Keytars : другие произведения.

Заговор льда и Пламени

Самиздат: [Регистрация] [Найти] [Рейтинги] [Обсуждения] [Новинки] [Обзоры] [Помощь|Техвопросы]
Ссылки:
Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
 Ваша оценка:
  • Аннотация:
    Не моя работа. Ссылка на произведение внутри. Что, если трое Белых Рыцарей, охраняющих Башню Радости, знали о том, что Нед Старк ищет свою сестру? Что, если бы они смогли встретиться с ним тайно и придумать план, как сохранить новорожденного короля в безопасности, пока он не сможет вернуть себе свой законный трон? Джон (Эйгон Таргариен) взрослеет, ему помогает небольшая группа, которая тайно готовит Вестерос к восстановлению династии Таргариенов. По мере взросления Джон постепенно берет на себя ответственность за свою судьбу. Это история о Джоне, где он заявляет о своем первородстве и имеет драконов. Жизнь Дейенерис сильно отличается от канона. Она встретится с Джоном, не покорив Эссос, и ей предстоит пройти долгий путь, прежде чем она станет самостоятельной всадницей драконов. Финал, однако, будет счастливым, когда Джонерис будет вместе ездить на драконах и править на равных.
  The Conspiracy of Ice and Fire
  by aspirantwriter
  What if the three members of the Kingsguard who stayed at the Tower of Joy knew of Ned Stark's search for his sister, were able to meet him in secret and concoct a plan to keep the new-born King safe until he could reclaim his rightful throne? A secret group, helps Jon (Aegon Targaryen) to claim his birthright. (Jon/Daenerys)
  
  Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13406750/1/The-Conspiracy-of-Ice-and-Fire
  
  Chapters: 58
  
  Words: 842729
  
  Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Fantasy - Characters: [Daenerys T., Jon S.] - Reviews: 264 - Favs: 882 - Follows: 766
  
  Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net
  
  Prologue
  Homecoming
  Greywater Watch
  The pack grows
  Conspiring
  Friends or family
  Jon knows something
  Of wolves and dragons
  Rite of passage - part 1
  Rite of passage - part 2
  Reunited
  The aftermath
  Decisions
  Changing priorities
  The royal visit - part one
  A royal visit - part two
  Sanctuary
  A stubborn bear
  The trial
  Home at last
  Disappointments
  Finding a balance
  Risk assessment
  Friend or foe
  A wolf in trouble
  The support of the North
  All in the family
  Breathing space
  Awkward meetings
  Reunions and introductions
  Calm before the storm
  The battle near Hardhome
  When the smoke clears
  A King's conscience
  All hail King Aegon the Sixth
  The 2nd day in the reign of King Aegon
  New arrivals
  A stag in Winterfell
  Day nine in the reign of King Aegon VI
  The tournament
  Two weddings and a honeymoon
  Keep your guard up
  Based on merit
  The delicate art of communication
  A matter of timing
  Patience is a virtue
  Preparing for two wars
  Of young men and heroes
  The best laid plans
  Parlay or declaration of war
  Loyalty is not always a given
  All Seven Kingdoms
  Justice served
  A white wedding
  Moving forward
  The enemy makes his move
  Communication is key
  All is well that ends well
  next chapterchapter list
  Prologue
  Chapter 1: Prologue
  
  Notes:
  
  This is a Jon-centric story where he claims his birthright and has dragons. Daenerys' life is vastly different compared to canon. She will meet Jon without having conquered Essos and has a long way to go before becoming a dragonrider in her own right. Endgame however will be a happy Jonerys riding dragons together and ruling as equals.
  
  This is my first story in this fandom so I will start off by stating the obvious: I do not own any of the characters, nor did I invent any part of GRRM's beautiful world. I'm simply bold enough to borrow them for a time.
  
  Any anachronisms or geographical inconsistencies will be explained as artistic license :-)
  
  Prologue
  
  The road ahead looked as desolate as the previous days. There was not a single cloud in the sky to temper the blazing sun. Ned loosened his tunic and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He had never been this far south. 'Starks don't thrive in the South', he thought again.
  
  He had forsworn his grey and white armour as well as his leather gambeson several sennights ago and was wearing a simple, white linen tunic which was soaked through at the waist where his sword belt held the thin fabric in place.
  
  He examined the area and found nothing but sand, stones and dry bushes. He dearly missed the northern forests with their large green trees and small brooks filled with fish. He sighed and straightened himself, tightening the grip on the reins of his steed.
  
  One look at the men following him made it clear that they were as miserable as he was. At first glance, the small group he had handpicked for this quest looked like a ragtag band of misfits. The northern sigils they wore however marked his companions as noble Lords and guards sworn to House Stark.
  
  He nodded at Lord Umber, who went by "the Greatjon". The tall Lord proudly displayed the sigil of a roaring giant. Next to him rode Lord Howland Reed, his sigil was a black lizard-lion on a grey-green field. Then followed lord Benton Glover, easily recognisable by the flashy scarlet blazon with a silver mailed fist on his breastplate. Lord Glover, deep in conversation with one of the Stark Houseguards was unaware of the scrutiny of his liege lord.
  
  'They all look sweaty and miserable. Perhaps I've been pushing us too hard', Ned thought. According to the young boy they had picked up at the previous tavern, it would still be a while before they reached the next small village where they intended to find a hearty meal and shelter for the night. Arthur, the young boy, had agreed to provide his services as a temporary guide in return for protection on the last leg of his journey to visit with his sister.
  
  Ned took a deep breath and let his mind wander to his bride, Lady Catelyn formerly of House Tully. He had left his young wife at Riverrun. She had yet to lay eyes on her new home in the North. Their hasty marriage and bedding was not his most pleasant memory. He prayed that things would go smoother once they were reunited. Before setting out on this quest, he had received word that Lady Catelyn had birthed a healthy son. 'The Gods have truly blessed us.' He sent a prayer to the Old Gods despite fearing that they could not hear him. There were no weirwood trees this far south.
  
  Ned studied the clear blue sky while continuing his musings. The proud Lady Catelyn of House Tully, daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands had been betrothed to his elder brother. After his untimely death at the hands of the Mad King, Ned had taken his brother's place and married the daughter of Hoster Tully to seal the crucial alliance with the Riverlands. It had all been masterminded by Jon Arryn: a firm alliance between the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands, all sealed by marriages.
  
  Ned's choice had been taken away from him. His dream of sharing a simple life married to the sweet, beautiful lady he had met at the tourney of Harrenhal, the dream of living with her in a small keep in the North, as a vassal Lord of his elder brother, had been irrevocably shattered. Instead, he was burdened with the responsibility for the entire North and honour bound to spend the rest of his life with a cold, southern wife. He winced when he recalled the proud, distant woman he had bedded on their wedding night. There had been no time to get to know each other. He had left at dawn without waking his bride. His allies were waiting for his northern armies so they could march on King's Landing together and depose the Mad King.
  
  And Ned, the dutiful, honourable, recently proclaimed Warden of the North, had played his part and the war had been won. They had all done their duty-except Lyanna. Everything that had happened over the last year and a half-it had all started with his sister, Lyanna.
  
  Finally, they had found a trail. Hope had come in the form of an anonymous message claiming that Lady Lyanna of House Stark currently resided in Dorne. A message he believed to be true because it contained a post scriptum written by her hand. The small sentence was barely legible but he recognized her handwriting all the same. It read: "I need help, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Please, Brother, come find me."
  
  He felt so conflicted when he thought of Lyanna, his favourite sibling with her fate unknown. Was she to be envied since she was the only one who had escaped a political marriage, or was she to be pitied because she had been separated from her pack, and a lone wolf is always in danger? He was certain that she had not been kidnapped. His sister had shunned her duty once again and had chosen to disappear instead of marrying the man her father had chosen for her.
  
  It would have been almost impossible to kidnap his fierce, wild sister without her raising hell and alerting the entire keep. And even then, she would have found a way to escape or at the very least get a message out to her kin. Lyanna was resourceful, brave, intelligent and competent with a sword. As far as Ned was concerned she had either found someone to help her escape Harrenhal or Gods forbid, she had eloped with Prince Rhaegar. The latter was highly unlikely since Prince Rhaegar had a wife and two children at the time. His sister might be wild and impetuous but she was raised as a Stark, and the members of House Stark were honourable to a fault.
  
  Whatever had motivated his sister, she couldn't have foreseen the chain of events her disappearance had set in motion. For now, the country was still in chaos after a violent Rebellion. The Mad King and his heir Prince Rhaegar were dead. Prince Rhaegar's wife and children were brutally murdered. Only two members of House Targaryen had escaped the purge and made it out of Westeros alive. His childhood friend, Lord Robert of House Baratheon had been proclaimed King Robert the first of his Name, 'King by conquest and blood'. The new King had not yet had time to restore order in his realm and Lyanna was still missing. What had happened to her? And why was she hiding in Dorne of all places?
  
  His musings were interrupted when the young boy, Arthur called for his attention. He pointed towards a dark spot in the distance. "Can you see that Lord Stark? We're just a few miles out. Can you see those buildings on that small rise?"
  
  Ned smiled at the boy and yelled at his companions. "We are almost there, my Lords! I cannot speak for you all, but I for one am looking forward to a decent meal and a roof over our heads tonight!"
  
  He was answered by several "ayes". With renewed vigour, the small caravan picked up the pace.
  
  The inn was large enough to provide accommodations for their entire party and had adequate stables to accommodate their horses. The common room was mostly empty. Only two tables were currently occupied by suntanned southerners. Ned acknowledged them with a short nod and headed for the opposite corner which contained a large enough table to seat his entire group. In no time they had devoured a wholesome meal. With their bellies full and slightly drunk, most of Ned's companions soon had trouble keeping their eyes open. One by one they drifted upstairs for a good night's sleep in a real bed.
  
  Soon, Ned and Lord Howland Reed were the only two of their party remaining in the common room. In the other corner Arthur, their young guide had met an acquaintance and was playing cyvasse.
  
  Ned and Howland were discussing their options keeping their voices low. The message that had begged Ned to come to this part of Dorne had not contained further instructions. They had nearly reached their destination. So what should they do now? Would it be safe to start asking around whether anyone had seen a northern Lady? More than once, their small caravan had drawn hostile stares. Would these Southerners be willing to help them or would they be putting Lyanna in danger if they openly declared their purpose?
  
  They quickly agreed to keep their quest a secret for now. According to the stories being told in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady Lyanna Stark was one of the instigators of the Rebellion. Either they proclaimed her a selfish seductress guilty of starting a war that killed thousands of good men or she was considered an innocent victim, kidnapped and raped by a mad Targaryen Prince.
  
  Ned knew they needed to come up with a plan and soon. He had hoped to have found another clue by now. He had been screening the face of every person they had encountered since crossing the Dorne border, but nobody had reached out to them yet. Out of ideas and too tired to come up with new ones, they decided to go outside and check on the horses before retiring.
  
  They were just about to enter the stables when Ned sensed someone looming behind him. He immediately reached for his sword and saw Howland Reed do the same. Ned was slowly turning around when he heard the voice of their young guide. Arthur was shouting as he was sprinting toward them. "Lord Stark! Lord Stark! May I present my friend to you please?"
  
  Ned faced the stranger that Arthur called 'his friend'. The tall man held up his two hands doing his best to appear harmless. "I am not your enemy, Lord Stark. We need to talk."
  
  Ned studied the man in great detail. Hie looked familiar but Ned couldn't place him. Ned with his twenty namedays, considered himself a hardened warrior, a war veteran. Yet the stranger intimidated him. He was at least ten years his senior and stood half a head taller. While Ned was still lanky, the stranger had well-defined muscles and would be a dangerous opponent. Howland Reed moved closer to Ned, ready to protect his Lord. Ned straightened himself in an attempt to look taller and answered the stranger with as much authority as he could muster. "I reckon young Arthur told you my name. I would appreciate it if you would identify yourself, my Lord."
  
  A hint of a smile appeared on the taller man's face. "Names are not important," he answered tersely. "The only thing you need to know is that I mean you no harm. We need to talk. We can help each other. If you want to address me by name, then call me White."
  
  Ned and Howland exchanged a glance. The name "White" didn't help them any further, it wasn't the man's real name. Still, the niggling feeling that he had seen this stranger before remained.
  
  "All right, Lord White," he conceded, "talk. We are prepared to listen."
  
  "First, let's make ourselves comfortable," the stranger muttered as he walked toward a secluded spot behind the stables after gesturing to Arthur to head back to the tavern, "this might take some time".
  
  The next morning, a well-rested group was noisily breaking their fast in the common room when Ned joined them. He decided to let the men eat first before informing them of his plans for the day. He realised all too well that there would be some upheaval after his communication. So he joined his companions at the table and made an effort to enjoy Lord Umber's bawdy joke. When the GreatJon delivered his punch line, the men showed their appreciation by stamping and laughing. As they fell silent again, Ned knew he could wait no longer. He had to address his men before they left the table.
  
  He braced himself. He needed to sound confident when he informed them that their quest was over. As far as they would know, their mission had failed. They would be bringing Lyanna's body north to be buried in the crypts of Winterfell. The other news had to be kept a secret at all cost. He needed to adhere to the plan the three of them had put together last night. For his men, there was a silver lining: they would be going home.
  
  Endnotes:
  
  A short prologue to start, more like a teaser really.
  
  Next up: Ned returns to Winterfell and something happens in Dorne.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Homecoming
  Chapter2: Homecoming
  
  Summary:
  
  Ned comes home with his wife and heir. Benjen and Ned exchange information.
  
  In Dorne, a package arrives. Oberyn is delighted, Doran not as much.
  
  Notes:
  
  I want to make clear however that although the tags speak of "Jon Snow", Jon will go by a different last name, a trueborn name, a temporary alias to keep him safe. His real name will be Aegon Targaryen. I didn't want Jon to grow up with the bastard stigma weighing him down. I need an assertive protagonist.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  It was raining the day Ned finally caught his first glance of Winterfell. Slowly but surely each detail of the imposing structure came into focus: the large towers, the main gate, the grey direwolf banners. 'Was it his imagination or were there more banners than usual decorating the stronghold?' Ned could just picture the scenes going on inside the castle at the moment. Everyone would be dropping what they were doing and hurrying into the courtyard to form a greeting line. They all knew that their new Lord would be at the gates with his bride and recently born heir. He guessed the courtyard would be filled to the brim with his people, leaving just enough room to accommodate their caravan.
  
  He had guessed right. A large crowd of nobles and servants greeted him as he entered the courtyard. His eyes immediately found the solemn figure of his younger brother. Benjen Stark stood next to Maester Luwin, Rodrik Cassel, the Greatjon, Maege Mormont and Rickard Karstark. Ned wasn't used yet to being their liege Lord and it felt strange to see everyone deferring to him, depending on him to improve their lives. He nodded a greeting in several directions, recognizing most of those present, but spotting a few new faces amongst as well, mostly amongst the servants and the houseguards. As he dismounted, a stable boy ran up, stammering "Welcome home, my Lord", before leading his horse to the stables. Ned released a deep breath. He was home.
  
  As Ned approached the wheelhouse, the soft murmuring of the crowd stopped. He realised that everyone's attention had shifted two the two figures that were emerging from the carriage. The folk at Winterfell had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Although the Rebellion had ended several moons ago and life in the North had resumed, here at Winterfell everyone had still had been waiting for the young Lord and his family to return home. Not only had Lord Stark journeyed to the other end of Westeros to find his poor sister whose bones were now buried in the crypt, but he had also been delayed for several sennights at Riverrun. Ned had stayed at his wife's ancestral home with his good family until his son, Robb, had been strong enough to make the trip home.
  
  Lady Catelyn accepted her husband's helping hand, looking forward to her formal introduction as Lady of Winterfell. She would make sure to start on the right foot, solidifying her position in the eyes of the Northern Lords and the members of her household. With her head held high, she caught the first glimpse of her new home and was not impressed. Though Winterfell was a large structure with several buildings and imposing towers, it lacked the sophistication of the buildings in the South. Everything looked robust, well kept, but she couldn't quite grasp what it was that she found wanting-perhaps the absence of colour? Stark grey certainly was the dominant colour, the only exception being the wooden outer buildings that were a dreary dark brown. She fervently hoped the interior would be more to her liking.
  
  Ned led her towards the assembled crowd who were all looking at her with awe and apprehension. 'As they should. I will be their Lady', she thought. 'They will have to follow my command.' Catelyn plastered a smile on her face, ready to greet everyone politely and show them the well-bred Lady of Winterfell. She would make sure to remember as many names as possible. She stood stiffly by as Ned firmly hugged his younger brother Benjen.
  
  Benjen Stark was the one to end the brotherly embrace. "Welcome home, brother. Winterfell is yours".
  
  "Glad to be home!" Ned smiled, studying his brother intently. "All is well?"
  
  "All is as well as can be," Benjen answered, his eyes conveying a lot more than those simple words. "We will talk later?"
  
  "As soon as I can be excused from this welcoming committee, I'll send for you. I'm eager to talk as well", was Ned's hushed reply. He tried to get some clues from his brother's body language. He was keen to know all the details of his brother's endeavours but knew he needed to be patient a bit longer.
  
  Benjen turned towards Catelyn and bowed. "Well met once again, good sister. You look beautiful as always. Let me be the first to welcome you to Winterfell and wish you a happy life here in the North."
  
  Catelyn curtsied. "Thank you, Lord Stark. That is my wish as well." She exchanged a glance with Ned who smiled reassuringly at her.
  
  Her husband gestured for the wet nurse to approach. He took the baby from her arms and lifted him in the air so all could see the tiny face of his son, the rest of the baby was tightly wrapped in soft, white furs. "Good people of the North", his voice boomed over the courtyard, "Let me present to you my firstborn son Robb Stark, the future Lord of Winterfell and heir to the North."
  
  A loud cheer welled up from the crowd. Everyone was smiling and Catelyn felt a bit of warmth welling up in her chest for the first time since entering the courtyard. She had done this. She had gifted the North with a new generation. She would get these rugged, stern Northmen to accept the southern bride of their Lord. She would show them she was worthy.
  
  Ned touched her arm. "Let me introduce you to some of my most trusted bannermen, my Lady. "
  
  Catelyn had some trouble taking her eyes of her son who was sleeping through all the noise and commotion. Ned had repositioned Robb firmly against his body, his big arms creating a nest that shielded the small baby from the Northern winds. He represented the perfect picture of a proud and caring father. With renewed confidence, she focussed her attention back to her duties and followed her husband ready to meet the noble lords waiting patiently in the receiving line and put her formal education to good use. Her cheeks were stiff from smiling when introductions were finally over and Ned led her into the keep.
  
  Finally alone, Catelyn sat on the large bed in her new quarters. The handmaid had just finished her duties and had given her new Lady some welcome privacy. She took the opportunity to evaluate her first moments in her new home. The service as of yet had been impeccable. Several young girls had worked quietly and efficiently together. Her bath had quickly been filled, the temperature of the water just as she preferred it. When the water had cooled, Catelyn had denied the softly uttered suggestion of her handmaid to add more hot water. The girl had helped her step out of her bath and had willingly obeyed her every demand. Catelyn's first impression of the Stark household was positive. Winterfell seemed a well-organized community.
  
  The temperature of the room had been a pleasant surprise. Ned has spoken true when he told her about the hot springs on which Winterfell was supposedly built and the pipes with warm water that were embedded in the walls of the large keep. At least it would not be cold inside. Although it was still summer, the last few days on the road she had needed to use the heavy cloak that Ned had put around her shoulders during their wedding ceremony. The large fur collar had seemed a bit much to her at the time but she had come to appreciate its usefulness. She made a mental note to have her handmaid alter most of her wardrobe as soon as possible.
  
  As she had left the little antechamber that served as her bathroom she noticed that the maids had almost finished unpacking her things. Her toiletries were displayed on a small cabinet adorned with a large mirror. A cosy looking chair stood before it. She ignored it in favour of the bed, the bed she would share with Ned tonight. Ned was a good husband, solemn, respectful, rather good looking in his Northern way but boring. They had been married for more than a year now but circumstances had prevented them from spending much time together.
  
  Learning how different he was from Brandon had been a big disappointment. Catelyn had liked Brandon Stark the moment she saw him. She had been drawn to his larger than life personality, his handsome looks and on top of all that, he was the firstborn son of a high lord. Brandon had been the center of focus at every gathering. All the ladies had been mooning over him and had envied her when her betrothal became public knowledge. Brandon Stark had been a catch. Back then, she had barely noticed his two younger brothers. Even now, after several moons spent together, she could not say that she had gotten to know Ned. They were the parents of a little boy but the father of her child was still a stranger to her. 'Well, it is up to me to change that. I will make a life here. Family, Duty, Honour are the words of House Tully. I shall do my duty to my husband and our children. '
  
  Ned entered his chambers shortly before supper would be served. He had barely enough time to freshen up and escort his wife to the Great Hall that would be filled to the brim. There would be no privacy, no real opportunity to put his wife at ease. His talk with Benjen would also have to wait a little longer. After showing his wife her new quarters, Ned had been intercepted by Maester Luwin. They had isolated themselves in the Lord's solar and had sifted through numerous scrolls that had not been forwarded to Riverrun. Maester Luwin had left the messages with special markings unopened and Ned had pocketed them so he could deal with them in private.
  
  'Benjen has come through,' Ned thought. He had charged his brother to instruct the Maester how to decode the wax seals on the scrolls to know which ones the Maester was allowed to open and which ones were for the eyes of the Warden of the North only. In normal circumstances, Ned trusted Maester Luwin with all his affairs. However, he had wanted to convey the secret political developments to Maester Luwin in person. They would have to tread carefully. Everyone they told would be in danger. In the eyes of the realm, they would be branded traitors to the Crown. If the wrong person got wind of their actions, all their lives would be forfeit. After the most pressing business had been handled, Maester Luwin had left the solar. They had agreed to reconvene the next day to tackle the other matters.
  
  Upon entering his bedroom, Ned immediately took steps to secure the still unopened scrolls. He discarded the wolfskin rug next to his bed and lifted a large stone, revealing a hollow space. He hid the messages in there. It was the safest place he could think of that was also within easy reach. He did not have time to read them now. He planned to retrieve the scrolls after supper and read them over before his talk with his younger brother. Ned made sure the stone and rug were back into their original position and dropped into the nearest chair for a moment. 'Thank the Gods. I'm finally back in my beloved Winterfell' .
  
  Life at Riverrun had not been easy for him. At home, he knew how everything was supposed to go. But in the South, there were all kinds of habits and niceties that were foreign to him. People talked but hardly said anything meaningful and when they finally did, they played around with their words in such a way that Ned was often uncertain of their real intent.
  
  He had felt adrift in a strange land instead of being relaxed while surrounded by family. His new wife had had her routines and had always been occupied either with their newborn son or with some other matter that ladies attended to. He had been trying to keep busy and had made an effort to get along with his good father and good brother but it did not come easy to him. It had all been a struggle and he had counted the days until he could be in his beloved North again, surrounded by his loyal bannermen. The lords of the North could be stubborn and difficult, but at least they spoke his language and didn't play stupid word games.
  
  ' Winterfell is my home. Here I have a purpose, here I can make an impact and my people need me.' For the first time in years, Ned felt he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He knew he would be extremely busy the coming moons but looked forward to it.
  
  He would be putting things in his Kingdom back in order and make plans to preparing the North for the coming Winter. 'Yes, that is my birthright. It may still be summer now but I know winter is coming', Ned recited the Stark words to himself. 'Perhaps I will even have to prepare enough provisions to survive a war,' he sighed, 'I will need to make plans for more contingencies than ever before'. Nevertheless, Ned relished the busy period ahead. 'Southerners can't grasp that. They are spoiled and have grown soft. My wife will have difficulty to adapt. I will have to help her.'
  
  'His wife,' Ned contemplated his predicament. 'How do you get to know someone better when you hardly get to see her and you haven't the faintest idea how she fills her days?' At Riverrun, her body had still been recuperating from childbirth and she had preferred to sleep alone in her rooms. The only time they spent together was often nothing more than a short, formal meeting after dinner. She would come to his bedroom, still fully dressed and they would talk some, but not much more would be said to each other except some polite inquiries into their respective days. Still, she would always tell him something new about his son. Much too soon to his liking, she would request permission to retire. She would then leave him with a dutiful kiss on his cheek and disappear swiftly into her bedroom.
  
  ' Another strange habit,', Ned had thought, 'one that I will change now we're home. I will make sure I visit her chambers. She will have nowhere to retreat to.'
  
  After their first rather clumsily bedding on their wedding night shortly before he had to leave for war, things were at a standstill. Ned hoped that since they were on his territory now, she would have to rely on him to learn her way around the keep and the household and they would be spending more time together. More important still, at Winterfell he would be the Lord and she would have to obey him. No more adhering to the southern customs of her family. They were in his beloved North now. Here he knew how to act!
  
  His heart was lighter when he knocked on the door that separated the Lord's and Lady's chambers a bit later to escort his wife to the great hall for dinner. 'All shall be well. I will see to it.'
  
  That evening, Lady Catelyn sat formally next to her husband at the high table. Both were dressed up as befitted their station. A welcome home feast had been prepared in their honour and the great hall was filled with family, friends even some servants were present at the lower tables.
  
  For the first time, she saw her solemn husband relax and smile. He was glad to be home. Catelyn eyed the abundant display of food. The rich aroma's wafting her way reminded her how long ago her last meal had been. Her husband filled her plate with a healthy portion of some kind of stew. Catelyn accepted it from him with a shy smile. She immediately started eating, the food was as delicious as it smelled. She tried to eat slowly minding her manners knowing full well that the northern lords and servants were eyeing her every move.
  
  Ned noticed her getting a bit self-conscious. He leaned towards her and silently remarked, "Give them time. Let them get to know you. They will come to love their new Lady. But for now, they are just curious. Let them study you. That is to be expected. In no time they will be sharing their exaggerated tales with you", he paused looking around before continuing, "which might be sooner than we think, by the looks of the amounts of ale being consumed." Smiling broadly he handed her a piece of bread and continued his meal.
  
  A few moments later he addressed her once more. "We will be inviting all the lords of the North to come to Winterfell in a few moon's time to celebrate the birth of the new heir of Winterfell. Best use this occasion to practice getting along with this lot. After all, practice makes perfect." He winked.
  
  Perplexed Catelyn eyed her husband. It was not the impending task of organizing a feast for the northern lords that had her flabbergasted. No, it was the almost teasing tone of Ned's last few sentences. Did she hear correctly? Had her solemn husband tried to lighten the mood?
  
  Catelyn was ready to retire. Ned had left her a while earlier, promising to meet up with her in her chambers. He had excused himself, stating he needed to catch up with his brother but had requested that she wait up for him. He had looked firmly at her but with a hint of pleading in his eyes. She had known her the only option was to gracefully agree and had silently nodded her head.
  
  The handmaid had left here alone once more. She was dressed in her nightshift, her hair arranged into two proper braids, she was ready for the night. After saying her night prayers, she had installed herself on the bed and had pulled the heavy furs on top of her. She had tried to read the book she had brought with her from Riverrun but had not been able to read one single page. She was just about to give up when she heard a knock on a door she hadn't even noticed was there.
  
  As Ned entered her chambers in large determent strides, Catelyn realised that that door led to his quarters.
  
  "Are you well?" Ned asked, "Do you have enough furs? Is the fire stoked high enough for you?"
  
  Catelyn looked up. She was blushing like a maid. 'Ridiculous, I am a wife and a mother,' she told herself.
  
  Ned shed the large grey robe he was wearing which left him in a white cotton shirt. She couldn't help but shiver when Ned moved to sit beside her on the bed. He started to look nervous when she still hadn't responded to his questions.
  
  "Are you all right?" he repeated his grey eyes intently gazing into hers. "Did you find all you needed?"
  
  "Yes, of course, thank you," she replied after a moment, intimidated by his unwavering stare.
  
  "I would very much like to bed you tonight," Ned came straight to the point, "Will you let me?"
  
  'Well, it was kind of him to ask... ,' Catelyn saw a blush appear on his cheeks but there was also an iron determination in his eyes. This was another Ned than the formal husband she had lived with at Riverrun. This was not the considerate but distant travel companion on the road these last few sennights, no, this was the Lord of Winterfell who had come to her bed. Although Ned was polite and respectful, for the first time Catelyn caught a glimpse of the powerful man, her husband was here in the North. This was a man strong and intelligent enough to protect her and their offspring.
  
  Strangely this realisation did not scare her. It did the opposite: she felt her body respond with the same butterflies she used to feel during the few flirty sentences she had exchanged with Brandon Stark. She even felt desire stir between her legs. Now it was her turn to blush. She held his gaze as she answered bravely, "You're my husband, it is expected of us."
  
  "I'll try to make it better for you;", he promised, embracing her now that he had her consent. "I know the first time is difficult for a woman. And with the war looming over our heads, well let's just say, I didn't, I wasn't..."
  
  Catelyn put her hand over his mouth, "sssh", let us both try to do better". She closed the last bit of space between them and kissed him.
  
  The next morning Catelyn woke up with a warm body lying beside her. Ned hadn't left. After he had worshipped her body in ways previously unknown to her, he had fallen asleep almost immediately after finishing inside her. He had just had enough energy to roll off her and spoon up behind her. She had had no choice but to try and fall asleep with a heavy arm around her waist, her legs sticky with his seed, most of it still deeply ensconced inside of her. Surprisingly she had felt tired and strangely satisfied. Before she knew it sleep had overtaken her as well.
  
  Catelyn turned her head to study her husband. Ned was still asleep. He looked younger now. Seeing him like this, it was hard to believe he was the Warden of the North who had the power to decide the life and death of tens of thousands of subjects.
  
  The first rays of morning light fell upon her husband's face and revealed a few small scars he had obtained during the war. Catelyn didn't know how to feel about him still being in her chambers, both still naked, his legs keeping one of hers pinned to the bed. This was new territory for her. Luckily Ned was like a hot furnace keeping the bed warm enough to ignore the chill in the room now the fire had almost gone out.
  
  'Was this what married couples did?' She wasn't sure. The septa's hadn't prepared her for this myriad of feelings. Nobody had told her how her body could respond to his. She was only taught to obey her husband and do her duty. Give him heirs and daughters to make alliances.
  
  But somehow his passion had stirred some unladylike responses. At first, she had tried to fight these unfamiliar feelings. While Ned was coupling with her, something strange had been building inside her and she had strained all her muscles to prevent herself from letting him see any wanton responses. Ned, however, had not let her keep still. He had urged her to relax, to let go, to let herself feel. He had touched her everywhere with his hands. 'Oh when I think of how his fingers touched me down there, and Gods his mouth!'
  
  He had told her that he loved the little noises she made and had reassured her that the walls of the keep were thick enough, that this was between the two of them. In here they could indulge themselves. They were married, this was no sin. This was sanctified by the Gods. And Catelyn had let herself be persuaded. If this was what married couples did, well, she would adhere to the Tully words 'Family, Duty, Honour'. Perhaps it wasn't such a daunting task after all to give the Warden of the North plenty of heirs. She shivered. It was awfully cold this morning. Catelyn nestled herself closer to her husband's warm body. Perhaps husbands and wives slept in the same bed for more than one reason in this dreary North. She let sleep overtake her once more.
  
  The night before in the Lord's solar
  
  Benjen sipped from his ale while his brother was scanning several scrolls. They had retired to this brother's solar and would finally be able to relate what they each had achieved these last few moons. Ned had given orders not to be disturbed. Benjen waited for his brother to start.
  
  Ned put the messages he had been reading aside and focussed his intent stare on Benjen. "Tell me first, how is our nephew doing? Was the journey uneventful? Is the child safe and healthy?"
  
  "Be calm, brother. He is fine. He is as safe as can be for the moment", Benjen reassured Ned, smiling broadly. "He is bonny, a real Stark. He is a little Lyanna reborn. He has the cutest dark hair that has started to curl adoringly. You would not think he had any Targaryen blood if you didn't know to look for it. His eyes are the Stark grey. It seems to he only inherited his fine cheekbones and the form of his chin from his Targaryen heritage. Ned, if you would put him next to Robb, people would say Jon was the Stark and Robb some scion from the Riverlands. No offence."
  
  Ned shook his head and gestured for his brother to continue.
  
  "He is an active baby, always alert, studying all that his baby eyes can discern. He tries to grab everything within reach and puts it in his mouth when you're not fast enough to prevent it." Benjen finished his passionate description of their little nephew. "Perhaps we should have gone for another solution? We could have brought him to Winterfell proclaiming him my trueborn son? I would not have minded a hasty marriage, even to his wet nurse, to be able to raise him as my own. He has already stolen my heart in just these few moons. Ned, could we perhaps change our plan?" Benjen took a deep breath and looked beseechingly at his big brother.
  
  "And how would you explain the presence of his guards?" Ned retorted. "I told you how they would not give up their King, not even to his closest family. I feel for you Benjen, I do. Don't you think that I want him here, where we both can see him grow up and protect him ourselves? It was me who promised Lyanna to keep him safe. He is my blood too! But I had to see reason."
  
  Ned moved closer to his brother and made a comforting gesture. "Benjen, please understand, Winterfell is the center of the North. A lot of people would get to meet him, and our three guards would not want to let him out of their sight. At the Driftmark, these knights can hopefully remain incognito. Here it would be a matter of days, perhaps even less before someone noticed them. No disguise can be complete enough to make these three unrecognizable. Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and certainly Ser Arthur Dayne are some of the most prominent heroes of Westeros. All over the Seven Kingdoms, everyone is speculating what might have happened to them. Have you forgotten how easily Varys or Littlefinger can get wind of anything happening in the realm?"
  
  Ned leaned back in his chair. "No Benjen, raising him at Winterfell is out of the question, no matter our wishes. The important thing is to keep Jon safe and to stick to the plan we all agreed on. Now tell me, please, how was the journey to the Driftmark? Has everyone settled in? What protective measures are being taken?" Ned urged.
  
  Benjen realised Ned was right to be impatient. He had hardly answered any of his brother's initial questions. He ordered his thoughts and started his report. "Ser Arthur used his connections in Dorne to secure a ship to take us to the Driftmark. You should have seen them: the three of them dressed like farmers, Howland Reed in his habitual green attire, Wylla, his nurse disguised as a Septa carrying a small babe. When I met up with them on that small island as per your instructions, I almost missed them. I was looking for three tall proud knights but instead, I found three modest farmers with slightly drooped shoulders trying to blend in, doing all they could to avoid undue attention. If it weren't for Howland Reed and their luggage, I would have missed them.
  
  Benjen paused and sipped from his ale. "Let me tell you, Ned, your friend Howland Reed is a strange fellow. He seemed to know instinctively who could be trusted and whom we needed to avoid. He also was acquainted with the captain of the ship, he turned out to be some distant relation of his wife. His contacts at the Driftmark proved true as well. Jon has been adopted by the elderly Lord and Lady Velaryon, distant cousins to the ruling Lord Velaryon, Lord of the Driftmark."
  
  "I must concur, Lord Reed's suggestion of the Driftmark was brilliant. Having seen it with my own eyes, I can testify that the Driftmark being a modest island in Blackwater Bay near Dragonstone is the perfect place to hide our True King. The inhabitants don't interact much with the mainland. And as Howland Reed had promised us, they are all still extremely loyal to House Targaryen. They are proud of their heritage, originating from Old Valeria themselves. I had to listen to several long-winded tales of how their forefathers landed in Westeros long before the Targaryens ever saw Dragonstone for the first time."
  
  Benjen was on a roll now. "The elderly couple have welcomed Jon and Wylla into their home and are grateful for the extra company and help. Jon poses as their grandson, their son was killed on the Trident. The three knights take turns guarding him. They have taken up quarters in a small cottage near their King's new home. One of them stays in Jon's room."
  
  "And the community does not think that strange?" Ned asked
  
  "Ser Gerold told everyone who asked that the three of them were close friends of Jon's alleged father and that they fought side by side. As often happens during wartime, they had all allegedly sworn an oath to look after each other's family in case one of them did not survive the war. Jon's mother of course having died in childbirth, the three knights considered it their duty to unite the orphaned baby with his closest living relations. Then they complete their story by explaining that they do not have anywhere to go to and have decided to settle at the Driftmark. They claim that they are content to lead a peaceful life and are helping out the community, doing small chores and but more importantly their presence is providing the small village with protection against thieves and poachers. So far nobody suspects anything. For now, little Jon is as safe as he can be in Westeros."
  
  Ned relaxed a bit after Benjen's tale. "Well, let's hope for the best then. I'll pray to the Old Gods and ask them to help us protect him." He picked up one of the scrolls. "I have some news as well. Firstly, our contact has arrived in Fleabottom and states he is making progress. Secondly, a message arrived from Lannisport. Things there are going according to plan and the first steps have been taken. Soon it will be time to reconvene with our conspirators to discuss further strategies."
  
  Ned rose stiffly. "Let's call it a night. We'll have plenty of opportunities to talk some more during the next few days. I reckon you do not have to leave before another sennight?"
  
  Benjen nodded at Ned and smirked. "Off to bed or off to the wife?"
  
  Ned answered with a weak smile. Tucking the scrolls in his pocket, he left the solar to join his wife in her bedroom.
  
  Interlude1: Dorne
  
  Some moons after the event of the previous chapter:
  
  Oberyn Martell was abruptly awoken by a servant. "My Prince, you are requested to appear before Prince Doran. And make haste, the Prince stressed the urgency of my message. Please my Prince, hurry or I will be punished."
  
  Oberyn's eyebrows rose. This was unprecedented. His brother never threatened the younger servants over something this trivial. His siesta was over it seemed. He quickly disentangled his limbs from Ellaria's and, made himself presentable. He left to go find his elder brother.
  
  He heard a lot of noises coming from the great hall. It seemed he was not the only one summoned. However, of all the things he could have imagined to see when he entered the room, the sight that greeted him was as unexpected as it was welcome.
  
  With a wide grin on his face, he looked over to his brother. Prince Doran sat in his usual chair and greeted him with troubled eyes. Oberyn could not fathom why. 'Was this not a reason to celebrate?' He couldn't imagine any better surprise. 'Oh, the things I will be able to do and say now. How best to take revenge, in what manner...'
  
  His thoughts halted when Prince Doran abruptly rose from his chair and gestured Oberyn to follow him out of the hall. Bemused Oberyn obeyed him, his eyes reluctantly leaving the sight of a bruised and battered heavily chained Ser Gregor Clegane who was sitting in the middle of the room inside a large wooden crate only visible because two sides of the crate had been opened and lowered to the ground.
  
  Safely secluded in Doran's private quarters, Oberyn tried to be patient and waited for his brother to start the conversation. His brother looked deeply troubled. When the silence persisted, Oberyn tried for the obvious. "Isn't this a good development brother? Who captured him?"
  
  Prince Doran seemed to be looking for words. He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated this one more time and finally seemed to come to a decision. He slowly removed a scroll from his sleeve and handed it to his brother. "Read it", he ordered.
  
  Oberyn's curiosity grew. He accepted the scroll and started to read.
  
  Prince Doran,
  
  Please, accept our gift. The content of the crate is yours to dispose of as you please. We only entreat you to inflict no harm upon the delivery team. We rely upon your honour.
  
  It is our pleasure to help bring justice to your kin. No longer worry about the other culprit. He won't be heard of again. Maybe one day you would be willing to return the favour?
  
  Until then,
  
  Kin of your kin
  
  "What can be the meaning of this? The other culprit? Have you heard anything about the Lannister devil lately? Surely they allude to him. Who do you think sent this message? What would they want from us? Isn't this good news though? This is surely sent by allies of ours, don't you agree? Who could it be: 'Kin of our kin'? How were the scroll and the crate even delivered here? What do you know of this? Can I be the one to end his miserable life?" Oberyn fired these questions at his brother. Although the message confused him, overall the content was exhilarating!
  
  Doran sighed. "I don't know. I don't know and that is what troubles me. But yes, you can be the one to carry out justice in whatever way you want. However, we will need to strategize. We need to make sense of this. We need to contact all our spies in the Seven Kingdoms. I will even send the word out overseas. We need to get to the bottom of this and fast. I want answers." Doran looked troubled.
  
  Oberyn however could not be deterred. "Brother, how was the crate delivered? Did the scroll arrive with it or was it sent by raven? What haven't you told me?"
  
  Doran looked up to his brother "Stop pacing in front of me. My nerves are on edge enough as it is without you aggravating matters. Sit down and I'll tell you all I know, little that it is."
  
  Oberyn obeyed without hesitation he quickly seated himself opposite his brother. He folded his hands in his lap and encouraged his brother to tell it all. "Let's hear it brother", he said in a low tone.
  
  "The crate was delivered by a Northern vessel belonging to House Manderly. They sailed here directly from Kings Landing. They were commissioned to bring the crate into my hands personally. Their client, so the delivery team stated, had paid double the required fee for their discretion and had given no name. They were told we would be expecting it and would be grateful for its safe delivery. They also said they had gone to great trouble to deliver the subject alive and in a relatively clean state having received detailed instructions describing how to feed and take care of the cargo. They were glad to finally be rid of the responsibility. They even asked me to sign a document stating that I had received the cargo intact. Further interrogation wasn't possible since I had decided to adhere to the request in the scroll I had received a moon ago. I felt honour bound to grant them safe passage back to their vessel."
  
  "Any idea who," Oberyn started to ask but Doran held up his hand.
  
  "The scroll was delivered by raven, one hailing from the Wall. I guess that the sender is the long-forgotten Targaryen, Maester Aemon who still serves at Castle Black. At least I presume that he is still alive, though he must have celebrated his ninetieth nameday years ago."
  
  Oberyn startled "Targaryen? Targaryen! At the wall? Are you sure?"
  
  "No, I am not sure!" Doran shouted, very agitated. "That's the problem. The people of the Night's Watch are forbidden to interfere with the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. They must remain neutral. I do not know what to think. That's what bothers me. Ever since the content of the package was revealed, I have been trying to figure this out. I have been racking my brain searching for the safest way to obtain more information. What do they want from us? How should we go forward without betraying our purpose?"
  
  "We need to be smart about this Oberyn. For once I want you to think before you act. Help me figure this out. Be my eyes and ears outside of Dorne. I was thinking about the possibility of sending you on a tour throughout the Kingdoms so you can discreetly gather information about the current political situation."
  
  Oberyn stared at him deep in thought.
  
  Doran continued, "Find out whether something happened to Tywin Lannister. See how the Baratheon King is doing. Try to ferret out how much support he has? Are the Lannisters weakened? See if you can find a trace of any enemies to the crown who would want to destroy the Baratheon-Lannister alliance. Sniff out possible conspiracies against the throne if you can. The sending of this package is not an act of charity. Someone is reaching out to us, someone who is not sympathetic to the current dynasty. "
  
  Oberyn was making a move to interrupt but Doran lifted his hand to stop him.
  
  "Of course you may take all the time you need to dispose of our precious gift any way you like first. That goes without saying. We will discuss our next steps at length afterwards. I feel that whatever has been set in motion will take some time to build before any action can be taken openly, whatever whoever may intend. This is a dangerous game. If you take into account the careful wording of the message and the anonymous delivery of the package, you can not help but notice that the people behind this are very cautious. Please leave me to my solitude now. I need to calm down and think about this some more."
  
  Doran closed his eyes and slumped in his chair. He felt drained of all energy. 'No good can come of this,' he thought. 'Why can't they leave us in peace?'
  
  Oberyn on the other hand left the room with a spring in his step, his mind swirling with possibilities. 'First things first,' A smug smile appeared on his face. 'Time to fetch Ellaria from her bed, the sand snakes too. They will want to have their share of the fun.'
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter Jon will make his appearance.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Greywater Watch
  Chapter 3: Greywater Watch
  
  Summary:
  
  Benjen visits Jon at Greywater Watch.
  
  The Hound makes an appearance.
  
  Notes:
  
  If you really are intent on reading this story. Buckle up. It will be at least 500.000 words.
  
  Warning: If coarse language offends you, better stop reading. Sandor Clegane knows no other way of communicating. I also might have borrowed some dialogue from the screenwriters and GRRM, I just couldn't resist the temptation. Let's call it me paying them tribute. I'm also grateful for the Game of Thrones wiki.
  
  To those who commented on the anachronism of Littlefinger being in King's Landing, just consider it something that is different in my universe.
  
  The Neck approximately four years later
  
  "One more night and I'll have a roof over my head," Benjen mused. It was not his first visit to Lord Reed's stronghold. He was seated a bit secluded from his travelling companions but still close enough to the fire to stay warm. The small delegation of brothers of the Night's Watch that travelled with him was a part of his official mission. The Warden of the North had used his influence to negotiate advantageous trading deals for the Night's Watch throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They would also be collecting the annual taxes the Lords of Westeros were levied to sustain the Night's Watch. One of the many stops along the way was Greywater Watch. Additionally, they were tasked to bring back as many recruits as they could find.
  
  Benjen was used to life on the road now. However travelling in a small group and keeping his real purpose a secret, had never been his forte. He was grateful for the companionship though.
  
  Ever since he had let himself be persuaded by his elder brother not to say his Night's Watch vows, his life had been an adventure. He had seen more of Westeros than almost anyone in the North. Never could he have dreamed up this kind of life for himself. None of the farfetched scenarios he had fantasized about during his youth ever since understanding the plight of the third son of a lord, had even come close to what his lot in life had turned out to be.
  
  A few years ago, Benjen had thought he was done, finished. He had been stuck in Riverrun, doing nothing but drinking and blaming himself for everything: the Rebellion, the deaths of Brandon and his father and the loss of his sister. He had seen no way forward. He had lost almost everything he had held dear. His only grounding force had been his brother Ned. But Benjen had hardly been able to look him in the eye since he also partly blamed himself for the circumstances that had forced Ned to give up his lady love and to marry for political gain before going off to fight in a war that shouldn't have been started in the first place.
  
  And to make matters worse, when Ned had returned victoriously from the Rebellion, almost immediately he had left again. This time on a mission to find Lyanna and he had ordered his younger brother to stay put and look out for his pregnant wife. Benjen had been on the brink to forsake his life and go to the Wall. He would freeze himself to death or be killed if not by Wildlings then surely by one or other wild animal rumoured to live on the other side of the Wall. He had felt he didn't deserve another choice. He had been racked by guilt.
  
  But then Ned had returned with news about his sister. And Benjen's world had been turned on its head once more. It had taken Ned a lot of reasoning to get through to his younger brother who had at first spiralled deeper into his depression upon learning that Lyanna was, his dear sister, who had always been so full of life, was dead and he had been complicit. He had helped her escape to meet her Prince and evade the arranged betrothal to Lord Baratheon. At the time Benjen's choice had been a simple one. Not only had he been loyal to his sister to a fault, but he had also agreed most fervently that Robert Baratheon was not a good match for her. Never could he have imagined what her flight had put into motion.
  
  Benjen had never understood how Ned could not see past his friendship with Baratheon and discern his real character. Everybody who had eyes could see how he treated women. They were just bodies to stick his cock into and something to brag about afterwards to all and sundry when he was drunk enough. Robert would have strayed from Lyanna's marriage bed almost immediately and frequently at that. Benjen had been sure of it. Robert had not loved Lyanna for her vibrant personality. He had loved the opportunity she represented. He would marry the beautiful sister of his dear foster brother making him a good brother and in one swell swoop build a strong alliance with the northernmost Kingdom. Lyanna's spirit would have been broken in no time. Ned, however, hadn't seen it that way.
  
  "He is still young," Ned had tried to assure Benjen. "Marriage will settle him down."
  
  Well, marriage with Cersei Lannister hadn't settled Robert down at all. His proclivities had only increased these last few years. Stories about the King's whoring and excessive drinking were told all over the Kingdom. The brothels in King's Landing thrived.
  
  When Benjen had uttered his plan to join the Night's Watch to Ned upon his elder brother's return from the South, Ned had denied him. His elder brother had used the most compelling argument to get Benjen to listen: Jon.
  
  The heated debate with Ned over his future had only taken a turn for the better when the true meaning of what his brother was talking about became clear. Benjen's brain had slowly started to digest the true meaning of what Ned had been trying to tell him. The child meant a new life born from Lyanna's womb. There was still a living piece of his sister in this realm, a trueborn Prince. ' No, not a Prince, a King, the death of Rhaegar and the Mad King has put Jon - or King Aegon', he mentally corrected himself, 'first in line for the Iron Throne!' Benjen had found his medicine for the darker thoughts that had plagued him the previous year. He would not become a brother of the Night's watch.
  
  Benjen looked at the fire that was slowly dying. "Time to call it a night," he called out to his companions. He straightened his stiff limbs and slowly walked over to the small tent he had erected earlier when they had stopped to make camp. "See you all in the morning. I trust you will look after the fire?"
  
  A small pause and then he continued encouragingly, "If we ride hard, we will meet up with our guide before noon and have plenty of time to navigate the swamps while it is still light. We will reach Greywater Watch before dark. Goodnight."
  
  The men all nodded and wished him a good night's sleep as well.
  
  It was still well before dusk when the small party reached the castle.
  
  Benjen's fellow travellers let out an almost simultaneous sigh of relief. They had been following the guide for a long time, traipsing through the swamps of the Neck in a single line all the while making sure to follow exactly in the footsteps of the crannogman that Lord Reed had sent out to meet up with them. They could finally relax and walk leisurely beside each other again.
  
  Benjen looked toward the castle expectantly. Just as he had foreseen, a small figure exited the stronghold and ran straight at him as fast as his little legs allowed."Uncle Benjen, Uncle Benjen, you're here, you're finally here!" The five-year-old leapt into the arms of his uncle clinging onto him with all the strength his little arms could muster.
  
  Benjen swung him around a few times before putting him down again. "Let me have a look at you then. My oh my, how you've grown. I can see you are eating your vegetables as you promised, eh Jon."
  
  The little boy beamed up at him. "Yes, Uncle and meat and potatoes too. Come in and I'll show you the wooden sword I got from Art. They're teaching me to fight and Art says if I listen good I get a real one!"
  
  "It's if you listen well ." Benjen corrected his nephew gently and ruffled his curls affectionately.
  
  Benjen checked whether his travel companions were still close by. He saw that they had already been directed towards the stables and had taken his horse along so he could stay and greet the boy properly. He scanned the courtyard to see who Jon's ever-persistent shadow was this time.
  
  "Nice to see you, Ser Gerold", he greeted the knight. "Are all three of you here this time?"
  
  "Nice to see you too, Stark", Gerold truly looked glad to see him. It's me and Ser Oswell. Ser Arthur is away on... business. Lord Reed will tell you all about that once we're away from prying eyes and ears."
  
  Benjen took his nephew by the hand, a warm smile on his face. "Time to go look at that sword, don't you think so, Jon. Can you lead the way?"
  
  Beaming from ear to ear now, the little boy skipped ahead toward the castle dragging his uncle along. Ser Gerold hurriedly followed both of them inside.
  
  Benjen laughed indulgently at another statement of Jon. His nephew had been talking almost non-stop since Benjen's arrival. Not that he minded. He was glad to see the boy again and also relieved to see for himself that he had adapted well to the change in his living arrangements. They had received a reassuring message from Lord Reed at Winterfell shortly before he had started on this tour of the Kingdoms, but seeing him with his own eyes had eased his worries. Jon had mentioned little Meera, Lord Reed's three-year-old daughter often, but mostly he had been telling his uncle about his first training sessions with the wooden sword.
  
  He had argued adoringly that it was high time he was allowed to use more than a stick now that he was almost five. Still, he had complained at length that Ser Arthur often spends almost the entire duration of the lesson telling him how to stand properly and how to move, left, right, backward and forward. How Ser Arthur would push him out of the blue in an attempt to unbalance him and then would explain at length how best to correct his stance to prevent himself from falling over. "But," he had pleaded, "I love to fight with my sword, Uncle Benjen. Will you spar with me tomorrow? Ser Arthur is on a trip and Ser Oswell won't mind, I think?"
  
  Benjen had fond memories of himself constantly bugging Ned or Brandon to spar with him at that age and Ned being the one who mostly indulged his younger brother by showing him the moves he had learned from the Master at Arms during his required daily training.
  
  "I will come out to the training yard tomorrow and teach you some blocks if you like," he offered the small boy. "But only if Ser Gerold or Ser Oswell allow it," he added as an afterthought.
  
  Jon hugged his uncle. "You're the best, Uncle Benjen. I wished you could stay here with me forever."
  
  "Me too", Benjen answered solemnly. "Me too. Perhaps in a few years? We'll see. In the meantime, I will visit you as often as I can. I promise. I will certainly drop by on my return journey." He held his digit and middle finger up in a V-shaped form. "I swear."
  
  Jon mimicked the gesture. "I swear too?" He looked over to his uncle for assurance.
  
  Uncle Benjen only laughed in response and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately once more.
  
  "Come along. Let us see if we can find something to eat. I'm starving and I don't know about you. Can you show me to way, Jon?"
  
  His nephew's facial expression changed completely. He looked confident once more.
  
  "I can Uncle, I never ever get lost any more." The boy frowned. "But Lord Reed doesn't seem to believe me cause he always sends Art or someone else along with me." He complained. "And I know my way, truly Uncle. I even help Meera sometimes and she has lived here longer than me already, but then... ," he paused mulling it over, "perhaps that because she is still so small?"
  
  "I think that could be it, nephew. Let's get to it then? I told the truth when I said I was starving."
  
  That night, after they had finally put Jon to bed, a difficult task this time since the little boy had been overexcited to have his uncle come to visit, Lord Reed, Ser Gerold and Benjen retired to Howland Reed's solar. Ser Oswell had taken up guard outside Jon's bedroom and would be briefed later if necessary.
  
  "Jon seems to have settled in all right at Greywater Watch." Benjen opened the conversation since the men had been contemplating each other silently for a while, enjoying the quiet now Jon had retired.
  
  "He certainly has," Lord Reed confirmed. "What's more, my wife and I are glad to have him. He regularly plays with Meera. I think he likes not being the youngest one for a change. Meera has just turned three now and Jon likes to play-act that he is a knight saving the little girl from ogres. I can't wait to see how he will react to a newborn. My lady wife is due in a moon's time."
  
  "Don't get me wrong it was a pity Edric Celtigar passed away. But in the few moons Jon has been here I have come to learn that moving him here to be fostered amongst the crannogmen at this particular time is a blessing in disguise."
  
  "What do you mean by a blessing in disguise?" Benjen looked confused. He had been devastated when their seemingly ideal plan for raising Jon had been thwarted by the death of his "grandparent". I thought there was no place for him more to grow up more suited than the Driftmark. Even if his cover would have been blown there, the community would have supported him one hundred per cent and now he's here..."
  
  "Greywater Watch is even safer." Howland Reed retorted not letting him finish his sentence, his intense gaze directed at Benjen. He continued passionately raising his voice. "House Stark has no bannermen as loyal as House Reed. We swear our oath ' by earth and water, by bronze and iron, by fire and ice '. The crannogmen would never betray the nephew of the Warden of the North. He is as safe here, well maybe even more so, than he was at the Driftmark."
  
  Forcing himself to calm down, Reed explained further "Our castle is one of the safest in Westeros. You've surely noticed that it is situated so deep in the swamplands of the Neck that the only way to reach it safely is if you're being guided by a crannogman. Without our guidance this morning, you would most probably have drowned before getting even halfway to the castle. And even if you've been here once, I challenge you to try and find your way again. Not only are the paths treacherous and one false step can get you swallowed up by the swamps, but Greywater Watch also won't be in the same place when you next visit. However improbable it may seem, I swear to you that it kind of moves. It is part of the natural environment of the Neck. No raven can find it and certainly, no spy can enter it undetected." Howland Reed paused to take a breath. "It is safe here," he stressed once more.
  
  He seemed hesitant for a moment but still decided to continue. "We have a powerful greenseer here as well. Another point in our favour, but that was not what I was alluding to," he ended mysteriously.
  
  Benjen and Ser Gerold both stared at him shocked by this declaration. However, neither of them uttered a word but just looked expectantly at Lord Reed wanting him to continue.
  
  Howland Reed seemed to mull over the best way to explain himself. "Aegon,"
  
  "His name is Jon for now." Benjen couldn't help correcting immediately.
  
  "As I told you before," Lord Reed countered patiently, "we're safe here from prying ears. But I'll oblige you. Jon has the blood of the two most powerful bloodlines in the Seven Kingdoms: the blood of the Dragons and the blood of the Kings of Winter. Both lines possess powerful magic. If you combine them..."
  
  Benjen's eyes were as big as saucers now. "Magic in the Stark's blood?" he uttered unbelievingly.
  
  "The Kings of Winter had the ability to warg. Don't you recognize the term from stories your old Nan told you at Winterfell? The Starks of old could enter into an animals mind, they could either completely take it over, or share its mind depending on the mental capabilities of said animal. Still, every generation at least one Stark emerges who has the potential to become a warg. Only the knowledge on how to develop this ability has been lost to you and none of you is even able to recognize the early symptoms should they occur, as far as I have observed."
  
  "I've seen several signs already that this 'Stark'-ability is awakening in Jon which is abnormal at such a young age. I guess that the Dragonblood in him will enhance his warg 's just say that Jon will have to be tutored carefully and whom better to do that than us Crannogmen. We know what we're dealing with. Our blood also contains some magic. We inherited it from the First Men just as the Starks, but our unique way of living in close connection to nature has seemingly helped to conserve our magic. In almost every generation a greenseer is born at Greywater Watch. He has green dreams but can warg as well."
  
  Benjen stared at him chocked by this declaration. His mind was reeling. He tried to silence the many questions popping up in his mind and forced himself to focus on the issue at hand: Jon. He made a mental note to revisit this subject another time. He would like to have a description of these " early symptoms ".
  
  "But was does this mean for Jon exactly?" Benjen still felt unbalanced. The entire situation was slipping through his fingers. A short while ago he had felt on top of the world. Jon looking up to him as the best Uncle in the world had boosted his self-confidence. Now he was out of his depth. He had to know more to be able to help his nephew.
  
  "It means that we will start with little mental exercises with the boy without him knowing their real purpose at first. Next, I guess at the latest within a year from now, I will gift him with a puppy. Jon will learn to share its mind. Since we can lead him gradually into this ability at such a tender age, it will eventually become very natural to him, a second nature so to speak. I predict he will be able to warg into any animal as easy as you are able to read. If developed correctly, it will be a great asset to him. If I am right about this, he could turn an entire pack of wolves to do his bidding simply by controlling the leader of a pack of wolves. No average warg can enter the mind of such a strong animal never mind taking over complete control. Most wargs will only be able to do this to lesser animals. Jon's warg abilities will potentially surpass them all.
  
  That is what I mean when I call Jon being fostered by us here at Greywater Watch an unexpected windfall," Lord Reed concluded.
  
  Ser Gerold had yet to speak a word. If Lord Reed spoke true, then they would have their task cut out for them. How could you protect a boy that was able to play pranks on them with the help of animals?
  
  ' Best teach him to be respectful toward his protectors and teachers', Ser Gerold noted to himself. ' We're all lucky Jon is such a good-natured child. Hells, the Seven Kingdoms are lucky. '
  
  Aloud he only bid them "Do be careful with the boy though, magic is all good and well but do not take risks with his mental health. We have to keep him safe. Bear in mind that Targaryens tend to develop madness. I'm quite certain it won't affect Jon, but if you start messing with his mind." He left the rest of his sentence unspoken.
  
  "We will proceed slowly, you have my word", Lord Reed promised
  
  Everyone took a moment to contemplate all they had discussed. Just when it seemed that the topic was closed for now, Benjen spoke up once more. He still had one major concern. "Lord Reed, the person, uh greenseer who will be working with my nephew, won't he learn of the true heritage of Jon because of his uh green dreams? Won't you have to ask permission for this from Ned Stark? He will want to know of another person working so closely with Jon and being in the know."
  
  "The greenseer is me, Stark. You trust me, I hope?"
  
  Benjen and Ser Gerold could only nod their heads. They were flabbergasted. A heavy silence fell upon the room once more.
  
  Eventually, Benjen made an effort to lighten the mood. "Well," he asked, "and what genius plan would the Sword of the Morning be carrying out at the moment?"
  
  Later that same evening:
  
  Benjen rested his head on the furs he had shaped into some semblance of a cushion to support his head. He contemplated all he had learned about Jon today. Benjen only ever called him Jon as opposed to his birth name Aegon which was kept a secret for obvious safety reasons. When the time came that King Aegon would stake his claim, Benjen knew he would have difficulty to adapt to the other moniker.
  
  Whether you called him Jon or Aegon, the little boy was the focus of his life now. The last thing he had left of his sister. Benjen had taken over part of Ned's task to protect him. He had sworn himself into the service of his nephew, the future king of Westeros. For now, however, he was an honorary Uncle to the child, an alleged war friend of Jon's deceased father who checked in on him from time to time to assure his wellbeing. At least that was his cover story as far as the rest of the world was concerned.
  
  The first time Benjen had seen Jon was at the Driftmark when Jon was hardly two moons old. He had helped Jon get settled in with the elderly couple, Edric Celtigar and his wife formerly of House Velaryon. Jon's alleged grandparents had been members of a small branch from House Celtigar who had emigrated from Claw Isle to the Driftmark when Edric, a second son, had fallen in love with a lady Valeryon, cousin to the ruling Lord of the Driftmark.
  
  Nobody even suspected anything was off about their cover story, not even when the three war buddies seemed to settle into a small cottage near to the main house. It was rumoured that one of them surely was enamoured with the baby's nurse but since they had proceeded to make themselves useful with small tasks and provided protection to the community, the neighbourhood got used to having them around and life went on as usual.
  
  Jon had been a delightful baby. At first glance, Benjen had seen that he truly was Lyanna's son. As he had described to Ned, Jon had the Stark look not to mention Lyanna's vibrant energy. One time though Benjen could have sworn he saw hints of purple appear in the baby's eyes when he tickled him and Jon had cooed. Benjen's first visit hadn't lasted long but his heart had surrendered. This little guy was part of his pack now, the most important member. He would find a way to be in his life.
  
  Ned came up with the perfect solution. Benjen Stark was officially named the liaison between the Warden of the North and the Night's watch. He would supervise that the Watch received the support they were due from each of the Seven Kingdoms. This would mean a lot of travelling and negotiating with the important houses of each Kingdom. He would enforce the timely payment of taxes all great houses were owed to the Wall. This meant he was able to journey across Westeros regularly and could relay messages to their partners in 'crime' without arousing suspicion. And if his boat happened to stop often at the Driftmark to provision, nobody suspected anything. Captains often had an ongoing trade deal with the Driftmark.
  
  So Benjen Stark had been able to see Jon grow up. He had visited the Driftmark at least four times a year during Jon's first four years of his life. A close bond had developed between the two of them. He knew Ned envied him this. Benjen looked forward to spending the rest of the sennight with Jon. He would worry about this warg thing later. According to Lord Reed, it would be an ability that would take some time to develop. He still had time to consult with Ned and Maester Luwin. Perhaps he could even ask old Nan to repeat her old stories to him when he would be back at Winterfell. He should make sure Robb heard them as well.
  
  Interlude 2: Brother, oh brother
  
  Somewhere in the Westerlands, some time ago
  
  "Fuck off," Sandor Clegane grumbled, his tired eyes never wavered from his pint. He had been minding his own fucking business. His habitual drinking companions had left only moments before and he had been about to finish his ale and leave as well until those cunts had approached his table.
  
  The three men standing before him took his curse in stride. It had been easy to track him down. Everyone in these lands knew of Sandor Clegane. The smallfolk they encountered in the Westerlands had been willing enough to tell them of the Hound's habitual haunts, this shabby little tavern not far from where he lived to be the principal one.
  
  "Let us introduce ourselves, Ser. Perhaps buy you another round?" The man in the middle proposed politely.
  
  "I'm no Ser", he grumbled. State your damn business and be off with you lot". Sandor still hadn't looked up.
  
  The men took that as enough of an invitation and seated themselves at Sandor's table. The Hound finally deigned to look them. All three seemed to be seasoned fighters. ' Best stay alert' . He tried to lift the alcoholic haze from his mind. ' Them assholes look like a dangerous lot. Better hear 'm out and be done with them.'
  
  "I need no more piss water. Stop wasting my bloody time and talk."
  
  The same person spoke again. "I am Benjen Stark of Winterfell. These are my travelling companions Lord Umber of the Last Hearth and Ozzy Waters. We have some business you might be interested in so to speak."
  
  Sandor more attentive now, scrutinized the three men. His gaze lingered on the one that had been introduced last. "Don't play games with me," he scoffed. I can sniff out a run-off Kingsguard from a mile away." This last part fortunately had been whispered. "I'll give you one chance to explain your sorry arses," he continued, his voice at a normal volume once more.
  
  "Perhaps we can talk somewhere more discreet?" Stark was clearly the leader of this pack.
  
  Sandor rose. "Was planning on leaving this godforsaken place anyway. You dumb cunts better follow me." He tossed some coins on the table and hurried out of the tavern with large strides making it look like he did not care whether they were following him out or not.
  
  A short while later, the small group were once more seated around a table, this time in the small cottage Sandor usually stayed in, at least when he was not roaming the Kingdoms earning money by entering tournaments or selling his sword for small periods. He had declined Lord Tywin Lannister's offer to serve in his houseguard. His brother might follow orders to kill children without blinking his eyes. Sandor would make damn sure no one he lent his services to would ever ask such a dishonourable thing of him.
  
  Stark took the floor once more. "We've come to talk about your brother."
  
  Sandor's interest had already been raised when he recognized Ser Oswell Whent, now it reached new heights. He fought to keep his face in a disagreeable scowl not wanting to give anything away. "What do you want with that whoreson who struts around Kingslanding as if he fucking owns it?"
  
  "Well," Umber couldn't help but remark, "if he is the son of a whore, then you..."
  
  Stark held up his hand. "If you don't have anything of sense to contribute, hold your tongue, Greatjon."He turned his attention back to Sandor. "We are planning to bring down your brother and kindly offer you to take centre stage, knowing full well you would be forever sorry to have missed out on this. We're here to do you a favour actually."
  
  They had him, hook, line and sinker. When Sandor was still a young boy, Gregor Clegane, nicknamed "the Mountain", his monstrously huge elder brother and arguably the most feared man in Westeros now, had nearly burned off half of Sandor's face because he had found Sandor playing with a toy that Gregor had discarded. Sandor hadn't even stolen it. He had merely been playing with it and had assumed he hadn't needed Gregor's permission. Without warning or uttering a word, however, Gregor had grabbed Sandor and had "punished" him by holding his head into a burning brazier. Gregor had only been forced to stop after half a dozen servants managed to pry him away from his brother. The incident left severe burn scars over the right half of Sandor's face. Sandor had taken to wearing his hair long on that side to cover them.
  
  That sadistic twat had even been knighted and made a brother of the Kingsguard. King Robert had rewarded Gregor Clegane for the viciously killing of Prince Rhaegar's two children by Elia Martell: their daughter Rhaenys and baby Aegon. He had killed baby Aegon by bashing his head against the wall, and then while still covered in the gore from her children had proceeded to viciously rape Elia, after which he killed her. It was high time for his brother to be punished.
  
  He sat up straight abandoning all pretence of not wanting their company and encouraged Stark to unfold his plan. It was genius. The only drawback was that he wouldn't be the one to finish his shitass brother off.
  
  ' Well, that's for the best really', he mused, ' wouldn't want to be called "a kinslayer" for the rest of my life. At least they promised me I still get to rough him up and tell that sadistic prick to his face that his little brother has finally come for him. '
  
  Sandor had needed no further persuading. He was on board. He would help them meet his brother somewhere in Flea Bottom. Together they would lure him into a secluded spot somewhere close to the docks by dangling the promise of very young fresh whores in front of him. There they would ply him with drugs. That part of the plan would be a piece of cake. His dumb fool of a brother would never see it coming. The hardest part would be to get the big heavy cunt on board of the ship they had commissioned without alerting anyone. It seemed the three men had taken all kind of precautions to keep the little birds and other spies out of the loop.
  
  Sandor was no dumbass. He had an inkling something was up. 'But hey, anyone who hated his brother and wanted him dead was his no enemy of his .' He would keep his eyes and ears open. See if he could learn whether these three were planning other things. He should try to find out what motivated these three. Ser Oswell Whent's collaboration he could get. But a Stark leading this mission and tagging another Northern lord along with him was suspicious, to say the least. These certainly were interesting times.
  
  His thoughts circled back to the mission at hand. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's face when he realized that he would be shipped off to Dorne. ' Hells, he couldn't wait to hear how Dorne would make the son of a bitch suffer.'
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter we will go back to Winterfell.
  
  Also, Ser Arthur is on a quest.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The pack grows
  Chapter 4: The pack grows
  
  Summary:
  
  Sansa is born and Ser Arthur is on a quest.
  
  Notes:
  
  The main chapters are mostly ordered chronologically, although the events in this chapter occur a year before Benjen's visit to Greywater Watch.
  
  The interludes on the other hand can be past, present or future snippets of the story. I've given my muse free reign with them.
  
  Enjoy!
  
  The Pack grows
  
  Winterfell, a year earlier.
  
  The morning light streamed through the windows of their bedroom. Ned tried to get up without disturbing his wife. Gods knew she needed her sleep. She looked tired all the time, even this morning after a full night's sleep she still had dark circles under her eyes. The tented covers clearly outlined the shape of her body, heavy with their second child. He stumbled around the room to gather his clothes so he could go dress in his own chambers.
  
  He was almost ready and sat back down on his own bed to put his boots on. A small smile ghosted over his face. He had hardly used his own room for sleeping since they had arrived at Winterfell as husband and wife. Even during the days of her moonblood, they slept side by side, occasionally indulging in other ways of satisfying each other. He knew he had subtly manipulated her at the beginning. He had played on her sense of duty to ease her into life in the North, into her role as Lady of Winterfell, into her role as his lover. And he had succeeded. In the safe environment of their private chambers, slowly but surely a loving wife had emerged.
  
  Once they were left alone for the night, she let down her mask of the proud, stern lady of his household and a passionate lover appeared. Even better, she became his rock. Not only had he found the willing body he had craved for since his own had become aware of the allure of women, but he had also found an intelligent adviser and a trusted, caring partner to organize his keep and to raise his child with. Soon the right term would be children. Yes, his marriage had turned out all right.
  
  Well at least mostly. Sometimes Ned had to use his autocratic tone of Warden of the North and put his foot down, mainly when it concerned Robb. Catelyn was rather overprotective. She was upset by each bruise he obtained while playing outside with the servant's children. She had been strongly against Ned's order to start his riding lessons or his formal sword training at what she called 'such a tender age'. If he would let her have her way, Robb would always be neatly dressed up as a little lord, hardly allowed to move, always being kept close by her side. The only thing she approved of was his lessons with Maester Luwin.
  
  Their last big fight had been just a few days ago. It had started out innocent enough.
  
  They were discussing the lesson plan that Maester Luwin had drafted for their son's education. His wife had been seated with her feet propped up on a footstool, leaning into him, the both of them installed on the large couch in her sitting room. The blazing hearth made the scene even cosier.
  
  "Calculus, reading lessons, writing lessons, the great houses of Westeros, geography," she paused looking up from the list into Ned's eyes. "Quite an impressive list for such a young child," she remarked. "And there is still more, let me continue: keywords of the Old Tongue, High Valerian," she stopped once more. "High Valerian, Ned? Whatever will he need that for?"
  
  "Well Cat, as you know someday ' Winter is coming' . So to state one reason: for the North to survive, we will need to increase our trade agreements with Essos. It is always better to understand your counterpart during negotiations. It is even better when they are not aware of it. It has helped me several times in the past not to mention how my younger brother has been able to get himself out of a few scrapes in Essos. One time especially when he could overhear two men discussing how they were going to rob him as soon as he had retired for the night. They had clearly recognized him as a traveller of some means who was staying at the tavern. They didn't quite speak High Valerian, but he could make out enough words from the dialect they were using to foil their plans."
  
  "Anyhow, I have always thought that gathering knowledge is not only about its practical usefulness. It is a way to train the mind, to get a broader understanding of the world in its entirety, a way of developing yourself." He paused and smiled indulgently at her. "I'm sorry. I am getting carried away. Please read on, what's next on this list?"
  
  "I'm almost at the end. Maester Luwin suggests that we would perhaps want to teach him about the Gods ourselves." Catelyn looked thoughtful and proposed:"Well, luckily you have built a little Sept at my request. I can start to take him with me a few times a sennight and tell him all about the Seven-Pointed Star. Soon he will be able to pray alongside me." She kept her expression neutral but held her breath waiting for Ned's reaction.
  
  Ned frowned, tilted his head at her and was visibly searching for the right words. "Catelyn", he started, trying to stay calm and speak slowly in order to make her hear every single word he would speak to her, "Robb is a son of the North. One day, if all goes well, he will be the most powerful man in this Kingdom. His men must be loyal to him, respect him, understand him, must be able to see him as a true Northerner, as one of them." He kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. "We Northerners, and that includes me rather prominently make no mistake, we believe that the only Gods who have any power here in our beloved North are the old Gods. Your so-called new Gods are the Gods of the Andals. As you know us Northerners are not Andals. We are of the First Men and proud to be so."
  
  Although he saw Catelyn grow tense and noticed the colour rise in her check he continued his discourse. "Robb will grow up with the Old Gods, pray in the Godswood, he will be married there as well. It is very likely he will marry a lady from a prominent Northern house. You can teach him about the Seven so he can understand the ways of the other Kingdoms but it will never be his religion."
  
  Catelyn had withdrawn from him as far as the couch would allow. Although her eyes were teary, there was a hint of steel in them when she countered. "He is my son too, Ned. I will not let him grow up as a savage. My family will never understand. They will not respect him. It was difficult enough that I had to marry...". She was stopped by the thunderous expression on her husband's face as he interrupted her.
  
  "Don't you dare finish that sentence, wife!" he yelled seeing he would not succeed in his plan to gently ease her into agreeing to adhere to his point of view. He imposed his authority on her. "I am your Lord and Husband, Woman! You will obey me in this! This is no discussion! I am telling you: Robb will worship the old Gods!" His last sentence was uttered with a significant pause between each word to further emphasize his edict. After finishing his diatribe he stood up and left the room abruptly not giving her any chance to object.
  
  Two days of stony silence had ensued. Well, it hadn't helped that this particular topic had come up during the last stages of her pregnancy. Maester Luwin had tried to act as a peacemaker. He had patiently explained to his Lord that a pregnant woman could be a bit irrational at times. Since Ned hadn't been present during her first pregnancy he hadn't witnessed the mood swings that had plagued her then, the Maester had added. He had also reassured Ned that although Catelyn kept to her bedroom and wouldn't see him, her health was fine and her pregnancy was posing no problems. What Maester Luwin had used as arguments to soften Catelyn's attitude toward her husband, he knew not.
  
  In the end, they had found a kind of fragile compromise, although Ned wouldn't dare to tell his wife that he considered it a victory. Robb would grow up with the Old Gods. However, if the Gods gifted their marriage with daughters, Catelyn was free to teach them the Seven-Pointed Star, but they would be instructed in both religions and would be allowed to make up their own mind once they were old enough to decide for themselves. Slowly the atmosphere at Winterfell ameliorated and their interactions grew affectionate once more.
  
  Fortunately for him, she would deliver in a few days and he wouldn't have an irrational pregnant wife any longer. He decided to go to the Godswood and pray for a safe delivery and a healthy child.
  
  The Godswood was as peaceful as always. Ned loved it here. This was the place where he could get his thoughts together and focus on his problems. He had learned to tackle his issues one at a time. It was often the only way to stay sane. He would mentally picture his mind as this storage space with lots of tiny boxes. Then he would proceed to put every problem in a separate box. That way he could mentally take out the most pressing issue and no matter how complicated it had seemed before, with his entire mind focussed on this one difficulty, he was able to come to an acceptable solution most of the time. Then he could open another 'box' and concentrate on the next issue.
  
  And the Gods knew he had his fair share of burdens. As if having become Warden of the North without being groomed for it wasn't enough of a burden onto itself, he was also responsible for the wellbeing of the largest of the seven Kingdoms, a kingdom with the harshest environment of all. It was not easy to keep his people fed and out of trouble. The Northern Lords were a proud and stubborn lot. The only reason he was able to keep them in line was because of their unwavering loyalty to House Stark.
  
  The Starks had ruled the North for thousands of years, first as the Kings of Winter and for the last three hundred years as Wardens of the North and faithful subjects of the Targaryen Dynasty. The Rebellion had changed this status quo. Well, not for long, if Ned had anything to say about it.
  
  For the moment Robert Baratheon was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Once Robert had been his best friend, he had even been closer to Robert than to his elder brother Brandon. Ned and Robert had grown up together for a few years, both being fostered at the Vale under the care of Jon Arryn. They were thick as thieves then and got in all kinds of trouble together but would always stand up for each other. Either they both got away when they got caught, or they were both punished. How times had changed.
  
  Somehow his life had taken an unexpected turn. For some reason, the Gods had made him the main instigator of a conspiracy to overthrow Robert's rule. 'Ironic really', he thought. 'I am a Stark, famous for the Stark honour. Robert will never see it coming.'
  
  Ned kneeled in front of the hear tree. 'Why me?" he implored the Gods. "Why did you Gods put this burden on my shoulders?" The Gods remained eerily silent. Nevertheless, Ned felt his mind calm down. He could focus once more. Ned knew his course was set. He knew he was doing the right thing. There was no doubt. The envisioned endgame was the only true course!
  
  Besides Robert could only blame himself for losing Ned's support. Robert had doomed his rule himself. And that only moments after claiming the throne.
  
  Ned still had a hard time believing his erstwhile friend capable of relishing in the brutal murder of innocent children. Robert had waved aside Ned's protestations and refused to consider retaliations for the monsters who had taken it upon themselves to murder these children and their mother before Ned and Robert could reach the throne room.
  
  No, Robert had done even worse. He had thanked these dishonourable men and raised their status. The Mountain became a trusted knight and Tywin Lannister became the father-in-law to the King. Robert had married Cersei Lannister and much of the Lannister gold with it. Ned had left the capital, disgusted, disillusioned and disappointed. He had evaded King Robert's invitations ever since, stating his office of Warden of the North as an excuse.
  
  He told himself to stop reminiscing. The only thing he wished for was for someone to reassure him that the way they were trying to achieve their goal was the best one. Someone who could confirm that the plans they were devising were the best way to prevent as much bloodshed as possible when the time was upon them.
  
  At least it helped some that he could talk these things through with Catelyn now. At first, he had kept everything from Catelyn, only Maester Luwin and Benjen knowing of the existence of Jon. But gradually Catelyn had become more a Stark than a Tully. She was fiercely loyal to her new family here in the north. And Ned had started to trust his wife with more delicate matters.
  
  And then one night when he had been deeply troubled over a report from the Driftmark, Lyanna's secret poured out of him. At first, Catelyn had had trouble believing that Lyanna wasn't kidnapped and raped, but had willingly eloped with the married crown prince. But as Ned started to elaborate she had taken it all in stride. Well, at least since she had learned of the annulment and the second marriage. She had relented once she had realized Jon was a bastard but a trueborn prince.
  
  Of course, she always insisted on taking every precaution possible for the safety of their family but she had become a soundboard. He could test his theories on her, gauge her reaction and work from there. Catelyn had become a co-conspirator. 'At least when it is not a religious issue', he chuckled.
  
  Ned bowed his head and prayed once more for guidance from the Gods.
  
  Feeling lighter he went back inside and entered his solar, determined to start to work on the next steps now that his mind was calmer. He seated himself behind his desk . 'How best to go forward? I must contact Howland and see if he knows of another couple at the Driftmark who can take Jon in case Edric Velaryon succumb to his illness. I would like to go this time and see the boy but I cannot be missed here at the moment. Perhaps it is also better no to risk it yet. Better to send Benjen on official business to Greywater Watch. And I must send for...'
  
  "My Lord," the handmaid of Lady Catelyn stumbled in his solar unannounced interrupting his solitary reflections. She seemed out of breath and Ned knew immediately something was the matter with his wife.
  
  "Catelyn?" he asked standing abruptly already on his way to the door.
  
  "Her waters have broken, My Lord! Your child will be born soon! But you cannot go to her now, my Lord!" She blocked the doorway. "Best stay here and let the women handle this." The handmaid, realising that she had just given orders to her Lord, became anxious and bit her lip. Ned saw her take a deep breath before she added. "That is if you don't mind me saying so, my Lord." She curtsied. "I will inform his Lordship as soon as there is more news to relay. I am sorry for disturbing you, my Lord."
  
  Ned sat down again and nodded. The handmaid left immediately. A few moments later he quit the room in search of some company. Staying in his solar, served no purpose. He wasn't able to concentrate any longer.
  
  aaa
  
  In the Great Hall, his brother Benjen and Rodrik Cassel, his Master at Arms, were doing their utmost to keep Lord Stark calm. Benjen was a bit out of his depth here but showed his solidarity by his continuing presence. Cassel offered more substantial help. He had successfully stopped Ned's pacing, had persuaded him to take a seat and had ordered a servant to fetch ale for the three of them. Next, he had tried to distract Ned with some amusing anecdotes of previous childbirths in his family. Of course, he stuck to the more positive aspects and for the most part, told tales of the adorable antics of small babes.
  
  After what seemed like days of waiting to Ned but had actually been less than half a day, the handmaid arrived with a small bundle in her hands. "Congratulations my Lord! You have a daughter!"
  
  Ned couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face. "And my wife?" He inquired, "Is she all right? How soon can I visit her?"
  
  "She is resting now my Lord. The birth was not all that difficult but still, each childbed asks a lot of a woman's body. I will let you know when she awakes." The handmaid carefully handed the tiny girl to her father.
  
  Ned was awed. The first time he had seen Robb, the boy had already been several moons old. His new daughter, however, was tiny, just like Jon had been. Robb had been a giant compared to them. She almost disappeared inside his arms. He had to readjust her in order to be able to see the little face and did so with trepidation. She looked so frail. However, the baby hardly reacted to his awkward manhandling. She was lovely to behold. There were already tusks of red hair visible on her little head. Benjen and Rodrik both strained to catch a peek of her.
  
  "Congratulations big brother. I predict she will be a beauty when she grows up. In a few years, you will have to use all your cunning to keep the suitors at bay. Not to mention all the ravens you will receive from the great houses petitioning for marriage alliances." Benjen grinned at his brother. "Better you than me."
  
  His face turned more serious. "I am glad Catelyn is all right though."
  
  "Me too, brother, without a doubt, me too." Ned still beamed, his eyes never wavering from his daughter's face. It had taken him some time to get Catelyn with child again. Robb would be celebrating his fourth name day in a few days. Catelyn had suffered a miscarriage two year ago, so this little one was truly very welcome. He focussed on the bundle in his arms again, starting to feel a suspicious moist sensation on his forearm.
  
  He started to walk towards the nursery in search of female assistance. In the corridor, he motioned for a guard to approach and instructed him to fetch Robb. "Tell my son to come inside and clean himself up. Then he should be escorted to the nursery," he ordered the guard whose eyes were drawn to the little bundle in his Lord's arms.
  
  "Of course, my Lord. I will send the little lord up straight away. And congratulations, my Lord!", the guard said deferentially tearing his eyes away from the cute baby girl and hurried in the direction of the courtyard.
  
  Ned resumed his trip to the nursery. He looked forward to introducing his son and daughter to each other.
  
  aaa
  
  The next day, Lord Stark summoned Maester Luwin to his solar. He felt on top of things again. It was time to throw himself back into his duties.
  
  "Good morning, Maester! I need you to prepare messages to the Lords of the North." Ned started the conversation before the Maester could close the door. "We can announce the birth of my daughter but will use the opportunity to add extra info in the scrolls. I want to arrange a meeting. It's high time we reconvene to check on the different stages of our reinforcement efforts and plan for the next steps. In the message destined for Ironrath, ask Gregor Forrester whether he is prepared to host the meeting this time. Do not forget to ask Lord Manderly to send a messenger out to contact Lord Reed at Greywater Watch. I want the man to leave today. Reed should at least send a representative to our meeting if he cannot come himself."
  
  "I will all be done as you wish, my Lord.", Luwin bowed and started to leave the room before reconsidering. "I presume we will send out messages to the Red Keep and The Vale as well? The message to the Tullys has already been sent as requested."
  
  "Yes, send a message to the Vale but only with the news that I have a daughter and she and my wife are healthy. As for a message to King Robert, I don't know." Ned frowned, his good mood having all but left him.
  
  "I suppose it cannot be helped." Ned decided after releasing a sigh. "I only fear it will result in another summons to King's landing. I am running out of excuses to turn King Robert down gently and not to cause a permanent rift. I worry that if I keep refusing his invitations, one day the King will turn up at Winterfell without notice."
  
  Ned went over to the window and looked down at his son who was playing outside with his wooden toys. That little boy had not a care in the world. He took a deep breath and answered Maester Luwin's question. "Yes, do send out a raven to the Red Keep but keep it formal and as brief as possible. Best send out ravens to a representative of each of the Kingdoms as well: House Martell, House Tyrell, Lord Renly and Stannis Baratheon,... I'm sure you know whom to inform better than me. But I do not want you to send a raven to Pyke. That is all. Thank you, Maester."
  
  Robb was still playing in the courtyard but had spotted his father by now. He smiled and waved at him with great enthusiasm. Ned returned his wave and moved away from the window. The sight of his happy son and heir had lifted his spirits. 'Time to tackle the agenda for the coming meeting and I must not forget to look in on my wife and daughter.' Ned sat back down at his desk and started to study the drawings of the harbour expansions.
  
  aaa
  
  Interlude3: Summerhall
  
  Somewhere in the Stormlands.
  
  "Gods it was hot". Years living on an island where there was always at least a refreshing breeze had made him forget how much heat a blistering sun could generate in the middle of the day this far inland, this far south. Ser Arthur mopped his brow for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was alone, but somehow that was a nice change. For once he didn't bear the responsibility for someone's life, for the life of a child of humongous importance.
  
  Four years ago at the Tower of Joy, the three of them had unanimously decided to withdraw from public life in the Seven Kingdoms and vowed to dedicate their lives to protect the newborn King and help him reclaim his throne when the Prince was old enough to stake his claim. They had been prepared to do anything necessary even if that meant allying themselves with House Stark. It had been a calculated gamble. Ser Gerold had been steadfast in his belief that for Lord Eddard of House Stark family meant everything. "Wolves protected their pack at all cost. And the baby is his family," Gerold had argued.
  
  And his Lord Commander had been right. Hells, Lord Stark had instantly hurried to the far south of the Seven Kingdoms, the lord's only inducement being a vague anonymous message that Ser Arthur and his two brothers of the Kingsguard had formulated and addressed to Eddard Stark, for his eyes only. The message contained the vague whereabouts of his missing sister.
  
  The rest had been easy. Ser Gerold had covertly approached the Lord of Winterfell and brought him to the Tower of Joy to meet poor Lyanna. Ser Gerold still enjoyed repeating each detail of his initial conversation with the young, proud Lord on that fateful night.
  
  Lord Stark and Howland Reed hadn't recognised Ser Gerold Hightower at first. Well, it was dark and Ser Gerold had not been dressed befitting a Kingsguard. But still, afterwards, Lord Stark had told Ser Arthur he couldn't fathom why he hadn't recognised the Lord Commander the very moment the man had accosted him that night near the stables of that inn in Dorne. Upon learning that Ser Gerold could guide him to his sister who was seriously ill, but that discretion was paramount to guarantee her safety, Ned Stark and Howland Reed had agreed to follow him to the Tower of Joy forthwith, without alerting the rest of their travelling party who was sleeping at the inn. These men would remain unaware they had temporarily been abandoned by their liege lord.
  
  It had been a heartbreaking scene that greeted Ser Arthur when he had left his post and had set foot in the room a few moments after granting entrance to the two Northerners. Ned Stark was sitting on his knees next to the bed. A feverish Lyanna, although hardly conscious, seemed to recognize her brother. She had taken his hand and had beseeched him with her last breaths to protect her newborn son, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned had been devastated and bewildered. His eyes had found the wet nurse who stood in the corner with a small baby in her hands, sobbing quietly. Then he saw the blood staining the furs. Unable to utter a single word, he had desperately held his sister's small hands in his and had silently nodded to her, promising to do as she requested.
  
  It seemed that Lyanna had successfully staved off death until she could see her son safely cared for by family. Her last words were spoken so softly that Ned had to lean over and put his ear to her mouth to be able to hear them: "His name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen". And Lyanna had released her last breath.
  
  Ser Arthur still recalled the heated debate that ensued later in a room at ground level before reaching a consensus everybody could live with. Lord Stark had been adamant. The boy belonged with him. He would take him to Winterfell and proclaim him to be his son. He would forsake his honour and admit he had betrayed his wife and sired a bastard during the war. His nephew would grow up alongside his true children. Aegon wouldn't want for anything.
  
  The three Kingsguards had been appalled. Their King growing up with the stigma of a bastard hanging over his head, unacceptable! Furthermore, they could not let him go anywhere without them. They were sworn to protect him. And if they followed him to Winterfell, anyone who had a lick of sense would immediately put two and two together. Aegon and everyone who had helped hide him would be in mortal danger. King Robert's hate for House Targaryen knew no bounds.
  
  They seemed at an impasse. Several possibilities were suggested and rejected out of hand, the free cities with the other Targaryens being one of them. But all of a sudden, Howland Reed, who had stayed out of the discussion until then, had offered a possible solution. After some tweaking, a plan had been agreed upon by all parties and the rest was history. Howland Reed had accompanied them on their journey to the Driftmark. Ned Stark had reluctantly left his nephew in their hands and had returned to the inn. The next morning, in the company of his entire entourage, he would pick up Lyanna's body and bring his sister back to Winterfell to be buried in the crypts of her ancestral home.
  
  And in one fell swoop, Ser Arthur's life had been turned upside down. One day he was a famous Kingsguard, hailed as the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms and proudly bearing the honourable title of "Sword of the Morning", the next day he was forced to go by a false name, disguised as a modest war veteran, living on a small island and doing his utmost to keep a low profile. Not once had he dared to reach out to his family, who were still mourning his loss.
  
  Almost five years he had been living like that now, in a small village at the Driftmark and recently at Greywater Watch in the Neck. But Ser Arthur didn't regret the choices they had made that fateful day. Quite the opposite really! He had come to love the little boy-King and was convinced that he could become an excellent ruler with the right guidance. The small boy had his heart in the right place, could already reign in his temper most of the time and showed intelligence beyond his years. Yes, he was prepared to make any sacrifice necessary to do right by his true King.
  
  Ser Arthur's stopped his reminiscing. He had arrived. The ruins of Summerhall were before him. 'Let's find out whether Lord Reed is right about this and I haven't come all this way on a wild goose chase.'
  
  Another benefit of allying themselves with the North had been the strange premonitions of Lord Reed. The crannogman called himself a ' greenseer' . Ser Arthur wasn't at all sure that he understood all of what that entailed, but he knew that Lord Reed had been instrumental in thwarting the little birds and other spies until now. His warnings had helped them escape detection on several occasions.
  
  'Well, I can only hope his so-called vision of the eggs also proves true. ' Ser Arthur was sent alone on this mission because discretion was of the utmost importance. Lord Reed had dreamt that the three dragon eggs were still somewhere at Summerhall. He had explained that in his dreams he had seen the eggs lying somewhere in a kind of cave beneath the ruins. He had even claimed that at the time of the dream he had felt a premonition that the eggs were somehow waiting for Aegon.
  
  'It could make sense that the eggs are still here. I know of rumours that the fired that destroyed Summerhall had been caused by an attempt to hatch the dragon eggs. Perhaps the floor collapsed and the eggs disappeared beneath it? Nobody lived to tell the tale.' Arthur pondered. His heart pounded in his chest as he entered the ruins, eager to start the search.
  
  He had been searching for a day and a half and had been over every nook and cranny of these damn caves twice. He was about to give up when suddenly a ray of sunlight shone through a crack in the cave wall and showed him the way to an alcove he had missed when he had inspected that corner twice before. Ser Arthur felt a sense of calm enveloping him. It suddenly seemed to him as if the Gods were guiding him and wished for him to succeed in this quest. And lo and behold, there they were! Ser Arthur kneeled in front of the alcove and marvelled at the sight before him. Three eggs lay there, sparkling in the sunlight. Each one was unique in its own beauty. One egg was a blend of shades of green, the middle one was silvery and the last one, the biggest one was a shiny black.
  
  Ser Arthur remained in this reverent position in front of the eggs for quite some time. He couldn't believe it. How had these eggs not been discovered before? They were probably some of the most important artefacts in the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Finally, he emerged from his stupor and very delicately removed the eggs from their hiding place. Now the only thing he left for him to do was to carry these precious eggs safely to Greywater Watch without anyone finding out where he had been and what he was he carrying.
  
  'A piece of cake compared to what I've faced before, at least I hope it will be.'
  
  Notes:
  
  Next chapter: conspiracy meetings and an interlude in King's Landing
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Conspiring
  Chapter 5: Conspiring
  
  Summary:
  
  Several meetings of our co-conspirators take place at Greywater Watch, a few moons after the Greyjoy Rebellion. The interlude gives us a glimpse of King's Landing
  
  Notes:
  
  The main chapter makes a time jump. I am eager to arrive at the point in my story where I can get Jon to actively take part and become the leader of this band of conspirators. I hope you do not find long meetings boring. These men have a lot to discuss.
  
  The interlude will be a flashback.
  
  For all of you who worry about Littlefinger being out of sync: don't. He fostered at Riverrun and fell in love with Catelyn when they were in their teens. In my universe, he followed Lord Arryn to King's Landing shortly after the Rebellion (recommended by House Tully). He still is the conniving traitorous bastard from canon though.
  
  You may all thank lostWOLF-KING. His nice review made me post this chapter early.
  
  Greywater Watch, Lord Reed's solar
  
  Lord Reed watched them enter his solar one by one: Benjen Stark, Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, Lord Manderly, and Eddard Stark. Ned was the last one to sit down. His solemn friend looked content, relaxed, happy even. Ned had spent most of the day following Jon around and observing every part of his nephew's daily routine. He had closely observed the boy's interactions with his teachers but also with the servants and the noble visitors during mealtimes.
  
  Howland had quickly realised that Lord Stark's purpose for coming here had not been the casual visit he had announced by a raven. Ned had expressed a desire to visit his dear sister's son, not using these exact words of course, since Jon existence was still Westeros' best-kept secret. But Howard had understood his friend's veiled words and knew that the high lord wished to see for himself whether the boy was happy here. His liege lord had taken a great interest not only in the progress of Jon's lessons, but he had also been assessing Jon's character and social skills. The solemn Warden of the North was more than satisfied with his findings.
  
  The chairs were arranged in a small circle to encourage all participants to take an active part in the meeting. After filling everyone's cups, the servants quickly left and closed the heavy doors. Lord Reed as their host at Greywater Watch opened the meeting. "Let's begin, shall we? I believe we have a lot to discuss. First up is the situation in the North. Lord Stark, will you elaborate, please?"
  
  Ned nodded his head. He turned to the two Kingsguards who were seated next to each other. "Can I count on you two to bring Ser Oswell up to speed? I consider it vital that he should also be informed of what we are discussing here. Can you please encourage him to let me know if there is something he wishes to bring to my attention? Also, see to it that he is present at our last meeting that will take place in two days. Perhaps Ser Arthur can take on guard duties then?" He looked at them, expecting a reply.
  
  Ser Gerold spoke up, "That goes without saying, Lord Stark. We have no secrets between the three of us and Ser Oswell is assertive enough to voice his grievances in case he has any."
  
  Ser Arthur merely smiled and nodded. "We will arrange it so," he confirmed. "I will guard our King during the final meeting.
  
  Ned's small smile expressing his thanks concluded this small preluded. The high lord took a deep breath and started his report. "First, there is the shoring up of the Northern defenses. Our strategic strongholds have completed the renovations we ordered them to undertake. Most of them did so eagerly since we provided the coin. Our biggest challenge, rebuilding Moat Cailin and man it, is still in progress. I made a short stop on my way over here and can confirm the builder's report. They are indeed more than half done. Soon, we will be able to seal off that entrance to the North should the Crown declare war on us. At the moment, over five hundred men are camped out there, a mixture of builders, other craftsman and soldiers. We are encouraging smallfolk to settle there and start to farm the lands around the stronghold. The first families are set to arrive any day now."
  
  "Our eastern and western coastlines have also strengthened their defenses. We have paid extra attention to the west coast, as promised. Still, I pray that with the Greyjoys soundly defeated, there will be a significant decrease in raiding partings."
  
  "Hear, hear," Benjen Stark shouted, raising his cup with freshly brewed northern ale. The others raised theirs as well and took a healthy sip.
  
  When the cups had been lowered again, Ned continued as if there had been no interruption. "The first shipments with Essosi glass have arrived so we can start expanding our glass gardens and grow more food. As discussed during previous meetings, it is necessary to prepare for the possibility that we could be cut off from the South for an extended period once make we make our play. Should anyone have additional concerns, don't hesitate to voice them, either now or later." Eddard Stark paused and let his eyes wander over the men present. As no one spoke up he resumed his briefing.
  
  "I have been able to keep our real motive hidden from the Northern Lords so far, present company excepted of course." Howland saw Ned exchange a smile with Lord Manderly before looking him in the eye. Howland gave him a small nod which prompted Ned to continue.
  
  "But it has not been easy and it won't be long before we will have to reassess our decision to keep it from my vassals for another few years." He sighed. "I know I was to first to agree that secrecy is necessary to keep our Targaryen Prince safe, but we must also consider that the Lords of the North might react deeply insulted when they learn that they have been kept out of the loop for so long and refuse to support our cause."
  
  Benjen Stark wanted to protest but his elder brother silenced him with a look. "This is not the first time that I have warned you all that although these lords are completely loyal to me, it is not a given that they will follow me blindly in supporting a half Stark half Targaryen boy's claim to the Iron Throne, especially if it could lead to war and bloodshed. But let's table this topic for now and focus on easier topics."
  
  Lord Howland was keen to help his liege lord and longtime friend. "Then let us discuss the Wildling situation at the Wall. I believe Benjen Stark is best placed to tell us about the newest developments." All eyes turned expectantly to the younger Stark brother.
  
  Benjen straightened himself. He mimicked his brother's serious manner and gave an account of his last visit at the wall. "Jeor Mormont expressed his thanks once more for our ongoing support. He relays the gratitude of the older recruits who have been at the Wall long enough to appreciate the improvement of their living conditions but mostly the quality of their food and drink. The Lord Commander has not found a mention of any of his predecessors of a monarch or Warden sending financial resources but more importantly enough recruits on a regular basis."
  
  "They have enough funds to renovate Castle Black and will also try to make a few of the long-deserted castles along the Wall more habitable. The steady influx of recruits has reached the point that they can split their forces between more watchpoints. Also, during my last visit, I experienced first-hand that the quality of the food and drink has improved considerably. For the first time, the ale they served me tasted like ale. The men were dressed better and look cleaner." Benjen's paused for a moment since it appeared he no longer had his audience's attention as they were either exchanging small jokes or congratulating each other on a job well done. He waited a moment longer before he coughed and continued with the more serious news.
  
  "However, scouts keep reporting large Wildling tribes migrating from the higher North to settlements closer to the Wall. Mormont is monitoring the situation closely. A little bit over two moons ago, a party of twelve Wildlings made it across the Wall and created a lot of havoc before they were captured. I can assure you, it takes a lot of balls to climb an ice structure of 700 feet tall. I can't fathom how stealing a few pieces of cattle and harassing our people is enough of a motivation to endanger their lives like that. It raises questions."
  
  "I suggested sending someone beyond the Wall to infiltrate the Wildings and live amongst them for a time to find out whatever motivates this sudden migration. However, the Lord Commander rejected my idea. He argued that it is too dangerous and that the situation is not dire enough to order a valuable ranger into such a life-threatening situation." Benjen took a breath and fixated his brother. "He raised a good point, I have to admit. But since he is the one calling the shots, all we can do is keep offering our support?"
  
  "That is right." His brother confirmed. "The Wildlings beyond the Wall are the responsibility of the Night's Watch. However", his voice took on authority. "If the Lord Commander cannot keep them contained and they reach our lands, then it is our North and my subjects that will be in danger. The people of the North are my responsibility. And if the Wildlings continue to scale the Wall, I will be obligated to interfere and Jeor Mormont will have to relent and coordinate with us." He looked at everyone present to gauge their reaction before continuing.
  
  "That's why I propose to keep sending my brother, Benjen Stark to the Night's Watch. We need to keep a close eye on the situation. Besides, these visits give us access to Maester Aemon. He has already been instrumental in guiding Jon and the boy will need his counsel even more in the future. Maester Aemon still keeps some ' Targaryen secrets' he can only divulge to an heir of House Targaryen."
  
  Howland, detecting a hint of frustration in Ned's tone, intervened. "I believe we can all agree that the only action we can take for now is indeed sending an emissary to Castle Black regularly. Perhaps we can now discuss how far along we are with the building of a naval fleet for our future king? Lord Manderly?" Howland redirected everyone's attention to the Northern Lord who had been a silent participant so far. "Would you be willing to give a status report, please?"
  
  Lord Manderly seemed to grow in size. He cleared his throat and looked around making sure he had everyone's attention. "As you all know, what will become our future royal fleet is being built at separate locations to avoid detection. At White Harbour a hundred new ships are ready and twenty more are under construction. Our most pressing problem is finding adequate crewmen. The North has never had much of a fleet and sailing is not in our blood. So any input you have to solve this issue is welcome. But first, allow me to inform you about what has been happening at the other locations."
  
  "The Skagosi have been surprisingly accommodating. That small community has almost finished building fifty ships. Bear Island, as predicted was most adamant to help. They have twenty ships to lend to our cause and five more under construction. Word from Riverrun arrived. They have pledged to support House Stark and the North by donating fifty ships, complete with crew on the sole condition that the North bears the cost of the crew's wages. I guess we have to thank Lady Catelyn for her influence there." Lord Manderly smiled at his liege lord. "There is however the practical problem of sailing them out of Seagard without alerting the Ironborn."
  
  Ser Gerold held up his hand. "If I may speak?"
  
  Lord Manderly nodded his assent.
  
  "It would be a strategic advantage to have some of our ships located there. At some point, it will become our responsibility to defend that part of the Seven Kingdoms as well. The Ironborn are still a threat. Not our biggest one, but small raids can create enough of a nuisance. I would suggest taking command of these vessels but leaving them stationed there, at least for the time being. It is still unclear how and where our forces will best be deployed when our King stakes his claim. It will also help persuade the smallfolk that the True King has been protecting their shores for some time and that he already cares for all his potential subjects when he finally comes forward" Ser Gerold stopped, clearly expecting the others to support his suggestion.
  
  Lord Manderly was the first to react. "I believe we can agree to leave them there for the time being at least." When no one objected, Lord Manderly finished the rest of his report, "Let me just add that at the Driftmark, another part of the fleet is being built. If all goes as planned, by the end of the year they will have 50 ships with crew! All of them financed by Lord Stark's mysterious war fund. To sum it all up, we will have almost three hundred ships at our command by the end of the year. Not a small feat to accomplish, us being Northerners!" He smiled proudly. "Should we need more vessels in the immediate future, we might consider buying some in Essos. We could keep them docked over there until we require them, so as not to arouse too much suspicion. For the time being our ships are mostly anchored in secluded parts of the harbours. As far as I have been able to ascertain, nobody has voiced any suspicions yet and in the North, the smallfolk are grateful to find work more easily. The only speculation overheard in the taverns of White Harbour about the increased number of ships in the taverns, are theories on how these will surely be used to increase trade with the Reach and Essos before the seasons turn, because winter is coming ." He smiled at Lord Stark.
  
  This time is was Ser Arthur who asked for permission to speak. "I have a suggestion to remedy your lack of seamen. We could recruit on Dragonstone. I know for a fact that there are a lot of former sailors now living as smallfolk on that island that are unhappy with their current circumstances and would be most willing to take up their old profession, even more so once they eventually learn that they will be sailing under the flag with the three-headed dragon in the foreseeable future. But you cannot send one of us. We would be recognized immediately. We should send someone else." Ser Arthur finished.
  
  Lord Stark looked over to Howland Reed and saw him nod. "Thank you, Ser Arthur. That is a most excellent suggestion. It also happens to stress my next issue: manpower. I am of the opinion that we ought to consider expanding our little circle. We are stretched too thin as it is and there is still a lot to be accomplished. We are not yet halfway through the items that need to be discussed and I am certain more actions will be decided upon over the next few days that will require one of us to take an active part."
  
  "I know that we need to tread carefully and I am well aware that I am the one who is always arguing that it is unfair to have more people know of our future King's secret while he himself remains in the dark of who he is. However, it cannot be helped. We need more helping hands. And there are things we can't ask of people without giving them proper motivation. The best example is sitting here right in front of us." Lord Stark pointed at Lord Manderly. "I couldn't possibly have made him the admiral of three hundred ships without explaining our purpose."
  
  "Every potential candidate will be discussed first and we will move forward only when we are unanimous in our decision. I'm going to name some possibilities and we can take our time deciding. We do not need to reach a consensus today. And if you have other suggestions, you can bring them up during one of our next meetings." Ned coughed. All this talking was made him thirsty. He took a few sips before revealing the name of his first candidate.
  
  "I propose we consider bringing Davos Seaworth into the fold. If you recall, he was the captain of the ship that initially brought Jon from Dorne to the Driftmark nine years ago. He is a wise and loyal man. His wife is related to Lord Reed's wife. If we can persuade him to join us, he will be a great asset to find competent captains and sailors. We could send him to Dragonstone. Furthermore, his smuggling skills will come in handy. I am sure that Lord Reed will vouch for him as well."
  
  All eyes turned to Lord Reed who simply nodded his head.
  
  "Next, I think we could buy the services of Sandor Clegane." Ned paused expecting the startled looks. "Please let me explain my motivations," he pleaded. "We need someone with his skills. I know he has the appearance of a rough uncouth guy. I have reason to believe that he is a seasoned fighter not afraid to kill if necessary, but one with his heart in the right place and fiercely protective of the weak. I am convinced that he can be persuaded to help the younger half-brother of the murdered royal children. He still is one of the few ones who openly objects when the subject is discussed, a fact which endears him to me for obvious reasons. I am confident that with the right approach we can get him to swear his sword to our cause. And once does that, we can be assured of his unwavering loyalty. That's the kind of man Sandor Clegane really is!"
  
  "My third candidate is Ser Barristan Selmy. This will require an even subtler approach. If he knew that Prince Rhaegar's son lived, he would want to protect him. I am convinced that if he had known of the boy's existence from the start he would never have sworn his oath to Robert Baratheon. However, as matters stand now, he would need to break this oath to come over to our side. Knowing Ser Barristan, he will not find a way to out, not without compromising his honour. I fear that he will not be able to find a satisfying solution on his own. Here I would like your input." Eddard Stark addressed Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur. "You were his brothers and know him better than me. What do you think of my suggestion to ease him into it? He would not need to leave Robert Baratheon's service immediately. He could be our eyes and ears in King's Landing at first. That way, he would need not cause any direct harm to the Baratheon reign. Just bring us some information. Do you think one of you could get him to agree to that?"
  
  Ser Arthur was deep in thought. He looked over to Ser Gerold and suggested hesitantly. "I would start with cryptic messages waking his conscience. Then one of us could meet him incognito in a tavern he sometimes frequents in Fleabottom. We can then assess his reaction to knowing one of us is alive for a few days to see whether he will leak that information to the small council. It will give us a clue on how best to proceed next. My guess is", Ser Arthur exchanged another look with Ser Gerold before continuing, "I guess that he will need some time to come to terms with the situation. He will lament that he was the one being stuck on the Trident and will deeply regret swearing an oath to King Robert on the spot. But in the end, I am confident that he will decide to support Rhaegar's son. He cannot hold King Robert in high esteem." Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold agreed on that last part. Howland saw them exchange reassuring glances.
  
  Lord Reed interrupted. "Lord Stark, have you considered Varys as a potential spy for us in King's Landing? I have told you before that my premonitions favour him. They tell me that convincing him that our King will be a much better ruler for the realm, and a true protector of the weak would get him on board. This could free up Ser Barristan. He could disappear from King's Landing and either join us or travel to Essos to oversee Daenerys Targaryen's protection. The man would be a vast deal happier."
  
  Lord Stark seemed to mull this over. The others also were unsure whether it was safe to trust Lord Varys. Lord Reed gave in for now. "Just consider it a possibility and we can talk about it again some time." He addressed Lord Stark. "Did you have any more candidates?"
  
  Ned looked relieved he needn't discuss Lord Varys further and finish off his list of candidates.
  
  "Lastly", he raised his voice, "and this will be my weirdest suggestion to date, we should consider contacting Prince Oberyn of House Martell."
  
  Everyone stared at Lord Stark, not believing their ears. Even Howland had not seen this coming.
  
  "Are you serious, Lord Stark?" He was the first one to find his speech. The others were still staring at the Warden of the North with their mouths wide open. "Jon is proof of Rhaegar casting aside Elia, a living reminder of the insult to their house. I thought our scheme to hand the Mountain over to them and to neutralise Tywin Lannister was to buy their neutrality in the coming power struggle but to reveal our secret to them? That's taking an unacceptable risk!" He exclaimed, still a bit chafed that Ned had not supported his suggestion, knowing that his premonitions had been a great asset so far.
  
  The others looked uneasy but Lord Stark remained unperturbed. "I am not talking about informing Dorne or Prince Doran. I only meant the Red Viper. We all know he is a rebel at heart and a free spirit. Chances are that he will love being in on something this huge and keep it a secret from Prince Doran. I also know that he resents the passive approach Doran Martell always chooses. Prince Oberyn loves to act, to stir things up. My guess is that he will relish the opportunity to prove to his brother that being impetuous can at times harvest great results. Of course, we will only allow him to inform Doran Martell when everything is about to be brought out in the open.
  
  As for his possible animosity towards a child of Rhaegar with Lyanna, I trust Jon to solve that problem. He will charm Oberyn into becoming friends with him. The Red Viper will not know what hit him. Besides, I also put my trust in the fact that he is a sucker for lost causes. To aid another possible victim of the King that condoned butchering his kin, could have some appeal to him. Jon can't help who his mother is and he would have been a half-brother to Oberyn's niece and nephew."
  
  Ned took a deep breath before sharing his final arguments. "Over the past few years, Benjen has been informing us of Prince Oberyn's travels. Dorne desperately wants to find out what happened to Tywin Lannister and they still do not know who sent the Mountain to them. Perhaps they are starting to suspect the North, but they are still none the wiser as to our motives. I believe Prince Oberyn will be relieved to finally find a clue and will be amenable to keep things from his brother for now. Still, I suggest we get him to visit either here or at the Driftmark and let Jon cross his path."
  
  Lord Stark paused. Howland surmised that his liege lord had just come up with a new idea and was considering it. When Ned resumed it looked like he was thinking out loud. "The Driftmark might be better. That would arouse less suspicion or at least not implicate the North directly. Perhaps we should plan to send Jon back there for an extended stay. The Celtigar widow will be glad to see her foster-grandchild again."
  
  Ned glanced in the direction of the two knights. "What do you think about organising a visit to the Driftmark for Jon? My brother Benjen could accompany you as well." He didn't wait for a response. "We will arrange an accidental meeting between Prince Oberyn and Jon. Let the boy work his magic. Afterwards, someone can start throwing bones at the Red Viper, remain subtle at first and scrutinize his reaction. Before we tell him anything vital, we will ask for his word of honour. If we still have doubts, we can delay a few moons to see if he tells anyone the few things he learned. Only if we deem his behaviour encouraging enough will we proceed with our plan to reveal who Jon really is. At least that is my proposal."
  
  Lord Manderly broke the silence that had followed Lord Stark's words. "We all know Prince Oberyn is fiercely loyal to Dorne. Dorne can hardly be called a part of the Seven Kingdoms. Why would he pick our side and not prefer to keep the status quo?"
  
  "We wouldn't ask him to." Eddard Stark immediately retorted. "We would guarantee him a political status quo for Dorne."
  
  Ser Gerold immediately protested. "Are we entitled to make promises of such political importance? Isn't that for our King to decide? Shouldn't we try and postpone such negotiations until he can be part of them? He should have a chance to offer or refuse such an important commitment himself!" Ser Gerold voice had grown louder at the end. He was rather passionate about this.
  
  Benjen Starke spoke up. "He has a point there, brother. How about we all sleep on it and revisit this issue after we have considered the pros and cons. It is only fair, Ned. You probably have been sitting on this for months. Let us first wrap our heads around this before we put it to a vote." He offered his brother a hesitant smile, a wordless excuse for not choosing his side automatically. "Give us at least a little time to do the same," he concluded.
  
  Howland saw Ned slumping back into his chair and sip from his ale in silence after everyone agreed with Benjen Stark. The crannogman decided to intervene. "Perhaps it is time to take a short break and get some fresh air. We could reconvene here afterwards."
  
  That suggestion was met with enthusiasm and everyone moved outdoors.
  
  Howland Reed followed Lord Stark in silence for a while. When they were completely alone, he walked over to a fallen tree in a small clearing. The trunk offered the only opportunity to sit down without dirtying their clothes. The two friends sat down, leaving some space between them.
  
  "How are the children, Ned?" Howland asked looking sideways at Ned. It was the first subject he could come up with that was likely to get his friend to relax.
  
  "They are all doing fine and getting along. Robb likes to train more than to study. But then, he is a boy." Ned smiled, images of his children popping up in his head. "Sansa is a miniature lady. Only five and she copies everything Cat does. She makes this perfect little curtsy when she greets people. I already told you she used to playact being Arya instead of using a doll? Well, lately Arya has started to rebel against that. Mind you, she's just turned three. I look at Arya and I am reminded of Lyanna. That little girl is the first of my children that has the Stark look. Now that I come to think of it, she resembles Jon. They both have Lyanna's look. Sometimes witnessing my youngest daughter's antics makes me melancholic."
  
  Howland noticed Ned making an effort to pull himself together. Once again he attempted to redirect Ned's thoughts. "And your youngest, Brandon you called him if I recall correctly?"
  
  The mention of his youngest son put a smile on Ned's face. "He's doing great! He's growing up so fast! He is already taller than Arya despite her being a year older than him. His wet nurse constantly complains that she needs eyes on her back to keep him safe. He is always climbing things. He's very inventive. He climbs up on a chair, moves onto the table and then searches for an opportunity to scamper even higher in an attempt to reach some shelves that are positioned at a dangerous height for a two-year-old because something shiny has caught his eye. He has already had some close calls but is still too young to understand us when we forbid him to do it again. Or perhaps he just doesn't want to listen. "
  
  Ned looked up at Howland. "Never mind my children, how are yours? Meera must be six by now and Jojen, I guess he must be three?"
  
  "That's right. They are doing fine as well. I think Meera has a little crush on Jon. It is so cute to see her trying to get his attention at meals or in between lessons. Jojen on the other hand is a dreamer and keeps mostly to himself which is strange in one so young. But I suppose each child has its personality and we parents need to find the best way to direct them towards a valiant path in life."
  
  Ned nodded in response. "I have four children every one of them is unique. I guess if the Gods are willing to grant me another, it will turn out to be substantially different from his siblings as well."
  
  "Do you believe it is time to head back inside?" Howland inquired, pointing out to Ned that they had been outside for some time. "Look at us, two proud fathers losing track of time, bragging about our children's exploits. Our women should see us like this." Howland chuckled.
  
  "I better head back. We will probably encounter the others before we reach Greywater Watch. But before we do, I would like to ask you to meet Benjen and me in private. Perhaps we could break our fast tomorrow in your solar? I would like your input on some issues I would rather not discuss with this group before I am closer to a solution. I also want to hear whether you think we should bring these topics out in the open or keep our fellow conspirators in the dark a bit longer, going against our initial promise of keeping everyone informed."
  
  Howland had a good idea of what Ned was struggling with. "Of course, Ned, I will make the arrangements. I leave it to you to invite your brother."
  
  Both men rose and walked towards the castle in companionable silence.
  
  Some time later, back in the solar.
  
  "You have all been able to see that Jon is doing well in his swords lessons." Howland Reed was discussing Jon now.
  
  "Indeed," Ser Arthur took over, "Jon knows the basic moves well enough. I admit that he often complains about the lack of a ' real' adversary and is only allowed to swing in the air and hack at straw puppets. But taking the time to teach him the basics is paying off. I can state with absolute certainty that he will have a strong stance and in time will be able to move on instinct so he can concentrate entirely on his opponent in a real fight. Normally I am reluctant to say this of a boy this young, but in my opinion, our King has the potential to become far better than the average sword fighter. He is light on his feet and shows an aptitude to guess the next move of his opponent. I am more than satisfied with his progress. I believe that our young King will amaze us all in later years."
  
  "I think we all agree after seeing him train this morning." Lord Stark agreed readily. Everyone nodded. Benjen looked the proudest of them all.
  
  "Are there any other aspects of his education that we need to discuss today?" Benjen asked.
  
  Ned shook his head. "As far as I can tell, he is doing well on all topics, the Maester finds him a most diligent pupil. He shows interest in politics and already picks up on the nuances of the intricate relationships between the houses. The Maester claims that he never tutored a boy that took to High Valerian with such ease. He is most impressed. I admit now that it was indeed an excellent idea to teach him both languages as soon as he started to speak. The Celtigars did right by him. Another visit there would benefit the community at the Driftmark as well. They will all be happy to see him again."
  
  Ser Gerold was quick to offer his support. "We'll discuss the logistics of a trip to the island between the three of us. I wouldn't take much time to arrange it. I suggest travelling in larger company just to be on the safe side. And Jon will want to bring his dog along as well." Howland, Ned and Benjen shared meaningful looks at the mention of the dog.
  
  "So we can safely conclude that his education is going better than expected and we can move our meeting along. " They had been talking for the better part of the afternoon and Howland was growing tired.
  
  "We still need to discuss how to handle the other Kingdoms and how best to make contact with Viserys and Daenerys in the free cities again. We need to make sure that they have enough funds for the coming moons and remain safe." Ned replied.
  
  Howland relented. "Let us start with the Reach, shall we? When we're done with them, it might be close to suppertime. We will all be here for another day at the very least."
  
  Lord Manderly readily started to list his contacts in that Kingdom and the meeting continued for a little while longer.
  
  Breakfast was a large spread consisting mostly of bread and vegetables. 'These crannogmen take their connection to nature really to all levels of their life.' Benjen scanned the various choices and made his selection. The others were already seated at the table of a secluded chamber in the eastern corner of the keep. The morning sun had finally broken through the fog, its light making the small space more inviting.
  
  "Well, Ned", Howland always addressed his liege lord less formal when in private. They had been through so much together already and were only liege lord and vassal when others were present. "Let's hear it. What did you wish to discuss this morning."
  
  Ned turned towards him with a serious look in his eyes. "Several decisions I am struggling with actually. I've been over them with Benjen a few times but we do not think entirely alike. Let me start with the easier one. Benjen suggests fostering Robb for a few moons, perhaps a year at Greywater Watch with Jon. Let's say after Jon's visit to the Driftmark. He thinks it would be a good idea to cultivate a close bond between the two of them."
  
  "A friendship between the two of them would secure good relations between a re-established royal dynasty and the North. Sort of what used to be the case between King Robert and Ned in previous years, before they fell out." Benjen elaborated.
  
  "As far as King Robert and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are concerned. We have reconciled." Ned intervened. "Everyone saw us fight side by side during the Greyjoy Rebellion. I have also promised him that I would not let too much time pass before paying him a visit in King's Landing. Things get more convoluted all the time. I am not proud of my duplicity with Robert." Ned sighed
  
  Benjen thought it wise to get the conversation back on track. "How about fostering Robb, Howland? Only if you and your wife are amenable to taking on the care of another boy for a short time, of course," he added politely.
  
  "I would be very eager." Howland smiled. I would love to get to know Robb better and I am sure that my wife, Meera, Jojen and last but not least Jon will be elated to have such a nice addition to our little family for a while. I also agree that it is vital to develop a sound relationship between the future King and the future Warden of the North. What else is on your mind, Ned? I do not want to pressure you but our time this morning is limited." Howland knew that the most difficult topic had yet to be raised.
  
  "Well," Ned hesitated.
  
  Benjen chimed in. "It is to do with the magic, warging, dragons. But most of all, Ned and I disagree on keeping Jon in the dark. Maester Aemon and I have discussed this. We are of a mind that Jon needs to know at the beginning of next year at the very latest. If there is a possibility that he can hatch a dragon, he needs to do it soon so it or they have time to grow. Small dragons can make no difference. And more importantly, Maester Aemon is adamant that the younger Jon is when he bonds with a dragon, the better his chance to control it. But we can't give him dragon eggs to hatch if he doesn't know who he is!" Benjen was determined to get Howland on his side. His older brother forced him to remain silent on this subject for too long. Howland Reed would be an invaluable ally. He was a greenseer after all and not as wary of magic as Ned was.
  
  "But what if the eggs are just what they seem to be? What if they are just three beautiful stones?" Ned argued. "Then we will have told Jon much too soon and he will be deprived of his youth. You know him. He will not take this lightly. He will start brooding and he is much too young for all of this." Ned pleaded.
  
  "I humbly disagree," Howland reacted. "He has us to guide him. We will help him carry this burden. He will not be alone. And he will have time to grow into his role. What do you propose to do? Wait until he celebrates his sixteenth nameday and announce: It is time, Jon you are the rightful King, now dress as a Targaryen and go claim your throne." Howland wasn't mincing his words. "We have no right to take his birthright away from him. Controlling Dragons is in his blood. If we keep him away from the eggs for much longer and he hatches them when he comes of age, what would happen if he cannot develop his bond with them sufficiently and learns it is all our fault, that we could have prevented this? He will blame us and we will have to admit we made a mistake. Do not forget that in a few years we will be subservient to him, and I mean this literally!"
  
  Benjen nodded. "Besides, if Maester Aemon tells true, it will be easy to learn whether Jon has the ability to hatch the eggs. According to him, Jon will just have to hold them. His reaction, or better how the eggs will respond to him, will leave us without a doubt. If he is destined to hatch the eggs, he will experience something unique. Maester Aemon didn't want to explain further, this probably is one of the 'for-Targaryen-eyes-only things' a phrase he uses too often to my liking." Benjen added with a frustrating sigh.
  
  "What's keeping us from just letting Jon admire three beautiful stones and get him to hold them between his hands? We could try that and wait to say how it plays out." Howland offered.
  
  "Well for one, the eggs are at the Wall for now." Ned stalled.
  
  "Maester Aemon won't live forever." Benjen countered. He had another argument for his brother. "You were against that warging business as well. Look how that has turned out. He is in total control of several smaller animals already but doesn't mistreat them and has never been caught using this power for the wrong reasons, except for a few small harmless pranks at the beginning. However, I agree with Lord Reed's suggestion. Let us see how he reacts to holding 'three beautiful stones' and go from there." He looked over to his brother not willing to give in.
  
  "I suppose we could try that," Ned reluctantly agreed. But I suggest we wait until Robb returns from his stay at Greywater Watch. Jon can come north with us and travel first to Winterfell for a long overdue visit, then continue his journey to Castle Black where he can meet Maester Aemon and touch those cursed eggs." He watched for the reaction of the other men and was satisfied when it looked that they would agree. ' That will buy me another year at least. Jon first has to visit the Driftmark and then he will spend almost a year with Rob at Greywater Watch. The boy will be a bit older and hopefully be a bit more mature before we dump this burden on him.'
  
  Out loud he added. "Meanwhile, let us be careful when we speak with Jon. He already suspects we are hiding something from him. He has noticed Jojen isn't being followed around by a knight every single moment like he is. I once caught him trying to figure it out what was going on but doing his utmost not to betray that he suspects something so we would grow even more careful around him."
  
  "Well, there is a positive side to that as well, Ned." Howland tried to ease Ned's worry. "You only dwell on all the negatives of a situation. This also proves that Jon has good instincts he picked up on it despite trusting us implicitly. He can think for himself. He will make a good king." Benjen nodded enthusiastically.
  
  "Someone has to look at all the angels." Ned insisted. "But you have a point. Jon will be a much better King for the Seven Kingdoms than the two I have known." A small smile appeared on his face.
  
  Several days later, Howland watched as his fellow conspirators left the grounds of Greywater Watch in a single line. They had said lengthy goodbyes to Jon in the courtyard earlier. Jon had struggled to keep his emotions in check not wanting to be perceived as a little boy any longer. However, he had hugged his uncle Benjen desperately. Benjen had been obliged to carefully separate himself from Jon by untangling his little arms. After that, his Kingsguard had distracted the boy by promising to fight a few bouts with him if he returned to the courtyard.
  
  The last figures navigated a curve in the path and disappeared from view behind the treeline. Howland returned inside. Much had been accomplished these last few days. Much more needed to be agreed upon still. He wondered how things would play out in the next few years. He would pray each day in the Godswood to be granted more green dreams. They needed the help of the Old Gods to detect in a timely manner, the potential harm that their newly cemented decisions might cause. He would focus first on the potential allies, Davos Seaworth, Sandor Clegane, Ser Barristan Selmy and Prince Oberyn, perhaps also Lord Varys. It would not be the first time that Howland had prevented detection using his 'sight'.
  
  Interlude 4: Little birds
  
  The Red Keep, some years into King Robert's reign
  
  Varys suffered a headache. The small council had been a waste of time once more. What more could you expect from that bunch of sycophants constantly striving for the King's favour? He could hardly stand Petyr Baelish. How had that conniving whoremonger wormed its way into the small council? He was no more than an insignificant little lord of a nothing patch of land in the Fingers. Not to mention the elderly Grand Maester Pycelle who hardly contributed anything substantial but was always ready to agree with anything the King or Lord Arryn brought forward.
  
  The agenda of each meeting was the same. They needed more coin, for another feast; another acquisition; more renovations to the Red Keep,... The King and the Queen seemed to be involved in a competition. He who could spend the most in the shortest amount of time won the game.
  
  Only Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships, when he deigned to speak, was known to bring a bit of sense to these ridiculous gatherings. Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws was more absent than present and Lord Mace of House Tyrell was just another empty-headed puppet only here because the Kingdom needed to obtain the vast food resources of the Reach. To grant a seat on the small council to house Tyrell had been the surest way to get all the food they needed for a ridiculously low price.
  
  Several years into King Robert's reign, the crown had already spent millions of gold stags. Gold happily provided by Tywin Lannister until recently. Lord Lannister had been absent for some time now, allegedly taking a trip to Essos. Littlefinger had been charged to find the funds for the upcoming tournament that King Robert wanted to organise. The Master of Coin had just smirked and acquiesced.
  
  The tournament was probably another attempt to lure Lord Eddard Stark to the capital. Not that it would work. King Robert didn't know his best friend all that well. A tournament to most people of the North was just frivolous entertainment, little knights playing at war. The North didn't knight people. Valour was proven in deeds, not with empty titles. What was more, Varys knew that Eddard Stark even if he chose to attend, would never participate in the tournament. No matter what prize was dangled in front of the would-be-champions. No, Eddard Stark kept his prowess with his sword close to his chest. He was not keen to give his enemies any insight on how to beat him. But Varys knew better. He was certain that Lord Stark was one of the most underrated warriors of Westeros. King Robert would have to find another way to reconnect with his former foster brother.
  
  Once more Varys mentally went over all the new songs his little birds had sung. It was truly frustrating. Something was stirring in the Seven Kingdoms and Varys couldn't get a handle on it. Either there were no rumours to explain a disappearance or there were too many conflicting rumours. Varys had started to notice this a year after the Rebellion. Before, he had been able to trust the information that reached him, every rumour bore at least some spark of truth and hardly needed verifying. These last few years, however, there were so many contradictions in the information his little birds brought him, that it was highly likely that his web was compromised. What was worse, lately it had become clear that someone was deliberately provoking him. They rubbed his nose in it. They wanted him to know that they were able to identify his little birds and feed them whatever false information they wanted. They were toying with him, something that Lord Baelish would do. But no, he was sure it was not Baelish. His birds entered places that Litllefinger's whores had no access to.
  
  This was the first time in his career as a spymaster that Varys was at a loss. He had tried everything: doubling the number of his minions, never sending his birds to the same place more than twice, nothing helped. Sometimes he feared that some kind of magic was involved. Something akin to the visions the Lord of Light showed his disciples in the fire?
  
  There were three issues where the sabotage was most prominent, three issues he had yet to resolve.
  
  He had all but given up on the first one. The disappearance almost four years ago of three great knights of Westeros: the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent, member of the Kingsguard. No official report could deny or confirm whether they were at the Trident that fateful day. Their bodies were never found. The greatsword Dawn had disappeared without a trace. A delegation of house Dayne had repeatedly petitioned the King to return the famous sword to their house, believing that the King's forces had confiscated the famous sword after the battle. King Robert had ordered Varys to find the sword but after all this time not the slightest whisper had reached his ears. The sword remained lost.
  
  His birds had sung him several possible scenarios with the kind of details that would have you believe each one of them. Varys suspected none of them was true. Varys had his theory of course. Most likely the three former Kingsguard had fled to Essos when all hope was lost after they had seen their Prince's corpse floating in the Trident. The smallfolk and most nobles didn't believe this theory. They couldn't rhyme such dishonourable behaviour with these knights. The three former Kingsguards were still revered as heroes in Westeros alongside Ser Barristan Selmy. Varys, however, saw no dishonour in going into exile to protect the two remaining siblings of Rhaegar in the free cities. If the missing knights were still alive and were indeed protecting the two remaining Targaryens, they had not forsaken their oath. But if that had been the case, finding them should have been easy. He only had to wait until they showed up at the hiding place of the prince and princess. It had all come to nothing. Nobody resembling their description had tried to contact the royal children or their entourage after all this time. Varys was sure of it. He had a lot of eyes in the free cities but still nothing to show for it.
  
  Varys contemplated the plight of Ser Barristan once more. He often reminisced with the present Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and had concluded that the knight knew nothing of the whereabouts of his three former brothers. The man was clearly miserable and not at all happy with the new additions King Robert had appointed to his Kingsguard. Ser Barristan also seemed wary of Jaime Lannister, the so-called kingslayer. No, Ser Barristan was a dead end as far as his investigation into the disappearance of the three Kingsguard was concerned.
  
  Another unsolved mystery concerned Ser Gregor Clegane. Everybody knew of his trial in Dorne and the barbaric way in which the man was eventually executed. The entire realm had talked of it for moons on end. Most were secretly glad that that monster finally got his due. Very few agreed with the brutal killing of the innocent royal children but even fewer had dared to speak up. Now in the taverns of Fleabottom songs were sung about the downfall of the "baby slayer".
  
  Nobody knew why Ser Gregor Clegane had ventured so close to Dorne. It had been a stupid thing to do. He should have known how fiercely the Dornish hated him. Varys wouldn't shed a tear for Ser Gregor but he worried about what it all could mean. His little birds had brought him too many opposing theories featuring the tall man's fate. Varys was sure that someone had made a calculated move. Someone had handed Ser Gregor Clegane to the Dornish to get Dorne to owe them a favour. But who and whatever for? Varys was still no closer to solving this riddle. He suspected the North to be involved based on the testimony of a few people that had visited Dorne around the time of The Mountain's trial but couldn't fathom why. Besides, how could Lord Stark be involved in something underhanded? It was unthinkable.
  
  When the third mystery struck Westeros, Varys had almost lost it. His pride would have been hurt if even one major issue could not be solved. But these were three major happenings that had the potential to influence the game of thrones to the detriment of the ruling house. How was he to explain the continued absence of Lord Tywin Lannister?
  
  The Warden of the West was a player. He had played the Game of Thrones impeccably until recently. He had power, he was rich, he commanded a large army and curried favour with the King since he all but paid for the King's expenses singlehandedly and was the King's good-father for crying out loud. So to just disappear, and leave the crown vulnerable to its enemies, it made no sense.
  
  And what really worried Varys was that in this case, he had been played by someone or some group of persons more likely and that even before he had known that Lord Lannister was missing. His little birds had never sung as loud. Uncountable sources stated that the Warden had gone on a trading mission to Essos and would soon be back. Many others had overheard that Tywin Lannister had gone on a pilgrimage to find his missing relative Gerion Lannister and had probably also been captured by pirates. A theory too ridiculous to entertain, but then again, his birds only reported back what they heard. Someone had deliberately spread that particular rumour.
  
  A third theory that had popped up in Lannisport was that Tywin had contracted "the old man's disease" and that his mind was gone. He couldn't recognise his own family any longer and was a virtual prisoner at Casterly Rock since the Lannisters didn't want the realm to know that their blood was contaminated with this hereditary disease. Another theory closely resembled the previous one but spoke of the "whore's disease".
  
  Then there were the version of a kidnapping gone wrong. The kidnappers had been too rough during their interrogation. Allegedly, Lord Lannister had died of his wounds before the kidnappers had extracted the necessary information from him to gain entrance to the famed Lannister goldmines. This theory was the most probable in Varys' eyes. It did make sense to kidnap a very rich lord but such an action should leave some kind of trace for Varys to unearth?
  
  But no matter what he had tried, not a sliver of proof could be found to lend credit to this theory so it was more than likely yet another false tale. A few other theories were going around but they were too ridiculous to warrant a second thought. The point of the matter was that nothing actually explained Lord Tywin's continued absence in King's Landing.
  
  Strange as it was, nobody in King's Landing seemed to lose sleep over it. King Robert had never once asked Varys to investigate Lord Lannister whereabouts. Perhaps it was not that strange, seeing that King Robert still had enough gold to whore, drink and feast as much as he pleased. But why was there no reaction from the Lannister Queen or her brother, the Kingslayer? During the last small council session, nobody had mentioned Lord Tywin's name. Everybody seemed happy not to have to deal with the interference of the power-hungry Warden of the West.
  
  The only Lannister that had taken some action was Tyrion, the imp. But Tyrion played it close to his vest and didn't confide in the Master of Whisperers. It had been up to Varys' little birds to find traces of the investigation that Tyrion had conducted. Tyrion suspected foul play but couldn't find anything either.
  
  Varys had considered swallowing his pride and ask Petyr Baelish, but in the end, he couldn't humiliate himself, not even as a last resort. Littlefinger probably would have heard only half of the theories that Varys himself had ferreted out with his vast network anyway.
  
  Better to focus on other matters for now. There was all that movement in the North, boats, glasshouses, Moat Cailin, Benjen Stark's constant travels for the Night's Watch. Then there was Dorne's restlessness. Oberyn Martell had been poking around King's Landing a few times and even exchanged bits of information with Varys. Only nothing had come up that had helped shed a light on his most pressing issues. And last but not least, there was the issue of the new location of the Targaryen children in Essos. If Varys could trust his little birds, the North was involved somehow.
  
  It seemed the North had some vague, unconfirmed connection to all of his open issues. No matter how unlikely each theory was separate, Varys didn't believe in coincidences. He made the mental note to intercept Benjen Stark when the man next visited the capital on official Night's Watch business. He would also reach out to Prince Oberyn. The Prince had mentioned an encounter with the younger Stark sibling.
  
  Varys would bide his time. Patience was his strong suit. In due time, his birds would sing the correct songs or he would get his information from other sources, be it Benjen Stark, Prince Oberyn Martell or if the Gods willed it, another idea might strike him soon. Varys felt a little better and decided to start with tracking Benjen Stark's movements.
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter Jon and Robb foster together at Greywater Watch for some time.
  
  The interlude will be a future glimpse of Daenerys and Jon.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Friends or family
  Chapter 6: Friends or family
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon and Robb become friends.
  
  In the interlude, Dany gets to meet Jon.
  
  Notes:
  
  In the main chapter Jon and Robb are ten going on eleven namedays old.
  
  The interlude is a glimpse of the future
  
  Greywater Watch
  
  Jon got out of bed and looked out of the window. After a sennight with nothing but rain, it was nice to see the sun breaking through the clouds. He smiled. Today would be a great day. Today would be the first day since his new friend's arrival that they would be able to venture outside.
  
  One day, a few moons after Jon's sixth name day the Warden of the North had arrived for an official visit to house Reed at Greywater watch. The first time Jon saw Lord Eddard Stark, Jon had been training in the yard. His obligatory lesson had just finished but Jon was still repeating the moves he had learned. Lord Stark had startled him when he had interrupted Jon's movements. He had given him some pointers to ameliorate his stance.
  
  Jon had been struck mute by the commanding presence of the man. To him, the Lord of Winterfell looked larger than life. However Lord Stark had been patient and kind to Jon. After a few moments, Jon had been able to stammer a greeting and a thank you.
  
  This was the start of their strange relationship. The great Lord, whose visit lasted for two sennights that time, would often seek Jon out. He could also be seen talking to Jon's ever-present shadows. After a few days, Jon had shed his shy reluctance and had started to open up.
  
  Jon had found out that Lord Stark was the big brother of his ' Uncle' Benjen. Did that make him kind of an ' uncle ' to him as well? Was that why he wants to get to know me? He had wondered about this more than once.
  
  One morning shortly after breaking their fast, Lord Stark had invited Jon for a trip to the Godswood here at Greywater Watch. They had walked side by side, both soaking up the peaceful atmosphere of the sacred place. No words had been necessary. After a while, Lord Stark had invited Jon to sit down against an old oak tree and did the same.
  
  "This must be the finest Godswood in the entire realm," he had told Jon quietly. "The Godswood in Winterfell is impressive as well, but here it feels as if the presence of the Old Gods is stronger. At least that is what I sense deep down." He looked over to his nephew. "Benjen told me you worship the Old Gods as well?"
  
  Jon had simply nodded. As Lord Stark kept eying him expectantly Jon had felt safe to elaborate. "Lord Reed is a very inspiring teacher and when Uncle Benjen is at Greywater Watch he always takes me with him on his visits to the Godswood. He was the one who taught me how to pray initially. Uncle Benjen's Gods are now my Gods. Every time I visit this place I can feel the Gods' welcoming my presence. It feels as if they have accepted me despite my being born in the South."
  
  He had looked over to Lord Stark. "Does that make any sense?"
  
  "It actually makes a lot of sense, Jon. I am glad to see you have embraced the Old Gods. I hope they can help you as they do me. There is no place like a Godswood to help you clear your mind. Working through your problems is easier if you can focus. I've solved many a dilemma during my prayers in the Godswood."
  
  Jon had been amazed that the Warden of the North had opened up to him like this. It had been the first time that he saw a vulnerable side to the man. Jon had always looked up to this formidable Lord ruling a large Kingdom never imagining that the Warden of the North struggled with things. He knew Uncle Benjen admired his older brother.
  
  "Tell me about your lessons. Can you tell me what your favourite topics are? Are there things you are having difficulty with?" he had heard Lord Stark ask.
  
  "I'm learning all kind of things. Most of them I like. I greatly enjoyed learning the names of the great houses of the Crownlands, their sigils, their words, customs and their alliances. I loved to boast to the Maester how I could recite them all by heart. But then he came up with more. He makes me learn about all the big and minor houses of the entire realm and the Stepstones until I think my head will burst." Jon had realised he had been whining and had tried to change his tone.
  
  "I think I am good with languages. I adore my physical education although I would like to learn to fight for real. I would prefer to spend more time on that instead of being stuck inside for another lesson with the Maester. He can be boring."
  
  "Lessons cannot help but be boring sometimes. But you should remind yourself that they are necessary. Knowledge is power, you know. I am still learning new things every day, mostly through experience now, which is a lot less tedious than a lesson from a Maester but I am learning all the same.
  
  Facts that seem dull to you now, may come in handy later, for instance during trade negotiations or settling disputes. I sometimes have to negotiate marriage alliances for the sons and daughters of my bannermen and am grateful for every detail I know about their history. Knowledge also helps me keep the North prosper and the people well-fed." Lord Stark had smiled at the boy. "I hope I am not the one who is boring you now?"
  
  Jon had blushed. "No, my Lord, I am grateful for your advice."
  
  In reality, he had soaked up every word. As of that moment, he had a new resolution. He would make the most of the education and opportunities he was offered. He realised that, although life seemingly had dealt him a bad card when you considered the fact that he had been orphaned only days after he was born, he had also been really lucky to have been assigned such a great support system.
  
  That grateful feeling had diminished a bit however when Lord Stark had told him about his son and daughters, Jon had grown quiet. Six-year-old Jon had been sad to see Lord Eddard Stark leave.
  
  ' In the end, it had taken more than four years before Lord Eddard Stark sent Robb to him', Jon thought a little aggrieved. 'He could have sent him sooner. '
  
  The two ten-year-olds had hit it off immediately and had become inseparable from the very first day. Being almost the same age, they challenged each other. Robb was adequately versed in his knowledge of the great houses of Westeros. Jon however could boast a better grasp of foreign languages.
  
  Robb had been surprised that Jon was even taught the old tongue of the North. Very few people of the North knew that that language still existed. And when Jon started to speak fluently in High Valyrian, Robb had had to confess that he only knew a few words. Later, in the bedroom they shared, Jon had shyly related that he could write that language as well, showing his new friend the letters that he wrote once a moon to a Maester of the Night's Watch who was more proficient at correcting them than his teacher at Greywater Watch.
  
  Robb being the elder by two moons often played this as his trump card during games. "The elder must always start," being one of his examples. Robb had more experience playing children's game and used all kind of tricks Jon had not known possible to evade Jon while playing tag.
  
  However when Robb used his ' I'm the eldest' -card during their indoor lessons, he wasn't as successful. Jon smiled thinking back on a hilarious mistake Robb had made yesterday during a geography lesson. Jon could teach Robb a thing or two about geography if he so wished. Robb either didn't have a good teacher at Winterfell or hadn't paid enough attention. Jon suspected the latter since his new friend seemed intelligent enough.
  
  Robb told him plenty about his home, Winterfell. Jon had heard about the castle before of course, mostly from ' Uncle ' Benjen. However, Robb told about Winterfell from the point of view of a young boy and Jon was riveted by his stories.
  
  "You know, they all call me ' my Lord' . Even if they are at least three times as old as me. Some even bow, although it will be ages before I will ever become their Lord. The servants almost trip over themselves to be the one who can open the door for me, or be best placed to serve me my food. Even the Lords of the North always go out of their way to be amicable."
  
  Robb had smiled at Jon. "And all the while I am trying not to show how intimidated I am by them while they are presenting their cases when Father is absent."
  
  "You're hearing their cases?" Jon's eyes had asked wide-eyed.
  
  "Well, they only bring the small issues forth when Father is not there. Also, Master Luwin and Mother flank me and I hardly have to say a word. As I said, I try not to piss my pants." Both of them had giggled.
  
  Robb had entertained Jon with tales of his siblings, how different Arya and Sansa were, how he was glad that his youngest sibling had been a boy although it would be a long time before they could spar together, but that he looked forward to teaching him all he knew once this brother was old enough. He had also described the snow and the hot spring in the Godswood at Winterfell. Robb seemed not to mind answering Jon's never-ending stream of questions.
  
  Jon did envy Robb. Not only was Robb's father someone important, but Robb was also a real nephew of Jon's ' Uncle ' Benjen, and not an adopted one as Benjen Stark and Jon had both agreed to call it. Robb also had two sisters, a little brother and a mother. Robb's mother had lived through four childbeds already. Jon's mother, however... Jon redirected his thoughts. No use dwelling on this, better enjoy the change of weather. He started to dress in clothes fit for playing and sparring outside.
  
  Jon couldn't help dwelling some more on the difference between his and Robb's life. Greywater Watch was the only place Jon could call home even as it wasn't, not really. Lord Reed did his best to act like a father to him. He treated Jon kindly, always made time after supper to discuss his day with him. Several lessons were given by Lord Reed personally. But he wasn't family, not really.
  
  Lord Reed's daughter, well she was a girl and when she was in his company she demanded his attention constantly. Jon indulged her but her girly games were not his cup of tea and his schedule didn't afford him much time to interact with the girl anyway. Her brother, Jojen was only five and a rather peculiar child. Jon preferred the outdoors, Jojen, on the other hand, preferred to stay indoors doing... Actually, Jon didn't know what the boy did all day. He mostly saw him during meals.
  
  'I am not entitled to be ungrateful', Jon reprimanded himself, 'I have a good life here, even if it sometimes can be a bit lonely. Besides my three shadows can be entertaining company if I get them to loosen up and I mustn't forget Max.'
  
  In the courtyard where they would shortly start their first real sparring session, the boys were putting on their armour that consisted of pieces of boiled leather awkwardly fitted to match their slender bodies. Due to a spell of bad weather, they had been limited to indoor physical exercises that enhanced muscular strength and endurance. They had noticed they had been taught different drills in the past. Robb had shown Jon some typical Northern fighting moves which looked a bit rough to Jon but he could see how they could make a strike more powerful. Jon guessed their fighting styles would be rather different as well and couldn't wait to spar with Robb if they were allowed. He hoped so!
  
  "Be glad it is Ser Oswell today," Jon informed Robb, "Ser Arthur would surely take your sword away and work on your stance for an entire training session."
  
  "There is nothing wrong with my stance!" Robb protested.
  
  "I didn't say there was," Jon placated his friend. "It is just Ser Arthur's way. You will find out soon enough. And then you cannot say I didn't warn you. Ser Arthur is a perfectionist."
  
  "Ready boys?" Ser Oswell had entered the courtyard unnoticed while the boys were enjoying each other's company. He smiled when he noticed them startle. 'It will be good for my King to have a boy his age to keep him company for a time,' he thought. 'Robb seems like a nice lad.' The knight adopted a stern expression taking on the role of a strict teacher.
  
  "Well, where are your training swords? Don't just stand there idle! Show me what you have learned so far!" He addressed his King's cousin. "Robb Stark, you go first! I will attack you from the right a few times and then swing at your left. Let me see how well you can defend yourself."
  
  Out of the corner of his eyes, Ser Oswell noticed Jon was studying Robb's movements keenly taking in the boy's answer to Ser Oswell's attacks. He was proud of his King. Such observations would help him since Robb Stark had been taught a completely different fighting style.
  
  Jon moved more during fights, often deflecting strikes totally or meeting the thrusts when they were losing momentum. He also knew how to use an opponent's power against him making him lose balance. Jon had learned to be patient and wait for an opening. Robb on the other hand liked to meet his opponent's strikes head-on throwing his body weight forward. The boy tried to switch from defence to attack every time he parried.
  
  "Your turn, Jon!" Ser Oswell had gone easy on Robb, but still, the boy was sweating profusely and it was time to allow him a moment of respite. "You need to conserve your energy in a fight, Robb Stark. Rest up while I'll give Jon his warming up session. You will want to be rested when you face him next."
  
  Ser Oswell repeated the same exercises with Jon but made subtle changes in his angles not striking the same places over and over as he had done with Robb. ' We taught our King well', he couldn't help think to himself. 'Well it would be a shame if a knight of the Kingsguard wouldn't achieve a better result than a master-at-arms of a northern keep, but I am glad to see it confirmed all the same.'
  
  "Both of you can take a short break and don't forget to drink a cup of water. When we resume you will face each other. Now dismissed!" Ser Oswell ordered. He was enjoying himself. He knew that Ser Gerold was watching the entire training session from a window higher up. Ser Arthur would be very disappointed to learn that he wasn't here to witness the first time their protégé took on a trained opponent of similar age and see how their combined efforts over the years had already made their protégé substantially superior to his peers.
  
  The boys were eager to end their break so they could spar. They both took their starting position before Ser Oswell told them to. To their credit, both boys waited for the knight to give the starting signal.
  
  Even though Jon had paid close attention during Robb's earlier bout with Ser Oswell, the knight saw Jon was forced to take a step back as the other boy's initial strike hit him at full strength. Jon almost tripped and could only deflect the strike in the nick of time. He quickly adjusted his stance and successfully countered Robb's subsequent attacks, often simply evading them. Robb clearly frustrated by this but still filled with confidence due to the success of his first big strike, overextended a swing and Jon had his opening. His sword point firmly fixed in Robb's armpit he called out. "Yield".
  
  He saw Robb's look of surprise. It was clear the boy never had been defeated in less than fifteen strikes by someone his age. His King, kind as always, made a valid attempt to soften the blow.
  
  "Let's try again, I simply got lucky." And both boys resumed their starting positions.
  
  "Robb Stark, you don't need to put all your strength into each strike to hurt your opponent. How much strength you use at the time is less important than the spot you hit. Study your opponent. Search for his weakness," Ser Oswell encouraged Robb.
  
  Robb nodded, a determined look appeared on his face. This time the boys circled each other for a bit. Robb had decided to let Jon make the first move. Jon executed a combination of strikes that Ser Arthur had taught him a moon ago. He had made Jon repeat them at least a hundred times until the lad's muscles were no longer able to lift a sword only to have him repeat the same exercise the next day.
  
  As was to be expected, Robb had trouble with the speed of Jon's strikes. Ser Oswell immediately spotted the moment his King decided to hold back. It was cleat that Jon didn't want to humble his new friend more than necessary. His King wouldn't allow his friend to win, but he made a valiant effort to lengthen the bout. Jon had made slight adjustments to his initial battle plan and let Robb push him into defence without being too obvious.
  
  Ser Oswell forced himself to quit studying Jon's movement and switched his attention to Robb Stark, to detect which piece of advice would have the most immediate effect. It wouldn't do to change the lad's northern fighting style that relied mostly on strength, but he could give Robb a few pointers so the boy could avoid giving his opponent so many openings and he could certainly give him tips on how to conserve energy.
  
  Jon and Robb were seated on a bench in the corner of the courtyard. The training session was over and they were exhausted and sweaty. Robb looked at Jon. "You weren't kidding when you said they like to drill you to the point of breaking, or when you told me how they make you repeat the same moves over and over again. I don't think I have ever been this weary."
  
  He studied the younger boy closely and continued. "You're lucky to have such a skilled teacher. And you claim you have three?" Robb shook his head. "I thought you were too skinny to hurt me much, but the speed of your swings is amazing. I hope they can teach me how to do that."
  
  "Do you realise that I have never ever lost to another boy in less than fifteen strokes at Winterfell? Not even to Theon Greyjoy and he is more than a year older than me! I always believed I was a natural at swordplay." Robb tried his best not to be a sore loser.
  
  "You are a good fighter Robb. I just fight a little differently. You first have to analyse how your opponent fights and then figure out how to beat him. You will do better in a few days. Besides, you will have the benefit of my teachers for a few moons and when you return to Winterfell you can soundly beat this Theon Greyjoy, perhaps even in under fifteen strokes." Jon teasingly nudged Robb's shoulder. "Who is this Theon by the way? You haven't mentioned him before."
  
  "Theon Greyjoy is a year older than us. He arrived at Winterfell a few moons before I left and will live with us for a few years. My father had to take him in on King Robert's orders. His family was defeated in the Greyjoy Rebellion and he stays with us to ensure that his father will not attack again." Robb explained
  
  "So he is an Ironborn, a Kraken?" Jon's eyes were wide as saucers now. "Is he civilized enough to live with you? I was taught that the Ironborn live the ' Old Way' and only use things they stole."
  
  "Yes, he is a Greyjoy, the only son left of that house." Robb sighed. "Father told us to give him a chance. He said we could teach him our ways. He will not be allowed to steal anything and we will provide him with clothes and other things. But he boasts all of the time. Tells us all kind of things he has already done, even with girls!"
  
  Jon looked at Robb, the shock his cheeks turning red. He kept silent hoping that Robb would tell him more.
  
  "He challenges me at every opportunity. I've already been punished several times for going along with one of his crazy plans. The last time Father become so angry that I believed that his decision to send me to Greywater Watch was some kind of punishment but now I think that I got that wrong." He smiled at Jon. "Being here feels more like a reward to me." He shifted a bit closer to Jon. "I really like spending time with you."
  
  Jon blushed and shyly returned Robb's smile. "I really like spending time with you too, Robb. You are my best friend even if," he paused and gave Robb a shy glance, "even if you are my only friend that is not an adult." A comfortable silence ensued.
  
  "You know," Robb was the one to start talking again, "I overheard Lord Reed as he was talking to the Maester. They were discussing the date of my return Winterfell. But you will want to know what they said after that?" Robb whispered mysteriously. He couldn't wait to tell Jon but enjoyed the moment of suspense he had created.
  
  "You have to go back earlier than planned?" Jon ask sounding defeated.
  
  "No! If anything, I am staying longer! But they were talking about you accompanying me to Winterfell. Father invited you, Jon!" Robb's enthusiasm was contagious.
  
  Jon lightened up and studied Robb to see whether he was serious. "Really? I get to see Winterfell? Are you positive that is what you heard? I will have a chance to meet your brother and your sisters?" Jon paused, then he all but shouted, "Will Uncle Benjen be there?"
  
  Robb grinned. "Of course, I am sure. They were not suggesting it, they were talking logistics. What to take, who would accompany you." Robb paused for a moment and frowned "You know, you are right. You are never allowed to go anywhere alone, not here and certainly not to Winterfell." Robb threw a pointed look in Ser Gerold's direction. The knight was sitting in the opposite corner of the courtyard, not actually listening to the boys but keeping an eye on them all the same.
  
  "I told you so," Jon answered quietly, "Sometimes I make up stories. For instance, I imagine that I am some rich orphan, the son from a noble man from Essos who fled to Westeros and these three knights were hired to keep me safe from assassins."
  
  "Kind of like the two Targaryens living in the free cities?" Robb asked.
  
  "Kind of, but the other way around, I guess." Jon agreed. "What's more," his voice had dropped to a whisper, "Can you keep a secret?"
  
  Robb nodded, he was intrigued by Jon's secretive behaviour.
  
  Jon whispered insistently. "I mean not tell anyone, not even your parents, not your siblings, certainly not the Kraken. This is important, Robb. You have to solemnly promise me before I can reveal it."
  
  Robb with a serious but sincere expression complied. "I will vow on my Stark honour and swear by the old Gods not to reveal a single thing you do not want me to."
  
  Jon smiled at the freely given oath of his friend. "I have a dog," Jon started his explanation.
  
  Robb looked confused. "So have I, several actually."
  
  "I am not done yet," Jon replied. "I hope you will believe me. So, I have this dog, I named him Max. Well, Max and I sort of bonded."
  
  Robb frowned "Bonded?"
  
  "Bonded," Jon confirmed. "I can see through his eyes, I can even tell him what to do."
  
  "My dog loves me as well and obeys my commands." Robb was quick to spell out. "Hold on! What do you mean when you claim that you can see through his eyes?!"
  
  Jon gave Robb a pertinent look. "For the Godssake! Keep your voice down! "When Robb nodded anxiously Jon continued. "I mean exactly that. I can see what he sees." Jon closed his eyes for a moment. "At the moment Max is in the corridor leading to the kitchen. Shall I ask him to go inside and see what's for dinner?"
  
  "That won't convince me," Robb pointed out. "Someone could have told you what we're going to eat tonight."
  
  Jon pondered the issue. "Well, I can ask him to come out here and threaten to piss on your pants? Don't worry. He will only lift his leg and do nothing more but bark and start licking your boots."
  
  "That's also a command a dog can learn." Now Robb fell silent, trying to come up with an impossible assignment. "Could you ask him to go to our bedroom We left the door open this morning so he should be able to enter. Order him to retrieve my blue pants. They should still be on the chair. If he can bring them here without you getting up from this bench, then I will believe you. Are you sure you can do that, Jon?"
  
  "I'm positive. Now let me concentrate." Jon turned sideways so Robb couldn't see his eyes and didn't move for some time. Suddenly a small dog ran toward them with something blue dragging over the ground.
  
  Ser Gerold studied Jon sternly. "Jon, come over here for a second."
  
  Jon obeyed leaving Max with Robb so they could get acquainted.
  
  "Did you just do what I think you did?" Ser Gerold lifted his brow and stared accusingly at Jon.
  
  "I did, Ser," Jon said a tad intimidated. "I discussed Max with Lord Reed since Robb will be living here for a few moons and I will still need to perform my mental exercises. Lord Reed decided it was better to tell Robb than to let him find out without us knowing. This way I could tell him upfront how important it was that he would tell no one about it. Besides, Lord Reed said you can trust a Stark when he gives his word. And I did just that. Robb even swore upon his Stark honour." Jon looked a little smug as he finished his explanation.
  
  "You could have given me a heads up, lad" Ser Gerold grumbled. "Well, I guess I should be grateful you didn't prove it by letting him wet my boots."
  
  Jon grinned, all tension between them resolved. "You know, I almost did," he teased and then ran away before the knight could retaliate.
  
  When Jon returned to the bench where Robb was still playing with Max, Robb stated quietly.
  
  "I believe you and you can rest assured, I will tell no one. It is amazing though. Can you explain this some more later this evening in our bedroom before we go to sleep? I bet there is more to this story."
  
  Jon was relieved Robb was still as friendly as before he had shown him proof of his 'weirdness'. "I shall do my best to answer your questions. I don't know if I would call it a story though."
  
  Robb satisfied with that answer jumped up from the bench. "Come on Jon," he ordered, loud enough for Ser Gerold to hear him. "Let's head inside and write a message to Uncle Benjen. We shall write that you are invited to Winterfell and will be coming with me when my stay here is over. I'm sure he will do his best to be there. But he needs to be forewarned. We can't leave it to chance!"
  
  "Great idea Robb! Let's go!" Jon put his arm over Robb's shoulder and the two boys headed inside. Ser Gerold smiled as he left the courtyard in pursuit of the boys. It was nice to see his King enjoy himself.
  
  Interlude 5: How Dany met Jon
  
  Future glimpse
  
  Daenerys was very happy, anxious, nervous perhaps, but very happy. A messenger had just returned from the docks. His ship had arrived. Soon Aegon would be here. She would finally get to meet her nephew in person. She called her Septa to join her in the sitting room and instructed the servants to prepare refreshments.
  
  Daenerys was a princess, be it an exiled princess. She was born on Dragonstone in Westeros but had been whisked away by Targaryen loyalists after her family lost the Iron Throne at the end of Robert's Rebellion. Her entire life she had been living in Pentos, hiding from the Baratheons, the house that now ruled the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Her earliest memories were of a modest house in Pentos with a red door. She and her brother had lived there with two protectors and a Septa, named Moelle. The latter had become more of a companion and teacher than a religious guide. Daenerys had studied the Seven-Pointed Star with her but had not been impressed by these so-called Gods. Life in that small house had been boring. They had hardly enough coin and at the end, Ser Darry their main protector had been half-blind and ailing.
  
  But then, Daenerys could clearly remember the very moment that things had changed for the better. First, Ser Darry had received regular visits of the same two men. Not long after, they had moved into a large mansion with high walls and a sturdy looking iron gate. Guards and servants had been hired. For the first time in a long while, Daenerys had received new gowns and even a few toys. And when the inevitable happened and Ser Darry succumbed to his illness, his replacement had already been there for more than a year. Ser Jorah Mormont was now the head of their guard. He had quickly become a trusted advisor and often told her stories about the Northern Kingdom in Westeros where he had grown up.
  
  If not for her brother falling ill, Daenerys would have been truly happy. Viserys was six years older than her and constantly talked about moving back to Westeros. He had told her all about Robert's Rebellion and the ' usurper' as he called the current King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had told her the same things over and over again. His account had gotten more fanatical with every rendition. But then there came a time that her brother was constantly delirious because of the high fever that raged through his body.
  
  One day she came upon him as he was burning his hand with the flame of a candle. He had raved like a madman about dragons being resistant to fire and the only way to get him to calm down was to drug him with a substantial amount of milk of the poppy. It had been the only way the Maester could get near enough to treat his burns. Viserys had never again had a lucid moment after that.
  
  The Maester had kept him sedated day and night. Each attempt to wean him off the medication and allow him to wake up had resulted in Viserys raving like a madman and looking for a means to burn himself. He had been obsessed with fire. This went on for many moons until one day, his heart, weakened by the constant drugging and inactivity, had given out.
  
  Daenerys could remember that day as if it had been yesterday. She was truly alone in the world now. She had been depressed until the letter had come. Daenerys had been twelve at the time. The letter had been addressed to her, written by a boy who was twelve and claimed a kinship with her. He assured her that she was not alone in the world. He was her nephew and they also had an elderly relative living at the Wall, a certain Maester Aemon, Aemon Targaryen. The boy's letter was accompanied by a letter from Maester Aemon.
  
  Her nephew's first communication was brought to her by a trusted messenger. Aegon had included an extra sheet that described a code they could use to hide the real content of their future correspondence. Since he knew that she was fluent in High Valyrian, he had used that fact to devise a complicated code she should use to encrypt their letters.
  
  They would always combine two sentences. Write the first sentence in High Valyrian, the second sentence in the common tongue. Then they would alter each word by writing it backwards, for example 'word' became 'drow'. The next step was mixing the first and the second sentences combining them into one sentence, keeping the words in the right order, alternating words from each sentence: the first word of the first sentence, the first word of the second sentence, then the second word of the first sentence, and so on. Daenerys thought it was a brilliant idea and she had fun encoding her correspondence like that.
  
  Ever since then messages had been exchanged regularly between the two of them. Occasionally she would also receive a short missive from Maester Aemon. Daenerys learned that Aegon lived in Westeros and used a false name: 'Jon Celtigar' . He was born Aegon Targaryen and was the son of her brother Crown Prince Rhaegar and the Lady Lyanna of House Stark. According to Aegon, her brother had been wrong, the members of House Starks were not 'usurpers' bent on destroying Targaryens.
  
  Only King Robert and the members of House Lannister were looking for her and would kill her if they got the chance. Fortunately, they didn't know about Aegon's existence yet. Aegon was half Targaryen and half Stark and House Stark had been instrumental in keeping him safe. She also learned that the people who protected Aegon were also the ones that had been sending the coin to Pentos. They had always kept a close eye on her and Viserys. All the servants and guards that had joined them after her fifth name day had been hired by them. Aegon further claimed that his entourage had thwarted several attempts on her life but in the same paragraph he had reassured her that they were confident she was safe in the mansion she now lived in.
  
  If she still had any doubt left that Aegon was who he claimed to be, she was certain after he told her about his two dragons. Her interest was piqued when he wrote that he owned another dragon egg and hoped that was destined for her. He had explained that he had sensed straight away that two of the eggs were meant for him.
  
  What he had felt exactly or how he had hatched the dragon eggs, he wouldn't put into writing, not even encoded. He promised to tell her if ever the moment came that she needed the information. Ever since reading that letter, she prayed the third egg would respond to her but most frequently she prayed for Aegon to stay safe and would find an opportunity to visit her. Now that she had something to look forward to, she could remain patient. For the first time since the death of her brother, she had felt a sense of belonging again. She was not the last Targaryen.
  
  Gradually the tone of the letters changed, Aegon sounded more confident no longer a boy, but a young man. What he told her were no longer vague ideas. Aegon started to inform her of plans to overthrow the Baratheon King and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. To do so safely, they had enhanced their coded messages by substituting names and sensitive nouns by aliases.
  
  Unlike Viserys' ramblings, her nephew's plans made sense. He already had substantial support and had several plans in motion to gather even more allies. Besides he had dragons who were healthy and growing constantly.
  
  Then the letter arrived announcing that he intended to sail to Pentos. He had expressed how much he looked forward to meeting her in person. He had promised to be there within six moons if not earlier. And so it had happened. A few sennights before her sixteenth name day, Aegon's ship docked in the Bay of Pentos.
  
  And now she sat here in her sitting room, softly talking with Moelle, wishing time would move faster. She forced herself to remain seated and not to look out of the window too often. But when she heard the heavy iron gates open, she jumped up and ran to the large window. She was in time to see three men on horseback enter the courtyard and dismount. They didn't linger but took big strides to reach the front door. Next thing she knew, a servant led him into the room.
  
  Daenerys' heartbeat so loudly, she wondered if her Septa could hear it. A young man entered and his dark eyes darted in all directions. He stilled when they fell on her as she stood stiffly beside her Septa. Another man followed him inside, scanned the room and took up position next to the door. 'Of course, a Targaryen Prince would not go anywhere without a guard.'
  
  He bowed and she made a formal curtsy. Nobody had spoken a single word yet.
  
  Daenerys knew from his letters that he didn't have the Targaryen colouring but the young man who stood before her was different from the image she had dreamed up after she had read his first letters. He had no resemblance whatsoever to her or Viserys. He also didn't look like the few Westerosi she had encountered before.
  
  At first glance, he was a handsome young man, strong, lean, clean-shaven, a fair face surrounded by cute dark curls. He seemed all that she had hoped for, all that she had expected even. But what struck her the most was his personality. Although he had been nervous the first few seconds, the way he held himself now was not the posture of a boy. Before her stood a man, a confident young man. At least that was her first impression.
  
  When her eyes met his warm dark eyes, matching the description of the Stark grey she had been told about, she had been struck with a sense of belonging. She knew instantly that he was her kin. She could drown in these sensitive, intelligent orbs that were staring warmly back at her.
  
  Moelle smiled indulgently and did the honours. "My Lord, may I present to you Princess Daenerys Targaryen of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella. I am her Septa and go by the name of Moelle."
  
  The young man introduced himself. "Prince Aegon also of House Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Your nephew greets you, aunt. Greetings to you too septa Moelle." His eyes, however, never left her face and the welcoming smile that lit up his features made him even more handsome.
  
  "Well met, Aegon", she gave him her most welcoming smile. "Please call me Daenerys. We are kin and of similar age. Let us never mention again that I am technically your aunt."
  
  "Thank you, Daenerys. I will do as you ask. And please, call me Jon for now. Nobody calls me Aegon just yet. I would probably look behind me to see whether there is another person in the room called Aegon." His smile grew even wider.
  
  "Please have a seat", Daenerys offered, suddenly remembering that she was the hostess. "I shall call for refreshments."
  
  And Aegon or rather Jon sat down facing her so they could start their first real conversation.
  
  The days had flown by. Her nephew had dedicated a lot of time to her. They had taken lengthy strolls in the gardens. Most of the time they kept their conversation light talking about non-political topics, both making an effort to make the most of this time and get to know each other. Both were grateful to still have a living relative of similar age and how much of a relief it was not to be the last member of such an important house. Jon was glad that the Princess understood instinctively what the dragons meant to him and how he would never endanger than only to seek more power.
  
  During one of their last strolls, Daenerys built up the courage to broach a delicate subject. "Aegon, I mean, Jon, are you considering marriage alliances in Westeros to gain more allies? Are you already promised to someone?"
  
  He blushed adoringly. When he finally started to talk, he sounded nervous. "I have been doing my utmost to avoid consenting to a betrothal and will keep doing this for as long as possible. It is not always easy to say no to my loyal entourage. Don't forget, they are all at least twice my age. My advisors never tire to remind me of the potential brides they find suitable. I always hear them out and promise to consider them. However, I have made it abundantly clear that the final decision lies with me."
  
  As soon as he fell silent, the Prince relaxed and looked at her with that tempting smile that she knew well by now but still cherished as it lit up his serious features. He leaned her way, his mouth approaching her ear. He acted as if he was going to tell her a big secret. "Being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the One True King of Westeros, The Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, He who has Dragons, must come with some perks, don't you think so?" he had said mockingly.
  
  Now the colour rose in her cheeks. Not because of his words, but because of the small puffs of his breath that tickled her ear and made her feel warm inside.
  
  He stayed an entire sennight in Pentos and introduced her to some of his companions. Of course, he travelled with his guards that hopefully in the not too distant future would be referred to as Knights of the Kingsguard but he had also brought some of his friends along.
  
  They seemed a curious mix. There was Edric of House Dayne, the future lord of Starfall, Samwell of House Tarly, a shy be it somewhat overweight young man but a very close friend of the Targaryen Prince, then there was Gendry, a craftsman with an impressive physique. His accent betrayed his low origins but Aegon treated him as the same as he treated his noble companions.
  
  His guards also were a curious mix of personalities. Two of them were former members of the Kingsguard when the Targaryens still ruled Westeros, although if you considered the fact that Jon, or rather Aegon technically was the rightful King, they were still actual members of the Kingsguard. The third one was a large rather ugly looking man with rough manners and an even rougher vocabulary going by the name of Sandor Clegane. Daenerys was surprised to witness the casual manner of Aegon's interactions with the man and how much respect the strong warrior had for the Targaryen Prince. All these observations only heightened her esteem for her nephew.
  
  It was evident that he was the leader of this strange group. It was his birthright of course, but his friends, as well as his guards, clearly worshipped Aegon and he respected them in return and had a pleasant way of interacting with them. Her nephew would make a good sovereign.
  
  All too soon it was time for Aegon to leave. Their goodbye was affectionate. He had enfolded her in his arms and had held on to her for a long time. She had shed a few tears but they were happy, hopeful ones Daenerys had reassured him when he had asked full of concern for her. She had added that now that she had seen him and heard more about his plans, she finally believed she would return to Westeros soon.
  
  And Aegon had promised her. It would take them no longer than a year he had said with certainty. As soon as Dragonstone was freed from Stannis Baratheon, he would send a ship for her. Daenerys had nodded and smiled, even given him a quick peck on his cheek. Not long after he had left.
  
  Daenerys had not lied to him. There had been a few happy tears among the ones she had shed. She looked forward to living in Westeros. She was determined to prepare herself for this new phase of her life. If she had it her way, she would be an asset to her nephew instead of a burden. She would educate herself so she could be an adviser to him, perhaps even help him rule?
  
  Anyway, his considerate gifts would help her in this endeavour. Before Aegon had left, he had brought her two crates filled with books. He had explained that his friend Samwell Tarly had helped him with the selection. He had stressed that she only needed to read those that she was interested in. She needed to believe that these books were gifts only meant to please her and to answer the many questions she had about her homeland, not obligatory lessons. He had gazed in her eyes with such a kind and earnest look that she had no doubted for a moment that he only had the purest intentions and it was a thoughtful gift.
  
  Several tomes contained the history of each of the Seven Kingdoms. Some of them enumerated all the Lords of the great Houses going back hundreds of years. One volume was dedicated to House Stark exclusively and described the known history of the former Kings of Winter going back almost ten thousand years. She had already read a small part of that one and had been riveted by the tale of Brandon the Builder. She couldn't wait to read more.
  
  Then there were books on geography, books on keeping books. She remembered his teasing voice when he had phrased it like that. It was more a guide for the castellan of a keep. Several binders contained religious texts, smaller volumes full of folk tales, songs and poems that were rather popular in Westeros, also scrolls describing customs, clothing, court protocol.
  
  But he had saved the best one for last. She had reverently touched the red leather cover of the large tome that Aegon had carefully laid out on the table before her. Her fingers had followed the raised pattern of the three-headed dragon that was printed on the beautiful brown leather cover. She had been moved beyond words. It had been the first time she had hugged him. She wondered if she could read them all before it was time to go home.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter is the big reveal
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Jon knows something
  Chapter 7: Jon knows something
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon visits Winterfell and hears about his parentage.
  
  Prince Oberyn also learns some things.
  
  Notes :
  
  Rewrote this chapter several times. Hope it doesn't disappoint.
  
  I am aging Edric Dayne up a bit. I just wanted to create more friends for Jon.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon had been enjoying his time at Winterfell. He had been here for two sennights by now and soon they would be heading over to the Wall where he would meet Maester Aemon with whom he had been corresponding for several years now.
  
  Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell had accompanied Jon on this trip. They had let their beards and hair grow out and almost always wore helmets that left little visible of their faces. During meals in the great hall, they took up guard duty and ate in private afterwards. Nobody suspected that they were anything other than two loyal houseguards of Jon Celtigar, an insignificant lord of the Driftmark who had befriended the son of Lord Stark.
  
  Ser Arthur hadn't appreciated being left behind but Ser Gerold had argued that Ser Arthur was the most recognisable of the three of them. They were taking enough risks at it was. Howland Reed, however, had placated Ser Arthur by telling him that the Gods had shown him in several green dreams that the knight's nephew Edric Dayne would someday be of great help to Jon. His premonitions had convinced him that Ser Arthur could inform his closest living relatives that he was alive if he took the necessary precautions.
  
  Ser Arthur had not hesitated and had immediately invited the current lord of Starfall supposedly to meet a lord Velaryon of the Driftmark to discuss possible trade relations. He had picked a location halfway between Starfall and the Driftmark and in due time received the Lord's acceptance. A date in less than two moon's time had been agreed upon. Ser Arthur had let the party leave for Winterfell without complaining, a renewed spring in his steps.
  
  To compensate for the knight they left behind, Ser Gerold had taken on an extra guard and that is how Jon had met Sandor Clegane. It had been an experience. It wasn't because of the burns, although at first, Jon had been self-conscious when he looked straight at Clegane's face. Clegane noticing this had just grumbled that they didn't fucking hurt any longer and Jon had been able to ignore the ugly scars soon after.
  
  Jon was fascinated by the way Clegane talked and acted. Up until he met Clegane he had only met well-mannered knights who treated him with respect. Sandor Clegane was nothing like that. It seemed to Jon that no matter how much Clegane tried to reign in his coarse language while speaking with the twelve-year-old, he always fell back into his crude speech patterns. Sometimes, Jon could also overhear even less censured outburst during conversations between the adults. And although Sandor Clegane was not a very talkative guy, Jon had already learned more curse words in these last few moons than in his entire existence.
  
  Perhaps was because Sandor Clegane was so different from everyone else, Jon had taken a liking to the tall man. Clegane didn't beat about the bush, he didn't sugarcoat. He said few words but they conveyed more pertinent information than the lengthy debates of the high Lords. He dared to call a lord or anyone for that matter out if they sprouted falsehood. As he phrased it himself ' he called their bullshit so they would stop winging' .
  
  Jon had quickly realised that if you could see past his rough manners, Clegane was a guy you could rely on. Besides he was a formidable fighter. He would be a valuable addition to their group when they travelled to the Wall. Jon had heard that the journey might not be without dangers.
  
  Sandor Clegane had arrived at the Driftmark while Jon was visiting his foster-grandmother. He had arrived together with Captain Davos Seaworth and a Dornish Prince. The Prince had left after a sennight but Davos Seaworth had stayed on and Jon had come to enjoy his company.
  
  Davos, as Jon had been allowed to call him, reminded him a bit of Lord Stark if you considered the way he always had a pearl of wisdom to offer when Jon struggled with something. But where Lord Stark was formidable, Davos was an easy-going, warm-hearted person, who always stayed very humble. He acted more like an affectionate father toward Jon and Jon had been delighted upon learning that Davos would accompany their small party to Winterfell.
  
  It had also been nice getting to know Robb's sisters and brother and observe how they were exactly as Robb had described them. Arya had become their little shadow. One time he and Robb had sneaked out of the castle trying to avoid her company for once but it hadn't taken much longer than the time it took to shoot ten arrows before she had discovered them in the small yard and had wanted to try it as well. Of course, her little arms hadn't been able to pull the string of the bow so Jon had helped her and with their combined effort they had hit the mark right in the centre before Robb had been able to do so. Apparently, by this little act, Jon had earned her undying loyalty.
  
  Their lively company had distracted Jon from his grief over the loss of Max. The little dog had gotten ill shortly after they had started their journey north. Jon had felt slightly sick as well and after a bad night full of disturbing dreams, Jon had woken up next to the lifeless animal.
  
  He had kept it together reminding himself of Lord Reed's promise. Moments before they had parted, Lord Reed had whispered the content of a premonition in his ear. Lord Reed had promised that Jon would find a worthy mate during his travels and would create a bond with him stronger than anything he had ever experienced with Max. He had also given him the cryptic comment ' to share when the time came' .
  
  Being at Winterfell meant seeing Lord Eddard Stark again and he had of course also been introduced to his lady wife, Catelyn Stark. She seemed nice, be it a bit formal, always greeting him rather stiffly when he encountered her in the hallway or the great hall when he sat down for dinner. She always invited him to dine at the family table but he often excused himself murmuring a well-meant thank you and dined at the table where his entourage was seated. It was obvious that she didn't like that very much but for some reason did not force the issue.
  
  She wasn't at ease in his company. Jon was almost at the end of his stay here and still, her behaviour was a combination of formal pride and apprehension. Somehow she seemed to go out of her way not to offend him. She enquired regularly if his room was adequate, if the food was to his liking, whether the servants saw to his needs timely and sufficiently, but always with a tense look on her face.
  
  Jon took it all in stride. Overall, he enjoyed his time at Winterfell immensely.
  
  The only low point of his visit thus far had been Theon Greyjoy. Jon had immediately sensed that the Kraken was jealous of the easy camaraderie that had grown between him and Robb these last moons and that the Ironborn tried everything to sow discord between the two of them. He told Robb that Jon was a nobody compared to them, Theon being a Prince of Pyke and Robb a future Warden of the North. Besides, Theon had declared, he was a year older and much more interesting than a spoiled brat from an obscure island.
  
  Things had worsened when Robb had insisted on a joint sparring session. Theon hadn't been able to beat Robb but had tried to swallow his pride and had boasted that Robb just had a lucky day. Then he had proceeded to take Jon on but he had been livid when he had been disarmed in under ten strokes. For once Jon hadn't been in a mood to be considerate. His opponent had tried his patience incessantly these last few days.
  
  Greyjoy had insisted upon a rematch and had charged at him before Jon had been warned to take up his starting position again. Jon had done the only thing possible to prevent himself from getting hurt and had tumbled sideways making a complete rotation that had him back on his feet instantly. Theon hadn't been able to stop his forward momentum and had hit the wall.
  
  Ser Gerold who had been watching from the corner had hurried over to the boys ready to intervene but since Jon had saved himself the knight had directed all his frustration and anger at Theon. He had slapped the boy across the face, dragged him to the small storage space where the training equipment was kept and had locked him in there.
  
  Theon had been sent to bed without dinner and had received a stern reprimand from Lord Stark the next morning. He had been given additional chores to limit his time with the boys and was made to apologise in full view of the household to Jon for his dishonourable conduct. After that awkward public confrontation, Jon did everything possible to avoid Theon. Jon didn't want to cause trouble for Lord Stark, besides Jon would leave in a few days. He didn't envy Robb who would have to share his home with the Kraken for several years.
  
  But tonight Uncle Benjen would arrive before dinner. His ' uncle' would also accompany Jon on his trip to the Wall.
  
  The next morning.
  
  Jon was apprehensive. He knew something was going on. Last night during dinner Lord Stark had come up to the table where Jon had been talking animatedly with Uncle Benjen, Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane. Uncle Ned had invited Jon to attend him in his solar the next morning after breakfast. He had looked rather grim and very serious in doing so. Ever since that moment, Uncle Benjen acted tense and his two loyal knights couldn't look him in the eye. They had evaded his questions and had merely answered him to remain patient stating that Lord Stark certainly had a good reason to summon him. Only Davos and Clegane had kept acting normal.
  
  Jon had not slept well and had dreamt that he was thrown out of the castle with only the clothes on his back. In his dream, he had set off alone, cold and hungry. In no time he had gotten lost in the woods. He had woken up drenched in sweat remembering the last part of his dream in which a pack of wolves had encircled him. He wasn't sure if they had threatened to attack him or if they had surrounded him for protection. At breakfast, he ate very little. Still subdued by the lingering memories of his nightmare, he couldn't help but worry about the reason behind the summons of Lord Stark.
  
  As he entered the solar, he was surprised to see that Uncle Benjen was there as well. He immediately felt a bit better and sat down close to him, doing his best not to look too intimidated. "You asked me here, my Lord," he addressed Lord Stark respectfully.
  
  "Yes, Jon. I would like to speak to you about your parents, your family." Lord Stark said with a weird sounding voice.
  
  'Lord Stark was every bit as nervous as he was!' Jon threw a furtive glance at Uncle Benjen. The man was fidgeting in his seat. "My parents are long dead, Lord Stark. I do not understand." Their behaviour was scaring him.
  
  "Yes, Jon, your parents are dead. The point is," Eddard Stark paused, to find the right words.
  
  Uncle Benjen shifted his body sideways and took Jon's small hand in his. Jon, what we have to tell you will be difficult to hear. But know that we did not intend to disown you. Before you react to what we tell you, please know that I've loved you from the first day I laid eyes on you. I would have announced it to the entire world that we were family if it would not have put you in danger."
  
  Uncle Benjen's eyes looked pleadingly into Jon's. For the first time, Jon realised their eyes were the same dark grey, Stark grey!
  
  "I don't understand," Jon stammered totally of balance now. "Are you my father?" His gaze never wavered from his ' Uncle' Benjen's eyes. This was not what he had expected at all. He didn't know what to think.
  
  "Jon, I am your uncle, your uncle by blood. Lord Stark is your uncle as well. You are the son of my sister Lyanna Stark." Benjen kept his voice as calm as possible and still held Jon's hand in his.
  
  Jon looked at him sceptically."Your sister who looks like Arya and you missed so much when she died? I have Stark blood? Why would you not want to tell me that? I could have grown up with Robb at Winterfell. Oh, Robb and I are cousins! Does he know? - Who knows? - Why didn't I know?" Jon was working himself into a frenzy.
  
  "Please, Jon, listen," Uncle Benjen, apparently his uncle for real, pleaded with him. "Jon, for the love I hold for you, please listen to me and let me tell you the entire story first. There is a lot more to it. Promise me that you will hear us out and listen with an open mind. I know you are intelligent enough to consider all the angles and not only your perspective. Please, keep in mind that all these years we have always had your best interest in mind. My brother and I have always considered you family and it has hurt us terribly that we couldn't raise you ourselves. Please believe that above all else." Benjen Stark looked almost desperate.
  
  Jon squeezed his hand reassuringly and tried to calm himself and his-uncle down. "I will try, Uncle." They gave each other a watery smile.
  
  However, it was Lord Stark who cleared his throat and proceeded to tell him a short version of the story starting with the Rebellion, the slaughter of the royal children, finding their sister with a baby and finally revealing that Jon was a member of the Targaryen royal family and had a claim to the Iron Throne.
  
  A long silence followed. Jon's mind was reeling. His uncles waited patiently for Jon to react. The boy released his uncle's hand, stood up and proceeded to walk up and down the small room. He did what they had asked and considered more than the implications to himself. When he had come to terms with what to ask first, he stopped pacing and regained the seat close to his actual Uncle Benjen.
  
  "Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur?"
  
  "Are your Kingsguard, sworn to protect you." Lord Stark completed Jon's sentence for him.
  
  Another silence, then Jon spoke up again. "You were fighting against my father's armies during the Rebellion? Yet... ," Jon hesitated to say more.
  
  "The Rebellion was started over a lie." Uncle Benjen intervened softly. "Things would have been so different had the realm been told that Lady Lyanna of House Stark loved Crown Prince Rhaegar and she had married him of her own volition. Starks and Targaryens had been allies for almost three hundred years. But lies were spread and everybody overreacted, my brother Brandon high on that list. The Mad King murdered my father and brother. Things escalated from there."
  
  Benjen Stark took a deep breath and looked straight at him. "Jon, we are not your enemy. You are part of our pack. We are working behind the scenes to rectify the wrongs done to your house and we will help you get your throne back."
  
  Another long silence, this time Jon didn't get up. He stayed perfectly still and appeared to work through all that he had been told. Finally, he looked at Lord Stark. "How uh, why would you put me on the throne? Why can't I just live with my kin now that I know I still have people to call kin? Surely after all these years, nobody suspects anything any longer. And if I have learned anything from my history lessons, I do not look like a Targar... ," Jon halted, his eyes grew wide.
  
  "Maester Aemon! He is my kin as well! And Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys! Do they know of my existence? Oh, we're going to visit Maester Aemon next! Does he know who I am?" Jon's mind jumped from one conclusion to the next.
  
  "Jon, let us all calm down." Lord Stark interrupted Jon's exclamations. "There is a lot more you need to hear. But to answer your first question, King Robert Baratheon is not a good king. The realm suffers. He doesn't care about ruling, doesn't care about his people. He only drinks and spends a lot of money. He is still searching for your aunt and uncle who are living in exile. He never stopped wanting to eradicate House Targaryen. He would ask for your head the very moment he heard of your existence. As I said, he is not a good King and the smallfolk are suffering."
  
  "Although it is your birthright to rule, the true motivation should be that you, that we want to help people. We do not want children to be murdered because they were born into a particular house. We want to protect Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys. We want to protect the smallfolk, the weak, things not so dissimilar to the vows a knight makes. But to do all this, to be able to right these wrongs, we need you to have power. The only way to obtain that kind of power is for you to stake your claim. But rest assured, you won't have to do it on your own. It won't happen overnight and we will all stand by you."
  
  Lord Stark studied his nephew closely. Reassured that the boy was listening intently, he continued. "The plan is to keep you safe. You have to stay hidden until you are old enough. In the meantime, we prepare ourselves. We build a fleet, amass an army, forge alliances and give you the education you will need. Raising you at Winterfell with your Kingsguard in tow would not have been safe. Trust me. Your knights and I had a heated discussion that fateful day that I wanted to take you from them at the Tower of Joy and bring you north. We all had to compromise."
  
  "Why tell me now, uh Lord Stark?" Jon asked. He took a deep breath and added, "Can I call you Uncle?" He blushed at the blatant yearning his voice betrayed.
  
  "I would consider it an honour if you would call me Uncle Ned." Lord Stark gave him a hesitant smile. "At the very least this would mean that you are not holding all this against us too much.
  
  "I'm trying to look at it from your point of view, Uncle Ned." Jon was calmer now.
  
  "I am trying to come to terms with the fact that what you and Uncle Benjen have been doing all these years could be considered as treason and that you have been risking your lives all these years. Hells, you have been putting your house, your children in danger." I believe that I am not entitled to be resentful but should be thankful instead."
  
  He locked eyes with Uncle Benjen. "Especially to you, Uncle Benjen! If I am right, you have been doing nothing but travelling for my sake?" Jon looked warmly at his favourite uncle, a correct term since now that he had more than one uncle.
  
  The man had not moved and once more reached for Jon's hand. "It was my choice, Jon. I would do it all again," he stated with a relieved smile on his face.
  
  "Still," Jon addressed his other uncle, why now? Is it because we are going to visit Maester Aemon at the Wall? What is he, a grand-uncle of mine?"
  
  "Something like that yes." Uncle Ned started his confession."If we are being honest, Maester Aemon was the one who insisted on telling you now. We would perhaps have waited a few years longer. Just to keep you safe, mind you. The more people who know, how you might act once you know, the way other people in the know will interact with you, it could all arouse suspicion. Someone could overhear. All reasons to wait a bit longer."
  
  "It isn't because you think me still too young to handle this knowledge, because you do not trust me to be mature enough to keep this a secret?" Jon asked slightly upset.
  
  It was Uncle Benjen who tried to dissuade him from that notion. "Jon, we do trust you. We only wanted you to have some carefree years first. Imagine if you had known earlier. Knowing your sense of duty...", he trailed off but then resumed with more confidence. "Now that you know, will you still be able to forget everything and enjoy playing games with Arya without a care in the world?"
  
  Jon sighed. "Perhaps you have a point there. Although, now that I know some things, I wish to know it all. Perhaps not everything right this instant. The Gods know that I need some time to come to terms with all of this. My parents caused the rebellion! They were the reason thousands died?"
  
  "Jon, don't overthink things now. Wait until you're calmer. But I can perhaps reassure you at least some on account of your parents. We have reason to believe someone set them up. All those lies that were spread could not have been a coincidence. We are looking into it and have a suspect. And do not forget, the situation in the Seven Kingdoms was volatile enough to begin with, remember, a mad King sat on the throne."
  
  "Let's leave the rest for later, perhaps even sleep on it first?" Benjen thought better of hugging Jon even if he ached to do so. He did not want to destroy Jon's composure. The boy would very likely fall apart the moment Benjen offered more comfort. He just squeezed his nephew's hand once more.
  
  Jon nodded. "All right, but in the next few days, I want to be briefed thoroughly. I want to hear all about the plans you have been making in my name. I want to know who has knowledge of my identity, who our allies are at this moment, whom you suspect of foul play and what preparations you were talking about earlier."
  
  He looked straight at Lord Stark as he added with as much authority as he could muster, "And I will want to take part in future discussions. If plans are being made for me, in my name, I will want to at the very least be informed about them if possible have a say."
  
  Jon paused, but the determined look remained on his face. "Also, I want to contact Aunt Daenerys and Uncle Viserys in Essos as soon as that can be arranged."
  
  Jon held up his hand when he saw that his Uncle Ned wanted to interfere.
  
  "I know, Uncle. I won't do anything without your approval. I wish neither to endanger you, your house nor my family in Essos. We can discuss the best way to go about this together, but please know that I need to know that they are all right."
  
  "We've seen to their comfort and safety, Jon." Uncle Benjen once more tried to appease him. "You won't be disappointed to hear about the arrangements we have made for them. But enough, for now, let's take a break," he tried once more. We all need some time to deal with. I propose that we meet once again after breakfast tomorrow. This hasn't been easy for you to hear, I know. But all this has taken a toll on my brother and me as well."
  
  Jon however still had one more pressing question. "Before I go back to my room, before I encounter other people, can you please tell me exactly who knows that I am a Targaryen? Of course, for now, I only need to know this of those currently at Winterfell so I know how to act around them? The rest can wait, but," Jon hesitated, and resumed in a small voice, "I really would like to tell Robb?"
  
  Uncle Ned was quick to reply. "Of all the people residing in Winterfell right now, the only ones in the know are present company, of course, my wife, and the two knights of the Kingsguard. Elsewhere, Lord Reed and Ser Arthur know as well and of course Maester Aemon at the Wall. "
  
  Jon looked pensive now. "Davos Seaworth, Sandor Clegane, they do not know?"
  
  "They only know that you are important and worth protecting. They will probably need to learn your identity soon now that you know."
  
  Jon nodded and wanted to ask about Robb but Lord Stark still had more to say.
  
  "The rest of this little list can wait as you said so yourself. Now about whom we will bring into our circle, let's discuss this the coming days. I would ask you not to tell my son Robb anything yet. I promise I will hear your arguments tomorrow and we can try to come up with a compromise but bear in mind that Robb will have to live under the same roof with Theon and Theon is an enemy. If Robb slips up or if Theon overhears the two of you talking, he will not hesitate to sign our death sentences by betraying us to the Crown."
  
  Jon saw his Uncle Ned slump back in his chair, clearly worried for his heir and the rest of his family. "I understand, Uncle." His voice sounded solemn as he continued. "I promise once more that for now I won't make any decisions or act upon this knowledge without talking it over with you either of you first. I respect the risks that you have already taken for me and will not put you in any additional danger if I can help it. Please trust me."
  
  His Uncle Ned stood up and put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I am proud of you, Nephew. Let me in turn promise you the same. I will not make any major decisions any longer before discussing them with you first."
  
  Then to Jon's amazement, the proud Warden of the North knelt before him. "I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be, my King. I swear it by the Old Gods."
  
  Jon looked uneasy. "Please stand, Uncle. I thank you and I vow that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour." He was glad the formal response had flowed naturally from him and mentally thanked his Maester for familiarising him with court protocol. His Uncle Benjen now kneeled in front of him.
  
  "Please Uncle Benjen," Jon pleaded. "Isn't it way too early for this?"
  
  "Jon," Uncle Benjen said, the devotions shining from his eyes, "I've sworn my sword to you when you were but a babe of a few moons old and I have served you loyally ever since. I would very much like to make it official."
  
  "It would be my honour, Uncle," Jon replied completely awed by the steadfast dedication of his favourite uncle.
  
  Ser Oswell saw a disturbed Jon return to his guest quarters at Winterfell. He immediately ordered Sandor Clegane to fetch Ser Gerold. Upon his arrival, Ser Oswell ordered Clegane to stay guard outside. Together the two knights entered the room where Jon stood brooding in front of an open window.
  
  "My King," Ser Gerold started hesitantly, "I can only imagine how shaken you must be and I am sure that you have a lot of questions to ask us."
  
  "I am the king of nothing yet," Jon retorted in a troubled tone. "Perhaps I never will be, or will never want to be."
  
  "To us, you always will be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, my K., my Prince." Ser Gerold protested. "Do not make any decisions now. Wait until you have had time to let everything sink in. You could do so much good for the people of Westeros."
  
  "Everyone keeps saying that!" Jon sighed. "Why must it be me though? I'm hardly twelve years old. I just had to watch a High Lord fall to his knees before me and swear me his fealty. That is a heavy burden to take on, you know. It feels as if he made me responsible for the well-being of the entire North!"
  
  "Not yet, My King. He swore to help you, support you if you wanted to claim your birthright. The rest can follow later when you are ready," Ser Gerold tried to reassure the boy.
  
  Ser Oswell stepped forward. "We were sworn to serve and protect you since before you were born, my King. Please, allow me to reaffirm my vow to you in person. It would mean the world to me."
  
  How was Jon to refuse these loyal knights? He nodded his assent. Instantly, both men drew their swords and dropped to one knee. Once the official part was over, Jon attempted to lift everyone's spirits. "Does that mean that I get to order you around, instead of you me?" He tried to joke but failed since both men were taken aback by his words and were looking at each other to determine how best to react.
  
  It was Ser Gerold who carefully formulated a response. "We are sworn to obey your command, my King. And we will. When it concerns matters of state, ways to go forward, we will only be advisers. When it concerns matters of safety, we hope you will not disregard our orders unless necessary. But when we take on our role as an instructor, for instance during a training session, we will need to be able to exert our authority. We will need you to push on when you're tired and we will not obey your orders to end the training or omit exercises you loathe. You must trust that we will always keep your best interest in mind, but if you do not agree with this, we might as well stop training you at this point."
  
  Ser Oswell nodded in full support and both knights looked at him for a reaction. "Well, Jon said after thinking it through, "I think that I can agree on that for now. However, there will come a time that I will choose how hard and how often I practice. But I agree that that is still years away."
  
  "Here is my first command. You are not allowed to address me as 'my King' yet, if you want to pay me homage, I'll reluctantly agree to 'my Prince' for the time being but would ask you to use it as little as possible and only in private. I do not feel I have earned any titles yet. Let me get used to the idea at first. I need some time to come to terms with my newfound parentage first. Please, allow me this."
  
  "I would however like to hear your version of my parent's role before and during the Rebellion. Perhaps you can tell me tomorrow or the day. I'd prefer to hear about it before we leave for the Wall?"
  
  "Of course, my Prince" Ser Gerold answered. "If you prefer to be alone for now?"
  
  "I do, thank you, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell. But before you go, allow me to express my gratitude to you both from the bottom of my heart for your unwavering loyalty to my House."
  
  Ser Oswell's eyes grew wet. "My Prince" He bowed and both men left the room.
  
  The next morning Jon and both his Stark uncles once more held a private meeting after breaking their fast. A lot of things were discussed. Then Jon mentioned the subject of his Targaryen relatives.
  
  "I have given this a lot of consideration, Uncle. I will stall my decision until I have spoken to Maester Aemon. I hope he can give me some advice. Uncle Benjen informed me that the Maester hears from them from time to time. I'll ask him for a safe way to contact them."
  
  Both uncles nodded their agreement.
  
  "On the subject of Robb however, I understand that you believe him too young still. I do. I know first-hand what a burden this knowledge is. However," Jon frowned, "if I decide to pursue my birthright, I will need his unwavering loyalty. How will I gain that if I don't trust him in the first place?" He shook his head to refrain Uncle Ned from speaking.
  
  "I won't make any decisions before I have talked with Uncle Aemon. He has seen many generations of Targaryens come and go. I want to hear his reasons for giving up his birthright. I want to look him in the eye as he tells me whether he as any regrets or not. I will also wait until you have told me all I still need to know. Then, I will take my time to decide if I want to do this. And only if after all that, I decide to go forward, we will discuss Robb again and we will need to come to a compromise because I will not want to wait long before telling Robb who my parents are."
  
  Jon was not done yet. "I would also like to have your consent to tell Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane at my discretion. I do not believe that I can stall this for long. They belong to my immediate circle. I need to be able to trust these people with my life. I cannot do that when if they are feeling resentful because they discover it by accident and wrongfully believe I was the one who didn't find them trustworthy enough. What's more, it is only fair that they should know what is at stake when they are the ones risking their lives."
  
  "I can see you have considered all this very carefully," his Uncle Ned reluctantly agreed. "I trust you to handle this, but take precautions. Be sure the members of your Kingsguard are near you when you tell them. You always need to prepare for the worst possible outcome. That way it mostly never happens." A tiny smile crossed his uncle's solemn face.
  
  They moved to safer topics after that as Uncle Benjen started talking about the logistics of the coming trip to the Wall.
  
  Jon tried to hold it together during his last days at Winterfell. He spent as much time as possible with Robb and half of the time this included Arya whether they intended it or not. He knew it could be a long while before they might see each other again. He would miss Robb terribly.
  
  "We'll compete on who can write the longest letters," Robb had tried to joke but the look on his face had belied his tone.
  
  "Uncle Benjen's luggage will consist mostly of scrolls and he will hardly have any room in his saddlebags for his belongings when he travels between us." Jon had tried to continue the joke.
  
  He did his best to act as if nothing was the matter so Robb wouldn't ask questions. Questions that Jon would so very much like to answer but wasn't allowed yet. It took all of his mental strength.
  
  As a consequence, Jon cut their alone time short with some lame excuse of necessary preparations. He needed some time to mentally recuperate from the effort of hiding his inner turmoil.
  
  His last evening at Winterfell, Robb had somehow discovered where he had hidden away and had interrupted his brooding. His friend had quietly taken the seat next to him, put his arm around Jon's shoulders and had pulled him into him. They had stayed in that positions for a long time, not talking just silently supporting each other, both keenly aware that they had to part in the morning.
  
  Robb probably knew something else was bothering his friend but wisely choose not to ask and to allow Jon to decide when or whether to tell him. They parted when it was well past their bedtime with one last hug. Jon knew he would never find another friend he could be as close with as Robb. If only he could tell him he was family. It would mean the world to Robb, just like it did to him.
  
  The next morning, the travellers for the Wall were all assembled in the courtyard. Davos smiled when he saw Robb and Arya making their way to the front row of the sending-off party on the opposite side of the yard. Both were struggling to hide their emotions. Until the last moment Robb had tried to obtain his father's consent to accompany them but Lord Stark had not relented.
  
  The latter stood quietly beside his family giving off the impression that the Warden of the North had come out to pay his respect to his brother and travelling companions who were about to leave for the Wall. However, Davos observed that Stark's eyes rested on Jon to the exclusion of all others.
  
  Jon waved one last time at Arya and Robb, nodded to Lord Stark and urged his horse onward. The small caravan followed him at a sedate pace. Jon rode upfront between his two so-called houseguards who wore similar uniforms, always donning their helmets. Sandor Clegane, Benjen Stark and Davos himself made up the second row.
  
  They were followed by a wagon carrying supplies for the Wall and several Stark houseguards. The end of their small procession was made up by a few brothers of the Night's Watch accompanying a dozen recruits. The party from the Night's Watch had arrived at Winterfell just in time to join their excursion. They were a welcome addition that allowed Lord Stark to keep more of his houseguards at Winterfell than initially planned. Davos would escort Jon's small entourage back to the Driftmark by boat. His crew would complement Jon's protection for that stretch of their journey.
  
  Davos had been watching Jon closely these last few days. Jon was a quiet intelligent boy who was good with people. Davos had immediately taken a liking to the young orphan. When Davos had arrived at the Driftmark with Prince Oberyn and Sander Clegane, it hadn't taken him long to connect the dots.
  
  He had counted back the time and quickly realised that Jon was the baby he had sailed from Dorne to the Driftmark all those years ago. His three faithful shadows were a dead giveaway. Many years back, he had seen through their disguise. He had known they were no farmers returning to their homestead after the war. Their stance had been a dead giveaway. These three were men of noble birth, knights most likely. It had been a strange group. Davos had recognised Howland Reed since his wife and Lord Reed's wife were cousins. The combination however of a Northern Lord, three knights in disguise and a baby was suspicious.
  
  But discretion had been a condition of getting the assignment and Davos had never spoken about this to anyone. Apparently, in doing so he had earned the good graces of his clients because they had used his services frequently over these past ten years. And now they had asked him to work for them exclusively. Davos had not hesitated. The entire situation had intrigued him for years.
  
  Besides, he had grown fond of the boy. The young orphan welcomed his company and Davos couldn't help but feel protective towards Jon, these last few days even more than ever. He was not blind. He had noticed that something had happened to Jon during that meeting with Lord Stark. Jon had kept more to himself and could often be found brooding in some corner. Robb was the only one who could get him to lighten up and coax him to go out and share an activity.
  
  But that was not the only change Davos had noticed in the boy after that fateful morning. Jon seemed more confident somehow, certainly in his interactions with Lord Stark. Where before Jon had been very deferential to Lord Stark, even a bit intimidated, he now actively sought out Lord Stark's company and initiated their conversations. Davos had been astounded to notice that the proud Warden of the North never turned the young boy away and always gave him his full attention.
  
  Davos observed the lad as he was installing his belongings into a small tent. The boy looked exhausted and a bit sad. Davos decided to offer to keep him company. It was clear as day that the boy needed a sympathetic ear. And since Davos couldn't fetch Robb as he had secretly done while they were still at Winterfell, he decided to do the next best thing.
  
  In the meantime, Jon had installed himself by a small fire and noticing Davos approach, he invited the older man to keep him company. "Are you warm enough Davos? Have you ever been so far north?" Jon asked after Davos had found a comfortable spot close to where he was sitting. He made sure to keep his eye on the meat he was roasting over the fire.
  
  "Not over land, no," Davos replied. "But I have sailed to Eastwatch a few times and I can tell you, at sea, the winds make the cold temperatures even more biting. These old bones are used to a lot, you know. I can handle it. You need not worry about me." Davos smiled at Jon. "That smells delicious. I think I will roast some for myself." Davos made a move to stand up and head toward the supply wagon but Jon halted him.
  
  "I have an extra portion right here. You can roast that. The piece that I am cooking now will be more than sufficient for me."
  
  Davos sat back down, prepared the offered piece of meat and started roasting it. He noticed the two knights sitting a few feet away around another fire. By all appearances, they were engrossed in conversation but Davos was not fooled. They were positioned just so that they were able to watch every movement that Jon was making.
  
  Davos focussed his attention back to the boy and saw that the boy was studying him. "Davos, why are you travelling to the Wall? Do you have business dealings with the Night's Watch? Will you travel back with us or will we have to part ways soon?"
  
  "I was hired by Lord Reed who acts on behalf of your entourage to join your journey to the Wall because I will be the one to convey you safely back to the Driftmark by ship." Davos had chosen his words carefully. He wanted the boy to realise that Davos realised that Jon was at the centre of this strange excursion. A young boy who could hardly be older than eleven or twelve name days had no business at the Wall. Davos had had his suspicions all these years ago but current events confirmed that he was on the right track. He had already been able to fill out several gaps in his theories.
  
  But as he watched Jon slump his shoulders, he wondered if it had been the right thing to do. He moved a bit closer to Jon and tried to help the boy. "Are you all right, Jon? You seem a tad troubled these last few days. Has anyone been a nuisance to you? Is there anything I can do to help?"
  
  Davos was close enough so he could whisper these words. Jon could hear them over the crackling of the fire but no one else would. Out of the corner of his eye, Davos saw Benjen Stark approach but the two knights signalled Stark to let Jon and Davos be. Benjen Stark complied and joined the two knights instead.
  
  The lad in the meantime had shifted a bit closer to him. His shoulders were almost touching Davos' arm. It seemed Jon appreciated Davos' effort to comfort him. "I'm not completely fine yet," the boy told him quietly, "but I'm getting there. I just got some distressing news about my parents. I am still trying to make sense of it all."
  
  "I think your meat is well done," Davos warned Jon and for a moment they focussed on the food. They spent some time in comfortable silence. Davos waited until Jon had finished his meal before he resumed their conversation.
  
  "I will not pry, lad. You tell me, or you don't tell me. You decide. But know that I'm here if you need a listening ear. Sometimes talking about things makes you feel better, gives you a clearer perspective." Davos tilted his head and smiled at Jon. "Or I can always distract you with a silly tale if you prefer. I happen to know a few more since travelling with the extravagant Prince Oberyn."
  
  Davos stopped when he noticed that Jon had tears in his eyes. "Or I can sit here in silence, just keep you company," he added quietly.
  
  Jon leaned against Davos looking for physical support. "Just sit here with me for a while," he whispered. "And thank you, Davos. As soon as I can tell you more, I will. For now, know that I am grateful for your company and value your advice."
  
  Davos put his arm around Jon's shoulder to offer more comfort, unknowingly imitating Robb's gesture from the night before. Somehow this memory made Jon feel better. They stayed like that until it grew too dark and everyone retired to their tents.
  
  The next morning Davos approached Benjen Stark. "Jon's troubled. I hope Lord Stark has done right by the boy?" He saw Benjen Stark swallow. Davos waited patiently for a reaction.
  
  It took a while for Benjen Stark to decide how to respond. "Jon is very dear to our family. We consider him part of our pack. We will always love and protect him," he vowed.
  
  Davos nodded. "He is easy to love", he confirmed and walked over to where the horses were grazing. When he looked in the direction of Jon's tent again, Benjen Stark had joined the boy and was hugging him.
  
  Davos was blinded by the sun's reflection that bounced off in the large structure of ice that came into view once they had left the last trees behind. They would reach Castle Black today. The journey had been uneventful. They had encountered no thieves, no Wildlings and there had been no attacks of wild beasts. Even if Davos had laid eyes on the Wall before, it still was a majestic thing to behold.
  
  Davos relished seeing the awe in Jon's eyes. The boy appeared relaxed, content even. Jon's mood had improved gradually over these last two sennights on the road. Perhaps this long trip on horseback had been just what he needed.
  
  His close companions had given Jon enough solitary moments to work through whatever burden that had been placed on his shoulders. They would often ride in a protective formation with the two knights upfront Jon occupying the second row, Davos, Benjen and Sandor Clegane behind him closely watching his back. They mostly allowed Jon to make the first move and the choice of a conversationalist when he was ready for company.
  
  But what delighted Davos the most was that no matter what problem Jon struggled with, the confident attitude Jon had begun to adopt after his last discussion with Lord Stark hadn't wavered. He had witnessed the lad become more positive and assertive and was happy to see him on occasion make jokes with the men. Jon could strike up an amiable conversation with anyone, be it a Lord or a lowly Night's Watch recruit. Everyone seemed to welcome the boy's company.
  
  Davos turned his head back to the Wall when he had heard the sound of a horn. Benjen Stark moved his horse closer to Davos. Clegane followed suit.
  
  "It seems the Watch have spotted us," Benjen told the both of them. "They will send out a party to escort us."
  
  And he was right. A short while later, a party of four men in black furs made contact and guided them along their last few miles and through the gates of Castle Black.
  
  Jon's eyes took in the wooden structure that was Castle Black. It was larger than he had imagined even though Uncle Benjen had told him about the renovations that had taken place these last few years. He knew that it now housed more than a thousand men in relative comfort. The guest quarters they were assigned looked clean and functional.
  
  Jeor Mormont had welcomed them all but Jon had noticed immediately how the man had looked at him with a wary eye. The Lord Commander had questioned his Uncle Benjen's sense in allowing such a young boy to visit here, the Wall being no pleasure park being his exact words. Mormont's voice had boomed over the caravan so everyone had been able to hear the harsh words. Jon hadn't known where to look.
  
  Uncle Benjen however had calmly reached into his saddlebag and removed a scroll. Mormont had accepted it and read it on the spot. The man had granted them entrance without another word.
  
  Later alone in their rooms, Uncle Benjen had explained to his nephew that the scroll contained the polite request of the Warden of the North to allow Jon Celtigar access to Castle Black. He motivated his request by stating that Jon Celtigar was a good friend of his son and heir and that the boy had been working diligently on a translation of an old Valyrian diary and would appreciate Maester Aemon's assistance. Lord Stark had stressed he would consider it a personal favour and had reminded the Lord Commander of the continued support the North gave the Night's Watch.
  
  Jon had been introduced to Maester Aemon at dinner. There had been no opportunity to exchange more than a formal greeting but he had been granted a meeting with the old Maester the next day in the afternoon. Maester Aemon still had to attend to his duties as Maester of the Watch first. Jon had understood but he was a bit disappointed all the same. He was impatient to meet the first member of his birth father's family.
  
  He went to bed early that night and dreamt of a large maze. Princess Daenerys was beside him and he saw himself pushing a strange chair that had two wheels instead of four legs. They were frantically making their way through the maze. He realised they were searching for Prince Viserys but couldn't find him, no matter how hard they tried. Jon awoke, a lingering sense of dread remaining from his dream. Were his aunt and uncle safe in Essos?
  
  He tried to shake these ominous thoughts. He got up and readied himself so he could join his companions and break his fast. The sooner he started his day and found some activity to keep busy, the quicker it would be time for the meeting with his great-grand-Uncle Aemon. Perhaps he might join a training session of the recruits this morning.
  
  Interlude 6: An unlikely alliance
  
  Oberyn was debating what to tell his brother. His mission had been successful and he had all his answers. Only, he couldn't share what mattered with his brother. He had been sending regular reports to his brother at Sunspear these last few years. Sometimes even briefing him personally and enjoying a few moons at home, a necessary reprieve from his years of travelling.
  
  The first item of real importance he had learned was that the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea were safe and comfortable. Prince Doran had permitted him to use Dorne's resources should the royal children be in need, but they were not.
  
  Oberyn first step had been to go straight to the prime source of information in Westeros. He had visited Lord Varys in King's Landing. Not an official visit to the Crown, he would delay that as long as possible. Never would still be too soon for him! He had stayed in a luxurious brothel near the town walls and made his presence obvious to some children he suspected were Varys' little birds.
  
  He felt safe taking this step. He would reveal no secrets if he betrayed his interest in the wellbeing of Prince Viserys and his sister Daenerys. They were family, related to Dorne by marriage. So he had had no qualms in asking the Master of Whisperers what he knew about them.
  
  Varys had been more than willing to cooperate. His little birds had informed the Master of Whisperers of Prince Oberyn's whereabouts and Varys had not hesitated in establishing contact.
  
  "Initially, I had set them up in a modest house in Pentos, my Dornish friend," Varys told Prince Oberyn. "I even sent several Targaryen loyalists their way. However, they no longer need my support. My little birds and spies across the Narrow Sea have informed me that the two royal children have been moved to a grander location. A rather safe one as I had to experience to my detriment. I have yet to get a spy inside their mansion."
  
  Prince Oberyn had frowned at this. "And who exactly is taking care of Elia's good family?"
  
  Varys had kept his surprise hidden and had relayed his second theory, the first one obviously erroneous now Oberyn had revealed that Dorne wasn't behind this. "Mind you", he had warned Prince Oberyn upfront, "what I am going to tell you are only strong suspicions. I have no proof but I suspect that the three former knights of the Kingsguard who disappeared without a trace could be behind it all. I am still trying to sniff out how they are funding the entire operation. I have some vague clues that lead to the North but not enough proof to be sure this intelligence is reliable. It is all rather vexing."
  
  His jaw had shifted slightly before continuing. "I haven't been able to get my little birds to infiltrate the new household of the Targaryen children as I said but mayhap we should consider this a good thing. It reassures me their safety is being taken seriously. Still, I would like to be reassured about one thing. My little birds' latest reports mention that they are only catching glimpses of Princess Daenerys. She is the only one to venture into the city with an escort. I have no real proof that Prince Viserys still resides in Pentos."
  
  Prince Oberyn had thanked Varys for the information and said he would investigate further and vaguely promised to send word to Varys if he learned anything substantial.
  
  Soon after, he learned from his contacts in Essos that the Prince had succumbed to an illness. He had immediately conferred with Varys but additional information from Varys' birds confirmed that there had been no foul play. The Prince's death was just a tragedy but not an uncommon one. Sadly, the red fever was not uncommon in Essos and the Prince had been one of many to die from the last outbreak.
  
  It had been years now since Oberyn had begun this quest. His investigation currently focussed on Benjen Stark. Oberyn had found traces of the North's influence in places he had never seen that before. Benjen Stark did more than lobby for support for the Night's Watch. That was much had become clear.
  
  In Essos, he had seen with his own eyes the large shipments of glass that were being shipped north. A more important detail that had caught his eye was that this cargo was transported in northern vessels! Nobody had known that the North had a fleet! Scrutinising the ships, he knew enough to conclude that they all seemed in good repair. Hells, he would even go so far as to guess that most of them were on their maiden voyage or had not encountered much rough weather yet.
  
  Even without personally venturing into the North, Oberyn had found more clues that something was up in that Kingdom. In every harbour he visited, there were northern ships at anchor. And when he encountered Benjen Stark for the second time in that year in an opposite corner of the realm compared to where he had first seen him, he began to track the Northerner's movements. After witnessing Stark meet a man that Oberyn recognised as one of the messengers of the Targaryens in Essos, he knew this was no longer a coincidence. Not If you also remembered that the Mountain had been shipped to Dorne on a Northern vessel sent by a Manderly and added Varys' suspicions.
  
  Oberyn had not yet informed anyone of this, neither his brother nor Varys. He wanted to get to the bottom of this first. No need to make a fool of himself. There was still a minor possibility that he had this wrong and Benjen Stark was nothing more than an agent travelling for the Night's Watch. After all, his theory that the North was building up strength to declare their independence, was mere speculation. He had no real proof yet.
  
  He based his theory on the fact that relations between King Robert and the Warden of the North had soured. But why would they concern themselves with the Targaryens? Were they planning to help them back on the throne? It didn't make sense. Why not declare the North independent and a Stark King of Winter? He knew he was still missing a piece of the puzzle. So, for now, the only option was to gather more intelligence before sharing his theories with his brother.
  
  And to make matters worse, he had made no headway in his search for Lord Tywin Lannister. He had travelled to every port in Westeros except for the northern ports. Nobody had been able to give him a lead on the High Lord's whereabouts.
  
  Almost a year after the Greyjoy Rebellion had ended, he had almost decided to give up and head back home. This war had crushed the most important foundation of his conspiracy theories. Bards were singing songs of the brave warriors that had defeated the barbarian Krakens. They always praised how valiantly Baratheons and Starks had fought side by side victorious once more. This time they had defeated the Ironborn. King Baratheon and the honourable Eddard Stark had reconciled.
  
  Oberyn had already made arrangements for a ship to take him home when he had been approached by a messenger. He saw through the thin ruse of opening up trade negotiations between Dorne and the Driftmark immediately. He knew the Driftmark was a place that Benjen Stark visited often. Most probably it was his secret base of operations for whatever the Starks were up to.
  
  He eagerly accepted the invitation and took heart in the thought that he had been on the right track all along. He had real hope now that he was on the verge of finding out what the Starks were planning and how it involved the Targaryen Princess in Essos. He told his captain to change their initial destination and head for the Driftmark instead.
  
  All the years of speculation and inventing theories had not prepared him for the young boy. Oberyn had been welcomed by Benjen Stark who had been at the harbour the moment Oberyn's ship docked at the small island. Together they had travelled the few miles to a small settlement. They had kept to small talk during that short journey on horseback.
  
  Dinner was still a long way off when they had entered a courtyard where a knight was teaching a young boy to fight. Although they were training with wooden swords, the knight was in full armour, complete with helmet. The boy, who could be no more than eleven years old, was dressed up in boiled leathers and his face was also hidden by a helmet. He seemed an apt student and Oberyn was entranced by his elegant footwork. 'That lad would easily adapt to our Dornish fighting style, Oberyn couldn't help but think.
  
  The boy had seen them enter and immediately lowered his sword and was asking permission for something. The knight stepped back and the boy rushed up to greet Benjen Stark who had dismounted while Oberyn had been watching the sparring.
  
  "Uncle Benjen! You are back!" The boy hugged Stark affectionately.
  
  Oberyn saw the obvious regard Stark had for the boy as well. 'Uncle?', Oberyn couldn't help but wonder.
  
  But then it happened. The boy took off his helmet and shook out his dark curls. Although Oberyn saw the dark grey Stark eyes something in his face, perhaps his cheekbones, his chin, the way the boy moved, were familiar.
  
  'Did Benjen Stark have a bastard, one with Dornish blood?' Oberyn senses were on full alert. He was sure now it was all about the boy.
  
  He studied Benjen Stark who met his eyes warily. Then he looked over to the knight who had removed his helmet as well. 'Ser Arthur Dayne! Of course, how could he not have recognized the fighting style of his former friend? Hells, he should have recognized it in the way the boy had fought as well.'
  
  He almost stumbled and didn't know how to act. 'Ser Arthur Dayne was alive. He was in Westeros and was connected to this boy how? The boy was a Stark, if Ser Arthur Dayne was his family as well, it could be through his mother's blood that he was a Stark. Lyanna', he thought and then the next idea struck him and he staggered and sat down not caring if the ground was wet he was about to soil his clothes. 'Rhaegar! Ser Arthur was protecting Rhaegar's offspring, a child with Lyanna Stark, a royal bastard! '
  
  Both Stark and Ser Arthur were looking at him apprehensively. Both had their hands on the pommel of their swords. He noticed his erstwhile friend did not carry Dawn.
  
  "Prince Oberyn?" Ser Arthur handed him a drink."I know it is a shock. But I am alive, have been all this time. For the sake of the esteem we both had for Crown Prince Rhaegar, will you let us explain?"
  
  Oberyn looked around searching for the boy. They must have ushered him somewhere else, safe from the possible threat that Oberyn presented now that he suspected who he could be. "The boy is Rhaegar's spawn? You want to put a bastard on the iron throne?" Oberyn spat out. He still wasn't a hundred per cent sure. He watched both men, studying their reactions carefully.
  
  Stark's eyes had darkened with a murderous expression on his face and he had stepped closer to Oberyn. He was about to give an angry retort when Ser Arthur stepped between the two of them.
  
  "Best get somewhere private before everyone hears what we are talking about. Prince Oberyn, would you be willing to hand over your weapons? All of them." He added after Oberyn had given him his sword and one dagger.
  
  Frustrated Oberyn looked at the both of them but then proceed to pull another four daggers from his person. Ser Arthur scanned him thoroughly and asked.
  
  "Can you give me your word of honour that you are not carrying any other objects that can harm the boy?"
  
  Oberyn looked at him defiantly "Will you be satisfied with my word of honour? I solemnly swear that I won't harm anyone while staying on this island? Unless I have to defend myself of course," he added as an afterthought. When they didn't respond quick enough to his liking he added. "I have been very compliant. I haven't been this defenceless amongst strangers in a long time. Put yourself in my shoes? Would you want to be completely unarmed amongst strangers?" he grumbled.
  
  Ser Arthur laughed, breaking the tension. He patted Oberyn's shoulder. "You, my friend? Defenceless? Even unarmed, my Prince, I am well aware that you are far from defenceless. Besides, we are no strangers. We are former friends, hopefully once more future allies."
  
  He helped Oberyn on his feet and they walked towards the small cottage where the three knights had lived many years.
  
  A long discussion ensued. First Oberyn had been infuriated. " Rhaegar's annulled his marriage? He took another wife?!"
  
  "He didn't change the succession. Elia's son was still going to be first in line of the succession. He had it written out, signed by witnesses. Elia agreed." Ser Arthur had argued and told him there was proof.
  
  "We have correspondence in our possession between Prince Rhaegar and Maester Aemon at the Wall, written proof that your sister had been consulted and approved of the idea. She had been scared that she would not survive another pregnancy. She intended to continue to live with Rhaegar and his second wife and raise all royal children together. Targaryens had done such before."
  
  Oberyn's temper had softened gradually and he seemed more willing to listen. He had asked to see one of these so-called letters and Ser Arthur had procured one, handing it over reluctantly and keeping a close eye on Prince Oberyn.
  
  "The scrolls signed by the High Septon containing the annulment and wedding are safely stored in a secret place in the North." He added after Oberyn had returned the letter to him.
  
  "Why call the boy Aegon though, who calls his second son after his dead child?" Oberyn had sighed. "I don't know if I can ever call him that."
  
  "We think it was not Prince Rhaegar's doing. He was dead by the time Lady Lyanna gave birth. He knew she was with child but I do not think they discussed names. Or if they did, perhaps Lady Lyanna changed their original choice after learning of the death of his two firstborns? It was probably her way of honouring her husband's murdered children. If nothing else, we think it further proof that both parts of Crown Prince Rhaegar's family had been on good terms with each other." Ser Arthur completed his explanation.
  
  At the end of their talk, Oberyn was reconciled with what he had learned. He was glad that none of the stories circling about the missing members of the Kingsguard had been true. They were alive and had retained their honour.
  
  He had congratulated the Starks on their conniving plot for neutralising the formidable Tywin Lannister. If anyone else had told him, he would not have believed them. 'And here I thought the Starks were the most honourable House in the Seven Kingdoms. It seems they are the most devious. To get away with all this scheming and still have such an upstanding reputation! I wonder if Eddard Stark sleeps well at night.'
  
  How he felt about the boy however, he was not sure yet. He had agreed to stay at the Driftmark for a sennight and take this time to observe the little Prince without raising the lad's suspicion.
  
  Oberyn had been warned that the young Prince still did not know about his true origins. He would be formally introduced to Jon Celtigar at dinner where he could also get the opportunity to reacquaint himself with Ser Gerold.
  
  Eddard Stark had been right in his predictions. Oberyn did like the idea of thwarting the Baratheon-Lannister alliance and had readily agreed to keep Prince Doran out of the loop for now, already relishing the moment he could show his brother that acting yielded better results than the passive approach his elder brother always relied upon.
  
  He couldn't help but soften upon hearing their arguments that the boy was a half-brother to Elia's children and that Oberyn would have done the same to keep his kin safe had he been given the chance. Babies were innocent of the circumstances of their birth.
  
  It was a sunny day and Prince Oberyn was aroused from his sleep by the sound of arrows hitting a wooden target. The position of the sun that streamed its light from high up through his little window made him realise it was almost the middle of the day. 'No wonder I overslept,' he muttered to himself. 'A man could get drunk from less.' He hurried through his morning ablutions quickly broke his fast and joined the men outside in the training yard.
  
  Jon had just finished his target practice and was sitting down drinking sipping some water. He stood politely when he noticed their visitor approach. "Did you sleep well, Prince Oberyn?" The boy opened the conversation.
  
  "Late enough, it seems." Oberyn adapted a jovial tone. He was curious to get to know the boy that Ser Arthur had raved about last night. Oberyn had only been able to exchange courtesies with him during the evening meal the day before.
  
  It was endearing to see the young lad struggle to find another topic of conversation. "What is your weapon of preference if you spar, Prince Oberyn?" Jon asked after a moment.
  
  "Definitely a long spear." Oberyn didn't hesitate. "I like to make fools of knights trying to fight with swords that have not half the reach of my long spear." He saw Ser Arthur narrow his eyes and added, "Most knights, not all of them."
  
  "I would love to see that." Jon looked at him expectantly.
  
  'Of course, the boy would,' Oberyn thought. 'Not today though I don't feel like it.' Out loud he answered. "There's no one here I would want to fight. You're not there yet, young man, and well, let's just say I promised myself that I would never fight my good friend over there ever again." He and Ser Arthur shared an amused look.
  
  "Can you at least show me how you handle a spear? I mean twirl it without dropping it? I have never seen a man handle a spear before."
  
  'Damn those puppy eyes!' Well, I might have, but I didn't bring one with me." He evaded.
  
  "We have one here in our armoury." Jon was already on his feet. I'll get it for you." And before Oberyn could react, the lad had stormed off with a highly entertained Ser Arthur following after him.
  
  Jon returned having difficulty carrying three spears of different lengths. "Can you do it with one of these, Prince Oberyn? These were the only ones available." Hopeful dark eyes met his.
  
  There was no reasonable objection he could think of so he rose to his feet and chose the middle one. 'No harm in showing the boy a few moves.'
  
  Jon watched mesmerized as Prince Oberyn moved in all directions the spear gliding along in perfect symmetry up and down, forward and sideways.
  
  Oberyn soaked up his adoration. He started to give short explanations in between moves: when to use a particular move, the possible countermoves of his opponent, how he would react and so on.
  
  At one point Jon approached him. "Prince Oberyn, I did not understand that last bit. Maybe if I took the position of your opponent and you could repeat that move once more? It would make it easier for me. That was a difficult counter-attack to visualize."
  
  'Did I just get played by a small boy?' Oberyn berated himself a short while later.
  
  Somehow, the young Prince had tricked Oberyn into volunteering to teach him the basics of fighting with a spear and defending against an opponent that wielded one. They had sparred a bit and Oberyn conceded he had enjoyed it immensely. Well, it was easy teaching a boy who had been tutored by the Sword of the Morning. He had even promised the little Prince another sparring session, where the youth would be wielding a spear as Prince Oberyn defended.
  
  Over the next few days, Oberyn made an effort to discuss various topics with the boy. Unlike his daughters, he had to draw him out. ' If there was a negative quality to him, it was that he was too deferential, too considerate. He needed to grow some balls. His daughters could teach him.' That last thought had amused him.
  
  Prince Oberyn had left the Driftmark full of energy and couldn't wait to set all the agreed-upon schemes in motion. He would teach those Northerners how the Dornish could work effectively behind the scenes. Besides, he hardly needed to take any risks.
  
  He was fully committed and looked forward to seeing Elia's stepson sit on that much-coveted throne. Perhaps he could even get him to marry one of his daughters? The Prince didn't strike him as someone who would look down on a person because of his birth and his daughters were beauties. 'Yes, he would show both the Northerners and Prince Doran!'
  
  Ser Arthur had been satisfied as well. His report would be brief. Lord Stark hadn't overestimated Jon's magnetism. The boy had removed Prince Oberyn's last doubts.
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter will figure dragons and direwolves.
  
  We will also see Varys and Ser Barristan again.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Of wolves and dragons
  Chapter 8: Of wolves and dragons
  
  Summary:
  
  The title says it all really.
  
  The interlude features the end of Ser Barristan's suffering and I do not mean his death :-)
  
  Notes:
  
  Maester Aemon sat in his study waiting for the arrival of Rhaegar's only remaining son. He had wanted to speak to the child years ago. Instead he had been restricted to corresponding with Aegon in lengthy letters that took moons to reach the Prince since all correspondence between the two of them had to be carried by Benjen Stark or another messenger sent directly from the Prince's entourage. There was no other way he was allowed to reach out to the boy. Well the Starks had kept him safe for almost twelve years now. So, at least they were doing something right.
  
  At first this delay hadn't bothered the Maester too much. But ever since a heavily disguised Ser Arthur Dayne had shown up at the Wall a few years ago carrying the three dragon eggs Lord Reed had instructed him to find, Maester Aemon had been urging the Starks to bring the Targaryen to him. The Maester was scared he would die of old age before he could convey the closely kept secrets of House Targaryen to the rightful heir to the throne. If there was any justice in this cruel world, one of the eggs might respond to the true King's touch, if they were very lucky perhaps two or all three? He was tired of speculating.
  
  He had been introduced to the Prince yesterday evening and had immediately felt a kinship with the child. He had reminded himself to call him by his alias and not show the boy any more attention than a formal greeting. But finally the wait was over. His grand-grand-nephew would be here anytime now. Maester Aemon was ready. He had been prepared for this visit for a very long time. He had checked once more this morning that all the books he had brought with him when he had arrived at the Wall all those years ago were within reach. He had also verified he still knew all the secret places where the Targaryen artifacts were hidden in his room so he could ask his nephew to take them out if the conversation went as well as he had envisioned a thousand times by now.
  
  And here it was, the eagerly awaited knock on the door. He heard the young boy enter together with the already familiar steps of Benjen Stark. Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark had indulged in several lengthy conversations over the years. They featured the topic of the well-being and education of Prince Rhaegar's son first and foremost, but also the situation at the Wall and the Wildling threat were topics they talked about at length. Benjen Stark had often been his scribe when he dictated letters to his young nephew.
  
  Maester Aemon would allow Stark to keep them company for a short while. Enough to give the Prince the opportunity to grow comfortable with his old uncle and then he would demand a private audience with his kin. Some things were for Targaryen eyes and ears only, no matter how much gratitude he owed the Starks for keeping this young Prince safe at the risk of their own lives.
  
  "Come here, my Prince", he encouraged the boy. "Let me feel the contours of your face. My old eyes have not seen any light in a very long time. I would like to get to know the son of my grandnephew. And these are my only means to imagine what you look like." He lifted his two hands up a bit.
  
  "I am very honoured to finally make your acquaintance in person, Maester Aemon and would like to take this opportunity to thank you once more for all the kind advice you have given me in the past," the boy replied politely. Maester Aemon felt the you Prince gently take one of his hands and bring it to his face.
  
  "I'm am kneeling in front of you now. I am taller than this Maester." Aemon heard the smile in Aegon's voice.
  
  "When in private, I give you leave to call me Uncle." He hadn't expected he would warm up to the boy this quickly. "Great-great-Uncle is such a mouthful. You can reserve the title Maester Aemon for when we are in company." His hand felt the smile grow larger on his nephew's face.
  
  "I thank you, Uncle," the boy immediately complied.
  
  The Maester moved his hand from Aegon's face to his shoulder.
  
  "Greetings to you as well Stark." Aemon looked in the direction where he had heard the man take a seat. I trust the journey here was uneventful?"
  
  "We got here safe and made good time." Stark replied. "I have to convey to you the regards of my elder brother Lord Eddard Stark and I would like to entreat you to keep in mind that Aegon has only known of his kinship with you for two sennights now. He prefers to be addressed as Jon."
  
  "I really don't mind making an exception for the Maester." The boy immediately countered. Outside these chambers I am Jon, but in here we are two Targaryens who share blood."
  
  Aemon felt his old eyes grow moist. He still had his hands on Jon's shoulder and patted it mildly, conveying his appreciation of that thoughtful comment. "Take a seat, nephew. Pull that chair up if you will and sit close to me."
  
  He turned his head in the direction of Stark again. "Would you mind allowing us some time to talk in private? I will call for you once we're done for today and will send the boy back with you. I promise I won't let him leave this room unescorted."
  
  "It is all right, Uncle Benjen." The boy replied softly, confirming to Aemon that Stark had been hesitating. He heard Stark mumble something to the boy and leave the room.
  
  The boy now addressed him. "You will have to be patient with me, Uncle. I am still coming to terms with all I have been told. I think I have accepted who my family is. I am not sure how I feel about all the political repercussions though. All I keep hearing is that I must claim the throne. That it is my birthright but also my duty." He paused. Aemon could almost hear him thinking.
  
  "I don't mind you speaking your mind, Aegon. Tell me what's bothering you and I will see what I can do to help." He hoped he had struck the right tone. He wanted the boy to open up to him.
  
  "Well, I can't help but think that if anyone can understand my lack of initial enthusiasm, it would be you, Uncle. You could have ruled Westeros. I hope you don't mind such a blunt statement so soon after meeting me." The boy seemed to have found his resolve.
  
  "Any ruler with a lick of sense would be hesitant," his uncle reassured. "The ones who want the throne just for the sake of power and acclaim are not suited for such a responsibility. I have already learned a lot, from these first few moments, my young charge. I had already gathered from our correspondence that you are intelligent, so you will have no problem to understand that my circumstances at the time I made this very important decision were completely different from the ones you face now. I already was a part of the Night's Watch before my older brother died and I still had a worthy living successor. My choice did not leave the realm in chaos, at least not for the erstwhile foreseeable future."
  
  He paused and took his nephew's hand to soften the words he knew would be hard to hear for the young Prince. "I am sorry to say this but you are the best hope for Westeros as far as I can tell. Your claim is superior to Viserys' and the reports from Essos mention the mental health of the Prince is deteriorating notwithstanding the care he is being given. I am sorry to tell you but it will be very likely that one of the next reports from Essos will convey the news of his death. The Prince is very ill."
  
  He could hear the boy exhale loudly and guessed he was trying to come to terms with this. He waited a bit, listening closely to Jon's breathing and continued when he sensed the boy was calmer.
  
  "I just wanted to say that as long as I live I will be here to advise and help you. You will not have to do all of it alone, Aegon. Besides, there are upsides to being a Targaryen. Wait until you know all the closely kept secrets of our house. One of them is a beautiful gift for you."
  
  He could hear the boy shift in his chair. He was probably sitting up. He had been able to catch the boy's interest.
  
  "The head of House Targaryen is entitled to wield a Valyrian sword. Nothing else would be good enough don't you think?" He teased the boy.
  
  "A Valyrian sword? Are you speaking true, Uncle? I have only heard of Dark Sister and Blackfyre? Aren't they both lost?" Aemon could hear the excitement building in his nephew's voice.
  
  Go to the right side of the fire hearth, and search the floor for a tile that is a shade lighter than the others. You can also recognise it because of its chipped corner."
  
  He could hear the boy leave his chair even before he had finished speaking.
  
  "Now lift it and you should see a package wrapped in cloth in the space below it. You may take it out and unwrap it."
  
  "That tile is rather heavy, Uncle."
  
  "Just lift one corner and slide it to the right. Once it starts moving, the difficult part is over." He heard Jon successfully move the stone.
  
  "I see two packages, Uncle. I suppose I should take out the tall slim one?"
  
  Aemon nodded and an exclamation could be heard almost immediately. "If my history lessons were accurate this is Blackfyre, I recognise the big red ruby on the hilt. It also seems more robust than how I had pictured Dark Sister", he heard the Prince say.
  
  "It is Blackfyre", the Maester confirmed. "It was recovered and brought to me years ago. I had a premonition the right owner would come and claim it eventually. It is yours, Aegon. I hear your training is going well and you will be a worthy owner. Best put it back for now. You can take it with you when you leave us in two sennights. But keep it covered. It would betray your origins in one instant, never mind your dark curls. I have heard Ser Arthur tell me there is much of Rhaegar in you."
  
  He heard the boy unsheathe the sword.
  
  "Should I forget, remind me to tell you later about a folk tale regarding the Long Night and a Song of Ice and Fire before you leave. It was something your father loved to talk about. I can give you a book to read about that as well." Aemon rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry my young charge, I am getting off topic."
  
  "Don't worry, Uncle", Jon assured him, "I would like to read that book and I will make sure to remind you. Please ask me anything you want."
  
  "I want to hear you tell me some more about your life so far. Your letters over the years have only heightened my curiosity. Fill me in and leave nothing out. Would you be willing to start by explaining the bond you have with your dog, Max? That part of your heritage is new to the Targaryens."
  
  A significant while later Jon summoned a steward to fetch his Uncle Benjen. I seemed he had worn Uncle Aemon out. The old man was softly snoring in his chair. Jon still had many questions left. He would make sure they had plenty of opportunities to talk some more the coming days.
  
  Several days later, somewhere on the road between castle Black and Eastwatch.
  
  ' Fire and blood, Fire and blood', the mantra repeated over and over in Jon's head. They had started the journey towards Eastwatch where Davos Seaworth's ship would be waiting for them. His mind was still reeling with everything his great-great-Uncle Aemon had told Jon. He couldn't wait to return to the Driftmark. There were three dragon eggs safely wrapped and tucked in an additional saddle bag he would not leave out of his sight. He would sleep with the bag under his bedfurs. They were too precious.
  
  Jon had never felt such protectiveness before. The moment he had spotted the green egg, a feeling of belonging had come over him. When he had touched the egg it had felt warm under his touch and he could have sworn he had felt the egg reaching out to his mind. Maester Aemon had been elated when Jon had described what he experienced. He had urged Jon to try touching the other eggs as well. The beautiful white egg with silver sparkles was also warm to the touch and Jon felt a kinship with it, although nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling the green egg had provoked in him. The black egg however left him indifferent. It could as well have been just a shiny black stone.
  
  His Uncle Aemon had reassured him that he had already exceeded his expectations. His father, Rhaegar had desperately tried to connect with the eggs and failed. Jon stood a good chance to hatch two living dragons in the near future. The black egg was perhaps destined for Daenerys or for one of his future children. At least that was what Maester Aemon had implied.
  
  Of course Jon would start the hatching process that his uncle had described in great detail only when he was safely installed on the island once more. They would return to the Driftmark. If he was successful Jon and his guards would spend a lot of time on the most eastern point of the island. Nobody lived there at the moment since there was not much besides rocks and harsh winds. But Jon had once ventured there and played in caves that were big enough to provide shelter for growing dragons. His guards could easily travel between the small settlement and the caves. If they travelled on horseback they could make the journey back to the settlement in no time. Even on foot it would take no more than half a day.
  
  It would be the ideal place to raise them and teach them to fly without attracting attention. Jon would make sure that all possible precautions were being taken to keep the existence of the eventual dragons a secret as long as possible. If he already felt this protective towards the eggs, the Old Gods knew what he would be willing to do to protect tiny vulnerable dragons. He suspected he would not hesitate to use lethal force against anyone who dared to threaten them.
  
  Jon remembered with unease Uncle Aemon's advice regarding the Targaryen bloodline.
  
  He had seen the man hesitate before he advised him.
  
  "Aegon, you should realise Targaryen blood is important to control dragons. If you are successful in hatching one or more dragons, you should consider marrying your aunt, Daenerys."
  
  Jon had started to protest but his great-great-uncle had put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Dragons live for several hundreds of years and an uncontrolled dragon could bring doom to the realm. If your children's blood is too weak, they will not be able to control them. You would have to kill your dragons before you die."
  
  "My blood is only half Targaryen," Jon had protested.
  
  "You are lucky, Aegon. Apparently the Stark blood contains magic as well and it appears it doesn't lessen your Targaryen abilities. Against all odds, it seems to have enhanced them. But to further dilute your blood would not be advisable with dragons back into the world."
  
  "But she's my aunt! I cannot marry an aunt." Jon really hadn't wanted to discuss this then.
  
  Jon had been blindsided by his uncle's demand. He was still coming to terms with the idea of possibly being responsible for owning, let alone controlling a dragon, and now this?
  
  "Technically she is your aunt. But she is also just a girl of an age similar to yours. She is a virtual stranger to you. You have not grown up together. Targaryens have done stranger things."
  
  His Targaryen uncle had seemed determined to convince his nephew.
  
  "There are still a lot of ifs in your reasoning, Uncle. I will take it one step at a time. Let me first get these eggs safely to the Driftmark and see what happens then. Even if they hatch, it is not a given the baby dragons will live to reach adulthood. By the time they do, I will be older and more capable of making decisions about marriage."
  
  His uncle had stayed silent for a while but in the end had warned him that while it was wise to take it slowly for now, one should always plan his next steps.
  
  Jon tried to focus on the road ahead. Sandor Clegane was riding beside him. Luckily, the knight was not a talkative guy and left Jon to his own thoughts most of the time.
  
  "Glad to be leaving the Wall and the cold behind soon?" Jon asked. He didn't want to ignore the man the entire journey. Besides he always liked his unique way of describing things. Clegane didn't disappoint.
  
  "Never knew it could get so fucking cold. A guy has to keep moving the entire time not to freeze his balls off. Certainly when there are no fucking opportunities to f... " He remembered just in time he was speaking to a twelve year old
  
  He tried again. "Never mind, I'm no whiner anyway. I hate fire, but now I'm almost grateful the barbaric thing exists."
  
  Jon smiled. He felt lighter already. They were nearing some woods. Going around would take them much longer as going through. He looked at Uncle Benjen for guidance.
  
  His uncle didn't disappoint. "There is a small path we can follow a bit further to the right. I'll lead the way."
  
  Sometime later, something itched in the back of Jon's mind. He shook his head but the strange feeling only got stronger.
  
  Ser Oswell startled when Jon, who had been keeping in formation the entire time, suddenly led his horse to the right and without any warning left the road and headed deeper into the woods. A short panicked look at Ser Gerold and the two knights immediately went after their charge. They weren't familiar with these woods and Benjen Stark had repeatedly warned everyone to stay alert for possible wild animals or roaming Wildings.
  
  Swords drawn the two knights reached the clearing in the woods where the boy's horse stood without its rider. They scanned the area and saw their Prince on his knees next to a dead wolf, if it even was a wolf? If it was, it certainly was the largest one they had ever seen.
  
  Benjen Stark appeared next to them. "It is a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark", he told them quietly. "I didn't know some had ventured south of the Wall. I have only caught glimpses of them beyond the Wall when I accompanied the rangers of the Night's Watch on a scouting mission. The rangers are scared as hell of direwolves."
  
  The three of them watched entranced as Jon took out five little whelps who were still trying to obtain milk from their dead mother.
  
  "Jon," Benjen Stark whispered though a warning could still be perceived in his voice. "It is possible that the father is not far out. Leave them be and let's get back to the road. We must get out of these woods before dark."
  
  Jon however didn't get up. The small animals clearly welcomed the attention Jon bestowed on them. "We will take them with us," he declared. "There are five of them. You have two nieces and two nephews and Lady Catelyn is about to give birth to a fifth. They belong to House Stark. It will be my gift to them."
  
  "Jon," his uncle intervened, "we are not on our way to Winterfell. You realise these are direwolves? Direwolves are animals that live in the wild."
  
  "They are the sigil of your house. Lord Reed gave me a vague premonition before we parted and I cannot help but feel this is what was always meant to happen. If they are raised from mere whelps alongside the Stark children, they will be tame enough. When we reach Eastwatch we will send them to Winterfell with the next trading convoy. When we board the ship, I would ask that you, Uncle, take them to my cousins in Winterfell personally." Jon's voice trailed off.
  
  He touched his head then looked over to the far side of the clearing. He gently put the whelps down beside his uncle and went over to investigate that corner of the clearing where he had seen something white flash beneath the leaves. He signalled the two knights to keep their distance and carefully crept closer to that spot so he would not scare anything away.
  
  He kneeled once more and gently removed a little white creature with red eyes from under the bushes. It was an albino direwolf whelp, clearly the runt of the litter. This little one was for him, Jon was sure. His mind gently nudged the little wolf's mind and it responded by licking Jon's face enthusiastically.
  
  Jon straightened and turned around to face the men. "Please Uncle, let's pick them up and put them in a box on the wagon. I will personally care for them until we reach Eastwatch."
  
  Not deterred by his uncle's disapproving scowl he urged, "Didn't the Starks of old have direwolves riding beside them into battle?"
  
  Benjen sighed and relented. "We'll try to take them with us. But at the first sight of their father, we will release them. You wouldn't want to be attacked by an angry full grown direwolf."
  
  It was an uneasy procession that walked back to the road. The knights kept a worried eye on the small animals carried by Jon and Benjen Stark.
  
  "I'll take care of this one." Jon stated resolutely, tucking the white wolf under his coat instead of putting in the wooden box. He would not be parted from this little white creature. This one was coming with him to the Driftmark.
  
  Jon felt a small victory when everyone complied be it reluctantly. ' There were advantages to being the 'rightful heir' to the Iron Throne. He could perhaps take somewhat advantage of this once in a while? '
  
  He didn't have to check. His mind felt the little wolf had gone to sleep safely tucked in against Jon's chest. Jon had yet to hear a sound coming from the small animal. 'Ghost', he thought, 'his name shall be Ghost,' and Jon felt his mind relax as well. For the first time in sennights all was right in his world.
  
  Jon stood at the railing of the ship watching the Wall disappear. It stayed an impressive sight.
  
  He turned and went to the bridge where Davos appeared to be admiring the same thing.
  
  Jon waited patiently for the man to finish contemplating the disappearing structure and turn his attention to him.
  
  "I have long been longing to tell you something, Davos. Could we perhaps retreat to your cabin or do you know of a better place for a private conversation?"
  
  Davos had expected to hear about Jon's lineage. However he had been blown away by the talk of dragon eggs and the possibility of living dragons. He had refused Jon's option of bowing out once things got too dangerous and had solemnly pledged his loyalty and support to whatever Jon would decide next.
  
  The conversation with Sandor Clegane had gone a bit differently. Jon had reluctantly agreed to let Ser Gerold stand witness to it, bearing in mind his promise to Uncle Ned.
  
  However he had ordered the knight to be as inconspicuous as possible. Jon had emphasised he should turn a deaf ear to any insults or curse words Clegane would most likely utter and not take them as personal insults to their Prince. The only valid reason to interfere would be if Clegane threatened to bodily harm him which Jon believed to be highly unlikely. Ser Gerold had stayed by the door not moving a muscle, but his hand was closed to his sword.
  
  Sandor Clegane had listened to Jon without interrupting him. When he was sure Jon had nothing more to add he had thrown some questions at him.
  
  "Does that mean I get a raise?" Was his first reaction.
  
  Jon had been taken aback but had tried to keep his tone light. "Do you want to get one? I don't even know what you are paid now any way." He waited nervously for the next salvo from Clegane.
  
  "I'm not gonna kiss your boots or lick your arse, yer Grace. I'm not going to have to call you your Grace now am I?" He grumbled.
  
  "Just stick with Jon for now." Jon still watched him warily.
  
  "As long as you do not turn into one of those stuck up, no good for nothing nobles who don't look you in the face when they order you to kill some poor woman or child." He uttered. "Damn, I really liked you kid!"
  
  "I'm still me. I'm still a kid. You have my permission to tell me when I'm acting ' stuck up' ." Jon started to relax a bit. He estimated Clegane's initial reactions were promising.
  
  "You bet ye, I will!" was the assertive response. But then Clegane suddenly seemed to shrink. Jon noticed his eyes looking agitated at him.
  
  "I refused Lord Lannister's offer because I wasn't going to die for some fucking throne. He looked Jon straight in the eye and asked, "Am I going to die fighting for some fucking throne?"
  
  "You might, if you decide to stick with me." Jon replied honestly. "I don't know yet how dangerous it will get if we decide to go through with it. I would try to use a diplomatic approach, perhaps bluff a bit, but I cannot promise you it will not come to fighting."
  
  It was time for the big gamble. "I will release you from your service if you give me your word of honour that you will keep my secret. I must be honest though, I would prefer it if you chose to stick with me. You've proven to be a loyal guard and a good friend so far."
  
  Jon hesitated but decided to be blunt, "I would rely on you to cut through all the bullshit and tell me to my face what is going on, or what I could be doing wrong." Jon presumed this could still go either way. He waited with bated breath to see how the man would react.
  
  However Clegane didn't take long to make up his mind. He drew his sword and went to his knees. From the corner of his eye Jon saw Ser Gerold's hand tighten around his sword's pommel. He warned him to stand down with a stern look.
  
  After the usual protocol had been dispensed with and Clegane had risen back to his feet, Jon added, "I can ask Ser Gerold to knight you, if you want. I will officially name you a member of my Kingsguard if you consent."
  
  I ain't no fucking knight, boy. And you're no King yet. Think I will not protect you without some fancy title?"
  
  Jon hadn't expected anything different. "No, I trust you with my life, Clegane. Already have and will continue to do so. I thank you for your loyalty."
  
  Jon saw Ser Gerold relax. 'It had gone rather well, hadn't it?'
  
  Sennights later somewhere in the Driftmark.
  
  'Fire and blood', it seemed so simple. Of course the blood should belong to the person that bonded with the egg so that meant it was only simple for the Targaryen destined to hatch it. It had taken Jon no more than a sennight to see a tiny green dragon crawl from the cracked egg shell.
  
  Not sure the procedure would work he had minimised the risk and exposed only one egg to the fire that he had burning inside the cave at all times His two loyal knights took up guard duty and kept the fire going while Jon slept. They knew nothing of the small blood ritual however. Jon always performed it when the knights were outside guarding the entrance. They had no problem leaving Jon alone when he requested solitude for small periods of time. Their King was safe in there since there was only one entrance to the cave.
  
  Uncle Aemon had been adamant. Only Targaryens who showed the potential for bonding with a dragon should be initiated into the process of this hatching ritual. It was dangerous to spread the knowledge amongst those who were 'unworthy' as his great-great-uncle called it.
  
  Summerhall had burned down because an 'unworthy' Targaryen had tried to hatch the eggs without having a bond with them. Uncle Aemon had told him the tale. Frustrated, by their failure they had stoked the fires higher and when that hadn't worked they had tried every accelerant the Maesters could come up with. The result had been the total destruction of Summerhall and the death of King Aegon V and his eldest son Duncan Targaryen.
  
  Jon shook his head. 'Fire and Blood', it really had been simple. He took the shiny silver-white egg carefully out of the fire and reopened the cut he had made the first time he performed the ritual. Just a few drops each day, his great-great-uncle had instructed him. Jon followed these instructions to the letter. The small baby dragon watched the proceedings with keen eyes. It seemed the tiny green creature understood the importance of what his human was doing. Jon stroked its wings softly before putting the egg back into the fire, careful not to burn himself.
  
  He had noticed he was not as sensitive to fire as everyone else, but he could still get burned. If that happened however, he healed faster than the average burn victim. His Targaryen uncle had told him that Targaryens often had this ability to resist fire easier than non-Targaryens. He had told stories of his forefathers in Old Valeria who were rumoured to be totally fire resistant. He admitted that he didn't know whether the stories were true or if it had been just exaggerated tales of the ability Jon displayed. Anyway it was a useful quality for a dragonrider.
  
  His uncle Aemon also told him that the fire of the dragon or dragons he bonded with should not be able to hurt him, at least if the old books on dragonlore were to be believed. Jon had been gifted one of these books and guarded it with his life. The book was mostly in High Valyrian and Maester Aemon had had to teach him how to decipher the most sensitive parts that were gibberish if you didn't know the correct way to read them. It was a variant of the code he would use for his correspondence with his kin in Essos. Jon had already started his first letter and Uncle Benjen had promised to provide him with a discreet messenger who would carry his letter to his aunt and uncle in person.
  
  He had agreed to take precautions but would not be prevented from trying to establish contact between them. If they believed him to be who he was, he would stay in contact and double his efforts to create a safe place for them in Westeros so they could come home. He had his eye on Dragonstone. It would probably be some years before that could be arranged, but he would make it happen.
  
  Jon's musings were interrupted when a small ball of white fur leapt into his arms and startled the little green dragon. "Hello there Ghost." The little direwolf blinked his puppy eyes at him.
  
  "Be kind to this little dragon. He is part of our pack", he gently told Ghost.
  
  "We need a name for him though." He looked at the little dragon, trying to enter his mind.
  
  ' Rhaegal', the name echoed in both their minds. "Rhaegal", he tried out loud. The dragon nestled himself against Jon's chest only inches away from where Ghost was situated. The puppy looked at the tiny dragon and whined quietly. The matter was settled. Rhaegal and Ghost carefully looked each other over before falling asleep.
  
  Jon returned his attention to the egg that was lying in the middle of the fire that warmed the cave.
  
  'It won't be long now and then I will be responsible for three children', he thought and somehow it felt the right term when he thought of the little wolf and dragon. They were family, he would be their parent.
  
  Interlude 7: The value of an oath
  
  Ser Barristan had been sitting in this little tavern for most of the afternoon now. Normally he never ventured so far from the Keep. However he had to admit, the small establishment was nicer than he would have guessed from the outside. It was clean, not too crowded and the food had been tasty. The ale, well he would enjoy it more if he wouldn't be so nervous.
  
  The cryptic messages had started to arrive a moon ago, brief messages questioning his loyalty, his honour. As if his life wasn't taxing enough, standing behind a door hearing a drunken King enjoying himself with the Gods knew how many whores at the same time. Barristan also had to stand beside him straight faced, seeing him neglect his duties, being rude and even dishonourable at times. He preferred guarding the royal children, although lately the Crown Prince had become a pain in the ass. Luckily Myrcella and Tommen were still agreeable children. And to think he had come so close to becoming Kingsguard to a noble King. How things could have been different if his friend Prince Rhaegar had succeeded in deposing his mad father.
  
  Barristan sipped from the tepid ale. He hoped that he could put an end to this nonsense today. He hadn't hesitated when the last message stated a meeting time and a place. Not even when he was ordered to come alone. He had been offended when he had read the last line were it stated that no harm would come to him, that at least the messenger's honour could be trusted. Well if he got killed today, so be it. He didn't really care any longer.
  
  He scanned the room once more. ' Had that far corner been occupied before?' He squinted. It seemed an old man was sitting there now. 'A farmer?' He looked again.
  
  Now the man noticed him as well and nodded a greeting. Ser Barristan didn't move. 'Was that man someone who recognised a famous knight and greeted 'Barristan the Bold', or was he the elusive messenger?'
  
  ' Well, I've been here long enough. See how he reacts when I pretend to leave.' Barristan slowly stood, left some coins on the table and headed for the door, all the while watching the man from the corner of his eye.
  
  The man called his bluff and removed the hood that had obscured his face before.
  
  Ser Barristan faltered. He tried to hide his disbelief and changed direction. Without invitation he sat down on the opposite side of the table and faced his erstwhile Lord Commander.
  
  Ser Gerold settled the hood back over his head obscuring his face once more. "No names", he whispered. "I have a room upstairs and will retire now. If you like to hear what I have been up to all these years, you do as I say. Leave and try to reach the back entrance of this establishment without being seen. I will await you in the corridor and we can talk in private in my room."
  
  Barristan nodded and left without a word. 'Twelve fucking years, they had let him grieve for more than twelve fucking years!'
  
  "You claim that there is a son of Prince Rhaegar still living? You claim you are Kingsguard to the one True King and I to a Usurper? You come here after twelve fucking years and you tell me a fairy tale?" Barristan whispered furiously. His eyes stared full with disbelief at Ser Gerold Hightower, former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or perhaps not 'former'.
  
  "Lower your voice! Your whisper is almost louder than your speaking voice. And do not use names."
  
  Ser Barristan felt chastised. It was almost like the good old days when he was still under Ser Gerold's command getting scolded for daydreaming during a briefing.
  
  "If you know a safer place to meet, let's hear it. Otherwise keep quiet and use code names."
  
  Barristan nodded. Ser Gerold could be as abrupt as he wanted. Barristan still wanted to hear what he had to say. He decided to wait him out. Ser Gerold hadn't answered his earlier questions yet.
  
  Ser Gerold relented. "I won't tell you anything substantial about the Prince. Just know that he is the trueborn son of our Prince, a Targaryen and will be the best ruler Westeros has ever seen. What I want to know is where your loyalties lie?"
  
  Barristan shifted in his chair and looked uneasy. "I'm bound by my vow to the stag. This is a wretched situation. You know I would give my life for that family you protect. But how can I do it without dishonouring myself?" Barristan was proud he had avoided any mention of names.
  
  Ser Gerold snapped back but kept his voice quiet, "I do not consider myself dishonoured. We did what we had to do to keep our King safe."
  
  "You have not dishonoured yourself since you did not swear to the stag." Barristan damned his hastily taken vow for the millionth time.
  
  "Did you call him by his name or did you swear to the rightful King when you pledged yourself?" Ser Gerold retorted.
  
  "Word games, everyone knows what was implied." Barristan felt weary now.
  
  Ser Gerold mulled it over. "If you really want to serve my family again, you could go to the stag and tell him you are an old and tired man who wishes to live out his old days peacefully somewhere else, technically not a lie old friend." He offered and then added in an enticing tone, "and then you disappear."
  
  Barristan frowned and stayed silent.
  
  "But before we take such drastic steps, do you think the Spider could be trusted to spy for us? If not, you would be more useful here in Kingslanding serving my family here as an informant." Barristan saw Ser Gerold's eyes studying him, a hopeful look in them.
  
  Barristan sighed. "I think there is a chance, but with Varys you never know for sure. I could set up a meeting? We've had some conversations and I know he is sympathetic to my plight. He doesn't like how the Kingdoms are ruled. If he was presented with a good alternative... " Barristan stopped, unsure. He looked at Ser Gerold.
  
  "But why would you want to take such a risk? I am glad you talked to me, although you're twelve years late for the Gods' sake. I know and I hope you know that I can be trusted, but Varys? It is a risk."
  
  "What if I told you that it wasn't?" was the enigmatic reply of is former Lord Commander. "Let's sleep on it and meet again shall we say in two days' time. This time you can name the place. Just send word here. And do not sign the message."
  
  Barristan knew he was dismissed. He would not learn anything more today.
  
  Two days later in a small storage room of a blacksmith on the street of steel in Kingslanding.
  
  "Original meeting place", Ser Gerold greeted Ser Barristan.
  
  "It was not my suggestion." Ser Barristan muttered and Ser Gerold saw a man dressed in a large robe bend himself to enter the small door.
  
  Loud hammering noises, normal for the workshop of a blacksmith could be heard, the sound lessening only by a bit when the Master of Whisperers closed the door. He lifted his hood and revealed his bald head.
  
  "Glad to see you are still alive and well, Ser Gerold. Ser Barristan told me the best news I have had heard in years." Varys' voice was as smooth as ever.
  
  "I hope I can return the sentiment." Ser Gerold looked pointedly around the little room.
  
  "I thought this an excellent meeting place. Nobody will suspect. Tobho Mott is part of my loyal network and the noise will make it impossible to hear anything if you are not inside this room. I challenge you to find a spy in here."
  
  The room was tiny. There was no place to hide anything larger than a cat. Ser Barristan saw Varys smirk.
  
  "Now what can I do for you? Ser Barristan wouldn't say much. Only, and I quote 'I had to come for the good of the realm' end quote. Now how do you know that such a thing is enough of a motivation for me?" The Spider looked expectantly at Ser Gerold.
  
  "Would you believe me if I told you a greenseer told me?" came the cryptic reply of Ser Gerold.
  
  "Actually, that's almost the only thing I would believe. I do not think I have ever told anyone."
  
  Ser Barristan could see that Varys was intrigued.
  
  "What if I told you that I had a rightful heir to the throne, a worthy one, one of excellent character and an elaborate plan to put him on the throne with minimal bloodshed when the time is right?"
  
  Barristan noticed the confidence in Ser Gerold's eyes.
  
  "I would like to hear more, but cannot help but wonder why you need me then. If you have that so-called perfect King and perfect plan, why would you need my humble services?" Varys was intrigued.
  
  Barristan wanted to hear the answer to that as well.
  
  "Perhaps you have a role to play in this perfect plan of ours and we want to trust you?" Ser Gerold was quick to retort.
  
  "Does this plan of yours involve the Targaryens across the narrow sea?" Varys shot back.
  
  "Not necessarily, but even if, then only one of them." Ser Gerold really seemed to enjoy baiting him.
  
  "Good answer, are you talking about a Queen instead of a King?"
  
  "No." Ser Gerold kept his answer brief.
  
  "Can you give me an inkling of what my role would be?" Varys was stalling.
  
  Barristan saw Varys was close to figuring it out, the eunuch's eyes twinkled with excitement.
  
  "Sabotage Littlefinger, ferret out weaknesses of the Lannisters, we're working on a way to remove Renly from the small council without hurting him. We would need you for that as well. Also once everything starts, we will require you to make sure the royal children disappear somewhere safe so if something went awry and there is a moment of chaos, we can still go ahead and be sure they will be safe. We really do not want history to repeat itself. More details will follow when the time is right."
  
  Barristan saw Ser Gerold hesitating as if to say more but his Lord Commander kept silent.
  
  "A real humanitarian, your King?" Varys asked.
  
  "Something like that", Ser Gerold confirmed.
  
  "When will the time be right?"
  
  "Our king is still too young", Ser Gerold was playing with him.
  
  "Is he of Targaryen blood?" Varys asked.
  
  "Yes", Ser Gerold didn't hesitate.
  
  "Trueborn?"
  
  "Yes." Ser Gerold was giving away too many clues, Ser Barristan thought. He should stop baiting Varys and tell it like a normal person. Varys was almost there anyway.
  
  Varys looked at Ser Gerold totally relaxed now. "You know I have figured it out, don't you? You're alive, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell too I suppose. It's not Princess Daenerys. Prince Viserys is dead and sired no children. The North is involved. It can only be a son of Rhaegar but not by Elia. Benjen Stark is involved..."
  
  Barristan watched how Varys put all the pieces together.
  
  "It's a Dragonwolf! Ned brought Lyanna's body home. She was young and healthy, so she died in childbirth?" Varys halted. "The trueborn thing however? Prince Rhaegar was still married to Elia, was he not?"
  
  Barristan saw him looking at Ser Gerold excitement clear on his at other times stoic face.
  
  "Only the grand Septon could... ," Varys' voice trailed off.
  
  "The marriage with Elia was annulled. They were married. We bore witness. He is trueborn." Ser Gerold was adamant.
  
  Ser Barristan had been a silent witness to the word duel but now he couldn't help but interject, he was hurt. "Why wasn't I informed of the marriage? I fought with him on the Trident and he never said a word! And why did you keep this from me for twelve fucking years?"
  
  This was the first time since entering the room that Ser Gerold turned away from Varys and focussed his attention on Ser Barristan.
  
  "I don't know why Prince Rhaegar didn't tell you." The knight seemed to look for the right words.
  
  "Lyanna was pregnant. I know he had planned to parley with the Starks before the battle began. Clear up the misunderstandings. Prevent the battle hopefully. But either Stark wasn't there or something else went wrong. I don't know. I wasn't there. He had ordered us to stay in Dorne. If their unborn child was a son and our Prince fell during battle, the three of us had sworn to him we would protect the new King. That were our orders. That was the reason we weren't on the Trident that fateful day. But we have been true to our word and have been protecting our King ever since."
  
  Varys looked at Ser Barristan. "Nobody knew. If ever there was a secret that needed keeping, this was it. They did a splendid job. King Robert would have let them smash his little head against the Wall. I see why they didn't tell you."
  
  Varys turned his attention to Ser Gerold again. "Did the greenseer help you from the beginning? Do you realise how many headaches you have cost me over the years?"
  
  Ser Gerold only answered. "He did, he even did it without my knowledge for many years."
  
  "And", Varys enquired, "what would it take to persuade you to tell me what happened to Lord Tywin Lannister?"
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter, Edric Dayne, Gendry Waters and Sam Tarly make an appearance and Jon meets new people during a trip to and from Essos.
  
  It will be a huge chapter with two interludes at the end. That way the number of interludes matches the number of chapters. I like it better that way.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Rite of passage - part 1
  Chapter 9: Rite of passage - part 1
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon makes new friends and takes them along on a sea voyage
  
  Interlude1:Jon gets mail.
  
  Interlude2: Prince Oberyn helps the conspiracy
  
  Notes:
  
  Please remember the interludes can be past, present or future glimpses of the story.I have added a short bonus interlude. That way the number of interludes will be equal to the number of chapters.
  
  Fair warning: I have nothing against same sex relationships. However, in GRRM's world they are still outlawed and I have opted to stay true to canon in regard to this topic.
  
  Enjoy this rather long chapter.
  
  The Driftmark.
  
  "You have to let me go!" Jon argued heatedly. Ghost who lay quietly at Jon's feet perked up his ears and looked at Jon, his red eyes silently asking if he should lend his support. Jon just petted him reassuringly and his wolf settled back down.
  
  "How can I become a man? Do you really want to put an inexperienced green boy in charge of the Seven Kingdoms? I have never been engaged in a real battle, only played at being a knight."
  
  He was tired of having to defend himself again. Hadn't this all been agreed upon moons ago?
  
  "How will I know the dragons will follow me when I venture further than a few miles from this island? How will I know I can communicate with them when I am on a boat and they are inland?
  
  And more importantly, how will I know that they will listen to my orders and not overreact? I need to be sure they will stand down at my command even if it appears that I am being threatened."
  
  His Uncle Benjen, his three Kingsguards, Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane were present for this discussion. Uncle Ned had sent his brother to air his grievances. His Targaryen uncle had just urged him to take care in his last letter and Howland Reed had avoided the topic. He had however given them a most welcome piece of news on another matter.
  
  "Jon, your Uncle Ned urges you to annul this trip. His most fervent reasons being that you're barely sixteen and that you are too valuable. Without you there is no cause."
  
  "Sixteen is old enough, Uncle. How old was Ser Arthur when he joined the Kingsguard? How old were you when you faced your first enemy? How old do most men get married? I can go on, Uncle. I'll never get a chance to become mature enough if you keep me in a gilded cage and protect me like I am still an ignorant child. I have to learn to do things by myself, think for myself. I need to know how to react to unexpected situations, even if it means making a few mistakes along the way. Do you really think the Lords are going to respect a green boy?"
  
  Jon wasn't going to back down on this. They were set to leave in a sennight for the first leg of their trip. He looked at his audience and tried not to sound too pleading. "I need to step up my training, you can only learn so much from make believe scenarios, I need real life situations. I will lack confidence going to war for the Seven Kingdoms if that is my very first conflict. Surely you must understand that? You all have lived through several battles. You must still remember how you felt your first time? It is your duty to prepare me as best at you can and as far as I can see, you are not finishing the job well."
  
  "Besides, it will be more difficult for me, I will need to concentrate on battle and keep the dragons in check simultaneously." He felt bad for guilt tripping them like that but he had been making plans for several moons and now, days before they were about to cast off they were hesitating to let him go.
  
  "Not if you rode one of them during the battle." Uncle Benjen tried to dismantle his last argument.
  
  "They are not large enough yet." Jon retorted.
  
  "I will be the best protected Prince in the Seven Kingdoms." Jon resumed his plea. "I've got three famous knights and Sandor Clegane. Gendry, Edric and I can defend ourselves. Davos will handpick the ship's crew amongst the seamen we have been training for battle. Most of the sailors can defend themselves adequately and some even showed real talent with a sword or bow. Just the Maester, the cook, and a few stewards will be untrained. And do not forget, if Gods forbid we should encounter a superior force, I will have my dragons at the ready to fly in."
  
  Jon sensed he was making ground. Ser Gerold especially didn't look grim just thoughtful.
  
  "I cannot see anything happening on the first stage of our journey since we will sail alongside the trade convoy to and from Essos. We will take the shipping lane every trade ship takes. The second part of our journey you are free to arrange any protective measure you see fit. Besides we will be sailing North with three ships so we can convey the latest shipment of glass to the Northern Lords, three large ships that will be full of armed men. I grant you that on a small part of the journey there could be the potential of an Ironborn attack but we will scout their movements very carefully and take no risks. You can check the detailed itinerary and we all will stay in contact as much as possible." He looked at his Uncle Benjen when finishing his last sentence.
  
  Ser Gerold intervened. "The trip to Essos can go ahead as planned. On the return trip we can evaluate the feasibility of your proposed journey to the Stony Shore. Ser Oswell will not accompany us to Essos so he will have time to organize abundant protection."
  
  "I'll have Ghost with me for the journey across the Crownlands and Riverlands. He can scout and warn us long before trouble reaches us. When we board the ships at Seagard, we plan to stay close to the coastlines anyway. The dragons can follow and can provide extra protection. I will be able to test how long they can stay in the air and how high and how far they can fly. If they get tired, land won't be far off for them to find a secluded spot to rest up. All this exercise will probably benefit them as well. Afterwards they will be stronger because of it." Jon argued his case most fervently.
  
  "I still think we are taking unnecessary risks. What if someone gets wind of who you are? We have been working so hard, and we're so close now. If the situation continues to evolve, we could be making our play in less than twelve moons." Uncle Benjen looked apologetically at Jon. He usually took his side in internal conflicts but this time he was here in the capacity of the worried parent and stand in for the Warden of the North. He wouldn't be able to join Jon on this voyage and feared for his safety.
  
  "All the more reason for a trial run now. It will be my last chance before I have to come out into the open and fight for my claim. It is also my last chance for some normalcy. Sailing is a rite of passage for the males of House Velaryon. No one will find it strange that Jon Celtigar will make a sea journey close to his seventeenth nameday."
  
  "What about the Ironborn?" Uncle Benjen objected.
  
  Jon focused on his uncle to the exclusion of all else and answered him heatedly. "Can't wait to meet them personally. I've heard nothing but reports of your people having to fend them off, time and again. I have begged you repeatedly to let me help the North by hindering their raids with nightly attacks. The dragons could be in and out in a flash, leaving their ships burning. The Ironborn will hardly have a chance to recognise what is attacking them and would probably not believe their eyes. Those who would dare to voice their suspicion would be laughed at. Besides, I would love the first victim of my sword to be a Kraken!"
  
  "Lord Varys has warned you that he has heard some vague rumours about possible dragons but quelled them, luckily before Littlefinger got wind of them. You have Lord Reed to thank for this as well. But do not get too brazen or your luck will run out." Benjen Stark cautioned
  
  Jon made an effort to control his voice and countered. "Even if a rumour surfaced, nobody will know they are ours. And the Princess Daenerys is living in a veritable fortress for now. Hells, if necessary we could even start the rumour that the Golden Company might have dragons. They wouldn't mind. It would only enhance their reputation for the time being."
  
  Noticing that the worried look on his uncle's face didn't soften he tried another tactic.
  
  "Uncle, let's stop arguing about this. Let's try to spend the time that you are here to go over our strategies once more. That will be more productive if your goal is to keep me safe." His eyes implored his favourite uncle to relent.
  
  Jon turned to the others and changed the topic for now. "We still have a lot to discuss. If Lord Reed is right, Jon Arryn will succumb to his illness and the King will ride north to ask Uncle Ned to become be his Hand. We still need to synchronise our actions. Timing will be crucial to avoid casualties. Let's go over it once more and discuss everyone's part."
  
  "We are scheming on several fronts. Let us discus the steps to free up Dragonstone first. A you know, we plan to discredit the royal children, remove Prince Renly from the line of succession, see to it that Stannis Baratheon gets Storm's end, get Lord Velaryon to be the one to appoint a castellan on Dragonstone and then the Princess Daenerys gets to come home."
  
  "Crucial to this scheme is that we have sufficient influence in King's Landing. I know it will be a difficult task for Uncle Ned, but when the King asks him to be his Hand, he will have no good reason not to accept. He can share his reluctance with the King, let him stew for a few days and then agree to his offer only if the King will allow him to wait a bit longer to formalise the proposed betrothal of Sansa and Prince Joffrey. He can say he'll only say yes to one request for now and consider the other when Sansa and Prince Joffrey are both older."
  
  "He will not like the idea of being the Hand of a King that he'll have to overthrow." His uncle muttered. "I know it must be done, but I didn't realise my brother would be in such a prominent position when it all starts. Ned will struggle with it, question his honour. Brood even more than you." Uncle Benjen sighed.
  
  "It can't be helped, Uncle. If rumours start about the royal children, Uncle Ned's role will be vital to keep the King calm and slowly convince him that these are no rumours. He will be the one to keep King Robert's wrath in check in order to prevent him from harming innocent children once again."
  
  "Hopefully we will have solid proof by then. Lord Eddard Stark must influence King Robert to return Storm's End to Stannis Baratheon. If our timing is right the others will have succeeded in discrediting Prince Renly.
  
  My uncle also needs to persuade King Robert to issue an official decree in which Stannis Baratheon is officially proclaimed as first in line for the throne until such a time that the King has sired trueborn children and he has to reinstate him as Lord of Storm's End immediately." Jon reiterated the plan they had come up with.
  
  Lord Reed really had come through for the conspiracy. He had told them that he was certain that the royal children were not King Robert's children. The Lannisters were scheming to put a pure blood Lannister bastard on the throne. Lord Reed did not know which Lannister had sired the children exactly. However, he was certain they were not the rightful heirs to the throne.
  
  "Lord Varys will help him. He will spread rumours, and present the idea to the small council. But Uncle Ned will have to lend his weight to convince King Robert." Jon knew he would be asking a lot of Lord Stark but the situation was an unexpected windfall.
  
  "When Lord Velaryon is officially named as castellan of Dragonstone we'll leave the Driftmark and install ourselves on Dragonstone. Not only will it be easier to live with the dragons there, it will be easier to defend. We'll move a large part of our fleet there as well."
  
  "And just as Aegon the Conqueror, Dragonstone will be the place where everything is put into motion. Rather poetic isn't it?" His Uncle Benjen could always be counted on to lighten the mood.
  
  "Uncle Benjen" Jon urged him once more, "I count on you to ease Uncle Ned's mind. If everything goes as planned, his actions will save the lives of the royal family, the children included. This fact alone should soothe his mind. Besides, King Robert is a child killer and would murder me without thinking twice. There will be no real dishonour involved on Uncle Ned's part.
  
  You will need to leave soon, Uncle Benjen. Lord Reed couldn't see precisely when it would happen, but we must be prepared. Varys has affirmed that Lord Arryn's health is declining. I want you to reach Lord Arryn before he dies. It is important that you get back to Winterfell before the King does."
  
  "I know the royal family's behaviour patterns. If Arryn dies the King won't come north straight away. I give him at least two moons before he is finally ready to set out with his entire entourage. If the Queen insists on travelling in the large royal wheelhouse, they will practically be crawling to Winterfell, perhaps even schedule other visits along the way. It will take several additional moons before he arrives at Winterfell. There is still plenty of time." Ser Gerold calmly informed everyone."
  
  "That's good to hear, Ser Gerold", Jon replied. Let's discuss the other matters."
  
  "Well", Ser Gerold spoke up "We still need to put in place the messenger system Jon has proposed.
  
  Jon felt Ghost nudge his mind. He looked at him and realised that Ghost was restless and wanted to go outside for a run. He silently consented and Ghost was off in a flash.
  
  "I'm sorry, where were we?" Jon asked trying to refocus on the meeting after Ghost had disappeared from sight.
  
  "Your ideas of enhancing our messenger system." Ser Gerold helped his Prince back on topic.
  
  Jon explained. "We need to increase the frequency of our communications with every party involved. I want to establish a chain of messengers. We are spread throughout the realm and have to be able to react quickly if the political situation changes in some part of the realm. We will double the ravens and also should appoint several extra messengers to travel regularly between all our major bases of operations. No effort should be spared, this is too important. Once things start happening, our communication system should be flawless. If the situation is dire, I can even guide a raven personally. So if ever a raven should land on your shoulder, don't hurt it. You can safely use it to convey a message back to me, perhaps even if I am at sea at the time. We can try it sometime. Don't take too long to send it on its way though. It requires some concentration on my end to pull that off."
  
  He ignored the stares that were directed at him when he reminded them of his warging abilities and quickly changed the topic. "Now, about that last report from the Reach, my uncle has received a scroll from lady Olenna,..."
  
  The meeting went on for some time but Jon had gained the upper hand. They would depart in a sennight.
  
  Dinner that night was a boisterous affair. Jon was in a good mood. "Is everyone acquainted already?" Jon had just joined the table where Edric, Gendry and Sam seemed to be bonding most likely due to their almost equal amount of namedays.
  
  "Well", Sam said hesitantly, "We have introduced ourselves, I know everyone's names but that's about all."
  
  "Then let me remedy that at once, my friend." Jon really was carefree this evening. "Everyone, meet Sam. He will probably have told you that he is the son of Lord Randyll of House Tarly, a prominent Lord of the Reach. But that's just boring stuff. The interesting tale is how I met Sam."
  
  Gendry and Edric looked at Jon expectantly. "Well continue", Gendry ordered impatiently.
  
  Jon complied with a smile. "Well for reasons entirely his own, Sam was travelling to the Wall to join the Night's Watch. His ship was attacked and robbed by pirates not far from our coast. Sam was one of the few who escaped with their lives. Together with the other survivors, he was able to lower a small rowing boat into the water and reach the Driftmark. I happened to be near the port when they moored and convinced Sam to stay with us for the time being."
  
  Jon omitted the part of the story that Sam had told him in confidence. His father had disinherited him because he was overweight and craven compared to his athletic younger brother. His father, being a famous military man wanted his heir to follow in his footsteps. Sam would not do at all. He had given his elder son a choice. Join the Night's Watch were you relinquish all claims to land and titles or get killed during a hunting accident that his father would orchestrate. Sam had been disheartened and had taken his only way out.
  
  Sam had finished his tale by admitting to Jon that he was indeed craven. He had told him what had really happened during the attack on their ship. Most of the crew had been taken prisoner or were killed. Sam had hidden himself while the battle raged. After the Ironborn had left, the few survivors had escaped the fast sinking ship and had rowed ashore.
  
  Jon had been near the coastline with his dragons when the small boat arrived. He had immediately taken Sam under his wing and had reassured him that he had taken the best course of action. If there was no way to win the battle, you had to find a way to survive. It had been the smart thing to do, Jon had reassured him. Sam and Jon had become fast friends.
  
  Jon completed his tale. "Sam will first travel with us to Pentos. Then we'll cross the Riverlands and board a ship at Seagard to sail north. But if I have it my way, Sam will not leave us for the Wall."
  
  "I have to Jon." Sam stated quietly.
  
  "We'll see about that Sam. Don't worry. You still have several moons before you need to make your final decision. We're not in the North yet. If by then you are still determined to dedicate your life to the Watch, we will not stand in your way. This doesn't mean I will not stop trying to change your mind, consider this your official warning." Jon smiled at Sam but then included all his friends in his next words. "At the very least, we can make it an interesting journey. Let's drink to that. To an adventurous journey!"
  
  Everyone lifted their pints. "Hear hear!"
  
  The adults in the room looked over to the table where the youngsters were boisterously entertaining themselves. "Let them enjoy this time. Nobody knows what the future will bring." Benjen Stark stated. The others agreed.
  
  "Well Jon," Sam felt at ease in Jon's company, "Now you've told my story. That was the one I happened to know already by the way. I was rather expecting you to give me some interesting details about our new friends here."
  
  "My apologies, my Lord," Jon joked. "Let's continue the introductions shall we." He bowed to Sam.
  
  "To your left my Lord, you see Edric of House Dayne, heir to Starfall in Dorne and very popular with the ladies because of his pale blond hair and dark blue eyes. He is also the nephew of one of my most esteemed protectors and advisers, Ser Arthur."
  
  Edric played along and stood up making a formal bow to Sam. "Pleased to meet you, Lord Tarly." Then he sat down again.
  
  "And to your right, my dear Lord", Jon was clearly enjoying himself. "Please meet Gendry Waters, a tall and very strong young man, with blue eyes and thick black hair. He apprenticed with Tobho Mott, a famous blacksmith in King's Landing but for some mischievous reason of his own decided to leave the stinking city and make a living in a more peaceful place. Well we certainly can use a good blacksmith so we've persuaded him to stay with us at our modest island. We've started to give him some formal fighting training, teaching him to use a sword but he stubbornly prefers a hammer and if you let him, he can teach you some really cool moves with it."
  
  This was also the leaner version of what had really happened. Gendry had arrived with Davos Seaworth when he returned from his last visit to King's Landing.
  
  Davos had met up with Varys for an update. The meeting was held once more in the little backroom of Tobho Mott's workshop. Varys had told Davos how the Lannisters had suddenly started an all-out search for King Robert's bastards and were slaughtering them all without exception. He had even heard of a baby being torn from a woman's breast and being stabbed to death before the mother's eyes.
  
  Varys had begged Davos Seaworth to take the young apprentice with him. The boy had not been discovered yet. He probably was the eldest bastard of King Robert who was still alive. His mother had died a few years ago. Tobho Mott who had sometimes seen the young boy wandering past his shop, had realised the potential his young body was already revealing, namely the possibility of growing very large and strong. He had taken the boy in and had started to teach him his trade. The blacksmith had been disappointed to see the boy leave with Seaworth. Gendry had been a most promising apprentice.
  
  As soon as Jon had finished his tale, Gendry smirked and lifted his cup, a deliberate suggestion to the others. The four boys raised their glasses and drank to each other's health once more.
  
  Jon felt content. If only Robb were here, things would have been perfect. He promised himself to start another long letter to his cousin in the North.
  
  "I really enjoy being out on the open water." Jon looked out over the railing of the ship. They had finally started their journey. "Why have we not done this before?"
  
  "Do I really have to answer this question?" Davos looked pointedly in the direction where Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold were talking quietly.
  
  "Pentos is not really that far from the Driftmark, is it?" Jon enquired. "How long will it take to sail there?"
  
  "A sennight if the winds are fair. A bit more if they are not." Davos Seaworth replied simply.
  
  The conversation halted. Jon focused his attention on Ser Arthur. The knight had taken out Dawn, the famous sword of House Dayne and was cleaning it reverently. It was not often that Ser Arthur brought Dawn out in the open. But the men on the ship were all chosen for their loyalty and discretion. Besides it would not be long now before they would all out themselves.
  
  Jon's mind drifted to his own beautiful sword, Blackfyre. This was the first time he had brought it along. Ser Arthur had approved stating he should get used to handling the sword. It would not do to hide it away only to find out that when it really mattered, Jon wouldn't be familiar enough with it to wield it properly.
  
  They had agreed to dedicate part of their training sessions to sparring with their ancestral swords. Today had been the first time. Jon made a seamless transition from his dulled metal training sword to Blackfyre. Although Blackfyre was significantly lighter, wielding the sword just felt natural to Jon.
  
  The dulled metal training sword he had been using since graduating from the wooden one, years ago, had been made to resemble his Valyrian sword in both size and shape. If anything, wielding Blackfyre seemed easier.
  
  For once Ser Arthur did not criticize much during that part of their session. Both men paid close attention and were careful not to wound each other. Jon figured they both realised how easily these swords could cut through their shields and armour.
  
  When they finished Ser Arthur patted Jon's shoulder. "You've improved significantly my Prince, but do not get overconfident, you are not there yet."
  
  That was rare praise coming from Ser Arthur. Jon wondered now whether the fact that Ser Arthur had stayed quiet during their session had been more significant than he had thought at first. He already looked forward to the next time they could fight with their true swords.
  
  He walked past the small crowd that had assembled on deck to watch Jon face the famous knight. Jon just acknowledged Davos with an absent nod, went back this cabin to clean his precious sword and put it away safely.
  
  Seated on his bunk bed he took out the bundle of letters from his aunt once more and tried to imagine how their first meeting would go.
  
  A few nights later the four boys were playing cards in Jon's cabin. It was a tight fit but that didn't stop them from having fun. If anything it was easier to bump into each other and playfully sabotage the game by peeking at the other's cards. The outcome of the game wasn't important. It was just an excuse to spend time together.
  
  For a while now they had been talking about past experiences, the cards lying forgotten on the small crate between them. Gendry boasted about all his interactions with girls and Edric tried to match him. Sam and Jon didn't participate but didn't miss a word. Then Jon changed the subject to fighting techniques and a bit later he somehow found himself talking about the time Prince Oberyn, the famous Red Viper had visited the Driftmark when Jon had celebrated only twelve namedays. He boasted how he had coaxed a reluctant Prince into teaching him how to wield a spear.
  
  Gendry grew quiet and asked to be excused. He was tired and would like go to bed. Edric decided to call it a night as well and followed him out. Sam who suspected the two of them would revisit their previous topic about girls and sex stayed with Jon a bit longer.
  
  Jon immediately capitalised on this opportunity. "Sam I need you to promise me something."
  
  Sam saw the serious look on Jon's face and hardened himself so he would be ready to refuse his friend. "Is this about me joining the Night's Watch again?" He already regretted not having followed his friends to their joint cabin.
  
  "It is. Sam I need you to promise me you will not decide anything before you have had the opportunity to talk with my uncle Benjen about this. He can tell you objectively what life at the Wall is like. If you do not believe my descriptions, believe him. I vow I will not influence him beforehand. He will be a reliable source of knowledge. Use it. Question him thoroughly. Think on it some more and only then make a well informed decision."
  
  Sam couldn't deny Jon this earnest request. "I promise." He answered, got up and retired as well.
  
  Back in the cabin the three boys shared, Gendry had a grimace on his face when he addressed Edric. "This gets better and better. Lords, Princes and Jon just mentions them as if it is the most normal thing in the world. He even sparred with this Prince Oberyn of Dorne!"
  
  He shook his head. "Before I met you all, I don't think I had ever met a single noble person, let alone a Prince. Now I live amongst noble knights and lords. Did you know I have even heard Jon being called 'my Prince' at more than one opportunity? Is there something everyone knows but me?"
  
  Edric looked pensive. "You know I have been thinking the exact same thing. First I thought Jon was just an orphan of an important Lord who needed a lot of protection for some reason or other. Perhaps his father had a lot of enemies, or was very rich. But lately I have observed other things."
  
  Sam entered the cabin before Edric could say more. Sam had heard the last few words and noticed them halt and stare at each other as two small boys who had been caught doing something naughty. "What are you two whispering about? Are you still speculating about Jon and girls?"
  
  "It is about Jon. However it has nothing to with his apparent lack of courage when it concerns dealing with the other sex, are sex as a deed." He saw Sam blush at his words.
  
  "Hey do you know something about that? Is that why Jon was so quiet? Does he have a girlfriend somewhere?" Gendry tried to distract Sam.
  
  "No", Sam said. "Besides, I told you before to let Jon be. Let's get back on topic. If it wasn't about girls this time, then what was it that you were talking about in those hushed tones? From where I stood it looked like you were up to no good."
  
  "Why do you always think the worst of us? Just because we like to pull a prank once in a while..." Edric complained.
  
  "Never mind that, you are stalling. Now I am really curious to know why you seemed to be conspiring." Sam was getting worried. Jon was his friend and he would do what he could to keep these rascals in line.
  
  "Sam", Gendry started. "Have you ever heard Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell or Ser Arthur refer to Jon as 'my Prince'? I think I even overheard Davos say it once?"
  
  Sam, surprised by the serious turn the conversation had taken pondered this for a moment. "What if they do? Perhaps it is just an endearment, like Davos calls me 'son' sometimes?"
  
  "I do not believe you can dismiss it so readily. I for one think there is more to it." Edric whispered.
  
  Gendry nodded. "Have you seen that sword he used this morning? Ser Arthur was sparring with Dawn and I could have sworn that the one Jon used was a made of real Valyrian steel. I had not seen anyone use that particular sword before. You know I have worked in Tobho Mott's workshop and have seen several beautiful swords but the sword Jon wielded was just exquisite. It had this large red ruby and the hilt was a work of art."
  
  "Gendry, Edric," Sam tried to stop them.
  
  "And haven't you ever wondered about his direwolf? It is said they normally only live north of the Wall and are extremely wild and dangerous. According to legend, only House Stark can control them. Jon, as we can all testify, has absolute command of Ghost." Edric continued, bolstered by Gendry's cooperation.
  
  "Perhaps he has Stark blood? It certainly would explain him referring to Benjen Stark as 'Uncle Benjen'." Sam said a bit uneasy. "You know, I am not comfortable talking about Jon like this behind his back. Say that you are right and there is more to him than we know, have you ever thought there could be a very good reason as to why we were not told?"
  
  "I do not understand," Gendry interjected.
  
  "Perhaps we're not supposed to understand. If Jon wants us to know, he will tell us. That is, if there is anything to tell and if he even knows himself what there is to know, you know? I am not making sense, am I?" Sam concluded hesitantly.
  
  "No." Gendry had a hard time making sense of any of it.
  
  "I get the gist of it." Edric replied. "You want us to leave Jon in peace. According to you we should wait until he is ready to tell us what is going on, if we are right in the first place and if there really is something going on. You also mentioned Jon might not know anything himself either."
  
  "Why didn't you explain it like that to begin with?" Gendry complained.
  
  "I have a better idea", Edric looked at Sam. "Would it be alright to ask Davos Seaworth?"
  
  "Ask him what?" Gendry looked at Edric as if he had two heads.
  
  "Why they sometimes call Jon 'My Prince', Gendry." Edric was getting frustrated.
  
  "I don't know", Sam answered. "That could also be considered as going behind Jon's back.
  
  "We do not mean him any harm", Edric insisted. "We are just curious."
  
  "Aren't you related to Ser Arthur? Can't you ask him?" Gendry interjected looking at Edric.
  
  "He is more loyal to Jon as to me, which is exactly my point anyway. Why would my uncle be so loyal to Jon, the son of an average Lord? Ser Arthur is a former Kingsguard, the most famous knight in the entire realm used to guarding Kings and their royal offspring. Why would he guard Jon so faithfully?" Edric mused.
  
  Sam blanched. "Hey, do me a favour? Forget this conversation for now. Don't talk about this to anyone. Do not ask anyone any questions, not Davos, not Ser Arthur. I'll handle it."
  
  "Sam?" Edric was flabbergasted.
  
  "Promise me Edric, promise me Gendry. Trust me to handle this." Sam urged.
  
  Both nodded their agreement. Gendry regretted having started this strange discussion anyway.
  
  Sam left the cabin and went to check if Jon was still awake.
  
  The next evening, the four of them were once more assembled in Jon's cabin. This time however there were no cards to be seen. Gendry's just sat there, his mouth was moving but no sound exited.
  
  Edric stared at Jon with big unbelieving eyes. Then he turned his head and fixed his eyes on Sam.
  
  "You told on us", he accused.
  
  "And don't you like the result?" Sam managed to look a bit superior for once.
  
  After his panic last night Sam had put two and two together for the most part. He had made small observations here and there but had respected Jon's privacy. He had even noticed dragons the first time he had seen Jon at the beach but had not been sure they belonged together. He had hesitated to interrogate a new acquaintance. Yesterday evening however he had felt it was his duty to warn his new friend that whatever he was hiding was as good as discovered.
  
  Before Edric could react to Sam's taunt, Gendry had found his voice again. "For real, you're a Prince, or a King even? I already felt out of place in the company of three sons of real Lords, this is even worse. Do I have to call you 'your Grace'?"
  
  Sam and Edric were as eager as Gendry to see how Jon would react to these questions.
  
  Jon smiled, he remembered Sandor Clegane making almost the exact same remark. "Of course not. Please keep calling me Jon and keep acting normal around me. I am no ruler yet so am not entitled to be called your Grace."
  
  "So that's why they call you 'My Prince'. I thought they were just teasing you with that." Gendry was more at ease again.
  
  "Will you tell us more?" Edric tentatively probed.
  
  Jon looked earnestly at them. "I will. Just ask me. I'll answer if I'm able."
  
  "You have a Valyrian sword?" Gendry asked.
  
  "I do. Would you like to see it?"
  
  "I'd very much like to hold it if I may." Gendry asked reverently. "Does it have a name?"
  
  Jon had taken Blackfyre out of its scabbard and held it up moving it slowly so they could admire it from every angle. "Anyone recognise it?" he asked smiling at their amazement.
  
  "Gendry was right. It is extraordinary. It is even finer than Dawn." Edric was jealous when he saw Jon handing it to Gendry who carefully held it in one hand and checked the balance by swinging it in the limited space.
  
  "Can it be Blackfyre?" Sam asked. "It hardly seems possible but it looks like it."
  
  "It is Blackfyre. Maester Aemon had it at the Wall. He gave it to me shortly after my twelfth nameday."
  
  Gendry reluctantly handed the sword back to Jon. To Edric's disappointment the sword was soon back in its scabbard and tucked away once more between Jon's belongings.
  
  "No further questions?" Jon asked raising his brow at Sam.
  
  "You have pets?" Sam tried to give him an out.
  
  "I have several." Jon smiled and seemed at ease. "What do you think you know?"
  
  "Well you have Ghost, a direwolf, I guess he represents your Stark side." Sam still wasn't sure if he was allowed to bring up the dragons.
  
  "What's a direwolf?" Gendry felt out of his depth in this company in more than one way.
  
  Jon turned his attention to Gendry and started explaining. "A direwolf is the sigil of House Stark. You probably know that the Starks are the most prominent family of the North. My Uncle Eddard Stark is Warden of the North. My Uncle Benjen, you have met of course when you arrived at the Driftmark, is his brother. The large albino wolf you have seen in my company is a direwolf. Direwolves are fearsome beasts and mostly live in the wild, north of the Wall. But I have raised Ghost ever since he was a puppy and he is totally loyal to me. He won't harm you, unless you mean to harm me, that is."
  
  "I think you were not finished yet, Sam?" Jon gently nudged him.
  
  "Well, I couldn't help but notice two other pets, representing your Targaryen side of the family?" Sam hardly dared to say it out loud.
  
  "Dragons, Jon. He thinks you have two dragons who obey you." Edric was ready to believe anything by now.
  
  He grinned seeing Gendry's reaction. The boy sat there motionless, his mouth open, trying to decide if they were toying with him or not.
  
  "Didn't know what you were getting yourself into, did you?" Jon teased, but he sobered when he saw Gendry look at him with doubt in his eyes.
  
  "We're all friends here Gendry, you just as much as these other two imps. Relax, we'll fill up our pints and I'll tell you my story in more detail."
  
  The four of them talked deep into the night.
  
  The next morning after breaking their fast, Jon asked Gendry to accompany him to his favourite bench at the bow of the ship. The young man immediately complied.
  
  "How are you doing Gendry?" he opened the conversation when they were both seated.
  
  "I'm fine uh, Jon." Gendry hesitated on the appellation.
  
  "No you're not." Jon sighed. "You know even though I became an orphan moments after I was born, I have been lucky. I have always been cared for and have received a good education. You have not been that lucky."
  
  He looked at Gendry with a serious and encouragingly expression to give extra credence to his next words. "You were just unlucky Gendry. You are no less than us. You also have noble blood running through your veins. You just lack the confidence and knowledge how to address certain people in certain circumstances. If you agree, I can set up some lessons with the Maester to get you started. I am sure with just some basic principles you could do a lot better in no time. You are one of us."
  
  "I'm just a bastard raised in Fleabottom. I'm only good with my hands." Gendry stammered.
  
  "How would you know for sure if you never had the opportunity to test yourself? Who knows what you can accomplish in life? Being good with numbers is only one talent. If you do not excel in that, you can excel in lots of other things. I am told Tobho Mott was impressed with your quick understanding of several complicated melting techniques he showed you. Look at Sam. Do we look down on him because he is not really a fighter? No, we give him the opportunity to develop his other talents. Did you know that once Sam has read a book, he can almost literally recite it, even if it has been moons since he last read it? He would make an excellent Maester, one I could trust blindly."
  
  "I can't even read properly, only the simple words." Gendry confessed.
  
  "Nothing keeps you from learning now if that is your wish. I will not force anything on you, but think about it. If you stay with us, you can take advantage of all these opportunities I have had at my disposal my whole life. You'll just start your education a bit later than all of us but in time nobody will be able to tell the difference."
  
  He hesitated but decided to address the sore point head on. "And the fact that you are technically a bastard has nothing to do with you. It reflects more on your father, on your parents. They should call the fathers bastards, not the innocent babes. And do you realise, that if you stick with me, the moment I am King, I can legitimize you and grant you a lordship? So I'll repeat my earlier words. You are one of us. If I had it my way I would outlaw the use of the word bastard anyway."
  
  Jon tapped Gendry's shoulder playfully. "Don't insult your Prince by not believing him." He added lightly when Gendry didn't react.
  
  Gendry looked at him, clearly a bit overcome. "It will take some getting used to but if I am honest, I really want to become something more than just a bastard. Always have. Let me get my head around this and I will let you know about possible lessons, okay?"
  
  "That's more than fair, Gendry. Take all the time you need. I will be here for you if you have additional questions. Though about the legitimisation, I will only be able to do that if you swear yourself to my cause. Know however that if you do that, you will become part of the conspiracy to overthrow your birth father. I will understand if you will not want to do that."
  
  "Why wouldn't I want that? Hells, where do I sign? He tried to have me killed! That's why I had to flee everything I knew. I really liked apprenticing with Tobho Mott." Jon clearly had struck a note.
  
  "To be honest, Gendry, I do not think that King Robert was behind this murdering spree. I think it was masterminded by the Lannisters. Not that I want to defend the King, mind you. The son of a bitch murdered my half-sister and even my half-brother who was just a mere babe. He had their mother killed and is even now sending assassins to kill my aunt in Essos. If he knew I existed, I would become his target as well."
  
  "What are we still arguing about then?" Gendry asked. "As I said I owe no loyalty to the Baratheons and will gladly swear myself to your service."
  
  "Well, for now, just swear to keep my secrets and help keep us all safe. Decide what you want to do about possible lessons and we'll take it from there. You're one of my friends, Gendry. Take your time and let all of this sink in. I won't have you make a hasty decision only to regret it afterwards. If you do decide to join our cause, I want you to do so with a clear mind."
  
  Gendry just nodded unable to formulate a coherent reply.
  
  Jon stood up "Come on let's find Edric and Sam, I think this would be a good time for a sparring session.
  
  Almost two sennights later.
  
  Again it was Davos standing on the ship's front deck next to Jo. Both were watching the shorelines, now those of Pentos, slowly growing smaller and disappear completely.
  
  "Mission accomplished?" Davos asked him quietly.
  
  "It went well." Jon replied
  
  "And your aunt?"
  
  "She's so nice. It is strange that the Princess is my aunt. She's just a girl the same age as I am. We got along well. But now I feel even more responsible for her. I promised to bring her to Westeros as soon as it is safe." Jon felt a bit shy talking about Daenerys so he kept his answers brief.
  
  "I'm happy for you it went well, Jon." Davos was determined not to pry any further. He knew Jon would open up to him in his own time.
  
  "And Harry Strickland? How did that meeting go?" he was really curious about that.
  
  "Didn't Ser Gerold tell you all about it?" Jon stalled.
  
  "No, I didn't ask him. I preferred to hear it from you." Davos answered sincerely.
  
  "Well, perhaps we should make ourselves comfortable then. Jon sat down on a bench his eyes still gazing at the small stripe of land that would be invisible before long.
  
  Davos followed his example and lowered himself in the empty spot close to Jon.
  
  "You heard about how he came up to our table at the tavern during our second night in Pentos?" Jon asked not knowing where to begin his story.
  
  "Not really. Why did he approach you?" Davos enquired.
  
  "Well, we were seated around a large table, all of us that is Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, Sandor Clegane,
  
  Edric, Sam, Gendry and yours truly of course. I thought at the time something we said must have attracted Strickland's attention. Ser Arthur told me later he had noticed the man studying us for some time before coming over to introduce himself."
  
  Jon hesitated. "Perhaps it was stupid of me but I didn't think anyone would recognise the sword. You see, I was carrying Blackfyre. Well, when Strickland approached and introduced himself, Ser Arthur immediately realised this man was the commander of the Golden Company. When Strickland asked where I got that sword I was carrying, Ser Arthur took him aside and forcibly ordered Strickland to swear upon his honour not to harm any of us. He only invited him to sit down at our table after he had done so sincerely enough to satisfy my Kingsguard and even then not before Strickland had agreed to surrender his own sword for the duration of our conversation."
  
  Jon's eyes wandered briefly to where Pentos had still been visible before they started this conversation. The coastline could no longer be seen with the naked eye. Jon returned his gaze to Davos and resumed his account. "Edric, Sam and Gendry had retired to their room after a slight prodding of Ser Gerold. We tried to give Strickland a censured but moving version of my background. Of course we had sworn him to secrecy before saying anything of interest."
  
  "I believed him when he promised not to betray our secret until we were ready to reveal my true identity to the realm and fight for my claim. Ser Arthur tried to coax him to reveal where his loyalties would lie should money not be an issue, but he wouldn't give anything away."
  
  Jon turned his head to Davos, and looked him firmly in the eye. He really wanted Davis to believe his next statement. "I know I struck a note when I told him about my two dragons at the end. I could read his empathy for our cause from his face although he didn't utter a word."
  
  "What?" Davos couldn't help but react. "How could you do that? He has an army of at least ten thousand men at his disposal. He could easily kill you and capture your dragons!"
  
  "I didn't tell him where they are, or where we lived, Davos." Jon stayed calm. Somehow he had felt he could trust Strickland. "I told you it was a lean version of the story. For all he knows the dragons could be anywhere in Westeros."
  
  "I don't like it all the same", Davos replied.
  
  "They would have to come by ship. You know we have shored up our defences. If an enemy ship draws near, my dragons can set it afire before it has the chance to throw anchor. Don't worry. Even Ser Arthur is convinced that he won't fight against us. At worst he will stay neutral. At best we have sown the seeds to persuade him to lend us his support. Ser Arthur hopes Blackfyre could well be the best inducement to convince him to our side."
  
  "You're not giving up the sword!"
  
  "No Davos, I misspoke. I meant the fact that I am the true owner of the sword, one with Targaryen blood. According to Ser Arthur, the fact that I am only half Targaryen is in my favour as well. The dragons are just the icing on the cake. Perhaps you should talk about this with Ser Arthur?" Jon tried to appease him.
  
  "I certainly will. But first tell me, how did you part company with Strickland?" Davos was calmer now.
  
  "His exact words were and I quote 'I wish you good fortune in the wars to come your Grace. ' end of quote." His tone seemed to imply that he recognised my claim and would not accept an offer to take up arms against us, however much the gold they would promise him."
  
  "That's all?" Davos was not reassured.
  
  "Well, I sort of made him promise that if they approached him, he would contact us first before making a decision." Jon had held on this titbit of information as long as possible and relished the brief look of shock that crossed Davos' face.
  
  "He'd better." Davos grumbled and left Jon's side. He would go and speak with Ser Arthur now.
  
  Several days later
  
  Jon closed his eyes and tried to search for his dragons. His was once more standing at the bow of the ship. Davos had just informed him they would probably arrive at the Driftmark tomorrow and had left him shortly after. Knowing Davos, the man had probably guessed what Jon was trying to do and had given him privacy.
  
  ' Not close enough yet. I will try again later. ' He saw Sandor approach. He smiled encouragingly. He always enjoyed his conversations with the man.
  
  "Enjoying the sea air?" Jon looked at his weathered face.
  
  "Getting used to it." Came the muttered reply. "You will be glad to see your wolf again, boy?"
  
  "I will." Jon imitated his brief conversation style.
  
  "Boring trip. Didn't have to do shit. Why the fuck did I come along?"
  
  "Well, you refused to spar with me." Jon argued.
  
  "You have your fine knights lining up for that. I do not need no fucking cuddling!"
  
  "Whose whinging now?" Jon grinned trying to show Clegane that he was just teasing.
  
  "I'm not whinging." The large man replied trying to keep a straight face.
  
  Jon had anticipated this reply and had his answer ready. "Well to quote a certain friend of mine: your lips are moving and you complain about something, that's whinging ." Jon finished quoting Clegane's own words.
  
  That did it, they looked at each other and both shook with laughter.
  
  After they had both calmed down, Clegane patted his shoulder. "You're alright, kid."
  
  Jon watched him leave, knowing he had improved his protector's mood significantly.
  
  He focussed his mind once more, trying to reach further and further towards their destination.
  
  Suddenly he felt it. It was a light nudge, but it was there. He tried to keep his elation in check and concentrated once more. He emptied his mind and responded to the nudge. Now he could feel the two of them. It felt like they had been dozing but he could feel their excitement building.
  
  Jon looked at the sky. It was very cloudy today and that was perfect for what he was about to do.
  
  'I'm almost home,' he called out to his dragons in his mind. 'If you promise to be careful and fly above the clouds, you can come to me. I would love to see you again.'
  
  He felt them get up, leave the cave and take to the he focussed his attention on the green dragon. ' Rhaegal, when you are close enough, will you let me share your mind, please? I would love to see the sea and our ship from high up. You know I would love to be able to fly as you two can.' Jon felt Rhaegal's positive energy floating through him. He understood that Rhaegal had just agreed to his request.
  
  It was not long before Jon could feel Rhaegal was close enough for him to warg. He had used the time it had taken the dragons to come into range to fetch Ser Gerold. Warging a dragon took a lot of energy and he had promised that if the circumstances allowed for it, he would always arrange for supervision. He had been obliged to admit that when in full warg mode, he wasn't able to protect himself. There was a big difference between just giving mental orders to the dragons or fully warg with Rhaegal.
  
  Ser Gerold stood over him, looking a bit anxious. Jon seated on the now familiar bench on deck gave him a reassuring smile and closed his eyes.
  
  It didn't take Jon long before he was soaring above the clouds. Rhaegal welcomed him. The dragon was really glad to feel their bond again. Jon could sense how the both of them had missed him. They hadn't seen each other for more than three sennights. 'I am happy too. You can come along on my next trip. I don't want to be away from you for so long either. But promise you will behave and not put yourselves in danger.' Warm acceptance greeted him. 'Come on let's take a dive and see what's down there.'
  
  Rhaegal immediately complied, Viserion followed his brother. Jon felt exhilarated. The view really was amazing. The sea reached for as far as his eyes could see in all directions. He focussed east, looking for a ship. There it was. He urged Rhaegal to approach. Then he squinted. Was that his ship? It looked like another boat was down there. Then he saw his own ship. Jon was not well versed in the art of navigating and he was certainly no master at estimating distances and speed at sea yet. His best guess was that both vessels were destined to cross each other before the sun reached its highest point.
  
  He forgot about the danger of discovery and flew closer to determine whether the other ship posed a threat to them. When he was close enough he recognized the banner of the pirates Sam had described to him. He had asked Harry Strickland if he knew who these pirates were and the commander had warned him about them. They were well known and feared in Pentos. They had the reputation of ferocious fighters and were known to take prisoners to sell them as slaves.
  
  What were they doing so close to Westeros? Rhaegal could sense his anger towards that ship and before Jon knew it, he had seemingly given Rhaegal the impression they would attack.
  
  Rhaegal dove towards the ship, Viserion at his tail. Both dragons released their fire, each putting a different part of the ship aflame. Jon felt overwhelmed by the heat that he felt flowing through Rhaegal . 'Up, up,', he ordered them. Luckily Rhaegal complied and soon they were flying above the clouds.
  
  Jon broke the connection to Rhaegal. He blinked a few times and saw Ser Gerold's relief. It was however short lived when Jon immediately cried out: "Ser Gerold, call Davos! We need to change course. There's a pirate ship on fire. It will be severely crippled by now. We need to see if we can save the innocents on board. If Strickland was right, they may be carrying hostages."
  
  Later, when the sun was no longer up.
  
  "What the hell were you thinking, boy? Where you thinking at all?" Jon had never seen Davos loose his composure like this.
  
  "I'm sorry Davos. I apologise to all of you. Is Ser Arthur all right?"
  
  "A fucking Ironborn", Clegane muttered. "Ser Arthur almost got killed saving the cunt of a female Kraken. Don't you fucking look at me that way, boy. That was a dumb thing to do."
  
  "I know," Jon admitted. "It all happened so fast, one moment I was recognising that banner and feeling mad about the destruction of Sam's ship, the next moment the dragons had already decided to help me by attacking." He looked over to his audience. Everyone had shown up for the debriefing.
  
  He tried to justify himself. "I told you I lacked battle practice. I warned you that using the dragons in battle would take some training. Well here is your proof. I need to learn how they react. I certainly will do all I can to teach them to wait for a more explicit order from me before reacting, especially before burning people.
  
  Please tell me how Ser Arthur is doing? Can I see him?"
  
  "He's resting now", Ser Gerold took pity on his Prince. "He will be all right in time. He took a nasty wound to his sword arm. It required several stitches and he needed milk of the poppy. He's sleeping it off now."
  
  "Why in the Gods' names were you fighting on the front lines? You could have gotten yourself killed." Davos looked more worried than angry now. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"
  
  "Just a small cut. I'm fine." Jon looked at Davos with an earnest expression on his face. "I started the battle, Davos. Perhaps not on purpose but it was my fault there was a battle at all. When those pirates charged at us, I could not let others risk their lives because of my actions while I sat back and watched. I was trying to fix my own bloody mistake!"
  
  Ser Gerold tried to be the voice of reason. "Calm down, Jon. Your outburst doesn't help us any further."
  
  Ser Gerold had fought his fair share of battles and knew nothing helped as much to ease a soldier's conscience than the opportunity to talk through his addressed everyone now.
  
  "Let's all sit down and tell each other our part of the battle. This will help us learn from what happened and find ways to coordinate our actions better in future. It will also help us to calm down." Ser Gerold had fought his fair share of battles and knew nothing helped as much to ease a soldier's conscience than the opportunity to talk through his experiences.
  
  What had happened? They had approached the ship and seen the pirates' efforts to try to put out the fire, but the ship was already far too damaged to reach the shore. Two of their masts were completely destroyed. When the pirates spotted their ship they saw their chance for survival. They just had to take the other ship by force. Their numbers had dwindled because several had been killed outright by the initial fire bursts and others were no longer in fighting condition. The ones that were left knew their chances were slim and had fought as if the devil possessed them.
  
  Ser Arthur had followed Jon who had jumped right into the fray. In an effort to shield his Prince he had taken on two men at once. He had been able to hold them off but a third one had jumped in and sliced his sword arm. Jon who fought beside him had prevented worse by stabbing Blackfyre in the attacker's neck. Clegane had appeared out of nowhere bringing several crew members with him. The latter had extracted the wounded Ser Arthur and brought him to Sam. Clegane had stayed and fought firmly at Jon's side.
  
  A few moments later the fight was over. No pirates remained alive. The pirates had fought to the last man. On Jon's end everyone had done their share of killing. Their crew had proven themselves battle worthy. Ser Gerold had shown once more that he was not too old yet and had fought efficiently. Clegane had been fearsome to behold. If they would have kept count, he would surely have had the highest body count.
  
  Edric and Gendry could boast they had lived through a real live battle and had killed a pirate between the two of them. Sam had seen most of this happen from where he guarded the door to the cabin where the Maester, the cook and a few younger servants had been assembled for safety. Ser Gerold had had the presence of mind to shout to Sam to perform that task. He had realised that he had to give Sam an honourable task that kept him away from the battle. The young man's training sessions were not that successful.
  
  Afterwards Ser Gerold and a few crew members had boarded the crippled ship and discovered a hostage who had been brought on deck before the fighting had started. She later told them they had done that because her small prison was too close to the fire.
  
  Jon had been baffled. They had risked their lives for one single hostage? At first glance the woman looked like a low born in filthy combat clothing. But she immediately identified herself as Yara Greyjoy then she had urged them to search below deck for she knew of at least two other female prisoners. They had eventually rescued three women. The additional two they found below deck turned out to be kidnapped pleasure slaves.
  
  When Jon had learned the identity of Yara Greyjoy and realised she was a sister of Theon, member of House Greyjoy the ruling house of Pyke, he had decided to leave the shackles on her hands and feet for the time being. He had ordered his men to lock her up below deck. He would interrogate her later once order had been restored. He had given the cabin Sam, Edric and Gendry shared to the two female slaves and had ordered his friends to put their belongings in his room. It would be crowded but if all went well it would be just for this one last night. They would reach the Driftmark early tomorrow morning.
  
  All the bodies of the pirates had been returned to the burning ship. Rhaegal and Viserion had flown down once more to complete the destruction of the vessel. Soon the ship had sunk. Jon had ordered his dragons back to the shore, reassuring them he would be with them soon. He was coming home.
  
  Then they had given a sea burial to the one casualty they had suffered, according to the man's dying wish. Jon had known him personally. He had helped train him on the Driftmark. He had been a kind man. Jon remembered talking to him about his children. He made a mental note to see to it that they were taken care of. It would ease his guilt a bit.
  
  "It was entirely my uncle's doing." Yara had admitted after some prodding from Jon and Davos.
  
  She was sitting on what Jon thought of as 'his bench' on the front deck, Davos and Jon were looming over her. Ser Gerold stood next to her, watching her every move. Jon could see Clegane standing a bit further away hands on the railing of the ship staring intently into the water. He was trying very hard to pretend that he was not listening carefully to every single word of the interrogation.
  
  "You mean your own family wants to get you killed?" Jon did not feel very favourable towards a sister of Theon Greyjoy.
  
  "My uncle is Euron Greyjoy. He is a younger brother of my father who has left us years ago to make his fortune at sea. Apparently he has been somewhat successful since he told me of the fleet he has assembled. He plans to kill our father and rule the Iron Islands himself. We would be a threat to his claim. He spread the word of a significant reward offered for the capture of his niece and or nephew. The pirates were on their way to Uncle Euron to hand me over and claim the reward." Yara told all this in a boring tone.
  
  "How much are you worth?" Jon baited her. "I could get my hands on your dick of a brother you know."
  
  "Theon, you know Theon?" Yara showed some feeling for the first time in the conversation.
  
  "I know him. Can't say I like him though. I once suffered his company for two sennights when I visited Winterfell." Jon revealed
  
  "What's your name, boy. I want to know who I will offend."
  
  "Never mind my name." Jon said ignoring the fact that she belittled him.
  
  "Well then, tell me at least how you defeated these pirates. I must say I am impressed."
  
  "The fire helped." Jon tried to evade.
  
  "If that was your doing, you should teach me how you did it. When I was brought above deck by the pirates, your ship was still at some distance. How did you manage to set fire to the ship from so far away?"
  
  "And have the Ironborn use our tactics against us? I don't think so." Jon was relieved she had not seen the dragons' initial attack. He had made sure that only loyal men remained on deck when the dragons had swooped down once more to complete the ship's destruction. Yara had already been safely locked up below deck.
  
  'You won't tell me your name. You won't tell me how you defeated a very famous pirate. Will you tell me why I am in chains at least?" Yara tried once more to get some information out of the younger man.
  
  "Just know that I hate the Ironborn. I hate your way of life. You reave and pillage, rape and kill and are are proud of it. ' Paying the Iron Price' it what you call it? How do you even begin to justify yourselves?" He ended his tirade with this rhetorical question.
  
  "I don't."
  
  For the first time Jon really looked at her. It seemed as if she actually meant what she just said.
  
  "What?"
  
  "I have a small following, Ironborn who want to turn away from the ' Old Way' as we call it. We want to settle down and live from trade and do some of our own farming. Trade could make us rich. We are the best at sea. But my father won't support me. I've been trying to recruit more men and want to remove my father from power without killing him. I have even been playing with the idea to fetch Theon one way or another."
  
  She now looked at Jon. "Are you in charge of this vessel? We could strike a deal you know?"
  
  Jon didn't know how to react to this. He just got up and ordered his men to give her something to eat and drink. Afterwards they should lock her up again.
  
  Jon saw Sandor immediately volunteered for the task of escorting Yara Greyjoy back below deck.
  
  He forcefully took her arm and started to drag her away. Jon couldn't hear what Yara said but Sandor's reply rang loud and clear. "Stop flapping yer gums, bitch. We do not need to hear your fucking whinging."
  
  A small smile ghosted over Jon's lips. Leave it to Sandor to provide him a small moment of comic relief. The man really had a way with words.
  
  "Ser Gerold, I'm going to look in on Ser Arthur. I will release him from the company of Edric, Sam and Gendry. I know he will love to have me visit." Jon was in sore need of advice.
  
  Ser Arthur sat on the bed, his back supported by a bundle of furs lining the headboard. He looked at his young charge who sat brooding on a small chair a few feet away.
  
  "Stop blaming yourself, my Prince" he reprimanded. "Use this experience as a valuable lesson."
  
  Jon looked at Ser Arthur. "I pray your sword arm will soon be totally functional again. I want to apologise once more."
  
  "You know," Ser Arthur answered, "I once was hailed as the best Swordsman in Westeros. I do not tell you that to boast, just to teach you something. Even the very best fighter can get killed if he is grossly outnumbered. I can take on two men, sometimes more if the circumstances are in my favour, but I would not survive if several men simultaneously tried to kill me."
  
  He looked over to the young man. "This is a valuable lesson, my Prince. Either you try to find a location where they cannot come at you from all sides, or you fight in formation. That's what we are going to focus on as soon as we reach land. We are going to teach you to fight with one or more fighters backing you."
  
  "Depending on the situation you can fight side by side, or back to back. If you are surrounded from all sides and there are several of you, you can form a protective circle so nobody's back can be attacked.
  
  The more familiar you are with the men fighting beside you, the easier it will be to synchronise your fighting moves. Agree on simple signs so everyone knows in the blink of an eye what to do, which opponent to take on and so on. Perhaps I have been remiss in your training."
  
  "I couldn't have had a better teacher." Jon replied instantly. "I was scared during battle, I'll admit that but I didn't hesitate. I instinctively knew which tactics to use, how to swing when to use lethal force. I would not have been as efficient if it wasn't for you. Your lessons are what kept me alive out there."
  
  "It would have been stupid not to be scared, my Prince. Those men were some of the fiercest opponents I have ever faced. They were as battle hardened as they come. They have spent their lives fighting at sea. What's more they were desperate. Our ship was their last chance to survive. Compared to these men some large battles I fought were a piece of cake. During the Rebellion I faced farmers who had been given swords in their hands and hardly had any fighting experience."
  
  Ser Arthur saw his Prince shift in his seat and tried once more to put the young man at ease. "As a first battle, you have not had it easy. Don't be too hard on yourself."
  
  "It's not about that. It's about how I got us involved in this battle in the first place." Jon said filled with remorse.
  
  "Who is to say they would not have attacked anyway? You said yourself their ship was about to cross ours. If they had decided to attack and they had not been weakened by the dragonfire first, the battle could have been much tougher. No Jon, try not to dwell too much on the what ifs but go forward with the situation at hand. Like I said, it happened. Deal with it. Learn from it."
  
  "I'll try", Jon answered demurely. "Now, what to do about Yara Greyjoy?"
  
  "Set her free? What else would you do with her?" Ser Arthur asked perplexed.
  
  "I have been thinking about what she told me. She claims to have forsworn the Old Ways and has some followers. If we want to sue for peace with the Ironborn and not worry about them attacking our shores, perhaps she is our solution. I'd like to talk to her some more."
  
  "I don't know, my Prince. Don't reveal too much. Perhaps you should let someone else lead the interrogation. If I was her, I would question why a sixteen year old boy is the leader of some very experienced fighters. Do not raise her suspicion and do not let her see the dragons."
  
  "Yeah, about that, we were lucky she didn't see them." Jon admitted.
  
  "If she disembarks at the Driftmark we will have to be careful." Ser Arthur pondered the problem.
  
  "Best put her on another ship immediately. There surely will be one leaving in a direction of her choice."
  
  "You would just let her go? Not try to plant the seeds of a future alliance? You know we have something she seems to want. That pain in the ass Theon is her brother." Jon stressed once more.
  
  "I don't know, my Prince. I do not trust the Ironborn. But let's ask what the others think about this. The Gods know we need to find a solution for the constant nuisance that the Ironborn cause. I would be very glad to never see any ever again!"
  
  "Do you need anything? Can I get you anything before I retire?" Jon asked solicitously.
  
  'I'm not an invalid, my Prince. It is just my arm that's wounded. Now that I'm no longer drugged with that nasty milk of the poppy, I can fend for myself. I order you to leave me alone." Ser Arthur made a move to get up.
  
  Jon immediately grabbed his good arm when he stumbled.
  
  "It seems you will need some more rest before you can order me around again." A worried look belied the teasing words. "Get well,Ser Arthur, I'll see you in the morning."
  
  Interlude 8: You've got mail
  
  Jon,
  
  I hope you're still doing well? I enjoyed reading your last letter. I'm looking forward to getting to know Edric Dayne. We should all meet up sometime. I've been thinking that the Riverlands could be a perfect location. Both of us would only need to travel half the distance. Everyone would think I'm visiting my mother's family and I could introduce you to them. It's really been too long since I've last had the opportunity to beat you in one game or another.
  
  I know you always ask about Ghost's siblings. Well then, it will be your own fault if my letter bores you to death. Once I begin talking about those extraordinary animals, I'm hardly able to stop. If the Gods forbid we ever loose contact, I will have a constant reminder of you by my side. Greywind is my best and closest companion and every time I sense his presence I feel safe and whole. I am even more grateful now I realise that I only have him because of you fighting tooth and nail against the combined reluctance of Uncle Benjen and your guards. Yes, I finally wriggled the entire story from him.
  
  Mother is still not too pleased with you. As I have written to you before, you are the one she blames for every nuisance the direwolves cause at Winterfell.
  
  A few days ago, Shaggydog, you remember the silly name Rickon gave his wolf once he was old enough to do so, ruined a tablecloth, one mother and Sansa had worked on for ages. They had embroidered it with five direwolves' heads. I must admit it is a shame that it is ruined. The embroidered heads were beautiful renditions of our pets. Mother does speak true when she claims Rickon's wolf is the worst of the litter. We've all promised father we would help Rickon train Shaggydog from now on.
  
  I've written before of father's initial reaction to the wolves. You know he was reluctant at first but he has come around. He defends their presence to mother nowadays. He even goes as far as to praise you for gifting them to us. He tells her that she should be thankful to you, that the wolves will be the best protection her children will ever have. Their instincts are impeccable and their loyalty is unparalleled. Last night during dinner, he even told us stories of the Starks of old who rode into battle next to their giant direwolves. And for the first time I saw something in mother's expression that made me hopeful that she will relent in time.
  
  My siblings on the other hand revere the ground you walk on. They are all very attached to their pets. It is strange to see how the wolves adapt themselves to the personality of their masters. It has made me wonder whether there is perhaps another explanation. Did the direwolves somehow choose the Stark sibling best suited their personality? Knowing you, you will try to convince me of the latter.
  
  Anyway you should see Lady. That's Sansa's direwolf. I've never seen a pet that is so well behaved. Lady walks as elegantly as Sansa, she is always dignified never dirty. Arya's wolf, Nymeria, is as fearless as she is. Shaggydog is as wild an untamed as Rickon and Summer is as calm as Bran. I'm not sure I'm the one to describe the similarities between Greywind and myself. I would prefer to wait until you see the two of us interact together and let you tell me. Yet another reason why we should meet soon. I know, I promised in my last letter that I would stop 'whinging' - I like that word by the way - but I am determined to continue whinging until you relent. What I will tell you about Greywind is that he seems to be growing even bigger than I thought possible. I cannot begin to guess how much he eats since he mostly hunts at night.
  
  And how are things with Ghost? Are you doing 'your thing' with him? Never mind, why am I even asking? I know you are! I'd love to see you two together. I have never seen an albino with red eyes before. I can just picture the both of you, brooding together in a corner of your room. So please? I will say no more, at least not for a few paragraphs.
  
  I'm glad there was a sixth puppy. Uncle Benjen told us you found it after you had already decided these ones were for us. You know this makes you a part of our pack, don't you? Wolves have strong family ties. So by adopting a sibling of our direwolves, you've officially been made a member of the Stark pack. I loved the description Uncle Benjen gave us of your direwolf.
  
  I wanted to ask you something though. Perhaps it is all your tales of seeing through an animal's eyes that got stuck in my subconscious, but I have started to have these dreams where I see things from Greywind's perspective. Everything has this yellow hue. In my dreams I run through the woods and hunt game. Sometimes I wake up and the taste of blood still lingers on my tongue.
  
  When you bond with Ghost and see through his eyes, is everything tinted red because of his eye colour? I know it sound ridiculous but I can't help wonder whether there is a chance that what I experience is real and not just a dream and that I sort of 'bond' with Greywind at night?
  
  Gods, I really wished we could just speak about this and let our wolves meet each other as well. I know Greywind would like you. Please Jon, if you harass them at your end and I plead enough here, they will have to give in eventually and I can finally see you again and get some very much needed advice.
  
  Theon has been a pain in my ass again...
  
  The letter went on for a bit. Robb described at length the increased lesson plan he apparently needed as future Warden of the North. He told his father took pains to teach him personally about politics and diplomacy.
  
  Robb ended however as always with a small part that Arya had dictated. She always wanted to send a personal greeting Jon.
  
  Hey Jon,
  
  When are you finally coming back to Winterfell? I really want to introduce you to Nymeria. I am ever so grateful you gifted her to me. I also want you to see how much progress I made with my bow. I am learning to fight with a sword in secret. Robb is teaching me when mother isn't there. He says I am already better than Bran, but I must keep it a secret. Hope to see you again very soon. Robb says you are like an adopted brother now you have Ghost. I really like that idea. So I end this message with greetings from your adopted sister, Arya xxx
  
  Well Jon, that's it for now. Father asks me to sends you greetings from him and mother. I'm sure if my other siblings knew of this letter, I would have to relay theirs as well.
  
  I challenge you to reply with an equally long message and with a firm plan in place to meet soon!
  
  Your loyal but impatient friend
  
  Robb
  
  PS forgot to mention Greywind sends some licks as well.
  
  Jon,
  
  It was nice to receive another letter so soon after your last one. I'm glad you still find the time in your busy schedule to write to me. I enjoy reading about your adventures and no, your letter wasn't boring because of its length. I enjoyed every word and am already looking forward to the next one.
  
  I hope it will contain more stories about those pets of yours, all of them. I love hearing about Ghost. I'm still mad at you for not bringing any of them along. I understand why you didn't mostly, but not about Ghost. Since I have read that you brought him along on the rest of your journey, it seems your excuse that he would not take to being on a ship makes no sense. Your next letter better have an explanation young man! Just kidding. Maybe?
  
  I'm counting the days till you can send that ship for me and my life can become an adventure as well. I have not much news to report. Nothing really happens here. The weather is still as hot as ever. The city is very peaceful.
  
  Have you ever heard of the Lord of Light? Lately some priestesses have come close to where I live to spread this religion. Their most famous slogan is "For the night is dark and full of terrors". It appears they worship a God of fire. Perhaps this God has some affinity with Targaryens? Anyway, I will be searching for a book or scroll about this R'hllor, or Red God as he is also called, so I can send it to you. When I heard their slogan for the first time, I couldn't help but think of that tale I read about the Long Night in one of your books with old folk tales of the North. That Night certainly was dark and full of terrors.
  
  Speaking of your books, I have already read a third of them. The beautiful tome detailing the history of House Targaryen lies beside my bed. I reread a few pages in it every night before I go to sleep. Somehow I like going to sleep thinking about us Targaryens.
  
  I recently received a disturbing letter from Uncle Aemon. It seems trouble is really stirring at the Wall. I hope your Stark uncles are informed of this and have already taken action. If not, will you see to it that help is sent to the Wall? I wouldn't want Uncle Aemon to be in danger. I am praying every day that he will live long enough so we can meet in person one day.
  
  Anyway, I am going to close this letter now so the messenger can be on his way. He will have finished his meal by now. I'm already looking forward to your next letter.
  
  Please be careful and stay healthy. My thoughts are with you every day.
  
  Sincerely,
  
  Daenerys Targaryen
  
  Robb,
  
  Brief message because sent by Raven. I'm planning a sea journey and will leave in a moon or so. Will schedule stop at Stony Shore. Particulars follow soon. Hope to meet you there. Have you heard from Uncle Benjen recently? If so please let me know when you send the raven back.
  
  Your best friend
  
  My Prince,
  
  I sincerely hope this message finds you well. Please relay my greetings to my dear friend, the honourable knight as well.
  
  On that subject, if you allow women in your Kingsguard let me know. I have trained my beautiful daughters well. Talking about daughters, let me know when you start thinking of taking a queen. I'd only be too happy to let you have your pick. You know I have eight don't you?
  
  Everything is well in Dorne. One of my sandsnakes is in the Reach doing her thing. Varys and I are enjoying thwarting Littlefinger as much as we can. I'll let Varys make the effort to encrypt the lengthy details of our scheming and send them to you. But know I played an important part in them. Varys will perhaps forget to mention that.
  
  I fear that somehow we are missing something. We recently found out Littlefinger sent ravens to The Freys in the Riverlands and The Ironborn. According to Varys this was not on the orders of the King or the small council. We were too late to intercept them and have no clue what they contain. Best be wary. I will write again when I have more news.
  
  I look forward to seeing you sometime soon, I heard you have improved your fighting skill somewhat. You owe me a spar, I have a long memory. I will want at least one session with you wielding a longspear! I'll enjoy seeing you bite the dust several times, my boy.
  
  I hope the content of this message will make some sense. That would mean I will have successfully used this ridiculous code that's giving me headaches.
  
  Keep well, my young friend,
  
  Prince Oberyn Martell,
  
  The Red Viper of Dorne
  
  Interlude 9: Renly
  
  Kings Landing, a lavish villa not far from the Red Keep.
  
  ' Perfect, ' Prince Oberyn was congratulating himself. Varys really has come through. Now it was his move.
  
  As the front door opened, Prince Oberyn convincingly charmed the guard into believing he was there on personal invitation of the guest of honour. He was granted entrance at once.
  
  Inside he saw Prince Renly Baratheon seated at the head of the table, flanked by his squire, Loras Tyrell, and a tall knight. He looked again, no it was not a knight. His table companion seemed to be a woman in armour.
  
  ' Varys is right. We will kill two birds with one stone.' Oberyn scanned all the occupants of the room.
  
  As presumed King Robert was noticeably absent from his youngest sibling's nameday feast.
  
  Prince Oberyn studied Renly Baratheon's reaction when he noticed him approach. The Prince didn't have a welcoming look on his face. He just stared at Oberyn with wary eyes.
  
  Oberyn bowed lightly and greeted the Prince. Renly Baratheon couldn't break protocol and accepted the elaborate greeting with a mere nod of his head. He seemed to hesitate but then decided to address his uninvited guest.
  
  "I didn't know we were expecting you, Prince Oberyn. Allow me to introduce my two table partners, my squire Loras of House Tyrell and the lady Brienne of Tarth who has sworn her sword to me."
  
  Oberyn immediately heard the slight slur in these words and realised Baratheon was already a bit drunk.
  
  The introduced couple nodded their heads to him. Oberyn greeted Loras with a cold nod then addressed the lady. "I didn't know Tarth also had the culture of teaching woman to fight as we do in Dorne?" he was intrigued now.
  
  "They don't," Brienne of Tarth started to respond but was stopped by a cold look from Baratheon.
  
  Oberyn tried to break the tension by his theatrical offering of a gift to Renly Baratheon. He saw Prince Renly hesitate before the man stumbled some thanks and accepted the small package.
  
  "You're welcome, Prince Renly. It is the newest smelling liquid our Maesters have come up with. It will be so expensive that few men will be able to buy it. You should try it. It is the best you will have ever smelled."
  
  Oberyn knew Prince Renly was famous for the care he took of his attire and person. He couldn't help but grin inwardly when he saw the Baratheon's immediate interest. Renly opened the delicate bottle and smelled it. A pleased expression crossed his face.
  
  "Don't be shy," your Royal Highness, "Feel free to try it on. Everyone will be jealous as soon as they notice how enticingly you smell." He knew Renly's would relish the opportunity to attract some of this almost exclusively male audience he had invited.
  
  Oberyn used the moment of goodwill he had created. "My Prince, I would like to pay you a visit tomorrow. We both could benefit from better relations between Dorne and the Stormlands. More importantly we can show our brothers that their stubbornness in clinging to these old grudges is stupid and that we, their younger brothers are always the ones cleaning up their messes."
  
  He knew his subtle manipulation had paid off when Renly Baratheon granted him a visit on the morrow.
  
  Prince Oberyn couldn't help but be smug. He had executed his part of the plan flawlessly. He had returned to the villa the next morning, making sure to bring a delegation with him.
  
  Plenty of witnesses had seen Renly Baratheon lying passed out on his bed, next to his young squire. Both men were naked. The room still reeked of sex. Gold cloaks had been summoned and both men were taken to the black cells at the discretion of the King.
  
  Oberyn had put his time at the Citadel to good use. Although he had not had the patience to stay on and forge more links, his studies there had not only given him a good knowledge of poisons, he had also learned about drugs and stimulants. It had been easy adding a powerful libido enhancer to the perfume he had offered Renly Baratheon the night before. The poor man never stood a chance. Oberyn was sure the nameday celebration would not have lasted much longer after he left. Poor Loras looked like he had been sodomised thoroughly and repeatedly. He was sure everyone had observed the squire's red arse and the amount of seed still dripping from the abused hole.
  
  Oberyn had stressed everyone to keep Loras Tyrell's involvement a secret until King Robert decreed him a victim or a guilty party.
  
  Now it was Varys' and Eddard Stark's turn. They would need to convince King Robert to disinherit Renly without killing him. Varys would caution the King about exposing Loras, a scion of the leading house of the Reach and would stall him long enough for Eddard Stark to arrive and use his influence on his erstwhile foster brother.
  
  It was essential to their scheme that the Warden of the North could take credit for the saving of the popular Tyrell's life. He would also take credit for being instrumental in keeping this embarrassment to House Tyrell from being known throughout the realm. Of course most of the credit should go to Oberyn and some to Varys. They were the ones who really had pulled their weight. For Oberyn it was enough that his fellow conspirators knew they owed him.
  
  ' A job well done .' Oberyn praised himself once more.
  
  Eddard Stark would make a seemingly very charitable offer to take Loras north to Winterfell. He could provide him shelter until the rumours died down and the people would be distracted by another scandal. In reality they had taken another step towards their goal to convince the Reach to their side. If need be they had secured themselves a hostage.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter a short stay at the Driftmark will teach Jon many things.
  
  Also: Tyrion makes an appearance.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Rite of passage - part 2
  Chapter 10: A rite of passage - part 2
  
  Summary:
  
  A short stay at the Driftmark will teach Jon many things. Then they travel overland to Seagard where ships will convey them to the Stony Shore.
  
  In King's Landing, Tyrion tries to talk some sense into his siblings.
  
  Notes:
  
  Rite of passage is not over yet, Jon still has 'many things' to learn. The chapter turned into the longest yet. It contains over 18000 words.
  
  A rite of passage - part 2
  
  The moment Jon left the ship, a big white direwolf jumped on him almost toppling him over. Ghost licked his face enthusiastically. Jon let him continue for a short time before ordering him down. The harbour looked busy. Ships were being loaded. Others were discharging their cargo for transit.
  
  The last fifteen years the Driftmark had prospered. Not only had the island seen a substantial increase in trade, the ships that were being built had given every able men who wanted to work a safe and well-paying job. The number of smallfolk had increased. Most families had encouraged their members who had emigrated because of lack of employment, to return.
  
  Jon had become a popular figure. Everybody knew of the little orphan that had come to live among them. When he returned at the age of twelve, they had been wary of the albino direwolf at first. The beast had grown larger than any wolf they had ever seen and the red eyes and white fur made it stand out even more. But the boy and his wolf were welcome everywhere now. Ghost didn't attack their livestock. If anything he helped chase away the usual predators. Besides, the youth kept his animal well in check.
  
  It certainly helped that most of them were aware that Jon Celtigar's northern relatives had a hand in the improved situation at the Driftmark. Jon's easy going personality did the rest to ensure the goodwill and loyalty of the smallfolk. Nobody wanted any harm to come to the boy who had become one of them. They were very protective of him. If some of them suspected he was more than he claimed to be, they kept it a secret. The population of the Driftmark had always been loyal to the Targaryens, most of them originating from Old Valyria themselves.
  
  Jon saw several people stop what they were doing to watch his wolf's antics and greeted them smiling in all directions. He then turned around and went over to join his friends. They had decided to walk to the small settlement. They welcomed the exercise since everyone was still suffering from muscle stiffness caused by the battle. Ser Arthur however was on horseback. His wound was still troubling him. Davos accompanied him, glad to have an excuse to ride instead of walk.
  
  Ghost ran up to welcome Jon's friends and guards.
  
  "Keep your wolf back boy." Clegane grumbled doing his best to act displeased all the while knowing that Jon wouldn't be fooled.
  
  "Ghost, to me." Jon ordered and Ghost immediately complied.
  
  "At least this bastard does as he is told." Clegane approved
  
  "For all I know Ghost's parents were married." Jon joked. Then his expression sobered. "I can't guarantee how he will react when I send him into battle though. He could very well be my fiercest defender."
  
  "As he fucking well should be." Clegane retorted.
  
  "Tell me again why you won't let us knight you? You've certainly earned it. Your quick actions not only saved Ser Arthur's life but probably mine and many others as well."
  
  "I'm good at killing. That makes me no fucking knight. 'Ser' Sandor would have to behave according to all the shit rules of that dumb court protocol. I ain't doing shit like that. If you're tired of addressing me as Clegane you can call me Sandor. What's your fucking problem anyway?"
  
  "I would like to make you an official member of my Kingsguard. I want everyone to see the role you've earned by my side so you get the immediate respect of the nobles and smallfolk."
  
  Clegane tilted his head with a peculiar look on his face. "Well aren't I already a part of it? And here I thought you were planning on improving this shit world? Surely you can loosen up some stupid rules a long dead cunt instated hundreds of years ago?"
  
  Jon's face lightened immediately. "You're not only a good fighter, you're a genius Sandor! As of now you are Sandor, the fourth member of my Kingsguard. I'll have Gendry create some badges for the four of you. I want people to know at first sight that you have an important function very close to their Prince, soon to be King if the Gods will it. Besides, Princess Daenerys gave me some beautiful designs. I'll make an official statement once the badges are ready."
  
  "Nothing too fancy, I warn you, boy."
  
  "Best stop calling me boy though. I'm afraid that's one rule I am going to force on you." Jon teased.
  
  "I'll try, my dearest Prince, but will probably fuck it up once in a while." Sandor teased back.
  
  "I can live with that." Jon laughed now. "It could help if you found a substitute for the word 'boy' though. Put that genius brain of yours to some use."
  
  "You've got company incoming, Jon, I hope you're not too green to handle them." He winked at the youth.
  
  Jon turned his head and saw the two girls they had rescued from the pirate ship approach.
  
  It was not the first time they had sought out his company. Jon was the only one who was fluent in High Valyrian. He let them fall in beside him and listened to their tales of their former life in Essos.
  
  He realised that in doing so, he would be subjected to more teasing from his friends tonight.
  
  Once arrived at the settlement, Jon took his leave from his friends. "I need to make some visits. I will see you later today."
  
  He hurried to the place where he his foster grandmother still lived. As always, she was very glad to see him. After a lengthy greeting, Jon sat down and told her a censured version of his journey to Essos. He dwelt some time on his visit to Princess Daenerys. The old woman was visibly touched and often interrupted him to ask after a description of a dress or how she wore her hair. Jon smiled and tried to do his utmost to remember things he hadn't actually paid that much attention to. He could however tell her of her beautiful eyes and kind smile. He was taken aback by her next question.
  
  "Does the Princess have any suitors? I gather from your tale that she is not yet betrothed? She is of a marriageable age, Jon. It is your responsibility to see her well settled. Remember, you are the head of the family."
  
  "She is not yet betrothed, Grandma. We both decided to give her the opportunity to adapt herself to living in Westeros first. I would not like to betroth her to a man she has never seen. I will not give her away to someone she hates. She should at least get along with her future husband. Anyway I am still wrapping my head around the fact that I can order my father's sister whom she has to marry." Jon tried to keep his tone neutral although he felt very unsettled for some reason.
  
  "So are you not considering yourself, my dear boy?" Her tone was curious but Jon could hear the underlying feeling of disappointment.
  
  "Not you too, Grandma. I admit her husband will be a lucky man. However she is family and I will not force her to marry her nephew. What's more, my advisers have been busy presenting several potential brides for me and husbands for her."
  
  He took her hand, desperate to make her understand this difficult choice. "If political marriages can gain us the necessary support to avoid bloodshed, do you see me living happily ever after with a wife of my own choice knowing full well that as a result of my selfishness thousands died?"
  
  "You are not Prince Rhaegar, Jon. He was already married. You do not have a Mad King for a father. This is a very different situation. The little I have heard of your plans, you have already gained substantial support. Promise me not to agree to a betrothal lightly. Allow yourself the same courtesy as you do the Princess. You should at least get along with your future wife. And that is the last I will say on this matter. I trust you to do the right thing." His grandmother squeezed his hand and then released it. She took the little box that stood beside her on a small table.
  
  Jon was relieved the subject was dropped. He knew the box contained letters from his former wet nurse. He took it from her and searched for the most recent letters. He put them in the correct order and started to read out loud. It was their usual routine. His grandmother's eyesight was not getting better with age and the effort of reading sometimes gave her a headache. Jon didn't mind performing this small service for her. He was always glad to hear how Wylla was doing. He had a fond memories of his nurse. She had returned to Dorne when Jon left for Greywater Watch shortly before his fifth nameday. This way they still kept in touch. She often addressed a small part of the letter to him and Jon would dictate an answer to be included in his grandmother's responses.
  
  A while later Jon left his foster grandmother with the promise to visit again the next day.
  
  It was almost noon when Jon and Ghost arrived at the cave where his dragons were slumbering. Ser Oswell had guard duty and kept a respectful distance knowing full well that nobody could protect Jon better than the combination of a direwolf and two dragons.
  
  Rhaegal was the first to lift his head. He watched his human approach. Jon realised for the first time how large the dragons had grown. He hadn't noticed this when he had looked through Rhaegal's eyes. And later he had only seen them high up in the sky, their shape obscured by the clouds.
  
  He gently stroked the scales on Rhaegal's left cheek. The dragon purred and closed his eyes. Viserion's head nudged Jon's shoulder. Jon smiled "Glad to see you too, Viserion." He petted the silverwhite dragon as well.
  
  Happy but a bit weary he installed himself on the ground, his back against Rhaegal's flank. Ghost sat down as well and rested his head on Jon's legs. Jon enjoyed the peace and quiet for a bit.
  
  Then he closed his eyes and warged into Rhaegal. That was the easiest way to share his feelings about the battle in images and feelings, and prevent misunderstandings.
  
  Rhaegal could feel how grateful he was for their help. How proud he was that they could fly so high and fast, how his human relished how strong and powerful they had become. Slowly he opened his mind further and let Rhaegal feel how he would have liked a bit more reticence before attacking and that Jon preferred to avoid human casualties if possible, even if the men were evil.
  
  The green dragon grumbled a bit at that. Jon shifted his position. He petted his dragon and tried a different tactic. He showed Rhaegal how he himself had made mistakes and learned from them. He also reassured him they all would get better at understanding each other's intentions every time they worked as a team. The next time they would already be smarter. He felt the dragon struggle with the concept of showing enemies mercy, but Jon sensed him trying to consider his point of view. He was confident Rhaegal would think on it some more and share his feelings with Viserion.
  
  Jon planned to revisit the subject with them at least one more time before they left the Driftmark. He would then try to convince them not to attack until he gave explicit permission. He was hopeful they would be willing to adhere to that as long as Jon's own life was not in acute danger. If that was the case, he knew there would be no stopping them, his years with Ghost had taught him that much.
  
  Sometime later he started to talk quietly. It looked like he was talking to himself but he sensed that Rhaegal was listening with his eyes closed. Viserion on the on the other hand could be heard snoring lightly.
  
  "We're going to be travelling together soon. First we will be marching over land. I want you two to stay high up in the sky, out of sight and only come down when you can do so in deserted areas where no humans are around. After dark when we have set up camp, find a discreet place in the woods. I'll do my best to come and stay the night with you. Later on, I'll travel by boat again but this time the ship will stay close to the coast lines. You can follow me and sleep on the shores. I promise to connect with you each night right after dark. You don't have to remember all that. Don't worry. We'll take it one day at a time. For now, let's just enjoy each other's company."
  
  Jon leaned his head against Raeghal's flank, closed his eyes and dozed for a bit.
  
  Ser Oswell woke Jon a bit later. Jon in turn woke Ghost and together the three of them walked back to the small settlement.
  
  "And how was your first battle experience?" Ser Oswell asked.
  
  "Haven't you heard it all ad nauseam from Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur? Jon evaded. "I do not know how I feel about it."
  
  "I heard from them and from several others as well." Ser Oswell answered. "Tell me anyway."
  
  "Guilty about how it started. Proud at how well I could fend off experienced fighters, very troubled about Ser Arthur getting wounded and a crewman losing his life. I am glad to have some battle experience under my belt, not really sorry for the men I killed. I feel ashamed for the fear I felt when they charged at me. I'd say I'm conflicted." Jon looked at Ser Oswell watching his reaction to his words.
  
  "I heard you handled yourself well. You were brave. Battles can have unexpected outcomes. You are not responsible for everything that happens in this world, my Prince. But sometimes you act like it. I could accuse you of being imperious if I didn't know you any better."
  
  Seeing his Prince had nothing further to say he continued. "Anyway, I look forward to the new training exercises. I hear we are going to battle in formation. It will not be boring, that I can tell you."
  
  "Thanks Ser Oswell." Jon said quietly a bit later when the settlement came into view.
  
  "You're welcome my Prince."
  
  Jon saw Gendry in front of the workshop of the local blacksmith. "Hey Gendry, couldn't stay away from the forge?"
  
  "I can't help it. I miss the work I did with Tobho Mott." Gendry inspected some tools. The first time he had arrived at the Driftmark with Davos, he had immediately befriended Jekken, the only blacksmith at this little settlement.
  
  "Then perhaps you could help me out? I would like some items custom made. Perhaps Jekken will let you use his forge when he is finished working?"
  
  "Gendry is welcome here anytime, My Lord", the blacksmith was quick to oblige. He has helped me several times and even taught me a new technique that greatly improves the quality of my products. I'll assist him if necessary."
  
  "Thank you Jekken. " Jon and Gendry said simultaneously and grinned at each other.
  
  "What would you like me to make? My hands are itching already." Gendry seemed really eager.
  
  "I have some drawings and measurements in my room. I'll fetch them. I was hoping you could finish some of them before we depart."
  
  Jon addressed Jekken again. If you can provide Gendry with the ore as well, I will see that you are compensated accordingly."
  
  "I know, I'm not worried, My Lord. You're my favourite customer."
  
  Jon acknowledged this remark with a smile.
  
  "I'll be back soon", Gendry promised Jekken. He followed Jon inside to get the drawings.
  
  Later that evening.
  
  Jon entered the hall where dinner was being served. Somehow, he ended up sitting between the two female slaves they had saved from the pirates. He saw his friends looking at him and heard them giggle amongst themselves. He did his best to ignore them and attempted not to blush at the slightest provocation. He feared he failed miserably at this last thing though.
  
  Clea and Ornella had taken a liking to the dark haired youth. "However do you get your hair to curl like this?" Clea asked twisting one of his dark curl around her finger while she talked to him.
  
  Jon's blush deepened as he gently disentangled her finger from his hair placing her hand on the table away from him. She smiled seductively at him not deterred in the least by his action.
  
  Jon tried to laugh his embarrassment away. "I don't know how to prevent it from curling."
  
  He tried for a more serious topic. "I can arrange for a ship to take you back to Essos in the next few days. Only if you want to go back, that is", he added.
  
  Ornella and Clea responded almost simultaneously. "No!"
  
  "We would just be enslaved again. This tattoo marks us as escaped slaves." Ornella pointed at a small tear that was etched beneath her right eye. "We would never be able to choose our own life in Essos. We've talked it over and would like to start anew here. Perhaps find a job as a handmaid or learn a craft? I am good with a needle. Clea can make beautiful drawings.
  
  "I'll see what I can do for you. I'll talk to Lord Velaryon or his castellan. He has contacts with everyone of importance on this island. We will find you some honest work. Nobody will bed you against your will ever again if you stay here." Jon promised them in a confident voice.
  
  The girls were beautiful, a bit exotic looking but had a pale skin. They would not be so out of place at the Driftmark. The population was a mix of races already. There were a lot of immigrants from Old Valyria with light hair, the original population with brown or red hair and the influx of dark haired Northerners.
  
  "We can even try to help you find husbands. Start a family, have children." Jon offered.
  
  Clea giggled and whispered. "We would both love to bed you for free, just the one time, nobody needs to know. We would like to help you, teach you things, you know. We know more than just the simple penetration act." She leaned closer to him and brushed his arm while staring seductively in his eyes.
  
  Jon was scarlet now. He didn't know how to react. He just sat there looking very embarrassed.
  
  Finally he responded speaking softly so nobody could overhear what they were talking about.
  
  "You do not need to lower yourselves again just because you're grateful to me. You can forget about all that now."
  
  "It would be our pleasure my Lord. We really like you and it would be freely offered. We are sure we would enjoy it immensely ourselves. Or do you already have a wife, a lover somewhere?" It was Clea who asked this.
  
  Ornella saved Jon the need to reply. "Can't you see the boy is as innocent as a new born lamb? We would have to teach him everything."
  
  "Even better," was Clea's delighted reaction.
  
  "Keep your voices down." Jon didn't know where to look. His face felt aflame. His entire body felt flushed. It certainly had a different opinion than his mind concerning this matter. He tried to find a way to extract himself from this conversation without offending the both of them.
  
  "I need to go speak with my friends. I just remembered something," he knew it was a very lame excuse.
  
  They laughed in response and let him escape for now.
  
  "Well son," Davos walked him to his room. He had taken pity on the boy who had had to withstand numerous teasing attacks from his friends and Kingsguards before giving up and deciding to retire for the night. "Would you be prepared to listen to some well-meant advice of an old man who has some experience with women?"
  
  "From you, I would welcome it." Jon used the same hushed tone as Davos had. He was relieved Davos broached the subject since he was in sore need of advice. Talking to Davos would help him make sense of his predicament.
  
  "A man needs to learn how to handle women. You have lived too sheltered." He looked pointedly in the direction of Ser Gerold who followed the both of them but stayed out of hearing range.
  
  "Perhaps you should use the opportunity to fill this gap in your education?"
  
  "I would be taking advantage of them", he objected.
  
  "Not if they offered without being pressured. Not if they liked you and wanted to help you. Is this really the true reason you object?" Davos pressed him. They had stopped at a bench that stood in the corner of the training yard. Davos sat down and gestured Jon to do the same.
  
  "You can tell me anything, I won't judge. I won't laugh. I won't gossip."
  
  "I know Davos. If there is anyone I could speak to about this, it would be you. I'm too embarrassed though." Jon's cheeks had turned red again.
  
  Davos studied Jon closely. "Let me speak for you then. You are tempted, very much so. You can imagine it vividly and are ashamed of yourself. You think you are wanton, you fear you are dishonouring them and you want to stay chaste until marriage. Am I close?"
  
  "Something like that", Jon admitted but still didn't volunteer anything more.
  
  Davos sighed. How to put it delicately and not scare the youth away?"J on, I don't think I known of a male entering his marriage vows without at least some previous experience. If you look at it in a pragmatic way, isn't it better that at least one of the parties concerned knows what they're doing? If you go about it the wrong way, you end up hurting the woman you bed. If that happens on your wedding night, it might alienate your wife from you and you would have to force her each time you wanted to make an heir."
  
  Jon looked rather alarmed at Davos now.
  
  "Do it right however, and the marriage bed can become a place of pleasure for the both of you. Bedding your wife can be a daily occurrence providing satisfaction and comfort to the both of you. Many a political marriage can be turned into a happy one if the man is a generous lover. You could end up with a very loving and devoted wife. I'm sorry to talk so blunt about this but someone needs to tell you this."
  
  "Women can like it? Want it for more than the begetting of children?" Jon couldn't image Lady Catelyn and Uncle Ned coupling for the fun of it.
  
  "Believe me they do. Couples appear all noble and formal in public, but once the doors of the bedroom are closed, all bets are off. That is, if the man is a good lover. A man can take a long time worshipping a woman's body. Do not think of the act as just lifting her skirt and putting your member inside of her for a few moments and be done with it. You need to take your time. The best way is to undress her completely and see to it you are completely naked as well. It will enhance the experience."
  
  "What if I am no good at it?" Jon was out of his depth now, his embarrassment forgotten by this new dilemma.
  
  "Anyone can learn this if he is willing to put in the effort. That's why I'm working my way up towards convincing you to accept the two willing teachers that offered themselves up to you earlier. If a man doesn't know how to satisfy his wife, if he neglects her or if he is cruel to her, the woman can be enticed by other men. Her sexual desires can be awakened by someone who sees an opportunity and she could bear you children that are not your own. I know of a man who is proudly raising his male heir, not knowing he was sired by his rival. You wouldn't want that."
  
  They had reached the building where Jon slept by this point. Davos however was not done talking.
  
  "You better realise that you will be married for a big part of your life. That is if you are lucky. The best way to ensure a tolerable marriage is to treat your wife with honour. The best way for a happy marriage is to treat her with respect, listen to her and gain her love. Satisfying her in bed is a very good start to ensure that. Your good looks and compassionate nature will do the rest." Davos tried to end this awkward conversation on a lighter note. "You do not need to bed them. Just let them explain things to you. There's two of them. They can show you without you having to touch them."
  
  "How would I do that and not let the entire settlement know? Even if I convinced myself that it would be alright to do this now, I would still be very embarrassed if we were discovered." Jon was very tempted but was not entirely convinced he could face the consequences.
  
  "Leave that to me." Davos useful as always had a plan at the ready. "I will have to let Ser Gerold in on it as he has guard duty tonight. I'm afraid that means your other Kingsguards will learn about this very soon but I'll convince them somehow to stop teasing you about it. However we will try to keep it from Edric, Sam and Gendry. I'm sure there will come a time you can be the one to tease them about this for a change. I'll get the girls to your chambers discreetly, after you've had plenty of time to refresh yourself.
  
  "Tonight? This night?" Jon felt really conflicted.
  
  "Yes, before you have time to change your mind. I am not willing to repeat this discussion with you ever again. If you think you were embarrassed....?" Davos winked at him.
  
  The next morning Jon woke really late. It had been a strange, embarrassing but enlightening night.
  
  The girls had been very willing to explain and show him many things. He remembered all too vivid Clea using Ornella's body to show Jon various ways to prepare a woman before entering her.
  
  "Always verify. Check whether she is wet enough down there," she had explained patiently. "She should be as slick as a baby seal. If she isn't yet, get her to relax. Find out which of the ways we showed you pleases her most. Pay attention to her body language and the sounds she makes when you touch each part of her body."
  
  When Jon had stated after some very sensual lessons that he knew enough and that it was sufficient, they had persuaded him to hear them out since they had to tell him a few more things regarding the male anatomy. After a bit more coaxing, Jon had complied and had listened closely when they had described the different positions for coupling and the way a man could hold off on releasing his seed.
  
  Next Ornella had proceeded to tell him of all the ways women could prevent getting with child. It was the first time Jon had heard of a woman's cycle and all its influences on a woman's body and mood.
  
  It had taken all Jon's willpower not to let himself be persuaded to bed them. When both girls had left him with a small peck on his check, Jon had felt the need to release himself. This time when he took himself in hand it was over after a few strokes. He had only needed to picture one of the more alluring poses they had shown him. He was ready to admit now that Davos had been right once more. There had been a lot to learn and he was much better equipped for his wedding night than if he had stubbornly refused Clea's and Ornella's help.
  
  Whether he would be able to face them come morning, he had not been so sure. However next time that the boys would tease him about girls, at least he would have the secret pleasure that he knew at least as much as them, if not more.
  
  "You're late Jon. You were needed before." Sam called out to him when he entered the room where everyone had already finished breaking their fast. Gendry and Edric were eying him suspiciously. Ser Gerold remained stoic.
  
  "I slept really well", Jon replied. "Where is the fire?"
  
  "There's a raven with the direwolf seal. We think it is from your Uncle Benjen. We are all anxious to know what it contains. Hopefully the news will not affect our journey." Sam handed him the little scroll.
  
  Everyone kept staring at him expectantly so Jon relented and read the message before he ate.
  
  He broke the seal and read it. A big smile appeared on his face.
  
  "Uncle Benjen is in King's Landing. He wants to join us on our trip north. He asks to prepare provisions for three additional travellers since he will be bringing two friends with him."
  
  He looked over to Ser Gerold. "He suggests we meet up in the woods near Antlers, the castle of Lord Buckwell. That is between King's Landing and Harrenhal. We were planning to travel through there anyway. The only tricky thing is the timing. He will be there in in five days' time. If I am correct, we would have to leave the day after tomorrow. That is one day sooner than planned."
  
  "Who will he bring? What if they see the dragons?" Ser Gerold remarked.
  
  "It is Uncle Benjen, Ser Gerold. Do you really think he would do something that would endanger me? But to answer your question, no he did not mention names. That could mean they are either just unknown men travelling north, to the Wall perhaps? Or they are very important people and he doesn't want this to get out should the message be intercepted." Jon assumed.
  
  "Enjoy your breakfast first. I'll gather everyone so we can coordinate our efforts to get everything prepared to leave at first light the day after tomorrow." Ser Gerold signalled Sandor to take over guard duty and left to alert Davos and Ser Arthur.
  
  "I wonder who he is bringing along." Sam mused. "Did you know what he was doing in King's Landing Jon?"
  
  "He mentioned something about Prince Oberyn in a previous letter but didn't go into detail. I know the Prince is prone to travel a lot but I cannot think of a good reason why he would journey across the Riverlands and sail to the Stony Shore in our company. It must be someone else. We'll just have to be patient." Jon answered.
  
  Jon took a plate and finally sat down to eat. He was really hungry.
  
  "Jon, do you mind if we get some air before another boring meeting starts?" Gendry asked.
  
  "Of course not, go and enjoy the sun while you can. I could do with some peace and quiet."
  
  Gendry and Edric left immediately. Sam hesitated and decided to stay with Jon for now.
  
  Jon turned to him with a solemn smile. "You can join them outside you know. It will probably be a long boring meeting, they are right about that. "
  
  "Jon", Sam hesitated. "Not to pry or judge you know, but did you, you know, with those girls." Sam couldn't look Jon in the eye his face was very red.
  
  Jon looked down, the smile disappeared from his face and he just nodded. Then he raised his head once more to look at Sam. "Not as you think. I didn't really participate. They just showed me things. Don't tell the others yet please? Let me decide when or what to tell. It was a onetime only thing anyway, a kind of learning experience." Jon's cheeks were at least as red as Sam's now.
  
  An awkward silence ensued. Then Sam nodded solemnly. "I won't say a word but know they suspect. I cannot guarantee they won't pester you about it."
  
  "That's fine Sam. I'll handle their jibes one at a time." Jon gave him a small smile.
  
  "You know," Sam said awkwardly while he rose from his chair. "I think I will join them outside for a moment. I'll see you in a bit?"
  
  "Yes Sam and thanks. You're a good friend."
  
  "You're welcome Jon. I can say the same about you."
  
  Jon returned his attention to his plate and smiled to nobody in particular. It was a beautiful morning after all.
  
  ' It seems Gendry was right once more. It really is a boring meeting. Why do I have to concern myself with all the logistics? Do I really have to help them calculate how many supplies to bring along? What can be procured along the way and so on? The only interesting part is the road we're going to take.'
  
  Jon's mind wandered off for a bit. He knew Ghost was somewhere outside. He concentrated and soon he was outside near the caves. The dragons felt his presence and lifted their lazy heads looking curiously at Ghost.
  
  "Jon! Jon! Pay attention. Where were you?" Davos reprimanded him. This meeting is to plan your journey. The least you can do is pretend to be interested."
  
  "Sorry Davos," Jon excused himself a sheepish expression on his face. "I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night." He looked at Davos keeping his face level to hide his little victory. He had made Davos blush.
  
  The last day before they were set to leave, Jon had spoken to Ser Gerold about his nomination of Sandor Clegane to his Kingsguard. When Ser Gerold had agreed stating the man had earned his knighthood twice over, Jon had needed all his powers of persuasion to get Ser Gerold to set aside the steep traditions he had lived by all this life and make this exception.
  
  That evening, Jon made a small speech before dinner. He officially named Sandor Clegane a member of his Kingsguard and handed the four of them their new badges. Gendry had outdone himself. The badges depicted two crossed swords engulfed in flames. He promised to replace them later with a version that had two dragons at each side facing the swords, but for now these would do.
  
  When he pinned the badge on Sandor, he whispered to the man that if he ever changed his mind, he just had to say the word and Ser Gerold would knight him on the spot.
  
  Sandor had just swallowed and accepted the badge with moist eyes.
  
  The first part of their journey had gone smoothly. A short boat trip brought them from the Driftmark to the Crownlands. They had come ashore well north of King's Landing and had reached the woods near Antlers on schedule.
  
  Soon the tents were set up and they all enjoyed a simple meal. It seemed they were the first to arrive. Now they just needed to wait for Uncle Benjen and his mystery guests. His friends were talking about nothing else. The wildest ideas were thrown into their little group.
  
  Jon had no patience to dwell on that now. He wanted to go see to his dragons. He had felt them land some time ago. He asked Ser Oswell to keep an eye on him as he sat down and warged into Ghost. They were off in a flash, it didn't take them long to find a large rock with the dragons beside it. He ordered Ghost back to the camp and left his warg mode.
  
  "Ghost has found the dragons. It's not that far from here. I will go to them and sleep there. Will you let Ser Gerold know we will be leaving? We can set off as soon as you are back. Ghost will have returned by then and can lead us there. I will take Blackfyre with me as well.
  
  A bit later Ser Oswell returned and was accompanied by Ser Arthur.
  
  "We have brought our tent and will sleep out there with you", the latter explained. "Ser Gerold's orders."
  
  "Let's go then, I am eager to see with my own eyes how they are doing. They have flown for the better part of two days. I want to know if they had sufficient energy left to find food and have everything they need."
  
  They left their horses behind and followed Ghost to where the dragons were resting. Jon had tried to let the dragons do their own thing. It was part of the reason for this journey. They needed to learn to fend for themselves and behave according to some ground rules he had set up for them. He had forced himself not to check up on them and had used this time to enjoy the company of Sam, Edric and Gendry. It was nice discovering new lands with the boys.
  
  "Hello boys," Jon greeted his dragons, glad to see them lying comfortably sheltered by the large carved out rock which provided shelter from the winds. Rhaegal puffed some smoke at him. Jon petted the dragons for some time enjoying his connection to the both of them. When the three of them were done exchanging feelings and felt at ease with each other once more, he installed himself, as he often did, with his back to Rhaegal's flank. He also rested his head against the dragon's warm scales. Ghost installed himself a bit further away and fell asleep almost instantly.
  
  ' And how was your day? ' He entered Rhaegal's mind and together they remembered the last few days. The dragons hadn't been in the air the entire time. Since they could fly much faster as the tiny humans moved on their beasts, the dragons were way ahead of them and had often doubled back, playing in the air. When the sun was at its highest peak they had found a deserted beach with a cave and had slumbered for a bit. There was plenty of game to be had and both of them had eaten well. Jon was reassured. They had been careful. All would be well. He left Rhaegal's mind and sent his approval to the both of them. Then he nestled himself still closer to Rhaegal. The dragon curled his body around him and Jon felt warm and loved. He relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.
  
  The next morning he woke up feeling cold. Apparently Rhaegal and Viserion had just taken off. He could see them fly higher and higher until they disappeared behind the clouds. He saw Ghost and Ser Arthur watching him. Both sat before the little tent. As soon as Ser Arthur noticed Jon get up, he dipped his head inside of the tent to wake Ser Oswell.
  
  "Get ready. We move out immediately." Turning to Jon he said, "Time to join the others and check if your uncle has arrived."
  
  When they entered the encampment everyone was huddled around the fires. It was still moist and chilly out in the woods this early in the morning. The cloud covered sky didn't allow the sun to help things much. Jon joined them and accepted a plate filled with food that Sam handed him.
  
  "No sign of Uncle Benjen yet?" he asked Ser Gerold when he had almost finished eating. The knight was the only one left around the fire. The others had long finished their meal and were busy with chores around the encampment.
  
  "Nothing yet. Perhaps you can send Ghost on a scouting mission?"
  
  "I will finish my plate first, and then I will send him off. As soon as we're done here we can organize a small fighting competition. At the very least the activity will keep us warm."
  
  "I would prefer you to repeat that last exercise once more, the one where you fight back to back with Edric while four men are coming at you simultaneously. Edric is making progress, don't you think so?" Ser Gerold asked him.
  
  "I've told him as much yesterday." Jon smiled. "Even Gendry is making progress if you keep in mind he had hardly wielded a sword before he came to the Driftmark. He still prefers his hammer though."
  
  "Sam however..." Ser Gerold was looking for the right words.
  
  "He doesn't need to become a good fighter. Just try to teach him the basic principles to defend himself. I intend to send him to the Citadel to become a Maester if he agrees and if I can clear it with his Lord Father." Jon really wanted Sam to stay with him.
  
  "Has he given up his idea of joining the Night's Watch then?" Ser Gerold asked.
  
  "He has not admitted it to me yet, but I can see he is tempted. I'm trying to give him space."
  
  An idea suddenly struck Jon. "Perhaps there is a better tactic. Perhaps I just need to set Davos loose on him. If anyone can persuade someone to do something, it is him."
  
  "Speaking from personal experience, my Prince?" Ser Gerold couldn't keep it in. "Two girls simultaneously Jon?"
  
  Jon turned crimson. "Hmm I think it is time I set Ghost on his way", he stammered. He got up and left Ser Gerold ignoring the big smirk on the knight's' face.
  
  Ghost had not immediately known which direction to take. Jon was starting to grow worried. He saw Davos and Sandor approach.
  
  "Something wrong boy?" Clegane asked
  
  "You know I don't like to be called boy." Jon retorted.
  
  "Well do not stand around looking like a little lost boy then, my Prince." Sandor grinned.
  
  "What's wrong Jon?" Davos interrupted their banter.
  
  "I'm just worried about my uncle. He should have been here by now. I told Ghost to seek him out but he seems at a loss in which direction to start." Jon was eager for some advice.
  
  "Simple as fuck," was Clegane's answer. "Send him in the direction of that stinking city, south slightly east."
  
  Jon looked at Ghost and the direwolf sprinted away.
  
  "Thanks Sandor."
  
  "Wait until they are found. Enough time for thanks then." Sandor looked toward the direction Ghost had taken. "Do you mind if I do some scouting myself?"
  
  "Best clear it with Ser Gerold. It is fine by me." Jon said seeing Sandor depart.
  
  "They will be all right, Jon. Your uncle can handle himself." Davos tried to reassure him.
  
  "We do not know whom he is bringing along. It could be two prisoners for the Wall that are sabotaging him as much as they can. He is never late if he can help it." Jon argued.
  
  "It doesn't do you any good to mope about it. Get that training sword of yours and let us admire your fighting prowess once more. I never tire of seeing it." Davos tried a distracting tactic.
  
  "Davos, if you have the time, can you talk to Sam sometime?" Jon now also used the tactic of focussing on other things to forget his current worries for a time.
  
  "You mean talk him out of joining the Night's Watch?" Leave it to Davos to understand him with barely any information.
  
  "Aye?" Jon looked hopefully at Davos. "Do you not think he would be an excellent Maester? He absorbs knowledge as no one I have ever known. I know we would have to convince his father. I think we can appease the man if we send him a written statement in which Sam relinquishes all rights to Horn Hill for himself and every possible issue he might have."
  
  "I'll see what I can do," Davos promised. "Come on, let's get moving. I'm sure they are already waiting for you to start the sparring sessions.
  
  It was almost dark before Ghost ran back into the camp. Jon got up straight away and met Ghost halfway. Ser Arthur cursed and ran after them. Ghost and Jon had set of in the direction the direwolf came from. "Jon, wait, I'm coming with you." Ser Arthur called after him.
  
  Jon stopped sprinting and looked back. Ser Arthur reached him catching his breath. "Why don't you do your warg thing. If Ghost has found him before, he can find him again and a lot faster than the two of us. Once you know they are all right we can go meet them without breaking our necks. If they are in trouble, we will know how to approach them." It was sound advice.
  
  Jon sat down and closed his eyes. Soon he was running faster than he ever had. Trees flashed by, frightened animals hurried off clearing his path and suddenly there was Uncle Benjen. Jon felt Ghost's exhilaration as he jumped Uncle Benjen and greeted him by licking his face. Uncle Benjen ordered him to stop. Ghost complied and looked for possible threats. There were three other humans but they seemed harmless now they had sheathed their swords. Jon focussed Ghost's eyes and looked them over. Closest to him stood a man in his fifties dressed as a knight, next to him a young man perhaps the same age as Jon himself, richly dressed but looking haggard, and... he looked once more, was that a woman? It seemed so. Everyone looked all right. Uncle Benjen patted him and looked Ghost in the eyes. He felt the reassurance through Ghost's mind. He released his connection to Ghost.
  
  Ser Arthur saw Jon come out of his trance. "And?"
  
  "They seem all right. I do not know what the delay was about. He is accompanied by three travellers though."
  
  "Describe them to me. I still know a lot of people in King's Landing", Ser Arthur ordered.
  
  "Well, there is a woman amongst them. She is unusually tall, muscular and dressed as a knight. I first mistook her for a man."
  
  "Did you notice a sigil on her armour?" Ser Arthur asked.
  
  "I didn't look." Jon confessed feeling dumb now.
  
  "Never mind, I do not think many women match that description. That could be the Lady Brienne of Tarth. Remember her from Prince Oberyn's report? She was a sworn shield of Prince Renly."
  
  "Of course, that could be her!"
  
  "Who else did you see?"
  
  "An older man, perhaps in his fifties, clearly a knight. No sigils that I noticed immediately."
  
  "Mmmmh could be anyone by that description but I know of only one knight in King's Landing who would want to come look for you."
  
  "Ser Barristan the Bold?"
  
  "Let's hope so. Who else?"
  
  "A young knight, perhaps my age? He did not look well. He seemed unkempt although his clothes looked expensive. Oh, I saw a sigil on him: three golden roses on a field of green, Tyrell?"
  
  "Loras! Then the scheme worked, although this is much sooner as expected. I hope Eddard Stark can still take credit. This is good news, my Prince. Perhaps the delay had something to do with him?"
  
  "Let's go meet them." Jon led the way taking large steps.
  
  'At least I do not have to run this time.' Ser Arthur hurried after his charge, looking forward to seeing Ser Barristan again. It had been a very long time.
  
  A bit earlier in the woods.
  
  They had stopped to water their horses and were about to continue their journey. Ser Barristan took the reins of his horse and led it back toward the others. Suddenly his horse spooked. Ser Barristan immediately went for his sword. He saw Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne startle as well. A large white animal jumped Benjen Stark.
  
  "Don't hurt it!" he heard Stark call out. "It's okay. This is a dear friend of mine."
  
  Three pair of unbelieving eyes saw some kind of giant white animal playfully slobber all over Stark.
  
  "Down Ghost!" he ordered and to their amazement the big creature complied but still nudged Stark's flank seeking contact.
  
  "Is this Jon's pet?" Ser Barristan asked quietly.
  
  Benjen Stark simply nodded. He turned towards the others. "Don't be afraid. This is a direwolf I grant you, but one that has been raised by a friend of mine from a tender age. As long as you don't hurt anyone he considers part of his pack, he won't hurt you. Threaten me for example and your throats will be ripped out before you can even start to think about defending yourselves."
  
  Loras looked at the direwolf with curiosity. Ser Barristan was glad to see this. The boy had seemed to spiral deeper into a depression as the time went on.
  
  "Can I pet him?" Loras looked at Benjen Stark.
  
  "Better wait till his master arrives. He obeyed me this time but I can't guarantee he will do so again." Stark warned. "Can you guide us to Jon, Ghost?"
  
  The direwolf seemed to consider this but then disappeared as fast as he had appeared.
  
  "He's probably going to bring Jon to us." Benjen answered the unspoken question.
  
  Ser Barristan stepped closer to Benjen. "We just stay here and wait?"
  
  "Let's try and meet them halfway." Benjen Stark turned his head and called out to all three. "Come along! We've almost caught up with the others." He started off in the direction the direwolf had come from.
  
  The next time the animal came back into sight. Ser Barristan hardly looked at it. His eyes were fixed on his two companions. Never mind that his eyes grew moist at the sight of Ser Arthur, he hadn't seen his friend for more than sixteen years, his curiosity got the better of him and he shifted his attention to the boy next to his former friend.
  
  'Rhaegar's son, he truly is Rhaegar's son.' Ser Barristan was sure of it. The dark curls could mislead many but Barristan had been very close to Rhaegar. Besides it was easier if you already knew what you were looking for. He recognised the delicate cheekbones, the firm chin but also the way the young Prince held himself. Ser Barristan couldn't wait to get to know him and find more similarities.
  
  He saw Stark dismount and envelop the boy in a warm hug. The Prince seemed an eager participant. "I'm glad your safe, Uncle. I was starting to get worried." Ser Barristan heard him say.
  
  With effort he tore his eyes away from the boy and dismounted as well so he could greet them properly. Ser Arthur didn't hesitate and made the first move. Ser Barristan received a brief hug and a pat on his back.
  
  Ser Barristan looked his erstwhile brother in the eyes. "Sixteen years and not so much as a secret message", he scolded.
  
  "My sworn vow took precedence. You would have done the same to keep him safe." Ser Barristan saw firm conviction in Ser Arthur's eyes.
  
  He nodded and turned his attention back on Benjen Stark and his nephew. They had finished greeting each other. The direwolf sat beside them keeping a close eye on his pack.
  
  Benjen Stark did the honours. "Let me introduce you to Jon Celtigar and his sworn sword Ser Arthur. I told you we will join his entourage since we share the same destination. It is safer to travel across these lands in larger company.
  
  "Jon, Ser Arthur, please meet Lord Loras of House Tyrell, the youngest son of Mace Tyrell who is the lord Paramount of the Reach and Lord of Highgarden. His father is currently a member of the small council. Lord Tyrell will visit the Starks at Winterfell and will join you for the first part of your journey."
  
  He then turned to the large woman. "This is the Lady Brienne, daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Evenhall on the Isle of Tarth."
  
  Ser Arthur jumped in, wanting to be the one to introduce his former brother to his King. "Let me introduce you to Ser Barristan Selmy, Jon."
  
  Everyone exchanged greetings and the party continued on foot towards the small encampment.
  
  Ser Barristan couldn't tear his eyes from Rhaegar's son until he noticed Loras and Brienne whisper to each other from the corner of his eye. He saw them look at him and arranged it so he could walk beside them.
  
  "Is that Ser Arthur, The Sword of the Morning?" Lady Brienne asked with reverence in her voice.
  
  "Yes it is. Remember the vow you gave Benjen Stark." He reminded her in a stern voice.
  
  "You knew all this time he was alive? You knew we would meet them?" The young Tyrell's behaviour displayed an equal amount of hero worship.
  
  "No to the first and yes to your second question." He frowned. "But I am serious, either you keep to your vows or you will become our hostages."
  
  "Do not question my honour!" Lady Brienne bristled.
  
  "As if I would want to harm the Sword of the Morning!" Loras exclaimed. "Seven Hells, I'll be begging him for a sparring session until he complies." He looked at Ser Arthur a calculating expression in his eyes. "Does that mean that Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent survived as well? I grew up on stories of them."
  
  "Just stick to your vows." Ser Barristan stressed once more, his eyes carefully watching the Prince who walked a few paces before him. His frown was even more pronounced now.
  
  In the meantime, Jon after checking his uncle was in good health immediately questioned him about the reason for the delay. Apparently King Robert had received a raven from Winterfell and had been convinced to release Loras Tyrell into the custody of House Stark. Since Benjen was there, the King had asked him to escort Loras personally instead of waiting for Lord Stark to send someone to pick him up. King Robert was glad to get rid of the young Tyrell and be done with this potentially disastrous business. Benjen Stark had set out almost two days later as originally planned.
  
  "You were already travelling. I couldn't get a message to you," he apologised.
  
  "You brought Loras Tyrell and someone from Tarth? What the Hells, Uncle! The dragons are with us!" Jon whispered fiercely.
  
  "I didn't have a choice, Jon. I was ordered by the King. Initially I was just bringing Ser Barristan and his squire and then suddenly all of my planning was shot to hell. The squire switched mentors preferring to stay at court and the King ordered me to take these two along."
  
  "What will we do now?" Jon asked.
  
  "I made them vow on their honour not to reveal anything they would discover during this trip. I threatened to make them hostages in the North instead of guests if they broke their oath. They promised solemnly not to send ravens or messages without our supervision. What else could I do?" Benjen whispered back.
  
  "Take away their weapons. Guard them until they're far enough north." Jon answered. "I will discuss this with Ser Gerold."
  
  'I'm sorry Jon. I really saw no other way. If you want, we can travel ahead. I need to stop at Riverrun anyway. I'll be sorry to miss your company though. It has been too long."
  
  "Let's talk with Ser Gerold and see how we can keep them separated from the dragons." Jon relented not wanting to miss his uncle's company either.
  
  Wanting a break from this awkward situation, he turned his head to look behind him and smiled at Ser Barristan. The knight took that as an invitation and quickened his step so he could join the Prince and his uncle. Benjen Stark acknowledged his presence with a short nod.
  
  "Ser Barristan, it is an honour to meet you Ser. I've heard many stories about you from my three protectors. I have been looking forward to meet you." Jon said respectfully.
  
  Barristan was catapulted back into time. That voice! If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was walking next to his dear departed friend Prince Rhaegar. He made an effort to formulate a response before his emotions got the better of him.
  
  "It is an honour to meet you as well, my Prince", he said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't know of your existence earlier. I'm ever so grateful that you have been kept safe all these years. It seems my brothers did right by you. "
  
  "They certainly did. I owe them a lot. They have been loyal mentors, protectors and friends. I'm sorry you were stuck in King's Landing all these years. I was told you were very close to my father? Perhaps we can talk about him in private sometime during this journey? There are also a few things I would like to show you."
  
  "I'll be happy to tell you all I remember of your father. He was a very dear friend of mine. Perhaps you will tell me of your youth as well?" Ser Barristan tried to capitalise on this welcoming mood of his Prince.
  
  "We'll find the time," Jon promised. Then he spoke up so his words were for both men. "Uncle Benjen, we're almost there. The encampment will be visible when we take a right turn here."
  
  Brienne watched with amazement how Ser Barristan got a warm welcome from Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold. Loras Tyrell had guessed right. The three famous knights were alive and right in front of her.
  
  She also saw an older man greet Benjen Stark warmly. The man frowned however when he looked at her and Loras Tyrell. She also noticed Jon Celtigar leaving them without a word, taking his wolf with him. Brienne saw them disappear inside a tent.
  
  Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne waited awkwardly until someone would introduce them.
  
  It was Jon Celtigar who reappeared and joined them, bringing three other youths along.
  
  My Lord Tyrell, my lady Brienne, may I present to you my friends? Lord Tyrell, I think you are already acquainted with Samwell Tarly, son of Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill? "
  
  Loras Tyrell and Sam Tarly stumbled an uncomfortable greeting. Introductions continued and an uneasy conversation ensued.
  
  Jon Celtigar kept his eyes on her the entire time and as soon as there was a small pause in the conversation he sent his friends away with the request to show Loras Tyrell the encampment. Brienne decided not to react and waited for his next move.
  
  "Lady Brienne", Jon tried to break the ice, "Am I right that you are a trained warrior?"
  
  "I was a sworn sword to Prince Renly Baratheon", she answered her face darkening.
  
  "I'm sorry for what happened to the Prince," Jon replied. "Why did you come here though?"
  
  "After Prince Baratheon's arrest, people at court either ignored or insulted me. It was rather unpleasant. When Loras Tyrell was released in custody of the Warden of the North, I offered to accompany him. I felt somewhat responsible since they were arrested on my watch not to mention that I was glad to leave the city behind me."
  
  "What are your plans now?"
  
  "See Loras Tyrell safe to Winterfell. After that, I do not know yet. A lot will depend on what will happen to Prince Renly."
  
  "Did Benjen Stark speak to you about our group?"
  
  "He made us vow not to tell anyone any detail of what we might see or hear. We swore on our honour, several times I might say." Lady Brienne was getting tired of justifying herself. "I suppose that is what you are referring to? I hope you will not doubt my honour as well! I solemnly swear that I will not tell anyone that the three most famous Kingsguards whose disappearance is one of the most speculated about mysteries in the realm, are travelling across Westeros for some unknown reason." She sneered at him.
  
  "Nor anything else you see or hear," Jon warned unperturbed by her indignation. "Try not to act so offended. The only reason we have been able to keep their presence in Westeros a secret has been because we take every precaution and distrust strangers who appear uninvited. If you want our trust, gain it."
  
  Lady Brienne immediately noticed the implication that there was still something of significance to be discovered but decided to ignore this for now. She just remarked "Why is it still a secret? The realm still worships these men."
  
  "Not King Robert. He would probably behead them. He still thinks of them as Targaryen loyalists," Jon retorted. "Keep your vow, behave as promised and don't poke around! If you do not adhere to these restrictions a guard will be assigned to you day and night." He warned her once more.
  
  Ser Gerold had drawn nearer to his Prince and heard the last of their conversation. "My lady, if you would please hand over your weapons for the time being. You will get them back in pristine condition, I assure you."
  
  Lady Brienne looked exasperated but had no choice and complied for the time being.
  
  Jon tried to defuse the situation and asked her about her time in King's Landing, of her impression of the royal court and the nobles there. He explained his curiosity by telling her he had never set foot in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Lady Brienne started talking, stiffly at first but encouraged by his insightful questions she slowly warmed up to the topic and to her interlocutor. She was rather elaborate when she described Ser Jaime Lannister.
  
  "He is handsome and has incredible fighting skills but he is arrogant, a snob and I cannot respect a vow breaker." She ended her description in a passionate voice.
  
  "Did you meet his brother, the imp? I have heard it mentioned that he is quite the political mind." Jon asked.
  
  "I did not have the pleasure to speak to him. I only observed him from a distance, my Lord."
  
  Ser Gerold intervened now. According to him the discussion had served its purpose. "My lady, if you will follow me, I will help you get settled in. I am sure you must be hungry."
  
  Lady Brienne followed the knight who assisted her with securing the horses in the temporary enclosure. He also showed her a tent where she could leave her belongings. Then she freshened herself up a bit and joined the others who were gathered around several fires. She gratefully accepted the food she was offered. She would keep her eyes and ears open. This already proved to be an enlightening journey.
  
  Sandor, Edric, Gendry and Sam worked out a schedule to divert their guests and keep an eye on them during Jon's visits with his dragons. The second night Jon brought Benjen Stark and Ser Barristan along with him. It was a clear night and the moon and stars provided enough light for a pleasant stroll. Jon used the opportunity to give Ser Barristan a brief summary of his life so far. Then he showed him Blackfyre.
  
  The knight touched the blade reverently. "If only your father could see you now. He spent his life researching dragons, magic and prophecies. And here you are, not yet counting seventeen namedays and already you are in possession of a long lost Valyrian sword and dragons? I can hardly believe it."
  
  "Well, if you look to your right, your eyes might convince you to believe me." Jon watched Ser Barristan closely. The man froze. Two large dragons lay twenty feet away. Ser Barristan saw the green dragon open his eyes and lift his head a bit. He felt nervous. He was being measured up by a large dragon. "Is it safe to be so close to them? Aren't they dangerous?"
  
  "It is the same as with Ghost I suppose. If you threaten me, or if I order them to kill you, your life is forfeit. There would be nothing you could do to defend yourself."
  
  Ser Barristan saw that Jon was deadly serious. The Prince had not finished his explanation.
  
  "I however am not in any danger at all. They are completely loyal to me. They think of me as their parent. I helped them hatch and I cared for them from their very first day. I would do anything to protect them. If I knew you were planning to harm them, I would not hesitate to kill you."
  
  "Stay here," he ordered Ser Barristan. I'm going over there to join them and rest a bit."
  
  Jon went over to Rhaegal and scratched his scales below his eye. "Had a nice day?" The dragon blew some smoke. "Well mine was stressful." He went over to Viserion who had deigned to open a lazy eye when he heard his human talk to his brother. Jon petted him as well. Viserion allowed this for a short while but then moved his head away and closed his eyes resuming his nap. Jon settled himself into his now familiar position against Rhaegal's flank, closed his eyes and felt his mind relax. He entered Rhaegal's mind and they shared each other's memories of this day.
  
  Benjen Stark watched the scene with rapt attention. "They have gotten so big and Jon treats them no different than if they were large cats. It is amazing isn't it?"
  
  Ser Barristan just nodded his head and watched Prince Aegon slumber between two large dragons. "How do you cope with all this? How do you begin to protect a youth who sleeps between dragons?"
  
  "You should ask your three brothers that. But do not forget that before he celebrated his twelfth nameday there were no dragons and no direwolf, he was just a kind, intelligent boy and a promising swordsman. Ser Arthur really enjoyed teaching him to wield his little training sword.
  
  When the dragons appeared they were not taller than a cat. Everyone had time to grow used to them though I admit we all keep our distance." He smiled.
  
  Ser Barristan stayed silent his eyes still fixed on the Targaryen Prince who appeared to be sleeping now.
  
  Benjen Stark told him softly, "Besides you do not know the half of it. Jon is not simply a Targaryen. He is a Stark as well. Apparently the magic in his blood from both bloodlines gives him a unique ability. But that is Jon's story to tell. If you are interested, just ask him how he communicates with his pets."
  
  Ser Barristan considered their current predicament, his eyes still on the youth amidst his dragons. "Are we going to sleep out here as well?"
  
  "Since I see no other Kingsguard here, I assume you were given guard duty tonight." Stark said drily. Don't worry, I packed accordingly and will keep you company"
  
  Ser Barristan and Stark had set up the primitive tent and were now seated around the fire. Barristan saw Ghost lying next to Stark. The wolf studied him as if trying to determine whether he was friend or enemy. Barristan offered him a hesitant smile and addressed Benjen Stark.
  
  "Is there any use to our presence here? His dragons and direwolf can kill anyone in an instant should they have nefarious intentions. He doesn't seem to need our protection."
  
  "I think you mistake the role Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell have assumed all these years. You and I have accompanied Jon here just to know where he is and to guide him in his actions. In King's Landing King Robert has a small council, a Maester and every adviser he needs. For Baratheon his White Cloaks are just guards to the royal family, nothing more, nothing less. Do not mistake my meaning, it is a vital and honourable task." He quickly added that last bit sensing Ser Barristan stiffen.
  
  "Your three erstwhile brothers are the best guards Jon could have had, but they are more than that. They are his mentors. They are a vital part of his small council. He considers them friends. For a long time when he was younger, they acted as substitute parents to him. My brother, Lord Reed and I for the most part tried very hard to be there for him when he grew up, but in the end the only three who kept him company consistently throughout these years were them." Benjen Stark explained as best as he could.
  
  Barristan's eyes hadn't wavered from the Prince during Benjen Stark's discourse. "Now I am even more envious. The last sixteen years were frustrating as hell already, seeing this however... ," his voice trailed off.
  
  "Well, it wasn't always as idyllic as this." Benjen smiled. "These last few years Jon has butted heads with them several times. And I am not even speaking of all the times we were worried sick about one thing or another. But I cannot lie. It has been a most rewarding sixteen years. If ever a boy showed the potential to become a benevolent and competent ruler, it is him. And I do not say that just because he is my blood."
  
  "He named his dragon Rhaegal?" Barristan asked.
  
  "You should ask Jon how that came about." Stark replied, once more raising Barristan's curiosity. Viserion is the name of the other one. Did Jon tell you how he met Princess Daenerys?"
  
  Barristan shook his head. He really couldn't wait to have another lengthy conversation with his Prince. "Will he stay out here like that all night?"
  
  "I don't know. Ser Gerold informed me that most times he wakes up after a bit and returns to the camp to avoid causing too much suspicion. Only his closest entourage know the dragons exist and are his. Others may suspect there are dragons. Some of the smallfolk at the Driftmark surely suspect as well but you will quickly notice that my nephew has a way with people. I do not think there is a single one here or at the Driftmark for that matter that would willingly harm the boy."
  
  "Just like Prince Rhaegar." Barristan remarked in a nostalgic mood. "You probably do not agree but I've lived with the Crown Prince. He was loved by the smallfolk. He had a way with people as well. He was intelligent but kind."
  
  "Don't tell me," Stark muttered, "Tell Jon."
  
  "As soon as I have the chance I will, trust me."
  
  Both men settled back, a relaxed atmosphere had developed between them. Their mutual believe in the Targaryen Prince cemented their newly formed bond. Two pair of eyes watched over the Prince who should be King.
  
  The third day after Benjen Stark had joined Jon's travelling party, he finally found an opportune moment to do some very necessary catching up with his nephew. Due to circumstances they had stopped and put up camp rather early that day. One of the carts had broken down and the necessary repairs would take some time. Gendry had volunteered his skills to fix the axle and had commandeered a few men.
  
  Benjen and Jon wandered off, Ghost trailing behind them and found a secluded spot where they could sit and talk. Sandor and Ser Oswell followed having guard duty. At Jon's request the latter took up strategic positions well in sight but not close enough to overhear his conversation if they talked quietly. They would also keep other wanderers at bay. Ghost clearly bored left them to hunt some game.
  
  Benjen looked his nephew over from head to toe. "I know I always say this but you have really grown this time Jon. It seems I left a boy behind the last time and came back to find a man instead."
  
  "That's a good thing, isn't it?" Jon gently nudged his uncle's shoulder. "You look older as well," he teased.
  
  His uncle grinned. "Come let's sit down. That tree over there is big enough to support both our backs. My aging bones are getting lazy."
  
  They installed themselves and enjoyed the sounds of the woods. Leaves rustled in the winds, birds chirped and they also heard the occasional screech probably due to Ghost scaring some unsuspecting animals.
  
  Benjen was the first to break their contemplation. "The dragons seem to be doing great. You can control them easily? It doesn't take its toll on you?"
  
  "Always the worried parent," Jon reacted affectionately. "But to answer your question, it is easy. It seems so natural. When I go to them at night, their physical presence clears my mind. I feel safe, relaxed. It is difficult to explain what I experience exactly. It is as if our minds complete each other and we can only be totally at ease when we are together. Try to imagine something like that but more. It is intense, fulfilling. I cannot put it into words any better. I'm sorry."
  
  "It is okay. I get the gist of it. So,no downsides?" Benjen felt Jon was telling only one side of it.
  
  "It doesn't take a toll physically. I have no headaches or anything. It is the responsibility of it all you know. I am the only one who can wield the two most dangerous weapons in the realm. If I start to think about the possible consequences of my decisions, my mistakes, I start to doubt everything."
  
  He lowered his voice even more. "They have gotten so powerful, Uncle. They are so dangerous. You have no idea what they are capable of. I felt their anger when they attacked the pirate ship. It felt as if my entire body was on fire."
  
  "Ser Arthur filled me in. He said the dragons acted on your feelings, not your orders. He said it was a valuable lesson and will help you in future." Benjen tried to ease the guilt that was obviously still bothering the young man.
  
  "Did he tell you about Yara Greyjoy as well?"
  
  "He told me you interrogated her then let her go. Was it wise to put yourself forward like that?"
  
  "Uncle Benjen please, this journey is about me becoming a man, why do you persist to treat me as a child? I have commanded a crew, made decisions. I am learning to live with the consequences of my actions. Not all of it has been easy. But isn't that exactly the point?"
  
  Jon leaned his head against the tree and looked up at the sky. Benjen saw his nephew relax before his eyes and waited for the boy to come back to him. He sensed Jon would continue once he was ready.
  
  Jon broke the soothing connection to his dragons and focused his mind back on the discussion at hand.
  
  "What I meant to ask before about Yara Greyjoy was: did Ser Arthur tell you that she claims she has turned away from the 'Old Ways' of raiding, stealing and killing and wants her people to make a living by trading and farming? She told us she has gathered a following and would like to depose her father.
  
  I cannot help but think she could play a substantial role in our solution for the Iron Islands. Should we decide to help her overthrow her father, we could potentially gain two things. We could install a ruler over the Iron Islands who would owe us and she would help us diminish the threat these raiders represent to our shores."
  
  "He told me she was disrespectful and left without a thank you or a formal goodbye and jumped on the first ship she could find. I don't know, Jon. I do not trust the Ironborn."
  
  Then Benjen Stark brought up a different topic his tone full of rebuke once more.
  
  "Ser Arthur also described to me how you jumped straight into the fray when the pirates attacked and how he got wounded."
  
  When Jon stayed silent, he added. "Grown men can get a rebuke as wel, Nephew. It doesn't mean I think of you as a child all the time. I just worry about your safety. We've flown under the radar until now but if you continue to act as you have done these last few sennights..."
  
  "And you bringing a Tyrell and a lady warrior helps matters?" Jon interrupted him.
  
  Benjen sighed. "I get your point. Let's change the subject for now shall we. I want to enjoy your company for the last few days that we have together."
  
  "You're still planning to visit Riverrun?" Jon was glad his uncle had changed the subject. This was more neutral territory.
  
  "Yes, I had several scrolls from Winterfell and one from the Blackfish, you know of him don't you? He is the brother of the current lord Paramount of the Riverlands, a good uncle of your Uncle Ned. There is trouble brewing in the Riverlands. The Freys are getting bolder. I'm glad you are travelling by ship to the North and will not need to cross The Twins."
  
  "You wrote they refused to pay their taxes to the Night's Watch."
  
  "Not only that, they are blatantly challenging their Lord Paramount by not answering scrolls and not paying taxes to their overlords either. What's more, the small party the Tullys sent out to negotiate has not returned."
  
  "Isn't that out of character for House Frey? I learned they always delay choosing sides in conflicts, only arriving on the scene when bloodshed is over or when they are sure they are joining the winning side. This is almost a declaration of independence, an active opening of hostilities on their part."
  
  "We suspect they are being manipulated and have someone backing them . Perhaps it is a play from the Lannisters to gain more power?"
  
  "Walder Frey would have to gain something substantial from that to risk so much. Could they have promised House Frey the position of ruling house of the Riverlands? Who would be so stupid to trust the Freys not to turn their cloak and betray them the moment things get tricky?" Jon wondered.
  
  "As far as I can see, the Lannisters or whoever are stirring up trouble, are not running any risks. They only stand to gain. If nothing comes of it, they haven't lost anything to begin with."
  
  "Has Lord Reed seen something that can help us make sense of this matter?"
  
  "Not really, he is just one man you know. He is focusing on your safety and possible spies first and foremost. You are not travelling through the Twins. Besides his green dreams have a mind of their own as he always reminds us when we pry too much. I need to talk to the Tullys myself."
  
  "Will you catch up with us later then, Uncle?"
  
  "Not immediately, I will head for Winterfell next and take Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth with me. I am also keen to hear my brother explain in person why he is so worried about House Bolton. After that, if you are still in the North, I will gladly come to your side again."
  
  "Do you mean the Boltons are still complaining about the Wildling raids south of the Wall? I thought the Night's Watch was stopping most of them?" Jon preferred to think of the North as a stable Kingdom that his Uncle Ned had absolute power over.
  
  "My brother suspects House Bolton is sowing discord by trying to convince the Umbers and Karstarks that the Warden of the North is not handling their safety competently and at the same time they imply House Bolton could do better. Ned can handle that. It is their last request that gets his hackles up." Benjen saw Jon's eyes narrow.
  
  "Tell me," his nephew encouraged.
  
  "They have all but demanded Sansa's betrothal to Domeric Bolton. The tone of the message implies they consider it their due as second house in the North and a refusal would be considered a break of trust."
  
  "Surely all Northern Lords would want a marriage alliance with House Stark. I reckon Uncle Ned will have received betrothal proposals from the entire realm for Sansa by now. Robb writes his sister is promising to become a real beauty and that she already is all a lady should be at her tender age."
  
  "It is the tone of the 'request' that angers your uncle. You do realise that should my brother agree to the marriage, the next Bolton heir would have Stark blood. That would strengthen the position of a possible hostile house. The Boltons have poorly disguised their ambition for centuries. It could increase their chances to rally the northern houses to their side if they found a valid reason to discredit House Stark. It could mean the end of our dominance in the North."
  
  "Like Robert Baratheon was crowned after the Rebellion because he had a Targaryen forefather?"
  
  "Kind of. But Jon, trouble in the North would harm your cause as well. I think it is really necessary I travel both to Riverrun and Winterfell and do so in haste. I will leave you once we reach the spot where I need to turn west to Riverrun and you will continue north to Seagard. Do I take Ser Barristan with me?"
  
  "Why would you? I had thought to send him to Princess Daenerys. He is a Kingsguard. She is royal family. But I wanted to let Ser Gerold have the final say in this matter seeing he is my Lord Commander and if Ser Barristan swears his sword to our cause, he would report to Ser Gerold once more."
  
  "Fair point. I just would like to have a loyal man help me care for my guests."
  
  "Let's talk with Ser Gerold tomorrow and see if something else can be arranged to ease your journey. Besides I think Loras will not cause you any trouble. It is a pity he cannot stay with us. He gets along fine with the four of us, with Edric especially. I guess he is obliged to come with you and by taking him, you remove a person we need to hide the dragons from".
  
  "Not to mention King Robert will want to hear the report of his arrival at Winterfell sooner rather than later." Benjen Stark added
  
  "On the subject of King Robert, how was your visit to King's Landing? Did you see Prince Oberyn? Did you talk to Renly Baratheon? How is Jon Arryn doing?"
  
  "Not tired yet of hearing me talk are you?" Benjen tried to get him to lower his guard. He still needed to address the real reason he had been desperate to talk to his nephew in private. He indulged him and started talking.
  
  "King's Landing was in chaos. The arrest of the King's youngest brother had just happened a few days before I got there. I only saw the King on the day I had planned to leave. It was a short audience where I got my orders and was instantly dismissed. I hardly managed a greeting and before I knew it my journey got delayed by two days that apparently were needed to make the arrangements for the conditional release of the Tyrell boy.
  
  Prince Oberyn was not at court of course. When I met up with him at our prearranged spot, he was just really smug and I heard a probably rather exaggerated version of his visit to Prince Renly's nameday celebration and its aftermath. My talk to Varys was more enlightening. I learned the King had hardly been seen at court and not deigned to show up at the small council meetings since his brother's arrest. Opinions about the Tyrell boy were divided and speculations about his fate were reaching monstrous proportions. With Jon Arryn constrained to his bed chambers only the more important matters were put before the small council which brief meetings take place in the Hand's bed chambers during his illness.
  
  Varys arranged for me to meet Lord Arryn. The man looked very ill and deeply troubled. He worries about the succession believing our suspicions about the royal children to be correct. He urged me to convince Ned to come to the capital as soon as possible. He fears his health will not permit him to govern the Kingdoms much longer and he doesn't want to give Littlefinger, the Lannisters, the Tyrells or anyone else for that matter the opportunity to increase their influence on the King. He is afraid Stannis will not step up and protect his brother's interests sufficiently. He also fears for the safety of his wife and young son. He would like to see them firmly in Eddard Stark's care before he dies."
  
  Benjen coughed to clear his throat. His voice was getting hoarse from all this talking. "Ser Barristan had finally gotten the much coveted release from his vows and was eager to leave with us. He didn't want to give others the opportunity to change the King's mind. Varys had warned him Littlefinger and the Lannisters had counselled against it and were still trying to sabotage his departure. It had taken Varys and Lord Arryn days to persuade the King to adhere to the knight's request and grant him safe passage to wherever he wanted to go next.
  
  Benjen looked sideways and noticed Jon was soaking in every word.
  
  "Now it is your turn to open up boy. Are you prepared to tell me the real reason for this trip yet?"
  
  Jon was caught off guard. "Whatever do you mean by that?"
  
  "Oh, you know very well what I mean. Why this destination? Why traipse across Westeros and visit the western shores if you just want to make a sea trip? Why venture so far north? If you only want to meet Robb you could sail to White Harbour instead. That harbour is closer to Winterfell than the Stony Shore and lies on the same side of Westeros as the Driftmark. What are you not telling us?" Benjen had been troubled ever since hearing the exact itinerary of Jon's so called rite of passage.
  
  "I have given my reasons. I wanted to test the dragons in a real battle." He sighed and started again. "Actually, I really want to face the Ironborn if you want to truth of it. For years I have heard nothing but complaints about their raids, many of them taking place along the Stony Shore. You know I hate their way of life and I hate Theon. What better enemy to test the battle readiness of my dragons against? At the same time I show I can help the North which will help to persuade the northern Lords I am on their side. If I had to choose to conquer a Kingdom by force, it would be the Iron Islands without a doubt." Jon wanted to say more but hesitated.
  
  "You could never pull that off without revealing yourself, you do realise that, don't you? And that would not only put yourself in danger, but everyone who ever helped you. If King Robert calls his banners and we are not ready yet, we will have a bloody war on our hands! Gods Jon, think this through!"
  
  "As if King Robert cares about the Iron Islands. What good are my dragons if I let the people of the North get attacked by Ironborn who steal everything they have, kill, not to mention kidnap and rape innocent women and girls? How can I rest at night knowing I could stop so much suffering easily by a single nightly attack? My dragons can be in and out in a flash leaving the enemy's ships burning so they will be too damaged to reach the shore. You should have seen them destroy the pirate ship, Uncle. And they grow bigger and more powerful each day, I can feel it. Rhaegal even suggests I try to fly with him, not only by sharing his mind but by sitting on his back!"
  
  Benjen studied Jon for a while. The arguments sounded true but Benjen was certain Jon understood that what they were trying to accomplish would affect the lives of the smallfolk in all of Westeros and not just a few families living on the northern shores. It had come up more than once in their strategy meetings.
  
  "That's not all. There's more Jon. Let's hear it." Benjen insisted.
  
  "Well, if you really want to know it all, I'm worried about the reports you and Uncle Aemon have given me concerning the Wall. If I could fly a dragon out there, either in warg mode or ride Rhaegal myself, I could scout. I know I can cover a lot of ground without taking too much risk. I can make a difference, Uncle," he pleaded.
  
  Benjen frowned and looked at Jon, his eyes full of concern. "What if I forbid you? What if I beg you not to do something that stupid? Do you even understand what you are talking about? Do you realise how cold it is beyond the Wall? A man could freeze to dead in just a few moments if he is not careful. It will be even colder high up in the air. That is if you could ride a dragon safely. What if your dragons suffer from the cold as well? The Lands of Always Winter are not the right location for a test ride, Jon!"
  
  "I'm no fool, Uncle. It will not literally be my first flight. And if I do venture beyond the Wall, we will fly a bit further each time and evaluate how the cold affects us. I can feel everything my dragons feel when I let them in, Uncle Benjen. I shall sense it the moment they suffer too much and will immediately order them to turn back. Besides they run so hot all the time, if anyone can stand the cold, it will be them." He saw Jon close his eyes and look up to the sky once more.
  
  "They are dancing around each other above the clouds now. I can feel their playfulness." Jon smiled while trying to prove his point.
  
  "Just promise me you will be smart and think before you act. Swear to me that before you just fly off, you will always consult Ser Gerold and or Davos if I am not there." He looked at Jon resolved not to drop the subject before extracting a solemn promise from his nephew.
  
  Jon sighed. "I promise to do so when the circumstances allow it," he hedged. "If it is a matter of life and death and there is no time, I do not consider myself bound by this pledge to seek advice first. I will give you my word though to think things through and to try to keep a level head. I will not act if I feel I cannot control the dragons because my emotions run too high."
  
  Benjen assumed this was the best he would get for now and let the subject drop. It was time for a lighter one. He did not want to end this conversation with his dearest nephew on a discord. He nudged Jon's shoulder. "About becoming a man your journey, is it? Ser Gerold told me about the girls. Is that true Jon? Girls? Two?"
  
  He smiled when he saw the boy blush. "What do you want to tell me about that, my dear grown up nephew?"
  
  Two sennights later, Jon and his following caught their first glimpses of the ships that were ready and waiting for them at Seagard. Three beautiful vessels chosen from the fleet the houses of the Riverlands had commissioned for their cause. They were fully staffed and looked in pristine condition. This was it. Jon felt elated but apprehensive at the same time. He spurred his horse onward, eager to start his next adventure.
  
  Interlude 10: A troubled little lion
  
  Jaime tried not to look bored. He had been standing in the exact same spot the entire morning. The King had not left his chambers as usual. And to think that as a youth, he had always envied the shiny knights of the Kingsguard, knights respected throughout the realm. Some had even songs sung about them. He had been so happy to accept the position granted by King Arys and had ignored his father's wrath and the real reason behind his sire's disappointment.
  
  However, nothing had prepared him for the reality of the position. He could count the times he had needed to draw his sword due to a real threat on one hand. And the one time he did save the lives of thousands, he got stuck with the title of Kingslayer. Even now, more than sixteen years later, he still had to deal almost daily with the disdain and derision of the people he had saved singlehandedly. Granted he could have handled that situation better. He had been so green then and had been overwhelmed by the chaotic entrance of the victors. Men, who boasted loudly about having been victorious in several battles and claimed to have fought heroically at the front lines whereas he had sat in a castle, idle, until he decided to stab his own King to death.
  
  Years later Jaime had been able to think back on the events of that fateful day with logic instead of emotion. He concluded he had been in shock. Back then, he had hardly noticed his legs giving way and how he had slumped upon that damned throne. He still remembered Eddard Stark's disdainful eyes and how he had not been able to utter a word in his own defence. After that his world had lost its meaning. He had kept silent and had seen his dear twin marry a man who called out another woman's name in their marriage bed and broke his marital vows within the first sennight following the wedding ceremony. It had been so easy for her to seduce him in his depressed mood. She had made him disregard the fact that what they did was not only adultery but the worst form of incest. He had been a lost youth who craved love and reassurance. She had offered him all that. Before he knew it, he was in to deep and could not bear to stop their shameful affair.
  
  Such was his life now, standing in the same spot for large parts of the day, trying not to fall asleep. If hearing the Mad King rape his wife while not being allowed to neither move a muscle, nor let his face show his horror and shock when he had only counted sixteen namedays, guarding King Robert's bedchamber had been harder still. Luckily he had not been asked to guard him the nights the King bedded his sister. The Lord Commander showed tact in that respect at least. Yet, that meant he was often on duty when the King entertained several loose women loudly and thoroughly. King Robert seemed to be able to combine being drunk and whoring the entire night better than any other man.
  
  Luckily this watch was almost over. He could see Ser Meryn approach. Jaime didn't linger long after greeting his brother of the Kingsguard. He almost ran to his chambers. But the much anticipated peace and quiet was not to be had. Tyrion was standing just outside his door patiently waiting until he showed up. He was aware he had evaded his little brother once too often. Besides Tyrion was right, some issues really needed to be addressed. He slowed his steps and allowed him the opportunity to start a conversation.
  
  "Jaime, I really need to get Cersei to listen me. Can you not persuade her to talk to me for more than five seconds? The three of us should talk strategies. Our father who normally handles these things is not here. We have to step in."
  
  Jaime surprised his brother with his immediate cooperation.
  
  A bit later the three of them sat closely together in Tyrion's chambers. Jaime noticed Cersei was annoyed and would not start the conversation. Tyrion looked nervous and was clearly still debating how to begin.
  
  "I take it this is not about speculating about father's whereabouts again?" He opened the discussion by default.
  
  "No," Tyrion looked at his brother, grateful for the opening. "It is about dealing with the consequences of his continued absence. Father worked all these years to gain considerable influence and we are just sitting idle while it slips through our fingers."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous", Cersei bit back insulted. "I am still the queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "Of course you are, my dear sister", Tyrion couldn't hide the sarcasm. "You are the mother of the future Kings as well, at least for now. But can you tell me the King listens to you?"
  
  "Do not speak in riddles brother." Jaime jumped in before Cersei reacted even harsher.
  
  "To what do you refer exactly?"
  
  "All right, I will be blunt about it. Did the King listen to our advice concerning Loras Tyrell? No, he is in the hands of the Starks, what is that all about? Will the King appoint a new Hand amidst our family? No, again the Starks are front runners even if they are not lobbying for it at all. Has the King agreed to adhere to your wishes for a Tyrell bride for Joffrey? No, again Sansa Stark has his preference and let's pray every day that the members of House Stark stay as noble as their reputation. I can go on like this for some time you know."
  
  "I still haven't heard anything insurmountable leave that annoying small mouth of yours, dwarf." Cersei sneered.
  
  "I was saving the best - or should I say the worst - for last. I am sure you heard the vague rumours about your children's questionable legitimacy that have started to circle these last few moons? No don't answer that, I'm sure you have. Who else is behind the sudden murdering spree of Baratheon bastards? Of all the stupid things to do! Or do you deny you are behind it?" He stopped to see the murderous expression of Cersei's face change into a guilty one. He shook his head.
  
  "Do you realise that by acting like this, you confirm you are scared of the rumours. You could as well just come out and confess your guilt. By the way, which blond Lannister have you let into your bed, my dear sister?"
  
  He saw Cersei and Jaime exchange a frightened look and almost faltered. He kept it together and accused them. "Incest?! On top of all our troubles, you add incest to the mix? Do you realise what you have done? We will all loose our heads if this is discovered."
  
  "Whose side are you on, 'brother'?" Cersei mocked the last word of her sentence.
  
  "Oh now I am your brother, not just a dwarf who was put into your father's arms by mistake?" Tyrion bit back.
  
  "Stop it, the both of you!" Jaime exclaimed. "Tyrion is right. We need to discuss how to turn the situation back into our favour, see where we stand and find out who is still loyal to us, to the Crown."
  
  "I think you will be disappointed by the short list you will come up with. Whose idea was it anyway to release Ser Barristan from his vows? Another able man who can now be recruited by our enemies. He knows all about the defenses of the Red Keep."
  
  "Ser Barristan is loyal. There was no harm in letting him have an honourable retirement." Jaime defended his former Lord Commander.
  
  He was loyal to the Targaryens before he was loyal to King Robert. Ever think it was the only choice he had to come away with his life that day on the Trident? It was an oath given under duress. You do realise there are still Targaryens alive, don't you? The Princess Daenerys is slowly reaching an age she could make a play for the throne if she found some support."
  
  "You should write children stories." Cersei laughed openly at him now. "You would be good at it. So much fantasy!"
  
  "Think about it Jaime. If not about Ser Barristan, then try and put a list together of our allies." Tyrion now focused on persuading his brother of their current predicament.
  
  "Have you noticed Prince Oberyn has been in King's Landing several times lately but not once has he made an appearance at court? Dorne is still hostile to the Crown and the Lannisters in particular. Stannis Baratheon is no great friend of King Robert. Let us hope your husband will revisit his stupid decision to refuse him his birthright. And let us not forget the debacle with Prince Renly."
  
  He took a sip of wine and continued.
  
  "There is turmoil in the Riverlands, the Reach will become hostile if their daughter will not become betrothed to Joffrey soon. The Vale will keep to itself if Lord Arryn dies and as father always says 'never trust the Ironborn'. That leaves the North with the Starks. I know they have their honourable reputation and have been loyal, but the King and Eddard Stark are not as close as the King likes to boast and I have noticed too many small coincidences. If I had to name the house in the Seven Kingdoms that has gained the most influence and power these last few years it is them. If ever they turned on us, we would have a fight on our hands and hardly any allies to speak of that will support us against that noble House."
  
  "Power, that dreary northern wasteland, are you sure you are not just dreaming stuff at night and waking up thinking it really happened? Have you forgotten the Lannister armies? We still have the largest and best equipped force of the Seven Kingdom," Cersei argued clearly not taking his words to heart.
  
  "For now we have although we are one really skilled commander short," Tyrion agreed to her last statement. "But we do not have enough men to fight a combined force of several kingdoms. As I said, we need to do something to keep the influence and power father has amassed so skilfully."
  
  "And as far as the North is concerned, if you would try to do something else except buying new dresses, and spending the Crown's money redecorating, you could have noticed things yourself. They have increased trade, not only between the North and the Seven Kingdoms but also with Essos. They have more than doubled their glass gardens, which makes them less vulnerable to a boycott or an attack. I even suspect they are building a small fleet at White Harbour. Father always warned us never to underestimate the Northerners. They do not have the largest population but they are made of stern stuff up there and can raise an army that contains brave and fierce warriors. It would be wise to be wary of them."
  
  "Lord Stark would never attack Robert Baratheon." Jaime retorted. "Besides if they turned on us as you say, they would just declare independence. They would not fight us. They would close up the North and be done with it."
  
  "What if you took the honourable Eddard out of the equation? Or worse, what if something happened to King Robert? Their loyalty is to Robert Baratheon, not to Joffrey who looks more Lannister... Seven Hells, they could use the rumours to take the throne themselves!"
  
  "Now you are really making up bedtime stories, Tyrion. What the hell!" Cersei exclaimed not realising she had addressed him by his first name for what might well be the first time in her adult life.
  
  "Jaime," Tyrion gave up on his sister and tried to get Jaime on board. "Do not tell me you have not already thought about some of this. I do not believe you to be so guileless as to think Littlefinger and Varys will side with us the moment we appear weakened. The Tyrells will be among the first to jump ship and the Baratheons, do you not realise that if Robert dies, they could benefit from declaring your children illegitimate? Stannis will declare himself King by lack of trueborn issue of his brother."
  
  "I admit there is some truth in what you say. We need to stick together and come up with solutions. We could ask uncle Kevan for advice. Do you really think we cannot trust Varys and let him help us gather intelligence? What about Grand Maester Pycelle?"
  
  "Not a bad idea to involve uncle Kevan. Let's wait to ask for outside help until we hear what he has to say." Tyrion felt a small spark of hope. Jaime took him serious and had even offered a useful suggestion.
  
  "Are we done?" Cersei interrupted this brotherly bonding.
  
  Tyrion hesitated. "You really think you can influence the King?" he asked his sister after some deliberation.
  
  "Just ask what you want her to do, Tyrion." Jaime's quick retort once more prevented Cersei from giving a harsh reply.
  
  "She could petition the King that House Lannister has done so much for the Seven Kingdoms but has no voice on the small council now that Father has been delayed on his journey and suggest that I fill his seat until he returns." Tyrion knew she would not be happy with this suggestion and braced himself.
  
  "So this has been about you grasping for power all along, hasn't it? Just admit it. You are you finally showing your true colours." she sneered.
  
  "Actually, that is not a bad idea." Jaime's blatant support for his younger brother surprised both his siblings. "You are no fool Cersei. You realise knowledge is power. We need to know what the council and the King are up to if we want to keep our influence. As far as I am concerned you talk your own way in there, but I think we have more of a chance to succeed if you propose Tyrion. You may not like it but he is considered a competent political adviser. This could work."
  
  "Fine", she barely got the word out between her teeth. "I see what I can do. Perhaps if you are so intelligent, you can work on Varys to back this suggestion with the King?"
  
  "Not a bad idea either, sister. Thank you." Tyrion said trying to look serious and sincere. Better not let her read any sign of smugness from his face. He considered this a great personal victory.
  
  "Are we done?" Cersei asked once more. Her bad mood and impatience were very obvious.
  
  "For now." Tyrion agreed and Cersei wasted no time dragging Jaime from the room.
  
  Tyrion took his wine and emptied the cup. He immediately proceeded to refill it to the brim. That arduous meeting had left him thirsty. He sighed. Trouble was brewing. Even the excellent wine could not diminish his worries. He hadn't shared all his concerns with his siblings. He wasn't allowed to bring up the subject of his dwindling investigation into their father's whereabouts anymore. He also hadn't mentioned he was planning on hiring a sellsword to investigate the situation in the Riverlands. He had his eye on a certain Bronn, a guy he had met at the brothel a few nights ago. He knew this topic would be dismissed as insignificant by Jaime and Cersei. They surely would not let him spend money on it so he had stayed silent.
  
  He certainly didn't bring up their financial situation. Tyrion didn't know what to make of the latest report from his overseer at Casterly Rock. Ever since the big collapse of a large section of the mines shortly after the Rebellion, the mining had not been as productive as before. Nevertheless their goldmines had still yielded enough to support their expenses. This last report mentioned that the cost of keeping the mines open almost exceeded the profit they made these days. He would ask Uncle Kevan to investigate the matter. They would have to keep that information within the family. House Lannister's power had grown mostly because of two things, the reputation of Tywin Lannister and their unlimited financial resources. Jaime and Cersei really didn't realise the danger they were in. Two fucking siblings and a dwarf were all that was left to keep House Lannister in power. If you looked at it like that, did they even stand a chance?
  
  Tyrion didn't stop drinking until neither the pitcher nor his cup had a single drop of the sweet Arbor Gold left.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter: Jon will reunite with some family members. The Ironborn attack the Stony Shore.
  
  The interlude will reveal some more plotting in King's Landing.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Reunited
  Chapter 11: Reunited
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon meets family and rides his dragon.
  
  Littlefinger is confident his enemies will go down. Prince Oberyn and Varys disagree.
  
  Notes:
  
  I let the characters do their thing and they acted slightly different than I originally intended. I hope you enjoy it all the same.
  
  Thanks to everyone who is following, adding my story to their favourite list and leaving reviews. It helps keep me motivated to continue this story.
  
  Reunited
  
  Jon watched the three ships navigate the most southern point of the Stony Shore. They were slowly approaching a modern docking place. The long awaited moment was finally there. This was the location Robb had promised to join him. It was even possible that his cousin stood on the beach this very moment watching their ships approach. He hoped Robb had gotten the message warning him of their delay. They were almost a moon behind the initial schedule.
  
  Not everything had gone according to plan. Upon arrival at Seagard, they had intended to set out immediately and sail from Seagard across Ironman's Bay to round the Cape of Eagles to Cape Kraken. After a few days there, they would travel on to the Stony Shore. They had opted to sail with three ships. Not only was it safer and did it give the crew an opportunity to get some experience under their belt, they would also carry glass panes to the North.
  
  The first part of this route was rather close to Ironborn territory. Ser Gerold, Davos and Jon had visited the garrison commander of the fort at Seagard. The man had warned them that fishermen had spotted numerous ships with Kraken banners and had limited their activities to the waters close to their own shores.
  
  To assess the threat, it had been decided that Jon would scout the waters between Seagard and Pyke. Since the sky was cloudless and bright, Jon had not been able to use the dragons for this reconnaissance. Jon had used a raven instead. Through the raven's eyes he had seen what looked very much like a human migration. Close to a hundred vessels were navigating the waters around the Iron Islands. Most of them were sailing towards or between the small isles and only a few of them were leaving. Their guess was that Euron Greyjoy had seized power and was moving his entire fleet to Pyke. Jon surprised himself by hoping that Yara Greyjoy had made it out all right.
  
  They had decided to delay their voyage until things settled down a bit. To encounter one Kraken ship would have been a boon for Jon. To alert an entire fleet of Ironborn to their presence would have been sheer stupidity. It had taken almost three sennights before Ser Gerold considered it safe enough to board the ships and set off.
  
  This did not mean they had been idle at Seagard. The garrison commander had given them leave to use their training yard and Ser Arthur had devised new training exercises. The four Kingsguards fought in formation against Jon and his three friends. The knights never used the same tactic twice and often changed weapons and armour. The boring training sessions were a thing of the past. The four boys also went on small hikes across the countryside and even played some engaging childhood games. Nights around the campfire exchanging tales further strengthened their friendship. On the last night before they continued their voyage, Edric and Gendry paid a visit to the local brothel. They tried to entice Sam and Jon to come along but to no avail. Jon opted to spend the night with his dragons and Ghost. Sam preferred to read a book by the campfire.
  
  When they finally deemed it safe to leave, there was hardly any wind. It had taken them longer to sail from Seagard to Cape Kraken than the voyage from the Driftmark to Essos. They had slowly but safely arrived at Cape Kraken without encountering the Ironborn. Jon had decided to shorten their visit there. The three ships had unloaded a small part of their cargo, mostly large panes of glass.
  
  Jon had used the time to inspect the ameliorations to the defences Lord Stark had ordered. In the past, Cape Kraken had often suffered Ironborn raids, hence its name. Lately however these attacks had dwindled substantially. Jon had taken notes during his visits to the forts. He wanted to send a full report to his Uncle Ned. He had noticed several improvements that could be helpful at Castle Black as well.
  
  During their stay not a single Ironborn ship had been spotted. Soon enough they had continued their journey to the Stony Shore, the long awaited stop as far as Jon was concerned.
  
  As often the case when he stood at the bow of the ship, Davos was at his side. As admiral of Jon's fleet he closely checked the proceedings. Ghost sat quietly at Jon's feet. Jon didn't have to lower himself to pet his head. Ghost had grown to an impressive size. It was possible Greywind would be even bigger. Ghost had been the runt of the litter when the pups were found. Jon wondered whether Robb had changed much. The boy of twelve namedays would now be a young man a few days shy of his seventeenth nameday.
  
  "I started to think we would never arrive. But here we are." Jon said to Davos. "It is an impressive sight watching the ships prepare to dock though, isn't it? As far as I can tell the Tullys have given us top quality vessels."
  
  Davos smiled. Jon had been restless these last few days. He had lost count of the number of times the boy had asked how far they still had to go and how soon they would arrive.
  
  "As an experienced sailor, I can only declare that I am honoured to be given such superior ships to command. The winds were finally with us on this last stretch, my Prince."
  
  "Can I borrow your spyglass, please Davos?" Jon asked polite as always. He accepted the offered object and immediately started to scan the shoreline. "I can see a small group assembled at the landing pier but cannot determine whether there is a direwolf among them." Jon sounded a bit downcast. It was still rather early in the morning. Perhaps Robb would not be up yet. The Gods forbid he could have been delayed at Winterfell.
  
  "Will you let me have a try?" Davos held out his hand and reclaimed the spyglass. He studied the shore and remarked, "Give it a bit more time, we'll be closer then. It could be Robb out there even if there is no direwolf insight. At this distance you might even mistake a horse for a wolf. Where are your dragons by the way?"
  
  "They arrived last night shortly after dark. They found a secluded spot a bit inland and are currently resting."
  
  "It must be nice to be able to check in on them whenever you want. I would not like to have such an invasion of my privacy. Sometimes a man can enjoy some alone time in his cabin. Just imagine if someone could just enter your mind at any time and check what you were thinking or doing."
  
  Jon flushed red and looked embarrassed.
  
  "You have a filthy mind young man. I wasn't referring to that, not consciously anyway." Davos was quick to spell out. They both laughed and a comfortable silence settled between them. Davos used the spyglass again but stayed silent.
  
  Edric appeared on deck. "How soon will we be able to have solid ground under our feet again? I would love to sit around an open fire and not feel everything move beneath my feet."
  
  Ghost who hardly ever made a sound whined softly.
  
  "See Ghost agrees with me. How can a man know when he's drunk if the ground moves when he is sober as well?" Edric finished making his point.
  
  "He'd know if he counted his pints?" Jon teased.
  
  Davos chuckled. He handed Jon the spyglass again and left to find Ser Gerold to check if he had prepared everything to disembark.
  
  "Can you recognise anyone yet?" Edric enquired. Jon's nervous chatter these last few days had given him a good idea what his friend was searching for on the beach.
  
  "Give me a chance to find the correct spot first." Jon muttered but the smile on his face belied the tone of his words.
  
  "Several people are watching the ships approach. Still not close enough to see who they are, and no direwolf in sight."
  
  This time at the word direwolf, Ghost's ears perked up. He stood up and nudged Jon.
  
  "Want me to look again Ghost. You know something?" Jon never disregarded the instincts of his pets. He adjusted the spyglass and focused on the beach once more. "I see a figure running towards the shore. It seems as if someone really wants to meet us. He still needs to cover some distance though. Ah there it is. You were right Ghost that must be Greywind."
  
  Ghost kept nudging Jon's flank.
  
  "All right, all right, I'll keep looking." Jon tried to bring the running figures back into focus. The man and his pet had stopped and seemed to be waiting for some something or someone. Jon moved the spyglass so he could study the spot where he had first glimpsed the two figures once more.
  
  A second four legged creature entered his sight closely followed by another person if he was not mistaken. That person seemed smaller and didn't run as fast. Well whoever they were, they still had ample time. It would take the ships a while before they moored and Jon could disembark.
  
  "You're right Ghost." He petted his wolf affectionately. "There are two of them. You will be reunited with at least two of your siblings soon. I hope you won't forget about me." He softly murmured in his ear.
  
  Ghost stayed glued to Jon's side. His red eyes fixed on Jon's face.
  
  Jon hugged Ghost and scratched behind his ears. 'I know,' he communicated silently in his wolf mind, 'we will always belong together, no matter how many siblings, family members or friends join us. You are a part of me.'
  
  Edric witnessed the adorable scene. It always amazed him how Ghost could snuggle up to Jon one moment only to turn into a terrifying predator the next when he perceived a possible threat to his pack member.
  
  "What's Robb Stark like?" he asked Jon. "Will he fit into our little group?"
  
  "I'll let you find out for yourself." Jon said releasing his wolf. "I think it is time we got off this ship anyway. What do you say Edric, do you want to go get our stuff and make sure we're the first ones to disembark?" He pocketed the spyglass. He didn't have to call for Ghost to follow him. The wolf already led the way.
  
  Jon had hardly taken two steps on solid ground when Arya jumped into his arms.
  
  "Arya?" he hugged her back. "You've grown so much!" He released her to embrace Robb who had also appeared at his side by now. "Thank the Gods, Robb. I'm so glad you made it here! Have you been here long?"
  
  "That makes two of us." Robb smiled and patted his back a few times. "We arrived yesterday."
  
  "Three of us!" Arya yelled as she grasped Jon's arm not wanting to let go of him. "Oh look over there. Greywind and Nymeria are greeting Ghost!"
  
  It was a rare spectacle for Jon. The three large animals were acting as if they were still young pups. They were tumbling on the ground, biting and licking each other affectionately. Soon Ghost had hardly any white spots left, his fur was covered in filth and sand. Jon watched them, feeling sad for Ghost. "You must be used to this sight. I didn't realise Ghost missed out on so much."
  
  He turned his attention back to his cousins and studied Robb. They had reconnected instantly. Sam, Edric and Gendry were good friends but the feeling of belonging he had felt with Robb all these years ago had rekindled the first moment he saw him again. He felt an instant kinship to Robb once more. He imagined that this was probably what having a brother would feel like. Well perhaps not so strange that he had this bond with Robb. He was family after all. 'Gods! He so wanted to tell him that.' He didn't think he could wait another moment. He would tell Robb as soon as they could create an opportunity to talk in private. It was all he had thought about these last few days. But now with Arya here, it would not be easy. He still recalled her constant presence during those two sennights he had spent in Winterfell all those years ago.
  
  "You brought Arya along?" He looked at Robb the confusion apparent on his face. "You never mentioned anything in your messages."
  
  "Surprise!" Arya interjected smiling from ear to ear. She had yet to release Jon's arm.
  
  Robb shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't mean to. Father is mad as hell as it is. She just followed us secretly with Nymeria in tow. We only discovered it several days later."
  
  "Three days, I fooled them for three days!" Arya had yet to speak her first sentence at a normal volume.
  
  Jon turned to her with a serious look on his face. He gently freed his arm, kneeled at her side and took her little hand in his. "Arya that was a stupid risk to take. Do you know how guilty I would have felt and how sad I would have been if something had happened to you?" He tried to reason with the young girl.
  
  Arya started to sputter but Jon interrupted. "I know you have celebrated your tenth nameday but what could you have done if you encountered people who really meant to hurt you?"
  
  "I would have set Nymeria on them!"
  
  Jon had gotten back up. "Even Nymeria cannot take on several grown men at once Arya. Our direwolf's protection is not infinite. An arrow, a sword or even a dagger can hurt them. They are not invulnerable."
  
  While Arya mulled this over Jon questioned Robb. "Why did Greywind not sense this and warn you of her presence immediately?" Jon saw Robb hesitate to speak, probably because of Arya's presence.
  
  "Arya, will you see to our direwolves and tell them to behave, please? They are scaring the people who still need to disembark."
  
  Arya hesitated then examined the both of them. She punched Robb's arm. "You want to talk about grown up boys stuff like you do with Theon. Surely you don't think I do not know you talk to him about girls and coupling all the time. But do not do this with Jon as well, please?"
  
  "We will not talk about girls, I promise." Robb tried to keep a serious expression.
  
  "Well just watch me and see how formidable I am. One little girl will control the three large direwolves everyone is afraid of!" She pointed at the men keeping their distance from the three wolves who were still enjoying their reunion in a boisterous manner.
  
  "I can't wait to see that." Jon laughed. "What's keeping you?"
  
  Arya was off in a flash.
  
  Robb turned to Jon and resumed their conversation. "Not everyone has such a deep a bond with animals than you do Jon."
  
  "Yeah, but Greywind should have sensed Nymeria. Did he stay with you throughout the night? Didn't he seem more agitated than normal, perk up his ears more often, nudge you to try to get you to move in a certain direction? They have many ways to warn you. Every time Ghost behaves like that I pay close attention. Our wolves have impeccable instincts. You should not ignore them."
  
  "I do not ignore them, at least not most of the time." Robb admitted. "Now that you point it out, he did seem more agitated. The perking of the ears might have happened also. But leaving at night, he always does that. I told you about my wolf dreams didn't I? I suspect he hunts most nights. So I did not think that strange."
  
  "We'll have plenty of time to discuss this some more. At least I hope so. Perhaps I can give you some pointers, you know warging for beginners", Jon suggested, his eyes still fixed on Arya's antics with the direwolves. He switched his attention back to Robb.
  
  "I'm really glad to see you Robb! I can't tell you how much I have looked forward to this reunion. I have so much to tell you. Really, you have no idea!"
  
  Don't sweat it." Robb teased affectionately." I am starting to believe you."
  
  "I mean it, Robb." Jon insisted. "I also want you to get to know my friends. You'll fit right in. I hope you have kept up your sword training. We're doing all kind of fight simulations. I bet you would like to attempt to fight off my excellent teachers with the four of us battling beside you."
  
  "That does sound intriguing. And about our talk, you do realise I stay up a bit later than Arya usually, don't you?" He joked but his serious undertone relayed the message. "Finally ready to tell me what your plans are?"
  
  At Jon's questioning look his cousin explained. "Three ships and all because you wanted to see me? I am flattered. If I didn't know you any better I would suspect you to have plans to raid our coastline. If I take father's and Uncle Benjen's interest in you into consideration, not to mention those knights you have guarding you at all times, well there must be some intriguing explanation for it all. I've been waiting for years Jon, ever since Greywater Watch."
  
  "I know," was the quiet response. "It has been hard keeping it from you, but I wasn't allowed to say anything before."
  
  "Better stop it right there." Robb warned. "You are testing the limits of my patience with your hints and we both know we cannot do this here. Arya will be back any moment now. We are lucky to have gotten two sentences in already."
  
  Once more Jon gazed at Arya who was still playing with the direwolves. "Greywind looks amazing. I think he is taller than Ghost." Arya was now attempting to brush the dirt out of Ghost's fur.
  
  Behind her he saw people were still leaving the ship. Gendry was helping two horses to reach the shore. He almost got knocked over when one of the animals spooked at the sight of the direwolves.
  
  "To me Ghost!" Jon yelled.
  
  Ghost instantly obeyed and brought his two siblings along as well.
  
  "Don't be scared." Arya told the young man. "They won't hurt you. I won't let them."
  
  "The horse spooked, not I" Gendry defended himself. He looked at the girl. "You must be a Stark then?"
  
  "Arya Stark. I am Jon's best friend." Arya answered, immediately staking her claim. She had been jealous reading about all these new friends in Jon's letters. "Are you Sam, Gendry, Edric or just a stable boy?"
  
  "Gendry, my Lady," he taunted her, remembering what Jon had told him about Arya.
  
  "I am no lady! And Jon's my dear friend and I haven't seen him in ages and... ," she paused, "Oh, just see to the horses." She turned around and ran back to where Jon and Robb were petting the three wolves.
  
  "I see you met Gendry." Jon smiled at Arya. "Come on, I'll introduce you to my friends."
  
  Robb and Arya followed him. Arya had latched on to his arm once more.
  
  "You will not want to spend much time with them now that we are here, will you Jon? You get to see them all the time already." She pleaded him with her big eyes.
  
  "Don't you want to meet my friends? Mind you, if you play your cards right, they can perhaps tell you some things about me that I am too embarrassed about to tell you myself." It was the only thing he could come up with this instant to make her drop the jealousy act.
  
  Arya considered this and her face lit up. The introductions went smoothly after that.
  
  This settlement of the Stony Shore boasted enlarged docks, two watch towers, a fort and a prospering settlement. The tavern and the blacksmith's workshop had been necessary additions to service the growing community. All these changes were part of the Warden of the North's plans to improve their defenses of the western shores of his Kingdom. Robb took everything in. He wanted to be able to give his father a first hand report on the situation here.
  
  When Arya and Robb entered the little tavern, Davos, Ser Gerold and Sandor were softly talking to Jon about the sleeping arrangements. Jon, Ser Gerold and Davos had been assigned the only rooms still available in the tavern. Arya, Robb and some Stark houseguards had arrived earlier and occupied the other ones. The Stark siblings went straight up to their rooms to give the innkeeper the opportunity to greet his new guests and see them settled in. The rest of Jon's retinue set up camp outside or slept on the ships.
  
  Jon heard Ser Gerold assign the tasks. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell would each take half a night shift. Sandor and Ser Barristan were charged to assign sufficient sentries for the encampment and also arrange the security on board of the three ships.
  
  The innkeeper interrupted. He apologised politely and handed Jon a number of messages addressed to Jon Celtigar that had arrived in the course of these last few sennights. Jon put them aside for now. He would read them once he had taken his belongings to his room. But first he had to inform them of his plans for the rest of the day. That way Ser Gerold could make the necessary adjustments to his security measures.
  
  "I will spend the early evening in the encampment, with Robb, Arya and my friends around a campfire. You're welcome to join us of course. As soon as Arya is asleep, I need a guard beside her door at all times. I plan to take Robb with me when I visit the dragons and will not have her sneak up on us. Greywind and Ghost will surely follow. I am not sure yet how deep Arya's connection with her wolf is, so it will be safer to keep Nymeria locked up in a pen. I presume one of you will follow me and Robb as well even though we will have two direwolves and can take care of ourselves?"
  
  "It never hurts to be cautious, my Prince. Besides an extra person can always be sent back to alert others if something looks suspicious." Ser Gerold lectured.
  
  "I know," Jon sighed, "I really wanted a private moment with Robb though. It felt so good to reconnect with him. I can't really explain it but Robb and I are," Jon paused searching for the right term.
  
  "Kindred souls, soulmates?" Davos offered.
  
  A warm smile crossed Jon's face. "Thank you, Davos." Jon stayed quiet after that.
  
  Sandor stood up and broke the spell. "Best go see about those guards." He left the room taking Ser Barristan with him.
  
  "Come on Jon," Davos encouraged him. Go get yourself settled in your room and read those messages. When you're done we can enjoy ourselves around a fire and eat that warm meal the innkeeper promised us.
  
  "A walk Jon, at this time of night?" It had been a long day and Robb was tired.
  
  "Trust me, what I have to show you at the end of our little excursion will be worth it." Jon tried to persuade his cousin.
  
  "I warn you, it must be something out of this world for that to do the trick. I had a long day Jon."
  
  "Well, I could hold off on telling you everything for a few days if you really want to go to bed." Jon baited.
  
  "And here I had imagined us sitting comfortably around a fire with a large pint of ale, me listening quietly while you spilled it all. That way the only effort on my part would have been trying to stay awake when you would inevitably start to bore me."
  
  "I'll start to spill the moment we're out of sight and hearing range. So the faster you start walking, the sooner I can start talking."
  
  "Why didn't you say so before?" Robb got up. "Where to Jon?"
  
  "Follow me," Jon said and the two boys walked towards the woods. Ser Oswell followed close behind.
  
  "Robb, before I start, please know you are my best," Jon was forced to stop because Robb cut in.
  
  "I know Jon, best friend, don't be mad, couldn't tell sooner, blah blah blah. You can skip that part. I know all that already. Suspected it for years. Just spill."
  
  Jon took a deep breath. "I never told you who my mother was. We are related Robb."
  
  "We are?"
  
  "I am the son of your aunt, Lyanna Stark. I am your cousin. Uncle Benjen really is my uncle and your father is my uncle as well."
  
  "That's what they told you when you were staying at Winterfell with us when you were twelve? Why is that such a big a secret? Cousins hey," he nudged Jon. "I often speculated you know. You look so much like Arya. I once dreamt you were my brother, but that didn't make sense because my father would never dishonour mother and you are not a bastard. It was a ridiculous dream. But brothers would have been nice. I'll settle for cousins though."
  
  "Cousins can be as close as brothers. We certainly can." A hesitant smile appeared on Jon's face. "Hold that thought though because there is more."
  
  "Duh, if there weren't you would have told me years ago. Who did aunt Lyanna marry?"
  
  "Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon answered quietly. Seeing the shock on Robb's face he quickly continued. "It isn't what you imagine. They loved each other. She eloped. Your aunt Lyanna I am told, was exactly like Arya. Nobody could force her to do anything against her will. She eloped to escape the betrothal with Robert Baratheon. She had fallen in love with my father."
  
  "If that is true, why didn't they just tell everyone? Why let the lies explode into a fucking Rebellion?" Robb frowned. "It doesn't make sense!"
  
  Jon explained as best he could what he knew about the Rebellion and its aftermath.
  
  Robb stood there like a statue. They had stopped walking the moment Jon had mentioned Prince Rhaegar.
  
  Jon hesitantly touched Robb's arm. "Hey, I'm still me. I know it is a shock but I'm still your friend." Getting no reaction he tried to reach Robb once more. "You promised me that you would always keep that in mind. I distinctly remember you saying blah blah blah."
  
  Jon had underestimated Robb's reaction. He had been so confident that his cousin would understand. He had really hoped that Robb would just hug him and tell him everything was still the same. Now he felt stupid and afraid. 'I should have been more considerate. Eased him into it not just dump it on him like that. Is it even wise to show him the dragons now?' Jon's mind raced trying to think of a way to get Robb to understand.
  
  Unsure what to do next he looked at Ser Oswell. The knight had a worried look on his face but kept his distance.
  
  "Robb? Hey, you are scaring me here." Was another of Jon's desperate attempts to get a better reaction out of his cousin.
  
  "Just let me rap my mind around this. You've had years. I've only had a few moments." Came the terse retort.
  
  "At least let's resume our walk. I've promised them I would arrive shortly." Jon said softly.
  
  "Them? Are we going to meet someone? Come on, Jon. This is no longer the time for mysteries. Better come clean so I know all I'll have to deal with." This was a different Robb than the warm friend Jon was used to.
  
  Jon hesitated but decided nothing but the truth would do now. "Well, I am a Targaryen and a Stark. I have a direwolf but I also have..."
  
  "A dragon? No fucking way." He looked at Jon. "I was kidding! No? I was right? You have a living and breathing dragon?"
  
  "Two actually." Jon admitted it was all or nothing now anyway.
  
  "Do we still have far to go?" Robb had started walking again.
  
  "No, but when we are there, let me approach them. You'll need to stay put where I'll tell you to."
  
  Robb nodded and scanned the direct environment. "They are just out here in the open? How do you keep them a secret then? I've heard no rumours whatsoever. Are they rather small dragons?"
  
  "Well give it a moment and you'll see for yourself." Jon sent a reassuring greeting to Rhaegal and Viserion. They could sense his agitation and would not react well to Robb if he didn't let them know explicitly that the human he brought posed no threat.
  
  "By the Old Gods they are large!" Robb exclaimed. He saw the silverwhite dragon first. The green one with beautiful bronze spots was better disguised by the thick brushes they used as shelter for the wind.
  
  "Do not step any closer. Just sit down here. I'm going over to say hello. I haven't been able to pet them since we left Seagard." Jon urged him quietly.
  
  "How did you know where to find them? No, do not answer that. That is a dumb question. You bonded with such powerful beasts?"
  
  "I started when they were smaller than a cat and could hardly puff a bit of smoke. When they got bigger they were already used to me. They consider me their parent. I am kind of a father of dragons. Our bond is really strong now."
  
  "Can they really spit fire?"
  
  Threaten me and you're toast." Jon said lightly but was still worried. Ever since he had let it drop that Rhaegar Targaryen was his father, he had not stopped evaluating Robb's reaction his uneasiness growing by leaps and bounds.
  
  Jon stood between the two dragons, glad for their company yet all the while worrying how outlandish this all must look to Robb. He really longed to assume his habitual position against Rhaegal's flank, close his eyes and share his mind but hesitated.
  
  Ser Oswell who had closely watched the boys' interaction had grown rather worried as well. Stark looked almost white with shock, the confusion evident on his face and his Prince seemed on the verge of losing his composure. He decided to step in. "Lord Stark? Let's install ourselves over there. I'll make a fire. Let Jon say hello to them in private. He has missed their physical closeness these last few days."
  
  Robb hesitated to turn his back on the two potentially dangerous creatures but complied. He sat down close to the spot where Ser Oswell was piling some wood. He tried to focus on something else and studied the knight in front of him. "You were Kingsguard to King Aerys II?"
  
  "I was. Do you realise you've received sword fighting lessons from the Sword of the Morning when you were twelve?" Ser Oswell tried to introduce a neutral topic.
  
  "No wonder Theon never beat me again when I returned." Robb forced a small smile. At least there was a nice side effect to this confusing business.
  
  Ser Oswell now had a fire going. Both men settled a bit closer to the warmth. Robb looked behind him and saw Jon leaning back against the green dragon. His eyes were closed.
  
  "Is he sleeping or is he, you know?" Robb sighed.
  
  "He is relaxing and the three of them are sharing their experiences from the last sennight or so. It always makes him feel better when he can do that."
  
  At the frown on Rob's face he ventured, "Don't be too hard on him. He didn't choose who his parents were. He didn't start the Rebellion."
  
  "It is al so fucked up. Targaryens killed my Grandfather and Uncle. Prince Rhaegar supposedly raped my aunt."
  
  "He didn't rape her. Can you imagine Jon being a rapist?"
  
  Ser Oswell saw Robb shake his head without hesitation.
  
  "Well, Prince Rhaegar had the same disposition as Jon. Suspecting the Crown Prince of rape is just as ridiculous to all of us that knew him. You have an eyewitness sitting in front of you. I guarded Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna in Dorne. I saw them live together as man and wife. They had a passionate relationship. I also was present at their marriage ceremony. Jon didn't lie to you. He didn't embellish anything. You can ask your father. He knows some of these things first hand. Jon can only repeat what he was told."
  
  "But still? King Aerys killed my grandfather and Uncle Brandon."
  
  "King Aerys was called the Mad King for a reason and Brandon Stark could have been a bit more diplomatic. Not that I defend what King Aerys did. Prince Rhaegar was putting a plan in place to depose his father, but had to be careful. King Aerys could not get wind of his plot since he held Prince Rhaegar's wife and children as virtual hostages in the Red Keep to keep his son in line."
  
  Robb did not react.
  
  Ser Oswell tried once more. "How can you blame Jon for something that happened before he was even born?"
  
  "I don't. Not really. But the word Targaryen has a negative connotation in my mind, at least the recent generation of Targaryens. I can't rhyme that with Jon. Not at the moment. And on top of all that, he is a not just an every day Targaryen. No, he is one with two large fire breathing dragons."
  
  "Would you have preferred not to know?" Ser Oswell enquired softly
  
  "No. I don't know? How long do we have to stay out here?" Robb could feel his irritation building. He was tired. He just wanted to be left alone and get some sleep. He would think about all of this some other time.
  
  "Do you reckon you can find your way back alone?"
  
  "No! Does that mean that Jon intends to stay out here all night?"
  
  "He does sometimes. I am sure he wasn't planning to tonight though. Stay here and let me fetch him."
  
  It seemed to Robb that he had just closed his eyes for a short moment when Ser Oswell and Jon were before him putting out the fire.
  
  "Come on. Your beds await. We'll be back at the tavern in no time if only we can get started," Ser Oswell encouraged both boys.
  
  The three of them walked at a swift pace and returned to the tavern in silence.
  
  When they neared the encampment Jon addressed Robb. "I hope you get a good night's rest, Robb. I'll see you in the morning?"
  
  "I think I shall sleep in. I'm exhausted. I will have several questions for you later tomorrow though. We will need to hold off Arya." Robb said a bit stiffly.
  
  "Of course, I'll think of something. Perhaps my friends can give her some sparring lessons? Sleep well, Robb."
  
  Ser Oswell followed a despondent Jon to his room. "Do you need anything my Prince?" Ser Oswell was loath to leave him alone. Jon sat on his bed, hunched over. Seeing him like this reminded Ser Oswell of Prince Rhaegar in one of his troubled moods.
  
  "I don't understand? Everyone I've told before reacted better, even some who hardly knew me.
  
  Robb is my best friend. I was sure that he of all people would understand me and support me. And it wasn't because I waited too long to tell him, it was something else. You talked to him? Do you understand his reaction?"
  
  Ser Oswell installed himself in a chair next to the bed. "Give him time, Jon. He has grown up hating Prince Rhaegar. His young mind associates the Targaryen name with the killing of his grandfather and uncle, not to mention the raping of his aunt. He told me literally he couldn't rhyme the word Targaryen with you."
  
  "What can I do?"
  
  "Talk to him when he is not so tired. Do you remember how as a young kid you always saw a problem in every situation when you were tired? You would blow things out of proportion and get irritated by the tiniest thing. And then the next morning, after a good night's sleep either you solved the problem in an instant or you couldn't understand why it was a problem in the first place."
  
  "Rob admitted he was exhausted. And perhaps his disappointment and shock were not all about you. Robb learned tonight that the father he has looked up to his entire life, the same father that is praised throughout the realm for his honour, has not only hidden this monumental secret from him, he has also been conspiring against the Iron Throne for seventeen years. King Robert would call him a traitor.
  
  And maybe, do not get mad at me for saying this, but maybe Robb is a bit spoiled. He is heir to the North. He has always been the most important person when dealing with boys, I mean men of his own generation. Now he just learned that you are a Prince and outrank him."
  
  Jon looked pensive. "What do I do now? Just let him rest? Give him time? It seems so insufficient."
  
  "And stay yourself. Certainly do not apologise. Don't treat him any different. That should do it." Ser Oswell encouraged.
  
  Jon sighed. He was not really convinced but wished to be alone now. "Thank you Ser Oswell. I'll try to get some rest."
  
  "You're welcome, my Prince." Ser Oswell left the room and hoped Ser Arthur would arrive soon to take over guard duty. He could use some to talk to as well.
  
  The next morning, Jon woke up to voices. A faint light came through the dirty window of the small room. It must be early still. He focused his hearing. Arya was pestering Ser Arthur to let her enter his room.
  
  It felt as if he had just gone to sleep moments ago. He made a mental inventory of his commitments for the day. He would just have to delegate some things to Davos. He jumped out of bed and got dressed in a hurry.
  
  "Let her in, Ser Arthur," he called out.
  
  It was almost noon. Jon had taken care of the most urgent things with Arya glued to his side almost the entire time. She had reluctantly gone outside for the duration of his conversation with Davos and Gendry. She had accompanied him when he had visited the three ships. Together they had walked through the encampment, stopping here and there to address some minor issues. Jon had yet to see Robb. He had only caught a glimpse of him from afar and they had greeted each other with a nod but Robb had not made any attempt to approach. Jon could not remember a time he had felt this unsettled.
  
  "Come on, Arya. Let's see if Robb is as hungry as we are. We can all take lunch together." Perhaps Arya's presence would help them interact.
  
  They found Robb in the common room of the tavern. He was talking to Sam. Edric and Gendry were sitting there as well engrossed in a separate conversation.
  
  "Hey, can we join you?" Jon addressed his words to the four of them but stood behind the empty chair next to Robb.
  
  Sam looked up a big smile on his face. "Hey Jon, where have you been all morning? Of course you are welcome to join us."
  
  "He was with me!" Arya called out. "We've been all over. We are not as lazy as you."
  
  "Thanks Sam. How are thing over here?" Jon asked softly.
  
  "Well it seems we all slept rather late. Davos just gave me some messages to hand to you." Sam lowered his voice so only Jon could hear. "Lord Arryn died and Robb can only stay until news of King Robert's departure reaches us."
  
  Then he continued in a normal voice. "A delegation from Winterfell arrived this morning to take Arya home. They will want to leave soon. Robb stalled them until you were back. He said he wanted to give his sister some quality time with her best friend in the world before you two were being forced to separate for the Gods know how long."
  
  Jon accepted the scrolls and tucked them in his pocket. "They sent a delegation just to get Arya back? That seems a bit excessive, even for the Starks." Jon commented desperately wanting to know if Robb's absence had been as benevolent as it appeared to the others. His cousin had not once looked up at him. Jon himself was still standing, his hands now holding on to the chair extremely tight. He could see his own knuckles turn white.
  
  "Nooooooh," Arya whined. "Robb, can you not tell them to go away? You're the heir to Winterfell."
  
  "I'm sorry Arya." Robb looked genuinely sorry. "But we have received written orders from Father." He handed her a scroll. "Here, you may read them. I may be the heir but he is the ruling Lord of Winterfell. There is nothing I can do."
  
  "Hey Arya," Jon spoke kindly, releasing his hold on the chair and looked at her. He saw she had angry tears falling from her eyes. "Let's eat lunch together. Immediately after, I will give you the present I brought especially for you." Over Arya's head he gave Gendry a signal. His friend got up and left the room.
  
  "Okay," she got out quietly and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
  
  "I'm sure we will still have time for a short sparring session. Willing to take me on?" Jon comforted his little cousin some more.
  
  Eyes wide Arya enveloped Jon in a hug. "You're the best Jon." Then she released him. "Let's sit down already and eat."
  
  Arya ate quickly. She was almost finished when Gendry reappeared carrying an object wrapped up in cloth.
  
  "Arya, it seems your present has arrived. I had something made for you. My friend Gendry is a capable blacksmith and spent a long time crafting your present. Although I gave him a detailed description, Gendry helped make it a unique piece. I think even Robb will be jealous." During his short speech he had taken the package from Gendry and presented it to Arya.
  
  Arya almost ripped the cloth. "A sword! A real sword? This is steel?"
  
  "Yes Arya, be careful it is very sharp. This is not a training sword. I trust you to handle it responsibly. When you wield that, you must act and think like an adult. Keep in mind that I will bear the brunt of Lady Catelyn's displeasure if you hurt people or damage something with it without ample justification," he cautioned her. "I want you to use it only if your life or the lives of your loved ones are in danger. Promise me, Arya."
  
  Arya would kiss the ground Jon walked on if he asked at this point. She was ready to promise him anything."I promise on my honour as a Stark," she vowed solemnly. Then she took her time to study the sword. It was a piece of art. The blade shone and the edges were immaculate. But the decorations on the hilt and pommel were simply exquisite. The pommel ended in a miniature head of a direwolf.
  
  Arya had tears in her eyes once more. This time however they were no angry tears. She carefully put the sword back in the scabbard and hugged Jon for a long while. Then she went over to Gendry. After a small hesitation she gave him a brief hug as well. "Thank you, Gendry. Nobody has ever made me anything this beautiful. Truly, I thank you."
  
  Gendry looked a bit embarrassed and stuttered something before taking a step back.
  
  Jon smiled. "I am glad you like it Arya."
  
  Robb looked from Jon to Arya to the sword and back to Arya. "Can I touch it?" he asked her.
  
  "Yes but be careful. Are your hands tidy enough?"
  
  Robb wiped his hands in an exaggerated manner before taking the sword from her and examining every detail of it. "Thank you, Jon." Robb said quietly his eyes still on the sword.
  
  "It is for Arya. I have a feeling she will need it," he answered seriously all the while hating their current predicament.
  
  Jon excused himself soon after to read his scrolls and finish his letter to Uncle Ned so he could send it back with Arya.
  
  Not much later he returned for a short sparring session with his little cousin. He made sure to praise her foot work and showed her new ways to dodge an opponent's swings. All too soon it was time to say goodbye. Arya first embraced her brother saying a teary goodbye then she went over to Jon.
  
  Jon had never been hugged so much in one day. Arya clung to him desperately.
  
  "I hate to leave you Jon. We have not had enough time, not even close."
  
  "Well now at least I can be honest when I tell you that I am glad you woke me so early this morning," he tried to tease her.
  
  "I wish you were my brother. I wish you could come to Winterfell with me."
  
  "I will come for a visit," he promised.
  
  "Don't wait too long Jon," she insisted.
  
  Jon saw the wagon start to move. "Give my regards to your family. Do not forget to hand that letter to your father. I trust your Stark honour not to break the seal and read it yourself." He called after her.
  
  Arya just waved back stupid tears preventing her from answering.
  
  Jon turned to Robb. "I was planning on speaking to the garrison commander at the fort today. I want to gather information on the raids and assess the threat the Ironborn pose here. Davos and Ser Gerold are interrogating the town's people as we speak. Are you interested in coming along?"
  
  "Isn't that my business anyway?" Robb asked in a neutral tone.
  
  "It is if you represent your father's interests. I just do it because I want to protect the people that followed me here. I'll let you do the talking if you prefer?"
  
  "Uncle Benjen fears you are spoiling for a fight with the Ironborn to prove yourself." Robb's tone was accusing.
  
  "Robb," Jon sighed, "will you ever trust me again? Your father does."
  
  "I still trust you. I do. I just need to accustom myself to this new reality. As I recall it, you needed time as well back then. Let us table this discussion for now and speak about this tonight. I will have some questions for you then. I am still trying to formulate them all in my mind."
  
  "You can ask me anything, Robb," Jon promised him and then changed the topic to the political situation of the Iron Islands.
  
  They didn't learn much from their investigation. The attacks had no pattern. The consensus was however that the presence of Jon's three ships would help to discourage the Ironborn from attacking this spot for now. Jon handed Robb the reports he had written about the state of the defenses of Cape Kraken. Robb accepted them and joined them to his own notes for his father. Then he had left on a small excursion with Gendry and Edric while Jon talked to Davos and Sandor.
  
  Sandor Clegane didn't beat about the bush. "Trouble in boys' paradise?"
  
  Jon swallowed visibly. "Not now, Sandor."
  
  "Just tell him to stop his bullshit and whining. If he can think straight for two fucking moments, he'll come around. If not, he is a dumb ass, a fucking moron and not worthy of your time." Sandor walked away after that pearl or wisdom.
  
  Davos looked at Jon. "Not how I would have put it but he is right, Jon. Robb will come around or he is no real friend."
  
  "It still hurts Davos. Ser Oswell believes Robb is disappointed in the role his father plays in all this and he takes it out on me. He also thinks Robb's pride might be hurt since I could eventually outrank him should I become King. Can there be any truth in that last part? It doesn't sound like the Robb I know."
  
  "Do not forget he has been raised by Catelyn Stark. Everyone I asked described her as an ambitious proud southern lady. It could well be her influence on him. I do not know, Jon. Just be you and do not lower yourself or plead too much. You are at least his equal and soon his superior. What's more, you have done nothing wrong. Keep that in mind. Be kind and let the situation play out. Remember Ser Arthur's words. Use this experience and learn from it. That way, even this struggle will have its worth. You'll be stronger because of it, no matter the outcome."
  
  Davos had left him alone then, leaving Jon to mull over both men's advice.
  
  He would visit his dragons now and take Ghost along. That way he could talk to Robb this night here in the encampment without neglecting anybody. It was a cloudy day. Perhaps he could fly along in Rhaegal's mind and scout the seas. They would continue their journey north soon. Next stop was Sea Dragon Point. Hopefully Robb would still be with them by then.
  
  That night Robb and Jon set a new record. It became the longest talk they had ever had. It started with Robb questioning Jon about his intentions. Jon stayed calm sometimes referring to the fact that most of the plans were in place long before he had any knowledge of them with Robb's father as the primary instigator. At first Robb did not believe this. The honourable Eddard Stark could not be the leader of such a bunch of traitors, because that is what they all were if you looked at it from the other side. Jon softly retorted that he was the living proof of Lord Stark's ' betrayal' if that was the way Robb wanted to phrase it. Eddard Stark had saved a baby's life and given the small child an entourage worthy of a King. Robb swallowed and had remained silent for a bit.
  
  Then he started to ask practical questions. Jon answered them one by one often repeating the need for discretion since Lord Stark's head hung in the balance and by extension Robb's head as well.
  
  Slowly the subjects became more personal. Jon stressed they had been very patient and had laid a lot of groundwork for their Rebellion. They were hopeful that hardly any blood would be shed when they deposed the Baratheons and Lannisters. He described his dream of establishing a better reign. It was all about helping people and trying to make the lives of the smallfolk and servants better as well.
  
  Then Jon gave Robb an insight in his warging abilities and tried to persuade him to start the mental training exercises Jon had performed in his youth under the supervision of Lord Reed. Jon was of the opinion that the Stark siblings could all develop a certain level of bonding with their respective animals. The wolf dreams, Jon insisted, were an indication of a tentative bond between pet and human. Jon guessed it was the direwolf reaching out to his owner when the latter's guard was lowered by sleep. If Robb would actively try to reach Greywind's mind, Jon supposed the direwolf would only be too happy to respond.
  
  Seeing Robb was interested Jon closed his eyes and called for Ghost. He asked him to come to them and bring Greywind along. Both wolves appeared and Jon gave Robb his first lesson. After several tries Robb managed to consciously enter Greywind's mind for an instant but only when he was touching him with both hands and looking straight into his yellow eyes. They figured it was a promising start. After that, Robb's attitude started to mellow.
  
  They ended up talking as they used to before about anything and everything.
  
  Jon told him about a short message he had received from Uncle Ned. Eddard Stark had suspected Jon would tell Robb his origins. Eddard Stark warned them both to keep in mind that the Lords of the North did not know anything yet. They would have to keep it a secret for now. It was the responsibility of the Warden of the North to inform his bannermen of the political situation when the timing was right.
  
  Then Jon proceeded to show him Uncle Benjen's latest letter. One he had received at Cape Kraken. Jon shared his worries with Robb about the situation at the Wall and their Uncle Benjen's safety.
  
  Jon,
  
  I hope you are enjoying your time at the Stony Shore with Robb. I would have liked to join you both over there after delivering Loras Tyrell to Winterfell but I really needed to travel to the Wall. The reports from the Lord Commander keep getting more desperate.
  
  How are your flying pets? I hope you have them under control. I can't wait to visit you again to see with my own eyes how much bigger they will be yet again and how you can keep them hidden. I haven't heard any rumours about them here in the North yet. It seems you are doing the impossible once again.
  
  I'm writing this letter from Castle Black. I just had dinner with your Uncle Aemon. He asks to send you his love and that he will dictate a letter to you before I leave so I can take it with me. He will take the opportunity to use me as his scribe once more so he can be a bit more open with his information. The things I do for you...
  
  Anyway the news at the Wall is not that good. Every few moons, rangers don't come back. The Wildlings we've encountered are speaking of dark magic living in the Lands of Always Winter. They claim they are being hunted. As you and my older brother discussed, we have set up a tentative communication system with the Wildlings. Every few moons, we attempt to meet halfway between the Wall and their closest settlement. However not all the clans are comfortable with that, and neither are the rangers of the Night's Watch who have been here the longest.
  
  But for the moment there is a shaky peace between the Night's Watch and the Wildlings. If only both parties can keep their own ranks in check, things will get better and there will be fewer casualties.
  
  The Wildlings call themselves The Free Folk, an apt name, don't you think so. They are organising themselves and have named a 'King beyond the Wall'. It happens to be someone Jeor Mormont knows. According to the Lord Commander, the King beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder, is a former ranger of the Night's Watch who deserted and went to live among the Free Folk. But the good news is that he is a man who knows our culture and can be reasoned with.
  
  I have talked to this Mance Rayder. He tried to persuade me that not all of the missing rangers from the Night's Watch are killed by The Free Folk. He knows he can't control all of his people but most have stopped harassing the Crows. And no, that is not a wrong word. Crows are what the Free Folk call the Night's Watch. I think it is to do with their black attire. Anyway, do you remember old Nan's tales about the Long Night and the White Walkers with their armies of dead people? Well it is this farfetched story that the King Beyond the Wall has given as a reason for the disappearance of our rangers. He even claims thousands of his people have gone missing as well.
  
  We are all debating how to react to this. How do you begin to look for proof of mystical creatures?
  
  Mance Rayder has proposed a joint scouting mission consisting of Free Folk, experienced Night Watch rangers and at least one representative sent by the Warden of the North. In short, he wants me to join them. The King beyond the Wall will not come along himself. He claims that he is needed in the settlements and that without him, the constant infighting between the different clans will only give the White Walkers more soldiers without having to lift an icy finger. He will send his second in command along, Tormund Giantsbane. I have met the man several times already. His name is apt. He is a really tall fellow with red hair. I think you could like him Jon, he reminds me of Clegane.
  
  Now the Night's Watch and I will need to decide whether we trust Mance Rayder enough to agree to his suggestion. I have been trying to figure out why Mance Rayder specifically asks for me to take part in this joint mission and I think I have come up with a possible explanation. It could be that he is trying to plant the idea into our heads to allow his people south of the wall. He would need the influence of the Warden of the North for that. That's where I come in I guess. If he can persuade me the threat is real, as his brother, I am a direct link to the Warden of the North who has jurisdiction south of the Wall.
  
  
  It is a big ask, don't you think? I can't imagine the Watch ever agreeing to this. They have been fighting each other for several thousands years if our history books are correct. Anyway this mission will be dangerous, even if you don't believe in White Walkers and trust the Free Folk not to murder us at the first opportunity. We will have to travel north across a very cold and foreign area filled with wild animals, steep mountains, glaciers and other unknown dangers. So do not worry if you don't hear from me for some time. And do remember our talk. If ever Rhaegal is large enough and lets you ride him, do not come to the Wall. It is too cold and too dangerous out here. Train your dragons on easier missions. Be smart nephew!
  
  Well, if I look this letter over, it has certainly gotten long enough. I've been adding a few lines to it every night before retiring but I think it is time I sent it on its way. Oh, before I forget, please write to Uncle Ned. He needs some outside advice on how to deal with one of his bannermen. It seems there is unrest in the North as well. Perhaps he will already have sent you a message by now.
  
  Give my warmest regards to your loyal protectors and friends. Tell Robb the next letter I write will be addressed to him. Keep safe and healthy. I pray to the Old Gods each night and ask them to let me see the both of you again before year's end.
  
  Once more, keep safe,
  
  Your Uncle Benjen
  
  Robb took his time and read it twice before discussing the content with his cousin. Their joint worry about their uncle further cemented their mended relationship.
  
  Robb told him about visiting brothels with Theon and that he worried about the Kraken's recently formed friendship with the despicable Ramsey Snow, a bastard son of Lord Roose of House Bolton.
  
  Jon had told Robb shyly about his visit to Princess Daenerys. From there it was a small step to venture to girls and sex.
  
  Jon laughed. "Do you really want to talk about this? Remember, you promised Arya." Robb gave him a friendly shove and all was well again between them.
  
  Robb told him of his visits to the whores in Winter Town and of his subsequent crushes first on one of the handmaids at Winterfell, then Wylla Manderly followed by Elyssa Cerwyn. He assured Jon that he hadn't acted on these crushes, he had not ventured further with these girls than a few stolen kisses, a bit of touching at the most. Whores knew how to prevent getting with child, highborn ladies did not. He wouldn't risk his mother's ire and beget a bastard child. It took some prodding on Robb's part before Jon admitted to his single night of sex education. Robb didn't seem to mind anymore that Jon could teach him a thing or two, at least not on this subject.
  
  Jon went to sleep with a clear conscience. He had adhered to Davos' advice and hadn't pleaded. Robb had come back to him on his own terms. It had only taken a long honest talk.
  
  That night he dreamed he flew high up in the sky and saw a large fleet heading for the Stony Shore.
  
  He woke up hearing loud bells waking the entire settlement. Ser Arthur stood at his bedside.
  
  "Hurry my Prince. We are about to come under attack. The watch post sent word that at least twenty ships are coming this way. I hate to say it but I think you will need to call the dragons.
  
  Jon was up and dressed in no time.
  
  "Put on your full armour, My Prince. And take your helmet with you as well. Best be prepared. This is no ordinary raid. The Ironborn have come with far superior numbers than our combined forces on the as well."
  
  Ser Arthur explained that the fortress was on full alert. Ser Gerold was coordinating the defenses on the ships, Sandor was mobilising the inhabitants of the settlement who were willing to fight. "Ser Gerold ordered me to stay with you and guard you in case you would have to warg into Rhaegal. Ser Gerold hopes the dragon can scout the open sea for us and give you an accurate threat assessment."
  
  Ser Arthur helped Jon put on the last pieces of his armour and now they were hurrying through the building. On his way out, Jon grabbed a piece of bread from the kitchen. Then he ran to the woods mentally calling for his dragons to come to him.
  
  "Ser Arthur, stay back please. They are going to land in front of me. I will tell them what's going on and ask them if they are willing to help us."
  
  "If you are able to set fire to some of the ships you should know that Davos advised to target the front and the back row of their formation, trapping the ships in the middle."
  
  Ser Arthur knew he overstepped and would probably have to answer to Ser Gerold for this but he disagreed with his Lord Commander. He was certain that without help from the dragons, the little settlement would be overrun. Whatever strategy the garrison commander and Ser Gerold could come up with, they didn't stand a chance against twenty warships. He quickly stepped back to make room for the dragons that flew in and landed next to his Prince.
  
  Jon petted them and tried to convey the situation by just picturing it in his mind. Rhaegal nudged Jon and lowered his wing, clearly wanting Jon to mount. Jon had done so only once before when Ser Oswell had fallen asleep during one of his nightly visits. He knew Rhaegal was right. If he could see everything through his own eyes he could instruct them first hand to change their battle plan and instantly counteract unexpected manoeuvers of the attackers. His dragons were intelligent. It was good advice.
  
  Still he hesitated and looked over to Ser Arthur. The knight looked worried. "Hurry my Prince, the enemy is not far out. Sit down and do you warg thing."
  
  "I'm sorry Ser Arthur, but this is the best way." Jon said softly and climbed on Rhaegal's back.
  
  "At least close your helmet." Ser Arthur shouted. "Protect your identity, my Prince. Ser Gerold won't like this at all."
  
  "Don't worry. I will close my visor when I attack the ships. For now I want to have my full range of vision. I'll be careful Ser Arthur. But Rhaegal and I really believe this is the best option. He turned his attention to his dragon and they were in the air in no time. Rhaegal flew high and fast and soon Jon could see the entire fleet shimmer through the clouds below him. He felt Viserion's presence nearby. He sensed the dragons' protective instincts flare up but also the underlying excitement both of them felt of being able to show the ones who threatened his human how powerful they really were.
  
  It was immediately obvious that this was no friendly visit. The initial count had been right. Twenty ships were headed for the Stony Shore. They were organised in three rows. Seven ships formed the first and the last row. The middle row contained six vessels. The ships on the front row were only a mile away from the shore by now. Jon flew a bit lower and studied the situation with the help of the small spyglass he had forgotten to hand back to Davos and still carried in his pocket. He could make out the men on deck. They were all in full armour, weapons at the ready clearly eager for battle. He also noticed Euron Greyjoy's personal sigil on a banner. Yara Greyjoy had described it to him, a red eye surmounted by a black crown held aloft by two black crows. He didn't hesitate any longer. Minding Ser Arthur's warning he closed the visor on his helmet.
  
  The first dive set two of the ships closest to the shore afire. Viserion seamlessly copied every move of Rhaegal but took care to target the ship at the opposite end of the front row. Jon steered them back up above the clouds and flew to the back of the convoy before the Ironborn realised what hit them. He was able to examine the chaos below through a small opening in the clouds. The ship Rhaegal had set on fire seemed rudderless and was on a collision course with the neighbouring vessel. Fire and smoke were causing a full blown panic. All eyes were on the burning ships at the front of the convoy. Jon took advantage of that fact and dove below the clouds a second time. He did not fly up until all seven ships in the back row were engulfed in flames.
  
  Soaring above the clouds back toward the shoreline he considered his next step. He knew the men on the beach and the crew aboard his own ships had witnessed his actions. The existence of his dragons could no longer be concealed. He took his time to assess the remaining threat. The four ships still intact on the front row hadn't changed their course and had been joined by two others. The Ironborn still seemed intent on attacking the settlement. The gap between the burning ships and the ones on course for the attack was widening. Jon saw countless men in the water or still jumping overboard to escape the spreading fires. At least Euron Greyjoy or whoever was in command, had ordered two of the still undamaged vessels to pick up survivors.
  
  He focused his attention on the six ships still intent on attacking that were approaching the shoreline at full speed. If he let this play out his own people and vessels would suffer great losses.
  
  His hearth beat loudly when he made his decision. Stealth was no longer an option. He swallowed and gambled it all. He closed his visor once more. Rhaegal descended below the clouds and flew in full view over the encampment, the armies on the shore and the men on his own ships to confront the attacking ships. His dragon stopped mid-air and did his best to hoover in front of the ship closest to the shoreline.
  
  "Turn back or face dragon fire," he shouted. Viserion had come up next to them. Both dragons blew a warning smoke cloud over some heavily armed Ironborn warriors. They cried out in pain, small burns blistering their skin, the metal on their armour red hot.
  
  "This is your last warning, turn around now or be burned alive!" Jon tried once more to convince them to turn around and avoid further bloodshed. He didn't wait for their decision but flew out of there because he had noticed some men overcome their initial shock and reach for bows and arrows. After all, he had promised not to take unnecessary risks. When he was at a safe distance and height he checked behind him and saw the ships slowly turn around. They had aborted the attack. He felt relief, excitement and even a bit of smugness.
  
  He swiftly landed back near the edge of the woods and descended. His legs were a bit shaky at first. He took off his helmet and shook his head to loosen the curls who stuck to his head wet with perspiration. He sent waves of gratefulness to both dragons. Rhaegal had obeyed every suggestion of Jon without a single hesitation. Viserion had been very willing to follow his brother's actions. What was important though was that they had retreated above the clouds each time Jon had asked them to and had also agreed to leave the battle before destroying every last ship. Jon petted them both and looked around. Ser Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Jon called for Ghost who had stayed close to the place he had seen Jon take off not long before. Accompanied by his direwolf, he ran back to join their forces on the beach.
  
  "Didn't know you had it in ye, kid." Clegane was the first to notice him. "The Iron cunts are fleeing like scared little ducks."
  
  Jon didn't reply, he noticed everyone staring at him in awe. Some went down to their knees and worshiped him like a God. Others backed away looking fearful and disbelieving. Jon didn't know how to react and tried to go for an innocent smile. "We're saved." He stated simply to no one in particular. "They had it coming."
  
  He heard someone cheer. Then a few others joined in and soon the crowd was cheering loudly. Jon presumed it was their way of showing relief for escaping a grave danger. The smallfolk probably realised that the only reason they had withstood the largest attack their shores had ever witnessed was this young man. However terrifying he might be, he was on their side. They started to approach him.
  
  Jon noticed a protective circle formed around him and Ghost. His Kingsguard and his friends had all come to his side. Gendry was the first of them to speak since Sandor's outburst. "Oh Gods Jon, they are so powerful. The amount of fire they released! I have never seen such powerful flames before. That dragonfire burned through those ships so fast. I bet I could melt the sturdiest metal in these flames in an instant."
  
  He felt Davos touching his arm. "Are you okay son? You have suffered no burns yourself?"
  
  "Their fire can't hurt me Davos. Maester Aemon suspected as much and I have experienced it first-hand today." He showed Davos his hands. "Look for yourself, I am unharmed."
  
  "Let us go inside and debrief," Ser Gerold forcefully intervened. "Best get away from this crowd before they decide they all want a piece of Jon." He looked around. "These folks need to calm down before I will let you near them again. Let's get you somewhere safe, my Prince", he urged once more.
  
  "I need to get my dragons to hide a bit farther away first. Give me a moment." Jon closed his eyes and didn't move for a short while. His entourage knew better than to disturb him now. "Okay, we can go now." Jon had opened his eyes again and obliged Ser Gerold.
  
  They entered the tavern still in formation, Jon in the middle of the tightly knit group. The warden hurried to the kitchen to serve his best food and drink to the hero of the day.
  
  "What could I have done differently?" Jon was tired of defending himself to Ser Gerold. They had gone over every stage of his strategy at least five times by now.
  
  "You could have stayed off Rhaegal. Just guided the both of them and stayed safely on the ground as we all thought you would do. You've blown our cover. How can we say the dragons aren't yours now? I thought the backup plan was to send out the rumour that the Golden Company used dragons if ever we were discovered. Now they know of a young man flying around riding one. Only Targaryens have been known to do that Jon. King Robert will react to this."
  
  "We could still deny that someone sat on top of the dragon. We will admit to the dragon. But if the people here stay silent on the detail of seeing me ride a dragon, the rumours can be discredited in King's Landing by our allies. Besides whom will King Robert believe? Some vague rumours that are contradicted by other rumours, or the Warden of the North who knows what happens on his territory. Lord Varys can help us there as well if necessary."
  
  "Best send out ravens to all parties concerned immediately. Don't forget the Tullys and the Driftmark. We will all go outside and ask the people to protect the young man who saved them. If they ask about his origins we do not know. You are just an orphan who grew up at the Driftmark. They all saw our genuine disbelief at the sight of you on the dragon. We can tell them truthfully we didn't know before today."
  
  "Jon, you stay inside for now. We will reconvene tonight and discuss the reactions of the smallfolk here and then decide how best to proceed from there."
  
  "Edric, Gendry, Sam we will need you to go out there as well to help spread the word. Stark?" Ser Gerold asked looking at Robb.
  
  "I will go as well. As representative of the Warden of the North I can proclaim that Jon is under his protection. To expose Jon would mean they disobeyed Lord Eddard Stark. They all realise how much they owe my father. He is the one who has changed an almost extinct village into a prospering settlement."
  
  "Even better," Ser Gerold replied with a grateful nod in Robb's direction. "Perhaps we should alter our stories?"
  
  A debate ensued. Jon grew tired and told them to get on with it. "Just try and stick close to the first story. It won't be long now anyway. For all we know the King has already left King's Landing. If you will excuse me?"
  
  He left in the direction of his room, Ghost tripped after him. Ser Gerold hesitated but then appointed Sandor Clegane to guard Jon. Best not let Clegane's curses loose on the local population.
  
  Interlude 11: Pride comes before the fall
  
  Finally the Starks would get what they deserved. Lord Petyr Baelish was sure of it. This time he had taken every precaution. Somehow these last few years several of his carefully laid out plans had been thwarted. Some had even backfired terribly leaving him weaker as before. It had only made him up his game. This time he had done almost everything himself. Not trusting any middle person or spy unless absolutely necessary.
  
  And finally he would avenge the insults Brandon Stark had shouted at him all those years ago. He was sorry Catelyn would suffer as well but she had made her bed. He had given her an out many times and she had not taken it. Repeatedly he had subtly degraded her husband in her eyes proclaiming him weak and lacking ambition. He had pointed out to her that Stark forced her to live among the barbarians in the North and isolated her children, thereby diminishing their chances to shine in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. But all to no avail. She had not helped his cause, not much anyway. Well he was done with her now. After several of his assassination attempts on Eddard Stark had failed, he had given up on the plan of getting rid of her husband and marrying Lady Catelyn himself. Besides, he could do so much better now.
  
  At this point, he had more power and influence than the honourable Eddard Stark. Lord Stark had been handed his power on a golden platter and was squandering it away. Petyr had fought for every little bit of his own. He was very proud of his accomplishments. Having started out as an impoverished Lord of an insignificant house in the Vale he had ingratiated himself with the ruling house of the Vale through his friendship with Lysa and Catelyn Tully. Lord Arryn had recognised his aptitude to turn a profit and had promoted him, even taken him to King's Landing when Lord Arryn became hand of the King. There he had really flourished. His cunning and ruthless manipulation of people had made him thrive in this political environment. Only his arch nemesis Varys, the Master of Whispers had been able slow down his rise to power. Littlefinger had lost face before the small council several times over the last decade. He was almost sure the Spider was behind it each and every time.
  
  But no more. This time everything was going according to plan and nothing could hinder it any longer. The Starks were going down, the Lannisters were going down, someone else was already picking of the Baratheons and Petyr Baelish would be the one to rise like an eagle. He need not be crowned King, Hand of the King was the most powerful position anyway. If he played his cards right he could even pick the house who would take the throne when King Robert was no longer in the picture.
  
  "I hate meeting here. I always have a splitting headache for the rest of the day." Prince Oberyn complained. The loud hammering of the blacksmith's workshop could be heard clearly. The man worked all day without taking a break. At least that is how it seemed inside this tiny room.
  
  "It still is the safest place I can think of, my Prince", Varys replied in his singsong voice.
  
  "Well at least you brought something to drink." Prince Oberyn brought the glass of wine to his lips. Dornish wine, the best you can find in this stinking capital. You really know your wine, my Lord Varys."
  
  "I try," Varys smirked and toasted silently before drinking as well.
  
  "Can you describe the face Littefinger made in detail when he heard his ship with well-trained whores had been confiscated and the girls were sent away never to be found by him again?" Prince Oberyn relished hearing about the end results of all their little schemes. His only regret was that he was not often present to enjoy the reaction of their enemies first hand.
  
  "That one was priceless, but let me tell you about my smug face when their replacements came in and he accepted them without any suspicion."
  
  "You mean your female little birds that had grown too old for your normal purposes?" Prince Oberyn remembered mention of this in his last report.
  
  "Yes, mind you only the ones who volunteered. They were promised that one year of playing the luxury whore in one of Petyr Baelish's cosy establishments whilst feeding him the false rumours I whisper in their ears would see them well provided for the rest of their lives. I had plenty of volunteers and picked only the most beautiful ones of course."
  
  Varys proceeded to give Prince Oberyn a few examples of how Littlefinger got played by his grown up birds. Then he decided to get on with the business at hand. "Enough of that for now. How are things in Dorne?"
  
  "What have you heard?" Prince Oberyn smile disappeared from his face. "You probably knew before me what my stupid brother has done."
  
  "I've heard whispers. So it is true? Did Prince Quentyn journey to Pentos?"
  
  "My brother was not satisfied with my vague progress reports on the Targaryen situation. Somehow a rumour reached him that a dragon had been spotted flying over the Narrow Sea setting a pirate ship on fire. Of course he thinks the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea have been playing us this entire time. He sent his eldest son Prince Quentyn over there to find Princess Daenerys and marry her. When I confronted him he laughed in my face. He even admitted he had told his son to use any means necessary safe killing her before she birthed him an heir and before he knew how to command the dragon."
  
  "Your careful wait-and-see brother?" Varys was surprised at the ruthless picture Prince Oberyn painted.
  
  "Has turned into a real viper it seems. Should we worry about her safety?" Prince Oberyn seemed really concerned for the Targaryen Princess.
  
  "My little birds said Prince Quentyn left Pentos with his tail between his legs. I have no further information yet. You mean Prince Doran hasn't either? Prince Quentyn should be home by now."
  
  "Perhaps the would-be-rapist is afraid to come home and face his father now that he has fled, how did you call it, with his tail between his legs?" Prince Oberyn managed a smile laugh now that he knew the Princess was safe. Then another thought struck him. "As long as Princess Daenerys has not pointed him in Prince Aegon's direction."
  
  "Never! She has turned down several suitors. I'm sure she is getting quite proficient at it. Nobody gets within ten feet of her without her consent and even then she is surrounded by several armed men. Did you hear she turned down a Dothraki Khal and suffered no harm? Have you heard of Khal Drogo? He is called the Khal of Khals. He had seen her when she visited a local market and was taken in by her beauty. If that man can accept a no from her, Prince Quentyn didn't stand a chance."
  
  "That doesn't mean she did not mention Prince Aegon to him."
  
  "She knows all about Prince Aegon's plans. They write each other all the time. She understands everything hinges on his existence staying a secret for now. She would never betray her nephew. I suspect she even hopes he will marry her in true Targaryen fashion. She could have married someone else years ago. I doubt there is an unmarried man in Pentos who would refuse her."
  
  "Did you hear about the Tyrells?" Oberyn changed the subject.
  
  "All I know is that Lady Olenna is still harassing the small council with her demand for a betrothal between Prince Joffrey and her granddaughter Lady Margaery. The King prefers Sansa Stark as you well know."
  
  "I meant to ask you what their reaction was to Loras' arrest?" Prince Oberyn clarified.
  
  "Mace Tyrell meekly told the small council it surely must have been a misunderstanding and they were confident that Loras Tyrell would be released soon enough. The poor boy could only be an innocent victim and was to be pitied."
  
  "The Tyrells will surely harass Lord Stark now." Oberyn remarked.
  
  "I do not think they will venture all the way to the North. They will send letters to demand his return. In the meanwhile Stark must do all he can to convince them he is only giving the young Lord a safe harbour in the North were hardly anybody has heard the southerners' gossip or if they did, his people follow his lead and do not give the rumours much credit. Loras Tyrell will have an easy time in Winterfell and it would be better if he goes back home only after another scandal hits the capital. He can hint at the rumours about the royal children. Perhaps coming from him she will start to believe them?" Varys gave his point of view in a flat tone.
  
  "Then all the rumours my daughter planted about the royal children haven't deterred her yet? My last letter from Willas Tyrell hinted at the possibility of considering Robb Stark for a marriage alliance. I really hoped my little Sandsnake had found the right ear to whisper her sweet nothings into." Oberyn looked disappointed.
  
  "Wait until Lady Olenna hears of the existence of Prince Aegon. We must see Lady Margaery is firmly betrothed to Robb or someone else before our Prince reveals himself." Varys cautioned.
  
  Prince Oberyn just nodded his assent. "On another note, I told my brother I was planning a visit to the Wall. Maybe take Nymeria with me as well. I want to see that gigantic ice structure before I die. Prince Aegon's descriptions have only strengthened my resolve. I came by to see if I could be of use to our Prince somewhere. I could adapt my itinerary to fit his needs.
  
  "Well," Varys said," there is the issue with the Freys and the Riverlands. Communications have been muddy. Perhaps you could lend an ear here and there and see if you can gather useful information. Also you could convey some messages in person. Always the safest way. I'll have them ready for you before you leave and the list of places to drop them off. You can then decide if I am not taking too much advantage of the situation." The bald man grinned. "It is not often I have a princely messenger. Oh, perhaps you will meet Benjen Stark at the Wall. I would really want an unbiased report of what is really happening over there. All those second hand tales of Grumkins and Snarks are trying my nerves." Varys shivered.
  
  "You mean White Walkers and walking dead men." Prince Oberyn laughed. "If I tell you, wouldn't that count as a second hand report as well?"
  
  "Do not forget the dead beasts", Varys shivered. "Well, the more sources, the more believable the unbelievable." He said matter of fact now. "But first we have to discuss the situation here at King's Landing. We really need to bring Littlefinger down soon. Can we go over the plan together and see if we missed something or if you have additional fuel to throw on this proverbial fire?" Varys unrolled a large scroll and both men studied the content.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon deals with the aftermath of his actions.
  
  In the interlude Ned Stark discovers an unintentional spy at Winterfell.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The aftermath
  Chapter 12: The Aftermath
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon deals with the aftermath of his actions.
  
  Ned discovers an unintentional spy at Winterfell.
  
  Notes:
  
  This chapter contains some graphic descriptions of violence. Read at your own peril.
  
  The aftermath
  
  Small gifts kept arriving at the tavern for Jon. The smallfolk worshipped the ground he walked on now. Jon's safety was no longer an issue. Even those who had been suspicious or afraid at first were soon reassured. Robb Stark's words had turned the tide. The word of a Stark carried weight in the North. If the heir of Winterfell vouched for the young Lord who flew on a dragon, the people of the North would stand by him. His anonymity however had been harder to assure.
  
  Half a day later they had adopted Jon as one of their own. Things had escalated from there. First someone had remarked out loud how their new hero resembled Lord Eddard Stark. Next the warden of the tavern, relishing his moment in the spotlight, had let it slip that he had heard the young man mention an 'Uncle Benjen'. It had not taken long before the consensus was that Brandon Stark must have married or bedded a woman at the Driftmark before the Rebellion, probably one with ties to the dragonriders of Old Valyria. No wonder the young man was on their side. He was one of them. Some even ventured that should the late Brandon Stark have married Jon's mother, the young hero could actually be the rightful heir to Winterfell and not Lord Eddard Stark.
  
  Jon's council was at a loss for how to counter those rumours. They had talked about it with Robb but eventually they had decided to let the gossip die out. The important point was that the local population now considered Jon as a son of the North. Jon had hugged Robb and whispered a heartfelt thank you in his ear. He had vowed never to usurp his position. If their plans succeeded and he became King of the Seven Kingdoms, House Stark would always rule the North. Robb had patted his back and had jokingly asked if he could get that in writing. Jon had stayed serious and said he would be happy to do so once he was entitled to issue a royal decree.
  
  This pact with Robb didn't change the situation at hand. If he dared to step outside, people flocked around him, wanting to touch him, asked him for a blessing or promises of everlasting protection. Jon was glad they would leave tomorrow. He hardly ventured outside. And if he did, he stuck close to Ghost. Sandor Clegane was his faithful shadow and together with the direwolf they discouraged everyone from approaching. Jon was getting frustrated with the entire situation. He longed for the physical presence of his dragons to help him relax. Just their mental connection from afar wasn't enough. Jon needed to touch them, rest against Rhaegal's flank and clear his mind by sharing his frustrations with them. The fact that he could feel their longing as well made him give in. After dark he would slip out in a disguise. Ser Barristan had already agreed to come along.
  
  During their walk that night once they were clear of the settlement, Jon relaxed and listened to Ser Barristan's tales about his time with his father. It was not the first time Ser Barristan had entertained him with stories about Prince Rhaegar. The man had plenty of small anecdotes of his time with the Prince that were entirely new to Jon. It had become clear that Ser Barristan had enjoyed a really close relationship with the Targaryen Prince. Listening to these tales for several sennights now, Jon slowly started to believe he had inherited some part of his father's disposition. Ser Barristan kept mentioning it often enough.
  
  Jon had revealed things as well. He had described his warging ability, how he had named his dragons and direwolf and also mentioned the sennight he spent with Princess Daenerys.
  
  However, the most fascinating tale Ser Barristan had told him during their journey across the Riverlands was a detailed description of his father's search for prophesies relating to the northern folktale of the Long Night. When Jon mentioned to Ser Barristan what Princess Daenerys had written about this Lord of Light and his dark night full of terrors, Ser Barristan had immediately informed him that Prince Rhaegar had mentioned a prophesy of Azor Ahai and his flaming sword defeating this darkness. He had stressed that the Crown Prince had been sure these tales and prophesies were all linked somehow. His father had presumed the legend of Azor Ahai to be the Essosi version of the northern tale of the Long Night. Jon had been astonished to learn that his father had considered the possibility of himself or his one of his direct descendants being this Prince That Was Promised, the hero Azor Ahai reborn who would defeat the Darkness once again. In one of his recent letters Uncle Aemon had affirmed he knew of Prince Rhaegar's hypothesis.
  
  This night however Ser Barristan realised his Prince needed to relax and told him an innocent story about Prince Rhaegar playing the harp to the smallfolk out on the streets of King's Landing. And how afterwards he had redistributed the money that he had unintentionally collected, to the poor.
  
  The night's rest amidst his dragons had done wonders for Jon's mood. During their morning walk back to the settlement, he had mentioned Princess Daenerys once more to Ser Barristan and had asked the knight whether he would be prepared to sail to Essos and stay with the Princess as head of her entourage.
  
  "I would be unhappy to leave you my Prince. You are the long lost son of my dearest friend. However I am yours to command. If that is your wish, I will protect the Princess to the best of my abilities."
  
  "It wouldn't be for long. Soon Dragonstone will be ours and Dany can come home to Westeros."
  
  Ser Barristan heard the warmth in his voice and didn't miss the appellation. "Pardon me if I am overstepping, but are you planning on making her your Queen?"
  
  Jon hesitated not knowing himself what the answer to the questions was. "I don't know yet," he decided to be honest. "Uncle Aemon insists on it now that there are grown dragons in the world once more. I feel uneasy and somewhat conflicted when I think about it and I certainly do not want to order her to marry against her wishes."
  
  "As the head of House Targaryen, it is your right to tell her whom she should marry, you know that don't you? As the rightful heir to the Iron Throne you will even be able to determine who your allies can or cannot marry. That means you could choose a bride for Robb. If you think on it, soon nobody will be able to marry anyone if you object." Ser Barristan told his Prince.
  
  "I'm not comfortable with that, not yet, maybe never." Jon confessed.
  
  "Well, look at the upside. Nobody will be able to force you to marry against your will. You will be the King. They can only advise you but in the end you will have the last word." Ser Barristan attempted to get back to a more relaxed atmosphere by stressing a positive aspect of Jon's future responsibilities
  
  "You know," Jon smiled now, "I think I told Daenerys the exact same thing when we discussed possible marriage alliances." The young Prince's face regained its serious expression immediately. "About joining the Princess' entourage, let's discuss this with Ser Gerold. I know you were a Lord Commander to King Robert's Kingsguard but here Ser Gerold is the indisputable Lord Commander of mine. If you have a problem with that, please let me know. If necessary I will try to come up with some other way you can serve me."
  
  "I have no problem with that my Prince, none at all. I am very happy I am no longer bound to King Robert and would give my right hand to be able to serve you and your family in any way you deem fit," he reassured the young man.
  
  The next morning, when they neared the settlement on their walk back, several children ran up to Jon. Ser Barristan had scanned them from afar and had allowed them to come closer. Jon ordered Ghost to remain by his side and to stay calm but vigilant. A little girl handed him flowers. Jon feeling a lot better after spending some time with his dragons welcomed the children with a smile and accepted the small bouquet. A young boy asked him where the dragons were. Encouraged by this another child asked what their names were and handed him a drawing.
  
  Jon made a show of admiring it. It was a primitive sketch of two dragons in the air and a lot of shapes that looked like ships on fire beneath them. He could recognise Rhaegal and Viserion because of the colour they had added to the small painting. Grass has been smeared on one figure and flour on the other. He held the painting in front of him so all the children that had gathered around him could see where he pointed. "This one, the green one is called Rhaegal, the silverwhite dragon is Viserion."
  
  He handed the drawing back to the child, wished them all a nice day and made haste to reach the tavern before any adults would catch on he was there. After a good night's rest, he felt hungry and looked forward to breaking his fast with his cousin and friends.
  
  Sam saw him enter and immediately gestured him to come over. Jon joined them at the table where Edric, Gendry and Robb had almost finished breaking their fast. They all greeted him with enthusiasm and acted as if it was just another day. Jon smiled. This was just what he needed. He took a bite and listened to Gendry telling Edric about the book he had just finished reading .
  
  'Gendry had finished a book!'
  
  Jon caught Gendry's attention and gave him a slight nod conveying a silent congratulation on his accomplishment. Gendry acknowledged it with a proud smile. All was well for now. Jon felt happy sitting here surrounded by his friends. Now he only needed to persuade Sam to stick with them. The only one who had no choice but to leave them soon would be Robb but they would make sure to stay in touch. He was already making plans for Robb to come to his side once more. They were family after all.
  
  Sandor stood in the corner of the common room next to Ser Oswell. Both men were watching Jon break his fast with the other boys. He leaned towards his fellow guard and tempered his voice some.
  
  "Look at him, such an endearing boy enjoying time with his friends. To think that he sent most of those twenty fucking warships to meet their stupid drowned God all on his lonesome. The fuckers that made it out alive probably all shit their pants while they ran. We didn't lift even need to lift our smallest finger. What are we dumbasses waiting for? A few more burning shows like that and the fucking Kingdoms will just fall on their knees for the boy."
  
  "Don't talk like that in here. Rumours are bad enough as it is" Ser Oswell reprimanded. "Ser Gerold is anxious the four of us will not be sufficient to keep him safe here. He wants to continue our journey as soon as possible."
  
  "Now that's not a bad idea." Sandor replied. He straightened himself up and saw Jon laugh at something Robb said. 'At least that Stark kid has come to his fucking senses and helped us deal with the people here.' He didn't voice that thought out loud though.
  
  Jon was surveying the ship with Davos. They would be leaving later that day. "Davos, can I trouble you for some advice once again?"
  
  They had arrived at the bow of the ship and Davos sat down patting the space next to him. Jon didn't hesitate and sat down on the familiar bench.
  
  "Do you think our presence provoked the Ironborn to attack with such a large force? Or is it possible that this was not just a raid but an all-out attack on the North?"
  
  "Hardly an all-out attack, Euron Greyjoy has a larger force than that. No, I imagine he wanted to cement his role as strong ruler of the Iron Islands. The rulers of the Ironborn are chosen. A birthright only gets them so far. If as we suspect Euron has deposed Balon Greyjoy, he needs to prove that he can lead them before they will fully accept him. I reckon he went for a quick win and considered your three brand new ships an adequate prize."
  
  "But why the Stony Shore? Why not Seagard? It is closer to Pyke. Was it our presence?" he asked once more.
  
  "I don't think so. But do I know for sure? No Jon, I cannot help you there. Euron probably went for the easier target. If anything, you should be glad they attacked us here. You have a substantial fleet at Seagard and could have suffered great losses."
  
  Jon looked sideways toward the shore where Greywind and Ghost were chasing after each other.
  
  "What are the chances he will retaliate?" Jon was worried to leave the little settlement unprotected.
  
  "They have their own defences Jon. You've toured them yourself. You cannot protect every mile of Westeros personally. Anyway, I do not think he will strike at the same spot twice in a row. He will have to justify his losses. If I were him, I would not attack these shores again until I had a way to diminish the threat of the dragons. You had the element of surprise on your side this time, son. Next time they want to face you, they will come prepared."
  
  "I'll put it on our agenda to discuss with Ser Gerold. I better upgrade my armour before there is a next time. A better helmet would not be remiss either. I will need to train with Rhaegal and test our limits in agility and speed. I will also speak to Gendry to see if he can design something I can hang on to when Rhaegal swoops or makes unexpected sharp turns."
  
  "That boy was a find, was he not?" Davos had taken a liking to Gendry from the very beginning.
  
  "He certainly is, and not only for his excellent skills. He has his heart in the right place. An extra point in his favour is that he can become an important political ally. If Stannis has no male heirs, a simple legitimisation could make him heir to Storm's End, one loyal to us to a fault."
  
  Jon took a scroll out of his pocket, his voice even more serious now. "I received another message from Uncle Ned."
  
  "At the sound of your voice, I reckon not everything is going well in the North?" Davos probed.
  
  "He is worried about the situation in the Riverlands. He wants to send reinforcements to the Tullys. He once more complains about Roose Bolton's arrogance but most of all he is worried about his brother, my Uncle Benjen. Maester Aemon has sent a raven to Winterfell informing my uncle that the regular updates from the scouting party beyond the Wall have stopped."
  
  "No good news buried in there at all?" Davos hoped to lighten Jon's mood somewhat and at the same time gain a bit of time to think of an appropriate response to the issues already raised.
  
  "Well, Sansa gets more proposals than any maid in the Seven Kingdoms. And Bran has had no climbing accidents so far, if that can be considered good news." Jon summarised.
  
  "Is sending northern forces to the Riverlands as Uncle Eddard proposes a good plan?
  
  "I do not think it can do any harm to send some support. Not too much mind you, the Riverlanders should not fear an invasion from the North. We can discuss this in our small council later today and formulate our advice to Lord Stark if necessary. About his other news, it is not your place to worry about the Boltons. That is an internal matter for the Warden of the North. Your uncle will deal with that as he has always done. Only if things escalate and he specifically asks for it, can you send him your opinion. This situation with your Uncle Benjen however, I think it is too early to worry. You told me yourself that Benjen Stark warned you that the possibility existed that he would not be able to contact you for some time. Send a letter to Maester Aemon and urge him to keep you informed of every development. Inform your Targaryen uncle where you are in the North and tell him that you are actually getting closer to the Wall every day. If they need your help, all they have to do is ask."
  
  Jon startled. He studied Davos closely. "You would support my flying off to the Wall?"
  
  Davos chuckled at Jon's surprised reaction. "I have seen with my own eyes what you and your dragons can accomplish. I have also noticed you using your mind high up in the air. You followed the initial battle plan but adapted the strategy when the situation evolved. What's more, I know how you feel about those dragons. I trust you not to risk their lives unnecessary."
  
  Once more Jon rested his eyes on the two direwolves. They were now lying on the beach close to one another. He was touched by Davos' belief in him.
  
  "You know Davos, I heard you mention the term "small council" earlier. I think it is time to solidify your position at my side. As soon as I am King, you will be Hand of the King. For now, it is just Hand of the Prince I am afraid."
  
  Now it was Davos' turn to look shocked. "Jon, your Uncle Eddard will not be happy about this."
  
  "I'll talk it over with him. I know he is happiest in the North. He will be a most trusted adviser and can counsel us from Winterfell. I will need my Hand firmly by my side. I do not think he will object. If he does, then I will be the first King to rule with two Hands. To quote my dear friend Sandor ' Surely I can loosen up some dumb rule a long dead corps instated hundreds of years ago' . "
  
  They both laughed. Then Davos turned to Jon a solemn expression on his face.
  
  "I am very honoured my future King. I swear I will always serve you to the best of my abilities."
  
  "I know Davos, just promise not to become a sycophant. Promise me to always speak your mind, even if it means contradicting me. I just ask that when we are in company, you do so with respect. In private I give you leave to scold me like you would a naughty boy. If you do not know how to do that, I suggest you take lessons from Sandor Clegane."
  
  Davos grinned although his eyes were still moist from Jon's words. Then he became serious once more. "I promise. As I said, I will serve you to the best of my abilities, my Prince."
  
  "Thank you Davos, I am sure you will. Now I will retire to my cabin. I need to send a few messages out before we cast off later today.
  
  Jon was finishing his letter to Uncle Aemon at the Wall when he heard a knock. He opened his door and saw Robb hesitating in the doorway a scroll in his hands.
  
  "Can I talk to you about something?" he asked Jon.
  
  "Come in, or do you prefer to talk outside?"
  
  "No, in here is fine." Robb entered and seated himself on a small stool. "It is from my mother." Robb lifted the scroll up a bit. "She wants me to marry Roslin Frey."
  
  "What? Who is Roslin Frey and is it just your mother or does she relay your father's wishes as well?"
  
  "No it is just her. She got some alarming reports from a friend and said I could help father by planting the idea of this betrothal in his mind. Roslin Frey is a daughter of Walder Frey, Lord of the crossing at the Twins in the Riverlands."
  
  "House Frey is currently disloyal to their Lord Paramount and House Stark should reward that by giving one of them the coveted position of mother to the next heir of the North? What is your mother thinking?"
  
  "You take the words right out of my mouth, Jon." Robb sighed. "What worries me most about all this is that I do not think it is my mother's idea." At Jon's frown he added, "Not at first anyway."
  
  "Someone is whispering in her ear? Who would do such a thing?"
  
  "Littlefinger!" both boys exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged looks.
  
  "Great minds think alike." Robb commented. "But all joking aside if that is true, what other nonsense could he have been feeding her?"
  
  "I hate to be the one to say this but she always behaved a bit unnatural with me. Do you remember I once told you she always went out of her way to see to my comfort during my stay at Winterfell although she didn't really seemed to like me? When I learned who my parents were, I realised that it was just an attempt to curry favour with the future King." He noticed Robb's morose expression.
  
  "I am sorry Robb, but this situation requires total honesty if we want to get to the bottom of things. I have nothing against your mother. I just think she is very ambitious. All her actions are driven by this. She goes against her own feelings if it will serve her purpose. Her southern education taught her she must help her husband reach his political potential." He tried to soften the blow for Robb by adding, "I am sure she does what she does only because she wants to help House Tully and House Stark keep their positions."
  
  " Family Duty Honour," Robb recited the words of the House Tully. "Isn't she aware that my marrying a Frey will not help House Tully but do just the opposite?"
  
  "If what we suspect is true, she is being manipulated by a master conniver. I think the best course of action would be to ignore this part of her letter when you respond to her and talk to your father at the first opportunity when you are back at Winterfell."
  
  "You are right. It doesn't sit well with me though. It looks like we're conspiring against her."
  
  "Well, your father could always put the blame on me. He can tell her he can't marry you off without talking to me about it." Jon deliberately planted this idea in Robb's mind. He studied him carefully.
  
  "She would never go for that." Robb didn't get Jon's hint.
  
  "Robb, your father has sworn complete fealty to me when I was just twelve years old. I have the power to do just that and your mother knows that." He held his breath. How would Robb react to this?
  
  Robb was silent for a few moments. Then a big smile lit up his face. "That's the best news I heard all day. Now I am sure they will not marry me off to some ugly old maid. You'll have my back."
  
  Trust Robb's optimism to see only the bright side of things. Jon shook his head and stayed serious. "We will all have to do our duty, Robb. Even I will have to be careful whom I marry."
  
  Robb sobered. "Not an ugly old maid though."
  
  "Not if we can help it, Robb." Jon reassured him. "Let's hope things will work out. After all you are the dashing heir to the North. We will have all the fair maids of Westeros lining up to be your bride. Uncle Ned writes me of new proposals in every message I receive from him."
  
  Rob blushed and dropped the subject.
  
  "Was there anything else in your mother's letter worth discussing?" Jon asked.
  
  "Only the usual. Arya and Nymeria went missing for two days before she was found camping in the woods near Winterfell. Sansa dreams of marrying Prince Joffrey and becoming the Queen of all Westeros. Mother urges me to convince father to accept the King's request. She doesn't understand his hesitation." Robb summarised the content of the very long letter.
  
  "She should. She is one of the few who know that Prince Joffrey has no chance of becoming King and in the unlikely event that he does prevail, House Stark will have been exposed as traitors and will no longer be considered fit to offer him a Queen." Jon remarked matter of fact.
  
  "More proof she is not thinking clearly but is being manipulated. Who knows what Petyr Baelish has promised her?"
  
  "Keep in mind there is still the possibility it could be someone else. If we guessed right though, what could possibly be the man's endgame?" Jon had wondered about his ambitions more than once.
  
  "Rule of course." Robb didn't hesitate. "Perhaps kill father and marry mother. Or Gods forbid, marry Sansa."
  
  "That's taking it a bit far, Rob, even for Littlefinger."
  
  "Never underestimate the man." Robb argued. "Isn't that the very advice Varys wrote to you in his last letter.
  
  "It is." Jon looked pensive. "He wrote about secret messages Baelish sent out to the Freys and the Ironborn. Is he the mastermind behind all this? The Ironborn's attack here at the Stony Shore, the Freys' out of character boldness?"
  
  Jon sealed the scrolls on his desk and rose to his feet. "I have finished here anyway. Come Robb, we will call a small meeting and discuss these developments. You will represent the North. Follow me."
  
  They had taken a light meal first and planned the meeting after. That turned out to be a good decision when new messages arrived during their meal. Sam and Jon immediately started to decipher them. Then they adjourned to a more private location to discuss the new developments.
  
  One of them was a scroll from Prince Oberyn. Decrypting the Prince's erratic code had not been easy. But the gist of the message was clear. Littlefinger had plotted with the Ironborn and Freys. Somehow House Bolton's name had come up. Prince Oberyn suspected they could be involved as well but how and to what extent was unclear. He urged them to take every precaution. He mentioned he was on his way to visit the Wall. He would keep them informed of his whereabouts hoping they could somehow arrange for their paths to cross.
  
  There was a short message from Winterfell, it was marked urgent. Eddard Stark wrote that Theon Greyjoy had disappeared. He hadn't returned after a nightly visit to the brothels. He also mentioned there was still no news from his brother at the Wall. But most importantly, Ned Stark reported that King Robert had started his journey north. He asked Robb not to linger too long and make sure he returned to Winterfell well before the King's arrival. He closed his missive stating he would send a more detailed message later.
  
  A silence fell over the room after Sam and Jon had finished reading these messages out loud. Then suddenly everyone started talking at once. Jon tried to interrupt but didn't succeed at first until he was helped by Davos who banged his fist on the table.
  
  "This will get us no further. Let's address each subject one by one. Everyone will get a chance to comment."
  
  "Thank you Davos." Jon nodded his head gratefully toward his him. "For the record, I want you all to know that I have officially appointed Davos Seaworth as Hand of the Prince." At Ser Gerold's look he continued, "I will not tempt fate by using the other title. You can address him with all your concerns if I cannot be reached. He will coordinate and bring everything to me. Forthwith he has the authority to open all urgent messages that are addressed to me personally if I am not available. He will speak for me then."
  
  Not only Ser Gerold was completely blindsided, the others were surprised as well. Several started to comment, Robb being one of them. Jon stalled them with a simple hand gesture. "I have prepared scrolls to go out to our allies, they all contain my decision." He looked at Robb. "This is the best course of action for now. Things are starting to happen. If something does not go according to plan or in times of crisis we need a clear chain of command. I've explained this to your father in a lengthy letter. He will understand Robb."
  
  Robb nodded and stayed silent.
  
  "Please know I value you all and will always listen to your advice. I urge you to treat me as you have before. This is only a way to work together more efficiently in times of crisis and give Davos a position of authority during negotiations with let's start by discussing the repercussions the King's imminent visit will have on our itinerary."
  
  The meeting resumed. By the time they parted, their journey was delayed for another day to the dismay of Ser Gerold. The additional time was needed to alter several messages before sending them out. Davos had warned them the tides would not be favourable to set out this late in the day.
  
  Jon decided to spend the last night on dry land with his dragons. Jon had noticed Ghost felt a little sick and had told him he could stay behind if he wanted. Ser Arthur accompanied him on the short trek. It was a clear night and Jon was talking quietly with the knight when suddenly five men appeared before them. They had chosen their place well. Jon and Ser Arthur had just reached the middle of a clearing. The five men encircled them and shouted obscene words to intimidate them. Three more appeared but stayed back enjoying the sight before them.
  
  Ser Arthur and Jon both drew their swords. Ser Arthur spoke quickly and kept his voice low but urgent. "Jon, as I taught you, we fight back to back but leave some space between us. Take your dagger out as well. Any chance your pets could come to our rescue?"
  
  "Last I checked the dragons were sleeping. I would need to warg into Rhaegal and that is no option now. Ghost stayed behind because... oh, do you think someone tampered with his food or drink?"
  
  "Jon! To your right!" A big man slashed at Jon's right side. Jon raised his sword just in time to block the attack. The man approaching from the left got a taste of Dawn. Ser Arthur had already crippled one man. 'Good, maybe we still stand a chance', Jon thought.
  
  Seeing his own opponent swing at him Jon ducked slightly and leapt to the left. Simultaneously he thrust Blackfyre forward at an angle allowing him to slip past the man's breastplate and pierce his skin. The man roared and backed away. Immediately another took his place. Jon had to use his dagger to stop the initial attack. He ducked under the man's arm and slashed at his hamstrings. Boiled leather was no match for Valyrian steel and the man fell. Jon adjusted his position to once more defend Ser Arthur's back. He saw the knight was valiantly fighting with his sword in both arms now, his dagger nowhere in sight. Ser Arthur's right arm seemed a bit stiff. Nevertheless the knight deflected their swings and parried without the attackers getting a single hit in.
  
  The smug looks had disappeared from their enemy's faces when they saw how well their targets were responding to the ambush. They changed tactics and attacked simultaneously.
  
  Two men advanced on Jon. With Ser Arthur at his back, Jon realised they had him cornered. He focused all his attention on blocking the strikes, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, swaying left and right to maintain enough distance to deflect the swords away from his body. Jon was getting desperate. He chose the more skilled strokes that came in handy against an opponent with greater strength than him but he had yet to find a big enough opening to do some real damage.
  
  Without really looking for it his eyes caught a sigil on one of his opponent's breast plates.
  
  ' Ironborn ', Jon realised and needed all his mental strength to keep his focus. He was still keeping them at bay but his mind was desperately trying to come up with a strategy to defeat two heavy swordsmen without much room to manoeuvre. Despite the noise the clashing swords made, he could hear Ser Arthur's heavy panting behind him.
  
  The two Ironborn kept coming at him. Jon started to sweat profusely. He rushed blocks to evade their attacks but his movements were filled with lethargy now. His sword that usually felt so light in his hands now seemed almost too heavy for him to wield. He knew it wouldn't be long before they overpowered him. Suddenly Jon felt a nudge in his mind. "Ghost!" he called at the top of his lungs.
  
  A man laughed. "You'll be one soon". Both men stepped forward and sliced at him. Jon barely managed to block the left man's swing and he felt the tip of the Kraken's sword cut his leathers while he dodged the second man's attack by throwing himself on the ground. He tried to roll over and get up again but he wasn't fast enough. He felt the big man grab one of his legs. Ser Arthur fought valiantly but his two opponents were impeding him from helping his Prince, a third at the ready to take over if need be.
  
  'If only Ser Arthur could wield two swords. ' Jon once more cursed his stupidity that had caused the knight to get wounded. Somehow, his frustration gave him extra energy and he managed to kick his free legin the man's face but his opponent just laughed at his desperate action. His partner raised his sword to deliver the final blow while Jon was still swerving wildly in an attempt to liberate his leg from the iron grip and avoid the killing blow.
  
  All of a sudden white fur flashed before Jon's eyes and the man swinging at Jon had his throat ripped out before he even realised the direwolf was there. Jon used this moment of confusion to get out of his predicament and got back up, Blackfyre once more at the ready.
  
  Ghost stood between Jon and his attackers now. They had their swords pointed at the direwolf to discourage the beast from jumping them as well. Ghost snarled at them, blood still dripping from his mouth. While the men were exchanging terrified glances, Jon turned around and faced the two men still fighting Ser Arthur. He had to be careful not to fall over the corpses at his feet. He swung at the man closest to him and cut the Ironborn's sword arm with his second stroke. The man's sword fell to the ground. Jon had no qualms opening the man's throat a second later. His survival instinct had long since kicked in. The man died instantly. Jon didn't waste time and turned around once more, trusting Ser Arthur's ability to face his remaining opponent.
  
  Ghost stood there dripping with blood. A second man lay at his feet with a gash in his throat. Jon could hear him slowly drowning in his own blood. He swiftly finished him off by piercing his heart with Blackfyre. He scanned the area. Apart from the men lying on the ground, the clearing was empty. Those still capable of walking had fled the scene.
  
  Jon immediately went over to Ser Arthur who was sitting on the ground, encircled by corpses. "Are you all right? You are bleeding! Why didn't you tell me your sword arm hadn't healed completely yet? You were unable to wield Dawn with one hand from the very beginning of the fight."
  
  "I'm sorry my Prince. He looked at his arm and saw it was bleeding profusely. Jon had noticed this as well and tore a piece of cloth from his tunic but Ser Arthur stopped him. "We should move somewhere safer first. How far away are your dragons?"
  
  Jon closed his eyes and searched for them. They both were sleeping. He concentrated and warged into Rhaegal to wake him up.
  
  "They are on their way." He helped Ser Arthur to get up and they left the bodies behind as they walked to a big three at the edge of the clearing. "Now let me stop the bleeding and treat your arm. Is this still the same wound from the pirate attack? How is that possible?"
  
  Ser Arthur sighed. "Approximately two sennights ago, it reopened during a rather intense training session. I had hoped it would be okay by now."
  
  "Let the Maester tend to it properly and no more fighting with that right arm before he gives you explicit permission. When it is halfway healed, you can start to train with your left arm for a while. I have seen you do it before." Jon suggested.
  
  Both dragons swooped down and interrupted the conversation. Jon reassured them he was okay and thanked them for coming here to guard them. "I am going to warg back into Rhaegal to see where the men have run off to. I want to know where they are headed." He warned Ser Arthur.
  
  "They were Ironborn, my Prince. What more do you need to know?" Ser Arthur felt exhausted all of a sudden. The adrenaline rush was fading quickly and the pain in his arm flared up.
  
  "I want to prevent them from getting reinforcements. I also do not want them to know about Ghost or our ancestral swords. The less they know about our strengths the better. I would prefer that they cannot report back to Euron Greyjoy what precisely happened here. I reckon it is better to keep him guessing." Jon had finished tying up the wound during his explanation.
  
  He sat back and was ready to warg when Ser Arthur protested. "My Prince, I cannot protect you sufficiently during a long warg session in my condition. Better you ride Rhaegal yourself. You'll be a lot safer high up in the air than here on the ground with me."
  
  Jon looked conflicted at leaving a weakened Ser Arthur alone.
  
  "I'll be fine Jon. Besides you'll be back in no time. They cannot have gotten far." Ser Arthur concentrated on keeping his voice firm voice and his gaze firmly fixed on his Prince. Rhaegal simply lowered his wing making his opinion obvious.
  
  "Viserion, burn those corpses in the middle of the clearing but make sure not to set the forest on fire." The dragon seemed only too happy to oblige. "Ghost, guard Ser Arthur." Jon commanded. He climbed on his dragon and flew off.
  
  Not much later Jon was back. He sat down next to Ser Arthur who hadn't moved an inch and was still leaning against the big tree. He carefully lowered himself next to the knight and told him what he had done. Only three men had made it out of the clearing alive. Since two of them were wounded, they had been making slow progress.
  
  "I saw a small rowing boat on the beach but didn't search to coastline to check if a ship was hidden somewhere. I went back and incinerated both, the boat and the men. Somehow I could not find it in me to be merciful. I felt the same during the latter part of the fight." He turned to Ser Arthur a guilty expression on his face. "Should I be worried? Is this the beginning of the Targaryen madness? Fire and Blood?"
  
  "Jon, during a fight a man's blood gets up. It was a gruelling fight to the death. You had no choice but to be ruthless. You will just have to make sure you rein in your temper and carefully evaluate the circumstances at hand. Each situation will be different. In this case I am not sorry these men are dead. They would have shown us no mercy either."
  
  "Still they were wounded and fleeing. I was not in mortal danger at that particular time."
  
  "They had it coming, my Prince. Besides, you explained yourself why it was a good strategy. Ser Gerold will confirm this during the inevitable debriefing."
  
  Jon sighed and stayed quiet.
  
  "You fought well, Jon. I do not know many swordsmen who would have been able to stave off several larger warriors coming at them simultaneously for as long as you did. I reckon your muscles will be sore in the morning."
  
  Jon did not respond. After a while he turned his attention to Ghost who lay quietly at his feet. "Hey boy, thanks for saving my life! How are you feeling? Jon nudged his mind and felt a slight nausea still lingering in Ghost. "I appreciate you coming all the way to help me. Do you think you can assist us once more? Can you bring a few men with weapons here, men from our pack?" Ghost licked Jon's hand, got up and ran off.
  
  Jon saw Ser Arthur having trouble to keep his eyes open. He knew the knight would not want to fall asleep before help arrived and searched for a neutral topic of conversation. His eyes fell on the unique colouring of the knight's sword. "Why is the metal of your sword so pale? I thought Valyrian steel was usually darker."
  
  Ser Arthur took the sword in his left hand and studied it proudly. "That's because it is not made of Valyrian steel. Dawn was forged from the metal of a 'fallen star'. It is as strong and sharp as Valyrian steel but it is one of a kind. I think your history lessons have been remiss my Prince. Dawn is the most famous sword in all of Westeros."
  
  "Perhaps the Maester didn't teach me because he presumed you would prefer to explain that to me yourself?"
  
  "If that is the case then I must remedy this at once. Legend has it that the Dornish founder of House Dayne followed a falling star to where it hit the ground. At that exact spot, he raised his castle and called it Starfall. The metal of the star was forged into this beautiful sword which is named "Dawn" as you already know. It is the ancestral sword of House Dayne and he who wields it is given the title of "Sword of the Morning". But unlike other ancestral swords, this sword is not automatically passed down from father to eldest son. It can only be held by a member of House Dayne who proves himself worthy of the honour of wielding it by displaying tremendous skill at swordsmanship."
  
  "And if no one is eligible?" Jon was clearly intrigued.
  
  "Then the sword will not have an owner until a new generation of House Dayne yields a worthy owner for Dawn." Ser Arthur explained.
  
  "So it is not sure that Edric will inherit your sword?" Jon knew his friend admired Dawn.
  
  "Have you ever wondered why my nephew has been staying with us for so long? He is heir to Starfall and I am sure his aunt Allyria asks for his return in every message he receives from Dorne. He prefers to train under my tutelage. You must understand that he has grown up with this legacy and wants nothing more than one day to be considered worthy of wielding our legendary sword."
  
  The green dragon stretched his neck and nudged Jon's shoulder. Jon looked at Ser Arthur to see his reaction to being so close to the dragon but Ser Arthur had dosed off. He must have lost more blood than I thought. He was glad now he had not left him and had decided to just send Ghost for help.
  
  He slowly scratched the scales on Rhaegal's cheek. "You were amazing as always Rhaegal. Viserion you were as well." He checked the small fires that had almost died down. He petted the silverwhite dragon. "Do you mind staying here with us for a while? Keep us safe until help arrives?" Both dragons nestled themselves in a wide circle. Ser Arthur and Jon were safely ensconced in the middle. Jon leaned into Rhaegal's flank and closed his eyes. He could rest a bit as well. The dragons would look out for them.
  
  "Why didn't you take at least two guards along?" Davos asked him. Davos and his entire Kingsguard were sitting in their usual meeting room in the tavern. Jon was the only one left answering questions. Ser Arthur had been obligated to leave the room a few moments before at the insistence of the Maester who had overruled Ser Gerold, firmly stating no debriefing could be more important than saving the knight's sword arm. At least Ghost lay loyally at Jon's feet so he did not feel entirely deserted.
  
  "I reckoned one guard was sufficient when I visit my dragons." Jon realised he had been careless.
  
  Davos turned to Ser Gerold. "Didn't you double security after the Ironborn attack? And why the hells was Ghost not there from the beginning?"
  
  Ghost lifted his head and whined quietly.
  
  "Ghost felt sick." Jon defended his loyal direwolf. "I told him it was okay to stay behind. It is possible someone tampered with his food or drink on purpose. I could sense how nauseous he was."
  
  "All the more reason to double your guard." Davos looked over to Ser Gerold. The man looked as guilty as if he had committed treason."
  
  "I apologise, my Prince. I was so busy arranging the security for the next few days that I didn't check your plans for this night. I just assumed you were staying in the building where the risk of an attack was small. I should have checked."
  
  "And I should have mentioned it to you." Jon assumed part of the guilt "Let's learn from this and move forward. I am worried about Ser Arthur's arm. Did you know he had re-injured it a while back and it hadn't healed completely? He used both hands to wield Dawn even before his wound reopened."
  
  Ser Gerold looked at Ser Oswell who just shrugged his shoulders. Sandor straightforward as always was the one to speak up. "Should have known the guy was not just teaching us clumsy fools by letting us spar amongst ourselves or with the boys while he just watched from the side lines. When he corrected me for overextending my fucking backswing, I accused him of being a lazy fucker. Should have realised he was still hurt." Sandor shook his head feeling really stupid.
  
  Davos gave Jon a once over. "Are you all right my Prince?"
  
  "I might have a sore knee come morning. It got twisted during battle. I told you how a strong man gripped my leg. The rest of my injuries are not worth mentioning, just a small cut and some bruises." Jon stretched his leg carefully showing them all the swelling around his knee.
  
  "Have it looked at by the Maester as soon as he is finished tending to Ser Arthur." Davos made Jon promise.
  
  Ser Gerold spoke up. "I insist we still leave as planned tomorrow but not at first light. Davos, I trust the tide will still be favourable if we leave a bit later?"
  
  "Yes, as long as we leave before noon, we should be okay." Davos affirmed.
  
  "Sandor, Ser Barristan can you take over guard duty from Ser Arthur and see to it that Blackfyre and Dawn are cleaned and made battle ready again? Have Gendry check both swords first thing tomorrow morning."
  
  "I will care for Blackfyre myself. I'll have ample time since I will not be able to sleep before I know Ser Arthur is alright." Jon was quick to say.
  
  "Do not tarry too long. And keep in mind I will want a play by play tomorrow, my Prince. You, Ser Arthur and I will analyse this at length. But for now, know I am proud of your fighting prowess. Ser Arthur assured me you did well." He patted Jon's shoulder and sighed wearily. "I'll retire now. I plan to get up early so I can be the one to release Sandor and Ser Barristan from their duties before dawn.
  
  Jon just nodded, sat down and started to clean Blackfyre with an oiled cloth. The slow long swipes calmed his mind. He kept at it for a long time.
  
  The next morning Jon had trouble keeping up with the fuss his friends were making. They were sorry they had missed the commotion last night and were talking about it animatedly, exaggerating and even playacting parts of it. The survivor elation from last night had left Jon. He felt exhausted and terribly guilty. Normally he would go and talk to Davos but Jon didn't think Davos would have much experience with the feelings he was struggling with. He looked up and considered Ser Oswell. The knight clearly had guard duty and was very alert. It was better not to distract him with a difficult conversation.
  
  Sam noticed his distress and nudged Robb. When Robb gave Sam his attention, Sam looked pointedly at Jon. Robb immediately got with program. He left Gendry and Edric to their lively discussion and went over to Jon. Soon both boys were leaving the common room, supposedly to help each other pack. Jon leaned on Robb a bit to spare his sore knee.
  
  They stopped at Jon's room. Ser Oswell opened the door so his Prince could keep his grip on Robb. Jon sighed when he lowered himself to the bed. He moved backwards until he sat up with his back against the headrest of the bed, a bunch of furs supporting his bad knee.
  
  "Is it the pain in your knee that is affecting your mood or is something else troubling you?" Robb decided not to waste time with small talk.
  
  "My knee hurts somewhat when I put weight on it for sure but what do you mean when you mention my mood?"
  
  "I know you think you're handsome when you brood, but now you are overdoing it and it is spoiling your looks. I can't have you destroy our reputation of most handsome cousins in the North now, can I?" Robb tried a teasing tone. "Did something else happen last night?"
  
  Jon was silent for a few moments. When he spoke up he sounded tentative. "Robb, have you ever killed someone?"
  
  "You know I have." Robb frowned. "I wrote you about the ambush last year when I was out hunting with Theon."
  
  "That was clearly a case of self-defence. Have you ever taken a life when there was no direct threat?" He amended his earlier question.
  
  "That occasion was the first and only time I killed someone thus far." Robb stiffened. "What are you trying to tell me, Jon?"
  
  Jon's heart pounded wildly but he wanted to tell someone. He really needed to hear someone else absolve him of this guilt. He took a deep breath. "Last night, when our attackers gave up, the three men still alive fled in the direction of the beach. I called Rhaegal and flew after them. I destroyed their small rowing boat and burned the three men before they could join their ship. Two of them were wounded. I killed three men and it was not in a fair fight, Robb." He hunched his shoulders and lowered his head not wanting to witness Robb's potential disgust.
  
  Robb slowly installed himself on the other end of Jon's bed and faced him. "Why?" he just asked staying very calm.
  
  Jon looked up now. He was surprised nothing more was forthcoming. Whatever he had expected, Robb's patient reaction and willingness to let Jon explain himself further was not it. His subconscious was clearly still struggling with Robb's initial reaction to his parentage. However this was a different Robb. Actually this was the same Robb who had suddenly pulled a 180 and defended Jon to the smallfolk at the Stony Shore. He decided to make a conscious effort to trust his cousin unconditionally once more. The friend he had always known and loved was back again.
  
  Jon repeated what he had discussed with Ser Arthur last night. "It was a calculated move on my part to weaken the enemy, prevent them from revealing our whereabouts and sending others to finish the job, as well as reporting other intelligence. For example the fact that we have skilled fighters, more than decent swords and a dangerous direwolf."
  
  "Sounds reasonable enough," Robb retorted. "It still doesn't explain the ugly brooding."
  
  "I can't prevent myself from feeling guilty. I keep second guessing my actions of last night." Jon admitted. He felt relieved however. The knot in his stomach had loosened a bit.
  
  "Well let me repeat the platitude my father spouted after my first kill. You should be worried the day you don't feel anything when you kill someone. He says he still feels guilty every time he takes a life no matter how justified his actions are."
  
  "That does make me feel a bit better, Robb. Thanks." Jon's lips even turned upwards a bit.
  
  Robb rose from the bed. "Now about packing our things, do you need help or can you fend for yourself?"
  
  "I have it in hand. Thanks again Robb."
  
  "Always," Robb said and left the room adding in the doorway, "You should thank Sam as well."
  
  Jon watched the empty doorway mulling over Robb's cryptic last words.
  
  A few days later Jon sat on the bench at the bow of the deck. Ser Oswell was his faithful shadow this time, but it didn't take long for the familiar figure of Davos Seaworth to appear next to him.
  
  "I see you are wise enough to dress appropriately." Davos opened the conversation. Jon had indeed enveloped himself in a wide coat with a broad fur collar. A harsh wind was blowing and it had gotten decidedly colder. They had been heading further north and were slowly approaching Sea Dragon Point. They would make a short stop there just to make contact with the outside world. Jon hoped he would at least get word from Maester Aemon about Uncle Benjen. They also expected updates from their allies in different parts of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  "How is your knee? Ser Barristan mentioned you were walking around without a limp this morning."
  
  "Much better thank you. I am not yet able to run at full speed or make a sudden left turn, but I'm getting there. I am still excused from sword practice."
  
  Jon looked up when he heard the warning bell from the lookout in the crow's nest. Davos took out his spyglass and searched the direction the boy high up in mast was pointing towards.
  
  A ship approached them from the port side. "It is a single ship." Davos informed Jon. "It is coming toward us at full speed. It won't be long before we can see a banner or a sigil on a sail."
  
  "Just the one ship?" Jon looked relieved. "Then they will not intend to attack. Perhaps they are in need of assistance?"
  
  Davos kept his spyglass trained on the approaching vessel. "Ser Oswell, alert Ser Gerold. It is an Ironborn ship."
  
  "Is it Euron's sigil or the normal golden kraken on a black field?" Jon wanted to know.
  
  Davos handed him the spyglass. "Look for yourself Jon, I am loath to admit it but there is the possibility your eyesight is better than mine." He stood behind Jon and pointed the spyglass in the right direction.
  
  "It is a golden kraken. So chances are it is not Euron. Wait, they are raising another flag, a white flag Davos. Why would they surrender to us if we are not attacking?"
  
  "Well usually in these situations we allow a sloop to approach and after some shouting decide whether or not to allow a small delegation to climb on board to negotiate."
  
  "You know, I would like to have my own spyglass, a small one that fits easily in my pocket. Yours came in very handy when I was high up in the air during Euron Greyjoy's attack. "
  
  Before Davos could reply Ser Gerold was there. "Fill me in." Ser Gerold commanded his voice brusque. He was breathing profusely. He had clearly run the entire way. Sandor, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell arrived on deck as well.
  
  "A single Ironborn ship is approaching fast. It just hoisted a white flag. We suspect it is not aligned with Euron Greyjoy." Davos briefly summarised.
  
  "Sandor, see to it that the chief mate signals our other ships. I want everyone at their battle positions. You are responsible for our crew. We will take no chances. Davos, I want everyone with spyglasses keeping an eye on that ship. Notify me of the slightest movement. And as soon as you can count the number of persons visible on deck, I want to know as well. "
  
  "My Prince, alert your friends and keep Ghost at your side at all times. I would like very much for you to stay inside until we know more."
  
  "I'll be up on the bridge but will stay near the doorway, mostly out of sight. That way I will still be able to assess the situation myself." Jon stood his ground.
  
  Ser Gerold nodded and sighed when he saw his Prince disappear inside. 'Why did we ever consent to this damned journey?'
  
  Interlude 12: Unintended betrayal
  
  Catelyn Stark was confused. Petyr had sent her such disturbing messages lately. Now he urged Robb to marry Roslin Frey. What was that all about? The Freys and the Tullys didn't get along. He had lived in the Riverlands and knew that. The Freys were cowards, manipulating thieving cowards. Catelyn hated the toll she had to pay each time she passed through the Twins when she went to visit her kin. I didn't help her one bit that she was the daughter of their Lord Paramount. They insisted on charging an exorbitant fee for her crossing each and every time. Besides, could you imagine seeing her handsome son married to an ugly Frey? No, she didn't understand Petyr at all this time. What's more, he even hinted at a betrothal between Sansa and Domeric Bolton. As if she would let her innocent Sansa join such a cruel house. Had Petyr given up on the betrothal of Sansa and Prince Joffrey? Did he know something that hadn't reached her ears yet? Surely King Robert had not already promised the Crown Prince's hand to another fair maiden?
  
  Life at Winterfell was getting complicated. First there was this vile Ironborn ward they had been ordered to take in. He had taken Robb to visit a brothel when her son had not yet celebrated his fourteenth nameday. The Kraken was arrogant, vulgar and extremely disrespectful sometimes. No, she didn't like him at all. When she complained to Ned about it, he just shrugged and said there was nothing he could do. As long as the King considered him a hostage, Ned would have to do his duty.
  
  Then there was that entire business with his nephew. That was a hornet's nest if ever there was one. Thanks to that situation, Ned was hesitant to betroth her Sansa to Prince Joffrey. If not for the existence of the Targaryen, Sansa could be Queen. One day she had been so frustrated that she had betrayed her ambition to Ned and asked him straight out why he did not simply betroth Sansa to Jon Targaryen if he was so sure the boy would be King one day. Ned had just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent.
  
  Theoretically Robb had already reached a marriageable age. She knew for a fact that Ned received countless betrothal proposals but as far as she was aware, he hadn't accepted a single one. It was vexing. Petyr was right, her husband had not the slightest sliver of ambition. Perhaps she should have listened to him all these years ago but she had stood by her husband like a lovesick puppy. Now she was not that sure anymore that she had made the right decision. Even the message suggesting he could be named Hand of the King if Lord Arryn died, filled Ned with dread. Not because he would mourn the loss of his foster father but because her husband didn't want to become Hand of the King. He didn't want to live in King's Landing. Catelyn on the other hand would love nothing better. She was confident her children would thrive there. Well perhaps not Arya, but she was still young. Sansa and Robb could make excellent matches in the capital.
  
  Well, she was only the Lady of Winterfell and had to obey her Lord Husband. She sighed. Ned had become more distant after the birth of Rickon. The Maester had warned her after that difficult birth that the chances she would deliver another healthy child and come out of it alive herself were slim. Ned had comforted her by declaring that his three sons and two daughters were a greater blessing than he ever would have dared ask from the Gods. He had started to sleep in his own room, at first not to disturb her sleep because of the baby that hindered her night's rest, but later he had used the excuse of working late, lots of meetings and visits from his bannermen. Ned had started to travel more surveying several projects in his large Kingdom. Slowly but surely he had grown more distant. She had retreated into her cold southern manners and he had changed back into the quiet solemn man of the first year of their marriage, one who confided in her less and less.
  
  Catelyn blamed Jon or Prince Aegon for that matter. Of course she hadn't uttered a word to Petyr about all this. She wasn't stupid. She preferred her own head firmly fixed on her body but she had sent him little titbits about Ned's reluctance to leave the North. The amount of trouble he went through to keep the North's strength up and several other little details Petyr often enquired about. Lately he had become increasingly interested in the whereabouts of Ned and Benjen. In his last letter he had even asked a lot of questions about Robb. She had always trusted Petyr but now she was starting to get wary.
  
  However he had written her that if she got Robb to marry Roslin Frey, that she, Catelyn Stark and not her husband the all and mighty Warden, could take full credit for restoring the peace to the Riverlands and help her family who had gotten themselves into trouble by demanding unreasonable things from their vassal house. Littlefinger had suggested the King could take away the Tuly's status of ruling house if the troubles persisted.
  
  She looked outside. The sun was slowly losing its heat. It was time to fetch her daughters and visit the Sept.
  
  "Why do I always have to visit the Sept with you when Robb, Bran and Rickon do not have to? They can visit the Godswood. I like the Godswood better. Even Jon worships the old Gods mother." Arya protested.
  
  Ever since Arya had returned from her forbidden trip to the Stony Shore, she talked of nothing but Jon and his direwolf or Jon and his cool friends. Arya would be the death of her. If only she had been a boy, then her attitude could be explained. But no, it was up to her to make a Lady out of Arya, a Lady suitable to marry an important Lord to improve the connections of House Stark, not that Ned seemed bothered with that. He indulged Arya, turned a blind eye when Robb included her in the sword lessons he sometimes gave Bran and Rickon when the Master at Arms was too busy. When Catelyn dared to protest he just waved her concerns away and ordered her to let Arya be. She was just as his sister Lyanna, a female wolf of Winterfell. Ned had such an endearing look on his face when he talked about his sister. Yet Catelyn didn't want Arya to become a second Lyanna. The Gods forbid!
  
  She saw Arya looking up at her expectantly. Apparently her prolonged silence had given the child the hope she wouldn't have to pray to the Seven today. Catelyn was tired of fighting this uphill battle with Arya. She relented for now. She would pick her fight with this child when it really mattered. She would find her a husband capable of handling her.
  
  "Off you go then. The Gods will only hear prayers from people who are truthful in their beliefs. But I will inspect your room later and I will punish you if it is not in pristine condition," she added to sour Arya's victory. "Come on Sansa, I belief the Gods have waited long enough."
  
  Sansa followed her mother like a docile sheep. Catelyn didn't suspect that Sansa envied Arya her freedom. Sansa just didn't like to contradict her mother. She hated conflicts and always tried to keep the peace. So she put her own wishes and feelings aside for now, but one day...
  
  Arya ran off before her mother could change her mind. Not seeing where she ran she bumped into Lady Brienne of Tarth.
  
  "Hey watch where you are going." The lady admonished.
  
  "I am sorry." Arya was genuinely sorry. "She admired Lady Brienne greatly. Loras Tyrell had told her that Lady Brienne had bested more than one knight in single combat. She had been a sworn sword to a Prince but Loras wouldn't tell her why she wasn't any longer.
  
  "I was looking for you actually," Brienne of Tarth said to Arya.
  
  "For me? Not another chore please?" Arya pleaded.
  
  "Well, if you consider it a chore, take it up with your father, girl. He wants me to teach you to fight. I am to give you daily lessons."
  
  "For real, fight with a sword?" Arya looked at Brienne disbelief shining out of her big eyes.
  
  "Sword, bow, dagger and whatever I deem necessary." Brienne was convinced Arya would be a most eager pupil.
  
  "Mother agreed to that?" Hope now filled the young girl's features.
  
  "I have my orders from your father. I think he trumps your mother." Lady Brienne raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
  
  "Can we start today?" Arya was getting excited now. No more stolen moments when Robb could spare the time. Robb had not been home for ages and as a consequence she had not had any real training since that short session with Jon at the Stony Shore.
  
  "We will go to the armoury and gather everything you need. It will be getting dark soon anyway. We start tomorrow morning. I must warn you though; I do not know how long I will be at Winterfell. However for the time being, you'll be getting daily lessons in the morning. We will meet every day after breakfast. I have cleared it with your father. He will arrange your other lessons to start after our session when you have freshened up and put on some decent clothes."
  
  "Will you still train with Loras?" Arya asked.
  
  "Of course, Loras and I need to stay in shape. Hopefully we can both return south soon. Perhaps I can serve his father."
  
  "Why can't you serve here in the North, or better even serve Jon? He has knights in his service. Perhaps he can make you a knight as well."
  
  "Who is that? I haven't met a Jon here at Winterfell?" Brienne asked.
  
  "Jon Celtigar, he is kind of my adopted brother. It was him Robb and I visited at the Stony Shore. Robb is still there. Jon can fight really well. Robb says he has the best teachers in the entire realm in his service. Not one but three highly skilled knights. I do not think you would be able to beat Jon. Robb says he can't. I am sure you would love to spar with those three knights." Arya told her, the excitement evident in her speech.
  
  "When I have the opportunity to speak to your Lord Father again, I will ask him about that." Brienne now realised that the object of the girl's hero worship was none other than the peculiar Jon Celtigar she had encountered in the Riverlands a few moons ago. She doubted the man would be looking for a lady protector having met the three former Kingsguards he had surrounded himself with not to mention the formidable Sandor Clegane. She clearly remembered how exited she had been when they had allowed her to join a sparring session with them one morning shortly before they had to part because she would follow Benjen Stark to Riverrun. She had relished the opportunity and had learned several new moves.
  
  Of course she had not been able to beat any of the knights. She had lasted a bit longer against Sandor Clegane, but only because she had used a few dirty tricks. Her ego had been hurt by the brevity of her previous bouts and she had been desperate for a win by then. She hadn't won against Sandor Clegane either in the end. The man however had shaken her hand and had declared her a bonny fighter. Jon Celtigar had come up and congratulated her. He had laughed and informed her that this was the first time he had ever heard Sandor use such a pretty word.
  
  "Celtigar is not a Northern name?" This young man had intrigued her from the very first moment that she had met him and his direwolf. She was eager to find out why he was such a close friend to House Stark. When Arya had mentioned the term adopted brother her mind had conjured up his image and she had to admit that he somewhat resembled Arya.
  
  "He normally lives at the Driftmark but he is travelling now." Arya replied absentmindedly. She was picking up all kind of fighting tools and armour and putting them down again. Brienne helped her select the pieces that would best suit her height. Arya accepted them gratefully. She couldn't wait for tomorrow morning.
  
  Brienne let her off the hook for now but would make sure to get Arya to talk about this Jon some more in the future.
  
  That night at the dinner table Arya hugged her father. "Thanks, father," she whispered her little arms clinging to him. Ned smiled indulgently. "You welcome, Arya. You can thank me by paying attention and obeying Lady Brienne's orders, even if she makes you repeat a move a hundred times."
  
  Arya's smile only grew wider at hearing her father's statement. "That's exactly how Jon said he learned to fight and Jon is the best."
  
  Ned returned her smile and wished she wouldn't grow up too fast. He felt Catelyn touching his arm and turned his attention to her. "What was that all about?" He heard her ask, the dismay apparent in her tone.
  
  "Arya will be given formal fight training starting tomorrow. As long as Lady Brienne of Tarth is here she will oblige us by performing this service for us. It is how she will earn her upkeep for the time being. I'm still looking into an official position for Loras. I hope Robb will return soon. He can shadow my son in his duties around Winterfell."
  
  "How can I make Arya a fitting wife for a Lord if you train her like a warrior?"
  
  "The two aren't mutually exclusive. Haven't you ever heard of Prince Oberyn's daughters? They are some of the fiercest fighters yet their beauty and elegance is well known."
  
  Catelyn looked appalled at that. "You mean that Dornish Prince with his eight bastards? You dare compare my daughter's prospects with these bastards?!"
  
  "Keep your voice down woman. This is no conversation for the dinner table." He softened his tone. "I am sorry, it is just... ," he tried again. "Never mind, perhaps you would be willing to join me in my study after dinner? I have received some scrolls and there might be things of interest to you in there."
  
  "Request for betrothals?" Catelyn's mood brightened immediately.
  
  "Aren't there always? Yes, amongst other things. Has Sansa told you about that new book she is reading?" Ned thought it wise to bring up a neutral subject.
  
  Later in his study, he sipped from his ale and waited patiently until his wife had settled herself and arranged her frock around her to her satisfaction. He offered her a glass of wine but she refused politely. He didn't insist any further. Best she kept a clear head.
  
  "Lord Arryn died as you already know. The King is looking for a new Hand." Ned saw Catelyn eyes widen in interest. "I have received a scroll announcing his visit. He is coming to Winterfell. I do not have to spell out what that means."
  
  "Will you accept, Ned? Will we live in King's Landing?" Catelyn tried to hide her excitement but didn't really succeed.
  
  "I will accept but mind you, I intend to wait a few days before I give him my decision. You must promise me not to reveal anything beforehand." His voice had taken on the now familiar authority.
  
  "Why would you do that, Ned?"
  
  "Because I want to be in a strong position when I refuse to give my consent to an immediate betrothal between Prince Joffrey and Sansa. I will stall as long as I have to. If ever I am forced to give him a definite answer concerning the betrothal, it will be a refusal. Do not doubt that Catelyn."
  
  "Would it be so terrible to betroth them?" Catelyn tried.
  
  "She is too young. Besides you know that Prince Joffrey will never be King. Why would you insist on this betrothal? You just have to trust me when I say there are other things in play. Things I'd rather not tell you yet. It is too dangerous with the entire royal court coming here."
  
  "You have worked yourself in a real bind here, Ned. Do you thing I like being the wife of a traitor all because of a single baby? Sometimes I hate the fact that he exists. You have lived most of your life in the shadows because of that boy."
  
  "Enough woman! You do not know what you are talking about. First of all, do not speak that way of my royal nephew in my presence ever again. He will be your King sooner than you know it. Furthermore, you should know that Joffrey Baratheon isn't worthy to kiss Sansa's feet. You will soon see for yourself what kind of person he is. That's all I am going to say on this subject for now."
  
  Even though her husband was in a bad mood, Catelyn didn't give in and defended her point of view. "You are spoiling all our children's chances. Do you know what it has come to? Do you know what Petyr suggested? He counsels that our Robb, the heir to the North, should marry a Frey." In her frustration and anger she betrayed the very thing she had kept a secret for all these years.
  
  "Petyr? You mean Lord Baelish? Littlefinger? What has he to do in this discussion? Do not tell me woman that you have been corresponding with that man behind my back." Ned was getting angrier with every word his wife uttered.
  
  "What if I have? He is my friend. We grew up together." She defended herself.
  
  "He is a social climber, a leech, a conniver. If you only knew what plots we have had to thwart that were instigated by ' your friend' over the years. He would see us all beheaded if he could gain anything by it. Gods woman, that man is dangerous. Lord Reed has helped us escape several of his assassination attempts, most of them against me. Once he even targeted Robb at a time that he was still our only heir."
  
  "I do not believe you. Petyr is our friend. You must be mistaken." A bit of doubt was creeping into her voice though.
  
  "He is no friend of mine and you know that very well. Why else would you conceal your correspondence from me during all these years? How did you send your letters? Does he send you messengers? Are there spies in Winterfell I should know of?"
  
  "No! I just had to leave them in a secret spot in Wintertown. Petyr had someone pick them up. I do not know who or when. Each time I went to the market I would check for a new message." She looked really guilty now.
  
  "I want you to go and retrieve each and every letter he has ever written to you. Do not even think to hide a single one from me. I want you to go and fetch them now." He studied her and saw the recalcitrant look upon her face. "Better still, I will come with you. Then you will proceed to tell me every little piece of information you have fed him. To think the spy we were looking for in Winterfell could have been you! Do you realise what you have done, woman?" He had stopped every effort to reign in his temper and wasn't sorry for intimidating her.
  
  "Ned you are scaring me." She pleaded openly now.
  
  "I am scaring you? You are scaring the wits out of me! Catelyn, you have no idea what that man has done over the years." He literally dragged her out of the room.
  
  Ned thought he had known what to expect but the amount of scrolls Catelyn presented him with defied his imagination. "Hells woman, did he write to you every moon during our entire marriage? There must be almost two hundred messages here. Did you send a reply each time?"
  
  "No, I skipped sometimes. You will notice when you read his letters. He often complained he did not hear from me often enough. He also implied he wrote as often to Lysa and she always replied."
  
  "Can you point me to the most recent ones? I will read those first." Ned was at a loss. He still couldn't believe his eyes.
  
  Catelyn complied keeping a wary eye on her husband while he read Littlefinger's latest messages.
  
  He asks quite a lot of you. Ned stated after he had read the five most recent ones. He threw them into her lap. "Now tell me exactly what you replied to them."
  
  This was her chance to show her husband she had known what she was doing and had played Petyr as much as he had played her. "I can help you out there Ned. You will see I kept my answers vague. I always kept in mind that our heads would be forfeit if I let something important slip. She went back to the cupboard and took out larger sheets. I always drafted my messages before writing the final version so as to have an immaculate version to send. You know I am a stickler for cleanliness. Well as an act of good faith, I will let you read every word I send to Petyr."
  
  Looking grim, Ned took possessions of these sheets and started reading. After a while he looked at her anxious face. "Thanks Catelyn, this reassures me slightly. I haven't read them all yet but I can already get some measure of things now. You did reveal just enough to keep him interested in corresponding with you, but nothing too harmful, at least not in these two I have read. A few things in there I would have preferred to keep from him but it could have been a lot worse."
  
  "I am sorry, Ned. I will not write to him again." She seemed a bit mollified with his initial appraisal.
  
  "No, I think you should keep writing to him. Only we will write your messages together and try to get him to reveal his schemes. He is no friend or ours, Catelyn. You need to believe me when I tell you this. I will take all of these scrolls into my chambers and tomorrow we will reconvene. I will then systematically expose every false statement and scheme in his letters so you can start to see your Petyr for what he really is. By the way, what did you make of the vague rumours he mentioned? The ones about the royal children including your dear Prince Joffrey being Lannister bastards?" he was curious now knowing her strong prejudice against bastards.
  
  "Just vile rumours, Ned. Petyr states as much, rumours started by enemies of the Lannisters. The Prince is such a handsome boy. Everyone knows that he can't be some vile bastard."
  
  "You and your southern views! Have you ever theorised about the concept of bastards? You condemn innocent babies and still pay your respects to the parents who are the ones to commit the sin. Jon is already wiser than you are by far. He wrote to me once that they should call the fathers bastards, not the innocent babes. And by the Gods woman, he has the right of it. If only you would let yourself think on it."
  
  "Bastards are born with evil in them. They threaten trueborn children." She parroted her beliefs.
  
  "No wonder they lash out if you treat them so unjustifiable. You start with an innocent baby, Catelyn. Try to think for yourself for once in your life and not repeat the words of some ignorant Septon. A child who has never done anything wrong in the world gets mistreated by everyone, is sometimes cast out completely and you wonder why it retaliates?" He took a deep breath.
  
  "Bastards, damn I really hate that term, I mean children whose parents are not married, are to be pitied anyway. They stand to inherit nothing. You should give them at least a good education. Teach them a craft so they can earn their own living later, not unlike second sons. But I am getting off topic. What if the rumours were true? What if I accepted a betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey and he turns out to be a bastard?"
  
  "Gods forbid Ned, you are right to stall as long as possible." Catelyn's world was turned upside down by this notion. The golden Crown Prince could not possibly be an evil bastard? Surely these were just rumours?
  
  Ned sighed. "I am going to leave you for now, Catelyn. I will need plenty of time to study all this. Help me carry the scrolls to my room if you will." He shook his head. It would be a long night for him.
  
  Ned was astounded at the poison contained in Littlefinger's subtle letters. He began to understand some reactions of his wife better. Her stubborn views on some topics, the silent blame game she sometimes had going with him. The man had poisoned their marriage from afar. And not only that, he had subtly let it be known he would always be there for her if ever something happened to her husband, even going so far as suggesting marriage. No wonder Baelish had been plotting his death.
  
  The more he read, the angrier he got. He would have to talk to someone about this but to whom? His brother was still incommunicado beyond the Wall. Howard Reed was a possibility but with the King's imminent visit Ned could not leave. Perhaps Lord Reed would want to come here? Unlikely but he could always ask. He envied Jon his circle of advisers. Ned had only one person left here in Winterfell he trusted with his life, someone wise and neutral enough to give a valued opinion. He would go and speak to Maester Luwin. If necessary he would postpone the talk with his wife.
  
  But first, he would have to write a letter to the Vale. He needed Lord Royce's assistance to thwart another of Littlefinger's schemes. Somehow Baelish's letters to his wife had given him an insight in the man's conniving mind. He wouldn't tell Catelyn this, but a welcome side effect of her irresponsible behaviour was that they had the opportunity to prevent losing the support of an entire Kingdom to their cause, one they had considered to be firmly on board.
  
  He should make an effort to get his marriage back on track. He didn't want to grant Petyr even this small victory. Catelyn was his wife. He would ask the Maester to start giving her moon tea. It had been too long time since he had last bedded his wife. Good sex had always been an easy way to persuade her to his side. He realised he was not entirely blameless. Petyr Baelish would never have had such an influence on Catelyn if he had paid her more attention.
  
  Notes:
  
  Next chapter several decisions will need to be made.
  
  Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys has to deal with more than one suitor.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Decisions
  Chapter 13: Decisions
  
  Summary:
  
  A tentative alliance is struck and several decisions are made.
  
  Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys has to deal with more than one suitor.
  
  Notes:
  
  I do not like Alliser Thorne so he doesn't exist in my universe and the Master at Arms at the Wall is someone else.
  
  One of the reasons why I wrote this fanfic is that I believe GRRM created an intriguing world but watching the show I concluded that they missed several lost opportunities, the small impact of the direwolves being one of them.
  
  I want you all to keep in mind that this story takes place in an alternate universe and that allows me to play around with the characters as much as I like. The only rules I follow are my own rules.
  
  My version of Jon is totally different from Jon in the show. At seventeen he is bossing everyone around and embracing the fact that his destiny is to become a benevolent King. My version of Daenerys has lived a sheltered life and is the opposite of the power-hungry must be queen you see in the series.
  
  Another heads up: Khal Drogo appears on the scene. He is also OOC but do not make the mistake to think he is not smart. His broken speech may make it appear so, but the fact that he is the only Dothraki who made the effort to learn to communicate in a strange language is already a sign of his intelligence.
  
  I'll stop my rambling here and let you read the chapter. I hope the plot will stay intriguing enough to keep you all interested, even those of you who would prefer other pairings.
  
  Decisions
  
  Edric, Robb and Sam had joined Jon on the bridge. They were watching the Ironborn ship. A small boat had been lowered into the water with three people on board. They had brought the white flag along. Jon used the spyglass he had borrowed from the chief mate.
  
  "It is Yara Greyjoy!" He exclaimed.
  
  "The Ironborn you saved from the pirates?" Robb asked. "What would she want with us?"
  
  "Isn't it obvious," Sam addressed Robb. "The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Jon has successfully attacked Euron Greyjoy. That makes him her natural ally. She will be here to seek his aid. The fact that she survived means she is on the run."
  
  "The enemy of the enemy is your friend? What a strange phrase." Robb repeated Sam's words with a frown on his face.
  
  "I read it in a very old book. It makes sense if you think on it." Sam replied a sheepish smile on his face.
  
  "Let us join the others on deck. Even Ser Gerold will agree that Yara Greyjoy and two lackeys pose no real threat to me." Jon was already making his way down.
  
  "My Lady," Jon greeted her as took her hand to help her on board.
  
  She accepted his hand with a tense nod of her head.
  
  "Your weapons please?" Ser Gerold would not take any risks.
  
  "I do not carry any." Yara's answer was abrupt. Then she turned around and ordered the two men to row back to her ship. "Come and get me when you receive my signal," she ordered them and then faced Jon and his entourage.
  
  "See, I come alone and in peace. I trust you will offer me guest rights and not chain me, my Lord?" She addressed her question to Jon, not Ser Gerold.
  
  "Of course, this way please." He showed her to the cabin where they took their meals.
  
  Jon watched her partake of some bread and salt and ate a small piece as well. He saw her relax before his eyes.
  
  He signalled Davos and Ser Gerold to take a seat at the small table. A significant look at Sam resulted in his friend ushering everybody out. They went willingly confident they would get a full briefing afterwards.
  
  Robb, however, stayed behind. "I wish to represent the Warden of the North in this negotiation."
  
  His commanding tone was answered by a small smile from Jon. "Pull up a chair then." At Yara Greyjoy's questioning look he added for her sake. "My Lady, may I present to you Lord Robb of House Stark, son of Eddard Stark, heir to Winterfell and future Warden of the North. I trust you still remember Davos of House Seaworth and Ser Gerold?"
  
  Yara nodded, her gaze lingering on Robb. So this was the foster brother Theon had written about all these years. At first, her brother's letters had described a disgustingly endearingly relationship with the heir but lately not so much anymore. Several moons ago he had written to her that the Starks had gotten complacent and he was finally able to sneak messages to her when he stayed in Wintertown. Finally, she received unbiased accounts that weren't read by the Starks before he was allowed to send them to his family. He stressed that he hated the Starks and that they would pay for his captivity sometime in the future. It appeared her brother had stayed an Ironborn in exile.
  
  Yara made an effort to refocus on the situation at hand and continued to stare at Lord Celtigar. She guessed he was the dragon rider if the stories were to be believed. At least that way she could explain why a young boy was in charge of this strange mix of characters.
  
  Jon answered her stare with one of his own. He decided not to waste any more time and opened the talks. In a determined voice, he fired his first question at her. "How did you know where to find us?"
  
  "Everyone who has ears heard Euron Greyjoy's frustrated outburst when he returned to Pyke with less than half of his men."
  
  "So we know for a fact he survived the attack." Ser Gerold stated the obvious. "We assume your father was deposed when Euron Greyjoy first landed on Pyke?"
  
  "Uncle Euron killed him. The bastard didn't even have the courtesy to offer him an honourable death. I was not at Pyke at the time so I only heard of it from Ironborn at Pyke still loyal to me. I am not entirely sure whether I got a faithful report or an exaggerated account of their final confrontation. They all describe how Euron Greyjoy acted like a madman and how with a single nonchalant gesture he pushed my father of the bridge separating the two towers of Pyke, all the while laughing as a madman. They told me my father's head got crushed against the foundations of his home before disappearing beneath the turbulent waters. His body was never found."
  
  Yara's voice betrayed no emotions. She also waved away any attempts at sympathetic remarks that Jon and Davos started to make. Without further ado she got back to the business at hand.
  
  "Ever since his defeat at your hands, my dearest uncle makes sure to monitor your movements. I still have loyal men living on Pyke. One of the reasons I came here was to warn you."
  
  "Your warning has no value. We already know we made an enemy who is not honourable and will ambush his prey after sundown. Did you not hear about that from your informants as well?" Jon undermined her negotiating position.
  
  "We could help each other." She ventured neither admitting nor denying that she knew of the ambush.
  
  "How convenient for you," Davos intervened. "And what could you possibly offer us? If you have reliable spies, then you know we defeated his superior force and suffered not a single casualty on our side."
  
  "You can't be everywhere at once. I could tell you where he plans to hit next," she insisted. "Or perhaps what countermeasures he is devising."
  
  "And lead us into a trap?" Ser Gerold decided to voice his doubts.
  
  "Why would I do that? Actually, how would I do that?" She focused on Jon once more. "I figured out how you set that pirate ship on fire from afar."
  
  "Then you know we do not really need any help." Davos objected trying to divert her attention from Jon's role during the attack.
  
  Jon studied her. "Is there some way you could prove your claim that you are on our side?" He realised she was right about not being able to be everywhere at once with his dragons. However, admitting that would not only undermine Davos but also weaken their position in this negotiation.
  
  "You control my brother's fate and you know I want him by my side." Yara tried.
  
  "Not good enough" Jon countered and remembered uneasily that they didn't know where Theon was at the moment. For all he knew, the Kraken was halfway to Pyke running straight into his uncle's arms. Yara wouldn't be pleased to hear her brother could well be about to be slaughtered by Euron Greyjoy. He threw a warning look at Robb. He hoped Robb would not mention that Theon had escaped.
  
  "King Robert controls Theon Greyjoy's fate," Robb spoke up for the first time. "The Starks are only obeying royal orders."
  
  "As if a friend of a dragon is a true friend of Robert Baratheon." Yara sneered. She paused to consider her options. "I could," she faltered then resumed, "I could offer myself up as a hostage."
  
  Jon shook his head. "Would your men still be loyal to you if you did that? Could we still trust the intelligence they would bring you? As far as I know the ways of your people, if they do not believe you strong enough to lead them, they will look for someone else to follow. In spite of your uncle's recent setback, he is probably the only other candidate they can turn to if you are our captive. You are of no value to us then."
  
  "You forget my brother Theon. The Ironborn could rally behind him. He would vouch for me."
  
  "Now you are grasping at straws. Your brother is not a free man and he has not lived on Pyke for many years. Will they still see him as a true Ironborn?" Jon's hopes of forging a fruitful alliance were dwindling. "Aside from endangering our relationship with the royal family by releasing him, the chances of Theon Greyjoy and me agreeing on anything are rather slim."
  
  Ser Gerold intervened. "We are talking in circles here. I have yet to hear a single reason why we should become allies."
  
  "Is there any useful information on Euron Greyjoy you can give us right now? Anything that is substantial enough to prove you can be trusted?" Davos calm tone was meant to counteract the downwards spiral the conversation was making.
  
  "You mean spill it all without any promises on your end?" It appeared Yara was getting desperate.
  
  "What do you really stand to lose? We already helped you by weakening Euron Greyjoy's position. Technically you owe us this." Jon relished having a stronger negotiating position.
  
  "He is looking at the South right now. He is searching for rich lands that are not so heavily defended." She admitted with apparent reluctance. "I heard him speak of the Reach and Oldtown."
  
  "I thought you came to warn us. Which is it? Will he sail south or will he come for us?" Ser Gerold didn't really see the point in continuing this interrogation.
  
  "Even if he takes part of his fleet south now, he has a vendetta against you, Lord Celtigar. He will keep tracking your movements and strike when he believes he has found a weak spot. But I admit he will be more careful and you probably have bought yourself some time before he tries anything again."
  
  Jon looked at his camp a question in his eyes. Davos shrugged his shoulders but cleared his voice and spoke up. "My Lady, will you step outside for a bit? We want to discuss this amongst ourselves. We won't take long I assure you."
  
  Jon couldn't stop himself from taunting her and immediately added to Davos' request. "Oh, do be careful not to step on my direwolf who is guarding the door from the outside. I believe he doesn't like Krakens all that much."
  
  If Jon expected Yara Greyjoy to be upset by this dismissal and his jibe, he could not have been more mistaken. Yara was looking visibly relieved and did not hesitate to leave the cabin.
  
  A bit later, Jon joined her on deck and called Ghost to him. He escorted her to the port side. Together they watched the crew on the deck of her ship attend to their duties. "You seem to run a tight ship." Jon complimented her.
  
  Yara shifted her position a little keeping a wary eye on the big wolf that hadn't left her side and was even now worming himself between the two of them.
  
  "Ghost," Jon's commanding tone had an immediate effect. The direwolf retreated and curled himself in a peaceful position at Jon's feet. Jon patted his head affectionately.
  
  Yara tried to keep her composure at this blatant exhibition of power from the young Lord. She just threw a questioning look at him.
  
  Jon decided to comply. "We propose to keep in contact as tentative allies. If your help proves substantial we will consider supporting you to take back control of the Iron Islands. No formal promise yet, just a declaration of intent, one with great potential on your side if you deliver on your promise. You can signal your ship now to pick you up." His tone clearly indicated that negotiations were over. This was a take it or leave it deal.
  
  "I'll take it." Again there was no hesitation on her part.
  
  Jon realised coming to them had been a desperate move on her part, some sort of last option with bad odds. He looked thoughtful when she asked. "How do you propose we keep in contact, Lord Celtigar?"
  
  He noticed that she had taken out a small mirror and used the reflection of the sunlight to signal her crew. Jon waited patiently until she had finished. He made a mental note of this useful trick.
  
  "While we wait we can agree on some code words to disguise the true meaning of our messages. If your spies on Pyke are as reliable as you claim they are, they can tell you where to send them. If one of your messages requires an answer from our side, just use the code to tell us where to send it."
  
  "You will not tell me what your plans are? I cannot fathom what you intend to achieve sailing this far north with two large fire breathing dragons?" Yara was curious. If only she could control those fearsome animals the way he seemingly could, she would have conquered half of Westeros by now.
  
  "All in good time. Let us first wait and see how this alliance will evolve." Jon stated his face staying neutral.
  
  When Yara was safely on board of her own ship, Jon sought out Sam and Davos. He ordered for a message to be prepared destined for Lord Tyrell. It contained the warning of a possible imminent Ironborn attack on the Reach. The message further detailed that they counted on Lord Tyrell as the Lord Paramount of the Reach to alert Old Town, the Arbor, the Shield Isles and any other likely target along the coast and the Mander River. Jon urged Sam to formulate a message to his father, Lord Tarly as well. Davos could sign it, but his family needed to be warned.
  
  Slowly the little harbour of Sea Dragon Point came into view. This time it was Sandor Clegane who was standing next to Jon at the bow watching the ship approach the shore.
  
  "What are we going to do in this godsforsaken place? I can almost smell that ice wall from here." he muttered wringing his cold hands together."
  
  ' Not a single f-word', Jon didn't voice that thought but was amused. 'Perhaps years of talking with polite company would slowly change his speech patterns?' A loud curse interrupted his musings. ' Or perhaps not .' He turned to Sandor. "Whatever is the matter, Sandor?"
  
  "I just bumped my knee against this fucking crate trying to regain my balance after that stupid shift in direction." He looked at Jon and narrowed his eyes. "You didn't answer my question boy. What stupid shit are we doing in this cold and godsforsaken place?"
  
  "I hope to receive some messages. Our allies knew this was the next point they could reach us."
  
  "Okay, so don't tell me, I can live with that but do not lie to me boy."
  
  "I'm not." Jon tried.
  
  "But you're not telling either." Sandor didn't relent.
  
  "Sandor," Jon started.
  
  Sandor held up his hand. "In future, just say straight to my ugly face you won't or can't tell anything at the first time of asking. Then I can respect you, boy. You know full well I resent cunts that talk but say nothing."
  
  Jon smiled. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I do expect some messages though."
  
  "Worried about your uncle, boy?" Sandor tried a different tactic.
  
  Jon rolled his eyes at the third mention of the word boy in this short conversation but then his face darkened. "Yeah, it is the longest I have gone without a sign of life from him. I'm very worried."
  
  "It will all be set to rights. That's why we're fucking here anyway." Sandor stated matter of fact enjoying the look of shock on Jon's face. "Don't worry, I won't tell if you won't." He grinned to reassure Jon and sauntered off when he saw Robb approach, Greywind at his heels.
  
  Jon and Robb had spent more than two moons together. Their bond had been tested but Jon knew with absolute certainty that Robb had accepted his new reality and was one hundred per cent on board now. He suspected Robb would have a stern talk with his father though.
  
  He had watched how Robb had made good use of this journey. After seeing Jon interrogate the garrison commander and assess the threats during their first stop at the Stony Shore, his cousin had started to do the same at all the other settlements they had visited next. He now had a full report prepared for his father and had told Jon that he was satisfied to know more about the situation in the Kingdom he was destined to rule one day.
  
  Travelling with Jon had made Robb realise that being heir to the North meant taking responsibility and not just giving some random orders from far away. He had decided he would ask his father to let him take an active part in seeing to the welfare of the people of the North.
  
  "Hi," Robb said when he reached Jon. "Why are you hiding out here?"
  
  "I'm standing in plain view, Robb. I particularly enjoy watching a ship enter the port and anticipate the joy I will feel when my feet can touch dry land once more."
  
  "Not really a sailor?"
  
  "Nope, but I realise it can be a convenient means of travelling. I fear you've come to tell me you'll be leaving us soon?" Jon looked at the serious face of his cousin.
  
  "Only if I can't convince you to travel to Winterfell with me." Robb attempted one last time.
  
  "I can't Robb, not yet, I've told you my reasons."
  
  "Yeah, a guy can try though. I hate that we need to part. I hate it even more that I do not know when we will see each other again. "
  
  "I have a feeling it won't be long before that happens, Robb." He sighed and changed the subject. "I worry about the content of the messages that await us. I know it is unrealistic to presume Varys has been able to deflect every rumour of dragons flying around Westeros. I'm anxious to know which version of the story is circulating over there. A lot of my plans will depend on that."
  
  Robb studied him. "It may still be too early to evaluate whether the rumours have done some damage." His jaw shifted slightly. "I know the content of at least one message already." He mimicked his mother's tone. "Robb please hurry home, love mom."
  
  "Let's pray there is one from Uncle Benjen." Jon stared in the distance, his eyes not really taking anything in. Both boys sighed simultaneously.
  
  Plenty of messages had indeed arrived, none from Uncle Benjen, but one from Uncle Aemon. Plenty of scrolls from their allies and as expected a message marked urgent from Winterfell addressed to Robb.
  
  The message from the Wall was the first one Jon opened. It contained no new information about Uncle Benjen. His mission north of the Wall was taking longer than expected Maester Aemon wrote. Both boys were disheartened. The rest of the letter contained a request to search for something called obsidian but Jon put it aside for now and was about to ask Robb to read the urgent message from Winterfell at once when he noticed his cousin had already opened the message from his father.
  
  Robb summarised the content aloud to Jon as he read. As expected he was called home immediately. The King had been spotted crossing the border into the North. The messages detailed the route the royal caravan was taking. Uncle Ned wrote he had taken precautions to lead them past Moat Cailin with a guide and had given instructions to the castellan to keep the smallfolk hidden while the caravan passed. The guide would take the abandoned old road where some ruins could still be seen so as not to raise too many questions. The improvements at Winterfell alone would be more than enough to make the Lannisters suspicious.
  
  Robb put the letter down and described the improvements his father had made at Winterfell after Jon's visit when he was twelve. "A second fortified wall has been built that encompasses a large area around the original one that still serves as a second layer of protection to the castle. The new fortifications contain an impressive gatehouse flanked by two slightly protruding watchtowers built at just the right angle to provide additional protection. The new inner courtyard created between the new and the original wall houses several workshops and large stables. To the south, the gap between the two walls widens significantly to make room for extensive glasshouses."
  
  He resumed his perusing of his father's letter. "He also writes about Arya's safe return. Oh, she is taking official fighting lessons with Lady Brienne of Tarth now. I also must thank you on father's behalf for the beautiful sword you have given Arya. There should be a small thank you note from her addressed to you personally included in here."
  
  Rob rolled out the entire scroll and a small piece fell from it. "That must be it." He handed it to Jon who tucked it away to read it later. He gestured for Robb to continue.
  
  Father mentions that Loras Tyrell is making himself useful and he believes him to be an upstanding young man. He suspects Sansa to have a little crush on him but nothing serious. The boy ignores her so he doesn't worry." Robb falters. "Oh, I should have kept that part to myself." A repentant smile flashed over his face before he frowned. "Do not let on you are aware of this."
  
  "Listen to this shocking titbit." Robb's voice betrayed his surprise. "The black sheep Theon has returned to Winterfell of his own volition. He claims he had just left on a short adventure with friends and didn't realise his absence would cause such a stir. Father doesn't know what to make of that but keeps a guard on him at all times now. He is relieved this situation has been resolved before King Robert's arrival."
  
  Robb read on in silence for a bit. Then he put the letter down. "The rest are just some insignificant internal family matters except for one thing. It appears Domeric Bolton, Roose Bolton's eldest son and heir has lodged a formal complaint against his bastard half-brother Ramsay Snow. Apparently this Ramsay Snow has committed hideous crimes against the smallfolk. Domeric Bolton begs my father to deal with this because Roose Bolton doesn't consider it serious enough and just laughs stating the boy is going through a phase. Domeric Bolton petitions the Warden of the North to use his authority over his father. Lord Stark should order his bannerman to protect the wellbeing of the smallfolk living in and around the Dreadfort."
  
  "Does your father write how he intends to deal with this matter?" Jon was appalled by what he had just heard.
  
  "My father explains his options are limited because he cannot travel to the Dreadfort. He is stuck at Winterfell due to the imminent royal visit. He has written a stern letter to Lord Roose Bolton. He will monitor the situation and if necessary will ask the Greatjon or Lord Karstark to pay Roose Bolton a visit. Under no circumstance am I allowed to travel there. My protection detail is too small and the Boltons could well keep me hostage until he allows the betrothal of Sansa to his heir. He stresses once more he needs me at Winterfell and wants me to arrive as soon as possible."
  
  Robb rolled up the scroll and tucked it away. "I guess that means I will arrange for my journey home. I'll alert my houseguard so they can pack their things and see to it that our horses are among the first to disembark." He looked at Jon with a reluctant expression. "And all of this because of a Usurper coming north. I wished you could come along and take the Baratheon King hostage at Winterfell."
  
  "I know," Robb relented when he saw Jon's exasperated expression. "I do know you told me several times why this is not a good idea. A man can dream, can't he? Can I ask Edric to accompany me to Winterfell, and perhaps Gendry and Sam also?"
  
  Jon looked thoughtful. His first reaction was to deny Robb's request instantly but was he allowed to dictate all their lives just like that? "You could ask Edric what he prefers to do, I reckon." He hesitated. "Sam and Gendry on the other hand, I'd rather you didn't approach them. I need them with me for one and you would put them in an awkward position. Sam is probably going to leave for Oldtown soon anyway. I am sorry Robb."
  
  "I understand, Jon. It was just an idea. I finally found company my own age I can stand to be around. You do realise I have to go back and live with Theon at Winterfell once more?"
  
  "You have plenty of siblings, Robb. If we play the pity game, I win. Do not forget Loras is at Winterfell too, probably counting the days until you show up. You know your siblings enjoy his company at Winterfell. Hells, we only knew him for a bit over a sennight before we had to part ways in the Riverlands but that was long enough to see he could fit right into our little circle.
  
  "Well, if I may call dibs on Edric and Loras, you can have Sam and Gendry." He joked. At Jon's serious expression he stopped his teasing. "Jon, I didn't mean it that way. I'll just issue an open invitation to Winterfell to Edric whenever he feels like it, nothing more and nothing less."
  
  A tentative smile ghosted over Jon's face. "Now if you will excuse me, I really need to scan the other messages from our allies and have a quick talk with Davos. If there is anything of interest in them I will tell you later when I give you the letters I have prepared for Arya and Uncle Ned. I am certain I will need to add a few things to Uncle Ned's letter so let me attend to that first. That way I can make sure I'm finished with the most urgent things long before you are set to leave. I also have to fetch the small gifts I prepared for your family. I wouldn't want Sansa, Bran or Rickon to think I only like you and Arya."
  
  He saw Robb's quizzical look and with a teasing smile on his face, he continued. "Don't worry, we'll make time to say a proper goodbye and share at least one more meal and then you can have your present. No need to be jealous, I have one for you as well."
  
  Robb nudged his shoulder playfully and Jon patted his cousin's back a few times in return. Both boys hurried to finish their tasks so they could still spend some time together later.
  
  One last time the five boys enjoyed a joint meal. They made a pact to always be friends and to do their utmost to keep in touch. If anyone of them ever needed anything, he had four loyal friends to call upon. Gendry had been touched to be included in this circle. He had slowly but surely become at ease in this little group even though he had been subjected to relentless teasing when he had asked Robb whether there was any news of Arya in his message from Winterfell. He had turned red when he defended himself by saying he just wanted to know if she had arrived home safely.
  
  After elaborate thanks to Jon, Robb had turned to Gendry and praised him as well when he finally received his gift just moments before they were about to leave. Somehow Gendry had found the time at the Driftmark to execute an additional order from Jon. He had made a beautiful dagger for Robb. The handle ended in the same miniature direwolf's head as the pommel of Arya's new sword, only the colour of the eyes was different. On his dagger they were yellow.
  
  Much to Jon and Ser Arthur's surprise, Edric had agreed to accompany Robb to Winterfell for a short visit. Edric had apologised to Jon but explained that the opportunity to meet the fat King Robert and his entourage had been the compelling factor.
  
  When Robb and Edric set off, the three that stayed behind together with Ghost had climbed a little rise and had waved until the small caravan taking the heir back to Winterfell was no longer visible. Ghost had whined quietly needing comfort from Jon. Jon surmised his wolf would miss Greywind just as much as he would miss Robb.
  
  Walking back to the tavern, Jon made sure to talk to Sam. "Would you be willing to help me with something Sam?" Jon asked.
  
  "You know I will," Sam simply replied. "Ask away."
  
  "Come to my room and I'll let you read the letter I got from Maester Aemon. He describes exactly what I need you to do." Jon opened the door of the tavern and let Sam pass through it watching the boy intently. "Have you noticed lately that your clothes are getting somewhat too big for you?" Jon remarked. "You should ask the maid here to help you adjust them a bit. You're not sick, are you Sam? Do you know why you have been losing weight?"
  
  "Well I am training more than I used to and I do not get dessert when we travel." Sam tried to joke. "I don't mind though, I've never felt better and do not tire so easily. You need not worry about me."
  
  The boys waved at Gendry who had told them he would retire to his room. Davos had found him a book with drawings of all kinds of armour, bucklers and helmets and he wanted to look at it some more.
  
  "Glad to hear it." Jon reacted to Sam's statement. They had entered Jon's room. "Let me find this letter first."
  
  "You get a lot of messages, Jon." Sam studied the content of his bed. "Are these all new ones? I hope you have a filing system."
  
  "Mostly new ones. Things are starting to move fast and we need to communicate a lot. Here, I found it. I scribbled the decoded lines between the original ones." Jon handed him the letter.
  
  "Obsidian? Volcanic glass? I will hit the books as soon as I fetch them from the ship. I will need to look for a place where there used to be an active volcano. I bet there will be lots of volcanic glass on Old Valyria, but don't worry, I'll do my best to find a more accessible location." He looked at Jon. "Anything else you want me to do?"
  
  "Actually yes, I would like you to go to the Citadel and forge your chain. I need a Maester. The Wall will also need a Maester to replace my Uncle Aemon. However, I would vastly prefer you to consider entering my services. Go to the Citadel, be my ears and eyes there and come back to my side once you have forged your chain. The Wall is not a place anyone would volunteer to be at right now. It is the most dangerous place of Westeros."
  
  Jon paused and looked at Sam a serious look in his eyes. "I know it will take you a while to come back but keep in mind that Dragonstone and the Driftmark are not that distant from Oldtown. I will find reasons to meet and I will write to you constantly."
  
  "But my father," Sam stammered.
  
  "What would you do if you didn't have to deal with your father? What would you chose if it was just you deciding your own fate without any outside pressure."
  
  "But that is not the case, Jon."
  
  "Sam, I have some very powerful people behind me. If all goes as planned I will be powerful in my own right. You need not face your father. Lord Eddard Stark can write to him that you are studying at the Citadel on the orders of the Warden of the North. He can formulate it in such a way that your father will presume you are destined to become a Maester at the Wall even if he doesn't write it explicitly. This will buy you even more time to decide whether you really want to relinquish your right to Horn Hill. If you want it to go to your brother, I can draft a decree that he becomes the heir no matter whether you join the Night's Watch or become one of my most trusted advisers. If you want to claim your birthright and become the next Lord of Horn Hill, I can make that happen as well. You can choose whatever you want and we will deal with your father. We can make sure you never need to speak to him again, Sam." Jon looked him in the eyes. "Promise me you will make a decision factoring out your father's wishes and solely considering your own."
  
  Sam took a deep breath. "If I take my father out of the equation, my decision is an easy one. I choose you, Jon. If you or Lord Stark can really convince my father, I relinquish my rights to Horn Hill. I will serve you in any way you deem fit."
  
  Jon hugged Sam. You will make an excellent Grand Maester, Sam." He asserted.
  
  "Grand Maester?"
  
  "In time and only if I get to be King. You have the potential, Sam. Nobody understands and retains knowledge as you do." Jon smiled at Sam's shocked expression.
  
  "Grand Maester." This time the words were uttered with reverence. "I want to see my father's face if ever that happens and he learns of it. It will be priceless."
  
  "You will outrank him." Jon shared his hypothetical triumph.
  
  "So how do we go about this?" Sam asked.
  
  "I'll write to Lord Stark today, Sam. You have until this evening to change your mind."
  
  "I won't."
  
  "Good." Jon looked relieved. "Could you find Davos Seaworth? I still need to go through all these messages with him. And thank you, Sam. I really appreciate your decision. We will make the best team Westeros has ever seen. I hope it will not take you too long to forge your chain. I warn you though, I won't let you leave for Oldtown before you teach me an adequate filing system to arrange my scrolls." Jon smiled.
  
  Sam returned his smile and left the room to find Davos.
  
  Jon and Davos secluded themselves in Jon's room and screened all the messages. The most important development was that Varys confirmed Stannis Baratheon had left Dragonstone. He and his household had moved to Storm's End. The King had not yet decreed who was to take possession of Dragonstone. Apparently he hesitated to give temporary custody to Lord Velaryon and let him install a castellan for the time being. The King was still debating which noble house he needed to buy a favour of by granting them Dragonstone.
  
  Then there was the letter from Princess Daenerys informing him of her newly arrived suitor, Prince Quentyn Martell. The next one was from Prince Oberyn who warned him once more about a possible conspiracy between Freys, Ironborns and Boltons and informed them he was sailing from Seagard to the Wall with his daughter Nymeria. He also wrote of Prince Doran's one-sided action to send his heir to Essos to betroth himself to Daenerys Targaryen. Although the warning came too late, Jon was sure Prince Oberyn had been ignorant before.
  
  A knock on the door interrupted them. Ser Oswell entered, a tiny scroll in his hand. "An urgent message from Maester Aemon, my Prince."
  
  "Thank you Ser Oswell." Jon's tone clearly implied he would read this as soon as Ser Oswell had left the room.
  
  This short message complicated matters. Davos and Jon discussed at length how to juggle all the issues at hand. The decision made, Jon wrote various messages and dictated some to Davos as well. When most of it was finished, he sent Davos to fetch Sandor Clegane. The three of them would visit his dragons. Afterwards, Davos would have the difficult task to relay Jon's instruction to the rest of their group. They would not be best pleased, to say the least.
  
  A bit later Jon waved at Ser Gerold who watched his Prince leave with Davos and Sandor Clegane. Each of them carried a bag with some provisions. Nothing out of the ordinary if he wanted to stay out all night with the dragons.
  
  Jon and Davos were busy discussing some last moment details when Sandor took two big steps to draw level with them. "What's up? Why did you ask for me to come along when you know I do not like to spend an entire night close to big fire breathing creatures. And what the hells are you two whispering about?"
  
  "I'm sorry, Sandor. I'll tell you when we get there. We're almost there anyway." Jon shifted the bag he was carrying to his other shoulder.
  
  "You plan to stall me so I can get no word to the others to try and stop your dumb plan? You think I'm stupid, boy? You think you can play me?" The three of them had stopped walking.
  
  "No, I do not think that. I reckoned you were probably the only one who would understand and let me go. That's why I asked you to guard me tonight. I made sure you will not have to face Ser Gerold's wrath. I have a written statement prepared for him. Besides Davos will have other instructions that will demand all his attention. He will have no time to take it out on you." Jon reassured his friend.
  
  "I ain't afraid of a fucking scolding. I only want you to swear to me you will do everything you can to come back alive. No hare-brained schemes, you hear."
  
  "I hear you, Sandor, loud and clear. But I have to do this. Maester Aemon forwarded me this small note of Uncle Benjen. Here, read it yourself." Jon handed Sandor a small scroll.
  
  Maester Aemon,
  
  We have walked into a trap north-west of the Fist of the First Men. The dead surround us. We are currently dug in and can defend our position for a few days still. Without outside help, we won't last a sennight. Only send help if you deem fit.
  
  Benjen Stark
  
  "What did Maester Aemon advise?" Sandor asked his eyes still fixed on the small message trying to find some hidden meaning.
  
  "The fact that he forwarded this to me says it all. He just writes what I deem fit, he will deem fit." Jon explained. "The Night's Watch can never reach them in time. Maester Aemon warns me that chances are the enemy keeps them alive to lure reinforcements. The more souls, the more victims they can enrol in their army of wights. I have to go, Sandor. I am their only hope. We know that this enemy can be destroyed by fire. You have witnessed how powerful my dragons are. I can help. Hells, I am the only hope they still have at survival."
  
  "What are you waiting for then, kid? I would come along if I could but I guess I will have to sit this one out. Damn!"
  
  "You could help me with something else. Support Davos. Escort him back as soon as I have flown off. But most of all stand by him if Ser Gerold doesn't agree immediately with the orders Davos will give him on my behalf. Promise me that."
  
  "I'll do what I can, boy. Now, where are those fire-hazard pets of yours? Do you need any of these provisions?" Sandor took the bag from his shoulder to show what he meant.
  
  "Actually he does. He intends to secure them on Rhaegal's back." Davos' voice betrayed his doubts about the feasibility of such a thing.
  
  "Well, I sure as hells will not be helping him with that. And I reckon you will not either. Gods, they have gotten even bigger since last I saw them." Sandor exclaimed when he spotted the dragons at the opposite side of the clearing they had just entered. He put the bag he was carrying on the ground. "That's as far as I am going, boy. Better say goodbye to me here," he said uncomfortably.
  
  "Thanks for everything, Sandor. I promise to be back soon." Jon said awkwardly not knowing if a more tactile gesture would be welcomed by the large man.
  
  The dragons sensing Jon's mood met him halfway in the middle of the clearing. Jon petted them and then leaned against Rhaegal, silently communicating with him in images. Then he addressed Viserion. "I need your help once more. One of my kin is in trouble. Will you follow your brother?" Viserion tilted his big head so his right eye could stare into Jon's. Jon felt a strong wave of empathy coming from the dragon.
  
  "I just need to fix something on your back Rhaegal. Will you let me try?" Rhaegal lowered his wing, eyeing the three bags suspiciously.
  
  There was no easy way to attach the bags to Rhaegal's back. Jon decided on another tactic. He attached the strings of two bags and placed them where he would sit, each bag dangling on a flank keeping the other in balance. Jon's own weight would have to keep them in place during the flight. The third bag would stay behind. Jon couldn't attach much weight to his own body. It would hamper maintaining his equilibrium during the flight. He would need his agility to ensure he did not fall off if the dragon had to change course abruptly. He waved goodbye to the two loyal men standing at the edge of the clearing and mounted Rhaegal. Both dragons immediately took to the air.
  
  Davos kept gazing at the sky until Jon could no longer be seen. "What an amazing sight. At the speed he is travelling it won't take him long to reach Castle black. Let's head back. We will need to start making plans. Jon intends to invade Dragonstone." Davos picked up the bag Jon had left behind and handed it to Sandor Clegane.
  
  "About fucking time if you ask me. I have been waiting for this ever since he told me he plans to fight for the Iron Throne." Sandor threw the bag over his shoulder and started to walk in the direction of the tavern.
  
  "You two just let him fly off?" Ser Gerold exclaimed a bit later in their small meeting room.
  
  "He gave us an order. We had no choice. Do you think you could have stopped him?" Davos countered Ser Gerold's question with one of his own.
  
  "Do you think the dragons would have allowed you to stop him, is the better question here, Davos." Sandor baited Ser Gerold.
  
  "The Prince and I discussed everything this afternoon. He promised he would be back in a few days. He also devised a strategy to deal with some new developments. He asked us to make the necessary preparations and send out messages in the meantime. He has assigned us many tasks. We will hardly have time to worry about him." Davos checked his audience. Only Ser Gerold had a frown on his face. The others seemed to accept their Prince's decision. "But first let me explain why he left for the Wall."
  
  After Davos and Sandor had finished their explanation Ser Barristan intervened seeing Ser Gerold still needed to be placated. "Our Prince had no choice, Ser Gerold. He would never have been able to live with himself. Put yourself in his shoes. The uncle he has looked up to as a father all these years is in mortal danger. Add to that the fact that he has these two powerful dragons and has a very good chance to save the man's life. How could you even expect him not to try and help? You heard Sandor and Davos. The Prince has vowed solemnly to take every precaution and has ensured them he will come back alive. He will not take unnecessary risks."
  
  "It is out of our hands now anyway, Ser Gerold. Better use your energy to carry out the instructions he left behind." Ser Oswell spoke up for Jon as well.
  
  "This is the first time in seventeen years none of us is around to protect him. Excuse me if I have trouble accepting this. Not only are we not there to protect him, he is rushing headlong into a dangerous situation toward an unknown enemy, without threat assessment or battle plan."
  
  "I respectfully disagree, Ser Gerold." Ser Arthur had seen this coming and was ready to defend his Prince. "There is a firm battle plan in place. He has taken two powerful weapons. We know the weakness of this enemy is fire. Jon's plan is so simple he did not need to discuss strategies first. Trust him Ser Gerold. You surely noticed the way he handled himself when he took on those twenty ships. He adhered to the plan of Davos, did not overreact. He deliberated and reacted wisely to the changed circumstances. You do remember he retreated before all ships were destroyed as soon as he saw the archers nock their arrows?"
  
  "What's done is done." Davos tried once more. "Let's focus on this new development. Jon wants to invade Dragonstone. You will need to hear how he intends to do it."
  
  Absolute silence. Then Sandor interfered. "Come on. It's about fucking time we moved forward with the conquer all of Westeros plan. Admit it."
  
  "Varys sent word that Stannis Baratheon has left for Storm's End and has taken his household with him. King Robert is still undecided on whom to gift Dragonstone to. He isn't leaning towards our proposition of installing a castellan under the supervision of Lord Velaryon. He is making a list of nobles he wants to placate and will probably grant it to one of them. We have a window of opportunity here. We must act and claim the island now." Davos saw several heads nod their assent at his impassioned speech.
  
  "What does our Prince propose?" Ser Barristan was curious.
  
  "He asks us to prepare everything for departure so we can leave immediately upon his return. We need to send word to the Driftmark. He wants at least forty ships to be fully staffed and ready to set out. One ship is to make its way there as soon as possible under the cover of a trade mission. The crew of that ship must consist mostly of people of Valyrian descent. Perhaps even crewmembers we recruited from Dragonstone in the first place. They will mingle among the smallfolk and start rumours of a Targaryen Prince returning home. Jon is sure by the time we land most of them will flock to our side. The ship's crew will also infiltrate the castle and assess the situation there. They will send word back to the Driftmark and if all goes according to plan, we will arrive and bring the rest of the fleet with us. He foresees a peaceful occupation."
  
  "Right now we must also send word to Lord Manderly at White Harbour. Jon has prepared an official order to his Master of Ships informing him of the situation and how he must deploy his ships. A copy of this letter will be sent to Lord Eddard Stark as well. He wants to migrate half of the fleet at White Harbour to Dragonstone. That will mean an additional sixty ships. Lord Manderly must make them operational immediately. The plan is to start moving them after he receives confirmation that we have taken possession of Dragonstone. Each day a convoy of five ships will leave White Harbour and sail to Dragonstone.
  
  Once they are all stationed there, we will have over one hundred ships and two dragons at our disposal. Nobody will be able to cast us from the island. At that stage, we can start planning our next steps."
  
  Davos paused but nobody spoke up so he continued. "I have to prepare letters to all our allies informing them of the situation. We also need to get the word out to Prince Oberyn. He is sailing north with his daughter. They will perhaps want to change the destination of their journey."
  
  "Why now in all this haste?" Ser Oswell objected. "King Robert is travelling north. Surely Dragonstone will stay vacant for many moons still."
  
  "Jon fears the situation will escalate now that word of the dragons is spreading. He wants to have a home base that is easily defendable. It is actually a smart move. Can you think of a safer place, in Westeros I mean, once his cover is blown?" Davos defended Jon's strategy.
  
  "As long as the Prince is with us when we travel to Dragonstone, I agree. Has anyone noticed we are on the wrong side of Westeros? We have a very long way to go. Did he mention how he wanted to travel to the Driftmark?" Ser Gerold enquired. It seemed he was willing to heed Jon's instructions.
  
  "Not precisely no. But I think he will want to take the quickest route. Perhaps you can work on a proposal by the time he comes back? You also need to know about the research Samwell Tarly is doing. Apparently the enemy north of the Wall has another weakness. Maester Aemon has written about a material called obsidian. It is some kind of dark volcanic glass that can destroy wights with a single touch. It doesn't matter where you stab them. The Free Folk, or Wildlings as you call them, have a few pieces of it but too few to make a difference if the enemy comes at them with superior numbers. Jon wants Samwell Tarly to try and find more of this obsidian."
  
  "Did he describe this material in more detail?" Ser Arthur asked a curious expression on his face. Then he turned to Ser Barristan. "Do you not recall the time we lived with Prince Rhaegar on Dragonstone? There were some caves on that island, near the beach. The Prince once showed them to me saying all that glitter against the walls could just as well have been more rock. He envied the Lannisters their gold mines. The Targaryens got stuck with mines that only contained some sort of dark glass. It would cost more to mine it than the profit it would yield. The only use he saw for it was to make small ornaments or jewellery from it."
  
  "I never went inside so I can't really confirm this. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a look. One more reason to go to Dragonstone." Ser Barristan looked at Davos when he uttered his last sentence.
  
  "I'll alert Samwell," Davos promised. "This information could substantially shorten his search."
  
  "Ser Barristan?" Davos used this opportunity to relay Jon's orders to the knight. "Jon wishes for you to depart for Essos when we reach the Driftmark. He wants you to sail to Pentos the same day the others receive the intelligence from our scout ship that it is safe for them to occupy Dragonstone. If all goes well, the Princess will be in Westeros by the time her safety and comfort can be guaranteed on Dragonstone."
  
  "I will be honoured to escort the Princess home." Ser Barristan said truthfully.
  
  "Sandor can you organise messengers and ravens? You can ask Sam to assist you. I want a messenger to make haste and catch up with Robb Stark if he can, or travel all the way to Winterfell himself if he cannot. A raven to White Harbour is also a top priority. This raven needs to be followed by a messenger carrying the official decrees. Furthermore, we need to prepare ravens for our allies." Davos proceed to cite names. "
  
  "Can you write that down for me? The only way to ensure I will do this right and not fuck it up." Sandor complained.
  
  "Excellent idea, I'll do that right away." Davos addressed the entire group now. "Let's all start so we can reconvene before supper.
  
  In the meanwhile, Jon had made good progress. He was glad he had dressed warmly. Sandor had been right all these years ago. You really could freeze to death if you weren't careful. Luckily Rhaegal's body heat warmed Jon's legs and lower part of his body. If Jon got too cold he opened his mind a bit further and let Rhaegal's warmth flow through his body. The dragon even enjoyed these moments of unity. Rhaegal and Viserion didn't seem to mind the cold, at least not yet.
  
  It was rather dark when Jon landed south of Castle Black. He hoped the dragons could remain undetected until he had a chance to speak to his great-great-uncle. As far as he had been able to make out from high up in the air, all eyes on top of the Wall were surveying the lands north of the ice structure and were not paying any attention to what flew in from the south.
  
  He had to knock on the gate several times before he heard a noise. He saw a small hatch being opened and a guard peak through it. "Who goes there? State your name and purpose."
  
  "My name is Jon Celtigar. I received an urgent message from your Maester. I am alone. Let me in so I can explain in more detail inside." He spoke with an authority that had an immediate effect.
  
  Jon heard a command being shouted. Moments later the large door opened slowly. Ten heavily armed men of the Night's Watch watched him enter. 'I am glad they are taking their safety seriously. I must, however, talk to Jeor Mormont about guarding the south at night as well. ' Jon mused while he entered.
  
  He noticed Jeor Mormont hurrying towards them. "What is the meaning of all this?" the man's voice boomed over the courtyard. "Why has the gate been opened?"
  
  "A visitor has arrived. He claims he was summoned by Maester Aemon, Lord Commander." The guard who had let Jon enter explained.
  
  "Jon Celtigar," Jon introduced himself. "We met several years ago, Lord Commander. I need to speak to Maester Aemon on business that cannot be delayed. It concerns the scouting party Benjen Stark has accompanied."
  
  Jeor Mormont scanned the courtyard. "Did you come here on foot or did you just drop out of the sky?" Mormont now recalled the strange boy that had visited the Wall when he was just a kid. He also remembered how the boy had been cooped up inside the Maester's study for large parts of his days.
  
  "We do not have time for this." Jon tried to govern his temper. "Do you want the scouting party to come back alive or not?"
  
  "And you will make a difference how exactly?" The Lord Commander asked in a condescending manner.
  
  "Does it really hurt anyone to let me speak to Maester Aemon? I told you before he requested my presence and will be waiting for me as we speak." Jon tried once more to get the man to comply. He was getting impatient. Every moment of delay could mean possible disaster for the scouting party.
  
  "The Maester is probably asleep by now." Mormont really didn't know how much stranger this situation could get. "I repeat: did you come here on foot?"
  
  "Never mind, I can find my own way." Jon swiftly ducked one man and quickly disappeared into the building where he knew his uncle lived.
  
  Jeor Mormont signalled his men to let him be. He would sit back and let the situation unfold. How much harm could one boy cause anyway? The Watch was safe. "Look outside and see if you can find a horse or a wagon. And ask the men on top whether they have seen something suspicious coming in from the south."
  
  Jaremy Rykker hated to give the bad news to his Lord Commander. "Lord Commander, did you forget you specifically ordered all eyes to be directed north?" He hesitated to elaborate how his superior had justified his command by stating the Wildlings no longer scaled the Wall since their tentative pact and the threat to the north was a top priority now. He also wanted to be alerted at the first sight of his loyal men returning and to do that they had to watch the north side.
  
  Jeor Mormont sighed at the words of his Master at Arms. He had sent his most experienced ranger, Qhorin Halfhand and a promising young ranger Edd Tollet alongside Benjen Stark on this ridiculous scouting mission to prove that the White Walkers had risen again. He was eager to see his best men return.
  
  Rykker tried to placate his commander. "I will personally scout the area outside the south gate. If there is something out there, trust me, I will find it."
  
  "Take enough torches with you. It is already dark out there. And do not go too far. You can always restart your search tomorrow at first light." Mormont agreed to his request.
  
  Jaremy Rykker, formerly known as Ser Jaremy Rykker a member of House Rykker a noble house in the Crownlands and fervent Targaryen supporter had ended up at the Wall after the Rebellion when the defeat of Prince Rhaegar at the Trident had meant immediate doom for all Targaryen loyalists. Given the choice between death and the Wall he had taken the latter and chosen to live. He had made a life here and worked himself up to Master at Arms. He took a torch in his hand, lit it and exited the courtyard. He motioned the guards to stay back. He would go alone. He would make a half-hearted attempt just to appease his Lord Commander. It was pitch dark outside. The search would be fruitless now anyway.
  
  After a while, he decided to give up. The only thing he had noticed was some faint light and smoke coming from the woods more than four miles from the Wall. If the young Lord had hidden his co-travellers there, they would still be there for him to find on the morrow. He memorised the position of the smoke and went back inside.
  
  In the meantime, Jon had reached the door of his uncle's room without encountering further resistance. He knocked and entered not waiting for an invitation. A young steward was reading something aloud and startled at the unexpected stranger that entered. Clearly nobody had heard his knock.
  
  "Maester Aemon?" Jon called for his uncle.
  
  Pyp, leaves us, please. You can retire. I will no longer need your services tonight." Sensing the hesitation of the young man the old Maester added. "Do not worry. This is a good friend who has come a long way to pay an old man a visit."
  
  Pyp rose and smiled apologetically at the newcomer.
  
  Jon introduced himself. "Lord Celtigar. I'm pleased the Maester has such loyal friends. Thank you Pyp." The young man's smile broadened and he left the room reassured the old Maester would be okay.
  
  "Aegon, did you travel here on Rhaegal?" Maester Aemon couldn't conceal his curiosity any longer. "Where did you leave him?"
  
  Jon was taken aback by the sight of his uncle. The man had not aged well these last few years. He tried to keep his tone light in order to hide his shock. "Actually I brought both dragons, Uncle. It is already rather dark outside and nobody was watching this side of the Wall. And yes I did fly here on Rhaegal's back. It is an amazing thing, Uncle to fly through the air like that. I landed and told both dragons to wait for me in the woods several miles south of the Wall. As far as I can tell nobody suspects a thing."
  
  "And here I thought our defenses had improved over the years. I will have a word with the Lord Commander about this." He tilted his head toward Aegon. He had heard the young man settle down on the small stool he had used so many years ago."
  
  "Let me hug you, my boy. It has been so long. I feared I would never meet you again. I've been growing tired lately. I do not know why the Citadel has not sent us another Maester yet. I fear I will have to fake my death in order for them to do so. "
  
  Jon kneeled before the frail body of his uncle and hugged him carefully. "Your letters have been my constant guides over the years, Uncle. I hope you will live to celebrate many namedays yet.
  
  Now please tell me what I need to know so I can be on my way. Do you have a map or can you point me in the right direction?"
  
  "But it is dark outside." His uncle exclaimed.
  
  "I can use the fires on top of the Wall to orientate myself and I figure the scouting party will be very visible since they will defend themselves with a lot of fire. They will be easier to spot by night than in broad daylight. I will not be able to sleep tonight anyway. All I can think of is what if we are already too late. I came as soon as I could and I will not lose another instant."
  
  "I understand, my boy. I have a map right there on the table. They are north-west of the Fist of the First Men. If you draw a straight line from Castle Black to the Fist on the map, you visualise the angle you need to fly if you take the straight line the Wall forms as your starting point. Oh and take that piece of glass as well. I put the dragon glass dagger your Uncle Benjen left here for research purposes next to the map. If you happen to come across the enemy, this dagger will do more damage than a steel sword."
  
  "Thank you, Uncle. If you don't mind I'll be off now. Could you do me a favour and send a raven to Sea Dragon Point to let them know I have arrived safely at Castle Black?"
  
  "I will do that tomorrow at first light. Take care, Aegon. I still have a lot to tell you. Be sure to come back." His Targaryen uncle called after him.
  
  "I will, Uncle. Stay safe as well." Jon left the room and hurried across the courtyard. When he arrived at the gate Jon addressed the same guard who let him enter before. "I would like to leave now, please. Can you open the gates once more?"
  
  The men on duty were taken by surprise. One of them opened the little hatch and checked if all was clear on the other side. They opened the gate just wide enough for Jon to walk through and closed it again."
  
  Not wanting to lose any more time Jon checked to be certain the gate and the little hatch were closed. He called for his dragons to come to him while he was running toward them distancing himself from the Wall. He could sense Rhaegal flying toward him and knew Viserion would be close behind. It was too dark to see anything. ' Give me a small flame so I can see you ', he sent the image to Rhaegal. He immediately saw the flame flying towards him. Moments later he had mounted Rhaegal and they were off. 'Hold on Uncle Benjen, I am almost there', he thought. He flew over the Wall and told his dragons to fly without lighting the way until they were far enough from the Wall.
  
  Little did he know that Jaremy Rykker had seen him leave and had watched him run toward a light in the dark. Rykker wasn't sure what he had seen exactly but he would keep an eye on that young man if he ever came back for a visit. He fervently hoped his eyes hadn't betrayed him.
  
  Interlude 13: A popular Princess
  
  Princess Daenerys made her usual stroll across the colourful market. Once every sennight she would indulge herself and saunter past the many stalls tasting all kinds of fruit or buying a bit of silk. Lately, they had increased her already impressive surveillance. Word had it that the Dothraki were encamped rather close to the city.
  
  But it was not the presence of the Dothraki that bothered her. Two sennights ago, Prince Quentyn Martell had arrived at the mansion, citing they were good-family and it was high time they got to know each other. At first, the Prince had been very charming and polite. Daenerys had been flattered by his attentions. Nevertheless, she had kept her guard up and had tried to ferret out who had sent him to her. Jon had never once mentioned Dorne being in on his schemes. Only Prince Oberyn was a close ally but Jon had emphasised that Prince Oberyn acted separately from his brother Prince Doran. She was extra careful never to betray Jon's existence and had instructed her household not to mention her nephew's existence either.
  
  Prince Quentyn had offered her sanctuary in Dorne on several occasions. When she didn't accept, he kept coming up with reasons for her to live with them in Westeros. Although the conversations became tedious, she always made the effort to be graceful in her refusals. Yesterday however the Prince had dropped all pretence and had formally proposed marriage. She had been in a bit of a bind. She certainly didn't want to be pressured into marrying him. However, there was no way she could tell him that she needed a formal approval of the head of House Targaryen. She had rejected him, citing she had a previous betrothal that needed to remain a secret for political reasons. To her, it was not strictly a lie. It was something she hoped would become true sometime.
  
  The Prince had not been deterred. Ever since he had doubled his efforts to find some time alone with her. Daenerys never let him within six feet of her without having her Septa by her side and at least three armed guards. Even during the shortest trip inside her own home, she had at least two guards tailing her. She was counting the days until he would relent and return to Dorne.
  
  Prince Quentyn was not the first suitor she had turned down. Over the years many a rich merchant or impoverished noble had courted her. She, however, had either politely refused them or barred them entrance when they became too insistent.
  
  She was just perusing a book on her favourite bookstand at the local market when she spotted Prince Quentyn coming her way. She looked around to see where her guards were. She panicked when she couldn't find them immediately. It seemed she had underestimated the Prince. He had somehow lured her guards away without arousing her suspicion. The bookstall happened to be next to a small alley. He had planned it well. Before she knew it, he had her cornered at the back end of the little alley. His body sheltered hers from view. She stood in a corner and had only a small space to manoeuvre to her right. When she took a step in that direction he immediately mirrored her movement.
  
  "I hate to do it this way. You can still consent to be my wife and marry me today. If not..." He came closer and grabbed both her shoulders. "I am sure I can think of another way to persuade you."
  
  The sneer on his face made Daenerys wonder how she could ever have thought him charming. Her brain was working overtime trying to find a way out of her current predicament. Without any warning, she let out a big scream. Then she followed it up by a cry for help before he could clamp her mouth shut.
  
  When Daenerys saw a fearsome half-naked man with braided hair approach in answer to her cry for help, she wondered whether her desperate move had not gotten her into even more trouble. Before Prince Quentyn even noticed the intruder, he had been struck unconscious. The savage-looking man grinned at Daenerys. "No cry, safe now."
  
  Daenerys nodded her head in thanks but could not totally lift the anxious expression from her face. She calmed down when she looked in him the eyes and realised he did not mean to harm her. His warm brown eyes expressed admiration but not the calculated and sometimes lusty look Prince Quentyn didn't try to hide from her any longer. The smile on her saviour's face looked sincere.
  
  "Beauty have man, no?" The man really turned on his charm now exposing a row of fine white teeth when he smiled at her.
  
  Daenerys was too stunned to answer.
  
  Suddenly the warrior turned around, some kind of curved blade held out before him. Daenerys saw Ser Jorah and two of her houseguard running up the ally, their swords were drawn.
  
  "Daenerys touched her saviour's arm. "Please do not hurt them, they are my guards." She had just realised he must be a Dothraki. Who else had a braid reaching down below one's waist? The curved blade had been the final piece of the puzzle.
  
  The man who shielded her body from view turned his head toward her, still holding his arakh before him ready to slice at anyone who dared to come closer. "Guards? No husband?" He pronounced these words with a very thick accent.
  
  "Guards," she affirmed. "Friends."
  
  The Dothraki studied her closely before stepping aside. He addressed Ser Jorah. "Keep woman safe for you." He simply stated.
  
  "And we thank you for it, Ser." Ser Jorah bowed to him. He studied the body of Prince Quentyn Martell lying on the ground and checked whether the young man was still breathing. Then he looked up at his Princess. "You are not harmed, my Princess?"
  
  "Just very scared I hate to admit. Where were you when I needed you?" She had been worried he had been hurt or worse. But here he was safe and sound. She hoped he had a good explanation for deserting her.
  
  "We got blocked by a cart that capsized before our feet. The streets are very narrow and it took us some time to climb over it. I apologise, Princess, we should have spread out more. That way they would not have been able to get to all of us at the same time. It seems that I have become complacent and will take measures. Please accept my sincerest apologies." Ser Jorah explained looking very contrite.
  
  Daenerys didn't have a chance to react because the Dothraki spoke up once more, a reverent expression having appeared on his face. "Princess? You Khaleesi? Me Khal. Khal Drogo." The big man mimicked Ser Jorah's bow.
  
  Daenerys had to admit he did so elegantly for such a large man. She smiled and curtsied in return. "Nice to meet you, Khal Drogo. I am very grateful for your help. Is it your Khalasar that is camped outside of Pentos?" Daenerys was more at ease now. She didn't believe he meant her any harm and besides she had three guards to fall back on. She spotted a fourth one at the entrance of the ally. He was preventing the curious crowd that had gathered there from entering.
  
  "Yes, me big Khal, big Khalasar. Pentos buy horses." Khal Drogo tried to impress her, his dark eyes never left her face.
  
  ' Great, one suitor down, another one takes his place ', Daenerys thought and had to keep a solemn face to prevent herself from rolling her eyes or giggling out loud at the comic situation. She owed it to him to stay polite at the very least. "Let me invite you to our home to give you proper thanks for saving me from this attack, Khal Drogo." She offered.
  
  "Kay," the Khal smiled from ear to ear now. "You live big thing on hill. I see once."
  
  "Princess, is this wise?" Ser Jorah whispered having followed their interactions with astonishment and apprehension.
  
  She replied in High Valyrian but kept her voice down all the same. "Better befriend him than make him an enemy." She switched back to the common tongue. See to it that Quentyn Martell does not wake up before he finds himself on a boat on the open sea heading back to Dorne."
  
  "Consider it done, Princess." Ser Jorah gave orders to two of her houseguards and handed them money to buy passage for the unconscious man.
  
  They arrived at the mansion without further incident. The presence of Khal Drogo had done wonders to disperse the onlookers that blocked the alley. He had shouted an order to two fierce-looking Dothrakis. They followed him at a discreet distance.
  
  When they entered the strong gates that protected Daenerys' home, a stable boy ran up to take the horses to the stables. Drogo ordered his two companions to stay outside and wait for him there. Daenerys quickly whispered a few words in the ear of the boy. "Find your superior and ask him to find our tallest most healthy horse. You know what I mean, one the Dothraki can appreciate. I want to present it to him as a gift when he is ready to leave." The boy looked surprised but hurried off eager to please the best employer he had served here in Pentos.
  
  Khal Drogo entered the mansion and was inspecting everything he saw. Daenerys recalled how they lived a nomadic life and her way of living must be as strange to him as his was to hers.
  
  "Please sit down. Can I offer you some refreshments? Drink?" She added seeing his nonplussed expression.
  
  "Drink," he affirmed choosing the chair closest to her. He kept observing every little detail. He studied her Septa who had entered the room and acted as a chaperone. When Moelle turned crimson he turned his attention to the three guards that didn't leave the room and the one stationed in the corridor. Then a puzzled expression appeared on his face when he observed it was Daenerys who directed the servant and how the man obeyed her smallest request without uttering a word.
  
  "Woman give orders? Not husband?" he asked perplexed by the situation.
  
  "Yes, they answer to me." She offered him some fruit which he took but the questioning look stayed on his face.
  
  "No husbaaand." He slurred the last part of that word. "Woman obey husband no?"
  
  This was her opening to stop his intentions. A little white lie to protect herself wouldn't hurt anyone. "My husband is across the Narrow Sea. I will travel to him shortly." He looked questioningly at her and she tried once more. "I have a husband he is across the sea. Sea," she repeated and pointed at the shores. Big water. We travel across it by boat. And live where the water stops. Westeros."
  
  She saw he understood. "Westeros no good. Poison waters no good."
  
  "You do not have to drink the water. Just use it to travel across it in a ship."
  
  The Khal's attention was no longer on the water. "Husband good, brave, strong? Khaleesi not like husband then Drogo can kill."
  
  "No," Daenerys stopped him. "I have a very good husband, very kind. He will soon come to get me. We will both leave and travel to Westeros. He is Khal in Westeros."
  
  Khal Drogo deflated a bit but seemed to accept this explanation. "Husband Khal then kay." He rose to his feet and put his breast forward. He was a head taller than Ser Jorah and liked to show off his height. "Khal Drogo leave now." He addressed Ser Jorah. "You guard, Khaleesi safe."
  
  Ser Jorah nodded his assent. "I will, I promise."
  
  Daenerys accompanied him outside where a beautiful stallion was stomping his feet impatiently.
  
  "Please accept this humble offering. It is my thanks to you for saving me." She watched him admire the horse. As far as she could tell he liked what he saw.
  
  After a thorough inspection of the horse, the Khal turned his attention to her. He then sighed and accepted the gift. He handed the reigns to one of his fellow Dothrakis who had entered the courtyard. He executed another awkward bow and mounted his own horse. One last time he stared deeply into her eyes, this time with apparent regret before swiftly turning his horse and riding out of the gates without looking back.
  
  "Are you sure that was wise, Princess?" Ser Jorah asked having witnessed the entire scene. "Aren't you afraid he will try something? He seemed much taken with you."
  
  Daenerys answered him standing her ground. "Now that my debt is paid and he accepted the horse, his honour will prevent him from robbing us or doing me any harm. Yes, I do believe this was a wise move Ser Jorah. I have read a book about their customs and social behaviour. I have paid my debt and he will respect my virtue because he believes I am the wife of someone he considers an equal. A Khal will never steal another Khal's wife as long as his rival is alive. The dishonourable conduct of the Dornish Prince is a greater threat. He was going to rape me. He believed that way I would have no other recourse but to marry him. You should concentrate your efforts on keeping such men from me."
  
  "I will do as you ask, Princess. As soon as I hear back from the men who tended to Prince Quentyn, I will inform you. And I will take extra security measures when you visit the market in a sennight. You will not have to give up your only excursion outside these walls or feel unsafe doing it. That I vow to you." Ser Jorah bowed his head.
  
  Princess Daenerys acknowledged his promise with a nod of her head and went back inside. She planned to write another long letter to her nephew. She hoped the talk of all these suitors harassing her would urge Aegon to move up his time table and let her come to Westeros as soon as possible. As far as she could tell by his written reports, he had the means to keep her safe already. She didn't necessarily have to live on Dragonstone. She would be willing to travel with him. Three fully staffed ships surely were enough to keep her safe? Sometimes she wondered whether he would ever come for her at all.
  
  Almost two moons after the incident with Prince Quentyn, Princess Daenerys was quietly sitting downstairs. Her Septa was reading to her from one of Jon's books. It distracted her from her latest quandary. She would soon have to write Jon about the tentative alliance the Tyrells had offered her. She was hesitant, however. Her fear was that her nephew could possibly jump on the opportunity and offer her hand to the Tyrell's in exchange for the support of a prospering kingdom.
  
  She realised her musings had distracted her and she had missed part of the story. "I'm sorry Moelle. My thoughts wandered for a bit. Can you read that last paragraph again please?"
  
  Before the Septa could comply, Ser Jorah entered the room. "Princess, a visitor to see you."
  
  Daenerys sighed. "If it is another suitor, please send him on his way. I had my fill of them for now. Tell him I am already married or use another excuse to get rid of him. If this continues, I will have to up my guard."
  
  Ser Jorah smiled. "I am fairly certain this man is not another suitor, Princess. I believe he will be a most welcome visitor." He gestured the man to enter the room.
  
  "May I present to you Ser Barristan the Bold, former Kingsguard of your brother Prince Rhaegar, currently serving your nephew Prince Aegon?"
  
  Notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon meets the Free Folk and changes his priorities
  
  The interlude will take us to the Reach.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Changing priorities
  Changing priorities
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon to the rescue.
  
  Lady Olenna is hedging her bets.
  
  Notes:
  
  In my universe, Mace Tyrell has two sons, Willas and Loras and one daughter, Margaery.
  
  Another long chapter, I hope you all enjoy reading it.
  
  Somewhere north west of the Fist of the First Men.
  
  "We're fucked!" Tormund was exhausted. Once more it had been a long night. "We're trapped out here. How long can we go on like this?"
  
  "I believe there is still enough wood in the immediate environment to last us a few nights. We'll take shifts again alternating between sleeping and gathering wood." Benjen Stark tried to stay calm although he was cold, bone-tired and close to giving up himself. He was sitting down with his back leaning against Qhorin Halfhand's back so they could provide each other the welcome support they would normally seek against a tree. It was not safe yet to leave the circle of fire they constructed each night around their small encampment. All their belongings lay in the center, their weapons within easy reach. The men huddled close together forming a ring around the heap of furs, armour and provisions. The fire they lighted every night encircled them, providing everyone just enough room the stretch their legs.
  
  "The only thing left is pray to the Gods they will tire of this game and leave us alone." Tormund muttered. Then he spoke up for all to hear. "They are just toying with us. They have all the time in the world and probably know we'll eventually grow weak from hunger and cold."
  
  "Or run out of wood before that," the Thenn grumbled.
  
  Benjen didn't like that man and always sat furthest away from him if he could help it. He had forgotten his name. Tormund Giantsbane hardly ever addressed his men by name. If he needed to get someone's attention, he used an insulting term to address them. Benjen was impressed with the extent of the man's vocabulary. Giantsbane had yet to use a jibe twice.
  
  It was a diverse group he travelled with. Tormund Giantsbane was here to represent Mance Rayder. He was the King beyond the Wall's second in command. The big man had a feral look about him. His unkept beard was almost longer than his fiery red hair, the wind tussling both into tangled messes. Benjen guessed it hadn't been combed for years. His best features were is blue eyes. The man was a giant. Although now that Benjen had met actual giants, it was better to state that the man was just taller than any other man he knew. Somehow Giantsbane was able to get this band of misfits to function together without killing each other.
  
  Each Wildling represented a different clan of the Free Folk. They were recognizable by their different attire and tattoos. There were of course more clans, but Mance Rayder had decided a group of ten would be more productive than a larger group. Besides even Giantsbane's leadership skills would have trouble keeping a larger group in line, or so had the King Beyond the Wall confessed to Benjen Stark.
  
  The Watch had also sent two representatives along. Qhorin Halfhand had been the obvious choice since he was the only crow who had earned the respect of the Free Folk. The other one was a young ranger named Edd Tollet. Qhorin Halfhand saw potential in the young man and was grooming him to become a leading ranger. Benjen Stark was here because he got stuck with representing the Warden of the North on this mission. Instead of returning to Jon after he had dropped off Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth at Winterfell, his brother had ordered him to help assess the threat at the Wall. Benjen knew the situation beyond the Wall was not getting any better and his conscience had told him it was the right thing to do.
  
  Benjen heard Rattlebone complain. "You wouldn't try my plan to move our position during daylight. It would have been slow going but we could eventually have encountered a group of Free Folk and stood more of a chance to eradicate these dead fuckers." The man still wasn't happy his suggestion had been overruled. Rattlebone had shifted slightly while he spoke, rattling the bones fixed to his sinister coat.
  
  "I explained to you before that I promised Mance Rayder I wouldn't reveal the location of any Free Folk settlement. For all we know, these dead cunts are just waiting for us to do just that. Scare us but not kill us. It is fucking likely they want us to reach our people. Perhaps a large army of dead cunts is just lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood waiting for us to make a move so they can find more of our kin to turn into dead fuckers. As far as I am concerned I prefer to give the enemy a mere ten new recruits instead of several clans of the Free Folk". Tormund Giantsbane's authority had kept the men in line so far. Benjen didn't envy him. It certainly was not easy being the leader of such a dysfunctional group.
  
  Giantsbane reminded Benjen somewhat of Sandor Clegane. He was sure Sandor Clegane and Tormund Giantsbane would make for lively entertainment on a cold and dreary winter's day. He was undecided which one of the two had the more colourful vocabulary. His daydreaming was interrupted when the representative of the cave people spoke up. "Then we are truly fucked. Why still bother resisting?"
  
  "You know," Benjen Stark remarked an absent expression on his face. "There exists this one person who can help us and I told him not to." A sad smile ghosted over his face. Their mission had been a fool's errand and doomed to fail. They had been out here for almost a moon and not a single White Walker had been spotted, only a lot of these so called wights. The sole purpose of this mission was to convince the crows and the Warden of the North that these White Walkers really existed.
  
  Ten pairs of unbelieving eyes met Benjen's "You know a fucking God, Stark? You cannot make us believe that a single human could solve our predicament, most certainly not a single southerner. We need a fucking army preferably one armed to the teeth with dragonglass. We are completely surrounded and are only alive because those dead fuckers are vulnerable to fire and somehow do not function during the day so we get a reprieve to hunt for food and gather extra wood." Tormund Giantsbane exclaimed.
  
  "Do you think your crows would send an army to fetch you if we could get a message to them?" Orell interjected.
  
  "It doesn't matter anyway. We have no ravens left." Benjen was quick to point out to the strange man. He was a singular fellow. This must have been one of the first times Benjen had heard him speak. Usually his unnerving stare kept everyone at bay. A moon in his company had taught Benjen that the man kept to himself and only communicated with Tormund Giantsbane.
  
  "Could you guide your eagle such a distance, Orell?" Tormund looked at him. "Why didn't you say something before?"
  
  Orell looked in Stark's direction with disdain. "How will that southerner react to a skinchanger?"
  
  "I don't give a fuck about his reaction if it means we still have a chance to survive this. Fuck Orell, we could have sent for help days ago!" Tormund was almost shouting now.
  
  "What's a skinchanger?" Benjen kept his tone level in the hope of calming things down. "Are you trying to tell me you can enter the mind of an eagle?"
  
  "What if I could?" A defiant Orell fixed his strange eyes on him.
  
  "I would call you a warg. You would not be the first one I encountered. I know of one south of the Wall." Benjen stated in a matter of fact tone trying not be the one to look away first.
  
  His words startled Orell whose eyes widened even more.
  
  "Enough with the eye fucking already," Tormund always a man of action was getting impatient. "We've already lost valuable daylight. Stark, do your word writing thing and let's get a message on its way. If you do know a fucking God, I'd say now is the time to beg for his help." It was a half-hearted joke but Benjen Stark contemplated his words in earnest. It could be worth a try.
  
  Giantsbane addressed four men who had witnessed the scene and were now talking animatedly among each other. "You idle cunts, start fetching wood and wake us when the sun has reached its peak. I'll take first watch. The rest of you lot try to catch some sleep. That goes for you too, big friend of a mighty God. Get some rest when you're done scribbling."
  
  "I'll go with them." Qhorin Halfhand rose to his feet and stretched his stiff limbs. Giantsbane nodded his assent and watched them leave.
  
  Benjen observed Orell closely when the man lifted his head upward his eyes turning white. It was a disturbing sight. He had seen Jon warg before but the boy always closed his eyes. Soon enough an eagle landed on Orell's shoulder.
  
  Benjen had written a short but subtle message to Maester Aemon. He would not explicitly ask for Jon to send a dragon. He would hand the responsibility of this decision over to the Maester. He carefully attached the small scroll to a leg of the large bird. All the while the eagle watched him with the same unsettling stare as Orell often used. Benjen was relieved when the scroll was secured and the eagle flew away in the direction of Castle Black. Now all they had to do was stay alive as long as possible and pray help would come whilst they still drew breath. Well at least there was a shimmer of hope now.
  
  Two days later they were preparing for another long night of keeping these creepy walking dead men at bay. Benjen stood alert in the small space. He examined the circle of fire thoroughly. A few nights ago the fire had died down in one spot and several wights had been able to enter their space before they had had a chance to rekindle the fire.
  
  Luckily the few pieces of obsidian the Free Folk had brought with them had been enough to destroy the dead that had gotten through.
  
  The first time Benjen had seen the Free Folk put down an undead soldier with a piece of dark glass he had been stunned. Ordinary steel did not deter the enemy, even if one cut of a piece of a wight's body, the rest of the corpse just kept attacking. But just a small cut with a dagger made of volcanic glass and the creatures turned to ash and bones. You didn't even need to stab a vital part of them, any hit would do. It had taken Benjen some effort to persuade Mance Rayder to borrow him a dagger to take with him to Castle Black. The Free Folk only had a few of them left and they considered these more valuable than anything else. The small daggers were the only effective weapon they possessed aside from fire.
  
  When Benjen had shown the dagger to Maester Aemon, the man had touched the cold material with a thoughtful expression on his face. He had called for Jeor Mormont and in the old arsenal with discarded weapons they had found a small stack of this material. Maester Aemon had asked the Lord Commander to assign two of his most educated men to help him search the books on the Long Night. They would also browse through the old reports from previous Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch. Jeor Mormont had sent two stewards that were able to read to help the old Maester.
  
  Benjen hoped he could make good on his promise to Mance Rayder. He prayed they could somehow find more of this material. He had urged Maester Aemon to read up on all of the known mines in Westeros.
  
  A shout from Tormund Giantsbane had all his senses on alert. "Here they come. Form up in a circle and do not let the fire go out. The large man had a small dagger in one hand and a torch in the other. Benjen preferred the combination of his glass dagger and sword. The steel sword didn't kill the wights but it could cripple them. A corpse without legs was not so big a threat anymore. He had cut countless wights in half these last few nights.
  
  Suddenly a large ice spear was thrown their way. They were completely taken by surprise. It had been thrown with superior force and the spear pierced Qhorin Halfhand's torso. The man died instantly. Everyone froze. This was no longer a mindless attack of numb creatures that seemed to have no brains. This was a calculated move of a powerful enemy.
  
  "Use your shields," Giantsbane shouted, "and for fuck's sake move his body and burn it. I will not fight a blue eyed undead Qhorin if I can help it. There must be a White Walker near. Scouts have described them carrying such spears. Keep your eyes and ears open. If I am right and a White Fuck is near, this will be an even more trying night."
  
  "One by one they left their circle to fetch shields and the few pieces of armour they had stacked in the middle of their little safe haven. The others made sure to close the gap and defend the entire perimeter."
  
  "Is it me or are there more wights out there than before?" the Thenn remarked.
  
  "Stop talking and keep fending them off". Giantsbane ordered with laboured breath. "If some of us fail we all fall. One gap and we will be overrun, there are too many of them."
  
  The night was not yet half way through but Benjen Stark was already getting desperate. His swordarm ached. The screeching of the wights was deafening. As far as the light of their circle of fire allowed him to see, hundreds of wights stood waiting to replace their fallen brothers. It was hopeless. He knew praying would do him no good but he still turned his head upwards for a small moment to send a quick prayer to the old Gods. It looked as if his plea got an instant answer. A large light lit up the sky. A moment later the ground seemed to catch fire too.
  
  "What the fuck is that?" Giantsbane called out. Everyone looked at the large flames that descended from the sky, burning through their enemy before their very eyes. Benjen narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly. He could now distinguish two large shadows. By the Gods, there actually were two dragons spouting fire and systematically pushing the enemy back. Jon had answered his call and sooner than expected.
  
  "That's my fucking friend I sent the message to remember!" Benjen called out looking smug. The wights had stalled their attack and Benjen's companions all stared with utter awe at the two large creatures that flew in wide circles, always changing direction to avoid becoming a target but raining fire in an effective pattern forcing the enemy to retreat.
  
  Benjen was proud of his nephew. He couldn't have devised a better tactic himself. The fires lit up their direct environment and the men on the ground could now discern the small figure on one of the powerful flying beasts. They stared with open mouth.
  
  When Jon was sure that a large area around the defensive circle was cleared of the enemy, he ordered Rhaegal down, loosened the two bags he had brought with him and dismounted. He urged the green dragon to take to the sky again. 'You'll be safer up there and can keep an eye out for the enemy.' he sent the thought to Rhaegal's mind.
  
  Benjen tempered the fire on one side so Jon could enter their little circle. The hugged each other desperately. "What took you so long? Benjen's joke fell flat.
  
  "Why didn't you send for me sooner?" Jon reproached. "However did you survive this long? Do they always attack in such large numbers? I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." Jon looked around and saw the Free Folk stare at him with adoration in their eyes.
  
  Tormund Giantsbane came forward and spoke up. "You are very powerful. We are lucky you fight on our side. How do you command those fire creatures?"
  
  "They are called dragons." Jon hesitated not knowing how to address the man.
  
  "This is Tormund Giantsbane. The right hand of the King Beyond the Wall." His uncle helped Jon. "Tormund Giantsbane, meet my kinsmen," he hesitated on the name, "Jon Targaryen." He finished. When Jon rode dragons he was a true Targaryen. He sent a wordless apology to his nephew.
  
  "They obey you? Tormund repeated his question. "You can call me Tormund."
  
  "They do, Tormund. You see, I raised them ever since they hatched and were no larger than a kitten. They consider me their parent."
  
  "He is also a skinchanger and can control them that way as well." Benjen added knowing that would earn Jon even more respect.
  
  Orell stepped forward and kneeled before Jon. "I am honoured to make your acquaintance. I have only heard very old stories of mythical wargs controlling such large beasts.
  
  The other leaders of the Free Folk kneeled as well.
  
  Jon took in the scene and was completely at a loss. The most heard statement of the Free Folk was that they were free and kneeled to no one.
  
  "Please get up." Jon was really embarrassed now. "We are not safe yet. It is still a long way to Castle Black. And I do not know if I can stay with you the entire time. I promised I would only be gone for a few days."
  
  "Let's get through this night first. Tomorrow morning we will start our trek back." Tormund had been the first one back on his feet. The others were slowly following his example. Orell reluctantly left his kneeling position.
  
  "I brought furs, food and something to drink with me that will keep you warm. Also a few weapons but just the one dagger made of volcanic glass I am afraid. If you are low on food, my dragons can hunt for you in the morning."
  
  "Jon behind you!" Benjen yelled. Jon instinctively ducked the spear that now flew over his head before turning around and drawing Blackfyre from its scabbard. He immediately pounced forward stabbing the figure that approached him by stepping over the wood where the fire had been extinguished by his uncle earlier. It looked like a man entirely made of ice. ' A white Walker', he realised. ' Damn I should have drawn the glass dagger .' But before he could even finish that thought the creature before him exploded in a thousand ice crystals. Numerous wights that had come running up behind it all fell lifeless to the ground.
  
  The members of the Free Folk who had drawn their weapons once more upon hearing Benjen Stark cry out, were speechless. The boy clearly was magic, that or he came straight from the Gods.
  
  "You just slew a fucking White Walker! That's the first time I ever heard they could be destroyed! Do you have a magical sword as well, young slayer?" Again Tormund was the first one to come to his senses.
  
  "I don't, I didn't..." Jon was at a loss for words.
  
  "It is a rare sword." Benjen came to his nephew's rescue. "There are only a few of these left in the realm. It is made of a material called Valyrian Steel. You will be able to see the difference with our steel swords when it grows lighter. Let's rekindle the circle of fire and watch each other's backs. Who knows what is still out there?"
  
  "If you can protect me while I sit here in the middle of this circle, I will warg into my dragon to scout the environment. He handed his sword to his uncle. "Take it for now." When his uncle hesitated he added. "Don't worry, I will want it back the moment I am done here."
  
  Jon sat down, closed his eyes and asked Rhaegal if he could fly along with him in his mind. The dragon was only too happy to comply. He didn't like this strange cold land and the creepy enemy they had just scared away. He hadn't seen the white shape attacking his human until it was too late. He would be glad when the light returned to the sky. Jon reassured both dragons that he was all right and warged in Rhaegal, asking him several times to use his flames to provide the necessary light to scan the environment for the enemy.
  
  The Free Folk observed from their position on the ground how the dragons flew in circles over the area, little bursts of flame betraying their whereabouts. Soon they could hardly see them anymore.
  
  The darkness seemed to have swallowed them up.
  
  Finally Jon stirred. He had aborted his scouting mission with Rhaegar. "I could only see a few creatures and they were moving away from us. My guess is that by defeating that White Walker, we somehow destroyed most of the army present tonight. I saw hundreds of corpses. I will ask the dragons to burn these bodies at dawn. It would not do for another White Walker to come by and raise them once more." Jon accepted Blackfyre from his uncle and put the sword back in its scabbard.
  
  "You believe the White Fuckers are the ones to raise these dead fuckers and they become lifeless when he is defeated?" Tormund asked.
  
  "It is just a guess. But you all saw what happened to most of the wights when the White Walker exploded in ice crystals. Somehow they were connected." Jon stated. "I also believe the White Walker controlled them somehow.
  
  "So you think it is safe for now? They will not attack again tonight?" Orell asked Jon.
  
  "I believe so. The few that were still moving were fleeing north. We should stay vigilant though. Most of us can rest but a few will need to stand guard." Jon looked at Giantsbane so the man knew it was up to him to assign the tasks.
  
  "How do you control both dragons?" Orell was fascinated by the young man before him.
  
  "Well, I can feel the dragons and link our minds. That way I can sense what they are thinking without changing into their skin. Once the link is established, I am able to send thoughts to them. If I really concentrate I can also send images to their minds. The dragons share a mental connection with each other as well. If I can reach one, he can tell the other without making a sound. I only really warg into the green dragon, I mean change into his skin, when I want to examine things from high up through his eyes or need to react very quickly to new situations. You understand?" Jon looked at the strange man beside him and saw him nod with a devoted expression in his big eyes.
  
  "You are a warg as well?" Jon guessed.
  
  "I am, but not as powerful. I have my eagle and I can only communicate with him if I change into his skin. If I try really hard, I can warg into other small animals like ravens. But with my eagle it is easier."
  
  "It is the same for me." Jon was glad to finally talk to someone who had experience with warging. "My connection to my direwolf is second nature as well. If I try to warg into the mind of an unfamiliar animal I need to concentrate a lot harder." He had not looked up while he talked and therefore had missed the looks of complete awe on the faces of his audience.
  
  "A direwolf? You can warg into a direwolf? That is one of the more ferocious creatures that live here." Orell's excitement made him raise his voice. All the others had heard his outburst and were waiting to see how the boy would react.
  
  "I can. I found him when he was but a small pup. Actually, I think he found me. He entered my mind before I ever laid eyes on him. You could say he chose me." Jon tried to explain as best as he could.
  
  "I fucking need to introduce you to Mance Rayder. The man would give his crown to you in an instant if he had one." Tormund's respect for the boy knew no bounds.
  
  "Mance Rayder? He is your King Beyond the Wall?" Jon asked. "I would like to speak to him as well. I do not know when that will be possible though. I will first have to fly back to inform my entourage of my plans."
  
  "What are you saying Jon?" Benjen Stark was exhausted but his tired mind had still caught the intent in Jon's words.
  
  "I am going to assess the situation here. I will scout during the next few days and when I am sure I can safely leave you for some time, I will fly back to my advisers and inform them of what happened here. I must convince them that the situation beyond the Wall requires our immediate attention. The Iron Throne has waited for seventeen years and can wait a few moons or longer if necessary. The safety at the Wall is also the responsibility of a true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I cannot turn my back on this. The presence of my dragons will probably mean the difference between life and death for tens of thousands of Free Folk living beyond the Wall."
  
  "But Jon, Ser Gerold, your Kingsguard?" Benjen understood what his nephew was trying to say but he knew very well an outsider would not easily believe what was going on beyond the Wall. Hells, he hadn't believed the full extent of the situation himself before this night.
  
  "I will try to explain to them what is happening here. If we do not help now, the army of the dead will only grow its numbers. If we stall too long we will probably have to fight an army that has absorbed all of the Free Folk and numbers over a hundred thousand strong. If I can make Ser Gerold understand this, there will be no further discussion. Besides, we have a very good strategy: target the White Walkers. If I can scout from up high and know long in advance where they are, we can adapt our positions."
  
  Although the two southerners had been speaking in a low voice and faced each other, the representatives of the Free Folk had tried to follow this conversation and had picked up most of the content. Again Tormund was their spokesmen. "You are King of the Southerners and you volunteer to help us Free Folk?"
  
  Jon startled. This was a new situation for him. First Uncle Benjen had exposed him as a Targaryen and now a whole bunch of strangers just overheard his plans to overthrow King Robert. He decided to throw caution to the wind and be straightforward for once. He looked Tormund Giantsbane in the eye and his voice rang clear when he justified his future actions.
  
  "I am no King yet. My grandfather was King. My father was murdered as were my siblings and our throne was stolen. Loyal people hid me when I was a baby. Now that I am an adult and my dragons have grown up as well, I will force the man that murdered my family from the throne and become King. I intend to do this step by step, hopefully without the use of my dragons. I do not want to harm the people of the Seven Kingdoms, they were not at fault. But yes, I hope that within several moons I will be King of the Southerners. I will carry the title of ' Protector of the Realm' . That means I will protect you who live in the north just as I would help the people that live in the south if they were threatened by an enemy they couldn't fend off themselves." Jon exhaled deeply. Somehow he felt lighter. Something about this group made him drop his guard. Amongst them, he could be himself for once and not pretend.
  
  "If you help us defeat these white fuckers and keep our families safe, I will personally help you kill the cunt that murdered your family and has stolen your throne." Tormund promised immediately.
  
  "I hope it won't come to that. My plan is to persuade most of his allies to my side by diplomacy and to bluff or intimidate Robert Baratheon into giving up the throne. But I'll keep your promise in mind Tormund, thank you. Now does anyone want a drink? I brought a special brew that should keep you warm. And if anyone needs extra furs or another weapon, help yourselves."
  
  Drinks were shared and toasts made. Jon used the opportunity to eat something as well. Then he claimed one fur and lay down on the ground. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to catch some sleep. I have come a long way and it has been some time since I had a bit of rest."
  
  "You can sleep soundly, Southern King. I will personally see to it that your magic sword will not be stolen from you." Tormund promised Jon.
  
  Benjen smiled. Leave it to Jon to win some of the fiercest warriors of the Free Folk over in less than half a night. He couldn't wait to tell Ned.
  
  "What will your fire beasts do while you rest?" Orell asked. He had not let the fascinating young man out of his sight and would try to learn everything he could from him.
  
  Jon closed his eyes for just a short moment. "The dragons have found a cave and are resting now. They will hunt for food in the morning." Jon reassured Orell. He pulled the furs around him and fell asleep almost instantly.
  
  Benjen watched his nephew's even breaths. He marveled at the fact that the boy was instantly at ease in such a cold and rough environment. Not to mention falling asleep amongst Wildlings he had just met and who already kissed the ground he walked on. He lay down next to him trying to combine their body heat and threw his black furs over the both of them. It was cold out but the heat of the fires encircling them kept them from freezing. People at court would never believe this. Could you imagine Prince Joffrey sleeping outside in the cold amongst uneducated strangers without any comfort except the clothes on his back and a warm fur coat? He forced the ridiculous image from his mind and before he realised it, exhaustion had gotten the better of him and he was asleep as well.
  
  When Benjen awoke, he didn't spot Jon right away. "Where is he?" He shouted in a panic, waking up the rest of their little group.
  
  "I'm here Uncle, just stretching my legs." Jon appeared behind the large body of Tormund Giantsbane. The two men were gnawing on a piece of meat and Giantsbane carried something over his shoulder.
  
  "I kept an eye on your King for you Stark. The two of us found something fresh to eat for everyone." Giantsbane boasted. "The dragonrider can shoot a mean arrow. He could easily become one of us."
  
  Benjen couldn't miss the camaraderie that seemed to have developed between his nephew and the leader of this mission.
  
  Giantsbane looked at his coincidental hunting partner. "Your skill with a bow is very valued by the Free Folk. It can get you a woman in your bed every night." He enjoyed the youth's blushing face. "Don't tell me you command dragons but are afraid of a woman's cunt."
  
  "I am not but now is not the time for this." Jon replied his face still on fire.
  
  "A pity, I think I know just the one for you. Hair kissed by fire she has, just like me. Good with a bow as well. A great pity." He shook his head. "If ever you change your mind, you just have to say the word. With your pretty curls and bow arm, Ygritte could be yours whether you wanted her or not."
  
  Jon tried to ignore Tormund's last words and sat down next to his uncle. "Tormund told me we should eat and be on our way as soon as possible. I'm sure you agree."
  
  His uncle signalled Tormund behind Jon's back to let the boy be for now. "I'll be glad to leave here and I would have done it sooner if I could." He answered his nephew. They both smiled now. "Did you sleep well out here on the ground?"
  
  "Come on Uncle, this is not the first time we had to sleep under the sky. Besides, I was exhausted. The long flight to the Wall, hardly stopping at Castle Black to get directions and then trying to see in the dark on the way over here, a man could get tired from less."
  
  "A man you call yourself? Did I miss your seventeenth nameday? I lost track of time out here?" Benjen bumped his shoulder.
  
  "Not yet. Give it a few days." Jon smiled. "Of all the things to talk about right now, this isn't important, Uncle. What do you know of those White Walkers? How many are there? Do you think I killed that one because my sword is made of Valyrian Steel?"
  
  "Well, that and your lightening quick reflexes. I saw the White Walker trying to stab you with an icy dagger but you were quicker. Not to mention your instant ducking to avoid his ice spear first.
  
  But to answer your question, I think it was the Valyrian steel although we cannot be sure. You are the first one to come close enough to a White Walker to be able to stab him. Before last night I had never even seen one before. So I cannot tell you how many there are out there. This whole mission was about the Free Folk proving to us these creatures even exist. I guess we can return home because our mission has been accomplished."
  
  Jon had finished eating while they talked and was gathering his belongings. "I'll call the dragons and scout the environment. Tormund says that they will not attack by daylight but I want to know exactly where they are. I promised Davos and Sandor that I'd take every precaution. The dragons can also burn all these remains." Jon gestured at the hundreds of corpses that lay inert all around them.
  
  "I do not suppose you can give me a ride to Castle Black?" his uncle joked but Jon heard the wistful tone.
  
  "You would get burned, Uncle. Their scales are rather hot. I can only ride them because of my Targaryen blood. Even their fire doesn't burn me. I can't take you with me, I'm sorry." He left their little camping space and searched for a spot without corpses to call for his dragons.
  
  The next two nights they saw wights in the distance but not many and they did not come under attack. Jon had used the daylight to scout the far north. He had seen thousands of wights on the march. Different groups in different locations but all of them bound for a central point. It looked like the enemy was regrouping somewhere in the far north. The good news was that they were travelling slowly and the gathering place was in the opposite direction from any known settlement of the Free Folk. Jon had marked all the locations he had seen them on the map he got from his Targaryen uncle. The fact that they were gathering probably meant they were planning an all-out attack next time. Their eventual target could be anything, a large settlement of the Free Folk or one of the castles along the Wall. Who knew what drove these strange creature?. It was certainly possible that the army of the dead would try to get past the Wall and attack the Seven Kingdoms?
  
  Jon left them at the end of the second night. He was planning to fly high over the Wall while it was still dark and drop a message wrapped around a stone to let the Night's Watch know that Edd Tollet and Benjen Stark were still alive and on their way back. If he wanted to reach Sea Dragon Point later that day there was no time to stop at Castle Black and visit Maester Aemon. Orell had forecasted a cloudy day. The man had taken a liking to his fellow skinchanger. He had explained that how could feel the weather change deep in his bones and was often right in his weather predictions. Jon had expressed his thanks and expressed his hope to meet him again soon.
  
  Before he flew off, he promised his uncle and Tormund that he would be back and asked the two of them to make arrangements for a meeting near Castle Black between all parties a moon from now so his entourage could participate as well. Tormund promised to bring Mance Rayder and the heads of the clans. Jon could hear the 'ayes' from the ones present, no hesitation whatsoever in their voices. Benjen Stark would make sure that the Night's Watch was adequately represented at the meeting. Jon climbed on the back of his dragon, shouted "keep yourselves safe so I will see you all soon," and flew off, acknowledging the eagle that accompanied him the first part of the way with a nod and a smile.
  
  All the way back, Jon tried to think of the best way to convince his counsellors to postpone their cause and deal with the situation at the Wall first. Jon realised that the plan he had in mind would ask a lot of their resources and they needed to deal with Dragonstone as well. He would not postpone that campaign and lose the perfect opportunity to take possession of the island without much resistance perhaps even none at all.
  
  He arrived mid-afternoon. As soon as he climbed off Rhaegal, Ghost came running up to him. His direwolf's greeting was heart-warming. Jon indulged him, knowing full well that the others would not be as welcoming. He walked to the tavern with Ghost glued to his side. Jon hoped they would let him take a hot bath first and change his clothes before assailing him with their admonishments.
  
  Sandor stood outside leaning against a wall and was the first to see him arrive. "Your uncle okay?"
  
  Jon didn't mind he didn't get a proper greeting first. He appreciated Sandor's concern for Benjen Stark. "He is now." A tired smile graced Jon's face. "Nice to see you, Sandor."
  
  "You as well, boy." Sandor moved closer but stopped. "You reek, boy. Let's get you in through the back entrance. With a bit of luck you can have sufficient time to clean up before they descend on you. I'll try to prepare them. They are having another strategy meeting. I've lost count of how many they've held since you left."
  
  "Thanks Sandor. Is everyone all right?" Jon asked while they circled the building.
  
  "Define all right. If you mean are they alive and healthy, the fucking answer is yes. If you ask if they are calm and happy, what the fuck did you expect?" He opened the door and let Jon enter. He followed him and continued the conversation in a whisper so as not to give away their presence.
  
  "I do not think Ser Gerold slept much since you left. Everyone's appetite has suffered, except for the boys. Somehow they think you can take on anything and everything and will show up without a scratch when you've finished doing your thing. That last sentence is a quote of Gendry."
  
  They had reached the top of the stairs. Jon smiled at Sandor. "Thanks for everything, Sandor. Will you send a servant up with some hot water please? And if at all possible, wait a bit before you break the news of my return downstairs."
  
  "You've got it, my Prince." He said the last two words in a teasing tone. "I can't wait to hear of your reckless adventures. I'm sure you will shock the whole fucking room." Sandor left.
  
  "You have no idea." Jon mumbled to himself and undressed in order to take a very welcome hot bath.
  
  When he entered the common room downstairs,Sam was the first to rise from his chair and embrace him. Gendry was quick to follow Sam's lead.
  
  "We were so relieved when Sandor told us you had arrived safe and well." Sam voiced the thought and Gendry nodded, clearly feeling the same.
  
  Jon eagerly returned their hugs but did not speak a word. He turned to confront Davos and his loyal didn't hesitate and followed his friends' example by embracing him tightly.
  
  "I was so worried. Glad to have you back, son." He whispered in Jon's ear.
  
  A tense silence ensued. Jon was determined to wait it out and tried not to cringe at the stern look of Ser Gerold. He fervently hoped the knight would come around. He loved him and wanted his approbation. He really needed him to understand his point of view, certainly into account the next steps he had in mind.
  
  Jon braced himself when he saw Ser Gerold approach. The knight surprised him however when he dropped the stern act and Jon got pulled against a lean body. "Don't every do that to us again, my Prince. At the very least warn us and say a proper goodbye."
  
  At Jon's nod the tension seemed to leave the room. Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell were glad they could hug Jon without censure from their Lord Commander. Sandor looked at the scene and just grinned at Jon. Jon smiled back at him over Ser Oswell's shoulder.
  
  "Have you eaten anything lately?" Davos practical as always had asked the cook to prepare a plate.
  
  ""Not since yesterday evening." Jon replied. He sat down and accepted the food gratefully. Sam poured him a cup of ale. Jon was relieved that the ice was broken and they could move on for now. He knew he would probably get a scolding or two in private but nothing could take away the treasured feeling their warm welcome had provided. He waited until he had swallowed down his first spoonful before he addressed Davos. "Perhaps you can start to fill me in on the situation here? Have any ravens come in with more news? I reckon Sandor has told you my uncle is okay?"
  
  "Yes he did." Davos who had taken the seat facing him answered. "Well, here everything is ready to depart for the Driftmark. All of the messages have been sent. If all is well then the first ship should be on its way to Dragonstone as we speak. It is still too early for replies from Winterfell, King's Landing or any of our other allies. There is one message I didn't open though." He reached into his pocket and handed Jon a sealed scroll. "It is from Princess Daenerys." While Jon studied the small item with an absent expression on his face, Davos turned toward Ser Gerold. "Anything else you would like to add Ser Gerold?" Jon shifted his attention from the scroll in his hand back to the meeting.
  
  "Yes, the messages to ready the other ships have been sent. We will have to use a significant part of the war fund Lord Eddard Stark has left at the Driftmark for us. Ser Arthur has assured me it will be more than sufficient and can be replenished if necessary. Ser Arthur just smiled mysteriously. "We still need to hear from Lord Manderly but I'm sure he is glad he can finally start helping us. No sightings of Ironborn ships here. King Robert still needs at least a sennight to reach Winterfell."
  
  "You forgot to mention the message from Lord Reed," Ser Barristan remarked.
  
  "Tell me." Jon urged always glad to receive the useful and intriguing information his interim foster father offered from time to time. "I have long been expecting another bombshell from him."
  
  "Better read it yourself, my Prince." Ser Gerold said. "I hope you can make sense of his cryptic words. As far as I understand, he urges us to go to Dragonstone and not let us be deterred by a simultaneous situation. We must believe our Prince capable of handling both." All eyes turned to Jon who sighed. Ser Gerold resumed "There was a warning for Winterfell in there as well. And I quote, Danger lurks up high. As long as the Stag is in the North, a Wolf should never wander of quote. He ended by stating that when the Stag leaves, the pups can prevent disaster by keeping the pack together. I think that were his words or at the very least something very similar."
  
  All eyes were on Jon now who had accepted the little scroll from Davos. He was reading the short message his brows furled in concentration. "The only risky thing high up in Winterfell I can think of is young Brandon Stark scaling the walls and risking falling to his death. Every message I get from the Starks describes one or other antic of Bran. Lately he climbed to the very top of the old Tower. It could be something else but it will do no harm if I send a raven to Winterfell and I advise them to supervise Bran. At the very least they should limit his climbing activities during the royal visit. The last bit is clearer. It is a warning not to split the Stark siblings up when Uncle Ned leaves for King's Landing. Since taking them all is not really an option since Robb needs to stay behind to rule the North in his father's stead, Uncle Ned should leave his children at Winterfell. Lady Catelyn won't like that. It means she will probably not be allowed to follow Ned to the capital."
  
  He put the scroll down and looked at Davos. "I hope it doesn't mean anything else than that."
  
  "You already made more sense of it than us, my Prince." Davos praised him.
  
  "And what about the simultaneous situation, my Prince?" Ser Gerold had even gotten more apprehensive when Jon had jumped straight to the last part of the message. He had not missed his Prince's sigh and his dark expression when he had mentioned the first statement of Lord Reed.
  
  Jon contemplated his pint of ale. 'Where to start?' he mused. He looked at Davos and Sandor silently pleading with them to support him. He turned his head and saw Sam and Gendry doing their utmost to stay inconspicuous. They were clearly hoping they would be allowed to stay in the room as long as they didn't draw attention to themselves.
  
  "Perhaps I should start by telling you what happened on my trip north. I hope you will believe what I have to tell you, even if I talk about killing an ice monster."
  
  Jon then proceeded to give a detailed description of everything that had occurred from the very moment he climbed on Rhaegal's back and left Sea Dragon Point. He restrained himself from using a smug tone when he told them how he left the Night's Watch clueless of his mode of transportation. He emphasised how dire the situation of his Uncle Benjen and his companions had been when he found them. He concluded his long monologue with his promise to help the Free Folk.
  
  An eerie silence ensued. Davos was deep in thought. Ser Gerold looked out of his depth. The others just sat there not knowing if they believed everything they had heard. His friends were whispering in their corner. Jon heard them mention the words White Walker several times.
  
  "Can I tell you what I think we should do?" he ventured. "That way you can analyse it amongst yourselves later when I rest a bit and we can discuss strategies tomorrow.
  
  "You have a fucking plan?" Sandor asked? "First years of doing nothing and now we are in open conflict with coward Krakens, you want to start to invade Westeros and kill thousands of dead fuckers north of the Wall all at the same time? Do not hesitate now for fucks sake. I am all ears."
  
  "Well it is simple really." Jon started with the easier part. "We still move on Dragonstone exactly as planned. Only I will not be going with you right away. I will concentrate on the fight here first."
  
  "How do you propose to take on thousands of wights and an undefined number of White Walkers?" Ser Gerold asked sceptically. "The dragons can only do so much. Are you seriously asking your Kingsguard to let you go off on your own once more? We are sworn to protect you."
  
  "I am no doing this on my own." Jon tried to assure him. "I'll have the support of the combined forces of the clans of the Free Folk. Uncle Benjen and Uncle Aemon will hopefully bring the Night's Watch on board as well.
  
  Our first objective should be to prevent the army of the dead growing their ranks by preying on easy targets. The easiest way to do that would be to let the Free Folk south of the Wall and into the Gift but that land belongs to the Northern Kingdom. I realise that the Lords of the North would rebel not to mention the reaction of the men of the Night's Watch. We know from previous negotiations how divided they are on this topic.
  
  I had hoped to have more time to guide both parties to a compromise and to persuade them of the need to exist together in peace, but the reality is that time is almost up. I had thought of moving the ships at Skagos and Bear Island to their respective sides of the Wall with just enough crew to sail them safely. They can be used to temporarily shelter the woman, children and elderly of the Free Folk. The Free Folk claim the dead can't swim. The ships could stay well in sight of the shore. Some of you could travel to the Bay of Ice on board of one of our ships and join me at the Wall."
  
  Jon sipped from his ale. Everyone stayed silent so he continued. "Our second objective is to devise an efficient battle plan. The enemy has the numbers but their foot soldiers are just mindless puppets. I intend to scout their movements and predict where they will fight us. Then, we will make sure that we are ready for them. We can build trenches to set on fire and create several traps to try to get them cornered. Then the dragons will rein fire on them. If we had access to more volcanic glass, we could hit them with a barrage of arrows outfitted with small glass tips. Many of the Free Folk are excellent archers. The dragons can attack from the air and force them into a certain direction. And as I told you, chances are that when we target their leaders, these so-called White Walkers, we take out countless wights with one kill.
  
  Jon had spoken to all of them but studied Ser Gerold reaction in particular. "That's the rough layout of the plan. Let us discuss the feasibility and the logistics during the coming days. As I explained the dead are not ready to attack the Free Folk in full force just yet. We have time to travel to the Wall by conventional means. I had hoped that some of you would be willing to make the trip to Bear Island and accompany the fleet to the Wall, perhaps Davos and at least one of my Kingsguard? If Gendry would agree to come along, his skills could come in handy as well."
  
  He saw Gendry look up and addressed him directly. "Only if you are willing of course. You do not need to make a decision right away. If you came however, you could assist the Night's Watch. They can use someone skilled to ameliorate the state of their weapon arsenal and help their only blacksmith. But your main task would be something entirely different. There are a few pieces of obsidian at the Wall, mostly daggers. I think it would be wise to melt them down and create several spearheads and arrow points so more men can be armed with the limited material at our disposal."
  
  Jon now turned his attention to Sam who was sitting next to Gendry. "Is it too soon Sam to ask whether you have found out where we could obtain more of this volcanic glass?"
  
  "Actually, we might already know where to look," Sam stammered. "That is, Ser Arthur told me about some mines on Dragonstone. If he is right, there is a mountain of obsidian on that island. More than you'll ever need. The problem however is the timing. I do not see how we can get there, mine it and bring it here before the army of the dead attack." Sam looked nervous.
  
  "Dragonstone?" Jon asked and turned his head toward the knight. "Ser Arthur?"
  
  "It was your father who showed these mines to me. They are close to the beach. We could probably access them without having to occupy the entire island first. The mining will not be too difficult, at least not at first. I recall I was able to touch the material and the shards I touched were rather large. So a lot of it should be easy to reach. I reckon a few swings with a pickaxe would already provide us with enough material to make hundreds of arrow points. You should know though that your father called it dragonglass." Ser Arthur explained happy to have come up with this solution for his Prince.
  
  "Do not encourage him." Ser Gerold's newly found indulgence was not unlimited. "I will not have him fly off to Dragonstone, mine the damn things and fly back all by himself. It is too dangerous."
  
  Sam scraped his throat.
  
  "What is it Sam? You have a better idea here?" Davos encouraged the timid youth to speak up.
  
  Sam swallowed at first but then straightened his back and ventured, "What if we send a raven and let some loyal people at Dragonstone start mining the volcanic glass immediately? By the time they have a fair amount they can load it onto one of our ships. Let's send an additional ship from the Driftmark to Dragonstone under the guise of a trading mission. Said ship would only need to transport the material the short distance to the Driftmark. Letting Jon pick up a first batch at the Driftmark where people know and love him would not be that risky. If he can transport enough of it, then Gendry can get started. The rest can be sent by ship to the Wall where Jon might pick some of it up at the shore should Gendry have already finished his work on the first batch. I reckon it will take some time to transport it over land to Castle Black. We should as for the assistance of the Night's Watch."
  
  Ser Gerold was still debating timing issues when Davos nodded. "Thank you Sam. That could work. We do not lose anything by sending the raven to Dragonstone today. We still have time to discuss Jon's exact involvement in all this." He looked at Ser Arthur. "Who can we contact on Dragonstone? If we decide to do this, we better send a raven as soon as possible."
  
  "I agree. That part of the plan is urgent. Give me time to assess the rest of it before sending our Prince off." Ser Gerold was quick to intervene not liking the image of his Prince crossing half of Westeros on his own.
  
  Ser Arthur first answered Davos' question. "I'll give you some names when we're done here, Davos."
  
  Then he raised a new topic. "We are only concentrating on the dragonglass but hasn't our Prince proven that there is another way of destroying these creatures?" He paused strategically and relished the fact that he had everyone guessing. Only Jon smiled knowingly but let the knight have his moment.
  
  No one spoke up so Ser Arthur explained. "Do you think my sword will prove as effective as Blackfyre? Do we know of any Valyrian steel weapons we could borrow?"
  
  "Didn't you tell us that Jeor Mormont has a sword made of Valyrian Steel?" Ser Oswell remarked, clearly excited to hear of another means to destroy this unusual enemy.
  
  "Yes, Longclaw it is called. That's certainly a possibility." Jon affirmed. "There is Ice at Winterfell but that is not an option with King Robert arriving there soon.
  
  "My father has one too," Sam offered but it is in the Reach and he is not likely to give it up.
  
  "Do you really think it will be necessary to evacuate the Free Folk?" Ser Gerold asked already analysing the next phase of Jon's proposed tactic.
  
  "Perhaps not if the Night's Watch cooperates, then there will be other options. A lot hinges on the troop movements of the army of the dead though." Jon reasoned. "If they corner them close to the shores, our ships will be their only chance at survival." Jon watched Ser Gerold from the corner of his eye. The man looked pale and worried.
  
  A silence fell over the room. Gendry left their corner and approached Jon. "I am willing to go to the Wall, Jon." He stated calmly. "I'd be happy to do that for you. You only had to ask."
  
  "Thanks, Gendry. Your presence will make a big difference." Jon yawned and rubbed his forehead. "Do you mind if I leave you for a bit. I have not had much opportunity to sleep these last few days. I would be grateful if you would already send out the messages to Dragonstone, Skagos and Bear Island. If someone can give me some writing materials, I'll write a short message to Maester Aemon to let him know I have arrived safely before I retire."
  
  "I can do that for you." Sam was quick to help his friend. "Just let me know what it needs to say. I'll write it in code so you can go and rest now. Better still, let us go to your room. You can dictate your message for Maester Aemon from your bed."
  
  Before Ser Gerold could stop them to ask more questions, Ser Barristan intervened. "Leave him be for now. Can't you see the poor boy is almost dead on his feet? You can have your precious strategy meeting after supper or tomorrow or both." He opened the door to help the two boys escape.
  
  In his room Jon immediately settled himself on his bed. "Sam before we get to the message, do you realise that once you are at the Driftmark you can start to prepare for your apprenticeship at the Citadel? In less than a moon everything with your father should be settled. When we say goodbye here, it may well be for some time. Chances are slim that I will make it to Dragonstone before you leave for Oldtown."
  
  "Don't worry about that now," Sam replied his voice hoarse. "Anything can happen between now and then. Besides we will find a way to communicate, you promised me."
  
  Jon squeezed his hand. "Then let's start with the message, Sam. We also need to ask the Citadel to send a new Maester to the Wall immediately. Who do you suppose would have the greatest impact on the members of the order? I was shocked to see how frail Uncle Aemon has become. How can those learned minds in Oldtown not realise he has celebrated more than a hundred namedays? It is not right that he should still carry so much responsibility. We would not be stretching the truth an awful lot if we were to tell them he is dying."
  
  "I think they lack a volunteer and do not like to force a Maester to live his entire life in exile at the Wall. But to answer your question, you could ask Eddard Stark as Warden of the North to write it. He gets full reports on the situation at the Wall from his brother the official liaison, doesn't he?"
  
  "Great idea, you can draft that one yourself so Uncle Ned will only need to sign it. Now for the other one," Jon started to dictate and Sam diligently wrote everything down. It was like a glimpse into the future, Jon and his Maester sending out royal instructions.
  
  When Jon's eyes followed Sam's silhouette leaving his room he noticed Ser Oswell had taken up guard. He acknowledged the man with a nod before Sam shut his door.
  
  Jon took up a more comfortable position on his bed and retrieved the message from Dany. His tired mind had difficulty to decipher the coded message. When he had finished reading it, her words hadn't lifted his spirits as he had hoped. Usually her messages had the tendency to make him smile but this one left him feeling angry, guilty and confused. She had been attacked by a suitor and a stranger had come to her rescue. The only thing that made him feel a little bit better was the realisation that Ser Barristan was as good as on his way to fetch her. If only it could have been sooner. He envied Khal Drogo the role of her saviour. It should have been him. He was her designated protector.
  
  Downstairs Ser Gerold summoned Davos, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Sandor Clegane to discuss the best way to go forward.
  
  "Sandor, do you reckon you will be able to make a difference at the Wall? Can you assure me that you will be able to fight when one of the most used weapons over there will be fire?"
  
  Sandor looked conflicted. "I would really like to help kill uh I mean destroy those dead fuckers. I know for a fact that I will be much better at communicating with a Tormund Giantsbane and the likes than any of you. You all heard the boy's description. I am fairly sure that that is the main reason you are asking me to accompany our Prince."
  
  Ser Gerold nodded. "That and the knowledge that you are a capable commander on the ground. I have seen how efficiently you organised the combined defences at the Stony Shore. You are also a formidable fighter and just as much as all of us here, you've proven that you are willing to do anything to protect our Prince. But may I remind you that you didn't answer my question? Will the fire pose a problem?"
  
  "I am confident I can work around it. The fire I mean. With the right motivation... , " he swallowed but then continued as if making a resolution. " It is high time I conquer this anyway. I promise that I will not let you down and I formally volunteer to go on this mission."
  
  Ser Gerold returned his stare but didn't respond. He now focused his attention on Ser Arthur. "Is your sword arm completely healed? Are you ready for battle?"
  
  "I am almost back to my normal fighting level. And I still have the extra time needed to reach the Wall by sea not to mention the journey over land to Castle Black. You saw me training yesterday. I will be okay. Consider me a volunteer as well." A look of mutual resolve passed between him and Sandor.
  
  Ser Gerold promised to let them know his decision soon. He pre-empted Ser Barristan's objection by telling him that he was well aware that his Prince had another task for him. Then he moved on to discuss logistics.
  
  Afterwards, only Davos and Ser Gerold lingered in the room. "I liked it better when he did not know who he was. Everything was so simple then." Ser Gerold told Davos. "How do you really feel about shifting our focus from our long time goal to this dead people and White Walker emergency?
  
  "I think our Prince is doing the right thing. He is not doing this for personal gain, Ser Gerold. I am inclined to believe he will be doing the realm an even bigger service by defeating the dead than by deposing King Robert."
  
  At the knight's questioning frown he explained. "Can you imagine how big the army of the dead would get if they could absorb all of the Wildlings into their ranks. The Night's Watch wouldn't stand a chance against an army of at least a hundred thousand strong. After defeating the Night's Watch, the dead would simply have to open the gates of Castle Black and they could swarm Westeros. Everyone would be dead before they even recognised what attacked them. I would like to accompany our Prince to the Wall as well but will abide by his decision."
  
  Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan were conspiring in the corner. At Ser Gerold's admonishing look Ser Arthur spoke up to explain why they were whispering together. "We both believe there is a prophecy about this war. Prince Rhaegar was obsessed by it. He once told me the northern tale of The Long Night and the Essosi prophecy of Azor Ahai were linked somehow. Have you never heard him mention it? He believed that the Targaryens would play a role in protecting the realm from the Long Night. He honestly considered that he himself could play a major part. The famous Prince Who Was Promised. Shortly before he died he was convinced that the prophesied Prince would come from his bloodline. Do you not see? Jon might possibly be this Prince Who Was Promised. Perhaps he is destined to fight this war and we should all help him instead of dissuading him. Westeros can wait. If he does not do this then Westeros may well be doomed and conquering it will become meaningless."
  
  "I will need more information before I can wrap my mind around this." Ser Gerold told them. He felt a headache coming up. When had things started to become so convoluted? Only a moon ago it seemed like their slow scheming would reach a swift and peaceful conclusion. Now they were talking about ice monsters, dead people and prophesies.
  
  "Sam, can you tell me the book version of the tale of the Long Night? Just stick to the text, no wishful thinking or speculation of what this might mean for us or our Prince please."
  
  Sam was only too happy to oblige. They ordered supper and Sam told them all he had read about The Long Night and the tale of Azor Ahai.
  
  Jon did not make an appearance at supper or at all that evening. He slept till morning.
  
  Ser Gerold ambushed his Prince after breakfast. Jon had mentioned that he wanted to check on his dragons. It was the opportunity he needed to have an overdue private talk with his Prince.
  
  "It is really important to redefine our relationship, my Prince." Ser Gerold started out as soon as they were out of sight of the settlement. Jon just nodded and let him continue.
  
  "The Gods are my witness, I have done my utmost to adapt to you gradually taking over command and making decisions. I even congratulated myself and was convinced that everything was working out until you pulled this stunt. Almost four days of being incommunicado, four days of being without our protection and not even a little hint of what you intended to do so we could at least advise you, if only to ease our minds."
  
  Jon tried to interrupt but Ser Gerold continued, clearly not ready to hear his Prince's opinion yet.
  
  "I took the time to meditate long and hard these last few days, my Prince. I realise that my options are limited since you can just literally fly away and leave the nest if we butt heads. So we need to set up some ground rules. I will promise to hear you out every time, no matter what a farfetched scheme you come up with. But you need to confide in me, in us. I will remind myself each time to accept that you are the one to make the final decision. I just need you to come to us so we have the chance to offer you our insight if not our direct help. Give me, I mean us, at least a chance to influence your plans, slow you down if necessary so extra safety measures can be taken. I solemnly swear that I will not confront you head on or force you to stay with us. I also vow that I will abide by your final decision each and every time, my King." Ser Gerold ended his plea knelt on the ground his head bowed in submission.
  
  "Please rise, Ser Gerold." Whatever outcome Jon had expected from this conversation to have a submissive Ser Gerold kneeling before him was not it. He longed for the guidance of Davos Seaworth. He took a deep breath. "I appreciate what you just said. I really do. You are the most loyal Lord Commander a King could wish for. I will do my utmost to provide you with enough information to organise my safety. I only did what I did because I was afraid my Uncle Benjen would not survive if I let you delay me or prevent me from going. "
  
  Ser Gerold had gotten up while Jon talked. They resumed their walk without exchanging another word. Both were contemplating the significance of their promises. Jon was the first to get unsettled by the continued silence. He frantically searched for a topic of conversation to lighten the mood.
  
  "I'm glad to hear funds will not be a problem." He spoke at last. "Ser Arthur has not let anything slip yet? The next time I see Uncle Ned, he will have to let me know how he is almost singlehandedly financing a Targaryen restoration. Any ideas?"
  
  "I have some theories, my Prince. However they are just wild speculations. I could as well be telling you bedtime stories." Ser Gerold's demeanor betrayed his interest in the topic.
  
  "Tell me anyway." Jon encouraged as he watched Ser Gerold relax before his eyes.
  
  "Actually I have only three. The lame one being he inherited a secret stash of gold. You know how the noble Starks do not waste a lot of money in the North, no tournaments or feasts without a legitimate reason because 'winter is coming'. His ancestors could have accumulated a fortune living so frugal and simple for thousands of years. The second theory is of secret mines in the North with untold riches. You know how the Northerners live isolated from the rest of the Kingdom and protect their way of life. It would not be so far-fetched to learn that they kept such a thing from getting out. The last one however, well that is just wishful thinking." He looked sideways and noticed he had his Prince's rapt attention.
  
  "Well?" Jon urged him to continue.
  
  "It is the timing of it all you know. Money stopped being a problem as soon as Lord Tywin Lannister disappeared. Ever thought of making a connection there?" Ser Gerold's eyes sparkled with mischief.
  
  "Lannister gold? That would be hilarious." Jon contemplated the plausibility.
  
  "It certainly would be. It is not impossible though. Think on it and hint at it when you talk to one of your Stark uncle's next. I bet you would have more of a chance to extract information from your Uncle Benjen."
  
  "Of course! If your third theory should happen to be true, Uncle Benjen could have been the one to execute Uncle Ned's plan."
  
  "What makes you think it was Eddard Stark's plan? Something that devious? It could as well have been an accidental thing, something that popped up while they were apprehending Tywin. For all we know they found him sitting in the middle of his pile of gold trying to count how much he was worth." Ser Gerold smiled openly now.
  
  "Or Howland Reed had a rewarding premonition?" Jon ventured more seriously.
  
  "I hadn't considered that possibility. We make a good team, my Prince." He admitted.
  
  "A good team at spinning fairy tales for all we know." A wide smile finally appeared on Jon's face as well. "We have arrived, Ser Gerold. Stay here, I will be well in sight but at a safe distance. I'm eager to get cuddled by my dragons.
  
  The rest of that day was spent devising plans. After a grueling brainstorming session the night before, Ser Gerold and Davos had agreed to hold a mini council, just with Jon and the two of them. Together they would try to reach some sort of consensus with the Prince before asking for input from the others.
  
  "I believe you when you say that you and your dragons are vital to help the Free Folk to survive. I am also willing to believe that it is not a possibility to postpone this fight against the dead until you have established yourself as the True King and can use the manpower and resources of the Seven Kingdoms to fight these White Walkers. I am even willing to go as far as to say that there may be a sparkle of premonition in the legend of Azor Ahai and the tale of the Long Night. But," Ser Gerold took a deep breath."
  
  "You know," Jon intervened, "Uncle Ned has this saying. "Everything that comes before the word but is horseshit." He stopped and apologised upon seeing Davos shaking his head to convey a silent admonishment.
  
  "Do you want me to continue, my Prince?" Ser Gerold did not look best pleased with the interruption. Jon bowed his head conveying a silent apology now.
  
  "Before we decide to plan an all-out attack and a large scale evacuation of the Wildlings, uh Free Folk," he corrected himself seeing Jon's pertinent look, "is it not possible to get the enemy to retreat temporarily? Drive them back far enough, scare them, bluff, - any ideas on how to are welcome here - act in such a way that you can leave the North earlier and perhaps even catch up with us on Dragonstone. That way you can come back and finish the fight here moons, hopefully years later. It would have the added benefit to show to the entire realm how worthy you are of the title ' Protector of the Realm ' if you defeat the threat in the North after you are officially crowned King."
  
  "How have you arranged to travel from here to the Driftmark?" Jon asked, wanting to gather more facts and at the same time stall his answer so he could think a little bit longer about how to respond to Ser Gerold's suggestion.
  
  "I had planned on travelling on horseback to White Harbour and then sail from there to the Driftmark. I reckon the entire journey will take us a moon." Ser Gerold replied and received a consenting nod from Davos.
  
  "The sea voyage will take a bit less than three sennights if the winds are favourable." Davos confirmed.
  
  "You will be surprised how quickly I can get from the Wall to the Driftmark on Rhaegal's back. My guess is it will only take two or three days. I could even travel between the two locations if the need arises." He tried to assure the knight. Then he proceeded to tell them how quickly he had gotten from one point to another on his dragon these last few days. He described the easy relationship he had with Rhaegal and Viserion and how safe he felt high up in the air with them. He added how Viserion followed them without needing extra guidance and provided extra safety during their flights.
  
  "Don't you realise that I will be safer flying to Dragonstone than you will be on your journey to the Driftmark? You should be careful. Best check with Yara Greyjoy where Euron Greyjoy and his ships are so you can avoid running into him. Sam should not travel to Oldtown if Euron plans an attack there."
  
  He addressed Ser Gerold in particular now. "Your suggestion of forcing the enemy to retreat only has merit if we can come up with a sound strategy to contain the dead effectively for a significant amount of time. However I am not willing to gamble with the lives of the Free Folk. I want the ships in place anyway, whether we decide to evacuate or not. If the situation escalates due to some unforeseen circumstances, the ships will not be able to get there in time.
  
  Jon turned to Davos. "What is your opinion, what are you thinking, Davos? How would you handle it?"
  
  "I support your idea of moving the ships to both sides of the Wall as soon as possible. I would like to come with you to the Wall and take Ser Arthur, Sandor and Gendry with us. We could sail to Bear Island first and bring the fleet along to the west side of the Wall. Then we shall travel overland to Castle Black as swiftly as possible. Once we have arrived, we can evaluate the situation thoroughly and decide together whether it is possible to reach a safe status quo or not."
  
  Jon spoke up now. "I had hoped you would be willing to take command of the invasion of Dragonstone, Ser Gerold. And Davos, I like your idea and who to take along and please do include Ghost since I won't be sailing with you. I will fly to Castle Black and save valuable time assessing the situation and devising plans with the Night's Watch and the representatives of the Free Folk while you travel by conventional means. By the time you arrive you can look at our strategies and adjust them or come up with additional ones."
  
  Then he turned his head to address Ser Gerold once more. "You will have to speak with Sandor though. There will be a lot of fire involved. I really hope he can come along. I think he will be the best fit to deal with the Free Folk. We will also need to make sure Ser Arthur's swordarm is fully functional."
  
  "This is one issue where we think alike, my Prince. I already talked to Sandor and Ser Arthur last night after you retired. Sandor really wants to go with you and promises he has ample motivation to overcome his fear of fire. Ser Arthur's claims his arm will be fully healed by the time they reach Castle Black. I will check with the Maester just to be sure."
  
  He paused and looked beseechingly at Jon. "But my Prince, if you fly ahead of them to the Wall, that implies you will arrive there a long time before any of your Kingsguards or Ghost arrive." Ser Gerold pointed out. "Is there no other way?"
  
  "You can send a message to my Uncle Benjen if that appeases you. He can act as a guard until the rest arrive if that eases your mind and I will have two large loyal dragons with me. I will be scouting some of the time high up in the air anyway. I promise not to take any risks and to stay high up in order to avoid possible arrows or spears. Please Ser Gerold, believe me. If you had seen what I have north of the Wall, you would understand I have no choice. I will not rest easy knowing the dead might attack women and children while I while the time away and feel useless on a boat sailing slowly towards the Wall."
  
  "Perhaps you have a point there but we can still discuss how to keep you safe. Is there no way you could take someone with you on Rhaegal?" Ser Gerold asked.
  
  "Supposing Rhaegal would agree, there is still the fact that his scales are rather hot to the touch. If we can find a solution for that, I would do my utmost to get Rhaegal to comply." Jon was warming up to the idea.
  
  "What if they wrapped their legs in several trousers and furs?" Ser Gerold proposed.
  
  "That would hinder their grip on the dragon and they would slide off." Jon objected.
  
  "What if we could make some kind of saddle with an enormous belt going around Rhaegal's body?"
  
  "Again I would have to get Rhaegal to comply. I cannot help but think it would be uneasy for him. I need to think some more on this and I will consult with Rhaegal when I visit the dragons later today."
  
  Davos suggested reconvening later with the entire small council. Jon suggested an early supper and to hold the meeting afterwards, that way he could first organise a sparring session. He was eager for some exercise.
  
  The next day Ser Gerold watched Ser Arthur and Sandor Clegane accompany Jon when he visited his dragons. Gendry walked alongside Jon.
  
  "Why would Gendry want to visit the dragons?" He asked Davos Seaworth who had joined him at the window.
  
  "If I had to guess, I would say our Prince wants to find a way to make your idea work. He will probably ask if Gendry can come up with a means of fastening a saddle on the dragons back." Davos saw Ser Gerold's interested expression.
  
  "Let us hope they find a way. It would make me sleep a lot better at night knowing that the Prince had one of us with him at the Wall." He remarked.
  
  "Perhaps there is another possibility to provide him with some protection. Do you remember Jon telling us about Ser Jaremy Rykker being Master at Arms at the Wall? Surely you know he was one of Prince Rhaegar's loyal bannermen. He fought with him at the Trident and got sentenced to the Wall for it. I am sure he would be willing to look after our Prince for you. Perhaps he even knows of other Targaryen loyalists who got banned to the Wall and Rykker could assemble a protective detail to help protect the true heir to the Iron Throne."
  
  "I would feel a lot better if I knew for sure." Ser Gerold tone sounded hopeful.
  
  "What keeps you from writing Maester Aemon and asking him? I am sure Sam would help you with the code." Davos suggested.
  
  "That is an excellent idea. I will inform my Prince first though. I will not go behind his back. The only effective way we can protect him over there is with his cooperation. Thanks, Davos. That is an excellent suggestion. Our Prince was right to name you Hand. Are you sure you do not want us to address you more formally?"
  
  "Not in our tight group, later in front of the people that have to respect our King, I will have no choice. Not yet though. I like my name. Davos will do for now."
  
  The two men fell silent. Although they stared out of the window for a long time, neither of them took in anything they saw. Both were mulling over several of the issues they wanted to resolve before the meeting they would hold with the entire group after supper.
  
  Four days later, Jon watched the ships leave Sea Dragon Point and head for Bear Island. There they would join the rest of the fleet and sail to the Bay of Ice. Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan, Sam and several crew members that now fulfilled the role of houseguards would travel overland to White Harbour. They would take a road that stayed south of Winterfell. They had not packed much and would travel as fast as the horses could manage. The party was mounted and ready to depart as well but waited until they witnessed Jon mount Rhaegal and fly off with Viserion following his brother. Only when Jon was no longer visible, did Ser Gerold urge his horse forward. He was going to secure a home base for his Prince and Princess.
  
  Interlude 14: Growing strong
  
  The day was too hot for her to give her temper free reign. It would only result in a ridiculous headache that would linger for several days. She longed for the days that she had been younger and more energetic. She watched her son's obese body bend the frail garden chair. They were both seated in a secluded spot in one of the well-tended gardens of her domain. She had chosen a spot in the shade but the heat was still rather oppressive.
  
  "What do you think you are doing here? Whatever could you have been thinking, leaving King's Landing and arriving unannounced on my doorstep?" Her oaf of a son had left the capital days after the King had travelled north to those enigmatic Starks.
  
  "Well the King left and with Lord Arryn deceased, there will not be any important meetings so I decided..."
  
  "To take a holiday?" Olenna sneered at Mace Tyrell. "Why did you not accompany our beloved King? My youngest grandson will be at Winterfell by then and you could petition the King to let him come home. As if he would be safer from scandal in the North than here in his own home. Pfff."
  
  She opened her hand painted fan. It was a present from her granddaughter. Margaery had painted a golden Tyrell rose on a plain green fan making it the most treasured one she possessed. The soft breeze it created when she moved it cooled the sweat on her brow. She noticed her son inhale and exhale deeply and knowing his habits she intervened before he gathered enough courage to speak.
  
  "I'm not finished," she admonished him further. "And if you were not smart enough to think about that plan yourself, you could at least have stayed in the capital and taken an active part in governing the city. Who will profit now, Petyr Baelish or Varys, the Lannister dwarf? It could be any other small Lord with a lick of sense who recognises a power vacuum when it presents itself."
  
  "But the King all but ordered me to." Mace Tyrell was sweating even more and it was not all because of the heat.
  
  "And you didn't think to persuade him with promises of... I do not know some costly thing he covets or more whine or gold? For the Godssake, you practically lived with the man for years now. Haven't you learned anything about his weaknesses? Do you even know the meaning of the word 'manipulate'?" She exclaimed. "I should have summoned you back to the Reach and then pretended you were ill so I could send Willas in your stead as soon as he came of age. Fortunately he doesn't take after you. He is a true diplomate that one. I sent him to Winterfell by the way. He will come home with Loras, I am sure of it. I even hope he can arrange a betrothal between us and the Starks."
  
  Poor Mace Tyrell could hardly follow the leaps this conversation took. He just repeated the last thing he registered regretting the stupid impression he would make beforehand. He felt really tired and the travel sickness he always suffered from after a long trip had not yet abated. "Betrothal? Do you think Willas can influence the King away from betrothing Joffrey to the Starks in their own home?"
  
  "There are several Stark children and we have several children as well Mace. Many possibilities to form couples, my dear." She explained to him in a tone she normally used to spell something out to a small child. "Besides, do not tell me you have not heard the recent rumours concerning the royal children? Perhaps it is a blessing that our dear Margaery is not yet betrothed to the Crown Prince. I plan to bet on several horses. I seems a new contender has entered the race."
  
  "A new contender?" Mace limited himself to parrot his mother's words once more.
  
  "Well you can be excused not to have heard of this, I suppose. The rumours are circulating mostly around the southern shores of the Narrow Sea. Dragons have been spotted. Several sources claim this. Some suspect they belong to the Golden Company. I however do not think so. I learned something else. Prince Quentyn Martell recently visited the Targaryen Princess in Pentos. She resisted his charms if the reports of my spies are to be believed so she might still be unattached. Imagine Mace, an unmarried Targaryen female with dragons! I still have two grandsons on the marriage market. We need to be smart about this. I have sent a tentative declaration of support her way. Forcing her didn't work for the Dornish so I intent to profit from their mistakes and play it the other way. I left the ball in her court for now."
  
  "What about all the money we've thrown at the Baratheons?" Mace complained not in the least happy with her fast changing loyalties.
  
  "Well if the royal children are really bastards, Lord Stannis is next in line. If he has no male heirs, and Renly is out of the picture,... A pity Shireen is so young. But anyway, Stannis knows all too well that the royal family has our financial backing ever since Lord Tywin Lannister disappeared without a trace. By the way I am really disappointed you have not gotten any information of his whereabouts out of any of the many Lannisters at court. Really Mace, you should try harder." She continued her haphazard reasoning out loud. "A pity Renly is imprisoned. Loras would surely have been able to persuade him to marry our Margaery. Well, best forget about that, even I cannot think about a plan to rehabilitate his sorry ass. Stannis hmmm, he has no male heirs. I know he is a lot older than her but if he set that old crone of his aside, Margaery could still give him sons."
  
  "Stop it woman. Rewind a bit. Who are you supporting? The Baratheon crown Prince, Stannis, the Targaryen Princess with her rumoured dragons or do you want an alliance with the Starks in the North?" He dabbed his forehead with a no longer pristine looking piece of cloth.
  
  "Have I not taught you anything at all?" His mother exclaimed, shaking her head in dismay. "You plant seeds for all possibilities but only harvest the one that grows the strongest. You pull the others out as if they were weeds when they become superfluous."
  
  " Growing strong ." Mace quoted their house's words. "I remember. You did tell me this before, didn't you?"
  
  "More than once, my son. More than once." Lady Olenna got up. "It is time I went back inside. I have things to attend to before I tutor Margaery. She at least shows the promise of a keen political mind, kind of like Willas. Those two take after me. I just need to guide her some more so she can develop her skills, grow them so to speak. That way she will be able to govern her future husband and hopefully the realm."
  
  She hurried along the garden path towards the beautiful palace, leaving a despondent man behind in the heat. Olenna had long noticed that the sun had shifted and his chair was now flooded with golden sunlight. The imbecile hadn't even had the presence of mind to switch to a place in the shades.
  
  Swiftly she strode to her favourite parlour with north east facing windows and installed herself in her usual cosy chair in the corner where she had the best view of the colourful flowerbeds. She mentally reviewed the conversation she just had with Mace. For all she had been able to intimidate her ignorant son the entire length of the conversation, she was actually quite frustrated. She had been scheming for years and had nothing to show for it yet.
  
  Somehow, she had been thwarted at almost every turn. Her spies had given her contradicting reports. The recurring theme throughout her struggles, were the unusual overtures of House Stark over the past few years. Benjen Stark had even come all the way to Highgarden twice. Oh, she had not been fooled. The man did collect what they owed the Night's Watch but his subtle references and inquiries about her allegiances, the mention of the Targaryens in Pentos and the new trade agreements between the North and the Reach, they were all unprecedented. Not to mention such behaviour was out of character for the normally so self- sufficient Northern Kingdom. She knew about the extravagant expansion of their glass gardens. None of it made any sense.
  
  Most of all she had been flabbergasted by Benjen Stark's unconditional sharing of new gardening techniques with House Tyrell. She had been cautious and had applied the revolutionary method on a small part of their fields. She had been astounded when the harvest on these lands had effectively increased by more than twenty per cent.
  
  Events had culminated lately in Eddard Stark proposing a marriage alliance, hinting at big political changes. She had known for a fact that she was not the only one scheming to profit from the downfall of the royal children and House Lannister. But who would have suspected House Stark to enter the bid for the Iron Throne so prominently?
  
  Perhaps I should have gone north myself was her last thought before she fell into a slumber.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter, King Robert finally arrives at Winterfell.
  
  And we are introduced to Roose Bolton.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The royal visit - part one
  Chapter 15: A Royal visit - part one
  
  Summary :
  
  The King will arrive at Winterfell mre than a sennight after Robb.
  
  Roose Bolton is eying House Stark's position in the north
  
  Notes:
  
  I know you many of you are waiting for Jon and Dany scenes but bear with me a little while longer. I'll make it worth your while.
  
  Since the main story is taking place on more than one front now, some chapters will take place simultaneously. We switch to Robb Stark arriving home. This chapter takes place approx. eight days after chapter 13-Decisions, which gives Robb just enough time to travel overland from Sea Dragon Point to Winterfell.
  
  The Boltons are their own warning. I apologise in advance for their actions and remarks, especially their sexist remarks. I will state for the record that I do not agree with them, obviously, me being a female should convince you of my sincerity.
  
  As I mentioned before, the interludes can refer to past, present or future occurrences. I would like point out that at the end of the interlude 13 there is a fast forward of approximately two moons before Ser Barristan arrives in Pentos to escort Dany home. That encounter still needs to take place in the near future of our main story line. In our main story, Ser Barristan is momentarily in the process of travelling from Sea Dragon Point overland to White Harbour in the company of Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, Sam and some minor characters.
  
  If things are still unclear, you can contact me by leaving a comment.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  When Robb entered through the gates at Winterfell there was no big welcome home ceremony. Everywhere he looked he saw a flurry of activity and hardly anybody looked up from their duties. It was evident Winterfell was preparing for the imminent royal visit and the homecoming of the heir was of no significance. Well he hadn't announced the exact date he would arrive and had sent no outriders. Still it was humbling. He swallowed, urged his horse onwards and entered the courtyard. When he turned to Edric, he noticed that his friend was not deterred by the lack of attention their arrival inspired. His reaction was one of awe. The young man was turning his head left and right, visibly impressed by the size of Robb's ancestral home and the excellent condition of the outhouses and fortifications.
  
  "You have a beautiful home Robb," he complimented his friend.
  
  Robb smiled. Edric was right, he had a beautiful home. And just like that, the unwelcome feeling dissipated and it felt good to be home.
  
  A stable boy approached and took the reins of their horses. While Robb and Edric dismounted, Greywind sprinted away to greet Nymeria who came running from the direction of the inner courtyard.
  
  "Robb you are home!" Of course, Arya was not far behind her direwolf. "You brought Edric! Is Jon here too, and Gendry?" she scanned the rest of his party with excitement.
  
  Robb hugged his little sister. "Jon had urgent business elsewhere Arya. He will come when he is able to. He promised you, didn't he? Gendry is assisting Jon, as is Sam for that matter." He gently reminded her of her omission of Sam in her preference for Jon and Gendry. Another thing he could tease Gendry with when he next saw him.
  
  Arya's smile dimmed a little but her natural exuberance didn't suffer too much. She made an awkward curtsy to greet Edric Dayne and called out "Come on! Let me introduce you to my siblings. They are still at their lessons. Sansa and I have already finished." And without further ado she led the young men into the great hall.
  
  Robb first spotted his mother and Sansa who were sitting at a table close to the entrance. They were embroidering a dress with the double wolf head sigil, probably one for Sansa to wear during the royal visit. Catelyn Stark was the first one to come forward. She hugged her son as if she hadn't seen him in years and welcomed him home. Robb hugged her back reciprocating the warm welcome and promised that they would speak later.
  
  As soon as he released his mother, Sansa was at his side and embraced him as well. "Welcome back brother. Mother was worried you wouldn't be home in time for the King's visit."
  
  "I reckon you were as well?" Robb smiled at his sister. She seemed to have grown even taller. "You look well Sansa. If you come to my room tonight after supper, I will give you a gift from Jon."
  
  "From Jon, for me?" Sansa looked astonished. Robb just nodded. Upon noticing his sister's shy glances towards his friend, he remembered he still needed to introduce Edric.
  
  "Mother, please meet my friend Lord Edric of House Dayne, the Lord of Starfall in Dorne"
  
  "Edric, this is my mother, the Lady of Winterfell."
  
  Lady Catelyn curtsied. "And this is my sister lady Sansa." Sansa curtsied as well. Robb saw his sister kept her head down but peeked through her eyelashes at Edric. He had never seen his sister this shy before. But then he remembered that his father had described her almost identical reaction to Loras Tyrell when he first arrived at Winterfell.
  
  While Edric greeted Sansa, Lady Catelyn and Robb intercepted Bran and Rickon who had left the corner table.
  
  "Robb, you're home!" Bran shouted while his younger brother jumped Robb.
  
  Robb took it all in stride, gave Rickon a kiss on his cheek and gently put him back on the ground. He kneeled down and gave them both a quick hug "I see Bran is still in one piece. Have you been good boys while I was away? Will I be able to reward you with an awesome sparring session? I learned a few new tricks you know."
  
  While he got back up both started talking at the same time in an attempt to convince their older brother that they had behaved themselves very well. "I'll ask mother and if she agrees, you will have earned a present from our friend Jon. Now let me quickly introduce you to my new friend Lord Edric Dayne and then you better get back to your lessons."
  
  Edric still stood in the same spot where he had left him. He was talking to Sansa. His sister's cheeks had reddened and she seemed to listen with rapt attention to whatever Edric was telling her. Apparently his friend had turned on his southern charm. Robb had to admit that they made quite the picture. His sister was rather tall for her age. Her long red hear was neatly held together by a few braids in a style that enhanced the delicate features of her Tully face. She wore a simple grey dress that accentuated her slim figure. His friend's pale blond hair and dark blue eyes made him stand out here in the North. Edric had dressed for the occasion and wore a light purple coat over his best tunic and breeches. Loras would have a rival. Robb decided to keep a close eye on the two young men. He didn't want his sister to get hurt. What Edric and Loras would consider innocent flirtations could easily be misconstrued for a tender regard by his rather naïve younger sister who was still in the phase of believing the romantic songs about handsome princes and valiant knights.
  
  For now he interrupted them by presenting his younger siblings to Edric. Then Lady Catelyn ushered her youngest sons back to the table where Maester Luwin sat waiting patiently beside a big book that Robb recognised all too well. It described the ancestry of the houses of the North. Bran and Rickon went willingly. Robb's promises had yielded the intended effect for now. They really wanted to earn that gift and the promised sparring session.
  
  Robb quickly introduced his friend to the Maester who had been at Winterfell for as long as Robb could remember and then left the great hall with Edric. Sansa and her Mother followed them out. In the corridor they encountered Arya who was talking non-stop to Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth. It was clear his youngest sister had run off to inform them of his arrival and dragged them here to welcome him home. Robb ushered them all outside so Maester Luwin's lessons could continue without further disturbance.
  
  Edric acted as a real gentleman and offered an arm to Sansa and Lady Catelyn. Robb walked beside Loras and Brienne. As far as he could tell, Loras Tyrell didn't react to Sansa's fascination with Edric Dayne. His father was probably right. Loras didn't have any designs on his sister. The Tyrell wasted no time in asking him for a sparring session. Robb was only too happy to oblige and they set a time on the morrow. He would miss Ser Arthur's training sessions but sparring with Loras and perhaps Lady Brienne would be a significant improvement over the obligatory bout with Theon Greyjoy. The Kraken had yet to appear and so did Robb's father. Robb felt his chest tighten at that last thought and grew serious.
  
  "Where's father?" Robb asked his mother when her conversation with Edric Dayne had died down.
  
  "He's in his solar. He is getting more messages than ever. I hope you can help him with some of his business now that you know more about what is going on. I hardly get to see him these days and things will only get worse when the King and his entourage arrive."
  
  "I'll do my best, Mother. When do you expect the King?" He hoped it would not be too soon. He needed time with his father. He had a lot to tell him and even more to ask him.
  
  "Probably in a sennight. I was getting worried you would not be here in time. It is really nice to have you home, Robb. I prayed to the Gods every day to ensure your timely and safe return." His mother hugged him once more and went back inside taking Sansa with her. They needed to find a guest room for Edric Dayne. She would have to make her excuses to the young Lord. The best rooms were all reserved. She could only allocate him a smaller one in an obscure part of the castle. Well, it couldn't be helped.
  
  Robb saw that Edric was talking to Loras and Brienne with Arya listening in. He made his excuses to his guest and promised to be back later. He was going to talk to his father.
  
  When Robb entered the solar, his father immediately got up and greeted him warmly. Robb hugged his father but then took a step backwards. He ignored his father's offer to take a seat. Instead he reached into his pocket and handed him an unopened scroll.
  
  "A messenger caught up with me two days after I left Jon at Sea Dragon Point. Apparently not long after my departure, they received a call for help from Uncle Benjen beyond the Wall." Robb said in a neutral voice. His father accepted the scroll but didn't blink.
  
  "You knew already that Uncle Benjen was still alive? Did you receive the news enclosed in this scroll as well?" His curiosity lent a bit more humanity to his voice.
  
  Ned took a seat and opened the message. He scanned it quickly and told Robb all he knew about this matter. "I received a message from Maester Aemon that Jon arrived at Castle Black safe and sound and that we should not worry. Jon vowed not to take any risk and reassured us that the two dragons can cope with the cold."
  
  Ned frowned as he continued. "Not worry? Easier said than done. He is my only nephew and the only thing I have left of my dear sister. Moreover I have invested seventeen years of my life in his cause and all of that would come to nothing if he perished beyond the Wall. And does the young man heed my council? No, he flies about on his dragons in the open and now he just takes off to a very dangerous place and has nobody with him for protection or guidance." He looked up at his son who still had not taken a seat. "I should not worry," he repeated and shook his head. "How do I do that?"
  
  Robb kept his expression neutral. His eyes however studied his father without their usual warmth. "I had almost the entire length of my journey to think about this. Since there is nothing we can do at this point, it will not make a difference whether we worry or not. Also, I believe we should trust Jon. I was there and have actually seen him handle several tricky situations. He isn't rash or reckless. He carefully considers the consequences before acting. You should trust him just as you should have trusted me, father." Robb uttered these last words in a bitter tone.
  
  Either his father ignored his last sentence or he hadn't heard it. He did not look up and was still reading Davos Seaworth's message that Robb had handed him. "Apparently, Davos writes that Jon promised to be back in a few days. So we should receive a raven with more news any day now. Let's pray to the Old Gods that Benjen and Jon both stay all right." He finally looked up and was taken aback by the angry expression on his son's face. "Take a seat son? I'll strain my neck if I have to look up at you much longer."
  
  Robb looked even more dismayed at his patronizing tone and started pacing the limited space. Suddenly he stopped before his father's chair all hesitancy gone. He needed to air his grievances and he needed to do it now.
  
  "Why didn't you warn me before I went to visit Jon? Why, Father? You didn't have to tell it all. You could have prepared me a little bit. It would have made such a difference had you only explained to me how the Targaryens were falsely blamed for a lot of things by your old friend King Robert."
  
  He towered over his father his face now clearly showing his agony and guilt of his own actions. "I almost lost his friendship, Father. I was so shocked at first. I lashed out at him. I treated him as if he was this mad Targaryen that had killed my family."
  
  "Keep your voice down, Son. I'm sure Jon didn't..." But Robb didn't let him finish.
  
  "That's just it! He didn't. He is so considerate. By comparison, he made me look like a narrow-minded, bigoted imbecile." His emotions were running really high now. His face was flushed and he was close to tears.
  
  His father urged him to sit down once more and waited patiently until he complied. Then he persuaded him to listen to his point of view. He told him his motivation first and foremost had always been the safety of his family. His father then described the scene in the Tower of Joy in Dorne and his discussions with the three famous knights. He spoke at length so Robb had the time to calm down a bit.
  
  When his father stopped talking, Robb just sat there staring into space. He came back to his senses when he heard his father repeat a question about Jon and gave a terse answer. Not in the least deterred, his father kept asking him simple questions trying to get the conversation flowing again. How Jon looked? Was he healthy? Could he describe the size of the dragons, how was Davos doing as Hand? Robb realised he was gently but persistently persuaded to take an active part in the conversation with his father.
  
  Sam had once drawn his attention to Jon doing the exact same thing. How Jon had softly coaxed an unwilling conversation partner back into his good graces simply by talking to him of inconsequential matters at first. Tarly had pointed out the exact moment where Jon had noticed that the other man had calmed down enough and was once more willing to listen to him. Robb had witnessed how Jon started to say all the right things and how he had completely reversed the man's initial refusal.
  
  Now he realised that his father was using the same amazing ' people skills ' of Jon as Sam had jokingly called the gentle manipulation.
  
  He decided however in this case it was in his own interest to make peace with his father and started to speak freely about everything he had learned these past few sennights. He also addressed the letter from his mother containing the ridiculous marriage proposal from House Frey. His father confirmed Robb's suspicion that Littlefinger was trying to manipulate them and was using Lady Catelyn to do just that. Their similar conclusion further cemented the tentatively restored father and son relationship. Robb was taken aback however when his father brought up a serious betrothal proposal.
  
  "Lord Manderly is here for the King's visit and I remember you liked Wylla very much the last time you met her. Manderly tells me his daughter often talks about you and hasn't looked at another man since. I think it is an excellent idea seeing how House Manderly is an important and prosperous northern house. I am drawing up a settlement. You can read the draft if you want."
  
  Robb took a deep breath. "Father, isn't this a bit hasty?"
  
  "Son?" His father looked surprised. Clearly he had expected Robb to be happy with this choice of bride for him. "I have chosen her with care amongst dozens of candidates. She is an excellent choice and you like each other."
  
  "Is it true that you have sworn absolute fealty to Jon as the True King of the Seven Kingdoms when he had barely celebrated his twelfth nameday?" Robb tried to get him to understand where this was going.
  
  His father frowned slightly. "Yes I did. But that was just the public declaration of a much earlier commitment I made the moment we decided Jon's fate in that tower seventeen years ago. Why do you bring that up now?"
  
  "Hasn't it occurred to you that by swearing your oath to Jon, you will need his approval for this betrothal?"
  
  "I see no reason why he would not approve. Lord Manderly has been a big supporter of his cause for many years now." His father didn't understand Robb's reluctance.
  
  "What if Jon needs me to marry for political gain? Say I can buy him a Kingdom by marrying, I don't know, perhaps the Princess Arianne, Margaery Tyrell, Shireen Baratheon, Yara Greyjoy, some Lady of the Vale, or anyone else for that matter?"
  
  His father's eyes narrowed. "You have discussed this with him?"
  
  "Not as such. It could have come up though that hypothetically he could have the last word when it came to betrothals of people that owe him fealty."
  
  "Came up how?" His father's tone was accusing now.
  
  "It came up when I told him of mother's ridiculous idea that I should marry a Frey. He only said it to reassure me and then dropped the subject." Robb stood firm and defended his cousin. "But that doesn't make it any less true. You do realise that at the very least you have to inform him of your intentions and wait for his reaction?"
  
  His father didn't respond at first. He stood up, put another log on the fire and watched how the wood slowly started to catch fire. Finally his eyes left the hypnotising flames of the blazing fire and he turned back to face his son. Robb detected the exact moment his father decided to open up to him by the way he relaxed his shoulders.
  
  "It still is a strange concept," his father sighed and sat back down. "At first there was this tiny baby we needed to protect, and then there was this promising young boy who listened to my every word. But recently, his letters have become more confident. The last one was filled with orders I had to carry out. It seems his so called ' rite of passage journey' he insisted on has done him a world of good. And even though I am proud of how he is starting to take up his rightful role, that doesn't mean that I do not have trouble getting used to this new world order. For years my word was law here in the North. King Robert hardly ever tried to get me to do something and if he did, I ignored him most of the time."
  
  He paused and studied his son. "You may have a point there. I will inform Jon of my intentions. In return however, I want you to be truthful with me. What is the real reason that you object to this betrothal? Did you and Wylla have a falling out?"
  
  "We did not. You should know there was nothing serious between us to begin with. It was just a passing boy's crush. There are other things going on right now that are more important."
  
  Rob sighed when he saw his father's disappointed face. He needed to make his father understand how he really felt about the whole betrothal issue. "If I am completely truthful, I do not wish to marry yet. I'm not ready to commit to anyone. And I fervently wish I can marry someone I can at least respect and hopefully like somewhat. Wylla was just a silly infatuated girl that could hardly string two sensible words together. We didn't share a single meaningful conversation."
  
  "We all have to do our duty, Robb. But I will consider your words and at least stall the negotiations. I can always use the King's visit as an excuse." His father's voice sounded weary.
  
  Robb wondered whose idea the betrothal was. Perhaps not Lord Manderly but his father himself had made the first move. That would really put him in an awkward position. "Why not tell him the truth, Father? Lord Manderly knows your allegiance is to Jon, our True King. He happens to be one of the few people you can be straightforward with. You seem to get stuck in a deceiving mode sometimes." Robb couldn't help voicing a bit of his lingering resentment for being kept in the dark for so long. He stood up and gave his father along serious look before leaving the solar without uttering another word.
  
  After supper he brought his siblings to his room and gave them Jon's gifts. Rickon hardly remembered Jon but accepted his present with as much delight as the others. He received a beautiful story book. Each page had four different drawings depicting several animals on some sort of journey. A few animals belonged to species that Rickon had never heard of, not even in the stories old Nan told him sometimes. The text below each picture was written in the common tongue and repeated once more in High Valyrian. It was an enticing way to tell a story. It looked handmade.
  
  "Jon made this book himself." Robb confirmed when the exclamations had died down. "Be careful with it and allow your siblings the opportunity to read it sometime. It is yours though."
  
  Rickon pressed the book close to his chest. He looked at Robb with his big Stark eyes. "I will take extra good care of it, Robb. I promise."
  
  Bran received a package with iron tools, some thick rope and leather belts. He looked at Robb a question in his eyes.
  
  "These are devices that can help you when you climb." He showed his little brother the drawings Jon had included that depictured step by step how to fix the belts around his body and how to embed the iron pieces in the wall and attach his leather harness with the rope to these pieces. They will help keep you safe when you climb. Not only will they provide an extra foothold, they will also prevent you from falling all the way down if ever you happen to slip up. Best show these to Father first. He can help you cope with mother's reaction," he warned his little brother who looked like he wanted to run off and try them out at once.
  
  Now it was Sansa's turn. Robb handed her a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He smiled when he heard her gasp. When she removed the paper it revealed a large piece of exquisite woven fabric, enough to make a beautiful dress. The material was thick enough to keep her warm when winter came. She couldn't tell what colour it was exactly. Was it blue or was it green? It changed when the light touched it, just like the colour of the sea. Robb saw she was moved to tears. He waited until he had her attention and showed her that on the inside of the wrapping paper someone had drawn the designs for two evening dresses. "Jon got these from a friend at court. He claims these represent the latest fashion." Sansa just hugged her brother unable to utter a single word.
  
  He then showed his siblings the dagger Jon had gifted him and reminded Arya that she had already received her present. Arya nodded and proclaimed that even if Jon had given them beautiful things, her present was without a doubt the most awesome of them all.
  
  Robb stopped everyone's protestations by ordering them to write a thank you letter to their thoughtful and generous friend.
  
  The next morning, Robb and Edric joined the others in the training yard where the daily training sessions were about to begin. At first Robb just watched from the side lines. He was surprised by Arya's progress. When he saw the young girl fight Lady Brienne he noticed his little sister had developed an entirely different fighting style. Arya was quick on her feet and seemed to dance around her opponent. She had been taught moves that fitted her physique perfectly. He made a mental note to praise Lady Brienne for her excellent teaching skills later.
  
  Then Loras stepped forward and asked Robb to spar with him. Robb was happy to oblige and took his starting position his dulled training sword at the ready. Both boys started out tentatively at first evaluating the other's improvements since their previous sparring session in the Riverlands, but soon the fight grew more intense. Arya and Edric shouted encouragements and slowly a crowd gathered to watch the engaging spectacle. In the end Robb had to admit defeat. He had won several bouts but Loras had shown superior technique and gotten Robb to yield more often as he had been defeated. He swallowed his pride with some difficulty and shook the Tyrell's hand promising him to make it more difficult for him on the morrow. He was a bit mollified when he saw that Edric had trouble keeping Lady Brienne of Tarth at bay. He used the opportunity to study every tactic she employed. He was determined to do better and beat them the next time. He had neglected his training lately. The few sparring sessions he had attended at the Stony Shore with Jon and his guards, they had concentrated on battling in formation which meant that during these sessions he had always had at least one wingman defend his weaker side.
  
  It was Arya who broke his contemplation by pointing out how Sansa was staring with lovesick eyes at Edric. Robb just shook his head and told her to keep her voice down. It was not nice to put her sister on the spot like that. Sansa had turned red and whispered she was just admiring how well he fought.
  
  "Pffff," Arya responded. "Then you do not understand a thing about swordsmanship. Lady Brienne fights much better." It looked however the Gods had decided to take Sansa's side. Arya had not yet finished her sentence when Edric made Lady Brienne stumble and yield. It was however the only bout he would win against her that day.
  
  The crowd dispersed when Eddard Stark appeared on the rampart overlooking the training yard. "Please continue your training." He waved his hand then addressed his son. "Robb, can you join me in my solar please. I have received some messages and you will soon need to make yourself presentable to stand by my side when I greet new guests. Lord Bolton and Lord Umber have sent outriders to warn us of their arrival."
  
  The first message his father showed him was from Sea Dragon Point written by his cousin. Lord Stark discussed the content with him without holding back. Robb's first emotion was one of relief when Jon started his message by telling them Uncle Benjen was okay and would arrive at Castle Black soon. But then just as his father, Robb was taken aback by the speed of Jon's plans to invade Dragonstone. The Rebellion would start soon now. Nothing had prepared Robb however for the intense but mixed feelings that flooded him when it dawned on him that he was a fellow conspirator in this Rebellion and a traitor to King Baratheon. On the one hand he felt proud and elated that he was accepted and in the know, on the other head he felt nervous and scared. His heart beat so hard he wondered whether his father could hear it. He looked up and noticed the powerful Lord of Winterfell looked out of his depth and somewhat alarmed as well. The next few moons would not be dull.
  
  The days leading up to the royal visit Robb fell into a kind of routine. Despite the flurry of activity around the castle, his days were rather uneventful. He broke his fast with his friends, then attended the daily sparring session and was glad to see his own progress at the expense of his friends. Edric had praised him but Loras had just gritted his teeth and doubled his efforts to find new ways to beat him. After lunch he assisted his father while Loras carried out several tasks the Lord of Winterfell had assigned him. Edric either joined Loras or helped Lady Brienne who faithfully followed the younger Stark siblings in an effort to keep them out of trouble. They all dined together and played silly guessing games or told each other exaggerated tales.
  
  Theon Greyjoy kept a low profile these days, either keeping his conversation to neutral topics or making himself scarce. He rarely appeared at training sessions stating chores kept him busy. Robb knew it was just a flimsy excuse not to get soundly beaten each day by men younger than him.
  
  Robb relished these last few days of relative calm. He knew all too well it would not be long before things would start happening and he knew there was no guarantee that his family would stay as safe and happy throughout it all as they were now.
  
  One morning, Robb had just started another bout with Loras Tyrell when his father made an appearance on the rampart. The Lord of Winterfell waited until he had everyone's attention.
  
  "I suggest you all go to your rooms and make yourselves presentable. The King's party has been spotted and will be here shortly after noon. Everyone reacted excited. For many it would be the first time they laid eyes on King Robert and the King would be bringing almost his entire royal court north. While everyone made their way to their quarters, Robb noticed the tense posture of his father whose eyes were sweeping over the courtyard studying everyone's reaction. When he crossed his son's eyes both men exchanged a grave, meaningful look. His father subtly acknowledged him with a barely perceptible nod and disappeared inside.
  
  Everyone of importance stood lined up in the courtyard trying to be patient and appear at ease. Finally they could hear the noise of the royal caravan approaching the inner courtyard. Lord Stark surveyed the receiving lines. His wife stood at his right side in all her finery, her hair for once arranged in a southern style. He saw she had done something similar to both his daughters' hairdo, but while the style complemented the beautiful face of Sansa, Arya looked uncomfortable and had already managed to ruin the elaborate patterns of her braids. Robb stood upright a focussed expression on his face. Ned had noticed that he had helped Bran and Rickon get ready earlier. Even now his heir encouraged his younger siblings to stand straight with their eyes forward and keep the line straight. Ned was proud of him, he was proud of all his children.
  
  His eyes moved further down the line. Loras Tyrell stood out in all his finery. Eddard Stark had to stifle a laugh when he saw him. The northern Lords would never take him serious dressed like this. His bannermen dressed according to weather and functionality. The lad clearly hadn't considered the weather when he put on his thin flowery coat. The wind blew from the north today. He had seen the young man shiver more than once already. Lady Brienne stood stiffly next to him. Edric Dayne completed that end of the first line.
  
  Ned turned left to survey the other half of the front row. The more important Lords of the North were all present. Even Lord Roose Bolton had made the trip. Upon his arrival their greeting had been cold. Ned had insisted upon a truce for the duration of the King's visit. Roose Bolton had only agreed on the assumption that he would not leave Winterfell before all matters between them were resolved. Ned finished reviewing the lines. Behind him stood Theon Greyjoy next to his Master at Arms and Maester Luwin. Several minor lords, loyal houseguards and the rest of their household completed the receiving party.
  
  The gates opened and the large caravan entered the courtyard of Winterfell. He squeezed his wife's hand and gave her an encouraging smile. She nodded her head at him. He knew she would play her role to perfection. She often talked about visiting Kingslanding now and how she longed to mingle among royalty and the finest lords and knights of the realm. Ned turned his attention back toward King Robert. His mind was made up. He had promised himself to keep his guilt to a minimum. He would just do his part and serve his rightful King. 'You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused as to where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.' It would become his mantra during this ordeal.
  
  He started his mummery by kneeling deep and bowing his head in submission when the King came through the gates. Everyone followed their Lord's example. Ned could follow the feet of the squire that ran towards the King's horse to help his sovereign dismount. From the corner of his eyes he noticed the King had some difficult getting of his horse. Now Robert's feet were in front of him.
  
  The King made a hand gesture and Ned rose back to his feet. He could hear the shuffle of everyone else once more following his lead. "Your Grace." He greeted his former friend trying to keep the shock from his face when he took in the bloated figure of his once so vigorous foster brother.
  
  "Such a long time Ned. Why haven't I seen you?"
  
  "I have been guarding the North, your Grace." Ned replied keeping his tone neutral.
  
  The King glimpsed at the receiving line. "Catelyn," he greeted. "A fine looking bunch of children, my Lady."
  
  "I thank you, your Grace."
  
  "Your eldest looks ready to take the world on. He'll make a handsome northern Lord. You should get him married soon so he can start giving you grandchildren. The King surveyed the rest of the receiving line. He nodded his head a few times and decided he was done with the formalities. "Come Ned, let's visit the crypts." Without any consideration for his queen who had just arrived at his side, he left the courtyard."
  
  Both women looked at each other with barely contained unease. Then Catelyn greeted her Queen according to court protocol and showed her inside.
  
  In the crypt, King Robert took long strides towards the spot where Lyanna's statue stood. They were completely alone. He faced his estranged friend. "I need you Ned. I need you in Kingslanding. Now thatLord Arryn is dead, I would name you Hand of the King."
  
  "Your Grace," Ned started. He had stopped walking at this point. Two sculptures still separated the men from where his sister's likeness stood.
  
  The King had stopped as well and faced Ned. "I will not take no for an answer, Ned. Your son has grown up. He can guard the North in your stead. No more excuses. I need you now more than ever."
  
  "Your Grace?"
  
  "I am having nightmares, Ned. Every bloody night, ever since I heard the rumours of a dragon flying over the Narrow Sea. I should have killed every last one of these Targaryens"
  
  "I heard those rumours. My informants told me it was most likely a rather small one presumably owned by the Golden Company, not by the Targaryens in Essos. There is only one Targaryen left in Essos anyway. The Prince Viserys perished a long time ago."
  
  You do not think that female incestuous dragonspawn in Essos has anything to do with that flying monstrosity?" King Robert insisted.
  
  "I'm fairly sure. My sources tell me she hardly ever leaves her small fortress and if she does it is only on an innocent trip to a local market a few miles from her home. How could she possibly raise a dragon let alone send it out to kill pirates on the Narrow Sea?"
  
  "You do not reckon that this dragon is a threat to us then?" King Robert looked at his friend sporting almost the same look his children used when they needed reassurance.
  
  "Not now anyway. If you make enemies who have enough gold to hire the Golden Company however... But that is not the case is it? One small dragon chasing pirates is hardly a threat to Westeros, your Grace." Ned tried to keep his face even.
  
  "See you're making your case for me. My counsellors had their doubts about you. Told me you were locked up in the far north and didn't involve yourself with our politics. You're at least as well if not better informed than they are. What's more you have a sound mind in that head of yours and do not panic easily. Your advice on this matter outweighs everything my council has plagued me with lately. I am not asking you to become my Hand. You already are, Ned. You've attended your first official meeting with your King. How soon can we leave for King's Landing?"
  
  "And antagonise my wife? She has prepared several festivities for the coming days. The Lords of the North have travelled a long way to see you. No your Grace, my second advice as your Hand is to stay here for the prearranged two sennights."
  
  "Ah, now it is official. You've confirmed it yourself." The King beamed from ear to ear when he reached inside his pocket and handed Ned the famous Hand of the King's brooch.
  
  "Now about that betrothal between our children."
  
  "Better quit while you're ahead, your Grace. My daughter is far too young yet. Let's revisit this topic in a year or two." To appease Robert, he fastened the brooch on his doublet.
  
  "But Ned." Again Robert's demeanour reminded Ned of his children.
  
  "I'm sorry, your Grace. You get one favour from me today. Either I become your Hand or you get your betrothal. You choose." He kept his tone firm.
  
  "You bloody well know what I choose. I'll agree, for now anyway. In a year you say? You could get me in trouble with the Tyrells but well, my Hand will solve that for me. That's what I need a Hand for anyway. I get you to rule my Kingdoms and solve my problems while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave." The King belly laughed.
  
  Ned heard the manipulation of his deadline but decided to let it slide. Jon would make his move before the year was out anyway. "Shall we return to the courtyard, your Grace?"
  
  "Don't your Grace me when we are in private. That's an order. And I need your advice on another matter. What should I do with Renly?"
  
  "Is Prince Renly still in the black cells in King's Landing? Robert, you cannot be serious." Ned exclaimed feeling somewhat guilty about the younger Lord's fate.
  
  "No, I brought him with me. In chains, mind you. I wanted to ask you whether it would be a good idea to send him on to the Wall. You always claim the realm can use good men up there."
  
  "I hope you do not mean to sentence him to be a lowly recruit and make him vow his life to the Night's Watch foreswearing his title. Could you not send him there as your royal emissary with special rights and benefits instead?" Ned tried to at least ease the predicament of the unfortunate brother of the King.
  
  "Can I do that? Damn you're a genius Ned. I do not lose face and he gets to live a decent live. He is still my brother, you know." The King sighed. "This entire matter does not sit well with me. Of course I knew he leaned that way but he had always been so careful, so discreet. When I saw that Tyrell boy standing there... Best keep that lad out of my sight as much as possible, Ned."
  
  "Consider it done. I will draw up a royal decree for your brother. You will be able to sign it soon. My brother serves me as an official liaison as well. He is at the Wall now. I'll tell him to look out for Prince Renly. He will be all right, Robert. You can rest easy as far has he is concerned. And please give me leave to set him up in a room in the castle for now. I know just the place. Somewhere nobody will find him. I'll post my houseguards and ensure that he doesn't leave. But I would ask for your permission to release him from his chains."
  
  "The matter is your responsibility now. Do as you see fit. I'll sign whatever you write. Come on. Let us join the others in the Great Hall. I am in dire need of a large pint of ale." The King turned back without even sparing a glance for Lyanna's statue.
  
  Ned sighed and repeated in his head. 'You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused about where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.' He followed the King he pretended to serve.
  
  When Ned left the crypts the sunlight blinded him. He squinted and noticed King Robert standing next to his good brothers Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion Lannister. Ned could hear the King's booming laugh and used the opportunity to scan the courtyard for his Master at Arms. He saw the man standing in the corner talking to one of King Robert's Kingsguards. He gestured him to come over.
  
  "Cassel, look for Prince Renly Baratheon. He is imprisoned in one the wagons still waiting in the courtyard. I want you to take him out discreetly. Once inside, remove his chains and install him in one of the unused rooms in the east wing, best one at the end of the corridor next to the stockroom where we keep our stores for the coming winter. See that he has everything he needs, a comfortable bed regular food and drink of decent quality. I need you to post two discreet Stark houseguards and lock his door. And Cassel, treat him well, no jibes or harassment, he still is a Prince and the King's brother. I will punish anyone who oversteps. This also includes the White Cloaks or anyone else in the royal caravan, no matter their status. Do I make myself clear?"
  
  "You can count on me, my Lord. Prince Renly Baratheon will have no reason to complain. I will personally see to it. And let me be one of the first to congratulate you." Cassel's eyes dropped to the brooch pinned on his Lord's chest.
  
  Ned nodded his head and expressed his thanks. Rodrik Cassel watched his Lord walk away, a puzzled expression on his features. He didn't know what to think. His Lord had not confided in him but he had gotten wind of some of the things that were going on. This royal visit however did not fit his expectations. And now Lord Stark wore the brooch of the Hand of the King. He reckoned it was the very first time in his service to House Stark that he doubted his Lord's intentions. He would stay loyal but he was going to find a way to confront Eddard Stark in private. It was high time he knew for sure what was going on.
  
  In the meantime Lady Catelyn had ushered the royal entourage inside. They were all enjoying the surprising warmth inside the walls of Winterfell. Food and drinks were welcomed by all.
  
  Robb saw Lord Tyrion being interrogated by Arya and decided to let the scene play out. He frowned when he saw Prince Joffrey trying to push Sansa in a corner. His sister looked like a frightened deer. 'Damn what was the arrogant fool telling his sister to have her that frightened so quickly .' He had often heard her talk about the Crown Prince with a dreamy expression in her eyes always coming up with stories of how handsome and valiant he was. He then noticed Loras and Edric both had a thunderous expression on their faces and were following the scene as well. He decided to intervene in order to prevent his friends from doing something rash. Before he reached Sansa however, lady Brienne appeared at her side and introduced herself to the Crown Prince.
  
  "We met already in Kingslanding, my Lady." The Crown Prince was quick to dismiss her and continue his attentions to Sansa.
  
  "My Prince, I believe we have not been formally introduced yet? Lord Robb of House Stark at your service." Robb made a bow and subtly pushed his sister to the side. Lady Brienne didn't hesitate and inserted herself between the young girl and the Prince. "And have you met my younger brothers?" He signalled Rickon and Bran who were only too willing to approach and meet a real Prince.
  
  He saw Sansa whisper something in Lady Brienne's ear. She looked visibly relieved. He was glad he hadn't overstepped and that she had really been in need of rescue. Loras and Edric now joined the ladies. Robb proceeded with the introductions ignoring the sullen expression on the Crown Prince's face. The two groups split up. Prince Joffrey was now cornered by the three sons of Eddard Stark.
  
  "What did he do or say?" Edric whispered looking deep into Sansa's eyes a worried frown on his face.
  
  "Not here." Lady Brienne admonished him. "Let's all act normal and for the Gods' sake, do not leave Lady Sansa unattended for even one instant during the entire length of his visit. I do not trust that spoiled brat for one bit."
  
  Sansa shivered what only made the two young men more protective of her. "We are your servants, Lady Sansa. Feel free to call on us whenever you need us." Loras bowed and kissed her hand gallantly looking at Edric with a mocking expression in his eyes.
  
  "I think it is time lady Sansa changed into an appropriate dress for dinner. I will accompany her of course." Lady Brienne announced and led Sansa to the nearest entrance.
  
  "I do not like this, Loras," Edric exclaimed with great feeling although he kept his voice low.
  
  "Indeed, we better talk to Robb later. He can ask his father to intervene if necessary. Did you see the Hand of the King's brooch? Jon was right. But then he always is."
  
  Lord Tyrion was still entertaining Arya Stark. He rather liked the spirit of the little she-wolf. Without her noticing he had carefully interrogated her about the goings on at Winterfell. He now knew the Stark's normal daily routines. Had heard where they kept their direwolves at night and other useful stuff. He had obliged her however to keep her suspicions at bay and had described the latest tournament at King's Landing to her at length. More specifically how his brother Jaime Lannister had lost in the finals of the joust to Ser Arys Oakheart.
  
  He had been observing the goings on in the great hall as much as possible. His keen eyes had watched the scene between Joffrey and Sansa and he had been glad his interference had not been necessary.
  
  Suddenly his brother was at his side. "Why can you not tell her of all my glorious victories? Did you really have to describe my biting the dust in such gruesome detail?"
  
  Arya laughed. "Because he is smart and understands those are the stories I like the most. She took a piece of his white coat between her fingers. "How do you keep it so clean? I always wear dark clothes because I get dirty when I fight so that Mother can't distinguish the dirt since they already look dark before I start."
  
  "Gods girl, don't you ever forget to breathe?" Jamie removed his coat from her fingers. "You will make it dirty if you go on like that. Have you seen me fight since I arrived here?" When he saw her shaking her head he muttered. "Well, there you have your answer."
  
  Arya clearly didn't like his snobbish attitude and ran off in search of another victim to tell her stories about Kingslanding.
  
  Tyrion looked at his brother. "Did you really have to frighten the girl away? She means no harm. She is a lively little thing."
  
  "I prefer Tommen and Myrcella's attitude. They are quietly sitting over there looking at a book with little Rickon Stark. It must be a rather extraordinary book to keep Tommen's interest for this long."
  
  "I see you do not include Joffrey in your praise. Did you happen to notice his abominable behaviour earlier? I think he propositioned Sansa Stark". When he saw his brother's sceptical expression he added, "Yes I mean that by it and she didn't welcome his advances. To the contrary, the poor girl couldn't get away fast enough. Apparently she has suitors enough here at Winterfell to keep her safe even if her brother beat them to it and saved the damsel in distress."
  
  "What exactly did the stupid boy do now?" Jaime looked exasperated.
  
  "I saw him corner her and held onto her arm when she tried to get away. I think his words did more damage than his deeds though. She looked rather frightened." Tyrion watched his brother's frown grow more pronounced.
  
  "I'll talk to him." Jaime promised.
  
  "See that you talk to that sister of ours as well. Perhaps he is just following orders from his mommy dear." Tyrion was almost sure his sister had instigated this little scheme.
  
  "You don't think? All right I'll take care of it." He amended his sentence when he saw his brother's critical look.
  
  "I have to find me some more of this wine. Didn't I tell you that Lord Stark has excellent trade relations with the Reach? He certainly serves excellent wine."
  
  Tyrion made sure to pass near Tommen's and Myrcella's location to get a glimpse of the book they were still engrossed in under the watchful eye of Rickon Stark. He stopped abruptly when he heard Myrcella read something that resembled High Valyrian although her pronunciation was rather bad. "And how is my favourite niece tonight?" Tyrion asked and tried to study the book inconspicuously.
  
  Myrcella giggled. "I am your only niece, Uncle Tyrion. I am trying to read this funny book. "Animals are speaking in different languages, see?" She showed her uncle the book but didn't hand it to him. When Tyrion pointed at an image, she immediately withdrew the book and admonished him. "Be careful Uncle, I promised Rickon I would keep it clean. It is his most precious book you see. A dear friend made it especially for him. I had to be very persuasive to be allowed to hold it for a little while."
  
  "She gave him a kiss on his cheek." Tommen betrayed his sister, still disappointed he was not allowed to touch the book and had to restrict himself to look at it.
  
  Tyrion watched Rickon Stark turn red but the youngest Stark didn't give in and spoke up now. "It is my book. I decide who gets to see it. And the Princess is very careful, so she may have it a bit longer. I will want it back soon though."
  
  "That must be a very special friend or a very special book if you are so protective of it" Tyrion was really curious now. The page he had been able to see was intriguing. The sentences written beneath the drawings were indeed translations in High Valyrian, and not just some common words. Tyrion had seen several expressions he would have had trouble translating if not for the solution being written right beneath it. Perhaps the person who wrote this was from Essos and High Valyrian was his mother tongue? He listened carefully to Rickon's answer.
  
  "He is but he is more Arya's and Robb's friend cause I was really little when he visited. Arya says he is kind of our adopted brother but I do not believe that cause I never get to see him. I wrote him a thank you note even though I can't remember what he looks like."
  
  "I would treasure such a friend all the same." Tyrion remarked and left the children to continue his search for another glass of wine. He would make sure to have another conversation with Arya Stark in the coming days
  
  Robb gathered his siblings together before they went into supper. He had heard part of Rickon's conversation with Lord Tyrion Lannister. He stressed once more that Jon was a special friend, as good as family but that he actually was a bit of a secret. They should not talk about him while the King was here and certainly not answer questions of the Lannisters. Jon was part of their pack and they needed to protect him. He would stay safe if nobody knew who or where he was.
  
  When Arya told Robb in a superior tone she would never do that, Bran spoke up.
  
  "I saw you talking to the dwarf. You sure as hell told him a lot about Winterfell. And you talked to Brienne about Jon too." He accused her.
  
  "Bran, heed your language. He is Lord Tyrion Lannister to you. Do not call him the dwarf. If someone hears you talking like that you could get in trouble. He is the King's good brother. Also mother would wash out your mouth with soap if she heard you use that swear word." Robb admonished his brother.
  
  "I did talk to Lord Tyrion and I told him exactly what I wanted to tell him, a bit of the truth that wasn't a secret and a bit of a less accurate truth. I knew what he was about all along. I told him that the direwolves slept in a pen the entire night and he believed me. See? I am smarter than all of you." Arya was quick to defend her actions. "And I did not reveal much to the Lady Brienne, even though she keeps asking me about Jon Celtigar all the time. I only brought him up once because I wanted her to swear her sword to Jon. I know she can be trusted, Robb, I just know it." Arya's big eyes were fixed on Robb now a pleading look in them.
  
  "Better let Father handle that, Arya. I think Jon would appreciate it if you didn't talk about him to anyone. Can you do that for him?" While Arya nodded vigorously Robb continued to warn her.
  
  "Arya, do be careful. Lord Tyrion is very smart. Do not think you can outsmart him. From what I know of the Lannisters, he will try to find out more about our special friend."
  
  He turned to Rickon once more. "You are sure you didn't mention a name?"
  
  The little boy looked stricken as if he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Robb crouched down and put a reassuring hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Come now Rickon, you didn't really do anything wrong. You just didn't know before. If anyone asks after Jon again, persuade them to come to me with their questions. Just tell them that I am the one who knows him best." He turned his head to his little sister. "Arya, that goes for you too, you hear?"
  
  "I promise Robb, I will make Jon very proud." Arya was quick to point out.
  
  Robb smiled at her and nodded encouragingly. "I know you will, you already do."
  
  He patted his little brother on the shoulder once more. "Come on let me fix your shirt. You have to look your best if you want to sit next to Princess Myrcella again.
  
  Later that night Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne, Loras Tyrell and Robb cornered Lord Eddard Stark in his solar. After explaining Sansa's ordeal, Lady Brienne was appointed her faithful shadow for the duration of the royal visit and vowed to only leave her side when one of the others relieved her of her duties. They worked out some sort of schedule and some code words and signals. Lord Stark also doubled the guards in the corridors where the ladies slept.
  
  They discussed a few changes in the normal order of the day at Winterfell. One of them was a temporarily suspension of the sparring lessons of his children. For the entire length of the royal visit, the training yard was off limits to anyone under the age of fifteen. Lord Stark asked them all to keep Prince Joffrey entertained during the arranged activities and as far away from the ladies as possible. Lord Stark would speak to his wife about the seating arrangements in the Great Hall. When they ran out of ideas, Lord Stark asked them to leave so he could finish the royal decrees he was preparing.
  
  The next day after breaking their fast, Edric cornered Loras when he tried to leave the Great Hall. "Loras, can you escort me to my room in a bit? There is something I think you need to know." Edric had struggled with a dilemma but after talking with Lord Stark, they had decided his friend deserved to know the truth.
  
  "Something more serious than Sansa being harassed by a conniving upstart Prince?" Loras asked bewildered by the troubled look on Edric's face.
  
  "Be careful, someone might overhear you. Let's mingle for a bit. I'll meet you in the corridor at the left exit in a short while. I'll give you a signal before I leave and then you will wait a few moments before you join me." Edric whispered. "I need to talk to you alone without raising suspicion."
  
  Loras was intrigued now. However he obeyed and went over to the opposite side of the room where Rickon was showing his book to Tyrion without another glance or word at Edric. When Loras finally left the Great Hall, he found Edric waiting from him and followed his friend to the east wing of the castle.
  
  "I know we have not known each other long but I consider you my friend, Loras. Will you confide in me?" Edric asked looking rather anxious.
  
  "What exactly are you asking?" Loras got even more worried when he noticed where they were headed. "Where in the Seven Hells did Lady Catelyn assign you a room? Next to the servants' quarters?"
  
  "Well, I was an unexpected guest and the royal entourage is extensive. But this location is very much related to the topic I wanted to talk to you about. Do you trust me, Loras?"
  
  "Ask already. You are giving me the creeps. Where are we anyway?"
  
  Edric ignored his last question. He pulled Loras in an alcove out of sight although hardly anyone ventured to this part of the castle especially at this time of day. "What is your actual relationship with Prince Renly? Will you tell me? Were the two of you lovers or did he abuse you?" Edric whispered, his eyes taking in the shifting emotions on Loras' face. His expression had switched from bewilderment to anger and finally to sorrow. Loras had dropped his head.
  
  "Why do you ask this of me? Do you want to torture me?" A single tear escaped Loras' eye and was slowly rolling down his cheek.
  
  "I am just trying to determine if you are still interested enough to know where he is and whether it would help you to witness with your own eyes that he was all right." Edric explained. He had an inkling of what his friend was feeling but needed to be very sure.
  
  Loras lifted his head. Hope flared up in his friend's moist eyes and the words spilled out of him. "I love him. I do. He didn't abuse me. I feel guilty for letting him take the fall. But he ordered me to, arguing he could not deny anything but I could still save myself. He sacrificed himself for me." Tears now flowed freely. Edric waited patiently for Loras to regain a bit of composure.
  
  Finally Loras wiped the tears from his face in a determined way and looked at him. "I thought you had understood as much when you discovered me sobbing at that creek in the Riverlands. Why ask this of me now, when the King is here? Oh, do you think I should petition King Robert to show some leniency toward Prince Renly?" He frowned. "But Lord Stark asked me to keep my distance from the King and keep a low profile during the royal visit."
  
  "Loras, Prince Renly is here. And I mean this literally. He is right here, in a room around the corner. I have already cleared it with Lord Stark. If you want to, we are allowed to visit him."
  
  "Now? This instant?" Loras was glad he had been pushed against the wall. The surprise had turned his legs to jelly and he was not sure he would still be standing upright without the wall supporting him. "Renly is here? Is he okay?"
  
  "I'll let him tell you that himself. If things go well, I will leave the two of you alone halfway through the visit. Just give me a clear signal so I know that both of you are okay with it."
  
  Loras hugged Edric. "I will never forget this, Edric, ever! You can ask any service of me, anytime. I'll even help you get some private time with Sansa if you want."
  
  "That's one hell of a promise Loras. We'll talk about that later. I might have a service to ask of you now that you mention it. As for the lovely lady Sansa, the only service we need to perform for her is to keep her company for now. Come on, wipe these tears of that handsome face of yours and make yourself presentable. There is an unsuspecting Prince close by who will be very pleased to see you. I bet he doesn't even know you are in the North."
  
  That same night long after supper, Eddard Stark joined the three boys who were talking quietly in a corner. After some time when they all agreed to retire, he gestured Loras to stay behind.
  
  Loras instantly realised Lord Stark would bring up his lengthy visit to Prince Renly and hoped Edric had not overstepped. He silently followed Lord Stark to his solar and sat down in the chair Robb's father pointed at.
  
  Lord Stark didn't keep him in suspense and came right to the point. "I wanted to let you know what has been decided concerning Prince Renly's future. I also want to ask you to be circumspect in your visits to him. I give you leave to see him as often as you want as long as you are not discovered. The guards I post at his door are in the know of course. They are some of my most loyal men and will not betray you to the King or anyone else for that matter."
  
  "My Lord, you mean to tell me you do not act on behalf of the King in this matter?" Loras' eyes lingered on the brooch. Renly had explained at length how bad he had been treated in King's Landing. They had starved him, mocked him and hurt him in every way they could get away with. The journey to Winterfell had been hell. Renly had also told him he had overheard his current guards speaking to each other. They had gossiped about the displeasure of the royal guards at his change in circumstances. It had become clear to him that it was on Eddard Stark's personal orders that his treatment had changed for the better. Everyone that dared to mistreat him had been threatened with severe punishment.
  
  Ned sighed. He had seen Loras eying his brooch. Everyone treated him differently now. He hated the damn thing already. "Let this be our little secret Lord Tyrell. One of my first actions as Hand of the King was to resolve Prince Renly's situation. You are perhaps aware that my brother, Benjen Stark is the official liaison between the Night's Watch and the Warden of the North. He often joins the party of the Night's Watch that collects the taxes throughout the realm and escorts new recruits to the Wall and consequently can't always attend to his duties here in the North. It has been decided by royal decree," he gestured to the scroll he was currently working on, "that Prince Renly shall be the emissary of the King at the Wall with special status. At first he will not be allowed to leave the Wall, but that will soon change so he can fulfil his new duties adequately."
  
  Lord Stark looked directly at Loras. "Lord Edric told me of your promise to him. He releases you from it if you give me the same promise you gave my brother Benjen several moons ago. I want you to vow on your honour as a Tyrell not to reveal anything you will discover during your stay at Winterfell."
  
  He saw the boy's eyes widen as he connected the dots. "You know about the three famous knights?" He ventured keeping his voice low.
  
  "Technically you are breaking your vow to my brother right here and now." Lord Stark tried to keep his voice stern but knew he didn't succeed. "I'll give you a free pass for now but realise that someone could bait you in a similar fashion and you would just have revealed something you have sworn not to."
  
  He took pity on the young man who looked stricken. "But to answer your question, yes it is all connected and I know about them. You are still forbidden to inform your family for now. Hopefully things will change soon. We are on the same side, you, me, my brother, Edric, Robb and the three famous knights. I can go on and include everyone you saw in the Riverlands on this list. If you trust Edric, you can trust me as well. And you can rest assured that I will do my utmost to ensure Prince Renly gets his life back as soon as possible. I have seen to it that he is not stripped of his title. For now he is just not allowed to choose where he goes next. He will not have to take the black and swear the oath of the Night's Watch." He had ended this speech once more stressing his part in Prince Renly's improved faith to remind Loras that he owed them so the young Tyrell would vow to stay silent without pressing for further details first.
  
  Loras didn't know what to say at first. His mind was reeling. Edric was involved in some sort of secret dealings with the Starks and his friend wanted him to swear another oath to the Starks? He just thanked Lord Stark on automatic pilot and only swore his vow after being gently reminded he still hadn't done so. He decided to find Robb and Edric as soon as he left here. He would not break his vow if he talked to them. After all, they were all on the same side as Lord Stark had just explained to him. A thought struck his mind. "Is Lady Brienne on this ' same side' as well?" He put an extra emphasis on the term Lord Stark had used. It was clear he did not know what this ' same side' meant yet.
  
  "I hope she will be soon. But leave that to me. Do not talk to her about this yet. You can reassure her on the fate of Prince Renly however. If Prince Renly allows it, she can also visit him. But the same restrictions apply. She has to be covert and not alert the royal entourage that Prince Renly is receiving visitors. That way gossip will be kept to a minimum.
  
  Now I really have to finish writing this royal decree. Just to be clear, there will be no official announcement of Prince Renly's fate in court. News of this will slowly spread around as it always does but hopefully in such a fashion that it will hardly be discussed. Another scandal will take precedence. Good news is never as newsworthy as a shocking piece of gossip."
  
  Loras bowed his head once more in thanks and left the room. He would talk to Robb and Edric some other time. Suddenly it didn't seem that urgent anymore. For the first time in a long time he could look to the future with hope again.
  
  In the meanwhile Lord Stark finished writing up the royal decree. He was glad there had been no music or dancing after supper and everyone had left the common room a bit earlier than the previous nights. He still had time to deal with one more issue tonight. He planned to talk to Cassel and then he could finally retire to his bedchambers. He was lucky Rodrik Cassel was a loyal man. His Master at Arms had come directly to him with his confusing discoveries. It was time to bring him into the conspiracy.
  
  Catelyn Stark was tired. This was the sixth night in a row that she had put on an elaborate feast for the King and his entire entourage. This royal visit proved to be a very expensive one. When she hadbroached the subject with her husband, Ned had told her not to worry. He said he always put money aside for occasions like this. The North had prospered these last few years. He explained that he been able to put aside more for these last few years than his father's yearly contribution to the winter fund the Starks always laid money aside for.
  
  The first day of the King's visit she had been worried to see Ned leave the crypts with the brooch fixed on his breast. The King had only needed a single conversation with Ned to convince her reticent husband. Ned however had reassured her later that night in their bedroom. He had told her he had been able to stall the King regarding the betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa. The rest were details. Catelyn still had mixed feelings about the entire business. There was a silver lining though. She was looking forward to moving to the capital. She had been a generous lover that night. Her husband was Hand of the King! Even if she knew it would not last, every lady at the royal court knew of her newly acquired status. She was the wife of the Hand of the King, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms except for the King. Everyone would treat her accordingly. Catelyn was going to relish every single moment of her newly acquired status.
  
  Today would be an easy day though. Almost every Lord in the royal party had left early this morning. Ned had organised a hunt that would take up the entire day. She would only need to entertain the few ladies of Cersei's court. The men would eat out in the open around a large bonfire tonight. Cersei had excused herself stating that the previous days had tired her out and that she needed a day of bedrest. She had declined all offers of assistance. Her own ladies in waiting would care for her.
  
  Catelyn's tired eyes checked the whereabouts of her children. The weather was pleasant today and they were all outside. Robb of course had joined the hunt, Greywind at his side. She was proud of her son. On several occasions Catelyn had noticed ladies of the court of all ages following her son with their eyes when they saw him walking around the castle with Greywind at his side. She had heard them whispering behind her back that the one who would catch him as a husband would be very lucky. She focused on her search. Sansa was easy to spot. Her beautiful daughter was sitting demurely in the shades reading a book out loud. Tommen and Myrcella sat on the ground facing her and were listening closely. Some other children sat at her feet as well. Apparently Ned had persuaded the royal guard that his houseguard could watch the royal children today so the men could all enjoy the hunt and protect the King and the Crown Prince. Lady Brienne of Tarth was guarding Lady Sansa and enjoying the story she read at the same time.
  
  She spotted Arya playing with a few boys but nothing too wild. They were playing a children's game with pebbles. Rickon was building something with his wooden toys near the bushes in the corner of the yard.
  
  Now she only needed to locate Bran. She looked in every direction but couldn't find him. She scanned the walls of the castle as well. 'Seven hells', she had promised Ned never to let him wander off alone during the royal visit. Somehow Ned had taken a premonition to heart and had ordered her to see to it her children and in particular Bran were never alone. They had to stay together and move around Winterfell accompanied by at least one sibling. She did not believe in premonitions but had thought it would do no harm to indulge him. Besides Ned hadn't relented until she had solemnly promised him she would take care of it.
  
  "Arya, do you know where Bran is? " She asked still looking around.
  
  "He said he wanted to play by the old Tower." Arya looked up to her mother.
  
  "Is nobody with him?" her mother admonished. "You all know of father's edict."
  
  "I'm sorry, Mother but Summer went with him and Nymeria followed in my stead. I am sure he is okay." At her mother's thunderous expression she jumped to her feet. "I'll go to him now, Mother. Do not worry."
  
  Arya ran to the old Tower. She noticed Nymeria and Summer sitting close to the building, both wolves were looking up. She followed their gaze and saw Bran had scaled the walls. He was really high up and was looking at something through the top window of the tower. Suddenly both direwolves started to growl but kept their eyes trained on Bran. She took a few steps to reach the curved wall of the tower and petted Nymeria to get her to calm down. Arya strained her neck to look up at Bran and saw someone else was up there. She immediately recognized the blond head of Jaime Lannister, the Queen's brother that peeked out of the window. Ser Jaime scanned the environment but he failed to notice her, probably because she was standing directly beneath him. She witnessed Ser Jaime putting his hand on Bran's chest. Bran looked down at her clearly frightened. The enormity of the situation suddenly struck her. Arya screamed for all she was worth.
  
  Interlude 15: Our blades are sharp
  
  Roose Bolton was studying his options. How best to use this standard invitation to Winterfell to his advantage? All bannermen of House Stark were cordially invited to attend the royal visit for its entire duration. Not a mention of a betrothal or any response to his other demands. Just a routine summons all vassal Lords had received. Or perhaps not even that, the other messages had probably contained a more cordial ending than just the formal signing of Stark's name and the stately listing of all the coward's titles.
  
  He had been so confident all those years ago when the charismatic Brandon perished and the guileless Silent Wolf became Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Surely this was the power vacuum generations of Boltons had waited for. He had been patient and studied the situation before deciding on a course of action. And that had been a big mistake.
  
  At first it seemed like everything was working out in his favour. Lord Eddard Stark had left King's Landing dismayed by the necessary murder of the royal children. The boneless man didn't understand that you had to eliminate those with a stronger claim. Roose Bolton highly respected Tywin Lannister for the way he had gone about it. He was a man after his own heart. But very predictably the honourable Stark, idiot that he was, had rejected the influence and power King Robert would surely offer his dear friend. He had retreated to the North after traipsing across the continent on a fool's errand. Who risked so much for a useless female? Afterwards he had scrutinised Lord Stark's initial actions as Warden of the North.
  
  He didn't understand why the young Lord spent so much time and money fortifying the borders of his Kingdom and even sponsored the Night's Watch to the extent that his younger brother had no life of his own any longer. Benjen Stark neither married nor started a family. At that time he reasoned House Bolton could profit from strengthened borders when they took over. Even after the Greyjoy Rebellion Lord Stark had not capitalised on his restored relationship with the royal family but had made a true fortress of Winterfell. Roose now suspected him of working towards an independent Northern Kingdom. Could the Silent Wolf be that devious and ambitious? Still Roose had hesitated. He had not yet been able to weaken the loyalty of the northern lords to House Stark. Eddard Stark still had a lot of support in the North. Subtle statements about Stark wasting money for his self-glorification and taking the wrong actions to solve the Wildling problems were mostly falling on deaf ears. Finally he was making progress. He was certain that given a bit more time the Umbers and the Karstarks could be persuaded to support his ambitions, if only his bastard son could mimic a few more cruel Wildling attacks. Nevertheless, it had all been coming together much too slowly for his taste.
  
  And then, out of nowhere, he had gotten the support of an unexpected ally. They offered to help him secure the position of Warden of the North. They had promised to weaken the Warden of the North's position by causing trouble on several fronts at once. They would shame the Lord of Winterfell in sending a small army south to help his good family in the Riverlands and would also encourage the Ironborn to attack the Stony Shore in full force. All he had to do was take some Stark children hostage and force the noble man to step down to save his kin.
  
  Roose Bolton had slightly altered these instructions to incorporate them into his own ambitious plan. He would marry his son into House Stark and once they let their guard down and came with the entire family to the Dreadfort for a visit, he would spring the trap, guest rights be damned. They were Boltons anyway. They had their own customs and he was proud of them. Their sigil was a red flayed man upside-down on an x-shaped white cross over a field of black. Their house words were ' Our Blades Are Sharp ', though he preferred the more common saying ' A naked man has few secrets; a flayed man, none. ' To have real power, people needed to fear you.
  
  He had not dared to share his plans with his son yet. Lately he had begun to doubt the potential of his legitimate heir. Domeric was too damn honourable. Years ago the lad had begged him to be allowed to become a squire to some southern knight. The boy dreamt of becoming an honourable knight. If he didn't know any better he would suspect his wife had lain with a Stark. His bastard Ramsay Snow on the other hand showed promise. It looked like he could be the more worthy successor. If he had recognised that earlier, he could just have switched the boys at birth and nobody would have been the wiser. Well perhaps the boy's mother and his nurse would have known but those two useless snivellers would just have died by his hand a few years sooner.
  
  Ramsay Snow was the real Bolton. He only needed to teach the young man a bit of restraint. At the very least, he should be a bit more discreet about his penchant for cruelty. He was sure Ramsay would have been more enterprising in his endeavours to secure the beautiful Sansa. During their last encounter Domeric had hardly spoken to the girl although Roose had given him strict instructions. Granted, the girl was still fairly young at that time, but opportunities for them to meet were rare. He could at least have invented some heroic tale about a puppy he saved or something to make the mindless girl admire him.
  
  Perhaps he should give Ramsay his permission to deal with Domeric as his bastard had already hinted at more than once. The only thing holding him back was commons sense. With Domeric gone, he would have to make Ramsay an official Bolton. That would mean Roose himself would be the only obstacle standing between Ramsay and the title of ruling Lord of the Dreadfort and he knew all too well how he himself would act if he found himself in a similar position.
  
  Better to try and talk some sense in Domeric once more. The boy had made himself scarce lately. Roose suspected Domeric had already suffered several of Ramsay's cruel jokes if not survived an outright assassination attempt or two. Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Perhaps Domeric was not a lost cause after all. He would just wait and see how the boys dealt with their rivalry.
  
  In the meantime, Ramsay had done all that was ordered of him. Lately he had befriended Theon Greyjoy. Ramsay had staged an accidental meeting at the brothels in Wintertown. Reeling him in had become easier once Robb Stark was away. Ramsay has earned the Kraken's trust and fed into his growing hatred for all things Stark. His bastard son had overstepped however and taken Theon with him on a raiding trip. Roose had had to interfere and send Theon back to Winterfell. For now the Ironborn was useful to them there. He could become Ramsay's plaything soon enough when the Starks were dealt with.
  
  This thought made him feel better. He decided he would accept the invitation and make sure he did not leave Winterfell until he witnessed his heir's marriage under the famous weirwood tree in the Godswood there. He smiled when he imagined the view or the beautiful red haired Sansa wearing a coat with the Bolton's sigil on her shoulders.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter we learn the aftermath of Bran's situation. Jon somehow arrives on the scene.
  
  In the interlude, Lord Reed gets two unexpected visitors, an unprecedented occurrence for the greenseer.
  
  In the Vale Lord Royce faces an impossible task.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A royal visit - part two
  Chapter 16: A royal visit - part two
  
  Summary:
  
  We learn the aftermath of Bran's situation. Jon somehow arrives on the scene.
  
  In the interlude, Lord Reed gets two unexpected visitors, an unprecedented occurrence for the greenseer.
  
  In the Vale Lord Royce faces an impossible task.
  
  Notes:
  
  Warning: minor character death.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Arya ran to the old Tower. She noticed Nymeria and Summer sitting close to the building, both wolves were looking up. She followed their gaze and saw that Bran had scaled the walls. He was really high up and was looking at something through the top window of the tower. Suddenly both direwolves started to growl but kept their eyes trained on Bran. She took a few steps to reach the curved wall of the tower and petted Nymeria to get her to calm down. Arya strained her neck to look up at Bran and noticed someone else was up there. She immediately recognized the blond head of Jaime Lannister, the Queen's brother that peeked out of the window. Ser Jaime scanned the environment but he failed to notice her, probably because she was standing directly beneath him. She witnessed how Ser Jaime put his hand on Bran's chest. Her brother looked down at her clearly frightened. The enormity of the situation suddenly struck her. Arya screamed for all she was worth.
  
  A few servants, who were working close by dropped what they were doing and ran up to Arya. She pointed toward Bran who was now unsteadily descending. The harness attached with rope to the iron climbing hooks had saved him twice already, once when Ser Jaime had pushed him from the window sill and again when his foot had slipped in his first moments of panic. Jaime Lannister's head had disappeared. Her little brother, normally so quick and agile, was crying and shaking. Even though he was using his new tools, he still had trouble coming down.
  
  Rodrik Cassel arrived on the scene quickly followed by Catelyn Stark.
  
  "He pushed Bran!" Arya shouted at her mother while pointing to Bran who was almost halfway down by now. "He pushed Bran, and he would have fallen but then he dangled from Jon's rope and could grab hold of a hook. He would have... ," she had her arms around her mother's waist. "Please help him. Keep him safe." She pleaded. Now that help had arrived, Arya started to shake as well. Nymeria left her position at the base of the tower to nuzzle Arya in an effort to comfort her. Arya petted his pelt in thanks and calmed down somewhat. Summer still hadn't moved a single step, the wolf's eyes never leaving Bran. The direwolf was barking to the rhythm of Bran's movements as if to encourage him to keep going.
  
  One of the first servants on the scene had immediately fetched a few bales of straw. "Do not worry Lady Arya, he is not that high up anymore. And if he falls, the straw will help break his fall."
  
  They all kept a watchful eye on Bran and saw that the boy had somehow calmed down enough to descend slowly but surely.
  
  After assessing that Bran's situation was under control, Rodrik Cassel ran inside the tower. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. Who would want to push Bran? However he did not doubt for a single moment that Arya Stark had seen something. He quickly scaled the stairs.
  
  He wasn't prepared for the sight that met him when he reached the chamber at the top of the tower and opened the old door. Jaime Lannister was there in the middle of the room in his shirt and breeches. ' Didn't the Kingsguard join the hunt? '
  
  Ser Jaime had his arms around his sister who was weeping in his arms. Her hair was dishevelled, her robe was open. He saw clothes lying on the ground. And now that his brain made the connection he smelled it as well, the distinct odour left after a coupling. ' But they were brother and sister, twins even? ' He looked as startled as they did when they spotted him. Cassel didn't say a word but left the room securing the latch on the door from the outside. They wouldn't go anywhere for now. His mind was in turmoil. He realised that this would not end well.
  
  When he came down he noticed a few more servants had gathered. He signalled two Stark houseguards. "Barricade the entrance to the tower and stand guard. Nobody is allowed to leave or enter this building until Lord Stark or I say so. Do not heed anyone else, not even an order from the Kingsguard or from the King himself. You are under orders of the Hand of the King."
  
  He turned to a third Stark guard. "Gawen, take a fast horse and fetch Lord Stark. He should come at once. Just tell him it is a personal family emergency. Try not to disrupt the hunt. Get Lord Stark to come back alone. Make haste man!"
  
  Cassel surveyed the situation in the yard in front of the tower. Bran's harness and rope were lying on the ground and the boy was crying in his mother's arms, with his direwolf glued to his side. He quickly went over to the small group of servants, thanked them for their assistance in getting Bran safely down and sent them on their way, reminding them that Lord Stark appreciated discretion in all matters concerning his family. He was glad he recognised them all and knew they were loyal subjects of House Stark without exception. This was a catastrophe in the making. Best keep it contained as much as possible until Lord Stark decided how to deal with it. He heard Bran trying to speak to his mother and focused his hearing to find out how much the boy had seen and understood.
  
  "They were doing something strange mama, and then," he sniffled, "and then the Queen yelled that I saw them and then..." His sentences were interrupted by his sobbing but the need to tell his mother what had happened to him soon won it from his emotions.
  
  "And then she looked ugly and said that I would tell and then Ser Jaime looked really strange at me and then he came over to the window and then he grabbed my shirt and then..." This time the boy paused a moment to catch his breath. "And then he put his hand flat on my chest and then he said something but I can't remember what and then he pushed me. I was so scared mama. I could hear Arya yell and then I dangled in the air and then I remembered I was wearing the harness. I was so scared mama. I almost couldn't get down. But then Summer calmed me down. I would have fallen if I had not used my new harness." Having gotten everything out that he wanted to say he started to sob again.
  
  Catelyn hugged Bran and tried to comfort him but the sobbing only intensified.
  
  "Will Bran be okay mother?" Arya was pulling at her dress. Her usually so brazen girl still looked really upset. "Why did Ser Jaime push Bran mother? Did he not realise how high up my brother was. He could have died."
  
  "Shhh Arya. Father will take care of everything. And Bran is okay, he is safe now. You see," she pointed at the guards and the locked door, "Ser Jaime Lannister cannot leave the tower. They have locked him inside. Father will keep you all safe. Now I want us all to go inside and gather in my room. And Arya you are not allowed to tell anyone you saw Ser Jaime. Let father decide what he wants to tell or keep a secret."
  
  Rodrik Cassel had joined her now and they exchanged a few meaningful gestures and glances. The man gently took Bran from her and together they hurried toward the castle. Lady Catelyn was the first to enter the courtyard dragging Arya along. Rodrik Cassel was carrying Bran who had his faced buried in the man's chest. She motioned Lady Brienne to follow her with her children and called for Myrcella and Tommen to join them as well.
  
  Rodrik Cassel waited for his Lord enter through the gates reign in his horse. Clearly Lord Stark had raced all the way here. The horse was lathered in sweat. Lord Stark's hair was dishevelled and his eyes were wild with worry.
  
  "What happened, Cassel? Gawen wouldn't say a word. Only that it was a family emergency and that I should make haste."
  
  Cassel looked around and led his Lord to a secluded corner in the courtyard. "Quite a mess, my Lord. Bran scaled the old tower and witnessed Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime coupling when he reached the top window. Jaime Lannister attempted to protect their secret by pushing your son from the tower. Luckily the boy was wearing his climbing harness and didn't fall all the way down. Arya happened to be looking for him and witnessed the whole thing. Her scream alerted enough witnesses to prevent him from making a second attempt to silence the boy forever. I have taken the liberty to lock the Lannister twins in the old Tower for now. I think nobody knows they are there. The Queen is supposed to be on bedrest in her chambers with her handmaids and everyone here presumes the Kingslayer is with the hunting party. Now I can truthfully say I am very glad I was ordered to stay behind to guard your family, My Lord. I have seen to it that all your children, including Tommen and Myrcella are safe inside the castle. I do not think the smallfolk that came running when Arya screamed caught a glimpse of Ser Jaime and I ordered them in your name not to gossip about what happened to Bran. What shall we do now?"
  
  Ned looked really pale and his eyes sought the ill-fated window of the old tower. "They are locked inside and the guards know what to do?"
  
  "Yes, my Lord. Both the door upstairs and the main entrance are barricaded. I have two loyal men standing guard outside." He looked at his Lord expecting further orders.
  
  "You handled that well. The situation out here seems under control. Now I need to talk to my wife and see my children first. Get someone to fetch Brienne of Tarth and Loras Tyrell, neither of them joined the hunt and will be close by. I want to see to them as soon as I have spoken with my wife. Ask Lord Umber to help us later today. He brought enough men and we may need them to help us counter possible revolts of the Kingsguards and the other royal guards when they return and somehow get wind of what happened here. You can explain the entire situation to the Greatjon but ask him to be discreet for now. Tell him I especially requested his help. Do you happen to know where Lord Tyrion Lannister is? He did not join the hunt either. If you find him, keep him away from the old tower by all means. On second thought, as soon as I have time, I will want to speak to him as well. So bring him to my solar. And Cassel, thanks. You have once more proven you are my right hand man. I will not forget this."
  
  Lord Stark didn't wait to see Cassel's reaction and went in search of his wife. She had just left the children in the nursery under the care and supervision of their nanny and had ordered two houseguards to guard the room. She looked relieved to see her husband and followed him to their bedroom.
  
  "What a mess, Catelyn." He exclaimed as soon as the door was firmly closed. "This was not how we planned to expose the royal children. It is way too early. Dammit, why was Bran even up there? Didn't I tell you of the premonition? He was not allowed to climb as long as the King was staying with us." He admonished her with a disapproving scowl on his face. He paused trying to calm his mind. This was not the time for casting the blame. He should focus his energy on finding a solution for now. He took a few deep breaths. When he felt he could be civil once more he continued interrogating his wife.
  
  "Where are Tommen and Myrcella? What do they know about what happened? We need to keep them safe from King Robert's wrath. Best get them to the room with Prince Renly or do you have a better idea?"
  
  Catelyn wrung her hands. "They do not know what happened. They only know Bran almost fell and was really upset about it. I am very sure they have neither heard nor seen anything. We must not scare them. Why not keep them in my quarters? They will be more comfortable here than in that little room with Prince Renly. Nobody will suspect that they are staying in my private quarters. I can sleep in your room tonight."
  
  "That is a possibility. Let me think on that some more. I plan on involving Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell. They can help guard the royal children. They are both honourable to a fault and will want to safeguard these innocent children. If we clearly show them that we are the ones trying to prevent the royal entourage from punishing three innocent children, we are one step closer to assure their alliance to our cause. Unless you think they will not be sympathetic to the plight of exposed royal bastards?"
  
  "Lady Brienne will choose to protect them without a doubt. She has more honour in her little toe than the average knight in his entire body. She will respect you even more for wanting to safeguard Tommen and Myrcella. And Loras Tyrell, well as long as you help Prince Renly, that boy will worship the ground you walk on."
  
  She heard a sound coming from the window and got a bit nervous. "Can I go now and bring the royal children here before someone belonging to the hunting party gets curious about the reason you left and sends a scout? I'll do my best to make them comfortable and keep them away from the gossip."
  
  "Okay, you can bring them here. I will make sure to keep the King as calm as possible. The Gods know how." He left the room and called for Cassel. "Did you find the lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell?" Seeing his master at arms nod he continued. "Ask them to come to my solar. Tell them it is urgent. I also want you to come and get me the moment the King enters the courtyard. No matter what orders the King might issue, you will come here first. Do you understand? See to it that ample guards are posted around the old tower but make them blend into the environment somehow. Do you have enough men to handle all that?"
  
  "Yes my Lord. Consider it done."
  
  Ned took a moment to think about the possible repercussions to Jon and his cause now that probably both Ser Jaime and Prince Renly were headed for the Wall where they all knew by now about the existence of two real life fire breathing dragons. He startled when he heard a knock at the door. He gave permission to enter and invited Lady Brienne of Tarth and Loras Tyrell to sit down.
  
  Loras didn't hesitate and used this opportunity to thank him once more for what he had done for Renly. Ned just acknowledged his words with a nod and addressed both of them.
  
  "Where have you both been today? Have you been outside?" He was astonished to see a blush appear on both their faces.
  
  "We visited Prince Renly just now, my Lord." Lady Brienne replied honestly. "The guard assured me we had your permission and Loras took advantage of the fact that the King didn't allow him to join the hunt and was with him the entire time. I joined him as soon as all the children were safely inside. Please let me express my thanks to you as well."
  
  "You have not heard what exactly happened outside earlier today then?" Ned ignored her thanks, impatient to get to the point and have this issue handled. He still needed to have a long talk with Lord Tyrion before the King returned.
  
  "Lady Brienne told me Bran was upset about some kind of accident but nobody got hurt." Loras Tyrell was quick to answer and Lady Brienne nodded silently a curious look appearingin her eyes now that the strange behaviour of Lady Catelyn earlier took on more importance combined with this strange summons by the Lord of Winterfell.
  
  "Well, something happened and I need your help. I need your word of honour that you will do as I tell you and if somebody else would contradict my orders you will not act upon them until you have taken it up with me first. Not even King Robert can overrule them. Do you understand?"
  
  "You will not ask anything that might bring us dishonour?" Lady Brienne would not sacrifice her integrity.
  
  "Quite the opposite actually. I want to ask you to perform a most honourable task. I need your help to protect the lives of innocent children." He then proceeded to explain exactly what had happened and what he needed them to do."
  
  "Why us, my Lord?"
  
  "Just in case King Robert does not heed my words and tries to harm Cersei's children. He will not suspect you of guarding them. He will follow my houseguards and my family members."
  
  "Why would you believe the King would harm these three children when the culprits are locked up already?"
  
  "He's done it before when he condoned the brutal murder of the Targaryen royal children." Ned couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. He realised he had betrayed himself when he saw their stricken faces.
  
  "My Lord Stark?" Brienne looked perplexed.
  
  "I'm sorry. I am just overcome by the situation. I am the father of five children whom I love dearly. I cannot stand to let a child suffer for things they have no control over. Even if that means I have to disobey my King should he try to harm Queen Cersei's illegitimate children in a first fit of temper." He chastised himself for slipping out of his role.
  
  "Your honour is praised throughout the Seven Kingdoms, my Lord. Now I understand why. I will serve you without question the next time you have a task for me." Lady Brienne solemnly pledged.
  
  ' You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.' Ned repeated the mantra in his head once more. If only Jon could stake his claim already. Ned was getting tired of this mummery.
  
  When the pair left to attend to their new duties, Cassel led Tyrion Lannister to his Lord's solar. He had found the dwarf in Winterfell's library, engrossed in a thick book, a cup filled to the brim with wine and a half empty pitcher next to him.
  
  Ned sighed and steeled himself for a delicate negotiation. "Sit down Lord Tyrion. We have a lot to discuss."
  
  "I'll have his head. I'll have her head. Dammit Ned, Varys told me there were rumours but a man doesn't want to believe something like that. What do I do now? Where do I go from here? I'll be the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  Ned had convinced the King to discuss the situation in the privacy of the chambers Robert had been assigned for the duration of his visit. Before he started to explain the situation to him, he had made sure that the King was comfortably seated on his bed and he had been plying the man with ale the entire time they were talking. It had been dark outside already when the royal party finally returned from the hunt. The King had been in a bad mood because they hadn't shot anything significant after his friend had left them never to return to the hunting party again.
  
  "Do not decide anything hasty, your Grace, Robert I mean. Let's think on this and look at all the options and repercussions. If you want, I will give you my best advice tomorrow when I have had time to look at all the angles." Ned filled the King's cup once more and tried to get him to retire.
  
  "I do not want to lay eyes on the bitch ever again. The whore can burn in hell for all I care and take her incestuous spawn with her. What a mess Ned. Why did Lyanna have to die? I would have had such beautiful black haired children with her. The King was sobbing openly now. Ned had tried to get him so drunk so he would doze off but apparently years of drinking had made the man highly resistant to alcohol. Although the King had drunk an awful lot, he still wasn't intoxicated enough to be rendered unconscious.
  
  "Get some rest your Grace. I will have a solution for you in the morning, one that will not make you a laughingstock. Do not forget you are their King. You control their fate. People will still kneel for you and follow your orders. And nothing will prevent you from taking a new wife and having lots of legitimate heirs. Just let me handle it. I am your Hand. It is my duty."
  
  "What would I do without you, Ned? I am glad you are here with me and not old stern Lord Arryn who would have somehow made me believe that this was all my doing. You should have come to King's Landing to rule beside me years ago. All right, I will listen to you for now and get some rest. My head feels like bursting anyway. And I will hear your proposals tomorrow but mind you, I will make the final decision. You are too soft-hearted sometimes Ned. A ruler must be ruthless at times."
  
  "I'll consider that when I formulate possible solutions, Robert. Now get some rest."
  
  The King finally complied and was asleep almost before his head had touched the furs. Ned contemplated the inert body. Where had it all gone wrong? What had happened to the exuberant child that grew up alongside him at the Eyrie? How could that kind boy have become this lazy corpulent drunk that only cared about his own pleasures and did not give a damn about the lives of his subjects? Robert hadn't even once enquired after the well-being of Benjen Stark or any of the Lords of the North that fought beside him on more than one occasion. This last thought somewhat eased the knot that was prominently present in his stomach since he had accepted the position of Hand of King Robert.
  
  The next morning not many people were present in the Great Hall to break their fast. The Queen had been brought to her chambers late last night and was a virtual prisoner there. They had decided to keep Jaime Lannister locked up in the old tower for now. The King was still sleeping. Lord Stark had barely slept and was already at work. He needed to put everything in place for the contingency plan he had devised with Tyrion Lannister yesterday afternoon.
  
  Lady Brienne was present in the Great Hall, breaking her fast in company of Sansa and Arya. Robb Stark and Edric Dayne sat at the same table facing them. She had excused the absence of Loras Tyrell stating that Lord Eddard Stark had given him an early assignment. Suddenly there was some commotion at the door and Prince Joffrey burst into the room. The two Stark houseguards that had wanted to keep him from entering shot Robb an apologetic look.
  
  "Where is my father?" he shouted. "I need to speak to the King at once on business that cannot be delayed. Where is he?"
  
  Robb slowly rose from his chair and addressed the Prince. "Prince Joffrey, the King has not left his chambers yet. We suppose he will break his fast in his room. The Kingsguard can inform you when he is willing to allow you an audience." Robb was surprised that Prince Joffrey was free to roam the castle. Late Last night his father had come to his room and had told him what had happened. Robb was sure his father had mentioned that the Lannister twins and the royal children were under guard. Perhaps his father had forgotten to assign guards to the former Crown Prince when the latter returned from the hunt.
  
  Prince Joffrey studied everyone seated at the head table with barely concealed disdain. Then he turned around and left without uttering another word.
  
  "Lord Stark, you are needed in the King's chambers at once." Ned looked up to see a distressed Ser Arys Oakheart standing in the doorway of his solar. He immediately rose from is chair and circled his desk. "Gods, Ser Arys, what has happened. Is the King all right?"
  
  "He is, Lord Hand, but in great need of advice. Please follow me." Ser Arys looked really pale and Ned was certain something grave had happened. He surmised he would not learn what it was before he heard it from the King himself. He prayed that Tommen and Myrcella were still safe in his wife's room and hurried after the Kingsguard to the King's quarters.
  
  The first thing his eyes noticed was a body covered by a white cloth on the ground next to the King's bed. The single red stain on the otherwise pristine material was growing larger under his stare. He noticed Ser Meryn was not wearing his white cloak. King Robert was standing at the other side of the room. Two servants were helping him dress as if it was just a normal day. Ned cleared his throat. "Your Grace?"
  
  "Ah Ned, you're here. Now you will see what I mean when I say leniency gets you nowhere. He gestured to the corpse on the ground. That bitch's spawn tried to murder me in my sleep. Show it to him, Ser Meryn."
  
  The knight stepped closer and handed Ned a tiny scroll. It was a message from Cersei. It stated that King Robert was planning to declare her a traitor and would disinherit Joffrey, perhaps even have him murdered. She urged her son to kill the King without delay and claim the throne for himself before his father could give the order.
  
  Ned looked at the body. "This is Prince Joffrey? Is he dead?"
  
  "That was the assassin Joffrey Waters." The King corrected his Hand's statement. "Ser Meryn saved my life by stabbing him in the back. We shouldn't have delayed, Ned. We need to punish the culprits now before the Lannisters revolt. They won't stay ignorant for long now that the twins as well as the Crown Prince will be missing."
  
  Ned instructed the Kingsguard to remove the body from the room. "For now, just put his body in the antechamber. We will bring him to his own room and summon the Maester when we've debated how to handle the situation." Ser Meryn and Ser Arys needed no further encouragement. They lifted the body, keeping it covered with the white cloak.
  
  The King watched with cold emotionless eyes as his wife's bastard was carried away. "What miraculous solution have you come up with to rescue my reputation and punish the culprits?" His voice was icy calm.
  
  "Your Grace, let me start by apologising for not putting sufficient guards on Joffrey Waters. I will find out how he was able to leave his chambers."
  
  The King waved his words away, impatient to hear how his Hand would make this all go away. "Never mind that now, I want to hear your solutions."
  
  Ned took a deep breath and hoped to get his tone just right, not too pleading, but no too commanding either. It would have to be the King's decision.
  
  "First I will tell you the story we will spread throughout the realm and next what I propose what we can really do. Will you try to stay patient enough and listen until I have finished explaining?"
  
  The King stayed silent but his entire demeanour warned Ned he best got on with it.
  
  "We will tell the realm that Prince Joffrey has fallen ill and died. It appears he suffered from the same hereditary affliction as his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister. Since there is a distinct possibility that the Queen's other children also carry the disease, you have discussed this tragic discovery with your wife. For the good of the realm, Queen Cersei has agreed to the immediate annulment of your marriage and the removal of her children from the line of the succession. You will take a new Queen who can bare you several healthy children as soon as the High Septon has granted you an annulment."
  
  Ned had only slightly adapted the story he had devised late last night. He had intended Cersei to be the one inflicted by the imaginary disease. He studied the King and saw him struggle to keep his composure. A myriad of emotions flittered across the man's face. At first the King seemed intrigued but this soon changed to frustration and now he just looked angry.
  
  "Too lenient, Ned. I warned you dammit! Is that all you can come up with?" He frowned.
  
  "This is just the story we will present to the realm, your Grace." Ned tried to stay calm. "That way you will not be known as the King who was cuckolded. It is an acceptable reason to annul your marriage without delay. I suggest we imprison Cersei Lannister on Bear Island. That is the most northern island on the west coast of my Kingdom. You surely recall it is ruled by Lady Mormont. There is no way the former Queen can charm her way out of there. The Mormonts are my most loyal subjects. The island is isolated and cold and very far from the Crownlands. She will be afforded only the barest necessities. It will be a harsh punishment for her, your Grace."
  
  He took a deep breath and addressed the most delicate issue. "I have taken the liberty to discuss the children's fate with Tyrion Lannister yesterday evening. He is prepared to take them with him to Casterly Rock. They relinquish the Baratheon name of course and sign away all rights to the Iron Throne. In exchange for their lives, Lord Tyrion vows he will not allow them to leave the Rock unless a royal decree lifts this banishment. If you agree to this, he will forfeit every loan Tywin Lannister has offered the Crown. He will leave for the Rock as soon as you permit it."
  
  King Robert's frown had only grown deeper while Ned talked. "That story you've woven lets her fucking twin brother of the hook. Unacceptable Ned!"
  
  "You can punish him for treason, your Grace. Pretend you gave him a trial behind closed doors and condemn him to the Wall. A King doesn't need to provide more details. The situation at the Wall is very dire. Every support is welcomed. I know the Lord Commander personally and will ask him not to allow Jaime Lannister any privileges. I will make sure that he is assigned to the rangers and will be on the front lines of every mission beyond the Wall. On the off chance that he survives the next few years, he will lead a very harsh life, your Grace."
  
  "I will think on it, Ned. I still feel they are getting away too easily."
  
  "Not necessarily, Robert. What would you choose if you were Cersei? A quick death or being kept alive against your will isolated in the North, separated from your children and stripped of all power and wealth. She has been pampered all her life. The same goes for Ser Jaime, except he will have the possibility to get himself killed at the first opportunity beyond the Wall if he can't cope with his harsh punishment." Ned did his best to convince his former friend.
  
  "As I said, I will think on it. The removal of the incestuous bastards from the line of succession must be ironclad, Ned. It can't contain any loopholes."
  
  "The moment your marriage is annulled, their claim is null and void. The written statement is only to support our story that they relinquish their right voluntarily. But I will do as you order and present my draft to my maester and have it checked later on by the Grand Maester as well.
  
  I will make sure they will never be the ones to threaten your reign, Robert." Ned silently repeated his mantra once more in his head. If anyone had mentioned to him eighteen years ago how duplicitous he would become, he would have challenged the man to a duel for such an enormous insult.
  
  "I will want to read it as well. That doesn't mean I have decided to accept your solution, mind you. Where are the little bastards now?" Robert's recalcitrant tone interrupted Ned's musings.
  
  "Tommen and Myrcella are safe and in the custody of Lord Tyrion. I will not apologise for taking steps to protect them, Robert. You knew my feelings regarding a similar situation and made me your Hand regardless. If you were thinking this favour you've shown me would change my disposition toward innocent children and are disappointed that this is not the case, I am willing to resign as your Hand this instant. Tommen and Myrcella are not to blame for anything. I will not let any harm come to them if I can help it." He kept his voice firm so Robert would understand that there was no chance he would ever relent. He was glad he had finished the last travel arrangements before he had been summoned by Robert. At the slightest hint of danger, Lord Tyrion was ready to abscond with his niece and nephew.
  
  "You did not answer my question, Ned. Where are they?" The King tried once more.
  
  "Safe for now, your Grace. They will not show their faces and are under guard. I will not tell you more. As soon as Lord Tyrion has signed the necessary papers they will disappear from Winterfell without anyone noticing. With your leave, I will ask Lord Tyrion to take the body of his deceased nephew with him. Let it be his responsibility to dispose of the body in any way he wants."
  
  "What a bloody mess." The King sighed and let the subject drop for now. "The situation at the Wall is dire, you say? How is that possible? The reports I read only mention more recruits and plenty of funds for reinforcements."
  
  "They also mention the Wildlings are settling closer to the Wall and number over a hundred thousand strong. Not to mention the fact that rangers of the Night's Watch keep disappearing."
  
  King Robert hardly let him finish his last sentence. He was eager to discuss a new topic. "Who can I marry? Do you have any candidates lined up? I will enjoy making new heirs." The glee was apparent on his face. Ned hid his disgust and hoped Jon would make his move before the King had the time to remarry.
  
  "Once the realm hears of your annulment you will be the most eligible bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms once again, Robert. Offers for betrothals will abound. It would be wise to wait and to see what they will offer you in exchange. You could gain a beautiful young wife and an exorbitant dowry in one fell swoop. I'll draft you an initial list of candidates soon. But bear in mind that I could overlook someone important. I fear I do not know every candidate in the South and would put too many northern ladies on it. So I repeat my advice to give the noble houses of Westeros a chance to dangle their most beautiful maidens and dowries in front of you. It would be unseemly to publicly search for a wife before the annulment is granted anyway."
  
  "And the Lannisters will not call in their loans?" King Robert was now focusing on the advantages of his current predicament.
  
  "I have Lord Tyrion's word of honour and also his signature as head of House Lannister." Ned promised. It looked more and more likely that Lord Tyrion wouldn't have to steal away like a thief in the night and that the children would remain safe.
  
  Their conversation was interrupted by an urgent knock. Ned walked to the door to check who dared to go against standing orders of the King and disturb them.
  
  "Lord Hand, Winterfell's Master at Arms informs us of the imminent arrival of Lord Willas of House Tyrell." Ser Arys informed him
  
  "He comes for his brother, Loras," Ned stated the obvious to King Robert as soon as he closed the door. "What will you decide, my King? I would prefer to keep Loras in the North for now. That gives you leverage against lady Olenna. Surely you know from past experiences you need every advantage to keep her from dictating the way you should run the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  Ned was at a loss. How could he prevent the King from offering for Lady Margaery? That would most certainly harm Jon's cause substantially. They had been so sure that they were on the brink of bringing the Reach into the fold.
  
  "I hate to refuse him in open Court. What a mess, Ned. Can you deal with it?" Robert Baratheon looked up trusting his new Hand to make this issue go away as well.
  
  "I will simply prevent him from petitioning you in open Court. I'll see to it, Robert. I will promise to hear him out in private and intimidate him by stating that ambushing you before the Court will only force your hand since you are still doubting his innocence."
  
  "Handle it, Ned. And then prepare everything for our journey back to King's Landing. I won't stay here a day longer than absolutely necessary.
  
  "I can make arrangements to travel to White Harbour and sail to King's Landing from there, your Grace. That will shorten the journey substantially and make it more comfortable for you at the same time. You will not be slowed down by a big wheelhouse this time. We'll use it to convey Cersei north."
  
  "That's the first idea I really like, Ned. How soon can we leave?
  
  "The day after tomorrow. I need to get a ship commissioned and fitted out to cater to a royal entourage." He watched King Robert relax.
  
  "That sounds reasonable. You will send me some female company to help me endure my last two nights in the North?"
  
  "I'll delegate that responsibility to your servants, your Grace but will be sure to point them to the right establishment. If I may be excused? I have a lot of arrangements to make." Ned bowed and left the room in a hurry.
  
  Lord Willas Tyrell received a warm welcome from the lady of Winterfell. She presented her children to him and Willas couldn't miss her calculating eyes studying his reaction to her eldest daughter. Sansa was a beauty but still so young. He remembered his grandmother's wishes and gallantly greeted her by kissing her hand. Her reaction seemed a bit off though. Now that he thought on it, the children all seemed pale and silent. Well his grandmother had warned him it was dreary in the North.
  
  He accepted Robb Stark's proposal to look for his brother in the training yard and listened to Robb Stark telling him what a great friend his brother had become. Loras was indeed at the training yard. He was sparring with someone whose looks betrayed that he was not a northerner. He guessed it was someone from the royal entourage.
  
  Loras greeted him warmly but expressed his surprise at his brother's arrival. Then he introduced his brother to Edric Dayne the heir of Starfall. It astounded Willas that his brother had not only developed a close friendship to the heir of Winterfell but also to a Dayne. He wondered how his grandmother would receive this news.
  
  After the obligatory courtesies were exchanged, he quickly excused himself and his brother to Robb Stark and took Loras to a remote spot where they could talk in private. Loras gave him a brief summary of the events of the day before. His brother had gotten pale and inquired after the fate of the two remaining children of Cersei Lannister.
  
  Loras remembering that Willas once had a crush on Myrcella reassured his brother immediately. "Lord Eddard Stark is looking out for them, Willas. You can trust his honour. If necessary, so he told me personally, he will go against his King's orders. He cannot condone the suffering of innocent children. However he could do nothing to prevent the King from stripping Tommen and Myrcella of their titles and their place in the succession. The King will proclaim them illegitimate as soon as the royal marriage is annulled by the High Septon. He trusts me not to spread this story, so please keep this to yourself. They have fabricated some nonsense about a hereditary affliction."
  
  Willas immediately realised the repercussions. "Grandmother will surely" A small smile broke on Loras' face when he joined his voice to his brother's and they finished the sentence together. "want King Robert to marry our sister."
  
  His mood sobered however when he heard his brother had travelled all this way because Grandmother had ordered Willas to fetch him home. Loras had no intention of leaving Renly behind. He grew nervous and informed his brother in a halting manner of Prince Renly's presence at Winterfell.
  
  Willas expressed his empathy for his brother's plight but urged him to be cautious all the same. Now he understood why Loras seemed so a happy at Winterfell as well as the friendships he had developed here. He only wondered how his brother would convince their grandmother to let him stay in the North. Lady Olenna wanted him home sooner rather than later. Willas decided he would hold off on writing home for another day. He needed to gather more information on the ambitions of House Stark before he let her overreact to the news of King Robert's search for a new Queen.
  
  No wonder Lady Sansa and her siblings had hardly reacted to his presence earlier. Their brother had nearly been murdered yesterday.
  
  The last evening of the royal party's stay at Winterfell a modest feast had been organised. The Lannisters were noticeably absent. Lord Tyrion had already left with Myrcella and Tommen. They would make the long trip to Casterly Rock over land and were accompanied by the entire Lannister retinue that had formerly been a part or the royal entourage. Eddard Stark had promised Robert to replace these men with Stark guards. He didn't betray to King Robert how he had taken every precaution to assure that Tyrion Lannister would be granted safe passage through the Neck and the Riverlands by giving him a small northern escort to ease their way through the northern villages. He also didn't tell him of all the other things he had discussed with Lord Tyrion to make him compliant enough to sign anything he had put before him.
  
  The Queen's wheelhouse had left Winterfell in the middle of the night. Lord Umber had offered to escort Cersei Lannister to Bear Island. The Greatjon had split up his men. The other half would accompany Jaime Lannister and Renly Baratheon to the Wall. Earlier today Eddard Stark had sent a raven to the Lord Commander with detailed instructions. In the end the King had decided to follow his Hand's advice without any further protestations. The man was already considering every fair maiden he knew of and was glad enough to leave the sordid details to his Hand.
  
  Maester Luwin entered the great hall and whispered something in Lord's ear. Ned excused himself to the King stating a problem had arisen and needed his immediate attention. He would probably not return until much later but he needed to leave now in order to ensure nothing disturbed their departure on the morrow. He softened the blow substantially by reminding Robert of the two female companions that were awaiting him in his room as soon as his Grace was ready to retire.
  
  "What could possibly be so urgent that you asked me to leave King Robert for the rest of the evening? Not another royal scandal I hope?" Lord Stark asked as soon as they entered the corridor. He eyed his Maester with exasperation.
  
  "My Lord, a raven landed on my shoulder." A significant look accompanied his words and a tiny scroll was handed to Eddard Stark."
  
  Ned startled. "Jon is here? Why would he take such a risk knowing Robert is at Winterfell? Where? How? The message states ' take a horse and follow the raven', my Lord. You should leave now and go alone. I am sure it is not a trap. Who else but Jon could deliver a message in such a peculiar fashion?"
  
  "I'll leave immediately." Ned accepted the cloak Maester Luwin handed him.
  
  "I took the liberty of sending someone to fetch your horse for you. I'll inform your lady wife and Lord Robb as well as soon as you are gone, my Lord." The man bowed and went back to the Great Hall.
  
  Ned followed the raven and was glad that the bird flew along a familiar path that circled around the exterior walls of the Godswood. It was getting rather dark and the clouds prevented the moon and the stars from providing extra light.
  
  Soon enough he saw Jon sitting against a tree. He scanned the environment but saw nobody else.
  
  Jon got up when he dismounted and he was surprised to see his nephew's imposing posture. He remembered Robb mentioning the same to him. Well it fit with the impression his last letters had given him of the youth's newly developed authority. His nephew was growing into a strong leader and started to look the part as well. He didn't hesitate and hugged him. Ned was relieved to feel the young man returned his hug with alacrity. Apparently things hadn't changed that much.
  
  "Good to see you, Jon. Oh Gods, look at you. I am so proud of you. But why did you come here? Did anyone see you?"
  
  "Do you know how fast I can get here on the back of my dragon?" Jon replied a smile on his face. "It was a cloudy night, Uncle. We flew above the clouds the entire way and only ventured below them to land here behind the Godswood. Nobody noticed a thing."
  
  "I am glad to hear it. I was sorry to hear about Maester Aemon."
  
  Jon swallowed but didn't offer any comment.
  
  "Why did you come however?" Ned repeated his earlier question.
  
  "I was at the Wall when your raven arrived, describing Bran's attempted murder. The early discovery of the royal bastards can have severe repercussions. A lot has happened after Robb left me at Sea Dragon Point at our end as well and we've had to make some difficult decisions. Since I was such an easy distance from Winterfell, I concluded it would be easier if we could talk face to face. What's more, Lord Reed urged me speak to you. He had another premonition. If we can bounce ideas of each other, we will accomplish more than sennights of exchanging messages ever could. Davos and I even fabricated a little list in order not to forget anything. Jon took out a tiny scroll.
  
  "Don't you have a Hand to discuss all of that with?" Ned couldn't prevent the remark from slipping out.
  
  Jon studied his uncle and exhaled deeply before responding. "Davos is always at my side, Uncle. You and I are in contact as much as we can but it often takes too long for your advice to reach me to still be timely or relevant when it arrives. I hope I do not need to repeat how much I appreciate all that you have done for me and how I look up to you as an example of a good leader." Jon swallowed and continued. "I have taken the trouble to fly here to talk things over with you. Doesn't that prove anything?" He scrutinized his uncle who although clearly moved by his nephew's words stayed silent all the same.
  
  Jon made another effort to sway him. "Didn't you read my letter? I wrote that if at any given time you decide you want to become my Hand and live by my side in King's Landing, I will name you my Hand as well and will become known as the King who ruled with the assistance of two of the best Hands in the entire history of Westeros."
  
  "I am sorry." Lord Stark didn't stall his answer any longer. "You were absolutely right in appointing Davos Seaworth and I am honoured you came all the way here to seek my advice."
  
  Clearly relieved, Jon asked his uncle to give a detailed account of the aftermath of Bran's climb. He paled when he heard of the violent death of the former Crown Prince. He didn't have time however to examine how he felt about that now. They needed to discuss the repercussions the presence of Jaime Lannister and Renly Baratheon at the Wall would have on their plans. When they had exhausted that subject Jon remarked with wry humour. "It will become crowded at the Wall. Did you know Prince Oberyn is on his way there as well?"
  
  His face turned serious once more when he continued. "I was thinking of asking Prince Oberyn to return to Dorne. That or have him come up with another way to bring his brother into the fold. That last stunt of Prince Doran Martell, sending Prince Quentin Martell to Pentos doesn't sit well with me. Besides, it is time, Uncle. We are making our move on Dragonstone." He then told his uncle most of what had happened since Robb had left them. Uncle Benjen sends his greetings but you should have received a raven from him already.
  
  Jon also elaborated on his temporary solution for the Free Folk without revealing anything about his turbulent stay at Castle Black. "I do not have the authority and we gather it is too early to convince the Lords of the North to offer the Free Folk sanctuary south of the Wall until the White Walker threat has been dealt with. I have ordered a large part of the fleets stationed at Bear Island and Skagos to sail beyond the Wall. They can harbour the woman, children and everyone too weak to fight for a while." He looked at his uncle. "I took these decision mere moments after seeing their predicament. I decided I could not wait to hear your opinion on the matter. I figured time was of the essence. The ships are already on their way. I contacted Lord Manderly directly. I hope you will understand."
  
  "I think it is an excellent solution." Ned reassured his nephew. "I pray that one day we can get the Free Folk and the Northerners to live together in peace but you are right. It is much too soon and you will need the Lords of the North on your side. Forcing them to accept Wildlings on their territory would have alienated them. I do not think I would have come up with that alternative as fast as you have." He saw Jon's face lose its apprehensive expression at the unexpected compliment.
  
  "What can you tell me about Lord Reed's premonition?" Ned had been waiting for that to come up the entire time.
  
  "What do you know of the situation at the Vale?" Jon reacted with a question of his own.
  
  "Funny you should mention the Vale." But his serious slightly guilty expression belied the lightness of his words. Ned proceeded to tell him of his wife's correspondence with Littlefinger and the news he had inadvertently learned. "Littlefinger intends to become Lord of the Vale and even plans to make Lord Robin the next heir to the iron throne by marrying him to Shireen Baratheon. That way he will become Lord Regent." He then informed Jon of his letters to Lord Royce and the man's efforts to try and bring Robin Arryn under his protection.
  
  Jon looked thoughtful. He had not missed the unspoken question of his uncle. He astonished him however with his part of the news. "Littlefinger has almost instigated a war with Dorne by providing false information to the small council. King Robert has insulted Prince Doran and only Prince Oberyn's timely intervention has defused the situation. Littlefinger believed rumours Varys and Oberyn successfully sabotaged as they set Baelish up for the fall."
  
  "What false rumours?" This was news to Ned.
  
  "That the dragon that presumably attacked pirates over the Narrow Sea belongs to Dorne and the attack was a test run before they would target King's Landing to revenge the death of Elia Martell and her children. But that is not all. Lord Reed knows that it was Lysa Arryn that killed her husband with poison handed to her by Littlefinger. He is not sure but he suspects that Lord Robin Arryn is actually Baelish's bastard."
  
  "Poison? Do you know which one?" Ned asked
  
  "Tears of Lys."
  
  "Do you have any evidence to support this accusation?"
  
  "Prince Oberyn has described the exact symptoms and they match Lord Arryn's ailments. Varys has gotten Maester Pycelle to confess a bottle went missing after a visit of Petyr Baelish but he hadn't connected the dots before. It is time he retired." Jon sighed. If the Citadel insists that a Maester's position is for life, they should at least instate a new rule that after a certain age, they send a young Maester to assist him at first so he can slowly take over when his older colleagues is no longer capable. I am sorry. I have gotten off track. I think we have sufficient proof to condemn Littlefinger. Add that to the other indictments you already collected."
  
  'It will be my first order of business when I arrive at King's Landing as Hand of the King. I will also be proclaiming Lord Royce as regent of the Vale until the time Lord Robin comes of age or you decide otherwise when you are King. I hope that meets with your approval."
  
  "It is the right thing to do. What about the Freys in the Riverlands? Do you think that situation will resolve itself by eliminating Littlefinger?"
  
  "I'm not sure. Who knows whether he is the only mastermind of this situation? I will be grilling the small council at the first opportunity. For now I have sent a small contingency of men to the Riverlands. I hope that will send the message to the Freys that the Tullys are not without support."
  
  "I hope Robb has told you about the offer I got from Yara Greyjoy." Jon proceeded to tell his uncle the details about their tentative alliance and the fact that Euron Greyjoy would be attacking somewhere south. "I have warned the Reach and Oldtown." He concluded.
  
  "Talking about the Reach," Ned said. "I fear lady Olenna will no longer be persuaded to join your cause. She will surely try to marry her granddaughter to King Robert."
  
  Jon was silent for a while. Ned could almost see the wheels in his head turning. "What if we gambled a bit? You told me Willas Tyrell is also at Winterfell. You have the future of her house right there. I suggest we tell inform him about the three surviving Kingsguards of House Targaryen who are fostering a male heir with dragons.. We tell him what you did for Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell and the former royal children. We conclude by proposing a marriage alliance between your houses as further enticement and my assurance they can stay on as ruling house of the Reach." Ned saw him look in the distance before continuing. "What if we talked to Loras as well?"
  
  "While you're at it, why not invite lady Brienne to your coming out party?" Ned said taken aback by the risky approach.
  
  "Actually, that is not a bad idea." Jon replied, "Although not simultaneously. I think I can get her on board easily if we have the support of both Tyrell brothers. In the event that Willas and Loras take King Robert's side, well, they are at Winterfell and completely in your power.
  
  Just Imagine Uncle, if this succeeds, I can almost walk up the stairs of the Red Keep and seat myself on the iron throne without encountering any opposition."
  
  "You forget King Robert and his Court, Stannis Baratheon and all the bannermen of the Stormlands, The Westerlands with the Lannisters, The Ironborn. And the Reach can still turn around and betray our secrets, or plan to blackmail this male Targaryen into marrying Lady Margaery Tyrell."
  
  "I said almost, Uncle. The Lannisters will pose no problem. One good talk with Tyrion Lannister and he will stay neutral perhaps he might even be persuaded to support us. Stannis will stand alone. I do not see him align himself with the Ironborn. Did you know that Lord Reed has found a possible weakness? Allegedly, Lord Stannis has started to worship the Lord of Light. Lord Reed is sending someone his way to see if we can use this knowledge to our advantage. He will keep us informed as soon as they have made significant progress. I just think he enjoys being this mysterious greenseer. But I can't fault him for that. He has helped our cause tremendously. As far as the Lady Olenna is concerned, she does not need to know that the male heir of House Targaryen is still single."
  
  Jon stopped his discourse to debate the issue of the Tyrells once more. "On second thought, I do not like to gamble with the Tyrells. They are loyal only to themselves. But could we not compromise. We could slowly try to get Lord Willas on board. Drop little hints and see how he reacts before we proceed any further."
  
  Ned looked perplexed but Jon just continued. "The timing is tricky however. The royal party leaves Winterfell on the morrow." Jon finally noticed his uncle's expression. "What?"
  
  "Do you always change your mind that quickly on important decisions like this? I do not know how to respond." His uncle hesitated to say more.
  
  "Uncle, I haven't made up my mind yet on how to deal with the Tyrells. This is the way I usually work through my issues. I think aloud with my advisers listening and commenting. Sam calls it brainstorming. We bounce ideas of each other and only reach a final conclusion after we have looked at all angles. Davos often takes on the role of spoilsport and opposes or challenges every detail of my plans. That way we find the weak spots and adjust our strategy or come up with entirely new plans."
  
  "So help an old relative out then. One who is not familiar with your strange ways of developing strategies. Did we already reach a conclusion or are we still racking our brains? How in the Gods' names do Davos and Ser Gerold keep up with you?" Ned complained but his eyes twinkled.
  
  "Would you agree to let Robb bait Lord Willas a bit? See how he reacts to the rumours of dragons and the possibility of Targaryens returning? You cannot do it yourself since you are leaving on the morrow. It also gives us the possibility to deny everything should the Tyrell heir react badly at the first few hints. You as Warden of the North and Hand of the King could still laugh it all away claiming that your son has a vivid imagination and does not speak for House Stark yet."
  
  "I'll speak to Robb and see how he feels about it." Ned was glad his nephew had decided on a more subtle approach and had not insisted on going through with his his initial risky idea.
  
  "You know," Jon continued unaware he was stepping into a hornet's nest, "there is another solution. If you get Lady Olenna to sign off on a betrothal between Robb and lady Margaery, she would no longer have the option to catch King Robert as a bridegroom."
  
  "I have already opened up negotiations with Lord Manderly. His granddaughter Lady Wylla and Robb are friends and Lord Manderly has supported your cause almost from the beginning." Lord Stark had stiffened slightly and watched Jon's reaction closely.
  
  "Strange," Jon replied deep in thought. "Robb has not mentioned that to me. How does he feel about it?"
  
  "He stalls," Ned couldn't keep the truth from his nephew. Robb had probably already sent a message to Jon's entourage.
  
  Now it was Jon's turn to study his uncle. "I would understand your desire to arrange this betrothal if Robb really liked the girl. House Manderly is a rich and loyal House. Politically speaking though, it is not the best marriage. So if Robb stalls because he is not partial to the girl, why not be more ambitious and try for the beautiful unwed daughter of the lord Paramount of the Reach."
  
  "He only stated we needed your approval and that you might have other prospects in mind. He named several, Lady Margaery being one of them. Have you discussed this with him?"
  
  "We spoke of the fact that you swore allegiance to me and that I might have some influence on the decision if ever he was forced to marry an ugly fat woman of House Frey. Nothing more specific was discussed. I am not sure what to say to you here, Uncle." Jon seemed hesitant.
  
  "Let's table it for now then. I'll stall Lord Manderly." Ned relented. "But think on it. It is a good proposal."
  
  "Do you mind if I speak to Robb about this? I would like to hear his thoughts on both proposals. He knows he will have to marry for political reasons, but since he is the one that will be living with the girl for the rest of his live, I would like to hear his opinion on the subject before you and I make a decision. It will have to be by letter though. I need to concentrate on the threat beyond the Wall first."
  
  "I can get Robb here in no time, Jon. I would really like to resolve this matter with Lord Manderly." Ned tried once more.
  
  "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing Robb. Jon face lit up at the thought of seeing his cousin but his smile lasted only an instant. He wouldn't do to give his uncle false hope. "Bear in mind that I can't promise you that I can make such an important decision tonight, Uncle. Besides, Robb has not reached his eighteenth nameday yet. You do not have to marry him off right away. I would prefer to focus on the situation at the Wall first. I just brought up his possible betrothal to help keep Lady Olenna's ambitions away from King Robert."
  
  "I understand, Jon. I only wish things could be different. I hate this mummery. I will be glad when everything is out in the open and I can be honest and straightforward again. I feel guilty every time King Robert praises me for being such a good friend. I had hoped that now that you are using the dragons and rumours have started, that it wouldn't be long before you made your move and I could stop lying to everyone. You can't expect me to be happy about your decision of changing your focus to situation at the Wall when we are so close to starting your bid for the throne."
  
  Jon realised his uncle was tired and knew by personal experience that problems always seemed larger when you were exhausted. "I am sorry, Uncle. I know you have by far the most difficult role and that it asks a lot of your mental strength. Once everything is resolved I will stress to everyone in Westeros how nobly you saved the life of the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Your honour will be loudly praised. Do not forget, history books are written by the victors. We will not allow King Robert or anyone else for that matter to smear your good name. I have even come up with a reward for you and the North." Jon proceeded to tell his uncle how he saw the North's role in this new world he would be creating.
  
  Ned was speechless. He just stared at the sky and contemplated the unexpected path this one decision he had made seventeen year ago had taken him on and tried to imagine what was still to come. When he felt Jon shift beside him he came back to the present. He told Jon he was going to fetch Robb and would be back in not time.
  
  Jon stalled him however. "I still have a few things I would like to go over with you. But first, can you assure me you will heed Lord Reed's other warning and not take your children to King's Landing?" Jon asked his uncle.
  
  Ned assured him he was leaving them all behind and added that his wife had given him a lot of grief over it these last few days. Then he encouraged Jon to get on with his next topic.
  
  "I can't help but think we should exploit the fact that I am helping the North out at the Wall to gain the recognition of the Lords of the North. The people at the Stony Shore have seen me in action and I am fairly certain they will support my claim if I ask for their help with your backing. Is there a possibility you could send representatives of the more important Northern Houses to the Wall to bear witness to what is really happening there? Only if they believe there really is a White Walker threat, will they be able to fully appreciate the lengths we all went through to protect the people of the North and the rest of the realm."
  
  "I'll talk to them, or let Robb talk to them if I do not find the time before we depart on the morrow." Ned sighed. "Is that it?"
  
  "I had thought to tell you in detail how we are planning to invade Dragonstone but I can also send you the report."
  
  "Just give me a quick summary, mention only the things that weren't mentioned in your last scroll."
  
  Jon spoke quickly and Ned was glad that this one was a well thought out plan and would be carried out with minor upheaval. Finally Ned got up to fetch his son. It was getting rather late. He knew his wife would be growing anxious.
  
  Lord Stark returned swiftly with Robb and allowed them some privacy. He saw both cousins embrace each other. It was evident they enjoyed a close bond. Jon and Robb sat down with their backs turned to Ned. Suddenly Greywind stormed onto the scene and toppled Jon. The young man just laughed and hugged the wolf talking softly to him. When Greywind had calmed down and settled himself at Robb's feet, the boys resumed their talk. Ned waited patiently until they stood up and walked over to him. He met them halfway. It was Jon who broke the silence.
  
  "No betrothal to House Manderly yet, Uncle. Let's first wait and see what can be done to bring the Reach into the fold. There are other possibilities. Perhaps Lord Willas will offer for Sansa? We need to know more before you commit your heir. He is our biggest trump card."
  
  "No Jon," his uncle replied the disappointment evident in his tone of voice. "You are. You do realise you risk becoming Lady Olenna's prime target."
  
  "Then I will stall her as well." Jon kept his voice firm. "Things will move fast. Just stall Lord Manderly a few moons". He looked towards the clouded sky. "I hate to part from you with this awkward feeling lingering between us, Uncle." Jon felt his uncle's disappointment keenly."
  
  Ned made an effort and smiled. Jon was right. They should part on a better note. A pack had only one leader and needed to rally behind him if they were to succeed. He knew just the thing to lift everyone's spirit. "Anyone here wants to hear about the origin of our inexhaustible war fund?"
  
  "Are you finally ready to tell us, Uncle?" Jon replied fully conscious of the effort Lord Stark was making. He returned his smile and lightly touched his uncle's arm to convey a silent thank you.
  
  Ned's smile grew more mysterious when he replied. "Only if you boys can keep a secret." A bit later he enjoyed their looks of utter unbelief.
  
  When his uncle started to take his leave Jon stalled him once more. Uncle, Robb just relayed something to me that Bran told him in confidence yesterday. It seems his direwolf helped him descend the Wall of the old tower safely. Bran described to his elder brother how Summer had talked to him in his mind. He claimed his wolf had calmed him down and had encouraged him step by step. You should talk to him since I can't do it myself. There have been more instances where he and his wolf connected. Let Robb tell you the particulars. Perhaps you should consider fostering him out to Lord Reed for a few years. With the right tutoring Bran could become a powerful warg."
  
  Ned promised to take that in consideration. Then all three agreed that it was high time that Ned and Robb returned to their guest. Jon hugged Robb first and then turned to his uncle who initiated their embrace. "Thank you Uncle, for everything." Ned felt his nephew's words came from the bottom of his heart. He tightened the hug a bit accentuating their restored bond.
  
  "Stay safe," Ned said, reluctantly ending the hug.
  
  "You as well, Uncle." Jon took a few steps back, closed his eyes and called for Rhaegal. "Best keep your distance,' he warned them. "And Robb, do keep Greywind in check."
  
  Ned would never forget the awe inspiring sight of Jon mounting Rhaegal and how gracefully both dragons ascended the sky to disappear from his sight only moments later when they reached the clouds. He often summoned this memory when he felt guilty during the journey south in the company of King Robert. It would only be when he reached King's Landing and heard the rumours floating around, that he realised that Jon had not flown off in the direction of the Wall but had taken his dragons south.
  
  Loras had said a tearful goodbye to Lord Renly. For all they knew, it could be several years before Renly would be allowed to leave the Wall. Robb urged him to keep faith, reminding him that his father was working on a solution. As Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark had the power to change things for the better in the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks had been nothing but amazing these past few days.
  
  Earlier when Robb had informed him that Lord Tyrion Lannister was about to leave, they had both petitioned Robb's father to allow Prince Renly to say goodbye to the children he had loved as Niece and Nephew all these years. Lord Stark had immediately arranged for Tommen and Myrcella to pay a short visit to Renly's room. Loras had seen to it that Willas happened to be calling on Prince Renly at the exact same time. His brother had not wasted the opportunity and had pressed a small scroll in Myrcella's hand when he wished her a safe journey. The pale teary eyed girl's cheeks had flushed with colour. She had quietly accepted the scroll and concealed it in her sleeves.
  
  Willas Tyrell had decided to stay on at Winterfell for a while longer since Loras refused to leave the North. Two sennights later, Willas cornered his brother in his room where Loras was changing his outfit before supper.
  
  "I know you consider Robb Stark a friend but I am growing more suspicious of House Stark's hidden motives." When his brother darted him an astonished glance he tried to explain the reasons for his mistrust.
  
  "It started the very day King Robert left. Do you recall how after supper he invited us to stay a little while longer and ordered more wine? The conversation started innocently enough but then he alluded to the lucrative trade deals between our regions the North had instigated. Over the next few days he dropped more hints. He mentioned the gardening techniques the North had shared with us that had increased productivity in the Reach, the recent warning of a possible Ironborn attack and some less important things."
  
  Loras had finished fastening the buttons of his tunic and lifted his head, his eyes silently mocking his brother.
  
  "Try and think for once, Loras. I have replayed every conversation in my head and have not found a single encounter without the heir of Winterfell trying to point out how much the Reach needs the North."
  
  Loras smile reached his eyes now. "Robb Stark is a good friend and House Stark is trustworthy, Willas. I am well aware that Robb Stark has a hidden agenda although he is not very good at hiding it from me."
  
  "If that is your way of reassuring me," Frustration radiated from the elder Tyrell. He saw his brother's smile grow even wider.
  
  "Relax, Willas. When you are not around, Robb can't stop asking questions about Margaery. He wants me to describe her looks, her personality and asks why she is not betrothed yet. It is rather obvious that Robb Stark has set his sights on our sister." When he noticed his brother was not convinced he continued. "Willas, the Starks have helped me and Renly any way they could. Myrcella and Tommen owe their present comfort to Lord Stark, if not their lives. There is more at play here than you know." Loras avoided eye contact with his brother now. He had a faraway look that made Willas even more worried.
  
  Willas knitted his brows. "Loras, whatever do you mean?"
  
  "I am sorry, brother. I vowed on my honour as a Tyrell not to reveal anything I discovered during my stay at Winterfell or during the trip across the Riverlands."
  
  Willas scrutinized his brother who just glared back not giving an inch. "Loras what have you done now? What have you vowed exactly?"
  
  "Not nearly as much as I swore to Edric Dayne after he found out where Renly was being kept and obtained Lord Stark's permission for me to visit him as much as I wanted. I believe I literally promised him he could ask any service of me, anytime."
  
  "You do realise they can ask you to murder the King and you would be honour bound to do it?"
  
  "Edric is my friend, Robb is my friend and Lord Stark literally told me we are all on the same side. I figure I can reveal you that much at least. Besides, my vow to Lord Stark released me from my vow to Edric Dayne sort of." Loras crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Willas realised he would not get more out of his younger sibling for now.
  
  "Just do not tell Grandmother any of this, Loras. She will not rest until you have told her every tiny discovery you have made since leaving King's Landing. I am not happy about any of this but I will not force you to break a vow. That doesn't mean that I will not try to find out what is going on by keeping my eyes and ears open."
  
  "I wish you luck, brother. But keep in mind that the Starks are not the enemy. If there is one thing I am sure of after all I have witnessed, that is it. Come on, I am hungry. Let us find the heir of Winterfell and tell him some more about the paragon that is our sister." Loras put his arm around his brother and led him out of the room.
  
  After breaking their fast the next morning, Robb invited them to join him in the Godswood. Willas had not been allowed in there before. He was eager to follow his brother's example and removed his boots so he could bathe his feet in the warm water of the famous hot springs. He should have known it was all just a ruse of Robb Stark to get them to relax and lower their guards.
  
  They had hardly finished some observations about the enchanting weirwood tree when Robb surprised them by changing the topic to the rumours concerning the dragons that were spotted in Westeros.
  
  "Do you believe there is any truth to them?" Robb asked casually.
  
  Willas saw through his innocent remark immediately. Loras' so called friend was up to something. Only he didn't have the faintest idea what is was. Willas exchanged a look with Loras, while he contemplated whether it was safe to reveal part of his grandmother's suspicions. "We do not know what to think. Some say the dragon belongs to the Targaryen Princess across the Narrow Sea." He hedged.
  
  "Wouldn't it be something if that were true? I heard Princess Daenerys is supposed to be a rare beauty. Wasn't your house loyal to the Targaryens?" Robb seemed glad Willas had mentioned the Targaryen Princess.
  
  "Almost everyone in the Seven Kingdoms was loyal to House Targaryen at one time, House Stark as well." Willas kept his face neutral but his stiff posture revealed he was on his guard.
  
  "True, but doesn't your house owe their current position of Lord Paramount solely to House Targaryen? Would you raise your banners for them if they asked for your support?"
  
  Only the rustling of the leaves of the trees and the faint rippling of the hot water could be heard as Willas and Loras stayed silent.
  
  "What if I told you House Stark might consider an alliance with House Targaryen?" Robb tried once more to get a reaction out of both Tyrells.
  
  "What? That's impossible. Your father is Hand to King Robert. The entire realm knows what the King calls the Targaryen offspring." Willas was even more wary of Robb Stark now. The boy had an agenda and it was not simply ingratiating himself with House Tyrell. It almost seemed as if he was trying to get them to expose themselves as traitors to the Crown so his father could call for their heads.
  
  "You have my word as a Stark that whatever we talk about here in the Godswood stays between us and I only asked you hypothetically." Robb reassured the elder Tyrell. "Perhaps I am just curious because I heard rumours that House Tyrell had opened up negotiations with the Targaryen Princess in Essos? Hypothetically speaking, we could one day find ourselves on the same side."
  
  Loras looked at Robb in a peculiar way. "Is this related to what I have seen in the Riverlands?" he ventured.
  
  "It might be, but remember your oath. You will only be allowed to tell your brother if he swears the same oath in my presence."
  
  Willas looked at his brother with dismay. The boy had done nothing but swear vows lately. He turned his attention to Robb. Now it was his turn to throw Stark off balance. "If this is your way of courting our sister, you sure go about it in a strange fashion.
  
  Robb didn't flinch but laughed away this last comment. "As if I am able to decide that for myself. No, I will have to marry for political reasons and my bride will be chosen for me. I am just intrigued by all the rumours of dragons lately. Did you know two were spotted here in the north at the Stony Shore?"
  
  Willas Tyrell did not react and a subtle gesture to his brother resulted in Loras staying silent as well.
  
  Robb decided to give up for today. "Will we ask Lady Brienne to join us for a sparring session? I have been inactive for too long. I want to release some energy, before Maester Luwin summons me for some boring task I need to perform now that I am acting Lord of Winterfell.
  
  Loras was quick to oblige him, and started to put his boots back on. Willas politely declined by mentioning his leg would not allow him to join their session. He retired to the library where he could strategize in peace. He had to find a way to get Loras to reveal under what circumstances he had given these vows and to repeat them to him word for word. Perhaps he should write a long letter to his grandmother after all. If anyone would be able to make sense of all this, it would be her.
  
  On their way to the courtyard Loras and Robb startled Edric Dayne who was sitting on a bench next to Sansa. Robb had noticed them from afar. He had observed how Edric was listening intently to his sister the entire time it took them to approach. The couple did not notice their arrival until the others were already upon them. Sansa blushed while Edric jumped from the bench and joined his friends. Upon hearing their plans Sansa volunteered to go inside and fetch Lady Brienne. They were just about to tease Edric when their the young Lord forestalled them by blaming his friends for leaving him alone. Edric complained he had looked all over for them. Robb diverted his attention by challenging Edric and Loras to a small competition. He had been winning more lately and boasted he could win against them both today. They spent an enjoyable morning together.
  
  Interlude 16: Useful allies
  
  Part one: Greywater Watch
  
  For the first time in his life, Lord Reed doubted whether the Old Gods were the only Gods that mattered. Unexpected visitors had challenged his beliefs. His scouts had informed him that two men had already ventured half way through the swamps on their own. They described them as a Westerosi knight and a priest from Essos. Lord Reed had ordered his scouts to guide the two men the rest of the way to Greywater Watch and bring them to him.
  
  Howland Reed personally greeted his unexpected guests at the entrance of his keep. The men introduced themselves as Lord Beric of House Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven in the Stormlands and Thoros of Myr a red priest who lived in Westeros but had kept to his own faith and still worshipped the Lord of Light. Lord Reed had heard of both men. He remembered the priest was an experienced fighter. Ned Stark had told him of the man's brave but reckless exploits during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He offered his visitors salt and bread while they were still standing outside in front of the hall.
  
  A bit later the three of them were safely ensconced behind closed doors in Lord Reed's solar. The two travellers were staring as if transfixed into the fireplace around which they were all seated in cosy chairs strategically placed in a half circle. Lord Reed ignored their behaviour and came straight to the point.
  
  "My Lords, can you oblige a surprised host and inform him of the purpose of your visit to his remote domain?" he started the conversation.
  
  "The Lord of Light has sent us here to help your cause. " Thoros of Myr proclaimed reluctantly shifting his eyes from the fire to his host. "Your Prince needs our help."
  
  "My Prince?" Lord Reed exclaimed not able to hide his shock. It was not often someone could catch him entirely off guard. It usually happened the other way around.
  
  "The Prince Who Was Promised, he who will lead the fight against the Darkness. The Lord of Light has shown him to us in the fires. My God guided us through your swamps and kept us safe. This alone should convince you that we are speaking the truth." Thoros of Myr told all of this in a flat tone of voice which was in stark contrast to the high pitched tone Lord Reed had just used during his short outburst. The priest didn't need to raise his voice to get his meaning across. Absolute belief in the message of his God radiated from his entire being.
  
  "Do you know where to find this Prince?" Lord Reed was on high alert now. His Gods had not warned him of this strange visit. Did these strangers know of the existence of the Targaryen Prince? Were they even talking about Jon or was this Prince they mentioned someone entirely different? Somehow he didn't believe that.
  
  "He is where the Darkness grows and the snow never melts. Only he is worthy to take on the threat that lurks there. Rest assured. We are here to serve your Prince, not to harm him." Thoros tried to reassure his host.
  
  "He speaks the truth." Beric Dondarrion spoke up for the first time. "I've seen it in the flames as well. We came to warn you about the false Prince."
  
  "Beric, now you are scaring the poor man." Thoros admonished his traveling companion. "We came to warn you that a red Priestess has singled out another as the Prince Who Was Promised. The deluded man believes her every word. He has already made a human sacrifice on her orders to please the Lord of Light. Her magic makes him stronger and he will become a threat to the cause of your Prince. If the red Priestess succeeds, the real Prince Who Was Promised may never fulfil his destiny."
  
  "So that is how you do not scare the man, is it?" Beric admonished the red Priest.
  
  "I am sorry," Lord Reed interrupted the two bickering men, "why exactly are you telling me all this?
  
  "R'hllor, our Lord of Light acknowledges that you are guiding the real Prince. But the red Priestess' magic shields the intentions of the false Prince from the Old Gods." Thoros of Myr knew the existence of the Lord of Light would be a difficult thing to accept, especially to this man who had such a close relationship with his own Gods. And they needed Lord Reed not only to believe in His existence, they had to convince him that their Fire God and the Old Gods were on the same side for once.
  
  And will you reveal the identity of this false Prince my Gods are unable to warn me about or do you enjoy speaking in riddles?" Howland Reed needed more information before he was willing to disclose anything himself.
  
  Thoros of Myr on the other hand knew with absolute certainty that their purpose was to help the Prince who would save them all and was confident that they could safely reveal their sacred mission to this man. He signalled his companion that he should go ahead.
  
  Lord Dondarrion spoke up "The Red Priestess, Melisandre is it at Storm's end and has Stannis Baratheon under her spell. The Lord of Light guided us here because you will need our assistance to deal with this situation. Will you now repay our trust and reveal the identity of the real Prince Who Was Promised to us?" Thoros leaned forward in his chair and stared firmly in the greenseers' eyes to make his words more convincing.
  
  "How do I know you are not looking for my so-called Prince to offer him up to your Lord of Light? Red priests burn their sacrifices, don't they? If you presume rightly that I have protected him for this long, why would I risk him now?"
  
  "You can trust us. I swear it upon my honour. It was the Lord of Light who guided us through your swamps because he realises your Prince, born of ice and fire is the only one who can bring the Dawn. Our God and your Gods have the same purpose. They are working together to save the realms of men from the danger that lurks behind the Wall." Lord Dondarrion looked beseechingly at Howland Reed.
  
  Lord Reed sighed. There was no doubt left in his mind. They were talking about the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. However he still wanted to try and contact his Gods before he went against the directives the Conspiracy had held onto for more than seventeen years.
  
  "If that is the case, let us drop this subject for now. I will consult the Old Gods tonight. You are of course welcome to stay the night. Even with your God's guidance, it is too dangerous to navigate the swamps at night. And I am eager to finish our discussion tomorrow morning. I sincerely apologise for stalling you like this."
  
  Not waiting for their reaction he pulled a chord and a crannogman appeared in the doorway. "This man will escort you to your rooms. As soon as you have refreshed yourselves, we will enjoy supper in my hall. My man will show you the way there as well. I hope you can tell me about your travels during our meal. I'd love to hear more about the Stormlands. You are the first visitors that we have received from that part of the realm." Lord Reed had tabled the delicate topic for now.
  
  "No talk of prophesies at the dinner table. I get it." Lord Dondarrion promised and both men followed their appointed guide out.
  
  Lord Reed closed his eyes. 'If this is how the others feel when I reveal my sometimes vague green dreams, I finally can commiserate with their frustration' . He fervently hoped that the Old Gods would be willing to provide him with their guidance tonight.
  
  The next morning Lord Reed felt much better. Even though the Old Gods had not given him another premonition, they had been unequivocal in relaying to him that his guests were trustworthy. He was grateful now that they had come all the way to warn him about Stannis Baratheon posing a threat to his Prince's cause. He did not disclose Jon's true identity but told them that the one they called the Prince Who Was Promised went by the name of Jon Celtigar to hide his royal lineage for now and was currently at the Wall more specifically at Castle Black. He added that the Old Gods had proclaimed his Prince to be the shield that will guard the realms of men against the Long Night a long time ago.
  
  Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion accepted his answer without blinking and enquired no further. The three men shared the belief that the Long Night and the Darkness were just different terms their Gods used to describe the same evil. The two travellers thanked Lord Reed for his hospitality and left immediately after breaking their fast. They were heading back to Storm's End to futher investigate the actions of the false Prince and his Red Priestess so they would learn how to stop them from endangering the realms of men with their deluded cause.
  
  Lord Reed watched them disappear from his sight and hurried to his solar to prepare several messages.
  
  Part two: The Vale of Arryn
  
  Lord Yohn Royce contemplated the scroll he had received from Winterfell. He knew way before he read the message from Lord Stark that the situation at the Vale was deteriorating. Ever since his last conversation with Lysa Arryn about fostering options for her son, the woman had isolated herself high up in the Eyrie and had cut off all communications with the other houses in the Vale. He feared for the wellbeing of Lord Arryn's son, the future Warden of the Vale. The woman was unstable, if not mad outright and had totally hampered the development of her son. The nine year old boy still suckled at his mother's breast, never left her side and had uncontrolled anger outbursts that were typical for a three year old.
  
  The only thing that went up the mountain for now, were the donkeys guided by female servants loyal to Lady Arryn, carrying baskets with food and drink. The few servants and small retinue of guards that had been allowed to stay in her presence were virtual prisoners up there. She had sent all the others down a sennight ago.
  
  He wondered how he could get to the boy without bloodshed. The Eyrie was an impregnable fortress. As leader of the Vale's forces, neither the Bloody Gate at the mouth of the Vale nor the two Moon Gates could hold him back. It would take him no more than two intimidating sentences to convince the guards to ignore Lady Arryn's orders. It was the steep, narrow mountain path, the only way to reach the Eyrie that took most of the day to climb that presented the problem. He feared the guards high up the mountain under direct orders of Lysa Arryn would attack any approaching party by dropping rocks, boulders or even oil to light them on fire. Strategically positioned archers were a danger as well. Unless he could figure out a way to get these guards on his side, it would be mere suicide to start the long ascend along the narrow mountain path where a man needed all his concentration not to take a false step and fall to his death.
  
  He had thought of tampering with the daily shipments of ale and wine by adding a touch of the shade of night to it to drug the remaining adults in the Eyrie. There were however two big issues with that plan. First of all it would risk the already precarious health of Robin Arryn since you could not be sure what Lysa permitted the boy to drink. But also the plan was not full proof plan since one could not be certain that the guards would all receive their drinks at the same time. The drug would only keep them asleep for part of the day.
  
  The message from the Lord of Winterfell had convinced him to take the only action he could come up with for now. He had dispatched some of his finest archers to a mountaintop situated between the Giant's Lance on which top the Eyrie was situated and King's Landing. If they could shoot down the ravens that flew to and from the capital, they could stop Peter Baelish from further poisoning the mind of Lady Arryn. If the treasonous coward really wanted to marry her, become Lord of the Vale and conspire to put Robin Arryn on the Iron Throne, he would have to come up to the Vale himself to convince her. And when he did, Lord Royce would be waiting for him.
  
  Meanwhile he still needed to think of a way to infiltrate the Eyrie. The only plan he had in motion was his search for a female servant, someone not only indubitably loyal to him but also willing to take the risk. She would be tasked to get subtle messages to the guards. These men were surely getting desperate. Not only were they isolated from friends and family, they were also obligated to obey the ridiculous orders of a paranoid woman who was growing more erratic by the day. He only needed to get a handful to cooperate with them. It could work. It would only take a while.
  
  If not for the boy, he would just poison the murderous bitch and be done with it. If Eddard Stark wrote that Lysa Arryn and Littlefinger had conspired to murder the former Hand of the King who had been their highly respected Lord Paramount and Warden of the East for decades, Yohn Royce didn't doubt that it was true. The bitch would have to die but he agreed with the constraint Lord Eddard Stark had insisted upon. By no means should they take any action that could potentially endanger young Robin Arryn.
  
  The message ended with a vague warning not to turn away help should it arrive from the skies. As if Yohn Royce was in a position to turn away any help at this point. It was high time they eliminated that mad woman before she harmed herself and her son.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter, Jon needs to find sanctuary.
  
  Prince Oberyn boasts about his accomplishments
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Sanctuary
  Chapter 17: Sanctuary
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon is in trouble and needs to find sanctuary.
  
  Prince Oberyn meets Howland Reed.
  
  Notes:
  
  This chapter takes place right after the events of "Changing priorities" and will span the time before and during the royal visit at Winterfell. This means Jon's interim visit to Winterfell from last chapter has not happened yet.
  
  Bear with me and hopefully all will become clear. If not you can always contact me by leaving a comment. I will try to answer your questions without revealing spoilers.
  
  The interlude takes place in a very near future
  
  I also have VERY GOOD NEWS. I have found a beta. Not only is she a welcome help to avoid spelling and grammar errors, she is also a wonderful adviser and has a thorough knowledge and understanding of GRRM's universe.
  
  That said, I take full responsibility for any errors or plot-holes still in there since I am the one who created them in the first place.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Once more it was almost dark when Jon arrived at Castle Black without alerting the Night's Watch to his mode of transportation. To his surprise the south gate opened before he had the chance to knock. Jon looked hesitant but relaxed when he saw it was Jaremy Rykker, the Master at Arms who let him in. Jon greeted the other guards with a nod and walked beside Rykker to the building where his great-great-uncle had his quarters.
  
  "Thank you Ser Jaremy. I understand you got the message from Ser Gerold Hightower?"
  
  "Yes my Prince. Can I say that it is an honour to be singled out to guard you? You cannot possibly understand what it means to us Targaryen supporters to find out that a true son of our beloved Prince Rhaegar is alive and well and that the three missing Kingsguard survived. I hope one day I will witness you riding your dragon with my very own eyes. And please, just call me Rykker. At the Wall we relinquish our titles when we say our vows."
  
  "It is me who should thank you for your devotion to my family. I am sorry that you have been living in exile all these years because of it. Can you tell me who at Castle Black knows of my true identity?"
  
  "Well the Lord Commander, Maester Aemon of course and I have taken the liberty to tell my friend Gylles Stokeworth. He was sent to the Wall the same day as me. We fought side by side at the Trident. We both have sworn in the presence of Maester Aemon that we will do anything we can to keep you safe while you are with us at the Wall. The Lord Commander has begrudgingly agreed to release us from our normal duties for the entire duration of your stay. After hearing the reports from the scouting party, he would be a fool not to realise that you are a powerful ally and it is not in the interest of the Night's Watch to let something happen to you here."
  
  "It is still not clear to me what the other brothers of the Night's Watch know about all of this exactly. You say only four people are aware of my true identity, but surely the scouting party must have informed them that they received help from a person on a dragon?"
  
  "I am told both your great-great-uncle and your Stark uncle will fill you in, my Prince. I think you will find them both in here." Rykker opened the door and made room for Jon to enter the chamber where he had spent such a lot of time years before. "I'll be right outside if you need anything." Rykker closed the door a soon as Jon had stepped inside.
  
  Jon's eyes were still adjusting to the faintly lit room when he got pulled into a tight embrace by his Uncle Benjen. "I'm so glad to see you are safe and sound, Uncle." Jon told him whilst hugging him back.
  
  "No more than I am to be safe and still very much alive." His uncle laughed. "Come and sit with us by the fire."
  
  Jon went to the armchair where is elderly uncle was resting with his eyes closed. Aemon Targaryen had lost even more weight and looked to be on death's door. "Is he awake?" Jon asked.
  
  "I'm sure he won't mind that you wake him up if he isn't." His Stark uncle replied. "He asks after your whereabouts every time I dare to show my face in here. Apparently he still has something of great importance to relay to you. Go easy on him, Jon and don't tire him out too much. I do not think he will live for much longer." Benjen Stark's look of concern was for his nephew though. He had witnessed all too often how the young man relished each letter from his great-great-uncle and lived by the man's guidelines. Benjen had once overheard Jon talk to Sam about the duty and responsibilities of a dragonrider of House Targaryen and how he needed to abide by a strict moral code without going into the particulars.
  
  Jon dropped to his knees before his uncle's chair.
  
  "Uncle Aemon?" Jon carefully touched his shoulder. Uncle Aemon?"
  
  The old man stirred and opened one blind eye. Taking that as a sign of his uncle being conscious enough to understand him, Jon spoke gently to him once more. "It is me Aegon. I am back, Uncle. Shall we let you sleep and return tomorrow morning or do you prefer to talk to me now?"
  
  Jon saw his great-great-uncle make an effort to become fully awake. The wrinkled skin around his mouth became even more pronounced when the old man tried to speak. "Egg? Is that you? Can you bring me some water please?" His voice sounded hoarse.
  
  "Uncle Benjen?" Jon asked. "Would you be willing to leave us alone please? I know Uncle Aemon will greatly appreciate that. If you let me know where your quarters are then I will come to you after we are done talking here. Could you also enquire where I may sleep tonight please?"
  
  "Of course, Jon. I have a room in the west tower. Rykker will escort you there. I happen to know they have granted you the room next to mine. Take all the time you need here but do not forget that I really would like to see you before you retire." Uncle Benjen had reached the door by the time he stopped talking. Jon nodded and exchanged a warm look with his uncle who smiled encouragingly before closing the door behind him. Jon filled a cup with water using the jug that stood on a table near the window and handed it to his great-great-uncle.
  
  The old man took a few small sips and smacked his lips. "I am glad you are here, Aegon." His voice still cracked and he paused to take another sip. He cleared his throat and tried again. "When you did not come back with the scouting party and I heard you had returned to your ships, I despaired you would not visit me again in time. My days are numbered, my dearest Nephew. And I do not have the option to put the things I still have to tell you in writing." His voice got weaker at the end of this little speech and he started to cough.
  
  "Here Uncle, take another sip and try to speak slowly. Are you sure you want to do this tonight? We have all the time in the world. I promise I won't leave Castle Black before you have told me all you need to tell me. I'll be here for several sennights." Noticing how his uncle's shaking hands had trouble bringing the cup to his lips without spilling anything, he helped him keep the cup upright and guided it to the elder man's lips. He was getting worried. Up close his uncle looked even more gaunt and very weak.
  
  "Nor can I dictate them to someone who is not entitled to know." Maester Aemon continued as if there had been no interruption. "A Targaryen vows to disclose this knowledge only to the head of his house or to a kinsman who commands a dragon. You still lack crucial knowledge about the abilities of Targaryens and the procreation of dragons." His uncle closed his eyes for a moment. He was breathing heavily. Apparently simply talking was enough to exhaust him in his current state.
  
  "Other abilities, Uncle?" Jon asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He momentarily forgot his intention of urging his uncle once more to postpone their talk until morning. "Why didn't you tell me of these before?
  
  "During your first stay, you were still too young and a sennight ago you didn't have the time." Another bout of coughing racked Aemon Targaryen's body. When the coughing subsided, his uncle's shorts breaths were accompanied by a wheezing sound.
  
  "Perhaps you should rest a bit first, Uncle? Would it help if I asked the steward to prepare a cup of herbal tea?" Jon was getting really worried that his uncle was overextending himself.
  
  "Sit down Egg and listen, please. I will not rest until I have done my duty to our House."
  
  Jon couldn't miss the desperate note in his uncle's voice. He wouldn't press the issue any further. However, he couldn't help but wonder why Uncle Aemon had never summoned him to come to the Wall sooner if there were still such crucial things he should know about.
  
  "Of course, Uncle Aemon. I am sitting really close to you. You do not have to speak up. I will hear everything you want to tell me." He gently cradled his uncle's wrinkled hand in his and decided to give his vow freely saving his uncle from having to ask it of him. "I, Aegon Targaryen solemnly vow that I will only disclose this information to my heir or to a Targaryen who controls a dragon."
  
  His Uncle Aemon squeezed his hand in acknowledgement and started talking. Somehow the old man summoned the necessary strength to describe in detail how some Targaryens could use a certain substance to invoke greendreams. He warned his nephew that it was a hazardous and unpredictable enterprise that only adults in the prime of their life should attempt and even then solely when the future of their house was in peril.
  
  When Jon had assured his uncle that he had committed the instructions to memory and would mentally recite them at regular intervals so as not to forget the slightest detail, his uncle revealed to him how Targaryens could help their dragons to procreate. Jon had to make another vow to adhere to a strict moral code and to bring new dragons into the world only when certain criteria were met. His uncle explained that it was King Jaehaerys, First of his Name, that had created several rules to prevent their House from abusing the power of dragons. Jon had to repeat the exact wording of the rules several times until his uncle was satisfied that he would remember them. Then he made Jon swear to uphold them at all times. As soon as Jon had sworn to faithfully adhere to the edicts of King Jaehaerys I, his uncle slumped back in his chair. Jon offered him the cup once more and encouraged him to take a few sips.
  
  "I am really tired now, Aegon." His uncle remarked as soon as Jon had put the cup down. "Can you call the steward to help put me to bed? I will see you in the morning. Do not worry, dear Nephew. I know that this night I will enjoy a good night's sleep for I am at peace. Now that I have had the opportunity to officially pass the responsibility of our House on to you, a big burden has left my shoulders. House Targaryen will become a great House once more under your leadership, Aegon Targaryen. You will make our ancestors proud. Good night, dear Nephew." His voice was no more than a faint whisper when he uttered this good night wish.
  
  Jon reluctantly got up. For some reason he was hesitant to leave his uncle alone. His worried eyes were fixed on the emaciated body of his elderly relative. "Are you sure you want me to go, Uncle? Isn't there anything else I can help you with before you retire?"
  
  "Don't worry about me, Egg. I will feel better after I have rested. Just send the steward in. He is familiar with my needs and will take excellent care of me."
  
  "I'll adhere to your wishes, Uncle. Send someone to fetch me when you are able to receive my visit again tomorrow. I would very much like to tell you of my recent deeds and look forward to receiving more of your wise advice. Sleep well." Jon carefully applied a bit of pressure to his relative's hand to mimic a goodbye gesture. Impulsively he leaned toward his uncle to kiss his wrinkled cheek and left the room with a heavy heart.
  
  He almost bumped into Jaremy Rykker who stood patiently at the other side of the door. Jon tried to force a small smile on his face. "Rykker, can you show me to Benjen Stark's quarters in the west tower please?"
  
  "This way, my Prince." The Master at Arms immediately complied with his request and headed toward the exit.
  
  Jon followed him in silence, his thoughts still with his elderly relative. Jon had never seen a man grow so old or frail before. He prayed Aemon Targaryen would still be alive come morning.
  
  Rykker showed him the room where his Uncle Benjen was waiting for him. Before opening it he pointed out another door a bit further along the dark corridor. "That door leads to your quarters, my Prince.
  
  "Thank you, Rykker. I really appreciate your vigilance. You may retire now. I will not leave the west tower before morning and Benjen Stark will accompany me to the common room then. You can meet us there and we can work out a schedule for the next few days."
  
  "As you wish, my Prince." He bowed and left swiftly.
  
  Jon knocked on the door of the room where Uncle Benjen waited for him. His uncle ushered him inside and immediately offered him a seat and some food. Noticing his nephew's despondent attitude he raised his eyebrow. "Is something the matter, Jon?"
  
  Jon sat down at the small table releasing a big sigh. "I am just worried about Uncle Aemon."
  
  "Was he able to tell you everything he needed?" Benjen poured a cup of ale and placed it next to Jon's plate.
  
  "Yes he was. At least his mind is at ease now." Jon lifted the cup to his lips. An image of the cracked lips of Uncle Aemon flickered through his mind.
  
  Benjen pushed the untouched plate of food a bit closer to his nephew. "Come on, eat something. You will have a busy day tomorrow and will need all of your energy. Try not to worry about Maester Aemon. He has already lived much longer than most men. I know for a fact that your existence gave his life a new purpose and he has been far happier these last few years knowing another male Targaryen exists in the world. All men must die once, Jon. I know it is not a very comforting thing to hear right now but there is nothing we mere mortals can do about it."
  
  "Valar Morghulis," Jon confirmed. "That is the customary greeting in Essos. It translates as 'all men must die'." He contemplated the food in front of him. "Still I will miss his guidance and his company when he leaves this world." Jon picked up his fork and made an effort to eat some of the food.
  
  His Stark uncle watched him slowly work through his plate and waited patiently until Jon finally pushed it away. Then he raised his cup and encouraged Jon to do the same. Together they toasted to the health of Maester Aemon Targaryen.
  
  "You on the other hand look better, Uncle. As far as I can tell you have fully recovered from your ordeal. Can you tell me what behaviour I might expect from the Lord Commander and the other men of the Night's Watch? Since you outed me as a Targaryen and Southern King to the Free Folk, I am anxious to know what you or Edd Tollet have revealed to the men here at the Wall?" Jon's tone was slightly admonishing.
  
  "Well Jon, can you blame a man for mistakenly thinking upon seeing you ride a dragon, that the secret is out?" His uncle pouted his lips, cocked his head to the left and blinked his eyes a few times mimicking some whore who had once tried to seduce him with this gesture.
  
  Jon jaw shifted slightly as he watched the droll expression. Then he remembered his uncle's answer hadn't provided him with the requested information. "That still doesn't tell me what I want to know. Am I Jon Celtigar an obscure Lord of the Driftmark with some accidental Valyrian blood or am I Aegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and rightful heir to the Iron throne."
  
  "Aren't you both?" His uncle raised his cup and drank once more. It seems his uncle's relief to be alive had momentarily transformed the sensible man into a poor jester.
  
  Jon did not return his uncle's toast. He ignored his own cup and focused on their discussion.
  
  "Please Uncle, stop teasing. You know what I mean. Here at the Wall, can I still be Jon Celtigar or is the secret out?" He saw his uncle lose his mocking expression. A frown now creased his forehead.
  
  "We are trying to keep your origins under wraps for now but I am sure some suspect. They know you are the one who saved me with the assistance of dragons. However, I have heard no rumours of you possibly being a trueborn Targaryen yet and Edd Tollet has vowed to keep your identity under wraps. Unfortunately being a dragonrider means you are a possible threat to the Crown regardless of who sired you. There is the lucky circumstance that no ravens leave the Wall without the knowledge of the Lord Commander. Nevertheless, the presence of dragons at the Wall will get out eventually, Jon."
  
  His uncle shook his head a few times and then looked Jon straight in the eyes. "I am not the only one to blame though. You started all of it by using your dragons for all to see at the Stony Shore. Surely you realise that no matter how many rumours Varys and the others counter, King Robert will catch on eventually?"
  
  Jon ignored these last few sentences still focussing on the issue at hand. "And the Free Folk? What are the chances they will call me Southern King during the negotiations or drop the word Targaryen?"
  
  "I told Tormund Giantsbane that the Crows know neither your real name nor that you have a claim to the Iron Throne. I implied that we trust the Free Folk more than the Night's Watch. I think that did the trick. At least I hope so. Besides that man will go to any length for you. It seems you made quite an impression on him."
  
  When Jon stayed silent, Benjen stood up and raised his cup once more.
  
  "To my dearest nephew who I thank from the bottom of my heart for his timely rescue and who I will always love as a son." He drank deeply until his cup was empty.
  
  This time Jon drank as well. When his finished his cup, he got up and embraced his uncle.
  
  "You are the closest thing I have to a father, Uncle." He held on to his uncle for some time finding comfort in the knowledge that at least this relative was safe and healthy. His uncle seemed to understand Jon's state of mind and left it to his nephew to decide when to end their hug. Finally Jon dropped his arms and took his seat again. He took the empty cup in his hand without realising what he was doing. His eyes stared into it with an absent look.
  
  "Did you know that as a twelve year old, I was extremely disappointed when you revealed to me we were family but you were not my father? Those first few nights I lay awake half of the night wishing I heard it wrong or tried to convince myself that you still kept the secret to protect me but that the real truth was that you were my actual birth father and everyone who said otherwise was helping you keep the secret for some obscure reason or other." Jon felt tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked a few times and swallowed.
  
  Benjen studied his dearest relative who was still fidgeting with the empty cup, probably using it as an excuse to keep his head down.
  
  "Jon, look at me. You are blood of my blood. Father or uncle, does it really matter? There are fathers who hate their sons. A relationship is defined by the feelings of the two persons involved. I certainly love you as much as a father can love a son. Do I really have to paint the picture here or do you understand what I am trying to say? The Gods know I am a man of deeds and not words." He put both hands on his nephew's shoulders to emphasise his words but it were his eyes who really conveyed his feelings.
  
  Both men shared a timid look, the emotions visible on their faces. Benjen dropped his hands and looked a bit uneasy after this uncharacteristic expression of his deepest feelings. Jon cleared his throat and blinked a few times more. "Perhaps we should call it a night? You said yourself we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."
  
  His uncle swallowed but readily agreed and accompanied him to the neighbouring room. After a curt nod and a brief hug, he left his nephew's room and closed the door behind him.
  
  The next morning Jon avoided the large hall where the meals were served and broke his fast in solitude. Surprisingly enough his uncle was not to be found in his room. Well, Jon couldn't fault him for that. He had forgotten to mention yesterday evening that he had planned to walk to the common room in his company. For some reason Jon felt unsettled at the Wall. Perhaps he should have listened to Ser Gerold. He hadn't realised until now how accustomed he had become to the reassuring presence of armed guards and trustworthy advisers who had his back at all times.
  
  When he entered the main building in search of his uncle, a total silence fell over the room. All heads turned in his direction. He tried to fight the uneasy feeling that rose in his stomach. The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor startled the men as the Lord Commander rose and welcomed Jon Celtigar formally to Castle Black. This prompted Jon to approach the high table. He tried very hard to shut out the whispers that started up again behind his back.
  
  "I am sorry, Commander Mormont, I do not wish to disturb but I was looking for Lord Benjen of House Stark." He paused hoping the man would come forward with the whereabouts of his uncle without delay. A knot formed in his stomach when he witnessed the man's face fall.
  
  "I presume you haven't heard then." Jeor Mormont sighed and sat back down. "Maester Aemon passed away sometime during the night. I believe Benjen Stark can be found in the Maester's quarters. I am very sorry for your loss. I recently learned how close you two really were."
  
  "I thank you." Jon stammered the few words. He had paled considerably. He turned around and left the room neither seeing nor hearing the stares and whispers that were escalating. His great-great-uncle had died. It had been rather obvious that Aemon Targaryen had fought desperately to stay alive long enough to transfer his knowledge to his kinsman and that once at peace his body would give in. But Jon had hoped to spend a few more days with him before that happened.
  
  The cold air enveloped him when he stepped outside. Somehow it left him defenseless when a sudden wave of loneliness hit him. Jon stumbled and sought support against the nearest wall. He tried to clear his mind and concentrated on his breathing. In out, in out. Slowly he felt the strength return to his shaky legs. He pushed off from the wall and forced himself to continue his search for Benjen Stark.
  
  He found his uncle making himself useful in the Maester's quarters. Benjen Stark stood at the other side of Maester Aemon's bed and acknowledged Jon's presence with a solemn nod. Uncle Benjen informed him that the Night's Watch would burn his uncle's body that night. A reluctant glance at the lifeless body convinced Jon that he couldn't handle staying in these quarters today. He left the room muttering a short excuse to Uncle Benjen and returned to his quarters in the west tower.
  
  In the midst of his grief, he didn't notice that Rykker had followed him ever since he had left the common room and had been watching over him from a distance the entire time. He only noticed the man when he turned around to shut the door of his bed chamber. Somehow Jon managed a nod in his direction before closing it entirely. He collapsed on his bed when an idea struck him. He adjusted his position, focused his mind and established a mental connection with his dragons. Together they took a moment to mourn the loss of a member of their small family. Sharing his grief with them made it more bearable.
  
  When his mind had cleared somewhat, he realised he would have to inform Princess Daenerys that their uncle had passed away and that the two of them were the only Targaryens left in the world. It proved to be a rather difficult message to write. He knew all too well from her letters how much she had looked forward to meet yet another living Targaryen. She had been so glad to learn that instead of being the only one left, she had two male relatives living in Westeros. If the situation at the Wall was not so dire, Jon would be on his way to Pentos right now. It would make the news so much more bearable for her if he could just wrap his arms around her. Jon shook his head. Who was he kidding? He would obtain some welcome relief as well to have the physical reassurance that they still had each other. It took all his mental strength not to jump on Rhaegal and fly south east.
  
  After several attempts, he completed a decent enough message and sealed it quickly so he could maintain his resolve to keep Ser Barristan's journey to her a secret. He really wanted it to be a welcome surprise and could almost visualise her joy when the famous knight would suddenly appear on her doorstep ready to take her home to Dragonstone. Her last message had elaborated on her eagerness and impatience to live together on Dragonstone. It had been hard then as well not to spoil the surprise and reveal that she was spending her last sennights in Pentos when he wrote his answer.
  
  He decided to distract his thoughts by going on a short scouting mission. The day before, they had sent word of his arrival to the Free Folk. He knew the first official meeting between Free Folk, the Night's watch and his entourage was planned to take place approximately two and a half sennights from now. Jon had planned to take the time in between to gather information about the enemy's strength, position and movements. If some of the Free Folk would spot him riding his dragon it would only make Giantsbane's tale of his rescue more believable.
  
  When Jon felt calm enough to leave his room, he was relieved to see Jaremy Rykker was guarding his door. When he told him he wanted to check up on his dragons the man immediately asked permission for his friend to come along. Soon after, Jon was introduced to Gylles Stokeworth. His new guard cut an imposing figure in his black attire. He was easily as tall as Sandor Clegane. His long grey beard made him look older than Jon supposed he actually was. It became clear from the first word he uttered that the man was extremely happy with the news of a possible restoration of House Targaryen. He vowed on the spot to obey his Prince's every command proudly declaring that the words of House Stokeworth were 'Proud to be Faithful'."
  
  Jon took it all in stride. Slowly but surely he had come to terms with the devotion and subservience of men more than twice his age. He tried not to let it go to his head, fully aware it was also a great responsibility. Every decision he made could impact all these loyal men's lives. He expressed his thanks to Gylles Stokeworth and gently reminded the overwhelmed man not to refer to him as a Prince in public.
  
  The three of them left Castle Black through the south gate and walked towards the woods.
  
  When Gylles Stokeworth cleared his throat, Jon slowed his steps to draw level with the man. It was strange to see the imposing man look so hesitant to address a mere seventeen year old. "Is something the matter, Stokeworth? Please feel free to speak up."
  
  "It is rumoured you are in possession of Blackfyre. Is that true?" At Jon's nod he continued. "Would it be too much to ask you to show it to us?" They had stopped walking at this point.
  
  Jon smiled remembering how awestruck he had been when he first learned this legendary sword was not lost and was rightfully his to claim. He slowly removed the Valyrian steel sword from its scabbard and showed it to both men turning it slowly so they could admire it from all angles. A few moments later he carefully sheathed Blackfyre again and they resumed their walk.
  
  Jon stopped after approximately two miles. "It is best you stay here. I will walk a bit further and call for my dragons. Do not approach them. You are free to return to Castle Black after you have seen me fly off. I will be back in time for supper and the burning ceremony."
  
  Jon smiled when he saw both men's reverential reaction to the dragons. He realised that fervent Targaryen loyalists would welcome that sight more readily than anyone else. He waved at them when he flew over their heads, northward bound.
  
  Up in the air it hit him that he did not have the time to venture far enough north to spot the enemy today. He decided to change direction and flew toward the west coast. He would find a quiet spot to spend some time with his dragons. He ordered Rhaegal and Viserion to thaw a space near some large trees which offered a beautiful view over the Bay of Ice and asked them to land there. Jon took up his favourite position against Rhaegal's flank and spent a peaceful afternoon with his dragons. They connected their minds and Jon showed them his best memories of Aemon Targaryen. Then he shared with them that he looked forward to introduce them to another member of their family soon. When he started the journey back to Caste Black, he felt somewhat revived and hoped he would be able to attend the burial ceremony with dignity.
  
  "I have been looking all over for you." Benjen Stark took him aside the moment he saw his nephew enter the courtyard through the south gate. "Next time, please inform me of your plans. You are no doubt aware that Ser Gerold handed me the responsibility to keep a guard on you at all times. I was worried sick until Rykker told me you had taken the dragons on a scouting mission and would be back in time for supper."
  
  "I am sorry, Uncle. I was upset by the news of Uncle Aemon's demise and needed to connect with Rhaegal and Viserion." Jon kept his voice down, well aware of the spectacle they made. Several members of the Night's Watch had stopped what they were doing to watch both of them interact.
  
  "Let's go inside." His uncle had also spotted the interest they were gathering. "Supper and the burning ceremony will be interesting enough. No need to start the show early."
  
  "What show?" Jon asked taken aback.
  
  "Jeor Mormont wants to make an announcement at supper. It has been brought to his attention that the men are gossiping behind your back and that the stories are growing more absurd the longer they remain unaddressed. He will officially announce your purpose here and give them the itinerary of the next few days." His uncle looked ill at ease. "Come on, let's get moving."
  
  "Before talking this through with me so we could perhaps influence his wording a bit? This is a delicate situation. I thought things would be easier now that he knows who I really am." Jon followed his uncle a look of dismay on his face.
  
  "Jon, at this point in time you are nothing but a pretender. You have no political power yet. Besides, the Watch takes no part in politics."
  
  "But they are in dire need of help from me and my dragons. I think I vastly prefer the attitude of the Free Folk." They entered the west tower.
  
  "Do not forget the Free Folk witnessed first hand what your dragons are capable of. Jeor Mormont did not. He only has the testimony of Edd Tollet and myself. Also bear in mind that he is rather disappointed to put it mildly that you could not save Qhorin Halfhand." His uncle tried to appease his nephew.
  
  "Do you even know what Mormont's itinerary for the next few days is? Are you comfortable with this situation, Uncle? Do you intend to talk me out of confronting him beforehand?" Jon had reached the door of his chamber and entered.
  
  "I will not if you promise to keep your temper in check and ask politely." Benjen sighed. "And I insist on coming along. I presume you will want to change first and I will leave you to do so privately." he swiftly turned away but was too late to hide the expression on his face from his nephew.
  
  "Uncle Benjen," Jon troubled by his uncle's demeanour stopped him from walking out the door. "Never ever hesitate to state your honest opinion to me. That is the only way this works. I am used to bouncing ideas off my advisers to develop strategies and they in turn are frank with me. Since you are the only one here I can really talk to, you will have to bear the brunt of my hair brained ideas. Do not take my outbursts personally. I will always respect your opinions and listen to your admonishments. Surely you are aware of the fact that your advice and opinions have a tremendous impact on me."
  
  Jon paused to give his uncle time to mull this over. Seeing him relax his stance he continued. "If you think on it, you are fulfilling Davos' duties and are temporarily Hand of the future King. And you know who they say wields the real power in Westeros." A mischievous light shone in Jon's eyes now.
  
  "You will be the death of me one day, you know that don't you? Can you distinguish all these grey hairs that keep appearing? At least half of them are your doing. You do realise I am in a bit of a bind here? I am the official liaison between the Watch and the realm. Defending Jeor Mormont has become a natural reflex of sorts. But have no fear, my dear nephew, my allegiance to you trumps all that. I only ask that you will give me some time to adjust to this new dynamic." His Uncle Benjen left the doorway and stepped back into the room.
  
  "So, do you actually have some advice on what to do about Mormont's imminent announcement?" Jon returned to the matter at hand, immediately taking advantage of their new level of understanding.
  
  Benjen walked to the window and watched the goings on in the courtyard. "I suppose it would do no harm to casually ask him about it if we happened upon him. Normally around this time he makes a short appearance in the training yard. Shall we venture there after you have refreshed yourself?"
  
  At Jon's questioning frown he added. "Your normally so beautiful curls are rather windblown, my dearest boy."
  
  Jon laughed. "If that is the case, just give me a moment. A few drops of water can work wonders to tame my unruly curls.
  
  Benjen Stark had been obliged to use his diplomatic skills and all the goodwill he had amassed over the years with Jeor Mormont to come to a compromise acceptable to both parties. Somehow Jon seemed to rub the man the wrong way. A very unusual thing since his nephew normally got on so well with everyone, nobles, servants, Free Folk. Jeor Mormont however seemed immune to the boy's charms and every word Jon uttered put the man immediately on the defensive. At one point during the discussion, Benjen had unobtrusively gestured Jon to keep quiet and let him do the talking. In the end Benjen had been able to slightly influence the Lord Commander's plans. The man had agreed to keep his speech a bit more neutral but more importantly he had agreed to delay it until after the funeral. He would address his men the next day immediately after everyone had broken their fast in the common room.
  
  "What is his problem with me?" Jon complained when the Lord Commander had disappeared inside at a summons of his steward.
  
  "Several things I assume. It all started when you were forced on him as a twelve year old kid. Then you saved the day when he could not. He is a proud man, Jon. It is not easy for such a man to come to terms with the fact that he is forced to accept the help of a seventeen year old boy. You are a Targaryen and the North remembers. He most probably also resents you for the attention you get and is scared that your presence will stir up trouble. There are Targaryen loyalists and Baratheon supporters here taunting each other and rows might break out at any time. Only a few men here are nobles exiled for political reasons. Many recruits are convicted murderers, rapist or thieves. You know that. It is not easy to keep them in line. Mormont's task is difficult enough on a normal day. Your presence makes his command even more challenging,"
  
  "Would it help if we tell him about Ser Jorah's position as head of Princess Daenerys' protection detail?"
  
  "For heavens' sake, do not bring that up. His son brought shame on his house and Jeor Mormont volunteered his services to the Night's Watch so he would no longer have to face his bannermen and prove at the same time to the Warden of the North that there are still honourable Mormonts."
  
  "So there is nothing I can do to ease the situation?" This was unfamiliar territory for Jon and it was inconvenient to be at odds with the man who commanded the forces at the Wall. He hoped Ser Gerold did not learn too soon exactly how precarious Jon's relationship with Jeor Mormont really was.
  
  "Nothing that I can think of right now. Just keep your distance for the time being and only talk to him when you're spoken to. Let me be your spokesman. Make sure you stay close to Rykker or Stokeworth at all times but especially during the announcement and the burning ceremony. Always carry your sword and both daggers as well. It never hurts to come prepared. We will make sure to seat ourselves close to an exit during the announcement."
  
  Jon shook his head in disbelief. "All I want to do is save the lives of the Free Folk and the Night's Watch. It is hard to come to terms with the fact that I must protect myself from the very people I want to keep safe."
  
  "You'll feel better once we have held our first official meeting with all parties." His uncle tried to comfort his nephew. "You will be scouting tomorrow for most of the day anyway and perhaps the next few days as well and will have few opportunities to encounter Jeor Mormont."
  
  Jon avoided direct eye contact with the crowd when they entered the common room just before supper. Uncle Benjen walked beside him with Gylles Stokeworth and Jaremy Rykker following close behind. Supper was a tense affair. Jon kept a conversation going with the three men and ignored everyone else. Nobody came up to their table but the whispers and jibes he heard all around kept his nerves on edge.
  
  The funeral pyre of his Targaryen uncle was another ordeal to get through. Jon stood as stiff as a frozen corpse, kept his head down and his face as blank a possible. He would mourn for his uncle later in private.
  
  Jeor Mormont gave a brief eulogy and left quickly after.
  
  "His name was Aemon Targaryen. He came to us from King's Landing. A Maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. At the Wall, a dozen Lord Commanders came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. And now his Watch is ended."
  
  Jon was disappointed by the short service, only a few sentences to honour a man who lived to celebrate more than a hundred namedays and served at the Wall longer than anyone else ever had. His uncle had meant so much to him and he had only known him for five years. These men had seen him daily. Many had lived with him for half of their lives or more and still they didn't stay longer than a few moments to pay their respect. He abided by his Uncle Benjen's wishes and didn't draw attention to his heritage by giving a eulogy as well. Instead he recited a tribute to his uncle in his head.
  
  Jon kept his vigil over the fire long after almost everyone had left. Uncle Benjen, Rykker and Stokeworth remained at his side. A few others did as well. Jon recognised Edd Tollet, and Pyp, the young steward he had met in his uncle's room a few times. A few unfamiliar faces Jon surmised to be former Targaryen bannermen stayed as well.
  
  Only when the fire had died down completely did Jon move for the first time. He returned to his room without uttering a word. ' And now his Watch has ended,' was his final thought before he fell asleep.
  
  The next morning, Jon braced himself when he saw Jeor Mormont rise up from his chair at the high table to address the men who had finished breaking their fast. If the Lord Commander had thought to clear the air with his announcement, he could not have been more wrong. The theory of leaving behind all political alliances was just that, a theory. You could not force the hearts of men to forget their former loyalties even if they swore before their Gods. Ninety per cent of the men were here against their will and had dedicated their lives to the Night's Watch because it was their only option to survive. Jon just had to look at the example of his own two loyal guards. Rykker and Stokeworth were sworn brothers of the Night's Watch for more than seventeen years already but were still at their very core loyal to House Targaryen.
  
  After Mormont's well-intended announcement Jon had been bombarded with questions. Would he conquer Westeros with his dragons? Did he pose a threat to the reign of the Baratheon-Lannister dynasty? Did he intend to free all Targaryen loyalists that were exiled solely based on their politics and let them return home? Jon and Benjen Stark had tried to keep their comments neutral stating that these were all matters for much later. First they had to deal with the threat beyond the Wall.
  
  Baratheon and Lannister supporters started yelling at exiled Targaryen loyalists. Neither Jeor Mormonts nor Benjen Starks attempts to silence the room had any effect. It was just a matter of time before the row escalated and people would start fighting.
  
  Fearing for his nephew's safety Benjen Stark had removed Jon from the common room with the help of Rykker and Stokeworth. Other Targaryen loyalists had followed them out. Some of them stayed behind to block the exit. In the courtyard a protective circle formed around Jon.
  
  "I do not know how to keep you safe, Jon." Benjen had been appalled by some of the threats he had overheard. One man had kept shouting ' kill the dragonspawn before he burns us all' .
  
  "My dragons will keep me safe." Jon stated in a level voice. He still reeled from shock and hardly noticed the stares of the men surrounding him when they heard him talk about dragons as if they were this common every day thing. "Is Mance Rayder still at the same settlement that Tormund Giantsbane showed us on the map?" Jon asked. Seeing his uncle's nod he announced. "I will fly over there then. I'll take my chances with the Free Folk. At least they appreciate my help."
  
  "But Jon, Ser Gerold won't like this. You will once more be without guards."
  
  "Just explain the situation here, Uncle. Where do you believe I will be safer? Here where at least half of the men hate Targaryens even if they do not know whether I am one or not. Or amongst the Free Folk who kneel before me without being asked. Send me a message when things settle down here. Promise me you will stay safe after I leave you alone here. Don't go all out defending me once I am gone. Keep up the pretence of being a neutral inbetween-man."
  
  Benjen Stark heard some commotion inside the main building and ushered Jon towards the south gate. "I believe it would be best if you called for your dragons now, Jon. Is there anything in your chambers you need to take with you?"
  
  "I would like to take the few things I brought with me, Uncle. At a minimum I need the map, some writing material, the spyglass and the small mirror. Let Rykker and Stokeworth go and gather my things. I will stay just outside the gate and let Rhaegal and Viserion make some ruckus. That should discourage the troublemakers sufficiently. The dragons are already on their way. I took the time to send my feelings their way. They know I am being threatened and are coming to keep me safe."
  
  Jon had hardly finished talking when two large shadows appeared over the courtyard. Rhaegal roared loudly and Viserion copied his brother's sound moments later.
  
  In no time Jon was ushered out of the south gate by his small circle of supporters. The men who had fought their way out of the building to get to Jon stopped in their tracks and looked at the sky with fear in their eyes. Some dropped the weapons they had at the ready and fled back inside. Uncle Benjen shook his head. Jeor Mormont would need to take things in hand and quickly.
  
  Once Jon had stepped outside of the gate, Rhaegal immediately landed next to him and lowered his shoulder. Viserion kept flying circles over the courtyard terrorising potential threats to his human. Finally Rykker passed through the gate with Benjen Stark at his side and showed them the small bag he carried containing the few items Jon had brought with him. Jon dismounted, quickly walked the distance the men had kept from the green dragon and accepted the bag. "Watch your back in there, Rykker. I appreciate all you have done for me. Now look after yourself." Jon patted him on the shoulder then he hugged his uncle whispering once more in his ear that he should take care of himself in there and walked back to Rhaegal.
  
  "Let's get your brother and find the Free Folk." Jon mounted his dragon and allowed Rhaegal to make two intimidating circles over the courtyard just to make a point to everyone, before flying north to find the King beyond the Wall.
  
  It had been easy to spot the settlement from high up. Mance Rayder had chosen to make camp in a clearing at two days march from the Wall. It made it easier for the representatives of the Free Folk to meet with the Night's Watch at short notice now that a tentative truce existed, but more importantly their looming presence kept the pressure on the Night's Watch so the Free Folk had a stronger negotiation position.
  
  Jon landed in an open spot not too far from the settlement. Lots of children and some adults came running towards his landing space but kept a respectful distance from the dragons. The moment Jon dismounted and stepped away from Rhaegal, Tormund appeared from amongst the crowd and gave him a tight hug and some forceful pats on his back. Jon explained in two sentences why he had come now instead of waiting until the formal meeting would take place.
  
  "Told you most crows are stupid fuckers." Tormund was glad to point out to his new best friend. "You are free to live with us as long as you want, Dragonrider. As I also told you before, you fit right in with us Free Folk. Wanna go hunting with me tomorrow morning? I'll bring an extra bow for you, one of my finest."
  
  Jon was still reeling from the rather painful greeting and watched his dragons fly off to find something to hunt.
  
  Not in the least deterred by his new best friend's silence, Tormund led him towards a tent in the center of the settlement. "Time to meet our King, Dragonrider."
  
  "Please Tormund, just call me Jon."
  
  "Mance, come here and meet Jon the Dragonrider and future King of the southerners." Tormund shouted loud enough for a big part of the settlement to overhear while he ushered Jon inside the tent.
  
  "And I so wanted to keep a low profile." Jon muttered under his breath.
  
  A tall man with long brown hair that had several grey streaks in it approached and greeted Jon with a nod. "So you are the skinchanger who rides a dragon and wants to become King in the South." Mance Rayder opened the dialogue in a harsh tone. He gestured to both men to take a seat.
  
  After some hesitation, Jon decided to ignore the two women who were seated in the far corner of the tent with their heads down and sat down on a heap of furs. He would follow the man's lead. Not entirely familiar with the customs of the Free Folk, he preferred not to risk antagonising Mance Rayder by addressing the women without permission. At first glance, the King Beyond the Wall was an unremarkable average-looking man of undefinable age. His eyes however betrayed intelligence and a fierce protectiveness.
  
  "It is nice to meet you, Mance Rayder. I have come here to help the Free Folk. Whatever I do or do not intend to do in the South is of no importance here. The only thing I ask in return for my service to you is for you to keep an open mind and not to antagonise the Crows unnecessarily. We must all do our best to work together to defeat the threat beyond the Wall."
  
  "So the reason you show up sennights before the official meeting is not to negotiate with us now without the presence of Benjen Stark and the Lord Commander? You are not planning to blackmail the Free Folk into helping you conquer Westeros in private and play the innocent benefactor in public at the big meeting later?" Mance had gotten up and towered over Jon during his accusation.
  
  It was Tormund who reacted first. "Mance, what the fuck!"
  
  "It is quite all right. I would act the same way if I had that many people to protect." Jon had put his hand on Tormund's arm. His eyes however never left Rayder's face.
  
  "My presence here has quite the opposite reason, I am afraid. I have come here to ask for your protection. Not all Crows are as fond of dragonriders as the Free Folk. I literally had to fly away from Castle Black to avoid being assaulted and I am seeking sanctuary." Jon tried his most disarming smile.
  
  Mance Rayder stared at the young man, not quite believing what he had just been told.
  
  "I knew the crows were stupid but not that they were dumber than a new-born baby," he finally exclaimed and sat back down.
  
  "See Tormund, you and your King are on the same page. No need to threaten the man any longer." Jon tried to sound as relaxed as possible. He needed to show no weakness if he wanted to win over the King Beyond the Wall.
  
  "Same page, what does that mean?" Tormund's eyes betrayed his confusion.
  
  Jon saw the mirth in Rayder's eyes and acknowledged it with a slight smile of his own. Then he addressed Tormund. "Just a manner speech, my friend. It means you both share the same opinion."
  
  Glad to see Mance Rayder had somewhat relaxed his stiff demeanour Jon spoke up. "Could I perhaps trouble you for a bit of food? I didn't have the inclination to eat something this morning."
  
  His plea seemed to do the trick. Mance Rayder finally gestured the two women who had been present the entire time but had not moved an inch to come closer. "My wife Dalla and her sister Val. We will talk more later."
  
  The women did not seem to mind the short introductions. "Follow us Dragonrider," Dalla smiled at him and left the tent not bothering to look back to check whether the young Dragonrider was following.
  
  Jon spent a relaxing day touring the settlement with Tormund. He reacquainted himself with a few people and was introduced to many more. Tormund pointed out the various styles of tents and introduced him to several craftsmen who were proud to show their skills to the dragonrider. At Jon's request Tormund had just introduced him as Jon the Dragonrider, leaving out the bit about a possible bid for the southern throne.
  
  That evening after Jon had shared a tasty meal around a big fire, he entertained the Free Folk with the story of Euron Greyjoy's defeat at the Stony Shore. He had to stop often to answer questions each time he used a term the Free Folk were unfamiliar with. The entire idea of a seafaring people was a new concept to the Free Folk. But mostly they wanted to hear over and over again how he controlled the dragons and he had to describe the uncommon colour of the eyes and fur of his direwolf several times.
  
  At a certain point Tormund took pity on him and helped him out by starting the story of his rescue by the Dragonrider near the Fist of the First Men and the slaying of the White Walker. The Free Folk had heard him tell this one already more than once but were spellbound to hear the joint version of Jon and Tormund. Both men made it a game of constantly interrupting the other to add more details and mocking the other's actions. The result was hilarious and everyone retired to their tents with a large smile on their faces.
  
  Before Jon retired to Tormund's tent, Mance Rayder issued an invitation to join him in his tent for a private meeting on the morrow. Jon agreed but only if he was allowed to delay the meeting until after a morning hunt with Tormund. He apologised but said he wanted to honour the prior agreement. Mance just laughed and answered that knowing Tormund he would not expect Jon before the sun had reached its peak.
  
  During the short walk to Tormund's tent Jon politely declined several offers of young women who wanted to share his furs. Tormund had come to his rescue once more by shoeing the more obstinate ones away proclaiming loudly that the Dragonrider needed his rest this night.
  
  "The next night," Tormund had laughed throwing his arm around Jon's shoulder, "all bets are off and you will need to fend for yourself."
  
  Although Jon felt right at home with the Free Folk and he had enjoyed this day immensely he did not fall asleep immediately. He kept seeing the lonely funeral pyre of his great-great-uncle and wondered about the purpose of a man's life. He once more regretted that Daenerys would never get to meet the wise and kind man Aemon Targaryen had been. He checked in on his dragons but felt they at least were sound asleep. He wondered how Ghost was doing. He hoped to see his direwolf soon. If all went well the ship carrying Ghost, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor would arrive at the Bay of Ice in a sennight. He would ask his direwolf to join him at the Free Folk settlement and was sure the wolf would reach him before Davos and company would have travelled half the distance of their journey to Castle Black. Somehow the thought of showing his direwolf to the Free Folk made him relaxed enough to fall asleep.
  
  Jon had spent an enjoyable morning with the big red haired man. However different their personalities, they interacted as if they had been best friends for several years instead of knowing each other for no more than a few days. Jon figured meeting each other under the threat of death had established an unconditional trust between the two of them at such a short acquaintance.
  
  Tormund asked for Mance Rayder's permission to be present during ' the meeting of Kings' . Jon nodded slightly toward Mance Rayder when the man's eyes asked the silent question and the three men sat down ready to start their meeting.
  
  Jon started by unfolding the map of the North whilst explaining he wanted to do some scouting before the official meeting with the Night's Watch so they could talk concrete strategies instead of doing not much more than quarrelling over vague theories.
  
  "See these crosses? They mark the places that I saw the remaining wights when they fled after their defeat. I also marked a few locations where I spotted other groups of wights when I scouted a vast area over the next two days. The small arrows point at the direction they were moving in. Do you have any idea what that central point is where they are all moving towards?"
  
  Mance Rayder studied the map at length. "I have no idea. But then I have never ventured that far north. I will put this before the representatives of the clans. Perhaps a few of them have ventured closer to that area at some point in time."
  
  "Do you have a useful suggestion on where best to start scouting or do I just divide this territory in several squares and search them systematically?"
  
  "Again, I am afraid I am not going to be a big help here. So do your thing. You are best placed to determine how wide an area you can adequately search in one session."
  
  "If I may ask, what measures do you take to protect the woman and children during an attack?" Jon estimated women, children and elderly made up almost seventy per cent of the population at this settlement.
  
  "You mean small children, pregnant women and sick people." Mance Rayder specified. "The rest of them all fight. I thought Tormund told you our spearwives are feared by many men here?"
  
  "Even if I cross the spearwives and elder children from this list, you still need to answer my question. How do you protect those amongst your people that are too young, too pregnant, or otherwise unable to fight?" Jon's tone indicated he wanted a clear-cut answer.
  
  "There is not much we can do except put them in the middle of our settlement and try not to let those dead creatures breach our perimeter. Do you have a better idea coming here so high and mighty with your dragons?" Mance Rayder sounded as if he had taken Jon's words as criticism of his ability to protecting his people. "We do not have those fancy stone walls to put our people behind that you have in the south."
  
  "He's just here to help, Mance. It does no harm to listen to his ideas. You don't need to carry them out if you do not fucking want to." Tormund tried to keep the peace between the two.
  
  "I have an advantage at my disposal, whether you like it or not. My dragons can give us this advantage. Aside from analysing the entire enemy's position from high up and setting things afire, they can for example melt vast quantities of ice. When I followed the ones who were fleeing from us, I noticed they circled around a small pond. One of them fell in and never resurfaced. That is a weakness we can use to protect your families. If you know of a large frozen pond, we can for example put your children, elderly and anyone who isn't fit to fight in the middle. My dragons can melt the borders of the lake and no wight will be able to reach them while we engage the enemy."
  
  Mance looked thoughtful. "That could be helpful for a small attack on a single settlement. However we are intending to gather all the clans of the Free Folk in one place in order to have an army of more than a hundred thousand strong to make our stand. Your icy pond would not be large enough to safeguard all our weak. Or something worse could happen. The ice could crack under the combined weight and my people would all drown."
  
  "There is another option." Jon started.
  
  Tormund was getting excited and didn't let Jon finish. "Yes, lure the fuckers on the pond and then melt the ice so they are encircled by water. Once they are sitting ducks your fire beasts can burn them all."
  
  Mance noticed Jon's expression and knew the young man had meant another possibility to protect his people. He told Tormund that his idea was an excellent strategy to attack but for now they were talking about protecting their children, pregnant women and elderly. He encouraged Jon to finish his previous sentence. His demeanour showing without needing to say it out loud that he had changed his mind and was not too proud to accept help that was so freely offered if it meant saving the lives of his people.
  
  Jon hesitated not knowing how the Free Folk would react to being forced on floating death traps as they had called the ships of the Ironborn the previous night. He would need to choose his words carefully.
  
  "I have at least twenty five ships that are on their way to the Bay of Ice and can provide temporary shelter. Fifty or so will soon reach the eastern shores near Eastwatch. They could shelter your most vulnerable members when the need arises. The ships can anchor just far enough from the shore to keep out of range of enemy arrows and spears. The Free Folk would only need to board them when the enemy is close by and if they are reluctant, perhaps they can be persuaded if you tell them they need only stay on them as long as it is dark outside."
  
  Mance Rayder looked at Jon, astonishment and disbelief clearly visible on his face. "You would go to such trouble just to help us and want to make me believe that you have no ulterior motive? I know enough of your southern ways to understand that such a large scale operation must cost you a fortune."
  
  "I have more than one motive, Rayder. " Jon tried to stay patient and keep in mind that for centuries the Free Folk had had to defend themselves from the Night's Watch and the people south of the Wall and therefore considered every outsider with mistrust. "I do not like to see innocents being slaughtered. Certainly not when I have these two powerful weapons to prevent it from happening. I would not be able to sleep at night. But perhaps the motive that might convince you is the following: If I do nothing and let the White Walkers enlist all of you in their army, Westeros won't stand a chance once hundreds of thousands of wights break through the Wall. By protecting you, I am protecting Westeros." Jon took a deep breath and waited for a reaction.
  
  When nothing was forthcoming he tried once more. "Isn't it better to combine our forces and lead them into a trap? If we are lucky we still have enough resources and superior numbers to fight them off. But if we squabble amongst ourselves and let them grow their army, slowly but surely the situation will reach a point where the remaining Free Folk will no longer stand a chance. We are all on the same side, Free Folk, Crows and Southerners because we have one thing in common. We are still breathing. This is a war of the living against the dead."
  
  Tormund had tried to stay out of it for a while but reckoned it was time to intervene. He simply declared. "I am with Jon." Then he stood up and filled two cups of ale, handing one to Jon. "How about it Mance? Will you toast with us?"
  
  Although Jon hadn't noticed Mance reacting in any way, Tormund acted as if the man had come around. The big red man started filling a third cup. He handed it to his King and then raised his own. "To the living!" He shouted and proceeded to clash the other raised cups not minding the liquid that spilled on the ground. "Bottoms up! All that talking has given me a dry throat."
  
  "As if you did any talking." Mance answered Tormund with a dry sense of humour. He had visibly relaxed and now repeated the toast looking Jon in the eyes. "To the living." He drank until his cup was empty.
  
  Jon did the same although the ale was not really that tasteful.
  
  "I might have some good news for you." Jon declared, arousing the interest of Mance Rayder. "Are you still interested in obtaining dragonglass?"
  
  "Dragonglass? Do you mean those volcanic daggers were made by dragons?" Tormund asked his voice sounding eager. "Can you ask them to make some more for us?"
  
  "No Tormund, I am sorry to disappoint you. My dragons cannot create this glass. However, we found a cave in Westeros with an indefinite supply. If all is well, my people are mining it as we speak. The only obstacle is the distance. As soon as I hear from my people, I will fly over there to bring some of it to the Wall. I have also arranged for a blacksmith to melt it into arrowheads and spearpoints. That way we can arm plenty of people with the first limited supply. If we can stall the main confrontation with the enemy long enough, a ship will arrive that will carry plenty more."
  
  "Do you hear that, Mance? And you distrust the man for fuck's sake. He has put all of that shit in motion in just the few days that have passed since he rescued our sorry asses. Hell of a friend I made here, don't you fucking think so as well? It is high time you declared him a friend of the Free Folk and stopped mistrusting him at every damned turn. He is a Dragonrider who controls two dragons. He has in his possession a magic sword that makes those White Walkers explode in fucking ice crystals and will bring us more of that useful glass than you ever imagined possible. What more do you need to start treating him with respect. I told you how we all kneeled before him even the Magnar of the Thenns and it felt right. Wait until you see his enormous dragons rein fire on the dead bastards."
  
  Mance looked at Jon who just shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. "No need to kneel, but a bit of trust would be highly appreciated."
  
  "How old are you, if you do not mind my asking? You look hardly more than a boy but already you have accomplished more in a few sennights than all of us experienced fuckers have realised in years." For the first time Mance started to believe they had a chance to defeat the White Walkers and their army of wights and he could perhaps let go of his initial plan of storming Castle Black and escaping south of the Wall with his people if negotiations failed. He realised all too well that the Free Folk didn't really want to live south of the Wall.
  
  Jon hated the blush that rose in his cheeks. It would make him look even more like a green boy. "I am seventeen but have lived no ordinary life, Rayder. I was groomed to become a leader before I even knew what that word meant. I can count on a lot of support and have several honourable, wise, experienced men to advise and guide me."
  
  "Well as far as I can tell, they are not around now and you sure are acting all decisive and competent. And I may be wrong but it sounds to me that most of the plans you have laid out before us are your own ideas and not something others are forcing upon you. Your demeanour is very revealing young one."
  
  Jon just smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment. He noticed Tormund was busy filling their cups once more.
  
  "Let's toast once more and get our lazy arses outside. I am in great need of some pussy. I intend to have plenty of fun before the fucking war starts." Tormund handed Jon his pint and put his arm around Jon's shoulder. "Come on Dragonrider, time to relax."
  
  Jon stalled him for a moment. "There is still one favour I need to ask of you, Rayder."
  
  "Call me Mance. I think you have earned it. What is it you would like me to do for you?"
  
  Finally a question of his was not met with immediate distrust, Jon noticed.
  
  "I would like to send a message to my Uncle Benjen Stark at Castle Black. He can forward it to my entourage as soon as my fleet reaches the Bay of Ice. I had thought to ask Orell to help me but I haven't seen him around."
  
  Tormund spoke up before Mance got a chance to answer. "I have sent word to his clan to let him know you are here. I am confident he will arrive as soon as he can."
  
  "There is no other way to convey a message?" Jon asked.
  
  "I thought you were a skinchanger yourself." Mance interjected. "We have some birds in captivity. You only need to fly them to the wall."
  
  Jon looked at Tormund a question in his eyes.
  
  "I will stay by your side Dragonrider and guard your skinny back and your magical sword while you do your warg thing and are as vulnerable as a sleeping baby."
  
  "Thanks, Tormund. I would certainly appreciate that. I just have to scribble some words and send the bird on its way. I hope you do not mind postponing your time with the ladies to help me?"
  
  "The women will still be yearning for my big cock after I am done protecting Jon the Dragonrider. Come on let's get to it."
  
  As it happened Jon had an excellent reason not to accompany Tormund on his quest for sexual satisfaction. Not that he censured Tormund. The mother of Tormund's children had passed away and the Free Folk had no strict rules on sexual encounters as long as both parties consented. Often the women made the first move and chose their partner. Usually once a child was born, the two parents bonded over the care of their offspring and in most cases stayed loyal to one another.
  
  Orell had arrived during Jon's warging session and Jon had been happy to use the serendipitous timing as an acceptable excuse to abandon Tormund for the afternoon and most probably also evening entertainment of his choosing.
  
  Jon and Orell quickly got reacquainted and walked out of the camp to install themselves in a secluded spot not far from the place were Jon's dragons were slumbering. Both wargs shared experiences. Jon was grateful for the useful flying tips Orell gave him. The older man had been soaring through the sky for decades and taught Jon several ways of using the naturally occurring currents of rising air in the atmosphere to remain airborne. Orell described to an eager pupil how to recognise these so-called thermal columns which simply put were clouds of air that were ascending and that could lift you up with them so you saved energy if you guided a raven, an eagle and possibly also a dragon if you were really high up in the air. The higher you got, he explained, the larger and more powerful these thermal columns got.
  
  They had spent the rest of the day while it was still light out alternating between Orell showcasing this technique and Jon trying to mimic this first with a small bird and later on with Rhaegal. Viserion had played along and both dragons had enjoyed this playful moment with their human. After dark, Jon had described the mental exercises he had repeated daily as a young boy to develop his warging skills. Most of them Orell could perform without conscious effort. A few others demanded more of his concentration and he told Jon he would try to master these over time. Orell thanked Jon and told him his input would certainly help him to teach warging in a more structured way to young children that showed their first signs of this ability.
  
  The next evening when Jon returned from his first all day scouting mission, Rykker and Stokeworth were waiting for him at the settlement with a message from Uncle Benjen about the situation at Castle Black and one from Davos written the moment the ships had arrived at Bear Island.
  
  Interlude 17: More visitors for Lord Reed
  
  Prince Oberyn Martel stood at the prearranged meeting place in the Neck. It had gradually been getting colder the further he travelled. Today was a sunless day but at the edge of the swamp the air felt oppressive. Oberyn removed the heavy cloak he had brought along for this visit to the far North. His daughter had done so earlier and was scanning the landscape impatient to get going. Howland Reed however had warned them not to traipse through the bogs of the Neck on their own but to wait for the guide he would send them.
  
  Three figures finally appeared from between the green reeds. The man in the lead was clearly the guide, his short stature and green attire identified him as a crannogman. Oberyn didn't recognise the two other men the guide was escorting out of the swamp. He saw they were staring him down as well. The guide however led them straight to a stable that Oberyn hadn't realised was there before. Next thing he saw was the two men swiftly riding off in the direction of the Kingsroad.
  
  Now it was their turn to leave their horses behind and navigate the small winding paths through the swamps of the Neck. But Prince Oberyn paid neither the dangerous road nor the tricky weather conditions much mind. He was looking forward to finally meeting the famous greenseer that had helped him play cat and mouse with Littlefinger over the years and win almost every game.
  
  "Did you know I heard the most amazing rumour while travelling across the Riverlands?" Oberyn directed his question at his host. They had arrived earlier that day and after a reinvigorating bath and some rest they were now being served a hot meal in the presence of their host.
  
  At first he had been disappointed when a small lean man had introduced himself as Lord Howland Reed. However Oberyn had needed just a short time in his company to get drawn in by the strange eyes and enigmatic demeanour of the crannogman.
  
  He noticed Howland Reed deliberating before he answered him. "I do not suppose you mean the dragon sightings, Prince Oberyn?"
  
  Oberyn caught his host studying Nymeria's reaction. "My daughter is aware of my actions, Lord Reed. She wants to swear her sword to Lord Celtigar if he allows it."
  
  Nymeria raised her head and looked at her father. "Actually, my spear would be more accurate. And I need to meet the famed man first before making my final decision, as I have told you several times already, Father."
  
  "I believe you were about to tell me an entertaining rumour?" Howland Reed brought the conversation back on track.
  
  "Indeed. Imagine my surprise when one of the mousy Freys I encountered in a tavern was talking about Eddard Stark and how he was not the rightful heir to Winterfell." Oberyn paused driving up the suspense.
  
  "A mousy Frey, you say?" Lord Reed played along.
  
  "I forgot his name. They all have that same drab insignificant face. But never mind the messenger. It was his message that drew the attention of several drunkards. Rumour has it that Eddard Stark's elder brother, Brandon Stark sired a trueborn son, though some versions of the story claim he is a bastard which allegedly explains why he is not the current Lord of Winterfell. Anyway, this supposed son of Brandon Stark senior I was told is a fierce warrior and apparently led the defense at the Stony Shore when at least two hundred Ironborn ships attacked there." Oberyn's eyes twinkled now.
  
  Howland Reed had read the report from a dismayed and rather upset Ser Gerold and had been vastly amused himself by the erroneous reasoning that had resulted in such an outlandish rumour. He had written back to Ser Gerold reassuring the man that nothing would come of it and to just move on and forget he ever heard it. He focused his attention back on Prince Oberyn when he asked him. "How did you react to that?"
  
  "I told them I only heard rumours of dragons. And then I proceeded to ask him in my most serious voice if they were sure they were talking about a man or a dragon, since I was fairly sure that I had heard tell that it was a dragon that had single-handedly defeated the Ironborn fleet at the Stony Shore." Oberyn grinned.
  
  "That is not a joke, Prince Oberyn. A man from a certain bloodline is sometimes referred to as a dragon. You could have put the idea in their heads. And what once started as a ridiculous rumour could get a smart man to think twice and come up with an answer very near to the truth."
  
  "Not if you put other ideas in the heads of drunkards and simple-minded Freys." Oberyn countered. "They immediately corrected me stating there was only one dragon flying around and that it belonged to the Golden Company not knowing that it was my daughter Nymeria and myself that had started that rumour before in other taverns." His smile turned smug when he stopped talking.
  
  "I am not too humble to accept praise for my efficient rumour spreading skills.
  
  "He also told the Freys that the Ironborn were gone and would not be back for a long time. You should have seen the stricken look on their mousy faces." Nymeria Sand added to her father's tale.
  
  "Our journey through the Riverlands has been fruitful. We have thwarted several schemes. Helped sensitive information reach Riverrun and put the fear of repercussion by Houses Tully and Stark in the minds of many servants of House Frey and every single descendent of Walder Frey we happened to encounter. I thoroughly enjoyed starting the rumour that House Bolton had reconciled with House Stark on the occasion of the impending royal visit and that they were considering retaliating against the traitors of House Tully that were by extension traitors to House Stark. I told them they should watch their skin very carefully because the Boltons liked making coats of it."
  
  "I doubt that Walder Frey will fall for that." Howland Reed interjected.
  
  "Maybe not, but a bit of doubt can cripple a man." Oberyn countered. "I lost nothing by trying. Rumours will come at him from all sides. My beautiful daughter is very skilled at infiltrating all kinds of places and planting ideas into other people's minds."
  
  Nymeria just smiled and concentrated on eating her food. Her father however was enjoying himself immensely.
  
  "Perhaps I forgot to mention that I also spoke to them about how Littlefinger has lost the ear of the King? That piece of gossip is certain to affect Walder Frey. He will be even more willing to believe it since we intercepted a messenger by accident, shared his evening meal and sent the man on his way with a lighter saddle bag than before."
  
  "Do you mean you stole his messages?" Howland Reed clearly liked were all of this was going.
  
  "Indeed, if you would like to read a nice bedtime story, I can give you the latest scrolls Littlefinger has written but that will unfortunately never find their way into the hands of Walder Frey. I did have some compassion for the lonely man though and saw to it he still received one nice letter, only with a slightly different content."
  
  "I hesitate to ask." Howland Reeds green eyes twinkled now.
  
  "Oh, I was not so very naughty. It only mentioned that the previously agreed to scheme was delayed due to unforeseen troubles with the Ironborn and that Littlefinger needed to re-establish his political position due to the appointment of a new Hand of the King before deciding which allies he still needs for his self-preservation."
  
  "So Walder Frey thinks his support is being withdrawn for the time being, perhaps even indefinitely." Oberyn saw Howland Reed starting to believe that his actions would have a significant impact.
  
  "I did as much as I could. While at Riverrun, I asked Lord Tully to send men throughout the Riverlands to try and shoot down all ravens headed for or leaving the Twins. You know and I know that Walder Frey will not take on House Tully without external support. He is too much of a coward. It may well be that my daughter and I have done just enough to stave off this crisis. Do you think I may expect a thank you letter from Eddard Stark if we can get these scrolls into his hands?"
  
  "Well, you are heading north and I am travelling to Winterfell as well. If we time it right, we can intercept Lord Stark just west of White Harbour and hand them to him personally."
  
  "This journey gets better and better." Oberyn filled his cup of wine again and raise it. "To a swift and peaceful outcome."
  
  "I'll drink to that. I think I can make your visit to Greywater Watch even more worth your while." Howard Reed drank from his cup his eyes not leaving Oberyn's face.
  
  "Do tell. Ever since I encountered Benjen Stark all these years ago, my life has been one amazing adventure. I am open for anything you conspirators can come up with."
  
  "Well I think both of you will like this surprise. I wonder if I should spoil it by telling you what it is beforehand." He enjoyed duelling with words with his exotic guest.
  
  "Have we not done enough to earn a small reward?" Oberyn tried to persuade his host.
  
  "Well, I am expecting another visitor soon. I presume he will be arriving in three or four days and will stay just the one night. We should leave the next day anyway to intercept Lord Stark. That is if you are planning on joining me on a big part of your journey north.
  
  "Everyone told me you lived here rather isolated and I believed them. That's five visitors back to back. May I ask who the two callers that our guide escorted safely out of the swamps this morning were?" Oberyn was sure he never had seen the two men before and was curious to know whether these were fellow conspirators.
  
  "Those two were surprise visitors to me as well. Have you never in all your travels come across Lord Beric of House Dondarrion or Thoros of Myr a red priest?"
  
  "Not in person. I know of the priest's reputation." Prince Oberyn looked intrigued.
  
  "Don't we all." Lord Reed remarked drily.
  
  "Father, you haven't given Lord Reed the chance to tell us what visitor he is expecting three or four days from now." Nymeria had never heard of the two men before and Lord Reed had piqued her interest with the mysterious way in which he had announced his future visitor. "A nice surprise I think you promised us, Lord Reed?"
  
  "Well only if you have never met a dragonrider before." Oberyn watched Lord Reed trying to suppress a big grin but fail. Then his words registered.
  
  "Jon? Jon is coming here? Are you certain! Oh the Gods be praised. I have been counting the moons that separated me from laying eyes on that dear boy again. Letters just are not enough to do a relationship like ours justice."
  
  "Better not call him boy. Ser Gerold's letters tell me of a Prince bossing him around. Can you picture that? I am very eager to see the dear boy as well."
  
  "As am I. Father told me he has the most adoring black curls and could pass for a girl when he counted eleven namedays." Nymeria looked like a kid who had been given the nameday present she most wanted to receive.
  
  "I didn't say it like that exactly." Oberyn defended his erstwhile description of Jon. "I said his curls would look lovely on a girl's head. That's something entirely different. Do not go blabbering what you just said to Jon. That boy likes me and I'd like to keep it that way." The mirth shone from his eyes though.
  
  "Well, let us hope our Prince doesn't get delayed and we can all enjoy his company for a day." Howland Reed's tone implied that subject was closed for now.
  
  Not long after everyone retired after Lord Reed promised them an extensive tour of his domain the next day.
  
  Four days later, all eyes in the courtyard of Greywater Watch were trained on the northern sky. The weather hadn't changed and it was still cloudy and humid in the swamps. Nymeria was the first to point out two black spots appearing beneath the clouds. Sure enough, not long after Jon carefully landed Rhaegal in the training yard where he had fond memories of sword-fighting sessions with his Kingsguard and Robb.
  
  Lord Reed told everyone to stay back. As soon as Jon dismounted, Rhaegal joined his brother who circled over the courtyard and both of them flew off in the direction of the Godswood.
  
  Jon immediately sought out Lord Reed and embraced his former foster father not paying attention to the two figures behind him. "I am so glad I finally found the opportunity to come and see you. It has been too long."
  
  "It has indeed. You have grown into a fine young man but your letters and the messages I got from your circle of advisers and protectors made me expect no less. We'll reminisce later, first let me introduce you to two of my guests who claim they single-handedly averted the crisis in the Riverlands."
  
  "Prince Oberyn!" Jon exclaimed and then remembered his manners. He bowed his head slightly. "Greetings. What a happy coincidence. You are looking well as ever. I really hope we have time to catch up and perhaps a sparring session?" Jon eye's twinkled. "And this lovely young lady I presume is your daughter, Nymeria Sand?"
  
  "What's with the formalities? Come here." Oberyn swallowed to words 'my boy' just in time, took the last step separating him from the Targaryen Prince and gave him a short but welcome hug.
  
  Nymeria made a curtsy. Jon smiled and acknowledged her gesture with a slight nod. "I have not heard that much about you, my Lady. Just that you and your sisters are beautiful and at the same time fierce fighters. I can already tell the first compliment is the absolute truth as far as you are concerned. The second one you could show me by assenting to a short sparring session later? I would very much like your help to persuade your father to join us so I have a chance to cross his spear again now that I have grown up some."
  
  Nymeria looked at her father. "You need to be persuaded to enter a fight? Since when?"
  
  Oberyn just laughed. "Come one, if Howland Reed told true, this young man flew a long way. Let us all go inside and take some refreshments first. If that is all right with you, Lord Reed?" Oberyn remembered just in time he was not the host here.
  
  They spent a lovely afternoon reminiscing, had a short sparring session where Jon bested them all which made Oberyn sigh in resignation, Nymeria determined to train harder and Lord Reed very proud. That evening they discussed politics over supper.
  
  Since Jon was set to leave right before dawn he said goodbye to Prince Oberyn and his daughter at the dinner table. He wished them a safe journey north and promised them that he would be waiting for them at the Wall. He told them he already looked forward to introducing them to the Free Folk.
  
  Nymeria saw him leave with regret in her eyes. She had tried to give him subtle hints but the handsome Targaryen Prince had skillfully evaded every seductive gesture she had made. Her father had warned her beforehand that the Prince was a rather responsible youth who would not take a girl to bed just for the fun of it. All the same, she had hoped her father had it wrong or that she could turn out to be the exception.
  
  Howland Reed intercepted Jon before he could enter his room that night and told him there still were some things he needed to discuss with him. Once behind closed doors, he started by telling Jon about the strange encounter with Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion and how these two new allies were travelling to the Stormlands to assess the situation there. They would also try to counteract the influence a red priestess was rumoured to have over Lord Stannis Baratheon.
  
  They briefly discussed Jon's troubles with Jeor Mormont. Howland Reed however promised him that everything would work itself out. He had felt it prominently in a green dream that ended with a strange prophesy. 'Lion trumps bear without either one using their claws.' Because of the feeling associated with this dream Howland Reed feared that Jeor Mormont's days as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch were numbered.
  
  Jon brought up the subject of Bran's almost fall and of his emerging warging abilities.
  
  "I wondered if you would be up to fostering another boy, Lord Reed. I think Bran has the potential to become a powerful warg. I planted the idea of sending him here in Lord Stark's mind. I hope I did not overstep." Jon added that last bit just to be polite but he was fairly sure his former foster-father would take to Bran as quickly as he had once taken to a small orphan from the Driftmark.
  
  Lord Reed assured him he would feel honoured to guide the young Stark and then changed the subject without revealing that that was the actual reason why he was headed north anyway. He asked Jon once more how fast he could fly and also to tell him in detail how tiring the journey had been from Castle Black to Winterfell and from Winterfell to Greywater Watch. Jon just looked at him with knowing eyes and revealed that he already intended to make a stop of one or two days at the Vale before flying to the Driftmark to complete his initial mission of picking up a small amount of dragonglass.
  
  Howland Reed was astonished but relieved and together they discussed the best strategies to deal with the situation at the Vale. When they were finally ready to retire, Lord Reed promised him he would be up early enough to see him off. He didn't envy the Targaryen Prince who had to take so much upon himself. He could only pray to the Old Gods each night to keep the Prince Who Was Promised safe.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon reunites with Davos, Ser Gerold, Gendry and last but not least Ghost. Our Dragonrider does a lot of traveling though.
  
  The interlude features Jon as well, this time at the Vale.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A stubborn bear
  Chapter 18: A stubborn bear
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon reunites with Davos, Ser Arthur, Sandor, Gendry and last but not least Ghost. He does a lot of traveling though.
  
  The interlude features Jon as well, this time at the Vale.
  
  Notes:
  
  I dedicate this chapter and especially the character of Donal Noye to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr.
  
  Not only does she help me with spelling and grammar but she also gives me excellent suggestions due to her 'nerdish' knowledge of the ASoIaF universe.
  
  Jon was glad Rykker and Stokeworth had taken the trouble to come all the way from Castle Black to bring him a scroll Davos Seaworth sent from Bear Island. However much he wanted to make his own decisions, he relied on all of their council and guidance to be sure he looked at every angle. Most of all he missed their company. To Jon it felt as if they were a close-knit community almost like a family. The three knights had been his constant companions ever since he was born. Davos had been with him from around his twelfth nameday and Jon had come to rely on his presence. Each time away from them it felt like he was missing a part of himself. He liked Gendry's quiet unassuming personality and Ghost was a part of himself. He had felt the direwolf's presence in his dreams last night and had felt they were getting closer.
  
  The message from uncle Benjen he accepted with trepidation fearing its content. He hadn't asked the two men what the situation at the Wall was like when they left there and they didn't volunteer the information.
  
  He thanked Rykker and Stokeworth for coming all this way and walked with them to the side of the camp where food and drinks could be found. A group of young women were preparing the meal for that evening. It took only a big smile and a few kind words and they were only too willing to give the handsome Dragonrider a large enough portion for his newly arrived company. They installed themselves around a small fire in front of the tent where Jon slept. He let the two men eat but didn't partake himself. He was eager to open the messages. The contents of Davos' scroll did not disappoint.
  
  Davos wrote that the three ships had arrived at Bear Island in good order. He estimated that the extra twenty five ships would be ready to depart with them in two days' time. They found a larger fleet of ships docked in the harbour than expected. The people of Bear Island had not stopped building ships when the twenty five commissioned by the Warden of the North were ready. They had used the new shipbuilding site to construct their own fleet. As a consequence, Davos wasn't obliged to leave a small part of Jon's fleet behind. The Mormonts of Bear Island were even willing to lend them some of their own vessels should the need arise. Lady Dacey of House Mormont had received a raven from the Warden of the North, describing the situation at the Wall. She was very willing to assist the Night's Watch and everyone helping them by extension. Davos estimated they would arrive with twenty eight ships, three days after they set sail from Bear Island.
  
  Davos expressed his hopes in the message that Jon would meet them there as soon as his ships had thrown anchor. Since it had taken Rykker and Stokeworth two days to reach him, Jon estimated he could meet up with them three days from now.
  
  He steeled himself before he opened uncle Benjen's message. The situation at Castle Black was still rather chaotic. Jeor Mormont tried to keep order by punishing the men harshly for the slightest brawl. As a consequence a tense atmosphere hung over the stronghold and people formed little camps silently staring each other down. Everybody was on edge. Uncle Benjen urged Jon to keep Stokeworth and Rykker with him. He worried for their safety since everyone knew they had been assigned to protect the dragonrider. He asked Jon to keep himself safe and hoped that they would see each other soon. If the situation at Castle Black didn't improve soon, he would join his nephew at the Free Folk settlement. Jon put the scroll down and wondered why he was so disheartened since the message contained exactly what he had expected it would.
  
  No longer eager to start scouting, Jon entered his tent and prepared a response that he planned to guide himself to Davos' ship. Since Rykker and Stokeworth were exhausted when they arrived, probably due to taking turns at night watching over the other in the hostile environment that now was Castle Black, Jon ordered both of them to take some rest without delay. He promised them he would spend the afternoon in the woods with his dragons. He figured now was not the time to explain to them what happened when he needed to steer a bird during a long flight. He opted not to find someone to look after him during this warg session. He was confident that his dragons would watch over him while he steered the raven. They would form a protective circle around him and he would be quite safe.
  
  Jon loved spending time with Rhaegal and Viserion. His bond with his dragons had only grown more intense. These last few days, they had spent every moment of daylight together and the first part of the night as well, scouting and playing in the air. As far as Jon could tell by the territory he had covered on his first reconnaissance flights, the enemy was gathering in the far north. Just a small band of seemingly lost wights accompanied by one White Walker were wandering from the Antler River in the direction of Craster's Keep. At the slow pace they were moving and taking into account that they were travelling only after dark, it would take them some time before they arrived at their supposed destination.
  
  Jon was getting better at guiding birds. He had Orell to thank for that. It had been fun to surprise Davos by landing on his shoulder. He had witnessed the man's face light up when he read Jon's response. Since no return message was necessary, Jon had released the bird's mind. He had stayed with his dragons a bit longer before heading back to the Free Folk settlement. There he learned that Tormund had assigned him his own tent which was large enough to accommodate him and his newly arrived guards.
  
  The next morning, Jon urged Rykker to return to Castle Black with a message for his uncle. Jon had marked a map with the results of his scouting missions. Jaremy Rykker had refused to leave his side and had sent Stokeworth instead. However Rykker didn't see much of Jon during daytime. They saw each other mostly after dusk when Jon aborted his scouting missions. The day the ships were due to arrive, Jon left Rykker behind at the Free Folk settlement and flew to the Bay of Ice to meet up with his entourage.
  
  Jon found himself at the shore way too early and mounted Rhaegal once more to fly out over the sea and exchange early greetings with everyone from above.
  
  The fleet of twenty eight ships formed an impressive sight. For the moment they flew banners of Houses Stark, Mormont and Manderly. The large sails were devoid of a sigil for now. He had felt Ghost before he saw him and had let the wolf express his joy to feel his human so nearby and sent his own in return.
  
  Ghost was the first one off the boat. He put his front legs on Jon's shoulders and slobbered all over him. When the rest approached, Jon had to wipe his face clean before greeting them. They all seemed relieved to see him safe and sound but were disheartened when they heard what had happened at Castle Black. Ser Arthur was muttering something to Sandor who agreed wholeheartedly. Jon almost felt sorry for the men of the Night's Watch. These two were obviously planning some sort of retaliation.
  
  "And you just left your uncle Benjen behind and fled to the Free Folk?" Davos didn't like what he was hearing at all.
  
  "Don't worry about me, Davos. I couldn't have received a warmer welcome at the Free Folk settlement. All these things they tell us south of the Wall about the so-called Wildlings are false. Granted most of them are illiterate and have rather rough manners. Though what really matters is that they are straightforward and have as much honour as any of us. Not only did they immediately believe I am on their side, they treat me as one of them. I have enjoyed living with the Free Folk despite the fact that I have been spending most of my time scouting high up in the air. The evenings are very entertaining."
  
  Jon went on and described the cosy gatherings around a bonfire, the hunt he had been on with Tormund Giantsbane and how he had learned a thing or two from a fellow warg.
  
  Nevertheless Davos convinced Jon not to return to the Free Folk settlement for now but to accompany them on the journey overland to Castle Black. Jon agreed sensing it would benefit everyone to spend some time together and to reassure Uncle Benjen in person of his well-being. As soon as they started their journey, he had climbed on the wagon and guided a bird to Jaremy Rykker at the Free Folk settlement to explain his prolonged absence. Rykker had startled when a bird entered his tent. Luckily the man had spotted the message and Jon could rest assured now that the Free Folk would not worry about the Dragonrider leaving them to fend for themselves. In the message he asked Rykker to stay put for now. If the situation at Castle Black was untenable Jon would join him at the settlement in no time.
  
  When he came out of the warg session, he mounted the horse they had brought along for him. Sandor and Ser Arthur flanked their Prince at all times although often Ghost would fight them for Jon's personal space. Gendry hardly got a chance to talk to Jon. Both young men rectified this situation by sharing a tent at night. They enjoyed a long conversation before they let sleep overtake them that first night.
  
  Jon eased the journey considerably by asking his dragons to help them cross several obstacles they encountered on their path. Rhaegal and Viserion cleared the road a few times by melting heaps of snow where avalanches had buried part of their path. Sometimes his dragons even nudged rocks aside so the wagon had more room to manoeuvre. They made good time and reached Castle Black in less than five days.
  
  Davos was determined to have a word with the Lord Commander first thing. Even if one respected the political neutrality of the Night's Watch, Jon was still the nephew and under the protection of the Warden of the North. If Jeor Mormont could not keep his men under control, perhaps a change in command was in order? Davos would get to the bottom of this situation and even though Jon did not want to burden Eddard Stark with another problem during the royal visit, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor were of a different opinion. All three agreed that Jon's safety was of the utmost importance and they were certain that Lord Stark would want to be informed. Davos was fully aware that even though he could try to reason with Mormont, it was the Warden of the North who could exert real pressure on the Lord Commander.
  
  However, when they entered the gates of Castle Black, they found Cotter Pyke in charge. It was Gylles Stokeworth that welcomed them and immediately informed them that Jeor Mormont had left to deal with the dead that were heading for Craster's Keep. Apparently Benjen Stark had tried to placate the man by sharing with him the scouting information Jon had diligently sent to his uncle. Hearing of the contingent of the enemy heading in the direction of Craster's Keep, the Lord Commander had decided to re-establish morale by giving his men a chance to prove the Night's Watch could defend themselves against this army of the dead led by alleged White Walkers. He had left Castle Black with the largest party to ever range beyond the Wall on a single mission.
  
  "I am so glad that you did not decide to join them this time, Uncle Benjen." Jon told his Stark uncle when the man pulled his him into a hug as soon as he saw him enter the room. "Gylles Stokeworth had told them that they could find Benjen Stark in the west tower where he was writing some messages. The Targaryen loyalist had then left them to inform the temporary Lord Commander that he was resuming the task that Jeor Mormont had assigned him. He would once more see to the needs of the visitors that were sent by the Warden of the North.
  
  "I did not want to leave you alone, Nephew. You have a tendency to attract trouble at the Wall and an expedition with that many men could take moons. I am glad to see you return with decent protection this time. By the way, thank you very much for sending a message so soon after leaving here. I was relieved to read your description of the welcome you received from the Free Folk and their King Beyond the Wall. When everything has settled in the realm and you find the time, you should rectify the history books and send your version of the customs and lore of the Free Folk to the Citadel."
  
  "Dammit!" Davos' exclamation made all eyes turn to him.
  
  "Something the matter, Davos?" Jon asked surprised to hear the man swear out loud.
  
  "You do understand the consequences of a prolonged absence of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, don't you? Stark, did he sent word to the leaders of the Free Folk that the official meeting would be postponed, or didn't he even have the courtesy to let them know he would not attend?"
  
  "Nice to see you again too, Davos." Benjen mocked the man for forgoing the usual niceties. "I hope you all had an easy journey. I'll take my time to greet you later," he nodded at Ser Arthur, Sandor and Gendry before he turned his attention back on an impatient looking Davos. "Sorry Davos, but I am glad to see the others as well. To answer your question, he did indeed send them a message. He told me that he justified the delay of the official meeting by using the argument that negotiations between both parties would be more productive if they met after the Night's Watch had taken their own measure of this mutual enemy. He warned the King Beyond the Wall that the meeting might be postponed for several moons." Benjen's tone changed when the repercussions dawned on him as well.
  
  "So you realise as well that this messes with our timing. Jon, we will need to revise our strategies and priorities." Although he addressed his Prince with his words, his eyes had taken a faraway look.
  
  'Perhaps I should have joined Ser Gerold on his journey to Dragonstone. Now I am are stuck here at the end of the world because of a stubborn bear. How will Eddard Stark be able to prevent King Robert from attacking Dragonstone if rumours spread about someone taking possession of the island? The plan was for all of us to be there by then and to start phase two of our plan.'
  
  Jon went over to Davos and tried to calm him down. "Davos, nothing is lost yet. Ser Gerold hasn't even reached White Harbour yet. If all goes as planned, he will arrive there tomorrow. Let us send out messages to our allies that we arrived at Castle Black and ask them to send us status reports. Who knows, perhaps the King stays longer in Winterfell or something else changes that delays our plans for the south and we are worrying needlessly. If the situation at Dragonstone deteriorates, I can be there in two or three days' time at the most. I propose we stress to our allies that secrecy and stealth are more important now than timing and speed when they take Dragonstone. It is imperative that the capital does not hear that Dragonstone will have changed hands before we want them to."
  
  The others all agreed with Jon. Davos and Jon immediately wrote and dispatched the message to White Harbour for Ser Gerold. The rest could wait till tomorrow. They would reassess the situation when they were rested and had more intelligence. Davos realised being on the move for so long had tired everyone out and told them to take it easy for the remainder of the day.
  
  Jon and his entourage were left in relative peace. Even Ghost was tolerated when it became clear that the direwolf never left Jon Celtigar's side and the young man seemed to have absolute control over the large animal.
  
  The only upside to Jeor Mormont's untimely leaving was that Cotter Pyke as acting Lord Commander kept the remaining men in check. A few brothers of the Night's Watch had been punished for starting a row and were spending two sennights in a cell. Pyke apparently respected the fact that Jon, his dragons and his advisers were there to help and made it clear that he would not pry. At least Jeor Mormont had kept Jon's real identity a secret to his replacement and they all agreed to try to keep it that way as long as possible. Soon enough Renly Baratheon would arrive and if he knew that a Targaryen with a rightful claim to the Iron Throne was at the Wall, it would be difficult to prevent him from getting a message through to his elder brother if not cause a riot.
  
  Still Davos didn't want to take chances with their safety and urged everyone to keep a low profile. They mostly stayed ensconced in the west tower and discussed the messages from their allies that reached them at Castle Black. Pyp together with an older steward took care of the ravens for now and distributed the incoming messages diligently. They adapted the timing of their sparring sessions to the odd times when the training yard was empty. Jon marked his first straightforward victory against Ser Arthur Dayne. He had used no tricks or distractions and the man's arm had fully healed. Sandor applauded although he warned Jon in his usual style.
  
  "Better not bitch about it too much, boy. It probably was a fluke. Be wise and do not become a stuck up cunt before you are able to fucking back up this one tiny victory by winning from him more times than you fucking lose."
  
  Jon laughed in response. "I know all too well I was lucky this time. I only take heart in the fact that I am improving. I hope to never become a stuck up cunt though, Sandor. I trust you to help me with that."
  
  "You have been improving by leaps and bounds lately, my Prince. I warn you though that that particular combination of strikes won't fool me a second time. Come on, let's continue our training." Ser Arthur encouraged his Prince.
  
  Gylles Stokeworth had been mesmerized by the sparring sessions. When he first spotted Ser Arthur entering the gates of Castle Black, he had almost been reduced to tears. Stokeworth had gone to one knee before Ser Arthur proclaiming that for the duration of their stay he reported to the Lord Commander of Jon's Kingsguard now and would obey his every command. This false assumption however made everyone aware that someone needed to coordinate Jon's protection and Ser Arthur effectively took up the mantle as interim Lord Commander of a reduced Kingsguard.
  
  Sandor stopped the official nonsense by challenging the man to spar a few bouts with him. A significant look from Ser Arthur made Sandor hold back a little bit. It wouldn't do to humiliate a man who had not been able to train on a superior level for a very long time.
  
  Unbeknownst to Jon, Sandor and Ser Arthur joined some training sessions of the brothers of the Night's Watch and did not hold back when facing the ones Stokeworth had pointed out to them that had been major instigators of the riots that had induced Jon to retreat to the Free Folk. Many a brother had been humiliated and bitten the dust. Ser Arthur and Sandor made their point by very subtly holding back when facing Targaryen supporters making it seem as if they were far more competent than their unlucky brothers who left the training yard with lots of bruises and hurt pride.
  
  After his first night's rest at Castle Black, Gendry did not waste any more time and visited the building that housed the armoury and the blacksmith's workshop. Full of purpose he burst into the gloomy space startling a middle aged man who put down the tool he was cleaning.
  
  "Who the hell do you think you are boy, bursting in here all high and mighty?" The sound of his rough voice stopped Gendry in his tracks.
  
  "I sorry, my Lord." He apologized immediately. "I didn't think anybody would be here already. Are you the armourer? Did nobody inform you that I was coming? I was given permission to use your forge. I hope that that is not too much trouble for you?"
  
  "You do not seem to be a new recruit? Come closer boy. Who are you? You look rather young to be a blacksmith."
  
  Gendry made a few steps towards the table where cleaned tools lay ordered by size.
  
  "My name is Gendry. I apprenticed with Tobho Mott in King's Landing, my Lord. Do not worry. I have been told that I am fairly proficient."
  
  "I am no Lord, boy. Even if I was, no titles here at the Wall, remember? I'm Noye."
  
  Now that the boy stood before him, Noye studied him closely. He looked the part all right. A tall sturdy lad with muscular arms, raven black hair... , he startled.
  
  "The Gods help me. It is like seeing a ghost. King's Landing you say? Are you by any chance a high Lord's bastard?"
  
  "I am. King Robert's bastard. I do not think he knows of my existence though." Gendry said knowing there was no point in hiding his parentage from this particular man. Now that Gendry's eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit space he recognised the one-armed man that Master Mott had described to him. Although Mott had not mentioned the beer belly, he easily spotted the flat, broad nose, the bristle chin and the pinned up sleeve.
  
  "I think you know my father rather well. At least if you are the Donal Noye that Master Mott mentioned when he taught me how to forge my own warhammer."
  
  "Aye, Donal Noye, that would be me. You are right. I knew your father back in Storm's End. Tobho Mott will certainly have told you that I made that fateful warhammer for him that killed Prince Rhaegar. You really apprenticed with Mott? That is a steep recommendation." Noye's eyes hadn't left Gendry's face.
  
  "I was fortunate enough to apprentice with him for several years." Gendry replied not minding the armourer's stare. He was relieved enough that Noye sounded a bit friendlier now.
  
  A warhammer you forged yourself, you said? Did you bring it to the Wall by any chance? I might be wanting to have a look at it."
  
  I can fetch my hammer after lunch if you like." Gendry said obligingly.
  
  "Now boy, tell me, what do you need my forge for?"
  
  "To melt volcanic glass daggers and forge them into arrowpoints and spearheads. I need to find the best procedure to keep the material strong. Find a way to make it stronger if possible. Perhaps by adding a small quantity of iron to it? I want to experiment a bit before newly mined material arrives. That way when I make larger pieces like for instance axe heads, large daggers and stuff like that, I can make sure that they don't break on impact."
  
  "Sounds like you want to use my workshop for more than just one day?" Noye remarked in his gruff voice.
  
  "It can't be helped. Weapons made of volcanic glass are desperately needed to fight the army of the dead. We are lucky enough that my friend can provide us with more of this material. It is vital that we arm the men of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk with it."
  
  Gendry was glad that he had been warned by Cotter Pyke that the blacksmith could be difficult at times. He held his own when the man looked sceptical and took his time to react.
  
  "What was your name again, boy?"
  
  "Gendry. I came by ship with the entourage of Jon Celtigar to help fight the dead that ambushed Benjen Stark."
  
  "You came with that dragonrider? You? The offspring of King Robert? How did that come about?"
  
  "That's a long story. Besides, I didn't know who my father was until Jon Celtigar told me. Do you really think names or even allegiances south of the Wall are important when we have to face the army of the dead?"
  
  "They should not be. Not here at the Wall anyway. You are a proficient blacksmith, you claim? Tell me, how would you fix this blade? See the damaged edges over there? I've used several ways already to fix the problem. Each time the owner brings it back in after a few days. Each time the damage is worse than before."
  
  "Can I hold it?" Gendry accepted the sword and studied it closely in an effort to determine the quality of the steel. Not looking up he asked. "Can you describe the exact colour this metal gets when heated? More orange, more red? What kind of wood do you use to stoke the fire of your forge?"
  
  When Jon checked in on Gendry, he found both men discussing terms he had never heard of. Neither man looked up. Jon slipped back outside unnoticed and closed the door. It seemed Cotter Pyke had been wrong to worry about the armourer's reluctance to share his domain. His friend seemed to be getting on well enough with the man. He went back to the west tower to reassure Davos that Gendry and the blacksmith were doing just fine.
  
  Davos had been flabbergasted when they had learned that Jeor Mormont had not taken the few dragonglass daggers that the Night's Watch possessed with him. It seemed that now that Maester Aemon was no longer there to provide counsel, either nobody had given decent advice to the Lord Commander or that headstrong man didn't listen to anybody but himself and had been in too much of a hurry to remember to take these very useful weapons with them.
  
  They had not hesitated to take advantage of this oversight. Davos had encouraged Gendry to experiment with the small amount of the material. Soon enough newly mined dragonglass would arrive and then they could replace these old daggers with new ones well before the Lord Commander's return.
  
  With Noye watching on, Gendry had immediately melted the small amount of dragonglass down. When he finished reworking the available material, Gendry proudly presented almost fifty arrow points and a few spearheads that he had fashioned from the handful of daggers. Even with his skills and Noye's experience it had taken a few tries but now he mastered the exact procedure to handle the delicate material and come up with a product that didn't shatter on impact.
  
  Word arrived that a ship from Dragonstone full of dragonglass was on its way to the Driftmark. As ordered, some of the material would be left behind at the Driftmark for Jon to pick up, before the ship set course to Eastwatch. The message mentioned that they were willing to send more if needed.
  
  A scroll from Prince Oberyn informed them that he would be crossing the borders of the Northern Kingdom and planned to stay a few days at Greywater Watch before continuing his journey north. Varys reported that matters in the capital had come to a standstill. The rumours about the dragons were dwindling down. Even if some people insisted there were now one or two small dragons in the world, nobody really believed that they posed a threat to Westeros.
  
  Ser Gerold announced their safe arrival at White Harbour but his message contained nothing else of significance. Reports from their allies in the Riverlands told them the situation had somehow stabilised and House Frey was keeping a low profile for the time being. Not a single message from Dany though. Jon decided to entice her into writing him by sending her a long message detailing the new developments at their end, without revealing Ser Barristan's destination.
  
  The fifth day of their stay in Castle Black, an urgent message arrived from Eddard Stark at Winterfell. It described the assassination attempt on Bran during the royal visit. After much debate, Jon overruled everyone's objections and just told them his decision was final. He would use his dragons to fly to Winterfell to speak with Lord Stark covertly. From there he planned to continue on to the Driftmark to pick up the first batch of dragonglass that was left there for him. He would also take the opportunity to make an overnight stop at Greywater Watch. It was the ideal place to take some necessary rest and at the same time get an updated report of the situation in the Riverlands, the Vale and the Crownlands. His main argument was that in this manner he would obtain detailed, up to date reports on the situation and he could discuss possible actions on the spot with Lord Stark and Lord Reed. The encrypted messages they had received thus far were always rather brief reports and to exchange ideas was not very practical since there was always the delay before you received a reaction. Discussing matters by raven took time and resources.
  
  This time Ser Arthur and Sandor joined Davos and were rather vocal to express their objections. Ever since it became clear that sending someone with their Prince on his dragons was not an option anytime soon, they had realised that they would not always be able to keep up with Jon's movements. This time Jon would fly further than ever before and some of it over hostile territory.
  
  After Jon had left them to check on Gendry, the two Kingsguards discussed their options with Davos Seaworth. The situation at Castle Black was still volatile and the imminent arrival of Prince Renly and perhaps now also Jaime Lannister presented an extra dilemma. Nevertheless, they all opted to stay at the Wall for the time being.
  
  As Jon had proposed, they drafted a message to Jaremy Rykker to ask the King Beyond the Wall to agree to a preliminary meeting without Lord Commander Mormont or any other representative of the Night's Watch. They stated it would benefit both parties if Jon's entourage could establish a rapport with the leaders of the Free Folk before a stubborn third party entered the negotiations. Upon agreement of the Free Folk, a date would be set as soon as the dragonrider got back from his trip south.
  
  Before Jon flew off to Winterfell, Jon and Davos had withdrawn to Davos' bedroom to drawn up a list of topics to discuss with Eddard Stark so Jon would not forget to address any of their current issues. When they were finished, Davos sighed. He looked over to his Prince, the worry apparent in his eyes. At Jon's questioning look he spoke up.
  
  "You do realise that this time you will be travelling on your own across a large part of Westeros. This will be your most ambitious flight by far. It would make me feel so much better if you could take someone along with you on Rhaegal. Why have you not tried once more to let Gendry mount him?" Davos saw Jon stiffen.
  
  "Although Gendry is the only one who could touch Rhaegal without obtaining severe burns, be it because of his small percentage of dragonblood or owing to the fact that he worked close to the fires of a blacksmith's workshop during his formative years, he still sustained minor burns that itched for days. And that was only after a short period of contact. Imagine taking him with me on a flight that lasts half a day or longer." Jon was quick to retort
  
  "Is there no way around that? Use protective clothing or some other genius idea?" Davos was not giving up this quickly.
  
  "My main reason not to attempt this again is because of Rhaegal's wellbeing. I explained to you already how I had to warg into him to keep him calm enough to let Gendry touch him. Rhaegal had to make a conscious effort to reduce his surface heat so he would not hurt him more than he already did. This endeavour gave the dragon a severe headache that lasted the rest of that day. I felt his frustration and unhappiness afterwards and I promised him he would never have to go through that again. So no, I will not try that again. Dragons are not made to be ridden by just anyone, Davos. I have a bond with Rhaegal and we open our minds to each other when we fly together. That way it is a relaxing and rewarding experience for the both of us. It is a consensual relationship and I will never presume to use my dragons just as beasts of burden that are at my disposal. They are my equals, my family. Their wellbeing is paramount to me."
  
  "Well if you put it that way, I guess I will have to resign myself to the situation. I do not like it however. I feel as if we are failing because we can't keep up with you and we are not always on hand when you need our counsel." Ghost who had rested at Jon's feet this entire time made a whining sound.
  
  Jon petted his wolf and tried to comfort him by sending the thought to him that no matter where he flew off to, he would always come back to him. Ghost was part of his family, his pack as much as the dragons. Out loud he reacted to his loyal Hand's statement.
  
  "I know, Davos. That is the part about this that I hate as well. But since it can't be helped, I advise you to focus on the positive aspects of this situation. We have a great advantage over our enemies. We can communicate between the different corners of Westeros much more efficient than they can. We can hear about a development days, sometimes moons before them if we prevent ravens to fly between our adversaries. Take the Vale for instance, if Lord Royce can successfully sabotage the ravens, the opposition in King's Landing will know much later what exactly is happening there and we are the only ones with this intelligence." Lord Stark had written how they suspected Littlefinger was playing Lysa Arryn and that they would try to prevent the two of them from communicating.
  
  "I understand all that. I still do not like you flying about the continent on your own. However, I'll try my best to accept it most grudgingly. Come on, it is time for you to set off. I know that you will want to say your goodbyes to Ghost and us petty humans. I have sent Stokeworth to fetch Gendry." He gestured for Ser Arthur and Sandor to approach.
  
  They all waved at Jon when he flew south to Winterfell.
  
  Jon enjoyed the long flights on his dragon. He had been shocked to hear of all the events that had taken place at Winterfell but focused on the good memories of seeing Lord Stark and Robb again. His stop over at Greywater Watch had been fruitful and had the extra bonus of seeing Prince Oberyn again and meeting his daughter Nymeria. The stop at the Vale had yielded the planned effect but the heart-warming welcome he received from the people at the Driftmark had been the highlight of this journey.
  
  Jon hadn't minded the few days he had been stuck on the island waiting for a change in weather so the clouds would camouflage his long trek back to the North. He had visited his elderly foster grandmother again who had been delighted by his visit. The inhabitants of the village had pampered him. They were excited to hear Dragonstone would soon be in Targaryen hands again. They had all pledged their fealty to their True King on the spot. Jon who had always considered the Driftmark as his home told the people as much in his elaborate thank you speech. He ended with asking them to keep his secret for a bit longer and assured them that they would always have a special place in his heart. He urged them not to hesitate to contact him if ever they were in need of assistance.
  
  He had to use all his restraint not to take his dragons east and fly to Daenerys. His last night at the Driftmark, he had dreamt of her. In his dreams she had looked ethereal, otherworldly. She had floated ever so slowly to him. It had taken an almost unbearably long time before he could finally reach her. His touch had somehow transformed her. She had become solid and even more beautiful before his very eyes. Her vice-like grip was painful however and too strong for him to get loose of his own accord. She had whispered to him never to let her go. When he tried to tell her that he really needed to leave for a short time still, she had transformed once more in an elf like creature and had floated up in the air where Jon couldn't reach her. No matter what he shouted at her, she didn't seem to hear him. She became gradually more transparent until she dissolved into thin air.
  
  Jon had awoken in a cold sweat, his heat beating so fast he instinctively put his hand on his chest as if to prevent the organ from bursting through his skin. He had to forcefully remind himself of all the reasons why it would not be wise to go and see her now even though he was only a half a day flight away from Pentos. He wondered how she was coping with the news of uncle Aemon's death. The only thought that offered him some comfort was that he knew for certain that it would not be long now before they would meet each other again. If the winds were favourable, Ser Barristan was scheduled to arrive in Pentos two or three sennights from now. The next time he flew south it would most likely be to visit her on Dragonstone.
  
  He diverted his mind by plotting out a course north for his return journey that took him over the Narrow Sea most of the time. He planned to catch a glimpse of the ships that were escorting Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam to the Driftmark. He would try to deliver them the latest news in a direct and original way. He had fabricated a small bow and had fixed copies of his messages to several arrows. He hoped one would safely find its mark. He had calculated the ships would be passing the shores of the Vale of Arryn by now.
  
  A test flight with Rhaegal burdened by the two heavy bags of dragonglass made it clear that they would not be able to fly at their normal speed. The dragon needed to make an extra effort to keep his stability up in the air. Jon had used the same tactic as before, knotting the bags together and positioning them on Rhaegal's back and flanks so they kept each other balanced and Jon could sit on the flat part of the bags where they were connected to each other to keep them from shifting during the flight. It was not the extra weight that hindered Rhaegal's flying abilities, the dragon was strong enough by now but it was rather awkward flying with two large bulges. Rhaegal's lean shape that kept him aloft and allowed him to move quickly through the air, was disturbed by the two large bags filled with dragonglass.
  
  Rhaegal insisted on helping his rider and would not hear of leaving the bags behind. Jon was glad he could feel everything Rhaegal felt and reduced the load of the bags by half. Their last test flight reassured both the dragon and its rider that it would be feasible to fly the reduced amount of the precious material the entire way north without endangering themselves.
  
  Soaring over the Narrow Sea it was easy for Jon to recognize his ships when he used his spyglass and an opening in the clouds. The fleet was taking the official shipping route that lay far enough from the shoreline so as not to be visible from the mainland. There was only the minimal required crew present on the decks since it was raining heavily. Jon had to either change his delivery plan or wait for drier weather to prevent the messages from becoming unreadable. Seeing no other ships nearby, he tucked the arrows safely under his coat and doublet, made a dive and circled over the ships. He heard the ship bells ring when he descended again to reach a spot above the clouds and more importantly above the rain. When he used his spyglass once more he spotted several extra figures appearing on the decks.
  
  He was still pondering his options when all of a sudden rather miraculously the heavy rain stopped and the small openings between the clouds grew wider. Jon asked Rhaegal to dive a second time. He also requested his dragon to reduce his speed and keep his body steady, perhaps hoover over the ships if possible so Jon could release his grip and take out the bow and arrows with both hands.
  
  Rhaegal just puffed some smoke, annoyed that his human still doubted his skills after all their joint flying sessions. He proudly showed him just how steady he could keep his body even with the extra baggage. Jon sent elaborate thanks to placate his dragon. Viserion flew figures around the ships amusing the men on board with his antics now that they were all made aware that the dragons were their allies. Jon shouted a greeting at Ser Gerold and aimed his arrow at an empty spot on deck praying he would not hurt anyone. His first shot missed and the arrow with its message landed in the water drifting away on the waves. His second shot hit the deck and Jon shouted they should retrieve the scroll before it got soaked. By now Sam had also arrived on deck and waved at Jon. Jon made one final run over the ship, waved back at Sam and flew north to continue his long trek back to the Wall. Viserion aborted his skylarking and followed his brother.
  
  He was forced to make two overnight stops this time. The extra weight slowed Rhaegal down and the mental effort of keeping his balance tired the dragon. The extra rest was as necessary as it was welcomed by all three of them. They camped in the woods long before supper both times and enjoyed the extra leisure. Jon spent the two nights sleeping peacefully encircled by his dragons. No dreams or spectres haunted him this time. Both dragons and human arrived at their destination relaxed and happy.
  
  His mood was in stark contrast to the very troubled party he found when he arrived at Castle Black. They had been worried sick because he had arrived days later than his original schedule.
  
  After being smothered within an inch of his life, he gently reminded them that as long as he needed to keep a low profile and had to wait to use either cloud cover or darkness to mask his whereabouts, it was impossible to accurately plan the durations of his travels. No counterargument was uttered, they were only too glad he understood the importance of stealth and safety.
  
  Gendry welcomed the two heavy bags and was elated when he saw the superior condition of the freshly mined volcanic glass. He was certain he could get a high quality end product now that he had first rate material to work with instead of those few daggers who could well have been thousands of years old. The young blacksmith immediately returned to the workshop where he had been working side by side with Donal Noye almost every day. Stokeworth accompanied him to organize the transport of the dragonglass.
  
  That left Benjen, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor to discuss the new information Jon had gathered and the altered situation at the Vale. Jon also notified them that Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed were on their way to Winterfell, the latter to fetch Bran Stark who would be fostered at Greywater Watch for a few years. He told them about Bran's revelations after his fall and how Howland Reed had confirmed that Bran was the only Stark to have the potential to become a powerful warg and would greatly benefit from his tutoring. The others would be asked to keep up the beginners exercises Jon had taught Robb. That way they still could develop their bond somewhat and communicate feelings with their respective direwolves while awake.
  
  It was not a big surprise that Gendry decided to stay behind when two days later they left Castle Black to travel to the Free Folk settlement for the planned preliminary meeting. Cotter Pyke adhered to Jeor Mormont's restrictions and did not send a representative of the Night's Watch along with them. So the party that set out overland consisted only of Jon, Ghost, Benjen Stark, Davos Seaworth, Ser Arthur, Sandor Clegane and Gylles Stokeworth. It was a merry party that undertook the two days journey. Although it was cold beyond the Wall, everyone had enough furs. It was dry and sunny for a change, the landscape was beautiful and the journey not a dangerous one. Also, it lent a feeling of safety to have two large dragons in the vicinity to help them reach their destination.
  
  When they dismounted just outside of the settlement, Jon noticed the approach of Tormund and Jaremy Rykker. They had seen the dragons circling overhead and had come to look for them. Tormund in his normal exuberant way was about to topple Jon when Sandor sprang between them. "What the fuck." He exclaimed when Tormund unceremoniously tried to push him aside.
  
  "It's okay, Sandor. Please meet Tormund Giantsbane, who is the right hand of the King Beyond the Wall but more to the point, he is also a very good friend who wants to greet me. Jon gently pushed Sandor aside and embraced Tormund. "I've brought my guards this time. So keep your manners in check a bit?" he patted Tormund's back before ending their embrace.
  
  "Sorry big man," Tormund apologised to Sandor after he had released Jon. "I am just overly glad to see my new best friend has decided to come back to us. Any friend of Jon the Dragonrider is a friend of mine. He stepped forward ready to pull Sandor Clegane against his chest as well.
  
  "Ho ho there," Sandor put his hand forwards a reticent expression on his face. "Hold your horses, I am no hugger, never have been, no offence, giant man."
  
  "Ha ha, I am no giant, burnt man. Wait till you meet my friends Mag the Mighty and Wun Wun tonight. Those nice fuckers are real giants." Tormund had forgone the hug and satisfied himself by patting Sandor Clegane's left shoulder, ignoring the exasperated expression of the man.
  
  Ser Arthur watched the scene from atop his horse. He had instantly known that no interference was needed. He had recognised Tormund Giantsbane by Jon's elaborate descriptions and remembered Rykker vaguely from his youth. Another sign that had reassured him was how he had witnessed that Ghost had chosen to sniff at the two men in a friendly manner instead of preventing them from approaching Jon. He dismounted at leisure, confident that his Prince was not in any danger. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he was accosted by the man that he presumed to be a former Targaryen bannerman.
  
  "I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Ser Arthur. My name is Jaremy Rykker. Perhaps you remember me?" The man looked at the famous knight with hopeful eyes.
  
  "Indeed, I remember we spend some time together at Dragonstone during a tournament when we were both a lot younger. I am sorry you ended up serving at the Wall."
  
  "I was so glad to hear the three of you survived and were able to protect and raise Prince Rhaegar's son. I would have given my right hand to serve him all these years." Jaremy Rykker was taking in every detail of Ser Arthur's attire and his eyes rested on his sword by the end of his speech.
  
  "Is that?"
  
  Ser Arthur obliged the man, feeling genuinely sorry for his forced exile. The ringing sound of his sword leaving the scabbard drew the attention of the rest of the party. Sandor Clegane immediately went for his weapon as well. Tormund looked around sweeping his long hair left and right, however the wild look left his eyes when he noticed the extraordinary colour of the sword that was now being admired by the two men.
  
  "It's just your fucking knight showing of his rich cunt's sword." He reassured Sandor. "Put your weapon away. You sure as hell won't need it here. You will be able to use your other pointy thing though. The women here love men that are strong and have seen real battles. You look the part, my burnt friend. You will have to fight off the more horny ones if you are reluctant to hug them as well."
  
  Sandor just grunted in response but Tormund spotted the interest in the man's eye. "Follow my lead tonight and I'll get you laid as many times as you can handle. That's the only fucking thing where my new friend the Dragonrider comes up short. He has yet to satisfy a pussy here. Not by lack of trying on their part. I can fucking swear to that." Tormund threw his arm around Sandor's shoulder. "Come, I'll show you to your tent. Your southern King is protected by his wolf and the other men in your party. Let us get to know each other."
  
  Jon winked at Sandor and Ser Arthur waved him off. The two large men left together but only after Sandor had pointedly removed Tormund's big hand from his shoulder. "Keep your fucking hands off me and I will gladly let you lead the way, tiny giant."
  
  That night around a large bonfire the new arrivals were requested to tell a story. When Davos started to describe their victory of the battle against the Ironborn, he was loudly booed by the Free Folk. His stupefaction made Jon and Tormund erupt in laughter. "I am sorry Davos." Jon tried to explain between bouts of laughter. "I have told that story several times and from every angle I could imagine already. You will have to think of something else."
  
  Ser Arthur proceeded to tell them about southern tournaments describing the joust and the melee in detail. Just like Jon on his first evening, he was stopped after almost every sentence to explain terms the Free Folk were either unfamiliar with or had trouble to understand. They certainly struggled with the concept of someone fighting their best friends and potentially hurting him rather badly even risk killing him for money.
  
  Jon used the opportunity to catch up with his uncle. They made sure their whispers didn't disturb the evening's entertainment. Both men were glad they got to spend a bit more time together. It had been frustrating lately how events always seemed to pull them apart faster than planned.
  
  It was rather late when Ser Arthur finally finished his tale and everybody decided to retire. Jon's party had brought their own modest tents but were ushered to a large tent that Tormund had confiscated to accommodate the friends of the Dragonrider.
  
  The next morning, Mance Rayder made his appearance. He had been absent the previous night to tend to a dispute in a nearby settlement of the Thenns.
  
  "Craster's Keep you say?" He asked Davos when introductions were finished and they had all gathered in his tent for the formal meeting. "Is the old bugger still alive then?"
  
  "You know of him?" Benjen Stark asked the leader of the Free Folk. "The Night's Watch uses his facilities sometimes when they need to renew their provisions on long ranging missions and sometimes trade with him exchanging furs or other small items for food and drink."
  
  "Well, I know enough not to go near the man." Mance replied his voice betraying his disgust for Craster. At the perplexed expressions of most of his new guests he addressed Benjen Stark.
  
  "Do not tell me the Watch doesn't know of the man's despicable habit of fucking his daughters before they have even flowered and in every way possible. Considering the time he has been at it, some of the girls he uses are technically also his granddaughters. A few of them have managed to escape and live amongst us now. And if his treatment of his daughters isn't bad enough to condemn the man, you should hear what he does to his sons."
  
  Jon looked at uncle Benjen, a worried look on his face. "Were you aware of all of this, Uncle? What about his sons?"
  
  "I've never been to Craster's Keep myself, Jon. I only know of him from the stories the men of the Night's Watch tell me. They often complain how they are not allowed to even look at his daughters. One brother of the Watch almost lost his head because he smiled at one of Craster's daughters from a distance if his version of the story is to be believed. They never once mentioned the existence of sons. I just thought the man had fathered nothing but daughters." Benjen Stark looked at Mance Rayder now clearly wanting him to explain what was the deal with Craster's sons.
  
  The man just looked at him, not disguising his disbelief and hostility. Since not a word was forthcoming from the King Beyond the Wall, Benjen Stark addressed him directly, in an effort to defend himself.
  
  "Please remember, I am not a brother of the Night's Watch, Mance Rayder. I visit the Wall occasionally as the official liaison so named by my brother, the Warden of the North. The scouting mission with your representatives was the first time I ventured more than a day's walk beyond the Wall. I have never been to Craster's Keep myself. Now will you please reveal to us why the Free Folk avoid that man?" Benjen stared Mance Rayder down until he saw the man acquiesce.
  
  "We do not know for sure what happens to his sons. From the two women who escaped his household we know that he leaves his male offspring outside in the cold. There is a rumour going around though that is believed by most of the Free Folk. And those who do not believe it outright fear it might be true anyway."
  
  "Fucking say what you want to say already." Sandor burst out. He was hungover and was getting tired of making sense of this stupid conversation where everyone seemed to beat about the bush.
  
  "My new friend has the right of it, Mance. You are talking like a fucking southerner now. Just come right out with it already and say that we think the daughter-fucker has a deal with the White Walkers and offers his new-born sons up to them. The rumour is not so far-fetched now that we all know these cunts really do exist." Tormund was quick to back up his new drinking buddy's outburst.
  
  "It makes even more sense now that we know that for some reason a small part of the army of the dead led by a White Walker is heading in the direction of Craster's Keep as we speak. Perhaps their purpose is to collect a new male baby." Jon built on Tormund's reasoning.
  
  "The Lord Commander and his large scouting party will not be welcome to witness that deal." Davos muttered. "I hope he doesn't get himself in trouble with his stubborn ways."
  
  "Well, he tolerated a daughter-rapist for many years to keep the peace and have a helpful outpost beyond the Wall. He'll only get what he has coming." Mance retorted his tone bitter. "Ever think of those poor women? Besides getting fucked senseless by their own father, if they get pregnant and have a daughter they know she is destined to be raped by her father as well, and if they give birth to a boy, they have to stand aside and suffer their loss in silence whilst their baby is either left outside to freeze to death or is given to ice monsters to do with as they please."
  
  A silence ensued. Jon was the first to speak up after a while. "Perhaps I should," he started.
  
  But Davos and Benjen Stark both interfered at the same time with a resounding. "No!"
  
  Benjen motioned Davos that he left it to him to explain their objection.
  
  "Not to mention the fact that you are once more thinking of recklessly rushing headlong into danger without backup, you are persona non grata with the Lord Commander already. If you interfere in his business, there is no telling how he will retaliate. He may very well deliver you to the Baratheon King on the spot."
  
  "Over my dead body." Tormund had jumped up fixing them all with his bulging eyes. They still looked red from lack of sleep the same as Sandor's but that didn't diminish the fiery look.
  
  "I personally will kill that stupid cunt of a Lord Commander before he hurts the Dragonrider. Why do we need the cooperation of the fucking Night's Watch anyway? Why wait for the stupid crows to finally show their coward arses instead of letting them delay us for several fucking moons? Why risk them driving away or even hurting our powerful new friend with his dragon, his dragonglass and his ships. We have the numbers and all the support we need thanks to my friendship with Jon the Dragonrider." Sandor nodded vigorously forgetting for a moment that doing so hurt his head.
  
  Benjen spoke up now and made an effort to keep his voice down and talk at a more sedate pace compared to Tormund's fevered speech. Everyone needed to stay calm in order to come to an acceptable plan of action.
  
  "Actually it is the task of the Night's Watch to protect the realms of men. If you know the wording of their vow, it should be them to take the lead in this war and we should only be considered volunteers that want to help them and not the other way around."
  
  "That is just a beautiful theory and not the reality we are experiencing now, Uncle." Jon objected. "First of all they have forgotten what protecting the realms of men really means. They have had it wrong for centuries if not longer. They firmly believe their vows mean that they are to keep the Free Folk from crossing the Wall, when in fact they need to protect the Free Folk who are an integral part of the realms of men from the White Walkers and their army of dead wights." Seeing everyone around him nod he continued.
  
  "Secondly, the brothers of the Night's Watch should have forsworn politics and accept the help they are offered but again that is not the case. My third and final point is that the current Lord Commander is too narrow minded and not fit to lead this war. He has proven he is unable to change his mind when he is proven wrong even if the real threat has been pointed out to him by several men by now."
  
  "Well he is investigating it now." Benjen Stark defended Jeor Mormont.
  
  "Investigating what we already know and aside from endangering his men unnecessarily he is setting us back for moons if we do nothing and just wait for him to return." Jon countered. Tormund and Sandor both nodded their assent. Ser Arthur and Davos kept their faces neutral, clearly deciding to let the men who had seen the threat first hand do the talking for now. They all looked at Mance Rayder to find out how he would respond.
  
  The man deliberated for a while and then addressed Jon. "What do you propose?" It seemed the King Beyond the Wall was emphasising he was willing to defer to Jon for now which sent a clear signal to Jon's entourage.
  
  "I would like to do some more scouting first before making a decision. If they have continued to venture further north, I will probably be gone for almost a sennight. I propose that you all use the time I am away to put your heads together and come up with ways to lure, trap and destroy the enemy. Once we know more of their whereabouts and hopefully have figured out where they intend to target us, we need to decide the exact spot we want to lure them to and set our traps." Jon who had addressed the entire group now paused for a moment and took the time to look Mance Raider straight in the eyes. "Unless you want to wait it out and let them decided where they can overwhelm you?"
  
  "Of course not. I agree that we need to know more about their currents whereabouts and even their motives before we decide on a battle plan. It only makes sense that we use our time to come up with ways to entrap the dead fuckers. The rest we can decide later. I am only worried about the fact that we are just letting the dead reach Craster's Keep unhindered where the White Walker is most likely fetching an innocent baby boy. Are we really going to sit by and just do nothing about that?" Mance looked at all the men now.
  
  "It can't be helped for now." Benjen Stark was the first to speak. "You have thousands of Free Folk families to protect. They should come first. We cannot risk antagonising Jeor Mormont further by showing up to save one soul."
  
  "I could at least take a quick look from high up to see what's happening over there, Uncle." Jon retorted.
  
  "The skies have been clear these last few days, Jon. Mormont would spot you from miles away." Benjen Stark was quick to point out.
  
  "Perhaps Orell can scout the situation with his eagle while I search the far North with my dragons? Based on his findings, you can still decide whether to interfere or not." Jon tentatively asked Mance Rayder.
  
  "I will ask him to do just that. " Mance Rayder was quick to agree. The man subtly conveyed his thanks to Jon for not dismissing his worries out of hand and offering a helpful suggestion.
  
  "Just tell him Jon the Skinchanger asks for his help." Tormund drew the attention of Mance and Jon to him. "Orell will fucking do anything for his fellow warg."
  
  "Well it seems we have a plan for the following days." Mance Rayder turned towards Jon. "Dragonrider, ask Val to give you enough provisions. I have an inkling you will have to extend your search to the uncharted northern territories. Be careful for frostbite and do not rely on encountering a lot of game. The others in your party are welcome to stay with us for the time being."
  
  For the first time since entering the Free Folk settlement Ser Arthur looked anxious. "My Prince, I want you to promise me that you will turn back immediately when your dragons cannot find enough food to sustain themselves. Without them we don't stand a chance here and without you, there is no Targaryen restoration. We will let you fly off without complaining if you assure us you will not take risks and come back at the first sign of trouble."
  
  "Hear, hear!" Davos exclaimed and the others all repeated these words.
  
  "All right," Jon relented. "I thank you all for your concern. I solemnly vow I will not put the lives of my dragons in danger and I am confident that they in turn will see me safely back. I will even go as far as to voluntarily make the promise not to venture farther than a few feet from my dragons when I need to dismount."
  
  "Now that this is settled, or as good as anyway, can you tell me whether you made any progress with your search for volcanic glass?" Mance asked curious to see if the young man was able to make good on his ambitious promises.
  
  "We brought a small amount of arrowheads and spearpoints. They were fashioned from dragonglass belonging to the Night's Watch but with Jeor Mormont gone I borrowed it. I also flew two heavy bags of newly mined dragonglass from the South to the Wall personally and a good friend of mine who happens to be a skilled blacksmith is fashioning more weapons as we speak. We will leave some at Castle Black but the bulk of them will be brought here as soon as they are ready."
  
  Jon noticed Tormund exchange a telling look with Mance Rayder. He was not finished however. "A ship with its hold full of dragonglass is already on its way to Eastwatch. Speaking of ships, twenty eight are docked at the Bay of Ice. I expect news any day now from Eastwatch where fifty ships from Skagos should have arrived by now."
  
  "We won't have to bring the clans settled at Hardhome here then." Tormund spoke to Mance Rayder. Addressing the others he explained. "More than half of our people are currently gathered there. Hardhome is one of the most favoured places to settle beyond the Wall. The area boasts several sheltered plains with plenty of food sources. When a clan moves on, others are quick to take up the space they left. The Free Folk have even put up wooden structures to live in over there. We have been worried about their safety."
  
  "It still depends on the movement of the enemy how best to deal with the clans there. We will know more when we decide when and where we need to make our stand." Mance interrupted. "But I agree that the ones who are not able to fight can stay at Hardhome and venture nearer to the shoreline so they can board the ships if the enemy shows itself."
  
  Once more he turned his attention to Jon to the exclusion of everyone else. The proud man bowed his head slightly and then looked him in the eyes and praised him for all to hear. "It seems you have come through on all your promises so far. I apologise for mistrusting you before."
  
  "You were wise to play it safe, Mance." Jon addressed the King Beyond the Wall by his first name to imply he considered them equals if not friends. "I am sure Davos Seaworth here would have treated you the same way if I had not swayed him in your favour." He watched both older men smile at each other hesitantly.
  
  "Not familiar with our straightforward way of talking yet?" Mance teased Davos directly now.
  
  Tormund who had fetched ale prevented Davos from responding when he spoke up in his exuberant way. "Let us all drink to our new alliance. If those stupid cunts of Crows do not see reason, we will do their fucking job for them and you," he pointed at Benjen Stark, "will tell that powerful brother of yours that the South owes the Free Folk their lives."
  
  "If all goes well," Davos always the voice of reason cautioned them. "We have not defeated the enemy yet." But he did not object when Tormund passed him a horn filled to the brim with ale.
  
  "Bottoms up!" Tormund exclaimed and Sandor echoed his words.
  
  The fifth night of Jon's continued absence Davos found Ser Arthur alone outside the settlement with Ghost by his side contemplating the stars. "Do you mind if I join you?" Ser Davos asked and threw a fur on the ground to act as a seat. "Are you not cold out here by yourself?"
  
  Ser Arthur's eyes reluctantly stopped watching the sky and studied the man next to him. "If you think coming here and worrying alongside me will help lift my spirits, I think you are miscalculating. The fact that you are worried as well only increases my distress."
  
  "Perhaps we are concerned about different things and can reassure each other?" Davos tried. "Besides Jon always tells me my presence comforts him. And I know you think too highly of your Prince to consider him a liar." Davos tried to lighten the mood.
  
  "Okay, I'll bite. Work your magic and see if it helps." Ser Arthur straightened his posture somewhat.
  
  "Only if you promise to help me in return." Davos was quick to retort. "What's troubling you, son? I do not believe that you are worrying about your Prince's safety to this extent. I can still hear you defending him to Ser Gerold when he sneaked off to the Wall that first time. You were very sure then that he would take no unnecessary risks and his that his dragons were powerful enough to protect him."
  
  "That is just it. He doesn't need us to protect him most of the time. In the air he has his dragons, on the ground he has Ghost and plenty of support. I have dedicated seventeen years of my life to that boy, I love him perhaps as much as I would love a son but he doesn't need me anymore. Not truly. I have been wandering aimlessly through this settlement for days now trying to remember the reason I volunteered so fervently to come all this way north." He looked over to Davos to see whether the man could make sense of his conflicted speech."
  
  "Well, that last part, I can help you with. We came here because of the description of the ambush that threatened Benjen Stark's life. I had neither heard of an enemy that numerous nor that terrifying. And then we decide to abandon our life's work for a while, forget about the Targaryen restoration for a few moons, only to find that this horrifying enemy has retreated to the far north and no longer presents an immediate threat. Suddenly we find ourselves with time on our hands and a very, very long distance away from our original goal and when I say distance I mean geographically."
  
  "That sums that part up indeed. But that doesn't help me any further." Ser Arthur sighed.
  
  "I think your problem stems from the fact that you still see yourself as this stereotype Kingsguard even though Jon doesn't. He hasn't for a long time now, perhaps even never." Davos stopped when he saw the man shake his head.
  
  "I know over the years we assumed the roles of teacher and trainer on top of our duties of guarding our Prince. But he has grown up now and hardly needs our teachings any more. I am sure you heard all about how he bested me the other day. And even as a Kingsguard I only have a half time job. I have been feeling useless these past few days. Too much time to dwell on the fact that I am not that vital to his well-being any longer and can easily be replaced."
  
  "I just think that you are tired and have been overthinking things, Ser Arthur. Let me finish my prior explanation. Jon's relationship with you over the years has evolved and he can't see you becoming once more the typical Kingsguard that the members of the court will expect to see. We have spoken of the future. He literally told me he just couldn't picture you standing in the throne room two paces behind him to his right not moving a muscle and staying silent while he listened to the petitioners." Davos held up his hand when he saw Ser Arthur's dejected look.
  
  "Let me finish this time before you react, please. Jon told me you are so much more than just a sworn sword. He sees you more as an adviser to the Crown who at the same time is a trustworthy protector and a very close friend. Let me tell you what he has come up with."
  
  Davos saw he had finally captured the goodwill of the famous knight with his last few sentences and quickly continued.
  
  "Our wise Prince realises you define yourself by how good a Kingsguard, how great a swordsman you are. However once he is the King and the realm is at peace, he is of the opinion that this role is too restricting for you. He will also want to hear your opinions and spend time with you in a less formal setting which is not possible if you are officially a knight guarding his King. He has come up with an honorary Kingsguard position. You would still be a formal member of his Kingsguard and wear the uniform at the times of your choosing but you would not be incorporated in the full rotating schedules. He will ask Ser Gerold to enlist new knights to take up the more tedious routine duties. You would still guard him at the times of your choosing, but he will ask that you attend important meetings when he requests your presence and that you will accompany him on specific outings where he wants you by his side in the capacity of a friend or an adviser and not a few paces behind him as a silent formal Kingsguard. If you want, you can also assist Ser Gerold with electing and training the new members of the Kingsguard who will have to adhere to the protocol of the court when they attend to their duties."
  
  Ser Arthur looked at Davos in wonder. "Jon discussed all of that with you?"
  
  "Yes, that and more. He has spent these last few years questioning a lot of the old rules and traditions and we have been debating on the best way to change things up without creating too much opposition and still improve the lot of everyone, not only the nobles but the smallfolk as well."
  
  "Jon has always been on good terms with the smallfolk. I never saw him as a stuck up royal or noble." Ser Arthur smiled. "So what you have been trying to tell me is that our Prince still wants me around, even if he will have a more Kingsguards at his disposal?"
  
  "That summons it up quite nicely. I guess I used too many words once again. If you are unaware of how devastated Jon would be if something happened to you or if you just upped and left of your own accord, then you are plain stupid and I will tell our dear Prince that he is making a mistake to place so much trust in your ability to understand and guide him." Davos nudged Ser Arthur's shoulder. "Did I work my magic? Do you feel better now?"
  
  "If you swear to me that what you told me is the absolute truth, then I surely do." Ser Arthur studied Davos who turned a serious face to him, not in the least bit insulted.
  
  Davos put his right hand over his heart and solemnly vowed, "I swear it on the life of Aegon Targaryen and his future children."
  
  "Now that is a convincing vow." Ser Arthur placed his hands behind his body and leaned back to look up to the stars once more but this time his posture was more relaxed. "You truly are a magician, Davos. Thank you.
  
  "You're welcome. Now let us see if you can help me out. Don't worry. I do not expect miracles from you. Just a listening ear will already help me a great deal."
  
  Ser Arthur once more interrupted his stargazing concentrating on Davos' problems. "Am I right in presuming your troubles stem from the thing you described so clearly at the beginning of our conversation? Being so far away from our real cause and the trouble here not being as dire for now as we originally thought?"
  
  "See, now you are proving Jon's faith in you is justified. That indeed is the origin of my troubles. When Dragonstone is ours and Jon flies over there and to make his claim to the throne public, we can't have predicted every reaction of every Kingdom or even every vassal houses if loyalties split in one or several Kingdoms. He will need counsel to deal with unexpected adversities. And where will I be? Stuck travelling through half of the Kingdom desperately trying to reach the King I want to serve so very badly."
  
  "You can prepare and plan for most eventualities." Ser Arthur tried to reassure the older man.
  
  "It hardly ever happens that a situation goes one hundred percent according to plan. There are always on the spot adjustments to make at best. At worst a plan has to be thrown out of the window and a new one needs to be fabricated on the spot. Can you imagine hearing of an uprising against our Prince and not being able to reach him for more than a moon? I need to find a solution to prevent him from making his public claim until we arrive in the capital. I do not know if that is feasible however. Word of the dragons will get out and we need to act before King Robert calls his banners and imprisons Lord Stark for treason or attacks Dragonstone."
  
  "Perhaps you forget your trump card is Lord Stark. He will be in the South. Varys is on our side as well. They can advise Jon temporarily if necessary. And maybe you should contemplate leaving here early. The meetings you have attended have shown there is not much strategizing against this kind of brainless enemy. The dragons will play an important part in warning us of every position of the enemy well in advance and we have several possible ways to trap them. You will not be irreplaceable out here. Leave the warfare and deliberating on fighting strategies to the younger guys."
  
  "There will be a small contingent of the Free Folk travelling to Eastwatch to coordinate the evacuation plans and implement several defensive traps over there. If you travel with them you can take one of our ships and sail to White Harbour where you can jump on board of one of the five ship formations leaving for the Driftmark almost daily. I am not telling you to leave mind you, I am only pointing out to you that you have that option." Ser Arthur sat back up again.
  
  "Just think on it." He encouraged Davos. Both men sat side by side and contemplated the stars in silence.
  
  Ser Arthur hesitated a while and then decided to confide his selfish fear to Davos Seaworth. "You know Davos, you worry about what difficulties lie ahead for Jon in the South. I apparently am much more selfish. One of my worst nightmares is the possibility that after the threat here is dealt with, our Prince will just fly south and if his quest for the Iron Throne goes smoothly, I will be stuck here in the North. If we leave the very same day as him and travel to King's Landing by conventional means, even in the best of circumstances it will still take us more than a moon to catch up with him. After dedicating seventeen years of my life to his cause, I know I will be devastated if I were to miss the moment our Prince alias Aegon Targaryen ascends the Iron Throne and takes up his rightful position as the True King."
  
  "Me too." Davos admitted. "That is not selfish, that is normal. We are human after all. Besides we love the boy and want to share his moment of triumph. I for one am certain he would be devastated if we were not there to witness it and would delay his coronation for both our sakes. But I hardly ever venture so far in my thoughts. I am scared to tempt fate."
  
  Another long silence ensued. Again it was Ser Arthur who ended it.
  
  "I am getting tired of sitting out here and will try to catch some sleep. Hopefully our Prince will be back soon with all the information we need. Even though I really do trust him not to do something stupid, I will be very glad once he is safely back and I can go back to guarding him be it in an informal way not up to court standards." Ser Arthur got up with a small smile on his face.
  
  "You won't be the only one who will be glad to see our dragonrider return, Ser Arthur. And thanks, you've given me some good advice and several things to ponder over. Never forget that even the very famous reputation of Sword of the Morning is not enough to describe your worth to our Prince. Perhaps I should feel threatened by you. Years of attending strategy meetings have made you a plausible candidate for Hand of the King as well. Perhaps I will leave you in charge if I decide to board a ship at Eastwatch." He got up as well and both men walked back to the tent that they would once more share with Benjen Stark, Rykker and Stokeworth tonight. Jon of course was still somewhere far North and Sandor hadn't slept with them for a single night since arriving at the settlement.
  
  "Who would have thought we would see so little of Clegane. Sandor seems to be having the time of his life here." Ser Arthur remarked.
  
  "I hope he will still want to leave this settlement when it is time." Davos chuckled at the thought of Sandor as a ladies man.
  
  Jon returned after an absence of a sennight. Ghost was the first one at his side. The wolf tempered his greeting when he felt how exhausted his human was. Soon everyone flocked around him eager to hear the news he brought. He silently handed Davos a few scrolls explaining he had made a quick stop at Castle Black. He motioned Tormund and Sandor to take the two bags that lay at his feet. A collective gasp and some exclamations of admirations went through the small crowd when they unwrapped the masterfully crafted daggers, spearheads and axe heads.
  
  Jon waited for the exclamations to die down and told them his friend Gendry should receive all the credit. Then he reached into his other pocket and took out a map of the North. He kneeled down, unfolded the map and put in on the ground in front of him so all could see the markings he had made in the far north. He pointed to several markings on the map.
  
  "They are recruiting animals now. The dead." He clarified when he got some strange looks. "They are recruiting bears, wolves, shadow cats, basically everything they encounter that is big enough to matter. For some reason they are really far up north. It took me a while before I spotted the first wights. I can safely say it will take them more than a moon to reach us here or at Eastwatch."
  
  Davos who stood next to Jon with the scrolls he had just been handed looked down at Jon a questioning look in his eyes. "Castle Black, Jon? Was that wise?" he whispered only for Jon to hear.
  
  Jon sighed. "Perhaps, I don't know. I'll tell you all about that after I have rested and perhaps eaten a bit. In short, Gendry is all right. The scrolls I handed to you are from Winterfell, from Ser Gerold and from Yara Greyjoy. Prince Oberyn has arrived at Winterfell and will perhaps already be on his way to Castle Black. I received a personal message from Edric inside a scroll from Robb that I need to think about and a short note from Ser Gerold that just confirms their safe arrival at the Driftmark. No mention of the situation on Dragonstone yet. Yara reports Euron Greyjoy is sailing past Dorne and is rumoured to be heading for the Stormlands. Nothing from Varys, a short message from Lord Stark sent from somewhere on the Narrow Sea, nothing from Pentos."
  
  Davos noticed Jon's dejected look when he finished his brief report. He knew all too well Jon was worried about the lack of news from Pentos. He dismissed everyone for the time being and ushered Jon inside their tent. Ghost nudged Davos aside and entered the tent as if it was his divine right.
  
  Davos looked at Ghost and belatedly asked, "Jon, are your dragons all right?"
  
  "They will be when they can hunt some proper food. It was not easy to find large game once we were close to the enemy. The dead really decimated the wild life up there." Jon removed his coat and looked for a place to put it.
  
  Davos took the heavy cloak from him, folded it and put it in an empty corner. "Sit down, son. I'll see to it that some hot water is brought to you and some food as well. Rest first. We can talk later. Nothing is that urgent. Is there anything else you need for now?"
  
  Jon sat down and signalled Ghost to put his head on his lap. He absently stroked the fur of his direwolf's neck when he questioned Davos with a worried look on his face. "Davos, where is Uncle Benjen?"
  
  "He volunteered to go check on Gendry and to collect the messages at Castle Black. Could he have seen you fly past him, do you think?" Davos looked expectantly at his Prince.
  
  "I didn't take the trouble to look. I am sorry. I had done nothing but scan the ground for a sennight and was taking it easy on that part of the flight. I don't even remember if there was cloud cover the entire time. I only recall that I flew above the clouds when I approached Castle Black. I am sorry, Davos."
  
  "Don't be. You didn't know your uncle was down there and you've certainly been doing the heavy lifting for now."
  
  Rykker and Val entered the tent at that point. Rykker brought a bucket of hot water and Val a steamy dish that smelled heavenly to Jon and some ale as well. Davos accepted the refreshments from Val, told Rykker where to leave the bucket and then gently ushered them out while conveying his thanks.
  
  He sat down next to Jon and looked at him. "Castle Black, Jon? Did Ser Jaime or Prince Renly spot the dragons? Did they confront you?"
  
  Jon looked at his plate, trying to think of a good reason to postpone talking about this subject but not finding one. "Perhaps we should ask Ser Arthur to join us for this conversation. I am in no mood to explain myself more than once."
  
  Davos looked at him as if trying to read all the answers from his face. When his eyes fell on the plate of food that was still untouched, he relented.
  
  "Come on, son. Your food is getting cold. Eat something and refresh yourself. I'll fetch Ser Arthur and will return when you had ample time to finish your dinner and cleaned yourself up a bit."
  
  Jon nodded and looked at his plate again.
  
  When Davos returned with Ser Arthur, they found their Prince passed out from exhaustion in the same spot where Davos had left him, his direwolf slumbering next to him. At least the plate of food was half empty. Davos took the heavy cloak back from where he had put it earlier and covered the young man.
  
  Now he would have to wait to hear what had happened exactly at Castle Black. He only hoped the situation did not need immediate attention and that Benjen Stark would not enter a hornet's nest unknowingly.
  
  Interlude 18: Breaking the stalemate
  
  The view was simply majestic. Although he had studied the map of Westeros and had expected that the carved out coastlines of the Fingers in the Vale would be quite picturesque, nothing had prepared him for the impressive sight the mountains of the moon formed. He admired the vast chain of mountains with impressive peaks that were close-knit. Each mountain top seemed to strive for dominance over its neighbour. No wonder the area had never been conquered by a conventional army. It looked impenetrable.
  
  The Eyrie itself was situated on the highest peak. Jon looked at it from afar but kept to the plan and descended just enough to fly at a slow pace between the mountains ridges. Both dragons made sure to stay out of view of the fortress to land in the woods near the Bloody Gate. Confident that Lord Stark would have given Lord Royce at least a hint of his arrival he walked up to the Gate alone. He was aware that Rhaegal was peeking through the bushes, his green head hardly visible to the unsuspecting eye. Viserion had reluctantly agreed to keep his distance for now.
  
  The first part of the plan went smoothly. Lord Royce was summoned and Jon had little trouble persuading the man that he was not a threat but a most welcome ally that was capable of breaking the stalemate in one fell swoop. His resemblance to Lord Stark was the most helpful factor. Lord Royce admitted his first thought upon seeing the young man was that the rumours were true and that he stood before the son of the deceased Brandon Stark and the rightful heir to Winterfell.
  
  For once Jon did not hesitate. Following Howland Reed's instructions he revealed his true parentage. He stressed that his uncle, Lord Stark with the collaboration of several powerful allies had been laying the groundwork for a Targaryen restoration for seventeen years already. He quickly refuted the lies that were spread about his parents' relationship and gave a short summary of what really had happened in the aftermath of the Rebellion. He convinced him that they were on the verge of taking the throne away from Robert Baratheon with minimal bloodshed and that an important step in their plan was to take Littlefinger out of the game. Although they had sufficient evidence, a confession from Lysa Arryn would seal the traitor's fate irrevocably.
  
  The loyal knight of the Val was totally on board when Jon promised that in exchange for his support he would name Lord Yohn of House Royce the regent of the Vale until Robin Arryn was old and healthy enough to take over his duties. In any event Lord Yohn Royce was guaranteed a position on the small council as soon as Jon or rather Aegon Targaryen was officially proclaimed King of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Soon enough two dozen knights led by Lord Royce were making the ascent. Just before they reached the steep, narrow mountain path where they might come under attack from the archers or be besieged by stones or oil, Jon showed up with his two dragons. He easily neutralised the handful of guards that half-heartedly defended the fortress because they were left now choice by their increasingly irrational Lady. They stood down at his first command and looked almost relieved in spite of the uncommon view the two large dragons made.
  
  Jon left Viserion in place and ascended the rest of the mountain until he could circle over the inner courtyard. As predicted by Reed, Robin Arryn came running up to him, excited to see a real life dragon. Jon trapped the boy in the corner of the courtyard with Rhaegal's large body. The dragon's tale barricaded the door the boy came through so no one else could enter the courtyard from inside the castle. Jon dismounted and talked to the boy of the amazing things he saw when he flew over Westeros and reassured him that the dragon was very friendly if he behaved. He gave Rhaegal a few minor commands, like puff some smoke, lift your head toward the sky and breath a small flame, nod yes, shake no. The nine year old clapped his hands after each trick and Jon had trouble answering all his questions since the young Lord hardly listened to any of his answers before coming up with a new one.
  
  When finally Yohn Royce climbed into the courtyard from the mountainside the little boy was quite enthusiastic to see the knight and asked if he had finally arrived to teach him to fight with his new sword. The knight easily lifted the boy in his arms and promised him that from now on he would receive daily lessons. The boy clapped his hands once more and gave Lord Royce a kiss on his cheeks. "I told mama you would come to see me but she wouldn't believe me. Can I visit your place and play with all the children again?" Jon looked flabbergasted. Everything went literally as Lord Reed had told him. Never before had a vision of Lord Reed been so detailed and so accurate. He instructed Rhaegal to release his hold on the door and the knights that had made the ascent with Lord Royce soon had Lysa Arryn in custody.
  
  A satisfied Lord Royce smiled when he told Jon that there was not a single casualty and that all the guards that had been forced to defend the Eyrie had immediately surrendered to him and been pardoned.
  
  Jon stayed at the Eyrie that night and cemented his bond with Lord Royce. They decided that Bronze Yohn himself would lead the party that escorted Lysa Arryn to King's Landing to stand trial. Once there Royce would ask for a private audience with Lord Eddard Stark. Depending on the outcome, the Vale would either pledge their support to the Targaryen cause or stay neutral. He also promised to make every effort to convince his people not to spread rumours about the presence of dragons at the Vale and Lord Royce would keep Jon's parentage a secret for now. Jon left for the Driftmark with the assurance that at the very least the knights of the Vale would not take up arms against him.
  
  End notes:
  
  Is it Varys or Littlefinger that will be humiliated in chapter 19?
  
  In the interlude Jon for once lets his feelings take over from his brain. He confronts Jaime Lannister at Castle Black.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The trial
  Chapter 19: The trial
  
  Summary:
  
  Is it Varys or Littlefinger that will be humiliated in this chapter?
  
  In the interlude, Jon for once lets his feelings take over from his brain. He confronts Jaime Lannister at Castle Black.
  
  Notes:
  
  I sometimes change GRRM's characters a little bit. I did this time with Robin Arryn and to a small extent with Lysa Arryn as well. In my universe Robin is a kind child of mediocre intelligence but his unconventional upbringing has hindered his development and he is more childlike than his peers.
  
  The wind blew hard out here on the open water. Eddard Stark stood at the railing on the front deck watching the waves play with the ship. It was fascinating for a man who lived on land his entire life to see how easily nature lifted the large, heavy vessel up only to let if fall back to its original height just to start the process all over again. During this voyage the Lord of Winterfell had learned he had sea legs and no matter how rough the sea got, his stomach never felt the tiniest bit queasy. Ned welcomed the feeling of the wind sweeping past his face and didn't mind that it put his hair and clothes in disarray. It had a refreshing effect. It felt as if the wind lifted up his troubles and they seemed significantly lighter somehow when they fell back into place. It was no wonder he often found himself at this spot. Mostly they left him alone out here. The southerners of the royal retinue didn't like to face the elements and his northern guards knew of his habits and preferences and kept a respectful distance. Ned spotted Gawen on the other side of the deck and knew the man was discreetly guarding him. That was another thing he would have to get used to. With his new position and the political games in the capital, he would always have to walk around with sufficient protection. Even if the culprit who murdered Jon Arryn would be eliminated soon, there were always others who would seek to gain something by harming the Hand of the King.
  
  They were approaching King's Landing and would dock tomorrow morning. He looked forward to receiving tidings from home. He wondered whether his wife's anger had subsided somewhat by now. Their last night at Winterfell, he had made her promise not to take her frustrations out on their children. He had reminded Catelyn that she just needed a bit more patience. Soon enough things would change for the better. He would invite her to the capital the very moment the situation was stable after the change in power. Everyone at the new King's court would bow to her as the Starks would be the most prominent house in Westeros as they were the closest kin to the true King. A King that realised all too well that he owed everything to house Stark and loved them all dearly. Even if Aegon Targaryen took a wife, she still would be the second most important woman in the Realm.
  
  He knew his wife well enough to understand that this was the best argument he could make to soften the blow of her having to stay behind in the North. But when she took it in stride that Bran would be fostered out to Howland Reed for a year or longer, Ned had not been fooled. He saw right through her easy acceptance and was certain that she was already thinking of ways to entice Lord Reed and his family to the capital once she lived there. Well, no harm in letting her believe that she would get her way. Ned would play it step by step for now.
  
  He worried about leaving Robb to deal with Roose Bolton. The morning of their departure, Ned had spoken briefly to the Lord of the Dreadfort. He had not outright promised to betroth Sansa to Domeric Bolton. Instead he had stalled for time by vowing on his honour of a Stark that he would not betroth his daughter to anyone else before House Bolton and House Stark reached a consensus on this matter. As proof of his good faith he had informed the Lord of his refusal to betroth his daughter to the King's son way before the revelations of the paternity of the royal children. He had tried to convince the man that he had braved the ire of his King for the sole reason of his unfinished negotiations with House Bolton. He had demanded twelve moons respite in light of the changed circumstances and his imminent departure for the capital. He hoped his honourable reputation had swayed the man and that Robb would have no trouble in removing Roose Bolton and his retinue from Winterfell.
  
  He was also eager to receive some news from the Wall and Dragonstone. He had several messages ready to send out in return. But most of all he wanted to hear a status report from Varys. He prayed that Littlefinger had not done too much damage presiding over the small council these last few sennights. It had been a small risk he had taken to keep the man's suspicions at bay and make him feel safe and confident enough to stay in the capital. Varys had reassured him that during a prolonged absence of both the King and his Hand, the council's authority was limited to insignificant local matters. And if Petyr Baelish would be so stupid as to abuse his temporary position for his personal gain, it would be just another thing to use against him during his trial.
  
  One night halfway through their sea voyage, Ned and Robert had ensconced themselves in Robert's large cabin with a large pitcher of ale as they usually did before retiring. Mostly on such occasions they discussed matters of state or reminisced about the past. That night however for some reason Robert had drunk a lot more than usual and had been rather intoxicated. This time his drunken mood had turned to self-pity. The King had cried in Ned's arms and had lamented for most of the evening.
  
  "I am feeling old Ned. And what have I got to show for my life? Nothing, not a single fucking thing."
  
  "You are in the prime of your life Robert. You still have a few namedays to go before you celebrate your fortieth nameday and you are the most powerful man in all of Westeros. The entire realm envies you. You have plenty to show for your life." Ned had discreetly moved Robert's cup out of his reach.
  
  "But I have no wife, no children. My only heirs are a fag of a brother who will not sire Baratheons and an older brother, who has no love for me. Stannis has never supported me and only has a daughter disfigured by greyscale. If I do not sire male children then House Baratheon dies with me."
  
  "Robert, Stannis may be a rigid, cold man but I always thought him to be honourable. If you sire no heirs there are other ways to let House Baratheon live on. You have sired plenty of male bastards already. If you legitimise one or more of them, you have someone of your precious Baratheon blood to continue your house." Ned had immediately thought of Jon's friends Gendry when he uttered these words. From the messages he had received he knew that the boy was loyal to Jon to a fault which meant a possible heir to Storm's End whose allegiance would be to House Targaryen.
  
  "Bastards are despicable, Ned. They will ruin the reputation of my house." The King eyes had turned red from crying and he had looked like a small child that felt that it had been treated unfairly.
  
  "That's just some dogma the faith of the Seven came up with to encourage the men of Westeros to keep it in their pants and stay faithful to their wives. Come on Robert, we are men of the world. Surely you know better than that? At least let me search for your male bastards. I'll foster them out to noble families without revealing who sired them so they get a Lord's education. In the very unlikely event that years from now you do not have a true-born son, I'll arrange for you to meet them under some pretext or other and you can test their metal without revealing your motives." Ned had done his utmost to reason with the drunken man. The conversation had continued a while longer until Robert had lost all his dignity and Ned had felt like the most dishonest man in the entire history of Westeros.
  
  The next morning, both men had found it difficult looking each other in the eye. Eventually it had been Robert who had broken the ice.
  
  "I will not touch another drop of wine or ale before we arrive at King's Landing." He had declared with his loud booming voice. He had lowered his voice for his next statement. "Ignore anything I might have uttered last evening, Ned. I hardly remember any of it anyway."
  
  The King's behaviour though had made it obvious to Ned that the man had lied. Then Robert had put a hand on Ned's shoulder. "I have made a resolution Ned. I will start anew. Take a beautiful wife, enjoy siring lots of heirs and make an effort to become the kind of King my new family can look up to. And how can I not succeed with my very best friend at my side."
  
  The King who apparently hadn't suffered any physical repercussions of his drunken evening had enjoyed Ned's surprise and had thumped his Hand's shoulder again, this time with some force.
  
  "Come on, Lord Hand let us break our fast and start governing our realm. I vaguely recall you mentioning some ideas at the beginning of our trip."
  
  Robert had indeed stayed sober for the rest of the trip and together they had drafted several royal decrees they could put before the small council. With Robert this decisive and with his Hand's support the small council's input was a mere formality. They would just inform them of their decisions, explain their reforms and be done with it.
  
  First and foremost the King had finally formally acknowledged his brother Stannis of House Baratheon as the Lord of Storm's End and as the heir to the Iron Throne provided the King sired no male children. Ned had intentionally left the word 'true-born' out of the decree to have the loophole of legitimising one of the King's bastards.
  
  Next Ned had convinced Robert to refuse the right of a trial by combat to anyone accused of conspiring against the Crown who had been found guilty through irrefutable proof. A jury of nobles who swore upon their honour and to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms had to agree unanimously that the defendant was guilty without a sliver of a doubt. Ned had used the argument that no interference of the Gods was necessary if for example a murderer had committed his deed in front of several witnesses.
  
  Ned was glad he had also gotten the King to agree on another reform. Robert had put up some resistance at first. A new law decreed that a knight of the Kingsguard, a member of the City Watch or any armed man in the service of the Crown could be held accountable if he murdered someone without just cause or if he used his position to harm the weak, accept bribes, steal from or blackmail anyone. To neutralise Robert's objections, Ned had added a paragraph that stated that no one would be convicted without irrefutable proof, and that every knight was proclaimed innocent until proof of his guilt was deemed undeniable by a jury of at least three nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the law.
  
  They had also reviewed the evidence that they had gathered against Littlefinger. Ned really looked forward to that trial. He had asked Robert if he wanted to preside over the jury but Robert had told him to go ahead. Since Ned had masterminded most of the man's downfall, the King gladly relinquished his right to his Hand. He would make the effort of attending but it would be as a spectator who only showed up to watch an amusing play not to take an active part in it.
  
  Littlefinger made extra work of his appearance that morning. He checked if all his buttons were polished just right and attached the golden chain to his coat. Next, he inspected his looks in the tall mirror before him. His small pointed chin was cleanly shaven. The few threads of grey hair were camouflaged. His new tailor-made coat lent an aristocratic air to his slender build. Yes, he was ready. Ready to finally witness the demise of his long-time rival. Today was reckoning day for that bald headed upstart of a eunuch.
  
  After years of his schemes being thwarted, somehow the feared appointment of Eddard Stark as Hand of the King had been the best thing to happen to his campaign in years. Even before the inexperienced man arrived in King's Landing, Petyr had already profited from the change in power. Dearest Catelyn had almost begged him in her last scroll to help her ignorant husband with the unfamiliar politics of the capital. She had described how Ned had nightmares about his new role and she had only been able to calm him down by reassuring her husband that he had an ally in the capital in Peter Baelish who was a dear friend of hers and by extension of House Stark. After reading her plea, he was confident that he would be able to rule the capital through Eddard Stark. And sure enough, only days later an official decree had arrived that gave Lord Petyr of House Baelish the authority to temporarily preside over the small council in the absence of the King and his Hand.
  
  Varys had walked around with a dejected expression ever since and had avoided Baelish's company as much as possible. The Master of Whispers however could not avoid the small council meetings and there Littlefinger had made him cower before him. Never before had Lord Varys been so deferential to him. Yes, Petyr had won the fight. And it had gotten even better. The first order of business of the new Hand once he had settled in at the Tower of the Hand had been to summon Lord Baelish to a private meeting. Lord Stark hadn't hesitated to ask Petyr to make him familiar with each member of the small council's strengths and weaknesses. Baelish had taken the opportunity to cast suspicion of treason on Lord Varys and here they were. The Master of Whisperers had been apprehended and his trial was today.
  
  When Petyr Baelish entered the throne room at the very last moment so he could make a grand entrance, he was astonished to see how many people had turned up to witness the downfall of the Master of Whisperers. It appeared that every noble who had been close enough to reach to capital in time for the trial had shown up. He hadn't realised Varys was so hated by the population of Westeros. That knowledge would have made him much happier during all those years of doubting his ability to best the man.
  
  Eddard Stark greeted him with a nod of his head and subtly pointed to a witness stand that faced the high table and was conveniently located in the center of the open space. It would be the ideal place to sway all the jurors of the King's Court with his carefully prepared statements. Only the day before, Lord Stark had once more emphasised in a short private interview that the entire case hinged on his testimony. He was the Crown's most important witness. This was his moment to shine. He straightened his shoulders and like a bride entering the isle of a sept, he strode slowly but confidently to the spot where he would put the final nail in the coffin of his rival. When he arrived at the witness stand, he ignored the chair and stayed upright. He put his hands on the bannister that stood before the chair and looked expectantly at the six noble Lords that were seated at the high table. The Hand of the King rose from his chair and theatrically unfolded an unusually long scroll.
  
  "Lord Baelish you stand before the Hand of the King and the jurors of the King's Court all sworn to uphold the King's justice to answer to the charge of murder and treason. How do you answer those charges?"
  
  Lord Baelish looked at Lord Stark embarrassed by the man's enormous mistake. Surely he had meant to say Lord Varys when he addressed his accusation. Eddard Stark was obviously very nervous and had been confused by the sight of Petyr who stood right before him. When he saw the unwavering stare the Hand of the King fixed on him, doubt entered his mind. He turned his head left and then right frantically searching for the corpulent figure of the eunuch. He blanched when he saw the man next to the King, sitting up straight, a slight smirk on his face that was clearly meant for him.
  
  'No way in hell?! I have been played! I have been played with such brilliance that I never saw it coming. How in Seven Hells is this possible?' He swallowed and tried to focus his mind.
  
  'All is not lost. I am after all a master conniver, the very best at manipulating people. I will play these jurors like puppets on a string and have them apologise to me profusely afterwards. I will guilt trip them into giving me at least a Lord Paramount's position to make up for the dishonour they are bringing down on me by their ill-fated accusations.'
  
  "My Lord Hand? I do not understand. Have I not always served my King to the best of my abilities? I know not of what you speak, so I can only plead innocent." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Varys' smirk only grow more pronounced. He needed to focus. Lord Stark had started to answer and he had already missed his first words.
  
  "... well, Lord Baelish your plea will be noted. However, to make this official, I would have you state your innocence to each of the separate accusations I will lay before you. I want you to swear upon your honour that your answers will contain the absolute truth and that you will not conceal anything from us deliberately."
  
  Petyr Baelish had scrutinised Lord Stark's stern countenance but couldn't detect the slightest emotion. The man hadn't blinked when he pleaded innocent. Sweat started to appear on his forehead. He abstained from the urge to reach for the very fine handkerchief he had so carefully selected for this important day. He would not show weakness. He ignored the whispers from a treasonous crowd who seemed to take pleasure in his predicament and straightened his posture even more.
  
  "I swear upon the honour of my house and my faith in the Seven that I will only tell the truth before the jurors of the King's Court and will not lie by omission." He was satisfied when he heard his voice rang firm and knew he had sounded sincere, when he heard doubts being expressed by a few voices behind him. The reaction of the crowd strengthened his belief that all was not lost.
  
  "You stand accused of falsely implying that the Kingdom of Dorne was planning a rebellion with the help of a full grown dragon. How do you plead?" Lord Stark read the first accusation from the scroll.
  
  "Innocent. My Lord Hand, jurors of the King's Court, I made a grievous mistake based on reports manipulated by the Master of Whispers who is the real traitor. It is his trial we should be holding here." He spoke each word slow and articulate. 'This trial is nothing but a farce. They have no solid proof. I just need to stay calm and refute their stupid accusations. Casting the blame on someone else is always a good strategy, one that I master very well.'
  
  "These are serious charges, Lord Baelish. Do you have solid proof to put before the jurors of the King's Court today?" Ned Stark's reaction was clear and concise.
  
  "No, my Lord Hand. No more than you have of my alleged nefarious intent. I acted on the best intentions and wanted to warn the King about the situation in Dorne as soon as possible. I concede that I acted a bit hasty and did not verify the rumours before speaking up but that is my only crime."
  
  "Noted". Lord Stark indeed made a short inscription on the scroll. Before holding it up again and reading the second accusation. "You stand accused of conspiring with the Houses Frey, Bolton and Greyjoy to weaken the position of the Northern Kingdom."
  
  "Why ever would I do that my Lord Hand? Lady Catelyn has always been a true friend to me." Pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead. 'This was unexpected. However had they gotten wind of this?' He needed all his strength to keep the shock from showing on his face.
  
  "A true friend you wanted to marry long before my brother appeared on the scene. My Lords of the Jury, I am not impartial here. May I ask that Lord Royce as Master of Laws takes the lead in presenting the evidence?"
  
  Nobody objected. Soft murmurs from the audience could be heard when Lord Royce rose from his chair and accepted the large scroll from Eddard Stark.
  
  "May I state for the record that Lord Baelish has neither denied nor affirmed his guilt." After a theatrical pause he read from the scroll. "The evidence consists of several messages that were intercepted before they could reach Lord Walder of House Frey and Lord of the Twins. They reveal that the accused promised House Frey the position of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands if they could weaken the position of House Tully and lure part of the Northern army that Lord Eddard Stark would surely send in support of his good family to the Riverlands. In these messages he reveals that the Ironborn will also distract House Stark by attacking the shores of the Riverlands and the North and that House Bolton will perform its part to weaken House Stark."
  
  "Messages can be falsified, honourable jurors of the King's Court. I have never written such drivel. I am true to my King and a long-established friend of the Northern Kingdom. Somebody is plotting my downfall and I already know the culprit." Petyr turned his head towards Lord Varys who stayed eerily calm. The crowd really seemed to be on his side if he interpreted their shocked murmurs right. Petyr took heart in that.
  
  The old Grand Maester Pycelle who was one of the jurors spoke up with his old wavering voice. "I have examined these scrolls and compared them to other writings of Lord Baelish I had in my archives. He has a distinct way of writing his capital letters P, B and L. I am convinced that these messages were written by his hand. Several turns of phrases he often uses are repeated word for word in these messages. Upon my honour of Grand Maester I proclaim with absolute certainty that these messages are written by Lord Baelish."
  
  "Or by a master forger." Petyr Baelish objected immediately.
  
  "That would imply that you accuse the Grand Maester of being incompetent." Lord Royce was as unflappable as Lord Stark it seemed. Baelish listened with growing trepidation to his next statement.
  
  "We have also intercepted a scroll containing a cry for help from Lord Walder of House Frey when your messages stopped reaching his stronghold. I am sure that we can summon the head of House Frey to the capital to tell us in his own words what promises you have made him and on how many different occasions." Lord Royce countered.
  
  "A man will tell anything if you pay him enough gold." He tried once more to refute the charges.
  
  "That is certainly true of Lord Frey." Eddard Stark interrupted. "I suggest we do not waste the time of the Crown's Court any more than necessary and move on to more serious accusations."
  
  The ominous tone of Lord Stark's voice and the intentional pause captured the imagination of the audience. You could hear a pin drop as the audience held their breath to hear what was more serious than treason. Baelish swallowed and prayed the man would get on with it so he could discredit his next ridiculous charge that was probably dreamt up by Varys anyway.
  
  "You also stand accused of conspiring to murder Jon Arryn, the late Hand of King Robert. How do you plead?"
  
  'Seven Hells, they had gotten to Lysa.' Petyr looked around and saw several men from the Vale but no sign of Lysa Arryn. He had been slightly worried she might be in the capital as soon as he had noticed that Lord Yohn of House Royce was one of the jurors. "Not guilty, my Lord Hand." He kept his voice even. He needed to keep the crowd convinced of his supposed innocence. He saw Lord Royce hand the long scroll back to Lord Stark who immediately started to read from it.
  
  "We have the confession of Arryn's widow. And I quote: I murdered my Lord Husband urged by and with the help of Lord Baelish. He provided the poison 'Tears of Lys' that I then administered to my husband. My motives were a future marriage with Lord Baelish and the promise that he would help my son on the Iron Throne by marrying him to Shireen Baratheon. end quote. According to Lysa Arryn, Lord Baelish somehow knew long before any of us that the royal children were not fit to succeed their father." Lord Stark looked pointedly at him now.
  
  Petyr swallowed. "Ravings of a mad woman. She has always wanted to get her claws into me." He made sure he remained the picture of calm and confidence. The sweat however was now pouring down his face and soiling the shirt of his new outfit.
  
  "And I presume her two loyal servants are mad as well according to you, Lord Baelish? They confirmed everything Lady Arryn told us when we questioned them even though they were not present to hear Lady Arryn's original confession. Even her son, the young Lord Arryn told us how you would not leave his mother alone and were always whispering in her ear when you visited."
  
  "All lies. Everybody knows that woman is unstable and her simple-minded son has apparently inherited his mother's madness, the poor lad." This time some of his panic was noticeable in the tone of his voice. Petyr felt the muscles of his face getting sore from the effort it took to keep a blank, benevolent expression on his face.
  
  An ear-piercing shriek made everyone turn their heads to the left entrance. Lysa Arryn stood there between two guards of House Stark easily recognisable by the direwolf sigil on their gambeson. "Liar! My Sweetrobin is the kindest boy that ever lived and smart as hell. You tricked me and made a murderess out of me. I should never have believed you. You are a false snake, always polite and smiling to everyone's face and then besmirching their reputation as soon as they turn their backs. I haven't told my good brother and the other Lords half of what you have mentioned to me."
  
  "My Lords, jurors of the King's Court, can you make that woman stop screaming, please? My ears are hurting and her testimony has no value." Things were not going well. Petyr was starting to get desperate. 'How could I not have seen this coming? They have seen through most of my schemes.'
  
  "No value, no value? I have value all right!" Lady Arryn approached the high table where the jurors were seated. She was determined to make vile lying Petyr pay for his slight against her son. She tried to keep her voice level, knowing it was very important everyone believed what she was about to say next.
  
  "My Lords, jurors of the King's Court, I admit that I made many mistakes and the only thing I can say in my defense is that I was played by a masterful manipulator. I am willing to pay for my crimes but I would like to have the opportunity to present new evidence to the King's Court."
  
  Total silence fell over the room. Eddard Stark looked at his fellow jurors and then studied Baelish's demeanour. The man was pale as a ghost and sweating profusely.
  
  "Lysa, dearest," Littlefinger pleaded "I love you. I only said those things because I was desperate and could think of no other way to defend myself from these false accusations."
  
  "Silence, Lord Baelish. You will have a chance at rebuttal after Lady Arryn has presented her information to the King's Court." He addressed the crowd. "I ask everyone present to remain silent." Next Ned Stark looked at Lysa Arryn. His stern features softened visibly to give her courage. "Go ahead, Lady Arryn. The Crown's Court can hear you out now."
  
  Lord Stark and everyone else was keen to hear what the woman would accuse Littlefinger of this time.
  
  "What I am going to tell you all is the absolute truth. I swear it on the well-being of my only son. I have lived with the burden of this secret long enough and that vile man is no longer worth another day of my protection." She swallowed and kept her gaze away from Petyr Baelish.
  
  "Lysa dearest, think about what you are doing, please." Petyr gave up all pretence of calm and sounded desperate now.
  
  "If we hear one more word out of you before you are given permission by this Court, we will gag you Lord Baelish."
  
  Petyr stayed silent for now but wondered at Lord Stark's composure. The man was the epitome of justice standing there all high and mighty at his high table amongst his puppet Lords who were somehow all dancing to his tune.
  
  Lysa Arryn turned to face the seat where King Robert was following the proceedings. "Your Grace, forgive me if I am causing you pain with what I am about to reveal here, but it cannot be helped. The truth is that on that fateful night when Lyanna Stark disappeared all those years ago, she gave me a letter to hand over to her brother Lord Brandon of House Stark. I read it together with Petyr, I mean the accused, Lord Baelish. He was already paying me a lot of attention at that time, you see. In the letter Lyanna Stark explained how she had fallen in love with Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and that she planned to elope with him."
  
  Shouts of dismay and disbelief could be heard from all corners of the hall. "Silence!" Lord Stark's voice deep and resonant put a halt to the exclamations. "Pray, continue Lady Arryn." He once more coaxed her into speaking.
  
  "As I said, she eloped with him." Lysa Arryn repeated. "The letter also mentioned that they planned to marry in secret as soon as the Prince succeeded in getting his marriage annulled by the High Septon. Lord Baelish persuaded me to conceal the message. Back then I was really convinced that we performed a good deed by not hurting your Grace's feelings as Lyanna's betrothed by withholding the letter. I am so sorry, my King. When things started escalating and I wanted to come forward, Lord Baelish burned the letter. He laughed at me and said nobody would believe me now if I spoke up. Recently, Petyr, I mean Lord Baelish confessed to me it was all a ploy to create chaos in the realm so he could benefit in its aftermath."
  
  Several gasps could be heard. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder once more. The jurors were visibly shocked. Lord Stark appeared to be the only one who kept his cool. Once more he ordered the room to be silent. He had to threaten to have the spectators removed before order was restored enough for him to addressed Lysa Arryn one last time.
  
  "Thank you Lady Arryn. Please take a seat and keep silent during the rest of the proceedings." A discreet nod to his houseguard and they led Lady Arryn to a seat against the left wall. Then he fixed Littlefinger with a determined stare.
  
  "Lord Baelish, you stand accused of plotting the Rebellion against House Targaryen and are consequently complicit to the murders of Prince Rhaegar, Lord Rickard of House Stark ruling Lord of Winterfell at that time, of Brandon of House Stark and of thousands of nobles, knights and valiant soldiers on both sides who defended their bannermen and lost their lives in the process. How do you plead?"
  
  "Not guilty, my Lord Hand. I consider the testimony of Lady Arryn as false."
  
  Lord Stark noticed from the corner of his eye that the King was using a small door behind his chair to leave the courtroom without drawing attention to his person. He felt for his erstwhile friend. To him the revelation that Lord Baelish had indirectly caused the death of his father and brother had been unexpected and he still reeled from the shock. The King however had been proclaimed a spurned suitor in open court. This was not a good development. He needed to keep his wits about him though. If he was not careful, that slimy bastard could still wriggle his sorry arse from under their noses. He needed to put his personal feelings this revelation had caused aside. He used all his energy to fix Littlefinger with an unwavering stare.
  
  "Lord Petyr of House Baelish, I would be inclined to believe you if there were just one person who conspired against you. But when several honourable men from all over the Seven Kingdoms come forth with compelling evidence against you, I would be considered a fool to still believe you. The word of one man against the many."
  
  "You have no right to accuse me of anything. You are nothing. You are not even the rightful Lord of Winterfell." Again horrifying gasps could be heard throughout the courtroom.
  
  "Lord Stark is not on trial here, Lord Baelish." Lord Royce had risen once again. Receiving a nod of approval from the Hand of the King he continued. "Please do tell. You are accusing everyone of lying or being mad. I am curious as to what you will lay at the feet of the most honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Pray continue."
  
  "Lord Stark has stolen Winterfell from its rightful heir. Lord Brandon Stark sired a trueborn son before he died. The young man has reached adulthood and has currently been spotted in the North. He will soon claim his inheritance and he will succeed since he has at least one dragon at his command."
  
  "Can you provide proof of this fantastic tale? Is there a Septon who married Lord Brandon? Are there witnesses or documents that can prove the young man is who you claim him to be? Has the young pretender come forward? Have any of the nobles present in the throne room today been approached to support this alleged heir's claim to Winterfell? Has anyone present here seen a dragon with their own eyes? Can anyone link the alleged heir to Winterfell to this dragon?" Lord Royce's voice boomed loudly so even the servants standing in the back of the room could hear every word loud and clear.
  
  You could hear a pin drop in the room. "Now is the time to speak up." Lord Royce tried once more when nobody spoke up. "Can anyone lend credence to the tale we just heard out of the mouth of the accused?"
  
  Lord Royce turned his head back to Lord Stark. "You can continue where you left off, Lord Hand."
  
  "Thank you Lord Royce. I believe I was just about to summarise before the King's Court the list of the most prominent persons who have come forward to accuse Petyr Baelish. This in order to refute Lord Baelish's claim that everything was fabricated." Eddard Stark held up his hand to prevent Lord Baelish from interrupting.
  
  "I, Eddard Stark can put before the King's Court years of correspondence between the accused and my wife. In the early years he defamed my good name and urged her to get an annulment so he could propose marriage to her himself. During that time several attempts were made on my life and even on my firstborn son. He urged her to spy for him and used several revelations that my wife in her innocence revealed to him against us, information about our trade deals or issues the North struggled with at a particular time.
  
  Prince Oberyn of House Martell is willing to testify how he found a dead raven by the road when he travelled across the Riverlands. Attached to the raven's leg was a message from Lord Baelish to Lord Walder of House Frey. The Prince will swear how he then proceeded to actively intercept several communications between both Lords. The word of a Prince of Dorne and the testimony of Grand Maester Pycelle should be enough to convince the sworn nobles that the messages laid out before the King's Court earlier today are indeed authentic.
  
  Grand Maester Pycelle not only authenticated the messages, he can confirm that the symptoms of Lord Arryn's short bout of illness before he died were indeed consistent with the known effects of the poison called 'Tears of Lys'. He can also show you the entry in his diary where he noted that a vial of that particular poison went missing in his cabinet. The jurors of the King's Court have been allowed to review the entry and can all attest that on that same page it is mentioned that on the morning of that exact same day Lord Baelish visited the Grand Maester to ask for a remedy against an itch he claimed to suffer from.
  
  Yara of House Greyjoy a leading house of the Iron Islands can be called to testify that her Uncle, Euron Greyjoy loudly proclaims that he has been promised independence from the Seven Kingdoms by someone in the capital and will wear a Crown soon. She investigated the matter and has handed the jurors of the King's Court a scroll written by Lord Baelish that proves he is the instigator. This scroll has also been examined by Grand Maester Pycelle who swears it is written by the hand of the accused.
  
  Lord Yohn of House Royce of the Vale can attest to Lord Baelish effectively sabotaging the education of the young heir Robin Arryn and can showcase ample examples of the accused using his influence to rule over the Vale through Lysa Arryn and going against the Crown's orders and the realm's best interest.
  
  Lady Olenna of House Tyrell came forward with evidence of several promises he made to the Reach, promises of false marriage alliances, promotions and exemptions from trade taxes the King had not granted him the authority for.
  
  Lord Tyrion of House Lannister of the Rock accuses Lord Baelish of siphoning off funds. He has spent the last moon revising copied pages of the book where income and expenditures of the Crown are recorded by Lord Baelish as the King's Master of Coin and has found irrefutable proof of the accused falsifying figures to the effect that large quantities of gold rightfully belonging to the Crown are missing.
  
  And let us not forget Lady Arryn's most serious accusations of instigating murder and treasonous actions even going so far back as nineteen years.
  
  I can go on citing testimonies of tradesmen that were bribed, servants that were coerced in doing his bidding and so on but I will not take up more time from the King's Court than absolutely necessary.
  
  Lord Baelish, do you still claim all these honourable men from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms think you so important that they all worked together to create false evidence? That every single one of them would forego their honour and lie even under oath? Do you still plead innocent?"
  
  Never before had a room full of nobles been so enthralled by such a long speech. Usually their attention drifted at some point and murmurs would start up, throwing the speaker off balance. However this time, every last person had been riveted and even when the Lord Hand stopped presenting his case, the silence remained. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear how Lord Baelish, Master of Coin would respond to this enormous amount of serious accusations.
  
  Lord Baelish realised he had lost. They hadn't even needed the testimony of Lord Varys. Eddard Stark hadn't used half of the misdeeds the eunuch knew he had perpetrated. At one point, the King had looked ready to murder him and the crowd was no longer on his side. His mind was working overtime. There had to be a way out. It was not possible that everything he had worked on for so long, that all his clever plotting had only gotten him to this point.
  
  A sudden idea struck him. 'Perhaps there was a way out. At the very least, it would gain him time and someone could help him escape. He could sweet talk a guard into letting him go surely.'
  
  He tried to keep his voice steady but it rose higher than he wished when he shouted "I demand a trial by combat."
  
  "First the jury must vote. If they find the proof irrefutable, a convicted traitor to the Crown has no right to a trial by combat." Lord Stark explained in a calm voice.
  
  Petyr looked astounded. He gulped and finally gave in and reached for his handkerchief. Appearances be damned, this trickling sweat was getting on his nerves. He wiped his face clean, put the piece of cloth away slowly and looked into the eyes of his tormentor.
  
  "I am sorry, my Lord Hand. Could you elaborate, please? I am not aware of the existence of such a decree."
  
  "I will gladly to do so after the vote. My Lords, sworn jurors of the King's Court, I ask you formally to speak up and let us know whether you are absolutely sure that enough proof has been presented to the jurors of the King's Court to convict the accused, Lord Petyr of House Baelish for the murder of Lord Arryn and for conspiring against the Crown and endangering the peace in the Seven Kingdoms on multiple occasions. I must ask you to search your conscience and only say 'aye' if you are convinced without a sliver of a doubt that the accused is a traitor and a murderer who should be punished accordingly."
  
  One by one the jurors called out a resounding 'aye' that could be heard by everyone in the large throne room. Lord Stark was the last one to do so.
  
  "Petyr Baelish you have been found guilty through irrefutable proof by a jury of nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and in accordance to the ' Traitor's Law' of which I will give you an official transcript, you are refused the right of trial by combat. This is a law ratified by the High Septon. When irrefutable proof is laid before men, they do not need to trouble the Gods to decide whether the accused is guilty."
  
  "Guards, take him to the black cells where he will remain in solitary confinement until the King decides whether he will commute the normal punishment of death for a traitor to the Crown to lifelong service at the Wall or not. I hereby declare this case closed. The jurors of the King's Court are officially dismissed."
  
  A dumbstruck Petyr Baelish left the room between the two Stark guards without actually registering what he was doing or where he was going. Not a single sign was left of the gleeful proud man that had entered with his head high at the beginning of the session. The crowd saw a crestfallen man leave the room with an empty gaze in his eyes, his head bowed. He reacted neither to their sneers nor their insults. In fact he was in such a daze he probably didn't even hear them.
  
  When the doors of his cell closed with a loud bang he startled and looked up for the very first time. Taking in the empty space he decided to seat himself on the cold floor in a corner. He rested his head against the stone wall. 'I have been defeated, entirely and irrevocably by players I have underestimated big-time. I have lost the Game of Thrones. Or perhaps not entirely. I have one tiny consolation left, one last play up my sleeve. There still is a small chance that Lord Stannis Baratheon will consent to the betrothal of Shireen Baratheon and Robin Arryn. My blood could someday sit on the Iron Throne. That oblivious Lord Arryn never suspected he has given a bastard his honourable name. My bastard!'
  
  Lord Eddard Stark left the Great Hall and went in search of Robert Baratheon. He still couldn't afford to let himself feel. He needed to keep himself together for a little while longer. He had seen the King sneak out of the room shortly after Lady Arryn's confession and needed to confront him first. He found him in his bedroom staring at a pitcher of wine. "Robert?"
  
  "Don't worry, Ned. I haven't touched it yet. I am still debating who is the bigger fool. We all fought a war over a lie. Granted, King Aerys was mad, but we were all on the same side at one time. We all plotted to support Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we had a start of a plan in place but then the Mad King showed up at the tourney of Harrenhal and we had to delay. Did you know she didn't love me, Ned?" His blue Baratheon eyes looked pleadingly at his friend.
  
  "Don't answer me. I can read the truth of your face. But I would have made her love me. I would have worshipped the ground she walked on and given her everything she wanted." He sighed and looked down at a drawing of Lyanna Ned didn't know he possessed. "No, that's not true. Not everything. She wanted Prince Rhaegar. I would never have allowed her go to him. I would have chained her to me against her will. I would have made her unhappy, Ned. I do not know what aspect about all of this hurts me the most. I loved her wild spirit but I would have broken it. I can see that now. Why couldn't I see it then?"
  
  Ned didn't think Robert really expected an answer of him. So he kept silent and tried to keep all his own memories of his sister from surfacing. He carried some of the same guilt. Benjen had realised she would never be happy with the marriage they were forcing on her. Ned who prided himself that he loved his sister above all else had been confident at the time that his father had chosen the very best of husbands for her and he had looked forward to their union with joy. Just as Robert, he had not had an inkling of the real reason of her flight at first. He looked at his friend and noticed Robert still sat in the same position and had started talking again.
  
  "I never told you how Littlefinger was always whispering these vile stories about Prince Rhaegar in my ear. My younger self was too convinced of my own importance, of my looks and only too willing to believe the traitor. Baelish fooled us all, didn't he? Did he fool you about Prince Rhaegar as well?"
  
  "Littlefinger never approached me, Robert. You were the Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I was only a second son back then and of no consequence for his games. I hardly knew Prince Rhaegar before all of this happened. But that is no excuse. I knew of his amiable reputation, how the Prince was loved by the smallfolk. I should have suspected something was off. I might not have known Prince Rhaegar but I knew my sister. Lyanna would have resisted and raised hell if someone had tried to abduct her. To succeed in taking her against her will without alerting at least someone, Prince Rhaegar should have planned his move way in advance with lots of help from others. All these rumours about him were so outlandish, so out of character. We were all played masterfully by Lord Baelish." Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Robert, this all happened so long ago and has no bearings on our situation now. You had just decided to start afresh."
  
  "I know, but please allow me to wallow at least a little bit. I had this dream, granted a tragic dream, but now that I know for sure that she never loved me, I don't even have that dream any longer. All my memories of her have been compromised by this knowledge. Just leave me in peace for a while will you?" Robert couldn't look the brother of his former betrothed in the eyes.
  
  Ned however stayed right where he was. "I can't. Not just yet. After you left, some accusations were levelled against me at the trial. I want you to hear them from me instead of from someone else who wants to use this to set us up against each other." Ned needed Robert to hear him out.
  
  The King gave him a fleeting glance before he averted his eyes once more. "They would not succeed, Ned. Who is it that dares to accuse someone of House Stark at my court?"
  
  "Littlefinger."
  
  "Then why are you worried that I would believe that vile person over you? Not a chance in all Seven Hells!" Robert seemed revived all of a sudden. He was able to look Ned straight in the eyes and confronted Ned's gaze. "I must admit though, you have made me rather curious. Now I really want to hear what this traitor threw at you in his hour of desperation."
  
  "He accused me of stealing Winterfell from its rightful heir. According to him my elder brother sired a trueborn son before he died. He claims that the young man has reached adulthood and has been spotted in the North. According to Baelish, he waited until he is old enough before claiming his inheritance." Ned steeled himself for another outburst but knew it was better Robert heard it from him. If he was present when Robert heard this last titbit, he could immediately counter any irrational behaviour or action from him. "Littlefinger also implied that that young man and the alleged owner of the dragon are one and the same."
  
  Robert looked at his friend for a long time. To Ned's surprise his expression was calm and steady when he finally spoke up. "If you vow before me that to the best of your knowledge no living son of Brandon exists, I will believe you, Ned."
  
  "That is an easy one, Robert. I vow on my honour as a Stark and on the lives of all five of my children that I do not know of the existence of a son, true-born or bastard sired by my brother Brandon of House Stark. The Old Gods may strike me down this instant if this is not the absolute truth." His words were true but he had to muster all his strength to keep the guilt that welled up inside him from showing on his face.
  
  "Matter closed." The King stated. "Do investigate the rumours about those dragons or dragon though. It gives me the creeps each time I hear someone mentioning these flying abominations. Perhaps that young man is just a sellsword of the Golden Company who has similar features to the members of House Stark, dark hair, grey eyes, you know."
  
  "I'll go straight to the source of the rumours each time I hear about them." Ned promised ambiguously and tried to avoid facing his conflicted feelings for now by finding something else to focus on. "Come on Robert. Get up from your bed. Let's go hunt some boar or something. I need to get rid of all this pent up energy and frustration after being stuck the entire morning in that courtroom. Perhaps we can relax our minds and come up with an original way to punish Littlefinger." Ned reached his hand out to pull the King from his bed.
  
  "A boar hunt! Now that is the first sensible word I heard all day. "What do I always say: 'shooting a boar and fucking a woman afterward, there's no better way to leave this world'. Go get your weapons and change your attire. I will meet you at the stables. If we hurry we still have the better part of the afternoon to hunt down some nice specimens."
  
  Later that night, Ned was preparing for bed. He had spent a lovely afternoon in the woods. Over the last few sennights he had often caught glimpses of his old friend. It had started during the voyage to King's Landing after the drunken incident. Still those had been mere glimpses and mostly of the man's intelligent mind. This afternoon however, it seemed as if his long lost boisterous but warm-hearted friend from before the Rebellion was back to stay. Robert had not once uttered a statement that had rubbed Ned the wrong way. It was as if they had both been catapulted back in time and had resumed their old roles during the hunt. They had only needed a look or a small gesture to understand what the other was planning. After they had successfully killed a boar and a deer, they had joked about who had taken the cleaner shot, just like they used to do when they grew up together during their formative years at the Vale. He sighed, thinking about what lay ahead and removed his doublet. Suddenly he noticed a small movement in a dark corner and reached for the sword he had discarded only moments before.
  
  "I am no threat, Lord Stark."
  
  Ned relaxed when he heard the sing song voice of Lord Varys. "Hells, you almost frightened me to death. Is it really necessary to sneak up on me that way? How did you get in here, by the way? The guards at the door assured me they saw nobody enter the corridor." He put the sword back on the chair.
  
  "Come now, an accomplished warrior like you doesn't get frightened by a mere shadow. I didn't want anyone to think we were conspiring. They could get the right idea." He winked. "I came via a secret passage. I'll show you the entrance then you can block it after I leave. That way you will no longer receive surprise visits, not even from me. If you need to speak to me in private for some reason, leave a candle behind the doorway and keep it unlocked. One of my little birds will fetch me as soon as possible."
  
  "Make sure you show me." Ned's tone betrayed his annoyance at the unannounced intrusion. "And then reassure me that it is the only secret passageway that gives entrance to my quarters. Now what are we conspiring about tonight?"
  
  "I wanted to keep you informed of the latest messages, the latest rumours, and my current worries, my Lord Hand."
  
  Lord Stark sighed. "It appears this will take some time then. Please sit down, Lord Varys. Can I offer you some refreshment?"
  
  Varys took the time to install himself at the small table and adjusted his robe around him with deliberate care. "I have no need of refreshments for the time being, my Lord Hand. I am fine. Let me congratulate you on a well-orchestrated trial. I enjoyed watching him enter the room with a confident stride and look at everyone as if he was the most important person in the Seven Kingdoms. He looked so shocked when he realised he had been played by the honourable Lord Stark. He never saw it coming from you."
  
  "I am not at all sure if that is a compliment, Lord Varys. It just means I am an even more accomplished conniver than that despicable person."
  
  "Come now, my Lord Hand. When you are doing the right thing, you are no conniver, you are just plain smart. He was guilty of everything you accused him of, was he not?"
  
  "That he was. I can't take all the credit for the outcome of the trial though. It was a joint effort. Everyone helped provide evidence. I did not mention several key players to keep them in the shadows, but you, Lord Reed, my brother, Jon and countless others helped us gather the evidence. Even the King helped."
  
  "Nevertheless you directed the trial in a theatrical fashion, my Lord Hand." Fawning over people was something Varys did often. That and being obsequious were his trademark tricks to deceive everyone into thinking he was just a pleasant, pudgy man, familiar with the pleasantries of court life. He mostly succeeded. People usually underestimated him and consequently didn't see through his schemes. This time however it was no trick, he really meant to compliment Lord Stark.
  
  "That was on the orders of the King, believe it or not. Again I can't take all the credit. You coached the jurors and they all performed their role impeccably. Not a single one of them spoke before their turn, no outburst, they all kept their faces blank. I am sure Littlefinger must have tried to read their allegiances from their faces, searching for the weakest link and came up empty."
  
  "They were all eager enough to witness his downfall and were only too happy to contribute to it. I never had more dedicated pupils. I was glad however that Lord Mace of House Tyrell had been delayed at High Garden due to the death of his castellan. I am not sure he would have kept up his role as impeccably as the rest. Did you watch Baelish's face when you refused him the right to a trial by combat?" Varys couldn't help but gloat.
  
  "That was the sole purpose of creating that law so swiftly and getting the High Septon on board without delay. I have you to thank for that suggestion as well. I would have forgotten that combat by trial was a divine right and we needed the ratification of the High Septon. I am sure Littlefinger would have found that loophole and used it somehow to get out of his predicament against all odds."
  
  "It was in the realm's best interest to rid the Seven Kingdoms of Petyr Baelish, my Lord. It motivated me to help you play the game. I must admit that you are doing an excellent job as Hand. You passed decent laws, have gotten the King to behave and restructured the small council so the realm is better represented. However did you get him to agree to give Prince Oberyn, or a representative of his choosing, a seat?"
  
  "I simply pointed out to Robert that I represent the Northern most Kingdom and my good family trusts me to represent the Riverlands as well. Lord Royce who has accepted to be the Master of Laws represents the Vale. With Lord Tyrell representing the Reach and King Robert representing the Stormlands and the Crownlands that leaves only the Rock, Dorne and the Ironborn out in the cold. I told him he could insult House Greyjoy since, they don't care one jot about a position on the small council, Lord Tyrion was not likely to complain to safeguard his niece and nephew, but that it was high time to repair the relationship with Dorne and it would not do to insult them further by not giving their Kingdom a voice in a reformed small council. The King gave me leave to try but bet me a horse that there was no way in hell that I could get Prince Oberyn to accept. Little does he know that Prince Oberyn has been a close ally to my house for years now." Ned looked smug. "I will enjoy choosing one of Robert's prized stallions when Prince Oberyn's scroll announcing his acceptance arrives."
  
  "I repeat, Lord Hand, in the short time you are here you have done a tremendous job. I am only worried that you are doing your job too well." Varys' sing song voice sounded accusing.
  
  "Do not speak in riddles, Varys. I am a man of the North. We say what we mean without wasting time."
  
  "I am sure you do, my Lord. But that takes all the fun out of it. And I know you understand that at least to some small degree because you played a while with our accused letting him think he could worm his way out of his predicament before you laid out the more serious charges before him." Varys kept his calm demeanour but his eyes twinkled.
  
  "Varys, you are trying my patience." Ned was tired, not only physically tired from the hunt, but his mind that had finally released the strain of the trial during the pleasurable hunt was not in the mood to once more having to cope with the intricate political games of the capital.
  
  "Well, I only meant to say that those reforms you instated shortly after arriving in King's Landing, especially the one outlawing the abuse of power by the armed forces in the capital, have already had an effect on the smallfolk living here."
  
  "That is a good thing, is it not?" Ned felt uneasy suddenly. He had an inkling where Varys was going with this.
  
  "It is, Lord Stark. However combined with the fact that the King has been seen walking around sober, behaving himself in public and attending more meetings in two sennights than in the twelve moons before you became Hand of the King, well, the people are warming up to him and that is not good for our cause. I have been working day and night to redirect the people's attention from the King to the new Hand who has a really good influence on his Grace and if that good man left, then surely the King would relapse and return to his normal habits of drunken whoring and spending the taxpayer's money."
  
  "But." Ned started but actually didn't know what rebuttal to offer.
  
  "You are hurting your nephew's cause considerably, Lord Stark. The smallfolk love a redemption story. The King is already looking much healthier. He has visibly lost weight and has been civil in public. I hate to imagine what will happen if he marries a beautiful wife and the Gods forbid she happens to be pregnant when everything goes down. If Jon deposes a beloved King, he will not be welcomed and the people will call him a usurper, an invader."
  
  "I don't know what to say to this right this instant, Varys. I really don't." Ned frowned and averted his eyes.
  
  "Do you know which ruler you want to serve?" Varys has dropped all pretence and studied Lord Stark's reaction closely.
  
  Lord Stark's head snapped back and he faced Varys, all indecision had left his eyes. "Yes of course. Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name. That has never been in doubt. Robert on the other hand once was my best friend and he is changing for the better. How can I in good conscience steer him back to being a lazy drunk King?"
  
  "You can at least hold off on passing laws the people appreciate but let our Targaryen Prince come up with them. I am almost certain the law you just passed outlawing misconduct of armed forces was at least partially if not entirely Aegon's idea."
  
  "Way to take away all pleasure of our victory over a long-standing nemesis today." Ned looked dejected and guilty.
  
  "Somebody must take up the difficult role of confronting his fellow conspirator when he is making a serious mistake. You will have to choose, Ned." It was the first time Varys had been so informal with the Lord of Winterfell. Ned steeled himself knowing this meant the lecture was probably getting worse and he was right. Varys' next words were even worse than he had expected.
  
  "You must face the consequences of your actions now or this won't work. Robert Baratheon and Aegon Targaryen cannot live together in the realm. Banishing Robert to the Wall or exiling him from Westeros will not be an option. Better you come to terms with this now. Even if it is a restoration of the rightful ruler, this is a rebellion and the ones on the side that loses are traitors to the Crown. If you let Robert live, there will be uprisings. He must die and his legacy must be that he was an unfit ruler who took the throne unlawfully by slaughtering every member of House Targaryen that he could get his hands on, even the small innocent children."
  
  "I need to think on this. There must be a better alternative that we are overlooking. There simply must be." Ned felt like he was living a nightmare. The day had started so brightly. He really thought he was handling this Hand thing and the politics in the capital with expertise. But one small conversation and suddenly he felt very naïve and incompetent. He startled when he heard Varys speak.
  
  "Please do, my Lord Hand. I need to do some damage control right away. My little birds need to sing songs about the Golden Company and their dragon in Essos once more. It was not a good thing that Littlefinger was allowed to connect your house to the dragonrider. One day, Robert will put two and two together. It is just a matter of time before someone tells him the boy who rides a dragon is the spitting image of Lyanna Stark. Not to mention the effort I have already put in to nullify the rumours about a resurrected Sword of the Morning who is fighting by his side."
  
  "I needed to let Baelish defend himself at the trial. I could not silence him mid-sentence. The trial was fixed enough as it was."
  
  "Do not think of it that way or you will never again have a peaceful night. Prosecutors need to strategize before a trial to assure the guilty party can't worm its way out of a conviction. Littlefinger was guilty of treason ten times over. It was a fair verdict. Now get some rest and leave the rumour mill to me. I have an idea on how to fix the situation with King Robert. The only thing I need you to do is stay neutral. Do not keep him from starting to drink again and making mistakes."
  
  "I'll do my best. I'll keep myself busy with trivial matters and avoid his company as much as possible. I hope no more will be needed from me in this regard."
  
  "Just keep your eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious. Jon still needs all the information and advice from us he can get. Davos Seaworth is doing all he can but the situation in the North is troublesome."
  
  "Varys, after all this I do not have any energy left to discuss the problems beyond the Wall tonight."
  
  "Not even to hear status reports from Ser Gerold at Dragonstone, never mind our other allies?"
  
  Ned just shook his head and didn't meet Varys' eyes.
  
  I'll leave you then, Lord Hand. Perhaps we can meet in the Godswood tomorrow afternoon? You will have to welcome lady Olenna and her son with his pompous entourage in the morning. My little birds told me the fair lady Margaery accompanies them this time. Best keep your King far from her. Anyway, I'll be in the Godswood the second half of tomorrow afternoon. Rest well." He bowed and disappeared behind the hidden door he had pointed out earlier.
  
  Ned fastened the latch, pulled a heavy chair in front of it and sat a pickle he had made of things. It had indeed been Jon's idea to limit the authority of the armed forces in the capital. His nephew had come up with it after he had heard several horror stories from Sandor that had been confirmed by his three Kingsguards. And here he had thought years of scheming had made him a proficient player in the game of thrones. It seemed not. Varys had put him in his place with just a few sentences. He was a mere novice who had stolen his nephew's thunder. He pushed the memories of his lovely afternoon with Robert to the back of his mind. He needed to get his priorities straight and the sooner he came to terms with the consequences, the better. Still, he couldn't silence his inner voice that urged him to keep looking for a solution that offered a better fate to Robert.
  
  Ned had been up since dawn and was dressed when he received an early summons from his King. Avoiding Robert would be harder than he had imagined. He was hardly through the doorway of the King's sitting room when Robert burst out.
  
  "We need to carry out the sentences, Ned. I do not see the need to tarry. The verdict was unanimous."
  
  "I agree, Robert. But I could have sworn I heard you say sentences, as in plural?" The King sat at a small desk where several scrolls were arranged in a neatly fashion.
  
  "The Freys and the Ironborn are guilty of conspiring against the Crown. The Boltons, well I am sure these sadists are guilty as hell as well but I am afraid we do not have a case against them. "
  
  "The jurors didn't condemn Walder Frey nor the Ironborn, Robert. What have you decided to do with Lord Baelish?"
  
  "There is only one outcome, Ned. The man is a traitor to the Crown and guilty of murdering the Hand of the King. He will be beheaded as soon as everything is put into place to make a big show of it in the yard before the Sept of Bailor."
  
  "I'll make the necessary arrangements." Ned was about to leave the room again when the King called him back.
  
  "I have already spoken to the City Watch, Ned. They know what to do. This isn't the first time a man has been executed in the capital. You just need to show up." He seemed to consider something. "Maybe you will want to execute him yourself. Your way is the Old Way as I recall. Just let me know whether we will need Ilyn Payne's services or not."
  
  "Best let Payne do it. Most of his crimes were not against my house but against the realm. I did not pass the sentence. The Crown's Court did."
  
  "All right, suit yourself. Just show up on time then. You will need to read the official verdict and sentence out loud to the crowd. Now about not having the legal means to condemn the Freys, I am not talking about beheading them or even declaring them traitors to the Crown. I am thinking of taking away their privileges as Lords of the crossing. I will no longer allow them to ask a toll for every passage. Let's draft a royal decree that grants everyone free passage. The only services I will allow them to charge travellers for are meals or overnight stays and that only if they are requested. Any violation must be reported to the Crown immediately. If enough proof is provided, the Crown will take measures and install another house as Lords of the crossing. If necessary a royal army will lay siege to the Twins.
  
  "That sounds a bit drastic, Robert. Perhaps we should sit on this for a while. What if they revolt and make a pact with the Ironborn? Do you really want another Greyjoy rebellion on your hands?"
  
  "You take away all my fun, Ned. But I'll concede. We'll table this for a few days. Lysa Arryn though, any thoughts on what I should do with her?"
  
  "She is a victim of a master conniver and she has a young son who loves her very much. What if we give her house arrest and foster the boy out to the eldest son of Yohn Royce at the Vale. We will let her see the boy regularly but always with a member of House Royce present. It is easy to keep her contained at the Eyrie. If ever you need a secure prison, that fortress in the Vale would do very well."
  
  "You are right, I should be somewhat lenient for Arryn's widow. I fell for Littlefinger's lies as well. Let her go home and be a prisoner in her own home. But at the first sign of trouble, she still faces the death sentence. She has committed murder after all."
  
  "I'll be sure to tell her that, your Grace. I'll make sure she won't be given free reign of the Eyrie. She will be confined to her quarters. They give access to a large balcony with some greenery." Ned bowed formally and tried a second time to leave the King's presence. "I have a meeting to attend to, something about the sewer system. I am sure you will not want to be present."
  
  A simple hand gesture gave Ned permission to retreat. He left quickly and mentally reviewed the rest of his day. First a few dull meetings, then formally receiving the newly arrived delegation of the Reach and keep them from forcing a betrothal on the King before his annulment is granted. No time to start his intended search for the Baratheon bastards today. Hopefully he would have a productive meeting with Varys in the Godswood. He needed all the guidance Varys had to offer. Yesterday he had still been full of the trial and had not asked for the status of things on Dragonstone. Now the not knowing plagued him. He estimated that Ser Gerold had already landed on Dragonstone. If he had calculated it right, even the Targaryen Princess could be living there by now. Somehow no rumours of her had reached the capital yet. They would someday though, any day even. He needed to be vigilant. Friend or not, Robert would have his head if he was not careful.
  
  Interlude 19: Revelations at Castle Black
  
  "Jon! What are you doing here?" Gendry dropped what he was doing. He cleaned his hands with a small cloth and embraced his friend. Jon returned his hug. He was glad to see his friend looked well fed and well rested.
  
  "I came to check whether you were still alive or not. We have an ongoing bet as to the cause of your demise. Either you are withering away from loneliness or you are killing yourself by working non-stop to create the most beautiful weapons we have ever seen." Jon added that last bit when he spotted a stash of weapons on a table in the corner of the workplace.
  
  "Wow Gendry. These look amazing! Jon picked up an axe head. Are these as strong as they are exquisite?"
  
  "O yee of little faith." Gendry grinned. "Before I forget, I am very glad to see you." He picked up an axe head while he spoke and rammed it into a wooden beam with all his might. "There, does that satisfy you, my Prince?" Gendry mocked, illustrating how much strength it took to remove the axe head. It was embedded rather deep into the wood.
  
  Jon looked with increasing wonder at the various ways Gendry tried to get the axe out of the wooden beam. "I think congratulations are in order. It looks even stronger than a steel one. Perhaps if you put a handle through the axe eye, you would have more leverage to pull it out?" Jon suggested when Gendry still hadn't succeeded to free the axe head.
  
  "It is not though. Stronger than steel I mean." Gendry was now busy hammering a handle through the eye of the axe. "But it comes close. Noye and I perfected the procedure while you were gone. It made me think of something else but perhaps it is too good an idea to discuss out here. It is only a theory, mind you but I can't shake the idea."
  
  "You know, you are starting to sound a bit like Howland Reed. But I'll let you keep your trade secrets for now. How are things here, Gendry? Are they treating you well? Where is Donal Noye, by the way?"
  
  "Things are great, Jon. Noye is an excellent craftsman, perhaps not as skilled as Tobho Mott with the finer stuff. You know, like the badges I made for you or the hilt on Arya's sword. But the man knows his steel. He showed me new ways to get the balance of a sword or a hammer just right. I am glad I stayed behind, Jon. Noye asked me if wanted to repair Cotter Pyke's sword. The hilt was crooked and the carvings worn away. You know by now how I take pride in creating hilts that are not only functional and feel good in your hand but at the same time are pleasing to the eye. Cotter Pyke was well pleased with the end result. He approached me personally to thank me. He tried to persuade me to become a brother of the Night's Watch." Gendry stumbled against Jon as he was catapulted backwards the moment he succeeded in pulling the axe from the beam.
  
  Jon held on to Gendry and turned him around to face him. Gendry watched the raised eyebrow and the mock put out expression on Jon's face. He grinned out loud. "Not a chance in Seven Hells! As if I want to miss out on all the fun. And I don't speak merely of the ' take no wife ' part. I want to be present when you kick King Robert's ass and take his throne out from under him."
  
  Jon had released his grip on his friend the moment Gendry started grinning. "I am glad. Davos will be relieved to hear you are treated well and look content here for the time being. Just to be sure, you are still get along with Noye then? He is not envious of the interest Pyke takes in you?" Jon checked.
  
  "I do, very well actually. Mind you we do not talk a lot. Not like the long conversations you are used to having with people. We just grunt and drop a few words to give instructions while we work on the material. Though there was that one awkward moment during our lunch break a few days ago. I think I hurt his feelings a bit."
  
  "What happened, Gendry? Did he pester you about being a bastard?" Jon wiped the metal dust of a chair and sat down.
  
  "No, quite the opposite really. He knew I have never been to Storm's End and also that I have never met either of the Baratheon brothers. He wanted to tell me about them. I listened well enough to the description of the mighty fortress that Storm's End apparently is. How it endured many sieges but has never fallen to any attacker. One of your ancestor's helped build it. Did you know that, Jon?" Gendry put the axe head back with the others and sat down facing Jon.
  
  "Of course, Bran the Builder of House Stark, the same man that built the Wall. That was a part of my daily history lessons. I think I learned about every keep in Westeros important enough to house a noble Lord. Storm's End being the seat of a Lord Paramount featured prominently in these lessons. But that doesn't tell me what went wrong during that lunch break."
  
  "Nothing went wrong exactly. I just reacted badly when he started to talk about my father and his brothers when they were young. He apparently liked the younger version of Robert Baratheon and I just wasn't ready to hear the man who ignored my existence and didn't keep me safe from his wife's family, be praised to the Seven Heavens. I shut him up rather abruptly. We have avoided the subject ever since." Gendry looked at the dirt under his fingernails.
  
  "But you still manage to work together?" Jon asked wanting to be sure Gendry would be all right if he stayed at Castle Black a bit longer.
  
  "Yes, like I said, we just avoid the subject now. I regret my outburst though. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to know a bit more about the man who sired me. Perhaps I even inherited some characteristics from him." Gendry's eyes met Jon's, a tentative look in them.
  
  "Well we all know how you resemble him and that you both prefer a warhammer. Just apologize to Noye and tell him you were caught off guard and overreacted. I am sure he'll understand. He probably keeps silent not to hurt your feelings and will tell you about him again if you just ask. Speaking about Noye, is he not around? Is there nobody lurking close by that can overhear us?"
  
  "Noye is with the new recruits in the training yard to assess what they will need for armour and weapons. He said he would not be back till lunch. I have the place to myself." Gendry studied his friend closely. "What's up, Jon? I can see you have something on your mind. We are alone here. Out with it."
  
  "Did you happen to encounter Jaime Lannister or Renly Baratheon yet?" Jon asked him, avoiding eye contact.
  
  "I haven't seen them personally. I have heard a lot of gossip though. They apparently arrived five days ago. Jaime Lannister has been in solitary confinement in the cells beneath Castle Black ever since. Prince Renly on the other hand has been given chambers in the same tower the Maester normally resides in. I hear he always takes his meals in solitude and has only been seen on the rampart a few times to catch some fresh air but our noble Prince hasn't mingled with the commoners yet. Why do you want to know?"
  
  "I am worried about their reaction when they hear of a dragonrider's presence north of the Wall." Now it was Jon who was fiddling with his hands.
  
  "Really?" Gendry looked sceptic at his friend's atypical behaviour. "Lannister won't have the opportunity to tell anyone soon and Prince Renly can be heard muttering under his breath about how he detests his brother. Is that the only reason you brought them up, Jon? Truthfully?"
  
  "I want to confront Jaime Lannister, all right. I just saw Cotter Pyke when I picked up some messages and asked permission for a quick visit to his cell." Jon's defiant attitude didn't seem to bother Gendry.
  
  "I won't stop you if that is why you were reluctant to reveal this to me." His friend simply stated. "Hells, I'll even come along to taunt him. How about ' Hi Jaime dear, I am the King's bastard and have come here to harass you for cuckolding my dearest father. Better sleep with one eye open from now on' ." Gendry grinned but Jon stayed serious.
  
  "Be my guest. The fact that Bran lives, makes him no less a child murderer. I thank the Gods every day for putting the idea of that climbing harness in my head. I never told you that it came to me in a dream? Ever since I heard of Bran's fall, I am certain the Gods are on our side."
  
  "On the side of innocent children, more like it." Gendry nudged Jon's shoulder. "What about it? Shall we go and harass a Kingslayer, child murderer and sisterfucker?"
  
  Jon immediately started for the door. "You coming?"
  
  "And here I was fooled for an instant into thinking that you loved me so much that you had come all the way to see lonesome me." It was meant as a joke but Jon could hear a faint disappointment in his friend's tone.
  
  "I would have checked up on you, even if it was too soon for these two to have arrived. I also did it for Davos. For some unimaginable reason that man cares about you. I want to stay in his good graces." Jon joked but put his arm around Gendry's shoulder to emphasize his sincerity. "Still doubting you are one of my best friends? It is me who should feel insulted."
  
  "Sometimes it is hard to believe, Jon. Besides, you have so much going on in your life."
  
  "Stop right there Gendry." He took back his arm only to face Gendry, put his two hands on his friend's shoulders and forced him to look straight into his eyes.
  
  "Whether we see each other every day or only two times a year, we will always have this unbreakable bond. At least that is how I feel about it. And not because you are a skilled blacksmith or can use that warhammer of yours frightfully well. Not even because you are speaking like a literate man these days, ' o yee of little faith', where did that come from? No, it is because you are a kind person who happens to have struck a chord with me. Haven't you ever met someone and known right away that you could get along with him or her and that you could trust that person implicitly?"
  
  Jon paused when he heard footsteps. Going over to the window he saw a brother of the Night's Watch cross the far corner of the court. When the man was out of sight and his footsteps could no longer be heard, he turned away from the window and returned to his original spot facing his friend.
  
  "Have you ever considered the fact that we are actually family as well as friends? Your father's grandmother was Princess Rhaelle of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon V, aunt to King Aerys II. That makes us third cousins, Gendry. You have a rightful claim to being a member of my very small Targaryen family." Jon's mouth curled upwards but his eyes stayed serious, his unwavering stare not permitting Gendry to look away.
  
  "Come on Jon, or should I call you cousin now? You are getting all mushy on me now. Quit already, or you are going to make me feel stupid all over again." He said in a rather brusque manner to avoid showing too much of the warm brotherly feelings Jon's words engendered in him.
  
  "You get it, though?" Jon dropped his hands but both youths stayed rooted to their spot, both struggling to suppress their slight embarrassment. Men didn't talk about feelings like women, they acted upon them.
  
  Gendry swallowed. "I get it. And to answer your question, yes I have met such people before that I felt an immediate bond with. Two persons fit that bill, Davos Seaworth and", he paused only to continue using a mocking tone and feigning a doubtful expression, "I think there also might have been some strange Prince who hides his real identity and who happens to be an obscure member of my bizarre family."
  
  Jon however stayed serious. "Can I count on you to have my back in there? I'll try to contain myself but it will take all of my self-control not to do something stupid when I look into the eyes of the man who attempted to murder my little cousin."
  
  Gendry nodded, looking serious once more. "I will always have your back, Jon. Let's get on with it."
  
  It was a fortunate coincidence that the two brothers of the Night's Watch guarding Jaime Lannister were part of the contingent of Targaryen supporters that had helped Jon leave Castle Black safely the day after Maester Aemon's funeral. They immediately led Jon and Gendry to Jaime Lannister's plain but clean cell and chained the man to his bunk bed to safeguard the Targaryen Prince before letting both young men enter.
  
  "Can you give us some privacy, please?" Jon asked the guards who just nodded and told them they would be in the room at the beginning of the corridor where the guards usually took their meals.
  
  The rusty sounds of the cell doors closing behind his visitors enticed Jaime Lannister to look up.
  
  Two male figures kept the largest distance possible from him by staying with their back against the bars that kept him imprisoned. Fortunate for him it was also the spot that caught the bit of daylight that filtered in from two small windows that were too high up for him to be able to see what was happening outside. He startled when he studied the faces of this unexpected company.
  
  "I do not believe I have had the pleasure? Nevertheless, I am almost certain that a Baratheon and a Stark are honouring me with their company." Despite his shabby appearance Jaime Lannister still managed to look arrogant sitting upon the modest bed.
  
  "I do not believe it is a pleasure." Jon's harsh tone immediately put the prisoner on the defensive.
  
  "Perhaps I should have called you two a Waters and a Snow instead? Am I talking to two bastards by any chance?" Jaime went for his most snobbish articulation.
  
  "The only bastard in here is you, child murdering Kingslayer." Jon retorted quickly to prevent Gendry from reacting to the insult.
  
  "I didn't end up murdering him in the end." Jaime sighed and hunched his shoulders all sign of arrogance gone. "I admit, that was not my finest hour. I am deeply sorry for succumbing to the impulse of the moment, thinking that I had found the only means of protecting the lives of the ones dearest to me. It was a rash act in a moment of panic. Is the Stark boy all right?"
  
  "He is. That doesn't help your case though. It was sheer luck he survived." Jon did not allow him to be swayed by Jaime Lannister's tardy apology.
  
  "Will you at least tell me who you are? You look like a Stark, even more than Eddard Stark's heir one might say. Oh, are you perhaps this alleged son of Brandon Stark that wants to steel Winterfell from the noble Eddard Stark? Have you come to avenge your cousin? Please, don't let me stop you. It will prevent me from slowly freezing to dead after I have lost my mind in this small cell. I am not made for a solitary life in miserable circumstances. And here I thought I would stand out at the Wall and in no time would command this ragtag band of misfits." Jaime chose his words and tone to be as provocative as possible. It was the only real human contact and distraction he had received in days and perhaps one of these youth's would do him the favour of ending his misery.
  
  "Jon!" Gendry held him back when Jon advanced on the Kingslayer.
  
  "Yes, even your voice sounds like Robert Baratheon." The Kingslayer now turned his attention to the other young man trying to get under his skin. "Are you perhaps one of the many male bastards that will miss out on a royal inheritance, you poor thing? You are his spitting image, you know? Everyone who knew Robert Baratheon when he was young will know who sired you, boy."
  
  "If I am a bastard, at least I am not an incestuous one. Be careful, Kingslayer. Tommen and Myrcella are not safe yet. I am closer to being legitimized than they will ever be." Gendry bluffed and watched with glee how the man blanched.
  
  Jaime gave both young men another once over. "Why have you two green boys taken all this trouble to travel to the end of the world to visit me? You clearly are not sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Will you at least tell me that?" Even though he was rattled by the threat to his children he tried to brave it out.
  
  Jon sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall next to the bars sending the message that he was not leaving anytime soon. "I want to hear exactly what happened in the throne room the day you stabbed King Aerys II." Jon stared deep into Jaime Lannister's eyes, conveying his intent. He would not leave the man in peace before he obtained this information.
  
  Both men looked at him with wide eyes. Gendry looked even more shocked than Jaime Lannister. Jon silenced his friend with a small gesture.
  
  "Why does that matter to you?" Jaime Lannister reacted finally. When no answer was forthcoming he sighed deeply and looked down at the ground. "Nobody ever asked me with enough insistence to get past my first refusal to talk about my motivations. They all just assumed the worst." He looked up again and tried once more to gauge his interrogator's motivation. "This all happened such a long time ago. Why do you want to know so badly? I bet you weren't even born yet."
  
  Jon was surprised himself that the Kingslayer had it right. He hadn't realised that he wanted to know this so very badly before he had asked the question out loud. Although he knew almost everything that had happened at the end of the Rebellion, nobody had been able to tell him what had driven a seventeen year old Kingsguard sworn to defend his King with his life, to break his sacred vow and cowardly stab the old man in the back.
  
  "It matters to me." His simple statement and his entire demeanour betrayed to the two men present that he spoke the absolute truth.
  
  A nagging suspicion entered Jaime's mind. He dismissed it offhand though. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed when he looked at the young man who sat there clearly with no intent of dropping the subject. Well, what did it matter anyway? He was doomed to die here in this cold land, far away from all he held dear. This was probably one of his last meaningful conversations. For the rest of his life, his future companions - or should he say 'brothers' - would be illiterate people at best, common thieves and murderers at worst.
  
  For the first time in eighteen years he described the horrors of that fateful day. He started haltingly but it all came pouring out of him. Even in the midst of his turmoil, he saw the Stark lookalike cringe when he told him how King Aerys' final orders were for Ser Jaime to kill his own father and for his pyromancers to burn down the keep and the entire city including its population with wildfire. He deliberately mimicked the Mad King's shriek ' burn them all' several times to make an even greater impact on his strange audience. The young man's Stark eyes narrowed when Jaime sneered that the honourable Eddard Stark had judged him guilty on the spot without giving the young knight he was at that time a chance to explain.
  
  Absolute silence reigned when Jaime stopped his tale. Overwhelmed by the memories he just relived, Jaime's eyes were once more trained on the ground to avoid looking at both young men.
  
  Jon had never suspected he could feel empathy for any of Jaime Lannister's deeds. He struggled with the idea that that one deed could possibly have changed the entire course of the promising young knight's life. He wondered whether the incestuous affair with his twin had started before or after the Rebellion. Then the thought of a crying and shaking Bran flittered through his mind.
  
  "He was my kin but I absolve you of his murder." Jon finally said. "However, I do not absolve you of standing by and letting them murder Princess Elia and her children. You were sworn to protect her as well. You did nothing when they were put to death in such a gruesome way. Nor do I absolve you of the murderous act that almost killed my cousin Bran Stark. I hope you rot in this place for that last deed and that death will come slowly and painfully."
  
  The Lannister's mouth fell open. "Kin to the Mad King, cousin to Bran Stark? Are you the dragonrider that has been spotted over the Narrow Sea and in Westeros? Are you really the alleged son of Brandon Stark? I can't for the life of me come up with a plausible candidate with Valyrian blood to have birthed you? I didn't know the Mad King sired female bastards? Will you at least tell me who your mother was?" He tried once more to make sense of his strange visitors.
  
  "Come on, Jon." Gendry who had stayed upright the entire time held out his hand to help Jon up. "Don't you think it is time we leave before you regret anything you might say or do to that despicable man?"
  
  "A Baratheon defending a dragonrider, wait until King Robert hears about that." The surprise of Jon sharing a kinship with the Mad King had temporarily put aside all the old feelings that had welled up during his agonising tale of his kingslaying act.
  
  Meanwhile Jon had accepted Gendry's help to get up and towered over Jaime Lannister. It lent extra credit to his next threat. "It certainly won't be you who will tell him that. Nobody would believe you anyway. I heard a little bird tell me that King Robert will make sure you suffer an excruciatingly painful death if ever he hears your name mentioned again."
  
  "Hey," Gendry interjected. "I thought it was my line to tell this vermin that he should sleep with one eye open from now on."
  
  Jon ignored Gendry's statement and went on to threaten Jaime's children. "Just know that I control Eddard Stark and through him I control the fate of Tommen and Myrcella. I can arrange for them to be treated so badly that they will wish that they were dead every moment of every single day in their incestuous lives. I can even oblige them in that and order someone to push them off the top of Casterly Rock."
  
  He paused and changed the tone of his voice significantly adopting a beguiling tone. "But if you are a good boy and help fight the enemy beyond the Wall, perhaps I will wake up some day in the future and happen to be in a very benign mood for once. So benign that I might even be willing to use my substantial influence to get Tommen and Myrcella legitimized as Lannisters."
  
  He stepped closer to the chained man. Towering over him he made sure that the tone of his voice matched his intimidating stance. "Better stay quiet about both of us and keep me as a friend, sisterfucker. Now ponder that for a bit but don't overwork your tiny brain. Until we meet again."
  
  Jon turned around and left the cell not bothering to look back and see the multitude of feelings cross Jaime's face. He heard Gendry's steps behind him and that was all he needed to know.
  
  "Jon, was that wise? I get that you wanted to torture him a bit for pushing Bran but you revealed an awful lot in there. What if he speaks to Prince Renly or some other Baratheon supporter? And what about those threats against Tommen and Myrcella?" Gendry had barely contained himself long enough until they were outside in a secluded spot where nobody could overhear him to vent his frustration.
  
  "It wasn't my best idea." Jon admitted. He looked drained and very guilty. "I hardly know how I will face Davos and the rest now. So please give me some respite and spare me your sermons for a bit." Jon now looked beseechingly at Gendry.
  
  When his friend didn't give an inch and kept staring him down Jon exclaimed. "I was bluffing, Gendry. I would never hurt innocent children. Don't you know that about me by now? At one point, I even felt sorry for Lannister. Just imagine, he was hardly our age when he saved an entire city from being burned alive and instead of being heralded as a hero he has had to live with being called the Kingslayer because of it. "
  
  Gendry relaxed his stance. "I just wanted to hear you say it, Jon. You looked so guilty just now that I thought you really believed yourself to be a monster. You did nothing more than threaten a child murderer who had it coming. I only wished you hadn't revealed your shared blood with the Targaryen King. That is all. I enjoyed seeing him rattled though. Perhaps you haven't done that much damage. I am sure you stating firmly that you are 'controlling Eddard Stark' will have convinced him he was right in thinking you are the rightful heir to Winterfell. He will never make the connection to your real father now."
  
  "Nor to my real mother. Come with me to visit your half-Uncle Prince Renly now that I am on a roll?" Jon baited his friend.
  
  "Jon!"
  
  "Just kidding. Come let us find us a pint of ale each. I want to wind down a bit and spend some time with my friend before I fly off again. Any chance you will let me take some of those newly crafted dragonglass weapons along?"
  
  "By all means. They are meant to be put to use. What are the plans once Noye and I have used up all the material you brought, Jon? Should I come find you at the Free Folk settlement?"
  
  "I will send someone to fetch you if I am unable to come myself. Do you know how long before you are ready here?"
  
  "The day after next. I look forward to more of the material arriving. If there really is a ship's hold load full of dragonglass at my disposal, I can take the risk of ruining some of it to try out my new theory."
  
  "About that? Will you tell me now instead of just making me curious?"
  
  Gendry looked around first and then whispered. "Dragonfire, Jon. Dragonfire burns hotter than any fire I have ever seen. The hotter I stoke the fire in the forge, the better the quality of the weapons. Imagine what I could do with dragonfire at my disposal. I could perhaps come close to creating something as strong as Valyrian Steel."
  
  Jon shared his excitement. "What a smart thing to come up with!"
  
  "Sam might take some credit as well. I'd like to say we came up with it together."
  
  "I'll keep my fingers crossed, Gendry. I think Viserion is the one most likely to accommodate you. I will have to ask him though. Perhaps we can try that at East Watch? The dragonglass will arrive there soon enough."
  
  "The men here told me there is a forge over there but nobody really with the skills to achieve much."
  
  "We'll ask Cotter to give you exclusive use of the forge at East Watch for a while. I think it is best you keep these experiments a secret." Jon looked up and noticed that the sun had almost reached its peak. "It seems we have a plan. Come on, all that talking has left me thirsty."
  
  Gendry smiled and followed his friend. He was still a bit worried about the possible repercussions of their talk with Jaime Lannister but he was glad he had been able to distract Jon for now by making him excited about something else.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter is called 'Home at last'. Jon needs to take care of a few things first but then can go and reunite with Dany. Finally!
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Home at last
  Chapter 20: Home at last
  
  Summary:
  
  The long awaited reunion of Dany and Jon is about to happen.
  
  Notes:
  
  This chapter picks up immediately after the events of chapter 18. The trial in King's Landing hasn't happened yet at the start of this chapter.
  
  His first morning back at the Free Folk settlement, Jon woke later than usual. He was alone in the tent. Even Ghost had abandoned him. He closed his eyes and sensed the direwolf roaming the nearby woods. He gently severed the connection and concentrated on his dragons. Rhaegal and Viserion were following a herd of wild horses. He nudged Rhaegal's mind and was welcomed with alacrity. Together they searched for landmarks so he could inform Tormund where they could find this herd. Horses were not only valuable tools for the Free Folk, they were also a source of meat when food was in short supply. He said goodbye to Rhaegal and Viserion and quickly dressed himself.
  
  Almost ready for the outside world, he focussed his hearing. Apparently this area of the camp was deserted. He tried to remember what had happened last night. He had been exhausted when he arrived. He distinctly remembered handing over the results of his sennight of scouting the Lands of Always Winter to Davos but was almost sure he in turn had received no news about the situation at Craster's Keep, King's Landing, Dragonstone or Winterfell. This realisation made him jump into action. In no time he finished his morning ablutions, answered the call of nature and was ready to go in search of Davos. In his haste, he bumped into Orell when he made the short turn to circumvent his tent.
  
  "Where are you off to in all haste?" his fellow warg asked him after regaining his balance.
  
  "Sorry for that. I am looking for my companions. I am eager to receive news from my friends south of the Wall. Did you happen to fly over Craster's Keep and see something of significance?" Jon asked eager to hear about that as well.
  
  "The Night's Watch made camp there a few days ago. Yesterday I witnessed them readying themselves to move out. I also saw a scouting party of four crows keeping track of the dead that were approximately two days away from reaching Craster's Keep. Depending on the speed they are able to travel, Jeor Mormont and his men could reach the White Walker and his wights this evening. I overheard your people and Mance Rayder arguing about whether they should interfere or not." The tone of Orell's voice made it clear he wanted to ambush the enemy, probably to protect the baby and the women.
  
  Jon frowned. "With all their arguing and delaying, they are out of options. If both parties clash today, nobody can get there besides you inside your eagle or I on my dragons." "Fortunately Jeor Mormont was smart enough to take enough men along. Even without dragonglass, if they remember to use fire they should be all right. Any chance you know where I can find my people?"
  
  "Look for them in the big tent near the south pasture. That is where they gather when the sleeping tent is occupied. But Dragonrider, the small army of wights heading towards the keep has grown considerably since you last saw it. I saw lots of undead animals and even several large bears had joined their ranks. The White Walker certainly did his best to grow his army along the way. It is at least double the size of your last count."
  
  "Then Mormont is in trouble. Thanks for the heads up, Orell. You're a big help to me and the Free Folk. I'll let you know if I decide to fly towards Craster's Keep in case you might like to join me." He tapped the man's shoulder as a goodbye gesture and went in search of his entourage."
  
  In the south pasture he noticed Rykker and Stokeworth and waved at them. The two men were helping the small folk care for their horses and sheep. He found Davos and Ser Arthur in the tent just as Orell had told him. Ser Arthur and Davos took their eyes off the game of dice they had apparently been engaged in and got up to greet him. When Jon enquired about the news that had arrived during his absence, Davos invited him to sit down with them and was quick to get him up to speed.
  
  "Varys has sent a message describing Littlefinger's delight in presiding over the small council and how he keeps the traitor busy with insignificant issues like tavern brawls, increased food prices, sewer problems and other minor matters most of which Varys has created himself just for this purpose. According to the Master of Whispers, King Robert and his Hand still need a few days to reach King's Landing. I have received a message from them detailing an encounter with Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed before they reached White Harbour. The Prince apparently handed them additional evidence that he collected in the Riverlands to use against Littlefinger.
  
  More importantly, Ser Gerold has sent word that they have arrived safely at Dragonstone and have met with minimal resistance. Only a few people are currently kept imprisoned to prevent them from alerting the mainland. They are mostly servants and former guards of House Baratheon that opted to stay on the island because they married into families living on Dragonstone. Most of the smallfolk are happy with the changed circumstances and are looking forward to the arrival of their Prince and Princess. A small percentage doesn't care either way as long as they are able to live in peace. Ser Gerold stresses nothing prevents you from claiming your seat in person."
  
  "So they succeeded! Excellent! Let's hope they can keep their presence at the island secret for a while longer. This really is good news, Davos! Please send a message to Ser Gerold that the men he imprisoned are to be given normal rooms, no dark cells. I agree they have to restrict their movements but I want them to be given decent food, adequate sleeping arrangements and fair treatment. As soon as I openly claim the Seven Kingdoms, they will get a chance to swear allegiance and become my subjects. I do not want to alienate them further by treating them like murderers or rapists."
  
  When he saw Davos' consenting nod he asked eagerly "What about Ser Barristan's mission?"
  
  Ser Arthur and Davos exchanged smiles. Both men were glad to see their often too serious Prince so excited. Davos was quick to answer his question aware of how keen Jon was to hear about that part of the plan. "Ser Barristan is scheduled to arrive in Pentos...." Davos calculated the days between the sending of the scroll and the timeline stipulated in the message. "If I have this right, Ser Barristan will arrive in Pentos on the morrow. They estimate it will take him the better part of three days to get everything organised. He expects the Princess will arrive at Dragonstone approximately ten or eleven days from now depending on the wind."
  
  "Let us hope for smooth weather." Jon commented trying to keep his face blank so he would not be teased too much later. "Has other news reached you here?"
  
  A scroll from Robb informs us about the arrival of Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed at Winterfell. Both have departed again by now. Prince Oberyn and his daughter are on their way to the Wall. Lord Reed has taken Bran with him and is headed back to Greywater Watch. The Tyrells are pressing Willas and Loras to return South but Robb writes that Loras wants to stay in the North a bit longer. Edric also opts to stay at Winterfell for now but promises to meet us at Castle Black well before we need to leave for Dragonstone. Another personal message from Edric was included for you. I did not open that. As far as I know you haven't responded to his first one?"
  
  Jon ignored Davos' raised eyebrow and just accepted the tiny scroll. "What else?"
  
  Davos hesitated but decided to not to pry. It was probably a personal issue between the two young men. If not, he was confident Jon would confide in him when the time was right. "Yara Greyjoy reports her uncle, Euron Greyjoy is attacking the shores of the Stepstones but encounters resistance from pirates. Oh and I received a scroll..." He searched his pockets and held out a rather thick scroll. "Here I didn't open this one. I think you were expecting this?"
  
  Jon's eyes lit up when he looked at it. "From Daenerys? Finally, I was starting to worry."
  
  "As we all noticed." Davos chuckled.
  
  "Nothing else?" When Davos shook his head, told him that these were the more important matters and gently urged Jon to find a quiet spot so he could read his personal messages in private, Jon scowled and asked in a rather brusque tone, "What's happening at Craster's Keep? Do you know the position of the large scouting party led by Jeor Mormont and what news about the White Walker and his contingent of wights that are headed that way?"
  
  He noticed Ser Arthur who had let Davos lead the conversation for now turn his head and exchange a significant look with Davos which Jon translated as 'I told you so Davos. Just spill already.'
  
  Still Davos hesitated. Jon turned to Ser Arthur. "Would you perhaps care to enlighten me? And where are Sandor and Tormund for that matter?"
  
  Another look passed between Ser Arthur and Davos. It was Ser Arthur who provided Jon with the requested information. "Jeor Mormont and his large group will leave or have already left their encampment at Craster's Keep and are on their way to intercept the small army of the dead. According to your warg friend..."
  
  "Orell." Jon helped him recall the name.
  
  "Orell," Ser Arthur nodded gratefully, "the contingent led by the White Walker you described has doubled in size. The Lord Commander's group still outnumbers them but they will not realise what they are up against. Tormund and Sandor along with a few volunteers have left a few days ago as soon as your warg friend first brought the news of the increased enemy numbers. They plan to keep out of sight and will only interfere if Jeor Mormont makes a colossal mistake such as not using fire to fight them. I do not know if they will reach them in time though. They have taken most of the dragonglass with them. According to Orell, Mormont's group and the dead will encounter each other tonight after dark or the next day at the latest." Ser Arthur turned his head to the side and seemed once more to communicate with Davos.
  
  Davos took over. "Orell warned Tormund and Sandor that the White Walker had recruited some fierce animals. Big bears and shadow cats I think he mentioned amongst other creatures I have forgotten the name of."
  
  "And why did you keep that information from me? Am I not your Prince and future King? You were not with me at the time but surely you realise that I did pass my seventeenth nameday some time ago. What do you expect me to do? Sit around a cosy bonfire tonight? Tell some funny stories and charm a few spearwives while at that exact same time numerous men of the Night's Watch face an unknown, exceptionally lethal enemy?" Jon tried to keep his voice down but neither of the men missed the passionate somewhat exasperated tone of his voice.
  
  "We want you to stay safe. I feared you would fly off before we had a chance to discuss strategies." Davos argued. "I would have told you, I just..." Davos' hesitation gave Jon the opportunity to interrupt.
  
  "I distinctly recall myself promising Ser Gerold I would not do that if it the situation allowed for it. In this case, there still is most of the day to talk this through. I would only have to leave a bit before supper. I put my trust in you to keep me informed and let me be a part of the decision making, Davos." Davos had the decency to look a bit guilty. Jon wanted to know why his normally so reliant adviser had such a differing opinion on this matter. Normally they understood each other almost without words. "Are you really of the opinion that it is the wrong move to fly out before dusk and lend my support if I notice that they are in trouble?"
  
  "Jeor Mormont put your life in jeopardy," Davos started but this time Ser Arthur interrupted.
  
  "No it is not stupid. It is a good strategy. Ser Davos knows this as well. Only, you will need to be smart about this and keep in mind that after you have saved their dumb, stubborn arses, it will remain dangerous to mingle with the brothers of the Night's Watch. It only takes one vindictive crow to pierce your heart with a sword, a dagger or an arrow."
  
  "Thank you Ser Arthur." Jon smiled gratefully at the knight noticing his language had got coarser over time. "It truly is the smart, the humane thing to do." He turned to his Hand. "Davos, have you thought about the worst case scenario? Suppose these few hundred brothers of the Night's Watch are caught unaware and are swarmed by the enemy. What if they panic, lose the battle and are recruited by the White Walker who then marches to Craster's Keep and takes the baby for some nefarious reason we haven't figured out yet. If somehow they leave Craster and his daughter-wives unharmed, they will still have grown their numbers significantly. Even if you do not care about the lives of hundreds of men of the Night's Watch, it is imperative that we keep the enemy from recruiting more soldiers. It will be difficult enough to beat them with their current strength." Jon watched Davos' frown grow deeper while Ser Arthur nodded his assent. The knight clearly had come to this conclusion as well.
  
  "That stubborn man!" Davos burst out. "He delays all of our carefully prepared plans. He doesn't respect you enough to keep his men in line when they threaten your life. And you are willing to jump headlong into danger at the first mention of him being in a self-inflicted predicament. I do not like it. I do not like it at all. Even if you have a very good argument to help him and I know you have to go, I still do not have to like it."
  
  "Davos, please. I will take every precaution. I will focus on the White Walker and not let him out of my sight. I will anticipate his ice spear. Did Tormund leave a few dragonglass arrowpoints or some spearheads behind? Perhaps this time I can surprise him with a spear of my own. If he is as vulnerable to dragonglass as his wights, perhaps one perfectly aimed arrow will make his entire army powerless. Also, I want you to recall events at the Stony Shore. You witnessed with your own eyes how destructive a single burst of dragonfire can be. Rhaegal and Viserion have only grown more powerful since then. The three of us make a good team up there and we watch out for one another. My presence tonight may be the only thing that will save the brothers of the Night's Watch." Jon watched Davos' frown disappear as the man mulled over Jon's words.
  
  Ser Arthur got up and fetched something from the far corner of the tent. "Tormund ensured me it is one of his best bows and you are already familiar with it." He handed Jon a bow and a quiver filled with five arrows with dragonglass tips. "He asked me to tell you he would keep his eye out for you on the battlefield. That man knows you better than Davos."
  
  "Davos knows me well enough." Jon and Davos exchanged a wan smile. "He just isn't as eager as Tormund to send me into the fray. But thanks, Ser Arthur. This bow may be just what we need to defeat the entire army. The enemy has a very prominent weakness aside from fire and dragonglass. Take out their general and win the battle."
  
  "I pray you kill him first then." Davos told Jon. "It seems I am in for another sleepless night. "
  
  Jon touched Davos' upper arm. "I'll be back before you know it, Davos. I promise." His next sentence was addressed to both men. "If you have any useful ideas, now is the time to come forward. Keep it short though, I am eager to read these messages."
  
  They talked about possible strategies though they had to accept that since they did not know the exact terrain where the confrontation would take place, it was difficult to decide on anything but some general safety measures. Jon promised once more to be very vigilant and not to act on impulse but oversee the situation from up high. He would only make his presence known to the enemy after he had crafted a decent plan of attack. Soon Jon determined the subject had been exhausted for now. He eyed the dice in front of him. "Who was winning this time?"
  
  "Young man, you will not succeed in distracting me." Davos used a mocking tone but his expression was serious. "You have stalled long enough, son. I want you to tell me exactly what happened at Castle Black. Your reaction yesterday made me fear the worst. What have you said or done over there that made you act so guilty last night?"
  
  Jon lowered his head in shame. "It is not something I am proud of Davos. But it will not harm our cause if that is what you are scared about." And he proceeded to tell Davos and Ser Arthur all about his encounter with Jaime Lannister in the cell at Castle Black.
  
  Jon had expected the mixed feelings on both men's faces when he passed on Jaime Lannisters motives for stabbing King Arys in the back. Ser Arthur paled considerably. Jon knew from his own experience that the knight wondered how much this one misunderstood deed had affected all the bad choices Ser Jaime had made since then.
  
  To Jon's relief as soon as he had finished his confession as truthfully as his memory allowed, Davos granted him absolution saying nobody could be perfect the entire time and that things could have gone a lot worse. Jon promised to try and avoid similar confrontations in future before he left to read his personal messages in private.
  
  Jon still had ample time to himself before he had to leave. He retired to the sleeping tent and took out the two scrolls. He stared at them in indecision. Would he open Dany's missive first or would he save it until after when he had dealt with the other one so he could give it his undivided attention and savour her words? His mind made up, he opened Edric's message first. He had a good idea what it contained anyway. His friend indeed petitioned him once more to put in a good word with Lord Eddard Stark before he formally asked the Lord of Winterfell for a betrothal to Sansa Stark. Edric would be willing to wait twelve moons or more before making it public but he wanted Lord Stark's promise that he wouldn't betroth his daughter to anyone else in the interim. He swore it was Sansa's dearest wish as well as his own. Robb had given him the advice to enlist Jon's help since he feared his father might have another betrothal for his sister in mind. Edric ended his missive by reminding him of his lack of reply to his previous letter and pleaded him to at least send one this time even if it would not be the one he'd hoped for.
  
  Jon was hesitant to interfere. Lord Stark was still Sansa's father. Jon should only overrule a father's wishes for crucial political reasons, not to help a friend out however much he was sympathetic to his plight. He had been stalling with formulating a response, hoping the right solution would manifest itself. It would be cruel to leave Edric's plea unanswered for much longer though. He resolved to write an answer today. He would suggest that Edric address Lord Stark directly leaving out that he had asked for Jon's interference before approaching him. Jon could always attempt to subtly influence Lord Stark later should the man's reply not be the one they wished for. He would also caution Edric not to use Sansa's wishes as his strongest argument when he approached Lord Stark with his request. Sansa had only recently celebrated her fourteenth nameday and Lord Stark might wave away her feelings as nothing more than an imaginary infatuation of a young girl. Edric should build his case on his own merit.
  
  He eyed the scroll from Daenerys eagerly anticipating the content of the long awaited missive. He swallowed and broke the seal in a determined fashion. He sighed when he saw the words made no sense and was reminded he needed to decode the message first. A bit later he put the message down disappointed with its content. The only thing it contained was a generic explanation why she hadn't written to him sooner. She had no news to relate since her life was boring and nothing happened that was worth mentioning. She could only tell him once more how impatient she counted the days until it was safe for her to sail to Westeros and she hoped he was well and that they would meet soon. The reason the scroll looked thicker than usual was because she had included a drawing of a beautiful sigil that intertwined a dragon and a wolf.
  
  He closed his eyes and reached out to Ghost. Soon enough his loyal companion entered the tent and Jon hugged him until the wolf whined and readjusted his position to a more comfortable one. Jon laid his head on Ghost's flank and forced his disappointment to subside. Contrary to her, he had so much happening in his life. He probably would go mad being forced to wait around for years to be allowed to go home and to have no real purpose to fulfil until that happened. Well she would be in better spirits on the morrow when Ser Barristan arrived in Pentos. Jon decided not to answer her message for now. Next time that he contacted her she would be at Dragonstone.
  
  At least half of the settlement had come out to wave Jon off. They cheered him on as the dragons made and extra circle over their heads before flying in the direction of Craster's Keep. Orell for some reason had decided not to accompany him. No clouds hindered the cool light of the moon which meant he would be visible flying in. He might still have the element of surprise his first moments on the scene but it would be difficult to keep out of sight if he was too early. Jon decided to stay high up in the air and use his spyglass. That way he might see them before they noticed he was something more than a large bird. He hoped to have time to determine whether the Night's Watch was able to deal with the situation on their own or not before deciding to show himself.
  
  All his deliberations were in vain. When he arrived on the scene, the dead were attacking the Night's Watch and had them cornered already. The army of the living were flanked by a mountain on their left and a half frozen lake at their backs. The enemy attacked from the front as well as the right side of Mormont's formation.
  
  Jon didn't spot the White Walker right away. He persuaded Rhaegal and Viserion to hold off the attack and shared a mental image of a White Walker with an ice spear. Viserion immediately answered with an image of his own. Jon checked and congratulated the silver white dragon. The White Walker sat atop his horse on the mountain flank close to the top overlooking the battlefield from up high.
  
  Both dragons immediately grasped Jon's entire plan as soon as he sent an image of the first phase. Viserion waited until Rhaegal had circled around. The green dragon approached the White Walker from behind hovering just above the peak of the mountain. When Jon reached for his bow, Viserion provided the necessary distraction. He dove over the enemy and breathed fire over the entire length of their ranks. He circled back and repeated the same manoeuver over the other flank. All eyes were on him which gave Rhaegal the perfect opportunity to fly close enough to the unsuspecting White Walker. Rhaegal and Jon both were aware of the risk they were taking. Once they were spotted, Rhaegal's large body would be an easy target hoovering at close range. They would be sitting ducks. For now, they were safe. The ice creature had its ice spear at the ready and was aiming for Viserion. The silver white dragon was taunting the White Walker by flying random figures while ascending slowly to give his human more time.
  
  Jon's first arrow hit the White Walker in the head. It stuck out of the back of his head but the creature stayed upright. It turned around and faced Jon who was hovering on Rhaegal, a small distance separating them for the enemy. Jon's second arrow was nocked and ready to fire. Jon urged Rhaegal to flee the exact moment he discharged his second arrow. This time he aimed for the ice creature's heart.
  
  "Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself and watched the arrow fly straight to its mark. A large ice spear passed his arrow heading straight for his dragon. Rhaegal tried to evade the weapon with Jon holding on to the spikes on Rhaegal's back for dear life, fearing they would not get away in time. Best case scenario the large spear would hit Rhaegal's wing and not a vital part of his body.
  
  Suddenly fire lit up the sky before them. Viserion showed how smart and fast he was by targeting the spear and the icy thing never reached Rhaegal. The ice spear just kind of evaporated? Viserion had changed course as soon as the White Walker had turned its back to him, knowing the creature's next spear would now threaten his brother and human. Having melted ice and snow several times before in order to help his human and his companions traipse faster across this godsforsaken winterland, the dragon had not hesitated and had decided to attempt melting the spear.
  
  When the smoke lifted, the White Walker was no longer on the mountain flank. Jon still reeling from the events preceding their narrow escape soothed Rhaegal and asked him to fly over the spot where the creature had stood only moments ago. Viserion joined his brother and together they discovered a small heap of ice crystals with Jon's two arrows sticking from it and the decayed remains of what once used to be a big horse. He heard joyous shouting and turned his eyes to the battlefield. The men of the Night's Watch were cheering with their weapons raised in the air. All around lifeless bodies of their enemy littered the battlefield. Not a single wight had survived.
  
  Jon saw Tormund, Sandor and a bunch of others wave at him from the rear end of the former enemy lines. A field of carcasses stood between them and the Night's Watch. Jon waved back and signalled toward the direction he would land. Knowing he had time before they crossed the plain, he flew over the main host of the Night's Watch to assess the number of casualties and look out if anyone down there required urgent assistance. He landed as close to their ranks as possible and waited for Tormund and his companions to arrive before sending Rhaegal back up in the air and approaching the brothers of the Night's Watch.
  
  Jon searched the crowd when the battlefield fell silent. He noticed Tormund and Sandor weaving their way through the rotten remains of their defeated enemy in an attempt to get to him. Jon watched Edd Tollet hold his men back when Tormund burst into the open space and enveloped Jon in a bear hug. "My friend the Dragonrider to the rescue once more!" His voice boomed over the crowd on purpose, claiming Jon as his ally loud and clear. Sandor just nodded a greeting his face sporting a content expression for a change. Jon nodded back sensing the man was as least as happy as Tormund to see him. Only someone who knew Clegane well would be able to discern the relief in the big men's eyes, relief to see that Jon was well and not in the process of being threatened by stupid crows again.
  
  Tormund released Jon and looked around to assess the situation. He sobered when he saw a few seriously wounded men. "Zalter here is a healer. Perhaps he can have a look at them?"
  
  Jon's hand was near the hilt of his sword when Edd Tollet and two of his 'brothers' crossed the small distance to come out to greet him. He soon learned that Jeor Mormont had been one of the first to fall. An undead shadow cat had jumped him and the man had fallen from his horse only to land on a discarded weapon of a fallen brother. It was too soon to have a reliable body count. Putting their information together, Jon and Tollet estimated that at least fifty brothers had perished.
  
  This time nobody sneered at him when Jon walked past numerous men to reach the wagon where Jeor Mormont lay unconscious. Two men braved the fierce scowl of Tormund Giantsbane and enthusiastically thanked Jon. A third one started to clap his hands. Mere moments later that small gesture of appreciation had swelled into a loud applause accompanied by elated cheering. Jon had to worm his way through a sea of men to finally get to the Lord Commander. The man was unconscious and someone was awkwardly trying to dress a nasty looking abdominal wound. Jon reminded him to clean the wound first and encouraged them to transport their Lord Commander and perhaps a few other gravely injured brothers to Castle Black with only a small party and take the fastest horses. It would not do the Lord Commander any good to let the entire company slow them down. He assured Edd Tollet that the rest of the enemy was very far north and that they needn't fear an attack from the Free Folk since they all fought on the same side now. A few men approached Jon and apologized for their previous behaviour. Jon accepted their excuses with grace. He stressed once more that they were all on the same side now and that was all that mattered. He promised he would fly to Castle Black to alert them of what happened so they could send for a healer from the nearest town south of the Wall.
  
  At first light a wagon with three seriously injured men started its journey back to Castle Black. Jon had counselled Edd Tollet to burn the bodies of their fallen brothers. A large funeral pyre was lit as soon as all the names of the fallen had been recorded. Jon took his leave of Tollet promising him that they would see each other again at Castle Black.
  
  Jon walked alongside Sandor and the Free Folk back to the place where the small party had left their horses. An eagle waited there for him. Jon smiled. He was glad he could now fly directly to Castle Black. He needn't fly to the Free Folk Settlement first to reassure Davos. He quickly scribbled a short message for Davos. A few words to state that he was unharmed, they had defeated the enemy and Sandor was on his way back and could provide more details. He tasked Sandor to request Davos to travel back to Castle Black where their Prince would await them. They should not worry about finding Ghost. The wolf was already on its way to Castle Black. When Sandor asked if that was wise what with Renly Baratheon and Jaime Lannister there, Jon just shrugged his shoulders and told him nobody was allowed to send messages south of the Wall for now.
  
  This time, he did spot his Uncle Benjen when he flew over the white landscape. Despite the fact that the heavily loaded wagon with dragonglass weapons, Gendry's figure on a horse next to his uncle and the two brothers of the Night's Watch also on horseback increased their visibility from up high, it was the niggling feeling of the nearness of his four legged friend that had alerted Jon to the party below. It frustrated his uncle to no end that now that he was finally headed for the Free Folk settlement, Jon was flying in the opposite direction to warn Castle Black in all haste to fetch a healer. An irritated Benjen Stark practically forbade Jon to leave Castle Black and fly off on a whim before Benjen could return from his journey to the Free Folk settlement. Jon was not to go anywhere before they had a chance to spend some quality time together.
  
  Gendry grinned and told Jon he was grounded, literally. On Gendry's urging however, Benjen Stark explained to the young blacksmith once more how to reach the Free Folk settlement before abandoning him. He turned his horse around and followed Ghost, galloping through the woods at great speed back to Castle Black to reunite with his nephew who of course would arrive there long before he could.
  
  A sennight and a half later
  
  Jon's heart was beating so loud that he felt Rhaegal's nervous reaction to it. Viserion screeched loudly next to him clearly affected as well. Jon made an effort to reassure his dragons. What image did you send them to explain to both dragons he was just excited to finally meet his aunt again? He smiled reassuringly at Viserion who was flying as close as possible leaving just enough room for their large wings not to hinder each other. It always amazed Jon how in sync both dragons were.
  
  An image of him embracing Daenerys did the trick. He felt their teasing reply but also their joy at finally meeting the other member of their small family.
  
  Jon estimated they were flying over the Driftmark now. The heavy cloud cover did not help his still developing navigating skills. It would have been more sensible to wait out the storm before starting the last phase of their journey but being so close had been too tempting. The three of them braved the storm and dove below the clouds. Jon was soaking wet in no time but he ignored it taking in the sight of the exotic build of the castle.
  
  This was Dragonstone! He had admired drawings before and has seen it from afar through Rhaegal's eyes when he lived at the Driftmark but nothing had prepared him for the majestic sight from close by of this stronghold his Valyrian ancestors had built when they first came to Westeros. It looked nothing like any castle he had ever seen. He saw with his own eyes what the books had told him about the advanced Valyrian design and the strong stonemasonry techniques used to make it a virtually impenetrable fortress. It would be the perfect refuge, the perfect outpost to start his campaign from. When he finally was able to tear his eyes away, he noticed a large number of ships that danced on soft waves sheltered in a bay a few miles from the beach. He strained his neck and saw another bay filled with anchored ships on the other side of the island. Matters had progressed nicely here while he had been stuck in the North.
  
  As soon as he landed on a cliff near the castle he encouraged his dragons to seek shelter in the caves that were exactly where he had read they should be. Not long after, he regretted he had not asked Rhaegal to drop him off at the top of the long winding stairs. He was winded and even more soaking wet when he finally reached the large gate that provided entrance to the fortress. Either nobody had seen him descend from the clouds or they were all waiting safely inside so they could greet him without getting as wet as he was by now. Apparently it was the latter. Barely two steps inside, Jon got pulled in to a strong embrace only to be released and pulled into another one and another one. Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam greeted him as if he was the long lost son returning after countless years of exile instead of it being less than two moons since they had parted ways at Sea Dragon Point.
  
  After he had been hugged senseless by the three men that had gotten slightly wet in the progress and had enquired after their wellbeing, a servant approached carrying a few pieces of cloth he offered to the Targaryen Prince. The servant helped his new master discard his wet cloak and waited patiently for the young man to wipe his face and hands before making place for another servant who put a dry cloak over Jon's wet clothes.
  
  As soon as both servants left the hallway, Jon burst out. "Sam! I am so glad to see you. What are you still doing here?"
  
  Sam blushed. "Well, I... I found some books here that had been buried in a storage room under a pile of discarded Targaryen banners and ornaments and I just couldn't resist. As soon as I started to read some of the older scrolls I was hooked." His enthusiasm now made way for nervousness. "I did not disappoint you too much, I hope?" When Jon shook his head he continued once more with growing excitement. "I have been hunting specifically for hints on how best to forge weapons from dragonglass and I think I might have perhaps, possibly, eventually, but I am not sure, it is just a theory..."
  
  "Sam, slow down, speaking so fast is making me dizzy. A theory of what exactly?"
  
  "A long shot but worth trying out though, a theory on how to forge Valyrian Steel!" Sam waited with eagerness for his reaction.
  
  "Wow! Sam, should you succeed in that endeavour that would be the most important find in a thousand years. If there is even the slightest chance of creating something in the vicinity of that, I give you leave to postpone your Maester studies indefinitely. But let us talk about this later this evening. I need to change out of these wet clothes before I meet the Princess Daenerys."
  
  Ser Gerold who had not taken his eyes of his Prince relishing his safe return, interfered before Sam could butcher this delicate reply with his stammering. He scraped his throat to draw the young man's attention back to him. "The ship carrying the Princess home has not arrived yet. They left a day later than planned and the storm will probably have delayed them a bit as well."
  
  "Let us get you out of these wet clothes, my Prince. You will want to greet your new household staff when you are a bit more presentable. I'll alert the cook to prepare some hot soup as well as a hearty meal." Ser Oswell spoke up seeing his Prince shiver. "Come on, I'll escort you to the room that has been prepared for you."
  
  Upon entering a large room on the first floor of the castle, Jon looked around with amazement. He admired a wall covered with large Targaryen banners. Two beautiful dragon statues adorned a large crate in a corner. Every direction he looked, he spotted some exotic looking ornament most of them containing some reference to Valyria or House Targaryen. Even the furs on the bed were dyed in the colours of his father's house. 'My house,' he mentally corrected himself.
  
  "I bet this chamber was not in this state when you arrived here." Jon looked at Ser Oswell who clearly was enjoying his Prince's approval of his new quarters.
  
  "As a matter of fact, it was. Or at least it was halfway through its transformation. The servants started redecorating it as soon as our first scouts spread the rumours of your imminent arrival after Stannis had left. This only shows how welcome you are at Dragonstone, my Prince." Ser Oswell's eyes were moist when he finished this sentence.
  
  "I want to meet every single person who has helped to achieve this result. I want to thank them from the bottom of my heart. I presume these were my father's quarters, as Prince of Dragonstone?"
  
  "Yes, my Prince. And they are once more the quarters of the ruling Prince of Dragonstone. The servants wanted to help you change but I held them off for now wanting to clear this with you first. I know you are not used to being attended at all times of the day. You will need to adapt a little, my Prince. But I have given you a brief moment of respite and they will adjust to your habits. But please consider that they need the employment so allow them to do some things for you. It will make them happy as well."
  
  Ser Oswell moved to a door to his left side. "Through that archway there is a cosy sitting room and study. Sam found a beautiful colour drawing of Prince Rhaegar and the servants hung it over the fireplace in there." Jon followed Ser Oswell to the appointed spot.
  
  Both men contemplated the likeness for a long time. Ser Oswell swallowed several times to keep his tears at bay.
  
  That only heightened Jon's emotions. "I look nothing like him." He remarked softly after some time, regret apparent in his tone when he finally found his voice.
  
  "You do look like him, my Prince. Perhaps not at first sight what with your dark curls and Stark eyes. Look again. Compare your high cheek bones and delicate chin. Add to that the way you hold yourself, the way you move and almost dance while you are fighting. You are your father's son, without a doubt. With Rhaegal and Viserion beside you, nobody will be able to deny that you have the blood of the dragon. They alone are proof enough to convince even the most sceptical people in Westeros. If need be we have written proof as well."
  
  "I am not talking about proof, Ser Oswell. I'm well aware that we have that in abundance. Lord Stark and Ser Gerold made sure of that. It is just that I want to be a true, a good Targaryen. I want to make my father, my family proud and I can't explain why exactly I am plagued by this feeling that it would somehow be easier if I looked the part a bit more."
  
  "Those are just silly notions we grew up with, images that get stuck in our minds." Ser Gerold made both of them startle with his surprise appearance in the doorway. "Just like you were taught that the Free Folk were Wildlings, savages who didn't matter and were to be kept contained with lethal force. I'm sorry if I scared you, my Prince. I just came to warn you that the servants are all gathering in the Great Hall and want a chance to greet their Prince. More specifically they want to see with their own eyes how the Prince and future King Aegon Targaryen Sixth of his Name ascends the ceremonial stone throne where the Prince of Dragonstone normally holds court for his very first time."
  
  "Then I will make quick work of putting on some dry clothes. I want to grasp this chance to thank the people that made me feel so welcome. Can someone show me where they put the finer outfits I left on the ship for you to bring here?"
  
  "At least let him eat bit first, Ser Gerold." Ser Oswell pleaded with his Lord Commander. "Our Prince has flown for the most part of the last two days.
  
  "I'll tell the servants that our Prince needs a bit more time to recover from his long journey and will come as soon as he is able." Ser Gerold immediately complied.
  
  The Great Hall was packed with smallfolk. The moment Jon entered the room from a side door behind Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell who had donned a new cloak for the occasion, a silence fell over the room. Ser Gerold motioned for Jon to stay put for a moment. The Lord Commander of his Kingsguard approached the steps before the throne and addressed the people.
  
  "Please welcome Prince Aegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Lady Lyanna formerly of House Stark. He is the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Dragonrider." He motioned for Jon to come forward. The Lord Commander kept his sharp eyes on the people in the front rows. He had ordered the new guards he had recruited amongst loyal families he knew from before and were still living on Dragonstone to search everyone for weapons and not to allow the smallest dagger inside the room. But still you could never be too sure.
  
  Ser Oswell kept himself between his Prince and the smallfolk until Jon ascended the steps before the throne. Only then did the knight position himself before the steps to his Prince's left. Ser Gerold mirrored his position at the right side of the throne. It was the first time Jon laid eyes on the beautiful room. To do so in front of at least a hundred witnesses made the experience even more surreal. He was aware that everybody was waiting to catch their first glimpse of his face. It intimidated him even more than the sight of the throne before him, the throne of the Prince of Dragonstone.
  
  The small drawing in the book on House Targaryen did not do this seat justice. The sight of this throne, and the entire majestic feel of the room, took him by surprise. He was overwhelmed by the righteous beauty of it all. The throne was carved out of a large piece of volcanic rock in such an artistic way that it looked as if the rock's sole purpose for existing had been to put the Prince of Dragonstone into the spotlight and to exhibit the power of House Targaryen. Jon noticed the carvings had the form of dragon scales. A triangular shaped window behind the throne filtered the sunlight that fell on the seat to make the ceremonial chair look even more magical. In some places the warm rays of the sun lit up the neatly polished rock so it looked as if numerous silver leafs were seamlessly embedded into the dark grey rock. With difficulty Jon tore his eyes away from this symbol of Targaryen power and finally turned around to face his people who had stayed silent while they waited for the first real glimpse of their Prince. Jon swallowed and turned around praying fervently that his predominant Stark features would not disappoint them.
  
  To Jon it felt as if the crowd was stunned by his sight. His nervousness grew. Then, one person in the front row kneeled, a few others followed and soon the entire audience paid their respect to the newly arrived Prince of Dragonstone in a similar fashion. Jon needed all his mental strength to conceal how out of his depth he suddenly felt. He hadn't done anything yet to deserve the subservience of these people but still every single one of them granted it to him without prejudice. He felt overwhelmed and the feeling of belonging, of homecoming only got stronger. He stared at his subjects who had kept their kneeling position. Ser Gerold smiled encouragingly at his Prince when Jon ventured a look his way.
  
  "Please rise, people of Dragonstone." Jon was glad his voice somehow still sounded firm and didn't betray the myriad of emotions warring inside of him. He waited patiently until everyone stood once more and the low murmurs had dimmed somewhat before continuing.
  
  "I thank you all for the warm welcome I received from you. I will treasure the memories of this day for as long as I live." He paused to take in the sight before him. His eyes swept over the crowd. He wanted to give his loyal audience the impression he noticed each and every one of them. He also observed Sam standing unobtrusively next to the side door Jon had come through. His friend held a flat wooden tablet and was scribbling fervently. Jon guessed an empty scroll not visible to his eyes lay on top of this makeshift portable desk and Sam was recording things for posterity.
  
  He would have a word with Sam about this later.
  
  For now he focused his attention on the crowd before him. He took heart in the devotion he witnessed in their demeanour. This time he knew his voice would be firm and loud enough so that his words would find their way even to the people standing against the main door at the back of the room. The sight of the three headed dragon carved in the wood of that large door visible above the crowd distracted him for an instant. Somehow the Targaryen sigil inspired him and all of a sudden he knew what he was going to say to the crowd that was waiting patiently for their Prince to continue his address.
  
  "Tomorrow my kin, Princess Daenerys, daughter of King Arys and Queen Rhaella will arrive from Pentos where she was forced to live in exile all these years. I hope you will give her the same warm welcome as I have received when she finally comes home to the place where she was born. Dragonstone belongs to House Targaryen once more and by the grace of the Gods, we will never have to give it up again!" His voice had risen in volume at the end of this declaration. A loud spontaneous applause followed his words. Jon waited for it to lessen before he continued.
  
  "Not only did I bring two powerful dragons with me, I am fortunate to have the support of three loyal knights, members of the Kingsguard that once served my father, Prince Rhaegar. Many of you will recognise to my right the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower and to my left Ser Oswell Whent. Ser Arthur Dayne who is currently helping our allies in the North, survived the Rebellion as well and will join us later. I owe my life to these three excellent men. Together with House Stark, my mother's kin, they have protected me from the first moment I was born until this very day. I hope to have their loyal support for years to come." Loud cheers erupted as soon as Jon paused once more. He let them run its course enjoying the fact that Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell for once got their time in the spotlight. When the cheers had almost died down, he held up his right hand to silence them so he could continue his speech. He felt empowered by their response and knew this was his opportunity to cement their loyalty and support.
  
  "All around the realm, allies are working together to help House Targaryen regain its rightful place as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. And I thank each and every one of them. Their silence and discretion have kept me safe for seventeen years. An important part of our strategy to restore the Iron Throne to House Targaryen is stealth and surprise. I beseech you all not to endanger our campaign by sending word of our presence here to the mainland. If we can keep this knowledge from reaching King's Landing for the time being, our plan to..." Jon faltered. 'Could he really do this? Be so brazen as to claim the throne so publicly, tempt the Gods?'
  
  He swallowed and tried once more. "If the Gods are willing, we will depose Robert of House Baratheon with a minimum of bloodshed, and I, Aegon Targaryen vow to you that I will rule the Seven Kingdoms, protect the realm, make it prosper and will do my utmost to keep the peace for as long as I shall reign. So I urge you once more not to send word neither to friends nor family outside of Dragonstone. I count on you all to keep us safe."
  
  The crowd cheered very loudly now. Someone shouted "All hail King Aegon, Sixth of his name! Long may he reign!" This shout was picked up by others and soon the hall was filled with similar chants. This time Jon's hand gestures didn't incite the crowd to stop making noise and listen to him once more. He looked over to Ser Gerold for guidance. The man shrugged his shoulders slightly only perceptible to Jon and smiled proudly. Jon waited a while longer. He turned his head slightly to study the throne. It seemed to lure him in, stronger even, its magnetism seduced him into sitting on it. He stayed upright however, knowing his speech would make a greater impact that way. Finally the cheering lessened.
  
  "Some of my allies have already reached these shores. For the next sennights more ships carrying loyal men from the North, the Riverlands, the Driftmark and from Dragonstone as well will arrive. They will bring food and other resources with them. Also merchant ships with grain will arrive from Pentos. I urge you all to work closely together with these men who are ready to defend our shores against an attack if need be. Help them organize shelter and prepare meals. Together we will ensure Dragonstone will once more become an impenetrable Targaryen stronghold and a safe haven for all who live here. Let me thank you all again for this amazing welcome."
  
  During the standing ovation he received Jon lowered himself gracefully onto his ancestral throne. The happy wide smile he showed the crowd came naturally. The feeling of belonging and homecoming grew stronger than ever. Never in his short life had he been more certain than at this exact moment that what he was doing now was what he had been born to do. His destiny lay here, on these shores. Fuck the Iron Throne. Once Robert Baratheon was gone and he was officially proclaimed the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, he would rule the Seven Kingdoms from Dragonstone. King's Landing could be the capital in name but he would not sit upon that cursed throne. Jon realised his feelings were not rational but were coloured by this experience. He perceived everything through a drunken haze, not due to alcohol but encouraged mostly by the admiration of the crowd and the sight of this imposing stronghold. In this state, nothing, nobody could persuade him that the much fought over Iron Throne would inspire the same feelings in him. When the cheers died out of their own accord, he was at a loss for what to do next.
  
  Ser Gerold sensing his Prince's indecision dismissed everyone by stating that their Prince had just arrived after a long journey and that they would have plenty of opportunity to see him around now that he resided here. Slowly but surely the crowd poured out of the Great Hall.
  
  "You did well, my Prince." Ser Gerold praised him when they were finally alone.
  
  "He did exceedingly well," Ser Oswell said with obvious approval. "If you can make such an inspiring speech when tired and taken unawares, we should have used your words as our weapons earlier. A few rousing speeches like this in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms and the people will carry you to the Iron Throne upon their shoulders."
  
  Jon blushed scarlet. "Do not exaggerate please. This was just a happy fluke. The audience was on my side before I uttered a single word. The smallfolk here loved my father and I am fortunate that they accepted me as his son despite my looks."
  
  "Do not be so humble, my Prince. That attitude won't win you the Seven Kingdoms. "This hearty welcome was not solely because of their love for Prince Rhaegar. The people of the Driftmark that came here to help prepare for your arrival have spread word of your personality, your deeds, the way you control your dragons and have told stories about your loyal exotic looking direwolf." Ser Gerold was quick to point out.
  
  "I am very fortunate," was Jon's only answer.
  
  "As soon as you feel up to it, we need to hold a strategy meeting. I have received updates from the capital written by Varys but containing things Eddard Stark asked him to write. I also want to know what mess you got yourself into at the Wall. The few reports that reached me are probably incomplete, not telling the whole story and outdated by now. Still, some of them have me worried." Ser Gerold was quick to get back to business.
  
  Jon looked around but Sam appeared to have left as well. Probably to write everything down now that it was still fresh in his mind.
  
  Perhaps we can reconvene after lunch? I only ate a few spoonfuls of a delicious soup. I presume there is a meeting room somewhere in this impressive stronghold?"
  
  "There is, my Prince." Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell spoke at the same time. Ser Gerold signalled Ser Oswell to proceed.
  
  "If you so desire, I will show you around later today, my Prince." The knight offered and bowed.
  
  "Not so formal when in private, please." Jon smiled at the two men. "I thank you, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell but if Princess Daenerys arrives tomorrow, I want to discover the sights of Dragonstone together with her. If you can show me where to find the meeting room then that will be sufficient exploring for today."
  
  "We both will escort you there after lunch, my Prince." Ser Gerold promised.
  
  "Oh and I will want Lord Samwell Tarly to be present at our meeting as well. He will become a fixed member of my small council as soon as he is a Maester in his own right. We might as well profit from his wisdom now that he is still with us. Even without formal training he has already proven himself a valuable asset and I consider myself lucky to have his counsel."
  
  "As are we, my Prince." Ser Gerold affirmed.
  
  After supper, in the formal meeting room of his castle with the beautifully carved table, Jon learned that his uncle, Eddard Stark together with the King and his retinue had arrived at the Red Keep a few days before. Apparently they had not wasted any time. Two new laws had been put before the small council and Littlefinger would stand trial any day now. The King appeared sober and according to Varys' account he had also lost a bit of weight.
  
  Jon received this news with mixed feelings. "Uncle Ned passed the law about limiting the authority of armed guards already? I thought this would be one of my first reforms when I became King. It was my idea to improve the lot of the people in King's Landing and garner their goodwill in the process." He shook his head. "What is Uncle Ned thinking?"
  
  "He is being his honourable self and putting the well-being of the people first and our cause second." Ser Gerold's tone was disapproving. "If it is any consolation to you, my Prince, I do not think he did so with the intent to harm you. I am inclined to believe he got carried away. I suggest you write a diplomatic letter to him through Varys. Perhaps Sam can help you with that?"
  
  Jon looked at Sam who tried to stay inconspicuous. His friend smiled back at Jon as soon as their eyes met. "Sam, perhaps we can address this issue tonight if I am not too tired."
  
  "Of course, Jon. I mean, my Prince." The young man stammered.
  
  "Jon in private is still allowed, Sam." Jon sighed. "Please everyone. I am not a King yet. Nothing has changed."
  
  "This is where I politely contradict you, my Prince." Ser Oswell interjected before Ser Gerold got the chance. "Moments ago, you became the ruling Prince of Dragonstone and publicly announced your future role as King. "People perceive you different now and that includes us as well."
  
  "Not to mention to us Targaryen loyalists, you have always been our King but we adhered to your orders and addressed you as our Prince for the time being. We will need to start calling you Aegon instead of Jon as well." Ser Gerold added in an unwavering manner.
  
  "But in private..."
  
  "We will still treat you with the respect you are due." At Jon's exasperated expression he relented. "But we will try to be a bit less formal than we need to be in public." His words were supported by consenting nods from Ser Oswell and Sam.
  
  "You cannot escape your destiny, Aegon. Besides you are embracing it just fine even if you are struggling with the formalities of a royal court. You are a born leader. The slight increase in formality in our address is just our way of showing you how much we love and respect you." Sam looked apologetic but still made his point by calling his friend Aegon for the first time.
  
  "Our young Tarly has a wonderful way with words. Do we really need to send him to the Citadel?" Ser Oswell remarked half-jokingly.
  
  Jon however considered this last question in all seriousness. "I have been struggling with this as well. Sam however needs to decide for himself what his priorities are for the moment." He smiled wryly at his friend. "Perhaps we can talk about this, the two of us at some time in the course of the next few days? I trust you will stay with us for at least a few more days?"
  
  "Of course, Aegon. But I am curious to hear about your adventures at the Wall. Did you meet more White Walkers? Did you encounter Jaime Lannister or Prince Renly Baratheon at Castle Black? I think I can speak for all three of us when I say we are bursting with curiosity."
  
  "Sam, at least in private, please don't call me Aegon. It sounds strange coming from a friend who has known me as Jon. If you do not want to use that name anymore, can we agree on my Prince for now? I have gotten used to that appellation over the years."
  
  When Sam didn't respond, Jon launched in an uncensored detailed chronological account of everything that had happened since they had parted at Sea Dragon Point. Even though his audience knew much of the first part of his story from reading his messages already, they were riveted and Jon was interrupted a few times by curses or requests for more specifics, the latter mostly from Ser Gerold. Sam was scribbling fervently. Jon explained Jeor Mormont had perished two days after returning to Castle Black. His nasty abdominal wound had become infected and the man had succumbed to a fever.
  
  "Lord Reed had it right again." Sam remarked. When Ser Oswell looked baffled he explained. "Can't you see? Jeor Mormont perished by obtaining a deadly wound when he fell on a friendly sword of a defeated ally. But he fell because he was pushed by an undead shadow cat. Don't you remember the vision he revealed to Jon at Greywater Watch? The one that we tried so hard to make sense of? 'Lion trumps bear without either one using their claws'. A large shadow cat can easily be mistaken for a lion."
  
  Jon nodded gravely at Sam and then continued to describe how according to Edd Tollet the gravely wounded man had been conscious during large parts of their return journey to Castle Black and that once there he had apologized to Jon. Shortly before he died he had gifted his Valyrian sword Longclaw to Cotter Pyke after Jon had politely declined the gift himself excusing his refusal by showing him Blackfyre and hinting that a worthy purpose for the sword could be to become the Valyrian Sword of The Wall. If Mormont agreed, it would be handed down to each new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch from now on.
  
  Jon described how the Night's Watch had trouble dealing with their injured now that they no longer had their own Maester. He had asked Cotter Pyke to search for a volunteer amongst the brothers of the Night's Watch who was intelligent enough to send to the Citadel to start a Maester's training. That way, if the Citadel didn't want to condemn a Maester to serve at the Wall for the rest of his life, they only needed to send a temporary replacement until that time that the Night's Watch recruit had forged his chain.
  
  Cotter Pyke was still interim Lord Commander of the Night's Watch back then and had promised to do his utmost. Upon Jon's request he would also release Jaime Lannister from his solitary confinement as soon as Jon and most of his retinue had left Castle Black and would encourage Prince Renly to give up his self-inflicted isolation.
  
  "The Watch still needs to elect a new commander?" Sam asked.
  
  "Two days after Jeor Mormont's funeral, Cotter Pyke was formally elected as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. It was fascinating to see how everybody gets a vote to elect their leader. It gives even the lowest recruit a say and makes him feel he can make a difference. It made me question some of our appointments." Jon looked at his audience and saw Sam was the only one who nodded. The others looked rather sceptical at this unfamiliar concept.
  
  "Anyway the new Lord Commander faced his first challenge mere moments after he was elected when he was forced to welcome Prince Oberyn and the exotic looking Nymeria Sand, one of the Prince's beautiful young daughters to Castle Black. I witnessed the strict orders he gave his men when Prince Oberyn and his daughter were escorted to their quarters by Rykker and Stokeworth. The brothers of the Night's Watch were to keep their distance and not engage the lady in conversation if they could avoid it. He threatened with harsh punishments if disobeyed."
  
  "I bet his popularity took a dive." Ser Oswell remarked.
  
  Jon ignored this interruption and continued. "Prince Oberyn received his orders as well. His daughter was not allowed to wander about by herself, she had to be chaperoned by at least two trusted men at all times. Pyke even instructed her to conceal her feminine features by dressing in male clothes and cover up her long hair."
  
  "I would have liked to witness that scene." Ser Gerold was the one that interrupted him this time.
  
  "I found something to take their minds off that and to separate the two slightly insulted Dornish from Cotter Pyke immediately." Jon said matter of fact.
  
  When he noticed two raised eyebrows, one of Ser Gerold and the other of Ser Oswell, he explained.
  
  "I invited the Prince and his daughter to accompany me the top of the Wall and asked Uncle Benjen to come along within earshot of Cotter Pyke. Now follows the scene you should have liked to witness, Ser Gerold. Once they exited the wooden elevator Nymeria as well as her father fell silent, awed by the sheer magnitude of the ice structure combined with the amazing winter landscape that stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Uncle Benjen and I shared a secret smile, acknowledging this was the first time ever we had been able to successfully shut Prince Oberyn up for a substantial amount of time."
  
  He paused to check whether his audience appreciated his tale as much as he did remembering it. Everyone smiled but stayed silent eager to hear the next part.
  
  Jon continued his report by relaying they had enjoyed each other's company for two days before Jon needed to leave for a scouting mission. Nymeria had sparred with him but this time her father hadn't taken the bait, not even after Jon's teasing that he was afraid of losing against a green boy.
  
  What he didn't tell them was how Prince Oberyn had expressed his worries about Robb Stark handling the affairs of the Northern Kingdom. The Prince had described Robb's worn out demeanour, Maester Luwin's illness, underlining the fact that Robb didn't have as many loyal advisors as a certain Targaryen Prince. Jon didn't want Robb to be humiliated in the eyes of others and immediately after thanking the Dornish Prince for informing him, he had entreated Prince Oberyn to keep this information to himself, promising Prince Oberyn he would personally see to it that Robb got the necessary support.
  
  He did tell Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam that Prince Oberyn and his daughter had been disappointed that he could not spare them much time since he needed to abandon them for a scouting mission two days into their visit. Fortunately Uncle Benjen and Prince Oberyn had renewed their easy going relationship and Jon had left secure in the knowledge that Uncle Benjen would keep an eye on the impulsive Prince and make sure he didn't get in too much trouble before Jon was able to return. He returned to Castle Black sooner than expected much to the relief of Davos Seaworth. Jon focussed his eyes on Ser Gerold now.
  
  "I can report that the enemy was still stationed in the far North be it a bit closer to the east side where I spotted a special encampment of the army of the dead in a large open space flanked on all sides by a ring of imposing white mountains. I stayed at a safe distance and used my spyglass. I could clearly sense Rhaegal's and Viserion's reluctance to fly closer. I must confess I am still none the wiser as to what the enemy's next move is going to be. It is impossible at this stage to determine a time schedule. The only thing I can safely conclude is that we have a respite of at least a moon most likely even several."
  
  Spotting Ser Gerold's dejected look, Jon was quick to point out the positive sides of this situation. "Time will work in our favour, Ser Gerold. The Night's Watch and the Free Folk can start strengthening their defences. Gendry and his assistants will have ample time to provide the brothers of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk with sufficient dragonglass weapons. I made sure both parties were convinced of the need to prepare defensive traps around the fortresses along the Wall and the Free Folk settlements." Jon coughed. He was getting hoarse from all the talking and looked around for something to drink. Ser Oswell was the one to hand him a cup of water and Jon took it gratefully. He drank half of the contents quickly and filtered through his news deciding not to tell them about his conversation with Sandor Clegane or Benjen Stark just yet.
  
  He put the cup down and continued his account.
  
  "I do not have to explain how disappointed Prince Oberyn and Nymeria were when they learned that almost immediately after returning from the scouting mission not only I but the rest of my loyal group were planning to leave Castle Black. Prince Oberyn took me aside and complained the journey had taken so long and he hardly got to spend some time with me."
  
  Jon looked at Sam when he continued. "I suggested he could travel to King's Landing now and accept the position on the small council that had recently been offered to him by the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark. The Prince immediately jumped at the chance now that things were developing quickly. He even winked at me and told me he wanted to be at the center of the action when everything went down. He mockingly ordered me to wait for him before staging my coup. "
  
  If everyone left Castle Black, then where are they now?" Ser Gerold asked, perplexed that Sandor and Ser Arthur would abandon their post.
  
  "The ship with dragonglass arrived on the east coast, Ser Gerold. That is why Davos, Ser Arthur, and Gendry have left for Eastwatch the same day I started to fly south. They have taken Ghost with them. Rykker and Stokeworth were allowed to come along as well and will act as my protection detail when I join them at Eastwatch. Prince Oberyn and his daughter eventually decided to accompany them and sail to King's Landing from Eastwatch.
  
  Gendry will put the old workshop at that fortress back in working order and will immediately start the enormous task of forging weapons from the large quantity of dragonglass that our ship has brought north. I urged him to train more men to assist him and not to overdo it. I assured him that we have more time than expected before the dreaded confrontation. Lord Commander Pyke has written an order to the current garrison commander there to facilitate the new arrivals as much as is reasonable and to assign men to assist the young blacksmith in every way they can."
  
  "Davos, after long deliberation, decided to board the same ship escorting the Prince and his daughter that left for White Harbour. Once there they will split up since Davos will assume command of one of our five ship formations leaving White Harbour with destination Dragonstone and the Prince will find a ship that sails directly to King's Landing. It took me a little effort to convince Ser Arthur to join Davos on this voyage south. I argued I would not be with them the first few sennights and when I do return to Eastwatch, I will be safe enough there. The Night's Watch doesn't pose a threat any longer. Rykker and Stokeworth will be there with me. Sandor will help coordinate the defences between the Free Folk and The Night's Watch at Castle Black."
  
  "Does that mean you will not return to Castle Black at all?" Ser Oswell had trouble keeping up with Jon's fast changing plans.
  
  "I plan to use Eastwatch as a base of operations once I return to the Wall. I estimate that will be after a stay here at Dragonstone of probable two or three sennights. Coordinating with the leaders of the Free Folk and the Night's Watch will be easy for me since the distance between Eastwatch and Castle Black means nothing when travelling on dragon's back. That way Jaime Lannister and Prince Renly needn't be confined for my sake. Besides, Sandor is still my direct contact over there."
  
  Before they could ask further questions, he explained that Jaime Lannister had been imprisoned beneath the castle and that Prince Renly appeared to be on house arrest of some sort. The Baratheon Prince had not left his quarters who Jon had been reassured were quite luxurious for Night's Watch standards. Cotter Pyke claimed that the Prince's confinement was of his own volition. Jon noticed Sam's queer look when he mentioned Jaime Lannister and he swiftly continued his tale so nobody could think to ask any questions.
  
  "Before flying south, I made a quick stop at the Free Folk settlement and gave them the newest information on the enemy's position in person. I also provided some recommendations on building up their defenses and assured Mance and Tormund that dragonglass weapons were being produced in abundance and they would get their share. More importantly, Orell has promised to check the position of our enemy every other sennight and Mance Rayder will send regular reports to Castle Black."
  
  Jon concealed for now that during his goodbye visit to the Free Folk settlement, Sandor Clegane had asked to talk to him and had immediately come out and explained his dilemma. He was loyal to Jon to a fault and would uphold his vows but he was also very sure that after his time with the Free Folk, he would have even more difficulty to build some semblance of a normal life in the South. He had never fit in there before and he would even less now that he had discovered the Free Folk. They were his kind of people... blunt, honest, crude. He had even started to entertain the thought of starting a family here and perhaps even siring children, something he had never thought possible for him before.
  
  From a very young age he had come to understand that people abhorred his scars and that women not only thought him ugly but were actually scared of him, even before he approached them and was able to utter a single word, southern women would walk an extra mile in bad weather just to avoid having to meet him and being forced to offer a greeting.
  
  Here, beyond the Wall, the women loved his look, his attitude, his strength even his way of talking. Here beyond the Wall, he wore his scars as a badge of honour. Here he had friends, real friends that he could talk to and that understood him and he them. He confessed he had taken a liking to a fierce woman with red hair who would not hesitate to steal him the moment he subtly let her know he was partial to it.
  
  Jon had listened attentively and had nodded a few times during Clegane's tale. He hadn't hesitated with his response. "I need a representative here in the north, Sandor. You are actually solving a problem for me. Benjen Stark needs to return to Winterfell for a while and I would love to have my uncle visit me regularly or even stay in the South. You could become my official liaison, my representative here at the Wall with the Night's Watch and the Free Folk. I would ask of you to visit Castle Black at regular intervals, the frequency of these visits depending on the situation at the time but that would not prevent you from living amongst the Free Folk. I am happy for you, Sandor. Truly." Jon had refrained from touching the big man but he knew Sandor was moved when he noticed the slight shifting of the big man's jaw.
  
  He kept that conversation to himself. Neither would he divulge the details of his meeting with Uncle Benjen. They both had felt the strain on their relationship caused by Jon's frequent absences. An open-hearted discussion had ensued and they had reached a consensus. Uncle Benjen would write a letter to Robb announcing his imminent visit. He would leave the Wall once he was sure Jon's entourage had reached Eastwatch safely and Gendry needed no extra resources. Benjen Stark would then travel to Winterfell, help Robb set matters straight over there. After that he would be free to come south to become a fixed part of Jon's inner circle there. Uncle Benjen had joked he had the best claim to be named grandfather to Jon's children. Both men had said an emotional goodbye comforted by the happy prospect of a shared future.
  
  Knowing Ser Gerold's rigid stance on the tasks of his Kingsguard he would wait until the situation at the Wall was resolved to inform him he was one Kingsguard short.
  
  Ser Gerold's discreet cough brought Jon back to the present. He quickly ended his account by relaying how the flight to Dragonstone had gone smoothly except for the last spell of bad weather. Soon after, they adjourned the meeting. The rest could wait since Jon would be with them for longer than they had expected.
  
  That night Jon slept in a bed fit for a king bed and dreamt of a future where things would be easier. The last part of his dream had been strange however. He had enjoyed the sight of three young children playing with the black egg. He woke up with a start remembering that he had forgotten to ask Ser Gerold where they had hidden the third dragon egg. He planned to show it to Dany soon after her arrival.
  
  Dany stood at the bow of the ship and watched how the shoreline and the fortress grew bigger with each mile they sailed closer to the island. She had put on her best dress. It had taken Septa Moelle and herself ages to embroider it but it had been worth the effort. She knew that she looked regal. The people at Dragonstone would immediately recognise her for the Princess she was. She hoped her nephew would be proud of her.
  
  Ser Barristan had told her Prince Aegon most likely would still be at the Wall facing a mythical enemy but she was not so sure that he was right. She could have sworn she had spotted a dragon earlier and had asked the loyal knight to procure a spyglass for her. As soon as he reappeared with the requested item, Dany awkwardly pointed it at the spot where she had been so sure she had spotted the silver white animal. Thoroughly scouring the green landscape with the spyglass didn't make her any wiser. Disappointed she handed the spyglass back to Ser Barristan. The man however didn't accept it right away. In fact he didn't notice her holding it out to him. His head was lifted upwards and he seemed to be admiring something. Daenerys followed his gaze. Heavens be praised. There they were. The silver white dragon, Viserion she recalled, was flying towards their ship followed by his brother Rhaegal. Daenerys filled with relief laughed out loud. If both dragons were here, then her nephew was here as well. She waved enthusiastically at the dragons. Her heart sang with joy. She was here, he was here. They were home!
  
  Daenerys almost forgot the royal impression she wanted to make on the large crowd who had gathered to welcome her home. She refrained herself at the very last moment from jumping out of the small rowing boat that carried her to the beach. Slowly she made her first tentative steps on the white sand, her eager eyes searching for the dark curly head of her nephew amidst the crowd.
  
  She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. The crowd had split in two and were bowing to him as he strode purposely toward her, his head held high. If anyone looked regal, it was him. Despite his youth, he exuded leadership and had a charming personality that apparently already had won him the devotion of the smallfolk here on Dragonstone. She hesitated, not sure how to conduct such a public greeting. Her nephew also faltered a fraction of a moment when their eyes met but then a welcoming smile lit his handsome features and he continued his approach. When he stood a mere step away, he took both of her hands in his and kissed her right cheek.
  
  "May I be the first to welcome you to our ancestral lands, Princess Daenerys? I wish only happy days will befall you on these shores." A playful wink belied the formality of his words.
  
  "I thank you, Prince Aegon. I am glad to finally be home where I belong." She played along for the benefit of the crowd to which she addressed her next words. "I thank you all for this nice welcome. It warms my heart to see House Targaryen still counts so many devoted supporters on this island that has been our family's home for centuries and is our home once again. I promise that the Prince and I will forever be grateful for your unwavering loyalty."
  
  Happy cheers rose up. Jon exchanged a warm be it formal greeting for the sake of the crowd with Ser Barristan and thanked him for bringing Princess Daenerys safely home.
  
  "I am glad to see you surrounded by the people of Dragonstone, my Prince. It warms my old heart to witness that a trueborn Targaryen once more rules this castle."
  
  "Ser Jorah Mormont did not travel with you?" Jon asked the knight after acknowledging his statement with a nod.
  
  "He volunteered to stay behind, close the villa and tie up other loose ends." Ser Barristan hesitated before he continued. "You do realise that the pardon that was offered to him will have to be granted by a ruling King. So if you offer it to him now it will have no value until you are officially the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. King Robert can apprehend him the moment he sets foot on Westerosi soil and your father would be obliged to carry out the sentence he condemned Mormont to all these years ago."
  
  "He will be as safe on Dragonstone as the Princess. King Robert wants both their heads. Mine as well if he knew of my existence. Does Mormont not know that?" Jon countered.
  
  "Rationally he does, the mind and the heart though are not always on the same side. He will re-join Princess Daenerys' entourage, my Prince, only with a slight delay. He is extremely loyal to her."
  
  Ser Barristan smiled at seeing Daenerys mingle with the people. "The people see her and remember her mother and brother."
  
  "The people seem to remember you too, Ser Barristan." Jon looked pointedly at a group who was trying to get the knight's attention. "Please take your time to greet them. I'll escort the Princess to the Great Hall."
  
  He held his arm out to Daenerys and when she took it, he firmly tucked her small hand under his elbow and led her to where Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell were discreetly keeping an eye on their Prince.
  
  "I believe you remember Ser Oswell from our visit in Pentos. That leaves me to present to you the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard, who once held the same position for your father and brother. This is Ser Gerold."
  
  After a short polite exchange Jon took her arm again and proceeded to lead her towards the long winding steps she had read about in the beautiful bound book that always rested on her night stand ever since he had gifted it to her. The heavy tome was now safely packed in a trunk and had made the journey alongside her. It would soon find a place in her bedchambers once more.
  
  "I hope your shoes are comfortable enough." He whispered in her ear. "I haven't counted the steps but they sure are numerous."
  
  "I'll manage, besides I have your arm to lean on to." She answered shyly and looked deep into his grey Stark eyes. They were the same intelligent, sensitive orbs she had so often dreamed of.
  
  "Always," was his solemn reply and he returned the intensity of her gaze.
  
  Daenerys blushed but attacked the stairs with renewed energy. She was winded when they reached the top. "Amazing sight isn't it." Jon remarked when he saw her admire the large gate that provided entrance to the stronghold. Her cheeks were red from exertion, her breath a bit laboured. It only enhanced her attractiveness.
  
  "Indeed. It is the first time I see the sigil of our house displayed so large and brazenly for all to see. I have only seen it in books and on some faded banners my brother had smuggled from Westeros." Daenerys had just enough breath left to tell him.
  
  "Is it really brazen to have your sigil decorate the door of your own stronghold?" he remarked in a slightly teasing tone.
  
  "It is when it is that large and ostentatious." She returned his smile feeling happy that he was so playful in her company.
  
  He waited till her breathing had evened out and they both admired the view from up there. Then he took her hand in his again. "Come on, let me show you inside. I have only seen the throne room and the few rooms I used to eat, hold a meeting in and sleep. It was enough though to be mighty impressed with our ancestors who built this place."
  
  Daenerys stopped him the moment the large door closed behind the four of them. The two Kingsguard moved a bit to the side to give them some privacy. She turned to him with wide eyes. "You have only... Aegon, or do you still call yourself Jon? When did you arrive?" She saw the colour rise in his cheeks.
  
  "Yesterday. I had calculated you would arrive yesterday and I wanted to be there too to..."
  
  He couldn't finish his sentence. Daenerys had embraced him. Her slim arms were hugging him fiercely. "Thank you," she whispered in his ears. "It means a lot to me that you made the effort to come all this way. It means you still want me with you. I was worried that I was just another duty for you, just another responsibility."
  
  "If you are, you are certainly the most beautiful one." He teased but the light in his eyes betrayed that he was flirting a bit with her. "You are not just another duty. You are my kin, the only kin of my Targaryen family." He slowly entangled her arms from his neck and tucked her hand under his elbow once more. His eyes had lost a bit of their warmth and seemed more reserved all of a sudden. She hoped it was because he remembered the recent demise of their Uncle Aemon or the fact that they were chaperoned by his two guards who had averted their eyes when she embraced him and not due to the fact that her impulsive gesture had embarrassed him. Together they entered the Great Hall where the Targaryen throne caught her eyes immediately. She startled when he spoke up again.
  
  "To answer your earlier question, I think that here at Dragonstone and when I start my campaign openly, I need to be Aegon. Don't be mad though if I won't always react to it at first. I still think of myself as Jon. I have learned to respond to 'my Prince' though." He teased.
  
  Daenerys didn't reply. She didn't look him in the eyes not wanting to betray too soon that his deep voice made her feel warm inside and she was once more very much in love with him. Just as she had been almost from the first moment they met moons ago in Pentos. She focused on the beautiful sight of the throne she had heard her brother talk about so often when he was still alive.
  
  Interlude20: Ravens
  
  To my adopted brother Jon,
  
  When are you coming to visit Winterfell again? I miss you and want to spar with you. I have improved lots. Robb needs you too. He always sits at his desk looking serious and old. He never has fun like Theon and Ramsay Snow. These two are always together. I do not like either of them. They pester Robb as well as me. I once kicked Ramsay's shin but lucky for him, Theon pulled the bastard away from me before I could hurt him some more.
  
  Come visit soon Jon. I want to see if Ghost is as big as Nymeria. I'm sure they would like each other as much as we do.
  
  Arya of House Stark
  
  Your most loyal friend and adopted sister
  
  To the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell
  
  My Lord Hand,
  
  On your behest, Yohn Royce sent me to the Twins to put things in order. I was glad to be allowed to support my family since my brother is ailing and my Nephew Edmure is somewhat 'indecisive'.
  
  Lord Walder of House Frey at first objected to pay the overdue taxes to his Lord Paramount. According to him income at the Twins has been more than cut in half since hardly any travellers have crossed the Green Fork at the Twins over the last six moons. He suspects many travellers are making the journey by ship these days.
  
  A few words on my end however persuaded him to pay House Tully our due and made him promise faithfully to do so on time of his own accord in future.
  
  Your faithful servant,
  
  Ser Brynden of House Tully
  
  The Blackfish
  
  To Willas of House Tyrell, heir to the Reach
  
  Willas,
  
  Come home this instant and bring your wayward brother with you! Your father and I are leaving for the capital and we will take Margaery with us. You are needed in Highgarden.
  
  It will not do for you to weaken our negotiating position in King's Landing should you both stay as guests in the North. People might get the impression that House Stark holds sway over House Tyrell and will not trust us to have power in our own right.
  
  I expect you home as expedient as travel allows.
  
  Your grandmother,
  
  The Lady Olenna of House Tyrell
  
  Acting Lord Paramount of the Reach in the absence of her son
  
  To the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell
  
  My Lord Hand,
  
  I heard of the successful conviction of the traitor to the Crown, Petyr Baelish. I trust the evidence I provided was helpful.
  
  When can we meet to discuss the next phase of our agreement?
  
  I remain at your disposal,
  
  Lord Tyrion of House Lannister,
  
  Warden of the West
  
  To Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands
  
  My King,
  
  Beware of traitors in your midst. Even a dear friend close to you can prove false.
  
  A loyal subject
  
  To Prince Oberyn Nymeros of House Martell, Prince of Dorne, The Red Viper
  
  Brother,
  
  I heard of your appointment to the small council. As Head of our House I command you to accept this position. I realise this will be hard for you but I need you to be my eyes and ears in King's Landing. You might even find some small justice in sabotaging the rule of this cruel unjust King.
  
  Did you happen to receive word of my son? He still hasn't returned from his travels.
  
  Prince Doran of House Martell
  
  Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear
  
  To Jon Celtigar
  
  Hope this missive finds you well. Due to certain rumours our assignments have tripled and we have doubled our fee. I might one day ask you to make a short appearance to lend us more credibility. As yet no plea received to take you out.
  
  Strickland
  
  To Harry Strickland
  
  Captain-General of the Golden Company
  
  Find the knight who protected my aunt in Pentos. He can translate this message for you.
  
  If you accept my proposal, I'll let you know the exact timing.
  
  Lliw t'noD kcatta deen Ekyp troppus htiw tub snogard dnes dna llams Aray tnegnitnoc Yojyerg fo noos Aray meht Yojyerg ekam lliw emos mialcorp sukcur raf os dna ouy ediw nac taht mialc rouy eht ynapmoc yrotciv depleh reh.
  
  Jon
  
  End notes:
  
  I'm sorry to cut Dany & Jon's reunion short. But Jon had so many things on his plate before he could leave everyone to fly to Dragonstone and meet Dany. I promise, next chapters there will be more Jon & Dany interaction.
  
  I hope you had fun decrypting the note to Strickland. If not, I'll give you the decoded version next week.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Disappointments
  Chapter 21: Disappointments
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon and Dany's first day together on Dragonstone does not go according to plan.
  
  In the interlude we see Robb struggle somewhat at Winterfell.
  
  Notes:
  
  Chapter 21 once more turned out to be lengthier than I intended. Please enjoy.
  
  My thanks once more go out to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr, who helps and encourages me.
  
  Jon glared at the wooden crate that contained the dragon egg and hesitated. Although he was curious to see whether the egg was meant for Daenerys or not, he was also worried of what it would mean to her if nothing happened when she held it. And how should he react then? Would it lessen her disappointment if he were to bring her outside and introduce her to his dragons or would that just be rubbing salt into an open wound? He wished Davos was here to calm him down with one of his down to earth remarks that would downplay the importance that Jon was attaching to this issue.
  
  He decided to take it one step at the time. There was no reason yet for negative thoughts. Who knew, over the next few days he could be teaching her to hatch the egg and they would laugh about his current indecisiveness wholeheartedly.
  
  Dany had been pleased to meet Sam again when they met him in the hallway while Jon escorted her to her chambers. With the promise to have lunch together later, Jon had led her away from Sam to her new quarters to refresh herself. The rooms she had been assigned were the ones where her mother, the Queen at the time, had stayed the few times she had visited Dragonstone. The servants had shown the Princess' rooms to Jon the day before and he had complimented them sincerely. Although the windows were narrow and didn't allow for much sunlight to enter the space when he had visited them late in the day, the predominant light coloured furs on the bed and the chairs, combined with the tasteful decorations and tapestries that lined the walls lent the room a warm and cosy atmosphere.
  
  They had all enjoyed a nice lunch together. Everyone had done his share to make the Princess feel welcome. After lunch Sam had been the first one to excuse himself and had left the table. Dany had taken that opportunity to rise as well and had gone back to her room to unpack some of her personal items. Jon had promised to pay her a visit a bit later.
  
  And now he stood here before her door, gathering the courage to knock. Ser Oswell was close behind him and carried the small crate with the black egg. Jon started to think nobody had heard him knock and was about to try again when the door opened and he was greeted with a delighted smile. Daenerys had answered the door herself and stepped aside to let Jon enter with Ser Oswell following his Prince. Daenerys' Septa made a formal curtsy to Jon and left the room.
  
  Jon's eyes widened when he took in Daenerys' appearance. She had changed into a less formal gown and seeing the innocent, youthful picture she provided in it made the notion that she was technically his aunt rather ridiculous. Because his eyes were trained on her, he immediately noticed the change in her expression when her eyes wandered to the crate Ser Oswell had just put on a small table with a soft thump. Jon made a furtive hand gesture and Ser Oswell left the room closing the door swiftly behind him.
  
  He approached the table and opened the box with care fixing his gaze on the beautiful black egg. It was a deliberate choice to prevent him from reacting to the nervousness that had appeared in her eyes the moment she recognised the box he had described to her in one of his first letters all those years ago. Even though he kept his eyes on the egg, he still was very much aware of her hesitant approach. He encouraged her with a short nod of his head and focussed on her small hands that carefully took out the shiny black egg. She cradled it in her arms and held it reverently against her bosom. His eyes that had followed the egg now shifted upwards to study the expression on her face with barely contained tension. Dany's eyes were closed in concentration.
  
  Jon waited with bated breath and saw a small teardrop appear below one of her closed eyelids. The transparent pearl slowly made its way across her cheek, soon to be followed by a second larger one. He didn't know whether these were signs of a positive emotion or whether they expressed her extreme disappointment. When she started to tremble, he reached out and carefully took the egg from her shaking arms before she dropped it and put the precious object back inside the box. The very moment he closed the lid, she fell apart in his arms. Immediately grasping the fact that she was heartbroken, he closed his arms around her and softly rocked her slim body that clung to his, desperate for comfort.
  
  "Shhh, it is all right. If nothing happened that is because it was not destined to be. We have two dragons anyway. Maester Aemon warned me that there was a distinct possibility that the egg was not viable. He considered it a miracle that two out of three were able to produce healthy dragons after all those years." He had difficulty finishing his last sentence. A lump had formed in his throat.
  
  "Perhaps the egg is still viable but it is destined for future generations?" Daenerys had stopped sobbing and lifted her head to look at Jon, her purple eyes brimming with unshed tears.
  
  "Perhaps," Jon replied, thinking of the vows he had made as head of their house. He would not be able to share the content of them with her now. He would be forced to carry this burden, this responsibility alone, just as his great-great-uncle had been obliged to do for so long. He hid his own regret and disappointment. Reaching into his pocket, he offered her a soft piece of cloth he had brought along just in case his fears would prove true. She accepted it and used it to wipe her tears. She dropped her arms and ended the hug. He saw her walk over to a small mirror to check if she was somewhat presentable again. He didn't care. Even with red eyes and puffy cheeks wet with tears she looked lovely.
  
  "Would you like to say hello to Rhaegal and Viserion? The outside air will do you good and I promised them they would get to meet you." Jon attempted to distract her in the only way he could think of. She turned around to face him again, her expression revealing interest and curiosity and he was relieved that it had been the right move.
  
  "I always wondered about that." She said slowly, the reverence apparent in her tone of voice. "Your letters sometimes mention dialogues you have with them in your mind. I have never heard of something like that. The chapter on dragonlore in the book containing the history of House Targaryen mentions nothing of the sort. It only lists a few short commands in High Valyrian the dragonriders of old used. Like 'soves' or 'dracarys'."
  
  "We can hear one another's thoughts when we share our minds. If I concentrate, I can send images to them and they reply the same way." He answered feeling a bit self-conscious. "Maester Aemon figured it is the warging ability of my Stark side that is somehow enhanced by the magic of my Targaryen blood that makes this possible. House Stark has the blood of the First Men and the Kings of Winter. The magic in the blood of my mother's family might possibly be older than the magic of Valyria. Only it has been mostly dormant in recent generations. I suppose I am the first one ever to be born this way. I am sorry that it isn't the same for you, Dany."
  
  "Sorry? Aegon, we should celebrate!" she countered, her eyes still looked a little red when they met his. "If you have read the sparse writings on raising dragons you know how difficult it was for our ancestors to control the predatory instincts of their dragons. You have the perfect relationship with them. You can prevent the tragedies that happened back then."
  
  "I know. I am fortunate. I just feel some injustice that I, who am only half Targaryen, somehow am the chosen one at the expense of you." He was relieved though with her acceptance of the nature of his relationship with the dragons. He sensed that she was coming to terms with her disappointment to a certain degree already.
  
  "House Targaryen is fortunate to have you, Aegon. You strengthen our blood and bring new power to our house. Without you those three eggs would be nothing more than beautiful ornaments to grace our quarters. I probably scared you with my tearful reaction but ever since I heard about the eggs in your first letter, expectations have been building. Give me a bit of time to digest this. Focusing on all the positive aspects and seeing our house thrive again will soon have me back to my charming self." She opened the door of her room and with a watery smile at Ser Oswell she motioned him to follow her. Jon didn't hesitate and hastened after her. He looked forward to introducing her to the dragons.
  
  Together they walked out over the green cliffs of Dragonstone. Jon ignored Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan that followed them at a discreet distance. The view from up here was captivating. Dragonstone was a volcanic island. Thousands of years of waves crushing against the rocks had resulted in irregular slopes and worn away flanks with random carvings rising up from the sea. They admired how the sunlight played with the eroded lines up until the point where the shoreline curved away to the west. The ships that lay anchored in the bay filled him with pride. Out there was his fleet. Sometimes it all still felt unreal. He tore his gaze away from the large fleet that only grew more impressive by the day and turned his head to look at Daenerys when she started to speak.
  
  "The servants that helped me unpack my belongings told me about the speech you gave yesterday. That must have been something else. I'm sorry I missed it. You've been here hardly a day and already everyone worships you like some long lost hero that has finally come home." She had stopped to better hear his answer. The wind blew from all directions out here on the cliffs.
  
  "That was an overwhelming experience for me as well. I had hardly touched down on Dragonstone, and gotten a chance to freshen up a bit before I was ushered to the Great Hall where everyone wanted to see me literally take my place on the throne of the Princes of Dragonstone for the very first time. I only half remember what I told them. I don't think it would have mattered much either way. I gather I could have counted to one hundred and they still would have cheered me on."
  
  "That is not what I heard, Aegon. You will need to learn not to be so irritatingly modest all the time and to accept compliments with grace if they are sincere. I asked them what they still recalled from your speech and from the fragments they repeated to me, I could gather that it was an eloquent discourse spreading an inspiring message."
  
  Jon was silent for a few moments not really sure how to respond to her praise. Then he cocked his head and looked up. "The dragons are on their way. Better step away for a moment. I will greet them first and then I promise to introduce you."
  
  Jon was glad to have this excuse to change the topic. Somehow it still felt like he was steeling her limelight. He knew it was not a rational thought. His mind acknowledged that he was worthy, trueborn and first in the line of the succession but the feeling was there anyway. This was her home, she had been born here. He was the half Targaryen and of a later generation. He didn't even look the part. She had the classic Valyrian features of silver white hair, a very fair, pale skin and exquisite purple eyes. She was also his Aunt. That last thought always filled him with unease. He shrugged his shoulders and loosened his muscles as if to shake these uneasy thoughts off by the physical gesture. Any moment now his dragons would come into view.
  
  "You just felt that? Oh, there they are." Dany had missed his inner turmoil her eyes had been trained on the sky. She stood back while Rhaegal and Viserion landed close to her kin. She witnessed him rubbing their scales next to extremely large, sharp looking teeth. And as if that wasn't impressive enough, Aegon put his forehead against Rhaegal's cheeks and closed his eyes. She noticed a small movement and then both dragons were eying her curiously. Moments later Aegon opened his eyes and gestured her to come closer.
  
  He stood right next to her and took her small hand in his to guide it gently along the scales of the silver white dragon's cheek. He saw the pulse in her neck and knew her heart was beating wildly. "Viserion is pleased to meet you." He translated the dragon's thoughts to try to get her to calm down a bit. The dragon lifted his head to the left so his eye could study her more closely. That movement caused her hand to slip from his scales and put an end to their joint petting. Jon immediately released her hand.
  
  "I am pleased to meet him as well." She responded the awe evident in her voice. "They are magnificent up close, Aegon, even more so than I could ever have imagined, even after seeing them up in the air when I arrived."
  
  "Come, Rhaegal wants to say hello too." Jon guided her to the other dragon so they ended up right in the middle of the two enormous beasts. "Their scales are not hurting your skin, are they? Are you impervious to their warmth as well?" He was not really worried. He remembered that she had written to him that she didn't suffer burns when she touched the flames of a candle.
  
  "No their warmth feels nice enough."
  
  He was happy that she was confident enough now to pet Rhaegal without him guiding her hand.
  
  "If that is the case, then you could join me on Rhaegal. No one else can. They all get severe burns. The scales on his back run even hotter." Jon warned.
  
  "I would love that. Do you think Viserion would let me ride him?" She ventured.
  
  "I don't see how that would work. I would have to stay near you to guide him. Viserion follows me and either copies his brother's moves or listens to my thoughts. When we fly we kind of open our minds to each other so we all know what the two other think and feel."
  
  He turned to look at her and took both hands in his to soften the message. "They are not like horses, Dany. They are not just a means of transportation nor are they pets. They are my partners and in the air we are equals. I have executed plans they've come up with just as well as they have executed mine. We share a bond as close as... I was going to say siblings but it is even more intense, more intimate than that."
  
  She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking about what Jon had told her. Eventually she tried once more."But Viserion,"
  
  "Not even I ride Viserion." He paused searching frantically for the right words to make her understand what nobody had been able to grasp yet. "My bond with Rhaegal goes much deeper than what I share with Viserion. Rhaegal and I, we not only read each other's minds, we can share them completely. We kind of merge our minds. I never command him, neither of them. Everything we do is consensual and we feel it the very moment one of us has an issue, is overextending himself or is hurt. We look out for each other. I am sorry. It is difficult to put into words. It is everything that I just described but also much, much more. When I ride Rhaegal there is no him or me, there is just us, almost as if we have one mind, one thought."
  
  He absently stroked Rhaegal. The dragon nudged him slightly, making him bump unceremoniously into Daenerys. He embraced her to prevent her from falling against Viserion.
  
  "Umpf! Are they always that playful?" She remarked. They were entrapped between the two dragons that each formed one half of the circle that kept them confined.
  
  "It has happened once or twice." He could sense her regret as he released her. Jon shared a long look with the green dragon and the circle opened. The dragons took a few steps and leapt over the cliff to soar through the sky. "Come let us seat ourselves on that ledge over there. I want to talk to you for a bit."
  
  "Isn't that somewhat dangerous?" She asked, eying the steep cliff with apprehension.
  
  "Isn't talking to women always dangerous?" he teased, wilfully misunderstanding her. His dark eyes were looking at her, but his expression was more guarded than before. "I won't let you fall. Trust me. We will have a beautiful view from up there and we can watch the dragons dance around each other in the air. At the same time you can admire our royal fleet. Come on." He encouraged her to take his hand and guided her to the spot he had indicated. Ser Oswell had disappeared and Ser Barristan sat on a rock where he could keep them in his sight and at the same time be far enough away from the couple to give them some semblance of privacy.
  
  Once seated with their legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, she looked sideways at him. "You wanted to talk to me? What about?"
  
  Jon hesitated and searched for the right words, glad that Daenerys waited patiently until he began to speak. "When I read what had happened with Prince Quentyn and Khal Drogo I realised you had not been treated fairly. For a man seventeen namedays is young to be married. For a noble woman however, it is not. Many ladies your age have already birthed more than one child. I only hope you do not hold it against me that I didn't think of that before." He kept his tone neutral.
  
  "I don't hold it against you, Aegon. I have not lived the life of an average noble lady. My goal has never been to marry young and have children immediately. My goal has always been to return to Westeros, to my home. All other wishes I had were secondary to that. That is until I met you and it looked like my dreams would all come true."
  
  An awkward pause ensued. Jon grew uncomfortable. He avoided her gaze that he still felt upon him and made a point of staring at the playful antics of his dragons up in the sky before him.
  
  "It is not as if I am an old spinster who will never have a chance to marry. I have turned down many offers in Pentos." She offered unable to take the silence that lingered between them any longer.
  
  When the meaning of her words sank in, he finally turned his head her way and met her gaze. "You did?" When Daenerys faked an insulted look he stammered. "Not uh, not that I do not believe that. A man would have to be blind to pass you over. It is just, uh, I only heard of the two suitors I named just now. What have you been hiding from me?" His voice had a bit of an edge when he asked that question.
  
  "Well I didn't think you would have been impressed by most of my suitors. Or are you interested in a long list of Essosi merchants and a shorter one of impoverished, exiled nobles from Westeros who asked for a betrothal? There was the offer from House Tyrell almost two moons ago though." She ended quietly.
  
  "House Tyrell?" He held her eyes prisoner with a compelling look. "I distinctly recall reading your very tardy last letter that mentioned nothing, absolutely nothing. I never received a more disappointing missive than that one. You could as well have signed your name under an empty scroll. And now you tell me about a potential political disaster in the making by ignoring the request of a ruling house?" He made sure Daenerys couldn't miss the disappointment and bitterness in his voice.
  
  "I am sorry. I was afraid you would react like this." Daenerys looked up at him, frowning at the expression of dismay on his face.
  
  Although he felt slightly guilty seeing her pull back a little bit he didn't give an inch. "React like what exactly? I haven't reacted yet since I haven't heard their exact proposal yet. Why didn't you tell me about this, Dany?" The accusation in his tone made her lower her head a bit.
  
  "Because I was frightened you would jump at the opportunity to get rid of me, all right." She bit back. "Scared to death that you would use me as just another cyvasse piece you offered up to your opponent to gain you the alliance of a Kingdom to further your cause in one stroke of a quill. I truly feared that I was just another burden, another responsibility for you." She abruptly turned her head away from him.
  
  He guessed that she had done that so he wouldn't notice the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes for a second time that day. He decided not to let her know that he had already caught a glimpse of the small teardrop dangling from her left eye and changed tactics. He spoke in a more gentle tone. "Didn't we have this conversation already? You will never be a burden to me, Dany. You are my only Targaryen kin now that uncle Aemon is no longer with us. I am only concerned that by not offering them a reply, by not even making the effort of sending them a kindly formulated refusal or even an alternative to their offer, we will have endangered the possible alliance we have so painstakingly been building with the Reach for such a long time now. I have written to you of all our manoeuvring with Loras Tyrell, the betrothal proposals from Lord Stark, the hints Varys and Nymeria Sand have been giving them. Robb is entertaining the Tyrell heir and his brother as we speak. Not to mention the seventeen years that my Stark family has been trying to gain their favour in every way possible."
  
  "I do not think the delay will endanger all these efforts that are so important to you, Aegon," she replied slightly offended that he thought her stupid enough to endanger his tentative relations with the Reach. "Lady Olenna explained in her letter how she learned from Prince Quentyn's failure and has given me an open offer stating and I quote 'that the ball is in my court'. Besides she only wants to align herself with me because she thinks the dragon that has been rumoured to fly over the Narrow Sea is mine. I couldn't in good faith entertain her proposal without telling her about you."
  
  He saw her regain somewhat of her confidence when her purple eyes found the courage to look straight at him again. "I fully accept that you are the head of our house and I would not have replied to her without your consent. I just wasn't happy to discuss this with you in writing and figured it wouldn't be long before we saw each other anyway." She defended her actions her voice firm once more.
  
  Jon considered her reasoning for a time. When he was sure he was calm enough and had found the right words he spoke gently. "Dany, will you let me read that letter? I promise you I will not decide your fate before talking it over with you first. I will never give you to a man you have an extreme aversion to. I want you to be happy. But we must both be realistic. There is a big chance that one or both of us will have to marry to ensure the peaceful annexation of a kingdom. I cannot ask my Stark cousins to adhere to my wishes in that regard if we are not prepared to do the same. Political marriages can turn out to be very happy ones if both partners are entering the relationship with an open mind."
  
  He sighed when he saw she once more avoided his gaze and made an attempt to lessen the impact of his unwelcome message. "There are many options to bring the Reach into the fold. Robb would not be averse to getting to know Lady Margaery Tyrell. She is an acclaimed beauty. Willas Tyrell is an option Lord Stark is considering for Sansa if for some reason Robb can't marry Lady Margaery. We just need to send some sort of reply to Lady Olenna. I wished Davos were here. He might have some platitude up his sleeve that would make both of us feel better."
  
  "What are the betrothals you are considering for yourself then, Aegon?" She was wondering how far along his political plans actually were.
  
  "None yet. I have the advantage that no one outside of our own circle really knows about my existence and future position. It is best it stays that way a bit longer. Lady Olenna will not be satisfied with catching Robb Stark if she hears about me. I happen to know that Lady Catelyn, I mean Aunt Catelyn at one time considered me almost an acceptable suitor for her most excellent daughter Sansa, even before Prince Joffrey's disgrace."
  
  This time his teasing tone felt flat. Her question had reawakened the familiar guilt each time he considered a betrothal for one of his Stark cousins and left all options open for himself. He should have anticipated her next question, but he hadn't considered she would dare to be so direct. As a consequence he was taken by surprise.
  
  "Hasn't it crossed your mind that we could marry? It would be a good solution to avoid the demands of the Lady Olenna's of the realm. Or perhaps you want to keep the prized lady Margaery for yourself?" She looked straight at him not hiding her disappointment and at the same time challenging him to reveal what he really felt.
  
  "Dany, I" He was taken aback by the fierceness she portrayed in her entire demeanour.
  
  "No don't answer that. I think you know my wishes. You would be blind and deaf not to." She put her hand on his mouth to prevent him from speaking. "Please, you have said your piece. It is my turn now. You can at least do me the courtesy of hearing me out." She released his mouth when he nodded.
  
  "I will perform my duty to my house. I will always be loyal to you and support you in any way I can. Even if you do not consider yourself a sovereign yet, to me you already are my King. I only hope that you will choose with some consideration for my wellbeing when you order me to marry someone. But please know that I would be content to simply live here and become an adviser to you. I do not need a husband and children as such. Perhaps you could allow me the opportunity to prove myself? I have been told I am a fast learner. I am confident that given time I will be knowledgeable enough to fill an official position on your council. I already read all I could find about the houses of Westeros, of their alliances, strengths and weaknesses. Being new to politics could bring a fresh perspective, new ideas to your council. Or are you one of these men that believe a woman is only capable of producing the next generation?" These last words came out a lot bitterer than she had originally intended.
  
  Jon forgot his resolution to stay calm and rational at all cost. His nerves had been tested by everything that had happened these last few days and he exploded. "That is a low blow! You know I don't think like that, Dany. I have written you repeatedly about all the reforms I want to instigate once I have the power to do so. I, contrary to you, did put real information in my letters. I revealed my dreams and ideas, my thoughts and struggles. You should know me better than that by now!" Jon stood up. He needed to get some distance from her so he could control his rising temper. It would not do to have a serious quarrel on her first day here.
  
  Dany however had risen as well and taken a few steps away from the ledge. Since she was significantly smaller than him, she needed to look up to him. She didn't back down though her voice as loud as his when she countered. "And you think you are fair? I wrote frequently but at some point I had said all I could about me and I did not lead such an eventful life, thank you very much. What should I have written? 'Hi Aegon, I went to the market and bought some peaches, again, just like the previous sennight, only there was more choice and the ones I picked this time turned out to be juicier.'
  
  That is what was happening in my life. While you were fighting Ironborn and were looking for magical ice monsters, I strolled around the market once a sennight and the rest of my days I sat by the window until I had to eat or go to sleep. The only excitement I had in my life over there was when someone visited and asked to marry me."
  
  "And when that happened you concealed it from me." He refuted sharply but not a loud as before. "Let us stop this discussion right here. I do not want to fight with you on our first day together in our ancestral home.
  
  "Well then you failed miserably, my Prince, because we just did." She turned around and started to walk with big steps toward the castle.
  
  "Dany!" He called after her. "Dany don't leave yet. Let's at least broker a truce before you run off."
  
  "Too late, another failure, my Prince!" She shouted over the wind looking over her shoulders to see him rooted to the exact spot where she had left him. Not watching were she was going she bumped into something she could have sworn wasn't there before and was catapulted back. Nothing hurt but her pride as she sat up. Still in a daze she stared uncomprehendingly at a green blurry mass in front of her.
  
  "Rhaegal, what were you thinking?" Jon appeared next to her and admonished his dragon. He had not believed his eyes when Dany, not looking where she was going, had run straight into Rhaegal's flank. It was rather obvious that the dragon had wanted to help his rider by forcing his wayward female kin to obey him. "Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" He scanned her small figure that just sat there staring at Rhaegal's large belly.
  
  "Only my pride." She ventured sheepishly when she finally got her bearings.
  
  "I'm sorry." They both said simultaneously. The dragon puffed. Jon put his forehead against Rhaegal again and stayed there a long time. He realised Dany would be wondering what they were telling each other but he needed to have this lengthy conversation with Rhaegal to avoid him from intervening in a similar fashion ever again. It took some time before the green dragon joined his brother in the sky and Jon sat down next to her.
  
  "We are making a mess of things, aren't we?" He tried to get her to look at him but she didn't move a muscle. He released a deep breath and made another effort. "Give me time to think on all we spoke about this afternoon. I am sure somehow we will come up with a workable compromise. We will find a way to make things work. We both like each other. That is more than some family members do. Let's take two steps back and start over. Okay?"
  
  Dany hesitated but eventually nodded. She kept her eyes on the dragons up in the sky the entire time. They lapsed into silence again. After what seemed like ages to Jon, Dany finally turned her head his way and looked cautiously at him.
  
  "I will go inside now. I shall fetch that letter from Lady Tyrell and put it on the desk in your quarters. Then I will take an early supper and retire. I am somewhat tired. I only arrived this morning and then the rollercoaster with the egg had me off balance. I may not have been as diplomatic as I should."
  
  Jon looked worried at first then guilty and was about to apologize once more when she reassured him. "I will be fine Aegon. You are right. We each have a lot to think about. What do you say about meeting each other again tomorrow after lunch on these cliffs if the weather permits it?"
  
  "Thank you, Dany." He tentatively brushed the curve of her cheek with his thumb for a short moment before pulling back. "Perhaps, we can also use the opportunity to take a short flight, together on Rhaegal's back?" He looked hesitant now. He would give everything to be able to turn back time and have the afternoon start over again or to somehow erase her memories of their quarrel. Where had it started to go wrong? Had he caused their fight or had she? He would analyse their argument later. For now his worried eyes were waiting for a response to his suggestion.
  
  "Tomorrow afternoon then." She confirmed. "Let us hope Rhaegal will still like me enough to allow me on his back."
  
  Jon was relieved beyond measure to hear her slightly teasing tone. "Don't worry. It was me he was scolding just then." Jon confessed and turned red. He cursed his inability to control the colour of his own cheeks and feared he had ruined the initial impression he knew he had made on her back on the beach the first moments she arrived on Dragonstone that morning. She would no longer think of him as a strong leader but see him for the green young boy he sometimes still was.
  
  He wished he had more knowledge on how to deal with women. He had mostly grown up between men. His foster grandmother only raised him for a few years and even then he had spent most of his waking hours with the three knights. He promised himself he would stop by for another short visit at the Driftmark before he was needed again at the Wall.
  
  "I will see you tomorrow then, Aegon." She interrupted his musing and he watched her turn and walk away from him. This time she was able to reach the castle without bumping into wilful dragons.
  
  Ser Barristan hesitated but then decided to follow the Princess.
  
  Princess Daenerys was halfway up the stair leading to the entrance of the castle when she stopped to look at Aegon still standing at the exact same spot. She guessed he had his eyes closed and shrugged her shoulders. He was probably having a long conversation with his dragons. Daenerys perhaps wasn't able to talk with them like he could but she understood some of their body language just fine. The green dragon had hardly met her and already he was playing matchmaker. The dragon could maybe fool his rider but not her.
  
  Jon stayed out on the cliff a while longer. He established a bond with his dragons to clear his mind. It didn't work right away. He clearly felt their disapproval. In their eyes it was simple, male and female mate and make little dragonriders. How did you start explaining to a dragon the concept of incest and the risk of madness through inbreeding? How did you explain the necessity for political marriages? How did he explain that he needed to concentrate on the war against the dead and the claiming of his rightful throne first? He had tried but they had rejected each image he put into their minds. He couldn't shrug off their unwavering belief that it was simple and that their human was needlessly complicating a simple matter. He caught himself hoping they were the ones who had it right.
  
  He severed the connection disappointed that he didn't achieve the relaxed state of mind his dragons normally could give him. He needed Davos to help him make sense of it all. Davos could surely prevent him from making an even greater mess of things than he already had. Or perhaps Uncle Benjen would be the one the make him feel better. His uncle had a way of simplifying matters, sifting through the bullshit and attacking the problem at its very core. But he just had his three Kingsguards here and Ser Barristan was probably on Daenerys' side. The only thing he could come up with right now was to switch off his feelings and approach this problem with a rational mind.
  
  He saw Ser Gerold approach. Ser Barristan had probably asked him to look after his Prince. But then he recalled that he had asked his Kingsguards for a strategy meeting later this afternoon. Yesterday they had only talked about the situation at the Wall. They still needed to exchange the latest news they had gathered about the other territories. Perhaps ravens with more news had arrived today as well. He also hadn't found the right time to talk to Sam yet. Yesterday evening he had almost fallen asleep over his plate and had retired earlier than initially planned. So much to do, so much effort put in already and it felt as if he was making hardly any progress.
  
  Ser Gerold greeted him with a nod and together they walked back to the castle in silence. When he entered the meeting room, Maester Pylos who served at Dragonstone was there to hand over the newly arrived messages addressed to the Prince of Dragonstone. Jon was still a bit wary of the man although he had served Stannis Baratheon only for a few moons. His predecessor, Maester Cressen that had been with Stannis Baratheon for years had broken his hip, fallen ill and had died a few moons before Stannis left for Storm's End. The young assistant-Maester Pylos who had helped Maester Cressen during his illness was named the official Maester on Dragonstone by the Citadel upon receiving Prince Stannis' request for a new Maester. Although the learned man reminded Jon that a Maester always served a keep not the house that currently resided there, Jon was not yet ready to share their secret strategies with the unfamiliar Maester. There was too much at stake.
  
  Therefore he thanked the man when he accepted the scrolls and politely dismissed him.
  
  Sam entered the room the same time the Maester left it. Jon smiled at the symbolism. "Thank you for joining us Sam, will you ask Ser Oswell who is probably guarding the door to fetch Ser Barristan and then have them both join the meeting?"
  
  Moments later the five of them were installed around the large table that had a map of Westeros carved on it. When his ancestors did something, they certainly didn't hold back. He had admired the carvings in detail with Daenerys earlier and aside from a few small errors in scale he could not find much to criticise.
  
  They each had taken a scroll and read the contents to speed up matters. Jon was reading the message Ser Barristan had handed him with a knowing look in his eyes. Lady Olenna had indeed given the Targaryen Princess the initiative to do with the missive whatever she saw fit. He swallowed and put the scroll to the side. When he looked around he saw that everyone was looking at him to open proceedings. He scraped his throat. "Let's go by geographical order. That should be easy with this amazing map before us. We already discussed the Wall. The North is not an issue, the Riverlands then."
  
  "You already told us how Prince Oberyn solved that issue. Is there other news from that front?" Ser Gerold asked.
  
  "Actually I just read a missive from Varys. King Robert proposes to withdraw the right of House Frey to charge a fee for travellers passing through the Twins. With the help of your uncle Ned he has been able to stall him for now." Sam was quick to interrupt.
  
  "That shows once more that the King is attempting to govern his realm and is not bad at it when he makes the effort. This is not a good development, Aegon." Ser Gerold shook his head.
  
  "We discussed this yesterday, Ser Gerold. Sam and I will write a diplomatic letter to my uncle through Varys. We must trust Varys and Uncle Ned to handle things in the capital for now. So we can conclude that the situation in the Riverlands is peaceful for now and the Tullys are on our side. What about the Ironborn? Did you receive anything more recent? The last intelligence I received was a report from Yara Greyjoy that her uncle was meeting some resistance from pirates while attacking the Stepstones. I am glad our warning to the Reach was taken seriously and the region was smart enough to make all their defenses and reinforcements very visible. Euron Greyjoy has proven himself a coward when he sailed right past in search for weaker targets."
  
  "The scroll I just read is from Yara Greyjoy." Ser Oswell entered the conversation for the first time. "She writes that her uncle has suffered some losses and is contemplating moving up the coast. There are rumours a red priestess has asked him to parlay with Stannis Baratheon but knowing his contempt for other religions, his niece is betting that he will sail the other way, perhaps towards the Arbor? However, this information is not the main reason she sent you this message today. She asks for your assistance when she attacks Pyke."
  
  "When she attacks, not if?" Jon asked taken aback by the brazenness of the woman.
  
  "Yara Greyjoy claims a lot of the Ironborn are dismayed by Euron Greyjoy's practices. More in particular they abhor how he is quick to have his subjects' tongues cut out to turn them into mutes at the first word of criticism or at what he perceives as disrespect. Many have joined her ranks. She boasts entire crews with ships have shifted their alliance. Her fleet has grown substantially. And even though she has acquired additional ships by other means, she has more men than her vessels can carry and asks if you can loan her a few. She also requests the help of your dragons when she attacks. She estimates that with help from the sky, Pyke will surrender in less than half a day. You could fly in and out of there on the same day. She is willing to adapt the timing of her attack to your availability."
  
  "How nice of her." Ser Gerold sneered.
  
  "Jon, such action will be certain to garner King Robert's attention." Sam cautioned. "Sure enough it would weaken Euron Greyjoy even more and the Iron Islands would be your ally but is it worth the risk?"
  
  Jon showed no hesitance when he replied in a determined fashion. "Write back to her and tell her that she has proven a faithful ally these last few moons. Add that I am willing to offer her five ships right away. Send word to Seagard that Yara Greyjoy may take possession of five crewless vessels for now. They have trouble finding enough crew to man the new ships there anyway. Make sure these are not our newest ships though. Explain to her that I am in the middle of planning my campaign but that I am certainly willing to support her attack on Pyke if she puts in writing all the promises she has made regarding the more civilised rules that the Ironborn under her command will adhere to. She will also add to this document that she swears not to attack any shores on the entire continent of Westeros as long as she is the ruler of Pyke. In turn, upon receipt of this complete, unequivocal and officially signed document, I promise to help her attack Pyke and send timing proposals for a joint attack."
  
  Ser Gerold nodded. "A wise tactic, my Prince. You save valuable time and once she has control of Pyke, Euron Greyjoy will have difficulty upholding his authority. The Ironborn will all flock to her like sheep."
  
  "We will need to advise Lord Manderly of this decision as admiral of the royal fleet." Jon added as an afterthought. "Sam, will you remind me of that later?"
  
  "I second Sam's worry about a hostile reaction from King's Landing." Ser Barristan fixed Jon with apprehension.
  
  Jon met his stare realising full well that the man still felt uneasy to address his Prince after witnessing his altercation with Princess Daenerys. He managed a weak smile before turning his head towards his friend again. "Sam, inform Yara Greyjoy that we need to keep the rumours of a dragonrider under wraps and will spread the story that she enlisted the help of the Golden Company and their dragon to defeat the usurper who murdered her father and took Pyke away from Balon Greyjoy's heirs. We will want the assistance of every Ironborn on her side to corroborate our story. Another condition we place on helping her." Jon turned to Ser Barristan. "We will also send a message to warn Varys and ask his assistance to discredit all unwanted rumours before King Robert can get wind of them.
  
  Sam nodded not lifting his eyes that were trained on his writings. He was scribbling down as much as he could of what was said.
  
  "Then I think it is time that you told us what happened at the Vale. Your message was quite succinct. 'Stalemate resolved, Vale neutral or on our side'. I think all three of us would like to hear a bit more about that." Ser Gerold moved on to the next Kingdom on the map.
  
  Jon proceeded to tell them how it had simply been a matter of separating young Lord Robin Arryn from his mother and how everything fell into place after that. He also explained to them that encouraged by Howland Reed's detailed visions, he had revealed his origins to Yohn Royce who in response had promised him at least neutrality. The man was in King's Landing now and had hinted that a talk with Eddard Stark whom he trusted unconditionally might persuade him to declare for the side that Eddard Stark chose in the coming conflict.
  
  "Does anyone have any doubts that this will not go our way?" Ser Oswell looked gleeful. "You and your dragons are a force to be reckoned with, my Prince. Little Robin Arryn is on your side and Lord Stark need only say two sentences and you can count on the might of the knights of the Vale to have your back.
  
  "Eddard Stark had better not mess this up. Gods know how much trouble he has caused us with his all too honourable influence on Robert Baratheon." Ser Gerold couldn't resist voice his frustration once more.
  
  "We already agreed to table that subject and let Varys and Uncle Ned handle it, Ser Gerold." Jon patiently reminded his Lord Commander again.
  
  "What news from the Stormlands?" Ser Oswell tried to steer the discussion away from the source of discontent.
  
  "Howland Reed informed me personally that he has retained the services of two new allies, Ser Beric of House Dondarrion and the red Priest Thoros of Myr. Lord Reed is concerned about the information they volunteered. Strange things are happening in the Stormlands. Allegedly Prince Stannis Baratheon has become a religious fanatic who burns people alive in the name of the Lord of Light. What is troublesome is that some sort of magic from a red priestess blocks Reed from having visions about the things happening in that region. All we have to go on is the information these two men brought personally to Greywater Watch. Lord Reed hopes to hear from them soon. The situation worries him greatly." Jon sighed. Talking about the red priestess brought back the uneasy reminder of the Lord of Light and prophesies about a Prince Who Was Promised.
  
  "According to Varys, the King has gotten wind of this and has asked Lord Stark to send a royal emissary to Storm's End to investigate matters." Sam told them pointing to the scroll he had read.
  
  "Perhaps things will settle down in the Stormlands now that Stannis Baratheon is officially proclaimed Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and recognised as next in the succession for the Iron Throne?" Ser Oswell suggested.
  
  "We will not know for sure until Varys' birds, uncle Ned or Lord Dondarrion and his priest send us more information. Let's move on shall we? Dorne is next." Jon moved the meeting needing a distraction to keep his mind from dwelling on troublesome prophesies.
  
  "I talked to Prince Oberyn when he arrived at Castle Black. He is frustrated as hell with his brother. The man still finds excuses for his son's abysmal behaviour. He doesn't think it will be easy to bring Prince Doran around to our side. He has been playing with the notion of deposing his brother but only as a last resort. He has talked to Ser Arthur about the possibility of getting the more important bannermen of Dorne to support us if need be. His brother would lose a bit of face but not his position as ruler of the Kingdom. Prince Oberyn doesn't want to be encumbered by the burden of ruling a Kingdom. He prefers his freedom. He is a born adventurer." Jon almost verbally repeated the Prince's words.
  
  "A resourceful adventurer, I am glad he is on our side." Ser Barristan remarked.
  
  "Did I already mention how he gloated about ridding Winterfell of Roose Bolton?" Jon looked amused now.
  
  "You did not. How in Seven Hells did he accomplish that?" Ser Oswell voiced what they all wondered.
  
  "He told him the Ironborn were disappointed by their failed attack on the Stony Shores and were blaming House Bolton for not doing its share to weaken the position of House Stark and destabilizing the region. Having heard from Robb Stark that Domeric Bolton was in hiding, Prince Oberyn made Roose Bolton believe that the Ironborn held his precious heir a prisoner and threatened to skin him alive in true Bolton fashion if the Lord did not show his arse in person soon to negotiate a truce. Allegedly negotiations between the Ironborn and his half-brother are stuck and they are losing patience. Oberyn hinted that it would be child play for the Ironborn to apprehend Ramsay Snow when he went on one of his disreputable outings and that having his two sons in enemy hands would make Roose Bolton's negotiating position even weaker."
  
  "Roose Bolton didn't wonder how Prince Oberyn could possibly know any of this?" Ser Gerold asked his eyes big as saucers.
  
  "I have no further details, only that Roose Bolton and his small retinue were gone at first light the next morning. The Prince gleefully told me Robb's attitude towards him warmed up considerably after that." Jon finished his tale.
  
  "Well, let us leave the matter of Dorne in the scheming hands of the Red Viper. He has proven he is more than willing to help us, or perhaps help Prince Aegon would be a better way of phrasing it. If I didn't know of his relationship with his paramour, I would think he had a crush on you, my Prince." Ser Gerold apparently had chosen to believe in their good luck and was eager to move the meeting along.
  
  "That reminds me." Jon looked deep in thought. "I promised the Prince to send word to Dorne to ask Ellaria Sand to be in King's Landing by the time he is expected to arrive there by ship."
  
  "That is not an urgent message. We can send it out one of the next few days and she will still have plenty of time to organise her travels, it will take the Prince somewhere between thirty to forty days to sail from Eastwatch all the way to King's Landing. Davos could be more precise." Sam remarked.
  
  Jon sighed. "It will take Davos as long to reach Dragonstone. I really miss his advice. No offence." He added quickly looking at all four who were present and doing their utmost to help him.
  
  "No offence taken, we understand, my Prince. Davos Seaworth has a unique way of putting things in perspective." Ser Oswell reassured Jon. "I miss his wise advice as well."
  
  "That leaves the Reach?" Sam was the one now to get the meeting back on track.
  
  "Yes, they are still on the fence. We will need a strategy to keep Lady Olenna's ambitions in check. She will reject Robb in favour of King Robert or perhaps in favour of me." Jon added self-consciously.
  
  "With Loras and Willas in the North, she will have to play nice to Lord Stark. Can't we use that as leverage? I think the way to go is to use the little birds of Varys and keep spreading rumours. Perhaps a rumour of how King Robert is no longer capable of siring children due to a hunting accident. Or that he has caught a sexual disease? Create just enough suspicion to make Lady Olenna uncertain and stall a bit. In the meantime Lord Stark and other allies can once more sing the praises of the young handsome, virile, capable and most honourable heir to the Northern Kingdom, Lord Robb of House Stark. If Lady Margaery visits the capital with her grandmother who I am told is already on her way there, Lord Stark can get to know Lady Margaery and find out whether she would suit his son?"
  
  Perhaps we can approach her most important bannerman and military commander, Lord Tarly to sound out the allegiances of her other bannermen?" Ser Oswell proposed.
  
  "Do not mention me if you do that. It might ruin all chances to get him on your side." Sam's bitter retort startled the men. "I'm almost sure my father won't help you unless you are willing to give him something substantial in return. I believe only the offer of the position of Lord Paramount of the Reach would be enough of an inducement for that heartless, calculating man to help you.
  
  "Don't worry Sam, this plan is still a hypothetical one, we are just discussing all options." Jon reassured his friend.
  
  "Ah, brainstorming!" Sam's voice showed relief. "That means I have still a chance to change your minds."
  
  "We are racking our brains for sure. Not certain if there is a storm though." Jon smiled.
  
  "Perhaps we should leave it at that and discuss the one area that is left, the Rock?" Ser Barristan offered.
  
  "Lord Tyrion should have arrived by now. He had to travel very far overland. I do not foresee trouble on that front. We have him cornered. He owes us much already and we are the only ones who are still willing to offer him more. King Robert will think twice before granting the Lannisters a position of power ever again. We can offer him that plus a normal future for his niece and nephew." Jon pointed out.
  
  "If we are all in agreement, can we agree that we are finished for now? I must admit I am starting to have trouble focusing. We are juggling on so many things at once." Ser Barristan sighed pressing a hand to his forehead.
  
  "Well there is this little trick I learned from..." Jon started but his slight teasing tone betrayed him.
  
  "Do not start about that ridiculous notion about dividing your brain in tiny boxes." Ser Oswell stopped him with a fake exasperated look.
  
  "All right, I won't," Jon laughed at the familiar banter. It was not the first time he used it to relax everyone.
  
  "I think the cook will be waiting on supper. Have we covered everything?" Sam tried to close the meeting officially.
  
  "Most of it, there are still the domestic matters though. I wanted a status report on the new staff, your take on the quality and trustworthiness of the Maester, the houseguards, how you plan to arrange the protection of Princess Daenerys, how the village is handling the increasing demands for food and shelter, what to do about Ser Jorah Mormont.." Jon didn't get to finish his list.
  
  "Stop right there and let us agree to resume this meeting tomorrow afternoon." Ser Gerold knew he needed to gather some information on some of these issues before he had a relevant reply for his Prince.
  
  "Why not take the entire day tomorrow to prepare for this meeting and visit the village. I happen to have other plans for the afternoon. You see, I plan to take Daenerys flying." Jon inadvertently gave his Lord Commander the necessary respite. He got a bit embarrassed when he saw the knights exchange significant looks. He looked over to his friend in an effort to ignore them.
  
  "Sam, do you have time after supper for me? We can draft some of these messages together and I am still waiting for an opportunity to catch up with my friend."
  
  "Of course, Jon. Perhaps we could take supper in your quarters. There are several urgent scrolls to send out and formulating them right will take time."
  
  "My Prince, if I may ask," Ser Barristan remarked formally. "I wondered if you forgot to mention something yesterday when you told us of everyone's movements. Did I hear correctly that you did not mention your Uncle Benjen Stark?"
  
  "That's correct. I did not mention that he will travel back to Winterfell soon to deal with family matters. It doesn't have an impact on our cause so I didn't think it important. My uncle will join our cause once more when the matters he needs to attend to have been handled." He nodded at Ser Barristan and moved to the door sending the clear signal that he would not elaborate further.
  
  "Time to find something to eat. Sam, are you coming?" Jon asked when he had reached the doorway.
  
  "Right behind you." Sam said and quickly gathering the scrolls from the table to join Jon who waited for him to leave the room together.
  
  Sam had been right. Drafting the messages had taken up a lot of time. They would have taken even longer if Sam had not already made concise drafts of some of them during the meeting. When they finally finished the most important ones it was already dark outside. Jon lit a few more candles. "Come Sam let's leave it at that for now. Come sit with me by the fire. The chairs there are much cosier."
  
  Sam was glad to leave the hard wooden chair. His hand had started to cramp as well. He must have broken a record today. Ever since Jon had arrived it felt like he had not stopped scribbling one thing or another. He stretched the fingers of his right hand one by one and slowly got up from the table. "Shall I bring the pitcher of wine and some glasses?"
  
  "That is an excellent idea Sam, please do." Jon waited patiently until Sam had filled their two glasses and installed himself in the soft chair. "How have you been, Sam, truthfully?"
  
  "I've been all right. Perhaps a bit lonely but I had the books to comfort me, if that is what you're asking, Aegon?"
  
  "I can't get used to being called, Aegon, especially by you. To you I have always been Jon. I feel like Jon. Doesn't if feel strange to you to use my Targaryen name?"
  
  "Not really. See I address you, the person sitting in front of me, my friend, one that I really like, admire and respect. Whether you are called Jon, Aegon, Aero, Zuzor or any other name you can come up with, I am still talking to this nice guy with dark curly hair. I think the problem is that you see Jon and Aegon as two different persons. They are not, Jon. They are one and the same."
  
  "How did you become so smart, Sam? Now that you explain it that way I think I understand the problem. I think of myself as Jon, a guy who has been fortunate to have a lot of friends and support. I admit he is not a normal guy since he has a direwolf and rides a dragon. People seem to listen to him and respect him most of the time. Jon is also a guy who has a cause he believes in. But he is not Aegon. In my mind Aegon is this mystical King everyone kneels before and is larger than life. Aegon is the one who has to live up to the expectations of his ancestors and is under a lot of pressure." Jon looked at Sam to check if his friend understood what he meant.
  
  "Still I maintain, there is only one person that is sitting before me. This one person is indeed the one who has a lot of friends, dragons, and a direwolf but he also has a big destiny to live up to because of who his ancestors were." Sam looked at Jon willing him to believe what he was about to say.
  
  "In my opinion, as much as you think you have embraced your heritage, you still haven't done so completely. And all the aspects of your parentage that you are okay with, you connect to fortunate Jon and all the things you are afraid you will not be able to accomplish you attach to poor King Aegon Sixth of his Name." Sam paused a moment because he had forgotten to breathe being focussed too much on convincing his friend. After taking a few deep breaths he was ready to give his advice.
  
  "Forget the name bit and think about your goal. As far as I can see, you were magnificent as Aegon, the Prince of Dragonstone the moment you set foot on this island and I assure you, not a single soul thinks you come up short. I have written down that speech you gave, so thousands of years from now, people will still be able to read about that brilliant young man of only seventeen namedays that was cornered into giving a speech without being prepared for it and came up with the right thing to say on the spur of the moment. I will add the entire context when I write the book. "
  
  Seeing Jon's raised eyebrow he continued his attempt to boost Jon's confidence up to a kingly level.
  
  "Then I see before me this intelligent young man that just led a meeting as complicated as meetings will ever get in the Seven Kingdoms. A youth that kept his cool, came up with creative ideas and holds his own in a group of men with twice, almost three times as many namedays as him. You said you missed Davos Seaworth, but I think even he couldn't have handled that meeting any better than you did. Just think back to the resolve with which you handled Yara Greyjoy's demand and the sheer tactics of your solution. Davos would be proud of you. Hells, we are all proud of you."
  
  "Stop it, Sam. I am not that perfect guy you make me out to be. I make mistakes, just as everyone else. The trouble is that my mistakes might have bigger consequences. I have messed up at Castle Black. I have messed up with Princess Daenerys. How can I ever become this perfect King Aegon?" Jon sighed in exasperation and raked his hand over his face.
  
  "No King is perfect, Aegon. You do your best and learn from your mistakes. You ask for help when you need it. No King has ever ruled alone. No King has ever ruled without making errors in judgement either. If you do not believe me, you should read the book again about your much praised ancestor King Jaehaerys I. Although he was a wise King he made a few lapses in judgement as well. Nobody is perfect, Aegon." Sam tried his best to reason with his friend.
  
  "I certainly must be learning a lot then judging by the number of mistakes I make. And even though the incident at Castle Black in the end will prove to be a minor one, I still learned from it that I need to work harder not to let my feelings control my temper."
  
  "What happened at Castle Black, Jon? Do you want to tell me?" Sam reverted to the familiar appellation appealing to his friend now and not to his future sovereign.
  
  "Short version: Blinded by my disgust for the man I almost revealed too much to Jaime Lannister. But that is a story for another time. Perhaps when your hand isn't cramping?"
  
  Sam blinked, taken aback.
  
  "I am not blind, Sam. I noticed. I am sure you will want your hand in good working order when I tell you what drove a young Kingsguard to stab the King he had vowed to protect in the back." Jon revealed a bit of the contents and relished to see the shock on Sam's face increase.
  
  "He told you?" Was all Sam got out.
  
  "He did." Jon resolved to save the story for another time. He needed to tackle another subjects with Sam tonight.
  
  "Then I will hold you to that. Promise me not to leave Dragonstone before you do though. These days you are always flying off to somewhere. I am sure Davos is frustrated as hell. His last missive was rather eloquent." Sam pleaded.
  
  "I'll try not to. But I wanted to talk about you tonight. You make it rather difficult for a man to do that, you know? You are always full of questions and wise advice. Now it is my turn. What are your plans, Sam? And with that I mean what would you really want to do? Set aside all the things we have ever spoken about or wishes I might have uttered. Just here and now, just between us two good friends, knowing what you know now and having experienced all you have these last few moons, what would Samwell Tarly want to do? What do you want to accomplish in your life? What are your most fervent ambitions?"
  
  "You do not want me to go to the Citadel and become a Maester any longer?" Sam looked out of his depth now.
  
  "That was not the question, Sam. Do YOU want to go to the Citadel to become a Maester?" Jon tried once more.
  
  "I might, uh I think so, but perhaps not, uh perhaps not right away? I know you say I should do what I want and not think about you but that is impossible. You see, what I want most to do for myself is to help you. Like how I helped you by searching for dragonglass or of thinking of ways with Gendry to make it stronger. How we write all these letters together. I thrive on how you seem to welcome my advice. With you I feel I can make a difference. If you change the course of history, I'd like to think that may I played a little part in that. You listen to me an make it feel as if I have a purpose, as if I am perhaps uh somehow uh important as well?"
  
  Sam looked at Jon a devoted expression in his eyes. When Jon stayed silent waiting for Sam to be more concrete he added talking quickly, "I am certain that leaving now for the Citadel is not the best way to help you. The coming moons you will need all the help you can get. You do see the historical importance of what we are about to do, don't you? These are important times. I can always go the Citadel later." Checking Jon's reaction and seeing his friend was hanging onto every word he found the courage to elaborate even further.
  
  "The only thing that is making me doubt is that in not going I will miss out on a few resources, books I mean, that contain knowledge that can probably only be found in the Citadel. But when I think of going there now, I hesitate. First of all a novice will not have access to the more advanced topics that I will want to research. Second, if I leave now for the Citadel, you will not see me for moons on end. I know a Maester's training is rather restrictive, certainly at first. I used to talk a lot to the Maester at Horn Hill about this when I was younger. He told me his first ten moons as a novice were an utter waste of his time and energy. It got slightly better after he forged his first link and became an acolyte but even then it only got significantly better after he had forged almost half of his links."
  
  Suddenly aware he had been conducting a rather long monologue he apologized. "I'm sorry. I have been rambling, haven't I. Did you find the answer to your question somewhere in there?"
  
  "I did, Sam. You still want to become a Maester but prefer not to leave me before things are settled at the Wall and in the Seven Kingdoms. I appreciate that you want to stay by my side and I love you for it. I also understand we need to find a way to give you access to the Citadel's library one way or another and perhaps even find a means, some loophole that permits you to forge your first links almost immediately when you do leave for the Citadel. If you study up on a few of the simpler specialties, with your extraordinary memory, you should pass their tests with flying colours. If you wait till I am this famous King Aegon Sixth of his Name, perhaps I can use my royal influence to speed up the date of your tests." Jon's voice got more enthusiastic as possible solutions popped up in his mind.
  
  "I didn't tell you all this to get royal privileges, Jon." Sam had gotten nervous when he heard the lengths his friend was willing to go to, to help him.
  
  "I know you didn't, Sam. That doesn't mean I cannot reward loyalty of my own free will. Besides, I am going to instigate some revolutionary reforms. Perhaps I can influence the Archmaesters at the Citadel to change some of their old ways as well? If I give them enough hints and incentives - there must be something they need, or something we can help them with - they will perhaps modernise their educational system a bit?" A thought struck him. "Have the books here at Dragonstone provided you with new information? I recall Gendry mentioning the idea of performing some tests with dragonfire? Will you need Gendry here for the practical side of your research?"
  
  "Ideally, yes. But I have given him a list of fake words to replace real ones so we can write each other about ideas and hopefully also about the progress we make. I reckoned a version of the code you use is too complicated. Gendry only recently learned to write."
  
  "Fake words, now you are making me curious. Tell me?" Jon was always a stickler for puzzles and riddles.
  
  "For example we use the word soup instead of fire and when Gendry writes 'the soup needs to be colder' well I should perhaps mention the adjectives are antonyms." Sam explained.
  
  "Antonyms, Sam?"
  
  "Opposites. Colder means hotter, you see. That way we can write each other and no one who reads our message will figure out that we are trying to unravel the secret of Valyrian Steel, or want to make dragonglass weapons stronger than ever before."
  
  "And what are your theories, Sam?
  
  "I have several. Your words are 'Fire and Blood'. I think that might have something to do with it. Dragonfire burns hotter, that is a given. Blood, uh well perhaps steel was mixed with blood of a dragon or of a person who is called a dragon, uh a Targaryen, like you? Or perhaps and I sincerely hope that this is the case, they mean dragonglass which when melted also looks a bit like thick dark blood. As soon as Gendry has finished forging most of the weapons from the dragonglass, we will start with simple tests to see if uh ordinary steel and dragonglass can be mixed together when melted down. Gendry wanted to try with a small amount of dragonglass, you see, nine parts steel for one part of dragonglass. If these materials don't mix well when heated with uh ordinary fire, I mean..."
  
  "You will want to try with dragonfire? I am curious to see if your ideas might work. I hope you won't need dragonblood from Rhaegal nor Viserion and certainly not my blood." Jon voiced his concerns. "I am curious though. What are your code words for dragonglass and regular steel?"
  
  Uh, dragonglass are vegetables and the steel is the meat."
  
  "So the cold soup needs more meat and fewer vegetables would be a message you might send to Gendry? Sam, have I already told you that you are a genius today?" Jon never ceased to be amazed by the creative ideas Sam sometimes cooked up.
  
  "Uh, perhaps?" Sam stammered.
  
  "You will need to work on your delivery. You are so smart, yet you speak so hesitatingly. You do not have to become as arrogant as Prince Oberyn but you could put a bit more confidence in your speech, in your tone of voice. It will help persuade the Archmaesters at the Citadel that you know what you are about." Jon advised.
  
  "I realise I need to work on that, Jon. But uh, you see, I am who I am, and building confidence takes time. My father made sure to kill every bit of confidence I was born with." Sam defended himself.
  
  "Then we will cultivate it. Do not underestimate your worth, Sam. Not only do you have an exceptional memory, you have a logical way of thinking and can come up with solutions long before any of us have made all the connections needed to get there. Our accidental meeting must have been orchestrated by the Gods. Fortunate happenstances like these help me believe that the Gods approve and we are doing the right thing. They prevent me from feeling guilty for going through with my ambition of claiming the throne."
  
  He studied his friend a while before addressing a concern he had ever since he had noticed Sam recording his words. "Now I have one last question for you, Sam. Every time I lay my eyes on you here on Dragonstone, you have been scribbling like... well like nothing I can think to compare it with. I have never seen anyone write so fast nor so frequently. What are you planning to do with all these notes?"
  
  "Well I thought to write the history of the reign of King Aegon VI. And like every tale, people want to know where their hero came from. Your story does not start the day of your coronation. It started more than seventeen years ago. It will be a riveting story starting with the tragic love affair of your parents. I have been working on it for a long time already. It will be a uh masterpiece if I say so myself. Anyway, if you are willing, I will be asking a lot of questions over the next few years." Sam was quick to take advantage of Jon's willingness to discuss this topic.
  
  "Will I have a say in its content? Like erase some idiotic things I said about Robb Stark or other stuff." Jon kept his tone light but he needed the question answered.
  
  "Not if it distorts the truth too much. We are not writing a fairy tale that tells only the good things. It should be an accurate account of your reign, a history book. Minor details of your personal life here and there are allowed to be, uh, forgotten, shall we say?" Sam watched for Jon's reaction closely.
  
  "Well glad to hear that you will not be reporting the stupid fight I had with Dany this afternoon." Jon responded with a wry smile.
  
  "Do you want to tell me about it? I promise not to write it down. Oh, Jon, please do not think I will write down what you tell me in confidence. I will not. The book will only tell facts of your reign. I see now why you wanted to have a say in the content. I am sorry, I didn't understand and made light of it. I am so sorry, Jon, uh my Prince, uh..."
  
  "Relax Sam. Let us make a pact here and now. You write your book the way you think it should be written. Of course you will respect my privacy when not relevant to the main story of my reign. You promise me on your honour that you will keep everything you write confidential, keep it under lock and key. I will be the first one to read it and we will discuss the paragraphs I am not comfortable with. Nobody will see or know about this book or its content until I give permission to release it." Jon told him with an authority that left no room for interpretation.
  
  "You promise you will discuss uh different opinions with an open mind and not just say I have to adhere to your wishes because you are the King?" Sam shifted a bit in his seat.
  
  "I'll try, Sam. I promise I'll try. But it is my life you are writing about. My life laid out for everyone to read. Just imagine someone wrote the story of your life, starting with the struggle with your father. Imagine the author wrote it from the perspective of your father, colouring events so you looked ridiculous. Would you not want to have a means to change the content slightly before the entire word was allowed to read a version of your life that makes you want to avoid every single person who read it because you are ashamed of how they will look at you now?"
  
  "I am sorry, Jon. I see now I have been overstepping big time. I obviously got carried away thinking I could become this famous historian whose book people would still be reading thousands of years after I died because your story is so captivating that I forgot it is not my story to tell. It is yours. I am so sorry."
  
  "It is okay, Sam, really. We will find a safe place where we can hide your manuscript and we will discuss the content at length before a single word gets out to the realm. I am sure we will find a balance somehow and produce a version of my history that we both find acceptable. I promise you that I will not ask another man, or woman for that matter, to write my story. If a book about my life is published with my accreditation, it will be written by Samwell Tarly a reliable source since he lived his entire life in close proximity to the King he wrote about truthfully and without embellishment." Jon was coming around to the fact that someone would write his history. There were books on every King that had ever ruled. Perhaps letting Sam write the tale of his reign was his best option. Still, they would have to find a balance.
  
  "And I promise to stay neutral and not let myself get carried away so I do not blow things out of proportion to make the book more captivating." Sam promised.
  
  "Now do you want to tell your friend, and not the famous historian what happened between you and Princess Daenerys this afternoon? Will you tell me why you feel like you've made a mistake?"
  
  "Now who is thinking of himself as two different persons? Sam, the friend or Sam, the historian?"
  
  "Jon, that is entirely different and you know it. I just meant you need not fear that I will write down what you tell me of this personal struggle. You are only prolonging the inevitable. If you do not want to tell me, just say so." Sam tried once more to get his friend to talk about his issue with Princess Daenerys that was clearly weighing him down.
  
  "I am still not clear myself what really happened. Just picture it, one minute we are talking in a friendly manner, the next I am scolding her for not telling me about the politically important offer that the Tyrells have presented to her more than two moons ago. Next she asks me to my face why I do not consider marrying her and to top it all off she accuses me, ME of all people of not giving women chances to do something with their lives other than bearing children for husbands that are forced upon them!"
  
  "Calm down, Jon. You are shouting. Now let's break this down. The Tyrells made her an offer. I gather you mean an offer for a betrothal. Did she reply to them without consulting you?"
  
  "No, she didn't. She said it was an open offer and that the ball was in her court." Jon admitted.
  
  "So no political harm done?" Sam glanced over at Jon to better understand his reaction.
  
  "I didn't know that when I uttered my first accusations." Jon defended himself a bit deflated.
  
  "All right, did she tell you why she concealed it from you?" Sam dug a bit deeper.
  
  "She was afraid I would jump on the opportunity to forge an alliance with the Reach and would marry her off without a single consideration for her wellbeing." Jon's defiant attitude had no effect on Sam. His friend stayed calm when he replied.
  
  "Well as head of House Targaryen you have the authority to marry her off without her consent but she should know you better than that. Keep in mind we are dealing with a woman in love. I heard they don't always think rational when a suitor is involved. Tell me, what did you reply when she spoke of a marriage between the two of you?" Sam gave Jon a look that that warned him denying the fact that Daenerys had a tendre for him was useless.
  
  "I explained to her that we had to be realistic and that the situation was such that it was not out of the question that one of us or even both of us would have to marry for political reasons. But that nothing had been decided yet and it could still all work out. I promised her that I would always consider her well-being and that I would talk to her before a final agreement was made on her behalf."
  
  "That is a sensible reply. I still do not see how that could lead to her accusations? Anyone who spends a few days with you knows you would never treat women unfairly, let alone your own female kin."
  
  "She asked for a future position on the small council and before I could even react she got all defensive and asked whether I was a man who though women were just incubators. I might have overreacted a bit." Jon acknowledged.
  
  "You think?" Sam arched one eyebrow.
  
  "Well my nerves were on edge what with the scare about possibly insulted Tyrells and her coming on to me so strong as to ask me straight out to marry me. I was no longer calm when she accused me of discriminating against women. Not to mention I have been under a lot of stress lately. Give me a break, Sam?" Jon pleaded.
  
  "It is not me that should give you a break. You are feeling guilty all by yourself. I am just taking you through the different phases of your conversation to help you figure out where it went wrong." Sam stayed calm. "I am the first to admit that I am not an expert when it comes to men and women trying to uh, trying to... communicate together. I can only analyse your conversation. And if it will help you, I can tell you that in my honest opinion, I mean, in as far as I can tell by this one sided account, she overreacted as well."
  
  "Thank you. I know I behaved like a moron. I am glad I am not the only one who believes she was a bit of one herself. But that knowledge doesn't help me decide how to go forward from here." He muttered miserably. "
  
  "It will, Jon, you just have to decide what you want to happen first. Now tell me, how did you part? Will she still speak to you when she passes you in the hallway and will you still be able to share a meal together? Knowing something of your disposition and diplomatic skills, you must at least have tried to get her to understand your point of view."
  
  "That is a funny story actually. But to skip right to the end, I did manage to broker a truce. Eventually we both agreed to take a step back and think about all that was said. We agreed to meet again tomorrow afternoon. I promised to take her with me on Rhaegal's back for a short ride." Jon calmed down a bit when images of flying high up in the air with Dany sitting close to him on Rhaegal's back flitted through his mind. He forced himself to focus his attention back on Sam when his friend coughed discreetly.
  
  "Just to be clear, you do not want to marry her?" Sam didn't hesitate to go straight to the heart of the matter. The dreamy expression on Jon's face had only confirmed what he had been suspecting all along.
  
  "I can't marry her." Again Jon got agitated and the way he spoke these words was very revealing.
  
  "Would you marry her if you could?" Sam tried to goad him into voicing his wishes out loud.
  
  "It doesn't matter either way, Sam. I can't." This time it was Jon who fidgeted nervously in his chair.
  
  Sam knew he was finally reaching the core of the problem. "Because of politics? Let me play the imagine game you played with me before. Imagine you are this benevolent King Aegon the Sixth of his Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, the Dragonrider, friend of the Free Folk and so on, and so on. The realm is peaceful, everyone is happy. You are still unmarried, she is still single. Would you marry her?"
  
  "I do not know." Jon confessed after a long pause.
  
  Sam looked baffled when he saw Jon's hunched shoulders. "Don't you love her?" He tried once more to understand what was holding his friend back.
  
  "She is my aunt." Jon's matter of fact reply gave Sam his first clue.
  
  "Do you love her as more than an aunt?" Wrestling information from Jon about this topic required all his patience and skills.
  
  "What if I do? She is my kin. My grandfather who happens to be her father was raving mad. I can't risk bringing children into the realm that could potentially destroy this better world we are creating. Not to mention the dilemma of a parent who cares for a child that is a danger to society."
  
  "Would you marry her if you knew beforehand that your children would be healthy?" Sam was relentless.
  
  "Sam, you are killing me here." Jon looked like a petulant child now.
  
  "Would you like some advice or not?" Sam's reply was simple, his bait irresistible.
  
  "Do you have some?" Jon looked up now, hesitant to get his hopes up.
  
  "I think I do, yes." His friend's earnest eyes convinced Jon to hear him out.
  
  "Then I'd love to hear your advice, Sam, anything to help me make sense of these painful feelings. I can't begin to describe how confused I am about this whole business." Jon sat up straighter.
  
  "Well, where do I start? In my humble opinion and to repeat some of your own advice I heard you give others, you should be as truthful as possible with her. You explain to her calm and rationally why you are not free to marry her yet even if you love her. Which you do not have to admit to me if you do," he added hastily.
  
  "Hypothetically speaking, if you really love her and you somehow manage with the help of your genius adviser sitting right here before you and perhaps with some help of other advisers as well, to successfully complete all of your goals, and you both still happen to be single, then you can talk with her about a possible marriage between you to again. In the meantime, you ask that famed greenseer of yours that so clearly saw how to resolve the situation at the Vale if he can try to look into your future. Chances are that the magic in your Stark blood is strong enough to give you several beautiful healthy children. Once that obstacle is out of the way, well I will leave you to think of the last steps yourself." Sam managed to look a little smug.
  
  Jon considered these words. A fragment of his dream with the three children playing with the black egg crossed his mind. There had been two silverhaired ones, clearly resembling Daenerys or someone else with Valyrian features and one with black curly hair. He had hoped it was a greendream when he woke up with the happy feeling from his dream still lingering in his mind.
  
  He paled when he remembered his uncle Aemon's explanation about the greendreams he could invoke himself under certain circumstances to look at the future of House Targaryen. He startled when a hand touched his arm.
  
  "Jon! Jon, come back to me. Oh, there you are again. You turned pale and your eyes glazed over. I was getting worried. What happened?"
  
  "I just remembered a dream I had. Sam, your words, they gave me hope and new ideas I have to study some more. Thanks. You are wise beyond your years. I hope to have you at my side, always. Together we will frustrate our enemies to no end."
  
  "You have done much for me as well, Jon, from the very first moment we met when you were simple Jon Celtigar." His tone was slightly teasing but pale earnest eyes look into Jon's. "I am glad I can do something for you in return for once."
  
  "You have already paid me back twice over, Sam. I am very lucky to count you as my friend. If ever you need a favour from me. Do not hesitate. Just ask." Jon promised.
  
  "Well, as a matter of fact," Sam started though his cheeky smile reassured his friend he was just asking for a minor thing, "I am really tired and would want to retire now. Perhaps his Grace would give me permission..."
  
  "Go to bed, Sam," Jon interrupted. "I will make sure we will find plenty of time to see each other over the coming days. Oh before you leave, I hope you realise that you have officially been named a member of my small council and I expect you to be present at every meeting when you are able?"
  
  "With or without Daenerys present?" Sam couldn't help but tease his friend. He had gotten up and was walking to the door.
  
  Jon chuckled and answered in the same teasing manner. "Depends on how well-mannered she is tomorrow afternoon." He was pleased to see Sam's smile widen into a grin before his friend shut the door behind him.
  
  Interlude21: A trap
  
  Robb was tired, tired of juggling the responsibilities of being Lord of Winterfell, tired of keeping the peace between his siblings, tired of fighting with them over the issue of the direwolves mingling with their guests, tired of entertaining said guests and his friend Edric, tired of living up to the strict moral standards of his mother which was difficult at the best of times but Nymeria Sand was pushing his resolve to his very limits.
  
  It didn't help that even though he performed his mental exercises with Greywind almost every day, he had not been able to develop their bond much beyond wolf dreams and sensing his direwolf's feelings when he touched him. And now other guests had arrived and it had become clear that Bran, not Robb was a prodigy, a powerful warg in the making and was singled out by Lord Reed. Suddenly Bran was the focal point of everyone's attention and nobody minded the fact that Robb was working hard to keep everything running smoothly at Winterfell, in the entire North and was keeping even more guests happy.
  
  Granted Lord Reed had stayed only for a few days and had been a quiet unobtrusive guest that had offered him some decent advice at times. The man had left after a short stay, taking his brother Bran with him. He also had to admit that Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell were a godsend, providing support any way they could. Edric had become a good friend but was more a distraction than a helping hand.
  
  Entertaining Prince Oberyn had been a challenge. The Dornish Prince had a knack for stirring up trouble. He had started off by insulting the Lady Brienne, humiliated Edric Dayne, Theon Greyjoy and even Robb himself by knocking them to the ground with his long spear before they could get two strikes in and instead of helping them, the Prince had made fun of them and called them sluggish. When they protested blaming the element of surprise and their lack of experience in fighting an opponent wielding a longspear, Prince Oberyn had not hesitated with his answer.
  
  "On the battlefield," he had stated adopting a serious mien for a change, "if an opponent comes at you with a weapon you are not familiar with, you don't get the chance to complain that it isn't fair since they did not teach you the right techniques yet to counter him. You would be dead before you uttered your first syllable."
  
  Nobody could object to this wise piece of advice but the Prince's arrogant smirk hadn't helped their dented pride. Then the vexing man had taunted them even further by stating that twelve year old Jon Celtigar had shown more promise at his tender age than they did now as grownups. "That boy defeated me recently, the first one to do so in a long time." He had added fuel to the fire.
  
  The only good thing Prince Oberyn's visit had brought about was the sudden departure of Roose Bolton. Robb wasn't sure what had happened exactly between the two men. One evening he had seen them drinking together. The next morning, Roose Bolton had left before dawn leaving only a note with some vague excuse of being needed at the Dreadfort. Immensely relieved to be rid of Lord Bolton's spine-chilling stare, Robb had made an effort to tolerate Prince Oberyn and his high maintenance daughter. He had found an unexpected ally in his little sister, Arya. Somehow she had charmed Prince Oberyn into giving her some lessons and for some unfathomable reason the Dornish Prince had taken a liking to her. Well the man had raised or was still raising seven or eight spirited daughters. Perhaps Arya's fighting spirit was the norm in his household.
  
  Often his youngest sister could be seen dancing around the courtyard with a long spear to perfect the moves Prince Oberyn had taught her during morning sparring sessions. Robb had seen Arya cross spears with Nymeria Sand. But what had really amazed him was that an incredibly patient Prince Oberyn stood at the side-lines and behaved himself well and long enough to encourage his youngest sister and teach her several new tricks.
  
  One time he had caught the two of them deep in conversation and had stayed out of sight but still within hearing range. Robb had been amused by Prince Oberyn's attempts to answer a barrage of questions from Arya. His sister had not relented before the Prince had told her exactly when, where and how Jon Celtigar had defeated him recently. The Prince had literally squirmed and had needed to use all his ingenuity to allay the suspicions of his twelve year old sister without revealing that Jon sometimes flew on a dragon across the Seven Kingdom to explain his whereabouts. When she heard he was headed for the Wall where he would most certainly meet Jon Celtigar again she had asked him to give her greetings to Jon and all his friends and not to forget a single one.
  
  Almost a moon after Prince Oberyn and his daughter left Winterfell to visit the Wall
  
  Robb heard Sansa call for Lady beneath the window of the solar. This incited Robb to ponder the problem of the budding romance between his friend Edric Dayne and his sister Sansa. These last few days both of them had wandered around Winterfell with gloomy faces and hardly spoke to anybody, not even each other. A few sennights after Robb's advice to write to Jon, Edric had closed up and no longer confided in Robb. His friend was even preparing to leave. Sansa had been more forthcoming. She had told Robb her mother had taken away all their hopes and the powerful friend Edric had expected support from in some way or other had not taken the trouble to send a response to Edric's plea.
  
  "It is hopeless," she had told her brother in the black and white way of a young girl. "Mother has given instructions to have me chaperoned every instant of the day. Not that is matters since Lord Edric avoids my company anyway. Only fourteen namedays old and my life is basically over. I will marry some awful stranger and will be unhappy for the rest of my life."
  
  When Robb had tried to argue that mother didn't decide these things and that father was a very reasonable person and loved her very much, she countered by saying that her mother had been adamant. Father would most likely marry her off to the son of a lord Paramount. He had already received several offers and was just biding his time. Although no names had been mentioned, she guessed the most likely candidates were Lord Willas of House Tyrell and Lord Robin of House Arryn. Robb had not been able to contradict this without checking this with his father first and had just offered some weak statement that as long as no betrothal had been arranged, not all was lost.
  
  And now on this bright and sunny day when his siblings were all outside, he sat at his father's desk, in his father's solar handling problems his father would be able to deal with ten times as fast as he could. Maester Luwin had a fever and Robb needed to handle the petitions of the Lords of the North on his own or with the help of his mother which he preferred not to ask for since her views were not always tempered by reason. Too often her judgement was limited to things being very right or extremely wrong. His mother clearly had trouble with the word compromise. He sighed. He was on his own. Even Greywind was off somewhere enjoying himself outdoors with his siblings. At times like these, he envied Jon. His cousin had plenty of advisers to turn to, not to mention that Jon could literally fly to King's Landing if he needed to talk to Robb's father or guide a message safely there himself if he was to believe what his cousin wrote about warging into birds. Perhaps he should ask for the dragonrider's assistance?
  
  He ignored that farfetched idea for the time being and reviewed the issues in front of him. The Greatjon complained of Wildling raids, Lady Mormont asked to reduce her taxes in exchange for taking care of Cersei Lannister and Lord Glover argued that the price they received for their lumber was too low. Then there was the issue with Ramsay Snow. Apparently the solution his father had tried had not been decisive enough. The visit of his bannermen to the Dreadfort had not produced any results. Neither Roose, nor Domeric Bolton nor Ramsay Snow had been present to receive them. His father's bannermen had written to Winterfell suggesting Robb talk to Roose Bolton himself since the man had not yet left after the royal visit. Robb sighed again. As if he hadn't already tried that a few times. Each time Lord Bolton had toyed with him and had expertly avoided the subject.
  
  He looked with dismay at the most recent missive from Domeric Bolton. The young Lord would not disclose his location since he was currently hiding from his father and more importantly from his bastard brother. He mentioned he had survived several attempts on his life and was one hundred per cent sure it was his closest kin that was plotting to get rid of him. He also accused his half-brother of staging attacks on the most Northern settlements with a small group, posing as Wildlings while committing atrocities. With his father in King's Landing, the only action Robb could come up with for now was to send his suspicions to Lord Umber who was in charge of the area and to Jeor Mormont at the Wall. He planned to write an extensive letter to his father to ask for advice on several issues. Even if he would not trouble him with the long list of smaller unresolved problems that the smallfolk and the servants brought to his attention, it would be a long missive that should be sent by trusted messenger instead of by raven. The issue of the Boltons on the other hand, he would send to the Red Keep using their fastest raven.
  
  He was about to summon a servant to enquire after the health of Maester Luwin when a loud knock interrupted his musings. He prayed to the Gods that whoever stood at the door of the solar would not be the bearer of yet another annoying problem.
  
  It was Theon Greyjoy who entered and tried to guilt trip Robb into spending an evening with him. Theon did not accept Robb's excuse of being tired and argued Robb had neglected him these last few sennights. Robb still managed to delay their outing with a few days and agreed to accompany him to Wintertown later that sennight.
  
  Things got better a few days later when his Uncle Benjen showed up and offered to help him deal with the issues that he was currently stuck with. His uncle made Robb realise that he went about it the wrong way focussing too much on the problem and on not wanting to displease the Lords of the North. His uncle's method of focussing on the solution resulted in simple, be it a bit unorthodox ways to compromise. For example, Robb had been close to giving in to House Mormont and cut the taxes they owed their Liege Lord in half. Uncle Benjen told him that would create a dangerous precedent and would give the other bannermen the notion that they were paying too many taxes, which was a delicate issue at the best of times. He suggested Robb write Bear Island and order them to pay the regular taxes to House Stark immediately but that in turn House Stark would provide them with a stipend to pay for the upkeep of Cersei Lannister. Do not let them pay the balance. The accounting books must record that the entire sum of the taxes were received. The allowance will be entered on another page under a different heading. Robb saw his unresolved issues disappear one by one. Soon his desk was almost empty. Maester Luwin could put all the scrolls containing the issues that had been resolved in his archives and Robb only needed to tackle the new scrolls that arrived.
  
  Uncle Benjen also persuaded Edric not to leave for the Wall before he arranged a suitable escort for the young Lord. His uncle personally arranged a caravan with supplies from the Southern regions to depart for Eastwatch, where Edric could meet up with Jon's entourage and hopefully Jon soon. Edric would stay a few more days before finally saying goodbye to House Stark and Winterfell.
  
  Things had definitely gotten better for Robb. He started to have more free time and was able to enjoy himself more when he took a break. So when Theon Greyjoy reminded him of his promise to spend an evening in Wintertown together, Robb really looked forward to the outing.
  
  During their short journey on horseback, Theon sang the praises of a new whore, one that Robb was sure to like very much. At the brothel Theon wasted no time and immediately led Robb to a private room at the back of the establishment. Robb followed eagerly and even cut in front of Theon to be the first one to set foot in the small room. To Robb's surprise, it was not a beautiful whore that waited for him there. The heir of Winterfell looked straight into the mocking eyes of Ramsay Snow.
  
  End notes:
  
  I expect some of you will be disappointed. If you leave a comment, I ask you to do it in a respectful manner.
  
  Next chapter Jon and Dany make up. Jon has to do some risk assessment. In the interlude, Lady Olenna gives Ned a head ache.
  
  For those who didn't decrypt Jon's message to Strickland in last week's interlude 'Ravens', here is what he wrote:
  
  Will attack Pyke with dragons and Yara Greyjoy soon. Don't need support but send small contingent of men. Let them make some ruckus so you can claim the victory. Yara Greyjoy will proclaim far and wide that your Company helped her.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Finding a balance
  Chapter 22: Finding a balance
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon and Dany attempt to reconcile and Jon has to do some risk assessment.
  
  In the interlude Lady Olenna is a handful.
  
  End notes:
  
  Lots of kudos to my beta Ravenousreadr. Her encouragement and help are a godsend.
  
  After the conversation with Sam, Jon retired to his room but sleep wouldn't come quickly. The idea that had popped into his mind wouldn't let him rest. He clearly remembered every word Uncle Aemon had told him about how some Targaryens could use a certain substance to invoke visions. The mixture of a rare plant and the spores of a certain type of mushrooms might awaken the abilities of their Valyrian blood and possibly induce hallucinations that focussed on his house's future. And that was exactly what he needed!
  
  But his great-great-uncle had cautioned him that it was important to get the mixture just right and even then, the after effects could be long lasting and dangerous. He had further warned his nephew that in his particular case things might even be more dangerous since his Stark blood had the potential of giving its owner visions without the use of enhancements. It might well be that the concentration necessary for a full-blooded member of House Targaryen might be too strong for him. Uncle Aemon had made him swear only to undertake such a risky thing if a situation presented itself that was worth the risk, for example helping the members of House Targaryen to save many lives.
  
  Jon couldn't shake the idea however that this was perhaps the only means to find out if the mental health of a child he sired in Dany's womb would be at risk if it had their combined blood. Asking Howland Reed was not really an option. Not only was it a delicate and selfish matter, it would also take a lot of time and even then it was a long shot. The crannogman had often enough told him that he could neither direct his visions nor be sure he received enough detail to know with absolute certainty what his visions meant.
  
  He had a difficult decision to make. If assuring that the next generations of his house would not be affected by madness was paramount to him, he only had two one: he said goodbye to his dream of marrying Dany right here and now and married someone else sometime in the future to give him children. Option two: decide to take the risk, make the potion and hopefully catch a glimpse of the future himself. Even if the first option was the more rational one, it was not an optimal solution either. Uncle Aemon had warned him not to dilute the Targaryen blood any further, not with living dragons back in the realm. Taking the first option would mean certain heartbreak now and the possibility of facing an extremely difficult decision before he died. How could he even contemplate killing Rhaegal and Viserion?
  
  Although Jon had fought his great-great-uncle on the subject of marrying his aunt several times, getting to know Daenerys had made a world of difference and enticed him to choose the second option. So now he was really considering risking his health, perhaps even his life to force a vision, a greendream of his own future, the future of his house. He was well aware that this second option needed to be planned carefully. He would not be allowed to tell anyone the details of what he was doing, not even Dany. Uncle Aemon had been adamant. This was a secret only to be shared with the future head of House Targaryen.
  
  So if he really was going to do this, he would have to do it on his own, without Sam's help, without Davos' calming influence, without Uncle Benjen's support and without his guards to protect him. Perhaps his dragons and Ghost would be willing to guard him when the substance knocked him out cold and he was unconscious for an undetermined amount of time.
  
  He also needed to find a way to procure the two ingredients needed for the potion himself without arousing suspicion. Well, it was dark now so he could not start looking for the plants and mushrooms right away. He would do better to stop thinking about this and to try to get some sleep. He needed to be rested for his pivotal talk with Dany tomorrow afternoon.
  
  These good intentions didn't succeed in keeping the thoughts from circling around in his mind. The talk with Dany tomorrow afternoon really needed to go smoothly this time around. To achieve that, he should have a clear mind and not be troubled or distracted by other issues. That last thought prompted him to schedule a strenuous training session in the morning. It would get his blood pumped, his mind distracted and he would be tired in a good way. His body didn't need to be alert. It was his mind that needed to be clear.
  
  Having some beginnings of a plan in place, his mind finally agreed to let his body succumb to sleep.
  
  Jon woke the next morning with the lingering memory of that wonderful dream he had already experienced a few times before. Three small children were playing, but this time not with a beautiful black egg. Instead they were playing with a small black dragon.
  
  A smile lingered on his face as well. He wondered who these children were. He had felt a kinship to them but wasn't sure if they were supposed to be his children, his grandchildren, future nieces or nephews or kin even further down his line. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that this was more than just a mere dream. He almost believed but certainly hoped that it was a glimpse of a possible future. He felt rejuvenated somehow and dressed quickly.
  
  Despite his short night, Jon had energy to spare during his impromptu rather intensive training session with Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell. Halfway through both knights had admitted defeat and had doubled up facing Jon simultaneously. Jon was relentless today. It was clear the young man had to blow off some steam. It seemed he was trying to lose the stress and frustration of the last few sennights in one training session.
  
  Jon realised that it had been a while since Ser Gerold had seen him go all out in the training yard. Now Jon had both of them on the defensive once more. Ser Gerold was glad the Prince finally gave up and sat down on a low wall.
  
  "What has gotten into you this morning, my Prince? You fought like you had to save the lives of your loved ones."
  
  "Giving all I have is what you taught me to do, Ser Gerold. I had not found the time for an intensive session for a sennight at least. I wanted to make up for it. We need to schedule regular morning sessions again. There has been little opportunity to spar at Castle Black or beyond the Wall. And even during those trainings, I had to hold back for most of the session. It wouldn't have been polite to trash Nymeria Sand or humiliate Tormund Giantsbane in front of his men."
  
  "If you are getting too old to keep up with me, perhaps there are younger guards willing to train with me?" Jon appealed to their pride but his eyes twinkled in amusement.
  
  "Not so fast, young man. Next time you will do some physical training first and practice some moves we show you. Then we will come in all fresh and highly motivated to kick your ass. Even with our slightly more advanced number of celebrated namedays, we are still substantially better than any guard you can find out here. You would only scare the poor men all the way to King's Landing and we want to keep them here, loyal to us. Do not underestimate the value of our experience. I saw several of your moves coming from a mile away." Ser Gerold was quick to tone his Prince's smugness down a nudge.
  
  "That's because you were the ones that taught me those combinations in the first place. You know more than eighty per cent of my moves and I still beat you. How do you explain that?" Sweat was starting to tickle down his face and Jon wiped it away with his sleeve.
  
  "Well, the other twenty percent of course." Ser Oswell laughed but then grew serious. "Your speed, my Prince. You improved the frequency of your strikes enormously. You fight so fast that I seriously wonder if there is anyone out there who can keep up with you during a longer fight. Your style has improved as well. Your technique, well I challenge even Ser Arthur to find fault with it and your footwork is so light, elegant and highly efficient. How did you manage to achieve so much improvement in just a few moons?"
  
  "Ser Arthur still found fault, believe me. Even after I beat him, he still had lots of criticism." Jon arched his eyebrow, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. A pause ensued. Jon's eyes looked lost in thought as he pondered the question. He lifted his head slightly ad looked at his Kingsguards.
  
  "Let me try to explain. Something did happen. There was this one training session that everything just kind of fell into place. If I had to put it into words, I would say that I suddenly found my own rhythm or something of the sort. I might even profess that I found my own style. I no longer think about which foot to place in front or when to step to the side or even which combination of strokes to go for next. It just comes naturally. My entire body and mind are linked to my sword."
  
  Jon got nervous not knowing if they really understood him or believed what he was telling them. He spun his training sword with one arm and tried to express himself more clearly. "I can mostly read what my opponent plans as his next move with plenty of time to spare and I often have to hold back. That is why it is nice to spar with you two again. At the Wall, only Ser Arthur and Sandor could keep up with me and Sandor's head wasn't always in the game. Too many late nights with Tormund and the ladies, I suspect."
  
  He put down his sword since his fiddling was not helping him concentrate on the discussion. "I also did a lot of scouting beyond the Wall and there wasn't much time left to spar. I hope at least two out of the three of you can show up each morning for an intensive training session as long as I am here? I would like to keep the skill level I have attained and if possible improve some more. I know I need to gain more strength. I have to develop more muscles. So if you can find some exercises that focus on that, by all means, tire me out before you fight me. I am feeling very ambitious. I want to make sure I can face any opponent, no matter how tall, how strong or how skilled." Jon looked at Ser Gerold specifically when he voiced his goals.
  
  "Then come prepared tomorrow, my Prince. I promise we will not make it easy on you." His Lord Commander was quick to oblige.
  
  "I look forward to it. Thanks for this session, Ser Oswell, Ser Gerold." Jon picked up his training sword, got up from the short wall and stretched his slightly stiffened up limbs. "I am going to freshen up. Shall I see you at lunch?"
  
  "I'll escort you to your room, my Prince." Ser Oswell offered and together they walked toward the castle."
  
  Ser Gerold watched them leave and shook his head in wonderment. He had never seen a man fight like that before. Not even the Sword of the Morning. All credit to Ser Arthur though. The boy mastered his footwork and had impeccable technique. He was lightening fast and fought smart as well. 'And driven,' he added as an afterthought. To fight like that and ask for more intensive training, their Prince was one of a kind.
  
  He picked up some discarded pieces of armour and felt the stiffness in his back. Jon was right. He was getting old. He shook his head. The two of them simultaneously trying their utmost had barely been able to hold off one young man. He would have liked to see Jon defeat Ser Arthur, even if it had happened during a single bout. It would surely happen more often now. He wondered how long ago it had been that the Sword of the Morning had needed to admit defeat in a sparring session when he had been healthy and giving it his all. With a contented smile on his face, he started the long walk back to the castle.
  
  Jon took a hot bath to ease his sore muscles. He felt tired but extremely relaxed. His mind was empty. He felt as nice as after a mind sharing session with his dragons. He could sense the blood flow through his body and felt like he could take on the world. Well he would need to take on Daenerys. Somehow that thought didn't scare him as much as it had done last night. He even looked forward to it now.
  
  He put on his nicest outfit and together with Ser Oswell who also appeared with wet hair and a clean garb, they walked to the room where they usually took their meals. He knew his Kingsguards were wondering what was going on between him and the Targaryen Princess but he appreciated the fact that they kept silent on that subject. Neither a word, a hint nor a look had been uttered about it during his training session not even while Ser Oswell escorted him back to the castle and left him in front of the door to his quarters. Jon really was lucky with such loyal people surrounding him.
  
  When he entered the modest room where they preferred to partake of their morning and midday meals, Daenerys was already seated. It was the first time he saw her today. He smiled, glad to see her relax a bit upon witnessing that he was looking not the least bit nervous himself. Still the meal was somewhat awkward due to the intense scrutiny of Ser Barristan.
  
  When Jon teased Ser Gerold that he needed to train more to keep up, the men started to banter and the tension around the table eased. Daenerys even laughed out loud one time at something Ser Oswell said. To Jon's immense relief, Sam noticed the discomfiting stares Ser Barristan directed at Jon distracted the knight by asking him about the building styles in Pentos.
  
  Daenerys was the first one to retreat when the meal was over. She looked somewhat nervous when she told Jon that she wanted to change into something better suited for a ride than the dress she was currently wearing and promised to meet him out on the cliff where she had met the dragons the day before. Jon nodded his head and watched her leave, his heart beating loudly. He would follow Sam's advice and somehow it would all work out. Sam smiled encouragingly at him when Jon left the table soon after.
  
  He stood out on the windy cliff long before Daenerys showed up. He distracted his mind by counting the ships he could see from up here. He counted almost fifty and knew there were others in the smaller bay that was not visible from here. Most of them had come from the Driftmark, a smaller number had come all the way from White Harbour. He knew a lot more were on their way.
  
  At least sixty ships out of the one hundred and twenty that lay in White Harbour as a part of his future royal fleet would make the trip to Dragonstone in small convoys of five ships. It was necessary to move them gradually since they did not want to draw undue attention to an armada gathering so close to King's Landing.
  
  He turned his head and inspected the far cliff where he could see the encampments that were growing larger by the day. More than half of the crew stayed on land now and Ser Gerold had given them leave to establish camp there close to a small village that provided the necessary infrastructure. The people had taken the Prince's speech to heart and were cooperating nicely. It did help that they received a fair fee for their services. Soon Dragonstone would thrive like never before.
  
  Ser Oswell stood next to Jon on the cliff and surveyed the goings on as well. He had promised his Prince to make himself scarce as soon as Dany arrived with Ser Barristan. Both knights would be free from duty anyway once Jon and Dany flew off on Rhaegal.
  
  Finally Jon saw her descend the long stairway. Her figure looked small and fragile from where he stood. She was wearing breeches. That much he could make out. The coat she wore over them had an elegant cut and betrayed her gender, as did the braids of silverwhite hair. Jon swallowed. He really hoped he would be able to find the right words this time around.
  
  "Well, here we are," she said nervously studying his face when she finally stood before him.
  
  "I hope you are nervous about riding a dragon and not about having to talk to me, Dany." He took her hand, his face betraying neither thought nor mood while performing this simple gesture. "Would you prefer I call the dragons now, or do you want to talk first?"
  
  "Call the dragons?" She proposed hesitantly. "I have been dreaming all night about seeing the world from up high."
  
  "Give me a moment. Last I checked they were slumbering in the caves near the beach." Jon closed his eyes for what seemed like a very short moment. "They are on their way and eager to take us both up in the air, Dany. Come on. Let's move away from the edge. We will mount Rhaegal over there." With his free arm he pointed to a spot to her left.
  
  When they approached the green dragon, Daenerys looked at his enormous flank in wonder. "However am I going to get all the way up there?" She spoke her thoughts out loud.
  
  His earnest eyes look into hers. "Rhaegal and I will help you. See him lowering his wing already? You can use it as a makeshift stairway. Once up there, grab one of his spines and pull yourself up. I will be right behind you and can lift you up if necessary."
  
  In the end Jon hardly needed to help her. She sat there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jon installed himself behind her, gathered his arms around her and took hold of the spike in front of them.
  
  She held on to the one before that. Safely nestled between his strong thighs and arms she let the warmth of the dragon flow through her. "Aegon, this is amazing already. I envy you."
  
  "Hold on," he warned moments before Rhaegal took off. Viserion followed and flew very close to their left side. Jon knew all too well the silverwhite dragon was keeping an eye on him to make sure he behaved this time with the young kinswoman.
  
  The upward motion catapulted Daenerys' body firmly against Jon's chest. Neither of them corrected this position when the dragon flew more level again. Jon enjoyed their combined warmth where her back touched him. This was it. This was Dany. She was the only one who could share this wonderful feeling of soaring through the sky with him. He savoured the feeling and tightened his arms around her a bit to get her attention.
  
  "Are you enjoying yourself? Are you comfortable?" He asked his mouth close to her ear.
  
  "I have no words to describe this feeling, Aegon. It is as if the entire world is ours. Look! See how small the fortress is. Oh, is that there the Driftmark?" Daenerys had to shout her reply so he could hear it before the wind blew the sound away.
  
  "Yes, that is the island where I spent part of my youth. The people really love me there. We are going to circle around. Feel free to wave at them. They will welcome the sight of both of us on a dragon. Hold on tight we are going to make a steep turn now." One of his hands released Rhaegal's spine to secure her more tightly.
  
  "Don't worry!" She shouted over the wind. "I don't think I can fall off even if I wanted to."
  
  "In that case." Jon encouraged Rhaegal to fly random figures in the air and enjoyed her shrieks of excitement. He shifted his thighs a bit to press her tighter so she would stay safe."
  
  Both dragons were putting on a show. Daenerys was keeping her eyes on Viserion's antics so Jon needed to point out the people of the Driftmark that were gathering on the shore to greet them. "Wave, Dany. They are watching us."
  
  Dany hesitantly loosened one arm.
  
  "I've got you." Jon whispered in her ear. "You're safe with me, just wave at them. Rhaegal will fly a bit lower, slower and straight for now. I'll warn you when he will turn back to fly over the beach once more to oblige the people down there."
  
  After they made four passes over the ever growing crowd on the beach, Dany leaned back and turned her head to the right and slightly upward so she could look at Jon.
  
  "Will we make a stop here at the Driftmark and greet the people properly?" She didn't need to shout positioned like this.
  
  "I promised Ser Gerold I would not do that. I have given him enough to worry about lately. We agreed I would land on Dragonstone near the small bay where the other part of the fleet is anchored. He might have sent someone over there to guard us." Jon who could now see her face looking happy and excited found her more enticing than ever.
  
  "Let's stay in the air a bit longer. I like it up here." To emphasize her words she nestled herself back in her initial position and he could feel her relax against his body. Without thinking, he drew her closer to him and held her tighter than necessary.
  
  Jon flew low over the island showing her the small settlement and the house where he grew up and where his elderly foster grandmother still resided. She was also interested in the caves where he had hatched his dragons. Everything was going well. Their talk would go a lot smoother now that their joint flight had broken the ice. He felt his dragons' encouragement and slowly steered them back to the prearranged spot on Dragonstone.
  
  Jon helped her descend and guided her through her first wobbly steps. "I experienced the same after my first flight. You'll get used to it. We'll do this again soon. The dragons liked having you up there with us."
  
  "And you didn't?" She flirted totally relaxed in his presence now.
  
  "I enjoyed it immensely. You are the only person who really understands it fully now. I can try to describe this feeling to someone else but they can never grasp the joy of soaring through the air, the intensity of the effect of their warmth, their presence flowing through our bodies. Any attempt to go into more detail feels like boasting, like I am trying to make them envious. This is something we will always have, Dany, no matter how things turn out." His expression softened as he studied her.
  
  Dany didn't reply to that. She had experienced the dragon's warmth. How could she not. But she hadn't felt Rhaegal's presence flowing through her body the way Aegon just had described to her. She smiled back at him though not wanting to disappoint him nor disturb this feeling of compatibility, of kinship between them.
  
  She watched Jon say a lengthy goodbye to his dragons. He had his head once more against the green dragon's scales and seemed to be having an entire conversation. Eventually both dragons took to the sky. Jon watched them for a few moments before giving her his full attention.
  
  He took her hand and led her to a wooden bench that provided a beautiful view over the harbour. Jon had noticed Ser Barristan stand before a shelter and nodded slightly without Daenerys noticing. The knight disappeared inside the small cabin. Jon understood he would keep an eye on them discreetly through the narrow window that faced the harbour but Dany would not know he was there. He hoped it would make their talk easier if she didn't realise they were being chaperoned.
  
  "You are done talking about things and have reached a conclusion?" She asked him when they were both seated on the bench. She was very curious to hear what he had come up with. She had lain awake most of the night, her thoughts going around in circles and was far from reaching a happy solution herself.
  
  "Come here Dany. Sit closer." He said when he noticed her apprehensive expression.
  
  He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer still. "It is easier to talk to you this way. When I touch you like this, you feel more accessible. Don't worry. I will not lose my temper this time around. I've made sure that I am more relaxed today. Yesterday was a difficult day for both of us for many reasons."
  
  "Am I going to like what you are about to tell me?" She tried to decipher his mood.
  
  In response he tightened his arm around her to give her comfort."I am going to tell you the truth, Dany. You decide whether you like it or not."
  
  Her eyes widened and he saw her swallow.
  
  "To avoid misunderstandings, I want to make it very clear that today is the only day I am going to address this. I will not acknowledge this talk for moons to come. We will revisit this conversation later when things have run its course." He ran a hand over his face, his heartbeat quickening as he rehearsed his next words in his mind.
  
  She stayed silent but her eyes were big as saucers as she looked into his loving grey eyes that didn't lie to her now but showed her he cared about her... a lot. She was still shocked though when he came right out and said the words she had once heard him speak in a dream shortly after meeting him for the first time in Pentos.
  
  "I think I love you, Dany." He paused and shook his head. "No, that is not right. Let me start that again. I know I love you. I have, from the very first moment I saw you but I wasn't ready to admit it to myself back then."
  
  He took a deep breath. If only he could stay in this moment forever. If only he didn't have other responsibilities. He readjusted his position, removed his arm and sat more sideways now, so it was easier to face her. To add even more meaning to his words he took both her hands in his. "If I were just Jon Celtigar, an insignificant Lord of the Driftmark, I would fall on my knees before you and ask you to marry me this instant."
  
  "But," Daenerys started, however the protest died on her lips. Jon had freed one hand so he could move it upwards and had softly put his fingers on her mouth.
  
  "Shhh, Let me talk. You wanted an explanation for my behaviour, so better listen now that I am willing to give it." He felt her start to shake and tried to get her to fix all her attention on him.
  
  "Dany, look at me." With a long loving look he compelled her to calm down. She swallowed a few times and nodded, her purple eyes now returning the warmth of his dark grey orbs. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth and re-established contact cradling her small hands in his.
  
  "Let me explain myself. There are many reasons why I have been holding you at arm's length. First the obvious political ones that I explained yesterday. Then there is the fact that we are related and that incestuous relationships have caused a few of our family members to succumb to madness. I would hate to inflict that fate on one of my children."
  
  He sighed, made an effort to smoothen the frown that had appeared on his forehead and finished explaining his motives. "Last but not least, I need to use all my focus and energy to defeat a very dangerous and powerful enemy to the North and at the same time I cannot in good faith delay my bid for the Iron Throne. To do so would endanger my loyal allies and lessen our chances substantially. Some of them have dedicated many years of their lives to my cause already. I have a responsibility to these people and I need to do everything in my power to prevent bloodshed. I cannot allow myself to get distracted, Dany. I have a lot on my plate right now."
  
  He pulled back a bit. His concerned look met her teary eyes. The voice he used now would have to convince her that he really believed his own statements. "Therefore, I must put all personal plans on hold indefinitely. Before our uh 'talk' yesterday, I did not think it fair to ask that much of you. You are of an age to marry." He once more put his fingers tenderly on her mouth. His eyes beseeched her to let him continue.
  
  "I still cannot promise you that we will not have to marry other people for political reasons. But I vow to you here and now that I will do my utmost to prevent that from happening. The Gods are my witness, I will try every other option first before I will give in. But Dany, please understand that I cannot have the blood of thousands of innocents on my hands if a war breaks out because I selfishly refused to secure an alliance through marriage. I could never live a happy life after that. And I think neither could you." Regret marred his features. Thoughts of the tragic relationship of his parents and its aftermath flittered through is mind. That was the reason that it took him a while to fully take in her reaction to his words.
  
  Tears were flowing freely over her face. Jon pulled her closer again so her head could nestle itself against his chest. She hugged him desperately and he hugged her tightly in return. He used both his arms to hold her in place. Suddenly he felt her stir in his arms.
  
  She tilted her head upwards and looked at him her eyes shiny with tears but optimism shone brightly in them. "There is hope," she reacted in a daze. Then with building excitement she added, "Aegon, you just told me there is hope! We only need to be patient and very smart. I can help. I will help! I will help you find ways to secure alliances. Please, let me help?"
  
  Jon looked at her face that radiated love and excitement despite still being wet with tears. He disentangled one arm and gently reached out with his free hand and proceeded to wipe away the tears on her cheekbones with gentle strokes of his thumb. Softly cupping her chin, he turned her face up towards him even more. That way he could lose himself into her beautiful purple eyes. He did not need more words, those eyes revealed all that she felt and mirrored all that he felt, all that he thought.
  
  Her lips somehow came closer. It took him a moment to realise that he was the one that was slowly bending his head towards her. With her mouth so close that he could feel her little puffs of breath he couldn't hold back any longer. He gently covered her lips with his own. I t was a sweet lingering moment that ended much too soon. When he withdrew, his lips crooked into the smallest of smiles as he watched the wonder in her eyes. He felt her sigh of contentment and knew somehow this beautiful woman had only now received her first kiss.
  
  Not able to resist, he pulled her closer to him and kissed her again. This time it was not a ghost of a kiss. This time, he touched her lips with soft, reverent passion. Putting a hand at either side of her face, he found her lips again and again with his own, his mouth moving over hers with ever-deepening pressure. Jon lost himself in her scent, in her willing mouth in the feel of her body that rested so willingly in his arms. He kissed her as if they were the only ones in the world and she existed just for him.
  
  And when his lips finally left her mouth, it was to worship the rest of her face with kisses, the tip of her nose, the delicate swell of her chin, her soft cheeks that were once more wet with tears, her warm loving eyes and her delicate forehead. He slowly released his hold on her chin and looked at her closed eyes and her body that was leaning a bit more towards his instinctively searching for his touch.
  
  "Dany, this is torture. We have to stop. You do not know what you are doing to me." His stomach churned at how much his would miss this.
  
  When she tried to pull him closer to her, he resisted. "Dany, we should stop. We must not do this. It will make things that much harder afterwards."
  
  She held on to him almost desperately. "You said today, Aegon. You promised me today. Today we could talk about this. Let us have this one perfect day. Today we speak words of love and then we tuck them away and will perform our duty. We will, how did you put it? We will revisit this when things are settled. Kiss me today, Aegon. Please, kiss me today."
  
  He didn't resist when she took the initiative and tentatively touched his lips with her mouth. It wasn't a desperate kiss as he had feared it would be. It started as a shy touch of her lips on his and even when she opened her mouth it only grew more intimate and still stayed sweet. Again he was the one to pull back. This time however his eyes that bore into hers spoke of devotion and passion.
  
  "You love me, Aegon. Tell me again that you love me. I don't care if you can't hold back. I don't care about anything but having you close to me touching me, kissing me. We have today, Aegon. Perhaps we have tonight?"
  
  "I love you Dany, like I have loved nothing else before in my life. I adore you. I always will, no matter was happens in the future. But we can't continue. Not like this Dany, and certainly not tonight."
  
  He gently pulled back a little to create some space between them. He took both of her hands in his to soften the blow of his refusal. His face had regained its serious expression. "I will not be selfish. I have promised you the truth today and I have promised you to talk about it today. These kisses were not foreseen and are an unexpected blessing. We mustn't let it go any further. We have to keep all options open. If I have you now, I won't be able to give you up. If you only knew how much more difficult these few heavenly moments already have made it for me to stay rational and stick to the plan." He exhaled slowly.
  
  "I can't be selfish, Dany. I cannot, I will not let thousands die just to make two persons happy. I would not be able to be happy with you with such a thing on my conscience. Could you? We have to wait Dany. Wait and pray that we will find a way to unite the Seven Kingdoms under the Targaryen banner without bloodshed and without sacrificing our personal freedom."
  
  A tortured look and a quick kiss with of his closed lips was all she received before he continued. "There is also the issue of our kinship. We are both Targaryens, aunt and nephew. I hope my Stark blood gives us a fair chance but I will contact a greenseer first. If he sees madness in our future offspring, I will not marry you Dany, no matter our feelings. You know I need heirs to continue our house. More importantly I have to create a new generation with my blood. I require someone I can teach how to develop a bond with Rhaegal and Viserion. If I do not succeed in this endeavour, disaster may strike our Kingdoms after my death. The odds are against us, my love. So pray to the Gods to help us. I will do so too, fervently, every single day."
  
  He looked at her small hands and kissed her palms one by one. Still holding on to her hands and with an almost frantic expression on his face, he beseeched her. "Don't cry Dany. Concentrate of the positives. As you said, there is still hope. But now you must be strong and not tempt me further. We are going to walk back to the castle. It is a nice long walk from down here. We are going to calm down, walk arm in arm and behave as we have before this day. Not a word about this will be spoken between us."
  
  "Promise me that. Promise me you will still be able to be my best friend Dany, my confidante, the one who I can talk to as a dear member of my family and who will help me prepare for the challenges that lie ahead of me. Promise me you will wait patiently until we know what our fate will be. But most of all, promise me Dany that you will not tempt me, tempt us, promise me this upon all you hold dear." His handsome face was twisted by emotion.
  
  This time it was she who caressed his cheeks. "I promise you, Aegon. What you ask of me will be very hard, nigh on impossible really. But I will promise you to try if you hold me one last time. If you kiss me one more time as if there is no tomorrow. I want the sweetest, most loving kiss a man has ever bestowed on a woman. I want you to give me a moment so beautiful that it can last me a lifetime if necessary. I will burn this moment in my memory so that when I close my eyes, I can experience it over and over again until such a time that we can create new memories or that I am no longer."
  
  Both were crying when she stopped speaking. "Let us stand for this, Dany. So I can take you in my arms in a better way, in a way I have often pictured myself doing."
  
  He helped her get up from the bench and embraced her once more. With his hands on her lower back he gently brought their bodies closer. "Close your eyes and just as during our dragonride, imagine my warmth flowing into your body. Let my warmth mix with yours there and allow our combined heath to circle back and forth between our bodies. Close your eyes, love. Our magical moment is about to start. Close your eyes and feel our warmth, our energies mix. Feel my love flow into you."
  
  He stopped talking and every so slowly kissed the corner of her mouth, she sighed in anticipation. He moved to the other side of her mouth and kissed that spot as well. Then he gave her small ghost like kisses, their lips hardly touching. He felt her submit and follow his pace. He concentrated on her lower lip and worshiped it, only to release her mouth entirely and kiss the throbbing vein in her neck. Dany obliged him, bowing her head a bit backwards.
  
  "Such a pale soft skin. You are perfect, Dany." He kissed her ear and bit gently in the delicate lobe. "I am going to kiss you now. Take note if you want to remember."
  
  He moved his head slightly and kissed her lips, urging her to open them. He slipped his tongue inside as soon as she obliged him and deepened the kiss. Instead of the innocent kisses of earlier he poured all his love and passion into this one.
  
  He felt she was struggling to breathe and released her mouth just long enough to whisper, "Breathe through your nose, your mouth is mine for now," and resumed worshipping her mouth.
  
  Much later he slowly eased the intensity and his kisses grew sweeter, until the last one was nothing more than a soft, innocent touch of his lips just like the very first one he had given her today. He left her lips to kiss the corner of her mouth one last time and then drew his head back. He admired her red swollen lips, her eyes filled with passion, her body softly trembling in a trance like state.
  
  They stayed glued to each other for a long time until Dany slowly came back to herself. He took one small hand in his and with a ghost of a smile on his lips he gently guided her toward the path that led to the castle. Neither of them spoke a word. Neither of them noticed the uneasy stare of Ser Barristan that followed them on their long walk back to the castle.
  
  The next few days were hard for Dany. She had been lifted up to the heavens for a short moment and now she was firmly rooted to the ground the heavens far beyond her reach. When reading a book or performing small solitary chores, she often stopped to close her eyes and summon the memories of those magical moments in the small bay to convince herself that it had not been a dream, that it had really happened.
  
  Aegon was nothing if not a man of his word. To her enormous frustration, he acted as if that day had never happened. He was the kind caring member of her house from before, from before their kisses, from before their heated argument on the cliff.
  
  When he sat at the meal table before she entered, he always rose and assisted her with her chair, asked her about her day, whether the food was to her liking and other small inanities. She had stopped counting how many times he had made a remark about the weather. She often saw Ser Barristan's concerned looked trained upon her as well as on Aegon but the knight refrained from commenting.
  
  One good thing had come from their honest discussions. She had been allowed to attend strategy meetings and had been awed by the number of issues they tackled in each meeting. She had a hard time keeping up, but Aegon helped her afterwards, answering her questions out of earshot of the others, slowly providing her the background for several decisions that during the meeting had seemed illogical to her. He told her not to worry. That the only reason it was this difficult for her now was because she had missed years of scheming. Nobody could really grasp what exactly happened in a story if one only heard the last part.
  
  She often had to refrain herself from just falling into his arms and thanking him by kissing him senseless. Sometimes she could discern that he was touched by something she did or said but most of the time he kept himself well in check. She admired his strength but at the same time she still hoped for a moment of weakness. He had granted her the perfect moment she had asked for but it had only made her realise exactly what she was missing out on now.
  
  Why could they not be ordinary people, he a farmer she a farmer's wife? No politics, no throne and if there was a mystical enemy in the north, it would not be their responsibility. They would never know it was there at all. They would farm their land, pay their rent and make love every night.
  
  After a hint from Aegon, she had started assisting Sam, who always seemed swamped with scrolls. She wrote the simpler messages and often volunteered to bring all the sealed scrolls that were ready to send out to Maester Pylos and keep watch until the ravens were well on their way. That way they made sure that Maester Pylos didn't read their content. Aegon was still not sure of his allegiance. As long as the situation in the north was a priority and he could be called away to the Wall any moment, it was imperative that nobody got wind of House Targaryen ruling Dragonstone again. He wanted to be sure his entourage remained safe on Dragonstone when he and his dragons were in the far North and could not defend his loyal followers on the island.
  
  Every morning she watched his training sessions from a strategically placed window. Even though she knew nothing of the intricacies of swordplay or the normal levels of intensity such trainings demanded, she could still grasp that what she saw was out of the ordinary. She admired his elegance, his speed as she witnessed him fight off two skilled Kingsguards simultaneously. She might not know much about technique but she knew full well the reputations of the two knights he was fighting. Even after he had lifted heavy stones and had performed countless sprints, he still had enough energy left to hold his own against Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold who - as far as she could tell - didn't hold back with their dulled training swords.
  
  She had panicked the first time she had seen them swing at each other with metal swords using their full strength until Aegon had explained to her that the swords they used were dulled and he wore protective armour. The worst he suffered were a few bruises, and those, he had boasted, he only got the one or two times his opponents got past his defences. Ever since, she never tired of seeing him train and spent her mornings in that small room pretending to read a book near the window to make the most of the daylight.
  
  During meetings, Aegon was a force to be reckoned with. He always had an endless list of topics to discuss. He patiently listened to all his advisors had to say but most of the time he provided a logical solution himself. His friend Sam was the only one able to keep up with him when he started to reason his way out of a problem out loud.
  
  One time she had witnessed both of them throwing ideas at each other at such a speed. Each statement one of them uttered, building on a part of the idea the other had proposed, putting together a solution step by step to eventually and ending up with a complicated airtight answer to a difficult question. She had not been the only one who had watched on with growing amazement.
  
  The three Kingsguards had shaken their heads and let the two young men do their 'brainstorming'. At least that was the word Ser Oswell had whispered in her ear when she had asked him quietly what they were doing. He had told her 'brainstorming' was a new term that Samwell Tarly had invented to describe their strange method of working out problems.
  
  One of the topics Aegon had been relentless about was the fate of the families whose members had been contained when Ser Gerold had first landed on Dragonstone. That momentous day, when Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell backed by the well-trained crewmembers of ten of Aegon's ships had landed on Dragonstone, they had not encountered any resistance at first.
  
  While climbing the winding path that led to the castle they had been attacked by a small force of approximately twenty men that had desperately tried to fight off the superior numbers that sought entrance to the castle. Ser Gerold had been surprised at first. Crouched behind the low wall where the path made a high turn, the small Baratheon force had kept itself well-hidden. Two of Aegon's men had been injured during the short clash that followed.
  
  They had apprehended the attackers and locked them up in dark cells beneath the fortress. Upon receiving a raven from their Prince though, they had transferred the prisoners to modest quarters containing windows letting in sunlight and fresh air. These were some of the rooms usually reserved for servants. At this time the Baratheon supporters were still locked in there. Aegon had not allowed for their prisoners to be mistreated. He had also forbidden his forces and the loyal smallfolk in the settlements to harass their families that lived on the island.
  
  He had argued to all that protested that these men were honourable men that had arrived with the Baratheon retinue but had stayed on the island because they had married into families already living here. He intended to speak to them and offer them a choice. Either they swore allegiance to him and became his loyal subjects or they returned to the Stormlands after things had settled and Aegon had won his throne.
  
  For now he visited them once in a while to check if they were treated all right. Several claimed they had already made up their minds and preferred to swear allegiance to the Prince so they could rejoin their family members on Dragonstone as soon as they were allowed.
  
  During the last meeting Daenerys attended, a case was brought forward of a farmer of Valyrian origin who had laid a hand on a woman and had threatened her two daughters, the women being defenceless because their husband and father was one of the men who had helped attack the Targaryen forces. Luckily the woman had only suffered some nasty bruises.
  
  Aegon had let his guards arrest the culprit and to set an example he had imprisoned him for two moons in a similar room as the others. The man's sons were ordered to help farm the victim's family's small patch of land for that same amount of time. He made sure regular patrols would keep an eye on the situation.
  
  With the authority of the Prince of Dragonstone, Aegon personally spoke to all parties concerned and no similar incidents occurred. The man he had imprisoned temporarily almost prostrated himself before his Prince promising him he would be his most loyal subject from now on and would never go against his Prince's edicts again even if he didn't understand them. Aegon had responded that he could prove this by making himself useful during his forced stay in the fortress and help the servants care for the other prisoners.
  
  Daenerys had never met anyone like Aegon before. Seeing him constantly these two sennights, finding new things to admire in him and not try to get him to lose his self-control, was hard. Still, she kept her promise. At first she had not understood why he wouldn't take advantage of this precious respite here on Dragonstone. Why they could not cherish each other's love before he had to fly off and face unimaginable dangers. Seeing him at work though, she started to understand what he had been trying to tell her.
  
  His quest for the Iron Throne was not just an act of revenge or a blind ambition of his. It was important for the realm. More than a million people's lives would miss a chance at a better life if he failed. She had witnessed first-hand how quick his mind could work when he focussed it entirely on something.
  
  She began to realise that the solutions he brought to the table were not always instant ideas but things he had worked on hard alone or with Sam before presenting them to his small council. These meetings also showed her how complicated and dangerous things could potentially get, how many angles they needed to consider.
  
  Slowly she came to terms with the fact that she should not complicate his life further right now nor take away his concentration by moping or looking unhappy in his presence. The realm needed him. She could imagine no man more suited to rule the Seven Kingdoms than Aegon. He would work hard to create a better world for each of his subjects, no matter how lowly born. She once more made the resolution to help him and to do whatever he asked.
  
  One morning Daenerys had been confronted with an empty training yard only to hear afterwards that Aegon had left to visit the Driftmark and his foster-grandmother without breathing a word of it to her. She would have liked to meet Lady Celtigar, formerly of House Velaryon. Aegon could have easily taken her with him on Rhaegal. She was the only one he could have taken but he hadn't asked. He had preferred to go alone. As she had done the previous days, she looked for things to keep her busy and prevent her from dwelling on everything she wanted but could not have... for now.
  
  As soon as the opportunity presented itself she had looked for Sam and had asked him to tell her how his friendship with Aegon had come about. She also enquired after Sam's background. Sam was friendly but kept to innocent subjects, not wanting to betray the confidence of his friend.
  
  Somehow she couldn't fault the young man. Aegon inspired that kind of loyalty in almost everyone. No complaint however small had reached her ears. If anything she had overheard the servants talking of how polite the Prince was towards them. How he thanked them for the smallest service and often fended for himself. How he greeted everyone he passed in a hallway and if he didn't remember their names or hadn't met them yet he would enquire after them when the occasion allowed for it.
  
  She stopped her daydreaming about her nephew and focussed on Sam. She had offered to help him study High Valyrian. It was easier to learn a language if you could speak it with someone instead of just getting your knowledge exclusively from books.
  
  Even if she didn't live her dream life with Aegon, her life had changed so much for the better already. She helped run part of the household, organised menus dealt with small incidents between the staff and handled other small matters that were best dealt with by a female hand. Managing all that and assisting and tutoring Sam hardly left her enough time for her earlier hobbies as reading and embroidering. Sometimes Aegon even gave her small research assignments. The days flew by and she was almost content. She felt useful and knew if she needed to write a letter to him this time, she would have lots of things to put in it.
  
  Perhaps she would ask for Aegon's permission to visit with his foster grandmother after he had left to deal with the situation at the Wall.
  
  Jon's last few days on Dragonstone had been busier than ever. He had spent his late afternoons, after meetings and before supper scouting the island with his dragons looking for the ingredients he needed for the potion Maester Aemon had taught him to make.
  
  At first, he had sent his dragons on their own with the assignment but it had not been easy for them to spot the tiny difference between the leaves of plants or the tiny brown mushrooms from up high. After visiting several secluded spots on the island, he had gathered enough of the green plant for one session. His dragons had flown him to a few places near a waterfall or creek where all kinds of mushrooms grew closely together. Unfortunately none of these fitted the detailed description of his great-great-uncle.
  
  His dreams however kept getting weirder even without the substance. Often small children featured prominently in his dreams. He couldn't explain how or why but he was sure now that he was not their father but possibly their grandfather or great-grandfather?
  
  Their adorable faces were a mixture of Valyrian and Northern features which made him apprehensive. The image of Dany possibly marrying another dark haired Northerner tortured him. He was glad Robb had red hair for that was a possibility he was sure he wouldn't be able to live with. These annoyingly vague dreams only made him more desperate to find the elusive mushrooms and mix the potion.
  
  Another recurring dream that plagued him was Azor Ahai wielding his flaming sword that dripped with blood. He hoped this was no vision but only a way of his subconscious to release the fears that he supressed during the day. These dreams had reminded him that there was one more reason why it was dangerous for him to act on his love for Daenerys. If there was a chance that he really was this re-born version of Azor Ahai, he couldn't take a wife yet. Certainly not one he loved with every fibre of his being and would have to put to the sword. He would not endanger her.
  
  He realised his time here was running out. One of these days the raven would come that summoned him back to the Wall and he would have to play his part, prophesy or not. Well perhaps his upcoming short trip to the Driftmark could bring a bit of solace. His dragons would visit the caves they grew up in and search that environment for the clusters of mushrooms he remembered vaguely from his youth. They would have plenty of time while he made his scheduled visits on the island.
  
  When he returned to the castle from yet another fruitless search for the apparently rare mushroom, Ser Barristan greeted him at the gate and walked beside him to his room. Jon hated the fact that the loyal man could hardly look him in the eye. When he entered his quarters he turned toward the knight.
  
  "Ser Barristan, do you have a moment for me?" He saw the man hesitate.
  
  "Of course, my Prince." Ser Barristan answered eventually and entered the room. "Is something the matter?"
  
  "Not really. I just thought that it would help if we said a few words and put the awkwardness behind us."
  
  Ser Barristan stiffened. "I did not intend to offend you, my Prince."
  
  "You didn't. I just wanted to reassure you that Daenerys and I are making the best of a difficult situation. We uh reached an understanding and support each other. There is no need for you to take her side. Her side is also my side." Jon stopped talking, not sure what more he could say without embarrassing himself some more."
  
  "I did not, I was not, I mean, I feel for both of you, my Prince. I pray to the Gods each night that everything will work out for you and the Princess." Ser Barristan looked straight at his Prince's eye for more than a fleeting second for the first time in days.
  
  "I thank you, Ser Barristan. So we're good?" Jon looked relieved no further explanations were required.
  
  "It is an honour to serve you, my Prince." Ser Barristan bowed and left the room feeling a lot better.
  
  Interlude 22: Of possible betrothals and headaches
  
  "My Lord Hand," Lady Olenna greeted Lord Stark crisply when she entered the room where the Hand of the King usually held meetings and prepared his scrolls. "You made me climb a lot of stairs. I hope you have ample refreshments in this old fashioned tower of yours. I still do not see why you could not do me the courtesy of accepting my invitation for tea. The weather is lovely outside."
  
  Lord Stark got up from the chair behind his ostentatious desk to greet her. "And many birds sing in the garden. I am sorry, Lady Tyrell. It couldn't be helped. I decided privacy was more important than fresh air. Let me welcome you to the Tower of the Hand. Please do be seated. Of course I have seen to it that there is fresh lemon water and Arbor Gold at our disposal. Just let me know which you prefer."
  
  He circled his desk and eyed the tough shrew Varys had told him Lady Olenna was.
  
  "Do not let yourself be fooled by her frail behaviour, her white hair and her gaunt thin hands, my Lord Hand," Varys had warned him. "She is not called the 'Queen of Thorns' for nothing. She has been masterminding political intrigues even before you were a child being weaned at your mother's breasts."
  
  "I know of her reputation, Lord Varys." Ned had replied with exasperation. "I am not totally ignorant."
  
  "No one says you are." Lord Varys had tried to placate him. "Please keep in mind that knowing it and experiencing it are two entirely different things. Be on your guard, my Lord or she will get you riled up in not time. And for the Gods' sake, do not let her see your frustration or get on the defensive immediately as you did with me just now. I would not bode well for the rest of your dealings with her."
  
  Ned schooled his face to hide his thoughts while he helped Lady Olenna arrange her chair and provided her with a cup still waiting for her to voice her drink of choice.
  
  "I'll start with a cup of lemon water to clench my thirst. But I'd like a cup of Arbor Gold right next to it. I'll sip that for the splendid taste. In all the years I have lived, I have yet to find a region that produces sweeter wine than the Reach." Her tone of voice made it clear she expected no comment to her statement.
  
  Ned saw her observing his hands that presented her a second cup and poured the liquids. He had seen to it that there were no servants nearby. The closest living being was a Stark guard stationed in the hallway, one that he could trust implicitly. The others were stationed at the far end near the stairs. He kept his hands steady, keeping Lord Varys' advice in mind.
  
  "Whatever you do, do not show any weakness. Do not fidget, try not to sweat. Best dress lighter than usual. She will not respect you if she perceives you fear her."
  
  "A slice of cake, my Lady?" He offered her a plate with several delicious looking pastries on it.
  
  "Just put it down there and let us start this long overdue conversation, my Lord Hand. And do not insult me by stating that that could not be helped either." She retorted rather impolitely and didn't hide her impatience as she waved the plate away.
  
  "Then I shall oblige you and will not bore you with the enumeration of all the matters of state that kept me rather busy, my Lady." Ned took a seat at the small table facing her and made a show of giving her his full attention.
  
  "Don't patronize me." She warned him and pursed her lips.
  
  Ned considered it a little victory that she was the first one to lose some of her composure.
  
  "And here I thought the honourable Ned Stark wouldn't play games and would be a straightforward partner to discuss the Reach's interests with. Have these few sennights in the capital already corrupted you, My Lord Hand? Are you afraid of saying to my face that you have been avoiding me?" She raised her shoulders as if to steel herself for his reaction.
  
  "My Lady, is it really in your best interest to start this negotiation in such a controversial fashion. I had heard tell you are as pragmatic as you are intelligent. It is not a wise move to antagonise the Hand of the King now that he grants you his full attention. Perhaps you would like to tell me what it is that you have come here to discuss."
  
  Varys had told him she would not shy away from bluntly stating her opinion if it was in her own interest but he couldn't help but think she was not going about this as astute as her reputation had made him fear she would.
  
  "How long will you keep my sons in that dreary North of yours? The heir belongs in Highgarden and Loras is not used to the cold. Descriptions of stuffed noses, watery eyes and ill-suited clothing make up for more than half of the content of his sparse messages." She didn't temper her plain-spoken behaviour even the slightest bit despite his warning.
  
  "I am not holding your sons prisoner, Lady Tyrell. Willas Tyrell is a welcome visitor despite the fact that he showed up unannounced and without invitation. Of course he is free to leave anytime he chooses. Your other son, Loras will need permission of the King to return home. I am sure that I can use my influence with King Robert to grant him clemency in the near future. I just warn you not to rush his Grace or address your King personally. He is not happy with this sad business. Just as you have known the nature of your grandson, the King has always tolerated the preferences of his youngest brother as long as he was discreet. Somehow his Grace blames your grandson for making Prince Renly lose his sense of propriety."
  
  When Lady Olenna snorted with disbelief and looked unimpressed, Ned repressed the slight feeling of guilt for manipulating the truth and continued to intimidate her.
  
  "Before the incident, his youngest brother had always been extremely guarded and circumspect when pursuing his 'desires', shall we say. Be glad your grandson is not rotting away in the black cells, which most likely is where he would have been still if not for my plea for leniency. You can't convince me that you are not relieved that your proud name has not been the object of ridicule and derision these last few moons any more than it was."
  
  Lady Olenna huffed and studied him with narrowed eyes. "So I am not to approach the King personally? Are you sure you are not taking advantage of this situation to prevent me from advocating the case of my granddaughter? His Grace is in search of a young and fertile wife, is he not? My Margaery is just what he needs. She is young, beautiful and the granddaughter of a lord Paramount. We can also provide the Crown with a substantial dowry."
  
  "I will not be the first to warn you that it is in bad taste to present the King with an official betrothal proposal when his marriage has not been formally annulled yet." Lord Stark spoke with confidence.
  
  She cocked her head and kept staring at him with her beady eyes. "Speaking of the annulment, why exactly has it not been granted yet? What is causing the delay? More political games, my Lord Hand?"
  
  "These are private matters between the King and the Queen. I am afraid I cannot go into detail. Just know that the High Septon is consulting the Archmaesters at the Citadel. We will know more soon."
  
  She leaned forward so he could not avoid looking straight at her without being disrespectful. "Just tell me this, my Lord Hand. Is my granddaughter, lady Margaery on the shortlist of candidates to become his new Queen?"
  
  "There is no shortlist yet. Of course she will be considered if that is really your wish. I had not planned to put her on it though. I want better for your granddaughter." He was proud he hadn't blinked once when he formulated his answer.
  
  "Your son, I presume? Ha, you are not a good Hand at all. The honourable Ned Stark is pursuing his own agenda. Need I remind you that you are first and foremost Hand of the King and only second, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell? You are showing your hand, Lord Stark. You haven't learned how to become a political strategist yet, have you? Varys warned me I should not talk to you but let him present my interests to the King instead." She looked at him with disdain now.
  
  "I won't keep you from doing that. Just as I will vow to put Lady Margaery on the shortlist if that is your wish, Lady Tyrell. But just think about the consequences."
  
  He hid his glee at how she squirmed ever so slightly in her chair. Her defiant behaviour had lost some of its momentum. Time to bring out his most compelling argument Jon had asked him to use and Lord Varys' well-placed rumours had laid the groundwork for.
  
  "Are you willing to squander her youth and condemn her to a life without children? Will you risk shortening her life considerably by possibly exposing her to a nasty disease? Just say the word and I'll put her at the top of the list. But perhaps you should be kind and tell your grandchild what she can expect when she obeys and follows your blind ambitions. She will be the one who will spend her life with an infertile husband who drinks and whores. She will be the one whose life will be at risk if they are intimate."
  
  Ned was sure the strategically placed rumours of the King's infertility due to a hunting accident or the version of the whore's disease he supposedly suffered from had reached her ears already and that these would make her uncertain.
  
  "You are reaching, Lord Hand. If that is the case, the next heir to the throne would be Stannis Baratheon. That man won't want you for his Hand no matter how much you might think otherwise." Her mouth was pressed in a thin line when she awaited his reaction.
  
  "King Robert may yet reign until I am grey and old, my Lady. Have you considered Lord Stannis Baratheon's wife is rather ill? Perhaps now house Tyrell will consider sour Lord Stannis a better husband for your granddaughter. Maybe you should consider marrying him yourself? I am not good at guessing a lady's number of celebrated namedays. Is it possible the age difference between you and him is smaller than between the King and your granddaughter?" Ned couldn't prevent venting a bit of his frustration with her stubborn ambitions.
  
  "Come now, Lord Stark, no need to insult an old lady. I want what is best for my granddaughter. She was born to be queen. She is smart, beautiful and more capable than many a noble male. She just needs a bit more maturity and she could rule the Seven Kingdoms singlehandedly. I taught her you see?" Her voice had taken on a more persuasive tone.
  
  "Then think long and hard about what is the best for that precious gem your granddaughter apparently is, Lady Tyrell. And do not forget who your enemies are and who aren't. House Stark has had the best interest of the Reach in mind for many years now. I am sure you have been kept informed of all of the past dealings between our Kingdoms and know very well what I am referring to."
  
  "Now you sound a lot like your son, my Lord Hand. I suppose it was upon your behest that he is manipulating my heir to declare House Stark a firm ally and propose marriage to your daughter Sansa?" She retorted sharply.
  
  "We are not your enemy, Lady Olenna. You better not make the mistake to think House Stark keeps to the North and does not know what is going on in the Realm. I am aware of your endeavour to forge an alliance with the Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen in Pentos. I also know you are disappointed not to have received a reply yet. Perhaps it is for the best. She is not the owner of the rumoured dragon flying over the Narrow Sea." Ned made an effort to keep his voice even.
  
  "Sometimes it is in one's interest to work with one's enemies rather than constantly competing against them." She paused as if trying to decide her next move. She cocked her head slightly when she tried to coax a reaction out of him. "So you admit to the rumours that the North knows to whom this dragon belongs? I could have sworn I heard somewhere that there were two full grown dragons not one and that there was a dragonrider with mixed blood and with a possible kinship to House Stark."
  
  "None of these rumours have been confirmed, Lady Tyrell. I am sure you have been briefed word for word about what transpired at Littlefinger's trial." He stayed calm. Now was not the time to disappoint Jon by revealing too much. He kept his voice neutral when he added "And calling a seventeen year old girl with a sheltered upbringing an enemy would imply you fear her."
  
  "So you deny it?" She asked him point blank.
  
  "What if I told you that King Robert's days of ruling are numbered, never mind the immediate cause?"
  
  "Then yours would be too." She stated matter of fact but she remained very alert and kept track of his facial expression.
  
  He steeled himself when he bluffed. "Are you certain of that, Lady Tyrell? You know of our efforts to befriend the Reach. It would not be too farfetched to believe we have been courting the goodwill of the other Lord Paramounts and Wardens as well and for as many years. The North has gained enormous influence and support the last decade or more. What if I told you that whatever happens, whichever King rules, I will always have his ear. And my House would only be second to the royal family."
  
  He paused strategically to let his words sink in before continuing. "Be very sure of your decision, Lady Tyrell. House Stark has contingency plans for every eventuality. I receive new requests to betroth my children every day. You are aiming too high and soon there will be no good options left for your precious granddaughter. The Lord of the Vale is just a child. Dorne will never accept a Tyrell as a suitable bride for any of their kin, Stannis has no sons, Lord Edmure Tully will not marry someone without my consent I must warn you, so that leaves the currently fallen from favour Lord Tyrion Lannister as her best option when I take Robb Stark off the marriage market."
  
  "Whatever King rules? Even if he has dragons?" Her voice stayed firm but she had paled visibly.
  
  "I do not speak lightly, my Lady, nor will I repeat myself." Ned hoped she would not hear the fast beating of his heart and tried not to blink and return her stare with as much confidence as he could muster.
  
  "No wonder you were not willing to hold this conversation in the gardens over tea! You are just another conniver, another traitor posing as the slightly naïve but oh so honourable Lord Eddard Stark. You are playing a dangerous game." She accused him.
  
  "The political games I have witnessed in the capital have taught me one important thing already, Lady Tyrell. If you play, you play to win. House Stark will prevail whatever happens in the Seven Kingdoms. In case you haven't noticed, the North has become a very powerful Kingdom in its own right. It would be in your best interest to stay on friendly terms with us."
  
  He took a deep breath and gave his ultimatum. "You have one last sennight to consider the betrothal proposal between our houses before I withdraw it completely. Oh and please remember it is still contingent upon me meeting your granddaughter and judging her a suitable match for my most excellent son and heir to the North. Perhaps you could invite me to a garden tea party after all?" He kept his expression neutral even though it had not been easy.
  
  When she didn't respond immediately, he played his last trump card. "Even though lady Margaery might not carry the title of Queen, perhaps she can be a mother to one? That is, if her children are my grandchildren as well." He had emphasised the right words and had spoken with a lot of conviction to imply that he already had some sort of future agreement in place."
  
  "I would only have your word for that since chances are that I won't be around long enough to see that generation grow into adulthood." She paused but her tone had lost some of its fighting spirit.
  
  It gave Ned hope she was really contemplating Robb for her granddaughter. Her next words however were once again meant to antagonise him.
  
  "I wonder why you are not considering the Princess Daenerys if you are so close to one of her blood?"
  
  Even though Ned was disappointed with her reaction, he saw right through her irrelevant question. Princess Daenerys of her own accord was no asset to the North. She was probably just trying to get him to reveal what he happened to know about this rumoured dragonrider. Most likely she was also just stalling for time or trying to rattle him.
  
  She might even be getting desperate by now because she had been unable to come up with a strategy to undermine his strong negotiating position. She wasn't aware that he had been coached by the best. He had sat through several sessions before Lord Varys had judged him capable of taking on the Queen of Thornes. He had to prevent a smile from appearing on his face when he thought of the mock discussions they had held where Varys had played the formidable part of Lady Olenna. He evaded her question as he had been coached.
  
  "That is beside the point. I thought we were discussing the future marriage of your granddaughter. If you forego my heir, perhaps your oldest grandson and heir to Highgarden might consider my eldest daughter?" he tried once more to get the conversation back on track.
  
  "Rumours are she is promised to Domeric Bolton." Lady Olenna was quick to retort.
  
  "As you said, my Lady, rumours, mere rumours. My Sansa is not betrothed yet. No agreement exists between House Bolton and House Stark."
  
  "Not even between House Stark and House Dayne? My sons do write me sometimes, you know?" She still wouldn't give an inch although her shoulders had dropped a bit.
  
  "None of my children are betrothed yet." Ned's tone left no room for doubt.
  
  "And neither is the King." She bit back.
  
  Lord Stark didn't move a muscle but in his imagination he grunted and rolled his eyes."The King has not given the matter any thought yet. He will only entertain offers once his annulment is ratified by the High Septon. Not before."
  
  "Mmmh, offers you say? So he WILL yield to the highest bidder. I heard Lord Frey offers the weight of his daughter of granddaughter of choice in gold if the King chooses a Frey bride."
  
  Her gaze that had lost some intensity over the course of the conversation was attentive once more.
  
  "I can't help but notice we are talking in circles here, Lady Tyrell. I can only repeat to you once more that if you are seriously offering up your lovely granddaughter to Robert Baratheon, I will put her at the very top of the list. Just state what you offer the King as inducement." He couldn't help feeling a bit discouraged.
  
  "I will discuss it with my son first. What about the dragons?" She tried once more to get him to betray something.
  
  "What about them, my Lady?" He tried to stay polite taking heart in the fact that the conversation was winding down. This duel was almost over and he was still standing.
  
  They do say the dragonrider has the face of a Stark." There was a curious gleam in her eyes now.
  
  "Unconfirmed rumours. It is also rumoured that the dragonrider is a sellsword in the employ of the Golden Company. Many northerners live in exile in Essos. There is even an entire contingent of Northmen that left Westeros when King Torrhen decided to kneel to Aegon the Conqueror. Not all men with grey eyes and dark hair in the realm can claim that they are a distant kin of House Stark, my Lady. You will need to make your mind up without dragons in the equation. You have a sennight. Perhaps it is time to end this conversation."
  
  "Do not presume to tell me what I need to do, Lord Hand. But I will retire now. If you would be so kind as to call my houseguards to escort me down those treacherous steps?"
  
  She rose out of her chair with difficulty, her expression of dismay showing clearly that she was not satisfied with the outcome of their discussions.
  
  Ned had not given an inch. He was sure she would not approach the King and would consider a betrothal between their houses very carefully before dismissing it offhand. He had successfully reached both goals of this meeting.
  
  Lady Olenna was de facto the head of House Tyrell and by extension of the Reach. She was not going to discuss anything with her son. That was just her way of stalling for time. She would make up her own mind and just tell poor Lord Mace Tyrell what she had decided. Varys had been right. She was an outspoken woman with high ambitions He wondered how long it would take her to make up her mind.
  
  "What are their names? I'll ask the guards outside to call for them." He wondered at the reason for the blush that appeared on her wrinkled cheeks. Little did he know that she didn't trouble herself to remember the names of her twin guards and just called them 'Left' and 'Right'.
  
  "Never mind. Your noble Stark guards I am sure will be most willing to help an old lady descend the stairs. I will manage." She swept out of the room as fast as she could, momentarily forgetting to uphold her mummery of being old and frail.
  
  "As you wish, my Lady." Ned bowed politely and watched her leave the room. When the Stark guard closed the door to his quarters he sat back down with a relieved sigh. He prayed he had struck the right tone and had somehow gotten through to her. Only time would tell.
  
  He went back to his desk and eyed the scrolls that were ordered by importance. There was the missive from Jon with nothing but good news from Dragonstone. The only thing worrying him was the delay caused by the retreat of the White Walkers to the far North.
  
  The missive from Robb was also reassuring. Apparently his younger brother was helping him deal with the more difficult issues. Robb was learning the hard way, but he would be a competent Lord of Winterfell all the sooner by it. His son implored him to write his impression of Lady Margaery Tyrell and perhaps even send him a little drawing of her if possible.
  
  He sighed when he saw the neat scroll so painstakingly written by Lord Edric of House Dayne. Sansa, his precious daughter fancied herself in love. How had he not noticed that she was a woman grown, possibly even flowered already. He had to ask Catelyn about that. His wife's last letter had hinted at an infatuation between the two young people but she had assured him she had handled it and had successfully warned both of them away from each other. She had even described how they had obviously quarreled and were avoiding each other.
  
  Well, apparently the heir to Starfall had not been deterred for long. He looked at the carefully crafted sentences where the young suitor praised Starfall as a thriving stronghold and House Dayne as a renowned noble House. He hinted at a possible future title as Sword of the Morning and last but not least at his friendship with a powerful ally, Jon Celtigar.
  
  By the way Jon's last name was written in a crooked fashion, the young man made it clear that he knew this was his greatest trump card. Ned sighed. He would at least have to inform Jon about this request before formulating his negative response to the young man.
  
  He felt a head ache coming on. Probably caused by the strain of his conversation with lady Olenna but Edric Dayne's request didn't help matters. He had this standard reply he sent out to everyone who petitioned for a betrothal with Sansa but he knew better than to just send that to the young Lord. He only wondered if Jon would let him decide the outcome of this delicate matter for himself. He would have a problem with it if his nephew didn't.
  
  Finally his eye fell on the list he was trying to put together for King Robert. Varys had done a great job stalling the annulment but that didn't deter the King from enquiring about the number of viable candidates every time they saw each other. Ned grabbed the scrolls containing the newly arrived offers and added the names of maidens and promised dowries to the large scroll one by one before putting the original petitions into the top drawer of his imposing desk.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon meets Varys. He struggles with his ever growing feelings for Dany and takes a risk. In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Bran being fostered by Howland Reed.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Risk assessment
  Chapter 23: Risk assessment
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon meets Varys. He struggles with his growing feelings for Dany and takes a risk.
  
  In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Bran being fostered by Howland Reed.
  
  Notes:
  
  With the assistance of my inspiring beta Ravenousreadr, I worked hard to give you another chapter of this story. Enjoy!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon had indeed flown solo to the Driftmark. He hadn't asked Dany along because it was not a mere social call to his foster grandmother. He had scheduled a secret meeting with Lord Varys as well. Besides he could do without her distracting presence for a while. It would free up some of his energy to concentrate on the matters he wanted to discuss with Varys.
  
  Every night he went to bed drained by the effort of keeping up the pretence of just being her friend and considerate next of kin. Every morning he attended a gruelling training session to tire himself out physically in an effort to keep his body from reacting too enthusiastically when Dany greeted him at lunch where they usually saw each other for the first time. He didn't know how long he could keep up with this.
  
  The only upside was that he was exhausted in the evenings and slept very deep. He didn't remember any dreams come morning. He could also feel the muscles in his arms and legs grow thicker and stronger. Ser Gerold was once more proving his worth. The routines he put Jon through were varied enough to keep him motivated and at the same time garnered the wanted results. This morning was the first day that he had skipped his morning training to spend the entire day at the Driftmark.
  
  He had postponed telling her about this short trip because he hated to disappoint her should she ask to come along. He had intended to say goodbye to her moments before he left but Ser Barristan had been the only one who had answered his request for her presence when he came out to the cliff to inform him that the Princess had slept later than usual. Jon doubted that was the case though since Ser Barristan had avoided his questioning look. He had flown off casting a look in the direction of her windows but hadn't been able to discern if she was watching him fly away.
  
  He worried that she would be as isolated on Dragonstone as she had been on Pentos when he left to fight the dead beyond the Wall. Her Septa didn't seem like the most entertaining companion. She looked more like a religious ornament to the room than a real flesh and blood person. The few times Jon had seen her, she had hardly spoken five words to him beyond the formal greeting. A neutral mask seemed plastered on her face at all times. Jon hesitated to interfere in that part of Dany's life though. Once more he cursed the fact that his upbringing had been predominantly in male company. It had not given him enough insight in a noble woman's daily life and needs.
  
  He left his dragons at the cave where they had spent several years and enjoyed the long walk to the settlement. The weather was nice although the wind blew rather strong from the east. He had his dark hair pulled into a knot to keep the wind from blowing his curls in his face. By the time he neared the settlement, his mind was relaxed and he felt ready to tackle the tasks he had set himself for today.
  
  He greeted Jekken when he passed the little workshop. The man dropped what he was doing to make a low bow to Jon.
  
  "My Prince," he murmured reverently.
  
  Jon hid his sigh from Jekken. The news of his new status as ruling Prince of Dragonstone was common knowledge at the Driftmark. His dragonride with Dany almost two sennight before had only confirmed what they had found out as soon as Ser Gerold and his forces had landed at the Driftmark before making their move on Dragonstone. Many had suspected for years that he was not just friendly Jon Celtigar growing up amongst them.
  
  "Good morning, Jekken. How is business these days?" He tried to deal with the man as he had always done before.
  
  "Better than ever, my Prince! People from Dragonstone are coming here to visit the settlement where their Prince grew up and trained his dragons. I have been making small souvenirs."
  
  The man pointed at metal images of dragons. A few of them even had a tiny rider on them.
  
  Jon touched one with his fingers that looked remarkably like Rhaegal. He frowned but softened his features when he saw the blacksmith's apprehensive look in response to his reaction.
  
  "I hope you approve, my Prince. Have I displeased you? I admit that I boasted you were a regular customer and almost a friend. But I meant no harm. I do not charge much more than what it costs to make them and I ask them not to show these figurines to anyone on the mainland before, uh, you know." The man was wringing his hands now, clearly frightened that he had overstepped.
  
  "Please do not worry, Jekken. You did nothing wrong. Not if you sell to people from Dragonstone. That is not the reason I was frowning. I was just wondering how you got the metal to get that greenish hue." Jon explained giving him a reassuring look.
  
  "I made them using a metal called bronze. It is not as strong as the metal I use to create weapons and I stopped making household tools with it because these can turn green when exposed to moist environments and us being on an island, well, uh, you know."
  
  The man was clearly not used to making long speeches. He handed a bronze miniature version of Rhaegal to his Prince and looked at him with pleading eyes. "This is the first real profit I have been able to make from that material in ages, my Prince. People are delighted by the green colour of these little objects now instead of complaining and asking their coin back when a cup turns green."
  
  "Well, then I can only congratulate you on coming up with this idea. How much do you charge for this one? I want to buy it as a present for the Princess Daenerys." Jon smiled attempting once more to soothe the man's nerves.
  
  "Lovely lady, if I am allowed to say so, my Prince. I saw her when you flew low over the beach the other day. She has the Valyrian look all right. Are her eyes purple as well? You were still too high up so I couldn't tell." The blacksmith's face had lightened up the moment he heard Jon mention the Princess.
  
  "They are, Jekken. They are the most beautiful purple eyes I have ever seen." He hoped he wasn't blushing when he realised what he had just told the blacksmith. He cleared his throat. "How much do I owe you, Jekken?"
  
  "Oh no, my Prince. No charge for you. Just give the Princess my compliments and tell her that we all would like for her to come visit us when things settle down."
  
  The blacksmith took the trinket from Jon' hands and wrapped it in a piece of cloth. "Here you go, my Prince."
  
  "Then I thank you very much. I will bring her one day. And I promise to introduce you to her so you can show her around in your shop. I must leave you now though. My foster grandmother will be expecting me." Jon put the small package in his pocket and left a very happy blacksmith who watched his Prince walk with determined strides to the small building.
  
  'The most beautiful purple eyes', the man thought, 'Targaryens really have a thing for one another.'
  
  The visits with his foster grandmother always went almost identically to the previous ones. She would greet him warmly and enquire after his health. Then they would share a simple meal and afterwards she would ask if he was King already and if not when he planned to be. This time she was fairly satisfied when he told her he was making progress and was officially inaugurated as Prince of Dragonstone.
  
  Her next question inevitably was whether he was finally betrothed. A negative answer always made her enquire after the lovely Princess Daenerys and if she had found another husband yet because her blind oaf of a grandson couldn't make up his mind. He always distracted her at that point by reaching for her box with letters and the rest of the visit he read out loud to her, mostly from a selection of Wylla's letters. After all these years, his former wet nurse still wrote faithfully to her.
  
  This time she requested him to read some of his own letters out loud to her. Letters he had written when he was still rather young from his first years at Greywater Watch. Jon was a bit embarrassed to read the childish things he had written back then although some brought back some half-forgotten happy memories of his childhood. Besides he didn't mind doing her that favour knowing full well her deteriorating eyesight made it impossible to read them herself and the elderly widow that kept her company in the afternoons wasn't allowed to touch the cherished letters of her grandson.
  
  They spent half of the day together and had a lovely time reminiscing. Once more she declined when he asked her if she wanted to visit Dragonstone or even wished to live there with him now. "You don't move an old tree either," she had answered her mind firmly made up.
  
  He walked the small distance to the tavern where Varys would probably already be waiting for him. The visit to his grandmother had lasted a little longer than originally planned. When he turned the corner and spotted the town square, he stopped in his tracks. It seemed the entire settlement and everyone else they had been able to reach in time had gathered there to catch a glimpse of their very own Prince.
  
  Jon smiled shyly, a bit at a loss for how to deal with this situation. Then he saw the owner of the tavern hurrying over to him.
  
  "My Prince," the man bowed low. "I placed my wagon right over there. If you climb on it everyone will be able to see you a bit better. Think of the smaller children standing at the back of the crowd. Perhaps you would be willing to oblige us with a small speech?"
  
  Jon thanked the man and asked him to inform his guest that he would be somewhat delayed. It would indeed be ungrateful to leave these people without giving them a bit of his attention.
  
  "Do not worry, my Prince. He knows. The entire settlement has been alerted to your presence. We all helped Jekken spread the word so we could give you the welcome you are due. Your guest helped as well. Apparently he has several contacts here at our small island."
  
  When Jon didn't offer an immediate reply the man was happy enough to continue his servile ramblings. "A most curious fellow, I must tell you. He didn't offer his name but I think I know who he is, my Prince. Just as we have always had strong suspicions that you were more than a simple Lord, if you excuse my saying so, my Prince." The man made another low bow.
  
  Jon had willed himself to stay patient and hear the man out but was glad he finally left after receiving a benign nod from 'his Prince'. A moon and a half earlier he had spoken to a lot of the locals when he stayed here for two days to pick up the dragonglass. But just as he had noticed on Dragonstone, the fact that he was now officially the ruling Prince of Dragonstone and had been confirmed as the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and rightful heir to the Iron Throne made an enormous difference to his loyal following on these two islands.
  
  Jon wasted no more time and climbed the wagon. The crowd cheered loudly when he took the time to wave and smile in every direction. He made a short speech thanking them for accepting him in their midst during his younger years. He would never forget the kindness they had shown simple Jon Celtigar. He repeated that the Driftmark would always feel a little bit like home to him and vowed to always keep their interests at heart.
  
  As expected, loud cheers erupted once more. When he was sure they had calmed down enough to hear him once more he promised to visit with Princess Daenerys at his side somewhere in the near future. As soon as he had finished, his short speech was received with even more benevolence and genuine warmth than the one he had held in the throne room of Dragonstone. The cheers and well wishes from the crowd didn't let up.
  
  Not wanting to make Lord Varys wait any longer than necessary, Jon decided to climb off the wagon. He was glad that the crowd respected his personal space and only a few children approached him to hand him some hastily fashioned drawing or a modest bouquet of wildflowers. He accepted all the offerings thanking them warmly, waved with the hand holding the flowers one last time and quickly entered the tavern where the owner intercepted him in the doorway.
  
  Instead of leading him to the large public room, the man opened a door to his left that led to a small space. Jon figured it was a private room used as a kind of study where the owner kept his business papers. It contained a desk a cupboard and two chairs near a tiny fire place. One chair was already occupied when Jon entered and ordered a pint of ale for himself and a refill for his guest. He put the small bouquet of flowers and the few drawings on the small desk. Only then did he bestow his attention upon the Master of Whisperers.
  
  Both men had to adjust their mental image of the other. Jon had not expected the man who had secretly but very efficiently supported him all these years to look so effeminate. The man wore rich silks and velvets, soft colourful slippers adorned his feet and he smelled like a woman. He hid his surprise by immediately offering a greeting. "Well met, Lord Varys."
  
  "My King," his guest bowed, "I would kneel but am afraid I wouldn't be able to get up without embarrassing myself and needing assistance. Please do not doubt that I am your most devoted subject."
  
  "I thank you, Lord Varys. Uncle Ned repeatedly told me as much. I also read the reports you regularly sent to me. I can only begin to imagine how much time and effort you have put into hiding my existence from the Baratheon King and his allies. I do not doubt your loyalty. I am very grateful to have your support and hope that I may continue to count on it for many years to come. Our meeting has been long overdue. It is my honour to finally make your acquaintance, my Lord."
  
  "I can only echo your last words, my King. I was honoured to receive your request for this meeting. A highly necessary one, I might add. You are wise beyond your years, my young King."
  
  They halted their conversation when the owner himself entered the small room with a large pint of ale for Jon and pitcher of wine to refill Varys' cup at his own leisure. He put everything on a small stool that he had brought along with him to act as a makeshift table.
  
  "I hope the ale will be to your liking, my Prince." The man bowed when Jon nodded his thanks and left the room closing the door once more behind him.
  
  Jon held his pint in the air to make a silent toast. Lord Varys mimicked his gesture and both men drank deeply.
  
  "Giving a speech can be thirsty work, my King. It was a wonderful experience to witness your popularity with my own eyes." He put his cup next to Jon's large pint.
  
  Jon studied Lord Varys a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead. "I am glad you agreed to meet me on such short notice, but I didn't ask for you to come all this way just to have another person flatter me, Lord Varys. I have asked you here to hear your uncensored reports and advice. I want a realistic appraisal of the political situation in King's Landing and news from the rest of the realm as well if you have the necessary intelligence. Written reports are always kept concise. Words need to be carefully considered and do not offer one the opportunity to exchange unfinished ideas or statements. I figured talking face to face would help both of us obtain a fresh perspective. Besides, it is easier to understand what a person is trying to convey if you know of his disposition, his personality."
  
  "My King?"
  
  "I'm sorry if I am not expressing myself clearly. Perhaps an example might work. If Sandor Clegane tells me there is a fucking issue but I do not need to move my nice ass because he will fucking deal with it, I know the matter needs no further thought. The reason for that is that I trust his outspokenness. He will not spare me and tell me to my face without hesitation or restraint that I need to deal with something or that I 'fucked' up. He only does that if that is really the case. Please excuse me for the crude language."
  
  "No apology needed, my King. Please continue."
  
  "If Ser Davos comes to me and tells me respectfully there is a small issue that he hesitates to trouble me with, I immediately become worried. From him that means that there is something rather important going on and he has to admit he isn't sure his solution will be efficient enough and the issue will require my full attention belying the initial impression that his words would give someone who isn't familiar with Ser Davos' turn of phrase."
  
  "I see, my King. And now you want to study me to find out if I am truthful when I flatter you or what I mean exactly when I use terms such as minor issue, a standard problem or a major disaster?"
  
  "Kind of. As Master of Whispers you are certainly aware that written words reveal less than spoken ones. A person's tone of voice, his entire demeanour can be very revealing."
  
  Jon paused and cocked his head a little, a twinkle in his eyes. "Although in your case, I have been warned that you use a sing song voice and act somewhat obsequious to hide the true meaning behind your words and deeds."
  
  "I try to confuse my enemies, my King. I hope I will never have to use these tricks on you." Varys answered staying very serious.
  
  "If ever you think you need to, I want you to contact me and voice your concerns. I have the welfare of the people in mind, just as you do. I have revealed enough of my ambitions to make you understand that our interests are aligned. But just as Sandor Clegane does, I expect you to call me on it if you ever think I am losing sight of our goals."
  
  "A most commendable attitude, my King."
  
  "I thought I already asked you to refrain from flattering me, Lord Varys. And please, call me 'my Prince' if you insist on using a title to address me. I am no King yet. For now I am just the Prince of Dragonstone."
  
  "Then I'll keep my thoughts on your excellent worth to myself for now, my Prince." Varys obliged the young man who was so different to what he had expected. "Still it needs to be said that I admire your strategy, your goals and certainly your caution and restraint. But no more on that subject, I am glad you summoned me. It is long overdue we had this talk. I wished to talk to the man in charge very badly. I need to establish once and for all how I am allowed to comport myself when dealing with the Hand of King Robert."
  
  Jon's frown made Varys pause. Jon had to urge him on. "Please continue Lord Varys. I am interested to hear what your issue with my uncle is exactly."
  
  "At King Robert's court Lord Stark is my superior and I need to defer to him in all matters. It is different when we are advancing your cause. He and I are equals in our dealings then and second to you. I already have had to intervene when Lord Stark makes, or is about to make mistakes. I wanted to get your 'stamp of approval' shall we say to go against your uncle going as far as to sabotage him openly or behind his back if necessary."
  
  Jon didn't reply immediately. He sometimes struggled to find the right balance when dealing with his uncle as well. The man was honourable, a good leader but sometimes his strict code of conduct blinded him to the harsh reality and possible dangerous consequences when faced with opponents that did not adhere to the same noble standards. He had a great admiration for Lord Stark however and owed him his life, his current position and the bulk of his assets.
  
  He masked the fact that he was searching for words by sipping from his ale. He lowered his pint and looked at Lord Varys. "I have the greatest respect for my uncle. He is honourable to a fault and means well. His honour however compels him to think and act a bit too rigid at times and he might overlook the long term effects of his actions."
  
  He put the large cup on the makeshift table and leaned a bit closer to Lord Varys to lend extra meaning to his words. "Everyone needs help or a guiding hand to look at all the angles, to keep the right perspective of things, Lord Varys. I myself must admit that I greatly miss my Hand and some other loyal advisers that are not on Dragonstone right now."
  
  Jon sighed, sat back and thought of how much he wanted to talk to Davos and Uncle Benjen about his dilemma with Dany. He needed their fatherly advice more than hearing about the political repercussions of the matter. He startled when a discreet cough of Lord Varys brought him back to the present.
  
  "My apologies, Lord Varys. My thoughts were on a matter I need to discuss with Davos Seaworth who is currently unavailable being at sea for a few sennights. To get back to the subject of my uncle, might I ask you to bear in mind that Lord Stark has been thrown into a strange environment and is dealing with it as best as he can. He needs reliable advisers to help him. I trust you to strike the right balance and advise Lord Stark as much as possible."
  
  Jon's tone was resolute when he granted the requested authority to Varys. "If he ignores you, is about to make a major mistake and there is no time to confer with me, of course I trust you to handle it and even 'sabotage' him, but always try to do so with respect and explain to my uncle why you did it when the opportunity presents itself."
  
  Jon noticed Vary's small nod of acknowledgement and suddenly felt the urge to defend his uncle some more. "Lord Stark is not an unreasonable man. I have experienced firsthand how he was able to admit a mistake to a boy less than half his age and rectified his behaviour on the spot. My uncle is a good man and will always try to do what is right. It is our job to make him see what is right and what hurts our cause." He added diplomatically.
  
  "I repeat once more, Lord Varys, even though I have only met you in person today, years of witnessing the positive results of your help be it by stopping or manipulating rumours or thwarting our enemies, have made me trust you implicitly."
  
  Lord Varys bowed his head in thanks. "And I vow here and now never to betray your trust, my Prince, my future King. I will count the days until I am allowed to call you 'my King', or 'your Grace' ."
  
  "Thank you. Aside from the topic we discussed, I trust my uncle is well?"
  
  "Lord Stark is well enough. He envied my coming here. He would very much like to see you again. Oh, before I forget, he asked me to give you the sapling of a weirwood tree he brought from Winterfell at your request. It is still at the docks. It will be loaded on a small fishing boat that is scheduled to leave for Dragonstone tomorrow at first light."
  
  "Thank you, Lord Varys. That is welcome news. I miss the quiet sanctuary of a Godswood." He quickly staved off Lord Varys' remark by adding, "Don't worry, I am well acquainted with the Seven Pointed Star and will respect its followers and take an active part in all necessary ceremonies expected of me if I become the King of the Seven Kingdoms." The faintest of smiles came to Jon's lips.
  
  "When, my Prince. When not if." Lord Varys replied with a ghost of a smile of his own.
  
  Jon bowed his head demurely in acknowledgment of that statement. "I believe we were on the subject of my uncle though? You were about to tell me how he was doing?"
  
  "That is correct, my Prince. Forgive me for getting off topic. For now our Lord Hand is doing his best to keep King Robert distracted with minor matters. Normal life in the capital has resumed now that all the turmoil that Littlefinger's trial and execution have caused is behind us. When the smallfolk get excited, somehow bar fights and riots in the street become more frequent and more violent. But the King still insisted on staging a big show on the steps before the Sept of Bailor."
  
  "The execution went smoothly? I mean uh" Jon stammered not wanting Lord Varys to think he was greedily asking for a bloody tale. "What I meant to ask was if he didn't cause another scandal when he was given the opportunity to speak his last words?"
  
  Lord Varys didn't react to the slight discomfort of the young Prince and answered as sedate as was he wont. "I understand your question. Your uncle and I had the very same concern, my Prince. In the end, I must concede that Petyr Baelish met his fate with dignity. When he was offered the chance to speak some last words, he uttered a prayer for his soul and his legacy. No bitter outburst, nor shrieks about dragons. We we're all relieved when that moment had come and gone."
  
  Jon nodded and mentally classified that issue as handled for good. His mind was already sorting through his other issues. Varys' presence here was proof that Uncle Ned was not that far away. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to discuss Edric's wishes with his uncle in person. He spoke up. "Do you think it might be possible that I visit the capital incognito as Lord Celtigar and meet with my uncle somewhere out of sight? There is a rather personal matter I want to discuss with him and I could use that opportunity to talk to him about his dealings with King Robert myself."
  
  "I do not think that is wise, my Prince. Anyone who sees you and Lord Stark together might get suspicious. And now that I see how much you resemble your uncle, I understand the existence of these rumours a bit better. Lord Baelish's words at his trial about the dragonrider being a son of Brandon Stark have not been forgotten. If you really want to talk to your uncle, perhaps we should let the Hand of the King make a small trip? I do not know how soon this can be arranged without making anyone suspicious though."
  
  Jon was already rethinking the matter and would wait for Davos' arrival before making that decision. "Can you describe to me how relations are between the King and my uncle?" Jon asked glad to finally hear another perspective.
  
  "They are rather cordial, I am afraid. The King is still mostly on his best behaviour even if he has taken up whoring again as well as consuming wine. Just not in the excessive quantities he drank before. I take heart in the fact that his newly found resolutions are weakening."
  
  "How long do we have before he seeks a new betrothal?"
  
  "He is already seeking one, my Prince. The better question is: how long can we thwart him? I have convinced the High Septon that annulling a King's marriage is a delicate thing and should be watertight. I have asked him to consult with the Citadel and have the annulment papers signed by several Archmaesters just to make sure nobody can discredit the document."
  
  Varys winked at the Targaryen Prince. "Of course my little birds have delayed the message a bit and have sown a slight discord between the Archmaesters delaying the annulment as long as remains plausible. In case you were wondering, the main argument of the Maesters opposing the annulment is that they have only the King's and the former Queen's word that she has this hereditary disease and that her children are likewise afflicted. No Maester has been allowed to examine any of the persons involved so there is no real proof. They are being asked to make this far reaching decision solely on the testimony of the King, a King who is not impartial to the outcome of the matter."
  
  "How many suitable brides have already flocked to the capital? Have you done anything to delay them and their demands?"
  
  Jon was curious to hear how creative Varys would be when dealing with young members of the opposite sex. The man might be efficient. His peculiar outlook and sing song voice made it difficult for Jon to remain convinced that he had a highly competent man sitting in front of him. Perhaps that was part of his success though, making his enemies underestimate him.
  
  "The most prominent candidate is Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. I have sent an invitation to Princess Arianne of House Martell but I am not at all certain that House Martell will set one foot closer to the capital than they absolutely have to, except for Prince Oberyn of course. But female attendance at court has certainly increased. Every noble Lord who has a daughter of an acceptable age to marry the King is here or in the process of travelling to King's Landing."
  
  Jon thought he almost saw Varys roll his eyes. He quickly focussed back on the man's words.
  
  "The small council however has convinced the King that it is bad manners to openly look for a new wife when still married. Their opinion is that secret negotiations are also not to be undertaken yet, since nothing stays a secret in the Capital for long and the King should avoid creating a scandal. All words of the small council of course." Again Lord Varys winked.
  
  "I have also been successful in distracting the King somewhat. He won't be asking for a progress report twice a day anymore. I found a suitable whore who is on her way to become his only bed partner. She has him convinced that she loves him and that it hurts her when he seeks satisfaction with other whores. For the moment the King is somewhat under her spell. He will still want to marry a highborn Lady and sire an heir, but he is no longer that upset with a delay of several moons." Varys' lips only twitched at first but the smile broke on his face when Jon chuckled.
  
  "Between you and Prince Oberyn, I do not know who would get the trophy for best schemer." Jon's smile widened.
  
  "Oh, there are still a few other candidates for that title, I am sure. But to get back to the matter at hand, the Tyrells have not made overtures. In fact, Mace Tyrell has been talking to Lord Stark about terms for a betrothal between Robb Stark and his daughter Margaery. It could be nothing more than a distraction. Lady Olenna plays the game as no other. But it could also be that the rumours we have spread about the King no longer being able to sire children and the convenient existence of grown up male bastards has made her think twice."
  
  "Which rumour did you spread, the hunting accident or the sexual disease?" Jon was curious to see which of his suggestions had been used.
  
  "Both rumours of course and they are spreading fast. As usually is the case, the person concerned is shielded from them and has not the slightest clue. Nobody dares confront the King." Varys stated matter of fact but an approving look was directed at the young man in front of him. "That was an excellent suggestion, my Prince."
  
  "I try." Jon said in a dry tone and both men laughed.
  
  "That you do, my Prince. Word about you may not have reached the capital yet, but it has reached my ears. Word about your treatment of the smallfolk everywhere you go but more specifically word of your treatment of the Baratheon loyalists locked up in Dragonstone. Allow me to say that I am most impressed."
  
  Jon looked a bit flustered and changed the topic. "How long do you think we can conceal the news of the Targaryen occupation of Dragonstone and the Driftmark from King Robert?" Jon asked.
  
  "All will depend on the loyalty of the inhabitants on both Dragonstone and the Driftmark."
  
  When Jon wanted to intervene, Varys waved his hand. "I know the people there are loyal to you. But I also know from experience it only takes one disgruntled person, one greedy man, woman or child. Rumours and loyalties are a fickle thing, my Prince. It is impossible to answer that question. My advice to you is not to wait too long. However, if you decide on a timeline, give me fair warning. I might have to speed up discrediting King Robert in the eyes of the smallfolk if need be."
  
  "I suppose I do not want to know?" Jon asked a bit uncomfortable, giving him a brief look before averting his eyes.
  
  "Better not, my Prince. It will make everyone's reaction the more genuine for it." Varys replied.
  
  "The King has asked questions about the increased number of ships that have been spotted sailing towards both islands. I have been spinning tales to divert his attention, but King Robert is not a fool, when he is sober, that is."
  
  "How is the list of Targaryen loyalists in the capital and the Crownlands coming along? Will I be able to count on some support from the noble houses?"
  
  "It is growing a bit larger almost every day. Ser Gerold's and Ser Oswell's input has been invaluable in this regard. But it is slow going. We need to tread carefully when we approach possible new allies. One word to the wrong person and your cause is exposed and our lives in danger."
  
  The Masters of Whispers continued his report when he saw his Prince's acknowledging nod. "Lord Stark and I are working very hard to put together a force that can gather around you the moment you step into King's Landing to stake your claim. Lord Stark has his extensive houseguard he brought with him when he travelled south to replace the Lannister guards and in the city small groups of allies from the Riverlands and the North have been arriving. We are doing everything we can to be ready soon. We have used the pretext of nobles bringing their sisters, daughters or granddaughters to the capital several times already."
  
  "How do you think the smallfolk will react to my claim? Will they view me as a needed change, a welcome return of the rightful ruler or will they perceive me as a threat, as a usurper? Perhaps it is prudent to spread vague rumours of my deeds throughout Fleabottom and other populated areas?"
  
  Varys looked away. The man was clearly embarrassed. "I am sorry, my Prince. I might have been remiss in not telling you but I did not think it was constructive to give you the latest status of the rumours regarding the dragonrider."
  
  Jon eyed him speculatively wondering what could be this bad that Varys would not volunteer the information. "I would rather like to know, Lord Varys. That way I can come prepared and will not be taken by surprise and perhaps unable to efficiently hide my disappointment. Tell me. I reckon it is not good news?" His tone made it clear he all but ordered Varys to speak.
  
  "It is not, my Prince. I am trying to counter them but without revealing all and alerting King Robert to your existence, there is little I can achieve it seems. Someone is spreading rumours about terrifying dragons breathing fire and burning through people and ships as if it is nothing. As things are standing now, the smallfolk will panic at the first sight of a dragon. I am a bit at a loss."
  
  "Someone? Any idea who?" Jon asked taken aback.
  
  "Only guesses. Nothing concrete. I feel as if I am failing you, my Prince." Varys no longer kept his head down though. Jon could almost hear the man think his way to a possible solution.
  
  "There is still time to turn the tide. I will think on it." Jon's voice sounded firm. This was not his biggest problem anyway. "Perhaps a delegation from Dragonstone and the Driftmark should visit King's Landing and tell their version of the story as soon as I arrive. Between the two of us and my advisers, we will come up with other countermeasures." Jon elected not to stress once more that he wanted to be kept appraised of such things. He was certain Lord Varys had gotten the message loud and clear and would not make the same mistake twice.
  
  "For now we will double our efforts to smuggle enough men in the capital to act as your protection detail." Apparently Lord Varys had already bounced back and was thinking constructively. The man was a useful asset. Once more Jon was grateful that for some reason the Master of Whispers had chosen to support his side all those years ago.
  
  "Do not forget I have an entire fleet with thousands of men at my disposal. There are several possibilities. I want every angle covered and no bloodshed if at all possible. But concrete plans will have to wait. I would like for my Hand to be here and it is possible I will have to deal with the situation beyond the Wall first."
  
  "We will be ready, my Prince. I am just uncomfortable about the absence of news from the Stormlands." Lord Varys fidgeted with his hands, the only outward sign of his discomfort."
  
  "We have not heard back from Lord Dondarrion or Thoros of Myr. Our greenseer's visions of that area are still blocked. You have made no progress either?" Jon asked. The situation in the Stormlands was also one of his worries.
  
  "My little birds have not reported back and what is worse, they seemed to have vanished into thin air. I am hesitant to send others. I will not endanger my young spies if it can be helped I fear the red priestess in service of Lord Baratheon is some kind of greenseer as well and can sniff them out just as Lord Reed helped us with exposing Littlefinger's spies these last few years. You should fear for the safety of Lord Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr." Varys cautioned.
  
  "There is nothing we can do for them now. We have no means of contacting them. They volunteered and went on their own accord." Jon sighed. "Is that is the only region that troubles you? I still am not sure about the Iron Islands, Dorne, The Rock and the Reach. Neither of them is likely to declare for my side as far as I know. The other Kingdoms are firmly on board."
  
  "Yohn Royce has declared for you then?" Varys asked pleasantly surprised?
  
  "If he hasn't, he will soon. Uncle Ned should have gotten him past the last hurdle after I laid the groundwork." Jon gave himself credit for once.
  
  "I withheld a petition from Lord Walder of House Frey. King Robert is already looking for ways to punish house Frey for conspiring with Peter Baelish. Trouble in the Riverlands will not help our cause."
  
  Jon frowned. "What did Walder Frey want from the King? Perhaps he has a daughter or a granddaughter at the ready to marry the King?"
  
  "More than one, I am sure. I reckon he will give the King the pick of the lot and offer their weight in gold as a dowry. But that was not the content of the scroll. House Frey officially petitioned to replace House Tully in the Riverlands. I think Lord Frey has gone mad or something, sending this petition now that Lord Stark is Hand of the King. I wonder if this is still the remnants of a last hurray of Littlefinger, his last attempt at creating chaos in that region." Varys sat comfortably in his chair marvelling at the sight of the young man in front of him.
  
  Jon however was still mentally cataloguing the possible hindrances to his plans. "We also need to keep a close eye on House Bolton. I am sure Lord Bolton has not given up on his ambitions. With Robb still rather new at governing such a large kingdom we need to stay vigilant. Chaos in the North will weaken our cause considerably."
  
  "It was wise of you the send your other uncle his way." Lord Varys remarked a bit gleeful when he saw the young man startle at his words.
  
  "How did you know I was behind that?" Jon had been convinced that he had handled that as subtle as he could.
  
  "My birds in Winterfell heard Benjen talk to himself in his quarters. Do not worry, my Prince. Not only are they very discreet, I do not think they understand the real meaning of the things they report to me. Just think of it as a puzzle. If you have only a few pieces, you can't see what it represents. If you have been able to assemble most of them, you can image the rest and get the full picture. My little birds are trained to remember the exact words even if they do not understand their meaning."
  
  "Well, I want my Cousin Robb to be respected by the Lords of the North and making it public that he already had some trouble after only a few moons wouldn't help his position."
  
  "Nobody will hear a thing from me, my Prince." Varys reassured the young Prince. "Now, can you tell me about that dangerous enemy in the north? It will help me understand why our cause has been delayed. You know, the one everyone thought never existed and was just a figment of a fairy tale teller's imagination? I am told you killed an ice creature yourself?"
  
  Jon obliged him by describing his rescue of Uncle Benjen telling the normal version, not the enhanced one Tormund and himself had playacted several times in front of a bonfire at the Free Folk settlement. He did go into detail when describing the way of life of the Free Folk and their predicament.
  
  "The problem is that the White Walkers and their army of the dead have retreated to the far north for some mysterious reason of their own. It will take them a moon and a half to reach the nearest Wildling settlement once they start moving. We do not know how important time is for these creatures nor how slowly their soldiers decay."
  
  Jon shifted slightly in his chair when his mind, unsolicited, conjured up those foul images. "Trust me when I say that the wights are stinking, rotting corpses who mindlessly obey their masters. What if somehow they know that they are creating trouble for me in Westeros and are just toying with me, with us and biding their time? Perhaps I should take the gamble and change my priorities once more. If I take the throne first, I could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against them."
  
  "My Prince," Varys started.
  
  "I know, Lord Varys" Jon prevented Lord Varys from intervening. He took a deep breath. "I do realise that it will not be a straightforward victory. I will not have full control of all Kingdoms without a few struggles at best, a war on my hands at worst. I just pray that this respite lasts long enough for Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur to arrive. I want to make such important decisions with their support and advice. I have a feeling that there is no good choice here. Unfortunately I am only one person and my presence or it is perhaps more accurate to say, the presence of my dragons is paramount to both causes."
  
  "And I always say 'a decision is only as good as the information upon which it is based'. Let everyone, all your allies gather as much information they can and then you sit down, hopefully with your trusted Hand at your disposal. I know I am undermining my own field of experience but also make sure that you consult that greenseer of yours once more. Leave no stone unturned in your quest for information. And then, clear your mind and look at everything as if you see it for the first time. Trust your instincts, my young Prince. They have not led you wrong so far."
  
  Jon stayed silent, thinking about his own greenseeing ambitions and the risks they involved. Varys was wrong about his instincts though. He had made several mistakes already, starting with the attack on the pirate ship. The rest of Varys' advice sounded wise enough if he had ample time before a decision needed to be reached. It always came down to time and timing.
  
  "Perhaps I should tell you about the proposition I have received from Yara Greyjoy." Jon changed the subject once more and proceeded to tell a rather impressed Master of Whispers of all his dealings with the Ironborn and Strickland, the captain-general of the Golden Company.
  
  After the more serious topics were dealt with, both men enquired after the other's life story. Somehow the conversation circled back to the Hand of the King.
  
  "Did you hear about the bet Eddard Stark made with King Robert?" Varys asked the young Prince.
  
  "I do not think so?" Jon replied uncertain that he knew what the Master of Whisperers was referring to.
  
  "Well our Lord Hand won a prize stallion of the King when Prince Oberyn accepted the seat on the small council. Our Dornish friend even accepted it personally instead of sending a representative of Dorne to represent him."
  
  "I didn't hear about that. I bet you though that Uncle Ned will not take possession of the King's horse. Just Robert Baratheon's admitting defeat will be enough to satisfy my uncle."
  
  "We'll see. I'll keep you informed, my Prince."
  
  Both men startled when the innkeeper entered the room to light a few candles. Jon realising that it was growing late quickly ended the meeting after that and said goodbye to Varys. He apologized that he was not able to stay for supper but he didn't want to make his Kingsguard worry unduly. He had specifically promised Ser Gerold to be back before dark. Ser Gerold on his part had agreed not to send someone by boat to guard him. Jon wanted to keep his side of the bargain and needed to fly back immediately.
  
  Varys took his leave from the Targaryen Prince with a low bow and sat back down as he watched the young man disappear. Aegon Targaryen was not at all what he had expected. Lord Stark had given an accurate description of his features but when the Lord Hand talked about the Prince it was always as one talks about one's child.
  
  Lord Varys had not expected the Prince to be so mature and grown up. He had supposed his assertive letters had been written with the help of his advisers. It had been a pleasant surprise. The Targaryen Prince had a firm head on his shoulders and even though the influence of House Stark was clearly present, the Prince was an honourable, well educated, open minded person. He was already more sophisticated, more familiar with the grey areas of real life than his uncle who was more than two times his senior.
  
  Varys always wanted more knowledge. Not having the constitution to accompany the Prince to his dragons but wanting to know more about the young man's interactions with his large flying beasts, he had ordered a little bird to follow the Targaryen Prince from a distance. The young boy had been ordered to keep well out of sight since he knew exactly where the Prince was headed. The boy knew what details to look out for and would bring him a detailed account as soon as possible.
  
  What Varys could do himself was watch from the town's square, amidst several townsfolk how the Prince disappeared from sight. He could only see a small figure atop a green dragon from this distance but that sight alone was impressive enough.
  
  He knew his little spy would soon report every little detail. How the Prince mounted his dragon. If he used sign language or spoke to them in High Valyrian. Whether the beasts breathing could be heard, and so on. Even the tiniest detail would be brought to his ears. He had trained his little birds well. He went inside to wait for the young boy. These were indeed strange times, but strangely fascinating in a very good way.
  
  Later that evening, Varys stared at a small brown mushroom, a frown on his face. According to his little bird, the Prince had taken several of these back to Dragonstone. He knew they were poisonous and wondered what the young man intended to do with them. These were strange times indeed.
  
  The next day on Dragonstone things went back to normal. Jon resumed his normal training, discussed the newest scrolls from the Wall, Uncle Ned, Greywater Watch, a long one from his uncle Benjen and the lack of news from the Stormlands. He spent some time in the library with Sam and Daenerys reading the response from the Tyrells.
  
  It was a response to the one they had sent. Dany had signed a message that stated that she could not entertain their offer in good faith since she had nothing to bring to the table. The dragon or dragons were not hers. But she thanked them all the same and reassured them that she was not in need of support since she had loyal friends in the North. Lady Olenna praised her honesty and promised her support should she ever need it, 'We women need to stick together. Males have enough power as it is', were the exact words the Queen of Thorns had used in her answer.
  
  Jon went on a stroll with Dany and they did their best to keep to neutral topics. She told him how for the first time in years her life had purpose. How she enjoyed helping Sam with all the messages and that he was making progress with his fluency in High Valyrian. "I have been meaning to speak to you about something, Aegon. It is about my Septa Moelle." Daenerys addressed a topic Jon had been hesitant to broach.
  
  "Am I right in stating that she has not made Dragonstone her home?" Jon guessed.
  
  Dany nodded. She was touched that he had paid enough attention to notice that. "She has asked to be relieved of her duties and wants to return to Essos. Apparently she left some dear friends behind and as you said, life for her here is too,uh, well uh, too boring. For her, not for me." Dany added that last bit hastily.
  
  "Well you have new responsibilities in running the household, are helping our cause, assisting Sam, and taking strolls with me." He smiled hesitantly when he added that last bit. "Septa Moelle probably sits alone in her room right now. She hasn't tried to form acquaintances with anyone since arriving here. I am worried about the effects of her leaving you though. You hardly have any female company as it is." Jon frowned when he contemplated that aspect of the situation.
  
  Dany hesitated but straightened herself when she looked at him. "I must admit that I have received word from Irri, my former handmaid who stayed behind in Pentos. Her friend, the man she stayed in Essos for, has transferred his attentions to someone else and now she regrets not accompanying me to Westeros. She asked if I still would be interested in her services. I received that message the day when we, uh, when we quarrelled. I admit I sent word of my acceptance without consulting you. I expect her any day." She steeled herself ready to defend her actions.
  
  "That's wonderful news, Dany." A genuine smile lit his features. "I remember her. She was the one who lived with the Dothraki once and was sold into your services, wasn't she? I wondered why she was not with you when you arrived. That girl worshipped the ground you walked on. I reckoned she was more a friend than a servant."
  
  "Well, I was the first who treated her as a human being and not a slave. She received some recompense for her services and was allowed to pursue a relationship. I offered her her freedom. Is it any wonder that she is loyal to me?" Dany smiled tentatively. "So you will welcome her to Dragonstone? I did not overstep?"
  
  "Of course you didn't overstep, Dany. You are entitled to a royal entourage. I am a fool for not considering that before. Look who is not well versed in the traditions and lore of Westeros now. You need ladies-in-waiting. You are a royal princess." Jon's face turned pensive now.
  
  "Possibilities are limited of course since our presence here is still a secret but perhaps we could ask Lord Manderly. He has two granddaughters near your age, Wylla and Wynafryd. I could write him. Or better, I'll write the first paragraph to introduce you and then you can make the request yourself. House Manderly is a large and rich house. Lord Manderly's granddaughters will have received an excellent education and they will be well versed in Westerosi houses, history, customs, traditions, dances."
  
  He looked at her and seeing her willing to consider this another idea struck him and he became even more enthusiastic and started to talk even faster.
  
  "Oh, and if Prince Oberyn might lend you one or two daughters, not only would you be well protected but also, if you would so desire, they could teach you to wield a spear, a sword, a bow, or whichever skill you want acquire to defend yourself. Best see how we formulate that request though or all eight of his daughters might descend on Dragonstone before you know it."
  
  "Aegon," Dany put her hand on his arm to stop his momentum. "You are thinking out loud and getting ahead of yourself. Let us discuss this later in detail once we both had a chance to think this through before we make any decisions. Do not mistake me. These are all valid ideas, but we need to consider them carefully first. We have to consider all options and repercussions."
  
  She looked up at him willing him to hear her out. "Have you considered that a granddaughter of Lord Manderly might not want to acknowledge a bastard born daughter of a Dornish Prince? And I hesitate to think how she might treat Irri. And you said it yourself, we need to be circumspect when we formulate our messages. I would require both candidates' opinion on the matter. My female entourage must be a tight knit group that likes and supports each other. If not, I'd rather choose to let it just be me and Irri. So please let us postpone this topic until later and for now, let us just enjoy our walk."
  
  "I'm sorry." Jon looked a bit sheepish. "I sometimes get carried away. You are right. And you have the final say of course. Perhaps you might offer a trial period?" He shook his head. "I am sorry. I am doing it again. " He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the sea.
  
  "Dany, I officially put this matter in your hands. You decide what you think is best. If you need me to write an introduction in a message, just ask. Whenever you need my assistance or advice, I am ready to give it. But I won't interfere without your leave. I trust you to handle this matter and know you will not compromise our safety." His tone clearly indicated the subject was closed for now. Forcing his mind to dwell on another subject, he inspected the ever growing number of ships for a while. He noticed she had come up right next to him, a peaceful look on her face. "Look at our fleet. It is an amazing sight isn't it?" He broke the silence.
  
  "It is. It will be even more perfect later." Now she was the one who looked pensive. "Aegon, have you given the order to make banners and dye the sails with the Targaryen colours and the sigil of the three headed dragon yet? " She asked him.
  
  "I haven't, not personally. Perhaps one of my advisers has, but I do not think it likely. That is a good point you raise, Dany. Perhaps you can bring this up at our next meeting and with it suggestions on how to organise such an endeavour. I look forward to the day that we will be able to display our house's sigil openly once more with a lot of pride." He smiled at her grateful she had brought that up. "Thanks Dany."
  
  "Glad to help, Aegon." She looked at him briefly before turning her eyes back in front of her to the direction in which they were walking.
  
  Although they had been able to carry on a nice conversation, she still felt the lingering hurt that he hadn't taken her with him to the Driftmark. Therefore she avoided the topic and refrained from asking him after his grandmother's wellbeing. However, when they were well on their way back to the castle, it was Aegon who brought the subject up.
  
  "I would like to introduce you to my foster grandmother, Dany. She expressed the wish to get to know you. Would that be your wish as well?" He had stopped and studied her, his grey Stark eyes expressing more warmth than they had these past sennights.
  
  "I would love to meet her, Aegon. I admit to being somewhat disappointed that you visited her without me the other day." She told him keeping her tone light and friendly.
  
  "I didn't want to keep you from her. I just had more errands to run and couldn't take you with me. That reminds me. I have something for you. He handed her a small package wrapped in a brown cloth and she took it hesitantly.
  
  "You bought me a gift, Aegon?" Her eyes lit up.
  
  "Actually I didn't buy it." Seeing her immediate disappointment he amended his statement. "I wanted to buy it for you but the blacksmith, Jekken, he is a friend you see, he wouldn't accept any payment. So it is more his gift than mine. I can only take credit for wanting to procure it for you."
  
  He watched as she carefully unwrapped the trinket and his face softened when he witnessed the wonder on her face.
  
  "It is you on Rhaegal! How on earth did he make it in such detail? Green metal even! Thank you Aegon, I'll cherish it. If ever I get the chance, I want to thank the blacksmith personally. I'll carry it with me everywhere I go." She wrapped it once more in the cloth and tucked it in her side pocket.
  
  I'll take you to the Driftmark soon, I promise. I'll introduce you to my foster grandmother and we can visit Jekken's little shop." A tender look flashed over his face before he resumed a neutral expression once more.
  
  "Well, you have kept your promises so far. I pray each night that you will be able to keep all of them." She swallowed and averted her eyes. Turning away from him she added, "Perhaps we should go back inside?"
  
  "Dany," he circled around her so he faced her once more, his grey eyes bore into hers. "Dany, please don't make this any harder than it already is."
  
  "I am not the one making it hard, Aegon. That is all you. You are the one who asks for us to be in each other's company often and expects us to behave as if we are just cordial family members. You do not know how hard that is for me to do. How hard it is to keep my promise not to tempt you. And all the while fool that I am, I long for your company and I can't refuse you when you ask me to go for a walk with you."
  
  Tears welled up and she looked at the ground in an attempt to avoid his gaze. Seeing her tears only amplified the conflicting emotions that were making his stomach flutter.
  
  "Dany, look at me, please. I didn't realise it was that hard for you. What would you have me do? I thought not seeing you, ignoring you would make you feel worse. I only had the best intentions. Do not think for one instant that this is easy for me." His voice betrayed his uncertainty.
  
  "Then why, Aegon? Why do things only halfway?" She lifted her head and her beautiful violet eyes who glistened even brighter now that they were wet with unshed tears pleaded with his grey ones. Her voice was steady though when she reasoned with him.
  
  "If you are insisting on spending time together, just the two of us, with the intent of making things easier for me, why not use this precious period of grace that we are granted here on Dragonstone to actually make me feel better instead of dangling what could be before my eyes? It only makes things worse. I would feel so much better if you would just hold me in your arms for a short time, make me feel that you love me and convince me you still believe there is a chance for us."
  
  She stopped when she saw his eyes grow darker as he took a step closer. It had been a desperate plea of her. She knew full well he would not indulge her. His attitude these last sennights had been frustratingly consistent. No lingering looks, no extra warmth. She got just the same cordial treatment that Sam got. But against all odds his eyes, his beautiful eyes really looked at her now and she found herself firmly pressed against him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. She felt him breathe hard against her neck.
  
  "Never doubt that, my love. Never doubt that my every effort is spent working towards a favourable outcome for us. If only you knew..." He drew in a sharp breath and stopped mid-sentence.
  
  "What is it, Aegon?" She felt him tense and sensed his sudden agony but couldn't understand it.
  
  "I can't tell you, Dany." He almost groaned in frustration. His voice sounded forlorn when he continued. "As the Gods are my witness, I can't tell you. I can't tell anybody. It is my burden to bear. Just know that I will leave no stone unturned." He took a calming breath.
  
  "I love you Dany. I always will. I hope I do not have to marry someone other than you. My heart would betray that unhappy woman every single moment of our miserably joint lives. Never doubt that I love you and only you."
  
  He tilted her chin and gave her a desperate kiss. It was like a dam had broken and all his pent up frustration and anguish came pouring out of him. He was not gentle when he forced her lips to open for him. She didn't mind and didn't offer any resistance. She held on to him and let him take whatever he wanted from her.
  
  When he finally released her swollen lips to kiss every bit of uncovered skin he could find, she willingly tilted her head backwards to grant him easier access to the soft skin below her chin and the neckline of her dress. His left hand found its way to her lower back and he pressed his body against hers. She could feel his hard member and realised that she had been wrong to doubt him. Aegon wanted her. He wanted her desperately and had been struggling with their tepid encounters just as much or perhaps even more than she had.
  
  "Feel this Dany. Feel what you do to me. Never doubt me. Do," he kissed her left eye, "not", he kissed her right eye, "ever", he kissed the top of her nose, "doubt me", was murmured against her mouth as he took possession of it once more. His right hand held her head imprisoned and she couldn't draw back even if she had wanted.
  
  Somehow he still increased the intensity of his kisses. She felt as if he was eating her alive. His hips gyrated against hers and she felt a fire burn inside her, a longing for something more grow almost painfully intense. She wanted him to devour her whole and responded to his passion her tongue actively joining the fight his tongue was raging in their mouths. The feelings got too intense and Dany started shaking. She could only keep upright because Aegon was supporting her.
  
  She felt it the moment he realised this. His violent kisses turned gently in the blink of a moment. His hands still cupped her face and buttocks but now only to support her instead of to confine her. Their lips almost touching, he breathed heavily against her.
  
  "I'm sorry Dany. I am so sorry. I am nothing more than a brute. Forgive me. Don't be scared of me. Never be scared of me." His tone was soft and remorseful.
  
  She immediately realised he had mistaken her shivers for fear and not for what they really were.
  
  "I was not scared Aegon. My body just reacted to yours. It wants you as bad as you just proved you want me." She couldn't hide her happiness when she gazed at him her passion-filled eyes confirming her words.
  
  He tucked her head against his chest and she felt safe and cherished. She felt his heart beat fast and listened to his heavy breathing. When it slowed down, he spoke against her hair. "I am sorry for putting you in this state. I am sorry we cannot finish what we started." He held on to her but made sure to keep his hips away from her body. I need a cold bath. I do not think I can walk two steps without anyone noticing." he softly touched her belly with his hardness to prove his point before severing the connection once more.
  
  "Let's sit down for a while." Although she felt frustrated as hell, she understood this was neither the time nor the place to take this any further than they already had. Besides, she had made that damned promise not to entice him. They sat on the lush grass facing each other, just enough space between them so he could not touch her even if he stretched his legs.
  
  "As soon as you are able to, just go inside Dany. I probably need more time than you to fix this." He looked at his groin, a wry smile noticeable on his face. "I told you it would be hard if we went down this road."
  
  "Literally?" She tried to joke.
  
  "As you see," his smile more genuine now. Some of the tension subsided. "You'll be the death of me woman."
  
  "I don't mind, not if that happens when we are both old, grey and lying in bed together.
  
  "Not helping, Dany." Jon protested but he was disappointed when she got up and left a bit later. Nothing had been resolved but he felt lighter somehow. He had reached a decision. He would not wait any longer. Tonight he would fix the potion.
  
  Sam burst into the kitchen on the lower levels of the castle in a very uncharacteristic manner for him. He was sweating profusely having run the entire length of the castle trying to find Jon.
  
  "Jon! Here you are. What are you doing?" He stopped in his tracks seeing Jon sitting on a modest chair, his head and arms lying on the wooden table, his eyes closed.
  
  "Jon, wake up! An urgent message has come from Winterfell. Wake up Jon!"
  
  Touching Jon's shoulder didn't help. He shook him carefully in an effort to get his friend to open his eyes. When he got no reaction whatsoever he studied the small cup and the pestle. Jon had been grinding something. He took up the cup and looked at a brownish substance that smelled terribly.
  
  "What in Seven Hells?" Sam looked around for more clues and found discarded spores of mushrooms and some wilted leaves he didn't immediately recognise. Then it dawned on him that Jon was here entirely alone. No sign of any of his Kingsguards. He got worried that Jon had done something stupid on purpose.
  
  Sam had come to look for his friend after Maester Pylos had woken him to give him the urgent message from Winterfell stating that he could not find the Prince in his bedroom and if Sam would be willing to give it to him. He had encountered a servant on his way down to the library to check whether Jon had perhaps trouble sleeping and was doing some research. The servant that was doing his rounds to check the candles had told him he had spotted the Prince entering the kitchen and had heard him ask the maids to give him some privacy.
  
  Sam was getting really worried now. He had tried to shake Jon with a bit more force but Jon still hadn't given any sign of life except for the rising and falling of his chest that at least was proof that he was still alive and breathing. All of a sudden he heard footsteps in the hallway. Some instinct told him to protect his friend and he quickly hid the evidence of the strange potion Jon had apparently consumed.
  
  "Lord Tarly, have you seen," Ser Oswell halted his speech seeing his Prince asleep at the kitchen table.
  
  "The poor boy is apparently exhausted. Too many late nights combined with early morning trainings will do that to you. Shall we wake him and help him back to his bed?" Ser Oswell looked at Sam.
  
  "I think we should try and wake him. I have a scroll marked urgent from Winterfell. The seal however marks it as a personal message for the eyes of the Prince only. If only Davos were here. He is authorised to open such scrolls if Jon is not available."
  
  "Well, what are you waiting for? The Prince is right here. We only have to wake him." Ser Oswell approached the table and just as Sam had done before, he touched Jon's shoulder. "My Prince?" He applied a bit more pressure. "My Prince? Please wake up. An urgent message from your uncle has arrived."
  
  A small groan and Jon lifted his head slightly only to put it back down. Both men heard Jon's stomach make a nasty sound.
  
  "Sam, a chamber pot or some sort of bowl, quickly." Ser Oswell witnessed his Prince turn green on the spot.
  
  Sam grabbed the first kettle he could find and handed it to Ser Gerold. The knight helped Jon lift his head and turned it to the side. It had been the right call. Not even opening his eyes Jon hurled the contents of his stomach into the receptacle until there was nothing left and it were dry heaves that both men witnessed. Sam had gotten pale and his stomach felt queasy as well. Ser Oswell wasn't doing much better.
  
  "Sick," was all that Jon was able to say in a hoarse voice.
  
  Ser Oswell called a servant and gave him the kettle to dispose of its contents. He gently lowered his Prince's head back on the table and went over to the small window to breathe in some fresh air. Sam however attempted once more to get Jon's attention. "Jon, try to focus. There is an urgent message from Winterfell. We need you lucid so we can learn its contents."
  
  This time the groan was louder. "Winterfell?"
  
  "From Benjen Stark. If he says it is urgent, well uh then it is." Sam stammered.
  
  "Read it." Jon managed to utter with visible effort.
  
  "Can I open it?" Sam asked just to be sure.
  
  "Out loud, please." Jon answered with another groan.
  
  Jon,
  
  Bad tidings. Robb missing for more than two days. Went to Wintertown with Theon. Neither returned. Ayra saw Greyjoy and Ramsay Snow together. Message received with ultimatum Boltons. Hand over Sansa in exchange for hostage. Have called Lords of the North to lay siege to Dreadfort. Fear each day one too many for Robb to withstand torture. Help from the sky is welcome.
  
  Your uncle, Benjen Stark
  
  When Sam had stopped reading, Jon tried to lift his head only to put it back down again. "Need leave."
  
  "You are too sick to leave now, my Prince. Let me call for the Maester." Ser Oswell had watched his Prince's reactions with growing unease.
  
  "Sam, water." Jon's croaking voice was barely recognisable.
  
  "Sam, help him. I will fetch Ser Gerold." And Ser Oswell left the room.
  
  Sam looked at his friend a big question in his eyes. "Jon, what have you taken?" At Jon's stricken look he added. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe for now. I have concealed the evidence. How can I help?"
  
  "Water." Jon repeated with difficulty.
  
  When Ser Gerold entered the room his clothes in disarray and out of breath, he saw his Prince looking pale and weak sitting up, his elbows on the table, his head held in both hands. Young Tarly was quietly talking to him.
  
  "My Prince," he announced his arrival.
  
  "Ser Gerold," Jon replied trying to make a better impression than he felt. "I'm all right. Unsettled stomach, headache, no fever, sorry to worry you." Drinking a few sips of water had helped his voice sound a bit more humane.
  
  "Ser Oswell alerted the Maester to make you a tonic for your stomach. Maester Pylos is brewing it as we speak." Ser Gerold replied looking visibly relieved. Ser Oswell's descriptions had really worried him. I left Ser Barristan with the Princess. No need to alarm her for the time being. The message?"
  
  Sam handed him the scroll trying to will the man to take it easy on Jon with a pertinent look.
  
  "It seems our idyllic time here is at an end," the Lord Commander simply replied. "We will make a travel bag ready for you."
  
  "Including your spyglass and little mirror, my Prince." He added when Jon threw him a doubtful look. "I will ask a servant to help you dress."
  
  "I can leave?" Jon hardly believed his ears.
  
  "Robb Stark is your kin. I've grown wiser, my Prince. I will even give you my blessing if in turn you leave on my terms. They are threefold. First you leave only if you have no fever. Second you do not leave before you can keep something solid in your stomach for half a day. And last but not least, you prove to us first that you can think straight enough to solve a riddle Sam will give you. No cheating." He addressed a stern look to both youths.
  
  "Thanks, Ser Gerold. I promise to fulfil all three conditions before I risk myself and my dragons." Jon stood up and almost lost his balance.
  
  "Just take it easy," Sam lent his shoulder for support. "Just give your blood a chance to flow through your body again." When Jon nodded gratefully the both of them slowly walked out of the room.
  
  "See that they clean him before he dresses, Lord Tarly." Ser Gerold called after them as he watched his Prince disappear a deep frown between his brows.
  
  Interlude 23: Visions
  
  Bran was starting to like it at Greywater Watch. At first he had been sad to leave Winterfell although it was nice to be singled out for once. Normally his other siblings drew most of the attention. When they spoke to him it was often to chastise him to be more circumspect when he climbed. They never once praised him even though he had gotten really good at it. He could climb almost anything he wanted and very quickly when he applied himself. The tools he had received from Jon Celtigar had made all the difference. He could handle them really well and had ordered the local blacksmith at Winterfell to make more hooks so he could leave some of them attached to strategic spots in the walls he often climbed.
  
  Things had changed when Lord Reed had arrived at Winterfell. They had all started to pay him a lot more attention. His mother had spent all her free time with him during his last days in his home. His older brother had been somewhat jealous. Bran knew Robb performed his warging exercises almost daily but had not made much progress. Arya and Bran had benefited immediately and felt a constant bond with their direwolf now. They could sense what their wolf was feeling and if they really concentrated they knew where their pet was. Bran persuaded Arya not to pester Robb about it, using the argument that her friend Jon would want it that way and would be proud of her for being so considerate. Bran knew Robb envied him even more now that he had been singled out by Lord Reed.
  
  Lord Reed had proven to be an amazing teacher. Bran could warg into Summer easily now and join him when he roamed the swamps. He had also started to warg into a mouse and several bird species. Bran liked the feeling of flying although he still lost control the moment the bird flew too high or too far away from him. According to Lord Reed, he would get better at it. He had also experienced his first greendreams. The first one had come to him not long after Lord Reed had taught him to relax, clear his mind and think of the Gods. Such sessions always took place outside in the Godswood. Bran had never seen a more beautiful Godswood as the one here at Greywater Watch.
  
  These days, he entered the woods with mixed feelings. Some of the visions the Gods sent him scared him. Lord Reed often needed to calm him down afterwards and help him make sense of what he saw. He had learned a lot though and knew already most of what to look for when the Gods gifted him with these visions.
  
  He still remembered his very first vision. He had been touching the weirwood tree with both hands resting his head against it as Lord Reed had suggested when it had started. He had seen a desert and had felt the warmth on his skin. There had been a modest settlement in the distance with a few stone buildings and several tents in that vision. A tall skinny man with hardly any hair and a long beard had approached him but instead of speaking to him, the man had sat down against the only tree that could be found in the desolate landscape. Lord Reed had explained to him that it had probably been a palm tree when he had described how the tree looked in detail.
  
  "Always look at your surroundings, Bran. You need to find clues to identify where you are. The tree you described grows only in regions with warm climates. That means you were somewhere in the south or even in Essos. Did the man carry a sigil on his clothing?"
  
  "I didn't look." Bran had stammered a bit overwhelmed. "I don't think so? His clothing looked poor."
  
  "What else did you observe Bran? Did he say anything? Did you see other people?"
  
  "He just sat there staring in the distance, shaking his head." Bran had paused. "Home." He had looked up at Howland Reed with a bit of excitement. "He mumbled that word a few times. I think I hear him say he wanted to go home. He didn't see me."
  
  "Of course he didn't. You weren't there Bran. This thing happened either a long time ago, or is happening now very far from where we are, or it hasn't happened yet. Do you understand what I am saying?" Lord Reed had put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
  
  "I think so. When the Gods show us something it can be past, present or future. Oh, I might see who I am going to marry and whether I will win tournaments and be knighted?" The boy had brimmed with hope now, all fear of this strange gift momentarily forgotten.
  
  "You might Bran. But to be able to understand that vision, you would have to be able to recognise your older self. Do you think you know what you will look like when you are an adult? Every time you see a person in a vision you must try to recognise him. If it is an old man, try to imagine what he looked like when he was younger. Perhaps it is your brother Rickon forty years from now. If you see a child playing with a toy, try to recognise the toy, the place where the child is and imagine what the child would look when it becomes an adult. We need to use every clue the Gods give us in our visions to find out what they mean. The Gods give us these visions for a reason. Somehow, some day, these visions will make sense and we will be able to help someone with our knowledge."
  
  "Even a vision of an old man crying in the desert?"
  
  "Even that vision Bran. See, you remembered something new. You hadn't told me before that the man had been crying. It often happens that the Gods will send you the same vision more than once. It can be moons, years later and when they do that. They might add a new detail to help you make sense of it. Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. You are a very apt student. I am proud of how you are dealing with all of this, Bran."
  
  Bran had stood up straighter, proud at being praised like that. That was one more thing Bran liked about being here. Here he wasn't one of five siblings and had to fight for attention. Here he was considered to be some kind of prodigy.
  
  He got along with Meera just fine and even though Jojen had celebrated two more namedays, the boy was always kind and helpful. Jojen also had a bit of the gift and helped Bran when he doubted his abilities reassuring him he had all the time in the world to learn how to do this. Jojen even told him some mistakes he himself had made when he interpreted his first visions. Once he had received a scary vision of his mother lying in a bed screaming and bleeding and had run to his father to say that mother would die very soon. Apparently after Jojen's father had calmed him down enough to get him to describe the other persons present in his mother's bedroom, it became clear that he had witnessed his own birth.
  
  After that tale, Bran never went alone to the Godswood. This time however he had not been in the Godswood when the visions came to him. He had been asleep, or so he thought when several short greendreams came to him. He woke in a sweat and quickly scribbled down a few key words to make sure he didn't forget a single one of them. He had never had so many in one instance and they had felt rather important so he dressed and went in search for Lord Reed immediately.
  
  He found the man in his solar breaking his fast in solitude.
  
  "Lord Reed?" he asked hesitantly staying in the doorway.
  
  "Good morning, Bran. Come in. Is something the matter?" Lord Reed pushed his plate to the side and focused his attention on his ward.
  
  "I need advice, Lord Reed. I had several visions I think are important." The boy explained his appearance.
  
  "Been to the Godswood already, Bran? You know I would rather go with you when you are still learning and rather young to see some of the things the Gods might show you."
  
  "I wasn't in the Godswood, Lord Reed. It happened in my bed, in my sleep sort of." Bran elaborated.
  
  Lord Reed studied him closely for a while. "Then the Gods must have important messages indeed. Sit down Bran. Let's talk about them now before you forget some of the details."
  
  Bran came in and chose a seat by the fireplace. He waited patiently for Lord Reed to take the seat facing him.
  
  "Tell me exactly what they showed you, Bran." Lord Reed asked, a bit worried why the Gods would send visions without waiting for them to visit the Godswood.
  
  Bran averted his eyes and concentrated. To Lord Reed it looked as if the boy was conjuring the visions up again.
  
  "Well they were mostly just flashes and some disappeared rather quickly. I saw different persons, different locations and I saw a green dragon fly high across the sea with someone on it." The boy finally answered.
  
  "Start from the beginning, Bran. And please take your time. What was the first thing the Gods showed you?"
  
  "I saw aunt Lysa receive a gift from a man with a beautiful coat. She called him Petyr. It was a small bottle, I think a smelling liquid? She seemed afraid of it though." Bran blushed.
  
  "The man kissed Aunt Lysa on the lips. He had a yellow sigil with a black drawing but the vision disappeared before I could make out what it represented."
  
  "That my young charge, was Petyr Baelish. And it was a vision from the past. What you saw, probably happened several moons ago. The man was the traitor who had Lord Arryn murdered. You heard of Lord Baelish's trial?"
  
  "Robb told me a bit about it. Aunt Lysa was guilty as well?"
  
  "She was. Lord Baelish and your aunt did it together. You probably saw him handing her the poison that killed Jon Arryn. I wonder why the Gods showed you that since the matter has been resolved already. Petyr Baelish was tried, convicted and the sentence has been carried out. What was the next thing the Gods showed you?"
  
  "I saw a woman and a man get married in the Godswood. The woman looked like Arya would look when she will be older. The man was a southerner. He had the most amazing white hair and dark purple eyes. They looked very much in love."
  
  Bran shifted a bit in his chair, that vision clearly had made the boy nervous.
  
  "Did you see a sigil? Did you recognise the Godswood? Were there witnesses present as is usual with a marriage before the Old Gods?" Lord Reed already suspected the bride was not Arya Stark.
  
  "Yes! The man wore the sigil of the three headed dragon. Will Arya marry a Targaryen? I thought Prince Viserys had died and he was the last one?"
  
  "Focus Bran. It can be someone from the past. We do not know whether this is past, present or future yet. You probably have several ancestors that resemble Arya."
  
  "Well, she was a Stark, I saw the direwolf sigil. There were several knights present. I only saw one sigil, a burning tower. Bran paused and his face lightened up when he remembered the sigil. "A knight of House Hightower!"
  
  "Then it is most likely that you saw the past, Bran. I think you saw a secret marriage between a Stark and a Targaryen. Do not tell anyone of this young man. Not even Jojen or Meera. This is a very important secret. Will you swear upon your honour as a Stark and upon the lives of all you hold dear not to reveal this secret to anyone unless circumstances allow for it?"
  
  Bran's eyes were big as saucers. "I already swore the greenseer's oath Lord Reed. Is this really necessary?"
  
  "It is Bran. This knowledge could cause a new Rebellion."
  
  Bran quickly swore the oath wanting to know very badly what was going on. Lord Reed didn't make him wait.
  
  "You saw your Aunt Lyanna marry Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Bran. You saw that they were very much in love. The Rebellion that killed the Targaryen Prince was based on a lie."
  
  "But why is it still so very much a secret after all these years?" Bran was a bit disappointed with that explanation. He thought he had uncovered some future alliance between Wolves and Dragons.
  
  "Because House Targaryen is not extinct. They had a child. You have a cousin, Bran, a brave young man with a claim to the Iron Throne. He will come forward soon enough. Better leave it at that for now." Lord Reed was getting worried. The Gods really made his life rather complicated. Why show the boy all this?
  
  Bran started to get agitated. "Lord Reed. That may come to pass sooner than you know. You might want to hear my next vision." When the man gestured for him to continue Bran spoke up.
  
  "I saw King Robert, lying on a bed and he was dying. He was in a lot of pain. Does this mean my mysterious cousin will become King soon?" Bran was getting excited.
  
  "Was someone with him, Bran? Normally a King has several people caring for him when he is that sick."
  
  "Yes. I saw Father but he had his head lowered. I also saw Jon Celtigar. At least I think it was him. I only saw his back but I recognised his black curls. He was kneeling before the King's bed and held the King's hand. Is Jon a friend of the King? He never told us that." Bran's eyes, big as saucers now looked at Lord Reed eager for an explanation.
  
  "Could you tell whether they were older than they are now? Think Bran, it is really important." Lord Reed was shocked that the most important vision to come to any of them in moons would be given to the young Stark and not to him.
  
  "I tried Lord Reed. I know it is important but King Robert's hair was covered in a night cap, father was looking down and Jon, I mean Lord Celtigar, if it was him, had his back to me. I am sorry." The boy looked anxious, not wanting to disappoint his mentor.
  
  "Never mind Bran. I am sure you told it most faithfully. Was that the last of your visions?"
  
  "No I had another one. I saw an ice monster with a really scary face. I could be a White Walker straight out of Old Nan's stories. He held a healthy looking baby but then he touched the baby's face with his icy finger. It turned into an ice baby with bright blue eyes this one was only a dream, I mean a nightmare?"
  
  Lord Reed saw the boy was deeply troubled but he didn't hold back. This was too important. He continued his relentless questioning. "Did you recognise the environment? Did you see anything, anyone else?"
  
  "Only a winter landscape with pine trees, no buildings, no other sign of life. It was just a short vision and then another even shorter one. The one with the green dragon I told you about. That is when I woke up."
  
  Important information or not, Lord Reed was starting to feel guilty for harassing the boy like this. He questioned the Gods intentions once more. He couldn't fathom why the Gods would harass a child like that? He needed to calm Bran down so he would not resist future visions and use all he had learned to extend them if possible.
  
  "You did well, Bran. You are getting really powerful if you could see all of that in one session. I propose you break your fast first but then write everything down in the diary I gave you. Do not forget the tiniest detail. We will talk more about them later. You will soon be able to make sense of most of these visions. The Gods always have a reason."
  
  "I didn't like them doing it in my sleep though, Lord Reed. Will this happen often?" Bran complained softly.
  
  "I do not think so, son. I think they blessed you with everything at once so they can leave you alone for a while. I will certainly pray to them and ask them to spare you a bit. You did well, Bran. My advice to you is to write these visions down and then try to forget about them for a while. Leave the rest to me. I will take the necessary steps."
  
  "Thank you, Lord Reed." Bran made an awkward bow with his head and left the solar. He tried to focus on the memory of a happy Aunt Lyanna kissing her new husband. At least that had been a happy picture.
  
  Lord Reed sighed. Something was up. The Gods connected all these events together. He worried most about King Robert's deathbed and wondered whether it was really Jon who had held Robert Baratheon's hand. That would mean Jon would somehow be in King's Landing when the King died? And not just in King's Landing but on his knees next to his Grace's bed, as one would do for a friend who was dying. He got up from his seat and fetched his coat. He would visit the Godswood and ask the Gods to send these visions to him and not to a young boy that barely counted eleven nameday celebrations.
  
  Most of all the description of the vision where the White Walker transformed a tiny baby and had stared straight at Bran had thrown him. Howland had never had a character in a vision staring him down, not ever. If Bran was telling the truth, and somehow he felt sure that was the case, then there was perhaps another power at work, a dark power that somehow could connect with the boy.
  
  He wondered once more if he had done the right thing to take Bran under his wings and teach him how to receive greendreams. Perhaps the boy was still too young. Ever since he had started to teach Bran, he had received fewer visions himself and when he did, they were only of minor importance.
  
  Was this the Old Gods' way of showing their disapproval for taking Bran under his tutelage too soon? He hoped not. He knew from experience that the younger a greenseer got initiated, the more powerful he could become. The gift was strong in the boy, even stronger than he had ever dared to expect. It would have been a waste not to try to let the boy develop his full potential.
  
  He entered the Godswood and kneeled before the heart tree, submitting himself to the will of his Gods. He prayed fervently to receive their counsel.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter King Robert and Ned Stark struggle to find a way to rule together.
  
  In the interlude, Tyrion tries to solve a puzzle.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Friend or foe
  Chapter 24: Friend or foe
  
  Summary:
  
  King Robert and Ned Stark struggle to find a way to rule together.
  
  In the interlude, Tyrion tries to solve a puzzle.
  
  Notes:
  
  I want to thank all my readers who took the time to send me a review. I appreciate them all. Since most of you are guests or don't allow for PM's I am going to respond to a few of your comments here for all to read.
  
  Boltons: you are all rather cruel to poor Domeric. But I may have found a way to destroy the Bolton legacy and not send Domeric to the Wall while I am at it.
  
  Septa Moelle: you have suspicious minds. I have so many potential villains already. I don't think she will be more than a side character in my story.
  
  Robb's rescue: Which will happen of course (duh!) Bran will play his part in this story but not so much in Robb's rescue. A simple raven to Dragonstone was enough to alert Jon.
  
  Yara: Jon will have a talk with her about Theon, that's for sure.
  
  Shrooms: will give Jon a vision but perhaps not the one he was he was hoping for. Anyway, I am keeping that a secret for now. Got to create a bit of suspense to keep you from coming back to read the next chapters :-)
  
  Incest: Jon brings enough fresh blood to the table to have healthy children with Dany. And of course they will not allow for siblings to marry after them. I foresee no mad Targaryens in my universe any time soon.
  
  Timeline: I realise that my timeline was a little off concerning Littlefinger. But go with it. Just imagine he was a quick riser. It is an alternate universe after all. Besides he is a goner. Oberyn's eldest daughters are old enough. I checked Wikipedia so there I am in the clear. Myrcella is rather young but this is a mediaval society. In my universe she is sixteen now (Joffrey would have been seventeen). Sansa is fourteen going on fifteen.
  
  Jonerys: Don't worry, this is a Jonerys story all the way. Even if my focus is mainly on Jon. And Dany may ride a dragon yet? Who knows, this is fan fiction. Anything can happen. Just don't go thinking it will all be smooth sailing for her/them.
  
  Doran Martell: is a dark horse in this story and his plotline can go either way. It certainly seems strange that he condoned attempted rape after what happened to his sister Elia.
  
  Coded messages: the guest who had trouble deciphering the code: they alternated words from two sentences. Jon explains this to Dany in his very first letter to her when he was twelve.
  
  I am going to stop here for now. If you want more questions answered when I post the next chapter, just let me know. I'll deliberate on what to reveal and where to keep you guessing. Enjoy the new chapter.
  
  Before I forget: Once more I give credit where it is due and humbly thank my patient beta Ravenousreadr.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Robert threw the cup against the wall. They all thought he was a fool. They all thought they could play him. Ned should know better. His 'friend' knew how intelligent he was. He had given him proof enough during their youth. Granted, he hadn't always shown much sense over the years. But try to be married to such a conniving adulterous bitch of a Lannister cunt and see if the honourable Ned would not have resorted to drinking and whoring. Ned had this model of a wife who obeyed her husband and stayed faithful.
  
  He eyed the cup that lay in the corner and wondered whether he should pick it up and have another drink. The only one he could trust these days was Varys. Better wait till after the meeting with the eunuch before he was too drunk to have an intelligent conversation. He needed help and he needed it soon.
  
  Things were getting out of hand and somehow, however implausible, Ned was mixed up in it. He was as good as sure by now. Either of his own volition or forced into it, blackmailed perhaps? How could anyone be so stupid to involve honourable Ned Stark in a foul plot? His friend couldn't lie even if he tried very hard. When Robert had started receiving messages warning him to distrust his Hand, he had burned them at first. But the content had kept nagging him and he had started to drop little hints to put his friend to the test.
  
  Robert was no fool. He had noticed from the start that every time he brought up the subject of the Targaryens living in Essos or rather the only surviving Princess across the Narrow Sea, Ned got antsy. The very moment he dropped something relating to the dragon or rumours or the possibility of a dragonrider, his normally so confident Hand stammered a generic answer and couldn't leave his presence soon enough.
  
  Ned came up with the lamest excuses to leave his presence and left without once looking straight at him. The last time Ned's excuse had been an urgent matter concerning the sewer system. Ha, sewer system. The city lacked a sewer system. Had lacked it a hundred years ago and would not have one a hundred years from now. Ned clearly lied to him. Ned, the honourable Ned lied to him, his King, his friend. Why?
  
  Once upon a time, he and Ned had been as close as brothers. They had done everything together. They understood each other before they even uttered a single word. They had fought side by side to defeat House Targaryen and when Robert took the throne, he had envisioned the both of them ruling the Kingdoms together. But then his honourable friend had taken offense when he had awarded the murders of the Targaryen children and their mother and things had never gone back to normal. Robert knew he had gone too far in Ned's eyes.
  
  He knew he should have found a more discreet solution to get rid of the Targaryens. It couldn't be helped though. It had been too late when they entered the capital and Robert couldn't double back. He had taken a strong stance. The only way a King could act. Besides he had needed Tywin Lannister and things had escalated from there.
  
  And now when he had found the courage to turn his life around, meeting Ned more than halfway in healing the rift between them so his dream of him and Ned ruling together would finally come true, his friend had started acting weird. Outsiders might think they had reconciled and were once more very close friends, but Robert knew better. He was no fool damnit!
  
  Something was wrong. And it had been wrong from the very beginning. Now that he considered it, things had been off from the very first day that Ned had accepted to become his Hand. Why had Ned accepted the position so quickly? He had been blind at the time, too happy that his friend finally came to live with him in the capital to see the signs.
  
  He couldn't blame himself for not noticing earlier though. At first everything had worked out. Ned had gotten him interested in ruling. They had drafted two excellent new decrees that were even praised by the smallfolk in King's Landing. Robert, grateful for his friend's company and support, had cut back on his bad habits. And Ned had noticed that. Robert had seen more than once the approbation in Ned's eyes when Robert stopped the servant from refilling his cup. Things had been going so well.
  
  Robert remembered the hunt they had been on the same day that Petyr Baelish had been convicted as clear as if it had been yesterday. He had seen his old friend reappear before his eyes. But the very next day, Ned had started to avoid him. He should never have left that damned trial. What had happened there?
  
  Now Ned avoided him as much as he could, whether he proposed to tackle a problem together or wanted to go on another pleasure outing just the two of them. He needn't bring up Targaryens or dragons to bait him any longer. Ned was as flighty as a newly born foal. Either Ned was slowly losing his mind or something was wrong.
  
  At first he had thought Ned might be getting strong-armed by someone in the capital, but who and why? And even if that was the case, why would Ned not confide in his King? Why would he not trust in him, the best friend he had ever had?
  
  Then the anonymous messages had started to get under his skin and Robert had started to wonder. Why had Ned never wanted to come to the capital all these years before and all of a sudden accepted to do just that without even the tiniest delay to think things over? Did he have another agenda? Was he just like all the others in this accursed capital?
  
  The messages also made him question why Robert was surrounded by men loyal to House Stark. There were hardly any Baratheon guards left at court. All he saw were direwolf sigils. The Lannisters of course were long gone and all prominent positions on the City Watch were filled with men loyal to Ned Stark. If anyone else had done something of the sort, Robert would have become suspicious at once, but he had trusted Ned, trusted him implicitly. 'Perhaps he was a fool, damnit.'
  
  But what was Ned's goal if he really had nefarious intention? Robert had a meeting with Varys in a bit and he really needed to hear the Master of Whisperers' opinion. At first he had thought that Varys was in league with his Hand somehow but by now he knew better. Varys had betrayed Ned's confidence several times already, coming to the King with things that Ned withheld from him. The eunuch was on his side and would help him make sense of it all.
  
  His Master of Whispers had something new to say about his Hand and the Northern most Kingdom almost every day. He had given his King reports about the strengthening of the Northern Shores, the hidden fortress in the Neck and the large fleet the North had apparently amassed. Separately all these goings on could be explained away. But as Varys had pointed out, combine all of them and the picture changed dramatically. Something was up in the North, and it all came down to his so-called friend.
  
  The most worrisome had been the rumours about the dragonrider being kin to House Stark. But at least that one he didn't believe. Robert had seen first-hand how Ned had blanched when Littlefinger talked about the message he had withheld, that hellish love declaration of Lyanna. Ned had paled visible and had been caught unawares.
  
  Robert was sure Ned had not known that Lyanna had eloped with Prince Rhaegar. Ned was a bad liar and an even worse actor. He hadn't known. You only had to consider the oath Ned swore immediately after the trial. That had been the only time Ned had been able to look him straight in the eye when they talked about dragons or a dragonrider. His friend wasn't that far gone that he would vow on his loved ones and speak a lie. Robert was very sure that Lord Eddard Stark knew nothing about a son of Brandon, trueborn or bastard, who might have a claim to Winterfell. Ned had told the absolute truth about that at least. Robert was very sure about that.
  
  Varys adjusted his robes and waited for the King to arrive. He had been summoned to his Grace's new study, a room that hadn't existed until recently. The King had ordered a large desk to be moved to a room close to his sleeping quarters. A beautifully carved cabinet lined the wall close to the desk. Varys knew the King used it to store messages he kept from his Hand. His plan was working. The King was starting to distrust Lord Stark. He wondered why he was summoned so secretively by King Robert this time. The last time he had been tasked to keep the Hand of the King busy with trivial matters and away from Keep, had been so the King could meet with his scouts privately. Varys of course, as his Master of Whispers had been allowed to be present.
  
  He startled when the door opened rather abruptly and the King entered with big strides. He watched how Robert Baratheon circled the desk swiftly and sat down without further ado. Varys bowed deeply and waited to be seated until King Robert gave his permission.
  
  "Lord Varys, please take seat. I have a few things I would like to discuss with you. But before we start, I must ask to keep everything that will be discussed here today a secret." The King seemed very eager to start their meeting.
  
  "That is the very definition of my position, your Grace." Varys bowed his head once more and took the seat facing the desk. "I am the keeper of secrets and I serve at your pleasure."
  
  "Well before we start I must ask you something. Aside from all you told me that is happening in the North, do you think Lord Stark is doing a good job as my Hand? I must admit, I didn't pay that much attention to the running of things when Jon Arryn held the position, but now with Lord Stark here, I have been more involved and in my opinion it appears that he is handling things well."
  
  "I already told you, your Grace that we were all pleasantly surprised when you came back with two very reasonable laws that have been accepted well at court and amongst the smallfolk. You know we, I mean the small council of course, had our doubts when you decided to appoint Lord Stark as Hand of the King. Our argument that he had no knowledge of southern politics has been proved wrong on several occasions. He can be cunning and smart when it is needed and puts his honourable reputation to good use to strong-arm his opponents into doing the right thing. But," Varys hesitated.
  
  "But?" The King encouraged him to speak up. "This is just between the two of us. Just speak your mind, Lord Varys. I promise I won't take offense. The worst I can do is attempt to persuade you that you have it wrong."
  
  Varys bowed his head in apparent reverence. "I fear he was used to running the North without opposition and he is applying this to the Seven Kingdoms even if he needs different tactics here to be in absolute control. Everywhere I look men of the North are in charge. If anyone really stands up to Lord Stark, will that person get a fair chance to state his case? What if you stood up to him, your Grace? Are you ruling the Seven Kingdoms? Who is making the decisions?"
  
  "Normally I would say that making decisions is exactly what a Hand of the King should do. But perhaps we need to put Lord Stark to the test. What is he working on now?"
  
  "I have been helping him to draw up the list with possible brides, your Grace. But for some reason he is stalling."
  
  The King rolled his eyes. "As if I hadn't noticed that. Any idea why he is delaying?"
  
  "Well, I can only state what I think. Although I am almost certain I have it right. My guess is that he really wants Lady Margaery to be your choice of bride but hesitates to put her at the top of the list so he is not too obvious. Then there is the issue with House Frey. He refuses to put any Freys on the list." Varys was studying the King like a hawk to gauge the effect of his words.
  
  "I know of House Tyrell's ambitions and am considering Lady Margaery as a serious candidate. I cannot for the life of me see a reason why he would be ambiguous about that. And what about House Frey?" The King was getting impatient with the circumspect ways of the eunuch.
  
  "You see, Walder Frey has too many daughters and granddaughters that have already flowered and are in need of husbands. Believe it or not, I have it on good authority that some of them are rather comely. I have heard tell that a certain lady Roslin Frey is only a year or so older than the lady Margaery and rivals her in beauty. The only thing lady Roslin is lacking is the sharp tongue that lady Margaery possesses."
  
  Varys made a face at the King that spoke volumes. "Lady Olenna apparently has been schooling her granddaughter in her own image. I have heard whispers here at court, some even with my own ears. People are talking that there is a young Queen of Thorns in the making and are already feeling sorry for you. They fear you might marry yet another shrew."
  
  The King snorted losing the little decorum he had. He motioned Varys to continue.
  
  "I have digressed, your Grace. Accept my apologies. You asked about the offer of House Frey. It is rather generous, if I am allowed to say so, your Grace. They offer you any bride, any Frey maiden of your own choosing and will give you her weight in gold as a dowry, including free passage through the Riverlands for anyone travelling with you or at your behest."
  
  The King studied his Master of Whispers closely. The eunuch kept his face as blank as if he was reciting the latest crop reports. 'Is that what losing your manhood did to a man?'
  
  "That is very generous. A comely Frey you say? Does such a thing really exist? Where do you get that information, Lord Varys? How reliable is it really?" His voice betrayed his interest but he didn't care. ' It is absolutely normal to be interested in a comely young wife with a big dowry. I am still a man with a fully functioning manhood, thank the Seven Heavens!'
  
  "I get it from more than ten sources that are totally independent from each other. But you need not take my word for it. Lord Frey is willing to let you get acquainted with his most eligible daughters and granddaughters. You will only need to commit after seeing them and learning a bit about their characters and dispositions. If he lets you uh interact with one and you end up not choosing her, he only asks that you procure the unfortunate lady a noble husband." An impassive Varys explained.
  
  "That can easily be done. Why is Lord Stark hesitating then?" Robert frowned thinking his friend was really not impartial in this matter. Varys's next words proved this to be true.
  
  "House Frey has been in open conflict with House Tully as you well know, your Grace. Lord Stark is putting the interest of his good family before the interest of his King, before the interest of the realm. I am sure he has the noblest intentions and it shows in the fact that he struggles with completing the list. I must warn you though that I have seen him act this way a few times already. Lord Stark is first and foremost a wolf of the North who protects his pack. He considers his wife's family as part of his pack."
  
  "Damnit, Ned!" The King cursed out loud this time. "Are you sure though? He knows I am still troubled by the role House Frey played in Littlefinger's schemes. Can that not be why Lord Stark hesitates? He paused and stared out the window to consider his options.
  
  Seeing Lord Varys on the brink of breaking the silence from the corner of his eyes, he faced him again and gave his Master of Whispers permission to speak. "What is your opinion, Lord Varys? How do you propose I should act?"
  
  "Why do you not search for a bride yourself, your Grace? Why let your Hand handle this? It is a personal matter as well, not only a political one. Think of the things you could do with all that gold if you accepted it personally. Let me draft a letter to Walder Frey stating you will contact him as soon as your annulment has been granted. I can alter the terms of his proposal slightly so you cannot be blackmailed by the old conniver."
  
  He cleared his throat before elaborating. "We all know Walder Frey's reputation. Let's tell him you will keep all options open. In the event that you should end up marrying a noble lady of another house, promise him that you will see to it personally that two of his female dependents will find a noble husband. You can add the incentive that your Grace will attend their wedding personally." Varys' tone was no longer neutral, for once his voice had taken on a more persuasive character.
  
  The Kings face brightened. "Excellent, Lord Varys. That will certainly soothe the old weasel. You have my permission to contact him immediately. Now why do you think the annulment is taking this much time?"
  
  "It has not taken much time in terms of the Citadel and the way Septons and Archmaesters handle things. You can't hurry a Septon and putting pressure on the Citadel will only result in the Archmaesters delaying things on purpose. Let's wait another two moons before taking formal action. In the meantime I will use my influence subtly. I have a contact at the Citadel who might be able to help. Leave it to me, your Grace. Just be patient. What are a few more moons for a man who still has more than thirty years to sire children? Perhaps even fifty if you look at Walder Frey's achievements." Varys now used his most earnest yet subservient expression.
  
  The King waved with his hand to indicate the matter was closed for now. "What about the other assignments I gave you? Have your spies found out more about the Northern Fleet? Is it true that there has been a clash with the Ironborn?"
  
  "There has indeed been a minor altercation at the Stony Shore, but as often is the way of the simple folk, they have embellished the story to have something to enjoy around their campfires at night. Life is dreary that far north, your Grace. As to the other matter, the North has developed a rather large fleet at White Harbour. It has been used to increase trade with Pentos. You know the North cannot provide enough food to see to their needs come winter. I heard they tried to establish trade relations with the Reach first but I gather that lady Olenna for some reason is not cooperating." Varys once more kept his voice matter of fact and his expression blank.
  
  "So all the ships that are reported passing the Fingers are heading for Pentos?" The King frowned disbelievingly.
  
  "I would think so." Varys made a show of acting a bit shocked. "Your Grace, surely you are not accusing the North of trying to occupy King's Landing? In the unlikely event that House Stark was capable of turning against their King, the only plausible move for the North would be to close itself off from the Seven Kingdoms and declare their independence." He paused to emphasize his words before continuing.
  
  "I realise that the Starks of old have been Kings of Winter and there were several natural born leaders and ambitious men amongst them, but Lord Eddard Stark is not one of them. I know I am not his greatest advocate, but that is precisely why. Your Hand is too honourable, has hardly any ambition and is too rigid to make a good ruler. Besides, I pride myself that I can detect power hungry men. Eddard Stark does not covet your throne for himself. I am willing to sacrifice my right hand if I am wrong."
  
  The King's frown didn't leave his face. If anything, it got more pronounced. "I am not that sure, Varys. You said it yourself before, here at the capital, his armed forces outnumber us. Their leaders are loyal to him first, only second to their King. The possibility of a Northern Fleet so close to King's Landing worries me."
  
  "Your Grace, let me work on that. I will try to get more Baratheon men at court and in the city. I will contact some of your bannerman in the Crownlands and find some pretext to lure them here without alerting anyone, certainly not Lord Stark, to the real reason for their presence."
  
  "A tournament!" The King exclaimed, all concerns momentarily forgotten in his enthusiasm for this new idea. "Let's hold a tournament."
  
  "That could be one solution though a rather costly one. Let me look into it. We will have to involve your Hand in the organisation of such a big event." Varys cautioned.
  
  "I don't care. Let us hold a tournament no matter the reason. It has been too long. And make sure that nobles from everywhere attend and let them bring their daughters. But more importantly see to it that my brother attends as well. Stannis never bothers to write me. Renly for all his frivolous ways at least sent regular report to me. Now I know nothing about the state of my Keep nor my bastard."
  
  Robert still regarded Storm's End as his. He also couldn't help feeling some affinity for Edric Storm. Even if the boy was a bastard, his bastard, the child's mother had been a fine woman. The King's gaze had wandered away from Varys and he found himself staring out of the window not really seeing anything but thinking of the beautiful blue eyes of Lady Delena Florent. It had been a short affair but because of the boy, he had never forgotten about her as he had so easily forgotten about the countless ladies of high birth he had seduced in his wilder years. Those had been some of his best years. How could he have known that he wouldn't enjoy begin King of all of Westeros half as much as the excitement of chasing after a beautiful maiden or a more experienced woman for that matter.
  
  He rubbed his forehead and forced himself to concentrate on their discussion. Turning his eyes back on Varys who was waiting patiently for his King, the very picture of a most devoted subject, he asked. "Have you finally heard back from the scouts we sent to Storm's End?"
  
  "I am afraid not, your Grace. We have sent several on separate occasions. None have returned and I fear the worst. I suspect the rumours are true and your brother has a red priestess with him who is something akin to a greenseer. I can't think of another explanation. We have send scouts, little birds and even a noble Lord and another red Priest. Nobody has reported back. It is a very strange situation."
  
  "Then I will formally order Stannis to the capital. Even my brother is not allowed to refuse a royal command. If he doesn't obey..."
  
  "You can't threaten to disinherit him, your Grace, forgive me for interrupting. Not unless you want to reinstate Prince Renly. For the moment you are out of options. He is your only viable heir for now." Varys explained patiently.
  
  "Damnit!" The King once more forgot his manners and cursed. "I forgot about the consequences of that unfortunate business. That reminds me, the Tyrell boy is still under the supervision of House Stark. I really need to know what is up with Lord Stark. I need to know whether I can trust him or not. Is he just being naive or is he advancing the northern cause using my resources? I need to know sooner rather than later."
  
  "Let me talk to the Lord Hand, your Grace. If that doesn't work, you summon him. Let him know you are the King and air your grievances to his face. If you are not satisfied with his reaction, either dismiss him or curb his authority. Just tell him that from now on, all decisions are to be ratified by your Grace, be it political, economic or financial ones and most important of all make it clear that the choice of a new Queen is your decision and yours alone. I am leaning towards giving Lord Stark the benefit of the doubt, all matters considered. He might not be the best choice for Hand, but he is an honourable man. He will do what he thinks is just." Varys gave this advice with a straight face.
  
  "Unless he thinks I am not 'just' ." The King mumbled between his teeth, he suddenly felt drained of all energy. "Perhaps we better leave it at this, Lord Varys. I need to think on all this some more."
  
  Varys ignored the King's sigh. "As you wish, your Grace. I have my work carved out for me anyway."
  
  "Then get to it, Lord Varys. I will keep Ned busy with organising the tournament." A slightly revived Robert Baratheon ordered. Another hand gesture signaled the end of the interview.
  
  "It will be done as you ordered, your Grace. You can give him that assignment at our next meeting of the small council." Varys bowed low and left the room, pleased with all the little hints and manipulations he had been able to drop into the conversation.
  
  Ned's head was aching. He was prone to headaches these last few sennights. He blamed it on the stress and the lack of sleep. Why were things going this slow? Jon should claim the throne and be done with it. Once King of Westeros, he could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against the White Walkers if necessary. He tried to keep his face blank. He would not do to let the nobles see a troubled Hand of the King. They would find a way to take advantage of the smallest weakness he showed.
  
  He answered a nod from the delegation of the Riverlands that had arrived with a few eligible maidens. He saw a representative from House Bracken sitting not far from Lord Blackwood and hoped that Lord Lyman Darry was savvy enough to keep the peace between both Houses.
  
  He focussed his attention on the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall to see if more Targaryen loyalists had arrived. He and Varys were working on getting as much support for Jon within the city walls and lord Darry was one of the most recent arrivals. Things were moving along nicely but each day he spent being the King's Hand was one too many as far as he was concerned.
  
  Tomorrow morning he had a private meeting with the King. Varys had warned him he would need to defend each decision he had made since arriving in the capital. Someone had been poisoning the King against him. He had even given Ned leave to cast suspicion on Varys if he had no other way of convincing the King of his loyalty. He would never resort to that though. Varys' head might roll if Ned used him to save himself.
  
  He saw Robert was talking to Mace Tyrell and hoped they were not discussing lady Margaery's chances to become Queen in such a public setting. Things had been strained between him and Robert lately. Varys was right. He needed to keep to King's ear for now. His first priority was to help his nephew's cause. 'Keep that in mind when you deal with Robert Baratheon. It will help your conscience.' Had been Varys' exact words. As if Ned didn't repeat a similar mantra in his head several times a day already.
  
  He turned to his left to deliver some empty compliment to a lady from House Waynwood who was partnered with him for the evening. Luckily she was not very talkative and left him in peace most of the time.
  
  "Music!" the King bellowed suddenly as he rose from his chair. Apparently his Grace had finished eating and was in want of entertainment. "Someone fetch a minstrel. Let's bring some liveliness to this Great Hall. I decree that every noble present here tonight dances at least one dance with his table partner."
  
  Ned sighed but raised his cup to toast to his King. The empty seat between the two of them was the ceremonial place for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and was empty at the time. The King sat next to Olenna Tyrell. Ned wondered if the King would follow his own edict and dance with the old shrew. "To your Grace's health!"
  
  The King bowed his head slightly in thanks and reciprocated. "To yours as well, Ned."
  
  "In fact," he addressed the room at large now. "Lord Stark will open proceedings and dance with Lady Waynwood. Only when the minstrel starts the chorus are the others allowed to follow my Hand's excellent example."
  
  The King raised his cup and answered Ned's toast. "To our health!" Robert stopped drinking only when his cup was empty. He put it down with an exaggerated thump and ordered loud enough for everyone to hear. "More wine! Servants, fill everyone's cups! Everyone will toast to our health!"
  
  'Perhaps the rumours were true.' Ned mused as he witnessed the King's exuberant mood. Varys had told him that the King had fallen in love with a whore freshly arrived in the capital. According to Varys, the girl had been a maiden when she was brought to Robert and that the King was convinced that the young girl had fallen for him and considered him 'her King and master'.
  
  He rose from the table and held his hand out to Lady Waynwood when the minstrel started to play.
  
  He repressed a sigh. 'It would be a long evening.'
  
  The next morning in the King's study
  
  "Sit down, Ned. What do you think of my new quarters?" It was indeed the first time Ned had been summoned to this room. When he had passed the Baratheon guard in the hallway, he had realised that this was the room Varys had described to him earlier. A few days ago, Varys had informed him King Robert had a place where he conducted business that he kept a secret from his Hand.
  
  "It looks the part, your Grace." Ned deliberately used the more formal greeting more suitable to the state of their current relationship. He studied Robert closely and noticed that the King looked more relaxed than before. Perhaps he had spent another lovely night. Ned could only dream of female company and if he was honest, he had felt the lack of it keenly these last few sennights and even more now in the presence of a clearly satiated King. He waited for Robert to sit down before he took the chair facing the expensive looking desk.
  
  "It does, doesn't it? I really do look the part of a King who is taking matters in hand, don't I? That is what I wanted to talk about to you today, Ned."
  
  Ned steeled himself. Despite the cordial tone with which these words had been uttered, their meaning was clear. "Do you mean to say you will not need a Hand any longer? Or are you curbing my responsibilities, your Grace?" Ned asked stiffly.
  
  Robert sighed and ran a hand through his beard. "Ned, what happened to us? What happened to our dream of ruling the Seven Kingdoms together?"
  
  "That has always been your dream, uh your Grace. I was quite content in the North." Ned had almost addressed him as Robert. He had uttered that last question sounding so much as his former friend, the friend he had loved like a brother all those years ago. He hadn't expected that side of Robert to appear today. He had prepared himself for an entirely different confrontation after being warned by Varys.
  
  "Then why accept the position?" The King fixed him with an intense stare. Apparently this was the question Robert really wanted the answer to.
  
  "Because my King asked it of me. Because Lord Arryn died and I trusted no one in that position of power so close to you. If I had known of another reliable candidate to help you, I would have tried to steer you in that direction, your Grace." Ned hoped he had stuck the right tone. He feared it was not the case when he saw the King getting all worked up.
  
  "Damnit Ned! Why can't you just tell me the real reason? And why have I become 'your Grace' again in private? Why can't you just tell me what happened at the trial to make you change your attitude so drastically. Is someone strong-arming you?" The King leaned forward, his blue Baratheon eyes piercing his friend's eyes.
  
  Ned knew Robert would not back down this time but made one last desperate attempt anyway. "Robert? To what are you referring? Have I not always served you to the best of my abilities?"
  
  "Stop pretending, Ned. I know you. And even if I didn't, you can't lie for the life of you. At least not to me, someone that has known you since forever. Ever since the trial you cannot keep far enough away from me. You cannot even look at me most of the time. How long has it been since we've been alone in a room together long enough to have a real conversation? And do not dare to give the excuse that you have been busy handling my affairs. I offered you more than once to handle all of them together."
  
  Ned sighed and felt the guilt that festered in his gut intensify. He tried one of his prepared statements. "I thought that was your way of saying I was not doing a good enough job and doubled my efforts to please you, your Grace."
  
  "If I hear one more 'your Grace' out of you, you are dismissed, Ned!" Robert almost shouted now. He deflated a bit and settled himself back in his original position leaning his body against the high backside of his cosy chair. Robert took a deep breath and his voice resumed his normal volume.
  
  "I give you one last chance to come clean. I have been far more lenient with you than with anyone else ever, Ned. If you don't tell me the truth today, you can go back and hide once more in your dreary North for all I care. I will find someone else or rule the damn things myself. I have the desk for it now."
  
  When Ned didn't respond immediately, the King softened his voice and tried another approach. His eyes pleaded with his friend when he asked him again.
  
  "What happened, Ned? I still recall you helping me cope with the aftermath of the trial, the shock we both suffered when Littlefinger revealed hmmm. Well no need to repeat that. What I meant to say is that we had such a nice hunt afterwards. We connected again, Ned. For the first time in a long time, I felt that bond again, our brotherly bond that snapped when I ascended the throne."
  
  "It was not one single thing that happened, Robert." Ned finally replied. Robert's sincere tone had struck a chord and he wanted more time to gather his thoughts. Robert was really getting to him. He opted to stay as truthful as possible. "There were my own doubts, for one. I hear the rumours about my alleged incompetence, I am not deaf, Robert. But I must confess that it was the mention of the alleged dragonrider that rattled me and made me question everything again. The possible existence of another Targaryen reminded me of what happened to Prince Rhaegar's children."
  
  His eyes briefly met Robert's before looking back to his hands that he tried to keep still in his lap. "You know now that Prince Rhaegar did not offend our houses in the way we thought. He did not rape my sister. For all we know Lyanna, it might have been all her doing. She might have fancied herself in love and seduced the Prince. He did the honourable thing and married her, Robert. Lysa revealed it all. He married her in a Godswood which is really significant for us Northerners. Even though a Septon was present to make it official in the eyes of the Seven, Prince Rhaegar loved her enough to indulge her wishes." Ned swallowed thickly at the reminder.
  
  "After the trial, Lysa swore to me that the letter contained Lyanna's description of how the Prince loved her very much and how he did everything to protect her and make her happy. She probably died because she was alone, unhappy and widowed in a strange place. I know she died of illness but perhaps she would have fought harder if Prince Rhaegar had still been alive."
  
  Ned coughed a few times to find his voice again which had grown hoarser with every word he uttered. He sat back up again and looked into Robert's eyes that had darkened. "I do not blame you for his death. Do not mistake me. That is what happens in a war. But mention of a dragonrider reminded me of the deaths of the Prince's wife and his small children. They didn't deserve that. And now if there really was a young dragonrider, someone with Valyrian or even Targaryen blood, I am scared of what you might do to him or her. I am scared that history will repeat itself." Ned looked back down no longer able to face Robert's conflicted expression.
  
  A long silence ensued. Then Robert spoke in a very calm manner but his voice sounded ominous. "I would have every right to harm that dragonrider if he threatened my throne, my Kingdoms."
  
  "Would you have that right?" Ned challenged him, his tone very grave. He looked up and sat a bit straighter. "Hypothetically speaking, suppose Targaryen loyalists had been able to switch baby Aegon, when they feared the city would fall, would you have been able to tell the difference after the Mountain was done with mutilating the baby? Just suppose that the baby Prince was smuggled out of King's Landing. That small child would be an adult by now. Imagine for a moment that he is the dragonrider. Is your claim really superior to Prince Rhaegar's trueborn son, keeping in mind that the Prince didn't commit the crimes he was accused of?"
  
  Ned looked up briefly up, but averted his eyes when he saw Robert's somewhat ill-disposed expression. He summoned his courage and did continue his line of reasoning. "If all that were true, would the honourable thing not be to give up your throne to that young Prince? Is it still right to call Prince Rhaegar's children dragonspawn? It was the Mad King we wanted to depose in the first place. Not Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we were willing to help him claim the throne. What would you do, Robert? Still hypothetically speaking, of course. Can you put my mind at rest and reassure me that history won't repeat itself and that I would not have to estrange myself from my best friend once more?"
  
  Another long silence fell over the room. Both men avoided looking at one another, each deep in their own thoughts.
  
  "You raise a difficult question, Ned." Robert finally replied. "To be honest, I do not know what I would do. But luckily that possibility you just described, me having to abdicate in favour of Prince Rhaegar's trueborn son will never present itself. You see, little baby Aegon had a birth mark on his left foot. I checked, Ned. I am no fool." Not a sliver of guilt or doubt was present in the King's demeanour when he uttered these words.
  
  Ned tried to hide how displeased he was with Robert's answer. He was still mulling over the right response without revealing too much when the King spoke up again.
  
  "Now it is your turn to be truthful. Are you in any way threatening my throne? Do you want more power? Or do you want to become King in the North again like your ancestors before the Targaryens united the Seven Kingdoms?" Robert spoke these accusations with an unyielding expression in his eyes. He had put both hands on his desk and was leaning forward to further intimidate his friend.
  
  Ned did his best to look insulted. "If you really believe such a thing to be possible, I will resign this instant. I do not want more power. I have enough headaches as it is. I do not want the North to become independent. We need the other Kingdoms' resources come winter and Northern independence would only be good for my people if the North still entertained amicable relations with the other Kingdoms. As for threatening your rule, I would only ask you to step down if you became an unjust King harming his subjects on purpose or if someone showed up that had a rightful claim to the throne, a claim superior to yours."
  
  Ned stood up, ready to leave. "If that is all, your Grace." He emphasized his last two words.
  
  Robert rose from his chair. "Sit back down, Ned! You are not dismissed yet! You will not leave this room until we have either learned to live and work together again, or until we have both reached the mutual decision that it is better to part ways. But even if we decide the latter, you will still take up your mantle of Warden of the North again and help your old friend with keeping the peace in that part of his Kingdoms."
  
  Robert sat back down and took a few deep breaths. When he was a bit calmer, he tried to appeal to his friend's common sense. "We are no longer snot-nosed little brats. We are two intelligent adults who once upon a time were closer than brothers. There must be a way to rekindle that relationship. It is my dearest wish."
  
  "It is my wish as well, Robert." Ned reluctantly took his seat in front of the desk again. "Unfortunately, things are not that simple as they were when we lived at the Vale where our biggest issue was avoiding the wrath of Lord Arryn." A small smile fluttered over his face at the memory. "I am who I am, Robert. I am true to my word or try to be as best I can. I can only respect you as my King if you do not harm the people unjustly and if your claim to the throne is legitimate."
  
  Ned studied his friend and attempted to hide once more how troubled he was, how conflicted. He tried to repeat his mantra in his head. But it was not easy with Robert sitting in front of him like that to recall that he could only serve one King and that that was Jon. He almost startled when Robert responded to his last words.
  
  "Let us compromise then. I will reserve the right to defend myself against pretenders, dragonriders or anyone else that threatens my throne and my people without a rightful claim. If ever Targaryens show up in Westeros, I will not have them murdered just because they carry the name of their house. I will arrest them and we will find a suitable way to deal with them together. History will not repeat itself!"
  
  He stressed that last sentence by raising his voice a bit. He then went on in a normal volume but his determination was apparent by the emphasis he put on his next words. "I will not tolerate pretenders though and I will not entertain the thought of marrying the Princess Daenerys in case you might get that idea in that stubborn honourable head of yours. I cannot erase years of hatred against House Targaryen just like that. It might be the rational thing to do knowing all that we know now but I am human after all. To repeat your own words 'I am who I am' , Ned."
  
  "Fair enough. Where do we go from here, Robert?" Ned asked resigned to the fact that this was as good a promise as he would get today.
  
  Ned and Robert gazed at each other, earnest blue eyes meeting questioning grey ones. "We rule together, you as Hand, I as King. I can overrule you but as promised before, death sentences will only be carried out if we both agree on them. That is a very significant concession that I grant you Ned. I make it to my friend, not to my Hand. Do you accept?"
  
  This time Ned didn't hesitate. "I accept, Robert. Let us start again and let matters progress naturally. I have the best interest of the Seven Kingdoms in mind."
  
  "Then the matter is settled." Robert looked closely at his friend's honourable face.
  
  "As a friend Ned, let me give you some advice. First of all be wary around some of our advisers. Not all of them have your best interests at heart. And second, you should loosen up somewhat. Enjoy the bit of spare time you have. I am feeling much better lately, much more relaxed and as a consequence I see matters more clearly. A bit of female company might help you there."
  
  Robert held up his hand to stall his friend from protesting. "I didn't mean it that way, there are other ways to enjoy female company. But then again, why not ask Lady Catelyn to come to King's Landing. Total abstinence is not healthy, Ned. We are still full blooded males in the prime of our life, aren't we? Your right hand might get injured if you use it too frequently. It is more rewarding if a soft female hand, or a warm mouth handles that appendage, you must know that by now." Robert made an internal bet that Ned would make a beeline for the door now and he was right.
  
  "On that note it is time that I retired, Robert, or do you have some business of state we need to discuss before the small council meeting that is scheduled for tomorrow?" Ned was halfway to the door when Robert answered.
  
  "Well, perhaps I should forewarn you that I intend to give you a big assignment during the course of that meeting." Robert taunted his friend with a twinkle in his eyes. "A tournament Ned! You must organise the greatest tournament King's Landing has seen in many years."
  
  Ned went to his room, mentally exhausted after the talk with Robert. He had tried to stay true to Jon's cause, but what a fine line had he been forced to walk. He cursed the circumstances that made it necessary that he was the one destined to play this duplicitous part. He needed to visit to the Godswood. He needed to ease his conscience at least a little bit. Why could the Gods not give them a clear timeline? It would make things more bearable if he knew when exactly he would be released from this burden.
  
  If his nephew ever asked him to become Hand of the King he would refuse. He had enough of southern politics to last him a lifetime. Even if he grew as old as Maester Aemon or Walder Frey, he would never be put in such a position again if he could help it. He was ready to return to his beloved North.
  
  He would give almost anything to be back at Winterfell, see his children that he missed more every day and bed his wife whose body he craved. Robert was right. It was difficult sleeping alone night after night and he frequently used his right hand and imagined his bed in Winterfell and the warm naked body of his wife when she was in one of her passionate moods. Gods, it really would help him if he knew how long it still was before he could return. Perhaps Catelyn could come to King's Landing if they found someone suitable to care for the children in the meanwhile?"
  
  He would visit the Godswood or what passed for one here in King's Landing and then hopefully he would feel better and start a long letter to send home. Not a message but a long letter with separate scrolls for each of his children and he would send them together with some small gifts on one of his own ships. With all the goings on here in King's Landing and with Jon's looming presence on Dragonstone, he had neglected his loved ones at Winterfell and Bran at Greywater Watch.
  
  A knock on his door startled him. "Enter," he called out, the dismay at being disturbed clearly recognisable in his voice. He was too tired to face whatever the person at the other side of the door wanted from him.
  
  "An urgent message from Winterfell, my Lord." Jory Cassel didn't offer an apology for his obvious unwelcome interruption.
  
  "Just look at the seal, my Lord. I think you will want to read it straight away."
  
  Ned sighed and opened the message written in his brother's hand after checking the seal. He paled and kept staring at the scroll his eyes widening in horror.
  
  Everyone okay at Winterfell?" Jory had witnessed Lord Stark's reactions with growing concern.
  
  "Jory, fetch our own raven keeper. I need to send an urgent message to Dragonstone."
  
  "On it, my Lord." He headed for the door but turned to look at his liege Lord in the doorway, a silent plea for information in his loyal eyes.
  
  "It is Robb. My son has been taken hostage by the Boltons." Lord Stark answered the unspoken question. "Hurry!"
  
  Interlude 24: A puzzle
  
  Tyrion entered the small room where they now broke their fast every morning. It was one of the first things he had changed when they tried to live a life as normal as possible at Casterly Rock. The room had a window in the east wall and most mornings the sun shone right upon the table where Tommen and Myrcella broke their fast in his company. He had always hated the pompous state room where his father had insisted they take every meal, even the informal morning meals.
  
  His niece and nephew had adapted to their new lives seamlessly as children are often wont to do. Even though it was perhaps no longer right to call them children. Myrcella had recently celebrated her sixteenth nameday, Tommen was only four years her junior.
  
  They looked happy enough. Little did they know they were on house arrest. The Maester who supervised the teachers he had hired for them gave Tyrion excellent reports and he had not witnessed a major quarrel between the siblings. They got along nicely and kept each other company even though they had different interests.
  
  Myrcella would sit in a corner when Tommen got his sword training lessons, either reading some book or embroidering a piece of cloth. Her brother partnered her when she insisted on more dancing lessons even though Tyrion knew Tommen hated dancing. He accompanied her to the small market inside the castle walls and they often went riding or hiking together. If Myrcella sometimes complained to her uncle that she got another blister, she still indulged Tommen the next time he asked her to go on another hike.
  
  It was not much of a burden to be responsible for them. He only needed to see to it that they did not venture beyond the borders of the lands belonging directly to the castle. They were the most lovable children he had ever known. And he was sure that they would still be when they got used to living at the Rock and no longer clang to each other's company for dear life.
  
  He loved hearing them make plans every morning. It made him feel less guilty for acceding to Lord Stark's demands so readily. Seeing his niece and nephew interact made it all worthwhile. He would see to it that they still had a future no matter the cost to his honour or to the family name. His father would turn around in his grave if he knew Tyrion valued happiness higher than his assembled power and the Lannister reputation.
  
  Tyrion mentally shook his head. Either his father wasn't dead yet or if he was he didn't have a grave worthy of the name. So turning around in his grave was probably too much to ask of the man that sired him against his will. He was glad Tommen and Myrcella entered the cosy room so he could forget about his absentee father for now and go back to pretending that Tywin Lannister had never existed in the first place.
  
  "Uncle, will you come along today when we go see that new foal that was born yesterday? You promised us you would?" Tommen who had celebrated his twelfth nameday more than six moons ago looked like a six year old when he pouted.
  
  Myrcella laughed. "He cannot say no, Tommen. He promised the stable boy he would thank him personally and bring him a small gift in the event he managed to save both mother and foal when he assisted the mare in giving birth. And you know what they say..."
  
  'A Lannister always pays his debts.' Both siblings finished the sentence and Tyrion chimed in on the last part as well. They all exchanged smiles.
  
  "How can I refuse the request of my favourite niece and nephew?" He sobered though reminding himself that Tommen had not always been his only nephew and that perhaps the old joke was now in bad taste.
  
  His charges however did not seem bothered and laughed heartily. "Can I offer you another oatcake, Uncle Tyrion?" Myrcella held the plate with deliciously smelling cakes in front of him.
  
  "Thank you Myrcella. You are a godsend, you both are." He accepted a small cake.
  
  He cursed himself for his sudden maudlin mood. Tommen and Myrcella were happy. Why disturb them. It was not their fault that they hardly missed their parents, nor Joffrey nor Uncle Jaime. None of them had ever given the children much attention. Tommen and Myrcella were practically raised by servants and had lived at the royal court where they had to behave much more circumspect than here at the Rock. Here they already felt much more at home and Tyrion gave them all the attention he could spare when he was not dealing with the trouble of keeping the Rock solvent.
  
  "Let us go after lunch, though. I still need to take care of some business before I have some leisure time. Besides, do you not have lessons to attend to?" He gently reminded them of their duties.
  
  "Yes Uncle." They answered in unison and smiled at each other.
  
  Tyrion sat in his solar and waited for Bronn to arrive. The Maester had just retired to his own study after discussing some small matters and had left a few personal messages for the Lord of Casterly Rock. One was marked with the secret seal that Lord Stark had showed him. He wondered when Eddard Stark would reveal his real purpose. Tyrion was close to figuring it out but knew something was eluding him. Things didn't add up. He still missed an important piece of the puzzle. He would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did. He was much closer to figuring it out than he had been that fateful afternoon at Winterfell.
  
  Flashback: Winterfell, some time after Bran's incident at the old tower
  
  "You summoned me, Lord Stark?" Tyrion had entered the solar of the Lord of Winterfell curious to know what might be so urgent. Winterfell had felt empty. Almost everyone had left to join the hunt and although he had not been up when the party left, he knew that Lord Stark had led the hunting party personally. He had overheard two servants gossip in the hallway debating over who had looked the most handsome, the current Lord or his heir.
  
  "I did. Thank you me for joining me so swiftly. Sit down, Lord Tyrion. We have a lot to discuss."
  
  Lord Stark had looked rather pale. But Tyrion had not paid attention to it at the time. He had only been disappointed that Lord Stark had not seen fit to offer him any wine. At that time that was one of the things that shaped his days. How his life had changed after the royal visit to Winterfell.
  
  "Your guard didn't leave me much of a choice, my Lord. He was a bit high handed. I might complain if I were a man who was easily offended." He climbed awkwardly upon the chair that was rather high for his stature.
  
  "Well, I am afraid that this talk won't lift your spirits if they are already down, Lord Tyrion. But enough with the niceties. The situation is dire and we need to come to a consensus the two of us to stave off more disaster." Lord Stark's had uttered, his voice grave.
  
  "My Lord?" Tyrion had immediately become alert, knowing Lord Stark was not prone to exaggeration. "Is there a problem I can assist you with?"
  
  "It is not me that has a problem, Lord Tyrion. It is you, or more precisely House Lannister. The Queen and your brother have been caught, how shall I put it, in compromising circumstances in the old tower. Their, and I do not misspeak, their bastards' lives are in jeopardy as are the lives of your siblings." The Lord of Winterfell had stated this in the same grave tone.
  
  "What happened? What do you mean?" Lord Tyrion's brain had been working overtime then. He had guessed full well what had been discovered but had needed to stall for time to find a way to get everyone to safety.
  
  "My son, Bran discovered both of them in the old tower. He likes climbing you see. Your brother's solution was to try and murder the only witness and pushed Bran from the tower." Lord Stark's tone had been outright condemning. His dark grey eyes had not made an attempt to conceal the contempt he felt for Ser Jaime's deed.
  
  Tyrion had gasped, immediately grasping that the situation was even more serious than by his first estimation. "I hope the little Lord was wearing his climbing gear and is all right?" He had asked showing his honest concern for the boy's wellbeing.
  
  Lord Stark had looked surprised at Tyrion's sincere tone and that he had been aware of his surroundings enough to know about Bran's tools. Tyrion surmised the Lord had hardly seen him during that visit except at meals half in his cups.
  
  "He is all right, but that doesn't excuse the actions of your brother. He clearly intended to murder my son. You do realise that it is not my wrath alone you should fear, Lord Tyrion. How do you reckon the King will react when he hears that his wife has been cuckolding him with her twin brother almost from the very first moment they were married and that the rumours that he has no trueborn children are true? The matter cannot be concealed. There are witnesses."
  
  Tyrion had of course realised that and had already been thinking two steps ahead. He had needed more information and quickly before the hunting party would eventually return. "Where are my siblings and my niece and nephews, if I may ask, my Lord? I guess the King has not yet returned from the hunt?"
  
  "Your siblings are unharmed for the time being. They are locked up in the old tower. Your niece and youngest nephew are safe inside the castle. I have put them under the protection of Lady Brienne and Lord Tyrell. Prince Joffrey, or should I call him Joffrey Waters is still enjoying the hunt."
  
  Tyrion had stayed silent after receiving that information. He had realised their future was destroyed. Joffrey would never be King but that aspect didn't bother him as much. That was actually for the best. However, sweet Tommen's and Myrcella's lives were over as well. He didn't mind the fact that he might lose everything as well. He was used to being despised because he had been born a dwarf. He would make do one way or another.
  
  Tommen and Myrcella on the other hand had lived so sheltered and pampered. They were in for a rude awakening if they were allowed to live. That last thought had made him look up at Lord Stark, the panic barely concealed in his mismatched eyes. "Tommen and Myrcella are innocent." It had come out as a desperate plea despite his best efforts.
  
  "I will not let anyone hurt them." Lord Stark's resolute voice had calmed him immediately.
  
  "Let me reassure you, Lord Tyrion. I will not let anyone harm them. I am willing to face the wrath of my King if need be. If he orders them to be killed, I would have you flee with them before anyone gets a chance to hurt one hair on their heads. And I include Joffrey in this statement as well. I am sure it was an oversight due to the circumstances and not an intentional slight towards your eldest nephew." Lord Stark had studied him closely and Tyrion had tried not to flinch.
  
  He had kept his voice firm. "Indeed. And what do you ask in return for your help, Lord Stark? I reckon I will owe you?"
  
  "I fear some sacrifice will be required of you. But most of these sacrifices will be made to convince the King that House Lannister will pose no threat to his rule. I asked you here so we could come up with a plan to contain the King's ire as much as possible and to make sure that most of you can leave Winterfell alive. I know you have a big brain in that small body of yours Lord Tyrion. Now is the time to put it to use. What do we tell the King, how do we make sure your niece and nephews still have a semblance of a life after all of this?"
  
  To Lord Tyrion's amazement they had put together a feasible plan and it had all worked out in the end. They hadn't needed to use the contingency plan where he stole away as a thief in the night with the three children of his siblings. Lord Stark had amazed him on several occasions. He had known about the Stark honour and the reputation of his house but that were just words. He had witnessed that honour and sense of justice at work and had been full of admiration for the current Lord of Winterfell.
  
  Even when Eddard Stark had demanded that Lord Tyrion as regent of the Westerlands and temporarily head of House Lannister in the absence of Lord Tywin Lannister signed away all the crown debts and vowed not to fight the annulment of the marriage between his sister and the King nor the removal of their children from the line of succession, Tyrion had easily convinced himself that the lives of the children were worth that sacrifice.
  
  Stark had further demanded that Lord Tyrion would only deal with local politics and not interfere in matters of the realm. Even if the King made the decision to appoint a new Warden of the West, Lord Tyrion would not fight that either. The only assurance he gave him was that the personally property of House Lannister, the Keep, the ground belonging to it including the gold mines would still be theirs. He gave is oath as a Stark that he could pull that off. And so it had happened. House Lannister still owned Casterly Rock and everything that came with it.
  
  But then the tone of the conversation had changed. Lord Stark had become more mysterious and they had discussed things that never could be repeated before the Lord of Winterfell granted him permission. He had hinted he would soon have the power to control the children's' fate and promised to see to it that they would be legalised and that the realm would recognise them as trueborn Lannisters.
  
  The 'honourable' Eddard Stark had even hinted that somehow Robert's reign might be doomed. If Lord Tyrion swore fealty to him in secret here and now he would see to it that as soon as power switched hands, House Lannister but more specifically Lord Tyrion would be reinstated as Warden of the West and that Tommen would be the next Lord Lannister and his heir.
  
  If ever Tywin Lannister miraculously returned, the man would no longer have a claim to the titles and assets of House Lannister. Tywin Lannister would be stripped of his titles and possessions as punishment for former misdeeds. Lord Tyrion didn't need to worry about the details. Lord Stark would also do his utmost to negotiate excellent matches for Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey should make his own way in life, the powerful Lord had stated without blushing.
  
  And so his life had changed. Tyrion had left Winterfell by the grace of King Robert and had been allowed to take his surviving niece and nephew with him. The death of Joffrey had been a bit of a relief if he was entirely honest with himself. The last night that he had spoken to the spoiled brat still gave him nightmares. The little bastard had sealed his own fate when he attacked the King. Anyway he had left the Northern stronghold and had been ordered to take the Lannister contingent that had accompanied the royal caravan with him as well.
  
  He had a letter from Lord Stark addressed to the Lords of the North and the Riverlands in his pocket granting him and his retinue safe passage as long as they were headed south towards the Rock. The journey home had taken only half the time compared to how long the pompous journey north had lasted, even if they had been slowed down by the wagon carrying the remains of his deceased nephew.
  
  He had spent a lot of time on the road wondering at the words and the promise Lord Stark had extorted from him. But he would give it again gladly if it meant that Tommen and Myrcella would receive a good chance at a decent live. No matter how they were sired, they were his niece and nephew and he loved them dearly. He only hoped Lord Stark could live up to his promises and keep Jaime and Cersei alive. No matter what had happened, they were still his siblings.
  
  Lord Stark had even let him talk to Jaime one last time. He had hardly recognised the golden lion when he had seen the dejected man that had barely greeted him when he had entered the tower where the twins had been caught and that served now as Jaime's prison cell. Cersei had been incarcerated elsewhere but Tyrion had not asked to say goodbye to her. She would probably have ignored him and he wouldn't have known what to say to her anyway.
  
  It had taken some time before he got through to Jaime. When he finally had done so, his older brother had cried in Tyrion's lap. "I am so sorry Tyrion. I am so sorry. If only I could take it all back."
  
  "Well you can't." Tyrion had remarked awkwardly not familiar with the reversal of their roles. How did you comfort an older brother who had always had everything going for him when you were the one who had always been side-lined and his only good memories were of Jaime helping him by shielding him from their father's ire and of the one time Tyrion had cried with his head in Jaime's lap.
  
  "How is Cersei? Have you seen her?" Jaime had asked his words barely understandable as they were muttered against Tyrion's thigh.
  
  "Are you not concerned about the fate of your children? You know what happened to Prince Rhaegar's offspring." Tyrion had been offended that his brother's first thoughts were of his twin. Things never changed.
  
  "I couldn't help them even though I swore Prince Rhaegar I would protect them. How can I help my own children?"
  
  "By not fighting was has been agreed upon, by accepting your fate." Tyrion had been glad these words had gotten through to his brother.
  
  Jaime had sat up when he heard that. "You know? They told you what their plans are?"
  
  "Lord Stark did." Tyrion had replied. "That man is an enigma. He is the children's greatest advocate, Jaime. He is willing to brave the King's punishment and will allow me flee with all three of them before the Baratheons get the chance to harm them. He has taken them in protective custody and hasn't told the King of their whereabouts."
  
  "At least that is something. You won't tell me about Cersei?"
  
  He hadn't been able to resist the plea in his brother's eyes then. "Lord Stark has promised to do everything in his power to prevent King Robert from executing her. I trust the man, Jaime. He may not be our friend but he is an ally, strange as it may seem. He promised me House Lannister gets to keep the Rock." Tyrion hesitated wondering if he should say more. "Between you and me, and I will deny I ever said it, so do not breathe a word of this to anybody, he promised that in time he would see to it that Tommen would be legalised and recognised as the next Lord of Casterly Rock. He gave me his word."
  
  "And you believe him?" Jaime's words had been spoken more with hope than with doubt.
  
  Tyrion had believed it at the time and still believed it now. He had not hesitated to reassure his brother. "I do. I believe him, Jaime. Let it be your consolation that whatever fate befalls you, your son will continue our house and our name."
  
  "What will happen to me? Will your honourable ally take my head off personally or will my lot be to freeze to death at the Wall?"
  
  "I do not know." Tyrion had stated honestly. "I pray the Wall. With your abilities, you could take over that sorry brotherhood in no time. And even if you are not allowed to leave, you could build a life for yourself and create some of your own rules. At least you will live and I'll write to you about the rest of us." Tyrion had embraced his brother knowing full well that it might be the very last chance he got to do that.
  
  "I am sorry, Tyrion. I really am. I never meant for you all to suffer for the things I did. If only I had resisted Cersei all these years ago." Jaime had clung to him for dear life.
  
  Tyrion had disentangled them with some effort. He had looked his brother in the eye. "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. That is water under the bridge, Jaime. Best not dwell too much on the past. Think of others for a change and behave yourself. Even if Lord Stark has a lot of influence with the King right now, one outburst from you can undo all the good work Eddard Stark has put into persuading the King to show some leniency to the remnants of House Lannister. We could lose the Rock. Tommen and Myrcella might be taken away and be put to work as servants, or worse."
  
  In the end his brother had seen reason and had become somewhat reconciled to his fate or something resembling that at least. Tyrion had left the next day knowing he might never see any of his siblings ever again.
  
  Present: Back at the Rock
  
  So here he sat at his father's desk. He was now responsible for House Lannister and his niece and nephew. The most important thing was to get the finances of House Lannister sound again. They had counted on the reimbursement of the Crown's debt to keep solvent but now that he had signed away that gold he needed to find other sources of income. First order of business had been to appoint a new kennel master. Their region was famous for training hounds and ever since the Cleganes had upped and left, things had not been run as efficiently.
  
  He also had summoned the major farmers and had heard their grievances. They had been given some means but most of all sound advice on how to reorganise their farms. Tyrion had vowed to help them out and to visit them in person to appraise their needs. He had promised that each farmer that implemented the new farming practices would receive livestock financed by House Lannister. More specifically they would get two horses and the choice between five cows or ten sheep. They had all left promising to start implementing the ameliorations immediately.
  
  Now the only thing left to do was to hear the latest reports from the Lannister gold mines. Bronn had not let him down. Ever since he had asked him to look into things, the revenue of the mines had increased. Bronn had explained in his reports that the previous overseers had been too lazy and only given orders to mine where the mineral could easily be reached. Bronn had instructed them to build ladders and dig new shafts and things had progressed from there.
  
  He looked up when he saw Bronn enter with a big grin on his face. "How much were you willing to pay me if I turned the damned things around?" The former sellsword said without a greeting as he sat down in his nonchalant way Tyrion was used to by now.
  
  Tyrion rather liked the man who had no manners whatsoever and spoke out loud whatever he was thinking. It was refreshing and easy in a way to deal with him. You didn't have to second guess his motivations. They were clear as hell: gold, more gold and lots of female company. Bronn needed no more than that. Tyrion was more than willing to give him that as long as he kept the mines solvent and perhaps even have them showing a nice profit again from the looks of things.
  
  "My, are you in a good mood." Tyrion laughed. "Had a good whore in your bed last night?"
  
  "Two as a matter of fact if you really want to know. You should come with me sometime. I will fucking set you up. I am sure someone is willing to blow that tiny prick of yours." His friendly tone softened the arrogance of his words.
  
  Tyrion took no offence, he even considered for a fraction of a moment to take him up on his offer. "I am good thanks. What news, my friend."
  
  "Let's renegotiate our deal. I want a percentage of the yield. Not only a fucking salary."
  
  Tyrion's heart skipped a beat. That demand bode well. He kept his face blank however. "You want both? Unacceptable. Let's say I cut your salary in half and you get two per cent."
  
  "Ten and I keep my salary."
  
  "Five and you get no salary whatsoever. But you only get the percentage as long as you work for me."
  
  "Seven." Bronn said in his nonchalant manner but Tyrion could see the steel in his eyes. The man meant business.
  
  "Deal. Now tell me just how much gold you have he found in those mines of mine?" Tyrion settled back in his chair. This was going to be good. If Bronn waved away his salary then he must have found a treasure.
  
  "I found a new vein! We just need to expose it and that can take more than a moon if we do not want the damn thing to collapse but we struck gold. Literally!" Bronn's features said it all. The man glowed almost as brightly as Lannister gold.
  
  "I'll want to see that with my own eyes." Tyrion was getting caught up in Bronn's excitement.
  
  "Well, what the hells are you waiting for? I am not going to fucking carry you. Get those little legs moving. I have a horse ready for you, Lord Dwarf." The man was already halfway to the door when he looked back to check whether Tyrion was coming.
  
  Tyrion jumped of his chair and followed Bronn not in the least bothered by the new surname. They had struck gold! He no longer needed to contemplate accepting Lord Frey's offer to choose a bride amongst his daughters or granddaughters in order to receive his bride's weight in gold.
  
  Later that night in his bed, for the first time in a long while Tyrion was at peace. Things were starting to look up. Their finances were back on track. He could once more have a fully staffed and equipped houseguard and train enough soldiers to defend his borders if need be. The farmers would get all the support they needed and the next harvest would be plentiful. A heavy load left his shoulders. Tommen's future was secure. Now he only needed Lord Stark's help to legalize the boy before he became aware of the stigma that came with his bastard status. Here at the Rock nobody dared raise the issue. Tyrion had seen to that. Everyone addressed his nephew as Lord Tommen and the boy didn't think twice about it. He looked happy here at the Rock and never questioned that it might not be his to inherit. Tommen seemed glad that he was no longer destined to be King. Life was simple when you were that young.
  
  Now he only needed to find a betrothed for Myrcella. As soon as she was legalised with the large dowry he could bestow on her, he would be able to find a good match. Perhaps he didn't really need the help of Lord Stark for that. He still had time though. He needed to wait for whatever change in power Lord Stark had hinted at that would soon be coming.
  
  Free of his troubles, his mind focussed once more on the puzzle he had been trying to solve for moons now, the hidden motives of the Lord of Winterfell. Tyrion had a lot of pieces of the puzzle already. He just needed to see how they fit together and perhaps find a few missing ones. He was close to figuring it out. He felt his brain grasp for something that was just out of its reach. He would read the message from Eddard Stark again tomorrow morning. Perhaps there was some clue hidden in there that he hadn't discovered yet. Once more he mentally reviewed the pieces he had gathered so far.
  
  The North was prospering more than ever. He had seen Winterfell and had questioned several servants. They had told him all about the building of the second wall, the new glass gardens with pride in their voices. They all worshipped the current Lord Stark. On his way back he had seen the new fortress and town of Moat Cailin. He was sure Lord Stark had somehow redirected the royal caravan to keep the King from seeing the new stronghold in such a strategic place. The man was a lot more cunning than anyone thought possible.
  
  He had kept his ears open and had learned about the northern fleet of over a hundred ships strong. In the Riverlands they had confirmed that House Tully also had several ships at Seagard that were under the command of their good brother Lord Stark. In the taverns he had heard more details of the attack of the Ironborn on the Stony Shore and was convinced there were dragons and somehow Lord Stark knew about them and wasn't worried. Some rumours went as far as proclaiming the dragonrider a Stark or a Snow.
  
  The Targaryen Princess also had ties to the Northern Kingdom. Add to that Lord Stark's hints about Robert's ending reign and him swearing loyalty to Lord Stark and not the King, there was a rebellion brewing.
  
  The only missing piece was who would be the next King of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if he had detected a new side to Lord Stark, he couldn't believe that the noble Warden of the North would usurp his friend's throne and sit upon it himself or give it to his heir. There had to be something he was missing. There had to be someone he was overlooking. It couldn't be the Princess. Perhaps there was a dragonrider with mixed blood. Perhaps Benjen or Brandon Stark had sired a son with a woman of Valyrian decent.
  
  He was almost sure he was on the right track, he had confronted Ned Stark about the rumours days before the Bran incident and Lord Stark had appeared flustered and laughed everything away. The man had looked uneasy though. Tyrion was on the right track. He only needed to find the missing link.
  
  Anyway, for now everything Lord Stark had asked him to do, Tyrion had been more than happy to comply. He could boast that he had helped to bring Petyr Baelish down, even if it had cost him days of going over boring numbers to find the well-hidden manipulations of the former Master of Coin. He hoped his spy from the capital would arrive soon so he could hear all about the trial in detail. He regretted that they were all still on house arrest so to speak and couldn't leave the Rock but he had given Lord Stark his word. Besides, life at the Rock nowadays was like living in one of the Seven Heavens compared to the years when his father had still been around.
  
  And he had to admit he liked a puzzle that was complex enough to take him some time to solve. Finding the right solution was always so much more rewarding when he finally did.
  
  A sennight later after his informant had told him in detail what had happened at Baelish's trial, Tyrion knew he had found the last piece of the puzzle. Lyanna Stark had married Prince Rhaegar! Now he only needed to locate their child, the one with the blood of a dragon that Lord Stark would consider the rightful heir to the throne and part of his pack. There was a dragonrider and he was an ally to the North, even a close kin to House Stark.
  
  Tyrion had done the right thing after all. He had aligned himself with the winning side in the coming conflict. Now he only needed to be smart and use this information to the benefit of his house. It had been the most rewarding puzzle he had solved in years. Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar, who would have thought...
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter we finally get a glimpse of what is happening at the Dreadfort.
  
  The red priest Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric of house Dondarrion do not fare well at Storm's End either.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A wolf in trouble
  Chapter 25: A wolf in troube
  
  Summary:
  
  Robb is in dire need of rescue.
  
  The interlude takes us to the Stormlands.
  
  Notes:
  
  Warning: VIOLENCE, character death and mutilation
  
  Boltons appear on the scene, so be warned. This chapter is not for the faint-hearted. Read at your own peril.
  
  Extra kudo's for Ravenousreadr my ever helpful beta.
  
  Before we start I need to answer to more questions:
  
  Garlan: There is not Garlan. In the notes of chapter 14 I clearly state that in my universe Mace Tyrell has only three children, Willas, Loras and Margaery.
  
  Varys: Why is Varys whispering in Robert's ear? To discredit Ned. When King Roberts believes in Ned he wants to do his friend proud and moderates his drinking and whoring and even uses his brains for ruling. If he doubts Ned, he will resort to whoring and drinking. At least that is Varys' plan. Varys walks a fine line to make sure that Ned comes to no harm. All he gives Robert are whispers, not a shred of proof.
  
  Chapter text
  
  The sun had long since reached its highest peak when Jon saw the towers of the Dreadfort appear in the distance. It had not been a straightforward journey. First his bout of illness had prevented him from leaving that very same day that the call for help had arrived. His stomach had not been able to hold solid food until late that evening. His worry for Robb probably had not helped matters. And even he had been forced to concede that it would have been irresponsible to leave in the middle of the night still feeling as weak as he did.
  
  Sam had once more proven to be very loyal and extremely useful. His dear friend had done everything he could to distract Jon's mind so his stomach could start to settle. He had read him an interesting, riveting part of a diary of one of Jon's ancestors he had found on Dragonstone. At some point, probably phase two of Sam's premeditated plan, the tale had become longwinded and Sam had tempered his voice and had started to read slower until Jon had been lulled to sleep and had slept for at least half a day. Without a doubt, if not for Sam, his voyage would have been delayed even further. The bedrest had settled his stomach enough to be able to depart not long after dawn.
  
  Rhaegal who could sense his condition would have refused to take off earlier anyway. Even when Jon had felt somewhat better that morning, Rhaegal had been reluctant to start the long trip north.
  
  Jon was glad he had had the presence of mind to ask Ser Gerold and Sam to inform Uncle Ned of his plans. Uncle Benjen would certainly have sent a raven to King's Landing as well. Right before he departed, they had indeed gotten the call for help in the form of a short scroll from Eddard Stark. They hadn't needed to reply however. The raven they had sent earlier was already more than halfway to King's Landing.
  
  The first leg of the journey the dragons had not flown at full speed and had avoided unnecessary movements. The fact that they had hit some strong headwinds hadn't helped matters. They had stopped early on their first day and Jon, drained of the little strength he had started off with, had slept later than planned. Of course neither Rhaegal nor Viserion had seen fit to wake him at first light. That meant the journey had taken him almost three days.
  
  They landed in the woods near the haphazard encampment not to scare the men too much that had shown up to help free the heir of Winterfell. Jon quickly partook of some light food and drink before jogging the short distance to meet up with the rescuing party that had gathered at a safe distance from the walls of the Dreadfort.
  
  He halted when he spotted that his uncle was coming towards him to meet him halfway. Jon was still somewhat out of breath when his uncle reached him. Even though it had been three days since his bout of illness, he hadn't regained all his strength yet. Benjen Stark took the final steps to close the gap between them and threw his arms around Jon. Jon felt his uncle shake.
  
  "I failed him, Jon. I was right there and I let him go out, not bothering to check where he went or with whom. He should never have been able to go to the brothel without an escort and certainly not with Theon Greyjoy. I failed him."
  
  Jon felt his uncle's desperation keenly and tried to lessen his burden by sharing the blame. "We all did. Uncle Ned did as well. We should have had Ramsay Snow apprehended and not have allowed Theon as many privileges. Any other body parts?"
  
  Jon was very relieved to see his uncle shake his head. Hopefully it stayed that way. Losing the tip of his little finger was a loss that would not cripple his cousin. It had been severed at the first joint below the nail. They didn't know yet whether it was his left or right hand that had been mutilated.
  
  Jon paid no attention to his surroundings nor to the strange looks he got and let his uncle steer him to a large tent that had been erected in all haste by the looks of it.
  
  "Inside you will find the representatives of the principal bannermen of House Stark who live close enough to reach us this quickly. We were holding a war council when the guards informed me that there were two dragons approaching." Benjen Stark who had regained his composure gave his nephew a significant look.
  
  "I know, Uncle. We'll deal with the fallout. Let us just rescue Robb from these vile Boltons." Jon had barely taken his first steps inside the tent when he was pushed on the ground with force.
  
  "Ouch! Greywind, down boy! He ran his hand through the animal's smokey grey pelt. "It is all right, I am here. We'll save Robb together."
  
  The direwolf calmed and obeyed immediately so Jon could get up. He dusted off his coat and hugged the wolf. He put his forehead on the animal's large head and tried to reach his mind. He immediately sensed Ghost's presence. 'Of course! Greywind would have made an attempt to contact Ghost.' He tried to calm both wolves and reassured them Robb would be safe before Ghost could even get there. He felt Ghost running straight for the Dreadfort. His loyal friend would arrive in less than two days.
  
  As soon as Jon broke his connection with both of them he became more aware of the rumours and stares. He noticed the men around him look between him, Greywind and Uncle Benjen with consternation.
  
  "Better introduce me formally, Uncle. I will need to use my dragons, right? Better not lie to these proud men but appeal to their honour and tell them it will be Eddard Stark that will face the Baratheon King's wrath if they let word of who I really am get out too soon." Jon spoke at a normal volume on purpose.
  
  A tense silence followed his words. Everyone close enough to hear them stood rooted to the spot. It was the Greatjon that broke the stalemate and stepped forward. "Benjen Stark, we demand an explanation! Is this young man a Stark or a Snow?"
  
  "Is this the dragonrider that saved the Stony Shore?" Lord Karstark also found the courage to speak up now that the spell had been broken.
  
  "He is a dragonrider. I saw two dragons fly over! Will he burn us after he burns the Boltons and take the North away from us?" Someone else called out from the back of the tent.
  
  "Silence!" Benjen Stark's command could be heard by everyone inside as well as outside the tent. He had stepped in front of Jon. "Give me a chance to explain. Nobody will be burned or threatened. This young man has come here with the sole purpose of saving his cousin." Benjen Stark's eyes stared daggers at his audience warning everyone away from Jon.
  
  "Uncle," Jon touched his uncle's arm and gave him a reassuring look.
  
  "Right," his uncle swallowed a few times to regain his composure and turned so he stood side by side with his nephew and they both faced the Lords of the North together. "Lords of the North, loyal bannermen and everyone before me that is a true friend to House Stark and heeded our call for help, may I introduce my kin to you?"
  
  A few shocked expressions could be heard. Jon heard the name 'Brandon Stark' being mentioned. Benjen didn't wait for new outbursts. He put his hand on Jon's shoulder and continued his voice loud and firm so everyone could hear. "You can all see how much the young man standing next to me resembles my brother Ned. However, those of you who were fortunate enough to know my sister Lyanna will believe me when I tell you that she was the one who gave birth to him."
  
  "I owe my life to this young man who was raised in secret under the supervision of House Stark. You see before you a true son of the North who worships the old Gods and shares our beliefs and our way of life. But he is more than that. He is also a Prince by birth. Even if a fierce northern woman, a noble daughter of House Stark birthed him, he carries the name of the House of his father, of the Prince my sister married in secret."
  
  He turned his head in all directions to give each and every one a firm meaningful look before continuing. "My Lords, I strongly urge you to welcome him to the North as a kinsman and loyal ally of House Stark. Before you stands Prince Aegon Targaryen, my nephew and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Princess Lyanna formerly of House Stark."
  
  A tense silence ensued. Jon gave Uncle Benjen a small sign and climbed a small sturdy looking crate so he towered over his audience. He mostly saw bewildered faces, only a few still looked at him with scepticism if not outright hostility.
  
  "Most hounourable Lords, please hear me out. I have known Robb Stark ever since he was a skinny boy barely counting eleven namedays. He is my cousin and I love him dearly. The only reason I have come here today is to rescue him. I apologize if you feel that we kept my identity a secret from you for so long. It was done to keep all of us safe, me as well as all of you who are loyal to Lord Stark. If the Baratheon King had gotten wind of my existence and how House Stark had sheltered and protected me all these years, it would not only have been Lord Stark's life that would have been forfeit. His wife, his children and most likely several of his loyal bannermen would have been executed just so the King could set an example. I am sure the North remembers how my half-sister, her baby brother and her mother were brutally murdered."
  
  He took a deep breath and spoke louder now conveying his unwavering conviction and willingness to see things through. "I have come here today with one and one goal only. Today nothing else matters. Today is about saving Robb of House Stark, son of your Liege Lord Eddard of House Stark and heir to the North. I will not leave before Robb Stark is out of the clutches of his kidnappers."
  
  Jon scanned the small crowd and noticed the Greatjon nod his head in silent approval but still a few faces looked at him with some distrust. He changed his tone slightly so it would not seem that he was taking the lead and would order these men around. He took another deep breath. "My Lords, today, here and now, Let us forget about politics and focus on the noble reason why we have all gathered here. Every single one of us has the same purpose. We all want to free Robb of House Stark from the Dreadfort and return the heir alive and well to Winterfell. Knowing the reputation of House Bolton and more specifically of Ramsay Snow, time is of the essence if we want to save my dear cousin before he has been mutilated more seriously than he already has been."
  
  Seeing consenting nods all around his courage rose. "I have brought two large dragons to help. We need a plan that will avoid making unnecessary casualties amongst the innocent smallfolk and servants that live at the Dreadfort and I will not put any of you in harm's way. Who will assist Uncle Benjen and me to devise such a plan to free Robb Stark?"
  
  The silence that ensued was broken by a bit of commotion at the entrance of the tent. All heads turned that way.
  
  'I will!"
  
  The first one to break the silence and offer support was... a Bolton.
  
  "I will!" The young man that now strode over to Jon repeated. "Domeric of House Bolton, at your service, my Prince. I take no part in the schemes of my father nor those of my half-brother's. I may not have been at the Dreadfort these past few moons but I have knowledge of all entrances and I know the location where Ramsay Snow usually keeps his victims. I can help you if you will allow me to."
  
  "Thank you," Jon nodded at the heir to the Dreadfort. "Will anyone else help us come up with a sound plan?"
  
  The Greatjon Umber was the first to give a resounding "Aye, count me in. Let us work together today."
  
  Lord Halys of House Hornwood was next and soon every Lord present offered his assistance.
  
  "For Robb Stark!" someone shouted.
  
  "Free Robb Stark!" A few others chimed in.
  
  Jon wondered if Ramsay Snow would still be as bold trapped inside his dreary Dreadfort if he could hear these shouts. He waited for them to vent their feelings knowing that way the tension would lessen and a newfound hope and optimism would help them all to work better together.
  
  "My Lords," he tried to address them once more still standing on the crate. When he had their attention, he used it to warn them once more of the precarious situation they were in now.
  
  "Before we start, I must entreat you to adhere to your Liege Lord's wishes and keep my real identity a secret for a little while longer. Bear in mind that the honourable Warden of the North is at the moment fulfilling the position of Hand of the King in the capital. Word of my identity cannot reach King's Landing yet. It will not do to save Robb Stark here today only to have your Liege Lord be put on trial for treason. He allowed me to come here because he trusts you all to spare no effort to keep House Stark and their kin safe."
  
  He stepped down from the crate and together with his uncle joined the circle the Lords of the North had formed around the crate. They would all put together a plan as equals. Jon discreetly nodded at Domeric Bolton to open the discussion.
  
  The young Lord immediately stepped forward. "Now my Lords, have you ever noticed that the east tower is built slightly different when compared to the other ones..."
  
  With Domeric Bolton's knowledge and the advantage of attacking from the sky as well, they soon had a solid plan in place and just had to wait until dark. After some debate the attack was set to happen in the second part of the night.
  
  Jon had needed to reassure the proud Northmen several times that his dragons posed no threat to them and that he could guarantee that no one in the rescuing party would be in danger of being burned to ashes at any point of the plan.
  
  Jon, certain he would be safe walking amongst the northerners now, even more so with Greywind glued to his side, exited the tent in order to share his plans with his dragons. His uncle would accompany him until he reached the woods. He had only taken two steps outside the tent when someone bumped into him on purpose.
  
  "Jon, I am so relieved you showed up!" Edric exclaimed but made no move to embrace Jon.
  
  "Of course I came as soon as I could! Remember our pact?" Jon managed a small smile and gave him a brief hug before addressing Edric's two companions.
  
  "My Lady," he greeted Brienne of Tarth. "My Lord!" he bowed before Loras who stood there gaping. "Close your mouth, Lord Tyrell. You are much more handsome when you don't show your tonsils." He teased.
  
  "So you are the Jon I met in the Riverlands, the one and the same that Lady Arya mentioned all the time before she suddenly stopped, but you are not Lord Celtigar, not really?" Lady Brienne's question sounded more like an accusation.
  
  "I am the same person. I just go by another name. I am sorry I had to deceive you, my Lady. It was for my safety as well as for yours and everyone connected to me. My cousin Arya is not aware of my real identity either." He had ignored her slightly condemning attitude, keeping his tone cordial.
  
  "My Prince," Lady Brienne of Tarth bowed to him now. "If you have come here to save Robb Stark, you have my sword." She kneeled in front of him and laid her sword at his feet.
  
  "Rise, Lady Brienne. I gladly accept your sword for today. If you implied more than that, we will talk about that later. I refuse to dwell on any other matter until after we have successfully rescued my cousin."
  
  Several Lords of the North had witnessed the scene and Lady Brienne's deference with growing unease. Lord Umber who had exited the tent on Benjen Stark's heels, stepped forward.
  
  "My Prince," he bowed before Jon. "I am sorry we did not give you the respect you are due."
  
  "That is not important right now, Lord Umber. As I told you before, this is not the time for politics. We rescue my cousin first. For now I am just one more man amongst all of you, anxious to see Robb Stark safely back at Winterfell." He smiled at Lord Umber and walked away with big strides, Greywind and his uncle hurrying after him.
  
  "Jon, slow down for a bit. We still have some time before dark."
  
  "I am sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to make it clear that I didn't want anyone following me except you of course, and Greywind." He smiled at his uncle and petted the direwolf. "He is a dear, isn't he?"
  
  "He is now. He has been giving us some trouble these last few days. I have never been nudged and bumped into as much before. I do not think Greywind rested much since Robb went missing. I am glad you are here. Perhaps you can convince him to sleep a bit before our attack." Benjen Stark looked at Greywind who was walking calmly, firmly glued to Jon's side.
  
  "Well he is worried about his master and trusts me to help save him. You will need to keep him with you for a short while though. I better not have him with me when I confer with Rhaegal and Viserion." Jon warned.
  
  "Well then you will need to be the one to make him understand that. I had enough trouble to make him behave on the road here and before you arrived."
  
  He studied his nephew now that they had slowed their steps. "You were later than expected and you look like shit, if you don't mind my saying."
  
  "That is probably because I feel like shit so I don't mind at all. I have been sick, Uncle." Jon admitted. "I had to wait until my stomach could hold solid food before I travelled across Westeros on my own."
  
  "I didn't realise. Now I wonder you are here at all. However did you get permission from Ser Gerold to come here still looking like you do?" Benjen frowned, looking his nephew over in more detail.
  
  "Well he was somewhat understanding this time. I only had to keep solid food in my stomach for half a day and solve a riddle Sam put before me to prove that I was sound of mind and would know what I was doing up in the air." Jon smiled wanly remembering how bad he had still felt when he climbed on top of Rhaegal.
  
  "Something you ate?" Benjen still frowned looking at his nephew with a worried expression.
  
  "Something like that." Jon relied with unusual sarcasm. "I didn't develop a fever though, just a splitting headache and an upset stomach."
  
  "And you are all right now?" Benjen pressed wondering what Jon was not telling him.
  
  "Getting there. I will be fine, Uncle. Do not worry on my account. We have to focus on Robb now and see that everyone sticks to the plan. I would never forgive myself if Ramsay got to Robb during our rescue attempt."
  
  "Well, you have taken that part of the plan totally upon yourself, Jon. But I have the utmost confidence you three can pull it off. I have heard Robb describe the might of your dragons ad nauseam."
  
  "Do not tell Rhaegal and Viserion that. They are getting cocky enough without extra praise."
  
  "As if I would know how to communicate with them." Benjen offered a weak smile before asking. "How are things on Dragonstone, Jon?"
  
  "Let's talk about that some other time, Uncle. We have almost reached the place where the dragons are resting and I am tired. Besides I want to focus all my energy on Robb first. I promise to tell you everything once we have him back with us in one piece. I will be coming with you to Winterfell for a few days."
  
  "Fair enough. I will wait here with Greywind if you promise me he will behave."
  
  Rhaegal and Viserion were delighted to help Jon rescue his kin from evil men. They took pride in being allowed to use their superior abilities and insight to help their human resolve petty struggles on the ground that would go on for days even sennights if not for their mighty interference.
  
  When Jon returned from his visit with his dragons he was besieged by all sides and needed to tell the story of his life several times over. He noticed uncle Benjen had the same trouble be it a different audience. Whereas he dealt with the younger Lords and less important bannermen, his Uncle entertained Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and Hornwood.
  
  In the middle of answering the umpteenth question about his upbringing, he heard a hearty burst of laughter and saw it was the Tyrell boy that reacted to something Edric had said to him. Earlier, Jon had immediately noticed Edric's awkward demeanour towards him after the first greetings had been dispensed with. He felt guilty for not doing more for his friend for now but couldn't in good faith see another way around that delicate business.
  
  Jon couldn't help but feel a bit jealous when he noticed the easy camaraderie between the Tyrell boy and Edric. If you included Robb, the three of them probably had spent a nice time at Winterfell while he juggled a war with ice creatures and a throne restoration. Looking for some comfort, he petted Greywind who faithfully lay next to him and resumed his lengthy answer to a predominantly benevolent audience.
  
  Eventually they all retired to the large tent for supper. Jon used that occasion to draw Edric away from the young Tyrell and together with Greywind, they walked to an isolated spot where a fallen tree provided a suitable bench.
  
  Edric had not said a single word on the way over and even now waited for Jon to open the conversation. Jon cleared his throat and addressed his friend who was seated a bit further away than he would like with some trepidation. "You got my scroll?"
  
  "I did when it finally arrived. Took me some trouble to decrypt the short message." Edric replied a bit stiffly.
  
  "It was a precaution to prevent Lady Catelyn from getting wind of the content." Jon sighed running his hands through Greywind's pelt to seek some sympathy.
  
  "You get it though? I mean, you understand why I can't just order Lord Stark to give his consent?"
  
  Edric's shoulders drooped in defeat. "I do, well perhaps I do kind of," he amended. "It is difficult to grasp, Jon. I had my hopes up after Robb told me of your conversation about possible betrothals for him. Is there really nothing you can do?"
  
  Jon watched his friend's forlorn expression. "Nothing straightforward," he replied honestly. "I can only try to stall any other betrothal Lord Stark might want to broker for Sansa."
  
  Edric looked up and met Jon's eyes for the first time since Jon's arrival. "That doesn't help me much."
  
  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Gods, I feel guilty talking about this when Robb..."
  
  "I know," Jon sighed. "But the plan to rescue him is ready and we cannot do anything else for him right now than wait for the agreed upon time for the attack. We are not hurting Robb with this conversation. If anything, it is better for him that his friends are not at odds with each other when he sees them again, which will hopefully be before dawn."
  
  "I will pray for that." Edric put his hand on Jon's knee. "We are not at odds, Jon. Not really. I am just disappointed. What you are proposing will not help my case."
  
  Jon lifted one leg and put it on the other side of the tree trunk so he sat astride it now and faced his friend. "It will, Edric. As long as Sansa is not promised to anyone else, I or better we have time to work on Lord Stark and make him change his mind. I am sure, once the political reasons to betroth my cousins become null and void, my uncle will consider Sansa's happiness. The older she gets, the more chance she has to convince him that it is not just a young girl's infatuation. You must admit she is still awfully young and you have known each other for a short while only."
  
  Edric adjusted his position to mirror Jon's, his hands back in his own lap. "You haven't seen her, Jon. You haven't seen us together." Edric argued his case.
  
  "I haven't." Jon admitted readily. "Edric, look at it his way. Lord Stark is in a difficult position right now and is probably counting the days until he can return home. He will do everything he can to speed up the conclusion of years of scheming. Once he is free of this burden, we have a much bigger chance to convince him that his daughter will only be happy as your wife. So stalling a betrothal is the best tactic. In the meantime we will raise you in his esteem."
  
  When he saw Edric's sceptical look and raised eyebrows, Jon slightly altered what he had been meaning to say. "Your biggest trump card is that you care for his daughter and are a kind and honourable man from an esteemed and noble house. The only thing you have going against you is that your house does not have the position of a Lord Paramount."
  
  "I do not see how 'raising me in his esteem' could work since you can't make me a Lord Paramount or a Prince like you intend to make Robb."
  
  "Edric, I am certain deep down Lord Stark does not care for that. It is his wife that has these ambitions. I will find a subtle way to remind him of that. I am sure he is only considering it to speed up things the diplomatic way. Just be patient. All is not lost. And please, do not think for one second that I do not have your back. Only, I can't order my uncle around just because you are my friend. I owe him everything, my very existence. Please consider that. I already explained all that in my message."
  
  Edric looked at his hands and his cheeks had reddened. "You know, Robb told me the same thing a few times. He is a better friend to you than I am. I am sorry to take this so badly, Jon. But I feel so unhappy. It all seems so hopeless.
  
  "It is not, not yet anyway. Your friend Loras might be a helpful ally, actually. We still need to get the Reach on board. If we can convince him that an alliance between Robb and Lady Margaery would make more sense than one between Lord Willas and Sansa, we are halfway there."
  
  Edric's eyes lit up. "Loras would certainly be willing to help. Jon, he is most impressed by all I have been able to reveal to him about you today. Finally, I might add. I had been bursting to tell him for sennights now. He has become a dear friend of mine and I would like to include him in our pact."
  
  "Well that is for the five of us to decide. We all need to get to know him better first. I can't wait for all of us to be together again. I hope I get to see Gendry soon. Has he written to you?"
  
  "Yes, amazing isn't it. If you imagine a few moons ago he couldn't even read properly. But is seems he is well enough and is getting a lot of help from other blacksmiths at Eastwatch."
  
  "Sam is doing more than his share as well." Jon responded. "I sincerely hope that one day he will become my Maester and soon after that Grand Maester. When we have more time, I must tell you all about his genius ideas and the support he has given me so far without a proper training at the Citadel. I have been blessed with the four of you. I have the best of friends."
  
  "Hearing you speak like that, I can't help but think I am the weakest link of our brotherhood." Edric looked at his feet.
  
  "You are not Edric. You just haven't found your vocation yet. Perhaps you are destined to become my most formidable general. You might even turn out to be a very skilled diplomat. One that can bring Dorne into the fold, if not by turning Prince Doran Martell around, then by rallying the majority of the important bannermen of that Kingdom to our cause. It might even be something entirely different. I know you are loyal, intelligent and a very dear friend. We will find something that suits your abilities and we will impress the hells out of Lord Stark."
  
  Edric lifted his head and looked at Jon for a long time, his dark blue eyes taking in every detail of his friend.
  
  "You will be a great King one day, Jon. If I am sure of one thing today, it is that. I feel lighter than I have felt for more than a moon now. I am ashamed of my behaviour earlier."
  
  Jon put his hand on Edric's shoulder, relieved that they were back on better terms. "You are confused and unhappy. I understand, Edric. I hope you will never doubt our friendship, our pact ever again though."
  
  Edric put his hand on top of Jon's that was still resting on his shoulder. "I won't, Jon. However things turn out with Sansa, I know you will be there to help me face it."
  
  "Of course I will be. So will the others. Too bad Sam and Gendry can't be here right now. Sam was frustrated enough that I had to leave him behind. He helped me substantially. Without him I might still be puking my guts out on Dragonstone. I still can't believe Ser Gerold let me leave while I was still feeling a bit unwell."
  
  "You were sick, Jon?" Edric looked his friend over. "At first glance, you look healthy and stronger than ever. But now that you mention it, your face looks pale and drawn and you have dark circles beneath your eyes. Perhaps we should get you something to eat now. And afterwards you can catch half a night's rest before it is time to start our rescue attempt."
  
  "I admit I am rather tired." Jon stood and waited for Edric to do the same. Greywind ran ahead of them, acting as if they needed him to show them the shortest way to the tent.
  
  Jon and Edric walked side by side in silence. Just before they were about to enter the tent, Jon put his hand on Edric's arm. "Let's not talk about all of this to Loras for now. Better wait till Robb is safely back with us."
  
  Edric nodded his assent and both young men stepped into the tent, Greywind firmly glued to Jon's side.
  
  He must have fallen asleep at some point because his uncle's voice woke him when it was still pitch black outside. "Jon, everything has been prepared, everyone is ready. You need to mount Rhaegal and start the attack."
  
  Jon tried to get his bearings. 'Gods, he was tired still.' He was in the small tent he shared with his uncle. He vaguely remembered retiring to it last night shortly after supper when his uncle had saved his head from falling into his plate.
  
  He needed to get up though. They had agreed to attack during the second part of the night and were hoping the Boltons would be less vigilant now. They did not need to adhere to a code of honour and wait for daylight when confronting such cruel, dishonest adversaries. Jon had convinced them it was the best way to avoid casualties amongst their own ranks. Furthermore he had argued that he had flown practically non-stop for almost three day straight and his dragons, as much as himself, needed a bit of rest first.
  
  He accepted the cup of water his uncle handed him and made himself ready for battle. A bit worried about his levels of energy, he prayed that Rhaegal and Viserion would be able to pick up his slack if necessary.
  
  Once he was high up in the air, Jon had trouble discerning the part of the stronghold he needed to find. Domeric Bolton had giving him a precise description of the balcony and the window. It was too damn dark. The cloud cover that helped conceal him until the last moment also blocked the pale moonlight and made it difficult to distinguish the towers properly. Spotting his precise target from this high up wasn't easy. He deliberated his next move. If he flew lower they would be spotted and he couldn't risk the guards getting to Robb before he was able to neutralise them.
  
  "Robb will be alone at that time of night," Lord Domeric had assured them all. "My bastard half-brother will either be boasting of what he will do to your cousin Sansa whilst feasting with his men downstairs, or he will be asleep in his own room hopefully inebriated enough for us to overpower him easily."
  
  Jon who had shivered with repulsion at the image of Sansa being at the mercy of Ramsay Snow, had been able to discern some fear underlying Domeric's words. He had forced himself to focus back on their plan.
  
  "And your father? Where may we expect him to be?"
  
  My father will be in his own bedroom in the west tower. He will not be able to reach Rob Stark in time." He had looked at Jon and had hesitated before offering his opinion.
  
  "I can't help but think father did not agree to this plan. It is possible that Ramsay acted entirely on his own and has somehow convinced my father things have evolved too far by now. Perhaps father believes he cannot turn the situation around without losing face and that might be the only reason he is helping his bastard."
  
  "Let's decide how to deal with Lord Bolton when we can assess the situation for ourselves." Lord Umber had declared with barely concealed anger.
  
  "I will only agree to not killing him on the spot if it doesn't endanger our plan. I will give my men the order to take him prisoner so House Stark can pronounce his sentence but only if they can do so without risking their own lives. And I do want House Bolton to pay." Lord Karstark had been adamant.
  
  Several 'ayes' had clearly shown that most of the men present were in agreement and Domeric Bolton had averted his eyes.
  
  "Lord Domeric, how many guards before we get to Robb?" His uncle had interfered, wanting to stop the debate by reminding the arguing Lords that Domeric Bolton had volunteered his help and his intelligence was a key factor in devising an efficient plan to free Robb Stark.
  
  Domeric Boltons had looked grateful that the topic he had introduced himself had been tabled. He had obliged Benjen Stark and had given an accurate description. "Two perhaps three guards will be stationed on the balcony that leads to the only entry of Robb's prison at the top room of the east tower of the Dreadfort. It cannot be accessed from the inside. The top room apparently was added to the castle by a later generation. A Bolton ancestor, so they told me when I was young, wanted to gaze at the stars at night and in order to do that he built an additional room high up and made sure it contained several tiny windows all around the structure. That way he could look at the sky in all directions and still be sheltered from the wind and snow."
  
  With a long stick Domeric Bolton had drawn a square on the ground to represent the courtyard. "Here is our tent, these are the castle walls. We will enter the yard when we pass a second gate there. The tower will be to our right." He had pointed with his stick to the various locations he had drawn crudely.
  
  "You can only gain access to Robb's makeshift prison by ascending a steep stairway from the inner courtyard and crossing the balcony. That is why it is Ramsay's favourite room. He can isolate and torture prisoners in there without anyone interfering. When Ramsay has a victim up there, his guards are not allowed step inside the room and are to keep watch on the balcony. With Robb being such a prominent hostage he will have men stationed at the feet of the staircase as well."
  
  Jon had listened with growing horror. "The only one Robb gets to see is Ramsay Snow?"
  
  "I am afraid that is be the case. Ramsay's face will probably be the only face Robb Stark has seen these last few days. He will have been the only one to to talk to him, threaten him, feed him, and torture him. I am sorry, my Lord, uh Prince." Domeric Bolton offered his sympathy with Robb's plight.
  
  "It's all right Lord... Domeric." A pale and grave looking Jon had avoided mention of the Bolton name.
  
  The Greatjon had interfered. "So all we need to do is take advantage of the chaos two big dragons flying overhead can create rather easily I imagine?" He had looked to Jon for confirmation, and after getting a serious nod from the young Prince who had still sported a worried expression he had finished his sentence, "while we storm the gates of the Dreadfort."
  
  "We need to prevent the guards from going in and harming or even killing Robb." Benjen Stark had cautioned them.
  
  "I can do that if I know where exactly the balcony is situated. The first burst of fire from my dragon will neutralise these guards. Keeping everyone away from the staircase won't be difficult. I just need to see that the dragons don't burn it so Robb still has a way to get down." Jon had been quick to propose.
  
  "The stairway is made out of stone." Domeric Bolton had remarked. The rampart not so much but we can still get to Robb even if that has been burnt to a crisp. We just have to be more careful not to lose our balance. The floor of the balcony is made of stone as well."
  
  "Then we have a plan. What are we waiting for?" The Greatjon, always a man of action more than strategy had exclaimed.
  
  "Let us wait for the cover of darkness first, if we have the element of surprise, we have more time to take out the guard on the balcony and that gives Robb a better chance to make it out of there alive. We should discuss how best to attack. We have enough men to attack several gates at once." Benjen Stark had reasoned.
  
  "As soon as the guards on the balcony have been taken care of, I only need one dragon to safeguard Robb until he can be rescued. The other one can burn down the gates. That would mean you better keep your distance and wait for the fire to destroy the gates first. I do not want to harm any of you."
  
  It had all looked so simple, a plan that could not go wrong. If only Jon could find that damn balcony and eliminate the three guards. His spyglass was no help at all. He felt his mood affect his dragons and pulled himself together, he couldn't help feeling tired. His dragons were impatient. Rhaegal was adamant. He and his brother would find their target easily once they were below the clouds and could eliminate two or three tiny guards in the blink of an eye. Jon hesitated no longer and trusted his dragons with Robb's life.
  
  It had been the right decision. Greywind was the first one to storm through the gates and attack one of the few Bolton guards who had not been blown of their feet by the gates that had been catapulted inside the courtyard by the force of Rhaegal's fire blast. Viserion had been the one to take out the two guards on the balcony and had stayed there hovering near the tower. He had already neutralised a few archers who had tried to shoot miserable little arrows at him with unsteady hands.
  
  Jon let his dragons do their thing and just watched the fighting going on below him. He did not feel well enough to join the fray and find Ramsay Snow himself. That way he could easily keep his promise to his uncle. The others would also honour Benjen Stark's wish. If Ramsay Snow was to fall in the battle, the deadly blow would be coming from Benjen's sword if at all possible.
  
  The torches in the courtyard combined with the extra fires that now raged courtesy of Rhaegal and Viserion provided enough light to follow the proceedings below. When he noticed Bolton soldiers storming into the courtyard, he persuaded Rhaegal to hold back. The Lords of the North and their soldiers outnumbered the Bolton men five to one. When a few Bolton guards made for the staircase however he let Rhaegal vent his frustration. The men were turned into ashes on the spot. That sight prompted several Bolton guards to lower their weapons and surrender.
  
  Ramsay Snow now came storming out of the main building of the castle shouting furiously. "Fight! Fight you bloody cowards! Nobody gets to Robb Stark. Not before I have skinned every last part of him."
  
  Jon watched from above how his uncle stepped in front of the cruel bastard. "Indeed, nobody gets to Robb Stark for the moment. Most certainly not the likes of you. Fight me, you coward. Did you bring your sword at least?" Benjen Stark taunted him.
  
  "I brought my knife to skin you. Just as I will skin what is left of your dear nephew." Ramsay bluffed. "Just as I will skin your dear niece when I have had my way with her. Father promised her hand to me and will disown his pathetic heir that fled the Dreadfort."
  
  "Shut up and draw your sword." Benjen Stark grumbled.
  
  "Keep your men back and we will settle this the old way." Snow replied and drew his sword.
  
  "It will be my pleasure." Benjen Stark focussed his attention on his opponent and took his stance to engage him.
  
  An arrow came at him from the right side below his outstretched arm and hit him in the abdomen before he could make his first move. Benjen Stark looked at it with uncomprehending eyes, dropped his sword and fell to his knees.
  
  "You Starks, always so honourable. You say stand down and everyone listens. Well I trained my men better. Let me get your sword. I always fancied owning a Valyrian one."
  
  Before Ramsay had the chance to finish his sentence and pick Benjen's sword up from the ground, a large shadow swept over the courtyard. The next thing the men standing close by saw, was Ramsay's head that rolled across the yard, bitten off and spit out by the green dragon. "See to Benjen Stark." Jon called out feeling helpless on Rhaegal's back. "Help him."
  
  With not enough available free space to safely land in the inner courtyard, Jon steered Rhaegal outside the castle walls as soon as he saw the men loyal to House Stark had the situation well under control. After what seemed like ages, they let him enter through the burnt gate, Lady Brienne at his side. He had his sword drawn when he reached Greatjon Umber who stood with a few other Lords of the North trying to decide what to do next.
  
  "Robb?" Jon asked immediately when he was near enough to be heard by them.
  
  "Is safe but too weak to descend the stairs of his own accord. They are helping him make himself presentable first. He will be down soon." The Greatjon informed him.
  
  "Uncle Benjen?"
  
  "The arrow hit him rather lower than I first thought. Those Boltons have no honour whatsoever. Don't worry, he is still breathing fairly normal so the arrow likely missed his vital parts. I am no healer but I guess he will be all right. The Maester of the Dreadfort is taking care of him under the supervision of several armed men. We are not sure that we can trust him yet."
  
  "Let us hope the arrow wasn't poisoned." Jon remarked and looked up at the Greatjon. "What can I do to help?"
  
  Lord Umber did not hesitate with his reply. "Get that wolf to Robb Stark and keep him in check. That beast is terrorising everyone, looking scarier than ever with all that Bolton blood on his mouth and furs. His constant pacing in the courtyard is hindering us."
  
  "What about Lord Bolton, I mean Roose Bolton, of course?" Jon had kept an eye out for him but hadn't recognised anyone answering to the description he had been given.
  
  "We are still looking for him. The servants haven't seen him lately. We fear the bastard might have murdered his own father. We can't ask him though." Lord Umber looked in the direction where Ramsay's headless body lay.
  
  "I am sorry about that." Jon sure now that he would not need his sword sheathed Blackfyre while he listened to Lord Umber's reply.
  
  "Don't be. That will be a tale I can tell my great-grandchildren. If your dragon hadn't interfered we would have done something similar to that cunt. He signed his dead sentence the moment he cheated. Don't worry we will keep looking for Roose Bolton."
  
  "Found my father!" Domeric came storming into the courtyard looking sick. "At least what was left of him. Ramsay fed his dogs pieces of him. He died yesterday." He paused to take a few deep breaths. "His second wife is also in there but is too terrorised to utter a word. She is missing her right hand. Lord Dayne is with her. I had to leave the kennel because... ," Domeric turned his head to the side and vomited on some bushes that grew against the castle wall."
  
  "I'll assist Lord Dayne, my Prince. You best go see to Robb." Lady Brienne gently guided Jon who looked shocked beyond words gently in the direction of the stairway. "Be careful, my Prince. These stairs are steep."
  
  Jon turned in her direction and slowly came back to himself. He released the pommel of his sword he had been clinging to rather tightly and rubbed his face. "Thank you, Lady Brienne. I'll be all right now." Behind Jon's back Lady Brienne signalled Lord Umber to send someone up with Jon. The young Prince looked pale and the stairway was steep.
  
  Jon stopped in his tracks. "Has anyone seen any sign of Theon Greyjoy?" When nobody could give him an affirmative answer he ordered, "Ask the servants whether he is supposed to be at the Dreadfort. If you find him alive, imprison him. I will want to talk to him. He may prove a valuable hostage when I deal with Pyke."
  
  Lord Umber signalled one of his men. Spread the word that we are looking for Theon Greyjoy and want to capture him alive."
  
  Then he turned to Jon. "After you, my Prince." Jon hesitated and looked at Greywind. "Stay." He commanded and looked firmly into the wolf's eyes. Greywind whined but Jon gave him a long stern look and the large wolf lay himself down at the feet of the stairs and would wait for his master to come down as ordered by the leader of the pack.
  
  Robb had been cleaned up and was enveloped in a coat that bore the sigil of House Karstark when Jon entered the room. His cousin sat on a small cot and Jon saw a fleeting look of panic cross his face before Robb recognised him. Robb looked like a broken man. He sported a black eye. The other one looked red from lack of sleep. Jon also noticed a split lip and too many bruises to count. The stubble on his chin completed the haggard look. Under the coat, he caught a glimpse of his cousin's left arm that was heavily bandaged including his left hand.
  
  Jon was at his side in an instant and embraced him carefully trying not to touch any of his injuries. He was glad he had ordered Greywind to stay in the courtyard. Robb wasn't in a fit state to deal with an overzealous pet right now. "It is all right now, Robb. We are here to take you home. Ramsay Snow is dead. Rhaegal saw to that. He cannot hurt you anymore."
  
  "Are you sure? Are you very sure?" Robb slowly turned his head and dull eyes with undisguised fear in them briefly looked at Jon before his cousin dropped his head and stared at his lap.
  
  "He told me how he fed his father to the dogs. Limb by limb he cut off. He boasted that he made the man watch as the hounds fed on his own flesh." Robb voice sounded terrible. He scraped his throat and winced.
  
  "He said I was lucky that his stepmother was so fat. She would last long enough for him to have plenty of time to skin me before it was my turn to become dog food. He is a monster, Jon." Robb's voice sounded hoarse and was scarcely more than a whisper. Jon felt Robb shiver in his arms.
  
  He heard the men who had been helping Robb dress whisper to Lord Umber. Probably more horrific details he didn't need to hear right now. He carefully tightened his arm that lay on Robb's shoulders.
  
  "Was, Robb, he was a monster. He is dead now. We have come to take you home. I'll see you safe to Winterfell if it is the last thing I'll do. My dragons will protect us, Greywind and Ghost as well." He put as much confidence in his tone as he could muster.
  
  "I didn't tell him, Jon." I didn't tell him about you." Robb shook his head frantically. "He wanted to know though. He wanted to know about the dragonrider." Blue Tully eyes looked faithfully into the grey Stark orbs of his cousin.
  
  "You are very brave, Robb. But I knew that already. Let's talk about that later, though. Let's just concentrate on getting you out of here." He startled when Robb moved away from him but relaxed when he realised that is was to accept a cup of water from someone who had newly entered the room. His cousin drank its contents eagerly, looking disappointed when the cup was empty.
  
  "So thirsty, I was so thirsty the entire time." Robb moaned still somewhat out of breath from drinking the content of the cup in one go without pausing to breathe.
  
  "He said if I wanted to drink he would make water in the chamber pot for me. He is mad, Jon. His eyes, his face, he is fucking mad. I almost drank it one day, Jon. Luckily the guards smuggled water in without Ramsay knowing from time to time. I would have drunk it if not for them." Robb lowered his head too ashamed to look anyone in the eye.
  
  "You were brave enough to do whatever was necessary to stay alive, Robb. And you are still alive. Snow is not. He is dead. We'll get you all the water you want. Come on, let us help you downstairs." Jon gently coaxed his cousin.
  
  He was at a loss here. How did you deal with this? Robb seemed to have lost his confidence, his courage. No lesson had ever prepared Jon for such a situation. He didn't want to patronize or diminish his cousin in the eyes of this bannermen but Robb needed help now. Perhaps they even needed to carry him down.
  
  "Lean on me, Robb. You'll feel better once you are away from this cell. Some fresh air and seeing the faces of your loyal bannermen will make it more real. You are free Robb. It is over."
  
  Jon helped Robb stand and let him lean heavily on his shoulder. "Greatjon, will you assist us, please?"
  
  The big man who had been watching the scene closely took two large steps and stood beside them. "So you two really know each other and are friends?"
  
  "Like brothers." Robb looked the Greatjon in the eye. "Like brothers." He repeated and sighed lowering his head again looking exhausted. "Don't hurt him."
  
  "I wouldn't dare. I thought dragons burned people. This green dragon just bit Ramsay Snow's head off and spit it out." The big man told Robb Stark gleefully.
  
  "Well, how else could he have killed the bastard without harming Uncle Benjen or any of you for that matter?" Jon said relieved that Robb had been able to utter a few words to his bannerman in defense of his cousin. It reassured him that Robb was aware of the situation to some degree.
  
  "We couldn't use dragonfire," he completed his explanation.
  
  That silenced Lord Umber for a moment. Jon and Umber worked together to get Robb safely down the narrow staircase. It took some effort but between the two of them they managed it. Lord Umber half-carried Robb part of the way.
  
  "Where have they put Uncle Benjen?" Jon asked the people that gathered around them as soon as Robb was down. "Perhaps we can install Robb in the same room." Greywind followed them without pushing for Robb's attention.
  
  "Follow me," Lord Karstark offered. Robb flanked by his cousin and the Greatjon stumbled in the direction of the main rooms of the Dreadfort.
  
  Jon addressed the Lords that still followed them. "I think it is best to leave here as soon as my uncle and cousin are able to travel. Best check if there are wagons we can confiscate to carry them home. I saw several men of the Stark houseguard amongst the attackers. They can form a proper escort. Lord Edric of House Dayne and Lady Brienne of Tarth can help make the arrangements. Lord Loras of HouseTyrell needs to accompany us back as well. I am sure anyone else that wishes to come along will be welcome at Winterfell."
  
  Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, is anyone of you willing to set matters to rights here? Until Lord Stark decides the fate of the men at the Dreadfort and appoints a new Lord, someone needs to take charge."
  
  "Lord Bolton, I mean Domeric Bolton is here, my Lord uh my Prince?" Lord Umber remarked.
  
  "I'll talk to Benjen Stark but I think as matters stand Domeric Bolton will be a ' guest' at Winterfell until House Stark decides whether he will still be allowed to become the next Lord of the Dreadfort. We will vouch for him though. The information he volunteered helped us come up with a perfect plan."
  
  "Jon, I need to sit down and soon." Robb complained and Jon could feel his cousin lean more heavily on him now.
  
  "We'll discuss this later," Jon quickly told the Greatjon. He felt guilty for not seeing to Robb's comfort first. He focussed all his attention on getting Robb inside where he could rest.
  
  "Almost there, Robb." Jon was out of breath when his cousin fell down in a chair next to the makeshift bed his uncle was lying on. He really needed to gain his strength back and soon. What a time to take that potion. He could add another stupid decision to his growing list of mistakes. The sound of a throat clearing made him aware he was daydreaming.
  
  "Uncle Benjen," Jon was on his knees next to his uncle straightaway. "How are you feeling?"
  
  "As if an arrow pierced my gut?" He joked. "I'll be fine, Jon. The Maester told me my boiled leathers slowed the arrow down and prevented it from going in too deep. Nothing vital has been hurt. It entered sideways and made an ugly large tear that needed to be stitched but didn't damage anything important. Apparently I fell to my knees for a flesh wound and am not really proud of myself. If I refrain from coughing and laughing the next few days, I will be all right. So no lame jokes if you please."
  
  "I brought Robb to see you, Uncle. " Jon retreated a bit and let his uncle and cousin embrace each other clumsily in order not to hurt one another.
  
  "So you are really part of the family? How come we never saw you around?" Greatjon Umber nudged Jon lightly.
  
  "Benjen Stark visited me often enough. Robb was fostered out for a year, remember? And I did visit Winterfell once and the Wall as well when I was barely twelve. And as you know, Robb was present when I defended the Stony Shore." Jon summarized their relationship in a few sentences.
  
  "Fostered at Greywater Watch, yes I remember. Lord Reed uh, the sly bastard." Lord Umber remarked.
  
  "Slyer than you think, but a great foster-father all the same. I also spent several years at the Driftmark and have recently taken possession of Dragonstone." Jon added.
  
  "Uh, and what is your name, Prince of Dragonstone. I believe you were formally introduced as Aegon but if I am not mistaken you answer when your kin calls you Jon?"
  
  "Well they couldn't use my real name for obvious reasons, so I was given the name of Jon Celtigar. The widowed Lady Celtigar who lives at the Driftmark was my foster-grandmother. I've only known since my twelfth nameday that I am Prince Aegon Targaryen, pleased to meet you, Lord Umber." Jon made a formal bow but his eyes twinkled.
  
  "And what are your plans for the North, 'Prince'?" The man ignored the tentative friendship offer of Jon. "Are we to kneel before you and fight your bloody wars so you can sit upon the Iron Throne?"
  
  "I thought we agreed not to talk about politics, Lord Umber." Jon had sobered and looked at his uncle and cousin who were both talking, their faces close together identical expressions of pain but mostly relief on their faces.
  
  "But I'll answer your question. Your liege Lord and Warden of the North has pledged fealty to me. He will stand by my side when I make my claim. You should realise that he has been gathering support for me in secret for more than seventeen years. We are well-prepared. We will try to skip the war and the bloodshed when we make a beeline for the throne soon." Jon didn't blink when he met the stern stare of the Northern Lord.
  
  "Mmmh, you will not ask for our swords?" The Greatjon asked looking skeptical.
  
  Lord Umber was just testing him now, Jon was almost sure of it. He kept his voice blank when he answered. "Lord Stark might, but most likely it will be symbolically only. He will declare that the North stands behind me and you all not contradicting him will hopefully be as much as will be asked of you on that front at least. But please no more talk of politics for now."
  
  "Do not pester my nephew, Greatjon. You will know everything soon enough. Jon, I suggest we do not leave here today. Let us make preparations for a warm wholesome meal tonight with all the men of the North who have gathered here. Now that they have met you and your dragons, they are entitled to know what is to come and what their Liege Lord expects of them."
  
  "I agree, Uncle. I will address them formally. He turned to his cousin who sat stiffly in a chair near the headrest of their uncle's bed. "Robb, you need not attend if you are not up to it. Uncle Benjen can represent your interests."
  
  Robb's eyes were a bit more alert when he replied. "We'll see, Jon. Let me first eat something. It is only morning. If I can rest most of the day I might be well enough. Will you let Greywind come to me now? He has been patient long enough. He must really obey you to keep his distance for this long."
  
  "I try." Jon answered dryly and turned his head to look at Greywind. Human and animal stared at each other for a moment before the direwolf bowed his head to Jon. Everyone in the room looked on with amazement as they witnessed the large direwolf walk over to the heir of Winterfell at a sedate pace, calmly settle down at his feet and put his head in his master's lap in a very gentle and devoted manner. Jon just shrugged his shoulders which made the Greatjon chortle at first only to burst out in deep loud hearty laughter the next moment, his big belly was shaking as he slapped it.
  
  "Ouch!" Benjen Stark exclaimed. "I warned you not to make me laugh." Even Robb looked amused.
  
  Jon allowed a smile to appear on his face as well. Things would be all right.
  
  Interlude 25: The Prince Who Was Promised
  
  "Not again." Thoros of Myr complained out loud seeing the red priestess approach. He had lost count how often she had come to interrogate him. At first he had not cooperated and stayed silent, unwilling to offer any information to the woman who had burned his friend and loyal companion alive. But she had found the argument that made him talk time and again although he had nothing new left to say.
  
  Immediately upon their arrival they had been apprehended. Even before they had uttered their names, guards had seized them and imprisoned him. They had tied his friend to a pole on the cliff. The red priestess, Melisandre had seen their arrival in the flames and had convinced Prince Stannis Baratheon that they were traitors. That very same night, he had heard the screams of his friend while he was burned alive. He had not been able to see it from his prison cell but he knew very well what had happened to his friend.
  
  His fellow prisoners had informed him that it was a recurring event these days at Storm's End. Just before dark, they would light fires on the cliffs and worship the Lord of Light. And when it fancied the red woman, she would pick someone from the prison cells and offer him up to her Lord of Light. She even had the nerve to burn Edric Storm, the royal bastard that had been fostered at Storm's End under the protection of Prince Renly all these years.
  
  When Thoros of Myr had uttered his disbelief, they had convinced him that Prince Stannis himself had given her permission. Apparently she had promised him the Lord of Light would bless Stannis even more when he offered Him royal blood. As it happened, days later, the royal decree had arrived that proclaimed Prince Stannis the official Lord of Storm's End and first in line to inherit the Iron Throne. After that Prince Stannis had been even more inclined to heed the words of the Red Priestess or so his fellow prisoners had told him.
  
  Some still had connections with the servants and got snippets of information and extra food whenever possible. When Thoros had expressed his hopes for more substantial help from them they had disabused him. Nobody dared to help them escape. The servants lived in constant fear of ending up as the evening's sacrifice. One small misstep and the Red Priestess just pointed her finger at them and their fate was sealed. His fellow prisoners had told him they were grateful for what they brought and had learned not to plead for more so as not to scare the few brave ones away and be left totally isolated.
  
  So far, Melisandre had not wanted to burn him. She always asked him what he knew, what R'hllor had revealed to him about the Prince Who Was Promised. He sighed, and steeled himself for the coming interrogation.
  
  "Thoros of Myr, I have come bearing food and drink. Let us talk some more." Melisandre seated herself on the chair in his solitary cell. A servant brought food, drink and a bustle of wood for his cold lonely cell.
  
  He had only spent one night in the common cell. The day after his friend had been offered to R'hllor, he had been moved to a solitary cell so the red priestess could interrogate him in private. She had been pale that day and had asked him about their true purpose in coming to Storm's End. Still in shock after the death of his friend and long time travel companion he had not spoken one word to her that night. She had given up after a while and warned him she would seek council in the flames once more and would be back.
  
  The next night she had introduced a few children to him. Birds sent from the capital to spy on her. Each day he talked to her and cooperated was a day longer these children would get to live. If he refused to talk or was caught in a lie, a child would die. So he had talked.
  
  "Why did you kill my friend?" He had started their first conversation on his terms.
  
  "You came here to spy. He was guilty of that. His death was necessary. The flames burned brighter that night and for the first time in moons the Lord of Light showed me the Prince Who Was Promised again." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Lord Dondarrion knew about the Prince and you do as well. You also believe the Long Night will come in our lifetime and only the Prince Who Was Promised can save us. We must work together." She had tried to stare right through him, willing him with her eyes to cooperate.
  
  "I thought you already found your Prince, my Lady. I know you have Stannis Baratheon convinced that he is the one who was promised."
  
  "I admit I did. Before your friend burned, I was convinced he was the one I saw in the flames. He fitted all my expectations. Prince Stannis believes in the Lord of Light and he heeds my guidance."
  
  "Then why are you here? Why do you need my cooperation so badly?"
  
  "I told you. I saw something in the flames when your friend burned. I sensed the power of the Lord of Light. You resurrected Lord Dondarrion, didn't you? Several times if I am correct."
  
  He tried not to let her unwavering stare affect him. "I did. But he is dead to stay now. You have seen to that." Thoros' voice had betrayed his grief.
  
  "I am sorry. If I had known your quest was the same as mine I would not have burned him. R'hllor showed me that it was wrong to burn him." She had looked at him beseechingly. "Why have you come to Storm's End? What do you know about the true Prince Who Was Promised?" This time she had deepened her voice to try and seduce him into confiding in her.
  
  "I know Stannis Baratheon is a false Prince. I saw the true Prince in the flames in the far north when Stannis was here in the south. We came to warn you that you were wrong but look how that turned out. Why should I still want to help you? You are no true servant of the Lord of Light. You are just a murderess threatening to kill innocent children. I will pray to the Lord of Light that he may strike you down the next time you burn an innocent man, woman or child without just reason."
  
  Melisandre had been taken aback and had left that day only to come back the next, and the next. Thoros had lost count.
  
  And now she was here again. Thoros didn't know if he looked forward to sparring with her because of the fact that his solitary confinement was slowly making him mad or because he relished the fact that she looked more haggard each time he saw her. The confident stately woman that had strode in his prison cell the first night was replaced by a tired woman in dirty clothing.
  
  "Good evening, my Lady. I see you are once more in need of my council." He taunted her. He would never forgive her for the fate of his friend.
  
  "Are you willing to help today then?" She looked him in the eyes. "I am going to build a fire and we are both going to pray to the Lord of Light. Perhaps he can convince you to work with me. We have the same goal, Thoros. If only you would believe that."
  
  "How is Prince Stannis treating you these days, my Lady?" he ignored her statement. "Am I right when I surmise you have fallen out of favour?"
  
  "He has fallen out of mine. He is no longer willing to go north. He is planning..." She stopped.
  
  "Tell me, Melisandre. What is he planning? Will he hurt the Prince Who Was Promised or does he threaten to hurt you?"
  
  Melisandre put a hand on her abdomen in a protective gesture. He will not hurt me. I carry his child. Let us both look in the fire today. I am prepared to release you today if you tell me all you know."
  
  That was a new tactic. He pondered her words. "If I tell you what I see in this fire you are going to make, you will release me?" he reformulated her promise. He finally knew what she wanted from him. The woman was pregnant and probably hoped her child with royal blood could be the Prince Who Was Promised.
  
  "I will." She promised him and bent over to gather the firewood.
  
  "Then I will make the fire myself. Just pass it to me." He picked the dry wood up from the floor and quickly built a fire in the corner near a window.
  
  A while later they were both staring at the fire until their eyes hurt. Nothing happened. "The Lord of Light will not show us a message unless we offer him something." She concluded her voice betraying utter disappointment.
  
  "The Lord of Light does not favour you any longer." Thoros retorted, still not able to feel sympathetic towards her. "I guess that means I am not being released." He looked resigned. "Will you burn me next?"
  
  "That will not be necessary. Goodbye, Thoros." She gathered her robes around her and quickly left the small cell that was now filled with smoke without looking back.
  
  Thoros resigned himself to spending another night in the cold cell and lay down on the ground. He was finally dosing off when two guards noisily entered his cells and emptied a bucket of water over him.
  
  "Make yourself presentable. Prince Stannis wants to see you."
  
  Thoros scrambled to his feet and used the inside of his cloak to wipe the water and dirt off his face and hands. They pushed him in front of them and told him to march to the main building. He was unceremoniously shoved into a room. When he looked around he saw only Stannis standing before a window. The Baratheon Prince turned around when the doors closed with a loud bang.
  
  "Thoros of Myr?" When Thoros nodded silently the Prince looked at him with a stern face. "I received a message from the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark. Apparently the King asks for my return to the capital and to bring a certain Lord Beric of House Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr who are currently my guests with me. Why didn't you tell me you were a royal emissary?"
  
  "We were not given a chance to speak." Thoros spat out. He could not bring himself to use the loathsome man's title to address him.
  
  "I will not apologize for the fate of Lord Dondarrion. He should have spoken up. Be glad you are still alive. I am sending you to the capital today. You can tell my brother that I am not accepting his invitation. I was never one to attend tournaments, the King knows that." Stannis Baratheon turned away, ready to leave the room.
  
  "Will you allow me to take the children with me to King's Landing at least? I mean the ones that you have imprisoned under the pretext that they are spies."
  
  Stannis Baratheon turned back and frowned at the red priest. "Are you claiming that they are not?"
  
  "I do not know either way. But they are just children and even if they came here to spy, then that was only because they were manipulated into it. They are just small children. The red priestess told me they were apprehended before they could learn anything useful."
  
  When he noticed that Stannis was considering his request seriously, he added. "I'll forgive you for Lord Dondarrion's unlawful execution and speak up for you with King Robert."
  
  "I don't care what my brother's thinks. But I will grant you your wish. I want you gone before nightfall." Stannis Baratheon left the room without looking back.
  
  Thoros didn't hesitate. Eager not to run into Melisandre he quickly gathered the children and left Storm's End cursing Prince Stannis and the red woman. The only intelligence he had been able to gather for Lord Reed was that the red priestess and Prince Stannis were both raving mad and unpredictable. He wished he had never undertaken the journey to Storm's End. At least he had been allowed to bring the children with him.
  
  The second day on the road the oldest of the girls came to sit next to him when they stopped to eat a small portion of the provisions a Baratheon guard had handed him just before they departed. The guard had also brought another girl to take along, declaring she had been separated from the rest since it was her turn to be interrogated. It was that girl that now sought his company.
  
  "Are we really going to King's Landing to see the King?" She asked in a timid voice.
  
  He looked at her curiously. Her accent, or rather lack of one, made him aware that she had been brought up amongst nobles. The hood she always wore concealed the better part of her face so he couldn't really see what she looked like.
  
  "Do you have kin in King's Landing?" he asked wondering which household she had grown up in.
  
  She now turned her face to him and dropped the hood. "I am the King's niece." She stated simply. "Mother sent me away before Father could have me burned."
  
  That night Thoros of Myr didn't stay awake to ponder why his friend had died and what the purpose of the Lord of Light had been when he sent them on this quest. He was grateful he had saved several children from a horrible, painful death and one Princess from a mad and cruel parent. He now prayed that her mother would stay safe. Perhaps the fact that she only married royalty would save her since her blood was not strictly King's blood. If Prince Stannis needed royal blood, he'd just have to burn himself. A man could dream, couldn't he? For the first time since arriving at Storm's End, Thoros slept rather well.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter, Jon copes with the Lords of the North and reunites with Arya.
  
  The interlude takes place on the Iron Islands.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The support of the North
  Chapter 26: The support of the North
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon garners the support of the Lords of the North and escorts Robb back to Winterfell.
  
  The interlude features Ironborn mingling with the two members of the Golden Company.
  
  Notes:
  
  Thanks to my beta Ravenousreadr for her unwavering patience and support.
  
  It had taken Jon just less than two days to garner the support of every Lord of the North present at the Dreadfort. And that not only for his cause but also to help the Night's Watch and the Free Folk. Benjen shook his head. His nephew had amazed everyone with his speech tonight. Even Benjen had not known beforehand what Jon had intended. Jon had reassured him afterwards that his Uncle Ned and Davos Seaworth knew of his plans for the North and it was not something he had agreed to on the spur of the moment.
  
  It had been a busy day at the Dreadfort. Everyone who had taken up arms against them had been locked up, all the male servants at the Dreadfort as well for safety purposes. They didn't protest however. Jon gathered that they were treated better now that they were prisoners than when they were forced to serve their cruel Lords. Jon had reassured them personally that the dragons would not harm them and they would be treated decently and be given proper food and sufficient liquids the entire time they were being kept confined. Lord Stark would decide their fate. That statement, more than anything else, had put their minds at ease.
  
  Lady Brienne had come up to Jon and asked him to become his sworn sword once more. Jon had taken her request seriously and responded that he needed more than a sworn sword. He needed a loyal member for his Kingsguard to replace Sandor Clegane and would she be willing to take on that position.
  
  "My Lord, I am not a knight. I am a woman. I only have my sword to offer." She had stammered.
  
  "I have seen you fight when we travelled together in the Riverlands, my Lady. Ser Arthur was very impressed and I was as well. Let me repeat my offer a bit more clearly then. Are you willing to be knighted and become a permanent member of my Kingsguard? I will be making several reforms as soon as I have the authority. One of them will be the appointment of people to certain positions because of their worth and abilities, no longer based upon their gender, the name of their house or their wealth."
  
  He had touched her shoulder. "Now my Lady, what shall it be?" Jon had not been in doubt of her answer. Robb and Edric had written him of her struggles and ambitions.
  
  "I would be honoured, my Prince." She had kneeled before him. "I vow I will be your most loyal subject."
  
  "I have the highest regard for your honour, my Lady and am grateful that you find me and my cause worthy enough to lend it your sword. I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." Jon had looked at her and had noticed that she had been moved beyond words.
  
  "I solemnly promise that knighting you will be one of my first acts when I am instated as the King of the Seven Kingdoms. If that takes longer than expected, I'll ask Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan or Ser Oswell to do the honours. The first one that is available can perform the task."
  
  "Oh no, my Prince, I would be honoured if you were the one to do it. I can wait for the title. The duties on the other hand I will assume as soon as Lord Stark releases me from my duties to his household." She stood back up, her eyes shining with devotion and pride.
  
  "I intend to join you all at Winterfell. We can straighten the matter out then and there. For the time being, can you help us organise things here?"
  
  After having given her a few instructions, Jon had left to find writing equipment and someone to send the ravens to Dragonstone and King's Landing. They would all be anxious to hear that Robb was saved and everyone was all right. He had known the Lords had already dispatched a message to Lady Catelyn by raven and sent a messenger as well to bring her more details.
  
  Jon would be glad to be at Winterfell soon. He would be more at ease there and could write a longer message to Dragonstone then. Now he had just written a few short sentences so he could get on with business. He would be more than happy to leave this dreary castle. If he was Domeric Bolton, he'd tear the whole thing down, build a new stronghold and change the sigil while he was at it.
  
  In the end, everyone had worked together and come evening, the Great Hall had been filled with bannermen of House Stark. Loras Tyrell had escorted a few servants to the village and had come back with a wagonload of food. The female servants had done their best to put a decent meal on the table. Some had cried with relief when they had heard Ramsay Snow was dead.
  
  Nobody who would have entered the Dreadfort that evening for the first time and stepped into the well-lit great hall buzzing with happy excited voices could have guessed the horrors that had taken place here less than a day ago.
  
  Robb sat at the high table, his left arm still heavily bandaged but some colour had already returned to his cheeks. Jon sat to his right and Benjen Stark sat to Jon's right. Despite Jon's protests that they not overextend themselves, both had wanted to be there when Jon confronted the Lords of the North. Benjen Stark knew better than his nephews how stubborn and proud the Lords could be. Several had visited him that afternoon supposedly to wish him well but everyone had wanted to hear about the Prince. Where did the Targaryen come from? Why did he have such a close bond with Robb? Was Lord Stark really on board with all this? Did Benjen Stark really trust him? Where were the dragons hiding out now? Benjen had told them just enough to stall them till tonight.
  
  When most of the food had been consumed, Jon stood up to raise a toast. The scraping of his chair made everyone aware something was up and the room fell silent when they saw the young dragonrider ready to make a toast.
  
  "To House Stark!" He raised his cup. "To House Stark that has reigned the North for thousands of years and will for thousands more."
  
  "To House Stark!" They echoed but it was not wholeheartedly. It was not what they had been waiting to hear from the unexpected saviour of Robb Stark.
  
  "My Lords of the North, loyal bannermen to House Stark and everyone present here tonight who helped free my cousin, Robb Stark, I know you all have questions. I know you only met me today, but I trust you have all witnessed my devotion to House Stark and the love I have for my cousin who is as a brother to me and for whom I have flown almost non-stop across half of Westeros. I am speaking the truth when I tell you that I consider Benjen Stark to be more of a father to me than an uncle."
  
  Both men shared a fond look that went a long way to convince his more reticent listeners.
  
  "Lord Eddard Stark is a dear uncle and a most trusted ally. I consider myself part of House Stark, a part of the North, the blood of the Kings of Winter flows through my veins."
  
  He paused trying to gauge their reaction but couldn't read much off their blank faces.
  
  "Your Liege Lord, Eddard Stark has sheltered me and given me an education fit for a King. Your Warden of the North has been preparing for a Targaryen restoration from the moment I was born."
  
  Murmurs started and a Lord tried to ask him a question. Jon raised his voice to rise above the commotion.
  
  "Please let me speak, my Lords. I will give you a chance to voice your opinion as soon as I have finished."
  
  He needed to wait a few moments more before he judged he had their full attention again.
  
  "Lord Stark and several allies all over the Seven Kingdoms have been working tirelessly for more than seventeen years. We have the Vale on our side, the Riverlands, House Lannister, or whatever remains of it has agreed to do whatever my uncle orders them to. Soon Dorne will be on our side and we have a large part of the Crownlands that supports us."
  
  "Thanks to the North and the Riverlands, we also have a large fleet at our disposal and two fire breathing dragons. It won't be long before I can claim back the throne that was taken away from my family when lies about my father and mother were falsely spread by Petyr Baelish. He was the culprit that prevented Lyanna Stark's letter with the necessary explanations to reach her father and brothers. I will retake the throne for house Targaryen and will do so with minimal bloodshed. I promise you that."
  
  "Please my Lords. I am almost finished." Jon once more needed to raise his voice to be heard over the whispers and exclamations.
  
  "I fully realise I owe most of my assets and my current strength and support to the North, more specifically to Lord Eddard Stark. I will reward him the moment I take the throne."
  
  He paused dramatically, now that he had once more gained their attention.
  
  "Just as the North does, I will 'remember' and I will reward the Warden of the North and the entire North will benefit from this reward."
  
  Another pause. Jon made sure he had everyone's attention. Like an actor knowing his most important lines of the play were at hand he stood a bit straighter and made his voice even more persuasive.
  
  "My first order of business will be to declare that the Northern most Kingdom will become a Principality effective as soon as I am formally instated as King and have the authority to do so. All male members of House Stark will carry the title of Princes of the North. Henceforth, all female members will be addressed as Princesses of the North. But perhaps more important to you all, the North will be exempt from taxes for twenty years, a period that will start on the first day of my reign to recompense the North for financing my cause for these past seventeen years."
  
  "Please hear me out my Lords." Once again Jon needed to raise his voice and appeal to them to let him continue.
  
  "The only taxes the North will be obliged to pay during these years are those due to the Night's Watch. I will grant the North full autonomy on economic matters. The North will stay a part of the Seven Kingdoms. However this alliance will be predominantly military. I will protect the North as the North will stand by the rest of the Kingdoms."
  
  Jon paused and looked around ready to hear their reactions. This time there were none.
  
  "Well my Lord, I have finished, now it is your turn."
  
  "Does my brother know?" Benjen Stark was the first to react, clearly as surprised by Jon's plans as the rest of his audience.
  
  "Lord Eddard Stark knows of my plans and supports me." Jon took a scroll out of his pocket and showed the seal to them. This scroll was written by uncle Eddard's hand. I will read a small part out loud. You don't need to trust my word. You can read your Liege Lord's words yourself. I will pass it to you afterwards.
  
  Honourable Lords of the North and trusted bannermen of House Stark,
  
  If you read this scroll, my nephew, Lyanna's son will be standing before you. I need neither introduce him nor describe his worth. I am convinced that a small time in his presence will convince you all that he is a true son of the North, has a noble heart and has our best interests in mind. I have pledged myself to his cause and will help him reclaim his rightful throne. If he has not already convinced you, I trust my word will be enough for you all to follow my lead.
  
  "I'll let you read the rest yourselves. I can only add that this is a unique opportunity for the North. For the first time in the history of the Seven Kingdoms you can have a ruler with Stark blood on the Iron Throne, raised by House Stark. I have been taught the northern values. I worship the Old Gods. I have my own direwolf, just as the five Stark siblings. I am as much a Stark as I am a Targaryen."
  
  "When do you intend to take the throne? Would you have told us before you did it if your cousin hadn't needed rescuing?" A voice at the lower end of the table shouted.
  
  Jon looked to see who had spoken these words. He only hesitated slightly to recall the name of the House that belonged to the sigil of a brown bullmoose with black antlers on orange.
  
  "Lord Hornwood I presume?"
  
  The man nodded in acknowledgement.
  
  "The exact timing is not yet fixed. It will happen sooner rather than later but we are waiting on news from the Night's Watch. I hope all of you have read the reports from your Liege Lord concerning the situation beyond the Wall. If an enemy attack is imminent, it will take precedence and I will have to delay going South to take back my family's throne."
  
  Jon looked around as if to check who had taken notice of the reports of the Warden of the North. Several Lords avoided eye contact. Jon turned his attention back to Lord Hornwood.
  
  "I will now answer the other part of your question." His voice took on a slightly patronizing tone.
  
  "I would have told every Lord who had come to the Wall to assist us there, who I am. My dragons and I have been helping beyond the Wall for a while now. I have faced the army of the dead and have helped the people who live there. I will face that enemy again if it threatens to attack once more."
  
  He refrained from adding 'will you?' It would not do to alienate them now that they were listening. Besides he didn't know the exact content of Lord Stark's message to his bannermen. Perhaps his words had been too strong already. He had silenced them apparently. Lord Hornwood had taken his seat again and stared at his plate.
  
  "House Umber has sent a healer to Castle Black and a Blacksmith to Eastwatch to assist." The Greatjon defended their House.
  
  "House Karstark was preparing a delegation to negotiate with the Lord Commander. We have sent a message more than a sennight ago but have not heard back." The Lord of Karhold was quick to join in.
  
  A few other similar remarks could be heard. Several Lords began talking amongst themselves once more.
  
  "My Lords," Jon tried but couldn't get them to stop talking amongst themselves. "My Lords," he tried again, this time louder.
  
  He looked at Robb apologetically before turning his eyes to Greywind. The large wolf sprang upon a table amidst the Lords that were creating most of the disturbance and growled showing his big sharp teeth.
  
  "Thank you Greywind," Jon said when everyone had stopped what they were saying and stared in shock at the intimidating stance of the large direwolf. Although they all felt threatened by the large wolf, nobody drew a weapon not daring to harm the animal of Robb Stark.
  
  "My Lords, please hear me out. I am not aware of the exact state of communications between Lord Stark and you all. I can inform you that Lord Commander Mormont has died and has been replace by Cotter Pyke. Perhaps communications have been muddled. For the moment there is no imminent threat. Scouts are monitoring the situation. The enemy has regrouped in the far north for the time being. Just be prepared if a call for help should come. As far as I can tell, at the moment it is not as much fighting men we lack but logistics: wagons, arms, food, warm clothing and perhaps, but I hope it won't come to that, shelter for refugees, mostly women and children."
  
  Greywind had jumped down from the table and trotted back to Robb while the Lords listened to Jon's words.
  
  "Wildlings?!" Lord Karstark voice betrayed he didn't believe his ears.
  
  "Free Folk," Jon corrected gently. "Is a child any less precious because it was born on the other side of the Wall?"
  
  "Lord Stark," Greatjon Umber asked Benjen Stark. "What have you to say about all this?"
  
  "Without my nephew and his dragons I wouldn't be sitting here." Benjen remarked calmly. Everyone kept silent to hear what Benjen Stark had to say. They needed to strain their ears to understand his words, since the injured Lord did not raise his voice.
  
  "I saw with my own eyes how his dragons burned hundreds of wights, I mean walking dead men, the enemy." He clarified.
  
  "I saw with my own two eyes how my nephew killed a White Walker on the ground in single combat and how that act made hundreds of wights drop dead for good. This young man was the first one to kill a White Walker in thousands of years. He has faced the enemy beyond the Wall several times already and is willing to put his life in danger again to help us. If ever he needs my help, hells I'll give it to him before he can even ask. That is what I have to say about this." He turned his head slowly to look all of them in the eyes one by one.
  
  "And if you need to hear my opinion about the Free Folk, I have met them personally. I was their guest at one of their settlements. They are people like you and me. They just do not have the benefit of our culture, our education. However, wildling fathers love their children, wildling husbands love their wives. They defend their weak just as we do. I fought beside them when we faced an enemy too numerous to defeat on our own. They were fierce and courageous in the sight of certain death before my nephew and his dragons swooped in to change our odds."
  
  "The fact is, we need to band together to survive. If we do not, and the Free Folk on their own can't stop the dead from breaking through the Wall, this dangerous mystical enemy is coming for us all, more numerous than ever since it will have added a hundred thousand of these so-called Wildlings to its ranks."
  
  "My father pledged fealty to him and I as well." Everybody shifted their attention to see Robb Stark try to stand up with some difficulty.
  
  Edric Dayne immediately made a move to support him. Loras Tyrell stood at the ready at his other side should he need extra support.
  
  "My cousin may count only seventeen namedays, my Lords but he has done more for the North than most anyone present here. He has saved the people at the Stony Shore from the largest Ironborn attack ever to come to our Shores. Euron Greyjoy wanted to cement his new reign over Pyke with a large raid and came to our shores with twenty seven ships armed to the teeth. " Robb cleared his throat a few times.
  
  "My cousin and his two dragons send them back with less than half their men and ships. Not a single northerner was injured. He saved my uncle's life beyond the Wall facing a dangerous enemy that outnumbered him and had him cornered." Now it was Robb that used a dramatic pause to let the Lords ponder his words.
  
  "He is instrumental in making the Free Folk and the Night Watch work together for the first time in..." He looked sheepishly at Jon, "well I can't even recall in how long but that should say enough. He provided logistic support to the Free Folk. But more importantly, the moment he found out that the enemy had a weakness and could be killed by obsidian, volcanic glass, he made it his mission to find more of this material and has brought it north for us."
  
  Robb's voice had gotten hoarser and Edric handed him a cup of water. Robb took it with a grateful nod and took a few sips before putting it back on the table. The proud Lords made not a single remark. They all waited for the heir to Winterfell to finish what he had to say. Robb resumed his appeal.
  
  "He saved me today even though he was sick and very far away when the call for help arrived. He is willing to delay his own cause to fight for the North, to fight the enemy beyond the Wall. And after he saves are sorry arses what does he promise us? He promises us a King of the Seven Kingdoms that has the best interest of the North in mind. He is a wolf of the North even if he is a dragon as well. He will give the North more autonomy, exempt it from taxes and only asks for a military alliance."
  
  Robb's voice had once more cracked and he reached for his cup to take a few more sips.
  
  "Here is our chance to support a King who was raised with northern values and worships the Old Gods. My honourable father vouches for him and has pledged himself to him. My Lords, what more do you want?" Robb looked around seeing several Lords nod. He raised his cup slowly, careful not to lose his balance.
  
  "He may carry the name of House Targaryen, but he looks and acts like a Stark. I say, let's toast to the Dragonwolf. Long may he reign!"
  
  Robb sat down glad he had been able to finish what he had to say. Jon's eyes were moist when he raised his cup toward Robb his entire demeanour conveying a silent but heart-felt thanks. Benjen touched Robb's right arm to signal his appreciation.
  
  At the same time the Lords of the North responded to Robb's toast. The assembled men in the tent erupted in cheers. "To the Dragonwolf! Long may he reign!" One by one the Northern Lords came up to Jon to thank him and pledge him their support.
  
  Later that evening after Jon had retired, Benjen overheard several men talking about his nephew. The words that had pleased him most were, 'clearly Lyanna's son', 'courage', 'dragonwolf', but he had chuckled when they called him an alpha, leader of wolves and talked about how he controlled dragons and wolves as if it were small pets. When they asked Benjen about it he delighted in describing Ghost to them. Everybody wanted to see the young Prince and his 'white wolf'.
  
  Jon sat on the bed of the room he had been assigned. He was exhausted. He would spend one night in this dreary castle for Benjen and Robb's sake but intended to depart for Winterfell immediately after breaking their fast. Lord Karstark had promised to let his eldest son stay behind with a few men and manage affairs at the Dreadfort. Lord Umber would coordinate the support between the Northern Lords and the Lord Commander at the Wall. Jon had advised him to ask for Sandor Clegane who could help him coordinate with the Free Folk as well.
  
  He had hardly pulled off one boot when Edric and Loras came into the room. "Come on, Jon. We are all headed for Robb's room. Let's enjoy the fact that we are all together again."
  
  Jon relented knowing that when Edric had something in mind, he would not give up until he got his way. "All right, all right, but only for a short while. I am tired you know."
  
  All in all, the time in Robb's room had relaxed him and had lifted Robb's spirit visibly. Jon chastised himself for not realising Robb would have trouble sleeping here. The three boys did not leave the room before Robb was sound asleep. They left it to Greywind to keep watch over his human.
  
  Ghost was the one to wake Jon. The guards at the gate had heard all about the exotic looking white direwolf with red eyes and let the enormous beast enter the moment they saw him. Ghost had needed no directions and had stormed to Jon's room, wasting no time in jumping on Jon's bed.
  
  It had been almost a moon since they had last been together. Jon awoke because his face was being besieged by Ghost's tongue. He didn't push the wolf away but hugged him tightly. He would savour the days they could be together in the North. Who knows when he needed to fly back south?
  
  His grumbling stomach made him jump into action. He pushed Ghost of him, hurried through his morning ablutions and went in search for some food. The sooner he ate, the sooner they could leave. When he entered the hall with Ghost by his side, he found Uncle Benjen sitting at the main table talking to a few Stark guards standing close to him. Seeing only a few men about, it became clear to him that Ghost had woken him up rather early.
  
  "Good morning Uncle. I trust you slept well?" Jon nodded a silent greeting at the guards who took up their duty near the table again.
  
  "Not as well as I liked. I woke up each time I moved. The Maester pulled the bandage rather tight around my waist. I am not looking forward to being hustled about on a wagon for days." Benjen petted Ghost who had come over to say hello.
  
  "I'm not leaving you behind, Uncle. We'll try to make you as comfortable as possible. Besides you will have Robb to keep you company."
  
  "Perhaps you can help me keep my mind distracted with more pleasant thoughts. We did not have time to talk yesterday. Tell me, how is it living on Dragonstone with your beautiful Targaryen Princess?" His uncle motioned him to take a seat next to him.
  
  Jon cursed the colour that rose in his cheeks. He had been trying so hard to stave off any thoughts of Dany and focus on the task at hand. He quickly took the offered seat and tried to keep his face even when he replied. "She is happy to be home and has settled in nicely. She is even attending our meetings and helping Sam with the messages and such."
  
  "And such, mmmh. Have you made up your mind yet?" The edges of his uncle's mouth curved slightly upwards.
  
  "Stop teasing, Uncle."
  
  "What? I can read the signs as well as the rest of your advisers, my boy. Did you know I forbade them from starting a betting pool?" Benjen Stark no longer tried to suppress his smile.
  
  "Betting on me and Dany? Ser Gerold? Davos?" Jon's eyes were big as saucers.
  
  "I always said you were a bright boy. Yes on all counts. Dany uh? Tell me, would I have won? Are you betrothed yet?" His uncle's eyes twinkled with mischief.
  
  "I am not betrothed to anyone yet, Uncle. Perhaps we could talk about this some other time? I mean when we can talk more privately?" Jon pleaded not ready to discuss this now.
  
  Realising at once by Jon's dejected demeanour that the subject was more delicate than he had originally surmised, Benjen asked. "Have you written to Dragonstone yet?"
  
  "I have and to Uncle Ned through Varys in King's Landing as well. Just short messages mind you. I intend to dispatch longer letters to everyone when I am at Winterfell."
  
  "Maester Luwin will be glad to see you. You have given him a lot of work over these last few years."
  
  "I was rather looking forward to see Arya, Rickon and uh Sansa again." Jon looked a bit self-conscious.
  
  Benjen looked at his nephew curiously, noticing the hesitation on Sansa's name but decided to let Jon tell him at his own pace. He would keep his eyes open though.
  
  "This trip was a resounding success, Jon. Not only do we have Robb back, you also have garnered the support of the Lords of the North. They are even willing to assist at the Wall. Did you see me getting interrogated by some of the Lords yesterday?"
  
  "I noticed Uncle. You had the tougher audience." Jon was relieved at the change in subject.
  
  "Well, perhaps you didn't notice I had some assistance. The Greatjon most valiantly came to your support. He did warn me that he would ask for an explanation from my brother though. He now sees the events of their trip south after the Rebellion in a new light and wants to hear a first-hand account of what exactly happened over there."
  
  Jon could well understand Lord Umber. He had heard the tale from uncle Ned, more specifically how Lord Stark and Howland Reed had stolen away as thieves in the night only to return the next morning to lead their party to a small house near the Tower of Joy where local farmers loyal to House Dayne had prepared Lyanna Stark's body for travel. He forced those morbid thoughts of his mother from his mind and remembered what he had wanted to ask his uncle before entering the room.
  
  "Have you sent word to the other bannermen that their assistance is no longer needed, Uncle? I saw the Cerwyn sigil in the courtyard. I reckon that party has just arrived?"
  
  "They arrived last night after you retired, Jon. Be prepared for an audience later. After reading my brother's letter and hearing about the lifting of the taxes, I reckon it will go rather well though. Robb and I will of course be there to support you. To answer your first question, I did send ravens out to the other houses yesterday, but everyone who heeded our call and has not reached us yet will be somewhere on the road. That can't be helped, Jon."
  
  They were distracted by Ghost running to the door to greet Greywind. Edric entered the room with Robb by his side, Loras close behind.
  
  "You look a lot better, Robb. How are you doing?" His uncle was the first to greet Robb.
  
  Robb took the empty seat at the other side of his uncle. "Much better, Uncle Benjen. I slept well which is somewhat of a miracle between these walls."
  
  He stopped speaking when he felt Greywind settle his head in his lap after the wolf had wormed his big body under the table. Ghost somehow had been able to find enough room to do the same and the white head nestled itself on Robb's other thigh. He welcomed both direwolves by petting their heads, his eyes turning moist when he saw the unconditional love and readiness to protect him in two pairs of loyal eyes. He swallowed, lifted his head and greeted Jon with a nod and a watery smile.
  
  Turning his attention back to his uncle, he asked, "How soon can we leave, Uncle? I long for Winterfell."
  
  "As soon as everyone has broken their fast. Everything is organised and ready. The wagons are loaded. I hope you do not mind sharing a wagon with me?"
  
  "I can't wait to leave this place and I am not able to travel on horseback yet so I take it gladly." He sighed while he looked at his plate filled with food. "I never thought a person could weaken so fast by withholding liquids and food. I thought people died from hunger but I am sure I would have died from thirst first."
  
  "Liquids are vital to one's survival, Robb. The reason you do not hear about people dying of thirst is because liquids are usually available for free and food needs to be bought. Here in the North you just need to melt some snow and you can drink all you want." His uncle explained seriously.
  
  "Except when you are being contained and tortured." Robb retorted bitterly.
  
  Uncle Benjen put his hand over Robb's. "I am sorry, Robb. I should have sent someone with you. I should never have trusted Greyjoy."
  
  "You are not to blame, Uncle. I left without telling anyone where I went and with whom. I only have myself to blame. Everyone warned me about Theon. I should have known better. Well, I will never ever forget it. I will carry the reminders on my arm for the rest of my life." Robb winced when he tried to lift his bandaged arm.
  
  "What exactly did he do to your arm, Robb." Jon asked taking his eye off both wolves were lying under the table between him and his cousin.
  
  "He peeled the skin off, what else?" Robb shrugged his shoulders slightly annoyed with the question. "One piece every time he came in. He said I would look like a monster when he was done and that he looked forward to the moment that I would be begging him to kill me."
  
  "Women love scars, Robb. You have been through hell and survived. Wear those scars as badges of honour. You will look all the stronger for them." His uncle tried to comfort him.
  
  "That is easy to say Uncle, but so much harder to do." Robb objected.
  
  "Let's talk about it again when your wounds are not hurting as much and we can speak in private."
  
  Uncle Benjen looked over to see Edric and Loras with their heads close together, apparently deep in conversation. He turned back to Robb and encouraged him to eat.
  
  Lady Brienne entered the room and made a beeline for Jon. "My Prince, we found Theon Greyjoy!"
  
  "You did? Is he alive?" Jon jumped from his chair.
  
  "Well the Maester is tending to him." She motioned Jon to join her in a corner of the room so they could speak in private.
  
  "I don't want to alarm Robb Stark." She whispered. "One of the female servants came forward and showed us a dungeon were we found Greyjoy tied to... well you know their sigil. Only fortunately for him, he was not tied to it upside down. He is missing several fingers and also his uh, his member, uh." Lady Brienne's cheeks were flushed when she stammered her last words.
  
  "I get your meaning, Lady Brienne. Has he been skinned as well? Is he lucid?" Jon ignored her embarrassment.
  
  "His left arm has hardly any skin left, my Prince. He is conscious but not sane. He keeps repeating 'Reek is sorry, Reek is sorry', over and over again." The Maester has given him milk of the poppy. We did not imprison him but I have asked the Maester not to let him leave the room and posted a guard at the door."
  
  "You handled that well, Lady Brienne. If he is fit to be transported, we will take him with us to Winterfell. We will need a second wagon though. I do not want him anywhere near Robb."
  
  "We were intending to take two wagons anyway. Theon Greyjoy can be put on the wagon carrying most of the food supplies and materials we need to take along."
  
  "Excellent. Keep both vehicles as far apart as you can. I want to spare Robb from meeting Theon for a few days or at least until he wants to of course." He looked over and saw Robb playing listlessly with his food. He looked back at Brienne who now also studied Robb. The concern was evident on her face.
  
  "Lady Brienne, can you summon Lord Domeric? He will miss breakfast if he doesn't show himself soon." Jon avoided to mention the name Bolton now. He wondered if Domeric felt ashamed to carry that name and whether he was as reluctant to hear it being used to address him as Jon was to speak it out loud.
  
  "I will, my Prince." Brienne bowed and left the room.
  
  Jon went back to the table, only now he took a seat across from Robb. Seeing his cousin's sour mood he tried another approach. "Hey Robb, how do you reckon they succeeded in keeping Arya at home this time?"
  
  The caravan left the Dreadfort a bit later than planned but still long before the sun reached its highest point. The parley with Lord Cerwyn had caused an extra delay. After hearing them out, the Lord had asked for some time to make his decision. He had decided to travel with them to Winterfell so he could take Jon's measure before committing himself. He had also asked to see the dragons with his own eyes. Jon had obliged him and had connected with Rhaegal and Viserion immediately.
  
  The four of them had moved outside to the courtyard where the caravan stood ready to depart. Soon enough screeches were heard and the dragons flew in. They were only too eager to show off a bit and had performed a real dance of dragons above the courtyard, staying high enough in the air not to frighten the tiny humans too much. Cheering and even applause had marked the end of the show and the caravan had started to move, leaving the Dreadfort behind.
  
  It would take four days to travel to Winterfell. Ghost and Greywind led the way often straying from the path to reappear once more. They clearly were enjoying each other's company. A few Lords of the North had decided to accompany the heir back to Winterfell. Lord Umber rode up front with his men, followed by the wagon carrying the wounded Robb and Benjen Stark. Jon, Loras, Edric and Lady Brienne kept an eye on the wagon and its passengers. The houseguards of House Stark, Domeric Bolton and more bannermen made up the rear and saw to it that the wagon carrying the provisions and the Greyjoy prisoner did not lag behind. Even though nobody was on foot they still progressed rather slowly.
  
  Jon had had ample time to think about what was next. He wondered what he should write to Yara Greyjoy. Best wait to see if a message from her had arrived at Winterfell. He had asked Sam to warn all their allies that they could contact their Prince at Winterfell. Perhaps Dany had written some of the messages in her fine hand.
  
  Now that the Lords of the North were on board, he itched to deal with Pyke before he returned to Dragonstone. He would have to decide what to do about Theon Greyjoy first. He needed to speak to Robb and Uncle Benjen about that. They were allowed a say in the matter. For some reason he felt sorry for the Kraken. Whatever he might have done, no man deserved to be tortured like that. Ramsay Snow really knew how to break a man. He tortured his victims physically as well as mentally.
  
  Theon Greyjoy either didn't remember his own name or was too afraid to speak it out loud. He made himself as small as he could the moment he perceived movement and feared that someone might approach him. He ate his food without using his hands and drank like a dog, lapping the liquid up out of a bowl using only his tongue. Jon would not have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. Thinking about Greyjoy made him uneasy so he pushed these thoughts away. Perhaps thinking of Pyke was too premature also. He could well be flying to Eastwatch any day now.
  
  Reminding himself of his promise to travel alongside Robb, he manoeuvred his horse closer to the wagon and started a conversation with his cousin about his siblings. He tried to listen patiently to Robb's description of life at Winterfell and hid his impatience at the slow pace of their journey. Traveling by conventional means really got old soon if you were used to the vast distances you could cover in no time on the back of a dragon.
  
  Lady Brienne pulled her horse up next to Jon's. "Riders approaching, my Prince." Jon straightened himself revived by the thought that Winterfell was less than half a day's ride away.
  
  "I bet it is a welcoming party and Arya will be amongst them." Jon replied with a smile.
  
  "Warn Robb and Uncle Benjen and ask Robb if he wants to be on horseback when they approach."
  
  Jon looked towards the wagon were his uncle and cousin were trying to play a game of cards.
  
  Robb was gaining strength quickly now that he had access to proper food and drink. Besides not being able to use his left arm that was covered in thick bandages and had been tied against his body to keep it immobilised during the journey, his remaining ailments were more mental than physical. The second day on the road he had even switched places with Jon when the latter, still recovering from his on bout of sickness, welcomed a few hours of rest and had asked Robb whether he felt well enough and fancied to ride a few miles. They had been trading placing keeping their Uncle Benjen occupied.
  
  He watched Brienne lead a spare horse toward the wagon. She stopped to inform Loras and Edric who were riding side by side. Prince Doran and Lady Olenna could learn something from these two. The Dornish Lord and the younger son of the Lord Paramount of the Reach had been keeping each other company for the better part of the four days they had been travelling.
  
  "Let us all stop here for a moment." Jon called out. "I need to heed the call of nature." It was not the absolute truth, his more important motivation being that that way Robb could mount the horse at his leisure. It was not easy to do with his arm incapacitated. Also after the excesses of last night, several men in his party would welcome the unscheduled moment of respite.
  
  "Had too much ale yesterday evening, my Lord?" The jape came from Lord Umber who rode next to him. It was accompanied by a slap of his large hand on Jon's his shoulders.
  
  Jon had asked the men to address him as 'Lord' instead of 'Prince' for the time being. It would make things easier for everyone for now and would give him a chance to inform the necessary parties at Winterfell gradually on his own terms and at a time of his own choosing. The Lords feeling all the more important that they were in on the secret when others weren't yet had all promised him they would adhere to his wishes.
  
  His dragons stayed hidden during the day and after dark flew the short distance the humans had covered that day easily enough. Jon had been able to visit them in the woods every night but knew that would probably become more difficult when they reached their destination. They would have to stay hidden at first.
  
  He didn't react to the forceful thump Lord Umber had just given him. He had only himself to blame if they treated him in this familiar fashion. He had encouraged it last night when they all sat around the campfire and he had volunteered to tell them a story. He had told the story of Uncle Benjen's rescue beyond the Wall in the way he had learned to do it amongst the Free Folk to capture the imagination of his audience, with slightly exaggerated wording and broad gestures.
  
  Uncle Benjen had chimed in several times what had only increased the overall hilarity. Add to that the fact that everyone had enjoyed his share of the barrel of ale they had bought at the inn they passed earlier that day and it hadn't taken long for Jon to be treated as one of them, all titles and formalities forgotten in the cordial, cheerful atmosphere around the campfire. Only Uncle Benjen had complained afterwards that Jon had been cruel to make him laugh so much.
  
  Jon liked most of the Northern Lords that had lived close enough to answer the call of House Stark for assistance. Lord Karstark perhaps was the more difficult one to please but he had made the effort to enquire after the Lord's offspring and their marriage prospects which had gone a long way to easing the man's reluctance and skepticism.
  
  "I didn't drink even half as much as you." Jon replied to Lord Umber's question. "I bet you the largest pint you can find that Arya Stark is a part of that dust cloud racing toward us." Jon's eyes were trained on the party that was fast approaching.
  
  "No northern man present will take you up on that bet. We all know the wild wolf girl and are proud of her. Lady Catelyn hasn't been able to make a southern Lady of her as she has of her eldest daughter." Umber looked back and manoeuvred his horse to the left to make place for Robb Stark.
  
  "You make a fine figure on horseback again, my boy. How much are you willing to bet against my statement that Arya is riding toward us to greet you?" Umber immediately addressed the heir of Winterfell.
  
  "Perhaps I should take that bet, Lord Umber. But I will amend it slightly. How much are you willing to bet that her first greeting will be for my cousin, her best friend that she knows as Lord Celtigar?" A significant look was directed at the Greatjon when he stressed Jon's alias, "And not to her dearest brother who has narrowly escaped untold dangers?"
  
  "Glad to see you can make fun of it, my Lord." Lord Umber replied, though he was more careful when he touched the young Lord's shoulder then had been with the Targaryen Prince. "I'll bet you the largest pint of ale you can find." He said this to Robb but winked at Jon when he repeated the Prince's words.
  
  "Deal," Robb accepted the bet, straightened himself in the saddle. "We will know soon enough. I am impatient to reach Winterfell though. We will not stop long."
  
  Jon nodded and noticed Ghost drawing closer. "Go on boy, go find Nymeria. Tell her hello from me." The direwolf was off in a flash. Greywind looked first at Jon then at Robb and ran after his sibling.
  
  Robb won his bet easily. Although Lord Umber later protested that Robb had still gotten the first hug. Arya had indeed been very vocal when she saw Jon ride up front of the caravan that was bringing her brother home. Now the three cousins were riding side by side, Arya in the middle proud to be flanked by her brother and adopted brother.
  
  A lot of people had come out to the courtyard to greet the heir and current master now that his father was absent although it was not a formal greeting line. Lady Catelyn was in tears and hugged her son carefully as soon as he had managed to dismount assisted by Jon. Sansa and Rickon followed her example but had to be reminded not to touch Robb's left arm in their initial enthusiasm.
  
  Then Lady Catelyn bowed before Jon in her formal manner. She sounded sincere though when she expressed her thanks.
  
  "You are most welcome at Winterfell, my Lord Celtigar. I cannot begin to express my thanks for coming all this way to rescue my eldest son. You have saved a mother's heart unimaginable grief."
  
  "Well met once more, my Lady. But please, do not attribute all the credit to me. It was a joint effort. All your bannermen that lived close enough heeded the call of House Stark. We all played our part. House Stark is lucky to count on the support of so many loyal men." Jon kept his tone formal as well not really sure how to act around his uncle's lady wife.
  
  Lady Catelyn acknowledged his words with a small smile and a nod of her head and turned away to greet the rest of the party. Rickon used this opportunity to come up to Jon and asked him if he had brought more presents. Jon ruffled the locks of his youngest cousin affectionately and told him he had not, at least not at this very moment but his friend, the very best blacksmith in Westeros would make something for him as soon as he had mastered the basic moves of swordplay.
  
  "Perhaps Lady Brienne and I will see you tomorrow morning at the training yard?" He addressed Rickon as well as Arya who had not left his side the moment he had stepped of his horse.
  
  Both Arya and Rickon nodded fervently but kept their reactions in check so as not to alert their mother. They had both learned well enough that what their mother didn't know, she could not forbid.
  
  A shriek from their lady mother however diverted their attention. It was a sight to be seen. Five direwolves were greeting one another with little regard to their environment. Jon could not fault them though. Ghost had neither seen Lady nor Shaggydog again since they had been found in the woods near the Wall. It was only unfortunate that they had bumped into Lady Catelyn who was staring daggers at them.
  
  "Someone take these beast to the kennels," she commanded clearly dismayed.
  
  "My Lady, please allow me." Jon was immediately by her side and took her arm so she would not lose her balance.
  
  "Ghost is not to be confined at any time." He warned her, his voice leaving no doubt there would be repercussions if disobeyed. His message delivered he softened his tone. "My Lady, please let me handle this. They will not bother anyone again. Just remember how glad you were to see Robb after less than two sennights. These direwolves are siblings. They have not seen each other for more than five years. That should excuse their behaviour somewhat."
  
  He touched Ghost and looked into his eyes. The wolf whined but turned toward his siblings. After a few barks in response to Ghost's calm gesturing, the five wolves left sedately in the direction of the Godswood.
  
  Lady Catelyn still looking somewhat disgruntled once more took a formal posture. "Follow me, my Lord." She said stiffly. She made him release her arm and led the way to the Great Hall.
  
  Still smiling from ear to ear at the prospect of sparring with Jon the next morning, the two youngest Stark siblings took Jon by the hand and led him to where everyone was gathering to partake of some refreshments.
  
  A bit later, Jon, Robb, and Edric were talking quietly together when Sansa approached hesitantly."Will you be staying long, my Lord?" She addressed Jon and avoided looking at Edric.
  
  Jon figured the two of them had not yet found a way to deal with their current predicament. He once more made the mental note to address this with Uncle Ned at the first opportunity.
  
  "I hope to spend a sennight here, my Lady. But I must warn you that there is a chance an urgent message may call me away earlier."
  
  "Then I hope for my siblings' sake that no message containing such summons will arrive. Please, my Lord, call me Sansa. You call all my siblings by name."
  
  "I'll be glad to do that, Sansa, but only if you address me as Jon." Jon smiled at her wondering why they had never reached that stage in the past. But before he could find something else to say, Sansa spoke again.
  
  "If you will excuse me, Jon?" Sansa made a slight bow and went over to her mother to help host the newly arrived party and to check that the servants had plenty of food and drinks for everyone. Edric looked after her a forlorn expression on his face.
  
  Robb looked at Jon a question in his eyes. Jon shrugged his shoulders and proposed they all take a seat to discuss how to fill their next few days.
  
  Benjen looked at the three young men and felt torn. He was Robb's uncle as well as Jon's and loved both boys dearly. But he couldn't help feeling closer to Jon. Perhaps it was because the boy was fatherless and Robb still had both his parents. He couldn't deny that from the first moments he had laid eyes on baby Aegon, that the boy had become the son he had never had. He always felt like missing a limb when events separated them.
  
  He would be devastated not to witness the first days of Jon's reign, perhaps even the coronation ceremony if they held one. But he had a duty to Robb as well. His brother should have made better arrangements before he left. Robb was still too young to manage the entire North. Managing Winterfell would have been challenging enough but to become temporary Warden of the North at such a tender age without a proper support system was shear madness.
  
  Benjen would talk to Maester Luwin to find the most suitable candidates to put together some form of small council for Robb. It would also be a convenient way of curbing Lady Catelyn's influence on the boy. Benjen had never been a great fan of his good sister. Her southern ambitions popped up when you least expected it and her strict adherence to the Seven Pointed Star did not endear her to him either.
  
  Well at least Rodrik Cassel had stayed behind and only his son Jory had accompanied Ned. That man was an excellent candidate. If Lord Manderly could spare a son who was well versed in trade matters then this Lord could help with the problems Cassel was less familiar with. The Manderlys were close to the Starks so it would not be strange to have them visit Winterfell for an extended period of time, even though Manderly's sons were all at least ten years older than Robb.
  
  He looked back at the table to see Arya and Rickon had joined the three men while Sansa stayed close to her mother. His eldest niece had not been herself lately. Perhaps a talk with Sansa was in order as well. Then he could write to his brother about her predicament. He'd better make good use of his time at Winterfell. The better he managed things here, the sooner he could leave.
  
  Loras and Lady Brienne were helping the stable boys with the horses when Willas approached Loras. The brothers greeted each other with a warm embrace. 'I am glad you are back safe and sound so I am not obliged to inform mother of your latest folly." Willas was the first one to speak.
  
  "I am sure Robb is happy to be safely home. He would have done the same for me." Loras retorted not liking the reference to his rescue mission as a folly.
  
  "However did you manage it though? Lady Catelyn lamented that a siege to the Dreadfort could last moons and Robb would surely have no skin left by the time you were able to save him. Imagine my surprise that a raven arrived heralding your success. You must have rescued him two or three days after your arrival?"
  
  "Two days to be exactly. I am sorry, brother. I cannot tell you the details until you agree to swear your vow, remember? Perhaps you should rethink your decision. Mother would be pleased with such a powerful ally that can conquer a mighty stronghold in one day." Loras winked at Brienne who tried to keep her face blank.
  
  "For the love of the Seven Gods!" Willas exclaimed. "What is it with you and secret alliances in the North. It is high time we returned to Highgarden. I am all set to leave as soon as you are packed and have said your goodbyes. Let's say the day after next? That should give you ample time."
  
  "I am afraid it is you then that I will be saying my goodbyes to. I am staying, Willas. I am going to be the one who can take all the credit when our house is still deemed worthy to join the right side." Loras for once was dead serious and didn't waver under his brother's scrutiny.
  
  Willas was the one to look startled at his brother. He had never expected such an outright refusal. There was no room to negotiate by the looks of his brother's determined face and convincing words. For the first time since arriving at Winterfell, Willas' conviction started waver. Perhaps he was wrong about refusing to consider his brother's words. It would be the first time though that Loras' impetuous decisions yielded a better result than all his older brother's careful deliberations.
  
  "Whatever will you do here in the North? You will outstay your welcome." Willas made a feeble attempt to convince his brother to reconsider.
  
  "I am not planning to stay at Winterfell. I am considering swearing my sword to Lord Celtigar. Lady Brienne has already entered his services."
  
  "Was that the Lord that Lady Catelyn thanked first and foremost? He seemed awfully young. I wager he is of an age with Robb. Why swear his sword to him? Celtigar? I am sure I have heard his name mentioned somewhere."
  
  "His name isn't important." Lady Brienne bristled. "It is who he is and what he stands for."
  
  "I gather he is the one that saved Robb then?" Willas was trying to make sense of it all. He had just recalled where he had heard the name Celtigar before. Arya Stark had once named him as the friend that had gifted her that beautiful sword and Rickon's book. He was almost sure it was the name of a small house in the Crownlands or the Riverlands. He would have to look it up again. Perhaps it was a rich house then?
  
  "He played his part, as did the others. If you were present in the courtyard, you must have heard him proclaim it was a joint effort. Willas, do me a favour and be nice to him. He is a good friend to have and that is all I am going to say on the subject. I can only tell you more if you are prepared to swear an unconditional vow to keep all you hear and see a secret until further notice."
  
  Willas' lips had formed a thin line during his brother's last attempt to persuade him. Realising his brother would not give in, he sighed.
  
  "Let me sleep on it, Loras. Just know, whether you are coming are not, I am leaving. I am out of excuses. Grandmother needs me in Highgarden now that Father is back in the capital."
  
  Willas bowed to Lady Brienne who had been a silent witness to their conversation and went back inside. Perhaps a visit to the library was in order. He needed to learn more about House Celtigar and find out if they shared blood with House Stark. That young lord had the Stark look, perhaps even more so than the Stark heir.
  
  Interlude26: Preparations
  
  "Why did we have to draw the short straw?" Lorimas Mudd muttered for the umpteenth time.
  
  "It is not such a bad job." Rolly Duckfield answered his Serjeant. "We will face no grave danger. We have plenty of food and have camped in worse environments than these.
  
  "But not amongst godsforsaken Ironborn." His superior answered. "I hate fucking Ironborn. And if there is one thing that I hate even more than that, these two are oathbreakers. I know we are sellswords but we have our own code of honour. When we take a contract we honour it."
  
  "And are prepared to face certain death if that is what it takes." The young apprentice chimed in. "You are repeating yourself."
  
  "It is the most important lesson you need to learn. No, need to live or you will never rise in our ranks, Duckfield. I hope those two do not hurry back."
  
  They were seated around a campfire and were keeping watch. After a sennight on this small island observing the clumsy preparations of the Ironborn, he had volunteered for watch duty out of sheer boredom. Little did he know when he signed up that he would be partnered with two Krakens. Yara Greyjoy apparently didn't trust her new allies. He once more cursed the fact that he had drawn the short straw.
  
  When Strickland, the current captain-general of the Golden Company had explained their new assignment and had asked for volunteers, nobody except a few younger men had signed up but not a single Serjeant had been amongst them. Strickland had called ten Serjeants and had let fate decide. And fate had had it in for him. Strickland had told him it would be a short assignment. The battle would only last half a day at the most and they would not need to engage themselves, just be present and visible. Their task was to make sure everyone knew the victory was due to the Golden Company and its dragons.
  
  At first everyone had thought it had been a joke but Strickland had explained that he was dead serious. He had forged an alliance with the dragonrider. It was due to this alliance that he had been able to raise their earnings. He had used the argument that he had heard nobody complain when they all had benefited when he had been able to raise their share substantially a few moons ago. This assignment was to lend credit to the rumours that they indeed had a dragon amongst their ranks.
  
  So that is how he and ten other recruits had been shipped off to this tiny island Blacktyde. They had brought several sails, banners and armour with them. They would join the attack and the kraken ships on the front lines would carry the banners of the Golden Company along with some strategically placed Ironborn soldiers that would wear their golden coloured armour for all to see.
  
  When Lorimas Mudd had asked why Strickland didn't send a real delegation, his capitain-general had told him bluntly that they were not getting paid for this job. It was actually the dragonrider that was doing them a favour by allowing them to set the stage so the Golden Company could take credit for a battle the dragonrider and allied Ironborn rebels would wage. He would not send a full delegation for an undefined amount of time without getting a decent fee. Lorimas had cursed his bad luck grasping that it would be a job without extra bonuses or other advantages. And on top of that he would have to mingle with Ironborn for an unknown number of days.
  
  "Why did they break their oaths to their King, Euron Greyjoy, Serjeant Mudd?" His apprentice asked.
  
  "I haven't taken the trouble to ask." Mudd replied gruffly. "Damn, I think they are coming back."
  
  Now Rolly also discerned rustling in the bushes and soon enough he could hear one of the Ironborn talk to the other.
  
  "Found several tasty rabbits. We can roast them and you can join in". The elder of the two Ironborn announced when they came into view
  
  "Thanks," Rolly answered with a smile.
  
  "We're good. Thanks anyway." His superior overruled him.
  
  The elder Kraken just shrugged his shoulders and both men joined them at the fire and started stripping the rabbits.
  
  "Have you been stationed long on this Island." Rolly asked the older man. He hesitated to address the younger one since he hadn't heard him speak once, not even when they had been introduced. The man had only offered a nod and a toothless smile.
  
  "Less than a moon, ever since we joined ranks with Yara Greyjoy." The man replied.
  
  "Why did you join her ranks? Weren't you sworn to her uncle, Euron Greyjoy?" Rolly wanted to know.
  
  The older man looked uneasy. "More like we were forced to follow him when he murdered Balon Greyjoy. That was Yara Greyjoy's father." His face had darkened.
  
  "Not willing to fight for a girl. I can understand that." Mudd joined the conversation. "What I can't understand is switching allegiances once more." He looked pertinently at the younger of the two Krakens.
  
  Both Ironborn exchanged glances. "Have you ever spoken up against your commanding officer?" Once more it was the elder of the two who led the conversation.
  
  "We are trained to obey commands." Rolly offered as reply.
  
  "I do not mean question a command. I meant offer advice, or make a remark about the weather, the state of the crew, signal a problem with the equipment."
  
  "Of course, we have. What kind of question is that?" Mudd was losing his patience.
  
  "Well it is an important lesson for anyone who wants to enter Euron Greyjoy's services but we had no forewarning. See Harren here," he pointed at the younger man who gave them a close mouthed smile.
  
  "He had his tongue removed when he reported two men had fallen ill below deck and could not perform their duties. And because Euron Greyjoy was in a particularly bad mood that day, he not only cut out his tongue, he had Harren's teeth pulled out one by one."
  
  Rolly watched with big eyes as Harren opened his mouth only to close it moments later.
  
  "Euron Greyjoy's lead ship has a crew entirely composed of mutes. Can you imagine eating without a tongue? You can't taste anything nor prevent the food from falling into your stomach when you still want to chew it some more. Harren here, he can't even chew."
  
  "I'm sorry." Rolly offered his sincere apologies. "We didn't know. Yara Greyjoy is different I hope?"
  
  "She is. She is one lady with balls, if you will take my word for it. Besides, why would I not want to side with her when she has befriended the dragonrider. I was on one of those ships that his dragons set on fire at the Stony Shore. The only reason I survived was because he had the decency to leave some of our ships intact to allow me and some other lucky comrades to be picked up by one of the remaining vessels. I still wonder why he showed mercy. He could have sunk each and every last ship in a matter of moments."
  
  "Perhaps he wanted word to get out so he would be feared throughout Westeros." Mudd offered.
  
  "No, here you are wrong. The first thing Yara Greyjoy ordered all of the men that had witnessed the attack and joined her ranks to do, is keep silent and not tell stories of the dragonrider. Only if we can't deny it and need to tell something, we are ordered to tone it down and attribute the attack to one single small dragon and a rider that belongs to the Golden Company. We must emphasise that the dragonrider fights predominantly in Essos. They do not want the capital to know about the dragonrider being a Westerosi."
  
  "How curious. Why do you think that is?" Mudd was getting fascinated and forgot his reluctance to bond with the two men.
  
  "The only reason I see is that he wants to take Westeros by surprise. I am glad we are on his side though. Pyke will surrender before you can count to one hundred and Yara Greyjoy will rule the Iron Island and has promised us a better life than under her father or her uncle. So call me," he looked at Harren, "call us oathbreakers. We do not care. We are survivors. We are the smart ones." His defiant look was not needed however.
  
  Mudd nodded his head and readjusted some of his prejudices. "Any idea when the dragonrider will deign to show himself?"
  
  "Yara Greyjoy has summoned a meeting for later this morning. We can join it as soon as our watch is over. The entire encampment is excited. It won't be long now. She is sure to set the date for the attack."
  
  The rest of their watch was spent in an almost congenial atmosphere. Mudd had even let Rolly taste some of the rabbit.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon enjoys the rest of his time at Winterfell and then flies to Eastwatch where Gendry is working non-stop. The interlude takes us to Dorne.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  All in the family
  Chapter 27: All in the family
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon talks with Benjen and reveals his identity to Arya. All the while Robb struggles with his situation.
  
  In the interlude Prince Quentyn finally arrives home.
  
  Notes:
  
  I can't post a chapter in good faith without thanking my beta Ravenousreadr for her ever present dedication to this story. Thanks my dear friend!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Benjen was one of the first to retire that night. Maester Luwin had seen to his wound and said the cut was healing nicely, no more sign of infection.
  
  "Another few days of watching your movements and the skin will be sealed tight enough for normal activities, as long as these do not entail fighting or training, my Lord." The Maester had warned him. "Leave that to the young men for now."
  
  "How is Robb's arm, Maester? Will he be able to resume his sword trainings soon?"
  
  "I redressed the bandages on his arm and I needed to re-break and set both joints of the index finger on his left hand. It will be several sennights before he will be allowed to move that finger." The Maester had sighed.
  
  "The poor lad will carry the scars for the rest of his life. He was lucky though. He told me the Maester at the Dreadfort had been allowed to care for his wounds. I have seen victims of the vile Bolton's before. Their wounds had been allowed to fester and they lost either one or more limbs or their lives." Maester Luwin had fallen silent and had seemed lost in contemplation of past terrors he had witnessed.
  
  "Fighting though Maester," Benjen had reminded the man, "will his movement stay impaired or will his arm heal properly?"
  
  "I am sorry." Maester Luwin had snapped out of his musings. "Our young Lord will regain full function of his left arm. He fights right handed in any case. The missing part of his little finger will not hinder him much, neither with fighting nor while conducting other activities. He has been lucky indeed. I will just need to refresh his bandages and urge him to accept some milk of the poppy to rest better at night. Lord Robb looked worn out."
  
  "Perhaps it is not the pain in his arm that causes him to lie awake, Maester. It is possible he might need help to come to terms with his anxiety and terrors that plague him mostly at night." Benjen hadn't mentioned how little noises or unexpected movements had scared Robb on the road. "Did you learn something about this that could be useful during your time at the Citadel?"
  
  "We studied up on theories and methods to help relax one's mind and body. I'll look into it and see what I can do to help the young Lord." The Maester had prepared to leave the room but Benjen had still wanted to put other things in motion.
  
  "Thank you Maester. I have been thinking he might benefit from having a few helping hands now that he recovers. Perhaps Rodrik Cassel could attend when both of you deal with the incoming scrolls and demands of the Lords of the North for now? We might also ask Lord Manderley's second son to come for a visit. He could lend a hand if issues pop up that he is familiar with. I heard he is good with number and trade negotiations."
  
  "But my Lord, he has you and me to help him? Surely that will do?" The Maester had never heard of the Lord of Winterfell asking outside council. Eddard Stark always took a strong stance and mostly ignored other opinions being very sure of his own ability to govern the North.
  
  "Might I remind you that you had been ill for several sennights just before I arrived, Maester? And I can't promise to be here all the time. I have other duties to attend to as well. We must help our young Lord, even more so now that he is recovering. The North is the largest Kingdom of Westeros and has the harshest conditions. He carries a lot of responsibilities and is not well." Benjen had used his most persuasive voice.
  
  "Of course, my Lord. I will write to Lord Manderly straightaway." Maester Luwin had bowed and left the room. For the time being Benjen Stark was his superior after all.
  
  Benjen had next checked in on Robb and had been glad to find him fast asleep an empty cup next to his bed. Robb had heeded the Maester's words and had drunk his milk of the poppy. His left arm was lying above the covers and Benjen saw the bandages on his left hand had two pieces of wood sticking out of them. Benjen had closed the door softly and had decided to retire himself.
  
  Sitting on his own bed now he wondered what Jon's next move was going to be. It had been hard to speak in private these last few days on the road. Perhaps tomorrow they might find a moment to discuss things without being disturbed. A soft knock on his door made him look up.
  
  "Come in." He called out, no clue as to who would still disturb him in his own quarters.
  
  "Uncle?" It was Jon's hesitant voice and his dark curly hair that peeked through the small opening that made Benjen smile.
  
  "Jon, come in. I think you are the only one I would still allow to enter my room in this state of undress."
  
  Jon walked inside and looked his uncle over. He was wearing a rather long nightshirt that covered him up entirely. "You are decent enough, Uncle. I've seen men with much less... ," he stopped. "Never mind. Do not worry on my account is all I am trying to say. Just get into bed and cover yourself if you are not warm enough. I only came to see if you might be inclined to talk to me for a bit?"
  
  "I'll always make time for you if you need me, Jon. Did you receive any messages that trouble you?"
  
  Maester Luwin had indeed informed Jon that several messages marked for his eyes only had arrived and he had brought them to his room as soon as the young Prince had left the Great Hall.
  
  "Nothing we cannot discuss tomorrow. Perhaps you are willing to go over them with me tomorrow afternoon? I could use your council."
  
  "My, my, I am in high demand these days." He stopped teasing when he noticed Jon stayed serious. "Of course I will make time for my favourite nephew tomorrow."
  
  "And tonight." He added seeing Jon's slightly disappointed look.
  
  "Do you mind if I pull this chair closer to your bed? That way you can make yourself comfortable on your bed and we can still talk." Jon looked eager now.
  
  Benjen didn't answer but carefully manoeuvred himself on the big bed until he was seated comfortably with his back against the headboard and the furs pulled up over his legs until they reached his waist.
  
  "Now what is on your mind that you couldn't tell me on the way home?" He asked wondering why Jon stayed silent after displaying his obvious need to talk mere moments ago.
  
  "I wanted to talk to you about the Princess." Jon revealed a bit hesitant.
  
  "Finally ready to admit that you like her?" Uncle Benjen teased.
  
  "Uncle, please. No teasing. Not from you, please."
  
  "All right, no teasing. But seriously, you do like her don't you?" His uncle was glad this was the topic for tonight and nothing more complicated.
  
  "I do. That is the problem, Uncle. I want to marry her?" It felt good to say it out loud.
  
  Benjen saw his nephew looking at him with apprehension. For once, Jon acted closer to his age instead of incorporating this leader amongst adults much older than him most of the time. "Is that a question?"
  
  At Jon's exasperated look he quickly added.
  
  "I am sorry. I didn't mean to tease. I just meant that you know very well whether you want to marry her or not. You shouldn't phrase it as a question. I do not see the problem. I recall you telling me that the letters you exchanged were very cordial. I couldn't help but get the impression that she liked you back. Ser Gerold also might have given me a hint in his last message."
  
  "She loves me, Uncle." Jon pulled his chair closer to the bed. "And I love her." He whispered.
  
  "And? Does that mean that you are now willing to do what your great-great-uncle asked of you?" Benjen remembered how fervently a twelve namedays old boy had protested when his Targaryen uncle had brought up the subject not once but several times and again days before his death.
  
  "I want to, very much. I'm afraid that I cannot think clearly and am acting selfish. I wonder if I am making a terrible mistake." Jon confessed.
  
  Benjen grabbed his hand, pulled it a bit closer and squeezed it gently.
  
  "Jon, you still have to make your first terrible mistake. You are doing great. You know when to decide things for yourself and you are not afraid to take a step back and to ask for advice. That is a thing you should teach Robb if you find the right opportunity by the way. Witnessing the way his father ruled Winterfell and the North these last few years has made him think it is a sign of weakness to ask for advice. Sorry, I needed to get that of my chest. Back to you though, walk me through your dilemma and I'll try to help."
  
  He kept his nephew's hand in his for support and felt Jon give him a light answering squeeze in acknowledgment.
  
  "I am glad I can talk to you about this now, Uncle. I have missed our talks." Jon adjusted his chair the last few inches he could still move closer to the bed.
  
  "Has Davos not been able to... "
  
  Jon shook his head.
  
  "That's right, he has not arrived at Dragonstone yet. He also hasn't met the Princess yet. What is she like, Jon? Describe her to me." Benjen urged his nephew to give him more details.
  
  "She is the very definition of a Targaryen. In looks." Jon added hastily. "She has silverwhite hair just like her father and the renowned purple eyes. She is small in stature and very slender although her figure is very feminine." He blushed and looked at his uncle sheepishly.
  
  "Go on." Benjen encouraged him.
  
  "She is nice, smart, funny but also headstrong and ambitious. She is not afraid to say what is on her mind."
  
  "Oh my, that tone you just used. Don't tell me you butted heads already?" Benjen was watching Jon's tiniest reactions looking for clues.
  
  "We did, but we made up right after." Jon's face was scarlet now. "She came right out and asked me why I did not consider marrying her."
  
  "Now that is a lady I would like to meet." Benjen Stark remarked amused to see his nephew's troubles were just struggles of a young man in love for the first time.
  
  "I recall you not having any problems to fend of Nymeria Sand at the Wall. Perhaps the problem is you do not want to fend this one off eh?"
  
  Jon released his hand and put it back in his own lap. "Uncle, please no teasing, this is serious. I told you, the fact that we both love each other makes it difficult for me to be sure that I am making the right decisions. I have already done some risky things. I need your unbiased opinion on this matter."
  
  "All right." Benjen, who had been slowly sagging down the length of the bed, squirmed a bit until he sat up straight again. Sitting more comfortably once more, he studied Jon closely.
  
  "Tell me all the reason why you think marrying her is a mistake. Hold nothing back. I promise I will listen and give my uncensored opinion."
  
  "I have three." Jon looked at his hands that were fiddling nervously and stilled them.
  
  "Three." His uncle repeated encouragingly. When Jon didn't continue, he added. "Let's hear them."
  
  "I can't marry for selfish reasons. What if I need to make a political marriage and refusing to do that will lead a Kingdom to declare war on me, us? I cannot be happy if I am the reason a rebellion starts."
  
  "You are not your parents, Jon. I have noticed more than once that you burden yourself with the unfortunate unforeseen consequences of their choices. You are not responsible for their actions. Besides, there are Seven Kingdoms and you can only marry one person."
  
  "But what if Robb or Sansa are made to marry someone to advance my cause and I am not willing to do the same?"
  
  "So far nobody has been forced to do anything against their will yet. Your campaign is coming along nicely without betrothals. Loras came to me and asked me a lot of questions. I am sure he will swear his sword to you in the near future. That is another reason for Lady Olenna to consider declaring for our side. I do not think the Stormlands will be swayed even if you married the Princess Shireen. King Robert and Prince Stannis are the ones that will oppose your claim the strongest. The Stormlands and part of the Crownlands might rebel no matter whom you decide to marry, Jon." Benjen reasoned.
  
  Jon didn't reply immediately. He avoided his uncle's gaze by studying the calluses on his hands.
  
  "Jon, look at me. Tell me truthfully. Do you really expect that you will take the throne with no opposition whatsoever? No matter the yearlong preparations and the number of allies, there will always be people who will oppose your claim. Even if you marry a Lord Paramount's daughter, not all bannermen might agree."
  
  Jon's eyes briefly met his uncle's.
  
  "Jon, if you want to become King of all of Westeros, you must be prepared to enforce your claim with violence. I know you dream of a better world for everyone, but often the people have a mind of their own. Not all of them will like you, Jon. Not everybody will think that you and you dragons are the Gods gift to the realm."
  
  Jon frowned and lifted his head again. Benjen seeing he had his full attention knew it was time to give him some hard truths.
  
  "Jon, I saw how you struggled with Jeor Mormont's dislike of you. You will need to come to terms with the fact that even when all goes according to plan, best case scenario: sixty per cent of the people will love you, perhaps twenty will not give a damn or fear you without acting on it and the rest, the rest will hate your guts and might rebel against you. You have lived mainly amongst Targaryen loyalists. They are prejudiced in your favour and not a good standard to gauge the reactions of the rest of the realm by. You won't win everyone over with a smile, a motivational speech, or even a daring rescue mission."
  
  Jon swallowed. "I know that, Uncle. Rationally I know all that. I struggle with it though. But that doesn't negate the fact that marrying someone else might gain me extra support and less people will need to die."
  
  "Jon, nobody knows the future. Just suppose I am the Lord of the Stormlands and I declare war on you. You would need to take to the field with only a small part of your allies. Your two dragons would only have to give a small demonstration of their firepower. And I would waver and ask to negotiate. Think Jon. You are Aegon the Conqueror the second edition. I would bend the knee to spare my people."
  
  Jon frowned. "Perhaps."
  
  "This political betrothal issue might resolve itself. You will have to make your move soon now that almost the entire North knows your identity. No matter how many times you ask for discretion, people talk amongst themselves and others overhear. Lord Varys is not a miracle worker. You might find yourself running for the throne before you have a chance to seal a betrothal. Nothing can prevent you then from asking your Princess to marry you. If she loves you back, just ask her to wait a few moons."
  
  Jon nodded slowly, deep in thought. Uncle Benjen waited a few moments but then cleared his throat to get his nephew's attention once more. He had been slipping down again but instead of righting himself back into a sitting position, he slowly turned to his side until he lay on the bed facing Jon.
  
  "Now let us move on to the other two reasons. I will want to go to sleep at some point tonight. I think there is one reason that I can guess, your kinship with the Princess."
  
  "You wouldn't mind me marrying my Aunt?" Jon asked amazed at the matter of fact tone with which his uncle had voiced this important concern.
  
  "It is not as if she is your sister, or Gods forbid your twin sister. Aunt, uncle, nephew, niece, or cousins marrying happens in every House, Jon. I could cite you at least two examples of members of House Stark having done such a thing."
  
  "You do not think that it is a serious issue, Uncle? More so for my house? Considering the history of House Targaryen, I could have children who inherit the madness. Do not forget the dragons. In the wrong hands, they could destroy the realm." Jon's expression betrayed how much the issue weighed on him.
  
  "Who is to say your offspring by a non-Valyrian woman will be able to handle the dragons with their diluted dragonblood? And even if they can, there is no guarantee that they will use the dragons with as much restraint as you do. Their hands could be 'wrong hands' as well." Benjen replied in a soothing voice.
  
  "Perhaps unconsciously you are still not willing to give into the demands of your uncle Aemon. You are talking of wanting to marry to further your cause, for the good of the realm. If Maester Aemon was right, marrying her might be for the good of the realm. You still cling stubbornly to ideas and decisions you formed as a young child and that somehow got stuck in your mind. Or perhaps you just do not want anyone to think you are marrying her because you were ordered to do so by your great-great-uncle. Ever think you protest this too much?"
  
  "You are not helping me at all here, Uncle. Now I don't even know what drives me anymore. I thought I was being noble and selfless, and now you question that as well." Jon shook his head. His uncle saw the confusion in his eyes when Jon lifted his head once more.
  
  "I wished I could see the future. I even tried but I," Jon stopped and bowed his head in defeat.
  
  "I am sorry, Uncle. I can't tell you more."
  
  "Let me guess, one of your Uncle Aemon's precious Targaryen secrets. Think carefully, Jon. I know you are smart. Is there not something you can tell about what you just hinted at without betraying your house's secrets?" Benjen silently cursed the fact that Jon was not allowed to confide everything in him.
  
  Jon peeked through his eyelashes, giving Benjen hope that the youth was considering his words.
  
  "If you promise not to ask for details I cannot reveal, I will try Uncle." Jon now looked at him having come to some decision.
  
  "You know you can trust me, Jon. What more can I say to put your mind at ease?" Benjen further encouraged Jon to confide in him with an earnest look.
  
  "It would help me so much if I could talk to you about this, Uncle." Jon's eyes glistened suspiciously and he put his right hand tentatively on the bed.
  
  Benjen didn't hesitate to take it in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
  
  "Then talk to me. I vow I will not press you for information that you are not allowed or unwilling to give." He watched patiently while Jon mulled his words over in his mind and was hopeful when his nephew started to speak.
  
  "I did something stupid the other day right before I left Dragonstone." Jon admitted eventually. "I put my life in danger because I wanted to see the future, because I wanted to know the future of my house. More specifically I wanted assurances that my offspring would be able to control the dragons and if so, who I needed to marry to sire those children with." Jon's voice was barely more than a whisper.
  
  He bowed his head in shame. "I was sick when your cry for help arrived, Uncle. I had to delay my journey for more than half a day. That was all on me. I put my love for Dany before the well-being of everyone else. I know I must stay alive to help the realm, to fulfil the prophecy. I bear so much responsibility. I cannot make that mistake again."
  
  Two tears escaped and ran over his cheeks but Jon ignored them. "I feel so guilty, Uncle." He paused and took a deep breath to calm down a bit. "And it was all for nothing. All the effort I had to make, and the risk I needed to take and I am no further than I was before."
  
  "It didn't work then whatever you uh, did?" Benjen was doing his utmost to stay patient. Jon was not giving him much to go on, not enough to figure out what he wanted to know.
  
  "It did work. Only not the way I thought it would. It gave me some ideas on how to save my house and the realm. I know more about the enemy to the north. The visions showed me what is important and apparently to the Gods or whatever magic that granted them to me, it is not whom I marry. But that is important to me, Uncle. Although,"
  
  He sat up straighter and his voice became more resolute when he declared. "I know I have a duty and I must not be selfish. I will not do as my parents did. I will fulfil my purpose first."
  
  "Jon, listen to me. Jon," he repeated.
  
  Jon looked up reluctantly revealing he was still close to tears.
  
  "It is not selfish to want happiness. It is human. Must I repeat myself? You are not your parents. You are not to blame for everything that happened seventeen years ago." He squeezed Jon's hand once more.
  
  "Jon, think about it again. As far as I can see, nothing you told me forbids you to marry your Princess. Although I must admit that it might be prudent to wait until you ascend your throne and assess the political landscape first, before going through with it." He stroked his nephew's hand to comfort him.
  
  "You might be overthinking this, Jon. Do not forget that you have our noble, strong Stark blood. I trust the Gods to know what they are doing. You are healthy and Maester Aemon told me that your Stark blood allowed only the best abilities of your Targaryen blood to manifest themselves. He went even as far as to claim that our excellent Stark blood enhanced the abilities and you are a more powerful than any Targaryen ancestor ever was. Why could you not pass along that gift to your children?"
  
  "But Daenerys' father and her brother even," Jon hesitated to finish his sentence and put his fears into words.
  
  "I think her brother would not have succumbed to his illness had the circumstances been better. The Mad King well, you have me there. But you are good and honourable, Jon. Trust in yourself, in your blood, your strength. If you have children, no matter whom you marry, raise them well and teach them justice, kindness, honour. Teach them by example. Let the Gods worry about the rest. I can truthfully say that I am convinced that you have as much chance to have a healthy offspring with her as with anyone else."
  
  "You really think that?" Jon's wet, grey Stark eyes met his uncle's dark blue ones, hope shining through them.
  
  "I do. Every man takes a risk when he sires a child, Jon. Every parent worries about his child's health and happiness. It is one of the facts of life. I understand the Gods didn't bother to show you what you wanted. No marriage comes with a guarantee of a healthy offspring. It is too small a concern for the Gods."
  
  He revised his earlier assessment of an easy conversation about a young man's first love. At least his nephew had calmed down some. He tried to keep his tone light when he spoke next.
  
  "Your reactions have almost made me too scared to ask what possible third dilemma you have come up with."
  
  Jon shook his head and a small self-deprecating smile ghosted over his face. "Now that I think about it, it is not really a big issue. It is merely another reason to delay our betrothal. I am convinced that I need all my energy and focus on the tasks at hand and can't let myself be distracted by my feelings for her. By postponing a final decision till after the fight with the dead and when I have claimed the throne, this reason is no longer a concern." He waited for his uncle to react.
  
  "Stalling might get you in trouble with Lady Olenna though. If she tries to bully you into marrying a Tyrell, you should claim that you are betrothed to Princess Daenerys and keep all your options open. A fake betrothal can easily be broken." When Jon shook his head his uncle stammered. "Unless, Jon, you didn't, you haven't."
  
  Jon shook his head resolutely. "No Uncle. I haven't done anything that would lessen Dany's chances of finding a suitable husband. Not in that way. I have given her hope though. I have promised her to try and stay single until matters are resolved. But I can't use her like that, involve her in such deceit." Jon's face however had lost that forlorn look to his uncle's relief.
  
  "You can if you have her consent."
  
  Jon nodded now and seemed deep in thought. This gave Benjen the opportunity to mull over what Jon hadn't told him. What exactly had the visions revealed to him about the enemy to the North? The boy seemed convinced more than ever that it was his destiny to defeat the dead. Whatever had the Gods shown him? Moreover, what the hells had he done to himself to get visions. As far as he knew, Lord Reed didn't need to risk his health to receive visions. This last thought made him speak up again
  
  "I reckon you haven't asked Lord Reed for help yet?"
  
  Jon startled out of his own musings. "I haven't. I wanted to ask something else of him though. He told me once the magic in the blood of the Kings of Winter not only gave our ancestors the ability to warg but every now and then a greenseer was born into the Stark family. He suspects Bran to have inherited that ability to a certain degree. But somehow I think, I wonder if I might have inherited a bit of it as well. Maester Aemon hinted at it telling me my Targaryen blood instead of diluting the Stark magic seemed to enhance it when I told him about my connection to my dragons."
  
  "What are you saying, Jon? Did you experience some sort of greendreams?" Benjen was intrigued.
  
  "I might have? I am not sure. I had some dreams that felt like vision before I tried, uh, well you know, that thing that I can't tell you about. But I can't help but wonder that with some tutelage of Lord Reed, just like he taught me those warging exercises, perhaps I could, uh, you know?"
  
  It was not like Jon to be so unsure, not to finish his sentences. Benjen squeezed his hand once more trying to get Jon to settle his nerves.
  
  "I understand, Jon. You can write to him. Perhaps there will come a time that you can visit with him in person. But for now, you might consider writing to him. It is possible that a few hints can help you along."
  
  "You do not consider me selfish?" Jon asked yearning for some reassurance.
  
  "Everyone is selfish to a certain degree, Jon. Hells, you should be a bit more selfish sometimes. It is not healthy to always sacrifice yourself for others. The best way to help others is when you are strong, healthy and sound of mind yourself. So indulging yourself once in a while to make you feel better, benefits the ones that need your help as well. You should look after yourself if you claim you have such a big destiny to fulfil."
  
  Jon's eyes were moist when he gave his uncle a long devoted look. He swallowed.
  
  "Perhaps you should take a piece of your own advice, Uncle. Why haven't you taken a wife yet? You would make the best father ever."
  
  "I already feel like a father, Jon." He blinked a few times to keep his own eyes from filling with tears.
  
  "But to answer your question, if ever I happen to fall in love, I will marry the woman I love and will not mind whether she is highborn or lowborn. That's the upside of being heir to nothing. I just had other things that were more important to me. And, no, before you say it, it was NOT a sacrifice. I did it because my heart was fully invested in it. It still is. Who knows perhaps when you are King, the women will flock to me when they see how important I am to that famous King." He added that last bit in a light tone in an effort to hide the fact that his emotions were getting the better of him.
  
  Jon left his chair and moved to sit on his knees before the bed. He lowered himself and carefully embraced his uncle. Benjen's arms closed around his nephew and held him as tight as his wound allowed. "I love you, Uncle. More than I can ever say. I hope you will be able to live close to me soon. I hate how little we see of each other."
  
  "I do too, Jon. I do too. Do not worry. Things will change soon. I am working on it. As soon as Robb has enough advisers he is willing to trust, I shall sail south and you will not be able to rid yourself of me."
  
  "I'll keep you to that." Jon murmured in his uncle's hair before softly disentangling them. "I am sorry I am such a sissy." He dried his eyes and cheeks."
  
  "Even a man needs to express his feelings once in a while. That doesn't turn you into a girl, Jon. Don't let my older brother know I told you, but he cried in my arms when baby Robb's fever broke when he fell seriously ill twelve moons after he was born. Every man, no matter how strong needs to let go from time to time."
  
  "Even you, Uncle?" Jon teased him.
  
  Benjen was glad Jon smiled for the first time since he had entered the room, even though it was only a watery smile. "Best prepare yourself. If that happens, it will probably be you that will have to deal with the flood."
  
  "Don't worry, I will have learned from the best." Jon's smile grew a bit wider.
  
  "On that note," his uncle hesitated, "perhaps we should think about retiring. There is always tomorrow."
  
  "There is. You are right. I am grateful you have given me so much of your time tonight. I feel much better. I might not look like it," Jon said as he got up from the bed. "But I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted of me. I think I will sleep well tonight."
  
  Standing next to the bed he hesitated but then bowed down and kissed his uncle's cheek.
  
  "Sleep well, Uncle. I'll see to it nobody disturbs you so you can wake up when your body has rested enough. See you tomorrow."
  
  "Sleep well Jon." His uncle smiled and waited until his nephew had closed the door before he adjusted his position so he was all set to fall asleep. The boy was in love. Ser Davos and Ser Barristan had warned him but he never would have guessed it was so much more serious than a first infatuation. Jon was really in love. He would go to the Godswood tomorrow and pray that all would turn out well. If anyone deserved happiness, his dearest nephew certainly did.
  
  Jon went back to his room. Not feeling like he would fall asleep anytime soon, he reviewed the messages he had received one more time. He had already sent a reply to Yara Greyjoy. That had been the most urgent one. All their correspondence of late had yielded the wanted result. The Golden Company had sent a few men and some banners, sails and armour to Yara Greyjoy who secretly occupied a small Island north east of Pyke now. They could outfit several ships with the sigil of the Golden Company and dress Ironborn up as its soldiers. They would be ready to attack Pyke soon when all her men had arrived. The only thing that was left was for him to let her know when he could be there with his dragons and to set the exact date for the attack.
  
  Jon had set a date for two sennights from now. He would enjoy a week of rest at Winterfell. Then fly to Eastwatch to evaluate the situation there and check in on Gendry and Sandor Clegane. He was frustrated by the stalemate beyond the Wall and would need to make a decision soon. As things stood now, perhaps he should pursue the Iron Throne first? That would certainly make Varys' life easier.
  
  He decided to sleep on it first. He would go to the training yard first thing after breaking his fast and bring his young cousins along as promised. Afterwards he would tackle the other messages together with Uncle Benjen and perhaps let Arya meet his dragons.
  
  Jon awoke very early the next morning. Even though he had retired rather late having spent some time reviewing the messages that had arrived for him and answering the urgent one before going to sleep, he felt well-rested for the first time since his bout of illness. Seeing the sun was not fully up yet he hoped it was still early enough to pay Arya back for that morning at Sea Dragon Point.
  
  Since Ghost was nowhere to be found and was probably out hunting or playing with his siblings, he asked a guard for directions to his youngest cousin's room. He left the bewildered man behind when he hurried to the corridor where the daughters of the Lord of Winterfell had their quarters. Making sure he had the right door he opened it slowly, making as little noise as possible and sneaked up to her bed. Satisfied that it was her dark hair he spotted on the pillow and not his elder cousin's red locks, he carefully manoeuvred both hands under the covers and tickled her.
  
  When she shrieked and sat up ready to jump out of bed he smiled and sang "Rise and shine, rise and shine, dearest cousin."
  
  Arya's expression immediately changed. Instead of being angry and ready to retaliate, her face lit up with excitement and she hugged him within an inch of his life.
  
  "Jon! Is it time for our sparring session already? Oh no, did I miss it?"
  
  "Not yet, not yet," he reassured her. "I just thought you might want to keep me company for breakfast. And I wanted to ask you to spare me some time this afternoon. There is someone, or rather two someones I would like to introduce you to. Can you make time for your poor adopted brother?"
  
  "Always." She promised against his ear, still hugging him.
  
  "I'll wait outside for you to get dressed and you can accompany me to the Great Hall then?" Jon gently freed himself from her embrace.
  
  "I'll be ready in no time!" Arya jumped out of bed and went behind a screen where Jon guessed her clothes would be lying from the night before.
  
  "Should we ask Sansa to come with us and join us for breakfast?" Jon asked as an afterthought.
  
  "Nooooh," Arya complained. "Besides, it takes her ages to make herself presentable. We would be starved if we waited for her. "I am much quicker. I'll be out before you know it."
  
  "I'll wait for you as long as it takes." He promised and went outside feeling happy to be amongst family once again.
  
  They encountered Rickon on their way to the Great Hall. They chose their seats so Jon could sit between the two of them. Since it was still early, not many people were present yet. The room filled slowly while they broke their fast. Robb appeared with the Maester at his side. Jon stood to greet him. Robb smiled back but gestured he would sit at a separate table to discuss some things with the Maester. Jon signalled back that he understood, sat down again and turned his attention back to Arya who had been talking non-stop during his silent dialogue with Robb.
  
  Jon did not linger long at the table after that and accompanied his young cousins to the training yard. After they had all donned their protective gear he asked them to show him how good they had already become.
  
  Before Jon had uttered another word, Rickon went over to a training dummy in a corner that was about his own size and started to show the strikes he had already been taught.
  
  Arya whispered in his ear. "Can I show you facing you instead of a dummy?"
  
  Jon nodded and asked her to wait her turn so he could give her brother his attention first. Her excited nod was answer enough.
  
  "Very good, Rickon. You must have a great teacher to possess such a powerful swing already. You can rest a bit while Arya shows us what she learned. Then I will teach you both some new moves."
  
  Rickon his face red from exertion but happy with Jon's praise sat down and watched Jon take on Arya.
  
  Jon enjoyed interacting with them. It reminded him of his time at Greywater Watch with Robb. He easily countered Arya's strokes but made sure not to discourage her. He paid attention to her technique so he could give her some useful tips. He did not let her get a stroke in however. That would make her overconfident. Ser Gerold had warned him often enough that to overestimate your skills was the worst mistake you could possibly make in a battle.
  
  "Yield!" He yelled as he held his sword to her neck and made a show of breathing heavily as if he had bested a very difficult opponent.
  
  "I yield." Arya was breathing heavy for real but her eyes shone with fulfilment. "I like fighting you, Jon. Can we do that again?"
  
  "As long as I am here, we will fight at least one bout each day." He promised. "But only if you do not neglect your other lessons and provided your mother is okay with it." He added hastily.
  
  "Now, I have some pointers for both of you. Pay attention." He provided to give them some useful tips first. They both had made the same errors Robb had during his first sparring sessions when he was eleven. He corrected their overswing and told them not to swing with all their force all of the time so they could spare their strength for when they went for a more important strike. When Rickon went back to practice on his dummy, he showed Arya some simple strike combinations.
  
  When he finished he noticed Edric and Loras had arrived and were the middle of their warming up. Jon went over to them and asked if they were willing to face him. He looked around to see if there were other sparring partners in the vicinity. Spotting Lady Brienne hesitating in the corner he called her over.
  
  "Lady Brienne, will you help me out here? I need a third opponent who can make it more difficult for me."
  
  "Are the two of us not enough of a challenge?" Edric asked a bit put out. "I know you are a good swordsman, but we take our trainings very seriously and have improved you know."
  
  "You'll just have to prove me wrong then." Jon smiled. "I propose two of you take me on and if I am able to make one of you yield Lady Brienne takes his place and we begin again. Until another one yields and so on. The session ends when one of you three can get me to yield."
  
  Loras looked at Edric. "Let's show him was he has taken on."
  
  They both took their starting position facing Jon, the intent clear on their faces.
  
  "Lady Brienne. Stand ready to replace my first victim." Jon warned and took his stance as well, a training sword in each hand.
  
  "Make your first move." He encouraged Loras Tyrell.
  
  Loras advanced and tried a head cut, which Jon parried and in one fell swoop cut of the swing Edric launched at his abdomen. The sword in Jon's left hand hit Edric under his arm. "Yield."
  
  Brienne stepped in feinted twice before striking toward his shoulder. Jon parried a strike from Loras moments before he blocked her sword. The moment Loras made a step forward Jon attacked him with a combination of strokes at a speed that had Loras of balance and he fell. Jon turned his attention on Brienne and only used his left hand to hold off Edric who had stepped up to replace Loras. Jon changed tactics now. Instead of meeting their swings he started evading them. He stepped left, backward, ducked and came up with a half turn to the right and attacked them sideways and had both of them yield moments apart.
  
  His three opponents looked at each other and reaching a silent consensus, attacked simultaneously. Jon anticipating their movements, manoeuvred himself between a wagon and a wall so they could not attack from behind and held all three of them off successfully. Several Lords had gathered on the rampart and were watching the spectacle below with growing amazement.
  
  Jon was still holding his position and his opponents were showing the first signs of exhaustion. Jon was also sweating profusely but relied on the speed of his strokes and the precision of his swings now and hardly moved from the spot he had chosen.
  
  It wasn't until Edric climbed on the wagon that he needed to revise his tactics slightly. He threw one sword at Edric and yelled yield when the unexpected move startled his friend and the sword hit its intended target. One sword in his hand was enough for the moment to hold Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne at bay since they could only attack him from the front. He was slowly getting cornered and tried to use the more complicated stroke combinations. He realised he needed to find a way to end the fight before he was trapped against the wall. The very moments he hit Loras Tyrell straight on his chest plate and ordered him to yield, Lady Brienne got a hit in on his left arm. "Got you," she yelled gleefully.
  
  Jon lowered his sword and bowed. "You did my Lady." He smiled.
  
  "Thanks, that was a good challenge. I'll take you on one by one later if you are still willing." He addressed this to all three of them. Loras and Edric were breathing heavily and were glad Jon was giving them time to recover.
  
  "Lady Brienne, will you assist me with the rest of my training? I recently started with additional exercises to develop my muscles. If you will join me for a run? He looked around for some heavy objects. His eyes fell on Rickon and Arya who of course had stopped their exercises long ago to witness Jon fighting off three opponents.
  
  Jon picked up Rickon and lifted him on his shoulders. "Arya your next, just wait here for me." Jon with Brienne following close behind turned in the direction of the inner gate. He ran part of the path between the old and new Wall of Winterfell, only to double back when he reached the glass gardens. Back in the training yard, he put Rickon down, bent his knees and gestured Arya to climb on his back. She was a lot heavier than her brother but her shouts encouraged him to keep enough speed. This time they left the confines of Winterfell and ran around the Godswood. He stopped at a small fountain and drank some water. He was getting better even though he had not regained his full strength yet.
  
  He showed Arya some muscle building exercises but told her to take it easy while she was still growing. Lady Brienne looked on with amusement smiling at the antics of both cousins. At one point, Jon was laying on his front propped on his hands his arms straigth. Arya sat on his back while Jon bent his arms lowering his head to the ground keeping a straight line from his shoulders to his feet. Arya tucked in her legs until Jon lifted himself up again by straightening his arms. Arya was keeping count. When she tried to mimic this exercise without additional weight on her back, she failed miserably.
  
  "You are still young Arya," he comforted her, not wanting to refer to her gender he added, "these muscles only develop in later years. Don't overdo it. Within a few years you will be able to do this. I had to learn as well." He showed her a variant, where she leaned on her knees instead of her feet.
  
  Soon Arya was been able to complete ten motions.
  
  After that, they decided training was over and walked leisurely back to the courtyard. As always Arya was talking non-stop.
  
  "I will get stronger than Robb if I practise all these new exercises in secret. I have never seen him do anything of the kind." Her competitive spirit was once more apparent.
  
  "Robb will not be able to train for some time. Do not pester him about it, Arya. He will feel useless enough as it is. Distract him with other things. Perhaps ask him to go for a run with you once he is feeling a bit better and his arm is no longer bandaged so heavily. Look out for him when I am gone, will you?"
  
  Arya had promised him, a serious expression on her face. Jon knew he had struck the right tone. She would rise to the occasion, proud he had entrusted her with such an important mission.
  
  When they re-entered the courtyard, Jon spotted the crowd that was still gathered there awaiting his return. He asked Brienne to accompany him to a more secluded spot for the rest of his muscle building exercises.
  
  Later Robb would tell him how impressed the Lords of the North had been, not only with his prowess with a sword but also with the time and energy he had put in to teach his little cousins. Those who had witnessed the entire session from the ramparts had spread the word.
  
  After a quick wash and properly attired, Jon went in search for Uncle Benjen.
  
  When he knocked on Robb's solar to see if his uncle was in there, Robb motioned him to enter.
  
  "Why are you looking for our Uncle?" Robb asked his cousin. He was seated behind his father's desk and was trying to deal with the newest demands from his bannermen.
  
  "I wanted to discuss some things with him before I sent out some messages to my entourage and my allies." Jon was quick to explain.
  
  "You do not handle that yourself?" Robb asked him looking a bit taken aback.
  
  Jon remembering his uncle's words of the night before, took a seat. "Most of them I could handle by myself if I wanted to. I prefer hearing another opinion or several opinions first if at all possible."
  
  When Robb frowned, Jon elaborated. "It is how I have always made decisions, at least for as long as I can remember. Not only does it make me feel surer that I am making the right decision, it sometimes helps me look at a problem from another angle. Often there is more than one solution to an issue. Listening to others has taught me to look for these other possibilities and not to be satisfied with the first answer I come up with. Some solutions are better than others."
  
  "Doesn't it make you look indecisive?" Robb asked surprised by this new insight in Jon's habits. He had seen his friend in action several times and had witnessed firsthand how his cousin had taken command of powerful Lords much older than himself neither hesitating nor doubting himself.
  
  "I do not think of it that way. You see, I listen to all their advice but it is still me who makes the final decision and they respect that. I still feel in control, Robb."
  
  He hesitated, not knowing whether his cousin would understand but he tried all the same."I must admit I like building solutions together. You see, someone starts with an idea. It can be me, or it can be someone else. It is only an idea, a start of a plan, something half finished. Sometimes something that is not feasible but it gives someone else another idea. Talking about it, we build on that. Each one adds knowledge from his own field of expertise and sometimes we construct an ideal solution nobody could have come up with on his own. Everybody knows different things, combining all this knowledge sometimes yields amazing results. The solutions that ensue from such deliberations are often the most rewarding ones."
  
  Jon studied his cousin hoping his words would have some impact.
  
  "I can't imagine father would approve of me doing things that way. He always ruled the North keeping his own council. His word is law and nobody questions his decisions." Robb eyed his cousin with skepticism now.
  
  "Are you sure though, Robb? You mostly only saw the end result. You saw your father proclaim his decisions in the Great Hall. Did he never take time perhaps days to reach a difficult decision? Are you certain he didn't confer with others in private? I am not talking about a small dispute between two nobles, I am sure he handled that himself, but what about when he needed to make major decisions? Do you really know how he came up with his solutions?"
  
  "I thought I did." Robb stammered after thinking it over for a while.
  
  "You can always write him and ask his opinion. I assure you, I miss my advisers greatly and am glad I can ask the advice of our uncle. Have you not benefited from his help?"
  
  "I have. But that is just because I am still getting the hang of things. I do not want to appear weak in the eyes of the other Lords. I already have my age against me."
  
  "Then every King would look weak because he governs not only with a Hand but with a small council as well. I disagree with respect, Robb. I am of the opinion that it is a wise man who seeks council and that only a fool thinks he has all the answers, knows all there is to know and does not need any aid in ruling a large kingdom or several for that matter." Jon smiled apologetically hoping he didn't come on too strong.
  
  "If you put it that way," Robb hesitated, clearly not sure if he should be offended. "But the Lords." He stopped what he had been about to say and started over. "Perhaps I will write to father about this."
  
  "Just think on it for a bit, Robb. That is all I ask. I can only give my advice and you decide what to do with it. That is my point after all." A tentative smile lit Jon's features. He gestured at the scrolls on the desk. "Anything I can help you with?"
  
  "Not for the moment." Robb declined in a tone that indicated he wanted to be left alone for now.
  
  Jon not wanting to overstay his welcome rose from his chair. "When we both have settled our separate business, tomorrow perhaps, I would like to sit down, the three of us and talk about Theon's fate and what to decide about House Bolton."
  
  "Are those not matters for the Warden of the North." Robb countered on the defensive now.
  
  "That is one of the things we can discuss then. I will argue that I need Theon alive to barter with Yara Greyjoy. And I might have some insights or call it ' suggestions ' about the future of House Bolton. It can't hurt to hear me out." Jon tried to keep his tone noncommittal.
  
  "Okay, if that is scheduled for tomorrow, what are your plans for the rest of today?" Robb asked still a bit tense.
  
  "I was looking for Uncle Benjen, remember? I will talk with him and then decide on the most urgent actions to take. Afterwards I intend to take a stroll with Arya. I want to tell her who I am before she hears it from someone else. We will walk to the woods so I can introduce her to my dragons.
  
  "Why Arya first? Why not Mother, Sansa or Willas Tyrell for that matter? Did you know he has been trying to wheedle information out of almost every noble present?" Robb eyed his cousin with curiosity.
  
  "I wanted to single Arya out because she deserves it, kind of? Apart from you, she is the only one who made the effort to keep in touch and I trust her. She is loyal and old enough. Rickon is still too young. Bran knows from what I have gathered from the last letter I received from Lord Reed. Your mother knows as well." Jon sighed. "To tell you the truth, I fear Arya's resentment if she hears it from someone else which is bound to happen with so many people in the know."
  
  "I understand Jon. But the same goes for Lord Tyrell, I mean Willas Tyrell. Don't you worry he will overhear something or will eventually find someone willing to answer his questions?"
  
  "You are right. I'll better seek him out before that happens. Although I am not sure how to handle that discussion, I am afraid. You see, these are the sort of things I want to discuss with my advisers first. In such a situation we list all the pros and cons so I can devise a strategy. Strictly speaking there is no one hundred per cent right or wrong approach here. There is only a slightly better and a slightly worse option. It soothes my conscience that I at least tried my best to make the best decision possible when things do not turn out exactly how I wished them to."
  
  Before Robb could react someone knocked. The unexpected sound startled Robb more than Jon would have expected. His cousin's sudden movement would have spilled the inkpot if Jon's quick reflexes had not steadied the small receptacle. Jon acted as if he didn't notice the panicked look Robb shot at the door.
  
  "Am I disturbing some private moment? Shall I come back later?" Uncle Benjen stood in the doorway also not commenting on what he had just witnessed.
  
  "Not at all. I think we were finished, isn't that so Robb?" Jon kept his voice and face neutral.
  
  Robb nodded and invited his uncle in.
  
  Jon met him on his way to the door. "Hello Uncle, I had been looking for you earlier as a matter of fact. When you have finished here, will you come find me? There is a matter I need your advice on. I'll keep myself busy in the library."
  
  When his uncle raised his eyebrow questioningly, Jon amended. "Well, perhaps more than one matter." He smiled apologetically.
  
  "I'll be there soon Jon. I need a word with Robb first."
  
  Jon nodded. "Then I will leave you two to it." He went to the door and turned around. "I'll see you later today, Robb? You do realise that if you were in better health, I would have you come along when I take that walk I told you about?"
  
  "I know, Jon. Sorry if I was perhaps a bit short with you. Just give me some time. And I'll make sure to see you later. I'm not going anywhere anyway." Robb nodded his head.
  
  Jon responded with a nod at both Starks and left the room.
  
  Jon entered the library and left the door open so his uncle would certainly spot him when he walked past. He halted when he saw that Lord Willas Tyrell was seated at a table with several large tomes open in front of him.
  
  "I'm sorry. I did not want to disturb you. You are Lord Tyrell, I presume? I saw you last night in the Great Hall but I do not think we were formally introduced." Jon opened the conversation not knowing whether this was a lucky coincidence or if he should have avoided the encounter altogether.
  
  "Well met, Lord Celtigar. Your reputation precedes you." Willas Tyrell had stood up and dipped his head fractionally.
  
  "My reputation?" Jon wondered how outspoken the grandson of Lady Olenna would be.
  
  "Well your cousin Arya, Lady Brienne, and of course my brother have told me bits and pieces. If I am honest, I am a bit intrigued." Willas answered without hesitation, relishing the opportunity to talk to the elusive Lord.
  
  "What intrigues you the most, my friendship with House Stark or the fact that you have not found anything significant about House Celtigar in any of those books?" Jon was starting to enjoy baiting Willas Tyrell.
  
  "You caught me there. To be honest, I was looking through these books for mention of a marriage between House Stark and House Celtigar. You certainly look a lot like a Stark, if you don't mind my saying." Willas Tyrell openly studied the grey Stark eyes and the dark curls from up close. With the well-groomed beard, the young lord resembled Lord Eddard Stark even more.
  
  "I don't mind. I consider it a compliment to be compared to such a noble house." Jon replied keeping his face neutral.
  
  "I can't help but suspect that my brother's secretive behaviour has some connection to you. He came back from the Riverlands with secrets and I surmised that that is where he met you." The elder Tyrell brother tried once more to get Jon to talk.
  
  "I won't lie. It is connected to me." Jon offered just enough information to keep the heir to Highgarden interested.
  
  "And you are not willing to tell me more about that?" Willas Tyrell decided to stop playing games and put the young Lord on the spot.
  
  "I am willing if you are prepared to bear the consequences." Jon needed all his experience to keep his face blank and not give him a teasing smile.
  
  "I am sorry. Would you care to elaborate? I can't help but get the feeling that I am being threatened somehow?" Willas Tyrell was getting uneasy. Lord Celtigar stood between him and the only exit to the library. The man had a beautiful sword made of Valyrian steel and knew how to use it. That much the servants had been willing to tell him.
  
  "I would like to call it a fair warning instead of a threat. I just want you to understand that I am prepared to tell you all you are dying to know but it comes with a condition. If you are not willing to take a vow to keep it a secret for as long as needed, you will not be allowed to leave the North for the time being and all your outgoing messages will be checked." Jon kept his tone friendly. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the heir to Highgarden.
  
  "You can enforce that? You really mean to say that House Stark will let you confine me here as a virtually hostage? I have been given guest rights. You cannot be serious."
  
  Both men were staring each other down. Jon didn't budge.
  
  "I am deadly serious. Not a single hair on your head will be harmed but you will remain House Stark's guest for a while longer. Now do you still want to know who I really am and how I am connected to House Stark?" Jon kept his face impassive as he intimidated Willas Tyrell.
  
  "Jon? Here you are. I thought I heard your voice. Excuse me for the interruption, Lord Tyrell. I need to speak to my uh to Lord Celtigar." Benjen Stark looked at both men who seemed ready to declare war on each other.
  
  Jon relaxed his shoulders. "Think about it Lord Tyrell. Just come find me when you want more information."
  
  Without waiting for Willas' response, Jon turned toward his uncle. "I am free now. Let's adjourn to my room."
  
  "What was that all about?" Uncle Benjen asked him the moment they were out of earshot of the library. "Isn't he about to leave anyway?"
  
  "He is just curious, Uncle. He knows that Loras has a secret and has figured out it has to do with me. He was only trying to get me to tell him."
  
  "Tell me you didn't threaten him?" Benjen Stark had felt the tension between the two young men when he had inadvertently interrupted them.
  
  "I didn't threaten him." Jon reassured his uncle immediately. "I just issued a friendly warning. I told him that if he really wanted to know who I was and he was not willing to take a vow to keep the secret afterwards, he would not be allowed to leave Winterfell for the time being and would not be free to send messages without having their content screened. I didn't raise my voice and kept my tone friendly. Anyway, don't feel sorry for him. Feel sorry for me. He started it when he asked his questions directly to my face."
  
  "He will pick it up in the hallways soon enough. The entire keep is talking about you." His uncle warned him.
  
  "Well, it appears he hasn't so far. Perhaps 'the entire keep' knows when to keep silent? I bet he will come find me soon enough. I saw his resolve weaken and might have folded in there had you not interrupted us."
  
  "You asked me to come find you and I did. And for the record, I am not feeling sorry for anyone."
  
  They entered Jon's room and sat down at the small table. "Well, here I am. Let us get this over with."
  
  "Can I offer you a drink before we start, Uncle. "
  
  "Robb did the honours, I am fine."
  
  Jon poured himself a cup of water and drank greedily.
  
  "I must thank you for talking to Robb. Your preparations made it easy for me to get him to accept some changes." His uncle remarked.
  
  Jon looked surprised for a moment but then understood. "You asked him to appoint some advisers?"
  
  "I got him to consider discussing his issues for the upkeep of Winterfell with Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel. And he is also considering inviting the second son of Lord Manderly for a visit upon his father's agreement." His uncle confirmed.
  
  "He was more reluctant when I proposed to install a kind of small council to govern the North. I might have overdone it when I suggested making a habit of gathering the major bannermen perhaps twice a year to discuss their demands. Even though I argued that that would temper the demands of the Lords, knowing their requests would become common knowledge and that it would ingratiate them to House Stark when they get the impression that they have a bit of a say in the governing of the Kingdom they all live in, Robb resisted. In the end he agreed to write to his father about this idea."
  
  "I am surprised you got him to agree to hear the advice of Cassel adn Maester Luwin. He seemed a bit out of spirit and rather short tempered when I spoke to him. I even had the fleeting feeling he didn't trust me at one point."
  
  "Jon," his uncle sighed, "keep in mind the ordeal he went through. He suffered a great shock and no matter how strong a front he keeps up, on the inside he is still traumatised. We cannot begin to understand the things he suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow. It is a wonder he is so coherent."
  
  "I know. I saw the dark circles under his eyes. I am at a loss of how to deal with him. I do not want to treat him as if he is breakable, but then if I treat him as an equal and he can't deal with it, he bites back." He looked to his uncle for advice.
  
  "The only thing we can do is be patient, try not to put too much pressure on him and distract him when we see his thoughts wander to dark places. That night at the Dreadfort, the three of you kept him company I heard. That was a splendid idea. You should orchestrate more of these encounters."
  
  "That was Edric's idea." Jon gave credit where it was due. "I will see to it we end the evening in Robb's room tonight."
  
  "Okay, now that that is settled. What do you need my advice about?"
  
  Jon proceeded to talk to him about the messages he had prepared to Ser Gerold and how he had tried to find the right tone to inform him of Sandor Clegane's change of status and how Lady Brienne of Tarth had been appointed has his replacement. He told him about the timing he had agreed to for the attack on Pyke and that he was leaving for Eastwatch in less than a sennight.
  
  "I was hoping things could be resolved beyond the Wall before I had to fly back South and that Edric and Brienne could leave for Eastwatch as well. But it seems I am in a bit of a bind. What do I do if the enemy keeps holed up in the far North?"
  
  His uncle told him that if he was going to fly to Eastwatch anyway, he should not worry and make hypothetical decisions before knowing the exact situation. He could send a raven as soon as he decided to send for Lord Dayne and Lady Brienne."
  
  Still they went through several possible plans of actions before his uncle decided they had exhausted the subject.
  
  "Robb proposed we meet in his room tomorrow afternoon after the mid-day meal. He told me you asked to discuss Theon Greyjoy's fate and the future of House Bolton."
  
  "Did he show you his displeasure as well? With me he acted rather offended when I wanted to have a say in Theon's fate." Jon complained and looked at his uncle for support.
  
  His uncle looked startled. "Not at all. I had the impression he was all for it and that it was his idea to involve you in the decision. Do not take it to heart, Jon. Once more I must ask you to bear in mind that Robb is in physical pain as well as suffering from a mental trauma."
  
  "I am willing to do anything that might help him. I will do better, Uncle." Jon promised.
  
  "Before I leave, what is that I hear about you taking Arya to see the dragons? Have you not already earned her undying love?" His uncle's tone was teasing.
  
  Jon smiled and felt the tension leave him slowly as he told Uncle Benjen exactly why he would take his youngest cousin to see Rhaegal and Viserion.
  
  Arya's reaction had been rather predictable. She had not been offended in the least for being kept in the dark for so long. She was super proud he told her before he told Sansa and Rickon.
  
  Jon had promised Arya to show her something in the woods but that he first needed to tell her a secret. He had persuaded her to share a horse so he could talk more privately with her on the way over there. Lady Brienne would follow them but would keep her distance. When Arya had asked him why Lady Brienne came along, Jon had explained he had promised to take the necessary precautions and she was there to act as a guard.
  
  Sitting behind her on the horse, they set a leisurely pace. Jon held the reigns with one hand and had the other around her waist.
  
  "Jon, I am dying of curiosity here. The way you asked me I know it is a really nice surprise."
  
  "I think it is. One you'll never guess." He stalled on purpose to elicit a reaction.
  
  "Jooooo'ooon," she groaned taking his bait. "I already vowed I would keep your secret. Please, puh-leeze tell me now?"
  
  "Pretty please with a cherry on top?" He teased her some more.
  
  "Anything you want. Just tell me." She all but ordered him.
  
  Leaning towards her he quietly started to tell her of their kinship. "What would you say if instead of your adopted brother, I was your kin by blood, that in fact I am your cousin?"
  
  "Truly? " She turned her head a bit so she could look at him. "How is that even possible? Uncle Benjen never married and Uncle Edmure hasn't either."
  
  "Don't you think we look alike somewhat?" He gave her a clue. "Same dark hair, same eyes, even our noses have some similarities. Who do they always say you resemble the most, Arya?"
  
  "Aunt Lyanna?! But, but." She stopped. She had adjusted her position again and he couldn't see her expression.
  
  "I am your aunt Lyanna's son. See, she was never kidnapped. Who could kidnap the wild Wolf and live to tell the tale? You see, she fell in love and eloped. I am her son and your cousin." He loosened his arm around her waist a bit, allowing her space so she could think things through.
  
  "She married Lord Celtigar from the Driftmark? How come Father never knew?" Arya finally asked him.
  
  "He knew Arya. But it was all a big secret because I am not really Lord Celtigar. Your father knew that as well and he protected me. Uncle Benjen knew as well. Will you believe me if I tell you I am actually a Prince?"
  
  He was sure that even with the distance Lady Brienne was keeping between them, she could still hear Arya's exclamation.
  
  "You're a Prince!"
  
  "Shhh Arya. Keep your voice down. It is supposed to be a secret for now, remember." He could see the blush spreading on her right cheek.
  
  "I am sorry, Jon. I promise, I won't forget ever again." She whispered. She turned her head a bit so she could look him in the eye. "Your father was a King or a Prince?" He waited sure it would come to her any moment now.
  
  "Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!" She exclaimed but kept her voice down. "Did Aunt Lyanna really love him?"
  
  "So I am told by three famous Kingsguards. I do not want to call the Sword of the Morning a liar, Arya." He teased.
  
  "No way?!"
  
  "Oh now you call me a liar as well? Me, your very best friend in the realm." Jon smiled at her. "Isn't your neck hurting? Perhaps you should face forward again."
  
  "Let us dismount. I wanna hear everything and be able to look at you when you tell me. I expect it is quite a story. Tell it all, Jon. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."
  
  "We can stop for a bit by the banks of the river over there. But not too long, you hear. We need to get back to Winterfell by supper. I promised your mother you would have time to wash up and change before supper." Jon helped her dismount.
  
  Arya made quick work of finding the perfect spot and she all but ordered Jon to sit next to her and start spilling. Jon gave her a censured version of his life. When he finished they looked at each other an identical expression of contentment on both their faces. Arya didn't stay silent for long.
  
  "You are a Prince for real? And father is helping to make you King? You will be the best King in the entire realm!" She suddenly turned very still. Her voice wavered a bit when she asked. "Will you still be my friend?"
  
  "Of course, Arya." He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "You are one of my very best friends and that will not change. If you keep the secret for now you can boast later that you are a cousin of the King and that he is your very best friend to everyone who will hear you. You can also tell them that you knew before they did but that the King personally trusted you to keep his secret." Seeing she still wasn't entire reassured he added.
  
  "Besides we are cousins. You can't escape the acquaintance now. You will be invited for nameday parties, marriages, perhaps even the occasional tournament."
  
  Arya nodded vigorously totally on board now. She rearranged their positions so her back leaned against his chest. "Will you need to marry a Princess? Oh, is a cousin of a King a Princess as well?"
  
  Jon didn't reply immediately. The way she had nestled himself against him had already reminded him of his dragonride with Daenerys. Her question made the image even more vivid. He put his arms around her skinny body.
  
  "Not necessarily." He answered after a while. It was the exact same answer to both her questions but he didn't point that out. He distracted her by telling her of his plans.
  
  "But I intend to make you a Princess as soon as I am King. You see, I will proclaim that the North becomes a Principality just the same as Dorne. Your father and brothers will be Princes and your mother, you and Sansa will become Princesses of the North."
  
  "I don't care about that. I am not sure I want to be a Princess. I will not marry and become some dull Lady of a keep. I want to become a warrior."
  
  "If you still want that when you are old enough to decide that for yourself, I promise to talk to your parents."
  
  Arya turned her head around and showed him how happy that statement made her. She sing-songed her reaction but kept her voice down. "And you can't say no to a King, you always have to respect and obey your King. Thanks Jon."
  
  "I won't order them, Arya." He warned her. "I only promise that come the time, I will do my utmost to persuade them. That is if you have not changed your mind by then. But let us not talk about the future. I am no King yet. Let's talk about what I am about to show you in the woods. I am a Targaryen Prince and I have another secret. Can you guess what it is?"
  
  "I already know you have a Valyrian sword." Arya looked deep in thought. "Can you give me a hint? I like riddles."
  
  Jon whispered secretively in her ear. "I told you I was your cousin because I am the son of your Aunt Lyanna." Arya nodded.
  
  "That means I am half Stark and I have Ghost to prove it. Well, since Prince Rhaegar was aunt Lyanna's husband and he sired me, I am half Targaryen and I have something to prove that as well."
  
  "No way! Jon, don't tell me." Arya stopped, too shocked to put her idea into words. She was scared he would say that she had it all wrong and that when he revealed what is actually was that he wanted to show her in the woods it would turn out to be something stupid or boring.
  
  "Okay I won't." Jon teased. "So we won't be visiting my dragons then. We better turn around and hurry back to Winterfell. Rhaegal and Viserion will be disappointed though. I promised them they would get to meet my favourite cousin today."
  
  The rest of her behaviour had indeed been predictable. Even though Jon had warned her several times not to approach both dragons before he told her it was okay, she had not been scared in the least. Rhaegal and Viserion had taken a short interest in her but had soon gone back to sleep when they couldn't sense any dragonblood in this other kin of their human. Arya hadn't minded. She had just sat there against a tree admiring them and she still would have been there if eventually, Jon had not dragged her back to their horse and taken her home to Winterfell.
  
  Interlude 27: The prodigal son
  
  Two days ago it had been now since he had arrived home. Two days of waiting for his father to acknowledge his return and hear him out. Prince Quentyn was starting to think that these two days had been even more miserable that the entire time he had been kept imprisoned by pirates.
  
  He realised that his father would be extremely disappointed or more accurately he would be furious. Ever since he had been set free he had done nothing but try to come up with some version of the truth that would not set his father off and get him severely punished or perhaps even disinherited. But all that time hadn't helped him it seemed. When Areo Hotah brought him before the ruler of Dorne, words failed him when his father hurled his accusation at him.
  
  "I am sorry, Father. I only did what you told me." People thought Doran Martell was weak but Prince Quentyn was afraid of his father. 'What did that make him?' He stiffened his posture, steeling himself for the next attack.
  
  "I told you to marry the Princess by any means necessary. I did not ask you to be captured by pirates and come home with a whore you claim is your wedded wife and pregnant with your firstborn." His father leaned forward in his plus chair, his eyes dark and angry.
  
  Prince Quentyn's voice sounded hoarse and bitter when he defended himself. "I did what I had to in order to survive and come back to you, Father. They told me that you had declined to pay a ransom and that my only way out was marrying the daughter of the pirate captain and produce an heir that would inherit Dorne. They warned me they would come visit at regular intervals to be reassured about the health of my wife and heir. I had no choice."
  
  "You always have a choice." His father was quick to answer. He scoffed. "I reckon you enjoyed sticking your dick into a silver haired girl. Was she a maiden? Did you close your eyes and pretended you were fucking Daenerys Targaryen?"
  
  Prince Quentyn was speechless. His father taking advantage of having the upper hand continued his tirade.
  
  "No pirate child will become heir of Dorne, not even if you were to become my successor if Gods forbid something happened to your sister. Don't those dumb raiders know how the succession is regulated by Dornish law? I hope that at the very least you explained to them that Princess Arianne is your elder sister and the first in the line to succeed me.
  
  "I didn't, I uh," Quentyn stammered.
  
  "Let me be clear," his father looked at him with contempt now. "I do not recognise your so-called marriage. Your whore is not welcome to live on Dornish soil unless she is willing to accept her status as a mere mistress and that the child will be a Sand and will not be entitled to a single thing. If you don't have the stomach to tell her, by all means, send her to me. Now leave me. I do not want to lay eyes on you again before the matter has been settled."
  
  "But what about uh the pirates' visits?"
  
  "They were bluffing. You have no backbone, son. You can't get a poor exiled princess to marry you and you let yourself be tricked by a few threats made by some pirate scumbags. Now go and explain to your whore exactly what a Sand is."
  
  "But father, you should hear me out. I have intelligence about those dragons. You will want to hear this." He pleaded, desperate to obtain some kind of recognition from his father.
  
  Doran tried to straighten himself without giving away how much pain he was in. His affliction was getting worse but he was not willing to let his son know how bad his gout had gotten during his absence.
  
  "Why didn't you begin your sorry tale with that? Or were you too afraid to tell me that you let the princess and her dragon escape." His father's resentment hadn't lessened one bit.
  
  "The dragons do not belong to the Princess Daenerys." At his father's questioning look he added. "Yes, father, there are two dragons. Someone at the docks in Pentos described them as a green one and a white one. They claimed there was only one rider though and it was a male. So it couldn't have been the Princess." His tone slightly berating his father for the fool's errand he had been sent on.
  
  "Did you find out who the dragonrider was?" Doran Martell asked, remembering his younger brother's latest cryptic letter.
  
  Prince Quentyn, glad his father finally was willing to hear him out was quick to elaborate. "I only heard theories. Some servant girl told me the dragonrider had visited with the Princess. A beggar on the street told me however it was a sellsword belonging to the Golden Company, a bastard son of a great Northern House that had fled to Essos because his family was ashamed of him."
  
  "A bastard son of a Northern House with Valyrian blood? Nonsense! Did they say who the mother was?"
  
  "Well, the tale grows even stranger. On my way over here I heard some sailors talk about how the Hand of the King had cheated the rightful heir of Winterfell out of his inheritance and that the young man would come to take his ancestral seat with dragons. When I asked who they were talking about they told me that Brandon Stark had married a woman at the Driftmark and that she had given birth to a son who resembles Lord Stark so much, nobody doubts his story." Prince looked at his father expectantly.
  
  "You are a bigger fool than I ever thought possible. Coming home with nothing but fanciful rumours. And what is worse, believing them as well." His father declared with authority.
  
  "But Father," Prince Quentyn began pleadingly.
  
  "Think Quentyn. A dragonrider shows up in Pentos and visits the Princess. What is more likely? That he is a bastard of a northern house or that he is kin to the Targaryen Princess he happens to visit? Perhaps Viserys isn't dead but has dyed his hair to fool us all. Must I do everything myself?" He pulled a chord to summon Areo Hotah.
  
  "What will you do? Will you write the Princess?" Prince Quentyn was out of his depth. He could not understand his father's reasoning.
  
  "I can't do that because of your actions, you oaf. Even your uncle has gotten wind somehow of your despicable behaviour and has cautioned me not to wake the dragon. He claims he was well on his way to forge a useful alliance with a very powerful ally and that my actions may have doomed us all to burn now."
  
  Prince Quentyn wasn't sure he'd ever forget the accusatory eyes of his father that looked at him as if he had murdered every last man in Dorne.
  
  "But Father," Prince Quentyn tried once more to lessen his father's ire or at the very least to redirect it.
  
  "No but father me. You were asked to do whatever necessary to marry her. Resorting to violence was only allowed if you succeeded in making her pregnant. You didn't succeed however, did you? I do not want to hear another excuse from your worthless mouth. Now leave my sight and ask your sister to join me. I do not want to see you before you have solved the issue with that pregnant whore. Oh, and you are responsible for our shore defenses. I will not allow the slightest failure. Nobody lands on our shores without my express permission. That includes pirates and noble visitors, whether they originate from Westeros or Essos. Now leave!" His father bellowed.
  
  Doran Martell slumped in his chair when the door closed after him. He felt drained. He had used every last bit of energy not to show his son how frail he was becoming. He was extremely disappointed in his first born. He wondered if it would have not been better had his son perished at sea.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon uses the rest of his time at Winterfell to help Robb, to reason with Sansa and to talk to Domeric Bolton. He also deals with Willas Tyell. Gendry is working hard at Eastwatch.
  
  In interlude 28 it will be high season for ravens.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Breathing space
  Chapter 28: Breathing space
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon uses his time at Winterfell to recuperate, helps Robb a bit and talks with Sansa, Willas Tyrell, Domeric Bolton to name a few. He travels to Eastwatch and reunites with Gendry.
  
  In the interlude it is high season for ravens.
  
  Notes:
  
  Here's another chapter, written by me and proofread by Ravenousreadr, who thankfully is always there to help me along.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  After supper in his uncle's solar, Jon revealed to Sansa who he really was in the presence of Robb and Lady Catelyn. Sansa took the news in stride, politely congratulated him with his good fortune but didn't ask further questions or showed any kind of emotions. Soon after, she asked to be excused. When Jon looked at Robb raising one eyebrow, Robb just shrugged. Lady Catelyn gave some flimsy excuse for her daughter's behaviour, something about Sansa having had a trying day and left soon after.
  
  "Sansa has been trying everyone's patience." Robb told him when his mother had closed the door behind her. "I can't understand her at all. She hasn't once acknowledged Edric. He was talking about leaving before I uh, well you know before what. And now he is once more talking about leaving for Eastwatch. If we can't think of something fast, my sister will be responsible for chasing away a good friend of mine." Robb's expression made it clear that he was not happy at all with Edric's imminent departure.
  
  "Robb, he only was supposed to be here for the duration of the royal visit. He has stayed much longer already. He either needs to resume his training under the tutelage of Ser Arthur or return to Starfall. If anything, he stayed longer because of Sansa."
  
  "Loras is talking about leaving with you as well." Robb complained.
  
  "It is not as if we are all going on a pleasure trip without you, Robb. We are headed right into danger. We are preparing to face an enemy that outnumbers us at least ten to one. We are going to defend the North."
  
  Jon walked over the hearth and stoked the fire that needed rekindling. He petted Ghost who lay lazily in front of the fireplace. Jon remembered Lady Catelyn's ire when she had realised that the wolf would be there for the duration of the meeting. He had noticed the pursing of her lips the moment she spotted the direwolf. A pertinent look from Jon had been enough to get her to keep silent and ignore the animal's presence. He savoured every moment he could spend in Ghost's company. If he was honest, he took some pleasure in these small victories over Lady Catelyn. Somehow Robb's mother rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn't remember ever addressing her as Aunt Catelyn. He always used a more formal title when he couldn't avoid talking to her.
  
  He turned back to face Robb who hadn't moved an inch and just sat there staring into the flames with empty eyes and a dejected look on his face.
  
  "It is only logical that they leave when Lord Umber and his houseguards do." Jon made another attempt to get Robb to see that his friends' leaving had nothing to do with deserting him. "They will have a guide and extra protection for a large part of the journey. I will ask Lord Umber to send some of his men with them to see them safely to Eastwatch once they have reached the Last Hearth. Don't forget they are not accustomed to travelling this far north."
  
  "I know." Robb looked up now, his eyes registering his environment again. "Lord Umber and Lord Karstark have asked for a meeting with me. Tomorrow if possible so they can make preparations to leave Winterfell afterwards and start the journey back to their keeps in the next few days."
  
  Robb sighed and looked exhausted doing so. "I am sorry. I sometimes wish Father was here. I have not been able to discuss what to do about Greyjoy and Bolton with Uncle Benjen and you yet. I do not know if I can handle both meetings in one day and I might need time to think on what you two will advise me first."
  
  "If you feel pressured, tell the Lords tomorrow is not convenient and you will meet with them the day after. You are their acting Liege Lord. And Robb, your father can't be here but our uncle can. Let Uncle Benjen sit in on that meeting. Even if you are the one they address and who will answer their questions, the Lords are more likely to keep their demands reasonable if he is present."
  
  Robb nodded and sat up a bit straighter. "I will keep that in mind. Perhaps if I have a good night's rest I will be able to meet with them later in the afternoon tomorrow."
  
  "Be sure not to get cornered into making decisions before you are ready. Just hear what your bannermen have to say and then tell them that you will let them know your answer at your earliest convenience. I reckon they will want to know what will happen to the Dreadfort and its surrounding lands. They might argue they are entitled to some of the spoils since they helped out."
  
  "I know, Jon. I was planning on hearing yours and Uncle's recommendations on that particular matter and see if we can reach a consensus. If that is not the case, I plan to write Father before making a final decision regarding such a major bannerman's fate."
  
  "That seems like you have a good plan of action in place. Forget about it for now. Perhaps we can all join you in your room in a bit? We must take advantage of this time that all of us are still at Winterfell. I know Loras and Edric enjoy our little get-togethers and I do too."
  
  "I'll be expecting you three." The corners of Robb's mouth moved slightly upwards. "I look forward tothese gatherings as well. They are the most pleasant part of my day."
  
  "See you soon then." Jon left the room and went in search of Loras and Edri c.
  
  The next morning, Jon was surprised to see Sansa join them in the Great Hall where he was breaking his fast. It was the first time she was up this early. She took the seat closest to him and paid him every attention. When he started his training session, he noticed her standing about in the courtyard. She stayed out there the entire duration and made a point of watching him to the exclusion of anyone else. During lunch she was able to seat herself next to him once more and flirted with him for all to see. Later that afternoon he was on his way to the courtyard when she accosted him once more.
  
  "Jon, please be a dear and escort me outside. I want to take a stroll around the Godswood."
  
  Jon reigned in his temper and reminded himself that she counted only fourteen namedays. He saw right through her childish seducing tone and knew exactly why she was using him.
  
  He took her arm and led her to an alcove. "Just stop it, Sansa. This ends now. You are just using me to get back at Edric."
  
  Sansa startled and looked up at him with big pleading eyes. "If you know that, why don't you help me and just play along? I want to hurt him just as he hurt me."
  
  Jon let go of her arm, took a step back and tried to keep his tone friendly. "Sansa, first of all, you are asking the wrong man. Edric is one of my best friends. I will not lift a finger to hurt him. And while it is never nice to deliberately hurt someone, it is even worse when you add to Edric's burden when he already is struggling to cope with the situation. He is doing everything he can to get your father's consent. But by all means keep up your current behaviour and he may change his mind. You are doing your best to lose him Sansa and I do not think that such is your wish at all."
  
  "Of course it is not. I want him to... ," she gasped. "Of course, you know all. You are the influential friend who doesn't want to help us." Her voice was sharp as she accused him and she tried to take a step back but bumped into the wall.
  
  "Sansa, you do not know what you are talking about. Please listen to yourself. You are acting very childish, very selfish. Think about what you are doing, please. You need to convince your parents that you are mature enough to know what you want and what will make you happy. I am sure your mother reports every detail of your behaviour to your father."
  
  Seeing her pale he knew he finally had gotten through to her.
  
  "How can Lord Dayne convince your father that you love him and that even though you are still rather young, you both are very sure that you want this betrothal? Lady Catelyn will write to him that you have set your sights on me ever since you learned who I am. Hells, even the little spies of the Master of Whispers will confirm the reports to your father. Not to mention what the Lords present here will think of you."
  
  "I am sorry, Jon. I didn't mean to. But I am so unhappy." Tears fell down her cheeks.
  
  Jon fought against the natural instinct of pulling her in a comforting embrace and settled for putting a hand on her shoulder.
  
  "I know, Sansa. But keep in mind that you are not the only one who is miserable. If anything you should help each other cope instead of adding to the other's misery."
  
  A servant entered the corridor they were standing in, but disappeared in a room without reacting to their presence. Jon started to get uncomfortable and almost regretted confronting her. When she looked back up at him he was relieved to notice that she had calmed down and gave her some much needed advice.
  
  "Alter your behaviour toward me as well as toward Edric, treat both of us as friends but no more in public. I will try to stop the rumours from reaching your father and write to him the Gods know what to counter your mother's reports. You better write something to your father as well."
  
  "Can't you do more, Jon? Being who you are, I mean."
  
  Jon sighed. "Lord Stark is your father, Sansa. I can only stall a betrothal he would want to make to further my cause, arguing there might be other options. Believe me. We have been working on that already. We are also doing everything we can to raise Lord Dayne in your father's esteem. But the rest is up to you two." His eyes were willing her to get his message without him needing to put her on the spot more than he already had."
  
  "I didn't know. I haven't spoken to Edric, I mean Lord Dayne in a while." Sansa looked miserably.
  
  "Well, now you do know. Edric and I have not given up hope. You can at least acknowledge his company once in a while. He is starting to think you do not like him any longer and that you prefer to catch a royal husband instead." Jon kept his tone gentle not wanting to make her more upset than she already was.
  
  "I am not. I assure you I am not." She pleaded with him to believe her.
  
  "It is not me you should reassure, Sansa." Jon looked around to see if anyone was listening in. The hallway was deserted and all the doors were closed as far as he could see.
  
  "What if you go to the Godswood as planned but not in my company? Go alone. I will find Edric and ask him if he is willing to join you there for a few moments. Lady Brienne will chaperone from a distance, so keep it decent."
  
  Sansa blushed even harder. "Of course. Thank you, Jon." She curtsied and stepped aside so she could walk past him to the exit.
  
  Jon presumed a formal stance, bowed to her and held out his arm. "Well then, my Lady. Let me escort you a small part of the way."
  
  The next morning Brienne woke Jon rather early and informed him that Lord Willas Tyrell asked for a private meeting with Lord Celtigar. According to Brienne, he was packed and ready to leave but wanted to talk to him first. He was waiting in the library. Jon hurried through his morning's ablutions dressed himself quickly and made his way over there before breaking his fast. The heir of Highgarden came to the point immediately.
  
  "I won't leave here under false pretenses," he announced as soon as Jon had closed the door so they could speak in private. "It would not help settle matters between our houses and you have the fate of my younger brother in your hands."
  
  "My Lord," Jon had replied surprised by these statements. "Has anything happened? Is Loras all right?"
  
  "He is. He is waiting in the courtyard to take his leave of me. I hope you will still allow me to leave when I have told you all that I have come here to say. But I wanted to prove to you that House Stark isn't the only house in the realm that knows the true meaning of the word honour."
  
  "Do you want to take a seat?" Jon eyed the Tyrell heir who stood stiffly, dossed out in a heavy fur coat ready to travel across the cold northern fields.
  
  "No, this won't take long, I hope. I want you to be aware that I heard some servants talk last night while I was looking out my window admiring the stars before retiring. I am sure they didn't know I was there but I reckon I have a good grasp of the situation now."
  
  "What is it you think you know, Lord Tyrell?" Jon kept his tone even. His mind was shifting through several possibilities.
  
  "I know who your parents were and that you have more than a direwolf as a pet. I also know that you are going to press your claim and that the North, the Vale and the Riverlands will support you."
  
  "That is quite a lot." Jon eyed Willas Tyrell who stood as still as a statue. He noticed the uncertainty flitter in the eyes of the Tyrell heir.
  
  "And how do you propose we handle this situation, Lord Tyrell?" Jon decided to hear him out and give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, nobody had forced Willas Tyrell to confess this. The man had voluntarily jeopardised his much wished for departure.
  
  "I vow not to send a letter home but will inform Grandmother upon my arrival at Highgarden instead. That gives you a moon and a half. If the entire North knows, it is only a matter of time before the capital will hear of your existence. I propose you offer your hand in marriage to my sister and she will bring you the alliance of a prosperous Kingdom." Willas Tyrell looked expectantly at Jon.
  
  Jon didn't hesitate. "I am no longer free to do that. My marriage is all but arranged."
  
  He paused but quickly decided this was a good opportunity to entice House Tyrell to accept an alliance with the North one more time.
  
  "House Stark is my closest kin and a most trusted ally. A betrothal with one of my cousins is as binding to me as a betrothal to myself. I consider House Stark as my house as well. I am half Stark. However these negotiations should take place between my uncle, Eddard Stark and the head of your house."
  
  "Grandmother will be disappointed when she learns that she missed the opportunity to betroth her granddaughter to a Targaryen Prince who most likely will become the new King of the Seven Kingdoms." Willas sighed. A serious look covered his face. "Now that everything is out in the open, am I free still to leave as planned?"
  
  "Of course, Lord Tyrell. I accept the vow you gave earlier. I trust you not to send a raven home to inform your grandmother of my identity after you leave Winterfell and before you arrive at Highgarden. I sincerely hope that our three houses will be bound closely together in future. It has been brought to my attention that your brother is considering becoming a part of my entourage. If that is the case I swear to you that I will never consider him a hostage. If ever our houses should meet on opposite sides of a battlefield, he will be allowed to choose freely which side to support."
  
  "I thank you for that and wish you good fortune in all your endeavours, Prince Jon." Willas Tyrell bowed signalling the end of the interview.
  
  "You're welcome. And in turn I wish you safe travels, Lord Tyrell. Perhaps I'll meet your grandmother before you do and will be able to reveal everything to her myself."
  
  Taking in Willas Tyrell's stricken face, Jon chuckled. "Don't worry. If that is the case, I'll break the news to her gently. I will treat her with all the respect she is due. I am confident we will be allies soon, Lord Tyrell." That last part was spoken once more in a serious tone with a formal expression on Jon's face.
  
  Willas bowed one last time and left the room. Jon hoped he had made the right decision by trusting the grandson of the Queen of Thorns.
  
  The previous night after leaving Robb's room and reviewing the replies to his most urgent messages that had been ready to send out, Jon had felt somewhat overburdened and had visited the Godswood. Loras, who assisted Brienne in taking turns to guard him, had kept watch near the entrance. Jon had prayed fervently to the Old Gods asking for strength and guidance. The substance induced visions had shown a shortcoming in the prophecy and he felt burdened by all the responsibilities he carried.
  
  Since his visit to the Godswood the previous night had not given him the state of mind he had set out to achieve in the Godswood, this evening, after leaving Robb asleep in his bedchamber, he asked a confused guard to supply him with a tent. Accompanied by Loras Tyrell he set out into the woods.
  
  Together they set up the tent in a clearing close to the place where his dragons usually rested when they were not out hunting. As soon as they had a fire going, Loras Tyrell used the opportunity to offer to swear his sword to Jon.
  
  "Are you sure about this, Loras? Your grandmother might not like this." He cautioned the young man kneeling in front of him. "Sit down, Loras. Let us discuss this first."
  
  Loras looked up his face stricken. "Are you turning down my offer? Am I not good enough or is it my house."
  
  "Loras," Jon's expression was solemn. The tone of his voice however expressed honesty and warmth when he answered. "I would be honoured to have you as a member of my Kingsguard."
  
  He paused when he saw Loras' face lit up. "Of course I would accept you. If we come to an agreement, it is for a position as a knight in my Kingsguard. You are more than good enough with your sword, Loras. And I trust you implicitly. But we need to negotiate some terms because of the house you belong to."
  
  "I act on my own. I am my own man, my Prince. It is my sword I am offering, not the allegiance of my house." Loras looked at him, hope shining in his eyes. "I will be loyal to you, Jon, no matter who my family decides to side with eventually."
  
  "I do not doubt your word now, Loras. And I would never ask you to engage in a fight against your kin. I would advise you to stay neutral but would leave the choice up to you. But still, just imagine receiving letters from home pleading you to reconsider. What if Willas should die for whatever reason and you become the heir to Highgarden and the Reach?"
  
  "I would never wish that upon Willas. But if that does happen and my dear brother is no more, there will be no conflict of interest for me. I will pledge the support of the Reach to you, Jon. I firmly believe that is the sensible thing to do."
  
  "You say that now, but I know you love your family, Loras. Could you still serve the forces that harmed some of your kin during to the conflict between our houses? Even if I order each and every soldier singlehandedly not to harm any of your family and give them orders to only contain them, should it come down to a fight, a battle is chaos, Loras. Once the fighting starts, nobody can guarantee that your family members won't be harmed. What if Willas tries to be a hero and fights on the front lines?"
  
  "Let's hope it won't come to a battle. And Jon, Willas won't be fighting on frontlines any time soon. You can't have missed the fact that my brother walks with a bit of a limp. At home he uses a cane. Amongst strangers he is too proud to do that. He prefers to suffer the pain instead of appearing weak in public. After his injury, he stopped practising his jousting and hasn't swung a sword in years. He might oversee a war council but that is about it. Anyway I can't believe my family will be foolish enough to engage you on the battlefield. I do not think you believe that either."
  
  Loras took a deep breath and looked at Jon's inscrutable face. "What are you actually saying, Jon? Do you doubt that I will go back on my word?"
  
  Loras' disappointment was palpable and Jon knew it could turn into anger if he was not very careful with his next words. "I know you are true to your word, Loras. I know you believe in our cause. Please hear me out. I will state you my terms. If you are still willing to become a member of my Kingsguard after hearing them, I will accept your vow. A knighthood will follow on the day I ascend the throne."
  
  Loras looked at him, resolve in his eyes. "Then state your terms, Jon. You are trying my patience."
  
  Jon took a deep breath. "Once you have sworn your sword to me, I vow that we will do everything in our power, exhaust every possibility to avoid open conflict between our houses. If they declare war on us, your position will be temporarily suspended. You will be able to choose to terminate your services to me at that point. However, if you choose to stay with me, you will only be allowed in my presence again after the conflict with your family has been resolved however long that may take. You must accept that. My other Kingsguards will not want you near me. They have my safety and best interest in mind." Jon sighed. "I am trying to be honest here, Loras."
  
  "Those are your terms?" This time it was Loras that kept his face blank face and betrayed nothing.
  
  "One more," Jon said his voice firm despite Loras' change in demeanour. "If your elder brother for one reason or other is no longer amongst the living, you are released of your vow and will agree to become heir of Highgarden. I want you to point that out to your family and hint at your unwavering allegiance to me when you inform them of your decision to swear your sword to me. It might make them think twice before declaring war on house Targaryen."
  
  "What can I reveal to them of your identity should I write this letter?" Loras asked.
  
  "That I am an influential Lord that has Lord Stark's ear and many more allies. That I will play a paramount role in the events to come and you believe me an honourable man worthy of your sword. That you might be the saving grace of your house one day and that they will all be grateful to you for choosing to side with a close ally of House Stark and giving your house a fighting chance to keep their status in the future."
  
  "You do realise that if we take this path, that it will give Grandmother a means to hedge her bets?"
  
  "Leave your grandmother to Lord Stark, Varys, and me. Or perhaps I should include Prince Oberyn in this. For now, let us cross words with her and see who comes out on top of these political games. That is, if you are still willing to go ahead and serve me as a loyal Kingsguard. I will want you to include in your vows that you will never raise your sword against me, even if your family does."
  
  The sound of rustling leaves in the wind and the crackling sounds of a fire were the only things that could be heard now. Both young men looked each other in the eyes with an earnest expression.
  
  Then Loras kneeled and the necessary words were spoken by both.
  
  That night Jon slept inside the warm embrace of his dragons his mind clear and relaxed as he dreamed of Dany. Loras had been left to cope with the fire and the small tent. The young Tyrell had adapted to the North by now. Gone was the flowery coat. The thin garment had been replaced by a beautiful thick woollen coat with an enormous fur collar Loras had bought in Wintertown. He also had fur mittens and a hat with earflaps to go with it. Nobody who saw him now would suspect that he was a southern Lord.
  
  Loras didn't mind being alone in the tent. He was happy. Not only had he been promised a knighthood soon, Jon had encouraged him to write a long letter to Renly without fearing that the content would be read by anyone but the recipient. Jon personally would deliver the sealed message into Prince Renly's hands.
  
  Jon being Jon, had not used Prince Renly's situation to influence Loras into making his decision. But as soon as the formalities were suspended and they had been sitting close to the fire, relaxed and satisfied by the outcome of their discussion, Jon had told him of his plans to help Prince Renly. They were not conditional on whatever Loras decided to do next. And Loras believed Jon. He believed him unconditionally and prayed that he would never have to choose between his house and Jon. If ever he had to, he would choose Jon but he would lose a part of himself.
  
  As soon as Jon had excused himself and gone to spend the night close to his dragons, Loras had started a long letter to Renly. He felt lighter now that he could pour his heart into it. Perhaps there was even the possibility they could meet beyond the Wall. If the army of the dead was on the march, Loras was to go with Jon beyond the Wall and perhaps a meeting could be arranged. Loras slept well that night alone in a tent in the cold North. If only his grandmother could see him now. He was sure she would never understand though.
  
  Jon's next morning at Winterfell, after breaking his fast in company of Arya and Rickon and another training session, was spent writing the rest of his messages to all his allies. Thanks to his nightly excursion, his mind was clearer and he made short work of his correspondence.
  
  He counted the days he intended to spend in the North and compared them with the date that Davos would arrive on Dragonstone. If he timed it right, he could go from the Wall to Pyke and then make a short stop at Dragonstone. If he stayed the full sennight at Winterfell, a sennight visiting the three locations at the Wall, two days flying to Pyke, hopefully only spending one night there, he could arrive at Dragonstone two days after that.
  
  According to his calculations, Davos and Ser Arthur would have arrived on Dragonstone around the time he besieged Pyke. Prince Oberyn would be in King's Landing and would find several scrolls from Jon waiting for him filled with suggestions on how to deal with the erratic behaviour of his older brother, Prince Doran. Perhaps a meeting could be arranged with the Dornish Prince on Dragonstone or the Driftmark?
  
  The words came naturally as he finally wrote the promised missive to Varys detailing the events at the Dreadfort, warning him once more that rumours would probably come to King's Landing from all sides now that most of the North would surely be talking about not much else than his real identity in the coming days. The game was almost up and he promised Varys to do everything to go south as soon as possible. He informed him that in a matter of days he should have the measure of the situation beyond the Wall and hopefully they could finally start making concrete plans.
  
  He also promised to inform Varys of his arrival the very moment he stepped foot on Dragonstone again. He invited the Master of Whispers to attend a council meeting there so he could be present when they discussed the best way to reach to throne room in King's Landing. That is if the man could slip away from King Robert without causing suspicion. He also mentioned the issue with Lord Dayne and Lady Sansa but kept it short, not wanting to burden the Master of Whispers with such a small matter any longer than absolutely necessary.
  
  Things were coming together. Jon could hardly believe it. After years and years of preparations, it could be just a matter of sennights now.
  
  A letter had arrived from Dany that morning. She wrote that the villagers on Dragonstone as well as at the Driftmark were all working feverishly to dye the sails of their ships. Banners were being sown by every female available, young and old alike. They had all volunteered as soon as she had put out the word that she needed assistance to help their Prince display their sigil for the entire realm to see. She told them that the people had never been so happy and everyone wanted to contribute to his cause. Even seven year old boys were helping with the logistics of sorting armour. Their older brothers were carrying them to the craftsmen and back to the ships when they bore the mark of House Targaryen.
  
  Jekken, the blacksmith had dusted off the molds depicting the three headed dragon and after almost twenty years he was once more making metal versions of their sigil. The carpenters were helping him to affix them to the shields. He had taken on several apprentices to remodel the armour of the crew of their ships. On Dragonstone several temporary workshops had been erected. Everyone who had two capable hands was helping transform the neutral fleet into a Targaryen royal armada. Two carpenters were chiselling day and night to change the figureheads of the largest ships. Dany also described how, when it grew dark, a large bonfire was lit on the beach and most of those who had finished their chores for the day gathered there and indulged in a kind of pre-celebration of his reign.
  
  Dany's letter brimmed with excitement and happiness. She had a full schedule now and every three days, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell accompanied her to the Driftmark so she could check the progress there. She had a long list with tasks, counted every piece of armour, every shield and was able to give him a detailed progress report. Sam had given her some pointers on how to do that effectively and she wrote that more than fifty per cent of the sails would be finished by the end of this sennight.
  
  Jon put the letter down and stared through the window but saw nothing of the northern scenery. Instead his thoughts were on the green cliffs of Dragonstone and he imagined standing there beside Dany watching their entire fleet full sail with the large sigils of the three headed dragons fluttering in the wind. A soft knock startled him out of his daydream. Lady Brienne entered the room.
  
  "My Prince, Lord Bolton asks for an audience."
  
  Jon smiled at her formal speech. "Thanks Lady Brienne. Please let him in and then go and find yourself some lunch. I am quite safe here and have my sword with me." He looked pointedly at Ser Domeric's empty scabbard, the man having appeared in the doorway behind her.
  
  "My Prince," she bowed and left the room, closing the door after Domeric Bolton had taken two steps forward.
  
  "My Prince," Domeric Bolton bowed formally when he halted just inside the room.
  
  "Do be seated, Lord Bolton. But since the door is closed and it is just the two of us, would you please call me Jon?"
  
  "I'd be honoured, uh Jon. But then it is only fair you address me as Domeric."
  
  "Gladly. Now what can I do for you, Domeric?"
  
  "I wanted to ask you to put in a good word for me with Lord Stark. I know House Stark will decide my fate soon. I thought perhaps I could propose to actively help you obtain your throne and in return House Bolton could keep the Lordship over the Dreadfort and its position of major bannerman of House Stark."
  
  "How would you do that? I mean, how do you even know which of the men at the Dreadfort you can trust to foreswear the flaying and other vile habits? It has come to my ears that your father and his bannermen still practice 'first night'. I am sorry to put you on the spot like that but it needs to be discussed."
  
  "I assure you, my Prince, I take no offense. I have already been giving it some thought. Several minor Lords have ignored my father and Ramsay and kept their distance from the Dreadfort. I found refuge with some of them so I have a small following to begin with. I would ask every Lord to swear a new oath to me and House Stark. The words would be slightly amended and a sentence would be added wherein they vow to practice neither flaying nor first night and to give me the right to behead them on the spot with their own swords and confiscate their property in case they disobey."
  
  "That would work if they are true to their word. You would also need to be firmly in control so you can reinforce it."
  
  Jon looked at the sigil imprinted on the boiled leather garment Domeric was wearing. "A bit of a conundrum though, foreswearing flaying and still have it as your sigil, proudly displaying it for all to see."
  
  "I, uh, I," Domeric Bolton was taken by surprise and did not have a reply at the ready.
  
  "What if I told you to go to Lord Stark with a different proposal? Of course I would welcome your support for my cause but what if you did so as the founder of a new major house that ruled the bannermen formerly sworn to House Bolton? If the Warden of the North agrees, we could declare House Bolton extinct and you could choose a new name, a new sigil. If I were you, I would tear parts of the Dreadfort down. Remodel it so to speak, so that it looks a bit more uh inviting shall we say? And while you are at it, why not give it another name. Newfort, or something to do with the new name of your House or the sigil you pick."
  
  "I can do that?" Domeric Bolton looked at Jon, his expression betraying his confusion.
  
  "I'm sure we can find a way should that be your wish. But first you should get reinstated as a major bannerman by your Liege Lord and be allowed to keep your castle. For what it is worth, you have my support with that."
  
  "That is worth a lot, my Prince. Robb Stark told me House Stark swore fealty to you."
  
  "But I do not interfere in internal matters of the North, unless the safety of the people or justice demands it." Jon cautioned.
  
  "Nevertheless, your recommendation will carry weight. Thank you, Jon. And if I can be of assistance to your cause, please ask and if it is in my power, I will be glad to step up."
  
  "Let's wait for House Stark to seal the fate of your house. And if you are serious in supporting me, what would be most effective is to send logistical support to the Wall. We will need to transport dragonglass weapons from Eastwatch to Castle Black and to the Free Folk settlement. So if you could lend horses, wagons, perhaps bows, arrows, I don't know for sure. In four days I will leave for the Wall and I will know more specifics. Perhaps I'll know even sooner if a raven arrives with the necessary information."
  
  "I could send most of my father's houseguard, the ones that are currently imprisoned at the Dreadfort to the Wall to help there until the situation is resolved. I would ask for your promise that they will not be forced to say the Night's Watch vows though and will be allowed to return to me afterwards." Domeric offered.
  
  "The fate of these men is for Robb Stark to decide." A pause. Jon swallowed. "Perhaps I might use this opportunity to express my condolences with the loss of your father. No matter what he did, no man deserves to die that way. I am sorry the funeral was kept short."
  
  "It was for the best." Domeric answered then straightened himself as if forcing himself back to the conversation at hand. "I beg you to at least ask for the release of the male servants that are being kept confined as well. I am willing to accompany you to Eastwatch and help you fight the dead. That is, if I am allowed to leave Winterfell." He added hastily
  
  "I'll be certain to do that. However, about you joining me on my travel to Eastwatch, you couldn't. You might arrive only after I had left once more."
  
  At Domeric's questioning look, Jon offered a small smile. "I am flying there. It'll take me half a day at the most to reach Eastwatch."
  
  "Oh, of course. A better means of transport than horses."
  
  "Faster." Jon smile dimmed. He did not correct Domeric Bolton but he felt insulted in Rhaegal's stead to be referred to as means of transport and compared to a horse.
  
  "Is that all?" He asked a bit cooler than before.
  
  Domeric Bolton looked surprised by the change in tone but stood immediately. "Yes, my Prince. I will leave you now."
  
  Jon already regretting his lack of self-restraint stood as well. "Let's go the Great Hall together. I am sure luncheon will be ready by now."
  
  He saw the man relax before his eyes and side by side they walked into the hallway. Lady Brienne's had given over guard duty to Loras, since it was the Tyrell who fell into step with Domeric Bolton following Jon. Soon after, the three of them entered the Great Hall to find that most everyone had already gathered there to partake of luncheon.
  
  By the end of his sennight at Winterfell everyone was aware of his kinship with House Stark and his status as a Targaryen Prince and heir to the throne. After word had spread about his role in the rescue at the Stony Shore but more importantly the rescue of their own Lord Robb at the Dreadfort, Jon could not make four steps without someone bowing to him or vowing him their allegiance. Aside from a small skirmish between a few servants and some guards that Robb Stark had put down with authority, everybody accepted him as an ally of the North and treated him with respect.
  
  His morning trainings had drawn an ever growing audience until once more Robb Stark had stepped in and had limited the number of attendees installing a kind of rotating system so everyone got his chance to see the Prince spar. By the time Jon was set to leave for the Wall, he had become their hero and was proclaimed the best swordsman that had ever lived. Jon was glad Robb took it all in stride and told him jokingly to enjoy it while it lasted since the competition was incapacitated for the time being.
  
  They had grown closer again. Edric, Loras and Jon ended every evening in Robb's bedroom playing silly games or engaging in some other form of entertainment. They sometimes spent the entire evening dreaming up crazy plans for the future. When Robb started to speculate on betrothals however, Jon silently signalled him not to dwell on the subject his eyes resting significantly on Edric. That topic had been the only discord between him and Robb during his stay here. In the end, Robb had admitted Jon was probably right but had added his cousin had better see things set to rights as soon as he was King. His tone had been slightly teasing but Jon had caught his meaning.
  
  Jon, Loras and Edric always left Robb's room after the young man had fallen asleep. Robb usually woke once or twice every night. Uncle Benjen, Loras and Edric were alternating nights and would be alerted by a servant so they could keep Robb company until his fears subsided and he fell asleep once more. This resulted in Robb looking rested and healthy except for his broken hand and bandaged arm. Jon knew from the reports of his uncle though, that appearances were deceiving and Robb was not all right, not by a long shot. Aside from his frequent nightmares, he still got frightened by unexpected movement or noises. It would take some time still for the trauma he had suffered to subside.
  
  Jon himself was back to full strength. His sparring sessions became longer. Arya sometimes complained it took forever before he was ready to take her on. The young girl trained seriously though and Jon saw the potential. When Lady Brienne left Winterfell with him she would be derived of her teacher. He needed to find a capable trainer willing to adjust his lessons to her physique. Perhaps Prince Oberyn would know of someone suitable? The gracious fighting style of the Dornish Prince would suit Arya well. He made a mental note to mention the topic in his next letter to the Dornish Prince.
  
  Welcome news came from Blacktyde. Yara Greyjoy confirmed the day of their joint attack. Jon's itinerary was set for the coming sennight and a half. He made the necessary preparations, took his leave of all his cousins, promised Rickon he would bring a dragonglass sword for him next time he visited and went with Lady Brienne to the woods where Rhaegal and Viserion waited for him. Before taking off, he asked her to show Arya some drills she could perform on her own once Lady Brienne left the Stark's service.
  
  He also warned her to look out for a message from him. Depending on the situation he would find at the Wall, she, Loras and Edric were either to travel to Eastwatch or to depart for White Harbour and sail to Dragonstone. When she complained he would be without a Kingsguard, he explained that even Ser Arthur had needed to reconcile himself with the situation and the knight had guarded Jon faithfully every day since he had been born until he celebrated his seventeenth nameday. If Ser Arthur could adjust to the new circumstances, surely the Lady Brienne could as well. Lady Brienne's jaw had shifted but she had pursed her lips and kept silent.
  
  The dragons were glad to leave the woods surrounding Winterfell. They had adhered to his request to make themselves scarce even though they had been bored as hell. Ghost had been given the choice to stay with his siblings or to hurry to Eastwatch and stay there until the conflict with the dead was resolved. His direwolf had given Jon a long look and had taken off for Eastwatch two days before Jon left.
  
  He looked forward to seeing Gendry again. Arya had ordered him to give the blacksmith many greetings. And would Jon also ask Gendry if he would please, please make a dragonglass dagger for her? Jon had promised to give him the message. He had something different in mind though. He would bring back a long spear for her.
  
  The idea had come to him when he had compared her fighting style with Prince Oberyn's. Arya would probably always stay somewhat shorter than other females and a spear could give her a wider reach. His letter to Prince Oberyn was already on its way. The Prince would receive several letters from him when he arrived at King's Landing. He trusted Varys to see to it that they would all reach the Prince safely with the seals intact.
  
  Rhaegal flew faster than ever. Viserion at times struggled to keep up. It seemed the dragon was glad to have his human back and the rest of the flight, Jon concentrated on merging his mind with his dragon and enjoyed his company.
  
  Soon enough Eastwatch was visible on the horizon. He turned his thoughts to the ones he would see there. Jon had felt somewhat guilty for having left Gendry behind with only Stokeworth and Rykker for company all this time. Perhaps Sandor had visited? Still he would have a lot to tell him. A message could only relate a few facts of Robb's rescue. Jon knew Gendry would have lots of questions. Rhaegal mentally nudged him and Jon once more emptied his mind and let himself relax and enjoy the flight.
  
  Gendry and several Night's Watch recruits welcomed him when he entered the courtyard. Gendry enveloped him in a bear hug with his strong arms. He had clearly been missed by his friend. Stokeworth and Rykker greeted him a bit more reserved aware of their station as guards temporarily assigned to him. It was obvious though that they were relieved and happy that their Prince was back and seemed healthy and well.
  
  Jon scanned the men in attendance. There was not a single hostile face to be seen. He and his dragons were a welcome sight now at the Wall. Everybody had heard the tales from his rescues at the Stony Shore, of his uncle ambushed by dead wights and how he was instrumental in providing them with the necessary tools and support to fight the scary enemy that would soon be coming for all of them.
  
  When Jon got asked for the fifth time whether it was true that he had killed a White Walker with a Valyrian steel sword and that hundreds of wights had just dropped dead for good, he started to think he should send these men of the Night's Watch to King's Landing to spread rumours in his favour to increase his popularity there. At least here they understood the importance of what he was doing and how useful his dragons were.
  
  As soon as Jon had been introduced to the leading men at Eastwatch and a meeting time had been agreed upon, Gendry led Jon to a large wooden shed.
  
  "It is best you see for yourself." Gendry beamed proudly when after opening the door, Jon almost missed a step and his mouth fell open.
  
  "Wow. Gendry, this is amazing. You did all this in just a few sennights?" Crates with arrowheads, spearheads, axe heads, larger crates with daggers and short swords all made with volcanic glass were stashed against the walls in an orderly fashion. Because they ran out of space, more crates were crammed under the large tables where tools and unfinished products were strewn about.
  
  "How much of the material did you use already?" Jon asked him when he found his speech again. Jon had stopped before a crate filled to the brim with spearheads and took out a fistful to examine them at close range.
  
  "Almost the entire shipload. But Jon, didn't you know? A few days ago another ship arrived." Gendry beamed from ear to ear. "As far as I can tell, we will have more dragonglass than we will ever need. I took the liberty to send a few wagons of the raw material to Castle Black with instructions on how to work it. I am sure Donal Noye will be able to make excellent weapons if someone is willing to read the instructions out loud to him."
  
  "Good thinking! Now I will not need to ferry heavy bags to Castle Black. We will only need to get some of them to the Free Folk.
  
  "I already sent word to Sandor about our progress a few days ago and asked whether it was not possible that the Free Folk could come and get some themselves. Perhaps if you ask them, they will come running?"
  
  Jon briefly looked up at Gendry before resuming his inspection of the pieces of dragonglass he had on display in the outstretched palm of his left hand.
  
  "I'll do you one better, Gendry. I am going to fly over there myself in a day or two with a few samples and ask them in person to send a convoy to collect some more. I will convince the garrison commander here to provision the encampment of the Free Folk at Hardhome. We better leave it to Cotter Pyke to determine how to distribute the dragonglass we assign to the Night's Watch amongst the manned castles.
  
  Jon walked among the crates, lifting up several items, testing the balance of a sword, the sharpness of the arrow points and examined their symmetric shapes.
  
  "Gendry this is absolutely beyond imagination. How the hells have you managed all this in such a short time?"
  
  "Come and see us at work tomorrow morning. We start bright and early. Witness with your own eyes how I have a kind of cooperation going on." He said smugly. "The Umbers sent a blacksmith to help the one already here. So, there are two blacksmiths and myself. The three of us supervise an entire regiment of apprentices. The three of us see to the melting and mixing of the material at just the right temperature and also start the cooling process. The apprentices get to work with the cooled down shapes of the smaller items. Each of them has been taught to make one specific item. We take turns supervising them and correct them if necessary. When we've melted enough for the day, the two exempt from supervising duty make the more delicate pieces. The bigger the object, the more difficult to make it well-balanced and strong enough."
  
  "I'll be certain to come and admire you all at work." Jon had returned the items to their respective crates and now stood right before a crate with daggers and was picking some, inspecting them closely up one by one.
  
  "Have you heard from Sandor at all?" He asked absently checking the smooth handle of a dagger.
  
  "Just a short scroll. Sandor is a strange choice for an ambassador, Jon." Gendry shook his head in wonderment. "I can't for the life of me see Clegane travelling between the Free Folk and the Wall, representing your interest and keeping you informed."
  
  "Well, he'll make do. I'll visit him and try to point out that a few more words in a message are not necessarily a bad thing." Jon laughed not concerned at all. "When will you finish up here today? I have much I want to tell you."
  
  Jon had finally taken his eyes of the dragonglass weapons though he still held a dagger and a short sword in his hands. He deliberately kept his face and tone neutral when he remarked, "Arya ordered me to give you her greetings and to ask you if you please, please would make a dragonglass dagger for her."
  
  Jon smiled when he saw Gendry's face lighten up.
  
  "She still remembers me? Wait, Arya said please?" Gendry grinned at Jon.
  
  "How could she forget you? She carries that sword around and treats it as if it is her most prized possession. She tells all who want to hear that my friend is the best blacksmith in the entire realm." Jon mimicked Arya's tone and both men laughed out loud.
  
  "Believe me or not," Jon continued when they had stopped laughing, "She said puh-leeze at least two times in the sentence where she bossed me around to ask you for a dagger. But don't start getting ideas. She said please to me as many times during a conversation about Princes and dragons." Jon's eyes twinkled.
  
  "Of course she can have a dagger. I will make one for her with an imprint of a direwolf." Gendry was quick to give in.
  
  "I promised Rickon a small sword and I should bring something for Robb and Sansa too." Jon looked apologetically at Gendry. "They can be ordinary ones from the crates. I do not want to keep you from your duty any more than necessary."
  
  Gendry huffed playfully, pretending to be offended. "Ordinary ones?! My Lord Prince is not easily satisfied. These are all excellent pieces, tested for strength and checked for balance and designed by yours truly, I'll have you know. I challenge you to find a bad one."
  
  "All right, all right. I give in. I apologize for belittling your work, my most excellent Lord Blacksmith." Jon bowed mock-showing his respect, his eyes twinkling.
  
  "Well, I grant you, none of them have a sigil on them. But I promise to make one for Arya." He looked at Jon. "One dagger is enough?"
  
  "One dagger is what she asked for. I had another thought." Jon told him his idea of the longspear he wanted to gift her and explained his motivations.
  
  "I could make one with spearheads on both sides?" Gendry suggested eagerly. "That would be even more effective. Sam sent me a drawing of such a weapon." Gendry went to a corner where a crate stood that had a lid on it. He lifted it and searched for the right scroll. "Here, see for yourself."
  
  Jon took the scroll and rolled it out. It was a drawing of two short spears that could be combined to one long spear if you screwed the two handles together so they formed a double handle in the middle of the spear's length.
  
  "This would do even better." He studied the design a little closer. "I can imagine it is even more effective than what I had in mind. Perhaps we should teach the women here to fight with this. I could show them some basic moves I learned from."
  
  "A Dornish Prince," Gendry interrupted him his tone once more serious. "I remember that night all too well, Jon."
  
  Jon thought back to their sea voyage and how Gendry had needed to come to terms with the fact that he travelled not only in the company of noble Lords but in the presence of a Prince as well.
  
  "Do you regret making friends with me?" Jon asked him keeping his tone light not willing to let on that Gendry's change of mood affected him.
  
  "Of course not. I was just reminded about the others, you know. It has been some time since I've seen Sam, Edric and Robb. It has been somewhat lonely here. Stokeworth and Rykker are okay but they are not uh, not the same age?" Gendry stammered that last sentence.
  
  "Age has little to do with it, Gendry. I told you before, we share a bond. We made a pact and that is not something to take lightly. It might seem the most normal thing to you because you have not met many men and we all instantly formed an easy friendship, but it is not all that common. I am certain that in the course of your life you will meet lots of people your own age and not get along with them or just stay indifferent acquaintances. We have been lucky to find each other when we did."
  
  Jon put his hand on Gendry's shoulder. "You were not forgotten. We all missed you as well. Edric and Robb expressed the desire to see you soon. They are planning a reunion once we are not threatened by an army of mystical creatures. You should have heard all the hair brained schemes they have come up with for future meetings."
  
  "You saw them all? I thought you were headed for Dragonstone when last I saw you." Gendry frowned.
  
  "I was. I spent almost three sennights there but then something happened." Jon sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He looked around but decided against elaborating here.
  
  "Perhaps we can talk some more tonight before retiring? Do you have your own sleeping quarters or do you share?"
  
  "I share with Rykker and Stokeworth but perhaps you will be given a room of your own? I could join you there?" Gendry asked tentatively.
  
  "I would like that. I'll go find the garrison commander and ask to be assigned a room for a couple of nights with two cots. See you soon, Gendry.
  
  Jon walked outside and was flanked immediately by Stokeworth and Rykker.
  
  "How did you find Dragonstone, my Prince?" They asked falling into step next to him.
  
  "I was pleasantly surprised by it." Jon replied easily. "The castle is unlike any other I have ever seen. The cliffs are true beauties of nature. I was glad to see Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell again and of course, the Princess Daenerys lives there as well now. She arrived the day after I did."
  
  "I would give anything to see the South again." Stokeworth remarked.
  
  "Who knows," Jon answered absently. "Once I am King, anything can happen. After all, you committed no crime. A royal pardon is all you would need to be freed from your vows.
  
  He stopped and looked behind him. Both men stood rooted to the spot, their eyes suspiciously moist. Jon mentally chastised himself. How could he speak so matter of fact about this? How could he forget that these loyal men had spent more than eighteen years in exile, their only crime being that they had been loyal to House Targaryen?
  
  He cleared his throat. "Well, that is the future. We still have to deal with the threat here and now. Better make sure we all survive so you can be recompensed later."
  
  Rykker nodded. Both men were at loss for words. They started walking again, the subject dropped, but Jon saw a spark of energy in both men that hadn't been there before. He vowed to do everything possible to see that all the men stuck at the Wall for mere political reasons would one day be reunited with their homeland and their kin.
  
  That evening, Jon and Gendry didn't attend the men in the common room where the recruits spent most evenings relaxing together. Jon had been given a room with two modest cots and it was decided that Gendry would spend the night in his room the few nights he was here.
  
  While they ate, Jon described Dragonstone to him, told him about his stay there and mentioned his reception at the Driftmark. When they cleared their plates and put them in the hallway for a steward to pick them up without needing to disturb them, they sat on the beds and more delicate subjects were discussed. Jon told him he considered marrying Princess Daenerys. Getting very embarrassed when he confessed he had fallen head over heels in love with her. He asked Gendry to keep it to himself for now. Gendry touched by the trust Jon put him in of course promised to keep silent and wished Jon the best of luck.
  
  A bit later the conversation got more serious. He told Gendry all about Robb's ordeal and held nothing back. He thought it wise that Gendry should be prepared if ever he faced a moody Robb or witnessed him lose his temper over a small matter. The five of them had made a pact to help each other no matter what. Gendry had need of this information to help Robb if it ever became necessary.
  
  "And what will happen to Theon the cockless Kraken?" Gendry asked. He had never met the Ironborn but all the stories he had heard had not endeared him to the man.
  
  "For now he is living in the old Tower and is only allowed to go outside to catch some fresh air for a short period once a day under armed escort. His fate will depend on future relations with his sister Yara Greyjoy who is our ally. I already told you that when I leave the Wall, I will be travelling to Pyke to help her regain her ancestral seat."
  
  "Does that mean he might be returned to his sister and will not face punishment?"
  
  "Gendry, he has been punished severely already. I mentioned that he was tortured by Ramsay Snow. Perhaps I should have added that he has been broken not only physically but mentally as well. He has not admitted to being Theon Greyjoy once. He calls himself Reek. Speaks only in the third person about himself and cowers all the time. He never looks you in the eye and shrinks at the tiniest movement or sound. Perhaps his sister will be the only one who can get him to realise he is Theon Greyjoy instead of Reek, a pet of Ramsay Snow, to be used and abused at his masters behest. He acts like a dog, eating and drinking from a bowl on the ground using only his mouth. I have never seen anything like it. It is a horrifying sight."
  
  "And here I thought you felt sorry just because he is a man without a cock for the rest of his life."
  
  "That also, Gendry. But for now that is not his biggest issue. I hardly think he realises he is missing that part in his current state."
  
  "I wonder how he passes his water." Gendry halted when he saw Jon's strange look. "I am sorry. My mouth often runs away with my thoughts. Forget I mentioned it."
  
  "If we decide to let Theon Greyjoy return to his sister, he will be formally exiled from Westeros. Forbidden to set foot anywhere except on Pyke. If he is captured somewhere else, he will be beheaded without a trial or chance for appeal and his sister will face repercussions still to be determined. He betrayed House Stark. Everything will depend on how Yara Greyjoy will react to her brother's betrayal. If she does not want anything to do with him any longer, Theon Greyjoy will be kept at Winterfell until he is sound of mind enough to choose between a chance to redeem himself at the Wall or the death sentence."
  
  "That I can understand at least." Gendry nodded his head in approval.
  
  "You haven't seen him, Gendry. That makes all the difference. I was all for taking his head for betraying Robb until I saw him and realised what Snow did to him. The time I spent watching him behave like a dog on the road between the Dreadfort and Winterfell changed my mind. Before that, I would never have even contemplated exiling him and letting him live even if it was as a virtual prisoner in his ancestral home with his kin."
  
  "That does make me feel better." Gendry replied. "I was starting to think I was being unreasonable but couldn't deny feeling he needed a harsh and lasting punishment.
  
  "Let's not spend the time we have together talking about Theon Greyjoy." Jon proposed.
  
  "Well, I hesitate to ask, but what will happen to Domeric Bolton? He was a big help in freeing Robb. Without him, perhaps they could have used Robb against you and you would have been forced to negotiate with these vile Boltons."
  
  Jon debated what to tell him. He opted not to reveal Robb's drastic words and the trouble he and Uncle Benjen had gone through to persuade him that the young Lord had played no part in his ordeal. Robb had questioned how instrumental Domeric Bolton could really have been in his rescue when Jon had flown in with two big dragons to save the day. Robb had even accused the Bolton heir of having been in league with Ramsay Snow and his pretending to help had only been a part of one of Ramsay's sick schemes. Jon decided to keep his answer to Gendry brief for now.
  
  "I was able to persuade Robb and my uncle to grant him a trial period to prove himself and those who follow him to be loyal to House Stark and my cause. I asked him to send support to the Wall as a first gesture. We advised him to contemplate changing his sigil but to wait for that until the political situation is more stable."
  
  "A prudent way to say you intend to shove my father from the throne." Gendry remarked.
  
  "I'm sorry, Gendry." Jon was taken aback by Gendry's statement. But once more he had read Gendry wrong. His friend shrugged his shoulders.
  
  "Don't be. I told you a hundred times already, I do not consider that man my father. Hells, I have known Davos Seaworth for no more than six moons and he already is more of a father to me than that Baratheon King will ever be."
  
  "As long as you are willing to share him with me, cousin." Jon smiled. "I have need of him also. I greatly miss him."
  
  "Jon, you cannot claim them all. You have your uncle Benjen. I saw you two together remember? If ever you needed to choose a father..." His voice trailed off.
  
  "You have me there, Gendry. But that doesn't mean I can't vie for the attention of Davos as well. I am sure his heart is big enough to embrace the both of us. I am willing to share him, since you ask so nicely."
  
  "I envy you, Jon. You can fly anywhere anytime and see everyone, however far they are. I can only dream about all the places you have visited this last moon alone."
  
  Jon left his cot and sat next to Gendry. "You will visit Dragonstone and the Driftmark. It will only take you a bit longer to get there but you'll see it eventually. At least I hope you will be coming South with me once we have concluded our business here."
  
  Gendry looked at him and seemed a bit hesitant. "I had set my sight on seeing Winterfell before going south." He confessed his voice no more than a whisper.
  
  "Winterfell is south of here. You could stop there and set sail from White Harbour." Jon encouraged him.
  
  "And bring the presents myself?" Gendry asked a hopeful expression on his face now.
  
  "That spares me a trip." Jon amended his future plans in his head. He yawned.
  
  "Perhaps we should call it a night? I have to get up early tomorrow morning." Gendry offered seeing Jon was tired.
  
  "Yeah, we should since I'll be coming with you. Perhaps you can put me to work?" Jon stood up stretched his arms above his head and bent himself in several directions.
  
  "I am getting stiff from too little movement it seems. Perhaps you need someone to do some heavy lifting?" Jon sat back down on his own cot.
  
  "That won't be a problem. You will be sorry you asked." Gendry warned him.
  
  "Well do your worst." Jon remarked drily. "You have until noon. After luncheon I have a meeting scheduled with the garrison commander and then I intend to visit my ships that are stationed here. See how the crew is holding up."
  
  "Night, Jon," was the only reply Gendry gave him as his friend blew out the candle.
  
  "Night, Gendry." Both young men fell asleep soon after.
  
  Jon had been counting and reorganising the different weapons in the armoury as he called the large barrack and was only halfway through his inventory when Stokeworth came running up stating a message had arrived from the capital. He held it out so Jon could take it. It bore the Stark direwolf and was marked personal for the eyes of the Prince only.
  
  Jon immediately opened it and blanched as he read it. He couldn't believe what it said. Lord Beric Dondarrion burned alive. Edric Storm, a half-brother of Gendry he realised, also burned alive. Several smallfolk and even small children burned alive. All by Stannis Baratheon, Gendry's uncle by blood. You didn't need to have the Targaryen madness to burn people alive. A religious fanatic could do it as well it seemed.
  
  Prince Stannis even refused to obey his brother, his King. They suspected that he was amassing a force around him since he had recalled several bannermen from the capital back to the Stormlands. Varys and Lord Stark were worried what would happen if the King learned of it. Hells, Jon was more worried how Prince Stannis would react when Jon claimed the throne. Stannis was a wildcard and a dangerous opponent. One whose moves could not be predicted in the least.
  
  The only silver lining was that the red priest Thoros of Myr had been able to save all Varys' young birds and the Princess Shireen. What parent would consent to have his daughter burned? Perhaps he should conquer the Stormlands by fire and blood and be done with it. Jon took a deep breath. He needed to calm down before making terrible decisions.
  
  He sealed the scroll and put it in his pocket. When he looked up he noticed several eyes were staring at him.
  
  "Jon, what is it? You look awful." Gendry walked over to him. "At least sit down. I'll pour you a glass of water."
  
  "Gendry, sit down with me for a second will you. This news might affect you as well."
  
  "Shall we leave you, my Prince?" Stokeworth asked. He had brought the scroll and Rykker was present in the workshop as well since he was the one guarding Jon that morning.
  
  "No, you might as well hear this. It concerns Stannis Baratheon." Jon gave them a brief overview of the situation in the Stormlands and tried to soften the blow somewhat for Gendry.
  
  His friend however repeated once more not to have any affinity with the family who never acknowledged him anyway and now he was even gladder they hadn't. "I could have been burned alongside this Edric Storm. I do not feel a kinship with the Baratheon brothers, I call dibs on Davos." Gendry tried to lighten Jon's worries by adding that last statement.
  
  "Share, Gendry, share." Jon said relieved Gendry took the news so well. "Lord Varys and my Uncle, Eddard Stark are trying to find other possible bastards of the King and will do everything in their power to guarantee their safety. I am glad you are so far from the Stormlands for now and that neither the King nor his brother is aware of your existence.
  
  Stokeworth and Rykker needed to be given some explanation. They hadn't known anything about Robert Baratheon siring Gendry.
  
  "Don't tell the others." Gendry ordered. "I do not want to have it known that I am the bastard son and nephew of such cruel, vile men. The Seven Pointed Star has it all wrong. The vile blood is not in the children, it is in the father's committing the sin."
  
  "No words could be truer," Jon affirmed. "That is one of the reforms I intend to instigate. Fathers who sire bastards will be fined and blamed. The children will reap the benefits from the fine and will be given a loving foster home. They will be allowed to choose which name they bear, that of their father or of their mother. No more bastard names." He paused. "Or perhaps I should instate bastard names for the fathers who refuse to pay for the upkeep of the child."
  
  "That won't make you popular, my Prince. Better wait until your Kingdoms are at peace before issuing such radical changes." Rykker remarked then blushed when he realised he had meddled in his Prince's affairs.
  
  "So my advisers told me already. I will not decide this while angry and if anything is instigated it will be in phases. Not everything at once. I'd start with the father being forced to provide for the upkeep of his bastard. But those are matters for the future. I intend to deal with the situation here first. Stokeworth, can you ask the garrison commander where we are to meet this afternoon? I intend to take stock of the situation here and learn what he knows about the collaboration with the encampment at Hardhome."
  
  "I'll see to it, my Prince."
  
  Later that afternoon there was a commotion at the gates. The guards were gathering their weapons ready to defend their position when the dragons came flying overhead and intimidated them to keep their distance from the gate. Jon came running out of the building.
  
  "Stand down everyone, I'll open the gates."
  
  "But, but there is a giant direwolf at the other side, ready to attack us." One guard stammered.
  
  "It will not attack anyone. Ghost has come because I asked him to. He is my direwolf. I have one, just as all the Stark siblings have one. Surely you must have heard about them?" Jon explained while he approached the gate. He had felt Rhaegal's protectiveness and when he had connected with his dragon he had instantly known that Ghost was at the gates.
  
  The men all retreated when he pushed the large gate to open just wide enough for the direwolf to enter. Ghost immediately jumped Jon and gave him his normal enthusiastic rather wet greeting.
  
  The dragons screeched one more time and returned to their spot on the beach where they usually settled down when it was time to rest.
  
  It took some time but eventually the men were convinced that the large white wolf with the red eyes posed no threat. The dragon Prince assured them that his wolf was one more asset in the fight against the dead. Life at Eastwatch resumed its normal pace once more.
  
  That night, Jon abandoned Gendry and spent the night on the beach with his dragons and Ghost. Rhaegal and Viserion needed reassurance that their stay in the North was only temporary and the sooner the creepy enemy was defeated, the sooner they would head back to the green cliffs of Dragonstone to stay. Jon once more persuaded them that he too preferred to live on Dragonstone but that they had a duty to fulfil first.
  
  Jon spent three days at Eastwatch. He was satisfied with all he had witnessed and learned. The garrison commander had a clear strategy and all tasks were assigned to a large force that would march to Hardhome as soon as they got the word that the enemy was certain to strike there. Dragonglass weapons were on their way and he was willing to work together with Sandor, the spokesperson of the Free Folk. If reinforcements from the Northern Houses arrived he would give them the long letter with instructions Jon had left behind.
  
  Jon had met with most of the crew members of his ships. The sailors alternated nights on their vessels and here at Eastwatch. The garrison commander was a clever man. When he had been approached by a delegation and had been requested to provide some accommodations, he had given the sailors free use of some dilapidated barracks, stating they could use them if in return they put them in better shape.
  
  The crewmembers had been happy to oblige. They did not mind having to work a bit for warm accommodations at night. They had been growing increasingly bored anyway. And even though the fleet had arrived with only the minimal crew necessary to navigate the ships, there were fifty ships present so plenty of hands available to have the barracks in a better state in no time. Jon warned the captains it would not be long now before they needed to move the fleet closer to Hardhome.
  
  Before flying to the Free Folk settlement of Mance Rayder, Jon spent some time with Gendry and Ghost. When both were well used to each other, he gently broke the news that Ghost needed to stay with Gendry until Jon returned. Gendry was honoured, Ghost resigned. He accompanied Jon to the beach and looked forlorn when Jon took off.
  
  Interlude 28: More Ravens
  
  To Hoster of House Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident, Lord of Riverrun
  
  Lord Tully,
  
  I still await your response to the generous terms of my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters, will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now. I await your answer with impatience.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Jon Celtigar
  
  We praise the Gods and I am ordered on your uncle's behalf to thank you for Robb Stark's timely rescue. Rumours have increased a hundredfold. Until now however King Robert remains oblivious. Prince Quentyn arrived home and was properly chastised. Both ships carrying resp. Prince Oberyn and your Hand are on schedule. In the Westerlands, the Lannisters have struck gold again. King Robert is furious at Prince Stannis for burning his bastard. He is still debating which measures to take. We are doing our utmost to keep him from outright declaring war on his brother. Princess Shireen will stay in the capital as his ward. We fear for the safety of her mother. Lady Olenna is still stalling. No betrothals to announce as yet. Your uncle and the King seem on very good terms. Preparations for the tournament are coming along. You were right about bet. The horse in question still belongs to King Robert. Good call!
  
  Look forward to meeting you on Dragonstone once more as soon as I receive word of your safe arrival.
  
  Varys, Master of Whisperers of the Seven Kingdoms but only loyal to the true King
  
  To Walder of House Frey, Lord of the Crossing
  
  Lord Frey,
  
  King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, is willing to consider your offer. I formally ask you to send several eligible maidens to King's Landing in three moons time. The King will choose two amongst them to get better acquainted with. If no betrothal ensues, both maidens will be given a noble husband and the King will attend their wedding feasts as the most prominent guest of honour. We expect the annulment to be final in a little over two moons. Your kin should not arrive too long before that date. I will keep you informed. Please send all correspondence in this regard to me and not to the Hand of the King.
  
  Varys,
  
  Member of the Small Council and Master of Whisperers of King Robert I Baratheon
  
  To Jon Celtigar
  
  My Prince,
  
  Thanks for your swift message. We were all much relieved. I took duly note of the changes in your Kingsguard. We will have to discuss particulars next I see you. We are all sorry to see Clegane go. Our preparations here are ongoing. The men are training hard and every able male or female on Dragonstone is contributing to your cause in some fashion. The Princess told me she has kept you briefed on the armour, banners and sails production. I can report another hundred Targaryen loyalists have arrived in King's Landing. A strange report reached our ears. Some Lords of the Stormlands are being called home from the capital. Those loyal to us are stalling their departure and ask us for advice. House Dayne sent word that approximately two hundred men who live near Starfall are travelling to the capital as we speak. They do so under the pretext of attending the tournament. Varys reports ships carrying your Hand and company are on schedule. We are counting the days until your return. Take care on the Iron Islands and stay safe my Prince. Everyone here sends their regards.
  
  Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of the True King's Kingsguard.
  
  P.S. Sam asked me to write to you that the sapling has taken root and is producing new leaves.
  
  To Prince Doran Nymeros of House Martell, Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear
  
  Prince Doran,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Jon Celtigar (destination to Castle Black)
  
  Have urgent, important information to discuss with you personally. Can you come visit my humble abode soon? Please answer on receipt. I sent similar messages to Winterfell and Eastwatch.
  
  Your foster-father,
  
  Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch
  
  Messages forwarded from the Citadel to Samwell Tarly residing on Dragonstone
  
  Lord Tarly, please find enclosed a message from your Lord Father.
  
  Archmaester Ebrose
  
  To Samwell Tarly, apprentice at the Citadel
  
  Son,
  
  I have not heard from you in a while. I am most displeased with you. You could have said your Night's Watch vows before deciding to start your studies. I did not enjoy receiving an unexpected message from the Warden of the North. Your brother would never put me in such a predicament.
  
  Since you have sailed the Narrow Sea and have apparently visited the North, I order you to write me this instant what you know is behind the rumours of dragons existing once more. Do not disappoint me again son. You are not beyond my reach. I can still decide to enforce the other punishment we discussed.
  
  Lord Randyll of House Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill
  
  General of the armies of the Reach
  
  To Mace of House Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Warden of the South
  
  Lord Tyrell,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen
  
  Dany,
  
  Thanks for your letter. It was a joy to read it. It seems you are doing a tremendous job. You will have heard by now that Robb is mostly okay and that I have reached Eastwatch, the Free Folk settlement and Castle Black safely. Things are proceeding according to plan. If all goes well, I plan on returning to Dragonstone a few days after Davos and Ser Arthur arrive. That way I no longer need to content myself with only seeing you in my dreams every night. I have taken a big step closer to our personal goal. Keep faith!
  
  I keep this brief since I want to tell you the rest when I look into your beautiful eyes. I will not be long now. See you soon .
  
  Aegon
  
  To Lady Olenna of House Tyrell
  
  Grandmother,
  
  I have left Winterfell and am currently travelling to Highgarden. I am taking the Kingsroad to the Riverlands and will board a ship at Seagard. Loras is staying in the North for now. You should receive a letter from him soon. I learned a lot of things in the North but nothing I can put into writing. I strongly urge you to consider betrothing Margaery to Lord Robb of House Stark. Things are afoot. House Stark is the safest choice you can make right now. Whatever you decide, do not give her away to House Baratheon. I will tell you more once I reach Highgarden. I wish you good health, Grandmother.
  
  Your grandson,
  
  Willas of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden
  
  To Robert of House Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East
  
  Lord Arryn,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, Kingsguard to the true King
  
  Brother,
  
  Good tidings! We will see each other soon. Lord Stark arranged for permission for our house to visit King's Landing. I will of course stop at Dragonstone first. Eddard Stark pointed out that since Prince Rhaegar has been absolved of the kidnapping and rape, the rivalry between the royal court and the Targaryen loyalists has lost much of its meaning. House Dayne is no longer persona non grata in the capital. Eddard Stark did warn us not to betray you are alive and in Westeros yet.
  
  Count the days my brother. A loyal messenger will deliver this message to your island. I won't be far behind. See you soon. Everyone here at Starfall sends his greetings.
  
  Your loving sister,
  
  Ashara of House Dayne
  
  To Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the East
  
  Lord Lannister,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Robb of House Stark, heir of Winterfell, temporary regent of the North
  
  Son,
  
  Thanks to the Gods and thanks to your cousin for bringing you home safely. I heard you were mostly all right. I wish you a swift recovery. I can allow you to involve Rodrik Cassel in business and household decisions directly connected to Winterfell. As for your duties of Warden of the North, I prefer you would write to me if you are unsure on how to proceed. I trust in you, son. Now you trust in yourself.
  
  I had tea with Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. She impressed me. She is well-mannered, seems intelligent and looks healthy enough to give you many sons. Enclosed I send you a drawing. I ask you to send one of yourself in return. Negotiations are ongoing but things are progressing favourably. She seems worthy of you son. Hope to be in Winterfell in a few moons. Give my regards to your mother and siblings. I will write them soon,
  
  Your father, Eddard of House Stark,
  
  Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North
  
  To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North
  
  Lord Stark,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now .
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Olenna of House Tyrell
  
  Grandmother,
  
  I trust you are well. I will stay in the North for now. I am healthy and happy and have found a noble cause. One day you will be very proud of the choices I am making now. I have sworn my sword to Lord Celtigar. His name is not important. His cause is. For now, all I can tell you is that he is a very influential Lord who has Lord Stark's ear and can count on the friendship of many, many great houses. My alliance with him will go a long way to secure the position of our house for the next generations. Rest assured, despite appearances, I have the best interests of our house in mind. Soon all will be clear. Do not worry about me and keep well, Grandmother.
  
  Your loyal grandson,
  
  Loras of House Tyrell
  
  To Wyman of House Manderly, Lord of White Harbour, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander
  
  Lord Manderly,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters, will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers (seal marked for his eyes only)
  
  Please find enclosed a sealed message for my uncle regarding a private family matter.
  
  To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (seal marked for his eyes only)
  
  Uncle,
  
  Thank you so very much. I just learned the weirwood sapling has taken root and has started to grow new leaves. Soon I will have my own sacred sanctuary on Dragonstone. It means a lot to me, Uncle. I will mention you in my prayers each time I visit this first Targaryen Godswood.
  
  I do not want any misunderstanding between us. The matter I am about to mention is yours to decide and yours alone. As a father, the head of House Stark and Warden of the North you can betroth Sansa to strengthen the position of your House. I only pray you do not betroth Lady Sansa for the sole motivation of advancing my cause. If that is your intent, please consult with me first. If any cousin of mine needs to further my cause, I want to at least share in the responsibility of the decision.
  
  I am aware of the request my friend Edric of House Dayne sent to you. I can only vouch for his worth as a decent human being and a loyal friend who will rise to an influential position in the Seven Kingdoms in my service. I will take no further steps to influence your answer to Lord Dayne's request. I will only add that Lady Sansa is still young and you need not hurry this decision.
  
  Your nephew,
  
  Jon
  
  To Roose of House Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort,
  
  Lord Bolton,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (seal marked for his eyes only)
  
  Lord Stark,
  
  Can you give me a progress report? Myrcella is of an age to marry. When can I expect further assistance in this regard? Or should I ask the dragonrider (R&L's offspring) directly? Perhaps we can meet soon? Us Lannisters always pay our debts. Do you always keep your promises, Lord Hand?
  
  Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the East
  
  To Randyll of House Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill,
  
  Lord Tarly,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Jon Celtigar
  
  Heard attack went well. Rumour mill is working. I do not know whether you heard. The Golden Company conquered the Ironborn in less than half a day! Thanks. Have been approached anonymously for price offer to assist in fight against royal forces in Westeros. Have sent exorbitant offer and reckon nothing will come of it. Will try to find out who sent it. Suspect Euron Greyjoy but am not sure. Perhaps your spies can look into it at your end? Will keep you informed.
  
  Strickland
  
  To Yohn of House Royce, Lord of Runestone,
  
  Lord Royce,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers, King's Landing
  
  Enclosed scroll for Lord X (for his eyes only)
  
  We shipped another batch as agreed: half to Dragonstone, half to Winterfell. Mining activities on the other end have intensified. Our position may be compromised soon. Chances are we will need to close shop. I will send a messenger with more details soon.
  
  Stout
  
  To Leyton of House Hightower, Lord of the Port, Lord of the Hightower, Voice of Oldtown, Defender of the Citadel, Beacon of the South, /em
  
  Lord Hightower,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Gendry at Eastwatch
  
  Jon told me you are doing well at Eastwatch. A seventeen nameday's young boy that is leading an entire workshop kitchen of apprentices, that must be a sight to see. I am sorry to hear the soup was not to your liking. If you cannot make the soup cooler then we are stuck for now. The only thing we learned is that one tenth of vegetables gives the weakest flavour. I'll keep doing research. I heard Edric and Loras might be coming your way soon. I miss you all. Keep well,
  
  Samwell of House Tarly
  
  To Euron of House Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke
  
  Lord Greyjoy,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Jon Celtigar,
  
  No reinforcements spotted. No countermeasures for dragons either. Only minimal forces stationed on Pyke. My uncle is still rumoured to be sailing along the east coast. We will move our forces to Great Wyk the day before the attack. Three ships are disguised as ships belonging to the Golden Company fleet. They will lead the convoy. You will find us hiding in a bay ready to sail for Pyke. See you there the day after the full moon.
  
  Yara of House Greyjoy, future ruler of the Iron Islands
  
  To Jon Celtigar (stamp marked for his eyes only)
  
  Weapons arrived in good order. Rayder is grateful. All quiet here but dead cunts are headed for Eastwatch. Will be waiting for you there. Fucking hope you will come back soon. Forget the conquer all of Westeros plan for now. Fuck this code.
  
  Sandor of the Free Folk
  
  To Jonos of House Bracken, Lord of Stone Hedge
  
  Lord Bracken,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now.
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Prince Oberyn of House Martell
  
  Brother,
  
  My son has finally returned. Pirates released him upon his union to one of their whores. Of course this marriage is null and void. Dorne will have yet another Sand with Martell blood since the cursed woman is pregnant.
  
  King Robert asked my daughter's attendance at court and considers her amongst many others as a candidate to become his new Queen. Your recent messages have made me uncertain. Can you be more specific as to why we should not try to worm ourselves back into power this way? The next King could be half Dornish. Your letters are always full of strong recommendations but without proper motivation. You recent reports have been more frustrating than ever before, brother. I expect a raven with concrete information as soon as you arrive in the capital. Don't delay.
  
  Doran of House Martell,
  
  Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear.
  
  To Tytos of House Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall
  
  Lord Blackwood,
  
  I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now .
  
  Walder of House Frey
  
  Lord of the Crossing
  
  To Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of an errant Prince.
  
  I am about to leave the Free Folk settlement and head for Castle Black. Expect battle at Hardhome in moon and a half at the latest. I will return to Dragonstone to discuss tactics first. Sandor is adapting to his new life. I saw him stoke a fire and I even received a short hug. More to come.
  
  Jon
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon travels on to the Free Folk settlement and Castle Black where he will meet Prince Renly and Jaime Lannister.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Awkward meetings
  Chapter 29: Awkward meetings
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon meets Sandor, Prince Renly and Jaime Lannister to name a few.
  
  In the interlude he visits Greywater Watch once more.
  
  Notes:
  
  Please enjoy a new chapter proofread as always by the ever diligent Ravenousreadr. Thanks my friend.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon received an even warmer welcome at the Free Folk settlement than he had gotten at Eastwatch. Tormund as always reached him first and hugged him within an inch of his life. Jon however was more amazed by the greeting he received from Sandor. The man enveloped him in a brief hug, looking a bit embarrassed but doing it all the same.
  
  "Nice to see you, boy." He said his cheeks slightly red, quickly releasing Jon.
  
  "Nice to see you too, Sandor." Jon reciprocated the greeting and looked him over. Gone was the shabby costume Sandor always wore. He blended in with the Free Folk, wearing white and grey furs. He even carried a bow on his back. At first sight, the only items he had kept from his former attire were his boots and his belt securing his familiar weapons. More importantly, he looked at ease once the initial embarrassment from the greeting had subsided. Jon had gotten used to the grim expression Sandor usually sported but now the man looked... happy.
  
  "My you are looking well. I see I don't have to ask whether you are having second thoughts." Jon voiced his approval.
  
  "Not in a thousand fucking years." Sandor exclaimed. "My wife wants to meet you as well. Perhaps later? She is out hunting right now."
  
  "Of course. I look forward to it." Jon promised him readily.
  
  "Dragonrider, come with me." Tormund apparently jealous of the attention Sandor was getting wormed himself between the two of them. "Mance will want to see you, I am sure." He all but pulled Jon away from the large group that had come out to welcome the dragonrider.
  
  Jon smiled and waved at everyone before following Tormund who led the way with big strides.
  
  "Is this the way to Mance Rayder's tent?" Jon asked perplexed at the direction and speed with which Tormund was leading him away from the encampment.
  
  "No, it isn't. I have to show you something first. He arrived at a tent that stood a bit secluded from the others and motioned for Jon to enter.
  
  A redhead was seated inside with a small baby in her arms. "Meet my newest son, Dragonrider!" Tormund's loud voice startled the small baby and it started to cry.
  
  Tormund just laughed and plucked the baby from his new wife's arms. "Come here son. Not every day a Dragonrider and future southern King comes to visit you." And without further ado he placed the squirming bundle in Jon's arms adding, "That is if you have not become the actual King in the short time you were away."
  
  Jon didn't reply straight away. He awkwardly moved the small baby in a more comfortable position in his arms. "Hey there little one. You shouldn't cry with such fine, strong parents to look after you. You'll be as big as your father in no time."
  
  He rocked the child gently up and down until it stopped crying and its tiny fingers grasped for Jon's curls. Jon lowered his head a bit to give the baby the opportunity to reach one of his locks.
  
  "Still no King yet, just a Prince. Congratulations Tormund and uh."
  
  "Myra, this is Myra. When she fell pregnant we decided to claim each other." Tormund helped Jon out.
  
  "Congratulations, Myra. It is a beautiful boy you have here. And he looks healthy and strong already. What do you call him?" He smiled at her.
  
  "Thank you, Dragonrider." Myra answered keeping her eyes on her child that was trying to pull one of Jon's curls into its mouth now. "He doesn't have a name yet."
  
  Oh, he has just been born then. How many days ago?" Jon started to ask her, untangling his hair from the baby's tiny fist.
  
  Myra opened her mouth to answer but Tormund interrupted them with his loud voice.
  
  "Fine pair of lungs for one born only a sennight ago, don't you think? He thumped Jon on the shoulder and Jon had to steady himself not to startle to baby too much.
  
  "The Free Folk don't name their children before they are around two years old, my friend."
  
  Jon looked up a puzzled look on his face. "How do you refer to him then in conversation or when you need to address him?"
  
  "Easily enough, everybody knows the son of Giantsbane. But the wife," he looked at Myra with a tender look, "she likes to refer to him as Red Junior for now. I kinda like it."
  
  Myra took her eyes of her son to return Tormund's smile.
  
  Jon still holding the baby who was making adorable cooing sounds looked at Tormund for a clue as to what to do next.
  
  Tormund apparently satisfied with the outcome of the visit promptly took his baby son from Jon's arms, put it in his young wife's arms again and motioned to the opening in the tent. "After you, Dragonrider. Our King beyond the Wall awaits you."
  
  Jon smiled apologetically to Myra, stroked the baby's cheek with his thumb one last time and followed Tormund out.
  
  "How come you never told me before?" He asked Tormund wondering about the strange customs of the Free Folk. As far as he knew, Tormund had fucked a lot of women the last time Jon visited but apparently the man had claimed this one now. He wondered what his friend would have done if several had fallen pregnant at once?
  
  "I did not want to pressure the Gods, Southern King. My first wife died in childbirth and I lost the child she carried as well. If I had told you, chances were I would have had to explain that I lost another child. A man avoids that if it is possible." Tormund was very matter of fact about it.
  
  "All right. But didn't you, I mean when you spent all these evenings with Clegane, didn't you uh," Jon was looking for a term that wouldn't sound offensive but Tormund beat him to it.
  
  "I fucked several willing women, Dragonrider. But they knew I would claim Myra if she birthed a living child. Us Free Folk know how to take our pleasure without siring children." He thumped Jon's shoulder again. "Don't you worry your virgin brain. I claimed her and will be faithful to her now we share a living child."
  
  "I am uh," Jon tried to explain but once more Tormund interrupted him.
  
  "If you are not, then you sure as hell do not have a lot of experience. I could set you up, you know. Sandor is happy enough with Ygritte. Just say the word." Tormund thumped his shoulder once more. Jon was sure to have a bruise there come morning.
  
  "No thank you. I know you mean well but I sort of have a girl waiting for me in the South." Jon blushed feeling like a green boy compared to Tormund.
  
  "A Southern woman! I hope she has enough temperament to satisfy you. What a waste." Tormund shook his head. "Sure you don't want to learn the difference. You are not claimed yet if it is just ' sort of '. Tormund's eyes twinkled with mischief.
  
  "Look who is prejudiced now. Have you even met a single southern woman?" Jon countered although he felt his cheeks were still burning red from embarrassment. "Wait until you meet my dragon Princess, then you will be the one green with envy."
  
  "All right, all right, take it easy. I'll wait until I see the two of you, you know, interact?" Tormund's facial expression and accompanying gesture said more than a thousand words.
  
  "I sure as hell hope not," Jon muttered quietly to himself but Tormund must have heard because he guffawed.
  
  "Come on little dragonlover, let's not keep our King waiting any longer than necessary.
  
  His conversation with Mance Rayder had been pretty straightforward. Orell had been present and was visibly relieved to see Jon the Skinchanger return. The warg told him some the latest scouting news. The enemy had split up. Half had retreated further North to where Orell couldn't follow for some reason. Perhaps Jon might want to give it a try? The others were slowly moving south carrying a few rafts. They had only started out two days ago and did not seem in a hurry. At the rate they were travelling it would take them a moon at least if not a moon and a half to reach the place where they planned to fight them. Unless they changed direction for some reason, the army of the dead were headed for Hardhome or Eastwatch and not for the Free Folk Settlement here or Castle Black.
  
  Mance was monitoring the situation at Hardhome closely. Messengers were travelling to and from and Orell guided birds there if he was not scouting. The traps they were setting up on the terrain north of Hardhome should lure the army of the dead towards the location the Free Folk had chosen. It was a large clearing far enough from the Hardhome settlement with the sea on one side, a forest they could set afire on the other side and a large frozen lake ideally placed to keep their frontlines separate from the enemy.
  
  The plan was to lure the enemy on the ice and have the dragons melt the borders so the dead would be trapped on an island of ice. Once they had them cornered, the dead would either fall through the ice when their combined weight would cause the crust of ice to crack or they would be sitting ducks for the dragonglass arrows that would be fired at them and for the dragonfire that Jon's dragons would be reigning on them as he flew patterns over the lake. There was still time to put in place contingency plans. But first they had to be sure that the enemy would stay on course and were indeed headed in the direction of the location they were preparing near Hardhome.
  
  Jon worried about the rafts Orell had mentioned. The wights he had killed before had all seemed mindless puppets. Carrying rafts meant they had some sort of plan. Perhaps the White Walkers could think and strategize? If that was really the case then they would have to be cautious. If the enemy could make plans and they somehow knew they were about to face dragons and dragonglass, perhaps they could come up with countermeasures. Jon would debate some more on that. For now, he made plans with Orell to scout the next morning.
  
  Mance also explained to him all the progress they had made to secure their own settlement. The traps, the concealed ditches and the battle plans should an attack come to them unexpectedly. Two wagons were on their way to Eastwatch to fetch the promised dragonglass weapons. Mance estimated they would be back here in six days.
  
  Jon cautioned them not to wander past the enclosures of the settlement without dragonglass weapons. Then Jon handed the King beyond the Wall a fine dagger of dragonglass that Gendry had custom made especially for Mance. The King beyond the Wall cut himself when he found the edges sharper than expected. Tormund took his own dagger out to compare them. The difference was astounding.
  
  "The newly mined material is far superior to the ones we created from the older pieces we melted down." Jon explained. He turned to Tormund. "You should have taken one from the bag I brought with me from Castle Black the previous time I visited. Don't worry though. Soon a wagonload will arrive with weapons of the same quality Mance just received. You can have your pick then."
  
  Shortly after, Tormund left the tent to return to his new wife. Jon used the opportunity to ask Mance and Orell what the customs were when a couple had a new child.
  
  "I didn't know he was about to become a father. I didn't bring anything. Will he expect a gift?"
  
  "Not necessarily. We do not bring gifts, at least not in the way they do south of the Wall." Mance smiled at Jon to reassure him.
  
  "The Free Folk just watch out for each other. If they see someone struggling, they help out. For example, if the mother gets little sleep because the baby cries a lot, the neighbouring women will visit and tell her what a cute baby she has and over the course of the conversation they will plead to be allowed to keep it company for a while. That way the mother gets the needed rest without losing face. If they need extra clothing, someone might ask them if they would be willing to take some items off their hands that their children no longer need since they've grown out of them and that are just a burden to keep around. Things like that. We are a proud people. Parents want to prove to the community that they can provide for their own offspring."
  
  "So Tormund will not expect anything from me? I do not want to offend him by not giving him the attention he is due." Jon rather liked the ways of the Free Folk. He only asked again because the last thing he wanted to do was offend his friend because of his ignorance.
  
  "Just toast to his new-born son's health each time you have the opportunity. Tell him such a strong son will bring him good luck and that you will follow his progress with interest. That will be appreciated." Orell suggested.
  
  "Thanks Orell." Jon stood up, surmising the interview was at an end. "Could you show me where Sandor Clegane's tent is, please?"
  
  "Of course. I'll walk with you." Orell got up from the ground as well.
  
  "Wait, Jon." Mance rose to his feet and approached him. "Aren't you wondering whether we kept our word and went back to Craster's Keep after you left?"
  
  Jon studied Mance. "I didn't think I needed to." he replied evenly. "But now you have made me curious. Can you tell me if Craster gave you much trouble?"
  
  "We did as you asked, Dragonrider." Mance used the title that Jon had acquired amongst the Free Folk. "We gave the man a choice. Let the women who opted to leave him do so willingly or face our wrath. He reacted as expected. We burned his body afterwards."
  
  "And the women and children?" Jon asked.
  
  "Their rescuers convinced them to come live with us. There were about twenty five small children included and we have allowed them their own tents. Several of the women have already chosen a man. Most of the men who took part in the rescue mission have found a grateful wife. I foresaw this of course and sent ten single men of all ages on your quest. A few of the women are traumatised and I have ordered the men to leave them alone for now. They know better than to disobey me. They are allowed to go near the women who make overtures and leave the others alone. So far, nobody has reported anything untoward. I even let Orell spy on their tent a few times."
  
  "I'm grateful, Mance. What of those who are with child or had little children with them?"
  
  "They were the first ones to find a new husband." Mance looked at him as if he were dumb. "We cherish new life here north of the Wall, Jon Targaryen. You still need to learn a lot about our ways. Children are precious, they are the promise we will endure at least one generation more."
  
  "The women who remain single have been given chores and are being integrated in our community though that means. In a few moons most of them will have become true spearwives. They are all very willing to learn how to defend themselves against men. We will teach them our ways. I hope that when they become aware it is left to them to steal a husband, that it will empower them and eventually they too will be ready to start a family. You see, all in all, I was only too happy to accede to your request."
  
  "Thanks, Mance. No matter your other motives, thanks for saving them when I asked. You are a great ally." Nodding one last time at Mance Rayder Jon left the tent with Orell at his heels.
  
  "Sandor seems to be settled in all right." Jon's statement was voiced more as a question.
  
  Orell was doing his best to navigate between the tents and guide Jon to his destination without having to stop at every tent because everyone vied for the Dragonrider's attention. Despite these distractions, his voice sounded sincere when he complimented Clegane.
  
  "It is amazing how easily he adapted to our ways. He often is the first one to help others out. The children all like his rough way of speaking. They seek him out to learn new words and he never gets offended when they laugh with him. He seems to understand they mean no harm and it is just harmless entertainment for them."
  
  "The newest word they learned is 'twat'." Orell laughed when he added that last bit.
  
  "I met Sandor when I had celebrated no more than ten namedays. I remember being fascinated by his speech patterns." Jon reminisced. Both men exchanged smiles.
  
  "And Ygritte," Jon asked. "What is she like?"
  
  "Ask her yourself" Orell said. "That is our way. We try not to give our opinion of others. Everyone has the right to live his life his own way. That is, as long as you do not harm or hurt others and give as much to the settlement as you take from it. I probably said too much about Clegane already."
  
  "That is an honest and simple way of living in a community. No wonder Sandor likes it so much here."
  
  "Well, here is where I leave you. Sandor's tent is the bigger one on your right. Will I see you around the campfire for supper?" Orell seemed eager to take his leave.
  
  "I think so, unless Sandor has other plans. In that case we will see each other tomorrow morning. Thanks Orell. See you." Jon smiled and walked in the direction of the tent.
  
  Standing in front of the entrance Jon stopped, debating on how to announce himself. You didn't just barge in on a newly formed couple.
  
  "Go on in then." Jon startled when he heard Clegane's rough voice. The man stood behind him a twinkle in his eye.
  
  "Nobody to watch your sorry ass, kid? I could have fucking killed you. Didn't you use to have some damned fine guards? The fucking best in the entire realm at one time?" Sandor mocked him.
  
  "I did. Can't seem to keep some," Jon pushed his finger in Clegane's chest to make his point. "The others can't keep up with me and my dragons."
  
  "I just wanted to take you up on your invitation and get you up to speed with what's been happening south of the Wall. But most of all I wanted to hear you tell me some more details about your first moon in your new life. You are not that great a correspondent."
  
  "And about my contacts with Castle Black and Eastwatch, I reckon you will want to know about those too? Let us get inside then and I will tell you all you want to know. Perhaps not fucking all though, I won't tell you a thing about the actual fucking." Sandor grinned when he pushed a blushing Jon inside so the young man could greet his wife.
  
  The next morning Ygritte and Tormund walked Jon to the spot where his dragons were waiting for him. Jon had spent a nice evening getting to know Sandor's wife. She was pretty even though she was not a great beauty. She had a fiery temperament and seemed to have a genuine soft spot for his friend. They seemed very happy, sat close together and touched each other frequently. Some of the gestures were a bit too intimate for Jon, not yet familiar with the uninhibited ways the Free Folk showed affection in their own homes. Within the confines of their tent anything goes, even if they had visitors, Sandor had explained, enjoying Jon's growing embarrassment when his hand had disappeared under the furs that covered Ygritte's lower body and Jon could imagine where he was rubbing his wife when the fur shifted a bit in a tell-tale spot.
  
  And even if she might have flirted a bit with Jon at times, it was all just innocent admiration for a handsome young man and famed Dragonrider. The Free Folk were free in their expressions and not as prudish as southerners were wont to be. And if Jon was not yet used to their ways, he did like most of them. He could bask in the bit of flirting knowing nothing would come of it since Ygritte was entirely devoted to her new husband. Sandor once or twice gestured Jon just to let her be when she was once more giving him adoring looks. All in all they had spent a lovely evening together that ended with Jon promising Ygritte to show her the dragons up close the next morning.
  
  The dragons had given Ygritte and Tormund a small air show when the tree humans neared the clearing where they were set to depart for their scouting mission. Ygritte waved enthusiastically when Jon finally took off. Jon waved back at the couple that watched him leave standing close together. Jon last image of Sandor was with the man's left arm firmly fixed around Ygritte's slim waist.
  
  Orell would fly to Eastwatch to deliver a message from Jon to Gendry also containing a few words from Mance Rayder for the Garrison Commander. Then he would fly along the coastline to Hardhome to monitor the progress of the defences and traps that were being built. Finally he would fly further north to look for the army that was headed their way. If all went well, Jon would have returned from his mission to the higher North and would come looking for the marching dead as well. They had agreed to look out for each other there.
  
  Rhaegal and Viserion picked up speed and flew north at an amazing pace. Still it was almost dark when they reached the spot Orell had warned him about. Just as in his vision, Jon could not fly over a certain area. The dragons were reluctant to investigate. He could feel their uneasiness. Experiencing their discomfort made Jon somewhat nauseous. They circled around the barrier once. Rhaegal's and Viserion's fire bounced off it. Jon persuaded them to try and fly over it one more time which only succeeded when they flew very high up. Again their dragonfire bounced off of something so they knew for sure the place was protected by a kind of invisible dome. The ominous feeling grew the longer they stayed near it.
  
  Not able to find a way in, they left the place behind and flew south again to find the other half of the wight army, the part that was on the move. Darkness fell fast however and Jon spotting a large cave, decided to rest and resume scouting in the morning. Only now that his heartbeat and that of his dragons was slowing down, did he realise how strange they all had felt and what a terrifying experience it had been. The dragons were glad their ordeal was over.
  
  Their findings confirmed a part of Jon's visions? The area was cordoned off by a magical barrier. The White Walkers had a sanctuary. He had looked for the distinct figure he had seen in his vision but he had not been able to discern anything from the large distance they had been forced to keep. Even his spyglass had not been strong enough to help him spot the detail he had been looking for.
  
  The next morning he quickly completed the last part of his scouting mission. He flew high over the moving enemy and counted the number of White Walkers that accompanied the army of wights. The dead were too numerous so he counted only a fraction of them and then tried to imagine how many times he needed to multiply that number to have a reliable estimate of the amount of wights. He reckoned there were about fifty thousand dead shapes coming towards them, most were human remains but a lot were dead animals. He had never seen anything like it. They were only carrying five large rafts. But more importantly, they were still on course for Hardhome or Eastwatch. He encountered Orell's eagle in the air and together they flew back to the settlement. Rhaegal and Viserion relaxed, glad to be heading south again and often slowed down to play in the air so Orell's eagle could keep up. As a consequence they only reached the Free Folk settlement of Mance Rayder just before dusk.
  
  That night, Jon wondered about the significance of what he had seen. Of course he had known that White Walkers were magical since they could raise the dead and control them, hundreds or even thousands at the same time. But the place he had seen far north was something else. He was sure very strong magic was needed to create such a strong wide barrier. If the enemy stayed there, how could he ever defeat him? Even if he really was this Prince or whatever Who Was Promised, how could he defeat an enemy he could not get close to?
  
  The next day he met briefly with Mance and Tormund one last time before his scheduled departure for Castle Black. Since the attack would almost certainly take place on the east coast, Mance promised to send a large contingent of fighters to Hardhome under the leadership of Tormund Giantsbane. They all were a bit discouraged when they heard how many were coming for them. Jon urged the Free Folk once more to stay alert and be prepared to fend off smaller attacks. The enemy had the numbers and could easily send small raiding parties their way without losing much strength.
  
  When Sandor came out to wave him off, he handed Jon an odd looking pair of mittens. "To keep your hands warm on those fucking flying fire hazards, boy. The wife taught me to knit. It was a concession I needed to make before she was willing to steal me." He admitted a bit self-conscious. "She didn't want a husband who couldn't at least knit simple mittens. This is my third attempt."
  
  Jon looked them over, impressed now, despite the uneven stitches. "You keep amazing me, Sandor. I hear nothing but praise about you from your new people. Thanks, I'll cherish them." He made a show of putting the oversized mittens on.
  
  "For fuck's sake, don't tell Ser Gerold and the others. Them ignorant highborns would never understand." Sandor cheeks had reddened slightly.
  
  "That is their loss, Sandor. I envy you your life here. Good deeds are recognized. Life is simple and straightforward. People care about each other, not about power or money. And if they don't like you, you will know exactly why and what to do about it. Let the knights cherish their way of life and you cherish yours."
  
  Jon tried to mimic the tentative embrace Sandor had given him when he arrived a few days before. He kept it short and stepped aside. "I'll see you soon at Hardhome. Don't let Tormund beat you in the baby department. I expect to be an honorary uncle within twelve moons."
  
  "It won't be by lack of fucking trying." Sandor's smile now was the happiest Jon had ever seen on the man's face. Not even when he had introduced Ygritte to him on his first evening. Jon suspected it might be because they already had a little one on the way. Recalling Sandor and Ygritte sitting closely together on the furs in their tent yesterday, Jon was certain Sandor had made the best decision ever.
  
  Smiling back and touching Sandor's arm one last time, Jon hurried to the clearing where his dragons were waiting for him.
  
  This time, Jon flew low over Castle Black making sure that he was spotted. The large gate opened for him before he reached it. Edd Tollet came hurrying over.
  
  "Welcome, my Prince. We have been expecting you. I must warn you though. Your identity is known by all now. Cotter Pyke has told everyone that you are here as protector of the realm and that the Watch remains neutral and has no interest in any future plans you might have."
  
  "Oh my. What about Prince Renly?" Jon almost regretted coming if it were not for the messages he expected to have arrived here for him and the fact that he was also here to make sure that the Night's Watch took up their role as protector of the Wall and helped the Free Folk defeat the dead that were coming for them.
  
  "He is taking it better than Jaime Lannister." Edd Tollet answered.
  
  Jon halted his steps and moved his right hand to the pommel of his sword. "Is it safe for me to walk in there do you think?" He gestured towards the inner courtyard.
  
  "Cotter Pyke has the men firmly in control. Oh, you mean Jaime Lannister. I'm sorry, my Prince. I might have given you the wrong impression. Jaime Lannister is full of remorse. He doesn't mean you harm. Quite the opposite, he feels he failed your house and would like to get the chance to make amends."
  
  "Mmmh, I don't know what to think about that. I will remain vigilant. I plan on staying only one or two nights at the most. Just enough time to inform your Lord Commander of the state of affairs I witnessed at Eastwatch a few days ago and discuss the latest movements of the enemy. I hope he will be willing to share some information about the improved defences here and coordinate the support the other castles can lend to the coming attack. I will also need to dedicate some time to read and reply to the messages that will have gathered here for me. Perhaps I might even help warm the ground so it is easier to dig more ditches around the perimeter of Castle Black." Jon smiled hesitantly.
  
  "I would like to be present when you brief our Lord Commander about the movements of the army of the dead. I'll be certain to ask his permission." Edd Tollet promised him.
  
  By now they had crossed the courtyard and Jon looked at the building where his uncle had lived so many years. He sighed. "I reckon there is nobody living in his quarters yet?"
  
  "There is a temporary Maester on loan from one of the Northern Lords and the healer of Mole's Town is staying here as well at the moment. But no, nobody lives in his quarters for the moment. You can visit them if you want. Nothing has been touched. Ask the steward to unlock the doors for you if you so desire."
  
  "Thanks. Perhaps I will. I don't know yet. Is the room available where I slept before?"
  
  "Yes, we have seen to it. I'll ask one of the exiled Targaryen loyalists to assist you. Joran Edgerton probably. I'll ask the Lord Commander if he can be assigned to your services for a day or two.
  
  "Can you ask when Lord Commander Pyke is willing to meet with me? I'll be in my room for now. I'll wait for an escort to wander around the castle just to be sure. I will need to get accustomed to being Aegon Targaryen here at Castle Black. Everything was simpler when I was just Lord Celtigar."
  
  "Not strictly true." Edd Tollet countered. "Remember once word got out that you were a dragonrider? I can still picture you fleeing Castle Black."
  
  "Not my finest hour," Jon admitted. He had arrived at the door of his room. "Thanks Edd, I appreciate all you are doing for me."
  
  "No thanks needed, my Prince. I owe you my life." Edd left the hallway and headed back to the exit.
  
  Joran Edgerton turned out to be a simple man. He had never met Rhaegar Targaryen personally but his house had always been loyal. He had been sentenced to the Wall because his family had not been able to pay the taxes that were due after the Rebellion. He had been sold to the Wall by his own kin so to speak. He had been worth two years of taxes.
  
  The man however was an excellent steward. He had brought Jon a hot supper and all the messages that had arrived for him. Most of them turned out to be copies his allies had send to several locations so he would be sure to get them. The most information he derived from the scroll Varys had sent him. Jon was glad that Prince Quentyn had received some form of punishment. Still the man better not come close to Princess Daenerys ever again. Jon would never allow him to be present at court once he was King. He wondered if they should bypass Doran Martell and open secret negotiations with Princess Arianne. He would ask Prince Oberyn. Perhaps they could arrange a meeting when Jon was back on Dragonstone.
  
  The situation in the Stormlands grew more worrisome by the day. It seemed that Prince Stannis was trying to call his banners. Jon wondered what his purpose for that could be. Was he planning a rebellion and intended to seize the throne from his own brother? Would he go north as the Lady Melisandre had asked him to do initially? As far as Jon knew that was no longer the case.
  
  According to a second scroll from Varys, Thoros of Myr had talked with the Red Priestess about the Prince That Was Promised. That was a strange tale. First Melisandre had been sure Prince Stannis was the chosen one. Now according to Thoros of Myr she prayed that her own child sired by Stannis would turn out to be the One That Was Promised. Visions were not always straightforward. Howland Reed often warned him of the dangers of either wrongly interpreting the visions, or of working towards making them come true so they actually became self-fulfilling prophesies.
  
  He would gladly give the honour to someone else but his own visions had been crystal clear. Call him whatever you like That Was Promised, but the Gods had shown Jon that it would be up to him to defeat the ultimate White Walker.
  
  He knew from his vision that the battle they were about to fight close to Hardhome would not be the final one. Things were never easy for him it seemed. It looked like it would still be a while before he could live in peace and find some kind of normal existence. He formulated the message for Lady Brienne, summoning her, Loras and Edric to Eastwatch in a sennight. At least Gendry would be glad with the company. Jon wrote he would be well in time to help prepare last of the traps to lure the dead to the large lake where they had chosen to take them on.
  
  The scroll from Howland Reed made him slightly uneasy. It seemed the Lord of Greywater Watch had yet had another important vision, one he wanted to discuss with Jon in private. Perhaps he had seen what Jon had seen? Or perhaps he had seen something regarding his dilemma with Dany or his heirs? Jon sent his reply immediately. If he was honest, he really wanted to get Lord Reed's advice and tutelage. Lord Reed summons gave him an excuse to visit Greywater Watch and ask him for help with his limited greenseeing ability. And if it so happened that his foster-father had seen something embarrassing, he would just have to deal with that. His mind was made up. After helping Yara Greyjoy take possession of Pyke, he would fly to Greywater Watch before heading to Dragonstone.
  
  It was dark when he finished reading his last messages. Uncle Benjen wrote that Robb was doing better. He was starting to open up and almost every day Uncle Benjen learned new details of what had happened to him at the Dreadfort. It was upon Maester Luwin's insistence that Uncle Benjen had started to urge Robb to talk about his experiences. According to Winterfell's Maester, that was the best way for Robb to get better. Face your troubles bit by bit and conquer them. The Maester had warned his uncle to make sure to do it gradually though. Uncle Benjen was proud to report that Robb's nightmares were becoming less frequent. The dark circles under his eyes were a thing of the past. He still startled easily though but they were working around that. Everyone knew that it was best that Robb Stark always saw them first before they spoke or made a noise.
  
  Jon fell almost asleep reading the latest scroll from Yara Greyjoy describing the final arrangements for the attack and decided to retire. He gathered all the messages and put them in his backpack. He fell asleep almost before his head hit the furs.
  
  Breakfast in the common hall had proved interesting. Cotter Pyke had invited him to sit at the high table. Jon gathered everyone present knew exactly how many spoons of porridge he had eaten. He was glad when the meal was over and he could follow the Lord Commander to his quarters. There they exchanged the necessary information.
  
  Jon tried to focus during the longwinded report of the current strength of the Night's Watch at each of the forts. After Gendry had left for Eastwatch, Donal Noye, the blacksmith had returned to his armoury duties. The stern man had almost seemed happy upon receiving a wagonload of newly mined volcanic glass and the fact that he had been allowed to return to his forge. Now he was working hard, more motivated than ever and was turning the raw material into the much coveted weapons. Jon's only contribution to the conversation was to tell him that Gendry had several crates of newly forged weapons set aside for the other manned castles along the Wall and awaited the Lord Commander's wagons and orders so he could distribute them as Pyke would see fit. After that Cotter Pyke just droned on, this time enumerating all the offers of support from the Northern Lords that came in almost daily now.
  
  When Jon figured the Commander's monologue was finally winding down, Cotter Pyke addressed his safety at Castle Black.
  
  "Most of the men are convinced that you are our saviour. Edd Tollet certainly did his best to make sure they know how powerful your dragons are. But it only takes one fanatic Baratheon supporter to put your life in danger. Be vigilant, my Prince. Never walk about alone and have your sword with you at all times. I am told you are virtually unbeatable with it."
  
  "I learned from the best." Jon stated simply. "However, every man can be defeated. Certainly when he lets his guard down, is tricked or ambushed or faces too many opponents at once. I'll not venture out after dark and will stay vigilant and see that I am escorted at all times."
  
  "Then there is the matter of Prince Renly." Cotter Pyke warned him.
  
  "May I be allowed to talk to him? It might benefit both parties" Jon suggested.
  
  "I'll see to it that you can meet on neutral ground, both unarmed. We will guard the door." The Lord Commander was quick to give his assent.
  
  "I'd prefer to do that sooner rather than later." Jon remarked. He was actually very curious to meet the brother of King Robert and Prince Stannis. Perhaps one out of three would be a decent human being? Jon was inclined to think so since Loras likes the Prince very much. He would also be able to keep his promise and hand over the rather thick scroll Loras had entrusted him with.
  
  "Would you be willing to do Jaime Lannister the same courtesy?" Jon startled when Cotter Pyke asked him that.
  
  "I can't complain about his dedication to the Night's Watch." The Lord Commander defended Lannister's request. "He is making himself useful training the recruits who have mastered the basic moves of swordplay. Perhaps you should witness a session without his knowledge. You'll understand what I mean."
  
  "If he wants to speak to me, I guess I owe him that. I ambushed him the last time I was here and he answered my questions. I might as well answer his." Jon was not proud of the conversation he had forced upon Jamie Lannister the only time they had ever met. Even if only half of Cotter Pyke's praise of him was earned, then Jaime Lannister had come around rather quickly. Jon still remembered the sullen man in the dark cell and the disdain, no the hatred he had felt for him. Jaime Lannister had more than once crossed his mind, the most conflicting feelings warring within him whenever he considered all the life choices the man had made. He realised he had missed something Cotter Pyke had been saying.
  
  "Sorry, Lord Commander. I was wool-gathering. Would you mind repeating your last sentence?"
  
  "I asked whether you would mind holding these conversations in the former quarters of Maester Aemon? It is the best place I can think of where you will not be disturbed and where I can conceal the identity of your visitors to the other recruits. I can guarantee you will have absolute discretion there."
  
  The Lord Commander waited patiently for Jon to make his decision known. When Jon agreed be it hesitantly, Cotter Pyke promised to send both men over one by one as soon as they had been tracked down.
  
  And so it happened that Jon found himself walking with Edgerton to the Tower where he had spent so many hours when he was twelve. This time it would not be a kind elderly relative he would meet there. Jon steeled himself for these two unconventional meetings.
  
  "What you are actually promising me sounds too good to be true." Prince Renly sat opposite Jon. Only a small table separated both men. The Baratheon Prince had become a bit more talkative after Jon had told him about his befriending Loras Tyrell and handing him the large scroll with the heavy seal. He was not totally won over yet.
  
  "It is and it is not." Jon replied honestly. "You would be reinstated as Lord of Storm's End but you would be forced to proclaim your bastard nephew Gendry, who I will legalise as a trueborn Baratheon, as your heir. If you will not do so willingly, I will issue a royal decree that overrules your wishes on the matter."
  
  "I will not sire children anyway. With Edric dead, it might be the only option. And he is the son of the King if you speak true. I am still waiting for the catch though."
  
  The Prince sat upright in the chair. He had not donned the black attire all the men of the Watch wore. Cotter Pyke had told Jon earlier that the Prince had declined to adhere to the same rules as the other recruits. The Prince also refused to participate in trainings or carry out any duties and insisted on being addressed by his title. He always appealed to his special status as royal liaison.
  
  Jon sighed. He had explained everything already. What more could he say to convince Prince Renly that there was no catch? He had told him that his elder brother would be deposed as King and as punishment for his misdeeds against House Targaryen, Robert Baratheon would lose his birthright. What other punishments would befall his brother Robert would depend on how he acted when faced with a trueborn heir to the Iron throne. His brother, Prince Stannis' life would be forfeit once he stood trial and was convicted of burning several innocent smallfolk and nobles.
  
  "You will have to swear fealty to me as your true King before witnesses. That is all Prince Renly. You have committed no crime. Loras Tyrell was not raped. He loves you as much as you love him. As I told you before, Loras swore his sword to me and will be a knight in my Kingsguard. He has also become a friend. In my Kingdoms, I will condone couplings between consenting adults never mind the gender. I do not know what else to tell you."
  
  "And I would be free to leave the Wall as soon as you are crowned King?" The Prince still doubted his good fortune.
  
  "You would be. I can't promise you a position on my small council or some other position of power yet. I will need to get to know your strengths and preferences. But feel free to discuss possibilities with me once you know what you want and both our circumstances have changed enough for such a topic to become relevant." Jon kept his tone respectful and his expression neutral.
  
  His first impression of the Prince was not all that favourable. He wondered what qualities Loras had found to admire in him. To Jon, the man seemed indolent. How could you respect a man not inclined to make an effort, a man who just sat around and let others take care of everything? Mayhap his impression of the Baratheon Prince would improve upon further acquaintance. Jon did not have high hopes though.
  
  "For now, I just want to return to the Stormlands. I can't believe Edric Storm was killed. I had grown to like the boy. Not like that." He added hastily before Jon could misconstrue his words. "He was still a kid. He looked a lot like Robert, like family." Prince Renly looked a bit forlorn.
  
  "Gendry, I am told is a young Robert lookalike. I am sure you will like him once you get to know him. He is humble, kind and loyal. He must be around my age. I realise he is no replacement for Edric, but at least you have another decent relative who shares your blood." Jon gave Prince Renly this information trying to get the Prince to warm up to the existence of Gendry. He had his doubts now that his honest hard working loyal friend could strike up a friendship with this snobbish Prince.
  
  "He is a bastard-born though." Prince Renly commented.
  
  "What of it?" Jon asked making an effort not to sound offended. "Can a child really be held responsible for whether his parents were married or not. You of all people should realise that real life and religious rules don't always match. I just came back from the true North, I mean the lands north of the Wall. Nobody gets married there. The children are happy, their parents love them and everyone helps and supports his neighbours to survive the harsh environment of lands beyond the Wall where it is practically always winter."
  
  Jon saw he had Prince Renly's attention now and continued. "Habits, customs, rules are just tools to help a society to live in some sort of harmony. Trueborn and bastard are just two definitions, two words that have no impact on the intelligence or abilities of a human being. Do not tell me you with your sexual inclinations haven't questioned the narrow minded views of the Seven Pointed Star at some point in your life."
  
  "So according to you bastards have as much worth as noble born? The Prince had frowned upon hearing Jon's last comment.
  
  "If they get the same chances, the same opportunities to learn, I believe so. Not all noble born children succeed in learning to read when at the same time a lowly servants can master the skill without much effort. But we are digressing. I believe I was trying to convince you not to look down on Gendry, Robert's natural son because of the circumstance of his birth. He is part of my entourage. I consider him a dear friend and he will be legalised soon enough. Just get to know him and we'll talk again later."
  
  "What happens if you leave here and get killed before you are crowned and can set me free?" Prince Renly changed the subject back to his own interests.
  
  "Better pray that doesn't happen." Jon gave him a wan smile. "I have no intention of letting myself get killed anytime soon. You could raise my chances by convincing the Baratheon supporters here at the Wall that I have your best interests in mind."
  
  "Can I assure them that you will not burn Storm's End to the ground?"
  
  "I'll do my utmost to prevent that. A lot will depend on your brother's deeds. "Most likely, Prince Stannis' men will stand down at the first burst of dragonfire. We took the Dreadfort in less time than it takes to roast a pig. And the ugly thing is still standing with barely a scratch on its walls. I promise you, I am not set on destroying your home. It looks more likely that your brother will bring the fight to the capital. There are rumours that he is intending to lay siege to King's Landing and claim the iron throne for himself. He has called his banners for some reason."
  
  "One last question." Prince Renly demanded. He didn't see fit to respond to Jon's last statement.
  
  Jon sighed. The Baratheon Prince was driving a hard bargain. "And that is?"
  
  "You won't ask me to take up arms against my brothers?" Renly Baratheon's tone indicated this was non-negotiable.
  
  "I advise you to stay at the Wall until matters are resolved so you can claim neutrality. Once I am King, I will want a public kneeling from you. The realm needs to see you swear fealty to me as the true King before I proclaim you the Lord of Storm's End again."
  
  "Fair enough. I wish you good luck. You will need it. Remember "Ours is the Fury" are the words both my brothers live by." Prince Renly cautioned him.
  
  "I thank you, Prince Renly. I hope next time we meet, it will be under better circumstances." Jon stood to show the Prince out. This talk had been tougher than he had anticipated. "Ours is the Fury" applied to all three of the Baratheon brothers apparently.
  
  When Renly opened the door, Edgerton handed him his sword. "Shall I send for Jaime Lannister, my Prince?"
  
  "Just give me a moment to gather my thoughts. Or, perhaps I could go to the training yard for a quick sparring session. That will clear my mind a bit." Jon accepted his sword and fastened the belt around his waist.
  
  "Are you up to the challenge, or can you recommend someone else?" He addressed Joran Edgerton when he stepped into the hallway.
  
  "I challenge you."
  
  Jon turned around and stood face to face with Jaime Lannister.
  
  "I heard you were willing to speak to me." Jaime Lannister's expression betrayed nothing at all. Jon didn't see any sign of the remorseful behaviour that Cotter Pyke had described to him. Jaime Lannister looked like a cocky spoiled brat as he stood there waiting to see how Jon would respond. The only thing out of place was the black attire instead of the expensive red golden outfit that went with the attitude.
  
  "I was trained by the Sword of the Morning." Jon answered finally not really knowing what the best course of action was here.
  
  "I was too." Jaime responded. Then his face softened. "We might both benefit from sparring with a skilled adversary."
  
  "I can't always find suitable partners." Jon admitted, unsure of Lannister's intent.
  
  "My Prince," Edgerton intervened, apparently of the opinion Jon's decision had already been made. "Are you sure this is wise?"
  
  "We will fight with dulled swords and I urge the Prince to put on some protective gear. I give you my word that I will fight fair and adhere to the rules of a training session. It is not a fight to the death, Edgerton, we just intend to spar. At the most, both of us will get a few bruises." Jaime Lannister was quick to defend his chances to spar with Prince Aegon.
  
  "Your word, Lannister?" Edgerton stepped between Jaime and his Prince. Jon couldn't see his face but was sure that the man was using his most stern expression to intimidate his sworn brother.
  
  Lannister lost his patience. "For fuck's sake, Edgerton. Haven't I proved my worth yet? I solemnly vow to fight fair and to consider it a training session and nothing more. There you have it. Do not think I will go easy on you the next time I supervise your training in the courtyard."
  
  "He is just looking out for me. "Jon intervened. He had made up his mind. "Lannister, just give me time to put on some protective gear. I'll meet you in the courtyard."
  
  "Let's go, Edgerton." Jon gave Jaime a curt nod and quickly left the tower where the Maester had his quarters. He crossed the yard with big strides, heading for his own room, Edgerton at his heels.
  
  When Jon entered the courtyard, Jaime Lannister was already there. Jon handed the scabbard containing Blackfyre to Edgerton and looked through the stash of training swords for one that resembled his own sword and had the right balance. He tried several swords but was still undecided.
  
  Jaime Lannister didn't comment but when he saw Jon had tried them all and still had not chosen one, he approached.
  
  "Donal Noye might have what you are looking for in the armoury. Perhaps I could have a look at Blackfyre while you make a trip to the armoury?"
  
  Jon hesitated, still undecided on how to handle the man. Deciding to grant him the same courtesy he normally would give a skilled sparring partner, he nodded his assent to Edgerton. The armoury was just around the corner. Jon found Donal Noye in the backroom working on some dragonglass daggers. He smiled remembering Gendry standing in the exact same spot the last time he was there.
  
  "My Prince," the blacksmith and armourer of Castle Black bowed respectfully. "I heard of your arrival. How are things?"
  
  "All is well. Gendry sends you his greetings. I see you are familiar with the dragonglass now?"
  
  "Much finer material than that old shit." Noticing Jon study some training swords and trying out a few, he asked, "Need something?"
  
  "I need to borrow a decent training sword, one that bears a resemblance to my sword Blackfyre. I forgot to bring my own training sword. I must have left it at Winterfell."
  
  Donal Noye went to the other side of the room and lifted the lid of a crate. After rummaging through its content, he approached Jon holding out three swords. "Try these. In my opinion at least one of them might suit you."
  
  Jon tried all three, a smile lighting his features. "Excellent. Even though all three are different, they suit me. How did you know?"
  
  The man might use few words, but Gendry had been right. He knew his trade.
  
  "It is my job to know." He pointed at one the swords. "Gendry repaired that one."
  
  "Thanks, I'll give these two a try. I'll make sure to have them returned after my sparring session with Jaime Lannister." Jon smiled at Noye and turned toward the exit.
  
  "You are taking on Lannister? Wait, I am coming along. Wouldn't want to miss that. That man knows how to handle a sword. Good luck my Prince. You will need it."
  
  When Jon returned at the training yard, Jaime was sitting on a low wall talking quietly to Edgerton. Blackfyre was back in its scabbard, safely in Edgerton's custody.
  
  "Ready when you are, Lannister." Jon called out carrying two swords with him.
  
  Jaime arched one eyebrow. "Two swords? Are you serious?"
  
  "Getting second thoughts?" Jon remarked keeping a serious expression. If it had been anyone else, he would have used a teasing tone, perhaps accompanied by a challenging smile. He needed to keep his wits together. If he was not careful he might grow to like the man who pushed Bran.
  
  "We will start with one sword and shield and see how that goes. Perhaps later we might consider sparring with two swords?" He suggested.
  
  "I might be a bit rusty at that." Jaime admitted. "Haven't sparred with two swords in a very long time."
  
  "Are you two going to fight or are you just going to stand yapping like fishwives." Donal Noye interrupted them. "I have to go back to my forge when it is still light outside."
  
  Jon nodded at Jaime who took up his sword and a shield. Jon did the same and took his stance.
  
  Both men circled each other, carefully eying every move the other made. Jaime Lannister was the first to attack. Jon parried easily. They repeated that a few times, using this reprieve to warm up their muscles. Jon was the one who indicated it was time to take the fight to another level. He stepped forward and started the first serious attack. Jaime despite being forced to give up ground thwarted each stroke without breaking a sweat. Jon tried to lull him with the same combination a few times before striking at Jaime's weaker side with clear intent. The former knight however was fast enough to hold off the more forceful swing and pushed Jon backwards with a movement of his shield.
  
  Both men took their stance and started again. This time it was Jaime Lannister who attacked first and forced Jon on the defensive. Jon changed tactics. He used every trick he had learned to dodge and deflect his opponent's strikes. He only countered the strikes he couldn't avoid. He used the space of the courtyard to his advantage. At one time he ducked, rolled sideways over his shoulder and landed back on his feet ready to strike at Lannister's back. The knight somehow managed to jump sideways and turn around to face Jon once more and the fight continued.
  
  They had been at it for some time when Jaime Lannister finally got the first strike in. It happened when an attack of Jon failed and he wasn't fast enough to deflect Jaime's counter. Jon acknowledged his defeat with a nod and both men immediately took up their positions once more.
  
  This time Jon was determined to get the upper hand. Using his shield more instead of dodging the strokes, he exchanged blow for blow keeping close to Jaime Lannister at all times. He saw his opening when his opponent ducked a swing and gave him a low blow and a push with his shield. It was a move that he had learned from Sandor. Jaime lost his balance for a fraction of a moment and needed to place his foot sideways to correct his stance. That was enough for Jon to get him on the defensive. Jon attacked ferociously combining technique, speed and force. He didn't use his shield since Jaime Lannister had trouble parrying and concentrated on his stroke selection. Soon enough Jon found the final opening. This time he blocked Jaime's sword with his shield as he trust his own sword under Jaime's chin before the man could raise his shield. "Yield."
  
  Jaime, slightly out of breath, lowered shield and sword. "I yield. Well fought. I recognised several combinations I had forgotten about. He trained you well."
  
  "How about we just practice our technique with the two swords? No real combat, just one of us going through his exercises, while the other just accommodates and parries and then we switch roles." Jon proposed somewhat out of breath.
  
  "I'm sure you are just indulging me now, but by all means. I told you I was rusty." Jamie too was using the short reprieve to recuperate a bit.
  
  They ignored the men that had slowly gathered in the courtyard to watch their fight. Both picked up a second sword and left their shields against the Wall. Even though it was not a real fight, their audience was well entertained. It was not often such superior swordsmanship could be witnessed at the Wall. When someone made that remark to Donal Noye, the blacksmith countered.
  
  "Not only a rare thing at the Wall. Few men in the realm fight like that. Enjoy it while you can." He turned on his heels and went back to the armoury. Even at the grander tournaments in the capital that he had attended in his former life, he had not often seen something akin to what he had witnessed out there. And that was only a training session. Imagine if these two fought with their lives at stake.
  
  "Now did I earn my talk?" Jaime Lannister leaned against the Wall sweating profusely and breathing heavily.
  
  Jon was not doing much better. He looked a Jaime Lannister with a lot more respect now. "Give me a chance to clean up a bit. I'll have a pitcher of ale at the ready. You know where to find me." He turned around and headed for his room.
  
  "Well fought, my Prince." Joran Edgerton remarked. "That was the first time someone got the better of him since he arrived here."
  
  "Mmmh." Jon offered no further comment. Jaime Lannister was a conundrum. How could he reconcile the man who pushed Bran from the Tower and fucked his sister with the young knight who saved a city without getting the credit he was due and was one of the best swordfighters he had ever met? He wondered how their talk would go."
  
  He was back in his great-great-uncle's former quarters long before Jaime Lannister showed up. He paced around the room, looking at several objects his uncle had cherished while he lived here. Jon preferred to picture his great-great-uncle as he had been when he first visited and not the man on death's door of his last visit. The edges of his mouth curled slightly upwards when he recalled how he had first been presented with Blackfyre and his eyes wandered to the tile with the chipped corner that marked the secret hiding place. A sudden thought struck him and he quickly warned Edgerton who stood guard in the hallway not to let Jaime enter before he received permission.
  
  He closed the door once more and kneeled on the floor beside the fireplace. He lifted the tile without needing much force. Another tiny smile ghosted over his face when he remembered how much trouble he had had lifting that tile all those years ago. The space was empty but for a few large scrolls. He quickly pocketed them and put the tile back in its original place. He startled when someone knocked on the door. He brushed the dirt of his pants and seated himself at the table.
  
  "Enter," He called and waited for Jaime Lannister to seat himself in the exact same chair that Prince Renly had occupied earlier.
  
  Both men stared at each other, a tense silence between them. It seemed the brief time apart had dissipated the bit of rapport they had established earlier in the courtyard.
  
  "I believe you asked for this meeting, Lannister. But since you are hesitant to start, perhaps I should use the opportunity to apologise for ambushing you as I did the last time. I do not apologise for most of what I said, just for the way I went about it." Jon said his voice firm.
  
  "Can't say I blame you. I pray to the Gods for forgiveness every night. I already told you I regret pushing your cousin. I do even more now." Jaime Lannister held Jon's stare willing him to believe him.
  
  "Then state your business and we both can get back to our duties." It came out harsher than Jon intended but he preferred that to betraying how he was secretly warming up to the former knight.
  
  "I considered your father a friend. I wished things had been different. I failed his family. Ever since I heard of your existence, I realised you are my chance at redemption. Prince Rhaegar asked me to protect his children. Let me protect you, my Prince." Jaime moved from the chair until he kneeled before Jon, his head bowed.
  
  Jon should have been used to this by now. He was getting used to it when allies swore their allegiance, not yet though when repentant enemies made the attempt.
  
  "I cannot accept your sword, and not only for the practical reason that your life belongs to the Night's Watch. You must excuse me if I am not ready to trust you yet."
  
  Jaime got up but did not retake his seat. He moved to stand behind his chair, the table an additional barrier between them. Jon presumed Lannister did that so Jon would not feel threatened by the older man.
  
  "Then give me a chance to prove myself." Lannister tried once more to plead his case. "I heard you are about to confront a large army of dead men. Let me come along. I am an experienced commander. I can be of use to you in the field."
  
  Jon considered the proposal. It was not without value. Jon would be in the air during most of the attack. Tormund would lead the Free Folk. There probably was not a single man with the credentials of Jaime Lannister available at the Wall. It was one thing to lead a scouting party and fight off a few men of the Free Folk. Even the first ranger at Castle Black didn't have the experience of leading a large contingent of soldiers into battle nor of keeping his men in line in the chaos of a major clash.
  
  "I will speak to Cotter Pyke about it." Jon conceded finally.
  
  Jaime Lannister let out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you. If ever you feel so inclined, I am willing to tell you about my relationship with your father. Just say the word. I will take my leave now."
  
  Jon nodded and Jaime Lannister left before Jon had decided whether he would have liked to prolong the conversation or not.
  
  Interlude 29: Combining information
  
  "I know who you are now, Jon." His younger cousin sat next to him in the Godswood. They both had divested themselves of their boots and were waddling their naked feet in the shallow water of a small pond.
  
  Jon looked at him earnestly. "I never meant to lie to you, Bran."
  
  "I know. I understand all about keeping secrets now." Bran replied. His little cousin looked as if he carried an enormous burden within him.
  
  'Perhaps he does,' Jon realised. Lord Reed had welcomed him warmly upon his arrival at Greywater Watch. However, instead of inviting him inside the Hall and bringing him to his solar for a private talk, his former foster-father had promised him they would speak later and had immediately steered Jon away for the keep in the direction of the Godswood.
  
  "Better greet your cousin first." Lord Reed had said with a serious expression and had offered no further explanation letting Jon find his way to the heart tree on his own.
  
  Now Jon understood Lord Reed's motivation. It was Bran he had needed to visit. Bran was the one who had been given the visions for which Jon had made this detour instead of flying in a straight line from Pyke to Dragonstone. 'Was his young cousin carrying the burden of giving him a dire message and had Lord Reed sent him here first thing so Bran could get it over with?'
  
  "How do you like it here, Bran?" Jon chose to start with a more neutral topic.
  
  Bran looked at Jon and his features lightened. "It is nice here. Jojen and Meera are great as well. Summer likes roaming the swamps."
  
  "And the food? Have you gotten used to the strange eating habits of the crannogmen?"
  
  Bran's smile widened. "Lord Reed told me you didn't like vegetables all that much when you first lived here. I like most of them. And I don't mind eating frog every other day. It tastes bland enough. Lord Reed swears I will grow stronger, won't get sick as much and "
  
  "will keep your teeth in excellent condition." Jon chuckled. "He told me that regularly as well. I confess that I like eating greens much more now than when I was four and I still have all my teeth." He playfully showed them all to his younger cousin and they both fell silent for a little while.
  
  "And how do you get on with Lord Reed?" Jon asked wondering why Bran hadn't volunteered that information. He was an excellent foster-father to me. He still is. I learned a lot from him."
  
  The smile on Bran's face changed to a more serious expression again. His eyes were honest and his tone sincere when he replied. "I like him, I admire him a lot. He is a very uh solicitous teacher. I experience new things almost every day and he helps me cope with it all. I am really getting good at warging and I also, I uh," Bran paused and stared at his feet that were making small waves in the clear water of the pond.
  
  Jon saw the bit of enthusiasm that had appeared when his cousin mentioned warging disappear entirely. He nudged Bran's shoulder. "You can tell me, Bran. I am your kin, your friend and a warg just like you. I might understand."
  
  Bran pulled his feet out of the water and hugged his knees to his chest so he could rest his chin on top of them. He gave his cousins a serious look. "I do not think you can, Jon. The Gods don't wake you up in the middle of the night with visions, do they?"
  
  Jon also pulled his feet out of the pond and turned sideways so he could sit cross legged on the soft lush grass facing Bran.
  
  "You have been having visions in the middle of the night? Are you sure you did not fall asleep in the Godswood?" Jon asked him just to be sure.
  
  "I was not in the Godswood at the time. I was asleep in my bed when the visions started. The scary ones startled me so much that they woke me up. I was terrified and my heart was beating so fast that it hurt. It was similar to having nightmares. Only this was no nightmare, Jon. I realised instantly that the Gods had given me more messages. Even now I still remember each and every one of the visions the Gods sent me that night. I only need to close my eyes and I can picture every detail I was shown. Lord Reeds says the Gods favour me and I will become a very powerful greenseer. He warns me to be careful not to let others know except for you. He told me I could tell you and that you would understand. Why is that?" Bran lifted his head a bit so he could look straight at Jon.
  
  "Because I think I had visions while I slept in my bed as well." Jon admitted after some deliberation.
  
  Surprise covered Bran's face. He looked at Jon with wide eyes. "Truly? Did they scare you as well?"
  
  Jon moved a little closer to his young cousin and leaned over. His voice dropped near to a whisper. "They did, Bran. They scared and confused me."
  
  "Why do the Gods do that to us?" Bran's downcast tone made Jon feel sorry for him.
  
  "Perhaps because they do not realise how scary their messages are to us. They of course know the full meaning of what they are showing us. These visions are a lot scarier to us simple humans because we do not know for sure what they are about. Hells, we are even in the dark as to when things will happen or if we worry needlessly about something that already happened long before we were born."
  
  "You really do understand." Bran huddled closer to Jon and leaned against him for comfort.
  
  "You realise that you will soon be King, Jon?" Bran's voice was soft as a whisper as well when he uttered these words.
  
  "Did the Gods show you that, Bran?" Jon questioned keeping his tone casual. He badly wanted to hear more but made sure to allow his cousin to tell it at his own pace.
  
  "I think so. I saw you on a green dragon. It might have been you that I saw next to King Robert's deathbed and I saw you with a crown on your head and your hair was all grey. Do you already have dragons, Jon?" Bran's voice sounded eager. It was easy to understand which answer he was hoping to hear from Jon.
  
  "I had them since I was twelve." Jon readily admitted. He smiled when he saw his cousin's eyes grow wide. "The green dragon is Rhaegal. I was able to come here so quickly because I rode him. I can introduce you to him tomorrow morning if you like. He has a brother too, Viserion. But the green dragon, he is my special friend, just as Summer is your friend." Jon nodded his head when he met Bran's questioning eyes.
  
  "You can warg into a dragon? For real? Controlling a dragon, that must be an amazing feeling." Bran smiled when Jon nodded again.
  
  "It is more akin to mind sharing than warging. When I connect with Rhaegal, we are equals, whereas when I connect with Ghost, I am in command." Jon explained.
  
  "Magic is getting stronger in the realm. The Gods were right." Bran murmured.
  
  Jon felt a shiver running down his spine. "What did the Gods tell you about that, Bran? Will you tell me?"
  
  "That Evil is growing stronger. Therefore, Good needs to grow stronger too. They are doing all they can to help us. They also hint that you are special and everyone needs to help you. I saw enough to guess that you were born with magic because the leader of the bad forces has reawakened after thousands of years. His magic is growing stronger by the day. Someone needs to be able to oppose him so the balance between good and evil can be kept. Otherwise, the survival of every living being in the realm is threatened."
  
  "Have you seen this leader of the bad forces, Bran? I might have seen him once in a vision but I only caught a small glimpse."
  
  "I saw him." Bran admitted looking uneasy. "At least I think it was him. He had a scary white-blue face and his hair was more like ice peaks that stood upright. In fact, he looked like he was entirely made of ice. He had this scary long blue fingernail with which he touched a small baby's cheek. With a single touch he turned a rosy healthy looking baby into an ice baby, Jon. The Gods showed me how he creates his brothers. That was the vision that scared me so much that I woke up with my heart racing in my chest."
  
  Jon put his arm around his cousin to offer some comfort. "That sounds like the creature I have seen. In my vision I was fighting him. I think our Gods sent me some advice on how to defeat him. Don't worry Bran, I will do everything I can to protect you, to protect the realm."
  
  "But first you must become the true King." Bran's voice once more was barely above a whisper. "A King to defeat a King."
  
  Jon stiffened when he felt these words echo inside of him. "Then I did not interpret what I saw the wrong way." He whispered back. "I felt the same thing, Bran. I did not hear these words, I felt them."
  
  "I know." Bran said leaning into Jon for comfort. "That's how I experience it as well. The feelings that accompany these visions sometimes explain more than a thousand pictures could."
  
  "Would you be willing to tell me more about the visions you had, Bran? You said something about King Robert's death earlier?" Jon still had his arm around Bran. He angled his body a little so he could see his cousin's face without straining his neck.
  
  "Of course, Jon. That is why we asked you to come here. You need to know all that I've seen. I do not know whether it will be of much help to you though. I have no clue about when these things might come to pass." Bran proceeded to tell Jon every detail about the scene he had witnessed in the King's bedroom in the Red Keep.
  
  "What was the man who was kneeling with his back to you wearing, Bran?" Jon asked. "Did he carry a sword? Do you recall details about his coat, the colour of the fabric or patterns in the fur collar?"
  
  When Bran had finished his description, Jon was fairly sure it had been him in Bran's vision. He no longer wondered why Howland Reed had insisted that he visited them at his earliest convenience. This was a possibility that hadn't been included in one of their scenarios or contingency plans. Even if Bran's visions had provided no clear timeline, this was vital information.
  
  Jon put his hand on Bran's shoulder. "No wonder Howland Reed is proud of you. You are doing wonderfully, Bran. I am lucky to have you looking out for me."
  
  "Even though you are a greenseer yourself?" Bran asked, still a bit uncertain even though his cheeks had coloured under Jon's praise.
  
  "I am not even a tenth as powerful as you already are. In fact, I am not sure if I am really a greenseer. Perhaps the Gods only contact me when there is no other way." Jon pondered. "I can only count a handful of dreams that I suspect are visions in my entire life."
  
  "I'll help you. Lord Reed can help as well. You are important to the realm, Jon."
  
  "Thank you, Bran. I will indeed need all the help I can get. Now take your time and tell me anything you think I need to know. I won't leave before you had the chance to tell me all. I am lucky to have you looking out for me. You have been a tremendous help already, cousin."
  
  Jon knew he had struck the right tone when Bran straightened his posture. Gone was the frightened young boy. His cousin looked more confident now and told Jon every vision he had been gifted here at Greywater Watch.
  
  As soon as Bran had finished describing the rest of the visions, Jon had changed the subject and had opted to tell his little cousin about his first warging exercises when he had only celebrated his fourth nameday. He chose the ones where things had not always gone exactly according to plan and when Bran chimed in and told one of his more naughty deeds, the ominous visions were all but gone from his young cousin's mind, at least for a while.
  
  The sun had set a while ago and it was rather dark beneath the trees in the Godswood when Jon and Bran finally decided to go inside. They walked side by side very comfortable in each other's company.
  
  His talk with Howland Reed was not as straightforward. They had retired to the Lord's solar after Bran had gone to bed. Jon couldn't remember one single occasion during his time fostering at Greywater Watch that he had received such a harsh scolding. When Lord Reed finally finished his long reprimand Jon did not utter a single word in his own defense. He had no rebuttal. Lord Reed was right on all counts. He should never have taken the risk.
  
  If Lord Reed was to be believed, what he had tried to do had been even more risky than he had been aware of. Stronger men had died from eating those mushrooms or so Howland Reed had told him.
  
  "At least promise me you will never attempt something like that everagain," Lord Reed all but ordered him when Jon kept silent.
  
  "I promise, I swear it on everything that I hold dear, Lord Reed. I won't try it again, even if I never have another vision by conventional means again." Jon's voice cracked during his fervent attempt to get absolution from his former foster-father. He cleared his throat. "I had been meaning to ask you to help me, to teach me as you taught Bran. Would you be willing to do that?"
  
  The crannogman's admonishing stare stayed fixed on the Targaryen Prince for a long while. "You do not deserve it. Not after what you have done. I expected better judgement from you, Jon. I never once suspected that you were one of those boys that let their baser instincts rule their brains. You almost condemned us all because of your impatience, because you wanted to kiss a beautiful girl without feeling guilty about it."
  
  Even though Jon had flinched the moment Lord Reed hinted he knew more about him and Dany than Jon had revealed, he kept up his effort to convince the greenseer to help him. "I learned my lesson, Lord Reed. I do not make a vow lightly. I am true to my word. You know that of me. If you are truly convinced that I am so important to the realm, then help me."
  
  When he saw the stern expression on Lord Reed's face lessen somewhat, he continued his plea with even more insistence. "Please teach me. We need every advantage if we intend to prevail against the Others. I have the potential in me to receive visions once in a while. What if I missed an important clue because I can't distinguish vision from dream and have not been taught ways try to prolong these visions? Please?"
  
  Somehow Jon felt certain Howland Reed would cave eventually. It was even possible that he already had decided to give in and was only trying to get his message across before agreeing to give his former ward some much needed lessons.
  
  "You have made good use of your talk with Bran, I see. Perhaps you are not that dim-witted after all."
  
  Jon was catapulted back into time when the crannogman's beady eyes seemed to look right through him. He felt nothing but relief when it dawned on him that Howland Reed's stance had relaxed noticeably and that the look that was fixed on him now was changing into one of the more benevolent ones he had grown used to during his stay at Greywater Watch. He kept silent aware that his best chance was to give the greenseer ample time to reach his decision.
  
  "Meet me tomorrow morning in the Godswood at first light. I see what I can do with the limited time we have at our disposal. You will want to depart for Dragonstone soon, I reckon?"
  
  Jon released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "I do. I will stay the necessary time though. This is very important."
  
  Howland Reed nodded. "Sit down and let us talk about the impact of Bran's visions for a bit. I am sure they left you with a lot of questions."
  
  Jon was only too happy to oblige. As soon as the both of them were seated in their usual chairs before the fireplace, he started the conversation.
  
  "At least one vision reassured me a bit."
  
  "Let me guess." Howland studied the serious face of his former ward. "The one where you wear a crown and your hair is all grey?"
  
  Jon nodded. "I never could keep anything a secret from you for long. It seems living apart all this time hasn't changed that. Indeed, from the moment that I learned more about the prophesy and really started to believe that I was the one to lead the fight against the dead and more importantly the fight against their leader, I've feared that I might not survive that fated fight. If balance needs to exist in the realm, then when Evil is defeated, the hero no longer has a purpose to fulfil."
  
  "You had knowledge of this leader before Bran told you?" Apparently this was something Lord Reed hadn't been aware of.
  
  "Yes, I did. There is this White Walker that leads the other Walkers. After hearing about Bran's vision of the baby, I now suspect he is their creator as well. He has strong magic and will be my ultimate opponent. The key to surviving is to defeat him. I saw a glimpse of myself in single combat with him and nobody else could reach us. I had the strong premonition that even if I were able to destroy him, that I would not survive the fight myself. Sometimes I feel so insignificant, so unworthy, especially after I made yet another mistake." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "During times like that, I fear I will not be able to do what the Gods want me to do."
  
  Jon sat back and leaned against one of the soft feathered pillows that he remembered so well from his youth.
  
  "And now Bran's vision gave you hope that you will prevail." Lord Reed stated the obvious. "Anything else you want to tell me about your vision?
  
  "Not really." Jon had lowered his shoulders. "Do not take it personally. I have not told anyone and I won't yet. Not before I can make sense of what I saw. It is not about to happen anytime soon anyway. Not now we are sure that I will face him after I am crowned King. I knew that before Bran told me. I had the same premonition. He just confirmed it."
  
  "A King to defeat a King." Lord Reed nodded.
  
  "Apparently the prophecy got it wrong. It is not the Prince but the King That Was Promised." Jon gave Howland Reed a wan smile.
  
  "Or the prophecy was too vague, humans botched it up over the years or something got lost in translation." The crannogman suggested. "So about the upcoming battle then, can you tell me a bit more about that? If not their general, who will you fight this time?"
  
  Jon straightened his back again and started to tell him about what had been prepared already. It had grown very late before they decided to call it a night and promised to meet again in the Godswood come morning. Despite the stern talking to he had received, he was glad he had been able to discuss his substance abuse with another adult. Keeping secrets proved to be more burdensome than he could ever have imagined.
  
  He ended up staying another day and night. After some promising lessons, both men had combined all they knew about the past, the present and the future. The only subject they didn't touch upon was his intent to wed Dany. Somehow the fact that Howland Reed didn't bring that subject up reassured Jon. After the dressing down he had received his first evening, he was sure Lord Reed would have had no scruples in warning him away from her had he known it would jeopardise their cause.
  
  Jon left Greywater Watch well satisfied with the outcome of this visit. It had been worth the extra delay.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter: Reunions and introductions on Dragonstone.
  
  In the interlude Oberyn Martell and Olenna Tyrell spar with words.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Reunions and introductions
  Chapter 30: Reunions and introductions
  
  Summary:
  
  An abundance of reunions and introductions occur on Dragonstone.
  
  Lady Olenna Tyrell corners Prince Oberyn. Or is it the other way around?
  
  Notes:
  
  Enjoy the latest chapter, proofread as always by the ever diligent Ravenousreadr.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  The weather was nice and warm. The only wind Jon and his dragons felt was the air they were replacing by flying at such a speed. To Jon it seemed as if they had never flown so fast. But then, he often had the same notion when they flew over large distances. He hadn't needed to ask his dragons whether they minded making the trip all the way to Dragonstone only to have to fly back north in a matter of days. Rhaegal and Viserion enjoyed these long flights. They certainly liked testing their speed limit. But most of all they were thrilled by their current destination.
  
  The sudden surge in his dragons' emotions alerted Jon that they had almost arrived before he actually saw Dragonstone shimmer in the distance with his own eyes. The hot air of the afternoon sun made it look like the island was a bit distorted. But it was Dragonstone all right. The happy screeches his dragons let out would certainly herald their arrival.
  
  His dragons kept flying at top speed eager to get home. At the rate they were going, he imagined himself being catapulted over Rhaegal's head the moment the dragon needed to reduce speed drastically for the touchdown. Jon had to ask Rhaegal to take care with the landing. When they reached the cliff, Viserion provoked Rhaegal by tumbling playfully in the air while Rhaegal needed to keep steady so his human could safely reach the ground. Jon hardly had time to thank the green dragon and say his goodbyes before Rhaegal took off and joined his brother in the air finally able to express his joy without restrictions at being home once more.
  
  When Jon turned his eyes away from his dragons' antics, he saw a large group descending the long winding stairway. Daenerys was already at the bottom running towards the cliff as fast as she could. Suddenly Jon felt the same delight as his dragons. Quickly realising that the further on the cliff they met up the longer it would take for the others to catch up, he stood his ground but smiled encouragingly at her.
  
  She was out of breath when he finally could enclose her in his arms. "You're here. You're here." She murmured against his ear. "I was becoming worried. The raven you sent from Pyke gave us the impression you would be here a day earlier."
  
  Jon didn't reply but took her head in both hands and kissed her.
  
  "Aegon, they will see." She whispered, slightly out of breath when he finally released her mouth.
  
  Jon just gazed into her purple eyes, their faces hovering only inches apart. He had yet to speak.
  
  She only needed to lean in slightly and their lips would touch again. She felt her cheeks go warm at that thought. A sigh from contentment escaped her lips. She relished the fact that Jon was still holding her head in his hands and that his loving eyes were focussed solely on her. She admired the way his dark, almost black curls fell in soft waves over his forehead, swaying slightly with the wind that always blew a bit stronger out here on the cliffs.
  
  Then her eyes wandered to his mouth again. It looked so sensual and soft, contrasting with the straight lines of the rest of his face. His lips glistened from the remnants of their passionate greeting and she touched hers with the tip of her tongue to savour the remaining taste he had left there. She didn't dare to speak again not wanting to ruin this precious moment before she absolutely had to. It would be broken soon enough by the approaching group.
  
  Jon gave her a soft peck and released her face only to take both her hands in his and wove their fingers together. He finally spoke his first words. "I don't mind. I don't mind, Dany. It is not as if they don't already know. We just have to keep it a secret from the realm for now. I really don't mind that Ser Gerold and the rest know."
  
  Dany's eyes were moist. If his letter had given her hope, this warm welcome and the resolve with which his words were spoken told her all she needed to know. She had never felt as happy as she did right this minute and saw he was also struggling to keep his composure. She closed her eyes for a moment and smelled the salty air, trying to commit every last detail of this precious encounter on the green cliffs of her home to memory. A memory she would hopefully get the chance to describe to their children and grandchildren when they asked her to tell them about her courtship with their father or grandfather, King Aegon the Sixth of his name.
  
  She opened her eyes again when she heard the others were closing in. Even if she didn't want their moment to end, she had to be sensible because she knew who was coming to meet Prince Aegon. She took a step backwards. "Aegon, we have visitors. It would be best if you let go of me before they come close enough to see this as more than a greeting between kin."
  
  Jon reluctantly took his eyes off her blushing face, looked over her shoulder and gently released her hands. Davos Seaworth and all four knights were approaching. Sam was a bit further behind with another group but Jon only had eyes for his loyal entourage that he had missed dearly.
  
  Davos, despite being the eldest reached Jon first and embraced him. "Damned good to see you, son. You had me worried there for an instant."
  
  "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Davos. I can't count the times that I missed your presence and wise advice." Jon basked in the affection bestowed on him.
  
  "Well, I am here now." Davos ended their embrace and took a step back to study the young man closely. "You look well. Strong. The others had me worried."
  
  A guilty smile flitted over Jon's face. "In their defense, I was sick when last they saw me."
  
  His awkward smile quickly changed in to a more honest one when he looked past Davos at the others, happy to be reunited with them all.
  
  "Damned right you were!" Ser Gerold exclaimed. "Davos, give way. We want a chance to greet our Prince too."
  
  His embrace was a bit shorter and Ser Oswell's even more. The knight seemed almost shy.
  
  "My Prince."
  
  Jon looked to his left knowing all too well who had spoken these two words. Ser Arthur stood there smiling broadly.
  
  "Ser Arthur, you made it south as well." Jon turned his way and initiated their embrace. "I have been training hard. You will not be disappointed."
  
  "That is the least of my worries, my Prince. I am glad to see you looking so well. I can't wait to hear what your plans are."
  
  "You'll hear soon enough." Jon promised.
  
  "The Princess?" Ser Arthur gave him a look that asked a lot more than those two words.
  
  "Yeah." Jon's heartfelt expression betrayed the rest of his answer.
  
  "Come here, my boy!" Ser Arthur was pushed aside and Jon almost lost his balance when one of the visitors pulled him towards his body.
  
  "Prince Oberyn? What a nice surprise!" Jon noticed the others had retreated a bit to give the Dornish Prince enough space.
  
  "See?" Prince Oberyn told to no one in particular with twinkling eyes when he released the Targaryen Prince from his exuberant embrace. "It was me he wanted to see all along. Young Tarly shouldn't have held me back."
  
  He gestured to a woman standing close to Sam. "May I present my paramour, Ellaria Sand to you, my Prince?"
  
  A tall exotic woman with slanted eyes that were accentuated with black eyeliner approached. She might not have been the most beautiful woman Jon had ever met, but her entire demeanour, the way she almost floated when she moved, the kind expression in her eyes and the well-chosen vibrant colours of her extravagant attire all enhanced her appearance and transformed her into an enchantress many men would desire. The woman oozed sensuality. Upon meeting her, Jon had no trouble believing most of Prince Oberyn's highhanded tales of their outrageous exploits were true, in particular the allusions to their unconventional sex life.
  
  Jon bowed formally in response to her curtsy. "I am honoured to meet you, Ellaria Sand. Prince Oberyn's partner is most welcome here. I look forward to getting to know you better."
  
  He noticed Oberyn and Ellaria share a quick look. Jon didn't know what Ellaria's meant. Prince Oberyn's look easily translated in 'See, I told you so.'
  
  Ellaria Sand looked up at the sky. "Your dragons are magnificent, my Prince." She was not the only one who was observing the playful antics of Rhaegal and Viserion.
  
  "On that note," Prince Oberyn gestured the others to approach. "May I present some friends from Dorne who will support you whatever my older brother may decide?"
  
  "By all means." Jon smiled at Ellaria one last time and turned his attention to the men that Sam had finally given leave to approach.
  
  "Lord Daeron Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway, Prince Aegon." Oberyn for once serious started the formal introductions of two new Dorne allies that had pledged to support the imminent Targaryen restoration.
  
  After a short polite conversation the men made room for Ser Arthur to approach his Prince once more. This time he led a middle aged lady by the hand. "May I present my sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne, my Prince." The genuine smile on his Kingsguard's face belied the stately manner of the introduction.
  
  The lady curtsied and when she straightened her back once more, Jon immediately noticed the resemblance with her brother in her hesitant smile.
  
  "I am honoured to meet you, Lady Dayne. I am sorry you were deprived of your brother's company for all those years. I owe Ser Arthur a great deal. He played an important part in making it possible that I am standing before you healthy and well and capable of defending myself. I consider myself in your debt." Jon bowed as a show of respect.
  
  "You honour our house, my Prince. I am glad to get to know the person my brother dedicated his life to. I can already see that he spoke true even if he spoke little." With a playful reproaching look at her brother she stepped aside and gave the Prince time to greet the few visitors that were still patiently awaiting their turn.
  
  Only after the formalities were behind them and the group guided by Princess Daenerys headed back to the castle, did Jon get a chance to greet Sam properly. After sharing a long embrace and expressing their joy at seeing the other in good health, Jon was the first to speak up again.
  
  "Robb, Gendry and Edric send their warmest regards, Sam." He kept his voice down to keep their conversation private.
  
  "I received letters from each one. They all said the same thing and I quote 'I have time to write now that Jon left us once again.' end of quote." Sam's tone was teasing.
  
  Jon smiled impishly. "Can I help it that you are all dispersed across the realm? We really need to find a way to get everyone together again. We will succeed in it one day, Sam."
  
  "How long are you here for, Jon?" Sam looked at Jon and it seemed that he was almost afraid of the answer.
  
  Jon sighed. "A sennight, ten days at the most. I want to be back at least a fortnight before the dead arrive at the prearranged spot so I can help with the final preparations and be in time should they somehow arrive sooner for some reason or other."
  
  "Ten days." Sam looked pensive. "As soon as Varys hears that, you may expect more delegations to arrive. Everyone that has rallied to our cause has been expressing the desire to meet you in person. You better be prepared for a small invasion. Especially Prince Oberyn will not be able to keep himself from boasting and gloating."
  
  "Those are worries for another day. I hope we have a feast this evening. I feel like celebrating my homecoming. The dragons' mood has affected mine it seems."
  
  "That must be a Targaryen thing then." Sam teased him some more. "The Princess' mood has changed considerably as well. If I compare the way she beams from ear to ear now to the worried look she wore this morning..."
  
  Jon nudged his shoulders. "Be glad for us, Sam. That is what a loyal friend would be."
  
  "I am glad for you and the Princess, Jon. I was praying that you would come to your senses any day now. If you had remained a stubborn fool for much longer, I might have given you a not so subtle nudge in the right direction or have called for a group intervention. You are one lucky fellow or a very smart one to fall for the woman most suitable to strengthen your claim."
  
  "I don't think sense had anything to do with it. Luck? Yeah, luck and perhaps fate." Jon admitted.
  
  "And blood, and magic." Sam whispered.
  
  "Don't forget the Gods." Jon sighed happily. "I will send them my thanks each night when I pray. I am one lucky man."
  
  Jon was content to be reunited with the knights that had raised him all those years. The only downside was that they all vied for his time. Ser Gerold had arranged guard duties rather unconventionally his first day. Before Jon went to sleep, all four of them had been on duty for a short period. Each one had his own set of questions they wanted to ask in private. Jon only needed to wait till the first sliver of opportunity presented itself for the questions to start.
  
  While he was bathing, Ser Gerold who was guarding the entrance of the small antechamber had briefed him on the new security measures on Dragonstone now that there were new visitors expected to arrive daily. The houseguards had been doubled. Access was restricted in the wing that housed the royal quarters. The corridors leading to these rooms had guards posted in them day and night.
  
  Ser Gerold asked his Prince to give him advance notice of his movements so he could arrange an escort of at a minimum two Kingsguards and when the circumstances asked for it a small contingent of houseguards to follow him around as well.
  
  Jon had stepped out of the tub and was drying himself with a cloth when he agreed with Ser Gerold measures and made it clear that he understood the need for these heightened security measures and had been reassured that the Princess' security had been upgraded as well.
  
  He was putting on the clothes that lay on the bed, the ones he had chosen earlier when Ser Gerold switched the subject. His Lord Commander asked to hear more details of how Sandor was doing in the North and expressed his concerns on the appointment of Lady Brienne to his Kingsguard.
  
  Jon listened carefully even if his eyes were trained on his hands that were tightening the laces of his breeches. Until now, Jon had been able to withhold from engaging the services of a page, a squire or any other male servant. He was capable of seeing to his own needs, cherishing the solitude and privacy that this gave him. He was well aware that things might change the moment he became the King and lived at court.
  
  "Don't get me wrong, my Prince. I admire her attitude. She is one of the most forthright, one of the most honourable persons I met and she is a very skilled fighter. It is just the logistical nightmare of having a woman live with us at the White Sword Tower. Apart from my room that is rather spacious, there are only six sparse sleeping cells all on the same floor and they are only used for sleeping. All other activities take place in the communal room."
  
  "Ser Gerold, although I have never seen it with my own eyes, I have read a detailed description of the White Sword Tower. It doesn't feel right to have my loyal Kingsguards, who raised me and lived with me in close proximity for so long, living in such mediocre accommodations while I dwell in luxury. Furthermore, the Gods willing, I intend to have a large family that needs to be protected and I also intend to assign more responsibilities to the three, or four of you on top of your guard duties."
  
  "My Prince?" This was not the response Ser Gerold had expected to receive.
  
  "The four of you will be asked to play an active role in various meetings for one, and it won't do to have you stand guard by the door and keep silent when you do so. I plan to expand the Kingsguard. I want to differentiate between senior Kingsguard members and the newer recruits. My three senior Kingsguards will also be advisers to the King and ambassadors when I visit the other Kingdoms. I will have to talk with Ser Barristan and Princess Daenerys to see what he prefers to do. The newer members of the Kingsguard that you recruit and train will be more formal guards and will be given the more routine guarding duties. So I give you leave to go in search of another building either to house all of you or to add to the quarters you already call your own."
  
  "But my Prince, the safety of your spouse and children is the responsibility of the Dragonguard. Their numbers can vary to suit the needs of the royal family. Surely you must have been taught about the Royal Guard having three divisions? The position of Kingsguard is very exclusive. There have never been more than seven White Cloaks."
  
  Jon stopped searching for his sword belt and sat down on the bed. He seemed deep in thought. "To tell you the truth, I had forgotten about that. I did indeed learn about this when I was very young. I learned those terms by hard but didn't actual consider the true meaning behind the words at the time. In recent years, the subject never came up again."
  
  He looked up at Ser Gerold. "You have plans in place already to reinstate the Royal Guard with its three divisions?"
  
  "It has always been that way when a Targaryen ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Are you going to toss these traditions aside, my Prince?" Ser Gerold did his best to hide his dismay at the thought.
  
  "I didn't, I mean." Jon swallowed. His earnest eyes looked at the slightly pained expression of his Lord Commander. "I only wanted to reward my three loyal protectors and make sure they know I am aware that they have more potential than just being loyal swords that keep me safe. I will need your council as well as your swords. What is your council in this regard, Ser Gerold?"
  
  Ser Gerold stood rooted to his spot and replied formally. "I envisioned myself as the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard and as such I would be responsible to oversee the three separate divisions. I must confess I have already ordered a new white cloak edged in gold. That position entitles me to be a member of your small council."
  
  Seeing his Prince nod, Ser Gerold felt encouraged to continue. "Either Ser Arthur or Ser Oswell could then be named as Commander of the Kingsguard also known as the White Cloaks. They are the first division of the Royal Guard, dedicated solely to the King's safety. Ser Barristan could be named Commander of the second division, the Dragonguard. If you recall from your lessons they are responsible for the safety of the Queen and royal children. These men are recognised by their cloaks of half red and half black with a white three headed dragon on the back and on the breast. As the Commander of the Dragonsguard, Ser Barristan's cloak would be edged in silver.
  
  I do not have a candidate for the position of Commander of the Household Guard yet. I will assume these responsibilities at first until I find someone suitable."
  
  "I couldn't help but notice that the Houseguards on Dragonstone wear the black coats with a red three headed dragon on the back and breast as worn by the Targaryen royal houseguard." Jon remarked a pensive look on his face. "You have been building a Household guard but no Dragonguard as yet?"
  
  "I wanted to speak to you about the appointment of Ser Barristan first. I am not sure what the man's ambitions are and wouldn't wish to disappoint you by antagonising him. Perhaps he is vying for the position of Commander of the Kingsguard."
  
  "What about the choice between Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell?" Jon asked him perplexed. "I would have thought that was the more delicate decision."
  
  "I wanted to talk to Ser Arthur first and offer the position to him. If he declines then Ser Oswell will be promoted. That is if you agree, my Prince."
  
  Again Jon nodded looking grave. "It is all coming back to me now. Household guards can be promoted into the Dragonguard when a spot opens up. Dragonguards in turn can be promoted into the Kingsguard when there is a vacancy. I obviously overstepped. However, I can't go back on my word as far as the appointments of Lady Brienne of Tarth and Lord Loras of House Tyrell are concerned. I explicitly promised them a knighthood and a position in my Kingsguard."
  
  "I will honour your promise, my Prince. " Ser Gerold was quick to give his assent. "There have always been exceptions. Take the appointment of Ser Jaime for instance. He became a Kingsguard because of his fighting skills and pedigree when he was very young. Then of course, Baratheon didn't have a formal Dragonguard."
  
  Jon looked relieved now. "Can we postpone the other appointments until after the battle I am about to lead near Hardhome? Be assured, I will leave the ultimate decision to you and promise not to appoint any other members to your Kingsguard. If ever I am in that position again, I will recommend the men or women in question to you and won't interfere in your decision."
  
  "You recommendations will always be considered most seriously, my Prince. You are certainly qualified enough to detect a good fighter. But always keep in mind their honour and loyalties are also very important qualifications to take into consideration."
  
  "And you will see to it that the three of you will be available for advice and I can still ask Ser Arthur for example to attend a meeting or join me on a trip to another Kingdom and have him attend meetings there?" Jon had gotten up from the bed again and picked up his sword belt.
  
  "We'll discuss such details after you return from the Wall, my Prince."
  
  Jon put his sword belt around his waist and turned to Ser Gerold when he continued a serious expression on his face."And the White Sword Tower can remain the home of the Kingsguard, with perhaps some alterations to accommodate the lady Brienne? Let me know if you need other lodgings."
  
  "I will think on all you have proposed, my Prince. We'll revisit this conversation later. I promise to extend a warm welcome to the two new members. We will find a way to make it work and I will look into the accommodations. However I want to make it clear right now that the Kingsguard will never relinquish the White Sword Tower."
  
  "But they might consider upgrading it a little?" Jon couldn't help but suggest with a tentative smile.
  
  "They might at that." Ser Gerold relented and his serious face relaxed when he looked in the earnest eyes of his Prince. "It is a pleasure serving you my Prince, an honour and a pleasure."
  
  Not long after, Ser Gerold had left him only for Ser Oswell to take up guard duty. Jon unpacked his small bag, sorted through his affairs left behind on Dragonstone and laid out a new doublet suitable to entertain his visitors during dinner that evening. Then Jon asked Ser Oswell to escort him to the location where Dragonstone's new heart tree had taken root. Ser Oswell informed him about the plans of planting more trees and building a small garden complete with surrounding stone wall to create a safe haven to pray sometime in the future. For now, the war efforts were taking precedent.
  
  Jon nodded, and swallowed thickly before expressing the wish for a small crater to be dug as well. It would be nice to have an artificial pond close to the heart tree. While they strolled back to the castle, Ser Oswell wanted to hear about his sparring sessions, an account of Gendry's efforts and a detailed description of the arsenal of dragonglass weapons.
  
  A bit later Ser Barristan took over guard duty and didn't beat about the bush. He immediately raised the topic of the Princess. The knight gently coaxed him to reveal how things stood between them. Jon sitting at the small table stopped reading the messages that lay before him and informed the old knight that aside from a major catastrophe, he considered the two of them betrothed. Ser Barristan then recommended that he should tell the Princess as much. Jon promised to use the first opportunity he could find to do just that. Ser Barristan left with a smile on his face only to have Ser Arthur take over his watch.
  
  The talk with Ser Arthur had been the more emotional one. After broaching topics as the wellbeing of his friends including Sandor and his uncle Benjen, the knight had gotten Jon to talk about the prophecy and whether Jon now truly believed that he was at the center of it.
  
  Jon who still had difficulty at times grasping the fact that simply by being born, he was entitled to a Kingship, ride dragons and was the predestined hero to lead the fight against the dead, had always refrained from discussing his role in the prophecy with anyone except for Lord Reed. But somehow Ser Arthur had gotten past his defenses that day and it had all come pouring out of him.
  
  "I know it doesn't make sense, Ser Arthur and I don't want to sound melodramatic, but despite the general consensus that I have embraced my birthright. I struggle with doubts every day."
  
  He looked up as if to check if Ser Arthur was willing to hear him out. Ser Arthur left his position close to the door and sat opposite Jon, the table still littered with the scrolls that Jon had been sifting through between them.
  
  "I have known since I was twelve that I have this destiny and I have learned to accept it for the most part. But there are times that I can't help feeling I am not worthy of it. And on top of that it now has become clear that I am indeed at the center of a prophecy that is thousands of years old. Why now, why me? What if I cannot live up to expectations?"
  
  "I cannot begin to imagine the burden you carry with you, my Prince. I can only assure you that you are doing fine. You are not shying away from the responsibility. At the very least, be proud of that. You are embracing your destiny as best as you can. You will become a good King step by step, just as you've grown from baby to boy to man not overnight but over the course of seventeen years."
  
  "But I am not perfect. I make mistakes just as everybody else. I have a problem with asking things of others. I worry about people giving things up, risking their lives because of me. Why do older, wiser, better men kneel before a younger man just because of his ancestry?"
  
  "I can only answer for myself, my Prince. It is ingrained in me. It is the way of our society, the customs and mores we grew up with. The moment I became a Kingsguard, I swore to serve and protect the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms for the rest of my live. I consider serving you as the greatest honour that has been bestowed on me."
  
  "And what if I had turned out to be a stupid boy who can't count to ten or a cruel tyrant who orders people killed for no reason? What if I turned out to be a reincarnation of the Mad King? Does the role you have chosen for yourself prevent you from thinking for yourself, from taking responsibility for your actions?"
  
  Ser Arthur shifted in his chair into a better angle using the delay to formulate his answer. "If you were just a stupid boy, we would have given you sound advisers who could guide you or take over the duties you could not perform. The other two possibilities you describe, I honestly do not know how I would have acted. It is a difficult question you ask, my Prince. As knights we are sworn to protect our monarch but also have a duty to defend the weak. If these interests clash, I will need to assess the situation and all its circumstances and live with the decision I make the rest of my life."
  
  "I'll give you some specific circumstances." Jon immediately grasped the opening Ser Arthur had given him.
  
  "I am a Mad King and have hurt the people of my Kingdoms cruelly and without justification on multiple occasions. Now I sit on my throne while a rebellion is raging outside the walls I hide behind. I have ordered for explosive substances to be put in strategic parts of the city. A single order from me will cripple the invading army but will also most certainly kill almost the entire population of my capital. You are the Kingsguard on duty that day and can hear me yelling the command to ignite the fires that will cause a chain of explosions and will destroy the entire city killing all its innocent inhabitants. Will you stop me if the only way to do so is killing your King, the one that you have sworn to protect, by stabbing me in the back?"
  
  Jon saw Ser Arthur's eyes grow wider while he talked. A frown had appeared on the knight's forehead. Suddenly it disappeared and he looked at Jon with understanding. "You are talking of Jaime Lannister!"
  
  Jon nodded. "And he was younger than I am now. I reckon that act destroyed the potential of the person he could have become. Instead of a famous knight like you, he became infamous and is called a Kingslayer. He was so unhappy that he sought emotional support from his twin and ended up fucking her and cuckolding the second King he served and could not esteem. Then circumstances drove him to almost murdering my cousin Bran in a fit of panic."
  
  "I feel sorry for Jaime Lannister. I have, ever since Ser Gerold told me what had really happened in the throne room that fateful day. Still I can't help but think that I am missing your point here, my Prince. I do not think that what you are trying to accomplish here is making me feel sorry for Ser Jaime, I mean Jaime Lannister." Ser Arthur looked at Jon with a question in his eyes
  
  Jon smiled apologetically. "That is because I am making a mess of my question. The thing is, I have this birthright, this destiny and you all consider me worthy now. One misstep however, one wrong decision could throw me off the right path and I could become another Jaime Lannister or worse, another Mad King. That fear cripples me sometimes."
  
  "I haven't witnessed any crippling yet, my Prince. Besides, you have all of us to fall back upon. To use your example, Jaime Lannister only had the dubious support of his evil egocentric sister."
  
  "True, I have the support and advice of many. But still the final decision and final responsibility is mine. And I struggle to decide sometimes. Even knowing most of my flaws, I just can't get around them."
  
  "The only flaw I see so far is you being too modest and taking too much on your shoulders." Ser Arthur reassured his Prince.
  
  "I have many flaws. I am not a good strategist when it comes to putting soldiers in harm's way. I read of battles where a commander willingly sacrifices a significant part of his army to set a trap, lure the enemy a certain way. I do not know if I will ever be able to do that. I can't help feeling partly to blame for the rebellion caused by my parents' secret marriage and it makes me doubt the righteousness of my claim at times. The realm has already bled for me to be born. I also have this urge to earn everyone's approval and that influences and potentially delays my decision making. I can go on for some time still."
  
  "Perhaps it is not me you should be talking to about all this. Davos, your uncle Benjen, Lord Reed are all better placed to help you out." Ser Arthur suggested. He was out of his depth and unsure how to respond to all he was hearing.
  
  "They all would offer well-meant advice. I know most of what they will say already. Rationally I know all that. I know that they are mostly right and that I am often overthinking things. But even knowing all that, the emotions are there and I struggle with them all the same. Talking about this out loud makes these feelings easier to put aside somehow. I just need a sympathetic ear, someone who listens without giving a lecture full of excellent advice afterwards."
  
  "I do not think that is a compliment exactly, you singling me out for this." Ser Arthur gave him a wan smile.
  
  "It is. You are easy to talk to. And when you give advice, it is always done in such a way that it does not limit my options, or tries to steer me in a certain direction. Besides, we are often of the same opinion." Jon smiled and Ser Arthur now returned his smile with a bit of relief.
  
  "It is interesting though that you left Eddard Stark out of the list of people to talk to about my dilemmas." Jon ventured.
  
  "You know well enough why I did that. I'd prefer not to voice my reasons out loud." Ser Arthur voice sounded firm, even if his eyes betrayed some humour.
  
  Both men stayed silent after that. Jon broke their contemplation when he asked in a much lighter tone. 'Want to hear who I beat while you were not with me?"
  
  "I'd be more interested to learn who did beat you, my Prince." Ser Arthur countered in a teasing tone. "I look forward to putting myself on that short list once again."
  
  "You can try. This is one area where I am losing my modesty and am not feeling guilty about it." Jon countered. "I look forward to sparring with you come morning."
  
  A knock startled Ser Arthur who immediately got up and walked back to the door.
  
  "Don't worry. It is just friendly old me wanting to see if the Prince has time to have a word." Jon heard Davos' voice tell Ser Arthur.
  
  "Let him in, Ser Arthur. I am most willing to have a private talk with my Hand." Jon nodded at Ser Arthur and the knight took up his guard duty in the hallway after closing the door.
  
  Jon had left the small table and stood near the fire place. If Davos wanted to talk, perhaps the softer chairs here would be more suitable. He turned his head and savoured the presence of his trusted adviser.
  
  "I can't find the words to express how glad I am to have you back, Davos."
  
  Davos chuckled. "Don't sweat it. I believed you the first time that you told me on the cliff. How are you doing, son?"
  
  "Glad to be back here. I never realised I missed Dragonstone when I was in the North. But then I have been rather busy there. There never seems to be enough time. But if I have to be honest. I am also anxious and somewhat scared about what is to come."
  
  "That is only natural. How is Robb Stark doing?"
  
  Jon launched in a long explanation telling him about the Stark siblings, his uncle, his friends, Sandor and his new wife and Tormund having a new-born son. When Davos started to ask after the situation in the North, Jon suggested keeping that conversation for the debriefing that was to take place tomorrow morning immediately after the sparring session.
  
  "Fair enough. Just the broad lines then." Davos agreed readily.
  
  "By now I have the support of the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands, The Vale, part of the Crownlands and part of Dorne. We have an impressive fleet stationed here and two large dragons. The Reach is still on the fence but I am not too worried about them ever since Loras has agreed to become a member of my Kingsguard. The Stormlands, Euron Greyjoy and of course King Robert are certain to oppose us." Jon paused for breath.
  
  "And reading the long list of Targaryen loyalists present in the capital and at the royal court of King Robert, the capital is ripe for the taking." Davos used the opportunity to pipe in.
  
  "Exactly. I can't marry Euron Greyjoy and Prince Stannis won't give up House Baratheon's claim to the Iron Throne just by me being a good husband to his daughter, I intend to adhere to my great-great-uncle's dying wish and marry Princess Daenerys."
  
  "Good for you, son." Davos was pleased to see Jon blush.
  
  "You really think so? I won't make a political mistake by not marrying Lady Margaery?" Even though it was phrased as a question, Jon's tone made it clear it was more of a statement and he just needed Davos to agree with him.
  
  "The Tyrells don't deserve that honour. If you were to marry for political reasons, I would think it fairer that you rewarded a house that has helped our cause as opposed to one that is always looking to find the highest bidder. No Jon, if Eddard Stark can seal the betrothal between his heir and Lady Margaery, the Tyrells are being recompensed more than their due. You don't know how many chances they have turned down over the years. I won't say anything against the Lady Margaery as a person. I don't know her well enough for that, but her family, you owe them nothing."
  
  "Am I understanding this right? Are you confirming that there is no need to delay our betrothal or keep it a secret?" Jon leaned forward as if that would make him hear Davos' reply that titbit sooner.
  
  "You would make one pining Princess very happy. Might I suggest a joint coronation and wedding ceremony in the Grand Sept of Baelor?"
  
  "Only if we marry before the old Gods in a Godswood at the latest the night before. Being married by a Septon in a grand ceremony is just a piece of theatre I am willing to play my part in to placate the followers of the Seven. I will consider myself married to Dany only after we have said our vows whilst kneeling in front of a heart tree before witnesses and having our union blessed by the Old Gods.
  
  When Prince Aegon Targaryen entered the Great Hall that evening, walking side by side with Princess Daenerys all eyes turned to them. Sam had taken Jon's words to heart and had seen to it that a festive atmosphere ruled the Great Hall. Decorations had been pulled out from under the dust. Combined with the newly painted banners, Jon had never seen the Great Hall looking so grand and festive. The throne was hidden behind the large drapes with their sigil. The side walls were lined with double rows of tables. Jon noticed the visitors from Dorne were all seated at the front table lining the wall to his left. Amongst them were several new arrivals and Jon anticipated more introductions.
  
  When his eyes scanned the other tables and the ones on the right side of the Great Hall, he smiled. He could put a name to all the men and most of their family members. It was nice to see the inhabitants of Dragonstone and the Driftmark mingling. He nodded several greetings before reaching the high table, noticing Dany doing the same with a happy smile on her face.
  
  Soft music could be heard coming from the left corner. Two young minstrels were sitting on a bench. One was playing a large harp that stood in front of him. The other was plucking strings on a strange looking instrument having a pear-shaped body and a long neck. The sweet, gentle tones coming from this musical instrument complimented the sound of the harp beautifully.
  
  As soon as Jon and Daenerys were seated, a line of servants entered carrying plates with deliciously smelling meat and freshly baked bread. Pitchers of wine were present in abundance. Jon leaned a bit forward so he could look past Davos to Sam and mouthed a sincere thank you. Sam nodded his head, smiling broadly.
  
  It had all been arranged to perfection. Everyone who witnessed the royal couple take their seats at the high table received the message loud and clear. You couldn't miss the large banners of the three headed dragon hanging behind them. A trueborn King and Princess of House Targaryen, aided by two living dragons would soon be staking its claim to the Iron Throne. And by the way they had entered it was clear that the Seven Kingdoms would not only have a new Targaryen King but also a new Queen with the blood of old Valyria. At least half of the Lords present were disappointed that their hopes to bind their house to House Targaryen in marriage were thwarted. Still the majority was looking forward to witnessing the beginning of the promising reign of the young King and his future Queen.
  
  When most of the food had been consumed, Jon and Dany agreed to do the rounds. Dany moved over to the Dornish delegation, Jon sat down at a table on the opposite side where two families, one from the Driftmark and the other from Dragonstone were arguing who was the better acquainted with the Targaryen Prince. Jon joined their banter and challenged them to prove to him who had first voiced his suspicions regarding his origins out loud. This promptly started another friendly rivalry with the houses on Dragonstone arguing that the inhabitants of the Driftmark had an unfair advantage there.
  
  Jon then silenced them all by telling a few stories of growing up on the small island. Soon more people drifted to his table and Jon found himself telling the story of raising two tiny dragons to a wide audience forming a circle around the table where he was seated.
  
  When he fell silent, Prince Oberyn, who had wormed his way to a spot close to the Targaryen Prince started entertaining everyone with a colourful tale of his first encounter with Prince Aegon and boasted how he had immediately recognised the fighting style of his dear friend, the famous Sword of the Morning and that way had known something had been up from the very first moment.
  
  A bit later, Princess Daenerys also joined that side of the room when most of the Dornish delegation expressed their wish to hear the stories Jon was telling. The chair next to Jon was immediately vacated and offered to her by a young carpenter that had helped transform the figurehead of their flagship. Jon took her hand in his and put it on his lap while they listened to the exaggerated tales of the Dornish Prince.
  
  Jon then interrupted him and took over the story revealing how a younger version of himself had tricked the Dornish Prince in teaching him the basics of fighting with a longspear. Prince Oberyn intruded several times to add an exaggerated detail. Noble Lords and smallfolk alike were spellbound. Jon spent a lovely evening basking in the company of friends and allies, grateful that everyone accepted him and happy that he and Dany could enjoy each other's company with neither censure from their environment nor tension between the two of them.
  
  His mind wandered a bit when Prince Oberyn told an elaborate story Jon had already heard at least twice during the time they had been together in Castle Black. He gently moved his thumb over Daenerys' hand that he was still holding in his lap and he thought back to their stolen moment right before supper.
  
  Jon had asked Dany to wait for him to pick her up so he could be her escort to dinner. When he had knocked on her door it had been a bit early still. It hadn't been Dany who had opened the door but instead it had been Irri, her handmaiden that had greeted him with a shy smile. Jon had returned the greeting and taken the opportunity to express his gratitude that she had been willing to travel to another continent to keep her friend company. Irri had blushed and invited him inside telling him her mistress had been awaiting him eagerly.
  
  Dany had been standing inside the room nervously wringing her hands but he saw the hope in her eyes when she lifted them to his face. Aside from his behaviour since arriving, his scroll must have arrived almost a sennight ago and he had understood that she was eager for him to explain the hints in his letter. Jon hadn't wasted any time.
  
  Careful not to disturb her elaborate hairdo, he had taken her in his arms and had given her a gently kiss. "Tomorrow I formally announce to the small council my intent to marry you. That is if you will still have me."
  
  He heard a small shriek coming from Irri who had remained by the door. Dany gave her a significant look and Irri smiled encouragingly at her and left the room.
  
  Dany in the meantime had taken a small step back and had looked at him her eyes suspiciously moist. "Is that your way of asking me? Not the most romantic proposal, Aegon." She had used a teasing tone even if there had been a tremor in her voice.
  
  Jon had grabbed both her hands, his dark Stark eyes looking warmly at hers with clear intent. "Let me try to do this right then." He had taken a deep breath. "Dearest, loveliest Dany, I would do anything to have you by my side day and night. It has been so hard these last few moons, knowing you exist in this world and not being able to stake my claim for the realm to see. I love you with every fibre of my being and I can't imagine a life where you are not beside me. Be my Queen and help me with the daunting task before us. Rule the Seven Kingdoms together with me. Warm my bed and give me heirs. Please promise you will marry me, my beloved."
  
  He had paused and had held his breath when he had seen two tears rolling down her cheeks. He had released her hands so his were free to gently wipe these tiny wet pearls away. "Don't cry, Dany. Just say yes and we can smile at each other for the rest of our lives."
  
  "You're sure, Aegon? No sudden setback, no declaration of war will incite you to rescind your word or worse live beside me with regret, with guilt?"
  
  He had enveloped her in his arms and pulled her body against him, gently guiding her head against his chest. "Forgive me for not deciding this sooner. But don't doubt me now, don't doubt my word. I did not make this decision lightly but I made it taking everything into account and am now absolutely convinced it is the best option for the realm as well as for you and me."
  
  He had put his hand under her chin and guided her head slowly upwards so she had been able to read the honesty and absence of doubt in his eyes.
  
  "I solemnly swear I will never regret this decision. Not only are you the only woman I could ever love, you strengthen my claim to the throne. Our children will have your pure Valyrian blood and you have already proved that you have what it takes to become a good Queen. You will provide me with council, support me and together we will strive to make the Seven Kingdoms a place where nobles and smallfolk can live in peace and prosperity. You are the one for me, Dany. I am so lucky that the love of my heart and the right Queen for Westeros is one and the same person: you, you are... everything. You are it."
  
  He had felt her tremble in his arms and his left hand had stroked her back in a soothing manner. Moments later he had heard her sigh of contentment before she had spoken.
  
  "Yes, of course I will marry you. Yes, yes and yes. And there is nothing to forgive, Aegon. You were right not to make a hasty decision."
  
  She hadn't been able to elaborate because he had tilted her chin a bit higher and had kissed her reverently, still taking care not to ruin her braids."
  
  "Then we are betrothed, my dear. No formal announcements yet, except to the members of our small council tomorrow but that is all. We will marry after the Iron Throne is ours."
  
  "Ours," She had sighed and had snuggled closer to him not caring that her dress got a bit wrinkled.
  
  "Ours," he had affirmed. "Now I do not know about you but I am starting to feel hungry. Besides, I reckon we have a Great Hall filled with people that are expecting us."
  
  Ser Barristan who had stood outside Dany's door had nodded at them when they had left her room and had followed them to the Great Hall. He had tried to keep his face blank befitting a Kingsguard following the royals he was protecting. But those who knew him well would have seen by his relaxed features and the light in his eyes that the old knight was very happy that moment. He had been ever since Irri had left the room and he had heard his Prince proposing to Princess Daenerys before the door closed behind her handmaiden.
  
  "Our Prince can affirm that that is true. Isn't that right?" Jon startled out of his reverie when Prince Oberyn nudged his shoulder. "Hey Prince Aegon, were you wool-gathering?"
  
  Prince Oberyn noticed the entwined hands on Jon's lap. "I see. You are forgiven, my Prince. Nothing but a beautiful lady to make dreamers out of the fiercest warriors. How skilled have you gotten with a longspear, Prince Aegon? " He challenged the Targaryen Prince.
  
  "Not as skilled as I would like, but I welcome the challenge and will oblige you if afterwards you agree to let me take on your longspear with my sword and shield for at least one bout." Jon didn't hesitate to grasp the opportunity to spar with the elusive Dornish Prince.
  
  "Just let me sleep on that for a sennight or so." Prince Oberyn's playfully sidestepped Jon's familiar request once again. "I'll get back to you on that. For now, I will try to get up early enough to watch you train. Ser Arthur told me it is quite the sight."
  
  "I try." Jon said smiling and teased. "At least I will be more productive than you the coming days."
  
  "But I already have my reputation, young one. You are just beginning to build your legacy. Come to me for advice anytime you want. I am a fountain of wisdom," he boasted grinning from ear to ear.
  
  Prince Oberyn filled his cup with red Dornish wine and lifted it, loudly calling for silence.
  
  "Let us all drink to the health of Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, rightful heir to the Iron Throne and soon to be the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail Aegon Targaryen, long may he reign!"
  
  "Long may he reign, long may he reign."
  
  The next morning, Jon saw Dany only fleetingly when they broke their fast together very early in the Great Hall. Only Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Irri were present. Dany and Jon left the table after she promised to take a walk with him after supper that evening. Dany was set to go to the Driftmark for most of the day.
  
  Jon and Ser Arthur headed for the training yard where Ser Oswell joined them soon after. Next up would be a small council meeting and the afternoon was reserved for private audiences. The noble families would all get chance to speak with the Prince without the entire court present.
  
  Jon performed his training complete with muscle building exercises that had become a routine now. Ser Arthur who observed them for the first time was pleased with his enhanced strength but cautioned him when he observed the intensity of some of the routines Jon was performing.
  
  "Careful not to strain your muscles, my Prince. Your body is still developing. Your joints and ligaments have trouble enough adjusting to your grow spurt. I would advise you not to run around with that much weight. Spare your knees for now. In a year or two you will be less vulnerable to injuries."
  
  A while later, Ser Gerold came out and asked them stop the session for today and join them in the room with the painted table as soon as they had freshened up.
  
  Davos and his three Kingsguards all took seats facing him. Sam sat down next to Jon and started to place his writing material in front of him, covering the part that depicted the Fingers in doing so. Jon was amused by the symbolism of that little act. Even more when he noticed he sat at the exact spot where King's Landing and Dragonstone were painted.
  
  The seating arrangements seemed a bit off though. He would have preferred to have Davos on his side of the table. He shook his head trying to lose these silly notions. This was no negotiation between opponents. They were all friends working together towards a common goal.
  
  "Ser Barristan has accompanied the Princess to the Driftmark of course." Ser Gerold remarked when he detected Jon eying them one by one.
  
  Jon nodded. "Who will start?"
  
  "Perhaps you should." Davos spoke up. "Tell us briefly what happened at your end and we will do the same after."
  
  "Not too briefly" Ser Arthur objected. "I am rather curious."
  
  "Well," Jon started to tell them in detail about Robb's rescue and the reactions of the Northern Lords. He was briefer when he mentioned the murder of Lord Roose Bolton, Ramsay Snow's execution and Domeric Bolton and Theon Greyjoy's predicament.
  
  "That is all rather good news, my Prince." Ser Oswell ventured. "You even got the Lords of the North to pledge their support to fight an enemy they don't necessarily believe in."
  
  Jon nodded at Ser Oswell. "Uncle Benjen played his part. My cousin Robb deserves credit as well."
  
  "You visited Winterfell next and then Eastwatch?" Davos encouraged them to move along.
  
  Jon looked over at Sam who was scribbling fervently. "Are you ready to tackle the next subject, Sam?"
  
  "Don't worry on my account. I am only recording some key words. I will fill out the rest from memory later." Sam smiled encouragingly at Jon
  
  Jon nodded appreciatively and proceeded to tell them of the welcome he had received at Eastwatch. He described Gendry's enormous efforts and the crates filled with dragonglass weapons. Then he moved on and told them about the plans he had made with Mance Rayder and the promises of reinforcement that surely were on their way to Hardhome by now led by Tormund and Sandor.
  
  "I am glad the Night's Watch has come to its senses. The ravens you sent us from Castle Black were reassuring as well in that regard at least." Ser Gerold remarked.
  
  "Did you really broker a truce with Prince Renly and later with Jaime Lannister?" Davos asked.
  
  "I did." Jon affirmed and recounted parts of his conversation with both men. Then he looked at Ser Arthur and smiled. "I beat him in a sparring session, if only barely. It was fun though. He fights well. I recognised your teachings."
  
  "I spent enough time polishing his style and would be disappointed if that was not the case. He was my most promising pupil before I started to teach you, my Prince." Ser Arthur's tone was serious.
  
  "We were both lucky to have such an excellent teacher." Jon nodded appreciatively to the knight.
  
  "If you are done complementing each other, I am curious to hear what happened at Pyke and what concessions you made to the Greyjoys." Davos interfered. "Your message was rather sparse, my Prince."
  
  "That is because there was hardly anything to tell. I would inform you that everything went exactly according to plan for once, but not even our plans included the fact that they would surrender without putting up at least a semblance of a fight." Jon looked at his Lord Commander. "Didn't you caution me time and time again not to expect fair play and to be prepared for nothing but absolute ruthlessness and cruelty from the Ironborn, Ser Gerold?"
  
  Seeing Ser Gerold nod he continued. "The men stationed on Pyke had all gathered on the shore close to the spot where the ships of Yara Greyjoy were planning to dock. It was a sight to be seen. The soldiers wearing the sigil of the Golden Company marched on the beach led by Yara Greyjoy. I flew over their heads as low as I dared with the two dragons. When Yara Greyjoy approached the ranks of the Ironborn loyal to Euron Greyjoy who had come out to defend Pyke, we all expected their leader to step forward to negotiate. Instead his men all threw down their weapons, kneeled right there on the beach and swore fealty to her."
  
  "Just like that?" Sam had stopped scribbling and looked at Jon. "Because of your dragons?"
  
  "Just like that." Jon affirmed. "To be honest, I think neither the dragons, nor the presence of the fake Golden Company recruits had much to do with it. Rumours about Euron Greyjoy's cruel treatment of his men had spread on Pyke and I think they all sought Yara Greyjoy's protection from his wrath. It was rather anticlimactic. All that show and effort just for nothing."
  
  "Not for nothing. The rumours will help Strickland." Ser Oswell remarked.
  
  "You did sit down with Yara Greyjoy and made arrangements, I trust?" Davos asked his Prince. "Euron Greyjoy is still out there and will retaliate."
  
  "I want to know as well." Ser Gerold stated still a bit chafed about being somewhat off with his initial evaluation of the threat.
  
  "She is keeping tabs on her uncle's whereabouts as she has been doing the entire time. He is still east of Westeros, far away from the Iron Islands. She is more worried about him doing something desperate and attacking us or King Robert than of him coming after her in the near future. There are rumours that her uncle is considering an alliance with the Stormlands."
  
  "Did she make any demands on us? Did she ask for her brother to be returned to her?" Ser Oswell was tapping his fingers on the table. Jon was amused to see he was hitting the exact spot where the Iron Islands were situated on the painted table.
  
  "She asked." Jon admitted. "Respectfully," he added. "She cursed Theon when I told her what he had done to one of her allies. I even had to calm her down and describe to her the punishment he already suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow."
  
  "What was decided, Jon?" Davos asked the only question that mattered. It served no purpose to keep dwelling on Theon Greyjoy's situation.
  
  "She rescinded her demand. Theon would not be welcome on the Iron Island if the men heard what had transpired. It would only be safe for him to return if he proved himself once more. She all but asked me to put him on the frontlines of one of my wars so he could redeem himself."
  
  "Ironborn." Ser Gerold's tone conveyed it all.
  
  "Will Yara Greyjoy honour her part of the agreement and live of trade instead of raids?" Davos formulated his question more precisely since he still hadn't learned the information he had asked for.
  
  "I have her written word, Davos." Jon looked at his hand. "I received it before I agreed to help her. I wrote you that already. There was no time and no need to discuss these things in detail again. I can send an ambassador over later once I have established my position in King's Landing."
  
  "And then you lingered at Greywater Watch and had us all worried." Ser Arthur changed the subject but not necessarily to an easier one for Jon.
  
  Once more all eyes were looking at him, everyone longing to hear what had caused the delay. Last night when Sam had mentioned the subject during supper, Jon's expression had gone blank and he told his friend that an explanation was best left for another time.
  
  "It was not my initial intent to stay an extra day." Jon responded after a significant pause. He sighed. "I reckoned I would still arrive before a raven with a message could reach you when I made the decision to stay a bit longer."
  
  "Why did you stay longer, Jon?" Sam repeated his question of the night before. He had dropped his quill and looked at his friend a worried expression on his face. "What did he see this time? Is it bad news?"
  
  Jon looked at Sam and fought his reluctance to share the information. They all needed to know soon enough. There was no way around it. Better do it now and be done with it.
  
  "It was not so much what Lord Reeds saw. I was summoned because of visions Bran, my little cousin received from the Gods and uh what I dreamed as well. We combined all our information and it was, uh how shall I put it." Jon ran his hand over his face, "uh revealing, and at the same time raising more questions than ever."
  
  "Jon," Davos friendly warning to get on with it coincided with Ser Gerold's exasperated "My Prince!"
  
  Jon frowned. "I'll tell you. Just bear with me. I am still dealing with the enormity of it all and am not done trying to make sense of some of it."
  
  He looked around and saw the expectation on their faces was still there but even Ser Gerold's stern stare had softened.
  
  "First of all, the fight against the army of the dead that will happen near Hardhome soon will not be the final fight against this enemy. There is a place in the far north where their leader resides. A place protected by magic. This Commander of the White Walkers has sent half of his forces to confront us on the eastern shores. If we survive this battle, the final fight will take place after I am King. My vision was identical to Bran Stark's. Only a King can defeat a King."
  
  Jon paused and noticed everyone was looking glum. When Ser Gerold wanted to interfere, Jon shook his head. "There is more." He said simply and it was enough to make Ser Gerold keep silent.
  
  "I had a vision myself. I am on the battle field wearing the same kingly armour made of Valyrian steel complete with red rubies that my father, Prince Rhaegar wore according to your descriptions. I can't see my army, only lots of ice and fire and I know I am about to face him. I do not know when it will happen, it might happen in six moons, ten years from now or even later, but it will happen in my lifetime at a time when I am recognised as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the protector of the realm. I didn't see the outcome of the fight." Jon stopped and waited for their reactions.
  
  "Are we to understand this vision was not confirmed by anything young Bran or Lord Reed saw?" Davos looked troubled by all he had heard.
  
  "Not that particular one no. Bran saw their leader only when he held the baby. He could confirm I was the hero born to defeat him. He also confirmed I would only have a chance once I was a King in my own right. He felt the exact same words as I did: ' A King to defeat a King .' He did see something that gives us leave to me hope. He had a vision of me, wearing a crown atop of grey curls. If that is true..."
  
  "The Gods be praised." Ser Oswell exclaimed. "You should have led with that. If we know you will reign for many years then all of this, all this trouble with an undead enemy, is just a little delay on the road to our life's goal."
  
  "Fifty thousand dead corpses all intent on murdering our future King so he will not take on their leader is not just a little delay. Not to mention he will need to return at some unknown time in the future and fight the same enemy all over again." Ser Gerold reprimanded Ser Oswell.
  
  "The dead have a King." Sam mused thinking out loud apparently oblivious to the small altercation. "And he will fight you during the Long Night, in darkness. That would fit the northern tales. You fighting him with fire present, well Azor Ahai had a flaming sword. Both tales end with the hero defeating this mighty enemy, Jon." His voice rose higher when he pronounced his last words and he looked up at the others with hope in his eyes.
  
  "But this is no tale, Sam. This is fucking reality." Jon heard himself swear but didn't pause to apologise. "If I fail, if I make one stupid mistake." He shuddered. "Then there is my cousin's vision of me attending King Robert's deathbed."
  
  "Come again?" Davos leaned across the table covering Lannisport with his weather worn hands.
  
  "That was the primary reason they summoned me. Bran had a greendream of King Robert lying in a bed in his royal chambers. The man was dying. My uncle, Ned Stark was in attendance but had his head bowed. Bran could not distinguish whether he was older than he is now. But more troublesome, Bran described a young man kneeling on the ground holding the King's hand in his. Since he was positioned on the opposite side of the bed, Bran Stark could only see his back."
  
  "Then it is not certain it was you." Ser Arthur ventured.
  
  "I asked my little cousin to describe what the man was wearing. He saw my black curls. He described my coat including the pattern on my fur collar. He even told me the colour of my belt and my boots. It was me. Somehow, I cannot explain how or why but somehow I feel deep down that this will come to pass, that I will be part of that scene. My cousin outdid himself with his description. I am certain it was me."
  
  Jon voice was getting desperate. He looked at Davos with beseeching eyes. "I was holding the King's hand and knelt before him. It was me. I know it was me." He repeated.
  
  "Calm down, son." Davos said his voice soothing. He had resumed his former position and leaned against the back of his chair. "Let us just try to look at this from all angles." A deep frown appeared on his forehead. He looked deep in thought.
  
  Everyone waited for him to speak.
  
  "Let us first concentrate on all the positives. If the vision proves true, your uncle Ned is still alive when the King is on his death bed. We have been worried about his safety lately. You should hear the rumours in King's Landing. We are cutting it close, Jon, if you are still going to give the fight at Hardhome precedence."
  
  Sam looked up now. "Of what did he die? Do you now that, Jon? Was he sick, was he attacked, did he have an accident?"
  
  "How would I know, Sam? I told you all I know. Except for the fact that the King had a night cap covering his hair."
  
  "Just asking." Sam muttered. "What other positives do you derive from this situation, Ser Davos?"
  
  "Well, our Prince arrived at the Red Keep alive and well and apparently was on was good terms with the Baratheon King." Noticing Jon's questioning look he added. "Kneeling beside a man's deathbed and holding his hand is most likely an act of compassion, not one of a subject swearing fealty to a monarch, my Prince."
  
  "Of course he would never submit to the Baratheon usurper!" Ser Oswell burst out.
  
  "He might to save the lives of his loved ones, of the smallfolk if they were threatened." Ser Arthur remarked looking at his brothers. "We all know our Prince's kind heart."
  
  "But we do not know how far away in the future this might happen or whether this might come to pass precisely so." Sam cautioned. "Lord Reed often warns us not to take these things literally. This particular vision was one only young Bran Stark experienced right? Can it be that your cousin confused a common dream with a greendream?" Sam turned to Jon looking a bit apologetic for daring to suggest such a thing.
  
  "Not in this instance. My cousin had several visions at once. That one occurred midway through uh during several flashes that leave no doubt it was no ordinary dream. Besides, you feel the difference between a normal dream and a greendream. Trust me on that. I know this all too well."
  
  Sam nodded. "Just asking. I wanted to make sure. Then we better try to derive the most of it."
  
  "Perhaps our Prince has already been crowned King and Robert Baratheon is a captive, dying of his injuries sustained when he was overthrown. Our compassionate Prince has agreed to let him spend his last hours in his own quarters." Ser Arthur suggested.
  
  "That doesn't feel right somehow." Jon muttered. "Anyway, all these revelations and subsequent feelings and premonitions I had about this made me accept the offer of Lord Reed to learn some techniques to encourage and prolong these so-called messages that the Gods send me personally. That is the reason I stayed a whole day longer."
  
  "You said Bran had several visions during a single session. Anything else we should know about?" Davos wanted to know.
  
  Jon glad to focus on something else released a deep breath. "Perhaps. Bran was kind of an eye witness to a scene from the past where Littlefinger handed a small bottle with Tears of Lys, the poison that killed Lord Arryn over to Lady Lysa. The fact that he mentioned the poison by name makes me believe it might be a warning from the Gods. Perhaps Varys should make sure Maester Pycelle does not have other bottles of that stuff lying around for someone to use. He should be forbidden to make more."
  
  "I'll write to Varys today." Sam promised. "That is indeed a wise precaution. Perhaps we should regulate the use of poison by royal decree once you are King, Jon."
  
  "You can regulate all you want. Prince Oberyn will not be bothered by it in the least." Ser Arthur remarked.
  
  Several surprised pair of eyes now stared at Ser Arthur.
  
  "Don't tell me you don't know he sometimes dabbles with potions and poisons for all kinds of purposes." He added rolling his eyes.
  
  "We have issues enough to handle for now. No use in wasting time debating royal decrees to be issued in the future. Besides Prince Oberyn is firmly on our side." Davos interfered. "Anything else you learned at Greywater Watch, Jon?"
  
  "Aside from telling me how in love my parents were and how lovely my mother looked on her wedding day and the confirmation that the Mad King indeed threatened the capital's destruction by wildfire as Jaime Lannister told me, there was this vision of the leader of the White Walkers."
  
  "The Night King," Sam offered.
  
  "Night King?" Jon turned to his friend.
  
  "Well, you said it yourself. A King to defeat a King and he is a creature that is strongest at night and wants to bring the Long Night. So I thought it an easier term than the Commander of the White Walkers or the General of the Dead." Sam smiled hesitantly.
  
  "All right, let us call him the Night King." Jon granted Sam this small victory. "Now back to Bran's vision. This Night King had a healthy baby boy in his arms and touched the child's cheek with an icy finger upon which the child became an icy creature with blue eyes."
  
  "A baby wight?" Ser Oswell asked perplexed.
  
  "No not a wight. More like a baby White Walker." Jon explained.
  
  "Craster's male offspring!" Davos thumped his fist on the table making Lannisport shake. "I bet most of these White Walkers are related to that vile daughter-rapist."
  
  "So are you saying that if they do not kill humans, they can turn them into icy creatures like themselves?" Ser Arthur asked.
  
  "I think so, but hopefully only this Night King has such strong magic." Jon hesitated to say more.
  
  "Perhaps they can only do it with new-borns." Sam ventured. "They still have a clean slate, haven't learned any behaviour yet, do not have a memory or the awareness to recognise an enemy and protect their minds."
  
  "That knowledge doesn't really help us though." Ser Gerold shook his head.
  
  "Perhaps it does." Davos told him. "It reveals a weakness. They cannot procreate. Their numbers are limited."
  
  "And the Free Folk should protect their new-borns." Sam chimed in.
  
  "That reminds me, Tormund just became a father. He has a son and has the intention to call him Jon when the infant reaches his second nameday." Jon smiled.
  
  "I am trying to picture it." Ser Arthur spoke up, his eyes having a faraway look. "A tiny redhaired baby in those giant hands."
  
  "He had no qualms in grabbing it from its mother's arms and didn't lower his voice, both acts startling the small baby and Tormund's only reaction was to laugh proudly when his son started crying rather loudly. It was indeed an uncommon picture." Jon relaxed glad for the short reprieve.
  
  "Have you finished your report, my Prince? You can tell us more about Tormund's child later, or during mealtime. Any other visions?" Ser Gerold prodded.
  
  "Nothing that affects our cause." Jon answered. "I think that concludes my report. The important thing is that I need to get back to Eastwatch or rather Hardhome and help prepare the traps before the enemy arrives. Can you hold the fort here for another moon?"
  
  "Eddard Stark will not be best pleased, Varys neither."
  
  "You can include me on that list." Ser Gerold remarked. "My Prince, the rumours are growing. We have gathered plenty of support. Give us two more sennights and we will have support in abundance for you in King's Landing as well as organised a line of defense within the walls of the Red Keep itself. Are you sure you cannot not take the throne and return to the North as the newly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms? Perhaps you can challenge this Night King right there and then, make him come out of hiding and defeat this enemy once and for all."
  
  "What if complications arise? What if I am crowned, leave the next day and we cannot appease the smallfolk, the nobles who are still deciding? What if Stannis Baratheon uses my absence to his advantage?"
  
  "I am inclined to agree with our Prince." Davos challenged Ser Gerold's suggestion. "According to me the best case scenario is that our Prince flies north and defeats the fifty thousand that are attacking. Then he returns within two sennights from leaving and takes the throne. We all help him secure the Seven Kingdoms. All the while, the Free Folk monitor the situation beyond the Wall and we fight against this Night King and his army with the combined support of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "We need not decide this very minute." Jon tried to make them see reason and continue the meeting. "Fill me in on the political situation here first. I expect Varys to arrive within the next few days. Perhaps everything will work itself out. They are distracted in King's Landing since they are in the midst of preparing a large tournament, aren't they?" Jon asked Ser Gerold.
  
  "They are. It was a good cover for us to invite more allies into the city without raising suspicion." Ser Gerold took out a scroll and began enumerating the extent of the support already in place and what they were still working on.
  
  Jon did his best trying to follow the major names but some were entirely new to him. "Perhaps we can go over them the next few days in detail? I want to study the background and allies of each one of them so I know how to comport myself when I meet them."
  
  "Commendable." Davos nodded his head in apparent approval. "We will all help you with the ones we know best. We hail from different parts of Westeros. Use it to your advantage."
  
  "Yohn Royce can't leave the capital but will send a delegation of Vale knights to meet you." Ser Oswell remarked. "We will need to be careful. All these nobles we are expecting over the next few days might be spotted."
  
  "That has been arranged. Some are supposedly visiting relatives, the others are coming to the Driftmark or Dragonstone under the pretext that they heard the blacksmiths here are competent and the ones in King's Landing can't keep up with the extra business of all the knights either shopping for the right armour for the tournament or needing some adjustments made to their current armour at the last moment."
  
  "The tournament," Jon asked clearly interested. "When will it be held?"
  
  "Don't even think about it, lad." Davos shook his head. "We already had to talk sense into Ser Arthur. He wanted to participate as mystery guest in a disguise. He talked of painting his hair blue and posing as an Essosi knight."
  
  "I was only joking." Ser Arthur muttered.
  
  "For the most part perhaps." Ser Gerold retorted. "Don't tell us you wouldn't go the moment you thought you could get away with it."
  
  "Can't he though?" Jon looked thoughtful.
  
  "No, Jon." Ser Arthur was the one to put an end to his own dreams. "I would be recognised the first time they saw me fight. I do not want to boast but,..."
  
  "I get it." Jon said. "You are right. Eighteen years is not that long and you were, I mean are a legend. You only have to wait for the first tournament under the new Targaryen reign. I promise not to compete myself. Wouldn't want to compromise your chances. " Jon said that last sentence in a mocking tone.
  
  Ser Gerold rolled his eyes. "I can still beat either of you in the joust easily. And don't forget Ser Oswell's achievements. Now, can we get back to the order of the day? Let us finish discussing the situation in King's Landing. We can talk about the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne another day."
  
  "And go over the lists of the support we expect from the Kingdoms that have already joined our cause." Davos chimed in.
  
  "And hope there is still some daylight left by the time we finish so I can visit my dragons." Jon whispered to Sam.
  
  "And before my fingers start cramping around this quill." Sam whispered back and both young men exchanged smiles.
  
  "King's Landing then," Jon addressed Davos now. "Tell me about Uncle Ned. How are he and the King governing my Kingdoms?"
  
  "Perhaps we should wait and discuss this when Varys is here. I expect him the day after tomorrow. Then we have a firsthand report." Davos suggested.
  
  Jon nodded gratefully. "Excellent. Then we can adjourn this meeting after the announcement I still wanted to make."
  
  Everyone looked at him expectantly.
  
  "First of all, tomorrow I am not available for any meetings, be it a small council meeting or private audiences with recently arrived Lords and their families. I still intend to show up for my daily training session but afterwards I will accompany Princess Daenerys when she makes her rounds of the workshops here on Dragonstone. I will also visit the ships, meet with some of the crew. I intend to partake in the evening entertainment of the smallfolk. The bonfires on the beach." He added when Ser Gerold frowned. "I will remain alert and you can all join me on the beach if you deem it necessary for my protection."
  
  "Count me in." Davos looked interested.
  
  "I will go as well." Sam had stopped scribbling a while ago.
  
  "And secondly, you may all congratulate me. The Princess Daenerys and I are betrothed. I asked her to marry me yesterday before supper and she accepted." Jon smiled broadly but his eyes were observing the reaction to his words closely.
  
  "Damn," Ser Oswell cursed.
  
  "Who won the bet?" Ser Gerold frowned.
  
  "Varys, I think," Davos answered and chuckled. "Come on you twats, stop teasing and congratulate the boy already. He only gets betrothed to a lovely Princess once."
  
  Chairs scraped over the stone floor when they all got up and hurried to the side of the table where Jon now beamed from ear to ear. He had never thought his announcement would be that easily accepted. The moment he got pulled from his chair and was caught in his first embrace he realised Sam was nowhere to be seen. Davos mushed up his hair, Ser Gerold patted his back, Ser Oswell shook his hand enthusiastically and Ser Arthur hugged him within an inch of his life."
  
  "If you need any advice, don't go to these knights, lad. Just come to me. I can tell you all you need to know and then some." Davos chuckled.
  
  When they finally retreated to their side of the table Jon's eyes turned back to the door and was relieved to see Sam returning. His friend carried a platter containing a pitcher filled with ale and five large beakers.
  
  "I thought this merited a toast and I brought Jon's drink of choice." He smiled happily.
  
  "Put that thing down, Sam. You owe me a congratulatory hug." Jon ordered.
  
  Sam didn't hesitate. He asked Ser Arthur to do the honours and the two friends embraced. "I wish you all the luck in the realm, Jon. I am very happy for you. Does anyone else know?"
  
  "Aside from Dany who might have told Ser Barristan, no. Some might suspect but nobody has been told official, present company excepted. We will not announce it yet. Dany and I want to marry after the Iron Throne has been restored to House Targaryen."
  
  Jon looked at Davos when he said the next words. "We had been thinking to hold a joint wedding/coronation ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor. I will marry her before the Old Gods and a few witnesses in the Godswood the night before. We mean to keep that part private. You are all invited to the Godswood wedding of course but don't spread the word."
  
  "My, my, how long have you been planning this?" Ser Gerold exclaimed. "Too bad though. If you had acted a bit sooner, I might have won the bet.
  
  That afternoon Jon sat on the throne where many a Prince of Dragonstone had held court and gestured for the first visitors to be allowed to enter the Great Hall. This time, the Great Hall was empty except for Ser Arthur who stood before the throne slightly to Jon's right, Ser Oswell identically positioned to his left and the houseguards posted at every entrance. The large doors opened and an elderly man accompanied by a middle aged couple approached and bowed before the steps of his throne.
  
  After leaving the room with the painted table, Jon had opted to lunch quietly in his quarters with only Sam for company. Sam had used the opportunity to brief him about the visitors that would be brought before him that afternoon. The first ones to have been granted an audience with the Prince of Dragonstone was Lord Celtigar, head of House Celtigar of Claw Isle. Sam had informed him how the elderly man was connected to Jon's foster-grandmother.
  
  "The current Lord Celtigar is named after his ancestor, Alton Celtigar who served as Hand of the King to Aegon the Conqueror. Your foster-grandfather was his uncle but as you know your foster-grandfather was only a third son and left Claw Isle when he married the daughter of Lord Velaryon. The young Lord opted to live with his wife at the Driftmark. House Celtigar of Claw Isle is a very rich house. What might interest you is that they possess an axe of Valyrian steel. The Lord is accompanied by his son Adrian Celtigar and his good-daughter. Apparently the couple has five children four girls and one boy but the children stayed behind on Claw Isle."
  
  Jon straightened his back and closely studied the approaching elderly Lord looking for some resemblance with the vague picture he had of his foster-grandfather who had died when Jon was still rather young.
  
  "Lord Alton Celtigar at your service, my King." The frail looking Lord bowed and needed his son's help to regain his normal standing position.
  
  "Allow me to present my son, Lord Adrian Celtigar and his wife Elinda formerly of House Massey."
  
  "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Celtigar. It is nice to meet relatives of my foster-grandparents. But please, address me as 'my Prince' for now. I am not a King yet." Jon was getting a bit tired of hearing himself repeat this sentence here at Dragonstone. He should ask Davos, or Sam to warn the visitors of the correct way that he wished to be addressed for now.
  
  "If we had known you needed sanctuary so shortly after you were born, we would have been glad to take you in, my Prince. We would have given you surroundings fit for a King instead of"
  
  "I was happy and could live in complete anonymity at the Driftmark." Jon cut him off before the man could disparage the loving home he had found at the Driftmark. "It was a very good solution. An ideal spot to raise my dragons and the people there were and still are extremely loyal to me. It is in the past anyway and everything turned out well." Jon's polite smile was a bit forced.
  
  "What is done is done." Lord Celtigar agreed. "If there is anything we can do to contribute to your cause now, just say the word. All we have is at your disposal."
  
  "That is a very generous offer. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I thank you Lord Celtigar. Now tell me, is it true that House Celtigar is the owner of a magnificent axe made of Valyrian steel?" Jon leaned a bit forward.
  
  "We are, your Grace. But we have much more beautiful treasures. I have brought a few rubies as a gift to decorate your armour. That way it can be just like your father's, Prince Rhaegar."
  
  The head of House Celtigar handed Ser Arthur a small velvet bag and Ser Arthur in turn approached his Prince and handed him the precious objects. Jon put one ruby in the palm of his hand to admire it up close. It was a thing of beauty and there were at least eight similar stones inside the small pouch. He wondered just how rich House Celtigar actually was.
  
  "I thank you, Lord Celtigar. I appreciate the thoughtfulness even more than the beauty of the gift. "I will make sure they will adorn my new still to be forged armour and will ask the blacksmith to incorporate them at the exact same spots as red rubies that once adorned the armour of my excellent father."
  
  Jon put the ruby back with the others in the velvet pouch and handed it to Ser Arthur again.
  
  "Might I ask for a favour, Lord Celtigar? Would you be willing to send for the axe? I would like to admire it up close."
  
  His son frowned when Jon made the request but the elderly Lord Celtigar once more made a painfully looking bow and promised to send a raven to Claw Isle immediately.
  
  At that moment, footsteps echoed in the Great Hall and Jon looked up to see Davos approach his throne and mount the steps. The knight whispered in his Prince's ear that it was time to receive the next delegation.
  
  Jon rose from his throne to signal the end of the interview. "I hope you have a pleasant stay at Dragonstone, my Lords and my Lady. I am sorry to cut the interview short but several others are awaiting an audience with me."
  
  The elder Lord Celtigar, his son and the latter's wife bowed one last time to the Targaryen Prince and followed Davos who led the way to the large doors.
  
  Lord Daeron Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway request an audience, my Prince," Davos announced when the next visitors entered.
  
  Interlude 30: The Viper and the Queen of Thorns
  
  Prince Oberyn looked forward to getting off the ship. This was the last time he travelled this far by boat if he could help it. He had already run out of most of his jokes and stunts to tease his fellow passengers with before they were even halfway. The captain had reprimanded him and warned the Prince more than once that nobody would be willing to keep him company anymore if he kept up his current behaviour. Oberyn had tried to act a bit more circumspect for the rest of the journey and with the exception of a limited number of rewarding pranks he had mostly kept his word even if as a result he had been bored as the Seven Hells.
  
  He fondly remembered using one of his potions to remove the inhibitions of his fellow travellers on their first evenings on the boat and had learned many secrets. A bonus had been that he had also discovered a potential male lover that way and had at least been able to satisfy his carnal needs during his long forced confinement. Not having much in way of other distractions, the Prince had finished every book he had brought with him in no time and had swindled his co-travellers out of the ones they had brought along.
  
  Finally things were looking up now. They had almost arrived. He looked forward to his reunion with Ellaria, his paramour. He was sure she would be eagerly awaiting his arrival as well. He had sent word to Varys by means of one of the special ravens he had brought along with him on the ship.
  
  Almost instantly he had regretted his decision of travelling directly to King's Landing to win a few meagre days. The better choice would have been to travel alongside Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur. They at least could have kept him entertained with stories of their years with the Targaryen Prince. Prince Oberyn for some reason had grown very fond of the young man. He had been counting the days until he could leave this floating trap behind and could start helping the Targaryen cause again. The opportunity came sooner than expected.
  
  Finally safely moored at the docks of the capital, he had not taken more than a few steps ashore before he was accosted by a servant. The man offered to take his bags and promised to escort him and his belongings to an inn where a Lady waited for him. Prince Oberyn only too willing to accept his offer nodded with a broad smile on his face and asked the servant to hurry.
  
  The smile left his face the very moment he entered the small establishment. Instead of falling into the long awaited loving arms of his paramour, he looked into the wrinkled face and cunning eyes of the Queen of Thorns.
  
  "Please be seated, Prince Oberyn. I ordered the finest wine available in this establishment. Come now, join me. We need to talk."
  
  Lady Olenna Tyrell sat on a modest looking chair, her back straight, her elaborate dress carefully arranged about her, one hand leaning stately on an exquisite carved walking stick. Prince Oberyn took in her stately posture making the mental note that she treated the simple wooden chair exactly as she would the Iron Throne. 'Not that the old shrew would ever get near it. Certainly not while he drew breath!'
  
  "My Lady, although you may be right, forgive me for being blunt and state my disappointment. I was looking for someone else to greet me after such a long voyage. Can our encounter not be delayed for a day at least so I can greet my paramour who is bound to be even more eager to see me than you are." He needed all his self-control to mask the extent of his dismay and disillusionment.
  
  "Sit down, Prince Oberyn. If you keep standing about like that you are causing an old lady a stiff neck." When she saw him stiffen at her commanding tone, she changed tactics.
  
  "Come now, this won't take long. The sooner you sit down, the sooner you can leave here and find... her." She wrinkled her nose and sniffed disapprovingly.
  
  Prince Oberyn ignored the slight, used to people condemning his long standing affair with a Dornish bastard. "I might as well grant you your request and will even admit to being curious. I didn't know we were on such good terms for you to go to such great length as to seek me out at the docks."
  
  He sat down and accepted a glass of wine. "Just the one glass though," he warned her and took a sip. "This is indeed excellent wine. Much better than what I was forced to drink on the ship. May I enquire as to how you knew I was arriving today?" He sat back. Now that he had decided to oblige her, he was already looking for ways to play with her and to get some naughty pleasure out of this encounter.
  
  "Varys was so kind as to answer my questions. On this subject at least." She pursed her lips. Clearly Varys had not done her the courtesy of obliging her very often.
  
  "Now what can I do for you, Lady Tyrell? As stated, I have not much time for inanities." He studied her closely. She seemed tense somehow and he was sure it was not solely caused by the elusiveness of the Master of Whispers. Surely she must be long used to the eunuch's elusive ways.
  
  "I gather you have met my grandsons in the North. I just want you to tell me what is going on over there and why my Loras is so intent on staying there. Has he found a new flame?"
  
  "I had the pleasure to meet both your grandsons at Winterfell. I hardly recognised them. Our houses do not frequent each other all that regularly, wouldn't you agree?" He smiled charmingly.
  
  Prince Oberyn could see small hints of her building irritation. The knuckles of her left hand holding her cane had turned white, her other hand was clenching the cup filled with wine to the brim a bit too tight. He hoped the innkeeper had used his sturdiest beaker. On the other hand, perhaps he should wish for the opposite? He needed to conceal his smile at the image of her crushing the beaker and spilling the red wine on her lavish, old fashioned but rather expensive looking gown.
  
  "I thought you had no time for games, Prince Oberyn." She had narrowed her eyes slightly. "Do you have any idea what is so interesting in the North that Loras is so adamant to stay there? At least Willas has recently left Winterfell and is on his way home."
  
  Prince Oberyn tapped his lower lip with his finger pretending to be deep in thought. "Well, as far as I know, Prince Renly is in the North. Isn't that incentive enough for your youngest grandson to stay put?"
  
  "Why were you in the North, Prince Oberyn? I do not tell me some bullshit about travelling and sightseeing. Are you man enough to come out and declare that you are in league with House Stark?" She had put her cup down rather forcefully without having taken even the tiniest sip. A bit of red liquid stained the otherwise pristine white cloth the innkeeper must have brought out on her demand because the other tables wore no such cover.
  
  "I consider myself a friend of House Stark. But mind you, I speak for myself. I speak neither for my brother nor for the Principality of Dorne." He enjoyed reminding her that her sons were mere Lords as opposed to the princely status of House Martell.
  
  "Why did you befriend House Stark if your brother does not follow suit?" The reply was curt but Oberyn could sense her frustration, it was almost tangible.
  
  "Haven't your grandsons written to you about some of what is happening in the North? Hasn't Varys or Lord Stark been able to persuade you of the merit of an alliance with House Stark yet? Are you really so headstrong, so unwilling to take a small risk? Are you so blind you cannot see a once in a lifetime opportunity when it presents itself?" He challenged her.
  
  She merely waved away his barbs and proceeded with her interrogation. "Have you heard of a certain Lord Celtigar my grandsons have encountered in the North?"
  
  "Of course I have. He is a most amiable young man. I have known him for several years now." Prince Oberyn smiled making a show of giving her the impression that he was reminiscing and it were all rather delightful memories that he conjured up.
  
  "Did you see him during your recent visit in the North?" She asked tersely glaring at him without blinking.
  
  "As a matter of fact, I did have that pleasure." He drew his words out. Prince Oberyn no longer regretted being held up by Lady Olenna. He was starting to enjoy himself immensely. He drank deeply from his cup, put the almost empty beaker slowly back on the table and smiled indulgingly at her.
  
  "My Loras has sworn his life away to that man." Lady Olenna answered after a pause. He could hear the exasperation in her voice.
  
  "I wouldn't call it that, my Lady. I never thought I would say this, but your youngest grandson is the smarter Tyrell apparently. Before hearing this news, I would have put my coin on Lord Willas."
  
  "Why are you so sure that Loras did a smart thing?" She had toned down the bitch act somewhat. Prince Oberyn might even have witnessed the early stages of pleading.
  
  "I can't tell you much. You should ask your grandsons. What I can tell you is that Lord Celtigar is an honourable man. Don't be misled by his name. What matters is that he is closely allied to House Stark. And for some reason, his word carries weight with the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark. He has many allies, many powerful friends and I am proud to call him a dear personal friend." He had talked to her as a teacher would to a student, his attitude bordering on being condescending.
  
  "And apparently Loras and Willas both fell for his schemes." There was no mistaking the bitterness in her tone of voice now.
  
  "Why do you think the man is scheming? Not everyone is like you and me." He responded. "Did you not hear me when I told you he is most honourable? Hells, if you saw him, you might mistake him for a scion of House Stark."
  
  He cursed himself inwardly the moment these words left his lips. He saw her facial expression change. The cunning look appeared once more though she tried to mask it with her next words. "This Lord Celtigar has persuaded our Loras somehow to give him precedence above his own house." She once more accused the Lord she had never met.
  
  "Knowing this Lord Celtigar, and make no mistake, I know him well, he will never ask Loras to turn against his kin. All this time playing the game, Lady Olenna and you are still on the fence." Prince Oberyn shook his head in mock disappointment. "Tut, tut, tut, I would have expected more of you. I reckon your granddaughter still isn't betrothed? No? Nor are any of your grandsons?" He shook his head and took delight in the deep frown that appeared on her already rather wrinkled forehead. "Be wary, indecision like that might make you miss some excellent opportunities. Soon it will be too late, Lady Olenna. And here I thought you were known as the Lady of Thorns. Old age has finally caught up with you it seems." He mocked her to his heart's content.
  
  Lady Olenna narrowed her eyes until they were mere slits. "Have you talked to Lord Eddard Stark?"
  
  "Not in some time, my Lady. I have been confined on a floating prison with boring company for sennights. If you do not mind, I will take my leave from you now so I can go find my dear Ellaria. I sincerely hope her welcome will be a bit warmer and consist of fewer words." He smiled suggestively at her and rose with feline grace.
  
  She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture no longer making the effort to disguise her dismay at the outcome of their discussion.
  
  Prince Oberyn bowed and left the inn knowing he had revealed just enough to let her know he was in on a big secret. He hoped he had managed to convey the impression that if she felt left out, it was all her own doing. Perhaps that would finally wake her up and accept an alliance with House Stark. Lady Margaery needed to be taken off the marriage market before the Queen of Thorns got a whiff of the true identity of Lord Celtigar.
  
  Ellaria's arms had been welcoming, very welcoming indeed and it had taken him two days before he made the effort to present himself at the court of the usurper. He had stayed just long enough to publicly accept the position on the small council in front of Robert Baratheon and a packed throne room before announcing he needed a sennight or perhaps two before he was able to attend his new duties. When the King ordered him to explain himself further, Prince Oberyn had smiled demurely and stated some personal matters needed to be seen to first since he had spent moons travelling the Northern Kingdom. Surely his Grace would understand?
  
  The Dornish Prince and his paramour had left King's Landing, and had stepped on a small boat he had hired solely for this purpose, not disclosing to anyone where they went until they had left the harbour. Varys was the only one who knew of his destination. The Master of Whispers had given him many messages to read from the True King. Prince Oberyn had also been tasked to relay that Lord Varys would follow him to Dragonstone in two days' time.
  
  Prince Aegon would be delighted to hear the steps he had undertaken to provide an adequate teacher for the Arya Stark. Instead of offering up one of his Sand Snakes, he had sent for the former First Sword of Braavos. He knew that the master fencer's water dancing style would suit the little cousin of the Targaryen Prince very well. Even more important, Syrio Forel would have no qualms in teaching a little girl as long as she was properly motivated and he was adequately recompensed for it. He had written Robb Stark to warn him of the swordfighter's arrival.
  
  To Robb of House Stark, heir of Winterfell, temporary regent of the North
  
  Lord Stark,
  
  Soon Syrio Forel, an Essosi master fencer with extraordinary credits will be knocking on the gates of Winterfell. I have hired him to teach your lady sister, Arya Stark a swordfighting style best suited to her physique. This was done on the express demand of Lord Celtigar. If your Lady Mother objects, tell her our mutual royal friend will have no trouble persuading your Lord Father and Hand of the King that your youngest sister would thrive in Dorne and that he will most surely persuade Lord Eddard Stark to send her little Arya for a long fostering term to Dorne with immediate effect.
  
  Prince Oberyn of House Martell, the Red Viper
  
  This time Oberyn didn't mind being trapped on a boat once again. It was only for two days and Ellaria would see to it he hardly noticed his surroundings anyway. Besides, he would soon see Prince Aegon again and also his dear youth friend, Ser Arthur. In the meanwhile he mulled over all he had learned from Varys and the contents of the Targaryen Prince's messages. Ripples of the rumours caused by the revelations after Robb's rescue were reaching the capital. Soon the usurper would learn of a dragonrider that had a claim to the Iron Throne but more importantly that his former betrothed had been the one to give Prince Rhaegar this precious son. The conspiracy was living on borrowed time.
  
  It was a challenge but Prince Oberyn would do everything he could to buy the Targaryen Prince the necessary time to be able to conclude his quest in the North. He had already come up with a few possible schemes and conferred with Varys. The eunuch had been on board straightaway with one of the more daring versions of his scheme, confessing he had been preparing a similar plan in secret.
  
  They both were of the opinion it was better to do this on their own and inform neither Prince Aegon nor his entourage. They also would make certain they took any measure necessary to prevent the Hand of the King from catching the slightest hint of what they were preparing. If all went well, the honourable Targaryen Prince and the stiff morally correct Hand of the usurper would be happy with the outcome and never know the true extent of the involvement of the ones they trusted as their closest allies.
  
  And Prince Oberyn counted himself as Prince Aegon's closest ally. Someone needed to protect the young idealistic, honourable Targaryen Prince from himself. Every ruler needed someone to take care of the dirtier business. And what Prince Aegon didn't know, wouldn't keep him up at night. It also provided the True King with the opportunity to deny any accusations levied at him with absolute honesty. He wouldn't have to feign his outrage at such accusations. Nobody would suspect that dear boy of foul play. It would all turn out for the best. The young Targaryen should bless the day Prince Oberyn of House Martell condescended to join his cause. That had been a very lucky day for all involved.
  
  One small thing he had already put in motion without waiting for Varys' advice. A trusted messenger, one of the team of messengers that had been carrying out little errands for the conspiracy over the years, had been dispatched to intercept Willas Tyrell. Prince Oberyn hoped the man was able to reach the port of the Riverlands in time. It would be very opportune to catch up with the Tyrell heir at Seagard and have him make a little detour.
  
  He stood at the railing with his arm around Ellaria's shoulder when the rough coastline of Dragonstone came into view. The Gods had been good lately to Prince Oberyn. And if he had any say in it, things would only get better from here on out. The days of the usurper's reign were finally up.
  
  End notes:
  
  The next chapter covers Jon's last days on Dragonstone before flying north to battle against the dead.
  
  In the interlude, Yohn Royce assists with tournament preparations in King's Landing
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Calm before the storm
  Chapter 31: Calm before the storm
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon's enjoys a few days of respite on Dragonstone before he will need to fly north to battle the dead.
  
  Yohn Royce's assistance is needed for more than just tournament preparations in King's Landing.
  
  Notes:
  
  I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Thank you all for sticking with me and for those who took the time to comment, thank you very much for the respectful and kind way you all approach me.
  
  Also as always I can't post a chapter without thanking my beta Ravenousreadr for her patience and encouragement. Thanks my friend.
  
  Thanks again to all of you who took the time to leave a review. I will react to a few here.
  
  To the Guest who said Jon never answered Ser Arthur's question: I think Ser Arthur is glad he dodged that one. I believe nobody really knows how one would react in such a situation until one actually has to. You can reason all you want. Your feelings will take over. You can never predict how you will react once you enter panic mode. Only fools claim they will keep a cool mind when confronted with such a situation.
  
  To the Guest who wants Jon to legalise Oberyn's daughters and his paramour: You felt the next scene coming I guess. The first scene of this chapter, Jon offers to do just that but Prince Oberyn dodges for the time being. I love Oberyn's character too, that much must be obvious by now. He (along with others) saves Jon from becoming a second Ned. And you are right, Oberyn and Varys are necessary to rescue these honourable men from the perils of the real world. Someone has to be prepared to do the dirty work.
  
  To the Guest who commented on Benjen and Olenna's story arch: Benjen will remain an integral part of the story, he is Jon's substitute father. And about Olenna, I think you will like what I have in store for her. Just wait and read 😉
  
  To the Guest who commented on Domeric Bolton's fate: You are on to something. Only Domeric will not be as creative as you when he comes up with a new name. He might be a bit more inventive when he designs a new sigil. But the jury is still out on that. He won't have the funds to tear down the Dreadfort and rebuild it. He will make an effort though to change its appearance a little bit.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  "At long last I found you."
  
  Prince Oberyn unceremoniously dropped down in the empty spot next to Jon. It was the exact same spot that had just been abandoned by Princess Daenerys. Jon's Kingsguards sat a bit further and kept Sam and Ser Davos company. They had all agreed to give the young couple some semblance of privacy even though Ser Gerold's eyes never wandered far from the location where his Prince was seated casually on the grass. The young couple had mingled amongst the smallfolk at first but after some time had retreated to a more secluded spot where they had been holding hands and sitting close to each other clearly enjoying this small break in their otherwise busy schedule.
  
  "You found me some time ago and waited until Princess Daenerys left me alone for a while." Jon answered not looking at Prince Oberyn, his eyes following Dany who was walking away from him to chat with a few girls of the village.
  
  As planned, they were all spending the evening on the beach and had joined the smallfolk's daily evening reunion. There was a kind of system in place that allowed twenty of these loyal simple folk to feast in the Great Hall. Sam had appointed a retired knight to organise this so that everyone got his fair turn. As long as the weather held, the rest of them preferred to join the now daily evening gatherings on the beach.
  
  "Guilty." The Dornish Prince chuckled. "You do realise a bunch of very disappointed Lords are feasting in the Great Hall, eating a delicious stew of I don't know what meat and drinking fine Dornish red. What have you eaten here?"
  
  "A rabbit I shot myself and some fish that was offered to me. All roasted over the fire to perfection. I was not missing out on anything." Jon smiled now and turned to face the Dornish Prince who in his colourful long coat seemed more out of place than Jon who blended in with the smallfolk, wearing the dark worn out training outfit he had put on before venturing out on the beach.
  
  "Not even a taste of this Dornish red? I can tell you I only brought the best. You just have to taste its rich flavour. It is a bit sour I grant you but that is the way real wine should be. Ladies favour sweet liquor. Us men prefer to have a stronger taste and effect. I heard you were an ale man mostly. Then you will prefer this wine to the sweeter Arbor Gold."
  
  "You had me convinced with your second sentence, Prince Oberyn. Just pour me a cup already." Jon chuckled as well.
  
  "Only if you omit the title and call me Oberyn. You are no longer a child and we are both Princes, at least for now. Soon you'll need to get used to being called your Grace by all and sundry. For now, I will be so bold as to call you Aegon, or do you prefer Jon?"
  
  "I'll leave the choice to you. I'd understand if it would seem strange to you to call me by the name that you once called your nephew." Jon's eyes searched Oberyn's for a sign of unease.
  
  "I would mind if it were anyone else. But you, you have proven yourself worthy of his name, Aegon." For once Prince Oberyn's eyes looked one hundred percent serious and honest.
  
  "Thank you. That is high praise indeed. And please, whether I am Prince or King, whatever happens, in private you'll always be allowed to address me without a title. You have earned that right."
  
  Jon held out his cup and Prince Oberyn filled it from the pitcher he had stolen from the castle's kitchen earlier. "How have you been, Oberyn?"
  
  "Bored as hell on the long journey by ship, but glad to be back to my scheming. I was wondering if I could attend the small council meeting tomorrow afternoon. I heard Lord Varys will arrive in the course of the morning. I'd love to sit in on that meeting."
  
  "Then you are very welcome to join us. I'll have them send for you." Jon agreed to his request readily.
  
  "Thanks." Oberyn looked around and noticed that the smallfolk respected their privacy. They were still present on the beach in large numbers. He had observed the Prince from afar long before Aegon had noticed his presence. The young man had been sitting leisurely in a circle of simple people, his arms around Princess Daenerys, occasionally stealing a kiss from her but all the same, laughing and joking with carpenters and farmers as if he was one of them.
  
  "You are a true Prince of the people. You take it even further than my dear friend, your father, Prince Rhaegar. I wonder how that will go over with the noble Lords once you are crowned King." Oberyn remarked.
  
  "There are more smallfolk than noble Lords in Westeros, Oberyn. If I am going to be a just ruler, I will have to look out for the interest of these people. I'll respect all the Princes and Lords of the realm as long as they don't abuse the smallfolk." Jon looked into his cup admiring the colour of the wine.
  
  "Oh, to be young and still have ideals." Prince Oberyn commented. "I remember when I was young. I thought I freed some of the servants who according to my childish standards were being exploited by my father. A moon later, my father ordered me to come with him and we rode to this village half a day's ride from the palace. He forced me to observe the people from afar for some time. He had brought me there to show me how the families of the men I freed from their so-called forced labour were starving since they were deprived of the food and shelter their work had entitled them to."
  
  He looked at the Targaryen Prince and his eyes grew more serious. "Aegon, I know not everything is as black and white as this example, but make it too easy on the smallfolk and they will grow lazy, believing that they are entitled to be looked after by you without having to do anything in return. If we don't all play our part, the realm will crumble."
  
  "Don't worry. I learned from a young age that everyone needs to play their role for a society to thrive. Lord Reed explained that most of the servants and smallfolk find fulfillment in hard work and take pride in receiving appreciation from their Lord. It defines them, gives them a sense of self-worth, something to strive toward. Noble Lords that take their roles seriously work hard as well. They are responsible for the well-being of an entire community. My foster-father was very thorough in his lessons and Uncle Ned also instructed me on the responsibilities of a Warden and King anytime he got the chance."
  
  "Then I'll stop lecturing. That is not my thing anyway. And I am being remiss. I extracted the happy news from Ser Arthur. We have not toasted yet to your betrothal. A most convenient match, Aegon." He raised his glass.
  
  Jon mimicked the movement and both men drank deeply.
  
  "Being the man of the people that you are, I once had the hope you might marry one of my daughters." Oberyn remarked staring absently into his almost empty cup.
  
  Jon didn't reply immediately. He searched for the right words not wanting to offend his friend and ally. He took another sip of wine before he spoke. "I only met one of your daughters and she was a bit too forward to my liking. Our personalities did not match."
  
  Oberyn laughed. "I know. It is just that you are one of the only nobles, a royal even that wouldn't mind marrying a Sand." He twirled his cup in his hands.
  
  "I can legalise all your daughters with one stroke of my quill soon, if that might help. To be honest, Nymeria's marriage prospects are more harmed by her behaviour than because of her status as a bastard. Surely you saw how she threw herself at me? My cousin, Robb Stark wrote to me of her behaviour while she was at Winterfell. He complained that she kept pursuing him even after he had made it very clear that he wasn't interested. Even if she were a Princess, most Lords of the North wouldn't choose a wife who behaved so uh forward." Jon felt himself grow warm.
  
  Oberyn sighed. "I saw. I used to think it was endearing how free spirited my daughters were. Are." He corrected himself. "And I never had a second thought about it. Dorne is less rigid when it comes to morals. That is true. You are right though. If they want a noble husband, they should behave a bit more circumspect. Nymeria however doesn't want to catch a husband."
  
  "She could have fooled me," Jon muttered. "I'm sorry. That was rude. What does she want, Oberyn?" He was curious now.
  
  "She wants to be recognised for her fighting skills. She wants to swear her sword to you." Oberyn now turned his head sideways, smiling a bit apologetically. "I know she didn't go about it the right way."
  
  "Even if I'd consider it, I'd have to talk to Ser Gerold about it first. Are you sure that this is what she wants?" Jon wasn't all that certain that Nymeria Sand could live a long period in service to another.
  
  "She told me even before she met you the first time at Greywater Watch. I'd have to check but I can't right now. I sent her to Dorne, officially to report to her uncle Doran but in reality to put a few things in motion over there. Now that we are on the subject of potential female warriors, your youngest cousin is also a promising fighter. I did what you asked and found an excellent teacher for her. I have taken the liberty to send for him already. He is an Essosi, well versed in the art of water dancing."
  
  "Water dancing better be a fighting style befitting Arya and have nothing to do with actual dancing." Jon looked a bit skeptical.
  
  "You hurt my feelings with your lack of confidence in me." Oberyn's free hand held his heart in a mocking fashion for a moment before he grew serious again. "Syrio Forel once was the first Sword of Braavos. His services do not come cheap."
  
  Jon relaxed. "I'll pay for his fee. Thanks, Oberyn. I really appreciate you helping us with this."
  
  "We'll convince Ned Stark to pay. I'll think of something." Oberyn smiled mischievously.
  
  "How come I do not doubt that?" Jon muttered but the smile he was trying to suppress broke on his face anyway.
  
  Prince Oberyn grabbed the pitcher once more and offered to fill Jon's cup again. Jon nodded his assent and sipped the red liquid grateful for the distraction.
  
  "This is indeed a very fine wine. I might need you to negotiate a deal for me with the Dornish supplier." He remarked after he had drunk half of this second filling.
  
  "Consider it done, Aegon. The man will be very pleased to boast to all and sundry he is the favourite supplier of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, in the very near future I mean of course."
  
  "Of course. Would you be willing to tell me in all honesty what you meant before when you told me that Dany and I make a most convenient match?" The wine had loosened Jon's tongue somewhat, he felt a bit light in his head.
  
  Oberyn looked surprised. "I thought that was evident. You are not giving any Kingdom the advantage over the others. Jealousy can create rivalries, and rivalries, well just read your history books again, Aegon. This is a very diplomatic solution. Not to mention that there are fire breathing dragons in the realm again. She has the blood of old Valyria. She is the best possible match for you."
  
  He bumped gently into Jon, his eyes twinkling again. "And might I point out that she is head over heels for you which is always a plus. Not to mention how sweet she is on the eyes. You won't have much trouble convincing her to make lots of heirs and you will enjoy doing so thoroughly. I can go on and describe every lovely detail of her physique starting with the parts that are relevant to help you out, but..."
  
  "You may stop already." Jon quickly interrupted with burning cheeks. Oberyn's words only enhanced the effect the wine was having on him. "My question was answered in full. I am satisfied."
  
  "Satisfied, mmph. Truly? Has she already seen to your needs?"
  
  "How was your reunion with Ellaria?" Jon deflected now red as a tomato.
  
  "Oh no, you wouldn't want to hear those details, my boy. You're unwillingness to answer my previous question proves you can't handle that topic yet."
  
  Jon swallowed not knowing how to respond to that. He searched desperately for another topic.
  
  "You grew up with Ser Arthur. Did you know the Lady Ashara well?" He tried to get Oberyn to back off.
  
  "I did. I might even have flirted with her at one time." Prince Oberyn accepted the change in subject opting to refrain from teasing the Prince for now.
  
  "She very much resembles her brother. She must have been a beauty when she was a maid. Is she a widow and reverted to the use of her maiden name?" Jon pursued his line of questioning.
  
  "She never married. I believe she fell in love once when she was very young but it didn't end well and she retreated from society for a time. Then her life was further uprooted when the Targaryens lost the Iron Throne, Ser Arthur disappeared and was presumed dead. She mourned her brother for several years before he was allowed to contact her."
  
  "It is a shame." Jon sipped from his cup and sighed with contentment. "This really is excellent wine."
  
  The Dornish Prince nodded. "Your betrothed is gesturing at you. Perhaps we should both go over. Don't worry I will just offer her my congratulations and vanish. You're lucky that I respect you enough not to make a pass at her. You wouldn't stand a chance. I know all the good tricks." He made an obscene gesture with his tongue and eyes.
  
  Jon just laughed. "I consider myself very lucky. On all counts. Perhaps even tomorrow in the training yard I might get lucky and teach you a lesson?"
  
  "I feel a headache coming up." Oberyn lifted his hand to his forehead in a theatrical gesture. "I am afraid I will need to rest up and get well so I can attend the council meeting in the afternoon. Perhaps some other time."
  
  "Another time it is. I'll ask again tomorrow evening. You better start thinking of a better excuse to use then." Jon smiled, stood with a bit of difficulty and offered his hand to help the Dornish Prince up.
  
  It was dark when Jon and Dany walked back to the castle. Jon was still a little tipsy from the wine and held Dany close to him, his arm around her waist.
  
  "Did you enjoy yourself, Dany? Those were all simple folk telling you about their daily routines, their small successes and little problems." His hand that held her waist started stroking her side sensually.
  
  "I did actually. I also enjoyed how you felt at ease amongst them, Aegon. Nobody would suspect you were the True King when they saw you mingle with these folk sitting on the ground, eating simple fare. You understood them and knew what they were talking about as well as if you had lived among them. Oh, but you have." She looked at him trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on her lower hip that had moved even lower and was caressing her buttocksnow.
  
  "Indeed, I lived in a small community and the knights and I helped out where we could. I enjoyed that simple live. Whenever my lessons and training sessions were finished, I would roam the environment. More so after I had acquired Ghost. He had an infallible instinct for where we were most needed." His hand had returned to her waist again but was now moving upward toward her breast.
  
  "And I sat inside a luxurious villa and knew nothing about the struggles of the common folk." She leaned into him rather enjoying his unusual forwardness. He normally was more circumspect. Although it was dark, they were still outside and Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur were walking not too far behind.
  
  "Don't worry, Dany. You are doing fine. They are already embracing you. You provided a lot of them with an extra income. Folks appreciate the fact that you show your face regularly and take an interest in their efforts. And you are marrying their darling Prince. But let's change the subject." He hand now cupped her breast.
  
  "To what?" Her words sounded almost like a squeak.
  
  She stopped walking and looked into his dark eyes. He dropped his hands and turned to her so they stood face to face.
  
  "See this beautiful moon, the cliffs of Dragonstone, our home visible from here and only two guards staying behind, guarding us very discreetly, barely able to see in the dark what we are doing?" His voice was seducing her all on its own since his hands hung still against his own body.
  
  "Yes." She smiled feeling a familiar tingling rise in her body. "I can see all that."
  
  "See this young man standing in front of you now? Do you see his lips that are longing for mmph."
  
  Jon felt her arms close around his neck as she silenced him by putting her lips on his. He in turn encircled her waist and reciprocated her kiss. His lower body pressed into hers. He continued kissing her keeping her body locked tightly against his. A discreet cough from Ser Gerold made Jon pull back and end their embrace. Daenerys looked at him her lips swollen and her eyes even half closed betrayed the passion he had awoken in her.
  
  "Time to go inside, my Prince. You have an early morning and it is getting rather chilly. The Princess is not suitably attired for this fall in temperature.
  
  "Let's race you to the steps then." Jon replied impulsively. Taking Dany's hand in his, he pulled her forward and together they raced towards the winding stairs. Ser Gerold looked exasperated but did his best to keep up, followed closely by a grinning Ser Barristan the Bold.
  
  The next morning Jon cancelled his training. Not only because of the effect the Dornish wine had on his mind and body. Normally Jon would work through that. A long message had arrived from Lord Reed and after decoding the first half of it he had informed his Kingsguard on duty to alert the ones waiting for him in the courtyard that his daily training was cancelled and to locate Davos and ask him to attend to him immediately.
  
  A bit later Ser Arthur reported back to Jon. "Davos Seaworth has gone down to the docks this morning to inspect the status of the ships. I sent a messenger over. He will be here as soon as possible."
  
  "Then leave word that he can find me in the Godswood. I am going over there as soon as I have finished decoding this message."
  
  Ser Arthur looked at him but Jon offered no more info and the knight kept silent. There was a council meeting scheduled for that afternoon with the additional presence of the Master of Whisperers. The knight probably knew that he would be informed of anything important, if not now, then certainly during that meeting. He waited near the door and escorted his Prince to the Godswood as soon as Jon had tucked the message he had been scribbling on away.
  
  When Jon entered the garden where the sapling of the heart tree of Winterfell was growing steadily, he saw Lady Ashara Dayne standing before it. It appeared she was praying. Before he had a chance to retrace his steps and leave her in peace, she spotted him.
  
  "My Prince," she bowed. "Don't leave on my account. I was finishing up anyway."
  
  Jon nodded his head in answer to her greeting. "I didn't know you worshipped the Old Gods, Lady Dayne."
  
  "I don't. It is just being in a Godswood helps me remember... , never mind." She sighed. "You know, you are the spitting image of your uncle when he was your age."
  
  Jon looked at her taken aback. "You knew Lord Eddard Stark? Or did you know Brandon Stark before uh,"
  
  He cursed inwardly and wondered how you phrased in polite conversation that your mad grandfather killed your other grandfather together with his son who also happened to be one of your uncles? Luckily Ashara Dayne spoke up and saved him from having to complete his sentence.
  
  "I knew both of them. I met them at the tourney of Harrenhal before the Rebellion. They were both nice men, very unlike one another in disposition, but both nice in their own way." She answered softly, smiling a bit sad.
  
  Jon's mind was working a mile a minute. She hadn't married because of a love that hadn't ended well. Uncle Brandon had died young.
  
  "I reckon you have never met my uncle Benjen? If not you would have included him in your praise." He tried to steer the conversation away from the unfortunate fate of his uncle Brandon.
  
  "I only met Benjen Stark briefly. He was hardly more than a child back then. It has been a long time since I had the pleasure to meet any of the Starks again." Another sad smile ghosted over her face.
  
  "You'll meet Lord Eddard Stark when you visit King's Landing. Benjen Stark will come south as soon as his business in Winterfell has been taken care of." He smiled encouragingly at her.
  
  "Perhaps," she answered hesitantly. "I'll let you pray in private, my Prince." She bowed and turned away before Jon could think of a reply. She smiled and greeted her brother and Ser Oswell when she passed them but didn't linger knowing they were on duty.
  
  Jon watched her until she disappeared from sight. Perhaps he should ask Ser Arthur. He might be willing to tell him if in another life, he could have called Lady Dayne, Aunt Ashara. He knelt before the small heart tree and tried to empty his mind as Lord Reed had taught him.
  
  At first nothing happened but then he felt a warm welcoming feeling. It was as if the Gods were reaching out to him, or if not the Gods, then at least a friendly entity. His mind tried to reach out further to make more sense of what was happening.
  
  Suddenly things changed drastically. It felt as if the winds picked up and a shiver ran over his back. Gone was the warm welcome, instead it grew colder and he felt threatened. The eerie feeling grew. This was not a vision from the Gods. Jon wanted to open his eyes but couldn't. Somehow he was unable to move. Jon was getting scared and fought the strange enchantment that was keeping him prisoner. He startled when a hand touched him and he tried to shake it off.
  
  "Calm down son, it is only me. You are shivering." Davos' calm voice was able to reach Jon and he succeeded in breaking his trance.
  
  Jon slowly opened one eye. Seeing Davos looking at him with a worried expression, he exhaled and carefully opened his other eye. The feeling dissipated. The connection or whatever had happened to him had been broken.
  
  "Davos?"
  
  "You feel cold, Jon. Are you alright?"
  
  "It seems I am now. Thanks, Davos." Jon answered his wits coming back again. "I don't know what happened. I felt unable to move. Something or someone was drawing me in. I won't try that again anytime soon."
  
  "Try what exactly? I feel out of my depth here, my Prince. Politics I can handle. Magic is something I don't know anything about and I am rather wary of."
  
  "That makes two of us, Davos. I was only trying to contact the Gods, to be given guidance, a vision perhaps to make more sense of some troubling things."
  
  "Do I know of these troubling things you are referring to?" He studied the young man and saw him getting nervous."
  
  "Not all of them," Jon admitted a bit embarrassed. "Some things are still too unclear to burden you all with."
  
  "Isn't that what we are here for? To help you carry your burden? I can understand that you are reluctant to tell the entire council, but can't you at least tell me? I will keep it quiet if that is your wish."
  
  "I know, Davos. But I wouldn't want to worry you needlessly or freak you out when I am not sure..." his voice trailed off.
  
  "Tell me, son. Not as your Hand, but as your trusted friend. Tell me as you would tell your father if he was still alive." He encouraged the Targaryen Prince.
  
  "Perhaps we should find a better place for this, where we can both sit down and talk privately?" Jon looked over to where two of his Kingsguard were keeping a close eye on him. Ser Gerold had decreed that with all the visitors coming and going, Jon needed at least two protectors at all times when he ventured outside his quarters. Mostly he didn't mind but at times like this or when spending time with Dany, it could grow a bit uncomfortable.
  
  "How about the abandoned caves?" Davos suggested. "They have stopped mining the dragonglass. All the men are working on the Targaryen armour, banners and sails. Ser Arthur will agree that you are safe in there if he is guarding the only entrance.
  
  Jon nodded and they walked the small distance in silence. He used the time to gather his thoughts.
  
  When they entered the caves it was obvious that Davos had been there before. Without looking twice, his Hand took a torch hanging against the walls and lit it. Then he guided Jon through a few narrow passage ways until they reached a large open space. Jon looked around and admired the rough rocks. The light of the torch made the pieces of dragonglass still embedded in the walls shine like coloured gemstones.
  
  "Amazing," he uttered. "I should bring Dany here to see this."
  
  "We can sit down over there." Davos led him to a flat rock that could be used as a seat. "Now tell me and don't hold back. What have you been keeping from me that is weighing you down?"
  
  Jon tore his eyes away from the glittering walls and focused his thoughts. "Perhaps I should start from the beginning?"
  
  "Please do. I freed my schedule for the entire morning. There is enough time left before lunch to tell an entire life's worth of dreams and nightmares."
  
  "It all started when I got ill before leaving to save Robb at the Dreadfort." Jon hesitated. "I made myself ill. I can't tell you exactly what I did. Suffice it to say that I did something to induce greendreams because at the time I was struggling with... . Never mind that isn't relevant now."
  
  "Tell me anyway, Jon. I want to know what drove you to put your health at risk." Davos would use the opportunity to get to the bottom of this, glad the Prince brought the subject up himself.
  
  "I felt guilty for wanting to marry Dany for love and not for political reasons. At the time I feared either my choice might bring a war about because I failed to annex a Kingdom by marriage or worse, that by marrying her I condemned my offspring to madness. You were not here and I kept thinking of this possibility that my great-great-uncle Aemon at the Wall had told me about, uh a possibility to induce visions. I am telling you more than I should already. This is supposed to be a big Targaryen secret only to be revealed to the heir of House Targaryen."
  
  "I gather you were reassured by whatever you experienced since you are betrothed?" Davos was still at a loss as to why he had been summoned to come to his Prince's side in such haste.
  
  "No, I came to that decision through other means. The Gods, or whatever powers that granted me a glimpse of the future, didn't bother with whom I should or should not marry. I came to the decision to marry Dany after thinking long and hard about it and to be honest after a very fruitful and welcome conversation with Uncle Benjen."
  
  "Okay, then what happened with the greendream you uh forced on yourself?" Davos frowned.
  
  "The vision I got showed me something else. It has to do with what I told you about already. You recall? A King to defeat a King."
  
  Davos nodded. "You on a field of ice and fire. You told us that yesterday."
  
  "I did not tell you all I saw." Jon took a deep breath to find the courage to say it out loud.
  
  "I saw myself and the Night King, in single combat. Nobody could reach us because we were engulfed in a ball of fire. The fire did not seem to harm us much. I fought with my sword that had also caught fire. I did not see the outcome of the fight but I could feel myself weakening from the heat. I might defeat him, Davos. Sam at least seems to think so."
  
  Jon looked up at the calm, compassionate weathered face of Davos. He swallowed and added. "But I'm not sure that I will survive the fight."
  
  "Why not? Didn't Bran see a vision of you with grey hair?" Davos asked staying calm, neither changing his expression, nor moving a muscle.
  
  "It could be a descendant who looks just like me. It is also possible that the vision will never come to pass. The choices we and also our enemies make in between might change the outcome. Lord Reed often warned me the future isn't set in stone since we still have free will."
  
  Jon looked up at Davos and sighed. "I can't explain why. While I was experiencing the vision, I feared the possibility that I might perish. I could feel my arms and legs tiring. It must have been a long fight." Jon paused and took a few deep breaths to hold the feeling of doom that was creeping up on him once more at bay.
  
  "I should train harder still. I might be a good swordfighter but he matched my skill. It seemed as if he knew my moves before I even made them. I suspect he is a greenseer as well, perhaps one even more powerful than little Cousin Bran or Lord Reed. It is possible that he had a detailed vision of the fight and can adapt his strategy. Anyway I felt... ," Jon suddenly looked away a stricken look on his pale face.
  
  "Jon? Son, what is the matter? You are shivering once more." Davos put his hand on his shoulder to offer comfort.
  
  "I experienced a feeling of doom, of foreboding, just like, just like the one I felt before the heart tree when you startled me. It makes me wonder if I felt the presence of the Night King. These experiences were eerily identical."
  
  "If that is the case, perhaps you should consult Lord Reed about this. He might tell you whether you are just imagining things or if there is indeed a possibility for greenseers to reach out to each other through the trees."
  
  Jon let out a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, that is a good idea. I will make another stop there on my journey north."
  
  Davos had taken his hand of Jon's shoulder and both men sat in silence for a moment. "I don't like this Jon. I don't like this one bit. Not about the single combat, not about you no longer being safe in the Godswood."
  
  Jon nodded again but kept silent.
  
  "I understand you not wanting to talk to anyone yet. It all seems so far-fetched. Are you really fireproof?"
  
  "Not entirely. The fire of my dragons can't hurt me. I can get a slight burn from normal fire and I heal faster than usual."
  
  "Let Sam do some research. Even if you don't tell him everything, he can research the use of fire by Targaryens and their vulnerabilities. For the other thing, I can only counsel you to visit Lord Reed on your way north, Jon."
  
  Jon nodded deep in thought. A bit later he spoke up again. "Talking about Lord Reed, I just got a long message from him. Actually, that is the reason I summoned you here. It is not good news..."
  
  Varys had indeed arrived in time for lunch and soon after, they all gathered in the beautiful council room at Dragonstone. Never before had there been this many advisers seated at the painted table since Jon had started using the room. Only Ser Barristan was not attending. He had volunteered to accompany their guests on a tour of the harbour and the workshops.
  
  Jon had taken his normal place that happened to be where King's Landing and the Driftmark were painted on the table. Sam sat to his left now, his scrolls covering the Stormlands. It was Davos who sat to his right close to the Fingers this time. Dany had taken a seat next to Davos, her delicate hands were tracing the contours of White harbour. Varys was quick to claim the chair opposite Jon near the Westerlands. Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell sat respectively before the Reach and Oldtown. Ser Arthur hands fiddled with a wooden miniature boat that had been left by someone on Cape Kraken. Prince Oberyn had opted to sit to the left of Sam, considering it the righteous place of a Dornish Prince at the painted table.
  
  "We should have wooden miniatures carved out." Varys commented looking at the one Ser Arthur was toying with. Wolves to depict the Starks, Stags for the Baratheons and so on. Then we can plan battles on this table."
  
  "I hope we won't need those anytime soon." Jon remarked. "If everyone is present, perhaps we should start."
  
  Varys stood. "May I begin with offering my congratulations to you and the Princess? I was most pleased to hear of your betrothal. A most convenient and satisfactory decision. I wish you both every happiness." He bowed and looked satisfied when he witnessed Jon and Dany exchanging warm happy smiles.
  
  "We thank you." Jon answered and Dany nodded her head towards Varys.
  
  "Perhaps you should start, Lord Varys. We are eager to hear the news from the capital." Davos practical as ever moved things along.
  
  Varys sat down. "Most of the efforts right now are directed versus organising the tournament. Lord Royce has been put in charge of the logistics and reports back to the Hand of the King. He asked me to convey his greetings. If he hadn't been given this responsibility and a temporary seat on the small council, he would have liked to accompany me to swear fealty to you in person. Instead," he reached inside his pocket and took out a scroll. "He gave me this document to hand over to you. It is his formal pledge that the Vale will stand behind you and support your claim."
  
  He handed the scroll across the table to his future King. "Well done, my Prince." He added. "Lord Royce has done nothing but sing your praises. You made an impression on him and not just because you swiftly dealt with the situation at the Eyrie." He smiled when he saw the modest reaction of the Targaryen Prince. The young man would make an excellent King.
  
  "Thank you Lord Varys. When will the tournament be held exactly?" Jon was quick to cover his slight embarrassment with the unexpected praise.
  
  "Preliminary competitions are to start in two sennights." Seeing Jon's questioning gaze he explained. "Too many knights have entered the list. The ones that have never before engaged in a jousting event in the capital will have to compete amongst themselves in a sort of pre-tournament. Only the best ten will be allowed to enter the main list and join the veterans. If nothing happens," he gave Jon a significant look, "the actual tournament will start in three sennights and will last for three days."
  
  "My Prince?" Ser Arthur asked, looking at him expectantly. "Any luck you will be back by then?"
  
  Jon sighed. "I don't think so. That would be around the time that the dead arrive at Hardhome. I intend to fly North in a sennight so I can help set up the last traps. In all probability I won't be here before the event has ended."
  
  Varys lifted another scroll from his pocket. "A pity. I believe in this message the Hand of the King urges you to come to King's Landing first before heading North."
  
  "We discussed this more than once already. It is too high a risk." Jon answered. "Even if all goes well and everything is ready from me to enter the Throne Room disguised as Lord Celtigar and just calmly seat myself on the Iron Throne with the help of all our loyal supporters over there, I can't simply announce my rule only to abandon it the next day to head north for a moon's duration or more."
  
  He looked around to see several nodding heads. With his gaze fixed on Lord Varys he continued. "I must stay there to receive oaths of fealty. Besides, once I am King, people will need to see me in person. They will expect an official inauguration. I will also have to reassure them that the dragons mean them no harm but instead will help protect them. The best way to do that is by example. Surely you all realise that in this case, seeing is believing. But most important of all, I will have to react swiftly if anyone chooses to rebel. It is highly likely that an uprising might come from Prince Stannis and the Stormlands."
  
  Davos coughed and looked at Jon with a meaningful stare.
  
  Jon shook his head and spoke quietly with Davos. "Let us first deal with the other issues before tackling that one."
  
  "What have you and the Hand of the King answered to Lord Lannister's demands." Davos was quick to ask the Master of Whispers and Jon nodded gratefully to his Hand.
  
  "Nothing yet, my Prince. We both were of the opinion you should have a say in that."
  
  "Can't we invite him to come to Dragonstone?" Prince Oberyn proposed. "I am sure Lord Tyrion of House Lannister and Prince Aegon would get along just fine. The dwarf is no typical Lannister, not by a long shot."
  
  "It would take him too long to arrive." Ser Arthur reminded them all of the distance between the Rock and Dragonstone.
  
  Sam now turned to Jon with a wan smile. "Might I suggest that he be sent a letter written by the esteemed Dragonrider himself containing the promise of a visit from the True King and his dragons as soon as the undersigned's most pressing business has been taken care of?"
  
  "I could hint at a possible betrothal between his niece and the heir of Highgarden but urge him to keep it a secret for now." Jon added.
  
  "My Prince?" Davos asked.
  
  "Trust me in this, Davos. I have a very good reason to suggest this. It will also serve Lady Tyrell right for stalling. I will relish using my royal authority to take the choice away from her and overrule her wishes. Not to mention the added bonus that the heir of Highgarden will be my most loyal subject when he hears about this."
  
  "Aegon, do you mean to imply that Lord Willas of House Tyrell would agree to marry a bastard?" Princess Daenerys turned to Jon, her eyes pleading with him to show mercy to the two young people involved.
  
  Jon leaned over so he could look at her past Davos. "They love each other, Dany. I have it on good authority. Besides she will be legalised by then," he added in a gentle tone. His honest Stark eyes held hers until she averted them and he could see how her cheeks had gained a rosy tint.
  
  Davos coughed discreetly to draw Jon's attention away from the Princess. "As long as it is nothing more than a hint and no formal promise, I agree. Otherwise we run the risk to create an alliance between two Kingdoms that might rebel. I urge you to only finalise the betrothal when they have sworn allegiance to you in front of witnesses."
  
  Jon nodded and was joined by most of the others. Sam was just scribbling away. Prince Oberyn was the only one who voiced his opinion out loud when he exclaimed. 'Damned right!"
  
  Davos considered the subject closed and moved on to the next topic. "Lord Varys, we want you to remove the lethal poisons from Maester Pycelle's cabinet. Sam was preparing a message to that effect but since you are here we can ask you in person. It has to do with a premonition of our greenseer."
  
  "I see. I'll try to do that without Maester Pycelle's knowledge and will only inform him after the fact. Perhaps Prince Oberyn might be willing to help me to identify the substances." Varys turned to look at the Dornish Prince.
  
  "Why tell the old fart?" Prince Oberyn objected. "I could easily replace most of them with harmless liquids so he wouldn't notice. If we tell him, the old conniver might be brewing them anew for all we know."
  
  "What has the old Grand Maester done to you, Prince Oberyn?" Varys sighed. "We can't antagonise him since a Grand Maester's position is for life. He could endanger our Prince's life if we make him our enemy."
  
  "I don't trust him." Prince Oberyn pouted. "Besides, if we substituted his potions with harmless liquids he couldn't hurt our Prince that way and I think Prince Aegon can handle him in a swordfight."
  
  "Prince Aegon?" Prince Oberyn looked at Jon with hopeful eyes. "Can't you see the merit of keeping him in the dark for now?"
  
  "My great-great-uncle was older than Grand Maester Pycelle is now and he was still an asset to the Watch and of great support to me. I can't really express an opinion without knowing the man. I will have to rely on those who worked closely with him. Lord Varys, are you sure that you can trust Grand Maester Pycelle?"
  
  "I do not question his loyalties, not yet anyway. I have to admit that he is growing lazy and incompetent. At times one could call him senile. A Maester, certainly a Grand Maester should be careful with his lethal potions and keep them under double lock and key and we have seen the consequences of his negligence in this respect. If you want a complete report on the man's abilities, I must add that Grand Maester Pycelle often falls asleep during important meetings. I suspect this happens because he spends a part of his nights plaguing female servants or young whores with his attentions, even at his advanced age. The times he is awake during the small council meetings, he never really contributes anything of value. We all have to pick up his slack. He won't be an asset to your rule, my Prince." Varys admitted.
  
  "If that is the case and he is a mere figurehead, then I will allow Prince Oberyn to deceive him and replace the harmful potions with neutral liquids. The entire Maester's system is in great need of being reformed." Jon quickly looked away from Prince Oberyn's satisfied grin in order to keep his face neutral. He turned his attention back to the Master of Whispers.
  
  "Lord Varys, what about the rumours that were spread about a dragonrider coming to burn King's Landing and all its inhabitants. Have you made any progress in your investigations?"
  
  "I have finally tracked down the source. It was an emissary sent by the Red Priestess that resides in the Stormlands. I have been able to discredit the rumours and am working on spreading the story of a kind and noble dragonrider helping Westeros by saving our coasts from Ironborn raids. The tide is turning slowly. Give me a bit more time and the inhabitants of King's Landing will no longer cower in fear at the simple mention of a dragonrider. I'm not promising the dragons will be hailed with cheers, but there won't be a full blown panic. At least that is my hope."
  
  "Are there rumours surfacing about my return to Westeros, Lord Varys?" Princess Daenerys wanted to know.
  
  "Only the ones I am introducing." He answered bowing his head to her. "I have paid a minstrel to wander from tavern to tavern and sing a song depicting your beauty, your kind heart and your yearning to be allowed to live on the shores where you were born. An entire verse is dedicated to how the exiled Princess longs for a memory of her kind mother and dearest brother Rhaegar who dearly loved the people of King's landing and how they in turn were adored by the smallfolk. It ends with the heartfelt hope that it won't be long now before her lifelong dream might become reality. The minstrel prays that the Seven will grant the Princess her wish and that any day now she will walk the hallowed grounds of her homeland again." His sing song voice trailed off.
  
  Nobody spoke up. Lord Varys saw everyone staring at the Princess whose face had taken on a dreamy look.
  
  "It is quite a masterpiece, even if I say so myself." The Master of Whispers added when nobody offered a comment. "It has been picked up by other performers and the versions have grown lengthier, the melody has evolved and has become a lot more enchanting than the initial version."
  
  "I thank you for that, Lord Varys. I look forward to hearing that song myself." Princess Daenerys said softly. She took a deep breath and added in a more serious tone. "And what is the status regarding King Robert's betrothal?"
  
  "We're still stalling. The Baratheon King is distracted by his mistress and the annulment is not yet formalised." Varys smiled proudly. "That is one plan that is working perfectly."
  
  He looked at Davos and Jon now. "As for keeping him calm and preventing him from making important changes or making rash decisions, we have a problem. King Robert is furious about what happened to his bastard son Edric Storm. He is guarding his niece, the Princess Shireen closely and has opened negotiations with Lord Royce for a potential betrothal between his niece and Lord Robin Arryn."
  
  "That is not a rash decision but merely a tepid reaction at best." Prince Oberyn threw in. "I would instantly have called my banners and beheaded Prince Stannis."
  
  "That is exactly what King Robert intends to do. He is even debating calling Prince Renly back from the Wall so he can become the Lord of Storm's End again after the King has executed Prince Stannis for burning nobles." Varys replied. "Lord Stark and I are doing our utmost to try and get him to negotiate with Stannis Baratheon first. The fact that Prince Stannis in his latest message accused the King of kidnapping his niece doesn't help matters."
  
  Davos coughed once more and looked pointedly at Jon. "We might have received some information about that. But first tell us Lord Varys, did you receive other intelligence from the Stormlands?"
  
  "Nothing that I have been able to verify adequately. A rumour becomes valuable news only when you hear it from enough independent sources to lend it credit. I have nothing but unconfirmed rumours, my Prince."
  
  "Tell them to us all the same." Jon encouraged him. "We might be able to confirm some of them."
  
  "Apparently the Red priestess, Melisandre has lost the child she was carrying and is said to be rather ill. Stannis might be negotiating with Euron Greyjoy and even be contacting sellsword companies in Essos. It might even be possible that he is approaching major bannermen from Dorne and the Reach. But I can't tell you for sure that any of these rumours are to be taken seriously." He ended his report with an apologetic expression on his face.
  
  "That is all?" Jon and Davos exchanged glances once more.
  
  "I hate to give misinformation, my Prince. But if you want me to tell you, I will do so under the risk of relaying mere gossip that has not a single grain of truth in it." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
  
  "It has come to my ears that the Lords of the Stormlands that have refused to heed his call to banners, have been threatened to have their lands seized and their family members offered to R'hllor, to be burned alive that is, if they do not reconsider swiftly."
  
  "Let me be an independent source to help you along here then." Jon said with authority. "We received a raven from Lord Reed this morning. He wrote that somehow the magic shield protecting the Stormlands from his visions has lifted. He writes of the miscarriage of the Red Priestess and speculates she was the one keeping his visions at bay with her magic. Ever since she has been ill, he and my young cousin have been granted several visions. He warned me about a possible alliance between Euron Greyjoy and the Baratheon Prince. Apparently Prince Stannis is so deluded that he believes he is the Rightful King so ordained by the Lord of Light. He proclaims that in order to fulfil his role of the Prince Who Was Promised and become the saviour that will rescue the realm from the Dark Night full of Terrors, he must become more powerful first. He intends to depose his brother to become the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Only then can he go on a pilgrimage to save the realm from the Great Enemy in the Lands of Always Winter."
  
  "He would dethrone his own brother?" Ser Gerold asked incredulously. "That is unlike the Stannis I knew."
  
  "I spoke to Thoros of Myr personally." Prince Oberyn countered. "The Priest states that Stannis has turned into a fanatic. According to him Prince Stannis is totally convinced that he is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai. He has become a zealot and a fool."
  
  "What does that make me?" Jon muttered under his breath. Aloud he spoke. "That is not all Lord Reed warned me about. He said an undead foe from the south is coming for me before the Night King will."
  
  "Night King?" Prince Oberyn asked perplexed. "Undead foe? Can it be that I am missing some vital information here?"
  
  Jon leaned forward and turned his head so he could look at the Dornish Prince. "We have taken to calling the leader of the White Walkers the Night King." Jon explained. "As to the undead foe in the South, I have no idea what he means, neither does Lord Reed. Not yet anyway."
  
  "Uh perhaps," Sam stuttered.
  
  "Yes Sam," Jon encouraged his friend to speak.
  
  "I had read that disciples of R'hllor, red priests and maybe also priestesses can sometimes bring someone who has recently died back to life. Since Thoros of Myr is our ally I wrote to him and asked if this was some kind of metaphor or whether I should interpret this literally. He wrote back confirming he had resurrected his friend, Lord Beric Dondarrion when he had sustained a deadly wound in a sword fight. So we must assume it is possible."
  
  "What are you saying exactly, Lord Tarly?" Davos asked.
  
  "Uh nothing precisely, just that someone who was brought back to life could be considered uh undead? Then Lord Reed's vision could be interpreted in that way?" He looked hesitantly at the Targaryen Prince.
  
  Varys looked at the young Lord Tarly studying him thoughtfully. The Targaryen Prince had written to him that his friend was uncommonly smart but lacking in confidence. The Prince had informed him that Samwell Tarly was set to become a major adviser and already proved a major asset. According to Prince Aegon, Tarly was set to become a Grand Maester at a very young age not long after he had forged his chain. Now Varys understood. This young Lord showed great potential indeed.
  
  "It might even be Prince Stannis himself." Varys supported Tarly's idea. "The Red Priestess Melisandre could have resurrected him at some point."
  
  Sam nodded. "Or will do so in the near future. Just bear in mind that we do not know for sure. For all we know, it might be Euron Greyjoy or anyone else residing in the South."
  
  "Remember these visions are always vague about a timeline." Jon warned. "Perhaps it is a warning that the dead might reach the South." he ventured.
  
  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Davos stated. "Let us focus on the threat of the Stormlands for now and see which bannermen Stannis has been able to rally to his cause."
  
  Jon looked at Varys. "I can also confirm your far-fetched rumour of Lord Stannis threatening to burn the families of bannermen who refuse to heed his call. Lord Reed mentioned this as well."
  
  "That man never ceases to amaze us." Ser Gerold threw in. "How do we proceed with the Stormland bannermen that have come to us for advice on what to do about their Liege Lord's summons? They are torn between their belief in our cause and the threat to their lands and loved ones."
  
  "We must find a way to stall for time and bring their families to safety. Anyone have any ideas?" Jon spoke up again.
  
  "That still leaves their lands open to be plundered." Ser Oswell pointed out. "If only we could find a way to hinder them from leaving the capital without the blame falling on them."
  
  Jon and Davos exchanged a few short whispers.
  
  "Varys, can't King Robert send a raven to his brother in the Stormlands condemning the murder of Edric Storm and once more ordering Prince Stannis to come to the capital? This time it has to be with the express purpose of asking for forgiveness for having burnt the King's bastard. As a further incentive to get his brother to agree to this royal command, King Robert will add that he has prohibited the Lords of the Stormlands residing in the capital to leave King's Landing for the time being. Any Stormlord disobeying his orders will be proclaimed a traitor to the Crown and be thrown in the black cells. Mention that they have all been put under heavy observation." Davos was the one that spoke up and Jon merely nodded his agreement.
  
  "I'll return to King's Landing tomorrow morning and together with Lord Stark we will get the King to agree to this. Consider it done!" He looked at the Targaryen Prince while he promised this.
  
  "Thank you, Lord Varys. Now another issue that was raised is Prince Stannis' attempt to recruit overseas. I already informed you that the Golden Company had been contacted to assist in a fight against royal forces in Westeros. Since Strickland, their captain-general has promised us to remain neutral, we need not fear the Golden Company will sign a contract with Prince Stannis. Is there a way to find out the answer of the other sellsword companies?" Jon asked.
  
  "It takes time to hear back from them." The Master of Whispers admitted.
  
  "Ser Jorah is still in Pentos. Perhaps he can try to find out?" Princess Daenerys offered.
  
  "Why is he still in Pentos?" Prince Oberyn asked his tone accusing. "Are you sure he is so loyal to you when he is still hiding overseas awaiting a royal pardon? You are here without one, aren't you? Isn't he sworn to protect you?"
  
  "I allowed him to stay there a bit longer. He is awaiting my orders." Daenerys defended her sworn sword before Jon could interfere.
  
  "I have several contacts in Essos. Not only in Pentos. I'll reach out to them." Varys promised and the subject was closed.
  
  "Anything else?" Ser Arthur asked. "Or can we consider the subject of the Stormlands handled for now.
  
  "There have been two assassinations attempts on King Robert's life. Two almost identical ones. Assassins trying to shoot King Robert with arrows while he is standing on his balcony to take in some fresh air. One suspect was apprehended and shouted we are all on the wrong side. The Rightful King will soon marry Princess Arianne and bring peace to the Realm. Unfortunately he was able to slit his own throat before the guards could prevent him."
  
  All eyes turned to Jon.
  
  "Don't look at me." The young Prince exclaimed. "It has become clear I am not the only one who claims to be the Rightful King. This man had obviously been brainwashed, most probably by Prince Stannis."
  
  "As we have been brainwashed by you?" Prince Oberyn said light-heartedly. But his joke fell flat.
  
  "This is serious." Ser Gerold reprimanded them. "Stick to the topic at hand. Perhaps someone in Dorne is also preparing an attempt to claim the Iron Throne. Prince Stannis is already married."
  
  "Is it really such a problem that someone is attempting to assassinate the usurper King." Prince Oberyn challenged them.
  
  "It is when you'd think for once instead of joke. If fanatics are trying to murder anyone who sits on the Iron Throne that is not Stannis Baratheon or whoever the assassin was shouting about, we have to deal with this threat before our Prince stakes his claim and exposes himself as a new target to these assassins."
  
  Sam piped in. "And if it turns to actually be Prince Stannis who is considering marrying Princess Arianne, this would mean that Lady Selyse's life is in danger if she isn't dead already."
  
  "I apologize. I meant no offense, Ser Gerold. I concede you raised a valid point." Prince Oberyn looked around to see nothing but worried faces.
  
  "Come on, one can only concentrate and be serious for a certain time. Perhaps we should take a break and send for some refreshments. Is it me or is the air dry in here?" The Dornish Prince wet his tongue.
  
  Jon looked at Prince Oberyn reassuring himself he had made the right decision by inviting the Dornish Prince to this meeting. He was a great asset to the conspiracy and deserved his place here as much or perhaps even more than some others. And if his contributions sometimes were a bit unorthodox, it kept everyone on his toes. Jon hadn't once needed to make an effort to stay focused. He was glad when Ser Arthur spoke up and supported his Dornish friend.
  
  "Prince Oberyn is right. Let us take a little break. Perhaps use the opportunity to take in some fresh air. We can reconvene here in a short while."
  
  The next two days Jon had a busy schedule. He had intensified his training sessions convincing Ser Arthur that he needed to be ready to fight the White Walkers who were very skilled swordfighters and didn't tire. The rest of his day was spent holding court, meeting the new arrivals or deciphering scrolls, conferring with Davos or with his small council. Prince Oberyn, Lord Varys and Lady Ashara Dayne had left for King's Landing the morning after their long meeting. Varys had joked that he would spend more time carrying out tasks for the Targaryen Prince than for the King he officially served.
  
  During supper the second day after they had left, Jon complained to Davos about his schedule."I only get to see Dany during some of the meals. After supper, we are too tired to stay up long enough to spend much time together. I am also too exhausted to connect with my dragons. I will abide by your schedule tomorrow but cancel all appointments for the day after that." Jon ordered Davos who sat opposite him.
  
  Dany who had just finished the last spoonful of a delicious soup looked up. "Aegon, what is the matter?"
  
  "I promised you a visit to my foster-grandmother, didn't I?" Jon gave her a tired smile.
  
  She nodded. Her face lost the worried frown. "You did."
  
  "What do you say about going on a trip with me the day after tomorrow? We'll spend the entire day at the Driftmark. I can show you the caves where I hatched the dragons, we can visit Yekken's workshop and join my grandmother for lunch." His smile broadened when he saw her growing excitement.
  
  "I would love to accompany you. Can we really?" She asked, looking at Davos now.
  
  He chuckled. "I don't see why not. But talk it through with Ser Gerold, Jon. He will need time to take the necessary safety measures."
  
  "I will do so right after supper. I also promised to meet Sam later." Jon turned to Dany. "You will have to excuse me for this evening."
  
  "Don't worry. Irri will be glad for the opportunity to practice her reading with me. She is coming along nicely."
  
  Under the table Jon grabbed her hand that lay on her upper leg and squeezed it gently. "You don't need to sound so happy to escape my company for the night. A young man could get discouraged by less."
  
  "Poor Aegon. I'll make it up to you on our outing, promise." She blew him a kiss.
  
  Jon caressed her thigh and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I look forward to it." The simmering look in his eyes told her a lot more than his short formal response.
  
  He quickly regained his posture when a servant approached with the next dish. Well aware how much Dany loved to hear about the direwolves, he started to tell her how Greywind and Ghost both had comforted and protected Robb Stark at the Dreadfort.
  
  "I hardly get to see you, Jon." Sam complained to his friend. They were seated in Jon's chambers in front of the fire place. Sam had a small wooden desk on his lap, littered with his ever present writing materials.
  
  "We attended the same long meeting the entire afternoon, Sam."
  
  "I mean one on one time with my friend." Sam explained.
  
  "I know, Sam. I wished I had more time to spend with you. How is your book coming along?"
  
  "I work a little on it each day. No matter how busy I am, I refuse to go to sleep without writing at least one paragraph. The letters you gave me helped me a great deal. I also received some information from Ser Oswell about your earlier years and I have written to Lord Reed to ask for some general information about your years at Greywater Watch. I'd say I am making progress."
  
  "That is nice to hear. If ever things are calmer, I want you to consider writing a book on the Free Folk. I want to set the record straight. Everyone should be able to read the truth about their way of life, about the intricacies of their society. They are not this uncivilised people that the existing history books mention in small passages occasionally. They are a folk with a unique civilization of their own and one can learn something from them. I can tell you some things and hopefully you can visit them in the future. If so, use Sandor as a point of reference. He is the one most suited to compare both life styles. These people are worth it to have an entire book dedicated to them." Jon finished his passionate plea.
  
  "That certainly sounds like a challenging project. It could be the start of a series. The second volume would describe the War for the Dawn." Sam needed no further convincing.
  
  "I have something else that might interest you." Jon looked at Sam, his entire demeanour foreboding he was about to impart something vital.
  
  "Oh?" Sam looked up from the notes he had been taking. "Do tell."
  
  "I received a letter from my great-great-uncle." Jon paused waiting for Sam's reaction.
  
  "How is that possible?" His friend rubbed his chin. "He left it to you and you're only telling me about it now?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "Guess again."
  
  "You were recently at Castle Black and you found it in his quarters?"
  
  "You always amaze me with the way your mind works through every possibility in an orderly, logical fashion." Jon praised his friend. "Uncle Aemon left a large scroll to me in a secret hiding place in his quarters. You might find it interesting to know that it was the exact same place where Blackfyre and the dragon eggs were kept hidden for decades."
  
  "And you know that how?"
  
  Jon smiled. Trust Sam to always want to know the details. "Because he allowed me to take the eggs out of there myself when I was twelve years old."
  
  Sam sighed with envy. "I would so much have liked to be a witness to that scene."
  
  "When you get to that passage in your book, I will tell you all about it. I'll even draw a little sketch."
  
  "I hold you to that." Sam was quick to secure the promise. "I still remember you working on the book for your cousin Rickon. I always regretted leaving before you finished it. Some of those drawings were masterpieces, Jon."
  
  Jon smiled a bit self-conscious and made a show of watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
  
  "Jon," Sam broke the silence. "Are you planning on telling me what was in that letter before I fall asleep?" He mock-complained.
  
  "I thought you got distracted and lost interest." Jon teased. He leaned over to Sam. "Better stay awake a bit longer. It is really worth it, I promise."
  
  "Okay," Sam encouraged him. "I am all ears."
  
  "Swear you will keep this a secret. You are only allowed to bring Gendry in on it and even then not before taking every precaution possible. The code you have developed his not safe enough for this information. I will inform Gendry in person when I fly back to Eastwatch in a few days and we'll take it from there."
  
  "I'll never betray a single one of your secrets, Jon. I already swore that before." Sam's honest eyes were eagerly trained on his friend's face.
  
  "This is a Targaryen secret, passed on only to the head of House Targaryen, to be disclosed only to the limited number of people necessary to assist House Targaryen in uh"
  
  "In making Valyrian Steel?" Sam guessed his eyes wide as saucers now.
  
  "Indeed." Jon handed him the large scroll. "I didn't dare to put the result of the deciphering on it. Once I had translated it, I learned the decrypted version by hard and burned all written evidence of the formula in the normal tongue."
  
  "Ingredients we were missing?" Sam asked.
  
  "Two drops of blood of old Valyria. Maester Aemon recommends to experiment with my blood first and then compare the results with another batch using Dany's blood. And as you already surmised, we will need dragonfire. Those two ingredients ensure only we can make manufacture it."
  
  Sam studied the encrypted text. "It sure is a long description. There must be more to it."
  
  "It is a complicated process. First you melt the steel and mix it with the two drops of fresh blood and heat it with dragonfire. Then you have to let the mix cool down on its own time. A sennight later you melt it again and add one twentieth of dragonglass. Again you heat this mix with dragonfire and let it cool down naturally. Next you wait a sennight and repeat the procedure adding another twentieth of dragonglass. Seven days later you melt it one last time using normal fire and treat the mixture as you would treat high quality steel. That is it in a nutshell. More detailed instructions that will make more sense to Gendry than to us are added in there. The end of the letter quotes the honour code that the Head of House Targaryen needs to adhere to. He is only allowed to produce a limited number of these weapons using these instructions. He also has to promise to use them only to do good, protect the weak and only hurt those who intend to cause harm. If he allows others the use of these Valyrian steel weapons, he needs to catalogue them carefully and House Targaryen remains responsible for all actions the owner commits using the steel he has been gifted. Better read yourself how many things are forbidden and how many restrictions apply."
  
  "I think your ancestors were wise to put these in place. I wonder why there aren't..." Sam paused and studied Jon. "Oh but of course there are, aren't there. How many restrictions apply to the use of your dragons?"
  
  Jon looked at him feeling a sudden kinship with his friend. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips. "Only you Sam." He shook his head. "Only you get all of this with only a hint of an explanation."
  
  He paused and leaned forward again. "There are a great many restriction in place for that too, as you can well imagine. I will tell you one day when we have more time. For now please adhere to these edicts. Don't write any of this down, not in code, not now, not ever. Commit everything to memory and only talk to me about it. Don't let others view Uncle Aemon's scroll. In his letter there is also mention of a secret hiding place here on Dragonstone. Never venture there unless you are in my company. I will find a way to slip away from my Kingsguard one night and we'll check it out together."
  
  Sam nodded after every sentence Jon pronounced. "I solemnly promise, Jon. You now that. Am I right that you haven't told anyone about this, not even Uncle Benjen nor Davos?"
  
  "Nor am I allowed to tell Dany." Jon sighed. "The only reason you are the exception to extremely strict rules is that you are allowed to know some things in your function of Grand Maester to House Targaryen. I realise that according to the rules and laws of the Seven Kingdoms and the Citadel, you are not officially a Maester yet, let alone a Grand Maester. But if I strip away all the formalities and use common sense and intuition, you are that person that has the abilities and the required loyalty necessary for the position. I trust you blindly."
  
  Jon touched Sam's arm. "I know in a few years you will have read a thousand more books and forged an impressive Maester's chain. But even now, I dare every Maester in Westeros to measure himself against your logical reasoning skills and eidetic memory. Events in time will catch up and make the situation I perceive as actual, official in a few years."
  
  Sam was speechless.
  
  "Sam?" Jon asked after a while.
  
  "I am honoured, Jon. Allow me some time to wrap my head around this. Of course I knew you trusted me. You have proved that often enough. But this, to hear you proclaim that I am entitled to hear secrets not even your Hand or your Queen who is pure Valyrian Royalty are privy to is a bit overwhelming. And on top of that you just declared that you view me as an actual Maester already."
  
  "I do, Sam. Let me make a quick visit to the privy. Perhaps when I return you will have gathered your wits enough to hear me out and do some research on a problem I am struggling with." Jon rose from his chair.
  
  "Uh of course, Jon. I'll wait for you here." Sam saw his friends walk to the door still in a daze. He shook his head and tried to gather his wits.
  
  Two days later Jon and Dany were walking hand in hand to the largest tavern of the small settlement on the Driftmark. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell had left the day before so they could meet the Prince and Princess on arrival. A requirement of Ser Gerold that Jon had agreed to willingly. He was glad his Lord Commander and Davos had not objected to him taking a day off from his duties and flying to the Driftmark. Upon Ser Gerold's request, Jon had produced a detailed itinerary of his plans for the day. The Prince had made them promise to keep it all a secret from Dany.
  
  Dany looked around the town square and greeted everyone with a big smile. During the visit with his grandmother, Ser Barristan had taken the time to spread the word that the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone were visiting and had asked the inhabitants to respect the young couple's privacy since they only had the one vacation day and had opted to spend it at the Driftmark. The knight had been surprised to learn how loved Jon was here and how willing they all were to allow their Prince to wander around the settlement as if he still lived amongst them.
  
  They all kept their distance and only spoke to him when he approached of his own accord and addressed them first. So far during the short walk from his foster-grandmother's home to the inn, he had introduced a few female servants and an elderly man to the Princess and they had spent some time conversing with the blacksmith and visited his modest shop.
  
  The Princess looked lovely in a blue summer gown that contrasted with the grey and brown attire of the smallfolk. Jon had asked her to pack a dress so she could change on the island. She had appeared in the same coat and breaches she had worn for their first dragonride and had a small bag with her that contained a dress and some lighter footwear.
  
  They had started their day walking along the cliffs of Dragonstone to the dragons' resting place. Jon had spent the night before last with Rhaegal and Viserion and had asked them to come along on this trip. Jon and Dany had mounted Rhaegal and Viserion flew alongside them, also wanting to visit the spot where he had been hatched. Since the weather was nice enough, the four of them circled Dragonstone and the Driftmark twice before landing near the caves where Jon had spent so much time raising his dragons.
  
  Dany had used the opportunity to change into her summer dress. They had left the dragons at the caves and had met up with Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell who were on horseback and had brought mounts for them as well. They had ridden at a slow pace toward the settlement enjoying the scenery as well as each other's company.
  
  Jon felt himself relax for the first time in a long while. He had not bound his curls together opting to let the wind play with his locks. Today he would spend not a single moment thinking about strategies, politics, audiences or other duties. He had looked at Dany and had seen a similar joy in her eyes.
  
  Too soon they had arrived at the settlement. He had quickly dismounted so he could be the one to assist Dany. He had held her a bit longer than necessary and had kissed her hair before he had released her. They had arrived for lunch with his foster-grandmother. Their next stop had been the inn and they had opted to leave their horses behind and walk the small distance.
  
  So now they were crossing the town square and Jon gestured to a few children who were looking at them and were clearly longing to approach. A few carried flowers, some others the drawings Jon was familiar with. Dany bent down and gracefully accepted the gifts, bestowing each of the children a small peck on their cheeks.
  
  Jon smiled indulgently and asked for his own kiss. To the hilarity of the children she gave him an innocent peck on his nose. Jon then answered a few of their questions, mostly about the whereabouts of his dragons and how big they had grown and then waved goodbye to them all. Putting his arm around Dany's shoulder, he guided her to the inn where the innkeeper was already waiting for them in the doorway.
  
  As always the man bowed deeply and greeted them with excessive grovelling. Jon took it all in stride and guided Dany to a table where he sat down next to her on the wooden bench their thighs touching each other.
  
  "What are we doing here, Jon? The weather is so nice outside and we just spent a long time cooped up inside with your grandmother."
  
  "That sound as if you didn't enjoy the stories she told you about some of my childhood exploits. You sure fooled me when the tears rolled over your cheeks from laughing at my expense." He pouted but his eyes danced with mirth when he remembered the delightful time they had enjoyed with his foster-grandmother.
  
  "I did enjoy visiting your grandmother. You were lucky, Jon. You found a warm home here. We must make sure to visit her regularly. She looks old and frail." Dany covered his hand that lay on the table with hers.
  
  "I know," he sighed. "I try to visit each time I am in the neighbourhood. It is not easy though, taking time off when there is so much at stake."
  
  "Yet you devote an entire day to me." Her eyes conveyed her appreciation and she leaned a bit closer.
  
  "I did it as much for me as for you. Who knows what will happen up north?" The warm look in his eyes dimmed a bit.
  
  "Aegon, don't say that." The grip of her hand that was still keeping his prisoner tightened.
  
  "I only meant to say," he rephrased. "Who knows how long before I will be able to return."
  
  "And then you are off to King's Landing." Her voice sounded a little forlorn.
  
  He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.
  
  "Ah, but if all goes well, you will be able to join me a few days later and start preparing for our marriage and coronation."
  
  She put her free hand on his mouth. "Don't jinx it."
  
  A cough made her drop her fingers from his mouth and releasing his hand, she sat up straighter. The innkeeper looking a bit hesitant, bowed when they turned their attention to him.
  
  "My Prince, my Princess, can I offer you some refreshments on the house. We have made fresh water sweetened with wild berries. There is also the choice between sweet Arbor Gold, the stronger Dornish Red, ale or water."
  
  "I'd like a cup of the berry water." Daenerys answered politely.
  
  "Make that two," Jon decided and made a strange hand gesture to the innkeeper behind Dany's back.
  
  The man beamed and nodded hurrying back to his counter.
  
  "Now will you tell me why we are here? I doubt it is because they have the best sweetened water in the realm." Daenerys had turned her head back to him.
  
  He gave her a quick peck on her cheek. "Don't be so impatient. Aren't you enjoying your day? We'll take a long walk on the beach later."
  
  Jon was watching the innkeeper fill gather their cups and a pitcher, his eyes kept following the man's every move. After they had been served, the innkeeper next visited the two tables where his Kingsguards had taken a seat and served them a pint of ale each. Ser Barristan sat at table near the front entrance. Ser Oswell was seated at another table near the inner door that led to a hallway and the small room where Jon had met Lord Varys a while ago. Finally the man gestured discreetly to someone in a dark corner who had been there long before Jon and Dany entered.
  
  A relieved smile lit Jon's features and he gently took Dany's hand and raised it to his mouth. Looking deeply into her purple eyes, he kissed the tip of each finger slowly and listened for the first tunes of the enchanting music to start.
  
  A while later, Dany sighed contently, her eyes were closed and her body was resting against Jon's side. "That was so beautiful, Aegon. She wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye. No wonder Lord Varys was proud of his achievement. I felt so sorry for this girl in the song. And if I didn't know any better, I would try to find her and help her find her way to her homeland. And the music accompanied the words so perfectly."
  
  "Wait here," Jon said and tenderly steadied her so she no longer relied on him to keep her upright. He went over to the minstrel, whispered a few words and handed the man a few coins.
  
  The music started once more, but now there were no words accompanying the enchanting melody. Jon held out his hand and bowed toward her. "Will you allow me this dance, my Princess?"
  
  Dany took his hand that helped her up from the bench and curtsied. "I don't know how to perform this dance." She whispered in his ear when he took her in his arms.
  
  "Just hold on to me," he whispered back and guided her head against his shoulder, his arms encircling her waist. "We'll just sway slowly to the rhythm of the music."
  
  "I'll remember this moment forever." She sighed of contentment and followed his lead.
  
  "Even if we are cooped up inside on such a lovely day?" He teased.
  
  "Shut up so I can enjoy the music," she responded in a quiet voice without skipping a beat.
  
  Jon smiled, kissed her hair and kept rocking her to the rhythm of the music. Even if he had been quick to tease her, he had been in full agreement with her earlier statement. He would also remember this moment for as long as the Gods granted him to stay alive.
  
  "I can't believe you were able to arrange all this so quickly, Aegon." Dany thanked him for the third time since they had left the tavern. "Engaging that minstrel was a very thoughtful gesture."
  
  "I am glad you appreciate it that much." Jon answered enjoying their stroll along the sandy beach. They were walking hand in hand, barefoot, carrying their footwear in their hands. Each time a stronger wave came rolling, their feet got submerged by salty water.
  
  "Irri seems to have settled in nicely." Jon's free hand touched one of her braids. "I deduced that she was the one to help you style your braids this morning. Your hair has been arranged in the exact same style as you wore it the first time I ever laid eyes on you in Pentos. "
  
  "You remembered?" Daenerys stopped and looked at him with wonder in her eyes.
  
  "I remember everything about that day. I conjured up the image often enough before I fell asleep at night waiting for you to come to Dragonstone."
  
  Jon looked over his shoulder and saw Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan talking to a fisherman. He used the opportunity to pull her into him and gave her a quick kiss on her lips.
  
  Dany looked past him in the same direction before pulling him in for a longer kiss. "I dreamt of our children last night." She murmured against his lips
  
  "You did? And how many would there have been?" He smiled and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth.
  
  "Three, two silverhaired ones and one with dark curls." She sighed and leaned into him.
  
  "Mmmh, what are the chances that I am the father of at least one of them?" He teased relishing the feel of her body relaxing into his.
  
  "Aegon!" She protested putting her hands on his chest applying a bit of pressure so there was once again some space between them.
  
  "Just kidding, my sweet. I'll pray tonight that our dreams come true." He put his hands on top of hers that still lay against his chest and caressed the back of them with his thumb.
  
  "Our dreams? You dreamed it as well? Aegon, was it once of those dreams that can come true?" Her eyes had widened in surprise.
  
  "Greendreams, Dany. That's what Lord Reed calls them. And yes, I had some. I am half Targaryen after all." His eyes had lost their playfulness and she knew he was speaking the truth.
  
  "And you would have told me that eventually?"
  
  "Of course. Probably in the midst of making them." His voice grew deeper, his eyes darker and he drew her lower body against his again letting her feel the effect she had on him.
  
  "Aegon, they are heading our way again." Her cheeks had a lovely rosy colour and he kissed each one of them before releasing her.
  
  They resumed their walk. Jon with his arm tightly around her waist, their sides touching each other with each step they took.
  
  He leaned his head towards her and whispered sensually in her ear. "I dream of that too, you know. Not a greendream, just a dream of a man who is in love. I dream of us together in a big featherbed and how I enjoy hearing your moans as I pleasure you."
  
  "Am I embarrassing you?" He asked when he saw the colour of her cheeks grow a deeper red than before.
  
  "Perhaps a little. Irri has been explaining some of this in detail. Your words are making me feel exactly as she described. I feel a tingling, a longing deep in my belly. It makes me want to rub my legs together." She whispered averting her eyes embarrassed at her confession.
  
  "Please look at me. Never feel embarrassed or afraid to tell me how you feel, dearest." Jon reassured her. "I will want to know what feels good when I touch you. And I certainly want you to tell me to stop when I do things you'd rather not have me do or when the Gods forbid I might hurt you. That is the only way we will both be able to enjoy our couplings. And that is my goal since I will want to couple often."
  
  A short silence fell between them and they walked on for a while before Daenerys gathered the courage to respond. "Irri told me uh men want to do it all the time. Women don't feel the need that often but are uh obliged to be uh available for their husbands and are not allowed to complain."
  
  Jon stopped walking and waited to speak until she looked at him. "I'll consider it a challenge. I won't force you to do anything when you do not feel like it but I will do everything in my power to convince you to change your mind. I will make you long for my caresses, my kisses and I will not rest until you beg me to place my member inside you and to take you over and over again."
  
  "Aegon, stop. I am getting uncomfortable." Dany whispered beet red now. "My smallclothes are getting moist."
  
  Jon looked around. "If only we were alone in a secluded spot. I would lick you clean down there."
  
  "Aegon, you are only making things worse." She whispered.
  
  Jon kissed her hair. "I am sorry, my love. I was only trying to prove a point. Not only men have desires. Just ask Irri. The fact that you are growing wet down there means that your body is yearning for our coupling. I have been told that some women want it more often than men."
  
  Jon looked over his shoulder to his Kingsguards who were keeping a discreet distance but were looking at them all the same. He swallowed thickly. "Let's resume our walk."
  
  "Aegon, you promised me before you wouldn't take my maidenhood before we were married in the eyes of the Old Gods." Her eyes were still smoldering with arousal when she looked at him.
  
  He tightened the grip on her shoulder for a moment. "And I won't. But there are many things we might do without taking the final step. Just ask Irri." He repeated his earlier advice.
  
  He freed her shoulder and instead took her hand and weaved their fingers together. "Let's cool off a bit." He proposed and pulled her closer to the shoreline until they were ankle-deep in the salty water. In a normal conversational tone he asked her. "Have you taken steps to appoint ladies-in-waiting yet?"
  
  "No I haven't. I intended to wait until everything was out in the open. That way I can get to know more noble ladies and have a wider choice than the few who are allowed to know that I am in Westeros".
  
  "And what do you think about the comment Prince Oberyn made about Ser Jorah?" Jon asked her while observing the colour of her cheeks slowly returning to a more normal hue.
  
  "He has been with me since before Ser Darry died. I have no reason to mistrust him." She looked at him.
  
  "Yet you seem hesitant." Jon remarked. "I only met him a few times that one sennight but I recall you writing to me how he was willing to take on a fierce looking Dothraki Khal who towered over him."
  
  "I shall write him that he should come to Dragonstone as soon as he has obtained the information Varys needs." She decided.
  
  Jon kissed the top of her head. "Let's head back to the stables behind my grandmother's home. That way we can reach Dragonstone before it is dark. I promised Ser Gerold not to stay out too late."
  
  "Oh," she exclaimed disappointed.
  
  "I only accepted after he agreed to arrange for us to enter the castle unseen and weather permitting, our supper will be served on the balcony in your room. Irri will need to be present in your bedchamber as a chaperone so your virtue isn't in any danger." He smiled when he saw the joy reappear in her eyes.
  
  "Better Irri than my former Septa." Dany replied relieved that their fairy tale like day wasn't coming to a close yet. "Thank you, Aegon. You really could not have planned a lovelier day for me."
  
  He kissed the top of her head once more and repeated his earlier confession. "I did it for you as well as for myself, my love."
  
  No more words were spoken for a time. They enjoyed the last moments of their short vacation at the Driftmark.
  
  The next day, everything went back to its normal routine. Only now, when things got tedious, Jon had the memories of that day to keep him motivated to work towards his goal. All these audiences and strategy meetings were just small steps in the big plan that would get him on the throne next to the Queen of his heart and the mother of his future children.
  
  He spent many hours reading messages and answering them. The tidings from Winterfell were all positive. Lord Reed knew to expect him for another quick visit and the status reports from the Wall were confirming everything was still moving forward according to plan.
  
  He had finished a long message and sat back trying to imagine his life in King's Landing. His thoughts wandered to the heightened security measures here and wondered how it would be once he was King. Seven Kingsguards would be dedicated exclusively to his protection. He sighed and considered how bored Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell must be standing about in the hallway while he was safely ensconced in his rooms taking his time writing messages. Perhaps there would be even more attending the doors of his royal quarters in the Red Keep. He frowned suddenly and quickly made for the door.
  
  "Ser Gerold, might I have a word? Would come in, please?" Jon stepped aside to let his Lord Commander in.
  
  "Something the matter, my Prince?" Ser Gerold asked as soon as the door closed behind him.
  
  "Not with me, not now." Jon answered. "I know we decided not to discuss the Royal Guard until after I return from beyond the Wall, but I there is something that has been nagging at me ever since our conversation on this topic."
  
  Ser Gerold kept his stiff posture even though his Prince gestured from him to take a seat at the table across from him.
  
  "If it is in my power to enlighten you, I am only too willing to do so." He answered formally.
  
  Jon sighed. Perhaps he should have asked Ser Arthur. The Sword of the Morning was less formal and a bit easier to talk to. "Ever since our discussion on the separation of duties between the three divisions of the Royal Guard, I have been wondering how you three happened to be at the Tower of Joy and Ser Barristan at the Trident. You were all White Knights, sworn to protect King Aerys II who resided in the Red Keep during the Rebellion. You were his Lord Commander."
  
  Jon had to look up to see the knight's expression change. Now it was Ser Gerold's turn to sigh. He dropped his shoulders a little and belatedly accepted the offered chair.
  
  "That is a fair question that has a rather delicate answer." He admitted after was seated.
  
  "I didn't mean to put you on the spot and I am glad you all survived." Jon hesitated but continued. "I just want to understand."
  
  "It was not easy to serve King Aerys II the last years of his reign, my Prince. Not only was he contradicting his own orders, he had been growing paranoid and it became clear to those close to him who saw him daily that he was no longer fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms. We were all suffering under the whims of a man who showed increasing signs of madness.
  
  Your father, Prince Rhaegar confided in us his plans to overthrow his father for the sake of the realm and ask for our support. If all had gone according to plan, your father would have garnered the support of the important Lords of the realm at the tourney of Harrenhal but at the last moment King Aerys II decided to grace the tournament with his presence and the plans were delayed."
  
  "That still doesn't explain things." Jon ventured when Ser Gerold paused.
  
  "I am getting there, my Prince. I just recounted the delayed coup to make you understand that we sort of regarded your father as the Rightful King from that moment on. When the Rebellion started and they began to win battles, your grandfather the King ordered most of his Kingsguard to help the war effort. He was safe in the Red Keep and we would be of more use helping his son lead the royal army into battle and defeat the rebels once and for all. When I tried to protest he threatened to have me killed. His paranoia had made him execute more than one loyal man so I relented and left with Prince Rhaegar."
  
  "To fight at the Trident?" Jon asked
  
  "To follow Prince Rhaegar. This happened some time before the battle of the Trident." Ser Gerold amended. "From that moment on I obeyed the command of my Prince and future King. Even if at one point his orders were to stay behind and guard his pregnant wife in Dorne. I did object respectfully but adhered to his wishes when he all but begged me to comply. The rest is history."
  
  Their conversation had ended shortly after and Jon had thanked him and resumed his activities.
  
  The seventh night since Jon had arrived on Dragonstone he was plagued by strange dreams. He dreamed of vast plains of mountains of ice with no one around for as far as the eye could see. Then the dream shifted and he saw the Night King approaching him out of nowhere. Jon tried to move his feet but he couldn't lift either of them. They seemed stuck in the snow. Suddenly the dream shifted again and Jon realised immediately he was no longer dreaming. He saw the dead march toward Hardhome and felt helpless when they detected the scouts of the Free Folk and simply overpowered them making them march in their army mere moments later. A warning voice resounded in his head. 'Go North. It is time. Go North.'
  
  Jon departed the next day before dawn. He left a short apology for Dany and a concise message for Sam to read out loud to the members of his Small Council. He still made the promised stop at Greywater Watch.
  
  Lord Reed and Bran stood outside when he arrived. After a quick greeting all three began to talk at once. Then they all stopped and a silence fell.
  
  "Your Night King, he uses the trees to see us. Be careful near a heart tree. His magic is growing stronger." Lord Reed spoke quietly as if afraid others might overhear.
  
  "My Night King?" Jon remarked offended. "I came to warn you about a force pulling at me in the Godswood. Luckily I got away clean when Davos touched me. I could have sworn it was someone who meant me no harm at first before the feeling changed drastically."
  
  "That was me at first. I am so sorry to have put you in harm's way." Bran confessed. "I was experimenting. I just had been taught greenseers were able to contact each other over a vast distance using the heart trees as a medium." His little cousin bowed his head in shame.
  
  "I don't blame you, Bran. But your teacher should have known better." He turned to Lord Reed. "Why are you so sure it was the Night King that took over?"
  
  "I have no doubt about this." Lord Reed affirmed ignoring the slight directed at him. "I recognised him from another vision. Beware Jon, the Night King is a powerful greenseer as well."
  
  "I had sort of reached that conclusion myself. But now that I know the danger, I will not pray in front of a heart tree in solitude any longer. I'll always see to it that someone has my back. Do you think others are in danger as well? I can't decree that the Lords of the North are temporarily forbidden to pray to the Old Gods."
  
  "I don't think so." Lord Reed exchanged a look with Bran. "We are fairly sure he is searching for you, Jon. He found out somehow that you are the Son of Ice and Fire and the fate of the realm will be decided between the both of you. He might have had the same vision you had."
  
  Jon ignored the use of another dramatic title for his role in the coming war and looked at his young cousin. "I pray he hasn't seen more than the three of us combined. Are you okay, Bran? He hasn't threatened you?"
  
  "I am okay, Jon. I am careful and stay close to Lord Reed as much as possible. Did you know already that I can fly a long distance inside a bird now? I am training with an eagle, just like your friend Orell. Lord Reed and I have been thinking of ways to help you. We do not want you to face the Night King alone. When the time comes, we want to be there. Not in person but in the mind of a bird or an animal. Perhaps we can distract him during your fight." His cousin's enthusiasm grew.
  
  "Those are future strategies. I am not about to face the Night King for some time. I only came here to warn you about the dangers of being alone in a Godswood. I'm sorry but something urges me north. I feel compelled to hurry. If you have no more news, I would like to continue my journey right this instant.
  
  Lord Reed gestured for a servant to approach. "At least take these provisions with you. It is a cake baked with a lot of greens in them. Keep up your strength. You will need it for the coming fight. Take care, Jon." His eyes accentuated his words as did the deliberate gesture of placing the bag in Jon's hands and holding on to these hands a little bit longer than usual.
  
  They took their leave of each other with a short group embrace and moments later, Jon was in the air again.
  
  Interlude 31: Tournament preparations
  
  "No you are not allowed to raise your prices." Yohn Royce reprimanded the delegation of innkeepers. "The Crown will investigate each complaint. We will send out broadcasters to announce the proscribed price for a room and encourage anyone that is being charged more to come forward."
  
  "This is the only time of the year we can make a decent profit." The spokesman of the innkeepers protested.
  
  "Nonsense," Lord Royce ignored the exaggerated complaint. "Now let's talk about the price of food and drink."
  
  The Regent of the Vale sighed unobtrusively. At first he had been proud to be given such a big responsibility. He had even been given a temporary position on King Robert's Small Council and had learned a lot already. But now he knew why Lord Eddard Stark had proclaimed him Chief Organiser of the Royal Tournament. It was just a grand title for a long list of annoying tasks.
  
  He still had to check the sites where the tents were planned to be raised. He needed to see to the other tents meant to shelter the royal family and their more important guests when they viewed the spectacle unhindered by any type of weather. Then he needed to see to the tents that had been allowed to be set up just outside the city gates to house the new arrivals for whom no longer rooms could be found inside the city walls.
  
  The City Watch needed to be briefed about the extra duties one more time, the tradesmen needed to increase the import of food and drink. Temporary decrees about access to certain streets, extra torches, the expanding of the training yards for the jousters, smaller tents for the knights and their squires, temporary barracks to house the extra equipment, he sighed and checked the long list one more time. Oh he had forgotten all about the translators he had asked to come over. Perhaps he could find room for them with a noble family willing to take them in for a small fee.
  
  "Lord Royce?" A servant entered the room he had been assigned to receive the delegations he needed to negotiate with. "More knights wanting to enlist have arrived and are currently waiting in the courtyard. But first the Hand of the King asks if you would attend him and the King in the King's study." The servant bowed and left the room.
  
  Lord Royce turned his attention back to the innkeepers who were still lingering near the exit, unwilling to depart before attempting to negotiate a better deal once more time.
  
  "We are finished here, gentlemen. Be sure to heed these rules. The crown will keep a close eye on the situation." His tone left no room to wiggle. The fact that he was the one to quit the room abruptly, ended the meeting anyway. With big strides he headed for the opposite side of the Red Keep.
  
  "If only the tournament were finished already. Or even better, if only the Targaryen Prince swept up the throne already then this cursed tournament would surely be cancelled." He muttered under his breath while he approached the King's study.
  
  "Ah, Lord Royce. Thank you for coming so swiftly. We have a small request to make of you." The Hand of the King stood to the side of the room. The King sat behind his large ostentatious desk both hands on his belly looking expectantly at Lord Royce.
  
  Not long after, Lord Royce left the room not knowing if he should feel honoured or trapped. He had just agreed to spend the next day going on a hunt with his Grace, King Robert. His Hand needed to see to urgent matters of state and the King needed someone he could trust and act as a substitute friend. And of course the valiant Regent of the Vale was the best choice and would he please also be willing to make all the arrangements? He had been tasked to ask the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to see to extra security in light of the recent assassination attempts, enquire after the new armour and make sure that it fit the contours of the Kings slightly enlarged girth.
  
  He startled when Prince Oberyn stopped him on his way to the stable master. The Prince gestured him to enter the private stable where the full blood stallion of the Prince of Dorne had been given shelter. "Lord Stark asked if I were willing to join the royal hunt but I declined. Listen to me. First of all, let Thoros of Myr help you with the tournament preparations. Not only will you benefit greatly from his assistance, the man has been talking of leaving because he felt useless here and we want him in the capital when our Prince arrives." Prince Oberyn smiled slyly at a confused Lord Royce.
  
  "I want you to keep your eyes and ears open and find out all the little habits of the King when out on a hunt. How long does he pursue an animal? What is the animal he prefers to hunt? Does he perform the kill himself? What does he eat, drink? How often does he rest? Things like that. Report only to me and for heavens' sake do not tell Eddard Stark about our conversation."
  
  "Why the Seven Hells not?" Lord Royce was taken aback by this unusual request. "What are you scheming this time?"
  
  "Something Varys and I have come up with together, I'll have you know. Something to help the Prince's cause along. Lord Varys has received the Prince's permission to circumvent his Uncle, the Hand of the King if necessary. We need to keep the man honest." Prince Oberyn slightly bent the truth.
  
  "Doing this will help the Targaryen Prince?" Lord Royce asked to be sure.
  
  "Certainly. And he will be very grateful to you afterwards. I'll make sure he knows you were essential in bringing this plan to its successful conclusion." Prince Oberyn tapped the shoulders of the Knight of the Vale.
  
  "I'll report back to you this evening if I am able to find you." Lord Royce promised having made up his mind.
  
  "Don't worry about it. I'll find you. If not, Varys will contact you and you can relay all you have observed during your hunt tomorrow to him. Now make the necessary arrangements for the hunt and then find Thoros of Myr and let him take over some of the preparations for the tournament you were planning on carrying out tomorrow."
  
  Without waiting for a reaction, Prince Oberyn pushed him out of the spacious stable toward the small shed where the stable master could be found.
  
  Later that night Lord Royce lay awake, thinking things through. He had decided to just play along for now. He was not made for these duplicitous political games. He took heart in the conversation between him and Lord Stark the other night. They had been discussing how to appease King Robert's demands to send more spies to Essos to report on the activities of the Targaryen Princess. Lord Stark had shared his feelings of unease but had comforted him stating that things would be different under his nephew's rule. The Targaryen Prince held his honour as high as a trueborn Stark.
  
  "Soon things will get better." He muttered to himself before he drifted off in a dreamless sleep.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter will finally feature the battle beyond the Wall.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The battle near Hardhome
  Chapter 32: The battle near Hardhome
  
  Summary:
  
  The dead attack.
  
  Notes:
  
  As always Ravenousreadr did her best to improve the reading quality of the chapter. Thanks dear friend!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon had left his dragons on the beach near the fortress of Eastwatch and waited patiently for the large gates to be opened. Walking through them he noticed immediately that the guards had been doubled and extra bolts had been added to the gate. Once inside he observed several new lookout posts and fortifications. Quickly crossing the courtyard he neared the blacksmith's workshop.
  
  None of the familiar hammering sounds could be heard when he approached the main entrance of the building. He was about to reach for the door handle when the guard that had been assigned to accompany him to the main building spoke up.
  
  "He left for Hardhome a few days ago. Some friends of his arrived with a delegation of men from the northern houses. They all left together and took the white wolf with them."
  
  "Was there a lady among these friends?" Jon asked just to be absolutely certain that Lady Brienne, Edric and Loras had reached Eastwatch safely.
  
  "Yes, big as a man she was. She rode up front when the group entered our gates. Behaved as if she owned the place, she did. She was accompanied by a large Lord, a son from house Umber I think but he made it quite clear she wasn't his wife. Commander Belmore will likely be able to tell you more."
  
  They stopped before the main building. Jon turned to the guard and dismissed him with authority. "Thanks for escorting me. I can find my way to the commander's quarters easily from here."
  
  "Your welcome, Prince." The man hesitated but turned and left without further comment.
  
  Relieved that the man had agreed to leave him alone, Jon quickly searched for a secluded spot and leaned against a wall. For most of the way here, he had been so focused on his dragons, merging their minds as he flew in. He had also spent considerable time mentally rehashing all the warfare advice he had received during their last strategy meeting on Dragonstone. All this had kept him so busy that he had not once reached out to his direwolf. He closed his eyes and easily slipped into Ghost's skin.
  
  His direwolf was running along a long row of foot soldiers until he reached the front of the caravan. Through Ghost's red eyes he saw Lady Brienne leading the caravan flanked by a man all dressed in black and another one bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Greatjon but much younger than the head of house Umber. Behind them rode Edric and Loras closely followed by Gendry atop a large horse. Gendry was engaged in an easy conversation with Rykker and Stokeworth.
  
  Searching Ghost's mind for the distance the caravan had already travelled, Jon realised that if he continued his journey today, he would still be able to arrive at Hardhome before them. Being a dragonrider had its perks. He reassured Ghost to continue onwards promising he would meet up with them at their destination and severed the connection. Pushing himself off of the wall, he walked with big strides towards to the end of the hallway.
  
  Elbert Belmore, the garrison commander at Eastwatch received him readily and allowed him to read Sandor Clegane's message that had prompted everyone to leave without waiting for the Prince and his dragons. When Jon had finished reading Sandor's chicken scratch, Belmore told him that even though he had not joined the delegation personally, he had appointed an experienced ranger going by the name of Stane to command the one hundred and fifty men he had selected to join the fight. He also volunteered the information that Stokeworth and Rykker were part of that group. A raven from Cotter Pyke at Castle Black brought the news that two hundred Night's Watch recruits were travelling from Castle Black to Hardhome to help defend the Free Folk settlement. They were led by Jaime Lannister and scheduled to arrive there in four days at the latest.
  
  "The guard that escorted me here told me a delegation from the northern houses arrived as well?" Jon asked when the commander fell silent.
  
  "Indeed. They were led here by Lord Umber's third son, Osric Umber, a lady Brienne of Tarth and a few other noble men. A lot of Boltons amongst them I must say." His peculiar tone when he uttered this last piece of information indicated he wouldn't mind hearing some details about what had transpired at the Dreadfort a moon earlier.
  
  Jon nodded but offered no further information. Instead he changed the subject and remarked how impressed he was with the heightened security measures, congratulating the man on all that had been accomplished in the short time since his previous visit.
  
  Belmore shrugged his shoulders. "I only followed orders. You never know what will happen once you engage such a formidable enemy. I can't begin to imagine what a host of fifty thousand strong looks like. I hope the dragons can make a difference. They are magnificent creatures."
  
  "They are." Jon agreed. "So you are prepared for the eventuality that part of the enemy might come for the Wall here?"
  
  "Cotter Pyke was very insistent that the Wall is our last line of defense and my place as the commander of Eastwatch is here. Under my leadership, the remaining members of the Night's Watch will make sure that not a single wight or magical ice creature will reach the other side of the Wall. We are ready to defend the entrance to the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.
  
  Jon nodded. "I am glad that the Night's Watch takes the threat so seriously. Thanks for bringing me up to speed. I won't take up more of your time and will leave for Hardhome immediately. Hopefully we will see each other soon with good tidings to impart. Keep well, Commander Belmore." Jon's tone indicated that the interview was at an end.
  
  "Good fortune in the battle to come, my Prince." Elbert Belmore responded with the formal send-off appropriate when men left to engage an enemy. "I will pray you, your dragons and my men will all return safely to Eastwatch before long.
  
  Soon after Jon and his dragons flew low over the beautiful green and white landscape. Hardhome was already visible in the distance when he spotted the large caravan below him. The dragons screeched and he could see the caravan stutter to a halt when most of the men's heads turned toward the sky. To oblige them, Viserion and Rhaegal flew a few low circles over the group. Jon used the opportunity to wave at them before he asked the dragons to pick up speed again and head for the settlement of Hardhome.
  
  Sandor and Tormund were there to welcome him as soon as he emerged from the woods where the dragons had landed. After the hugs were dispensed with, Jon joined a large group around a campfire and accepted a bowl of steaming stew. While he ate, Sandor brought him up to speed. According to the latest scouting reports, both from the air and from scouts on the grounds, the enemy had picked up their pace and would reach the appointed spot in less than a sennight.
  
  "Much earlier than we estimated." Jon sighed. "The good news is that they are still on the right course then." Jon swallowed another tasteful spoonful of delicious gravy. He bowl was almost empty.
  
  "It is as if they can sense the thousands of warm blooded bodies for them to recruit and grow more eager the nearer they get." Tormund grunted. "Want a refill?" He held out his hand to accept Jon's empty bowl.
  
  "I'd love a bit more. Perhaps half a portion? This is really delicious." Jon answered.
  
  "Clegane's spearwife hunted the boar but lucky for you, someone else made the stew." Tormund showed nearly all his teeth when he grinned.
  
  "Ygritte is here then?" Jon turned to Sandor who had been a silent observer until now.
  
  "Wild horses couldn't have kept her away. So I didn't even try to persuade her to stay behind." Sandor answered looking slightly embarrassed.
  
  "More like your red-haired minx didn't trust the other spearwives not to steel her most prized possession." Tormund teased benevolently. "She has been boasting far and wide that she caught the strongest, fiercest male who knows when to dominate and when to yield between her furs."
  
  "Then she only has herself to blame when other women want to steal him. She should have kept all his nicer qualities a secret. Sandor sure kept some of them from us." Jon teased and looked from Tormund's grinning face to Sandor's red cheeks.
  
  "Best get her with child as soon as possible, Sandor." The new father offered his advice. "Once you share a child together, the Free Folk will respect your claim on her and hers on you. I experience this every day and still can't get used to it." Tormund shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.
  
  "That I can imagine." Jon continued the banter. "Poor Tormund here misses the salivating females when he struts past them."
  
  "Myra's not here and my hand is out of practice." Tormund Giantsbane moved his hips suggestively. "Want to help out?"
  
  "Thanks but no thanks." Jon smiled slipping more easily in the open, coarser ways of communicating with the Free Folk now than during his former visits. "About that stew you promised me?"
  
  It was dark when the combined forces of the northern houses and the Night's Watch rangers from Eastwatch reached Hardhome. Their arrival had been heralded by Ghost who unceremoniously entered Jon's tent not long after Jon had finished setting it up. Jon had been in the process of spreading his furs into a makeshift bed when he got toppled by his direwolf and fell upon the heap of furs. After being licked, nudged and sniffed all over Jon pushed Ghost off him and persuaded the direwolf to guide him to the new arrivals.
  
  A warm welcome and some introductions followed but were cut short because of the dark and cold at this time of night. Jon and some of the Free Folk ordered to do so by Tormund helped the new arrivals to set up camp. Even if the atmosphere between the strange mixture of men was rather tense, the tents were erected in record time and they all agreed to reconvene in the morning since the travellers were tired and half frozen from traipsing across the icy landscape for several days.
  
  Ghost had stayed glued to Jon's side the entire time and the both of them quickly retired to Jon's small tent to enjoy a cosy night sleeping closely together relishing each other's nearness and body warmth. But not before Jon had read the letters from Robb and Uncle Benjen that Lady Brienne had handed him.
  
  The next morning Tormund fetched him for breakfast and after sharing a light meal with Sandor and Ygritte inside their small tent, he helped set up a larger tent for a war council. This time several men of Free Folk offered the Dragonrider their help without Tormund needing to urge them on. The extra hands were readily accepted since a strong wind made their task rather difficult. Not long after, Jon's friends started to emerge from their tents one by one. Ghost jumped Gendry as soon as the dark haired young men showed his face.
  
  "Do I have a reason to be jealous?" Jon smiled when he saw Gendry having trouble not to lose his balance when his direwolf front paws leaned heavily against Gendry's chest.
  
  Gendry raised one eyebrow in mock dismay. "You better thank me for taking such good care of this sweet direwolf that you so shamefully abandoned." Gendry petted Ghost's head and scratched him behind his ears. "Poor Ghost keeps getting left behind when you fly all over the realm."
  
  "Thank you my dear and loyal Gendry for taking care of poor lonesome Ghost." Jon's overstated show of obedience got an answering grin from Gendry. "And a good morning to you my dear friend. I trust you slept well?" Jon added.
  
  "Fairly. I missed my warm companion that no doubt slept in your tent. So no, you have no reason to be jealous. Instead I had to suffer the company of Edric and Loras Tyrell." His blue Baratheon eyes studied Jon. "You look well, Jon. Things all right on Dragonstone?" Gendry released Ghost who immediately positioned himself near Jon again.
  
  "Dany sends her greetings." Jon's happy smile while he absently petted Ghost said it all.
  
  "That well uh?" Gendry looked at Jon trying to read more details of his face.
  
  "We're betrothed." Jon beamed but jumped when somebody touched his shoulder.
  
  "Did I hear this right?" Edric exclaimed coming up behind Jon, his mouth close to Jon's ear. "Are you the first one of us to chain himself to a female?"
  
  "Is she as lovely as the rumours say she is?" Loras Tyrell piped in.
  
  "Congratulations, my Prince." Lady Brienne offered him with a bow.
  
  "Thanks" Jon had turned and addressed the three that had snuck up on them. "But please keep it quiet for now. We are at war. There is a time and a place for such a topic and it is not now. I will tell you all about my lovely princess as soon as we have dealt with what is coming for us. Eat your breakfast and tell me about Robb instead. I want to hear from you how he has been doing. His letter only speaks of how well his arm has been healing and how he had everything under control at Winterfell."
  
  While Sandor and Tormund roused the rest of the encampment to spread the word that the leaders were expected at the war council shortly after breakfast, Jon and Ghost sat down and kept their friends company while they broke their fast. Jon was content to just sit there quietly and be a silent participant, listening to their easy banter typical for people used to being in each other's company for long stretches of time. At least their reports of Robb were positive. His cousin's nightmares were becoming less frequent and Robb was itching to resume his training.
  
  Ghost reluctantly agreed to stay outside when Jon neared the larger tent where most of the men had already gathered. Rykker and Stokeworth greeted him at the entrance. They took up guard under a canopy further shielded by a side pane from the rather strong wind that blew in from the north and made it feel extra cold this morning.
  
  "Only first ranger Stane still needs to arrive. The rest are already inside waiting for you." Rykker announced and opened a flap to allow Jon to enter the war tent.
  
  Lord Osric Umber, third son of the Greatjon Umber was there representing a group of almost two hundred men sent by several houses of the North. He had also assumed command of the Bolton contingent. Male servants and guards from the Dreadfort had all volunteered to join the fight. If they fought valiantly they would be given the chance to pledge a new oath to their Lord and return to their home and kin as free men. Lord Domeric Bolton had asked Lord Umber's son to keep an eye on this group since Domeric Bolton had only shortly been released at Winterfell and was needed to set things to right at the Dreadfort. He handed Jon a letter from Lord Bolton that contained further explanations and probably some pledges of loyalty and obedience.
  
  Tormund of course spoke for the Free Folk he had brought along from Mance Rayder's settlement. He introduced Jon to a few of the elders who represented the people living at Hardhome. A Skagosi named Stane entered at that point and introduced himself as the one representing the men of the Night's Watch that had come from Eastwatch. Jon would later learn from Rykker that Stane had voluntarily joined the Night's Watch when he was barely fourteen years old and was a well-respected first ranger at Eastwatch.
  
  Sandor was present as well. His only contribution to the meeting was to inform everyone that they could expect reinforcements from Castle Black to reach them in a few days. They were led by Jaime Lannister. For the rest of the meeting Clegane kept silent, his eyes mostly resting on Jon.
  
  Tormund quickly apprised everybody of the traps that were already in place and the ones they still hoped to complete with the help of the Dragonrider. Dragonfire could thaw the frozen ground which would speed up the digging of the trenches along the flank where they planned to put a barrier of pikes to set aflame. The last day before the enemy was upon them, Jon would use his dragons to weaken the ice on the borders of the large frozen lake where they intended to trap and destroy the enemy if all went well.
  
  Jon relayed to them the pieces of advice he had been given by his Kingsguards on Dragonstone. He warned everyone to stay vigilant, dress warm enough and move about when you felt the cold creep in.
  
  "Do not bring your usual steel weapons and carry several pieces of dragonglass. See that enough torches and fire sources are available to burn our own dead should we suffer losses. Be prepared for a longer period of darkness than normal for this time of the season and expect the enemy to learn and devise countermeasures as the battle goes on.
  
  But the most important thing is to aim for the White Walkers. Aim for their chest and use only dragonglass when you confront them. Fire or steel is useless against them. The wights are more easily defeated. They are extremely vulnerable to dragonglass, just pierce them anywhere. One shallow cut and they perish. Setting them alight with fire is also very effective.
  
  We should also prepare at least one healer's tent close behind our battle lines. The less experienced warriors can help bring our wounded there to give them better odds at surviving."
  
  When everyone nodded and Jon stressed once more how the use of dragonglass would save their lives, Tormund rolled his eyes. Jon didn't hesitate to address his big friend with a telling look on his face.
  
  "Have your scouts been reporting back regularly?"
  
  "Half of them have not yet returned." Tormund looked at Jon, a worried frown appearing on his forehead. "Have you seen something when you flew in?"
  
  "No I haven't. Let's just say I have a bad feeling." Jon was not willing to elaborate on the source of his intelligence. Who would take him seriously if he explained that he dreamt of their scouts being incorporated in the army of the dead?
  
  "I suggest you do not send more out for the time being. Is Orell here or are there any other skinchangers available?" He asked instead. "We better limit ourselves to scouting from up high for now. If the enemy gets closer, scouts on the ground will be in grave danger. The enemy host is extensive. They can cover a large area. Once detected, our scouts are easily outnumbered and don't stand a chance."
  
  "Has anyone any questions so far?" Jon asked looking one by one at the grave faces of the men assembled in the war tent.
  
  "Burning our own fallen friends, is that really necessary?" Osric Umber asked. "Their families at home will not understand."
  
  "We can't run the risk of them becoming slaves of the White Walkers. Can you imagine yourself fighting your best friend who has become a mindless warrior who knows no fear and feels no pain and will take of your head if you don't defend yourself?"
  
  Lord Umber was speechless. He shook his head in denial.
  
  Jon continued on. "As I see it there are only two choices. If one of our own falls, you can either burn his body directly but remember his name so all names of our brave fallen defenders can be recorded for posterity, or if circumstance allow for it and you have the opportunity without jeopardising your own life during the battle, you can firmly bind your fallen fellow soldier's hands and feet."
  
  Jon sighed deeply and gazed seriously at Lord Umber now. "Even if you successfully tied up our own dead and they happen to be resurrected, you will still have to burn their bodies. But there is a chance it won't come to that and you can take them home for a ceremonial burial."
  
  Osric looked around and addressed the men of the Free Folk. "Do you all believe that what the Prince says is possible?"
  
  "I fought dead children of my tribe once. I cut off the little boy's arm with my own sword but he kept coming at me. Even when I beheaded him, his tiny body kept creeping toward me." It was one of the representatives from Hardhome who spoke up. "I also fought a wildcat that looked more like a skeleton. The Dragonriders speaks true. They raise the dead."
  
  A silence followed these words and Lord Umber swallowed and bowed his head starting to accept that this would be a different fight than he could ever have imagined.
  
  Jon cleared his throat and was quick to move their attention away from the morbid topic. The best way was to get the men to concentrate on the battle strategy. It would also give them hope that they could win the battle without suffering too many losses.
  
  "Now let's talk about the positions each of your men will take up and how we will need to move as one to lure the enemy further on the ice. Tormund, can you explain the strategy we devised together with Mance Rayder?"
  
  In the end it was decided that Jon would leave the scouting to Orell and a fellow warg while he and his dragons devoted their time to helping the men dig the trenches.
  
  The war council reconvened that evening to hear the reports of the scouting mission. It became clear that there were only two days left before the enemy reached the appointed spot. Jon reassured them that they had made enormous progress today with the traps and that they would be ready for the enemy.
  
  There was much worse news. The White Walkers had also sent a small contingent to the west to prevent the reinforcements marching towards them from Castle Black to reach their ranks in time for the battle.
  
  Jon had counted on that group of men under the command of Jaime Lannister. Several amongst them had fought the dead at the Fist of the First Men and knew what they were facing. He had also hoped that Jaime Lannister could have taken a look at their battleplan and perhaps could have made some last minute recommendations. But most of all, he had counted on the former knight to lead a part of the attack if not coordinate with all the other leaders and take charge of the entire battle on the ground.
  
  Jon's first impulsive reaction had been to take his dragons and help the group from Castle Black get past the dead but he had been halted by Orell's words. The skinchanger had reminded him that the main host of the dead were near. The Dragonrider was sorely needed here for the last preparations.
  
  Moreover, he would play right in the enemy's cards if he drew the dragons away from the larger battle they were about to face. Jon had been reassured by the fact that the forces Jaime Lannister was bringing outnumbered the enemy heading for them by about three to one. They would only be delayed and would eventually reach them. Just not in time to be briefed before the start of the battle.
  
  One thing was clear now. The enemy knew what they were about and had a way to scout as well. Perhaps White Walkers were also wargs or had some other form of magic at their disposal. It was a scary thought. During the war council everyone had supported Orell, the men from the North for once agreeing without argument with Sandor, Tormund and several other leaders of the Free Folk. So Jon had relented and had stayed put. He had worked hard helping them put the last traps in place and had started to weaken the borders of the lake. The final weakening would be done just before the enemy came into their line of sight. If he did it a bit too early, the stretch of weakened ice would just grow thicker again and all his efforts would have been for naught.
  
  When Orell's final scouting report reached them with a new headcount of the enemy's forces, they all agreed that the next morning, the fighting force would set up camp further away from the settlement of Hardhome nearer to the location they had chosen to confront the enemy.
  
  Jon with the help of Tormund had finally been able to persuade the leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome to evacuate their weakest members to the ships. Nobody could guarantee that all the traps would work flawlessly and that they would successfully prevent a part of the enemy's main host to split from the rest and head straight for all the warm living bodies at Hardhome.
  
  There only needed to be a single strategist amongst the enemy, one White Walker who got the bright idea to attack the settlement and countless lives could be lost. Jon knew they did not have the numbers to contain fifty thousand wights if not all of them walked into their trap. If that happened, the settlement at Hardhome was in great danger of being overrun.
  
  He once more cursed the fact that it had not been possible to bring the Free Folk south of the Wall. They could have used the natural defenses built by his ancestors instead of being forced to meet an enemy that far outnumbered them in open country. Hopefully by the time the Night King finally made his appearance, which Jon prayed would still be a long, long time from now, the Lords of the North and the leaders of the Free Folk would have put aside their pride. Then the younger children and other Free Folk members not able to fight for one reason or other would be safe south of the Wall.
  
  Now however, they had to rely on all the small obstacles they had put in place along the path the enemy was travelling so they would chose the easier path and walk straight onto the frozen lake. The Free Folk had worked hard on that and the skinchangers were keeping a close eye on the situation. If they did stray from the course that had been laid out for them, Jon would set part of the forest on fire to force them back on track.
  
  No matter what precautions had been taken, evacuation was still the best way of safeguarding the non-fighting population of the Free Folk. When that decision had finally been reached, Jon described the best way to go about that, using the strategy worked out by Davos and Ser Gerold. They had devised detailed plans not only for a swift embarkment but also to arrange the defenses on the ships in case of an attack.
  
  Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell had not been happy to have been assigned the responsibility of overseeing the evacuation and organising the defenses of the fleet with refugees. But Jon had been adamant. They would be more helpful there. To silence Lady Brienne he had put her in command of the defense of the entire fleet. She had stopped protesting after he had given her a scroll written by Ser Gerold Hightower himself, detailing what weapons to take with them and some pointers on how to defend a fleet and to establish communications between the ships.
  
  Jon didn't reveal to her, Edric nor Loras Tyrell that he preferred the leaders of his army to be men who had seen the enemy before and realised what they were up against. His friends had arrived when most of the preparations were in place and had never seen a wight before. And even though he knew that they would have agreed to be relegated to the role of simple foot soldiers, Jon would feel better if he knew they were making themselves useful in what would hopefully turn out to be a safer place.
  
  Around noon on the last day before the battle, Jon ordered everyone with the exception of the appointed guards to take some time to rest up. They would all have to report for battle before the sun disappeared behind the large mountaintop. The leaders reconvened in the war tent to go over the strategy one last time. It was necessary that they all moved in sync and knew what to do with the wounded and their own dead. Two tents dedicated to look after the wounded had been set up behind the battle lines and healers of the Free Folk were in charge of making these ready to accommodate as many victims as possible. Jon spent his last moments of peace seated against a tree with Ghost's head in his lap and his dragons slumbering a few feet away.
  
  Shortly before dusk
  
  'You can prepare for battle all you want. You can be brave, have excellent plans and believe in your fellow soldiers. The fear still creeps up on you. If it hasn't already, it will probably grip you in the time between finishing preparations and the start of the battle. It will course through you while you are standing there next to your fellow comrade-in-arms, in your protective gear armed to the teeth with nothing left to do than to wait for the enemy host to appear. Just as everyone around you, you are scared stiff but pretend to be brave just the same.
  
  To prevent you from shivering, you might try to crack a lame joke to the one standing to your left or right. You might even move your limbs a little to prevent them from getting stiff from the cold but you have to keep in mind not to break the lines and keep to your prearranged position. All the strategies are in place, everyone knows their role to play and once more you put on a blank face and go back to waiting and keeping silent to make sure you will be able to hear the sounds you have been told the approaching enemy will be making.'
  
  It was a passage from a book on warfare that Sam had read aloud to Jon to distract him and help settle his stomach when he had been ill on Dragonstone. The text seemed apt when he examined the impressive rows of their forces. Everything was prepared. They had done all they could. Every last man had received clear instructions. Their commanders had warned them to brace themselves and stay firm no matter what came for them, be it dead people, smelly rotten corpses of undead animals, or even mystical ice creatures. "Stay in formation and stick to the plan."
  
  Jon all dressed up for battle as well now reached the front line of the ranks. Even though he had never lived through a battle of this scale, he was no stranger to the fear that tries to overpower you right before a fight to the death. Walking through the ranks he was sure each of the men felt it deep down, even though few would admit to it, even if one were to ask them point blank. Jon walked by many soldiers. He smiled and nodded at them and was aware that most of the men were making every effort to put on a brave front. Just like the passage Sam had read to him. Some even smiled and wished him good fortune. The cocky ones that showed no fear were the ones in the most danger. At least that is what Ser Arthur had told him often enough. 'It is better to fear your enemy than to overestimate yourself.'
  
  "See you after we have won and we will all share a pint together." Jon had overheard several versions of that phrase from men speaking to their neighbouring brothers in arms. He kept walking past as many as possible in an attempt to bolster morale. He sometimes stopped to say a few words but it quickly became clear to him that that wasn't enough to lift the predominant mood of fear. He couldn't blame them. Even Tormund's bold stare had wavered when Orell had told him the results of his last scouting mission.
  
  The dead were marching toward them, their ranks had swollen with every living being they had found, be it animals or unfortunate scout. They numbered over fifty thousand easily.
  
  Jon heard the sound of a horn. He stilled and waited. Two more blasts followed. This was the confirmation the enemy had been sighted by the look outs up in the trees at the northern end of the lake. This was confirmation that Jon had made the right decision. His war council had been right. There had not been enough time to help the group from Castle Black and be back here for the start of the battle. His presence on the lake was crucial to their plan. He needed to trap them on the ice. Wights couldn't swim. If he could melt the three edges of the frozen lake not facing the sea, no matter how many wights the enemy showed up with, they would all be sitting ducks for the dragonfire and dragonglass projectiles. They also counted on the fact that large chunks of ice would give in under their combined weight.
  
  The army of the living stood at the ready on the southern side of the lake. Every single one of them heavily armed. The ones on the front lines had large shields they could hide behind. They held a dragonglass weapon of their choice in the other hand and had one or more daggers tugged away in their belt. The following rows had two dragonglass weapons at the ready, one in each hand and also at least one spare item tucked under their belt. At least thanks to Gendry they had dragonglass weapons in abundance. He had almost walked along the entire width of the front lines and looked back over his shoulder to take in the impressive lines of warriors that started near the woods and only stopped near the shoreline. Resuming his inspection he suddenly halted when he saw Gendry standing ready on the first row with a large Warhammer on the ground beside him. Even though it was dark as hell by now, he easily recognised the distinctive silhouette of his friend and approached him.
  
  "Gendry, don't do anything reckless. Stay in formation. I need you to stay alive, you hear. Stick to the plan."
  
  "As long as the plan works, I will, Jon. If not, I'll improvise. Don't worry about me." He showed his belt that contained several daggers and knifes to throw. His warhammer had been modified and now had several dragonglass spikes on all sides. "I will stay and protect the archers. But you know as well as I do that some, probably many of those dead abominations will break through and reach our ranks. I've come prepared."
  
  "Stay safe, Gendry." Jon now petted his direwolf's head. Since Jon would fight from the sky, he had ordered Ghost to keep Gendry company. He touched his wolf's forehead and reaffirmed his order.
  
  "Ghost, stay with Gendry and guard the men here. Rhaegal and Viserion will look after me in the sky. I'll be safe." Ghost whined quietly but bowed his head which Jon recognised as the direwolf's reluctant acceptance of the situation.
  
  He had reached the shoreline and walked towards the large group of archers who would hopefully be the ones to make the largest number of casualties. If all went well the two armies would not really clash but be separated by a large gap of melted ice. The wights would be sitting ducks and be vulnerable to the rain of dragonglass arrows these men would launch upon them. He nodded and said some encouraging words while he walked past them to reach the small cavalry that was hidden back there. When he was close enough to be seen in the darkness, he nodded to Sandor who had been tasked to lead this small group of men on horseback.
  
  His former Kingsguard had been part of every strategy meeting. Jon remembered Sandor's mumbling that the meetings here were fucking more boring than the ones held by Ser Gerold. Jon couldn't blame him. But with the ragtag army they had assembled here, they needed to have a simple strategy. One understood by everyone and most of all they had needed a lot of patience to persuade every untrained soldier of the Free Folk that discipline and staying in formation could mean the difference between winning and losing a battle against this particular enemy.
  
  Reaching the back of the ranks Jon noticed several men shooting him nervous glances. His walk through the ranks had not been enough. Many men had not even gotten a glimpse of him. The men needed something more. They needed to see the might of the dragons. They needed to hear the right words. Words that could take the fear that could potentially cripple them and turn it in a form of positive energy they could use. He needed to find words that could transform their fear into fury, into hatred towards their enemy. Suddenly Jon knew what he had to do.
  
  He hurried over to the place where the dragons were waiting for him. He felt their anxiety mingle with his own feelings. Rhaegal didn't hesitate and lowered his wing so Jon could mount him. Moments later the two dragons were in the air. Approximately nine thousand heads turned upwards now.
  
  Jon knew seeing the Dragonrider and his two mighty dragons at close range might give the men hope. And hope was the best motivation when you stood freezing in the snow and mud before a frozen lake waiting for your worst nightmare to attack you. He hoovered on his impressive green dragon in front of them, letting Viserion light up the sky occasionally and tried to appeal to their honour and pride. He repeated his speech three times, in three different location before the wide ranks so all the men were able to hear his words clearly at least once. He shouted as loud as his voice would allow him.
  
  "This will be the fight of nightmares, the worst kind of enemy you will ever face. But we are the living. We have brains, tactics and superior weapons. We know our enemy's weaknesses. Forget your steel swords, fight with the dragonglass and use fire as we showed you and we, the living will prevail. They may come at us with superior numbers but they are just mindless corpses. We have a good plan and we have two dragons. If we close ranks, they will not stand a chance. The living will prevail.
  
  This night is a night for the history books. Everyone who fights here this night will be remembered as the heroes of this day and age. Songs will be sung about you, about the brave strong men up in the cold North that put aside thousands of years of infighting. Crows and Wildlings, Free Folk and men of the Night's Watch standing side by side with the people that live south of the Wall to defeat the true enemy. Because defeat them we will!
  
  Tonight we all are the protectors of the living. We are the shields that guard the realms of men. Tonight we are the heroes that fight for the living. We fight for our future, for our children's future and for the future of all the generations still to come. Because we are the living! And we fight for the living!"
  
  "For the Living! For the living." First some of the Free Folk but soon the entire army picked up the chant. The loud roar of two dragons could be heard and for a short moment all fear was forgotten. Pride and resolve had taken its place. The men could picture their survival. They could not keep their eyes off the two powerful dragons and felt safe in the knowledge that the enemy faced those fearsome beasts. The living had the Dragonrider on their side. They had a good plan. The living would prevail!
  
  Jon flew alongside the frontline one more time reviewing the ranks. They all kept south of the frozen lake. When some had uttered the idea of hiding in the woods to flank the enemy Jon had slightly amended the idea.
  
  "They can sense us. I do not know how. I do not know whether it is because they can hear our heartbeat, sense our warmth or whether they use some sort of magic. All I know is that they can sense the living. And if they discover we have men stationed along the flank, they might venture off the lake too early and our plan will fail. Our trap will fail and we will be overrun before we can do anything about it. And the ones who were sent to flank them will all die. They would go on a suicide mission and their corpses might be forced to fight us next. Certainly you all remembered what happened to our scouts?"
  
  Everyone attending the war council in the large tent had nodded their head in agreement. They knew all too well what had happened. Orell and another warg had done most of the scouting until then but had needed to rest up before the battle. The few scouts that had volunteered boasting they were the best and would never be detected, had not returned. When Orell urged by Jon had investigated, he had not brought back good news. The skinchanger had witnessed through the eyes of his eagle how hundreds of dead wights had all turned their heads as one in the direction of a scout and the unfortunate man had been overrun and soon marched alongside the dead back to the main host. He had become one of them.
  
  From atop his dragon, Jon studied the ranks one last time and was proud of what they had accomplished in the last few days. For the moment even the Free Folk formed close, almost orderly formations. The only free spaces between the ranks were for the fires they had going, fires not only to provide light and warmth, but fire for the archers to light their conventional arrows. He could also see the men that were carrying torches in their left hand. They had orders to burn their fallen allies if necessary. Jon prayed that they could trap most of the enemy swiftly and prevent close combat. It would certainly lessen the chance of fatalities.
  
  At first sight, the entire army of the living was comprised of Free Folk. When he flew over the east part of the ranks, he spotted the men of the Night's Watch stationed at Eastwatch that had come out to help defend the coast line. Their black coats separated them easily from the white and grey furs the Free Folk were wearing.
  
  Next to them stood the delegation from the houses of the North. These men were predominantly dressed in dark grey colours. Jon knew the group consisted of several second and third sons of the noble houses, joined by trained houseguards and a contingent of smallfolk who had volunteered. Two hundred men would probably not make a big difference. But the fact that they had showed up here at all was historic and meant a great deal. Not only in forging an alliance between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Folk but they could lend credit to Jon's claim of being the defender of the realm and herald him as a war hero.
  
  The last small group he spotted was the delegation from the Dreadfort. Even though these men were also under the command of Lord Umber, the Bolton contingent was not fully accepted. This was underlined by the small gap between the two groups.
  
  Now Jon looked to his right and tried to scan the sea but it was too dark. His ships were out there somewhere a small distance from the coast but far enough not to become a target for the ice spears or arrows from the enemy. He could picture in his mind how the vessels were lying deep into the water. Each ship was filled to capacity with the elderly, the pregnant women and the younger children. That part of the plan had been carried out flawlessly. If the worst happened, Lady Brienne had orders to set sail for Skagos.
  
  Jon had been present at the start of the evacuation and had even helped some of them board. Not many young women had been present. Only the ones who were visibly pregnant had agreed to evacuate. Young girls that had not flowered and young boys under twelve namedays made up most of the group selected to board the ships. Aside the pregnant women, they were a minority of elderly men and women. Jon knew most of them had tried to join the fighting. The leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome had needed to use all their authority to get their older population to agree to help the others board the ship and stay there themselves. They had been given weapons and promised a role in the defense of the ships in case of an attack.
  
  Jon had seen several wrinkled old men with grey beards standing bravely between the younger men in the battle lines before the frozen lake. They were identically dressed and also armed to the teeth. The youngest boys allowed to stay with the army had been given smaller tasks that were vital. They all carried baskets with arrows, daggers, short swords to keep everyone provisioned. Some would also move through the ranks from one commander to another to relay messages and commands during those times when the noise and chaos prevented the men from hearing the latest orders that were being shouted.
  
  Women, spearwives more exactly, made up almost half of the Free Folk numbers. If you saw them standing there looking even more determined than some of the men, you wouldn't give the opponent a chance. Jon and Orell knew better of course. They were the only ones who had seen the enemy approach. Wights as far as the eye could see, poor slaves, but with deadly intent towards the living.
  
  'It will be mercy that we are showing those poor souls.' Jon thought. 'We will release them from their slavery.' He felt a shiver run over his back and knew they were close before he saw them or registered their screams. A large host of wights were marching toward the lake. It wouldn't be long now. Rhaegal and Viserion tensed at the sight. Jon tried to calm them but his own heart was beating fast. He looked at Viserion and they split up. Jon flew to the front of the lake, Viserion to the back. Both dragons simultaneously lit the spikes they had smeared with tar that flanked the woods. The wights close to that side moved to the left.
  
  The fires helped everyone to see clearly at what pace the enemy was approaching. They would also provide an extra barrier between the enemy and the mounted forces of Sandor Clegane that would flank them once the trap was sprung. The fires served their purpose for now. All wights whether they were undead humans or undead animals were now forced to advance in one direction, flanked by fire to their right and the sea to their left. Jon flew back over the enemy host scanning the army to locate the White Walkers. Despite the darkness they were easy to spot. They towered over most of their foot soldiers, sitting straight on a carcass that once used to be a horse. One even rode on an undead white bear. Jon flew back to his own forces, Viserion close behind."
  
  "Up front one White Walker to the left, one in the middle. None close to the water. I spotted at least two others in the middle and three at the rear. Aim for them if you can," he yelled at Tormund who led the center. Tormund Giantsbane didn't hesitate and dispatched a few young boys in all directions to inform the rest of their forces."
  
  Jon turned and studied the wights marching forward on the frozen lake. The ice didn't crack no matter how many wights joined the vanguard. Jon held Viserion back. 'Wait until they reach the center of the lake at least.' He sent the thought by way of Rhaegal. He now clearly distinguished the shouts from the commanders on the ground. They were urging everyone to hold their positions.
  
  "Do not take a step, do not advance. Stick to the plan." The echo of these shouts could be heard over the entire length of the front lines.
  
  Jon ascended so he was high enough to be out of reach of enemy weapons. It seemed to him as if it took forever for the first section of wights to reach the center of the lake. Jon figured by now almost half of the night was already gone. That hopefully meant the fight would not last too long.
  
  He realised all too well that many of the men suffered from the cold by now and hadn't been able to sleep much during the day. Pre-fight anxiety had made most of them restless. He comforted himself with the knowledge that at first light they would know more. Jon reckoned that either they had won by then and the enemy would be retreating or the fight would have been halted one way or another by an enemy that planned to return the next night to renew their attack on the living. Jon refused to consider there could be a third possibility. Defeat was not an option.
  
  Finally the first wights had crossed more than half of the length of the large lake. Jon would soon take action, knowing that after the first burst of dragonfire lit up the sky, the living would start reigning arrows. He waited a bit longer still a bit disappointed that the ice pelt held the weight of the enormous number of enemy soldiers. Not a single crack appeared. It seemed the ice in the middle of the lake was a lot stronger than they had all anticipated.
  
  As soon as he gave his permission, Rhaegal and Viserion dove down and flew over the enemy host. More than three quarters of the wights had made it onto the large lake. Reaching the end he held on to Rhaegal's spikes when they made a sharp turn and started burning through the ice nearest the line of burning spikes that protected the entrance to the woods.
  
  The moment he flew low over the ice he could feel the biting cold the enemy was emanating. He no longer wondered why the ice didn't crack under their weight. They used magic to drop the temperature. Not only did the ice carry the weight of the thousands of wights, the dragons' first bursts of dragonfire upon the weakened borders of ice weren't as successful as he had hoped. They had melted a few holes in the ice but not the straight line creating the wide gap they had been aiming for. Jon turned around ready to repeat the gesture. This time they had more success. A large gap appeared between the frozen lake and the woods.
  
  He heard the commanders shout and saw the army of the living take a few steps back and the men on the front lines ducked down. The archers loosened their arrows and almost entirely in sync the entire host moved another few steps backwards. Another salvo of arrows once more reigned on the wights. Jon saw hundreds of inert corpses littering the ice. Thousands however kept advancing without hesitation.
  
  Again the living retreated a few steps. There was a large gap now between the south border of the lake and his allied forces. Jon knew what he had to do. As previously agreed upon, he waited for the third salvo to reach the enemy and dove to create a gap between their forces and the lake. This time he needed to make three runs to create a gap wide enough to keep his forces safe from clashing with the enemy anytime soon. Satisfied with the time he had bought them, he flew over the entire length of the lake to reach the rear of the attacking army. Viserion and Rhaegal now targeted the wights that had not stepped upon the lake yet, burning their rear guard driving the enemy forward.
  
  "Climb" he yelled at his dragons when he saw a White Walker throw an ice spear. His dragons made an elegant evading turn and rose higher, the spear now flying harmlessly between the two of them. Jon looked down and saw most of the enemy's army had reached the large rectangular surface of the lake. At least that part of the plan was working.
  
  The small cavalry stationed at Eastwatch had been joined by the few mounted men from the Free Folk settlement that had arrived on their sturdy horses. Sandor featured prominently amongst them and had been given command. They had stayed hidden behind their ranks until now. Sandor whistled and they raced as one toward the woods. They halted behind the burning pikes and formed an orderly line so they were now flanking the enemy who was separated from them by the melted ice and the flames of the burning pikes. From their new position they started to rain arrows with dragonglass tips. A few shadow cats leapt across the slowly narrowing gap and were aiming for the horses.
  
  Jon still at the northern end of the lake dove down once more and completed the trap by melting the ice at the far end of the lake. As far as he could see in the darkness, the entire wight army was situated on the lake. They couldn't retreat hence from where they came. The entire length of the lake was cordoned off by burning pikes and melted ice on one side and the sea on the other. In front of them the enemy had to defend themselves against a steady rain of either burning arrows or dragonglass arrowheads. Their shrieks were deafening even from up high. Jon ears were hurting from the shrill, nasty sound. He flew along the length of the lake once more widening the existing gap were his cavalry was holding off the enemy as best as they could. Several burning remains of dead animals were proof that their lines had been breached several times already.
  
  A horn blew. Jon looked toward the sound and saw it was their vanguard. Somehow a small part of the southern barrier of melted water had frozen over again and the first wights were engaging the front lines of his forces. For now the shield wall held but would soon be in danger of being overrun.
  
  Jon hurried over and even though he could do nothing about the dead that had already crossed the lake and were firmly ensconced between his own ranks, he could prevent more wights from crossing over and reaching their forces.
  
  Rhaegal and Viserion alternated attacks. Jon almost fell off several times when Rhaegal needed to execute a swift turn to avoid an ice spear. One hit Rhaegal but the angle had been crooked and it bounced of his scales. Jon however felt a surge of anger the likes of which he had never experienced before in his life and without further thought hurled a dragonglass dagger at the culprit. The White Walker distracted by Viserion's angry retaliating fire burst never saw it coming and when the dagger hit the creature clean in the chest, it exploded in thousands of ice crystals. Jon estimated that at least a several thousand wights dropped dead around the spot where the White Walker last sat atop his horse. He turned and quickly finished re-melting the gap that had been frozen over once more and numerous wights disappeared beneath the water.
  
  "Aim for the White Walkers." Jon shouted and pointed at the only White Walker close enough for their archers to reach.
  
  Jon did another fly over to melt the edges of the lake and keep the gap wide enough. He wondered why everything was always so much more difficult in reality then when you were drawing up your 'simple' battleplan. The archers could only do so much damage.
  
  They had counted on his dragons to burn through the enemy once they were trapped on the ice. They had also relied on the fact that a large part of the army would drown when the ice pelt cracked under the combined weight of fifty thousand wights. His dragons flew all over the place but instead of concentrating on burning wights in the middle of the lake where the arrows of their archers couldn't reach, Rhaegal and Viserion needed to abort their attacks regularly to keep the borders of melted water wide enough.
  
  The White Walkers were the ones that created the cold. That much had become abundantly clear. Rhaegal and Viserion kept burning through the enemy every chance they got but at this rate they would be exhausted long before their dragonfire could make enough impact. Fifty thousand wights were too much to deal with this way. Jon changed tactics and melted a corner of the lake effectively trapping at least a thousand wights on a large patch of ice. Viserion and Rhaegal kept forcing the wights to one side of their limited space until the ice cap capsized and the wights disappeared below the freezing water.
  
  He looked up when he heard loud cheers coming from the Free Folk. Wun Wun raised his arms in victory. He stood amidst a thousand of dead wights and a small heap of ice crystals. The giant had slain a White Walker. Jon noticed two other White Walkers move to the front lines. Probably to attempt to freeze over the southern barrier that separated them from the living. After another run to widen the southern border and the gap safeguarding his cavalry that attacked the enemy flank, he flew towards the rear to isolate another contingent and make a part of the ice pelt collapse.
  
  When Sandor blew his horn Jon aborted his attempt to drown more wights and once more melted the ice near the burning spikes to keep the enemy from overrunning their cavalry in the woods. He flew from left to right, from front to back and slowly Jon saw the enemy numbers diminishing even if their shrieks were still loud enough to hurt his eardrums. At one point the front lines had been overrun but before Jon could react to the blowing of their horn and intervene, another White Walker had been killed and most of the wights that had infiltrated his forces dropped down and the few remaining ones were defeated in no time.
  
  Finally the tide turned and the wights started to retreat. The fight was almost over and it was none too soon. Jon had felt Rhaegar waver in the air several times by now. Spewing so many bursts of fire for such a long time took a lot of energy. The moment Rhaegal felt his human was looking for a landing spot, the dragon gave in to his fatigue and almost tumbled down.
  
  Since Jon was near the north side of the lake close to the woods he quickly landed near the end of the line of burning spikes. Sandor's forces were some three hundred feet away. He could not see them because of the smoke from the fires but he knew they were close enough. He quickly dismounted so Rhaegal could lie down and rest a bit. As far as he could see in the dark, all activity had stopped. No more shrieks were heard, no more arrows rained down on the lake. He gathered that the battle had well and truly ended when he heard the cheering of the living increase.
  
  Jon sat down for a moment and let it all sink in. He had never experienced something like that before. He still heard the echo of the otherworldly shrieks of the wights, still felt the countless eerie blue eyes staring at him. He kept picturing the sheer numbers of human and animal remains that kept attacking even as dragonfire burned through their ranks. This enemy had no fear of defeat. They needed neither food nor rest. Jon was about to praise their luck that they somehow feared daylight and they were probably running off to hide somewhere safe before dawn when a shiver ran over his back. Something was wrong. He looked toward his forces. They all stood there facing the lake. The cheering had stopped. A horn blew three times in quick succession.
  
  Jon turned his head and looked right into the eyes of a White Walker that stood in the middle of the frozen lake. His white icy skin and blue light in his eyes somehow made him visible despite the darkness. The creature didn't move and stared at Jon with something akin to a smirk on his icy face. Jon got back to his feet and watched mesmerised as the White Walker raised his arms. All the wights that had fallen down like lifeless dolls when they had slayed the White Walkers stood back up and opened their eyes once more. Hundreds or mayhap thousands of undead heads turned towards Jon. More wights rose from below the water and crept back up from under the ice. Apparently drowning was not a final death for these strange creatures. A large part of this newly formed force marched towards Jon as one.
  
  "Fuck!" Jon turned to Rhaegal intent on mounting him and taking to the sky once more. He paled. Several wights that hadn't been defeated before had used the distraction caused by the resurrection of their allies on the lake to crawl closer to the green dragon without anyone noticing. Rhaegal screeched in agony, let out a large flame and flapped his wings to get rid of the ones trying to climb him. Viserion still in the air dove toward them and did his best to hinder the large force that was advancing on Jon.
  
  The temperature dropped and the gap between him and the lake froze solid. Realising that there was no opportunity to mount Rhaegal and that his only option was to stand his ground there and then, Jon took Blackfyre in his right hand and a dragonglass dagger in his left. He hardly had time to count to ten before the first wights were upon him. Luckily for Jon it were mindless animal wights and the Valyrian steel of Blackfyre sliced through them. Those he missed ran straight by and jumped Rhaegal instead.
  
  The wave of undead human wights that was almost upon him had not learned to fight in formation. Jon's sword sliced through them while he stepped backwards in an effort to join forces with Rhaegal. The dragon was still fighting of these nasty little wights. Jon felt Rhaegal's annoyance. He could only compare it to a human trying to get rid of red ants after stepping into one of their nests. They were a pest but couldn't really harm you. They kept Rhaegal busy though and he was no real help to Jon except for the fact that he provided an obstacle so they could not get to Jon from all sides.
  
  Despite Viserion's efforts, the wights not minding the danger they were in, kept running around their burning comrades that Viserion continued to put on fire. They seemed not to mind that many didn't make it. Those that did make it attacked Jon with deadly intent.
  
  Jon still standing his ground was getting encumbered by the carcasses that were piling up all around him. Avoiding a large swing of a rusty looking sword, he stepped sideways and his left foot stepped on some bones and slipped between them. Trying to avoid losing his balance, he shifted his foot a few times to reach the ground beneath the bones. That proved to be a dumb thing to do. Even though he managed to stay upright as he had intended, his left foot was stuck now and he could no longer move from the spot where he was standing. Now he was the one who was trapped.
  
  He felt something sting his left arm but ignored it and kept swinging both his sword and his dagger. He looked around assessing how many wights he still had to face when he saw the White Walker advance toward him. Still trying to free his foot, he slew five more wights before the ice creature was upon him. Jon dropped his dragonglass dagger and took his sword in both hands. Ignoring the cold the creature emitted he tried to concentrate and make his mind go blank. Time slowed down.
  
  This was it. If he did not defeat the enemy before him, the dead would win. Never mind what happened with the rest of the battle. He realised that the Night King waiting in the far north knew this as well. If Jon died out here today, the enemy would win the final battle no matter how long it took to get to that point. Jon was necessary to defeat the ultimate White Walker he had seen in his vision. He was the key to the survival of the entire realm. If he died out here today... A vision of Dany walking alongside the cliffs of Dragonstone flitted through his mind. He gritted his teeth. He would defend her. He would fight off every last undead abomination until he no longer drew breath.
  
  Jon concentrated and blocked the first few trust of the White Walker's icy sword but was helpless when the creature punched him in the stomach and sliced his thigh. Without his footwork his options were limited. He couldn't dodge, only counter. Jon barely countered the next swing in time. His left arm hurt from the force of the attack. He saw the follow-up stroke coming towards him in slow motion. He realised his parry would come too late. The icy tip came nearer and was perfectly aimed to pierce his heart. Jon was out of options. This was it. Humanity would lose the war. He made a last effort to speed up his counterstroke and refused to close his eyes.
  
  A big shadow next to him and a loud crack were all that he noticed at first. He tried to make sense of the fact that he was still breathing. He made a conscious effort to calm down the loud erratic beating of his heart making sure to take deep breaths. His vision cleared and he could distinguish the White Walker in his line of vision. The ice creature lay a few feet away but was already rising back to his feet his eerie eyes fixed solely on Jon. Jon broke their gaze and looked up to his right.
  
  "My left foot. I'm stuck." Jon informed Mag the Mighty of his predicament. The giant pulled Jon up, making the bones shift easily and put him down again on the other side of the heap of carcasses. Compared to the giant Jon looked like a toddler.
  
  "Dragonrider free. Fight on!" And the giant pulled out a large tree from behind him and swept at the enemy that kept coming at them. Jon looked at Rhaegal. The dragon had finally gotten rid of most of the wights. "Fly up, Rhaegal. Defend me from the sky." Rhaegal was quick to obey. Soon he joined his fire to Viserion's. Both dragons were now working together to keep more wights from reaching Jon.
  
  Still separated from the rest of their forces, Jon looked around assessing his predicament. A large host of wights stood between Sandor's cavalry and Jon. Together with Mag the Mighty he tried to stay alive until help could reach them or the last wight had been destroyed. From where he was standing he couldn't check what was happening on the other side of the lake. He reckoned the gap at the south side of the lake that had protected his forces would long have frozen back over by now. But neither Rhaegal nor Viserion was keen to leave his side and help the men over there. They both stayed to defend their human from the enemy that clearly targeted their human.
  
  Mag the Mighty was doing his utmost to hold of the wights but the giant was slowly being manoeuvred away from Jon. This was no mindless fight. The White Walkers had a clear strategy. Jon kept swinging his sword hardly aiming at anything consciously. Technique didn't matter against these wights. He had taken his dagger back out and swung both arms from left to right and up and down creating fluid figures moving his feet the entire time, turning, ducking, stretching.
  
  It felt as if he was performing some sort of strange dance. But for now it worked and he succeeded in keeping the enemy from slicing him to pieces. He tried not to think too far ahead. For each wight he killed another took his place and many were standing by waiting for their turn. Soon he would once again be in danger of losing his manoeuvrability because of the heap of carcasses that was growing around him. He stepped backward trying to find a natural barrier to protect his back. He had not the faintest idea how long he had been at it but felt his lungs burning and his arms growing heavy.
  
  The White Walker that had been thrown off his feet by the giant earlier was content to stand by and watch the proceedings. Rhaegal targeted him with dragonfire but somehow a cold shield around the White Walker saw to it that the fire didn't reach him. Jon changed tactics and tried to fight his way toward him but was blocked at every turn. He felt his sword arm burn from fatigue but kept on slicing. He had no choice. It was as if the White Walker sensed his weakening. The ice creature finally stepped forward, intent on facing Jon once more.
  
  "Mag, shield my back." Jon called out realising that the wights that had stepped aside to let the White Walker through were now trying to attack him from behind.
  
  "I try." The giant answered but was being swarmed from all sides.
  
  The screeching of the enemy seemed to intensify for some reason. Jon's ears were hurting. The noise prevented him from hearing much of what was happening elsewhere on the battlefield. That was the reason why Jon saw Jaime Lannister before he heard him. The man came charging through the woods on horseback. Together with a small group, he had circled around and came from the north side heading straight for Jon, slicing wights left and right. Immediately hundreds of wights changed direction to prevent them from reaching Jon. Sandor's forces were still pinned down by the enemy but somehow Jaime Lannister perhaps because he had the element of surprise on his side or perhaps because the man was driven by an extra motivation: saving the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, had succeeded to come closer than anyone else.
  
  Rhaegal sensing Jon's thoughts burned through the group of wights heading for Jaime Lannister. Before the man was able to reach Jon, his horse was struck by an ice spear. He jumped of his horse moments before the beast fell down. Landing on his feet, he pulled out a torch and lit it using the remnants of one of the fires lit by the dragons. His sword in one hand and the torch in the other a determined Jaime Lannister fought his way through countless wights and managed to reach Jon.
  
  Jon nodded at him and they positioned themselves back to back.
  
  "You have no Valyrian steel sword, I gather?" Jon asked between heavy breaths.
  
  "Only a precious Valyria dagger in my belt." Jaime replied.
  
  "Then leave the White Walker to me." Jon ordered.
  
  Jaime at first seemed to obey him and Jon turned and parried the first swing from the advancing White Walker.
  
  "Giant! To us!" Jaime roared at Mag the Mighty.
  
  "I try." The giant yelled back.
  
  The rest of the Jaime's cavalry were still trying to fight their way to their leader. More wights however appeared seemingly out of nowhere to block their path. Jaime Lannister was calculating his options quickly.
  
  "Hold on, my Prince." Jaime encouraged him.
  
  "I try." Jon mimicked the speech of the giant. "My arms are tiring though."
  
  "Then we better end this quickly." Jaime lit a few more wights on fire. "Gods there are many."
  
  Jon didn't reply. He saw a second White Walker closing in on them. "Lannister, look to my right!"
  
  "See him." Came the curt reply.
  
  "Lose your steel sword. It will shatter when it comes into contact with his icy weapon." Jon warned him.
  
  "Torch?" Jaime enquired.
  
  "They extinguish it with the cold they are emitting." Jon yelled back almost deaf himself from the never ending screeches of the wights.
  
  "Damn." Jaime threw his torch into an approaching wight and reached for a dragonglass dagger seeing the second White Walker would come in range soon.
  
  "Aim for his chest." Jon advised him before engaging his own opponent with an offensive swing having found some extra energy now that he saw his chances at survival rise again with the presence of Jaime Lannister.
  
  Jaime changed his mind at the last moment. His hand didn't go for the handle of the dragonglass dagger. That weapon was too short. He would be run through before he could make his first strike and if he threw it and missed the correct spot, he would be left without a means of defending himself. Instead he dug in his pocket and grabbed a number of dragonglass arrowheads and threw them at the White Walker with all his might.
  
  It was a desperate move but a genius one at the same time. Several arrowheads missed their target. A few touched the White Walker backwards with their blunt side, but two hit their target with the pointy end. One penetrated the creature's eye. The other reached the intended target. It hit the White Walker in the middle of his chest and the creature exploded before the eyes of a bewildered Jaime Lannister.
  
  "Fuck," was all the reaction he was able to get out. He saw hundreds of wights drop dead before them. Gathering his wits he approached Jon and almost pushed him to the side trying to take on the remaining White Walker himself. The ice creature however was firmly fixed on his target. No matter what Jaime tried. It turned and went after Jon.
  
  Jon was losing ground. No longer able to match the force of the strikes he used the dodging tactic he had learned and each time took step sideward so he could parry the strike only after it lost most of its momentum.
  
  Jaime used the last piece of dragonglass he carried on him and hurled the dragonglass dagger at the White Walker. It missed the optimal target but still embedded itself in the swordarm of the creature.
  
  The White Walker must have felt the impact because it turned its head to look at the object that had managed to pierce him. That distraction caused enough of a delay for Jon to switch from defence to offense. He aimed Blackfyre at the creature's chest and when the White Walker blocked the strike with less force than before, Jon could slowly force their linked weapons upwards. He used his left hand to plunge his own dragonglass dagger in the Walker's chest. Exhausted, Jon sank to his knees after the White Walker exploded and all the wights surrounding them dropped lifeless on the ground. Jaime was with him in two steps and helped him back on his feet.
  
  "We need to get out of here." He looked around frantically and gestured to the group of his men that had had managed to come within forty feet but stood staring unbelievingly at the lifeless heap of wights and dead animals. "Bring me a horse! Quick!"
  
  He helped Jon mount the animal and took a seat behind him. As soon as they left the spot, Viserion and Rhaegal started burning the wights that had dropped down after the defeat of the White Walkers. Jon could feel their exhaustion.
  
  "The dragons can't keep this up. We need to destroy the last of the White Walkers. We are going the wrong way."
  
  Jaime didn't respond. He stopped his horse only when they were safe behind their own lines at the south side of the lake
  
  "You are exhausted, my Prince. I'll go after them if you will hand me Blackfyre." He dismounted and helped Jon get of the horse.
  
  "We will all go if it is still necessary." Edd Tollet had reached them. "However I no longer think it is. Look! The enemy is retreating."
  
  Nobody dared to cheer this time. Everyone just stared at the lake. The wights that were still standing had stopped fighting and were indeed retreating.
  
  "We need to burn every single wight inert on the ice. We can't risk another resurrection." Jon spoke while breathing heavily. "Can someone hand me something to drink?"
  
  The men looked around. "Eat some snow for now." Edd Tollet advised him. "I'll see if I can find someone with a flask." Jon found a fresh patch of snow and cleaned his hands before he stuffed some snow into his mouth. He instantly felt refreshed. Next he washed his face with the fast melting snow.
  
  "I will take the men out on the lake and help the dragons set fire to the carcasses that are still out there." Edd Tollet volunteered.
  
  "A horse pulled up and Sandor dismounted. He had a gash on the unburnt part of his forehead and had to keep that eye closed. "Take my horse." He held the reins out to Edd Tollet. "Go burn the stupid cunts before they come back a third time." Sandor took Jon's arm to help keep him upright.
  
  Edd Tollet didn't waste a moment, mounted the big horse and rounded up some men. "We will concentrate on the side closest to the sea. Jon, can you ask the dragons to take care of the ones on the other side? I'd be pissed if they burned me."
  
  "Consider it done." Jon answered trying to tie a piece of cloth over the wound on his thigh. He had hardly felt it was there before but now could see and feel it bleeding profusely.
  
  Sandor helped him to sit down and knelt beside him. "Let me see to your arm." He turned to Lannister. "You take over bandaging his thigh. So he can fucking keep his arm still."
  
  "Thanks." Jon said when he reopened his eyes after communicating with Rhaegal and noticed that both men had finished securing a cloth on his arm and thigh. "I'll let a healer look at those cuts as soon as he has helped the more severely wounded. Sandor, let us see to your cut now."
  
  "Dragonrider!" Orell came running over. "There is a White Walker on one of the rafts. Some of the dead are using the five large rafts to try and reach the ships. Send the dragons over to them."
  
  "Rhaegal to me!" Jon yelled out loud but repeated the order in his head. He asked for Viserion too.
  
  "Stand back. Give me space. The green dragon will land here any moment. Stand back!" Jon yelled once more.
  
  Jaime shook his head when he saw Jon scramble awkwardly on top of his dragon. "Stubborn Targaryen," he mumbled and jumped on the first horse he could confiscate, racing in the direction of the coastline.
  
  Interlude 32: Brienne beyond the Wall
  
  She had been so glad when she received the summons from the Targaryen Prince. When she set out toward Eastwatch together with Lord Dayne and Lord Tyrell, twenty volunteers from Winterfell had accompanied them. More men had joined their small caravan when they passed through Wintertown and ever since small groups from other northern settlements had asked to travel alongside to the Wall. As ordered by the Prince, they had stopped at the Dreadfort and had picked up the men that had been incarcerated there. These men were eager to be provided a chance to prove themselves beyond the Wall. If they aided the Targaryen Prince in his fight against the enemy beyond the Wall they would regain their honour and be allowed to resume their previous position.
  
  By the time they all had reached Eastwatch, she rode at the head of a host of approximately two hundred men strong. A large contingent from the Last Hearth had been their last addition. Lord Osric Umber, the third son of the Greatjon Umber had assumed leadership but regarded her as his second in command. Although she presumed he had been given such instructions by the Targaryen Prince, she was flattered anyway by the number of responsibilities he entrusted her with. Even Tyrell and Dayne deferred to her when she decided when to stop or where to set up camp.
  
  Never before had she felt so well-respected when dealing with trained men, some of them seasoned veterans who had lived through more than one battle. At Winterfell she had already been pleased with the way she had been accepted despite several critical glances from visiting Lords and some of the houseguards. But travelling among these men had been a revelation.
  
  She wondered what her father would think if he could see her now. She had been vague in her descriptions of her stay at Winterfell. They all thought she was just visiting the North in the company of Lord Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell. They had even hinted that a possible betrothal between her and one of these young Lords would be most graciously welcomed. She had kept silent on purpose wanting them to hear of her new position as a Kingsguard either when she received her white cloak or when she could write them of the exact date she would be knighted.
  
  She had trusted the Targaryen Prince implicitly and was grateful for the honour he had bestowed on her by promising her this exclusive position. But as soon as she had entered the large gates of Eastwatch at the head of a host of two hundred and fifty men strong, she had been met by one disappointment after the other. Her proud smile had dimmed when she realised that the Prince was not there and the only ones from his entourage left at Eastwatch were Gendry, the skilled blacksmith and close friend of the Prince and the Prince's white direwolf. Prince Aegon had flown off again, this time to fight without them at Pyke and after a short but successful battle, rumours said he was now at Dragonstone for some supposedly urgent meetings.
  
  Next she had been introduced to two men of the Night's Watch who claimed they were personal guards of the Prince whenever he was present beyond the Wall. Lady Brienne had tried to reign in the acute feeling of jealousy. Not revealing her own ambitions she had subtly enquired after the extent of their relationship with the Prince and now she only felt pity for the two Targaryen loyalists who had been exiled to Wall for nothing more than being loyal to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
  
  Back then she had been able to comfort herself with the message that Sandor Clegane had sent that the Prince would return any day now and that they were bound for the place where the real fight would go down, a fight against a formidable enemy. They had left the next day and Lady Brienne had looked forward to her first real battle as Kingsguard to Aegon Targaryen.
  
  It had all come to naught. She had been severely let down. Here she stood at the railing of a ship anchored near the east coast of this frozen land of mountains and lakes. She pulled her furs tighter around her when the wind blew hard from the north. Despite the many layers of clothing that she wore, she was chilled to the bones. For the first time doubt entered her mind.
  
  She had plenty of time stuck on this accursed ship to ponder whether she had made the right choice, whether she had not made a mistake to trust the young Prince blindly. She had been so certain that Prince Aegon genuinely esteemed her and truly didn't mind the fact that she was a woman. She had believed him when he had promised her the certainty of a knighthood and a position in the renowned Kingsguard. She would be the first woman in Westeros ever to be granted such an honour and he would be the one to grant her this.
  
  That is the reason why it was such a shock when he ordered her to lead the evacuations at Hardhome. She had been slightly appeased when he had explained to her that she was given the responsibility of tens of thousands of souls. The forces he left behind, including Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell would be under her command. She would lead the defences here in the event that part of the enemy managed to escape the traps they had laid out and came for them.
  
  When she had protested that she had been present at the war council and that everyone considered them safe at sea, the Prince had walked her to a more private spot. Keeping his voice low he had explained to her that unlike the others he was sure that the enemy was not to be underestimated. He was of the opinion that they had the uncanny ability to find living souls and come for them no matter how many wights perished in the attempt. He advised her to remain alert at all times and make sure that everything was ready in case the dead found a way to reach them.
  
  He had pointed out that the enemy could command dead animals as well. Perhaps they would send her an enormous flock of dead eagles, ravens or any other kind of bird. They might even try to reach the ships on primitive rafts. Somehow he was convinced that the goal of the enemy was to recruit the Free Folk living at Hardhome. A scroll with recommendations from her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold had tipped the scale.
  
  She had let herself be persuaded and diligently led the evacuation. She had been mollified to notice that the Free Folk had no qualms with her being a woman. She had only needed to appease the ones that were disappointed that they had not been allowed to fight. She had understood all too well what they were feeling and had offered the most vocal ones a crucial task in the safeguarding of the ships. The evacuation had not gone flawlessly but after half a day of arguing and motivational speeches, the ships had all left the shore and had thrown anchor while still within viewing distance of the coast. At least they could spot the shoreline during daylight when the weather was clear enough.
  
  But now it was long after dark. Most of the night had come and gone and nothing had happened. She was still standing here at the railing of the ship with no more responsibility than to appoint lookouts and see to it that no fights broke out amongst the crew and Free Folk. Everyone was tired and uncomfortable. It had been a tight squeeze to accommodate so many of the Free Folk on just fifty ships. Most of the people on board scarcely had room to sit down.
  
  She shook her head trying to shake the doubts that kept creeping up on her. Would the Prince really see her as an equal to his other Kingsguards? She kept reminding herself that safeguarding fifty ships filled to the brim with passengers and their crew was a big responsibility. She would not let him down.
  
  She took the looking glass out of her belt and scanned the ships that were in her line of sight. As long as they all flew a white banner, everything was okay. The prearranged signal for danger was a red flag next to a lantern so they could spot it after dark. She tried not to bump into too many passengers when she wove her way through the small groups of people sitting on the moist wooden floor of the upper deck in order to check the visible banners in person. All white. She sighed not really knowing what she preferred. On the one hand, if the enemy showed itself that meant that the Targaryen Prince had not side-lined her but had given her a worthy task. On the other hand, if the enemy didn't show, more than fifteen thousand people would not be put in harm's way. Dawn would soon be upon them. The sky was no longer as dark as before. Soon it would be turning red and then the sun would be up not long after.
  
  Edric Dayne came running up to her jumping over legs and circumventing curled up bodies of sleeping Free Folk. "Lady Brienne! Lady Brienne, the ship to our right just raised the red banner!"
  
  Brienne cursed her moment of inattention. She didn't need her spyglass to see the red banner. The lantern and the red flag were clearly visible with the naked eye.
  
  "There!" Edric Dayne pointed at the shoreline. "Rafts are coming our way."
  
  Brienne used her spy glass now to study the indicated spot. She counted five large rafts, each carrying uh something. She had to look again to believe what she saw. There were approximately twenty moving corpses sitting on each of these rafts holding on for dear life or perhaps life was not the correct term. The Prince had not exaggerated. They were at least half-decayed but still moving and carrying weapons. And their eyes! She held her breath for a moment but then regrouped and studied the other rafts.
  
  There it was. Just as it had been described during the war council. Wights were almost always in the company of an ice creature. It stood upright on the raft that still was the farthest distance from her ship. She released the breath she had been holding and studied the White Walker thoroughly, making a mental list of all the weapons it carried.
  
  She handed her spyglass to Edric Dayne. "Here have a look. I will raise the alarm so the archers know to take their positions. The Targaryen Prince had told her that every member of the Free Folk could shoot a mean arrow. According to him, children were taught this skill as soon as they could walk on their own. He had provided each ship with enough bows and arrows with special magic glass arrowheads. Her task had been to select the best archers available on each boat and give each of them a fixed position. If ever the enemy showed itself, they would all know where to stand and every corner of each of the ship would have its defenses ready in no time. She had done all he had ordered. She knew the scroll carrying the instructions of her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold by hard.
  
  She had not wasted the afternoon on the ship. The crew and the more capable members of the Free Folk on the ships had been armed with dragonglass axes, daggers and longspears. Everyone had been given instructions and knew their positions. The only thing that had kept Lady Brienne from being bored were the short training sessions for small groups she led until everyone selected had shown her what he or she was capable of. She had been frustrated that she had not had the time to visit the other ships to check whether her orders had been carried out with the same vigil and to witness the skills of the defenders that had been picked out there.
  
  She heard the scraping of iron chains that told her the anchor was being lifted. Hopefully the other ships were following the instructions to the letter and were doing the same thing. She checked her belt one more time counting the weapons she was carrying. Brienne, Edric and Loras had been allowed to take their pick from the crates Gendry had shown them at Eastwatch.
  
  She hurried along the length of the ship and spotted Loras easily. He had been keeping the children company earlier and was still in their vicinity. She ordered him to help mobilise their defenses and soon enough the entire ship stood at the ready and was waiting for her orders.
  
  "The rafts are looking precarious and the enemy does not seem comfortable upon them." Loras remarked. "Perhaps we should just ram them."
  
  "It is a pathetic looking attempt of an attack," Edric concurred, "barely one hundred wights and only one White Walker."
  
  "Remember what the Prince told us." Brienne cautioned him. "Don't underestimate them. They may look frail but they show no mercy. They have no sense of self-preservation. They are mindless puppets of the White Walker and most probably don't realise they have been sent on a suicide mission. Aim for the White Walker. Use only dragonglass or fire and aim for his chest. Chances are that if a clean shot can take out the White Walker the fight is over. I have been told that without the White Walker, these so-called wights become powerless."
  
  "The ice creature has two ice spears, a long sword and a few daggers on him." Edric had studied the enemy thoroughly using Brienne's spyglass.
  
  "As soon as the White Walker is within range, give the archers leave to shoot. Let them all fire simultaneously and aim for the White Walker." Edric and Loras nodded and each of them walked to a different part of the ship.
  
  "Dragons!" Someone shouted and several others repeated the word.
  
  Brienne looked up and saw the dragons approaching. Even if they were still far away, she understood they were flying at an enormous speed. She turned her head again to check the position of the enemy. The rafts were still approaching at a slow pace but the enemy had moved. The White Walker and all the wights had turned and were staring at the incoming dragons. The White Walker spread his legs to improve his balance and lifted an ice spear, ready to throw it at the first dragon to come into range.
  
  Brienne held her breath. They needed to distract the White Walker or a spear might hurt one of the Prince's dragons. The silverwhite dragon had no rider and was on course to reach the rafts first. The green dragon appeared to have trouble keeping up.
  
  "Nock!" Brienne shouted on the top of her voice.
  
  She heard her shout being repeated by Loras and Edric respectively at the bow and stern. She witnessed the white dragon dive down towards the rafts.
  
  "Loose!" she yelled and watched with satisfaction as several arrows hit the White Walker's throwing arm. They couldn't aim for his chest since he was standing sideways to have a better view of the incoming dragon. Her action had some result though. The White Walker lost his balance slightly and the ice spear that he had been throwing changed direction and missed its target by a wide margin. The weapon fell into the water and drifted harmlessly upon the waves. Viserion swept over the rafts and lit three of them on fire.
  
  "Nock", she yelled again seeing that the White Walker had picked up a second ice spear.
  
  In the meantime Jon was rather helpless on Rhaegal. The dragon had trouble flying stable enough for his human to stay steady on his back.
  
  'Fly over the ships, Viserion. Make the White Walker turn around and face the archers on the ship.' He sent the thought to Rhaegal hoping his brother would pick it up. He needed all his concentrations not to fall off and couldn't merge his mind with the dragons as he usually did when flying in the air. Viserion either came up with the idea himself or had heard them and instantly complied.
  
  Lady Brienne admired the way the white dragon flew low over the fleet followed by the green dragon. Both dragons circled around but only the white dragon advanced towards the enemy. Brienne immediately grasped the opportunity when as expected the White Walker turned and faced them now, his torso a clear target for the first time.
  
  "Loose!" She shouted. And lo and behold, the White Walker eerie eyes no longer looked up at the dragons but instead stared at the ships and the incoming arrows. Lady Brienne shivered but her eyes grew wide when she saw the ice creature lift his arms sideways and let the arrows impact without making any attempt to save himself. Her mouth fell open when he exploded in thousands of tiny ice crystals. The cheers of the men on board made her lift her gaze from the strange heap. Widening her sight she noticed that the wights on the two remaining rafts had all dropped down and lay lifeless on the wooden beams.
  
  The white dragon made one more dive and soon only a few black pieces of burnt wood were drifting towards their position. She found it all rather anticlimactic. Now that they were no longer in any danger she relaxed and looked for the Prince on the back of the green dragon. She bit her lip when she saw the green dragon having trouble to hover over her ship. From this close by she could see it had a small hole in one of his wings.
  
  "Without counter order, you can bring everyone back ashore soon. But wait till after noon." The Targaryen Prince yelled at her.
  
  She nodded and shouted her response. "Noon, Hardhome."
  
  She waved after him and her eyes kept following the two dragons that flew very slowly back towards the shore.
  
  Before he left Hardhome, Jon gave Lady Brienne detailed instructions for their travels south. Edric and Loras would accompany her. Gendry planned to travel to Winterfell in the company of the small group from Winterfell and Wintertown. He would visit there for some time and then continue south to Dragonstone or King's Landing if all went according to plan.
  
  At first Jon had wanted to send Ghost with Lady Brienne who was set to sail from Eastwatch to Dragonstone. But after communicating with his direwolf, it became clear that Ghost would rather travel overland, not even accompanying Gendry for the first part of the journey. Ghost preferred to travel at his own speed. Jon was worried for his direwolf's safety but had relented acknowledging the fact that the direwolf had a right to make his own decisions. He was not a pet but a companion and friend. He just hoped that Ghost would not get lost on his way south.
  
  Notes:
  
  Next chapter, we pick up from where the main chapter left off and witness the aftermath of the battle near the lake. In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Robb and Benjen at Winterfell.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  When the smoke clears
  Chapter 33: When the smoke clears
  
  Summary:
  
  The aftermath of the battle.
  
  Notes:
  
  Warning: war, violence, character deaths .
  
  Ravenousreadr once more did her best to clean up my errors and I am very grateful to her.
  
  Thanks to the guest(s) that have been leaving all these reviews. I'll go back and make the necessary corrections. Thanks again.
  
  I am using my creative license (it being an alternative universe) once more to explain that Willas Tyrell is younger in my universe than in canon and if necessary, Myrcella is a tiny bit older and in these medieval times girls marry young. That way my story can go ahead as planned
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon stumbled off his dragon when he returned to the encampment. By all appearances he had not been gone that long. From high up he had spotted small groups of men still checking the lake and surrounding areas. They all had torches in hand and were setting fire to every single carcass they could find. He petted Rhaegal and felt the dragon's exhaustion flow through him. The dragon was lying with his head down in the exact same spot where he had touched down. Never before had Jon seen his dragons settle down in a pool of mud. They always looked for a dry spot preferably one that provided some shelter from the weather, especially so when they were this far north. Jon had never experienced Rhaegal to be this lethargic.
  
  Viserion had landed a bit further away and was nuzzling a dead horse, probably making sure it was a fresh kill. Jon presumed the dragon was satisfied with his findings since he roasted it and started to feast on the flesh before the flames had completely died down. Rhaegal didn't even lift his head to check out where the enticing smell came from. Growing even more worried, Jon limped toward the spot where the charred meat was lying and tried to drag a half devoured part of the horse's hindquarters closer to Rhaegal. Viserion sensing Jon's worry for his sibling nudged the dragonrider aside and shoved the roasted horse in its entirety in the direction of his brother's head. Then he sauntered off and soon found another casualty of war in the form of a beautiful black stallion.
  
  Satisfied that Rhaegal had been taken care of and Viserion had found another prey, Jon limped in the direction of the tents. Ghost came running up, his white fur covered in mud and filth. No red blood though. The enemy had none. Jon's mind was too tired to dwell much on what exactly was the stinking substance that had gotten stuck in his wolf's pelt. He fell to his knees and scratched Ghost behind his ears happy to see him unharmed.
  
  Sandor was the first to reach Jon and helped him get to his feet again. "Your leg is bleeding like warm piss. That stupid bandage is soaked through. Let's get you to a fucking healer, boy."
  
  Jon was grateful to accept the bigger man's help. Now that Sandor had brought it to his attention, the wound had started to bother him for real. He shivered when he remembered the exact moment the White Walker's ice sword had cut his thigh and how he had been expecting to die when the next blow from that weapon had been about to pierce his heart.
  
  Grateful for Sandor's silent nature he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked in the direction of the provisional shelter where they were treating the more severely wounded. He kept most of his weight of his right leg while he hobbled. Nevertheless, the red stain on his breeches and makeshift bandage was growing larger. He reckoned the wound had started to bleed more profusely when he jumped off Rhaegal's back. His dragon hadn't lowered his wing to assist Jon, so he had just slid down the dragon's flank and had touched the ground rather forcibly. It certainly would do no harm to have a healer look at his thigh.
  
  "Is Ygritte all right?" Jon asked Sandor when he had gathered his wits again.
  
  "She is. She boasts she killed more wights than I did. My woman might have the right of it. She always shot two arrows simultaneously. You should have seen the speed with which she had a new set of arrows nocked each time." Sandor beamed proudly.
  
  "I'm glad she is all right, Sandor. How come you are here with me instead of, you know?" Jon did his best to focus on the conversation and not on the pain in his leg.
  
  "She volunteered to burn carcasses and ordered me to hurry to your side when she saw the dragons come back. A real mind reader, my red minx. She gathered I would not be at ease until I knew you were okay."
  
  "Thanks, Sandor. It is nice to know I can count on you." Jon increased the pressure on Sandor's arm slightly to lend extra weight to his words.
  
  "Not only on me. Every Free Folk I encountered wanted to be reassured that you were okay. You should hear the tales they are telling. They grow bigger all the time. According to the last one I overheard, the Dragonrider practically slayed half the enemy's army on his own with his magical sword while on the ground even though he had to climb mountains of dead carcasses to do it. The other half was set afire by your dragons for which they also give you credit. Don't know what the fuck we were all doing on the battle field by that account." Sandor chuckled.
  
  "Like you said, it is only a tale that grows wilder with the retelling. Just wait until they see me limp. They'll understand that I bleed the same as them all and am just a frail human of flesh and blood."
  
  Sandor grunted to convey his disbelief. Stepping aside to avoid a small pool of mud, he stumbled into Ghost and almost lost his balance.
  
  "Your wolf stinks like shit, boy." Sandor covered his misstep with this rude declaration. "I wouldn't be surprised if they could fucking smell him as far as Winterfell. Isn't it enough that the entire environment smells of stinking rotting carcasses and charred meat? Better order him away soon. Your wolf sure as hell won't be welcome in the healer's quarters. Free Folk healers are fucking keen on keeping their work area clean."
  
  Jon stopped and studied Ghost. The white direwolf whined quietly. He came closer and rubbed his head against Jon's unharmed leg.
  
  "Ghost, go bathe please. I'm safe and you can come back as soon as we are both cleaned up somewhat." Jon looked at Ghost's sad red eyes and petted the top of his head not minding the dirt. "Sandor's right. You smell something awful. You know I normally like your scent but surely your own nose must be telling you that you reek?"
  
  Ghost nuzzled Jon's hand and moaned quietly once more.
  
  "Sandor will keep me safe. Besides, the sooner you bathe, the sooner I can give you a big hug." Jon encouraged his direwolf.
  
  Ghost took one last look at Jon being supported by Clegane's strong shoulder and ran off in the direction of the beach. He ignored the melted parts of the lake where the smell of battle and smoke was still rather strong opting to rinse himself in salty sea water.
  
  Sandor released Jon the moment they were safely inside the tent.
  
  "I'll wait for you outside," he grumbled.
  
  Jon just nodded and lowered the flap to keep the cold from entering the tent where several cots were filled with wounded men. The first one he saw moving about when he searched the large space for a sign of the healer was the familiar broad silhouette of Gendry. His friend had his back to him. Jon spotted the bandage on Gendry's left arm when his friend bent over to help one of the wounded sit upright and drink some water.
  
  "Here you are." Gendry exclaimed visibly relieved when he spotted Jon. He immediately interrupted what he was doing and approached. "We match." He touched the bandage on Jon's left arm."
  
  "Only if you have a cut on your thigh too." Jon embraced Gendry by hugging his right side. "I am glad you are okay."
  
  "I had Ghost by my side. Besides, the fuckers didn't really mean to fight us. That much became clear. They had a strategy of their own. We only had a real fight on our hands when we attempted to reach you. And we did try, even though we did not succeed. You must believe me. As soon as word reached us that you were trapped, the entire front line moved forward and engaged the enemy on the lake."
  
  He looked over Jon's shoulder toward the entrance and frowned. "Where is Ghost? The way he dashed off, I was sure he had picked up your scent."
  
  "I ordered him to clean himself up some." Jon released Gendry.
  
  "One day you must teach me the right way to convince him to do that. I did try that myself several times." Gendry's eyes twinkled.
  
  "He did stink." Jon stated the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards as he looked around for a sign of a healer.
  
  "He did at that." Gendry grinned but moved aside when the healer of the Free Folk approached them.
  
  "Can I help you, Dragonrider?" He gave Jon a once over. "I will need to clean those wounds. You should have come earlier." He admonished the young man.
  
  The healer made quick work of washing out the wound on his arm and dressed it again with clean bandages. He shook his head when he tried to remove the bloody piece of cloth that had gotten stuck in the crusted over part of the large wound on Jon's right thigh. He used a moist cloth to try to separate the bandage from the cut without causing more damage.
  
  "This wound will need stitches." He informed Jon when he had a clear view of the rather long cut. "Not the entire length, just the upper part where the wound is deepest. We do not have milk of the poppy. Better bite on something." He warned Jon.
  
  Gendry offered him his belt with an apologetic smile. Jon took it stoically.
  
  "It could have been worse." Was all the comment he offered before he bit down on the piece of leather."
  
  Ten stitches later and a large bandage adorning his thigh, Jon was ready to leave.
  
  "Don't walk too far. I recommend you use a stick and lessen the weight you put on that leg. As long as you don't tear the stitches in the first few days, you should be okay." The healer's eyes were still adjusting the bandage on Jon's thigh making sure it would keep in place.
  
  "Thanks. Zalter is it?" Jon asked after the man's name, vaguely remembering seeing him at the Fist of the First Men.
  
  "Zalter is my brother. My name is Zetus." The healer looked up at Jon surprised at hearing his brother's name being mentioned by the Dragonrider.
  
  "Thank you, Zetus. We are grateful that you look after our wounded."
  
  "The Free Folk are indebted to all those that fought to save our lives today. But we all know to whom we owe our biggest debt. You provided us with ships, magic glass and brought strong warriors not to mention dragons real here. If ever the Dragonrider needs help from the Free Folk, we will all come running." The man nodded convincingly.
  
  Jon put his hand on the man's shoulder. "That goes both ways, Zetus. We are allies from now on. I hope you will not forget that the Night's Watch also helped the Free Folk today. The days of fighting each other are at an end. We all know who the true enemy is now. Tell all who seek to harass the Crows that the Dragonrider told them not to. This is the beginning of a new era. The living must band together."
  
  "Only if you tell the Crows the same." Zetus countered.
  
  "I already have, but I will make sure to repeat it to them constantly. I trust the Free Folk more than them. But don't tell them I said that." Jon winked and turned his head in Gendry's direction.
  
  "Since I don't have a stick, perhaps I can lean on you for my walk to the war tent?"
  
  Gendry exchanged a glance with Zetus. "I'll send a few others to help out here," he promised the healer and took Jon's right arm to drape it over his shoulder.
  
  "Let us get going, Dragonrider." He smiled when Jon made a face at being addressed in this way by his friend.
  
  Sandor immediately sprang to attention when Jon and Gendry exited the tent. Jon felt like a sissy with both his arms on the shoulders of bigger men. He was half dragged to the war tent. Ghost met up with them just as they were about to enter the tent. He looked mostly clean and wormed himself inside. Jon let him for now. He did still smell but it was the normal smell of a wet animal. As long as the men offered no objections, Jon would enjoy the soothing company of his direwolf.
  
  He lowered himself on some furs and made an inventory of all the men present. Lord Umber was slumbering in a corner as was one leader of the Free Folk. There was no sign of Edd Tollet nor of Stane. Tormund's large frame was also missing. Jon remembered the men still out on the lake burning corpses. They probably were among them. Then his eyes fell on Jaime Lannister. He looked rather tired but alert, his stare firmly fixed on Jon.
  
  "Have you learned the number of casualties on our side?" Jon asked Lannister hoping he would have some information. He had not been able to see the fighting on the south end of the lake but he guessed it must have gotten rather violent once the gap had frozen over and the forces were able to meet in close combat over a wide front.
  
  "Not yet but I can assure you it will be low. It quickly became clear that they were only trying to keep our forces from helping you. When I interrogated some of the commanders, I learned that the dead didn't really engage anyone south of the lake with the tenacity they showed whilst targeting you. They just blocked anyone that was trying to reach you and only countered when provoked. I asked the leaders to gather the men they had been responsible for so they could make a list of who was killed and who got hurt. First estimate is that approximately fifty were killed." He cleared his throat and picked up a cup to drink a few sips. "More than two hundred are wounded though. Thirty are hurt rather severely. The healers estimate all but one have a real chance to pull through. I told them you would like a list with the names of the dead."
  
  He made a face and added. "After Clegane seconded my claim, they are all agreed and are busy with that right now. That is why you find me in here all alone. I asked Edd Tollet to put together the list of casualties amongst the men from Castle Black."
  
  "Fifty were killed." Jon shook his head. "Before the battle started I had hoped for less. After the resurrection and the prolonged fighting, I didn't dare to make a new estimation."
  
  "Only fifty casualties against an enemy force of fifty thousand strong, every general would call that an extraordinary, even a miraculous victory, my Prince." Jaime Lannister tried to get Jon to see the bigger picture.
  
  "He's right, you know." Jon was surprised to hear Gendry agree with something Jaime Lannister said.
  
  "Perhaps," Jon relented. "But for the friends and loved ones of each of those fifty brave men and women who lost their lives, it will be a hard blow."
  
  "That is another discussion entirely, my Prince. A battle commander must not let such thoughts influence him. His focus must be on winning the fight with the best strategy intent on losing as little men as possible. He must see these men as assets and assess their strengths and weaknesses when he decides who gets the more dangerous tasks. To protect his own sanity, he cannot think of these men as husbands, fathers or only sons."
  
  "But we can honour them now." Jon's tone allowed no opposition. "I want them all to have a decent burial ceremony. We will make time for that as soon as we have taken care of the ones that are fleeing."
  
  "What are you talking about, Jon?" Gendry asked.
  
  "I do not want them to be able to inform the Night King of what exactly we did to defeat them. I want to destroy every last one of those wights. My guess is that one or at the most two White Walkers are amongst the fleeing party. As soon as my dragons have rested, I will go after them."
  
  Jon tried to get up but Jaime put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising.
  
  "As far as I have been told, they hardly move during daylight and travel at night. And when they do, they travel rather slowly. I propose we rest up and then go after them once we have formulated a solid plan. They needed more than a moon to reach us, isn't that correct? Then we have a moon to catch them before they are reunited with their leader."
  
  "I don't have a moon." Jon groaned. "I need to head back south. The news of who I really am and the imminent threat I pose to his reign will reach King Robert any day now and he might decide to kill my uncle or launch an attack on Dragonstone."
  
  "Your dragons are in no condition to fly off straight away, my Prince. We need to come up with a plan to hunt down those wights first anyway. You look exhausted and weak, if you do not mind my frankness. I propose you rest up a bit as well." Jaime looked at Sandor for support.
  
  "You had the tougher part as always, Jon." Again it was Gendry who stood by Jaime Lannister. "You need to rest. It won't do to have Rhaegal recuperated and you not being able to keep your balance on his back or falling asleep high up in the air."
  
  "Fucking listen to them, boy." Sandor broke his silence for the first time since entering the tent. "I'll find Orell and let him search for the fucking enemy. We will have a damned fine plan in place to catch every last of those dead cunts after your beauty sleep."
  
  "I guess it wouldn't hurt to close my eyes for a little bit." Jon relented. "But first, can anyone send a raven or a messenger to Eastwatch? I want them to send word to Dragonstone that we survived the main battle and are just tying up loose ends. Perhaps forward a message to Winterfell as well?"
  
  "I'll see to it if you promise to rest." Sandor was already on his feet. "Ghost, look after him until I find Rykker or Stokeworth to take over guard duty." Clegane clearly dismissed Jaime as someone he trusted to keep Jon safe.
  
  Jon stretched himself out on the furs and carefully arranged his right thigh in a comfortable position. He tucked his coat under his chin and was asleep in no time.
  
  A while later Jon awoke to hushed voices and the smell of warm food. His stomach grumbled. Assessing his environment he noticed that most of the leaders were assembled in the tent but were installed on the other side a safe distance from where Jon and his direwolf were resting.
  
  Sandor and Tormund immediately switched to his part of the tent bringing food and ale. They witnessed how a silent dialogue between Jon and his white wolf resulted in Ghost bowing his head and reluctantly leaving the tent.
  
  "I told him to go hunting." Jon explained when he noticed the question written on Sandor's face.
  
  "Makes sense," Sandor grumbled. "Better eat this quickly. We want to exchange our experiences from last night and then we will finalise our plan to hunt down the last of the dead motherfuckers."
  
  Jon greedily drank from the offered cup and attacked his bowl of lukewarm porridge.
  
  "Seems royals get as hungry as the common man." Sandor teased him.
  
  "Dragonrider or King, they all eat, drink, bleed and shit the same as the Free Folk." Tormund grinned slapping Sandor's shoulder.
  
  Jon studied Sandor's reaction. The man didn't look bothered one bit by Tormund's tactile gesture. If anything the two men had become even closer friends. He quickly emptied his bowl and gratefully accepted a refill of his cup when Tormund offered.
  
  "How long did I sleep?" Jon asked both men.
  
  "Noon was a while ago." Tormund answered.
  
  Jon just nodded and wasted no more time. Soon after, all the leaders were gathered and formed a large circle. Tormund Giantsbane coughed loudly and the debriefing started.
  
  "What went wrong exactly? How did you get isolated and overrun by the enemy?" Jaime Lannister asked Jon a bit later after they had all been briefed on the outcome of the weak attempt of an attack on the fleet with the refugees from Hardhome.
  
  "It all began with the ice that wasn't as easy to melt. Nor did the layer of ice give in under the weight of their numbers." Jon started his explanation, eying his empty cup.
  
  "Didn't you weaken the borders before the battle started?" Apparently Jaime had already gotten some details out of the others commanders about the initial plan.
  
  "I did on several occasions before the battle. The ice still was markedly thinner at the edges before they arrived. Somehow the dead bring the cold with them. You can feel them approaching even if you don't see them. The temperature drops significantly. Even after dragonfire broke the ice and we had a safe margin of melted water to separate the two armies, those White Walkers only needed to approach and the gaps slowly but surely froze over once more."
  
  "That still doesn't explain how you got isolated on the ground so far from our main host. How did that come about?" Jaime's tone was accusing.
  
  "We were winning. The dead were trapped. I managed to capsize large chunks of ice on several occasions. Thousands drowned, more were burned by the dragons or killed by dragonglass arrows. We managed to destroy several White Walkers which resulted in incapacitating a rather large number of wights. After that the enemy stopped attacking and seemed to accept their defeat as they were slowly retreating. This recounting might seem short and simple but all of that took a lot of time and a great deal of effort. I do not know how long we had been at by the time the enemy appeared defeated.
  
  The dragons had been spewing fire almost incessantly for a very long time and were drained of most of their energy. I lost count of the number of times we needed to stop burning wights and fly alongside the borders of the lake to melt the ice that threatened to freeze over again and again. All the while the dragons needed to be alert and often had to make evasive manoeuvres to duck ice spears. Rhaegal also had to focus on keeping me on his back. It was no wonder he was the first one to tire. He began to have trouble maintaining his balance. No longer sure I was safe on his back high up in the air I decided to land as soon as the fighting had stopped. The enemy was at a safe distance and retreating." Jon defended his decision.
  
  "You could have chosen a better spot." Jaime remarked drily.
  
  "I know but our army was spread out over a large area and I didn't see a clear landing spot close enough to be absolutely sure that Rhaegal would make it. We would have needed to fly a long way to land behind our own lines. I made a judgement call."
  
  Jaime Lannister gave him the exact same look Ser Gerold would have given him, or Ser Oswell, or Ser Arthur for that matter. That thought made Jon lower his head. For a moment he felt like a kid again that had made a stupid mistake during a training session. "I know," he acceded. "I won't make that mistake a second time."
  
  "That fucking green dragon was no longer flying steadily." Tormund defended his friend. "We all prayed that the Dragonrider would get off that fire beast before he fell to his death. Nobody could have foreseen the hell that broke lose next."
  
  "I reckon they were not defeated." Jaime stated the obvious. "Did they have reinforcements tucked away somewhere?"
  
  "They were fucking resurrected." Jon vented his frustration by raising his voice and swearing.
  
  Jaime Lannister as much as the others present startled at his unusual outburst.
  
  "It was indeed a horrifying sight. Nobody expected such a thing to be fucking possible." Sandor defended his former charge.
  
  Jon sighed and his voice sounded subdued when he explained. "The White Walker standing in the middle of the lake looked straight at me. Every single wight still undefeated stopped walking and turned its head and its icy blue eyes toward me. Can you imagine hundreds of them, every cursed single pair of these otherworldly eyes looked straight at you?" Jon shivered and swallowed thickly.
  
  "But that was not the creepiest thing," he continued when everyone kept silent, mesmerized by his ominous tone. "The White Walker stood still for a while and then he started smirking. He simply raised his arms and all the wights that had dropped down when we destroyed some of the White Walkers earlier, just stood up and also turned their heads towards me. And then the ice cracked and countless wights started to crawl out of the water. Those were in large part the ones that I had drowned earlier."
  
  Jon shook his head, a frustrated, dejected look on his face. "One small gesture of a fucking ice creature and the enemy's forces were replenished with at least ten thousand wights that we already took down once."
  
  "All coming for you," Jaime stated, better understanding the predicament Jon had been in.
  
  "Yes." Jon took a deep breath to calm down. The retelling had summoned vivid pictures of this traumatic experience to the front of his mind. He was sure he would have nightmares of gruesome blue eyes for years to come. He took another deep breath and forced the vision from his mind. One more deep breath and he felt calm enough to continue.
  
  "Fortunately Viserion had stayed up in the air and did his best to deter most of them. Rhaegal was swamped in a matter of moments and wasn't as lucky. They only annoyed him. Their swords did nothing more than give him annoying little pricks but they were keeping him busy and more importantly also grounded. Later I noticed that his wing got a small tear."
  
  When the others looked shocked to hear that, Jon quickly put them at ease. "Don't worry. My dragon reassured me already that this won't hinder him one bit during flight and that it will heal soon enough. He just needs rest. Anyway, being distracted by those wights, Rhaegal could only help me with an occasional small burst of fire." Jon paused. He vividly remembered feeling his dragon's initial panic and subsequent frustration.
  
  "Mag the Mighty saved me when my foot got stuck between the bones of corpses at my feet. Ser Arthur would not have been proud."
  
  Jon looked straight into Jaime Lannister's eyes when he pronounced his next sentence. "Mind where you step. Be aware of your environment and use it to your advantage."
  
  "I remember." Jamie answered hardly making a sound but Jon read the words from his lips easily.
  
  "I wonder if he would have been able to find a safe spot to place his foot amidst all that chaos." Jon muttered to himself. Then he looked straight at Jaime Lannister and spoke up again. "I kept fighting wights off for what felt like ages. That was about the time you came onto the scene. You know what happened next. I am fairly sure I owe you my life. You have my heartfelt thanks. I gather it must not have been easy getting to me, bypassing all those wights."
  
  Jaime acknowledged Jon's words with a modest nod. "And circumventing all the corpses of the ones you had already slayed. I took a shortcut through the woods and was determined to stop for nothing until I reached you. Any idea why they were all focussed on you?"
  
  "Because he is the fucking Dragonrider, you dumb cunt." Tormund exclaimed. Sandor nodded his assent.
  
  Jon sighed. Sandor Clegane had been very vocal when he had learned Jaime Lannister was travelling with the party from Castle Black to join the fight. "I don't trust the sisterfucker." He had protested loudly. "Besides he is a Lannister cunt. They eat Targaryens for breakfast."
  
  Jon had needed to tell Sandor fragments of his conversation with Jaime Lannister at Castle Black to appease Clegane but there still seemed to be a residual of bad blood between the two of them.
  
  "Not just because of that." Jon admitted and addressed Jaime. "Prince Rhaegar found this prophecy. Apparently I am at the center of it. Everything points to me being the one foretold to kill their Night King."
  
  "Night King?"
  
  "Their supreme commander who only sent us half of his forces tonight." Jon straightened his posture. "We need to prevent the remnants of their army from reaching him. We need to go after them and destroy every last one of them." He said his tone urgent now.
  
  "And we will. How are your dragons doing?" Jaime asked him.
  
  Jon closed his eyes for a moment. "They have found a dry spot and are resting. They have eaten their fill. They will both be ready when we are."
  
  "That's good to hear." Tormund slapped Jon's shoulder. "Wouldn't like to take on those dead fucks without your fire beasts, Dragonrider."
  
  "Before we continue, has the list been completed yet? How many fatalities?" Jon tone indicated he really wanted to know.
  
  "Fifty three on our last count," Edd Tollet spoke up. "Many of the Free Folk. The Night's Watch lost seven men, the Lords of the North," he looked at Lord Umber.
  
  "Five from the Dreadfort, only one from the rest of my group."
  
  "I am sorry to hear so many Free Folk lost their lives." Jon looked at their leaders.
  
  "It was to be expected." Tormund spoke up. "If you look at it, we lost less than your southerners. I don't know the fancy term for such calculations but if you consider the damned size of our host, we fucking hardly lost anybody. They will be remembered as heroes and their families will be taken care of. Don't fret, Dragonrider. I have never witnessed a battle of such a scale with so few casualties on our side. We killed almost fifty thousand dead cunts. Mance Rayder will declare you a fucking God when he hears we only lost forty of the Free Folk while defeating the scariest enemy ever."
  
  Jon nodded in acknowledgement and then moved on with the meeting. "Sandor, can you coordinate funeral arrangements? If everyone agrees we will build several pyres, one for each division of our army."
  
  "I fucking want to join you on your mission." Clegane protested.
  
  "I'd be willing to arrange it." Edd Tollet offered. The man had a bandage around his head and his swordhand was covered in bandages.
  
  "Thanks, Edd. Get Rykker and Stokeworth to assist you." Jon responded.
  
  Edd Tollet's face fell. "My Prince, I was going to tell you later since we agreed not to mention names during this meeting, but...."
  
  Jon paled. "But?"
  
  "Rykker is on the list. He died trying to reach you. Here." Edd handed him the scroll with names.
  
  Jon swallowed as his hand automatically reached for the list. Pictures of the first time he had seen Rykker at Castle Black popped up in his mind. He struggled to find the right approach. It wouldn't do to read the list of names with everyone scrutinising his tiniest reaction. He would save that for after the meeting. Jaime's words of a battle commander's way of thinking still rang fresh in his mind.
  
  "I'm sorry to hear that. I am sure your fellow brothers will help make the arrangements. Thanks for letting me know, Edd." Jon nodded at the ranger and tried to keep his composure.
  
  Gendry entered the tent his face red and sweat dripping from his temple. "Someone accidentally set fire to the tent with the wounded."
  
  "Please don't stay here on my account. We'll reconvene when the crisis has passed." Jon gave everyone permission to leave.
  
  He used the unexpected moment of respite to shift his wounded leg in a more comfortable position. When almost everybody had left, he opened the scroll. He read through the list of names with mixed feelings. He was relieved not to recognise any of the other names but felt guilty at the same time. Just because he didn't know these men, their loved ones would miss them all the same. He put his head down and closed his eyes for a short time.
  
  He opened his eyes again when a strange scratching noise reached his ears. Apparently he was no longer alone in the tent.
  
  Jaime Lannister sat a few feet from him, scribbling some things on a scroll. A cool breeze entered the tent and Jon's eyes drifted to the entrance in time to see Ghost's muzzle appear. His loyal direwolf had probably sensed his distress when he learned of Rykker's demise and had come to keep him company. Jon tapped his left thigh and Ghost sprinted inside, quickly positioning himself cosily next to Jon resting his head endearingly on his human's thigh.
  
  Jaime Lannister's raised his eyebrow at the blatant display of camaraderie between human and beast but Jon merely shrugged. He had already reigned in his behaviour and postponed Ghost's promised hug because of the man's presence. He exploited the fact that Lannister's gaze was focussed on him to motion the man to approach.
  
  After Lannister had eagerly complied Jon opened the conversation."I want to thank you properly for saving my life out there. Somehow you were able to reach me when all others failed."
  
  "You looked in a spot of bother and I promised your father." Lannister answered humbly.
  
  When Jon just kept staring at him, Jaime Lannister added. "You're welcome, my Prince. After I reached you, it was a joint effort. You handled yourself well."
  
  Jon raised his eyebrow expressing his doubt. He remembered each word of Lannister's rather judging interrogation earlier.
  
  Jaime Lannister gave him a wan smile and explained his change of opinion. "Before I came back in here, the leader of the Free Folk, the big red uh"
  
  "Tormund Giantsbane." Jon helped him out.
  
  "Giantsbane told me how long you were being besieged before I showed up. Sandor Clegane might have helped him with a few chosen words. Besides, I would have come too late if not for the giant. It seems Mag the Mighty earned your thanks as well. I heard they are still plucking arrows out of him. I am glad he is on our side. How will anybody in King's Landing ever believe giants fought dead people?" He shook his head.
  
  "Imagine if Mag the Mighty or Wun Wun had gotten killed and had been resurrected. We could easily have faced undead giants on the battlefield. It is really imperative to burn anyone that dies, be it ally or enemy."
  
  Jaime nodded and looked Jon over. "You sure do look better." He remarked.
  
  "Well, I refreshed myself a bit, had some rest and got my wounds taken care of. Ghost looks cleaner too. You should have encountered him earlier." Jon's lips curled slightly. "I do not think you are used to such a smell."
  
  "I wouldn't know. But don't bother trying to prove your point." His face grew more serious. "We need to talk."
  
  Jon noticed him fiddling with a scroll and studied the item more carefully. It looked more like a rough drawing than a letter. "You are devising a plan?" He asked.
  
  This time it was Jaime's turn to raise his eyebrow.
  
  "The prophecy?"Jon guessed. "You want to talk about the prophecy?"
  
  "Amongst other things."
  
  "You sound like Ser Gerold." Jon tried to mimic his Lord Commander's voice and manner of speaking. "My Prince, we need to go over it again. I need a step by step account of the fight. I am sure you have not told me all the details."
  
  Jaime chuckled but sobered when he saw that the Prince kept his face blank. It was clear that despite his successful rescue effort he had not entirely redeemed himself. He swallowed cursing for the umpteenth time his impulsive act of pushing that Stark boy out of the window.
  
  "That is exactly how I remember Ser Gerold. I don't need anything that thorough. I just want to walk you through all that I have learned from what you said and from interrogating the others." Jaime Lannister explained.
  
  "Have you come up with a plan to eradicate the ones who fled?" Jon opted to change the subject knowing he would be considered a weak commander if they dwelled too long on the tactical mistake he had made and the 'small' losses they suffered.
  
  "Yes. We all agreed on it. Knowing our diverse group, that says a lot about the quality of the plan."
  
  "Tell me." Careful not to hurt his thigh, Jon pulled his knees up so he could rest his chin on them, his eyes fixed on Lannister.
  
  "Well, first of all we use all we have learned. Rule one: no more disabling wights in a way we cannot burn them immediately."
  
  Jon was glad Lannister spoke matter of fact without a hint of accusation in his voice and nodded. "No more drowning. I had come to the same conclusion. I can't fault myself not to know that in advance though. I had never seen anything like that."
  
  "Nobody is accusing you of incompetence, my Prince, far from it." Jaime Lannister's tone was sincere.
  
  "I burned every last wight on those rafts. Perhaps one or two fell in the water but that couldn't be helped." Jon underlined the fact that he had already learned from the events of the battle on the lake before having it pointed out to him by the man.
  
  "And the White Walker?" Jaime had been able to see the creature disintegrate from where he stood on the shore. They had been too far out though for him to be entirely sure every last wight had been destroyed.
  
  "That was strange." Jon answered his question. "He just stood upright on the raft, barely able to keep his balance. He had no weapons left and raised his arms, leaving himself wide open. He was shot point blank with a single arrow coming from one of the ships. One tiny arrowhead of dragonglass aimed for the spot where his heart would have been if he had possessed one. It was almost too easy."
  
  "Perhaps having lost all his weapons and being out on water he was out of options? Perhaps he hoped he could get some of the dead come crawling out of the depths of the sea? That's how the other one on the lake resurrected the drowned ones, wasn't it? Just by raising his arms?" Jaime Lannister ventured.
  
  "Perhaps. Then he must not have realised how deep the sea was. They can't swim so they are not familiar with water." Jon reasoned.
  
  "Why then go out on the rafts?" Jaime wondered.
  
  "It could have been a command from their commander, the Night King. Or it could have been the irresistible lure of all those beating hearts on the boats? Who knows?" Jon released a deep breath. "We keep getting off track. Is there a rule number two?"
  
  "Lure the White Fuckers to a vulnerable position. Destroy the cunts and be fucking done with it. No use going after dumb carcasses of wights if we don't fucking have to." Jaime Lannister used a rougher voice when he spoke these words.
  
  "Let me guess," Jon gave him a small smile. "Sandor Clegane came up with that one."
  
  "What gave it away?" Jaime gave Jon a wan smile. "You sure have a strange way of picking your guards. Clegane, the Mountain's brother and I just heard you appointed a Lady to your Kingsguard?" Jaime Lannister shook his head. The man looked sad now and Jon could easily imagine him to be a bit jealous as well.
  
  "Sandor is loyal to a fault and a fearsome fighter. He hides a heart of gold under his rude speech and rough behaviour. He hated his brother and was almost the only one who dared to speak up and condemn the murder of my half-siblings and their mother. I lost a great Kingsguard when he decided to live amongst the Free Folk. And the Lady Brienne, well she almost beat him in a fight. She fights well and is certainly strong enough. I have yet to meet a man who is more honourable than her." Jon defended his appointments with fervour."
  
  When Jaime winced slightly Jon recollected himself. "Never mind all that. I need neither your consent nor approval. Just tell me what plan you have all come up with to eradicate the ones that fled."
  
  "Simply put, you are the bait." Jaime looked at Jon clearly expecting a strong reaction.
  
  "Rhaegal and Viserion won't like that. They are rather protective of me." Jon answered calmly, refusing to get riled up. He had faith they would not just throw him to the wolves.
  
  "Then you will have to persuade your dragons. We know there can only be one or two White Walkers left. So it won't be that difficult."
  
  "I think only one considering I killed another one the rafts."
  
  "To think that is all that is left from such an impressive host. Those Free Folk should worship the ground that you walk on. You almost singlehandedly saved all of their asses."
  
  "Trust me. They do. They did long before any of you dumb cunts of southern fuckers did." Now Jon imitated Sandor Clegane's voice.
  
  "I know all too well. Tormund almost jumped me and only agreed to our plan when I told him all the contingencies in place to keep you safe. They would rather throw themselves in front of you in a suicidal way instead of having a single curly hair on your charming head harmed." Jaime revealed a fragment of the discussion that had taken place while Jon had rested.
  
  "If we have some time to kill when things settle down, I will tell you all you about the time I fled Castle Black and found a warm welcome amongst the Free Folk."
  
  "I might have heard a version of the tale. Stokeworth and Tormund each told their half of it. And I heard from Giantsbane how some of their fiercest leaders kneeled to you after you saved them when you heeded the cry for help from your uncle, Benjen Stark."
  
  Jaime paused and tilted his head slightly. "Now, enough stalling. Tell me about the prophecy that Prince Rhaegar found." Lannister's tone persuaded Jon that he would not be dissuaded from trying to get to the bottom of this.
  
  Jon acquiesced. "There are two. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that one is a tale and the other is a prophecy. On the one hand there is the northern tale of the Long Night and the Others that rise during a long cold Winter striving to bring eternal darkness and destroying every last living being. They speak of a last hero who together with the children of the forest defeated them eight thousand years ago after which the Wall was built and the Night's Watch was established.
  
  On the other hand there is the eastern prophesy of Azor Ahai, a hero that will defeat the Darkness with a flaming sword. This hero is also called the Prince That Was Promised. This Prince is also said to have 'a song of Ice and Fire'. My father, Prince Rhaegar, was obsessed with this prophecy.
  
  First he suspected he himself might be this Prince Who Was Promised. Later he became convinced that the Prince must be one of his sons. He wanted to sire a third child because the dragon needs three heads, he wrote to Maester Aemon at the Wall. Since his wife couldn't give him a third child, he sought to wed a new wife. He had a purpose in choosing Lyanna Stark.
  
  Now everything points to me. I am the Son of Ice and Fire. I have both ice from the Kings of Winter and fire from the Targaryen dragonlords running through my veins. Greenseers have affirmed this. I have been born to keep the balance. When evil rises, good must rise to. Also, a red priest has seen in the flames that I am The Prince That was Promised and..." Jon's voice faltered. He bit his lower lip.
  
  "And?" Jaime encouraged him.
  
  "And I had a vision myself." Jon admitted.
  
  "So you are convinced you are the only one who can defeat this great general up in the North?"
  
  "Their King." Jon whispered now. "Only a King can defeat a King. I need to become King of the Seven Kingdoms first. Only then do I stand a chance against their leader."
  
  "Nobody here told me anything about that." Jaime studied Jon's face.
  
  "Nobody knows yet except for my small council. Hells, I didn't believe it myself until I found their magic hideout nobody can enter." He kept his voice down so even if someone walked by the tent, they would not be able to overhear them.
  
  "Not even the Prince Who Was Promised." Jaime kept his tone low now too.
  
  "Not even me seated on a powerful fire breathing dragon could break the barrier. That are problems for later, Lannister." Jon tried to give his voice some authority when he spoke up again. "Please keep this information to yourself for now. Let us concentrate on preventing any of his foot soldiers or White Walkers from returning to him. They must not be allowed to inform him of what happened here."
  
  "Assuming they share no magic link and that it isn't too late already." Jaime ventured shrugging his shoulders. "I hate magic."
  
  "Let us hope that even if they do have such magic, they can't communicate over such a vast distance. That is another reason to make haste. We need to go after them as soon as possible. Now about your plan, I believe you still need to tell me the particulars?"
  
  When Jon stepped outside for a bit of fresh air, Stokeworth used the opportunity to approach him.
  
  "My Prince, have you heard?" His voice faltered.
  
  Jon watched him with compassion. The man had a stab wound just under his left shoulder, a split upper lip and a nasty burn on his left hand. He put his hand on the man's right shoulder.
  
  "I am sorry, Gylles. I know he was a close friend to you. I am truly sorry. I will personally write to his family after everything has been settled. Do you know what happened?"
  
  Stokeworth proceeded to tell him that Rykker had been sliced through by a rusted sword when he desperately attempted to reach his Prince. His body had been burned moments after he drew his last breath. There would be no body to burn on the ceremonial funeral pyre they were planning.
  
  "We'll honour him just the same." Jon had responded to the man's despondent tone. "Any other's you knew well among the casualties?"
  
  "Edgerton didn't get a chance to engage the enemy and is all right. Edd Tollet has a couple of bruises. The others I do not think you knew. Ulmer died when an arrow pierced his throat. Albett lies in the tent of the more severely wounded. He might lose his right arm. The others only have shallow cuts and bruises. Perhaps I should also mention Todder's sprained ankle. But no, I wasn't close to any of them."
  
  "I saw you speaking to Jaime Lannister in a friendly fashion." Stokeworth added a moment later. "We were all surprised to hear of him helping you. We all wanted to be the one to keep you safe and instead, this man, he..." Stokeworth's feelings got the better of him and he had to turn his face away.
  
  "I know it is difficult to believe but Jaime Lannister has chosen to uphold the promise he made to my father, Prince Rhaegar. There is more to this man than meets the eye. He told me why he killed my grandfather. I have absolved him from any blame for that. He had a most honourable reason to act the way he did. He should have told the entire realm what disaster he singlehandedly prevented from happening that day." Jon defended Lannister.
  
  "But still, all he did afterwards." Stokeworth objected.
  
  "I told him that I didn't trust him when we met at Castle Black. He asked for a chance to redeem himself and to make good on the promise he gave my father. I guess he took it. It is highly likely that those two White Walkers would have succeeded in killing me if Lannister had not been able to reach me when he did." Jon elaborated.
  
  "I guess." Stokeworth answered reluctantly.
  
  "Crows or men of the Night's Watch fighting side by side with Free Folk also known as Wildlings, would you have believed that a few moons ago?" Jon asked him.
  
  "No, my Prince."
  
  "Well there you have it. Perhaps you should give Jaime Lannister a chance then?"
  
  "I will if you ask me to, my Prince." Stokeworth answered and the matter was closed.
  
  When darkness covered the lands beyond the Wall, Sandor and Stokeworth kept watch when both Jon and Orell warged into birds to search for the whereabouts of the enemy. Jon had found a night owl. Orell followed him in his eagle. The enemy had indeed not ventured far yet. Jon counted only a few hundred wights. No wonder Rhaegal and Viserion had been exhausted. If that was all that was left of a force of fifty thousand strong, they must really have outdone themselves. He only saw one White Walker. If only they had taken one more out on the battlefield they could have all slept soundly tonight. A short burial ceremony the next morning and he could have been flying south once more. Instead he was flying in the body of a rather young night owl using the bird's ability to see things clearly in the dark.
  
  Having located the enemy he now continued further north scouting the landscape for a clearing matching Jaime Lannister's requirements. Jon released the eagle and regained consciousness back in the war tent. He quickly leapt to his feet and instructed the small force consisting exclusively of Free Folk and Jaime Lannister to head out. Jaime had changed his attire and wore a copy of Jon's coat. He had also used black coals to darken his hair. They spurred their horses. They intended to circle around the enemy and still reach that clearing before the next night fell. They counted on the fact that the enemy would camp out somewhere during daylight. Perhaps they hid in caves or crawled under bushes? Orell would try to find out. Much about the enemy was still a mystery. They would close the trap when the enemy marched once more after dusk the next night.
  
  Jaime sat in the middle of the clearing and waited for the show to start. He had lit a small fire and was roasting a rabbit. The others were hidden north of the clearing and were watching the sky. Viserion who lay a bit further away suddenly lifted his head which startled a few men who had been eying the dragon that lay too close for their comfort with some anxiety. They followed the large beast's gaze and saw a dark shadow move thought the sky. It was time.
  
  Jon heard their screeches before he saw them. He flew low above the ground and gave Rhaegal the go ahead. He lowered his back and grasped the spines tightly. Rhaegal made the perfect show. It appeared as if he tried to climb higher up into the sky only to falter each time and dropped back down turning and losing his balance. He repeated these antics a few times always ending up a bit further north. When he finally hoovered over the clearing he successfully mimicked a dramatic fall from the skies.
  
  The darkness combined with the trees and bushes between the wights and the clearing made it impossible for the enemy to see what really occurred once Rhaegal's form disappeared behind the tall tree tops. Both dragon and rider hid north of the clearing and Jaime Lannister sat on the ground pretending to be the crashed dragonrider.
  
  As soon as the first wights entered the clearing Jaime sprang to his feet. The White Walker also entered the clearing. Upon seeing Jaime all alone, he stopped and all the wights who had already entered the clearing halted as well. The White Walker carefully studied the environment taking his time, probably searching for a sign of the dragon. Rhaegal lying on the opposite end of the clearing let out a small groan. That was enough confirmation for the White Walker. He allowed the rest of the wights to enter the clearing. Jaime took a few steps to his left side which put even more distance between him and the green dragon.
  
  The moment the wights charged at him he rolled to the side and Rhaegal let out an enormous burst of fire killing a large group of wights. Viserion who had been hiding south of the clearing knew it was his turn. The silverwhite dragon rose up in the sky and let out a big roar. Moments later the trees behind the wights resembled giant torches. The wights that had escaped his dragonfire were all forced to enter the clearing.
  
  The twenty men of the Free Folk that they had handpicked from a large group of volunteers now left their hiding place and stood in a wide circle behind Jaime Lannister. All had torches in their hands. Jon who had stayed hidden behind Rhaegal now climbed on his dragon's back and took out his bow and arrow. Jaime had Blackfyre in his hand and slew the few wights that reached him with remarkable ease. Viserion had successfully created half a circle of fire. No one could escape that way. The White Walker fixed his stare on Jon and raised his arms.
  
  The ground around him moved. A dozen frozen corpses dug their way to the surface and fixed their macabre blue eyes on him. The clearing was a either a burial ground or the place where a hunting party had met their untimely end. While Jon was about to curse their bad luck, Rhaegal was not impressed and simply burned all the newly recruited corpses before they had the chance to emerge completely from their graves.
  
  The Free Folk all took out their bows. Jon loosened his first arrow. The White Walker ducked and advanced on him. Several arrows hit him. A few got stuck in the creature's right arm. The White Walker only fastened his pace towards Jon. Jaime slew the last wight with Blackfyre and tried to catch up with the White Walker. The creature still had a big lead.
  
  "Lannister, keep your distance. Remember what I told you." Jon shouted and was relieved to see the man stop in his tracks. Although it was too dark to see his facial expression, Jon was sure Jaime Lannister was very frustrated. "Nock your arrows. Wait for my command." Jon ordered the Free Folk that still stood in an orderly half circle behind him.
  
  Without further ado, Rhaegal and Viserion enveloped the White Walker in dragonfire, Rhaegal from the front, Viserion from behind.
  
  "Loose!" Jon shouted.
  
  A new salvo of dragonglass arrows hit the White Walker who was using all his energy to keep the fire at bay. One moment the creature was still standing there, the next the two streams of fire hit one another. At once both Viserion and Rhaegal stopped breathing fire. Silence fell over the clearing. The only sound Jon's ears picked up was the crackling of the fire that was raging at the south end of the clearing. The large burning trees there provided ample light to make sure that not a single enemy creature had survived the attack.
  
  On Jaime Lannister's signal, the Free Folk broke their formation and advanced to set fire to every single part of a wight they could find.
  
  "It is over, my Prince." Jaime helped Jon descend from the dragon. Rhaegal kept a wary eye on him but let the man help his human whose frail leg was still a bit stiff. As soon as Jon stood solidly on the frozen ground, Lannister just held Blackfyre in both hands and offered it back to his Prince.
  
  "It is over for now." Jon corrected Jaime Lannister while he accepted his sword and proceeded to sheath it into the empty scabbard dangling from his waist. "The Gods only know when they will strike again."
  
  "First you claim your throne. Next time that I see you, I hope to call you my King, my Prince. I would give anything to be allowed to swear you my sword."
  
  "With all the strange things we have seen these last few sennights, who knows. Anything can happen." Jon looked up to the sky. "I'd like to send word. Do you have some writing material on you perchance?"
  
  "Whatever for?"
  
  "See that eagle up there? That is Orell. I want to send a message to Hardhome."
  
  "Wouldn't it be faster if you flew there on your dragon? The threat has been eliminated. We will be safe now when we travel back to Hardhome. We will meet you there in a day."
  
  "After the burial ceremony I'll probably return to Eastwatch and then onward to Dragonstone." Jon warned him and then turned to the men of the Free Folk who had agreed to come on this mission.
  
  "Thanks for your support. Together we just completed another successful battle." He spoke up so everyone could hear him loud and clear.
  
  "It was an easy victory with two dragons by our side." Their leader spoke up. "The Free Folk owe a big debt to the Dragonrider."
  
  "The Dragonrider is honoured to have been offered the friendship of the Free Folk." Jon responded formally. He looked around one last time and turned to mount his dragon.
  
  Jaime nudged his side. "Chances are I won't see you again before you fly off to Eastwatch. I have orders to return with my men to Castle Black and no excuse whatsoever to make a detour to Eastwatch first. Could you spare me a few moment of your time now before you return to Hardhome. No matter how fast I urge my horse, I will never make it there on time."
  
  Jon looked into the man's pleading cat-green eyes and relented. "Let's find a dry spot to sit down for a moment then."
  
  "You are sure we have another battle of this scale to look forward too?" Jaime asked when they sat down on a fallen tree.
  
  "Looking forward is perhaps not the right term." Jon sighed. "But yes. At least a battle this scale. The Gods know how much more powerful the enemy will grow before they emerge from their magic stronghold."
  
  "I want to be put in charge of organising our defenses and coming up with a strategy." Jaime requested.
  
  "You have ideas." Jon stated the obvious.
  
  "Several. I won't trouble you with details now. Bottom line, we do not fight out in the open. You convince the Warden of the North to let the Free Folk find refuge for a while south of the Wall and use this large ice structure your ancestors built to hold off each attack they launch. Their numbers won't matter if we have the upper ground. This way you could deplete their numbers slowly but surely."
  
  Jon looked at Jaime. "That was my ideal plan for this battle but there was no way the Lords of the North and the Night's Watch would have agreed to let the Free Folk south of the Wall nor would the Free Folk have willingly evacuated their lands. The time we had to convince both parties was too short. Hardly anybody had ever seen a wight before let alone a White Walker. It is a difficult thing to believe without seeing it with your own eyes."
  
  "Things are different now and you have moons, perhaps even years to prepare. As I said, I have several ideas on how to use the Wall to our advantage. Let me take some of this burden of your shoulders, Prince Aegon." Jaime pleaded.
  
  "I'll talk with Ser Gerold and we will keep in touch. Probably by raven." Jon promised.
  
  "I would give anything to be a free man and swear you my sword. Your father was a dear friend and ever since I learned that they are alive, I miss my former mentors, Ser Arthur most of all. My whole world has been turned upside down since I heard they survived the Rebellion and a son of Prince Rhaegar lived. If only I could turn back time." Jaime bowed his head overcome with emotion.
  
  "Do you know," he continued a bit later, "that I almost had to beg Cotter Pyke on my knees to be allowed to join the fighting force heading for Hardhome? I would have though. I would have prostrated myself before him if necessary. I made a promise to your father."
  
  Jon stayed silent. His respect for Jaime Lannister had grown with leaps and bounds. It was difficult to still see in him the man that had pushed his cousin Bran from that tower. When he looked at Jaime Lannister now, he saw a capable battle commander, a brave man willing to put his life on the line for a cause he believed in. Not only had he jumped in the fray amongst hundreds of wights, he had also offered to be the bait this very night.
  
  ' Just as a Kingsguard would do!' Jon chastised himself for not having drawn the comparison before. He suddenly saw Jaime Lannister's behaviour in a new light. The man stuck close to Jon whenever he had the opportunity. He had been able to reached Jon when no one else succeeded and tonight he had taken Jon's place as bait. All moves a trained Kingsguard would make, never mind his promise to Prince Rhaegar to protect his offspring. Jaime Lannister was a trained Kingsguard, one trained by Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan, all the best of men.
  
  Jon kept staring in the distance his mind warring with conflicting feelings. He was still debating how to respond when Jaime Lannister broke the silence once more. His voice sounded resigned to his fate now.
  
  "I wish you all the best, my Prince. I look forward to receiving the raven that heralds you as King Aegon the Sixth of his Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and the True Protector of the Realms of Men. Perhaps one day the Night's Watch might send me on a mission to find new recruits and I can see you in the Throne Room sitting on the Iron Throne with my own eyes."
  
  Jon finally turned his head and met Jaime Lannister's melancholic eyes. "Perhaps. But you will certainly see me at Castle Black when the Night King makes his next move. I will write to Cotter Pyke on your behalf."
  
  Jaime nodded and stayed silent.
  
  "I better return to my dragons and fly to Hardhome." Jon made a move to get up and was immediately offered the strong arm of Jaime Lannister. He let himself be pulled upright. "You've proven you are more than what people say about you, Ser Jaime." Jon used Lannister's former title on purpose. "You showed us and yourself that you can still make a difference and lead an honourable life. Try not to dwell too much on past mistakes and strive to become the man you were always destined to be. Title or not, the vows of your knighthood still motivate your actions. I'll recommend you to Cotter Pyke and order him to ignore the restrictions Robert Baratheon gave him when you were sentenced to the Wall."
  
  "I'm grateful, my Prince." Jaime bowed and released his arm when they neared the group of the Free Folk.
  
  Jon nodded and turned to take his leave of the small group of volunteers. He knew only a few of them by name. Sandor and Tormund had handpicked them when they had finally agreed to stay behind to see to it that Free Folk, Crows and 'Southerners' would not get into more drunken fights.
  
  High up in the air he kept thinking of the rueful, dejected demeanour of Jaime Lannister and wondered if they would consider him crazy if he relayed to them how difficult it had been not to pardon Jaime Lannister on the spot and give him back his life south of the Wall. He felt a kind of an unexplainable kinship with the former knight, and couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Jaime Lannister had been present at the Tower of Joy all these years ago and someone else, for example Ser Arthur had stayed in the Red Keep when the Mad King threatened to burn down King's Landing and all its inhabitants.
  
  When he reached Hardhome, he was obliged to put these thoughts away to examine them at a later date. Lady Brienne was waiting for him a safe distance away from his dragons. Edric and Loras Tyrell were also approaching. He hadn't seen the three of them since he left them on the ship after the rafts had been burned and the White Walker leading the attack on his fleet that had been defeated.
  
  Lady Brienne greeted him formally. Edric came running up next and gave him a brief hug. Loras stood awkwardly next to Brienne and bowed. "My Prince."
  
  "I must congratulate you all on a job well done." Jon spoke to all three of them but his gaze lingered longer on Lady Brienne.
  
  "You were right, my Prince. They did come for the ships." Lady Brienne answered demurely but the colour rose in her cheeks.
  
  "Pathetic attack." Edric remarked. "I heard about the fight here. I can't imagine fifty thousand men in one place. Let alone all of them trying to kill you."
  
  "Let's talk about this some other time. We first need to honour our fallen. Have you seen Sandor around or do you know when the ceremony will be held?"
  
  "Tonight shortly before dusk." Loras Tyrell answered.
  
  "Then I can first catch some sleep. I am turning into a night owl. Fighting at night and sleeping the morning away." Jon looked at the sky and guessed by the position of the sun that he still could get plenty or rest in before the sun reached its highest peak.
  
  "Wouldn't you prefer to break your fast first, my Prince?" Lady Brienne offered.
  
  "I will, perhaps while we eat you can brief me on what happened at your end?" Jon asked while he walked to the side of the encampment where the cooks always had food at the ready.
  
  To Jon it seemed as if he had only been asleep for mere moments when someone shook him awake.
  
  "Jon. Jon! An urgent message for your eyes only."
  
  Jon scrambled to get to a sitting position. "How? When? From whom?"
  
  "Forwarded from Eastwatch to Hardhome. I think it is from Davos or Ser Gerold. Anyway, it came originally from Dragonstone." Gendry was still breathing heavily. It seemed he had run all the way to the tent where Jon was resting.
  
  Jon rubbed his eyes and clumsily broke the familiar seal. "It is from Davos all right." He paled and dropped the scroll in his lap.
  
  "I need to fly to Dragonstone. I have not an instance to lose. Gendry, tell everyone to go ahead with the funeral as planned. Afterward anyone who wants to leave and go home can do so. I want you, Edric, Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne to head for Eastwatch tomorrow morning and await further instructions."
  
  He smiled tiredly at his friend. "You might get to see Winterfell sooner than you imagined, Gendry."
  
  "Jon, shouldn't you rest up a bit longer. What can be so urgent that you can't spare half a day. You will at least need two days to get there. Are you and your dragons really up for that? How is your thigh?"
  
  Jon picked up the scroll again and read the few lines one more time. "I'll ask my dragons." He decided finally and awkwardly got to his feet.
  
  "Can't you ask them from here? I mean, just close your eyes and do your thing?" Gendry urged Jon to return to his previous position.
  
  "You are not thinking clearly," he further tried to persuade his friend. "A clear sign you are exhausted from everything you've been through. I hope your dragons agree with me. I might tie you up if they don't."
  
  "Damn, I'll miss you, Gendry. Somehow, you get under my skin without me resenting you for it. It must have something to do with our shared blood, Cousin. I pray you can have a calming influence on Robb as well when you see him next."
  
  Not waiting for a reply, Jon closed his eyes and contacted his dragons. Rhaegal was fast asleep and Jon could sense the dragon's exhaustion. He was not fit to fly the entire way to Dragonstone yet. Better to wait one more day than crashing into the Shivering Sea from exhaustion.
  
  "No need to search for those ropes, Gendry. I'll rest a bit longer. Wake me if I sleep past the second half of the afternoon.
  
  The funeral ceremony marked another event for the history books: Wildlings, Crows and Lords of the North praying together, honouring their dead in a joint ceremony. Jon made a mental note to describe the funeral in fine detail to Sam later.
  
  He was set to fly to Eastwatch at first light and then evaluate Rhaegal's condition before attempting the long trek south. He had spent some time with Rhaegal when they both were awake in the late afternoon. Jon had urged him to eat some more to regain his strength. The dragon's spirit had lifted when he heard they would soon be heading home to Dragonstone. Jon was sure Rhaegal would do his best to regain his strength as soon as possible. If it had not been so cold at night, Jon would have slept amidst his dragons his last night beyond the Wall. Instead he opted to set up a larger tent close to the beach where his dragons had settled in for the night. Ghost and Gendry would stay with him during the night.
  
  Loras, Edric and Lady Brienne kept him company until it was time to retire. Loras and Edric entertained Jon with a hilarious description of Lady Brienne's encounter with Tormund Giantsbane. The man had flirted shamefully with her and had offered to set her up with one of his friends all the while telling her how his heart was sad that he only met her after he had already been claimed by another. Lady Brienne at first took part in the conversation making fun of the big red headed half-giant. By the end of the tale however she had fallen silent and sported two big red cheeks.
  
  Despite the fact that Jon had slept a large part of the day, he fell asleep immediately and it was not until the early morning that his sleep was disturbed by strange dreams. He woke with a start and felt energized. All would be well. This time it had not been nightmares that had awoken him. If what he had dreamt was a greendream, then perhaps things would work out for the best.
  
  He exited the tent in time to see a beautiful red sun emerging from the water and colour the sky in all shades of orange and red. He stretched his body and lifted his arms up towards the sky. Things were looking up. Soon he would be back on Dragonstone and he could finally concentrate on claiming the throne that had been stolen from his family. It was time to clear his father's name and tell the realm what a loving husband he had been instead of a rapist. And then he and Dany would marry.
  
  When he looked back towards the sea, the water once more looked its normal shade of greenish blue and the sun had risen a bit higher in a now clear blue sky. 'Time to break my fast. If Jaime Lannister has ridden part of the night, I will still be able to say goodbye to him before he heads back to Castle Black. I'll make certain to talk to my three Kingsguards about him. They knew him before things went wrong. I need to learn more about who he was before.'
  
  Jon's musings were interrupted when Ghost nudged his left thigh. Jon petted the white wolf's head.
  
  "Come on, Ghost. Time to find us some food."
  
  Jon was in the midst of breaking his fast when Lord Osric Umber appeared. "My Prince." He greeted. "I am sorry to disturb your meal but we all heard you will be leaving soon and a spokesman for the Bolton men has asked repeatedly to be granted an audience. I stalled him yesterday but now I think perhaps that was wrong."
  
  "Wrong?"
  
  "Who knows when you will be returning to the North, my Prince?" Lord Umber stated the obvious. "These men want to be reassured. They suffered the heavier losses if you take into account what a small group they were to begin with."
  
  "How did that come about?" Jon asked fully alert now.
  
  "Sheer bad luck. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, shall we say. The gap froze over where they were positioned on the front lines. Many of these men were servants instead of seasoned warriors."
  
  "I didn't realise servants had been placed on the front lines." Jon frowned.
  
  "They volunteered, my Prince. Repeatedly if I may say so. They were under my command. Do not assume the blame for my decision to give in to their request"
  
  "Then granting their spokesmen some of my attention is the least I can do for them. If I do not have the time, can you send Lord Bolton a message conveying my thanks for their assistance and describe the bravery his men showed in the face of such a fierce enemy?"
  
  "You can count on it my Prince. And I'll summon Nage immediately." The large man bowed and left Jon and Ghost to finish their meal in peace.
  
  Jon's mind once more debated on how random actions could change the fate of men. This time it was not only Jaime Lannister's predicament that occupied his mind, he thought about Rykker, Stokeworth, Domeric Bolton and also about the poor servants that had died trying to regain honour they hadn't really lost in the first place. How many men had already died in his service over the years? He was glad to focus on something else when Lord Umber reappeared with Nage, the spokesman for the Bolton delegation and focussed his attention on hearing what the man came to say.
  
  Before he left, Jon briefly took his leave from the leaders of the Free Folk. Gendry, Tormund, Sandor and Ygritte got a more personal goodbye. Stokeworth had tears in his eyes when Jon hugged him and whispered in his ear that if all went well he could expect to receive a royal pardon very soon and if he so desired, that he would always have a position at his court.
  
  Jon sent a scroll to Lord Manderly informing his Master of Ships that he had given the ships docked at the Bay of Ice the order to return to Bear Island. The ships at Hardhome would sail to Eastwatch and stay there another fortnight until things were settled over there.
  
  He also gave Lady Brienne detailed instructions for their travels south. They would sail with the fleet to Eastwatch, hand over a scroll from Jon to the Commander there and then choose three ships to safely sail all the way to Dragonstone. Edric and Loras would of course accompany her. Gendry planned to travel to Winterfell in the company of the small group from Winterfell. He also carried several letters from Jon. He would visit there for a moon or so and then continue south to Dragonstone or King's Landing if all went according to plan.
  
  At first Jon had wanted to send Ghost south with Lady Brienne. But after communicating with his direwolf, it became clear that Ghost would rather travel overland. His direwolf did not even opt to accompany Gendry for the first part of the journey. Ghost clearly preferred to travel at his own speed. Jon was worried for his direwolf's safety but had relented acknowledging the fact that Ghost had a right to make his own decisions. He was not a pet but a companion and a dear friend. He just hoped that his direwolf would not get lost or come to harm on his way south.
  
  Jon felt as if a big weight had fallen off his shoulders the moment his dragons took to the sky and he could leave the North behind. He waved one last time at his friends who had assembled to see him off. He had done his duty and could finally concentrate on his own cause again.
  
  Interlude 33: A pack has only one leader
  
  "You are just parroting what Jon says and does." Robb accused his Uncle.
  
  "I am only thinking of your well-being and of what is best for the North." Benjen Stark tried once more to make his nephew see sense. "Just look at it from Lord Norrey's perspective.
  
  "I don't have to. I am the ruling Warden of the North in absence of my father and I will grant Lord Flint his request. I don't have to consider Lord Norrey's wishes and I certainly am under no obligation to heed your advice."
  
  "All right, I give in, Nephew. Let us not quarrel over such a small issue." Benjen took a step forward prepared to concede once more. It had been a trying few sennights. Robb fought him at every turn. It seemed his stubborn brother had ordered his son and heir to rule the North the same way he did: with absolute authority and relying solely on his own rigid ideas and decisions.
  
  'The Lords of the North are stubborn.' Ned Stark had written to his son. 'Give them a little leeway and they'll never obey you again. The only way to keep them in hand is to rule with an iron fist and never have your edicts second guessed by anyone, not in public, not even in private. Such things have a way of getting out and nobody will respect you if they so much as get a hint that you lean on others to come to a decision.'
  
  Robb stood up leaning his hands on the large desk and towered over his uncle who remained seated. "If it was only this one time, I might give you a free pass, Uncle. But you offer unrequested advice at every opportunity, knowing full well you bestow it to an unwilling recipient and much too frequently. I have tried to be patient, Uncle. But perhaps I am to blame to have let this situation get out of hand. I ask you formally to cease interfering in my business or you will no longer be welcomed in my presence."
  
  "Robb, please sit down again. I understand that..."
  
  He was cut off by Robb's riposte. "Don't you dare tell me one more time that I am tired or not well enough yet. Or perhaps this time you were about to retort that I was not thinking clearly because I have too much on my plate for one so young? Whichever excuse you were going to come up with for what you perceive to be unreasonable behaviour on my account, let me tell you once and for all that I am well again and I am thinking clearly. Just because I have a different opinion than you on some things, doesn't mean that I am the one who is in the wrong. Ever think of that, Uncle?"
  
  Benjen Stark bit his tongue in an effort not to yell at his nephew. His thoughts flitted back to the events in the training yard this morning. It had been abundantly clear how quickly Robb had tired and how frustrated his nephew had been when he had lost the grip on his sword several times and haddropped it like a green boy just starting to learn his first moves.
  
  But Benjen couldn't get around the truth any longer. Things hadn't gone smoothly between him and Robb lately. Robb disagreed with almost every statement that came out of his mouth. Sometimes it seemed that his nephew did it just because he could contradict him. There had been a particular discussion where Benjen had tested this theory. They had debated a problem at the beginning of the meeting and Benjen had leaned one way with his advice to have it contradicted by Robb who instantly changed the subject. When later during the same meeting they returned to the still unresolved topic and Benjen had given the exact opposite advice compared to earlier, Robb had instantly told his uncle he was utterly wrong and had asked Benjen to just let him handle the problem on his own.
  
  He sighed when he saw the stubborn look on Robb's face. "Am I to understand that you are fully recovered and no longer need my presence here at Winterfell?" Benjen did his utmost to keep the bitterness from showing in the tone of his voice.
  
  "I have things under control here and you are free to leave. I know you are itching to go back to my paragon of a cousin. Don't let me keep you." Robb answered and sat back down.
  
  Benjen tried not to flinch and hid how insulted he felt. Ever since he had let it drop that Jon had become betrothed to Princess Daenerys and that it was a love match, Robb had at times shown a slight resentment toward his cousin. It didn't help that Ned was urging his son to consent to a betrothal with Lady Margaery of House Tyrell before allowing the young couple to meet each other first as had previously been agreed.
  
  "Your cousin is putting his life at risk to save the North. He is perhaps on the battlefield as we speak." Benjen kept his voice down but his body language showed his disapprobation.
  
  "I don't want to talk about this any further." Robb sighed. "Just leave me alone for now, Uncle. I still need to respond to all these messages.
  
  Benjen Stark left his chair. "Shall I send for Maester Luwin?"
  
  "No need." Robb answered not looking up. "I have it under control."
  
  Two days later at the crack of dawn in the courtyard of Winterfell
  
  "Are you really going all the way South to the Iron Throne, Uncle Benjen? Can I come with you?"
  
  Arya Stark tugged at his coat stopping her uncle from grabbing the reins of his horse. His youngest niece had always been an early riser and she had been sent to bed long before the small farewell feast had been in full swing.
  
  Benjen turned and looked down into her eager eyes. "Perhaps next time, Arya."
  
  "Jon will need me to come visit soon, I am sure of it." Her big eyes pleaded with her uncle to reconsider.
  
  "Then you better wait till you receive his invitation, little one." He smiled at her eagerness.
  
  "I am no longer little. Tell Jon that when you see him. Tell him I will help him get rid of the usurperer." She tugged at his coat to make sure he heeded her words.
  
  "Usurper, Arya. And I won't forget to tell him that, you have my word. But in turn you must promise me to keep training hard and show up in time for your lessons with Maester Luwin. A King's protector not only needs to know how to wield a sword but must be smart and know all the sigils and the allegiances of the houses of the entire realm. That and many more things so you can be a real help to your cousin." He gently wormed his coat out of the strong grip of her little fist.
  
  "I will do my best, Uncle Benjen. Make sure to tell Jon that too." She stepped back so he could grab the reins of his horse.
  
  "It is time that I am off then. Don't forget to write to Jon yourself. I know how much he enjoys receiving a raven from you." He smiled when he saw her nod several times with honest conviction.
  
  Benjen quickly mounted his stallion and spurred it in the direction of the large gate. Leaving the stronghold, he prayed that Robb would be able to cope with everything on his own. He would have to persuade Jon that it was for the best that he left Robb to his own devices. If Jon had only glimpsed a part of Robb's behaviour during the small feast that Catelyn had arranged as a sending off party for him, he would not question Benjen's decision to leave. Robb had hardly spoken a word to his uncle until later in the evening when he was in his cups. In his drunken state, his nephew had made some derogatory remarks that still hurt too much to dwell on. Benjen startled when he heard the large gates of his childhood home close after him.
  
  He took a deep breath and felt the knot in his stomach ease. It was time for a new era to begin. This Stark was travelling south. He urged his horse faster and rode in the direction of the Kingsroad. He had sent out ravens to all his acquaintances for a fresh horse to be readied. He would travel on his own, overland at high speed and would arrive in King's Landing in a record number of days. And at the end of this arduous journey he would find a nephew who would welcome him with open arms and who would be grateful and very happy to have his company and advice.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter will take place at King's Landing.
  
  The interlude on the other hand will show us how Tyrion is faring at Casterly Rock.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A King's conscience
  Chapter 34: A King's conscience
  
  Summary:
  
  King Robert gets played.
  
  The interlude takes place at Casterly Rock and is set slightly in the future.
  
  Notes:
  
  Due to unforeseen circumstances this chapter is unbeta'd. I chose to post it anyway so you all did not have to wait another week for an update.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon had briefly considered stopping at Winterfell but had quickly decided against it. He had already lost valuable time and Rhaegal seemed to have recuperated well enough to travel a long distance in a straight line. Besides, if Davos sent him such an urgent but welcome message, he better not linger too long. And who was he kidding? Even if he intended to make a very short stop to see Robb, Uncle Benjen and the rest of his cousins, it would be awfully difficult to leave after only a short greeting. They would have little problem guilt tripping him into staying at least a day.
  
  Since there was no need to make a detour overland to stop at Greywater Watch, his journey would be considerably shorter if he travelled along the east coast. This time Jon was in a real hurry to get home and not just to see Dany again. He planned to rest part of the night at Widow's Watch or on the shores of the northern most Finger. He would let his dragons decide which of the two.
  
  High up in the air, with the wind blowing in his face, he felt the excitement bubbling up inside of him. Free of the worry that the dead would overrun the Free Folk anytime soon, he could finally allow himself to be selfish and embrace his own goals. The Iron Throne was so close he could almost hear it calling out to him. And his betrothal would be a really short one. If all went well, they needed only to wait for the time it took to organise the ceremony. Then he would no longer have to limit himself to kisses and stolen touches under the all-seeing eyes of Ser Barristan.
  
  His mood improved the nearer they got to Dragonstone. He was slightly disappointed to see that his ships did not yet display the Targaryen sigil when the bay of Dragonstone came into sight. Everything looked just as before. Perhaps fewer ships were anchored in the smaller bay but no visible signal of Targaryens ruling supreme. When he thought about it some more, he had to admit that it was for the best. Better to play it safe and not botch things up at the very last moment.
  
  Seeing a lot of activity in the larger harbour and some familiar looking silhouettes as well, he landed close by the docks. He had been right. Ser Gerold and the rest of his Kingsguards were overseeing the loading of his flagship, the Princess Daenerys. 'Must do something about that name soon.' A big smile lit his face at that thought and it didn't diminish when he limped awkwardly towards his loyal friends. He had forgotten how stiff his wounded leg got after a long period of inaction.
  
  "My Prince!" Ser Gerold called out while running up to him. The four knights met him more than halfway but stopped a few feet away from him. "We got word from Eastwatch that you were coming. You certainly made good time. How is your leg?"
  
  "I won't be sparring for a few days yet I am afraid. I will need you to protect my back." He answered smiling from ear to ear.
  
  "We'll protect your front, your left and your right side as well," Ser Arthur made a small step forward as he joined the conversation. Welcome back, my Prince." The knight hesitated but then bowed formally to greet Jon.
  
  "I'm very glad to be back and to see you all." Jon smile dimmed a little. He didn't move from his spot trying to wrap his mind around what was off.
  
  He answered Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan's stiff bows with a nod and a friendly smile, but couldn't help noticing the quick glance they threw in Ser Gerold's direction. He studied the men curiously. They all seemed genuinely glad to see him. However, nobody had hugged him or had as much as touched his shoulder. Not really sure how to deal with the unusual situation, his eyes had wandered to the men that were loading crates onto his flagship. "We are all set to leave soon?" He asked a bit hesitant now.
  
  "Tomorrow morning before first light unless you decide otherwise, my Prince. Might I suggest that you go inside and have a bath and a nice warm meal? I can only imagine the hardships you endured beyond the Wall. A clean outfit has been made ready for you." Ser Gerold's speech was more formal than usual.
  
  Jon eyed them suspiciously now. "And you will all stay down here, while I go all the way up there?" He looked pointedly in the direction of the castle with its long winding stairway that was a long way from where he was standing.
  
  Ser Oswell looked at Ser Gerold hesitantly and explained. "Sandor Clegane wrote that we should order you to fly up to the Castle. His scroll mentioned that you were too darn weak to climb all those fucking stairs with a nasty cut on your thigh, my Prince."
  
  "Sandor wrote that? He has never been to Dragonstone." Jon was almost sure now that he had landed in some strange dream where everything was upside down. His Kingsguards were behaving strangely.
  
  "Apparently he wrote this because Jaime Lannister wouldn't stop nagging him until he did, my Prince." Ser Barristan added stiffly.
  
  "Then I guess I will heed their advice." Jon looked a little lost. He hesitated but then decided to assess Dany's, Sam's and Davos' behaviour before drawing any conclusions.
  
  He turned around and limped toward the place that Rhaegal had landed. The green dragon sensed his needs and lowered his wing without further ado. At least one living being still had some affection for him. When they were in the air he could see the knights arguing below him. It looked like it was three against one. Ser Gerold was gesturing heavily toward the three Kingsguards who formed a united front clearly not happy with what their Lord Commander was telling them.
  
  Rhaegal's large form had some trouble landing close to the gates without damaging the centuries old stone walls. After a bit of manoeuvring they succeeded and Rhaegal flew off as Jon stepped up to the gate bearing the large sigil of the three headed dragon of House Targaryen.
  
  The large gate slowly opened and the guards stood to attention when Jon passed them trying not to limp too much. Dany flew into his arms as soon as he stepped inside the hall. Jon embraced her, immensely relieved that some things were still the same. He kissed her and then quickly released her again, conscious of the crowd in the hall that had all stopped what they were doing. Davos quickly came forward and gave Jon a hug.
  
  "Glad to have you back, son. Let me look at you." He released Jon and took a step back, his keen eyes taking everything in.
  
  Jon knew Davos would have recognised the effort he had put in in to disguise the worst of his limp. Hells, the man probably had noticed the hesitant way he had looked at them before Dany's greeting had lessened his worries substantially. Davos eyes' wandered from the tired lines in the young man's face to his thigh where the heavy bandages were straining his breeches.
  
  "Better come with me, son. We will let the Maester see to your thigh. The servants started to draw you a hot bath as soon as our lookouts informed us your dragons had been spotted. We put the tub in a room on the ground level. No need to climb all these stairs to your usual quarters. Just follow me, please."
  
  Jon looked at Dany, an apology visible in his eyes.
  
  "It's alright, Aegon. I'll see you after." She pressed his hand and gave him a light peck on his cheek.
  
  Jon limped after Davos to a room he had never entered before. The first thing he saw besides the large steaming tub was a beautiful outfit that had meticulously been laid out for him on a wooden bench. Pristine looking shiny boats stood on the ground beneath it.
  
  "Davos, what is going on here?" Jon asked, glad that his Hand had installed himself on a small stool in the corner. At least Davos hadn't left him at the first opportunity. His leisurely pose indicated that he planned to keep Jon company while he bathed.
  
  Davos studied the large bandage covering his leg when Jon pulled down his breeches. "Sandor wrote that you had a nasty cut. We don't want it to get infected. The Maester will be here shortly."
  
  "Don't underestimate the healers of the Free Folk." Jon admonished him lightly. "When it comes to sewing wounds, they are as competent as any learned Maester."
  
  "Hmm. The bandage looks clean enough." Davos conceded.
  
  "Davos, is there something I should know about my Kingsguards?" Jon reformulated his earlier question. He had his back to his Hand now so he could lean on the table while he finished undressing.
  
  "Whatever do you mean, son?" Davos answered innocently but Jon could see a shadow appear in the man's eyes when he peeked over his shoulder to check out the older man's reaction. Davos knew something. He was sure of it.
  
  "You are my Hand, are you not?" Jon's patience was waning.
  
  He hissed when he stepped into the warm water. "This is something I missed north of the Wall." He sighed contently and emerged himself completely. Even his head disappeared beneath the surface to rinse his hair.
  
  "I am still your Hand last I checked. The only one who can dismiss me is you, I guess." Davos answered as soon as Jon's head had emerged again.
  
  Jon used both hands to brush his wet locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears. "Then you owe your allegiance to me first and not to Ser Gerold. What is going on with the Lord Commander? Has he disrespected or mistreated any of my Kingsguards?"
  
  "Not that I am aware of. He is just following your instructions, I presume." Davos looked puzzled now.
  
  "Then you presume wrong. Ser Oswell has been acting shy towards me lately. I had noticed before but hadn't given it much thought. But just now on the docks, they were all behaving out of character."
  
  "Strange how, Jon?" Davos' tone sounded slightly admonishing. "Strange as in being a bit less forward and acting more like the Kingsguards of a True King should?"
  
  Jon turned his face abruptly towards Davos. "Is that what is going on here? Do you really believe I ordered them to be more circumspect and to treat me like a stuck up royal? They kept several feet away from me, Davos. Not a single hug, nor a handshake, not even a friendly pat on my shoulder. I felt like... They all treated me like I had some contagious disease."
  
  "Then you deny that you had a talk about the new structure of the Royal Guard with Ser Gerold? Three divisions, ring a bell?" Davos probed him gently.
  
  "I did. But I also mentioned that the three of them would always have a double role, being loyal advisors and ambassadors to me as well. Ser Barristan, I had hoped would accept a position as leader of the Dragonguard so he could keep protecting Dany and hire as many guards a she deemed fit to make his task lighter."
  
  "Then I think there is some sort of misunderstanding between you and Ser Gerold. Add to that the fact that you are practically King, I reckon Ser Gerold has insisted on a stiffer protocol."
  
  "I didn't like it one bit. I return from a war unlike any I have ever heard of. I have faced a scary mystical enemy and was nearly killed several times over. Only to come here and not even get a hug from men I consider as close as kin. Men who have been with me and cared for me before I was even born!" Jon's emotions had risen with each word he had uttered. He deflated and looked dejectedly at Davos Seaworth.
  
  "Ser Arthur, he was one of my dearest friends and he just, he just stood there."
  
  "He still is your friend. Come now, son. Like I said, this is all a big misunderstanding. Might I ask about those several instances you nearly lost your life, or should I let it rest for a bit?"
  
  "Not you too, Davos." Jon complained.
  
  "Jon?" Davos for once didn't understand what Jon was getting at.
  
  "Don't become all deferential and scared to displease me. Not you too. Just ask if you want to know something." Jon explained.
  
  A knock on the door prevented Davos from responding.
  
  "Is now a convenient time to look at the Prince's wound?" Maester Pylos entered hesitantly.
  
  "Thank you Maester, enter please. I will be ready in a moment." Jon stood and clumsily climbed out of the bathtub."
  
  "Normally I would not advise to weaken a fresh wound by soaking it too long in hot water, my Prince." The Maester remarked in a deferential tone.
  
  "Normally?" Jon snapped losing his patience. "And advising me against doing something is not normal?"
  
  "Forgive our Prince," Davos tried to defuse the situation. "He has had some disappointing encounters since arriving home."
  
  Jon calmed down when he saw the effect his outburst had on the young Maester. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Maester Pylos. Please treat me as you would any other patient."
  
  "Then I would strongly advise my patient that he leans his wounded leg over the bathtub next time he intends to enjoy the comfort of a warm bath, my Prince, and that he do so at the very least for the next sennight or so." The young Maester had regained his composure quickly.
  
  Jon studied the man he had not given a real chance the previous times he had resided on the island. He had been favouring Sam's advice and services above the Maester's. Also they had wanted to keep his birthright a secret from him until they knew him better. Sam however vouched for the Maester and tomorrow everything would be out in the open anyway.
  
  "Thank you, Maester Pylos. That is an acceptable compromise. I will keep my thigh mostly out of the water next time I bathe." He had dried himself off and quickly put on some smallclothes. He sat down on the only seat left in the room and stretched his injured leg.
  
  "Now tell me, Maester Pylos, how do you rate the treatment I received north of the Wall. And please hold nothing back. I want your honest opinion."
  
  Maester Pylos knelt next to Jon's thigh and dabbed at the wound with a dry cloth. Then he studied the sutures. "Excellent work, my Prince. I couldn't have done it better myself. Eastwatch must have a really experienced Maester. I seldom saw such even stitches and healthy looking wound after such a nasty cut. You will have a scar on your leg but it won't be an ugly one."
  
  "No Maester sutured this wound, Maester Pylos. A healer of the Free Folk, you know them as Wildlings, treated it. He scolded me for not coming sooner, never mind me being a Prince. And if we talk experience, I reckon he has had a lot of opportunity to practice sewing wounds north of the Wall. The Free Folk have a rough life beyond the Wall and injuries in need of sewing occur rather often over there."
  
  "I am rather surprised to hear that a simple healer without training at the Citadel is capable of such a feat but the evidence is here right in front of me. Perhaps one day, you will tell me more about these people?" While he spoke, the Maester was rummaging in the bag he brought with him and took out a small jar.
  
  "If I ever spend enough time on Dragonstone, I will certainly oblige you. If not, ask Sam Tarly. I told him plenty about them already." Jon answered, studying every action of the Maester with interest.
  
  Jon turned to his Hand. "Davos, where is Sam?"
  
  "In the library probably with his nose deep in some book or scroll. Nobody will have told him of your arrival yet. I'll fetch him so you won't have to travel the stairs."
  
  "Maester Pylos?" Jon switched his attention back to the Maester. "Can you tell me if the cut is still in danger of reopening? Should I really avoid stairs and limit my movements so drastically?"
  
  "That depends," the Maester was still sat on his knees next to Jon's thigh and looked up at the Targaryen Prince. "If you want to heal fast and be able to resume your training soon, I would caution you and advise you to rest a few days longer. A wound like this is always in danger of reopening the first sennight, more so after the tissue has been weakened by soaking in hot water."
  
  "Thank you, Maester. So if I am a good boy and do as I am told, when can I resume training?" Jon was starting to like this Maester.
  
  "Light training next sennight. I trust you are wise enough to listen to your body and not to overextend yourself. You will be best placed to feel when you need to stop. Don't bend your leg too far when you feel the wound is resisting the stretch. If you can keep the cut from reopening you will be as good as new in a fortnight. On the other hand, if you overdo it and it reopens, you will be right back to where you started the day you got wounded."
  
  "These are clear directives, Maester Pylos. I will do my utmost to let it heal then." Jon gave the Maester a nod of approval.
  
  "Thank you, my Prince. Now let me rub this substance carefully in the wound to prevent it from getting inflamed. I would prefer to delay for a bit before covering it with a clean bandage though. Would it be possible to wait a bit longer before you leave this room? I'd prefer it if you did not put on your breeches just yet. It is preferable to give the wound a chance to dry out first. It won't take that long and will speed up the healing process."
  
  "The room next door has been transformed into temporary quarters for you, my Prince. It contains a bed, a desk and a few chairs." Davos' suggestion was clear.
  
  "Then meet me there after the appropriate time has passed, Maester Pylos. I am grateful for your excellent care." Jon showed his appreciation with an honest open smile.
  
  "I am at your service, my Prince. I'll pass by the library and let Lord Tarly know where to find you." The Maester bowed and left the room.
  
  Davos studied Jon. "Now put these clothes on, son. I know they are not what you are accustomed to but I fear you will need to get used to dressing the part."
  
  Not long after, Jon was installed in a cosy chair in the makeshift bedchamber his injured leg resting on a stool. To get there, he had leaned on Davos' shoulder careful not to strain his leg. The promise of a light training session in a mere sennight had been enough inducement to take it easy for now.
  
  "Now Davos, tell me the particulars. Your message has made me very curious."
  
  "Sam, come on in." Jon answered the tentative knock on the door of his temporary quarters.
  
  He sat on the bed his legs stretched out before him. He had a thick scroll in one hand and his free arm tugged around Dany who was helping him sort out all the scrolls that had arrived at Dragonstone while he was in the North. His thigh had been bandaged and he was wearing his breeches. Davos had prevented the Princess from entering until Jon had been 'suitably attired' as he had called it. She had been obliged to wait in the hallway while the Maester had been fetched to wrap his thigh in clean bandages.
  
  All ill will Jon might have felt for Davos had quickly dissipated when his Hand had left the two of them alone despite just having handed him a bundle of messages to read through together. He had left the door slightly ajar, teasingly warning Jon and the Princess to behave.
  
  "I didn't mean to disturb you two." Sam blushed.
  
  Jon easily understood his friend's embarrassment. Dany was still slightly out of breath. Her cheeks and lips were very red and her hair was not as neat as it had been when she had entered the room. He tried to act normal and gave Dany a light peck on her cheek.
  
  "You're not really disturbing us, Sam. We managed to get some private time in already. Dany was just saying she needed to leave soon to confer with the cook about supper and change her dress. I expect Davos to come back anytime now anyway.
  
  Dany blushed becomingly. He gave her a quick closemouthed kiss and then playfully pushed her off the bed. "We'll see each other at supper and after as well." Jon promised her.
  
  Dany smiled and blew him a kiss from the doorway. "See you Sam, Aegon." She slipped past Sam and disappeared in the hallway closing the door behind her.
  
  "Interesting room." Sam looked around from where he stood still close to the doorway. "I thought this was a storage room."
  
  "Well it is my bedroom now, at least for as long as I am forbidden to climb the stairs. Just sit on the bed with me here. I am in need of a hug from my friend."
  
  Sam didn't let him ask twice. He smothered Jon within an inch of his life. "I'm glad you are well, Jon. Davos told me you briefly mentioned you had a hard time beyond the Wall?"
  
  Jon rearranged the messages on the bed so there was room for Sam to join him. "I will have nightmares for years to come. But I also made friends for life." He finally answered Sam's question. "But let's discuss that some other time. How are things here?" Jon looked at his friend who looked fitter than ever before.
  
  "Things are good, I guess. I never had as much time for reading and writing as I have had here. And I am getting better with my sword. Ser Arthur says I am finally getting a grasp on things."
  
  "I'm glad to hear that. Are you coming along tomorrow? Ser Gerold still has to brief me on the particulars." Jon's tone had changed slightly when he mentioned Ser Gerold's name.
  
  Sam studied him thoughtfully. "I am. They think I will look harmless enough. I thought you would be more excited, Jon?"
  
  "I am, Sam. I can't fathom the moment is finally there. It still seems like I will wake up and it is all a dream."
  
  "Then you better read the message from Lord Stark again." Sam looked at the stash of messages on the bed.
  
  "I was just reading the first part and then Dany entered and we, well we uh," Jon looked a bit embarrassed and opted not to finish that sentence. "Davos told me the gist of what it contained already. It is a truly unexpected turn of events."
  
  "Well, you better read it in its entirety first. Dany must be flattered that you interrupted reading one of the most important scrolls in your entire life and I mean your entire life including your future, just to give her a kiss or something." Now both men avoided each other's gaze.
  
  Sam tapped the scroll in question and stayed silent while Jon read its entire content. Not long after, Jon put the scroll down and looked at Sam who had been studying his reactions the entire time.
  
  "You were right. I had to read it myself. Hearing Davos summarize the content isn't the same as reading it. It is hard to fathom. All these various outcomes we have been preparing for, this one was not even on the list."
  
  "You will believe it tomorrow when you see it play out with your own eyes." Sam smiled.
  
  "And hopefully I will be able to hear it with my own ears as well." Jon's expression sobered a little.
  
  Again neither of them spoke for a while. Jon figured they were both contemplating the events that would transpire the next day. Then Jon's gaze fell on the locked door. He turned his head and looked at Sam, a serious expression on his face.
  
  "Sam, when you came in just now, was there a guard stationed at my door?"
  
  His question surprised Sam. His friend turned to look at the door as well. "Of course, two actually, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell."
  
  "And how did they behave?"
  
  Sam looked really puzzled now. "What do you mean? They behaved as they always do. They greeted me cordially and let me enter."
  
  Jon got up from the bed and hobbled to the door. "Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, would you step inside for a moment please?"
  
  Both knights complied immediately.
  
  "Please shut the door." Jon requested. "I want to talk to you both."
  
  "My Prince," Ser Arthur turned to Jon the moment the door fell shut. "We're so relieved, grateful and happy that you returned safe and sound."
  
  "Are you?" Jon looked dubious. "You could have fooled me earlier out there on the docks".
  
  "Dammit." Ser Arthur exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you we hurt his feelings?" He exchanged a meaningful glance with Ser Oswell before he took two steps and enclosed Jon in an embrace that lasted for some time.
  
  "We were so worried. A host of fifty thousand strong." Ser Arthur mumbled against Jon's hair. "I'm so glad your back, Jon. Never doubt that we love you."
  
  "Ser Oswell?" Jon looked at the other knight, his eyes moist. Ser Arthur released Jon and pushed him gently in Ser Oswell's direction who embraced him as well.
  
  "My Prince, how could you doubt our loyalty and affection? You must understand. We were in public on the docks. Anyone could have witnessed our greeting. We are first and foremost your Kingsguards."
  
  "Anyone on the docks?" Jon repeated incredulously when Ser Oswell had released him. "Anyone on the docks is a Targaryen supporter and has probably shared a meal with me sitting unceremoniously on the sand near a bonfire. Are you kidding me?"
  
  "My Prince,... Jon," Ser Arthur tried to take his hand to calm him down but Jon put it behind his back.
  
  He looked accusingly at his two loyal guards. "You can't begin to imagine how I felt. I barely manage to come back alive from a massive battle and you, you two who helped me blow my nose when I was a toddler, you stand there and execute a formal bow because we are on the docks of our very own private island?"
  
  "Jon, breathe." Sam rubbed his back. "Come on, Jon. Don't you see they were under orders? Ser Gerold briefed us all on how to behave in public from now on. You are Prince Aegon Targaryen and tomorrow the official King of the Seven Kingdoms. There is a protocol to respect. Even you with all your liberal thinking can't escape that."
  
  "Ser Gerold briefed all of you? Dany as well? What does she need to do? Prostrate herself at my feet?" Jon shook his head. "I don't believe this. I really don't believe this."
  
  "Jon," Ser Arthur looked at him willing him to understand. "We are still the same, you, me, Ser Oswell, all of us. We are still the same people and you can trust us and treat us as you wish here in your chambers, away from prying eyes. But in public, and certainly in the Red Keep when you hold court, things will have to be different."
  
  "I know that. Of course I understand that. In the Red Keep, once I am King. But not now, not here today, not earlier when I just returned from a terrifying battle and was so happy to be safely back home, with my friends, safe on Dragonstone that is firmly in Targaryen hands again. I am still the Prince of Dragonstone, just the same as I was when I left. It is not tomorrow yet nor are we in the Red Keep."
  
  Ser Arthur put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "You will always be our Prince, our King, our Jon. We'll need to confer with Ser Gerold again. Perhaps we can define public and private a little bit better."
  
  "I hope so. If not, I do not know if I can keep you on as Kingsguard, Ser Arthur. I might ask you to become my second Hand or something."
  
  "Even your Hand will have to adhere to protocol." Sam cautioned him. "Davos won't embrace you in public nor will he be allowed to contradict anything you say in the presence of others. And you better make him a Lord at the first opportunity. Otherwise he will have trouble exercising his authority when he deals with stuck up nobles."
  
  Jon sighed. "Perhaps I should just forget about this King of all Westeros business. I will take Dany and move to my Grandmother at the Driftmark. Farm the land, earn an honest living," he muttered as if to himself.
  
  "Don't talk nonsense, Jon." Sam once again was the voice of reason. "Dany will probably be waiting for you in the Throne Room where we will partake our meal. I believe she invited many guests to celebrate your return. Leave these messages for later. You read the singular most important one anyway. Go and enjoy the feast the Princess has organised for your homecoming. This might be your last supper on Dragonstone for some time."
  
  Approximately a sennight earlier in the Red Keep.
  
  "How is Robert Baratheon?" Prince Oberyn asked Varys.
  
  "Good day to you too, Prince Oberyn." Varys responded and seated himself on a modest chair in the small backroom of Tobho Mott's workshop.
  
  "I bid you welcome, my dear Master of Whispers," Oberyn made an exaggerated bow and sat back down. "Now tell me, how is Robert Baratheon doing?"
  
  "He needs bedrest but will recover. Our flawless plan to have Maester Pycelle indisposed backfired. We should have let the incompetent fool treat him. Instead Thoros of Myr sought the help of a capable healer and together they did a damn fine job of patching the King up. For the moment it looks like his nasty abdominal wound will not be fatal. That is as long as the stitches hold and no body waste can leak out and infect him from the inside. I am verbally recounting what the healer explained to me. I am not a Maester."
  
  "That's too bad. When I heard of the extent of his injuries, I surely thought we had succeeded." Prince Oberyn frowned. A long time ago he had been present during an autopsy at the Citadel and had learned all about the digestive tract and the small and large intestines. When he had been given the news that Robert Baratheon's intestines had been visible, he had been sure that the usurper would soon be dead meat.
  
  "Don't worry. I still have not played all my cards yet." Varys reassured his co-conspirator. "He will recuperate only if he rests, doesn't get drunk and avoids all stress. He is bedridden and totally at our mercy."
  
  "Let me know if you need my assistance. I can procure you anything you wish." Prince Oberyn offered already debating what poison would work best in these circumstances.
  
  "That will not be necessary. I have another plan in mind, a safe one that will never implicate any of us. You know our most important directive. The young Prince must never suspect foul play and to accomplish that, we must make it look as if King Robert is solely responsible for his own demise."
  
  "A stupid drunk King who gets himself accidentally killed during a boar hunt was a genius plan." Prince Oberyn pouted. "And the potion he took wasn't detectable since it was no real potion, only a strong concentration of the substance that makes men drunk. My man told me it was not easy getting the boar to set off in the right direction once the oaf had fallen of his horse."
  
  "I readily concede that it was an excellent plan. But trust me. What I have in mind will make him look even more stupid. History books won't be kind to the Baratheon usurper who leaves no heirs and no legacy to speak of."
  
  "Your Grace, you summoned me?" Varys made a low bow. He had entered the royal bedroom and had positioned himself at the foot of the large bed.
  
  "I did, Lord Varys. Please sit down. We have several things to discuss."
  
  Varys took a seat in one of the cozy chairs that stood next to the bed. He studied the King unobtrusively. His complexion had regained colour and his eyes looked sharp. His medicine had probably worn off. Varys knew he would need a new dosage shortly before his next meal. For now Varys had to remain alert. The King's mind was clear for the moment and the man was no fool if he made an effort.
  
  "First of all, did you find out who sent those archers that twice tried to kill me? I am at the mercy of assassins here, you know." Unlike his improved demeanour, Robert Baratheon's voice sounded awful.
  
  "I think so, your Grace. They had ties to the Stormlands so we now suspect that your brother sent them. I have several little birds trying to find out more over there." Lord Varys lied with a straight face. This tale would have a larger impact on the peace of mind of the Baratheon King than the truth, namely that it had most likely been Doran of House Martell who had sent these men. Now the whoring fool would once more be confronted with the fact that he had no trueborn heirs and that his brother, Prince Stannis had stooped even lower than he already knew.
  
  Prince Oberyn had asked Varys to conceal his suspicions for now, fearing that his position here in King's Landing could be in jeopardy if the King decided to punish Dorne. The Prince had no intention of ending up a hostage of the usurper King to keep his brother in line. The Master of Whispers had only been too willing to help out.
  
  Varys realised all too well that his co-conspirator needed his freedom to deal with his deranged brother. Prince Doran's attempt to marry Arianne to the Baratheon he could understand. Murdering the current King without a proper plan in place was sheer madness. It would play into the hands of all the other Kingdoms who were vying for the throne. Dorne would not be the only one to benefit but they would be the only Kingdom running the risk of being exposed as traitors to the Crown.
  
  You could only murder the Baratheon King and get away with it if your plan to take the throne was totally ready and could be executed mere days after Baratheon's demise, kind of like their own plan. Hopefully Prince Oberyn's daughter, Nymeria had successfully laid the foundation for her father's scheme. If so, then soon the ruling Prince of Dorne would be utterly powerless. Robert Baratheon's hoarse voice brought Varys' attention back to the present.
  
  "Thank you Lord Varys. No need to investigate further. My brother's life is forfeit. He already committed enough other crimes to justify his execution. Let's concentrate on the second reason for which I summoned you here." Robert Baratheon needed to stop talking due to a coughing fit.
  
  Lord Varys handed him the cup of water that stood on a nearby table.
  
  "My stomach hurts when I cough." Robert Baratheon whined after he had taken a few sips. "The Gods are really cruel to me. Lately I wonder what I have done for them to punish me so. " Robert sighed and leaned back against the furs.
  
  'Condoning the killing of innocent children because they bear the name of House Targaryen.' The bitter thought flitted through Varys' mind. Back then, they had all been so happy when Princess Elia had given birth to a little prince.
  
  "You were saying, your Grace?" Varys was a master at disguising his thoughts. Nobody following this conversation and witnessing his respectful, subservient behaviour would suspect the dark thoughts and schemes that crossed the mind of the Master of Whispers when he looked down at the King he pretended to serve.
  
  "More rumours reached my ears and I would like to discuss them with you." Robert Baratheon's voice sounded a bit better. The King's intonation betrayed that he didn't like what he had picked up.
  
  "Of course, your Grace. Just tell me how I can be of service to you." Varys had a very good notion of these rumours. He had spared no efforts for the fool to get wind of them even if the King had been sequestered to a bedroom for days now.
  
  "Can you move a bit closer? I do not wish to speak too loud. You never know who is listening in. I can't trust anyone in this cursed place."
  
  Varys arranged his chair closer to the bed and leaned forward. His voice was hardly more than a whisper when he spoke next. "You know you can trust me, your Grace."
  
  Baratheon nodded. "The rumours have started again, rumours about the Dragonrider and how my own Hand is implicated." The King complained. He waved with his hand to stop the Master of Whispers from responding.
  
  "I know you told me not to doubt him before we had proof. You advised me to speak honestly and give him the benefit of the doubt and I did. At first I believed him but you see, he has returned to his former behaviour. He doesn't look me in the eye and looks guilty more often than not. And it is not about the subject of my prospective bride that Ned acts skittish, it has to do with the dragonrider. I am not a fool, Varys. He knows something. I am starting to believe the rumours. It might be true that the dragonrider is his kin after all."
  
  "I'm afraid you might be on the right track, your Grace. I have gathered reports from several eye witnesses who claim to have seen the dragonrider with their own eyes. They all tell the same story. He looks like a Stark. One man claims he knew Eddard Stark when he was young and swears the dragonrider is his spitting image. His exact words were and I quote The Dragonrider is more of a Stark than Lord Robb."
  
  "Have you learned more about the rumours of Robb Stark's supposed kidnapping?"
  
  "That really happened. Robb Stark was indeed abducted by the Boltons and held prisoner at the Dreadfort. Loyal bannerman laid siege to the castle. It is confirmed now that it truly was the Dragonrider that came to his rescue and freed the heir of House Stark with the assistance of several northern Lords. I have eye witnesses who claimed they were present when in the aftermath of the rescue the Lords of the North feasted in the Great Hall of the Dreadfort and shared meat and mead with the Dragonrider. They were heard toasting to his health."
  
  "Dammit, Ned. This is proof indeed. Now my Hand can't deny that the dragonrider is an ally of the North." Robert Baratheon closed his eyes for a moment.
  
  "It gets worse, your Grace." Varys whispered leaning a tiny bit closer to the man on the bed and waited for him to open his eyes again.
  
  "Worse, how can it possibly get any worse? You just confirmed that my Hand is a traitor to the Crown." Robert Baratheon had opened his eyes again. The famed Baratheon blue eyes had lost all of their charm for the moment, expressing only utter despair at being surrounded by traitors from all sides.
  
  "It seems that the North and the Iron Islands are allies. The Dragonrider and the Golden Company helped Yara Greyjoy regain control of her father's seat. The Dragonrider might very well be the leader of the Golden Company. Although I must confess this conclusion might be a bit hasty since that rumour has not been confirmed yet."
  
  What are you planning, Ned?" Robert Baratheon exclaimed his face growing warmer from anger and frustration. "Do you think he wants to betray me? Steel my throne now that I am lying here helplessly?" His eyes looked up to Varys as if the man was his only anchor.
  
  It was very rewarding for Varys to see how much faith Robert Baratheon still had in him. He was not only a Master of Whispers, but also a master at deception, at scheming and at conspiring against the Crown. If not for him, his dear Targaryen Prince's head would have rotted away mounted on one of the spikes that adorned the walls of the Red Keep a long time ago. It was time to manipulate the fool some more and win valuable time.
  
  "Lord Stark still adheres to a certain code of honour, your Grace. He would never hurt a man that is defenseless. Besides, the dragonrider has been spotted beyond the Wall again. He is no threat to your rule anytime soon. They say he lives amongst the Wildlings. Let me investigate some more and find irrefutable proof of your Hand's implication first. We still do not know his exact relationship to the Dragonrider."
  
  Varys' keen eyes noticed that he had Baratheon hooked and in a manner of speaking, he used his last cyvasse piece that could cause chaos. Prince Oberyn had been the one to persuade him to use that argument again if circumstance called for it.
  
  "I sincerely doubt that Lord Stark could steal the throne from a wounded man. And certainly not for himself, the man has too little ambition. My honour compels me to point out that there still is a sliver of doubt whether Lord Stark is in on all this. For all we know the Dragonrider might be a byblow of Brandon Stark, a bastard that threatens to take Winterfell away from the Starks and therefore is an enemy of your Lord Hand. It is not totally impossible that the Lords of the North are scheming with the Dragonrider to remove Ned Stark from power. Many men still resent the fact that he married a Southerner."
  
  "Dammit, Varys! Can't you for once do your job and come with answers instead of more doubts and questions. Now you have me believe Ned is a victim of this Dragonrider." Robert Baratheon exasperated protest ended in a coughing fit.
  
  Once more Varys handed him the cup of water and helped him drink a few sips. "Your Grace, please do not get all worked up. Think of what the healer said. Another sennight of bedrest and you will have recovered fully. You have been very lucky, your Grace. And I can see your health has improved very much already. Don't do something stupid now that you are getting better."
  
  "Only a few more days, the healer promised. I really want to leave this bed. I am indeed feeling a lot better. The healer is overly cautious. And I am so much looking forward to the tournament. I don't want to miss it." The King sounded like a petulant child now.
  
  "The tournament has been pushed back until your Grace is sufficiently recovered. The pre-tournament is taking place as we speak. The main event will start as soon as it pleases your Grace."
  
  "Lord Royce is still in the capital?" Robert Baratheon asked.
  
  "Of course, your Grace. He has not left the Red Keep and enquires after your health several times a day. He feels utterly guilty for what happened during the hunt."
  
  "Nonsense. I enjoyed his company that day, just as I did the previous times. He is not to blame. I told him so already. He was checking out some tracks a stag left behind when that cursed boar came out of nowhere. Summon him to my quarters this afternoon. I will engage him in a game of cyvasse. If he really feels that guilty, he can let me win some golden stags off of him."
  
  A bit later Varys left the King's room satisfied with the effect of his words. Now he just needed to find the King's young paramour and send her to his room tomorrow night. He would make sure she wore a seductive outfit and carried a large pitcher of wine.
  
  Two days later
  
  Ned knelt beside the bed of his friend. Whatever had happened over the years, the Robert that lay in this stately bed was still the person who had once been the very best friend he had ever had. His relationship with Robert Baratheon had at one point been much closer than the bond he had had with his own siblings. Later on, his relationship with Benjen had improved not only because Benjen had grown up by then but also because of their mutual care for their only nephew. But still he had never lived so closely together with Benjen as he had with Robert.
  
  Robert and he had shared a bedchamber often even though they each had been allotted their own quarters. They had been inseparable when they were both fostered at the Vale, sharing lessons, training sessions, playtime and nightly talks for years. Reaching adulthood, they had fought battles side by side and their bond had still deepened until that fateful day when Ned had been confronted with a gleeful Robert boasting about the death of the Targaryen children and their mother.
  
  "What have you done to yourself, Robert?" Ned's voice shook with unshed tears when he uttered the words.
  
  "Stupid." Robert uttered. "Just been utterly stupid. Did not to listen to the healer's advice."
  
  "When have you ever? How long do you still have?" Ned asked his voice barely more than a whisper.
  
  "A sennight, ten days at best before my body poisons itself and I will beg for milk of the poppy to be put to sleep, never to wake up again." Robert sighed. "It was my own doing, Ned." He coughed. "You remember how I always told you I wanted to die?"
  
  "I remember. Shooting a boar and fucking a woman afterward, there's no better way to leave this world" Ned tried to keep his voice light. "You forgot one detail though. You were supposed to be old and grey when you did that."
  
  "Well, fate has decided otherwise."
  
  Both men gazed at each other. Ned wondered why Robert had taken such a risk with his life. Things had been a rollercoaster lately. Ever since Littlefinger's trial, they had been growing closer together. Just when he thought Robert trusted him completely, Ned's conscience began to trouble him again, certainly when his former friend showed signs of becoming a competent King. But then the situation had changed again, this time for the worse. For some unknown reason, Robert had started to suspect him once more and had slowly reverted back to drinking and whoring.
  
  The stupid fool had even drunk himself into a stupor in the midst of a boar hunt and according to Yohn Royce had been so out of it that he had fallen of his horse and had been an easy prey for the wild animal that had happened upon him. Robert had been brought back to the Keep on a stretcher, sporting a nasty abdominal wound. Apparently the boar's protruding canine teeth had made a large tear in his stomach.
  
  The healer had done all he could to clean and close the wound. The King had been lucky but had needed to keep to his bed and had not been allowed to sit upright. He had been warned several times. Should the wound reopen, it could tear things under his skin as well. When that happened, his body would poison itself from the inside out and his chances at survival would become non-existent.
  
  And just when the entire keep had been apprised that the King would recover, Robert had pulled another stupid stunt. Yesterday evening he had drunk an entire pitcher or wine and had bedded his paramour. Against all advice he had let her mount him and fuck him into oblivion. In the middle of the act, just when he was about to reach his peak, he had suffered a kind of fit. A large part of the castle had been alerted when the young girl had panicked and ran across the hallways scarcely clothed and desperately screaming for help.
  
  According to the healer that had been summoned once more when Grand Maester Pycelle had been found abed with a fever, the King's body had suffered a shock of some kind. They had been able to stop the seizures that racked his body by forcefully pouring milk of the poppy down his throat. Ever since, he had lost some of the function in his left arm and leg and sometimes his speech became slightly impaired. The healer had reluctantly told them that the sutures had ruptured and that body waste was slowly seeping into his abdomen. His Grace would not recover. He would not live to see the next fortnight, perhaps not even the next sennight. For now the healer had been sworn to secrecy. Only Varys, Ned and the King himself had been informed.
  
  Ned had tried to locate the girl to find out what had really happened. Perhaps Robert had told her something that would help them understand why he had acted so recklessly. But she was nowhere to be found. That poor girl probably thought she might get arrested for putting the King in harm's way. Since she hadn't been discovered yet, Ned was sure that they would never see the girl again. She could well be on her way to Essos by now
  
  "Why, Robert? Why did you do this? Why risk your health in such a stupid way?" Ned asked. He had pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, holding Robert's limp left hand in his. They were alone in the room. Ned had dismissed all the servants. A Stark guard at the other side of the door would see to it that Ned could pay his respects to his dying King unhindered.
  
  Robert looked at his friend. His blue Baratheon eyes betrayed how much pain he was in. "I am not long for this world Ned. I am in your con- control now. You can keep me a virtual prisoner. You can-can prevent me from speaking to anyone, from denouncing you for the traitor that you are. I want to hear the truth from your mouth. What happens after I am dead?"
  
  "Robert?" Ned had paled visibly.
  
  "No more evading, Ned. I was told with absolute certainty that you are a traitor and have someone up in the No-north ready to usurp my throne. Who will sit the Iron Throne once I am dead? The Dragonrider? Or some puppet you trained so you can-can rule by proxy? For the sake of our... friendship, you owe a dying foster-brother at least that. I want the truth."
  
  Ned bowed his head. His mind was frantically trying to come up with the best way to handle this situation.
  
  "Ned, the truth, please?"
  
  Ned lifted his head and his eyes met Robert's pleading stare. He decided to give in. What did it still matter? He leaned a bit closer and whispered, "Lyanna's son, my nephew, Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  Robert closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. "Lyanna had a son? With Rhaegar? That ca-can't be possible."
  
  "You would recognise him the moment you saw him." Ned now looked at his friend, the fond look in his eyes unmistakably visible despite the unshed tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
  
  "He is the spitting image of her, more Stark than Targaryen. His has dark hair, with curls just as her hair would curl when she walked through the rain not caring about her appearance. Remember?"
  
  With a faraway look in his eyes, Robert nodded to Ned. "I do. Tell me more."
  
  "He is intelligent, strong, an excellent swordfighter. He can beat Prince Oberyn, would you believe that? He even beat..." Ned held his breath and looked guilty.
  
  "Just tell me Ned, the time for lies is past." Robert looked resigned and eerily calm.
  
  "He can even beat the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne." Ned looked apprehensively at his friend.
  
  "Those three Ki-Ki-Kingsguards, they live? You knew all this time?" Robert asked when he saw his friend nod affirmatively
  
  "I am sorry, Robert. I did. I encountered them when I searched for my sister in the South after the Rebellion. She did die from a fever as I told you. Only it was child bed fever that she contracted after she gave birth to a son."
  
  "Why didn't you tell me? I would never have harmed Lyanna's son. I loved her." Robert sounded sincere when he said that.
  
  "I didn't know that, Robert. To tell you the truth, I don't believe that. Not at the time, perhaps now, but not at the time. You would have called him a dragonspawn. You would have declared him a product of rape. He was Lyanna's son but he was also a Targaryen Prince. Technically, that small baby boy was the true King of the Seven Kingdoms from the very moment he drew his first breath. My little nephew was a threat to your new reign. With his father and grandfather deceased, he was the only one left to inherit the Iron Throne."
  
  "Still,..." Robert's protest sounded weak.
  
  "Lyanna asked me to protect him, Robert. With her dying breath she asked me to vow that I would protect her son, that I would keep him safe from you. I have honoured her vow, Robert. Everything I have done, every deed you consider treason, I did because I promised Lyanna."
  
  Tears rolled over Robert's cheeks now. "She feared me. She died thinking I would harm her only son. The last thing left alive of her in this world. I would never, I cou-could never..."
  
  "You say that now, Robert and perhaps you mean that now. You wouldn't have then. In any case I couldn't take the risk. I love him, we all love him."
  
  "What happens now, Ned?" Robert had leaned back and was staring at Ned as if seeing him for the first time.
  
  "He takes the throne after you are no longer. He has the support of the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. Lord Tyrion of House Lannister will do as I ask. We hope that Dorne won't pose a problem and the Reach, well the Reach will choose the winning side. Don't they always? He will take your throne, Robert. Stannis might try something but he won't stand a chance. We outnumber him on the ground as well as at sea. And my nephew, he has two dragons, Robert."
  
  "Dragons." The word was spoken half in wonderment half in fear. "I once dreamed that I had a dragon. Aren't you sca-scared of them though?"
  
  "I am not. You should see him with them. They are totally subservient to him. And he is no wild, mad Targaryen, Robert. I told you, he is all Lyanna. Only the fact that she is a female makes it so that he doesn't carry the Stark name. He is more Stark than I am. He carries the values of our house within him. But even if he is at least as honourable as I am, he is more balanced. He will be no puppet of mine. Hells, he will command me. He already has at several instances."
  
  Ned still on his knees before the bed put his hand on top of Robert's. "I know I am often too rigid, and only see right or wrong. My nephew, a young man of more than half my age has already proven himself to be wiser than me. He considers all sides in a conflict and tries to determine his opponent's motives. He understands better than I that they often have the best intention even though they choose the wrong way to go about achieving their goals."
  
  Ned swallowed and looked deep into his friend's blue eyes willing him to understand. "Can you believe he has called me out on some mistakes I made and did it in such a way that I not only had to admit I was wrong but that I apologised wholeheartedly and meant it? I kneel to him willingly and with absolute devotion, Robert. He will be the best ruler the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. If you believe anything I told you here today, believe that."
  
  "I want to see him, Ned. I want to see Lyanna's son with my own eyes at least once before I die." The King put his other hand on top of Ned's to lend extra weight to his request.
  
  "Robert, I do not know..." Ned's voice faltered and he looked away hiding the sudden mistrust that surely had to be visible on his face. He carefully freed his hand and put it back in his lap.
  
  "Grant me this dying wish. I want to look at his face and search for Lyanna in him. I want him to fo-forgive me for what I did to his half-brother and sister." Robert didn't give up so quickly.
  
  "Robert, I will not risk him. Not after all these years of keeping him safe from you." Ned had forced a blank expression on his face and studied the man on the bed, trying to determine his true intentions.
  
  "I will not harm him, Ned. I just want to see him. Draft a document for me right this minute, a royal decree in which I state formally that I abdicate the throne effective immediately in favour of him. You can add the necessary names, titles, you know them better than I do by now."
  
  "It will make no difference. Stannis will claim that you were not in your right mind when you made this decision." Ned protested.
  
  "It will make a difference to Lyanna's son, Ned. If he truly is who you say he is, it will make a substantial di-difference to him. He will know that he did not usurp my throne but that I willingly abdicated in his favour. Think of Lyanna's son, Ned. It will mean the world to him if I cou-could tell it to his face. Give me the opportunity to bless his reign. I will die in peace knowing that Lyanna's son sits upon my throne without guilt or remorse. It is my dying wish, Ned. Grant me my dying wish."
  
  "Even if he agreed to come here, I am not sure that he would be able to get here in time. He is in the north, beyond the Wall." Ned stalled for time.
  
  "He has dragons, Ned. I am sure he can get to King's Landing in no time. I am not dead yet. Write the damned do-document. I'll sign it and then you summon him." Even though Robert's voice was weak, Ned could hear the determination and kingly authority in it.
  
  "All right. Let's do this." Ned got up from the chair and slowly walked to the door to ask the Stark houseguard to fetch some writing materials. Perhaps Robert was right. It would be the best outcome for Jon's peace of mind.
  
  A day later
  
  "The King asked to see me right away?" the Hand of the King repeated the message Cassel just brought him.
  
  "He did, Lord Stark. He was most insistent. He ordered the servant who brought him his lunch to fetch you this very instant."
  
  "And nobody has been allowed entrance? You are sure he has not received any visitors."
  
  "Not since your last interview with him yesterday. Only his manservant and he can be trusted as you know full well, my Lord."
  
  Ned sighed. "This could not be good news. Perhaps Robert had second thoughts. Yesterday he had been emotional and had thought of nothing but Lyanna's kinship with the young Targaryen. But now that he had been able to look at the situation from all angles, he could very well be appalled that his own Hand had been plotting his downfall for the entire duration of his reign.
  
  He rose from his seat with an uneasy feeling. "Then I better attend to his Grace."
  
  His heart beat loudly in his chest when he entered the sickroom. Robert immediately looked up and Ned could read nothing from the serious look in the King's sunken eyes. Robert didn't look healthy. His face was ashen, his brow was sweaty, dark locks were clinging to his forehead and his eyes were dulled with pain.
  
  "Come sit, Ned. We need to talk. I have many questions." His hand motioned to the chair that stood closest to his bedside.
  
  Robert's calm tone and demeanour put Ned at ease somewhat. Still he did not fool himself. This conversation would not be an easy one.
  
  "I am sure you have, Robert. What do you want to know?"
  
  Robert didn't beat about the bush and came straight to the point. "Why did you agree to let me take the throne in the first pluh-place?"
  
  Ned let out a breath. This was an easy question. "You won the battles and had the greater claim because of your Targaryen ancestor. I never wanted the throne for myself. You knew that to be true then and it is still true now. I didn't know about Lyanna's pregnancy back then, Robert. I found her approximately a moon after I left you on the Iron Throne at King's Landing."
  
  "And then cu-cursed your stupidity for swearing allegiance to me." Robert sounded bitter.
  
  "It wasn't like that, Robert. If you know me even a little bit, you can easily imagine that I have struggled with this tangled situation for years. You probably won't believe me after all that has happened lately, but when I held that baby boy in my arms for the very first time, I felt such a fierce love for him and such an urge to protect him from all the war and hardships his legacy was sure to bestow on him if his existence was revealed to the realm. My first intention was to bring him home to Winterfell and tell my new bride I had a byblow. I was willing to forsake my honour, hurt my new bride and tell everybody that I sired a bastard during the rebellion. I wanted to raise him as my son, keep him in my sight and protect him with anonymity. I so much wanted to cling to the unrealistic hope that I would never have to reveal his true identity."
  
  "But you didn't, Ned. You didn't." Robert stressed the obvious.
  
  "His Kingsguards would never have let me raise their King as a bastard. We debated long and hard and eventually I saw reason. He was a King the moment he took his first breath. A bastard, even a bastard of a noble Lord would lead a harsh life. My wife would surely hate him. Even now she struggles with the fact that my nephew is more important than Robb, our firstborn."
  
  Ned looked deep in the blue Baratheon eyes. "You must believe me, Robert. I never wanted any of this to happen."
  
  Robert studied him for a moment a frown on his face. Then it disappeared. "Even though it is a tale that is rather hard to swallow, the honourable Ned would not lie about this. I believe you, Ned. Now tell me more. Where did he live if not at Winterfell? I want to hear all about the boy who is to take my throne away from me."
  
  Ned adjusted his position so he sat in a more relaxed manner and told Robert all about his nephew's development from a small baby to an honourable man and renowned swordsmen who commands a direwolf as well as two dragons."
  
  It was much later when Ned fell silent. But this time it was a comfortable silence. Robert had mostly listened quietly only interrupting a few times to press for more details. The more amusing interruption had been when Ned had described to him how easily a young Prince Aegon had charmed Prince Oberyn.
  
  "The Red Viper swore allegiance to him, you say? Tell me again how Lyanna's son charmed him, Ned. And please more details. That is the best part of this entire business until now."
  
  Prince Oberyn had been waiting at the docks for their ship to arrive. Before anyone could assist him, the Dornish Prince had jumped on board and greeted everyone with a big smile. "Isn't this a great day?"
  
  Ser Gerold led the Prince toward a larger cabin and there they discussed how they would proceed from here. Prince Oberyn reassured Ser Gerold at every turn. Yes, they had loyal men stationed throughout the city along the path they needed to travel to get to the Red Keep. Certainly, Lord Stark would smuggle them inside through a smaller side entrance and would have his houseguard with him. Of course the throne room would be filled with Targaryen loyalists. And yes, Ned Stark had indeed seen to it that every hallway was safe for the Prince to walk past. Even if Prince Oberyn rolled his eyes several times at the barrage of questions, he kept his composure and provided Ser Gerold with the necessary information.
  
  Not long after, they disembarked dressed up as Stark men, Jon's three Kingsguards as well. They had donned a closed helmet for the occasion. Lord Stark would send loyal servants to unload a large number of crates they had brought with them on the ship. Most of them were filled with Targaryen banners and the correct attire for the Kingsguard, houseguard and servants. Once Jon had met with Robert Baratheon, things would change quickly. The people would believe the transition of power better if there were visual signs of House Targaryen's presence all around the Red Keep and as soon as possible throughout the entire city as well.
  
  The plan was for Davos and Sam to disembark separately. They were dressed as normal inhabitants and would be able to navigate the streets without causing suspicion. Davos even predicted that they would arrive first since two men could navigate the narrow streets easier than a mounted caravan.
  
  The ship carrying Princess Daenerys and Ser Barristan would dock later that morning. She would join them as soon as they sent word that it was safe for her to enter the Red Keep. Dany and Jon had argued about it after supper, but Jon with the support of his Kingsguard had finally persuaded her to give in. She would at most be half a day behind them.
  
  His main argument had been that her safety was paramount to him and he would not be able to concentrate fully if he was consumed with worry about her. His Kingsguards were anxious enough about the fact that Jon wasn't quick on his feet due to his wounded leg and would not be able to defend himself or run and hide fast enough if things went wrong. Although she had given in in front of Jon's advisers she had joined him in his chambers afterwards and had not minced her words in private.
  
  "Sit down Aegon and rest your leg. We need to talk and it won't be a short conversation." Her harsh tone had startled him.
  
  "I thought you understood, that you agreed." He had stammered while obeying her order and installing himself on his bed. He had tapped the spot beside him with pleading eyes.
  
  Dany had ignored his inviting gesture and had removed Blackfyre from the chair next to his bed where he had just left it and had put the precious object on a small table instead. She had taken a seat, but had kept her back stiff. After she had carefully folded her hands in her lap, she had lifted her head and had fixed her stare on him, no longer concealing the anger she felt. He had admired how calm she explained herself despite her obvious frustration with his behaviour.
  
  "I mostly agree with you that the war up North was men's business and I would just have been a nuisance to you if I had come along. You certainly do not seem to realise how much I would have preferred to go with you. I am of the opinion that there would have been many things I could have helped you out with over there. But still, I get that you would have been worried for me in such a harsh environment facing an unpredictable enemy with superior numbers."
  
  She had cocked her head slightly and had continued. "But isn't that the same for the loved ones who are left behind when men go to war? Did you once stop to think about how worried I was for your well-being and survival every single moment you were out there risking your life? Fool that I was, I convinced myself that next time when you faced some danger in the south you would let me help you. And I wouldn't mind if my role then would be confined to caring for the wounded or arranging the logistics like food and shelter. I would be there with you and more importantly, I would know all the sooner whether you survived and were all right or not. But at the first opportunity here in the south, you intend to keep me away just the same."
  
  "I don't." Jon had only gotten two words out when he was silenced by her next words.
  
  "You do keep me away, Aegon. You shelter me as if I was some slim, tall glass ornament that would topple over by the slightest draft in the room and would be irreparably damaged. What am I to you? You claim to love me but we hardly see each other. You are always flying off to deal with the next dire problem and don't even bother explaining to me what is really going on. I must have dreamed that you were better than other men and treated women better than the average male. Reality teaches me otherwise. I had cherished the hope that we were going to be different from other couples, from other rulers. But now, I just don't know what to think."
  
  Jon had closed his eyes at that point. He hadn't been able to think clearly when she had looked so fierce and passionate about what she had been saying. He had willed himself to gather his wits so he could determine how much of what she had been telling him held true and how much had been twisted or exaggerated because she had only looked at it from her point of view. When she had stopped talking and he had slowly opened his eyes he had caught her wiping a single tear away that had escaped her eye. His heart had melted. He had longed to reach out and touch her hand but had decided against it. She probably would have considered it a patronizing gesture at this stage of their disagreement. He would have to try to convince her with words alone for now.
  
  "Dany, we are going to be different. We just need time to find the best way to do that. We will learn together as we go along. I am the first one to agree that I haven't given you enough time or attention but you must admit that circumstances have been dire lately. Will you believe me when I tell you that I have already made plans for things to change from now on?"
  
  She had looked rather skeptical and had expressed that sentiment with her terse one word retort. "How?"
  
  Jon glad that she at least had seemed willing to hear him out, had taken his chance and had carefully considered each word he had uttered next. "I won't pretend that I missed you every moment when I was in the North. Over the next days, I will try to relate to you in detail what happened over there so you can better understand my actions and thoughts these last few sennights. It will not be easy since it is a horrifying tale at times which can give the toughest man nightmares. For you however, I will try. I just need a bit more time and quiet to do so."
  
  He had exhaled deeply and had stared at her with his honest dark Stark eyes, imploring her to believe his next words. "By the Gods I swear to you that I tell you the truth now when I say that in the very moment that I was almost defeated by a White Walker, it was the thought of never being able to hold you again, of never getting the chance to marry you and seeing your stomach swell with our child, that gave me the extra motivation and strength needed to turn the tide and survive that battle."
  
  His eyes had never left her face while he spoke and he had noticed her expression soften a bit. "In future we will travel together, we will rule together. But make no mistake, I will always try to shield you from harm. Not because I consider you a glass ornament but because I couldn't bear losing you forever, Dany. Don't hold that against me. And if you ever are to join me on a battlefield, it will be behind the frontlines with an entire regiment of Dragonguards there to protect you. You will have to accept that. I can't act otherwise. In any other matter, you may always challenge me, order me to hear you out and treat you as an equal partner. You can even demand that I give precedence to your opinion over my own and I will promise to consider it. But never on a battlefield, Dany. Never on a battlefield."
  
  He had taken a few deep breaths to have a little time to mull over his next words. He had known that she would keep silent because he still hadn't fully answered her question. "You ask me how things will be different? They will be different because I will make an effort to make time for you every day. No matter how busy our schedules are or how dire the issues we need to deal with during the day. And I say we because you will be part of every meeting you choose to attend. But aside from seeing you in meetings, I promise you to make time for a private discussion with you at least once a day. You can berate me then, tell me what I am doing right, what I am doing wrong without the presence of witnesses and without me holding it against you. I make you the solemn vow to always hear you out and keep an open mind. And more importantly, I will always be honest when I answer you. But in turn I ask that you grant me the same courtesy. I need you to promise me to hear me out as well when I need to unburden or explain myself to you. But more importantly, I beseech you to give me honesty, always and in all matters."
  
  "Private time each day and absolute honesty, you promise?" She had leaned a bit forward when she had asked him that.
  
  "I promise. And if there are things I can't tell you about, I will explain to you why that is the case and you will have the absolute certainty that the reasons I give you are the honest to the Gods absolute truth. Can you promise me the same?"
  
  She had looked at him then as if he she could truly see him for the very first time. Her purple eyes had once more freely expressed the love she felt for him and he had known at that exact moment that things would be alright. Theirs would be a marriage unlike any he had every witnessed. He might not be able to merge his mind with hers as he could with Rhaegal but they would not need to. They would achieve the same result with open, honest conversations. He would see to that. They would see to that.
  
  "I promise, Aegon. I promise you honesty and I will speak my mind freely even if it means making you angry with me. I hope you won't come to regret granting me that and not treating me like many men that curb their wives' tongues and consider them mere broodmares."
  
  Her soft voice had never sounded so sweet to him and he knew he had probably looked like a fool in love but hadn't cared on bit. He had tapped the space on the bed next to him once more. "Then won't you come and sit on the bed with me for a moment? I kind of am in need of a bit more reassurance than mere words from you can offer me."
  
  "Even if it are honest words?" She had attempted a watery smile.
  
  "Even then." He had held out his arm and she hadn't hesitated any longer. The intensity of their make-up kiss had surprised him. He had heard some of the Free Folk boasting how the couplings after a fierce fight with their spouse had been worth the bruises and hurt ego they had suffered. 'Worth it a thousand times.' Tormund had boasted when Jon had asked him about a nasty bruise on his cheek one time.
  
  The thrill he felt every time they had kissed before had been nothing compared to the lightening he felt now coursing through his blood. He inwardly cursed the fact that they weren't married yet and how he had promised Ser Barristan earlier that they would just talk and maybe exchange an innocent kiss but nothing more. It had been the only way the knight had let her enter his room at this late hour while staying outside in the hallway himself. Ser Barristan had understood their need to cement the precariously truce of their earlier argument and that they preferred to do so in private. He had played his role of chaperone extracting a promise of chastity from Jon all the same.
  
  Jon would have given anything to have been entitled to make her his right there and then. He had summoned all his willpower and had succeeded in ending a very long and passionate kiss. He had taken a few deep breaths and had gazed deep into her dilated pupils. "As much as I want to keep you in my arms and show you how much I love you and worship every inch of your body, I made a promise to Ser Barristan."
  
  "We both did." She had reluctantly released her hold on him and was breathing heavily as well. She had settled herself against the headboard of his bed and had stared straight ahead. Her hand that had rested between them however had shifted slightly towards his until she could caress it endearingly. He had not hesitated and had intertwined their fingers. A comfortable silence had ensued. Dany had been the first one to test their new resolution.
  
  "Perhaps I can try to make a start with speaking my mind and letting you know some of my thoughts?" She had offered after she had regained her composure somewhat.
  
  "We can make a start tonight if Ser Barristan allows us a bit longer." Jon had pressed her hand silently acknowledging his thanks for the effort she had been making.
  
  Dany had checked the door that had still remained closed. She had turned to him and he had been able to discern the determined look that had appeared in her eyes. "I want to talk to you about the dragons, Aegon."
  
  He smiled at the memory when he mounted one of the horses that had been brought down to the docks the day before and absently saw his Kingsguards do the same. He pushed the thoughts of Dany and their newest project to the back of his mind and silently admired the thoroughbred that Prince Oberyn rode. It was clear that the Dornish Prince had brought his own steed. The horses were a last minute adjustment to their plan because of Jon's injury.
  
  The mounted party stayed behind a row of houseguards that marched on foot and cleared the way for them. The rear of their small caravan consisted of two more rows of their own men dressed up as Stark guards. Jon was in full armour. He wore the exact same armour as his Kingsguards had put on for the occasion. He also had a helmet covering his face. Jon's formal outfit had been neatly folded in a large saddle bag and had been secured to Ser Oswell's horse.
  
  The people they passed in the streets of King's Landing barely looked up when they passed by. By now, everyone was used to the sight of the Stark men going about the capital as if they owned it. Jon didn't give the smallfolk much attention either. His gaze was directed towards Aegon's Hill and the pale red stone of the Red Keep. They encountered no trouble whatsoever and the small caravan quickly reached a side gate where they were supposed to pass through the large wall and enter the Red Keep's domain.
  
  His Uncle who had been waiting there for them hugged Jon silently and then the large group marched hurriedly to the inner gates that gave entrance to the palace itself. Ser Gerold was really taking his duties seriously. Jon now flanked by Uncle Ned and Ser Gerold both with their hands on the pommel of their swords, took his first steps inside the stronghold that had been built by his ancestors. Three guards walked in front of him and a large contingent of men protected his rear. They all wore the sigil of House Stark for now.
  
  Jon had never set foot in King's Landing before and had only seen the Red Keep from afar. He tried to look past the guards that surrounded him to take in his first close glimpses of the palace where he would reign but was hindered at every turn.
  
  "How is King Robert?" Jon whispered to his uncle when they stopped at an inner gate waiting for the guards to open the large doors to let them pass.
  
  "He is hanging in there. He is lucid and very much wants to meet you. It won't be long though." His uncle looked haggard and sad when he told his nephew this in a low tone of voice.
  
  Ser Gerold addressed Lord Stark now also speaking discreetly. "Have all our allies been informed. Are you sure our Prince will be safe in there?"
  
  "Of course I am sure. Almost everybody present in the Red Keep is a vetted Targaryen loyalist. You have been receiving a new list of names every few days. A small army from the Riverlands has arrived and will help the City Watch with keeping the smallfolk in the city under control in case of a revolt but we all agreed that such a thing is not likely to happen. Every man we can trust in King's Landing has been alerted. Lord Varys has been spreading rumours in favour of our Prince and several songs are sung by people paid by him that praise the saviour who rides a dragon. All of Jon's deeds in the North are being whispered about as far as the shabbiest corner of Fleabottom."
  
  "What about potential enemies here inside the Keep?" Ser Gerold still kept the group of men from venturing further inside before he was satisfied that Jon's safety could be ensured.
  
  "I have ordered my men to work together with the Targaryen loyalists so that at every opportunity and in every room we will outnumber the nobles whose alliance might be doubtful once they realise who my nephew really is. We have everything under control, Ser Gerold. Stannis Baratheon hasn't even done his sick brother the courtesy of showing up no matter how many times we summoned him. He hasn't been told that the King is dying. Nobody has been informed of that yet. Don't forget that the few men from the Stormlands that are in King's Landing are ones that have pledged to support our cause."
  
  "Let's stay vigilant all the same. My Prince, stay close to us at all times and be prepared to draw your weapon."
  
  "Don't worry, Ser Gerold. I am sure nobody in here will be stupid enough to draw his sword and if someone were to try, I am confident you will have dealt with him before I can even think to draw my sword." Jon's tone clearly conveyed his wish to move forward.
  
  "Of course we will deal with them, my Prince. But these moments are decisive. Stay alert. "
  
  A small commotion made the men startle and draw their weapons. They were quickly put away again. Davos Seaworth and Sam Tarly had bumped into their rear guard. As soon as order had been restored, Ser Gerold gave Lord Stark the sign to continue and they followed the Hand of the Baratheon King along several corridors. On Lord Stark's command, the guards spread out and by the time they stopped at a door, the group had dwindled down to just Ned, Jon, his three Kingsguards and two of Lord Stark's men. Sam and Davos had stayed behind as well.
  
  Ned ushered them inside a large room where Jon could change out of his armour and dress as the Prince of Dragonstone. A large coat hid his sigil of the three headed dragon on his doublet for now. Ned had been honoured to notice that the head of a direwolf had been incorporated at the bottom of the Targaryen sigil.
  
  "We are close to the King's quarters. We just need to walk to the end of that hallway and turn right. Once inside, you can display your house's sigil proudly, Jon." Lord Stark explained then he turned to the three knights.
  
  "Ser Gerold, I will need you all to remain outside. The royal bedchamber has two exits. Stark houseguards are stationed at the servant's entrance. You will stay here in the hallway by the main door."
  
  "Is there no way at least one of us can guard the door from the inside?" Ser Gerold did not look happy at Lord Stark's suggestion.
  
  "Not before the official abdication has taken place. Then it is up to Jon or more precisely, King Aegon." Ned explained. I hope you trust me with the life of my only nephew, Ser Gerold."
  
  "It is okay, Ser Gerold." Jon spoke up. He had finished dressing but handed his swordbelt with Blackfyre to his Lord Commander. "Please take this for now. I can't enter with a sword on my belt in the King's bedchamber."
  
  Ser Gerold looked at Lord Stark and relented. "I entrust him to you. Promise me you will throw something heavy against the door or find another way to alert us if you need our urgent assistance."
  
  "You have my word. I will keep him safe." Lord Stark nodded to the three knights looking calm and confident. "You can follow us till we reach the door of the King's bedchamber. Once there, be advised that I will enter the room alone at first to inform to the King of Jon's presence."
  
  The small group quickly approached the door to the King's bedchambers. Two Stark houseguards stood at their post guarding the door.
  
  "Is the King alone in his room?" Ned asked his own men.
  
  "The healer left a while ago and told us that the King was resting. He is alone, Lord Hand."
  
  "He will be expecting us." Ned Stark spoke these words so the guards would open the door for him. Next he addressed his nephew. "I'll quickly announce your presence and then you will be allowed to come inside." Ned voice brokered no comment and nobody objected when he swiftly turned around and disappeared inside the bedchamber.
  
  The room smelled of sickness and Robert lay in the bed with his eyes closed. His face looked drawn even in rest. Ned approached the bed and took the bluish hand in his.
  
  "Robert, are you awake? There is a visitor here to see you."
  
  "Ned? I was just resting my eyes. I am not in the mood for visitors now. But you may stay. I want you to tell me more about Lyanna's son. Tell me again about his friendship with this young man that you claim is my bastard, Gendry and is my spitting image. I like to hear how a younger version of you and one of me are friends just like we were."
  
  "Wouldn't it be nicer if he told you personally? My nephew is waiting outside your door." Ned saw Robert's entire body come alive as it were.
  
  "He has come?" The King opened his eyes as wide as he could. His hands were pushing at his furs.
  
  "All the way from Eastwatch beyond the Wall. He has flown here just as you requested." Ned was quick to confirm.
  
  "Hurry, help me up, Ned." Robert looked frantic and was trying to get to a more upright position but was too weak to accomplish that by himself.
  
  "Is that wise, Robert?" Ned approached the bed now so he could help his friend if he persisted in his folly.
  
  "Help me up, dammit. The damage has already been done. I want to look a little more dignified when I meet him. Come on, Ned. Don't make me beg." Instead of being pale, the King's cheeks now had a feverish red colour.
  
  It was a struggle but with their combined efforts they managed to get Robert to sit half upright with a bundle of furs supporting his back.
  
  "All right." Robert was breathing heavily his face contorted with pain. "Now drape my best coat over my shoulders. He flattened his beard with his right hand. Do I look presentable enough?"
  
  "You look just fine, Robert. You haven't lost your Baratheon charm yet. He will recognise your blue eyes immediately. They always were your best feature." Ned tried to appease the dying man. He hesitated whether he would ask him to lose the nightcap but decided against it.
  
  "I sure as hells charmed the ladies with them. Where is that royal decree? Give it to me. I'll hide it under the co-covers until we have spoken."
  
  Ned handed him a large scroll. "Thank you for doing this, Robert."
  
  The King scoffed. "Who would I have appointed as my heir? My brother who b-b-burns children and who doesn't even shy away from burning kin? Or my other brother who fucks men and cannot beget heirs. Lyanna's son is honourable and the right option when all is taken into account. All will be well, Ned."
  
  Ned shook his head. "It is I who should be saying that to you, Robert. Are you ready? Shall I summon him?"
  
  "It is time. Let him enter, Ned."
  
  Interlude 34: A royal punishment
  
  Willas Tyrell hesitated when he arrived at Lannisport and saw a delegation of Lannister soldiers waiting patiently until he disembarked. They probably had orders to escort him to Lord Tyrion Lannister.
  
  Life sometimes took strange turns. Fate somehow kept throwing Myrcella and him together when he least expected it. First at Winterfell and now surely he was going to see her again while he was a guest at the Rock. He had often thought of her. Mostly wondering how she had adapted to the life of a bastard. The golden Princess of Westeros was now the incestuous bastard of a Mad Queen and her adulterous twin brother. He was not sure if he wanted to see her with the way things were now. A Lord could not treat a bastard as an equal. Seeing each other would only result in pain and heartache. Perhaps he would not get the chance even if he wanted to see her. She might be hidden away in the servants quarters, doing the Gods know what so House Lannister could pretend that she and her brother didn't exist and thus could uphold a fake respectability. He cursed the task that had brought him here. If only he had travelled a little quicker. If only he had sailed off before they had caught up with him. If only.
  
  Nobody could have been more surprised than him when a messenger had intercepted him at Seagard. His first thought had been that his grandmother had wanted him to change his plans and head for King's Landing instead of hurrying home to Highgarden. Nothing had been further from the truth.
  
  The message had been a summons from Prince Aegon Targaryen. It was a request to stop at Casterly Rock and convey a message from the Targaryen Prince to Lord Tyrion Lannister. The strange thing was that he was not yet in possession of the missive himself. He would only receive it when he arrived at Lannisport. The Prince would make sure he got it in time for his interview with Lord Lannister.
  
  Willas couldn't for the life of him come up with a reasonable explanation why it was imperative that he be the one to present the Targaryen Prince's request to Lord Tyrion Lannister in person. However, the incentive offered by the Prince was too great to refuse the errand. The message he received had stated clearly that if Lord Willas Tyrell agreed to carry out this assignment, he would ensure that House Tyrell did not lose its position as Lord Paramount of the Reach despite not offering their allegiance as of yet as the others had. To make things even more mysterious, the message had been signed by Prince Oberyn Martell on behalf of Prince Aegon Targaryen.
  
  "We have orders from King Aegon to escort you safely to Casterly Rock, Lord Tyrell." The leader of the red and golden attired guards addressed him. "Lord Lannister has been advised of your visit. We brought you a mount."
  
  "King Aegon?" Willas was baffled now.
  
  "King Robert died and he appointed King Aegon as his heir by royal decree days before he passed away. We were ordered to inform you that a message from the King awaits you at Casterly Rock, my Lord."
  
  Willas accepted the reins of the horse. He turned toward his manservant. "Please see to it that the crate with my overnight luggage is brought up to the Castle."
  
  He mounted the chestnut mare they had brought for him and steered the horse next to the spot where the leader was waiting for him. "Perhaps you can enlighten me on these new developments on our way up to the castle. I have been confined on a boat for some time and apparently missed this major political change."
  
  Willas Tyrell was immediately escorted to a large room where Lord Lannister was waiting to receive him. Willas bowed and started the greeting.
  
  "Lord Lannister, I am pleased to meet you again. We didn't get a chance to meet each other at Winterfell." He stopped looking suddenly nervous and cursed himself to be so stupid as to remind Tyrion Lannister of the downfall of his family.
  
  "Please be seated, Lord Tyrell." Tyrion Lannister motioned the servants who immediate brought a tray of bread and salt.
  
  "Ever since I've visited the North, I have developed a strong appreciation for some of their customs. I never quite thought much of guest rights until I read some of the history books in Lord Stark's excellent library."
  
  Lord Lannister took the plate from the servant and personally presented it to the heir of Highgarden. Willas took a small piece of breath, dipped it in the salt careful not to get too much of it on the bread and took a small bite.
  
  "I thank you for your consideration, Lord Lannister. I am sure my visit must come as a surprise to you."
  
  "Not at all." The dwarf replied keeping his voice as formal as Willas Tyrell's. "I have been waiting a long time to receive an ambassador of House Targaryen. The only thing that I did not suspect is that it would be a Lord of House Tyrell playing messenger boy. As far as I knew your house was one of the last to recognize the claim of King Aegon. I have been told they refused to do so at several instances when our King was still a Prince."
  
  "That is a strong way of putting it. We were never asked explicitly. All we received were vague hints, and you know my grandmother." Willas cringed when he grasped how weak his explanation sounded.
  
  Lord Lannister just mockingly raised an eyebrow and kept silent. Willas swallowed and changed the subject. "You mentioned that you have been expecting a royal ambassador. Then you know why I am here?"
  
  Willas Tyrell had quickly realised that he was at an even greater disadvantage than he had originally surmised. His host seemed to know exactly why he was there, while he still hadn't the faintest clue what message he was bringing to House Lannister. Perhaps King Aegon was punishing his house by selecting him to bring the bad news that House Lannister lost the title of Lord Paramount. Perhaps they had to relinquish the Rock or the exploitation rights to their mines. He started sweating.
  
  "Of course, I know." Lord Tyrion now studied Willas Tyrell closely, a puzzled expression had appeared on the dwarf's face. "You brought the legalization papers for my niece and nephew, did you not?"
  
  "Legalization? Tommen and Myrcella?" Willas all of a sudden was praying fervently that that was indeed the message he was supposed to bring here.
  
  A Lannister houseguard entered without knocking, seemingly out of breath. "Apologies, my Lords. This package needed to be handed over to Lord Tyrell immediately upon his arrival. Once again my sincerest apologies." The man gave the stunned young Lord a thick parcel. Then he bowed and quickly exited the room again.
  
  "Ah," the dwarf exhaled loudly. He looked visibly relieved. "That explains it. Shall I give you some privacy to examine the content of the package first?"
  
  "I would be much obliged, Lord Lannister. And perhaps a glass of wine? I might appreciate that as well?"
  
  "Of course, where are my manners? I'll fetch a servant right away. He will show you to a guest room and bring you some refreshments. I'll see you when it is time for supper. Perhaps I can then introduce you to Lady Myrcella Lannister and her brother, Lord Tommen Lannister." Tyrion Lannister smiled and as quick as his little legs allowed him, he exited the room to fetch the promised servant.
  
  Willas unable to utter a single word just watched him leave, clutching the package tightly in his grasp. Could it really be that this wrapped up bundle of scrolls, adorned with the bright red Targaryen sigil and a small crown contained a royal decree making Myrcella a Lady Lannister, trueborn kin to a lord Paramount? That would change things considerably. He sobered. Not if Grandmother had already agreed to betroth him to Lady Sansa of House Stark. He was glad when the servant entered so he could retire to a private room and check what exactly the package contained.
  
  Willas sat on the bed, his legs stretched out before him, his head resting against the headboard and closed his eyes. He took three deep breaths and then opened them and pinched his arm. No, he was not dreaming. He was still in a richly furnished bedroom with lots of gilded objects. He smiled when he took in the sight of the all-important papers that were neatly ordered on the bed within his reach.
  
  "Grandmother must be furious." He spoke the words out loud and chuckled. "And now I am behaving like a madman, talking to myself."
  
  He shook his head. If he was a madman, he was a very happy one. He had first read the royal decree effectively declaring Myrcella and Tommen members of House Lannister with all the rights and privileges of trueborn children of Jaime Lannister. What was more, Lord Tommen was proclaimed the heir to Casterly Rock and the next Lord Paramount regardless of any future offspring the current Lord Lannister might sire. Lord Tyrion was relegated to the position of temporary regent. Next he had broken the seal on the letter King Aegon had addressed to him personally.
  
  The letter started with an apology for the impulsive manner in which he had been summoned to the Rock by Prince Oberyn. King Aegon however was quick to reassure that Prince Oberyn's actions had merely sped up the process and that the end result was the one he had always intended.
  
  The letter went on with some more formal wordings but Willas had needed to read it twice to grasp the repercussions. His grandmother was harshly rebuked for her stubborn ambitious scheming and House Tyrell had temporarily lost the right to decide the betrothals of their kin. King Aegon was exercising his right as King of the Seven Kingdoms to choose the bride of the heir to the Reach. Lady Margaery also needed to await royal approval before entering a betrothal. His younger brother, Loras would not be allowed to marry. He would be forced to accept a position as a Kingsguard.
  
  Willas smiled when he compared the harsh terms spelled out on the scroll to the way this news would be received by its immediate recipients. Loras would be thrilled and honoured and he, well he was going to jump on the opportunity and ask Lord Lannister for the hand of his niece, Lady Myrcella of House Lannister before the first course would be served. And Lord Lannister even though he would not be given a choice in the matter by King Aegon would be very happy to have his niece betrothed the heir to Highgarden without having to provide a dowry. That was also a condition of King Aegon. House Tyrell would not be getting any gold from the Lannisters but were obliged to proclaim any offspring of their son Willas with Lady Myrcella of House Lannister as the rightful heirs to Highgarden and the next in line to become Lord Paramount of the Reach.
  
  Willas looked at the small crate containing the bare necessities for a one night stay. He regretted leaving his more formal outfit on the ship. He shook his head. It didn't matter. This attire would do. Myrcella would take him even in rags and his future good-uncle, well Lord Lannister had been given no choice in the matter. The King had decreed. He quickly sprang into action. He called for a servant to inform Lord Lannister that he wanted a private audience before supper and did his best to refresh himself and present a respectable image to his future good-uncle.
  
  To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk
  
  Your Grace,
  
  I formally announce the betrothal of my niece, the Lady Myrcella of House Lannister and Lord Willas of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.
  
  I send this letter to confirm that we will all travel to the capital as soon as our trunks are packed to swear our allegiance to Your Grace in person and to convey our wishes for a prosperous reign that hopefully will last for many, many years. May I take the liberty to inform Your Grace that House Lannister is of the opinion that Westeros will greatly benefit from Your Grace's rule?
  
  Since it will take us some time to reach King's Landing and I am an impatient man, I use this message to express my admiration for the decisive ways by which Your Grace entrusts the lifelong loyalty of his subjects. Your Grace certainly has a unique way to make a punishment into a means of winning over the hearts of several subjects. (I might need to make an exception for the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell. But I am sure her absence at your Court will not be a great loss to anyone.)
  
  My new King seems to be a man after my own heart. I look forward to meeting Your Grace face to face. If I may be so bold as to suggest a game of cyvasse? That might be a good opportunity to get the measure of one another. I am of course at your disposal and open to any other proposal Your Grace might suggest since you certainly come up with original ones.
  
  If ever I speak up against you, just remind me of this letter and the mood I was in while writing it. This diminutive lion is open to a friendship request of a dragon.
  
  My niece, nephew and future good-nephew all send you their deepest gratitude and ensure me that they will be more eloquent when standing before your Grace. I certainly hope so since they are deeply indebted to your Grace.
  
  Your obedient servant,
  
  Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, Regent of Casterly Rock and temporary Warden of the East
  
  End notes:
  
  Next week: All hail King Aegon the Sixth of his Name. And to avoid misunderstandings, as always, the interlude is separate from the main story. With which I mean that the next chapter will start at the exact same moment this main chapter ended. "It is time. Let him enter, Ned."
  
  I am not robbing you of the conversation between King Robert and Jon.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  All hail King Aegon the Sixth
  Chapter 35: All hail King Aegon the Sixth of his Name
  
  Summary:
  
  The first day in the reign of our protagonist. We pick up right where we left off in the previous 'main' chapter.
  
  Once again the interlude is set slightly in the future.
  
  Notes:
  
  Jon is King and I only needed 400.000 words to get to this point :-)
  
  My version of the Iron Throne is closer to the one in the books than the one shown in the TV series. You can see a sketch of it in the wiki of ice and fire. ( . /Iron_Throne)
  
  Once again this chapter is unbeta'd. My beta is taking a small hiatus and will hopefully be back soon.
  
  A warm thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. I appreciate each and every one of them.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  "It is time. Let him enter, Ned."
  
  Ned quickly walked to the door of the royal bedchamber and soon after returned to Robert's bedside in the company of a young man.
  
  "Your Grace, may I present to you my nephew, Prince Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone?" Ned omitted the 'true heir part' out of respect for his friend who was still the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms by Conquest for now.
  
  "Nephew, you stand in the presence of King Robert Baratheon." Ned looked between the two men who were eager to take the measure of each other, neither of them minding the shortened introductions.
  
  "Greetings, King Robert. I never imagined we would meet under such dire circumstances. I am sorry to hear of your fate." Jon politely opened the conversation after having taken up position at the other side of the bed.
  
  "You look just like her." Robert barely got the words out. He swallowed and turned to face Ned. "You were right, Ned. He is much more Stark than Targaryen. Noble Stark blood will sit on the Iron Throne, Lyanna's son."
  
  "I am also Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's son." Jon pointed out to the King in a firm voice.
  
  Robert ignored his words and whispered. "Please come closer. I want to speak with you. I have to clear my conscience."
  
  Ned nodded encouragingly at Jon who hesitated. Robert held out his hand pleading with the young Prince to take it in his. Jon recalling the vision his little cousin had described to him and kneeled in front of the bed. He took the King's pale, feverish hand in his.
  
  "Thank you." The relief was visible on the King's face.
  
  "I want to apologize for what happened to your family. I should have ke-kept a tighter leash on Tywin Lannister. I never ordered him to ki-kill them but he did it to please me and," Robert paused and took a few shallow breaths. "And once the deed was done, there was no going back and I chose a position of strength."
  
  "That doesn't ring true." Jon retorted calmly releasing the King's clammy hand and getting back on his feet. "You still kept sending assassins to my young Aunt in Pentos for many years after that."
  
  "You're right. I persisted in my behaviour. But you must believe me when I tell you that now, knowing what I know now, I deeply regret what happened. I apologize sincerely and ask for your forgiveness."
  
  "I thank you for the sentiment but I cannot absolve you entirely. I would lie if I told you I did." Jon kept his voice firm and tried to keep his wits about him. The unnaturally red on the cheeks of Robert Baratheon but most of all the smell of sickness surrounding him reminded Jon of the only man dying a non-violent death that he had ever stood in the presence of, his great-great-uncle Aemon.
  
  "A Stark through and through, honour and principles. You raised a fine boy, Ned." Despite addressing his Hand, the King did not take his eyes off the Targaryen Prince who stood stiffly at his bedside.
  
  "What will happen to my brothers once you take the throne?" Robert asked him while he studied the determined face of the young man who towered over him.
  
  Jon took a breath. At least to this question, he could give a forthright answer that would be appreciated. "Prince Renly will lose his title of Prince and instead will be given back the title of the Lord of Storm's End and House Baratheon will retain the position of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Renly Baratheon has agreed to name as his heir your bastard son, Gendry that I will legalize as one of my first acts as King of the Seven Kingdoms. He will be known forthwith as Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to Storm's End.
  
  Robert nodded relieved. "And Stannis?"
  
  Jon's eyes darkened but his voice was calm and unwavering when he answered the King's question. "Stannis Baratheon will stand trial for murder and will be executed. I cannot condone the burning of innocent people. He will stand trial and lose his head. That is, if he shall not be killed in battle first. If, as we suspect, he refuses to surrender Storm's End peacefully to his younger brother, I will bring fire and blood to Stannis Baratheon."
  
  "Lady Shireen, I mean Princess Shireen," Jon corrected himself as she was still a Princess for the time being, "will have a choice. She may go live with her uncle at Storm's End or will be welcome to live at my court. She will be regarded as a noble Lady of a Lord Paramount's House and I will not tolerate any mistreatment of her because of the actions of her kin. I will recognise her as my cousin and treat her as such. You have my word of honour."
  
  "Thank you," Robert whispered. "I thank you on behalf of Renly and my poor niece." Robert spoke a bit louder now.
  
  "Renly Baratheon is not to blame for what happened seventeen years ago. His recent arrest and exile were unfortunate and he will receive a full royal pardon."
  
  "A Targaryen pardoning a Baratheon, that says it all." Robert turned to Ned. "I think it is time." He pulled the scroll out from under the covers and handed it to his Hand. "As your last act as Hand of King Robert Baratheon first of his name, please read this scroll out loud."
  
  Jon straightened his posture, fully aware of what was about to happen. He knew the letter his uncle had sent him by hard by now. He stared firmly in the eyes of the dying King and nodded. Then both men turned their faces toward Lord Stark when the latter started to read.
  
  I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,
  
  Protector of the Realm,
  
  being of sound mind and disposing of memory do hereby make public and declare this to be my will, hereby revoking all wills and royal decrees by me heretofore made on the matter decreed below.
  
  As from this day, I abdicate the Iron Throne and all titles that go with it and name as my successor Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and his lawfully wedded wife the Princess Lyanna of House Targaryen formerly of House Stark. I relinquish the right of Conquest of House Baratheon to the Iron Throne and give it most willingly and freely back to House Targaryen, more specifically to its rightful heir, Prince Aegon, the son of my beloved Lyanna.
  
  This was done on the 65th day of 299 AC in front of witnesses who solemnly swear that I am sound of mind and am performing a free and voluntary act, without any duress, coercion or undue influence exerted by a member of House Targaryen or a third party.
  
  All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk.
  
  Signed by
  
  King Robert of House Baratheon, now Lord Robert of House Baratheon,...
  
  Witnessed by
  
  Lord Eddard of House Stark,...
  
  Lord Yohn of House Royce,...
  
  Prince Oberyn of House Martell,...
  
  Lord Varys,...
  
  Davos Seaworth,
  
  Ser Gerold Hightower,....
  
  Lord Stark lowered the important scroll. "I skipped reading all the titles of the signatories. Only the last two still need to sign but that is just a minor matter that will soon be put to rights. They are all present in the Red Keep, your Grace." Lord Stark pertinently looked at Jon when he spoke his last two words.
  
  Ned then removed the brooch of the Hand of the King from his doublet and walked around the bed. He went to his knees and bowed his head.
  
  "I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be, my King. I swear it by the Old Gods."
  
  "Please rise, Uncle. You already swore your allegiance. You will always have my respect, gratitude, support and protection. And I repeat my offer that you are welcome to serve as my Hand alongside Davos Seaworth. You only have to say the word, be it now or at any point in the future."
  
  Ned got back to his feet and handed the brooch to Jon. "I am honoured to be offered the positon but if you can make do without me, I ask your permission to return to the North after your coronation and wedding, your Grace. I will serve you faithfully as Warden of the North."
  
  "Permission granted, Uncle. We will speak of this later." He looked significantly to the bed.
  
  "Lord Baratheon, I thank you for the dignified way in which you accepted the situation. Is there anything we can do for you?"
  
  "Your Grace," Robert nodded once to mimic a bow. "I wish you good fortune. I only ask that you grant me a visit later. It must not be long. A pri-private audience after I had a chance to recuperate."
  
  "Of course, Lord Baratheon. We will leave you now so you can rest. I promise to come back if not today than tomorrow at the latest."
  
  "Thank you, your Grace." Robert Baratheon closed his eyes and didn't open them until the door closed behind his former foster-brother and Lyanna's son. The Gods really had a strange sense of humour and sure as hells enjoyed toying with a man's life. Gods, the boy was Lyanna reborn. Just as fierce, just as beautiful. He would make a good King. And Robert felt cheated that he would not be alive to see it.
  
  When Jon exited the room, his three loyal knights as well as Sam and Davos looked at him expectantly. Lord Stark smiled. "You stand in the presence of King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name."
  
  His loyal entourage including the Stark guards present at the door and the others a bit further in the hallway but still within hearing range all kneeled and bowed their head. "Your Grace," the words echoed around him until they had all greeted him that way.
  
  "Please rise." Jon looked embarrassed at the subservient display of the men that had raised him, cared for him, protected him and chastised him if necessary for as long as he had known them. He hoped that this would be one of the last times that they would kneel to him in this way. He still remembered his discussion with Ser Gerold on the ship earlier this day.
  
  Jon had explained exactly why he had been so disappointed by their lack of warmth during their reunion on the cliffs. Ser Gerold had made it clear what their duties would entail as soon as he was officially their King. They had exchanged their interpretations on how strictly everyone would need to adhere to protocol and what reforms were acceptable and had reached a consensus. Both men had needed to make concessions.
  
  Jon had won the battle where it concerned everyone's behaviour when amongst themselves away from prying eyes and ears. He had conceded considerable ground though when Ser Gerold had laid out how formal things would be when in public and what his Lord Commander considered to be a public setting. For example, Jon walking to and from his quarters along hallways where servants and guards were present was a public setting and his Kingsguards would not be allowed to speak to him if not explicitly ordered to. To prevent Jon from finding a way around that, Ser Gerold had made Jon solemnly promise to order them to speak at such occasions only for safety or emergency purposes.
  
  The men had all risen back to their feet. Jon noticed how his uncle handed the thick scroll to Davos.
  
  "Get Ser Gerold to sign this and sign it yourself. You will read this document out loud before the court this afternoon. As of now, that is no longer my duty." Both men exchanged a wan smile.
  
  Jon meanwhile had accepted his sword belt that Ser Gerold held out to him. He immediately felt more at ease with the familiar weight of Blackfyre at his side. Looking at his surroundings he addressed Lord Stark. "Let's take this elsewhere. Can we perhaps retreat to the Tower of the Hand, Uncle?"
  
  "Excellent suggestion, your Grace. Except, there are a lot of stairs to climb in order to get there. Perhaps we can adjourn to the room where King Robert signed his decrees. That happens to be situated very conveniently right around the corner."
  
  When Jon nodded his assent, Lord Stark quickly led the way. Ser Gerold was the first to open the door to check whether it was safe for his King to enter. Three men were already inside but instantly got to their knees when they spotted Jon. Prince Oberyn, Lord Yohn of House Royce and Lord Varys apparently had been expecting them to come here.
  
  Prince Oberyn made an exaggerated, ostentatious gesture and was the first to swear his allegiance. "Your Grace, I recognise you as my King and solemnly vow to be your loyal servant and will give my life for yours if need be. My spear is yours to command. I swear it by all the Gods and by the lives of my children and loved ones."
  
  And I vow that you shall always have a place at my court and have the support and protection of the Seven Kingdoms. I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." Jon answered with his hand lightly on Prince Oberyn's shoulder. He had trouble to keep a serious mien when he looked into the twinkling eyes of the Dornish Prince that peeked up at him when he finished his reply.
  
  "Perhaps we should perform the rest or the oaths in the Throne Room before the entire Court, your Grace. The more witnesses the better." Davos was quick to interfere before the others followed the example of the Dornish Prince. Prince Oberyn meanwhile had gotten back to his feet.
  
  "I agree." Jon limped to the nearest chair and sat down stretching his leg. He had done his utmost to conceal this injury from Robert Baratheon and was glad he could now rest his leg for a while.
  
  Prince Oberyn was quick to offer. "I don't mind putting on a show in the Throne room and repeating these words with even more flair and originality. It might be the only moment in there that you will be able to enjoy yourself." The smug expression left his face when he saw how Jon manoeuvred his right leg. "Will it heal all right? Will you regain your agility?"
  
  "Don't worry, Oberyn. Soon enough, I will be able to best you again. I only need a sennight of rest before I will show my face again in the training yard."
  
  Prince Oberyn looked relieved at his words and nodded.
  
  Jon looked up at everyone and saw they were all waiting for him to say something. He smiled to himself and made use his Kingly authority at once.
  
  "I will take this opportunity to forbid any of you from dropping to your knees before me in a private setting ever again unless I explicitly order you to do so. I will be forever grateful to you all for the support you have given me over the years to bring us to this point. May I ask that in private or in meetings with only my trusted advisers present, you will continue to speak your mind and give me honest, uncensored advice as you have always done before this day?"
  
  "If that is your wish, your Grace." Yohn Royce was the first to answer and the others all nodded in agreement.
  
  Then Davos and Ser Gerold moved over to the impressive desk that King Robert had been so proud of. Both men quickly signed the all-important document. Sam approached the desk and looked through the drawers until he found some sand. He used it to dry the signatures and without further ado took a blank scroll from a drawer, seated himself behind the large desk and started copying the document.
  
  "What are you doing, Sam?" Davos peeked over the young man's shoulders to try and read what he was scribbling so diligently.
  
  "I am making a copy of this document. It might be best to use a copy for the public reading in the throne room. We must protect the original at all cost until we find a safe hiding place. It should only be brought before the Court if absolutely necessary and under heavy guard."
  
  Jon meanwhile looked around the room feeling like an intruder instead of the rightful owner of the place. All this would take some getting used to. Turning his attention back to the small group of his most loyal supporters and noticing that they were waiting for him to decide how to proceed, he took charge.
  
  "Has a messenger been sent to alert Princess Daenerys and have the orders been forwarded to our fleet?"
  
  "Yes, your Grace." Ser Gerold answered. "The ship carrying the Princess will soon dock. She will be here well in time for the official proclamation. The captain has orders to alert the rest of the fleet still on Dragonstone. They will all hoist the Targaryen sails. Half of your fleet will be here before dark and the rest will guard both islands. The City Watch as well as all our guards on the docks are probably being briefed as we speak. Soon we will control the entire city."
  
  "Excellent. Thank you, Ser Gerold." Jon now focused on the Dornish Prince. "Prince Oberyn, might I ask that you return to the docks and welcome the Princess in the same manner you welcomed me earlier? I'd appreciate it if you would be her a princely escort when she traverses the city. I trust you to bring her safely before me."
  
  "Of course, Aegon. I will protect her with my life." He winked and left the room.
  
  "Uncle, can you make the arrangement with the household to find us temporary accommodations?
  
  I am sure there must be adequate quarters for me somewhere in this large stronghold, preferably a room accessible without climbing too many stairs. I promised the Maester I'd be a good boy." He tried to ease the tension in the room but everyone stayed solemn.
  
  "I am on it, your Grace." Ned bowed.
  
  "Wait, Uncle," Jon quickly stopped Lord Stark from leaving the room.
  
  "Lord Varys, can you go with him and see that the crates with our banners are delivered to the quarters that will be assigned to my Kingsguards for now? I want you all to distribute the smaller pins amongst the houseguards and the servant in the red keep so they can add it to their attire. My own men can change into their Targaryen outfits. Lord Stark can instruct the rest of the guards to make small changes to their attire. Also tell the servants to pull down the stag banners. I want my personal sigil to be shown throughout the Keep."
  
  Lord Varys bowed and both men left the room.
  
  "Ser Gerold, I want you three in rooms close to mine for the first few days until we have better grasp on the situation. I count on you to check that at the appointed time, everyone tasked with guard duty in and around the throne room has sworn allegiance and has been outfitted with our sigil. Relieve the former King's Kingsguard of their duties. If they swear allegiance, you can give them any position you deem fit. I leave that to your discretion."
  
  Ser Gerold nodded but Jon was not done yet. "And please can you arrange that enough guards are posted in this hallway? Also, can you double the guards outside Lord Baratheon's rooms as well? Nobody will be allowed to speak with him without my approval. He must not be harassed or threatened because of his voluntary abdication in favour of House Targaryen."
  
  "Your Grace, shall I leave you alone then?" Ser Gerold hesitated to take his leave.
  
  "Yes please. I will use this time to discuss a few urgent matters with Davos Seaworth and Sam. I promise you that I will not leave this room for now, Ser Gerold. Just post enough guards in the hallway. There is no other entrance. We will be quite safe."
  
  "As you wish, my King." Ser Gerold bowed but instead of leaving immediately, he handed his King a small item wrapped up in a brown cloth. Then he turned around without uttering another word and left the room.
  
  Davos chuckled. "Way to go, my King. You cleared the room very effectively."
  
  "And you will soon be sorry that you were allowed to stay," Jon teased his Hand. "But first," he stepped closer to Davos handing him the small package with a serious expression, "you will need to look the part."
  
  Davos accepted the small bundle and unwrapped it swiftly only to find the expected brooch that the Hand of the King must always wear while representing his King. He looked at it in wonderment. This was no ordinary brooch. This was a work of art. The Targaryen symbol or better Jon's personal version of it with the addition of a small direwolf's head was etched in a badge made of solid gold. Davos' eyes grew moist.
  
  Jon took the badge from Davos' shaking hands and personally pinned it to his dear adviser's tunic. He patted the man's shoulder affectionately, took a step back and cleared his throat to mask his own emotional state.
  
  "Now we have a lot of work to do. And please call me Jon or Aegon in private, Davos." Jon relaxed his posture glad it was just the three of them for now.
  
  "Okay, Jon. What assignments have you come up with for me and Sam?" Davos eyes were still shining suspiciously but he looked ready to tackle anything his King might throw at him.
  
  Jon looked at Sam who had stopped scribbling. "Sam did you prepare the decrees legalising Gendry, Myrcella and Tommen?"
  
  "I did, they are in the crates they are bringing to the Red Keep. We just need to add today's date and your signature and stamp."
  
  "And the royal pardon for Lord Renly of House Baratheon and Gylles Stokeworth?"
  
  "Same answer, Jon."
  
  "Excellent. Now I want you to write a new decree immediately. I, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name blah blah blah, you know what to write. For services above and beyond the call of duty, I raise Davos Seaworth to Lord Davos of House Seaworth, a new House of the Crownlands, their Overlord being the Prince of Dragonstone. I grant him a seat to be built within the year on..."
  
  Jon smiled at Davos. "Now Davos here you can choose where you want to build your keep. What do you think of the Driftmark or Dragonstone? Of course you can choose any place for that matter, as long as it is situated within the borders of the Crownlands so I can be your liege Lord."
  
  "Dragonstone will do fine, thank you, Jon. Normally I would object but Sam here didn't stop talking sense into me last night until my head ached and I gave in."
  
  "Good, then we can draft and sign this decree before we go to Court. I want to introduce you as Lord Seaworth and I refuse to have one of my first words in Court be an untruth."
  
  Sam drafted the document in no time and the three men put their signatures under it.
  
  When Davos was about to thank Jon again, the young man held up his hand.
  
  "Now Davos, instead of thanking me, I want you to add the following to your list of things to do: Formulate a procedure to put in a request for a royal pardon by men sent to the Wall for political reasons. Any man that can provide ample proof that he has been sentenced to the Wall solely based on their loyalty to House Targaryen and/or the part he played during the Rebellion and has not committed any other crimes that justify his sentence should be able to make an appeal to be granted his freedom. It needs to be airtight and must contain a punishment for anyone whose request is based on false statements. If not, I reckon half of the Night's Watch will attempt to obtain a pardon. Sam will surely be willing to help you with the exact wording. I want it ready before the next moon."
  
  "And your reform of the Night's Watch?" Sam asked after he had nodded his assent.
  
  "That can wait until the political situation is more stable and we have a better grasp of the threat that the dead still pose beyond the Wall. If anything, we need to strengthen the defenses of the Wall. That reminds me, we have to send an urgent message to the Lord Commander at Castle Black, Cotter Pyke. He needs to lift the restrictions King Baratheon placed on Jaime Lannister at the Wall. The man must be regarded forthwith as an honourable member of the Night's Watch and be given the status of a ranger immediately. Perhaps you should add that he saved the life of King Aegon during the battle near Hardhome and that the King wants Lannister to be given the means to send the King a report once a moon."
  
  "I'll see to it that the raven leaves immediately after the official announcement has been made later today. I will draft it and Davos can check its contents before I send it out." Sam offered.
  
  "Thanks, Sam." Davos and Jon said simultaneously and Jon smiled.
  
  "We make a good team." Jon added.
  
  "When it is time to send them out, you can also dispatch the ravens we prepared for the Lord Paramounts and the Wardens so that they in turn can spread the word to all their bannermen. Don't forget Yara Greyjoy. Also send one to the Citadel explaining all the changes. You will have to add the particulars of the new House Seaworth. If Davos doesn't have an idea for a sigil yet, add that you will send more particulars regarding the new Lordship at a later date."
  
  "I'll need to think on that for a bit. " Davos answered when both men turned to him with a questioning look on their faces. "The only thing I know is that it will have to refer to seafaring, perhaps a boat, an anchor or another nautical symbol. Give me some time to come up with a name for my keep and words for my new house as well. The only thing I know for sure is that I will choose to build the keep near a bay so I can add a small dock." He smiled deprecatingly.
  
  Jon returned his smile and gestured to Sam who nodded.
  
  "Then I will only add what we already know and promise to send the missing information later. May I offer my congratulations, my Lord Davos of House Seaworth." Sam's eyes twinkled.
  
  Davos bowed. "I thank you, most honourable Lord Samwell of House Tarly."
  
  Davos frowned when he made his next observation. "It will get even more crowded in the capital. What with the tournament already and now even more Lords need to come to King's Landing to swear allegiance to you before the Court."
  
  "The message states that they have six moons to do that." Jon pointed out. "Not everyone can leave at the same time. Some bannermen need to stay behind so business can go on as planned and no lands are unprotected. Robb will only be able to come once his father returns to Winterfell."
  
  "Theoretically, Robb doesn't need to swear fealty, Jon. He is bound by his father's word." Sam was quick to clarify.
  
  "I know, but I am certain my cousin will want to visit the capital. I'll write to him as soon as I find the time. Perhaps I can find a spare moment later this evening." He shook his head and concentrated on the business at hand. "There are two more urgent messages I will need you to send out without delay."
  
  "Okay," Sam dipped the tip of his quill in the black ink.
  
  "First, write to Maester Pylos and ask him to release the twenty men we were keeping prisoner on Dragonstone. He can tell them they have a choice, either swear allegiance to us and be allowed to stay on Dragonstone or be put on a boat heading toward the Stormlands."
  
  Jon noticed Davos' frown but continued. "Ask the Maester to look for any living kin of Jaremy Rykker. As far as I know, no representatives of House Rykker have arrived in the capital. I want to know what happened to the family of the man that lost his life trying to save mine. I want them to know that Jaremy died an honourable death and I am willing to help them if they are in need."
  
  "Why ask Maester Pylos and not Lord Varys?" Davos asked.
  
  "I want the Maester to feel that he is being included. I want to make amends for not trusting him earlier."
  
  "Do you really think allowing twenty able men to return to the Stormlands is wise, Jon?" Davos raised his concern in respectful manner.
  
  "I am confident none of them will choose that option. I talked with each of them at several opportunities. I think I convinced them that they will all be accepted back into the community on my island. They have been apprised of the fair treatment and help their kin still living on Dragonstone received during their imprisonment. I am willing to bet you that they will all choose to swear allegiance to us and return to their homes and families."
  
  "Then I will put my trust in you as well, my King." Davos was quick to agree. Jon was glad to notice that the worried look had left his Hand's face.
  
  "And the other message?" Sam asked flexing his hand.
  
  "Secondly," Jon resumed as if there had been no interruption, "write to Lord Manderly that he might consider joining the ship carrying my entourage south. Inform him of the date that we expect the ship carrying Lady Brienne of Tarth, Lord Edric of House Dayne and Lord Loras of House Tyrell will reach White Harbour. But start with informing him of the abdication and my new status of King of Westeros. Otherwise the man will have a seizure when he reads the signature." A small smile lit Jon's features.
  
  Sam looked up. "Ser Davos mentioned the tournament. What will you decide about that?"
  
  Jon smiled. "I talked it through with Ser Gerold. It will take place. We just need to see how quickly it can all be arranged. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell can enter the melee. Ser Arthur regrets that they have not been able to practice the joust for several years."
  
  "Do you really loose such a skill?" Davos asked. "Perhaps they should train a bit before making a decision."
  
  "I'm not sure there will be enough time for that. Besides I told them there would be another tournament next year, or maybe sooner if Dany and I," Jon blushed.
  
  "A royal birth would be an excellent excuse to hold a tournament." Davos as always needed only half a sentence to understand Jon.
  
  "Exactly," Jon confirmed Davos statement. "If Dany and I are not blessed thus by then, it can be the one year anniversary of our marriage and reign. Anyway I agreed that they better refrain from entering the joust unless they were at their best. They have a reputation to uphold."
  
  "Well, now that you are King, they will certainly heed your advice." Davos winked.
  
  "Don't mock your King." Jon chastised him but his eyes danced with mirth. "As a punishment you can think of an excuse to still go through with the tournament when Robert Baratheon's imminent death becomes public knowledge. It must all be handled in such a way that they can't accuse us of disrespect."
  
  A knock startled the men. Ser Arthur entered. "Your Grace, a message from Howland Reed."
  
  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Lord Howland Reed's messages could contain the most unexpected things at times.
  
  "Thank you, Ser Arthur. Please stay a moment. Perhaps you will need to hear this." Jon took the scroll Ser Arthur held out to him.
  
  He then proceeded to break the seal and quickly scanned the message. At first a wide smile lit his features but it was soon replaced by a deep frown.
  
  "Uncle Benjen is on his way here. Lord Reed writes that he will set a new record. He changes horses as much as possible and races for King's Landing. He travelled past Greywater Watch two days ago."
  
  "As long as he arrives safely, that is rather welcome news, isn't it? Why are you frowning, Jon?" Davos asked the young King.
  
  "Lord Reeds writes that Uncle Benjen felt no longer welcome at Winterfell. That Robb sort of made him leave." Jon looked upset with his cousin.
  
  "I'm sure there is an explanation. Perhaps you should show this message to Lord Stark." Sam offered.
  
  "I certainly will. At the speed he is travelling..." Jon stopped and looked at Davos. "How long can we delay the coronation and the marriage?"
  
  "The coronation is only symbolic. A show you will put on for the people and the Faith of the Seven. You are the King and can exert your authority as such without the ceremony. I'd say you have some leeway here. Where your marriage is concerned, well better consult the Princess before taking a decision any which way. I won't get between the two of you again. Last night was enough for me. She will keep you on your toes, Jon."
  
  "Dany will understand that I would strongly prefer for Uncle Benjen to be present at our wedding. I am not keen on delaying until Lady Brienne, Loras and Edric get here. They still have a long way to go. But we might be able to give a few more Lords the opportunity to reach the capital in time. I want a daily update of which Lords are in the capital and which ones have announced their imminent arrival. I'll talk to Dany about it and we will make a decision in a couple of days."
  
  "That sounds more like it. Start using 'we' more often from now on, son. Then you will have a better chance at marital bliss." Davos was glad to see Jon's eyes light up.
  
  "Now what does one do if one needs to eat in a royal palace?" Jon asked startling his Hand who had thought his King would have been distracted considering the dreamy expression that had appeared on the young man's face when Davos had referred to his upcoming marriage.
  
  Not long after, they were all installed in a private dining room. The three knights proudly wore their Targaryen armour marked with the personal sigil of King Aegon. Their pristine white cloaks completed the legendary would soon get used to seeing the familiar three headed dragon sigil combined with the head of a direwolf looking up at the dragons. The blacksmith Jekken had been the one ordered to make many such badges since Gendry had been too busy forging dragonglass weapons. Furthermore, two large banners had been pinned to the side walls of the luxurious space.
  
  Before the first course had been served, a group of servants had been ushered inside and they had all kneeled and sworn their allegiance to King Aegon. The head of the household had been tasked by Ser Gerold to provide a list of names and backgrounds on all the servants allowed within the walls of the Red Keep. That list would be a means to keep track of the ones that had sworn allegiance. No others were allowed in the presence of the new King and his entourage.
  
  Ser Gerold had started doing the same with every guard in the inner Keep first and would tackle the rest of the stronghold later. These first few days would be very busy ones for all of them. He had already asked Lord Stark to be allowed to have his most loyal men assist him for the time being. Ser Gerold would not rest until he had the Royal Guard up and running. All he had been able to do on Dragonstone was draw lists of capable men he knew from before. Now he needed to evaluate the valour of the younger men that would come forward when word got out that the Royal Guard was recruiting.
  
  They were halfway through their meal when Prince Oberyn burst in flanked by Princess Daenerys. "Safe and sound into your hands I deliver her, your Grace." He bowed and winked at Jon when he righted himself. Sam sitting next to Jon, immediately rose from his seat and offered it to Daenerys. He quickly took another seat a bit further down the table. Jon nodded his thanks first to Prince Oberyn and then to Sam. He rose from his chair and assisted Dany when she took her place at his side. Jon quickly sat down again and raised his cup, but Dany was the first to speak.
  
  "Congratulations, your Grace." She smiled and raised the cup a servant had quickly filled up for her. Then she leaned closer to him. "Not the way I wanted to say that." Her voice was now no more than a whisper.
  
  "Too many witnesses. Luckily there is always later. Hold on to your intentions till then," Jon whispered back to her, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. Out loud he said. "Thank you, Daenerys. Now let us enjoy our first meal in King's Landing."
  
  Jon and Dany entered the empty throne room from a side door. Only Ser Gerold was already there and had clearly been awaiting their arrival. Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur had been their guides and guards during the long walk to this part of the keep. Neither Jon nor Dany were familiar with the endless hallways of the Red Keep.
  
  "What do you think, Dany?" Jon asked as they were studying the Iron throne with their own eyes for the very first time.
  
  She looked at him and was hesitant to give her opinion. "I don't know. It looks uh not very uh accommodating for the person who needs to sit on it. It almost looks as if it has all been thrown together rather hastily and they didn't take the time to smooth the edges."
  
  Jon who had been staring into her eyes while she spoke shifted his eyes and examined the throne once more. "I didn't realise the seat was so high up. The throne is an important symbol though. I don't think it would send the right message to melt it down."
  
  He climbed the steps, careful not to strain his right leg too much. When his eyes were finally at level height with the seat of the throne, he reached with his hand to test one of the more dangerous looking edges of a sword that stuck out of the iron construction. A surprised look flitted over his face. He touched it again.
  
  "The edges are blunt." He exclaimed. "No need to worry about me. I won't get cut by them."
  
  "They are not blunt." Ser Gerold protested. "The Mad King, uh forgive me your Grace, your grandfather, King Aerys II repeatedly cut himself on this throne. He even got the nickname King Scab because his arms and legs were always covered with scabs and half-healed wounds from cuts caused by blades that stuck from the throne."
  
  Dany quickly mounted the steps and stood beside him eying the more dangerous looking ones. "They sure look sharp to me." She commented and carefully touched an edge of a blade. "Ouch". She lifted her finger and showed Jon the small cut. Without thinking, Jon quickly brought it to his mouth to suck in the drop of blood that had appeared.
  
  Jon looked beseechingly at her and then at Ser Gerold. He pressed her hand tightly between his calloused palms. "I did not trick her. I told the truth." He turned his head again and eyed the Iron Throne with dismay. "Don't tell me this... thing is imbued with magic as well."
  
  Ser Gerold looked on with astonishment as nothing happened when Jon freed one of his hands from Dany's and touched the blade at the exact same spot where Princess Daenerys had hurt her finger.
  
  "Ser Oswell, ask Samwell Tarly to join us for a moment." Ser Gerold's brusque command resounded through the empty throne room.
  
  "He is assisting Lord Seaworth with listing and shortly interviewing the nobles that are to attend his Grace's first audience in the throne room." Ser Oswell remarked.
  
  "I'm sure whatever this is, it can wait. We'll try to find out more later, Ser Gerold," Jon addressed his Lord Commander with a firm voice. He released Dany's hand and turned to face his Kingsguards.
  
  "Somewhere in this large Keep there must be some formal ceremonial chairs for the King and Queen when they hold court or attend a feast. Bring them in here and put them on some tables or something so they will be visible even from the back of the room. Dany and I will use them to receive the Lords and Ladies side by side."
  
  "My King, these nobles have come to swear their allegiance. You should be sitting on the throne for that part. It is already too bad that there is no crown for you to wear for now."
  
  "But there is." Ser Arthur spoke up now. "He can wear the crown of the Prince of Dragonstone. And we brought the ceremonial coat with the beautiful ermine collar. He will look the part."
  
  "Is there a matching one for the Princess?" Jon asked taking Dany's hand in his again and pulling her closer to his side.
  
  "We still have the crown of her mother, the Princess Rhaella and I am sure we will find a matching coat for her." Ser Arthur looked at Ser Gerold but this time his voice had sounded unsure. Ser Gerold seemed hesitant as well.
  
  "Permission to fetch these items?" Ser Arthur quietly asked his Lord Commander.
  
  Jon didn't pay attention to Ser Gerold's response. He seated himself on the throne and carefully guided Dany down until she was installed on his left thigh. He gave her a quick peck on her cheek. "So my future Queen, I gather you don't like our throne?"
  
  Dany giggled and quickly gave him a chaste kiss on his lips. "I might grow to like it if you are shielding me from its more dangerous edges."
  
  "I'll always shield you, Dany." He promised, his dark eyes gazing into her purple once with a sincere and serious look. Then he scanned the room and let his eyes wander over his Kingsguards who were standing way below them. "We certainly look down on our subjects from up here. It is not as I expected it to be at all." He confessed quietly so she alone could hear.
  
  "Then change it. But not today. Better wait a year or so. After you have a firm grip on Westeros and have earned the respect of your people, then you can make any changes you deem fit."
  
  " Our people and we'll make any changes we want." Jon corrected her and gave her another quick kiss on her lips.
  
  Ser Gerold coughed. "My King, I am going to let the servants enter with the Targaryen ornaments they found in the cellars beneath this room. Perhaps you should come down. I just got word that Davos and Sam are almost ready with the list of the attendees for your first audience. I advise you to retreat through the side door for a while. Ser Arthur will be back any moment now with the crown and coat."
  
  In the end Jon had listened to Davos and Sam who had joined their voices to his Lord Commander's and had ascended the throne. A beautiful chair with red velvet had been fetched and placed to the right side of the Iron Throne. Princess Daenerys stood before it, Ser Barristan next to her. She did not wear a crown. Once more Jon had given in. This time because Dany had been in full agreement with his advisers. She was not a Queen until their marriage had taken place in the Sept. For now all parties agreed that it was best to adhere to the established Court protocol as strictly as possible. It would make the unexpected change in power a bit easier to swallow for the people of Westeros if they could fall back on rules they were all familiar with and had lived by for centuries.
  
  Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur guarded the stairs that lead to the throne where Jon had taken his place stately dressed up, a modest golden crown adorned with red rubies on his head. He smiled self-consciously at Dany when the doors opened and the Nobles present in the capital started pouring into the Throne room. He straightened his postured and put on what he hoped was something resembling a stately face.
  
  Jon recognised several that had come to greet him on Dragonstone. Many others he had never seen before. He was glad that court protocol demanded that each one was announced to him with name title and where their seat was located before they were allowed to swear allegiance. He could guess some of the names of their houses if they wore a large enough sigil or carried a banner, but from his position high upon the throne some of the smaller sigils were difficult to discern.
  
  The Lady Olenna Tyrell, her son and goddaughter, Lord Mace and Lady Alerie whom he knew to be a relative of Ser Gerold were easily recognisable. They had been able to secure a spot on the second row. Lady Olenna had looked at Jon with interest but had narrowed her eyes when she had studied the Princess next. Jon's aversion to her took on a new dimension. He now believed that the things Prince Oberyn had told him had not all been exaggerations as Jon had initially presumed. Perhaps he should ask the others to share their opinions of the Queen of Thorns with him in more detail.
  
  Jon tried not to squirm when all eyes were fixed on him. Everyone was staring at the young Targaryen King as one would study a new species of animal that had been caught in the wilds. Nobody made even the slightest effort to disguise their curiosity. This audience was already significantly different than the one at his first public appearance on Dragonstone. The people here were not unconditionally predisposed to like him. He felt the critical gaze of many a noble eying him boldly, trying to find fault. Or more likely they were looking for a weakness so they could reap some benefit from this unexpected political shift. At least that was Jon's perception at that moment and it matched with what he had been taught about the political power games that were being played in the capital all the time.
  
  Finally the large doors fell shut. Ser Gerold bumped the floor with a large staff. The low murmurs stopped and all eyes turned toward the Lord Commander only to shift slightly to his left where Davos started to unroll the copy of the important scroll. The newly proclaimed Lord of House Seaworth waited until absolute silence reigned over the hall before he started to speak.
  
  "My name is Lord Davos of House Seaworth. I stand before you today to read to you the last royal decree Lord Robert of House Baratheon issued when he still had the authority of King of the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Baratheon is confined to his bed due to the injuries sustained while on a boar hunt more than a sennight ago now. It is on his express demand that his last royal decree is read out loud before the Court today. He also wished to convey his regret that he cannot attend this gathering himself. Had his health had allowed for it, he would have pledged his support to the new King before the entire court."
  
  Some outburst could be heard but were quickly shushed by the majority of the audience who were curious to hear the rest of Lord Seaworth's speech.
  
  Again Davos waited patiently until he had the full attention of all the nobles present. Then he proceeded to read the content of the scroll out loud.
  
  He raised the volume of his voice even higher when he read the last paragraph.
  
  "All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk."
  
  When he read the names of the signatories next his voice had regained a more normal level.
  
  "Signed by Lord Robert of House Baratheon and the following witnesses: Prince Oberyn of House Martell, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord Yohn of House Royce, Lord Varys, Ser Gerold Hightower, and myself ."
  
  He dropped the scroll and looked at his audience repeating at the top of his voice, "All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen."
  
  The Targaryen supporters lead the chant: "All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen!"
  
  A few looked around a bit hesitant but since they were clearly in the minority they all followed when several lords dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
  
  Jon rose from his seat Ser Gerold pounded the staff on the ground again to get everyone's attention. Their silence was rewarded by hearing the young King speak up for the first time.
  
  "Please rise noble folk of Westeros. I am honoured that you have all come before me to swear fealty to House Targaryen and recognise me as your rightful King. Let me introduce you again to Lord Davos of House Seaworth, but now in the capacity of Hand of the King. I want everyone to know that Lord Seaworth speaks for me and everyone who swears his allegiance to me will be bound to obey him as well."
  
  Jon gestured to Lord Davos to proceed and sat back down.
  
  "My Lords, the King will be accepting your vows of allegiance after the following proclamations. But first we are happy to announce that not only has the rightful heir come forward and claimed his birthright, a Princess of House Targaryen has also returned to our shores. You stand in the presence of Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen trueborn daughter of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella."
  
  Princess Daenerys rose from her seat and nodded her head a ceremonial smile gracing her face.
  
  Davos coughed loudly to let them know that his announcement was not finished yet. "I am also honoured to make known the betrothal of his Grace, King Aegon the Sixth of his Name with Princess Daenerys. A date for the wedding will be announced later."
  
  Now loud exclamations could be heard throughout the room. Not all well wishes, some were expressions of surprise or thinly veiled expressions of dismay. Jon made a point to stare Lady Olenna down until she averted her eyes. He gathered she was trying to discern his motivations for this betrothal. It wouldn't matter if she did. It had been announced before the Court. There was no taking it back without causing a scandal.
  
  "Next the King asked me to let it be known that the former Prince Renly of House Baratheon has received a full royal pardon. He will return to Storm's End as a Lord. House Baratheon no longer ruling the Seven Kingdoms will forthwith revert to being a noble house of Lords and Ladies. The head of House Baratheon retains his position of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."
  
  "Also His Grace, King Aegon wants to express his thanks in public to House Stark and its allies that have protected him and given him shelter for many years, endangering their own loved ones while doing so. House Stark and consequently the North supported and financed all the actions that led to this day. Therefore effective immediately the Northern most Kingdom will be recognised as a Principality. All male members of House Stark will forthwith carry the title of Princess of the North, all female members are now Princesses of the North."
  
  Ser Gerold needed to intervene once more but this time it had little effect. Jon rose from his seat and held up his hand. When this didn't silence the crowd immediately he clapped his hands twice. Immediately all eyes fell on him and the desired effect was achieved.
  
  Jon made a small gesture to Davos making it clear he would like speak first. "My Prince," Jon nodded in the direction of Prince Oberyn who stood prominently in the middle of the first row of the audience. Then his eyes drifted over the rest of the nobles. "My Lords, my ladies, let me take over from my Hand for a moment. He needed to make another announcement but I will gladly take that task upon myself."
  
  He looked down at his Kingsguard. "I am proud to reintroduce to you the loyal Kingsguards of House Targaryen. Three of them not only survived the Rebellion but were instrumental in keeping their King safe until the opportunity was there to reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen without bloodshed. You see before you Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of the Royal guard, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard and Ser Barristan Commander of the Dragonguard."
  
  "You have all come here today to witness House Targaryen claim its rightful place again and are given an opportunity to swear fealty to me as your new King. Those of you willing to do so before the Court in the presence of witnesses, will retain their titles and lands. Lord Seaworth to whom I owe my thanks for agreeing to be my Hand after years of serving me faithfully, will read out loud the names of those who have already gone before you."
  
  Jon sat back down and Davos quickly opened the scroll that Ser Gerold handed him.
  
  "The following nobles have already pledged their sword and loyalty to King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk:
  
  The Warden of the North, Lord Eddard of House Stark, henceforth known as Prince Eddard of House Stark; the Regent of the Vale, Lord Yohn of House Royce. Prince Oberyn of House Martell has pledged his personal support and is confident the ruler of Dorne will soon follow his example. Next on the list is Lord Varys, the former Master of Whispers, who will take on the same position under the rule of King Aegon. Lord Wyman of House Manderly also deserves a special mention. He has been one of King Aegon's loyal advisers and has officially been named the Master of Ships. All the men I mentioned just now including myself have been offered a position on King Aegon's small council."
  
  He coughed twice to avoid the murmurs from growing louder. The following persons have sworn their allegiance by letter and will come to the capital at their earliest convenience to confirm so in person: the Warden of the West, Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord Hoster Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident. The ruler of the Iron Islands, Lady Yara of House Greyjoy. And last but not least Lord Howland of House Reed and House Celtigar of the Driftmark who deserve an honourable mention for having fostered our King at respectively Greywater Watch and the Driftmark.
  
  Ser Gerold knocked the staff on the ground twice to put on end to the murmurs of the crowd who had started up again when Prince Oberyn's allegiance was mentioned only to multiply when they heard Lord Tyrion Lannister's name being called. Many had fallen silent when Lord Seaworth proclaimed Yara Greyjoy ruled the Iron Islands and recognised King Aegon as her sovereign. Jon took in all their reactions and wondered if they thought him young and naïve to trust King Robert's former Master of Whispers enough to grant him the same position on his small council.
  
  Davos eager to finish the part he needed to play spoke up again. "Many bannermen of the Crownlands, several of Dorne, the Riverlands and the North have sworn their allegiance to Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone and will now renew their vows to King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name. Each male present here today, representing a noble house of Westeros will get his turn to come before the King. Please do so in an orderly manner. Each one of you may approach upon receiving a signal from Ser Oswell."
  
  Jon stood again and the long and repetitious swearing of the oaths took place. Jon felt a bit uneasy looking down on everyone but kept his voice firm each time he accepted a vow and spoke the words that were expected from him. The only highlight was the fact that Lady Olenna needed to let her son represent House Tyrell and witness him struggle awkwardly through the ceremonial words. She had to keep her distance and could only follow her son out of the room when he had finished. Prince Oberyn winked and the young King relaxed his shoulders. That small gesture allowed him to continue with the tedious ceremony his heart a bit lighter.
  
  House Tyrell had been the only house ruling a Kingdom that had not been included in the list of nobles who had already made known that they acknowledged King Aegon's reign. He was sure the Queen of Thorns had felt the slight most keenly. Soon she would become even more aware of the fact that she had not done her house a service by her blatant ambitious behaviour and that she owed it to her grandsons and to them alone that house Tyrell was still a ruling house.
  
  "We should have announced that you will not accept any private audiences your first sennight." Ser Davos sighed. "More than half of the houses have asked to be granted a private interview." They had all retreated to the room where the former Kings held their small council meetings.
  
  "We'll announce it in court tomorrow when we receive the next group of nobles to swear allegiance." Jon suggested. "Unless there are requests on your list that I can't in good faith turn down?"
  
  "You might consider receiving the elderly Lord Celtigar." Sam looked up from the scrolls that were lying before him. "He asked for permission to return to Claws Isle as soon as possible. He brought the axe you requested."
  
  "Can we make time for him tomorrow or will that set a precedent and make us unable to turn down the other requests?" Jon looked at Davos and Varys for advice.
  
  "Don't second guess yourself, Jon. You are the King. If you have a reason to grant Lord Celtigar an audience for personal reasons, then by all means go ahead. They are a minor house anyway and nobody will suspect anything remiss by granting them an audience. Most likely they will ascribe it to their kinship with your foster-grandparents."
  
  "That is not common knowledge." Jon's protest sounded weak to his own ears.
  
  "It is now that it was proclaimed before the entire court. Your Grace, even if we had omitted that part, everything about you will be common knowledge in a matter of days." Varys cautioned the young King.
  
  "Everything?" Jon looked uneasy when he addressed his Master of Whispers.
  
  "Everything except your most private dealings. You are smart enough to know what I meant. It is no longer a secret that you lived at the Driftmark for several years. The island will prosper. The number of visitors will only increase further."
  
  "So to get back to the matter at hand," Jon now addressed everyone present. "You all agree that I can safely allow the Celtigars an audience with Princess Daenerys, Lord Seaworth and myself on the morrow and still refuse to see any others until at least a sennight will have passed. Can I see the list of the houses that asked for a private audience?" He looked at Dany who smiled and signaled that she would be present.
  
  Sam handed him a long list.
  
  "Why is there an asterisk before House Tyrell?" Jon asked Davos, seeing that that line was written by his Hand.
  
  "Because they were most insistent. Lord Mace tried to temper his mother's speech several times to no avail." Davos answered and turned to Daenerys. "I hope you weren't offended when I stated that the male representatives come forward, Princess."
  
  "Not at all, Lord Davos." Princess Daenerys was quick to respond. "Aegon explained it to me shortly before the meeting started. Since there were no houses present today that were represented by a Lady, you made use of the word 'male' to further irritate Lady Olenna of House Tyrell. A bit petty perhaps, but I understand your frustration with her."
  
  "How do we answer House Tyrell's demand for an audience?" Jon asked no one in particular.
  
  "As far as I am concerned, you need not give in to any of the petitioners, Aegon." Prince Oberyn offered his opinion. "Let the Tyrells just as all the other Lords bring their matters before the Court. That is safer. It will make them think twice on how they formulate their demands. You would do well not to take on Lady Olenna in private, certainly not now. Let her cool down a bit first." The Dornish Prince was serious this time and eyed the young King with a concerned expression on his face.
  
  Jon returned his gaze and nodded thoughtfully. "I appreciate your advice, Oberyn. And please be assured, if ever I grant her house a private audience, I will have at least two or more of my advisers present in the room. Private means only that they can speak to me and my entourage without the other Houses hearing what they have to say."
  
  "I offer my time and presence gladly if ever you grant House Tyrell an audience in some distant future." Oberyn's eyes had regained some of their mischief.
  
  "Only if I intend to refuse what they are offering. Somehow I think you would not be an asset in case I needed to obtain something from them."
  
  Oberyn covered his heart with both hands and pretended to stagger backwards. "Now you hurt my sensibilities, my most esteemed Sovereign. I would be of tremendous help to you. I would make sure they helped you without asking for disproportionate favours in return, my young King. When have I ever not been an asset to you?" He pouted in an exaggerated manner.
  
  "It is better the two of us discuss that in private later. Perhaps you can spare me a few moments after this meeting is finished?" Jon's tone was serious when he addressed the Dornish Prince.
  
  "I am your servant, Aegon." Oberyn bowed but Jon could almost hear the Prince thinking out loud. For once Oberyn didn't know what to expect from a conversation.
  
  "Now back to the matter at hand. No private audiences for the foreseeable future with the exception of House Celtigar. Davos, prepare a statement to announce that. You can add that when the major part of the oath-takings are behind us, say in two days, we will hold Court at regular times. I propose every other day for a start. They can bring their requests to me during those sessions."
  
  "And I'll deliver a written answer to every house on this list." Sam sighed.
  
  "Can't you get some assistants to help you with the copying of messages, Sam?" Jon asked.
  
  "Perhaps I can organise that." Lord Varys offered. "I have several 'retired' little birds that seek employment and have learned to write. They have served me faithfully for several years and are loyal to a fault."
  
  "Make it happen, Lord Varys. Thank you, that is very helpful." Jon nodded his approval. "They can help with the less confidential matters."
  
  He looked around. "I think that is enough for today. Let us hold a small council meeting tomorrow morning. Afterwards, I'll pay Robert Baratheon a short visit, in the afternoon more vows of allegiance in the throne room and then I suggest we hold a formal dinner to which we invite a first delegation of nobles who swore allegiance. Tonight I want a private dinner, just me, Dany, Davos, Uncle Ned and Sam. Any talk of politics will be strictly forbidden. Afterward I am going to try and connect with Rhaegal and Viserion and bring them to the Dragon Pit. Has that been prepared?"
  
  "All will be ready by tomorrow afternoon, your Grace." Yohn Royce spoke up. "To be honest, I must tell you that I am having trouble finding another location that is suitable for the melee. That site was perfect."
  
  "Why didn't you tell me?" Jon turned to Davos. "Are there caves along the beaches of King's Landing that are big enough to shelter my dragons? If I am being honest, I did not like the suggestion of the Dragon Pit as a home for the dragons all that much in the first place."
  
  "There might be, most likely along the beaches bordering the Kingswood." Lord Varys looked at the three knights who all looked a little out of depth.
  
  Jon didn't hide his enthusiasm. "That sounds like a far better location for Rhaegal and Viserion. A large open space, beaches and I believe the woods are rather vast. Lord Royce, can you send some men to investigate the area tomorrow, please? If they find a suitable location, the melee can still take place in the Dragon Pit."
  
  "I'll send riders out at first light. I'll confer with Lord uh Prince Stark." Lord Royce promised.
  
  His uncle nodded his head. Jon had noticed that the new Prince of the North had been more taciturn than usual. The man seemed preoccupied. He made a mental not to find time to speak with his uncle in private. He smiled at Lord Royce.
  
  "Excellent, then we can delay the rest of the topics and discuss them at our first official small council meeting tomorrow morning. Since my injury does not permit me to attend a training session yet, we can start right after I reviewed the new messages and we have all broken our fast. Do not mention anything to Maester Pycelle should he accost you. His position will be an item to be addressed at the meeting... that we will hold without him."
  
  One by one the men left the room until only Prince Oberyn and Jon remained. Jon intercepted Ned Stark in the doorway and asked him whether he was willing to join him in his quarters later. When his uncle nodded his assent, Jon promised that a servant would fetch him as soon as it was convenient. His uncle bowed slightly and closed the door behind him. Jon immediately turned to face Prince Oberyn.
  
  "How can I be of service, Aegon?" Prince Oberyn had installed himself in a cosy chair and had stretched his legs out in front of him. A full cup of wine stood on a small table within easy reach. "What a dull afternoon. I liked the excitement of the morning better." The Dornish Prince commented when Jon stayed silent. "I never heard so many nobles stammer on one single occasion."
  
  Jon ignored that statement and spoke up. "Oberyn, I mentioned before how grateful I am for all the services you have rendered me over the last few years, even if some of them were rather unconventional ones."
  
  "I sense a but coming." Prince Oberyn lost all pretense of nonchalance.
  
  Jon tried to find the right tone. "Not as much a but, as the fact that I want to be informed of all the schemes you still have in progress to advance my cause. I might have been able to soothe my conscience and tell myself I could not know everything that my allies were doing on my behalf before. But now that I am King, I can be held responsible for the actions of my subjects. According to public opinion all those who have sworn their allegiance to me act on my orders. If some questionable action of yours come to light, there are only two possibilities, either I ordered them and am guilty or I didn't and have to concede that I do not have my entourage in hand."
  
  "Sometimes it is better not to know all, Aegon. It is still plausible that your subjects acted without your knowledge or approval, you know. It is not a shame if you have to confess that you did not know what I was doing. My reputation precedes me. People would believe you and sympathize with you."
  
  "Perhaps, but then they would also expect me to punish you. Will you tell me what you have been putting in motion lately? Let's start with Willas Tyrell, shall we?" Jon saw Prince Oberyn's eyes narrow.
  
  "Varys told you?"
  
  Jon neither affirmed nor denied. "Lord Stark received a raven from Riverrun. They said Lord Willas of House Tyrell needed to change his itinerary and from there, it was easy to find traces of your hand in matters."
  
  "Varys did tell you." Prince Oberyn nodded thoughtfully. "Clever man, he would have known that it was time to ask for your cooperation for the second phase of that plan anyway."
  
  When Prince Oberyn stopped talking, Jon couldn't help but gaze at the Prince in wonder. He knew they had talked about his plans to betroth Myrcella to Lord Willas of House Tyrell on Dragonstone but how in the hells had the Prince been able to set a plan in motion with such speed. Jon was not sure what to think of that. Meanwhile Oberyn drank from his cup as if he had not a care in the realm. Jon took a deep breath and attempted to exude some authority.
  
  "I concede that your interference in this instance worked out for the best and made us gain substantial time. However now I feel compelled to apologize to Lord Willas of House Tyrell for the unorthodox manner in which he was persuaded to change is destination. In future, I would like to be informed before you put such schemes in motion. That way I might still have a chance to moderate them a bit if I deem it necessary."
  
  "Perhaps," Oberyn mimicked Jon's earlier noncommittal way of answering him. His eyes danced with mirth which encouraged Jon to proceed.
  
  "How were you capable of intercepting him at Seagard that fast?" Jon asked. "You could only have come up with the scheme after our small council meeting on Dragonstone."
  
  "During is more accurate." A cocky smile adorned the Dornish Prince's face for a moment. "Intercepting him was simple really. I sent a raven to one of our messengers. You are of course aware that we always have messengers standing by in all corners of your Kingdoms. That was one of your first contributions to our conspiracy if I am correct?"
  
  Jon nodded and gestured for Oberyn to continue. The Prince was only too happy to oblige.
  
  "The only thing I needed to do was to send a raven to our messenger at Seagard with instructions to intercept Lord Tyrell and tell him to change his destination. Now we will have to dispatch the royal decrees you have issued to Lannisport before his meeting with Lord Tyrion of House Lannister."
  
  "And an accompanying letter from my hand personally which expresses my gratefulness for his cooperation and an apology for..."
  
  Oberyn interrupted by waving his hand in a dismissing gesture. "Yes, you told me that part already. Personally, I do not think Willas Tyrell will need an apology but by all means, do what you feel you must, your Eminence." Again the title was uttered mockingly.
  
  "Any other schemes I should know about?" Jon kept his tone light as well. He gathered that was the best way to deal with the Dornish Prince.
  
  The smug expression reappeared on Prince Oberyn's face. "Remember how Lord Reed and our spies suddenly were more successful in gathering information about the goings on in the Stormlands?"
  
  "The red Priestess miscarried, did she not?" Jon looked appalled at the thought that crossed his mind.
  
  "Of course she did." Prince Oberyn was quick to reassure the young man. "I did not murder an innocent babe in the womb of its mother, Aegon. I give you my word of honour. And if you think it through, you know that I speak true. The sequence of events in itself is proof enough. We did not have access to the Stormlands until after her powers diminished. I could only send my men in when she was already weakened. I did take advantage of her situation though and managed to see to it that her recovery has been hampered somewhat. Nothing too harmful, just something that keeps her from recovering fully for the time being. Varys' birds have provided us with useful information ever since. He will tell you all about it during our small council meeting on the morrow."
  
  "Thank you, Oberyn. I apologize for my reaction earlier. It is just, the way that you introduced the topic was somewhat ambiguous. You take delight in shocking me."
  
  "It is one of my guilty pleasures." The Prince admitted readily and took another sip of his wine.
  
  "Still your interference over there has been very helpful. It seems I will learn the full extent of how useful on the morrow. I can hardly wait. Anything else you need to tell me?"
  
  "Aside from a few minor things like harassing Lord Walder of House Frey and the rumours that I am in the process of spreading throughout the Reach and Dorne, it might be worth mentioning that I have tricked my brother into abdicating. But don't worry, as far as I know, he doesn't realise it yet." Oberyn looked like a cat that had just swallowed a very tasty bird.
  
  Jon sat upright. "Do I need to drink a glass of wine first or will I be able to withstand the shock."
  
  "Allow me, Aegon." Oberyn left his chair and found a spare cup on a shelf. He quickly filled it and handed it to the younger man. Then he took his own chalice in his hand and raised it. "Let's toast to obtaining the alliance of Dorne!"
  
  "We did?" Jon's eyes widened in surprise.
  
  "I'll tell you all about it as soon as you reciprocate the toast." Oberyn knew he had him hooked.
  
  Jon raised his glass. "To the Principality of Dorne and the renewal of its pledge of fealty to House Targaryen and the Iron Throne." He took a small sip of wine. "Now tell me?" He asked not concealing his eagerness.
  
  "Only if you drain your cup. The shock you know. I wouldn't want to incur the wrath of Ser Gerold or anyone else of your loyal entourage by endangering the health of their precious King." Prince Oberyn chuckled softly and emptied his own cup as encouragement.
  
  Jon drank deeply. "This is good wine. It is the stronger Dornish wine, is it not?" When Prince Oberyn nodded gleefully, Jon added. "Then I must take care not to drink too much of it at once. Last time I woke up with a terrible headache after almost compromising Dany's virtue on the beach." He stopped and covered his mouth with his left hand aghast at what he had just revealed.
  
  Prince Oberyn's eyes danced with mirth. "I didn't know the wine would have such an immediate effect. Do not blush so readily, Aegon. I am sure it could not have been that bad. If you refer to that night we sat around the bonfire, you walked her home with two faithful shadows chaperoning you. I'm fairly sure that anything that might have happened would have remained very innocent by necessity. Wait until you have been married a fortnight, then I will feed you some more of this wine and we will revisit the subject."
  
  He filled the cup that the younger man had abandoned on the small table. "Here, I only allotted you half a portion this time. No need to accuse me of getting you drunk."
  
  "I think we wandered of topic." Jon's blush had only deepened with Oberyn's further teasing. "I want to finish our conversation in time for dinner."
  
  "All right, I'll try to keep the boasting to a minimum and just tell you what a unique, remarkable, praiseworthy accomplishment I can lay at your revered feet, your Grace." The Prince's grin put a smile on Jon's face as well.
  
  "I'll ask Sam to explain the exact meaning of the words 'to boast' and 'minimum' to you. You might need some help in that department." Jon kept up the banter.
  
  "And you in turn need lessons in keeping on topic and not interrupting significant discussions with very important individuals whose time and services are extremely valuable." Prince Oberyn shot back.
  
  Jon held up both hands in mock surrender. "All right, I give in. I might win in the training yard if ever you are willing to take me up on my repeated offers, but I readily concede that I am no match for you when we spar with words... yet."
  
  "How about a training session tomorrow morning, your Grace?" Oberyn's eyes twinkled and his gaze dropped to Jon's right thigh. "You would bite the dust before you could get two strikes in."
  
  "What can I do to persuade you to obey your King and esteemed Sovereign and spill the beans already?" Jon pretended to exert his royal authority using something resembling an admonishing tone. The amused chuckle he couldn't hold in negated the effect though.
  
  "Threaten me with fire and blood?" For once Oberyn's joke fell flat. "No, ignore that. Here is a faithful account of how we tricked my older brother into abdicating."
  
  Oberyn told him in a few words how Prince Doran's gout had progressed at an alarming rate, a fact they had used to persuade him to sign a decree by which he formally declared his daughter Arianne as his heir. To further convince him to put the obvious in writing, they had referred to the rumours that were the topic of conversation throughout Dorne and had even been heard as far as the Reach. According to those rumours, Prince Quentyn had been spreading lies about how his father wanted him to succeed him as ruler of Dorne but that his sister had burned the royal decree.
  
  Prince Doran effectively handing Arianne an official decree would prevent a civil war after his death. Prince Doran had been swayed and Prince Oberyn had drafted the document personally. His daughter Nymeria had delivered it to Dorne. The Prince boasted he had used invisible ink to conceal some key words that could be rendered visible when treated with a certain substance. Prince Doran had signed his abdication thinking it would take effect only after his death. A few hidden words added to a strategically placed sentence however made all the difference.
  
  "And Princess Arianne is on board with all that?" Jon had retrieved his cup again and was carefully twirling it, admiring the ripples the deep red wine made.
  
  "She is. I might have hinted at a possible betrothal of one of your future children with hers, but nothing in writing. You have full deniability."
  
  "Mmmh. And how will Prince Doran react if, I mean when he finds out?" Jon suddenly lifted his head and looked at the Prince. "Oberyn, when will he find out?"
  
  "That will depend on how he reacts to the raven proclaiming you as King of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon. Don't worry. I have planned for every eventuality. I still hope for the best possible outcome, namely that he will send my niece, Princess Arianne to King's Landing to pledge you Dorne's allegiance and support in his name."
  
  "Where on earth does one learn of the existence of invisible ink?" Oberyn's versatility never ceased to amaze Jon.
  
  "I picked only the more interesting topics to study at the Citadel."
  
  If ever they painted a picture of Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, it would have to be one with that smug smile. It would not be a faithful rendition otherwise, Jon thought. Soon after, he ended the conversation. He still had several things to take care of today.
  
  Jon was a little tipsy and mentally tired from his word games with Prince Oberyn when he retired to his chambers to dress for dinner. He had asked Ser Arthur to check if Prince Eddard had a few moments to spare for him now. He knew his uncle would join him for dinner but he wanted it to be a joyful occasion with as little talk of politics as possible.
  
  "Your Grace?" His uncle announced his arrival at his doorstep.
  
  "Close the door, Uncle. Then we are in private and you can address me as an equal, as your grown up nephew."
  
  His uncle nodded and as soon as the door was firmly closed, he accepted the seat Jon offered him. "What is troubling you, Jon? I thought we would meet at supper."
  
  "I hope to enjoy a relaxing supper in your company, Uncle. Supper should be a short reprieve from politics. That is precisely why I asked you to come here so we have a chance to clear the air beforehand. I am bouncing the question back to you. What is bothering me is that I do not know what is bothering you. I noticed you were somewhat out of sorts after the public audience. It cannot be because of the fact that you are now a Prince. You knew of my plans to make the North a principality for some time now."
  
  His uncle nodded stiffly. "It is not that. It is the fact that you announced in front of the entire Court that you offered me a position on your small council."
  
  "Which you can easily hand over to your younger brother. It would be beneficial for the North to have a representative on the small council, Uncle. And I can't bypass you and offer the position directly to Uncle Benjen. You have first choice. But it remains a free choice. I haven't forgotten our conversation in Robert Baratheon's bedchamber. Do you still intend to return to the North after my coronation and wedding? I must admit that I had hoped that you might stay a bit longer and help us with the transition of power. Davos would greatly benefit from your experience. It will help him to hear about the duties you performed as Hand of King Robert."
  
  "I only acted as Hand for a few moons, Jon." Lord Stark replied in non-committal fashion.
  
  "But you did it well. I will always welcome your advice and support, Uncle. Whatever you decide though, I will not stand in your way. Have you consulted with your Lady Wife?"
  
  Ned sighed. "I don't need to. I know her wishes all too well. She would thrive here in the South. I kind of promised her that she would be allowed to follow me here once your reign was established and it was safe enough for her to venture south. I also might have mentioned that she would be regarded as the second most important women in the realm."
  
  Jon nodded. "I had wondered why she did agree to stay behind without making much of a fuss."
  
  "She was not happy about it. Neither did she spare me her reproofs when I gave my permission to foster Bran at Greywater Watch. But that was nothing compared to the things she wrote to me when Prince Oberyn's thoughtless message arrived containing hints of a possible fostering of Arya in Dorne. Only the distance between Winterfell and the Red Keep kept me from bodily harm then, I am sure." Lord Stark tried to make light of the situation but Jon could see he was not happy about it either.
  
  "Your word trumps Prince Oberyn's in this matter, Uncle. Beside, Aunt Catelyn must have exaggerated. It was just an empty threat. Something to make her accept the swordfighter we hired as a teacher for Arya."
  
  "The Prince is not always as tactful as he should be. My wife needs a certain uh approach. He had better let me handle that business."
  
  Jon nodded. "I'll talk to Prince Oberyn to make sure that he will treat your wife with all the respect she is due when they meet in person. Isn't it better for everyone if you allowed your wife and children to come to the capital, Uncle? That way you would also get to stay here a few more moons." Jon's tone had softened. He would do all he could help his uncle who had left his family and had come to King's Landing moons ago solely for Jon's sake. He saw his uncle waver and attempted to make his proposal even more enticing.
  
  "I will send her a personal invitation and will flatter her. She will be able to boast to all and sundry that she is the only Lady that received a personal invitation from her nephew, the King, who is eagerly awaiting her presence. She is welcome to stay on in the capital after you leave. I mean if you are keen to return to Winterfell before she is ready to head back. But that is for you to decide. I won't interfere in your marital affairs." Even though he could have found a better way of wording this, he hoped his uncle would understand that he only had his best interest at heart.
  
  "I'll think on it, Jon. The only thing I am sure of for now is that Benjen will only be too happy to assume the position on your small council. But I am sure you intended that outcome all along. Otherwise you would have told me that Lord Manderly's position on the small council ensured us that the interests of the North are being looked after." Ned couldn't help the bitterness of his tone from becoming detectable. He would always remain a little jealous of his younger brother's bond with their only nephew.
  
  Jon withheld a sigh and kept a calm demeanor. "I can only repeat that you have first choice, Uncle. Had you agreed to become my Hand next to Davos or accepted a position on the small council, I would have easily found another useful occupation for Uncle Benjen. I won't deny that I am ecstatic to learn that he will be here in time to be present at my wedding and coronation ceremony. But to answer your veiled reprimand, I distinctly remember that you once told me that Lord Manderly has many qualities and is a fountain of wisdom when we're talking about trade and ships. When it pertains to matters of the North however, he is not a real Northerner and White Harbour's way of life is very different to the harsh living conditions elsewhere in the North."
  
  His uncle stayed silent and Jon saw him relent as he relaxed in his chair. "I'm sorry, Jon. I didn't mean to sound petty. I need to recover from all the stress of the past several moons. I apologise."
  
  "I understand, Uncle. And to add insult to injury, you are about to bury one of your youth friends. As I said before and more than once, I asked you to perform a very difficult task and you did it for me without hesitating. I will be forever indebted to you." Jon looked very solemn when he spoke his next words in a soft but sincere manner. "Uncle, surely you must know that I looked up to you from a very young age. I worshipped you long before I knew you were my uncle. Never doubt that I greatly esteem and love you."
  
  His uncle was clearly mollified and touched by Jon's words. He swallowed thickly before answering. "That goes both ways, Jon. You have repaid me in full already. The North will prosper because of your decree. I am glad you left out the part about the tax exoneration during the public announcement."
  
  "They will learn that eventually. I thought it preferable not to draw attention to it now."
  
  Both men contemplated each other. "The North is family, Uncle." Jon added quietly. "You are pack. Don't forget that. Pride has no place between us. If ever you need something from me, just ask. If ever you disagree with something, just speak up."
  
  "Same here, Nephew." Eddard Stark rose from his chair and Jon followed suit. His uncle gave Jon a quick hug. "Now make yourself ready. I am hungry." Ned turned to the door.
  
  "Oh, Uncle, before you leave, Dany wanted me to inform you that Lady Ashara of House Dayne will join us for dinner. Dany invited her as a favour to Ser Arthur but also to have another female present. Lady Dayne has expressed the wish to renew your acquaintance."
  
  Jon sighed when his uncle left the room. There had been no opportunity to talk about Robb. His uncle had been in a strange mood and there had not been enough time anyway. He would need to find another opportunity to speak with him in private. He also had refrained from asking him about Lady Ashara's history with the Stark family.
  
  It had not gone unnoticed to Jon that his uncle had startled and grown pale when he had mentioned that she would be present at dinner. Perhaps he was right when he had first guessed that the Lady had never married because she had been in love with his deceased Uncle Brandon. With all that had occurred over the last two days he had forgotten to ask Ser Arthur about that. He would keep his eyes and ears open during dinner. Perhaps he would learn something more. He would ask Dany's opinion when they talked some more after dinner. They had promised to meet each other again before retiring for the night and he already looked forward to it.
  
  Interlude 35: A storm is brewing
  
  Stannis entered the chamber where the Red Priestess could be found at this time of day. It was a room high up in the South tower that had a solar. He had come to notice that she enjoyed the sun on her skin for long periods of time. When he had asked her about that once, she had proclaimed that it was the Lord of Light's way of gifting his energy to her. He enjoyed seeing her lying there naked and always made sure to visit her when the sun was not hidden by the clouds if at all possible.
  
  Melisandre did not startle. He knew she had come to expect his visits, perhaps even craved them. The Red Priestess had no qualms about her nudity. Essosi were different. He would never condone such conduct from his highborn wife. He frowned when he thought of Selyse. She hadn't spoken to him ever since he had refused to allow her to join her daughter in King's Landing. He was certain she had been the one to set Shireen on her way. He had no proof of it and that was a good thing. He was glad none of the men had come forward to betray her. It would have put him in an awkward position.
  
  Selyse had actually done him a favour. The temptation had been great to use his daughter's royal blood to obtain another favour from the Lord of Light. Shireen was the only one left with royal blood except for himself. Melisandre had pointed out that his wife was only a Queen by marriage when he had reluctantly suggested it might be easier to part from her than from his daughter.
  
  At first he had not believed the Red Priestess when she had told him that she could get better visions when she offered royal blood to R'hllor. However, he had not been able to ignore the results that the burning of Edric Storm had yielded. That night Melisandre had given him various visions of the future. And almost all had come to pass. She had not lied to him. He was the chosen one. R'hllor favoured him above all others.
  
  Spies of Lord Varys had been found. Traitors had been detected and punished. As foretold by her visions, powerful men were offering their alliance and his brother had died an untimely death. Ever since his brother's demise had been confirmed, he had proclaimed himself King. He ignored the new decree his brother had issued supposedly free of will. Only a fool would fall for that. Soon the bastard Dragonrider who falsely claimed to be the rightful heir would feel his wrath. He was the true heir. The Lord of Light supported his claim.
  
  He needed the might of the Seven Kingdoms to stop the Darkness. That had been Melisandre's last vision before she had miscarried: the death of her brother and the shift in the prophecy. It was no longer a Prince That Was Promised but a King. A King was necessary to defeat the King of Darkness. One half of the prophecy had already been fulfilled. Now he needed to act, help the Gods to fulfil the other requirement. He needed to gain control of the Seven Kingdoms. He needed to chase away, annihilate, burn, yes burn the false claimant and offer him up to the Lord of Light.
  
  "Your Grace?" Melisandre had been watching the emotions shift on Stannis Baratheon's face and had sensed his growing anger.
  
  "Melisandre." He greeted her and let his eyes rove over her body. She had chastely crossed her legs so he had to be content with admiring her voluptuous breasts and broad hips. "I have come to enquire after your health. Has the Lord of Light been able to reach you yet?"
  
  "Not yet, my King. I can't explain why I am still so weak. The tonic the healer gave me did wonders at first but lately I am starting to despair. I can drink as much as I want but I do not feel one bit better."
  
  Stannis' frown had deepened when he heard these words. His anger already simmering got the better of him when he spotted the pitchers of the liquid. In two swift steps he was close the small table, swept them up and threw them out of the window. Even though Melisandre could not hear them, she could vividly picture the pitchers crashing against the stones and rocks, dropping ever further down until they sank beneath the violent waves of Shipbreaker Bay.
  
  "And here I thought you were smart, woman. Most likely someone switched your tonics. You told me yourself not to trust anyone. I will send you a portion of the food prepared for me by my trusted manservant. Nobody will dare poison my food. I'll visit you again in two days. You better have news for me then."
  
  He turned abruptly, leaving a speechless Melisandre behind.
  
  This time a heavy storm was raging outside when the King showed up for his promised visit. Melisandre could hear the rain and wind hitting the walls of the castle. It was not only the lack of heavenly warmth that occupied her mind. Most likely the next morning would bring the report of yet another fishing boat having gone down with all hands. Melisandre was fully dressed when the King opened the door of her chamber. She could sense his disappointment when he took in her heavy robes. She quickly assumed a sitting position taking care to cover her legs with the folds of her dress.
  
  "My Lady," he greeted her stiffly. "I was told you were doing better."
  
  "I am, thank you, my King. Soon I will be able to go outside and wander about in the gardens. I am itching to make a large bonfire on the beach."
  
  "Has the Lord of Light spoken to you yet?" Stannis Baratheon never lost time with inanities.
  
  "Not clearly but I have been sensing things. Good, bad, my intuition is returning. I am bored as hell though, your Grace. Can you tell me the news of King's Landing?"
  
  "That dragon bastard apparently has Stark blood and the support of every Kingdom north of here. They even claim he has allied himself with Yara Greyjoy who has stolen the Iron Islands from Euron Greyjoy."
  
  "Euron Greyjoy," she repeated the name and a shiver ran over her. "Beware your Grace. I have a bad feeling about him. I will try to ask the Lord of Light for His guidance."
  
  "I don't care about a feeling. I need something more substantial to turn the man down. He has made me a most astounding proposition."
  
  "He is a non-believer, a savage. What can he have to offer your Grace?" Melisandre had been taken aback by his gruff tone.
  
  "A means to subdue a dragon. We will need that if we want to take the throne away from the boy King." Stannis was quick to explain his tone clearly indicating that his mind was mostly made up already.
  
  "I thought you were calling your banners and had tentative offers of alliance from a few Lords of Dorne, the Reach and had even the prospect of support from part of the Riverlands? Do you really need the alliance of an Ironborn?" Apparently she had missed several developments since her confinement. Before, she used to sit in on all his meeting. Now she had to work hard to extract the tiniest piece of information from him. It was high time that she left the confines of this chamber.
  
  "Tentative offers are all I have. I am sure they would be more eager to decide in our favour if there were no dragons to contend with. Nobody wants to face two full grown dragons on a battlefield."
  
  "And you believe this Euron Greyjoy has a means of defeating them? How can that be?" She adjusted the furs behind her head. She had enough of a disadvantage already and did not want to suffer from a stiff neck for days because he loomed over her and she needed to strain her neck to look into his eyes.
  
  "Not to defeat them, something much better. He claims he has this magical object that can control dragons. He will be able to compel them to do his bidding. It won't matter that the boy-usurper has the support of many kingdoms. If the dragons fight on our side, the rest of the Kingdoms will rally to us like bees to honey."
  
  Melisandre studies the man before her for some time. "And now you want me to tell you if Euron Greyjoy speaks the truth. And if so, you are also asking for the blessing of the Lord of Light to involve yourself with dark magic. Do I have that right?" Her voice sounded sharper than she intended.
  
  "It would make me sleep better at night, yes." He was quick to admit.
  
  She knew only too well how he loathed magic and had only started using her services because she had seduced him into it and had luckily provided him with a few small but convincing results almost instantly. "Then come back tomorrow, my King. I will keep vigil before the flames of the fireplace the entire night. I hope R'hllor will have spoken to me before the dawn chases away the darkness tomorrow morning."
  
  That night Melisandre's efforts were rewarded. The Lord of Light showed her a translucently clear vision in the flames. No longer biased by the lust her body had felt for Stannis, she studied the figure in the flames more closely. In a frozen place very far from here it was a much younger man that was battling the Darkness with a magic sword. She had been confused by the flames though. All her visions were surrounded by flames but this time it almost seemed as if the fire was an integral part of the vision. Words formed in her head. 'The true hero's song is one of Ice and Fire. A King to defeat a King'.
  
  Ever since her conversations with Thoros of Myr, feelings of doubt had slowly been creeping up on her until they had consumed her every thought. At first she had cursed the man and blamed him for her miscarriage, for letting her waver in her conviction and faith. Now she knew better. She had wrongly interpreted what had been revealed to her in the flames. Somehow her fascination with Stannis Baratheon had blinded her to the real meaning of what R'hllor had been trying to warn her about. Thoros of Myr had been right. Stannis was a False Prince. She was serving the wrong King. She needed to find a way to leave the Stormlands. She needed to head north. The true hero would travel north when the time was right and she would have to be there to guide him. The True King, born of Ice and Fire would need her assistance. Or more precisely, she would bring him the help of the Lord of Light.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter describes Jon's second day as King of the Seven Kingdoms. In the interlude, Varys and Oberyn are up to their old tricks.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The 2nd day in the reign of King Aegon
  Chapter 36: The second day in the reign of King Aegon
  
  Summary:
  
  The title says it all really.
  
  Notes:
  
  Still publishing without my beta for now.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon was smiling when he dressed the next morning. Ser Arthur had needed to send a maid to fetch his outfit in his chambers where Dany was still asleep. He and Dany had talked till deep in the night until Jon had stopped mid-sentence when he had heard a soft snore. Dany had fallen asleep in his bed, fully clothed, with her head on his chest. He had freed his arm, put her head down and covered her with the bed furs. Then he had fetched Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell who were on guard duty in the hallway. They had agreed to Jon's request to let her stay there and had moved their Prince to a modest room nearby.
  
  Despite being reminded to do so often, Jon had still not chosen a manservant. If it were up to him he would hold off on that as long as possible. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself and he knew that neither Ser Arthur nor Ser Oswell minded very much to help him with some small detail or other. He would miss those private times when he eventually needed to give in.
  
  This morning Ser Arthur was assisting him with putting on his boot on his right foot so Jon would not need to bend that leg too much. When he looked down at Ser Arthur he remembered the conversation he had had with Dany last night about the strange tension that had initially hung over dinner.
  
  Dany had also noticed the tension that had hung around his dinner companions at first. According to her, things had gotten more relaxed as soon as she had engaged Lady Ashara in a conversation and had made her describe the beauty of the lands surrounding Starfall. Jon had admitted he had never seen his uncle that socially inept with a female as he had been during the first part of their meal. Eventually Uncle Ned had recovered enough to join in the conversation and had seemingly overcompensated by entertaining them with the story of how the three Stark brothers had been introduced to Lady Ashara at the infamous tourney of Harrenhal.
  
  Lady Ashara had helped him out by adding a few more details to his tale. She had smiled and had told them how all three Stark brothers had been quick to secure her hand for a dance. She highlighted how a rather young Benjen Stark had been very nervous and oh so very much honoured that she had accepted a dance with him. His uncle had then taken over again and didn't spare his brother's sensibilities when he recounted how the youngest Stark had forgotten the steps of the very simple dance and had tripped over Lady Ashara's feet several times.
  
  Dany had taken note that Lady Ashara had offered no particulars on her dances with either Brandon or Ned Stark. Jon and Dany had speculated about that a bit last night. However, without further information, they were still left guessing whether there had been something going on between Lady Ashara and the handsome Brandon Stark back then or not.
  
  "Ser Arthur, were you aware that my Stark uncles knew your sister?" He asked and was perplexed when he saw the knight stiffen.
  
  "Of course. I was there when they were all were introduced. Why do you ask?"
  
  Ser Arthur's bland reply for some reason made Jon more convinced than ever that they all knew something that he did not.
  
  "Did she favour Uncle Brandon back then?" Jon asked. "Uncle Ned told me often enough how all the ladies admired his elder brother and never really noticed him."
  
  "I will not discuss my sister's past. It is hers alone to reveal. Will that be all, my King?" Ser Arthur having fastened the laces on Jon's right booth rose swiftly and headed for the door.
  
  "I'm sorry, Ser Arthur. Please do not be offended. I won't bring up the subject again." Jon was quick to apologize. He would tell Dany about the knight's strange reaction though. She would not speak to anyone about it if he asked for discretion.
  
  "It is I who should apologize, my King. I only had a few hours of sleep and I am very protective of my sister. She has been gossiped about her entire live and uh well uh I am very protective of her." He finished awkwardly, obviously regretting his abrupt reaction.
  
  "I understand. Please consider this matter closed." Jon was quick to reassure his loyal Kingsguard and friend. Let's head to the room where they serve breakfast in this large place. We are all of us much more diplomatic when we have something in our stomach."
  
  Jon sat at the head of the large table ready to start the first official meeting of his small council. Davos, now Lord Seaworth sat opposite him the farthest away of them all but directly in his line of vision. Sam sat at his right side, Dany at his left. Only after Prince Oberyn, Prince Stark, Lord Royce, and Varys had chosen a seat, did Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur sit down. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell guarded the door from the outside.
  
  Jon smiled at them all. "This is not so different if you compare it to all the other meetings we held, is it? Just perhaps the fact that Prince Stark has agreed to attend."
  
  Davos coughed. "First order of business is to define the members of the small council, your Grace."
  
  "No need for titles, Davos. And yes, that is indeed the first thing we need to make clear. I of course, will take an active part in all meetings for as far as my other duties allow. Lord Seaworth is my Hand, Yohn Royce my Master of Laws, Lord Manderly absent for the time being is my Master of Ships. His presence will not be required often and he can divide his time between the capital and White Harbour. The same applies for Yohn Royce although his presence will be required when a major trial needs a chairman."
  
  Jon took a sip from his cup. Since he had foreseen this meeting would be a lengthy one, he had ordered pitchers filled with fresh water and enough cups to be brought in here before the meeting started.
  
  "Prince Oberyn will represent the interests of the Kingdom of Dorne and has chosen not to take on extra duties, Ser Gerold will attend as Lord Commander of the Royal guard, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan will be allowed to attend these meetings on personal invitation when deemed necessary and the Princess of course may attend at will." He smiled at Dany before continuing.
  
  "An adult member of House Stark may represent the North when in King's Landing. That leaves us with several issues. First, I do not want to use Grand Maester Pycelle's services. If you want me to refrain from calling him an incompetent whoring fool to his face, you will need to come up with a dignified way to give him another duty that keeps him out of my sight. That is one. We will also have to find a competent Master of Coin, and an intermediary solution for the post of Grand Maester, and we have to decide how to ascertain that the other Kingdoms' interests are fairly represented without having the moniker 'small' council no longer fit this meeting."
  
  Varys spoke up. "Grand Maester Pycelle might be persuaded to spend the rest of his days at the Citadel writing a book detailing all his experiences as a Grand Maester. He has served four Kings and wouldn't it be a shame if all that history was lost to posterity. Leave it to me, your Grace. I have ample means of persuading him. He will be on a ship bound for Old Town before you know it."
  
  Jon nodded at his Master of Whispers. "Thank you, Lord Varys. Now for the other issues, how urgent is the appointment of a Master of Coin? I have heard several accounts of Lord Tyrion Lannister having a keen financial mind but I would like to take his measure first before granting him this position. I have sent an ambassador who amongst other things will present him with the legalisation papers for his nephew and niece and will invite him to the come to the capital to swear his allegiance. But he probably won't be here for another three sennights."
  
  "Not an obvious choice but one I could approve of." Prince Oberyn offered his opinion.
  
  "I am not sure that that is a recommendation." Ser Gerold muttered under his breath but loud enough for most to hear.
  
  "He did help us with the allegations of fraud against Littlefinger. He deciphered those ledgers in no time." Jon defended his candidate. He turned to his left. "Uncle Ned, what can you tell us of the current finances of the Crown and the state of our war fund?"
  
  Eddard Stark exchanged a short glance with Varys before answering. "The finances of the Crown are in a deplorable state. Our war fund, well, there is still a rather large reserve but be aware that in the near future that will no longer be replenished as easily as before. Bottom line, as long as you don't start outrageously expensive projects before a Master of Coin has been appointed, you can afford to take your time. With your Grace's permission, I will bring your Hand up to speed on recent events regarding the war fund and the debts the former King left behind after this meeting."
  
  Jon almost rolled his eyes at the formal way they were dealing with each other. He had fond memories of Sandor calling their bullshit when they had been using language not even half as formal as some of the phrases used now. "I thank you, Uncle. That would be appreciated. But can you tell all of us present here how much debt we have inherited from Robert Baratheon's reign? Had not a massive loan from House Lannister recently been uh let's call it 'paid in full' by all the concessions we granted them?"
  
  "There is still the debt with the Iron Bank of Braavos. Luckily it is not that substantial. I am sure we will be able to get an extension if we can prove to them we can not only keep the peace but also improve the way Westeros is governed."
  
  "Peace is not yet assured, Prince Stark." Davos cautioned.
  
  "Can't we repay the debt and be done with it?" Jon asked no one in particular.
  
  "That would be unwise, my King." Varys spoke up now. "Better keep our resources separate. It is better to set our war fund apart from the official finances of the Crown that are noted in the ledger."
  
  "I hate to start my reign with dubious transactions." Jon objected.
  
  "Jon, let's table this discussion for afterward. You know I had to promise never to disclose some things to certain parties." His uncle looked at him with a pleading expression in his dark grey eyes.
  
  Jon pursed his lips and nodded. He exchanged a frustrated look with Davos who took charge.
  
  "Before we proceed to the next topic, does anyone have a better candidate for Maester of Coin to put forward?"
  
  When nobody offered up any names Jon took a deep breath and turned to Sam. "Then we are a Grand Maester short. As high as I rate the invaluable services of Sam, neither the Citadel nor the realm will see this my way. Sam has agreed to complete an important task for me first. Upon completion, he will officially starting the forging of his links at the Citadel."
  
  He smiled reassuringly at his friend and then addressed the room. "I will use my influence to speed up this process for him. He has already gained enough knowledge to take several tests and forge his first links almost immediately upon arrival there. Still we must be realistic. He will be gone for a couple of years. We will need to use the services of another Maester in the meantime, preferably one willing to serve me without gaining the title of Grand Maester and stepping aside once Sam completes his chain."
  
  "What about Maester Pylos?" Dany offered timidly. "I know you all ignored him most of the time on Dragonstone but I spoke with him at several opportunities. As far as I can tell he is intelligent and not overly ambitious. I have witnessed first-hand that he has common sense and acts with decency and honour even though he had every cause to feel slighted."
  
  Jon grasped Dany's hand under the table and caressed it to express his appreciation with her proposal as he addressed his question to everyone present. "I would indeed prefer someone we know to a complete foreigner chosen by the Citadel. But what about the people on Dragonstone? They need a Maester as well."
  
  "The way I see it, the Citadel needs to send out at least one new Maester." Prince Oberyn was quick to offer his advice. "Have an honest conversation with Maester Pylos. Inform him that as soon as Sam has obtained his Maester's chain, you will have two Maesters to do your bidding. With Seven Kingdoms to administer, they will both be glad for each other's assistance. If Maester Pylos agrees, just inform the Citadel that you took him with you and that they need to send a new Maester to Dragonstone."
  
  Jon looked at Sam. who nodded uncomfortably. Clearly his friend was ill at ease with being the main cause of this issue. Jon gave him an encouraging smile. "I'll send a raven to Maester Pylos that he can expect me shortly after my wedding to discuss a few matters."
  
  Since nobody had anything further to add, Jon quickly moved ahead. "That just leaves the matter of how to represent the interest of each of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "It is not necessary to have each of them represented on your small council, Jon." His uncle spoke up now. "A small council can only rule effectively if it consists of a limited number of men or uh women," he added awkwardly his gaze lingering on the Princess for a short moment. "It is very important that you choose people who work well together and are at your disposal when you need them. Also, the more members, the more chances that opinions will differ. It will complicate decisions and make for tedious meetings. As long as you make sure that each Kingdom can bring their issues before the small council, then all is as it should be. Just make sure that they are aware that they can be heard if necessary."
  
  "How about holding a larger council where all Seven Kingdoms are duly represented, let's say once a year with the possibility of organising another one if circumstance call for it?" Again it was Dany who presented the idea.
  
  "That might work for most matters." Jon immediately supported her. "But when a delicate issue arises, they must be able to appeal to us and get a ruling without the other Kingdoms butting in."
  
  "So," Davos spoke up now his tone slightly admonishing. "If I understand this correctly, you establish a small council with only four core members you want present all the time, myself, Varys, Ser Gerold and a Maester. The rest can attend when they are in the capital or whenever it takes their fancy?"
  
  "That sounds rather harsh when you spell it out like that." Jon was taken aback by that comment for a moment and mentally reviewed how he had presented it. He swallowed. "I will make every effort to attend and will only be absent when I am travelling on official business for the Crown or defending my Kingdoms on a battlefield. My imminent short honeymoon of course will be the exception. I hope I can depend on all the other members to attend regularly. And don't forget that there will also be a Master of Coin in the near future."
  
  "I would prefer to establish some sort of minimal requirement of attendance for every member. Let's say they need to be present for at least half of the meetings calculated over a period of a year?" Davos didn't relent.
  
  Jon looked out of his depth for a moment. His uncle stepped in. He used his experience of moons governing Westeros to proclaim in a calm voice but with absolute conviction. "Jon, don't lose time over these smaller details. You need to establish your rule first. You will need everyone's help in these first few moons. This is a learning period. Your small council can address this matter later."
  
  Everyone nodded. And Jon looked relieved. "Thank you, Uncle. That is wise advice. Can we consider the matter of the founding of our small council finished for now and move on to the next topic?"
  
  "Of course," Ser Davos accepting the verdict looked at his scroll and spoke up. "Lord Varys, how are the first reactions amongst the servants and the smallfolk living in the city?"
  
  "Mostly favourable, I am happy to say. There were a few small skirmishes but overall the people are accepting the change in power. Most of them have fond memories of your father, my King."
  
  "Ser Gerold, do you have something to add?" Jon asked his Lord Commander.
  
  "It is as Varys says. A few minor skirmishes easily stopped by the City Watch. For now we need to stay vigilant. Troublemakers are by nature cowards. They tend to grow their numbers first before attempting anything substantial. All the guards and servants in the keep have sworn allegiance. As little as two guards hailing from the Stormlands have disappeared. King Robert's Kingsguard have petitioned for a position in your Kingsguard. I am not willing to grant them that. Perhaps they can be given a position in the royal guard."
  
  Jon nodded. "Handle that any way you deem fit, Ser Gerold. I think we all are of one mind on this. It is imperative that only men we know and trust absolutely are to guard Dany and me." He addressed the room at large when he tackled the next issue. "Lord Royce, can you handle the increase of visiting Lords over the next few sennights?"
  
  "We have asked the Lords in the neighbouring lands to lend us their tents. I am afraid some highborn Lords and their kin will need to sleep in tents. It can't be helped."
  
  "Then see to it that they have ample food and that the camps are organised in an orderly manner as much as you can control. We do not need unsavoury conditions and illness to spread out." Jon ordered.
  
  "Contact the nobles living in the city and ask if they can take in some of the more important Lords." Davos advised Lord Royce.
  
  Lord Royce shook his head and sighed. "I already did that when the tournament turned out to be more popular than expected." When he met the stern look of Lord Seaworth he added reluctantly. "I will contact them again."
  
  Jon understanding Lord Royce's predicament offered him his help. "I will give you a written royal request to show to the owners of the larger mansions. Perhaps they will make an extra effort if they get some recognition from their newly proclaimed sovereign. We could promise them an invitation to a dinner in the Red Keep preceded by a short private audience with the King. They can also expect to receive a few words of royal gratitude in front of witnesses during the banquet."
  
  Lord Royce nodded gratefully. "That would sway most of them to make the extra effort. Thank you, your Grace."
  
  "Can't we use some of Peter Baelish's former brothels?" Prince Oberyn suggested.
  
  "I'll look into it." Lord Royce sighed. "I might require more assistance. Thoros of Myr and I can only do so much in one day."
  
  "Take Cassel with you." Eddard Stark was also keen to help his ally and friend out. "He has grown familiar with the City and can recommend you the services of some female members of my houseguard who travelled with their husbands to King's Landing. I can only imagine the work to be done to transform the brothels into adequate quarters for Lords and Ladies."
  
  "By that comment, I can only surmise that you have never set foot inside one of Littlefinger's brothels, Prince of the North." Prince Oberyn commented amused. "Those establishment you want to 'transform' are most likely more luxurious than the average home of a noble family here in the capital."
  
  "I concur," Varys piped up. "It will probably be enough to remove a few of the more suggestive ornaments."
  
  "Then see to it." Jon ordered Lord Royce. He was ready to declare the subject closed when Lord Royce coughed. "Your Grace, Lord Tarly, did one of you by any chance review the list of competitors for the joust? More in particular the younger Lords who qualified by way of the pre-tournament?"
  
  Jon looked at Sam and they both shook their heads. "Why do you bring that up, Lord Royce?" Jon asked. When he saw the man frown and swallow.
  
  Ser Gerold straightened his back. "If there is a threat to the King then why was I not informed?"
  
  "Not a threat as such, Ser Gerold." Lord Royce looked rather uncomfortable now. "Perhaps a delicate situation is a better way of phrasing it. Lord Dickon of House Tarly is one of the contestants."
  
  "Dickon is here in the Capital?" Sam's face lit up for a second only to darken again and a large frown appeared on his forehead. "My father is still on the list of Lords who have not yet announced their imminent visit nor has he sent a promise of his allegiance by raven. Dickon has not shown up at Court either." He hesitated and looked at Jon who could see his friend was starting to panic. "What does that mean for my brother, Jon? Will you summon him? Use him as a hostage?"
  
  Jon looking rather grave exchanged glances with Ser Davos before answering in a composed manner. "At the very least I would want a word with him, Sam. And I would like for you and Davos to be present. Let's hear him out first."
  
  "I don't know if he is aware that I am a part of your inner circle, I mean uh. Never mind. I also don't think he is aware yet of the real reason I left for the Wall."
  
  "I want to surprise him with your presence, Sam. That will make it easier for us to have the upper hand in the conversation and get a genuine reaction out of him. I won't reveal your father's part in your exile from Horn Hill. I leave you to decide how much you want him to know about that."
  
  Jon turned to Lord Royce. Can you see to it that Lord Dickon of House Tarly receives a summon and is escorted to the Red Keep. I guess I will be granting another private audience this afternoon. I'll receive him after the delegation from Craw isle.
  
  Jon now turned to his uncle. "How is Robert Baratheon faring? How much longer will he remain alive and conscious?"
  
  "Two days at the most." His uncle answered. "You promised him a visit and he has asked to see me immediately afterwards."
  
  "Then we will do that first thing after this meeting." Jon nodded at his uncle and reckoned Dany had been right when she had whispered to him during breakfast that Lord Stark looked as if he had not slept and most probably had spent the night at the bedside of Lord Baratheon. "What can you tell me about the Reach?"
  
  "Except for the fact that they want a private audience?" His uncle asked.
  
  "Except from that." Jon nodded.
  
  "Rumours are that they are planning to raise the prices of their food. Rumours courtesy of Lord Varys." His uncle added giving credit where it was due. "It is the only real power play left to them now. You are betrothed so they lose all immediate chance of advancing their status. They lost status to The North, The Vale and it probably hurt their pride even more to learn that Prince Oberyn is a member of your inner circle. You also gave some smaller houses an honourable mention and they were completely passed over. Lady Tyrell is a cornered animal and is using the only play she has left."
  
  Jon looked at his uncle with astonishment and totally missed the silent exchange of looks and small gestures between Varys and Prince Oberyn. "What about the betrothal negotiations between your houses?"
  
  "I haven't contacted her again and she is smart enough to realise that she hesitated too long and that House Stark is now in a much stronger negotiating position. My sons and daughters are Princes and Princesses of the North. They are also cousins to the new King and will be in high demand now, even more than before."
  
  "Well there are still enough Freys she can choose from as we all well know." Ser Arthur laughed and everyone relaxed for a moment."
  
  "I need to find a way to rebuff her without punishing her grandchildren. And I think I just had a most fitting idea." Jon smiled mysteriously and Prince Oberyn nodded approvingly.
  
  The meeting went on for some time covering mostly safety issues and getting everything organised for the coming festivities. They reviewed the list of nobles present and added the more recent arrivals. This list was then used to issue invitations to large banquets they would hold every other night where nobles would be allowed to talk to their King in a less formal setting. They drafted the King's itinerary over the next few days allowing for time to screen new messages, refresh his knowledge on the visitors and make a public appearance in the city. Jon made sure there was time set aside to visit his dragons with Dany at least once every other day.
  
  The next topic on the agenda was the rather complicated situation in the Stormlands. Jon noticed everyone looked tired and their attention had been waning on and off. When he suggested adjourning the meeting and continue the next morning, they were all quick to agree.
  
  Chairs scraped over the stone floor and everyone proceeded to leave the room. Jon quickly intercepted Davos and his uncle and requested them to stay behind for a moment. Dany looked at Jon, a question in her eyes but Jon whispered in her ear that he would join her afterwards. He waited until the door fell closed behind her before addressing his uncle.
  
  "No better time than the present to discuss what is happening with the war fund and tell Davos what that is all about, Uncle Ned."
  
  Much to his surprise his uncle cooperated immediately. "I agree. But let us sit down and have a cup of wine first. I asked a servant to bring us a pitcher."
  
  A bit later they had all been served and sat close together. Davos looked curiously at the way Prince Stark was twirling his cup nervously. He tried to put the newly proclaimed Prince at ease. "It can't be as bad as all that now can it, Ned. We all go back a long way and are friends, are we not?"
  
  Ned Stark exhaled slowly and started to speak. "It was an extraordinary coincidence that started everything." He looked at Jon. "I never told you all the details, just the outcome."
  
  Jon put his hand on his uncle's shoulder for a short moment. "Just tell us, Uncle. I think I guessed anyway and I am sure Davos here will vastly appreciate the irony."
  
  Ned looked at Davos. "Do you recall how the Mountain ended up being punished for his crimes?"
  
  "I did." Davos looked curious now.
  
  "Well at the same time a team of ours went after Lord Tywin of House Lannister. He was rather easy to track down. When at the Rock, he had the same strict routine. Our men managed to corner him during one of his inspections of his gold mines. Apparently they had found a new vein in a shaft that had been abandoned for... I don't know exactly how long ago. Suffice it to say it was a very rich vein a bit out of the way of the main area where the Lannisters mined their gold those days. To be more exact, the shaft where the discovery was made had to be accessed by a separate entrance at the other side of the mountain. When my men caught up with Lord Lannister he was conferring with his overseer in that remote area."
  
  Davos nodded sensing where the story was headed, but kept silent letting Ned Stark tell it at his own pace.
  
  "When Tywin Lannister understood the predicament he was in, he bargained for his life. They kept him a prisoner until my brother Benjen and Lord Howland Reed arrived. I will spare you the details of the negotiations. I will only tell you that our main argument was that nothing could compensate for the murder of Princess Elia and her two royal children, nor would the Dornish ever be appeased before they extracted their revenge upon him. In the end, in exchange for his life, he signed away all rights to the newly discovered vein but under the condition that we would keep it a secret from his heirs and the other Kingdoms so House Lannister would not lose even more face over this. He agreed to live in exile and swore not to leave the place we chose to send him to. He also promised not to reveal his identity or whereabouts to anyone. We sent him to a location where he is nobody and has no resources to return. He knows we are keeping an eye on him and that he will only be allowed to come back to Westeros if we pardon him. When everything was settled in writing, my men taunted him with what the gold would be used for. All in all it is a fate much worse than death for a proud man like him."
  
  "Does Prince Oberyn know any of this?" Davos asked.
  
  "He knows enough to be pleased. Not enough to find him." Lord Stark's answered to the point.
  
  "So you have documents entitling you to that gold?" Davos asked to be sure.
  
  "I do. But I don't expect Tyrion Lannister will consider them valid. He will claim that his father was unfairly pressured into it."
  
  "He wasn't though." Jon spoke up for the first time. "He was a murderer and faced the death penalty. He didn't deserve to live. He paid a fair price to be allowed to stay alive. I am inclined to think that Lord Tyrion knows very well what kind of man his father was uh is. But I agree not to tempt fate before I am more acquainted with Lord Tyrion. How do you explain that back then and all this time nobody got wind of strangers mining at the Rock."
  
  "Because there weren't any strangers mining it. "We bought the services of the overseer, a man called Stout and his crew that discovered the new vein. The entrance is at the other side of the mountain. Lord Tywin kept all his dealings to himself. His sons took no part in ruling his lands. Somehow it all worked out. Things are about to get complicated though." Ned Stark frowned.
  
  "Uncle? What haven't you told us?" Jon frowned when he looked at his uncle's troubled expression.
  
  "We got a report that a new vein has been discovered in the part of the mines exploited by House Lannister. They are currently digging deep under the mountain in the direction of our shaft. It might take another three moons or so before they will be coming dangerously to connecting their new shaft to ours. We must make a decision soon. Come forward, which would break our promise to Tywin Lannister or stop mining and leave the area without a trace."
  
  "Do the Lannisters pay taxes to the Crown in proportion to what the mines yield or is it a fixed fee no matter how much the mines bring in?" Jon asked his uncle.
  
  "I must check with Varys but I think it is a fixed fee." His uncle replied.
  
  "If it is, then we change it. House Lannister is not in a position to object and it is not an unfair thing to ask. When they fall on hard times, their taxes lessen, when they discover a new vein, they can afford the higher contribution they have to pay the Crown."
  
  "Spoken as a true Master of Coin." Davos praised Jon. "Perhaps you don't need to find one after all?"
  
  "I do need one. I don't want to spend my mornings going over the books in addition to my other duties. I'd rather pick up my sword and train."
  
  "Something you and Robb have in common." Ned smiled relieved that that part of his confession was over. "So If I understand this right, you opt to withdraw our men from the Lannister mines before they risk discovery.
  
  "Yes, Uncle. I am confident that with good management, the Seven Kingdoms will once more be prosperous. The Crown needs to focus on getting everyone to do their part to keep their corner of the realm from living up to its potential. The Crown will reap enough benefits from the Lannister mines by collecting taxes proportionate to the estimated value of the yields."
  
  "And the Crownlands will have to start earning their income as well." Davos chimed in.
  
  "Indeed. Anyone who is lazy will still have to pay taxes calculated on the possible income he would have earned had he done the work."
  
  "A noble notion, but impossible to enforce, Jon." Ned cautioned. "How do you even start to make an accurate assessment of everyone's income? Don't rush these plans. Start with a small community and see how much effort it takes to implement such a tax. In the unlikely event that it works, go from there. If not, learn from your mistakes and make your plans a bit less ambitious."
  
  "Just an idea, Uncle. Brainstorming, remember? I know the premises is righteous but am well aware that putting it in practice is a different thing altogether. It is something to keep in mind for when my reign is more established. Now, about the debt we owe the Iron Bank, can you tell Davos and me how deeply the Crown is indebted to them?"
  
  His uncle gave them the exact figure which in the end was less than they had feared. Not much later the discussion ended. His uncle agreed to delay the promised visit to Lord Baratheon till after lunch. Jon was in need of fresh air. He cursed the fact that he better be sensible and refrain from climbing too many stairs. He yearned to access a balcony in one of the towers and look out over the city, his city. Instead he needed to satisfy himself by using the small balcony of the council room. Finally alone, Jon stepped out on that balcony and shifted his head upward to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. He startled when Dany came up behind him and encircled his waist.
  
  "I asked the servant to serve the two of us a light lunch in here." She stood on her toes to kiss the back of his neck.
  
  He turned, took her hand and together they sat down on the stone bench that was the only furniture present on the small balcony. They passed a peaceful moment and avoided all talk of politics for now.
  
  "I'm glad you stood your ground and we will visit with the dragons later this afternoon. " Dany still held his hand and caressed the back of it absently.
  
  "Let me contact them to make sure they'll arrive on the beach near the Kingswood in time." This would be the very first time he warged in her presence and he made sure not to frighten her. "Don't be afraid if I don't respond to you for a short while. I need to concentrate and will close my eyes."
  
  Dany nodded and Jon closed his eyes and opened his mind. The first thing he became aware of was the niggling presence of his direwolf. Surprised he focussed on Ghost. His direwolf had refused to accompany Gendry to Winterfell. Neither had he joined Edric, Brienne, and Loras to White Harbour. Ghost had opted to travel south at his own pace.
  
  Jon warged into his wolf and was relieved to learn that Ghost was no longer travelling alone. Despite the fast pace Uncle Benjen had been travelling, Ghost had managed to catch up with him. It reassured Jon that Ghost planned to stick with Uncle Benjen for the rest of the journey so both of them could look out for each other. He was glad to witness through Ghost's red eyes that Uncle Benjen looked healthy enough except for the expected signs of exhaustion. His uncle looked a bit thinner and had dark circles under his eyes. Satisfied that they were both safe and approaching at a steady pace, he severed the connection and searched for Rhaegal's presence.
  
  Rhaegal eager for news accepted Jon's probing and opened his mind. His dragons were circling impatiently over Dragonstone. Understanding that their human was finally recognised as the superior being over all those insignificant two-footers of his own race, they easily accepted to meet him on the prearranged spot and would take over the search for a suitable place to settle there. They were better placed than some tiny humans to sniff out caves. Jon urged them not to scare anyone unnecessarily and informed them that he and the Princess would arrive at the beach on horseback later that afternoon.
  
  Satisfied, Jon broke off their mind sharing session and stared straight into Dany's purple eyes. He smiled, easing her worried expression. "I'm sorry it took longer as expected. I first connected with Ghost. He is travelling in the company of Uncle Benjen now. They will be here in less than a sennight if all goes well."
  
  "I envy you this bond with your wolf but most of all with the dragons, Aegon."
  
  The servants preceded by Ser Barristan entered with their lunch before he could react. Jon gestured to Ser Barristan and the knight quickly ushered the servants out and joined Ser Oswell at the other side of the door allowing the couple to continue their tête-à-tête.
  
  They enjoyed their meal addressing nothing more significant than the weather and the decorations in the Red Keep. When Jon noticed that Dany had eaten her fill, he gestured for her to sit closer to him. He adjusted his position on the bench sitting astride it on the far edge so he could lean with his back against the stone wall and guided Dany until she was installed between his legs her back resting against his front. He encircled her waist with his arms pulling her closer to him and nuzzled her slim neck that was exposed since her braids were mostly arranged in an elaborate crown on the top of her head.
  
  "I'll help you with Viserion as much as I can." He promised, revisiting the topic they had stopped discussing when the servants had entered with their lunch.
  
  "It is not your willingness I am nervous about." She confessed.
  
  "Just take it easy and don't expect too much progress at once. They are not our servants but our equals if not superiors. Respect them as such and be grateful for every concession they make. Let them feel your acceptance of their decision not your frustration."
  
  "Will they be able to feel what I feel, you think?" She turned her head and gave her a quick kiss before he answered.
  
  "I don't know. But they are extremely intelligent and do understand everything I feel, think and say. Talk to them in High Valyrian though, as the dragonriders before me did. And we'll take it from there. I'll be with you every step of the way but I will need to walk a fine line between not betraying their confidence and helping you. You understand?" He leaned his chin on her shoulder.
  
  "I repeat, it is not your willingness that I have doubts about." She cocked her head so it rested against his.
  
  "We'll take a small ride on Rhaegal if you like." The promise was whispered with his lips close to her ear. The small puffs of breath he released while he spoke tickled her ears.
  
  "Will Ser Gerold agree?" Her shaky voice betrayed how affected she was by his closeness.
  
  "We'll only circle above the sea and see to it that we keep within the line of sight of the guards on the beach the entire time. Nothing can happen to us up there, Dany. Even Ser Gerold has to acknowledge that. The more difficult task was to get him to agree to us venturing out and visiting the beach." His hands were starting to move over the curve of her hips.
  
  "Well, he had no rebuttal after Varys told him of a safe way to reach the beach by travelling underground. I am excited to see those secret tunnels below the Red Keep and part of the city." Dany smiled and turned slightly in his arms. If she was a kitten, she would have purred. Instead she basked in the warmth of their embrace.
  
  "These tunnels played a dire part in the events of the Rebellion." Jon hands stilled as his mood got more serious. "They remind me of Jaime Lannister's fate."
  
  "You sympathize with him that much?" She looked sceptical and a bit jealous of whatever it was that had distracted him away from her.
  
  "I realise it is difficult for you to grasp but I am convinced that deep down he is a good person who was in the right place at the right time but at great cost for his own reputation and sanity. He is coming to term with his past now ever since he has found a new purpose in life. He is turning back into the man he was destined to become all along. I saw proof of that with my very eyes." He defended his change of heart.
  
  "And you are sure that you are not fooled into thinking that by a man who has nothing left to lose now that he is condemned to spend the rest of his life at the Wall?" Dany was not convinced yet.
  
  Jon pulled away slightly and leaned with his head against the wall. "I am. I can't explain it. It is as if he is a kindred soul. He could have become another version of Ser Arthur but fate decided otherwise. Often now, when I think about these three loyal Kingsguards who helped raise me, I wonder how things would have turned out if one of them had been in the Red Keep and Jaime Lannister had been amongst the ones that guarded the Tower of Joy."
  
  "But that didn't happen, Aegon." She felt a bit frustrated by his slight withdrawal and stared straight ahead.
  
  "He was our age when it happened, Dany. I can't help but feel for him, more so after his heroic deeds during and after the battle near Hardhome."
  
  "When will you tell me about that battle, Aegon?" She turned her head and saw the empathy for another in his kind dark eyes disappear and a troubled look take its place.
  
  "Soon, Dany. Allow me a bit of respite still. I hardly have had time to process the events myself. So many things are happening now and are demanding all my, our attention. Aren't you troubled by the situation in the Stormlands? Not all the families of the bannermen from the Stormlands that swore allegiance to us have been brought to safety yet."
  
  They had only briefly mentioned the situation in the Stormlands near the end of the meeting agreeing that the subject warranted more of their attention and it would be better to dedicate their entire next meeting to this topic. Varys had eagerly agreed relaying he was expecting two of his spies to return to the capital this evening with recent news and he would most likely have received additional reports from his little birds by tomorrow morning as well.
  
  She almost strained her neck in order to gaze deep into his troubled eyes. "I will wait for you to be ready, Aegon. I only am keen to learn more of what happened to you back there in the north so I can help you cope with it."
  
  He didn't reply. Instead, he turned her body sideways, dipped her slightly and took possession of her lips. On hand supported her back, his other hand caressed the curve of her hip sensually. He could sense her response by the slight quivering of her breath and the way she tilted her body closer to him, an open invitation to become more daring. His free hand ventured to her butt cheek and she lifted it willingly so he could cup it in the palm of his squeezed it and sighed against her lips. "If only we were married already."
  
  She was not able to offer a reply, his tongue preventing it by instantly seeking entrance to her mouth again, willing her to submit to him even further. He felt her hands playing with the curls at the back of his neck another sign that she was totally on board with anything he wished to do to her. His kisses slowly evolved in gentler ones and his mouth wandered from her mouth to her chin, to the exposed flesh above the neckline of her dress. His hand released her buttock and now wandered to the curve of her breast.
  
  "I want to kiss every inch of your body, Dany, starting with your perfect breasts. If only we were married already."
  
  "Do we really need to uh wait until we are officially married? We are officially betrothed. You are mine and I am yours, we only need to confirm it before witnesses which will happen in a few days' time." She managed to hold in a squeak when his other hand belonging to the arm that supported her ventured from her waist closer to the tingling spot between her legs.
  
  "Don't tempt me, Dany. I gave my word to Ser Barristan. Besides, our first time should be on a soft surface without servants or loyal Kingsguards threatening to burst in at any moment." His fingers of his other hand meanwhile had wormed themselves under the neckline of her dress and were inching closer to the tip of her left breast.
  
  He felt the warmth of her breath against his cheek and a shiver running down her spine when he reached the tender rosebud and took it gently between his thumb and middle finger.
  
  "What if we said our vows to your Old Gods in secret?" She barely got the words out overcome with some unfamiliar but very pleasurable sensations.
  
  "Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan were thorough in extracting that promise from me." He kissed the spot he had been caressing wetting the cloth that covered her upper body in the process and withdrew.
  
  She looked disappointed and slightly frustrated when both his hands stopped their administrations. She readjusted her position so she sat upright without his support. "I made no such promise. Can't we work with that given? What if tonight, I touch you where you touched me just now?" She touched his upper torso to make her point. Would you like to be kissed there as well?"
  
  He looked at her, relishing the innocent expression of her desires. "Gods, Dany, I adore you. I love the way your body responds to me. I cherish the way you hunger for my caresses. Don't ever doubt that I want you just as much. Our first coupling will be even more perfect if we succeed in waiting until it is allowed. We will be able to spend an entire night together without disturbance. I want it to be perfect, to be the stuff of legend, a memory to cherish until the day we die."
  
  He gave her an innocent peck on her check. "Help me wait, Dany. Don't tempt me overly much."
  
  "I didn't do anything, Aegon. It was all you." She kissed the top of his nose.
  
  "I know," he sighed with frustration. "I know all too well. Let us set the date and announce it tomorrow at the start of the council meeting. I only wish for two things: one that my Uncle Benjen can attend and two, that we say our vows in front of the Old Gods the night before we put on a show and hold a grand ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor for the sake of the realm."
  
  "Your uncle will be here within seven to ten days? We can get married in a fortnight then?" She whispered the words close to his lips.
  
  "At the very latest." He underlined his words with claiming her lips once more. "I can't wait much longer, Dany. I have lived without a woman for far too long. My body sometimes struggles with this forced abstinence and I wake up finding it released some of its seed during an uh passionate dream."
  
  "Those dreams better feature me, Aegon. Can I ask if you have bedded many women?" Her cheeks were a burning red and she turned her head away from him.
  
  "Dany, I,..." He had often imagined telling her about this but now that the occasion presented itself his mind drew a blank. He took a deep breath and slowly, the words that he had often rehearsed came back to him.
  
  "It was only one night some moons ago. It was all set up as a kind of a training session. I was taught how to please a woman. They were very thorough. The next morning we parted ways. No feelings were involved and I didn't actual touch any of them. They kind of uh showed me things? They were my teachers, sweet, willing, but I didn't actually bed them even if I saw every inch of them naked from up close."
  
  "Them? They?" Dany looked more curious than put out.
  
  There were two of them." He admitted. "I saved their lives and gave them their freedom and a chance to become part of a community of smallfolk at the Driftmark. They were pleasure slaves in Essos who had been captured by pirates. You remember the letter I wrote to you when I returned from visiting you in Pentos?"
  
  "I do. And have you seen them since?" She looked down at her lap, growing uncomfortable now that these girls became more real in her mind.
  
  "I have passed them by a few times. They still live on the island. You met them as well. They both greeted you when we walked from my grandmother to the inn for that serenade. I have never touched them except perhaps their hands. Please look at me, Dany." He softly took her chin and guided her head back to face him.
  
  "But you have felt the need to couple with a woman?" She looked embarrassed when she asked him that. "You promised me honesty, remember?"
  
  "I have felt the need. And I have given you honesty, Dany, no matter how embarrassed all this makes me feel. And if you insist on full disclosure then yes, I do feel the need to couple. Daily, I must add if you really want me to reveal my baser instincts. But it always happens in combination with thoughts of you. Once we're married, I'll describe some of those thoughts in greater detail and you may decide whether you want to help some of them become reality." He kissed both her eyelids.
  
  A soft sigh escaped from her lips. "We only need to wait ten days or so. Let's present it that way to the small council. If they want to stall, we can give them a few extra days. A fortnight is the longest I am willing to wait to learn what you have been taught so diligently by two pleasure experts. I am envious of the opportunities you have been given, Aegon. I am jealous and a bit scared now too if I am being honest. Scared that I will not be enough for you, that I will disappoint you. I know so little about any of this." Again she looked away and once more he took her chin and gently turned it so he could stare in her eyes.
  
  "There is no need to be scared. I vow to never love another. You are it for me, Dany. And you have the opportunity to learn more too. Ask Irri to help you with this. Have you not heeded my previous hints? Don't be shy with your own body. Let her teach you where you can touch yourself and find pleasure."
  
  "I'd prefer to discover it with you." She looked very young and shy now.
  
  "Then I'll cherish the honour to be allowed to be the one that gets to teach you." He kissed her chastely. "Now I am afraid that I must leave you. Lord Baratheon is expecting my visit. I believe you promised your help with the selection and seating arrangements of the nobles to invite to our first royal banquet? I'll see you this afternoon at the entrance of the secret passage way. Be sure to dress for the occasion. Breeches would not be remiss. We're going flying."
  
  She nodded. Then stood and pulled him up as well. Hand in hand they walked to the door ready to attend to the rest of their duties.
  
  Jon had expected Lord Baratheon's health would have declined but he had not expected the man to be suffering this much. He was sweating, his face was contorted in pain and his cheeks had an unnaturally red colouring. Even though scented candles had been placed in strategic spots all around the room, the smell of human waste and sickness was still predominant.
  
  "Your Grace," Robert Baratheon whispered when he noticed the young man. "I am glad you ca-came."
  
  "I am at your disposal, Lord Baratheon." Jon seated himself trying to keep his face neutral. "You wished to speak to me."
  
  "I did. I wanted to talk to you in private so you know my words are true. There is no need for me to keep up the pretense. There are no witnesses present. What we say now is just between the two of us."
  
  A short pause was necessary for Lord Baratheon to catch his breath. Jon waited patiently for the man to continue.
  
  "I wish you all the best, your Grace. I worshipped your mother and would have loved to see you grow up. I want your reign to be prosperous. So I wanted to warn you." He stopped out of breath once more.
  
  Jon who had leaned a bit closer in order to hear the softly spoken words was caught by surprise. "Warn me?"
  
  The former King looked almost desperate in his struggle to gather enough energy so he could explain. "Warn about wife, my former... wife."
  
  Jon frowned. "Cersei Lannister."
  
  The sick man nodded. "Ned told me of your com-compassionate nature. Don't let her trick you into feeling guilty about her fate and compel you to release her. She is... devious,... da-da-dangerous and not to be... trusted." Again he stopped out of breath.
  
  "We should have executed her but your... Uncle, dammit Ned is too lenient. Don't make the same mistake and be too lenient with her." His chest heaved by the effort to take in enough air to continue. Soon though the sick man's determination prevailed and he was once more able to continue. "She will be a threat to your reign. Your loved ones will never be safe." A coughing fit shook his body.
  
  Jon felt helpless and didn't know how to act. He offered the man a piece of cloth to clean the spit from his mouth. Lord Baratheon accepted the cloth and very slowly brought it closer to his mouth. He wiped the wrong side of his mouth with it but Jon kept silent and waited until Robert Baratheon choose to continue.
  
  "She will find a way to destroy you if you let her. Check that she is safely confined or ex-execute her at the first opportunity." Robert Baratheon sagged deeper into his furs relieved he had gotten the words out.
  
  "I don't know what to say to that." Jon said eying the man that looked at the end of his forces. "I had not given her much thought to be honest."
  
  "Whatever you do, don't be fooled by her." Robert Baratheon closed his eyes for a moment.
  
  "I thank you for the advice, Lord Baratheon. Anything else you needed to talk to me about or that you want me to do for you?"
  
  "My niece, Shireen, find her a goo-good husband." Lord Baratheon had opened his eyes again and looked beseechingly at the young man. "One who appreciates her for her keen mind and the nice, caring girl she is." Once more he stopped, out of breath.
  
  Jon looked around but there was no cup water or wine present. He nodded hoping that the small gesture would be enough to appease the former King. He prayed that the interview would end soon.
  
  "She needs a husband who is willing to see past her dis-disfigurement. I was... grieved to hear you were already be-betrothed. It would have been the ultimate solution."
  
  Trying not to let on how much the sick man's struggles discomfited him, Jon didn't hesitate and responded immediately with a firm sounding voice. "I promise to look out for her as if she were a close cousin. You have my word."
  
  "That is all I ask, your word. I know you are... true to it." A deep sigh followed these words. "Now I can rest in peace. Can you su-summon Ned, please?"
  
  Jon relieved that this was all the former King had needed from him stood at once, said his goodbye and left the room in a hurry. Once outside he took a few deep breaths of cleaner air, only to find his uncle pacing in the hallway. "He is ready for you, Uncle." Jon said his face serious.
  
  "What did he want, your Grace?" Ned had been rather worried and Davos' continuous speculations had only increased his own concern.
  
  "A promise to take care of Shireen as in find her a decent husband plus a promise not to pardon former Queen Cersei."
  
  Ned visibly relieved, urged him to inform Davos of this immediately and then disappeared into the chamber where is best friend was dying. His old friend didn't mince his words.
  
  "It is time, Ned. You must help me end my suffering. I want something that will put me to sleep never to wake up again." He wheezed and barely got out his next words. "I have made my... peace. The realm will be well looked after. It doesn't need me anymore... Nobody needs me anymore."
  
  Sam was growing apprehensive. He and Davos would be present during the two private audiences scheduled that afternoon. Dany had sent word that she had been delayed and would do everything to ensure that she could meet Jon in time for their excursion to the beach. Jon had taken it in stride and had asked Sam to come early so there were three of them to meet the Celtigars. Initially Sam had thought he would be waiting in the vicinity to be summoned when his brother was brought before the King.
  
  The elderly Lord Celtigar had proudly presented the ancestral Valyrian axe. Jon and Sam had taken note of the particular design of the axe head. Jon had made sure to compliment House Celtigar on the pristine condition the weapon. He had made a show of admiring it thoroughly by pointing out how light it was, how well balanced and effective because of the unique shape of the axe head. He had thanked them profusely for having made the effort to bring the weapon to King's Landing and stressed that by this deed, House Celigar had contributed to the improvement of the royal armoury. The royal blacksmith would try to duplicate the design, even if the weapons could never be of such superior material.
  
  Davos, still remembering the behaviour of Lord Celtigar's son during their first meeting when Jon was merely the Prince of Dragonstone, had closely monitored his reaction. This time the Celtigar heir left the room with a superior smirk on his face. 'Just one day and it has already been proven that King Aegon had a lot more support and leeway than the Prince of Dragonstone ever would, even amongst his own vassals.'
  
  As soon as the doors had closed Jon turned to Sam and Davos with a contrite look on his face. "When I requested them to show me the axe, I didn't know that we would have a chance to produce our own Valyrian steel. I had to justify my request. I hope you weren't too uncomfortable with the show I put on."
  
  "Not at all," Davos responded quietly. He had been shocked when Jon had finally let him in on their plans. He had almost chastised Jon not to have started the trials earlier in the North and on top of that to allow Gendry to create an additional delay by visiting Winterfell and accompanying slow travelling Ladies when he finally came South. Jon had needed to explain that the production of one batch of Valyrian steel would need almost a moon to complete with a dragon's assistance at several stages of the process.
  
  Sam had helped him out by pointing outthat Lord Reed's latest message had reassured them somewhat about the timeline. Not only did they have time on their side, they might also need to experiment some before succeeding. "Don't count on it that the first batch will yield the result we are striving for. Just ask Gendry about how complicated the process is when he is here."
  
  When Davos had nodded and promised to keep their endeavours and hopes a secret until they had actually produced the high quality steel, Sam had changed the subject.
  
  "Jon, would you be willing to make some sketches of the axe head later? You draw better than me. And you didn't exaggerate to placate Lord Celtigar. The design of the axe head was rather interesting. I want to show it to Gendry."
  
  Jon smiled and nodded. Now that the King's full attention was on him, Sam grew nervous and started fiddling with his hands. "My brother is next? Has he uh arrived, you think?"
  
  "Ser Oswell informed me that Dickon Tarly has been brought to the keep a while ago. You haven't warned him by sending a note or a messenger?"
  
  Sam shook his head vigorously. "Of course not. You told me not to. My allegiance is to you, Jon."
  
  "I don't doubt that, Sam. It is just, he is your blood. There was always the small chance he could have sought you out or that you two met by accident."
  
  Sam didn't know what he had ever done to deserve Jon's loyalty and friendship. The kind expression on the King's face settled some of the anxiousness that moments before had made his voice shake. He shook his head to affirm once more that there had been no contact between him and Dickon at any point. Jon smiled encouragingly at Sam and gestured Ser Oswell to let Lord Dickon Tarly enter.
  
  In adherence to the strategy they had all agreed on, Sam moved to the alcove that hid the side door from view. From there he could oversee the entire room. The eyes of anyone who entered would immediately be drawn to the King and his Hand.
  
  A broad shouldered, rather handsome young man entered the room. Despite his impeccable military posture, his eyes betrayed how nervous he was.
  
  Davos spoke up. "Lord Tarly, I am Davos of House Seaworth, Hand of the King. You stand in the presence of King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk.
  
  Lord Dickon of House Tarly did not kneel. Instead he made a deep bow. "Your Grace. My Lord Hand."
  
  They might not look alike at the first glance, but the nervous look on his brother's face and the twitch of his jaw were identical to what Sam often saw on his own face in the mirror. From his outlook post he could study both men's profiles and watched how a serious looking King formally greeted his younger brother.
  
  "Lord Dickon of House Tarly. I heard a lot about you and your House. "
  
  Dickon startled at that but kept silent not knowing why he had been chosen amongst all the competitors to come before the King. The streets were abuzz with rumours of the handsome young King who for the time being refused to grant audiences. But he had been summoned and had not been given the opportunity to decline. He would have preferred to confer with his father first but there had been no time. He barely had been allowed to change his attire before two guards had escorted him to the Red Keep.
  
  "Can you tell me when I will hear from your Lord Father?" The King had kept standing and Dickon stood at least twenty foot away which set the tone of the meeting even more clearly than the cool formal voice of Jon. Sam saw his brother growing more and more uncomfortable
  
  "I, uh, I'm not sure, your Grace. Perhaps he is waiting on instruction of his liege."
  
  "Who is here as my guest and has even been given some fine quarters in the Red Keep, isn't that so Sam?"
  
  This was his queue. Sam approached demurely but he felt the small vein in his neck throb at a rapid pace. "They have been here for some time, your Grace."
  
  Jon nodded at him, the stern expression in his eyes softened when they focused on him. Sam stopped when he stood at the King's right side.
  
  "Hello Dickon. It has been some time since I last saw you. You look well."
  
  His brother had paled and widened his stance when he swayed slightly. Sam saw him struggle not to bombard his brother with questions. He knew that Jon had ordered his Kingsguard to brief Dickon Tarly on the proper protocol when in the presence of the King.
  
  "You are allowed to address your brother shortly, Lord Tarly. You will however have to do it in my presence."
  
  The young Lord looked from Sam to the Targaryen King back to Sam. "I, uh, I just wanted to say that I am surprised to see you here, Sam. You have lost weight. It suits you. Why are you not at the Wall or at the uh Citadel?"
  
  "The King had need of my services. I delayed my trip to the Citadel." Sam didn't elaborate further. Instead he started his own enquiry. "Does my father intend to pledge himself to King Aegon? Or will he ignore the summons of Lord Tyrell and turn traitor? Will he heed the summons of Lord Stannis of House Baratheon?"
  
  "I uh, to be honest, I don't know. I left for King's Landing when Robert Baratheon first announced the tournament. There was no talk of an abdication back then."
  
  This was the first time since they were both grown up that Sam felt truly superior to his younger brother. That made it easier to keep to the script. He spoke with renewed confidence. "Did Father not write to you? Did he by any chance summon you home but are you disobeying? Are you risking his ire in the hope that he will forgive you if you make a name for yourself by getting far in the tournament?" The elated feeling at having the upperhand for once grew even more pronounced when he saw his younger brother's guilty blush.
  
  Davos chose that moment to intervene. "Lord Tarly, I order you to answer the question. His Grace is also interested in the answer. Did your father summon you home?" Davos' tone would have made braver man cower. Sam was astounded to see drops of sweat, caused by fear no doubt appear on his brother's forehead.
  
  "He strongly uh advised it but I wrote back that it had been a peaceful transition and I would be fine. I only sent the raven out yesterday." His eyes widened when it finally dawned on him that his father could have called him back for a very different reason. He broke protocol when he interrupted his conversation with the King to address his brother. "Sam?"
  
  Sam waited for the sign they had agreed upon. Jon made a show of allowing Sam to speak with a magnanimous royal hand gesture.
  
  "Father is hedging his bets most likely, Dickon. You know what his ambitions are. Lord Stannis of House Baratheon will have promised to fulfil them. I advise you to do as the King tells you."
  
  Jon used his kingly authority to perfection when he stiffly addressed his brother. "Lord Tarly, you will write a letter to your father and let Sam read it before you seal it and send it off. You will inform him that his two sons are currently my 'guests' in King's Landing and will both enjoy my hospitality for a while still. Write that I want to parlay with him. If he wants his heir safely back in Horn Hill he is not to send word to Stannis Baratheon nor is he to speak of this to anyone. If Stannis Baratheon wants an answer to his summons, your father must stall him. If he already promised Lord Baratheon certain things, he will delay sending whatever he promised. Did you get all that?"
  
  "Am I your prisoner?" Dickon looked helplessly between the two men.
  
  "Only if you want to leave." Davos had taken a few steps closer to the young Lord. He used what Sam called Davos' fatherly voice when he advised Dickon. "Send the letter and participate in the tournament, Lord Tarly. But know that we will watch every step you take in King's Landing and monitor anyone you talk with. You will not be allowed to venture near the city walls. If you do not heed these restrictions, a place in the dungeons will be made ready for you. Is that clear?"
  
  "What about Sam?" Dickon asked. "What will you do to my brother?"
  
  Now Jon stepped forward until he stood next to Davos. "Now you rise in my esteem, Lord Tarly. Your worry about your brother is commendable but unnecessary. Your brother is part of my inner circle. Whatever your father decides, Sam will always have a place by my side and be safe, unlike you. I believe we are finished here. Wait in the hall for a moment. Sam will join you there soon. He will see to it that you can borrow some writing materials. It is my wish that you to write that letter before you leave the Red Keep."
  
  Sam fell into a chair the moment his brother left the room. As expected, his friend was quick to come to his side.
  
  "I'm sorry, Sam. But that was necessary. My compliments. You held yourself well. That was a great performance you just pulled off."
  
  "That the three of us pulled off," Sam corrected. "But it took a lot out of me. I feel drained. You were very intimidating, very kingly, Jon. I never saw my brother shrink before a man that was not my father."
  
  "I had the easier part. I was just intimidating a stranger. Help your brother write the letter, Sam. Find the right tone to persuade your father to at least hear me out before he makes a decision. Don't betray your status with me."
  
  "I know. We went over it a few times already. Don't worry."
  
  Jon smiled. "Then I won't. Prince Oberyn will be pleased when I tell him this part of his scheme worked flawlessly."
  
  Interlude 36: Timely interventions
  
  That same day
  
  Prince Oberyn looked at Varys as they were both leaving the small council meeting. No words were spoken. Any observer would have said that both men went their separate ways, looking bored after a tiresome meeting. Nobody would have suspected that they were set to hold a secret encounter only moments later.
  
  The Red Viper of Dorne didn't startle when the Spider entered his room by a hidden side panel that wasn't visible if you didn't know it was there. Prince Oberyn had more than once lamented that Sunspear had not been built with such handy hidden passages and tunnels. It would have made it that much easier to get away with all the mischief he had caused in his younger years. The very same moment he had entered his room, he had gone over to that wall and had unblocked the secret entrance. He sat waiting in a chair, two cups of wine at the ready on a small table.
  
  Varys took the chair facing his co-conspirator and didn't waste any time. "They need our help even more now that he is King but they are totally ignorant of it." He took a large sip of the wine. "I needed that. This is excellent wine, Prince Oberyn."
  
  Oberyn acknowledged the compliment to his homemade wine as well as Varys' statement with a short nod of his head. "What a tedious meeting. Only the part about young Tarly was interesting. I would like to be a fly on the wall during that audience. But when they discussed the Tyrells! Are they really that oblivious? Honour can be a dangerous thing to have if it blinds strong and capable men so thoroughly. Do they really believe that lady Olenna has no other tricks up her sleeve than raising food prices?"
  
  Varys nodded. "The King is young and has never met the likes of her. This is one area of his preparation that has been neglected. You should perhaps educate him a little, Oberyn. He listens to you."
  
  A smug smile appeared on the Prince's face. "That he does. Even though he thinks he came up with the idea of making Willas Tyrell the prominent member of House Tyrell on his own."
  
  "You must grant our Grace the credit he is due though." Varys took another sip of the wine. His face clearly showed his enjoyment of the superior quality of the drink. "It was a splendid move to marry the Tyrell heir off to Myrcella Lannister. Once legalised, she became an eligible partner for him, but one Lady Olenna would never approve of."
  
  "Unfortunately those were not solely political motivations that drove our youthful King to this decision. His compassionate nature facilitated a couple that fancied itself in love." He snorted. "The rest was me coaching him. I might as well have written the letter to Willas Tyrell myself." He chuckled now. "House Tyrell will be forced to accept a legalised bastard bride without a dowry!"
  
  Varys didn't share the exhilaration of the Dornish Prince but pressed his previous point further. "Then talk to our King. Teach him more about the way the real world works. Show him how the game is played and what lies hidden behind the smiles and polite words of the nobles. He is an apt student and already has a better grasp on these things than both his uncles combined. Or are you scared that the student will outgrow the master?"
  
  "Now you offend me, my dear co-conspirator. I would count myself lucky if I ever achieved that. I personally will make sure that our young King will be the best Sovereign this continent has ever seen in its entire history."
  
  Varys smiled indulgently and raised his glass. "To King Aegon, long may he reign." He emptied his cup and saw Oberyn do the same.
  
  He stared absently at the bottom of his empty chalice when he remarked, "I never thought I would see the Red Viper root for another. And certainly not for one so young. If I didn't know better, I might profess that you have a man crush."
  
  "And what if I did? I love that boy as if he were my own son. Hells, I wish he were. But then, he has surrogate fathers enough already. He doesn't need me." Oberyn refilled both their cups and drank deeply once more.
  
  "I'm merely an adviser that he trusts, but you, you are his friend, Oberyn. He cares genuinely for you. He esteems you and heeds your counsel. You could do worse."
  
  "I know. I know." Prince Oberyn had a faraway look on his face. For a moment he looked happy but then a frown appeared on his forehead. "I just hope my stupid brother doesn't endanger my status at Court and consequently my relationship with Aegon."
  
  "You have contingencies in place." Varys reminded the Prince in an attempt to lift his mood. "And King Aegon would grant you full immunity from the happenings in Dorne. He did not befriend you to gain the alliance of Dorne. Besides, you have proven your usefulness ten times over."
  
  Oberyn righted himself in his chair with renewed purpose. "Then let's be useful once more. How can we thwart lady Olenna this time?"
  
  "Well, in the first place, we need to keep doing what we have been doing ever since she came to court with her granddaughter. I have little birds shadowing Lady Margaery day and night."
  
  "I still can't believe you caught her trying to sneak into King Robert's bedroom when they learned he was recovering, only to attempt the same thing with our young King barely a sennight later." Prince Oberyn shook his head.
  
  "And this time I didn't send a servant on a collision course with her. Last night, I had my little birds warn the guards and tell them to hide around the corner and let Lady Margaery enter his bedroom." Varys smiled remembering the detailed account of one of his most promising little birds.
  
  "And she almost got into bed with Princess Daenerys. That must have come as a shock to her." Prince Oberyn had heard a short version of last night's events already.
  
  "Not to mention the fact that she was almost arrested by the guard that followed her in immediately after to make sure that our Princess would come to no harm. Lady Margaery however was quick to come up with an excuse. She is cunning, I grant her that."
  
  "She only got away with it because you told the guards to let her go and not shame the young maiden. I know it has not been a full day since, but no rumours are being whispered for as far as I know. You got them all to keep silent." Prince Oberyn's tone clearly indicated he meant to compliment an extraordinary achievement.
  
  Varys nodded his head in acknowledgement and continued his tale. "My little bird that followed her all the way to her own room at the other side of the Red Keep reported that she stumbled and almost ran the entire way, looking pale and panicked."
  
  "She must have wondered what the Princess was doing in the King's chambers." Prince Oberyn clearly enjoyed picturing the event.
  
  "My little spy told me he heard her mutter under her breath: 'Another failure. How in the Seven Hells do I explain this to Grandma? Will she even believe me or punish me again for my perceived unwillingness to persevere.' If Lady Margaery doesn't connect the dots, I am sure her grandmother will. She will realise that the King is honour bound to marry Princess Daenerys now, even if nothing happened between our royal couple."
  
  Prince Oberyn frowned. "Not if the Princess dies before the wedding. Or she can always make the King a young widower in the moons to come before an heir is born. I was lucky that that old fool of a Maester came to me for an ingredient he was missing to brew a suspicious potion. Your little birds were able to detect the rest of the plot soon after. The Tyrell servant that was to administer the poison to the Princess' bedtime drink has gone missing. Yet another dilemma to solve for the Queen of Thornes."
  
  "She won't care for the servant. Only for the fact that Princess Daenerys is still healthy and set to marry the King soon." Varys voiced the obvious out loud.
  
  Oberyn nodded. "And we must plan for all eventualities. Not only the health of the Princess is in danger. They can create chaos by eliminating the King as well. I will order Davos to have every single thing the King or the Princess eat or drink tested first. Have your little birds monitor everyone Lady Olenna speaks to. Do not neglect a single source, however unimportant it may seem. At the Citadel I heard a tale of a man who was killed by a poisonous powder they had sprinkled on his clothing. We must remain vigilant."
  
  "And we will. I already made more inroads in the Tyrell household. As of today, I will receive a copy of each message that leaves the Keep sent by House Tyrell for whatever destination. Do you still have your men stationed at the docks to monitor the Tyrell ships?"
  
  "Of course. The Queen of Thornes won't be able to make a move without us knowing. I have loyal men stationed throughout the city." Oberyn was quick to affirm.
  
  "Then the only thing you still need to do is talk to our King."
  
  Prince Oberyn rolled his eyes at the Spider's insistence. "And I will. But it will be a delicate process. I will do it gradually."
  
  "Don't underestimate his Grace, Oberyn. Tell him about Lady Margaery. It is better that he knows. He might reconsider consenting to betroth her to his cousin. You told me how close the King is with Robb Stark. Not only would his cousin suffer such a wife, Lady Margaery would become something akin to a good-sister to his Grace."
  
  Oberyn looked thoughtful at first but then a devious smile lit up his face. "That would enrage our highness the Queen of Thornes even more. We must make sure that we have her safely entangled in our web of spies first. Lady Olenna of House Tyrell might become even more desperate and unpredictable when cornered."
  
  Both men savoured their drinks, and mulled over the issue. Oberyn was the first to break the contemplative silence. "What if Lady Margaery is an innocent victim in all this? It must not be ideal to grow up under the scrutiny of the Queen of Thornes. Perhaps she is a nice girl in an impossible situation. What do the servants say of her behaviour towards them? Could it be that she is a decent prospective bride after all? One we need to save from a vicious grandmother?"
  
  "I heard nothing unkind but I didn't specifically look into that. I'll do so at once. If you are willing to give her the benefit of the doubt then I am certain that our King will do the same. I'll see that I come prepared when he puts that question before me."
  
  "We need to cover all our bases. Perhaps if we can neutralise the Queen of Thornes, there may be hope for House Tyrell yet. I am not a fan of the alternative. House Tarly has lost my esteem ever since I heard how the great Lord treats his eldest son. I realise that our King has progressive ideas and is a firm believer that women can wield power but we need to find a way to take Lady Olenna's power away. A way that is acceptable to Aegon."
  
  "Let's take it one step at the time. I'd be inclined to say we have been successfully undermining her every step of the way already. We have seen to it that her son has 'accidentally' stumbled on several schemes she was putting in motion. All things she would have preferred to keep a secret from him and she has been obliged to abort most of them. My little birds tell me the servants are no longer permitted to do her bidding without question any longer. If she does things out of the ordinary they have standing orders to inform her son. I think she has shamed Mace Tyrell in public one time too many. Our young King certainly hasn't minced his words when they last spoke. We are doing all we can, Oberyn. I'd say we are well underway to dethrone her as acting head of House Tyrell."
  
  Oberyn gave him a small smile. "Then let's drink to that and put an end this meeting. It is time I did something fun for a change. To King Aegon!"
  
  "Long may he reign!" Varys responded automatically and both men sipped from the strong wine and fell silent.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter, Jon settles into kind of a routine and we hear a few reactions of the servants
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  New arrivals
  Chapter 37: New Arrivals
  
  Chapter Summary:
  
  Ser Jorah makes an appearance and others arrive in King's Landing as well. In the interlude, we follow a little bird.
  
  Chapter notes:
  
  I am aware that realistically servants would speak in some sort of dialect but since English isn't my first language, I didn't attempt it. This will be the last chapter I post unbeta'd. Next week I can once more rely on the guidance of Ravenousreadr.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  The next days passed quickly with meetings, audiences and a discreet burial ceremony on the fourth day of Aegon Targaryen's reign. Robert Baratheon had passed away the night following Jon's second visit. They had buried him in the crypts beneath the Sept of Bailor in accordance with Lord Baratheon's last will. The man had not wanted his remains to be sent to his homeland but had preferred his last resting place to be a royal one. Jon hadn't minded at all and had granted the former King his final request.
  
  Only once had Lady Shireen accepted their invitation and had been present during lunch. Jon and Daenerys had tried to talk to her a few times but had gotten no further than to extract the promise from her that she would make an appearance at the tournament and sit close to the royal couple to send a clear sign to the nobles of Westeros that Lady Shireen of House Baratheon was on good terms with her distant Targaryen kin and free to go wherever she pleased. On the third day of his reign Dany had invited her for tea and Jon had joined them to inform her of the promises he had made her uncle and that he regarded her as a cousin, no matter what actions her father might undertake against them in the future. She had nodded and thanked them formally but Jon and Dany had realised that she would only come to trust them with time. Jon had made sure that she was well protected and was attended by servants that she liked. If only Sam had not been so swamped with work, he was sure that the gentle nature of his friend and their joint interest in books would have helped the girl relax a bit in this awkward situation.
  
  Jon reckoned that for the most part things were going well. They had established a two-day schedule for the time being because his reign was still precarious and every day there were new issues that popped up. Jon always started his day with some muscle building exercises in his room that did not strain his right leg. These exercises replaced his normal sword trainings for the time being. Then he broke his fast in the company of his entourage. Every other morning there was a small council meeting held as soon as Jon had reviewed the recently arrived messages. On these days there was no Court session in the afternoon and he either granted a few private audiences or held one or more meetings with a particular adviser in his study. Still, he made sure to dedicate at the most half of the afternoon to this so he still had ample time to help Dany bond with the dragons. These were also the days that they held a royal banquet in the evening so all the nobles got their turn to dine in the presence of the King and their future Queen.
  
  The days without a small council meeting, Jon spent his mornings in the room he now referred to as his study. The large desk once put there on the orders of Robert Baratheon was always littered with scrolls. Ser Gerold joined him to give him his daily brief progress report, Davos followed shortly after to do the same and to discuss the newly arrived information if relevant. Afterwards either Jon preferred to be left alone or he discussed things with Sam and Davos. On these days, tedious Court sessions with endless oath takings and a few public petitions took up the entire afternoon. To compensate for that, supper was an intimate affair held in a private dining room with only his closest family and friends.
  
  No matter what day it was, each one invariably ended with the both of them talking quietly in Dany's quarters. He considered it his reward for performing his duties as King to the best of his abilities during every moment of the day and not looking bored when he felt like it or skipping out on his duties. These cosy moments before retiring to his own room had quickly become his most favourite part of the day. Although leaving her afterwards to return to his empty bed got more and more difficult with each passing day.
  
  After she had fallen asleep in his quarters that first evening in King's Landing, they had agreed to meet in her rooms from then onwards. In the event that Dany fell asleep again, she would at least spend the night in her own bed. The wound on Jon's thigh had been healing fast and she had made him promise to take it easy on the stairs. Jon had needed no further convincing. He was more motivated than ever not to sabotage his healing. He was itching to start training again and would do nothing to jeopardise that. Nothing got his blood flowing and his mind focused so much as an exhilarating training session that pushed him to the limit of his abilities.
  
  He sometimes feared that he was addicted to it as much as some people were addicted to getting drunk or gambling. He had never forgotten the strange sensation of time slowing down when he fought the White Walker and was impatient to get well enough to replicate this feeling to some extent. He had felt something similar - though not as intense - a few times before that fateful fight near Hardhome. The first time had been shortly after the attack of the pirates when they had started fighting in formation during training sessions.
  
  During one particular session, his friends fighting by his side had all been waylaid and he had needed to hold off two of his Kingsguards' blunted sword attacks. If he had to describe it to others, he would say that he had felt himself entering a state of trance and it had seemed as if his body had started to move of its own accord. His feet or better his entire body had been performing something akin to a graceful dance, his mind instinctively knowing when or how to cut, not fearing defeat and operating with the absolute conviction that every move he made was the right one.
  
  Ever since then, he had longed to replicate this experience. He had felt something similar two more times after that. On both occasions it had happened after he had been able to hold out long enough when he finally got his Kingsguards to take him on simultaneously and not hold back. So no, Dany didn't need to remind him not to sabotage his healing process. Jon studied the wound on his thigh each evening before he went to bed and each morning when he got up and was satisfied with the progress he observed. All in all things were going well.
  
  His worst day until now had been the day that they had discussed the situation in the Stormlands and his subsequent meeting with Prince Oberyn. First during the small council session, Lord Varys had given a full account of all the information that he had gathered. So far, no formal answer had been received in reply to the official message announcing the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name. Even if the bird had not reached Storm's End, rumours of his ascension to the throne must have reached Storm's End by now and Stannis Baratheon had certainly already been informed of what had happened one way or another. Jon still hoped that the man would see reason and swear his allegiance. His entourage reminded him daily that it was still too soon and that it was normal that nothing had arrived yet. Jon knew that as well as the others but in this respect the days crawled by. As of yet, Dorne had not sent a formal reply to their official demand for allegiance either. But then again, it was normal that it took more time for a raven to fly to and from Dorne.
  
  Jon was worried however by all the details Varys had related to them about the goings on in the Stormlands. Stannis Baratheon no longer worshipped the Seven but had converted and now prayed to the Lord of Light. Jon was the last person to force a religion on his people, be it Faith of the Seven, the worshipping of the Old Gods or any other deity. In this instance however, the deeds that were allegedly committed by Stannis Baratheon to curry favours from this R'hllor were appalling. People had said the Targaryens were cruel when they burned people alive. Stannis Baratheon had burned his own kin alive. He offered human sacrifices to his new Fire God and did all that to be granted visions. Lots of smallfolk and a few nobles were imprisoned and feared for their lives every night the fires were lit on the beach. Jon had listened with growing concern to all the facts Varys had enumerated.
  
  "As stated before Stannis Baratheon has been contacting several major Houses for some time now and not only ones belonging to the Stormlands. This made us speculate before whether he was planning to overthrow his own brother." Varys' sing-song voice for once had sounded rather flat.
  
  "Add to that that the knowledge that Ser Jorah has sent that several sellsword companies have been approached by Westerosi. Hopefully we will know how these responded when he finally shows his face in King's Landing." Ser Gerold had interjected.
  
  "Mayhap the Red Woman had a vision of the future and Stannis Baratheon's intent has been preparing to overthrow us all along?" Sam had ventured.
  
  Varys had continued unperturbed. "It has now been confirmed that Lord Stannis Baratheon has received a visit from Euron Greyjoy."
  
  "Which other major houses outside of his dominion has he contacted, Lord Varys?" Davos's question had put a stop to the mumblings of the others that had started up when Euron Greyjoy's name had been mentioned.
  
  "The major Lords outside the Stormlands that he has been in contact with that we know of for certain are House Tarly," Varys' voice had trailed off while he looked at Sam.
  
  Jon had nodded at Sam encouraging him to speak up. "I am the last person my father would confide in. But Jon and I, uh we spoke with my younger brother yesterday and he wrote a letter to father then and there and I saw to it that it was sent off immediately. We should have an answer soon."
  
  Davos had gestured to Varys to continue his enumeration. "Stannis Baratheon has contacted House Frey, but ever since Lord Walder of House Frey has been incapacitated I think we are in the clear there. His sons are neither cunning nor daring. They have been cowered into obeying their entire lives and will not dare to rebel. As you know a delegation of Freys is making its way here. We know for certain that he has contacted House Bolton, but here Roose Bolton's demise has also been a blessing for us and another setback for Stannis Baratheon. Domeric Bolton immediately forwarded us the message he received and reassured us of his fealty."
  
  Jon had spoken up then. "He wrote to me personally to inform me that he has left the north and is travelling to King's Landing as we speak. It looks like he is reaching out for houses that can replace the current Lord Paramounts."
  
  Varys had nodded and resumed. "Stannis Baratheon was even so bold as to contact House Dayne which makes me wonder if he is desperate or wants us to find out what he is planning."
  
  "He probably contacted House Dayne before he knew exactly what happened here and that Ser Arthur is alive and on our side." Prince Oberyn had interjected. "But I get your meaning. He contacted large houses in several Kingdoms. We only know of a few by accident. Who knows how many requests for support he actually sent out and how many will respond now that the political situation has changed dramatically? And now that news of the death of Lord Robert Baratheon is reaching all he corners of the realm, he has a better argument to rally them to his cause. Instead of Lord Stannis usurping his brother, he can now claim that someone posing as Aegon Targaryen usurped House Baratheon. He can even start rumours that implicate us in his brother's death."
  
  Oberyn had looked the young King in the eyes when he spoke in an apologetic tone. "People might believe him, Aegon. He was the heir before Robert Baratheon changed his mind on his deathbed. And many people still remember the reign of your grandfather, King Aerys II."
  
  Jon had frowned and looked at Varys who had stayed silent. Instead it had been Ser Gerold who had steered the discussion away from the past atrocities of the young King's grandfather. "If I were a Lord who received a request for support from Lord Baratheon and knew of the Targaryen Restoration, it would make me would think twice to go up against dragons. I for one am more worried about Stannis heeding the advice of a Red Priestess; her Lord of Light and the likes of Euron Greyjoy. Those enemies are unpredictable and dangerous, certainly now that we have all come to understand and believe that magic does exist in this world."
  
  Varys had nodded his assent. "My little birds claim that Euron Greyjoy practices black magic. Servants tell stories of how Greyjoy has sailed to faraway lands and has somehow acquired deadly magic by holding a wizard hostage and finding powerful objects. Some stories claim that he has acquired powers himself by bathing in a sacred pool, others that he died and was reborn and is immortal now. The reports are a bit confusing to say the least. I hope things will start to make more sense when new information arrives. I expect to receive several new accounts over the course of the next few days. What I know for sure is that a large part of Euron's fleet is stationed north of Storm's End in a bay where the sea is calmer. And that even though Yara Greyjoy claims that many of his men deserted, he still has an impressive fleet under his command. My birds report that some of Lord Baratheon's bannermen mutter that Euron Greyjoy could sack the Stormlands with ease if he wanted to since too many Ironborn are allowed inside the castle without any precautions. They come and go as they please."
  
  Sam and Jon had exchanged quick glances during Varys' discourse. But Jon had gestured to let it be for now.
  
  "Still," Jon had tried to summarize the situation for now, "Stannis Baratheon has neither declared that he is my enemy, nor has he been moving troops overland in the direction of King's Landing. He is also not sailing here yet. We still have the advantage. We have a large fleet, several armies to call upon and two large dragons. Can't we just wait for a moon or so and then oblige Stannis to declare himself our ally or enemy? If he does not swear fealty, we take the fight to him. We can lay siege to Storm's End and when we have him surrounded, I scare him out by threatening him with dragonfire."
  
  "A sound plan except for one tiny detail." Prince Oberyn had remarked. "You are known as the King who took the Iron Throne peacefully. But more importantly, in an effort to counter the rumours of a power-mad Targaryen with dragons, we spread the news that you care for your people, smallfolk and nobles alike. We have used the argument that you are more Stark than Targaryen. Everyone knows of the reputation of House Stark and what they look like. The tide has turned in our favour but we must not be naïve. Stannis will have spies in the capital and these rumours will have reached him. Most probably Baratheon won't believe you capable of slaughter. If he is smart, he will call your bluff and put the smallfolk in the line of fire. If you are not willing to sacrifice innocent men, women and children, you will lose your tactical advantage."
  
  Jon had frowned. "I used the dragons at the Dreadfort. They blasted the gates so the army could enter the stronghold. I admit that I burned a few vile Bolton guards, a feat that went a long way in scaring the others to submit. But surely we can devise a plan if someone can explain the layout of Storm's End to me? If the dragons can blast a path for our soldiers... "
  
  He hadn't finished his sentence thinking he had said all he needed to get them on board. Realising by taking in their sceptical expressions that his advisers had not been convinced, he had amended his speech. "I will not let one Kingdom stand in the way of my ultimate goal. A united Westeros is needed to fight the Night King and his vast army of wights. I can't take my armies and dragons beyond the Wall if I need to protect King's Landing from a possible attack by Stannis Baratheon and an unknown number of allies."
  
  Davos had interfered then. "Jon, let's table this debate for now. You can't really do anything before either Stannis declares himself or the deadline runs out. As far as we know, you still have moons, perhaps even years before the Night King shows himself again. Remember Lord Reed's last scroll. I propose that unless Varys unearths something rather alarming or a letter from Stannis Baratheon arrives, we table this topic until after your wedding and honeymoon. I know you prefer to deal with your problems head on but these situations take time to develop. Calling banners, preparing for war, it all takes time. The enemy won't declare war or attack before they are united and fully prepared. We probably have several moons to prepare. This is just the first sennight of you reign. Concentrate on domestic affairs."
  
  Jon had looked doubtful but everyone around the table had nodded their assent. Eventually he had given in but had stayed troubled all the same. Dany had not been present at that meeting. For once she had given precedence to other tasks when she had heard that the sole item on the agenda had been the possible war with the Stormlands.
  
  After lunch, Jon had taken a stroll outside and had visited the Godswood. Even if there was no real heart tree present, it still was a place where he could find solitude. His Kingsguards had made sure that nobody entered and only one of them had followed him inside and shadowed him from a discreet distance. He debated on the possibility of Euron being the undead foe he had been warned against. Lord Reed had warned not to underestimate this foe, he would be a formidable opponent, dragons or not.
  
  The moment Varys had uttered something about Euron possibly being re-born, he had remembered the ritual that some Ironborn go through to prove their bravery and ability to lead. Theon had boasted about it enough to Robb. In the presence of a priest, the man is drowned, preferably in salt water and then brought back with the kiss of life. Theon had told Robb that some men didn't survive the ritual. Most did though. Some of them were brought back after their heart had stopped beating for more than two hundred drumrolls. Those were considered as being favoured by the Drowned God.
  
  During the meeting Jon had shared a look with Sam and had known instantly that his friend had been thinking the same thing. If Euron Greyjoy had survived such a ritual, he could qualify as the undead foe they were looking for. A drowned man brought back to life. In the Godswood, seated on the ground, leaning with his back and head against the red oak, Jon had closed his eyes in an effort to find a moment of peace. He had startled when he had heard a voice calling his name.
  
  "Aegon, we need to talk. There are a few things you should be aware of."
  
  Jon recognising Prince Oberyn's voice, had opened his eyes and had looked up into the grave face of the Dornish Prince. He had immediately known by the Dornish Prince's unusual demeanour that something serious was afoot. He had invited the Prince to sit down next to him and Jon had learned a few things about life in King's Landing. It had not improved his already perturbed state of mind.
  
  He couldn't fault Prince Oberyn for telling him. Quite the opposite in fact, he had thanked his friend for coming forward and not protecting him from these things. He had already gathered that his upbringing had been too shielded in some ways. The Starks and his Kingsguards were all men who lived and died by their honour. And even though he knew already to some extent that not everything was black and white, it seemed that there were still things he didn't see coming. He had learned a very valuable lesson in the Godswood that afternoon.
  
  Afterwards, the Prince had encouraged him to relax for a while and they had arm wrestled on a large tree trunk and indulged in other silly games that tested your reflexes. They had exited the woods at ease with each other and Jon had been fairly relaxed. Later that evening though his mind kept returning to all the things the Dornish Prince had revealed to him. For the first time since spending his evenings in Dany's room, he had been distracted and not totally focused on her.
  
  They were seated close together on a chair wide enough to accommodate the two of them. Jon had his arm around her shoulders. Dany was in the middle of recounting her accomplishments of the day when he sighed for the second time. She stopped abruptly and faced him.
  
  "Want to tell me what is troubling you? Has it already become an obligation, a burden to you to come here and spend time with me?" Even though her words sounded rather unforgiving, the look she gave him was filled with worry.
  
  Jon startled. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"
  
  She studied him carefully. "Aegon, something is troubling you. I noticed that you ate little during supper and that you were somewhat preoccupied then also. You have been distracted before but never here when it is just us. What is the matter? Can't you tell me?"
  
  He hesitated but his face softened a bit. He gave her a gentle kiss. "I can tell you. Of course I can tell you, it is just that I didn't want to spoil our time together. I had hoped to find some reprieve here. But my thoughts keep going around in circles and won't let me be at peace."
  
  She took his hand. "Then tell me. Let me help you carry the burden."
  
  "Even if it is not a subject suitable for our limited private time? Even if what I tell you will cause you to become troubled as well? It might even cause you to have a hard time falling asleep because you won't feel safe anymore."
  
  "Now I won't stop harassing you until you tell me." She answered severely but then her expression softened again. "Share your burdens with me, Aegon. I'll do all I can to make them easier for you to bear. Is it not possible that from my female perspective I can see a solution that you cannot?"
  
  He once again gave her a light kiss. "You are right. You are absolutely right. I could use a female perspective on this although," he hesitated, "you never had to put up with expectations from your parents or grandparents. Forgive me for saying this so crudely. But it is a fact that is at the heart of this matter."
  
  She studied his serious expression and he could sense her mulling over what he was hinting at. She slowly started to speak. "My brother had expectations of me. Granted, I was freed of them when he died. I still remember how guilty it made me to feel relief over his death some times. But otherwise, no, there were no expectations of my kin since I had none left. I only could guess at the expectations my parents would have had for me. I did long to return to Westeros and find some kind of connection with the history of my house." She squeezed his hand to emphasize her next words. "I was so happy when I received your first letter. I still remember it to this day. I am glad you wrote to me as soon as you knew of our kinship." She gave him a close mouthed kiss and withdrew when he tried to lengthen it.
  
  "Now tell me?" She asked and installed herself so that she faced him.
  
  Jon sighed and started to tell her all that the Tyrells had been up to. He mentioned that he heard about most of it only that afternoon, specifically the part about Lady Margaery's involvement. He didn't embellish nor did he leave anything out. She grew pale but kept her silence until he had finished.
  
  "She entered my room?"
  
  "Technically it was my room." Jon corrected her. "She wanted to be discovered in my bed so she could claim I had compromised her and I would have been honour bound to marry her."
  
  "And Lady Olenna tried to poison me?"
  
  "Yes, although we have no substantial proof. It would be her word against that of a servant. Varys is fairly sure she is the sole instigator of that plot and the other Tyrells are not complicit."
  
  "I owe Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn my life. You were right. This will trouble my sleep."
  
  "Oberyn reassured me that the poison they wanted to use was not lethal. Oberyn and Varys have taken several extra measures to limit the access to harmful substances. Ser Gerold does not know that Lady Margaery was involved, but it has been brought to his attention that there is a serious threat and he has doubled surveillance in the hallways. I would prefer to stay by your side all night but it is not yet permitted."
  
  She swallowed and let him install her in what had become their favourite position. She sat with her back against his chest safely between his thighs, his arms encircled her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder.
  
  He turned his face slightly and kissed her neck. "All the maidens of the realm can sneak into my bedroom and I will chase them all out. None of them could tempt me to take what they offer me."
  
  "I am a maiden." She was happy however with his reassurances.
  
  "You are the exception of course. I should have said all the other maidens in the realm." He nibbled at her ear and she giggled.
  
  Daenerys withdrew her head. "Aegon, that tickles. We need to stay serious for a bit still. You wanted my female opinion. I suppose it is in regard to Lady Margaery?"
  
  "I do. Ever since I was told, I have been wondering about her. Is she as devious as Lady Olenna or has she been forced perhaps even terrorised into doing her grandmother's bidding. Has her upbringing corrupted her or can she still be a kind, faithful wife to her husband once she is free from her grandmother's influence."
  
  He could feel her grow still in his arms. "You are thinking of Robb Stark?"
  
  "He is like a brother to me. I wouldn't want him to be tricked into caring for someone who will only use him to obtain power and will drop him as soon as a better opportunity presents itself. Perhaps they will even try to poison him when he has served his purpose."
  
  She stayed silent for a while. When she started to speak it was rather hesitant. "I do not know her well enough to offer an opinion. The Tyrells have not been granted many occasions to mingle with us. I don't think anyone of us knows her well enough to either condemn her or to vouch for her."
  
  "Perhaps I should contrive to have a private talk with her without alerting Lady Olenna. My Kingsguard will chaperone me but stay out of hearing distance of course."
  
  "She would probably just start to cry and play you for a fool." Daenerys protested and squirmed a bit in his arms. "It won't bring us anything and if I am being honest, I would not like it one bit. Can't anyone else do it?"
  
  Jon turned her sideways and gave her the kiss she had solicited earlier. When he released her again they were both slightly out of breath. He touched the tip of her nose with his finger in an admonishing gesture. "You're the only one I want to kiss all the time."
  
  But then his expression sobered again. "Varys is gathering as much information on Lady Margaery as he can. Soon we will know how kind she is to her handmaidens, the lower servants, her guards, in short, how she treats anyone she interacts with. But how that will help us find out whether she will be faithful to a prospective husband?"
  
  "What if I try to befriend her, invite her to tea or for a stroll? And then talk to her about crushes on boys and subtly ask her what kind of men she prefers? You know, girl talk? Perhaps I can even steer the conversation to what living with an overbearing grandmother is like, one that is known far and wide as the Queen of Thornes?"
  
  "Do girls that hardly know each other really talk of such subjects? Won't she be suspicious if you ask her things like that? I suppose you could invite her for a stroll or whatever you ladies do to pass the time." She playfully raised an eyebrow at him but he stayed serious. "Perhaps you might find out a little what she is like. But be careful if you venture on her territory. Don't eat or drink anything and excuse yourself without causing suspicion." He paused and was about to recant the entire thing when she reacted.
  
  "Aegon, didn't your uncle write to you once that he had a conversation with her soon after she arrived in King's Landing. He deemed her suitable to marry his son and heir. I recall you telling me that he was so impressed by her that he even wanted to betroth them before Robb and Lady Margaery had the opportunity to meet each other."
  
  "I'm not sure I can trust my uncle's judgement in this. Besides, I can't tell Uncle Ned any of this yet." Jon protested. "If he gets wind of this, he will cut Lady Margaery. Even if it turns out that she is a victim and acted out of fear for her grandmother. Even if we had absolute proof of that, my uncle will not find her fit to become his good-daughter any longer. He abhors deceit and she will have played him perfectly. He will never again believe anything she tells him."
  
  "What a mess. But surely you would tell Robb before a deal was struck. Even if you can forgive her, he would have to live with her for the rest of his life. They can't have such a secret between the two of them."
  
  "I hadn't thought that far yet. But you are right. If Lady Margaery turns out to be decent and kind and a betrothal between them is back on the table, then Robb should know. Before I could allow anything to move forward, Lady Margaery should confess it to him herself. That would be the only way I can see it work. If we ever get that far anyway."
  
  "I agree." Dany said with a heavy sigh, looking rather glum.
  
  Jon sighed as well and tightened his hold on her. "If I had my way, Lady Olenna would be banned from Court. I would imprison her in Highgarden and forbid her to have contact with the outside world. Her kin would have to enforce her isolation on the pains of losing all status if they failed."
  
  "That would only be possible if you could prove what she did. If not, such actions would endanger peace in the realm. We need to keep the Reach on our side, Aegon."
  
  "I am aware of that. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why are people so obsessed with power?"
  
  "Says the man who wants to rule Westeros." When Jon stiffened, Dany quickly added. "I was kidding, Aegon. There is not a sliver of doubt that you are different. You have an ulterior motive and a true claim."
  
  "And I am not some power hungry mad Targaryen. I would ask for nothing more than to live happily ever after with my loved ones somewhere safe and have just enough of everything to stay healthy and live in peace. I didn't ask to be this King that was Promised. I didn't ask to be born with a birthright and a larger than life destiny. We need Westeros united. The dead are the only enemy that count. I can't help but think that we are being way too accommodating to the Tyrells. The Reach owes the Targaryens everything and we have two large dragons to intimidate them."
  
  "Don't focus solely on your troubles and responsibilities but stop for a moment and count your blessings, Aegon. You have so many. Think of all the honourable men that support you and guide you. You have so many friends and resources. And where others are forced to marry someone they hardly know you can marry for..." She couldn't finish her sentence because he had shifted their position slightly and had captured her mouth. No words were being spoken for a long time.
  
  The next morning during breakfast a servant came running up to Ser Gerold who stood guard by the door and handed him a small scroll. After he had read it, Ser Gerold approached the table. "Your Grace, Princess, we can expect Ser Jorah to arrive soon. His ship has docked early this morning. Shall I put him on the list of people to swear allegiance before the royal court this afternoon?"
  
  Dany looked at Jon with pleading eyes. "I would very much like to see him before that. Will he be allowed in our presence before his formal pledge?"
  
  Jon smiled at her and turned to his Lord Commander. "He can make his pledge in private, Ser Gerold. Ask Ser Barristan to join us, will you? If Ser Jorah agrees to join the Dragonguard, he should have an outfit with our sigil at the ready. Send someone to escort SerJorah here. He must be made welcome."
  
  "Thank you, Aegon." Dany gave him a close mouthed kiss and blushed when Ser Gerold coughed. They were in what Ser Gerold considered a 'public setting' since servants were coming and going with plates and pitchers. He didn't say the actual words but Dany could read them from the Lord Commander's face.
  
  "What are your plans this morning, Aegon?" She asked quickly to cover her embarrassment.
  
  "Read the newly arrived messages, hear the latest reports, placate Davos and then finally have a long overdue meeting with Sam."
  
  Dany knew Sam was researching the Long Night and fire resistant substances and was also looking into alternate ways to control dragons and the properties of Valyrian steel. Jon had told her to keep that last fact a secret. He wouldn't want to get his advisers' hope up or put Sam and Gendry in danger when word got out that they had a fair chance to produce new Valyrian Steel for the first time in centuries. If they succeeded it would be an invaluable find, one people would be willing to kill for.
  
  She nodded and whispered back. "Then I wish you strength. We will see each other at Court and later tonight.
  
  Jon was about to respond when Davos interfered. "Your Grace, perhaps we can have a word this morning. There are some things you need to know."
  
  "Of course, Lord Seaworth," Jon made it a point to address him by his new title every time Davos called him 'your Grace', "I was just finished here anyway." He gave Dany a quick kiss on her lips and looked defiantly at Ser Gerold challenging him to chastise his King. Ser Gerold merely raised his right eyebrow. Jon smiled and left the room with Davos in tow.
  
  As soon as Jon had left, Dany smiled at Lady Ashara. "I'll meet you at the seamstress shortly before lunch." She nodded at Sam who smiled sheepishly in response and then asked Ser Barristan to follow her outside. Dany was strolling around the rose garden to pass the time until Ser Jorah arrived. Ser Barristan followed a step behind her. Suddenly she stopped and turned toward him.
  
  "I noticed you hardly leave my side, Ser Barristan. I know that the guards have been doubled outside my door at night but you are there every time I go to sleep and are also the first one I see when I venture outside my room in the morning. Do you get enough rest?"
  
  "When you get to my age, you don't need as much sleep. And there is a real threat. We are not just being overcautious. I learned that the King informed you last night. Ser Gerold and I are of one mind here. You need to be protected, Princess. And we trust no one as much as the four of us."
  
  "What about Ser Jorah?" She asked him. "Will you trust him?"
  
  "I hope so, Princess. In any event we will know soon enough. Much will depend on how he reacts to the situation. I will not press him into service but will engage him in conversation and inform him of the pending threat. If he really cares and worries about you, he will not want to leave your side after hearing that your life is in danger. He will pledge himself to your service immediately with our without our blessing. That is how a true sworn shield would act."
  
  "I understand, Ser Barristan. Knowing Ser Jorah, you will not be disappointed. He guarded me faithfully long before you came to take me to Westeros."
  
  "He did not follow you as soon as he could have." Ser Barristan countered. "He lingered in Pentos much longer than necessary."
  
  "Test him if you must, Ser Barristan. I understand and promise neither to interfere nor warn him. Tell me, will the four of you ever allow others to join your ranks as equals?"
  
  "They will have to prove themselves first. Ser Gerold is in charge of the selection. I will become more involved as soon as things settle down a bit." His posture stiffened and he reassumed his posture as a Kingsguard when he heard footsteps along the path.
  
  Dany smiled. "It is Ser Jorah. They must have told him to find us here."
  
  Ser Jorah immediately kneeled before her. "Your servant, my Princess. I have returned and am yours to command."
  
  "Please rise, Ser Jorah. I am delighted to see you. You remember Ser Barristan? He has been appointed as Commander of my Dragonguard."
  
  "Then I humbly ask to be allowed to serve under him. I was happy to hear of your betrothal. I can imagine no one more suitable to be Queen than you, my Princess."
  
  "Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan decide the appointments, Ser Jorah." She answered and then changed the subject with an innocent expression on her face. "You stayed away longer than I expected. I was getting worried."
  
  "I apologize, Princess. I hesitated at first, unsure if Ned Stark as Hand of the King would still want to carry out my sentence and I confess that I jumped at the opportunity to prove my usefulness in another way when I got the assignment to contact the sellsword companies in Essos to find out whether they had been offered contracts to fight in Westeros. It took some time before I was able to track them all down and send a full report. If it means anything to you, I did board a ship for Dragonstone before I knew of the abdication."
  
  Dany looked at Ser Barristan and gestured for the loyal knight to handle this further.
  
  "You will need to swear your allegiance to King Aegon before you will be allowed to roam the keep or be in the presence of the King or Princess unaccompanied." Ser Barristan's tone left no room for misinterpretation.
  
  Ser Jorah didn't startle at the slight. Instead he was quick to respond in a calm manner. "I understand, Ser Barristan. I wouldn't think highly of the Kingsguard if they allowed otherwise."
  
  "Then follow us." Ser Barristan ordered him formally. "The King has been informed of your arrival and has agreed to make time for you this morning."
  
  Dany smiled encouragingly at Ser Jorah and the three of them walked in the direction of the Red Keep.
  
  A few days later
  
  It was day eight of his reign. The tournament was set to start two days hence. Jon was just finishing up another tedious session of oath-takings in the throne room when the large doors opened. His Kingsguard immediately took a more alert stance, hand on the pommel of their sword, ready to defend their King and future Queen. Jon's gaze wandered to the end of the hall curious to see what was causing this disturbance. Such an occurrence had not happened before. His frown disappeared quickly and a happy smile broke over his face when the large dark silhouette of his uncle flanked by a white direwolf entered his line of vision.
  
  Only a few women kept their gaze on the young King, who looked even more handsome now that a real smile graced his already comely features. The others present were gaping at the new arrivals. Almost everyone stood frozen to the spot. The unlucky ones standing close to the aisle were backing away and several exclamations of surprise and fear rang throughout the hall.
  
  Uncle Benjen and Ghost not minding the reaction their appearance caused swiftly crossed the room. They had eyes only for Jon and halted closer to the throne than protocol strictly allowed. Benjen Stark swiftly knelt and pledged his allegiance loud and clear. Ghost lowered his front legs and bowed his head in submission. Jon smiled at Ghost's theatricals and realised that this encounter would made tongs waggle throughout the realm even more than his short flights with Dany on Rhaegal already did.
  
  He had risen from his throne when they neared but instead of pronouncing the usual response from high up, he descended the stairs glad that his leg had healed well enough to do that without limping. He put his hand on his uncle's shoulder when he pronounced the formal lines with heartfelt emotion. His words had never rung so true. Uncle Benjen would always have a place by his side. Both men smiled genuinely at each other.
  
  A quick gesture to Davos and his loyal Hand formally ended the court session and ushered everyone outside. Jon took off his crown and coat and handed them to Ser Gerold. Then he guided Dany closer and performed the by all parties highly anticipated introductions.
  
  Uncle, may I present to you my betrothed, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen? Dany, this is my most esteemed Uncle, Prince Benjen of House Stark who, as I already explained to you on more than one occasion, is as dear as a father to me."
  
  Uncle Benjen didn't hesitate and pulled the Princess into a warm embrace. "Pleased to meet you, Princess. Jon told me much about you and it seems he didn't exaggerate."
  
  "I'm pleased to meet you as well, Prince Stark." A welcome smile graced her features.
  
  "Call me Uncle Benjen. I will be your good-uncle soon enough. When is the wedding by the way?"
  
  A reply had to wait for a bit because Ghost made his presence known by nudging Jon impatiently. Jon made sure that the doors were firmly closed before he allowed Ghost to put his front legs on his shoulders. He embraced his direwolf and without uttering a single word he conveyed his relief to Ghost that he had made the long journey without looking any worse for the wear. If anything he looked stronger and larger. After a lengthy greeting, he released him and turned to Dany to complete the introductions. Ghost waited patiently back on all fours until his human had spoken the necessary words. "Dany, this is my loyal companion and fiercest protector, please meet Ghost. He is very much willing to allow you to become a member of his pack."
  
  Dany slowly reached out her hand and let Ghost sniff it. When she saw how gently the large direwolf first smelled her hand and then licked it tentatively, she ran her other hand over the white fur of the wolf's head. Her eyes were moist when she looked at Jon. "He is gorgeous, Aegon. You are so blessed."
  
  "I am." Jon's hand covered hers and together they petted the direwolf. "I hope you can get used to him. Ghost is accustomed to staying close to me, day and night." His eyes searched hers but she returned his look calmly.
  
  "I'll certainly try on my end." She promised. "Should I leave you and your uncle alone for a bit?"
  
  "If you don't mind?" Jon took her hands in his and looked grateful.
  
  She gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek and after a long lingering look between the two of them and a nod toward Uncle Benjen, she freed her hands and left through the side door, Ser Barristan following close behind.
  
  Benjen turned to him as soon as Daenerys was out of sight. "My, my, you have all the luck in the world, my boy. She is not only beautiful and kind but loves you to pieces as well."
  
  Jon hugged his uncle now, clinging to him for a while. "I'm so glad you made it here safe and sound."
  
  "And I was glad to hear the report of the peaceful transition from Baratheon to Targaryen dynasty. Although I am sorry to have missed your first days as King, Nephew. That crown on your head takes some getting used to."
  
  Jon removed the crown from his head and took a step back. "Join me in my room for a moment? I want to talk to you in private. My Kingsguards will stay in the hallway there."
  
  One by one Benjen Stark greeted the three Kingsguards who stood at a discreet distance with a nod and a smile. After stepping closer to Ser Gerold and whispering a few words into the knight's ear he turned back to his nephew. "Of course I'll join you in your room. Lead the way."
  
  Jon by now knowing his way around the Red Keep, at least to the more frequently used rooms, walked him to his temporary quarters and closed the door behind him and Ghost. His uncle looked around. "Not impressed, Jon."
  
  Jon raised his eyebrows and smiled disarmingly while he put his crown on a side table and pointed at a chair for his uncle to sit in. "I transfer to my new quarters on my wedding day. I was assigned these temporary accommodations because I chose to adhere to the advice of the Maester not to climb stairs if I could help it. I am mostly recovered now though. I started my daily trainings again this morning."
  
  Both men sat down on simple wooden chairs that stood at the foot of Jon's modest bed. Ghost sat on the other side of Jon and put his head in the young man's lap. Benjen smiled when he saw how Jon and Ghost cherished each other's company. He turned his chair a fraction so he could stretch his legs.
  
  "I see now that we have even more to talk about. I didn't know you had been hurt." His uncle remarked seriously and studied his nephew from head to toe.
  
  "I got wounded during the battle near Hardhome. Just a nasty cut on my right thigh and a smaller one on my left arm, courtesy of the army of the death. I'd prefer it if we kept the battle stories for another time. There are lots of other topics that we need to catch up on. We can make a start now. I have until supper. You know, you are lucky to arrive on a day that we dine in small company. Tomorrow we hold another grand royal banquet to which you are formally invited of course, Prince Stark." Jon inclined his head slightly. His right hand was absently petting Ghost's head and the wolf was clearly enjoying the attention.
  
  Benjen rolled his eyes. "I don't feel like a Prince. But I will enjoy meeting my brother again. And after our sibling reunion has been celebrated, or perhaps I might wait a few days, I will have a few choice words to say to my elder brother."
  
  "Tell me first?" Jon asked. "Perhaps together we can make sense of the situation. I gather you are talking about Robb's behaviour?"
  
  "I am. He is a good lad, truly. Only he needs someone to remind him that he is not yet qualified to rule the same way his father does. He needs someone to keep him grounded. I have pondered the issue a lot. Weeks on horseback riding along a well-kept Kingsroad that I have travelled often ever since you were born, gave me ample time to let my mind wander. More so the latter part, since I had a protector and needn't be so alert all the time." He reached out and scratched Ghost behind his ears.
  
  "Anyway, I remembered all you told me about how Robb behaved when he was in your company. Each time he acted out, you could get him to see reason and he became a better person the longer he spent time with you and was away from Winterfell. Apparently you got through to him in a way I did not."
  
  Benjen looked at Jon who nodded slowly while he mulled over his uncle's words.
  
  "However, once he is apart from you and back under his mother's influence, he grows convinced of his own consequence once more. When his father is away, Robb's word is law and his mother encourages him to use this authority in every aspect of his daily routines. I also noticed that when he read letters from you or when you were mentioned and he was confronted with all the ways you outshine him, not only did Lady Catelyn get irritated but also Robb's resentment built. The best thing would be for Ned to return to Winterfell and for Robb to travel so he can learn how the world outside of Winterfell works. I would like for him to spend some time with you here in King's Landing. My hope is that here, amongst all sorts of nobles and knights, he will learn by example how you can be respected even if you are humble at times when dealing with your lesser and that you do not need to conceal the fact that you heed the advice of others."
  
  Jon's face fell when his uncle's words registered. The hand stroking Ghost stilled. "Do you mean to say that one of the reasons you fell out was because of me? Lord Reed did not mention that in his letter."
  
  Benjen Stark shook his head and tried to amend his words. "First of all we did not fall out as such. I should have been more careful, tempered my speech somewhat when I spoke about this with Howland Reed. I was still feeling hurt. Rob and I," he sighed, "Rob and I uh, let's say we merely agreed after several uh altercations that my presence was not really needed at Winterfell any longer. Secondly, it was not about you. Not really. Your name only came up when our disagreement was well underway."
  
  Jon pursed his lips and ignored Ghost who was quietly begging for attention by rubbing his head against his thigh. "Then please enlighten me. What did you disagree about that caused him to chase you away? Because that is what happened, no matter how carefully you attempt to phrase it now." Jon looked at his lap and was mollified when he saw two loyal eyes looking at him as if they commiserated with everything he said. He ran his hand through the white fur again and Ghost relaxed visibly. Jon calmed down a bit as well.
  
  His uncle no longer concealed the hurt that shone in his blue eyes. "I blame my brother. He instructs his son to rule with absolute authority, and forbids him to heed the advice of others. I told you this before. During my stay at Winterfell, we often disagreed. He even admitted that his father, in one of his messages..." Benjen faltered and swallowed. He immediately tried again. "Uh that my brother had ordered him to ignore my help and to turn down the offers of help from others as well. According to Robb, his father absolutely forbade the founding of anything resembling a small council to govern the North.
  
  Benjen and Jon exchanged a meaningful glance. Benjen Stark swallowed again and searched for the right turn of phrase. "It all uh worsened when he started to disagree with me just because he could, whether it made sense or not. Things kind of escalated from there. In our last big uh discussion he accused me of always favouring you and that he knew for sure that I was counting the days before I could leave Winterfell and hurry south to you."
  
  Jon gently pushed Ghost's head out of his lap and the wolf moved so his large head now warmed his human's feet. This way, Jon was able to lean forward slightly and put his hand on his uncle's knee in a comforting manner. "I'm sorry you had to endure all that, Uncle. But are you sure you were patient enough with Robb? He was largely traumatised not that long ago."
  
  Benjen put his hand on top of Jon's. "I know that he was. Believe me. That doesn't mean he can act like a spoilt brat all the time. It is not as if he doesn't know what he is doing. Besides, I always formulated my advice as diplomatically as possible and made sure he knew it was just that, advice that he could heed or ignore, nothing more, nothing less."
  
  Benjen Stark in order to defend himself in Jon's eyes, momentarily forgot that he wanted to spare Robb. No longer concealing how deeply Robb had wounded him with his behaviour he blurted out, "He hurt me on purpose, Jon. He chose his words deliberately. He clearly intended to drive me away. That last night when he was drunk, the things he called me in front of witnesses. The way he exerted his authority over me, humiliated me for all to hear..."
  
  "Because he wanted his father to be proud of him." Jon explained his cousin's behaviour but turned his hand that lay on his uncle's knee upwards so he could grasp his uncle's hand better and squeezed it in support. When his uncle met his eyes, Jon smiled wanly and continued.
  
  "The root of the problem as you stated yourself was caused by Uncle Ned. He wants his son to rule the North with neither proper preparation nor experience and forces him to do it entirely on his own. And then he burdens his young heir with expectations so high that almost anybody would fail. As you pointed out, Robb has not seen much of the realm. He has hardly left Winterfell. He had never been allowed take part in negotiations with their bannermen nor attended trade talks before his father went south. Add to that his recent imprisonment and torture. Don't misunderstand me, Uncle. I know that he was in the wrong, totally in the wrong but," Jon threw his uncle an apologetic look. "I can't help but feel sorry for him, Uncle Benjen. I hate the fact that he hurt you but I so long to help him."
  
  Benjen sighed. "Me too, Jon. But you see, I did nothing but help him for a time. Hells, I even abandoned your cause and missed the first days of your reign only to be resented for it by the very person I wanted to help." He shook his head. "I had to give up for a while. He said things that made it impossible for me to stay."
  
  Benjen gently withdrew his hand and rubbed his chin. He took a deep breath. "Let us drop that subject for now. I need to talk to my brother about this and hopefully we can find a solution. Let me enjoy my time here with you now. I'm so glad I finally got here and can talk openly and honestly with you again."
  
  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Ser Gerold stepped inside the room.
  
  "Prince Stark, we did as you requested. May we bring the item inside?"
  
  Jon stared at his uncle, a question in his eyes. His uncle nodded at Ser Gerold and two men ushered a large tree inside the room with some difficulty.
  
  Jon's eyes widened and a broad smile broke over his face. "Lord Reed gave this to you, I presume?"
  
  "You presume right. He told me you had asked for a weirwood sapling and although he had previously planned to bring it along himself, he was not sure that he would reach King's Landing in time for the wedding. It was the largest one he had available. It slowed me down some but seeing your eyes light up just now, made it worth all the hassle it caused me."
  
  Jon circled the tree that two apprentice guards had brought in. It was still slender but already stood as tall as he was. Jon waited until the apprentices had left and hugged his uncle. Ser Gerold smiled when he closed the door. He had often wondered about the Seven and the Old Gods. It didn't matter much though. If his King was happy, then all was good in the realm.
  
  Jon in the meanwhile had released his uncle and both men had regained their seats. Ghost was sniffing the tree curiously.
  
  "I owe you one, Uncle."
  
  "Then by all means, oblige me. I want to hear all about your encounter with the former King. Did your cousin's vision really happen? Did you truly kneel before Robert Baratheon?"
  
  Supper that night was a casual affair. Benjen Stark greeted everyone most heartily. Both brothers were visibly content to see each other again and embraced warmly. They quickly consented to keep to neutral topics for now and speak privately on the morrow. Prince Oberyn teased Benjen about his new status of Prince of the North asking him with mock deference whether he was still allowed to address him as Stark or Benjen.
  
  Lady Ashara was the only one who needed to be formally introduced to Prince Benjen of House Stark. She had become a regular companion during their meals. Princess Daenerys often invited her to have another female companion present. Ghost just sniffed her hand once and then wormed himself under the table and lay quietly opposite Jon's feet. He slept through the entire meal and the only downside of his position was that the chair opposite Jon stayed empty to accommodate the direwolf's large body.
  
  This time Benjen was given the seat to Jon's left and he started the conversation by asking whether Lady Dayne still remembered meeting him. Knowing full well that everyone present was already familiar with the story of their awkward dance at Harrenhal, Lady Ashara had no qualms teasing Benjen Stark.
  
  "Has your dancing prowess improved over the years, Prince Stark? Or do the Ladies still need to protect their toes?"
  
  Benjen Stark faltered for a moment but then quickly regained his composure. "I have received, on occasion, some compliments from more than one dance partner. I heard there will be a champion's ball and a wedding feast in the coming days. Would you be so kind as to accept my hand for one dance at the event of your choice? After your remarks, my Stark honour must be redeemed."
  
  "Then I have no choice but to graciously accept, Prince Stark. I promise to reserve you one dance at each event." She inclined her head formally but her eyes looked teasingly into his.
  
  When the conversation fell silent, Davos introduced the news that Lord Frey had suffered an apoplexy whilst reading the raven proclaiming King Aegon of House Targaryen the Sixth as King of the Seven Kingdom as well as his upcoming wedding to Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen. The old Lord was paralysed and consequently bedridden. Nevertheless they were to expect a small delegation of sons of Lord Frey to descend on the capital to swear their allegiance in his stead. They would arrive in the capital accompanied by several of their maiden kin to join the ones already in King's Landing.
  
  Frey jokes were exchanged by all then. The most prominent one being Jon pouting that he had been the only male in the realm to have been overlooked by House Frey. He lamented that everyone else had been deemed suitable enough to become a good-son of Walder Frey whilst he had never received a single one of the abundance of infamous letters plaguing the nobles of the realm.
  
  A bit later the subject changed to the tournament that was to start on the day after next and then to the wedding and coronation ceremony. For practical reasons, Jon and Dany had agreed to hold the ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor on the day following the conclusion of the tournament. That way nobody needed to linger in King's Landing any longer than necessary. Many nobles had arrived in the capital almost two moons ago when King Robert had initially announced the tournament and would be glad to finally return to their homes.
  
  Jon and Dany issued an invitation to all present to witness their intimate exchange of their wedding vows in the Godswood set for the night before the pompous wedding in the Sept. They would need to slip away from the champion's celebration but Jon did not want to delay another day and refused to say his vows in the Sept and honour the Seven first. To him the Old Gods were the only ones who could truly bless their union. When Lady Ashara had objected that she was not really kin, Dany insisted that she would be most welcome and that they counted on her to be present. Everyone supported these words and the she relented and thanked them for the honour.
  
  Later in Dany's bedroom, Jon brought up the subject of her ladies-in-waiting wondering if despite her age, Lady Ashara would not make an excellent candidate.
  
  "That thought had crossed my mind also. For the moment, she certainly acts as one but I do not want to appoint anyone officially before our honeymoon is over." She blushed. "I will only bring Irri with me and she will make herself scarce."
  
  Jon nodded. "Irri has only been present at breakfast and once or twice at lunch, never during supper. How come?"
  
  Dany sighed. "I wanted to elevate her to the status of Lady-in-Waiting but she talked about it with Lady Dayne and I needed to concede that I did not think about all the repercussions. A Queen can't ignore protocol and changing the rules must be done gradually."
  
  "I know." Jon pulled her closer to her. "Everything was so simple when we imagined all this and made plans on Dragonstone. Reality and protocol resists us every step of the way. I can't even talk to Ser Arthur when I want to."
  
  Dany laughed suddenly. "Poor Queen and unfortunate King are feeling sorry for themselves. The smallfolk should hear us."
  
  "Count our blessings, eh," Jon kissed her.
  
  "That's one at least," she said, touching his mouth with her fingers as soon as he released her mouth.
  
  Jon smiled and looked at Ghost who was eying them curiously from where he lay in front of the door. Dany had not protested when Ghost had refused to leave Jon's side and had entered her bedroom as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 'And that is as it should be.' Jon thought while he looked into his direwolf's eyes. Ghost put his head on his front legs and relaxed.
  
  Jon turned his attention back on Dany when he noticed her leaning towards him. He immediately reciprocated and pulled her closer, his mouth covering hers again. 'Only five more nights.' He would count that as a blessing too.
  
  Interlude 37 : A matter of opinion
  
  "How can he be a Targaryen?" The head cook was stirring the soup with more vigour than necessary. "His hair is dark and curly and his eyes are almost black. I served here when Prince Rhaegar was a toddler. I saw him grow up. Now that boy was a real Targaryen with deep purple eyes and silver white hair. I bet he was taller than this new King as well."
  
  "All those pompous nobles kneel before him, so it must be true." James, the senior footman ventured but made sure to keep his tone non-committal so that Cook, known for his foul temper would not take offense. Cook liked him anyway since James brought in all the gossip he overheard while waiting on the table of the King.
  
  The cook had stopped stirring and gestured wildly with the large spoon. "These lazy good for nothing highborns are all cowards and wouldn't dare to question his claim. The only thing that makes me consider the possibility that he might be half-Targaryen after all is that the three White Cloaks and Ser Barristan the Bold support his claim. I've never known more honourable men than those knights. It was very welcome news to learn that the three missing ones survived the Rebellion."
  
  "They sure look pretty in their uniform. Did you see the new sigil?" A small young girl that was peeling potatoes couldn't resist joining the conversation. A plump matron named Gilean slapped the side of the young servant's head. "Keep your mouth shut when the senior staff is talking, girl."
  
  "Those knights look even more formidable than before the Rebellion." Gilean addressed the cook as she added more flour to the mixture that she was kneading. "But the King even with dark hair looks very handsome. No wonder the Princess is head over heels."
  
  "I never understood that custom. The only two left of their house and they marry one another." James chimed in.
  
  "Royals follow no rules. They just do as they please." The cook grumbled and checked the ingredients that had been laid out for him to create the meat pies for tonight's supper. "Though I must admit that I have had no complaints so far. Not even when you added too much salt to the bread yesterday, Gilean. At least the new King is not too fussy."
  
  "My brother who has a position in the City Guard spotted the dragons yesterday. If he has dragons, he must be a real Targaryen." Gilean was quick to continue her favourite topic. "My brother's wife even claims she saw the new King and his betrothed riding the green dragon when she was out on the docks two days ago to buy some fish."
  
  "Just what we needed, dragons in King's Landing. We were damned lucky that the Mad King had no dragons." The cook muttered and slammed his fist on the table. "Where are those onions that I ordered? Don't tell me these shrivelled abominations are all I have to work with." He turned to a small boy that sat crouched in the corner trying to be inconspicuous. "You there, make yourself useful and go ask the head housekeeper to come down here and explain herself. Tell her to bring the key to the cabinet with the spirits. I'll need a thimbleful for the sauce I'll be making later."
  
  The young boy quickly got to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen. He ran along the corridor and sprinted up the stairs. He was still catching his breath when he overheard two guards that were patrolling the hallway. He made sure to stay out of sight.
  
  "Think we will be going back north anytime soon?" A tall guard asked his shorter colleague.
  
  "I don't think so. I heard Lady Stark is coming to the capital with her daughters. Too bad the King is betrothed. Lady Sansa would have made a beautiful Queen." Joni knew this younger one that had answered. Not by name no, but the man had once allowed him to hide when he was not where he was supposed to be. In his mind Joni called him his guard-friend.
  
  "Is that why you always choose a redhead in the brothel. You fancy Lady Sansa?" He heard the tall one say.
  
  Joni's guard-friend blushed. "For heaven's sake. Keep your voice down. I don't go around spilling your secrets, do I? Or were you so drunk that you don't remember how you described your secret fantasies to me the other day. I might fancy Lady Sansa but you dream of rescuing the fair blond Princess from her ogre of a Nephew. You even told us how you dreamt that the fair maiden Princess offered you her virginity after you rescued her and then described at length what you would do to her once you had her on your furs."
  
  Now it was the taller guard's turn to look embarrassed. "My dreams don't hurt anyone and you must admit that the Princess is a beauty. And I bet you she is still a virgin. How could a man resist? She passed me by the other day and I could get a whiff. She smells even sweeter than she looks."
  
  Joni had to strain his ears to hear that last part since both guards disappeared from sight when they turned around the corner. The young boy quickly crossed the hallway and climbed the other staircase hoping that the housekeeper was supervising the cleaning of the royal bedroom as usual at this time of the day.
  
  Two young housemaids were busy making a very large bed and didn't see him come in.
  
  "Today the King smiled at me and asked for my name." Sirai, a junior maid sighed. "He looks even more handsome when he smiles. I think he fancies me."
  
  "Don't be silly, Sirai. The King is just being polite and kind. I heard others tell me the exact same thing." This time it was Nila who spoke up. The young errand boy liked Nila. She always ruffled his hair and said he reminded her of her younger brother. Once she even gave him a small piece of cake her mistress had left on her plate.
  
  "Has he asked for your name too?" Sirai asked Nila.
  
  "No, but then I have never encountered him in a hallway. Just ask the guards. The first time he sees them, he asks for their names and then the next time he greets them by it. He remembers them all."
  
  "Next time," Sirai swallowed. "Next time he will speak my name?" She almost swooned.
  
  "Aye." The young messenger made his presence known. "He knows my name and wasn't mad when I bumped into him by accident."
  
  Nila walked over to him and straightened his wayward locks. "Joni, how many times must we tell you to mind where you are going?"
  
  "But I am the fastest and the King was not mad. He is nice. Much nicer than that fat grumpy one we had before. I like King Aegon!"
  
  "Don't we all." Nila remarked drily and looked pointedly at Sirai.
  
  "Don't look at me like that. He is a King, he is young and handsome, not to mention a dragonrider and a war hero. And he has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. How can a girl not lose her heart to him?"
  
  "But he will marry the most beautiful Princess in the entire realm very soon." Joni stated the obvious.
  
  "Yeah, a virgin bride. I overheard her talking with her handmaiden. You know the strange Essosi one? The Princess had her moonblood today. Better now than on her wedding day." She moved around the bed and bumped into the boy.
  
  "Why are you still here, Joni?" Sirai said with a severe look on her face. If Cook hears that you have been dallying."
  
  "Sirai!" Nila admonished her. "Don't tell on the boy and don't scare him. Do you want to trade places and work with Cook all day?"
  
  Sira shook her head. "No way in Seven Hells. And I wasn't going to tell on Joni. The brat is useful. Who else would inform us when the coast is clear so we can sneak out undetected to visit our male friends every seventh day?"
  
  Joni was quick to speak up. "Now it is your turn to help me. I am looking for the main housekeeper. Cook needs her in the kitchen at once. Do you know where she is?"
  
  "She is downstairs tending personally to the King's temporary quarters."
  
  Joni was sprinting down the stairs before she had finished her sentence. He knew very well where the brave, nice King was sleeping.
  
  "A King in such a shabby room and everyone just nods and lets him do as he pleases. I saw him mount the stairs two steps at a time this morning. That leg of his is healed all right." Joni heard the housekeeper muttering to another servant girl, one he didn't know by name. He studied her thoroughly so he could describe the new maid to Lord Varys.
  
  "The new King acts very strange. I overheard him speaking with the fat one, Lord Tarly. You know who I mean?" The housekeeper continued.
  
  "I do." The nameless maid replied demurely.
  
  "Well he called him Jon. Not my King, not your Grace, not even Aegon. Just Jon. And that is not all. Did you know that his Grace has no manservant? He dresses himself and if he needs assistance he asks a Kingsguard."
  
  The young maid made a strange noise. Apparently that reaction encouraged the housekeeper to continue her diatribe.
  
  "Not just any guard. A White Cloak. Can you imagine that? The Sword of the Morning, the noble Ser Arthur Dayne performing the duties of a manservant as if he were some lowly squire? Someone needs to speak up. This can't continue. If word gets out, our young King will become a laughingstock. And have you seen how he always wears the same outfit? No one will take him seriously. No Jerrel, tuck that corner in again. Even if the bed is not fit for a King, at least his furs will be arranged as best we can."
  
  "Oh but they will take him seriously. How can they not? Our Targaryen King has dragons and I am told he is the best swordsman in the entire realm. They claim that he can beat Prince Oberyn, spear against sword, mind you. And my friend was present in the courtyard at Dragonstone a while back where he saw with his own eyes how the King bested your noble Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur."
  
  "Don't believe everything they tell you. And don't fall for the King's pretty face." The housekeeper warned.
  
  Jerrel, the young maid blushed and Joni made sure to remember her name. He liked how soft her voice sounded when she defended the nice King. He listened carefully when she spoke again.
  
  "My lover, he told me that he received a letter from Winterfell from his younger brother. The letter states that Prince Aegon - he was no King yet when he stayed at Winterfell - took on four armed men at once and beat them soundly. He fought with a sword in each hand."
  
  "Just like Ser Arthur?" Joni spoke before thinking, betraying his position.
  
  Joni, what are you doing here?" The housekeeper turned and finally spotted him.
  
  The young boy smiled at the housekeeper and made a small bow. "You are wanted in the kitchen, Ma'am. Cook wants you to bring the key of the spirit cabinet as well."
  
  Even though he would have liked to have heard more, he would earn some extra sweets later when he told Lord Varys all that he had learned today. He had memorised all the words, even the strange one: moonblood.
  
  notes:
  
  Next chapter we follow Gendry to Winterfell.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A stag in Winterfell
  Chapter 38: A stag in Winterfell
  
  Summary:
  
  Gendry visits Winterfell. In the interlude we get to meet Arianne Martell.
  
  The main chapter resumes where chapter 33 ended.
  
  Notes:
  
  Welcome back to my beta Ravenousreadr!
  
  I would also like to take this opportunity to thank all my readers who are still with me after 500.000 words. When I started this project, I never imagined it would get this intense or this long. Each reader that "favorites" my story helps me keep up my motivation.
  
  And now, enjoy the new chapter.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Near Hardhome
  
  "Don't tell me I just missed him." Jaime Lannister jumped of his horse that was sweating profusely.
  
  His eyes wandered from the dragons that were nothing more than small dots on the horizon to the small group who stood there looking as forlorn as he felt.
  
  "You just fucking missed him." Sandor was the one to point out the obvious. "Get used to it. He does that all the time."
  
  "Doesn't seem as if any of you is used to it yet." Jaime eyed the group curiously. "Lord Loras of House Tyrell and Lady Brienne of House Tarth, it is a pleasure meeting you." He bowed in their direction and then acknowledged the others. "Tormund, Edd, Sandor, Gendry and this lady might be?"
  
  "I am not a Lady, I am a spearwife, Sandor is my husband." She hooked her arm through Sandor's to stake her claim.
  
  "Then you must be the Ygritte. Your reputation precedes you. Pleased to meet you as well."
  
  "Stop with the courtesies already. We have no need of your company, Lannister. Crawl back to Castle Black." Lady Brienne bristled.
  
  Jaime chuckled inwardly. The only thing missing was smoke coming out of her ears and nose. He couldn't help but admire her though. She looked formidable. Once more jealousy hit him when he was reminded that she would soon serve as a Kingsguard to King Aegon and he would be stuck at the Wall.
  
  "Brienne," Loras admonished her. "He saved Prince Jon's life. Your Prince will not have us disparage his saviour."
  
  Brienne gritted her teeth. "I apologize. But don't expect any thanks from me."
  
  "None needed." For some reason Jaime wanted to rattle her and at the same time he felt the need to redeem himself in her eyes. "Earning the gratitude and forgiveness of our soon to be King Aegon the Sixth of his name is all I could ever ask for. Just remember when he sends you news of his success that I had some small part in making it happen. And now I need to find something to drink. Excuse me." When he passed Loras Tyrell, he unobtrusively slipped a scroll into the man's pocket.
  
  "I'll join you." Tormund clapped Jaime Lannister's shoulder and both men left a bemused looking group behind.
  
  "Tormund and the Kingslayer drinking and toasting together, this is a strange world indeed." Loras looked at Gendry when he said that. His right hand slowly moved to his pocket and touched the bump. His heart thumped in his chest. Jaime Lannister had come all the way from Castle Black and had slipped him a message in secret. He kept his face blank and did his best to follow the rest of the conversation.
  
  "The Free Folk admire strength." Gendry remarked. "You weren't there. You didn't see what he did. Thousands of us tried to get to Jon and didn't succeed, but Lannister, he found a way. And when he did, the man didn't hesitate to jump right in the middle of hundreds of wights to reach Jon who was desperately trying to make a last stand. I never saw anything like it. The two of them protecting each other's back, standing their ground for what felt like ages. They must have killed at least a hundred wights before the tide turned when they slew two White Walkers."
  
  "Hundreds of wights and two White Walkers? I didn't know." Lady Brienne stammered.
  
  "Well Lannister's appearance just now certainly distracted us from our moment of self-pity." Gendry remarked. "What do we do now?"
  
  "Exactly what our Prince ordered." Loras answered, his hand still resting on his pocket so he could feel the contours of the thick message that was hopefully written by his lover. "We head for Eastwatch, brief the Commander there and commandeer a ship. Lady Brienne and I will sail to White Harbour soon and from there to King's Landing or Dragonstone. You on the other hand will do some sightseeing in the North before joining all of us in King's Landing. I know the Prince asked you to take the men from Winterfell home and Ghost will probably prefer to travel with you to avoid having to board a ship."
  
  Gendry looked around. "Has anybody seen Ghost?"
  
  "Aye," Sandor who had been quietly talking to Ygritte had apparently picked up this last question. "The white direwolf raced after the dragons. I reckon he must be halfway to the Wall by now."
  
  "Dammit," Gendry exclaimed. "I will miss his company."
  
  "Nobody else to keep your bed warm?" Sandor teased the younger man, his arm encircling Ygritte possessively.
  
  "Not all of us are used to the cold here. Besides he is a loyal companion and I felt safe having him near me." Gendry clarified. He had a slight blush on his cheek and attempted to ignore the couple's affectionate attitude they were flaunting in front of him.
  
  "Come on. Let us help the others break up camp. I am eager to head home." Sandor released Ygritte's shoulder and took her hand instead. Together, the two of them walked back to the encampment.
  
  "Home," Lady Brienne sighed watching the couple walk away. "I don't know where that is any more."
  
  "I do." Loras tried to comfort her. "Lady Brienne of Tarth is needed in the capital where she will be offered a home in the White Tower and become Ser Brienne, going down in the history books as the first lady knight and wear a white cloak. Songs will be sung about you, Milady." Loras bowed.
  
  When she didn't reply he tried to get her moving. "Come on, we are both impatient to get to King's Landing. You are not the only one eagerly anticipating a knighthood." Not daring to mimic Sandor's gesture, he gave her a compelling look and set off toward the encampment knowing she had no other choice than to follow since Gendry and Edd were already well ahead of them.
  
  Gendry had indeed walked away no longer willing to hear the others banter. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling of abandonment yet and had followed at a safe distance behind Sandor and Ygritte. He was about to embark on a long trek with men he barely knew. Even though Robb would be glad to see him and probably Arya as well, he had practically invited himself for a stay at the home of the Warden of the North. What had he been thinking, he, a mere bastard of the Crownlands, imposing himself on the esteemed Lady Catelyn of House Stark?
  
  He remembered Jon's parting advice. After conferring with his dragons, his friend had opted to delay his trip with half a day. A good meal and some extra rest was what Rhaegal had needed before attempting to fly across half of Westeros. His dragons had been given several horses to eat. They had been able to take their pick from the poor animals that had to be put down since they were too severely wounded to make the trip home.
  
  Jon had used some of that extra time to advise Gendry on how to behave. "Find some decent clothes in the first town you encounter. Dress the part. By the time you arrive, chances are that your legitimization has already been made known throughout the realm. Do not cower before Lady Catelyn. You will be her equal if not her superior because you are a male. Be respectful but do not demean yourself. You are a close friend to the new King and distant cousin to boot. And don't linger too long in the North. I am eager to start the testing of the recipe for Valyrian Steel."
  
  Gendry doubting Jon's statements had asked him how he could be so sure that everything would change that quickly. Jon had merely smiled and answered. "Don't bet against me this time, my dear cousin. Just give me a few days, a sennight at most and I will be King Aegon the Sixth of my Name."
  
  Against all expectations, Gendry had enjoyed travelling at a leisurely pace along the Kingsroad towards Winterfell. At first he had kept mostly to himself and had savoured the relative anonymity to be had in the company of almost two hundred men. He had used it to slowly adapt and learn the best way to communicate with these men of the North.
  
  First they had lost the Umbers but not before Gendry had been able to acquire a brand new outfit and a fur coat in a small settlement near the stronghold. Lord Umber himself had helped Gendry with the negotiations. Gendry would make a customised sword for House Umber and they in turn would see that the tailor received his due. Soon after they had left the Last Hearth behind, a group of the mountain clans had left them and so it had continued until only the small contingent of men from Winterfell were all that remained of his companions during the last days of their journey.
  
  He had gotten to know these men fairly well and these last few days Gendry had felt happy and free. After exchanging life stories around the bonfires at night, all the men knew of Gendry's origins. The easy-going manners of the young man and his close friendship with the Targaryen-Stark Prince had gone a long way to ensure the men's goodwill. It also helped that there were two soldiers called Snow in their little caravan who were well-liked. Nobody seemed bothered by him being a bastard.
  
  When they had heard of his wardrobe predicament, one of the men had given him directions to a well-known tailor in winter town. Their last day of their travels they had insisted that Gendry put on his only decent outfit he had acquired with the help of the Umbers and had urged him to ride up front. Gendry had not needed further persuading. He had been studying the horizon ever since to catch his first glimpse of the uniquely shaped towers of Winterfell.
  
  That is why it was no coincidence that Gendry spotted the outriders first. Three men on horseback were racing toward them at great speed. Gendry's heart hammered in his chest. Were these men coming here to bring him the news that his visit had been denied or did they carry better tidings? To avoid torturing himself with such thoughts, he admired the way these men rode their horses. He would never be as good an equestrian as any of these men.
  
  "I bet it is young Hullen and young Cassel. I don't recognise the third one." Poole, a nephew of the steward of Winterfell spoke up.
  
  "How can you tell from such a distance?" Gendry asked the young man.
  
  "Because I recognise their style of riding, the way they sit their horse and the kind of mounts they ride. I don't need to look at their faces." His eyes kept watching the three horsemen while he spoke.
  
  "Except for the third one." Gendry remarked drily.
  
  "Except for the third one. Give me some time. Let them come a bit closer." Poole squinted his eyes. "He looks small, perhaps it is one of the younger stable boys."
  
  "Could it be... ," Gendry stammered then stopped.
  
  "I thought you had never been to Winterfell?" The man remarked.
  
  "He hasn't." One of his fellow travellers joined the conversation. "I would know. I know everyone who has entered through our gates. I have been a guard at the gates for several years now. Besides, we are always briefed well in advance which visitors to expect."
  
  Gendry gave him a challenging look. "I have met Lord Robb and his little sister before. Only not at Winterfell. Can it be Arya Stark, the third rider I mean?"
  
  "The Gods be with us. You might be right. She rides as if she was born on a horse. It could be her. Even though it is strange to see the Wild Wolf without Nymeria, her direwolf." Poole's excited look turned sceptical when he uttered this last sentence.
  
  Gendry smiled. "If it is her, then she will have received the message heralding my visit."
  
  "More like Lady Arya saw the opportunity to sneak through the gates. She often tries to pull such a stunt, no matter the destination of the party that leaves the keep." Poole remarked. "More than once we were punished by Lady Stark because we let her precious daughter escape.
  
  "Wanna bet she came out to welcome me?" Gendry spurred his horse. 'Come on, let us meet them halfway."
  
  Soon the two groups met. Arya sat atop her horse, her hair in disarray, her braids having long escaped the confines of the knot they had been arranged in so carefully that morning. Big excited eyes immediately fixed on Gendry. Her small mouth couldn't host a larger smile.
  
  "Gendry, Jon is King! Jon is King! He left an important message for you. Robb said you needed to get it before you saw mother." She yelled the words the moment they had halted their horses.
  
  "Jon is King?" Gendry's face broke into a wide smile as well and Arya nodded enthusiastically.
  
  "King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk. I learned all of his titles by heart already!"
  
  "Praise the Old Gods." Poole said and the other men agreed with a resounding 'aye'.
  
  "Hail King Aegon, long may he reign!" One of the men shouted.
  
  "Long may he reign!" It seemed everyone seemed to welcome the news.
  
  Gendry meanwhile had gotten of his horse and helped Arya dismount. "Nice to see you again, Lady Arya."
  
  Arya made a move to embrace him and Gendry impulsively lifted her up with his strong arms.
  
  "I am no lady, I am a Princess now. But don't call me that, only in front of mother. She smiles each time she hears someone say the word Princess." She told him this quietly close to his ear.
  
  "And will a Princess still be allowed to speak to a blacksmith?" He teased her.
  
  Arya smiled and wiggled her legs. "Put me down so I can perform a very important task. Normally Hullen was supposed to do it but I persuaded him to let me handle it."
  
  "Used your authority as a royal Princess, did you now?" Gendry chuckled.
  
  "Mmph," Arya was trying to reach the buckle of her saddlebag. Since her mount was a very large one, she didn't succeed right away.
  
  "Allow me." Gendry opened the clasp and lifted her up so she could reach inside the bag and take out a thick scroll with a heavy seal.
  
  As soon as her two feet were back on the ground she held the scroll out to Gendry. "See? Jon even has his own seal. He put a direwolf on his sigil! A large eagle flew it to Winterfell."
  
  Arya's spoke loud enough for the entire party to overhear. She thrust the scroll into Gendry's hands who eagerly examined the large wax seal. When the men pleaded Gendry to show it to them, he held out the scroll in front of him but didn't release his hold on it.
  
  "The new King honours the North." Poole who stood closest to Gendry remarked as soon as he spotted the small direwolf head below the three headed dragon imprinted in the wax.
  
  "The blood of the Kings of Winter flows through him and he displays it proudly." Another chimed in.
  
  "To King Aegon, long may he reign!" They picked up the chant again.
  
  "Open already." Arya tugged on Gendry's sleeve.
  
  "Hey take care. I am wearing these clothes for the very first time." Gendry said it teasingly but was glad that she released him instantly and that his sleeve was no worse for the wear.
  
  "Sorry." She kept her voice down so he alone could hear her. "I guess you want to impress my mother. She likes it that people dress up to meet her."
  
  Gendry bowed towards her and whispered confidentially in her ear. "I know. Jon told me." He broke the seal and started to read. His eyes widened. Not only was he legitimized, he travelled to Winterfell as a royal ambassador and his first duty was to deliver an official invitation from the King to Lady Stark. He was to hand her a personal letter from King Aegon.
  
  "What does it say?" Arya made a move to grab his sleeve again but refrained from it at the very last moment.
  
  Gendry bowed. "Princess Arya, Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to Storm's End and next in line to become Lord Paramount of the Stormlands is pleased to make your acquaintance."
  
  "You're a very important Lord now?" She made a face.
  
  "Jon just made me one. But I promise I am not going to be a stuck up one. Just as you are not a stuck up Princess." He smiled remembering one of her rants when they were at the Stony Shore.
  
  "Good, keep it that way." She replied brusquely. "Come on. Act like a High Lord and help a Princess on her tall horse. What are you standing around for? Let us hurry back to Winterfell."
  
  Gendry smiled and lifter her up so she could slip her right foot into the stirrup and lift her other leg over the back of the horse. "There you go, Princess."
  
  "I am no," she stopped. She looked at him with her big grey eyes and continued quietly. "You can call me Princess. It sounds nice when you say it." She blushed but did not avert her eyes. "Perhaps that is because you are my second best friend."
  
  "Thank you, Princess." He smiled and quickly mounted his own horse. She was a delight to be around. He looked forward to his stay at Winterfell even more now.
  
  The men all congratulated him but acted more reserved. Gendry sighed and remembered his promise to Jon. He was to treat everybody as friendly as ever but should respect the fact that they had to adhere to the rules of protocol. He should allow them to address him by his new title when the occasion called for it. It was more for the benefit of the people he would interact with than for himself. Jon had given Gendry several examples of how he himself had struggled with the same situation for as long as he could remember. 'Act kind and just, Gendry. Remember that in private you are still free to behave as before. Just make sure that you spend enough private time with your friends and loved ones. That way you might survive this terrible fate of being a close friend and cousin to a soon to be King.'
  
  When he got tired of the stilted conversation with his fellow travellers, he spurred his horse onward until he rode at the front of their caravan next to Arya Stark.
  
  She smiled when she noticed him. "Are you really a Baratheon?" She asked innocently.
  
  "Robert Baratheon was my father. I never met him though and I doubt he knows that I exist." He shook his head to chase away the bitter mood that always came upon him when he spoke about his birth father. When he saw her biting her lip, he regretted his outburst. He took a breath and leaned closer to her. "Did you know that Jon calls me cousin?"
  
  "You are also his cousin? Does that make us family?" She was animated once again.
  
  Glad that his distraction had worked he replied. "A distant cousin to Jon. We share a Targaryen ancestor. No relation by blood to you, I am sorry. We just kind of have a connection through Jon. But as far as I am concerned we can be very good friends and claim we are both a part of Jon's family."
  
  "Jon is my very best friend and I am his first cousin. I am to visit him soon. I am going to King's Landing and will be able to see him sit on the famous Iron Throne with my own eyes. Mother says he will be wearing a large crown."
  
  "I am glad to hear that you are allowed to accompany your mother to King's Landing. In the message you brought me, Jon orders me to accompany Lady Catelyn to the capital." He smiled to himself recalling the last paragraph of Jon's letter in which Jon asked him for 'the favour' of escorting his female kin safely to King's Landing.
  
  The large gates of Winterfell opened and Gendry looked around with big eyes. From a distance Winterfell had seemed impressive but so had the Red Keep. He had never set foot inside the walls of a large castle though. The most luxurious place he had visited was the villa where Princess Daenerys had lived in Pentos but that had not prepared him for the sheer size of Winterfell.
  
  Stable boys appeared out of nowhere and took the reins of their horses. Gendry dismounted quickly but was too late to assist Arya. She already stood beside him. Servants helped him untie his small bag with personal belongings. The scroll from Jon was safely tucked beneath his belt.
  
  An older man that Gendry surmised to be the steward due to his resemblance to young Poole bowed to Gendry. "Lord Baratheon, welcome to Winterfell. Prince Stark and his mother, Princess Catelyn Stark are ready to receive you in the Great Hall. Allow me to show you the way."
  
  "I can do that, Poole." Arya intervened.
  
  "You are of course welcome to join us, Princess Arya. However, I would advise you to change first." Poole said in a warm fatherly tone.
  
  Arya made a face. "Dratt. I so wanted to see mother's face. Will you wait for me?" Her eyes looked pleadingly at Gendry. "I can be real quick."
  
  Gendry turned to Poole to surmise what protocol dictated in such cases.
  
  "Lord Baratheon can fill you in later, Princess. He better not make your brother wait. And might I suggest you do something about your hair as well?"
  
  Arya touched her braids and found they were mostly undone. She turned to Gendry and all but ordered him. "Go on in then. I'll be there soon." She turned around and sprinted away entering the main building by a side door.
  
  Poole looked a bit worried. "I apologize if the behaviour of the young Princess caused you some discomfort, my Lord. Please don't take offense."
  
  "She was no nuisance. To the contrary, she was charming company and made a boring trip a bit livelier. Don't worry about it and don't tell on her. I sure won't." Gendry reassured the loyal man.
  
  "Of course, my Lord. Thank you." The steward studied the young Lord with a bit more interest. "You were already acquainted with Princess Arya?"
  
  "I had the pleasure of meeting her and Lord, I am sorry, Prince Robb Stark at the Stony Shore a couple of moons ago." Gendry had been so proud he had used the correct formal phrasing only to spoil it by forgetting that Robb was a Prince now."
  
  "Don't worry about it, my Lord. Many of us are not entirely used to the new titles either. You might hear others make the same mistake. It is quite a change, isn't it?"
  
  "It is indeed. When I met Jon, I mean King Aegon of course, he was posing as an small Lord from the Driftmark. We became close and now I find myself to be an intimate friend to the King of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "I know what you mean. He was introduced to us as Lord Celtigar as well. We should have known though. He is the spitting image of his mother. You on the other hand have the true look of a Baratheon, if you don't mind my saying."
  
  "The former King was my father." Gendry looked around and saw several servants were gawking at him. "Shall we go in though? I do not want to make a bad first impression by making them wait."
  
  "Don't worry, my Lord. The King himself announced your visit. You will be treated with all the respect due to your new station." Poole appreciated the fact that the young man stayed humble and friendly instead of acting all haughty and arrogant.
  
  They had crossed the courtyard by now and Gendry looked around once more. Suddenly he realised what he had subconsciously been searching for. "Aren't there supposed to be direwolves running around?"
  
  "Princess Catelyn ordered them to be locked up in the pens so as not to scare you away before you had reached the main building." Poole explained. "She is not very keen on them and uses every opportunity to keep them out of her sight much to the chagrin of her children. Luckily Prince Robb can get her to see reason most of the time."
  
  Gendry looked at him thinking of what Jon had told him about Robb's mother. Apparently Poole misinterpreted his silence when he added nervously. "Better forget what I told you just now. I overstepped."
  
  "I didn't mind." Gendry reassured him. "I am just nervous about meeting Prince Stark's mother."
  
  Poole nodded and they entered the building. They stopped before a large door. "Here we are, my Lord."
  
  Gendry looked at the man and nodded. "In case I do not get the opportunity in there, thank you, Poole. It was nice meeting you."
  
  "Likewise, my Lord." Poole made a bow visibly relieved the new High Lord had been so accommodating and signalled the guards to open the heavy doors. "Lord Gendry of House Baratheon!" Poole announced their visitor at the top of his voice.
  
  "Gendry! Nice to see you again." Robb immediately rose from his chair and met Gendry halfway. He embraced his friend. "I'm glad you decided to come visit." Then he whispered in his ear. "I know it was not on Jon's orders as mother thinks."
  
  "Glad to see you too, Robb." Gendry released his friend and looked nervously at Princess Catelyn of House Stark who had risen and strode towards them in a dignified manner.
  
  He bowed. "Princess Stark, I am honoured to make your acquaintance. You have a lovely home here."
  
  Gendry tried to stay calm under Catelyn Stark's formal look. Jon had predicted this reaction. He had told her that Robb's mother considered herself a lady of superior birth and education and that she would not allow herself to let any resentment she might harbour to shine through. She would probably not be friendly and might act rather cool and haughty. However he was sure that she would not dare to let anyone notice that she looked down on Gendry for being a former bastard from a dethroned King. She would make sure that the only reports that would reach King's Landing would mention that Princes Catelyn of House Stark had offered the royal ambassador sent by her dear nephew, King Aegon, all the courtesies due to his newly bestowed station.
  
  "Lord Baratheon, we are honoured to receive a representative of King Aegon in our home. You are welcome to enjoy everything Winterfell has to offer. You may address me as Princess Catelyn." She held out her hand for the bastard to kiss.
  
  Gendry nervously put his dry lips shortly on the offered palm. "I thank you, Princess Catelyn."
  
  She nodded coldly and gestured the servants who brought salt and bread.
  
  Gendry almost refused the food by stating that he was not hungry when he remembered in the nick of time that this was the customary offering to make clear that a visitor was under the protection of guest rights. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He hoped there were no other things he had overlooked. He really didn't want to offend his hosts. He accepted a small piece of bread.
  
  However, the exact moment that he was about to dip it into the salt, the doors swept open and Arya burst in. Still half in a panic due to his near mistake, the commotion she made startled him and he dropped the piece of bread in the bowl with salt most certainly making the cursed thing inedible. He swallowed thickly but was saved by the fact that Princess Catelyn shifted her attention away from him to scold her daughter for her impudent manners.
  
  "Just select another piece, Gendry." Robb tapped his shoulder reassuringly while he whispered these words in his friend's ear. "And relax. A few more moments with my mother and we can escape to my solar where we can talk in private."
  
  Gendry nodded gratefully and plucked the small lump of bread that had salt sticking to it on all sides out of the bowl and put it to the side. He was still chewing on another piece when Princess Catelyn approached again.
  
  "I believe you are already acquainted with my youngest daughter, Princess Arya."
  
  Gendry put on a formal face but couldn't hide the hint of a smile in his eyes when he looked at Arya. Her eyes danced with barely contained mirth when her mother uttered the word 'Princess'. He clenched his jaw to stave off the burst of laughter that bubbled up when Arya winked. She had not exaggerated. Her mother had a very special intonation when she pronounced the new title of House Stark. He breathed through his nose and attempted to stay serious when he replied rather stately making sure to use the new title of House Stark several times in his reply.
  
  "I already had the pleasure, Princess Catelyn. However I look forward to meeting the two younger Princes and Princess Sansa. King Aegon was so kind as to tell me about them and so was Prince Robb when I was introduced to him at the Stony Shore." He felt the sweat trickle on his forehead and prayed that Robb would tell them to adjourn to his quarters soon enough. He noticed Princess Catelyn purse her lips.
  
  "The Princess Sansa and the Princes Bran and Rickon are with the Maester for the moment. You will be introduced to them before dinner." Her tone was not very inviting and an uncomfortable silence ensued.
  
  Gendry coughed. "Princess Catelyn, if I may?"
  
  "Yes, my Lord."
  
  Her cool formal tone made Gendry even more uncertain but an encouraging look from Robb helped him gather his courage. "I uh, I just wanted to reassure you that I am not intimidated by the direwolves. You do not have to keep them locked up on my account. At the Stony Shore I met with three of them already and since then I have grown quite fond of Ghost."
  
  "Ghost is the name of the King's direwolf." Robb quickly interrupted, noticing his mother quizzical expression. "Don't worry, I'll handle this, Mother."
  
  Robb nodded in the direction of Poole who stood discreetly near the door at the other end of the room. The man smiled and left quickly.
  
  "Mother, Lord Baratheon has a message from the King for me. We will retreat to my solar. I'll make sure we return well in time for dinner so you will have ample opportunity to introduce him to my other siblings."
  
  "Robb?" Arya touched his arm, her eyes pleading with her brother.
  
  Robb glanced toward the door to make sure that his mother was already far enough so she could not overhear them. She was indeed walking away rather swiftly. Princess Catelyn was probably glad that she no longer needed to remain in the presence of a former bastard. She had warned Robb not to be too familiar with the upstart new heir to the Stormlands. Robb however had cautioned her not to offend the legitimised Lord. In doing so they would go against the instructions of the new King. Lord Gendry of House Baratheon was a very close friend and distant cousin of King Aegon. He also was the future Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. They better pay him the respect he was due. Father would not be best pleased if his wife soured the relationship between the Stormlands and the North.
  
  Robb leaned a bit lower and whispered to his little sister. "Give me some time with Gendry first. I'll have a servant fetch you later with some pretext."
  
  Gendry intervened. "We don't need a pretext. I happen to have a very good reason to require her presence later. I might have brought a letter and a gift from the King for her." He thumped his head and frowned suddenly. "I'd have to check though. I remember when I bought those new clothes that I had trouble fitting everything in my saddle bag. I might have left her gift at the Last Hearth." The mirth in his eyes and his broad grin betrayed him though.
  
  Arya was about to burst out or squeal in delight but Robb put his fingers to his lips to signal that she should keep silent. "Don't alert your mother." He whispered.
  
  Arya nodded, stood on her toes and kissed her brother's cheek. "You two are the best. After Jon of course," she added hastily and let her brother leave with Gendry without further protest.
  
  "I am sorry if my sister bothered you. I heard she sneaked out again." Robb looked at his friend while they walked towards the solar.
  
  Gendry smiled. "Why do people keep saying that? I enjoy her liveliness. She makes things interesting, I mean not boring, I mean uh."
  
  "Stop being nervous, Gendry. I know what you mean." He opened the door to the solar and let his guest enter first. "Look carefully, Gendry." Robb closed the door with an exaggerated gesture. "See that. It is just the two of us now."
  
  Robb gave the example by relaxing his stance. "Gods I am ever so glad to see you. It has been rather boring here lately. At least the times I was not in the company of my younger sister." He smiled teasingly at Gendry when he added that last bit.
  
  Gendry's eyes took in every detail of the stately room. His eyes lingered on the cosy chairs near the fire.
  
  "Go on, take a seat." Robb offered. "I am just fetching a pitcher of ale. Or do you prefer wine?"
  
  "Ale, please." Gendry folded his hands in his lap and continued to study his environment. "You have a lovely home, Robb."
  
  "Thank you. I know I am blessed. Now tell me how are you doing?" He offered Gendry a pint of ale.
  
  Gendry took it and immediately drank half of it. "Better now," Gendry smiled. "Gods this is fine ale."
  
  "Home made." Robb answered proudly. "You did well back there, Gendry. You look the part too."
  
  "I had help and got lots of advice. The formal words sound weird coming out of my mouth though." He admitted. "It all feels rather strange actually. For all I am some important Lord now, I still feel like a blacksmith. Luckily Jon told me he will still have need of my skills in the forge. I wouldn't want to give it up."
  
  "And of course, you will obey your King." Robb's seemed tense all of a sudden.
  
  Gendry looked at him strangely. "Of course I will help my 'friend' . And I am glad I can make myself useful that way at least. I am a rather skilled blacksmith and I enjoy creating things."
  
  "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Now it was Robb that looked a little uneasy.
  
  Gendry leaned a bit closer to Robb. "Nothing to be sorry about. How are you doing, Robb? Except for being a bit lonely the times that Arya is not shaking thing up. Are you coping with all your duties?"
  
  "I am getting the hang of it. It was difficult at first though. I freely admit that to you but don't go repeating that to anyone. Certainly not to Jon." Robb stressed that last part.
  
  "I won't if you ask me not to." Gendry answer was a simple and forthright. "I am aware that I will need to learn a lot from Lord Renly Baratheon if I am ever to rule the Stormlands."
  
  "I can teach you a few things if you want." Robb offered. "How long are you staying?"
  
  "A sennight at the most. I am here to issue the formal written invitation from King Aegon to your mother and siblings. Jon also wants me to escort them on their journey. A royal letter to confirm all this was included in the scroll the outriders handed to me."
  
  "I don't know if that is a good idea." Robb remarked a big frown had appeared on his forehead.
  
  Gendry's face fell. "Because I will not always know how to act as a real Lord and your mother will feel insulted?"
  
  "Gendry, you are a real Lord now and you act just fine. It is just, no matter how hard you try, my mother will never treat you as an equal because of your origins. She was raised by Septas you see. The Faith of the Seven looks down on bastards." Robb explained patiently.
  
  "But almost everyone in the South worships the Seven." Gendry looked panicked now.
  
  "Southern Lords also are very protective of their status. You only need to mention you are a cousin and intimate friend of the King. Emphasize that you have been a part of his inner circle long before he became King and they will all want to befriend you."
  
  "But these same arguments will not sway your Lady Mother?"
  
  Robb looked thoughtful. "Actually they might if we go about it the right way. We'll combine forces and make mention of King Aegon every time you feel she wants to snub you. Stress what intimate friends you and Jon are. Drop a few times that you have his ear. Mention that he addresses you as cousin and considers you a part of his small Targaryen family. I will do the same at every opportunity."
  
  Gendry looked uncertain.
  
  "These are not a lies, Gendry. Use the truth to your advantage. You said yourself that Jon has need of your skills. But do not mention you are a blacksmith to mother." He raised his tanker, drank deeply and placed it on the table with an exaggerated gesture to make it obvious that it was empty. He encouraged Gendry to do the same. Then he proceeded to fill both tankers again. "Now let's see, a sennight for me to enjoy your company. We must organise a hunt. You will of course join me in the training yard. What else can we do?"
  
  "Tour the castle, visit the Godswood and allow me some time in the forge when your mother is least likely to notice?" Gendry offered shyly.
  
  "Of course. We can explore the environment as well and visit Winter Town."
  
  "Yes, I will need to visit Winter Town at the first opportunity. I plan to buy some new clothes. I only have this one outfit that is decent enough for a Lord."
  
  "Well then Winter Town tomorrow and a hunt in three days' time. I will need to organize a larger escort for that."
  
  Gendry studied Robb closely now. Except for the tiny part of his finger that was missing he saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were no dark circles under his eyes, no visible bandages although he could not be sure about that because the cold weather called for long sleeves. Robb looked lively enough. "How is your arm, Robb?"
  
  "The Maester has allowed me to resume training. It is frustrating though. The long period of inactivity has apparently made the muscles in my arms non-existent. And it takes time to remedy that. The scars are ugly but they are proof that I survived and am the stronger for it."
  
  Gendry saw the determined look in Robb's eyes. "You look strong, Robb. I am glad." He hesitated not knowing if it was polite to enquire after the scars.
  
  "What is it, Gendry?" Robb was grateful for the young man's company. In Gendry's presence he felt like a protective older brother. Gendry needed his guidance. It felt good to have a purpose, to feel useful.
  
  Gendry gathered his courage and spoke up. "Your scars, do they hurt? Can you describe them to me?"
  
  "You want to see them?" Robb asked softly. Curiosity was better than pity.
  
  "Only if you are willing. I apologise but you see I never, I have never..." Gendry stammered.
  
  "It's okay, Gendry. I'll reveal just a small part. You are not the first to ask and you will not be the last either. Somehow I am glad you asked. I can't explain exactly why your interest touches me. When others ask, I find myself getting irritated."
  
  He carefully rolled up his sleeve a few inches and then lifted the thin bandages. Angry red lines formed an orderly pattern of rectangles. Not a single patch of rosy skin remained though. Thick crusts and strange looking raw red flesh made up the rest of the area Robb had revealed.
  
  "I am so sorry, Robb. Not for how it looks, but for the pain you must have endured when he, when he..." Gendry looked away. His eyes turned back to Robb's face when his friend spoke the f-word.
  
  "Flayed me? It is okay. It took me a while to be able to say it out loud as well. Maester Luwin has been instrumental in helping me talk about it." Robb had no trouble looking Gendry in the eye.
  
  "I am glad for that, Robb. And if there is any way I can help while I am here, just say the word. I am at your disposal."
  
  "Just keep me company as much as you can. Soon everyone is going south and I will be stuck in the North being the Stark that has to remain in Winterfell." Robb's expression darkened a bit.
  
  "Your turn will come I am sure. Your father will return to Winterfell and then it will be your turn to travel to King's Landing. And when you do, we will all be there and can sneak into a room, the five of us and have lots of fun."
  
  "You forget that Jon will be married by then." Again Robb's tone changed when he mentioned Jon.
  
  "Jon told me that when we meet in private everything will still be the same and that he looks forward to our reunion, of all five of us. I am sure that Princess Daenerys will spare him for an evening. He can always return to her side afterwards."
  
  "I guess." Rob sighed. "You have met her in Pentos. What is she like?"
  
  "Young, beautiful and kind, I guess. I didn't see much of her but she didn't strike me as a stuck up royal. She was nice to me and you must keep in mind that when I met her, I was just an insignificant bastard who happened to travel with a few Lords."
  
  "Do you think I will like her?" Robb looked doubtful which Gendry really didn't understand.
  
  "You should ask Jon that but as far as I understand, she was nice to me because Jon introduced me as a good friend. She will certainly try to befriend you. You are not merely his friend. Jon considers you the brother he never had. Don't worry, Robb."
  
  Robb kept his doubts for himself for now and walked to the door. "The sun will be setting soon. I will let the servant fetch Arya. When he returned from a quick talk with a servant in the hallway he asked, 'Do you really have another present for her?"
  
  "I do. Dragonglass daggers for all of you, customized with the Stark sigil."
  
  "Don't show mother yet. Let me prepare her first. She wasn't happy when Arya came home with her sword."
  
  "Well these daggers are a present from his royal Highness, the esteemed King Aegon, the Sixth of his name. You can't refuse such a thoughtful royal gift." Gendry said in an imperious manner. Both young men laughed out loud at the exaggerate speech.
  
  Arya stood still in the doorway with Greywind and Nymeria by her side. The three of them watched both men with big eyes. Her brother was laughing freely with Gendry. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother this carefree and heard him laugh out loud. Gendry rose even higher in her esteem. After supper, she would write a short message to Jon. He would be very relieved to learn that Robb was doing so much better.
  
  Gendry had a really nice time in Winterfell. He got more confident as the days wore on. Robb gave him small pieces of advice and praised him often when they could exchange some words in private after another tedious introduction. He blessed his decision to come to Winterfell before going south and joining the royal court. This was kind of a training period for him. Growing comfortable with his new status was easier with a kind, attentive teacher by his side.
  
  Princess Catelyn had mellowed substantially and not only because it was made clear to her several times - often subtly by her eldest son - what a close relationship the young Lord had with the Targaryen King. Unbeknownst to both young men, Gendry had succeeded because of his beneficial influence on Robb.
  
  Not only Princess Catelyn but the entire household rejoiced in the excellent mood their Prince was in these days. Robb walked around with a happy expression and had not had a single tantrum since the young Lord of House Baratheon had arrived. As a consequence, the servants did everything they could to make Gendry's stay as agreeable as possible. The young Baratheon hardly ever had to ask for anything. All his needs were met before he even realised he had them.
  
  The only thing neither the servants nor Princess Catelyn understood was the young Lord's behaviour towards both Princesses. At his first supper at Winterfell, Gendry had been officially introduced to Princess Sansa and the younger Princes, Bran and Rickon. He had acted as a perfect but distant Lord and had said and done all the right things, nothing more, nothing less. And his behaviour towards the beautiful Princess Sansa had remained that way.
  
  On the other hand, Lord Baratheon was often spotted in the company of Prince Robb and Princess Arya. During these times the young Lord was animated and kind. He also spent time with Rickon. This occurred mostly in the training yard when Princess Arya and Prince Rob were also present. There he sparred with all of them, even little Rickon. Laughter could be heard when Arya bested the Lord once. She had slipped under his arm and had touched his back with her wooden sword. Gendry not in the least put out had joked he should have brought his mighty warhammer since he was invincible when wielding it.
  
  When Princess Catelyn and her eldest daughter had appeared on the ramparts overlooking the training yard however, the young Lord had once more donned a serious mien and had made a formal bow. The entire time Princess Sansa had stayed out there, Gendry Baratheon had checked his behaviour and had remained a mere spectator for the remainder of the training session.
  
  Some of the servants whispered it was because he was too shy and was spellbound by Princess Sansa's beauty. Others claimed that it was exactly the opposite and that the young Lord hardly noticed that Princess Sansa existed. The servants who preferred Arya over Sansa kept their mouths shut. In private they prayed to the Old Gods that Princess Arya might one day become Lady Baratheon. They loved the girl with the wolf's blood dearly but just as her mother they feared that she would never find a husband who would tolerate her wild spirit. They were certain however that the young Lord had taken a shining to Princess Arya and preferred her over Princess Sansa. Perhaps in a few years all would be well.
  
  Meanwhile Sansa was working up her courage to ask Lord Gendry of House Baratheon about Lord Edric Dayne. She presumed that the young men had seen each other beyond the Wall and if not, surely they were staying in touch through letters since they were friends? She hadn't heard any news from Edric since he had left Winterfell. Her mother and father didn't talk to her about potential betrothals any longer. In his last letter, her father had scolded her and claimed that she had proved herself too immature to marry anytime soon. He had given instructions to increase her lesson plan and restrict her free time. If she acted like a child, he would treat her like one, flowered or not. She had cried herself to sleep frequently since then.
  
  When Gendry had arrived she had done her utmost to behave as guarded as possible so nobody could accuse her of flirting with the young Lord. A few days later, she overheard some servants whispering and feared that she had overdone it. Perhaps Lord Baratheon also believed just as some of the servants did that the Princess of the North felt herself far above a legitimized bastard.
  
  The fifth day of Gendry's stay at Winterfell, she had gone to Robb to ask for his advice. Robb had reassured her and told her that Gendry was a really nice young man and a close friend of him. He encouraged her to seek his company and just ask what she wanted to know. Lord Baratheon would certainly be willing to tell her all that he knew about Lord Dayne's wellbeing. When Sansa confessed that she lacked the courage to approach him on her own, Robb had arranged the encounter.
  
  And so Princess Sansa of Winterfell met the heir to Storm's End later that day in the Godswood. Robb had escorted her to the place where he had left Gendry earlier. The young man was bathing his feet in the warm water near the heart tree. Gendry, clearly surprised, sprang to his feet and bowed formally. "Princess."
  
  "Please call me Sansa in this sacred place, Lord Baratheon. Here only the Gods are our witnesses and more importantly my mother is not around to berate us." She smiled encouragingly at the nervous young man.
  
  "Thank you, Sansa. Then in this magical place, I am Gendry." Gendry was relieved to notice that Robb nodded approvingly at the both of them.
  
  "My sister wanted to ask you something, Gendry. I'll be over there if you need me."
  
  Sansa however held him back. "Stay Robb, I am sure you are allowed to hear what Gendry has to say." Her eyes pleaded with her brother to lend her his support.
  
  Gendry frowned not sure what was going on.
  
  "Don't worry," Robb reassured Gendry. "She only wants to ask you if you know how Edric is doing. Just tell us what you can reveal without betraying our friend's confidence."
  
  Gendry's expression softened. He scolded himself for not saying something earlier. He could be such a thickhead sometimes. "Edric is doing fine, Sansa. He was not allowed to take part in the major battle at Hardhome since he was ordered to safeguard the women and children. Together with Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell, he oversaw their evacuation and stayed with them on the ships. This very moment, he is sailing towards White Harbour and from there he will travel directly to King's Landing."
  
  He took her hand when he saw her eyes grow moist. "He spoke of you often. He wanted me to bring you a letter but Jon advised against it. Your cousin said it was not worth the risk. Your father only esteems honourable men. A young suitor contacting his maiden daughter behind his back would have to face dire consequences if ever the letter were discovered. Edric and Jon however will keep up their efforts to try and sway your Lord Father, I mean Prince Eddard Stark."
  
  "Thank you, Gendry." Sansa squeezed his hand only to release it immediately after and hurry out of the Godswood.
  
  Gendry looked at Robb whose expression had darkened the moment Gendry had mentioned that Jon had forbidden Edric to write Sansa. He was quick to defend Jon. "He was right you know. Edric could not write her."
  
  "I know." Robb admitted finally looking troubled. "I have not been a good cousin to him lately."
  
  Gendry eyed Robb with a puzzled expression on his face. "I have never seen two men closer than the two of you. We are all his friends and do not mistake me, Jon is a great friend to have. Whenever we spend time together I feel special and our connection grows deeper. But that is nothing compared to what the both of you share. You two are bound by blood. I have seen it with my own eyes. And when I asked him about it once, he explained that he thinks of you as the brother he never had. Did you know that he was sick when he flew across half of Westeros to rescue you? Sam wrote he was still so weak that he could barely stand on his feet when he left Dragonstone."
  
  Robb hung his head. "That makes my recent behaviour even worse. I sometimes hate myself, Gendry. I look in the mirror and I hate the person that looks back at me."
  
  Gendry gestured for Robb to sit down and took his original position re-emerging his feet in the lukewarm water. He waited for Robb to divest himself of his shoes and do the same. Then he turned his attention back on the topic at hand. "Why do you feel that?"
  
  That simple straightforward question struck a chord within Robb. And for the first time, he was willing to admit to himself and to his friend that he had a problem. "Since I am jealous, ungrateful, resentful. I chased away my uncle because instead of patiently explaining why I didn't need his advice, I accused him of preferring Jon's company to mine. I find myself resenting the fact that Jon is a better person than I am."
  
  Gendry stared deep into the water and mulled over what he had heard. When he started to speak he voiced his thoughts slowly. "I think that every one of us if we are totally honest, has felt jealous of Jon at one time or another." He faced Robb again now that he had found the words he wanted to say. "Hells, I envy him each time I see him interact with Ghost. I love that wolf too but I know that I will never replace Jon in Ghost's heart. I am sure that the feelings you harbour are not so different than ours have been at some point. And if you acted on them where we did not, then I am sure nobody will hold it against you, certainly not after what happened. We are all aware that you have been going through a difficult time lately and have been short-tempered at times."
  
  "My uncle left, Gendry. I literally chased him away. How can he not hold it against me?"
  
  "Let me see if I get this right. You still think you were mostly right about the things you argued about with your uncle but you concede that you could have handled your argument better and you wish that you had been more careful with how you phrased your refusal to heed his advice? Most of all you regret losing your temper?"
  
  Robb had nodded his head several times while his friend spoke and looked relieved to have it out in the open. "Yes on all counts." He expelled a deep breath.
  
  "Well if anybody has a valid excuse to have less self-control for the moment it is you." Gendry stated matter of fact.
  
  Robb shook his head now. "I don't want you all to pity me. I don't need special treatment."
  
  "Not our pity. You have our compassion, our understanding. Write your uncle a letter, an honest one. He is your uncle, your blood. As far as I know him, he will understand and he will forgive you."
  
  Robb remained silent and seemed to be considering this option. "And Jon?" He asked after a while.
  
  "Did you hurt Jon as well?" Gendry threw Robb a confounded look.
  
  "Not directly but if uncle Benjen told him only half of what I said in my anger..." Robb's voice faltered.
  
  "Then write him an honest letter as well. Hells, I was going to write to Jon how well you were doing. He has been so worried about you. He asks after you at every opportunity. He told me he wished he could summon you to the Dragonstone although now that should be to King's Landing, but he had to agree that you are needed in the North. He misses your company, Robb. I know he counts the days until your father returns here and you can travel south. Whatever doubts you might harbour, don't doubt Jon's feelings for you."
  
  "You are a Gods-send, Gendry. Maester Luwin might have helped me to come to terms with what happened to me but your presence has made me feel like myself old self again. Did you know that our hunt was the first time I was able to enjoy such an activity fully since, you know, the Dreadfort?" He made a small hand gesture. "I had been unable to enjoy such simple pleasures. I got startled by the tiniest unexpected noise. Your presence has worked wonders for me, Gendry."
  
  Gendry put his hand on Robb's thigh for a short moment. "What are friends for? We made a pact remember. I would have come for you at the Dreadfort as well if I had gotten the news in time, believe me."
  
  "I know. I know. I am really lucky. From now on, I am going to be grateful for what I have instead of focusing on what I don't have." Robb gave Gendry a small smile.
  
  The young man withdrew his hand and leaned back using his hands for support. "I am sure you can't find a scroll large enough to write down all that you have going for yourself, Robb. Wait until you visit King's Landing and I show you Flea Bottom where I spent the first part of my life."
  
  "I really have been a spoiled brat." Robb shook his head in a self-deprecating manner.
  
  Again Gendry shortly touched Robb's thigh. "Maybe you did behave like one once in a while, however never in my presence. Don't sell yourself short, Robb. How many heirs to a Kingdom would befriend a poor bastard from Flea Bottom?"
  
  "I can't claim credit for that. Jon introduced us." Robb was quick to dismiss the praise.
  
  "He did. But that doesn't mean you couldn't have ignored me most of the time or given me snide retorts. You didn't though. You became a friend."
  
  "That's because I trusted Jon and followed his lead." Robb gave him a small smile.
  
  "And you can still trust him. And be reassured that he still trusts you too." Gendry did his best to persuade his friend that he hadn't lost Jon's good opinion. "Just make sure he knows that you still know that as well."
  
  Robb stared absently at the place where his feet were submerged. "Don't you feel sometimes that Jon is so good, so perfect that we will never measure up and will always come up short?"
  
  Gendry took his time to consider his answer. Finally, he spoke up. "Not really. I am my own person and I know for a fact that Jon is not perfect either. And he certainly doesn't think he is perfect. He struggles with the mistakes he makes the same as we do. Don't forget, if he makes a mistake it can have far-reaching consequences. Haven't you caught him brooding more than once? You tell me you are jealous of him sometimes? Well, at times, I have found myself rejoicing that my life is so much simpler than his."
  
  Robb looked into Gendry's eyes attempting to determine if his friend really meant what he was saying. "Truly?"
  
  "Except for the part about the dragons." Gendry nudged Robb's shoulder playfully. "I would love to fly around Westeros as Jon does. Did I tell you about the time that he tried to get me to ride with him on Rhaegal's back?" Gendry was glad to see the interest flare up in Robb's eyes.
  
  "Rhaegal, that is the green dragon, right?"
  
  Both young men relaxed their pose and Gendry described in detail every attempt they had made to prevent him from getting burned by the hot scales and for the dragons to accept his presence.
  
  A day later
  
  "How did you find me this time?" Gendry asked Arya when she interrupted him while he was making the final adjustments to the sword Lord Umber had commissioned. Robb was in a meeting with some traders and Gendry had reassured him that he didn't mind a bit of solitude and was planning to use this time to complete the greatsword for Lord Umber. Gendry put the sword down and wiped his hands clean on a piece of cloth, eying Arya curiously.
  
  "I sent Nymeria to look for you." She pointed at her direwolf.
  
  Gendry had seen the wolf enter a while earlier but ever since she had entered, Nymeria had been dozing near the door of the workshop. Gendry frowned. "I don't understand."
  
  Arya's face closed off. "Never mind. Now that I found you, wanna go out with me?"
  
  Gendry looked at the sword that was as ready as it would ever be. He decided it wouldn't hurt to indulge her. "What exactly are you proposing, Princess?"
  
  "Only properly escorted am I allowed to go to Winter Town." She looked at him with her big dark grey eyes. "Please? It's been ages. And I kind of need to do something there."
  
  Gendry had already decided to go with her before she had finished her first sentence. He hadn't even needed to hear the word please. He made a mental note to write to Jon that she still knew it existed though. "All right. I will have to change into something more decent first. Are you all packed then?" During breakfast in the Great Hall, he had overheard her mother ordering Arya to complete packing her trunk today.
  
  "I don't need to pack much myself. My personal items only. And some of those I can't pack until the last minute." She gestured at Needle that she wore at her waist. "The rest the servants will take care of."
  
  Gendry put the tools on the shelves where they belonged and followed Arya outside. He startled for a moment when Nymeria brushed him in an attempt to sneak past him so she could venture out first. He had grown accustomed to the presence of the direwolves. Arya almost never went anywhere without her loyal direwolf and somehow both Nymeria and Arya had ended up spending a lot of time in Gendry's company. Mostly Arya and Nymeria arrived impromptu and joined the activity Robb and he were engaged in no matter what that was. It helped that she mostly wandered around in breeches and boiled leather. The only times he had seen her wear a dress was in the evenings when they all changed for supper.
  
  "Is Nymeria coming too?" He asked her when Arya looked back to check whether he was keeping up.
  
  Arya's face fell. "I'm going to miss her so much. Mother won't let me bring her south. All our direwolves need to stay in Winterfell. So yes, she is coming with us today. I want to spend as much time with her as I still can."
  
  "I'm sorry that you need to leave Nymeria behind, Arya. But I am sure Robb and the kennel master will take good care of her."
  
  "And she can play with her siblings. I know." Arya looked resigned but her lip still trembled. "Still I am going to miss her lots and lots."
  
  "Then I will do my utmost to keep you distracted, Princess. I for one am looking forward to your company during the long journey south."
  
  "Me too. At least you are not fawning over my elder sister like all the other Lords. I'm glad you were my friend long before you knew her and before you became a Lord." She had latched onto his arm and together they crossed the courtyard.
  
  "I am also grateful for our friendship, Arya." She had to release his arm when the stood before the door of his guest quarters. "Just give me a moment. I'll be out right away."
  
  A bit later they had exited the main gate and were walking the muddy streets of the settlement called Winter Town. Most of the houses were built of log and undressed stone. A few days ago, when Gendry had visited the settlement with Robb, he had been amazed at how neat and organised the little town looked compared to Flea Bottom. Arya was walking close to Nymeria and petted her every opportunity she got.
  
  "I am sure you will like it in King's Landing. Don't forget that you have the new instructor to look forward too." Gendry once more tried to distract her from the imminent separation of her direwolf.
  
  "Yes! I am glad Prince Oberyn was able to intercept my new teacher in King's Landing before he found a ship heading for White Harbour. I will be able to resume my training as soon as I arrive. At least my mornings won't be boring."
  
  "If you have never been to King's Landing before, I don't expect you to become bored. It is so vastly different from the North and there are so many things to explore over there." Gendry defended the region where he had grown up."
  
  "Have you been to King's Landing, Lord Gendry?" She had stopped petting her direwolf and tucked her small hand under his arm again.
  
  "I lived there for a time, but far away from the Red Keep, mind you. I was just a blacksmith's apprentice then. I can show you the best shops on the street of steel though." He was enjoying their walk.
  
  "Can Jon come too?" She looked up at him, the excitement brightening her eyes again.
  
  "If he has time, he is always welcome to join me, us. But do not forget that he is King now. He will have to attend even more meetings than Robb." Gendry cautioned her.
  
  "Can't he let his Hand handle those? At least while I am visiting? I want him to take me to see the dragons again." Her small pout was adorable.
  
  "If he doesn't have time, I am sure his uh, I mean Princess Daenerys can take you to see the dragons." Gendry prayed he wasn't being overly optimistic promising this.
  
  Arya made a face. "I don't know her and she may not like me. Often stuck up ladies pretend not to see me and if they do they just look all haughty and disapproving."
  
  "Do you really believe Jon would marry a stuck up lady?" Gendry had to stifle a laugh.
  
  Arya's hopeful eyes looked into Gendry's. "You believe the Princess is nice?"
  
  "I only met her shortly but I thought she was nice. Besides, Jon told me she wore breeches when she rode with him on Rhaegal, and she has started sword fighting lessons.
  
  "Then she is lucky to have found, Jon. Mother says I will have to stop training when the time comes to find me a husband. Lords don't want their ladies to fight or wear breeches. If I do not listen I will become an old maid that won't have anyone left to talk to since everyone my age will have married and have their own families. Would you still visit me I became a lonely old maid?"
  
  "That is still a long way off, Arya. I am sure you will prove your mother wrong. In Dorne or on Bear Island there are female warriors who have found a husband. Perhaps there are other areas as well and we just haven't heard of them. I for one wouldn't mind that my wife knew how to fight. That is, if she was willing to put on a dress and make herself pretty and be polite when she had to entertain my family or noble visitors."
  
  "Then I'll ask Jon to find me a husband who thinks the same way as you." She looked at him with her big eyes and he literally saw the thought struck her. "Oh, you could marry me when I have flowered and we can show mother just how wrong she is. It really is a great idea, Gendry. We both wouldn't have to marry people we don't like. You and I will just stay very good friends who live together in a castle."
  
  Gendry shook his head. "Arya, when I marry, I will want more than a friend to come live in my castle. I need a kind woman who is willing to give me heirs."
  
  Arya's face fell. "Oh. I hadn't thought about that. Never mind then."
  
  Gendry looked away and wondered where the conversation had gone wrong. He didn't know what to respond to her last comment. Even if she had recently celebrated her thirteenth nameday, her sheltered upbringing and resistance to all ladylike pursuits had apparently kept her ignorant and very innocent. Still, it was endearing.
  
  Meanwhile, Arya seemed to have made up her mind. "When I am an old maid and mother does not allow me to stay in Winterfell any longer, I can always go live with Jon. Perhaps I can teach his children how to wield a sword. Or I can become a sworn shield, just like Lady Brienne."
  
  Gendry was glad that they had reached the shed where the tailor received his customers. He would do better to choose more neutral topics with Arya in future. The lucky bastard who ended up as her husband would have his hands full with her.
  
  He asked Arya to stay outside and keep Nymeria in check while he picked up his order and paid for it. He was glad that Robb had given him a heavy purse. "Payment from the King for services rendered." Robb had said and let him read the short paragraph Jon had written Robb on that subject. Gendry had accepted the coins out of necessity. It would be easier to pay the tailor in Winter Town without asking for credit in the name of the King. And it was true that he had worked extremely hard these last few moons even though he had never expected to receive any payment for his services. It would be a novelty to be able to pay for his own clothes instead of just wearing cast offs from others.
  
  Both tailor and customer were very satisfied when Lord Baratheon left the shop. He grew worried when Arya and her direwolf were nowhere to be found. When he asked some passers-by whether they had seen Princess Arya Stark and her wolf they pointed in the direction of the tavern. Gendry cursed to himself and hoped Princess Catelyn of House Stark did not get wind of this. Her youngest daughter in a tavern where he knew from Edric and Loras' letters that there were always whores present in search of customers. Encumbered by the large packages he carried, he still hurried along as fast as he could and made his way into the building. His eyes readjusting to the dark interior frantically searched for her small form.
  
  "Gendry! Over here!" he heard her voice call out.
  
  Gendry looked over to the dark left corner where Nymeria lay before a table that seated three men with black beards and yes, one dark-haired Stark Princess. He exhaled deeply and quickly strode over there.
  
  "Arya, this is no place for you. If your mother hears of this..."
  
  "Ladida, they won't tell on me, besides I am helping them."
  
  Gendry studied the men more carefully now. They were all rather young. He guessed none of them was older than he was. "Helping them with what exactly?" He tried not to sound too harsh.
  
  "Writing a... ," she stopped. "That is their business. I can't tell you."
  
  "The Princess is quite safe with us. She just saw me sitting here and was kind enough to offer to pay for the sowing of..." The young man who had spoken up lost his courage and stopped speaking.
  
  Arya sighed. "Mother only paid half price for the tunics his family made for our houseguard. You see his mother is very ill and his younger sister and brother tried to finish the job because they needed the income. Mother of course didn't approve of their stitching. His sister is only my age and I know her well. I wanted to help out but had no money on me. So I am helping this other way."
  
  "Arya, what way are you helping them exactly?" He was still worried but since Arya looked no worse for the wear and he saw only some writing materials. He tried to stay calm for now and kept his tone friendly.
  
  "The man seated closest to Arya spoke up now. This is not the first time Lady Arya helps us in this manner. None of us ever learned our letters." He was quick to explain. "But we understand if she has to leave."
  
  Gendry swallowed and remembered how he wasn't able to write adequately less than a year ago. He kneeled in front of Arya and quietly enquired, "How much did she cut from the normal price, Arya?"
  
  Arya's eyes lit up when she saw him reach for his purse. She whispered the amount in his ear and Gendry put some coins on the table. Then as if it was the most normal thing to do, he gestured for Arya to move aside and seated himself at the table next to her.
  
  Three pair of eyes watched him with growing unease. "My Lord, don't trouble yourself." The youth who had picked up the coins stammered.
  
  "Don't worry," Arya was beaming from ear to ear now. "He is not some stuck up Lord. He was just legitimized and is my second best friend. He is all right and will keep our secret." She scribbled a few more sentences and then handed the scroll to the man that sat across from her. "All done. She won't say no now."
  
  Gendry watched with growing amazement how the man blushed and quickly tucked the scroll away. Realising Arya was already heading for the door, Nymeria close behind her, he stammered a greeting and quickly hurried after her.
  
  Grabbing her by the arm he admonished her. "Arya, don't go wandering off by yourself. It is not safe."
  
  Arya just laughed. "Gendry, I have lived here my entire life. For each man who wants to hurt me, there are ten others that want to defend a Stark with their lives. I am safer here than on the Kingsroad with a group of Stark Houseguards."
  
  Not really knowing how true that statement actually was, he changed the subject. "My business in Winter Town is done. Did you still have somewhere you wish to go?"
  
  Arya explained that she planned to visit the Bakery so she could drop off some pastries with her former nanny that had retired and lived in a small cottage between the walls of Winterfell. And if Gendry wouldn't mind, she would like to give Nymeria the opportunity to catch some fish in the pond that was situated on the other side of the small town.
  
  Gendry relieved that she was safely within his custody, didn't have the heart to refuse her and nodded his assent. The rest of the afternoon they enjoyed each other's company and Gendry had to point out several times how far west the sun had moved before he was able to persuade her to return home with him.
  
  Lady Catelyn sat in Robb's study. They were discussing the upcoming journey when the steward entered.
  
  "Princess Arya has returned and is dressing for dinner, Princess Stark."
  
  "Thank you, Poole." Lady Catelyn sighed and turned to her eldest son. "It will be a trying journey. I am glad we will be travelling by ship for the larger part. At least there she cannot run off."
  
  "She is not so bad. At least she heeded your rules and was properly escorted. Please Mother, do not treat Arya the same as you do Sansa. Arya will make her way in life even if she travels a different path than you would like. These days, many men can appreciate a female who can handle herself."
  
  "You don't understand a mother's struggles. I will never be able to find a suitable husband willing to put up with her wilful ways."
  
  Robb suppressed a smile. "Well, she is King Aegon's favourite little cousin. You can always ask him to secure her a husband if she is still unmarried on her twentieth nameday."
  
  His mother pursed her lips. "Don't joke about that. King Aegon has enough power over us as it is. It is your father's duty to secure an advantageous match for Arya and I will drag her to the heart tree in a nice dress kicking and screaming if necessary."
  
  Robb thought of his Aunt Lyanna but stayed silent. No use in scaring his mother. Arya was still at an age where she felt abhorrence at the thought of kissing a boy. He distracted his mother by reviewing the travel arrangements one more time. He released a deep breath when she finally left him alone.
  
  He had just finished dealing with one of the many issues still pending when a discreet knock made him look up. He smiled and called loudly "enter", certain that this time it was Gendry at the door.
  
  He startled when the head of his youngest sibling peaked through the doorway. He gestured for Rickon to approach.
  
  "Robb, I don't wanna go to King's Landing. Can you order mama to let me stay here with you? I don't wanna leave Shaggydog."
  
  Even Princess Catelyn had to acknowledge that the legitimized Lord looked the part and that his manners were all that was proper. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a hardship to travel in his company after all. Aside from being somewhat handsome, he looked capable, strong and eager to protect them. Never mind the houseguards that came along, these men needed to keep their distance. Lord Gendry of House Baratheon would be able to sit close by their side when they needed to leave their cabins on the ship and dine in the same room with the captain and his senior crew members.
  
  Catelyn once more studied the young man who sat opposite her next to Arya. If she was truthful, she had to acknowledge that she was warming up to him. Due to this young man she had not worried so much when she had hugged her eldest son and said her goodbyes. Robb looked happy and healthier than he had in a long time. She had nodded when Robb had assured her it would all work out. This time she had believed him. She had even followed her eldest son's advice and had left Rickon behind.
  
  Both her daughters were engaging the new Lord in quiet conversation as the carriage rocked slightly while it made its way over the Kingsroad to White Harbour. By the end of the sennight, even her eldest daughter had developed a cordial relationship with the heir to the Stormlands. Also she had to credit young Lord to have accomplished an impossible feat. He had succeeded in getting Arya to stop sulking and accept that it would be better for all parties to leave Nymeria behind. So Catelyn would do as her eldest son had advised and let things be for now. No decisions needed to be made until Ned could get the measure of Lord Gendry of House Baratheon.
  
  Catelyn already looked forward to the sea voyage. It had been a long time since she had been on a ship. And this time she would travel in style. In his letter, King Aegon had promised her she would be escorted to King's Landing by a royal fleet of five of his best ships. He had personally given all the orders to be absolutely sure that his closest female kin arrived safely and swiftly by his side. In the midst of a daydream of her grand entrance at the royal court, she dozed off while the carriage continued its way towards White Harbour.
  
  Interlude 38: What happens in Dorne, stays in Dorne
  
  Nymeria looked at the sky a worried frown on her face. Another day had gone by without a message from her father, Prince Oberyn. That was really strange. A messenger from Starfall had come down to bring them the tidings of the new Targaryen King. Apparently all the Lords Paramount had received official word. House Dayne had received the news from Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning. Once more Ser Arthur was openly the pride of their house again. The tale of how the famous Kingsguard had protected the True King since his birth was spreading across Dorne like wildfire. House Dayne had more than regained its previous status. According to several sources Lady Ashara was the only Lady on intimate footing with the Targaryen Princess who would soon become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Nymeria looked over to Arianne who had joined her on the balcony. "No ravens have come for Prince Doran either?"
  
  "None." Her cousin confirmed. "My father suspects that there is foul play involved. He has sent out messengers to all parts of Dorne and I am here to ask if one of his nieces would want to make herself useful and travel to King's Landing to warn Prince Oberyn that our messages are probably being intercepted by someone who wants to isolate us."
  
  "If that is true and none of Prince Doran's scrolls reached the King either, then King Aegon might think that we do not accept his claim and that we are in open rebellion." Nymaria's frown grew more pronounced. "I'd volunteer to go but Father ordered me to stay here until my mission has been completed. "
  
  "Father signed the decree, didn't he? Wasn't that your purpose in coming here?"
  
  "Yes, but also to help you in case he doesn't want to swear fealty to the new King. He wanted me to guard and protect you in case you needed to seize power immediately."
  
  "But Father has agreed to acknowledge King Aegon, be it grudgingly."
  
  "I have not heard him pronounce the words. It was implied but I heard rumours that he is playing both sides." Nymeria saw that her words startled her trueborn cousin.
  
  "An alliance with Stannis Baratheon? That is unthinkable'" Arianne exclaimed horrified.
  
  "There is mention of Euron Greyjoy as well." Nymeria stayed calm. She did not believe any of these vile rumours and was trying to determine the source of them. She had sent out several loyal men to get to the bottom of this.
  
  Princess Arianne pursed her lips. "That is preposterous. Rumours can be falsified as you should be the first to acknowledge. You better convince one of your siblings to hurry to the capital. I will see to it that my father formulates a watertight message that he supports the reign of King Aegon. We must get that document to King's Landing sooner rather than later."
  
  "I will do better than that. I will get word to one of Varys' birds. I discovered one near the border of the Stormlands. That way they will get word that we have been cut off and are not ignoring the King's demand for fealty. But your father is wrong in sending only a bastard to the new King. He should send a delegation of trueborn nobles."
  
  "And he will, but such things take time. Besides, Uncle Oberyn is his closest relative and belongs to the King's closest circle. Uncle can read Father's pledge out loud before the Court if need be. And from what you told me of the new King, he will receive your sister with the utmost courtesy."
  
  "The King will. But the Court might get the wrong message and will think Prince Doran is showing his contempt by sending a mere bastard. Your priority is to make sure that Uncle Doran drafts that message without delay. Convince him that it is no use to wait for a raven form King's Landing. I'll be relieved when uncle puts his allegiance on paper and erases all doubts."
  
  The Dornish Princess nodded. "Tell me, the new King, what is he like? I heard you met him."
  
  "Twice. I met him twice. Only briefly at Greywater Watch but later we spend a little time together at Castle Black."
  
  "And?"
  
  Nymeria sighed. "Even though he looks like a Northerner and mostly acts like one he is exceedingly handsome. I am inclined to call him charming in a shy kind of way. He is also very skilled with his sword. I heard he bested Ser Arthur in single combat and that he often takes on several skilled fighters at once and comes out on top."
  
  "Your every wet dream then?" Arianne smiled knowingly.
  
  "Not entirely. He is too modest, too honest and doesn't indulge in flirting. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't a ladies man, if you know what I mean."
  
  "Now that is just your jealousy talking. Ser Arthur claims he is besotted with the Princess and she with him."
  
  Nymeria swallowed. "Perhaps. I will keep my counsel until I see the both of them interact."
  
  "Fair enough." Princess Arianne said absently her thoughts already back to the problem at hand.
  
  "Now if you have any advice on how to handle my father..."
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter covers day nine of King Aegon's reign. The interlude once more takes place in the North. We follow Renly Baratheon and Stokeworth on the way to White Harbour to meet up with Loras Tyrell.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Day nine in the reign of King Aegon VI
  Chapter 39: Day nine in the reign of King Aegon VI
  
  Summary:
  
  Another busy day in the reign of King Aegon. The events of chapter 38 have not transpired yet.
  
  Notes:
  
  I know I am taking my time describing his new reign and the plot is not moving forward much. I am not sorry in the least. I am enjoying the interactions of all these characters that either meet King Aegon for the first time or have to adjust to Jon's new status as King. Things will only start moving faster after the wedding ceremony and honeymoon are behind us.
  
  Warning: discussion of past abuse and torture by the hands of Ramsay Snow.
  
  Thanks once more to my beta Ravenousreadr for being there when I need her.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  
  Day nine in the reign of King Aegon VI
  
  Jon felt like reborn. His training session had gone even better as the previous one. He hadn't lost any of his reflexes. His technique had not suffered either. He just needed to rebuild some stamina and muscle strength to regain full movement of his right leg. Jon reckoned it would take no more than a sennight before he was back to the level where he had been before he had gotten hurt. From there onwards he would strive to improve further. Today, Ser Arthur had mostly encouraged him instead of commenting on his every move. The Sword of the Morning had fallen into step behind him joined by a new recruit as they left the training yard, but not before Jon had noticed the pleased expression on Ser Arthur's face.
  
  For now, his Kingsguards took it easy on him when he faced them one on one. They refused to go all out until his leg was fully healed. And Jon remembering the Maester's words complied but made sure to work hard on exercises that didn't strain his leg overly much but still left him on the brink of exhaustion, his mind clear and focused and his mentors very satisfied.
  
  Still he couldn't wait to get back to his previous form and experience that strange feeling again. He yearned for that out of body experience, to feel once more as if not he himself, but the Gods were guiding his body, his every movement. It had certainly felt that way at Hardhome when he had been sure he was going to die. He had not panicked. Instead he had become very calm and his body had gone through the motions doing everything to stay alive as long as possible. Jon knew he had never fought better than at that instance. Against all odds, he had held out until the giant and later Jaime Lannister had come to his aid and even then, he had somehow been able to continue fighting as long as needed. Even though Jon had been thoroughly exhausted, he had never lost his mental strength. His mind as well as his body had been convinced that the Gods wanted the living to prevail and he had not wanted to disappoint them.
  
  Now that he had found time to dwell on that a bit more, he wondered how much of what had happened on that battlefield had been his doing and how much had been due to the Gods' timely interventions. Had the Old Gods or any other deity guided Mag the Mighty and Jaime Lannister to his side? Was it actually possible that these Gods had to some extent influenced his actions and guided his sword? And if so, why had they not done more sooner? Why had they let things get that dire? He prayed daily to be granted clarity and guidance for the future but had not received any signs yet, or at least not ones he had recognised.
  
  Perhaps it was because of the lack of a real Godswood in King's landing. The Godswood or what passed for it at the Red Keep was a poor imitation of a northern Godswood. The heart tree was not a weirwood tree at all. It was just a great oak covered in smokeberry vines. Red dragon's breath grew below the oak. After seeing this poor mockery of a heart tree the first time he came to pray in the Godswood of the Red Keep, he had immediately sent a raven to Howland Reed with a request for a sapling growing under the very ancient heart tree of Greywater Watch to be sent to him as soon as possible. Lord Reed had promised to bring it with him when he was ready to travel to King's Landing to officially pledge House Reed to the Crown. Uncle Benjen's journey had been an unexpected boon and the new sapling had already been planted. For now the area where it grew had been cordoned off by a wooden grid to give the young heart tree the necessary protection. He prayed that despite its size, the slim weirwood would contain enough magic already to allow the Old Gods to bear witness to his marriage.
  
  Even if his muscles were a bit tired from the training session, Jon's step was light when he walked along the hallway to his study with his direwolf firmly glued to his side. His mind was clear and he was ready to tackle the issues that surely would present themselves today. Every day there was another small fire to put out. However much they planned and debated, some unexpected issue always popped up. But today, he felt ready to deal with anything. He nodded to Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur and closed the door behind him.
  
  Now that he had for the most part come to terms with what had happened during the battle at Hardhome he felt ready to talk about it to his advisers. He knew they had been waiting patiently for him to open up, Ser Gerold certainly, but Dany even more so. He smiled and let his thoughts wander to his betrothed. Now seated behind the large desk with Ghost's calming presence nearby, he ignored his messages and pictured how enticing she had looked last night, reclined on her bedfurs talking animatedly about how she had reorganised some of her new duties.
  
  Dany, his future Queen had a full schedule these days as well. She was present at every small council meeting and court session. The rest of her time she used to oversee the reorganisation of the royal household that had been severely neglected these last few years and coordinated the wedding preparations. She had sent food to all the orphanages in King's Landing and was closely monitoring the reports on the situation of the poor in Flea Bottom. She also stayed in touch with the craftsmen on Dragonstone and the Driftmark as well as with the women who were still producing banners and sails with the Targaryen sigil. On her command they had switched to altering the sigil on these sails, adding the white direwolf so they proudly displayed King Aegon's personal version of the Targaryen sigil. Lady Dayne was assisting her with the household matters and proved a calming influence while also bringing valuable experience to the table. She was urging Dany to pick some ladies-in-waiting. For now, Lady Ashara was her chaperone when Dany consented to a rare private audience to noble ladies of the more important bannermen. Irri was only present when they were sure their guest would not take offence. Dany had held firm that she would wait until after their honeymoon to start appointing ladies-in-waiting.
  
  'Five more days,' a small smile lit his face. Tomorrow was the first day of the tournament that would last for four days and the day after was his wedding day and the official coronation of both him and Dany. Dany would make a wonderful Queen who would take an active part in his rule. He had no doubt that she would be a loving wife and an excellent mother to all of their children. There were no hick ups as far as that part of his life was concerned. Things with Dany couldn't be better even if leaving her last night to go back to his lonely room had been torture. She had been more radiant than ever after a promising visit with the dragons.
  
  They had been out to see the dragons several times already. After their first escapade, Ser Gerold had been reassured it was fairly safe to do so. They had accessed the beach easily by way of the secret underground passageways of the Keep. And since the City Watch had sealed off that part of the beach and the woods, the safety and privacy of the royal couple had been assured. Where Ser Gerold was mostly concerned with the first, Jon and Dany appreciated the latter. Their two Kingsguards always kept a discreet distance once the couple was close enough to their dragons to be safe and they made sure that the new apprentice guards did the same.
  
  Ser Gerold had upped their security significantly. Jon and Dany could go nowhere without being flanked by two of their usual protectors and a contingent of guards that were a mixture of Stark guards and candidates for a position in the Royal Guard. Jon hoped that the Stark guards would soon be replaced by sworn in members of their own Royal Guard. For now they were all grateful for the loyal service of the Northerners.
  
  Ghost accompanied the royal couple as much as possible and Jon cherished his presence as much as the extra protection he provided. Still, he kept him away from the official court sessions and royal banquets. Sometimes, Jon ordered Ghost to guard Dany instead of him when their duties separated them. Certainly when he knew she would venture outside the confines of the Keep. He was glad that Dany had taken so well to Ghost. The loyalty of his direwolf to his betrothed had never been in doubt. The pack was all that mattered to a wolf and Dany was his pack. The best example of this theory was that Ghost and the dragons tolerated each other. Ghost considered the dragons a part of his pack too. Jon was convinced that the dragons and the direwolf would come to each other's defense if necessary.
  
  Each time that Davos submitted the itinerary for the next two days for Jon's approval, Jon checked whether the visit to his dragons had not been cut. Davos soon learned that for now his King regarded these visits in the company of his betrothed as a top priority and despite the many demands on their time and energy, the royal couple visited the dragons on the beach at least every other day in the latter part of the afternoon.
  
  Jon sensed that Viserion was starting to warm up to Dany. She had been giving the silver white dragon a lot of attention and always talked softly to him in High Valerian. At first Viserion had pretended to get bored quickly and had flown off in the middle of Dany's attempts, leaving Jon and Dany on the ground with only Rhaegal to lavish their attention upon. The couple took his behaviour in stride and acted as if nothing was wrong. Their visit always ended with a short flight on Rhaegal's back. It was during their third meeting that Viserion had purred for the first time when Dany had stroked the scales beneath his eyes. Dany had been elated and Jon has sensed that that had been significant progress.
  
  He recalled Dany's plea all too well. She had argued that even though she did not have a natural bond with the dragons as he had, nothing stood in the way of attempting to cultivate a bond slowly. The Dragonriders of old weren't wargs either. Surely some of them also had needed to learn to communicate with their dragon. Jon had only been too willing to share her hopes and was helping her as much as he could. The only thing he had forbidden was using a whip even if he knew that some of his ancestors had needed it to tame their dragons.
  
  It was a fine line though between not betraying the dragon's confidence and helping his betrothed. But for now he was managing it well enough. Yesterday, Viserion had stayed on the beach with them the entire time and had flown alongside Rhaegal during their short flight. Dany had returned to the Keep in high spirits. She was sure it was only a matter of time now before he would allow her to ride him.
  
  It was a struggle for Jon to keep up with his duties and find time to interact with his family and loyal entourage in a less official capacity. He quickly realised that it would be a challenge to find a few moments to spend with his Uncle Benjen. Summoning him to his study was not what Jon had intended when he had pictured the both of them living in King's Landing. Luckily the tournament would start tomorrow and then the court sessions would be suspended for the entire duration of the tournament. There were still the banquets in the evening to attend though and the champion's celebration on the last day.
  
  During the days following his wedding, his small council would conduct the business at hand without him for a few days. Jon had asked for a short reprieve so he and Dany could spend a few days in relative privacy. He planned to split this time between Dragonstone and the Driftmark. Jon had opted to travel by ship so Ghost and his Kingsguard could come along. He had given Ser Gerold strict instructions and the knight had promised to allow the couple as much privacy as possible. Davos, his uncles, Sam and the rest of his advisers would stay in King's Landing and oversee things there. Davos had promised to contact him only if absolutely necessary. They would send daily status reports to Ser Gerold. If Jon felt so inclined, he would have access to the necessary information simply by questioning his Lord Commander.
  
  His eyes fell on the newly arrived scrolls that Sam always left on a large tray neatly positioned at the left front corner of his desk. His friend had scavenged it from the kitchens. He had gotten desperate one day when Jon couldn't immediately find an important message from White Harbour. This way at least, the unread messages were separated from the rest. Sam had also put in extra shelves in the cabinets that lined the walls of his study. Each shelve had a label with a code for the Kingdom followed by the name of a House and or Keep. Sam had taken great pains to arrange the order. They were grouped per Kingdom and then somewhat geographically. Jon had to admit that the system worked. The messages themselves were predominantly ordered by date received, the most recent ones lying on top. Still his desk remained littered because Sam only allowed the messages that had been answered to be put in the cabinets along with a copy of their answer.
  
  Today was the first day since the start of his reign that their two day routine had been disturbed. The small council meeting had been cancelled since most of his entourage needed to deal with last minute preparations for the tournament. Jon had the rest of the morning to scan the new messages, review the new drafts Sam and Davos had prepared for his signature and read a part of the book that Sam had urged him look at as soon as possible so they could discuss it before he left on his honeymoon. It was high time to stop daydreaming and get started.
  
  A bit later that same morning
  
  Jon's eyes fell on the lists of names that he had been handed. Ser Gerold and Ser Davos had just given them their daily progress reports and left. His Lord Commander was finally making headway and Jon studied the latest version of the list with candidates that had started an intensive training program. He recognised the names of most of the houses but could not put a face to most of these young men. Ser Gerold had opted to only recruit young men. According to his Lord Commander, it was easier to get them to adapt to the rigorous rules and restrictions. They were also more accommodating to suggestions to change a vital part of their fighting style.
  
  Jon had lost the argument that a mix of young recruits and battle hardened warriors would be the better option for now. Ser Gerold had argued that thinking long term was the only sound option when it came to organising the safety of the royal family. The loyal battle hardened men would be instrumental in putting down a possible rebellion or fighting the enemy beyond the Wall. Reminding himself that Ser Gerold had been doing this long before he had been born, Jon had bitten his tongue and relented. He had masked his concern when Ser Gerold informed him that probably barely half of these candidates would eventually be offered a position. Jon already commiserated with the ones that wouldn't make it. But most of all he was concerned by the fact that Ser Gerold insisted on a training program that would last several moons.
  
  He was not blind. He saw how exhausted his four loyal guards looked at times. Ser Barristan's state of health worried him the most. Even with the addition of Ser Jorah, it seemed that Ser Barristan was always on duty. He had discussed that with Ser Gerold, urging him to lighten Ser Barristan's schedule.
  
  "Your Grace," Ser Gerold had argued. "I bring you the reports every morning. I faithfully inform you of every attack on your or the Princess' life that has been thwarted. And even if up until now, these are mostly desperate attempts of a single assailant, we must be prepared for your opponents to become more organised. Lord Varys already sabotaged one larger attack. I prefer to have at least two of us close to you at all times."
  
  "Then at least at night, let other men take over." Jon had tried to persuade his Lord Commander.
  
  "Even then, I can't in good conscience leave both of your safety entirely in the hands of uh others, your Grace. But perhaps only one of us with several of Lord Stark's most trusted men will do. Benjen Stark volunteered but I hesitate to ask the Prince to stand guard during part of the night."
  
  "If he volunteers then why not accept his help for a few nights to allow the four of you a bit more rest? I had expected Ser Jorah's presence would have provided some relief to Ser Barristan. I hope you consider him a trusted addition to the Queen's Dragonguard without putting him through several sennights of tests first? The Princess vouches for him." Jon had trouble to keep the exasperation he felt out of his voice.
  
  "That is for Ser Barristan to decide. Ser Jorah is now an official member of the Dragonguard. As his Commander, Ser Barristan decides the rotation schedules. I'll keep a close eye on the situation. I promise, your Grace. Things will improve soon anyway. In a few days' time, we will only need to guard one royal bedroom. In a moon's time, the Kingsguard will add two more members when the ones you appointed will arrive in the capital."
  
  Jon had blushed slightly when Ser Gerold mentioned the one bedroom but had frowned at his tone when he spoke of the two additions. His Lord Commander was still no totally reconciled with Jon awarding Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth a position on his Kingsguard. Once more he spoke up firmly to defend his decision. "I trust Lady Brienne with my life without a moment's hesitation. Loras Tyrell as well, even though the behaviour of his kin may make his position a bit awkward. Give them a chance, Ser Gerold. Their hearts are true and their fighting styles can only improve with your guidance. They're still young and very eager. You will have no trouble moulding them into excellent White Cloaks."
  
  "If you say so, your Grace. I shall insist that they learn their place and adhere to protocol. It won't do for them to hug the King they are supposed to guard."
  
  "They will understand that, Ser Gerold. And I am sure you will remind them of it often enough. Just get us through the tournament and wedding and things will settle down after that. The Keep and the city will be less crowded and the smallfolk will go back to their lives."
  
  "If only. We will have a war to prepare for in all probability." His Lord Commander had muttered but had left soon after.
  
  Lady Brienne, Edric and Loras were still on their way to White Harbour for now. Jon had sent a message for them to the northern port ordering them to wait for Lord Renly Baratheon and Stokeworth to join them before departing for King's Landing. If all went well, these two would reach White Harbour that same day or soon after. In any event, best case scenario, his two new Kingsguards would still need a moon to arrive. He hoped the others could cope until then.
  
  Jon had received confirmation from Cotter Pyke that Renly Baratheon had left at first light on the morning after his pardon had arrived by raven at Castle Black. As ordered a few men had accompanied him until he met up with Stokeworth who had set out from Eastwatch after learning of his royal pardon. Jon still had to receive the first report from Jaime Lannister but the Lord Commander shortly mentioned him. Lannister's deeds at Hardhome were well-known at Castle Black. At the very least Jaime Lannister was now treated with respect be it sometimes grudgingly, Cotter Pyke had written.
  
  After Ser Gerold had left, Davos had entered. He had submitted the daily update of the already rather long list of Lords that had sworn allegiance. The one with the Lords that were on their way to the capital remained impressive. As it should be, the last one enumerating the houses that hadn't responded yet grew shorter. Jon very much looked forward to the arrival of Howland Reed. The Lord of Greywater Watch would bring his cousin Bran and both his children, Meera and Jojen along. Lord Domeric of House Bolton had announced his arrival as well. He would be accompanied by some minor Lords. The young Lord of the Dreadfort had included the request for a private audience in his message. He also reminded his King that he was willing to offer his hand to any bride the King would deem fit.
  
  In the North, there were several loose ends that needed to be tied up. Theon was recovering well in his confined quarters at Winterfell. A decision needed to be made regarding House Bolton. A collaboration between the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the Lords of the North, but more importantly, a treaty between the Free Folk and the North, perhaps even with the Seven Kingdoms had to be negotiated.
  
  He still hadn't found the right opportunity and neither the correct tone to hold an honest talk with Uncle Ned to address how the North was being ruled for the time being. He needed to walk a fine line so as not to appear to be meddling too much. Still as King of the Seven Kingdoms, he had some say in the arranging of a betrothal for Domeric Bolton, the decision on how to reshape his house and the fate of Theon Greyjoy, did he not? Was he not the Protector of the Realm and the wrong decision here could endanger the peace and consequently the people he was obliged to protect?
  
  Together with Davos he had been looking at prospective brides for Domeric Bolton already. Shireen had been considered but not withheld, one of Oberyn's daughters if her father and the girl in question agreed for her to be legalised, almost every available northern maiden had been discussed but in the end, Jon had decided to postpone any suggestion he would put before his uncle until he had first gotten to know Domeric Bolton better and had heard him out. He hoped the young Lord was amenable to change the sigil and name of his House and Keep. Lord Bolton's message had not hinted at any of that."
  
  He mentally reviewed all the issues Davos had brought forward. They had only been able to discuss the economic and financial state of half of his Kingdoms and were still searching the books to find out when the next payment of taxes was due for each of them. They had also decided to hold one short small council meeting before his wedding. At the very least, they needed go over all the pending topics and decide which ones the council could move forward with and which ones they could delay until the King returned to King's Landing. Davos and Jon agreed on most of those but hearing it from their King personally would go a long way in silencing the rest of his council should they disagree with Davos' decisions. Until now nobody had questioned Davos' authority but Jon had always been there to back him up. This would be the first time that Davos would be put on the spot since he spoke for a ruling King.
  
  Jon had every confidence in Davos however. He also knew that his Hand would not disturb his honeymoon if not absolutely necessary. Pledges of fealty would be suspended for a while. Davos would hold court and note their intentions, but they all agreed that each Lord should have the opportunity to meet with the new King face to face. He went over the list of Lords that still needed to respond and sighed when he read the first two lines, House Baratheon and House Martell. 'Give it time.' The wise voice of Davos rang in his ears once more. Jon would give it time but he had noticed that Prince Oberyn was starting to get antsy. His jokes had lost some of their light-heartedness and the confidence and arrogance he always exhumed had dimmed a little. "Give it time." This time he spoke the words out loud.
  
  In any event, they could not undertake any action before his reign was at least a month old. Some of the Lords on this list could be away from home or the ravens could have failed to arrive for some reason. The announcement of his reign was sent out by raven and the more important ones had been backed up by a royal messenger who would bring a copy personally to the recipient and then report back to King's Landing. Before these messengers returned, he had no reason to worry. Besides, he had given the Lords six moons to respond. Jon shook his head. He should have formulated that better. Six moons to arrive in King's Landing and swear fealty in person was a reasonable term but he should have insisted on receiving a raven with their intent to do so immediately on receipt of his request. It would be a long wait.
  
  He put the list down and let his eyes wander to the newly arrived scrolls awaiting his perusal. He quickly chose the one with the primitive seal that he recognised as Sandor's and started reading. Things were going well beyond the Wall, he wrote. The Free Folk leaders were opening tentative trade negotiations with the Night's Watch. Mance Rayder would be the spokesman and Sandor had been ordered to keep his mouth shut. Jon smiled when he read that. Tormund and Sandor were great people to have as company, the best warriors to stand beside on a battlefield but not one's first choice when one needed to mince one's words and stay respectful and diplomatic. More importantly, the scroll made mention of the first scouting reports. All was quiet. Sandor promised to send an update every fortnight.
  
  As soon as his reign was firmly established, he would have to start the negotiations with both parties to set up a settlement for the Free Folk in the Gift, either a temporary one for the non-fighting community of the Free Folk, or if possible a more permanent one where clans could take turns living. The Lords of the North would insist on cordoning of the area first, that is if they agreed at all. The willingness of the Free Folk was not assured either. Jon was well aware that the Free Folk were nomads and in normal times, changed settlements every few moons. They would not be keen on being sequestered in a closed off settlement. He turned his attention back to the scroll and finished deciphering the barely legible handwriting of Sandor.
  
  He was just about to open a message from Robb when Ghost jumped up and headed for the door. And sure enough the knock came moments later. As soon as he gave leave to enter, Ser Oswell's head appeared. Prince Stark is here to see you, your Grace. Eddard Stark." He clarified belatedly.
  
  "Thank you, Ser Oswell. Let him enter."
  
  Ghost stepped aside to allow his uncle to approach the desk but Ned Stark kept close to the doorway. Jon sighed. Nobody approached him without being given permission anymore. Not even behind closed doors, no matter how many times he told them all to relax in private. Sometimes it seemed as if one day they had all woken up with the notion that he was some legendary person while he still felt like the same flawed human being he had always been. He motioned to one of the two chairs that stood on the other side of his desk and smiled encouragingly at his uncle.
  
  "Please take a seat, Uncle Ned. Shall I ask for the servants to bring us some refreshments?"
  
  His uncle approached and but did not sit down yet. He kept his posture stiff. "I'll alert them if you yourself are in need of something. I am good, thank you."
  
  Jon shook his head more out of frustration than to convey that he was not in need of refreshments either. His uncle finally took a seat and Ghost resumed his former pose and closed his eyes.
  
  "I am glad you're here, Uncle. We've had not much opportunity to talk in private. Things have been so busy. Have you had word from Winterfell?" Jon looked longingly at the letter from Robb that he had not yet had the chance to read.
  
  "I have. My wife has decided to undertake the journey to King's Landing. Sansa, Arya and Rickon will join her. That means I am expected to stay in the capital for another two moons at the very least."
  
  "I for one consider that excellent news. I will have the advantage of your wise council a bit longer, Uncle. And you will see your wife again. I'll make the arrangements for a fleet of five ships to escort them here from White Harbour. We will give her all the pomp and circumstance she cherishes."
  
  "Thank you. I wanted to discuss the timing of their journey with you."
  
  "Why is that, Uncle?"
  
  "You wrote to Robb that the recently legalised Lord Gendry of House Baratheon was set on visiting Winterfell before coming here and that he should be treated with the respect that an heir of the Stormlands and close friend of the King was due. It would be disrespectful for my wife to abscond with both her daughters mere days before he arrived. She can't in good conscience leave before he leaves as well."
  
  Jon frowned. He quickly calculated when Gendry was supposed to arrive at Winterfell. Probably two to three days from now he concluded. "Gendry won't arrive for another two days. I didn't mean those words so literally. I just wrote that to Robb to make sure that Gendry would not be treated as a bastard over there. That being said, not only would it be disrespectful, it would also be a disappointment for Gendry not to see Arya again. And to miss being introduced to Sansa and your wife of course." Jon added quickly.
  
  "I'd like to be a fly on the Wall of Winterfell to witness Arya's reaction once she learns that the new Lord Baratheon and the most wonderful blacksmith in the entire realm is one and the same person. Arya mentions a certain Gendry and how pleased she is with her little sword at least once in each letter I get." Ned had finally relaxed a bit and offered Jon a small smile.
  
  "That and how much she has improved her sword fighting skills." Jon smiled back. "Her messages to me are not much different."
  
  "Indeed. Arya sure has taken a shine to the boy. And you mentioned that he wants to see her too?" Ned clearly had an agenda when he asked that question.
  
  "He likes her fierce loyal spirit and innocent babblings, just as I do. Like a big brother indulges his younger sister and finds all her antics endearing, Uncle. Nothing more, nothing less, I am sure." Jon's tone was firm.
  
  "Even so, it would be a good match for both houses. Can't you see that?" His uncle probed again.
  
  "Be careful what you wish for, Uncle. Are you really going to force a young Wild Wolf into a betrothal with a Stag? Besides, you should know better than to reveal your expectations to Arya. The only way that it could ever work out between the two of them would be to let her come to think of him in that way of her own accord. Perhaps you should forbid her to call him her friend. That would have more of a chance of getting her to seek him out." Jon held his uncle's eyes and Ned Stark was the first one to look away.
  
  He looked a bit put out and deflected. "All this hypothetical talk hasn't solved my issue. When can I in good form allow my wife to leave Winterfell?"
  
  Jon rubbed his chin. "What if they entertain Lord Gendry of House Baratheon for a sennight at Winterfell and then travelled under his protection to King's Landing? I could get word to Gendry and ask him to do me the favour to ensure the safety of my aunt and cousins."
  
  "That could work. They need some time to make the necessary travel arrangements anyway. I will insist on a large escort."
  
  "That will leave Robb really isolated at Winterfell. He will be the only Stark in Winterfell. Best leave enough trusted men with him. How is Robb doing by the way? I just received a letter from him and was about to read it when I heard you knock." Jon's eyes wandered to the scroll before him.
  
  His saw his uncle grow a bit uncomfortable. "Do you refer to his health or to him not getting along with my brother?"
  
  "To both, but let us start with the first. I know from Uncle Benjen that Robb's arm is no longer heavily bandaged and that he started with light training sessions already. Have his nightmares lessened?"
  
  Ned Stark frowned. "Nightmares? He never mentioned having them. He assures me he is doing fine even though he admits to growing tired sooner than normal at times still. He wrote that he learned to respect me even more now that he experiences first-hand how demanding the role of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North can be."
  
  "Kind of a lot to take on his shoulders all at once." Jon grasped the opening.
  
  "He is the same age as you and you have taken on the responsibility of ruling all of Westeros." Ned countered immediately.
  
  "For which I have been preparing my entire life for as long as I can remember, Uncle. And I am not doing it alone. You have been present at meetings now. You've witnessed how heavily I rely upon all of you."
  
  "Now you sound like my brother. He tried to force his own ideas on me after breakfast." His uncle's tone was accusing
  
  Now it was Jon's turn to frown. "I hope you two did not fight as well?"
  
  Ned gave him a tense look but spoke with authority. "We did not. We exchanged opinions and reached a consensus."
  
  "Am I overstepping when I ask what exactly that compromise entailed?"
  
  "I might as well tell you. You will hear if from your Uncle Benjen in any event so let me recount my version first. We agreed that I am best placed to know what it takes to govern the North. But I also conceded how much I struggled when I had to assume the responsibilities totally unexpected and unprepared shortly after the Rebellion. We disagreed on one thing though."
  
  Jon was curious but kept silent allowing his uncle to decide what to reveal. He made a mental note to discuss this with uncle Benjen at the first opportunity. Uncle Benjen, never one to stay idle, had volunteered his services and where Ser Gerold had hesitated to accept, Yohn Royce had had no such scruples. Jon knew that his uncle had agreed to accompany the knight of the Vale today when he made his rounds of the tournament facilities. The few times he had been able to talk briefly with his newly arrived uncle, they had kept their conversations light and had just enjoyed each other's company. Now he wondered what his Uncle Benjen had left unspoken. He had not noticed any difference in his favourite uncle's behaviour but then again he had not really been looking. He got called back to the present when the uncle sitting before him, spoke up again.
  
  "I told Benjen that Robb was fully prepared to govern the North but he respectfully disagreed. He reminded me that I had lived at the Vale and travelled more than Robb. He also rather vehemently reminded me that I was a war veteran when I assumed responsibility of the North and that as such, I had earned the respect of the Lords that had fought by my side. He also mentioned that Robb still suffered from the repercussions of his torture at the hands of Ramsay Snow."
  
  "How would you say that you prepared Robb fully for this enormous task, Uncle? Did he attend discussions where your stubborn bannermen tried to strong-arm you? Did you explain to him the motivations behind the decisions you made during recent years? Did you provide him with specific examples of what demands from your bannermen were sound and which ones were rather excessive and should be refused or toned down?"
  
  His uncle looked surprised and hesitated before formulating a response. "He got an outstanding education. He learned about the houses, their strengths and weaknesses. I let him calculate the percentages the Lords needed to pay for taxes and showed him our books and explained the different fees they all had to pay."
  
  Jon interrupted at this point. "All theoretical knowledge. Uncle, you must agree that it takes more than knowledge written in a book to learn how to deal with your bannermen. Have you at least given him play by play examples of your discussions, so Robb could learn how each of your bannermen needs a different approach because what offends one Lord is something another might consider a good joke or even a proof of friendship? Did your brother not give you some examples of the issues Robb struggled with?"
  
  Ned's expression soured further. "Benjen had no business discussing such details with you."
  
  "And he didn't. He kept his explanations vague but I grasped the gist of it. Uncle, Robb and I are still very young. Seventeen namedays is years younger than you were when you became Lord of Winterfell. Robb has hardly left the confines of Winterfell's walls. He hasn't travelled like you did. You were hardened by the war when you took control of Winterfell. Your Lords consider him a sheltered green boy."
  
  Jon saw his uncle's closed off expression but didn't give up trying to sway him. "I am sure Robb and I will eventually succeed mostly on our own. But to proceed on our own now would be taking the more difficult road and would not only make us suffer needlessly but the mistakes we make while we gain the necessary experience might cause other people to suffer as well. Is it not the smart thing to do then to use the advice of our more experienced kin and of our loyal advisers when they offer it freely? Keep in mind that when all is said and done, I decide what to do with all the advice handed to me. Neither Robb nor I would follow others blindly."
  
  His uncle still had a counterargument to offer. "What you say makes sense in your case. You govern Seven Kingdoms with vastly differing rules, different customs and a variety of weather conditions. But the North is more straightforward and needs a strong hand to guide it."
  
  "Then give your son time to become that strong hand." Jon's voice became more fervent. "Keep him close. Help him and let him know of every dealing and meeting you hold. Don't throw him before the proverbial wolves and let him be taken advantage of by your more cunning bannermen." Jon knew full well that he was walking a thin line and if he wasn't his uncle's sovereign, the man would not have heard him out at all. He held his uncle's stare, determined not to back down.
  
  "I am counselling him by letter as much as I can and I will be going north as soon as I can do so without offending my wife." Ned defended himself.
  
  Jon stayed silent but kept his gaze fixed on his uncle who started to squirm a bit in his seat.
  
  "And I will write to my bannermen stressing them that I am still acting Warden of the North and my son and I confer before making decisions. That will prevent them from harassing him with outrageous requests."
  
  Jon nodded now. "Thank you, Uncle. Please believe me that I only have Robb's best interests at heart. I have been worried about him ever since leaving him at Winterfell. Do not underestimate what happened to him. He wants to make you proud and apparently won't admit to having any weakness to his father. Robb is a very strong man to be able to function at all after such an ordeal. A lesser man would have been broken and had either not survived or would have lost his mind."
  
  Ned stiffened again. "You and my brother seem to know a lot more about this than I do."
  
  "That is only because we were both present when he was rescued." Jon soothed his uncle. "I witnessed his weakened physical and mental state personally. Did you know that they withheld liquids for days and when he asked for a bit of water, Ramsay Snow offered to urinate in his cup? And that was not all. Your son was not only starved and dehydrated, but at each opportunity Ramsay threatened to feed him to his dogs bit by bit and make him watch while these animals feasted on his amputated body parts. Moreover, while the sadist took his time describing the sordid details, he was most likely flaying Robb's arm. Robb was well aware that those were no idle threats either. Robb's jailors confirmed how Ramsay Snow's father had undergone that very same fate for sennights until he eventually succumbed to his injuries and died. Ramsay even taunted him and called Robb lucky that his stepmother's girth would buy Robb a few extra days of respite. We found the poor Lady in time. She was barely coherent and missing her right hand and some skin but I heard from Lord Domeric Bolton that she is improving."
  
  Jon saw his uncle grow paler with each word he uttered. Ned Stark looked nauseous and gripped the chair with both hands, his knuckles turning white. Nevertheless Jon continued his sordid recounting. It was high time his uncle was told the full extent of the matter.
  
  "During his confinement high up in a tower at the Dreadfort, Robb never saw anyone except for Ramsay Snow and that man is a master torturer. Even though the only remaining visible signs of his ordeal will be extensive scars on his arm and the missing part of his finger, he will carry the reminder of what happened to him at the Dreadfort for the rest of his days. When I was at Winterfell, your son was scared to go to sleep. He startled when somebody made an unexpected noise or spoke to him before Robb had noticed the speaker approach. He needs reassurances from you and praise, not just demands, criticisms and difficult tasks." Jon last words were spoken in a reprimanding tone.
  
  Ned swallowed thickly. "You must understand, I was merely acquainted with the fact of how he was captured and the extent of his physical injuries. The larger part of the reports I received contained extensive details of his successful rescue, a rescue for which I will be forever in your debt. Nothing in these reports prepared me for what you told me just now."
  
  "And normally I wouldn't break Robb's confidence and I would allow him to keep his dignity, but these are things a loving father should know in order to be able to help his son and heir. I am prepared to tell you everything that happened and how my friends and I tried to aid Robb at Winterfell if you are willing to hear me out."
  
  "I need to hear it." Ned still pale admitted with renewed resolve.
  
  "Then if you agree, I will ask for a light lunch to be served in here. I wish to tell it to you as faithfully as possible and that will take some time. I promise you neither to omit significant details nor will I exaggerate. There will be no need to question what I tell you. Rest assured that everything you will hear will be the Gods' honest truth. I can make time until I have to be present for the few private audiences that are scheduled this afternoon."
  
  Jon got back to his room barely in time to change for the last private audiences they had granted before the start of the tournament. He had just spotted the stately outfit they had left on the bed for him when Dany entered without knocking. She hurried over to him and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Ignoring Ghost who had hurried to her side, she started to speak in a hurried tone.
  
  "Aegon, you were absent for lunch and not to be disturbed the entire morning. I so wanted to tell you what I learned this morning concerning Lady Margaery. Are you not eager to hear it?"
  
  "Only if I get a proper greeting first." Jon immediately grabbed her and kissed her within an inch of her life. "There I needed that." He said when he released her. "Are you sure we have to spend this little time we have before we need to put on another boring performance in public with talk about another woman?" His hands ventured lower and she took a step back.
  
  "Aegon!" Dany laughed and ducked sideways when he tried to grab her once more. Ghost enjoying Jon's forwardness ran around both of them jumping playfully up against his human wanting to be included in the game.
  
  "Jon, did you have time this morning to read that scroll I found about fire resis... . Oh, sorry, Princess. I didn't see you there. I was just looking for the King. I had not been able to see or talk to him all morning." Sam stood in the doorway beet red. Ghost had stopped his antics and walked over to Sam who indulged the wolf by petting his large head.
  
  Jon sighed in an exaggerated manner and Dany laughed. "That is what you get when you tell everyone to treat you as before in private, Aegon. You only have yourself to blame."
  
  "Then you must help me come up with some new rules for after we are married. It would be most inconvenient if they barged into our quarters without proper announcement."
  
  "That's easy," Sam, mostly recovered from his initial embarrassment, offered his insight. "After you are married, just tell the guards at the door that you are not to be disturbed. For now, I think Ser Barristan uses every plausible pretext to interrupt you two when you are behind closed doors."
  
  Sam had barely finished his sentence when Ser Barristan appeared in the doorway, his eyes twinkling. He had probably heard each word Sam had spoken since his friend still lingered close to the doorway. The knight didn't look sorry in the slightest. "Your Grace, your escort is waiting in the hallway as it is almost time for your Court appearance. Best send the Princess out and get on with your preparations." He pointed to the clothes spread out on the bed. Ser Barristan's tone sounded as neutral as always but Jon noticed the small twitch at the corners of his mouth when he tried to push Ghost away.
  
  He put on a formal face and played along. "Thank you for reminding me, Ser Barristan. I won't keep you waiting long." He gave Dany a quick peck on her cheek and playfully shoved her in the direction of the door. But not before whispering in her ear. "Sorry for not noticing your dress earlier. You look enchanting, my love."
  
  Sam hesitated but Jon gestured they would speak later and his friend left the room as well.
  
  Luckily that day, the audiences were finished earlier than expected. Jon rose from the ceremonial chair and hoped to take a short stroll outside. He longed from some fresh air. Dany took her leave quickly. She would use the extra time to allow the seamstress another fitting for her wedding dress. Jon was just about to inform Ser Gerold of his intentions when Uncle Benjen approached him with Ghost in tow. Jon looked deep into his direwolf's eyes upon which Ghost immediately changed direction and turned around the corner where Daenerys had disappeared from view.
  
  Benjen having intercepted the look between master and pet watched the direwolf sprint away before he addressed his nephew. "Jon, can you spare me a few moments? You were unavailable this morning and I didn't see you during lunch."
  
  "Of course, Uncle. Perhaps we might take some refreshments on the balcony in the council room? I am in need of fresh air and the weather is lovely." He spoke loud enough so Ser Gerold would know what arrangements to make.
  
  Ser Gerold nodded and Jon left the room flanked by Uncle Benjen. Ser Arthur and a young recruit followed closely behind. No words were spoken until the doors closed behind them. Benjen pulled Jon in a wordless embrace before taking place on the bench. Jon barely had a chance sit down as well before a servant entered with two large cups of ale. Apparently the servants were getting familiar with the habits and preferences of their new King. There was no way Ser Gerold's request could have been fulfilled that quickly. Jon recalled having seen a young boy in the hallway scramble to his feet and run off as soon as the last audiences had ended and the doors had opened. He had noticed the boy before and had been told that was Joni, a young errand boy in service of the kitchen staff.
  
  Both men drank heartily and conversation started only when they both had put their cups down.
  
  "How are you enjoying your stay at the Red Keep, Uncle?" Jon opened with a neutral topic.
  
  "Well enough for the most part, though I wanted to talk to you about my sleeping quarters."
  
  "Are they not to your satisfaction?" Jon frowned. "Dany had reassured him that her uncle had been given rooms fit to his station.
  
  "They would be if it was not for their location. I had hoped to be assigned quarters in the vicinity to yours or at the very least in the same wing. I don't think they could have put me in a more remote part of the Keep. The rooms itself are very luxurious, fit for a King, one might say." He looked around Jon's temporary quarters with a raised eyebrow. "Jon, you know I don't care for luxury. I would rest better if I knew you were not that far away if something occurred. Now it takes me ages to get from my rooms to the part of the Keep where you sleep."
  
  "I'll look into it, Uncle. I am sure something can be arranged. I heard high praise of you from Lord Royce. I am sorry I have not been able to spend more time with you, I had intended to free part of my morning but something came up." Jon sighed not sure if he wanted to spoil this opportunity by bringing up the topic of uncle Ned and Robb.
  
  "No apologies necessary, Jon. I understand that things need to stabilise first. I cannot begin to imagine how much you have on your plate now. But I did want to ask whether I would be allowed to attend the next small council. I heard they will review the pending issues and decide how to deal with them during your absence. Perhaps I could be of some assistance."
  
  "Davos told you?" Jon looked surprised. Not that he minded. Just that normally Davos was rather discreet.
  
  Benjen Stark shook his head. "Dany was kind enough to fill me in somewhat."
  
  "You spend time with Dany this morning?" Jon was even more surprised.
  
  "Yes, she took pity on me when I wasn't allowed to disturb you this morning. We met at the door of your study where we were both thwarted by your Cerberuses. Dany offered to give me a tour of the more interesting parts of the Red Keep. Lady Ashara and Irri joined us. We were trailed of course by the necessary guards. I didn't get the full tour though. The Princess got waylaid at some point and I ended up taking refreshments with the lady Ashara in the morning room."
  
  Jon's head peaked up. "And talked about the past?"
  
  Benjen Stark's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ser Arthur warned me you might pry."
  
  "Just curious, Uncle. Between the two of us, do you think she might have become good kin if Uncle Brandon hadn't died so young?"
  
  Benjen startled but pursed his lips. "It is not my story to tell."
  
  Jon sighed. "Ser Arthur said the same. But I can't just ask Lady Ashara why she never married."
  
  "Perhaps because her house fell into disrepute, Jon. She had a difficult life and for a long time mourned her brother as well. Leave her be, please?"
  
  When Jon nodded, Benjen produced a letter. "From Howland Reed. He ordered me to give it to you away from prying eyes once you settled down somewhat. He assured me that it contains nothing that urgent but wanted you to decide whether you wanted to share its content with others. He is of the opinion that you are allowed to keep things to yourself and doesn't want others to harass you. I left the seal intact. Lord Reed warned me he would know if I didn't. Do you think the seal has magic in it?"
  
  "No, rather that he would have you believe that than it actually being so." Jon accepted the letter with alacrity. "Thanks Uncle. That reminds me. I have received a letter from Robb this morning, but it was rather formal and only mentioned that you left, not the reason why. It was a rather generic letter assuring me all was well in the North and that the Starks were all in good health, as were the direwolves. Most of the letter covers innocent pranks of Arya and Rickon. He also describes his mother's wish to head south."
  
  "I didn't expect anything else." His uncle remarked. "If anything, Robb is obsessed with keeping up appearances. He wants to be viewed as a capable regent of the North, certainly in his father's eyes. Speaking of which, I might have heard that the reason that you were unavailable for lunch had something to do with my brother's extremely long audience with his King?"
  
  "Now who's prying?" Jon teased to gain time. "I should make a bargain. I tell you something you want to know and you tell me something I want to know."
  
  "Only if you don't force me to betray other people's confidences." Benjen Stark stood firm.
  
  "Even as King of the Seven Kingdoms, you get me to give in to you at every opportunity."
  
  "Only in such matters, Jon. You stood up to me often enough. I distinctly recall you not heeding my counsel at several opportunities, your famous rite of passage voyage being just one of many."
  
  "And look how vital that turned out to be." Jon countered. "I got to you in the nick of time."
  
  Benjen saw his nephew's face fall and quickly changed the subject. "I hope my brother didn't blacken my character and made you wary of my counsel even more than you already are?"
  
  "l always listen to your advice, Uncle. Not matter what Uncle Ned says, you know I make up my own mind about you two. You are just angling to hear me say that I favour you over him."
  
  "I might be a bit insecure. I admit freely that I was slightly disappointed that I hardly got to see you since I arrived and that feeling only grew stronger when I learned how much time today you spent behind closed doors with my brother."
  
  Jon didn't know how to respond to that.
  
  His uncle cocked his head. "Might I remind you that you didn't give an answer to my request to attend your small council tomorrow? I feel rather redundant here. I even offered Ser Gerold to help with your protection if need be since your Kingsguard is still largely incomplete."
  
  "You are welcome to attend that particular small council session, Uncle. I can't make you an official part of my inner circle yet. I have to give Uncle Ned precedence. I advise you to enjoy the bit of reprieve from such a burden. When your brother returns to the North, you will be offered his place and will come to regret that you didn't take advantage of this relative period of leisure. I heard you have not been idle and have assisted Lord Royce most diligently."
  
  His uncle signalled that he understood. Jon smiled but quickly grew more serious again. "As for assisting my Kingsguard, I will let you do as you see fit of course. Just be aware that I will want to be able to talk to you on occasion. Ser Gerold is big on protocol. If you are on duty, you would join Ser Arthur in the hallway. When you perform the duties of a Kingsguard, you are forbidden to address me. Ser Gerold would only allow you to come inside if he had a replacement at the ready. He takes my protection very seriously these days."
  
  "As he should. Your enemies need only kill one person to overthrow your reign. Don't get overconfident, Jon."
  
  "Just sit in on our next meeting and you'll witness how closely we monitor the situation, Uncle."
  
  "I'd be only too happy to know a bit more about what is going on. Now tell me how are the wedding preparations coming along. I hope I may stand in for the father of the groom?"
  
  Jon glad the subject about Robb and Uncle Ned's conflict with Uncle Benjen seemed to have been dropped for the moment relayed all he knew on the subject. He was still looking for the best possible solution but had decided to stall until he heard Robb's version of what had happened at Winterfell. He had drafted a long letter to his cousin, offering his support and unbiased ear. He would review the contents a few times to make certain he had found the right wording so Robb would not have cause to get offended or feel pitied. He would make sure the letter was ready to be sent out before his wedding. All that was left then was to pray that Robb would be more forthcoming in his response.
  
  He dedicated all the time he had left before he needed to prepare himself for another stately banquet to his uncle. Both men felt better when they parted. Jon promised to make sure that Uncle Benjen would be seated next to him at the high table tonight. As soon as his uncle had left to prepare himself, Jon went in search for Dany to make sure his uncle was assigned different quarters at her earliest convenience. Once more he needed to readjust his plans when he was stopped by Sam.
  
  "I still haven't had a moment to spare, Sam. But come with me. I'll give you the opportunity to read the scroll you sent me out loud while I put on my crown and formal coat." He resigned himself to another delay. And the message from Howland Reed was still burning a hole in his pocket.
  
  "Still no manservant then, I gather?" Sam asked when then entered his room where no servant was present. Only the beautiful coat with ermine collar lying on the bed was evidence that someone had been in here. "You are aware that the servants are gossiping and that the nobles are starting to as well?"
  
  Jon refused to cower under the admonishing stare of his friend "That's just harmless chit chat."
  
  "Still, allow Varys to tell you what the latest rumours are. I do not think that you will still remain so cavalier about it all."
  
  "I will, when I find time. For now, let's focus on what you have found out about the fire resistant abilities of my ancestors. Have you discovered how long I can withstand the fire of my own dragons before I weaken?"
  
  "You mean how much time will you have available to defeat the Night King when you attempt to weaken him with your dragonfire."
  
  "Yes. I hope you found proof that he can get weakened by dragonfire. I don't know why I should attempt it otherwise."
  
  "To keep others from interfering? To prevent him from giving them instructions. Possibly blocking his magic? We are presuming that the Night King is the only one wielding the magic. We mean to isolate him, prevent his White Walkers from coming to his aid. We already know that the wights will be deterred by the fire."
  
  "You have me convinced, Sam. Start reading so we can leave in time. I don't want to be known as the King who doesn't care how long he keeps his subjects waiting."
  
  Interlude 39: On the road
  
  Stokeworth tried to make Lord Renly of House Baratheon see reason. "Is it really necessary to travel at such a speed? We will exhaust our mounts and in the end will lose even more time than it takes to let the horses rest up a bit now."
  
  "King Aegon requested us to be in White Harbour before the ship with his new Kingsguards leave." Renly Baratheon repeated once more.
  
  "And we will get there in time. We are ahead of schedule most likely." Stokeworth didn't understand why Renly Baratheon was so eager. The man had spent less than three moons at the Wall and most of that time in relative luxury. He had not participated in any training sessions and had enjoyed many privileges. Stokeworth on the other hand had spent eighteen years in this pity excuse of a brotherhood, learning to fend for himself and survive. He had suffered not only the harsh conditions of ranging beyond the Wall but also the derision with which many of his fellow 'brothers' had treated former Targaryen supporters. Renly's stay compared to his had been more like an adventure and a sightseeing tour than an imprisonment. He had been relieved to hear that he did not have to travel alone but would have preferred another companion on his first trip south of the Wall in decades. He swallowed when thoughts of Jaremy came to the forefront and almost did not hear the soft reply of his travel companion.
  
  "I hope to meet a dear friend of mine who fought near Hardhome against the dead."
  
  Stokeworth turned his head to look at the high Lord with amazement. His statement had sounded so honest and yearning. Once more Stokeworth was reminded of his own dear friend whose body they had burned immediately after he had fallen. A sudden wave of sympathy for Renly Baratheon compelled him to respond kindly. "We'll make it, Lord Baratheon. And besides, didn't the King also write that he would ask them to wait for us? They will know that we are coming. And if your friend feels anyway near the same as you, he will be equally motivated to urge his companions to wait as vehemently as you are hurrying me."
  
  Renly Baratheon's face broke into a dreamy smile. "He is. You are right, Stokeworth. Let's take a break. I see a small lake up ahead. The horse can rest there and we can eat something. Now that I think about it, I am rather hungry."
  
  Stokeworth was glad to see Baratheon lighten up. He wondered who this friend was. He had lived such an isolated life at the Wall and hoped that some of his former friends in the South would still recognise him.
  
  He sought the necessary wood to start a small fire. All such tasks fell to him. King Aegon had advised Lord Baratheon not to visit the Northern Lords. Not only would this delay their journey since it would be impolite to just come for supper, a soft bed and hurry onwards at first light the next day, but King Aegon had also warned Lord Baratheon that he couldn't vouch for a warm welcome.
  
  At the end of the second day of travelling together, Stokeworth had asked Renly Baratheon to assist him in setting up their small tent and the Lord had hindered him more than he had helped. Stokeworth would have managed it quicker alone. Still it chafed that Lord Baratheon considered it only natural that Stokeworth would wait on him and see to all the chores on this trip. Stokeworth might be from a minor house in the Crownlands but he had never been a servant in the South.
  
  By now the former Prince at least knew the basics of setting up a tent and today he surprised Stokeworth by helping him gather some dry wood for the fire without being prompted to do so. They ate some dried meat in a comfortable silence. It was still a bit early to put up the tent.
  
  "Do you know a certain Gendry?" Lord Baratheon asked him after he had finished his meal.
  
  "Of course. That is if you mean the skilled blacksmith who is a personal friend of King Aegon? I know him."
  
  "What is he like?"
  
  Stokeworth looked hesitant now. "What do you want to hear? I don't know him that well. He mostly spent his time with Donal Noye but the few times we spoke he was modest, kind, polite. Is that what you meant to ask?"
  
  "Perhaps. Did you know that he is my nephew by blood and will inherit Storm's End after me? Hopefully only after he is old and grey. I am not that much older than him. I wonder if King Aegon realises that."
  
  "I don't understand. What if you sire sons? I can't believe that King Aegon would order you to disinherit your children even before they are born? That doesn't sound like the Prince I've come to know and love."
  
  "The King knows I will not sire any heirs. My older brothers will not sire any more children and the King has promised to find an advantageous match for my only niece. Gendry has been legitimized and is my only living male relation that has a claim to the name Baratheon now. So you see, it all makes perfect sense."
  
  Stokeworth looked a little embarrassed. He didn't want to pry. Certainly not if Lord Baratheon had a health issue that prevented him from siring children. He had heard of such a sickness and no man would willingly admit to having it. "King Aegon is wise for one so young." He answered neutrally and the conversation halted there. Both men contemplated the fire.
  
  "There is still some daylight left. We could travel a bit further before setting up our tent?" This time it was not a command but a kindly phrased suggestion.
  
  Stokeworth nodded. "Excellent idea. We will soon reach the crossing where we have to turn east. If we miss it we will be making an unnecessary detour past Winterfell. If we had more time, I would have loved to see that stronghold. King Aegon described it to me once. It sure sounds like a unique Keep. Have you ever been to Winterfell, Lord Baratheon?"
  
  "Only once and I wasn't treated as a guest but stowed away in some backroom. It could have been worse I suppose. All of this could have turned out much worse. I'm glad King Aegon is related to the Starks. I owe a lot to Ned Stark, most probably my life. It is highly likely that it was Ned Stark who petitioned the King to release me."
  
  "King Aegon is his own man," Stokeworth argued. "He did not just release you. He reinstated you as the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. That is very generous of him. He didn't have to do that."
  
  "He did it to secure my Kingdom." Renly argued not ready to hail the reign of a Targaryen King even if the young man had seen to it that he would be reunited with Loras sooner rather than later. He would not admit, not even to himself, that he was jealous that Loras sang the young Targaryen's praises every opportunity he got.
  
  "Really?" Stokeworth countered. "You don't hold Storm's End. Your brother does. As far as I see it, our King will need to help you regain your seat, not the other way around. Once he has taken it from Stannis Baratheon, he could install anyone he wanted as Lord of Storm' End. Hells, he could even award it to me."
  
  For the first time Renly Baratheon studied Stokeworth more seriously and remembered he was a Lord in his own right, be it one of an insignificant house. "You have such ambitions?"
  
  "For the Gods' sake, no! I was just trying to make a point." Stokeworth's exasperated shout rang over the isolated landscape.
  
  "Then what are your intentions?" Renly softened the tone of his voice to make it sound more like he took an honest interest in the older man's affairs instead of accusing him outright of being a usurper.
  
  "Find out if my family still welcomes me. Perhaps join King Aegon's court, petition for a position in his Royal Guard? Or I might decide to try and find a woman who will have me. I am not too old to start a family. Anything is possible. I won't make a hasty decision. I have options for the first time in eighteen years."
  
  "Well, if ever you have need of my influence, contact me. I might not let on but I know I have been a nuisance to you so far. Since Cotter Pyke didn't want to send others along because of the temptation such a thing would present to a man of the Night's Watch, I am grateful for your company and protection on this trek.
  
  "I appreciate that, Lord Baratheon. I am also glad for the company. Men are not made for solitude. And here in the North, travelling alone is a reckless and foolish thing to do.
  
  A sennight later
  
  White Harbour was larger and more prosperous than Renly Baratheon had expected. The settlement was brimming with activity. It was market day and Renly used the opportunity to purchase some new clothes and another cloak. He hated the black monstrosity he had worn on this journey, but he had used it out of sheer necessity. Nothing of the clothes he had been allowed to bring with him to Castle Black had been warm enough. Now he had a beautiful white and grey cloak and felt like reborn. They had debated whether to go straight to the docks or to refresh themselves and order a wholesome meal at a tavern first. Renly wanting to look his best when he met up with his lover had, pleaded in favour of the latter.
  
  He spent his last coins Cotter Pyke had allotted him courtesy of King Aegon in the tavern and knew he would need to take out a loan somewhere if he did not want to arrive like a beggar in King's Landing. King Aegon's letter would be a great help in that regard. The Lord of Storm's End would not have difficulty securing funds.
  
  Stokeworth was the first to enter the large tavern. He scanned the room but couldn't find a table that wasn't occupied. Renly entered and halted next to him and quickly understood their predicament. The innkeeper spotting Renly's posture and superior clothing immediately came over.
  
  "My Lord, can I be of assistance?"
  
  "My companion and I are looking for a place to eat and also the opportunity to freshen up a bit. We are not spending the night. We are meeting up with a party at the docks and will continue our journey to King's Landing in their company. Do you happen to know whether a ship has recently arrived from Eastwatch?"
  
  "These days that is a regular occurrence. I can send an errand boy to the docks straight away. He will be back before you have finished your meal, my Lords. Will you be taking it in private? I can set a table in one of the sleeping quarters. I'll have the servants bring hot water up so you can freshen up while we prepare a warm meal."
  
  "Thank you. That would be most welcome. And if the messenger returns, he may disturb us at any time. We don't mind. We are eager to hear news of our friends."
  
  "Of course, my Lord. I'll send the messenger out first thing and then I'll escort you to a room."
  
  Stokeworth finished the last bite of one of the best meals for as long as he could remember, well perhaps with the exception of the vegetable soup with pieces of chicken his mother used to cook for him when he was little. He had forgotten how nice a meal prepared with more than one ingredient and extra spices could taste. He looked over to Lord Baratheon's plate and noticed that the man was just shifting his food around.
  
  "Is the meat not to your liking?"
  
  Renly startled and looked up. "I'm not that hungry. Mostly nervous, I suppose. I wonder how long it will take for that messenger to..."
  
  A short knock and the door opened without waiting for a reply. "Renly!" Loras burst into the room.
  
  Lord Baratheon barely had time to stand before he was enveloped in a hug. He swallowed and blinked a few times to prevent tears from escaping his eyes. He clapped Loras' shoulder and released him well aware that they were not alone.
  
  "Loras, it is good to see you." He said rather formally. His eyes however betrayed how happy and relieved he was to see his lover again. "May I present my travel companion? This is Gylles Stokeworth. His kin owns castle Stokeworth in the Crownlands. He was at the Wall with me and protected King Aegon while he was staying at Castle Black before he took the throne. He also accompanied him beyond the Wall. He recently received a royal pardon and will be travelling with us."
  
  Renly took a step away from Loras. "Stokeworth, this is my dear friend Lord Loras of House Tyrell. He will be knighted and has been promised the position of Kingsguard by King Aegon upon arrival in King's Landing."
  
  Stokeworth inclined his head. "Pleased to meet you and congratulations."
  
  "Likewise, Lord Stokeworth."
  
  "Who else is travelling with you, Lord Tyrell?" Stokeworth was keen to know.
  
  "I am travelling in the company of Lady Brienne of Tarth and Lord Edric of House Dayne, the nephew of the Sword of the Morning. Lord Manderly will join us as well with part of his family and a few other northern Lords. Lord Manderly is the Master of Ships of our new King."
  
  "Gendry is not travelling with you?" Stokeworth had hoped to hear at least one familiar name.
  
  "He is Lord Gendry of House Baratheon now." Loras smiled at him. "He has been legalised. Our newest Lord has been ordered to travel to Winterfell and escort the ladies of House Stark to King's Landing. They will follow in a sennight or two."
  
  "When did you arrive at White Harbour?" Renly asked Loras his eyes taking in every detail of his lover's lean frame. For the moment all thoughts of Gendry Baratheon were pushed to the back of his mind. He would meet his legitimised nephew soon enough.
  
  "Just this morning. We visited the town and asked around. I was so relieved when the messenger arrived with news of your safe arrival."
  
  Stokeworth coughed. "If you don't mind, I need to go outside and heed the call of nature. I'll wait for you downstairs so we can all meet the others on the ship." He had clearly sensed these two friends were holding back because of his presence. They clearly were very close friends in need of privacy. He was halfway down the stairs when he put two and two together. The gossip at Castle Black surrounding Renly Baratheon now made sense. These two men were closer than friends and Renly Baratheon did not intend to sire heirs preferring to stay faithful to his lover. He could be such a moron sometimes. He was glad however that he hadn't realised it before. It would have made sleeping in one tent with the man during their time on the road much more uncomfortable.
  
  He went outside and finished his business. Then he sat on a quiet bench at the back of the tavern and turned his face toward the sun. It was already significantly warmer here in White Harbour than at Castle Black. Soon he could shed his winter clothes and for the first time in eighteen years put on a lighter outfit. Feeling the heat of the sun burning on his skin, it actually started to sink in. He would be home soon.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next Chapter: The tournament gets underway in King's Landing.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The tournament
  Chapter 40: The Tournament
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon is still coming to terms with how to act as a King. Uncle Ned disappoints him. Lady Tyrell attempts to confront him. Davos, Prince Oberyn, Benjen, Dany and even Varys guide him through it all. All of this occurs while the tournament takes place.
  
  Notes:
  
  Just to avoid confusion, now we catch up on the events of interlude 34 where Willas Tyrell arrived at Casterly Rock. That interlude was set slightly in the future.
  
  Due to circumstances, my beta was unavailable so I had to proofread the chapter myself.
  
  aaa
  
  Day ten in the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name
  
  Whether it was by the courtesy of the Old Gods, the Seven or the Lord of Light, one thing was certain, the tournament had been blessed with good weather. The morning of the day that the tournament would finally get underway, the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. Chances were that the next couple of days the weather would remain dry and that the winds would not pick up much and remain just a soft breeze hailing from the sea.
  
  Jon whistled while he refreshed himself and dressed with extra care after his training session. His schedule would be lighter these next few days. Only one short small council meeting was scheduled during the course of the tournament. He expected no brain wrecking discussions either. They would just catalogue the pending issues and set a few things in motion so his advisers could carry on without him for a sennight, maybe even a few days longer. After this meeting, he would be free till lunch. Next he planned to make a few royal enhancements to his attire before he was set to pick up Dany. Together they would attend the two opening ceremonies of the tournament. First they would head to the tilt yard that had been erected in the square at the foot of the steps of the Sept of Baelor and later that day there would be a demonstration of different fighting styles in the dragon pit. The actual melee would start on the morrow.
  
  He was just fastening his sword belt with Blackfyre around his waist when Ghost's head shot up and Jon heard a polite knock moments after. He recognised it instantly as Maester Pylos'. There were three slow polite taps on the door, not too loud, not too insistent. The servants knocked four times rather quickly. His Kingsguard knocked only twice but did so with strength and authority. "Enter," he shouted and motioned Ghost to stay put. Maester Pylos' head appeared as expected.
  
  "A raven from Greywater Watch, your Grace."
  
  "Thank you, Maester. Is there anything else to report?"
  
  "I have news of House Rykker, your Grace. The current Lord of Duskendale, a Lord Renfred Rykker is only a distant cousin of Jaremy Rykker. He regrets to inform you that he never met his cousin Jaremy. Young Renfred was a mere boy of ten namedays at the end of the Rebellion and had kneeled to the Baratheons in order for House Rykker to retain their castle. Still they were stripped of most of their farming lands. After they received your message, Lord Renfred of House Rykker sent his congratulations to his Grace and confirmed that he would head a delegation from Duskendale that will arrive during the next moon to renew his house's allegiance to House Targaryen. Lord Seaworth added them to the list."
  
  Jon nodded and studied Maester Pylos who had remained close to the doorway. Ever since the young Maester had arrived he hadn't really found the time to talk to him personally. Now was as good an opportunity as ever. "Are your quarters to your liking, Maester?"
  
  "They are, your Grace. Can I take this opportunity to thank you for the opportunity you are giving me to serve you here? I understand better now why you all kept to yourselves these first sennights on Dragonstone. It was an enormous secret to keep."
  
  "You have handled yourself admirably through it all, Maester. Consider this my thanks and your reward for not being smallminded and helping us when we needed you despite our previous behaviour."
  
  "You're welcome, your Grace. Perhaps you would allow me to have a quick look at your wound or should I call it a scar by now? I heard your trainings are going well."
  
  "I heeded your advice and was a good boy, if I say so myself." Jon smiled and undid the laces of his breeches.
  
  The Maester approached and made quick work of his examination. You have indeed been rewarded for your good behaviour, my King. Your muscles feel strong as well. You must also have faithfully performed the exercises I recommended."
  
  Jon just nodded and proceeded to adjust his clothing.
  
  "Do you want me to withdraw so you can read your message in private or shall I wait to see if you need to summon your advisers?" Maester Pylos had already taken a few steps backwards.
  
  Jon broke the seal and opened the scroll. "Just wait here a moment, please. It is a short message." He started to read, keeping his face neutral.
  
  "Lord Reed announces the day of his arrival. He expects to be here in time for the wedding. He will be accompanied by his children and my cousin Bran. At least one of my Stark cousins will be able to attend." He smiled at the Maester. "I won't need your services for now, Maester Pylos. You may retire."
  
  Maester Pylos bowed and left the room. Jon sat down and read the message once more. Howland Reed had added a coded paragraph. Jon quickly deciphered it. The Gods had sent him a variation of the vision featuring the undead foe in the South. Lord Reed also warned him that the Red Priestess Melisandre was recovering. However this time, she appeared not to use her powers to shield the region from them. It even felt like she was doing the opposite. Lord Reed believed there were signs that she was reaching out to them. His foster father requested a private interview shortly after his arrival. He expected to be in King's Landing by the last day of the tournament.
  
  Jon put the scroll down. A few more welcome faces to attend the wedding in the Godswood if all went as planned. He would make sure to tell Dany. Another knock, this time it was the assertive knock of his Kingsguard. Jon looked at Ghost whose calm demeanour reassured Jon that there were only people present at the other side of the door that Ghost considered pack. "Enter," Jon called out, while he tucked the message safely away in his pocket.
  
  Ser Gerold stood in the doorway. "Prince Eddard Stark requests a private audience, your Grace."
  
  "Let him in." Jon replied. Ser Gerold bowed and left the room after his uncle had entered.
  
  Jon sat down and studied his uncle closely while he took a seat. Ned Stark looked troubled and didn't meet Jon's eyes. "I presume this is about what you learned concerning Robb's health yesterday?" Jon opened the conversation.
  
  His uncle nodded and swallowed. Jon didn't have the heart to send him away and postpone their conversation till after the small council meeting. He stood, walked to the door and opened it slightly. "Ser Gerold, inform the council members that the meeting will be delayed due to unforeseen circumstance. I expect to join them in the council room by the second half of the morning." Jon looked behind him and saw the hunched shoulders of his uncle. "Just in case, would you also ask Davos whether there is any reason why we could not postpone the meeting till tomorrow morning? If we start early enough, we should have finished before the joust starts mid-morning that day."
  
  "I'll see to it that Lord Seaworth receives your message, your Grace." Ser Gerold promised and Jon closed the door and steeled himself to deal with his uncle.
  
  Jon for the most part let his uncle steer the conversation. Nothing new was touched upon. His uncle clearly needed to vent his feelings. Jon understood from experience how talking about things released pent up emotions. This was often the way Jon worked things out. Talking to Davos, Sam and lately also Dany had a calming effect on him.
  
  But that was not the usual way of his uncle for dealing with issues. Normally the man retreated and kept his own counsel while he mulled over his problems and most of the time resolved them without help. He would only ask for assistance if he had a clear plan of action and needed the help of others to carry it out. Being so open with his young nephew about his struggles and emotions was out of character for the Warden of the North. Somehow it made Jon a little apprehensive but he decided to let it play out. He barely contributed anything except for some interjections at the appropriate times as "I understand", "that's right", "give it a bit more time". This changed when his uncle brought up the subject of Jon's upcoming marriage.
  
  "Soon you will be married and my son hasn't even been betrothed." Lord Stark looked hesitant. "I would appreciate your advice on the matter."
  
  Jon studied his uncle carefully trying to determine how forthright this request really was. Was it born out of obligation or was Lord Stark truly asking his advice because he was not certain how to proceed? Still, he would not insult his uncle by voicing his doubts about the proud man's motivations out loud. "I would prefer it if you let Robb be acquainted with a prospective bride first, Uncle. Marriage is a big step. It is a shame he cannot leave Winterfell for now. If he were here, he could meet all the young ladies presently at Court. I met several suitable candidates of major houses at least as pretty as Lady Margaery. Some might even be kinder, more suitable to life in the North. A handsome young Prince of House Stark can easily make the young lady of his choice fall in love with him."
  
  "What you have found with the Princess is a happy coincidence, Jon. It colours your opinion on this matter. Don't expect everyone to be as lucky." His uncle's voice took on some authority for the first time during their talk.
  
  "I don't. But you must agree that time is not that much of an issue any longer. Even politics might be put aside. The North has never before been in such a prominent position, on such intimate footing with the Crown. Your son is a Prince of the North, first cousin of the King and on excellent terms with him. After I am married, Robb is the most eligible bachelor of the seven Kingdoms. His status will not diminish if he remains unbetrothed a bit longer. Why not let him meet your candidate first and give them a chance to find out whether they can at least tolerate each other? It will also help that Robb will be allowed a bit more time to come to terms with the intimacies a bride will expect from him."
  
  "Robb is a man grown and able to bed a woman." Ned frowned. "What are you alluding to?"
  
  "I'm sorry, Uncle. I could have phrased that better. I still picture how not so long ago my cousin startled easily and avoided being touched. I know he is getting better. I just surmised that a delay would help him get more confident before having to reveal his scars to his bride." Jon gave his uncle an apologetic look only to revert back to a more neutral expression when he realised his words had not improved his uncle's mood. Never before had he seen Eddard Stark look at him with barely constraint disappointment if not right out frustration. If it wasn't his loyal, honourable uncle he was talking to, he would have been sure that the man sitting in front of him did not like him.
  
  Ned Stark's posture was stiff when he finally reacted. His voice was eerily calm but had an ominous edge to it. "What about these other careful words of yours. Could you have phrased them better as well or did you mean to steer me away from Lady Margaery as a potential bride."
  
  Jon was glad he wore long sleeves so his uncle could not notice the goose bumps that had appeared on his arms. He was relieved when his voice betrayed nothing of his emotions when he replied. "I don't really know her, Uncle. I am just concerned that she might turn out to be like her grandmother. I met the Queen of Thorns on several occasions and do not like her at all. She has gotten away with things serious enough to justify throwing her in jail or even taking her head if we were able to prove them. Besides, one of the limitations I put on House Tyrell as a punishment for their proven offences against the Crown was that they could no longer betroth Mace Tyrell's children without royal consent. I ordered the betrothal of their heir and appointed Loras to the Kingsguard."
  
  "That is still too lenient if you ask my advice. Her behaviour deserves a harsher punishment." His uncle replied, his voice having regained its usual calm authority.
  
  Jon didn't hide his stupefaction this time. "You know?"
  
  "You will have to be more precise than that but I am no simpleton. And Varys told me some of his suspicions. Over time, I have come to rely on the Spider not to cause undue alarm."
  
  Jon was starting to regret that Davos was not present for this interview. He would defuse this confusing situation with a light but pertinent remark. To Jon, it felt more and more as if something was off. He had started the conversation by feeling sorry for his uncle and had let him steer things. Prince Oberyn's revelation and tips made him realise that it was time to change the dynamics and assert himself. "Then why ask me? Was this a test of sorts?"
  
  Ned sighed but had yet to relax his posture. "I wouldn't phrase it that strongly, Jon. I only wanted to find out if you intended to keep your cousin's unmarried state hostage to consolidate alliances at your whim now that the political situation has taken this positive turn."
  
  Jon's gripped the arm support of his chair to prevent him from jumping up. He looked at Ghost and it took every effort to keep his wolf calm and his voice level when he reacted to his uncle's words. "If anyone else was sitting before me, I would feel deeply insulted. The more I think about this, the more I am starting to believe that you manipulated this conversation and that is beneath you."
  
  "My choice of words might have been unfortunate. It is merely that I fear that Robb's opinions trump mine in your eyes."
  
  Jon frowned. "That sounds a lot like another wrongdoing you are laying at my feet."
  
  "You misunderstand me. I am honoured that you care this much for my son. I just need to hear you promise me that you will no longer use him to forge an alliance to consolidate your rule."
  
  Jon didn't respond right away. His mind was racing in an attempt to determine what the best course of action was here. Once more he wished for Davos' presence. His uncle used his silence to press for the answer he wanted.
  
  "Now that we have successfully put you on the throne, as his father and Warden of the North, I reclaim the right to choose a bride for my heir."
  
  Again Jon took his time to react. He was proud that he stayed calm when he finally spoke up. "I could betroth him to Lady Shireen of House Baratheon, you know, or to Princess Arianne of House Martell for that matter. The Stormlands and Dorne have not declared for me yet." He shook his head. "But you should know me better than that, Uncle. I will of course respect your rights as his father. That said, know that I put my trust in you to keep Robb's wellbeing in mind. I would only ever try to interfere if I was convinced that you were about to make a decision that endangered Robb's life or forced him to wed a person that he absolutely hated. I can't see that happening anytime soon since I know that you love your son dearly and are a man of honour."
  
  He knew this answer could also be construed as manipulative but he felt cornered. At first he had searched desperately for a valid reason to stall his answer. He had wanted to replay this entire conversation to Davos, perhaps to Dany as well before he gave his uncle his final decision. But in the end he had found no plausible reason to refuse his uncle this request. It was a reasonable request after all, when you forgot the manipulative way his uncle had steered the conversation. If Uncle Ned had not preyed on Jon's commiseration with his plight for the larger part of their discussion before coming out and stating his purpose, Jon wouldn't feel half as bad at having given in as he did now.
  
  His uncle apparently having succeeded in what he came here to achieve was quick to get up. "Thank you, Jon. Then I will leave you to it. Perhaps there is still time to hold that small council meeting after all."
  
  Jon nodded reluctantly. When he looked up again, his uncle had already left the room. Jon took a deep breath when the door fell shut. Now that there were no witnesses a frustrated scowl appeared on his face. He had been right. His uncle had only come to him with a sole purpose and for once the always so honourable man had not been honest and straightforward in pursuing his goal. For that reason only, Jon had not been inclined to humour his uncle but had not seen a way around it. Now he had to put all his faith in the fact that Uncle Ned surely had the best interests of Robb and the North in mind. He could only pray that things would work out and that he was getting worked up over nothing.
  
  Ghost had approached him the moment the door had closed after Ned Stark and lay down on the floor beside Jon's chair, his loyal red eyes soothing Jon's ache. He released a long shivering breath, llowered himself to the ground and embraced his direwolf. "Thank you, Ghost. At least I know you will always have my back." He knew he had to get up and continue with the rest of his obligations but granted himself a few more moments to compose himself.
  
  "Your Grace?"
  
  Jon must have missed the knock since Davos stood in the doorway. He slowly released his grip on Ghost but stayed silent.
  
  "Did something happen? Ser Gerold informed me that Prince Stark acted strange and seemed in a hurry when he left your chamber."
  
  Jon turned his head rather abruptly toward Davos and lashed out. "Ser Gerold should be more discreet. Especially with all his talk about protocol and how a Kingsguard should behave."
  
  "You are angry." Davos stated calmly. "And not with Ser Gerold but with your uncle most likely. I don't mean to pry, but know that I want nothing more than to help you. I am on your side, Jon."
  
  Jon scrambled upright. "I know, Davos. I am gladder than ever that I chose you to be my Hand. You would not play me for a fool. You would just come out and ask what you wanted in a few simple words instead of leading me on and tricking me into going along with your wishes."
  
  "Is that what happened?" Davos had seated himself in the chair where not so long ago his uncle had been seated.
  
  Jon didn't respond.
  
  "All right," Davos practical as always considered their options. "Are you calm enough to take rational decisions at the small council meeting or do we postpone till tomorrow?"
  
  Jon took a deep breath. "Let this be at test for me. A sovereign needs to remain level headed and reasonable in all circumstances. Let's do this. Just give me some sign if I you believe I need to tone it down a little."
  
  Davos put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "You'll do just fine, son. I am confident you can pull this off. And later, if you have worked through whatever happened in here, tell me. Or tell the Princess. It will make you feel better."
  
  Jon managed a small grateful smile. "Thanks, Davos. I will tell you later today. You will need to know about it. You will be governing the Seven Kingdoms in my absence. I should keep no secrets from you."
  
  aaa
  
  Davos was glad that the young King had taken the time to explain exactly why he had been so frustrated after the conversation with his uncle when the both of them reconvened in Jon's study after lunch. It seemed strange that Lord Stark would corner his nephew like that. But he didn't question Jon's version of the conversation. The young man respected his uncle too much and would not belittle his character if it hadn't been true. Davos was disappointed in Eddard Stark. The man had played on the young King's compassion for Robb's ordeal and while the shock the Warden of the North must have felt when finally learning the sordid details must have been genuine, Stark had manipulated the situation to his advantage.
  
  This entire thing could have been avoided easily. Davos was convinced that if the man had just come straight out and asked what he wanted, Jon would have given his uncle his wish without blinking. Perhaps his young King would still have added a small plea to try and take Robb's well- being into consideration if at all possible. The damage however was done. Now it would take some time for Jon to trust his uncle again.
  
  He had also been rather surprised to learn that it had been Prince Oberyn that had taught the young King to be more wary of the motives of others, including his closest allies. Jon had revealed that he had come very close to missing the game his uncle had been playing until he had recalled a few pointers that Prince Oberyn had given him. One of them being 'be distrustful of anyone, friend or foe, who suddenly acts out of character'. Davos wished that Jon had found a way to stall a decision until he had been able to consult with him. However, in the end the outcome would probably have been the same. Perhaps they would have been able to put a few more conditions on the eligibility of a betrothal candidate for Robb but what it all came down to was still the same: they had to trust that Eddard Stark had the best interests of his son and the North in mind. He was Robb's father and Warden of the North after all.
  
  Davos understood Lord Stark's frustration of having power taken away after ruling almost unchallenged for the better part of two decades but that was no excuse to use his nephew's compassion against him and manipulate him into complying. Davos was sure that Lord Stark would suffer the consequences the moment it dawned on him that he had demeaned himself in the eyes of the young King. For now, Davos needed to do some damage control.
  
  He reminded Jon that despite the promise to his uncle, he could always stall or even veto a betrothal to Lady Margaery Tyrell by way of the punishment the Crown had inflicted on House Tyrell. Lady Margaery could only marry with the consent of King Aegon. Then he steered the conversation to possible betrothals for the King's other Stark cousins. Davos was on board with Edric Dayne for Sansa but startled when Jon uttered the option of considering pairing Gendry with Arya.
  
  "Why would you want to repeat history? Force a wild wolf into a betrothal with a stag?" He had uttered bewilderedly.
  
  "I wouldn't force them. I just mentioned this as a possibility. They get along fine. I realise that Arya is still young and likes him in an innocent way. If I would have to describe her feelings, I would say that she sees him more like a cousin or a trustworthy friend than a prospective husband, something akin to what she feels for me, I guess. Gendry on the other hand, I am sure that he likes her and that his feelings could develop into more if he let them."
  
  "Still, you always describe your sister as too wild and unwilling to become a Lady that has to run a household and produce babies." His strategy worked. His counterargument had made his young King more animated. The young man had momentarily forgotten his earlier disappointment and was defending his point of view with fervour.
  
  "But that is exactly why Gendry is perfect for her. Don't you see, Davos? In the eyes of House Stark, he is eligible. He is the heir to Storm's End. They both are members of a house that governs a Kingdom on behalf of the Iron Throne. They have equal status. But in reality, Lord Renly is only a few years older than Gendry and will run Storm's End and rule the Stormlands for most of Gendry's lifetime, perhaps even longer. Gendry and Arya would be free to live their lives. They could travel the realm, visit Essos, do whatever catches their fancy."
  
  "When you put it that way, it does indeed look like a fine match for her. But if you want my advice, don't mention it to Princess Arya just yet, son. It might do more harm than good."
  
  "You do not have to tell me that." Jon smiled, remembering he had used almost the exact same words during his talk with his uncle yesterday. "I know that all too well. Now if you don't mind, I still have some other things to take care of."
  
  "All right. My job here is done anyway. I got you smiling at least once." He touched Jon's shoulder and Jon nodded. A small smile still lingered on his face when Davos closed the door behind him. Davos had worked his magic once more. Jon felt a lot better and ready to tackle the remainder of the day. He would also heed Davos' advice and give his uncle some time to realise it was up to him to take the first step and clear the air between them.
  
  aaa
  
  Jon and Daenerys rode out of the gates of the Red Keep behind a large contingent of guards that all carried flags with the King's personal Targaryen sigil even if several of them were Stark men dressed in grey and black.
  
  The three Kingsguards together with Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah rode close to the royal couple. They were striking in their new armour and coats. Ser Gerold had donned his white cloak edged in gold. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell wore the familiar white cloak and their new armour also bore the personal sigil of their King, a three headed dragon complete with direwolf head. Ser Barristan wore a garment that had not been seen in Westeros for some time, the famed half red and half black coat with a white three headed dragon on the back and on the breast, the cloak was edged in silver proclaiming him as the head of the future Queen's Dragonguard. Ser Jorah wore a similar cloak only with the omission of the silver lining.
  
  Behind them followed two rows of candidates currently in training for a position in the royal guard. They were all dressed as befitted the members of the royal guard. Today was the first of many tests they needed to pass before officially being offered the position. Next up were a large number of nobles. Befitting their rank, Prince Oberyn and both Stark Princes rode side by side, in front of many rows of noble Lords and Ladies from all over Westeros. These made up the larger part of the procession. They were also on horseback and proudly displayed the colourful banners of their houses making it a sight to be seen. The tail end of the procession consisted of squires and servants who followed on foot and would cater to the needs of their masters during the day.
  
  Everyone was dressed up for the occasion. Even if King Aegon and his betrothed drew most of the attention, many eyes lingered on the famed Kingsguards and their shiny new armour and cloaks. Loud cheers rang out and everyone was smiling. The Kingsguard kept their faces serious, their eyes scanning the crowd diligently for any sign of a threat.
  
  Lord Royce could be proud of what he had accomplished. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. Everywhere Targaryen banners flew on buildings. All along the broader streets large poles had been erected for the occasion and the black and red banners of House Targaryen waved in the wind marking the route the procession needed to travel all the way to the square before the Sept of Baelor. Everywhere that it had been allowed, smallfolk lined the streets and the children waved the little red and black flags that had been distributed amongst them.
  
  The smallfolk that had tried to keep to their normal occupations and had not been waiting patiently for their King and Queen to arrive, couldn't help but overhear the enthusiastic reactions of the crowd. Many belatedly stopped what they were doing and hurried outside in an effort to still catch a glimpse of the grand spectacle that exceeded everyone's expectations. Those who succeeded in their endeavour, found themselves admiring their new King and future Queen without having intended to do so. Slowly the large procession approached the royal tribune that had been erected for the joust on the wide steps before the Sept of Bailor.
  
  The High Septon stately descended from the many steps and welcomed the King and his betrothed. Jon and Dany did not dismount yet. Next to the Septon, they halted close to their ceremonial chairs and watched the competitors ride up and make two orderly rows before the grand stand. King Aegon held a short speech from atop his horse, the Septon blessed the occasion and the Princess had the last word, wishing good fortune to all contenders. One by one the participants made their way past the royal couple and formally bowed before leaving the courtyard to prepare. Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur flanked the King's left side and Jon gave them a sympathetic smile knowing full well that in normal circumstances they would have been part of the large group that was parading before them eager to compete.
  
  "Next year." He murmured under his breath. "Better start choosing who you will crown as your Queen of Beauty then." They struggled to keep a serious mien. Ser Gerold, positioned some distance away had caught Jon's lips moving and shook his head. Jon merely raised one eyebrow, dismounted gracefully and then quickly made sure he was first in line to help Dany off her horse. He formally put his hand on her elbow and led her to the seats that stood out enough to be obvious that they were meant for the royal couple. The Septon took his place next to the future Queen and Jon was relieved to notice that it was Davos who took the free seat next to him. A lot of shuffling and organising ensued but soon enough everyone who had been granted a seat in the royal stands had found his rightful place.
  
  Lord Royce gave the signal and three trumpeters whose instruments had been decorated with Targaryen banners played a short tune heralding the start of the competition. Then Jon rose and clapped his hands as previously instructed and two competitors entered the tilt yard. The first round of the joust had officially gotten underway. Halfway through proceedings Jon started to get bored. He only knew half of the men competing and wasn't really rooting for anyone in particular. It also took some time between the conclusions of each joust and the appearance of the next contestants. Still it would not do to be seen yawning or looking bored. He smiled at Dany and they struck up conversation that halted each time the next competitors appeared and resumed it again when the winner left the stands to make place for the other participants.
  
  He was relieved when Lord Royce signalled that it was time to leave for the Dragonpit. A prearranged group of nobles left the courtyard to make their way toward the Dragonpit for the opening ceremony of the melee. Jon smiled ruefully at Dany who had confessed to him earlier that her cheeks hurt from smiling the entire time. There was little chance for any meanful interaction let alone to touch one another even though they were in each other's company for most of the day. Jon looked forward to their nightly discussion even if there was a chance that they would both be half asleep before they could retire to her chambers. After the opening ceremony of the melee, they still had the formal banquet to suffer through that was sure to last most of the evening and night.
  
  He steered his horse closer to Dany. "Just four more days." He whispered. "And then you're mine and I am yours."
  
  Dany smiled back. "Four long days and long nights, however will I get through them?" She blew him a kiss.
  
  Jon laughed and turned his attention back to the crowds whose cheers had increased when the saw the affectionate gesture of the Princess. He waved and the cheers picked up again. The smallfolk were totally on board it seemed. It was as if nobody remembered the Baratheon King even if his reign had ended only ten days ago.
  
  It was a sobering lesson to be remembered, Jon pondered. His own reign was still very precarious. They had not been acknowledged by all of the Kingdoms yet. How little would it take for the smallfolk to forget them as well and cheer for someone else? Jon tried to put these thoughts out of his mind. He had promised to forget all about politics until after his honeymoon. They had discussed the acceptance of the new monarchy by the smallfolk at their small council meeting this morning even though the meeting had only been meant to skim briefly over the pending topics.
  
  But as with everything, plans and intentions were just that. Reality always caught up with him and this meeting had also turned out to last longer than expected. They had eaten their lunch in the council chamber. It was the only way they still had been able to make it to the opening ceremony on time. While all these thoughts circled in his mind, Jon kept smiling and waving until they reached the Dragonpit. He had to play his part. Today the nobles and smallfolk needed the presence of their King and future Queen. And Jon had been raised to be dutiful.
  
  After Jon and Dany had acquitted themselves flawlessly of their part in the ceremony and the demonstrations had gotten well underway, he allowed his mind to wander once more. So far all was well in King's Landing. The smallfolk had accepted them and had cheered loudly. Jon felt as if the Gods were truly with him. Even flashes of his meeting with Uncle Ned couldn't spoil his mood. All things considered, he was proud of his achievements. His uncle had tried to play him and Jon had seen right through it. Now that he had calmed down, he was only left with a lingering feeling of disappointment in the behaviour of his uncle.
  
  He had trusted Eddard Stark unconditionally up until now and had always looked up to him. For sure he knew that Uncle Ned was only human and had his share of flaws and shortcomings but he had never expected his uncle to use his nephew's weakness against him. Uncle Ned had preyed on Jon's compassionate nature and esteem for his uncle. Jon was very appreciative of Prince Oberyn's lessons now. They had seemed rather excessive at the time but they had helped him see through his uncle's scheme. He would never tell Prince Oberyn of this particular instance though. His uncle was still pack. Davos had already assured him of his discretion. Ghost would not tell anyone either. However his direwolf would not forgive and forget that easily. Ghost had growled when Uncle Ned had walked past him when everyone had left the small council room and entered the hallway where Ghost had been patrolling. Dany had given him a questioning look and he knew he would have to explain things to her later.
  
  aaa
  
  The tournament was in full swing and the days flew by. Everything was going smoothly. Messages kept arriving by the dozens and were predominantly positive ones. The list of Lords that announced their intent to swear allegiance grew daily. Aside from the expected absence of a response from the Stormlands and the fact that there was still no official news from Dorne, the only real disturbance had been his encounter and subsequent audience with Lady Olenna of House Tyrell.
  
  The Queen of Thornes had accosted him on the second day of the tournament while he was walking back to his quarters after attending the afternoon session of the joust. She had dragged her son, Lord Mace Tyrell along but the poor man had clearly looked embarrassed by the forward behaviour of his mother.
  
  Jon realising that his Hand, Lord Davos Seaworth had officially informed her the day before of the way her House had been punished for their past behaviour and recent one-sided breaking of the long standing trade agreement between the Reach and the Crown, had quickly come to a decision.
  
  Choosing his words with care he had agreed to a meeting with the head of her House later that day. And as if it were a mere afterthought he had added in a magnanimous manner that if Lady Tyrell insisted, he would on this occasion allow her to be present at the meeting as well.
  
  Instead of playing into her hand and letting the formidable Queen of Thorns corner a young King, Jon had surprised her with the presence of his Hand and Prince Oberyn during her precious private audience. Before House Tyrell had been able to open the discussion, Jon had started the conversation by reiterating the terms Davos had read to them yesterday, namely that House Tyrell was only permitted to keep their position of Lord Paramount if they adhered to the restrictions he had put on them for now. These were non-negotiable. He had added that as an act of good faith from the Crown and in case that House Tyrell caused no further trouble, the King agreed to be present at the wedding of Lord Willas and Lady Myrcella to show the realm that the crown bore House Tyrell no ill will.
  
  To further soothe Mace Tyrell he had added that he had the utmost respect for both his sons and that he was certain that relations between the Reach and the Crownlands would improve once again if after his wedding, House Tyrell allowed Lord Willas to become the spokesman for all dealings between House Tyrell and the Crown. It would be in the interest of all parties that the wedding of the heir to the Reach took place as soon as possible.
  
  Lady Olenna had avoided looking at Prince Oberyn's smug face and for once had let her son speak for House Tyrell. In his pompous manner her son had reassured the young King that House Tyrell would be honoured to have his Grace, King Aegon as a guest of honour at the upcoming wedding and of course they would do as his Grace commanded in all matters. The man then once more apologized for past events and stressed that everything that had happened had been largely exaggerated and had been mostly caused by miscommunications. Of course House Tyrell had always been loyal to House Targaryen and would serve them to the best of their ability in future. Neither Lord Mace Tyrell nor Lady Olenna had dared to allude to a possible betrothal with House Stark, the King's closest family.
  
  Whatever Lady Olenna had intended to achieve during this audience Jon would never learn. It didn't matter anymore. House Tyrell had gotten the message loud and clear. There was no chance of either lifting the betrothal of their heir or the appointment of Loras Tyrell to his Kingsguard. Trade agreements had been rephrased to make them watertight. Lady Margaery could only enter a betrothal if he sanctioned it and he had let Davos make it clear yesterday that whatever they tried, the King would never bow to blackmail.
  
  Davos had managed to speak for a few moments with Lady Olenna alone and had warned her that for every malicious rumour that House Tyrell started, they would start ten others to discredit House Tyrell. All the guards that could potentially witness untoward behaviour of the young King were loyal to house Targaryen and nobody would believe Lady Olenna's word against the unblemished reputation of the young King. The Queen of Thorns had been silenced. In Jon's eyes however that hadn't been nearly enough. He had needed all his self-control to stay polite when addressing the woman who had tried to weaken Dany with poison to prevent her from appearing in public and had tried to shame him into forsaking his betrothed and force him into a marriage with her granddaughter. That was the reason why he had relied on Davos to inform the Queen of Thorns of the punishments he had devised for House Tyrell yesterday instead of communicating the terms to her personally.
  
  All in all, the private audience had been a short one and afterward a smug Prince Oberyn had stayed behind to congratulate the young King on how well he had handled Lady Olenna.
  
  "It helps if you have royal authority and everyone has pledged to obey me." Jon had downplayed his role.
  
  "Still, she couldn't even get a word in. I think I underestimated you once again, Aegon. That or my lessons have already taken root. My presence was not needed here after all. Still it was very satisfying to be a silent spectator. I have never seen her as powerless as these last few sennights. I loved the way you punished House Tyrell without repercussion to anyone else but the Queen of Thorns. House Tyrell will thrive as much as ever. But she has lost face in front of the entire court. As soon as that gets out, her days of intimidating people into doing her bidding are all but over."
  
  "Now you are just complimenting yourself," Jon had answered lightly. "I merely adapted a few of the ideas of possible punishments you planted ever so subtly in my head."
  
  "Only the ones you deemed fit. You made an adequate selection." Oberyn had studied the young King. "You didn't let on a thing at the time. I thought I had gotten away with it." He had remarked his tone clearly indicating that his statement was meant as yet another compliment.
  
  "I had a first rate teacher and have been told that I am a quick study." But Jon's smile had disappeared from his face.
  
  "I take it you have found deceit were you did not expect it." Oberyn had given him a knowing look.
  
  "If you know something, then keep it to yourself. I still hope to get that relationship back on track." He had warned his Dornish friend.
  
  "And you will succeed in that, Aegon. I have the utmost confidence in you."
  
  "Then you can join Davos in my personal cheering squad," he had teased to hide how moved he had been by this show of faith. Then he had turned serious all of a sudden. "Oberyn? Shouldn't we have heard from your brother by now?"
  
  Prince Oberyn expression had darkened instantly and a large frown had appeared on his forehead. "We should have. I am starting to get worried. Something is off. At the very least he would have sent me his thoughts on the political changes. But I have not heard a whisper. I wonder whether something has happened in Dorne. The most plausible explanation is that someone is sabotaging the ravens. I'll talk to Varys again to determine the fastest way to get reliable news from Sunspear."
  
  "Please do. It will be dangerous enough that Baratheons and Greyjoys are possibly forging an alliance against us. If Dorne should join them, we will have a substantial Rebellion to put down."
  
  "I refuse to believe that my brother would go that far. I can't be this wrong. I am sure there is a plausible explanation for his silence. And don't fear. Dorne will never turn against you. I told you of the contingencies I have in place. But I will take personal action and get to the bottom of this. I'll leave this instant and I will not return until I have a satisfying answer for you, Aegon."
  
  "Then you'll miss the final stages of the tournament."
  
  "Fuck the tournament. The best warriors are not competing anyway."
  
  "True," Jon had mocked, "because that would be you, if only you had trained. But then you didn't. So,"
  
  "So it would be you, oh gracious King, if only you didn't get stabbed. But then you did get stabbed."
  
  "Will you enter the list next year if you know the date well in advance?" Jon had asked the Dornish Prince.
  
  "Only if you enter as well." Prince Oberyn had smiled deviously. "But then, Ser Gerold would never allow you to put your esteemed royal life in danger. And nobody would dare to actually try his best against their King."
  
  Jon had shaken his head in mock disapproval and signalled his surrender.
  
  Prince Oberyn had stopped their banter and switched to a more serious tone. "I will be sorry to miss your wedding, Aegon. It is unlikely I will be back by then. Please relay my heartfelt excuses to your bride-to-be." He bowed formally before Jon could react. "I take my leave of you and will return only if I can lay Dorne's allegiance at your feet, your Grace."
  
  "No matter what happens, you will always be welcome and be considered a trusted friend and ally of the Crown and me personally, Prince Oberyn. Don't stay away if things do not go as you planned. Return to help me craft a solution. The royal court wouldn't be the same without you."
  
  The Prince had stayed solemn but Jon had witnessed a little twist at the left corner of the Prince's mouth betraying that Oberyn had been moved by his words. Another bow and then the Dornish Prince had quickly turned around and left the room.
  
  aaa
  
  The third day of the tournament Varys had managed to claim the seat next to the King. Jon had seen Uncle Benjen's disappointed look but had gestured to him that they would speak later. He had barely managed to supress a sigh. There were always so many conversations he needed or wanted to hold and so little time in which to do so. He remembered complaining of that very fact to Ser Arthur this morning. He had called the knight to come inside when he needed to adjust a piece of his ceremonial armour.
  
  "You are the King now. Everyone vies for your attention." The loyal Kingsguard had responded simply. Don't think this transition is easy for us either. We all find ourselves in unchartered territory. It was second nature to stay formal in the presence of the Mad King, guarding you is..." He shook his head. "How do I formulate this? Not only is it difficult to act so distant all the time, it is also more stressful. We are much more personally involved. Even though we were honour bound to the other King we served, our uh my feelings would be much more engaged if you came to harm. The stakes are much higher, thus we are more on edge."
  
  "And when you guarded my father?" Jon asked doing his utmost not to react too obviously to the emotion visible on Ser Arthur's face. He needed all his self-control to refrain from pulling the knight into a hug. "He was your friend, was he not? Did you not experience the same difficulty with him?"
  
  "You forget, my young King, your father was never our King and was relatively safe on Dragonstone most of the time. He stayed away from Court as much as he could. Things were more relaxed on Dragonstone. His safety was much easier to arrange."
  
  "I hope things will get easier here, particularly when the Kingsguard will count seven members again."
  
  Ser Arthur fastened his armour. "And when you finally appoint a manservant or a squire, which hopefully will happen soon." He playfully nudged Jon's shoulder. "There, all done."
  
  Jon was called back to the present by loud cheers of the public when a joust ended in victory for a knight from the Vale and got him through to the last eight. Luckily Lord Varys stayed silent during the first half and Jon and Dany spoke a little during the time gaps between the jousts. Therefore it came as a surprise when Varys addressed him all of a sudden.
  
  "This is a nice show for the people. They are reminded that they owe fealty to their King and can forget their worries for a while. That is easier to do that when they see the man that you are."
  
  "Don't speak in riddles, Lord Varys. What worries are you alluding to? I thought the smallfolk were mostly content. Supply routes have stayed open during the transition and food prices are under control once more."
  
  "That they are, your Grace. I was just making a harmless comment."
  
  Jon looked at him skeptically but was obliged to remain quiet since the next contestants rode onto the field. When after three attempts the winner of this round was decided, Jon turned his head back to his Master of Whispers.
  
  "You had a reason to choose this seat, I presume?"
  
  "Indeed, your Grace. And I will oblige you by coming straight to the point. I heard you prefer that. Rumours amongst the servants have multiplied. You should consider making use of a manservant or a squire. Things are escalating."
  
  "You are kidding surely. How can a small detail like this become a matter of such importance?"
  
  "You are hurting the reputation of your Kingsguard. More in particular Ser Arthur's. Vile rumours are popping up. It won't be long before Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold suffer the same abuse."
  
  "Can't you counter them? Replace them with something else?"
  
  "Your Grace, it would take such a small effort on your side to remedy the situation and improve the reputation of your most loyal men. I never thought that the day would come that I would accuse you of being selfish."
  
  Jon held his breath for a moment and counted to ten before he reacted. Was Varys right? Had he just stubbornly refused to change his own habits to the detriment of others? He turned his head towards his master of Whispers having come to a decision. "Who is best placed to present me with suitable candidates? Ones I can trust and who can tolerate the presence of my direwolf?"
  
  Varys nodded approvingly. "I'll send a boy to you before supper. Just a temporary solution but you can trust him with your life, your Grace. Of course you are free to find a more suitable candidate. How about taking two younger sons of noble houses as your squires? Why not choose them from loyal families from Dragonstone or the Driftmark. That would be a welcome solution to all parties. If you appoint two, they can alternate duties and will not overextend themselves."
  
  "I'll confer with Davos. Perhaps also with Ser Gerold since it would fall mostly to one of his men to give these boys sword fighting lessons and teach them other skills they need to learn if I chose to appoint squires instead of a manservant. Thank you, Lord Varys. You have my permission to send the boy to me."
  
  Lord Varys inclined his head and both men focused on the newly arrived contestants.
  
  "What was that all about?" Dany whispered when another knight had bitten the dust.
  
  "Apparently I have been remiss and need to stop using my esteemed Kingsguard as manservants." Jon whispered back. "Don't worry. Our marriage is still on."
  
  She smiled at his teasing words. "Only two more nights." She answered softly and the smile fell from his face, his eyes growing darker all of a sudden.
  
  "Two excruciating, long, lonesome nights and I can't even take your hand in mine right now to comfort me without having Ser Gerold stare at us in a disapproving manner."
  
  "And here I thought I was marrying a brave King. At least there is no banquet tonight and we can retire early. You can hold my hand then and more." She grabbed his hand and after making sure nobody had noticed, she caressed his palm with her thumb.
  
  "Minx," he accused her, his eyes almost as black as his pupils.
  
  "Pay attention," she whispered, "this is the last joust for the day."
  
  And Jon did pay attention to the contestants. Anything to ignore the stare of disapproval Ser Gerold was certain to cast their way otherwise.
  
  aaa
  
  On this third day of the tournament, the last two contestants for the joust for that day took to the field shortly before noon. The melee was scheduled for the afternoon. The third and final group of competitors would enter the arena to determine which two fighters would prevail and gain a place amongst the victors of the previous sessions in the final tomorrow.
  
  Jon and Dany had decided to forego the melee today. They had already skipped one appointment with the dragons. Davos Seaworth and both Stark Princes would represent them in the stands. It was more important that the King and future Queen bore witness to the final fight tomorrow so they could formally congratulate the winners and present them with their gains.
  
  This year it had been proclaimed that the winner of the melee as well as the runner up would take part in a final demonstration. They would be issued an additional challenge. It would not affect their status as victors nor their winnings. They would still be heralded as the official champion and vice champion of this year's tournament. However they would be asked to take part in one last bout, an extra treat for the crowds. The King had decreed that this year, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard would challenge the champion and the runner up. The crowd had cheered loudly when Lord Royce's voice had boomed over the courtyard to announce this surprise addition on the first day of the tournament. The crowd had cheered loudly and the competitors seemed more determined than ever to prevail and have the opportunity to test their skills against one of these two legendary knights.
  
  Because his Kingsguard was severely understaffed, Jon had needed to concede that they would have to forego the normal competition. If not, they would have been unavailable to guard their King for the larger part of four days. Sam had come up with this solution which had negated each argument Ser Gerold had uttered. This way, the famous knights could still demonstrate their skill and would only need to leave their King for a small part of the afternoon on the final day of the tournament. Jon had promised them that next year things would be different and that they would be allowed to enter both competitions if they so wished.
  
  Yohn Royce steered his horse next to the King's when they returned to the Red Keep for luncheon. Jon nodded to the proud Lord Regent of the Vale. "I said it before but it is worth repeating. You did a wonderful job, Lord Royce."
  
  "Thank you, your Grace. I am happy as well to see that everything has fallen into place. It has been a challenge. Next year though, I suggest adding an archery competition. I received many request in that regard. It is true that over the last few years, some tournaments have started to include that discipline."
  
  The Blackfish chose that moment to manoeuvre his horse to the other side of the King. Dany for once rode behind him next to Lady Ashara Dayne and his uncle Benjen.
  
  Jon nodded to the man. They had spoken shortly during the joust but not after Ser Lucas Corbray a young knight of the Vale had taken to the field. "Ser Brynden, what did you think of the victory of young Ser Lucas? Do you think he might have a chance to become this year's champion?"
  
  Unrestrained pride for the young knight that he had helped train now showed on the elder man's face. "I certainly do. That young man has tremendous skill with the lance and is an accomplished rider. He will have to keep his nerve though when he goes up against men with a lot more experience tomorrow. It will be interesting to learn against which contender he is drawn first."
  
  "Indeed. Are you enjoying your time in the capital?" Jon asked.
  
  "It has been all right. A bit more eventful than I had anticipated, if you don't mind my saying." The Blackfish smiled, showing he didn't mean any disrespect by alluding to the unexpected abdication of Robert Baratheon and a young Targaryen ascending the throne.
  
  While Jon shook his head, the Blackfish moved his horse closer so he could lower his voice and still be heard. "I will be leaving soon though. My elder brother, Lord Hoster of House Tully is ailing and his son Edmure, my nephew, seems to have trouble ruling the Riverlands. I hate to speak so of my closest kin, but my nephew will never become a great ruler. I advised my brother years ago to make him marry a strong lady that knows how to run a keep and can assist her husband, one capable enough to take over the reins if need be."
  
  "Did you have candidates in mind when you counselled him? House Mormont immediately comes to mind when I look for ladies with such qualifications. Did you discuss this with Prince Eddard Stark? It is his good-brother you are talking about."
  
  "Not yet, no. Until a few moons ago, the situation was not that dire. Hoster was still well enough to keep his son in line. Most likely Prince Stark does not know just how uh incompetent the Tully heir actually is. I beg your pardon, your Grace but my nephew Edmure gets under my skin. It is me, his bannermen have been pestering lately, urging me to step in and do something."
  
  "Just let me know if you need my influence. But if I were you, I would talk to Eddard Stark first and drop the idea of betrothing your nephew with a lady of House Mormont. I am sure he will help you negotiate with them if he also favours the idea."
  
  Ser Brynden inclined his head. "I will certainly consider this suggestion, your Grace. You might have handed us an excellent solution."
  
  Jon just nodded his head in acknowledgment of the compliment and the rest of the way they spoke little and only of inconsequential matters. Jon couldn't help but hope that his uncle would recognise this gesture in the way that Jon intended, that is a subtle way to reach out to him and prove that despite their temporarily embroiled relationship, Jon still had the best interest of the North in mind.
  
  aaa
  
  On his way to the beach with Dany and Ghost, they speculated on how much coin Oberyn would have put on Ser Arthur's chances of trashing the winner of the melee, had the Prince been able to attend. Dany had just laughed and argued that nobody would have been foolish enough take that bet.
  
  When they returned to the Red Keep after an uneventful flight on Rhaegal with Viserion staying in close formation, Jon left Dany at the base of the staircase and proceeded to his own room on the ground floor. Not only a young boy stood waiting patiently before his door but his uncle Benjen was there as well. Jon motioned to Ghost to stay put for a moment longer and smiled encouragingly at the boy. "What's your name?"
  
  "Cyrus, your Grace."
  
  "Well then Cyrus, first you need to meet my direwolf. If your heart is true, then you do not need to be scared. He has impeccable instincts and his only desire is to protect me. As long as you mean me no harm and you don't steal anything, he will be your best friend. Ready to go inside so I can introduce you?"
  
  The young boy swallowed. "Yes, your Grace."
  
  "Uncle, you can come in as well. As soon as I have changed out of these clothes, I can dismiss the boy and we can have some private time."
  
  "Yes, your Grace." His uncle eyes teased him. But Jon didn't notice keeping his eyes on Ghost. His wolf immediately approached the small stranger.
  
  "Just stand still and let him sniff you." Jon advised and watched approvingly how Cyrus bravely stood his ground. Satisfied, Jon gave Ghost a compelling look and the wolf bowed his head and moved to his usual place in the corner.
  
  "See, that was not so bad, was it? Now I'd be grateful if you would help me out of these boots."
  
  aaa
  
  "I see you have a boy-servant instead of a manservant." His uncle teased him as soon as Cyrus had left them.
  
  "Temporarily. I intend to go for a more acceptable solution and will take on two young squires. They can alternate duties so they don't overextend themselves. Varys advised me to choose younger sons from a noble house in the Crownlands, more specifically from Dragonstone or the Driftmark."
  
  "I can't fault that advice. Then you finally heard the rumours, eh."
  
  "Not exactly but I can imagine." Jon dismissed the subject. "Now what brings you here, Uncle? Don't tell me you have fallen out with the Lady Ashara."
  
  His uncle startled. "What makes you say that?"
  
  "Not me, actually. It was an observation that Dany made. She says you avoid speaking to Lady Ashara if at all possible. The poor Lady told Dany that she doesn't know what she has done to offend you. I reckoned perhaps she was trying to spare you by concealing a fight between the two of you?"
  
  "We did not fight. I just do not seek her company." He sighed. "It is complicated, Jon."
  
  "It seems that every issue involving this Lady and House Stark is being kept a secret from me. Can you tell me why that is?"
  
  "I'd rather not. She and Dany are close. You and Dany are close. It would get back to her eventually."
  
  "What would get back? That you don't like her? I think she got that message loud and clear already. You don't have to like her to be civil to her, Uncle." Jon took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down again. Antagonising his uncle was not the best strategy.
  
  "You don't understand, Jon. It is not that simple." His uncle shook his head and looked unsettled.
  
  "Then uncomplicate it. Either just be civil to her when you can't avoid each other or have an honest conversation with her to clear the air." Jon made sure to sound encouraging instead of accusing.
  
  "I have been doing the first, Jon. Apparently not well enough. I am not a ladies' man, not when I was younger and certainly not now. This only proves it again." His eyes implored his nephew to drop the subject.
  
  Jon decided to change to comply. "If it was not to talk about House Dayne, then I am still curious as to what brought you to my doorstep."
  
  "Did you and my brother have a falling out? I might be avoiding Lady Ashara but you and my brother have not been seen smiling at each other either."
  
  "So I need to work on keeping up appearances as well." Jon's offhand remark only made his uncle raise his eyebrow and stay silent.
  
  "We did have an uh disappointing discussion but rest assured, it had nothing to do with you. Uncle Ned did something uh a bit unworthy and I kind of called him out on it. He'll come around soon enough. But he will not if he learns that I talked to all and sundry about it. I do not want him to lose face, Uncle Benjen."
  
  "And there is no way this is merely a misunderstanding, Jon? What you are hinting at here is hard to fathom."
  
  "That's why it took me a while to catch on. He played me to get me to give in on an issue I would have granted him if he had asked me up front anyway. There, I said more than I intended already. Don't let on that I told you anything. I can't bear the thought of not patching things up with him before my wedding."
  
  "What if I sent for him and you talked it out right here and now?"
  
  "It doesn't work that way, Uncle. Just let us be. I'm sure we'll make up soon enough. I only hope this won't spoil my wedding day."
  
  "Not if I can help it." Benjen grumbled and Ghost raised his head suddenly more alert.
  
  "Let's change the subject." Jon's calm voice had an immediate effect on his uncle as well as on Ghost who settled his head on his front legs again and closed his eyes. "Did you rehearse the lines a father of the groom needs to say before the Seven?"
  
  Benjen smiled now. "That one tiny sentence? Just see that you have the sequence of your lines down. You have the larger role to play, my boy."
  
  Jon's eyes grew soft. "I rehearsed with Dany. She stood in for the Septon. We laughed so hard that I am sure that those stupid lines will be etched in my memory for the rest of my days."
  
  "I am rather looking forward to the wedding in the Godswood myself. Did you know that Prince Oberyn has a bet going on whether you'll consummate the wedding that night or the next?"
  
  Jon's expression gave nothing away. "And what do you think?" He asked mysteriously.
  
  "Oh, I don't think, I know." When Jon raised his eyebrow, his uncle added. "At least I think I know." And both men burst out laughing.
  
  "Is there nobody who believes we already anticipated our wedding vows? We had ample opportunity." Jon puffed out his chest.
  
  "Servants who make the beds know such things, my boy. This means that Varys knows, which means at the very least that Prince Oberyn knows as well since those two rascals started the betting pool and only gave us these two choices. Besides, I know you are too honourable to do more than give her a kiss and steal an innocent touch before you have the blessing of the Old Gods. That bad boy routine won't fool anyone."
  
  "And how will you decide who won the bet? What if I bribed the servants now that I am in the know?"
  
  "Varys will still know. And I will only need to look at your face during the ceremony in the Sept, my dearest nephew." Benjen stated with renewed confidence.
  
  "And for this conversation I skipped the melee." Jon shook his head. "What in the name of the Old Gods do I tell Dany?"
  
  Benjen chuckled. "That we rehearsed my one line as father of the groom since I am not familiar with the Seven Pointed Star."
  
  Jon smiled and shook his head again. "Yeah, as if she'll believe that."
  
  aaa
  
  Later that night in Dany's bedroom
  
  "What did you talk about, Aegon?"
  
  There was the dreaded question. Either he told the truth or took the only way out that their pact offered him, that is to declare truthfully that he'd rather not say but then he was obliged to motivate why. They had promised each other honesty. Somehow the decision came easier than he had anticipated. This was Dany and he had nothing to be embarrassed about.
  
  "Several things. We briefly discussed his behaviour to Lady Ashara and the cooling of relations between me and Uncle Ned. Uncle Benjen also mentioned that there is a bet going as to when we will couple for the first time."
  
  "I am rather interested to heart the answer to that last one." Her small hand cupped his cheek. "You have proven rather capable at resisting my charms."
  
  Jon rolled her over so he lay on top of her. I am a man of honour and I promised Ser Mmph."
  
  Dany captured his lips and her hand found the back of his neck so she could keep him from lifting his head. They were both gasping for breath when she finally released him. "Ever think they are very devious, these knights that are guarding us? Letting you come here in my bedroom and still expecting us not to oh" This time her speech was interrupted by a gasp of pleasure. Aegon was gyrating his hips and putting pressure on a spot between her legs that already tingled after their passionate kisses. "Oh," she moaned. "That feels so good."
  
  "Imagine doing this without our clothes on." He groaned. "I am going to spoil my breeches if I don't stop."
  
  To her dismay she felt him move and position himself next to her. "Aegon," she moaned when she felt his hand taking over and mimicking the pressure his lower body had been administrating between her legs. "Oh," she gasped in surprise once more when she felt his hand wriggle its way under her smallclothes.
  
  "Shhh, relax." He told her before his mouth smothered any sound she could think to make when she felt his fingers rub a very sensitive spot. He swallowed every gasp and urged her to relax once more when she stiffened the muscles in her legs. Sweat pearls appeared on her forehead but the predominant feeling was pleasure when she could no longer control her body and felt herself start shivering. Some sort of tension was building up inside now and just when she felt that she could no longer stand it, the feeling exploded and she experienced such extreme heights of pleasure that her mind went blank. She had never imagined a feeling like this to exist.
  
  Aegon stilled his caresses but she was barely aware of what was happening. He pulled her close and kissed her softly. When she could finally look him in the eyes again she saw that he was very pleased with what had happened.
  
  "That was a little something to tide you over until we really consummate our marriage, my love."
  
  "Did you feel pleasure as well?" She barely got the words out. Her mind was still reeling from the new experience. Aegon took her hand and guided it to his breeches. She felt a clammy spot. "Your released your seed?" Her eyes grew big.
  
  "I did. You were so irresistible when the pleasure overtook your body. I couldn't help myself. There is no way my guards will miss this when they accompany me back to my room."
  
  "What if you stayed here until it got a chance to dry up? Or you can pull your cloak tighter, or"
  
  He interrupted her with a short kiss. "They will smell it, Dany. Don't you smell us?"
  
  "Then refresh yourself. There is still a bowl of water in my dressing room. You can open a window as well. Don't give in this easily. This is a private moment between us. Let them bet and speculate. The least you can do is trying. For me?"
  
  He smiled. "For you, my love, anything. Just give me another moment so I can be sure that my legs will carry me."
  
  A bit later Jon's back rested against the headboard of her bed, Dany was neatly tucked in his arms her back to his chest. They had put a cloth on his lap so his wet breeches wouldn't soil her nightgown. He tucked his chin on her shoulders. "Do you remember my promise to you?" He asked quietly.
  
  Dany didn't reply but he could almost hear her thinking. She stayed silent.
  
  "I promised to tell you something before our wedding day. So I need to do this tonight. As you know, I will consider us man and wife as soon as we have said our vows before the heart tree tomorrow night."
  
  She repositioned herself slightly so she needn't strain her neck too much when she looked at him. "Are you ready to do so, Aegon? I would understand if you needed more time."
  
  "I am ready, my love. But if you do not want to hear it now I am willing to postpone it." His voice sounded firm.
  
  "Then tell me." She replied simply and resumed her former position. That way she couldn't monitor his face but she felt his presence and his warmth and knew it was probably easier this way for him. She listened carefully as he finally started to tell her what had happened beyond the Wall.
  
  aaa
  
  The next morning, Dany awoke feeling well rested. She did not remember Aegon leaving her but she did remember how close she had felt to him. Not only after he had touched her so intimately and given her such pleasure but also since he had finally told her all his fears and hopes. Even if part of his tale had been horrifying. She had long suspected the enemy to the north to be formidable and the fight to have been one to the death. Why else would he have found it so difficult to come to terms with it? However nothing could have prepared her for the horror she had felt when she had realised how close he had come to perishing several times.
  
  She had fallen asleep while he had murmured reassurances in her ear and descriptions of all he was doing to protect the realm from a future attack. She was convinced she knew all of his secrets now. He had even revealed a few that he was not sharing with his small council just yet. She felt ready to marry him. Aegon had been right. They had needed to have that conversation before they said their vows. Now she would mean every syllable. She knew all of him, he was hers and she was his. They would be one flesh. She would take this man.
  
  She smiled and felt a lingering feeling between her legs where he had touched her last night. He had promised to give her such pleasure often and had persuaded her that she must not be shy but instead be honest about this as well. He would always be considerate of her wishes. If she wanted for him to touch her more often than he offered or if she didn't feel like it when he initiated a coupling, she would only have to say the word. She had whispered back that that went both ways and that they would find a compromise if their desires happened to differ.
  
  Irri entered her room and Dany hardly registered her presence. Her handmaid just smiled when she caught her daydreaming and announced that it would be a memorable day. For the most part, the day went by in a haze. Aegon sat next to her at breakfast and held her hand under the table. They visited the dragons in the morning since the afternoon was reserved for the final bouts of the joust and next they would move to the Dragonpit where the six finalists of the melee who would fight for the honour of facing the two Kingsguards.
  
  She had smiled dutifully when the winner of the joust, a knight of the Vale had passed Lady Margaery only to crown Lady Roslin of House Frey as his Queen of Beauty. She had clapped enthusiastically when Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell had bested the winners of the melee after a breath-taking exhibition. She had been awed when next the two knights had faced each other. It had not been a fight with a winner but a demonstration of several fighting styles. Jon had smiled but Dany had been struck dumb, just like the rest of the audience. She was sure Varys would no longer report any more complaints coming from the new candidates. They would understand now why they had to go through such a harsh training routine without assurances that they would end up with a position in the royal guard. Those two knights had set the bar higher than ever and had shown to all present what it meant to be a Kingsguard for as far as fighting skills were concerned. She had been proud of Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell and had seen the sentiment mirrored in Jon's eyes.
  
  Now she sat at the center of the high table in the Great Hall, clad in her new silver coloured gown next to her dream Prince who was actually a King and watched how the winner of the joust, Ser Lucas, a younger son of House Corbray claimed his dance with Lady Roslin of House Frey. Halfway through the song, Lord Royce gave the sign and the champion of the melee, Lord Edwyd Fossoway, a younger son from a noble house in the Reach, led the daughter of his Lord Paramount, Lady Margaery to the dance floor.
  
  Aegon held her hand under the table. "We will leave when the first half of the ball is over and the musicians take a break."
  
  She nodded. He had told her that before but she could feel that he was growing nervous and repeated it to reassure himself as much as her. He had expected Lord Reed, the foster father she had yet to meet and his nephew, Bran Stark to arrive today and he was starting to despair. She knew all too well that the ceremony tomorrow morning was only a show Aegon would suffer through to placate the nobles and the smallfolk. Even if Lord Reed turned up in time for the ceremony tomorrow, Aegon would still feel as if his foster father and cousin had missed their wedding.
  
  The last notes of the opening dance trailed off and Dany motioned Aegon to rise. He gave her a small smile and together they started the applause that soon resounded throughout the Great Hall when everyone joined in. Then the musicians started to play the first notes of the second dance.
  
  "Princess, would you do me the honour?" Jon bowed to her.
  
  Dany smiled when she heard the formal words from the lips of her betrothed. She made a curtsey. "I gladly accept, your Grace." She tucked her hand in his elbow and followed him out on the dance floor. Silence fell over the hall. Dany smiled to herself. That would show Lady Margaery who truly held the admiration of the people of King's Landing. They executed the first part of their dance flawlessly and as prearranged, Aegon gestured to Lord Royce and several couples joined them. The ball had well and truly started.
  
  Aegon danced the next one with Lady Ashara, who then led him from one suitable young lady to another, first Lady Shireen, then Lady Roslin, Lady Margaery and finally Lady Ilsa Ruthermont. Only after he had danced six consecutive dances did she give him permission to resume his seat. Dany was not that lucky. As a woman, you couldn't choose your dance partners and it was impolite to refuse, even after six consecutive dances. Luckily Uncle Benjen and Uncle Ned had both been able to secure a dance with her. Even though she had been a little apprehensive, Ned Stark had been very amiable and had praised his nephew. He had sounded sincere when he wished them a happy marriage. When she ventured that he should repeat that to Aegon as well, he had acquiesced with a serious expression and she had seen him keep Aegon company during her next two dances. Uncle Benjen came up to her when the music fell silent.
  
  "Princess, would you like to join me on the balcony. I believe you might benefit from a bit of fresh air. You look a little flustered."
  
  Her eyes widened. "Is it time?" She whispered.
  
  "It's now or never," he teased and offered her his arm.
  
  To Dany it felt as if this was the first moment today that she felt really awake. 'It was time!'
  
  Interlude 40: The huntsman and the rose
  
  "My Lady?" Dickon Tarly touched her shoulder. He had followed Lady Margaery outside when he had seen her leave the Great Hall shortly after the young King and most of his entourage had disappeared. The young lady turned her head toward him and despite the fact that she had been crying, he still found her to be more beautiful than ever.
  
  "Oh, Lord Dickon. I'm sorry. I hadn't noticed you were in attendance tonight." She quickly removed the evidence of her tears from her face and looked around to check whether there were any other witnesses to her weak behaviour. "Please forget that you saw me this way. And don't tell Grandmother."
  
  "Of course not, my Lady. Is there anything else I can do to alleviate your sorrow?"
  
  "You could at least have come over and greeted us. Father would have welcomed your presence at our table."
  
  Dickon grimaced. He had made himself scarce so as not to be noticed by the King's entourage. He saw Margaery smile through her tears.
  
  "Losing in the third round is nothing to be ashamed of, Dickon. I shamed myself far worse."
  
  Glad that she referred to him by his first name again as they had always done when they were younger, he relaxed his posture and continued to try and comfort her. "I lost before an entire crowd. Nobody will know of these few tears you shed in private. Are you unwell, Margaery? Or has someone harassed you?"
  
  "It is not what you think. I just," she sighed. "You have known me for years, Dickon. You know how I hate to disappoint Grandmother."
  
  "Nobody can please the Queen of Thorns all of the time. You should be something short of a God for that and even those will incur her wrath at least once a day. Don't mind her. If your father and brothers are pleased with you, then you are doing just fine." He was glad to see her accept his arm when he held it out to her. "Isn't there really anything I can do to help?"
  
  "Not in the long run but for now, your presence is working wonders. Thank you, Dickon."
  
  The bittersweet pain he always felt in her company rose even higher in his chest at seeing her make an effort to be cheerful. Knowing full well that he wasn't allowed to do what he wanted, he did the next best thing. "The music has started up again. Allow me this dance, Margaery and then I will greet your grandmother and I shall steal her attention away from you for a while."
  
  "You can try." She added drily. "But I won't hold it against you if you don't succeed. Gods, it is good to see you again, Dickon. It has been too long since you visited Highgarden."
  
  He smiled, gratified by the candidly spoken words and the beautiful smile she offered him in return. He knew her well enough to discern when she presented her mask to the world or when she was genuine. He couldn't help but drown in her eyes when he gave her the worn out but honest to the Gods excuse. "Well you know my father. I can never get enough training done in one day, let alone take out a sennight for a social visit without a valid purpose."
  
  He led her to the dancefloor and under the all-seeing eye of her grandmother they went through their paces. It wasn't long before her soft voice tickled his ear. Margaery Tyrell had been taught all the do's and don'ts and it was not polite to stay silent during a dance.
  
  "I was surprised to learn that your brother is part of the King's inner circle."
  
  He looked into her large brown eyes and hesitated for a moment not knowing what he could reveal. In the end he decided to tell the truth even if he left out a few details. "It came as a surprise to me as well. I was granted an audience with the King because of it though."
  
  Margaery now looked at him without disguising her curiosity. "You did? And what did you think of our new sovereign?"
  
  Again he hesitated before given her an answer. "Even though his Grace is rather young, he seems to know what he is about."
  
  "I hadn't really spoken to him before tonight." She confessed. "He was kind during our dance, but we spoke of nothing of consequence so I haven't formed an opinion yet."
  
  "I bet your grandmother has one." Dickon laughed softly but his smile dimmed when he saw Margaery bite her lips. He cursed himself for bringing up the source of her earlier misery. He had always harboured ad a soft spot for Margaery and until last year, he had even hoped that maybe one day, he could be her husband. His father however had coldly shot down his expectations by informing him in his typical terse, impersonal manner that House Tyrell had turned down his offer to join their houses several years ago. It wasn't her fault though and he still could be her friend. There was nothing his father could do about that. He was broken out of his musings by her soft voice.
  
  "Where do you think the King and Queen have disappeared to?" She asked him.
  
  Dickon looked around. The high table was still entirely deserted. "I don't know. But wherever they are, they are in the company of all their advisers. Perhaps there is some political crisis?" He once more scanned the room and detected the two men who had been shadowing him ever since he had left his audience with the King. He had yet to speak to his brother a second time. It didn't help that he hadn't heard from his Lord Father yet either. The music had stopped and once more she took his arm. He escorted her dutifully to the table where her family was seated and resigned himself to spend the rest of the evening under the scrutiny of the Queen of Thorns.
  
  After Lady Olenna had criticised every detail of the table decorations and the courses that were being served, he welcomed the distraction caused by the return of the King, the Princess and most of their entourage. They all seemed a bit flushed and merry. If anyone had asked Dickon's opinion, he would have ventured that they all looked as if they had just returned from a private party with lots of wine and dancing. His earlier hypothesis of some political crisis was most likely way off.
  
  The King who had not taken his seat tapped his cup with a knife. A silence fell over the room. "I do not want to disturb this feast any more than we already have." He smiled apologetically at Princess Daenerys. "But I wish to toast to a successful day, one that will stay in my memory for years to come."
  
  Dickon saw the King take the hand of his betrothed and urge her to rise as well. They stood side by side and she raised her cup the same moment he did.
  
  "Both of us thank you all for your presence and welcome you all to witness the coronation and wedding ceremony tomorrow morning. For now I ask you to join me and my bride in this toast. Even though we won't stay for much longer, you are all welcome to feast and dance until dawn. Please raise your cups."
  
  The sound of chairs scraping over the tile floor created a cacophony of noise. When everyone had risen and an expectant silence reigned over the hall, it was Princess Daenerys who led the toast. "To this year's champions, to everyone present, to our loved ones and to all the people of Westeros, cheers!" Then the King and Queen looked into each other's eyes while they emptied their cups.
  
  "What a besotted fool." Dickon heard Lady Olenna mutter. "If the Princess has a lick of sense, she will rule the Seven Kingdoms in no time instead of that upstart of a..."
  
  "Grandmother," Margaery hissed but Dickon saw the young lady shrink under the poisonous look that Lady Olenna of House Tyrell bestowed on her granddaughter. Wanting nothing more than to put some distance between grandmother and granddaughter, he was about to ask her hand for another dance when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
  
  "Brother, would you have time for a talk now or is it inconvenient?"
  
  Dickon didn't get the chance to answer. Lady Olenna rather impolitely interrupted them. "Samwell Tarly, as I live and breathe! I hardly recognised you. You look different and not only because you are not wearing the tell-tale sigil of the striding huntsman. What a surprise to find you here at the royal Court. I heard a rather different account of your supposed whereabouts from your father."
  
  "I, uh, I changed my plans, my Lady. It was all rather unexpected, I admit. But you see, the King had need of my services."
  
  She narrowed her eyes. "What service can a Lord who has forsaken all claims to his birthright offer a King with vast support and two dragons? Care to enlighten me? Because I don't see ."
  
  "I was studying some things that were of interest to his Grace who I then knew as Lord Celtigar. I was able to render him several services that were highly appreciated and we became friends." Dickon silently congratulated his brother for keeping coherent under the intimidating stare that the infamous Queen of Thorns fixed on Sam to the exclusion of all else.
  
  "Mmph, became friends with the King. I presume you won't tell me what sort of services?"
  
  "No, my Lady. I am sorry. If the King reckons you need to know, he will tell you, I am sure."
  
  Sam cheeks had turned as red as Lady Olenna's. But Dickon was sure that in Sam's case it was merely from embarrassment while the Queen of Thorns was trying to reign in her frustration.
  
  "Sam, perhaps we should go outside and you can tell me why you need to talk to me." Dickon although full of admiration of how Sam was holding up under the scrutiny of Lady Olenna, came to his brother's rescue all the same.
  
  He smiled encouragingly at Lady Margaery and nodded in the direction of a mutual acquaintance. He made sure to walk past the man on his way out and whisper something in his ear. Then he left the room making sure he did not lose sight of his brother. At least he was confident that Lady Margaery would have an excuse to leave her grandmother's side for a while when the next dance started.
  
  "I think this is the first time that you have said more than three words to Lady Olenna in one conversation other than her title and name." Dickon followed his brother who led him to another part of the Red Keep where Dickon had not ventured before.
  
  Sam smiled and opened a door. He gestured for his brother to enter first. "Well it helps if you know that the King or his advisers, even his Kingsguard will jump in and save me from her thorns if necessary."
  
  Dickon stepped inside a bedroom that was larger than the one he was assigned to at home as the heir to Horn Hill. "You really have his ear then, Brother? What a stroke of good luck for our house. Do you think that Father will reinstate you as his heir?" He sat down in the chair that Sam had pointed at and looked around. Dickon tried to be happy for his brother but couldn't help wondering what this new development meant for him. For the first time in a long while, someone preferred his brother over him.
  
  These last few moons he had enjoyed his new status. Even if his father had been more demanding than ever, he had been treated with reverence by everyone else and had made several new friends. He was also aware that his father had received advantageous offers for his betrothal and was drawing it out. Randyll Tarly was relishing the grovelling of the neighbouring lords and taking every profit he could derive from the situation. For Dickon personally, Sam's leaving had been an eye opener. He now realised just how much of a difference there was between being a second or a first son and he knew that he would be severely disappointed if he would once more be relegated to being merely the second son of Lord Tarly. He waited with baited breath for his brother's reaction.
  
  "The King would force Father to do so in a heartbeat if I made it clear to him that that was my wish." Sam put a reassuring hand on his brother's arm for a short moment. "But it isn't, Dickon. Enjoy being heir to Horn Hill. I have much higher ambitions."
  
  The wave of relief Dickon felt at Sam's words almost made him miss the mysterious smile on the lips of his older brother. He faltered for a moment but finally got his wits together. "I won't lie and say that I am not relieved by the fact that you renounce your birthright willingly. It would be a struggle to adjust again. But what you are saying has made me rather curious, Sam. Can you reveal any of your plans to me?"
  
  His brother nodded and suddenly seemed to grow a few inches when he took on a confident stance. "The timing will depend on a few things but I aim to become a Maester and - don't tell anyone, certainly not Father-in all probability, I will at one time be named the youngest Grand Maester in the history of the realm."
  
  Dickon was glad he had accepted the chair Sam had offered him earlier. "Grand Maester?" He blurted out.
  
  "Exactly my reaction when the King first mentioned it to me the first time."
  
  Dickon could only conclude that his brother really believed this would come to pass and that this was not a young man's impossible ambition. "Then I am happy for you, Brother. It will be difficult not to blurt that out when Father disparages you yet again. But will the King still go through with such an important nomination if Father doesn't swear allegiance?"
  
  "Ah, I see Father was truthful then when he wrote that he only sent a raven to the King. The King has received word from our Lord Father. We know how to proceed and don't worry, whatever happens, the King sees me separate from our house. He might punish Father or you but never me."
  
  "Sam, you are doing it again. Just as you did when we were younger and played together at Horn Hill. Back then you also delighted in vexing me by speaking in riddles. What exactly did Father write?"
  
  Sam looked apologetic. "This time I am not doing it on purpose, Dickon. I am not allowed to inform you, I am afraid. But I asked to speak to you because I was ordered to give you the following instructions. Whatever Father decides to do, you will support him. You will not trouble him with your opinion. You will not advise him to do the opposite. Furthermore, you will not reveal anything to House Tyrell. If they ask, you will reveal only what Father allows you to tell them. And if Father doesn't tell you anything, then you just state truthfully that you know nothing and that our father is his own man. Also, but that goes without saying, you will not reveal to anyone the content of our conversation here."
  
  "What? How? Why?" He hardly got the words out. His older brother calling the shots, Father and Sam keeping him out of the loop, most likely planning something together, it was all unheard of.
  
  Sam once again put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dickon, for now, just trust that all will be all right in the end. I know what Father intends to do and I have made my peace with it. I promise you that all of us: Father, you, me and his Grace will come out at the other end alive, if it is the last thing I do. The how and why does not matter. Promise me you won't harass Father at any time, no matter what."
  
  "I don't understand, but if that is your wish, then I promise, Sam." Dickon was sure Sam would never do anything to harm him on purpose. Whenever his father had mistreated Sam in favour of Dickon, Sam had not once retaliated against his brother.
  
  Sam had withdrawn his hand but had spoken once more with confidence. "Remember, our Father is a tactical genius and I am rather smart. All will be well. Trust both of us."
  
  Dickon sighed. "I already promised so I have no other option as to trust you. I pray you are right this time as well, Brother. I might have been the better swordsman, but you always were the cleverer one. I will put my faith in you." Dickon saw Sam nod and a short silence ensued.
  
  "I saw you with Lady Margaery. Still crushing on her?" Sam teased his younger brother and with that remark the previous topic was officially closed.
  
  Even though Dickon was only ten moons younger and stood half a head taller than Sam, he blushed and readily acknowledged the fact that Sam acted as his superior for the first time in a long while. He conceded. "She is a nice girl, uh Lady. Can she help it that she has an ogre for a grandmother?"
  
  "Is she always nice to you then, Dickon? Does she not look down on you? She is expected to make a brilliant match, the entire Reach knows that."
  
  "They also know that Lady Olenna is frustrated as hell that she didn't know of the existence of the young King before he was safely betrothed to another." Dickon's voice gained conviction when he started to defend the object of his devotion. "Margaery is not her grandmother. She has never looked down on me, Sam. She has always treated me as a friend. Can you recall one instance that she laughed at you, mocked you? Many others did, but did she ever?"
  
  "No," Sam looked still doubtful though. "But that could just mean that she has excellent manners."
  
  "Margaery is more than just a girl with excellent manners. She has a kind heart. Even if she has recently been severely chastised by her grandmother for the Gods know what, she still made an effort to engage me in conversation and danced with me. And she knows that we are not to marry, so she did it without an agenda. She had nothing to gain by it." This was not the first time that Dickon spoke up for Lady Margaery. Sam was not alone in transferring Lady Olenna's ambitions to her granddaughter. "I know not to reach so high but she is a dear friend of mine. You will not disparage her to the King."
  
  "I would not do that, Dickon. You know me. I haven't changed that much. Hopefully Lady Margaery will soon marry and live far away from her grandmother."
  
  "What about me, Sam? Am I allowed to leave the Capital now?" Dickon saw the face of his elder brother close off.
  
  "The King had rather you stayed a while longer, Dickon. Father gave his consent. If you like, you are welcome to attend the training sessions of the candidates for the Royal Guard. Not as a candidate of course. Just to allow you the opportunity to receive lessons from the famous White Cloaks. Perhaps even the Sword of the Morning or the King will show up one morning."
  
  That got Dickon's attention. Just as everyone else, he had been blown away by the demonstration earlier that day in the Dragonpit. He swallowed. "I heard the King is skilled with a sword. Does he really fight as well as Ser Arthur? Or is that just exaggerated praise coming from his loyal supporters."
  
  "You could grab the chance to find out for yourself, Dickon. Perhaps you might like to stay around for a bit of your own volition after all. Who knows, the King might even invite you to spar with him one morning if I asked him nicely. After he returns from his honeymoon, of course and only if you are interested."
  
  Dickon still had to close his mouth when Sam had already called for the guards to escort his brother back to the Great Hall where the feast was still in full swing. 'Imagine that. Sparring with the King! His friends would never believe him. He would only rise in their esteem. Even if he most likely would have to admit that he suffered a defeat by the hands of King Aegon.'
  
  aaa
  
  End notes:
  
  The title of the next chapter is 'Two weddings and a honeymoon'
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Two weddings and a honeymoon
  Chapter 41: Two weddings and a honeymoon
  
  Summary:
  
  A chapter full of fluff but I didn't know how else to write this. We resume where the previous 'main' chapter ended.
  
  To make up for it, the interlude this time gives us a first glimpse of Euron Greyjoy's thoughts and ambitions. That part is not for the faint-hearted. Be warned.
  
  Notes:
  
  A big thank you to everyone who is still reading, certainly to those that have favoured my story. I would especially like to thank my readers that have left a kind review. I appreciate it very much.
  
  It took me a bit of time to get this chapter out but the good news is that I have made progress on future chapters and the next one will be posted this weekend.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Uncle Benjen had escorted her to her room where Irri and Lady Ashara were waiting to drape her in her maiden cloak and make some minor adjustments to her hair. Irri replaced the modest tiara she had been wearing with a fresh crown of purple flowers.
  
  "Ready?" Lady Ashara smiled encouragingly when she stopped fiddling with the clasp of the heavy cloak?
  
  Dany caught sight of herself in the floor length mirror. Two wide purple eyes looked at her with barely constraint excitement. She did not take the time to study the rest of her reflection. After a quick glance at the flowers in her hair she nodded her response to Lady Ashara who opened the door to reveal her two loyal Dragonguards. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stood there waiting patiently to guide her to the Godswood. She had talked to both of them beforehand and Ser Barristan had conceded the honour to Ser Jorah to say the necessary words. Both men however would escort her to her groom.
  
  Dany was the last one to arrive in the Godswood. Bright candles lit the path that led her towards the heart tree. Aegon stood between the white oak and the newly planted sapling. Tonight the young tree was not protected by a fence. A cloth lay between both trees and Dany knew that that was where they would be kneeling soon. Eddard Stark stood slightly apart. His uncle Benjen had taken up position closest to Jon. Davos Seaworth was quietly talking to him. Jon however only had eyes for her. She looked at him and noticed that he was still dressed in the same outfit he had worn to the feast tonight. He looked more majestic though with the addition of his royal cloak with the ermine collar and the modest crown.
  
  Seeing him standing there so tall and handsome totally focused on her and knowing that his only purpose for being there was to wed her, her eyes filled with tears and her sight blurred for a moment. She almost missed the small gesture he gave her, moving his head a fraction to his left. She blinked a few times and followed his direction. She understood when she detected a short man standing next to a young boy with thick auburn hair. 'Lord Reed had made it in time after all.' When she scanned the rest of the small crowd present, she noticed others that she didn't recognize and guessed that those were members of Lord Reed's family. She was happy for Aegon that they had arrived in time. Even Prince Oberyn was present although Aegon had told her that chances were he would still be dealing with an urgent errand. She considered all this a good omen for their wedding.
  
  The moment she stopped her advance still at a respectable distance of her groom, the simple ceremony started.
  
  "Who comes before the Gods tonight?" Prince Eddard Stark did the honours. Uncle Benjen had told Dany that while she had still been dancing, Ned Stark had used the opportunity to clear the air between him and his nephew and that the young King had been all too willing to restore their bond. Dany totally approved that her betrothed had sealed the renewed understanding with his uncle by allowing him to officiate their wedding before the Old Gods.
  
  Dany smiled and nodded at Prince Stark, hoping to convey with this gesture how happy she was that both men had reconciled.
  
  It was Ser Jorah's turn to speak up. "Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, a woman grown and flowered comes seeking the favour of the Gods."
  
  "Who has come to claim her?" Eddard Stark's voice rang loud and clear.
  
  "I, King Aegon of House Targaryen, the Sixth of my name, I claim her." Aegon had stepped forward and held his hand out to Dany. Dany's eyes were glassed over with unshed tears but she could still discern the warm grey eyes of her betrothed staring into hers with love and passion. She swallowed in an attempt to hold her tears in.
  
  "Princess Daenerys, do you take this man?" Eddard Stark smiled at her when she grabbed Aegon's hand enthusiastically even before she had spoken the words.
  
  "I take this man." Her soft voice pronounced the words eagerly. If anyone had still entertained the slightest sliver of doubt that these two were here of their own volition, then that doubt had been put to rest.
  
  Aegon unclasped the cloak with the three headed dragon and handed it to Ser Jorah. He accepted an almost identical one from Benjen Stark and cloaked her with it. She gave him a watery smile when he caressed her throat gently the moment he had finish securing her new cloak. Ghost chose this moment to step up beside Dany. Aegon smiled and she felt his hand softly brushing over the white direwolf's head that had been sowed on her new cloak below the three headed dragon. Then he stepped back next to her and together they kneeled on the cloth in the direction of the weirwood sapling. They simultaneously bowed their heads and Dany prayed to the Old Gods to bless their marriage revelling in the knowledge that Aegon was doing the exact same thing. This was a solemn moment and only the leaves of the trees surrounding them could be heard rustling in the wind. All the while their small audience waited patiently for the couple to finish. Finally Aegon made the first move and Dany quickly rose beside him. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek.
  
  Dany turned her face slightly and amended his gesture by kissing him on the lips for a brief moment. Clapping, laughing and even a little hoot from Prince Oberyn started the congratulations. After their nearest relations had all hugged and congratulated them, Aegon was quick to introduce his wife to his little cousin and Lord Reed. Dany was amazed at how serious and grown up Bran Stark acted as he answered her questions demurely. Ghost on the other hand was quick to break the young boy's composure by almost making Bran tumble over.
  
  "Ghost, go find Summer." Brandon Stark ordered while he attempted to push the direwolf off him.
  
  Ghost turned his head and looked at Aegon. "Go." Her new husband mouthed and the large animal almost toppled Lord Varys in his haste to join his sibling in the woods.
  
  "Princess, or should I say Queen Daenerys, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Lord Reed bowed to her. When he straightened himself up again, he stood at the same height as her.
  
  "Likewise, Lord Reed. We are overjoyed that you got here in time for the ceremony." She turned to Jojen and Meera who now flanked their father. Meera although not as tall as her sire, looked like a woman grown and flowered. Aegon had informed her that she was about to celebrate her fifteenth nameday. Jojen, even though he was shorter than Bran had already celebrated his twelfth nameday and therefore was a year older than the young Stark. Meera made a perfect curtsy and Jojen bowed.
  
  "Nice to meet you all. I hope you will enjoy your stay in the Red Keep." Dany smiled and looked at Aegon to receive a clue as to what came next.
  
  "Let us all return to the champion's ball for now. I want you all to celebrate a while longer. Do not mind us. My wife and I," Aegon put his arm around her shoulder and drew her nearer to him. "My wife and I will retire early. We have two more ceremonies to suffer through tomorrow and need to look our best."
  
  Dany looked up at Aegon and smiled to let him know that she was totally on board with his plans. She would soon find out that Aegon had not lied. The both of them stayed just long enough at the high table to hold a toast and swiftly disappeared from the room with Ser Jorah and Ser Oswell in tow.
  
  Jon murmured a few words to his guards before he entered their bedroom. He looked at Dany and hesitated. He had not moved away from the door.
  
  "Won't you join me on the bed? If you want to retire early, we won't have much time and there are still a few questions I would like to ask you about the crowning ceremony tomorrow." She innocently tapped the space next to her where she sat fully clothed. She had only shed the new cloak he had put around her shoulders and the crown of flowers which lay on the small table next to her brush and other personal items. When he still hesitated, she studied him more carefully.
  
  "Aegon, is something the matter?"
  
  He slowly approached her side of the bed and took her hand. "There might be if our wishes for tonight do not align. I originally did not intend to but you see, I changed my mind and I hope that you uh that is uh I was planning on joining you here and uh staying for the rest of the night. That is unless you..."
  
  Dany took advantage of the fact that she held his hand and pulled on it so he lost his footing and tumbled sideways on the bed next to her.
  
  "I guess that is a yes." He smiled now, visibly relieved.
  
  "That is a yes, pretty please." She answered and giggled when he pulled at her legs so instead of sitting up she now lay flat on the bed.
  
  "And here I thought I married a civilised, noble King tonight. Instead I find myself about to be bedded by a wild dragonwolf." She barely got the teasing words out as he pinned her under him.
  
  "Quiet woman, I have come to claim you." He played along at first but then proceeded to give her such a gentle, loving kiss that she sighed and pulled him even closer to her.
  
  After he had thoroughly conquered her mouth and was now starting to colonise her left ear and throat, she ventured. "Aegon, are we doing this right? I know I am a maiden but I had this picture in my mind of a handsome husband in my bed on my wedding night with a bit less cl... oh Aegon, that tickles." She couldn't help but kick him off her when he started tickling both her sides at the same time.
  
  "Am I not handsome enough, wife?" He towered over her now.
  
  "Can we make a bargain?" She offered. "For each piece of clothing you shed, I will shed something too."
  
  "Now wife, who was the one that got on this bed fully clothed in the first place? I will ask a favour for each and every item I discard from my perfect kingly body. Are you willing to pay up?"
  
  "Try me, my Lord Husband." She didn't blink but used her most endearing puppy eyed expression when she called his bluff. Then she added in a mock-pleading tone. "But be gently with me, my King and Master. I am after all but an innocent, ignorant maiden."
  
  "Let me sleep, wife." Jon grumbled when Dany opened the drapes to let the morning light enter her chambers.
  
  "You didn't let me sleep during the night at two separate occasions, if I recall correctly. I need some time to repair all the damage and make myself presentable to appear all innocent and maidenly before the High Septon and his holy Seven."
  
  Jon made an effort to open his eyes and turned around so he could watch her carefully. She had draped her wedding cloak around her shoulders but wore nothing beneath it. He felt that traitorous part of his body stiffen without his consent. "Any regrets?" He asked softly.
  
  "That would make me a hypocrite." She sat down on the bed beside him. "It was the most amazing experience of my life, Aegon. And I am glad you did uh other things when we felt the need again. I am a bit sore between my legs but I am grateful you left no visible signs where it matters.
  
  His hand caressed a bite mark on her thigh. "Do you mind this one?" He asked hiding the relief he felt that now in the daylight, she didn't seem to mind how he had laid claim to her body twice more during the night. Consummating their marriage for the first time had only heightened his desire for her apparently. Even if he had been taught how to please a woman's body, he had not been prepared for the reactions of his own body to her sighs of pleasure. He had loved how his member, when it had been buried deep inside of her, had experienced every tremor of her body and he had come totally undone when Dany's orgasm had made her narrow passageway contract for a time and had milked every last drop of seed out of him. Her soft voice broke through his musings.
  
  "No, that one I will cherish. If you had not noticed, you have a similar one at exactly the same spot."
  
  Jon lifted the covers and made a great show of checking the mark on his own thigh. "Hmm, I think mine is bigger. I do not understand. You have such a small mouth." Jon's fingers followed the contours of her mouth.
  
  She kissed the fingers that were still stroking her lips. "I thought you were rather satisfied with my mouth last night, husband. Correct me if I am wrong."
  
  Jon's hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her down so their mouths almost touched.. "I will need more evidence before I make such an important announcement. Come here wife and kiss your Lord Husband some more."
  
  "Just one kiss, Aegon. Then I really must ring for a bath. Should you be here when the servants enter?"
  
  "They probably already know, but for appearance's sake, I will disappear. In case you hadn't discovered it already, there is a side panel that opens and leads to another chamber. That will be my official bed chamber as of later today after the Seven have blessed our union."
  
  "And will you sleep there, my husband?" She still resisted his pull and kept her mouth inches away from him.
  
  "I thought those negotiations were behind us, the royal decree all signed and filed away safely." He replied but had trouble staying serious. "I can summon the small council and ask their opinion on the matter if that is your wish."
  
  She pretended to try and smother him with some bed furs, but allowed him to grab her and offered no further resistance when he kissed her senseless.
  
  "That is better, wife." He grumbled when he finally released her mouth and studies her swollen lips, red cheeks and her eyes that opened slowly to look at him rather dazed.
  
  Somehow she was able to rise from the bed shortly after he had released her. "Aegon, where is Ghost?"
  
  "I ordered him to go hunt with Summer last night. I wanted to have no rival vying for your affections." His face turned more serious when he added. "I hope you do not mind that he will be sleeping in the same chamber and on occasion be present when we, well uh when we couple. I will ask him to stay in the next room but I can't guarantee that he will oblige us."
  
  "At least he won't tell others our more intimate secrets." She gave him a hesitant smile. "I'm sure I'll get used to it, Aegon, even if I am a bit shy still."
  
  "Did you like it? Truly?" He asked, his dark grey eyes scanning her face for any signs of reluctance.
  
  She blushed. "I liked everything we did, Aegon."
  
  "Some things more than others surely?" He relented when he saw her hesitate. "Don't worry, my love. I'll give you more evidence to study over the next few nights so you can draft me a detailed report in a few days." A timid smile accompanied his teasing words.
  
  "Then I'll expect the same from you." She was quick to reply and blew him a kiss. "Now will you please make yourself scarce, Aegon?"
  
  "Anything for you." He jumped out of bed not minding that she saw his erect manhood wobble while he crossed the room to pick up his smallclothes and the rest of his clothing that were scattered about the room. In their haste to undress last night, they hadn't paid attention where they had dropped these items. He made quick work of putting on the bare minimum so he was at least decent, he approached the hidden entrance to his new chambers carrying the rest of his clothes.
  
  Dany stood there waiting for him. "I probably won't see you again before the ceremony. Can I get one last token of love from a Princess? I will never be able to have that pleasure again. I will have to content myself with Queens in the future."
  
  "Only if you promise to keep it short and leave." She stepped closer to him.
  
  "They warned me that once married hmph."
  
  He was smiling from ear to ear when she pushed him out of her room. 'Finishing sentences was vastly overrated.'
  
  When he was fully dressed he left his stately room and greeted his escort. He had been relieved that it was Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell who had stood guard in the hallway of the royal bedrooms. Their reaction to his appearance didn't make Jon uncomfortable. Instead he returned their warm smile and they escorted him silently downstairs to this modest temporary room. He was still sporting a big grin when he was being helped into his most formal outfit. This morning his 'boy-servant' was assisted by Uncle Benjen. In his function as father of the groom, it was his uncle's responsibility to get Jon to the Sept on time. The presence of young Cyrus however prevented them from talking about the reason for Jon's exultant mood. His saw his uncle bite his lip a few times to prevent himself from broaching the subject. The most they could do was exchange looks and a few small gestures.
  
  Jon received a cordial slap on his shoulder and a proud smile from his uncle when he was ready to step out of this modest room for the last time. They were immediately joined by his three loyal Kingsguards that all looked at him like a proud father would look at their son. Those warm looks more than made up for the stiff formal behaviour they exhibitedwhile they guided him along the long corridors toward the exit where the horses awaited.
  
  Standing in the middle of the Grand Sept of Baelor, Jon estimated that almost a thousand pairs of eyes were directed at him. He stole a glimpse at Dany who was stowed away on a small balcony high up from where she could follow the proceedings unnoticed. First they would crown him with the elaborate crown that four Targaryen Kings before him had worn. It was a heavy object made of red gold, with three points in the form of a dragonhead, each one adorned with a red gemstone. If he would have been given a choice, he would have opted for a simpler crown. Perhaps a slender band set with big square rubies. Aegon the Conqueror had worn one like that made of Valyrian Steel.
  
  He and Dany had discussed this and they had agreed that he should accept to wear the more pompous crown for now. However, as soon as they had successfully forged their own Valyrian Steel, they would ask Gendry to create two crowns similar to the one of Aegon the Conqueror. Jon and Dany would wear these when they held court or during banquets. Only on very formal occasions or for religious ceremonies would they once more make use of the more ostentatious ones they would be crowned with today. Fortunately for Dany, her mother's crown that would be blessed and put on her head today to proclaim her a Queen was much lighter. Jon was glad for her. He was sure that he would have a headache by the time the ceremonies ended.
  
  He bowed his head and let the High Septon put the heavy ornament on his head. He waited patiently until the man finished his septuple prayer and then gave all the answers that were expected from him. Finally that part was finished. He turned in the seven directions and gave all the nobles the chance to admire their officially crowned King. He released a deep breath when the music started that announced the next ceremony. It was time for the bride to join them.
  
  The doors of the Sept opened and all heads turned as one to watch the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms enter the aisle that led to where the newly crowned King was waiting for his bride. He saw Dany raise her head high and he smiled encouragingly when their eyes met. His bride gave him a nervous smile in response and kept her eyes trained on him in an effort to avoid being distracted by the loud murmurs of the crowd. Once more, Dany was led to him flanked on both sides by respectively Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan.
  
  Seven rays of morning sunlight entered the Sept through the high windows and found his bride. Illuminated like this, he could admire her much better than yesterday in the candle lit Godswood. This morning, her silver hair had only partially been braided. The rest of it hung in soft waves down her back. Her eyes shone and a lovely smile graced her features. She was clad in a dress of white silk adorned with fine silver coloured embroidery. The wide skirt was covered with a layer of white lace with a flowery pattern and brushed the ground when she strode toward him. A white maiden cloak completed the enchanting vision. The sigil of her house was present in the form of a silver broach of the three headed dragon that was pinned on the well fitted bust of her dress. To Jon, she had never looked lovelier. Nobody that watched her now would suspect that she had already been bedded the night before. She was the picture of a young innocent maiden, a gorgeous Princess out of a fairy tale that was radiant that her wedding day had finally arrived and she could marry the man of her choice and live happily ever after.
  
  She halted before him as protocol dictated. They stood stiffly facing each other a few feet apart and waited for the High Septon to step forward with the length of a cloth to wrap around their joined hands. Jon steeled himself for the long boring ceremony of seven vows, seven blessings, seven songs and seven promises. Somehow they got through them without mixing them up. Next the Septon started a long prayer lighting a candle beside each statue of the Seven during his long monologue. He knew that to Dany these words felt as foreign as they were to him. He was relieved when they finally got to the part where the words and deeds started to have more meaning. He met Dany's eyes with a suppressed smile when the Septon prayed for them to have seven children. When the man finally stopped his longwinded monologue, Jon took off her maiden cloak for the second time and placed the one with his personal sigil about her shoulders. "With this kiss I pledge my love." He gave her a soft peck on her lips and together they recited "One flesh, one heat, one soul, now and forever."
  
  Where normally this meant the end of the ceremony and the beginning of the festivities, it was Dany's time to kneel before the High Septon and let herself be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon stood by her side and waited patiently until once more seven prayers and seven blessings were uttered.
  
  "We need to do this only once," Dany had whispered in his ear yesterday evening when they lay tucked in each other's arms after they had consummated their marriage for the first time and had discussed the long winded ceremony that was still to come. He had nodded and kissed her hair. She had fallen asleep shortly after. By letting his thoughts wander to those divine moments, he almost missed the High Septon's final blessing and was glad he recognised the sentence from his own crowning ceremony so he was timely with his next gesture. He held out his arm to his Queen and together they presented themselves to the seven sides of their audience.
  
  The elaborate royal carriage waited for them at the bottom of the stairs. A small pathway was cleared by a mixture of apprentices of the Royal Guard, Golden Cloaks of the City Watch and the Stark houseguards. The crowd cheered loudly when they exited the Sept. Ser Gerold, Jon's two other Kingsguards as well as Dany's two Dragonguards flanked them and stayed very alert. Jon didn't notice anything untoward but would hear afterwards that two separate assassination attempts had been prevented. He only remembered how painstakingly slow their carriage had made progress through the streets of King's Landing and how difficult it had been to keep smiling and waving the entire time. Both of them were exhausted when the crowd finally disappeared from view and the loud cheers were muffled by the large wooden gates of the Red Keep that had fallen shut behind them.
  
  "Now we only need to make an appearance on the balcony and then we can eat something. I am starving." Dany whispered in his ear.
  
  "If only my mouth can still chew the food. My cheeks are stiff from all that smiling." Jon answered discreetly while they made their way up the stairs to the high balcony.
  
  "Poor King and Queen." Dany repeated the familiar tease. She accepted his arm when he offered to support her when her legs tired.
  
  "You will need to step up your training." He teased her when they arrived at their destination and she was somewhat out of breath.
  
  "You should not have disturbed my sleep last night." She bantered back. "If I am tired, it is all your doing."
  
  "Wave to the nice people down there. I doubt they can perceive whether we quarrel or not." His eyes danced with mirth.
  
  Dany didn't reply. By now she had noticed the large crowd and was clearly overwhelmed. She finally realised how many people had gathered in every courtyard and also on the hill outside the Red Keep that offered a clear view of the balcony.
  
  "Perhaps they can still distinguish that you kiss me. Now that we are wed, a chaste kiss on the lips in public must be permitted?" She looked at him a bit hesitant.
  
  "Only on our wedding day." He mimicked Ser Gerold's tone but the happy expression on his face betrayed his intent. So she did not startle and played along when he made a show of embracing her and touched her lips while angling them carefully so most of the crowd could witness this gesture.
  
  The cheers picked up in volume. They stayed up there for a few moments longer waving at the cheering crowd and then descended the long winding stairs. Halfway down, Jon took of his crown and massaged his forehead. "How long must I keep wearing this wretched thing?"
  
  "At least till the first course of the banquet has been served and all the speeches have been delivered."
  
  "How many speeches?"
  
  "Seven." Dany and Ser Barristan answered simultaneously and their small group burst out laughing.
  
  "If only the banquet had been limited to seven courses." Jon muttered when they had finally calmed down enough for him to speak.
  
  "Be glad that it will not be seven times seven courses." Dany teased him. "That was the cook's first proposition. I took me two days to talk him down to two times seven courses."
  
  "Seven for the King and seven for the Queen." Jon looked at her.
  
  "Exactly," she said. "You are still sharp, my King. You only needed to take two steps on this retched staircase to understand how I got him to relent."
  
  He took her hand and they put on the required smile when they entered the large hall.
  
  "Two persons broke their legs when they fell down the stairs while being uh intimate. At least a dozen were found unconscious in the corridors and the servants will have to clean up a mess in the corner where a food fight broke out long after their Graces left. The leftover food that escaped the riot, was distributed early this morning amongst the small folk that celebrated in the vicinity of the Red Keep the entire night along with some ale and drinking water." Ser Gerold made his report to Lord Seaworth who had asked to know the state of affairs inside the Keep. The damage that the public festivities had caused throughout the city would become clear over the next few days.
  
  "Nobody tried to sneak into the castle? No irregularities to report?" Davos looked at Varys when he phrased his last question.
  
  "None that I know of yet. I still have to debrief more than half of my little birds. Is there a reason you asked us here before noon? A royal wedding happens only rarely and it is bad manners to retire early. At least the royal couple stayed until after midnight this time."
  
  "Does that mean that I won the bet?" Oberyn's eyes twinkled.
  
  Varys nodded even though he knew the Prince had already learned that the day before. It was not surprising that Oberyn relished the opportunity to rub it into Davos' face that he had overestimated the restraint of the King he served and had underestimated the importance the young man attached to the ceremony in the Godswood.
  
  "Leave them be." Davos warned them. "I will shortly brief his Grace before they leave on their honeymoon. "I want you both to stay out of sight until they have boarded the ship."
  
  "I don't understand that boy." Oberyn shook his head. "Well except for the bedding thing of course. That part he did get right. But if I had an enticing young bride and two full-grown dragons, heck one suffices, I would fly away with her instead of being held hostage on a ship."
  
  "They will only need to spend one night on board." Davos protested. "What is so wrong with travelling by ship anyway? Besides, they will be allowed all the privacy they want."
  
  Oberyn smirked. It was so easy today to get under Davos' skin. "How long will they be gone for again?" Against all odds, he had returned in time for both weddings. He hadn't needed to travel far. A messenger had found him and given him the much wished for tidings. Unbeknownst to Davos, he had slipped a message in Aegon's pocket shortly after the ceremony in the Godswood had been concluded. Aegon had responded by arranging a private talk during the longwinded banquet yesterday evening. He had left the room feigning a need to heed the call of nature and Oberyn had known where to find the young King and his guards shortly after. Oberyn had been able to make sure that Aegon was informed of the latest developments and he had received the young King's consent to make big strides towards putting a larger scheme in motion.
  
  and Jon tried to enjoy their honeymoon to the fullest. Each day they ventured outside at least once and visited the inhabitants on Dragonstone. These were mostly informal meetings. Most of the noble houses had already pledged their fealty before the Court in King's Landing and the few exceptions would be travelling with them back to the mainland. They had made one exception and had held an informal session in the throne room when it became clear that the smallfolk living on the islands, including the twenty reintegrated prisoners really wanted to pledge fealty to their newly crowned King and Queen in person. But other than that, Dany and Jon had kept mostly to themselves. When the weather permitted it, they strolled around on a private beach until dusk fell and then ate supper outside warmed by a bonfire.
  
  At one point during their stay on Dragonstone, while strolling around the throne room and admiring the ornaments, they had reminisced about all the plans they had made and how reality was forcing them to compromise at every turn. Seated on the Targaryen throne with Dany in his lap, Jon remembered his dream of ruling from Dragonstone instead of from that ugly Iron Throne.
  
  "Do you remember how I told you about the feeling of belonging, of homecoming I felt when I sat on this throne for the first time?" He had his arms around her and watched the light from the window behind him reflect in her eyes.
  
  "I remember. I told you that perhaps in a few years, we might change our seat to here but..."
  
  "We have to rule from the Red Keep. Dragonstone is too isolated. I know." Jon sighed. "I like it here though. Certainly now that the court is still at the Red Keep and my Kingsguards are giving us all the privacy they can without compromising our safety."
  
  "And they are less informal. I think I never heard Ser Arthur tell a joke before. He has a wicked sense of humour."
  
  "Not only that. If he was not so keen on keeping his position in the Kingsguard, he would be a loyal friend and great adviser. For now, he won't budge. No matter what compromise I have come up with. For the sole reason of being able to talk to him more freely, I'd arrange for us to stay on Dragonstone more often."
  
  "We'll work something out. After the threat beyond the Wall is dealt with and we are blessed with children, we'll take our sons and daughters here on a regular basis, say a few sennights once or twice every twelve moons."
  
  He pulled her closer and gave her a long kiss. "About those children, want to try once more to get the first one started?" His finger tipped her nose playfully to make sure she understood this was only a suggestion.
  
  "I feel you growing stiff beneath my buttocks, my poor King. You seem to be suffering of that affliction a lot lately. As a dutiful wife I will escort you to our chambers and use my skills to cure you once more."
  
  The second half of their honeymoon they spent at the Driftmark. His foster-grandmother had been happy to see them even though the entire visit took place at her bedside since her health had deteriorated significantly over the last few sennights. Even if that had put a bit of a damper on his mood, Dany had soon been able to divert him and they had continued to enjoy this rare sennight of privacy.
  
  All alone in the small kitchen of the cottage where they were staying for the last three days of their honeymoon, Jon couldn't recall a time he had been happier. Only Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell had followed them to this location and both knights allowed them all the privacy they required. The only part of his daily routine that Jon had not been willing to forego, were his daily trainings sessions. He had merely changed the timing of these sessions to fit into the more relaxed schedule they kept during their honeymoon. Every day his leg regained strength. The sessions grew more intense and here on the island, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur treated him much less formal. Jon made a mental note to schedule regular visits to Dragonstone and the Driftmark in the coming years.
  
  All in all he was extremely satisfied with how things between him and Dany had evolved. All those late night talks during their courtship had made them very much at ease with each other. He had heard several stories of brides that had only been allowed to lay eyes on the man they were obliged to wed on the day of the ceremony itself. Now that he knew from experience how intimate the act of coupling could be, he could not imagine doing such things to a stranger he had only met hours before he needed to make them 'one flesh'. He understood by the nature of their roles in the bedding that the act was even more invasive for a female. Not to mention how an innocent maiden would feel if the stranger she had been forced to wed was inconsiderate or unskilled.
  
  He forced himself to stop that train of thought and shook his head slightly. He conjured up the images of his own wedding night. Their coupling had been a natural progression of their growing relationship. The act itself had been tender and loving combined with laughter and banter. He had never imagined it this way but they had found a balance between earnestly loving each other and lightening things up with playful teasing. If he counted his blessings, there were many more than seven. By the Old Gods and perhaps the new, fate had been very kind to him up until now. Even the looming war with the Stormlands didn't seem so terrifying at the moment.
  
  He chastised himself. He had promised Dany. No mulling over politics or warfare until they set foot in King's Landing again. He eyed the tray that he had been preparing in the small kitchen of the cottage that they had been allowed to use at the Driftmark. It was his turn to bring his Queen breakfast in bed. He added the flower that he had picked earlier when he had stepped outside shortly to check the weather. Two more days and then they would once more find themselves emerged in messages, audiences and meetings. As of yet, no ravens with an urgent summons to return to the Red Keep had arrived. Balancing the tray, he limited himself to only take one step at the time while mounting the narrow staircase. If his luck held, Dany would still be sleeping and he could wake her in what had quickly become their favourite manner.
  
  Once they made it back to the capital, a large number of messages lay sorted out on his desk, courtesy of Sam and Davos. They tackled the bundle labelled 'from family and other congratulations' first. There were also a rather impressive number of messages on the tray where Davos had put the ones that contained political requests or issues. The third tray contained a few documents drafted by Sam and Davos, summarizing the topics the small council had discussed during his absence and the updated list of Lords that had arrived to swear allegiance, the expected arrivals dates of the ones who had announced their intent to do so by letter and the very short list of houses that had not sent any word as of yet.
  
  Jon selected the thick scroll written by Robb first. Dany sat on his lap as they read it together. Halfway through, Dany protested, saying it was too personal and Jon better read it himself first. He prevented her from leaving his lap but Dany kept firm stating that she would be glad to hear a summary of the situation from Aegon since the letter was way too personal. She would feel embarrassed if someone she hadn't met before read such a letter without her knowledge. Jon didn't protest any further. Giving in was all the more easy since Dany had not opted to install herself elsewhere. She had stayed put and had taken a scroll from the third tray. Jon smiled when he noticed that it was the inventory he had asked Sam to put together of all the maidens and bachelors of the noble families grouped by region.
  
  He focused his attention back on the scroll from his cousin. Robb had started off by congratulating them both in words that left no doubt of his sincerity and Jon's heart had lifted. Then Robb had relayed the wishes and greetings from his siblings and his Lady Mother. After giving him a small summary of the main matters in the North the tone of the letter had changed and had indeed become more personal. At first it was all good news. Robb wrote how Gendry's visit had worked wonders since it came at the exact moment that he was ready to take the next steps in his healing process. He gave a few examples of things he had struggled with and how the new Lord of House Baratheon had helped him overcome them. Jon was also glad to learn that because of Gendry's positive influence on Robb, Aunt Catelyn had warmed up to the legalised former bastard faster than expected.
  
  But then he came to the point where Dany had probably been too embarrassed to read on. Robb had started to humble himself and had uttered self-incriminations for things that Jon had long since forgiven his cousin. Jon swallowed though when he got to the part where Robb described his version of the altercation with their uncle Benjen. Only now did he fully grasp how much self-restraint his uncle must have exercised. However, the way Robb repented touched Jon's heart and he could do nothing else but immediately forgive his cousin. He did so before arriving at the paragraph where Robb actually begged for his forgiveness. Jon was relieved to read that Robb ended the topic by informing him that a likewise letter to his uncle had left the rookery the exact same moment as this one. Jon put the letter down and hugged Dany.
  
  "All is well?" She had not continued reading the list she had selected but had studied his countenance unobtrusively from the first moment his hand that held the missive had started shaking a little.
  
  "Yeah," he gave her a quick peck on her cheek. "All will be well. If the letter Robb told me he wrote to uncle Benjen is as sincere and repentant as this one, they will surely reconcile. And with Uncle Ned guiding Robb more actively from afar, the North will be well taken care of. You must not hold anything against your eldest good-cousin when you meet him, Dany. I told you, lesser men would not be alive or sane after all he has been put through. Robb is a good, kind, honourable man and the very best friend one could have."
  
  "Then I will look forward to meeting him." She said and handed him the next scroll.
  
  Arya had sent a raven to announce their departure from White Harbour. He always enjoyed her short, straightforward but lively messages. Her former one had done much to put his mind at ease. His young cousin had written: 'Gendry made Robb laugh so hard he needed to hold his belly. And on the first day of his visit too!'
  
  The next message was from Lady Brienne. It contained mostly the same news about their sea voyage that Arya had mentioned but in a more formal manner. She announced that they were well on their way. Her scroll had been sent from the Fingers where they had stopped shortly to provision.
  
  He startled when he calculated the days since his reign. They had spent eight days on the islands and that was not including both days needed to travel to and from there. Lord Tyrion of House Lannister with his family and Lord Willas of House Tyrell would arrive any day now or might already be in King's Landing. These were two men he wanted to grant an audience as quickly as possible.
  
  "Aegon, what is the matter?" Dany still seated on his lap had long finished reading the missive her husband held but he made no move to grab another.
  
  "Just wrapping my head around everything. It is a big adjustment for a man, just come from the happiest days of his life to tend to the tedious business of reading these scrolls."
  
  "Then let's get them over with so we have a little time left before our first court session. Perhaps you can concentrate better if I sat next to you instead." Jon helped Dany put a second chair behind his desk and as soon as she was seated, she handed him the next scroll. They made quick progress from then onwards.
  
  Jon quickly scanned most of the messages but took his time reading the one written by Jaime Lannister. The first part of the message contained his sincerely expressed gratitude for the legitimization of his 'niece' and 'nephew' and the formal recognition of Tommen Lannister as heir to Casterly Rock. Jaime Lannister also mentioned the uncharacteristic delight with which Myrcella had announced her 'forced' betrothal to him. Lannister went as far as to state that even though a man of the Night's Watch was under no obligation to heed a King's words, Jaime would carry out without question any order King Aegon might think to send him for as long as he drew breath.
  
  Jon was glad to see that at least an equally large part of the missive was dedicated to the state of affairs at Castle Black, the ongoing negotiations with the Free Folk and the date that a council of Lords of the North would meet the representatives of the clans of the Free Folk. The meeting would be hosted at Castle Black. Cotter Pyke had promised Lannister he would be allowed to be present. That way he could report the details to King Aegon. Jaime wrote that the Lord Commander allowed and justified these actions by stating that they owed the dragonrider a debt for saving so many lives of both the Free Folk and the men of the Night's Watch. The Lord Commander considered it a mere coincidence that their young saviour happened to be a King. As a show of gratitude but most of all because it was the wise thing to do, the Night's Watch would keep the dragonrider informed of the situation beyond the Wall. The last paragraph mentioned that the Citadel had announced the imminent arrival of a new Maester for the Watch. The letter closed with with a detailed description of his ideas for increasing the Wall's defenses and a promise to write again before the next moon had ended.
  
  Jon sighed when he put the scroll down. "I will leave the rest for tomorrow. Davos promised me that the more urgent ones were at the top of the heap and we read those. Let us just cast an eye on the list of names of newly arrived nobles. That way we will know who to expect when we hold Court later today.
  
  When he entered his room, his two new squires were arranging his freshly washed clothed in the large wooden chest. By a stroke of good luck, Lord Velaryon of the Driftmark had solved his squire problem in one instant. His third great-grandson, Monteric Velaryon had just celebrated his eleventh nameday and they had been looking for the right person to take him on as a squire. At the moment, he had a ward staying at the castle of almost the same age. Renfric Rykker was a year younger than Monteric and the two were very close. After meeting both boys who went by Renny and Monty, Jon and Dany had needed no further persuasion. The boys had travelled to King's Landing on the same ship that brought the royal couple back from their honeymoon.
  
  Jon smiled when he saw them struggle to fold his tunics without wrinkling them. Even though he had suggested alternating the times they were on duty, the boys opted to do everything together. Only when Jon stayed out rather late, it sometimes happened that only one of them attended him.
  
  "Your Grace," two young voices chimed simultaneously as the boys performed a perfect bow. Ghost trotted over to them and let them pet him. The direwolf had taken a liking to the new squires at once which had gone a long way to reassure Jon that he could let his guard down in their company.
  
  "Monty, I will need my other boots. Renny, will you fetch the warmer coat. I wondered if you two are willing to come along to the beach when the Queen and I visit the dragons? If so, then gather your cloaks as well."
  
  Since it was the first Court session with the King and Queen present after their wedding, a long row of newly arrived nobles lined up to pledge their allegiance to King Aegon, the Sixth of his name and to pay their respects to the newly crowned Queen Daenerys.
  
  Willas Tyrell was present and had greeted the King and Queen from afar. Since he was bound by the pledge of his father, he was not on the list and had no opportunity to approach the King. Jon had made sure that a written invitation for a private audience on the morrow would be handed to him by Davos Seaworth before the heir to the Reach left the Great Hall.
  
  Lord Tyrion of House Lannister as the most prominent figure to swear his allegiance that day had agreed to be the last one to be led before the King. Davos declared the session of the Court closed as soon as the little man had made his public pledge of fealty to House Targaryen. Five of Ser Gerold's apprentice Royal Guards made quick work of emptying the throne room with the exception of Lord Lannister and his newly legalised niece and nephew.
  
  Jon descended the stairs of the throne and stood beside Davos when he greeted Lord Tyrion in a more personal manner. "I am really pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Lord Lannister. My uncle, Prince Eddard Stark recommended you to me."
  
  "The pleasure is mutual, I assure you, your Grace. And I will thank Prince Stark and consider myself even deeper in his debt." The dwarf inclined his head and signalled his niece and nephew to approach.
  
  Myrcella curtsied deeper than protocol dictated before the Targaryen King. As soon as he had given her the sign to rise she spoke shyly. "Your Grace, you have my undying gratitude for the kindness you bestowed on me and my brother. From this day forward you may consider me your most loyal subject." She curtsied once more and again didn't rise until Jon gave her the signal.
  
  Jon smiled while he studied the graceful beauty before him. The girl was slender, a bit delicate perhaps. She had golden curls and kind emerald eyes. He was glad that they had found the perfect solution for her. "Then I will count you as such and expect to receive an invitation to your imminent wedding, Lady Myrcella of House Lannister."
  
  Jon turned to Tommen Lannister. Where it was convenient to have Lady Myrcella's favour, it was more important that the young Lord understood his change in status and accepted that he was no longer recognised as a Prince and had no claim to the Iron Throne whatever happened.
  
  Tommen Lannister did not hesitate and showed his respect by bowing deeply. "You have my fealty as well, your Grace. I am happy to be recognised as heir to Casterly Rock and thank you for your benevolence towards my family. We are greatly in your debt."
  
  The formal wording clearly betrayed that the boy had been coached by his uncle. Nevertheless Jon had no doubt that the Tommen Lannister was sincere. It must have been a trying time for both siblings until Lord Willas of House Tyrell had showed up at Casterly Rock with the legitimisation papers.
  
  Davos coughed and spoke up. "Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, will you oblige his Grace and accept his invitation to attend a private audience tomorrow afternoon?"
  
  Tyrion bowed again and murmured his acceptance. At that moment Dany, who had been conferring with Ser Barristan approached. Jon took her hand and drew her next to him.
  
  "My Lady, my Lords, may I introduce Queen Daenerys, my beloved wife to your acquaintance?"
  
  After the bows and curtsies were dispelled with, Dany's soft voice addressed Myrcella. "Lady Myrcella, would you be so kind as to join me for a stroll in the gardens tomorrow morning? The weather forecast looks promising."
  
  "It would be my honour, your Grace." Myrcella Lannister curtsied and soon afterwards the royal couple left the throne room through the side door.
  
  "That was nice of you." Jon offered when Dany kept silent as they walked to their quarters.
  
  "She looks like a nice girl and I'd like to get to know her better. Lady Ashara mentioned that she might be a good candidate for the position of Lady-in-Waiting."
  
  "That would kill two birds with one stone." Jon quickly voiced his approval. "It would grant us an innocent excuse to invite Lord Willas to reside in the Red Keep after their wedding. You can't separate newlyweds. Seeing no one but his Kingsguard in the hallway, he gave her a soft kiss on her cheek."
  
  Together they entered the sitting room that gave way to her bedchamber. Dany turned to him as soon as they were behind closed doors. "I do not know when I will ever have enough time to spend with a group of Ladies-in-Waiting, what with all the meetings, sessions of the Court and private audiences, not to mention the official banquets that go on till deep into the night."
  
  While she spoke, Jon had installed himself on a soft sofa that had room to seat at least three persons. Dany joined him when he petted the space next to him. He gave her a quick kiss before he replied to her last statement. "Well for starters, we will reduce the number of small council meetings and court sessions. Also many nobles have left the capital while we were on our honeymoon so the banquets can be reduced to once or twice a week until eventually we can just hold them only for festivities, namedays or when important visitors show up. Soon you will be bored stiff and be glad for any distraction these ladies can offer you. They can also assist you with your other duties. Let them see to tedious household matters and such."
  
  "Do you approve of me choosing Lady Myrcella, should she please me, Aegon?" She nestled herself against his side and Jon put his arm around her shoulder.
  
  "You do not need my approval, my love. But if you value my opinion, then I can truthfully say that she looks like a sweet girl and might be an excellent companion for you. More so because soon she will be a newlywed as well and you will have more in common than just your youth and gender."
  
  "You don't mind that she was a bastard that only regained her status because of a royal decree?"
  
  "Of course not. I thought you shared my vision on the matter of children born on the other side of the sheets."
  
  "That's a nice way of phrasing it."
  
  "I hate the use of the word bastard when referring to the innocent children when it were actually their parents that sinned against the rules of society. So if you take a shine to Lady Myrcella, by all means, appoint her as one of your Ladies. You will only need to make sure that any additionally appointed Ladies do not mistreat her. I will not tolerate it and will immediately order the dismissal of the Lady in question, no matter which noble house the offender may hail from. Politics be damned."
  
  "I will keep that in mind, Aegon. Would you be willing to tolerate lady Margaery should I choose to appoint her?"
  
  This time Jon took more time to formulate a response. He tightened the arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. "I want you to be safe, Dany. Before I would allow her so close to you, I would need reassurances from her. I do not think that just some fancy words uttered by her would be enough to dispel my fears. And not only that, I would want to put a distance between her and her grandmother first. What exactly did you have in mind?"
  
  "I was planning on getting to know her better first. Ask her to join me a few times for tea, for a stroll. In the beginning I will always see to it that other Ladies are present. When those encounters go well and I believe her to be sincere, I will find a way to speak with her more privately when she least expects it. Don't worry, I will always see that one of my Dragonguard is nearby and that the food and drink I consume when in her presence is served by others."
  
  "So am I to understand that you believe her to be an innocent victim in her grandmother's schemes?"
  
  "I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. Please trust me in this, Aegon."
  
  "I do trust you, my love. It is just a matter of how much I will worry. Just promise me that you will take the necessary precautions."
  
  Danny nodded. "May we discuss a few more candidates?"
  
  Jon turned her towards him and kissed her deeply. "If we must."
  
  She gently pushed him away even though her eyes shone with passion and she was slightly out of breath. "I think these two will not need much debate. How about Lady Shireen of House Baratheon and your cousin, Princess Sansa of House Stark? Lady Ashara also mentioned the possibility of Lady Roslin of House Frey and she is still looking for a suitable candidate from the Vale. That way I'll have a candidate from each Kingdom."
  
  "If they agree, I don't see why not. I did dance with a Lady from House Ruthermont of the Vale at the champion's ball. Lisa or Ilsa perhaps? I don't recall her name for sure. I only had eyes for you at the time. He gave her a kiss on her nose. "The only question this raises is the average age of your companions. The way I see it, you will need to guide them more than they will guide you."
  
  "That's easily remedied, Jon. Lady Ashara will be our mother hen. She already acts as my Lady-in-Waiting without the official appointment. And I like how she has been going about it with the utmost discretion and delicacy. She never assumes too much but is always there when I ask her assistance."
  
  "Then I consider this discussion officially closed." Jon immediately encircled her waist and reclined the both of them on the sofa. "Now how much time do we have left before we need to leave these rooms? I find myself in dire need of some warmth all of a sudden, with a preference for it to be body warmth hailing from a soft, female, unclad specimen."
  
  "Any other terms or special requirements?" Dany played along while her hands started to roam over his buttocks.
  
  "Well, this King has been known to have a preference for purple eyed, silver haired beauties. As for the rest, he is not that demanding. He is even willing to assist the person offering her services in any way he can." His fingers had found the laces of her dress on her back and swiftly untied them.
  
  "Did you give the sign to your Kingsguard?" Dany murmured. Her pupils had grown larger and Jon knew by the way that her breath came in short puffs that she was as aroused as he was.
  
  "I did. Nobody will enter. Does that mean I have successfully seduced you, wife?"
  
  "Your first steps look promising. I will withhold my final findings till you are a bit further along with proceedings."
  
  "Then I will up the stakes." He released her and stood up only to lift her in his arms and carry her to their large bed in the next room where an evening dress lay ready for her at the edge of the bed. "That dress will have to wait a bit, but at the very least I can help you out of the one you are wearing." Her laces already undone, he slowly peeled the dress she wore off of her body, kissing every inch of skin that he exposed. Then he eyed her white satin small clothes as if they were the enemy. "These obstacles need to go as well." He grumbled against her belly as he took a piece of satin between his teeth."
  
  "The Queen has a problem with that, your Grace." Dany played along.
  
  Jon looked into her twinkling eyes that revealed just how much she enjoyed his attentions. "And for what reason might that be, your esteemed royal Highness?"
  
  "Her Grace will be cold that way and in dire need of body warmth, preferably provided by a strong, dark haired, grey eyed, noble King. Perhaps you can help the Queen and procure her such a body warmer?"
  
  "I live to serve." Jon grinned when he pulled his doublet over his head and then his tunic immediately after.
  
  Nobody made a remark that the young couple entered the private dining room slightly late. Jon figured they were probably glad that the King and Queen made an appearance at all seeing it was their first day back from their honeymoon.
  
  Everyone present seemed happy and relaxed to be together again. Wine and food were consumed and lively conversation kept everyone entertained. Jon was happy to notice that for once Lady Ashara and his uncles got along pleasantly enough. The strange tension between those three had started to irritate him, all the more because nobody seemed willing to explain to him what had caused it. But tonight all seemed well and by the time they left the table, everyone was more or less inebriated by all the well wishes they had toasted to time and again. Walking back with Dany to their quarters he felt lightheaded and ready to conquer any problem starting tomorrow. Tonight he would attempt to stay awake long enough to pleasure his wife. That would demand all the energy he still had left.
  
  Interlude 41: Dragonbinder
  
  Euron regretted his decision to accept the invitation to dine with 'King' Stannis the First of his Name. The fool considered himself a King because a Red Priestess had whispered some deluded prophesy in his ears. As if a man became a King by simply by proclaiming himself to be one. A man could only become King if he grabbed the power with his own bare hands and all his subjects cowered before him. Euron would be King one day. And it would be by his own doing. Only, he needed to bide his time and not make the mistake to show his cards too soon as that fool of a Stannis Baratheon had done. Proclaiming yourself King with barely any support except for the bannermen of his own miserable Kingdom, that was utter madness. And even Baratheon's own liege Lords needed to be threatened with the wellbeing of their family or they would have long turned their cloak and fled to the capital.
  
  It was no wonder that the man had begged for his assistance. Normally no Greenlander would want to ally himself willingly with the Ironborn. But 'King' Stannis had dug himself a hole and was desperate for any help that he could find. Euron had faked reluctance and was still putting on the mummery of negotiating even though he had immediately seen the potential of a temporary alliance with the Stormlands. He needed a way to get close to the dragons without raising suspicion and Stannis would be the one to challenge to new King to come to them and that green boy King would surely bring his two dragons along.
  
  So for now he listened to the boring conversations and second rate entertainment and already looked forward to return to his ship and fuck himself senseless using his latest hostages. At least the previous time that he had been here the the Red Woman had been present during Baratheon's boring monologues and he had been able to flirt with her. He was glad when the ugly crone who called herself Queen Selyse finally shut up and Stannis Baratheon gave her the signal to retire. A few moments later it was just the two of them seated at the large table. Finally negotiations could begin in earnest.
  
  Baratheon was eager to get started. "I got word from Lord Tarly. He is willing to consider coming over to our side if we can prove to him that we have a chance at succeeding. I might have mentioned before that he is a capable military commander from the Reach and has a large force of disciplined soldiers under his command. Prince Doran, the ruler of Dorne is also waiting to see how much strength we can gather and hinted at joining our cause if he believed that we had a fair chance at succeeding. Furthermore, the Golden Company is considering our offer but are still under contract. If if we reach an agreement on their remuneration, they will only be able to send men in four moons time if their previous commitments go as smoothly as expected."
  
  "So you have made some progress." Euron conceded. "What about those allies in the Riverlands and that northern house Norton or something?"
  
  "House Frey of the Riverlands and House Bolton of the North have stopped answering my ravens. So negotiations with them are stuck for the moment. I have sent messengers but it will take time before I will receive news. With your help, chances are that we won't need them." Stannis had the nerve to cast him an intimidating look.
  
  Euron kept his tone nonchalant when he responded. "Have you come to a decision regarding my terms?"
  
  "I was hoping we could still negotiate. I am willing to grant you the North on top of the Iron Islands but not the Riverlands. These must remain a part of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "Which you might need to rename." Euron liked pulling the man down a notch. This Greenlander was plain ridiculous: claiming to be King of Seven Kingdoms if you barely could hold the liege lords of one Kingdom in check. "What do you offer me in exchange for the Riverlands? How about granting me dominion over all the islands on the west coast from Bear Island going as far south as the Arbor?"
  
  "I would need to consult the map. But can already state that I will only consider including the Arbor if we sign a trading agreement first to safeguard us the delivery of all the wine, food and materials the Seven Kingdoms now receive from this island at the same fair price. And I would need to check first what we import from the other islands as well."
  
  "Then do your homework and I will return in a moon's time. It seems we have time on our hands in any case. I will fetch the warlock from Asshai that I have stowed away on a small island and bring him here."
  
  "And this man will help you bring the dragons over to our side?"
  
  That powerless self-proclaimed King had the nerve to question Euron Greyjoy's word. With great effort he pushed back the snort and kept a calm front. "Yes. That part of the negotiations is finalised. I agreed to your clause that you will only sign away the North to me after I delivered one dragon to you. We will be equals. Two Kings with a dragon each to defend our dominion."
  
  Baratheon nodded with a satisfied expression on his face. "Do you know of anyone that will grant me a loan, extensive enough to cover the hiring of another sellsword company for a few moons? As soon as I take Casterly Rock, I will be able to repay them with interest."
  
  "And you will yield thirty pro cents of the proceeds of the mines to me starting the day you ascend the Iron Throne." Euron repeated for good measure although it was all a smoke curtain to make sure the man believed that they would truly rule as equals afterwards.
  
  "That part of the negotiations is not final yet. For now I can't go higher than twenty five per cent. We can renegotiate as soon as the mines have been examined and we can make a reliable assessment of the riches still there."
  
  "Twenty eight per cent." Euron fixed Stannis with an unrelenting stare.
  
  "Twenty six and a half per cent and that is my final offer."
  
  "Twenty seven and I will sign it here and now." Euron kept up the show.
  
  Stannis nodded. "Twenty seven it is. We made progress here today, my Lord. The days of the false King are numbered."
  
  "Did your Lord of Light tell you that? My Drowned God doesn't interfere in the affairs of mortals. He just empowers his worshippers so we have the strength to forge our own path."
  
  "The Lord of Light has chosen me, Euron Greyjoy. That is why I do not feel threatened by your ambitions. I am the rightful King and I will be the one to sit on the Iron Throne."
  
  "And I will build myself my own throne." Euron concluded and rose from his chair. "If his Grace doesn't mind, I will retire to my ship. I sleep better when my berth rocks me to sleep."
  
  He almost sneered when he heard Stannis Baratheon give him leave to retire. Those Greenlanders and their presumptuousness. Nobody gave him leave to do anything. He did what he pleased and went where he chose to go. By the Drowned God, there wasn't a man on the entire continent of Westeros that had been where he had travelled to.
  
  Those Greenlanders did not know that Essos was at least thrice as large as Westeros. After he had travelled to the poisoned coasts of Old Valyria and was the first man to live to tell the tale - well he and the handful of survivors that remained of the fully manned vessel that had docked there - he had re-joined the rest of his fleet that had waited for them in the Gulf of Grief. From there he had navigated the Summer Sea, passed through the Cinnamon Straits into the Jade Sea to reach the Shadow Lands where he had been told that he would find several warlocks with great powers. He and his men had faced great peril but somehow he had prevailed and escaped with most of his ships and one captured warlock.
  
  Not a single one of these high Lords and certainly not that deluded Baratheon fuck knew what it meant to pursue your goal and take risks. Nobody before him had dared to do what he had accomplished. No man was ruthless enough to do what was necessary. He had made sure that everyone had heard the tale of how he was the only one that had been to Old Valyria and survived. It had made the Ironborn flock to him even though they suspected that he was a kinslayer, which of course he was. But he had told them a heroic story of his exploits on Old Valyria. He had showed them the black armour of Valyrian Steel and the large horn as proof of his own invented tales. The five men that had survived because he had finally given up on sending men inland after everyone he had sent into the smoky mist had disappeared without a trace, were no longer capable of affirming or denying his tale. Not that they would have dared. He had threatened to take more than their tongues if they made just a single gesture to undermine his stories and reveal that Euron Greyjoy had not once left his ship while anchored before the shores of Old Valyria.
  
  The truth of the matter that he would not tell a living soul was that he had found the black armour in an obscure shop on the Isle of Cedars and had stolen it the next night. Coming into the possession of the horn had been another stroke of good luck. One of the enemies he had made in Qarth had offered him the horn in exchange for his life. The blue lipped warlock had wanted to trick him into blowing on the damned thing promising him unlimited power over the people of his homeland. The man had underestimated Euron's shrewd and cunning nature. Euron had made a show of accepting the horn and had declared to blow on it the next day since according to his native religion, he needed to go through a cleansing ritual to honour his Drowned God and that would take all night.
  
  Unbeknownst to the warlock, Euron had used this delay to capture one of the man's servants and had tortured the truth out of the slave. No man who blew the horn ever lived. Before the poor soul had drawn his last breath, Euron had obtained another vital piece of information. His master didn't know the true purpose of the horn but the powerful wizards that lived in Asshai could read the symbols that became visible when the horn was sounded. Moreover, if ever there was a chance to lift the curse on this dangerous magic object, these wizards would be the ones to have the knowledge and the power to do so. After the servant of the warlock on Qarth who owned the horn had perished, Euron had absconded with the precious object but not before tampering with the warlock's daily doses of shade of the evening. It was always better to leave no witnesses if you wanted to keep a secret.
  
  The wizard that he had successfully taken hostage on Asshai and brought back to Westeros had quickly been pressed into his service. Well, the man lacked a few fingers and toes now but he had become a loyal servant. He had helped Euron to understand the properties of the horn and the side effects of using it.
  
  The horn was a thing of beauty. Not only was it six feet long, it was supposedly made from the horn of an extremely large dragon. It had a black gleam and was banded with red gold and Valyrian steel. When you touched the horn, it felt warm and smooth. After Euron had ordered it properly cleaned, its surface shone and became reflective. The Valyrian steel bands contained strange glyphs that only became visible when the horn was sounded.
  
  To Euron's satisfaction the wizard had confirmed that this horn was indeed an instrument that had the potential to bring its owner great power. The warlock had translated the Valyrian symbols that became visible and burned red hot whenever the horn was sounded. It had only taken five slaves to lose their lives before the translation had been completed. The wizard had been adamant. Euron Greyjoy was in the possession of a dragonbinder, an instrument that the dragonlords of Old Valyria had used to bind the dragons to their will.
  
  When Euron had lamented that dragons were extinct the wizard had told him of the saying that the world always needed to be in balance. Light could not exist if there was no darkness. Evil could not exist if there was no goodness. The fact that the horn had resurfaced and found its way to an owner capable of using it must have a reason. Soon there would be dragons in the world again. Since the wizard was a poor sailor and had almost died of dehydration, Euron had concealed him and the horn on one of the many small uninhabited islands of the Stepstones and had seen to it that two families of Ironborn stayed with him to guard the man and keep him alive. He had left them there without any means of transportation and made sure one of his ships checked in on the location from time to time.
  
  Euron had sailed back to Westeros and had conquered the Iron Island simply by killing his brother and spreading his fabricated stories. In hindsight it had been a tactical mistake to leave the wizard with the horn so far South. He, the owner of a dragonbinder, had suffered a great defeat at the hands of a young boy that rode a dragon and somehow controlled a second one as well. Of course he lamented the loss of part of his fleet. He had cursed and vented his anger in an exaggerated manner within his men's hearing. They would have expected no less from him. But secretly he had already been making plans. To keep his Ironborn happy and compliant, Euron had sailed south and had let his Ironborn plunder at their hearts' content to make up for the losses they had suffered at the Stony Shore.
  
  All the while he had tried to make sense of the political situation of the Seven Kingdoms. But it had been slow going and each time they reached another port, the news had evolved. When it had finally been confirmed that his niece had stolen the Iron Islands from him with the help of the dragonrider who had afterwards successfully claimed the Seven Kingdoms without having to fight for them, he had needed to take stock and reassess his plans. His men wanted to turn back and reclaim the Iron Islands but Euron longed to do it in style. He intended to return to Pyke on the back of a dragon.
  
  This is why he had ended up in the Stormlands and was using Baratheon's ambitions to facilitate his own plans. Soon their alliance would become a real threat to force the young King out of his cosy palace and make the mistake of flying his dragons close to a location of Euron's choosing where he would be waiting with the wizard, a dozen of doomed hornblowers and the Dragonbinder. The young King would not stand a chance.
  
  After this parlay with Baratheon, his next step would be to collect the wizard and the horn whose whereabouts he had kept a secret from Stannis Baratheon for safety reason. Now that he had met the deluded man several times, he was certain that his wizard would be safe enough. In any case, the man would not venture far from the beach and his fleet. But it was necessary to bring him here. He needed the wizard by his side to counsel him when they used the horn on the dragons. The warlock had forewarned them that it might take several tries since the instructions on the horn were vague on how long or how often you needed to blow the horn to bind the dragon to your will. They would also need to experiment on how long the effect of the horn kept the dragon in check. It might be possible that the last band of Valyrian steel had not revealed its secrets yet. It might also contain glyphs. He suspected that these symbols would only light up when the magic of the horn connected with an actual dragon. It might be true or it might be a clever trick the wizard was using to ensure that Euron did not kill him. For now, Euron didn't mind letting the man live.
  
  The day that Euron saw the two dragons for the first time, even if he had been dealt an enormous defeat, was the day that he had believed for the very first time that the Drowned God really existed and favoured him above all Ironborn. Before, he had always used the religion of the Iron Islands to manipulate the Ironborn in following him but now the existence of a deity that helped him had become the only believable explanation. Nobody survived what he had. He was fully aware that he had acted incredibly reckless at times, sometimes bordering on the brink of madness. And still he had always prevailed. Not only prevailed, he had always come out on top at the other end. Now he had even survived the onslaught of two large dragons. If there ever was a time to stumble across a magical instrument that tamed dragons, it was now. And Euron Greyjoy had done just that. Against all odds, he had achieved the improbable and the impossible.
  
  And that young Greenlander who sat the Iron Throne had more weaknesses than he realised. He was betrothed and rumoured to be very much in love with his bride to be. Taking dragons away from a grief stricken young fool would be even easier. While he walked with big strides to his flag ship he smiled smugly. Soon he would rule the Seven Kingdoms, subdue his niece on Pyke and take her as a salt wife. After that, the large continent of Essos would be next. With two dragons at his command, these territories could be terrorised into submission in not much more time than it would take him to fly there with his mighty dragons. Stannis, the powerless self-proclaimed King would have been reduced to ashes long before that happened.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon tries to settle into a routine but nothing is routine in this universe.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Keep your guard up
  Chapter 42: Keep your guard up
  
  Summary:
  
  King's Landing, almost two sennights after events of chapter 41
  
  Notes:
  
  Enjoy
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Day 38 in the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name
  
  Lord Reed sat in the chair before the large desk and waited patiently for King Aegon to appear. The messenger that had come to his quarters to inform him that the King had finished his training session had also warned him that his Grace still needed to take a quick bath and change his clothes. He however had not waited a moment longer and donned his coat to make his way to the main building where the King's study was situated. A young guard had hesitated to let him enter the room but eventually conceded when young Tarly who had heard the commotion from the room next door had come over and vouched for him.
  
  Howland had seated himself and used the time he still needed to wait to calm his mind and focus on the task at hand. The outcome of this meeting might turn out to be crucial. He needed to go the right way about it. Jon needed to hear his warnings and believe them. It was necessary that the young King heeded his words. Howland had also come here today to acquire Jon's support to carry out a vital part in the plan to defeat the Night King. His word would not be enough to convince others to put into motion what was absolutely necessary to given them a chance at survival. If Jon or rather King Aegon could use his royal authority to chip the balance in his favour, they would stand a chance at survival.
  
  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would need to keep his wits about him and find the right words. The words to persuade the Prince or rather the King That Was Promised that he needed to put his allies in the right position to assist him. On his own the prophesied saviour didn't stand a chance. He startled when the door opened and the young man in question entered with an apologetic smile on his face. Lord Reed stood and bowed. "Your Grace."
  
  "Good morning, Lord Reed. Please sit down again. I am rather curious to know why after being here for some time all of a sudden you are so impatient to meet." Jon circled the desk and took a seat as well.
  
  "Thank you for indulging me on such short notice, your Grace."
  
  Jon smiled. "Jon, please call me Jon. We are in private. Even if I am no longer your ward, we are more than just a sovereign and subject, are we not?"
  
  "I'd like to think so, Jon. And that is why you need to believe everything I have come here to tell you."
  
  "Of course. You have never steered me wrong before. May I call you Howland? It will sound strange at first but Lord Reed no longer sounds right either."
  
  Howland Reed nodded his consent. "Tell me, Jon. Do you still have greendreams?"
  
  Jon frowned. "I have had so much on my mind that I forgot all about that. No, I have not had a single vision since coming to the Capital. Do you suppose that is because the weirwood sapling is still too young? Is the presence of the Old Gods not strong enough here?"
  
  "You need to believe that the Old Gods will find a means to contact you when they need to, Jon. If they cannot reach you here, they will use your cousin or me to warn you. Amongst other things I wanted to repeat the warning I gave you at Greywater Watch last time. We both experienced that the trees can be a medium for the Old Gods as well as for our mythical enemy. For the moment, it appears that you have weakened their leader enough to prevent him from reaching this far south through the trees but stay vigilant."
  
  "Mayhap the Night King is not so much weakened but instead has been focusing on other things for now." Jon saw Howland nervously play with his fingers. "What? Did you learn something about him? Is that why you called for this meeting?"
  
  "I have not been allowed to see much, just a few short glimpses. Bran has described some images as well." He sighed. "It is not good news, Jon."
  
  "Tell me. It is better to be prepared."
  
  "I saw other ice creatures. Something akin to giant spiders that are very agile. Each of their legs ends in a sharp point. Some stand as tall as Ghost. Bran saw them too. Your cousin caught a glimpse of a White Walker sitting atop a giant dead bear wearing armour, more specifically a chest plate."
  
  Jon frowned and remembered the last White Walker that they had destroyed on the raft. They had discussed this before and one of their guesses had been that it could have been a test of the Night King. The White Walker had stopped resisting his fate after all his wights had been defeated. He had just spread his arms making himself an easy target for the archers. He looked at Howland Reed. "They learned from their defeat and are neutralising their vulnerability. Dragonglass won't cut through armour."
  
  "No but Valyrian Steel will. You must move forward with your plans and not hold back, Jon." Howland's knowing eyes held his.
  
  Jon startled. "You know of the restrictions? Of the oath I had to swear? Did the Old Gods betray the secrets of House Targaryen?"
  
  "They did not. The answer is much simpler. You did not have much time to speak to me but Samwell Tarly and I spoke while we searched for information in the library. Don't fault him. He didn't reveal much, merely enough for me to be able to fill in the blanks. Your attitude right now confirmed my theory."
  
  "I am only allowed to use the newly forged Valyrian Steel to safeguard the survival of the Targaryen bloodline. Everyone I choose to gift with such a weapon or armour becomes my responsibility. I will be held accountable for the deeds they commit with it. If afterwards they use this newly forged Valyrian steel to gain more power or kill others, I and I alone am guilty."
  
  "To protect the survival of your house, you will need to kill every last White Walker, Jon. And you can't do it alone. You will have to provide your best fighters with weapons and armour made from your newly forged Valyrian Steel. Make them swear oaths, if that eases your conscience. Make them promise to return these weapons to you in the event we all survive. But do not let these restrictions hold you back. Your blacksmith will arrive soon. Put him to work immediately. Let Samwell design armour to protect your dragons. Make as much as you can. If you do not, the enemy will only profit from your scruples."
  
  Jon straightened his posture. "What else do you know about our enemy, Howland? You said we weakened him and in the same breath you tell me he has grown smarter. You seem to fear him a great deal."
  
  "I have not seen visions of the future for some time now and that is what frightens the hells out of me, Jon. Normally I would expect to see something, even if it was just a trivial vision irrelevant to our current troubles. An occurrence featuring someone I know at a more advanced age than she or he is now, but I haven't for some time and neither has your cousin Bran. That is not a good omen."
  
  Jon leaned forward now, his eyes had grown bigger. "Are you trying to tell me that that there might not be a future for the living?"
  
  "That is one explanation. As things stand now, it might very well be that our chances are slim. The future is not set in stone though. Everything we do now has an impact. Therefore we need to step up and do all we can. Perhaps we have been lulled into complacency and are playing right into the cards of our enemy."
  
  Both men fell silent needing to come to terms with this line of thinking. Jon looked out of the window and watched a raven land on a windowsill high up in the tower that housed the rookery. "How is Bran? How is he taking all this?" He asked Howland Reed when he finally turned his head back toward his former foster father.
  
  "As well as he can be under the circumstances. This is where I need you to believe me, Jon. Know that I have come to care for your cousin and have the greatest respect for his potential. And there lies the problem. I have taught him all I can but he needs to learn more."
  
  "He is still a child, Howland. What are you hinting at?" Jon recalled the image of his younger cousin who had cheerfully interrupted his training earlier this morning. He had come to fetch Ghost so Summer would have a companion while they explored the Godswood or what passed for it in King's Landing.
  
  "Jon, the enemy has withdrawn to a place far north where he is safe and can regroup, grow stronger and develop his magic. We know he is a greenseer and he will use this respite to become a more powerful one. To stand a chance against him, we need someone who is equally powerful."
  
  "Bran? What makes you think that a boy that has barely celebrated eleven namedays can be this pivotal figure that might tip the scales in our favour? Why can't a more experienced greenseer like you for example play this role?"
  
  "As it turns out, it is his fate. If we give him the means, Bran has the potential to grow more powerful than any greenseer this side of the Wall in thousands of years. Just as you will have your role to play, he has his to play as well. The Gods are persistent. Bran is being haunted by visions. Also a force is compelling him to go north to a place beyond the Wall. We have to let him go."
  
  "Are you sure that that is not the Night King trying to lure him in?"
  
  Howland Reed saw the reluctance on the young King's face. He knew it was a big ask. He was apprehensive as well. He needed to persuade the young King that letting Bran go was the only option. King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name was the only one with the authority to overrule Bran's parents. He put all the conviction that he could into his voice. "I am one hundred per cent sure that it is not the Night King that is calling for Bran. The three of us have felt the presence of the Night King. Admit that you felt it too, Jon. You would recognise that feeling in an instant if this enemy reached out to you again through the trees. Bran is adamant that whoever is calling him north is on our side. Besides, we know where the Night King is for the moment. Bran doesn't need to travel that far north."
  
  Somehow Jon was able to keep still in his chair and project an image of composure even if he felt exactly the opposite. He kept his voice friendly. "Stop giving me bits and pieces of information, Howland. Just tell me what your intentions are and what you need me to do, please?"
  
  Howland Reed took a deep breath and fixed his former ward with a determined stare. He had laid all the groundwork and had the young man's attention. It was time to put his cards on the table. "Bran needs to go beyond the Wall. There is a large heart tree a few days' ride from Castle Black. We have allies there. Allies we believed long dead: the remaining Children of the Forest. They have not only survived, they still are able to wield powerful magic. Up there also resides a powerful greenseer who can teach Bran what he needs to learn. You know the history of the first Long Night very well by now. Only when the Children of the Forest allied themselves with the First Men, did they stand a chance to defeat the Long Night. The Children of the Forest have reawoken. Every night, they infiltrate Bran's dreams and call for your cousin to come to them. It is making him restless. He must go north beyond the Wall and soon."
  
  "Aunt Catelyn and Uncle Stark, they will never allow him to go. Aunt Catelyn is counting the days to reunite with her son here in King's Landing. I thought that was the reason you lingered so long in the capital. I have never known you to leave the Neck for such a long period of time. If I am right, you haven't, not since the Rebellion. Aunt Catelyn and my two cousins will be here in approximately eight days. She will never agree to let you take him away so soon not to the Neck and certainly not beyond the Wall."
  
  "That is where I need your help, Jon. You are the only one that can overrule them. At the very least you must persuade them to let him return with me to Greywater Watch."
  
  "Not by talk of the Children of the Forest. We decided to keep the full extent of what Bran can do under wraps for his safety and to give him a semblance of normality. At least those who do not know what he can do still treat him as a normal human being."
  
  "Jon, Bran is not a normal boy and soon will have to leave his childhood behind. It doesn't bring anything if you refuse to accept what is to happen. Bran will need to change to become a vital asset in the war for the Dawn. Without him reaching his potential, you won't stand a chance when you face the Night King."
  
  "How can you be so sure that there is no other way? Can't we ask for the help of this powerful greenseer who lives among these Children of the Forest?"
  
  "Talk to your cousin, Jon. Let Bran explain it. And don't talk to him like you would talk to a child. Show him the respect you show me or Davos. And believe that it will take more than just humans fighting wights to prevail. We will need to fight the enemy's magic with magic. Bran needs to reach his potential just as you need to become the warrior that was promised by embracing the magic in your blood. You will have to walk through fire and let it empower you instead of letting it weaken you because you fear it. Stop putting your head in the snow and look at the facts. Your dragons are magical creatures, not just big flying animals. Your warging ability is an asset you will have to exploit to your advantage. You will need to use every magical trick we can conjure up, use every asset at your disposal to defeat a mighty opponent that won't hesitate to throw all his knowledge and magic that he has acquired at us."
  
  "This is too much. I can't concentrate on this just yet. We still have to unite the Seven Kingdoms. I might be fighting a war here in the South first."
  
  "That might be so. But don't neglect your preparations for the Great War you are destined to fight in the meantime, Jon. Prepare for both fights. The Night King is not wasting his time. Don't waste yours either. We will discuss the undead foe in the south another time. I would not want to overburden you."
  
  "Not overburden me." Jon's voice sounded bitter. "What have I ever done to deserve such a burden to be put on my shoulders? And here I had tricked myself into thinking that the Gods were favouring me by granting me such happiness in marriage not to mention how peacefully I have been proclaimed King."
  
  "What has Bran ever done to the Gods? You are not alone in your plight, Jon. Plenty will suffer. Even more will die before or rather if we are to prevail in the end. Everyone will have to play his part however difficult. I need you to stop fighting this and accept the vital role you are destined to play."
  
  "I need to think on all this and I'd prefer to have Davos and Sam present during our next meeting. Davos is my Hand. I do not want to keep him out of the loop. He needs to know, even if it means revealing all our secrets and risking the fact that he won't believe some of it. He can't advise me otherwise. And Sam should hear all this as well. Sam can help me make sense of things. He has a way to digest information and come up with solutions like no one else. I you want me to bend the rules on the oaths I took to protect House Targaryen, you will have to make concessions for Lord Seaworth and Sam."
  
  Howland Reed raised his eyebrow but acquiesced. "Desperate times call for desperate measures?"
  
  "Exactly. Before you leave, can I ask your advice on some minor matters?"
  
  "Of course, your Grace."
  
  "Jon, please Howland. No matter how difficult our discussions or how at odds our opinions may get, Jon will do."
  
  Howland Reed inclined his head. "Ask away then, Jon."
  
  "Do you know whether we can trust Lady Margaery of House Tyrell once she is out Lady Olenna's sphere of influence? And is it a mistake to want to pardon Jaime Lannister?"
  
  "I only have my intuition to go by since I have not been granted visions about these persons. Based on your words, I would give Lannister the benefit of the doubt but would like to know him better before committing myself. I can't see the urgency of wanting to know this. He is needed beyond the Wall for now. Having never met Lady Margaery either, I can't help you there."
  
  "Does that mean that they are not important in the grand scheme of things?"
  
  "I don't know, Jon. Each decision you take may change the future and might cause individuals to become more influential or of less consequence. The Gods show us only bits and pieces anyway. I really can't help you here."
  
  "What about a time table? How long do we have before you need my cousin to travel north? How long before the undead foe coming at us from the South will make his play? How long before the Night King is making his move to destroy us in earnest?"
  
  "It doesn't work that way, Jon. The only thing I can promise is that I will inform you the very moment I learn more."
  
  "Is Bran still in the Godswood?"
  
  "No, he went to the library to join Tarly. He is helping Sam in his search for fire resistant substances. Do you really think that that will help you outlast the Night King when you fight him while you are both burning?"
  
  "You can't prove me otherwise so I need to cover all my bases to improve my chances at survival. That vision has been plaguing me the most. I told you already how during that vision I felt that we were evenly matched and that the one who would prevail would be the one who could withstand the fire the longest. I could feel myself getting weaker. I must find a way to last longer."
  
  "You will have to embrace the magic in your blood. Make sure to talk to Bran about this one of these days. We won't leave until his mother has been here for a few days. But you must help us convince her that Bran needs to leave with me. We need not inform her that we are going further north than Greywater Watch for now. "
  
  Jon nodded. "I will. Can we leave it at this? I need time to come to terms with all that you told me."
  
  "Don't take too much time. Man up, son. Take the right action. I heard you have been pushing yourself to the limit during training. Don't overdo it, Jon. You won't win by fighting the conventional way."
  
  "What do I do then? Trust in the Gods that everything will work itself out? That I will embrace the magic in my blood incidentally at exactly the right time?"
  
  "I didn't say that. But your normal strength, your human body has its limits. Talk to Bran. He can tell you how he opened his mind up and tapped into his hidden abilities. You might not have the exact same magic in your blood but the key to unlocking or embracing your potential might be similar."
  
  "Then I will. Never before have I felt the wish to survive more keenly than now. I have a family to think of. A future I look forward to now more than ever."
  
  Two firm knocks gave Jon the excuse to rise. "Let's table this discussion for now. As I said, I need to time to process what you've told me."
  
  "Of course, Jon." Howland stood as well.
  
  "Enter," Jon called out and the head of Ser Gerold appeared. "Can you join us in the Great Hall, your Grace? Lord Renly of House Baratheon, Lord Manderly with a rather large retinue, Lord Edric of House Dayne, Lady Brienne of Tarth and Lord Loras of House Tyrell have arrived. They are keen to greet you and make their pledge."
  
  "And Stokeworth? Has he not been allowed entrance?"
  
  His Lord Commander quickly recovered from his oversight. "Ah yes, forgive me, your Grace. Lord Stokeworth accompanies them as well. I don't know how I forgot to mention him. The man is as tall as Clegane. Stokeworth was most eager to see you again."
  
  "Thanks, Ser Gerold. Has Ser Barristan been alerted to bring the Queen to the throne room?"
  
  "Ser Barristan has taken ill. Ser Jorah is escorting the Queen assisted by two of my most promising apprentices. She will arrive before you do if we stand here debating much longer. I already sent Renny to fetch your coat and crown."
  
  Howland Reed walked towards the door. "We will continue our discussion another time, your Grace. Just think on what we discussed so we can move forward the next time we speak."
  
  Davos sat opposite Jon, the large desk separating the two men. When the young man kept silent, Davos coughed. "All in all things are going well. Stokeworth seems like a decent man. I'm glad he is visiting his kin first and not making any rash decisions. Perhaps the man can find a good wife instead of swearing another variation of a vow of chastity to become a member of your Kingsguard. Lord Renly of House Baratheon has agreed to an audience in a few days' time. He wants to apprise himself of the situation before talking to you and will seek out the nobles of the Stormlands that are present in King's Landing first." Davos fell silent. When he could no longer stand to look at the brooding face of the young King before him his eyes fell on Ghost. The wolf was fast asleep in a corner of the room. Davos' eyes quickly wandered back to his young King when Jon finally met his gaze.
  
  "I am sorry. You are right of course. Things are going well. I am relieved that we are finally making headway with House Tyrell."
  
  Lord Willas of HouseTyrell had finally come to them this morning to hand over the signed the document containing all the terms they had drafted after several intense negotiation sessions. Many ravens had flown between their new castellan in Highgarden and a few major bannermen before the deal had been finalised. Willas Tyrell would take up residence in King's Landing. His wedding to Lady Myrcella of House Lannister, the newly appointed Lady-in-Waiting of Queen Daenerys would take place in the Grand Sept of Baelor in two days' time. A sennight ago, that date had been set to allow Loras Tyrell to attend his brother's wedding. Lord Mace of House Tyrell had promised to return south to rule Highgarden taking his mother the Lady Olenna with him at the latest a sennight after the wedding. The Queen of Thorns would not be given a choice in the matter. The larger part of the document contained the trade agreements between the Reach and the Seven Kingdoms for the next ten years with fixed prices and clearly defined percentages of their yield that the Reach were contracted to ship to several of the Seven Kingdoms each moon.
  
  Jon had made it very clear to Willas Tyrell that if it reached his ears that Lady Olenna spoke one word out of line or tried any kind of sabotage, the King and his small council promised to go to any lengths necessary to gather enough evidence against the Queen of Thorns to imprison her for high treason. Willas Tyrell had stopped protesting after they had revealed some of her 'unproven' schemes along with the promise that as long as his grandmother behaved, they would keep silent and nobody else needed to be told.
  
  Jon absently gazed past Davos and continued in a flat tone. "We got them to concede on all matters with only the vague promise of a seat on the small council for Willas and the possibility of Margaery becoming a Lady-in-Waiting with the codicil that she may be released from that position at any time after her marriage if she so wishes."
  
  "Do not forget that they only signed off after you promised them in good faith to do all you could to find her a suitable husband. This is cause for celebration, Jon. Why are you brooding?" Jon heard the mild frustration in Davos' tone.
  
  "I just worry about Lady Margaery residing in the Red Keep and being allowed close to Dany."
  
  "Yeah, and that was the reason for the Queen's dejected mood as well this morning?" Davos' tone indicated that he didn't believe a word of what Jon had uttered.
  
  Jon frowned when he returned Davos' critical stare. "Davos," he warned his Hand not to pry.
  
  "It will help if you tell me, son. I knew something had been bothering you well before the meeting with Willas Tyrell started. Everybody noticed that the Queen was not looking her best at breakfast. You two barely looked at one another. Did you quarrel?"
  
  "I'd rather not talk about it. It is personal." Jon pursed his lips even though Davos' fatherly demeanour had touched something inside of him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Ghost had awoken and was scrutinizing him.
  
  "Your mood will only get worse if you keep it all inside you, son. I know you too well. Besides, as your Hand, I have to admonish you. You didn't pull your weight in this meeting. I will always have your back in front of others and nothing will come of it but know that the young Tyrell looked at you strangely a few times." When Jon stubbornly remained silent Davos sighed and stood up. "This doesn't mean that I give up. It is just a tactical retreat. I'll send someone in here with food. At least do me the favour of eating some of it. You barely consumed half a bannock this morning."
  
  Jon stared vacantly at the spot where his Hand had been seated and tried not to feel deserted by how quickly Davos had conceded defeat. He flinched when he heard the door close and noticed that Ghost had abandoned him as well. He sighed and moved his head sideways so he could stare out of the window and study the cloud movements. Unaware of how much time had passed, he vaguely registered the door opening and a plate of food being put in front of him. Still studying the changing shapes of the clouds, he wondered whether Dany would meet him later that afternoon to visit the dragons or if she would claim to be unwell and use that excuse to avoid him for a while longer. He startled when he heard a soft scraping noise. When he turned away from the window, he noticed that the plate filled with cold meat and bread had shifted closer to him. Jon looked up and stared straight into the blue eyes of his uncle Benjen. The man sat in front of him and must have closed the door without Jon noticing.
  
  "Uncle? What are you doing here?"
  
  "What does it look like? I brought you some food." His uncle kept his tone light but Jon could see the worry etched on his face.
  
  "Davos sent you." Jon hadn't meant to make the words sound so resigned. A part of him was relieved. He should have known that Davos would not let him off the hook that easily. If Jon hadn't been so out of it, he might have guessed that Davos would revert to this tactic. He had done it before. Jon remembered how a while ago, Davos had confessed that he had sent Robb to him each time he had discovered a twelve year old Jon brooding at Winterfell shortly after he had learned who is parents truly were.
  
  "Davos cares about you and is worried. So am I. This is not some great conspiracy against you, Jon. We only want to help."
  
  The soft tone of his uncle almost got through Jon's defenses and he used the first argument that crossed his mind before he was tempted to give in. "And why should I talk to you when you do not confide in me?" Once again Jon was not totally in control of his tone and the words came out sharper than he had intended. He instantly felt bad when he saw his uncle startle. "I am sorry, Uncle." He apologised immediately. "I merely wanted to point out that if things between you and Lady Ashara of House Dayne are personal and I should respect that, then you should respect that Dany and I share the same need for privacy."
  
  "You got me there. But still, is there no way that I can help? Ours is a different situation altogether. You two are married. I could never court Lady Ashara, even if I wanted to."
  
  "Even if you have a thing for her?" Jon probed. His uncle looked up and Jon saw his struggle to decide how much he would reveal. He pressed on. "Just admit it, Uncle. I didn't see it at first even though the signs were there from the beginning. But thinking back, you fell for here the moment you two met here in King's Landing, did you not?"
  
  To Jon's surprise, his uncle met his challenge head on. "I fell for her when I was fourteen namedays old back at Harrenhal. Even if it was merely a young boy's crush back then and a hopeless one at that, somehow I never forgot her. So yeah, I fell for her when I saw her again here. Happy now?"
  
  Jon exhaled. He had finally gotten his uncle to admit it out loud. Dany had told him that she suspected those two harboured feelings for each other. Dany was sure of Lady Ashara's fondness for Benjen Stark even if the Lady refused to discuss the topic at every turn. "If you admit it, then why don't you do something about it? I distinctly recall you telling me once that if you ever happened to fall in love, you would marry the woman never mind whether she was highborn or lowborn. Dany is sure that Lady Ashara..." He couldn't finish his sentence. His uncle wouldn't let him.
  
  "Don't say it, Jon. It will only make it more difficult to endure. It cannot be. I told you before. Things are more complicated than you realise."
  
  "Then uncomplicate things." Jon was not in a mood to mince his words. If anything he wanted this conversation to be over. He wanted his uncle to leave.
  
  Benjen shook his head. "I came here to help you. Not to burden you with my problems."
  
  "Then I make you the same offer I made before. I will tell you in confidence what is bothering me if you explain to me why you can't offer for her." Jon held his breath. This would silence his uncle. When no response came he studied Benjen Stark carefully. It seemed that his uncle was really debating whether he should take Jon up on his offer. He observed Uncle Benjen open his mouth only to close it again. Jon was perplexed. This was uncharted territory. He could truthfully say that he no longer had a clue as to how his uncle would respond. Neither did he know what he himself wanted to happen right here, right now. On the one hand he really wished to know what was going on between Lady Ashara and his uncles so that they could resolve the tension and the apparent heart ache of the persons involved. On the other hand, if his uncle caved and told him, Jon would have to reveal what had happened last night between him and Dany. He didn't know if he could do that. Hells, he didn't know how Dany would react if she learned that he had told his uncle. It was a damned mess.
  
  "Jon?"
  
  His uncle's voice shook him out of his musings. "Sit beside me, please. With that desk between us it feels as if we are adversaries instead of uh instead of two people who are very close and want to help one another."
  
  His uncle was right. Hiding behind the desk was not the way to go about this. He rose and walked to the empty chair next to his uncle. His uncle gave the untouched plate of food a wan smile but kept silent. Both men avoided looking at each other.
  
  "I don't really want to talk about Dany," Jon said a bit forlorn, breaking the stalemate. He kept his gaze fixed on his lap.
  
  "And I don't really want to talk about my issue with Lady Ashara either." Benjen Stark stated softly.
  
  "Then we are agreed? We keep our own council. No hard feelings?" Jon swallowed. He should feel relieved but strangely enough he didn't. For the first time since this morning his resolve really wavered. He furtively glimpsed at his uncle and saw a flicker pass over the man's face.
  
  "No hard feelings." His uncle confirmed. "I would have preferred to have been allowed to lighten your burden somewhat. Can you at least reassure me that Daenerys is not sick?" His uncle lifted his head now, his eyes searching his nephew's face.
  
  Jon met his gaze while he tried to answer the question. "No, at least, I think not. I didn't... I should have insisted more." He felt the blood leave his face and could have flayed himself. They had said so many things to each other but he had not probed further when she had flat out refused to say anything more than that she would be all right when he had asked her that same question. He really should have insisted further. He had been told that women sometimes felt ill for a few days and that it could greatly affect their mood. He was such a moron. Instead of helping her through it, he had been short tempered, too caught up in his own struggles. He should have weighed his words more carefully.
  
  "Jon?" His uncle touched his shoulder. "Hey, come back to me. It can't be that bad. You two love each other. You will be all right."
  
  Jon nodded his head miserably. "Don't tell anyone?"
  
  "Of course not." His uncle was quick to respond but Jon didn't doubt that his uncle meant it. His resolve weakened further. Perhaps it would help if he talked about it. Less than half a day of keeping silent had only worsened his mood and the mere mention of food made his stomach churn. He took a deep breath. Perhaps he could keep it vague.
  
  "We quarrelled yesterday." He darted a look at his uncle who nodded encouragingly. "She uh she was crying when I joined her in our bedroom yesterday after supper. You see, her moonblood had come. Apparently that had happened a sennight later than expected." Jon looked at his uncle to check if he grasped the meaning behind these words. "You understand? She had her hopes up."
  
  His uncle nodded again but kept silent. Jon swallowed. "She misunderstood my reaction. Of course I was as disappointed as her but I hid my feelings because I did not want to increase her burden. I merely wanted to comfort her when I told her not to worry, that it was perhaps for the best this way. I added that it might be unwise to start a family when things were still so unsure politically speaking. That I still had to leave somewhere in the future to fight a dangerous opponent in the North. I even suggested that she should perhaps consider taking moon tea for the first few moons. That we were both still so young and had ample time to start a large family."
  
  "Oh, Jon." His uncle shook his head.
  
  "Yeah, I see that now. She got emotional She accused me of using her body to satisfy my baser urges. And that I just pretended to be better than other men but that in the end I had proven to her that I was just the same or worse since I was a hypocrite pretending to be more than I was. I tried to convince her of the opposite but I don't know whether she could still hear me. She didn't stop crying until she fell asleep in my arms. And then this morning when we woke, she coldly told me that she preferred to sleep alone for as long as her moonblood lasted. She begged me to leave her be till then." Jon looked at his uncle in desperation. "I don't want to do that, Uncle. I need her presence. Even if we can't be intimate for a few days in that manner, I still need to hold her at night. But more importantly, I can't be at odds with her for much longer. I can't stand feeling like this for the next few days. I can't concentrate. Davos had to cover for me this morning. I barely could get the proper courtesies out when we met with Lord Willas of House Tyrell."
  
  His uncle studied him for a moment and then righted himself. "Where is she now, Jon?" His voice had gained momentum and some urgency.
  
  Jon however did not share the same sense of purpose. He hung his head "I don't know. Oh, she was supposed to assist Sam with the books. We are still taking turns since we have yet to appoint a Master of Coin. If not there, then she might have returned to bed. She did look very pale and complained of a head ache when I asked whether she felt better when we broke our fast."
  
  "I may not be good with women but one thing I do know. They do not always express what they want literally. If she asked you to stay away, chances are that she might have wished for you to protest, to to fight harder for her. She might have wished you to convince her that you really, truly wanted to stay with her. Is Ghost with her now?"
  
  Jon faltered. "Of course." Most likely his wolf had gone to check on Dany. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them his uncle was quick to speak up.
  
  "Go find her, Jon. Tell her what you really felt yesterday and explain why you said what you did then. She'll understand."
  
  Jon deliberated for a short moment. Then he jumped up. "Thank you, Uncle. Would you be willing to find Davos and tell him just enough to placate him? Ask him to represent me in our next meeting or have him delay it until I send word that I can attend? "
  
  "Count on me." Benjen Stark rose slowly out of his chair as well.
  
  "And Uncle," Jon had already reached the doorway. "We will continue this talk later. You still have to hold up your end of the bargain." He turned away and hurried to their quarters in the hope of finding Dany there. He didn't slow down when he heard Ser Oswell and a younger guard run after him.
  
  That evening Dany and Jon reappeared at supper and it was not only Davos that sighed with relief. Davos had stood in for Jon for the remainder of that day. The only one who had voiced his disappointment openly to miss speaking to his King personally was Lord Tyrion of House Lannister. Davos rather liked the short man. It was rather strange that his young King was still on the fence in regard to the appointment of Tyrion Lannister as Master of Coin.
  
  Davos greeted the younger couple with a nod and a smile. The Queen looked happy even though she still had dark circles under her eyes. His young King constantly had one hand under the table and awkwardly attempted to eat with his left hand until Daenerys discreetly chastised him when he dropped his spoon and bits of red soup stained both their clothes. Jon just grinned apologetically and tried to wipe the few droplets that had stained her skirt only to leave a bigger mess. It was obvious to everyone present that all was well again between the royal couple.
  
  Davos knew part of what had happened from Benjen of course but he had also been informed that there was another reason for the absolute reversal of the Queen's mood. Varys had whispered a most astounding report to him right before they had entered the private dining room. "Queen Daenerys has made a short trip on Viserion this afternoon." He couldn't wait for Jon to tell him all about that. He doubted that it would be tonight though. He scanned the rest of the table. Eddard Stark was notably absent. Davos knew that there were some concerns with his good-family in the Riverlands. Lord Stark had warned Davos this afternoon that it might well be that when his wife and daughters arrived in King's Landing, they would need to travel to the Riverlands shortly after. Davos needed to discuss this with his King as soon as possible. He knew Jon and Dany had counted on Lady Sansa to stay in the Red Keep. Perhaps Jon could convince his uncle to let both girls remain in the capital.
  
  Lord Royce and Sam were deep in conversation. To placate Lord Tyrion of House Lannister for the missed audience, Davos had asked him to attend the rather informal supper this evening and bring Lord Willas Tyrell and his bride along. These three were seated close together and Myrcella was discussing the sights of Dorne with Lady Ashara.
  
  That was another person that Davos liked rather well. Lady Ashara went about the Keep quietly and one would overlook her often if one was not careful. Davos had soon found out that that was only because everything ran smoothly when she had her hand in things and one tends to overlook the things that are going well to focus on the things that do not. Jon had informed him of her official appointment as the 'leading' Lady-in-Waiting. Tonight however Lady Ashara looked troubled. Perhaps he needed to have a word with her as well. He had never tested the famed Davos-magic on Lady Ashara before.
  
  Benjen Stark was also rather quiet this evening but then again he often was. He was Davos' staunchest ally when it came to looking after their King. He noticed the Stark Prince whispering something in his nephew's ear that made both men smile. Davos had done the right thing this morning. It had not taken all that long for Benjen Stark to come find him in turn and inform him that the King and Queen were probably in the process of making up. Benjen had told him in confidence what lay at the heart of the matter and Davos had been relieved that it had all been a misunderstanding. Not that he had really believed otherwise but still, it was nice to see with his own eyes that things had been resolved.
  
  Perhaps he could have prevented this. He should have spoken to Jon about these matters. He and his wife had needed more than twelve moons for her to conceive the first time. However, after the birth of his eldest son, things had gotten a lot easier. He had often joked that he only needed to look at Marya for her to become pregnant. And the only reason that they did not have even more children was because he was often absent for long periods of time. He had been lucky with his choice of wife. By now most of his sons were grown and had found their own way in life. The younger ones were currently being fostered with a sea captain, a youth friend of his and they wrote him faithfully once every two moons. Marya however had died shortly after giving birth to his youngest when she caught a fever. He better not mention that fact to Jon.
  
  He often forgot how young his King still was and how shielded his upbringing had been. Perhaps he should tell him more about his own experiences, even if it still pained him when he permitted himself to dwell on the years that he had been married. Only after she had died had he realised how often he had been away from home and how little time he had actually spent with his wife. She had always encouraged him to travel and pursue his own dreams. He should have made more of an effort. She had always been so willing to put her own wishes aside when they conflicted with his plans or those of his sons. He had made mistakes but had learned from them. Perhaps he could prevent his King from making some of them. For now though, all was well between the royal couple and he could relax. He turned to his left and started a conversation with Benjen Stark. His spirit lifted considerably when Jon immediately joined in. The King's good mood worked wonders on his quiet uncle as well. When a bit later Benjen Stark told one of his better Frey jokes, all present laughed heartily. For the rest of the meal everyone joined the main conversation and they spent a pleasant evening together.
  
  Myrcella and Willas were the first to leave the table uttering the wish to take a stroll outside. Sam wanted to show Davos something in the library and Lady Ashara and Queen Daenerys excused themselves as well but not after Daenerys had given the King a soft kiss on his cheeks and he had smiled and whispered something in her ear. Before Davos left the room, he noticed that Lord Royce persuaded Benjen Stark to join him at his side of the table were had set up his cyvasse set and that Lord Tyrion made an attempt to engage his King in a quasi-private conversation. Ghost had pushed the Queen's empty chair out of the way and Jon was absently petting the wolf's head that lay in his lap. Davos smiled and wondered what excuse Jon would come up with for missing Lannister's audience that afternoon.
  
  Since arriving in King's Landing, Tyrion had kept himself busy with planning the wedding. He had opened the large villa that the Lannisters owned in King's Landing and made all the arrangements for a wedding feast befitting the status of the bride and the groom. Mace Tyrell had agreed to pay his half but Tyrion with the assistance of his future good-son had made all the arrangements.
  
  He knew it had been an ambitious plans but he had hoped to get more opportunities to interact with the young Targaryen once they resided in the capital. The letters they had exchanged had been cordial. The King bore House Lannister no grudge. Their house arrest had been lifted and Tyrion had secretly hoped that Eddard Stark would recommend him for the position of Master of Coin. He had helped out Samwell Tarly a few times when the young man had confessed having trouble deciphering the more complex trade agreements in order to double check whether all the taxes had been duly received. But up until now King Aegon had hardly cast a glance his way. He understood that the King was newlywed and wouldn't make time for a game of cyvasse anytime soon but they were in dire need of a Master of Coin. This afternoon he had surmised by a vague comment of Lord Seaworth that the Hand looked favourably on the appointment. If the King didn't, then why had he not appointed somebody else already? It was all rather vexing.
  
  The only time he had gotten close to the King without his Hand present had been after a large banquet and at the time he had already been somewhat in his cups. He had not been able to contribute much and had let the young man steer the conversation. If he had known that opportunities would come so far and in between... Now he made it a point to drink very little if he happened to attend the same social function as King Aegon. There was one social occasion coming up that he could steer to his own satisfaction. He would seat the King next to him when his Grace attended Myrcella's wedding. King Aegon would be the guest of honour so it was only right to give him a seat next to the host. Until then he would stay alert and attempt to find other ways to befriend his new sovereign.
  
  Tyrion couldn't believe his luck. All of a sudden he and King Aegon found themselves abandoned at their part of the table. He lifted his cup in a silent toast. The young King smiled and adjusted his seat so they sat opposite each other.
  
  "Lord Tyrion, how are you faring in the capital?"
  
  "The wedding preparations have kept me busy, your Grace. You see before you a happy dwarf. I look forward to giving my niece away to the man of her choice who is one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  Jon nodded. "And a kind man who cares for her in return."
  
  "Indeed. I can't thank your Grace enough."
  
  "And I accept your thanks, Lord Tyrion, on the condition that this is the last time I hear you utter them out loud to me." Jon smiled and raised his cup of wine. "To the bride and groom. May they live happily together and stay healthy."
  
  "Hear, hear." Tyrion answered the toast and took a small sip. He would not waste this serendipitous opportunity by getting drunk.
  
  "I understand you have many demands upon your time, your Grace. But I wondered if we could reschedule my audience."
  
  "Did my Hand not offer you satisfying terms for the trade deals and explain the reason for the altered taxes?"
  
  "He did, your Grace. But he couldn't answer my question in regard to the open position on your small council." He looked around to make sure that the few that were left in the room were not paying them any attention. "A topic I would prefer to discuss with you behind closed doors. I also missed the opportunity to get better acquainted with my new sovereign. I had hoped to continue our uh budding relationship?"
  
  Jon nodded thoughtfully. "I apologise for not attending today. Some uh family matter came up that I deemed more urgent than our meeting. I am sorry. I'll confer with Davos and promise to set up a new appointment. As to getting to know each other better, we are talking now aren't we?"
  
  Tyrion smiled. "I like your straightforwardness, your Grace. Your letters already showed that tendency. I am glad to see it confirmed. Since we are talking, can I be so bold as to ask how it feels to ride a dragon? Ever since I learned my letters and read the stories of your ancestors I have been dying of curiosity."
  
  Jon smiled and indulged Tyrion. He started to describe how he felt the day his dragons hatched and without revealing too much of his special bond with Rhaegal and Viserion, he spun an enchanting tale and had the dwarf leaning over soaking in every word.
  
  "I envy you, your Grace. And I thank you for sharing all this with me even if I am aware that you are not revealing all. I heard that you have absolute control of your dragons and we need not fear for our safety. I observed with my own eyes how your direwolf obeys you instantly. I have heard he does this, even without visible gesture or spoken word from you at times. I have read however about the Kings of Winter and their magical connection to their direwolves. I distinctly recall stories of how some of them rode their direwolves into battle. However, nowhere in the history books have I found mention of such a bond between a Targaryen and his dragon. Mostly the books speak of how your Valyrian ancestors had trouble reigning in their dragons' behaviour." He stopped when he saw the young man start to frown. "Don't worry, your Grace, I'll not discuss my theories with anyone. But be warned that I am convinced that there is more to you than you let on. I will keep my eyes and ears open. You'll soon find that I love to solve puzzles and am quite good at it."
  
  "Then I praise your straightforwardness as well, Lord Lannister. If you keep that promise you just made then I am sure we will get on well in the future. Have you by chance met my friend, Lord Samwell of House Tarly? I think you might find him to be a fellow analytical mind and I wager he will be able to outsmart you at times."
  
  "I met young Tarly before but will make an effort to get to know him better now that he comes so highly recommended."
  
  "And I look forward to our future conversations, Lord Tyrion. Expect to receive a summons for another private audience soon. Now it is high time that I join my wife. She will be expecting me."
  
  Tyrion held in the bad pun that was on the tip of his tongue and just nodded and wished the young King a good night's rest without any hint of teasing or sarcasm.
  
  The next morning Jon cut his sword fighting session with Ser Arthur in half to check in on the training of the new recruits. When they arrived in the large sparring yard, Loras and Brienne were each taking on a candidate and were close to beating them. When Jon met Ser Gerold's gaze he smiled and raised his eyebrow in a silent 'I told you so.' Ser Gerold nodded his head and then broke up the fight and sent two other recruits to engage the new arrivals. Before they could start, Jon stepped forward. "I still need to complete my training for this morning. Who is willing to take me on?"
  
  Loras immediately stepped forward. "It has been too long, my King."
  
  Ser Gerold intervened. "Your Grace. I would like to give everyone present this unique opportunity. I propose we change your sparring partner each time you find an opening and get one strike in."
  
  Jon nodded his assent and took his starting position. He smiled at Loras and waited for Ser Gerold to signal the start. He made sure to give Loras the opportunity to show off his skill before he really started to look for an opening. Loras had changed his style a little bit. It was less ostentatious and more to the point. He noticed several moves that he recognised as Lady Brienne's. "So you sparred with Lady Brienne during your travels?"
  
  "Every opportunity we found, your Grace." Loras kept his focus on Jon's sword. "You look as fit as ever, if I have your permission to say so."
  
  'You know me." Jon smiled and shifted sideways to avoid being hit. He picked up the speed of his strokes and soon after had Loras backed in a corner and ended the bout.
  
  Loras bowed and made room for Lady Brienne. It was not difficult to make sure that the fight lasted at least the same amount of time as his bout with Loras. Lady Brienne was a formidable opponent. Jon decided to change tactics and put more strength behind his thrusts. Lady Brienne did not disappoint and grasped every opportunity to switch to offense. Eventually he found his opening when he was able to duck under a big swing of hers in the nick of time and madeke her yield when he touched her armpit with the blunted tip of his sword.
  
  After taking a brief pause, he sparred with twenty new recruits. He had to admit that most of them showed real potential and he made it a point not to humiliate them by defeating them in ten strikes or less. He also made good on his promise to Sam and challenged Lord Dickon of House Tarly to try his luck when he spotted the man watching proceedings inconspicuously in a corner. Young Tarly fought well but the variety of his strikes was rather limited. Jon kept silent but planned to ask Ser Gerold later to teach the young man some new combinations.
  
  Ser Arthur handed him a cup of water when Jon decided he had taken enough exercise for the day. All the men kept their distance, too awed to approach the King. Lady Brienne however made her way over and convinced Loras to come along.
  
  "Looking forward to the knighting ceremony tomorrow?" Jon opened the conversation.
  
  "I won't be able to sleep." Lady Brienne's smile transformed her entire face. "Loras will be Ser Loras when he attends his brother's wedding. We will both be wearing our new cloaks."
  
  "You will be respectively the first Lady and the first Lord that I knight. I better go rehearse my lines. Congratulations to you both. And thanks for proving me right. Ser Gerold can no longer claim that you are being appointed just because you had the advantage of befriending the King. You are the better candidates by far. Now I must go. I have indulged myself long enough. Duty calls."
  
  The days blurred by. To Jon it seemed that there was not enough daylight to do all he needed to handle. It would have been worse if he had not been able to share the things he kept from his small council with Davos, Dany and sometimes Uncle Benjen. The decisions he took in his secret meetings with Prince Oberyn and Lord Varys weighed him down. Several times, Dany needed to coax him to bed before he fell asleep in his study where he was reading or scribbling messages by candlelight.
  
  He had hardly managed to spend an evening with Edric, Loras and Sam before Edric left for Starfall. If his mother hadn't fallen ill, Edric would perhaps not have heeded the umpteenth letter asking him to come home, certainly not with Sansa arriving in a few days' time. Anyway, it seemed as if their plans to all get together again would not come to fruition any time soon. Gendry would only arrive after Edric had left and it would be moons before Robb could come south. Perhaps it was for the best now anyway. Jon barely had a minute to talk to Sam let alone spent many an evening carefree with his friends as they had done during his rite of passage voyage. It seemed as if all that had happened a lifetime instead of seven moons ago.
  
  At least the Court sessions and private audiences had become shorter and less frequent. The wedding feast of Lord Willas and Lady Myrcella hosted in the Lannister villa had been an elaborate affair even if the guest list had been a fair amount smaller than the one at the royal wedding. The young couple had been given quarters in a remote wing of the Red Keep. Ser Loras, as he now should be called, had joined his Kingsguard and performed his new duties impeccably. Not even Ser Gerold had been able to find fault yet. If Loras happened to wink at his King while on duty, he was savvy enough not to get caught by Ser Gerold.
  
  Ser Brienne had surprised them all by choosing to serve in the Dragonguard under Ser Barristan. Ser Gerold had applauded that decision. Not only was his dream of restoring the order of the White Cloaks to their former glory on par with his own traditional vision back on track, he was also spared the logistical nightmare of having a female live with them in the White Tower. He was no longer obliged to change the accommodations of their dedicated building the Gods knew how to safeguard her female sensibilities. When he had found an opportunity to speak to her in private, shortly after her knighting, Jon had praised her for her choice and had expressed how convenient her decision actually was. It would greatly help the Queen to have a female guard with her during certain delicate female related situations.
  
  Ser Brienne had revealed her motives to him in a blunt, honest way that hat reminded Jon of Sandor Clegane. She had stated that she had overheard a few rumours and knew some of the reasoning behind Ser Gerold's reticence. After giving the matter some thought she had come to the conclusion that her ambitions had more of a chance to become reality if she chose the Dragonguard who were sworn to guard the Queen and her offspring. She had had concluded that she had a better chance of becoming Commander of the Dragonguard than of the Kingsguard.
  
  Ser Barristan had perhaps been the most pleased of all. Ser Brienne was not shy at all and had volunteered to help him with some of his administrative duties while he was still ill. She got on well with Ser Jorah and accepted every assignment however minor as if it was the greatest honour. She was the first to volunteer to help train the weaker recruits that Ser Gerold had all but given up on. She had instantly noticed that the Lord Commander had already started to neglect a certain group and had figured correctly that he had as good as decided to dismiss them after their training program was finished. Unless by some miracle they proved him wrong before that time came. It only took her a day to get these men to look past the fact that she was a female and get them to adopt a few of her moves. Ser Gerold was honour bound to admit that her fresh approach motivated the men that he had already written off. From that day onward, Ser Gerold made an effort to lose his prejudice against female warriors and made sure that each of his recruits got another chance to prove his worth.
  
  As a consequence, less than a sennight later, Ser Gerold could shorten his list of failing recruits substantially and redoubled his efforts with the ones that were still lagging behind. When his King announced that he was satisfied with his Lord Commander's latest progress report, Ser Gerold was honest enough to give Ser Brienne part of the credit. He had surprised himself as much as King Aegon. Ser Gerold was slowly adjusting his rigid rules to the realities of this new era.
  
  All of them were slowly but surely adapting to their new roles. Jon had two squires to assist him even if he delegated their training to other men. Dany had appointed five Ladies-in-Waiting. It had been officially announced before the Court that Lady Ashara of House Dayne, Lady Roslin of House Frey, Lady Shireen of House Baratheon, Lady Ilsa of House Ruthermont and Lady Myrcella newly of House Tyrell had taken up the position. As soon as his Stark cousins arrived, Sansa would be asked to join this group. The last vacancy might be filled by Lady Margaery. Much to Jon's concern, Dany was still entertaining the possibility.
  
  Jon was standing before the floor mirror in his room to check whether everything was fastened correctly by his squires. He fondly remembered the mornings of their short honeymoon when it was Dany who had assisted him with his buttons and laces. Dressing had been much more fun back then, even if it had taken them longer. Sometimes they had reversed the process entirely and had delayed leaving their bedroom for a substantial amount of time yet again. His musings were interrupted when he heard two heavy knocks. At Jon's gesture, Renny ran to the door and opened it. Ser Loras' head appeared. Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn ask a moment of your time, your Grace." One look at Loras' expression was enough for Jon to understand that his visitors had not been deterred by the Kingsguard's warning that the King was headed for the beach in mere moments.
  
  "I gather it is urgent?" Jon asked just to be sure.
  
  "Urgent and private." Loras' eye fell on his two squires.
  
  "Renny, Monty, please alert the Queen that I will be a bit late. Inform her of my visitors if she asks. As soon as she is ready, she may join us in here if she is willing. If not, tell her that I promise to pick her up when my business is concluded. You will remain in the hallway until I summon you. Best have your answer ready by then so you can inform me whether you will join the Queen and me on our outing to the beach."
  
  "Yes, your Grace." Once more they perfectly timed their answers so it coincided.
  
  Jon watched how the young boys allowed Prince Oberyn and Lord Varys to enter first before exiting the room. His attention rested on the grave expression of Lord Varys. Prince Oberyn's face was blank.
  
  As soon as both men ended their bow, he gestured toward two chairs but both men kept standing. "Prince Oberyn, Lord Varys, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
  
  "Your Grace, thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice. We have come bearing grave news." Varys' sing-song voice sounded flat for once.
  
  "Then don't keep me in suspense. What happened?" Jon would never get used to all the courtesies that they all needed to get out of the way before coming to the point.
  
  "House Tyrell is in mourning. Lady Olenna passed away shortly after noon." Even though Lord Varys kept his hands concealed in his long sleeves, the small ripples in the soft cloth betrayed the nervous movements they made.
  
  He narrowed his eyes and looked at Oberyn when he asked for clarification. "Died how precisely?"
  
  "She choked on a chicken bone apparently." The Dornish Prince was quick to clarify.
  
  "Oberyn, we have an understanding you and me. Since I have no knowledge of any schemes involving Olenna Tyrell, I hope that the answer to my next question will be to my satisfaction. That said, I want you to speak the truth no matter what. I will believe the next words that come out of your mouth, so please do not shame my trust in you. The fact that she choked, it was not caused by - how shall I formulate this - by some substance that caused her throat to tighten?"
  
  "No, Aegon. I swear it upon the heads of all of my children. I had nothing to do with her demise." The Prince held his gaze calmly.
  
  Jon relaxed and nodded. "I am relieved to hear this and I apologize for doubting you, my friend."
  
  Prince Oberyn gave a small nod in return. "I accept your apologies, Aegon. I understand that you had to ask. That was the sole reason I asked Lord Varys to allow me to join him when he broke the news to you."
  
  Jon turned to Varys. "What else can you tell me about this?"
  
  "Aegon?" Daenerys' silver white head appeared in the doorway. "Renny told me I could come in?"
  
  "Please do, Danny." He waited till she closed the door before continuing. "Lord Varys just brought us the new of Lady Olenna's passing. House Tyrell is in mourning."
  
  "Your Grace, you look lovely this morning." Prince Oberyn kissed Daenerys' small hand.
  
  "I concur, your Grace." Varys bowed deeply.
  
  "Lady Olenna died? How?" Dany looked at Jon.
  
  "They were just about to inform me of the exact circumstances."
  
  Lord Varys coughed. "According to my sources, Lady Olenna of House Tyrell was partaking her last lunch in the villa where house Tyrell resides when not being giving quarters in the Red Keep. Everything was set to convey her back to Highgarden tomorrow morning. Mid-meal, she confronted her son about having all her orders delayed until they could be ratified by him or her good-daughter. When her son confirmed to her that it would be like this in future and she would also not be allowed to send or receive messages without having the contents checked, she flew into a rage and bit of a piece of chicken rather aggressively. When she inhaled deeply to start her next tirade, the food got stuck in her windpipe and before anyone knew what happened, she turned red then blue. Her eyes bulged and she collapsed. She never regained consciousness."
  
  "So it was an unfortunate accident?" Dany asked.
  
  "It was an accident." Jon reassured her. "It was not of our doing. I swear."
  
  "Then we must send our condolences to House Tyrell. Send a messenger and tell them the Queen is willing to attend the funeral service if they intend to hold one here in King's Landing."
  
  Jon nodded and looked at Varys. "Lady Margaery is of course excused for dinner tonight and all the court obligations she was expected to attend to for as long as she needs. Alert Ser Gerold as well and as soon as he is here, send Loras in. I want to break the news to him myself. Ser Gerold will have to adjust his rotating schedule a little. Loras will need to pay his respects to his family today and will need to be given leave to attend the burial ceremony. Let me know as soon as a time for the ceremony has been set and inform the rest of the small council as well."
  
  "I'll see to it all, my King." Lord Varys bowed.
  
  "Thank you both for informing me. Would you send my squires in on your way out, please?" Jon asked and took Dany's hand. "I want to introduce the boys to the dragons today. Do you mind?"
  
  "Of course not. Though if you bring them, you will have to behave, no kisses nor stolen touches." She gave him a quick peck on his lips and Jon smiled when he saw Renny and Monty blush as they entered the room and caught him kissing the Queen.
  
  The morning before Aunt Catelyn and her daughters were set to arrive, Jon was walking swiftly to his quarters to change his attire for a private audience with Lord Tyrion when he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
  
  Ser Arthur was just in time to hold Rosby back. Rayford Rosby was one of the apprentices first in line to join the White Cloaks and Ser Gerold assigned him regularly to help guard the King. If not for Ser Arthur's timely intervention, the man would have stumbled into his King when Jon faltered a few steps before they reached the door of his bedroom where the King planned to freshen up after a gruelling morning training session.
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Arthur asked when Jon closed his eyes and did not move.
  
  "Something is wrong, Ser Arthur. Please step inside for a moment?"
  
  Ser Arthur gestured for Rosby to take up watch outside and quickly shut the door after them.
  
  "I need to warg into Ghost. Something happened." Jon announced with great urgency and sat down on the floor where he stood and closed his eyes. He immediately felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and a feeling of fierce protectiveness mixed with guilt. He looked through red eyes and saw a body lying on the ground, no two, three bodies. Then he saw her and sighed with relief. Dany was alive. She was crying and not heeding a few Gold Cloaks who were attempting to get her to leave the scene to bring her to safety.
  
  Jon released the connection and jumped to his feet. "There has been an attack on the Queen near the West Gate. I believe she is unharmed. Take me there and call for reinforcements. A Maester too although I fear it might be too late." Jon was already opening the door.
  
  "Ser Barristan?" Ser Arthur asked when they entered the hallway.
  
  Jon whispered not wanting to let Rosby overhear that he knew more than he should. Only his closest entourage knew the extent of his connection to his direwolf. "I fear the worst."
  
  Interlude 42: The trials and tribulations of Samwell Tarly
  
  "Sam? Samwell Tarly!"
  
  Sam shook awake and looked right into a weathered face and warm brown eyes.
  
  "Davos, I did it again, didn't I?" Sam wiped the drool from the right corner of his mouth with his sleeve and made an effort to get his bearings. The large table in the library was littered with scrolls and two large books lay open in front of him. The letters on the scroll that he had been writing before he dozed off were no more than vague blotches. His hand went to his right cheek.
  
  Davos chuckled. "I can almost read the words you have written of your cheek, Sam. Here."
  
  Sam gratefully accepted the moist cloth Davos handed him and rubbed frantically at his cheek. "I so wanted to finish that message to Riverrun."
  
  "You should let Lord Stark write his own messages, Sam. You have enough duties as it is. It is all right for him to ask you to attach his message to one of your ravens and send them on its way. You don't have to act as his scribe as well. "
  
  "Not his scribe who dutifully writes down what his lord and master dictates, he asked me to phrase the message myself. He just gave me a few keywords." Sam admitted.
  
  Davos shook his head. "I'd like to report you to his Grace, young Tarly. But I know only too well that our young King will not speak any harsh word to you. The only thing I can do is see you to your bed myself and I'll talk to Lord Stark."
  
  Sam nodded gratefully. "It is so hard to say no when they ask politely." He confessed.
  
  "I had gathered by now that such is your weakness. But I had hoped that ever since Lady Ashara is assisting the Queen with the household books and I am doing my best to write the simpler messages with the assistance of Maester Pylos, not to mention that we all can rely on the two young scribes Varys sent us to make the extra copies, that you would have it a bit easier."
  
  Sam started to organise the mess on the table.
  
  "Leave it!" Davos all but ordered him. "You can lock the door after you. That way you are sure that the first one to enter this room will be you. I know better than to hope that you will not be here at first light come morning."
  
  Sam reluctantly got up. It was no use to protest. Davos was right. Sam practically lived in this room for now. He probably had slept more nights in here than in that nice room with a big soft bed that had been assigned to him. There was not enough light in one day. The only time he had made it to the training yard had been when the Princess had dragged him outside before her marriage looking for a sparring partner who would take it easy on her. The sole reason that Sam had not put on weight again was because most of the time he was so deeply concentrated on what he was doing that he forgot to eat. Once he was neck deep in his research, time flew by and only because it grew darker and he had to go in search of a candle, did he realise that he had skipped yet another meal.
  
  Joni, a young kitchen help had started to serve his breakfast in here the days he did not break his fast in the private dining room. He suspected Davos to have given the boy that task. Besides breakfast, the meals right after a meeting finished were the only ones he was sure to attend. The rest of the time, it depended on who passed by the library and reminded him that it was lunch or dinnertime and whether they had enough determination to get past his first refusal.
  
  When he dreamed of being a Maester before they all came south, he always pictured himself delving through books and studying form morning till evening. The reality was rather different. Most of his time was spent reading and cataloguing messages and then discussing and answering them. Meetings also took up a lot of his time. Attending them and writing down faithfully every decision they made, often adding a detailed motivation to give posterity the chance to understand why they came to sometimes rather unexpected solutions. He liked crafting the text of a new decree. He found pride in ameliorating old laws. He had also enjoyed going over every eligible bachelor and maiden of every age to give Jon creative options for strengthening political alliances.
  
  But the two activities he preferred were relegated to the small hours of the night: doing research on the Long Night and the magical abilities of Targaryens. These last few sennights he had been obsessed with finding information on what made the dragonlords more immune to burns than the average human being and ways to control a dragon other than whips and Jon's unique mental way.
  
  The book he had started to write on the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his name and his earlier years lay abandoned. If they survived the war against the dead, Sam had solemnly vowed to dedicate at least a small part of each day of the remainder of his life to this work. Posterity should know about the events that transpired now. It would not do to struggle to make the entire realm believe they had to find a way to unite and defeat their mystical enemy only to have the generations that came after them go through the same struggle to find information even if it that was still thousands of years from now. Sam's goal was not only to write a tribute to his friend Jon, but to help whoever came after them to prevent the Night King from surprising the world of the living ever again.
  
  He had hardly seen Jon outside of meetings and meal times. The limited amount of time they spent in each other's company was used to develop their theories or exchanging small talk with each other during meals. He hoped that things would change now that Gendry was set to arrive any day. As soon as they had successfully created their first batch of Valyrian Steel, a big chunk would fall from their shoulders. Loras had promised to find a way to arrange for the four of them to spend a relaxing evening together as soon as Gendry had arrived. Chances were getting smaller that Robb would join them in King's Landing before Sam ran out of excuses and needed to leave for the Citadel.
  
  Today had been an extra strenuous day. Aside from all his normal tasks, he had spent some time making sure that the enlarged forge that had been construed would be ready so Gendry had an adequate work space at his disposal to experiment away from prying eyes and hopefully make several batches of Valyrian Steel.
  
  When he adjusted the bedfurs and laid his head down, he reviewed the events of these last few moons as he often did before finding peace at night. He always came to the same conclusion. It was all worth it. He was a part of something big. For the first time in his life, many people relied on him. They counted on him to perform a vital role in saving the realm. The King counted on him and Sam would give his last drop of energy to live up to Jon's expectations. It felt great to be needed, to have purpose. And if they all lived beyond the Long Night, Samwell of House Tarly would be able to take credit for the part he had played in that.
  
  Notes:
  
  Next chapter: They all recover from the brutal attack and more official positions are filled.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Based on merit
  Chapter 43: Based on merit
  
  Summary:
  
  The aftermath of a failed kidnapping and some overdue appointments.
  
  Notes:
  
  Warning: character death.
  
  This chapter is unbeta'd.
  
  Comments and thoughts on the chapter are welcome. The only thing I do not like is anonymous trashing. For the first time since posting this story I deleted an anonymous review. Tastes differ. If you don't like this story, move on. There are stories enough on this site to find one you like.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Ser Arthur looked around scanning the empty hallway until his gaze rested on the two guards at the far end. Satisfied to notice that they had spotted him he addressed Rosby. "We need to get to the West Gate on the double. Every guard we encounter should follow and the first servant we see needs to fetch Ser Gerold. But our first priority is to guard our King." He turned to Jon. "We will go as fast as we can but I urge you to stay between us, your Grace."
  
  They slowed shortly so Ser Arthur could shout some orders at the two guards when they neared the end of the hallway. By the time they reached the West Gate, Jon was accompanied by twenty guards. They all had their weapons drawn and those up front shouted to clear the way. Jon looked around frantically. There was no sign of Dany. Three bodies lay on the ground. One was covered with the cloak he knew only too well: half red and half black with a white three headed dragon on the back etched in silver. He kneeled and lifted a corner to reveal the pale, lifeless face of Ser Barristan.
  
  "Your Grace," A guard whose attire made it clear that he belonged to the City Watch addressed him. "It might not be safe out here. Let Ser Arthur escort you to the guard house. The Queen is there under heavy guard. She has been asking for you."
  
  "The other two casualties?" Jon asked, still in a kneeling position beside Ser Barristan's body.
  
  "None of ours. Those were two of the perpetrators. A young recruit was wounded. He and Ser Brienne are inside with the Queen and two of her ladies.
  
  "Let's move to a more secure environment, your Grace." This time it was Ser Arthur who spoke softly to him. The loyal knight had put a hand on his young King's shoulder as much in support as in a silent plea to move to a safer environment.
  
  Jon got up slowly. "All right. Escort me to the Queen."
  
  Dany forgetting all decorum ran into his arms the moment he entered the small room where they had brought her. While he encircled her slim body and pulled it closer to his, he watched out of the corner of his eye how Ser Brienne took a few steps to follow her Queen but stopped a few feet away to afford the royal couple some semblance of privacy. Dany held on to him for dear life and he was not keen to let go of her either when he felt her shaking in his arms.
  
  "You are not hurt?" She shook her head. "I,... we were lucky to have Ghost with us."
  
  Jon nodded. He made sure that Ghost accompanied her each time that she ventured outside the confines of the Red Keep without him. He petted his direwolf who kept close to both of them. Ghost had been glued to Dany's side when he walked in and the wolf had kept up with her when she ran into his arms. He didn't mind the fact that his coat got smeared with the blood that still clung to Ghost's fur. He sent a silent thank you to his wolf while he held his wife with both arms. His eyes scanned the rest of the room and he saw Lady Ashara holding Lady Roslin's hand. Both women looked pale but unharmed. He nodded at them and Lady Ashara returned his nod. A few Gold Cloaks kept watch by the door. Ser Brienne's eyes never left her charge, her hand on the pommel of her sword.
  
  "Ser Barristan was not as lucky." A tear slid down Daenerys' face. "I should have insisted that he stay behind. He was not well, Aegon. He had not entirely recovered from his illness. He wouldn't hear of it though. Why would he not listen?"
  
  "Sssh, he was his own man, Dany. He died as he would have wanted, protecting his Queen. You are alive because of him. Thank him for it. Don't berate him."
  
  "Your Grace! My Queen! Are you both all right?"
  
  Jon sighed. Ser Gerold had arrived. How to convince him to let Dany be for the moment? He already knew the arguments his Lord Commander would use. 'We need to do the debriefing now that events are still on the forefront of her mind and have not been contaminated by other versions.' He released Dany but kept one arm around her shoulder.
  
  "I am all right, Ser Gerold, but the Queen is in shock. She needs rest." He spoke firmly.
  
  Ser Gerold hesitated. "Did she describe what happened to you? Where did the attackers come from? How many were there?"
  
  "Ser Gerold," Jon started but Dany silenced him.
  
  "It is all right, Aegon. Better get this over with." She straightened herself and faced Ser Gerold. "As far as I could tell, they came from a small alley to the left of us. I saw three men walk closely together but paid them no further attention. Then it all started happening. Suddenly Ser Barristan jumped in front of me his sword already drawn and yelled to the others to get me to safety. I tried to look over my shoulder to see what was happening. When I caught a glimpse, the fight was already over. Ser Barristan was down before I reached the building. The only thing I know for sure is that Ghost killed at least one attacker. Then I was ushered inside a building and the door blocked my view. It was about that time that I noticed that we were joined by Gold Cloaks. I pleaded to let me check on Ser Barristan's condition once the attackers were all dead."
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Gerold addressed Jon now. "How did you get here before me?"
  
  Jon sighed. "I was in the Red Keep when Ghost uh you know. Ser Arthur made sure they sent someone to alert you and then we ran over here with all the guards we encountered along the way."
  
  "Ser Arthur?" Ser Gerold needn't say more.
  
  "As the King said. When he felt what had happened, we sequestered ourselves briefly in the King's bedroom where he, you know," Ser Arthur mouthed the word 'warged' without making a sound. "Then we left his room and Rosby and I flanked the King while we hurried here. We alerted everyone that we encountered asking them to fetch you and join us at the West Gate. If you need more information, debrief Ser Brienne and the young apprentice guard that got wounded. I can't seem to recall his name for the moment. Make sure to thank them. You might also want to debrief the men from the City Watch who came to the Queen's assistance as well. Perhaps they can point out some of the smallfolk who were in the vicinity at the time of the attack. The City Watch told me they received help from a few citizens to trap the third man who tried to flee. The streets are still very crowded out there."
  
  "Ser Gerold?" Ser Brienne who had been following the conversation was hesitant to interfere. Ser Gerold gave her a terse nod and she swallowed. "It was Edwyd Fossoway that helped me bring the Queen to safety. They are treating his arm. It is only a shallow cut on his left arm near his wrist."
  
  Ser Gerold nodded. "Thank you, Ser Brienne. I'll speak to you in an instant. I'll briefly have a word with the two Ladies-in-Waiting first. Ser Arthur, get the King and Queen to the Red Keep under heavy guard. Double the guards at every gate. The number of guards patrolling the hallways near the royal quarters have been increased sufficiently already since uh you know." Being in public, it wouldn't do to call it the 'Tyrell debacle' out loud. "I'll stay out here and conduct the investigation. Ser Arthur, also see to it that word is sent to Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn. I need them to come down here. Make sure you find Prince Oberyn. At first sight the perpetrators might be Dornish."
  
  Jon stilled. "Ser Gerold, whatever you learn, whatever you suspect, know that you do not have my permission to arrest Prince Oberyn. You can ask him questions in a respectful manner and will listen to his answers. In the unlikely event that you belief you have enough cause to take action against him, you will not act upon it but come to me first. Is that clear?"
  
  Ser Gerold pursed his lips. "Crystal clear, your Grace."
  
  Jon tightened his left arm around Dany and guided her to the exit, his right hand resting on the pommel of Blackfyre. The sooner they were safely inside the Walls of the Red Keep the
  
  Later that same day
  
  "My task would be a lot easier if they had apprehended at least one of the attackers instead of outright killing them." Varys complained. "Ser Gerold is not an easy man to appease and dead men are difficult to interrogate."
  
  "Impossible to interrogate you mean to say, Lord Varys?" Dany remarked. She was sitting on a sofa that could easily accommodate two large men but sitting as close to Aegon as she could, the both of them barely needed half of the space it offered. Aegon had only released her for the necessary time to change her dress and had kept her company ever since. The attack had happened during the first part of the morning of that same day and it was now shortly before supper.
  
  "I just use other means of interrogation, my Queen." Varys explained. "We check their pockets, search for sigils, tattoos, scrolls. I assess the style of their clothing and weapons. In short, we look for any clue that can actually help us identify who they are and why they attacked you."
  
  "And what did you learn?" Dany knew that Aegon never liked the indirect long-winded speeches of Lord Varys. She put her hand on his thigh and gave him a tense smile.
  
  "Are you sure you want to be here for this, Daenerys?" Prince Oberyn remarked. He was seated on a wooden chair a few feet away from them. Varys sat next to him and the both of them faced the royal couple. Davos and Ser Gerold had opted to keep standing while they all shared their findings with the King and Queen.
  
  Aegon put his hand on hers in an encouraging gesture. "Yes, I do." She kept her voice firm. They had all gathered in the sitting room her mother had used decades earlier when she spent time with her Ladies-in-Waiting. It was conveniently located in the same hallway as the royal bedchambers. Jon knew that there were at least four guards posted at their door now and more further along in the corridor.
  
  Prince Oberyn nodded and exchanged glances with Varys. Apparently the Master of Whispers allowed the Dornish Prince to explain because it was Oberyn who started talking.
  
  "Once more they tried to blame an attack on the Dornish. Just like the two archers that attempted to take out King Robert on his balcony a moon before his abdication. And we suspect the same group was also behind one of the weaker assassination attempts on your wedding day. The culprits had the darker skin that could be mistaken for persons of Dornish origin. This time the clues we found were more straightforward and we can state with absolute certainty that your attackers were neither Dornishmen nor were they hired by my elder brother."
  
  Dany saw her husband look at Ser Gerold to gauge his reaction. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard remained stoic which told Dany that that he had reviewed the evidence before coming to this meeting and was convinced it was legitimate. "Can you tell us about these clues, please?" Dany's soft voice broke the silence.
  
  "Of course, my Queen." Lord Varys' sing-song voice answered her plea. "They had several items on them that hint to them being Ironborn or hired by Ironborn. One man lacked his tongue. On further examination, it was confirmed that it had been severed a long time ago and not recently to cast suspicion on Euron Greyjoy by mimicking his cruel habit. The other man, we suspect, was a faceless man. The Gold Cloak swore he looked Dornish but after he died, his face and hair colour changed. These men made another crucial mistake. Instead of learning their instructions by hard, one of the attacker had the scroll still in his pocket. This was no assassination attempt, your Graces. They intended to kidnap the Queen and bring her to the River Gate where a boat would pick her up. Unfortunately the scroll didn't mention where they intended to take her from there. It bore no signature."
  
  Dany looked at Ser Gerold who shook his head and remarked. "By the time we found the scroll and sent a patrol over there, there was no trace of their accomplices."
  
  "Or you didn't recognise them." Davos spoke up for the first time. He smiled apologetically. "I once was a smuggler, you see. As a smuggler you make sure that you blend in. If I had been there with nefarious purposes, I would have posed as a modest fisherman with a dilapidated little vessel, one just big enough to get my victim to a nearby sheltered location where a bigger ship would lie in wait."
  
  Aegon looked at Ser Gerold who once more shook his head. "We didn't detect anything suspicious. I am sorry, your Graces. I'll widen the search perimeter and we'll be more thorough next time."
  
  "Next time?" Prince Oberyn raised an eyebrow. "We won't sit by and wait for a next time. This must stop. How long has it been now that we have allowed Stannis Baratheon to stay silent? We know from our spies that he has declared himself King and has made an alliance with the Ironborn. Baratheons and Greyjoys are plotting a rebellion. Let's force the traitor to declare his intentions."
  
  "It's been forty-five days since we took the throne." Aegon concurred. "I reckon his intent is clear. He renounces my claim. Perhaps we should attempt a parlay."
  
  "And concede him what exactly, Aegon?" Oberyn looked offended.
  
  "We will not concede anything." Aegon retorted calmly. "But if we let him state his terms, we at least officially know that he is an enemy to my rule. As things stand now, I cannot rally support to stand with me against Stannis Baratheon."
  
  "A parlay is not without its risks." Ser Gerold cautioned.
  
  "I agree," Davos supported the Lord Commander. "Perhaps we should start with sending another raven first, one with an unambiguous deadline. Make it clear that he need not come to King's Landing immediately but that we expect an official statement declaring himself for or against King Aegon. Give him a sennight upon receipt of the raven to reply. No reaction means he is in open rebellion and the Crown will be forced to annex the Stormlands by force."
  
  "He'll just deny receiving the raven." Varys piped up and Dany noticed another silent exchange between the Master of Whispers and the Dornish Prince.
  
  "We'll do both." Aegon decided firmly. "Davos, send the raven out today. Lord Varys, find a messenger we can send to one of our spies in the Crownlands near the border with the Stormlands and see to it that they deliver an official request for a parlay to Stannis Baratheon. I will formulate the document with the help of Sam and Davos to have the wording just right. I will have it ready for you by noon tomorrow at the latest."
  
  "As you wish, your Grace." Varys inclined his head.
  
  She noticed how Aegon started to scowl a no one in particular. She was about to squeeze his hand in reassurance when he spoke up. "Ser Gerold, my kin will arrive tomorrow. Arrange for their safe conduct to the Red Keep. Don't take any chances. In light of today's events, I'm sure they will understand that the Queen and I will not meet their ship on the docks to welcome them there but instead will greet them inside the Red Keep the moment they arrive here."
  
  Dany was not the only one who recognised the relief on Ser Gerold's normally so stoic face.
  
  "I'll confer with Prince Eddard Stark, your Graces. I know that he intended to go out to the docks tomorrow morning with his brother and young Prince Bran."
  
  "I'll represent their Graces." Davos stated calmly.
  
  "And I'll make sure that he takes enough men of his houseguard with him." The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was quick to close the subject before anyone might say something that could get the King to change his mind.
  
  "Is there anything else I need to hear about the attack?" Aegon asked. "Have you learned more about the way Ser Barristan died?"
  
  Ser Gerold's eyes once more lingered on Dany.
  
  "I can handle it, Ser Gerold." Dany hoped she sounded less irritated than she felt.
  
  "I reconstructed what happened with the help of several eyewitnesses. It mostly went as the Queen told us. Ser Barristan saw the attackers first and jumped in front of her. He ordered Ser Brienne and Edwyd Fossoway to escort the Queen and the Ladies-in-Waiting to the nearest building. They obeyed instantly and were assisted by the smallfolk. Ser Brienne stayed with the Queen and her Ladies. Fossoway ran back outside to help Ser Barristan. But by then Ser Barristan was already down. A Gold Cloak that was patrolling the streets had witnessed the altercation and hurried over to assist. Apparently one assailant had been disarmed by Ser Barristan and the King's direwolf had immediately ripped out his throat. But the second one had Ser Barristan on the back foot when the commander needed to block a powerful stroke."
  
  Ser Gerold's voice trembled and he swallowed two times before continuing. "According to the witness it all happened in a heartbeat. Before the direwolf was finished with his first victim or before Fossoway or the Gold Cloak could intervene, the second man, the one we suspect to be a trained assassin, struck Ser Barristan with a dagger he drew with his left hand. He managed to mortally wound Ser Barristan. Before our brother bled out, he managed to kill the faceless man with the help of Ghost. The third assailant tried to get away but here the smallfolk intervened and blocked his escape route with a large cart. He got cut down by Fossoway but not before the man managed to wound Fossoway. He has a small cut on his left arm. He was blindsided by a spare dagger the perpetrator drew in a desperate attempt when he realised he was losing the fight. I offered Fossoway a position in your Dragonguard, your Grace."
  
  Dany nodded her assent. And Aegon gestured for Ser Gerold to continue.
  
  "All that was left to do was to cover up the bodies and cordon off the area. To placate the Queen they let her return to Ser Barristan's side for a short moment. By the time the King arrived on the scene, the Queen and both her Ladies-in-Waiting were secure in the nearest guard house of the City Watch."
  
  "We were only fifty feet away from the orphanage that we intended to visit. How did they know to attack us there?" She looked to Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn.
  
  "They didn't necessarily know beforehand, Daenerys." Prince Oberyn's soothing voice had a calming effect on her nerves. "Men like these are paid well to stay patient. It is highly likely that they were keeping an eye on every exit of the Red Keep for several days and were still devising a plan. My guess is that they were taken by surprise by your sudden appearance and they acted rashly instead of waiting for more accomplices to help them. Three attackers against three trained guards, those are bad odds for criminals."
  
  "Perhaps not for a faceless man." Prince Oberyn remarked. "They have a bit of a reputation." When Dany threw him a questioning look, Oberyn added. "They always get the job done."
  
  "Three guards to escort three ladies, one of them being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is not sufficient either." Davos looked accusingly at Ser Gerold.
  
  "Ser Barristan was in charge. I only intervene with his schedule when I deem it necessary. The city was peaceful. We had no cause to suspect that the Queen would be in danger. It was a routine outing and she had Ghost with her." Ser Gerold pointed out.
  
  "Did you know that Ser Barristan was not entirely recovered yet?" This time it was Aegon who questioned Ser Gerold's leadership. "Perhaps he was not thinking clearly enough. He surely lacked the strength to fight off his aggressors. If he had been in good health, these attackers wouldn't have stood a chance. Between him and Ghost, they would have dealt with them before they got two strikes in. Belief in his skill is the only reason why he was confident enough to order the two other guards to lead the Queen and her Ladies to safety. Apparently he overestimated his health. If this account of what happened is accurate, he was still severely weakened by his bout of sickness. Where was Ser Jorah?"
  
  "Sleeping, your Grace. He just finished the nightshift. I checked the logs." Ser Gerold had deflated a bit.
  
  "Ser Gerold, I trust you to up the Queens's security and appoint a new Commander for her Dragonguard. I'll expect a progress report during our briefing tomorrow. I urge you once more to evaluate the apprentice guards and move up the appointments. It also might be a good idea to dedicate an entire training session to teaching the men how to anticipate and how to react when an opponent draws a dagger or any other weapon with his spare hand. I will also want to hear at that time what Ser Barristan's last wishes were in respect to a funeral ceremony and where to inter his body. Does anyone else have anything to add? Prince Oberyn? Varys?"
  
  "One of my little birds reported suspicious activity near the River Gate. I will investigate and hopefully get the information to Ser Gerold in time for his briefing tomorrow morning."
  
  "Thank you, Lord Varys. Davos?"
  
  "I think we can end the meeting for now, your Grace. I'll send Maester Pylos to the Queen after supper. He can check her heart rate and decide whether she needs help falling asleep."
  
  Aegon pressed her hand when she wanted to protest. "That is thoughtful of you, Davos."
  
  Davos gestured the others to leave the room and they all hurried out, glad the tragic briefing was over.
  
  Dany turned to Aegon. "I don't want a sleeping potion, Aegon."
  
  "I know, my love. It doesn't hurt to let the Maester check you out. You can reason with him then and convince him that I am all you need to get you calm and relaxed enough to fall asleep."
  
  "I think I will be exhausted all by myself, thank you. But I will not be able to sleep without your body warmth."
  
  "Don't forget my strong arms and loving presence." He kissed her softly, one hand stroking her hair.
  
  She relaxed her body against his. "Your love is all I need, Aegon. A thousand Maesters can't fabricate a potion that will make me feel as safe and relaxed as your presence in my bed does."
  
  Jon kept moving his hand through her hair in a soothing manner. "I live to serve, my Queen." He whispered against her cheek and tightened his other arm around her.
  
  The next morning
  
  Davos looked out over the water watching the five ships navigate the bay to reach the dock. Four of the five ships flew the white mermaid with dark green hair and tail, carrying a black trident. The ship up front proudly showed off the personal sigil of King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. Davos smiled when he saw that. Daenerys had mentioned that she had sent a sail to the Fingers where the ships had docked to provision. It was obvious which ship carried the group that he and the three Stark Princes had come out to greet.
  
  "They're here." Eddard Stark's serious voice announced. "If I am not mistaken, they just appeared on the front deck.
  
  "I see two beautiful redheads." Benjen Stark remarked. "Sansa is easier to spot than Arya."
  
  "Princess Arya is present as well," Davos told Bran. "Look left of the tall dark man. She stands next to the new Lord Gendry of House Baratheon.
  
  Bran didn't reply but kept his gaze fixed on the large shape of the ship with the Targaryen sigil. That much he could make out.
  
  "Brace yourself, Brother." Benjen put his hand on his older brother's shoulder. "The likeness of young Gendry with his deceased father is astounding."
  
  "Why does it take so long to dock?" Eddard Stark looked at Davos for an answer. He pulled a cloth out of his pocket to wipe the sweat off his brow.
  
  "You northerners and your furs." Davos chuckled. "We're in the south and still you can't venture outside without putting on a heavy cloak. It takes skill to navigate the ship between the piers. More so when the wind is blowing from an awkward angle. The captains need to take their time. I'd like to see you trying."
  
  "I'll take your word for it, Lord Seaworth." Eddard Stark grumbled but raised his hand to waive back at his wife and daughters who had spotted them. He looked over his shoulders to check that the heavily armed guards stood at the ready to escort his family safely to the Red Keep. After the events of yesterday, Jon had urged everyone to be cautious while venturing outside of the confines of the Red Keep.
  
  It took more of his patience but finally the gangplank was lowered and Arya was the first to set foot on dry land. "Father, Uncle, we've arrived and we are all well! Where is Jon? Is my new teacher here? Oh Bran, I'm so glad you brought Summer."
  
  "And we are fine too. Thank you for asking, Arya." His father embraced her warmly despite the dry tone of his voice. "Greet your Uncle Benjen first." He gently admonished her when she turned to the direction of the direwolf. He released his youngest daughter just in time to see his wife and Sansa approach.
  
  "Sansa, you look lovely. The sea air agrees with you it seems."
  
  "Thank you, Father," she replied demurely but initiated their embrace.
  
  "My Lady Wife." He turned to Catelyn
  
  "My Lord Husband," She smiled and they embraced briefly.
  
  He gave her a peck on her cheek. "All is well?"
  
  "As well as can be. I am not much of a sailor. I was nauseous the first part of our trip. Thank the Seven for Lord Baratheon. He kept Arya in check so Sansa could attend me."
  
  Eddard Stark turned to the young man who stood a few paces behind them awaiting his turn to be introduced. Even despite the warning, it was like seeing a ghost from the past. That was exactly how Robert looked back in the day before he got fat. Seeing Gendry brought memories to the forefront of all the times that he and his best friend had talked until the small hours and made plans for all the pranks that they would pull when they lived at the Vale. Not wanting to offend the young man, he quickly stepped forward to greet him. "Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, I presume. Well met. My name is Prince Eddard Stark. I am in your debt, I hear. Thank you for bringing my wife and daughters to me in one piece."
  
  "It was an honour and a pleasure, Prince Stark."
  
  Ned saw the nervousness reflected in the young man's blue Baratheon eyes. Robert's eyes had never looked at him like that. Robert had been cocky from a very young age already. Back then Ned had admired him for it. He swallowed as he remembered how he had buried his friend only recently. Robert would never get to meet this son of his that at first sight seemed like a good man. He wondered what stories the son had heard of his sire. Jon had warned him not to offer his condolences. He made sure to give the young man the respect he was due. "I highly appreciate it all the same, Lord Baratheon." He looked sideways and noticed that his younger brother was talking to his wife and daughters assisted by Davos Seaworth.
  
  His wife caught his eye. "Arya was wondering where King Aegon was?"
  
  Benjen who stood behind her rolled his eyes, but Ned's expression turned serious when he addressed his youngest daughter who was petting Summer. "He very much wanted to be here, Arya. But something uh important happened and he sent his Hand to represent him. I'll explain later." He noticed Davos resuming the conversation with his wife and offering her his arm. Benjen fell into step with them. Sansa and Arya followed with Bran and Summer. The wolf was indulging Arya by staying close to her and his human. The two Stark girls were both eagerly listening to their brother's tales of his stay in the capital. Eddard turned his attention back on Gendry Baratheon. "My daughters didn't cause you too much trouble while my wife was indisposed, Lord Baratheon?"
  
  "Not at all, Prince Stark." The young man replied politely.
  
  Ned raised his eyebrow. "Come now, my Lord. You can tell me the truth. I know my youngest daughter's disposition. Sennights confined on a ship without a single prank? You won't rescue her reputation by keeping silent. I am her father after all. Rest assured, I love her just the way she is."
  
  The corners of Gendry's mouth lifted slightly upwards. "In that case, I might as well confess that she had me worried a few times. It was not easy to keep track off her despite being on a ship." Gendry's expression sobered when he recalled how on two separate occasions he had frantically searched the entire vessel when Arya seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
  
  "Pray elaborate." Eddard Stark had seen some emotion flicker in the young man's eyes that he couldn't help but stare at. He wanted to know more.
  
  "Nothing she needs to be punished for. Let me state that up front, Prince Stark. It gets boring on a ship after a while."
  
  "Let me be the judge of that. I will keep her circumstances in mind when I decide whether she needs to be chastised or not. He saw the young man hesitate and added. "Has she ever complained that she has an ogre for a father that punishes her unfairly or way too harsh?"
  
  "No, my Lord." The young man was quick to offer sounding sincere. "To the contrary. Princess Arya looks up to you. Every word that comes out of her mouth when she mentions you reveals how proud she is to be the daughter of the honourable Lord Eddard of House Stark."
  
  "Then trust me to have her best interests in mind. Your words or rather those that you did not speak have made me curious, young man."
  
  "Then I'll tell you about the two times that stood out and that she really had me worried." Gendry's formal demeanour had relaxed a little. "The first time it took me a while to locate her in the ship's kitchen where she had befriended a young baker apprentice named Hot Pie." He smiled when he remembered what Arya had looked like. "I almost did not recognise her and might have mistaken her for another kitchen help if she hadn't called after me and proudly presented me with a strange half burned shape and declared that it was the first bannock she had ever baked. She wore an oversized apron and had covered her hair so only her face and hands were covered in white flour."
  
  Ned smiled imagining the scene easily and nodded. "And the second time?" He saw the young Lord stiffen slightly and take a deep breath as if the recollection still troubled him a little.
  
  "The second time I searched the ship twice to no avail. Your wife was still indisposed and I didn't want to alert her needlessly so I mobilised half of the crew to help me look for her. We searched for a long time and I started to fear the worst. Pictures of her floating lifelessly beneath the waves were torturing me when shortly after dusk she showed up of her own accord with a grumbling stomach and dirty streaks of dried tears on her face. Apparently she had been searching the ship's hold for the sword that the King - when she still knew him as Jon Celtigar - had gifted her. She was inconsolable since she hadn't been able to find it." Gendry omitted to inform him how her devastated expression so uncommon on this usually vibrant girl had made him hold back on the scolding he had planned to give her. He had embraced her and told her it would be all right, that he would help her find it. He would never forget how scared he had been when they were out of places to look for her and the crew was about to give up moments before she showed up. The only time in his life that he had been more scared was near Hardhome when the dead had charged at them over the frozen lake with intimidating numbers. Lost in his recollections, he almost missed her father's next question.
  
  "I saw the small sword strapped around her waist so I reckon that she found it in the end?"
  
  "I had the Captain order a search of all the servants' quarters. It was found and the thief confessed. I made Princess Arya promise to always keep close to her mother or me after the incident, afraid that some of the crew might retaliate for the dismissal of their comrade after they had cut of his right hand. I am glad to say that she caused no further upheaval worth mentioning. To be honest, I am somewhat relieved that I can hand the responsibility of keeping her safe back to you. I hope for your sake that her new teacher has arrived and will put some of that energy that she has in spades towards something constructive."
  
  "I'm happy to say that he is in King's Landing. I'll introduce you to him later. He has been in the capital for a few sennights."
  
  Gendry nodded and studied the guards wearing Stark colours that were walking alongside their party. "I wondered whether he was perhaps a part of your security detail. Is it normal procedure to bring so many guards with you?"
  
  "No it is not." Ned lowered his voice. "There was a failed attack on the Queen yesterday. I won't take any chances with the safety of my family."
  
  "I presume that is the reason why Jon, I mean King Aegon did not come out here himself. I had wondered. Is the Queen all right?"
  
  "She is. You will see that with your own eyes soon enough. I have orders to bring you all to them as soon as you had a chance to refresh yourselves. And Lord Baratheon, in private, we all still call him Jon."
  
  Gendry nodded and noticed Princess Catelyn looking over her shoulder. It was not the first time she had done that during his conversation with Prince Stark. This time her frown was more severe. "Perhaps you should join your Lady Wife? On the ship, I overheard her talking to Princess Sansa about how she looked forward to arriving at the Red Keep on the arm of her husband, who was a key figure in helping his nephew, ascend his rightful throne.
  
  "We should have met them on the docks, Aegon. Won't your Aunt feel slighted? You told me more than once that she is big on protocol and attaches great importance to her new status of Princess of the North." She looked up at her husband and once more saw a fierce protective expression appear on his handsome face. He had hardly left her side since yesterday's attack. He had added an extra dagger to his sword belt and had one tucked away in his boot as well. Ghost hadn't left them either and always watched her left side while Aegon guarded her right.
  
  "My Aunt will understand, Dany. I'd rather that you stay inside until we know more. I want to make absolutely sure that no more men that were complicit in the plot to kidnap you are roaming the city. I need to keep you safe." The hand that held hers tightened its grip. She reckoned it was an unconscious gesture. He had held her so close against him last night under their bedfurs that in the end she had been obliged to ask him to loosen his grip a little so she could fall asleep.
  
  This morning he had dragged her along to his private training yard where his Kingsguards were ready to put him through his paces. She had obliged him by putting on her leather breeches and armour and he had spent some time teaching her how to defend herself with a dagger. Ser Oswell had been ordered to fetch a straw dummy and Jon had showed her how to stab a man beneath his rib cage and push the knife upwards so it could pierce his vital organs. If the man wore armour, she had been advised to look for an opening near his groin or under his armpit. If she could reach it without endangering herself, cutting his throat was the surest way to kill him.
  
  He had let her practice on the dummy while he fought his Kingsguard that had brought wooden daggers and attacked him without their shields but with a sword in their right and a dagger in their left hand. Ser Oswell almost had him when he jumped into the fight between Aegon and Ser Arthur wielding an axe. Aegon had ducked and countered in the nick of time even though he had been distracted because Dany had loudly called his name fearing he would get hurt. When they paused for a while, Aegon had reassured her that even if he had lost the fight, his Kingsguard would have held back and worst case scenario, he would have walked away with a few bruises.
  
  They had refreshed themselves in their respective rooms but Aegon had left the panel door open and Ghost, back from his morning hunt took up guard in Jon's stead. She had not been fooled when Aegon had asked for her assistance while he changed his attire. He had ignored how nervous her presence had made his young squires. The rest of the morning they had been sequestered in his study both of them seated behind the large desk when Davos and Ser Gerold had presented their daily reports. For now they had finished reading the newly arrived scrolls and were keeping each other company while they waited for the King's aunt and cousins to arrive. She obliged him when he pulled her closer and climbed on his lap.
  
  "I will indulge you for a few days but I am not going to be a virtual prisoner again, Aegon. I endured years of that life in Pentos. At least Ser Gerold has agreed to formally appoint five of his better recruits permanently to the Dragonguard. With Ser Jorah and Ser Brienne, I have a larger guard than you now."
  
  Aegon looked at the door. They knew that Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur stood at the other side with Ser Jorah and a newly appointed Dragonguard. He encircled her and kissed her forehead. "Tonight there is an intimate ceremony for Ser Barristan. The Septon has agreed to hold it in the chapel here in the Red Keep. Afterwards his remains will be sent to Harvest Hall the seat of his House in the Stormlands. Ser Gerold apparently has records of each of his guards' wishes regarding their last resting place."
  
  She rested her head against his shoulder. "I still can't fathom that he is gone. It seemed as if he was always present. I had grown to like him very quickly."
  
  Aegon used his left hand to push a stray lock behind her ear and caressed her cheek absently. "I had also. We'll make sure the realm will remember him. Perhaps we can name something after him. A street, a building perhaps?"
  
  She lifted her head slightly and looked into his eyes. "Why not the champion's price of the joust of each tournament that we will hold in King's Landing."
  
  "The Barristan the Bold Award, I like that." He kissed the tip of her nose.
  
  "Perhaps we can fabricate a trophy and incorporate something in its design that is associated with Ser Barristan."
  
  "You have ample time to come up with an idea, Dany." Two loud knocks made them both startle.
  
  Ser Arthur's head appeared when Jon gave him permission to enter. "Your family has arrived, your Grace. Seeing that it is almost lunch time, Lord Seaworth escorted them to the private dining room and has seen to it that it is an exclusive family affair. Her Graces' Ladies-in-Waiting, Lord Tarly and all the others will take their meal elsewhere."
  
  "Thank you, Ser Arthur. Then please escort the Queen and me to them."
  
  The moment Arya jumped into Aegon's arms with a large shriek, Dany knew exactly why Davos had made sure that the King and Queen greeted the Starks behind closed doors with only Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell being allowed inside the room. She wondered whether Ser Arthur had closed the door quickly enough to prevent Arya's shriek from resounding throughout the hallway. Jon obliged her by twirling her around a few times before setting her down.
  
  "Where is your crown?" She asked when put her down again.
  
  Dany saw her husband chuckle for the first time since the failed attack and she liked Arya already.
  
  "I don't wear it all the time. I'll show it to you later." A still smiling Aegon turned to her and led her by the hand to make the presentations.
  
  His descriptions had been spot on. Princess Catelyn or Aunt Catelyn as she had been given permission to call her was the epitome of a Southern Lady. Even though she wore the Stark colours, her dress would not be remiss amongst the ladies of her Court. Princess Sansa, her eldest daughter was a younger version of her, a red-haired beauty with impeccable manners. Her curtsy was very elegant. Her words sounded much warmer than those of her mother's though.
  
  Arya on the other hand even though she wore a dress, acted more like a young boy. On her mother's orders she made an awkward curtsy to Queen Daenerys but followed it up with an impulsive hug immediately after. Princess Catelyn wanted to interfere but Aegon prevented it with a small hand gesture. As predicted, Arya's next victim was Ghost and the young Stark hugged the large direwolf within an inch of his life. She saw Aegon's eyes mist over when he watched the scene and then he closed his eyes for a moment. Daenerys understood when she saw how Ghost patiently indulge the young girl that missed her own wolf dearly.
  
  "Can Ghost sit close to me?" She asked with big pleading eyes. "He will help me miss Nymeria less."
  
  Dany noticed that Aegon who had reopened his eyes shared a long look with the direwolf before he replied. "That can be arranged if you take the seat facing Dany and we'll remove the chair to your left so he has enough room. Let's all take a seat. I want to hear all about your travels and,..." Dany saw Aegon look around and frown. "Where is Gendry?" He turned to Ser Arthur. "Where is Lord Baratheon?"
  
  "Lord Seaworth was not sure if you wanted him present during your family reunion. He offered to keep him company. I heard him send for the Lady Shireen and Ser Loras, your Grace. Lord Baratheon will get a warm welcome from them."
  
  Aegon looked at her and when she nodded he addressed Ser Arthur again. "Then send a servant with the message that Lord Gendry can join us for dessert. The same goes for Sam, Davos, Lady Shireen and the other ladies-in-waiting."
  
  "As you wish, your Grace." Ser Arthur stepped into the hallway for a moment and was back in an instant.
  
  Dany made sure that everyone was seated before gesturing to Ser Arthur to allow the servants to bring in the food. At first a few polite enquiries were answered. Dany waited for the last servants to leave the room before she and Aegon relaxed their formal posture and by the time that Lord Baratheon and the others were announced, Dany felt she had made big strides in getting to know her good family.
  
  After supper that night, Jon, Sam and Gendry withdrew to the library. It was a bit awkward that Loras had watch duty and needed to stay outside with Ser Oswell. A reassuring wink of Loras made Jon feel better about closing the door on his friend. Even more so when he opened the note that Loras had slipped him without anyone else noticing. It mentioned that Rosby would take up his shift early so he could join them hopefully really soon.
  
  "Where is Ghost?" Gendry asked clearly disappointed not to see the direwolf with them.
  
  "He is keeping Dany and her ladies company." Jon answered.
  
  "Guarding her, he means." Sam clarified.
  
  "The attack only happened yesterday." Jon defended himself. "As long as I feel that Ghost is calm, I know that she is safe."
  
  "I understand, Jon. I'll have other opportunities to see Ghost, I am sure. Gods, it feels strange that you are King now."
  
  "In here I am not, Gendry. I am just a friend who is glad that you have finally arrived and I am mere moments away from asking for your assistance once more."
  
  "As long as it is not guarding Arya on a ship for almost a moon." Gendry joked half-heartedly.
  
  "I'm sorry she gave you trouble. I have heard a bit about that."
  
  "Who betrayed her?" Gendry looked offended now.
  
  "She told me herself, Gendry. In between the boasting, I could tell that she was serious and she voluntarily admitted how panicked she had been when she believed her precious sword to be lost forever."
  
  "I could make her as many as she wished." Gendry interjected.
  
  "But it wouldn't be the same." Sam's calm voice interrupted both men. "She lost her very first sword that was a gift from the King. She received a special gift from Jon long before anyone else did. That little sword was her proof of the special friendship that exists between her and Jon."
  
  "Then I am doubly glad we were able to retrieve it." Gendry remarked and the three young men fell silent.
  
  "Edric finally returned to Starfall. I expect to receive a scroll to announce his safe arrival any day now. He was sad to miss your arrival but it couldn't be helped."
  
  "I'm sorry that I missed him but not as sorry as one of your cousins will be when she learns that he is no longer in King's Landing." Gendry said quietly and the others concurred.
  
  "I did receive a letter from Robb." Jon ventured and the discussion steered away from the stalemate that was Edric's love life.
  
  Gendry glanced nervously towards Sam not sure how much his friend knew. "Robb is doing so much better." He confirmed neutrally.
  
  "Did you know what Arya wrote?" Jon's entire face lit up now.
  
  "No. Should I steel myself?" Gendry posture however had relaxed again.
  
  "Not at all. It went something like this and I quote. Gendry made Robb laugh so hard that he needed to hold his belly. And on the first day of his visit too. Unquote. "
  
  "I remember that instance. It was something silly that we laughed about. As I recall it, we were mimicking Princess Catelyn. She has a thing with titles and a certain way to pronounce them. If you start paying attention to it, it gets really difficult to keep your composure in her company."
  
  "No wonder she witnessed Robb's good mood so often. She caused it herself." Jon smiled and felt better than he had since the attack.
  
  "How have you been, Sam?" Gendry changed the subject. "It's been some time since your last letter and that was rather short."
  
  "Busy," Sam sighed but immediately amended his tone after a furtive glance at Jon. "But loving every moment of it. I am part of the driving force that is defining the future of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  "Now that sounds important. No wonder you look exhausted. You have lost more weight as well."
  
  Gendry saw Jon studying Sam with a small frown and wondered if he had stumbled on a delicate issue. When Sam just smiled and offered no reply he quick grasped the opportunity to give the conversation another direction. "I haven't seen a forge in more than a moon. Is there one between the Walls of the Red Keep or do I have to pay Tobho Mott in the Street of Steel a visit when I get severe withdrawal symptoms?"
  
  Jon looked at Sam who immediately reacted. "There was a small forge here in order to make minor repairs on site. We hired some builders and had them expand it. It is conveniently located near the north wall. Behind that wall there is a small beach that leads to Blackwater Bay. The dragons can easily reach over the wall and help us melt the steel."
  
  "Then I can get started with our tests for real?" Gendry eyed them both eagerly.
  
  Jon and Sam smiled at the childish delight in Gendry's demeanour. Sam was quick to answer. "Yes, but we must keep it under wraps. I wrote to you we have a detailed recipe now. A batch takes more than twenty-two days plus the time necessary to cool it one last time. When you start planning and organizing, keep in mind is that we need a few drops of fresh blood from Jon on day one. Dragonfire on days one, eight and fifteen. The rest of the ingredients are things we have readily available, namely regular steel, dragonglass and normal fire."
  
  Gendry looked at Sam with big eyes. "And you know the exact proportions of dragonglass to add and which quality of steel to use?"
  
  "Yes to the first, we will have to experiment with the second." Jon chimed in. "But spare no expenses and use the best quality of steel you can find."
  
  Gendry let them explain in detail why it took so long to finish a single batch. The only thing that Gendry called into question was the fact that they needed to let the metal rest an entire sennight before melting it again. But in the end they agreed to strictly adhere to the recipe."
  
  "I propose to start a new batch every sennight. That way we'll need a dragon every seventh day and after the first sennight, they can melt more than one batch."
  
  "If we do it that way, Jon will need to give up a few drops of fresh blood once a week as well." Sam remarked.
  
  "I don't mind." Jon was quick to agree. "Once we can compare the first few batches, I want you to make Valyrian Steel armour for me from the best one. You have the drawing of my father's armour. I want the red rubies I received as a gift from House Celtigar on the exact same spots. Once I close my visor, people who knew Prince Rhaegar shouldn't be able to tell the difference between me and my late father."
  
  "I am getting excited and can't wait to start." Gendry's enthusiasm was contagious.
  
  Jon reached for the pitcher of ale that had remained untouched. "A toast. To our reunion and to a successful, joint endeavour!"
  
  "Only if I can get a cup as well." Loras had entered the room and stood awkwardly near the closed door.
  
  Sam was quick to fill a fourth cup. The four friends stayed together joking and reminiscing until the pitcher was empty and Jon sheepishly asked permission to join his wife.
  
  "Damn, we forgot to drink to future little Targaryen Princes and Princesses." Gendry exclaimed.
  
  "Well, we'll be sure to that that next time." Sam smiled as they watched Jon slip out of the room.
  
  Gendry shook his head. "Did we just tease a King without any sense of decorum?"
  
  "We teased our friend, Gendry. There was no King in this room for most of our conversation." Sam was quick to reassure him.
  
  Loras shook his head. "Yeah, try telling that to those poor guards who stand watch outside the entire time."
  
  Gendry quickly spoke up. "It is time that I tried to find my way back to that gigantic bed they have me sleeping in. The Gods know I how will ever recall the way."
  
  "You're located in the North Wing, third floor. They marked your door with your sigil, a black stag on a yellow shield. Come on, I'll join you part of the way until I am sure you can find the rest of it on your own." Sam was quick to help out.
  
  "Thanks, Sam." Gendry got up and couldn't help picturing the tiny cot on which he had been sleeping only a year ago. The cot had been so short that he had needed to fold his knees to be able to fit into it. It had stood in a tiny room next to two similar cots for the other apprentices. The entire room had hardly been larger than the space his current bed took up now. A year ago, when he crawled out of that tiny bed, stiff and sore to answer the call of nature outside, he had always looked up at the big stronghold on top of Aegon's Hill whose pale red stone walls glowed in the morning light and he had imagined how the legendary dragonriders of old lived there.
  
  What a difference a year made. Now he knew that those legendary Kings he had heard tales of had been men of flesh and blood with their own worries and daily routines. They needed to eat, sleep and shit the same as other human beings. And Gendry, the poor apprentice of Tobho Mott on the Street of Steel did not only reside in that at one time so unattainable palace, he happened to be a distant relation to a King and dragonrider that one day would be read about in history books. Young blacksmith apprentices would gather in the square to hear someone read the stories out loud and would dream King Aegon and his court up to be bigger than life. Perhaps somebody might read his name in a book one day: Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, the famous Baratheon who was the first one to successfully forge Valyrian Steel on Westerosi soil.
  
  The next morning, Jon was halfway through his daily training session when Arya burst onto the scene. Rosby stopped their bout as soon as Jon gestured him to. "My King?"
  
  "Hold there for a moment, Rosby." Jon said turning away from him. "Let her through, Ser Oswell. She won't stop giving you trouble until you let her approach me."
  
  The moment Ser Oswell stepped aside, Arya almost fell over. She had been trying to push him aside when he hadn't let her pass upon her hastily uttered order to let her through. She quickly recovered her equilibrium and ran to Jon.
  
  "Will you spar with me, Jon? My teacher is nowhere to be found and Gendry is no longer my friend. All I have left is you."
  
  Jon put his arms around her when he saw how upset she was. "Hey, Arya, you can't just interrupt my training like this. How about I finish my exercises first while you watch? When I am done, I will spar with you."
  
  He felt the tension leave her body before she released him. "You promise?"
  
  "Of course. And then you can boast to Gendry how you sparred with me. I am sure he will be jealous. He wrote me more than once that he wanted to test his hammer against my sword."
  
  "If I ever see him again." She pouted. "He and Lady Shireen are breaking their fast together. They entered the morning room together, filled their plates and told us they were going to eat outside."
  
  "I'm sure he bid you a good morning before he left. You are his friend after all."
  
  "Yeah, but he only looked at me briefly, smiled and then left the room with her ." Arya complained emphasizing the word ' her'.
  
  Jon looked into her eyes. "Arya, weren't you glad to see me yesterday?"
  
  Arya bumped her fist against his arm. "Of course I was, stupid. I counted the days until we met again. It has been moons."
  
  Rosby stepped closer staring angrily at Princess Arya. Jon gestured him to stay back. Arya looked up at Rosby unaware of her faux pas. "What?"
  
  Jon put a calming hand on her shoulder. "You just insulted your King, Arya. Tell him you didn't intend to. And in public, I advise you to use an honorific when you refer to me."
  
  "Of course I didn't mean it." Arya had turned to face Rosby. "It was just a matter of, of, well I don't know. Jon is my best friend in the entire realm. I am learning how to wield my sword so I can swear it to him, uh I mean to his Grace, the King of the Seven Kingdoms."
  
  Jon exchanged amused glances with his two Kingsguards over Arya's head.
  
  "In public, you better address your cousin by his title, Princess." Rosby said gently. "In private, I would strongly suggest 'Jon' the better option to 'stupid'."
  
  Arya looked at him with her big eyes and when she recognised the twinkle in his eyes she smiled. "Sorry, not used to being at Court yet. Please don't tell my mother?"
  
  "On my honour as a future Kingsguard." Rosby answered solemnly. Then he turned to his King. "Your Grace, ready to fight with two swords now?"
  
  Arya looked on with big eyes as Jon went through his motions. When they finally called the session to an end she remarked. "You have gotten even better, King Jon." She winked when he arched a brow at that appellation.
  
  "Ready to take your King on?" He challenged her and they sparred for a short while. Only the argument that she shouldn't tire herself overly much before her first lesson with her new teacher convinced her to end their sparring session. Jon washed his face and hands and handed her the towel after he was done. His Kingsguard were waiting for them on the opposite of the courtyard and he led her to a bench so he could speak quietly to her out of earshot.
  
  "You've improved since our last spar, dear cousin. Heed your teacher and you'll become a good swordfighter."
  
  "I will. I'll practice every spare moment I am allowed." She smiled from ear to ear, happy with his praise.
  
  Jon returned the smile but then his face turned serious again and he studied her for a moment. "Arya, you told me that you counted the days until we saw each other again. Gendry had never seen his cousin before yesterday. I am sure he was counting the days as well. She is his closest kin. He doesn't have parents or any other close kin. Shireen is all he has. He is her first cousin and you are still his friend. You should be glad for him. You have sisters, brothers, the best cousin in the realm," he tapped his chest, "and many other friends. Why can't he have one cousin on top of being your friend?"
  
  Arya seemed to mull this over. "Will he want to eat outside with me one day?"
  
  "Why don't you ask to join them next time? If you ask in a nice way, I am sure Gendry will say yes and Shireen would love to meet a friend of her cousin. She has been lonely here at court. Her parents are in the Stormlands and don't love her as much as yours love you. I am sure she will welcome another friend."
  
  "Your Grace, forgive me for interrupting but you should get out of these sweaty clothes before you cool down entirely." Ser Oswell intervened. "And Ser Gerold will be waiting in your study for the daily briefing."
  
  "Your right. Let's go inside." He smiled encouragingly at Arya and got up from the stone bench. He would tell her about the possibility that half-brothers or half-sisters of Gendry might be alive on another occasion. He would have to tell her about poor Edric Storm as well.
  
  A few days later
  
  "Third time lucky I guess, your Grace." Tyrion sat before his desk and had just waved away Jon's apology for having postponed their audience a second time on the day that the Queen had been attacked. He was happy to note that the King had chosen to see him without his Hand present. Not that Tyrion didn't like Lord Seaworth. It was just that this way they could talk without courtesies and protocol making everything more formal.
  
  Jon nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, Lord Lannister."
  
  "Tyrion, please your Grace, call me Tyrion behind closed doors." He was relieved to see the young King smile genuinely at his bold proposal.
  
  "Only if you omit my title as well. I go by Jon or Aegon among friends behind closed doors."
  
  Tyrion bowed his head in acknowledgement of the veiled compliment. Since Willas and Myrcella referred to the young King as Jon amongst themselves, he decided to do the same. "Then shall we get straight to the point, Jon? I am sure you know why I asked for an audience."
  
  "I do. That is exactly the reason why I chose to address you without my Hand present. Ser Davos is your staunchest advocate. He doesn't agree with my reluctance to confirm your appointment."
  
  Tyrion's had trouble keeping his face neutral. This was a disappointing beginning. Apparently the young King had decided against him. "May I ask you to explain to me what exactly makes you so hesitant to grant me the position when you kept it open all this time?"
  
  "It is not your competence that is in doubt, Tyrion. Prince Stark, Eddard Stark to be precise, told me how quick you were to find the well-hidden fraud of Lord Baelish. After further inquiry and meeting you personally, I am aware that you are the best candidate for the job and that is my Hand's strongest argument in your favour. One of the goals I set myself as I ascended the throne was to grant positions based on merit and abilities as much as possible. And as you stated, we are in dire need of a Master of Coin. For now, every member of the small council is making an effort to help keep the books up to date. It is not a good solution and nobody likes it when it is his turn. The Queen and I are included in these rotations and we, or rather I will speak for myself when I declare that I am always glad that it is time to hand them over to the next victim."
  
  Tyrion got more puzzled with every word the King uttered. When the young man paused, he couldn't help but blurt out. "That is no explanation as to why not. Quite the opposite actually, your Grace, uh Jon."
  
  "I apologize for the longwinded explanation. I was getting there. The reason I am still on the fence has to do with politics. You see, not so long ago, House Lannister lost its honour when it was revealed that they had cuckolded the Baratheon King for more than a decade. The Lannisters were expected to be punished severely and presumed to lose all their power and influence. However, except for Cersei Lannister's exile and Jaime Lannister being sentenced to the Wall, your house has not suffered. It has retained the position of Lord Paramount of the West and the ownership of Casterly Rock with all its farmlands and the rights to exploit the gold mines. Since I took the throne, your nephew has been legitimized as a trueborn Lord of House Lannister and is recognised as the next heir to Casterly Rock. Despite the circumstances of his birth, he will be named the next Lord Paramount. Your niece has recently married one of the most eligible bachelors in the realm."
  
  Tyrion watched the young King take a deep breath but this time he had learned his lesson and kept silent expecting that there was more to come. He picked up his cup and King Aegon followed suit. Tyrion had wisely opted for water when the King had offered refreshments upon his entrance to this study. The King had forgone the wine as well and had also chosen to let a young squire fill his cup with water before he ordered the two boys from the room. The very moment Tyrion put his cup back on the desk, King Aegon continued his reasoning.
  
  "Lord Varys informed me that there are countless rumours floating around started by disgruntled nobles that are questioning why a Targaryen King is so favourably inclined towards House Lannister. You see, they have been expecting your appointment as Master of Coin ever since you arrived in the capital and are not happy about it. They have been coming up with the vilest hypothesises. I won't repeat them all to you. One of the milder ones is that I took Lady Myrcella's maidenhead and that House Tyrell will be raising a Targaryen bastard."
  
  "And you bow to rumours, Jon? That does not sound like the young King I have come to admire and who just declared to have the ambition to grant positions based on merit."
  
  The young King shook his head. "It is not that simple, Tyrion. I wish it were. You see I think I can still get away with bestowing one more favour on House Lannister. We will quell the rumours. I am not sure however that I can get away with two."
  
  Tyrion digested this new given. He racked his brain and quickly came up with the obvious. He had received several letters from his brother at Castle Black. He wrote of Prince Rhaegar's son in the most respectful terms proclaiming him not only a great swordsman even if that alone was enough to earn his brother's respect, but he had also described the young man as someone wise for his age. Jaime had relayed to Tyrion how he had been forgiven for slaying King Aerys. He mentioned that the Targaryen Prince was even looking past the attempted murder of Brandon Stark to some degree. He had also described at length how down to earth the then future King had behaved with him and how at ease he was amongst the crudest members of the Free Folk and the simple foot soldiers. And all of that praise had been written before his brother had heard about the legitimisation of his children born of incest and the decisions that the Targaryen King had made in regards to their future. Now it seemed that this respect was mutual. He blurted out. "You want to pardon Jaime?"
  
  The young man in front of him looked sheepish when he replied. "Your brother is already distinguishing himself at Castle Black. He is using his military prowess to plan for the coming war against the dead. He will command a large part of our forces. If our side survives, I could proclaim Jaime Lannister a war hero. A royal pardon would not be such a long stretch from there. I might even fulfil your brother's wish and let him swear his sword to me again and reinstate him as a member of the royal guard. I have not decided yet, but I would prefer to keep my options open. Luckily, we have been able to keep the incident involving my young cousin at Winterfell under wraps or general opinion would declare me insane. I can't see a good solution to our predicament, Tyrion. If not for all I have mentioned, I would very much like to grant you a seat on my small council and have you keep those troublesome books. You are the most qualified candidate and you were right when you stated during dinner that we have the potential to become friends."
  
  Tyrion nodded and pondered the issue. "The way I see it, you have several options." He smiled when he saw the young King's expression lighten.
  
  "You do?"
  
  "If you are serious about your statement that you can defend granting one more appointment to House Lannister why not do so now? Let me take those books off your hands. I will swear to serve you faithfully. The war against the dead, as far as I could surmise from my brother's missives will keep him beyond the Wall for some time still, isn't that so?" He saw the understanding dawn on the face of the young man before him.
  
  "Yes, our last estimates are that it will take several moons perhaps even a full year before the enemy will engage us."
  
  "Either you proclaim from the start that I am only appointed on a temporary basis or you stay silent on the matter. Anyhow, I vow to step down should my brother survive and it becomes apparent that my position as a member of your small council hinders my brother's pardon. Chances are that the people won't care by then. Either way, you win."
  
  Jon nodded. "I'll confer with Davos and Sam and I'll let you know. Uncle Benjen will be grateful when the matter is resolved though."
  
  "Prince Benjen of House Stark? As far as I heard, he refused when being asked to be added to the rotation schedule to keep the books by quoting that he was no member of the small council yet."
  
  "You are well informed, Tyrion. But your source with the loose lips didn't tell you all. My uncle's exact words were, and I quote I am no member of the small council yet. Ned still has that honour, until then, best of luck. Ask me anything else and I'll do it gladly. end of quote." A naughty expression appeared on the young King's features.
  
  "Oh dear," Tyrion understood immediately, "I presume he overreached?"
  
  "Indeed. Davos has taken him up on his word and has gone to some trouble to find other tasks that the others abhor and has assigned these to Uncle Benjen. My uncle has already remarked several times that if my Hand keeps being so creative, he might come to regret his former decision and will help with the cursed books after all."
  
  "Then release the poor man from his suffering. Keeping books is child's play for me. Numbers are my friends. We enjoy spending time in each other's company." Tyrion knew he had convinced the Targaryen King when they exchanged smiles once more.
  
  "I am sure conferring with Sam and Davos will be a mere formality. I'll let you know, Tyrion. In any case, thank you for your loyalty and understanding. If I didn't let on already that I appreciate it, I take the opportunity to do so now."
  
  "Your trust and hopefully future friendship are all the reward I need, my King." Tyrion rose and bowed presuming that their interview had come to an end.
  
  "We are well underway to become friends then, Lord Lannister. I hope to have favourable tidings for you soon. But please, resume your seat. There are still a few things I would like to discuss with you."
  
  Tyrion had no choice but to sit back down. He could at least think of one subject the King wanted to tackle but he had thought that for this at least the young man would have wanted to have the support of his Hand or perhaps the rest of his small council. As predicted, the King came straight to the point and mentioned the reformed taxes on the gold mines.
  
  "Davos mentioned you have not officially agreed to the new decree we drafted on the taxes that House Lannister will need to pay in future in return for the rights of keeping the gold mines open. Are you intending on contesting them?"
  
  "I just wanted to hear how you intend to enforce them, your Grace. How will you know that the yield we put in our reports is accurate? In theory it sounds like a fair system, paying a percentage on the profit so that in meagre years we pay less. But such a system is easily taken advantage of."
  
  "Spoken as a true Master of Coin already. You raise a fair point. As a King I have of course many sources at my disposal to gather intelligence and surprise inspections will occur from time to time. Now that I know that you agree in principle, let us finalize the details of this matter with my Hand and Samwell Tarly present. Any suggestions you have are welcome of course."
  
  Tyrion nodded and picked up his cup again making it clear to the King that no suggestion would be forthcoming today.
  
  Jon nodded when he realised this. "Now to change the subject, have you considered marrying, Tyrion? My informants tell me you were courting Lady Roslin a while ago but no longer?"
  
  Tyrion raised one eyebrow hoping the gesture merely showed his mild surprise and didn't betray how much the fact that the King raised this particular topic had unsettled him for a moment. Of all the topics he had been prepared to discuss and show off his cleverness with, he hadn't expected this one. He took a calming breath. "I considered offering for her at one time when the financial situation of House Lannister was still uncertain. You have thorough informants it would seem, your Grace. The tax reform was my first clue. Somehow you seem to know already about our fortune reversal and are aware that we discovered a new vain in our formerly faltering goldmines?"
  
  When Jon nodded, Tyrion waved away the obvious apology that the slightly embarrassed young man seemed to have on the tip of his tongue and continued his explanation. "Seeing that I didn't need the generous dowry that Lord Frey offered any longer and that the Lady was visibly infatuated with another, I uh I didn't want to impose myself upon an unwilling female. To be completely honest, the realisation that I am ten years older and a dwarf might have had something to do with me getting cold feet as well. What happened to young Corbray, your Grace? I withdrew my attentions partly because even a blind man could see that she was infatuated with him."
  
  "He is only a younger son." Jon sighed. "I doubt her father will pay him her weight in gold. I'm truly sorry if I touched a sore point. Would you please drop the 'your Grace' bit again please?"
  
  Tyrion nodded reluctantly but kept silent and watched the young man struggle to formulate his next sentence.
  
  "Are you implying that now that House Lannister is solvent again, you prefer to stay celibate? That amazes me, if I am being truthful."
  
  "Because of my reputation of drinking and whoring?" Tyrion didn't beat about the bush as the young man before him did.
  
  Jon had the decency to look embarrassed. "I wouldn't put it so crudely but abstinence is not what I expected of you. I'm sorry if I offended you. Aside from your wishes, a man in your position must have had offers from several houses with eligible daughters."
  
  "And there are a lot of Freys. There I said it before you could make a joke about it. I hope you are asking all these questions because as a happily married man you want to spread the joy to others and not because there is a political motive behind your interrogation, your Grace?" Tyrion let the sarcasm drip from his tone now.
  
  Jon shook his head and held up his hand as a silent apology. "I was merely attempting to sketch the situation as a favour to the Queen. She is dealing with a distraught Lady-In-Waiting. Lady Roslin has been courted by several Lords and her half-brother Lord Stevron is uh indecisive shall we say. You being the highest born suitor had his preference but since you withdrew, he is considering the second most important one. That happens to be an older Lord from the Stormlands, twice widowed and rumoured to be a brute. Should she refuse, she will be sent back to her father to marry one of her uncles or cousins whichever Frey bachelor her father sees first the moment she sets foot in the Twins again."
  
  Tyrion shuffled in his seat. Once more the young man in front of him had surprised him, this time with his open and honest reaction. This wouldn't mean he would just do the young King's bidding though. "And you thought marrying her by force to an imp would be less cruel? I won't have my bride crying all the way to the altar, your Grace. Unless my King gives me no choice and orders me to comply. Is that the case?"
  
  "No." Jon sighed. "Tyrion, I was just trying to determine your reasons for withdrawing your attentions to the Lady. As far as I can tell you liked her at one time. She speaks fondly of you even though she didn't think of you as a future husband. What if you gave her the opportunity to get to know you better? Give the both of you a chance to find out whether she can see past your appearance and discover the kind, witty, intelligent man that you are. This talk is as far as my meddling will go, I promise."
  
  Tyrion still was not completely sold on the young man's apparent noble intentions. "And you have no ulterior political motive? Like dangling the position of Lord Paramount of the West before Walder Frey's ambitious, ugly nose? Make him think that his blood will rule the Westerlands only to throw into his face the moment that his grandson is born that I signed a decree that gives these rights to my nephew Lord Tommen of House Lannister, recognising his claim as superior to my children's and that I am merely a regent who will step down the moment that my nephew, the son of my older brother comes of age?"
  
  Jon startled. "You make it sound so devious. I admit that I would enjoy seeing House Frey being taken down a notch. If only you knew the vile details of Walder Frey's plot to take down both House Stark and House Targaryen. It is true that it would give me great pleasure to thwart his ambitions. I won't lie and tell you differently. But the main reason for bringing this up is because I promised Daenerys that I would look into the matter. Lady Roslin is a sweet Lady and the Queen wishes her well. If you prefer, I can arrange for you to speak to the Queen directly?"
  
  "That won't be necessary, Jon. Let me sleep on this. To avoid misunderstandings, whatever I decide to do is separate from what we discussed earlier?"
  
  "Of course. That decision was based on merit." Jon gave him a small smile, glad that the man had stopped calling him by his title again. "I think I went about this meeting the wrong way. At least for as far as the order of bringing up topics is concerned. I am usually better at this. I should have tackled this delicate rather personal topic last. Are you still willing to do me a political favour after all this?"
  
  "That depends, Jon. Do I need to compromise the values of my house or my personal freedom for this favour?"
  
  Jon was relieved to see that Tyrion accompanied his sarcastic words with a small smile. "No, nothing like that, unless you prefer Stannis Baratheon over me."
  
  Tyrion sat up straighter. "I didn't deign to reply to his demand to bend the knee."
  
  "I want you to send him a reply." Jon leaned forward now. "How would you feel about answering him that it is too dangerous for House Lannister to openly support his claim for now? Explain that you are hanging on to your position by a thread, but that you will think of a way to stall and not call your banners when the Targaryen pretender asks you to. Promise him that you will bend the knee to him gladly when he takes his rightful throne. Of course all of this would be kept strictly between us for now."
  
  Tyrion frowned. "That is asking me to trust you not to use that against me later. To someone not privy to this conversation, I could be perceived as a traitor to the Crown."
  
  "That is correct. I am asking you to trust me. The only assurance I can give you is that my Hand, my Queen, Prince Oberyn and Lord Varys will be in the know. As soon as you give your consent to participate in this scheme, a few of us will meet and draft the reply together."
  
  "As soon as I agree to write this letter to Lord Stannis, not to the other things." Tyrion asked again to be sure.
  
  Jon sighed. "All issues we discussed are independent of one another, Tyrion. I am half Stark, partly raised by one. My Targaryen father was also an honourable man I have been told. If we intend to work together, you will have to start trusting my word. I thought we were on the verge of becoming friends?"
  
  "We are, your Grace, uh Jon. This is just my analytical mind that always searches for vulnerabilities in every plot uh plan. Your word is good enough for me. Of course it is. And now that I am coming back to my senses, allow me to apologize. My only excuse is that all that talk of possibly marrying Lady Roslin had me off balance for a while. I owe you several debts. Or better, my house owes yours several debts. And a Lannister always pays them. I'll agree to send the reply to Stannis and what is more, if it doesn't displease the Lady and it pleases you and the Queen, then I am prepared to offer for Lady Roslin's hand."
  
  "We agreed that you and Lady Roslin could try and find some common ground first. I would prefer to leave that particular issue unresolved for now."
  
  "Thank you, Jon." Tyrion hesitated to say more. But the young man apparently was a keen study of moods.
  
  "You have another question. Some other doubt or flaw in a scheme to warn me about?"
  
  "No, it is just, uh, you mentioned a possible pardon for my brother but stayed silent on the fate of my sister. We never had much of a relationship and Cersei refuses to write to me. But you see, she stopped writing to her children after we announced Myrcella's betrothal to her by letter. Tommen and Myrcella, they worry about her. Do you happen to know how she is doing?"
  
  Jon pursed his lips. "She is not the model hostage. That is for sure. I will let you read the latest report that I received from Lady Maege of House Mormont. They send me one every moon. You'll receive a copy of it tomorrow."
  
  "Thank you, Jon. One day I hope we can play a game of cyvasse together." Tyrion bowed his head, this time sure that his audience was over. The moment he stepped into the hallway, a feeling of triumph came over him despite himself. Just imagine, Tyrion the imp, the one his own father gave no larger responsibility than overseeing the sewer system of Casterly Rock would be officially appointed to the small council of the new Targaryen regime and handle the Crown's finances. And perhaps he would marry a kind bride after all. More importantly, Jaime most likely would be allowed to come south again, his honour fully restored. That was something he hadn't seen coming. Neither did he see the young boy that ran him over while he was still in the midst of congratulating himself.
  
  "Ouch, boy. Watch where you are going." He rubbed the spot on his head where they had collided.
  
  He was surprised when the perpetrator offered him his hand to pull him up. "Sorry, Lord Tyrion, I mean Lord Lannister. I was in a hurry and didn't pay attention to where I was going. I wanted to tell Jon what Gendry has m-, never mind. Is Jon in there?"
  
  "King Aegon is in his study, yes." Tyron concealed his mirth when he realised that he had been floored by Princess Arya. He put on a formal expression wanting to give her a little payback. "Have you been granted a private audience with his Grace so soon? I had to wait several days for mine, you see."
  
  "You mean his White Cloaks won't let me in?" She asked disbelievingly.
  
  "Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning and Rosby have their orders, Princess." Tyrion kept a straight face.
  
  "He'll see me. I am his best friend and first cousin. And I come bearing really important news." Her tone was a little less confident though.
  
  Tyrion raised his eyebrow. "You might need more than words and puppy eyes to persuade his Cerberuses. Did you bring coin or wine?"
  
  Ser Arthur standing further back behind Arya looked over her head into Tyrion's eyes and shook his head in an admonishing fashion. Tyrion detected the mirth shining in the knight's eyes though when the Kingsguard spoke up. "Lord Tyrion, please clear the hallway. No trespassing by unauthorised persons. Or do I need to draw Dawn?"
  
  "Oh can I see, Ser?" Arya turned around ignoring Tyrion Lannister and faced Ser Arthur. "Is it really milk white and as light as Valyrian Steel?"
  
  Ser Arthur drew his sword out of his scabbard but did not release its pommel. He eyed the corridor and gestured to Rosby to stay vigilant. Arya took her time examining the rare sword.
  
  "Now Princess, if you will wait here a moment, if you please?" He sheathed Dawn and knocked twice on the closed door. He opened it slightly and spoke loudly. "Your Grace? Princess Arya of House Stark requests an audience. She has a pressing matter of state to discuss and not an instant to lose. She hurried here not minding peril or obstacles even slaying an imp in the process. I strongly urge that you drop whatever you are doing and grant her an audience."
  
  "Jon!" Not waiting any longer Arya pushed the door further open. "Jon, can I see you?"
  
  "If your eyes are still working, I believe that you should be seeing me already." He rose from his chair and gestured to Ser Arthur to close the door. "Now what has Gendry been doing? You should lower your voice when you talk about state secrets, my favourite cousin." But he smiled when she hugged him as soon as he had circled his desk. "How about I take my coat and we visit the forge together?"
  
  The next few days, many decisions were made. Prince Eddard Stark formally handed his seat on the small council over to his younger brother. He was set to travel with his wife to Riverrun in a few days' time to grant Princess Catelyn the opportunity to be with her father during his last sennights before he inevitably succumbed to his illness. Prince Benjen of House Stark and Lord Tyrion of House Lannister appointments to the small council were formally announced before the Court effective immediately.
  
  The next announcement was the appointment of Princess Sansa of House Stark, Lady Ilsa of House Ruthermont and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell as Ladies-in-Waiting to Queen Daenerys. With these appointments the Queen considered her entourage complete. During that same court session, Rayford Rosby and Edwyd Fossoway were knighted by the King and Ser Gerold formally cloaked Ser Rayford with the White Cloak of the Kingsguard and Ser Edwyd with the Black and Red one of the Dragonguard. Ser Jorah was promoted to Commander of the Dragonguard. Mention was made that there were still several open positions and new candidates were welcome to come forward. Ser Gerold would hold auditions in seven days' time.
  
  Interlude 43: Destiny
  
  Bran closed his eyes and felt Ghost entering the confines of the Godswood. He opened his eyes again and with a short glance ordered Summer to stay put. "They will come to us." He whispered mostly to himself. He knew he had avoided his cousin for as long has he could afford. He had dreaded this conversation and had put it off until the last moment. Now there was no avoiding it anymore. His trunk was packed. Lord Reed had their escort all sorted out. Tomorrow they would travel to the Neck and from there Bran would set out with an armed escort and Meera Reed to the Wall and beyond. A whine made him look up. 'You are coming as well, Summer.' He sent the thought to his faithful companion.
  
  These last few sennights at the Red Keep he had written more than thirty short letters to his mother, falsifying the dates systematically moving a fortnight further into the future with each message. That way he could conceal for a long period of time his exact whereabouts. He planned to write a few more until he disappeared behind the Wall. Nothing was certain after that. He had seen several visions and knew part of what was to happen to him. And now it was time to tell his cousin.
  
  The prophesized saviour was the only one that he was going to reveal the entire truth to. He knew that Lord Reed suspected a great deal but not the full extent of it. The young King would take it hard and would need time to come to terms with it all. That was one of the reasons why Bran had put it off as long as possible. The days of blissful ignorance for his cousin were coming to an end. These days, Bran often pondered the meaning of life and the justice of it all. Why was he the chosen one? Why was Jon burdened with such a dangerous role? Smallfolk who lived and died their lives on a small stretch of land with just enough food and clothing to get by were much better off than the young King and his younger cousin. But the Gods had decided and if he dared to refuse or Jon turned his back on his destiny, the entire realm was doomed and even the most insignificant servant would no longer have the chance to get up and complain to all and sundry about the poor cards he had been dealt in life.
  
  Summer's ears peaked up. Soon after, Ghost and his human stood before Bran's feet.
  
  "Hello Bran. Ghost and I caught you daydreaming. Is now all right to talk?"
  
  Bran nodded and watched Jon unstrap his sword belt and lay Blackfyre between them. "The direwolves can go and play near the entrance. That way they will still be able to alert us if someone is approaching."
  
  Jon nodded and looked at Ghost. Both wolves took off in a flash.
  
  "You will need to forge another one, identical to this one." Bran proclaimed without lifting his eyes from the spot where the Valyrian sword lay safely in its scabbard."
  
  "For me to wield?"
  
  "Yes. Carry two when you face him. Make sure Gendry uses his best batch to forge it."
  
  "I will, Bran. Howland Reed told me you had more advice and would explain some things to me as well?"
  
  "Yes." Bran felt old when he looked at his cousin. His mind felt at least a lifetime older than the young man before him. Never mind the fact that he himself only counted eleven namedays. The knowledge the Gods had forced on him made him wiser than Maester Aemon at the Wall had been before he passed away. At the very least he was more knowledgeable about the things that mattered in regards to the fight to come.
  
  Before we start to discuss the Great War, I need to warn you about the Rebellion in the South. Stannis Baratheon and Euron Greyjoy are setting up a trap. Don't fall for it. They will carry a white flag but will not honour it. Take precautions, Jon. And don't hesitate to use trickery yourself if necessary. Even if you are confident that you have the numbers, they will go for your weak spot. Your enemy will use dark magic against you. Focus your mind and keep your direwolf and dragons close. Combine your strength with theirs."
  
  "How do I do that? Do you know what kind of magic they will use?" Jon asked a bit bewildered.
  
  "I told you all I know, Jon. I would not withhold information on purpose. I am on your side." Bran promised solemnly.
  
  "I know that. I trust no one more than you, Bran. Can you tell me more?" Jon asked a bit calmer now.
  
  "You know more than I do about your own abilities, Jon. You have been looking for ways to embrace your magic while fighting for some time now." Bran said in a flat tone.
  
  "You mean, the trance I experience? Is that my magic, that feeling of time slowing down, of righteousness that comes over me? The fact that I see every move of my opponent more clearly and all doubts leave me because I know that my next move is exactly the right one?" Jon was getting more animated again.
  
  "Like I said, you know more about it than I do. And that is how it should be." Bran confirmed quietly.
  
  Jon looked a little disappointed at that statement. "Lord Reed told me you would be able to advise me."
  
  Bran nodded thoughtfully. "This is the advice I can give you. Make sure you avoid as much bloodshed as possible in your southern war. Forget honour if trickery can get you better results. All blood that flows into the earth can be used by the Great Other to draw energy and enhance his strength."
  
  "The Great Other?"
  
  "That is how the Gods call the most powerful Other or White Walker. I believe Samwell Tarly came up with the term Night King. Old Nan spoke of the Others. Well their leader is the Great Other. As I understand it, the awaking of the Night King was actually the moment that a deity allied himself with the creature you call the Night King. That is why this White Walker leads the other ones."
  
  Jon frowned deep in thought. After a while he remarked. "So we must avoid blood flowing into the earth. I suppose you mean that literally. Should we then go about burning our enemies to ashes or drowning them?"
  
  "Burning is best if the fire is so hot that it only leaves ashes behind. Drowning is not fool proof. The body can be torn apart by large predators, sharks or whales and the spilled blood can still penetrate the earth beneath the sea."
  
  Jon swallowed but nodded. Burning people by dragonfire until only ashes remained, not something he looked forward to do.
  
  Bran heard the conflict in his cousin's tone. "You did well so far, Jon. You have been crowned peacefully. I have had visions that showed me possible futures where at least half of the population of Westeros was wiped out before a righteous leader was crowned after Robert Baratheon's demise. The Gods are hopeful."
  
  Jon did not dwell on the fact that that the way Bran phrased his words so carefully, implied that there had been outcomes possible with someone else on the throne. He focussed on what was pertinent in the reality they lived now. "Even if Howland, I mean Lord Reed stopped seeing the future?"
  
  "That is partly due to the Great Other. In this reality he is also being more patient and playing the game well. For now, you balance each other out and nobody, not even the Gods can predict what will happen. That is why we must raise our effort still. Ever since the Gods started to take a more active part, the stakes have been raised on both sides of the conflict."
  
  Jon stared at Bran for a while. "That is the reason you want to learn from the Children of the Forest?"
  
  "I don't want to. I have to." Bran corrected his older cousin. For once his voice sounded more like his younger self. "I need to develop a third eye, Jon. To do that I will need to develop my magic. And I will have to give myself over to a power that is as ancient as it is unpredictable. I can't promise you that I will still be Brandon Stark after I have done that. I can't even be sure that my body will be able to survive south of the Wall after my transformation. It is very much possible that I will need a certain magic to keep on living. Magic that can only exist beyond the Wall. The only thing I know for sure is that I will lose my eyesight. I will be able to see the past, the present and if we grow more powerful than the Great Other, the future again as well. I will be able to see and witness places in all corners of the universe, known to us and beyond. But I will never see them as a normal human being again. I will always have to see it all with my mind, with my third eye, so to speak."
  
  "And there is no other way, Bran? Are you certain you are not misinterpreting a vision or mistaking a dream, a nightmare for a vision?" Jon urged him, his voice betraying how desperately he wished for his cousin to have it wrong.
  
  Bran looked at his cousin who was a big blur in front of him. "It has already started, Jon. My eyesight is growing poorer each day. Soon I will need a guide to prevent myself from bumping into objects. I've seen myself ride Summer on my journey north. I shall borrow his eyes often. I am a powerful warg, Jon. I can borrow eyes of any animal I see fit."
  
  "Can you tell me how much time we still have before the Great Other is ready to face us?"
  
  Bran sensed immediately that that was one of the most pressing concerns on his cousin's mind. "Time is perceived differently by the Great Other. I would venture that he has tremendous patience but that is not the right way of presenting this. On one occasion, he drew me into his mind and I experienced that time did not exist in this magical bubble that he created and hides in for now. In there, his wights are frozen in time and do not deteriorate further. He will make a move when he believes he is ready or when he can no longer draw enough power to sustain his magical hideaway. The Children of the Forest warned me that he could be ready within ten to twelve moons and they repeat their summons to come north each night in my dreams. I need to be trained and that takes time."
  
  "Ten to twelve moons," Jon repeated the words as if they were a gift. And Bran gave him a small apologetic smile while shrugging his shoulders as if to say that Jon's guess was as good as his. Jon sighed. "If the Great Other was able to draw you into his mind, will you be able to do the same if you grow stronger than him?"
  
  Bran nodded and analysed Jon's tone closely. He appreciated the fact that his cousin was still able to think about this in a calm and logical manner even though he could clearly hear how rattled the young man before him was. "That is a possibility. We hope that somehow I can distract him in his ultimate fight against you. But much needs to happen before you can get to him in the first place. He will have an army of at least a hundred thousand wights and magical creatures and will keep throwing them at you. You will need to find a way to eliminate the White Walkers as soon as possible before many of the living perish. Each person that dies fighting is a new recruit unless you can isolate your fallen soldiers from the living and burn them to ashes before one of the Walkers reanimates them."
  
  "Have you seen details of the battle? What weapons we use, traps, tricks, anything useful?"
  
  "I know that Lannister has drawings of most of the tactics I have seen. He designed several war machines with dragonglass. Upgrade them with Valyrian Steel if you have the opportunity. I'll send you drawings if I think I see something nobody has come up with yet. Listen to Lannister's strategies. You'll receive a long letter soon."
  
  "I can't imagine sending southern armies to the Wall in great numbers will help us. Many will perish due to the harsh environment alone. Have you any advice to offer on that?"
  
  "You are thinking the right way, Jon. Don't doubt yourself. The goal of uniting the Seven Kingdoms under your rule was to avoid bloodshed. If the Gods had allowed Baratheon's fake heirs without actual King's blood to rule, an era of infighting would have started and hundreds of thousands would have perished and their blood wood have empowered your enemy. As long as you can keep the peace in the South, use the Free Folk, the armies of the Northern Lords and only your strongest warriors from the other Kingdoms for the Great War. You'll do just fine, Jon. Don't forget you are surrounded by good advisers. Use them."
  
  "I consider you a vital adviser as well, Bran. How will we communicate once you have left? Now that we know that the heart trees can be used by the Night King, that option is out."
  
  "Ghost and Summer have a bond. I hope that it will reach beyond the Wall. We'll exchange thoughts through our direwolves. If that fails, either I will send ravens the traditional way or I'll try to steer an eagle or another bird your way. When in doubt, watch their eyes. You'll sense it is me the moment you make eye contact. Trust in the Gods as well. I pray they will send you visions if my efforts to reach you fail. The Children of the Forest tell me that the Gods have never before been so willing to help the realm as they are now."
  
  Jon nodded and moved closer to his cousin so he could put his arm around the boy's small shoulders. "I wish things were different for you, Bran. I admire greatly how you are so calm about all of this."
  
  Bran leaned into Jon relishing the warmth of human affection perhaps for one of the last times. "For the good of the many, Jon, you know the saying."
  
  "Still, it doesn't make your sacrifice any less admirable. You are a hero, Bran. If we survive the Great War, the realm will learn an edited version of the role you played. And I will leave no stone unturned to find a way to give you your life back."
  
  Bran nodded and stayed still against his cousin's warm body. It was no use arguing about things that were destined to happen. Jon would come to understand this when the time was there. They needed to concentrate on defeating the Great Other first anyway. If not, his survival, his humanity was the least of Jon's problems. All the people in all the Kingdoms and even in all the territories beyond the great seas were doomed if Jon didn't focus all his energy to play his part. Bran would need to do the same. They had no choice really. It was as simple as that.
  
  Bran trusted in his cousin's abilities and perseverance now more than before. This talk had gone better than he had feared. His cousin had stuck to the subject and had quickly grasped the things Bran had only vaguely hinted at. He hadn't asked silly questions that were beside the point like for instance how many children he and Dany would have and what gender they would be. Nor had he asked about the destination of the third dragon egg or other minor matters. For the first time since the Children of the Forest and the Gods had revealed his destiny, Bran had faith that humanity still stood a chance. Together with his cousin, they would bring their best. The Great Other would face the two of them united. And they would use every tool they had. Be it dragons, direwolves, allies, Valyrian Steel or all the tricks and magic they could conjure up. With a bit of luck and help from the Old Gods, the Seven and the Lord of Light who seemed to have set aside their petty rivalry for now, the living would prevail.
  
  "Bran?" Jon interrupted his musings. His cousin waited until Bran opened his eyes and nodded.
  
  "Is there still time for me to fetch Sam? I need to discuss this with him. He has a unique way of looking at things and might think of something. I'd like him to hear the account first hand."
  
  "From me?" Bran's question sounded flat once more.
  
  "Yeah, if you're willing?" Jon was prepared to forego this for Bran's sake. His cousin only had to say the word.
  
  "There is no need. Just tell him that should we survive, he must write a book about the Long Night and send copies to the Citadel, several to the North and one to each Lord Paramount. We need to prevent that the next long winter humanity is as clueless as we would have been without the help of the Gods. Tell him that it is no use sending someone to the Citadel for more books on the Long Night. You will not find anything you haven't found already. Prince Rhaegar brought all still existing written information to Dragonstone and Sam has combed through those books and scrolls already. He and I spoke at length while you were on your honeymoon."
  
  "All right." Jon got up and held out his hand to his young cousin.
  
  Bran looked at it with a blank expression and spoke calmly. "I almost forgot. Be careful, Jon. The Night King knows that the Prince That Was Promised exists once more. He is looking for you. Just as you believe destroying him is the key to winning, he harbours the same belief about you."
  
  While Jon nodded at his younger cousin, Ghost and Summer ran up to them ready to escort their humans safely to the big stone dwelling.
  
  End notes:
  
  Hold your horses: The appointments of Lady Margaery as Lady-in-Waiting and Ser Brienne as a Dragonguard instead of a Kingsguard will be 'explained' in the coming chapter(s).
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The delicate art of communication
  Chapter 44: The delicate art of communication
  
  Summary:
  
  Princess Catelyn makes the most of her time at the royal Court in her own way. Jon juggles many things and his diplomatic skills get tested time and again. In the interlude House Baratheon takes center stage.
  
  Notes:
  
  Before some of you make a very pertinent remark, let me quickly state that I used my artistic license once more and aged Shireen Baratheon slightly. She is a maiden, flowered and in this medieval society, fit to be betrothed.
  
  Once more I posted an unbeta'd chapter. Enjoy the new chapter.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  "Mother, let me ask the Queen first. You can't barge into her Grace's living quarters without a formal invitation," Sansa whispered, standing in the hallway in front of the door of the Queen's sitting room. It was the first time since the kidnapping attempt that all seven Ladies-in-waiting were attending their Queen. They were sitting together talking quietly and embroidering, except for Queen Daenerys. The Queen had a sketchbook on her lap, a pencil in her right hand.
  
  "This may well be my last opportunity to join you all before I leave for the Riverlands." Her mother whispered back not giving way that easily.
  
  "Princess Sansa, is there a problem?" The Queen spoke loudly enough for Princess Catelyn to hear her words on the other side of the door that stood slightly ajar.
  
  Sansa quickly made her way back inside. "My mother, Princess Catelyn of House Stark, kindly requests permission to join us here, your Grace."
  
  "The Princess and her husband will be leaving us soon, I heard. Please tell my Aunt that she can join us this morning. Ask the servants to serve fresh tea if you please, Princess Sansa."
  
  "Thank you, your Grace." Sansa curtsied and hurried back to the hallway.
  
  Her mother swept into the room before Sansa could utter a single word. Sansa rolled her eyes behind her mother's back. It also instantly dawned on her that getting better acquainted with the other ladies would have to wait for another occasion. Her mother's presence would surely make things awkward and formal. There would be no addressing the Queen by her first name now. Also, Lady Shireen would not be resuming her story. She had been in the midst of telling them how her walk with her cousin Lord Baratheon had been interrupted by Lord Bolton who they all considered her unofficial suitor. Sansa quickly ordered a young servant girl to send word to the kitchen that the Queen required a fresh pot of tea and an extra cup before following her mother inside.
  
  As she was closing the door, she heard Queen Daenerys address her mother. "Princess Catelyn, please take the seat Lady Margaery was kind enough to free for you. That way we can speak at leisure." Sansa regretted that she had missed the deferential curtsy her mother had been obliged to make upon entering the room. She smiled however when she saw her mother make another elegant curtsy while she thanked the Queen.
  
  Princess Catelyn installed herself in the seat that she probably considered hers by right as the second highest ranked person in the room. Keeping her back straight, her mother sat to the Queen's right with her head held high. Lady Ashara was the only one whose chair was equally close the Queen since she occupied the chair on her left. The other Ladies-in-waiting were seated a bit further away in the part of the room that was better illuminated by the natural light of the sun. Most of the patterns that they were embroidering were so fine that they could use the extra light.
  
  Her mother coldly dipped her head in Lady Ashara's direction and then turned to where Sansa and the other Ladies were seated. The nod towards their group was more cordial. Sansa had heard the rumours of her father's supposed crush on Lady Ashara before his betrothal to her mother. How could she not? Ever since both Ladies had appeared in public in the throne room and had been formally reacquainted, she had overheard titbits of conversations revolving around the three of them. Sometimes Uncle Benjen was also included in the gossip. It had even affected her father. Before, or so she had been told, Prince Stark had treated Lady Ashara in a kind, be it somewhat awkward manner whenever they were in each other's company, which happened rather often. Now he was more reserved when he spoke to Lady Dayne in his wife's presence. Sansa did not understand her mother's attitude. Clearly Father loved Mother dearly and would always remain faithful. Her father was honourable to a fault and besides, it had been so many years ago.
  
  As protocol dictated, everyone waited for the Queen to start up the conversation again which Daenerys did after an uncomfortable pause. "I am glad you decided to join us this morning, Princess Catelyn. I was sorry to hear about the ill health of your father, Lord Hoster of House Tully. I understand that you will need to leave soon to join him at Riverrun and I regret that we will not have more time to get to know each other better. The King speaks highly of you and lets me read small parts of your letters to him. I hope you don't mind, Princess. I enjoy the stories of your children's interactions. I grew up rather lonely."
  
  Twice mention of her title of Princess already. Daenerys was playing her mother masterfully. Sansa reckoned Jon must have informed her that such was the best way to get into her mother's good graces.
  
  "Of course I do not mind, your Grace. And I am sorry to hear about your childhood. If ever you are in need of motherly advice, don't hesitate to come to me. I've been raising five children." Sansa saw her mother lean closer to the Queen but could still make out every word that her mother whispered next. "That means five successful pregnancies. I am an expert on the matter. I reckon it is too soon to know whether you are with child?"
  
  Sansa saw Daenerys stiffen and Lady Ashara's face darken. Before Lady Ashara could say something that might offend her mother, Sansa intervened. "I am grateful that Arya and I are allowed to stay here, while Mother and Father travel, your Grace."
  
  Her mother's expression dimmed a little. "Of course, Sansa. The Queen obviously has need of you. And Arya, well to be honest, I have to admit that the youngest princess of the North is not the most patient person, certainly not the optimal choice to bring to a dying man's bedside."
  
  Sansa nodded her head remembering how long and how fervently her father had needed to debate the issue before her mother had relented. Now she made it sound like such a logical decision. "My younger sister is very grateful to you, Mother."
  
  "As am I, Aunt Catelyn." The Queen chimed in, this time stressing their familial bond. Then she addressed Sansa. "Might I ask what you have created from the exquisite blue-green fabric that Aegon gave you some time ago?" Sansa admired how Daenerys closed the previous topic by finding an innocent subject that was sure to divert and excite her mother.
  
  "The King was very kind in offering such a rare fabric to Princess Sansa. She made the most exquisite ball gown from it." Her mother answered before Sansa could, stressing the fact that the young King had showered House Stark in gifts even before the rest of the Kingdoms knew he existed. "Sansa is very proficient with a needle, your Grace. Please feel free to use her services any way that pleases you. You won't regret it."
  
  "Princess Sansa has been showing us a few embroidering techniques, we were all unfamiliar with," Lady Ashara spoke up for the first time.
  
  Sansa held her breath when she saw her mother's face freeze and she bit her lip. The Queen however either not aware that something was amiss between her guest and her leading Lady or being a masterful mummer, smiled benevolently at her mother before addressing Sansa. "Princess Sansa, may I insist that you wear this mystery gown when you attend the stately banquet that we will hold in honour of your parents the night before they leave?"
  
  Sansa exhaled quietly and nodded. "I will be happy to do so, your Grace. I had been waiting for the right occasion to wear it in public for the first time. Normally I would have worn it to your wedding but..."
  
  "The King and I thought it strengthened the rule of House Targaryen if we didn't delay. The first sennights things were rather tentative politically speaking. I am sorry that you both missed the ceremony." The Queen was quick to intervene.
  
  Sansa wondered whether this was an excuse that Jon and his advisers had come up with to placate all the nobles that couldn't attend or if it was the truth. She had not heard of any unrest but then again, she had not expected to arrive only a day after a serious kidnapping attempt on the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had been thwarted. She had learned that the famous Ser Barristan the Bold had died defending his Queen so there must have been real danger involved.
  
  "We understand," her mother saw her chance to assert herself once more. "At least my husband represented our house. I heard he was given the honour to officiate the Godswood wedding."
  
  "You had a Godswood wedding as well?" Lady Ilsa of House Ruthermont exclaimed, and all heads turned to the Queen.
  
  Sansa bit her lip and was embarrassed in her mother's stead. In order to underline to all present how important a role her husband had played in a wedding ceremony that people in the south including her mother looked down upon, she had exposed the King's true religion. When she noticed that her mother was about to speak up and, in all probability, would make matters worse, she frowned at her mother and shook her head slightly. Her mother understood in the nick of time and to Sansa's immense relief stayed quiet.
  
  Daenerys however played the true Queen. She righted herself proudly. "We wanted to appease all our subjects. The Northern Kingdom still worships the Old Gods. We had a small wedding ceremony in the Godswood here in King's Landing. Prince Stark, your husband, as a devout worshipper of the Old Gods was the best placed to officiate." The Queen smiled but Sansa detected a hint of retaliation behind the politely uttered words.
  
  Lady Margaery spoke up for the first time. "How romantic! Princess Catelyn, then am I right in presuming that you did the same thing? Had two weddings I mean, if your husband is such a fervent follower of the Old Gods?"
  
  Sansa saw her mother pale before her eyes knowing full well that her mother had not done her husband that courtesy. If it weren't her mother who was being put on the spot, she would have applauded Lady Margaery's cunning to grasp the opportunity to call Princess Catelyn out on such hypocritical, snobbish behaviour.
  
  "It was war time," her mother replied vaguely and refused to elaborate. Sansa was glad when Lady Ashara quickly changed the subject.
  
  "How is your brother holding up, Princess Catelyn? It must be hard for Lord Edmure to take over the running of the Riverlands and care for his sick father at the same time."
  
  Sansa saw her mother exhale deeply. Now she had to choose the lesser evil. For the first time in Sansa's presence, her mother acknowledged a question of Lady Ashara and started to explain that her brother had received help by way of a visit of her uncle, Lord Brynden of House Tully, adding how grateful they all were that her uncle had quickly left King's Landing as soon as word of Lord Tully's rapidly declining health had reached him.
  
  Sansa let the Queen, Lady Ashara and her mother carry on with their talk and joined the other Ladies-in-waiting who had subtly changed the angles of their chairs and were talking quietly together. She had feared that her mother would snub Lady Ashara. The only time that her mother had ever mentioned Lady Ashara within her hearing had been yesterday and not by design. Sansa had been walking toward her quarters when she heard her mother shout at her father that Ashara Dayne was no proper Lady. She was a fallen woman that had tried to steal her husband. The last thing that Sansa had heard her father say before he had shut the door of the room where the argument was ongoing, was that he was not betrothed to her yet the only time ever he had shared a dance with Lady Dayne and even then it had been because his brother Brandon had insisted.
  
  When she had asked Lady Margaery earlier this morning whether she knew more about Lady Ashara's life before she came to King's Landing, Lady Margaery had shrugged her shoulders and said that the only person in the Reach that she had ever heard speaking ill of Lady Ashara had been her late grandmother and that that was probably proof that Lady Ashara was a good person. She had warned Sansa not give too much credit to court gossip. Margaery had warned her that here everyone vied for power and the best way to rise above others was to discredit them. Sansa had been taken aback by Lady Margaery's bitter tone and had quickly changed the topic.
  
  She focused her attention back on her companions when she heard Shireen resume her tale of what had happened next after Lord Bolton had been introduced to Lord Baratheon, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. If they didn't have an opportunity to get to know the Queen better for now, the Ladies-in-waiting could at least use this occasion to befriend each other a bit more.
  
  "Do you mind if I take a seat, your Grace? We have more to discuss than a simply morning briefing."
  
  Jon gave his Hand a welcoming smile. "Of course, Davos. You don't have to ask and please call me Jon. The doors of my study have fallen shut."
  
  Davos took a seat and folded his hands. "I gather that Ser Gerold had nothing of importance to report during his short briefing? When is he going to fill in the two remaining Kingsguard positions?"
  
  "We still think alike, Davos. I just handed him an ultimatum. If he doesn't give me two names by the day after tomorrow, I will intrude on the training sessions of the recruits once again and personally pick out two."
  
  "You should have thought of that earlier." Davos remarked clearly satisfied.
  
  "You as my Hand should have pointed out that possibility to me sooner," Jon shot back and both men grinned easing the slight tension in the room.
  
  "A point in your favour, son. Now first let's see what is scheduled for today. Is the Queen still otherwise engaged the entire morning?"
  
  Jon nodded. "We agreed to lunch in private though to uh compensate. Lunch will be served for us in our sitting room."
  
  "Then we have time to tackle a few more issues this morning. You have no formal appointments the entire morning except for dealing with me. For this afternoon, I scheduled two audiences: a short one with Lord Renly of House Baratheon and a longer one with your eldest Stark uncle, Prince Eddard. This evening the Queen has planned a private supper with your family."
  
  "If she did not already, then include Shireen, Gendry, Sam and yourself this time, Davos. I consider you all my family too."
  
  Davos nodded. "I suggest you inform the Queen during your luncheon so she can have the servants alter the seating arrangements. Now, we have a lot to discuss. Shall we start with going over what we will reveal to Lord Renly this afternoon? I trust that you will want me present for this audience?"
  
  Jon sighed. "When will you forgive me for tackling more than we agreed upon during my audience with Lord Tyrion?"
  
  "I am your Hand. I'd like to think that I should hear your motives, before you explain them to an outsider."
  
  "I talked to you about considering a pardon for Jaime Lannister," Jon defended himself.
  
  "That you did, son. But may I remind you that we were still in a 'brainstorming' phase. We had not found common ground yet. And next thing I hear, you all but promised to Lannister's next of kin your intent of pardoning him and restoring his honour completely. You know that not only me but also other members of your small council have cautioned you. How can you claim such to be just? He committed a more serious crime than his twin sister whom you have withering away on Bear Island." When Jon's head shot up, Davos added admonishingly. "Yeah, I read a copy of the latest report, the very one that you gave to Lord Tyrion without consulting with me first. How do you think Lady Maege of House Mormont will feel when she learns that her correspondence with her King is read by House Lannister?"
  
  "The copy was not a faithful one. I polished a few less than polite expressions." Jon defended himself.
  
  "Still," Davos didn't let up. "The fact that you acted without consulting me..."
  
  "Was accidental. I didn't intend to bring up the subject of his sister. Tyrion Lannister did. I saw no harm."
  
  "You could have stalled."
  
  "Why? I am the King. It was not an unreasonable request and I just told you that the copy I gave him was a censured one. I had the more sensitive parts edited."
  
  "All right. What's done is done anyway. But how do you justify thinking about pardoning Jaime Lannister and not improving Cersei's living conditions?"
  
  "Have you ever talked to Lord Varys about her actions during Robert's reign? And I am not speaking about the adultery and the false heirs that they wanted to put on the throne. Varys has proof that she ordered people killed without the King knowing, without either trial or justification. At times she did that only because she bore a petty, personal grudge. Her eldest son Joffrey, I was told, was even worse. They feared that he was headed toward madness. And Queen Cersei condoned, sometimes even encouraged his cruel actions. There is one incident that sometimes haunts my dreams. Prince Oberyn saw fit to complete my education on real live in the Capital by telling me in graphic detail how a moons' old baby had been ripped from his mother's breast and was stabbed to death before the young mother's eyes only because the child was fathered by King Robert and as such, 'Queen' Cersei considered him a threat to her incestuous bastard's claim."
  
  "And you believe these tales, Jon?"
  
  Jon stared Davos down. "These are no tales. And I believe that you knew or suspected all along. Why else did you bring Gendry to us shortly before we embarked on my rite of passage?"
  
  "I didn't know for sure that Cersei Lannister was the instigator," Davos defended himself. He sighed. "I should have though. If only I had given it some further thought. I preferred to repress memories of such cruelty." He conceded and hung his head slightly.
  
  "Varys has proof," Jon answered in a clipped tone.
  
  Davos lifted his head and looked his King straight in the eye. "I believe you, son. But in future, talk to me. I know full well that you are the King and are allowed to make decision on your own, but whenever possible, talk to me first. Else, I do not know why you keep me around."
  
  Jon was relieved to note that Davos had reverted to his fatherly tone. He smiled. "For your theatrics. Come now, Davos. My talk with Lord Tyrion got a bit out of hand, I grant you. But you know that you have my trust. And I believe that there is no lasting harm done. I didn't promise to do it, I just mentioned that I was keeping my options open."
  
  Seeing that Davos still looked a bit skeptical, Jon continued to justify himself. "Varys informed us that Lord Tyrion would walk through fire for his brother but resents his sister. He will not try to guilt trip me into helping Cersei. He only asked after her to be able to reassure his niece and nephew. Lord Tyrion's behaviour is yet another indicator that I am not wrong in my opinion of Jaime Lannister. The man made a difficult decision when he was seventeen years old. He should have been proclaimed a war hero. Instead he was treated with derision and his sister manipulated the situation to her advantage. That is how I see it. I admit that he made a serious mistake when he pushed Bran, but it was an impulsive act, executed in a moment of panic. He chose to safe his children's and his sister's life over the life of Bran Stark - yes I know," Jon added when Davos raised an eyebrow, "his own life as well. However, he is truly repentant and I honestly believe that if he had taken a moment longer to think about what he was doing, he would not have gone through with it. I am convinced that everything in his life might have turned out differently if he had not been in that throne room on that fateful day."
  
  "Let's agree to disagree on that for now, Jon. Whatever happened during a man's earlier years should never give him a free pass for attempted murder."
  
  "But the person in question should not be punished as harshly as a cold-blooded murderer. That is the last thing I will say about this today. This matter is moot as long as we are still facing a war north of the Wall anyway. Perhaps Jaime Lannister won't survive. Perhaps none of us will and we are arguing about this needlessly."
  
  Davos stayed serious. "I will only agree with your statement that we still have time before finding a compromise, son. Let's move on, shall we?"
  
  "Gladly. But let me first reiterate that I do trust you, Davos. And that I am still absolutely sure that I chose the best man possible to be my Hand. I implore you to keep challenging me as you did just now. That is your role."
  
  Davos coughed and blinked his eyes. "Then let us discuss precisely what we will reveal to Lord Renly of House Baratheon when we talk to him, together. Nothing about our secret strategy, I presume?"
  
  "Indeed. Until I have a better measure of the man, let us keep this between us for now. Only Varys, Prince Oberyn and Dany know the larger picture besides the two of us. Our allies each only know their own part to play. It will make reactions more authentic and gives us a better chance to keep this intelligence from getting out. We must keep in mind that our enemy has spies here in King's Landing."
  
  Davos nodded that he agreed with his King. "And also in the rest of the Kingdoms," he added for good measure.
  
  "I do hope that they've all taken the necessary precautions that as I asked them to take. But back to the subject of Lord Renly, what are your thoughts? Will he pull his weight? As I see it, right now he is only a powerless man counting on us to give him back his ancestral lands. Did you find a chance to speak to him?"
  
  "Yes, but only when he first arrived and we spoke of other things then. He hadn't talked to his vassals yet. The other conversations were short and in public. I belief he has the best intentions, but I am not convinced that he is leadership material. I am almost certain that he will need coaching at first. I hope the Maester at Storm's End is a sensible man and will stand by Lord Baratheon's side when Lord Renly is reinstated as Lord of the Stormlands. Perhaps we should look for a strong personality amongst the noble houses of the Stormlands to befriend Lord Baratheon and guide him subtly."
  
  "What about his relationship with Loras? Won't that interfere with his duties? Has he lobbied to be granted a position here in King's Landing and rule the Stormlands from afar?" Jon wondered.
  
  Davos nodded. "That same thought has crossed my mind as well. I'll put it on the list of things we should try to find out this afternoon. Perhaps you might also gain some insight by talking to your friend Loras about this when he finishes his shift?"
  
  "I can't do anything without you knowing, can I?" Jon fondly recalled the cosy evening he had spent with his friends.
  
  "Not even hiding the exact moment that you bedded your wife for the first time, I am sorry to say." Davos winked.
  
  "A little bird told me that you lost your bet." Jon bantered back hiding his slight embarrassment. It was the first time that Davos alluded to this in his presence.
  
  "Aye, but I didn't wager much. It was more my pride that was hurt for miscalculating the balance between your honour on one hand and your love inspired hormones and the importance that you attach to the blessing of the Old Gods on the other hand." Davos bowed his head in mock defeat before straightening his posture again. "Now back to the Stormlands. We have our list of Renly's bannermen that have found sanctuary here and whose families we have been able to extract. We'll be able to check if Lord Renly has already put in the effort and talked to them all. That will give us an idea of his involvement and motivation."
  
  "And competence when we hear what support he got from them and what promises he has made to them all." Jon added.
  
  "Indeed." Davos agreed promptly. "We must also ask him his insight regarding his brother's personality and how he thinks Lord Stannis of House Baratheon will react to different scenarios. Perhaps he can offer us some sound advice. After all, he grew up with Stannis."
  
  "Should we bring up his relationship or lack thereof with Gendry?" Jon asked. "I am not best pleased with Renly Baratheon's treatment of his legalised nephew.
  
  "I'll put in on my shortlist. We should indeed. He has a duty to Gendry. Anything else?"
  
  "Lord Renly might be able to tell us how his bannermen perceive Stannis. Do they worship his character, fear him, love him? Would they prefer Renly's more outgoing nature? Things like that," Jon offered.
  
  "Or do they despise Renly for his choice in sexual partner." Davos sighed. "I don't think that such intelligence will help us along. We already know that ever since Lord Stannis started worshipping his fire God, he rules the Stormlands by fear. As long as Stannis is alive, they will fight for him to save themselves or their kin from being burnt alive."
  
  Jon nodded. "We know all that. But we can let Renly explain it to us. Find out with just how much disgust he talks about his brother. We want to learn more about our future Lord Paramount's character, don't we?"
  
  "We do," Davos agreed. "We will also have to give him an overview of the current political landscape in the Seven Kingdoms. A broad overview, but he must become familiar with the new state of affairs."
  
  "We will. We shall also ask him what he knows about the economic situation of the Stormlands. In times of peace, are the Stormlands producing enough food to fill their own needs? What exactly are they trading? Perhaps Lord Renly can estimate how much damage Stannis Baratheon's short rule might have caused the trade relations. Stormlanders are also known to be capable sailors. Perhaps we can recruit some for our royal fleet."
  
  When Davos nodded Jon looked pensive. "I can't think of anything else for now."
  
  "Make sure to keep silent on the prominent roles Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn have played and are still playing in all matters, not only those pertaining to our strategy designed to bring the Stormlands into the fold." Davos warned.
  
  "Noted. Then let's briefly run over the topics that we will discuss during our meeting with Uncle Ned."
  
  There was still some time left before his private lunch with Dany when Davos left him. Jon called for Ghost in his mind and his direwolf joined him at the entrance of the Godswood. He knew Bran was off with Arya and their father visiting the nearby market to shop for a few souvenirs before Prince Stark had to leave later this sennight. He hoped to have the Godswood all to himself for a short while. It was not to be however. Sitting on a small bench was his uncle Benjen.
  
  "My time has run out, I see." His uncle remarked drily when he spotted his nephew. "Well better this way, I suppose. I might sleep more soundly after I have gotten this talk over with. I have been rehearsing it over and over in my head." He averted his eyes.
  
  Jon sat down on the ground, so he faced his uncle. "Why didn't you come find me then, Uncle? You know I would have made time for you."
  
  "Because I was still stalling and being a coward." Benjen's eyes flitted quickly over his nephew's face before he bent his head again.
  
  "I will keep everything you disclose to me a secret, Uncle. From Dany as well if you deem it necessary."
  
  "I appreciate that, Jon. Is it safe to talk here? I don't want word of what I am going to reveal to you to get out. It would do more harm than good."
  
  Jon looked at Ghost who returned his stare. "My direwolf will alert us if anyone enters the woods. We're good, Uncle."
  
  "Okay," Benjen sighed. "I'll reveal what I can. Please, let me speak uninterrupted and save your comments or questions till after I have finished."
  
  "As you wish." Jon promised quickly. He hoped his curiosity was not showing too much. He kept his body still, afraid that his uncle could bolt like a skittish horse at any moment. A bit more time passed before his uncle finally started to speak in hushed tones, his eyes firmly fixed on his lap.
  
  "You already know about the first time that I laid eyes on Lady Ashara. We were all at Harrenhal for the tournament that was held there some time before the Rebellion broke out. Brandon was still alive and engaged to Lady Catelyn of House Tully. Ned was a second son, still young and impressionable and I was fourteen. Ned being Ned was oblivious to the fact that the beautiful Lady Ashara of House Dayne had noticed him. Brandon, despite being betrothed, flirted with all the Ladies and was quick to notice that strangely Lady Ashara was immune to his charm and had eyes for his younger brother only. Somehow, he tricked Ned into dancing with her. Ned took an instant liking to Lady Ashara, that was obvious, even to me. At the time, I thought that she was the kindest, most beautiful Lady I had ever laid eyes on. I could understand all too well how Ned felt. But Ned the shy man that he was danced most of the dance in silence with her and left the ball immediately afterwards."
  
  Jon observed his uncle balling his fists, a sign that the hard part was still to come. He didn't move a muscle and waited patiently for his uncle to continue.
  
  "I don't know all the particulars of what happened next. A while later, I learned that Brandon had taken advantage of Lady Ashara's hurt feelings by Ned's perceived disinterest and had swept her off her feet. I don't know if she knew of Brandon's betrothal at the time or not. I don't know whether he promised to marry her or not. I only know that by some means he convinced her to lay with him and got her with child. Just as I did, Ned got wind of her pregnancy. Again, I do not know the exact sequence of it all. Ned won't speak about it. The only time we discussed this was shortly before he was set to enter the Sept to marry Lady Catelyn. He was upset and I tried to calm him down enough to make a presentable groom. I had never seen my solemn brother so close to a mental breakdown. It was during the conversation that ensued that I learned that Ned at some point had promised to marry Lady Ashara and claim his brother's child as his own to save her honour. You know how the story ends. Brandon died and Ned was forced to cement the alliance between Houses Stark and Tully. He did so reluctantly, swayed by the argument that it was the only way to give the Northern Lords a chance to keep their heads. The Mad King new that the North had turned traitor and only winning the Rebellion would save House Stark and its major bannermen from being executed for treason. If Ned married into house Tully, the North gained the alliance of two Kingdoms which as history taught us was enough to tip the scales in favour of our side."
  
  Benjen sighed still not looking up. Jon watched him stretch the fingers of his right hand one by one repeatedly. He kept silent as promised, sensing that there was more to come.
  
  "Lady Ashara eventually returned to Dorne and her reputation was lost. The birth was difficult, her daughter still-born and she barely survived. Then to make matters worse, her brother, the pride of their house was proclaimed missing or dead. Dawn, the illustrious sword of House Dayne lost. Her father swore he would never forgive House Stark for twice jilting his daughter and fighting for the side that had slayed his son. He forbade his daughter to ever contact a member of House Stark again. After Lady Ashara survived an attempt to end her own life, she was sent to live with a poor relation for a very long time. On his deathbed, her father sent for her only to berate her once more for dishonouring their house and causing him to live the last years of his life as a recluse."
  
  Silence fell and Jon contemplated all he had heard. "You are getting along with Ser Arthur though?" Was the first thing he thought to ask.
  
  "Ser Arthur is a reasonable man. He knows that I was still practically a kid and that I had no influence on what happened to his sister. He doesn't blame us for what happened during the Rebellion. You must have noticed that he avoids speaking of personal issues with Ned and my brother honours his wish. They get along because of their love for you. They agreed to a fragile truce that only holds as long as nobody mentions his sister and the Starks in one sentence. He will never accept another Stark as a suitor for his sister."
  
  Jon stayed silent a while longer. "Perhaps he did then. Years have gone by though. I do not believe that you are best placed to have an unbiased view of Ser Arthur's current feeling on this matter nor on his relationship with Uncle Ned. Also, I am sure that Lady Ashara has reached her majority by now. "
  
  Uncle Benjen looked straight at Jon for the first time since he had started his confession. "She wouldn't go against her late father's wishes. She would hate to hurt her brother."
  
  "Are you sure? She is on speaking terms with members of House Stark. Have you actually asked her? Have you ever told her that you believe that she bears no shame and that you value her as a woman worthy of being courted? Is it not possibly that her father has convinced her that she is a fallen woman and can't ever consider marrying an honourable Lord? Have you asked Ser Arthur's opinion on the matter? Many years have gone by. Her father is long dead. A caring brother would wish for his poor sister to find some happiness at long last. It could be as simple as Lady Ashara convincing her brother that becoming your husband is her most fervent wish and the only thing that could bring her happiness."
  
  Benjen stayed silent.
  
  "Dany is convinced that she has feelings for you." Jon offered softly.
  
  "How can she trust another brother of Brandon Stark? She has been betrayed by my brothers twice already."
  
  "Once by Brandon and he is dead. Uncle Ned had an impossible choice to make." Jon refused to see his uncle Ned as the villain of the story.
  
  "Not an impossible one. He chose the easy road. All these years he had a wife that loves him and he sired five children he can be proud of." Uncle Benjen's voice sounded bitter.
  
  "Only easy if he didn't love Lady Ashara back then. The rest was providence I suppose." Jon countered.
  
  "What if he did love her back then? What if he resents me for getting what he wanted but had to let go? Ned and I, we have not always had an easy relationship. This might prove to be too much for Ned and me to come back from."
  
  "Now you are just looking for excuses not to face your feelings and take a chance. If Uncle Ned loved her at one time, then he would want her to be happy after years of being lonely and miserable. He can't offer for her and he got a second chance at happiness. Why wouldn't he wish that for her? And if he doesn't come to this conclusion all by himself, I will help him get there. Uncle Ned is not an unreasonable man. Sometimes, he just needs a little nudge in the right direction."
  
  Benjen studied Jon's face with a faint hope in his eyes. "How sure is Daenerys?"
  
  "Very," Jon responded without blinking. "But don't take her word for it. Take a stroll with Lady Ashara and observe her reactions. Drop a hint or two. What do you have to lose?"
  
  Benjen shook his head, doubt once more marring his features. "Everything, Jon. Only everything."
  
  Jon tried to stay calm. This was no argument with a winner and a loser. He only wanted to persuade his uncle to take a chance. He kept his voice gentle when he softly coaxed him. "No, Uncle, I believe you look at it the wrong way. Right now, you have nothing. And what is more, you have everything to gain. Only everything." Silence ensued, the delicate subject still prominent on both men's minds.
  
  Eventually Jon stood, put a hand on his uncle's shoulder and smiled. "I shall pray for you, Uncle. But I don't believe that you will need the help from the Gods, merely a little courage. He took the few steps that separated him from the small weirwood tree and kneeled.
  
  Uncle Benjen shook his head. "It will be your shoulders that I will weep upon if it all comes to nothing."
  
  Jon nodded. "And they will accommodate you if needed. I'll always have your back, Uncle." Then he bowed his head and started to pray.
  
  The tragic story of Lady Ashara still played in his head when he joined Dany for their private luncheon. She was busy rearranging the food that the servants had brought on their little table and he couldn't help but break into a smile when their eyes met. They had found happiness so young. He was very lucky. He kissed her cheek and grinned when she pouted and tapped her lips. He playfully took her in his arms and dipped her low in a theatrical fashion while he gave her the open-mouthed kiss she asked for. Then he helped her upright again and moved his hand over his stomach. "Your poor husband is starving. Are you ready to serve your King and Master?"
  
  Dany played along and bowed her head. "I am your obedient servant, my King. Please accept this food that I humbly offer you. All I have is yours."
  
  Jon kissed her again. Only mere moments in her company and he felt lighter already. "First food," he declared, "and then, as a reward, I will let you decide how we shall spend the time we have left before duty calls us once more."
  
  "Then let's waste no more time and start to eat." Dany sat down, unfolded a napkin and put it in her lap to prevent staining the beautiful gown she was wearing.
  
  "How was your morning, Dany? Did you have a nice time getting to know all young Ladies-in-waiting a bit better?" He frowned and stopped buttering a bannock when he saw her make a face. "Did something happen?"
  
  "It was not so much an informal getting to know each other session but more a formal audience with Princess Catelyn. Your aunt crashed our get together."
  
  "Our Aunt. It can't have been that bad." Jon looked puzzled.
  
  Danny handed him the plate of meat he had been eying. "Normally it would not have been, had the esteemed Princess Catelyn not chosen to reveal to all present that we were wed before the Old Gods."
  
  "Word would have gotten out eventually." Jon answered as soon as he had swallowed his first bite.
  
  "Perhaps I am overreacting but the way it sounded, the reactions of my Ladies, certainly Lady Margaery's made it seem as if we were outed as followers of the Old Gods and not the Seven." She paused. "Now that I think on it some more, that might be mostly how I perceived it in my head. It is most likely that only your Uncle and the entire North were outed. I think we are in the clear."
  
  Jon nodded thoughtfully. He was not going to start a fight by questioning her decision to appoint Lady Margaery, at least not on such a weak charge as speaking boldly. Dany had decided to appoint her. The private interview that the two of them had granted Lady Margaery a couple of days ago had played a large part in that. Jon was still on the fence but remembering his earlier promise, had deferred to Daenerys' judgement. He had given her full authority and responsibility and had to see it through... for now at least.
  
  Dany took her first bite of the cold meat she had cut in small pieces while they had been talking. She chewed on it, aware that Aegon was holding back a comment and admired his restraint. She vividly remembered the discussion that they had had before she had decided in favour of Lady Margaery.
  
  Oooooo Flashback oooooO
  
  " She asked to speak to us both? You granted an audience now ?" Aegon had looked at her rather perplexed. Dany understood only too well. Never before had they granted an audience in their private sitting room after supper. It interfered with their sacred alone time. Jon had only missed it once when he had begged off to spend an evening with his friends. And even then, his friends had not invaded their private space, but had held their reunion elsewhere in the Red Keep.
  
  " I made an exception, Aegon. Please indulge me." She gave him a brief kiss and looked pleadingly at him. She saw him melt before her eyes.
  
  " You do not play fair. I can't refuse you anything in this setting." He gestured to the small sofa they often lingered on closely entwined, before retiring to their large bed. It was in such moments that they talked about their dreams, confessed their fears, admitted to mistakes and... other things.
  
  She gave him another kiss. "Then I'll press my advantage and ask for one more favour. Let me do most of the talking, please?" When Aegon nodded she rose quickly and walked to the door. "Then I'll ask Ser Rayford to let her enter.
  
  Dany joined him again on their love seat as she had started to call the sofa in their sitting room and adjusted her skirt. Straightening Jon's tunic, she gave him an encouraging smile before she shouted "enter". As previously arranged, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell set foot in their private chamber.
  
  Dany felt Jon startle when Lady Margaery clad in a black gown fell to her knees and bowed her head as soon as she had closed about half the distance between the door and where they were seated. Having had foreknowledge of Lady Margaery's purpose for asking to be allowed to speak to the King and Queen in private, Dany was able to keep her face neutral.
  
  " Your Graces, I humbly thank you for granting me the opportunity to speak to you." Lady Margaery's voice was no louder than a whisper.
  
  " Please rise, Lady Margaery," Aegon said. Her poor darling felt ill at ease by such unexpected, submissive behaviour. Dany threw him a warning look and took charge.
  
  " Yes, please rise, Lady Margaery," Dany repeated her husband's words. We installed a chair over here just for this occasion. Do acknowledge our efforts and use it. We would greatly appreciate it." She smiled politely and watched Lady Margaery regain her feet. It always amazed her how graciously Lady Margaery could move. She watched her regain her footing and slide in the appointed chair as effortless as if she had practised that exact same move a thousand times before. When the silence thickened, Dany encouraged her guest to speak up. "You asked for this opportunity. Please speak your purpose, Lady Margaery."
  
  " I came to confess a crime, your Graces. I feel I should be on my knees for this." She looked at the King who returned her gaze with a bit of unease.
  
  Dany took charge. "I would prefer you address me for now, Lady Margaery. Pretend that your audience is with me alone. The King will be a silent participant and will listen to all you say. That way, if I deem that we need his input, he has enough information to judge you or grant you clemency without forcing you to go through this ordeal twice. Know that I have full authority on whom to appoint as Lady-in-waiting. I gather this is still your ultimate goal in coming here, is it not? At least if you can get us to absolve you of whatever crime you have come here to confess, of course."
  
  Dany was glad to see Lady Margaery lose some of her confidence. The young woman seemed unsure on how to proceed. Dany had neutralised Lady Margaery's greatest weapon. She knew that the young woman had been raised to use her female wiles to obtain whatever she wanted from any man, old or young. This was exactly why she had side-lined her husband. Lady Margaery would need to find a way to sway the Queen who was immune to the charms and seduction prowess of the Rose of Highgarden.
  
  Meanwhile, Lady Margaery had already composed herself enough to continue her petition. She had angled her body subtly so if she looked up, she would stare directly into the eyes of the Queen. She kept her head bowed for the moment. "I am not sure whether your Graces will see past my crime and pardon me. But I will not take up more of your time than necessary and come straight to the point." She paused and only continued after seeing the Queen nod her head encouragingly when she stole a fleeting glance. "Shortly before your marriage, I snuck into the chamber, the bedroom of your uh betrothed at the time, now your husband, King Aegon. I did this with the intent to seduce him and have him release his seed inside of me so he would be honour bound to marry me."
  
  Dany raised one eyebrow playing along. She was glad Aegon was keeping absolutely still. It would not do to have him fidget uncomfortably. This way he projected no guilt whatsoever. "I gather you did not succeed?"
  
  " No, your Grace, I did not. He was not sleeping in his bed. As it happened, you were. Curiously enough, alone. I left the moment I recognised you. I did not try it again."
  
  Dany had to admit that Lady Margaery played her part splendidly. She was the perfect picture of a repented maiden clad in a simple black mourning gown with her head bowed and her hands folded demurely in her lap. She sat in the chair, her feet closely together, exactly like a modest maiden should comport herself in a public setting. "I see. And why do you come forward and confess this after all this time?"
  
  " Because uh, because I revealed this to Willas. He forced me to confess everything. He advised me to explain the circumstances as truthfully as possible and to beg for your forgiveness."
  
  " I see." Dany repeated and kept a severe gaze on Lady Margaery. "Then I grant you permission to explain these circumstances to us."
  
  Margaery swallowed and looked up pleadingly. "I didn't want to seduce him. Do not mistake me. I do find his Grace attractive. But were it up to me, I would prefer that the man I married would want to wed me. It was all Grandmother's plan. She put me up to it. Not only did she threaten to marry me to the first decrepit old man that dared to ask for my hand if I refused, she beat me with a cane each night that I came back to my room without losing my maidenhead to King Aegon. I can show you the marks that I still bear on my back if you do not believe me."
  
  Dany held up her hand when she saw Lady Margaery move her hand to slide her dress of her shoulders. "That won't be necessary. We appreciate your willingness to do so all the same. The King and I will discuss this matter and we will inform your brother of our decision. You may retire."
  
  See saw Aegon shift in his seat but a pertinent look from her made him keep silent.
  
  Lady Margaery hastily got to her feet, for once forgetting to be graceful. She bowed hurriedly and made for the door. As soon as it had closed behind her, Aegon turned to her.
  
  " Are you seriously still considering her as a candidate for Lady-in-waiting? You do realise that she will have free reign of the hallways leading to our private rooms. We restricted the access and only a limited number of persons are still allowed to roam them now. Your Ladies-in-waiting are on the very short list of names that may traverse them because they use of the sitting room further down the hall."
  
  " I have not made up my mind either way, Aegon. I will reserve my decision until the both of us have spoken to Lord Willas. That is unless you do not want to be part of that discussion? But do not mistake me for a fool. If I decide in her favour, I will make it absolutely clear to her that the first time she makes eyes at you, the first time that she approaches you without it being on my orders, she will be shipped off to Highgarden without being allowed the opportunity to explain herself."
  
  " I don't care about that. I can handle her. I care about your well-being. Just make sure you are safe. Even if you believe that she was not a part of the plot to poison you, stay vigilant." He caressed her cheek.
  
  Dany leaned into his touch. "I will, Aegon. Now let's retire. I need your assurance that no matter how pretty my Ladies-in-Waiting are, you will always and only have eyes for me."
  
  She squealed when Aegon didn't waste any time and picked her up only to throw her on the bed moments later. "You made me wait too long tonight, wife. This husband can no longer control his baser urges. Now help me with stripping every garment of that perfect body of yours or this beautiful dress will no longer be fit to be worn again."
  
  Oooooo End of Flashback oooooO
  
  Dany blushed when she remembered how that conversation had ended. Perhaps their private midday meal could end in a similar way? She peeked at Aegon's plate and saw that he had finished it and was reaching for the plate of meat to get second helpings. "I hate to draw out the subject, but may I remind you that we both were swayed by Lord Willas's heartfelt plea to pardon is sister after he recounted several incidents that had occurred during their youth? Who would have thought that Lady Olenna's ever present cane was also a torturing device she used on her grandchildren?"
  
  Aegon nodded. "Just keep the promise you made to me. Avoid situations where you are alone with her and stay vigilant." He reached out over the table and squeezed her hand.
  
  "Only because I love you and want you to be able to sleep peacefully at night, Aegon." She tried to free her hand. "I will need this hand if I am to finish my meal in due time. If not, there will be no time left for additional activities of my choosing." She gave him a look which she hoped conveyed her intentions in a seductive manner. She smiled when she saw his eyes darken and then check the contents of their plates. The moment he took a large bite, she did the same. It amazed her how she craved her husband's attentions more and more each day. He had awoken such wanton sensations in her body and instead of these feelings diminishing now that the mystery was wearing off and she knew most of what there was to coupling, her need for him only grew stronger every day. No matter where she was or what she was doing, images would pop into her mind of him whispering seductive words in her ear while he stroked her down there. Just this morning, while talking with a proud Princess of the North, she had felt herself grow wet when the image of Aegon with his head between her thighs suddenly flitted through her mind. If she had any say in it, he would not leave this room before he had thoroughly ravished her, and she him.
  
  Davos looked at Jon and shook his head the moment the door fell shut behind Lord Renly of House Baratheon. Jon left his seat behind the large desk and positioned himself at the window that looked out on an inner courtyard where servants were hanging freshly washed clothes up to dry. The meeting had gone precisely as they had predicted. Lord Renly of House Baratheon was not a great political mind. He hated his brother and had been overwhelmed by the demands of the very same bannermen who owed him allegiance and had known him as their benevolent liege lord for years before his exile. These Lords should be grateful that Lord Renly was on the brink of taking over again from his fire worshipping brother Stannis. On the positive side, Lord Renly had made a real effort to contact all of his bannermen in King's Landing in a short amount of time and his intentions were good even if the results were poor. Just as they had discussed, they would have to guide him and surround him with a competent set of advisers.
  
  "I just hope he will make an effort to get to know Gendry now that I made it clear once more how highly I esteem him. Perhaps we should have revealed how key Gendry is to my war preparations without actually mentioning forging Valyrian steel."
  
  "Let's just wait and see whether that is necessary, son. I believe these two men will work it out amongst themselves. Gendry is willing and Renly needs him to sire the next generation. You have to direct your energy to more important matters and not meddle too much in personal matters between your subjects. Gendry is no damsel-in-distress that needs rescuing."
  
  Jon nodded and turned away from the window to face Davos. "So, next up is my uncle. I am curious as to how he will react to my request to speak with Lord Domeric of House Bolton without him present."
  
  "You have a good reason to do so. Ever since he attended his first banquet, Lady Shireen has been seen venturing outside more."
  
  Jon nodded. "I've seen her from my window a few times. She was always chaperoned when in company of Lord Bolton. I guess that Lady Ashara would allow for nothing less. Can you guess who is often enlisted to walk with them or do you already know?"
  
  Davos smiled. "I knew the lad would want to get to know his cousin at the first opportunity. Gendry has played the role of her protector whenever Shireen or Lady Ashara asked. Hasn't Dany told you? Sometimes Princess Arya joins them as well and if Ghost isn't otherwise engaged, they take him with them. Lady Shireen and Ghost are getting along fine."
  
  Jon returned his smile. "I'm glad that Cousin Shireen has taken a liking to my wolf. I had no doubts about Ghost's side of things. He knows that she is under my protection and that I consider her kin. That makes her pack to Ghost."
  
  "So back to the point I was trying to make," Davos reverted back to his Hand of the King mode. "You have a good excuse to want to talk to Lord Domeric of House Bolton in private. You represent the interests of your cousin Shireen whose welfare was entrusted to you by the late Robert Baratheon before he died. Technically she is your ward and you want an opportunity to hear from Lord Bolton whether his intentions towards your ward are honourable. I would even proclaim that you needn't ask for your Uncle's permission. The fact that you are doing it is a mere courtesy. And if during your conversation with Lord Bolton you happen to dwell on other topics, well that happens sometimes." Davos winked, this time referring in good humour to their earlier discussion regarding Tyrion Lannister.
  
  Before Jon could point out that Lord Bolton had promised Jon to marry whomever his King ordered him to, two loud nocks interrupted their conversation. "Enter!" Jon called out and Prince Eddard Stark joined them.
  
  "My King, Lord Seaworth." He bowed.
  
  Jon waited until the door fell shut before he reacted. "Glad you could make it, Uncle. Please have as seat and call me Jon. We are behind closed doors."
  
  His uncle took the seat next to Davos and Jon circled his desk and sat back down behind it.
  
  "We asked you here to talk about the audience with the Lords of the North that is scheduled for tomorrow. Davos and I wanted to walk with you through the topics we'd like to discuss and make sure that all of us are of one mind. Perhaps we might also agree on who brings up what exactly."
  
  "You are talking about the ongoing negotiations with the Free Folk and the Night's Watch?" His uncle asked.
  
  Jon nodded. "Indeed. I fear things are going too slow to have a significant enough impact. We need more goodwill from the Lords of the North. There is no time to allow them to remain stubborn. If all parties contribute to build fortifications to separate the Gift from the Umber Lands and the mountain clans, most of the objections of the Lords of the North are null and void. Mole's Town even asked not to strengthen their walls. They welcome the extra source of income. Also, the Free Folk have agreed to let only their more civilized clans live close to the Southerners as they call us. You can use the argument that they will make up the bulk of our defences against our common enemy. As soon as the negotiations with the Night's Watch are finalized, they will start manning the castles between Castle Black and East Watch."
  
  "Which will provide them shelter as well." His uncle pointed out. "The Lords will see it as the North allowing them to live in buildings the first men erected and help them escape the cold of the coming winter they could not survive in their primitive tents. But I will defend your point of view and use your arguments. Let me do the talking, Jon. This is a matter for the Warden of the North after all. I urge you to say as little as possible after you introduced the subject in a neutral single sentence."
  
  "Agreed. I shall only interfere if the situation warrants it and to underline that I will be there with my dragons as soon as I am needed." Jon clarified.
  
  "And if you don't mention it, we will also stress that the King of the Seven Kingdoms has been preparing weapons, and other resources for this war without pause all this time and will be accompanied by strong fighters when the time to face the Night King is upon us." Davos interjected with a firm voice.
  
  Jon nodded gratefully at Davos. His Hand would make sure that Prince Stark did not underplay the role of the young King and let the North take all the credit. Without Jon's efforts, the North would still be in denial. For now he opted to change the subject. "Have you decided on the fate of Theon Greyjoy? Robb wrote that he is recovered enough to stand trial. Any chance that you will grant him clemency and send him to the Wall considering the ordeal he has gone through?"
  
  "Will it endanger your alliance with Yara Greyjoy or do I have free reign?" His uncle asked.
  
  "Although I would prefer not to have to tell her that her brother has been executed, she would accept his fate." Jon looked at Davos who nodded. Jon swallowed. "You have free reign, Uncle."
  
  Ned Stark was visible satisfied with that decision. "Then I'll see what I can do. If there is a way to spare his life without losing face, I'll will."
  
  "Would you lose face if you sent him to Wall?" Jon asked impulsively and ignored Davos small gesture of disapproval.
  
  "I can only leave the choice up to Theon Greyjoy if I find that he is sound of mind and capable of making such a decision for himself. Now about Lord Bolton, Domeric Bolton, I have thought long and hard on the man's request to change the name of his house. I know it strokes with your wishes. I am inclined to grant him that even though it breaks with tradition and sets a dangerous precedent. That said, before I would allow for House Bolton to go extinct officially, I need to punish them for their betrayal and at the same time - even if it is merely symbolical - give the Lords who came to Robb's rescue a reward at the detriment of House Bolton."
  
  "Does that mean I get a reward as well?" Jon teased. But his uncle stayed solemn.
  
  "The Lords with adjoining borders to Bolton lands I would grant a parcel of adjacent land that previously belonged to House Bolton. The other Lords would be given a financial compensation by House Bolton, its importance comparable to the worth of these small parcels of land."
  
  "I'm sure Lord Bolton would be only too willing. Will you allow me to speak with Lord Bolton personally in regard to a possible betrothal once he has discarded the Bolton name and founded a new House?"
  
  Ned Stark frowned. "That depends. Who is the prospective bride? A Frey? Or are you limiting Robb's options by taking another eligible bride of the marriage market?"
  
  "I would not hurt House Stark's chances, Uncle." Jon barely concealed his frustration. "Don't tell me that you would have allowed Robb to marry the legalised Lady Myrcella of House Lannister? That is the only betrothal I instigated since I came into power. It was you who promoted the betrothal of your Tully good-brother."
  
  "I didn't consider Lady Lannister. That is true." His uncle admitted. "But am I right in presuming that you are thinking of Lady Shireen of House Baratheon as a potential bride for Lord Bolton?"
  
  "I consider it a possibility but would of course give you precedence if you tell me you are considering her for Robb. I can stall my decision. It is not urgent." Jon kept his tone casual and made sure not to exchange an exasperated look with Davos. They had discussed the possibility of Ned Stark reacting like this but had dismissed it out of hand on the account of Princess Catelyn never agreeing for her perfect eldest son and heir to marry a disfigured bride. Was his uncle testing him once more, just like he had done with the Greyjoy issue? He kept his voice firm when he continued. "I warn you though. I will not betroth Lady Shireen who is under my protection to a man she abhors. Then again, I am sure that Robb can charm anyone that he puts his mind to. Let us say that Robb would have to convince me that he will overlook her disfigurement and truly believes he can make their marriage work. My cousin Shireen is a kind, shy Lady. I won't stand by and have someone wed her out of obligation only to shrink away from her."
  
  "Fair enough. If I am truthful, I did not consider her for my son, either. I believe she is too highborn to wed Bolton though."
  
  "Let me be the judge of that. Lord Bolton will have to convince me as well before I grant him anything. If he impresses me, I will still insist on a year-long secret betrothal and keep them chaperoned at all times so she is not compromised if I decide he is not to marry my ward after all. So, do I have your permission to speak to him in private?"
  
  Jon was relieved when his uncle nodded. "Now that we are on the subject of betrothals, did Lord Reed approach you about Bran?"
  
  "He did," his uncle answered. "Lady Meera is a bit older but Lord Reed mentioned that they would at least wait until Bran is seventeen before they marry. Given his special circumstances, she might be the best fit. They would settle at Greywater Watch. I have taken it under advisement. There is no hurry."
  
  "And my cousin Sansa?" Jon asked his tone a bit hesitant.
  
  Ned sighed. "She is still so young." He sighed again and took his time to answer. "The only concession I will make for now is that I will not betroth her to anyone yet. Sansa will attract many suitors here at court. If in a year's time, she has not taken a fancy to someone else and if Lord Dayne is still pressing his suit, then I will put him on the list alongside the other suitors instead of ruling him out on principle. Mind you, that does not mean he goes to the top of the list. It means I am willing to look closer at his worth and consider him for my daughter's sake."
  
  "That is all we ask. Look at his worth. A lot can happen in a year." Jon kept his face neutral but inside he was celebrating. This concession was exactly what they had been aiming for a few moons ago.
  
  "Now about Arya and Lord Gendry..." This time Uncle Ned was the one to bring up the possibility in a hesitant manner.
  
  "Lord Baratheon is his ow man, Uncle. I will not force him to wait for Arya. But as far as I know my friend, he will wait for her of his own accord. Better let this relationship evolve naturally. It will happen, or it won't. If my cousin Arya refuses to marry, don't force her. If her mother ever threatens that she will have to leave Winterfell because of her continued unmarried status as she grows older, I am willing to take her under my protection."
  
  Ned nodded. "I am sure it will not come to that. Will you let me know if their situation uh evolves? And make sure that nothing untoward happens between the two of them while she is under your protection? I will not be returning to the capital after the funeral. I will be heading north to Winterfell. Perhaps you will see Robb sooner than you think. He can take over the responsibility of his sisters once he is here."
  
  "You can trust me with Arya and the Queen with Sansa, Uncle Ned. "We'll look after them as we would our own little sisters. And I will look forward to seeing my foster-brother again. We have been writing very long letters to each other but that isn't the same. I haven't seen Robb since, well since I left him at Winterfell."
  
  "That was just a bit more than two moons ago, if you can believe it." Davos intervened. "It will be at least as long before Prince Robb reaches the capital."
  
  "Longer probably," Ned chimed in and then addressed his nephew solely. "Would you consider the possibility of betrothing one of Robb's children to one of yours?"
  
  "Nothing would make me happier if things turned out that way." Jon didn't hesitate to respond favourably to this request. "We'll make sure that our future offspring meets at regular intervals. Perhaps Robb and I might foster our younger sons alternately, so they get to know their cousins. And I am sure the dragons will oblige us and fly us to Winterfell at least once a year. No big pump and circumstance, just a family visit without the rest of the royal Court in attendance." When Jon saw Ned's face brighten he cautioned him. "Nothing in writing though, just a declaration of intent that we'll keep between us for now to give things the chance to progress naturally. And I would have to talk to Dany first about all of this, fostering and betrothal alike. You do have my solemnly promise that I'll do anything in my power to positively steer matters to the wished for outcome."
  
  "That's good enough for now." His uncle was clearly pleased. "To get back to the upcoming discussion with the Lords of the North, we must not forget to mention the new trade agreements with the Reach. I owe you a thank you for that, Nephew. This deal will help a lot come winter. I intend to pay you back by getting my bannermen to help the Free Folk trade with the other Kingdoms. I believe they can provide rare furs, first quality wood, utensils and some other items they fabricate that are unparalleled to what we have south of the Wall. Winter is coming for all Seven of the Kingdoms at some point. Those Southerners will have to stock up on furs and wood or alternate burning substances to heat their dwellings."
  
  "That will be a big step forward, Uncle. If all goes as planned, we will make enormous progress tomorrow. Now there is one thing left that I still wanted to address: the monitoring of the situation beyond the Wall. For now, I have been assuming sole responsibility. I know that the Night's Watch keeps the Warden of the North informed of the situation. I asked Sandor to send a copy of his status reports both to me and to Winterfell. I had hoped that the North would assume more responsibility. I trust that when the Night King stirs, the North will call its banners without me summoning them and be at the Wall if not before me, then certainly at the same time as me to make a stand for the living. As a gesture of good faith, I will not ask the North to participate in the upcoming conflict with the Stormlands."
  
  Ned looked at Davos who nodded that he was in full agreement. He straightened his back. "You may count on the North, your Grace. As you implied, protecting the North is first and foremost the responsibility of the Warden of the North. I will call upon you, not the other way around. The North will stand with the Night's Watch when 'Winter is coming' for us."
  
  "As long as you call upon me immediately and not play the heroe and make a stand alone. Remember the prophesy: you will need the Prince That Was Promised and his two large dragons. I will be bringing our best men as well."
  
  "I promise, Jon. I will not put lives in jeopardy unnecessary. You and your dragons will lead our armies."
  
  Interlude 44: House Baratheon
  
  It still happened at times that Gendry didn't react immediately when they called him Lord Baratheon. He was doing better, but it still kept happening when he was distracted. He had gone by Gendry most of his life, sometimes Gendry Waters or just Waters. So, when his uncle called his name when he was in the middle of making inventory of all the tools in the renovated forge of the Red Keep, he didn't react the first two or three times his uncle called him by his legitimized name. Perhaps Jon was wrong and it was actually his fault that their first meeting had not gone smoother.
  
  When he had finally turned around, he had seen the shock register on the face of Renly Baratheon. He had become used to that by now from people who had known his father when he had been his age. Since Renly Baratheon kept silent, Gendry had introduced himself. "I am indeed Gendry Baratheon. Nice to meet you, Lord Renly of House Baratheon."
  
  His uncle had given him a stiff greeting in return all the while taking in his surroundings. "Do you intend to keep working as a blacksmith? You can't, I mean you' would better not."
  
  "I see you have not spoken with the King about me yet." Gendry had wiped his hands with a clean cloth even though they could at the most be a bit dusty. "I will let him explain."
  
  His uncle had looked him over one last time. A pair of blue eyes - those clearly were a common Baratheon feature - had lingered on Gendry's callused hands. Without uttering another word, Lord Renly of House Baratheon had swiftly turned around, his coat swirling around him and had left a bewildered Gendry staring after him.
  
  Gendry had sighed. 'That could have gone better. On the other hand, it could have gone a lot worse. I was only preparing my work place. A few days later and I could have been covered neck-deep in soot and would have looked a fright. Perhaps I should enlist Loras' help to break the ice between me and ' Uncle' Renly.'
  
  Things had been simpler and more pleasant when Davos had introduced his cousin, Lady Shireen of House Baratheon to him shortly after his arrival. Granted, he had been decently attired then as opposed to wearing a leather apron when Lord Renly had paid him that surprise visit. Cousin Shireen had greeted him shyly and they had exchanged their first few words with the help of Davos. During his first luncheon at the Red Keep, he had been seated next to her and she had described the gardens to him. When they fell silent she had taken it upon her to introduce a new topic and had given examples of how nice the King and Queen treated her. That had finally loosened his tongue and he had told her of his friendship with the King and with both Princesses, Princess Arya in particular. By the end of that meeting, they were on a first name basis.
  
  When they were allowed to join the royal family for desert, it had warmed his heart to see her delight after he had personally introduced her to Princess Arya. Both girls for some reason had taken an instant liking to each other. Shireen had also petted Ghost without blinking. Gendry had been delighted that she was not afraid and apparently had befriended Ghost before his arrival in the capital. That was immediate common ground and an easy topic of conversation if he was in need of one.
  
  Since Gendry was not very busy his first few days in King's Landing, he had actively sought the company of his first cousin after their introduction and had taken great pains to get to know her better. He had made the most progress during their strolls in the garden with or without Arya present. She had helped him look the part of a Lord or at the very least something closely resembling one.
  
  So it was no hardship to say yes when Lady Ashara had asked him to chaperone his cousin who had been invited to take a stroll with Lord Domeric of House Bolton. He had also volunteered his services for similar future occurrences. Lord Bolton seemed all right and Gendry even enjoyed the walks he took in the company of the young couple. The only awkward moment had come yesterday evening when Arya had pulled him outside after supper and asked him point blank if he preferred Shireen's company over hers. Gendry had needed all his diplomatic skills to explain to her that Shireen was his first cousin and that as her next of kin it fell to him to protect her reputation when she walked with a potential suitor. Arya had sniffed loudly and told him that that was a stupid rule but since she couldn't deny that the rule existed for now, she would help him to protect his kin and accompany them whenever she was free. Crisis averted.
  
  His relationship with Shireen was well underway. The one between him and 'Uncle' Renly, that was another matter entirely. Gendry didn't really know which one of them should take the next step after that short, disastrous encounter.
  
  Lord Renly of House Baratheon knew that his legalized nephew had been in the capital almost three days before he actively went in search of the young man that he had been forced to declare his heir. He had hoped to see him during the first official court session shortly after the man had arrived with the Starks, but his nephew had not been present. When he asked Lord Seaworth why the new Lord Gendry of House Baratheon need not attend, the man had calmly explained that Lord Gendry of House Baratheon had already met the King in a more private setting and was bound by Lord Renly's public pledge of allegiance to King Aegon. This statement reminded Renly of the day that he had kneeled before King Aegon and made his vow. When the session had ended, the young King had briefly spoken to him in person and talked about his brother's last moments. He had also been allowed to read the abdication decree his elder brother had signed shortly before he had succumbed to a wound incurred during a hunt. He refused to dwell further on that. Hunting accident or foul play, a voluntarily signed statement or an extorted one, he had come too late to the game to change the outcome.
  
  Still, he had been curious to meet this elusive nephew. The first time that he had spotted a glimpse of this Gendry had been from afar. A tall broad dark-haired man had been pointed out to him by a servant. His nephew had been walking with a younger girl and two giant direwolves. Renly was the first to admit - to himself not to anyone else - that he was not as brave as his older brothers. Upon studying the two giant animals, he had turned into another direction, deciding he would have ample opportunity to encounter Lord Gendry of House Baratheon some other time. At least the young man was keeping the right company. Upon further enquiry, he had learned that his nephew was close to both Stark Princesses.
  
  King Aegon had pointed out that it was a good thing that his designated heir did not have the ambition other heirs might have. Gendry Baratheon would not threaten his rule over the Stormlands. He had told him that the young man was quick to grasp new concepts and would most likely become a loyal asset and assist him in his duties. And Renly had been prepared to make it work. Even if this Gendry was no replacement for Edric Storm, he could still strike up a friendship with the nephew that clearly had obtained the friendship of the Targaryen King.
  
  When he had asked Loras a day later if he knew where he could find his cousin Gendry, his lover had given him the directions to the renovated building that now housed the improved Red Keep's forge. Renly had been appalled. Legalizing a former blacksmith apprentice had been a necessary evil. For a recognised scion of House Baratheon to be still practising his craft, was a disgrace. He walked to the forge despite his misgivings hoping that perhaps the man was just there for nostalgic purposes. Seeing a younger version of his brother Robert, tall strong and healthy had been a shock. The apron he wore however had been the confirmation of his worst fears. He had hardly gotten a few polite sentences out and had left the moment it became clear that his designated heir had the intention to keep working as a royal blacksmith for the time being. He didn't think he had uttered a proper goodbye before he left.
  
  His feet had carried him to the Tower of the Hand. Lord Seaworth seemed like a reasonable man. Perhaps he could put in a good word with the King and help him talk sense into his lowborn nephew. Provide him with a suitable bride and send him to the Stormlands as soon as it was under their control again. That way at the very least Lord Gendry of House Baratheon could make himself useful by starting to sire the next generation of Baratheons. The Hand had not been available. Renly had been turned away after being promised an audience with Lord Seaworth later that same day.
  
  It had all come to nothing. Lord Seaworth had calmly explained that his nephew was a very skilled blacksmith who had been commissioned by the King to make a special order that only Gendry Baratheon had the skills to complete. He had told him not to worry. That it was not a ruse for the King to look down on his house. He said that when all was said and done, Lord Gendry of House Baratheon would be a name that would be remembered by posterity. He could not reveal more since that was the King's secret to tell, but whatever his nephew would create with his newly legitimized noble hands, would raise the standing of House Baratheon considerably. And as far as his other demand was concerned, the King had already promised to find a noble wife for Lord Gendry and the King was a man of his word. "Give it time," were the last words that Lord Seaworth had uttered before gently dismissing him.
  
  Renly had left the Tower of the Hand with conflicted feelings. He once more regretted that young Edric was no longer alive. Had that been the case, then he could have persuaded the King to legitimize Edric as well and more than likely after some time had passed, the King would have come to realise that Edric, with his highborn mother and noble upbringing would have been more suitable to become the next Lord of Storm's End. Now that was a moot point. He cursed Stannis once more. He had never liked his grim brother who had hardly ever indulged him, almost never giving his ideas, his wishes the slightest attention. But right now, he hated Stannis with a passion.
  
  He had felt such a triumph when Robert had given him the Lordship of Storm's End bypassing Stannis. At least Robert had accepted him for what he was. He knew that Stannis bore him a grudge and that feeling had been mutual. However, he had never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that the righteous Stannis Baratheon would change into such a fanatic and that his honourable brother would convert and become so devout to an Essosi deity to the point of becoming a kinslayer. His brother had lost his senses and had condemned innocent people to be burned alive. Stannis had even done worse as the Mad King going so far as to burning his own kin alive. He had heard the tale of how Edric had screamed at his uncle for mercy and how Stannis had witnessed Edric's suffering with the same stern face he had always used when he berated Renly for the smallest things such as not cleaning the soles of his boots before entering the hallway when they still lived together at Storm's End. If rumours were to be believed, his niece Shireen had narrowly escaped the same fate as poor Edric. He had not dared to raise the subject with his niece. As a matter of fact, he had only seen her a few times, always in the company of others.
  
  Luckily that night after confronting the Hand of the King, Loras had not been on duty and had helped him to calm down. Loras had told him that he believed everything Lord Seaworth had said to Renly. His lover confirmed that Gendry Baratheon was on a first name basis with the King. He and Samwell Tarly had many secret meetings and Gendry was not a normal blacksmith. He was one of the few in the realm who could work with a special material desperately needed for the coming war in the North. If the King proclaimed that Gendry would bring fame instead of shame to Renly's great house, then Loras believed him. King Aegon had yet to tell his first untruth. After Loras had fallen asleep in his arms, Renly had surprised himself by almost feeling envious of his legalized nephew's good standing with the handsome Targaryen King,... almost.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Prince Oberyn and Varys get a chance to tell us what they have been doing. Swayed by the overwhelming response to the interlude featuring the young errand boy, Joni, I wrote kind of a sequel 😉.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A matter of timing
  Chapter 45: A matter of timing
  
  Summary:
  
  Varys and Oberyn continue their work behind the scenes. Lord Bolton gets an audience with the King before the northern delegation leaves King's Landing. Joni needs new lessons.
  
  Notes:
  
  Still unbeta'd. I tried my best to keep the mistakes to a minimum. Enjoy the chapter
  
  Chapter text:
  
  "You look troubled, my friend." Oberyn sat down opposite Varys in his usual carefree manner. It was the first time in a while that they had agreed to meet in secret in the back room of Thobo Mott's workshop on the street of steel.
  
  "A normal reaction after a few close calls. Don't tell me you are not secretly relieved that you didn't have to lie to our King." Varys retorted.
  
  Oberyn had the decency to lose some of his smug behaviour. "I grant you, the way that it all turned out was very fortunate. The Queen of Thorns beat me to it. You know I had planned something at the first inn that you told me the members of house Tyrell were scheduled to stop for luncheon outside the city gates on their journey south. You are right. I would have felt much guiltier if I had been obliged to lie straight to Aegon's adorable face. I rather savour how our young King looks up at me with those grey, honourable, trusting eyes."
  
  "I greatly enjoy having his esteem as well." Lord Varys nodded. "More than any other King I served, I might add."
  
  "How come we didn't catch a whiff of Lady Olenna's abusive behaviour towards her grandchildren? Assuming it is true, that is." Oberyn had adjusted his pose slightly so he could pay better attention.
  
  "I have been wondering that myself. Now that we know, several of my birds have come forward with details of recent conversations between Willas Tyrell and his father as well as snippets of Willas Tyrell questioning his sister. That young man will soon be the real leader of House Tyrell. His father was not capable to cope with the aftermath of Lady Olenna's demise and Willas was the one to step up and make all the arrangements for the funeral and make sure that his father was ready to leave the capital only a few days later than originally planned. That is good news for us. Lord Willas although smart is already proving not to be as devilishly cunning as his grandmother was. The Queen of Thorns had a close grip on all her servants. We know now that nobody talked of certain things within earshot of my little birds. She has not been dead for more than a few days and already my birds have brought me more information than during the Tyrell's stay in King's Landing. Makes you wonder whether she would have been able see through my scheme and had our assassination attempt backfire. We were lucky that she conveniently choked herself to death at an extremely opportune moment."
  
  Oberyn's face was pensive when he admitted: "She was a worthy opponent though her endgame was less noble than ours. I would have hated to lose our King's esteem if she had found a way to outwit me."
  
  "Then you agree that we should be more circumspect in future?" Varys asked Oberyn.
  
  "I took every precaution. I mean, we did. We were very circumspect, Varys. On second thought, I refuse to believe that we would have been caught out by her. The King would never have learned the truth. I would have lied just as convincingly as I did when he asked. Perhaps I might have suffered a sleepless night or two for betraying his trust, but he never would have been able to prove that we were behind it. He would have given me the benefit of the doubt. We have gotten away with so much already. Why not this?"
  
  "I know. But most of our schemes were of a more innocent nature than the outright murder of a Lady of a ruling house and I can rejoice in their success with a more or less clear conscience. I felt surprisingly more troubled by this one. I must be growing mellow in my old age." Varys bowed his head.
  
  "After all these years of working together, sometimes I still don't understand you." Prince Oberyn crossed his legs showing that he was at ease once more now he considered the matter closed.
  
  "That is my trademark. I want people to be confused and not understand my true intentions." Varys remarked but the unspoken request for clarification of Oberyn's last statement was apparent by the way he scrutinized Oberyn's face.
  
  "For instance," Oberyn obliged him, "why wouldn't you want to take credit for manipulating Ser Brienne into signing up for the Dragonguard. That was most masterfully done. Not to mention that everyone was happy with the outcome."
  
  Varys smiled proudly. "It was a masterpiece. But you congratulating me and my own contentment is enough reward for me. It gives me great pleasure to see how gratified our King, the Queen, Ser Gerold, Davos, everyone really, is with this simple solution. Ser Brienne will be better for it in the end as well. She will never be promoted to Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Becoming Commander of the Dragonguard in due time however is within her reach. She is playing her cards well already."
  
  Oberyn narrowed his eyes. "Still, it must not have been that easy. She was hell bent on becoming the first female Kingsguard. I maintain that it was masterfully done."
  
  "It was easy actually. I had learned how uneasy the King's interactions with the Free Folk and servants made her and how she often felt embarrassed by Sandor Clegane's behaviour. She wondered why our King worshipped Clegane and always defended him when someone doubted his motives or capabilities. So I laid the foundation by speaking to her of my worries about some of the King's behaviour. I underlined how he did not always adhere to court protocol, had strange habits and was way too informal with the servants and the smallfolk. I stressed that the Queen is the epitome of regal behaviour. I lamented that Queen Daenerys had a big task ahead of her to temper her husband's at times way too informal interactions with those beneath him."
  
  Varys looked up to see Oberyn smile and ask him, "That was just the warm-up, I gather?"
  
  "Indeed." This time it was Varys who looked smug. "Next, I made sure that she overheard some servants gossiping about how Ser Gerold's had been forced by the King to accept her appointment. She found out that Ser Gerold equalled handing a female a White Cloak to breaking with hundreds of years of tradition and diminishing the esteem of the famed Kingsguard. Later that same day, she happened upon servants who were repeating parts of a discussion between Ser Gerold and the builders concerning the logistical nightmare, or better phrased the impossibility of adapting the close living quarters in the White Tower in such a way that a female could cohabit with six other males and still be afforded the necessary privacy a female needs at times. I made sure that they mentioned how the buildings that currently house the Dragonguards were more recent, more suited to allow for some private space to be created for specific female requirements. The servants also gossiped about how Ser Gerold had always been a stickler for tradition and refused to move the quarters of the Kingsguard elsewhere, the White Tower being more a symbol than a building to the people of King's Landing and to every knight that dreams to become one of the famous, honourable Seven. Ser Gerold would not change a thing. If Ser Brienne insisted on becoming a White Cloak, she would have to leave behind her female sensibilities. The Lord Commander would not allow for favouritism."
  
  "That did the trick?" Oberyn arched one eyebrow.
  
  Varys nodded self-deprecatingly. "I am afraid so. I had to forego my closing argument. I had planned to let you whisper in her ear that Ser Barristan greatly esteemed her and considered to train her as his successor going expressly against Ser Gerold who was too traditional and blind to her true potential. And I was about to let someone point out to her that that since the Queen was no mere consort but an actual co-ruler, the Dragonguard would rise significantly in esteem and importance."
  
  "An assignment which I would have executed with flourish." Prince Oberyn boasted. "Just as I gave a little nudge to Lord Tyrion by exposing the real character of his young rival vying for Lady Roslin's affections."
  
  "After I set Corbray up. Though I admit that it was easy. The only thing that Ser Lucas cherishes more than money, is to dip his cock in as many cunts as will have him. Few servant girls can resist him since he won the joust. You were merciful still. You could have outed him as someone who likes to fuck men at least as much as women." Varys gave him a wan smile.
  
  Oberyn raised his right eyebrow. "You forget that I am from Dorne and I have diverse tastes myself. There is nothing wrong with seeking pleasure with the same gender if everyone involved is an adult and consents. It is a different story when your paramour, betrothed or spouse is being lied to. In my case Ellaria is always present when I feel the need to spice up my sex life."
  
  "Enough, I beg you." Varys held up his hand. "You know I don't like to hear all the sordid details. Fact is that you were considerate and achieved your goal without causing undue grief. Now the dwarf can play the compassionate, patient listener to the woes of a wronged maiden since we made sure she got wind of at least two of her suitor's dalliances."
  
  Both men fell silent after that remark until an extremely loud noise coming from the workshop of the blacksmith startled them both. No cries of pain reached their ears after whatever had happened in the workshop and a blissful silence reigned for the first time since the start of their meeting. "Perhaps it is time to discuss our next steps?" Oberyn whispered. He was the first one to regain his senses.
  
  Varys waited until the noise resumed before he answered. "Indeed. Soon Bran Stark will move north and might not have time to help us intercept the ravens. We will have to pull our own weight again."
  
  "I am already on it. One of my daughters has boarded a ship of the Golden Company."
  
  "That would be Nymeria then?" Varys asked just to be sure.
  
  "Yes. As you know, Obara has been sent to the Reach to keep an eye on Lord Tarly. Given all Sam told us about him, I will not take any chances. The King will be blindsided and might walk into a trap if the man turns out to be a turncloak. Thoros is loitering near the border of the Stormlands and will send us word of any significant troop movements."
  
  "What about the border with Dorne? My birds must have a trustworthy contact there as well."
  
  Oberyn made a nonchalant hand gesture. "Lord Edric Dayne has promised to take care of that. We have got it covered, Varys. We've handled things for years without Bran Stark. Why wouldn't we be able to do it again?"
  
  Varys was not as confident. "You forget that we have relied heavily on the visions of Lord Howland Reed for years now."
  
  "He will still send us anything he learns. We have it covered, Varys." Oberyn once more tried to reassure his co-conspirator.
  
  Varys shook his head. "We can't leave anything to chance, my friend. I distinctly recall our biggest failure. The Queen was almost kidnapped under our watch. The only rumour that we caught, we both dismissed as unreliable."
  
  Oberyn sighed, realising that this was the reason why Varys looked so sleep deprived and that it had nothing to do with the King's suspicions after the opportune demise of the Queen of Thorns. He chose his words with care. "Thousands of people converse every day about at least as many topics. You are not one of the Gods, Varys. Things slip through the cracks sometimes. Hells, our schemes almost always slip through our duped party's cracks. These things happen. Be glad that the King and Queen are still safe. We've upped security and are extra vigilant. We can only do so much."
  
  Varys sounded dejected when he retorted. "It still feels like a major failure. Ser Barristan died on our watch."
  
  "Partly due to his own stubbornness." Oberyn's voice had a soothing quality to it when he tried to persuade his friend that he should not take all the blame. "I assured you that he was not poisoned. Maester Pylos confirmed my findings. I feel his loss keenly as well." Oberyn paused and looked at Varys a worried frown between his eyes. "Don't tell me that you've lost your edge, Varys. I need you to be totally on board with our next endeavour. Are we still moving forward with the poisoning of Cersei Lannister? That bitch is trying to make waves here in King's Landing even if she is imprisoned in the far north."
  
  Varys raised his eyes so he met Oberyn's and slightly adjusted his posture. It made him look more like the confident Varys that had been Oberyn's partner in crime for years. "I'm still on board. I hate to think what would have happened if that raven that we intercepted had reached Lannister men still loyal to her. That is one bitch that deserves what she has coming. I am hesitant to use a slow working substance though. I would prefer to make her death look more natural."
  
  Oberyn mulled this over for a moment. "I could use the same brain addling potion I used on my older brother for a while until he agreed to sign the abdication. But we wouldhave to use a stronger dose to make everyone believe that she has truly gone mad. Then I will have someone push her of a cliff and make it look like she jumped."
  
  Varys looked sceptical. "I don't know. The King would feel guilty. It would seem like the guards just didn't pay attention or even worse, they didn't care and allowed her to jump. Can't we make it look more natural? A stomach ailment that proves fatal might do the trick?"
  
  "That would arouse immediate suspicion." Oberyn scratched his kin deep in thought. "Perhaps I can take advantage of a typical female ailment. I know of a spice that increases the loss of blood rather radically during the days a woman's moonblood flows. Then in her weakened state, we can administer her a potion that induces a curable ailment like a running nose combined with a fever. A healthy person recovers without treatment from that. She however, in her weakened state, will develop a high fever and her heart will give out." He cast a triumphant gaze in Varys' direction.
  
  "That sound safer but perhaps more difficult to organize?" The eunuch fiddled with his robes.
  
  Oberyn was not easily deterred now that he had a course of action. "I always welcome a challenge. Let's discuss which of our reliable contacts in the North can be trusted to help us with this."
  
  A bit later that matter was settled. Oberyn studied Varys. "I hesitate to bring up the Freys but why is Lord Walder senior of House Frey still breathing? He is entirely paralysed. Is there no one among his descendants willing to smother the dictator who made their lives miserable with a pillow? Are these Freys all cowards?"
  
  "By now the deed should be done. Word will reach us any moment." Varys sounded sure. "My little bird recently discovered that a granddaughter of Lord Walder of barely nine namedays had been abused by the kinfucker in a most horrible fashion shortly before he became bedridden. The poor girl needed stitches in several places when he was done with her. Her mother was easily persuaded to become a secret kinslayer. She will have helped him reach the Seven Hells by now by suffocating him with his own bedfurs."
  
  "We should have taken action a decade ago." Oberyn grumbled. "I don't know which one was worse, that Craster type they told us of who lived beyond the Wall or Walder fucking Frey. But let us not dwell on that any longer than necessary. It gives me a bad mood and I'll develop more wrinkles. What are the latest reports of Winterfell?"
  
  Varys was only too willing to comply. "Robb Stark is starting to pull his weight. He recently signed a trade deal with Yara Greyjoy. The King will be pleased his cousin is getting a grip on things."
  
  "Or the letters that Eddard Stark has been sending north are keeping his stubborn Lords in check for a change and the lad is enjoying the females that are courting him in his own home." Oberyn smirked.
  
  Varys kept his face serious. "Prince Eddard will soon be travelling north. I believe there is no need for us to interfere there."
  
  "How about the Riverlands? Do you think the imminent marriage will prove beneficial?" Prince Oberyn had expressed his doubts more than once already regarding the choice of bride for Lord Edmure of House Tully.
  
  Varys looked resigned. "I will pray it is. The King believes so. That is the sole reason he agreed to it. The Queen will lose a lady-in-waiting any day now."
  
  "Well there's no going back now. We might as well put our support behind them and if necessary assist them without their knowledge." Oberyn still didn't look convinced though. "All right. That leaves the Vale. I heard they prevented a suicide attempt of Lysa Arryn. I think next time we should make sure she succeeds. Wouldn't it be better for her son? He will reach his potential more easily if he doesn't get dragged down again by his mother. The boy is scared already of her mad ravings and desperate pleas."
  
  "I wrote to Lord Royce once more urging him to make sure that the boy has ample protection when in her presence. Our King gave her a stay of execution. Let's at least try to be his loyal subjects in this matter, Prince Oberyn."
  
  Oberyn met Varys' eyes and seemed to consider this for a while. "I don't know. What about the possibility of young Robin being Littlefinger's son?" He admitted the reason for his reluctance. "Should we really watch from the side lines how that vile traitor's blood becomes the next Lord Paramount?" Oberyn crossed his arms in front of his chest not ready to concede on this issue yet.
  
  Varys sighed. "Again Prince Oberyn, let King Aegon make this decision. We'll make sure that his Grace checks whether Lord Robin is sane enough before we let our young King formally confirm his nomination of Lord Paramount of the Vale when the boy reaches his majority. Besides, this topic is not that urgent. You can bring up your suspicions of his true parentage after the upcoming conflicts have been dealt with. For now, the Vale is ruled adequately by its regent. Other issues must take precedence."
  
  "Then I'll be sure to raise the subject again in a few years' time. Are we done for today?" Prince Oberyn was itching to leave this noisy environment.
  
  "We are when we are talking about putting things in motion. I wanted to discuss another thing with you though. I am growing more and more worried about all this talk of magic, visions in the fire obtained by blood sacrifices, resurrection of dead people and I am not speaking of wights, but of old prophesies that are influencing decisions,... . You know what I mean. How do we stay on top of our game when we do not comprehend the different forces that are at work here?"
  
  Oberyn's answer came swiftly this time. "I think we should leave that to Samwell Tarly, Lord Reed, young Bran and the King. Let each of us bring our own strengths to the table. We deal in information and help our contacts carry out successful schemes all over Westeros. Let the others deal with the magic."
  
  "If only I could stay away from it all." Varys shook his head a bit forlorn. "The King asked me to have my birds search for magical objects in the Stormlands, more particularly amongst the Ironborn. How can I find something when I do not even understand what I am looking for? I can give my birds neither a description nor can I tell them what words they need to focus on since I the King gave me only a vague inkling of what the cursed things are supposed to do. The only thing I know for certain is that his precious dragons might be in danger."
  
  Oberyn let go of the nonchalant mask he always showed others and spoke with sympathy when he tried to instil confidence in his partner in crime. "Just do what you always do best. Listen to the songs your birds sing and bring the news to Aegon. He understands that you are not a miracle worker and are doing all you can. Perhaps he can make sense of words that have no meaning to us."
  
  "Things used to be so simple, Oberyn. Now we are planning to fight wizards, undead corpses and ice creatures." It was uncharacteristic of Varys to lament like this and show weakness.
  
  "We will fight them with the help of dragons, direwolves, wargs and greenseers." Oberyn pointed out. "We might have more magic working in our favour than against us. Repeat that to yourself a few times before you fall asleep at night. Perhaps it will do the trick."
  
  Varys nodded slowly. "I had been thinking of asking you for a sleeping tonic. I might combine both methods."
  
  Prince Oberyn gave him an encouraging smile. "Wise decision. A messenger will bring you the herbs along with the recipe. You only have to brew a tea, Varys."
  
  "Thanks, Oberyn."
  
  "You're welcome. I would hate to see you not up to standards. I need you on your game, Varys. The King needs you sharp as well."
  
  "No matter what, I will have King Aegon's back. We will have his back." Varys slowly rose to his feet.
  
  Prince Oberyn followed suit. "Indeed. Now let's head back so my ears can get some reprieve. The Gods know how long it will take for the echoes of this damned hammering to stop resounding in my ears. I concur that this is still the safest place in King's Landing to meet but those poor sods in there, don't they ever take a break?"
  
  Prince Oberyn didn't wait for a reply to his rhetorical question. He hurried outside and quickly disappeared from view. They always left separately. Varys waited a bit longer and then exited the small room as well, making sure he left no trace of their presence behind. He hurried as much as his plump legs allowed him. He would first set a few things in motion and then he hoped to catch his first decent sleep in a long while.
  
  "Rise, Lord Bolton. You are welcome to take a seat." Dany said to the man who was on his knees in front of them. Sitting next to Aegon behind the large desk she barely saw the Lord's bowed head and shoulders. Only when he obliged her and rose to his feet could Dany study him more thoroughly than the short glimpse she had been allowed before the young Lord had dropped to his knees. Dany's eyes swept over the flayed man on Lord Bolton's pink doublet. It made her stomach clench when she remembered the description of Robb Stark's ordeal at the Dreadfort. Aside from his attire, the young Bolton seemed handsome and strong. Aegon had told her that he was an accomplished horseman and was deemed a decent man. He resembled his mother's side of the family more than his father's and had not inherited the eerie pale eyes that had dominated both Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow's features. Dany's eyes wandered to his face and took in the brown hair that fell just above his shoulders and the warm brown eyes. He was cleanly shaven and gave her a shy smile when he sat down.
  
  "Your Grace, this is a welcome surprise. It was already a high compliment for me to be allowed a private audience with the King. For my Queen to be present as well, I don't have words to describe how great an honour I feel you are bestowing upon me."
  
  Aegon was the one to answer. "I asked my Queen to be present since one of the topics we will be discussing concerns a lady-in-waiting that is under her protection. She can also offer advice on another topic if you are willing to hear her out."
  
  "Of course, your Grace." He answered demurely.
  
  Dany couldn't miss that they had caught his interest. She was still not sure that she trusted his interest in Lady Shireen to be based on sincere feelings instead of political ambition. Aegon had smiled wanly when she had explained her misgivings and had remarked that perhaps now she understood why he did not fully trust Lady Margaery's attitude towards Sansa to be genuine.
  
  It had been difficult to ascertain Shireen's preferences. At first Dany had believed Shireen's reassurances that she only consented to interact with Lord Bolton because it was discourteous to refuse when a man asked so politely for her presence. She had insisted that their interactions had been no more than some innocent strolls around the gardens. Lady Ashara had only been too willing to assist the Queen and had tried to coax the shy girl to reveal her opinion on her suitor. Shireen had kept insisting that he was not a suitor, only an acquaintance, perhaps a friend who just as her was lonely in a strange environment.
  
  They had only booked some measure of success when by design, Lady Myrcella and Lady Margaery had insulted Lord Bolton's attire and attitude within Lady Shireen's hearing. The young girl had intervened and defended the young man even if she had done so calmly. Sansa had supported her side of the argument and afterwards had taken Lady Shireen aside to speak privately. Only then did Lady Shireen admit that she thought very highly of Lord Bolton and that he had become a very dear friend. Upon further prodding she even had confessed that she could envision falling in love with him if she was allowed to.
  
  "Have you given any thoughts to the future of your house, Lord Bolton?" Dany heard Aegon ask and focussed back on the discussion at hand.
  
  "I have, your Grace. I humbly ask for your help in clearing the way for me with the Warden of the North and the Citadel."
  
  "Then you have decided on a name, a sigil and words?" Dany asked him. She had been trying to imagine what sigil he might choose and might have tried her hand at drawing a few things. She had confided in Aegon that she would love to help design a new northern sigil.
  
  "Yes, your Grace." Lord Bolton's feature became a bit more animated. "I propose to name my house Newton and the Dreadfort could, after some modifications, be renamed as The Newfort. The builders are already making changes to the outer walls that will have a major impact on the outlook of the keep. The rest will have to wait until we have become solvent once more. I have not objected to my Liege Lords demands and will pay the fines but it will take years to recover from that."
  
  "Prince Stark informed me of the fines in details. The Crown also considers this necessary to preserve peace amongst the Northern Lords. I will not interfere in this matter." Jon stated firmly.
  
  "Lord Newton of the Newfort." Dany tried the words. "Not very original but apt, perhaps? Have you chosen a new sigil as well?"
  
  This time the Lord smiled openly. "I have, your Grace. I didn't take me long to figure that one out. Inspiration hit me and I am convinced I chose right." He withdrew a small scroll from an inner pocket. "It is better that I show you." Unrolling it carefully he held it out to them.
  
  Dany accepted it from his hands and Aegon's head almost collided with hers as they both bowed over an artistically drawn phoenix rising from the flames. The drawing was rich in detail, the predominant colours being orange and black.
  
  "That would be my new house's colours, orange and black, no more pink." He explained softly and Dany gave him an encouraging smile in return.
  
  Lord Domeric accepted the scroll when she handed it back to him and he took his time to arrange it back in a tidy roll and hiding it in his inner pocket close to his heart. He cleared his throat. "The words of House Newfort I would wish to be 'We rise to the occasion, stronger, better.' I already submitted my proposal to Prince Eddard, my liege Lord. He did not offer much encouragement but informed me that I needed royal approval before I could move forward with this."
  
  Aegon looked at her and she nodded slightly. They both turned to Lord Bolton and smiled. Aegon was the one to communicate their decision. "I will draft a royal decree and we can perform a short ceremony before the royal court tomorrow. Afterwards, I will send a copy, signed by witnesses to the Citadel so they can amend their records. This will be your last day as Lord Domeric of House Bolton."
  
  "Only if he has something suitable to wear, Aegon." Dany interjected. She had put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes when he turned his head sideways. "Lord Bolton should be able to symbolically remove the pink from his person and replace it with something that bears his new sigil. If not I would advise you to delay." The royal couple faced forward again and gazed at the young Lord with an identical question in their eyes.
  
  He blushed. "I may have asked a certain lady to embroider the sigil on a black coat lined with orange. Lord Gendry of House Baratheon was so kind to forge a brooch that I can attach to my boiled leathers so it covers the old sigil that has been imprinted. I can have new leathers made for me as soon as I return to the North."
  
  "Then the ceremony can go forward as planned." She heard Aegon decide in a satisfied tone. Dany was sure Aegon suspected just as she did who had embroidered his new coat."
  
  "How is your stepmother taking all these changes, Lord Bolton?" Dany asked him in a soft voice. "Is she still staying at the Dreadfort or has she returned to her kin in the Riverlands?"
  
  "Lady Walda, I mean Lady Bolton is my good-kin. She has expressed the wish to remain in the North under my protection. She is with child, your Graces. I'm glad that my half-sibling will be called Newton from the first day he or she draws breath. Lady Walda will always have a place at my hearth. I'll make sure that my future wife treats my stepmother and the child well. I hope the name change will apply to Lady Walda and her child as well?"
  
  Aegon spoke with what Dany secretly called his Kingly voice. "We insist upon that. The Bolton name will no longer exist after the ceremony in court tomorrow. Speaking of your future wife, I expect that you still recall the promise that you made me to marry a lady of my choice without objection?"
  
  Domeric swallowed. "I do, your Grace. And I stand by my word."
  
  "Then we need to have a serious discussion about your interactions with my cousin." Aegon replied his tone this time was even more autocratic than his average Kingly voice. Dany had trouble keeping a neutral expression on her face when she saw the young Lord pale before their eyes.
  
  "I, uh I hardly spoke to Princess Sansa beside our dance the other night. Or do you mean... I am not the only one to be tricked into sparring with Princess Arya. I did not mean to bruise her." When Aegon raised his brow and shook his head subtly to indicate that that was not the answer he was looking for, Lord Bolton added quickly. "I am sorry, your Graces. I spoke out of turn. Perhaps you might be willing to point out to me what actions of mine specifically caused you to question my behaviour?"
  
  Dany might scold Aegon later for teasing the man when he kept his stern expression and prolonged the misunderstanding by delaying a clarification. "Do you consider it noble conduct to get a young lady's hopes up? Exactly how many ladies are you importuning? Who did you ask to embroider your sigil?" Aegon accused stiffly and Dany would now certainly be chastising Aegon later. She saw the realisation slowly dawn on Lord Bolton's features.
  
  "You are not talking about your cousins but about Lady Shireen of House Baratheon. I will withdraw my attentions immediately, your Grace. May I ask that you be so kind as to relay my excuses to her for not showing up tomorrow as I already promised her that I would? I would not want to cause more pain than I already have. She might be offended by my sudden unexplained absence on the morrow."
  
  "I consider Lady Shireen a cousin of mine, Lord Bolton. Even if technically she is only a distant cousin, she is kin and under my protection." Aegon finally explained his earlier statement. "She also has a first cousin. I believe you have met Lord Gendry of House Baratheon? He is a dear friend of mine and her staunchest protector. You will face both my and his wrath if you hurt one hair on her innocent head."
  
  "I apologize, your Grace. Please do not think for one instance that I, uh that I intended to... ," he faltered. But then he straightened up and pointed out, "We were always chaperoned. Lady Shireen's honour is intact. We did nothing wrong."
  
  "Yes," Dany kept her voice neutral. "I saw to that. As my lady-in-waiting she is under my protection and it might well be that my husband and Lord Baratheon have to stand in line to punish you were you to behave improperly towards Lady Shireen." She exchanged a glance with Aegon hoping to convey that he had played with the young man's feelings long enough.
  
  "What are your intentions towards my Baratheon cousin, Lord Bolton?" Aegon asked him point blank.
  
  "I enjoy her company, your Grace. She is kind and understands being a bit of an outcast because of something outside of one's control. We talk. I hope she thinks of me as a friend." He paled. "You were talking about her all along. I didn't intend to raise her hopes in that way. I can only apologize again, your Graces." His eyes flitted nervously between them.
  
  "Her disfigurement does not frighten you?" Dany asked.
  
  Domeric Bolton's voice took a gentler tone when he addressed the Queen this time. "She assured me that she was cured and that touching it is safe. I believe her. Those who keep away from her because of it are fools. I told her so on more than one occasion. It pains me to see her turn that side of her face away from people in shame."
  
  Dany was still studying how his features softened while he talked of Lady Shireen when Aegon broke the silence. "I have been thinking of possible betrothals for you, Lord Bolton. I was considering several northern brides so your Lady Wife can help you regain the respect of the Lords of the North. Would you be open to another proposition?"
  
  "My vow was unconditional, your Grace." Domeric Bolton kept his voice steady, even though he looked rather pale. Dany admired his honourable conduct even more now that she was fairly sure that he was enamoured with Shireen Baratheon. She nodded subtly at Aegon.
  
  "What if I gave you the choice between a northern bride from a respected House who would bring a significant dowry to compensate for the fines or Lady Shireen who only has a paltry one?"
  
  Domeric Bolton rose out of his chair forgetting all decorum. He looked at King Aegon as if he suddenly had two heads. "You are serious? Assure me that this is a real offer, not a hypothetical one. Uh your Graces," he added belatedly and regained his seat. He looked from Aegon to her and back to Aegon as if to read the answer from their faces.
  
  "You didn't answer my question. What if it were a real offer?" Aegon insisted finally after a tense silence.
  
  "I would drop to my knees right now and humbly ask you for the hand of your cousin, Lady Shireen of House Baratheon."
  
  "Why?" The one syllable sounded accusing from the mouth of King Aegon.
  
  "Why?" Domeric Bolton studied the serious face of the young King not understanding why the man asked such a stupid question. Then it dawned on him. "Because I would have done so already had I been free to do so. I was not since I am bound by my vow to you. I care for her and would shield her from anyone who might bring her grief. I would pray to the Old Gods that she be granted everything she desires."
  
  "There would be conditions." Aegon warned him. "And I have not made up my mind yet."
  
  Dany decided to interfere now. "We propose a secret betrothal of at least twelve moons. That is, if you can get her to accept you as her future husband. You will be allowed to see each other, properly chaperoned of course. At the end of this period, if Lady Shireen is still amenable to accept you as her husband and the King and I are convinced that you will treat her as she deserves, then and only then will we discuss her dowry and make the betrothal public. The marriage can take place shortly after that. If however, Lady Shireen chooses to withdraw her favour or we doubt your sincerity, you will withdraw gracefully and in no way harm her reputation. In that event, you will marry a northern bride of our choosing."
  
  Aegon nodded confirming to Lord Bolton that what the Queen had just told him was the Crown's decision. "Are these terms acceptable to you, Lord Bolton? The only condition that I will add is that you will only be allowed to speak of marriage to her when you are no longer known as Lord Bolton of the Dreadfort. I will consent to conditionally and secretly betroth my cousin to House Newton, never to House Bolton."
  
  "I agree to all your conditions, your Graces. I will not disappoint you." The answer came quick and the young man sounded genuinely happy.
  
  "Then we are all agreed." Aegon's tone indicated that the topic was closed.
  
  Lord Domeric of House Bolton bowed and after being given leave to retire he hastened out of the room.
  
  Dany turned to Aegon, a frown marring her beautiful features. "Really? Did you have to tease the poor man so?"
  
  Aegon nodded. "I wanted to draw him out. See what he was made of. For that he had to be brought off balance."
  
  "And?" She looked at him, her expression having relaxed some.
  
  "He passed my test with flying colours. I have high hopes for this match." His warm dark eyes pleaded with hers to understand and share his joy with the positive outcome of the interview."
  
  "I'll forgive you this time then. But seriously, Aegon, you should have heard yourself speak. You always try to make us believe that you are not comfortable ordering people around and deciding their fate. Just now, you were playing with the lives of two people as if it was your divine right. At least that was the impression you gave Lord Bolton. I know that you were trying to help Cousin Shireen but I am sure that Lord Bolton saw no sign of the newly wed young man who is so besotted with his perfect wife that he wants as many of his subjects as possible to marry because of mutual affection." She gave him a quick kiss. "Now I have an appointment with my ladies. Don't forget to compliment us on our hairstyles tonight. We will be trying something new."
  
  Aegon did not seem in the least affected by her sweet reproofs and stopped her from leaving by kissing her senseless while he held her in an iron grip. "Still set on leaving?" His voice sounded hopeful.
  
  Danny nodded, her lips swollen her eyes dark with frustrated arousal. "I am sorry. If it helps, I feel just as frustrated as you. But we can't let word get out that we are no better than... you know. I was late yesterday for a robe fitting and two days before that we both were late for the small council meeting. We are a King and a Queen and should at least give the appearance of finding state matters more important than uh than coupling every stolen moment we can find."
  
  Aegon released her and performed a mock curtsy. "Then I thank my perfect wife for her wise counsel."
  
  "Yes, thank me, my ignorant husband. At least your loving wife is helping you not to make a fool of yourself. You should have granted Lord Bolton the same courtesy." And after giving him another quick kiss, she hurried out of the room before she changed her mind.
  
  The last night before Prince Eddard and Princess Catelyn of House Stark were set to leave for the Riverlands, Dany and Jon held a large banquet. A bard was visiting and had been allowed to play during the second part of the evening so dinner would be followed by an impromptu ball. Everyone knew that this evening they were honouring the role the North and more specifically House Stark had played in helping King Aegon to his current position of ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. All the northern Lords and their kin present in the capital were invited as guests of honour. Most of them would return to the North the same time their Liege Lord travelled to the Riverlands.
  
  Princess Catelyn, even though she should be devastated to leave the royal Court so soon after arriving, walked around the large room with her head high and enjoyed the attention. Jon had asked her to open the ball with him. At one time he had presumed that she would delegate the honour to Sansa so her daughter could have her moment in the spotlight in front of the entire court where many eligible suitors and their fathers were present. His hopes had been for naught. His Aunt had not even entertained the smallest hesitation before gracefully accepting. When he held out his hand to lead her to the dance floor, he made an effort to keep his face formal so as not to betray to anyone how Dany's words from yesterday evening suddenly popped up in his head.
  
  "If I ever get even half as stuck up as Princess Catelyn, you have my permission to set me straight." She had whispered. Upon hearing that, he had teased her and tickled her in places where she was particularly sensitive. Then he had asked her if she had been willing to put that in writing, motivating his questions with, "Once you're stuck up, you will denounce ever having said that." He had prevented her from voicing a rebuttal by smothering her words with his lips and they had dropped the topic altogether when Dany had once more begged him to finish what he had started. He had worshipped her body and given her his seed a second time that evening. He was brought back to the present when his Aunt made a comment about Sansa's gown.
  
  "It is indeed exquisite," he replied politely. "I knew the colour would enhance her already natural beauty, especially her hair." He saw his aunt agree with him and to make up for his earlier inattention he added. "Daenerys pointed out to me how masterfully Sansa has combined the current fashion with new little details that suit her tall maidenly figure. And I have to agree, your daughter is the beauty of the ball, Aunt. I'll be sure to dance with her next."
  
  "You honour us, dearest Nephew." His aunt held her head high and kept scanning the room while they danced, probably to make sure that everybody witnessed her moment of triumph. As custom dictated they had the dance floor to themselves for the entire length of the song. She would probably boast of this occasion for years to come and would exaggerate how all the ladies had envied her and all the men had admired her grace and style. Jon for his part was glad when the music died down. He bowed and offered her his arm. She asked him to escort her to the table where the Ladies of the North and a few of the Riverlands had gathered. Jon indulged her, going as far as to offer her a compliment on her dancing prowess when he gallantly pulled out a chair for her.
  
  Dany smiled at him when he returned to the high table. As soon as he was seated she had whispered teasingly in his ear. "I see that my lessons have finally gotten through that thick skull of yours, my King. You have just proven that you have begun to master the concept of charming your subjects into worshipping you. Princess Catelyn will revere you until the day she dies."
  
  Jon had taken her hand in his and kissed her knuckles ignoring the fact that they were observed by at least half of their guests. As promised, he danced with Sansa next and then led his Queen to the dance floor. For the remainder of the evening he did his duty and sat out only a third of the dances. He made it a point to dance with the two ladies that had accompanied the northern delegation to King's Landing before he asked any of the other ladies-in-waiting. Lord Cerwyn and Lord Glover had brought their wives. All the eligible maidens had stayed in the North. The Lords of the North preferred their daughters to marry among the First Men and stay in the north and his eldest cousin was still unbetrothed.
  
  Jon had received a letter from Robb revealing that Winterfell was entertaining the female kin of several of these Lords under the guise of seeking the protection of their liege Lord in the absence of the head of their houses. Robb had mentioned that the ladies had brought a minstrel with them and insisted on music and often also dancing in the Great Hall after supper. Dany had remarked when reading the letter that the fact that Robb wrote rather casually that he had not forgotten his dance steps did not sound like a complaint. If anything, she guessed that he was pleased with the extra company and entertainment. Jon had told her that no matter how often she re-read the letter, she would not find more between the lines. His cousin had not mentioned any lady in specific.
  
  Later that night when Jon held a naked Dany in his arms after a more than satisfying coupling, they discussed what they had observed in the Great Hall during their farewell feast. Jon opened the conversation. "I was pleasantly surprised to see Arya wear a beautiful gown. And she didn't step on my toes during our dance, not even once."
  
  Dany shook her head. "You shouldn't be surprised, my love. After all she merely adhered to your instructions. Sansa betrayed to me that it was you who convinced Arya to wear a beautiful dress and behave for one night so the both of you could be certain that her mother left on the morrow without her."
  
  "Still, she did more than I suggested. She accepted to dance with every northern Lord that asked her, Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and even the newly named Lord Newton."
  
  "Don't forget Gendry." Dany completed his enumeration.
  
  "Most memorable was her dance with Lord Umber though. I can still picture it. She looked like a dwarf or he a giant." Jon chuckled and kissed her hair enjoying this casual exchange. This was one of the perks of being married that he had not known about. Sharing your thoughts with your partner in such an intimate setting was the perfect way to conclude each day.
  
  Dany kissed the dimple in his cheek that always appeared when he chuckled. "Still, it was sweet and very good of Arya to behave for the better part of the feast. Only once did she slip out of her role when I caught her sticking her tongue at Lord Umber behind his back. I don't think anyone else noticed. What I meant to say is that she far exceeded expectations. Even Princess Catelyn now believes that Arya will make a perfect wife for a high Lord in a few years' time."
  
  "Not in the way she thinks." Jon answered. He regretted that he had missed Arya's short breach of propriety. He had probably been too busy doing the rounds, making sure that he stayed at each table approximately the same amount of time with Davos his faithful shadow. He wondered whether Oberyn and Lord Varys had noticed anything untoward about Arya's behaviour and if that was the case whether they would include it in their scheduled briefing of all the gossip - they called it intelligence - which they had overheard during the feast when they convened tomorrow afternoon
  
  Feeling predominantly pleased with all that had happened this evening, he was taken by surprise when Dany, with her cheek plastered on his chest, chastised him. "You should be more circumspect whom you dance with and how you treat them, Aegon."
  
  Jon stopped stroking her hair and lifted her chin so he could stare into her eyes. "I don't understand? I danced twice with you, once with the northern ladies and made sure I asked all your ladies-in-waiting."
  
  "That you did, my ignorant husband. You danced with Sansa first and smiled and talked to her throughout the entire dance. Your cousin was never in want of dance partners after that. After you performed all the obligatory dances, you asked her another time, which made her stand out even more."
  
  Jon was quick to defend his actions. "She is my kin and her parents are leaving on the morrow. She approached me because she wanted to surprise her father with something before he left and needed my assistance. We planned it during the dance." Dany moved her hand from his stomach to reach for the furs. Jon quickly helped her pull the furs over them both so she would stay warm. He drew her closer to him when they were both adequately covered.
  
  He started caressing her body almost absently with featherlike touches and could feel her skin respond to his touch. She sighed in contentment. He knew he was not playing fair by distracting her when she clearly wanted to talk. It was no wonder that she took her time searching for the right words to formulate what she needed to make clear. Her tone was soft when she started to speak again. "I understand, Aegon. But here at Court, appearances and perception are all that matters. Your dance with Lady Shireen was very cordial and you spoke a great deal. Your dance with Lady Margaery on the other hand was clearly a duty for you. You kept as much distance between you and her as you possibly could. Your gait was stiff and you hardly spoke ten words during the entirety of the dance."
  
  Jon's hand that had been teasing the nipple of her left breast stalled its movement. "The dance with Shireen was surprisingly pleasant and was one of the highlights of my evening. My normally so shy cousin talked the entire time the song lasted. When she stopped thanking me for the numerous favours that she insisted that I had bestowed on her, I teased her by stating that she had thanked me enough to fill her quota for the next twelve moons. Instead of reverting to her shy behaviour, she started to sing the praises of her secret betrothed. I was so pleased that she finally dropped her guard around me and treated me as her kin, as a confidante instead of her King, Dany. I was happy during that dance."
  
  "I'm glad for you, Aegon. However, it is a pity that this new entente happened in public. Didn't you notice that Shireen sat out less dances than usual after that? And Lord Newton was not the cause. He only danced with her once as protocol dictates for mere acquaintances. He didn't draw suspicion to them just as you asked him to. I could see though that he was jealous when several eligible bachelors paid Lady Shireen some attention for the first time. Your Baratheon cousin had more dance partners than Lady Margaery. I know that to you the whole concept that every favour you bestow on an unmarried noble maiden influences her standing at Court sounds ridiculous. It is how things are and a fact that you must bear in mind when you mingle with us poor females in public." She kissed his cheek softly and he understood that it was not so much a reprimand than some well-meant advice.
  
  Jon replayed some of the events of the ball in his mind and was obliged to admit that she was right. He had noticed that Sansa was being courted by all sides but had attributed that to the way she looked in her new dress. Lady Shireen's increased popularity he had missed altogether and he had tried to ignore the existence of Lady Margaery after their perfunctory dance. Now that Dany had mentioned it, he remembered seeing her dance once with Lord Dickon Tarly. However much he racked his brain, he couldn't recall seeing her with another dance partner. He nodded and kissed her hair. "You are right. I will try to do better in future." He tightened his arms around her. "What would I do without you, my love? I'd just be another stubborn man, not unlike many of the northern Lords we so often criticize. They have their heart in the right place but are unaware of how their proud, sometimes unpolished behaviour offends the sensibilities of these southerners." He smiled now and his voice sounded lighter. "Perhaps we should move our royal court to the North. There I might not commit so many breaches against the local protocol and Lord Umber's dance moves would have been loudly cheered."
  
  Dany returned his smile. "I rather liked how that situation turned out in the end." They both silently relived the moment. While performing a rather vigorous dance move in the middle of the dancefloor, the Smalljon had bumped against Lord Tyrion of House Lannister. Probably because Tyrion's short stature had made him invisible to the tall Lord. Only the quick actions of Lord Tyrion's dance partner, the fair Lady Roslin, had saved the imp from falling on his arse. Lord Umber had not been so fortunate. The Smalljon clearly already in his cups had started to laugh, while he sat there, unable to get up on his own. He had to be helped to his feet by two servants who diligently came to the big Lord's assistance when their King gave them a signal. In his loud booming voice the Smalljon had called to the musicians to resume playing and had declared with some humour that he would try his best to survive the rest of the dance even though strong northern Lords like him were built for other things than fancy dancing. A few suggestive moves of his hips had the entire northern host hooting and clapping to stop him from continuing with that to them very familiar jape. Lord Cerwyn had jumped to his feet and confirmed for all to hear that the Smalljon was indeed famous for lots of things in the north but it was not for holding his liquor. Umber had challenged the Lords to a drinking contest and the northern delegation had made merry for the remainder of the night.
  
  "Most will be quite hungover come morning. Not an ideal state to start a long journey on horseback." Jon kissed her lips now. One of his hands had taken up a journey to map out every curve of her body.
  
  Dany covered his hand to still its movement. She resumed her earlier topic. "You should have seen Lady Margaery take it all in stride though. Don't forget that she was the second in rank of all the eligible maidens in the room tonight, Sansa being the only one outranking her. I never saw Lady Margaery taking it out on the other Ladies that they drew more suitors than she did. At one point, I even saw Lady Margaery and Sansa standing unobtrusively in the corner of the room. Lady Margaery was fixing one of Sansa's braids that had escaped from her beautiful hair-do before anybody noticed something was wrong. They seem to have struck up a friendship, Aegon."
  
  "Perhaps," Jon still remained sceptical. "It could still all be a ploy to catch Robb through Sansa."
  
  Dany sighed and said. "Only time will tell. For now, I can't find any fault in her behaviour. If it was all a mummery, would she not break character at times?"
  
  "I refuse to further discuss Lady Margaery when you are lying naked in my arms." To underline his words, Jon started pampering her neck and breasts with kisses.
  
  "I'm tired, my love," Dany breathed softly against his cheek. "I think I am relaxed enough to fall asleep now."
  
  He stopped his administrations and gave her a gently kiss. "If you are relaxed enough to fall asleep then at least that part of my mission tonight was not a total failure. He repositioned their bodies so they were spooning. "Sweet dreams, my sweet." He kissed the back of her neck.
  
  "I wish you the same, my love." She answered and closed her eyes.
  
  Moments later he heard her snoring gently and fell asleep, the happy smile slowly fading from his face as his features relaxed in sleep.
  
  The next morning the royal couple broke their fast in the Great Hall in the company of the entire northern delegation. Princess Catelyn sat at his left side. Prince Eddard was given the free spot next to the Queen. The northern Lords, despite some looking rather hungover, enjoyed their last meal and boasted loudly about all they would tell the ones that had stayed in the north. Jon promised them to make a large tour of the Northern Kingdom when peace reigned in the entire realm. During their stay, he had made it a point to keep their feelings of solidarity with the new Targaryen Dynasty alive. He had accentuated his Stark blood by keeping Ghost close to him at every opportunity when in the presence of the northern delegation and had made sure that they had been served ale at each meal. This morning he had ingratiated himself by gifting them a few barrels of fine ale to ease their long journey north.
  
  Before they all left the table to prepare for their departure, he managed to exchange a few private words with Lord Reed and Bran who would also travel part of the way with his parents and the Northern delegation. Officially Lord Reed would resume Bran's training at Greywater Watch on the specific orders of the King. He had promised Bran to try and reach out to him every other day shortly before supper time to test how the bond through their direwolves was affected by the growing distance.
  
  Princess Catelyn had been persuaded to let Bran leave again when Jon had expressed to her how grateful he was that House Stark provided such loyal support to his reign and how Bran was an irreplaceable asset and perhaps the sole key to finding a way to defeat the great threat that loomed in the far north. Before letting her comment, he had changed the subject and promised her that he would take good care of both Princess Sansa and Princess Arya, mentioning in passing how well behaved Arya had been at the feast last night. Arya had looked happy when she danced with Gendry, a feat that had not escaped Princess Catelyn. Jon knew she already dreamed of her daughter being the lady of Storm's End and of Tully blood having a foot in yet another Kingdom. He had promised her that the Queen would use her influence to teach Arya how to use the proper courtesies at Court when the situation asked for it. They would find the right balance to let her youngest daughter train with her little sword and convince her of the importance to act like a real lady when the circumstances called for it.
  
  It was closer to noon when they stood in the inner courtyard to say goodbye to his Uncle, his Aunt, Bran, Lord Reed and the few Lords of the northern delegation that resided near the keep. They would meet up with the rest of their caravan outside the castle gates.
  
  The Northerners would travel the first part of the journey together with their Prince and Liege Lord. Their stay had been far shorter than the other delegations but the northern Lords didn't care for the hypocrisy of court life and some of the power games went right over their heads. They had come to do what they had planned to do and were eager to return to their beloved North. It was as simple as that. They had been granted two audiences with the King that they regarded as a fellow northerner and felt secure in the knowledge that this young King had an affinity with the North that no visit no matter how short or how long could change.
  
  Surprising everyone during their first audience, they had brought the King several gifts from their homesteads. It was an unprecedented gesture, one born out of the desire not to be outdone by the Free Folk. Sandor Clegane had persuaded the delegation to transport a gift from the Free Folk to their friend, the Dragonrider, who they wanted to congratulate for becoming the southern King. Ned had smiled when he had examined the crates of presents they had brought. The one from the Free Folk contained several fine bows and daggers. They had also included a rare fur from a shadow cat, a beautiful rug made from the skin of a white bear and a plaid. Nobody south of the wall had ever seen anything resembling that. The plaid consisted of several knitted squares of different designs, textures and colours all sewn together. Jon and Dany had admired it at length. The crate offered to them by the northern lords contained fine furs from animals that roamed their part of the north, wooden sculptures and knitted sweaters with intricate stitch patterns.
  
  Ned had explained the importance of these gifts to the royal couple "The Lords of the North are not ones to bring elaborate gifts. It shows that they value you, Jon. Of course the contents of the crate might have been inspired by the Free Folk's gifts."
  
  Jon had nodded absently having discovered the bundle of letters at the bottom of the first crate and recognised Sandor's scribble on a thick parcel as well as the decorative curls of Jaime Lannister's capital letters on another bundle that was addressed to King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name. He was sure he would enjoy the content of these letters at least as much as the thoughtful gifts."
  
  All in all it had been a rare and memorable visit to the capital and Jon was sad to see his kin and most of the northerners go. The black and orange coat of House Newton was the last to pass through the gates. Despite the fact that it had started to drizzle, Jon and Dany but also Sansa, Arya and Uncle Benjen stayed outside until the courtyard was empty. Shireen had left the yard the moment the last northerner had disappeared from sight. Arya ignoring the looks the two Kingsguards threw her had hugged Jon the moment that her mother was out of sight. Ser Brienne and Ser Jorah just smiled indulgently. Dany who had taken a step back when the cousins embraced noticed Arya's discomposure the moment she and Jon separated.
  
  "Arya," she spoke quietly and continued only when the young girl turned her way. "Perhaps you might want to spar with me once in a while? Being Queen, I have neglected my training more often than I would have wanted. I would be honoured if you would find the time to teach me some moves. I am not very proficient yet but I believe that you could teach me how to make the most of my limited height."
  
  Arya expression lightened and she straightened her posture. "Of course, Daenerys. Just let me know when you want to. I'll make time and already look forward to our first bout. Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."
  
  "Tomorrow after breakfast?" Dany asked. She hooked her arm with Arya's and together they headed back inside. Jon and Uncle Benjen exchanged a glance that spoke of their admiration for the way Daenerys had handled that delicate moment. Jon offered Sansa his arm and the three of them quickly made their way inside as well.
  
  Interlude 45: Little things matter
  
  Joni sat on a nice chair making sure no flour soiled his new breeches. He had already moved the chair back a bit but Gilean was kneading the dough with such vigour that he was worried he would get flour stains on it all the same and now was not the time for that. Soon the King would need his services again and it wouldn't do to fill the cups of King Aegon, his Queen and the other very important men who made all the rules, with dirty trousers. He made sure to savour the warm cup of tea with lots of sugar in it and the freshly baked bannock he had been offered before he had to return to his duties again.
  
  Lord Varys had been right when he had told Joni that his life was going to change and he would need more lessons now. Joni had not understood at first but had listened to the spy master all the same. He had learned many new things. Before it had been all about observing little things and deciding which details were worth not to forget and to relay these to Lord Varys as quickly and as accurately as possible. Now his instructions grew more complicated. He was taught what things he was allowed tell the servants in the kitchen and how to present some of these things a little differently in order to help the kind, young King.
  
  When Joni had bumped into King Aegon in the hallway some time ago he had almost wet his pants. Sure that he would be thrown out of the castle and perhaps even lose a hand or something, he had stood before the King pale and shivering and had not been able to utter a word of apology. But King Aegon had smiled at him, called him by his name and sent him on his way with a gentle admonishment to watch where he was running off to from now on.
  
  Next thing he knew, he had been summoned to Lord Varys' secret room in the middle of the day way earlier than his normal meeting shortly after dusk. Instead of being thrown in a dungeon, the powerful man had given him new clothes and had demonstrated how to behave as a cupbearer during important meetings where not even the King's squires were allowed to be present. The sword training lessons of the King's squires always coincided with the times that the small council met in the meeting room where they ruled all seven of the Kingdoms. Joni would be the only servant or better phrased the only not council member to be allowed entrance in that important room while they were discussing very important things. Lord Varys had asked him to swear his allegiance first. So Joni had solemnly vowed on his chance to reach the Seven Heavens that he would never reveal to any living soul what he would overhear during the short instances that he was present in that room.
  
  When summoned, Joni was to enter with a fresh pitcher of cooled water, make a bow in the direction of the royal couple and then approach the Queen's seat and fill her cup first. Of course the King's beaker was next and then he was to circle around the table to serve the others in the order that they were seated. As soon as he was done he was to leave the pitcher on the table, make another bow and leave the room. He had to do all this without making a sound. The first time Joni had set foot in the room he had almost stumbled over an empty chair, so awed had he been by the large table with all those wooden figurines arranged in neat formations. He had recognized two tiny dragons, several wolves and stags before Varys had coughed loudly at him. He had quickly filled all the cups without spilling anything and left the room, his face very red. It was only when he dared to breathe again in the hallway that he realised he had forgotten to bow in the direction of the King and Queen before leaving the room.
  
  It had been a big adjustment. What Lord Varys was teaching him was quite the opposite of what he had been doing up until now. But his master had explained that he was being entrusted with one of the most important duties in the realm and they had found nobody smart and loyal enough to trust these tasks to until now. He had warned Joni that he was going to be hearing things that nobody was allowed to know. Disaster might strike the Seven Kingdoms and the Gods might decide to turn their back on the people if some of the secrets the holy Seven shared with the small council were leaked to anyone outside of that room. The Targaryen King, so Varys had told him, had sensed that Joni was pure and honest and the only one capable of performing this difficult duty. According to Lord Varys, Targaryen Kings could feel such things and King Aegon had known it the very moment Joni had bumped into him.
  
  He sipped from the hot tea, knowing already what he would tell Cook and Gilean to appease them today. He started with a compliment first just as Varys had advised him. "King Aegon really liked the duck you served last night. The Queen was more pleased with the salted fish."
  
  Cook nodded looking bored. That was the best part of all of it. Cook never scolded him anymore. Not for real anyway. Sometimes he did it only for show but Joni could tell the difference. He made sure to keep up appearance though and never acted too familiar with Cook either. Another thing Varys had made him understand. Appearances and make believe were sometimes more important than the truth. The naked truth could make people sad or angry and lead them to make bad decisions. Little changes to the truth, a different word here or there could help people find the right solution. Each right decision however unimportant that it seemed on its own might help to make the realm a better place where peace would last, and everyone had enough food to fill their bellies. At least that is what Lord Varys had told him with absolute certainty and Joni knew of not a single reason not to believe the powerful all-knowing Master of Whispers.
  
  He paid attention when Gilean finally lost her patience and asked for some gossip. Joni knew she lived for the moments that she could entertain the other servants with a juicy bit of gossip and she counted on him to tell her something new that the servants would find interesting enough. Each bit of information he let slip would most certainly be passed on to other servants before they went to bed tonight. That was something Master Varys claimed was very handy sometimes and also necessary to make sure that everyone knew certain things so they could act in a way that would help all the people in Westeros lead better lives.
  
  "Do you know something about the handsome Lord who is helping the King make big weapons to defend the city? Is it true when they say that he likes the young dark haired Princess?" Gilean hadn't stopped battering the dough while she phrased her question
  
  Joni smiled. This was his chance. He could make them believe that he was willing to tell them all he knew in exchange for a warm drink and a tasty bannock and help Lord Varys and the nice King at the same time. Varys had assured him that spreading this little story would hurt no one and would help the King keep his cousins safe. Joni rather liked the youngest Princess. She also called him by name and once had let him pet the King's big direwolf, Ghost. Protecting Princess Arya was a good cause, one Joni would be willing to tell a little white lie for. "The Blacksmith Lord likes Princess Arya, that is right," he told her with his most honest expression. "But not as a husband likes his wife. They are best friends and Princess Arya is helping him find a suitable bride. I heard them talking about it when they were sitting in the courtyard with the big white wolf."
  
  Gilean now stopped kneading the dough for a moment. "Are you sure you heard that right? Last time you told us how he was making eyes at Princess Arya during their dance at the farewell banquet for the northern Lords."
  
  Joni was very pleased with himself. He had caught her attention. Another lesson of Lord Varys. 'Tease them and delay getting to the part they want to hear for a bit. They will pay better attention when you finally tell them and won't forget what you told them that way.' Now he could correct an earlier mistake. Lord Varys had chastised him for talking too much about Princess Arya in the kitchen. "I am very sure, Ma'am. The blacksmith Lord has his eye on someone else. But he is too shy. He thinks he is beneath the Lady of his choice. Princess Arya has promised to help him talk to her."
  
  "That dough will never get finished if you stand there gossiping like a fishwife." Cook grumbled and Gilean immediately started hitting the lump before her on the kneading table with renewed vigour."
  
  Joni shifted his legs a bit so he sat sideways and his trousers had a better chance to stay clean. He took another bite of his still lukewarm bannock.
  
  "Is the Lady of his choice someone that lives in the Keep?" Now Cook had taken an interest in his story and Joni noticed Gilean's contented smile as she revealed the few teeth she still had left.
  
  Joni finished his tea and was ready to jump from his chair and sprint out of the room. Lord Varys had warned him to avoid further interrogation when you had told them all you were allowed to. 'Keep away from temptation. That way you will not slip up when they keep pestering you for details.' He moved to the edge of his chair. "It is the red haired lady-in-waiting, Princess Arya's older sister. The blacksmith Lord fancies her. I think the meeting is about to start. I'll need to take up my position in the hallway." He could just see Gilean's mouth fall open in disbelief before he passed through the large arch that separated the kitchen from the hallway. Lord Varys would be pleased. Before supper was served half of the servants would be speculating whether Lord Baratheon really wanted to make Princess Sansa his wife. And tomorrow, some of them would tell this gossip to their masters.
  
  He stopped running after he had taken two right turns. He had circled around the large kitchen and stood before the door of the larder. He opened it just wide enough to slip inside. It was cold in there but he was sure it would be worth it. He wanted to hear their reaction. Would Gilean find his news believable enough to tell it to the other servants tonight? Even though he was out of breath, he tried to exhale silently to stay undetected.
  
  "... as stiff as the Stark Princes." He was able to capture the last part of Cook's sentence.
  
  "I rather prefer a man who isn't out to seduce each female servant he encounters. I am glad Lord Baratheon refused Sirai. She is a flirt and would lift her skirt for any Lord she deigns young and handsome enough. If he wants to be worthy of Princess Sansa, he should indeed behave like her father. God knows how many women, nobles and servants alike Prince Eddard has turned down already. Even when King Robert reigned, he refused to let the King provide him with the most expensive whores."
  
  "I have eyes in my head, woman," the Cook grumbled. "I bet you two portions of my finest wild boar stew that the blacksmith Lord fancies the dark sister. He will bed or wed the younger Princess as soon as she flowers, mark my words."
  
  "Every young man with eyes would prefer Princes Sansa. I believe Joni. I'll bet you a new tunic that I will sow myself if I am proven wrong." Gilean grunted between heavy slaps on the dough.
  
  Joni quietly slipped away slightly disappointed that only half of his audience had swallowed his little lie. Although when he thought about it some more, Gilean was the biggest gossip and would spread the rumours that she believed in. Cook mostly spent his free time brooding in a corner imagining new recipes or something and hardly mingled with the other servants. If he presented it that way to Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers would certainly be pleased. And Master Varys might even tell the King of Joni's accomplishments. Perhaps one day, Joni might get an even more important job.
  
  It was a good feeling to be able to help the nice King and the beautiful Queen. Joni had been sick with worry when he had learned about the attack where a White Cloak had died defending the Queen. He had pleaded with Lord Varys to be allowed to venture outside the Keep and find important news to help the other White Cloaks catch the bad people that would hurt the King and Queen who had brought peace to the Seven Kingdoms without hurting anyone. But Varys had told him that Joni had a more important job to do. And Joni would of course do whatever the nice King had ordered.
  
  He had scoured the entire Keep for the information that Master Varys needed. It had taken him the better part of a day before he had heard two guards speculating about it. Varys had been satisfied with his work and had urged him to keep on the lookout for this kind of gossip. Joni had noticed the same guards again a few days later. They didn't look well. Perhaps they had both caught the vomiting sickness? It had only been sheer luck that he had spotted them in a remote part of the castle near the latrines. Normally he didn't roam these parts of the keep but he had been going all out to look for anyone who accused the nice King of being a secret wizard. At first he had thought that Lord Varys had gone a bit mad. But when his master insisted that was what the King needed Joni to do, he had done his very best.
  
  Varys had explained to him that people might be suspicious because the young King had run so fast to the place where his Queen had been attacked. Since the King was not willing to betray the little bird that had brought him the news of the attack very quickly, it was possible that some people thought that King Aegon was some kind of wizard who could predict the future with magic.
  
  If Lord Varys knew who had such wrong ideas, he could convince them that they had it wrong and then the young King's reputation would be saved without anyone being harmed. Joni had nodded diligently not bothering to tell his master that he didn't need any explanation or justification. Joni would do anything to protect the nice King and his beautiful Queen. He had learned his lesson the first time and never used the word moonblood again. He was sure that that was the reason that he and almost all the other servants had been banned from the hallway where the Targaryen King and Queen slept now. Lord Varys hadn't told him this to his face but he had caught the big man mumble something to himself one time. Joni hadn't understood it al but he knew that almost everyone, including Cook, Gilean and all the upstairs maids were pleased that the young King slept in the same big bed as the beautiful Queen now and no other young Ladies were allowed to enter the royal bedrooms.
  
  Joni had learned a lot but he still needed more lessons. There were many rules he didn't understand. Varys had shaken his head in disapproval with the King's actions when Joni had revealed to him that he had found out that the King had taken advantage of the Queen's empty bed and had spent the entire night in it until Sirai had found him there the next morning. Joni had understood though. For once the King had wanted to sleep in a nice room and since the Queen was hiding in his modest room with the small bed, the King had not been able to resist the opportunity to sleep in the best bed in the entire Red Keep. Joni sometimes dreamed that he was sleeping in that a soft big bed. Now that the King had been officially moved to that nice room and could sleep there all the time, he looked much happier.
  
  Fortunately the Lords and Ladies had stopped playing hide and seek with the Queen at night. Even after Varys had explained it all to him, Joni still didn't get it. If they didn't want the servants to gossip about the King's sleeping habits, Varys should have forbidden the King and Queen to hide in each other's bedrooms. Varys had been angry when Joni had reported how he had overheard a servant girl boasting that Lady Margaery had won the game of hide and seek when she found the Queen sleeping alone in the King's small bed. All the servants who had been caught gossiping had been chastised but the severest punishment had been reserved for the servant who had discovered King Aegon sleeping in the beautiful room of the Queen and had not kept silent. Joni had been forced to tell Lord Varys that it was Sirai. He had not liked giving up her name having grown to like Sirai as much as Nila, but his duty to King Aegon came first. It was a good thing that after the beautiful wedding ceremony, the King and the Queen shared the same bedroom since that had stopped the nightly games of switching bedrooms. For some reason, Master Varys wasn't angry when the ladies-in-waiting had sleepovers even if he still wanted his birds to report who exactly slept where every night.
  
  He quickly made his way to the spot where he usually waited for the King to appear. It was a niche just around the corner of the forbidden hallway. The best place to spot the King as quickly as possible so he could alert the servants to fetch the pitcher with cooled water from the ice cabinet and have it ready before the King arrived. If the kind fat Lord was present, Joni didn't need to fetch that Lord a tray from the kitchen today. The King or his Hand would make sure that Lord Sam got his luncheon. Joni remembered his orders well. It was the little things that made the servants so invaluable to the King. And Joni was good at these little things. Lord Varys had told him that more than once. And Joni knew for sure that Lord Varys was always right. He now also believed that he had a special gift for helping the grownups deal with those little things that mattered and that this was precisely why Joni had become King Aegon's favourite subject and all the servants were nicer to him now. Joni smiled in his secret outlook spot, as he saw the handsome King appear. The handsome, nice King was without a doubt Joni's most favourite person in the entire realm.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Patience is a virtue
  Chapter 46: Patience is a virtue
  
  Summary:
  
  To Jon's frustration, Stannis Baratheon takes his time making his next move. Also he has to deal with a Master of Coin who takes his job very seriously. In the Riverlands it is not certain whether a wedding or a funeral will have to be organised first.
  
  Notes:
  
  Still unbeta'd. This chapter almost reached the 18000 words mark. For all those that are still with me, I hope you'll appreciate my efforts in these strange times!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  With the departure of the northern delegation, most of the nobles that had not been given an official function in King's Landing had returned to their lands. The royal court settled into a routine. The small council concentrated on domestic affairs for a while and many economic and trade issues were resolved. While they counted the days until news from the Stormlands would arrive, unexpected tidings came from the Vale. Lord Royce wrote that Lord Robin of House Arryn was very sick and Lady Arryn was losing her senses for real this time. They had to double the guards to protect the little Lord since his mother was raving about flying out of the moon door with him so they could be together forever. Lord Royce had stopped bringing the little Lord up to the Eyrie for visits with his mother. He wrote that his wife had grown fond of the boy and they had taken Robin to live with them at Runestone for now. He needed the King to confirm that these actions met with royal approval. His wife was confident that the sea air would benefit the heir to the Vale greatly. Two days later, a raven arrived that Lord Royce had needed to use violence to put down a revolt of a few minor Lords accusing him of foul play when Lady Arryn had been found dead in her bath tub with two cut wrists. Jon sent his unconditional support to Lord Royce and also the Crown's best wishes for a swift recovery for Lord Arryn. He would not send a royal emissary to the Vale for now but would send support if Lord Royce still had trouble maintaining order in two moons' time. Only if Lord Royce explicitly requested it, would the Crown intervene in the domestic affairs of the Vale.
  
  Gendry was working a few days every sennight in the forge and kept the building under lock and key. The first time that the dragons needed to heat the fires, they had done so at night after everyone had gone to bed. However, a few servants had noticed anyway, and word had spread that they were experimenting to make stronger steel with dragonfire. Varys manipulated the rumours so consensus was that they were making large super strong catapults to put on the walls of the city to defend King's Landing from a possible attack by hostile forces led by Lord Stannis Baratheon. It had the extra benefit that this helped reassure the people that their new King was going to protect them while hiding the main purpose of the renovated forge at the same time. For now, nobody suspected that they were on the brink of forging the first new Valyrian steel weapons in centuries. Gendry however had considered the ruse an extra challenge and was forging the iron parts for two large catapults from a batch of normal steel and if it was up to him, before the moon was out, two large catapults would be ready to be mounted very visibly on the two corners of the defensive wall that separated the Red Keep from the city.
  
  A few days later, Varys warned King Aegon that Tobho Mott had voiced his suspicions discreetly seeking out Varys personally and Gendry received permission to invite his old mentor to inspect the renovated forge and disclose what they were doing. When Tobho Mott had recovered sufficiently from the shock that his former apprentice was a legitimized high Lord, the master was awed when he was allowed to witness the second time that the dragons melted the mix of steel and dragonglass. He had expressed his regret that he still needed to attend to his own workshop, otherwise he would have offered his services on the spot. Afterward Gendry had discussed this with Jon. Jon had cautioned him that it would only draw more attention to his secret activities if Tobho Mott suddenly closed his famed workshop without any forewarning to assist a young smith in King's Landing. Perhaps they could find a compromise in the foreseeable future but for now all had to stay as it was.
  
  The next day the small council had to deal with attacks on caravans distributing food to the city and a minor outbreak of red fever in Fleabottom. But all this did not prevent Jon from anxiously awaiting an official declaration from Lord Stannis of House Baratheon.
  
  Dany had her task cut out tonight to get Jon to relax before they retired from their sofa to the large bed. He had apologised twice already when she complained once again that he was not paying her due attention, admitting that his mind was occupied with other things. As he mentioned that he suffered from a headache, she started to massage his temples. "Perhaps you should shorten your sessions with Bran." She ventured. "Contacting him every other day would probably be productive enough."
  
  "Perhaps," he hesitated, "I know I kept our link open too long today and that is why my head aches but you see, my cousin had some crucial things to impart."
  
  "Why didn't you lead with that instead of letting me talk about small matters? No wonder you were not paying attention. Can you tell me what news Bran shared with you?"
  
  "I enjoyed listening to your voice. Even if I didn't pay attention to the actual words, it was soothing and that way I had extra time to figure out whether what my cousin relayed to me was good or bad news. I am leaning toward good news though. You might even consider it great news."
  
  She stopped massaging his temples and looked a bit put out when he did not continue. "Do you need me to beg?"
  
  He startled. "No, of course not! I just needed a bit more time. You know me, Dany. I will not keep anything from you unless it would break a vow. Let me start with the practical piece of information that my cousin told me." Jon collected his thoughts. For a sennight now, he and Bran had attempted to connect regularly by warging with their respective direwolves and making use of the bond these animals shared. It had been difficult at first, at least at Jon's end. Warging into Ghost was second nature but keeping a connection open to Summer who was travelling further away each day and sharing thoughts to and from was a different exercise altogether. They had lost their connection more than once in the middle of their first sessions but after a sennight he had been getting better at it. Still it asked a substantial mental effort and he was dreading the moment that Bran would disappear behind the magical barrier of the great wall of ice. Lord Reed had warned them that if not the ever growing distance between the wolves would put an end to this manner of communication, then chances were that the magic embedded in the Wall would prove to be too much of an obstacle.
  
  "Bran warned me that he had a vision regarding the Red Priestess, who as you know is presumed to be in hiding somewhere in the Stormlands. He believes that she has a role to play in the Great War. He urged me to make sure that she survives the clash with Stannis Baratheon." He tugged Dany closer to his side when he felt her startle and he immediately knew why. "Yeah, my cousin is certain there will be a clash. So much for our hopes of a diplomatic solution."
  
  Dany stayed still, her eyes begging him to continue. She was clearly eager for him to reveal the good news that had gotten him so distracted. Jon gave in to her silent plea. "Another vision featured you though." He took her hand to help her deal with was he was going to impart. "My little cousin saw you riding Viserion into battle." He nodded when she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "He was very sure. You were defending the ground troops near the Wall at Castle Black. More importantly Bran did not see a green dragon and sensed that I was not in the vicinity but the morale of the troops was great. Everyone fought expecting to win. That reassured him of my fate. When I insisted that he ought to reveal all he knew and not spare me, he just repeated that in that vision you and Viserion acted as one, as a rider bonded with her dragon. He wished for me to focus on the focal point of the vision." When he looked up at her he saw a teardrop falling down her left cheek. He enveloped her in his arms and wiped the small drop away with his thumb.
  
  "I'm not there yet," she confessed quietly against his chest. It was the first time either of them openly voiced their doubts out loud since her first few solo flights on Viserion. "I never told you but he only tolerates me and doesn't respond to my signals. I know that you must have felt it when you share Rhaegal's mind and through him feel what Viserion feels and that you do not mention it to spare my feelings. Everyone was so happy to see me riding him that I didn't dare to disappoint them all." She raised her head and looked into his dark grey eyes. "Bran is sure of this?"
  
  Jon nodded while he stroked her hair in a soothing manner. "He was. I asked him twice. We will keep practising, Dany. Perhaps we can arrange another short trip to Dragonstone or the Driftmark. We'd be left in peace if we practiced there. We're safe from gossip mongers over there. They would not betray the strange tests and exercises I would put you through. I just need to give Ser Gerold time to arrange for adequate protection to reach the island before we do."
  
  "This is such welcome news. Why ever did you hesitate to tell me?" She gently extracted herself from him and turned slightly so she faced him.
  
  "The vision Bran described worried me, Dany. You were fighting the enemy in the air without me. You were in a dangerous situation and I was not there to protect you. I was trying to figure out what circumstance would force such a thing to become reality. I can't come up with a single explanation good enough to result in me abandoning you when the enemy attacks in full force."
  
  She looked at him. "I gather Bran did not know how that situation will come to pass?"
  
  "No, only that he felt that all was as it should be. He sensed that there was no cause for alarm and that I should keep having faith in you, in him and in Viserion."
  
  Dany nodded. "Isn't it good news that he is seeing the future again? I thought you mentioned that they couldn't anymore."
  
  "They haven't experienced visions beyond the Great War. This was during." Jon answered honestly.
  
  They held on to each other for a while. Jon was the first one to break the silence. "I will do everything in my power to help you with Viserion. We'll intensify our sessions. I promise I won't rest until we've figured it out. But can we talk about something else now? I have analysed Bran's words for the most part of this day and it only made my headache grow worse. I need to relax before we can retire to our bed." He kissed her hair once more.
  
  Dany nodded and considered this for a moment. Then she lifted her eyes to his face and spoke up keeping her tone light. "Did you hear the latest gossip? Half the court is convinced that Princess Arya is soon to be betrothed to Lord Baratheon if she isn't already. The other half believes that she is helping him woe Princess Sansa."
  
  Jon smiled when he heard that. "That's probably Lord Varys' doing. The other half, I mean. We do not want Arya to feel any pressure. No rumours about a betrothal between Lady Shireen and Lord Newton have surfaced yet?" Jon released a breath and relaxed some when she shook her head.
  
  "None that reached my ears, which means that my ladies-in-waiting are being very discreet." She added proudly. "And that, despite the fact that Shireen can't stop talking about him whenever we find a bit of time to spend together in private."
  
  "What about Lady Roslin? Has Lord Tyrion made any progress? Is she considering him as a possible suitor?" Jon stroked her hand and entwined their fingers.
  
  Dany looked down at their hands in his lap and leaned her head against his shoulders. "She doesn't talk about it. I am not sure. Lady Ashara has seen them together in the library talking quietly. Her brothers have left to bury their father but agreed to leave her behind. At the very least they will not force a betrothal on her while their House is in mourning. The death of her father gave her a period of grace. Chances are that the new Lord of the Crossing will be less desperate to marry his female kin off. When asked, Varys told Lady Ashara that Lord Stevron has already reduced the dowry of one of her cousins who is set to marry a certain Lord Myatt. Are you familiar with House Myatt? It is a minor house sworn to House Lannister?"
  
  "House Myatt," Jon nodded. "Their sigil is a spotted yellow-and-black treecat, on a mud-brown field. I recommend Lady Ashara for taking such good care of her younger charges. Appointing her was a stroke of genius," Jon commented.
  
  "Lady Ashara is quieter than usual though." Dany's voice had taken a more serious tone and she raised her head to look him in the eye. "I haven't dared to mention Uncle Benjen in her presence. Not after she had tears in her eyes when I made an innocent comment on her dance with him during the farewell feast for the Northern Lords."
  
  "Uncle Benjen asked me to give them time and I faithfully promised not to interfere," Jon confessed meeting her gaze. It had felt good to hear her referring to Benjen Stark as her uncle so casually. "I agreed because I believe all is not lost. I detected hope in his voice when he asked for my word so I am exercising restraint. I wouldn't want him to start avoiding me. I think this must be about the longest we have lived in the same place together. I am enjoying his company immensely."
  
  "I didn't realise you two spent much quality time together? Except for the small council meetings I've hardly seen you two together."
  
  Jon's thumbs stopped stroking her hands. "You know of our rides on the beach of course. He also regularly attends my morning trainings, annoying my squires by taking over some of their duties. We often meet in the Godswood when there is some time left before supper and you are busy with your evening toilette in the company of your ladies. We men need far less time to change for dinner." He leaned into her, a teasing light in his eyes.
  
  Dany playfully chastised him by ducking his attempt to kiss her. She only succeeded because Jon was still focussing on answering her question. "Uncle Benjen does have a knack for finding me when I am in between duties. Sometimes I suspect that he is bribing Varys or has his own little birds working for him. I could get used to it though. I'm glad he likes living here in King's Landing and we get to see each other often. But I do wish for him to know happiness with a woman and experience at least a fraction of the joy that I experience with you every day."
  
  Dany visibly moved by his words, now initiated a kiss herself. Jon released her hands so he could hold on to her to keep her from returning to her previous position. When they separated their heads, his hand still cupped her cheek and he enjoyed feeling her lean into it while she pondered the issue. "We can't force them to talk about it with us but we can keep bringing them together in the same space with other people present. Nothing too obvious of course but I could make subtle changes to the seating arrangements making sure that they can at least observe one another? We can get them to join group conversations and get them to talk indirectly with each other, small things like that."
  
  This time Jon leaned in to kiss her once more. When their lips separated, he kept close to her and murmured against her mouth. "I had thought to address the subject with Ser Arthur but I worry that that will do more harm than good."
  
  Dany put her arms around his neck. "He must be deaf and blind if he hasn't noticed that something is going on between them by now. If I were you, I would give it time, just as Uncle Benjen asked you to do. There are subtle changes in their behaviour. I am also inclined to define these as progress."
  
  Jon nodded and rubbed her back with one hand, his hand slowly venturing lower, the other was once more cupping the back of her head. He felt much more relaxed now and smiled against her lips when he felt her move closer to him. He gave her another short kiss and whispered something in her ear. She got up immediately and held out her hand to help him up. As soon as he was on his feet he swept her up and carried her in his arms to their large bed. There was one more thing that he had to do before he could close his eyes and sleep the night away. But this was one royal duty he would never tire of and which would make him even more relaxed.
  
  Day 70 in the reign of King Aegon the Sixth
  
  The first batch of Valyrian Steel was almost ready for testing when word finally came from 'King Stannis Baratheon the First of his Name.' It came in the form of an official scroll bearing the seal of a crowned stag engulfed in flames. It mentioned that King Stannis was willing to attend a parlay to discuss terms with the Usurper of his brother's rightful throne. After King Robert's death, the Iron Throne was now by right his to claim as the King's eldest living brother. The Baratheon King would only agree to a parlay on the terms laid out in this message. The one that claimed to be Aegon Targaryen had to be willing to come to a place of King Stannis' choosing and bring only a small retinue under a white banner to a still to be determined location in the Stormlands.
  
  "You can't seriously be considering this!" Ser Gerold exclaimed extremely upset when Sam had read the terms for the parlay that 'King Stannis the First of his Name' had just sent them during a quickly assembled extra session of the small council. "They tried to kidnap her Grace, the Queen. You can't trust them not to try something underhanded. A meeting on their territory hands them all the tactical advantage!"
  
  "What is the alternative?" Jon argued as he took hold of Dany's hand under the table because he saw her biting her lip. "We keep the stalemate? You know I want-no, we need to avoid bloodshed. We can't give Stannis Baratheon more time to find other allies. He will attack the moment he is confident enough that he stands a chance."
  
  "Perhaps you used the wrong tactic then. You made him believe that he is stronger than he actually is. We know he doesn't stand a chance, not against your dragons combined with the might of the other Kingdoms." Davos' calm voice interrupted them. "Why not refuse the parlay and battle it out. Use the strategy we put in place. We will squash his meagre forces the moment he attempts to cross into the Crownlands. Move your troops there right now. We will make sure every commander knows that they need to keep bloodshed to a minimum."
  
  "Jon hopes to get Stannis Baratheon to surrender without a fight if he sees with his own eyes how big and powerful the dragons have gotten." Sam defended his friend.
  
  Jon nodded. "And if that doesn't do the trick, we can give him the facts. I mean we will explain to him exactly how large an army he will have to face. Let him know that we have him trapped on all sides."
  
  Lord Varys shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this, your Grace. Stannis Baratheon is too confident. There is talk of a wizard who can neutralize your dragons. If you show up to a parlay on his territory and he does have a way to subdue or- the Gods forbid - kill your dragons, then you will be outnumbered, no matter how skilled your Kingsguards and you yourself are with a blade."
  
  "I concur," Ser Gerold nodded his head vigorously.
  
  Jon looked pensive. "I want this situation dealt with. Soon the reports from the Wall will change. I have told you before that each time that a short message arrives announcing that nothing has changed yet again, I am itching to fly up there for a few days to check whether they are not being fooled by the Night King in some way or another. It has been unnaturally calm over there. But as matter stand, I can't leave yet. Not for as long as I have to deal with a deluded fanatic who threatens my rule and the safety of my people."
  
  "What if you showed up with an army at your back and made a small adjustment to the location of the parlay?" Tyrion spoke up and all eyes turned to the dwarf. They had quickly learned that he was an asset to the council and not only for his way with numbers. He sometimes even interrupted the whirlwind of ideas Sam and Jon threw at each other at great speed during one of their brainstorming sessions and more than once had offered them a fresh perspective when they had gotten stuck.
  
  "How do you propose we do that and still get Stannis to agree to show up for the parlay?" Jon looked skeptical.
  
  "You are the stronger party in these negotiations, your Grace. You need not give in to their demands completely. I propose that you accept to keep the location of the parlay on Baratheon's territory but change it to a clearing within view of the border with the Crownlands. That is a fair demand." Jon saw Tyrion mentally grow two inches when Davos and Ser Gerold considered his proposal in earnest. The dwarf spoke with more determination when he continued. "Take a large army with you and let them make camp on your own lands near the border. Only you and your small retinue will cross the border and venture onto their territory adhering to the wording of their terms. You can hold the parlay well in sight of your army but on the Stormlands' side of the border. A clever compromise if I say so myself."
  
  "It will take time to arrange all that," Jon replied, mentally reviewing the time needed for the messages to reach his bannermen and how quickly a large enough army could be mobilised.
  
  "I bet they will grant you that time. Something tells me that our ennemy wants this parlay to happen more than we do," Tyrion was quick to defend his proposal. "Besides, what is their alternative? As far as I see it, they have none. If they can't get you to agree to some form of peace treaty, you will unleash the might of the combined armies of your Kingdoms and your dragons on them for sure."
  
  Davos exchanged a short glance with Jon and when his King nodded, his Hand addressed the Master of Whispers who hadn't stopped looking worried. "Lord Varys before reaching a decision, we will need all the intel you can gather. Is there no word of the whereabouts of the Red Priestess yet? She can't have gone up in smoke."
  
  "It appears as if she has." Varys answered apologetically. "Thoros of Myr has a theory about that. He informed me that the more powerful priestesses have the ability to mask or perhaps even change their appearance entirely. My little birds tell me that Stannis Baratheon is looking for her as well to no avail. He is rumoured to be desperate for additional guidance from the Lord of Light. Thoros suspects that she is hiding somewhere in the Stormlands in plain sight. But I will keep up my efforts to gather more information."
  
  Jon took over from Davos. "Thank you, Lord Varys. Maester Pylos, can you send out a call to our bannermen? Write to everyone south of the Neck. Ask the Lords to mobilise half of their fighting men each. That should be more than sufficient. Sam and I, we will compose the messages to be sent to Dorne and the Reach."
  
  "I'll see to it, your Grace." The young Maester was quick to respond.
  
  "Then we prepare for war." Jon said these words with a grave face. "I need you all to think of the task ahead of us. We need to plan the logistics, wagons, horses, tents, supply lines. I will let you all draw a list of what you think you can contribute to this. We reconvene tomorrow to decide on a timeline and assign all the tasks necessary to plan this campaign. I will use that opportunity to submit to your approval the reply to Stannis Baratheon that I will have drafted before I have it sent out." Jon rose and everyone followed his example.
  
  "Should we not invite Lord Renly of House Baratheon to attend our next meeting, Jon?" Sam asked.
  
  Jon considered this for a moment. "I'll inform him afterward. I want to make the decisions without his interference for now. That said, I'll make sure that he hears about the coming conflict with his brother before we send out the ravens to mobilise our bannermen. As matters stand, he is not an asset to our war council." Jon expecting no one to object, gave Dany a significant look and walked to the door without her. "Oberyn, join me in my study if you will?" Jon turned to his Hand as soon as the Dornish Prince nodded his consent. "Davos, I'd appreciate it if you would join us there as well."
  
  The three men walked the short distance from the meeting room to the King's study in silence. Davos nodded to Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold and closed the door. The three men took a seat. Jon positioned behind the large desk opened the conversation. "You were rather quiet in there, Oberyn. If you did not wear such bright colours, I would have overlooked your presence in the council room."
  
  Oberyn looked at the rich, ochre pigment of the robe that he wore over a light blue tunic. "The others voiced all the concerns that I had. I saw no need to repeat them."
  
  Jon watched Oberyn's vibrant personality emerge when the Prince smiled slowly. The Dornish Prince already looked more like his normal self now that he was shedding the apathy that he had exhibited earlier. After all these years, Oberyn's behaviour still confused Jon at times. He did not let this affect his tone when he spoke with authority. "I expect Stannis will ask Lord Tarly to move his troops to a location near the border between the Reach and the Stormlands, perhaps even invite him onto his lands the very moment that he learns that I have called my banners. He will probably ask the same of Dorne. I want to be kept informed of the slightest movement of the Dornish forces. We'll discuss the most practical location the Dornish commanders can suggest to Stannis Baratheon tomorrow."
  
  Oberyn narrowed his eyes. "You made me come here for that? You could have asked me this easily in front of the others earlier or during tomorrow's meeting."
  
  Trust Oberyn to be sharp as always. His earlier apathy had not lulled his brain to sleep. Jon gave him a wan smile and exchanged a glance with Davos. "I could have. You guessed correctly that I asked you here for another reason. What can you tell me about the political situation in Dorne?"
  
  Oberyn gave him a quizzical look but indulged him for now. "Still the same as when I briefed you not that long ago. My brother has put into writing that he accepts your claim to the throne and will help you fool Stannis Baratheon. There is no need to enforce the conditional abdication that he signed unknowingly."
  
  "And where is Prince Quentyn? Is he still enjoying life at his father's court?"
  
  Oberyn relaxed visibly. "Is this about him not receiving a harsh enough punishment for disrespecting Daenerys in Pentos? I heard my nephew's pirate wife has made it her life's purpose to make him as miserable as she possible can. And Jon, remember that no real harm was done to Daenerys and he won't rule Dorne. You do not have to receive him at your Court. I'll personally make sure that Quentin stays away and both you and Daenerys will never have to lay eyes on him."
  
  Jon exchanged another glance with Davos. Davos gave him a tiny nod as encouragement. Jon scraped his throat. "I have given the matter some thought, Oberyn. I have come to the conclusion that I have been remiss in not dealing with this earlier. Prince Quentyn is not the sole culprit here. He acted on orders, orders from your brother, Prince Doran, the current ruler of Dorne. Varys reported to me how Prince Doran does not repent his actions. He only deplores how they backfired. How can I let such a man rule over trusting subjects? How can I not punish the man who ordered a Princess of House Targaryen to be raped so he could gain more influence?"
  
  "My brother-he-uh," Oberyn faltered. He tried again. "Things are not black and white, Aegon. My brother-you see-he is constantly in a lot of pain. His affliction is getting worse and his suffering clouds his judgement at times. He wanted to make sure that he left a strong Dorne to his successor. He went about it the wrong way. I know that. You know that. I don't believe however that I can make him apologize to both of you formally."
  
  "You make our case for us, Prince Oberyn." Davos decided to help his King to stand his ground against his former mentor and close friend. "Your brother can't rule a Kingdom if his judgements are impaired by the pain he suffers from his incurable ailment. His medical condition will only get direr. Besides, just imagine that his son had succeeded in forcing himself on the Princess in Pentos. Is Prince Doran's crime less severe because his son failed? He gave the order and does not repent. If anything we were told that he chastised his son for not getting the job done."
  
  Prince Oberyn's sagged a little in his chair and looked at Jon, his eyes troubled. "Presented that way, you are right of course. What would you have me do, Aegon?"
  
  "How is Prince Doran's health now?" Jon asked softly. "Is it not possible to invoke the hidden clause in the abdication papers? Convince him that you are doing it because he needs to enjoy the limited time he has left to live? If what Varys says is true, he will die in a few moons' time if not sooner."
  
  Oberyn sighed dejectedly but acquiesced. "I suppose I have to thank you for allowing him that and not calling for a public punishment." He lifted his eyes not hiding his inner conflict from the young King. "You know that my loyalty first and foremost is to you, Aegon, even if you were to ask for my brother's head. I am ever so grateful that you are not though."
  
  Jon nodded. "Our friendship and your unwavering loyalty is the only reason your brother is given a chance to abdicate with his dignity intact, if not in his own eyes, then at least in the eyes of his people, of the realm and of posterity who will read a noble version of his abdication in the history books. I trust you to handle this without delay though. And I want to hear of an adequate punishment for Prince Quentyn. Use your creativity. I give you leave to hide his downfall from the outside world but make sure that it is a punishment befitting his crime. I want it made indisputable that neither he nor his descendants can ever rule Dorne, whatever happens to his elder sister, the Princess Arianne. You can be her heir if she dies without any issue. Or if you forgo this, your eight daughters in logical order."
  
  Oberyn stood with purpose. "You will receive a report of my brother's abdication for medical reasons soon, your Grace. I'll check the strength of the Dornish army that will pretend to be loyal to Stannis Baratheon's cause. I'll also oversee the gathering of a second force that will be yours to call upon if need be. These soldiers will stay hidden on the ships and will act only if you send the agreed upon signals. The matter concerning my nephew may require a bit more time but count on me to carry out your wishes in that regard."
  
  Jon was relieved that Oberyn took it so well and more than anything wanted to reassure the Dornish Prince that all was still well between them. He kept his tone friendly and encouraging. "I do count on you and trust you. You are my friend, Prince Oberyn. That is why we are discussing this between the three of us. I do not want House Martell to be disgraced. I hope with all my heart that Princess Arianne will be a good ruler and that House Martell and House Targaryen will enjoy a long and fruitful collaboration. When this situation in the Stormlands has been taken care of, you must arrange an introduction. I have yet to meet your niece. And I take this opportunity to remind you once more that my offer to legalise your daughters still stands."
  
  Oberyn nodded but only fleetingly met Jon's eyes. There was no longer any sign of arrogance or smugness. "If you permit me, Aegon, I will take my leave now and see to business."
  
  Jon admired his friend's composure. A casual observer would think nothing was amiss, but Jon spotted the troubled look in Oberyn's eyes that betrayed severe inner turmoil. He was quick to give his permission. "Of course, Oberyn. Will you still be present tomorrow morning when we reconvene our war council?"
  
  "I'll be there, my King. I'll make arrangements to leave immediately after." Oberyn bowed and hurried out of the room.
  
  Jon got up and circled his desk. He leaned against it and faced Davos. He ran his hand through the curls on his head and sighed. "I hated putting him on the spot like that."
  
  "It was long overdue, my King. It would have been disrespectful toward the Queen to let Prince Doran's actions remain unpunished for much longer. I was relieved that Daenerys exempted herself from this meeting. As soon as we are done here, go find her and tell her how it went. I'm sure she'll be relieved to know that you and Prince Oberyn are still on friendly terms."
  
  "Thanks for your support, Davos."
  
  Davos chuckled. "I didn't do much. But by all means, be grateful to me. It warms my old bones."
  
  "Then I gather we are done here?"
  
  "Not so fast, son. Why don't you sit down next to me?" He patted the chair that Oberyn had just vacated.
  
  Jon knew this was more than a suggestion. He obediently took the two steps that separated him from the chair. Before he sat down, he angled it so it faced his Hand's position.
  
  Davos nodded his appreciation with his charge's compliance but his face remained serious when he spoke next. "I want you to repeat to me again, word for word what warning young Bran Stark gave you in his last uh missive. I'm not happy with what was decided in there just now. Did you not tell me that you know that they will not honour the fact that it is a parlay although both parties will carry a white banner?"
  
  "We need to do something to get this conflict resolved, Davos. I will heed Bran's advice and bring Rhaegal, Viserion and Ghost along. They will be my eyes and ears. Bran stressed the importance of combining my strength with my dragons and direwolf. He also warned me to be aware of foul play. He said something about not trusting that our superior numbers would win the day if the enemy resorted to trickery or magic. Combined with his earlier warning that bloodshed would strengthen the magic of the Others, his words have rattled me more than I would like to admit. I pestered Varys for intelligence this morning until the man almost lost his patience with me and that is saying something. I have also written to Yara Greyjoy asking her if she heard rumours about Euron Greyjoy having a wizard and or any magical objects but I haven't heard back from her yet."
  
  "I am but a simple man who knows close to nothing about magic or about your bond with your dragons and direwolf. But is there a way that you could strengthen this bond with them even further? I don't know, do some mental exercises like you once told me that you did with your dog Max when you were just learning to communicate with small animals?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "Rhaegal and Ghost, I'd like to think that we are as close as we can get. Ghost is an extension of me and obeys my every command without question and Rhaegal and I-when we open our minds to each other-we are one entity. How do you improve on that?"
  
  Davos shook his head not taking his eyes of his King. "I don't know. But Bran Stark warned that they would go for a weakness of yours and despite the fact that I am still struggling with this whole concept of a young boy knowing and understanding more than we do, I believe him. I will do my utmost to ferret out what he means with this weakness of yours."
  
  Jon ran his hand through is curls a second time, a sign that he was getting agitated. "My love for Dany is my weakness. They attempted to kidnap her at least once already. We must keep her safe by all means."
  
  Davos put a hand on Jon's shoulder for support. "Even if you didn't love her, you would shield her from harm, just as you would go to any lengths to keep your kin, hells to keep all your subjects safe, Jon. But this weakness is also your strength, your biggest asset! Most of your subjects know of your reputation by now. 'The King of the people' they call you. Nobles and smallfolk alike sing your praises. They will fight and die for you if you ask them to, Jon. If necessary, Dany will put your interests, the interests of the Kingdom before her own as well."
  
  "I do not like what you are implying, Davos. I understand what you are hinting at but let us try to come up with a strategy that will ensure that it will never come to that."
  
  "Then I will go and do my homework, just as you instructed your small council to do. Now go and tell your wife of Oberyn's loyalty and willingness to punish his father and his nephew."
  
  Jon briefly hugged Davos and hurried out of the room in search of Dany.
  
  A few days later
  
  Jon swallowed another spoonful of a delicious stew and looked at the three young women that kept him company. After Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn had left, Jon and Dany had added this new routine to their schedule. At least once every sennight, the royal couple invited the King's cousins Sansa and Arya to share the midday meal with them in private, just the four of them and Ghost. Arya always begged to have the direwolf sit next to her. She spent time with Ghost whenever she could get away with it and consequently was often found in the Godswood when Jon was holding meetings.
  
  More than once she had slipped away from the knights that were supposed to be keeping her safe only to resurface when it was time for the next meal. It had taken a while before Ser Gerold admitted that he could not get a grip on the situation and agreed to bring Ser Jorah's worries to his King's attention. Jon had sympathized with their plight admitting that Arya was not the easiest person to safeguard and had promised to handle the matter. He studied Arya who was feeding Ghost a piece of meat from her plate. He loved his young cousin dearly. He was also proud of how readily she had taken his admonishments in stride. She had given in as soon as he had been able to convince her that she could be used against the King and that it was Jon who would end up being harmed if anyone succeeded in capturing her. She had promised to stop testing her protectors.
  
  It had also helped that Jon didn't restrict her activities overly much and that the lesson plan she had been subject to in Winterfell had been cut in half while she lived at court. She was allowed to spend the bulk of her time either training or in company of the people she preferred, these mostly being Gendry, Shireen and of course Jon whenever he could spare her some time. He also allowed her to take Ghost along with her when he didn't need his direwolf to protect Dany. Varys had stopped him in the hallway this morning and had whispered in his ear that Arya had been spotted playing hide and seek with her guard in the Godswood. Jon had just smiled knowing that this time it was a rather creative adaptation of an assignment Syrio Forel had given her. Ser Gerold made sure to include the short reports from Syrio Forel in the King's morning briefing at least twice every sennight ever since his King had interfered and solved the matter of his younger cousin's safety.
  
  "Jon, can I leave now? I promised Shireen and Gendry that I would join them for a walk. If I don't go now, we won't be able to reach the beach before I have to return for my lesson with Syrio Forel."
  
  Jon eyes wandered from Arya's empty plate to her hopeful expression. He sighed and asked in an exaggerated tone with a ridiculous pout on his face to make sure that she immediately understood that he was only teasing her. "Then it has finally come to that? You prefer Gendry and Shireen's company to mine, Cousin? And I reckon this traitor," he stared severly at Ghost, "will abandon me as well?"
  
  Arya had approached him with a pleading look in her big grey eyes. "Gendry asked after him. He likes Ghost almost as much as I do." The direwolf had wormed his way under the table and his big head rested on Jon's thighs.
  
  Jon looked down and scratched Ghost behind his ears a few times. He conceded without looking up. "And I owe Gendry for looking after Ghost when I left him in his care at Eastwatch. All right, it will do him some good to run outside. Ever since Summer left, he has been getting rather lazy." He let Ghost lick his hands before he raised his head and saw Arya's happy face. He changed his tone and used his royal voice to speak with mock authority. "You have the Crown's permission to withdraw, esteemed Princess of the North."
  
  Arya kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Jon! Bye, Daenerys. See you later, Sansa. If not before than certainly at supper. Come on, Ghost!"
  
  "Say hello to Gendry for me and inform him that I will visit him in the forge later today," Jon called after her and smiled indulgently when Arya and Ghost disappeared without casting another glance in his direction.
  
  "It is better this way than that that she is miserable and misses her parents." Dany remarked softly making Jon swallow the words he wanted to utter in defense of his cousin's impulsive manners. It seemed they were not necessary. Dany had taken no offence. He squeezed her hand but Dany had already turned her head and addressed his other cousin who had watched the entire scene play out without commenting. "Do you miss your parents, Sansa?"
  
  "Sometimes," Sansa replied honestly after putting down her knife and fork gracefully. "Mostly before I go to sleep. I sometimes spend the night in Shireen's room so we can talk each other to sleep. She misses her mother as well."
  
  Jon nodded pensively knowing Shireen missed her secret betrothed even more. Lady Ashara had informed her Queen that sometimes the ladies-in-waiting slept in each other's rooms. Sansa had occasionally shared a room with Lady Ilsa of House Ruthermont as well before that Lady had left a few nights ago. Sansa had also shared a room with Lady Roslin at least once that Varys knew of. Lady Ashara had assured Daenerys that it was all very innocent and when Dany in turn had informed him, Jon had seen nothing strange in it. It had resulted in him sharing more about the year that Robb had fostered with him at Greywater Watch and how they had shared the same room without ever entertaining the thought of sleeping in separate quarters. He still considered that year as the happiest of his younger years.
  
  "There is nothing wrong with keeping each other company when you feel lonely, Sansa." Jon smiled reassuringly at her. "Perhaps we should have made you share rooms as a rule."
  
  "And get their wardrobes mixed up?" Dany joked. "That could start a domestic war, Aegon."
  
  Jon held up both hands, palm's facing towards her and Sansa to signal that he surrendered.
  
  Sansa smiled warmly when she witnessed the banter between the royal couple. "I like it here, Jon. Will I have to leave once Mother and Father return to Winterfell?"
  
  Jon looked at Dany who helped him out by answering the question in his stead. "You are a Lady-in-Waiting now, Sansa. Until I release you from your duties, your mother is obliged to let you stay here. I will of course let you leave if you prefer to return home or if you need to do so after your marriage."
  
  "Like Lady Myrcella stayed and Lady Ilsa left?"
  
  "Exactly. Lady Myrcella was able to stay with us since her husband's duties allow them to stay in King's Landing. Lady Ilsa didn't have that choice. The moment she agreed to marry, she knew that she would have to go live with her husband."
  
  "Will you appoint another lady in her stead, Daenerys?" Sansa asked the question that the other ladies-in-waiting had not dared to voice out loud yet. But here in this private setting among family where Sansa was allowed to speak to them less formally, she felt brave enough to ask.
  
  "I do not feel the need," Dany replied after exchanging a glance with Jon. "I believe there are still enough of you left."
  
  Sansa nodded and gave Daenerys a sweet smile. "I never imagined being a lady-in-waiting would be like this. I thought we would have to perform the duties of handmaidens but Irri takes care of most of those and the servants keep your rooms clean and tidy. The few tasks you ask of us are more like things I would do for my siblings and that I enjoy doing like sewing a new colourful ribbon to one of your gowns, helping you making yourself beautiful for a stately banquet or simply keeping you company. Now that we are on the subject, I would love to braid your hair one day, Daenerys. Irri has been teaching me the more difficult arrangements and I have been practising on Shireen. Only her hair isn't as long as yours." She held her breath when she realised what she had dared to ask.
  
  Dany however looked unperturbed. "I don't see why not. You can assist Irri and one day when she is indisposed for some reason, it will be handy to have your expertise at my disposal." Jon had taken a hold of her hand again under the table to show her how much he appreciated her words. Dany met his eyes shortly before once more addressing her good-cousin. "Can we ask you something, Sansa? You need not reply if you feel like you are betraying a confidence."
  
  "Of course, Daenerys." Sansa dutiful as always replied immediately.
  
  Jon released Dany's hand and gently gripped her upper arm to stall her and motioned for Ser Rosby to take up guard outside the room. Dany nodded and waited until the door closed again before she continued the conversation. "Has Lady Roslin conveyed to you anything at all about her suitors?" Dany was the one to ask but Jon eyed his cousin without concealing his interest in the topic.
  
  "She doesn't regret their departure, if that is what you meant to ask. I don't think she would mind me telling you that she rejected further attentions of Ser Lucas Corbray after she heard he had been bedding a servant girl the entire time that he was courting her and he didn't deny it when she confronted him."
  
  "Can you tell us whether there is anyone in particular that she prefers now, or is she heartbroken?" Dany asked gently.
  
  Sansa shook her head. "She said that she realised that she wasn't really in love with Ser Corbray, only with the idea of being in love. Roslin also told me that it didn't matter anyway since she will withdraw from dancing and entertaining suitors during the period of deep mourning. She won't break protocol and will formally grieve for her father even if uh," Sansa faltered.
  
  Jon guessed she had been about to reveal that Lady Roslin did not have much love for her father and helped her out by cutting in. "Thank you, Sansa. We appreciate your willingness to help us."
  
  "I am helping her though, aren't I?" Sansa frowned. "You will not force another suitor on her now that I told you all this? She hopes she will be left alone for at least until the end of the period of deep mourning."
  
  Jon nodded a bit at a loss for words after Sansa's pertinent remark.
  
  "Can I ask, your Graces a question?" Sansa asked formally.
  
  "Of course, Sansa. You can ask us anything when in private. No need to go all stiff and formal on us." Dany smiled encouragingly at Sansa and Jon squeezed his wife's hand once more under the table to communicate his gratitude for handling this.
  
  "Is Arya secretly betrothed?" Sansa bit her lip.
  
  "Of course not!" Dany and Jon exclaimed simultaneously. "Why ever would you ask that?" Dany added after exchanging a glance with Jon.
  
  Sansa hesitated at first but then started to explain softly. "Mother hinted at it. She asked me to chaperone Arya but not to hinder her if she wanted to spend time with Lord Gendry of House Baratheon. She stressed that I should encourage it if I could do so without making it too obvious. I almost laughed in Mother's face. Arya always says she does not want to learn how to be a lady of a keep and vows that she will not let herself be married off to a man who only wants to put babies in her."
  
  Jon gestured to Dany that he would answer this time. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Sansa. Your father talked to me about the possibility of betrothing her with my friend Gendry in a few years' time. I advised him to allow Arya the opportunity to make up her mind first. We are trying to keep all rumours away from her so she doesn't get spooked. The only way we will ever get Arya to say vows to a man before a heart tree is if she thinks it was her own idea and that she is doing it of her own free will. She likes Gendry in an innocent way now and he is her friend and that is encouraging. I would ask you not to address the subject with her at all. If she is the one to bring it up, then let her come to me. I'll talk to her. Arya is still young. Her wishes and ideas regarding marriage might change as she matures. Then again, they might stay exactly the same. Promise me that you will send her to me if she starts asking questions?"
  
  "I promise, Jon." Sansa answered. Then she straightened herself and his normally so docile cousin used a defiant tone he hadn't heard from her before. "Will Father allow me the same courtesy? Will I be allowed to make up my own mind as well?"
  
  Jon heard the jealousy in Sansa's voice. He weighed his words carefully. "Your father has not exactly given Arya free reign. He just agreed with me that he could wait a few years yet to make a decision and Gendry is a high Lord." Jon sighed. He had been meaning to mention Edric's latest letter to her when he found an opportune moment. He reckoned that this was as good a time as any. Dany looked at him questioningly and he rubbed her thigh under the table signalling that he could handle this.
  
  "I received a letter from Lord Dayne this morning." The words had hardly left his mouth when two pair of eyes turned to him.
  
  "Is he all right?" Dany asked quickly to spare Sansa from having to beg her cousin for information.
  
  "He is well," Jon was quick to answer and reassure Sansa. "He asked me to convey his greetings to you both. He enquired whether I would be willing to convey a written message to a certain Lady." He nodded gently towards Sansa. "My friend Edric pleaded that it would be safe now that that lady's parents were in another Kingdom. He ascertained me that he would be willing to let me read what he wrote to her first."
  
  Sansa looked at him with moist eyes. "I would love to hear from him. I feared that you were not entirely truthful when you informed me that he left King's Landing because he was needed in Dorne. It was suspicious that we missed each other by just a few days. I figured that you were sparing my feelings and that he was avoiding me because he, because..."
  
  Dany handed a napkin to Sansa when her eyes overflowed with tears. "Aegon can vouch for Lord Dayne," she offered in a soft tone. "Perhaps Lord Dayne is as unsure of you as you are of him? Can you imagine how he feels when reports reach him of your activities here? He will have learned by now that you attended banquets and danced with several eligible suitors."
  
  Sansa carefully dabbed her eyes. "I don't have any serious suitors. Their ardour cools easily enough when I reply to their flattery only with one word sentences and make no further effort at conversation. Prince Oberyn gave me that advice. These noble Lords must all think me a dimwit." She smiled through her tears and looked at her cousin pleadingly. "Jon, please allow me to write a few lines to Edric or if not then at least quote a message from me in your next letter?"
  
  Jon looked at Dany who smiled and then he nodded at Sansa. "Write a small message but don't seal it. I will allow you to exchange short messages as long as Dany and I are allowed to read them as well. Consider us your chaperones to a written conversation. I will write to your father and inform him that you and Lord Dayne are writing each other with my consent and under my strict supervision."
  
  He was surprised when Sansa got up and circled around the table to hug him and kiss his cheek. He had received several spontaneous hugs from Arya but Sansa was usually more circumspect in her behaviour. He leaned over slightly when Sansa whispered in his ear. "Robb was right all these years ago. You are the best cousin we could ever have."
  
  Jon turned a bit pink and gently pulled back. "Thank you, Sansa. I always had your best interest at heart, even when I was forced to refuse Edric's first request to overrule your father's authority."
  
  "I understand that now. Mother was not so good at explaining it back at Winterfell but Father did a much better job in person after I arrived in King's Landing. I apologize if I caused you grief."
  
  "No harm done. Just promise me that you will tell me honestly if over time you happen to change your mind about Edric. You are only friends for now and are not bound to him yet. Keep an open mind, Sansa. So when the time comes to make a choice, you can make a well-founded one."
  
  Sansa blinked a few times and nodded. She had barely returned to her seat when Daenerys rose. "The King and I need to prepare ourselves for a scheduled court session. I will see you later, Sansa. Make sure to tell Irri about our plans."
  
  More than two sennights later
  
  At the end of another boring court session, his Master of Coins approached the throne and officially requested a private audience with his Grace. Upon hearing that the main subject was the current financial state of the Kingdoms and some questions Lord Lannister had after completing a thorough screening of all the books, Dany begged off and Jon set a time for the morrow. Tyrion was invited to join the King and his Hand in his study after they had finished their daily briefing.
  
  The next morning, near the end of Davos' daily briefing, Irri entered to warn the Queen that she was late for her next appointment. Daenerys excused herself and Jon looked at Davos. "Was there anything else? It must be later than we realised."
  
  Davos replied by handing Jon a scroll with a broken seal. It looked weather worn. "You might want to take a look at this."
  
  "What is it?" Jon questioned as he opened the dirty scroll.
  
  "It was hardly legible when it arrived. It was found near the border with the Riverlands still tied around the leg of a dead raven. Luckily a loyal man found it and the fact that it was destined for King Aegon the Sixth of his Name was still distinguishable. Sam and Maester Pylos dabbed it with some powder to make the letters a bit more visible. Then they wrote with ink over the letters again or something."
  
  Jon who had started reading during Davos' explanation looked up again. "Hoster Tully died and was buried a sennight ago? Uncle Ned left for Winterfell the day after the burial which was...", Jon quickly calculated, "... yesterday."
  
  "That is what we think it says, anyway. The next sentence mentions that Princess Catelyn stayed behind and will eventually return to the capital to reunite with her daughters after her brother's wedding."
  
  "and enjoy court life some more." Jon made a face.
  
  "Most likely the Princess will expect a banquet with music and dancing at least once every sennight." Davos teased.
  
  Jon ignored Davos' words already thinking of the repercussions of this news. "We must send out our condolences immediately and explain why these will arrive somewhat late. This also means we will have no way of contacting my uncle anytime soon."
  
  "Perhaps we do, son. As a father myself, I would find it strange that Prince Stark would not stop by Greywater Watch to visit with his son for a few days on his way to Winterfell. Young Bran and Lord Reed are still at Greywater Watch, I trust?"
  
  "Yes, now that you mention it, Lord Reed intended to wait for Bran's parents to return north before starting their own journey."
  
  "He is a father as well. Of course he knew to expect a visit." Davos stated matter of fact. Then he added playfully, "One doesn't have to be a greenseer if one is able to apply a bit of logic."
  
  "This will delay Lord Edmure's wedding with Lady Ruthermont with at least three moons." Jon continued to consider the fall out. "I wonder why the Queen has received no news from her former lady-in-waiting? We must ask Lord Varys to find out if our messages are being intercepted or sabotaged. I hope this is just a fluke but it does no harm to have him check it out."
  
  "I'll take care of it, son." Davos promised.
  
  Jon made a mental note to find Dany at the earliest opportunity and inform her of the demise of Lord Hoster of House Tully. Perhaps they could attend the wedding of Lady Ilsa after all. Three months of deep mourning would be the minimum period for a Lord Paramount to wait before holding the elaborate feast that they all expected. Jon reckoned knowing that Princess Catelyn was in charge of organizing the festivities that his aunt would settle for nothing less. A modest wedding so the young couple could start their wedded life sooner would not be to her liking. Perhaps it was for the best. That way Lady Ruthermont could get to know her future husband first before she had to bed him. Jon forced his thoughts in another direction. "Do you think Lord Tyrion will have been waiting outside in the hallway for long?" He asked his Hand. "Our briefing ran longer than usual."
  
  "I asked him to wait next door, where Sam is supervising the copying of this sennight's messages and marking where they should be filed. I'll ask for him to be sent in."
  
  "Wait one moment longer. I just realised, If Princess Catelyn will not return to the capital before her brother is wed, that means that the Blackfish might not be back in time for our confrontation with Stannis Baratheon. I had counted on him to be there."
  
  "We can discuss that tomorrow, Jon. Let us not keep Lord Lannister waiting any longer than we already have." Jon nodded and Davos hurried over to the door.
  
  A bit later, Tyrion Lannister showed up carrying a large book and a few scrolls. "Your Grace, Lord Hand," Tyrion started.
  
  "Please, Jon and Davos will do, Tyrion." Jon had lost count of all the times he had to tell his inner circle to drop the formalities behind closed doors. "And may I remind you that there are other ways to approach me for a private audience? I do not recall ever having refused a request from you to speak with me. You need not force my hand before the entire Court to be allowed in my presence." Taking in the dwarf's stiff posture, he suddenly felt apprehensive. He had been sure an honest friendship had been developing between him and Tyrion over the last moons. He was the first to admit that it had been a slow and hesitant process since he did not have a lot of leisure time to spend in Lannister's company but he had thought that they were well on their way. If Tyrion felt it necessary to act so formal, the coming conversation might be about more than just the state of the Crown's coffers.
  
  Tyrion made a formal bow hugging the large book close to his body. "I'll keep that in mind, Jon. I just surmised that since this was official court business, I had to go about it in the formal way."
  
  "Official business that you want to discuss with me in private instead of just putting it on the agenda of our next small council meeting?" Jon looked dubiously at the dwarf who had climbed on the seat with some difficulty after putting the heavy book on the large desk in front of him. The two scrolls Tyrion had quickly tucked away in his pocket.
  
  Tyrion looked a bit uneasy. "I wanted to give you the opportunity to hear my findings first so you still had the choice to bring these matters out in the open or not."
  
  "I am but a simple man, Tyrion." Davos interfered when he saw Jon grow impatient. "Perhaps you might come to the point instead of keeping us guessing?"
  
  "Of course." Tyrion took a deep breath. "As you know, I took up my duties on day fifty of your reign. Today we are day eighty-nine." He paused.
  
  "We can calculate simple things like that ourselves, thank you very much." Davos intervened before his King could. "That gave you thirty-nine days to familiarize yourself with the finances of the Crown. So please, by all means, give us an account of your findings or do you intend to make us guess?" Davos raised his eyebrow and stared the Master of Coin down.
  
  Tyrion swallowed. "I had the opportunity to go over all your expenses since becoming King. Some of the information seems to be-uh-missing?"
  
  Jon was about to dismiss this out of hand when it dawned on him. "You are talking about the expenses for the extensive royal fleet posted at several locations."
  
  Tyrion nodded relieved that the King mentioned the irregularity so calmly. "Yes, the wages for the crew, the cost of the equipment, food and the necessary training to turn each crew into the small armies that they apparently are as I heard boast on more than one occasion during our council meetings by the Lord Commander. I also cannot find a single trace of any expenses that I know to be necessary to prepare a campaign to change regimes. I know yours was bloodless, but you still had people in your employ, informants, messengers, guards and soldiers to feed. Someone needed to be paid to make all those banners, sigils and many other things I will refrain from enumerating just now. Certainly this is enough to get you to understand what I am asking?"
  
  "We do." Jon looked at his Hand and made a small gesture for him to speak.
  
  Davos started to explain. "Prince Stark, myself and other Targaryen supporters have been preparing for a long time to put King Aegon on the throne, some as early as the day that he was born. We had ample time to collect funds from sympathisers but the bulk of our coin was provided by House Stark. That is the reason why our King granted the North exemption from taxes for the first twenty years of his reign. The northern Kingdom almost singlehandedly funded his entire campaign, his fleet, his guards, the wages of our loyal servants, all those details you just mentioned and more.
  
  "Thank you, Davos." Jon smiled at his Hand. "Does this answer your question or are there other issues we need to clear up for you, Tyrion?"
  
  Tyrion frowned. "This vaguely answers my first question. I understand that you might prefer to close the books on what happened before you ascended the throne. It is honourable to keep the expenses of your campaign separate from the finances of the Crown. But as your Master of Coin, shouldn't I know the scale of what has been provided by the North and other benefactors since, or at the very least be told the exact amount of the funds that you still have available? Is there a reserve that you can still draw from? More importantly, I estimated the cost of the fleet stationed near King's Landing as well as the ships on Dragonstone and the Driftmark for the duration of a full moon. Since your reign started, not one demand for wages to be paid or bills for food have been put before me and not a single trace of any prior transfer of coin for these purposes is mentioned in the books. You must have had expenses to maintain the royal fleet these last eighty-nine days? Are you keeping separate books, or will we have to compensate a benefactor who will come forward with an exorbitant claim spanning several moons? The only other possibility that I see is that you are keeping silent about the fact that this fleet belongs to another Kingdom that is loyal to you and that it is in fact not actually a royal fleet?"
  
  Jon looked at Davos and both men were at a loss for words for a moment. Jon felt slightly guilty when he remembered the origin of their generous war fund. Lord Tywin of House Lannister had bought his life by signing over ownership of all the gold the members of the conspiracy could dig from a recently discovered, separate gold vein a bit out of the way from the main shafts of the Lannister gold mines. The crimes that the Lord had committed against House Targaryen, more specifically his role in the murder of Jon's half-siblings and their mother, justified taking the man's head as a traitor to the royal House that he had sworn to serve. It had been an unexpected development at the time. But a condition of the bargain that the Conspiracy had struck with Lord Tywin of House Lannister all these years ago was that under no circumstances, these details could be revealed to a member of House Lannister or anyone else, except for the few members of the conspiracy and some miners that could not be prevented to be in the known and who were all sworn to secrecy. It had been Tywin Lannister's desperate attempt to keep up appearances and save the legacy of his House. Jon had solemnly promised his uncles that he would keep the secret. Davos shook his head slightly and Jon knew that he needed to find another way to placate Tyrion's questions.
  
  After a small pause, Jon spoke up. "As Davos told you before, the expenses made before I reclaimed the Iron Throne were mostly covered by a war fund provided by the North. They will be compensated for this by a tax exemption that will last for twenty years. This is a most convenient way for the Crown to pay back such an extensive debt since this way we won't be crippled financially during the early years of my reign. Since I consider this matter closed, I won't trouble Prince Stark to provide you with the exact amount of coin we spent over the past seventeen years."
  
  Tyrion wanted to interject something at this point, but Jon raised his hand. "Hear me out first, if you please. Yes, there is still a reserve, a rather healthy one. The small councils gave Prince Stark permission to keep that separate from the Crown's finances. It will be used to pay for the war against the dead since most of that war effort will have to be carried by the North. But don't worry. Expenses will soon be flowing in. We will bear the cost of the campaign against Lord Stannis of House Baratheon ourselves. And your remark about the ownership of the fleet in the vicinity of King's Landing is a valid one. We will discuss this in our next small council meeting. It is a pity that Lord Manderly and Prince Stark have left the capital. I am sure that my Master of Ships has two separate lists one for the Crown's fleet and one for the Northern one. I'll ask him to send a copy of the one detailing the royal fleet, enumerating the names of the ships, the captain and the number of crewmembers for each vessel as well as the harbour they are normally stationed when not deployed." Jon gestured to Davos.
  
  Davos smiled at Jon. "Nicely put, my King." Then he addressed Tyrion. "The fleet stationed on Dragonstone and the one at Seagard in the Riverlands are for one hundred per cent a part of the royal fleet. The ships that are docked in the ports of Bear Island will be about sixty or seventy per cent royal fleet, the rest belong to the North. These royal ships will be reassigned to a more southern port once the army of the dead has been dealt with. Most of the royal fleet that was stationed at White Harbour has sailed to King's Landing or Dragonstone after being deployed at Hardhome. The ones still stationed at White Harbour and further north are mostly part of the Northern fleet and will be needed to honour the new trade agreements the north has recently sealed with the East, the Ironborn and the Free Folk. Only a few of the ships currently docked in Blackwater Bay are part of the Northern fleet normally stationed at White Harbour. The entire royal fleet dispersed over several ports of the Seven Kingdoms is about 300 ships strong. I agree that as a Master of Coin you need to have access to the necessary documents that define the ownership and number of crew for each vessel."
  
  Jon nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised that Sam has a copy of the list detailing the royal fleet. I will ask him. Well, Lord Tyrion, this means that you can put this item on the agenda for the next small council meeting. We have to make sure that the captains of our ships know where to send their expense accounts from now on. All the costs for the royal fleet that have been paid by our War Fund until they receive these new orders will not need to be repaid by the Crown. The tax exoneration will cover these as well. I reckon this is satisfactory?"
  
  Tyrion nodded, clearly not one hundred per cent satisfied but Jon's tone made it clear that this was all the answer he would receive today.
  
  "I trust the rest of the entries were in order?" Jon asked his Master of Coin.
  
  "They were, your Grace, uh Jon. I was pleasantly surprised with the results of my survey. The tournament appears to have financed itself for the most part. The total amount of taxes that the street of steel, the taverns, the brothels and the food stalls had to pay, exceeded my expectations. They all had to pay the normal percentage on their profit but since the tournament was delayed time and again and attendance was extremely high since more nobles than ever visited the capital to swear allegiance, they all had record turnovers. And this state of affairs continued for weeks after the tournament ended. Only recently have the taverns owners been able to advertise that they have rooms available for unannounced visitors. Consequently after all expenses the Crown invested to organize the tournament have been paid, there was a positive balance that partially covered the prize money for the champions."
  
  Jon smiled. "I know. I entered some of that personally in the books. Since we proved that holding a tournament doesn't necessarily bankrupt the Seven Kingdoms, I was rather surprised to learn of the large debt that the Crown is still obliged to repay the Iron bank in quarterly instalments. I'm afraid I was rather harsh when I questioned Lord Varys. During our debate I forced him to reveal to me the exact amount of the debt that House Lannister was forced to forfeit. I never would have guessed that it was so substantial. Robert Baratheon's spendthrift exceeded even my wildest imagination."
  
  "I'm glad that things have changed for the better." Tyrion offered lamely.
  
  Jon nodded knowing that they both were thinking the same thing. Cersei Lannister was not an innocent party in this matter. "Now that you raised the subject, I had been meaning to talk to you about ways to expedite the reimbursement of the Crown's still outstanding debt to the Iron Bank. I aspire to rule these Kingdoms free of debt. Dany, I mean the Queen has taken it upon herself to make an inventory of all the ornaments that we stowed away shortly after we arrived in the Red Keep. Many decorations were so ostentatious and in such bad taste that it hurt our eyes to look at them. Varys mentioned that some of these objects are very valuable and bought at the express demand of former Queen Cersei who was obsessed by anything that projected wealth. He also showed us rooms full of items that she had replaced when she grew bored of them and fancied something new. If we can trade all these items for coin, he estimates that we could clear at least a quarter if not half of the debt we owe the Iron Bank in one fell swoop. That way the interest we need to pay the Iron Bank each quarter will diminish as well." He fell silent hoping he had not further irritated Tyrion by overtly blaming a large part of the debt to his elder sister. Tyrion's next words reassured him though.
  
  "I will ask Queen Daenerys if I may assist her. I have several connections in Essos who are always willing to pay a nice amount for objects that showcase wealth. And tastes vary. The fact that the previous owner was a Queen in Westeros will only raise their value." Tyrion smiled hesitantly.
  
  Jon nodded encouragingly. "I am convinced that together with Daenerys, you will succeed in no time. Perhaps include Lord Varys in this. He also has many contacts in Essos. I will expect a progress report every moon, Tyrion. You can make mention of your interest in this project in the next small council meeting. I will forewarn the Queen later today. As you probably will have guessed, Davos and I want the Crown's finances not only to be balanced but also to be governed in such a way that we can start building up a reserve again."
  
  "Filling the royal coffers again!" Davos supplied nodding with enthousiasm.
  
  Tyrion relaxed visibly and the smile on his face was more confident. "Any Master of Coin would appreciate that. I won't disappoint you, Jon. If I may, there still is the matter of Stormlands. It seems King Robert never collected the correct amount of taxes. His brother paid a symbolic amount each quarter and the rest was acquitted. What they actually paid was far too little to be fair to the other Kingdoms. This has been going on for nigh on eighteen years. I calculated what they owe us in back taxes nominally, with which I mean without adding interests or a fine. The amount alone would help us repay another quarter of our debt to the Iron Bank."
  
  Davos shook his head. "It will not be realistic to ask them to come up with the entire amount in one instalment. Most probably we will have to draft up a payment plan."
  
  Jon rubbed his chin. "That makes you wonder what role Lord Baelish played in all this. As King Robert's Master of Coin, he allowed all of this to go on for years. He took out loans from the Iron Bank, accepted money from House Lannister and was starting to approach House Tyrell. If not for Lord Stark striking a deal with your house while he was still acting as King Robert's Hand in Winterfell, effectively annulling that part of the Crown's debts, not to mention all of us cutting back expenses the moment I ascended the throne and recuperating some of the funds that Littlefinger embezzled, the realm would have been bankrupt in a matter of years, perhaps even sooner if the Iron Bank had decided for some reason to call in these debts? How could that have benefited Littlefinger?" Jon mused.
  
  "It is no use racking your brain over bygones," Tyrion advised. "It won't change our current situation. Besides, I also came bearing good news. I brought you the first reports on the exploitation of House Lannister's newly discovered gold vein. The Crown will benefit substantially from the reformed tax decree." He retrieved the two scrolls from his pocket and after checking which one was the right one, he handed it to the young King who held it open in front of him so Davos could read it simultaneously."
  
  "You did indeed hold back the good news till the end of the meeting." Davos grinned when he read the amount. "You are a most diligent Master of Coin. Do you have a report detailing the future prospects as well?"
  
  Tyrion nodded proudly and presented him with the other scroll. "Soon, House Lannister will be one of the richest houses in the Seven Kingdoms again, Davos."
  
  "If not the richest." Davos nodded pleased with the figures he read on the report.
  
  "I'll have you know that this makes me feel much better. After learning the exact amount of the loan you were forced to forfeit, I felt rather guilty." Jon admitted. "It is very convenient that you are our ally and have sworn your loyalty to me. You soon will have the means to buy the services of all the sellsword companies in Essos and depose me."
  
  "As if Strickland would make a move against you, Jon." Tyrion retorted. "He would rat me out instantly. Besides, your dragons could destroy the Lannister gold mines in the blink of an eye. It is I who is lucky to be in your good graces. I wouldn't like to be reduced to poverty yet again."
  
  Then let us drink to a lasting alliance between our houses and a genuine friendship between you and me, Tyrion."
  
  Tyrion eyed the pitcher of water with a pout. Davos smiled and walked to the door. He stuck his head out into the hallway. "Renny, run next door and fetch a pitcher of wine, if you please. Joni will surely have prepared one for us.
  
  Moments later, Tyrion happily raised a cup filled to the brim with Arbor Gold. "To friendship!" He exclaimed proudly.
  
  "To friendship," Davos and Jon echoed, before the three of them drank deeply. It was a fitting end to a most satisfying meeting.
  
  Interlude 46: Princess Catelyn of House Stark
  
  Catelyn sighed when her father asked her to tell more details of how House Stark had successfully raised a Targaryen King and helped him ascend the throne without bloodshed. Ned and King Aegon were his new heroes. It seemed that the fact that his daughter was now a Princess and through her they were related to the ruling dynasty had revived the frail old man. His will to stay alive had returned and his cheeks had regained a bit of colour.
  
  When Catelyn had arrived at Riverrun with her husband, the Maester had warned them that in all probability her father had only days to live and was hanging in there because he wanted to see his daughter one last time. That had been more than a sennight ago. Catelyn had been shocked to see how thin and frail her father had become. She had immediately put aside her resentment for leaving her children and the royal court behind for the time being and had insisted on nursing him herself.
  
  She had barely seen or spoken to Ned since they had arrived at her childhood's home spending the majority of her time at her father's bedside. She had yet to forgive her husband for putting his foot down and giving Sansa and Arya leave to stay in King's Landing at the first time of asking. Catelyn had easily agreed where it concerned her eldest daughter. She had seen her beautiful Sansa shine at court. Princess Sansa was now a lady-in-waiting to the Queen and not only the highest ranked, but also the most admired maiden at the royal Court. It would indeed have been a shame to take her away from all that. It was bad enough that Catelyn couldn't enjoy her own moment in the spotlight, her duty calling her away to her family in the Riverlands.
  
  She worried most about Arya, that wilful girl, had shamed her more than once already with her impudent behaviour. And instead of berating her and keeping her away from official functions, not only Ned but also King Aegon had encouraged her youngest daughter by ignoring most of her trespasses or laughing about them benevolently within Arya's hearing. She was scared of what Arya's might become if unchecked but Ned had overruled all her arguments and they had left her youngest daughter at the royal court. If not for Arya's perfect behaviour at the farewell feast, Catelyn would fear the worst. Each time she started to despair, she recalled the kind words the King had spoken to her. Perhaps all would be well. Her royal nephew had promised that he would personally monitor Arya closely and help her learn how to behave. Even if Catelyn sometimes felt jealous of how Arya followed every order the young King gave her in his gentle manner, in this case it would work in her favour.
  
  She could forgive the inexperienced King a small breach of protocol here or there. King Aegon still needed to learn a lot himself about living at court since her rough northern husband had of course neglected that part of the young man's education. If only Ned had involved her earlier. She would have seen to it that the handsome King would have grown up with impeccable manners. He showed so much progress already. She could have seen to other things as well, but that ship had sailed. It was a pity really. Her Sansa would have made a beautiful Queen.
  
  She would have forgiven her husband sooner for leaving her daughters behind had he not allowed Bran to leave for Greywater Watch with Lord Howland of House Reed instead of accompanying her to Riverrun first. Her husband had used King Aegon's wishes in that regard as an excuse but Catelyn knew better. There was no way that the young King would voluntarily separate a young boy from his mother. He had more than once told her how much he regretted not having his mother or his father by his side while growing up.
  
  Nothing had gone as she had expected. Even though the King did give her preferential treatment and she had always been assigned a seat at the high table no matter how many nobles attended the stately dinners, she had not been allowed enough time to truly put her mark on the royal court. She had been forced to leave the Red Keep a mere sennight after her arrival with only her husband, Uncle Brynden and a fraction of their houseguard. At least Sansa's first letter had been reassuring and she had to admit that Arya's behaviour had been impeccable not only during the banquet thrown to honour her and her husband but also the next morning at the farewell breakfast and in the courtyard. Perhaps all would be well as the young King had tried to assure her.
  
  Princess Catelyn knew very well that the young King had used his good standing with her youngest daughter to convince her to behave especially on the last night under her mother's scrutiny. Perhaps leaving her behind would work out for the best after all. The young King had promised and Ned had told her more than once that his nephew was a man of his word even more so than Ned himself. Not that a good outcome would help Ned's case. If leaving Arya at Court would turn out to be beneficial for her daughter's future, her husband could take none of the credit for it. It was her unwavering efforts that were finally paying off, helped by a tiny nudge in the good direction from her dearest most esteemed nephew, King Aegon the Sixth of his Name.
  
  She smiled when she recalled how the heir to the Stormlands had looked longingly at Arya for the entire duration of the dance that her youngest daughter shared with a handsome Lord from the Reach. One of the Tarly's if she recalled correctly. Perhaps Arya would make a grander marriage than Sansa. She would have to think about that some more. It was time to concentrate on Sansa's marital prospects. Perhaps she had overlooked someone. It was a pity that Lord Willas of House Tyrell was wedded and bedded. If only Sansa had met Lord Tyrell before she had fancied herself in love with that Lord Dayne. The young heir to the Reach had stayed in their home for two moons and they had let him slip through their fingers. It had been such unfortunate timing. Catelyn was brought back to the present when her father coughed. She quickly finished her story.
  
  "It helped a great deal that my husband, Prince Eddard has uncontested power over these rough, stubborn northern Lords. He made sure that each and every one of them would heed the True King's call for support and they all kneeled to the son of Lyanna Stark without protest. In King's Landing, I witnessed with my own eyes how they worship the ground my nephew walks on. I've never known the northern Lords to shower anyone in presents. Well, they brought the largest trunk I had ever seen in the North and it was filled to the brim with rare items of great quality. I might have dropped them a hint or two to help them along but it was their own idea to bring the new King that they consider a fellow northerner due to my husband's influence, a token of their esteem. The King was most pleased and accepted the gesture with grace. King Aegon is a very well behaved young man even if he was raised in secret in a little backwater village on an obscure island amongst predominantly smallfolk. I assisted my husband where I could to complete his education on court protocol on the rare occasions that our dear royal nephew visited Winterfell incognito. King Aegon has turned out to be a benevolent, intelligent ruler with impeccable manners."
  
  If she had to tell the story again and again, nobody could blame her if she slightly enhanced the role of her husband and even her own negligible part in the unexpected success story that featured their Targaryen nephew. She conveniently forgot all the times that she had warned or cautioned her husband over the years. At one time she had even used real tears to plead with her husband to drop his doomed schemes that put their entire family in jeopardy.
  
  "Princess?" A servant had entered the room without her noticing. She nodded for the man to proceed. "Lord Edmund and Prince Stark ask for your presence in the Lord's solar."
  
  Catelyn nodded pursing her lips at the slight. The servant should have announced that Prince Stark and Lord Edmund requested her presence. She would tell the castellan to instruct his personnel to adhere to the correct protocol. Her husband outranked her brother by far. She kissed her father's forehead. I'll return after lunch, Father. Try to sleep a little in the meanwhile." She rose elegantly from her chair and dutifully tucked her frail father in so only his head was visible. She sighed when she looked upon the hardly noticeable frame under the thick covers. A servant walking past the open door of the sickroom throwing a hasty look on the bed might mistakenly think that it was empty. Now that her father had closed his eyes, tired from her prolonged visit, his face looked as pale as the pillow that his head rested upon.
  
  After one last glance about the room to check that she left everything in good order, she motioned her father's nurse to enter and hurried downstairs to the grand solar of the Lord of Riverrun. She had not often visited this room. It was oval shaped and had been a late addition to the castle. It had large windows in both walls facing south and west that provided a splendid view of the gardens and creeks. She envied her brother this room. Winterfell had nothing even close to it.
  
  Upon entering she greeted her brother with a kiss on his cheek and spared only a cold look for her husband. They had slept in separate rooms ever since their arrival. She knew her strong reactions to his edict to leave her children behind had been coloured by her disappointment of having to leave the royal Court only days after she arrived. She had only been present at one grand royal banquet where she had been the guest of honour. But as a Tully she could not neglect family, duty and honour. Her father was dying so she had not hesitated and had bid the King and the royal court farewell for the time being. Still that had been no reason to arrive without Bran or Arya. Catelyn couldn't remember a time that she did not have a single one of her children close to her since giving birth to Robb. She kept her posture stiff when she addressed her brother and husband. "You asked for my presence?"
  
  Edmund cringed when she didn't use the normal courtesies to address them but her husband kept a stoic attitude. He was a man of the North and was made of sterner stuff. Besides he was more familiar with her occasional bouts of ill temper. If she was honest, she had to admit that she rather liked the fact that he didn't bow to her every whim. He was exactly as a man should be. Perhaps she should let him back into her bed soon. She secretly enjoyed how he dominated her during their make-up couplings as if to make his final point after she had caved and they had reconciled.
  
  She studied Edmund some more. She rather pitied her brother's future wife if ever he made the effort and proposed to one. Ever since her brother had reached adulthood, his short letters and the accounts she received from her father had made her wonder about her brother's capabilities. Even if it went against her upbringing and against her loyalty to her family, she had to admit that in difficult times, she would prefer to have her husband's protection over her brother's. So it was no surprise to her that it was her husband who answered her question.
  
  "We have need of your organisational skills, my dear. Only you can put together a wedding feast worthy of the Lord of Riverrun at short notice."
  
  Catelyn turned to her brother and didn't hide her surprise. "You are getting married, Edmund? I didn't hear you mention any betrothal. Pray tell me who is to be the Lady of Riverrun?"
  
  "Lady Ilsa of House Ruthermont." Her brother gave her a hesitant smile.
  
  At least Edmure seemed favourably inclined to the match if his reaction was anything to go by. Catelyn watched his small smile turn into a broad one when she nodded approvingly. At least Ned had not pushed through on the stupid idea of marrying her sophisticated brother to a half wild parody of a lady of that strange northern house, the of Bear Island. She had strongly opposed that idea the first time she had heard it being mentioned. She smiled encouragingly when she addressed her brother again. "Lady Ruthermont was introduced to me at the royal Court. She seems like a nice, accomplished Lady. Congratulations, Brother. When do you plan to hold the ceremony?"
  
  "We would like to hold it as soon as my bride arrives. We expect her and her family to be here in a sennight at the latest. It is our intention to hold the ceremony the day after. We hope Father will still be alive by then. If not, we will need to wait out the period of deep mourning before we can marry in all decency."
  
  "I see." She turned an accusing look on her husband. "Did the Maester impart information to you regarding the health of my father that you chose to withhold from your frail wife, dearest?" She saw her brother startle at the cool, bitter tone she employed when she addressed her husband.
  
  "Behave, Catelyn! If only not to embarrass your brother! I thought I married a well-mannered southern lady. To answer your question, the Maester just informed us and we sent for you the moment he left the room."
  
  Catelyn's cheeks turned slightly red but she ignored her husband and turned to Edmure. "I apologize, Brother. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Please don't keep me in suspense. What did the Maester tell you about Father's health?"
  
  Edmure took both her hands and guided her to a chair. Both siblings sat down in opposing chairs. Ned hadn't moved from his earlier position and was still leaning against the large fire place that was not in use for the moment. "Even though Father had the appearance of doing a lot better, his heartbeat has remained weak and irregular. Where before he let himself go, now he is fighting to live but it will only buy him a few sennights at the most. We must prepare ourselves, Catelyn."
  
  Catelyn nodded and let her brother caress her hands. She hated herself for feeling somewhat relieved at the news. She had thought she would be stuck at Riverrun for an indefinite time. Her father was old and had lived a good life. She did not wish for him to die but the man that lay in that bed upstairs was not her strong father anymore. She had witnessed how he suffered when the nurses needed to wash him or change his bed linens. She had prayed for him to get better but if that was a hopeless request, then she would prefer things would speed up so she could return to King's Landing. Every day she spent here, she regretted missing the opportunity to revel in her family's newly obtained status at the royal court. She almost felt jealous of Sansa. She raised her head and presented a teary countenance to her brother.
  
  "Then I will start the wedding preparations at once. Father will see his heir marry with all the pomp and circumstance that is your due. Even if I hardly have any time to do it justice, I will move the seven Heavens for you if that is what I have to do to give you a proper wedding, Brother."
  
  Later that night, Ned visited her bedroom before retiring. "I'm sorry about your father, Catelyn. I know you got your hopes up."
  
  "Some of the children should have been here to say goodbye to him." She pursed her lips. "Have you heard from Bran yet?"
  
  "No Catelyn. It is too soon. I thought you would be pleased with the bride that was chosen for your brother."
  
  "I am." She sighed. "I am pleased. At least you heeded my advice in that regard."
  
  Ned took a step closer. "I always listen to you if you speak sense."
  
  "Not where it concerns Arya." She bit back.
  
  "Catelyn, Arya is my sister reborn. You can't cage her. That will only backfire. Trust me. I have a plan for our youngest daughter. We will get her a good husband, one worthy of our house and our standing."
  
  She looked up at him. "Lord Gendry?"
  
  "Yes, but that will only work if she believes that she chose him herself. Trust my word on this, woman and stay out of it. The King is our ally in this."
  
  "I don't like it if you call me woman." She pursed her lips.
  
  "And I don't like it if you question my authority in public nor if you insist on keeping me at arm's length because I have our children's best interest at heart. I am still your Lord Husband. You better not forget that again. I also came to tell you that I intend to travel home from here. If you want my permission to return to Court to join our daughters and stay there until Robb reaches King's Landing, then you will start giving me the respect that I am due in public. If not it will be a very long time before you see the Red Keep again."
  
  Before Catelyn could react, Ned had handed her a scroll and then turned around and left the room without uttering another word. She should have learned her lesson by now. Ned was not one to let his honour or his authority be questioned by his wife in front of others. She knew he would make good on his threats. She would have to start mending their relationship even if it meant losing face. Her goal was worth the humiliation she would suffer though. The only thing she wanted was getting back to the royal Court after things were resolved here of course. She would do her duty to her family first. She would organize a grand wedding, and a stately funeral. And then, with the consent of her husband, she would leave Riverrun and head in the right direction: south east.
  
  She sighed and sat down when she recognized the broken seal. It was a letter from Robb. She immediately started to devour it, yearning for the news of how her eldest and youngest son were faring. After she finished the long missive, tears ran over her face. She wiped them off and started to make plans. If she played her cards right, perhaps Rickon could accompany her eldest son when he came south.
  
  Two moons later, Catelyn had successfully reached her goal. She had fought tooth and nail to get them to ignore the period of deep mourning and had held the wedding after six sennights cutting the customary mourning period in half. She had not been willing to remain stuck in the Riverlands for three moons after her father's demise. Even though Lady Ilsa now of House Tully made an adequate Lady of Riverrun, it had not been easy for Catelyn to relinquish her position with the household staff. Her bags were packed and she would leave as soon as they alerted her that the horses were saddled and ready.
  
  She envied her husband and wished for the umpteenth time that she could have been born a man. Then she would have inherited Riverrun. Now the Riverlands would be run by someone without Tully blood. Lady Ilsa led her brother by the nose. That much had become clear to Catelyn only days after his bride had arrived. If only Catelyn had been born a male, she could have left before the wedding. Her husband hadn't stayed and waited for the six sennights to pass so her brother could wed with a minimum of decency. No, her husband had set of barely a sennight after her father had died. The moment that word came from King's Landing that the King could not attend, he had decided he could be missed as well. She huffed. She should be grateful that he had at least stayed a few more days after the burial.
  
  The only positive thing was that they had reconciled two nights before the burial ceremony. She had convinced him to come to her bed each of the few nights they still had together before he left. She had seen to it that he spent the entire night in her bed. It had not been so hard to swallow her pride as she had presumed. She had enjoyed their couplings. She remembered their last night especially. Her husband was a most considerate lover if he applied himself. It was a pity that Maester Luwin had declared that Rickon would be the last child her womb would ever bear. The next morning she had noticed Ned's seed sticking to her thighs when she got up. She would miss their couplings but not enough to induce her to leave the royal court before she saw her two eldest children properly betrothed, perhaps even wedded in the Great Sept of Baelor.
  
  Ned had left together with Uncle Brynden. They had planned to travel in each other's company until they reached the crossroad where her Uncle would turn south and Ned would turn north. Catelyn had counted the days until she could depart as well. Now she was finally able to return to the King's Landing. Upon her arrival, Catelyn would start her quest to find the best possible bride for Robb. Ned had tasked her to keep a keen eye on Lady Margaery of House Tyrell and a few other Ladies. At least he trusted her enough to let her handle the matter. And after Robb, it was Sansa's turn. It really was a pity that Lord Willas of House Tyrell had married. She had quite liked the quiet, polite heir to the Reach when she had gotten to know him at Winterfell. Ned had vetoed Prince Quentin of House Martell and when he had stated his reasons, she had immediately agreed wholeheartedly. If Sansa was still partial to Lord Edric of House Dayne, perhaps she should put him back on the list of possible husbands. She would prefer a scion from a ruling house but considering the young Baratheon for Sansa was out of the question for the time being. Lord Robin of House Arryn's health was questionable and he was rather young for her Sansa. Still she would keep him on the list. It also would do no harm to ask Ned who was next in line if the young Lord didn't recover. Anyway she looked at it she found no match for her eldest daughter that equalled the one they had in mind for Arya. Perhaps she should keep a close eye on the young Baratheon. The moment he strayed from Arya, he was fair game for Sansa.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter Jon continues to prepare for two wars.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Preparing for two wars
  Chapter 47: Preparing for two wars
  
  Summary:
  
  The title makes it clear what the main chapter is about. The interlude takes place beyond the Wall starring Sandor, Ygritte and Tormund.
  
  Notes:
  
  It seems my beta isn't returning. I proofread this myself as best I could, as I have been doing for some time now. Just let me know if some errors are really annoying you.
  
  A big thanks to everyone who is still with me. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Day one hundred in the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his name
  
  "My King?" Monty entered his room. "Lord Baratheon has reworked the breastplate and also made the other adjustments. He asks whether you can join him in the forge. That way he can make one last check."
  
  Jon rose. "Monty, ask Renny to inform the Queen of my whereabouts. He can meet up with us in the forge when he's done." Jon stepped out of the room and noticed Joni lurking in the hallway. "Joni, you can clear away my empty plate and pitcher. Give cook my compliments. The stew was delicious. I liked the extra onions."
  
  Joni hurried inside and was next seen running down the hallway skipping past Jon, Ser Oswell and Ser Rayford before the three men had walked twenty feet. They looked after him admiring the way he balanced the plate at the speed he was going.
  
  "At least this time he didn't bump into me." Jon smiled. He kind of liked the young boy. Some time ago, he had mentioned him to Varys who had confessed that Joni was one of his little birds and the very one who brought him the most gossip featuring Jon's actions. He had reassured Jon that most of the times the kid gave an innocent account of how the servants perceived what Jon did or sometimes, more importantly, did not do. Varys had chuckled when the last report had consisted of some choice words of a disgruntled maid who had not succeeded in flirting with the handsome King.
  
  After learning that, Jon had paid extra attention and behaved more circumspect when he saw Joni or other servants in the vicinity. One thing was sure though, Sansa's method of giving only one syllable answers didn't work in his case. If anything it made them more persistent and they sought other methods to get him to notice them. He needed to use all Ser Arthur's foot training to avoid servants from cornering him between some furniture or in narrow passageways so they could brush up against him when they moved past him. Luckily, the Red Keep had not that many confined spaces and he had even rearranged some chairs in their quarters. He smiled when he remembered how Dany had teased him when he had explained, beet red, why he had angled their love seat a bit differently. Dany had taken pity on him and helped him out with a more effective tactic. More than one female servant had been reassigned to a distant part of the Red Keep and the few he encountered now always averted their eyes after performing the obligatory curtsy.
  
  He couldn't fault young Joni though for reporting on him. It was clear that the boy worked hard, had the very best intentions and was loved by most of the servants. When Varys had reassured him that Joni could be trusted and was trained to never ever tell a living soul what he witnessed besides Varys, Jon had even suggested that Joni could take up the function of cupbearer during his small council meetings. A cupbearer was the only servant that had permission to enter briefly during meetings to provide them with refreshments. If a servant had to be present when delicate subjects were discussed, it was best that it was someone they could trust.
  
  Jon, Monty and his two Kingsguards exited the Keep and quickly crossed the courtyard to the enlarged building that housed the forge. It was pouring rather heavily and his coat was soaking wet when he arrived in the workshop. The first person he saw there was his little cousin who sat on a stool and was cleaning some of the tools.
  
  She jumped off her seat and hugged him. "I hardly get to see you." She complained while she clung to him not minding getting wet in the process. "Where is Ghost? Never mind. Seeing that he is not here, he can only be with Daenerys. Do you have time to spar later? I learned some nice moves. I bet I can duck under most of your swings now."
  
  Jon disentangled her arms from his torso when he realised now was the time to get a word in when Arya paused for breath. "Come to my private training yard tomorrow morning. You can show me then." He promised her then tugged at the apron she was wearing. "Are you a blacksmith's apprentice now as well as a future knight?" He nodded toward the tools she had been cleaning.
  
  "I left Sansa with the other ladies. They were just doing some boring stuff. I wanted to sneak off somewhere with Gendry but he said he needed to finish your armour first. It is awesome, Jon! He just went to the backroom to assemble all the pieces and told me if I wanted to stay and watch you try it on, I had to make myself useful in the meantime."
  
  "I see." Jon looked sternly at Monty who had been mocking the Stark Princess when he thought his King was not paying attention to him. "Monty, finish what Princess Arya was doing. She and I will join Lord Baratheon in the back room. You will stay here. If Renny joins you, he can assist you. Don't move from this table until I instruct you otherwise." Jon watched Monty's face fall but he ignored it and without changing his stern expression, he gestured for the young boy to get on with it. Then he followed Arya who was glad to have an excuse to enter the backroom with all the new super-secret Valyrian weapons.
  
  Gendry was in the process of securing the cuisses to the poleyns and barely looked up when the two of them entered the large back room. "I widened the cuisses and the rerebraces so they'll be less tight. Just give me a few more moments."
  
  Arya with a cloth in her hands picked up the pristinely polished dark breastplate making sure only the cloth touched the plate so she left no fingerprints. Jon reckoned that she must have been reprimanded by Gendry at one time and the lesson had clearly stuck. "Are these real rubies?" She turned to Jon with her big eyes.
  
  He swallowed when he almost drowned into the innocent version of his own eyes that looked at him with not only awe for the rubies but also unconditional trust that whatever answer he would provide, she would believe without question. He nodded. "They were a gift from House Celtigar. I had Gendry set them in the exact same spots as"
  
  "As Prince Rhaegar's!" Arya cut him off by finishing his sentence enthusiastically. "Oh and look at these pauldrons!" She studied them more closely and Jon could have sworn her grey Stark eyes widened even more. "I bet that Prince Rhaegar did not have a direwolf on his armour."
  
  "No he didn't." Jon smiled in reaction to the unspoken approval that emanated from her entire demeanour and studied the tiny direwolf looking up at the three intertwined dragons. "That marks it as mine."
  
  "The Northern Lords love your sigil, Jon." Arya told him proudly. "They say you are more a man of the North than a Southerner. Don't shake your head. That is the greatest compliment they could ever give you."
  
  "Well, then I humbly accept it, my favourite cousin. Will you help Gendry put on this armour or do I need to call my squires in here?"
  
  "I can manage." She looked over to the man she proclaimed to be her second best friend and smiled when the new Lord Baratheon nodded. "With Gendry's help we'll have you fitted in no time." She picked up the padded armour from a side table.
  
  It took some doing, but eventually Jon was covered from head to toe with his new Valyrian Steel armour. Gendry used a cloth to wipe away some finger prints from where they had needed to hold the armour in place to strap it tightly together. He circled Jon a few times asking him to move a limb in a certain direction, or to bend left, right and bow forward.
  
  "I can't believe how light it feels." Jon admired the full harness. "You outdid yourself, Gendry. I owe you. Thanks ever so much."
  
  "You'll need something to adorn the top of the helmet." Arya remarked when Gendry kept silent, his eyes still diligently studying the way the different parts of the harness behaved as Jon moved. She had been following the proceedings with interest and had been quick to adjust the rerebrace on Jon's left knee slightly so Gendry did not need to bend his big frame to reach it.
  
  Jon silently admitted that Arya had shown more patience than him at one instance when they had needed several tries before his gauntlet functioned properly. He opened his visor to look at her and tentatively shook his head testing out the flexibility of the gorget. "I don't think so, Arya."
  
  She pouted. "Right now it is just like any other helmet and people will not recognise you from a distance."
  
  "Those close to me will see the rubies and know who I am. My enemies do not need to have a clear target from afar."
  
  "They will soon come to recognise the colour of your armour, Jon." Gendry cautioned.
  
  Jon turned his attention to his friend noticing that the blush on his cheeks that his praise had put there had not entirely receded yet. An idea formed in his head but first he needed to finish what he came here to do. "You will make more pieces like this, Gendry. Perhaps not many full body harnesses but most certainly several breast plates and helmets. The colour of my armour will not stand out when I move among my Kingsguard. Did you find time to finish the lance and mace?"
  
  "I did. From the same batch that I forged Icefire." Gendry moved to the left corner and opened a chest. He took out a dangerous looking club with a Valyrian steel head.
  
  Jon nodded and accepted the weapon. He checked the weight and examined it thoroughly. Things were proceeding as planned. The second batch of Valyrian Steel had been of even higher quality as the first one. Minding Bran's words, he had commissioned a sword to be made from it that was the exact copy of Blackfyre and had named it Icefire. "Excellent work as always, Gendry."
  
  Gendry literally beamed and lifted the lance that hung on the wall behind Jon. Jon put the mace down and accepted the lance making sure not to hit anything. In the confined space they were in he could only test its weight. There was no room to move it about much. Holding it still he turned to his cousin. "'Arya, will you ask Ser Oswell and Ser Rayford to step inside for a moment? I want them to have a chance to see me in this armour before I have it removed."
  
  As soon as Arya left the room, Jon attached the lance back to the wall and removed his helmet. Then despite being hindered by the harness, he hugged his friend awkwardly to convey his gratitude and spoke near his ear. "The next armour you make is for yourself, do you hear me? A full body harness to fit your large frame. And while you're at it, you can upgrade your warhammer with Valyrian steel. Or better still, make an entirely new one. And when you get to the point that you will need assistance to fit your harness to your form, you have my permission to send for Tobho Mott as often as necessary. We'll find some pretext. Don't you worry."
  
  Gendry nodded and released Jon. His eyes were suspiciously moist.
  
  Jon took advantage of the fact that his friend was rendered speechless and added. "And now that I have you in such a good mood, no excuses tonight. As soon as I leave here, I want you to go clean yourself up. You have the place of honour tonight at the high table. And come prepared to dance with each Lady-in-Waiting at least once. A travelling minstrel is visiting us for a sennight. Dany has arranged for him to play after supper."
  
  Jon smiled when Gendry started frowning. He thumbed his shoulder, careful to do it gently, conscious of the steel gauntlets he was still wearing "I know, I told my wife she appointed way too many Ladies. I'll amend my decree. Dance at least four dances and choose freely among all the females present."
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Oswell announced his arrival.
  
  Jon put his helmet back on and closed his visor before he turned around and faced his Kingsguard.
  
  Ser Oswell took a step back and almost stumbled into Ser Rayford. "It is uncanny. Those who loved your father will be heartened by the sight of you in that armour, my King. I pray that he is somewhere in the Seven Heavens looking down upon you. Is there still time to fetch Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur? They wouldn't want to miss this sight."
  
  Jon shook his head, marvelling at the way the harness allowed him to do so without much hindrance. "They witnessed the first fitting. But don't be mad at them. I begged them to keep it a secret from you. I wanted to surprise you and hear your unbiased opinion."
  
  "Then you succeeded, my King." Ser Oswell swallowed. A thick silence fell over the room.
  
  Jon was grateful when Ser Rayford distracted them all when he asked his King a question. "If I may ask, your Grace, why are your squires cleaning every tool they can find in the workshop? Have they seen you like this yet?"
  
  Jon lifted the visor of his helmet when he turned to Ser Rayford. He briefly considered that this was the first time that Ser Rayford had asked him a question not directly related to his Kingsguard duty. Keeping his tone light to convey that he did not mind in the least he answered quickly before the knight could grow self-conscious. "A small lesson needed to be taught. It will have taken root by now. By all means, call them in here. They need to learn how to get this thing off me. Not better time to start as today."
  
  Ser Oswell pulling himself out of his memories interjected. "Best let Renny and Monty practice to put in on as well. The most difficult part will be to teach them not to soil it with fingerprints while going about it fast enough. My advice is to try the harness on at least once a day until they get the hang of it. We are leaving for war soon. It is best for them to be prepared."
  
  "I will put it on each morning for the latter part of my training session. I need to learn how to fight in it as well." Jon nodded and then turned to his young cousin who had been on her best behaviour the entire time. "Princess Arya, will you call Renfric Rykker and Monteric Velaryon in here please?"
  
  Arya rolled her eyes at hearing her being called by her title by him but jumped of the table she had been seated on and obeyed him all the same.
  
  Later that same day
  
  "You called for us, your Graces?" Maester Pylos stepped into their private sitting room a bit hesitantly with Sam at his heels."
  
  Jon and Dany sat close together on their loveseat. He held her small hand in his to offer her support. Ghost was asleep at their feet. "We did. Please take a seat."
  
  "Congratulations on the first one hundred days of your reign, your Graces. We started calculating from the day you ascended the throne, not the crowning ceremony," Sam was quick to clarify once he and his future colleague were seated on the two chairs facing the royal couples.
  
  Jon and Dany looked at each other. Dany was the one to respond. "Perhaps we should pay more attention to such matters. I'll announce that the banquet tonight is in celebration of this event and see if a few more nobles residing in King's Landing are willing to attend at such short notice. The bard will be pleased to have his first performance at the royal court be for a special occasion."
  
  "We will keep using the normal calendar that was started by Aegon the First of his Name. It still is 299 AL, soon to be 300 AL." Jon made his wishes clear.
  
  "Of course, Jon. But you have to admit that it is a milestone. Besides, it does not show disrespect to your ancestor if you keep a second tally alongside it. If anything, uh, it makes it easier to keep track of the accomplishments of your reign." Sam defended their point of view sheepishly.
  
  "My King," Maester Pylos intervened when Sam had fallen silent and his King did not seem to offer any further reaction. "If I may? Why did you summon us if it was not to congratulate you? Both of you." He amended hastily.
  
  Jon looked at Dany who gestured for him to speak. He adjusted his grip on her hand while he spoke up. "We have need for your advice on a delicate matter."
  
  Maester Pylos face lit up but Sam guessed from talking to his friend about this more than once before that the Maester's hopes would be thwarted.
  
  "Lord Davos shared with us some private experiences and we would like to hear whether you can confirm some of what he said with what you were taught at the Citadel and perhaps offer some uh additional advice." Jon started to explain cautiously.
  
  "We are at your service, your Graces." Maester Pylos responded. The formal speech of the Maester did nothing fool anyone. Maester Pylos' expression easily betrayed his growing curiosity.
  
  "A sennight ago," Dany spoke up now while she squeezed his hand to the point where it became somewhat painful, "my moonblood flowed again for four days. That makes it the third time since we were wed. I, uh or rather we wondered what the average time is for a married woman to conceive for the first time?"
  
  "There is no known average." Maester Pylos offered after a short deliberation. "We are taught that there is no reason for concern during the first two years of marriage. If no quickening occurs in that period, then chances diminish and drop to one in ten that the couple will still be able to conceive."
  
  "Lord Davos told us that it took them a year to conceive and after the birth of his firstborn, his wife got pregnant each time that she had recovered enough to couple again." Jon blushed and cursed himself for his unease. He altered his grip on Dany's hand, opting for weaving their fingers together.
  
  "That is something we were taught as well, your Graces. When a woman's body has produced a living child, it knows how to do it, so to speak. She becomes more fertile, and will in most cases bear many children if her husband regularly uh gives her his seed." He stammered the last part, his cheeks as red as the King's.
  
  "Is there anything a couple can do to enhance their chances to conceive this first child?" Now it was Dany whose cheeks coloured red. Jon stroked her hand with his thumb.
  
  Sam shook his head at Maester Pylos conveying that in this matter it was up to him to advise the royal couple. The Maester swallowed thickly. "There are theories that state that nine or ten days after a woman's moonblood stops, there is a window of four to five days that she has the most chance to conceive. So you could pay attention to couple around that time." The young Maester swallowed thickly. "Anything else, I would venture to say, is in the hand of the Gods. You are still very young, my Queen and of a healthy constitution. I can reassure you that as long as your moonblood comes every moon's turn, your body is fertile and you have every chance to grow a child in your womb. Try not to let your husband's seed flow out of you immediately after the coupling. Wait some time before sitting upright or getting up from the bed. The only other advice I can give you is not to focus on it too much. Couple regularly and let nature run its course."
  
  Silence fell over the room when the Maester stopped talking. Maester Pylos as well as Sam pretended to be fascinated with the clouds they could see moving through the high windows. Jon brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. Then he looked up toward his friend. "Sam?" The one word was enough to convey his question.
  
  "I concur with Maester Pylos, Jon." Sam dropped all formality and Jon smiled encouragingly, urging him to elaborate. Sam as always did not disappoint. His eyes embraced the both of them warmly when he added. "I would venture to say that it is much too early for this conversation. The both of you have been married for a meagre eighty six days. Don't focus too much on Princess Catelyn's first pregnancy. I know she is proud of what she accomplished but that was merely a stroke of luck. In the Reach alone, I know of several married couples who conceived their first child after more than twelve moons and have a large number of healthy children."
  
  "Thank you, Sam." His eyes fell on the Maester. "Maester Pylos, we are very grateful for your insight." The tone of Jon's voice indicated that the Maester was allowed to retire. Maester Pylos bowed quickly and was visibly eager to leave the room. Sam on the other hand was a bit slower to rise from his chair.
  
  Jon arched a brow. "Eighty-six days, Sam? Really?" His teasing tone changed the entire dynamic in the room.
  
  "Uh, well, you were married on day fourteen, it is day one hundred, so..."
  
  "I get the gist. You have such eye for detail. Perhaps a heads up from you might be helpful on day one hundred of our marriage and any significant number worth celebrating in future?" Jon kept his face straight.
  
  Sam looked flabbergasted and Jon chuckled pleased to see a smile appear on Dany's face as well. "Just kidding." When Sam released a breath he added in a playful manner. "For the most part." Sam risked a smile and Jon praised him, still intent after all this time on helping his friend grow more confident. "You are a wonder with figures, Sam. I bet you can calculate circles around my Master of Coin."
  
  "I might have won a speed contest," Sam admitted and Jon saw his friend grow more self-assured before his eyes as he grinned. "Would you believe me when I told you that Lord Tyrion bet me that he could calculate one hundred sums faster than me?" He paused shortly to grow the suspense. "I beat him by five." Sam smiled broadly now.
  
  "I would have bet my crown on it. Of course I believe you," Jon didn't hesitate to answer as Dany added. "Good for you, Sam."
  
  "But seriously, Jon, Queen Daenerys, uh."
  
  "Daenerys, please." Daenerys interjected. And Jon was glad she seemed recovered from the embarrassing conversation sufficiently to help him put his friend at ease.
  
  "Daenerys," Sam repeated dutifully. "There really is nothing for you two to worry about. I can add some advice from our Maester at Horn Hill. I once overheard him counsel a distant cousin that chances of conception were higher when the husband released his seed while the female was slick and relaxed enough to enjoy the uh..."
  
  "We get it, Sam. Thanks for sharing that with us. We will certainly consider all the advice that you and Maester Pylos gave us," Jon promised.
  
  "And we will do our best to be a bit more patient in future. It is true what Maester Pylos said. We are still rather young to become parents." Dany added.
  
  "Well, then if you have nothing further to discuss with me, I'll leave you to it." Sam grew warm when he realised what he had just implied. He quickly bowed and hurried for the door.
  
  "See you at supper, Sam." Jon called after him the mirth apparent in his voice. "Come prepared to dance."
  
  As soon as the door closed after his friend, Dany hid her face in Jon's tunic. "That was so embarrassing. I feel so foolish."
  
  "No more than I, I assure you." He stroked her hair twirling the ends of some loose strands around his finger. "There is still time before we need to leave our chambers. Allow me carry you to our bed. I know it is not one of your more fertile days according to the Maester but I want to worship your body and that leads inevitably to filling you up with my seed. Practice makes perfect or so Ser Arthur told me too many times to ever forget it. Let me see if I can get you to relax. I've learned over time that I should never dismiss Sam's advice."
  
  Dany got up. "I would lodge a formal complaint with the Citadel if our talk with Maester Pylos resulted in you coupling with me only on those few days every moon. I would be forced to ask Irri about new ways to seduce my husband." She held out her hand and gave him a teasing smile.
  
  "You'll never need to, my love. Just smile at me like this and I am lost. You recall those notorious baser urges that you accused me of having? They will be my downfall each and every time." Jon dropped to his knees and teased her womanhood with his nose by turning his face left and right. Not satisfied with smelling her arousal through her clothing, his hands slowly teased her skirt upwards.
  
  "I've grown rather fond of your notorious urges." She moaned when his mouth nipped at her folds wetting her smallclothes with his saliva. "Perhaps I should take you up on your suggestion and move this to our bed. Else you will have to catch me before my legs can't carry my weight any longer."
  
  "Always." He pulled her smallclothes down and gave her naked flesh a soft kiss before covering it up again. Then he stood and swept her up in his strong arms. Making sure that he did not trip over Ghost, he carried her to the bedroom. "I am going to allow my baser urges free reign now. So it is in your interest to help me if you fancy wearing these clothes again. I need you naked sooner rather than later."
  
  In the training yard the next morning, it took his squires a long time to put on his armour and Jon almost gave up the entire endeavour. Not having slept much and tired out from the first part of his training, he was getting antsy. Ser Arthur just laughed and told him to give it a couple of days. They were alone in his private training yard. Jon had asked his Kingsguard to prevent anyone from following his training session. He had opted to keep the new armour a surprise until his first public appearance. Varys had suggested to him to provide no explanation on the origin of the armour should anyone be bold enough to ask him to his face. Mystery made for the most interesting tales he had advised the small council when the subject had come up. They will believe it is really your father's armour that has magically found its way to its rightful heir. Nobody will believe that you are able to forge Valyrian steel. That would be considered the fairy tale.
  
  Luck was not with him that morning or so it seemed. He had barely started his first bout and was still testing all his movements in the Valyrian armour when the rain started up. He muttered a curse the moment he found shelter in the small barrack where they kept the training equipment. When his squires had finished drying off and removing his armour, he dismissed them rather curtly and sat down on a primitive stool.
  
  Ser Arthur fetched a similar footstool and the remainder of the pitcher of water they had used during their session. He handed his King the pitcher while he installed himself close by. He chuckled when he watched Jon's morose expression. "You remind me of a spoiled child, my King. These boys are doing the best they can. You were lucky to find two loyal squires that get along. But then again, it will help build their character. You have always been going easy on them. Squires learn best by being disciplined."
  
  Jon studied Ser Arthur. It was not often that the man let down his guard enough to address him in such a familiar manner. Ser Oswell was waiting at the other side of the courtyard in the small building where a fire was lit and hot drinks were available. When Jon had told them that he would need only one of them to spar with him for this latter part of his training session since he needed to grow familiar with his new armour first, Ser Oswell who had torn his sleeve courtesy of Arya's short visit, had opted to keep watch from that building. The knight intended to treat himself to a warm cup of herbal tea while a servant mended the tear. Jon was not going to waste this unexpected private time with Ser Arthur. He drank half of what still remained of the water and handed the pitcher back to Ser Arthur.
  
  "Sometimes I feel guilty that I leave most of my squires' training sessions in the hands of recruits that Ser Gerold appoints. I tell myself that that will change when they will have progressed further with their sword skills but in the end, I have to confess that that is just an excuse." He looked up at Ser Arthur and saw the knight for once was not as alert as always. Jon raised his voice slightly. "Ser Arthur?" When the knight focussed his eyes again Jon continued, his voice reverting to the hushed tones they were speaking in before. "Is something the matter?"
  
  Ser Arthur hesitated.
  
  "Whatever the realm forces us to be in public, you are still my former mentor, you all but raised me and I consider you a dear and loyal friend. Just tell me, please?"
  
  Ser Arthur moved the tiny stool a little closer to his King. "You and Daenerys consulted with the Maester in your bedroom yesterday. Are you... , is she...?"
  
  If it had been anyone else, Jon in his current mood would sigh and give a terse answer but in this instance he was glad that Ser Arthur felt comfortable enough to bring up such a personal subject. "Not yet," he answered softly. "Not by lack of trying though." He nudged Ser Arthur's shoulder to show him that he didn't mind the intrusive question.
  
  "Soon then." Ser Arthur said and Jon wished he had the same faith as his kingsguard. "You have such a natural way of interacting with each other. Especially in private." The knight added.
  
  "Yeah. If anyone knows, that would be my loyal Kingsguard. Sometimes I wonder what you hear on the other side of that door at night. It keeps being a bit weird that someone is always there when Dany and I, you know..."
  
  "We do not hear much, my King. I assure you. And the titbits that we hear... well, how shall I put it? Those are much more agreeable sounds than the ones that I had to endure whilst guarding the door of your grandfather's bedchamber." Ser Arthur shook his head. "Forget that I said that. All I meant was that we hardly hear anything, my King, except for the occasional bout of laughter. But that only makes a boring watch more agreeable."
  
  "If ever you want to uh," Jon hesitated not sure how to formulate this.
  
  "I know. Not anytime soon. That White Cloak is my life, my identity. And I don't want privileges. All members of the Kingsguard are brothers, equals. I won't ask for fewer night shifts at the expense of my brothers."
  
  "I meant uh," Once more Jon couldn't finish his sentence.
  
  "I know what you meant, my King. I had a talk with Davos a while back at the Free Folk settlement when I was a bit lost since you were gone for days on a scouting mission. He told me about your idea of making me an honourable Kingsguard. It wouldn't work. It is all or nothing."
  
  Jon nodded. "I realise that now. I have been obliged to adjust several plans and ideals I had before taking the throne." He studied his friend and Kingsguard for a while before asking hesitantly. "And the chastity vow? Doesn't that weigh on you?" To Jon's embarrassment his cheeks coloured bright red. He had never heard as much as a whisper of Ser Arthur taking a whore or any female for that matter to his bed. And yet the loyal knight must have heard more than once how pleasurable coupling was when he stood at Jon's door during one of his nightshifts.
  
  Ser Arthur however had no qualms in answering this invasive question. "Not really. I have never known any different. You can't miss what you don't know."
  
  "Can I ask you something else?" Jon asked after a short pause when he had digested Ser Arthur's answer.
  
  Ser Arthur laughed out loud. "Now you have me wondering. You should have asked permission for that former question. That was a breach of propriety and a very personal question to voice out loud. I dread to imagine what you are about to ask if you think you need my permission before going ahead."
  
  "Something difficult on my part to ask, I guess." Jon looked hesitant.
  
  "Now don't grow shy on my behalf, Jon. To use your own words, I am still your former mentor and a dear and loyal friend. Just ask your question, please."
  
  Jon nodded. "Have you, uh have you ever, while you were involved in a very intensive fight, felt as if everything slowed down and you had ample time to perfect each move? Could predict each action of your opponent long before he made it and felt so certain that you were choosing the right strike, that your feet moved of their own accord and that you would prevail because your cause was righteous?"
  
  Ser Arthur studied him closely. "I'd like to think that I have always fought on the side that was righteous. I also know that I am faster than my opponents, present company excepted perhaps. But I suspect that that is not what you meant with your question?"
  
  "No it is not. It is rather difficult to explain. What I am trying to describe is something like this." Jon stood and began to perform a few graceful fight moves at a slow speed."
  
  "You truly experienced something like that during a high-speed fight?"
  
  Jon nodded and sat back down and nodded. "Once when I fought a White Walker and feared for my life. If not for entering that state of trance, I would not have lasted until help arrived. I have tried to replicate that feeling. Only when several of you go all out against me simultaneously, have I gotten close to experiencing something similar."
  
  "Maybe this is a Targaryen thing?" Ser Arthur mused out loud. "Prince Rhaegar never mentioned it though".
  
  "Maester Aemon never mentioned it either. Nor have I found anything in the countless books Sam and I have browsed through. Sam thinks it might be something unique to my person because I am the first child born of Ice and Fire as he calls it. Bran urges me to embrace the magic in my blood. But before I am ready to entertain any of those theories, I wanted to check whether this is not just something that happens when competent warriors go all out. If it was, then surely you would know?"
  
  "Now I better understand the determination and the excessive fervour that you often bring to your training sessions. You were always a diligent student but these last few moons, it looked like you were possessed by some kind of fighting demon at times."
  
  "You can't help me then?" Jon insisted to be sure.
  
  "I can't explain the phenomenon, no. I'm sorry, my King."
  
  "I fear that I know too little of what really matters. I sometimes resent it that the Gods grant us only bits of information and that as a consequence I am forced to make life changing decisions based on interpretations that no one can say for certain whether they are entirely accurate or complete."
  
  "Isn't that the same for everyone who bears responsibility and has to lead people?" Ser Arthur remarked.
  
  "Perhaps, but the Gods have me believe that on my actions, on the choices that I make, depends the survival of all living beings."
  
  Ser Arthur didn't respond to that and Jon also stayed quiet for a while. "My King, I think I have earned the right to ask you a question now." Ser Arthur broke the silence.
  
  "You can always ask," Jon gave him a small encouraging smile and added the sentence that Ser Arthur and his other mentors had often used when he was younger. "I can't promise you that the answer will satisfy you though."
  
  Ser Arthur smiled a faraway look in his eyes. "That brings back so many memories."
  
  "Nice ones." Jon agreed and once more brushed against Ser Arthur's shoulder.
  
  "Very nice ones." Ser Arthur affirmed. "I hate to spoil the mood but I need to ask. I have the feeling that we are being kept in the dark about some things. I don't need to know everything of course but I worry about Dorne, and about Edric who I believe is back at Starfall. Prince Oberyn has been more secretive than ever and that is not a good sign. He left about a moon ago rather mysteriously. Normally he would have taken his leave of me but he didn't. Is there something you can share with me?"
  
  Jon nodded deep in thought. "I have been remiss. I apologize. We have kept certain things under wraps so Stannis Baratheon would keep guessing as well. You see, Lord Baratheon sabotaged communications between Dorne and the Crownlands for a while and we used the opportunity to spread false rumours." Jon held nothing back and told him all that had been put in motion. He ended his explanation smiling tentatively when he said. "If all goes as planned, we will most certainly meet up with Edric in the Stormlands."
  
  "Thank you, my King. I will not breathe a worth of this to anyone." Ser Arthur replied reverting to his more formal behaviour.
  
  "I know, Ser Arthur. I missed this, us talking like this. The day you decide to change your vocation..."
  
  "I know." Ser Arthur nudged his King's shoulders. "You'd be the first one that I tell. Perhaps we should join Ser Oswell. I could use a warm drink myself. We ran out of water a while ago."
  
  Jon stood and gathered his things. "Follow me." Even though Ser Arthur had not been able to give him any explanation regarding his strange fighting trance, Jon felt better than ever. Ser Arthur had felt so at ease with him that he had called him Jon more than once. He couldn't remember how long ago it had been that that had occurred. Ever since he had learned of his heritage, his Kingsguard had started referring to him as 'my Prince'. He had always regarded it as a small victory when he got them to drop their guard and call him by his given name. But it hadn't happened often now he was King. They always addressed him formally as 'my King' or 'your Grace'. But not this time. For a moment he had just been Jon to Ser Arthur. He would make certain to tell Dany tonight. She would understand how much it meant to him that Ser Arthur had called him a dear and loyal friend. Even if it had been Jon's own words that the knight had quoted back to him, Jon had felt that Ser Arthur had meant every word. This innocent conversation that had started with him being in a bad mood, had turned out to be one he would not have wanted to miss for all the gold in the realm.
  
  A few days later
  
  "There's a raven from Greywater Watch with the seal of Prince Stark." His Hand announced and Ghost perked his ears and studied the human carrying a basket. Satisfied that all was in order, his wolf put his head back on his front legs, closing his eyes once more.
  
  Jon accepted the raven from Davos and opened it with alacrity. He held it up so Dany and he could read it at the same time. A smile appeared on his face and he summarized the contents out loud for Davos' benefit. "Uncle Ned has set out for Winterfell. He hopes to be there in less than a fortnight. He writes that Bran is well and that he has given permission for an excursion to the Wall and will keep the knowledge from his wife. Lord Reed will send out Bran's prewritten messages at regular intervals. Oh, he also formally approves of my proposal to let my cousin Sansa and Lord Dayne correspond with short messages under my supervision. The only condition he insists upon is that they limit it to once a moon and keep it under wraps so Sansa will not be compromised and all options remain open."
  
  Jon read on in silence for a while before he looked up again. "All is well in the Riverlands and Lady Ilsa's marriage will take place six sennights after Lord Hoster Tully's burial." Jon paused to make a quick calculation. "That would be day 125 of my reign. That's twenty days from now. Should I send a delegation to attend? Perhaps Dany might want to go?" Jon turned his head to hear her answer but Davos beat him to it.
  
  "I'd advise against either of you attending, son. It would be an enormous endeavour to send ample protection with you and I don't think Ser Gerold will allow you to take the Queen and fly there on your dragons without a proper escort at Riverrun to guard you. Do not forget, you have not yet consolidated your rule. As long as there is no stability, you can't in good conscience be making pleasure trips. The situation in the Stormlands is volatile. Your enemy could profit twofold from such a journey. Either you make yourself vulnerable on the road, or he uses the fact that you are away from the capital to strike. And I don't think either of you will like it if the other attends on his or her own." Davos added diplomatically knowing that Daenerys wouldn't want to miss a fertility cycle.
  
  "We'll send a beautiful wedding gift and our congratulations. Lady Ilsa will be disappointed though." Regret shone through Daenerys' voice.
  
  "Not half as much as Princess Catelyn when her royal kin is not in attendance. I am surprised that she agreed to hold the wedding while still in deep mourning." Jon frowned. "Uncle Ned explains that she intends to return to King's Landing shortly after the wedding feast."
  
  "I guess she misses her daughters." Dany remarked.
  
  "More likely life at Court." Davos muttered and Dany raised her brow.
  
  Jon shook his head but the edges of his mouth curled up slightly. "And here I thought you were supposed to teach us to behave, not the other way around."
  
  "I'm sorry," the playful expression on the older man's face belied his words. "It is just, nobody of your immediate circle is fooled by her motives. Still, speaking the words out loud was out of line."
  
  "We are in private, Davos. And I was just teasing. I think you just took Dany and me by speed or it would have been one of us mocking our Aunt's motives."
  
  Dany made a show to act offended. "Speak for yourself, Aegon! Us females are much more circumspect. I would have phrased it in such a way that you would not have been sure whether I insulted or complimented your dear Aunt Catelyn."
  
  "Now you scare me, my dear." Jon grinned and playfully tapped her nose. Then his expression grew serious again. "Perhaps we should focus back on the future bride and groom's disappointment. What if Dany sent a personal letter to Lady Ilsa, promising her that we, the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, will visit Riverrun as soon as all the Kingdoms are at peace." Jon offered.
  
  "As a part of your grand Tour?" Davos interjected.
  
  "Better not present it in that way when you answer though." Jon advised Dany. "It makes our promised visit less special. For now, let us try to keep the disappointment of the bride and groom to a minimum. This should be a happy time for the soon to be wedded couple." He kissed Dany's cheek chastely.
  
  "I see you carry more messages, Davos?" Dany gestured to the small basket that Davos carried. He held it low enough that several scrolls were easily spotted."
  
  "Indeed. I encountered Maester Pylos in the hallway. He gave me several messages addressed to King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name. One from Robb, that's the rather thick one. One from Castle Black, another from Sandor, a short one from Prince Oberyn, Yara Greyjoy wrote one as well. That one I opened. She writes that the first trade missions have been a success and that the seeds they sowed earlier are sprouting. She fears she is needed on Pyke and has to tour the other Islands as well to check whether the planting she ordered has been done correctly and the fields are managed properly. Consequently she will not be able to come to the capital within the stated period of six moons. She begs for your forbearance. She stipulates that you are always welcome to visit Pyke though."
  
  "When peace reigns, we will." Jon looked at Davos. "I don't mind that she is not coming here shortly. I am inclined to trust her. What is your opinion?"
  
  "That she needs to change her house's words. She does sow now." He chuckled when he noticed that the royal couple could appreciate his attempt at a joke. "I only met her briefly once and most of the things I know about her are through your accounts, son. That said, the decrees she signed are rather watertight and if we can believe what she writes, she is accomplishing no small feat. She is effectively steering the Ironborn away from their old ways and they are attempting to make an honest living for the first time in ages. We've not had a single report from the west coast either south or north that Ironborn loyal to Lady Greyjoy have been raiding. So I am inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, you have more urgent matters than one Ironborn Lady who is too busy setting her Kingdom straight to come to King's Landing. She has already sworn allegiance to you. The way I see it, the only reason that she needs to come all the way over here is to satisfy some gossiping nobles by dropping to her knees in front of you for the whole court to witness. Some will mock here speech and comment on her tiniest gesture and disapprove of her outfit. That reason somehow does not seem good enough to me anymore to enforce the six months' term in her case."
  
  "I wholeheartedly agree with Davos. Do not forget that she owes her current status as ruler of the Iron Islands to you, Aegon. She has not given you any reason to doubt her loyalty. Besides, there are not that many nobles left in King's Landing to put on a show for anyway." Dany observed.
  
  Jon smiled at her. "You agree with Davos who agrees with me. Why don't you just come out and admit that you agree with your King and husband who is always right." His tone was teasing and he grinned when she turned her face sideways so their noses almost bumped together. He stole a quick kiss before he turned his attention back to Davos who was smiling indulgently at them both. "Any other scrolls we need to discuss right now?" Jon asked.
  
  "One by the hand of Princess Catelyn. I gather that will be the formal invitation to her brother's wedding. That's it, your Graces." Davos had trouble keeping a straight face. Jon was glad the old man didn't begrudge them the small displays of affection they shared in his presence. He was much more lenient than Ser Gerold on the matter.
  
  "I did bring the list with supplies for the army." Davos continued and Jon went back to paying attention to his Hand's words. "If you look them over you will reach the conclusion that the food supply has all been organised. We will need extra barrels to transport clean water though. The ones we still had in the royal storage facilities are in poor condition. I already sent word to the cooperage in Flea Bottom. They will welcome the order to restore some of them and fabricate new ones to replace those that are beyond repair." Davos put the small basket on the desk. Jon looked longingly at it, eying the scroll written by Robb.
  
  Davos coughed. "The rest of my news it not that urgent and will keep till tomorrow's briefing. With your permission, I'll leave so you can read the personal messages in peace."
  
  "I'll bring the one from the Lord Commander at Castle Black and Sandor's message with me to the private dining room when we reconvene for lunch. " Jon promised. "You can familiarize yourself with their content then, Davos."
  
  "That's quite alright, son. Take your time. My Queen," Davos bowed slightly and left the room.
  
  "How about I read the one from Sandor Clegane while you read Robb's?" Dany proposed.
  
  "Robb doesn't write anything that needs to be kept from you, Dany." Jon put his arm around her shoulder. The both of them sat behind the large desk where they listened to the morning briefings. "Besides you will have to open all messages when I travel to the Stormlands. You will be able to show the small council and the Court that the Seven Kingdoms have two rulers who can take over from each other."
  
  Dany frowned. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Aegon, I won't be able to do as you ask. I will be travelling with you. I heard you plan to take both Rhaegal and Viserion with you when you join your army a few days before the actual parlay. I will ride Viserion."
  
  "Dany, I want you to stay here and be safe." As if agreeing with his human, Ghost moved for the first time in a while. He approached Dany's chair and put his head in her lap.
  
  Dany petted the wolf's white fur. Her expression lost none of its determination. Not distracted by Ghost's quiet demand for attention, she protested. "You wanted to show Stannis Baratheon your full strength. Two dragonriders send a clearer message than one. Also Bran told you... , you know."
  
  "But what if you uh," Jon hesitated. He angled his chair so he kind of faced her and took both her hands in his. "What if you carry our first child inside of you by then?"
  
  "In that case, it will depend on how far along I am and how healthy I feel. I promise to listen to the Maester's recommendations." When Jon's face relaxed she added. "But only if you in turn promise not to manipulate the Maester or straight out dictate to him what you want him to say to me."
  
  Jon kissed her cheek. "We'll talk about this some more later."
  
  "You can try. My mind is made up though. Only sickness can keep me from attending the parlay in the Stormlands. She released his hands and handed him the thickest scroll prominently featuring the seal of the Stark direwolf. Now read your letter from Robb."
  
  Jon accepted the letter and looked into Ghost's eyes. He felt that his wolf was sympathetic to his plight. They both wanted to keep Dany safe. He relented for now and opened the scroll, anything to take his mind of the thought of having to take Dany to a potential war zone. He would need to speak to Davos, Ser Gerold, Uncle Benjen, perhaps also to Lady Ashara, in short to anyone who could possibly help him find arguments to change Dany's mind. Just the thought of the love of his life and possible the mother of his unborn first child flying headlong into danger, would keep him up at night.
  
  A few days later
  
  "Sam, are you busy?" Jon stood in the doorway of the library.
  
  "Oh Jon, I didn't see you there." Sam made sure to put a marker on the page that he had been reading before closing the book. "Please come inside. I can continue this later. What can I do for you?"
  
  Jon said a few words to Ser Loras and Ser Oswell who had followed him here and closed the door leaving them in the hallway. "I wanted to talk to you for a bit, my friend. I hardly get to see you outside mealtimes and council meetings."
  
  "I know. I never realised helping you rule would be so time consuming. I hope things will get better when the wars are over and done with."
  
  "But then you will be at the Citadel." Jon complained and sat down at the table facing his friend.
  
  "I know. If only." Sam sighed. Then he studied his friend a bit closer. Despite Jon's belligerent tone he seemed animated. By absence of a better term, Sam would say that his entire body exuded positive energy somehow. "Is something the matter, Jon? You look like you have a purpose. You even seem uh excited."
  
  "You know me well, Sam. I do have a purpose, one that might interest you. I might even succeed in separating you from this library for a few days in a row."
  
  Not much could do that but Jon seemed confident so Sam's interest peaked. "Now that I would like to hear!"
  
  "Remember how on Dragonstone we searched for that secret hiding place Maester Aemon mentioned in the letter that I found after his death?"
  
  "Under the floor of his chambers, in that secret hiding place where he kept Blackfyre hidden for decades, of course I remember. We looked for it the first time we were together on Dragonstone. You made me promise not to continue the search without you." Sam frowned when he recalled how thorough a search they had conducted for days on end. "I thought we had reached the conclusion that it was a hopeless endeavour."
  
  "I might have had a dream." Jon baited him.
  
  "Like a vision? Jon, tell me you didn't uh," Sam looked embarrassed but also a bit worried.
  
  "I didn't make another potion. I promised you I wouldn't ever again, Sam. In fact I promised you all. You with your perfect recall of every word I once told you surely remember that once upon a time I confessed to you that I am a bit of a greenseer by accident of birth, don't you? Not a powerful one, mind you, I mostly only see things related to House Targaryen's survival."
  
  "Fair enough. Then am I right in presuming that you kind of dreamed where the secret hiding place on Dragonstone is located?"
  
  Jon nodded. "I think so. I now belief that Maester Aemon never really saw it himself. My father must have described it to Maester Aemon in a letter. That's why his second hand account steered us wrong. In my dream, or better in that vision, Prince Rhaegar opens a hollow space behind a wall of the old nursery. If what I was shown is true, then we might find my father's diary containing his research on the prophecy of the Long Night and some rare books on the subject. We need to go to Dragonstone, Sam. I can fly to the island with Dany but I'd like for you to be there waiting for me when we arrive. What would you say about leaving with my Kingsguard by ship a day before Dany and I fly to Dragonstone?"
  
  "Do you really have to ask? Of course I will be there! And don't worry. I won't go exploring before you get there. I'm so grateful that you want me with you when you do this. When do you plan on leaving?"
  
  "I have to discuss it with Davos and Ser Gerold first but soon, as soon as can be arranged actually."
  
  "At least you are willing to take Daenerys with you on this trip." Sam remarked in a collect manner. Jon wasn't fooled though. His friend was studying is tiniest reaction.
  
  "You take her side over mine?" Jon accused Sam, not hiding his surprise.
  
  "I do in this instance. She has a right to join the parlay. You are always talking about ruling as equals but you sure do take a lot of decisions without her present and often treat her as a fragile being in need of your protection. I am surprised that she has not stood up to you more often."
  
  Jon clearly hadn't expected this answer. "I uh, I don't, I didn't." He swallowed suddenly unsure. "Is that your perception of our dynamic?"
  
  "Honestly, yes." Sam answered. "I see you making efforts at times but you often slip back into your Kingly mode overruling us all, including her as if it is your divine right."
  
  Jon looked troubled. "But is it not normal for a man to want to protect his wife from harm? I love her dearly, Sam. I would blame myself if something happened to her because I put her in harm's way."
  
  Now Sam was at loss for an answer. It took him a while to formulate a reply. "Perhaps you should discuss this with Davos. I do not know much about how spouses behave with each other in private or how differences of opinions are settled between them. I only know that you claim to be different from other men when it comes to evaluating the potential of women. But you are not honest with yourself if you believe that you are treating her entirely as your equal."
  
  "Perhaps I was deluded and men and women are not equal. Not in all aspects. Men are stronger, physically I mean. That is a given. So women are more in need of protection than us. It is normal for strong men to fight on the front lines and for women to perform other vital tasks safely behind the scenes during war time." He looked at Sam hoping to get his friend to agree with him on that at least.
  
  "Ruling is not always about physical strength, Jon. We were talking about ruling together, not physically combatting enemies. I agree that there are differences between men and women. It would be unwise to let her fight on the frontlines or leading an army in the thick of the fight on the ground. But then as our King, you would better stop doing that yourself. But that is another topic best left for another time. The point that I am trying to make here is that in circumstances where strength is not a factor, you should treat her as your equal, at least if you are a man of your word, which uh, I uh know that you are."
  
  "No need to start being shy now, Sam. I truly want to hear what you think on the matter. I think you were about to tell me that I am a hypocrite. I am curious to hear your reasoning."
  
  "I didn't mean, uh I don't. " Sam took a deep breath and suddenly the words rushed from his mouth. "For example during meetings when we are crafting solutions, or when you meet nobles or make declarations of any kind, you should make a conscience effort to include her and use the word we instead of I. But not only that, treat her as your equal and only declare a course of action after the two of you have reached a consensus."
  
  Jon studied Sam closely, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Did she come to you to uh complain... about me?"
  
  "No, Jon. She wouldn't do that. I have eyes you know and I'd like to think that I am not completely stupid." Sam gave him a tentative smile. "Do not get me wrong. I believe that you are a good husband and she obviously loves you to pieces. I am only giving you a slight nudge in the right direction to become an even greater one and to reach the goal that you so obviously set for yourself: co-ruling the Kingdoms wisely, with Daenerys as your Queen, not just as your consort."
  
  Jon's eyes were moist when he spoke his next words. "I'll miss you, Sam. What will I do without you taking me to task, even if you do not dispose of all the facts and I don't entirely agree with your conclusions at times? What will I do when you are in Oldtown happily devouring all the books you can find there?"
  
  "You'll have Dany, Davos and lots of others to guide you. We can write and I'll be back before you know it." Sam put his hand on the table between him. "We have a pact, or had you forgotten?"
  
  "We have a pact." Jon covered his friend's hand with his callused palm. "And I will hold you to that. I'm glad you have postponed your departure until I leave for the North."
  
  "Your welcome, Jon." Sam retrieved his hand. "Now that I have you in a grateful mood, can we talk about Dickon?"
  
  "Am I such an ogre that you have to find an opportune moment to discuss your brother with me? I saw Dickon briefly this morning. He looked well enough."
  
  "He is still here though." Sam remarked. "I have never known him to be away from father's supervision for such an extensive period of time. I have received a short word from father. The great Lord Tarly actually deigned to acknowledge my being here but only to use the situation to his advantage. He urges me to influence you to send Dickon back home."
  
  Jon frowned. "Are you sure? Your father recently wrote to me that he is grateful that his heir is training under the tutelage of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Sword of the Morning. He considers it an honour that we give your brother this opportunity without forcing him to be sworn in. Have you talked with Dickon about your father wanting him home?"
  
  "A few days ago. Dickon of course wants to obey Father, despite enjoying his stay here very much. He has made a few new friends and caught the eye of a few ladies as well."
  
  "Ignore your father's letter, Sam. He wrote to me that Dickon was welcome to stay at court as long as I needed his presence. I'll show it to you. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner."
  
  "No, I apologize. I should have known that father was playing games. For all I know, he wants to drive a wedge between us."
  
  "Which would be a stupid move. I thought he was a brilliant strategist?"
  
  "He is, Jon. Don't underestimate his military prowess. He is a formidable force there. Politics on the other hand is not his thing. He is too rigid to be a diplomat. He is also way too bitter when playing that game. He still envies the Tyrells their standing and the Lannisters their goldmines. Did you know that we have a simulacrum of a gold mine on our lands? My great-grandfather almost bankrupted our house trying to exploit it. Father still dreams of being the one to find gold there."
  
  That caught Jon's interest. "Have you ever visited this mine? Could it contain other natural resources than gold that can prove valuable? For example, I know that you southerners don't care much for black coal but the North would be willing to trade for it. And once winter comes around, the south could learn to use it to heat their keeps as well."
  
  "Father never asked for my opinion and we weren't allowed to go near the mine when we were young. This mine has been there for generations. It will still be there when the dead are defeated. Perhaps at some point you can offer my father to send your experts to his mine to help out. If they do find something of value, my father will be forever grateful to you. Now," Sam's tone indicated that he considered that topic closed. "Anything else I can help you with?"
  
  "Nothing more than what you are already doing. I hope you will be able to continue your research on the Long Night especially if we find that hiding spot on Dragonstone and perhaps knowledge on how to tame a dragon."
  
  "You mean, ways for the enemy to steel a dragon? I've seen how confident Dany is riding Viserion now."
  
  Jon sighed. "Not as well as we both would like. We are still trying to intensify her bond with him." He didn't elaborate further, keeping his promise to Dany.
  
  "Then I promise to keep searching, Jon." Sam said. "Perhaps we will also find more on the Targaryen's affinity with fire."
  
  "I pray that such is the case." Jon relaxed his pose stretching his legs out before him and crossing them. "So, Dickon and the ladies?" He asked his friend casually.
  
  Sam nodded. "Well to be quite honest. Several ladies are vying for his attention but my brother only ever had eyes for one. He has from the first time he started developing an interest in girls. Nothing I said, or none of the pretty ladies he encountered since then can get him to forget his first crush and focus on courting the ones who won't refuse him."
  
  "Now you have really captured my attention. Pray tell?" Jon asked and listened carefully as Sam launched into a long explanation starting with his brother's childish infatuation that had slowly blossomed into a hopeless love for a Lady whose hand had been refused to him. He told them how their respective fathers had discussed the matter without his brother's knowledge and of Dickon's disappointment at hearing years after the fact that Lord Randyll of House Tarly had formally requested Lady Margaery of House Tyrell's hand in marriage. He had asked this on behalf of his younger son, Dickon who would inherit the Tarly lands since his older brother had other wishes and ambitions. The Tyrells had not been polite in their refusal, stating coldly that their precious Margaery would marry nothing less than a Prince.
  
  That same evening
  
  "You have circles under your eyes. Did you not sleep well last night, my husband?" Dany sat on their loveseat. Jon always enjoyed their private time after supper. Ghost for once hadn't joined them tonight. His direwolf was out hunting.
  
  "Not as well as usual," Jon conceded. He angled his body slightly so he could study her face a bit better. "Are you happy with me, Dany?"
  
  She turned her body as well and tucked her feet under her, so they faced each other. "What a strange question is that? I am very happy that I married you. You know that. In that we are blessed by the Gods. I am troubled with the political situation and also scared of what threatens our Kingdoms in the North. I wish there was more I could do to help you there."
  
  "You are not disappointed with the way we are ruling together? Are there things you would like to change and have not told me?"
  
  Dany put her hand against his cheek. "Aegon, where is this coming from? Was that the reason that you slept badly. Are you doubting yourself, or are you doubting me?"
  
  "Myself," he admitted. "I am doubting myself and no it had nothing to do with last night's rest. Let me tell you the reason for that first. I had a vision and was too excited making plans to fall asleep again."
  
  She relaxed and returned her hand to her lap. "Tell me."
  
  "Fancy a trip to Dragonstone in a day or two, maybe three?" He told her all he had told Sam that afternoon.
  
  "I'd love to. Do you really think we might find out more about our ancestors and their dragons?"
  
  "We might. Is it selfish that I am mostly excited about the possibility of finding out more about my father, your brother?" He added the last two words in a hushed tone. "But separate from all that, the prospect of strolling with you, either on the cliffs or along the beaches of Dragonstone will be more than worth the small trip."
  
  "Flatterer!" She grabbed his hand. "Now you've stalled enough, Aegon. Tell me why you doubt yourself and are all of a sudden entertaining the thought that I am not altogether happy with you?"
  
  "It has been brought to my attention that I am a bit of a hypocrite. How I always talk about ruling side by side but that I often revert to taking decisions without consulting you. Surely you must be disappointed by that sometimes?" Jon had his gaze fixed on a spot behind her the entire time he spoke.
  
  "Aegon, look at me." She waited patiently until he complied. Her purple eyes met his, and she hoped that they conveyed her trust in him and would encourage him to believe in himself. "Don't take everything upon yourself. If you would have ignored my loud protests, I would have cause to be upset. But if I keep silent and let you continue going about things the way that you are, then I am partially to blame if I am not happy with how things are evolving. You are right that you regularly take decisions without consulting me. But those are things you know instinctively that I can agree with and you don't need to ask me first. If you are not certain, you bring the issue up in private with me. Often on this sofa, before we retire for the night. Others do not know this and the only thing I will concede is that they might perceive you as the sole ruler and me as the loving Queen standing at your side, supporting anything you say. But I know different. We know different. Think on it, Aegon. I have challenged you on a few occasions and you have listened to me and we worked out a compromise each time even if you were not altogether happy with the end result. Remember Lady Margaery?"
  
  Jon grabbed her face with both hands. "I am such a fortunate man. What have I ever done to deserve you?"
  
  "Kept your word and made an honest woman out of me? Made me your Queen, your equal and love me more than I ever thought possible." Dany tried to convince him.
  
  He considered her words for a moment. "Then we must try and do better to project that image to the public."
  
  "And you can start by heeding my wish. You will allow me to be present at the parlay with Lord Stannis of House Baratheon." Dany was quick to take advantage of his new resolve.
  
  Jon sighed but to her surprise offered no further resistance and nodded. "If you are well and if you promise not to do anything that would increase the risk that you, that we are running. If you can promise me that, then I will not go against your wishes."
  
  She gave him a tender kiss. "That was just the first stage of my thank you mission." She blinked her eyes seductively. "Can I entice you to join me on the royal bed, your Grace? You should let your Queen teach you there what true equality means. We will take turns being on top."
  
  Jon swept her up in his arms before she had finished talking.
  
  Interlude 47: Writing skills
  
  "Fuck off, wife! Each time you fucking disturb me, it will take me that much longer to get this accursed task done! It's this or me leaving for days to travel to Castle Black and have the blond cunt of a Lannister finish this fucking message to the Dragonrider. Your fucking choice!"
  
  "Go fuck yourself!" Ygritte yelled back. "Don't expect me to cook dinner if you use the cooking pot for your stupid writing table. I thought you made one. Yesterday I had to take Tormund's son back to Moira because he couldn't sleep here with all the noise that you were making cleaving wood until it was too dark to see a cursed thing."
  
  Sandor angrily picked up the pot and threw it at her. "Here's your fucking casserole, you stupid woman! That was something I fucking promised Orell. Our friend has been scouting so much lately that his wife and children were lacking wood for the fire. This is the third time you've fucking disturbed me. Now I'll never get this damned message finished before dark."
  
  Ygritte had easily ducked the pot and her eyes roamed over her angry husband. They narrowed when they studied his large hands. "No wonder you can't do your scribbling thing. You can barely hold that skinny stick in your hands. Show me your right hand," she ordered in her brusque manner that always kind of turned him on.
  
  Sandor bit back another curse word and held out his hand. Two wooden splinters were embedded in there that he hadn't been able to remove with his big clumsy fingers. They had indeed been plaguing him the entire time that he had tried to write the letters in a decent enough manner to make sure that his former charge on his fucking Iron Throne all the way down in stinking King's Landing would be able to decipher his words.
  
  The Others won't take us all if this message gets sent out tomorrow, Sandor. Why not use my stool as a makeshift table for now. Just take care that you don't get any of that black stuff on it." She took a damp cloth and dropped to her knees so she was at eye-level with him. She immediately started cleaning his big hands efficiently and acted as if this was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. When she saw the raw red flesh where he had tried but failed to remove the wooden splinters himself, she cursed. "You must take care of these hands, dammit. Why didn't you ask for my help?"
  
  "That is not our way," Sandor grumbled not wanting to show weakness in front of her. She had chosen him for his strength after all.
  
  She hit his forehead with the palm of her hand. "Brainless man! How often must I tell you that in our tent, when no one overhears, anything goes. I'd rather have a husband with two functioning hands than a stuck-up, too-proud-for-his-own-sake one who fucking loses a hand because he is too stubborn to ask for assistance and allows such wounds to fester." She removed the first splinter with more force than needed and Sandor flinched but clenched his teeth and did not make a sound. "Fucking stupid southerner that I've stolen. Do you know nothing? I might as well have stolen a dimwit!"
  
  Sandor deeply insulted by being called a dimwit, withdrew his hand. "Have it your way and fuck off already."
  
  "You fuck off, this is my tent, remember!"
  
  "My burnt friend, having your daily spat with the fair Ygritte, I see." Tormund's jovial tone interrupted their fight. Sandor looked up to see Tormund holding up the flap of their tent. His friend was not in the least troubled by the deadly stares they both threw at him. "I've come to rescue you, my burnt friend. I have a horn of my special brew with your name on it. Give your red minx some time to cool off. Always works with mine."
  
  "Either enter or leave again but do not let the cold in." Ygritte commanded Tormund and without pausing for breath she snapped at her husband. "And give me that hand again. There is still another splinter that needs removing."
  
  "What happened to keeping things between us?" Sandor protested but held out his hand all the same.
  
  "Hah, Tormund knows exactly what your weaknesses are." Ygritte bowed over his hand to take a better look at the second splinter.
  
  "That I do." Tormund grinned. "But his strengths as well. Can't find a better fighter than this one if you look past me, that is. Not since I taught him how to use an axe with his strong arms and there is no one better with a sword on this side of the Wall. And he is well on his way to becoming one of the better skilled archers of our settlement. Go ahead and throw him out, Ygritte. I dare you. Countless women in this settlement alone will fight each other to take him in. He won't be cold tonight but you will be."
  
  "I wasn't throwing him out," she muttered calmer now. "Just winning the argument before you came barging in moments before he was about to cave."
  
  "In your fucking dreams, woman." Sandor gave her a tentative smile, his tone now also more akin to bantering than arguing. "Tormund came barging in fucking moments before I intended to throw you on our bed and had you begging me to keep pleasuring you and to fucking never ever stop."
  
  Tormund looked around trying to detect the source of the argument. It didn't take him long to spot the writing equipment that lay abandoned on the floor. "You're not complaining again that it takes him too long to scribble a message to my dear friend, the Dragonrider, are you? He must take his time writing about my beautiful son and all his accomplishments." He addressed Sandor now. "Did you include the part where he can roll from front to back and sit without support and all that while he is barely four moons old?"
  
  "I have not gotten to that part yet. My fucking wife just hijacked my writing table." Sandor muttered.
  
  "And offered him a substitute, thank you very much." Ygritte yanked the second splinter out of his finger. "Now let me wrap that up so the wound stays clean. And no more writing today. You can finish that message tomorrow. Tormund, take that big ouphe with you but see to it that he is not too drunk when he returns for his supper. He needs to make it up to me tonight. Make sure that he can still get it up or I'll have your hide."
  
  "I'm not fucking going anywhere, wife. You can't order me around like a toddler. Tormund, get someone to look after your son and bring Moira over here later for supper. But give us some fucking time first, all right?"
  
  "Are you sure you prefer that red minx's company over that large horn that I promised you?" Tormund mimicked drinking from his empty horn bottoms up.
  
  Sandor's expression softened. "I do this time. Ask me again some other time, my giant friend, and I will gladly accept."
  
  "All right then. 'Fucking time' I will grant you. Strength and stamina, burnt friend." Tormund grinned and left the tent.
  
  "So now I need to cook for four?" Ygritte stood there with her legs spread and her arms crossed.
  
  Sandor just hoisted her over his shoulders and threw her on the furs. "Silence woman! There is a time for making up and a time for cooking. Do you know nothing? Do I have to show you once more how our relationship works? I'll help you cook later if you let me have my way with you now. It is time that I reminded you again why we fucking work. You are mine and despite all your yapping, I wouldn't trade you for another woman whether she fucking lives north or south of the Wall. Now lay back and let the entire settlement hear you scream my name in pleasure."
  
  And Sandor did indeed convince his wildling wife why she had made the very best choice by stealing Sandor fucking Clegane before anyone else got the chance.
  
  The next day, he used Ygritte's stool and finished the letter. He wrote how he had spotted the dead body of a child that had been buried in secret by mourning parents who couldn't deal with burning the little body, marching north and Sandor had been obliged to kill it and burn it to ashes. He had not told anyone this. He also mentioned the rumours that as far as Skagos, recently buried people were said to have risen from their graves and were attacking remote settlement at night. He mentioned that Jon would probably receive a thank you from the Skagosi for the dragonglass weapons that he had ordered to be shipped out to them with instructions. He informed him that he had asked the Commander at East Watch to send a delegation to Skagos to explain all that had happened at Hardhome in order to convince the Skagosi to burn all their dead from now on. Sandor had also seen to it that Belmore knew not to charge the Skagosi for the surplus of dragonglass weapons that he had made fucking sure were sent to Skagos along with the small delegation of Crows.
  
  Yesterday he had already written briefly about the large pendulums that Lannister had fixed on several strategic places on the Wall to prevent the dead from climbing all the way to the top. He would write about the giant crossbows next time. He decided not to mention Mance Rayder's trouble with the Thenns. For now, there was only one missing Crow that they suspected to have been eaten by those cannibals. Not dire enough to trouble the young King with all the way in the South. He flexed his hand that was starting to cramp again.
  
  Now he only needed to add a small mention about Tormund's son being in good health. Tormund wouldn't know the difference. Always when he read Jon's responses out loud at the large bonfire they held at least once a week, he could make his listeners believe whatever he wanted. He always made up a few extra sentences to placate Tormund. He knew that if his writing skills had been better and he would have written down all that Tormund wished him to, the responses that Jon faithfully sent in such elegant script would probably be similar to what Sandor pretended the messages to contain anyway. So he was not really being dishonest, just practical. Amongst the Free Folk he was admired for being able to read and write. Even as poorly as he mastered his letters, amongst the Free Folk, he was only second to Mance when it came to that skill.
  
  He just added a greeting from Orell and signed the damned thing. His hand was cramping but the small bandages that Ygritte had needed to fix again after their rather violent coupling were still in place. A relieved sigh that he was done before she returned from her hunt passed his lips. Perhaps he would go out and find some wood to build a small table without her knowing. He could surprise her with it when it was finished. Ygritte liked surprises like that and Sandor above all things liked to please his woman.
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter will span two moons. Aside from finally hearing about Benjen's love life, Jon and Dany will leave for the Stormlands. The interlude is simply a letter from Robb.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Of young men and heroes
  Chapter 48: Of young men and heroes
  
  Summary:
  
  A small time skip. The chapter spans days 148-177 in our young King's reign.
  
  Notes:
  
  Enjoy.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Sennights passed by without concrete progress. Jon was growing impatient. Negotiations with Stannis Baratheon took much longer than expected, delays between messages taking often three sennights or more. Lord Varys had trouble sifting through all the rumours to separate truth from fabrication. His enemies it seemed had grown wiser and were using the Master of Whispers' own tactics against him. All kinds of fake rumours were reaching the capital. Prince Trystan of House Martell was said to be betrothed to Lady Shireen Baratheon in return for Dorne's support to 'King' Stannis' claim. Then again the same rumour circulated about Lord Dickon of House Tarly and the Lady Shireen. Both rumours were discredited with little effort but others were not so easily neutralised.
  
  Several sellsword companies were reported to be negotiating with King Stannis. Ser Jorah's report contradicted these rumours but since several moons had passed, his information could be outdated. It was possible that Lord Stannis of House Baratheon had upped the fee he offered substantially. Some houses from the Reach, the Crownlands and even disgruntled nobles in the Riverlands allegedly supported his cause secretly. Those who had started these rumours had been smart enough not to mention any names. They also insinuated that they had successfully infiltrated the usurper's inner circle. Euron Greyjoy's fleet was reported to have grown considerably in size over the last few moons. This rumour had been confirmed by a short messages form Harry Strickland. The Ironborn really believed that Euron Greyjoy had a way to defeat the dragons and several who had deserted his ranks and had hidden in Essos for a while had returned when word spread that Euron Greyjoy had vowed on the Drowned God that nobody would be punished if they promised to fight for him.
  
  Varys reassured Jon that all their allies had been alerted and all had reaffirmed their loyalty and agreed to offer military support. On the subject of a spy in their own ranks, Varys was adamant that he had found no sign of false play in the Red Keep and did his best to convince the small council that they need not fear anyone turning their cloaks and double-crossing them here in the capital. The moment that someone mentioned Dickon Tarly's name as possible infiltrator, Sam vouched for his brother.
  
  "Just imagine you were the Master of Whispers of Stannis Baratheon." Sam Tarly pointed out to Varys. "Baratheon is sure that he has the allegiance of my father, Lord Randyll of House Tarly. By now, everyone in King's Landing knows that Dickon has been singled out by our King and was granted a private audience. I'm sure my brother boasted to his acquaintances and all who would listen that he is allowed to train with the Sword of the Morning and I know for a fact that Dickon sends detailed reports to my father of all his activities. Wouldn't you use such a situation to exaggerate what these messages contain and destabilize the other camp? My younger brother though is no political mastermind. I'd say Dickon and I complement each other. I am no real fighter, but he is or will be. He is no player of the game and I am learning to become one."
  
  "You are not giving yourself enough credit, Sam." Jon intervened at this time. "If I were the enemy's Master of Whispers, I would spread rumours about the fact that the eldest son of Lord Tarly had infiltrated the usurper's small council. What secrets can your brother ferret out? At best he can overhear a bit of gossip in the training yard. You on the other hand are the dangerous one as far a conspiracy theories go."
  
  Sam blushed. "I would never."
  
  "I know that, Sam. We all do. We were talking about fake rumours and creating doubt in the other camp, were we not? I can assure you that everyone in this room believes that neither you nor Dickon are spies that are sending our enemy intelligence." Everyone nodded and Jon moved the meeting along. "Is there really nothing else we can do but wait for Stannis Baratheon to accept our latest version of the counter proposal for a parlay?"
  
  "I'm sorry, my King." Varys bowed his head. "Until Stannis announces a time and agrees to the meeting place you proposed, there is not much we can do except for using the extra time to gather more intelligence."
  
  Jon sighed and listened to Varys who once more told them that no word had reached him yet of the whereabouts of Melisandre, the missing red Priestess. Soon after, he ended the meeting trying to keep his growing frustration to himself.
  
  Uncle Ned and Bran were still travelling North. Common sense had made him lessen the frequency of his communication sessions with Bran. And when they connected, he kept the conversations short since his cousin had no real news to impart and the growing distance made it difficult and somewhat painful at times. Luckily all was quiet on the far side of the Wall or so the reports he had received from his correspondents would have him believe. Jon often worried his allies might be growing complacent over there. The only thing that reassured him somewhat were the reports that he received every moon from Castle Black and Eastwatch containing detailed descriptions of the strengthening of their defenses and the increasing number of dragonglass weapons. The blacksmiths were mostly concentrating on creating small arrow points now from the left over bits and pieces. Jon knew that another ship carrying dragonglass north would arrive at Eastwatch any day now. Since they had the extra time, he would see to it that they kept producing dragonglass weapons until they had enough for however long the war against the dead would last and then some.
  
  The only thing that had lifted Jon's spirits during this period of waiting had been their trip to Dragonstone. They had discovered the secret hiding place shortly after entering the old nursery and had discovered some books, scrolls and two candles. Jon and Dany had been moved to tears when one of these books really turned out to be a personal diary of Prince Rhaegar. Despite the fact that it did not help them much in their quest for information on how to defeat their mystical enemy, it gave Jon and Dany a unique insight in a certain period of the life of Jon's father's and the older brother that Dany had never known. The diary spanned the events of a few moons leading up to the tourney of Harrenhal. The entries stopped on the day that the Prince left Dragonstone for Harrenhal, so it contained no mention of his first encounters with Lady Lyanna Stark. They did find Prince Rhaegar's theories and argumentations on how he needed to find a bride of winter to fulfil the prophecy of the three headed dragon and the Prince That Was Promised. He referenced the old Pact of Ice and Fire several times.
  
  The hiding place had contained a few other items worthy of their attention: two strange candles and a large scroll mentioning Joramun, a legendary King Beyond the Wall. They did not know whether this King Joramun had really existed or if it was just a tale. None of them had ever heard of the man before. What made the tale interesting was that it made mention of a Horn of Winter, also called the Horn of Joramun since King Joramun was the hero that according to the legend had used this horn to wake giants form the earth and thus had played a large part in helping the First Men and the Children of the Forest to defeat the Great Other.
  
  They had all perused the other dusty old books that had been discovered in the same hiding place for additional information. Sam had startled them all by letting out a victory scream when he had stumbled on a small note in one of the old books referring to a secret book written by the people of Old Valyria that was hidden in plain sight since the cover of the book concealed its true content. The three of them had extended their stay on Dragonstone and had started another scavenger hunt, this time for a book describing the different kinds of seaweeds and other underwater plants to be found in the eastern seas. After a long search Sam had been the one to find the book in question on a low corner shelve in the library of Dragonstone. A thick volume that halfway through indeed had contained hidden chapters with information on old Valyria. They had finally found an account of the history of the Dragonriders of old written by the hand of one of Jon's ancestors. What is more, it described how before the doom the Targaryens and other families on Old Valyria had tamed their dragons.
  
  At first they had been ecstatic until it dawned on them that they had tried almost everything that was mentioned in the hidden chapters already aside from using a whip and chaining the dragons when they disobeyed. There was an entire chapter on wizards being ordered to create a magical object to bind dragons to a rider by mixing blood of the dragon and the wannabee dragonrider, but all experiments that were documented in the old book were reported to have failed. A few families had more luck making the dragons respond to them than others, House Targaryen being one of them. Through the ages, House Targaryen and a certain type of dragons grew closer and developed what the book described as a 'respectful bond' . Sam had been amazed to read how many different species of dragons had once existed in Old Valyria. He had not been able to let the book out of his sight for days.
  
  Dany however had been discouraged. She had ridden Viserion several times a day during their stay on Dragonstone, but still didn't feel any significant progress. Keeping to his pledge of honesty, Jon had disclosed to her that the dragon as of yet only indulged her because she was a Valyrian and the wife of his brother's bonded human, no more, no less. Jon had needed all his powers of persuasion to get her to keep faith that Bran's vision of her riding a dragon into war would one day come to pass. "Bran is certain you and Viserion were bonded then. Besides, I would never let you fly off and fight a battle without me if you could not control Viserion sufficiently. That alone is proof enough that it is true." While doing his utmost to convince her, he needed to disguise his own doubts. Not all visions came true and each of their actions or inactions for that matter could change the future. He could still hear Lord Reed cautioning him about changing things and self-fulfilling prophesies. He kept silent on this and instead used one of Davos' pearls of wisdom to get her to calm down.
  
  'It is no use forcing things,' Davos had told Jon more than once and he now repeated it to Dany. "Everything will happen in its own time if it is meant to be. We can only bring our best effort. We won't give up, Dany."
  
  Sam had been fascinated with the two candles. An entire chapter in his father's diary was dedicated to these objects. Prince Rhaegal had found them a few moons before in the caves on Dragonstone in a hollow space behind a stone that had symbols carved into it suspected to be thousands of years old. Prince Rhaegar had brought the Maester to the caves to study the drawings. The old Maester had exclaimed that this was proof that the history books were right. The caves on Dragonstone had once housed a tribe of Children of the Forest a few thousands of years ago. He entertained the possibility that some of the symbols on the rock had been made before the Andals, and even before the First Men roamed these parts of Westeros. Prince Rhaegal wrote that he considered it only a small leap of faith to believe that the candles had once belonged to the Children of the Forest. He had not told the Maester of this find. His instincts had told him to keep them hidden for now.
  
  His father had copied some of the symbols found on the large rock and some others he had discovered later when he had ventured deeper into the caves. Below these drawings he had written down his theory of what they might mean. According to Prince Rhaegar, they were linked to the northern tale of the Long Night, proving once and for all that the Long Night was more than just a folk's tale. According to his father, these drawings were a faithful narrative of what had happened thousands of years ago.
  
  The White Walkers and their army of dead had tried to conquer the living beings of Westeros. The First Men and the Children of the Forest quickly realised that this new enemy was far more dangerous than anything that they had ever faced before and without working together, they almost certainly faced extinction. Therefore they had made peace with the First Men for the first time since this species had come to Westeros and had taken most of the territories of the Children away from them. This historic pact was the sole reason that the living defeated the White Walkers and in the end the combined forces of the First Men and the Children of the Forest - together with the giants if the tale of King Joramun was to be believed - defeated the enemy and the living survived. Over time though the Children of the Forest had retreated deeper into the woods and were never seen or heard of again. Upon reading Prince Rhaegar's speculations, their small party including his trusted Kingsguards had ventured into the caves and using his father's directions they had indeed found the rock that had been described at great length in the diary and an entire wall covered in these pictograms.
  
  The diary also made mention of a book on the North that had dedicated an entire chapter on speculating whether there were still Children of the Forest alive in this day and age hidden in remote parts of Westeros. The word GIANTS had been written in large capital letters and had been underlined several times and put between question marks. When Jon had summarized all this to Sam, his friend had urged him to read on. Sam was most fascinated with the alleged magic candles. Jon found a passage in the diary that mentioned the existence of an old scroll at Castle Black that mentioned the existence of such candles. Maester Aemon had summarized its contents when Prince Rhaegar had written to him about his find. The scroll mentioned that these candles had magic abilities. But only a 'worthy one' could light them with his mind. The book explained that whoever held the candle could communicate with a similar candle no matter the distance that separated them. It only worked however when there was another 'worthy' person holding the other candle in a distant enough location to warrant the use of such magic. To Sam's disappointment the next paragraph in the diary mentioned how Prince Rhaegar had more urgent things to prepare for and had hidden the candles hoping that one day he could take them out again and perform a test when his children were old enough.
  
  Jon and Dany had retired that night and Dany had lamented the fact that all their rides with Viserion had yielded no significant result. Jon let her vent her frustration for a while and instead of once more trying to cheer her up with idle words he merely repeated Davos' advice to let everything happen in its own time. When she acquiesced, Jon was amazed to discover that he felt a bit better as well. And anyway, it was not as if they had another choice.
  
  Dany had promised to take a step back and from now on planned to ride Viserion without attempting to force her will on the dragon. She would do her utmost to stay patient and show the dragon that she respected the fact that he was his own master. She would make sure he felt how pleased she was that he let her ride him of his own free will. Before falling asleep Jon had whispered, "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together." And pulling her closer he had added. "At the end of each day, we will always have this. We will always have each other."
  
  The next morning, they had made one last stroll on the green cliffs and said goodbye to Sam in the library of Dragonstone. His friend would take an extra day to inspect the books there. Jon and Dany flew back to the Red Keep and left Sam to follow by ship. Jon had given Sam his permission to bring all the books he needed back with him to the Red Keep. The knights of the Kingsguard and Dragonguard that had followed them to Dragonstone would accompany Sam on the journey and could help carry them. Jon had personally supervised the packing of the two candles in a crate filled with soft material and trusted his Kingsguard to transport them safely to the Red Keep.
  
  His father's diary was small enough for Jon to carry on his person. He had only let it out of his sight long enough for Sam to read it once and since then he kept it in his pocket the rest of their stay on Dragonstone. The diary gave him a unique insight in his father's mind that he would always treasure it. It also contained parts of letters that Prince Rhaegar had intended to send to his wife Elia if ever he found his bride of winter. It explained his intentions of setting her aside temporarily to assure that his third heir would be trueborn in the eyes of the realm. He promised to never forsake Elia nor the two precious children she had given him. He would simply be taking two wives. Jon was glad he had found the irrefutable proof that Prince Rhaegar had never intended to shame Princess Elia nor take away his elder brother's right to the Iron Throne. He fully intended to show this part of the diary to Oberyn at the first opportunity. He knew how much Oberyn had loved his sister and how close he had been with Prince Rhaegar. He was sure that reading these words would mean the world to Oberyn.
  
  Not minding the fact that with Dany in his arms, they had read the diary in its entirety twice already, they had fallen into a habit of reading at least one page out loud before retiring at night. For these occasions, they chose the lighter passages where the Prince mused about the meaning of conversations and encounters, or philosophised about fate versus free will and other similar topics. For the first time in his life, Jon was absolutely sure that he had things in common with his father. Several of the thoughts written down in the diary were topics that Jon had struggled with at some point as well. What is more, he had often drawn the same conclusions as the man who had written it all down in this precious book. Only for that find, Jon considered the trip to have been a huge success.
  
  Day 148 in the Reign of King Aegon VI
  
  "Ser Gerold will leave with the army and your entire Kingsguard right after the Queens eighteenth nameday celebration, your Grace. He talked it through with Ser Jorah and after a long deliberation, the Lord Commander opted to accept Ser Jorah's proposal to let the Dragonguard guard both of you until you leave for the Stormlands and also during the days that you will have returned to King's Landing before your Kingsguard will have made it to the capital again. The Golden Company will set sail to the Stormlands and Princess Arianne has moved a third of her troops to the spot picked by Stannis Baratheon to keep up the pretense. The Dornish fleet is waiting at Ghost Hill and can transport the rest of her army at a moment's notice."
  
  Jon nodded at Davos' words. "Then Dany and I will fly to the appointed spot two days before the parlay is set to take place. I suppose Euron Greyjoy will have his fleet nearby. We always knew that they would pick a spot near the shores. You said you know the place?"
  
  Davos nodded. "I do, very well actually. It is an abandoned area. The nearest settlement is more than a day's ride in each direction. There are several caves where soldiers can hide. But there are some on our side of the border as well. He went to the desk drawer and took out some writing materials and started to draw. "Just imagine that this is the coast line. The beach is rather wide, next to it you have a forest of about a mile wide before you reach the clearing a bit further inland where we will station our army." Then he drew the border.
  
  Jon studied the drawing. A forest to separate the fleet from the parlay spot, that did create opportunities. And where are these caves situated?"
  
  Davos marked a few spots rather close to the coastline both on the Baratheon side of the border that he had depictured across the scroll and put two additional crosses close to each other below the roughly drawn frontier. Then he put the feather down and looked at his King. "I'm glad that the Golden Company has agreed to play along with Stanniseven if it means risking their stellar reputation. At least that way we will have allies out on the water and we'll know what is happening out there. I have sent Strickland the signals we have come up with. He agreed with almost all of them and only amended one to make it more feasible."
  
  "It is a pity that we can't order our own fleet to sail closer, Davos."
  
  "We decided on what we thought was wisest, son. Twenty of our ships have already moved as far south as we dare without risking detection. We have to be very careful not to show all our cards too soon. Besides, we won't need more men. We can easily match their ground forces. We have the element of surprise on our side at sea and we rule the air." Davos explained calmly. "Still I would prefer that the Queen stays safely behind in King's Landing."
  
  "If only you could talk her out of it," Jon sighed. "I attempted it a few times already, but had to desist. Dany always uses the argument that I promised her that we would rule together and that us men underestimate her strength and are too often inclined to shield her from harm like a damsel in distress which she wants to prove once and for all that she isn't."
  
  "Is she... ," Davos started to ask.
  
  Jon shook his head. "Her moonblood came again yesterday evening. That is another reason why she wants to come along. She fears that we will miss a cycle. I am grateful that you convinced her that couples often don't conceive during the first year of marriage but the information that Master Pylos gave us about the small period that a female is more fertile,..." Jon shook his head. "She counts the days faithfully every moon and is not willing to leave anything to chance."
  
  Davos looked troubled, even if it was not the first time his King had shared this with him. "I'm sorry, Jon."
  
  Jon however blushed. "Don't be. The worst thing that has happened until now is that she asks me to couple with her more than once on these days. Not really a hardship."
  
  Davos frowned now. "But it is causing us trouble now if she won't let you leave for war on your own for the sole reason of being without her husband's seed on her fertile days. That is not a good outcome."
  
  "As I told you, it is not her only reason. She is adamant to be present at the parlay. If we can't change her mind by the time that we have to leave, Ghost, the dragons, not to mention an entire army and my sword hand will make sure that she stays safe." Jon's tone clearly indicated that he considered the topic closed. "If you don't mind, I have promised Uncle Benjen to join him this afternoon. At least he is willing to do as I ask without protest. He will stay behind in King's Landing and steer the small council in our absence. I am glad you are coming with me though, Davos."
  
  "The place of a King's Hand during a parlay is at his right side, Jon. I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm glad your Kingsguard is complete and Ser Gerold is training new members to join the Royal Guard. We have come a long way. Seven White Cloaks, Seven Dragonguards and already twenty sworn members of the Royal Guard all up to standard and ready to fill any open spot if necessary. They are an asset in helping us guard the palace. It's been a while since I last saw your three loyal knights with bags under their eyes. And to complete my report, the City Watch is also at full strength. It will be much more difficult to kidnap a member of the royal family now."
  
  Jon shook his head. "Don't tempt fate, Davos. I am well aware that my family is my greatest weakness. I'm glad that Varys has increased his network to heighten the chances that each foul plot is nipped in the bud. The last attempt that got as far as the gates of the Red Keep was well over a moon ago."
  
  "And I pray that it will stay that way. Now don't keep your uncle waiting. I'll find Sam and read over the latest edit of the new trade agreement with Volantis."
  
  Jon nodded and considered his last talk with Sam. Now that they had successfully created Valyrian steel, Sam was running out of excuses to postpone his Maester studies at the Citadel. The latest plan was that Sam would stay until Jon left for the Wall to battle the dead. As unwilling as Jon was to see his friend go, in the greater scheme of things, Sam needed to forge his chain and win the recognition of the Archmaesters. He would accept nobody but his friend as Grand Maester. The Citadel would have to be persuaded to give in one way or the other.
  
  Sometimes he feared the potential threat that a conspiracy of corrupted Maester could cause. They advised and often steered the actions of the noble houses. If ever they were to put aside their holy oaths and use their influence to increase their power, the realm could be in great danger. He mentally shook his head. Best not dwell on that now. That was a topic to analyse when peace reigned in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond the Wall. Besides, he'd better head out. Uncle Benjen was sure to be waiting for him at the start of the tunnels.
  
  Jon and his uncle succeeded at least once every sennight to escape the confines of the Red Keep and race their horses out on the part of the beach that was cordoned off as a sanctuary for his dragons. As they exited the tunnel, two of his Kingsguards were waiting for them with their favourite mounts. Even Ser Gerold admitted that there was no safer location for his King to indulge in a horse race. Jon had promised his Lord Commander to see to it that the dragons were always awake and alert the entire time that he was out there.
  
  He and Dany had found a wonderful balance between spending private time together and affording each other enough opportunities to enjoy a bit of time apart and not neglect their respective group of friends. Jon knew that Dany was helping Lady Myrcella to choose furniture for a nursery at this very moment. Even if Myrcella had not felt the quickening yet, she had not been able to keep it a secret that she and Willas were expecting their firstborn. Once more Jon thanked the Gods that Davos had such a calming effect on Dany's insecurities. Even if at times he caught her looking at Myrcella's stomach with wistful expression on her face, she kept her spirits up and more importantly, she allowed him in her bed on the days when her moonblood was upon her.
  
  He looked over to his uncle when he realised that Uncle Benjen had not protested that Jon was wool gathering and neglecting present company. He looked closer and it seemed that his uncle was guilty of the very same thing. His uncle finally noticed his stare and petted the neck of his horse. Jon spurred his heels and his horse reacted immediately uppingd the pace. Uncle Benjen followed easily and they both allowed their horses to have the run of the beach. Some time later he and his uncle sat on their favourite rock allowing their mounts a bit of rest.
  
  Seeing his uncle looking very relaxed he uttered the question he had been dying to ask for some time. "Well Uncle, how is married life treating you these days? Do you get enough sleep? You did not look very alert earlier. Should I use my royal authority to curb your wife's demands on your time?"
  
  His uncle smiled, not bothered in the least by his nephew's remarks. "Tease me all you want, Nephew. You can't spoil my good mood. I regret nothing. Or perhaps, I do. I regret that the Gods let so many good years of my life pass by before allowing me to experience why marriage is sacred."
  
  "So you renounce your previous theory that the Gods wanted you to help raise me and that that was the noblest task you could ever imagine?" Jon pretended to be offended.
  
  "Imagine for a moment that I would have raised you with a kind wife at my side. You would have been so much better prepared to handle all the women that flirt with you at Court instead of blushing like a virgin when they try something the least bit daring." Uncle Benjen smirked when he saw he had successfully touched a sore spot.
  
  "I'm glad you're happy, Uncle." Jon quickly turned the subject back to Uncle Benjen. "Davos warned me that it would perhaps be difficult for a man your age to adapt to cohabitating with a female. Something about old habits?"
  
  "Well tell your fountain of wisdom that even though he is wrong in that particular instance, we are greatly in his debt. If he had not worked the famed Davos-magic on my wife..."
  
  "You should have let him talk to her before you proposed the first two times."
  
  Uncle Benjen didn't suppress a sappy smile. "You know the saying, three is a charm. I am ever so glad that the two of you talked me into risking utter humiliation yet another time."
  
  Jon gently nudged his uncle's shoulder. "You're most welcome, Uncle. Have you heard back from Uncle Ned yet?"
  
  Benjen Stark's expression sobered. "I got a short congratulatory letter. He did invite me to visit Winterfell and politely mentioned I could bring my wife along. So there is that at least. Robb's letter was more cordial. It did contain more questions and requests for private details than anything else but I could read genuine excitement between the lines." Uncle Benjen's eyes had lit up again when he mentioned Robb's letter. These two apparently were more than just okay again.
  
  "Did Aunt Ashara reveal to you what happened between her and Uncle Ned back then?"
  
  Benjen held in his breath the very moment Jon's question registered and jumped up to pet his horse. Jon slowly got up as well and approached his own horse. He manoeuvred them so the both of them were stuck between the two large romps of their mounts. When he saw the warring emotions on his uncle's face he quickly backed down. "No hard feelings if you want to keep that to yourself, Uncle."
  
  "I know, Jon. But the thing is, I believe you need to know. It will make you understand things better and you will know never to bring the subject up nor hint at it in the slightest when we are in Ned's company."
  
  "In my defense, I did only bring this up in a place where it is just the two of us and we are in no danger of being overheard. I have only revealed to Dany the lean version that you allowed me to share with her and never comment when others fish for information."
  
  His uncle scanned the environment and saw that Ser Oswell and Ser Rayford were keeping up their position near the entrance of the passageway. It was only here on this beach where the dragons kept a close eye on Jon that the Kingsguard agreed to keep such a vast distance between them and their King. Benjen stopped petting his horse and turned his attention solely on his nephew. "I will allow you to share what I am going to tell you with Daenerys if the two of you promise to stop talking about it behind our backs."
  
  Jon knew that now was not the moment to tease his uncle by pointing out that the entire keep, hells the entire city and most probably in all parts of the realm where the news had already spread, the noble folk were gossiping about this marriage. Varys had told him that sennights before word of the secret ceremony had gotten out, speculation had run rampant and the slightest gesture between the Stark Prince and Lady Ashara of House Dayne that had been perceived as more affectionate than average or a word that had been spoken a bit terser than usual had stirred the rumours to new heights. When he answered his uncle, he spoke solemnly and honestly. "You can trust me to do as you wish. I give you my word, Uncle."
  
  Uncle Benjen manoeuvred their horses even closer together and spoke softly. "Ashara revealed all to me when she rejected me a second time. I already told you that the first time I proposed, I just accepted her refusal and walked away like a stupid, hurt fool. The second time I worked up the courage to ask her again, I ordered her to tell me why she would not marry me. You would have been proud of me, Nephew. I stood my ground and didn't accept her refusal without a valiant explanation, but what she revealed to me then took some time to digest."
  
  His uncle fell silent and seemed lost in the painful memory for a moment. Jon kept silent, making sure his horse did not make a sudden move. He would allow his uncle to tell him in his own time.
  
  His uncle soon found the words to continue. "According to Ashara, Ned acted with honour. He proposed to her when it became absolutely sure that she was with child. The timeline uh-it was- it was after Brandon had left for King's Landing and my Father had been summoned to Court to answer for the rash actions of his heir. Ashara was still in the Riverlands staying with some friends after her father had all but disowned her and had returned to Starfall without her. Ned had stayed behind to discuss possible alliances and strategies with the Riverlands, the Vale and the Stormlands."
  
  "As I said, he offered for her. He vowed that the child she carried would be presented to the north as his own trueborn son. He would take full responsibility for getting a Lady of a respectable house pregnant long before an official betrothal had been arranged. Nobody would have to know that the child was Brandon's. That way she could reconcile with her family and his brother's child would be a trueborn Stark even if it lost his right to Winterfell as firstborn son of the heir if she gave birth to a boy. At that time, it was still presumed that Brandon's first son by Catelyn Tully would inherit Winterfell and become Warden of the North after Brandon." Jon nodded and Benjen took a deep breath before continuing.
  
  "You know what happened next. The Mad King executed both Brandon and my father in a cruel manner and everything fell apart. The Northern Lords were screaming for blood to revenge the murder of their Warden and his very popular heir. They all loved Brandon and considered Ned merely a pale shadow of his older brother. Lord Arryn for reasons of his own pushed for war and Lord Baratheon, well everyone who was acquainted with Robert Baratheon back then knew that the man was counting the days until he could prove his prowess with his warhammer on the battlefield.
  
  Ned was pressured to accept a betrothal to Lady Catelyn of House Tully. He had to choose between saving the honour of one Dornish Lady and legalising Brandon's unborn child or gain two or maybe three Kingdoms as allies for the North and save his bannermen from perishing in the Rebellion or dying a traitor's death. Without his marriage, the North that had all but declared war on the Crown stood alone and didn't stand a chance."
  
  "Ashara told me that he came to her the night before he needed to give his answer to Lord Hoster of House Tully and Lord Jon of House Arryn. The coward put the choice, the responsibility in her hands and swore he would keep his promise to her no matter the cost if she asked it of him. Foolish, honourable Ned told her that he considered himself bound by his word to her and could only offer for Lady Catelyn of House Tully if Ashara willingly released him first. He went to great lengths to explain the consequences of it all for House Stark and the North though."
  
  Benjen looked at Jon to see if he got the implications. Jon nodded and kept silent. He understood all too well that Uncle Ned had transferred all responsibility to Lady Ashara and that she would be blamed for the suffering of the North if she held him to his word. There was no way that the Northern Lords would accept her as the Lady of Winterfell.
  
  "Ashara of course broke the secret betrothal. Even if that meant that there was a big chance that Dorne would be on the losing side of the coming conflict. And that one act made Ashara and Ned a part of opposite sides of the rebellion. I wonder if she would have acted differently if she could have foreseen the horrible fate of Prince Rhaegar and his family. At the time she reckoned that both sides would parlay and a full scale war could yet be avoided if Prince Rhaegar succeeded in taking the throne from his father. As for her own fate, many knew of her shame by then and things could hardly get any worse. How wrong she was. Things turned out far worse than she could have ever imagined." Uncle Benjen paused visibly overcome. Jon kept silent realising all too well that this was not the end of the story. He stroked his horse willing it to stay calm.
  
  Benjen Stark in the meantime had regained enough of his composure to continue. "Ashara admitted that she was very harsh when she addressed Ned to make sure that he would accept her refusal. She even threatened him that if he approached her once more, her brother, the famed Sword of the Morning would challenge him to a duel and would fight him to the death to avenge the insult House Stark had done House Dayne by taking his noble sister's maidenhead. The both of them knew that that would mean a death sentence for Ned and an even bigger blow for House Stark and the North. At the time I was too young to lead the bannermen into war but would have had to since the North was shouting for blood."
  
  Benjen Stark fell silent once more. Jon waited for a while but when nothing was forthcoming he probed softly. "What happened next?"
  
  Benjen avoided Jon's eyes, focusing on the reigns of his horse instead. "When the news reached Starfall of Ser Arthur's demise, Lord Dayne fell ill and the Maester sent word to her that he was not expected to recover. Ashara despite the fact that her father had banished her from Starfall and the advanced state of her pregnancy undertook the journey south. She was allowed entrance by her former handmaid and hurried to her father's bedside. She nursed him and kept him company during his final days. Together they grieved for Ser Arthur. Lord Dayne made her promise never to contact House Stark again." Benjen swallowed thickly, his voice sounding hollow when he forced the next words out. "Not long after her father died, Ashara went into labour. It was a difficult birth. Ashara almost died and the child, a little girl, was stillborn. By then her reputation was utterly ruined and she uh, she attempted to take her own life."
  
  A heavy silence fell and only the snorting of the horses broke the silence. Ghost lay a bit further on the beach keeping a watchful eye on them some time had passed, Jon surmised that this was all that his uncle would say about this today and touched his arm. "I feel so sorry for her, Uncle. It is a miracle that she was able to turn her life around and become the calm, level-headed woman that she is today. I am even more grateful now that you two found happiness after all those years." His uncle nodded and kept silent.
  
  Jon ignoring the tears he saw in his uncle's eyes, decided to express his support once more and at the same time give his uncle additional time to pull himself together again. "I understand better now why you married her with just Dany, me and Ser Arthur as witnesses. It also makes more sense that you did not allow me to make an announcement before the court until everything was final and the two of you got a chance to grow closer. I know from experience that it is easier to deal with the outside world once when a couple has grown at ease with each other. I solemnly promise that I won't bring up the subject with you ever again unless you express the need to talk about it."
  
  Benjen let go of the reigns he hand been crushing between his hands and enveloped his nephew in a tight embrace that Jon didn't hesitate to reciprocate. "Thanks, Jon. Perhaps, uh maybe in twelve moons' time, when the Queen's Ladies-in-Waiting are more mature and attuned to their responsibilities, Ashara could be released from her duties? We would like to live in a modest dwelling of our own instead of sharing rooms in the Red Keep. We will of course stay in King's Landing near you and I'll keep spending enough time with you and stay on as a member of the Small Council. That goes without saying. But at the end of the day, we yearn for a bit more privacy, for the feeling of actually forming our own small family, the two of us. I mean not that I am tired of living close to you but a household all of our own..."
  
  "Of course, Uncle. You don't need to say another word. I understand and would yearn for the same were I not the King. I'll talk to Dany so she can start looking for someone suitable to replace Aunt Ashara. That way she might be released of her duties sooner. Do you, uh, do you reckon that she will still be able to bear you children, Uncle? Or is that too personal a subject to discuss?"
  
  "The Maester says it is still possible though not very likely. We don't mind. We were resigned to live our lives without a spouse. We are blessed to have found happiness in marriage at a time that we had both given up on it. If I had wanted children, I could have taken a younger wife. I am quite a catch these days, or was before my marriage." Uncle Benjen put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up in the saddle with ease. "Enough of all this talk of feelings and such. We are men, not tattling females. I'll race you: the first one to the storm breaker." Benjen Stark spurred his horse and had two lengths on his nephew before the latter's horse gained full speed. Ghost sped after them, happy that they were again doing what they had come here to do.
  
  The next day
  
  "Explain again why I can't go with you?" Gendry puffed out his chest not giving way. He had just finished cleaning his hands with soap and water and was now drying them. "It is my future homestead you are trying to free after all. How can I impress dearest Uncle Renly if you won't let me go? I'd like to show him that I am this fearless fighter who can stand his own. Renly Baratheon has yet to see me wield my hammer." Ghost approached Gendry begging to be petted. "Would you really ruin my chances of spitting my good for nothing, traitorous Uncle Stannis in the face? See, Ghost agrees with me." Gendry checked whether his hands were spotless before making a show of petting Ghost's white fur affectionately with both hands.
  
  "More like he wants to comfort you since he knows I am right and you will have to give in eventually," Jon argued, silently allowing Ghost to stay at Gendry's side for now. It seemed that Gendry was a Baratheon through and through. Just yesterday he and Uncle Benjen had discussed Robert Baratheon's eagerness to prove his prowess on the battlefield in his younger years.
  
  Gendry huffed and now hugged Ghost. "Missed you boy. You should come by the forge more often." His eyes then got that intimidating quality as they resumed their staring contest. "I am still waiting for an explanation, Jon. It had better be a good one."
  
  Jon watched his direwolf enjoying the attention Gendry lavished on him. Gendry was a loyal friend. He'd have to tread carefully. "I want you to stay here and look after Cousin Shireen and my Stark cousins. I need you to coordinate with Sam and continue the preparations for the war in the North. You also have several breastplates and a few harnesses to finish. Bran warned me not to neglect the Great War for the sake of this southern conflict. Since I am taking Davos with me, I count on you to stand up for Sam. Uncle Benjen will help but he will focus on domestic affairs. Sam's first priority must be answering the messages from Castle Black and the Free Folk. He must also be allowed to continue his research. The other matters are less urgent and should be delegated to Maester Pylos. I trust you to see to it that Sam eats and rests enough and you are the only one capable of keeping Arya out of trouble."
  
  "Why me? Can't you delegate these tasks to someone else?" Gendry complained but the way he said it made it this time made it clear that he was close to caving.
  
  "You are the only friend I can ask, Gendry. Edric can't come to my aid since he is with the Dornish army and Loras will have to accompany me seeing how he is a sworn member of my Kingsguard. He needs to follow the orders of his Lord Commander. Robb is stuck in the North. I might have considered Lord Newton but it will be some time before Domeric can return south to protect Lady Shireen. He has the Newfort to renovate and make more hospitable for his future bride. He is struggling to introduce a new way of living at the Dreadfort uh I mean the Newfort and the surrounding farms. His last letter spoke of having to settle uprising between farmers and their servants. Several still insist on mistreating their underlings. Apparently his father had allowed the farmers to lord over their small dominion and consider their servants and labourers as no more than slaves. You'd be the first to agree that he can't return to King's Landing before this is settled. His father, Lord Bolton allowed his farmers to rape the women who lived on their lands and even let them mistreat smaller boys and girls alike any way they saw fit. I had hoped that abolishing first night and flaying had been enough but some former Bolton tenants have been abusing their farmhands and their kin for centuries, thinking nothing of it. A change of mentality is required. Lord Domeric of House Newton has his work cut out for him."
  
  Gendry nodded. "I spoke with him a few times before he left." When Jon arched his brow, Gendry added. "After I was finished threatening him with bodily harm if ever he hurt or dishonoured Shireen, we spoke about other things man to man. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. I agreed to send him word of Lady Shireen once in a while and he has answered with news from his part of the realm. I have faith in Lord Domeric whatever the name of his house. I am convinced that he is a decent man and will make a good husband for Shireen."
  
  "I believe so too." Jon exhaled slowly.
  
  "But that was a long explanation about the Newfort, entirely beside to point of our initial discussion. Let's focus again on the subject of me not being allowed to travel with your army to the Stormlands. You are taking my uncle Renly with you but not me," Gendry complained still not appeased.
  
  "I don't like that I have to bring him, Gendry. I'd much rather have you by my side but I must anticipate any demand that Lord Stannis Baratheon can possibly make of me. Proving that his brother is alive and well might be one of them. Besides, if I let you come as well, how long would it take for us to discover that Arya managed somehow to sneak off to the Stormlands in some disguise or other? If you stay here, there is a chance that she will as well."
  
  "Why give me armour, hells a full harness, allow me to forge a hammer with Valyrian steel elements if my sole purpose is to babysit your cousins?"
  
  "For the Great War, Gendry! I will not allow the others to bring out those few pieces of newValyrian steel just yet. We have managed to keep it under wraps for now. It was a genius idea to hang normal weapons in here in plain view and hide the others in sealed up crates."
  
  "And my reward for all the effort I have poured into this is staying behind to babysit some girls, ladies whatever. Thanks, Jon!" Gendry shook his head. He made a formidable picture standing there with his legs a bit apart and his arms crossed before him. He was a bit taller than Jon and of a bulkier built. In a pissing contest with fisticuffs, Jon didn't stand a chance and they both knew it.
  
  Jon decided to change tactics. "Gendry, you will be one of my most important assets when we go north. You are one of the few who realises exactly what we are up against there and I will heavily rely upon you when I am in the air. I intend to give you command of a large part of the ground troops. I will need you to inspire them and give them courage when the screeching wights start charging. It is also very important to continue our preparations here. You and Sam still have much to organise and prepare. The war beyond the Wall will be the only war that matters. This current mission to the Stormlands will hopefully turn out to be a diplomatic one only. I hate to pull the King-card on you. Please do this because I ask you as a friend? I can always call on the pact."
  
  Gendry nodded slowly. He had relaxed his stance but Jon could sense that he was still not pleased.
  
  "Uncle Benjen took this much better," Jon mumbled.
  
  "I would too if I was still in the honeymoon phase." The corners of Gendry's mouth curved upwards despite himself. "I never thought to see an older man so besotted."
  
  "Same here," Jon readily agreed. He was quick to take advantage of the change in topic to ease the tension between them. "Uncle Benjen and Lady Ashara looked like a young couple on the day they said their vows."
  
  "He made me wonder about marriage." Gendry spoke softly now. Then he looked Jon straight in the eye and his tone was firm when he declared. "I know what your wishes are in that regard, Jon. I am neither blind nor deaf, nor am I a fool. I will never force her though."
  
  Jon nodded. "And I would never ask you to. Also there is no need to make a decision about this anytime soon, Gendry. But I admit that I should have brought this up with you as soon as Aunt Catelyn and Uncle Ned started to see the potential and get their hopes up. But instead I just let it hang there. I apologize and will use this opportunity to make myself very clear. I will never force Arya to wed. I will never allow for her to be used as a trading piece in the game of politics as long as I have any say. She will wed the man of her choice or remain single. I made sure that it will be entirely up to her. I have obtained her father's promise that he will heed her wishes in that regard. And to make absolutely sure that you believe me, I promise you that I will personally inform her of that very fact before I leave for the Stormlands. Rest assured, I won't mention your name. Besides, we are both fools if we believe that anyone can force Arya to wed a man against her will. She would just run away and be very good at not being found."
  
  Gendry nodded, the edges of his mouth curling upwards again. "Or kill the one who is foolish enough to attempt to restrain her."
  
  Jon offered him a tentative smile in return. "So you'll stay?"
  
  "I'll stay. Under protest, but I'll stay. When are you leaving?"
  
  "If only I knew. I never realised it took so long for armies to be ready to move out. Our last estimate is a few days after the Queen's birthday celebrations."
  
  "Jon, by any chance, did you reconsider my request?" Jon's prolonged silence gave Gendry his answer. "Uncle Renly will not take well to the fact that I will have Valyrian armour and weapons and he isn't at least gifted a sword. He will resent me even more."
  
  "I thought things were better between the two of you. I have seen you enjoying supper in each other's company a few times lately," Jon argued.
  
  "We are trying but Loras mentioned he is still prone to bouts of jealousy. You see Loras more than he does and everyone knows that you favour me over him."
  
  "By that account he should be at odds with me, not with you," Jon protested feebly.
  
  "He can't take it out on his King now, can he? If you only would allow me to make him a beautiful sword, one that could become the pride of House Baratheon..."
  
  "You can make one, Gendry. Only not with Valyrian steel, at least not just yet." Jon sighed when he saw Gendry's face fall. "Gendry, you stood at the front row at Hardhome when the dead charged at you. Can you truly imagine Lord Renly positioning himself voluntarily in the thick of such a fight?" When Gendry shook his head reluctantly Jon continued. "Swords will have to be distributed with care and among the most valiant warriors, Gendry. And I will have to ask them to return these weapons to the Crown for safekeeping afterwards. I told you of the restrictions. This is not the same as distributing dragonglass in large quantities. Only a limited number of new Valyrian steel swords will be handed out. I will have to make each one of them count. I am not going to repeat the rules to you. Surely you know them by heart by now."
  
  "Then don't expect me and Uncle Renly to become close friends anytime soon, Jon! I refuse to become the kind of Lord he expects me to be. After all the trouble you and Davos went through to assure me that I didn't have to rule lands anytime soon and that I could stay true to myself, I finally was at piece with my new status. If needs be, I will learn from other Lords how to comport myself. My uncle is not..." His voice trailed off.
  
  "I'm sorry, Gendry. I'll help you and support you in your dealings with Lord Renly in any way I can, other than gifting him with Valyrian steel. Please understand. I'd hate to lose your friendship over this."
  
  "You won't," Gendry stated in his blunt, straightforward manner. "But I may stay a bit cross with you for a few days anyway. Just to save face." He nudged Jon's shoulder.
  
  "Are you sure? We are all getting together tonight as soon as Loras comes off duty. Sam will be disappointed if you don't show up." The relief on Jon's face was obvious when he tested his friend's resolution.
  
  "You're lucky that Sam is such a good friend of mine. I might just show up for his sake." Gendry's face broke into a disarming smile and Jon realised all was well.
  
  Day 177 in the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name
  
  Jon and Dany approached the Dragons. Lady Brienne, Ser Jorah and Ser Edwyd all kept their distance but stayed alert. They had done their job impeccably. Jon had enjoyed having Ser Brienne as his personal guard this sennight. Over the last few days he had more than once caught himself regretting that she had chosen a position in the Dragonguard. He had comforted himself with the knowledge that Ser Brienne was a clear favourite of Ser Jorah and if it could be arranged, the female knight always accompanied the Queen when she had separate duties from the King. It made him feel better about Dany's safety. He realised that he was not being entirely objective. In a fight Ser Brienne was neither better nor worse than her brothers, but she radiated protectiveness, an honest loyalty and fierceness that made him trust her implicitly. And while she never broke protocol, she did ease up rather easily when in private and Dany and he had a contest going of how many times they could get her to smile in a single day.
  
  But now Ser Brienne stood as stern as her fellow Dragonguards and performed their last duty as substitute Kingsguards before the royal couple joined the armies that would have reached their destination by now. A large force of soldiers from different regions had left almost a sennight ago. The mounted knights as well as the foot soldiers needed to travel along the Kingsroad that led them around a large part of Blackwater Bay. Ghost had disappeared a few days later. Jon and Dany would be able to travel much quicker. Flying meant that they could take the shorter road and just cross the Bay staying east instead of having to circle all the way around Blackwater Bay. They would be there in no time.
  
  He looked to his left to see Dany standing next to Viserion. She was wearing boiled leather and breaches just like him. He had not succeeded in talking her out of this. She was going to make sure that Stannis Baratheon and his allies saw them fly in on two dragons and she would stand next to him during the parlay. Two dragonriders would send a stronger message than one, she had argued several times. Besides how better to send a message to the realm that she was not merely a consort than by conducting the parlay together as equals?
  
  Jon knew that she was confident on Viserion by now. Her seat was excellent even when they had practised sharp turns and a steep ascent or descent. But even after spending time with the dragons almost every day for the last moon, she still did not steer Viserion. Neither could she sense his moods. The few commands that they had familiarised him with were mere suggestions to the silver white dragon. He mostly decided to follow Jon and Rhaegal. Jon always made sure to repeat Dany's orders silently to both dragons so everyone else got the impression that Viserion obeyed her. Despite all that, they were both confident that in case an unexpected danger arose, the dragons would protect her as fiercely as they would him. Whatever miracle Bran had predicted that would happen to make Dany bond with Viserion, had not occurred yet.
  
  "No matter what happens, stay close to me, Dany." He embraced her tightly before he helped her on Viserion's back. "This will be one of the longer flights we've taken together. If you feel tired or want to stop, remember the hand gestures we came up with."
  
  "I am confident we can reach our destination without a stopover, Aegon." She smiled and shouted "Soves." Both dragons took to the air. Jon waved to the Dragonguard that watched them disappear but knew that they would not brake protocol and return his informal gesture, not even Ser Brienne.
  
  The flight was a bit shorter than the one needed to reach Dragonstone. Soon, they spotted their forces from afar. The black and red banners were a sight to be seen. Jon had asked the Lannister men not to dress too ostentatiously in order to trick the enemy. They hoped to keep Stannis fooled that Tyrion Lannister and his men had stayed neutral for as long as possible. The Lannister forces had also restrained from displaying the easily recognisable red and golden banners of their Liege Lord as ordered. A bit earlier the dragons had flown over the small part of their fleet that lay concealed in a bay a bit further north. Now they easily spotted a large fleet anchored before the beaches on the southern side of the border. They still flew too high up to be able to distinguish between the sigils of the Ironborn and the Golden Company. Jon didn't make an effort to count the ships. It would take too long.
  
  It had already been confirmed by their scouts that Euron's fleet had been joined by several ships of the Golden Company. Harry Strickland's last raven had been sent from Pentos more than a sennight ago, just before his ships had set sail for Westeros. For now the man only had a verbal agreement with Stannis Baratheon. Strickland had refused any down payment before the promised men set foot on Westerosi soil. Since Stannnis Baratheon had never before negotiated a contract with an Essosi sellsword company, the ignorant fool had not realised how unusual such terms actually were. The Golden Company and Strickland's honour had not been fully committed yet.
  
  Jon on the other hand had obtained the Captain-General's solemn promise. When open conflict was inevitable, the ships of the Golden Company would prevent the Ironborn fleet from sailing away. If it came to a battle, Strickland had Jon's leave to confiscate any vessel he succeeded in capturing intact and add it to the Golden Company's fleet. They had exchanged ideas on possible battle strategies and had agreed to refrain from setting ships alight if at all possible.
  
  Jon figured it was all overkill. So much planning and so many resources had gone into preparing for this parlay that had been postponed time and again. Luckily all was quiet in the North and Jon had seen to it that they had not stopped their efforts to prepare for the war against the Others and their army of wights. Sam and Gendry were working together and supervising these matters in Jon's absence. They had an abundance of dragonglass weapons by now. Two more ships had carried an entire hold of raw material to Eastwatch. The blacksmiths that Gendry had trained over there had been working non-stop. They had supplied the northern most Islands with dragonglass weapons and instructed them to keep watch over their cemeteries if they did not agree to burn the dead that lay buried there as a precautionary measure. Jon knew that Davos and Sam had asked Lord Umber to coordinate the distribution of dragonglass amongst the northern Lords on the continent giving precedence to the most northern region.
  
  Jon received regular reports from Sandor as well as from Jaime Lannister. The last one had included drawings of war machines, large catapults, ballista's, large hooks riddled with dragonglass thorns that could slide like a pendulum along the wall to swipe off anyone that attempted to climb the large ice structure. On Lannister's demand an alchemist had travelled North and was producing wildfire and a kind of explosive powder. Sam had received a recipe from the Citadel after he had enquired whether such a thing existed. Even if Jon had contributed little, he had to admit that all was well underway.
  
  Jon would have liked to focus his attention on the Great War against his most dangerous enemy and get involved more actively with the preparations, but instead he was stuck trying to talk or trick Stannis Baratheon into surrendering without causing - or at the very least minimizing - bloodshed. Bran had told him to remain patient. The enemy to the north was not in a hurry so there was still time. " Just consider this the first hurdle you need to take, the first phase of the Great War ." Bran had advised. " I can feel that the outcome of this battle has significance for what happens next in the north. This parlay is important, Jon. "
  
  He heard cheering and focused his attention on his surroundings. He gestured to Dany to prepare to land. He pointed at the red flag that Davos had planted on the beach to mark their landing spot as previously planned. He scanned the area and noticed the promised cave entrances coming into view. These would shelter his dragons from wind and rain while they rested. The Stormlands were notorious for their strong winds and never ending rainstorms. The dragons had spotted the caves as well and Jon felt their eagerness as they set in the descent.
  
  Flanked by Ghost his seven Kingsguards appeared with two extra horses the moment the dragons landed on the beach with their King and Queen. Jon greeted all of them by name. He smiled perhaps a bit more warmly at his three former mentors wom he greeted first. Then he nodded at Ser Loras and Ser Rayford and lastly he acknowledged Ser Patreck of House Mallister and Ser Lionel of House Lefford. These were the final two who had been named to his Kingsguard on day fifty-five. The thought struck him that they had been guarding him for more than one hundred days already. Time had moved quickly, at least in that regard. He got along with all of them, even if the two newer Kingsguards adhered strictly to protocol and hardly ever exchanged more than a few words with him.
  
  Before he mounted his horse, he quietly hugged his direwolf. The ride through the woods took only a short while. Davos had seen to it that a path had been cleared so they could easily access the beach with three riders racing side by side if need be. Dany, Jon and Davos dismounted in sync with his Kingsguard and they all walked over to the large war tent. Jon gestured for Ghost to stay outside and entered as soon as Ser Gerold gave him the all clear sign. Ser Gerold quickly ordered Ser Rayford, Ser Patreck and Ser Lionel to get some rest and gestured for the others to guard the entrance. Ser Gerold then entered the tent and took up position behind his King. All conversations stopped the moment the royal couple entered the war tent and all the men rose from their chairs and bowed. Davos immediately signalled a soldier lingering by the door to bring two additional chairs for the newly arrived King and Queen.
  
  Jon quickly surveyed the space. All the bannermen that had been given command of a division of his allied forces were present in the tent. As Davos had already whispered in his ear, it was reassuring to see with his own eyes that they had all heeded the call to arms. Lord Renly of House Baratheon was the odd one out since he was the only one not leading soldiers. That didn't prevent him from taking up the center seat normally reserved for the leader. Jon ignored that for the moment and greeted Lord Brynden of House Tully first. The Blackfish has insisted to lead the forces of the Riverlands despite the recent loss that his House had suffered. Lord Celtigar, the heir to Claw Isle led the combined forces from Dragonstone, the Driftmark and Claw Isle. Jon knew that most of the men he had under his command were still on the ships hidden from view for now.
  
  Next his eye fell on Lord Yohn of House Royce and he acknowledged him with a nod. The loyal man had left the Vale after all and according to Davos had brought a large number of fierce looking knights with him as promised. Lord Willas of House Tyrell had showed up with troops from the Reach. No bannermen from House Tarly were present but since each region had been asked to bring only half of its fighting men, nobody questioned that fact. Ser Gerold whispered in his ear that atop his horse, the heir to the Reach had made an impressive sight and nobody thought twice about thinking less of him because of his limp. Lord Kevan of House Lannister led the forces of the Westerlands.
  
  Jon and Dany stood at the far side of the table near the entrance of the tent. They greeted everyone and formally thanked them for coming. When a servant entered with two additional chairs and Lord Renly of House Baratheon made no move to make room for them, Jon chose to seat Dany and himself at the lower end of the table so everyone had to readjust their positions to address them. He waited until everyone had regained their seats when he officially opened the meeting. "I am grateful to see that even at a time when my reign is still young, I can count on all of you. As you all know, there is still a good chance that we can reach an agreement and we promise you that the Queen, my Hand and I will try everything possible to prevent an all-out battle. Still, it heartens me to see that you are willing and ready to defend my claim and help me bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms." He paused and made sure that he met everyone's eyes for a short moment. Satisfied with their solemn, alert expressions he pushed the meeting forward. "Now let's discuss what will happen over the next few days. Ser Gerold," he turned to his Lord Commander, "if you will go first?"
  
  "As a precautionary measure, we stopped sending ravens to our allies." Ser Gerold commented and then proceeded with reciting the tentative information that the scouts had brought in concerning the enemies position and numbers. Next he gave an overview of the number of tents where the latrines were, how many guards were posted and ended with listing the number of craftsmen, healers and other supporting camp followers. As soon as he had finished, he handed his King the updated list with food supplies and extra weapons they had brought to replace the most damaged ones if need be. Jon had nodded several times throughout his long speech and thanked his Lord Commander when he fell silent.
  
  Once more Jon's eyes roved over the men present. "Now if you could all take turns to provide me with the exact number of cavalry and ground troops that each of you have brought and where you have set up camp respectively?"
  
  They all quickly gave a short overview of the manpower and resources each of them had under his command and Jon spoke a few words of appreciation to each of them separately. Only now did he notice Thoros of Myr sitting in the farthest corner of the tent following proceedings unobtrusively. He knew from Davos that the priest had been most useful in bringing them news from the enemy's movements and numbers and Jon acknowledged him with a small nod of his head making the mental note to speak with him one on one before the parlay.
  
  "I will take the dragons and scout the environment tomorrow morning." Jon informed them all. When Ser Gerold frowned, he added. "I will stay very high up. I just want to see with my own eyes where Stannis Baratheon has stationed his troops and check whether he has not made some last moment adjustments. I'll also try to determine the exact location of Lord Tarly and his men." He saw Lord Willas of House Tyrell cast an uneasy glance in his direction at these words. "If there is still time, I intend to fly to the locations where our allies from Dorne have been sent to as well. Then in the afternoon we will reconvene and resume our war council. I want a plan of action for both outcomes of the parlay, a plan for a peaceful occupation of the Stormlands and one for an all-out attack. I want us to be ready the very moment we return from the parlay if Stannis Baratheon rejects every version of our peace offer. That said, I believe that nothing further needs to be done tonight unless," he looked at the assembled commanders one by one. "Does everyone have sufficient tents and access to supporting personnel? Have all the supplies been allotted in good order?"
  
  Jon once more let each commander have his turn. When the last one finished reassuring his King that all was under control, he reckoned that they had covered enough for their initial meeting. He was about to stand but felt Dany's small hand on his arm.
  
  "Perhaps we can visit each camp tonight?" Dany ventured. "Show the brave soldiers who they have come to support?"
  
  Jon gestured Ser Gerold not to protest. "I have a better plan," Jon answered and then looked between Ser Gerold and Dany again. "Why not make a large bonfire tonight and have a delegation from each camp join us. We can always survey the troops tomorrow shortly after noon. That way it will be light and they all can see us better." Ser Gerold nodded and promised to make the necessary arrangements. Dany rose the moment Jon did and the royal couple left the war tent. Ghost immediately reappeared, startling his Kingsguard as he wrestled his way to Jon's side.
  
  "I want to come along when you go scouting, Aegon." Dany told him softly as soon as they had been shown to the tent that had been assigned to them.
  
  "I don't know, Dany." Jon unfastened his coat and checked the two makeshift cots. He started to push them together and readjusted the furs. Ghost immediately claimed the extra space this created and made himself comfortable. His red eyes stayed alert however and followed each of Jon's movements.
  
  "You told Ser Gerold that there was no risk involved. Please, Aegon. I'll keep close to you. Two see more than one and if anything should happen, I can assist you. You always say that there is safety in numbers." She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.
  
  Jon looked into her pleading eyes. 'Why not?' He thought. It was a short scouting mission, high up in the air. The worst that could happen was that they were spotted by the enemy who would know of their arrival by then anyway. He took her in her arms. "Promise me you'll stay close and won't do anything reckless? Whatever happens, you'll follow my lead?"
  
  She smiled gratefully. "I'll do anything you ask of me. Thank you, Aegon. I'll prove that I am an asset to you. Let us show the realm that two Targaryen dragonriders rule Westeros." She kissed him and then leaned her head against his chest. Jon held her tight but released her when he heard a discreet cough. "Enter," Dany called and took a step back. Prince Oberyn appeared.
  
  "I just wanted to let you know that I had arrived, and all is well, your Graces. I'm sorry that I missed your grand entrance."
  
  "We welcome you, Oberyn," Dany answered softly. "Are you sure that Lord Stannis of House Baratheon still believes that the Dornish troops near his southern border are his to call upon?"
  
  Prince Oberyn nodded. "He isn't aware that Lord Edric of House Dayne has joined them. Our friend has kept his presence a secret from the main army. Only the men he brought from Starfall know who he is. He poses as a houseguard."
  
  "You've seen him recently? Is he well?" Jon asked.
  
  "He is well and telling you that he is eager to prove himself on the battlefield is an understatement." Prince Oberyn chuckled. "I venture to say that he is almost as bad as I was at that age. Almost. But then, if I am not mistaken, it is all because of a certain Lady. That is the motivation of many a young man and it can sometimes get him far but often it can be the sole reason of a hero's downfall."
  
  "I hope you didn't bore my friend, Edric to sleep with these superfluous musings. Tell me that you sparred with him at least once so you can report to me how battle ready he actually is." Jon started their familiar banter.
  
  "I did much better, Aegon. I set up a fight for him against one of my stronger houseguards and bet on the outcome." Prince Oberyn didn't blink his eyes once.
  
  Jon raised his brow. "Do I want to know how that went?"
  
  "I wouldn't want to bore you to sleep, my King." Oberyn mocked. Then he took Dany's hand and kissed the back of her hand. "I heard you left your Dragonguard behind, Daenerys. Do you wish me to step in and fill the void?"
  
  "My Dragonguard has orders to protect my Stark cousins and all my Ladies-in-Waiting. Don't worry, Oberyn, Gendry Baratheon has promised to also guard their virtue with his life."
  
  "You mistake my meaning. I was not worrying about them but about you, dearest."
  
  "How come? We have the entire Kingsguard here, all sworn to protect us. I am sure they will be capable enough to keep Aegon and me safe."
  
  "Oh but you forget, my sweet girl that their first duty is to jump in front of their King. I would shield you with my body without a thought for Aegon here." Beneath the flirting tone of Oberyn's voice, the honest wish to protect her was evident.
  
  Jon chose to intervene. "I would immediately give you leave to protect the Queen after you proved to me..."
  
  "On second thought, I am sure I can convince my good friend Ser Arthur to protect you with his life. If not on my first try, then certainly when I make him believe that you are carrying the future trueborn King in your womb." Oberyn hoped that he had distracted Aegon sufficiently from challenging him to a spar. He had been training rather diligently these last few moons and the odds were increasing in his favour but then again, the outcome was not certain enough yet and to give in would mean at the very least losing their moons' long ongoing word game. He was not ready to concede verbal victory just yet.
  
  Jon frowned when Dany leaned into him seeking comfort. He instinctively put his arm around her and pulled her even closer. Oberyn immediately guessed that he had inadvertently reminded Daenerys, whom he now surmised was not pregnant yet, of that exact fact. "Can I ask for a place of honour at tonight's bonfire at least? I just got the invite from Davos who was nice enough to assign me a tent for my sole use." He winked.
  
  "I would love to have you sit next to me." Dany was quick to answer. "Aegon might disregard your services but I certainly would love to have a handsome well trained Dornish Prince to be my shield tonight."
  
  "Then I will bring my sharpest spear, my Queen." He bowed with a silent promise in his eyes to Aegon and left the tent.
  
  Dany sighed when she watched Prince Oberyn leave. She eyed the furs. "Not much privacy in a tent amidst an army, is there?" She hugged him and kissed the corner of his mouth.
  
  "None at all. We will have to be very quiet tonight." He nipped her earlobe playfully and whispered in her ear, "Never mind our environment, I will give you my seed tonight and one way or another I will make sure that we both keep silent."
  
  "Better make sure that our guards know when they are not to let anyone disturb us. Use one of your clever signs or something, I don't care, as long as I can relax." Her hand lingered on his buttocks as she drawled out the word 'relax' seductively. He almost yelped as she squeezed his left buttock. "You know what I mean," she added suggestively. Then she blew him a kiss and turned around to bend over to reach for her bag. She playfully wiggled her butt while she checked which personal items she needed to unpack before it grew too dark.
  
  Interlude 48: A letter from the North
  
  My favourite cousin,
  
  Do not be alarmed to receive this long letter that travelled for a moon before reaching you. We are all in good health and there is peace in the North. I sincerely hope that the houseguard of House Mormont whom I entrusted to put this letter in your hands personally was adequate in reassuring you that there is no cause for alarm and that the content of this letter merely contains a very personal matter that I wish to lay out before you in greater length than a scroll could allow me. Also this way I am assured that no strange eyes will look upon this letter and I can skip the need to encode this monstrosity. You can trust the messenger implicitly and can give him a return message for Winterfell should you be so inclined after digesting the news that I am to impart below. The messenger will wait for as long as you need to compose a reply. Just let him know whether it is your wish that he do so. Whatever you decide, I pray that you will do me the kindness to send me a short scroll by raven in any event containing a first reaction to the tidings that I am about to share with you now.
  
  Our reunion or better my trip to King's Landing will be delayed with several moons because I am betrothed and will be married as soon as I receive your consent. Hopeefully that will be about the time that both my parents and the kin of my bride have joined us at Winterfell. No, this is not a poorly fabricated jest and yes, I realise that I will have to tell Father first before I can rightfully claim that I am betrothed. Even though I fear Father's wrath, I am convinced that he will eventually grant us his consent. There is no other way for House Stark to retain its honourable reputation since I got a noble lady with child and my own honour will not allow me to father a bastard. I'm sorry to be so blunt but after writing several draft versions and spilling an inkpot in frustration, I decided that being straightforward was the best way to break the news to you. So here it is. I have lain with Lady Dacey of House Mormont, numerous times if I am to be completely honest and today, one hundred and forty four days after you ascended the throne, Dacey hit the two moon mark of not seeing any moonblood. We consulted with Maester Luwin and sworn him to secrecy for now. He is as certain as he can be at this stage. I will skip over all the small symptoms that he stated as proof. Dacey assures me that she knows her body and has no doubts that I am to be a father, Jon.
  
  This means that I will have my own family soon and I am going to do all that I can to keep my future wife and child safe. I will hold off on telling my father until after I have received a raven from you to confirm that you did indeed receive the news from me first. Dacey assures me that she can keep her condition hidden until then. Knowing my father, one of his first actions will be sending word to you immediately and I really wanted you to hear the news from me first. This way I can explain to you all the circumstances and allow you the opportunity to make up your own mind before Father has a chance to influence your reaction.
  
  I am aware that you will be disappointed in me for my lack of self-restraint and as my King, you have the right to refuse your consent. But as you best friend and cousin, I beg you to hear me out before condemning me... us. I am happy, Jon. For the first time in moons I feel as if I have a purpose again. I know that you have been worried about me and I love you for it. This knowledge gives me hope that you will at the very least feel some measure of gratitude towards the person who helped me regain that last bit of confidence that I lost and gave me a reason to once again look forward to the future with great anticipation and joy. I know that I can be happy with her and the child, Jon. So as my friend please consider my well-being and keep that open mind that I so envy you for.
  
  As you know from my previous messages, I have hosted several noble daughters of the North at Winterfell for some time now. I enjoyed dining and dancing with them but kept my distance trying to act as a Warden should and not show any preference until you or Father decided who I should take to wife. But then Dacey happened. She arrived later than the others and the first time I really noticed her was when she showed up during a sword training session. Instead of praising me afterward and flirting with me as the others are wont to do at every opportunity, she merely observed. She stayed patiently throughout the entire session and only after I was done, she cornered me while I was removing my armour. And make no mistake, it was not to seduce or flatter me. She scolded me for holding back and squandering opportunities. Most of the arguments she threw at me were spot on. Allow me to explain to you that my future wife is very adept with a mace. As all Mormont women, she has been allowed to train with weapons from a young age on.
  
  After the third training session ended, I was fed up with her admonishments and I responded to her taunts by challenging her to a spar. You can surely imagine the rest. We got to know each other and as often is the case between regular sparring partners, mutual respect developed and evolved into a friendship. Perhaps mother is right after all and unrelated girls and boys cannot simply be friends. My body started to respond to hers and I refuse to blame her for my not being able to resist her. The truth is that I started bedding her in secret and after that first time, I did so every day that we were able to find an opportunity to indulge ourselves without getting caught. She faithfully drank her moontea every morning, Jon. She is not to blame. We had no inkling that drinking moontea is not a fool proof method to prevent a pregnancy. It was Maester Luwin that explained to us that some women can be immune to the effects of even the strongest moontea. He advised us to just accept the situation and that after all was said and done all parties would concur that our union would actually benefit the North.
  
  As your friend and cousin, I beg you to rejoice with me. As my King I ask you to look at this match objectively. Since politically there is no longer any need for me to marry a daughter of a ruling house, it is beneficial for House Stark to marry a noble Lady from a northern House. House Mormont is a strong loyal House and Dacey is a healthy, intelligent, capable woman that will be an asset to House Stark and can help me rule the North the right way when Father grows too old and steps down.
  
  I am aware that my feelings for her are not equal yet to the pure love that you have for your Dany. But know that I already care deeply for Dacey. I greatly respect her attitude, her strength and yes despite our current predicament, her morals as well. We had made a promise to one another and needed only time to get both our parents warmed up to the idea of a union between our houses. Before we learned she was with child, I was sure that I could convince you to approve of her once you got to know her. She is a lady that is not afraid to speak her mind or act when she notices what she perceives as unjust treatment of the weak. She protects Rickon as fiercely as any farmer or even the lowest servant. I admire her fervour even if I have needed to interfere more than once already and come up with a smart compromise to keep all parties happy. I can't help but admire her straightforwardness and have found myself copying it at times, despite the fact that it is that same straightforwardness that got us into our current situation. She loves me dearly and saw no wrong in acting upon her feelings, truly believing that she was doing all she could so there would be no consequences of us anticipating our wedding vows. I am convinced that it is only a matter of time before I can honestly tell her that I return her love and will cherish her more than any other living being ever for the rest of my days.
  
  I realise while I write this that chances are that you will be entertaining the possibility that she entrapped me and that I am a fool for falling for it. If only you could meet her and talk to her for a short moment, I am convinced that you would see what I see in her and believe what I am desperately trying to explain to you. Dacey did not intend to force me into a betrothal. Hells, we had our biggest fight when I proposed to say our vows that very same night we found out that she was with child. She even talked of breaking things off and returning to Bear Island. I had the utmost difficulty to convince her to stay and only did so after she extracted a vow from me. I was obliged to promise her that until we actually say our vows before the heart tree with our families present, I will still bow out if I change my mind. And she means it. She is ready to release me and return to Bear Island the very moment I let her know that such is my wish. She is confident that she can raise our child there on her own without causing a scandal and have it bear the Mormont name. She listed a number of her ancestors, of Mormont women that had done just that. Her family would never forsake her. Our child would want for nothing and have the same rights as a trueborn. I beg you to believe me that the fact that she is with child is just a strange twist of fate and was not her intention. She blames herself but I am slowly making progress at convincing her that I truly am looking forward to having a child with her and that my happiness will be complete only after our child is born after she has taken on the new name of Lady Dacey of House Stark. Still, an encouraging word from you would do wonders, my cousin and make us both sleep better at night.
  
  My last argument is perhaps the one that will convince you and on second thought I should have led with that. Greywind took to her from the first time she let him sniff her. I should have picked up on it instantly. After all you urged me more than once not to neglect Greywind's intuition. He is far smarter than I will ever be. For now I must often caution him to stop seeking her company so often and more importantly to stop pulling attention to her stomach. It is clear that he has nominated himself as my unborn child's staunchest protector. If anyone will betray our secret before enough time passes to receive a reaction from you, it will be Greywind, my faithful direwolf. I am sure if Arya were here she would have questioned Greywind's behaviour already. Rickon, thankfully is just pleased that at least one of all these troublesome lady guests is not afraid of the direwolves. Dacey and Rickon often spend time together with the wolves when I am otherwise occupied.
  
  And Jon, just last night, something amazing happened. I had another wolf dream. I was Greywind and he was keeping Dacey company after I left her in her room. He lay on her bed with his head close to her stomach and that's when I heard it for the first time:a second heartbeat! And before you tell me that I am just imagining things, I am very sure that that was what is was. Dacey's heartbeat is a slow steady thumb. This one was a much softer sound and the pace of the beating was much faster. I'd reckon double the pace of Dacey's. I literally heard my future child's heartbeat, Jon! I awoke with tears on my face. I can't begin to describe what went through me. I sincerely hope you may experience the same soon if you haven't already.
  
  I wish you lived closer and I simply could have travelled to you and told you all of this in person. Now I have to be satisfied with the mental picture of you hugging me tight and promising me that all will be well and that whatever happens, we can deal with it together. I still hear your words when we made our pact. Whatever happens, we can always call on the five of us so we can combine our efforts to make sure that things will work out. I am convinced though that I won't have to. I somehow sense that you will have my back. I strongly wish for the time that you and Dany, and me and Dacey will all sit together around a bonfire and laugh about how an unexpected turn of fate found an oblivious Robb Stark the best possible wife he was always destined to end up with. But the time for wishful thinking and dreaming is not now. At this very moment, I am a man about to fight for his family. I am to become a father and already feel responsible for the wellbeing of my future wife and unborn child. So I will do everything in my power to procure their happiness and keep them safe.
  
  So this is my plea to you, Jon. Support me and write to Father that a union between House Mormont and House Stark has your royal approval. But most of all I wish for my best friend and cousin to be happy for me and send me his congratulations by raven as quickly as possible. I am of sound mind when I write to you that I found a woman I can see myself grow old with and that I am counting the moons until I can welcome my firstborn.
  
  That said, whatever you may decide, know that I won't stop trying to persuade you and Father that my decision has been made and I feel deep inside that it is the right one, the best one for all parties concerned. I would rather give up my claim to the North to Bran than forsake my betrothed and child. I will count the days until sufficient time passes for the messenger to find you and add a few for a raven to reach me with a first response from my best friend, my favourite cousin and esteemed King.
  
  Until then,
  
  Your cousin, best friend and loyal subject no matter what lies in our future
  
  Prince Robb of House Stark, Prince of the North
  
  PS: I will hold off on telling anyone until I hear from you. This promise includes Sam, Loras, Gendry and Edric. Our friendship and my love and esteem for you are more important to me than our pact.
  
  End notes:
  
  In the next chapter not everything goes as they had so meticulously planned out. The interlude is a conversation between Arya and Gendry.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The best laid plans
  Chapter 49: The best laid plans
  
  Summary:
  
  They had been preparing for months for this and were ready for anything, weren't they? At least in King's Landing all is going well.
  
  Notes:
  
  The interlude turned out to be a bit longer than initially intended. I did not have the heart to cut this Gendrya encounter short.
  
  No beta so all mistakes are mine.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon exited the tent and walked toward the bonfire to claim a spot to share his supper with Dany who had opted to stay in the tent for a moment longer to do some vague female things he hadn't asked her to describe further. He had left Ghost with her and had been happy to notice that at least two of his Kingsguard stayed behind guarding the royal tent.
  
  Davos grabbed this opportunity to approach him. "Can we talk for a bit? Catch up on things? It's been a while since last we spoke."
  
  Jon turned to his squires who had organised a spot for him complete with several small stools just close enough to the bonfire not to get scorched. "Renny, Monty, can you wait over by my tent and escort the Queen here when she ventures outside? As soon as she is settled, you can fill a few plates of food and bring them to us. Only well-done meat. See to it that it is still hot when it arrives. Oh and can you explain to the Queen that there is no need to hurry, mention that it is still quiet out here and that Davos is keeping me company."
  
  "Yes, your Grace". The young boys jumped to their feet and last Jon saw them, they were running past the spot where a large pig was being roasted over a fire.
  
  Jon turned to this his Lord Commander who stood discreetly behind them with Ser Loras and Ser Patreck. "Ser Gerold can you send someone to inform the men who are guarding the perimeter of this royal space you so efficiently cordoned off to wait until I give you a signal before allowing the delegations to join us?
  
  "Consider it done, my King." Ser Gerold gestured for a royal guard to approach.
  
  "Sit down, son." Davos suggested and motioned to the primitive stools. Jon realising he had kind of missed that fatherly tone, readily complied. Davos handed him a cup of ale and sat down to his right. "Daenerys seems well enough?"
  
  "Yeah," Jon answered softly after he had taken a sip. "She is well. We both are well. She has been amazing actually when in Lady Myrcella's presence. You must consider that Lord Willas and Lady Myrcella married almost a moon later than we did and the last few days before we left, the Ladies-in-Waiting were eagerly anticipating news of the quickening. According to the Maester, that will happen any day now."
  
  Davos studied him. "Still nothing to report for the two of you then?"
  
  "She had her moonblood recently, so no. There is one upside to this situation. You see, I won't have to worry about having to protect my unborn heir high up in the air tomorrow morning. I'm having a hell of a time trying not to be overprotective." He admitted to his Hand and hunched his shoulders.
  
  "That's very understandable, Jon. We are all worried for her safety here. Ser Gerold has been complaining to me for days what a nightmare it will be to protect the both of you so close to enemy lines. I admit I am guilty of a bit of overprotectiveness myself. Even in King's Landing I sometimes worry over trivial things."
  
  "Like?"
  
  "I've often refrained from imploring you not to let the Queen spar so intensively with Princess Arya. Daenerys trains almost every morning these days and doesn't hold back."
  
  "Dany's technique is improving." Jon dodged his Hand's indirect request. "I actually prefer that it is Arya who is helping her. My little cousin knows what she is about and will not hurt Dany inadvertently." When Davos frowned, he added. "Don't worry. Dany promised to stop her training from the very moment she suspects that she is with child."
  
  "You've always liked Arya best of all your cousins."
  
  "Of all my female cousins." Jon corrected him, nudging Davos' shoulder gently.
  
  "Speaking about cousins, how is Gendry doing?"
  
  Jon smiled. Davos always had a soft spot for the young man and Jon understood how talk of Arya led to thinking of Gendry. Those two were inseparable of late.
  
  "We're still friends despite my forcing him to stay behind. But I do not think that is what you wanted to hear?"
  
  "I don't mind hearing about that as well. Tell me, is he healthy and not working too hard?"
  
  "He might be the healthiest of all of us, Davos. Don't worry, I asked Sam to look out for him. Arya will keep an eye on him as well." Jon reassured Davos.
  
  "And no doubt you asked Gendry to look out for the both of them and all the other ladies," Davos remarked studying the young King's reactions.
  
  "You know me too well, Davos. Why bother asking me these questions if you know all the answers already?
  
  "Perhaps I love to hear your version of things and I missed your company these last few days."
  
  "I'm here now." Jon moved a bit closer to the man he trusted the most of all his advisers. Realising Davos' fatherly feelings needed to be appeased, he decided to provide a better answer. "Gendry seems happy and only works in the forge two or three times each sennight. He never stays in the forge for more than half a day at a time. We need his expertise and it keeps him from growing bored. You can only take so many walks with cousins and friends. He is also keeping up his lessons with Sam and Maester Pylos and itches to go North with me. For now, Arya has been a great help in making sure that he doesn't isolate himself for hours on end. He fancies her although he doesn't want to discuss it. He takes the occasion meal sitting next to Lord Renly."
  
  "Thanks, son. Perhaps the fact that he is diligently attending his lessons with the Maester will help Lord Renly warm up to him. I make sure to praise Gendry once in a while within his uncle's hearing, but mostly Lord Baratheon just purses his lips and refuses to comment." Davos shook his head.
  
  "I am attempting the same thing. At least as his King, I get polite non-committal answers since Renly Baratheon can't alienate his sovereign. The man is a snob. And not only in dealing with his nephew. Just consider what he did today. He did not say a word during the meeting earlier. He doesn't contribute anything to our cause and still the high and mighty Lord feels that he is entitled to the center seat." He paused to take a deep breath and let out his frustration with Renly Baratheon to whom he was about to hand the Stormlands on a silver platter. Then his tone grew softer. "But I digress. I intended to mention to you that I have spoken with Lady Shireen before we left." Jon didn't have to look up to know that a worried expression had appeared on Davos' weathered face.
  
  "This is not an easy situation for her." Davos offered.
  
  Jon nodded. "I know. I promised her that you and I would attempt to move the Seven Heavens if that would help us find her mother and keep her safe from Stannis."
  
  Davos put his hand on Jon's knee for a moment. "I will pray to all the Gods that care to listen and ask them to help us keep that promise, son."
  
  They fell silent. Davos and Jon sat side by side simply relishing each other's company. Jon was the first one to continue the conversation. "Let's hope that we can get this parlay over with quickly. Then we can start to concentrate on the real war."
  
  "We agreed not to focus on the situation beyond the Wall while we were here. The only thing we will do to further that cause is to try and prevent bloodshed. Don't mention the North during the parlay."
  
  "I know, Davos. I know what I need to say and more importantly what I must not. When they rattle me or when in doubt, I will let you be my spokesmen. 'King' Stannis is deluded though. I can't begin to understand how his mind works."
  
  "Me either. Let's deal with Lord Stannis of House Baratheon and his delusions in the war council tomorrow after you've finished scouting. Now, let's talk about something else, something nice. How are Prince Benjen and Princess Ashara doing?"
  
  "Princess," Jon looked at Davos. "I had forgotten Ashara now carries that title. She certainly doesn't flaunt it the way my other Aunt does. To answer your question, they are doing wonderful. Marriage suits them. Even newly married, Princess Ashara doesn't neglect her responsibilities. She is also planning for the future. She already has two candidates lined up to replace her. Two widows a bit older than her, but familiar with life at court, willing to live in King's Landing and become responsible for all these young maidens and one pregnant recently married Lady-in-Waiting."
  
  "Do I know any of these candidates? I hope Daenerys chooses wisely."
  
  The corners of Jon's mouth curled up slightly. "I can assure you that it will not be Princess Catelyn. I don't know whether you are familiar with her candidates. Better talk to Dany about this. She knows more details than I do. I can only tell you how happy Uncle Benjen is. Most of the time, he is still wearing the same silly grin on his face as when he exited the Godswood moments after saying his vows. You were utterly wrong when you feared that he would not be able to adapt to sharing his living space with a female without the occasional fight."
  
  Davos smiled wistfully. "In this instance, it is wonderful to be wrong. I was so young when I married."
  
  "Just like us then," Dany remarked towering over them both. She smiled when they both startled. "Or wasn't I supposed to overhear this?"
  
  "No secrets here, my love." Jon reached for her hand and pulled her down to him. As soon as she sat down on the small stool that stood to his left, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
  
  She quickly scanned the environment and pecked his cheek. "Where did your squires run off to in such a hurry?"
  
  "They went to fetch us warm food." Jon pointed to the other fire where a pig was being roasted. He smiled the moment he noticed that he was correct in predicting her next question.
  
  "Ghost didn't follow me here. Do you know where he went?"
  
  "Out hunting, I guess." Jon shrugged his shoulders, not worried about his wolf's whereabouts. "Do you want me to check?"
  
  "No, it is just strange that he is not here to protect either you or me." She dropped the subject and looked past her husband. "How have things been here, Davos?"
  
  "I only arrived yesterday, so I have been rather busy. I am glad the both of you arrived safely. I can never get quite used to seeing the two of you arriving on those dragons. They have gotten even bigger."
  
  Dany chuckled. "You say that every time you see them."
  
  "He does." Jon confirmed while he lingered with his nose in her hair before giving her a chaste peck on her cheek. "But he is also right they have gotten bigger. He always is. You'd better get used to that. Are you hungry?"
  
  "Starving." She answered very convincingly. "I didn't eat much this morning. And after the long flight, my stomach felt a bit queasy so I didn't have an appetite during lunch. I believe I could eat two plates."
  
  Monty and Renny chose that moment to appear with three steaming plates containing a pile of food each. "We fetched one for you too Lord Hand.
  
  "Thanks, lads. I appreciate it." Davos accepted the plate after his King and Queen had received theirs.
  
  "Now run off and fetch something to eat for yourselves." Jon ordered them. He saw several of the royal guard helping out with distributing the food. Only Ser Gerold, Ser Patreck, Ser Oswell and Ser Loras still stood at attention a few feet away from the spot where the three of them were seated. Jon nodded at them and noticed they were more alert than ever, with their hands on the pommel of their respective swords, scanning the environment without pause.
  
  When they had eaten their fill, Jon signalled Ser Gerold. Ser Kevin Lannister was the first to be allowed to approach. The courtesies were kept short.
  
  "Your Graces," Lord Lannister bowed. "I wondered if I could use this opportunity to get a bit better acquainted?"
  
  "Of course. I hope you don't mind joining us here in these primitive surroundings." Jon gestured for a stool to be put in front of him. "It is always good to get to know one's military commanders better. I appreciate you taking the initiative."
  
  "Thank you, your Graces." Lord Kevan of House Lannister sat down. Jon made an effort to recall what Lord Tyrion had told him of this uncle as he studied the portly man before him. He had broad shoulders and a thick waist. His once blond hair was greying and he kept it short. His beard was also close-cropped. He had the Lannister green eyes and fair skin. He remembered Tyrion telling him that his uncle had become his own man as soon as he had stopped grieving over his older brother's disappearance. Before that he had just been a pale shadow doing Tywin Lannister's bidding. Tyrion had praised this uncle for his strategic mind and had claimed that the man was solid, reliable and the best man to lead the Lannister forces. And if Jon remembered correctly, this Lord Lannister had fathered three sons and one daughter. At the moment he envied Sam for his eidetic memory. He could recall the names of the first two sons, Lancel and Willem but no further. He had probably been too tired when Tyrion had told him of his extended family.
  
  "You left your wife and your children in good health, I trust?" Dany spoke up when Jon kept silent.
  
  "I preferred not to bring Lancel, who is my heir, your Grace. My twin boys, Willem and Martyn are still too young to be of much service having only recently celebrated their thirteenth nameday. Dorna insisted that I leave the boys at home. They were all in good health when I set out."
  
  "We brought a letter for you from your nephew in King's Landing. It is in my tent." He gestured for Monty who happened to look his way. The boy came running up. "Monty, you know where I keep the sealed messages we were asked to bring. Fetch the one that has Ser Kevan Lannister's name on it for us, please."
  
  "I am much obliged, you Grace." Kevan Lannister bowed his head in thanks. "My nephew was on point with his description of you. I should have known better than to doubt Tyrion's words."
  
  Jon smiled. "Lord Tyrion has a gift with words although he sometimes gets carried away. I have grown to like him." He took Dany's hand. "We both have."
  
  Dany nodded. "I only try to avoid him when he is a bit too deep in his cups."
  
  "He told me he was doing better." Kevan Lannister frowned.
  
  "He is." Davos was quick to mention. "He only overindulges at the occasion banquet when the other Lords challenge him. He prides himself that despite his small stature, he can keep up with the best of them in that department."
  
  Kevan Lannister chuckled now and Jon was glad to see the man relax a bit. Lannister nodded. "That's our Tyrion all right. But he can outdo larger men with other things as well."
  
  "Like winning at cyvasse or talking someone into doing things they had no intention of doing in the first place." Jon smiled. "I make sure I keep my wits about me every time I talk to him."
  
  "I am glad he turned out as he did. My nephew's childhood was not all that happy but nobody in the family dared to go against my older brother."
  
  "Who is ruling the Westerlands now that you have answered our summons?" Davos quickly changed the subject.
  
  "My sister, Jenna. Don't worry, Lord Hand. The servants know better than to try and go against her wishes. I left the Rock in capable hands."
  
  "She is married to Lord Emmon Frey, is she not?" Dany interjected.
  
  "Indeed, my Queen." Kevan Lannister sounded pleased the royal couple took such an interest in House Lannister.
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Gerold looked up. A delegation from the Vale begs to be introduced to your Graces."
  
  "And that was the reason we took our supper outside." Jon nodded to Kevan Lannister. "I am sure we will speak again. Perhaps a bit later, you can return and introduce some of your knights to us as well?" Then he turned to Ser Gerold. "Tell Lord Yohn of House Royce that we are happy to spend some time in the company of the honourable knights of the Vale."
  
  "Your Graces! Damned fine weather for the Stormlands, wouldn't you say?" The loud voice of Lord Royce boomed and Jon braced himself to meet the twenty knights that had accompanied the Lord Regent of the Vale, all very eager to exchange a few words with their King and Queen.
  
  Ghost turned up just when Jon and Dany were about to call it a night. The three of them walked slowly to their tent followed by their Kingsguard. Jon was about to enter the tent with Dany, when Thoros of Myr made it past his guards. "Do you still have time for a word, your Grace?"
  
  Jon helped Dany step inside the tent and murmured something in her ear. Dany gave him a quick kiss. Jon threw Ghost a look and the wolf obediently entered the tent and lay down next to the cots.
  
  "I presume you need a quiet spot to talk, Thoros?" Jon, reassured that Dany would be well-guarded, stood with his back to the tent.
  
  "I'd prefer that. The weather is fair for a change, perhaps a walk to the edge of the woods?"
  
  "I'll alert Ser Gerold. Don't worry. My Kingsguards are trained to keep just enough distance so we will be able to talk privately. And in the event that they should overhear a word or two, I trust these knights with my life and with my secrets." Jon reassured the Red Priest. A bit later they set out and Jon was glad that he had succeeded in getting away without Davos' noticing. He was sure this talk was one about magic and visions and Davos' presence would only make Thoros hold back.
  
  "Did you find Melisandre and were you able to communicate with her?" Jon asked when there was a fair distance between them and the encampment.
  
  "I did. That's the reason I came to find you when you were not surrounded by your advisers. I preferred to tell you first. The red Priestess asks for sanctuary and safe passage to the Wall. She claims that the Lord of Light tasked her to prepare everything over there for the arrival of the King That Was Promised. Your Lord Hand might not be as receptive to her request as I pray that you will be."
  
  Jon nodded. "My Stark cousin had a similar vision. I promise to spare her life and will help her reach the other side of the Wall safely."
  
  "Just like that? That was easy." Thoros smiled. "I like you, kid. I don't know if I told you as much before, but it is true. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. I would have to travel a long way to find someone who not only respects more than one religion but also readily embraces the existence of mystical forces that have been increasing their influence over the world of the living lately."
  
  "I have no other choice, Thoros. Do not forget that I stood eye to eye with the mystical creatures that we need to defeat north of the Wall. I would be a fool to reject the help of any deity that is willing to offer his assistance. Your Lord of Light has proven to be on our side. For now, we all have the same goal. Your God and my people have a vested interest in annihilating this common enemy. Such a situation makes for the strangest allies. I'll do everything in my power to help your Lord of Light, all living beings and the Old Gods to join forces and constructively work together, even if it has never been attempted before." Jon clarified.
  
  Thoros nodded. "So about Melisandre, she promises to contact you on Stormland territory while you are there for the parlay the day after next. She will be disguised but told me you will recognise her anyway. She hopes to leave with your party after the parlay.
  
  Jon studied Thoros for a moment. "She was the source of the intelligence you brought us?"
  
  "For the most part." Thoros conceded. "She is truly helping us, Jon. She convinced me that she has your interest at heart. I trust her. She is ready to lay down her life for you because she is adamant that you are the key to bringing the Dawn."
  
  "And the Lady Selyse? Did Melisandre bring you any news of her?" Jon asked Thoros.
  
  "Only that she stayed behind at Storm's End. She mentioned that Stannis Baratheon will ask for his daughter to be returned to them."
  
  Jon nodded. "And for countless other things that we will not grant him, I am sure. How does Euron Greyjoy fit into all this? What does he want?"
  
  "The Iron Throne." Thoros shook his head as if he did not believe that Jon could be so naïve. "Baratheon is a fool if he thinks the man is a trustworthy ally. Greyjoy will usurp him the moment he can."
  
  "Have you found out anything more about the magic that Greyjoy claims to possess?"
  
  "I only exchanged a few words with Melisandre before she had to make herself scarce again. I could not risk staying much longer without endangering myself. Many guards still know me from my disastrous visit to Storm's End a while back. Most of what I told you, she put in a small note that she handed me. To be entirely honest, I suspect her to be playing it safe. Just as I did, she probably presumes that you will need to be persuaded into helping her and it is likely that she will use whatever knowledge she has obtained as leverage to bargain for her life and safe passage on the dangerous journey north."
  
  Jon sighed. "The day after tomorrow then. I hope the intelligence she has obtained will not influence our tactics overly much. I intended to finalize our potential battle plans before leaving for the parlay."
  
  Thoros turned around and they started to walk back in the direction of the camp. "Your cousin, the greenseer, you mentioned just now that he had a vision about Melisandre?"
  
  "Yes. But I can't tell you much more than you already know. He claims that she will play a vital role beyond the Wall and somehow will be able to prepare me for my role or provide me with something or... ," he sighed. "Why do the Gods only show us bits and pieces and allow enough room for us to draw the wrong conclusions and fail anyway?"
  
  "I can only give you my best guess. As far as I understand it, the Gods are not a part of our realm. Even if they are much more powerful than all of us put together, they, for some reason are kept separate from interfering in in the affairs of mortals. But as with everything, nothing is fool proof and they have found a way to get through to our world occasionally. Unfortunately the messages they succeed in sending are uh distorted or something. Also, who knows how Gods actually communicate amongst each other. Perhaps they have to translate their way of communicating into ours and some things get lost in translation at their end as well?"
  
  Jon mulled that over for a bit. "My friend Sam would argue that all that you described just now is merely a hypothesis without any substantial proof to back up your premises so he would lend it no credibility."
  
  "I'd argue that Samwell Tarly can provide us with not a single plausible theory to explain the fact that visions reach us from somewhere. Tell me, does young Tarly worship the Seven?" He paused but continued when Jon gave no answer. "Believing what we can't see is the leap of faith each religion requires of its followers. The North and you, for as far as I know, worship odd looking trees that someone carved a face into hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago. The other folk living in Westeros pray to sculptures. What proof do any of them have that their Gods exist? I bet young Tarly can't come up with a logic explanation for the large following the Faith of the Seven have in Westeros."
  
  "This is perhaps too heavy a topic to end the day with." Jon gave Thoros a small smile. "But before we part, I wish to thank you, Thoros for your loyalty and all the help you have rendered my cause. You will always have a place at my court and I promise you here and now never to prosecute the disciples of R'hllor unless they commit a crime that is punishable by law. Burning people alive is forbidden, except when it occurs during a fierce battle in self-defense or to save the lives of your allies. The other exception is when the victim has stood trial and was sentenced to death."
  
  They walked in silence for a bit until they needed to separate to follow a different path to reach their respective tents. "Good night, King Aegon. Long may you reign." Thoros nodded to Jon and disappeared in the dark.
  
  Jon pushed the flap of the tent aside and found Dany asleep curled up against Ghost. The direwolf opened one eye and closed it again as soon as he recognised his human. Jon made quick work of removing his outerwear deciding to sleep in his tunic. He would put on a fresh one in the morning. Since the two small cots combined as they stood still had not enough room for the three of them he woke Ghost and convinced his wolf to make room. The direwolf readily obliged and settled himself at the foot of the makeshift bed without much protest. Jon now curled himself around Dany and threw his arm over her. It took him a while to empty his mind and fall asleep.
  
  Early the next morning, Dany woke him up and had little trouble convincing him to make good on the promise he made her the night before. The small cots proved to be too fragile and squeaky. A frustrated Dany threw the covers on the cold ground and pulled him on top of her. It was a hurried coupling and Jon was not entirely sure that she had reached her peak when he spilled his seed but she seemed satisfied as she convinced him to join her on their cots to cuddle some more. She stroked her belly slowly with a wistful expression on her face. "I can still feel your warm seed inside of me, Aegon. I always relish that feeling. Perhaps you can take me again before they bring us breakfast? It is still rather dark outside."
  
  Jon put his hand on top of hers and together they stroked her flat belly. "I will enjoy giving you my seed again, my love if that is what you truly desire. Just give me a bit of time to recuperate. I don't think it will make much of a difference though. I gave you plenty just now. The Gods will grant our wish when they decide it is time. Remember my vision. We will have a child or children one day. We can't have grandchildren otherwise." Jon frowned. His eyes had adjusted to the faint light and he noticed a large blue spot above her elbow. When his fingers moved over it he felt a small swelling there as well. "Where did you get this bruise?"
  
  "During my last spar with your cousin."
  
  "Arya usually is not that clumsy." Jon stated, the frown not leaving his face. "It is because I know that she has full control and can hold back when necessary that I'm not worried when she spars with you."
  
  "It wasn't Arya who did this. It was Sansa." Dany bit her lip.
  
  "Sansa is training with a sword?" Jon propped himself up on his elbow to better look at her face.
  
  "Shireen too." Dany confessed.
  
  Jon shook his head. "She never mentioned it. Neither did Shireen." He thought back to his last conversation with Shireen the day before the army was ready to march towards her homelands. His Baratheon cousin had confided to him how worried she was for her mother. She had also found the courage to enquire after what would happen to her father. Rationally she knew that her father's life was forfeit. She had pleaded though to let him join the Night's Watch if he surrendered or was captured alive. Jon had kept his answer vague about her father's fate and had quickly skipped to repeating his promise to do whatever he could to save her mother and maybe bring her back with them to King's Landing. He had been pleased when Shireen had hugged him and urged him sincerely to take care and come back safely to her, proving to Jon that her loyalty lay with him no matter what happened. Jon had reassured her that her cousin Gendry would keep her safe whatever the outcome in the Stormlands. That he should have brought up sword fighting lessons with her had been the farthest thing on his mind.
  
  He took Dany's hand. "Why didn't you mention it to me? Now that I think on it, it is strange no one told me. Ser Gerold never once brought it up during his detailed morning briefings. Perhaps one of you begged Ser Jorah to keep it quiet?" His free hand framed her face so she couldn't look away. "Are you being properly supervised during these sessions, Dany? Do you always wear enough padding? Sword fighting is no child's game. You could cripple each other by accident. What if you were pregnant without us knowing and something happened?"
  
  "Most of the time the Bravoosi sword teacher, Syrio Forel is present but the last time he was not because it was kind of an impromptu goodbye session sort of."
  
  He had noticed her becoming a bit irritated by the way he was questioning her actions but that didn't prevent him from uttering his next words in a condescending tone. "Do I need to have a talk with Ser Jorah? There must have been one or perhaps even two of your Dragonguards shadowing you. Were they just standing by when it happened?"
  
  "I understand your concern, Aegon. I promise to see make sure that us novices are always supervised from now on." He winced when he recognised the sarcasm in her voice. "You do not have to go all high and mighty on me. Besides, how often do I get to kiss your bruises better? Surprisingly enough her next act was to kiss him, smothering the retort she surely knew was on the tip of his tongue. To make sure that he understood that the topic was closed, her hand ventured lower to caress his member back into stiffness. "The Gods can't grant us children without our cooperation, Aegon." She whispered in his ear as she climbed on top of him, her hand still stroking his member.
  
  He moaned and for a moment forgot that they had been in the middle of an argument. Removing her hands he trusted upwards and entered her in one swift movement.
  
  She leaned over and whispered in his ear while rolling her hips. "And you ordered me once always to be honest and tell you when I felt wanton. I feel very wanton right now. Can you stroke me down there?"
  
  "I am pleased you are at least uh willing to follow that suggestion of uh mine." Jon moaned the words while she rode him. His fingers found her small nub and started circling it. "Very pleased actually." He would bring up the topic again some other time. Perhaps not with her. It might be more productive to talk to Ser Gerold and Ser Jorah and give them thorough instructions. All conscious thought left him when Dany leaned forward and kissed him speeding up her rhythm at the same time. For now he would make love to his wife and catch another wink of sleep if he was lucky. The coming day would be stressful enough.
  
  It only seemed a short moment had passed when Davos woke them up. "Your Grace, Lord Lannister just asked for an audience. A messenger arrived from Casterly Rock with news from the North and he requests to be allowed to stay neutral in the conflict with Lord Baratheon."
  
  "Neutral? The Lannisters? Whatever for?" Jon asked trying to get his bearings. He quickly covered Dany up upon noticing her leathers were still loose after their last coupling. "Give me a moment. I'll join you outside as soon as I am decent."
  
  Jon made didn't take the time to dress properly and hid his incomplete attire under a wide cloak when he stepped out of the tent. "Davos? What the hells is going on? Can you tell me more?"
  
  "I'm afraid not, my King. Only that he seemed angry about something. It felt as if he had trouble holding back and staying polite while he formulated his request to speak with you. Perhaps you should finish dressing first?"
  
  "Your Grace." Lord Kevan of House Lannister appeared before them and bowed. 'House Lannister formally requests to stay neutral. I want to discuss with my nephew what the Crown must do to restore our faith in it."
  
  "I beg your pardon?" Davos reacted not hiding the affront he felt. "If you are blaming King Aegon of something then I urge you to be clearer!"
  
  "My niece perished under the King's care." Lord Lannister accused Jon directly now. "I just received word that she took her own life."
  
  Jon frowned and looked at Davos. Davos shook his head and clarified. "We received word a moon back that she attempted to jump of a rock into the Bay of Ice but the guards got to her just in time. The King ordered House Mormont to double surveillance on her ever since. We have not heard of another attempt."
  
  Jon addressed Lord Lannister. "Are you willing to show me the message you received?"
  
  Lord Lannister took a step back. "You call me a liar?"
  
  "Of course not." Davos intervened. "The King merely meant that since we have not received any tidings, he would like to read the message, hoping that the message was poorly worded and she survived this alleged attempt. Will you at least reveal to us who wrote that message?"
  
  Lord Lannister hesitated. "We may have someone visiting Bear Island to keep us informed or our Cersei's circumstances?"
  
  "Then that man will surely have told you of the difficulties House Mormont has been having all this time to keep your sister fed and healthy. Perhaps he might even have mentioned that she cries out for her brother Jaime every night and proudly proclaims to all within her hearing how she should have murdered her husband when she was pregnant with her twin brother's first child." Davos stopped talking when Jon threw him a warning look.
  
  "Excuse my Hand, Lord Lannister. Your sister's antics have caused us many problems and it is not only my Hand that has been losing his patience. She managed to organise attempts to sabotage my reign more than once despite her imprisonment. Perhaps 'your man' might have helped her smuggle messages south and you are involuntarily complicit to these acts of treason?" Jon paused for a moment before continuing. "I should not have to justify myself but I will do it all the same because I highly value Lord Tyrion and have some affection for Lady Myrcella and Lord Tommen. So here goes. I, King Aegon the Sixth of my Name swear on the Old Gods and the New that I have not conspired in any way to bring harm to Lady Cersei of House Lannister while she resides under the protection of House Mormont." He exhaled and then continued in a normal voice as if defending his actions to a vassal was an everyday occurrence. "Couldn't it be possible that she ordered your spy to send you a fake message to have you withdraw your support and that she is in fact still very much alive and well?"
  
  Lord Lannister reached inside his doublet and pulled out a tiny scroll. Jon accepted it without uttering a word of than He read the few words it contained and handed it to Davos.
  
  "This doesn't help us much." Davos remarked as soon as he had studied it. "No date, no signature, no cause of death." He sighed.
  
  "Lord Lannister," Jon spoke firmly and both men turned their head away from the scroll to look at him. "May I remind you of all the favours that the Crown has bestowed on House Lannister since I ascended the Throne and even before that? Lord Tyrion as well as Cersei's children were allowed safe passage to Casterly Rock. Jaime Lannister's life was spared and his bastard children were legalised. House Lannister was neither stripped of lands nor power. Lord Tommen is recognised as the heir to the Rock. Lady Myrcella recently married into a ruling house and Lord Tyrion is a member of my small council. You are treated with respect and no one has been allowed to besmear the Lannister name despite your niece betraying her King and husband for almost two decades. Do you really believe that Lord Tyrion will be pleased with your decision to stand down and abandon the King you all owe so much at the first hurdle? And make no mistake. You need me more than I need you. I still have enough support to see this through should we need to do battle with Stannis Baratheon without the Lannister army. But what about you? What position will you have put your house in when word spreads that House Lannister refused to defend the Crown when asked? How many noble houses from the Westerlands will approach me with a petition to be granted the position of Lord Paramount, do you think? And how big are your chances that I would be a fool twice over and give House Lannister the benefit of the doubt once more as soon as you come to your senses and beg my forgiveness?"
  
  Ser Oswell and Ser Patreck who were on guard duty had trouble keeping the stoic look on their faces when Lord Kevan of House Lannister bowed his head in submission.
  
  "Are you telling me this report is false, your Grace?" Kevan Lannister uttered in a small voice.
  
  "I am not for I do not know." Jon replied evenly. "Does it really matter any which way? If your niece took her own life, does that diminish the loyalty you owe me for all I have done for your house? Do not forget that your niece was exiled under the reign of King Robert. Further investigation proved that during her time as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she had a hand in murdering innocent children and servants. But all that is irrelevant to our current issue. If the forces of House Lannister will not heed my call to battle when the parlay falls through, I will have no other choice but to consider your house in open rebellion and will have to act accordingly. Keeping in mind your outstanding reputation and considering our good rapport last night, I will grant you one last chance to reconsider. You have until the Queen and I return from our scouting mission to renew your pledge of fealty in front of witnesses. And now if you will excuse me, I need to dress properly and break my fast." Jon not waiting for a reaction turned his back to both Lord Lannister and his Hand and entered their tent where Dany sat with big eyes. It was clear she had overheard the entire altercation.
  
  "I'm sorry I didn't get to see his face," she whispered and Jon could have kissed her. On second thought, he did just that.
  
  Jon approached Rhaegal. He had helped Dany mount Viserion and they were both eager to take off. Jon was about to climb on Rhaegal's back when Ghost whined quietly. Jon connected with his wolf when he felt his unrest. He vaguely sensed Summer's presence inside his direwolf's mind. Ever since Bran had disappeared behind the Wall, they had not been able to exchange verbal messages by way of the direwolves' connection. This time it felt as if Bran was trying to relay a feeling to him instead. A shiver ran down his spine. Whatever it was, it didn't herald anything good. He tried to re-establish the connection but whatever he had felt was gone. 'Don't worry. I'll take every precaution.' He sent the thought to Ghost's mind but the wolf whined again and looked to Rhaegal. The dragon puffed. Jon could clearly hear Rhaegal's thoughts and passed them on to Ghost. 'Mighty Dragon protect Human. Wolf no worry. Dragon plus Human back quick.'
  
  Jon petted Ghost one last time and mounted Rhaegal. He waved at the guards who stood at a respectful distance and both dragons jumped in the air spreading their large wings. Compared to the first time that he had flown Rhaegal, Jon felt small on the much larger back of his dragon. Rhaegal was perhaps double the size that he had been then. The mighty wings moved effortless and soon they rose higher and Jon started to count the tents on the Baratheon side of the border. By that account, Stannis had not brought a very large army. His eyes wandered to the beach and the caves but as far as he could make out, there were only a few sentries posted over there. He flew west to check how large an army Lord Tarly had assembled to heed Stannis' call.
  
  Soon enough the green-red banners of the Huntsmen became visible. His guess was that it was a regiment of five thousand men strong give or take. He nodded at Dany and gestured to fly south east. The Dornish fleet was easy to spot. They had reported to him the exact number of ships so he did not linger there to perform a count. He turned inland and flew over the mountains that separated the Stormlands from Dorne. If there was an army present down there, it was well hidden. Dany was the one to signal where to look and once he had spotted the first few tents, it was easier to find the rest of the Dornish forces that posed as Stannis Baratheon's reserve army. Both dragons turned back and they flew along the coastline so they could count the ships in Euron Greyjoy's fleet and make an attempt to distinguish the Ironborn vessels from the ships of the Golden Company. If he got the exact numbers and study their position, they could optimize their strategy to corner Euron Greyjoy's forces. They would be coming at him from all sides, his army would advance from the North, the Dornish army and fleet would block the enemy's escape south, the Targaryen fleet and the Golden Company could block them from escaping east. The plan was to get Greyjoy to land most of his men on the beach where Jon could trap them easily unless Stannis Baratheon had hidden a large army in the caves. Such a thing could not be determined from the air.
  
  He was up to thirty nine Ironborn ships when he heard it for the first time. It was a high pitching noise that made his head ache. Rhaegal roared loudly and Jon felt both their heads clear when he and Rhaegal closed their minds off to block the sound. They were better prepared when the sound was repeated a bit later. Rhaegal and Jon instinctively blocked their minds again, their survival instinct kicking in instantly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Viserion failed to do the same. The dragon screeched in pain and his flying became erratic. Jon persuaded Rhaegal to open the connection to Viserion for a moment but an intense wave of pain made Rhaegal close it abruptly. Jon felt Rhaegal's eyes fill with blood and knew not to ask him to try that again. Sharing his mind with his brother had transferred some of Viserion's pain to Rhaegal. Jon had also experience for a short while the excruciating pain that Viserion was in. His heart hammered in his chest as he witnessed Dany holding on to Viserion's spikes for dear life. He grinded his teeth since he could only watch helplessly as Viserion lost altitude taking Dany with him. He screamed for them to try and glide northward but realised instantly that they couldn't understand him. He could not believe what was happening. The only thing left for him to do was monitor their progress praying and hoping that Viserion would find the strength to block the vile magic and still succeed in getting himself and Dany to safety. Rhaegal kept his altitude but his vision was impaired and even with their bond closed, Jon knew the green dragon was in a state of panic.
  
  The distance kept growing between both dragons, and he could no longer make out the commands Dany screamed at Viserion. And then his heart stopped when he saw Viserion just giving in. As if of his own volition, the silver white dragon soared gracefully toward the beach where the enemy was gathering in large numbers. At least a hundred men were there already and more were disembarking from small rowing boats. He was too high up to see more details and Rhaegal refused to descend. Jon merged their minds again and felt Rhaegal's conflict in leaving his brother and his human's mate behind. He felt the dragon's fear of the magic that had been pulling him in and his frustration for feeling vulnerable and most of all not being able to see more than a red haze. When the dangerous sound repeated a third and a fourth time Jon and Rhaegal needed all of their willpower to keep blocking out the sound and not let it lure them down as well. The small hope he had entertained that Viserion would burn every last one of the men on the beach that so obviously were the source of his torment had been squashed when Viserion gracefully landed and he observed only a small flame an a bit of smoke and then nothing.
  
  He felt Rhaegar's panic when his eyes literally started leaking blood and his eyesight got impaired to the point that he couldn't make out the direction he was flying in any longer. Jon needed all his mental strength to focus on their own predicament so they would not crash into the Narrow Sea. Somehow he succeeded in calming the dragon enough to listen to his instructions. Rhaegal only complied when Jon assured the dragon that he was guiding them both back to their camp where they would make it a priority to find a way to restore Rhaegal's eyesight. Every now and then Rhaegal roared loudly while they flew expressing his agony and frustration at leaving his brother and his human's mate behind. Jon sharing his feelings could do nothing to alleviate the dragon's acute feelings of loss since he felt exactly the same. Somehow he managed to keep Rhaegal on track, maintain their altitude as they flew slowly back to their camp.
  
  Jon had stopped looking over his shoulder. They had flown too far to still be able to distinguish Viseron's large silhouette on the ground. For now, he could do nothing but pray for some miracle, for Viserion to find a way to fight whatever magic was overriding his senses and causing him pain. He could only guess at what was happening on that cursed beach this very moment. In Rhaegar's current condition it would be reckless to urge the dragon to turn back and attempt to ignore the magic. He fought the urge to do so and supressed the images that popped up in his mind of burning down every last Ironborn on that beach to free Dany and Viserion. Even if every fibre of his being yearned to go back, he knew that returning over there with a partially blinded dragon and no other support would doom everyone. Besides, the feeling of terror and excruciating pain was still on the forefront of his mind and even if he could quell it enough and summon the courage to face the danger again, he could not put Rhaegal in harm's way until his dragon's eyesight had improved significantly. The only option that remained was regrouping and coming up with a genius plan.
  
  Jon couldn't stop his mind from dwelling on what could be happening on that cursed beach right now. Had Viserion really surrendered and did the fate of both Dany and the dragon truly rest into the hands of the fucking Ironborn? If that was the case, he prayed fervently that their vile enemy was well aware of the gigantic value of their hostages and that they would keep them both alive and please, please, please, also unharmed. As long as Dany and Viserion were alive and well, Jon still had several options.
  
  Rhaegal's eyesight was still blurry when they neared their own camp. Following his human's instructions, the dragon managed to touch down without hurting himself or his rider. Jon jumped off quickly and checked the dragon's eyes and ears. Rhaegal's eyes were still bloodshot and streaks of dried up red fluid marred the scales beneath his eyes. The holes that Jon knew to be his ears looked the same as ever. Jon leaned his head against his dragon and they shared their despair. 'Foul magic,' he cursed and felt Rhaegal's frustration rolling off his large body in powerful waves. This was probably the first time that the mighty dragon was forced to concede that he was not omnipotent.
  
  'We need to go back soon.' Jon sent the thought and felt Rhaegal's conflict. 'Not before I have a solid plan. First, we must come up with a way to counter that magic.' He conceded and the dragon let out a high pitched sound that Jon identified as mourning. 'They're not dead. They are too valuable. Our enemy needs them alive.' He reassured the dragon.
  
  It was difficult not to dwell on the predicament that Dany and Viserion were in at this very moment. But he shouldn't. The moment he let himself, images of a terrified and vulnerable Dany in the hands of a cruel Ironborn soldiers or worse her being a prisoner of Stannis Baratheon, a known fire worshipper would flood his mind and he would lose it. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't fall apart. Not now. Not here. Rhaegal would pick up on it and might lose it as well and who knows what havoc a dragon that lost his mind could wreck.
  
  Jon forced all these thoughts to the back of his mind and attempted to analyse the situation rationally as Sam would. His first idea was to urge Rhaegal to try and open the connection to his brother very gradually. The dragon feeling a bit safer on the beach near his cave eventually gave in. A bit later the mighty creature shook his head in frustration. Nothing happened. It was as if his sibling no longer existed.
  
  'The magic only closed his mind off to us.' Jon endeavoured to reassure Rhaegal. 'Viserion lives. We must remain calm and come up with a plan. I'll ask my fellow humans to help. Together we will find a way.' Spotting a small party on horseback that was speeding toward him preceded by a fast approaching direwolf, he leaned his head one last time against Rhaegal's head. 'Keep faith. I must confer with my council. I'll be back soon. We will fix this.' He raised his head and petted Rhaegal one last time, trying to stay calm for the dragon's sake. 'I'll be back soon.' He repeated and jogged towards the party who was still travelling at great speed. He knew they would be panicking as well. Only one dragon had come back. Everyone who had seen the green dragon return without the silver white one knew that something was very wrong.
  
  "They have Dany. They have Viserion." He was hugging Ghost and barely got the words out when he addressed Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold who had jumped off their horses even before they had halted completely.
  
  "How?" Ser Arthur asked, studying Jon with worried eyes to make sure he at least had returned unharmed.
  
  "Some kind of magic, trickery? I don't know. They made a sound that reached us high up in the air. It was a piercing sound that lured the dragons down. Rhaegal and I, we successfully blocked it out but Viserion," Jon faltered. He took a deep breath. "Viserion tried to fight it but they kept repeating the sound until he gave in. Rhaegal and I had to get away before it got to us too. It asked a lot of energy to keep blocking our minds. Rhaegal's eyes were affected by the pain, the magic perhaps? His vision was severely impaired but I believe it is already clearing up a bit. Last thing I saw, Viserion was close to landing on the beach where hundreds of Ironborn where waiting to capture both of them."
  
  "Didn't the dragon put up a fight? Why didn't he burn them all to ashes?" Ser Gerold's asked in a berating tone.
  
  "He was in pain. Before we had to sever the connection we could feel that he was in immense pain. I don't think Viserion could still think straight. I only experienced his pain for a fraction of a moment and it was unbearable. Rhaegal blocked it out and we only let it in shortly a second time to try and help him fight the magic and that resulted in Rhaegal getting partially blinded. Imagine Viserion's state. I, I... ," Jon faltered and covered his face with his hands to hide the tears that finally were escaping his eyes. "They have Dany. Oh Gods, how terrified she must be!"
  
  Davos had arrived in the meantime and had overheard his last words. He immediately went to Jon and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this, son. Whatever happened, I refuse to believe that all is lost."
  
  "So they have the Queen." Ser Gerold stated the obvious.
  
  Davos threw him a stern look. "They will know better than to hurt her. We shall just have to trade something for her. Let's head back first so we can calmly review our options in the war tent. We will need an entirely new strategy for the parlay. Come on, son." He guided Jon to the spot where the horses were waiting. Share a horse with me? I am not such a great rider. Perhaps you might be willing to hold the reigns?"
  
  Despite the dire situation they were in, Jon's expression softened and he wiped the tears from his face. Davos' words brought back memories of a time when they shared a horse before, when life was still peaceful and simple. He gave the man a quick hug to convey his gratitude before mounting the horse. It was time to fix this. 'I'll be back soon.' He sent the thought one more time to Rhaegal who lay listlessly on the sand. 'Get to the cave.' Jon made sure that he made it sound as a suggestion, not an order. 'I'll return soon and look for you there. ' It was only when he arrived at the camp that he realised that his cheeks were wet with tears once more. He bowed his head and wiped his face clean hoping nobody noticed. It was time to fix this. There was not a moment to lose.
  
  Interlude 49: A little honesty goes a long way
  
  Arya entered the backroom of the forge were Gendry sat staring idly at the crate where he had stashed the breast plates for the seven Kingsguards. She frowned when he didn't look up at her.
  
  "Hey, I could have killed you before you even noticed I was in the room, stupid!"
  
  Gendry turned around to face her and sighed. "Hey Princess, I didn't expect anyone. This is supposed to be my safe haven. Nobody comes in here."
  
  "That is not true. I do, all the time. When I missed you at breakfast and you weren't in the Godswood, I had no other option than to come here and get you. You have been avoiding me for days." She sat next to him and frowned when he just stared past her and didn't utter a sound. "I understand that you are still mad at Jon. Doesn't mean you have to take it out on me. I tried to persuade him that he was acting unfair towards you. So, don't act all stupid with me. I never did anything to you. If anything, I had your back. I will always have it no matter how dumb you act towards me if you would only let me. We are friends, Gendry. You don't get to avoid your friends when you are hurting."
  
  Gendry startled. What the hells had Jon told her? He had promised to leave his name out of it when he had 'the' talk with Arya. Had Arya mentioned his name to Jon by any chance while they were talking about her future? His so-called friend was only going to reassure Arya that she would never be forced to marry anyone against her will. Jon had promised Gendry he would do it before he left for the Stormlands so that conversation must have gone awfully wrong. He should have known better. Hells, Jon should have known better. Arya could be smart as hell if she found something interesting enough to give it her undivided attention. "What?" He blurted out and instantly felt foolish when he heard that single word escape his mouth as if he was the town's idiot. "Why would I be mad at Jon?" He finished lamely but at least a bit more coherent.
  
  "I would be really mad if I were in your stead. All his arguments for leaving me behind don't stick with you. You are old enough, stronger than almost anyone I know, deadly with your hammer and it is your future Kingdom he is trying to free from a mad tyrant. But still, Jon orders you to stay behind like a little girl. And instead of going anyway, you sit here moping all day not caring that I am dying of boredom without Ghost. Even Syrio Forel left with the army." Arya had been growing increasingly passionate as her explanation went on. "If I had been a man as big and strong as you, I would have ignored Jon and gone anyway. Why didn't you?"
  
  Gendry released a deep breath, relieved that she hadn't been referring to the discussion with Jon regarding her future when she mentioned being mad at Jon. It still hurt at times when he let his mind wander to her innocently phrased refusal to consider him as a possible husband when they had visited Wintertown together. He wasn't vying for a repeat of that. He still remembered every detail of that day and practically every cursed word of that conversation. He decided to be truthful. "Because I swore allegiance to my King and as a man of honour, I have to obey him. Jon, as my King gave me an order. I tried to change his mind, believe me. In the end we compromised. I only relented when he faithfully promised me that the main reason why he left me behind was because he needs me to play an important part in the Great War that will soon be fought in the North. He trusts me to oversee the preparations for that battle and has given me several additional important assignments."
  
  He took her hand when she rolled her eyes at his word. "Come on, Arya. I admit that I am still not happy about staying behind, but at least I understand why Jon needs me to. It took me some time to accept it, but I know Jon. He is no liar. He truly is of the opinion that I am needed here more for now. Can't you make an effort and have faith in Jon, your very best friend in the entire realm? I stayed behind for other reasons than you did, Princess."
  
  His blue eyes looked deeply into her large grey ones. He figured that was the best way to convince her of the honesty of his answer. "I'm dealing with the situation as an adult or at least I am trying to. Jon promised me faithfully that I will get to fight and that I will be given a position as one of his trusted commanders on the ground when it is time to go north and fight a much more dangerous enemy than this strange Lord Stannis of House Baratheon. I admit that I was mad at first. But I am mostly over that. There only remains a lingering feeling of disappointment." Gendry exhaled cursing the fact that Arya was the only one except for Davos who could get him to bare his soul like this. He didn't remember ever having made such a long speech to a living soul. On second thought, it might not be such a bad thing after all. If anyone could make him feel better about all this, it was her.
  
  And she didn't disappoint. She sat down added her right hand to the one he was holding so his large palm was now entrapped between both her small hands. He didn't resist when she turned it slightly so she could study his callused palm. "Jon would be foolish indeed to leave you behind when he goes north. If I were King, you would be the highest ranked general in my army."
  
  Gendry swallowed because she had started to caress his hand in a slow, gentle manner, which was very uncharacteristic for Arya and that small act stirred things inside of him he needed to hide from her. "Thanks Arya. It means a lot to hear you say that." He tried to pull his hand away but she instantly tightened her grip so he relented. At least she had stopped stroking him for now. "Arya, do you understand why Jon wanted you to stay behind? I mean after having had time to think about it, I trust you are no longer mad that you weren't allowed to go?"
  
  "Not really or perhaps I still am a bit but not as much? I don't know." She looked a little forlorn and shrugged her shoulders releasing his hand as she sought for words. "Jon was really nice about it actually. He faithfully promised that when I am a few years older and have proven myself a decent fighter, he will beg me to come with him. He also said that he needs to be sure that I am safe or he will be distracted if it comes to a fight. A distracted fighter is more likely to lose a fight. I know it were just words he used to persuade me when he said that in staying behind, I was helping him. But..."
  
  "But?" Gendry encouraged her to continue. His eyes did not leave her face as they studied the tiniest shift in her expression to catch everything she was not saying out loud.
  
  "Davos explained it a bit better and then I talked to Prince Oberyn whose daughters are all warriors. Bottom line, I am still too young and not strong or quick enough yet. Jon would be right to fear that I could get hurt, get killed even. I still need to learn a lot but I will get there. Even Prince Oberyn thinks so. You know how he hardly ever agrees to a spar. But then he did, spar I mean, with me!"
  
  Gendry smiled when her tone grew more animated. "That is quite an accomplishment, Princess. I didn't even know that the Prince was back in King's Landing. Well, tell me about it? Don't keep me in suspense. How was it?"
  
  "He floored me in two moves during our first bout. I've never been defeated that often in such a short session. He got his message across though. I'm clearly not ready yet to go to war."
  
  "I never picked you for such a magnanimous loser." Gendry stated.
  
  "I'm not usually. But the Prince Oberyn, he promised to fight me again in twelve moons. If I have improved significantly enough by then, he might even consider teaching me how to wield a longspear. In person, Gendry! Not simply by hiring a teacher."
  
  "Wow, you really impressed him. I will have to step up my training. If not, you might best me one day. That would hurt my ego and I might start avoiding you for real." He grinned to make sure that she knew he was teasing and was happy to see Arya grinning back at him.
  
  She hit his arm briefly. "Friends don't mine losing sparring sessions against each other! I am sure that we would be okay."
  
  "Yeah, we would be. Tell me, Princess, do I still rank second? Is Jon still your best friend despite leaving you behind?" Gendry probed.
  
  "Of course, silly! Friends can disagree and argue and still stay best friends. But only if they know the other honestly believes that he has the right of it and doesn't just say things to hurt his friend on purpose. That way they can keep respecting each other and Father says that that is what friendship really comes down to, mutual respect and looking out for each other."
  
  Gendry nodded wishing he could have her way with words. How often had his thoughts reached conclusions he had not been able to communicate and he had been obliged to let others take credit for his ideas when they eventually reached to same conclusion and contrary to him could find the rights words to present it.
  
  Arya studied him for a while before asking, "If you understand and respect Jon's reasons for leaving you behind, then why are you still sitting here alone, brooding when you could be out with us having fun?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or did Jon talk to you about other things. He didn't tell you to marry someone, did he? I mean, ordered you to as your King to whom you swore allegiance and whom your honour would compel you to obey? You are not force-betrothed to someone you don't like, are you? Gendry, please tell me if you are. I can speak to Jon on your behalf. I am sure that I can make him reconsider."
  
  "No!" He startled. When her eyes widened, he forced himself to add in a calmer manner. "I am not force-betrothed. Why do you even think that? Did Jon say anything to you?"
  
  "No," she admitted and he saw her cheeks turn red. "But I hear the rumours as well as anyone else, you know. Sansa denied it and said that they were false but still several people approached me to ask whether you and her, you know?"
  
  "No, call me stupid for real this time since I do not know." Gendry exhaled intent on playing dumb instead of maybe drawing the wrong conclusion for a second time since Arya had stepped into the forge and disturbed his solitary introspection.
  
  "Word is that you will marry Sansa soon. You can't though. Sansa doesn't want you as her husband and I know that you, uh that you don't want to marry her either."
  
  Gendry didn't let on that he had detected the uncertainty in her tone when she pronounced that last bit. He knew all too well how much she hated being vulnerable. He was quick to reassure her. "You're right about that." This time it was Gendry that enveloped her small hand between his and caressed it encouragingly as his eyes studied the contrast between his rough thick fingers and her smaller ones. He was not surprised when he found several callused spots, proof that she took her training seriously. "I am not marrying anyone anytime soon, Arya, most certainly not Sansa. I grant you that she is beautiful but I don't fancy her. I mean, for my wife, I would like a different kind of woman."
  
  "What do you mean by that? What is not good enough about my sister?" She withdrew her hand abruptly.
  
  Gendry smiled despite the delicate subject. When he looked up from her hand that was now balled into an adorable fist and risked a glance at her face, he noticed that she was frowning and actually looked insulted. That was so Arya. She didn't want Sansa to be forced to wed against her will, but she was also deeply loyal to her sister and nobody got to disparage her. "This is not about Sansa not being good enough." He paused. "Arya, this talk, everything we tell each other here, this stays between you and me, right? You won't tell Sansa, or Jon or anyone else for that matter?"
  
  Arya immediately raised her right hand. "I swear it. Now explain it me."
  
  He gently reached for her hand again and uncurled her fingers one by one. "Sansa is too perfect for me. I have not grown up in a castle. Some of the things Lords and Ladies find important, I uh well, I don't care about those things nor do I like them. I'd prefer my future wife to be more uh, I mean more like uh me, I guess? I don't care for pretty dresses or court protocol. I don't want a proper wife who sits by the fire and embroiders handkerchiefs while making polite small talk. I want a woman who will take long walks with me, accompany me on a hunt, join me when I travel to the other Kingdoms since I dream of exploring Westeros and even part of Essos when I have the chance. I need a woman who is not afraid of putting me in my place when I act stupid or doesn't complain that we do not spend enough time at the royal Court where she could attend balls and dance the night away."
  
  Arya looked down at their joined hands. "But you are a Lord. You are the heir to Storm's End. Won't you have to follow the rules and take care of Storm's End? Isn't that your role, just as Mother claimed that it was mine to put on a dress and consent to dance when a man asks me because I am now a Princess of the North?"
  
  "I am indeed the heir to Storm's End and I will need to learn how to run a keep, but the Gods willing, I won't have to become the actual Lord of Storm's End for at least twenty or thirty years. My uncle Renly is not that much older than me. I wish him a healthy life."
  
  Arya looked up at him now, captivating his eyes with that unwavering stare of hers that he was very familiar with. Gendry stared right back. He won their silent contest when she blinked first and averted her gaze. His eyes wandered to the boiled leathers she was wearing and her breeches that were sporting several stains of what appeared to be mud. He had already noticed that although Arya's braids were still fixed to her head, several strands of hair had sprung loose and it was not yet mid-morning. In fact that was the first thing that he had noticed when she had barged into this room earlier and it had endeared him and lightened his mood instantly.
  
  "Mother told me that I should consider marrying you one day." She offered, disturbing his musings.
  
  "Arya, I," Gendry stammered not sure how to respond to that but Arya cut him off.
  
  "Jon promised me that since he outranked her it would take only one word from him to overrule her wishes. I get to marry whom I want. He also told me that he had already made my father promise that they would allow me to decide for myself whether I want to marry or not."
  
  "And?" Gendry was curious now. There was something in her tone that hadn't been there at Wintertown.
  
  "Father warned me that life is not easy for unmarried women once they have reached a certain age. He told me that sometimes marriage is a good thing and can be very rewarding if you truly like the person you are sharing your life with, especially when you enjoy the same things. I kind of liked your description of what you seek in your future wife. I like you and I wouldn't mind seeing you every day and traveling with you and uh the other things you said." She turned her face away from him and Gendry realised that this was the very first time that he had ever seen Arya turn shy and act as a woman, kind of. It was endearing and he was tongue tied for a moment. Once again, Arya was the one to break the silence.
  
  "If I am being honest, I would probably be jealous if you married someone else and preferred her company over mine. But," she bit her bottom lip.
  
  "But?" His heart hammered in his throat. He kept himself very still. His arms itched to pull her closer and assure her that he would never look at another woman again if she would only give him a sign that she might consider accepting his suit in a distant future. The last thing he wanted to do now was scare her away. He really needed her to finish that sentence.
  
  Arya once again proved to him that she had more gumption than any girl he had ever met. She was not afraid to voice her feelings on such a delicate subject. "For now I'd very much wish for things to remain as they are. I really like having you as my friend as my special friend who likes me as I am and doesn't prefer the company of another lady who might want to kiss you all the time and be willing to marry you on the morrow if you asked. I realise that feeling this way is very selfish of me. Jon told me so already. But I can't tell you anything else today. I can't promise you anything more, not just yet. I might, perhaps uh, when..."
  
  "Hey Arya," Gendry tugged at her hand now, pulling her closer to him. For once she went willingly and leaned against him. He stroked her hair. "There's no need for either of us to think about marrying anybody anytime soon. Jon also promised me he would not force me to accept a betrothal, at least not for a few years yet. We both owe him big for that. Let others speculate all they want. Let them try and fail at getting us to adhere to their stupid rules of conduct. We might even make a game of it and enjoy their frustrated reactions." He pulled her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. "First of all, I've never asked anything else of you than to be my friend. Secondly, I have no intentions of asking anyone else to be my wife for now so there is no need for you to be jealous. We both have Jon's promise and can wait as long as we want to make a decision. I suggest that we wait a couple of years and then discuss this again."
  
  He saw her big eyes light up. "Promise? We get to stay best friends, keep doing lots of stuff together..." She bit her lip again. "What will happen if I don't change my mind and decide one day that I prefer to remain single for the rest of my life?"
  
  "Then eventually I will marry someone else before my hair turns grey and no lady will look at me twice ever again. But be forewarned, I will want you to stay my friend even if I go home and kiss my wife and make babies before I am too old to still be able to. If you decide not to marry me, I will force you to become like a cousin or a sister to me and an aunt to my future children." He let out a deep breath. "I have an idea. Let's make a pact."
  
  Arya wriggled herself free from his embrace and frowned. "What kind of pact? I won't be tricked into marrying you. Don't think for a moment that you can outsmart me. Besides, you would never succeed. Jon will always take my side."
  
  "And I will always have your back as well, Arya. I meant a pact to stay friends whatever happens in our lives and to always be honest with each other. I want us to tell the other all the important things in our lives. And if by any chance you change your mind and decide that you could stand to marry me or even if you happen to fall in love with someone else, I want you to be able to come to me and tell me this without being shy or afraid that I will not understand. And in turn, I promise to do the same and will always be there to help you achieve your goals."
  
  "This seems like a really big commitment." Arya remarked slowly after thinking it through for a while.
  
  Gendry nodded "It is. The way I see it, if we honour this, it will be an even stronger commitment than some spouses give each other. I intend for this to be a pact between equals. I will help and support you and you will help and support me whatever happens in our lives. Are you up for the challenge?"
  
  Arya looked at him. "May I think about it?"
  
  Gendry nodded. "Of course you may. You can talk to Jon about it as well. Do not mention it to your parents though. They would not understand and if they only knew part of it, they would insist that we'd be chaperoned at all times. Even worse, they could drag both of us to the Godswood kicking and screaming to say our vows the moment Jon is not close enough to stop them. I want to avoid involving them for as long as possible. I like spending time with you and I solemnly vow never to do anything that harms your reputation or goes against your wishes. I promise you that when, at some time in the distant future, I am not able to restrain myself from asking you formally to marry me any longer, I will respect whatever answer you give me. I made that very same promise to Jon."
  
  "You did? You actually talked to Jon about maybe marrying me some day?" Arya's voice sounded surprised and a bit flattered as well.
  
  Gendry nodded relieved that she had not been appalled and had not rejected him right here and now. His voice was thick when he confessed. "I did. It is how I envision our future. But this is the last time I will admit to it unless you give me a sign one day that our friendship has evolved and you want the same thing as I do. "
  
  "You really are a strange one." Arya remarked visibly affected by his words. "I never met a Lord quite like you."
  
  "Neither have I." Gendry managed a small smile now. "I used to resent most of the proud, idle noble Lords who visited the Street of Steel. At heart I am no noble, I am still a simple blacksmith who loves his trade. I'll make damned sure that at Storm's End, I will be allowed to work in the forge occasionally. I'll get Jon to sigh a royal decree if I can't convince Uncle Renly myself. So you see? I will need to find a wife who doesn't mind having a husband who is occasionally covered in soot."
  
  "But, but in Wintertown, we talked about your new life and you said you needed a Lady that would give you heirs."
  
  "And I still do, Arya. But I have plenty of time for that. Men can still make babies when they have celebrated their fortieth nameday. I am willing to give us time to make up our minds. And I won't force my future wife to give me more than one or two should that be her wish. The only thing I'd really like is for you to be their mother." Gendry swallowed. Then he tried to speak in a much lighter tone. "Anyway, if it turns out that you'll never change your mind and still want everything to stay the same as it is now, well then, I will eventually have to settle for someone else who doesn't mind marrying the poor excuse of a Lord that I am. A pity, because I can really see us work out." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Please, can we drop this topic for now? The only thing I need you to remember for now is your promise to remain my friend and be honest with me."
  
  Arya seemed to consider his plea for a moment. Then she looked at him hesitantly. "I have an idea about your pact proposal. What would you say about a trial period? Let's pretend that we have already sealed our pact and see if we can manage it for a few days."
  
  Gendry frowned trying to decipher her motives but ended up nodding despite himself. "Okay?"
  
  "You promise me honesty and support and I promise you the same." Arya emphasized just to be sure. "Should we shake hands are something?"
  
  "What, no vows before a heart tree?" Gendry teased for a moment but then grew serious again. He took both her hands in his and met her eyes. "I will always speak the truth whilst talking with you and I will respect your wishes. I will shield your back and will allow you to shield mine. I vow this by the Old Gods and the New."
  
  "As will I." Arya stood on her tiptoes and he leaned down a bit so she could kiss his cheek. Then she took a step back and her tone was resolute when she addressed him. "Now tell me and don't hold anything back. Why were you really sitting all alone in this building not doing anything except staring at some stupid boxes? I haven't seen you at breakfast or at any other meal these past few days. Aren't you supposed to look out for us? I could have run away two days ago and you wouldn't have noticed," she pouted. "If you needed cheering up, you should have joined us. I bet I can make you laugh quicker than anyone else."
  
  Gendry smiled despite himself.
  
  "See, won the bet already but I won't leave before I extract an even bigger smile. Are you mad at Jon despite what you told me earlier?"
  
  "I am not mad. As a matter of fact, I was just..."
  
  "Worried about, Jon? Me too." She interrupted him once more.
  
  "Not worried about him, well I am but I meant to say that I am more like worried about Shireen. Her mother is trapped in a potential war zone and her father, well he might be dead soon. It is all such a tangle. There is no chance that things will turn out without Shireen getting hurt in some way. I don't know how to face her. How can I comfort my little cousin without being a hypocrite? All I want is for Jon to kill her father. He burned my half-brother and might have burned Shireen as well if she didn't manage to escape the Stormlands with Thoros of Myr. I would be very disappointed if Stannis Baratheon was merely banished to the Wall. I don't know what I would do if I ran into him. But I know this. Shireen, my sweet cousin would hate me if I told her what I just confessed to you."
  
  "So, your big solution was not only to avoid Shireen but to stay away from us all? Why didn't you ask me to a picnic then? We could have gone without Shireen."
  
  "But then I would have felt even guiltier for ignoring her. She is my first cousin. Jon left her in my care." Gendry took her hand again. "Can't you understand my predicament? If only Davos were here. He would knock some sense into me and then drag me to Shireen. With his help, we would manage to comfort each other and both Shireen and I would be able to go back to being at ease in each other's company. Without Davos, I am sure to blurt out something I shouldn't and make her hate me. I do not want her to hate me."
  
  Arya studied him for a moment. "And you don't trust that I am capable enough to help you with this? Shireen is my friend. You are my friend as well. I am ideally placed to help you two talk to each other. But if you insist on having an older person present, I could ask my new Aunt Ashara or Uncle Benjen, but I don't think that he can spare the time. Jon asked Uncle Benjen to rule the Kingdoms in his stead."
  
  Gendry drew her hand in his lap and once again took it between his large hands. "Whatever we decide, I am awfully glad that you came to talk to me. I see now how stupid I was to try and solve everything by sitting here alone thinking in circles. I wish for you to seal our pact for real because I've come to realise that I need you much more than you'll ever need me."
  
  "You miss Jon, silly. If I miss him, I try to keep busy and do things I like." She thought for a bit. "I reckon most things I can come up with involve being around other people. But we'll take it slowly. Come take a walk with me in the Godswood? We will be without Ghost of course but I bet that we can still think of an excuse to play hide and seek."
  
  Gendry stood. "No better time than the present, I suppose. Give me time to put on my other boots. The ones I am wearing are not good enough for a High Lord to be seen in public. And I promised Jon to pay more attention to what I wear around other nobles.
  
  Arya stood by the door when he was ready to start their walk. "Lead the way, Princess. Do you want me to lend you my arm this time? A Lord needs to ask every time, even if he knows the Lady or Princess in this case, will decline." He made a bow and formally held out his arm.
  
  Arya curtsied much lower than necessary. "The esteemed Princess of the North politely declines so all courtesies are dispensed with. Come on! It won't stay dry all day."
  
  Gendry chuckled when he followed her out. The Gods be blessed for bringing Arya into his life. If it were up to him, he would make sure that they lived in the same neighbourhood in whatever capacity she chose. He would settle for staying friends with her and seeing her regularly like this if that was all she was willing to grant him. But he'd be damned if he would not try his hardest to make her change her mind about marrying him first though. He would find a way to court her, a way that Arya could appreciate. A thought struck him. Not only did he need to find a unique way to do that, he would also have to do it covertly. How long before Lady Ashara saw through his intentions and insisted that they be chaperoned at all times? Lady Shireen had not been allowed to venture out with her suitor without a proper escort. He shook his head. He was not a suitor. Not yet anyway. He was her friend and only a second best one at that.
  
  He hurried after Arya who had taken her favourite path to the Godswood and had disappeared from his view already. He got worried when he entered the Godswood and still hadn't caught up with her. He picked up his pace and was effectively running when he navigated a short turn to enter the path that led to the red oak. "Wait up for me, Princess! I thought you were supposed to keep me company?" He shouted when he saw something move between the trees.
  
  Sansa and Lady Roslin, walking arm in arm almost collided with him. "Arya is just around the bend." Sansa giggled and continued her conversation with Lady Roslin while she made her way out of the Godswood. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Arya seated on a blanket next to another Lady. This one was wearing a proper dress and her hair was neatly braided every strand still where it was supposed to be. She looked up at him and smiled shyly.
  
  "Come sit with us, Gendry." Arya of course was not in the least bit guilty for having led him into this trap. "No time like the present. Shireen just expressed the wish to talk with you."
  
  End notes:
  
  To make up for the cliff hanger in the main chapter, I will try my best to post the next chapter before next weekend.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Parlay or declaration of war
  Chapter 50: Parlay or declaration of war
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon meets Stannis under difficult circumstances. Euron is enjoying himself. In the interlude we follow an express messenger.
  
  Notes:
  
  Did my best to proofread but I am sure I will have left many mistakes in there. I apologize in advance and hope you can still enjoy the plot.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon entered the open space where the parlay was set to begin. They had reached the large tent just in time to escape the storm that had the soldiers standing around the perimeter soaked through in mere moments. He shivered involuntarily when his thoughts flew to those they had left behind at the treeline. His eyes scanned the tent that some Baratheon men were trying to seal off to keep out the harsh wind and rain after they had all entered. Apparently it had been the intention of Stannis Baratheon to hold the negotiations in an open tent but the storm that had swept inland faster than expected made his very impractical. Even now with the flaps all lowered, the noise of the rainstorm hitting the cloth would make it hard for the men to make themselves heard.
  
  Just when the handful of Baratheon soldiers had taken up position in all corners of the tent, there was a large clap of thunder. Jon kept himself stiff and did not react. He exchanged glances with Davos who flanked his right and Ser Gerold who had taken up position next to Davos. Then he turned to his left to nod at Ser Arthur before fixing a steady gaze upon the table behind which two men had already been seated when they were allowed entrance. Stannis Baratheon had politely risen to his feet but Euron had only done so after his ally had urged him to nonverbally at least twice.
  
  It was the first time that Jon encountered Lord Stannis of House Baratheon in person. He had heard many descriptions but now that he could see with his own eyes that Stannis Baratheon indeed had all the appearance of a stern, bitter man, he understood a bit better how men could prefer to follow a better looking if somewhat empty-headed Lord Renly instead of his older brother. There was some resemblance with Gendry. Stannis Baratheon was broad-shouldered, blue eyed and his hair at one time could have been as dark as Gendry's. Now it was streaked with grey. Unlike Gendry, the man had a tight face, hollow cheeks and thin pale lips. His heavy brows took away any charm that his blue eyes could lend him had they not stared coldly at the world. His chin was clean shaven and the Lord didn't move a muscle when Jon, Davos and the two Kingsguards that had been allowed to follow him to the location of the parlay had stopped before the three chairs that had been put there for them. The wooden chairs faced the table behind which Stannis and Euron now stood upright but they were positioned in such a way that both parties were twelve feet apart. Apart from the handful of Baratheon guards still present inside the large tent, Jon knew that the immediate area around the tent was guarded by a mix of at least twenty heavily armed Ironborn and Baratheon guards.
  
  Euron Greyjoy grinned smugly at Jon when their eyes met. Without his distinctive armour, Jon barely recognised the man that he had almost eviscerated moons ago when he decimated the Ironborn fleet at the Stony Shore. Jon had difficulty to remain calm while they all sized each other up. Euron Greyjoy's only eye shone with malice and he curled his lips in a deliberate smirk. His left eye was covered by a black patch. When he looked closer, he noticed that the Ironborn's lips had a blue tinge. He made a mental note to ask Davos if he knew what could cause such a thing. Euron Greyjoy was a little shorter than Stannis but it was obvious that the Ironborn was by far the more unpredictable and therefore the more dangerous opponent.
  
  "We meet again, dragonrider. Not so formidable now are you?" The tone of Euron's voice matched the arrogant smugness radiating from his entire person.
  
  Stannis threw his ally a cold look. Amazingly enough Euron demurred and kept silent although it didn't prevent his one eye from taunting Jon the entire time. Stannis Baratheon started the formal introductions. "I am King Stannis of House Baratheon the First of my Name and I heard that you are already familiar with my ally, Lord Euron of House Greyjoy, the ruler of the Iron Islands and admiral of the Iron Fleet."
  
  Jon signalled Davos to perform their part of the courtesies. Davos took a small step forward and his voice sounded as calm and courteous as if they were in the throne room of the Red Keep making new acquaintances. "May I present, King Aegon of House Targaryen the Sixth of his Name, Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur of his Kingsguard. I am Lord Davos of House Seaworth, Hand of his Grace. Your brother, Lord Renly of House Baratheon and the rest of our party were forced to stay behind."
  
  Stannis Baratheon gritted his teeth when Davos mentioned Jon's title even if Davos had kept it simple, only using the shortened version. Davos returned to his previous position between Ser Gerold and his King. The four men had opted to stay standing before the three chairs. No fourth chair had been offered and no request for them to sit down had been uttered as of yet. Both parties continued to gaze at each other. Euron Greyjoy kept trying to unnerve the young Targaryen by staring at him without pause, ignoring the presence of his entourage.
  
  The silence drew on as Jon and his three companions stood rigidly before the three empty chairs. Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold had drawn a bit nearer after Davos fell silent even if they all knew that both knights' presence was just a courtesy and the two White Cloaks could only offer moral support. As soon as their small delegation flying the white banners had emerged from the forest, a large group of Baratheon soldiers had forced them to a stop. Only Jon and his Hand had been told to dismount so they could approach the meeting place on foot. They had also had been ordered to leave their swords and daggers behind.
  
  A tense debate had ensued and in the end, Davos and two of the four Kingsguard had been allowed to accompany him if they agreed to leave their weapons behind. A highly insulted Lord Renly had almost botched things up when he insisted that his attendance was paramount. The Baratheon soldier in charge had stated that if one more objection was uttered, no one but the Targaryen usurper would be allowed to attend the parlay. Not wanting to be forced to leave his Hand and the two Kingsguard behind, Jon had silenced Renly Baratheon with a cold look. He had calmly addressed the spokesperson and stated that either he would attend the parlay accompanied by his Hand, Lord Seaworth and Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard or he would turn around right here and now. The only thing left for the Baratheon men would then be to explain to their Liege Lord why they returned empty handed and a vast army would attack at first light.
  
  And so, Jon had left Ser Oswell, Ser Rayford and a very dismayed Lord Renly of House Baratheon behind near the treeline guarding the horses and the famed swords. Jon had gritted his teeth when he had been given no other choice than to tie Ghost to a large tree and order his direwolf to comply for now and stay there for the entire duration of the parlay.
  
  "You came with an army and two dragons. You can't fault us for taking matters in our own hands and taking some precautions." Stannis opened the parlay. "All our actions during these last few days were necessary to ensure that we can discuss terms in a productive manner and make sure that we have your undivided attention."
  
  "I trust the Queen is unharmed?" Davos' calm voice managed to sound polite enough and Jon thanked the Gods for having the man by his side. Even if he and Davos had gotten into a bitter argument before coming here, there was no one he trusted as much as Davos. As if Davos sensed his thoughts, the older man moved an inch closer so their arms almost touched. Jon fought the urge to lean into him. They had discussed at length how to act during the parlay and had prepared for countless possibilities. One of their strategies was that Jon would let Davos speak for him as much as possible and most certainly when they discussed Daenerys's fate unless Stannis Baratheon ordered Jon to speak up in person. In that instance he would oblige his enemy since it would be perceieved as a sign of weakness if he refused.
  
  "Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen is my guest. Of course she is unharmed." Stannis Baratheon bristled. "I am a man of honour. As I said before, you forced my hand when you came here with a large army and two dragons."
  
  Jon noticed the cold look Baratheon threw Greyjoy and knew their speculations most likely were correct. It had not been Stannis' intention to take the Queen hostage. He had scanned the environment but had yet to see a sign of either Viserion or Dany. The dragon would probably be held in one of the caves on the Stormlands' side of the border near the beach. He hoped Dany might be sequestered nearby in a tent, safe from the elements and adequately fed. Last night he and his advisers had debated until deep into the night and Jon prayed that one of their strategies would pay off. They had done all they could to be prepared for every scenario. Several options had already been taken away from them when he had not only needed to leave Ghost but also two of his Kingsguard behind at the spot where they had been ordered to dismount. The fact that he had also been forced to leave Renly Baratheon behind didn't bother him at all. If anything, he was glad not to have to deal with another variable.
  
  They had debated the possibility that one of Stannis Baratheon's terms would be to surrender his brother to him on the spot. Now it looked like Lord Renly was of as little consequence to his brother as he was to Jon. Restraining Ghost on the soldiers' orders had been much more difficult. Jon was still haunted by the memory of Ghost's frustrated red eyes when he had asked silently not to resist while he tied him to the tree. Doing so had sabotaged one of their major strategies. Jon had counted on Ghost to sneak around the camp and if possible search the caves on the beach and not only look for Dany and Viserion but also for their anonymous ally who most probably was none other than the red priestess. If only Ghost had been willing to travel separately but after what had happened to Dany, Ghost had not allowed to let his human go off on his own. When Stannis Baratheon turned his attention to Jon to gauge his reaction, he answered the man's stare, refusing to blink or show any weakness.
  
  "We also had to take our precautions when we agreed to attend a parlay on your territory, Lord Baratheon." Jon saw the man narrow his eyes at the appellation. "You have your own army and the Iron Fleet here and if I am not mistaken, I scouted ships carrying the sigil of the Golden Company as well. To the West, a large army flying the banners of the Huntsman of House Tarly has gathered. House Tyrell swears that Lord Randyll of House Tarly has not heeded their call to arms so I can only surmise that he is a traitor and is here to support you."
  
  "He is not a traitor. Lord Randyll of House Tarly is one of the few bannermen of the Reach loyal to his True King. You are nothing but a Usurper." Stannis spit out that last word.
  
  "Insults will get us nowhere." Again Davos' calm voice tried to ease the animosity. "Let's get on with this parlay, shall we? First we would like to see proof that Queen Daenerys is alive and unharmed. Then we will listen to your terms."
  
  Stannis nodded to two guards and they disappeared. "We may as well start since it will take a while for them to return with Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen. You have my word that she will appear before long since I asked for her to be fetched the moment my men spotted your party approaching the border."
  
  Davos nodded. Jon just clenched his teeth and waited for Lord Baratheon to state his terms. He had never imagined he could feel so powerless and still manage to put on a show of strength. He was sure he would not have managed it if not for an unexpected development. It had been very fortuitous last night that their own scouts had brought them a message some time before the Stannis-Greyjoy ultimatum arrived. If not for that fact, Jon was sure he would not have been able to keep it together when they discussed their meagre options now that Dany's survival had become a major bargaining chip.
  
  As it was, he had still ripped the small scroll out of the Baratheon soldier's hands and had almost torn it in two in his haste to read its content. It had stated that Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen was a guest of King Stannis and that the parlay was still to take place on the morrow when sun would reach the zenith. Any endeavour to trespass on Stormland territory before the time of the parlay would be regarded as high treason for which the Princess would pay with her life. If not for the other message that had arrived beforehand, Jon would was certain that he would have lost it then and there, even if that meant that the commanders that were all present and in the midst of discussing their current predicament would have witnessed his weakness and all Jon's efforts to have them see a King instead of a green lovesick boy when they looked at him would be nullified.
  
  "The following are my terms." Stannis Baratheon spoke with authority. "The Seven Kingdoms will split into two dominions. Euron Greyjoy will rule the North, the Iron Islands and all the islands west of the mainland. You will all recognise me as the rightful heir of my brother, the late King Robert of House Baratheon. That pitiful abdication that he signed under threat on his deathbed will be declared null and void." Stannis now turned his head slightly to look at Jon to the exclusion of all others. "You will surrender the Iron Throne to me and I will execute you for treason. I will allow your kin and closest entourage to leave the Seven Kingdoms alive. They can conquer Essos for all I care. House Baratheon will rule everything south of the Neck. And of course, Princess Shireen will be returned to my care, unharmed."
  
  Jon exchanged a look with Davos indicating that his Hand could respond as planned.
  
  Davos took a small step forward. "There are several flaws with this declaration, my Lord. First of all, either you are a novice at politics or you are swindling your ally." Davos fixed his stare on the Ironborn when he continued. He could lower his voice substantially because the rain had lessened substantially and no longer made much noise when it hit the roof or their makeshift meeting room. "Last I heard your niece, Lady Yara of House Greyjoy rules over the Iron Islands and will not welcome her uncle on her dominion anytime soon. But more importantly, there is no way that Lord Greyjoy can declare himself King of the North. House Stark has ruled the North for thousands of years and all the houses in that Kingdom are fiercely loyal to the Starks. Even if that were not the case, not a single northern Lord would willingly kneel to an Ironborn. Next there is the fact that you offer us nothing so you already know that we cannot accept these terms. But then, if this is really a parlay and not a mummery of one, then these conditions are by no means final terms but merely an opening statement and we can start the negotiations in good order to reach a compromise."
  
  A commotion made the men look to their right. Two soldiers were removing a flap of the tent giving the men the opportunity to look outside. Dany stood twenty feet away flanked by two soaked through soldiers wearing the sigil of the stag engulfed in flames. Her hair was wet and clung to her forehead. When they removed the thick fur that they had used to keep her as dry as possible, he saw her shiver when the drizzle wet her skin. It also revealed her hands that were bound in front of her. He noticed that she still wore the same clothes even if they were dirty and her right sleeve was torn. Her braids were no longer pinned together but the fact that her hair was still partially braided helped him believe that they had not harmed her much. Perhaps Stannis Baratheon had not lied after all when he proclaimed to have some degree of honour left. He repressed a shudder when he saw the dirty cloth they had stuffed into her mouth to prevent her from speaking and moved his head slightly.
  
  "As you can see, the Princess is alive and unharmed." Euron's smug voice broke the silence. "My fair Lady, have you been violated by any of us?" He called out to her.
  
  As soon as Daenerys shook her head, Stannis gestured for his guards to cover her up again and take her away. "I am a man of my word." Was all he uttered after that dishonourable display.
  
  Jon had to use every ounce of self-control that he possessed not to run after her. The small acknowledgement that she had given him in response to his covert gesture helped him keep his face blank but he knew that he hadn't fooled his enemy completely. Even if he kept stiff and silent, they probably recognised the haunted look in his eyes that was the only outward sign of the rage that was warring with feelings of despair in his mind. Euron Greyjoy chose that moment to provoke him by pretending to wipe away a fake tear.
  
  Jon startled unexpectedly and touched Davos' hand who coughed two times to pass on the prearranged signal to end the negotiations.
  
  Stannis Baratheon had missed the small exchange because he had been busy glaring at Euron Greyjoy for taunting Jon. The cough however made him look at Davos and the self-proclaimed King rose to his feet. "You have it wrong, Lord Seaworth. I did offer you something, the safe return of a Princess of noble blood and a royal pardon for everyone except this Usurper. My terms are non-negotiable. I'll give you one day to consider my proposal." He made a show of looking the three men that had accompanied Jon in the eyes one by one to make sure that they all knew it was them he was addressing and not their so-called King. "If you do not bring this false King to me in chains by noon tomorrow, I will know how to act and will consider everyone this Targaryen pretender brought south with him a traitor to my Crown. Take note that at that point it will be too late for any of you to apply to me for mercy. We will capture as many of you and your army as we can alive. I intend to offer up the petty souls of all who deny me my birthright to the Lord of Light."
  
  Stannis Baratheon paused and circled around the table. He approached Jon until they were no more than three feet apart. A slight hand gesture from Jon to his Kingsguard ordered them not to react. Stannis Baratheon's cold gaze met Jon's. The Baratheon repeated his terms this time addressing Jon exclusively. "Your unconditional surrender, in exchange for the life of your Lady and all your subjects, boy. You have till noon tomorrow to give yourself up. You can save all of them or doom them. Either way, a member of House Targaryen will have been offered to R'hllor before the sun sets tomorrow evening."
  
  Jon needed all his strength not to move a muscle and keep silent. One of their strategies had been successfully put into motion and he needed to stick to the plan and play his part to avoid suspicion, no matter how difficult it was to keep up the pretense of indifference. Staring Stannis down with unconcealed loathing but not saying a word, he wondered whether Robert Baratheon would have recognised the brother he grew up with when confronted with this ice cold fanatic that burned people alive without the slightest feeling of remorse.
  
  Davos spoke up now. Although still calm, his Hand spoke up with more authority now. "This is no parlay. You might as well have simply declared war on the Seven Kingdoms. You have not let us voice our terms. Are you seriously considering making a martyr of the son of Prince Rhaegar? Do you really believe that in doing so you will not be giving all the noble houses the perfect excuse to rebel against you? As Prince Rhaegar's heir, he is beloved by many nobles and the smallfolk revere him. At the very least offer Aegon Targaryen the option of exile or the Wall."
  
  Euron who had slowly approached his ally took another step forward so he loomed over Davos but his head turned sideways to Jon. "By all means, boy, reject our terms. At noon tomorrow, it will be my pleasure to set the silver white dragon loose on you all but not before I order him to reduce your barren whore to ashes. And if you are so stupid as to send in the green dragon, we will enslave him as well." Euron Greyjoy relished the reaction on everyone's faces. Even Stannis had paled.
  
  At first Jon just stared at Euron and kept silent. When he was sure that he could speak up without a tremor in his voice he turned his head away from the Ironborn and confronted Stannis who had not moved away and still stood close by facing him. "How can you still claim to be a man of honour when you are allied with such a vile creature? How can you delude yourself into believing that anyone can still consider you honourable and fit to be crowned King when you have burned your own kin alive to appease and worship a foreign deity? Nobody respects a kinslayer."
  
  He took a deep breath and spoke loud and clear so every Baratheon and Ironborn soldier standing outside in the vicinity of the tent could overhear his next words. "Stannis Baratheon, if word reaches me that my Queen is harmed during her imprisonment, you and all those who stand with you will become familiar with the words of my House. Mark the threat that I will utter next for I will make good on it. I, King Aegon, the Sixth of my Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk, will personally come for you with Fire and Blood." He turned around and left without sparing another glance at either man.
  
  Davos and his Kingsguard fell into step. As soon as they reached their horses, Jon untied a soaking wet Ghost and put his head against the direwolf so they could help each other calm down and he could thank Ghost for sticking to the plan. Davos gave him a moment and exchanged a few whispered words with Ser Arthur. Next, Ser Rayford helped Jon mount his horse that Ser Oswell held at the ready. Jon complied without protest and only nodded to Davos to let him know he was aware of the message that Ser Rayford had slipped into his pocket. His guards looked tolerably well and mostly dry. Jon reckoned they had either found shelter before the storm hit or they had used the cloth of the small tent they had brought to shield their little group from the most violent part of the rainstorm. Recognizant of the supervision of the Baratheon soldiers, they kept their faces neutral and without exchanging another word they all quickly spurred their horses. With the direwolf leading the way, they soon disappeared from view and sped back to their side of the border. When they were at a safe distance Jon halted his horse and took out the message. Davos nodded encouragingly at him when Jon tucked it away again and as one they resumed their race to their camp.
  
  Jon was filled with purpose when he dismounted close to the spot where Rhaegal lay in the sand in the exact same position where he had left him. Only Ser Arthur and Davos had followed him out on the beach. The others had been given orders to head for the encampment. Since most of his commanders had been up all night perfecting the strategy for a surprise attack, Davos had let them spread the order to rest till dusk when they would gather again to hold one last meeting before they would launch their offensive.
  
  Jon used both hands to rub Rhaegal's scales beneath his right eye until the dragon opened it and acknowledged his human. Rhaegal blinked a few times and Jon studied the eye closely. The blood had receded for the most part. His dragon confirmed his findings sharing with his human that his eyesight was almost back to normal. He had no further news to share. Rhaegal had failed to communicate with Viserion all this time. The attempts were no longer painful but there was just no response. It was as if his brother no longer existed. Or at the very least, the link between them had been severed completely. Rhaegal was in a state of mourning. Jon needed several attempts to get through to him.
  
  He repeated two times that he had proof that Viserion was still alive and that the reason they could not feel him was because the enemy kept him shielded from them by magic. Jon and his armies would soon make an attempt to rescue Viserion as well as Daenerys. Jon just had to finalize his plans but he couldn't execute them without the support of a dragon. Jon pleaded with Rhaegal not to lose faith since he and his armies counted on the mighty dragon to help them. He repeated more than once that without Rhaegal's support, his brilliant plan was sure to fail.
  
  A bit later the three men left the beach and headed back to the camp. Davos led Jon inside the small tent that he had shared with Dany for only one night and handed him a cup of wine. The young King took the object before him automatically without registering what it was.
  
  "Thank the Gods that the priestess got a message to our party near the treeline." He repeated the words that had been circling around his mind while he had been racing back to his side of the border. His eyes were filled with hope when Davos nodded encouragingly. The unexpected ally, who had contacted them earlier and advised them not to give in but stall for time during the parlay, had indeed found a way to contact them again. Ghost had alerted his human the moment that had happened and Jon's cough had in turn informed Davos that they could end the simulacrum of a parlay.
  
  "While we were away, the others studied the drawing we received yesterday in more detail. Thoros held the small scroll in front of the fire and discovered a hidden message. It confirms the rumours. Euron Greyjoy has indeed found a magical horn, a dragonbinder in the ruins of Old Valyria. Even if for now they succeeded in detaining Viserion, the dragon is fighting the magic. If we can believe the content of this message, it has proven more difficult than they imagined getting Viserion to do their bidding. The good news is that Viserion is resisting. The bad news is that he doesn't look well."
  
  Jon stared at Davos' hands that held the drawing with a frustrated look in his eyes. "I wish Sam were here with his books. Isn't there anything in that message that actually helps us? What use is it to know how they did it if we do not know how to stop them from doing it again? Is there something else hidden on these scrolls, some secret code we have yet to detect and decipher? Why doesn't it contain a plan for rescuing Dany? Why doesn't it tell us how to safeguard Viserion from this magic?"
  
  Davos handed him the scroll again. "We can work with this, son. If we combine both messages, we know enough. For example, we know exactly where Greyjoy will stand at the ready with the horn tomorrow at noon and that until that time, he will keep it hidden deep inside a cave."
  
  Jon nodded slowly and studied the scroll again and took a deep breath. "You're right. This knowledge heightens our chances during a surprise attack. He will need time to fetch the horn from its hiding place. Rhaegal and I might get to him before he gets to the horn. Besides, Rhaegal and I know what we are up against now. I have faith that the both of us will be strong enough to block out the signal before it reaches our ears and minds."
  
  Davos nodded but looked worried all the same. "Thoros is not sure but suspects that destroying the horn will free an enslaved dragon. Except, the damned thing is made from the horn of a dragon and held together with bands of Valyrian steel. See?" His finger pointed at a certain part of the drawing. "They fear that nothing short of dragonfire might be enough to destroy it."
  
  "If only I had more proof that our secret ally truly can keep Dany safe as she claims until we can save her." He unrolled the tiny scroll again that had been smuggled into the hands of Ser Rayford while he patrolled the area where Ghost, the horses and the others had been ordered to stay behind during the parlay. "Davos, light another candle, if you will?" He all but ordered his Hand. Davos hurried to comply and both men watched with growing excitement as another sentence lit up. The words were written closely together in the upper left corner of the scroll. Jon adjusted his grip to be able to read the first two words.
  
  "Have faith." Jon read out loud. "The flames predict that the Queen will survive. Search for us with with red eyes when the night is darkest. Why in heavens' name did she hide that sentence?" Jon had trouble to stay calm and the words rushed out. "This is good news, isn't it? Bran and Lord Reed had the right of it. The Red Priestess is to be trusted. She truly had a change of heart. Varys also guessed correctly. Melisandre is still in the Stormlands, hiding in plain sight. If she is the one that is helping us, watching over Dany until we can get to her ..," Jon took a deep breath. "Davos, Melisandre is rumoured to be very powerful. Thoros told us that more than once. If she is with Dany, by the Old Gods, we will save her and bring them both of them to safety. I'll leave with Ghost immediately. I must search for her with red eyes. I need to warg."
  
  "Not yet, son. Safe your energy. Rest first. She specifically told you to do so when the night is darkest. At least do the same as we advised our forces. Assure that you are fit when the time is there to act. Rest until dusk."
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Gerold, who had stood guard before the entrance of the tent had been following the entire conversation. He now entered, demanding his King's attention. "Lord Seaworth is right. Leave it to us to make sure that your commanders will be ready to launch the attack at a moment's notice as soon as it is dark. Everything will be ready to proceed as planned. I sent the agreed upon signals to our allies already. Get some rest. You haven't slept since the Queen and Viserion got taken. Davos and I promise to wake you before dusk falls. You will have most of the night to scout the border with Ghost or warg into a night owl or something."
  
  Jon shook his head. "How can I sleep while Dany is their prisoner? And I still need to read some of the messages that have arrived. Or were you intending on keeping more news from me?"
  
  Davos at least had the decency to look guilty. "In my defense, I acted with the best intentions. You were distraught enough already and the news that I withheld from you had no influence on our strategy for the parlay. I needed you to keep it together."
  
  "And I kept it together despite learning about the death of my foster-grandmother and being mad at you on top of that. You should have more faith in me." Jon accused his Hand, remembering how betrayed he had felt to be treated like a child by his Hand just this morning.
  
  "And I will next time. This won't happen again, your Grace." Davos sounded contrite. "You have my word. You know that giving you my word is sacred to me. I'll never be disloyal to you. Son, I swear that you can still trust me."
  
  "Of course I still do trust you, Davos. I wouldn't have let you lead the negotiations if I didn't still trust you implicitly. I kind of understand why you did it. I'm sorry that I yelled at you this morning."
  
  "You're nerves are on edge, son. These are difficult times. You kept it together when it counted most. I'd rather you lost your composure with me than in the company of that drugged Ironborn and the deluded Baratheon."
  
  "Drugged?" Jon asked. "Wait, the blue lips?"
  
  Davos nodded. "Shade of the evening. A highly addictive substance. It is rumoured that one of its many side effects is bringing its user ecstasy by creating delusions but it is also said to enhance its user's violent tendencies by creating paranoia and at the same times numbing his conscience. And as you will have guessed, the potion's colour is blue hence the nasty colour of Greyjoy's lips.
  
  Davos handed him a plate that had been brought in by one of the King's squires. "Eat something, son and finish your wine. I promise to bore you to sleep with all the tedious details of the status reports I received from the capital." Davos was not in favour of spiking a young man's drink with a light sedative but his King had been up for almost two days straight and was perhaps half a day away from participating in a major battle. Forcing him to rest was for the greater good. He was relieved when Jon took up a piece of chicken and swallowed his first bite, be it with some difficulty.
  
  The previous day
  
  When she closed her eyes she could still feel the wind howling in her ears when Viserion had descended toward the beach. She became nauseous again when she remembered how tight she had needed to hold on in order not to fall off. Despite being in a state of shock, panic perhaps being the better term, she had succeeded in staying on the dragon's back. The only time she had been able to lift her head and search the skies for Aegon and Rhaegal, she had only seen a dark spot high up flying further away from her. She had still been processing what she had seen and had barely reacted when Viserion had landed and lowered himself sideways so she had been left no choice than to roll off and make sure she landed in such a way that she did not hurt herself overly much. She could barely grasp that she had been abandoned by Aegon let alone th situation she was in now. Rough hands had gripped her while she had been covering her ears that still hurt from Viserion's agonising screeches and the lingering memory of that high pitched sound that still kept echoing in her head when she recalled the first moments of her capture.
  
  She turned her head slowly from left to right and tried to discern more details of her temporary prison. It still was too dark to discover anything more than she already had. The only thing she knew was that she was in some sort of cave. Cave was perhaps too generous a word. It was a narrow corridor and they had dropped her at the end of it where it widened slightly before it ended altogether. She could not stand. If she sat on her knees and straightened her upper body, her braids almost touched the ceiling. Discouraged she sat down again. If not for the soft breeze that told her that at least fresh air could reach her, she would have been in a state of panic for being held in such a dark confined space while she heard the thunder boom outside. As things stood, she was proud that she still had her wits about her. She had come to the conclusion that she was extremely lucky that they had instantly recognized her for the high profile hostage that she was. She was certain that if that were not the case, she would already have been hurt, raped or killed outright by those vile Ironborn. Some of them had looked at her as if they were still considering it despite being explicitly ordered not to harm her.
  
  Luckily for her, the very moment that some Ironborn had grabbed her, Viserion had started to lash out to the men that were approaching him. And the cowards who had grabbed her had loosened their grip enough for some soldiers wearing the sigil of a crowned stag engulfed in flames to pull her to the side. A man who she figured to be Lord Stannis of House Baratheon or one of his commanders had ordered the soldiers to drag her away from the scene. As far as she knew, Viserion hadn't even noticed that she was being hauled off to this dark hole somewhere on the edge of the beach.
  
  She smacked her lips. She was thirsty. Her lips were chapped from wetting and biting them and she dried them with the remnants of her sleeve. Even though she had hardly put up any resistance, they had not been gentle and torn her outfit where they had gripped it at the collar and the soldier who had grabbed her right arm had succeeded in tearing of her right sleeve almost entirely.
  
  Daenerys sighed and wondered what they would do to Viserion. She did not need a bond with the dragon to realise that the mighty creature had been in excruciating pain. She remembered how Aegon had often told her of how the dragons considered themselves to be vastly superior to any living being and not just because of their sheer size, strength and fire breathing ability but because they were convinced that they were far smarter than the most intelligent human. It must have hurt like hell to Viserion to have his free will taken away like that.
  
  Because that was the only explanation for what had happened earlier. Both dragons had been affected by that piercing sound. There was no doubt in Dany's mind. Else, Aegon would never have abandoned her that fast. She could still hear him shouting at Rhaegal but the dragon had flown away and just like that all her chances of avoiding capture had left with them. Aegon had actually abandoned her. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears once more but she pushed them back. Tears would not help her. She had not been given anything to eat or drink and would have to be careful not to weaken herself further by spilling any kind of liquids voluntarily. Only the Gods knew what the enemy had in store for her. The Gods, could she truly believe that they had any influence here? They had made them believe they would have at least three descendants. How could you have grandchildren if you did not at least bear one healthy child? If Aegon didn't comply with their demands tomorrow, she had no doubt that they would make an example of her and would make her suffer one of the cruellest deaths they could think of. Vision or not, if she died, there would be no grandchildren. Suddenly the realisation struck her. Aegon could still have children with someone else. She tried to stop this train of thought. It would do her no good to speculate about possible ways for Aegon to still have descendants without her. It would only make her lose hope, lose her composure. It was important that she would not let the enemy detect any weakness in a member of House Targaryen.
  
  She woke up a bit later and brushed the dirt of the cheek that had rested on the ground. It amazed her that she had managed to fall asleep at all. Her next thought was of Aegon and she wondered what he was doing now. She had been here for so long already. She figured the night had come and gone by now. Her best guess was that it was early morning of the day the parlay had been set to take place at noon. Originally, that is. Perhaps Aegon would refuse to show up now or perhaps a parlay was no longer necessary and Stannis Baratheon had issued an ultimatum to surrender. She startled when she saw a flickering light.
  
  Two guards turned the corner and now stood in her line of sight. The first one was carrying a torch, the second one a pitcher and a piece of bread on a plate. She relaxed slightly. It did not look like they meant her any harm but she retreated until her back was firmly against the wall and watched them wearily. The one carrying the torch stayed back, the other one crouched down to be able to get a bit closer and put the items he had been carrying down in front of her.
  
  "Eat." He ordered. "We'll be back soon."
  
  "Back for what?" She found the courage to ask.
  
  "Back to fetch you. Your coward of a husband will want to receive proof that you are alive before he surrenders. Our King promised to burn him alive using the fire of his former dragon. Fire and blood." He all but spit the words and turned around.
  
  Dany looked at them. She would have bet that the one carrying the torch winked at her in a creepy manner. She shivered. Things were far worse than she had surmised. Still it would not do to faint when she was brought out to look upon Aegon's dear face for what might very well be the last time. She reached for the pitcher of water and was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was fresh and tasted all right. She tentatively took a bite of the lump of bread and almost moaned out loud. It was freshly baked. She finished it in no time. Even if her stomach still felt a bit queasy she swallowed the entire contents of the pitcher and felt a bit better. Perhaps Aegon had a plan. Perhaps the soldiers were only bluffing hoping to get her to break down in tears and beg for mercy. She forced herself to believe that her life would not end here, not today. As long as the both of them were still alive, she refused to give up hope.
  
  She swallowed and her resolve grew. It didn't have to end here for House Targaryen. She would just have to find the courage to do what she had to do. If it came to it, she needed to find a way to persuade Aegon to sacrifice her and bring the fight to Stannis Baratheon. Now that she considered that scenario, cold sweat broke out. There was no way that Aegon would just surrender and let the Seven Kingdoms suffer at the hands of a fanatic who burned people alive for the sake of saving one life. Even if her death would haunt him for the rest of his days, he would never forsake his people for the sake of his own happiness. That was one of the things she loved about him.
  
  Her nausea returned. This could very well be her last day. Either Aegon would not show up for the parlay signing her death sentence or he would and she would have to find a way to let him know that it was all right to give her up and do what was best for the Seven Kingdoms. She started shaking and had to swallow the food down that had risen to the back her throat. She blinked the tears away that had stubbornly reappeared again. She crossed her legs and closed her eyes. If ever there was a time to pray to the Gods it was now. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm the chaos and panic in her mind. "Please Gods, if you are on our side and really want to help us, now is the time. Let Aegon make the right choice and help him survive this day. Support him so he can defeat the Night King and save the living."
  
  She didn't know how long she sat in silence trying to come to terms with her fate when the two soldiers returned. She had done her best to remove all traces of her earlier despair from her face. This time the one that had carried the torch before grabbed her arm and helped her upright when she had successfully crawled out of the lower part of the cave. The other guard stood a bit further away with the torch and kept a close eye on her every move.
  
  "Do as I say and you may yet live." The one that had helped her out whispered but gave her a warning glance when she wanted to ask him what he meant. She pursed her lips and let them bind both her hands in front of her. She tried to keep up when they manhandled her to the exit of the caves. She squinted when she saw how high the sun was up when it appeared for a moment between two very dark clouds. It must be noon already. She didn't move when they draped a much too large coat over her shoulders to shield her body from the rain that was steadily pouring down on them. She obediently kept the same pace as her guards and soon they neared the rather large tent that had no doubt been erected to host the parlay. "Act submissive and only use gestures to reply. Don't speak a single word." He ordered her and she nodded her head, her mind focused on catching a glimpse of Aegon.
  
  The other guard however intervened at that time and unceremoniously stuffed a dirty cloth in her mouth. Daenerys gagged against it a few times but eventually got her body under control. To her immense regret they stopped twenty feet away from the open tent. From that distance, she could observe Aegon standing there flanked by Davos, Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold. She was somewhat relieved and was proud when she noticed how stiff and unyielding he looked. He didn't have the appearance of a man on the verge of surrendering the Seven Kingdoms. She held her breath when she saw him startle the moment that he noticed her and she was proud of how he kept himself together and refused to show weakness.
  
  Not averting her eyes - for the Gods knew if they would ever get another chance to see each other again - she suddenly saw it. To anyone else nothing of significance had occurred but to her that slight movement of his head had made all the difference. She had instantly recognised it. Even if it was faint, it was a compact version of one of the gestures they had come up with to communicate with each other when they were high up in the air and the wind or the distance made verbal communication difficult or even impossible. If she was not mistaken, and her heart told her she was not, Aegon had just made the sign he always made when it was time to end their flying session and return home. Furthermore, he still emanated authority as he stood there. And she felt it more than ever. He had not lost all hope. He had a plan in place. She tried to be as circumspect as he had been when she made the small gesture to acknowledge that she had understood his gesture and had added the sign that indicated that she was okay. She hoped he had intercepted her response because he did not let on any which way. She kept scrutinising him before they dragged her away but could detect no further message. If he had given her another sign, then she had missed it. She ignored the taunts of the guard that dragged her away and did not resist when they led her back to that same small dark cave. Her heart however hammered loudly in her chest. There was still hope. One small tilt of his beloved head had made all the difference. She would do all she could to stay alive. Aegon was going to find a way to get her out of here.
  
  Night fell over the camp and large bonfires were lit on both sides of the border. The Ironborn were celebrating loudly. Some were seen dragging females into the woods that separated the encampment from the beach. Stannis Baratheon sat close to the fire ignoring the debauchery that went on around him by gazing stubbornly into the flames. Euron Greyjoy approached and sat down next to him.
  
  "I need no flames to tell me that we will enjoy ourselves annihilating that green boy's army. I told you he was nothing more than a young fool infatuated with his silver haired Princess. Did you notice the utter desperation in his eyes?" When Stannis Baratheon kept staring into the flames he taunted him some more. "What? Is your precious Lord of Light not talking to you? Have you fallen out of favour?" When Stannis Baratheon did not deign to acknowledge these taunts either, the Ironborn kicked it up a notch. "And pray, where is that famed, sensual red Priestess of yours? Has she forsaken you? Is that the reason that you are so stiff and grim at the eve of your greatest victory ever? Do you miss her spreading her legs for you and are you sporting some serious blue balls?" When Stannis shook his head and his expression darkened even further, Euron Greyjoy added. "Don't tell me that this is the only way you know how to behave? Perhaps I have chosen the wrong ally after all. You're not the least bit fun to be around."
  
  "Don't antagonise me. You know all too well that such lewd talk offends me. And do not pretend that everything is going as planned. We have no cause for celebrating. Things are not going well at all. You promised to capture two dragons one for you and one for me. What if the green dragon burns us all tomorrow?"
  
  "Well to be fair, I did capture two dragons: one dragon lady and one actual flying beast. Don't be so impatient. I will enslave the green one tomorrow."
  
  "How can you be so certain? You'll have your hands full keeping the white one in line."
  
  "And here I thought I had proven myself today. But if you persist in doubting me and you want to play it safe, then by all means, let me make you an offer. I'll hand you control of the white dragon right here and now if you in return give me the silver white Princess to do with as I please."
  
  "You are a stupid fool who will let his cock be his downfall. We need the Princess to keep the Usurper in check. Surely you noticed that the only time we got some reaction from the Targaryen boy was when we brought out his dear wife. The rest of the time he barely said a word. What I want to know from you is how you will get the white dragon to obey me? It seems he barely listens to you."
  
  "Come now, Stannis. You must have eyes in that gloomy head of yours. Do you really refuse to have faith in me after all I accomplished these last few days? I proved that I can enslave a dragon. Did you not see that mighty beast wriggle his large body until he disappeared inside that cave? The wizard assured me that once he succumbs to the magic, his mind will be empty and he will be reduced to a tool, a weapon for us to use. Rest assured, tomorrow at noon, I will enslave the other one before he burns our men. I know what to expect this time. I am willing to bet my cock that before yesterday, you did not believe any of this was possible."
  
  When Stannis kept staring daggers at his overconfident ally, Euron Greyjoy waved his hand and said in an appeasing tone. "The dragons are enslaved by blood magic. You only need a man to blow the horn with your blood smeared to the mouth piece while you focus your eyes and mind on the dragon you wish to enslave. As easy as that."
  
  "Four slaves died before the dragon even listened to your command to descend. Then, another hornblower perished to get the creature to walk into the cave. Taking into account the five men he burned the moment he landed, you sacrificed ten men merely to lock a dragon in a cave. I don't consider that as being easy at all." Stannis grumbled.
  
  "Their sacrifice was not in vain. That is more than you can claim with all the poor sods you burn alive to satisfy your Lord of Light. I have yet to see any result of that."
  
  "And you won't. That's my business. If you want to gain my trust, then explain to me how you will make that white dragon reign fire on their soldiers and make sure that they spare ours?" Stannis was quick to return to his original topic.
  
  "I'm working on it. My wizard has a new theory and we have all the ingredients on hand. I haven't let you down so far, King Stannis the First of your Name." The sarcasm dripped from Euron Greyjoy's voice when he uttered the title that his ally insisted was rightfully his. "Do not forget that the only reason that you had the upper hand at the parlay today was because of my results. Without me capturing his silver haired whore and one of his precious dragons, the Usurper would have waltzed all over you today. Never mind all the armies you have standing by. You can't deny that I, Euron Greyjoy the future ruler of the North and all islands west of Westeros including the ones still to be discovered, delivered my end of the bargain."
  
  "I will refrain from voicing my opinion on that till tomorrow, late afternoon. Speaking of tomorrow, it is late and I'm going to try and get some rest. I would appreciated it if you could see to it that your men tone it down a bit or do their uh celebrating as far from my tent as possible." Stannis slowly rose to his feet and two of his guards accompanied him to his tent.
  
  Euron watched the wannabe King disappear behind a row of neatly lined Baratheon tents. Images of the tiny silver haired princess they had captured entered his mind. From the first moment he had seen her he had decided he would claim her as his salt wife. He had paid the iron price for her, had he not? He jumped to his feet and strode to the cave where she was being kept under guard. He motioned some of his men to follow him. Before his talk with Stannis, he had already sent another one to fetch the wizard and the horn he kept safely hidden when it was not needed. He would enjoy the company of the dragon whore tonight. Stannis need never know. And if he happened to find out, well, Euron needed to get rid of the man at some point anyway. There could only be one King of Westeros after all.
  
  "My King! My King?" A servant entered the tent where Stannis Baratheon was praying to the Lord of Light before trying to get some rest before dawn.
  
  Stannis had known sleep would not come easy. Doubts and dark thoughts circled in his mind. Tomorrow his fate would be decided and he was not as confident as he had been days before. If the Targaryen Usurper decided to sacrifice the life of his wife then it would be a bloody battle. Perhaps even another dance of dragons. His scouts had brought him a rough estimate of the number of soldiers the Targaryen boy had brought south. Stannis knew his own forces still outnumbered them but not by much. The Golden Company had showed up with only half their force claiming the rest was still honouring a previous contract. Luckily Lord Tarly had heeded his call and brought a large force of well-trained men.
  
  It had been a stroke of genius to promise the man the Lord Paramount position over the Reach. It would work out well for the future of that prosperous Kingdom. The Tyrells were a weak house ruled by an old woman. Lord Tarly was a man after Stannis' own heart, a seasoned commander who ruled with strict discipline and honourable principles. He would need Tarly's support because everyone had heard of the prowess of the young King with a sword and the high standards the Lord Commander had upheld when recruiting new guards for the royal family. If Ser Arthur fought on the frontlines and faced five Ironborn on his own, Stannis was realistic enough to realise that odds were still in favour of the famed Sword of the Morning. Numbers did not define all, quality and discipline did.
  
  But even if all went well and Stannis' forces won the day, he still had a tricky situation on his hands. Be it an easy surrender or a bloody battle, afterwards, there would still be Euron Greyjoy to contend with. Best case scenario, they enslaved the second dragon tomorrow but then what? There was only one horn. Greyjoy had promised him that once the dragon had a master, the horn was no longer necessary. Stannis was not so sure. Besides he would be a fool to take an Ironborn's word without proof. Not only that, he had witnessed the frustration in Euron's eyes when it took four blasts to get the dragon to land on the beach and then another to tell him to stop throwing a fit and burn everything in sight. He shuddered when he remembered the poor strange looking slaves that had been forced to sound the horn. All of these captured slaves had perished within moments. The one with the light hair and purple eyes had taken longer to succumb but in the end had died a very painful death.
  
  He cursed under his breath when he heard the interruption. "What reason in the Seven Hells could you possibly have to justify disturbing my much needed rest?" He hurled the words at the soldier that had dared enter his tent.
  
  The man paled but stood his ground. "It is Lord Greyjoy, your Grace. He has taken the Targaryen Princess out on the beach and was about to send for the dragon as well."
  
  "Curse the man to the Seven Hells." Stannis jumped to his feet. "Bring my horse and assemble my men. At least enough of them so we outnumber the Ironborn the coward will have with him. Hurry!" He shouted while he fastened his swordbelt.
  
  A bit earlier on the beach.
  
  Two Ironborn forced her to her knees on the sand of the beach that to her amazement was no longer wet. The strong wind that blew land inwards had already dried the upper layer of the fine white sand. There were still puddles of water visible here and there but the men had successfully lit a bonfire on a dry spot. She had startled when she recognised one of the Ironborn soldiers as the same man that earlier had been dressed as a Baratheon soldier. She was absolutely sure since it had been the very one that had winked at her, helped her out of the cave and then had uttered those ambiguous words 'you may yet live'. Once again his eyes had warned her to keep silent when he tied her hands. This time however they were tied behind her. Before they had dragged her out of the cave, they had also gagged her. The light of the large bonfire allowed her to count the Ironborn that were present. She could make out ten Ironborn if she included the two that flanked her. If not for the light of the fire, it was pitch dark outside. Clouds covered the faint light of the moon. She guessed that it was still rather early, still a while to go until midnight.
  
  "My dearest future salt wife, I am glad that you have agreed to keep me company so that we can get to know each other better. You are wearing too much clothes however. It is not that cold here in the south and the fire is providing enough heat, wouldn't you say so?"
  
  Daenerys shook her head and made an effort to provide a rebellious sound.
  
  "You are a wild one. That is the way we Ironborn like our females best. Nothing get is up better than a good struggle that us men always win. Continue this way and we will have a fruitful relationship. You might get something out of it as well. That Targaryen Greenlander was nothing but a small boy who could not make your belly swell. It is only right we took you from him. Once you get acquainted with a real man, you will beg me to take you, again and again and I'll put a bastard in that flat belly of yours in no time. Being pregnant might grow you some real tits as well." Euron motioned to the soldier that she suspected to be a Baratheon in disguise and the man started to undress her slowly. He took his time making a show of untying her hands only to bind them again the moment he had removed her doublet. Euron Greyjoy licked his lipped as he watched on as the other guard dragged her to her feet when the first guard struggled to remove her breeches. Greyjoy laughed when Daenerys kicked the soldiers shin when the man succeeded in exposing one of her legs.
  
  "Be careful with her." He warned the guard that was about to retaliate. "If I see as much as a single scratch on that beautiful pale flesh that is not of my own making..." He slowly got to his feet and approached her. "On second thought, I prefer to finish this myself." He gestured for the men to step aside.
  
  Dany stood tall and refused to give in to the fear that threatened to overpower her. The men that sat around the fire laughed at her defiance and shouted to Euron to given them a good show. Greyjoy's smug smile widened. "Your coward of a boy-husband ran with his tail between his legs after a parlay that lasted shorter than it takes me to flood a whore's womb with my potent seed. In fact all the Greenlanders sped away on their horses as if the Drowned God had damned their souls. They won't be coming to rescue you anytime soon, Princess."
  
  She shivered from disgust when Euron filthy hands grabbed her waist and turned her head away when he leaned in to kiss her.
  
  He slapped her face. "Keep it up dragonwhore and I will only enjoy it more and take extra time to take you in every way I can think of."
  
  Dany cringed at the foul smell of his breath that wafted her way when he almost breathed the words on her face. Luckily he took a step back when a loud commanding voice rang over the beach.
  
  "What is the meaning of this! Cover the Princess at once!" Stannis Baratheon shouted with a thunderous expression. He sat astride his horse taking in the half naked body of the Targaryen Princess. He ignored the stirrings in his loin and looked in contempt at all the men who were enjoying the sight of the partially naked female hostage.
  
  Euron made a hand gesture and some of his men disappeared in the shadows. One of the guards that had undressed her covered her with his cloak. She saw Stannis Baratheon stare at the man but since no further order was forthcoming, the guard remained close to her.
  
  Euron slowly his back to her and faced King Stannis. "I merely wanted to enjoy this night with the Targaryen whore. Who knows what tomorrow might bring? That honourable besotted fool might decide to exchange his life for hers. After all, he was raised by House Stark."
  
  "I assured them of my honour and implied the girl would stay unharmed. Will you besmear my honour?" Stannis still atop his horse and looked down at his ally with contempt.
  
  "What harm will it do to let me fuck her? She's not an innocent girl but a wife. Her maidenhead has long been broken by that sorry excuse for a husband that can't sire a child. I was doing her a favour actually. She might even enjoy it and bear a strong son if she is lucky."
  
  "I forbid it!" Stannis' voice ran out over the beach and the soldiers were all eying each other with wary eyes.
  
  "And what if I do not obey? I promised you a dragon. Well choose here and now. The silver white dragonwhore or the silver white flying beast." Dany saw Euron grin when the men he sent away returned with a few Essosi slaves and a large horn.
  
  "Are you seriously forcing my hand?" Stannis' was red in the face.
  
  Dany noticed the Baratheon men now had a fearful look on their faces while the Ironborn looked confident. She could breathe more freely now that Euron Greyjoy had retreated a few more paces and was no longer within touching distance. She let out another long breath when the Ironborn strode further away from her towards the prisoners and the horn. She watched mesmerized how he cut his arm and smeared a generous amount of blood on the narrow end of the horn. Then he used that same knife to threaten one of the prisoners.
  
  "Blow the horn or I'll geld you here and now."
  
  The man complied and Dany recognised the sound that she had heard several times the morning she and Viserion had been taken captive. She watched Euron focus on the entrance of a large cave.
  
  "Come to your Master." He repeated several times.
  
  All the men stepped away from Euron Greyjoy when Viserion appeared and walked toward the Ironborn. Stannis Baratheon held on to the reins on his horse and did his best to keep it steady.
  
  "Do I still hear your weak-hearted commands, Baratheon." Greyjoy taunted the King. "Better come off your high horse." He chuckled at his choice of words.
  
  "We are allies. Let us talk this through before you go any further." Stannis looked pale now. "My men still outnumber yours. I hired the Golden Company. The contract is under my name. One signal from me and your ships are trapped. You have nowhere to flee to. The Dornish down south and the Tarly forces to the West are also under my command."
  
  "Who will these men obey when you are reduced to ashes?" Greyjoy taunted and took a step toward Stannis Baratheon. Dany tried to catch Viserion's eyes. Even though they were bloodshot, and the flickering see saw in them might be caused by the dancing light of the bonfire, she could have sworn that she saw recognition shine through the pain in his eyes.
  
  Stannis Baratheon's voice rang loud over the beach. "My men are loyal."
  
  Euron smirked. "If they have only the tiniest bit of common sense, they will choose the side of the one who controls the dragon or better dragons come tomorrow."
  
  Dany watched the Baratheon men look at each other and avoid their King's gaze.
  
  "Enough." Stannis bluffed. "Send the dragon back to the cave and the Targaryen woman as well. We will renegotiate terms in my tent, you and I, no other witnesses."
  
  "I prefer to discuss them here on the beach. You might want to witness the testing of a new theory."
  
  "Let her get dressed again and I will oblige you." Stannis ground his teeth when he conceded and dismounted.
  
  Euron nodded to the guard who quickly handed Dany her breeches. Dany with her hands bound had to let the guard assist her and despite his assistance almost lost her equilibrium twice. The men sniggered but Euron barked an order and soon Daenerys was decent again. Euron and Stannis sat down some twenty feet away from her.
  
  "What is this experiment about?" Stannis' gruff voice rang loud into the night. The Baratheon had not let Viserion who had not moved another inch out of his sight.
  
  "Normally, the dragon should have been enslaved with one blast of this magic horn. You might have seen that I brought slaves from Essos with me that have the Valyrian look. The wizard warned me that only those with Valyrian blood could fully control a dragon."
  
  "But you smeared your blood on the horn?" Stannis frowned. "The slaves only blow it."
  
  "That is because the horn is cursed when it is blown by an unworthy. Only those of pure Valyrian blood are worthy. We have a specimen here with us though. The blood on the mouth piece is the blood that binds with the dragon. The bond is not ideal since I have no known kin that hails from Old Valyria."
  
  "You are stupid, Euron. If your great idea is to make the Princess blow on the horn, you risk the dragon bonding with her instead of one of us. And if that happens, our cause will be lost."
  
  "Not as long as that pathetic, tiny excuse of a female is in our custody." Euron countered. "That is my back up plan. I know exactly how little pain such a thin young female can withstand. It won't take me long to break her spirit and have her do exactly as I tell her. Besides, I had intended to use your blood to smear the horn before I allow her blow on it."
  
  "No, I forbid it. The risk is too great. It is just a theory that it will work. What if she doesn't survive this so-called test of yours. We need her alive for at least a day longer. I'll take the prisoner back to my tent to make sure that she survives the night. I made my choice, Euron. You can have the white dragon. I'll take the green one tomorrow."
  
  "Wrong choice." Euron muttered and knocked 'King' Stannis out with one blow to his head. "Take your King back to his tent. He drank too much." Euron Grejoy acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary as he coldly ordered the Baratheon soldiers to take their unconscious King's body with them and leave him alone with the hostage.
  
  The soldiers, not daring to argue with Euron Greyjoy when he had a dragon in the vicinity, quickly carried their King to his tent. They were all relieved that they were allowed to put a safe distance between them and that large fire breathing monster. Now only the Ironborn and Dany remained on the beach.
  
  Viserion chose that moment to take a step toward the bonfire and startle the men. The dragon shook his head wildly from left to right. Euron and the Ironborn were forced to retreat in order not to get hit by the dragon's large head. Euron motioned to one of the two men that were guarding Dany to pick up the horn. Dany startled when she felt the other guard tug on her bindings under the cloak that he had draped over her shoulders once they had finished putting on her breeches and doublet again. Fearing that the strange acting guard was going to take advantage of the situation now that the others were all focusing on Viserion to feel her up, she tried to hurt the guard by clumsily moving her hands bound hands up and down. Her weak attempts resulted in the guard leaning over her and whisper in her ear. "I'm a friend. Keep still."
  
  Dany felt the rope around her wrists loosen. Hope rose up in her chest when she gripped the handle of the small dagger that she was handed behind her back. As soon as her mouth was freed she whispered. "How many men has my husband sent?"
  
  "None, Queen Daenerys. I act alone."
  
  Dany's face fell. The two of them against a beach filled with vicious Ironborn. She looked around and took a few steps backwards. At once Euron Greyjoy's and Viserion's eyes turned to her.
  
  Viserion took a step toward Dany and let out a mighty roar.
  
  "Hand me the horn." Euron yelled, "And by fear of the Storm God, get her to kneel again. One more slip up and you can have your turn blowing the magic horn."
  
  "Viserion, Dracarys!" Dany shouted.
  
  Viserion took a step in her direction and opened his mouth.
  
  "For Aegon and Rhaegal." She shouted before the guard put his hand on her mouth. "For appearance's sake." He whispered in her ear.
  
  Viserion turned around and burned the slaves that were meant to blow the horn.
  
  "Your master commands you to stop." Euron yelled and Viserion started shaking wildly with his head. Euron quickly smeared his blood on the horn and dragged it with him when he approached Dany. "A pity that things will end this way but I believe that my dragon wants to burn you, your royal Highness. You are not my type anyway. I prefer my salt wives to have a little more flesh on their bones." He gestured the guard who had helped her to step aside to take the horn. "Dragon, your master commands you, burn her but leave part of her body for me. I need her blood." Viserion shook his head wildly.
  
  Dany looked into Viserion's eyes and saw the Dragon struggle with the command. "Don't worry." She called softly to him in High Valyrian. "Your fire won't hurt me." When Euron covered her mouth with his hand, she simultaneously bit his hand and stabbed him in his thigh with the dagger she had held hidden behind her back. While Euron roared and took a step back she yelled in High Valyrian. "Burn me if you have to Viserion but burn this false master as well. If he dies, you are free." She swallowed hoping that all she had just told him was the truth. They hadn't really tested her getting entirely engulfed in dragonfire nor did she know for sure what would happen with Viserion if Euron died.
  
  Viserion opened his mouth but no flames appeared. Instead he swept his tail in their direction. The guard that appeared to be on her side pulled her away in the nick of time and only Euron was catapulted away from them. Viserion roared again.
  
  The guard handed her the horn and whispered urgently. "I cleaned the mouth piece. Now blow and don't be afraid. Look in the dragon's eyes and promise to treat him as an equal. Quickly, before Euron can return."
  
  Dany locked her eyes with Viserion and begged him silently as she had done so often in the past to be her friend. Out loud she spoke the word 'equals' in High Valyrian and then she blew the horn keeping her eyes locked with the dragon. This time a warm tone resounded over the beach. All the metal bands on the horn lit up, a sight that was emphasized by the darkness around them.
  
  Viserion turned his attention to Dany. His eyes that already had been bloodshot leaked blood now. He roared and turned away from her, incinerating several trees and some Ironborn that were fleeing. Then he turned back to face Dany and his tail swept the horn from her hands. It was catapulted up in the air and landed on the beach close to the water. Viserion half sprinting, half flying followed after it and engulfed the entire length of the horn in a large burst of dragonfire. The guard tugged her behind some bushes and from there Dany watched on as Viserion roared in frustration when the horn still lay there, smoking hot but intact. The dragon grabbed the horn between his claws and turned his head around to check where everyone was. Dany could practically feel his rage when his dragonfire targeted a few men that were fleeing towards their fleet. Then he jumped in the air and flew east over the Narrow Sea with the still smouldering horn firmly in the grip of his large claws.
  
  Dany stayed behind with mixed feelings. While she was glad that Viserion had been able to free himself and taken that horn with him so the enemy could no longer use it against either him or his brother, she was disappointed that the dragon had not seen fit to take her with him. She sighed when she lost sight of his shape. The darkness had swallowed him up despite the fact that the moon had emerged behind the clouds for a moment and the night was no longer as dark as it had been before.
  
  She took her eyes of the sky when she felt her rescuer tugging on her arm and allowed him to drag her away from the scene. Dany looked over her right shoulder and noticed that the beach was deserted for as far as the remnants of the fires Viserion had lit allowed her to see. A few Ironborn corpses lay on the beach, some of the bodies were only half burnt but none of them seemed to have survived the dragonfire. As far as she could tell, there was no sign of Euron Greyjoy. The last she had seen of him was his body flying through the air when Viserion had swept his tail the first time. She had not actually seen where he landed nor could she remember hearing a cry of pain.
  
  She ran further into the woods following her mysterious rescuer and stopped when he did. She allowed him to tug her behind a very large tree. Breathing rather heavily they both made use of their position to discreetly scan the area that lay between them and the beach to make sure that they were not being followed. Dany prayed that the Ironborn would presume that she had been one of the victims that Viserion had reduced to ashes. Seeing no movement they ran further into the woods.
  
  "Who are you?" She whispered to her rescuer when they stopped running again and hid behind another large tree. The faint light of the moon made it possible to distinguish some of the features of her rescuer. She gasped when she took in the frail form of an old woman. "What magic is this?" Dany looked stunned. She distinctly remembered the strong pull on her arm moments earlier. But the woman whose wrinkled body stood inches away from her in ill fitted men's clothing looked to be on death's door.
  
  "The Lord of Light chose to protect us." She declared and Dany watched mesmerized as the strange woman fastened a large red stone around her neck and her appearance changed, this time in full view.
  
  "You are the Red Priestess who converted Stannis Baratheon." Dany whispered when she beheld a beautiful red haired woman. "Why did you help me?"
  
  "Hopefully there will be time later for explanations. First we must get to safety. Can you feel the dragon?"
  
  Dany looked at her as if she had two heads. Then she remembered the rage and frustration she had felt when Viserion realised the horn had not been destroyed. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on reaching out to Viserion. A piercing pain shot through her head. "I think he is rejecting me. My head hurts."
  
  "You rode him here. I saw you yesterday." The red priestess whispered. "Can't you call him?"
  
  "I don't know?" Dany bit her lip. "Maybe when he heals from the hurt the horn inflicted on him. I think he feels betrayed. I believe our best bet is to find the way to my husband's camp. We have been heading in the right direction."
  
  A large shadow suddenly appeared before the Red Woman and sniffed her.
  
  "Ghost!" Dany whispered and latched onto the wolf for dear life. "Show Aegon where we are. Ask him to come here please." She released the white direwolf when he shook his head. She immediately understood and made sure to stand in front of him so he could take in her entire figure. "Aegon, I am in the woods on my way to your camp. Viserion incinerated some of the men and then flew east. Helped by the chaos he created, the red Priestess and I managed to get away unseen. As far as we know we are not being followed. It is possible that they believe I am dead as well. I'll follow Ghost. Please come and get us?"
  
  Ghost nodded his head a few times and then rubbed his head against her in an affectionate manner.
  
  Melisandre looked at her in wonder. "You communicate with your King through his wolf?"
  
  "Aegon can enter his mind sometimes. See through his eyes. He is a warg. Some call him a skinchanger. It would make sense that he sent Ghost here to scout the terrain and look for me before they attacked tomorrow. Going by Ghost's reactions, I believe that King Aegon was sharing his eyes just now. The safest thing to do is follow Ghost. He will lead us to my husband's camp."
  
  Melisandre peaked through the trees. I think Ironborn are disembarking. We'd better not linger here."
  
  Dany looked at Ghost. "Can you lead us to the camp. Make sure that we do not run into the enemy?"
  
  The wolf sniffed her hand and looked in the direction of the men who were disembarking. He sniffed the air and took a few paces in the direction where Dany knew the Targaryen camp was located further inland. Ghost sniffed the air a third time and took a few more steps and then looked over his shoulder into her eyes. Dany considered that an invitation to follow him and they quickly hurried after the wolf who picked up speed. Suddenly Ghost stopped and they all ducked behind some bushes just in time to detect a stray groups of Ironborn in the company of what she suspected were female slaves returning from the woods and walk in the direction where their fleet lay anchored. When Ghost started off again, Dany was quick to follow him. Not quite seeing where she stepped, she stumbled over a thick tree root that grew partly above ground but had hardly been visible since once again it was very dark and the root had been partially submerged by a puddle of rainwater. She fell sideways and heard a bone in her left arm crack. Despite her efforts, a muffled cry left her lips.
  
  "Hide in the bushes." Melisandre hissed. "I hear men coming. They must have heard the noise you made."
  
  Dany studied Ghost looking from her to the direction where the men were supposed to be and back at her. "I think it is all right. The direwolf is staying calm. It must be our men."
  
  Ghost, satisfied by her words lay down next to her and licked her face. Dany tried to reposition herself so she could cradle her arm against her body.
  
  "Dany, are you near?"
  
  Dany could have cried from sheer relief when she heard the voice of Aegon whispering through the trees. "Ghost, go get Aegon. I'm here. I'm here." She called out softly.
  
  She saw Aegon appear first, quickly followed by at least ten heavily armed men, who had their weapons drawn. He immediately sheathed Blackfyre and kneeled by her side. Dany hissed when he touched her arm. "Careful. I think it is broken." When Aegon spotted Melisandre's bad fitting clothes, he unclasped his own coat and covered her with it.
  
  "She saved me, Aegon. We have to take her with us."
  
  "Of course, dearest. Can you walk?"
  
  A few men had stepped closer she nodded at them when she noticed their White Cloaks. After nodding her head in a silent greeting she answered her husband. "Yes. I merely have to be careful not to move my arm too much." She secured her arm against her upper body and held it in place using her good arm. She bit her lip to hold in another cry of pain when he helped her to her feet.
  
  Aegon's hand cupped her face. "The camp is not that far. Anything you can tell me about Viserion's whereabouts or what they did to him earlier? Rhaegal awoke the entire camp with his roar when his brother reached out to him in pain. Then nothing, but we could detect some smoke above the trees when we looked in the direction of their beach."
  
  "Viserion is free and has taken the horn with him. I'll explain the rest later. Let's first return to our camp, please."
  
  "Of course. Would you rather ride Ghost?" He asked her when she stumbled and he heard her cry out in pain. He caught her before she could hit the ground when she lost consciousness.
  
  Melisandre was quick to reassure him. "Don't worry. She merely fainted. The child is unhurt."
  
  "She is not pregnant." Jon corrected her. "She had her moonblood not that long ago." He returned his attention to Dany when she slowly reopened her eyes. " Do you think you can ride Ghost?"
  
  She shook her head. "I'd most certainly fall off. How far is the camp?"
  
  "Don't worry, my love. I'll get you there. He swept her up in his arms taking care not to move the broken arm too much. "Hang in there, my sweet." Dany closed her eyes and the next time she opened them, she was lying on the primitive cot in their tent, soft furs covering her entire body.
  
  Interlude 50: King's hands only
  
  At least he'd gotten a decent meal and some good northern ale. It had been sennights since he'd enjoyed a good brew. He sighed. The guards were casting weird glances at him once in a while. Ever since Daryn had finished his shift he had been left on his own. Well, it didn't matter. He would be on his way soon. That was the life of a messenger. Only he'd never been this far south and now he would need to venture even further in that direction. The Stormlands, Daryn had told him that the King was in the Stormlands. He would have lots of stories to tell when he returned to Bear Island. He was only the second messenger from his island that had been sent to King's Landing and now he would be the first one to visit the Stormlands. It would buy him free drinks in the taverns for moons. Everyone would flock to him to hear the tales of his travels.
  
  But that was still far off. First he needed to complete this mission or he couldn't show his face in the North again. He would not only disappoint the house he'd sworn fealty to. He also was keen to use this opportunity to impress House Stark. The Young Wolf had personally entrusted him with carrying a message south to put in into the hands of his cousin, King Aegon, the famous dragonrider who had single-handedly defeated the Ironborn on Pyke only to head south next and take the Iron Throne without bloodshed. The young Stark heir had been looking for the most trustworthy messenger. Prince Robb had claimed that the letter was by far the most important message he had ever needed to send. And how could it not be so if the recipient was none other than King Aegon, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Rickard knew he had been chosen because he was the fastest and never got lost. However that reputation only referred to all corners of the Northern Kingdom. Being of a sunny disposition and always having an entertaining anecdote at the ready, had gone a long way to befriending guards at most of the northern keeps as well as cultivating a good rapport with tavern owners and blacksmiths. It made his nomad life as a messenger all the more pleasant. He loved being a messenger and he got antsy when he was stuck for too long in the same place. But when the Stark Prince picked him to hand deliver a message to the King, he had immediately realized that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. He touched the map of the Seven Kingdoms that he carried with him always briefly for luck. He would need to study it some more before he set off again.
  
  He had been disappointed and excited at the same time when he had learned that the King was absent. His adventure would continue for a while yet. The only thing that worried him was that he had been told more than once that Prince Robb would be counting the days until he received a raven to confirm that the King had read his letter. All eyes turned to the door of the guard House when it burst open rather unceremoniously.
  
  "Ricky Woodfoot! As I live and breathe! It really is you! When Daryn told me that you were here, I didn't believe my ears."
  
  He was enveloped in a man hug and was catapulted back to his youth. "Benjen Stark, I mean, Prince Stark." He corrected quickly.
  
  "Prince of the North at your service." Benjen, one of his youth friends grinned at him. "I see that they fed you all right. Take a walk with me?"
  
  Rickard was quick to get to his feet. "Always." He answered and both men grinned at each other when they remembered many instances where one had convinced the other to accompany him on some childish adventure in the northern woods and that particular word had been their standard answer.
  
  The guards looked at him with more respect now and they saluted him when he exited the building flanked by Prince Benjen of House Stark. He needed to take large steps to follow his childhood friend who by the looks of it had a destination in mind.
  
  "The Godswood, Ricky. There we can talk for a bit without a thousand ears listening in. This capital, it is not like the north."
  
  "I gathered that already. Gods, Benjen, how do these people stand it living on top of each other, so to speak. I've never seen anything like it. And the smell! To think I considered Wintertown overpopulated last winter."
  
  "These people don't know any different. At least they have enough food and clean water now that our young King is in charge."
  
  "Many a tale reaches our northern backwoods praising Lyanna Stark's son. All positive stories, every last one of them. The first one to insult King Jon, I mean King Aegon, on northern territory will not take another step before he apologizes and has vowed to never to do it again. He will bear the bruises for days to help him remember."
  
  Benjen Stark nodded. "Who would have thought that our next reunion would occur this far south? Did you ever suspect that Daryn Hollen would prefer to stay in King's Landing rather than returning to Winterfell?"
  
  "Must be our influence, Benjen. You and I travelled a lot and always made him jealous with our tales. Hells, you made me jealous. I travelled the North but you, is there a corner in the Seven Kingdoms that you did not visit?"
  
  "I'm sure there are still many, Ricky."
  
  "The purpose of those travels though, you can tell me now? Was it all in service of your nephew? Ever since I hear of his existence, I kind of wondered."
  
  "You have the right of it. You understand I hope why I couldn't tell you? I did assist the Night's Watch as well, so it was not all a lie. I just kept silent about the part where I was helping to secretly raise the true King of Westeros out of my stories."
  
  "I'd have done the same if I'd had a nephew like that. Gods, you must be proud of him. He is one of a kind. Can you tell me more now?"
  
  "I will if that is what you want. But first, tell me what you are doing here. What mission brings you this far South? Or will you need to leave a bit out as well?"
  
  Ricky shook his head under the scrutiny of his youth friend. "I carry a letter and as is often the case, the messenger doesn't know what it contains. It is one of the thickest I ever carried without it containing additional documents or drawings. The Young Wolf wrote a long letter to his cousin, the King."
  
  "Can you leave it with me?"
  
  "No, Benjen. You know the drill. I have to deliver it into the hands of the recipient and wait for an answer."
  
  Benjen Stark nodded. "So you are off to the Stormlands then? To meet my nephew, the best King in all the history of Westeros?"
  
  "I have to. I can't stay here and wait. No one knows when the King will return. Your nephew, Prince Robb I mean, is really anxious to receive confirmation that the King has read his letter."
  
  Benjen frowned. "May I ask if Prince Robb was well when last you saw him?"
  
  "As far as I know, very well. The guards have started a betting pool regarding the date of his betrothal. The nobles though are still none the wiser."
  
  "That could explain the letter," Benjen looked thoughtful.
  
  Rickard nodded. "Most likely he is begging for permission from his cousin, the King."
  
  "Before his father can say no." Benjen concurred. "Do you happen to know who my nephew might have chosen to take as his wife?"
  
  "Yes, but I can only tell you if you swear to you keep it between us. The guards at Winterfell would never speak to me again if they heard I was the one who spread the rumour. They have a reputation to uphold. It's only because they know of my friendship with you and Daryn that they include me in their little circle."
  
  "I never spilled a single secret you told me, Ricky. I won't start now. I'm just worried about Robb's choice of bride. He's been without parental supervision for some time and a young hotblooded male is not always thinking with his head. Come on." He coaxed. "We're in the Godswood. No one will overhear and you know I'd rather lose my swordhand than to hurt Robb. He's my nephew and the heir to the North."
  
  "Prince Robb chose well." Rickard bristled, a bit insulted with his friend's insinuations. "He is set to marry a noble maiden from House Mormont."
  
  "Lady Dacey?" Benjen looked delighted when Rickard nodded. "By the Gods, the boy may have bitten off more than he can chew." He chuckled.
  
  Rickard smiled now and leaned closer to Benjen. "Nobody suspects for now. Only the ones guarding the Prince know. He wants to keep it under wraps until his father gives his consent and they can make it official. The couple for some reason is anxious about it though. As if Prince Eddard would not welcome a noble maiden from his most loyal vassal House."
  
  "Hence this letter to his cousin the King. Ricky, I'll help you get the message to my nephew. I'll give you an escort and also a fresh horse. One of the best of the royal stables. Just return it to me in one piece or the King will flay my skin." Benjen tapped his friend on the shoulder to show he was joking about the flaying. "And give my royal nephew my regards, while you are at it. Oh, and don't wet your pants when you see the dragons. They've grown much bigger and scarier since the Northern Lords last saw them."
  
  "And here I had been focusing on surviving an encounter with the famed white direwolf with red eyes."
  
  "Ghost will sense you are not a threat to his master. Besides he is of the North as you are. You'll live to tell yet another adventure, my friend."
  
  The camp looked deserted or at least the part most inland when Rickard and his small retinue arrived five days later. The men Benjen has sent with him were friendly and they had made good time. As soon as they had left the city, the air had gotten cleaner and he had filled his lungs to capacity without getting nauseous from the smell. He'd never grow used to living in King's Landing. If Daryn hadn't waved him off with his arms around a beautiful brown haired beauty, he would still be wondering why the former Stark Houseguard had chosen to stay in this stinking part of the Seven Kingdoms and guard the gates of the Red Keep.
  
  A few servant girls that were preparing food out in the open looked up when his party approached. Then he noticed soldiers lining up to prevent him from reaching the tents. They wore the banner of the Golden Company. Daryn looked at them with excitement having only heard descriptions of this legendary sellsword company from Essos.
  
  "Halt, who goes there?"
  
  Rickard barely held back a smile. No matter where you went, they all used that same expression. He held both the banner from Bear Island and the one flying the grey Stark direwolf sigil up for all to see and shouted the familiar phrases known to all. "Rickard of House Woodfoot from Bear Island in the capacity of express messenger on an assignment sent by Prince Robb of House Stark, hands of King Aegon only."
  
  The better equipped soldier stepped forward. "Lorimas Mudd, Serjeant of the Golden Company at your service. The King has left for battle. We expect an update soon. For your own safety, it is best that you wait until he returns to this camp."
  
  Rickard dismounted from the beautiful steed he had been riding and was glad that Prince Benjen had offered to send word to Winterfell by raven that the delivery of the letter would be delayed by a few days since the King was in the Stormlands to treat with Lord Stannis of House Baratheon. It seemed now that there was to be even further delay. "Battle?"
  
  A Lord carrying the sigil of a rack of golden antlers on some blue white background approached with haste. "Lord Buckwell of the Antlers. I am in charge during the King's absence. "What is your purpose?"
  
  The Serjaent of the Golden Company rolled his eyes but Rickard kept his face straight when he repeated his assignment holding up the banners. "Rickard of House Woodfoot from Bear Island in the capacity of express messenger on an assignment sent by Prince Robb of House Stark, hands of King Aegon only."
  
  "The King is not here. That damned parlay was a farce. Our King had no choice but to retaliate." Lord Buckwell explained gruffly. "I have orders from the King to bring all messages to the Queen while he is out dealing with the traitors. I guess that includes stray messengers from the North. Before I bring you to her, I need to ask you to surrender your weapons. Merely as a courtesy to her Grace. They'll be returned to you the moment you leave the royal area of the encampment.
  
  Rickard, very familiar with such demands immediately surrendered his sword and dagger.
  
  "Lord Buckwell gave him his first tentative smile. "Bear Island, you say. Where exactly is that situated?"
  
  A bit later he stood before a tent that was heavily guarded and was actively searched for weapons. The King took his Queen's safety very seriously. When he made a small remark in that regard, he was told that the King had ample reasons for his actions. The Queen had been rescued from the enemy camp only a few nights ago.
  
  Rickard dropped to one knee when he entered the tent and saw the silver haired queen. Even the most excessive rumours he had heard didn't do the young Queen justice. The arm she held in a sling did not diminish the effect of her regal posture and the confidence and authority she exuded.
  
  "Well, met Rickard Woodfoot of Bear Island. Please rise."
  
  The warm voice in combination with the most exquisite purple eyes he had ever seen made Rickard fall in love for the first time ever. He had never cared for taking a wife, his adventurous life not suited for founding a family. He had bedded willing servant girls a plenty but none had made enough of an impression on him to still remember their faces when he reached his next destination. For the first time, he wondered whether that made him miss out on a certain aspect of life. He swallowed and pushed these thoughts to the background. She was his Queen and had the most valiant man in the Seven Kingdoms as a husband. Nevertheless, he was sure that he would still remember her eyes and the way she looked until his dying day. "My Queen. I have a message for King Aegon, hands only, I am afraid."
  
  "I see. Would it help if I told you that my husband and I co-rule and in his absence I have his permission to open all his messages, even the private ones?"
  
  "Not for documents sent by express messenger. Only exception when the recipient is deceased. I apologize, my Queen."
  
  "Can you at least tell me who the message is from?" The Queen looked worried now.
  
  No wonder. He could flay himself. Her husband was fighting a war and he was talking about the eventuality of the King's demise. "Prince Robb of House Stark, my Queen. He was very insistent that the message should be delivered to King Aegon's in person, hence the phrase 'hands only'."
  
  "I see. The King will be displeased but then I presume he will understand your predicament. As it stands, you only have my word and no written proof. Next time, I'll make sure that King Aegon leaves written instructions behind." She studied him more closely. "Would that sway an express messenger, Rickard Woodfoot of Bear Island? Pray enlighten me."
  
  Rickard swallowed and babbled nervously. "If the right phrasing is used, it would. The rules are very specific though but the Maesters all have the necessary knowledge to draft such a decree. When I was uh taught my trade, I learned that all acolytes at the Citadel have to pass a test on this subject before they are allowed to start forging their first link."
  
  The Queen nodded and even gave him a small smile. "Is there anything else you can tell me to reassure me that a few days' delay won't hurt?"
  
  Rickard inhaled deeply. He really was a moron. Prince Robb had insisted he did not cause alarm and now he had done just that. Those purple eyes had made him forget a part of his instructions. "I was ordered to inform his Grace, King Aegon that there is no cause for alarm and that Prince Robb's letter contains a delicate personal matter that he wishes to lay out before his King in greater length than a scroll would allow him to do." He exhaled when he saw the Queen nod her enchanting head.
  
  "That is reassuring at least." She looked him straight in the eyes again. "Then it seems we are done here. My guards will see to it that you are provided with a tent and food. You have my permission to stay in our camp and wait for as long as it takes for the King to return."
  
  Rickard bowed and then followed the guard that took him to a small tent. Nobody he encountered knew how long it would take for the King and his armies to return. They all hoped it would be any day now. He checked the furs for dirt before he lowered his body and allowed his limbs to relax. "King's hands only." He muttered under his breath, pondering his predicament. For the first time in his life he had struggled with the rules. He had come so close to giving in to the beautiful Queen. That would have been the first time since he had been sworn in as a messenger that such a thing had ever occurred. He was about to put his head down on the furs when his stomach growled. He looked at the sack containing his meagre belongings and sighed. Knowing that the little food still left in there was not very appetizing after days of being tossed around in his saddle bag, he ignored how tired he was, got back up and left the tent in search of a warm meal.
  
  The next morning he awoke when he felt the ground shaking under him. Then he heard the typical signs of an army returning victorious. The chanting of the men almost drowned out the thudding of the horses' hooves. The camp followers were answering their shouts with relieved statements and well wishes. Rickard scrambled to his feet, adjusted his doublet and exited the small tent. An impressive cavalry was heading toward the encampment, a large direwolf could be seen running in front of the first line of soldiers as if it was their leader. A loud screech made him look up and his eyes beheld a dragon for the very first time. Benjen Stark had not exaggerated. He almost did wet his pants. The creature was enormous. When he saw no rider on the large dragon's back, he scanned the advancing cavalry. The moment his eyes found a certain figure, he realized that this part of his quest was at an end. On top of a magnificent steed sat a man fully covered in what he surmised was a Valyrian steel harness. He couldn't miss the sparks of sunlight that were reflected by the large rubies embedded in the breastplate. The King, for now there was no mistaking the identity of the rider, wore no helmet. He was flanked by the famous White Cloaks. The rest of the army followed waving their banners and shouting out victory slogans. It was more than clear that King Aegon had returned victorious.
  
  "Hands only," he muttered under his breath and followed a small group of camp followers to the edge of the camp where it became apparent that the army would halt. "King's hands only." He repeated and smiled.
  
  End notes:
  
  The next chapter will round up the Stormland story arch and the interlude will consist of a bundle of messages.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Loyalty is not always a given
  Chapter 51: Loyalty is not always a given
  
  Summary:
  
  The stage is set for war. In the far north, the Night King watches and waits.
  
  Notes:
  
  As always, the interludes are separate from the main timeline. We resume our story where the previous main chapter ended. This means that the events in chapter 51 take place before the express messenger's arrival.
  
  I am very happy to announce that I have found a new proofreader, Lunaselene. Together we have worked hard on this chapter and I am proud of how it turned out. If you enjoy it, know that this time it will be mostly due to her. She showed great patience and spared no effort in upgrading my amateurish scribbles. Thank you, Lunaselene!
  
  aaa
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon stood on the beach, contemplating the heavily clouded sky. Ser Gerold and Davos stood close by, both men determined not to let him brood alone. Three more of his Kingsguard had followed him out here but had kept their distance. He had just returned from visiting Rhaegal. Before leaving the cave, he had briefly warged into Ghost, who was watching over Dany, and had seen through his direwolf's eyes that she was still sleeping peacefully. The soothing tea that the healer had given her had taken effect. The man had reassured him that the Queen would not wake before dawn, but Jon would take no chances.
  
  It was the first time that Jon had needed the services of this particular healer, whom Sam had personally appointed to travel with the army. His friend had reassured Jon that it was the healer with the best reputation who worked in the clinic at the foot of the Red Keep. This was the first clinic that had opened shortly after Jon had taken the throne and that offered services to the servants and smallfolk. By now there were three such establishments up and running in King's Landing, all housed in former brothels once owned by Petyr Baelish. Oberyn had reassured Jon that there were still plenty of brothels left to service the good people and visitors in King's Landing, and Jon had taken the Dornish Prince's word for it.
  
  The night before, as soon as Jon had swept Dany into his arms to carry her to their tent, one of his Kingsguard had travelled ahead to the encampment to make the necessary preparations for the return of the Queen. Not long afterward, their party had encountered the healer, accompanied by two muscular guards carrying a stretcher to transport the Queen the rest of the way. In no time at all, Dany's left arm had been splinted and secured tightly to her body.
  
  Jon had not believed Dany at first when she had told him that her arm had not been broken by Euron fucking Greyjoy, but by an unlucky fall only moments before her rescue. Melisandre had had to confirm Dany's statement in order for Jon to calm down somewhat. Upon noticing that Dany had frowned and pursed her lips, Jon had begun to worry that she was perhaps frustrated with him or, Gods forbid, angry at him, and not merely wincing from her injury. He wisely decided to momentarily cease asking for the details of Euron Greyjoy's treatment of her.
  
  While a female camp follower was helping Dany undress for the night, Jon had used his royal authority to force the healer to teach him how to use that triangular cloth, which the man had called a "sling," to immobilise the Queen's arm. In a corner of the tent, Jon had then practiced with a similar cloth on the left arm of one of his squires. He had done this a few times before the healer had felt satisfied with his attempts.
  
  The man had then taken his King aside to whisper a bit of advice in his ear: it would be better if Jon let the Queen herself decide when to tell him more about her ordeal. His Grace should not insist on demanding more from her Grace at the moment-there would be enough time later for a more thorough questioning. For now, the Queen needed to rest, and it would be difficult for her if she were forced to relive her ordeal over and over again. Trying not to show his embarrassment, Jon had mumbled his thanks and promised that the Queen would be allowed to rest as long as she needed to. He had been pleased when the healer had left them with the promise to ask a servant to prepare some soothing tea for the Queen.
  
  It had been such a relief for Jon to have Dany back here, safe in his tent, safe in their camp again. He could finally see with his own eyes that she was relatively unharmed except for a few bruises, mostly on her arms where her guards had gripped her. Jon could finally stop imagining all the unspeakable things that Dany's captors might have done to her. Throughout their limited time alone together, he had not let her out of his arms and had catered to her every need. When she was dressed for the night and had eaten her fill, he had carried her to the cot and had joined her there, determined to keep her company until she fell asleep. The entire time they had talked, he had not stopped caressing her innocently.
  
  Jon had listened without interrupting while Dany told him about some of the things that had happened to her. He had suspected that she was skipping over some details, but he had refrained from asking her more probing questions. He hoped instead that Melisandre would be able to give him more information when he found time to speak with her in private. Jon had simply let Dany steer their conversation and start asking a few questions herself, mostly about Ghost and the dragons. While Jon was answering one of her questions, he was surprised by a soft snore, and he realized that Dany had finally succumbed to sleep.
  
  Even after Dany had fallen asleep, Jon had been unwilling to leave her. He had wanted to spoon up behind her and hold on to her for as long as she slept. He had lingered by her cot for a while before finally leaving her, aware that there was nothing much he could do for her at the moment.
  
  Jon had urgently needed to consult with Rhaegal and to get some fresh air before the upcoming battle at dawn. He had made sure that his and Dany's tent was heavily guarded before he left her to attend to the final preparations for battle. He had sent Renny to fetch Prince Oberyn to supervise Dany's guards, but had not waited for the Prince to arrive. Instead, he and Ser Gerold had gone to find Davos, and then, together with three other Kingsguards, Jon had hurried to the beach. There was nothing like a steady breeze of fresh sea air to clear his mind. He tried to enjoy these last few moments of respite before they headed out to battle. Only the Gods knew what unforeseen complications they would have to deal with this time.
  
  Jon made a conscious effort to focus on the battle and set aside all thoughts of Dany for the moment. "Have all our allies responded to the signals?" he asked Ser Gerold. "Despite the intermittent rainstorms, they all should have had ample time to receive the altered orders that were sent after the parlay."
  
  "We did, your Grace," His Lord Commander replied. "We spotted smoke signals from the west, and the Golden Company moved the ship with the red sail to the other side of their formation. If you recall, your Grace, that was the signal that we agreed upon to inform us that the Dornish troops have landed and can cut off the escape route south, not only in the mountains but on the beaches as well. Our own fleet has been spotted sailing up the coast and will come into view any moment now. Lord Randyll Tarly is closing in from the West and must have crossed the border by now. Together, we will advance on them from all sides. There is no route left for Stannis Baratheon and his allies to escape to!"
  
  Jon briefly scanned the sky once more and noticed a faint red colour in the few areas that the clouds did not cover. There was still no sign of a dragon approaching. Earlier, when Jon had visited Rhaegal in the cave on the beach, the large creature had been sleeping. Jon, however, had not hesitated to wake him up, sensing that Rhaegal was now much calmer and more optimistic. Upon waking, the dragon had confirmed that he had finally succeeded in contacting his brother, though only briefly. Viserion had been exhausted, but had reassured Rhaegal that all he needed was a few days of rest and quiet so that he could recover. Although unwilling to disclose his whereabouts, he had assured his brother that the long cursed, screaming object was safely hidden where humans could not easily find it. He had added that he counted on Rhaegal to help him destroy it one day.
  
  Before severing their connection, Viserion had also sent his brother an image of the foul wizard who was helping the enemy to torture dragons. Upon learning this, Jon had asked Rhaegal to show him the wizard's image so he would be able to recognize him. Earlier, Melisandre had approached him while he had been walking next to Dany's stretcher, and had advised him to capture the wizard alive so he could describe what they had done to Viserion.
  
  Davos put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "Viserion will come back when he is ready, son. For now, let us concentrate on the battle at hand."
  
  Jon had reached the same conclusion. The fact that Viserion had communicated and exchanged useful information with his brother was confirmation that he still considered them his pack. Not wanting to ignore his Hand, and feeling grateful that the man had helped him cease his musings, Jon slowly lowered his head and addressed his two loyal councillors. "I've gone over the plan several times now. We've never had a better strategy. Everything points in our favour. Still, I can't help but feel anxious. Why is that?"
  
  "That's the lingering effect of the anxiety of the last couple of days. Shake it off, my King. We are ready for any eventuality." Ser Gerold, for once, spoke encouraging words.
  
  "Indeed we are," Davos confirmed. "The commanders are patiently waiting for you to put things in motion. The cavalry and the infantry are both assembling to form their battle formations as we speak."
  
  Jon took a deep breath. "All right, then. Let's head back so you can send out signals to all our allies that, as soon as our main hosts cross the border of the Stormlands, they can stop using stealth and can engage the enemy. If our enemy doesn't show up, they should just keep advancing at a steady pace and by no means break formation."
  
  "They all have been briefed to do just that, your Grace," Ser Gerold stated confidently. "They know better than to let themselves be lured out into a vulnerable position by chasing a random group of enemy soldiers. Our forces will constantly be scanning the environment for traps laid out by the enemy. They were trained well and know how to press on and advance in close ranks. They will have their shield wall up at the first sign of danger."
  
  "Good," Jon nodded. "Soon the fleet of the Golden Company will assume the agreed-upon formation to protect the arrival of the royal fleet. Thanks to their presence on the water, and since Strickland will deal with any resistance from the Ironborn fleet, the ships carrying the royal forces from Dragonstone, Claw Isle, and the Driftmark will be able to reach the beaches of the Stormlands in sufficient time."
  
  "You'll be pleased to hear that the last scout to return has confirmed the earlier reports, your Grace," Ser Gerold informed Jon.
  
  Jon and Davos exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing: Ser Gerold really was in an excellent mood. Perhaps their battle plan truly was perfect. In fact, Jon had never seen Ser Gerold so confident before a battle.
  
  Davos spoke up when Jon stayed silent. "So it has been confirmed that the Ironborn soldiers have not returned to their ships last night, as is their wont, and for all we know, only a skeleton crew of Ironborn will be out on the water. That is good news for Strickland, for sure, but this means that our ground forces will have to face the bulk of Euron Greyjoy's forces. What if the man keeps his word and stands by his ally on the field of battle?"
  
  Ser Gerold made a dismissive gesture. "Pfff, we can take the Ironborn even if we only match half their numbers-we'll cut through them like butter! Don't forget, the dragon will be quick to assist us the moment the Ironborn dare to show their faces."
  
  Jon studied his Lord Commander's face. "What do you predict is going to happen, Ser Gerold? Will the Ironborn stand and fight alongside the Baratheon army, or will they prove to be cowards and turn and run straight into one of the traps we have set up? And if they do so, would Euron Greyjoy be more likely to flee south than west?"
  
  Ser Gerold did not need to think long before responding. "Normally, I would loudly proclaim that if a Kraken runs, it is back to his ship. But ever since you came up with the brilliant idea of having the Golden Company raise the royal banner of the three-headed dragon on all the ships at the moment we attack, I don't think they will. And certainly not when the sellswords start doing the same on every Ironborn vessel immediately after seizing it. The Krakens would be fools to attempt a retreat by sea!"
  
  Jon nodded emphatically. "The time for stealth has come and gone. We will show them the extent of our power and use it to strike fear in their hearts. We will intimidate them at every chance we get! We will make them doubt what they are doing. Get them to question their Commanders. Maybe even have them wonder whether they have chosen the right King to support! Perhaps some of their foot soldiers will surrender before we even get close enough to engage them. Raising my personal banner on all the ships will confirm that House Targaryen has taken control of the bay even before the battle has well and truly begun!" Jon suddenly stopped speaking, realising that he had gotten carried away and was beginning to believe, as Ser Gerold did, that his side would undoubtedly win this battle.
  
  Davos, for once, did not point out that Jon was getting all worked up and should be more cautious. Instead, he added another argument to support the belief that their side would easily gain the upper hand. "Don't forget that our royal navy will have landed on the hostile beach by then, and the forces led by Lord Celtigar might already be in the process of driving the Krakens inland towards us. I'd say that those two threats will be enough to make even the fiercest Ironborn think twice about fleeing by sea! Whether they will run west or south, though, I cannot say. I could speculate and go for south, but it would be based on nothing more than my gut feeling. I'd lean more towards Euron Greyjoy fleeing, though. The only reason he'd stay here is if he had another trick left up his sleeve, some other elaborate trap we know nothing about. I don't think it likely, though. He seems to be the type of man who gambles without a safety net. And his gamble with the horn backfired! That's why I predict that he won't be around when we succeed in surrounding their camp. I just can't picture Euron Greyjoy making a stand next to the Baratheon army. I can't imagine him all ready and willing to fight fair and take an actual part in a conventional battle on dry land."
  
  Jon chuckled. "'Dry' is perhaps not the best word to use, for it looks like another storm will hit soon! But I agree completely. You have just voiced my thoughts out loud. I can't picture that scenario either. And do not forget the dragons. Greyjoy surely knows that at least one of the dragons will most likely come after him. He is no fool. He knows that dragons are intelligent creatures and that he will be their prime target."
  
  Then Jon sighed. "If only I knew where Viserion was, and could confirm with my own eyes that he is not severely hurt! What if he needs our help but is too traumatized to ask for it? He can't have flown far. If I knew where he was, I could have visited briefly with Rhaegal. I want to help him so badly! But instead, I need to content myself with having Rhaegal tell him how deeply I feel for him and wish to help him. How I wish that he would trust me again! All I know now is that he is resting and that his eyes are healing."
  
  "At least that is progress, son," Davos said in a soothing tone. "Rhaegal will do all he can, and I'm sure he'll keep you informed."
  
  Jon nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's literally what Rhaegal and I agreed upon. Rhaegal will also keep his brother up to date on the battle. Perhaps when Viserion learns that we are taking revenge on his torturers, he will regain his trust in us. Who knows, he might even show up in time to assist us. He must be itching to burn some Ironborn and get his revenge!"
  
  "Why would he distrust you, my King? You never did anything to hurt him." Ser Gerold frowned at the thought of the white dragon not supporting his King unconditionally.
  
  Jon bowed his head in shame. "I couldn't protect him, Ser Gerold. Rhaegal and I, we just left him there and allowed him and Dany to be captured."
  
  "All will be well- I am certain of it! All Viserion needs is time. Dragons are intelligent creatures. Once Viserion's shock wears off and he can think clearly again, he'll understand that you had no other choice at the time. I predict that he will return soon. Those dragons worship you-I'd stake my life on it!" Davos' open, sincere demeanour convinced Jon that his Hand truly believed what he was saying and was not just uttering hollow phrases to reassure him.
  
  "I agree!" Ser Gerold was quick to support Davos in encouraging their King. "Nobody can stay mad at you for long, my King. Before long, the white dragon will land at your feet and beg your forgiveness for abandoning you. I know, because I would do the same!"
  
  Despite the gravity of their topic, Jon suppressed a smile. Ser Gerold certainly persisted in behaving out of character by adamantly refusing to entertain the worst-case scenario. Once again, Jon raised his head to scan the eastern sky. How he wished he had the magical power to conjure up Viserion by merely staring at an empty sky! If only he could, through sheer willpower, convince the dragon to trust him again. He shook his head slightly and admitted to himself that chances were slim that Viserion would return before they launched their attack.
  
  A movement to his right made Jon turn to Ser Davos, who was pointing at something. Jon squinted and saw the faint shapes of ships approaching from the north. "Our loyal fleet!" he exclaimed.
  
  Ser Gerold signalled for the horses to be brought to them. It was time to put things in motion. Jon took the reins that Ser Patreck held out to him and addressed Davos and Ser Gerold one last time before mounting his horse. "I pray to all the Gods that both of you are correct and that we will win the day! Let us now head back. I need to dress myself for battle before we join the others and hold our final war council. Can I count on both of you to keep the meeting brief? I intend to move out as soon as possible. I cannot wait to show Stannis Baratheon and Euron Greyjoy, once and for all, what the words of my house are truly about. I promised them 'Fire and Blood'. They will soon find out that I was raised to always fulfil my promises."
  
  aaa
  
  Jon tried to keep his expression neutral as he observed the awestruck faces of his military commanders when he strode into the war tent in full Valyrian steel harness, his helmet tucked under his arm. This was the first time that he was wearing it in their presence. It had been a calculated move: the sight of him attired like his father would remind them of the righteousness of their cause. He also aimed to display the strength and power of his House and of the Crown, in order to give all the men who were about to risk their lives for him an extra boost of confidence and courage.
  
  When his men's exclamations had dissolved into soft murmurs, Jon held up his right hand and waited until they finally fell silent. "My Lords, you are all familiar with our strategy by now. We advance in formation and will do all that we can think of to intimidate them. I trust your soldiers have all learned the short verses that they are to chant, and in the proper order?"
  
  When all the men nodded, Jon gave them a small smile. He could already picture the left flank chanting a question and the rest of the army answering as one. Then the war drums would beat the rhythm of the answer before the entire army would repeat the slogan at the top of their lungs, all the while advancing slowly but steadily toward the enemy. The first few lines popped into Jon's mind. 'Who will win the day? We will! House Targaryen will! What must the enemy fear? Our wrath, our dragons' wrath! What did we bring? Fire and Blood, and steel to sing!' Of course, as soon as the battle was in full swing, the collective battle cries would stop and the noble houses would call out their own words to give them courage. Jon knew he would be crying 'For the Queen!' for all to hear as he prepared to cut down his first Ironborn.
  
  Before the men's murmurs could resume, Jon acknowledged their nods. "Very well. Make sure that the chanting starts the moment the green dragon sets off on his first flyover and destroys the catapults that our enemies have built. If we succeed in surprising them, Rhaegal will also burn the horses that they haven't been able to reach yet. And, most importantly, we move as one and scare the shit out of them!"
  
  "Next, we must make sure that our allies to the east, west and south receive word of how the enemy is reacting. Have a few archers stand by with the prearranged messages fixed to their arrows. They only have to pick the relevant one to shoot in the direction of our scouts, who will be hidden in their prearranged positions all across the entire area and will pass these messages on. You have all been briefed on everyone's positions. If the enemy splits up, get the word out. Not a single soldier can be allowed to slip past our ranks! As soon as the sun emerges from behind the clouds, know that you can also use the small mirrors to send out the prearranged signals. It is vital that our forces on the beach and our allies to the west and south know what to expect and which strategy to adapt. Are there any questions before we form up?"
  
  "Will you be on your dragon, your Grace?" Lord Royce asked.
  
  "I suppose my outfit is answer enough," Jon replied. "No, I won't be in the air. I will instead lead the cavalry, flanked by my entire Kingsguard. The objective is to scare the enemy and make them break formation. What better way than to see the reincarnation of my father riding towards them, accompanied by the most renowned sword fighters in the realm? Just picture it: seven White Cloaks led by the legendary White Bull, the Sword of The Morning, and Ser Oswell-all seemingly alive and well after being thought dead for more than a decade-advancing toward them with their swords drawn, and a large dragon flying overhead? Once they dare to look past us, the next things that they will see are the banners of countless houses from almost every Kingdom. We will make sure that they will recognise the banners of the few Stormland houses that have agreed to take up position in the vanguard. Can you imagine their reaction when they behold our magnificent cavalry, flanked on both sides by an impeccable formation of foot soldiers, resolutely advancing? I am willing to bet that some of them will have wet their pants before we have even closed half the distance between us!"
  
  "Is it wise to position yourself on the frontline, your Grace?" Lord Brynden of House Tully spoke up. The other commanders were quick to voice out a similar concern.
  
  Jon held up his hand once again. "I forgot to tell you that Ghost, my fearsome direwolf, will be with me as well. And I have been assured that no arrow will pierce this harness, my Lords. Chances are that the enemy will turn and run before we are close enough to clash swords. If not, I promise not to take undue risks. But, as the defender of the realm, I will take an active part in the battle. Most of you have seen me spar; others are aware of my reputation as a swordsman. Keep in mind that I will be protected on all sides by my loyal and very capable Kingsguard. And I am confident that every man in my army, regardless of rank, shall willingly rush to my aid if he is able to and should the need arise. Lastly, do not forget that my dragon will be keeping an eye on me from the air as well."
  
  Ser Gerold spoke up. "My Lords, I am confident that each one of you-hells, each one of your soldiers!-is more capable and more motivated than the average enemy soldier that we will face on the field. Do not forget that we have the element of surprise on our side. They will be preparing for a noontime attack, but we intend to wake them at dawn. Our formations will hold and our attack will be coordinated. They will probably still be struggling to form lines when we start our chant to distract them even more."
  
  Davos took the floor. "You all have been given descriptions of Euron Greyjoy and Stannis Baratheon. Our intent is to capture them alive so we can give them a trial and publicly execute them. There is a third person the King wants taken alive: a wizard in Greyjoy's employ. He is tall and thin with long white hair. He has missing fingers on each hand and usually wears a long white robe that reaches the ground. This man may have information that can help us. As much as possible, capture him alive."
  
  "We'll spread the word," Lord Willas of House Tyrell promised.
  
  Davos nodded. "Thank you, Lord Tyrell. I will count on it. Are there other concerns or questions that we still need to address?"
  
  It was Lord Brynden of House Tully who began speaking. "What about the dragon, my King? If you do not steer him, how will he, uh... will we be safe?" The Blackfish did not need to elaborate for Jon to understand what he meant.
  
  "Rhaegal knows the plan." Jon met the eyes of his commanders one by one, realising full well that Lord Tully had voiced a mutual concern. "That dragon is smarter than you think, and he will not endanger any of us. He is also more loyal to me than you can even begin to imagine. Rhaegal can feel my mood and hear my thoughts when I allow him to share my mind. If necessary, I will communicate with him and give him orders. No matter how far he is from me, he will hear my commands. You were all told of how Viserion freed himself and incinerated the magic horn. Our enemy is no longer in possession of a magic object that can hinder our dragons. I pity those among our enemies who will face Rhaegal's wrath."
  
  Davos spoke up now. "I wish to remind you one last time that many of the Stormlanders that we will be facing are only following Stannis Baratheon under threat of being sacrificed to his fire god if they refuse. If any of these men surrender, show them mercy. Take away their weapons and imprison them. They are not to be mistreated after they have formally yielded."
  
  The Lords all looked at their King for confirmation. Jon nodded his agreement and added, "Make sure to keep the Stormland captives separate from any Ironborn whom you take prisoner. During our earlier war councils, I mentioned that I would not ask you to hold back when engaging the Krakens. I now desire, more than ever, that you do this. The Queen was quick to place the blame of her capture and harsh treatment on the Ironborn."
  
  The men all began to mutter and curse the Ironborn. Even if he was pleased to see that they were so protective of their Queen, Jon greatly wished to finish the meeting and head out. "My Lords," he said firmly, "I want to use this opportunity to repeat the warning that the Gods have sent us. Separate sources, more specifically, separate greenseers in different locations have received the same vision. After closely studying these visions, we have come to the conclusion that we need to take this particular warning of the Gods literally. For reasons that are largely beyond our comprehension, it is imperative that we try to minimize bloodshed at all costs. We must prevent too much blood from seeping into the soil or flowing into the bay or the sea."
  
  "Blood magic?" Renly Baratheon's voice sounded shrill as he uttered those two words. He acted as if he was only hearing about this for the first time-as if Jon had not mentioned the warning of the Gods at quite a few meetings already.
  
  "Our enemy has been known to use blood magic," Jon confirmed without volunteering further information. "For that reason, Rhaegar has been given orders to burn his victims until only their ashes remain. Try to be creative when you subdue the enemy. Strangle them, knock them unconscious, disarm them and tie them up if possible. However, never endanger your own lives! If you have no other options, run your attackers through with your lance or sword before they can wound you. Try not to leave too many bleeding enemy corpses behind. They should be burned before too much blood leaks into the earth. Rhaegal can help with this, and several men will be carrying torches for that very purpose. Should some of our own fall, we will treat their bodies with respect. Bandage their wounds if possible, so the rear guard can transport their bodies safely to the encampment and they can be prepared for their funeral ceremony afterwards."
  
  "Have all our allies been given these unusual instructions?" Lord Lannister asked.
  
  Jon turned to Lord Tyrion's uncle, relieved that the man had come around and made amends. Lord Kevan of House Lannister had renewed his pledge of allegiance in front of all his commanders and Jon had formally forgiven him for breaking faith. Jon had also allowed him to fly the Lannister banner and permitted his soldiers to openly wear the striking colours of their Liege Lord with pride. It was now time, anyway, to show Stannis Baratheon that the combined might of at least five Kingdoms was coming for him.
  
  Jon confidently met Kevan Lannister's gaze. "They have all received detailed instructions. You see, the Gods sent their warning long before the date of the parlay was set. The Dornish troops, the Golden Company, the fleet commanded by Lord Celtigar, and the forces led by Lord Randyll of House Tarly have all been notified of this in good time."
  
  Jon's eyes took in the flashy gold and red armour the man had shown up in. His allied forces would make a striking impression: White Cloaks, Knights in shining armour, banners of countless noble houses in all shapes and sizes. At the previous war council, where Davos had finally disclosed the full extent of the battle plans, Jon's commanders had suggested carrying some northern banners with them as well, or at least the Stark banner, since the King was half Stark. Jon had decided not to; the houses of the Northern Kingdoms had not been called to arms, and he saw no need to hide this fact.
  
  To convince his commanders that they had all the manpower necessary to intimidate the enemy, Jon had finally disclosed the location of his reserve armies. He had made sure to mention the size of the armies ready to ambush the enemy from the south and the west. They had already been informed about the allegiance of the Golden Company. It was also at that meeting that most of his commanders learned that the rumour that the Dornish loyalties were split was untrue. In fact, none of the Dornish forces were in league with Stannis Baratheon; the entire Kingdom of Dorne had answered King Aegon's call to arms. The Dornish army that would land on the southern beaches would move inland and, together with the army guarding the mountain passes near the border of Dorne and the Stormlands, they would cut off the enemy's escape route in that direction. Dornish ships would also be patrolling to prevent any of the Ironborn from fleeing south by ship. The men gave sighs of relief when Davos confirmed that Lord Tarly was also loyal to King Aegon, even if, to trick Stannis Baratheon, his forces had pretended to heed the call to arms on behalf of 'King' Stannis.
  
  When a few Lords had declared how insulted they were at being left out of the loop for so long, Davos quickly intervened, preventing their outrage from increasing. In his customary calm manner, he had explained that it had been necessary to keep the secret this long; if not, Stannis Baratheon might have discovered the truth too early. In a large encampment such as theirs, it was always possible that someone could sneak in, disguised as an ally. The men guarding the perimeter could not know everyone in camp, and it was not too difficult to discover the password necessary for entering the camp. When Davos had told them about the two spies who had been captured two nights before the Queen and Viserion had been taken, the angry Lords had been duly silenced.
  
  Taken aback by the Lords' vehement reactions, Jon had been glad that he had heeded Davos' counsel and had informed Lord Willas of House Tyrell of the understanding with Lord Tarly before Lord Willas had left King's Landing to join the army. The Lord of the Reach would have been justified to criticize the King for not trusting him and for dealing with his bannermen behind his back.
  
  Jon let his gaze wander over the men gathered around him. It looked like they were all on board with his strategy. This time, nobody had started muttering about being kept out of the loop for so long when he mentioned Dorne or Lord Tarly. "Any other thoughts or questions?" he asked. When the men shook their heads, Jon's eye fell on Lord Renly of House Baratheon.
  
  Jon had almost come to blows with Renly Baratheon a few times before, and he now understood why Stannis Baratheon had refused to let his brother attend the parlay. It had been one of the easier terms to agree with. And since Daenerys had been a prisoner of Stannis Baratheon at the time, Jon had taken no risks and had left Lord Renly behind without any protest.
  
  Their most recent disagreement had centred on the issue of Lord Renly's not being given command of the small force from the Stormlands that had pledged fealty to House Targaryen. Jon and his closest advisers had decided that Ser Gerold should assume command instead. That was the best military option since these men were going to be part of the vanguard and were set to ride in formation with Jon and his White Cloaks. They had decided on this arrangement in order to give the Stormlords fighting for Stannis Baratheon another reason to regret the side they had chosen. The sight of their fellow Lords and, perhaps, the friends of their youth riding towards them, weapons drawn, might convince them to reconsider and surrender.
  
  Neither Jon nor his advisers could picture Lord Renly leading the charge on the front lines. Instead, Lord Renly had been assigned to oversee the rear guard along with Davos. It would put him out of harm's way and Jon need not worry about his chances of survival. However, Lord Renly had not taken this well and had accused Jon of sidelining him. He had voiced his misgivings out loud, wondering whether the King would keep his word and allow him to rule the Stormlands, instead of some puppet fished up from the Seven knew where! Jon had not tried to hide how insulted he felt to have his honour questioned and Gendry belittled. It had required all of Davos' diplomatic skills to get both men to calm down and to admit that they were both on edge and had said things that they would regret later.
  
  Jon, however, would now make doubly sure to set up a shadow government for the Stormlands. He was done with pampering Renly, and he refused to tolerate any more of his demands or tantrums. If the man wanted his King to respect him, then he would have to grow a spine, show respect to his superiors, and learn what ruling was actually about. Jon would only allow Lord Renly more leeway once the latter proved to him that he now knew that there was more to being a Lord than merely dressing up like one, attending tournaments and banquets, and insisting on being treated with respect due to his inherited station.
  
  "Lord Renly!" Jon spoke his name loudly enough to catch everyone's attention. "You have yet to share your opinion. How do you believe your brother will react to our surprise attack, keeping in mind the change in our circumstances?"
  
  Jon was secretly amused when all eyes turned to Lord Renly to hear his reply. This man, who was always so quick to voice his complaints, proved to be hopelessly out of his depth after being asked one straightforward military-related question.
  
  Finally, Renly Baratheon responded in his usual affected tone. "My brother will not flee. He will order his men to fight until the last man."
  
  "We all agree that Stannis Baratheon is no coward, Lord Renly. The question is, will he make his stand here near the border, or will he regroup somewhere else? Which terrain would he prefer to face us on? Is there any place nearby where he has a strategic advantage over us-the high ground, so to speak?" Jon tried once more to get squeeze intelligence from Renly.
  
  Renly merely shrugged his shoulders, and Jon gave up. He turned to the other Lords and flashed them his most encouraging smile. "So our strategy is final. I wish you all courage and strength for the coming battle. The Gods are on our side, and the dragons as well! We will carry the day!"
  
  Davos spoke up quickly as the commanders rose to their feet. "Let's join the men outside. The King will survey the army before he gives the signal to head out."
  
  'The Gods bless Davos', Jon thought as he added, "And I will address them shortly to wish them Godspeed and thank them for their loyalty. I will let Rhaegal perform a flyover to show them that I can control him and likewise remind them that the enemy has no dragon to command. May I stress once more how important it is that they understand that only a member of House Targaryen can control a dragon? Each of our soldiers must be reassured that, no matter what happens on the battlefield, the dragons will not hurt them. Remind them that my dragons are very intelligent and have keen eyes and instincts. If one of the dragons happens to fly rather low over our men's heads, our men must not falter and must focus on the enemy instead. The dragons will help them intimidate our enemy, while our men should press on and use the enemy's fear and distraction to their advantage. My dragons will only unleash their fire when they are absolutely certain that it will only harm enemy soldiers or destroy enemy assets."
  
  Davos coughed to get everyone's attention and officially closed the meeting. "Let's get on with it then, my Lords. And do not forget to pray for continued dry weather!"
  
  Jon was the first to leave the war tent. He had to pick up Ghost, who was still guarding Dany. He had already scribbled a note to leave in their tent for her to find when she woke up. When he reached the tent, he saw Oberyn sitting next to the entrance. The Dornish Prince was keeping vigil with several of his long spears within easy range, already making good on his word. Prince Oberyn had promised to personally oversee Dany's safety until Nymeria Sand arrived with the Golden Company to secure the campsite.
  
  Oberyn looked up at Jon, his face serious for once. "All set?"
  
  "Yes. We head out as soon as I have addressed the men."
  
  "Well then, what's keeping you? Hurry inside, kiss your sleeping beauty, and go play the hero! I foresee that this will be the easiest battle you have ever fought."
  
  "Is that why you won't come along? Not enough of a challenge?" Jon relaxed as he and Oberyn effortlessly engaged in their customary friendly banter.
  
  Oberyn smiled. "You don't need me out there! You must admit that you are utterly relieved that someone of unlimited capabilities is guarding your precious Dany. Do not worry. I will fight beside you when you truly have need of me."
  
  All teasing was instantly forgotten as Jon exclaimed, "You'll come North with us?"
  
  "Try and keep me away!" Oberyn challenged him. "You'll want me close. Ser Arthur might guard your weaker left side, but I will guard your back as well as your right. I have been training diligently these past few months."
  
  Jon nodded solemnly. "I'd be a fool to refuse your help. I promise that I'll never doubt you again."
  
  "But where's the fun in that?" Oberyn countered and, grinning, shoved Jon inside the tent.
  
  Ghost immediately rose to his feet and made room for Jon. Mindful of his armour, Jon knelt beside the cot and contemplated his sleeping wife. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and pressed his lips to it for a moment. She looked at peace, with no trace of her recent ordeal visible on her face. Jon marvelled at how young, beautiful, and innocent she looked with her features relaxed in sleep. He fought an impulse to wake her so he could kiss her deeply before the battle. It was a selfish thought, he told himself, and would do her no good. Once awake, she would start to worry about his safety and be unable to sleep again. Jon's eyes wandered instead over her form and her flat belly. Melisandre had offered them hope-they would soon know for sure. His lips ghosted over hers as he got back on his feet. Before leaving the tent, he contemplated her one last time, and only when Ghost nudged him did he finally step outside.
  
  Jon waved goodbye to Oberyn, who joked about stealing his lady and his two squires, and making a play for that iron monstrosity in the Red Keep, if Aegon didn't write or come back soon. By the time Oberyn finished his sentence, Jon was already too far away to retort, but a smile played on his lips as he took the reins of his horse from Monty. Both squires would remain in camp; they had received orders to stay close to Daenerys, bring her meals, and perform other tasks that the Queen might require their assistance with.
  
  Jon watched the formations line up on the open field as he stood between Ghost and his horse. Each soldier knew his place well, and the ranks looked impressive. Soon they would march out and force Stannis Baratheon to bow to the might of House Targaryen. Jon prayed that he could return safely to Dany at the end of the day and bring her the welcome news that the Seven Kingdoms were now truly theirs. He closed his eyes and recalled how he had kissed her ever so lightly before leaving her.
  
  Jon had written down all the information that Rhaegal had given him about Viserion on a small scroll which he had left on the furs next to where Dany rested her head. He knew that she would be pleased, though not surprised, to learn that Rhaegal had succeeded in contacting his brother. In fact, she would have expected it. She had felt something stir deep inside her twice already, and had somehow known that it had been her tentative link with Viserion. Jon remembered that she had first told him of this after he had found her and Melisandre in the woods and had been carrying her back to their tent. Neither of them had dared utter the word 'bonding' out loud, but they both knew what this could imply.
  
  As Jon mounted his horse, he turned to gaze one last time in the direction of the royal tent. Although he was too far to see them, he knew that Prince Oberyn had posted several royal guards all around the tent-men who would protect the Queen with their lives. As soon as the royal fleet had landed safely and the Ironborn ships were neutralised, a large section of the Golden Company would disembark to secure the perimeter of their camp. It had been decided that the Essosi sellswords would not take part in the battle against Stannis Baratheon, but would instead ensure the safety of all the Targaryen camp followers who had stayed behind. Jon had been doubly glad that they had organised things this way now that Dany would also be left behind in camp. Prince Oberyn was bound by his promise to remain by Dany's side until he judged that the Golden Company had everything under control; then nothing in the world could keep him from joining the battle. Jon knew better than to try and predict the next move of his Dornish friend.
  
  Not one war horn sounded to alert the men that it was time to move out. Instead, they had agreed to use other ways of communicating as a sign of respect for the dragons. The different rhythms of the war drums announced that each of the divisions were ready to move out. As promised, Jon made a show of surveying the entire length of the assembled forces. He shouted a few commands and Rhaegal performed several somersaults up in the air, to the delight of Jon's men.
  
  The moment had finally arrived. Jon spurred his horse and his Seven White Cloaks did the same. With Ghost glued to Jon's left, they positioned themselves at the head of his army. He had not seen Davos but knew that his Hand would be overseeing the rear guard and the supply lines, as well as keeping an eye on Renly Baratheon. Jon scanned the horizon and saw the faint outlines of the Baratheon camp. "Fire and blood," he muttered under his breath, and then repeated it in a louder voice so that his Kingsguard could hear him. "Fire and Blood is what I promised Stannis Baratheon! Let's bring it to him!" Jon moved forward with an arm raised high, and the war drums began to beat the sequence that signaled the start of the march. The Seven White Cloaks quickly followed their commander. Jon could hear his whole army behind him, following his lead. 'Here we come, Euron Greyjoy and Stannis Baratheon! Here we come, with Fire and Blood, as promised!'
  
  aaa
  
  Two days later
  
  Jon eyed the three scrolls before him and cursed his decision to follow the trail of the Baratheon army instead of pursuing the fleeing Ironborn into the mountains. One of the scrolls was from Edric, who reported that the Dornish forces had captured Euron Greyjoy and his wizard alive, and described how he had played a major part in setting the trap. Edric proudly told his King that it was the Starfall Houseguards who had eventually captured the leader of the Ironborn.
  
  For once, a plan had gone too well. Jon's army had reached the enemy camp and engaged the meagre forces that were there to face them, but there had been no sign of Euron Greyjoy throughout. They had planned for that eventuality, however, and Lord Willas of House Tyrell's section of the army had received orders to track down the Ironborn. One of their first Ironborn captives had been quick to reveal that Euron Greyjoy had fled south to join up with the reserve force of what he believed to be Dornish allies.
  
  Jon skimmed over Edric's scroll once more. The moment Greyjoy had realised that they had fallen into a trap, it was too late: his forces had been scattered due to his haste in making contact with the Dornish. Nevertheless, despite their vulnerable position, the Ironborn leader had ordered his men to fight to the death. In fact, they had no choice: Princess Arianne's forces had begun a full frontal attack the moment the bulk of the Ironborn forces had appeared on the first mountain pass.
  
  Earlier, Lord Edric had split up his men and had ordered them to hide on both sides of the valley. As soon as the battle began, his men had turned the screw by appearing, as if out of nowhere, on both flanks of the mountain. Turning back was not an option for the Ironborn, for Euron's scouts had reported that an army carrying the banners of the Reach was closing in on them. Greyjoy quickly realised that he had lost the battle before it had truly begun. Edric boasted that thousands of Ironborn had been killed and their bodies burned as per his Grace's orders. A little over two hundred Ironborn soldiers had been taken prisoner. Euron Greyjoy himself had put up an impressive fight until some of Edric's houseguards succeeded in dropping a net over his head. The Dornish had incurred fewer than fifty fatalities.
  
  Edric had sent a second scroll later to confirm that a large delegation of the Dornish army, led by Princess Arianne, was marching to the encampment where he had left Dany behind. They would be bringing Euron Greyjoy, his wizard, and the remaining prisoners of war. A short sentence added at the end of the scroll made Jon smile: Edric would personally hand over to Jon his one-eyed gift, all nicely wrapped up to cover most of his cuts and bruises.
  
  The third and shortest scroll was from Lord Willas of House Tyrell. He wrote that his troops had not had to do much more than put up a shield wall and stop some stray Ironborn soldiers who were desperately trying to find a way. There were no casualties among his men. Willas reassured his King that Princess Arianne had shown him all the courtesy due to his status as her ally, and they would travel together to the encampment to meet up with his Grace.
  
  Davos had been worried when Jon had decided to send the Reach forces to help the Dornish capture the fleeing Ironborn, but Jon's gamble had actually turned out rather well. Jon wondered whether Lord Willas had deliberately avoided mentioning that Lord Renly of House Baratheon had volunteered to join him. Jon knew that it had been Willas's younger brother, Lord Loras, who had convinced Renly to pull himself together and assist his older brother. If there was one man that Renly Baratheon wished to impress and would listen to, it would be Loras, his lover. Jon decided to thank Loras as soon as he could speak to him away from Ser Gerold.
  
  Earlier that day, Davos had brought Jon a message from Strickland. As promised, the Captain-General of the Golden Company had ordered some of his forces to guard the Queen as soon as they had secured the Ironborn fleet. Strickland stated that only one Ironborn ship had sunk, and the rest had been seized without much damage. Since enough men were now guarding the Queen, the forces under Lord Celtigar had focused on setting up prison camps on the Stormland side of the border. They were using the tents that Stannis Baratheon had left behind as part of his desperate attempt to create the illusion that his army had not fled. They had confined their prisoners in two large caves, the Stormlanders in one and the Ironborn in the other.
  
  Strickland ended his report by confirming that the Golden Company's contract was now paid in full. He considered himself sufficiently compensated for his work, for he had been given the sturdy Ironborn ships and, even before he set sail for Westeros, a chest of gold. Nonetheless, he would still be pleased with a private thank you from the King once His Highness had safely returned to the encampment. Strickland also wrote that the Golden Company had suffered no fatalities and only a handful of men were wounded. He ended his report saying that the Captain-General of the Golden Company looked forward to celebrating an easy victory with the true King of all Seven Kingdoms.
  
  This was all very good news. Jon, his Kingsguard, and the combined forces of the Vale and the Riverlands had set up camp near the spot where the Kingsroad met the border between the Stormlands and the Reach. It had all been part of the plan they had devised in case Stannis Baratheon succeeded in fleeing west. They had soon discovered that Stannis Baratheon had fled with the bulk of his forces almost immediately after he had regained consciousness and had learned of the disappearance of the Targaryen Queen and her dragon. Several witnesses had confirmed that the self-proclaimed 'King Stannis, the First of his Name' had effectively fled ahead of, and actually betrayed, Euron Greyjoy.
  
  So much for Lord Renly's predictions! Jon had to admit that he too had not seen this coming. In fact, nobody could have guessed that it would be the stern Stannis Baratheon-who claimed to be an honourable man-to in fact be the first to break faith and run like a coward without warning his ally. And that Euron Greyjoy-always driven by self-interest, willing to resort to magic, trickery, or even using a woman to gain the upper hand-had been the one to be abandoned. Fortunately for Jon, their plan had held firm even if they had not accurately predicted the actual sequence of events. Stannis Baratheon had indeed hurried west, hoping to combine his meagre forces with the large army that Randyll Tarly had assembled. He had made sure to meet up with Lord Tarly well before
  
  the Targaryen armies could catch up with him. In order to gain time and increase his chances, the traitor had sacrificed a small group of his own men to fool both Euron Greyjoy and the Targaryen armies into believing that nothing was amiss.
  
  The small force that Jon and his allies had encountered when they valiantly charged over the border into the Stormlands had consisted of only a small part of the Baratheon army and approximately one hundred Ironborn. Upon learning that his ally had fled, Euron had also attempted to save the bulk of his army. He had left even fewer men behind in order to fool the Targaryen King, but these remaining Ironborn had put up a good fight. When he saw the first Baratheon soldiers throw down their weapons, Jon had changed direction and steered his mount towards the Ironborn. Together with his Kingsguard and a large part of his cavalry, he had drawn his sword and felt immense satisfaction in knocking out some of the men who belonged to the army responsible for the kidnapping of his beloved Queen. The clash had barely started when the entire Baratheon flank dropped their weapons and raised the white flag.
  
  The battle had ended much too soon to satisfy Jon's thirst for revenge. After his men had performed a body count, it became clear that less than three hundred men had been ordered to remain behind to face them. The woods where the small army had chosen to make their stand had temporarily disguised the fact that they were vastly outnumbered by Jon's forces. Rhaegal's frustration at finding such so few of their enemies had made Jon realise that he would not capture either Stannis Baratheon or Euron Greyjoy as soon as he had hoped.
  
  Davos muttered to himself and Jon looked up. "Something on your mind, Davos?"
  
  Davos scowled. "How long does Lord Tarly think he can make his King wait? Damned insubordination!"
  
  "At least he captured Stannis Baratheon alive, and as far as I can tell, he obeyed our command to avoid spilling too much blood. I'm sure there is a legitimate reason for this delay," Jon said, for once being the calming influence on Davos.
  
  "Ser Gerold went to check what's holding him up, your Grace, Lord Hand," Ser Arthur volunteered.
  
  Jon gazed at his friend. The Sword of the Morning looked magnificent in his full regalia. Even after a two-day march, leading the cavalry west across muddy fields to join up with Lord Tarly, the knight had somehow managed to keep his White Cloak nearly spotless. Jon, on the other hand, cursed the fact that he had left Renny and Monty behind. He had tried to clean the blood and mud stuck to his harness with a wet cloth as best he could before Ser Patreck had finally fetched a servant boy to assist him.
  
  Jon rose to his feet when Lord Tarly entered the room where he had been assigned to wait. Jon had removed part of his armour so that his arms and legs could move more freely, but sweat streamed across his brow nonetheless. He and his men had been kept waiting in a damp room of an abandoned keep that Lord Tarly had chosen because of its proximity to the Kingsroad where Tarly had set up camp.
  
  "Your Grace." The proud Lord bowed before Jon. "My apologies for the delay."
  
  Davos frowned when the Lord of Horn Hill did not drop to his knees to pledge fealty as expected; protocol demanded that he do this the first time he stood in the presence of his new King. Instead, Lord Tarly straightened his back, making it obvious that his height matched the King's. To emphasize the importance of the occasion, Davos used the long version when he began the courtesies. "May I introduce you to his Grace, King Aegon the Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk. My name is Lord Seaworth of the Crownlands, and I am the Hand of the King."
  
  "Your Grace, my Lord Hand, you stand in the presence of Lord Randyll of House Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill," a guard accompanying Lord Tarly responded.
  
  "Have you been given guest rights, your Grace?" Lord Tarly broke the silence.
  
  "Bread and salt arrived promptly, Lord Tarly. But please enlighten us first: was there a purpose to keeping us waiting? Why did you not bring the prisoner with you, as requested? I would have understood if fetching Lord Baratheon was the reason you could not meet your King upon his arrival. I cannot think of any other valid reason for such blatant discourtesy. I believe you will not mind if we resume our seat?" Jon made a show of arranging his cloak, and was slightly mollified when he detected a blush on the arrogant Lord's cheek after Jon had rebuked him for his deliberate faux pas.
  
  "Your Grace, I figured negotiations were in order before exchanging hostages. I was informed that my heir did not accompany you," Lord Tarly explained stiffly, gritting his teeth. It was obvious that the man was straining himself to stay polite.
  
  Jon bristled inwardly at the slight directed at Sam, but decided to play dumb. "Lord Samwell of House Tarly was needed in King's Landing to help govern the realm in my absence, my Lord. He is a member of my small council and, for his sake, I will give you a chance to correct your earlier behaviour and show me the respect I am due as your King. And perhaps you might be interested to know that your younger son, Lord Dickon, is his elder brother's guest and is enjoying his stay in the capital very much."
  
  Davos coughed, and Jon knew his Hand was discreetly chastising him for alienating their host and making the meeting more awkward than it had to be. "Both your sons are thriving in King's Landing, Lord Tarly. Your son Dickon's sword fighting skills have greatly improved under the tutelage of the Royal Guard. Nevertheless, I am sure he will be eager to return home soon." Davos' tone was as smooth and polite as if he was talking to the guest of honour at a social gathering.
  
  "When will that be? Am I to understand that Dickon has not started his journey home yet, my Lord Hand? How much longer does House Tarly need to content itself with hollow words and promises from yet another ruler?" Disappointment and outrage dominated Lord Tarly's outburst.
  
  "To whom House Tarly has not officially declared its fealty!" Davos countered, also fed up by now with their host's attitude.
  
  "I came here and did as I was told. I am no traitor!" Randyll Tarly defended his actions with fervour.
  
  Jon was done mincing his words. His raised his voice slightly and spoke with cold, regal authority. "Then hand Stannis Baratheon over to my Kingsguard and prove to me that he is indeed your prisoner. I do not apologize for criticizing your disrespect to my House, Lord Tarly. First, you have kept us waiting for no good reason; and then you desire us to concede to terms before granting us your fealty. This is not the behaviour of a loyal subject! I give you one last chance to act like a Lord worthy of leading a respected noble house, and order you to state your true intentions and allegiance this very instant!"
  
  "Your Grace must forgive me for being overly cautious!" Lord Tarly quickly changed tactics and abandoned his harsh attitude. "I admit to some reluctance in following the orders of yet another House that considers it their divine right to issue them. For decades, House Tarly has been overlooked and has been refused their just reward for services rendered. Neither House Tyrell nor the Crown have ever paid us the respect we are due. I merely wanted a chance to start off our relationship on the right foot."
  
  Jon frowned. "Then you have a strange way of doing that, Lord Tarly. A neutral observer might suspect you to be a traitor to the Crown. For all we know, you could be providing sanctuary to Stannis Baratheon and his forces!"
  
  "Or you could be a man for sale to the highest bidder who is still hedging his bets," Davos added.
  
  Jon sighed when Lord Tarly remained silent. "And here I was, all prepared to reward you for your help to my cause! Perhaps your eldest son was wrong to speak so highly of you. I sure as hell would not begrudge him if he damned you to the Seven Hells for your crimes against his person. I would choose Lord Samwell over you every single time!" He exchanged a glance with Davos.
  
  Davos coughed to shift Lord Tarly's focus to him. "What my King is trying to tell you is that if you swear fealty to him, then out of respect for his close friend and your eldest son, Lord Samwell of House Tarly, his Grace is willing to forgive and forget your inexcusable, insubordinate behaviour. You are fortunate that the King is his own man, for that is not the advice I would give him now that I have met you in person. My advice to his Grace would be to strip you of your title and grant it instead to your heir. I consider that a mild punishment for a noble Lord who tries to blackmail his King and refuses to swear fealty!" Davos made a covert apologetic gesture to his King. What had started out as a reasonable attempt to defuse the situation had evolved into Davos intimidating Lord Tarly to give in.
  
  The three men stared at each other for a long moment. Then the proud Lord at last dropped to his knees and swore fealty.
  
  Jon answered formally with the words that protocol dictated, but he tried to conceal how hollow they sounded to him on this occasion. How was it possible that some nobles had become so brazen as to think they could get away with such disrespectful behaviour? Had Robert Baratheon's lack of interest in ruling led these men to believe that they could actually manipulate their sovereign? Or was it Jon's youth that emboldened these men to try and force their own agendas on their King?
  
  Jon gestured for Lord Tarly to rise, thinking, What a father for Sam to grow up with! "Now, bring Lord Baratheon before me, and I promise that we will discuss the future of House Tarly afterwards. First of all, I will permit your son, Dickon, to return to Horn Hill if that is your wish. Samwell will remain in my services for the rest of his life, and will only leave my side for the time required to study at the Citadel."
  
  Jon saw the tension disappear from the proud Lord's eyes. He realised full well that, by his swearing fealty to his King, the Crown would be granted the authority to reinstate Lord Samwell as the heir to Horn Hill; yet Jon had just declared that he had no intention of doing so. Jon surmised that this was the most likely reason for the relieved expression on the elder Tarly's usually stern face.
  
  Things progressed quickly after that. Apparently Stannis Baratheon had been held prisoner nearby, for shortly after Lord Tarly sent his guard outside, the man soon returned with a subdued Stannis Baratheon, his hands and feet chained. Jon was not vindictive by nature, but this time he felt no compassion for the defeated man, who could only take small steps as he was pushed forward by the guards. They waited in silence until Lord Tarly realised that he was no longer needed and left the room with a surly expression on his face.
  
  "Lord Stannis of House Baratheon, we meet again." Jon greeted the man stiffly. It took all his self-control to project a cool confidence and authority, and to mask a need for revenge that threatened to make his entire body tremble in anger. He was relieved that he managed to keep his voice steady as he informed the defeated man of his fate. "I will not play games and will keep this short. You are hereby stripped of all your power and titles. You will travel back to King's Landing accompanied by my army. There, you will stand trial, but that will only be a formality. Your crimes are numerous and we have witnesses in abundance. The day after trial, at noontime, you will be executed on the steps in front of the Sept of Bailor. I will send out riders on the morrow to announce this event to the public-and many, I am certain, will come to witness it. The only courtesy I will grant you is the nature of your execution: either by fire, the sword, the axe, poison, or strangling. Have you any questions?"
  
  Stannis Baratheon, without blinking, asked flatly, "What is to become of my daughter? And of my wife?"
  
  Jon admired the man's composure. But then, Stannis Baratheon had been captured the day before, so he had had ample time to resign himself to his fate.
  
  Jon nodded to Davos, who replied, "Your daughter will marry Lord Domeric of House Newfort in approximately eight moons' time. In case your knowledge of the Northern houses is not up to date, Lord Domeric is the former Lord Bolton of the Dreadfort, the son of the late Lord Roose of House Bolton. Your wife will be allowed to choose where to live. King Aegon and Lord Newfort are both prepared to offer her their protection. I am certain that Lord Renly of House Baratheon, who will take over the leadership of the Stormlands and is now officially instated as the Lord of Storm's End, will also be willing to host your daughter should she wish to live there."
  
  Stannis had turned pale. "Your Grace-Lord Hand-I beg you to have mercy on my daughter! She is innocent of all this!"
  
  Jon held up a hand. "I am a Stark as much as I am a Targaryen, Stannis Baratheon." Jon would never again address the man as a Lord. There were other names that he would have wanted to call him, such as "fucking kinslayer" or "brainless coward," but he had promised Davos that he would remain polite. Instead, in the coldest tone he could manage, he continued, "So believe my next words, for though I have no reason to show you any kindness, I find myself willing to do so for the sake of your daughter, the Lady Shireen. It was her wish that she be betrothed to Lord Domeric of House Newfort, and I agreed on the condition that he proves himself worthy of her. I insisted on a twelve-moon betrothal, and, when my ultimatum expires, the wedding will proceed only if Shireen freely wishes it. She will be allowed to bring her personal guards and servants along with her to the North. Also, as my Hand mentioned earlier, Lord Newfort is willing to host Shireen's mother, your Lady Wife, indefinitely."
  
  Jon stood then. "Prepare the prisoner for travel. I need to speak to Lord Tarly one last time, and then I will partake of a light lunch and be ready to head out immediately afterward. Spread the word. We leave at noon."
  
  The guards left with their captive, and Jon gave orders to allow him and his companions a moment alone before asking Lord Tarly to rejoin them. He and Davos argued once more over the 'reward' that Jon wanted to bestow upon House Tarly. In the end they reached a compromise, although Davos still felt it was overly generous.
  
  When Davos opened the door, Ser Arthur stood on the other side, blocking the way of Lord Tarly. "We're ready for you now, Lord Tarly," Davos said jovially, allowing both men to enter the room. Ser Arthur took up his position behind Jon's chair.
  
  Jon gestured for Lord Tarly to sit down and waited patiently for him to do so. Then he said sternly, "Lord Tarly, before I begin, know that you owe a debt to your son, Lord Samwell, for each favour that I bestow upon you and your house. If ever I hear one disparaging word about him that can be traced back to you, I will strip House Tarly of its lands and rights. Are we clear on this?"
  
  Lord Tarly bowed his head slightly and spoke, through gritted teeth, in a slightly repentant tone. "A father can admit that he made a mistake, your Grace. I should have allowed Sam to study at the Citadel and sign away his rights to Horn Hill when he offered that solution. I see that now."
  
  "As long as we are clear on this matter," Jon repeated, keeping his tone stern and waiting until Lord Tarly nodded in assent. "Now to business: I will not oppose your will that declares Lord Dickon of House Tarly as the heir to Horn Hill. I promise to negotiate a betrothal on your behalf between him and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, and I will ensure that the dowry she brings with her will be a worthy one."
  
  "Furthermore, I will send Northern experts to study your mines." Jon held up a hand to prevent Lord Tarly from protesting, and continued, "These men will carry with them a royal decree that stipulates that all their findings will remain the property of House Tarly, regardless of what they discover. After speaking to Sam about this, I had my Master of Whispers conduct an investigation. It appears that, in the South, you only mine for shiny substances such as gold, copper, and tin." Jon paused briefly to observe Lord Tarly's reaction to this. The man simply nodded once.
  
  Thankful that the Lord of Horn Hill now knew better than to interrupt, Jon resumed his explanation. "In the North, men are more practical-for obvious reasons-and cherish every natural resource they can find a use for. It won't hurt, therefore, to have Northerners examine your mine. If they find materials that you believe to be of inferior quality, simply consider them goods to trade to regions that can use them. And, to further ease your mind, I will offer you the same tax deal that I offered House Lannister. You only owed a fair percentage to the Crown in proportion to your yield. Allow me to elaborate so that all parties are absolutely clear on this matter. No profit will mean that no taxes are due. On the other hand, if the mines start making large profits, a fair percentage of taxes directly calculated on the yield will have to be paid to the Crown."
  
  "I am all surprises, your Grace! " Lord Tarly's eyes had widened. He sounded sincere and even somewhat respectful. "When I attempted to interrupt you earlier, it was merely to thank you on behalf of my son. He and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell... they, uh... well, suffice it to say, my son will be your loyal subject and will consider himself forever in your debt
  
  Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement. "And you'll agree to have your mines examined? I'll let Sam handle this project until he has to leave for the Citadel. After that, you will have to deal directly with my Master of Coins, Lord Tyrion of House Lannister."
  
  "As you stated, there is no harm in trying to get these mines up and running," Lord Tarly said eagerly.
  
  Believing the hardest part to be over, Jon now looked at Davos, who stepped in. "Lord Tarly, you will understand that, due to today's events, his Grace must postpone appointing you as the official military commander of the armies of the Reach and the official military adviser to the Crown in time of war. He might reconsider this appointment after some time has passed and we have all learned to respect one another."
  
  Lord Tarly approached and knelt before Jon, bowing his head in total submission. "My King, you see before you a humbled man. I never should have doubted your intentions. I never should have dismissed the advice that both my sons sent me. I will gratefully accept any punishment that you deem fit, and will, from this day forward, be your most devoted servant. Feel free to assign me any task, regardless of its nature."
  
  At that exact moment, Jon's stomach growled. "And I'll arrange that a light lunch is brought in to you at once," Lord Tarly added quickly as he stood up.
  
  "Can your men also provide more wood for our soldiers' campfires?" Davos asked pleasantly. "The stew we brought for them tastes much better when heated properly."
  
  "I will attend to this matter at once, my King, Lord Hand." Lord Tarly bowed. As he reached the doorway, he turned and added, "I'll be there to see you off, my King!" Then the Lord of Horn Hill left the room, calling loudly for servants to attend him.
  
  Lord Randyll of House Tarly did indeed show up at Jon's departure and made a big show of saying goodbye to the King. Jon noticed that Tarly had replaced the term 'your Grace' with the more significant 'my King' and would use it at every opportunity. Lord Tarly also issued an open invitation to Horn Hill and expressed his desire to entertain the royal couple as guests of honour at the future wedding of his son Lord Dickon, the heir to Horn Hill. He promised that the wedding would take place as soon as arrangements could be made.
  
  "I thank you, Lord Tarly," Jon responded politely. "May I suggest that you hold the ceremony in the Sept of Baelor? If you do so, then only a summons to war could prevent me from attending with my Queen and our entourage." He nodded his head in salute and signalled to his forces to move out.
  
  Jon and the cavalry would travel ahead. The large contingent of foot soldiers was assigned to ensure the safe transport of the prisoners to the encampment, where all the Crown's armies would reconvene before either marching to King's Landing or returning home. Jon had made sure that everyone knew that the Baratheon prisoners were to be treated with respect, and that anyone who ignored this command would be harshly punished. He had asked for a list of the prisoners' names to be drawn up so that he could check later if they were all accounted for and had reached their destination unharmed and well.
  
  It was Ser Arthur's turn to ride to his King's left during the first leg of their journey. "Bit of an anti-climax, your Grace-all that training and preparation, just to intimidate an enemy. The Dornish and the Huntsmen had all the fun!"
  
  Jon looked at him. "Daenerys will be relieved when she receives the message that we suffered no casualties and minimised the bloodshed. Don't fret, my friend-we still have the war against the dead ahead of us! Your training will not be in vain. Those ice creatures are highly skilled and incredibly fast!"
  
  "I'll be standing next to you, my King. I'll be guarding your left, your weaker side." Ser Arthur winked.
  
  "And I would not wish it otherwise, Ser Arthur," Jon answered gravely, then fell silent. Sometime later, he asked, "You know these lands well, Ser Arthur. How long before we reach the encampment?"
  
  "In less than a day and a half, your Grace," Ser Arthur chuckled. "I wonder, how often will you ask me that question before we reach our destination? Perhaps I should have taken Ozzie up on that bet after all!"
  
  Interlude 51: Of prophesies and demons
  
  High up in the North, a dome shuddered from the force of the Great Other's wrath. The Night King tried to remain calm. Ever since he had let the Demon-or "God", as the mortals called it-merge with him to make him more powerful, things had started to go downhill.
  
  He had acquired the greensight, but when he and the Demon used it, they had discovered a young boy at least as powerful as he was, and so his newfound power had been neutralised. He had then acquired the power to manipulate his nemesis through the trees, but the young greenseer and his nemesis discovered this immediately and they stopped using that medium, so it was all for nothing. The Great Other had also granted him the ability to wield a sword more skilfully and swiftly than any human being, and the Night King had transferred as much of that skill as he could to his weaker brothers-only to learn that the prophesized saviour had also obtained otherworldly powers and could match his brothers stroke for stroke.
  
  The Night King had then prepared to cast the Great Other out of his icy body, but the demonic entity had whispered sweet words to him about defeating his nemesis with his own weapons. He had shown the Night King a vision of the fire-breathing, flying beasts and their enslavement by another. The Great Other had also promised that soon, the new mortal King, who was also the Night King's prophesised nemesis, would have only his magic sword when he returned to the North to engage him in battle. The fire-breathing beasts would no longer obey him.
  
  Together with the Great Other, the Night King had watched the one-eyed man's endeavours, and he had almost tasted victory when the white dragon fell and the green one was injured. But his hopes were crushed once again. To assuage his despair, the Great Other had seduced him with visions of blood magic and a great war in the far South that would decimate his enemy's forces.
  
  "Let those petty, weak humans fight amongst themselves first!" the demon entity had whispered in the Night King's mind.
  
  "How will that help us? Their corpses will be buried too far south for us to recruit them!" he had protested.
  
  "True, but you fail to see the big picture, my newfound ally and friend." The tempting voice in the Night King's head had persisted. "This is no minor conflict. This can turn into an all-out war that will potentially decimate our nemesis' forces."
  
  The Night King had nevertheless remained sceptical, and so the demon had revealed where he drew some of his power from. "Do not underestimate me, my second half! The blood shed by those mortals will leak into the soil, and I can harness it from there. I will use it to empower me. This Great Other will become even greater and, as a result, you, the feared Night King, will become even more fearsome!"
  
  How could the Night King blame himself for being seduced by this promise? The demon had not stopped there. Again, the Night King's mind had been flooded with enticing words and images. "With the additional power that I will harvest, I can create a large army of ice spiders. Giant ones!" The Great Other's voice had sounded ever so sweet.
  
  The Night King had studied the images of the large creatures with sharp spikes that could turn in all directions and skewer anything that they encountered. But he made no reply.
  
  Then the Great Other had made the argument that would have the most impact on the Night King. "The carnage in the south will help us more than you can imagine, my friend. Our magic powers will grow to unseen levels! We will be able to raise the dead who are buried over a much larger area than just these northern lands. Who knows, we may even be able to reach out over the entire continent of Westeros!"
  
  The Night King had kept watching while blood had been spilled, though it had not been enough; in fact, it had been insufficient to create the undefeatable army of ice spiders that he had been promised. The Great Other had promised him thousands upon thousands of victims. Unfortunately, though, someone had warned his nemesis. This mortal King that Was Promised had known that it was vital not to spill too much blood. At this rate, the Night King would never defeat the mortal King before he died of old age. And that was not an option.
  
  The Great Other had also not been unable to hide his disappointment, his frustration and rage manifested in the continuous shuddering of the dome. The Night King had wisely chosen not to say a word; he had thrown in his lot with this powerful demon, and it was too late to back out now. He needed the demon's magic to create more ice creatures since it was now nearly impossible to expand his army using living beings. The mortals who still lived on his side of the magical ice wall had learned that an army of White Walkers and dead slaves was coming for them, and had thus strengthened their defences.
  
  The one good thing that the Great Other had done was reveal to the Night King that the prophecy was more like a curse that linked his life force to his prophesized nemesis. The Night King had doubted this at first, but the more he had thought about it, the more it made sense; for, at the exact moment that the Prince that Was Promised had been born in the South, the Night King had re-awoken in the North and had crawled out from under the ice. He had been appalled to learn that thousands of years had elapsed while he had been imprisoned in the ice, slumbering and unaware.
  
  The Night King had immediately begun to build up a new force around him, as he had done several millennia ago. Thanks to a craven man, devoid of a conscience, who had willingly offered him his male offspring, the Night King had been able to create ice creatures in his own image, although they were much weaker versions of himself. Time was of the essence: if he did not defeat this nemesis, born to be his anti-force so that the universe could stay in balance, he was fated to die the moment that the mortal life of this prophesised Prince ended. For a being such as he was, that fate was unacceptable. It had been bad enough that he had been forced to hibernate for thousands of years. The only way he could avoid his fate would be to turn this mortal Prince into his servant and grant him eternal life as well. They would either both live or both perish. It would be harder than expected, for his prophesised nemesis had already risen from a simple Prince to become the King of a large dominion.
  
  When the Great Other had come to offer his help, the Night King had jumped at the opportunity. His powerful ally had helped him regain the ability to awaken the dead and make them do his bidding. But when his lust for power grew, he had fallen into a trap and allowed himself to be persuaded to merge his body with that of the Great Other. Thus, he was no longer master of his fate. The Great Other had successfully convinced him to go along with his own plans. All memory of a pact that would offer him a way out and ensure his survival was suppressed, and now he could only vaguely remember that this pact had once existed.
  
  The Great Other had only two goals: to destroy the living and to turn the Prince into an ice creature. When the Night King had argued that this would be impossible-the Prince, or rather, the King, was no blank slate for them to enslave and command-the alluring voice of the Great Other had whispered that he should never underestimate the powers of his demonic other half. Now that their minds had merged, the Night King could be considered a half-God, and what limits did a half- God have? Besides, the Great Other would never allow himself to be defeated by a mere mortal.
  
  The Night King could offer no counter-arguments, so he allowed the Great Other to take charge of all his movements for the time being, watching passively as the situation evolved. Even when he had lost half of the army that he had so painstakingly built, he had not stirred from his self-inflicted confinement. His brothers had revolted at first, but the Great Other had successfully seduced them with his otherworldly powers and sweet promises. Eternal life and unlimited power after their victory were promised to all who followed him.
  
  When the first ice spiders started crawling around, not a single brother spoke up against the Great Other. The Night King decided to bide his time and, for the time being, let the future be determined by his other half. What other option did he have left, anyway? The Pact had been all but forgotten. Its terms had been broken over time and had resulted in the birth of the new Saviour and his own re-awakening.
  
  Or was it the other way around, perhaps? Had his re-awakening resulted in the birth of that mortal saviour? Since all the parties necessary to reinstate the Pact no longer existed in this realm, it was nothing but a lost cause now; it no longer mattered that he could not remember the particulars of the Pact. He was still alive, and as long as the Great Other used his body as a host, he was immortal... was he not?
  
  aaa
  
  End notes:
  
  In the next chapter, they all reunite at the base camp. And, in the North, Rob receives several scrolls.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  All Seven Kingdoms
  Chapter 52: All Seven Kingdoms
  
  Summary:
  
  Jon takes the last steps to officially claim all of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  The interlude is a sample of some letters that Robb receives.
  
  Notes:
  
  A big thank you to my beta Lunaselene!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon spurred his horse after Ghost towards the part of the encampment where he was sure to find Dany. He ignored several men who tried to stop him, and Ser Lionel and Ser Oswell did their utmost to keep up with him. As soon as Jon saw Ghost standing next to his silver-haired Queen, who looked calm and well-rested, he slowed down and approached in a more dignified manner. A guard took hold of his horse's reins and halted it. Jon was pleased to discover that Dany stood within a circle of ten heavily armed soldiers of the Golden Company.
  
  Monty and Renny ran up with a crate to help Jon down from his horse. Jon had to admit that, because he was wearing his full harness, his squires' diligence was much appreciated. He held out his hands and they removed both of his gauntlets simultaneously. The guards parted to let him pass and Jon approached his Queen with huge strides. He had just enough presence of mind to recognize Harry Strickland and nod at him briefly to him before turning away and sweeping Dany into his arms.
  
  Their passionate embrace was a bit awkward, though, because Jon was careful not to let his body armour touch Dany's broken arm. "Cursed harness!" he whispered in her ear before he kissed her lips, ignoring the whistles and cheers that started up all around them. "How have you been, my love?"
  
  "Much better, now that you've returned to me in one piece!" Dany whispered back. Then she added conspiratorially, "Morning sickness."
  
  Jon's face lit up. "Perhaps the Red Priestess is not that crazy after all!"
  
  Dany shushed him and kept her voice low. "I'm trying not to get my hopes up; nerves could cause nausea as well. I'll consult with Maester Pylos the moment we arrive at the Red Keep." She gave him a peck on his cheek. "Thanks for sending me updates twice a day!"
  
  Jon kissed her once more. "You were never far from my mind, my love. I would want you to do the same should our roles be reversed." He added, "Viserion is at the Driftmark and is doing fine."
  
  Dany breathed a sigh of relief. "Somehow I knew that he was all right! The Driftmark-that's good, isn't it?"
  
  "Yes, we can visit him if he doesn't come to us soon," Jon replied. Someone tapped on his shoulder. Jon turned to see who it was before whispering to Dany, "I'm sorry, my love. Duty calls." He released her and positioned himself beside her as he greeted the Captain-General of the Golden Company properly.
  
  "You have achieved much since last we saw each other in the tavern in Pentos, your Grace." Harry Strickland bowed slightly. "It was the best chance encounter of my life. My company has thrived as never before! I have even received two offers to swallow up entire sellsword companies."
  
  "Then we've both benefited." Jon quickly imitated the commander's friendly demeanour. "I appreciate your unwavering loyalty, Strickland. It helped immensely to have an ally that I didn't need to worry about. You showed up when it counted and protected my Queen when I asked. Consider us even!"
  
  "Just so you know, your Grace: Prince Oberyn of House Martell and Nymeria Sand only left after I had successfully convinced them that I took the Queen's protection very seriously. If I am no longer in your debt, then perhaps there is room to ask for a small favour sometime in the future? If ever your dragons fancy another trip to Essos...?" Harry Strickland's voice trailed off and he looked at Jon, clearly hoping for a positive response.
  
  "I'll make sure to let you know. Both of us can probably accompany them. But not before things have settled down at our end. It will probably take a year or more before that would happen," Jon warned him.
  
  "Just send word first, your Grace. And, before I forget, that is truly impressive body armour! Shall we talk more later?" Harry Strickland's eyes travelled over Jon's armour and lingered on the Targaryen sigil with the direwolf incorporated in it. He smiled as Jon nodded his assent, then said, "I shall now take my leave now so you may speak with the express messenger from Bear Island."
  
  "Bear Island?" Jon frowned, hoping that the man was not bringing dire news from Cersei Lannister or, the Gods forbid, news that the Night King had already begun the Great War.
  
  "Yes, your Grace. The man is a Northerner, loyal to House Mormont, who claims he came straight from Winterfell and is most anxious to deliver his message into your hands. I spoke with him a few times. He claims to have been a friend of Benjen Stark as a child. Goes by the name of Rickard Woodfoot," Strickland revealed.
  
  Jon relaxed visibly, but did not let on whether the name of the messenger meant anything to him or not. "Thank you for the heads up, Strickland, and for keeping my Queen safe. I'll find time to speak with you again before you depart."
  
  Strickland gave Jon a military salute and gestured for the messenger to be allowed to enter the protective circle. Then he strode over to Ser Gerold so that the latter and his men could be officially relieved of their duties as interim Queensguard.
  
  Dany, who had stood to the side to allow Jon and Strickland some privacy, returned to Jon's side. The messenger bowed respectfully before both of them upon finally being allowed in the presence of King Aegon.
  
  "Your Graces," he began respectfully. "Rickard of House Woodfoot of Bear Island, in the capacity of express messenger on an assignment sent by Prince Robb of House Stark. This message is to be placed only in King Aegon's hands." He handed the thick message to Jon, who promptly handed it to Dany.
  
  "Hold this for me, please, Daenerys. I have to have these vambraces removed first-they're chafing a bit." His eyes twinkled and Dany could barely suppress a smile.
  
  As if by magic, Jon's two squires appeared before him and his vambraces were removed simultaneously. Dany made a show of returning the message to him while Rickard Woodfoot watched closely, frowning. Jon studied him as he accepted the letter from Dany without glancing at it. "Rickard Woodfoot of Bear Island, do you happen to know what this letter contains?"
  
  The messenger's expression shifted quickly from slightly annoyed to formal. "Prince Robb of House Stark gave me leave to inform your Grace that it contains a delicate matter that he wishes to discuss with his Grace at greater length than a scroll would allow him to do. I have been ordered to assure you that there is no cause for alarm. Prince Robb of House Stark would, however, be much obliged if you could send him posthaste a short scroll by raven containing your reaction to his news. I am also to wait in case you wish to send a more detailed reaction by express messenger. I am, of course, at your service, your Grace." Rickard gulped for air when he finished his speech.
  
  "Thank you, Woodfoot. I am certain that Prince Robb will be eager to hear from me." Jon toyed with the scroll, still staring at the now sweating messenger. "Bear Island, you say? And you've come straight from Winterfell?"
  
  "By way of King's Landing, your Grace. I stopped at the Red Keep first. Prince Stark-I mean, Prince Benjen of House Stark-was kind enough to lend me a fresh horse and an escort."
  
  "Good." Jon now turned his full attention to the scroll, studying the dark grey wax seal. Without looking up, he asked casually, "By any chance, is Lady Mormont still a guest at Winterfell? Lady Dacey of House Mormont?" Jon looked up now, raised an eyebrow, and suppressed a smile, not wishing to offend the courier, who apparently took his profession very seriously.
  
  The messenger, astonished and then embarrassed, tried to speak in a neutral tone as he asked, "Your Grace mayhap has already received a raven?"
  
  "Aegon?" Dany put her hand on Jon's arm and gazed at him curiously.
  
  Jon returned her gaze, knowing that she would instantly recognize the mischief in his eyes which would reveal that he had been toying a bit with the messenger. "We'll read it in private," he promised her quietly before addressing the messenger in his usual tone. "Rest assured, Rickard Woodfoot, I will send a raven to my cousin before dusk. Would be so kind as to stay with us one more day? I intend to compose a lengthier reply that you can put into the hands of either Prince Robb or of Lady Dacey-whomever you find first. Hands only, of course."
  
  Jon waited until the messenger nodded and left them, and then gestured to Ser Gerold and Davos to approach. "The Queen and I need to read a private letter. Permit us some time to do so, since it is rather long." He winked at Davos as he held up the message. "After I have refreshed myself, I need to speak to you, Davos. Please await my summons. In the meantime, perhaps you can peruse the other messages that have arrived? You can give me a short summary later. It is obvious that the Dornish are not here yet. Any word on when to expect them?"
  
  Davos shook his head and began walking with the royal couple to their tent. "Only what we already know. They will arrive either late this evening or early tomorrow morning. You will be informed the moment our scouts spot them." He studied Jon from head to toe and seemed satisfied with what he saw. "You might wish to have your squires help you remove your harness first, son. I'll use the time to pick up the messages that the Queen was kind enough to guard with her life in your tent. If you ask nicely, perhaps Her Grace can already fill you in on their contents. If you have the time to address such tedious matters, that is."
  
  Jon looked down at his body armour and sighed. He turned to Dany. "Whoever invented full body armour never considered what an obstacle it can be to enjoying married life!"
  
  After Jon's squires had removed his armour and left his tent with Davos, Dany said to Jon, "I never saw anyone being unharnessed as efficiently as you were just now, my love! You should count your blessings instead of complaining about what others would kill to have. And your squires-have you noticed how well-behaved and efficient they now are? Yet you take them for granted!"
  
  Instead of replying, Jon grabbed Dany's bottom and drew her closer. "I'll be mindful of your arm," he whispered, "but I need to possess you now!"
  
  Dany quite happily allowed Jon to press their bodies close together. Her eyes, though, wandered from his to the still unopened scroll that lay on a small stool. "Aren't you curious about that letter?" she could not help asking.
  
  Without further ado, Jon devoured her lips and lifted her skirt up. "The key to being a good ruler is defining your priorities," he murmured. "That letter won't go anywhere. Thank the Gods that you're not wearing breeches! Now, help me before we lose even more precious time!"
  
  Some time later, Dany lay in Jon's arms as her fingers traced the relaxed smile on his face. He turned his head toward her and opened his mouth, only to close it again.
  
  "What's on your mind, Aegon? I thought you enjoyed our coupling?" Dany's right hand cupped his chin so he could not turn away from her.
  
  "I did," Jon assured her. "So much, that it made me remember how much I missed you the past few nights and how worried I've been about you. Are you truly well, Dany? Have you suffered any nightmares? Or felt unsafe? I despised myself for not being here to help you during these first nights after your ordeal!"
  
  Dany studied him closely. "I am coping reasonably well. I trusted you to be out there dealing with Euron Greyjoy so he can never come after me again. Oberyn helped me feel safe, and I have never had so many guards around me as I have these past few days! Just go ahead and ask me what you really want to, Aegon."
  
  Jon frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."
  
  "Weren't you worried about my state of mind because of... other things? We hardly had a chance to talk before you left to fight Stannis Baratheon." Dany gently caressed Jon's face. "I understand, Aegon. I am not angry at you, nor do I resent what you did. I know that you had no choice but to leave me behind. You had to save Rhaegal and yourself. Had I been in your position, I probably would have done the same thing."
  
  Jon released a shuddering breath and kissed Dany's hair. "I was supposed to protect you, Dany, and I failed. What kind of a husband am I if I can't protect my own wife? Not even with the help of a mighty dragon?"
  
  "You didn't fail me," Dany said emphatically. "You told me that Rhaegal was nearly blind and was panicking. I understand, Aegon. You made a tactical retreat so that you could regroup. You had a plan, and you came back for me! What matters is that we are both alive and our enemy is defeated. There is no doubt in my mind that my well-being is of the utmost importance to you."
  
  Her sincere tone struck a chord with Jon, and his heart felt a bit lighter as he asked, "Do you truly believe that?"
  
  "I do!" Dany curled one of Jon's dark locks around her finger. "What good would it have done us if you had remained and allowed yourself to be caught as well? I believe that you made the wisest possible decision, given the circumstances. I could not ask more of you or of Rhaegal, for that matter." She smiled. "And I truly believe that I have the best husband that a woman could wish for! It is time you stopped chastising yourself and start believing that of yourself as well"
  
  Jon, unable to speak, kissed Dany gently instead. It took some time before he finally released her lips. Gazing into her eyes, he whispered, "For your sake, I will strive to become the man that you believe me to be. This I promise!" He stroked Dany's face. "Now, it is your turn to make a promise. Promise me that you will let me know if you ever have trouble dealing with the memories of what happened to you."
  
  Jon suddenly withdrew his hand from Dany's face so he could study her expression closely. His voice was agitated as he said, "Dany, please assure me that I have not forced myself on you just now, when you might still perhaps be unwilling? I know that fucking Euron Greyjoy placed his vile hands on you! Please tell me that you were not revolted at my caresses tonight!"
  
  "Shhhh, Aegon!" Dany soothed him. "You are seeing problems where none exist! I enjoyed our coupling very much-couldn't you tell? I missed you too and wanted you just as badly. And I detest our lack of privacy here-it was so difficult to suppress my moans!" She chuckled. "In better conditions, I would already be persuading you to go for round two!"
  
  "Truly?" Jon sent a silent thank you to the Gods for gifting him with Dany. "No lingering bad memories of Greyjoy's filthy hands on you?"
  
  Dany caressed Jon's cheek while she looked deep into his eyes. "Euron Greyjoy barely touched me. He was nothing but big words and anticipation! Look... we promised each other honesty, remember?" She waited until Jon nodded. "All right, then. I will repeat my words one last time even if they shouldn't be necessary. I ardently desired, and truly enjoyed our coupling! And you only hurt my arm once, but not too much."
  
  Dany grinned to let Jon know that her last comment was a joke. "Now, I'd like to talk about something else, if you don't mind. And a good husband such as you would want to oblige your wife, am I right? I'd like to ask you something." She released his face as she said this.
  
  "Alright." Jon was relieved when he noticed the mischief in Dany's eyes.
  
  Dany reached out with her good arm and grabbed the thick letter that remained unopened. She waved it in front of Jon's face. "Tell me whether I understood correctly your earlier lesson on ruling. One: You consider yourself a good ruler; and two: I am your top priority, and thus more important than any express messenger, even one who has traveled for several moons to reach you, bearing a message from your favourite cousin. Am I right?"
  
  Jon playfully tapped Dany's nose before plucking the scroll out of her hand. "True only if the messenger carries news that Varys has already whispered in my ear earlier. He informed me about this right before we set off for the Stormlands. I didn't think Robb would deem this matter important enough to warrant sending an express messenger across half of Westeros. I had planned to inform you when his letter arrived with his news, and I was certain that what Varys relayed to me was no idle gossip. Besides, I had more important matters to attend to: I was in the midst of preparing for two wars!"
  
  Dany pouted at him and protested sweetly, "Aegon, you're doing it again!"
  
  Jon chuckled. "I'm sorry, my sweet-no more unintentional stalling, then! Here goes. I'll bet that this letter is Robb's means of asking my consent for his betrothal to Lady Dacey of House Mormont."
  
  Dany took a moment to absorb this news. "The fierce lady warrior that Arya mentioned in her last scroll? The one who argues with Cousin Robb all the time?" she asked with barely contained excitement.
  
  Jon nodded and trailed his fingers along her right arm. "The very one. Apparently, my eldest cousin has a rather strange way of courting the ladies."
  
  Dany's face took on a pensive expression. "No betrothal between House Stark and House Tyrell, then."
  
  Jon heard the unspoken question in Dany's statement. He lifted her chin and looked her in the eye. "I took your advice. I confess to checking some of your deductions first, particularly regarding the Tarlys. I talked about the matter with Sam and, after that, I was convinced of the brilliance of your proposal. Your intuition proved correct! Sam confirmed that Lord Dickon has had feelings for Lady Margaery for a long time now. Also, after you opened my eyes, I studied the behaviour of the Lady in question as she was dancing with Lord Dickon; and I am impressed by your superior mindreading skills where a lady's feelings are concerned! It is evident that Margaery also has a preference for Dickon. I also hope that you are correct in stating that the only reason that she has not yet completely fallen for him is that she believes that nothing would come of it; and so she has kept her feelings in check out of self-preservation."
  
  Dany nodded. "I still believe this."
  
  Jon smiled. "Then I'm glad. It was a very fortunate discovery, as you can well imagine. You should have seen the reaction of Lord Randyll, Dickon's father. When he finally appeared at our first official meeting, he almost committed treason by refusing to kneel. After he swore his fealty through gritted teeth, I said that I would assist with brokering that betrothal for his house; and then that proud, stern Lord couldn't bow and scrape deeply enough, and vowed that I could ask any service of him, no matter how demeaning! Can you picture the mighty Lord Tarly on his knees, admitting that he was wrong about Sam, and apologizing? We have already received an invitation to the wedding when there is not even an actual betrothal in place yet! Also, it took only one sentence from me to persuade him to hold the wedding ceremony here in King's Landing."
  
  Dany's entire face lit up. She rested her head on Jon's chest again and stroked his hip absently. "So it all works out, then. A Stark-Mormont wedding and a Tyrell-Tarly one. I gather you plan to discuss terms with Lord Willas? Please keep in mind the dates for the wedding ceremony, would you? I would very much like to attend both weddings."
  
  Jon tightened his grip on Dany and pulled the furs around her a bit higher so she would not feel cold. She adjusted her body until she lay half on top of him, their legs entangled. Jon let her take the lead. She had proven to him earlier that she had could be creative in bed despite the limitations of having an arm in a sling.
  
  Jon sighed contentedly as Dany softly kissed his chest. He continued, "That is my intention. Lord Willas can bring our terms to his father as soon as he and I have reached an agreement. It won't be much of a negotiation, though; we just have to agree upon an amount for Margaery's dowry. House Tyrell cannot object to the betrothal itself since I took away their right to betroth their kin, and House Tarly is ecstatic." Then he added, "But please keep these plans a secret for now. The two main people involved have not yet been informed of them. Lord Tarly has agreed to delay spreading the word, under threat of my withdrawing support for the match."
  
  "Speaking of young couples, let's read Robb's letter now and send him that raven soon," Dany proposed.. "Imagine if it were us, waiting for more than a moon to find out whether we were allowed to marry! I still remember how hard it was for me before you declared-"
  
  Jon covered Dany's lips with his to silence her. He quickly released her mouth, though, when he felt her struggle to put some distance between them. Before she could speak, he said, "You promised to forgive and forget, Dany. You told me that was all in the past. It is high treason to lie to your King!" he added lightly, in an attempt not to spoil the mood.
  
  "I was not mentioning it to chastise you, but to make you realize that further delay might make Robb and Dacey suffer longer." Dany carefully wriggled out of Jon's arms and urged him to sit up straight. "Now, be a good sovereign and think of the wellbeing of your subjects. Duty calls, my King! Stop trying to make love to your beautiful, kind paragon of a wife and start reading your cousin's letter!" She added teasingly, "I will not let you touch me again until you release that poor young man from his suffering and send a raven to Winterfell."
  
  "So you counsel me to agree to this betrothal without reading this letter first?" Jon pretended to sound aghast. "But what if Varys had it wrong and Robb is asking for a betrothal to a lowly servant of House Mormont?" He failed to keep his tone serious enough to make Dany believe he actually entertained that possibility.
  
  Dany thrust the message into Jon's hands again. "Just read his letter already, or I will! If you don't, I will tell that handsome cousin of yours exactly how cruel you were when he needed you most. And don't think I wouldn't dare! I would do it the very moment I finally get to meet him!" However, she kept her tone light as well.
  
  "All right, you win! You sound as domineering as Sandor's wildling wife, from how he describes her. Relentless, manipulating, and threatening to withhold affection until poor Sandor has no choice but to give in to her demands!" Jon gave Dany a searing kiss before breaking the large wax seal of Robb's letter. His eyes quickly scanned the neatly written words.
  
  Jon suddenly gasped, and Dany, who was awkwardly adjusting her clothes with her functioning arm, dropped the sleeve of her dress. She looked up at him and, seeing his shocked expression, asked, "What is the matter? Is everyone all right?"
  
  Jon nodded. "Yes, just give me a moment." He continued reading as fast as humanly possible. He only realised how much he had kept Dany in suspense when he heard her release a deep breath as he began to explain. "Robb got Dacey pregnant! They now have no choice but to marry! I can only hope that Robb will come to love her." Jon's voice was full of compassion for his cousin.
  
  Dany put her hand on his arm, leaned in, and kissed him. "It can't be that bad. Let me read it." Jon gave her the letter and a heavy silence reigned until Dany finally put it down. "You men are all stupid creatures!" she chastised Jon. "I believe Robb told you at least five times in this one missive just how much he loves her, but neither you nor he realises it!" She handed the letter back to Jon. "Here, read it again and notice how he fights for her honour and puts her interests before his own. It is actually very endearing!"
  
  Jon looked at the letter hesitantly. "I reckoned that was just his Stark honour speaking?"
  
  Dany shook her head. "Those words speak of love as much as of honour; they express mutual respect and admiration. You have to read between the lines. How often does Robb refuse to blame Dacey for anything, no matter how minor?" She leaned forward. "Aegon, do me a favour and send them both our heartfelt congratulations. And, as soon as you have time, write letters to your uncle Ned and to Robb. Don't keep them in suspense! This should be a happy occasion-the heir to the North makes a politically advantageous marriage and marries his chosen lady for all the right reasons! Even better, his future wife has already proven that she can provide the North with new blood for its next generation. So go on and send that raven!"
  
  Jon pulled his tunic over his head. "I promise to as soon as I am decent." He put on some ordinary clothes and prepared to leave, then turned back to Dany. "I'll send a female servant in to help you dress. I'll be back before you know it!"
  
  Dany smiled. "Take your time, Aegon. Just promise me that you won't let anyone distract you and drag you to some meeting or celebration before the raven has safely left for Winterfell. And please, think carefully before you write. Make it crystal clear to Robb that you are giving him your consent and unconditional support, and that both of us are happy with the outcome, all aspects of it!"
  
  "Don't fret. I'll let Davos read my letter before I send it and will ask for his stamp of approval.." Jon bent down, gave Dany a quick kiss, and left the tent. He hurried to the area in the camp where the ravens were kept.
  
  As expected, Davos intercepted him before he got there. "Varys' birds were right?" the older man asked, noticing Jon's excited face.
  
  "Only partly," Jon replied, proceeding to whisper the additional news in Davos' ear. Davos grinned "From now on, never let it be said that the Stark men have ice running through their veins! First, Prince Benjen starts acting like a young fool in love, and now this!" Then he asked seriously, "You intend to give your cousin your consent?"
  
  Jon nodded. "Of course, before all hell breaks loose. I never thought that I would say these words, but thank the Gods that Princess Catelyn returned to King's Landing instead of Winterfell!"
  
  "As soon as she receives your royal consent to leave Court, she will be on the first ship to White Harbour. Mark my words!" Davos grinned. "Come on, lad. Let's craft that letter in such a way that nobody dares to reprimand Prince Robb. How about making it appear that he had been following your orders all along? But keep silent about the pregnancy, and phrase it so that only the happy couple understands that you are congratulating them on more than a royally approved betrothal. And let's send Ned Stark a coded message, asking him to play along and pretend that he was in on things from the start. This way, nobody loses face!"
  
  Jon grinned. "I might need your help to get that letter written exactly right."
  
  Davos chuckled. "That's kind of you to say. Very charitable to allow an old man to feel a bit useful from time to time! It only makes you a better ruler, son."
  
  " 'A better ruler.' " Jon smiled to himself as he remembered Dany saying the same words earlier as she lay in his arms.
  
  When the letter was written and the raven was finally on its way to Winterfell, Davos convinced Jon to sit down for a while at an abandoned campfire. The grass was still moist from a recent rain shower, so Jon's Kingsguard quickly brought two small stools over. Davos threw a few pieces of dry wood on the dwindling fire it to rekindle the flames. It crackled in a welcoming way, and Jon chose to sit closer to it than usual. Davos studied his face. "Any news of Viserion?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "Nothing recently. You already know he sought sanctuary in the caves that he grew up in, and has healed considerably. Rhaegal and I will contact him again later tonight. I intended to wait for Euron Greyjoy to arrive so that Rhaegal can send his brother the image of his defeated foe. Rhaegal will tell Viserion that if he shows up, I promise to allow him to decide how his torturer will be executed."
  
  Davos frowned. "Think you will be able to live with that decision, son?"
  
  Jon met Davos' gaze with unwavering determination. "I might even do worse to him than Viserion will! You were there when Melisandre whispered some things to us that Daenerys either omitted or blocked out. Those were not just idle threats, but acts he intended to carry out! It will take all of my self-control not to hack him to pieces myself when he is brought before me. And don't forget that through our bond with Rhaegal, I experienced some of the pain and torment that that fucking Greyjoy inflicted on Viserion." He shrugged. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Davos; but yes, I am quite sure that I will be able to live with this decision."
  
  Davos nodded gravely. "That's all I wanted to hear, son; I was merely looking out for you. I wanted to save you from sleepless nights, were it not the case. I don't really mind myself-Greyjoy has this coming. I've been a sailor and a captain myself. Those poor sods he calls his crew!" Davos shook his head. "Do what you feel is right, son. I will have your back."
  
  Jon was pleased with his Hand's reaction, for he hated to disappoint him. "Thank you, Davos. One day I will find a way to reward you adequately for all your support and guidance."
  
  Davos chuckled. "I have all the reward that I need right here, son! And, as far as I know, you are doing your utmost to produce another human being for me to cuddle and smother with my fatherly affection... or should I call it grandfatherly, in this case? I might have overheard Melisandre..." Davos studied Jon carefully.
  
  Jon smiled nervously. "Yes, it is a possibility that we are beginning to entertain."
  
  "You have my good wishes and support, whatever the outcome," Davos answered heartily.
  
  "Yes, I know." Jon nudged the other man's shoulder. "Do you know what popped into my mind just now?"
  
  "Do I want to know?"
  
  Jon stared into the fire. "Do you remember the first time that we travelled to the Wall? A few days into our journey, you approached me and sat down next to me in front of a small fire, just like this one."
  
  Davos smiled, remembering all too well the scene that Jon was describing. When you were eleven or twelve, and broody as hell? I remember you sharing your meat with me."
  
  Jon's dark eyes were filled with emotion. "I remember being very confused and hurt. I had learned of my parentage a few days earlier and didn't know how to deal with it. And then a certain sea captain, without having an inkling of who I was, did everything he could to make this child, whom he barely knew, feel better. I've never quite forgotten that night! That was the first time that I experienced the famed 'Davos magic.' I just didn't realise what it was back then."
  
  Davos put his hand on Jon's knee for a moment. "I could return the compliment, son. You had a way of drawing people in, even at such a young age. Many swore fealty to you because they liked you and saw someone they could believe in. Many swore fealty to the boy, to the young man, and not so much to the name or the heritage. Prince Oberyn is a good example; Loras, Lady Brienne... and now that I think of it, Harry Strickland as well."
  
  Jon shook his head but smiled softly, his mind still in the past. "Harry Strickland was merely a stroke of luck."
  
  Davos shook his head as well. "I disagree. He could have laid a trap for you in Pentos. He could have murdered you and taken Blackfyre for his own! But, instead, the two of you had one honest conversation in a tavern, and you gained a loyal ally for life. That is not a stroke of luck. That is proof of the easy way you connect with all kinds of people, be they highborn, servants-or even slaves!" He winked at Jon, who blushed.
  
  "That only happened once," Jon protested, cursing the fact that he still blushed quite easily after moons of being a married.
  
  Davos grinned. "A little bird whispered to me that Clea and Ornella still give you little handmade trinkets each time you show your face at the Driftmark" Then he said, "I believe I will have to come up with a name for the phenomenon. Just as you claim that I possess 'Davos magic', I need a term to define the effect that you have on people." He paused for a moment before exclaiming, "Hells, I can't think of anything suitable! I'll have to ask Sam. He'll have no trouble coming up with an appropriate term."
  
  "Sam." Jon sighed deeply. "He'll leave soon, you realise?"
  
  "You have a dragon, son. You can visit and make sure that the Archmaesters know the consequences if they fail to treat our boy as the prodigy that he is! If I hear one whisper about them treating him as a lowly acolyte, and impeding his studies for no good reason-"
  
  "Then I'll threaten to reorganise their entire institution! The diary of my father, which I showed you before, has an entire chapter dedicated to the potential threat that the Citadel poses if they have bad intentions. The Maesters advise most of the noble houses of Westeros, and my father warned that they can manipulate the heads of these noble houses into pursuing their own agendas, starting wars, or doing anything else that they wanted to do. If they really were driven by the wrong motives, they could create havoc in the known world. I intend to curb their influence, one way or another!"
  
  Davos looked pensive. "Hmmm, that's heavy stuff, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility, I grant you. If there is one Maester whom you can trust with your eyes closed, it is our Sam. Talk to him about this. He is in the best position to study the motives of the Archmaesters and to make sure that they are still above politics and as neutral as they ought to be."
  
  "Poor Sam, another difficult task for him! You must help me look out for him. We must make sure that we don't work him too hard-he is incapable of saying 'no' whenever we give him additional assignments." Jon took another log from a small stack and tossed it onto the fire.
  
  Davos evaded a few sparks and chuckled. "He certainly is. But then, he thrives and focuses better if he has to deal with several things at once. He is one peculiar specimen, our Sam!"
  
  Jon noticed Ser Arthur and Ser Patreck approach, which he found strange since he knew that Ser Oswell and Ser Lionel were standing behind him. Then he realized why upon seeing Dany peek out from behind Ser Lionel. She had made sure that Jon couldn't spot her until she was closer. Jon gave her a welcoming smile.
  
  "You didn't return, so I thought I would seek you out myself, my King." Dany smiled at both men.
  
  "Oh, to be young and in love!" Davos chuckled, gesturing to Renny, who was hovering nearby, to bring another stool. "Please sit down, Daenerys. I'd like to keep both of you company for a while, if I may. Let an old man look upon a happy couple and reminisce a bit about days gone by."
  
  Dany sat down next to Davos and kissed his cheek. "I missed you too, Davos. Now spill: exactly how reckless was my husband while he was away?"
  
  The next morning in the royal tent...
  
  "She survived another suicide attempt," Davos confirmed, handing Jon a raven from House Mormont. His keen eyes noticed how the furs were arranged on the floor by the small cots, but he kept his expression neutral. He did not want to reveal how such a small detail had improved his mood. If the young couple was happy, then he was as well-it was that simple. He was also thankful that he still had time to share his news before the formal audience for their Dornish visitors began.
  
  Jon was caught up studying the exact wording of the message, so Daenerys was the first to react to Davos' words. "I feel for Cersei," she sighed. "She will never walk again. It is an unfortunate thing to say, but it may have been better for her had she succumbed to her wounds instead. I can't imagine what her life will be like now. Perhaps we should allow her to return to Casterly Rock?"
  
  Jon took Dany's hand. "Robert Baratheon warned me not to do that. You know that Varys found irrefutable proof that Cersei had plotted at least two of the assassination attempts that took place shortly after we were married. If she can convince men to do her bidding while she is imprisoned in the far North, what havoc might she wreck when surrounded by a kingdom full of people loyal to the Lannister name?"
  
  "I have to agree with him." Davos sounded apologetic. "I shall inform Lord Kevan of House Lannister."
  
  Dany shook her head. "I could never imagine wanting to end my own life! Lady Cersei must be miserable, Aegon."
  
  "Then we'll make her life as comfortable as possible. Provide her with books and-I don't know-a few other things she likes? But under no circumstances shall I allow her to live at Casterly Rock, Dany!"
  
  "How about sending her to an island with a warmer climate? Would you consider Tarth?" Davos suggested.
  
  "Her guards would have to be women who are extremely loyal to us," Jon said, but he was still sceptical. "I'm not sure that Tarth can fulfil that requirement. However, Dorne would be a better option. They have no love lost for the Lannisters, so Cersei will be unable to sweet- talk them into doing her bidding." Jon turned to Davos. "I don't want to make a hasty decision, so perhaps Dany and I should briefly visit Bear Island when we go north for the wedding. We would see for ourselves how Cersei Lannister is being treated there."
  
  "You intend to travel north for the wedding?" Davos exclaimed.
  
  "Of course we will attend!" Jon exchanged glances with Dany, who nodded enthusiastically. "But it would just be Dany and me. I reckon we only need to fly less than half a day to cover between Winterfell, where we shall be staying, and Bear Island. Even if the dragons fly at only half their usual speed to, uh, you know-make things easier for Dany."
  
  Davos noticed the young couple smile at each other, and warned, "You will have to convince Ser Gerold that the Northerners can assign enough loyal, capable guards to guard both of you. How many sennights do you still have left to convince him?"
  
  "Tell him that there are four direwolves at Winterfell that can take turns guarding us," Dany advised her husband. "I do so look forward to attending a wedding in the famed Godswood of Winterfell!"
  
  Davos intervened once more. "If I may offer another word of advice? If you wish your Lord Commander to permit you to fly north with no reservations, and without insisting that you delay your voyage until he has sent some guards ahead by ship, then do not inform him that you also intend to visit other places while you're there. At least, not until the very last minute."
  
  "To be honest, Davos, I was also thinking of making a quick stop at Castle Black," Jon admitted. "But I would refrain from going beyond the Wall as long as Sandor and Tormund are willing to meet me there." Then, without waiting for a reaction, Jon took Dany's hand. "Do not worry, my sweet. Ser Gerold may grumble and protest all he wants, but we will wear him down! At the end of the day, after all, we are his superiors. Both of us will fly north in time for Robb's wedding-provided you remain in good health, that is."
  
  "I will do everything I can to ensure that I am fit to travel," Dany assured him. "Besides, the wedding won't take place for two moons at least, and my arm will be fully healed by then. Princess Catelyn will need more than a moon to travel to Winterfell, and then she'll want to oversee the final preparations." Dany smiled and squeezed Jon's hand to express her delight over the upcoming journey.
  
  Jon realised that their trip would be particularly special for Dany because she had never been to the North. All her knowledge of it came from books and Jon's tales. He kissed her cheek before addressing Davos once again. "What other news, Davos?"
  
  "You received a raven from your uncle, Prince Eddard," Davos replied without missing a beat.
  
  "He can't know of the Dacey and Robb matter yet," Jon commented as he accepted the tiny scroll and broke the Stark seal. He read the letter and furrowed his brow. "Uncle Ned assures me that all is well in the North, and says that he intends to arrange a match for Robb with a Northern lady. He claims that being back in the North has made him rethink his options. He hopes that I will not be too disappointed because he has decided not to unite his house with House Tyrell; instead, he favours a union with House Mormont. He hasn't talked to Robb yet, but asks that I do not interfere." Jon's tone revealed his growing disbelief at what he was reading.
  
  "Either he is playing you, or he is being played masterfully by the young couple." Dany shook her head.
  
  "I wager it is the second case." Davos could not keep the edges of his mouth from curling upwards as he said this.
  
  Jon caught on and burst out laughing. "Oh dear! Whatever will Uncle Ned think of the raven I just sent? I wish I could see his face as he reads my suggestion that he pretend it all to be his idea! My message will destroy any illusions he might have harboured. He will no longer be able to congratulate himself on coming up with the brilliant idea of a Stark/Mormont alliance. Instead, he will have to content himself with claiming false credit for it."
  
  "I hope he doesn't take it out on Robb once he realizes that he and Dacey have gone behind his back and asked for your support." Dany looked rather worried now.
  
  "How do you think her Excellency, Princess Catelyn, will react?" Jon asked her.
  
  "Oh, what I wouldn't give to witness your Aunt Catelyn's reaction when she learns that her son must marry in a few moons' time or else her first grandchild will be a bastard-a Snow! You should have heard her lecture my ladies-in-waiting about avoiding all contact with bastards. They are evil, lustful, and they covet all the things they can't have!" Dany laughed as she said this.
  
  Jon frowned. "And all the sins that these bastards are supposedly born with shall magically disappear into the void when a King legitimizes such an evil creature? How the hells does she justify scheming for Gendry to become her good-son?"
  
  "That would imply that you believe she is capable of using logic," Dany pointed out. "Don't worry, I'm sure that she will simply conjure up a passage from the Seven-Pointed Star that will explain it away. Nothing needs to be questioned or examined as long as it is ratified by her holy Seven. They are above logic, above human understanding. For example, if they say a man cannot drown, then it must be true; and all evidence to the contrary is either blasphemy or on the result of a misunderstanding." She paused when she saw both men look at her as if she had two heads.
  
  "You think I exaggerate? I am confident that, should the Septons proclaim that the man who drowned man has founded a new dynasty at the bottom of the sea or has joined a submerged Kingdom there, of course Princess Catelyn will believe it, for it must be true!" Dany sighed. "I shall be ever so glad when her Highness returns to Winterfell. You should have heard the advice that she sometimes gave us. I know she means well, but she can sometimes be extremely short-sighted! Ashara often has to calm us younger ladies down and neutralise Princess Catelyn's influence by teaching us how the world actually works."
  
  Davos quickly reassured Daenerys, "Princess Catelyn will be at Winterfell soon, first for the wedding and the birth; and after that, it is highly unlikely that she would want to be separated from her first grandchild so soon. Even if she doesn't come to that herself, I am certain that her esteemed royal nephew, King Aegon the Sixth of His Name, can give her some well-intentioned royal advice. A grandmother has duties and obligations, you know, and your husband probably ranks almost as high on her list as the Seven." He winked at Dany. "I am very much afraid that you will have to learn how to survive without Princess Catelyn's wise advice for the foreseeable future, my Queen."
  
  Jon winked. "And seeing how she gives such importance to protocol, she won't return to court without a formal invitation from the royal couple."
  
  "See, Daenerys?" Davos chuckled. "You will soon be free from your wicked good-family for a very long time."
  
  Dany blushed. "Davos, all that I have said just now-"
  
  "-will remain among the three of us," Davos finished, and placed a reassuring hand on Dany's shoulder. "My loyalty is to both of you. I would never do anything to discredit you in the eyes of others."
  
  Dany put her hand atop his large, weathered one. "Thank you, Davos! I feel so comfortable around both of you that I sometimes find myself thinking out loud without heeding my words."
  
  "You two are adorable," Jon teased. His eyes followed Davos, who had removed his hand from Daenerys' shoulder and approached the small stool on which lay the scrolls he had come to discuss. He kept his face averted all the while.
  
  "I prefer that you youngsters say what you really want to say, instead of choosing your words carefully to avoid hurting my feelings." Davos' voice was suspiciously hoarse as he said this.
  
  "But I must take care not to bad-mouth my good-aunt in the presence of others," Dany insisted. I acted as if Aegon and I were alone."
  
  Jon threw his arm around Dany's shoulders gently, mindful of her broken arm. "No harm done! Davos is like our foster father anyway."
  
  Davos grew warm again when Jon spoke so matter-of-factly about their close relationship. He blinked his eyes a few times and made a show of browsing through the messages. Most of them were dry status reports from the members of the small council and contained nothing that needed to be dealt with urgently before Jon and Daenerys' departure. He looked up when his King asked, "Nothing of importance in there, I gather, from the look on your face. What else do we need to discuss, Davos?"
  
  Davos cleared his throat, still a bit affected by being included so casually in the young couple's private life. "Lady Greyjoy apologizes for being unable to offer more support. She mentions they have found something akin to dragonglass on one of the smaller islands: Blacktyde, to be precise. She asks for a means to test it and whether they should start mining it."
  
  "I'd say we have enough." Jon mulled the matter over a bit longer. "But I suppose she could ship a few pieces to Castle Black. If it is really dragonglass, then they can have a local blacksmith make some pieces for their own people on the Iron Islands. You never know what will happen. Bear Island and Skagos can either post guards armed with dragonglass at all of their cemeteries or burn the remains of their long-dead ancestors. I know that the Iron Islands are not too close to the North, but it is better to be safe than sorry, isn't it?"
  
  "I'll send a response to that effect," Davos agreed. "Then there is the request of the Red Priestess to be present when you interrogate the wizard who was working for Euron Greyjoy. She insists that her presence will help you obtain the information that you want. She claims that she will be able to distinguish whether or not the wizard is lying."
  
  "Surely it can't hurt?" Dany looked at Jon.
  
  "Will you be present, Davos?" Jon asked him.
  
  The ease that Davos had felt during this meeting evaporated a little, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Only if you want me to. I think the topics you are to discuss are not really my area of expertise. Thoros will be a better adviser than me; you might consider bringing him along instead. If he is at your side, then I won't feel too bad for backing out. I believe you can depend on him. And, for what it is worth, I agree with Queen Daenerys. Having the Red Priestess present at the wizard's interrogation seems like a good idea. She had dealings with him before in the Greyjoy camp and might be able to persuade/manipulate him a bit. Isn't she from Asshai as well?"
  
  "Indeed she is. Then I believe we can manage without you, Davos. I'll keep you informed if we learn anything valuable." Jon nodded at Davos and then addressed his wife. "Dany?"
  
  "I would like to be present, Aegon," Dany said. "I want to learn more about that horn. I am sure that if we put the wizard at ease and promise him that we will allow him to return to Asshai, he will cooperate and tell us all that he knows about it. Melisandre informed Thoros that this wizard was another of Euron Greyjoy's prisoners and was merely trying to make the best of a bad situation. He was kidnapped, dragged to the other side of the known world, and forced to obey his captor. Therefore he can't be truly loyal to Euron Greyjoy; it is clear that he acted under duress."
  
  Jon made his decision. "Then you and I will talk to him with the assistance of Thoros and Melisandre. I want to do it covertly, later today. I do not wish the entire camp to speculate about it."
  
  Davos admired the decisiveness of his King, even when the young man broke character and glanced toward him for a sign of approval. Davos gave it by nodding quickly, and said, "I'll tell Ser Gerold to make the necessary arrangements."
  
  Since Jon continued looking at him, Davos quickly added, "I'll also make sure that Melisandre and Thoros get to the cave without anyone noticing. We already made sure that only your Kingsguard know where the wizard has been sequestered. They won't tell a soul. The two of you, on the other hand, can take a stroll to spend some time alone in what everyone will assume to be an isolated location. Those who notice you leaving will simply think it romantic."
  
  Jon smiled. "We'll never get rid of the sappy rumours that way!"
  
  "There are worse things!" Dany returned his smile. "Better to have people believe that we are besotted fools than have them spreading rumours that one or both of us are seeking other partners to, uh-"
  
  "We understand," Davos interrupted before Dany could finish her sentence. "Besides, the rumourmongers are now focusing on the Princes of the North, those romantic fools! The latest rumours are mostly about Prince Benjen, but soon Prince Robb will be their next target. Your royal love story will be entirely replaced by new and more scandalous developments. Lady Dacey's pregnancy will quickly become the most interesting thing to have happened to a ruling house in recent years, and Robb Stark will have to pray that something else occurs to divert the wagging tongues away from him and Dacey."
  
  Jon straightened up. "If we have discussed all we needed to this morning, then perhaps we should proceed with our schedule. It must be time now to receive the Dornish delegation, and then we still need to organise the jury with Lord Royce for the trial-execution. I didn't get a chance to talk to Strickland last night, so I will have to squeeze that in today as well; and I'd rather not postpone the interrogation of the wizard to another day. I very much wish to learn how much damage that cursed horn might have inflicted on Viserion, and how the blasted thing can be destroyed."
  
  "You mean the horn has not yet been destroyed?!" Davos exclaimed, and looked at Jon as if he was solely responsible for the horn's remaining intact.
  
  "Shhh, lower your voice, Davos!" Dany berated him. "We don't want word to get out because our men might panic if Viserion showed up, believing him to be a threat to their lives."
  
  "I didn't exactly lie," Jon explained, taking over from Dany. "Viserion did incinerate the horn; I only omitted mentioning that that didn't destroy it completely. There is no need to panic, for the horn is safe for the time being. Viserion is guarding it in a cave at the Driftmark."
  
  "Why didn't he just drop it somewhere over the Narrow Sea?" Davos asked him.
  
  "He wasn't certain if the horn would sink. What if the horn, for some reason, can float or washes up on shore somewhere? It is a magical object after all, Davos, so we can't take any chances. We must not rest until it has been reduced to ashes, or at least has chopped up and melted into numerous pieces that we can scatter across the known world, never to be reassembled again."
  
  "I understand," Davos conceded. "I'll go and find Ser Gerold now so he can make the arrangements for your secret meeting with the wizard later. I wish you every success and will pray that the wizard can help you."
  
  "Thank you, Davos. Do hurry back so you can attend the audience with the Dornish!" Jon called after him as his Hand left the tent.
  
  "I'm also keen to talk to that wizard. I pray that he can tell me how I can become Viserion's rider for real," Dany whispered to Jon.
  
  "I don't believe you need the wizard for that-you are well on your way to becoming his true rider!" Jon kissed the corner of Dany's mouth and wrapped his arms around her. "You have already sensed his mood a few times even when he was far away, which you couldn't do before. Something has definitely changed!"
  
  "Yes," Dany sighed against his mouth. "Did you believe Melisandre when she told us last night that I carry your child?"
  
  Jon did not reply, but asked instead, "How exactly did she explain the fact that you bled two sennights ago?"
  
  "She asked me if I bled for four days or less, and how much. When I told her I bled but little, and only for two days, she confirmed this was a sign that my womb is closing. Some women bleed a little when that happens. The entrance to my womb has been sealed off so the baby can safely grow in there."
  
  Jon nodded and smiled mysteriously. "If you refuse to believe her, you can at least believe Ghost."
  
  Dany opened her mouth and closed it again without uttering a sound.
  
  Jon looked defensive. "You were fast asleep when he returned from his hunt last night! Do you recall reading in Robb's letter how Greywind sensed his unborn child's heartbeat?"
  
  "You-Ghost, I mean, you-heard, you warged-you didn't wake me?" Dany tried to take a step back.
  
  Jon didn't let her, tightening his hold on her so that she would have to listen to his explanation. "You were sleeping soundly and I-I-" He finally released Dany, but she stood still and let him continue. "You are right. I should have woken you up. I'm sorry. I was so excited, I couldn't think clearly!" Jon admitted. He was relieved when Dany responded by leaning into him, and he swiftly embraced her again.
  
  "I'll forgive you this time," Dany murmured. "But the next time you learn news as important as this, you must wake me. Do you understand?"
  
  Jon nodded and kissed her hair. "I promise."
  
  Dany smiled. "Can you describe it to me? What you heard?"
  
  Jon thought back to last night. Upon Ghost's return from a successful hunt, he had instructed his direwolf to listen to Dany's stomach. Then he had warged into Ghost and had heard another heartbeat, much faster than Dany's or his own. Jon did his best to describe the sound exactly as he remembered it. He and Dany stood together for a while, lost in contemplation of all that was to come. "I won't mind now if you sometimes complain of a queasy stomach. I will always feel happy when I hear you complain!" Jon told her, though his tone was not as teasing as his words.
  
  "Glad to hear you're happy that I felt miserable this morning!" Dany teased him back.
  
  "And I plan to continue this behaviour... unless, of course, the aches become too unbearable and your health begins to suffer." Jon paused their banter by claiming Dany's mouth, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Dany was panting when he finally released her. "Don't tell me that you weren't happy to feel nauseous! I wouldn't believe you if you did," Jon whispered, this time giving her a more tender kiss. When he finally released her lips again, he whispered, "I love you, Dany. Never doubt that I do! I love you so very much, pregnant or not. And I won't mind if that makes me a sappy fool. Let the gossipmongers spread the news around the realm if they wish! I will never hide how much I love both you and that tiny creature that nestles inside your sealed-off womb."
  
  "The Dornish delegation is here, your Graces," Ser Gerold announced.
  
  Jon and Dany had reconvened under an open tent flanked by Davos and four of his Kingsguards so they could receive the delegation for all to bear witness. Suddenly, Ghost chose that very moment to reappear. Jon met his wolf's loyal red eyes briefly, and Ghost trotted over to stand next to Daenerys, who stood to the left of Jon.
  
  "We will be honoured to receive them," Jon replied formally, and the delegation was led before them. Princess Arianne, the ruling Princess of Dorne, clad in a beautiful purple gown, led the group, followed by Prince Oberyn, Lord Edric of House Dayne, and two other Lords. The last to enter were Nymeria Sand and a lady with exotic looks who Jon guessed was Obara Sand, based on Oberyn's description.
  
  Oberyn's daughters had been busy. Nymeria Sand been sending them updates from one of the Golden Company's ships and had arrived at the base camp in the Stormlands at the same time as Harry Strickland. As soon as her father had decided that the Queen had enough protectors and that he would try to catch up with the army hunting down Euron Greyjoy, Nymeria had hastened to join him. The two of them had joined Lord Willas' forces as they were closing off the escape route, and they had helped capture the stray Ironborn soldiers who had run straight into their trap after fleeing from the Dornish forces.
  
  Obara Sand, on the other hand, had sent regular reports to her father and to Varys from the Westerlands. She had been posing as a servant and had made sure that she was among the camp followers of Lord Tarly's campaign. She had apparently done a fine job of remaining inconspicuous, for Jon had not caught a single glimpse of her during his brief time as Lord Tarly's guest.
  
  After taking in the colourful group, Jon's eyes rested for a moment on Edric. His friend gave him a quick smile as Prince Oberyn performed the necessary courtesies. The two Lords, whom Jon did not recognize, were the Lord of Godsgrace and the Lord of Blackmont, both bannermen of House Martell. After all the parties were acquainted, it was time for the pledges of allegiance. Jon felt surreal as he watched a Dornish Princess and a few of her vassal Lords kneel on the grass. He gave his official response in a thick voice and gestured for them to rise. Even in this informal setting, he realised that these last few pledges had ensured that he and Dany were now well and truly the King and Queen of all Seven Kingdoms. He glanced at Dany, who returned his intense gaze with questioning eyes. He smiled and nodding briefly at her, silently indicating that he would explain later. Then he turned his attention back to the Dornish delegation, who had all risen to their feet.
  
  Jon gave them a welcoming smile and addressed them. "I thank you all for your faith in me, and I will do my best to be worthy of it. I also wish to express my gratitude." He stopped when he noticed Dany stiffen beside him. "What I meant to say is, my Queen and I also wish to express our gratitude to you for capturing Euron Greyjoy alive. The Crown will always remember how Dorne came to our aid the first time that we asked for help. I am convinced that this will be the start of a mutually beneficial alliance between Dorne and the other Six Kingdoms."
  
  Jon looked at Dany, who now took over. "It is our wish that our relationships are restored to what they were before the Rebellion. My brother's first wife was a Dornish Princess by birth and a Targaryen Princess by marriage. I still consider House Martell to be my good-kin. I hope you will consider us kin as well, Princess Arianne."
  
  "That is my intention, your Grace," the Princess replied. "All of us have agreed to accept your invitation, and we will accompany your party on the journey to King's Landing."
  
  Daenerys stepped closer to Princess Arianne and extended her hand, which the Princess immediately accepted. "Then you will be our guests of honour," Dany said. "Tonight we shall feast around a bonfire, for favourable weather has been predicted again. If you are not averse to such an informal celebration, I will have a seat next to me reserved for you."
  
  "I shall bring my warmest cloak," the Princess replied, bowing over Dany's hand. "You can expect my presence, your Graces." Soon afterward, the official audience was over and most of the Dornish delegation left the tent, as they had been instructed to earlier. Edric was forced to follow the other Lords outside, with he and Jon unable to exchange anything but a simple greeting. Only Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn had been invited to remain inside longer.
  
  Jon now took Princess Arianne's hand and led her to a chair close to his and Dany's seats. The Princess was exactly as Oberyn had described her: she had a voluptuous figure, clear olive skin, large dark eyes, and long, thick black hair hanging loose and flowing halfway down her back. She moved gracefully, although Jon suspected that her movements were purposely seductive. He wondered why she was still unmarried, recalling that she was four or five years his senior. As he returned to his seat and motioned to Oberyn to do the same, the Dornish Prince winked at him. Aware that Oberyn had caught him ogling Princess Arianne, and not wanting to give his friend the upper hand in yet another non-verbal contest, Jon merely raised an eyebrow.
  
  The Prince chuckled. "Has a seat been reserved for me at that feast you just mentioned, my King? Or does the invitation exclude the black sheep of the Martell family so that you can surround yourself with only beautiful Queens and Princesses?"
  
  "I doubt we would be able to keep you away, invited or not. A valiant sparring partner, though, will be given the place of honour at my right side this evening." Jon began the familiar teasing.
  
  Oberyn held up his left hand and pointed to its little finger, which was covered with a thin bandage. "Is there no spot reserved for a courageous warrior who was wounded defending the Seven Kingdoms in the name of his most esteemed sovereign?"
  
  Dany now pretended to whisper in Aegon's ear, but in a voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I am willing to bet two golden dragons that no real wound lies beneath that bandage!"
  
  "Now I will have to insist upon a duel to defend my honour!" Prince Oberyn exclaimed, but his eyes twinkled.
  
  "And I choose my husband to be my champion!" Daenerys countered without blinking an eye.
  
  "Your Graces! Oberyn!" Princess Arianne exclaimed.
  
  "I accept!" Prince Oberyn declared, ignoring his niece's outburst. "My longspear against the King's legendary sword! The first man to take a step back, loses."
  
  "Are you sure you didn't mean the first one to blink his eyes or to exhale?" Jon joked.
  
  Oberyn pretended to mull over the King's words. "No... but then again, it might be fun to try that next time!"
  
  "How about I fight with a longspear and you use a sword, for a change?" Jon shot back. He noticed Dany whisper in Princess Arianne's ear, and the latter relaxed, realizing that both men were merely teasing each other.
  
  Oberyn did not skip a beat. "Then I must ask that we postpone the duel so I may have time to familiarize myself with such a highly unusual weapon."
  
  Dany made an elaborately contrite gesture. "I most humbly apologize, my most beloved Prince of Dorne, for forgetting that I am a poor whisperer. I never intended you to overhear the words meant only my exhausted husband's ears. During boring official functions, I sometimes shock him with controversial statements to keep him from falling asleep. I trust that my heartfelt apology is sufficient reason to cancel this duel? I pray that you find it in your heart to take pity on my poor King, who has only just returned from war!"
  
  Prince Oberyn put his arm around his niece's shoulders. "Arianne, we had better allow these two to proceed with the rest of their scheduled activities. I overheard Davos list a few of their duties for today. They will have to hurry if they are to arrive in time for our dinner. You would not believe me if I told you how long it takes them to prepare for a public appearance! We must permit them some time in their tent to, uh, get ready. Besides, there will be time enough in King's Landing to discuss boring trade agreements, make mutual promises of support, and all that other tedious ruling stuff!" Then he all but dragged Princess Arianne away.
  
  Before Jon and Dany joined the others for lunch around the bonfire, they held a short, private audience with Harry Strickland. The Captain-General of the Golden Company had delayed his fleet's departure in order to witness Euron Greyjoy's execution, and they would set out for Essos on the morrow instead, taking with them all the confiscated ships.
  
  "This time, I do not need to embellish the rumours much, your Graces." Harry Strickland flashed his charming smile after uttering these words, his eyes lingering on Dany longer than necessary. "The Golden Company, along with dragons and some help from the armies of Westeros loyal to House Targaryen, has helped secure peace for the new King Aegon the Sixth of his Name, blah blah blah titles, and helped cement his reign over the Seven Kingdoms. And this great, historic achievement took my illustrious company only a matter of days to accomplish. If that does not convince the third captain of the Stormcrows to merge with us, then nothing will."
  
  "You can add that the King of all Westeros was very pleased with your services and that he was your friend and ally long before they ever heard of me. That way, you can still convince them that although the dragons are King Aegon's and not yours, you did borrow them occasionally, and might still do so in the future." Jon shared a serious look with him. "One day, we will arrive in Essos with the dragons. And I will make sure to give you advance notice so you will be able to assemble your most influential clients and your serjeants, and we can put on a show for then."
  
  "I would be forever grateful," Strickland replied, bowing. "Now, allow me to address the real reason I asked for a chance to speak with you. Have you, by any chance, heard of a sellsword company called the Company of the Rose?"
  
  Jon glanced at Dany and they both nodded. Jon replied, "My teachers did not omit that part of my Northern ancestors' history. I know that the Company of the Rose was founded by Northerners some three hundred years ago. They were a group of disgruntled men who didn't care for the fact that their King, Torrhen Stark, had knelt to King Aegon, the First of his Name. I was told that some of the founders of this sellsword company were closely related to the Starks ruling at the time. These men and their families willingly went into exile, choosing to live across the Narrow Sea rather than serving a foreign conqueror. Many of their descendants still serve in that same sellsword company. Is that information still accurate?"
  
  Strickland nodded. "Even three hundred years later, some of them have the Stark colouring, grey eyes, dark hair, and the typical Northern build. Others have mixed features, but often one of their characteristics betrays their Northern origin. The reason that I bring this up is that I have been approached by a representative of the Company of the Rose. You must be aware that rumours about you have reached Essos- rumours not only about your deeds, but also about our acquaintance with each other."
  
  When Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly, Strickland elaborated. "They know of how both of us conquered the Iron Islands in less than a day." Jon nodded and Strickland continued, "Their representative was interested to learn all that I know about this new King of Westeros, and, more specifically, whether it was true that he was half-Stark and half-Targaryen. He was quite pleased when I informed him that you were often mistaken for a trueborn Stark because of your dark grey eyes, long Northern face, and dark curls. And he seemed even more interested when I told him that you were raised to follow Northern traditions and beliefs, and that you pray to the Old Gods."
  
  Jon rubbed his chin. "Am I right in assuming that the Company of the Rose was not among those sellsword companies that wished to merge with the Golden Company?"
  
  Strickland nodded. "Indeed you are. I want to warn you that one of these days, you will most likely receive a message from a certain Snow. This Snow is a distant relative of House Stark and the current leader of the Company of the Rose. The direction that my contact steered our conversation in, and the nature of his questions, made me suspect that a large fraction of this Company might be considering a return to the homeland of their ancestors. A half-Stark King might just be the inducement they need to reconcile themselves with the fact that the North is now part of the Seven Kingdoms. They may even be willing to swear fealty to the Crown. You still have time to decide what to do once they actually ask permission to return to Westeros. Perhaps you can convince your uncle, the Warden of the North, to give these people and their families, lands in the North where they can settle down. In exchange, they shall provide you with an army of several thousand, all loyal to you."
  
  Jon studied the Captain-General for a moment, pondering all that he had just heard. "You are not simply exaggerating the importance of that single meeting?"
  
  Strickland shook his head. "He didn't come straight out and say it, but it was heavily implied. I am quite positive that they will either contact you or go straight to the Warden of the North."
  
  "Do you really believe that they will ask for lands in the North? The people who will return have lived their whole lives in Essos and thus know nothing of the Northern climate. Have they ever even seen snow? Do they know how cold it can get up there?"
  
  "I believe I am not the person whom you should be discussing this with, your Grace. And I hope you take no offense for my putting this so bluntly. I have told you all I know and have done you a service by informing you in advance so you may have time to prepare for all various possibilities."
  
  Jon studied the leader of the Golden Company, who sat before him apparently without a care in the world, and wondered at the man's ambitions. It was easy to guess the motives of a group of exiles, but to guess Harry Strickland's ambitions was more difficult. As Captain-General of the most prestigious sellsword company in Essos, what more could the man want? What motivated him to continue seeking out danger, when by all accounts he was rich enough to retire? Jon straightened up and decided to ask outright what he wished to know. "What will happen if you agree to merge with those smaller sellsword companies that you mentioned? I believe you named the Stormcrows earlier? Isn't it tedious and difficult to oversee such a large amount of sellswords and maintain peace amongst your men?"
  
  Strickland shook his head. "Not really-as long as I pay them well, they do as I command. It is an efficient organisation with a clear chain of command. I no longer need to travel to find assignments. We receive more offers than we can take on, and I never send out my entire force on a single assignment. At the moment, for instance, I am honouring three other contracts aside from yours. Two of them require us to provide temporary guard duty for rich estate owners, while the third one involves keeping a free city safe from a large Khalasar of Dothrakis. Furthermore, I have assistants who handle the financial transactions. I can participate in whichever assignment I choose. I mostly enjoy the mere thrill of defeating my client's opponent and receiving more glory and praise." Harry Strickland looked quite smug as he said this.
  
  Strickland's forthright response encouraged Jon to delve deeper. "Have you ever been asked to fight a friend? Or been paid to sabotage a cause that you normally would rather support? What I mean is, uh-"
  
  Strickland interrupted as Jon scrambled for a more polite way to ask his question. "I understand what you intended to ask, your Grace."
  
  "Call me Jon, please! I have told you before that you need not use my title when we are alone. You are also allowed to refuse to answer any of my questions. This is not an interrogation!" Jon clarified with a smile. .
  
  "All right, Jon," Strickland repeated and gave them both a dazzling smile, making him look even more handsome. His eyes lingered on Dany for a moment. She had been a silent spectator throughout much of the discussion.
  
  Jon stole a glance at Dany, but she seemed unaffected by Strickland's behaviour and merely looked curious. He was certain that, like him, she was very interested in hearing Strickland's response.
  
  Harry Strickland studied the royal couple for a moment. "Have I ever fought a friend because of a contract I signed? Hmm-never! Have I ever supported a cause that I don't necessarily believe in? Often, I am afraid. I certainly did when I had just been promoted to the rank of Captain-General and we needed coin badly. I can afford to be choosy now, but in all honesty, most of the contracts offered to us are cries for help from slave masters to defend them from the Dothraki or other thieves. These masters pay exceptionally well."
  
  "You consider the Dothraki to be thieves?" Daenerys asked, remembering the Dothraki Khal who had saved her from Prince Quentin in Pentos.
  
  "Well, their way of life is rather violent," Strickland pointed out. "They respect strength, and a Khal can only remain in power if he provides for his Khalasar, puts down any threat from within his ranks, and defends his Khalasar from the other Khalasars that live on the extensive grasslands of the Dothraki Sea. These large plains are their natural habitat and do not always yield enough food, so they resort to plunder. They usually just steal from other Khalasars, but they have also been known to attack caravans travelling close to their territories. In these last few years, they have begun to raid the outskirts of the cities where the slave masters rule."
  
  "So you help the slave masters?" Dany asked in a slightly accusing tone.
  
  "You have lived in Essos, my Queen, and so you, even more than the King-uh, Jon - must realise that slavery is simply a way of life there. Most slaves are treated tolerably well and have a relatively decent life. And I do avoid helping the crueller slave masters."
  
  Dany looked at Jon, who sighed. "We cannot help the entire known world, Dany. Let us first concentrate on improving the lives of the smallfolk in Westeros who are our responsibility. And we must still deal with the threat at the Wall. Perhaps, in a few years, we can visit Essos and see what we can do for the people there. Perhaps, by that time, our friend Harry Strickland and his ever-growing sellsword company may have taken over the continent!"
  
  "That could happen, but only if I could borrow your dragons regularly," Strickland joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.
  
  Dany did not smile. "Would you be willing to keep us updated on the situation in the Free Cities and in Slaver's Bay?"
  
  "Do you harbour hidden megalomaniac tendencies, my dear?" Jon teased her.
  
  "No! I simply want to... ," Dany faltered. "Aegon, just consider this: suppose that, in the near future, we acquire enough resources to help the slaves in Essos. But then we decide to do nothing. In that case, aren't we somewhat complicit? Perhaps not as guilty as the slave masters, but can we not be accused of condoning slavery if we don't act?" she pleaded, seemingly forgetting that she and Jon were not alone.
  
  "Perhaps?" Jon took a moment to consider Dany's point of view. "You do realise that you would condemn us to a life of endless power struggles: holding off enemies, fighting to maintain each reform that we introduce. Such an enterprise would be too much for one dynasty to handle! If we truly make this our goal, then you can kiss any hope of a peaceful family goodbye!"
  
  "We could find a way to make this work if we really wanted to!" Dany's large eyes pleaded with Jon as she continued, "Delegate, form alliances, or install a ruler loyal to us and our ideals. And we can hold the threat of the dragons over anyone who disagrees with us!"
  
  Jon took her hand and lowered his voice. "That sounds rather autocratic-who is to say that we will always know what is best?" He and Dany stared at each other for a moment.
  
  "Your Graces? Jon? Daenerys?" Strickland asked hesitantly. "Do you have further need of my presence?"
  
  Jon looked away from Dany's animated face and dropped her hand. "I apologize, Harry! We were very rude, ignoring you like that.. Daenerys and I will have ample time-years, most likely-to come to a compromise. She has raised a good point. We might one day have the potential, the resources, to do some good in Essos. But first we will need to determine to what extent we should involve ourselves in Essos' affairs."
  
  "I am always willing to share my insights," Strickland assured them, addressing Daenerys in particular. "And I am prepared to give you regular updates on the political and economic situation of the larger cities in Essos, where we operate."
  
  "Thank you, Captain-General," Dany said, still quite embarrassed at her and Jon's lack of manners. "Aegon is right, however, when he insists that we first need to stabilise the situation in Westeros. There is still a lot to be done to improve the lives of our people, and we must indeed focus on the threat in the North first."
  
  "Will you need my assistance in your Northern War, Jon?" Strickland asked.
  
  "I do not think so. I can raise a large enough army now by calling the banners of all Seven Kingdoms. Besides, your men will not fare well in the cold, harsh conditions beyond the Wall, where it gets colder than you could ever imagine! If you stay still for too long, everything freezes: your weapons, your food, your feet, your limbs! Your troops are accustomed to excessive heat, so they would only be a liability to us in this war. Many would perish even before engaging the enemy! Please forgive my straightforwardness," Jon added, realizing how condescending his honest opinion might sound to the proud Captain-General of the most renowned sellsword company in Essos.
  
  "I understand, and please do not apologize for being concerned about the well-being of my men!" Strickland replied. Silence fell after his statement, and both men merely stared at each other for a moment.
  
  Strickland's face softened as his eyes wandered to Dany. He quickly pulled himself together. "Well then, I believe there is nothing else for me to do but wish you good fortune in the Northern conflict, your Graces!" Strickland bowed and prepared to leave, but then turned back. "If you have any goods or men that need to be transported to Essos, I have plenty of room available on my new ships," Strickland offered, returning to his earlier amicable behaviour.
  
  "I am unaware of any right now, but I will ask Davos about it and have him send word to you before you leave." Jon promised, approaching Strickland. He tapped the man's shoulder briefly. "We'll keep in touch. Once again, I consider myself in your debt for guarding my Queen so diligently."
  
  "It was my pleasure!" Strickland bowed and kissed Dany's hand. He nodded at Jon one last time and quickly left the tent.
  
  "He was flirting with you sometimes!" Jon turned to Dany as soon as the flap of their tent fell back in place.
  
  "He was," Daenerys admitted, smiling. "You are not the only person who can charm people into following you. I'd even say that he is more experienced at it than you are!"
  
  "As long as you don't, uh-" Jon was silenced mid-sentence by Dany's lips. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her more deeply. "How much time do we have left?"
  
  "None. Hold that thought for later. Although-" Dany bit her lip.
  
  "Although?" Jon asked, worried.
  
  "I am pregnant. Now that we know for sure, thanks to Ghost, you don't-we don't have to-"
  
  "I don't have to," Jon agreed, tightening his arms around her, his hands on her butt, pressing her lower body into his. "But I want to. I want to so very much! Please tell me you want to as well! And don't worry-I'll be very sure not to hurt either you or our child."
  
  "Our child! " Dany's eyes shone in anticipation. "When we retire after the feast, then? I can't ever imagine not wanting you!" She lifted her head and Jon could see a small translucent pearl in the corner of her left eye. He wiped it away gently with his thumb.
  
  "Please don't overindulge when they call for their silly toasts!" Dany pleaded.
  
  "And get too drunk and fall asleep before I am halfway through undressing you? Not a chance in the Seven Hells!" Jon's eyes fervently promised Dany more than that.
  
  "Seven what?" Dany smiled and leaned into him.
  
  "I am embracing all the religions of my Kingdoms," Jon kissed her hair. "Seven?" He bounced the question back to her.
  
  "Six to go, then?" she whispered, her meaning clear.
  
  "Who knows what can happen when the Gods are willing? Our first child will arrive in little less than eight moons; we'll take it from there. Seven or eight moons-that sounds like a long time from now when you think about it."
  
  "Let's enjoy every stage of this first pregnancy! Remember how much attention Lady Myrcella received?"
  
  "I'll remind you to enjoy being sick tomorrow morning," Jon teased.
  
  "It's not that bad!" Dany protested. "My nausea brought us hope. Thank the Gods for Ghost, though! Who needs a Maester when you have a direwolf at your beck and call?"
  
  "When he is not asleep or out hunting," Jon added, looking at Ghost, who was fast asleep in the corner of their tent.
  
  "He has earned his rest a thousandfold. Ser Arthur told me how he kept close to you during the battle, no matter how bad the fighting was. He faithfully stood his ground and guarded you!" Dany smiled softly as she gazed at the sleeping direwolf.
  
  "I know. Next to you, it is Ghost whom I love the most," Jon admitted.
  
  "Don't tell Rhaegal that!" Dany teased, smiling sweetly.
  
  Jon secretly committed this moment to memory, particularly the fact that he was holding Dany safely in his arms, and they both felt so comfortable with one another. "Rhaegal knows," he replied and swallowed, his voice suddenly sounding strange to his own ears. "Our bond is different. Ghost is my pet who trusts and obeys me without complaint. I am his superior, the leader of his pack, and nobody is as blindly devoted to me as he is. Rhaegal, on the other hand, is more like my partner-my equal. And although he would also do anything for me, it would be because he has made up his mind to do so. In fact, he often challenges me to see things his way."
  
  Dany sighed and Jon stroked her hair, immediately sensing the reason for her distress. "Viserion will come around," he assured her. "Rhaegal is certain that he will, and I trust my dragon's judgement. If anyone knows what is going on in Viserion's mind, it is Rhaegal."
  
  They both fell silent. Finally, Jon grabbed Dany's hand. "Come, let us see if there is anything left to eat! Our meeting with Strickland took longer than expected. Let's take our meal outside and enjoy the warmth of the bonfire. We can socialize a bit until it is time for the interrogation of the wizard; that will take up the rest of the afternoon. Then I shall check the preparations for the trial, and we shall attend the dinner at which we shall appease the Dornish delegation. After all that, I can finally give in to my baser instincts and have my way with you. If you will still want me to at that point, of course!"
  
  Dany smiled. "Of course I'll still want you! Believe me, my need to make sure that you love me has grown even stronger. And I have never felt your love as deeply as when we cuddle after making love! Melisandre has assured me that our child is safe in my womb, so we need not abstain."
  
  "It won't hurt our child if I make you shiver all over!" Jon's eyes darkened with passion as they roamed over Dany's body.
  
  She swallowed thickly. "Not according to Melisandre. I'll ask the Maester when we return to King's Landing, just to be sure. But think, Aegon: if that were the case, very few pregnancies would reach full term successfully. Men are driven by their baser instincts, after all."
  
  Jon sighed, realizing that their private moment was over. "It is a pity that we really need to find some food and attend the dinner. Also, Edric will expect me to spare some time for him at lunch."
  
  "A sovereign's work is never done!" Dany kissed the corner of Jon's mouth, but evaded him when he tried to prolong the kiss. "Luckily, we share a tent, so we'll end up back here one way or another."
  
  "At least there is that!" Jon agreed, and led her outside.
  
  Interlude 52: Congratulations
  
  To Prince Robb of House Stark, Heir to Winterfell (for his eyes alone):
  
  Congratulations, Cousin! Daenerys and I received your surprising news that travelled all the way to the Stormlands before it found us. We are happy for the both of you! Reserve two seats for us at the wedding feast, so I may tell you in person just how many unnecessary sentences there were in that long missive of yours. We have also received word from your father. I shall send him a separate scroll officially announcing that the Crown strongly supports a Stark/Mormont union and all that it entails. Give our best wishes to your bride-to-be and make sure to prepare her for your mother's arrival. I will send Aunt Catelyn home as soon as we return to King's Landing.
  
  On a different note, as of today, Lord Renly of House Baratheon is the new Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Should farfetched tales reach the North, do not fret. Everyone is well, including the two dragons. Your messenger will carry a longer letter North, written in my hand and explaining everything. Look after your family!
  
  Your favourite cousin and faithful friend ("faithful" only on my end; your faith was rather weak if you assumed so many words were necessary to receive my 'congratulations'!)
  
  Jon, a.k.a. King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name
  
  P.S. Send Edric a congratulatory raven-he has distinguished himself in the battle against the Ironborn, and I shall knight him personally in a few days' time.
  
  To Prince Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell:
  
  Dear Uncle,
  
  Our campaign was successful. Minor battles ensued, but hardly any casualties were counted on our side. Euron Greyjoy has been executed in the Stormlands, so the Wall can expect an influx of Ironborn. Stannis Baratheon will be publicly executed in King's Landing as soon as it can be arranged.
  
  Now to address a different matter: you will surely have heard by now of Robb's betrothal. I could not have proposed a better bride for my dear cousin and friend, and I am -certain, once you have given it some thought, that you will agree with me. House Mormont is fully deserving of the honour. I strongly suggest that you claim to have orchestrated the betrothal and to be confident that the Crown supports you in this. For all intents and purposes, might I suggest a short betrothal? The Queen and I can attend a wedding feast if it is to be held approx. two moons from now. Do not expect a royal procession, though. Only the two of us will arrive on our dragons. Unless I receive word to the contrary, I shall arrange for Princess Catelyn and your daughters to board a ship destined for White Harbour within a sennight of my return to the Capital.
  
  Daenerys and I look forward to receiving a formal invitation to the wedding of the newly betrothed Stark heir.
  
  Until we meet in the North,
  
  Your nephew Jon, also known as
  
  King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
  
  To Catelyn of House Stark, Princess of the North:
  
  Catelyn,
  
  I arranged a betrothal for Robb with House Mormont. He is to wed Lady Dacey in two moons' time. I will ask the King to make the necessary arrangements for you and the girls to take the first ship headed for White Harbour and to send ample security with you.
  
  I look forward to having my family back in the North again, even if Sansa will most likely not stay in Winterfell for long. Robb and his bride will travel to White Harbour in a timely manner so they can escort you on the last leg of your journey home.
  
  Your faithful husband,
  
  Eddard of House Stark, Prince and Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell
  
  To Prince Eddard of House Stark, Prince of the North, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell:
  
  Dear husband,
  
  Our daughters and I are prepared to board a ship in two days' time. I am glad that Prince Robb is finally betrothed, though I am surprised at your choice of bride. The timing of this wedding is rather unfortunate. The King has only just returned, and we will only have occasion to attend the single banquet held in honour of the war heroes. I have heard rumours that Lord Edric of House Dayne is to be knighted. My uncle, Lord Brynden of House Tully, will also be recognised officially for his valour. I have convinced the King not to spread word of our son's betrothal until we have started our northbound journey. I would rather not deal with the disappointed hopes of House Tyrell.
  
  See that Robb conveys our best wheelhouse to White Harbour.
  
  We will be reunited soon.
  
  Your faithful spouse,
  
  Princess Catelyn of House Stark, Princess of the North
  
  To Prince Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell:
  
  Robb,
  
  Jon told me all your wonderful news. You have my heartfelt congratulations! Gendry sits next to me as I write this and urges me to send his love and best wishes. Both of us deeply regret that we will be unable to attend your wedding. If only I could ride a dragon!
  
  Jon will bring you a wedding gift from Gendry and me. It will be accompanied by a long letter that I trust him to deliver to you personally so that we can write more without holding back. Ask Jon to sketch a picture of your betrothed, for neither I nor Gendry have met her before.
  
  My only regret is that this development delays your promised visit south, and with it, the long-awaited reunion of the pact members. Since it will likely take several moons-perhaps an entire year or longer-before you and your new family can travel to King's Landing, I will surely have left for the Citadel by then.
  
  All our best wishes to you, dear friend, and to your Lady Dacey,
  
  Lord Samwell of House Tarly
  
  And Lord Gendry of House Baratheon
  
  To Prince Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell:
  
  Robb, congratulations! You're the second member of our pact to get married! Unfortunately, I will be unable to travel north for the wedding ceremony. I shall only stay two sennights in King's Landing and then must head back to Starfall where I have taken up my lordly duties. I find I enjoy being the Lord of my own dominion. I can picture myself happily growing old there with the right Lady by my side. For now, I must remain patient. Whatever happens, know that you will always be welcome at Starfall! My lands are not very far from King's Landing. I urge you to consider traveling further south after you've visited Jon and the Queen. I would like to show you Starfall and the beautiful, sunny lands where I grew up. If you stay long enough, I can take you and all your companions on an exotic sightseeing tour. There are many beautiful places in the Principality of Dorne that you and your sisters, in particular, would enjoy.
  
  Enjoy your last few days of bachelorhood!
  
  Your loyal friend,
  
  Lord Edric of House Dayne, Lord of Starfall
  
  (soon to be Ser Edric, a decorated war hero)
  
  To Prince Robb of House Stark, Heir to Winterfell:
  
  Dear nephew,
  
  I just heard the most delightful news! Congratulations! I can't believe I never thought of this match before. Lady Dacey of House Mormont will make a wonderful Lady of Winterfell and Princess of the North, but more importantly, I can indeed picture the two of you living together and developing a warm rapport. I wish you all the best! I shall confer with Jon, but, in all honesty, I do not look forward to travelling so far north, only to depart again after a few sennights. My wife doesn't fare well on a ship, and I refuse to travel without her. We are still newlyweds, after all. I love you, dear nephew, and will count the days until I can welcome you and your wife here in King's Landing. Do not delay too long, for want to see you at least once more before my hair turns grey!
  
  Your happily married Uncle,
  
  Prince Benjen of House Stark
  
  P.S. I forgot to mention that Ashara also sends her best wishes, and I hope Jon will have enough room on his dragon to carry our gift to you.
  
  To Prince Robb of House Stark, Heir to Winterfell:
  
  Robb, my sincere congratulations! Jon relayed to me your happy news. He was beaming from ear to ear as he told me that his favourite cousin has found a partner in life whom he can respect and love. I am uniquely placed to assure you that, in his official capacity as King, Jon and his Hand also consider this union a welcome political development. I informed my brothers of the Kingsguard of the "official" version of your betrothal, and they have asked me to convey their best wishes to you and Lady Mormont. I reckon your upcoming marriage will delay your journey south? Please keep me updated on your new plans regarding that trip. Lord Seaworth also asks me to extend his congratulations to you since Jon forgot to mention them in his scroll. Keep well and write to me soon!
  
  Ser Loras, Kingsguard to King Aegon VI
  
  End notes:
  
  In the next chapter, Euron gets his comeuppance, and reunions are held in King's Landing. Meanwhile, the interlude deals with separations.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Justice served
  Chapter 53: Justice serviced
  
  Summary:
  
  More than one kind of justice is served. The interlude, for once, coincides with the timeline of the main story. It takes place on day 201 of the reign of King Aegon, the day after the victory celebration.
  
  Notes:
  
  Warning: this chapter contains a description of an execution as well as other canon-typical violence.
  
  I'm very grateful to my beta Lunaselene. She worked very hard to reshape my ramblings into a coherent chapter.
  
  A message for the anonymous guests who have left one or more vague comments: Please be less cryptic. It is not always clear to me to what you are referring to and I can't PM you to ask for clarification.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  The next morning, a selection of Ironborn prisoners was brought before a jury presided over by Lord Yohn of House Royce, the Master of Laws. The other members of the jury were the King's military commanders. The jury sat at a large table under the open tent. Davos, representing the Crown's interests, stood next to the table. The King and Queen, Princess Arianne, Prince Oberyn, the Dornish Lords, Harry Strickland, and other prominent spectators were all seated under the tent as well, sheltered from the elements. Harry Strickland had heard about the trial and had postponed his departure by another day. All of them waited for the rain to stop so that the prisoners could be brought out.
  
  When the rainstorm finally abated, Davos gave the signal to bring out the prisoners. All heads turned in one direction as the Ironborn were led before the large table at which the jury sat. Jon studied the men as they were made to stand at a safe distance from the jurors and the public. Euron Greyjoy walked to the front of the group of prisoners. The leader of the Ironborn was clad in a filthy tunic and torn leather breeches. His black Valyrian armour had been confiscated by the Dornish, and Jon had allowed House Martell to keep it.
  
  Euron was shivering as the wind played with his long dark hair and beard. The three Ironborn next to him were the ones that Melisandre had identified as his most trusted soldiers. They still wore their boiled leathers and seemed unaffected by the harsh wind. Behind them were a few soldiers who were accused of manhandling Queen Daenerys and treating her disrespectfully while she was their hostage. The rest of the Ironborn had not been allowed to attend the trial and remained locked up in the cave. The verdict would be read out to them later.
  
  As the trial was about to commence, a large group of soldiers and camp followers gathered around the area. Several knights from the Vale had been ordered by Ser Gerold to keep the spectators at a safe distance. Soon, a large crowd had gathered, forming a semi-circle behind the prisoners. Shortly after the Ironborn prisoners were lined up before the table of jurors, Rhaegal took to the sky and roared loudly, making a few of the prisoners wet their pants.
  
  After the dragon fell silent, Lord Royce rose and proclaimed that the jury would decide Euron Greyjoy's fate first. "Euron of House Greyjoy, you stand accused of treason against his Grace, King Aegon the Sixth of his Name. Other charges against you are the kidnapping and mistreatment of her Grace, Queen Daenerys, and the torture of a dragon allied to House Targaryen."
  
  All eyes were fixed on Euron Grejoy, who spoke up. "We are at war; what did you expect? That I would shake hands with your King, wave at his army, and parlay?"
  
  Lord Royce held up his hand. "It is not necessary for the accused to enter a plea. His guilt has been established beyond doubt, and the jurors present are unanimous in their verdict: Euron Greyjoy is sentenced to death. All that is left for us to do today is to decide how to carry out his execution, and then to proceed with it without further delay."
  
  "What is dead may never die!" Euron Greyjoy proclaimed boldly, for all to hear. "I choose death by drowning!"
  
  Rhaegal roared loudly in protest. Jon closed his eyes for a moment, and the dragon fell silent. Then Jon rose slowly from his seat amongst the spectators and began walking. He cut the distance between himself and the prisoners in half, only stopping when they were about ten feet apart. Two of his Kingsguard flanked him as he stood there, staring daggers at Euron Greyjoy. Ghost obeyed Jon's silent command and did not stray from Daenerys' side.
  
  With a safe distance between him and Euron Greyjoy, Jon spoke, his voice eerily calm. "I promised you Fire and Blood, Greyjoy. Or have you forgotten? I must confess that I also made a promise to someone else." He looked up at the sky, tilting his head to the northeast. "It won't be long now."
  
  Rhaegal's loud roar was answered by the roar of a second dragon, and all heads turned to stare at it. For the first time since his short imprisonment, the white dragon made an appearance. Dany left the shelter of the tent for a better view. Ghost, Ser Oswell, and Ser Gerold flanked her, convincing her to stop before she could reach the place where Jon stood between Ser Arthur and Ser Loras. Ghost growled at Euron Greyjoy for good measure as he positioned himself in front of Daenerys. The direwolf was clearly intent on lunging at anyone who dared to threaten his pack members.
  
  Euron had also spotted Viserion and paled visibly. He cursed under his breath.
  
  Jon took another step forward and taunted Euron. "It is only fair that Viserion, the dragon whom you wronged, gets a say in the nature of your execution. Don't you agree?" When Euron did not reply, Jon added, "I believe you are aware that Viserion is the name of that beautiful silver-white dragon circling above us. I named him Viserion because he asked to be named thus. He is my friend, you see, and we communicate ."
  
  Jon paused a moment for dramatic effect. Then he spoke louder so that his words could be heard over the flapping of the tent covers caused by a sudden gush of wind. "These dragons are allies of House Targaryen. They cannot be enslaved, nor would I ever aspire to enslave them. Euron Greyjoy's attempt to do so was pathetic and doomed to fail."
  
  The wind calmed down a bit, so Jon continued in a somewhat softer tone. He inspected Greyjoy's shivering body as he continued, "Be glad that my Queen returned to me with merely a broken arm." Jon gestured to the guard standing next to Euron Greyjoy, who promptly proceeded to break the Ironborn's left arm. "That is all the punishment I will inflict upon you."
  
  Jon turned his back on Euron and stepped closer to the jurors. He pronounced each word clearly so that the prisoners and the crowd behind them could understand everything he said. "Euron Greyjoy has been found guilty and sentenced to death. Due to the nature of his crimes, the Crown shall allow the dragon that Euron Greyjoy so cruelly tortured to carry out this death sentence as he sees fit. Are there any objections to this?"
  
  A few exclamations were heard, but no one actually protested. Davos took the floor. "All in favour of death by dragon?" All jurors raised their hands.
  
  Both dragons roared loudly. At Jon's signal, the soldier who had broken Euron's arm led the condemned man a safe distance away from the other prisoners and tied him to a pole. Then he stepped away, abandoning the pale, shivering man to his fate.
  
  Viserion swept down in front of the tied-up prisoner. He roared, and his hot breath wafted over Euron Greyjoy, burning him lightly. The dragon roared again, and Jon felt somewhat vindicated when he heard Euron's cry of fear and pain as his skin turned redder. Viserion snapped his jaws close to Euron's face, and a dark spot appeared on the Ironborn's breeches. Rhaegal remained aloft, circling the spot where his brother was toying with his victim. The white dragon looked up at his brother and both dragons roared simultaneously. Then Viserion's huge claw shot out and latched onto Euron Greyjoy's waist. It only took a moment for the dragon to pull the pole out of the sand and his victim with it. Then Viserion took to the sky. For once, Rhaegal followed his brother's lead and flew after him. Everyone's head was turned upwards, their eyes fixated on the dragons as they hovered over the Narrow Sea.
  
  "Do you think Euron will be granted his death by drowning?" Jon asked Dany, who had slipped to stand his side and was gripping his hand.
  
  "No, he is way too furious!" Dany whispered. Shocked exclamations were heard from the crowd as Viserion dropped Euron, only for Rhaegal to hit him with his tail, resulting in Euron being hurdled even higher up in the air. Then both dragons turned their heads upwards and released two gigantic flames. The fire engulfed the Ironborn's body well before he plunged to his death. When his remains finally hit the stormy waves of the Narrow Sea, all that was left of him was a mist of blackened ashes. Viserion roared once more, then flew back in the direction he had come from.
  
  "All in all, a merciful death," Davos remarked, moving close to his King and Queen. "They could have made him suffer much longer."
  
  Jon did not reply. His eyes were on Dany, who was gazing at the sky after Viserion had disappeared from sight, her face forlorn. "He just needs more time," Jon comforted her. "Rhaegal is sure he will join him on their beach in King's Landing soon."
  
  "I know." Dany blinked her eyes and clasped Jon's hand together briefly. "Now, please, Aegon, put the other prisoners out of their misery. They must expect the worst by now."
  
  She and Jon walked back to the open tent. The jurors, who had left their seats to watch Euron Greyjoy's unusual execution, had already returned to their seats by this time. Davos gave Lord Yohn of House Royce permission to resume the proceedings.
  
  The Master of Laws coughed loudly to get everyone's attention. "All Ironborn prisoners will be escorted to the Wall. There, they will help prepare the Night's Watch for the approaching conflict beyond the Wall. Those of them who are standing before us will take their vows and serve for life. A list of names of the other survivors-those still in the caves and those being held in the Dornish camp-will be given to Lady Yara of House Greyjoy, the current ruler of the Iron Islands. She will be allowed to pardon some of these prisoners after the enemy beyond the Wall has been defeated."
  
  Jon held up a hand and cleared his throat loudly to stop the murmurs that had begun in reaction to the last sentence. He raised his voice. "Lady Greyjoy will not be given unlimited freedom to decide whom to pardon. She will have to justify her choices based on the reports that she will receive regularly from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, describing the actions and the level of commitment of these men to the war effort. If she adheres to these terms, the Crown will defer to her judgement." Jon gestured for the Ironborn prisoners to be returned to the cave, where they would stay until transport could be arranged.
  
  Lord Renly of House Baratheon, one of the members of the jury, rose to his feet. "What about those lords and soldiers from the Stormlands who were loyal to Stannis Baratheon and were captured? Will they be sent to the Wall as well?"
  
  For once, Jon actually approved of Lord Renly's intervention, for it was his duty as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands to show concern for his people. Jon and Davos exchanged glances, and Jon discreetly allowed Davos to answer.
  
  "Yesterday we identified all the farmers and their sons who were forced to join Stannis Baratheon's army," Davos explained calmly, and everyone listened with rapt attention. "They were separated from the other prisoners. The Master of Laws and the jury accepted the Crown's proposal to give these men the opportunity to swear fealty to the Crown and to their new liege Lord, Lord Renly of House Baratheon. They all promptly did so, and thus they shall be allowed to return home and tend to their lands. That leaves us to deal with the Lords and the trained soldiers. His Grace and I will give each Lord a chance to state his case and defend his men. Before we pass judgement, we intend to interrogate a few soldiers from each keep, away from their respective Lords and commanders. That way, we can make an informed decision for each region."
  
  Jon took over. "Our intent is to pardon those who can convince us that they will be loyal to the Crown and will accept Lord Renly of House Baratheon as their new liege Lord. The cases of those who surrendered peacefully will be considered first. However, an investigation will be conducted into the behaviour of all of the prisoners. If we have sufficient proof that some of them have committed atrocities beyond what they were ordered to do, these men will be punished accordingly. The severity of their punishments will depend on the types of acts they have been condemned for. As stated before, the Crown wants to be merciful to those who had no choice but to fight us. However, the King will not pardon rapists or men without honour who were witnessed slaying an enemy after he had yielded. The Queen and I will not tolerate such behaviour in our Kingdoms. The safety of all of the Crown's subjects will always remain our first priority. This is why Stannis Baratheon will stand trial in King's Landing for kinslaying and other serious charges."
  
  The jury and several of the spectators voiced their consent. When things calmed down, Princess Arianne addressed the royal couple. "Will the Stormlands need to compensate your allies for their expenses, or does the Crown intend to reward us in another way?"
  
  Jon stared at her and again spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "The Crown offers all Seven Kingdoms protection and just treatment. You are ensured both support and military protection if your Kingdom is in any kind of need or danger. The allies who come to your aid will ask for no recompense other than that you promise to do the same for them when they are in need. If the Crown is so inclined, we may offer you other benefits, not out of obligation, but of our own free will." He took a deep breath and gestured vaguely to Davos.
  
  Jon's Hand immediately took action. "If there are no further questions, the King, assisted by the Lords of the jury, will now have to attend several meetings with the captured Stormland Lords, their military commanders, and a selection of soldiers. If we can pardon most of them before we break camp, these men will not need to follow us to King's Landing, but can start putting their lands in order as soon as possible. Winter is coming soon, and it is imperative that they can get at least one more harvest in." Davos exchanged a small smile with Jon as he uttered the words of House Stark.
  
  Considering the proceedings duly closed, Jon walked away swiftly with Daenerys by his side. His Kingsguard and Ghost hurried after them. As Jon and Dany were about to enter their tent, Ser Gerold announced, "Prince Oberyn and Lord Dayne request a short audience, your Grace."
  
  Jon and Dany proceeded inside their tent, where Jon urged Dany to take a seat. He looked at her questioningly and, after she nodded, turned to Ser Gerold with a sigh. "All right, but they shall be the last visitors whom we shall receive before we start the interrogations. Tell them that they may enter."
  
  "Your Graces!" Lord Edric of House Dayne appeared and kissed Daenerys' hand. He turned to Jon and hesitated, but Jon quickly pulled him into a hug.
  
  "I missed you last night," Jon whispered as he thumped Edric on the back. He released his friend and smiled at Prince Oberyn. "Miss me already, my Prince, or is it time for our spar?"
  
  "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from pardoning those poor souls and sending them home to their farms." Oberyn grinned as he patted Jon's shoulder. "I just wanted to invite Daenerys to join our delegation while you attend those tedious interrogations. Princess Arianne and I can be trusted to keep her safe. We will offer her our most comfortable seat and keep her entertained. But just send word when you start experiencing signs of separation anxiety, and I will return her to you."
  
  Oberyn addressed Daenerys next. "Dearest Daenerys, Princess Arianne has arranged for a typical Dornish meal for you. Please accept her invitation. She looks forward to getting to know you better in a more informal setting."
  
  "Then how can I refuse?" Dany gracefully accepted the invitation and glanced at her husband.
  
  Jon smiled encouragingly at her. "Take Ghost with you. That way, I will know immediately if Oberyn behaves in too forward a manner." At his words, Ghost rose to his feet and slipped between Daenerys and Prince Oberyn.
  
  Oberyn didn't even blink as he retorted, "You are merely lucky that you found her first, my boy. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stood a chance against my devilish, exotic charm!" Then he abandoned his casual behaviour, his next words sounding like a vow. "I will guard your Queen with my life, your Grace! She will be returned to you with not a single hair on her head out of place."
  
  Jon nodded gratefully, then turned back to the Lord of Starfall. "Edric, before the two of you leave with my Queen, tell me: have you decided yet whether or not you will accompany us to King's Landing?"
  
  Edric hesitated before saying, "Prince Oberyn, you need not wait for me. I am confident that, with Ghost's assistance, you can escort the Queen safely to Princess Arianne. I will join you there shortly."
  
  Oberyn offered Daenerys his arm. She gave her husband a chaste kiss on his cheek, then took Oberyn's arm. Edric waited until the flap of the tent had fallen back into place behind Ghost before answering Jon's question. "I'm still undecided, but I think I would rather return to Starfall. You see, I heard that Robb is to be wed soon. I gather that his mother and sisters will return home."
  
  Jon nodded. "It is indeed safe to assume that Princess Catelyn will take her daughters with her so that they can all attend my cousin's wedding to Lady Dacey of House Mormont."
  
  Edric sighed, resigned. "Then I shall give you another letter for Princess Sansa."
  
  Jon shook his head. "I am also sure that Princess Catelyn will want to remain at Court at least until after our victory celebration, which I may hold around five days after our arrival. So you may still find an opportunity to meet with Sansa." Jon put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Edric, Sansa will probably not remain long in the North. She is the Queen's lady-in-waiting after all, even if we will not force her to remain in our employ."
  
  When Edric frowned, Jon quickly added, "What I am trying to say is that it will be Sansa's decision, and not her mother's, as to what she shall do after Robb's wedding. Perhaps other factors could influence her to return south and resume her duties as lady-in-waiting to Queen Daenerys?"
  
  Edric thought this over for a moment before asking, "What are the chances that Dorne can expect a formal royal visit in the near future?"
  
  Jon grimaced. "It is more likely that I might ask a contingent of Dornish knights to help guard the Capital and my Court while I travel north to fight the Night King. And I would certainly accept the services of a recently knighted Lord if he volunteered them!"
  
  "I will be going North with your army, your Grace," Edric said immediately, using a formal tone to indicate that he was serious. "I am one of the few southern Lords who knows what you will be going up against. I promise to be of invaluable service to you."
  
  Jon briefly touched Edric's shoulder again. "Then I will plan accordingly, Edric. I am grateful for your loyalty and friendship, and I will gladly accept your offer to help us fight against the dead." He smiled warmly. "Come on, let's drop all these 'your Graces'! I want to speak to my friend . Please, sit down with me for a moment!"
  
  Edric relaxed, taking a seat facing Jon, who eyed him carefully. "I wanted to tell you this myself," Jon said slowly. "I intend to hold a formal Court session and then a victory celebration to publicly thank everyone who fought for me. I also intend to knight some men and reward a few others for their heroic deeds. You, my friend, were personally involved in the capture of Euron Greyjoy. I was planning to hold an elaborate knighting ceremony for you before the royal court, and to give you a priceless object as well. I would prefer to do this in the Red Keep rather than here, where we would not have enough time. I am also sure that you would want your gift sooner rather than later. For all this, your presence is needed in King's Landing."
  
  Jon made his tone even more persuasive as he continued. "Think on it, Edric: we are only five days away from the Red Keep. Won't you reconsider your plans? This way, Princess Catelyn and a certain young lady, among a few others can witness your moment of triumph themselves! And afterwards, you have my permission to leave for Dorne as soon as you wish."
  
  Edric's face lit up. "Well, when you put it that way... it would certainly help with my future plans!"
  
  "Exactly! It would be the most important step yet in our strategy to increase your prestige in the eyes of a certain proud Northern family." Jon smiled more openly now. "And you might be able to hand over that letter yourself. Perhaps you will even be granted a dance before Sansa leaves for Winterfell-if you play your cards right!"
  
  "I'd have to return to Starfall immediately afterwards," Edric reminded Jon, although he sounded more optimistic now.
  
  Jon acted as if Edric had already made up his mind. "Then I will make the most of the ten or so days before we part again! Sam and Gendry will simply have to be content with five."
  
  Edric nodded, his mind made up, and changed the subject. "Speaking of our friends, how's Ser Loras doing?"
  
  "As if you haven't been able to make up your own mind before!" Jon was more relaxed now that his friend had agreed to the plan. "I believe that Loras is doing exceedingly well. He has the unique ability to switch between personalities at a moment's notice. In Ser Gerold's presence, he is the most dutiful Kingsguard the Lord Commander could ever wish for. Despite Ser Gerold's reservations when I forced Loras on him, I believe my Lord Commander now considers Ser Loras to be the most valiant knight who has joined their sacred trinity! However, when nobody is watching, Ser Loras reverts to his over-confident, ostentatious behaviour, and he proves constantly that he can still be my friend despite his new position. To be honest, I think I feel more uncomfortable when he stands behind, me all stiff and formal and not allowed to address me. At first I thought he considered all this a good joke; but then, you should have seen him when we charged the Baratheon forces! He was amazing-a true Kingsguard!"
  
  Edric's eyes widened. "So the stories were not exaggerating? You really were part of the frontline during the charge?"
  
  Jon nodded. "Not that it did me any good! First, the battle was way too short for my liking. I was so angry at those Ironborn!" Jon took a deep breath to calm himself. "I charged ahead and was able to strike down two Ironborn soldiers before my Kingsguard overtook me, and that was that. Not a single enemy soldier could break through their formation. Loras and the others were a sight to behold! And Ghost, instead of jumping into the fray as I expected him to, stayed glued to my side the whole time."
  
  Edric stared past Jon, and his voice took on a dreamy quality. "I wish I had been there to witness it! Soon, songs will be sung about the return of a young, heroic King with dazzling good looks, clad in Valyrian steel, adorned with red rubies like his beloved father; and about the resurrection of the legendary Seven, with their white cloaks fluttering in the wind!" Edric sighed deeply when he had finished.
  
  "I didn't know we lost a poet when you chose to wield a sword and run a keep!" Jon teased him. "I hate to end our conversation, but now that I have persuaded you to travel with me, I am afraid that I must go and take part in the interrogations. But we shall see each other again soon! You may join me and my Kingsguard when we ride up front during our return journey. And the Dornish delegation, of which you are a prominent member, has once again been invited to join the bonfire, at which I will dine later tonight."
  
  Edric stood up. "Then I will be seeing you, my friend!"
  
  Jon also rose, and the two friends embraced briefly before Edric headed out. Ser Gerold and Davos entered moments later. "Ready, your Grace?"
  
  Daenerys discreetly studied the Dornish Princess. Princess Arianne was the embodiment of everything a man could desire. Dany decided not to imagine what could have happened if Aegon had met Arianne before he fell in love with his Aunt, Princess Daenerys in Pentos. As things stood, however, she had nothing to fear: Aegon loved her dearly and was completely devoted to her. Besides, he was honourable to a fault and would never engage in anything disgraceful. Dany had seen the Princess' eyes roam over her handsome husband and was sure that Arianne would have attempted to seduce the King were he not already happily married. Jon had not seemed to notice Arianne's interest, but Dany was not as blind. The Dornish Princess flirted with every handsome man she encountered, and many of them reciprocated her interest. She was like a spider weaving her web, drawing them all in. Dany wondered if Princess Arianne would ever settle for one man.
  
  Nevertheless, the Princess was unfailingly kind and courteous towards Daenerys. Dany had been given the place of honour at the Dornish table, and, as Prince Oberyn had promised, the Dornish had prepared a wide variety of exotic food. Princess Arianne named and described each of the colourful dishes, warning Dany if any of them might taste too strange. The Princess also made sure that there were no lapses in their conversation as she described in detail her party's journey here. When that topic was exhausted, she described Sunspear and the Water Gardens, and praised the warm Dornish climate.
  
  Since Daenerys hardly took her eyes off Princess Arianne, she didn't miss the subtle sign of dismissal that Arianne gave the Dornish Lords and servants after they had all eaten their fill. Soon the large tent was deserted except for the two of them and Prince Oberyn. Even Princess Arianne's sworn shield, whom Dany suspected of being one of Arianne's lovers, had taken up position outside their tent.
  
  Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne both moved to sit next to each other, facing Dany. "Don't be alarmed, Daenerys," Arianne assured her. "This is not an ambush! We just want to discuss some things with you in private."
  
  Encouraged by Prince Oberyn's warm smile, Dany gestured to Princess Arianne to continue. The Dornish Princess looked directly into the Queen's purple eyes. "We are aware that only a few people know of what happened between you and Prince Quentyn in Pentos, and it is in all our interests to keep it that way."
  
  Dany stiffened slightly. "This is about Prince Quentyn?"
  
  Oberyn nodded. "And about my older brother, Prince Doran. Surely you know that Aegon sent me to Dorne a few moons back to see to it that they were punished for their, uh, disrespectful behaviour towards your person."
  
  "Of course, I know!" Dany retorted stiffly, without providing further information.
  
  Princess Arianne looked grave as she continued, "On behalf of the Kingdom of Dorne, I would like to apologize for the actions of my father and brother. I was unaware of their intentions and, had I known, would have done everything in my power to dissuade them. As a respected female member of House Martell, I will not allow my kin to treat a noble lady or a princess as a mere tool in underhanded political games. The Dornish take pride in the fact that they value their women!"
  
  "I thank you for these words, Princess Arianne," Dany replied graciously. "If only I could convince the rest of Westeros of the merit of women! Aegon shares my concern, and we intend to work slowly towards achieving that goal. Women are so much more than a means of providing men with heirs! Having said that, though, I believe this was not what you truly wished to discuss with me now. How is Prince Doran's health, pray tell?"
  
  Princess Arianne's face took on a pained expression. "He is bedridden and his health is in steady decline. After Stannis Baratheon's trial and the victory celebrations, I will leave King's Landing so I can be there to support my father during his last few days in this realm."
  
  Dany spoke softly, her eyes firmly fixed on Princess Arianne. "I may not be favourably inclined towards Prince Doran, but I am sorry for your imminent loss, Arianne, Oberyn."
  
  Princess Arianne nodded, acknowledging Daenerys's words. "You are very kind, Daenerys. My father will soon face the judgement of the Gods. I hope that his imminent demise will satisfy your sense of justice as far as he is concerned."
  
  "Of course!" Daenerys quickly agreed. "Aegon has already informed you that Prince Doran will be allowed to die in peace with his legacy intact. He made that decision with my full consent."
  
  Arianne bowed her head in thanks, and Prince Oberyn took over. "Then all that remains for us to do is inform you about the punishment that we devised for Prince Quentyn, which has already been carried out."
  
  "Again, King Aegon gave you free rein regarding this, and Prince Oberyn and I concurred," Dany stated. She was annoyed, however, for a bit of apprehension had crept into her voice. She was well aware of the Dornish's penchant for cruelty when they believed it was warranted, but surely they would not be too harsh on Prince Quentyn, who was their closest kin.
  
  Prince Oberyn continued, "Quentyn Martell and his descendants have been removed from the line of succession. Quentyn has been stripped of his princely title and must never set foot in Westeros again. His children or grandchildren may apply for our permission to visit Dorne if they so desire, but we will never allow Quentyn to return." Then he added, "We also chopped off his left hand."
  
  Daenerys frowned when the extent of Quentyn's punishment dawned on her. "I was told that he has a wife and a young child on the way. How will he provide for them? Your punishment will affect two innocent persons!"
  
  "Bah!" Princess Arianne exclaimed haughtily. "A pirate's daughter and her spawn!"
  
  "Arianne!" Prince Oberyn cautioned her.
  
  Daenerys held up a hand and countered, "A powerless female-one who was probably forced by her relations to wed Quentyn-and an innocent babe! I feel no satisfaction in this at all."
  
  "What if we agreed to support the mother and child if, in turn, they abstain from all future contact with Quentyn?" Prince Oberyn proposed.
  
  "Then the stupid woman would only turn over the coin to Quentyn, Uncle Oberyn!" Arianne snapped. Then she addressed Daenerys more calmly, arguing her case. "I watched my brother and the woman together, your Grace, and she was not the innocent victim that you imagine her to be. She seduced my brother into doing her bidding all this time! She also took pleasure in demeaning and hurting our servants."
  
  "You said the punishment has already been carried out. Do you even have a way of contacting them?" Dany asked, allowing herself time to consider this new information.
  
  "Of course! I have assigned a few men to spy on them and make sure that Quentyn abides by the rules of his exile," Prince Oberyn assured Daenerys in a matter-of-fact tone, as if spying on people was the most normal thing to do.
  
  'Perhaps for him it is,' Daenerys mused, then said out loud, "Let me discuss this first with Aegon before we take further action. I would still prefer that the baby, at least, be allowed to live a decent life."
  
  "We will take the wishes of our Queen and King under consideration," Oberyn replied in an even tone, sending a warning look to his niece.
  
  Princess Arianne pursed her lips. "Of course!"
  
  Daenerys sighed. It was time to put an end to this conversation. She needed to discuss all the repercussions of Prince Quentyn's punishment with Aegon. If Princess Arianne never married, and with Quentyn Martell now out of the picture, then Prince Trystane would become the heir to Dorne. Perhaps she and Aegon should peruse that list of bachelors and maidens once more. It was high time that Princess Arianne or Prince Trystane provided House Martell with the next generation of heirs, unless Oberyn relented and allowed Aegon to legalise the Sand Snakes. In that case, there would be an abundance of spare heirs! But, strangely, Oberyn had refused several offers from Aegon to legitimise his daughters.
  
  In the end, it took Jon's commanders two days to organise everything for the journey back to King's Landing. Everyone he trusted had pitched in to conduct the interrogations of the Stormlanders, but their meetings, including the one at which they made their final decisions, had taken up a day and a half. Eventually, the bulk of the Baratheon forces had pledged themselves to King Aegon and had been given leave to return to their homes. A small group of Baratheon prisoners had been accused of dishonourable conduct, and these men would be taken by the army to King's Landing to stand trial. The major Lords of the Stormlands had consented to travel with the royal caravan to King's Landing so they could proclaim their allegiance to House Targaryen during the first official court session in the presence of the King, the Queen, and several witnesses.
  
  The armies of the Reach, the Vale, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands took their leave. Lord Kevan Lannister asked to be excused from attending the victory celebration, claiming that his nephew, Lord Tyrion, could represent his house adequately. A few major Lords from each region agreed to attend. Lord Royce gave the knights of the Vale leave to return home. In his capacity of Master of Laws, he would accompany the King to the capital to oversee the trial and execution of Stannis Baratheon.
  
  After Jon had discussed Robb's upcoming wedding with Lord Brynden of House Tully, the Blackfish had offered to escort his niece and grandnieces north so they could all attend the wedding. Jon also eagerly accepted Lord Celtigar's offer to transport the Ironborn prisoners to the Wall. The future Lord of Claw Isle would wait in the Stormlands for more vessels of the royal fleet to arrive, while a large armada would travel by sea to Eastwatch. From there, Jon would arrange for some members of the Night's Watch, with the help of the Free Folk, to take custody of the Ironborn prisoners and distribute them among the manned castles alongside the Wall. He would send strict instructions to Commanders Pyke and Belmore to closely guard the dispersed Ironborn at all times. Jon hoped that the promise of a potential pardon by Yara Greyjoy would keep most of these men compliant, but it would not hurt to remain vigilant.
  
  Gendry had successfully kept Arya from leaving King's Landing. When word reached them of the King's imminent return, he had even convinced her not to sneak out and meet Jon halfway. Instead, they had stationed themselves in advance at the outer gates of the city. The moment they heard the distinct noise of a caravan approaching, Arya wormed herself out of Gendry's grip, ducked between two guards, and bolted out of the gate. The Golden Cloaks had to double their efforts to keep some of the smallfolk from following her example.
  
  For the first time, Gendry used his position as a future High Lord to confiscate a horse and convince the guards to let him pursue the escaped Stark Princess. He easily caught her before she was halfway out of the gates.
  
  "My hero!" Arya exclaimed, as Gendry grasped her hand and hoisted her in front of him in the saddle.
  
  "You will be the death of me one day, Princess!" Gendry muttered under his breath. He slowed his mount's pace when he noticed that Jon, who was riding up front, had been overtaken by several Kingsguard who had drawn their swords. Men shouted at the caravan to halt. Arya, seemingly unfazed, slipped off Gendry's horse, and Gendry's heart nearly stopped when he saw her speeding towards the approaching horses. He hardly dared watch, desperately hoping that the knights would be able to rein in their mounts before Arya got hurt.
  
  Fortunately, a white blur appeared out of nowhere and stopped Arya's reckless sprint. Arya hugged the huge direwolf before smiling broadly at Jon, who had come to a stop next to her. By the time Gendry caught up to them, the King had dismounted.
  
  "I'm sorry, your Grace!" Gendry shouted, slightly out of breath. He tried to grab Arya's hand, but she evaded him and hugged her cousin. Jon returned her hug briefly before freeing himself from her arms.
  
  "I had expected the Princess to show up much earlier, Lord Baratheon," Jon said in a formal tone, but the relaxed expression on his face reassured Gendry. "I know I asked the impossible of you, and you were- almost -successful!"
  
  "I wanted to be the first to congratulate you and see with my own eyes that you were unharmed, Jon!" Arya explained with her usual fervour, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that she had singlehandedly forced a caravan of thousands of soldiers to interrupt their march. "Where is Daenerys? Is she alright? We heard horrible stories before we received word from you!"
  
  "She will be." Jon gave Arya a tense smile. "Ser Gerold, have someone bring a horse to the Queen's wagon and ask her if she would be willing to ride these last few miles to the Red Keep by my side."
  
  Jon turned back to Arya and studied her for a moment. "Although I am certainly glad to see you, Arya, you really shouldn't be here right now! It would give the wrong impression to those who witness our return."
  
  "My King! Ser Gerold!" Gendry called. "A word of warning: I believe all of King's Landing has come out in the streets to cheer for their King and his victorious army! The City Watch is out there in full force, but-"
  
  Ser Gerold frowned. "We must change our formation, my King. I'm glad you chose to wear your full armour, if not your helmet. We shall have some foot soldiers take the lead, then a small part of the cavalry followed by you and the Queen, and your Kingsguard will surround both of you. The nobles and the rest of the army may follow as they please."
  
  Jon nodded. "I will ride as close to the Queen's horse as possible and remain vigilant. Lord Baratheon, will you take Princess Arya back to the city? I am sure she does not intend to claim credit for our victory by marching by our side."
  
  "Gladly!" Gendry said, successfully grabbing Arya's arm this time. "Come along, Princess! I am sure the King will tell you all that you want to hear later."
  
  Arya pouted. "Can't we at least wait until Daenerys shows up? I was worried, is all."
  
  "I am well; I merely have a broken arm." Daenerys appeared from behind Jon's horse. Ser Arthur followed her, leading a beautiful white mare.
  
  "You look pale!" Arya observed, forgetting her courtesies.
  
  "Address her with a bit more respect, Arya!" Gendry whispered ferociously.
  
  "I'm sure I do not look my best, but perhaps I may be excused since I am returning from war, Princess Arya." Daenerys chuckled. "I see living at court has not tamed your wild spirit one bit!"
  
  Arya curtsied awkwardly. "Glad you made it here in one piece, my Queen, my King." She winked at Jon and took two steps backwards. With her nose in the air, flawlessly copying her mother's haughty demeanour, she added, "Lord Baratheon, what in the Seven Heavens are you waiting for? Do you not understand that you must escort a Princess of the North back to the city without further delay?"
  
  Gendry rolled his eyes, bowed before Jon and Daenerys, and helped Arya mount his horse.
  
  "We'll see each other later, cousin!" Jon called after Arya, who waved at him as she and Gendry rode away.
  
  The smallfolk had indeed flocked to the streets in large numbers to cheer loudly and give the returning armies a hero's welcome. Ever since news of the King's great victory had reached King's Landing, the streets had been filled with music and laughter. Jon and Dany revelled in the applause of the smallfolk as they rode through the city.
  
  The next day everything was set for Stannis Baratheon's execution in front of the Sept of Baelor. His council was confident that everything would go smoothly. Ever since the verdict had been announced, no protests had been staged and no one had petitioned for a stay of Stannis' execution or for having his sentence commuted to lifelong service at the Wall. Apparently, very few people would mourn Stannis Baratheon's death. Lady Shireen was one of these few. Ever since news of her father's capture had reached her, she had sequestered herself in her rooms. She had refused to visit her father one last time, pleading illness. Not wishing to force her hand, Daenerys had accepted the written apology of her lady-in-waiting. Jon felt deeply for Shireen as well. He had dispatched a delegation to Storm's End to parlay with Lady Selyse, for he had not yet received a reply to his invitation he had sent to live in King's Landing as his guest.
  
  When the sun reached its zenith, Jon stepped out of the Sept and descended the necessary steps to approach the podium that had been erected on a platform halfway down. From there he had a good overview of the large crowd that wanted to witness the beheading. Nobles and smallfolk seemed equally represented on the front rows. He stepped aside as Stannis Baratheon was brought forward and made to kneel in front of the executioner's block. Lord Royce's loud, booming voice read the charges followed immediately by the verdict the jury had reached.
  
  The exact moment that Lord Royce lowered the scroll, Jon stepped forward. True to the old ways of the North the King himself would take up the role of Stannis' executioner. Jon was fully aware of the role he needed to play today. King Aegon VI had come out to exact justice. Jon had not put on his full harness but wore the famous breast plate adorned with red rubies. In two confident strides he reached Stannis Baratheon and in dramatic fashion unsheathed Blackfyre. The tell-tale ringing sound of his Valyrian steel sword drew a few gasps from the crowd but otherwise they remained silent, eagerly waiting for his next move.
  
  Jon projected calmness and authority as he looked upon the convict. "Any last words Stannis Baratheon? Now would be the time."
  
  Stannis turned his head sideways and gave Jon a look filled with loathing. Then he faced the crowd once more. "I am the representative of the Lord of Light in this realm. By sacrificing me you will doom every living soul. I was the Lord of Light's promised saviour, the only one that could stave off the Darkness and bring the Dawn. Soon there will be no more tomorrow for Westeros. R'hllor will doom you all to perpetual darkness and suffering and soon Westeros will be nothing but a graveyard. Death is coming for you all!"
  
  Despite the ominous declaration, the crowd booed loudly, and some smallfolk positioned close enough to the podium threw rotten food at Stannis' head. Jon quickly stepped back to avoid a stinky egg from hitting his breastplate. He held up his hand, and soon the crowd apparently calmed down. Jon was about to continue with the proceedings when one man standing in the back shouted, "Off with the traitor's head already!" And chants of 'Traitor! Traitor!' were picked up by the majority of the spectators.
  
  Jon exchanged a quick glance with Lord Royce, and the two soldiers stepped forward and pushed Stannis Baratheon's head onto the block. Jon took one last look at the unrepentant man below him. Stannis's face, hair, and entire upper body was now dripping with the remnants of rotten tomatoes, eggs, and various other foods. His head lay in the correct position for execution and his eyes were closed. Apparently resigned to his fate, he was quietly chanting a prayer to his Lord of Light. The crowd fell silent as Jon raised his famous sword. One clean slice with the Valyrian steel, and it was over. Stannis Baratheon had been given the death he had chosen: death by sword. One of the soldiers picked up his head and showed it to the crowd, who started cheering for King Aegon.
  
  Jon ignored them all and hurried to the left of the podium, where he joined his Kingsguard, Daenerys, and the Dragonguards in charge of guarding her. Moments later, the royal couple had left the square without the crowd's knowledge. They soon reached the gates of the Red Keep and, from there, hurried through the secret passages beneath the Keep to visit the dragons at the beach. Nothing could keep Dany away from them any longer. She and Jon had both sensed immediately that Viserion had arrived at the beach mere moments after Jon had beheaded Stannis Baratheon.
  
  Viserion's big form lay inert in the sand but the dragon immediately lifted his head, his eyes very alert as Jon and Dany stepped out onto the beach. He raised his front legs and snorted loudly in their direction. This awoke Rhaegal from his slumber. The green dragon also lifted his head and stretched his neck to reach the hand that his human held out when the royal couple had come within touching distance. Jon with an arm around Dany's shoulder encouraged her to join him in petting Rhaegal. Viserion snorted again and bumped his large muzzle against Dany's arm. Dany suppressed a smile as she turned and started rubbing the scales under Viserion's eyes. This time the dragon purred and rested his head against her side. All of them felt the dragon's willingness to forge a new dynamic.
  
  With Rhaegal's assistance, Jon helped Dany understand that Viserion had reconsidered his former state of independence. After his ordeal, and after realizing that a rider as monstrous as Euron could have been forced on him, Viserion now believed that it would be wise to give up part of his freedom and to bond with Daenerys. He had witnessed how Rhaegal and his rider had successfully fought the horn's magic together, and he now yearned to have a similar relationship with his own rider. He had learned the hard way that a dragon might be fearless and mighty, but not invulnerable.
  
  When Jon had finished his explanation, Dany beamed and petted Viserion, whispering in the dragon's ear that she was glad that he found her worthy. Then, speaking in High Valyrian, she promised the dragon, "I will always have your best interests in mind. And since I am mated with your brother's rider, there will be four of us. We can all look out for each other."
  
  Jon smiled broadly when he translated part of Viserion's response. "Four stronger than two. Two stronger than one." Jon did not disclose that Viserion knew that Dany would never be able to communicate with him as Jon, due to his warging abilities, could communicate with Rhaegal. What mattered was that Viserion was determined to establish a respectful bond with his chosen rider.
  
  "I will come to the beach as often as you need me to, until our bonding is complete," Dany promised Viserion in High Valyrian. "If it helps, I will even sleep out here on some nights."
  
  "Not without me, you won't!" Jon protested light-heartedly. Then he petted Viserion. "Let us know if you are getting fed up with us and need a little space. You don't realise what you've just gotten yourself into, partner!"
  
  At that point, Rhaegal suddenly separated both Jon and Dany from his brother with his large muzzle. Dany fell on top of Jon on the soft sand, and Jon quickly took advantage of this opportunity to kiss her senseless before releasing her. They were wiping the sand off their clothes when Viserion lowered his wing and Rhaegal did the same.
  
  "We have time for a short trip, don't we?" Dany looked pleadingly at Jon, who nodded, still somewhat winded from their passionate embrace.
  
  After circling around Dragonstone and the Driftmark, Jon and Dany returned to the beach. Before leaving, they promised the dragons that they would find a way to destroy the horn and that all four of them would fly to the Driftmark to deal with the cursed object once and for all. They all agreed that the horn was safely hidden for the time being. Viserion had buried it deep inside their cave at the Driftmark, where no living soul would find it anytime soon.
  
  The next day
  
  Jon and Dany were in his study after breakfast, going through the messages on his desk, when Sam burst in unceremoniously and silently handed Jon a small scroll. Jon took it and held it before him so Dany could read along with him. It contained the news that Lady Selyse of House Baratheon had jumped to her death when word reached her that her husband had been captured. Her lifeless body had been found on the rocks at the foot of the Keep. Shireen was well and truly an orphan now, solely under Jon's care until she married. Dany and Jon exchanged glances, and both quickly left the study and hurried to the door of Lady Shireen's bedchamber.
  
  At the pair's insistence, Lady Shireen allowed them to enter her chambers. Jon was relieved to see that she looked presentable: she was wearing a morning gown and her hair was neatly arranged. She looked calm but pale as she offered her King and Queen a seat. Jon had never set foot in a room belonging to one of Dany's ladies, and he was pleasantly surprised by its high windows and cosy atmosphere. Shireen sat in front of Jon and Dany, and then, as gently as they could, they broke the news of her mother's death. At first Lady Shireen barely reacted, but when Jon looked at her more closely, he noticed that her hands were balled into fists and her lower lip had begun trembling. Jon looked at Dany for support.
  
  "Shireen," Dany called softly. "Shireen?" But Shireen merely lowered her head and avoided their eyes.
  
  Jon couldn't take it any longer. He knelt in front of Shireen, took one of her hands in his, and gently unfurled her little fist. "Nobody blames you for your father's actions, Shireen," he said softly. "We have proven that more than once. You have us. You have Gendry. Your Uncle Renly will also suggest that you go live with him. You still have plenty of family left to turn to. And Daenerys and I would love for you to stay here with us in the Red Keep for as long as you want."
  
  Shireen started crying, and Jon turned again to Dany for support. Dany gently led Shireen to the middle of the sofa so she could sit between Jon and Dany. Dany held her close while Jon continued to hold her hand. "It will be all right, Shireen We all love you. I will write to Lord Newton and let him know what happened," Jon promised her, hoping that mention of Domeric might help. "I am sure he will write back once he receives the raven. We will all help you, Shireen. Just tell us what you need and, if it is in our power, we shall make sure that you get it."
  
  Shireen lifted her tear-stained face and looked at Jon. "I would like to be left alone for now so I can rest. I do not wish to appear ungrateful, but I need some time to consider my options. I promise to let you know my decision soon. I would also be grateful if you send word of what happened to Lord Newton."
  
  "Of course, I will take care of it straight away!" Jon promised.
  
  "Thank you," Shireen whispered. She had calmed down a bit. "Perhaps you could also ask Gendry to join me for dinner in my room?"
  
  "Consider it done as well," Jon answered, wondering whether or not to get up. Meanwhile, Dany handed her own handkerchief to Shireen, since Shireen's was completely soaked with tears, and gestured for Jon to leave them alone.
  
  Jon sighed and left the room without saying a word. Knowing from experience that taking action would make him feel better, he strode in the direction of his study. First, he would write the missive for Domeric, and then he would go find Gendry and fill him in on what had happened.
  
  Sometime later, Dany joined her husband in his study and told him that Shireen was asleep. Jon informed her that he had arranged for the two of them to have a private luncheon with Uncle Benjen and Aunt Ashara so that they could relax a bit. He had deliberately not sent Princess Catelyn an invitation. Instead, he would appease his Aunt by promising her a place of honour at tonight's banquet. She had already been given a seat of honour at Edric's knighting ceremony yesterday.
  
  After lunch, Uncle Benjen asked Jon to take a stroll with him in the Godswood, and Jon accepted gladly. Aside from exchanging information during lunch, they had not found the time to truly talk. Uncle Benjen soon steered the conversation toward the battle that Jon had recently fought in.
  
  "I hardly saw any action, Uncle!" Jon admitted his disappointment as they entered the Godswood, which had been cleared ahead of their arrival so that Jon and his uncle could have some privacy. Jon took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the trees as he walked. His uncle kept pace with him, undoubtedly enjoying this peaceful moment as well.
  
  Moments later, Jon resumed their conversation. "I was never in any danger during the battle. As you know from the debriefing, Stannis Baratheon and Euron Greyjoy had only left a few hundred soldiers behind as decoys. The battle was over before it could truly begin. And, even then, I was hardly able to engage the enemy! I was so pumped up when I charged over the field toward the Ironborn. I rode on the front lines next to Ghost and my Kingsguard, knocking my first two opponents unconscious with only a few strokes of my sword. But the next thing I knew, three of my Kingsguard had overtaken me while the others closed ranks on either side of me. I was relegated to being a mere spectator!"
  
  "They're your Kingsguard, Jon. They kept you safe from the chaos that ensues when two armies clash," Uncle Benjen explained drily as Jon paused.
  
  "And what a Kingsguard!" Jon exclaimed enthusiastically, with a note of respect evident in his voice. "They were so attuned to each other! I finally understand why they are called a 'brotherhood' and why they live together in such confined quarters. Even their newer members knew exactly where to position themselves so as to form a watertight defense around me without losing their offensive advantage. They kept advancing and cutting down the enemy without once leaving a gap."
  
  Jon's admiration for his Kingsguard had not entirely replaced his frustration, however. He knew he had the abilities to qualify as the eighth member of that highly coordinated group. Instead, he had simply clutched his sword and felt useless. All he had been required to do was steer his horse to keep up with those of his Kingsguard.
  
  Many of Jon's soldiers, however, had fought valiantly, some in more than one battle. Only yesterday, Jon had honoured five of these men who had displayed extraordinary courage and valour as they fought, and who had also saved lives or captured important prisoners. "Ser Gerold trained your men well," Uncle Benjen said approvingly after listening to Jon's account. Then he added, "I heard that Lord Tarly took care of the Baratheon's forces in the Westerlands.
  
  "He did," Jon sighed, wondering again whether he had made the right decision. He had chosen to hunt down and intercept the Baratheon army that had been fleeing west to join with what they assumed were friendly forces led by Lord Tarly. Stannis Baratheon, however, had left earlier than expected, and so when Jon and his army had arrived, the entire situation had already been resolved. There had been no signs of battle. The enemy forces had already been subdued and imprisoned, and Stannis Baratheon himself had been confined in a solitary cell.
  
  The two men stopped walking and sat on two tree trunks near the weirwood sapling. "Lord Tarly won the day without needing to fight," Jon continued. "The Lord of Horn Hill did indeed live up to his reputation as a military genius. To be fair, he did act with some honour: he called for a parlay with Stannis Baratheon and demanded that he surrender. However, he only did this after his trusting opponent had led his entire army into the trap."
  
  Jon recalled that Lord Tarly's forces had cut off almost all of the escape routes, forcing the self-proclaimed King Stannis the First to turn back the way he had come and to face the incoming Targaryen army. Stannis, however, had ordered his men to stand down instead. Jon stopped reminiscing and continued their conversation. "According to what I was told, Lord Randyll Tarly very smugly informed Stannis Baratheon that his pitiful excuse of an army would face the combined forces of the Riverlands, the Vale, the Crownlands, and even a small force of Stormland Lords who were now loyal to King Aegon. Those, and a dragon or two." Jon scowled.
  
  "Isn't that what you wanted, though?" Benjen Stark asked, pointing out the obvious. "Bloodshed was kept to a minimum and you were unharmed. As our King, it is vital that you remain alive and well."
  
  "I have been told the same by Davos, Ser Gerold, everyone I speak to. Prince Oberyn even went as far as praising Ser Gerold out loud."
  
  "Ser Gerold? How so?" Uncle Benjen asked, amused at Jon's exasperated sigh.
  
  "Oberyn was most eloquent." Jon began his explanation. "As we were rode back to King's Landing, he boasted about the number of Ironborn he had cut down. Everything is a competition for him. I couldn't hide from him my frustration at being prevented from engaging with the enemy even after I had already slain two of them."
  
  "That doesn't explain his praising Ser Gerold," Uncle Benjen persisted.
  
  "Well, he did. His exact words were: 'I must remember to congratulate Ser Gerold; I couldn't have orchestrated it better! Everyone will remember the young, heroic King on the frontlines, racing toward his enemy and striking down the first few men he encountered with great courage. What happens next is never remembered in the songs, except for the outcome of the battle. Your Kingsguard kept you safe without tarnishing your reputation. Extremely well done! I am almost jealous that I was not a part of it.' " Jon sighed again.
  
  "But he is right, you know," Benjen Stark said gravely.
  
  "I know," Jon admitted reluctantly. "Davos made me see reason. He told me I would have to get used to having others fight my battles for me." Jon mimicked Davos' voice. "That is their duty, son. You're a King now and should put your Kingdoms above all else. You also have a family to protect. The time for foolish, heroic deeds has come and gone."
  
  Benjen stayed silent. It was better to let Jon vent his frustration instead of keeping it all in.
  
  "Sam said more of the same," Jon continued his complaint. "The only ones to sympathise with me have been Arya and Gendry. Big surprise there." Jon smiled despite himself, and was surprised to discover that he felt somewhat better.
  
  Uncle Benjen returned his smile and changed the subject to Robb's upcoming wedding. During the walk back to the Keep, both men became lost in their own thoughts. Jon's drifted to the approaching conflict in the North. No matter how much his men wanted to shield him, he was convinced that he would play a pivotal role in the Great War. They would have no choice but to allow him to confront the Night King himself. It was his destiny. He would increase his training now that he was back in the capital. Seven excellent White Cloaks or not, in order to stand a chance against this enemy, he needed to become the best warrior the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.
  
  Jon had scheduled one final meeting that day with Melisandre, Thoros, and Sam to summarize their findings and list all the necessary preparations for the supernatural aspect of the coming war. Gendry, Ser Gerold, and Dany were organising the logistics with Gendry focusing on the weapons, Ser Gerold on selecting the men who would accompany them north and on preparing transport, and Dany on coordinating the food supplies and on the manufacturing of warm coats, hats, and gloves. Once again, the smallfolk on Dragonstone and at the Driftmark were a huge help. Jon remained in contact with the Northern Lords and the Commanders of Castle Black and Eastwatch to oversee the military preparations, the growing stockpile of firewood, and other necessary materials.
  
  Jon left the tunnel and smelled the fresh sea air. He had agreed to the request of Thoros and the red priestess that their meeting be held on the beach. Both servants of R'hllor were fascinated with the dragons. Jon wandered over to a flat rock and waited for Sam, Thoros, and Melisandre. He scanned the skies and let the sun warm his skin. He marvelled at the difference in the climates of the Crownlands and the Stormlands, despite the two regions not being too far apart. When he and his men had been in the Stormlands, harsh winds and rainstorms had hindered them on several occasions, and they had often had to adapt their plans to the weather. Storms in that region could roll in rather quickly and then end just as abruptly, and Jon had been soaked through more than once by an unexpected rainstorm.
  
  In King's Landing, it hardly ever rained, and the only reason they were never short of water was that several small rivers carried the excess water from the Stormlands to the Crownlands. One of the first laws Jon had passed was that no waste was to be dumped in the fresh water streams, but was to be disposed of instead in the saltwater bays.
  
  Jon scanned his surroundings. His Kingsguard as usual stood guard near the entrance of the passageways, letting him walk freely on the beach as long as he was alone. Shortly afterward, Jon saw them approach with the three people whom he was expecting. He stopped walking and waited for them to join him. After they had all greeted each other, Sam sat down next to Jon and took out his writing utensils. The two servants of the Lord of Light, Melisandre of Asshai and Thoros of Myr, seated themselves on the rock facing them.
  
  "It is peaceful out here." Thoros admired the scenery. "Where are the dragons?"
  
  "They are resting close by," Jon answered. "They can appear in the blink of an eye if need be. Between them and my Kingsguard, I am better protected out here than in the Red Keep."
  
  "The ideal place to hold a secret meeting if the weather permits," Thoros said, smiling. "I trust there will be no storms rolling in anytime soon?"
  
  "There might be some in the Stormlands, but none here today, or so I was told," Jon answered, returning his smile. "Shall we start with the most important matter? We must find a way to destroy the horn."
  
  "Indeed," Melisandre said in her usual dramatic tone. "No good can come to those without pure Valyrian blood who use it."
  
  "How did Euron Greyjoy ever believe it would work?" Sam wondered.
  
  Jon realised that Sam was not yet aware of the wizard's information about the horn. Jon and his companions had interrogated the warlock in the Stormlands and then allowed him to leave Westeros on a boat heading east. Jon quickly shared the main points of the wizard's explanation with his friend. "Euron used blood magic. He smeared his own blood on the mouthpiece and forced slaves with diluted Valyrian blood to blow the horn. Each time they did this, the horn made a terrible sound, and every single one of those slaves perished moments later. The sound hurt the dragons and messed with their minds so much that they would agree to anything just to make the pain stop. As the wizard explained it, the off-key sound that the horn produced was not the sound needed to actually enslave a dragon. Nevertheless, it hurt the dragons like hell, and their sight also got affected. At one point, Rhaegal was almost completely blind. Fortunately, Rhaegal and I managed to merge our minds, and together we succeeded in blocking the horn's sound. Viserion, though, was not as lucky, and I can only imagine how much he suffered. As he healed, his fear of Euron Greyjoy using the horn again to cause him excruciating pain was what stripped him of his will to fight back."
  
  "The wizard explained all of that to you?" Sam asked Jon.
  
  "Some of it," Jon replied, "and Viserion shared some of his traumatic experiences the other day."
  
  "Melisandre added, "I was there when it all happened, and I persuaded Queen Daenerys to blow the horn. I knew she would be fine. Her blood is purer than yours-no offense meant, my King. However, I would not have dared to suggest that she do it had I not seen in the fire that she would survive."
  
  Jon nodded and continued. "The sound that the horn made when Daenerys blew it was apparently enchanting: a warm harmonic cord. What made all the difference was that she did not blow the horn with the intent to enslave a dragon."
  
  Melisandre nodded emphatically. "I convinced the Queen to instead ask the dragon to become her partner, her equal."
  
  "You mean, uh, the Queen enslaved the dragon successfully?" Sam's eyes were wide as saucers.
  
  Jon shook his head. "No, Sam. The wizard told us that the timing was wrong. Viserion was still in pain and his mind could not absorb the magic."
  
  Sam stared at Jon, deep in thought. "But-" he began, then bit his lip when Jon interrupted. "I think it is more respectful to Viserion and Daenerys to allow them to bond naturally rather than force the bond using magic."
  
  Sam nodded, but was still thinking deeply it. He frowned as he asked Jon, "If the horn can help true Valyrians bond with a dragon, do you not wish the Queen to use it on Viserion after he has healed? Or to keep the horn for your descendants to use?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "The horn is too dangerous to be allowed to exist in this realm. You read my father's diary. Targaryens have a natural ability to bond with the dragons, as long as they can convince the dragon that their motives are pure and that they will respect the dragon. Then there are the edicts from my Targaryen ancestor that I have sworn to uphold. One of these is to never treat a dragon like a slave. We should allow them their free will and their right to choose whether or not to take a rider. Daenerys agrees with me on this. We both want the horn destroyed. And besides, I don't think we really have a say in this, because the dragons have the horn in their possession."
  
  "The flames showed me the horn's destruction. It is the will of R'hllor," Melisandre spoke in her strange manner.
  
  "Thoros?" Jon wanted to hear the Red Priest's opinion. Somehow, Jon trusted him more than the priestess, whom he still associated with Stannis Baratheon's burning people alive to placate her Red God.
  
  Thoros looked at Jon. "I propose that we build a fire and pray for the Lord of Light to guide us in this matter. If two of his servants and the Prince That Was Promised pray together for his guidance, he may be willing to show us the answer to our dilemma."
  
  They all stood and began collecting pieces of driftwood, aided by Jon's Kingsguard. When they had assembled a large enough pile to keep a fire burning for quite some time, Thoros took out two small stones and struck them together to create a spark. It did not take long for the fire to build up.
  
  Jon sat staring at the dancing flames for a long time. Not only did he see images in the fire, but words formed in his mind as well. The Lord of Light clearly believed him to be worthy. When the connection fizzled out, Jon realized that all of his companions were staring at him. "What is it?" he asked when none of them reacted.
  
  "Your Grace," Melisandre spoke with a note of awe in her voice. "You were glowing! The Lord of Light has bestowed his blessing upon you!"
  
  Thoros and Sam nodded when Jon looked to them for confirmation. "You were, Jon. You were a beacon of light!" Sam knew Jon would certainly believe his words.
  
  "Did the three of you see any visions in the flames?" Jon asked, before revealing what he had learned.
  
  "I saw how the combined flames from the two dragons, along with the chants of a servant of R'hllor, successfully melted the Valyrian bands on the horn. That broke the magic spell so that the horn could then be completely destroyed by brute force," Thoros informed Jon.
  
  "Sam?" Jon asked, turning to his friend.
  
  "Sorry, Jon, I only saw flames. And then I only had eyes for you and had to hold back your Kingsguard when you started glowing," Sam replied nervously.
  
  "Anything else?" Jon asked Thoros and Melisandre.
  
  The servants of R'hllor exchanged glances, then Melisandre replied, "Thoros and I are needed at the Wall to assist you in your fight against the Great Other."
  
  "True," Jon agreed, "but not both of you at once. One of you must set out immediately," he said, addressing Melisandre alone. "You will need to find my cousin Brandon north of the Wall and bring him a candle that I will give you. Don't show it to anyone. It is one of a set of two special candles. The other will remain in my possession. If we both succeed in lighting these candles, we will be able to communicate with each other, using both words and images. These two magic candles were mentioned in some old books that I found. What these books do not mention, however, is that the candles will not work when someone 'unworthy,' or not one of 'the chosen ones,' tries to use them. This means that anyone who hears about these candles will want to steal them from you, believing they can use them themselves. Therefore, keep the candle hidden on your person at all times. Do not take it out of its wrapping, and tell no one about it. It is imperative that the candle reaches my cousin intact!"
  
  Thoros looked at Jon in awe. "I have heard tales about these candles. If I may ask, how did you come by them, my King?"
  
  Jon kept his explanation simple. "My father, Prince Rhaegar, found them. He was preparing for the war against the dead and was obsessed with the prophecy."
  
  "Your House is truly blessed by the Lord of Light!" Melisandre declared. "I was truly mistaken in believing that Stannis Baratheon was the Lord's chosen one! And I am thoroughly ashamed of the methods that I used in my misguided attempt to save the realm from the Darkness."
  
  "You were tricked by a dark force who posed as R'hllor," Jon explained calmly. Everyone gaped at him.
  
  "The Lord of Light just spoke to me, and he vouched for you." Jon kept his expression neutral, trying not to react to the devout expressions on the faces of both Thoros and Melisandre. He still needed to process everything that the Red God had told him, and to come to terms with how he had just conducted what amounted to a conversation with a foreign God. It had been much more direct than the visions the Old Gods had sent him in the past. He had actually been allowed to interact with this deity-or that at least had been the illusion that the god had created in his mind. R'hllor had answered some of Jon's questions immediately after they had popped up in his head.
  
  Melisandre knelt before Jon, raised both hands to the heavens, and began chanting, "The Lord of Light has shone his light upon you! The Lord of Light has granted you his wisdom! Oh praise be! The Lord of Light will defend us, for the night is dark and full of terrors!"
  
  "For the night is dark and full of terrors!" Thoros repeated, and both servants of the Lord of Light bowed their heads in devotion.
  
  Jon looked at Sam, who simply shrugged his shoulders. Jon bowed his head in respect for a few moments as well, not bothering to check if Sam was doing the same. His mind was still reeling with everything that had been revealed to him. All his actions were empowering the Night King and vice versa. The outcome of the Great War still hung in the balance. Consulting with Bran would be key, and to do that, Melisandre would have to leave with a proper escort as soon as possible.
  
  And what had been most worrisome for Jon were the whispers of "Nissa, Nissa," combined with the promise that he had been compelled to give. He had solemnly promised the Lord of Light that he would consult the flames shortly before his heir was born. Once again, Jon found himself burdened with secrets that he could not share with anyone-not yet, at least. When Bran finally had the candle, Jon felt he might be ready to share those secrets with him. Now, though, his instincts ordered him to keep silent. But whether they were truly his instincts, or the will of the Red God, Jon was not entirely sure.
  
  Interlude 53: Parting is such sweet sorrow
  
  Sansa was secretly rejoicing at Edric's closeness. They sat next to each other in a secluded spot in the Godswood, their hands joined in Edric's lap, their fingers closely woven together. Gendry and Arya were supposed to be their chaperones, but Sansa had solemnly promised them that she and Edric would do nothing more intimate than holding hands and talking. Arya had successfully convinced Gendry to let the couple wander off on their own; the strong, formidable Lord of House Baratheon simply could not refuse Arya's puppy eyes. Sansa had promised to meet them at the exit of the Godswood before lunch.
  
  It was both Sansa and Edric's last day in King's Landing, but Sansa did her best to keep their conversation light, with no mention of their imminent parting. She would not say goodbye to him until the very last moment. "It was such a nice feast! And I liked that it coincided with the two hundredth day of my cousin's reign." Sansa smiled up at Edric. "You looked splendid in your new outfit, Ser Edric! Mother was also impressed, and I believe she is warming up to you."
  
  Edric squeezed her hand. "I had help. And, if I am not mistaken, you had a hand in sewing the tunic that the King gave me to wear for the ceremony."
  
  "I assisted with the embroidering," Sansa admitted. Then she remembered her mother's strange mood swings. "Did you notice my uncle's and Lady Ashara's attempts to persuade Mother to smile last night while we were dancing?"
  
  "I only had eyes for you , sweet Sansa." Edric looked deep into her eyes. "All I remember is how polite your mother was when she accepted my request for a dance with you. And there might have been a hint of a smile on her face."
  
  "It was very considerate of you to ask her instead of me. If it had been any other man, I would have been insulted at not being asked directly, but you struck the right note: not subservient, but still considerate of Mother's status and her close connection to the King."
  
  "All part of the plan!" Edric said smiling. "The King and Queen didn't dance much. I did not see them on the dance floor after the opening dance."
  
  "They danced the first dance after the break as well," Sansa told him, and sighed. "He held her ever so sweetly! I envied them. As for us, we had to maintain the required distance for mere acquaintances prescribed by court protocol."
  
  "And keep our faces in check and pretend to be bored," Edric agreed. "While Jon could admire his wife as much as he wished!"
  
  The pair sat in silence for a while until Edric found another safe topic to bring up. "Arya looked nice in her new dress. I gather she has you to thank for it as well?"
  
  Sansa beamed. "I designed it, chose the colour myself, and assisted the seamstress in making it. I also helped Arya braid her hair."
  
  "Then you deserve all the compliments that come your way, dearest Sansa! Arya truly looked beautiful. I saw several heads turn her way! She may never outshine you, but she is a beauty in her own right. I reckon some of those Lords who asked her to dance would not recognise her if they saw her in the training yard this morning."
  
  Sandra frowned. "I begged her not to offend any suitors, but she merely proclaimed that they were of no consequence."
  
  "But Gendry is?" Edric prodded, fishing for information.
  
  "He is her friend," Sansa corrected him. "Arya declares that he is nothing more than a very good friend who helps her keep her suitors at bay. She compares their relationship to her friendship with Jon."
  
  "For now." Edric looked pensive. "People change, feelings change, you know. Attachments can either grow deeper or die a slow death. Absence and distance have been known to cause those changes."
  
  Edric sighed when Sansa looked away and bowed her head. He released her hands and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look at him. "Sansa, I have to go south to Starfall. You are headed to Winterfell. It is hardly possible to put more distance between us than that."
  
  Sansa blushed. She removed Edric's hand from her chin and turned away from him again. "What are you saying, Edric? Do you want me to release you from your vow?"
  
  "No! Sansa, please look at me!" Edric begged. "I don't want you bound by a promise when I myself can't promise you when, or if, we will ever see each other again after today!"
  
  Sansa obeyed and sat sideways so she could observe Edric's reactions more closely. "I won't remain in the North forever, you know. I intend to return to King's Landing and continue serving Daenerys," she declared, all her shyness gone. "And are you not coming North soon? With the army, I mean. I know about the Great War."
  
  Edric nodded gloomily. "Then you also know that there is no fixed timetable for it yet. And we will be heading straight for the Wall, so there is not much of a chance that we can drop by Winterfell for a visit."
  
  "You should know then that I intend to speak with Father and tell him about all your heroic deeds and your knighthood," Sansa said with determination. "May I also tell him that you own a Valyrian sword? Or is that still a secret?"
  
  Edric's eyes wandered to the pommel of the beautiful sword that Jon had given him after the knighting ceremony, when only he, Jon, and Jon's closest advisors had been left in the throne room. Jon had handed him the Valyrian sword with a pommel that ended in a golden star, and then he had been asked to swear a rather long oath. Some of the pledges he had made were similar to his knightly vows, but the pledge that Jon had asked him to make went much further in adherence to the edicts of Jon's Targaryen ancestors. Afterwards Jon had apologised and explained that swearing this oath was the only way for Edric to claim ownership of the sword. Edric had thanked him profusely and named his Sword 'Rising Star'.
  
  "You may tell you Father about my sword as long as you also mention that the King wants us to keep it a secret for now," Edric told Sansa. "I trust that your father will not breathe a word about it to anyone else."
  
  "I will tell him about the sword and describe your knighthood ceremony at length. Now that you are a knight of the realm who possesses a Valyrian sword, surely Father must at least consider your suit?" Sansa pleaded, holding out her hand.
  
  Edric grabbed her hand as if he were a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. "Sansa, are you sure about us? We have quarrelled before, and I do not wish to part from you again with doubts in my mind. These past few months have not been easy for me. I was relieved when Jon allowed us to exchange short messages. Before I received your first few notes, I wasn't sure whether you would ever talk to me again!"
  
  "I am sure! What must I do to persuade you?" Sansa cried desperately. Edric was startled at her tone, so she immediately composed herself, and spoke her next few words in a calmer, but still passionate, tone. "Everyone thinks I am a fickle being, but this is not true! I know my heart, Edric. It is you whom I want to marry! I love you, Edric! I will refuse any other suitor who asks for my hand! And if Father has doubts about us, Jon will help me convince him." Sansa took Edric's face in both her hands. "It is you, Edric, only you. You must believe me!"
  
  Edric gently removed her hands. "We promised Gendry and Arya that we would behave, Sansa," he reminded her. "I will do my best to believe you, and you must write to me often to help me keep that belief alive."
  
  "Edric," Sansa said slowly, "we are in a Godswood. What if I vowed before a heart tree? It is a sacred vow in the North, considered unbreakable."
  
  "Sansa..." Edric's voice faltered.
  
  "Not wedding vows, but a secret betrothal. If I speak the words before a heart tree, I will be promised to you in the eyes of the Gods. Please, Edric!" Again Sansa took his face in her hands.
  
  Edric looked at her longingly. "I wish I could accept, Sansa. I would want nothing more than to promise myself to you before your Gods! But without your father's consent, it is not honourable."
  
  "That is not true!" Sansa swallowed. "It is honourable! It is only a promise that we shall make to each other. It will help us endure our separation until we marry. It only becomes dishonourable if you change your mind and marry someone else. And you will not be betraying my parents' trust because have not touched me where you shouldn't. You will simply pledge to wait for me and remain chaste until we are allowed to marry."
  
  Edric took Sansa's hands in his. "Pledge or no pledge, I will marry you, Sansa! No matter how long your father makes us wait. Even if I have to wait until-" He stopped and his entire face lit up. "All right, I agree! Let's do this! And, afterward, perhaps a brief kiss is permitted to seal such heartfelt vows?" Edric smiled as Sansa pulled him to his feet and in the direction of the heart tree.
  
  "What do you think they are doing?" Gendry asked Arya. They had wandered to their usual spot in the Godswood, a small clearing that Arya had discovered some time ago. To reach it, Gendry had to duck awkwardly beneath a tangle of branches. His large frame made it more difficult for him to get there than Arya's shorter, leaner form.
  
  Arya quickly put him at ease. "Talking and holding hands as promised. Perhaps one quick peck on the cheek before they part? Don't worry, Gendry. I trust Sansa."
  
  "And I trust Edric." Gendry smiled. "All right, I will stop worrying. Did you enjoy the feast last night?"
  
  "It was all right," Arya replied. "I enjoyed observing everyone. Did you see the face of that newly-knighted Ser Owen when I refused to dance with him?" Her eyes twinkled.
  
  "At least you did not call him 'stupid'-there's that!" Gendry teased her. "Perhaps he should have changed his tactics and asked your mother's permission first!" he added, changing the subject to Edric's behaviour.
  
  Arya chuckled. "You saw that too? That was so funny! Edric, all dressed up like a peacock, calling Mother 'Princess' at the end of every sentence and hinting that King Aegon, her nephew, had sent him over. Mother bought it hook, line, and sinker!"
  
  "I though his attire suited his new position as a knight of the realm. Besides, he and Sansa were able to dance together, so his tactic worked!" Gendry remarked drily.
  
  "Much good it did them, though!" Arya was clearly amusing herself. "Did you see how stiffly they moved? We behaved much more naturally during our dance, without all that pomp and circumstance!"
  
  "We did indeed, but only because we managed to dance at the other end of the dance floor, while your mother was busy talking to your Uncle Benjen and Princess Ashara. Clever of you to ask for your uncle's assistance, by the way!" Gendry nudged Arya's shoulder.
  
  Arya shrugged. "It was no big deal. You see, Uncle Benjen likes me. I think I'm his favourite niece!" Then her eyes narrowed and she studied Gendry's face closely. "By the way, your dancing has improved, Gendry. How come?"
  
  "I have Sansa to thank for that," Gendry explained, keeping his tone neutral. "She dances with me at least once at each feast, and tells me where to put my feet and how to stand and things."
  
  "And do you always hold her as stiffly as Edric did yesterday?" Arya asked, unable to hide the jealousy in her tone.
  
  Gendry refrained from putting his arm around her and drawing her close to him. Instead, he used his most convincing argument. "Arya, we made a pact! I promised I would never develop feelings for anyone else. And if I remember correctly, we decided to stop talking about this until way later."
  
  Arya bit her lip. "I will be leaving in the morning, Gendry. And you refuse to come home with us."
  
  "I will return north soon enough, Arya," Gendry promised, keeping his voice steady. "I have to help Jon put the final touches on Robb's wedding gift before the Great War."
  
  "Nevertheless, that might be ages from now!" Arya pouted. "Why can't you use Winterfell's forge for the remainder of your war preparations? You haven't had to use dragonfire in ages!"
  
  "Arya!" Gendry exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. He looked around. "Don't ever speak those words out loud! Jon wouldn't like it if he knew we were speaking of this out in the open!"
  
  "I know, I'm sorry!" Arya hung her head miserably. "I have trouble thinking straight, knowing I will be getting on that ship later today, yet not knowing when or if I will ever see you again!"
  
  Gendry could resist no longer and pulled Arya into his lap, even if he felt like a hypocrite. He had ordered Edric and Sansa to do nothing more than hold hands, yet here he was, embracing Arya! He decided to banish these thoughts, convincing himself that their situations were not the same: he was merely comforting Arya in a perfectly innocent manner. "You will see me again, I promise! And I will send messages to you through Jon as often as I can."
  
  "Promise?" Arya nestled herself against his broad chest.
  
  Gendry was cherishing every moment that he held her in his arms, for it was not often that Arya allowed anyone to comfort her. He swallowed. "I don't need to. Our pact assures you that I am speaking the absolute truth." He took a deep breath before promising anyway. "I will think of you every day, while you are gone, Princess. You will have a special place in both my mind and my heart!"
  
  "Gendry?" Arya looked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes.
  
  "Yes, Princess?" Gendry's voice was hoarse.
  
  "Will you kiss me just this once? Just so I can learn what all the fuss is about! I hear the servants talking sometimes, and some like it, but others don't. I would like to find out what it is like for myself, because right now I feel so ignorant!" Arya said in her typical blunt manner.
  
  "Are you sure, Arya?" Gendry asked, his self-control slipping away as he gazed into her innocent eyes.
  
  "One quick peck on my lips! Or do you not want to?" Arya felt no shame in tricking him like that.
  
  Perhaps Gendry was a fool to think Arya had no ulterior motive and was only making an innocent request. "One simple kiss then," he agreed. "But it will have to last longer than a short peck. Otherwise, you will not be able to understand what it really is like. Do you trust me?" he added, not sure if he could trust himself.
  
  "Of course! We have a pact, so I trust you! Do I need to close my eyes for this? The servants seemed to have differing opinions on that as well."
  
  This time Arya's innocent tone did not fool Gendry for one second, and yet he still could not refuse her. "Arya, stop analysing this! My advice to you is to just relax. Close your eyes and let it happen." He took hold of her chin and, as he lifted her head, he dipped his mouth slowly towards hers. "No second thoughts?" he whispered when their lips were within touching distance.
  
  Arya responded by pulling Gendry's head closer and initiating the kiss. Gendry kept his lips closed and did not apply too much pressure. It was a sweet, innocent kiss. Arya sighed when he released her lips a moment later, and she opened her eyes again. Gendry studied her expression and asked hesitantly, "Do you know what a kiss is like now, Princess?"
  
  Arya blushed. "Maybe?" She touched her lips with her finger. "It wasn't so bad, but only because you were kind about it and we like each other. I wouldn't want to try this with anyone else, though!"
  
  Gendry smiled, hiding his relief. "I'm glad, because I wouldn't want you to try this with anyone else either!"
  
  Arya wriggled out of his lap. "Well, now that this is out of the way... how shall we say goodbye?"
  
  "How about a hug?" Gendry proposed, still reeling from what had just taken place between them.
  
  "Hugs are good. Actually, your hugs are the best! We'll make sure to hug later," Arya said in her straightforward manner as she jumped to her feet. "Come on, let's go and find Sansa! I'm starting to think that she and Edric may try and kiss each other now that they're all alone!"
  
  Gendry smiled and followed her with renewed energy. He was filled with hope for the future. By suddenly questioning Sansa's hesitation to kiss Edric, his own Princess had unwittingly betrayed that she had found kissing him to be much more than "not bad."
  
  End notes:
  
  Chapter 54 as well as the interlude takes place in the North.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  A white wedding
  Chapter 54: A White Wedding
  
  Summary:
  
  This chapter takes place in Winterfell, where everything is ready for the wedding of Lord Robb of House Stark. The interlude describes events happening even further north.
  
  Notes:
  
  There is a time skip of approx. 70 days between this chapter and the previous one. Robb's wedding is set to take place on day 279 of King Aegon's reign.
  
  The interlude takes place in the past (around day 134 of King Aegon's reign).
  
  It took me longer than expected to post this chapter. I blame the pandemic that upended both my life and that of my beta, Lunaselene, who once again did an amazing job. Thanks Lunaselene!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  "Should I be jealous?" Dacey asked Robb as she sat on his lap.
  
  "Are you willing to admit that you are actually capable of such a weakness?" Robb answered, putting down the letter that he had been engrossed in and pulling her closer. "Besides, you are much too confident and always boasting that I am firmly under your spell. I am yours irrevocably, completely, for all eternity, in perp-oh!"
  
  Dacey silenced him with a kiss, her arms encircling his neck. "And you're such a sap, even if you speak true! There is no reason at all for me to worry-I have thoroughly ruined you for other women! Besides, your famous Stark honour wouldn't allow you to stray. You hardly dare to look at another woman nowadays!"
  
  "Okay." Robb smiled against her mouth. "Now that we've got that settled for the umpteenth time, tell me: what brought this on, dearest minx of mine? Was it my cousin's saying yet again how beautiful, intelligent, and sweet his Queen is?"
  
  Dacey rolled her eyes. "Not this time-it is you! You are constantly reading and rereading each and every letter from that paragon of a cousin of yours instead of paying attention to me! Even during these rare moments when no one else knows that we are alone together!."
  
  "Except for those guards outside," Robb pointed out.
  
  "Who are totally in our pocket!" Dacey retorted.
  
  "There's that," Robb conceded, smiling and kissing her again. "But you can't deny that you are always eager to hear my royal cousin's news. I remember you reacted most enthusiastically upon receiving that particularly long letter of his. You read it even more times than did the raven that he sent in response to my letter! I had to keep it away from you before his handwriting became completely illegible."
  
  "And I remember you enjoying my enthusiastic reaction afterwards!" Dacey countered, her seductive tone making Robb's blood run hot. However, when he responded to her flirting, she pushed him away and said in a serious tone, "I don't deny being happy about what your cousin the King says in his letters, Robb. His letters prove that you and he are truly as close as brothers, and you have convinced me that he will stand by us. Although I haven't met them yet, I already like your cousin and his wife very much, and I will prove this to them in public -" Dacey gave Robb a quick peck on his lips before adding, "-while in their company." She kissed him again. "But I don't wish to think about them right now, not while I have you all to myself! So get your priorities straight and kiss me the way I like! I want to worship every part of your body. If only I could convince you to reciprocate!" Dacey leaned in to kiss Robb and continue what she had begun.
  
  Robb pulled away. "So, my dearest betrothed, are you not the least bit interested in hearing the game-changing news that our esteemed monarchs have written about this time?"
  
  Dacey attempted to silence him with a kiss, and sighed dramatically as he evaded her once more. "I already know that they won the war in the Stormlands with hardly any casualties on their side."
  
  " Our side!" Robb corrected her as he kept her at a distance.
  
  "Whatever!" Dacey gave up her attempts to seduce Robb and focused instead on Jon's latest news. "In their last letter, the happy couple told us that they will fly here on their dragons to attend our wedding. What news could be more amazing than real-life dragons coming to visit Winterfell?"
  
  Robb grinned. "Perhaps whatever it was that brought about my very good mood? Didn't this argument begin when you saw me smiling at the news in this letter? Can you deny that you began acting all jealous and needy when you saw my dazzlingly handsome smile directed at something other than your gorgeous self?"
  
  Robb's unrepentant attitude provoked Dacey further, and she thumped him on the chest. "Don't tease me, Robb! You know that I dislike men who tease relentlessly! Just tell me now what is so special about this new letter!"
  
  Robb did not reply, but instead began stroking Dacey's belly and trying to detect movement. According to Maester Luwin, Dacey was six months pregnant, and the baby had been kicking a lot these last few days. Now, though, their child seemed to be asleep.
  
  Dacey hit Robb's chest again to catch his attention. He ignored her and continued stroking her stomach and teasing her. "Always so bossy! Always ordering me around! But I've won this round! It's so easy to get you going!" Despite all of Dacey's protests, Robb knew that she enjoyed their verbal sparring almost as much as their actual sparring sessions in the courtyard. "Why don't you guess what it is that I find so special, so- uplifting -about this letter?"
  
  Dacey leaned over and grabbed the letter that lay next to Robb. "Why don't I just read it myself?" she said smugly. "And I win this round!"
  
  "What's mine is yours, my dearest betrothed," Robb chuckled, putting his other hand on her belly. "Why don't you read while I focus on our child?"
  
  "Sap!" Dacey retorted, allowing him nonetheless to loosen the laces of her dress and expose her swollen belly.
  
  "Minx!" Robb countered, covered her belly with kisses.
  
  Dacey couldn't help smiling affectionately as she watched him speak softly to their unborn child. "Keep quiet, you softie, so I can read! Which paragraph? You two always write such long letters to each other! I want to avoid the parts where Jon gushes as always over his dearest Queen, and focus instead on the important news."
  
  "You don't want to do that this time," Robb replied lazily as he began to tease Dacey's belly button with his tongue. Seeing her face fall, he relented. "Read the third paragraph, sweetheart." He began counting silently until he reached eleven, when Dacey exploded "Robb! By the Gods! This is wonderful news!" She pushed his head away from her belly so he would look at her. "But why does your cousin ask you to keep it a secret?"
  
  "We subjects are not permitted to question our King's edicts," Robb declared before breaking into a grin. "Read on. He will explain."
  
  Dacey continued reading in silence and then put the letter down, smiling. "Queen Daenerys will give birth approximately two moons after I will. I'm so happy for them, Robb! Now we won't have to walk on egg shells and downplay our own excitement about our first child while in their company!"
  
  "And I can tease Jon that I beat him at this one thing!" Robb added. "You are right, this will make things easier. Jon and Daenerys were very eager for to conceive a child. The news will be announced on their last day here, while the royal court will receive the happy news when Jon and Dany return to King's Landing a few days after our wedding. So let us keep all of this a secret for now! I can understand why my cousin has not told his entourage that the Queen, who is going on an arduous journey to the distant North, is pregnant with the heir to the throne. Many would protest that she should not be allowed to do so, for it would risk both her health and that of her unborn child."
  
  "Men!" Dacey sighed. "You all think pregnant women are so fragile! Fortunately, my excellent state of health has convinced you, at least, to believe otherwise. You no longer presume that I am an invalid, and you do not limit my every move."
  
  Robb kissed her nose. "Only because you were wise enough to take it easier before my patience wore thin. Thank you for that, love of my life!"
  
  "Sap!" Dacey shot back.
  
  " Your sap !" Robb laughed.
  
  "You are hopeless!" Dacey accused him, smiling broadly. Then her expression changed. "Oh, did you feel that?" She put her hand over his, which still rested on her belly, and moved it slightly to the left.
  
  "Our little Princess or Prince of the North is awake," Robb murmured. He and Dacey sat in silence for a while, concentrating on each movement their unborn child made.
  
  Dacey was the first to gather her thoughts. "Your father will be very happy to hear that the Queen is pregnant. He told me once that he was worried that she might be barren."
  
  "Father will be happy indeed!" Robb agreed, but his smile swiftly faded. "Mother's reaction, however..." he stopped, hesitant to continue.
  
  "Your mother has accepted our situation, Robb," Dacey assured him. "She no longer avoids my company. I believe that she is looking forward to the birth of her first grandchild."
  
  "I know. That is not what I meant." Robb sighed. "Dacey, once she learns that Queen Daenerys is with child, she will urge Father to start planning the betrothal of these poor unborn cousins!"
  
  "And how do you feel about that?" Dacey asked.
  
  "I would like to get to know my child's future spouse before I commit to anything. What if we can't grow to love this new addition to our family?"
  
  "You can always pray that these poor babies will be clever enough to sabotage these plans by being born of the same gender. That way, nobody can betroth them to each other!" Dacey laughed..
  
  Robb kissed her. "That would only postpone the problem." One of his hands ventured between her legs and stroked her inner thigh, slowly easing its way upward. "You are fully aware that I am hoping for at least five children!"
  
  "Only five?" Dacey teased him. "I reckon that's possible!"
  
  Robb ceased stroking Dacey and looked her in the eye. "I want to make one thing absolutely clear: I am not completely opposed to a royal betrothal for one or more of our children. I just want this little thing growing inside your womb to live a contented life."
  
  Dacey pushed his hands away and placed her arms protectively around her belly. "Don't call our unborn child a thing ! This is a highborn person growing inside my womb!"
  
  Robb pursed his lips. "What should I call it then? You get mad when I refer to our babe as a male!"
  
  "That's because, contrary to popular opinion, a girl would be just as valuable to the North as a boy," Dacey argued.
  
  Robb drew her closer to him. "And I have told you countless times that I agree! However, we don't know yet whether this child will be a Prince or a Princess. So what shall we call the child in the meantime?"
  
  "Anything but a thing! Call it 'our baby' or 'our future child,' as you've done before. Now, Robb, can we stop talking and finally do what we came here to do? Before your stuck-up mother sends a search party to find her 'precious son and heir to the North,' who also happens to be a Prince, who also happens to be 'a first cousin and very close friend to the ruling King'?"
  
  Robb chuckled upon hearing Dacey mock his mother's way of frequently introducing her eldest son. "But what about my duties as Prince and heir to the North? I still need to read these messages!" He pointed to the scrolls that his father had handed him in the hallway earlier.
  
  Dacey and Robb had come to the room that they were currently in so they could indulge in some much anticipated intimate activities. However, before they had reached the room, they had heard Lord Stark calling them. They had slowed their pace in an attempt to disguise their intentions, although Robb suspected that his father already knew that he and Dacey sometimes used this tiny, empty room conveniently located at the far end of the servants' wing.
  
  It had been the first time that Robb had seen his father in this part of the castle. Lord Stark had acted as if there was nothing strange about meeting him and Dacey here. In fact, he had greeted them politely and enquired after Dacey's well-being. Then he had handed Robb a few messages to read and had told him to see him later that day. He had then turned and left the servants' wing.
  
  Robb admired his father for maintaining a straight face throughout their conversation. Dacey, on the other hand, had fidgeted nervously as she stood by his side. She was not very good at hiding her thoughts and emotions, which had been running wild since the beginning of her pregnancy. This was why Robb enjoyed baiting her, and he now smiled as she pouted endearingly.
  
  "Am I not one of your princely duties, your esteemed Highness? Isn't it Prince Charming's duty to keep his future bride from changing her mind?" Dacey asked, returning Robb's hand to her upper thigh.
  
  Robb wasn't ready to give in yet. "I don't want to neglect my other duties, and neither do I want Father to take away some of my responsibilities now that he has returned. During his absence, I discovered that I quite like ruling, especially being able to command everyone to do my bidding!"
  
  "Everyone except for me!" Dacey retorted quickly. "You can't order me around!"
  
  Robb relented this time and declared solemnly, "You will always be the exception in everything I do and decide, sweetheart." He leaned over and kissed her belly again as his hand began moving slowly up her thigh.
  
  "I'm marrying a sap!" Dacey cried in mock disappointment. Nevertheless, she leaned back and spread her legs to allow Robb easier access to her body.
  
  "Indeed you are, and most willingly too!" Robb agreed as his hand wriggled its way under her smallclothes. "Still, I have noticed that my sappiness is starting to rub off on you."
  
  Dacey moaned when he hit a sensitive spot. "In your dreams, my Prince Charming! In your dreams!" These were the last words she uttered as she closed her eyes and gave in to the pleasure that she was finally getting from Robb.
  
  "Enter!" Ned called when he heard the loud knock on the door of his solar. He looked relieved when the auburn head of his son appeared.
  
  "Is this a bad time, Father, or are you just hiding from Mother?" Robb asked politely.
  
  "Come in and close the door quickly, son. For now, your mother believes that I am out surveying something." Ned smiled. "I gather she has also been driving you crazy with all her last- minute changes to the wedding preparations!"
  
  "Not me, but Dacey," Rob said, sitting down opposite his father. "We had an intimate, romantic ceremony all planned out, and then Mother sweeps in and turns it into a pompous celebration! I'm glad you stood by us when we refused to hold a second ceremony in her precious Sept."
  
  "You're welcome, son. But you must also try to understand your mother's reasons: she was raised differently from you, and you are her pride and joy. She only wants what is best for you. Unfortunately, she sometimes has very strange ideas about what is 'best' for you children. I have resigned myself to fighting only the battles that matter most. As far as your wedding arrangements were concerned, the Sept was the only victory I cared about. Just let your mother savour her victories over 'smaller' matters such as the number of wedding guests, the courses to be served, and the colours in which the Great Hall will be decorated. After all, what harm can it do?"
  
  Robb sighed. "I myself don't mind these things, but convincing Dacey not to let this bother her is another matter. She argues that it is a matter of principle and that Mother should respect some of the wishes of the bride-to-be."
  
  "You must also learn to choose your battles with that one, son," Robb's father chuckled.
  
  "I know," Robb agreed. "But you can't compare our situations. Most of the time, Dacey has valid reasons for her complaints, and after hearing her out, I honestly believe that she is right. And even when she is not, I can at least understand why she feels so strongly about certain matters. Mother's motivations, on the other hand, are often downright ridiculous, and I am afraid I cannot sympathize with her!"
  
  Ned nodded to show that he understood. "Your mother will always remain a southern lady at heart, despite how long she has lived here. Your Dacey, on the other hand, is a true woman of the North who fights for northern beliefs, and I admire her for that. House Mormont has always proudly upheld the true Northern ways of our ancestors. They are some of the best people I know!"
  
  "Except for us Starks?" Robb smiled.
  
  "I would be guilty of vanity and pride if I admitted that," Ned replied diplomatically, smiling back.
  
  Robb's face took on a sober expression. "Have you given more thought to what we discussed last time? Dacey and I marry in less than a sennight."
  
  His father smiled. "You can start organising the new quarters you have chosen in the North wing without further delay."
  
  Robb stared at him. "We can? Mother agreed?"
  
  His father nodded. "She did. She understands- perhaps better than I do-your bride's need to steer her own household. You'll have your own servants, enough room to house an extended family and entertain a limited number of guests. "
  
  "Our own income?" Robb insisted.
  
  "Your own income," his father confirmed. "We'll work out the details later, but know that I consider you my second in command. You will lead the Northern army in my stead when it is time to leave for the Wall. And, during peace time, you and your wife will be responsible for strengthening Winterfell's relations with the Northern lords and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. In short, I can stay at home while you and your wife represent the Warden of the North outside these walls. I also promise to always take your ideas and counsel into consideration and to consult you before implementing any important changes. I trust you to do the same."
  
  Robb rose from his seat to embrace his father. "Thank you, Father!"
  
  A knock on the door interrupted them. "Prince Stark? Prince Robb?" a servant said, slowly pushing the door open wider. "Princess Catelyn requests your presence in the Great Hall immediately. Outriders have brought word that more guests will be arriving soon."
  
  Ned nodded at the servant. "Tell my wife that we will both be there, and so will Lady Dacey, whom we shall send for ourselves."
  
  "Thank you, my Princes." The servant bowed and disappeared.
  
  "No doubt Arya will be the last one to be found," Robb remarked.
  
  A few days later
  
  Despite the cold winds, the nobles who had gathered at Winterfell all stood in the courtyard to await the King and Queen, eager to catch a glimpse of the dragons. The lucky few who had seen them during the siege at the Dreadfort wanted to find out how much they had grown, for rumour had it that Rhaegal and Viserion had both doubled in size. Many of the nobles were also eager to see their new Queen for the first time, for they had heard she possessed an otherworldly beauty.
  
  Arya stood in the front row of the welcoming committee. She had heeded her mother's advice and had donned her warmest furs over her best coat and new woollen winter dress. Her boots were polished and her hair was arranged in a manner befitting the daughter of a high Lord. Her father had warned her that Jon would not have much time to spend with her, for the King and Queen would be very busy with the festivities and the wedding guests. And Jon would leave Winterfell shortly after the wedding celebrations were over. Arya had promised her father that she would not be a nuisance, but this would not keep her from taking every opportunity to stay close to Jon.
  
  Arya was scanning the skies like everyone else around her. Suddenly she yelled, "Over there!", pointing at something in the sky. All heads turned in the direction that she was pointing and saw two dark dots that were growing larger each minute. The crowd cried out excitedly as the silhouettes of the dragons became visible. Soon afterward, they could see the dragon riders as well: a figure with dark hair astride the green dragon and a silver-haired figure on the silver white dragon. Since there was not enough space for them to land in the Winterfell courtyard, the dragons disappeared from sight and landed on the other side of the castle's main gate.
  
  Jon's cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he slipped off Rhaegal. He noticed that Dany wasn't faring much better. He had made sure that she wore several layers of fur, thick gloves, and a large woollen scarf that covered the lower half of her face.
  
  Jon helped Daenerys dismount from Viserion, although she could still have dismounted easily by herself. Her pregnancy was not yet advanced enough to make it difficult for her to move around. In fact, nobody at Winterfell would realize that she was with child, even if Jon could see all the signs: her face had a healthy glow, her breasts were fuller, and, when Jon put his hand on her belly, he could feel the tiniest swelling there.
  
  As soon as Dany's feet touched the ground, Jon released her and helped her remove the large fur blanket that she had wrapped around her. Then he took out their crowns from one of the bags they had brought. "Are you all right, my love?" he asked Dany as he gently placed her crown upon her head.
  
  "More than all right!" she replied as she took the other crown from him and placed it on his dark curls. "I enjoyed our journey very much! Seeing Greywater Watch for the first time was amazing! In fact, everything that I have seen of the North so far has been wonderful. So many lovely, untouched landscapes! And all the snow on those mountain peaks! Thank you for letting me pause to admire them!" She kissed his cheek happily.
  
  Jon glanced towards the main gate to make sure no one was watching, and then he tenderly kissed Dany's cold lips. "You're welcome, my love, although I believe that your love for snow will disappear once you realize how wet and cold it is!"
  
  "I will still find it beautiful, though!" Dany retorted.
  
  Jon smiled and untied the few bags that they had brought. They could afford to travel light. The ship conveying the three Stark Princesses north had carried a trunk with several outfits for Jon and Dany. Furthermore, Sansa had promised to provide a few new dresses for the Queen. She had convinced Daenerys that she would fare better wearing warmer, typically northern dresses. Sansa had promised to have several ready for a final fitting by the time that Jon and Dany would arrive at Winterfell.
  
  Jon carefully put the bags on the ground. Except for a small amount of personal items, these bags contained wedding presents. He patted both Rhaegal and Viserion and told them to seek shelter for the night north of the Godswood, and promised to ask them later if they wanted food to be sent out to them. After the dragons had flown off, Jon summoned some of the Winterfell guards and asked them to carry his and Dany's bags to their quarters and to handle them with care.
  
  One of the guards then gestured to the gate. "A large delegation is waiting to welcome you in the courtyard, your Graces, despite today's harsh winds."
  
  Jon held out his arm to Dany, and together they entered Winterfell's courtyard. Everyone who had assembled there dropped to their knees.
  
  "Please rise, dear folk of the North!" Jon called out. "It is much too cold to hold our welcoming ceremony out here in the open! Let us all enter the castle and proceed to the Great Hall instead."
  
  Arya broke out of the crowd and walked towards Jon as fast as she could. She and Jon embraced happily. "I'm glad to see you are well, dear cousin! Life at the Red Keep was boring without you!" Jon said warmly.
  
  "I missed you too, Jon!" Arya kissed his cheek and then turned to Daenerys and hugged her. "You look good too, Daenerys! Come on, let's go inside!"
  
  Soon, almost everyone had left the courtyard except Jon's closest kin. He greeted his uncle and aunt first, and then hugged Robb, Sansa and Rickon. Daenerys did the same, and finally they all hurried inside the castle.
  
  "Princess Catelyn looked sour," Dany whispered to Jon.
  
  "I warned you-she blames me for Bran's absence," Jon whispered back. He relaxed as the warmth of the Great Hall enveloped them. Dany's first day in the North was an exceptionally cold one, and Jon hoped that Robb and Dacey's wedding would be blessed with better weather. His uncle led them to a corner of the hall and introduced them to four Stark guards who were waiting for them: Cassel, Mollen, Tomard, and Grennel
  
  Jon barely had time to acknowledge them before his uncle steered him and Dany them towards his family. Jon noticed a tall lady with dark tresses standing next to Robb, and he studied his cousin's future wife with interest. Lady Dacey had strong Northern features and she wore her hair in a simple braid, as was the custom in the North. She did not look the least bit intimidated to meet the royal couple and returned their inquisitive glances with a no-nonsense, open expression. "Fearless and confident indeed! Robb was not exaggerating," Jon thought, remembering that Lady Dacey was a few years older than Robb.
  
  Jon and Dany paused before the betrothed couple so that his uncle could introduce them. Lord Stark smiled warmly. "Your Graces, allow me to formally introduce you to the bride, Lady Dacey of House Mormont. My Queen, please meet my son and heir, Lord Robb of House Stark."
  
  The two young couples exchanged a few polite words before Lord Stark gestured to them to move towards the members of House Stark. Before taking leave of Robb, Jon slipped a note into his cousin's pocket inviting him and Dacey to visit Jon and Daenerys in their quarters after everyone had retired to prepare for supper.
  
  Jon and Daenerys also managed to speak briefly with Jon's cousins and Aunt Catelyn before his uncle ushered them to the dais, where two ceremonial chairs had been placed. As soon as Jon and Dany were seated, the nobles in the hall were presented to them one by one. Daenerys seemed in her element and helped Jon keep the conversation with each noble going. And Arya, who had taken on the role of Jon's cupbearer, made the endless stream of introductions more bearable for Jon by sharing whispered bits of gossip about each noble who was to be introduced.
  
  Sometime later, in the King and Queen's sitting room
  
  Jon, Daenerys, Robb, and Dacey were thoroughly enjoying the short private time that they were able to share before dinner. Daenerys and Dacey eagerly discussed their experiences of pregnancy with each other, leaving the two men to converse on their own.
  
  "You look happy," Jon remarked as he and Robb sat in the far corner of the room, letting the women sit closer to the fire. "Healthy, too! Your arm seems to have healed properly. I watched you when you lifted Rickon earlier."
  
  "I am indeed happy, Jon! And I'd like to believe that my arm is stronger than before, despite how horrendous it looks," Robb replied. "But I can return your compliment! You and Dany look very happy together, and you in particular seem to have developed additional muscles!"
  
  Jon smiled ruefully. "A side effect of the war preparations, I guess. I have been training diligently, and I'm sure you remember how relentless my Kingsguard can get!"
  
  Robb sighed. "I envy you your teachers, Jon!" he said wistfully. His face brightened, though, as he added,. "Dacey, however, has taught me a few new moves! She fights differently from us. I reckon even you might have to adjust to her fighting style if you were to take her on. Have you ever fought against someone wielding a mace?"
  
  Jon raised an eyebrow. "Don't underestimate my White Cloaks! They have trained me to counter attacks from all kinds of weapons and to wield most of them, including a mace! Learning how to wielding an arakh, though, has been my most challenging lesson!"
  
  Robb looked puzzled, so Jon explained. "An arakh is an Essosi weapon used by the Dothraki, among others. It looks like something between a sword and a scythe. The balance is weird and makes it difficult to handle when one is more used to fighting with a longsword or greatsword."
  
  Robb was fascinated. "Sounds like a challenge to me! I'd certainly like to try wielding one myself. Perhaps when I finally journey South?"
  
  "Perhaps, or I can bring a few of them with me the next time I come up North," Jon proposed, leaning back in his chair.
  
  Robb nodded in agreement. "Whatever happens first. Now, can you tell me about the battle in the Stormlands?"
  
  Jon eagerly began to recount all that had happened during his campaign in the Stormlands, while Robb listened intently. In the meantime, Dacey and Dany had been engaging in an animated conversation of their own. During a lull, they overheard the two men discussing the Stormland conflict.
  
  "I envy them!" Dacey remarked, sighing.
  
  "For what?" Dany asked.
  
  "For being men," Dacey replied.
  
  Daenerys frowned. "Why?"
  
  "The four of us are going to be parents soon," Dacey explained. "But while Robb and your King can continue living their lives the way they always have, we have to spend moons limiting our activities. And we're not supposed to lash out at our spouses for suffocating us with their well-meant, loving attention. To make matters worse, we have to face the dangers and the pain of giving birth!"
  
  "But surely you understand-" Dany began, but Dacey cut her short.
  
  "Of course I understand, and it was my choice to stop sparring!" she bristled. Then she gulped and looked a bit nervous. "I apologize for my bad manners and for interrupting you, your Grace!"
  
  Dany shook her head. "I'm not your Grace in here, Dacey. I merely wished to point out that our men can't change the fact that the Gods chose the mother to be the one to carry the child, a role I cherish very much. I sometimes catch Aegon looking at me with a longing expression. During pregnancy, us women have a closer bond with our child then our husbands do. Do you not feel the same?"
  
  "I do! And I do love feeling my child move in my belly, and I enjoy being pregnant," Dacey replied. "However, I hate being treated by Robb as fragile and weak! I fell in love with him because he allowed me, a woman, -to help him in his weak moments. At the beginning of our relationship, I was the stronger partner, helping him deal with the after-effects of his traumatic experience. Soon, though, it will be me needing his help for the simplest tasks. This morning, for instance, I needed his help just getting out of bed, and I resent that!" Dacey sighed. "I admit that I am being unreasonable, and I can see that Robb is doing his best not to make me feel weak and helpless-but I can't help feeling this way!"
  
  "It won't last forever!" Dany assured her. "And I have seen the way Robb Stark looks at you. He does not find you weak; on the contrary, I believe he looks at you with pride and admiration, with love and devotion!" Dany smiled encouragingly at the bride-to-be.
  
  Dacey smiled back apologetically. "I know he does, and I know that I am lucky and should stop acting like a spoiled child!"
  
  Dany changed the subject by asking Dacey about her wedding dress. Dacey described it briefly, but entertained her future good-sister with a humorous account of how Princess Catelyn had ignored Robb and Dacey's plans for a modest, intimate wedding ceremony, and had instead transformed their wedding into a pompous affair showcasing the wealth and power of house Stark. Then, her tone turning serious, Dacey blamed Prince Eddard's refusal to rein in his wife as the major reason for her and Robb's current predicament.
  
  On the other side of the room Jon picked up the small bag at his feet and rummaged through it until he found the small bundle of letters addressed to Robb. "I brought some letters for you. I believe they are from Sam, Gendry and Uncle Benjen."
  
  Robb took the package, sifted through the letters, and then set them aside. He looked at Jon and shook his head. "Imagine that: my letters delivered by a dragon ! If this had happened to Theon, he would have bragged about it so-" Robb suddenly faltered and turned away from his cousin.
  
  Jon touched Robb's arm. "You can talk about Theon to me, Robb. I never liked him, but you lived with him for years, so of course you were closer to him than I ever was! I understand."
  
  "No, you don't!" Robb snapped, looking down. His hands were balled into fists. "Have you ever had a friend who conspired against you and helped lead you into a situation where you were imprisoned and tortured?!"
  
  Jon saw that Robb's knuckles were turning white. He took Robb's fists in his hands, hoping this would calm his cousin down. He leaned closer to Robb. "You're right-I can't even begin to understand what you went through. All I know is that Theon was once your friend and I respect the past that you shared. This was the only reason I lobbied with the Northern Lords to spare him from execution."
  
  Robb gripped Jon's hands until he finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "Theon always wanted to be accepted, and-wanted people to look at him and see the son of a ruling Lord, not a-pitiful hostage." Robb lifted his head and said savagely, "It was that bastard -that Snow bastard-who used Theon's insecurity against him! He played Theon, made him envy me and resent me, and now-knowing Theon-he will be so desperate to make amends and set things right between us, that he will most likely attempt to play a hero beyond the Wall and will die in the process!"
  
  Jon placed a comforting hand on Robb's shoulder and said nothing, hoping his cousin would understand that he thoroughly sympathized with him. Robb finally broke the silence, slipping his hands out of Jon's and smiling awkwardly. "So tell me, how has Lord Gendry adjusted to his new life?"
  
  Jon was relieved that Robb was apparently in a better mood. He filled Robb in on Gendry's latest responsibilities. Then the conversation shifted to Jon's imminent visit to Castle Black.
  
  "Will you take Daenerys with you or will she stay here at Winterfell until your return?" Robb asked.
  
  "Would you be able to leave Dacey behind?" Jon challenged Robb.
  
  "Point taken, Cousin," Robb answered, smiling broadly.
  
  "Indeed!" Dacey broke in, surprising Robb by jumping onto his lap. "We must start preparing for supper now so we won't be late, my dearest betrothed," she declared, kissing Robb on the lips in front of her King and Queen.
  
  Dany had joined the others. "Let's do this again tomorrow," she proposed. They all nodded in agreement, and Dacey and Robb left the royal couple so they could freshen up in private.
  
  The next morning, Jon and Dany's quarters were invaded by Sansa and several other Northern ladies, all wanting to hear about life at court and to assist Daenerys with her fittings. Jon whispered to Dany that he would visit the Godswood and then meet up with his uncle. "I will be back by lunchtime, if not earlier," he promised her, kissing her cheek to the delight of everyone present. Then he excused himself and left.
  
  Jon found his uncle standing before the heart tree, despite the cold. "Good morning, Uncle! I came to pray for a while before joining you in your solar."
  
  Prince Eddard looked pleased. "I am glad that you still seek the guidance of the Old Gods." Both men prayed in silence as they stood side by side.
  
  When Jon finally lifted his head, he noticed that his uncle had already finished. He cleared his throat. "Since it is quite cold, perhaps we might go sit by the fireplace in your solar, Uncle Ned?"
  
  "Your time in the South has made you soft, your Grace!" Ned laughed as he and Jon set off.
  
  Jon rolled his eyes. " Jon or Nephew will do, Uncle! And you're shivering yourself! You have to admit that the days have become much colder. Today's temperature easily matches the coldest temperatures that I experienced beyond the Wall."
  
  "That is because winter is almost here," Ned replied, his expression thoughtful. "And it will be much colder beyond the Wall now. I am making sure that the Night's Watch has plenty of wood, and I have also sent them a large shipment of furs."
  
  Jon stopped walking and faced his uncle. "I know-I read the report. You have my thanks, Uncle! I am grateful that you have been diligently monitoring the scouts' reports and anticipating their needs. It helps to know I am not the only person worrying about their situation."
  
  "You no longer have to worry about the Free Folk by yourself, Jon. The entire Kingdom will help you take care of them now," Ned assured him as they resumed their walk. "By the way, I was pleased to read about your success in the Stormlands, and even more when I learned that you annexed Dorne peacefully! That feat alone is worthy of great praise and will go down in the history books as one of your greatest accomplishments!"
  
  Jon blushed. "I had lots of help! It was truly fortunate that the Conspiracy sent Oberyn my way when I was a boy. I will make sure that Sam emphasizes this when he writes about my reign."
  
  His uncle smiled encouragingly. "And I will be one of the first to read it. I supplied Lord Tarly with several anecdotes a few moons back, and I'm curious to see whether he included any of them in his book."
  
  Jon smiled. "Knowing Sam, he will have included all of them." Both men stopped talking as they arrived at the entrance to the Keep. They maintained a comfortable silence and only resumed their conversation until they were finally settled by the fireplace in Ned's solar.
  
  "I may be accustomed to the cold, but this doesn't mean I can't appreciate the warmth of a nice fire," Ned admitted as he held his hands close to the fire.
  
  "We Targaryens are very fond of fire," Jon remarked, moving his own hands dangerously close to the flames.
  
  "So it is true, then," Ned observed. "You really do have a higher tolerance because of your blood."
  
  "I've always had it," Jon admitted. "But in these last few years, it has increased significantly. I can hold my hand in the fire for quite a while before it starts hurting." He refrained from demonstrating this, unwilling to alarm his uncle. "Lately, I have been experimenting with my resistance to dragonfire. Gendry swears it is the hottest fire he has ever worked with. Somehow, I am able to tolerate my dragon's flames longer than any other kind of fire-in fact, according to Sam's test, more than ten times longer. He believes I can increase my resistance even further through training."
  
  His uncle frowned. "That sounds dangerous! Just promise me that you'll be careful, Nephew."
  
  "I promise, Uncle. And you have allies in Davos and Uncle Benjen," Jon reassured him. "They never stop reminding me of my importance, especially before I undertake anything potentially risky."
  
  Ned was reassured by Jon's words and decided to change the subject. "Now, what was that matter that you wished to discuss with me in person?"
  
  Jon smiled. "I missed this Northern straightforwardness!. It's refreshing after having gotten used to the way Southerners beat around the bush."
  
  "And I will accuse you of being Southron if you don't get to the point right now!" his uncle reprimanded him good-naturedly.
  
  Jon grew serious. "I wished to discuss the Company of the Rose. They will be reaching out to us soon."
  
  Ned was startled. "Does 'us' mean House Stark? Or you?"
  
  Jon hesitated. "Only me at first, most likely. But if the Company wishes to return to Westeros and settle in the North, they can't bypass you."
  
  Ned made no reaction but simply asked, "How many are they?"
  
  "A few thousand including women and children. I will know for sure when they contact me directly."
  
  Ned rubbed his chin. "That many people! That could pose a problem with winter coming very soon. I would normally have considered the Gift a good location for them, but..."
  
  Even if his uncle did not continue his sentence, Jon knew that Ned Stark blamed him for losing that opportunity. "You couldn't have offered them those lands, Uncle!" He protested. "The Gift belongs to the Night's Watch. The Warden of the North has no say in who gets to live there."
  
  "True, but I could have negotiated with the Night's Watch." Ned countered stubbornly. "Right now those lands are overrun by Wildlings."
  
  " Free Folk," Jon corrected him firmly. "I've read the reports as well, Uncle. As of yet, only half of the permitted number of folk have settled there, and incidents have been kept to a minimum."
  
  "Call me old fashioned then!" Ned replied drily. "I still can't rest easy knowing that the, uh, Free Folk live south of the Wall."
  
  "It is a brave new world, Uncle!" Jon smiled. "You'll get used to it eventually. I would rather discuss now what to do about the imminent request of this exiled group of Northerners. Your Kingdom has large territories to the West that are still uninhabited, and it could benefit from new settlers willing to cultivate these lands. How about granting them the area that lies between Torrhen's Square, Sea Dragon Point, and the Stony Shore?"
  
  "I would rather they settle along the west coast, the stretch north of Deepwood Motte," Ned admitted reluctantly. "I would also prefer to discuss this issue with the Northern Lords before making a final decision. But it is way too early for that. First, I would like to know who the current leader of this Company of the Rose is. Which Northern house is he related to? How many among his ranks are still claiming kinship to the noble houses? Such information would help my vassal Lords to make a favourable decision."
  
  "And you as well, no doubt," Jon observed. He exhaled slowly. "The man who reached out to us is a Snow who claims kinship with House Stark. I was told that he, as well as several others in his ranks, possess one or more Stark features. Just like I do," he added.
  
  Ned looked up. "I would like to speak to this man so he can substantiate his claim in person. As I said before, I need more information before I consent to anything."
  
  Jon relented. "Fair enough, Uncle. My only intent was to warn you in advance." He hesitated, then added, "Just so you know, these men are disciplined warriors. They are willing to offer us their services and their loyalty. They can help us defend the realm. The Company of the Rose has an outstanding reputation in Essos."
  
  Ned promised to take the matter under advisement and Jon changed the subject and briefed his Uncle on the major events in the other Kingdoms. He also described the knighting ceremony, the victory celebration and briefly mentioned the wedding of Lord Dickon of House Tarly and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell which had taken place a few days before Jon and Dany had left the capital.
  
  "Can we talk about Bran?" Ned asked when Jon had finished.
  
  "Of course, although I can't tell you much more than what I already wrote in my last message," Jon replied.
  
  "I am grateful for those updates," his uncle assured him. "Ever since I learned that Meera and Jojen had returned to Castle Black with Summer, but without Bran, I have been sick with worry! And since only you and Howland know about his trip, I had to keep all of this to myself. I am thankful that you have established a new way of communicating with Bran."
  
  "I was also greatly relieved to receive good tidings from him," Jon admitted. He praised Bran's commitment to his cause and stressed once more that even without his direwolf, Bran was safe and well-cared for. He repeated that his young cousin's willingness to travel beyond the Wall and further develop his greenseeing ability, might very well give them a better chance of winning the fight against the dead.
  
  Jon did not reveal how he communicated with Bran. He wished to keep this a secret for now, and was relieved when his uncle finally allowed him to change the subject. The rest of the morning was spent in pleasant conversation with his uncle.
  
  They were in the midst of discussing the new trade agreement with the Free Folk when Robb joined them, his direwolf at his heels. After nodding briefly to his father, Robb exclaimed, "I missed you in the sparring yard earlier, Cousin!"
  
  "I will definitely find time to spar after lunch," Jon promised him, moving his chair so that Robb could pull up a seat next to him. Grey Wind wiggled his large body between the two of them. The three men then relaxed together, keeping their conversation light and pleasant until it was time to join the ladies in the Great Hall for lunch.
  
  The last few days before the wedding went by fast. Jon spoke privately with every Lord and asked about each one's accomplishments and struggles. One interview in particular had stood out: Lord Newton of the Newfort, formerly known as the Dreadfort, had spoken with Jon in the glass gardens where they would have more privacy, and it quickly became clear that he needed a favour from his King.
  
  "Lady Shireen is going through a difficult time, your Grace," Lord Domeric began.
  
  "We are doing all we can to help her, my Lord," Jon reassured him.
  
  "Now that she is an orphan, I wish to be allowed to do more for her than simply send her letters to lift her spirits," Lord Newton said.
  
  "What exactly are you proposing?" Jon asked curiously.
  
  "Well, Lady Shireen is still very much convinced that she wants to marry me," Domeric replied. Jon nodded, and Domeric continued. "One of the reasons you asked for a year's respite was so that Lady Shireen and I would both have time to know each other better before getting engaged. That is rather difficult to achieve with the distance currently between us. In your case, did you court your Queen while she was still in Pentos and you were here in Westeros? Or did you courtship truly begin only when she was already in Dragonstone?"
  
  Jon frowned. "You can't mean to ask for my consent for Shireen to live at the Newfort before you are both married!"
  
  "Of course not!" Domeric exclaimed. "But I thought that perhaps she could come north and live here at Winterfell for a time, with your kin. It will be much easier for me to visit her here. And I am certain Princess Catelyn will guarantee that we will be adequately chaperoned during every visit."
  
  "I'll take this matter under consideration," Jon answered hesitantly. "You understand that I shall need to discuss this matter with both Lady Shireen and Lord Gendry of House Baratheon first. Lord Baratheon has decided to watch over her. They have become very close-as cousins, and nothing more," he added quickly when Lord Newton frowned. "I can assure you that Gendry has no romantic feelings whatsoever for his cousin."
  
  Domeric nodded. "I know that. Shireen mentions her cousin in each of her letters. It is only- I had hoped it would be enough to obtain your approval." Then he continued plaintively, "Your Grace, please consent to my proposal. Otherwise, Shireen and I will still be virtual strangers on our wedding day, no matter how long you choose to postpone it."
  
  Jon could commiserate with the young man's plight, but he knew that he needed to put Lady Shireen's interests first. "I understand, Lord Newton, and I promise to make a fair decision after I have talked with your betrothed and Lord Baratheon. Now, I would like you to tell me about the renovations to the Newfort and the number of men you can commit to the Great War. Did you bring a list detailing your current supplies and laying out a plan for rations for the coming winter?"
  
  On the morning of the wedding, Dany woke up with a strange feeling that stayed with her throughout the morning and early afternoon. She decided to take a short nap in the mid-afternoon to get enough rest for the wedding ceremony. In the North, the wedding vows before the Old Gods were usually recited at dusk and were followed by the wedding feast, which would continue long into the night.
  
  When Dany woke from her nap, the strange feeling still lingered. She turned and saw Aegon standing by the window and staring outside. He was already dressed in formal attire and freshly shaven, his hair still wet from the bath. His heavy fur cloak was draped over his arm. He suddenly turned around and saw Dany observing him.
  
  "What has caught your interest outside, my husband?" Dany asked when Jon remained by the window instead of greeting her with a kiss as he usually did.
  
  Jon gave her a broad smile, looking thoroughly relaxed and happy for once. "You need to see this for yourself," he replied mysteriously. He spread his heavy cloak over the window sill, walked over to Dany's bed, and scooped her up in his arms.
  
  "I can walk, you know!" Dany protested, laughing and wiggling ineffectively.
  
  "I know, but I like having you in my arms!" Jon grinned. "Besides, the floor is cold and you are barefoot," he explained, carrying Dany to the window. Once there, he seated her on his thick fur coat on the window sill. Then he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand cupping the small swelling of her stomach.
  
  Dany slipped her hand over Jon's and looked outside. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up when she saw the thick, pristine white blanket of snow that covered the landscape as far as she could see. "That is so beautiful! I have never seen anything like it! Can the wedding still take place tonight, though? The entire Godswood will be covered in snow!"
  
  Jon nuzzled Dany's neck and kissed her behind her ear, replying, "As soon as it stops snowing, the house guards will clear the path that leads to the heart tree and the open space beneath the heart tree as well. The bride and groom and some guests of honour will be able to stand beneath the tree without sinking knee-deep into the snow. I am quite certain that even a snowstorm cannot stop a Northern wedding from taking place-although they might wait for some snow to melt a bit, if necessary. If fresh snow falls on a wedding day, the ceremony is called a 'white wedding,' and it is believed to signal the couple's future felicity and fertility."
  
  "A white wedding," Daenerys repeated with awe. "I am truly thankful that Sansa insisted I wear something warmer than the clothes that we packed for this trip."
  
  Jon kissed the cold tip of her nose. "So am I! Stay close to me if you still feel cold, and I will do everything in my power to keep you warm. I may even wrap my cloak around both of us. Anyway, if it keeps snowing, the servants will build a small shelter beneath the heart tree for the wedding guests. And, as you already know, a wedding ceremony before the Old Gods is quite short, so we will all be back indoors before you know it!" He paused. "Shall I help you dress, or would you like me to send for a handmaid? Or perhaps for Sansa, if she has finished dressing herself?"
  
  "Yes, please have someone send for Princess Sansa in a little while," Dany agreed. "However, I would prefer that you help me dress! Seeing that you are already groomed and dressed up yourself, I assume that you are available to help me?" she asked mischievously.
  
  Jon tightened his embrace, which Dany took as a positive answer. "Then you will do just fine, husband! Sansa can braid my hair instead. Aside from Irri, she is the only other woman who knows how to braid it in just the way I like!"
  
  Dany would always remember her first white wedding, but not simply because of the bride's beautiful wedding gown, the enchanting Godswood, and the happiness of the newlyweds. It was because something wonderful happened to her shortly before the bride appeared, as if the Gods had decided to have it coincide with this joyful occasion. As Daenerys stood next to her beloved husband in the midst of the happy gathering, she suddenly felt a slight fluttering in her stomach. At first she thought it was merely hunger pangs; but when she felt it again a few minutes later, her instincts told her that this was different from anything she had ever felt before.
  
  After the third fluttering, Daenerys finally realized the truth: she had just experienced the long-awaited quickening, the confirmation that her child was healthy and that her pregnancy had reached its halfway point. The Maester had told her to wait for this sign, and then she could finally cease doubting and start rejoicing. She and Aegon could finally celebrate her pregnancy and announce the happy news to the entire realm.
  
  Dany tugged Aegon's hand and discreetly drew his attention to her stomach. He looked worried first, but after she whispered "The quickening!", Jon smiled so lovingly that Dany's knees grew weak and he had to quickly grasp her waist and support her. Fighting their desire to kiss each other, they turned their attention to the wedding ceremony and watched Lady Dacey approach her jubilant groom under the hear tree. Tears of joy rolled down Dany's cheeks as Robb and Dacey shared their first kiss as man and wife. Aegon held her hand tightly and placed his free hand discreetly on her belly. It was a moment Dany would remember for the rest of her life.
  
  Queen Daenerys and King Aegon ended up staying longer at the wedding celebration than necessary. They warned the bride and groom to make a run for it before the bedding ceremony could be proposed. As the highest-ranking persons in the room, they would have been responsible for proposing the bedding, but Aegon had promised Robb and Dacey that he and Dany would spare them that ordeal.
  
  Throughout the evening, people joked about how a bedding was superfluous, and toasts were drunk to the extraordinary virility of Northern men. and to the new generation of House Stark, who would ensure that the Northerners would live in pride and prosperity for years to come. Some of them had also begun calling the unborn child a "wolf-bear." Aegon and Dany joined in many of these toasts, allowing the Northern Lords their fun. Princess Catelyn, though, had pursed her lips upon hearing comments that the wolf's blood ran stronger in Prince Robb's veins than the fish's blood and the new generation of Starks would become even stronger when combined with the blood of the bear.
  
  Although Princess Catelyn had not discussed her second son's whereabouts at all, Jon and Dany had learned from Sansa that her mother still blamed the King for sending Prince Bran on a mysterious mission, thus forcing him to miss his older brother's wedding. Nevertheless, his aunt continued to play the perfect hostess, and Daenerys had not expected anything less from her.
  
  The day after the wedding, King Aegon asked his aunt to organize a private luncheon for the family members alone. At this luncheon, he and Daenerys officially announced the royal pregnancy. Everyone was very pleased, and some were even quite surprised. It was decided that Lord Stark would announce this news to the Northern Lords as soon as Winterfell received word that the royal couple had arrived safely back at the capital.
  
  Robb and Dacey remained in Winterfell the next day so they could bid farewell to their King and Queen, after which they would begin their short honeymoon in a small cottage near Winterfell. A large crowd assembled in the courtyard once again, this time to wave goodbye to their King and Queen and catch one last glimpse of the two dragons as they soared away.
  
  Interlude 54 : An unknown destination
  
  A few moons earlier
  
  Bran adjusted his thick woollen scarf so that it covered his mouth and nose. Jon had warned him that it would get extremely cold further up north, but since he had grown up in the North, Bran had thought he understood what Jon meant. Now, he was not so sure. He and his companions had to alternate between riding and walking in order to exercise their limbs and keep their fingers and toes from freezing. And they hadn't even reached the other side of the Wall yet! Bran wondered yet again whether he would ever survive this quest. The only companion of his who seemed in his element was his direwolf, Summer. His name was actually quite ironic, for the colder it got, the more Summer appeared to thrive.
  
  Bran's eyesight had worsened considerably: now he could only distinguish dark shadows, and only in the daylight. If he concentrated, he could make out the shapes of the two horses moving ahead of him, as well as the shapes of Meera and Jojen. He knew the guards who were accompanying them were close behind them because he could hear them loudly complaining about the cold. These men, whom Lord Reed had sent to accompany his children and Bran, were Northmen eager to return to their homesteads. As soon as their small caravan reached Castle Black, they would be released of their service and would be able to head home.
  
  Bran was glad that Meera and Jojen had agreed to travel with him. Jojen often engaged Bran in warging games which saved him from boredom, and he was proud of how skilful he had become at playing them. He had even succeeded in tricking his father a few times by taking control of his horse and steering it in the wrong direction when he caught his father wool-gathering.
  
  Bran missed his father. When they left Greywater Watch, his father had accompanied them on the first leg of their journey. Bran fondly remembered those days, for he had felt safer and it had not yet been so cold. A few days later, his father had left the King's Road to return to Winterfell, and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The winds had picked up, blowing in from the North and forcing Bran's group to travel upwind the entire way.
  
  "I see riders up ahead, Bran!" Meera suddenly called out.
  
  "How many?" Bran yelled back.
  
  "Five, all dressed in black! I think the Lord Commander sent out a welcome party," Meera replied.
  
  Bran heard the relief in her voice. Meera had taken the lead after her father had left them, and Bran sensed that she grew more anxious ach day. Nobody had expected the cold to build up so quickly, and Jojen had developed a nasty cough as a result. Bran had overheard Meera telling one of the guards that her brother was feverish this morning. She hadn't mentioned this to Bran yet, so he pretended not to know about it.
  
  Soon Bran heard other horses approach. "Sandor Clegane, at your service!" a rough male voice boomed out. "We've come to escort you to Castle Black. Take heart- it is not that far now! You can start dreaming of a bowl of wholesome stew and a warm bath! I'll get you there before nightfall!"
  
  "Thank the Gods!" Bran murmured, joining the others in introducing themselves. He refrained from warging into Summer to study the faces of their impromptu guides. He knew that as long as he hid his rapidly deteriorating eyesight from the others, he would still be allowed to travel beyond the Wall. If he could successfully fool his father for sennights, then he could certainly fool these Night Watch recruits for a few days.
  
  Bran, Jojen, and Meera ended up staying a whole sennight at Castle Black waiting for their escort to arrive. Jon's friend, a huge man named Tormund Giantsbane, had agreed to guide them to the place where Bran was destined to go: a sacred clearing, deep in the haunted forest, in which stood the largest weirwood tree that the Free Folk had ever discovered. The Free Folk did not dare venture close to that spot because children had been known to disappear from there, never to be found again. The Free Folk believed it was a place reserved only for gods or demons, and they were happy to leave it to them. As a special favour to Jon, Tormund Giantsbane had volunteered to accompany Bran and the Reeds as close to the clearing as he dared to. Then he would mark a spot at which he would pick them up the next day.
  
  A red priestess arrived a day before their departure. A royal decree granted her permission to stay at Castle Black for an indefinite length of time. She would help the healers with their duties and assist with the war preparations in any way she could. She secretly gave Bran a letter and a small package from King Aegon, asking him to keep both objects hidden from his travel companions.
  
  On the morning of their departure, the Night's Watch provided Bran and his companions with extra furs, food, water skins, and other items for their journey. Their wagon had been replaced with a snow sled. Despite all the healers' best efforts, Jojen's fever had not abated, and Bran's group was finally forced to leave Jojen behind, in the care of the Free Folk healers stationed there.
  
  So only Bran, Meera, and Tormund Giantsbane entered the tunnel to begin their journey beyond the Wall. The huge, red-haired leader of the Free Folk turned out to be exactly as Jon had described him: rough around the edges, always boasting about his accomplishments, but strong, capable, and kind. During the trip to the haunted forest, he entertained Bran and Meera with tales of his exploits, each one more fantastic than the previous one. He boasted about his friendship with the dragonrider, and many of his stories revealed just how much Jon was revered on this side of the Wall.
  
  Not long after Tormund had left them close to the clearing, Bran detected a strange presence. He asked Meera several times to survey their surroundings, but she could not find or sense anything strange. Uncertain about how to proceed, the pair decided to set up camp on the far side of the clearing, some distance from the weirwood tree. Meera had just started to unpack the tent when Bran heard her cry out in pain. Then he heard a thud, followed by complete silence.
  
  "Meera?" Bran called out. There was no reply. Since dusk had fallen by now, Bran was as good as blind. But before he could warg into Summer, a voice in his head suddenly spoke up, urging him to remain calm. "You have reached your destination, my child! Allow them to guide you inside."
  
  Bran felt both of his arms being grabbed. "Who are you?" he cried frantically at whoever was dragging him forward. The voice in his head responded. "Come inside first, where it is safe. Then I will explain." It sounded eerily calm.
  
  "What about Meera, my companion?" Bran insisted, still resisting whoever was pulling him. "What happened to her?"
  
  "She is of no further use to you- to us. She is free to return to her people" the monotonous voice replied
  
  "But she will freeze to death if you leave her outside! It is not safe in these woods!" Bran argued desperately.
  
  Bran heard new sounds and guessed that more men were approaching. Or were they creatures rather than men? The hands gripping his arms felt strange. They did not feel like human hands, but more like the claws of an animal or like thin wooden sticks. And they kept dragging Bran forward.
  
  "If it eases your mind, child, then she may stay the night. But she must leave in the morning," the voice in Bran's head said, in a tone devoid of all feeling. After hearing this promise, Bran stopped resisting the two small creatures that were pulling him in the direction of the giant weirwood tree. When he sensed a change in temperature, he guessed that they had entered a cave. The cold left his body as if by magic, and he could hear a crackling fire nearby. "Where are we?" he asked.
  
  The voice in his head answered again. "All in good time, my child! Come before me and I shall explain. It is high time for you to take your rightful place!"
  
  "Bran?" Meera's panicked voice reached him from a distance.
  
  "Meera?" Bran yelled back, relieved to hear her voice. "Are you hurt?"
  
  "Just a bump on my head. They blindfolded me. I don't know where we are. Are you all right?"
  
  Bran exhaled deeply, utterly relieved that she was safe and nearby. "I'm fine! At least we're somewhere warm. I reckon that we're in some kind of underground cave." Bran searched his mind for his direwolf, but all he could feel was the strong presence of another being. The Voice, Bran decided to call it, for lack of a better term.
  
  "Bran, you sound so far away! Can you double back?" Meera shouted, somewhere in the distance.
  
  "It is time for her to leave you alone, my child," the voice whispered. "We are grateful that she brought you to us. I promise you she will be sheltered and returned to the clearing at first light. Only you are allowed to stay in this sacred place and learn its secrets."
  
  "But-" Bran protested, only for the voice to interrupt him.
  
  "It is vital that you do this so that you may help our saviour. But you already know all of this, my child. Do not fight your destiny! And ignore your friend! Keeping her ignorant is the only way to ensure that she returns safely to her kin."
  
  End notes:
  
  Next chapter we will know whether the new Targling will be a boy or a girl.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Moving forward
  Chapter 55: Moving forward
  
  Summary:
  
  In King's Landing, life continues while we wait for the enemy to stir in the North. The main chapter covers days 285 - 484 in the reign of King Aegon.
  
  The interlude consists of randomly ordered scrolls and letters.
  
  Notes:
  
  We are moving towards the final chapters. Thank you all for sticking with me even though this story has grown much lengthier than originally planned. I am especially grateful to everyone who has left kudos and comments.
  
  Unfortunately, the pandemic has upended not only my life but my beta's as well and we had to part ways. This means that I am once again posting unbeta'd.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Everyone rose to their feet and started clapping as the King and Queen entered the small council room. Jon and Dany exchanged a quick smile before accepting the congratulations.
  
  "Joyous news! Congratulations, your Grace!" Ser Gerold for once broke protocol and briefly hugged his King. He was the only Kingsguard who had not seen the royal couple in person since their return yesterday shortly after dusk. Earlier this morning, the long-expected final testing session of a long training program had been scheduled where the Lord Commander was set to select and promote two additional knights to the elite royal guard. It had been a day many ambitious, promising trainees had been eagerly looking forward to.
  
  Last night, Ser Arthur and Ser Patreck assisted by Ser Brienne and Ser Edwyd as representatives for the Dragonguard had been the ones to escort the King and Queen to their quarters. Before retiring for the night, Jon and Dany had asked them to send for Davos, Uncle Benjen and Aunt Ashara. After these three had swiftly joined the young couple in their sitting room, Jon and Dany had shared the news of the quickening and their intent to officially announce the royal pregnancy to the realm at noon tomorrow. Upon Davos' urging, they had summoned Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand to join the impromptu celebration. The Dornish Prince had smothered Daenerys and had only released her after Ghost had wormed himself between his pack member and the southern Prince. Oberyn had taken it in good humour and shifted his attention to the father-to-be. He had kissed Jon on both cheeks proclaiming loudly that he would personally give the order for the bells to be rung one hundred times tomorrow at noon.
  
  "Only one hundred times?" Jon had teased.
  
  Oberyn had grinned broadly in response. "Don't worry, my King. I will make sure they ring them two hundred times on the day that the first royal princeling or princess is born!"
  
  With this memory fresh in his mind, Jon tapped his Lord Commander's shoulder. "Joyous news indeed, Ser Gerold! I hope you were not too disappointed that Ser Arthur knew before you?"
  
  "Only of the quickening," Ser Gerold was smiling broadly. Jon had rarely seen the famed White Bull so carefree. "The Queen's pregnancy has been a well-kept secret for moons, my King. The Kingsguard is still trying to convince the Dragonguard that they knew before them."
  
  How is that even impossible," Dany asked disbelievingly.
  
  "The Dragonguard may be guarding you closely, but Kingsguards get to read our King's moods, my Queen." Ser Gerold explained. "The very moment he steps into the training yard and starts swinging, we know what kind of day it is going to be."
  
  "Surely I am not that transparent," Jon pouted good-naturedly. "Don't worry, my love. I keep many a secret from my White Cloaks."
  
  "That might mostly be true," Ser Gerold conceded. "But even if we don't know what is troubling you in those instances, we know that something is and we allow you your space. One particular morning though, we could tell that something momentous had happened and after the Queen showed her face in the courtyard at the end of the session and your Graces locked eyes, well, we knew." This time it was Jon who raised his eyebrow in disbelief. Ser Gerold merely smiled in response. "The Queen touched her stomach discreetly and you both looked so happy."
  
  Before anyone could comment, Lord Tyrion pushed the Lord Commander aside, startling him. "Ser Gerold, please allow an often overlooked dwarf a moment to congratulate his sovereigns."
  
  Without further ado, Ser Gerold picked up the little man and installed him up on the table facing the Queen. Daenerys held out her hand but Lord Tyrion, now on eye level with his Queen ignored it preferring to hug her. "I might never again be in such an-exalted position, your Grace. Congratulations, to both your Graces!" Tyrion released Daenerys and looked sheepishly at his King not sure whether he had overstepped.
  
  Jon, however, initiated an awkward hug. "Daenerys and I rule as equals, Tyrion! So we expect you to treat us the same," he joked.
  
  Varys was next to offer his well-wishes. "This is the most wonderful news only second to the joy I experienced upon learning of your existence, your Grace!" He sing-songed and immediately stepped sideways to make room for Maester Pylos, the last to offer his congratulations. Despite the Maester keeping a respectful distance, his smile was genuine and the few words he uttered, heartfelt.
  
  "Thank you, Lord Varys, Maester Pylos." Jon and Dany answered almost simultaneously. "Perhaps we should all take a seat and get this meeting started?" Dany proposed after Jon had helped her to her seat and had taken the chair next to her. The others quickly followed suit. Ser Gerold helped Tyrion down from the table. They were the last ones to be seated.
  
  Jon surveyed the room. Sam's chair was now occupied by Maester Pylos. Sam had finally started his studies at the Citadel. Maester Pylos would be a loyal replacement until his friend was able to return to King's Landing. Davos, seated between his King and the Maester was waiting for Jon to start the actual meeting. The moment Jon's eyes landed on Prince Oberyn, the Dornish Prince winked at him. Jon subtly acknowledged the Prince's gesture and let his eyes roam over the others: Varys, Uncle Benjen, Tyrion Lannister and Ser Gerold. He frowned upon noticing the empty chair usually occupied by the Master of Laws. "Has Lord Royce sent word recently?"
  
  Davos expecting the question, handed Jon a scroll. "Lord Royce has been delayed. He is still needed in the Vale. His ward, Lord Robin, is very ill and Lord Royce is the only one with enough authority to keep the Vale Lords from squabbling amongst themselves."
  
  "Squabbling? " Dany enquired.
  
  Varys exchanged a glance with Oberyn before speaking up. "They are already fighting over who is to become the next Warden should young Robin succumb to this bout of winter fever. The Lords of the Vale are split into two camps: those who want House Royce to stay in power and those who support Lord Harry of House Hardyng, a young man they have started to refer to as Harry the Heir."
  
  Jon frowned. "House Hardyng is a house of minor significance, is it not? If I recall correctly, they are beholden to House Waynwood."
  
  "Lord Harold of House Hardyng is the last remaining male blood relative of House Arryn. He is the grandchild of Lord Arryn's sister." Varys explained. Instead of using his sing-song voice, he spoke with disdain. "That young man is nothing but an empty-headed fool who thinks too highly of himself!"
  
  "Doesn't the Vale follow the primogeniture of the male line exclusively?" Dany asked.
  
  "As most of Westeros does," Maester Pylos confirmed. "Things tend to get tricky when there is no male heir left."
  
  "Is this Lord Hardyng married or betrothed?" Dany asked.
  
  "Not yet. He is not the kind of man who is eager to limit himself to one woman," Varys needn't say more. His tone made it clear how little respect he had for the man.
  
  Davos took charge. "For now, Lord Robin, son of Lord Jon of House Arryn is still heir to the Vale and Lord Royce assures us that he has the situation under control. My King, I trust that this news of Lord Robin's illness excuses Lord Royce's absence. I propose that we start the meeting. I can discuss the other ravens that arrived during your absence later today with your Graces."
  
  Jon hesitated. "Does Lord Royce mention anything else that the Queen and I need to know about before we drop the subject, Davos?"
  
  "Not really," Davos eyed the scroll. "Besides a sincere apology for not returning to King's Landing on the promised date, he humbly requests not to appoint a replacement for young Robin just yet. He will come as soon as... ," Davos took a deep breath. "He writes that the Maester will know by the end of this moon whether the young Lord will recover or-or not."
  
  "We will send him our sympathies." Dany offered. "I shall write the message myself and address it to Lady Royce."
  
  Jon gave her a grateful smile. "Then everyone we need is present and we can start. Davos?" Jon gestured for his Hand to take charge.
  
  Davos quickly checked the list of topics he had planned to discuss. He cleared his throat. "Before we bore your Graces to death enumerating all our accomplishments while you were absent, I believe I speak for us all when I state that we want to hear a short account of your travels first."
  
  Jon grabbed Dany's hand below the table. She briefly glanced at him before taking the floor. "We made good time and arrived at Winterfell earlier than expected. We received a warm welcome from the northern Lords and Ladies. I believe that every noble house of some significance in the North was duly represented." She paused to check if Jon wanted to add something.
  
  "They were," Jon affirmed and added for Ser Gerold's benefit, "Four Stark houseguards shadowed us during the day and four others guarded our door at night. Despite Princes Catelyn's objections, at least three of the direwolves were always present in the Great Hall when court was in session as well as during meals. We were quite safe." Jon and Dany exchanged an amused smile.
  
  Dany continued. "The wedding itself was beautiful and touching despite taking place on an extremely cold day. The short ceremony in the Godswood was held between two snowstorms."
  
  "The heir to the North had a white wedding!" Benjen Stark interjected. His unusual outburst caused most of the other council members to look at him strangely and he quickly explained: "A white wedding is considered a good omen in the North. Northerners see it as a blessing of the Old Gods. Such marriages are believed to be fortunate and fruitful."
  
  "Now that you have mentioned white snow," Maester Pylos jumped in, "the Citadel sent a white raven the other day. Winter is officially here, your Graces."
  
  "Winter is here," Jon repeated the Maester's words. "I wonder if it will get as cold here in the South as it already was in the North before winter officially started. You must understand, while it was cold and snowing in Winterfell, it was significantly colder at the Wall. I wonder how the Free Folk will cope when winter truly hits. It will be impossible to survive so far up North with only a primitive canvas tent for shelter. I pray that the hastily erected barracks will be sufficient to house them all and prove effective enough to keep them from freezing to death."
  
  "We are keeping in close contact with them," Davos reassured Jon. "Sandor knows he can count on us to help the Free Folk find additional shelter. The mountain clans have already offered to house a large number of them if the Crown guarantees regular shipments of food will be shipped regularly and reach them no matter how much they will get snowed in, all of this financed by the royal coffers of course. Tormund is doing what he can to convince his people to consider this. If the Free Folk need more assistance, all they have to do is ask. For now, we are leaving the choice up to them and are remaining respectful of their pride and free spirit, just as you ordered, my King."
  
  "Did any of the Northern Lords staying at Winterfell for the wedding take advantage of your presence to bring petitions before you?" Benjen Stark changed the topic wishing to hear more of Winterfell.
  
  Jon nodded. "Lord Cerwyn tried to address a local issue but I referred him to his Liege Lord. Lord Domeric of House Newton requested for his betrothed to be sent north. You are all aware of the terms of his betrothal and why it is still kept a secret." He paused for a moment. "Lord Newton pleaded that a courtship by letter is not very productive and they are both frustrated by the lack of progress their relationship has made these past few moons. If nobody here objects and Lady Shireen is willing to make the trip to Winterfell and face the cold, I am prepared to allow it. I will need to inform Lord Baratheon of course."
  
  "You need not ask for our advice. She is your ward, your Grace." Davos pointed out and everyone agreed. "I don't think anyone would object as long as the young lady consents."
  
  Jon turned to his uncle. "The Northern Lords brought no further petitions to us. I overheard Lord Manderly discussing a trade deal with House Mormont but I am sure Uncle Ned will write us with the particulars as soon as it has been finalised.
  
  Dany took over. "I believe that all that is left to report about our visit to Winterfell is that Prince Rob of House Stark is healthy and happy and the newlyweds expect their first child to arrive in three moons' time."
  
  "Also, my cousin Robb has officially been put in charge of the northern forces," Jon added. "He has already prepared a comprehensive overview of the north's defenses. I received his written report and know precisely how many additional soldiers will join the northern forces that are already assisting the Night's Watch without endangering Winterfell's defenses. After my cousin returns from his short honeymoon, he will send us another report detailing the available resources, weapons, tents, furs, firewood and many other things that don't immediately come to mind right now."
  
  "We can discuss all that in detail at our next war council, your Grace," Davos signalled Maester Pylos who made a note.
  
  "Gendry, I mean Lord Baratheon, has been preparing similar reports concerning the Crown's stock of weapons, tents and other material set aside for the northern war, Jon. He is also putting together similar information from the other Kingdoms. I have been assisting him here and there but he is managing quite well," Prince Benjen commented.
  
  "What was your impression of the Wall, Queen Daenerys?" Tyrion asked a little wistfully. "I've always wanted to see it. If my visit north had not been interrupted so, uh, abruptly, well... ," he faltered remembering how that particular visit had almost completely ruined House Lannister.
  
  Daenerys quickly jumped in. "The Wall truly is one of the realm's marvels, Lord Tyrion. I hope you will have the chance to admire it one day. But believe me, the sight of the Wall is nothing compared to the experience of meeting the people who live there."
  
  Jon exchanged looks with Uncle Benjen and chuckled. "She met Tormund first. He literally swept her off her feet!"
  
  "I can just picture it." Uncle Benjen grinned widely. When the others looked nonplussed, his uncle added, "Tormund Giantsbane is a head taller than our King and of strong built. The man is wilder, cruder, more free-spirited and more informal than you could ever imagine. Nonetheless, that tough giant of a man is utterly and irrevocably devoted to Jon the Dragonrider . However free the Free Folk claim to be, one summons from our King and they will all fight for him until their last breath."
  
  Dany nodded emphatically. "They are a kind and loyal people and they worship my husband. I also admire their courage, their dedication, their willingness to do all it takes to protect their own. I've seen them labouring non-stop. Their men and even some of their women are helping to strengthen the Wall's defenses and are doing so along the entire length of the Wall I am told. Aegon only had to tell them once he wished for them to adhere to the plans that have been drawn up jointly by the Free Folk and the Night's Watch. I have witnessed how seasoned men of the Night's Watch and proud strong warriors of the Free Folk are putting aside their differences. The few times they reached an impasse while we were there, ferocious-looking men accepted my husband verdict without as much as a single word of protest. This might be Aegon's greatest accomplishment to date!"
  
  "Much credit goes to Sandor Clegane and Ser Jaime." Jon deflected the praise. "I've witnessed first-hand how each of them presented the plans to their men in their unique way resulting in both parties accepting the division of tasks. At least during the time we were at the Wall, the men of the Night's Watch and men of the Free Folk worked side by side each fulfilling the tasks chosen to best suit their abilities."
  
  Dany chuckled. "I heard Sandor Clegane repeat Jaime Lannister's instructions to Tormund and he used fewer words if you do not count the swear words. But the result was there. The Free Folk understood what needed to be done where only moments before they had been gaping at Jaime Lannister as if he had just told them the biggest nonsense they had ever heard."
  
  "I'm not surprised!" Benjen Stark exclaimed. "Remember that time, Ser Arthur, when you tried to explain the concept of southern tournaments to the Free Folk? You had to describe almost every term you used in great detail and even then, they did not understand."
  
  "Try telling them about sailors," Jon grinned. "To further illustrate the successful collaboration between Night's Watch and Free Folk: I happened to be present when a wounded man of the Night's Watch was brought in. Two healers of the Free Folk currently living in the former Maester's chambers at Castle Black took care of him as best they could. The man received first-rate care and the brothers of the Night's Watch expressed their sincere gratitude." Jon looked straight at Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn as he continued. "So you can skip the cynical remarks when the next report reaches us."
  
  Davos had his next question at the ready. "Can you confirm that the Free Folk are still manufacturing fur cloaks and the forces stationed at the Wall will need no further assistance from the south in that regard? Not only the merchants in King's Landing, but several in the Stormlands and Westerlands have asked us to help them procure fur cloaks."
  
  Dany smiled at Davos. "Each member of the Free Folk, not fit for physical work is either sewing non-stop, putting together fur coats and mittens, or can be found knitting shawls, socks or other pieces of clothing. They are using the furs and leathers of their tents since the hunters can't find enough game to keep up the demand. Imagine thousands of these people engaged in this activity along the entire length of the Wall. Another image that got stuck in my mind is of an old man who barely could hold a knitting needle in his shaking hands stubbornly picking up the needles time and again making progress if only slowly."
  
  The moment Daenerys fell silent, Jon added, "The army has been well supplied and a ship carrying unrefined furs is headed for the Wall. The blacksmiths have not been idle either and are still producing weapons as we speak. They have started to store them in crates outside for lack of storage room. All in all, things are proceeding as planned at the Wall."
  
  "That all sounds promising and we can revisit this in more detail at our next war council with a slightly different audience." This time it was Ser Gerold who couldn't keep his curiosity in check. "I would prefer to hear about your reception on Bear Island."
  
  Oberyn straightened his pose. "Indeed, how did you find our dear Cersei?"
  
  Jon hesitated. "We didn't-uh, her reports were exaggerated."
  
  "Of course they were," Varys muttered, "even the dumbest fool knew that."
  
  "We decided to keep our visit to Bear Island from Cersei Lannister and didn't speak to her in person," Daenerys informed them, sounding more confident than her husband on the matter. "We did however inspect her living quarters during her daily walk. We also had the opportunity to observe her without her knowledge. She looked healthy enough. She receives decent food three times a day, is allowed freshwater and soap and has access to a privy. She keeps ten books in her room at all times and can simply ask to exchange them for others. She has been given miniature carvings of the Seven and a copy of the writings of the Seven-Pointed Star. The next time she complains, we will remind her how the prisoners she kept in the black cells were treated on her orders," Dany concluded her account.
  
  "Well-spoken," Prince Oberyn complimented. "But not nearly sufficient! I humbly volunteer to write that letter! Might I suggest adding the threat to take away one privilege for each complaint that she lodges?"
  
  Jon merely rolled his eyes at Oberyn who smirked openly in response.
  
  "Did you ask Lady Mormont whether they found out how their prisoner was able to smuggle crucial messages to Lannister loyalists, thus masterminding at least one assassination attempt on your Graces?" Ser Gerold looked expectantly at his King as he formulated his question.
  
  Jon meeting his Lord Commander's gaze kept his voice firm. "We did not need to. Lady Mormont brought up the issue herself and formally apologized for their failure. To prevent a reoccurrence, they have arrested all southerners on Bear Island that have either visited with Cersei Lannister or have been known to seek contact with one of the servants. These men were all escorted off the island. Ever since each non-native requesting to set foot on Bear Island needs to present proof of his motivations for doing so and his activities are closely monitored until he leaves the island. Cersei Lannister is no longer allowed any visitors. As soon as she heard, she threatened with a hunger strike but according to Lady Mormont, Lady Lannister caved on the second day."
  
  "Why keep her alive, your Grace?" Prince Oberyn challenged his King. "I strongly recommend that you execute her for treason. We have definitive proof that she was behind at least one assassination attempt on your Graces' lives, the one that took place on your wedding day!"
  
  "I am in full support of Prince Oberyn's suggestion, my King, my Queen!" Lord Varys categorically raised his hand.
  
  Jon hesitated and carefully studied the faces of his councillors one by one. He quickly realised that they all agreed with Prince Oberyn. Even Tyrion refused to speak up to save his sister's life. Jon's eyes finally rested on Dany who subtly shrugged her shoulders. He held Oberyn's gaze. "The Queen and I shall take your request under advisement, Prince Oberyn. Allow us to sleep on it. We will announce our decision tomorrow morning." From the corner of his eye, he saw Dany nod her head in support of his statement.
  
  "After visiting Bear Island and Castle Black, the dragons brought us safely home and that concludes our account," Dany looked expectantly at her audience. "The King and I are ready to hear your progress reports, my Princes, my Lords."
  
  Jon tightened his grip on her hand and smiled at her. They had taken turns briefing their small council and could now sit back and listen to the others. Dany stared into his eyes that turned darker when she held his gaze. Without fully realising what she was doing, she moved their joint hands to the slight swelling of her belly. Their environment faded away and for a moment they were both oblivious of the fact that they were still in the midst of a small council meeting.
  
  "I suggest that we take a short break and send in some refreshments. My old limbs are in dire need of stretching." Davos rose to his feet. "I am sure Joni is lurking in a hallway nearby."
  
  "Hear, hear!" Tyrion Lannister expressed his support for Davos' suggestion.
  
  All eyes turned to the Queen as she broke eye contact with the King and rose to her feet. "I might benefit from a short break to answer the call of nature." She smiled shyly as she looked down at her husband. "Save some lemon cake for me?" Jon nodded but rose as well, clearly planning to follow her out.
  
  "Ser Brienne and Ser Robin will accompany her Grace. She will be safe, my King." Ser Gerold addressed the young man as he was about to take his first step to follow after his wife.
  
  Davos stepped in front of his King. "He's right, son. Don't smother her." He kept his voice low so as not to be overheard and then continued as if they were in the midst of a cordial conversation. "I've been where you're at now more than once. Daenerys looks well. Even after taking such a long trip to the cold North in her condition."
  
  "The dragons kept us warm," Jon answered simply his eyes still lingering on the doorway.
  
  "How did Prince Robb react to your wedding present?" Ser Gerold asked, helping Davos distract his King. "You didn't mention that earlier."
  
  A big smile lit up Jon's face as he shifted his stance to better face the two men. "Robb couldn't believe his eyes. I let him admire it at length and thank us a few times before uncovering the mace coated with Valyrian steel that we had custom made for the bride. Lady Dacey, I mean, Princess Dacey had tears in her eyes. My cousin named his new sword Winter's Wrath. Each Lord asked to be allowed to hold it for a moment. Robb and Dacey were once more moved to tears when they made the necessary vows in private." Jon had a faraway look in his eyes.
  
  Davos looked a little worried. "Did they want to know how you came into possession of these objects?"
  
  "Only Robb dared to ask and I told him of a small, hidden armoury on Dragonstone that we discovered a few moons back. It was fortunate that he was too elated at the time and too distracted by his bride to give the matter more thought. Has the Kingsguard started training with the new breastplates and shields, Ser Gerold?"
  
  The knight beamed. "Indeed we have, my King. It is a vast improvement. The Valyrian steel is so light that several were sceptical at first, wondering whether the plates would be strong enough. They have yet to make their first dent. The shields are amazing! But we must not forget to applaud the efforts of Lord Baratheon. I know that the material is top quality but the craftsmanship he has proven to possess time and again-well, you know since you have your armour, your Grace."
  
  "I will think of a suitable way to reward Lord Baratheon," Jon agreed with his Lord Commander.
  
  After a slight pause, Ser Gerold added, "I hope that the breastplates destined for the Dragonguard can soon be distributed. I do not want to create more rivalry between my knights than necessary."
  
  Jon sighed. "You know we can. We only need to find a way to keep it plausible. If ever word gets out that we have discovered how to forge Valyrian Steel, nobody will agree with, or understand the limitations I have pledged to honour."
  
  "How about claiming that we found a hidden dragon statue of solid Valyrian steel in a hidden spot on Dragonstone and had it melted down so we could use the precious material for more practical purposes?" Davos proposed.
  
  Jon stood speechless, his mouth wide open as Dany re-appeared at his side. "What's the matter?" She asked not really worried since she noticed the twinkle in Ser Gerold's eyes.
  
  "Ser Davos just had a brilliant idea, he, uh... ," Jon faltered.
  
  "... voiced the idea that Sam sent us by letter." Davos grinned as he completed Jon's sentence. "That boy is still looking out for you while forging his links in a record amount of time."
  
  Jon quickly explained Sam's idea to Dany as everyone regained their seats.
  
  Two loud bangs drew everyone's attention to Lord Tyrion. The little man had banged his little fist on the table and was rubbing his sore hand. "Now that we have the necessary items at our disposal," Tyrion demonstrated what he meant by lifting a cup filled to the brim with Arbor Gold, "I propose a toast to the Queen and her unborn child. To a new generation of Targaryens!"
  
  Jon smiled and mimicked Tyrion, raising his cup in the air. "I'll drink to that. To the first of Seven!" He announced giving Dany a wink as and they both enjoyed the surprise visible on everyone's faces at hearing the King joking comfortably and openly about getting his Queen with child- repeatedly. All- except Prince Oberyn.
  
  "Then you admit defeat already!" The Dornish Prince raised his cup mockingly, pointing at himself and mouthing 'eight' in Jon's direction.
  
  "Perhaps I misspoke," Jon quipped. "Do not forget, my Prince, the prize is only awarded at the finish line."
  
  "To a healthy child!" Davos shouted effectively putting an end to the familiar competitive banter between the two men and proceeded to empty his cup only to place it upside down on the table in a dramatic gesture. Everybody followed his example. Davos nodded one last time at his King and Queen and quickly resumed the meeting. "Now, to order, let's impress our King and Queen with our accomplishments here in King's Landing while they were dancing at a wedding feast in a Kingdom far, far away."
  
  Several moons later in the royal bed chamber
  
  Jon held Dany's hand during Maester Pylos' examination. As always, it was her patience that ran out first.
  
  "How much longer do you think it will be, Maester? I do not need you to tell me that all is well. My child has never been as active as these last few days."
  
  The Maester used his most soothing tone. "It is all a guess at this stage, your Grace. If not soon then within two sennights at the latest would be my best guess."
  
  "Guess!" Daenerys huffed. "Is that all the information you can give us after all that prodding? And is it still necessary to keep me confined to my bed?"
  
  The Maester looked apologetic. "Perhaps not your bed, a sofa or a chair would be permitted if you kept your feet elevated most of the time. The last time you ignored my advice, I had to treat your swollen ankles and rather painful leg cramps, if you excuse my reminding you, your Grace."
  
  "The child could come as soon as tomorrow?" Jon asked the Maester before Daenerys could voice another complaint. "You didn't mention this two days ago!" This was exciting news!
  
  "Everything is possible at this late stage in her Grace's pregnancy, your Grace. If you are interested in the details... ," the Maester hesitated but both Jon and Dany nodded vehemently so he explained, "I observed a slight widening of the birthing channel today. That is a prominent sign that childbirth is imminent. Will that be all for tonight, your Graces?"
  
  "Yes, thank you, Maester Pylos," Jon replied wishing that the Maester could act more at ease. Even after moons of closely following Dany's pregnancy, Maester Pylos still kept his distance and acted formally in private. As soon as the door was closed Jon hopped on the bed and embraced his very pregnant wife. But instead of smiling at her, he looked preoccupied and bit his lip. "I'll have to summon Thoros tonight, my love. It is time." His voice sounded tense.
  
  "I know," Dany sighed. "I must confess I am rather eager to finally learn what the Lord of Light wants with us," she whispered. They had both been speculating and dreading what R'hllor might ask of Jon. Jon had often second-guessed the promise he had given the Red God on the beach during that strange divine conversation in his head. He still remembered his companions' stupefaction when, according to them, he had temporarily turned into a living beacon of light.
  
  Ever since, Thoros of Myr and Melisandre had read every wish from his lips, eager to serve him in any capacity he might need. It had been a relief when Melisandre had started her journey north but that still left him with a devout Thoros not to mention his friend Sam who had been relentless in his interrogation afterwards and who was still determined to search every book at the Citadel until he found documentation of a similar experience or an explanation for what it could mean. The experience had left Jon with a growing feeling of anxiousness since he had to wait for several moons before he was allowed to contact the Lord of Light again. He had spent many a night during the past few moons worrying, speculating and obsessing before falling asleep. At least he had managed to avoid speaking of it with Dany most of the time so as not to worry her overly much. The only ones he could discuss this with were Thoros of Myr and his strange young cousin, Bran.
  
  Each time he talked to Bran, he had felt their dynamic shift a little. The young boy had slowly transformed into a being of higher knowledge but lately, every word the youth uttered was pronounced on the same monotonous tone devoid of feeling. Despite his cousin's strange behaviour, Jon remained convinced that Bran was doing everything he possibly could to help humanity find a way to defeat the Great Other and the Night King
  
  During one of his conversations with his young cousin, a conversation held with thoughts and images utilizing the magic candles, Bran had warned him to listen to Melisandre's advice and strictly adhere to the promise he had given R'hllor on the beach. She had stressed once again that only the Lord of Light could ensure that the Promised Prince would become powerful enough to stand a chance to defeat the Darkness. Jon had vowed to contact R'hllor shortly before the Queen gave birth, not sooner, not later. This cursed promise had kept Jon awake on many a night
  
  But now the time was finally here. Seeing Dany's worried expression, he took her small hands between his. "You are not my Nissa! I will sacrifice neither you nor our firstborn, regardless of what threat the Red God might utter," he promised her
  
  "I refuse to believe that that is what He will ask of you," Dany whispered back but Jon could feel her heart race. These last few months they had grown closer than ever before. Gradually, they had learned how to rule together. They complimented each other's strengths and weaknesses and by now almost instinctively sensed when to respect the other's authority over their own. Jon was as open with her as his Targaryen ancestors allowed. Dany was the one keeping watch over him during his ' communications' with whatever Bran Stark had become and was the only one who received a non-censured version of the knowledge his young cousin shared with him. But nothing had intensified their bond as effectively as the love, the hopes and dreams they shared for the child Dany carried and would bring into this world any day now
  
  As open as they were with their small council about the economic, financial and political affairs of the Seven Kingdoms and how freely they discussed their military strategy for the Great War with their commanders, they had only informed a select group of the important role that magic would have to play in defeating-or rather in attempting to defeat the Night King and his demonical ally, the Great Other. Thoros, Sam and Melisandre knew most of what he and Dany knew. Davos, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur knew about the existence of the Great Other and how his alliance with the Night King made their other-worldly enemy even more dangerous. Only that knowledge had convinced these loyal men that Jon was not succumbing to Targaryen madness when he relayed to them that he had contacted the High Priest Benerro at the great Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis not in person but by using the flames and had asked him to send his Priests and Priestesses to the Wall to assist Azor Ahai in his quest to defeat the Darkness. For as far as he understood, these servants of the Lord of Light were shadow binders and could protect specific conversations and actions from their enemy by casting shadows over them
  
  Jon had done so at the urging of the three-eyed raven who now used his cousin's body as a vessel to communicate with the last hero. The three-eyed raven had counselled Jon to accept the help of any deity that offered. To succeed in saving the realms of men, it was not enough for humanity to set aside their former enmities. To give humanity a fighting chance, to still have worshippers to empower them, the existing deities were setting aside their internal power struggles and for the first time in eons were attempting to work together. Jon had explained to Daenerys that while the three-eyed raven was the spokesperson of the Old Gods of the North, these Gods had chosen to accept the assistance of R'hllor to reach out beyond the lands of the Northern Kingdom and communicate more effectively with the Prince Who Was Promised, a Prince whose bloodline contained magic bestowed on him by the forgotten Gods of Old Valyria.
  
  Jon tightened his arms around Dany praying that they were doing the right thing putting so much faith in the Lord of Light. "Thoros asked me to summon him to the beach when it was your time, preferably shortly after dusk. Jon swallowed. "We have accomplished so much these last few months. Our armies are armed and trained. The wildfire and numerous barrels of explosive powder have arrived north, war machines, and other weapons are being constructed as we speak. Perhaps we don't need more help from the Lord of Light."
  
  "We did all we could. Are still doing it," Dany agreed. "And that is exactly why you need to contact this Red God tonight. We must keep doing all we can! Let Monty send word to Thoros without delay."
  
  Jon kissed her hair and left the room for a moment. Soon he settled back on the bed next to her and put his hand on her belly. He fought his fear of losing her or his child in the coming days by concentrating on the warmth of her body, heavy with child. "In my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined that your belly could grow this big." He kissed the woollen night shift where it covered her belly button hoping it would distract her from how hoarse his voice sounded. He swallowed, "And how much I would love seeing you like this. Nor could I have imagined I would be so turned on by it." This time the croak in his voice had a seductive edge.
  
  She pulled him flush against her and Jon went willingly resting his head near her breasts. "I still have some time before I need to head out. Dany sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. For a while, they were both lost in their contemplation.
  
  Dany's next sigh brought him back to the present. "I will come find you immediately after," he promised. "You have as much a right to know as I do."
  
  Dany stroked his cheek. "Promise me you won't stay brooding at the campfire with Thoros?"
  
  "I promise," Jon was quick to oblige her. "For now just let me hold you a few moments longer."
  
  Dany was fast asleep when he returned. He debated whether or not he should let her sleep. Sleep did not come easily at this late stage of her pregnancy but she would want to know. His decision made, he quickly readied himself for bed and crawled under the furs with her.
  
  "Dany, my love," he whispered. It took several soft kisses to the corner of her mouth and his hand cradling her face before she opened one eye.
  
  "I'm not in the mood," she turned away from him. "Let me sleep."
  
  He smiled softly and continued to pepper her mouth with light kisses waiting patiently for her to realise that he had a valid reason for waking her up. Ever since she had grown heavy with child, he never disturbed her sleep if it could be helped. It had been more than a moon now since one of them had woken the other in the middle of the night to satiate their baser urges as they still teasingly called their couplings. Before her pregnancy tired her out this much, that had still happened regularly. Now Jon only indulged himself when she initiated it. She had quickly realised that her pregnancy did not stop him from finding her sexually attractive. Quite the opposite! Despite the limited number of positions still comfortable to her, he still worshipped every inch of her body and she felt confident enough to let him know how much her pregnant body still craved his attentions.
  
  He watched her expression change and felt her grow tense as it dawned on her. Gripping his arm she lifted her head. "Tell me!" She released her grip slightly when he smiled at her. "Tell me!" She repeated when he did not start speaking quickly enough for her liking.
  
  He took both her hands to reassure her. "I need to have IceFire reforged using your still lukewarm blood to cool down the reshaped Valyrian Steel. We are allowed to use the blood you will spill during childbirth. I will arrange to have everything at the ready. The midwife will capture most of it in a large bowl. Gendry and Thoros will be on standby in the forge. Thoros has to perform some kind of chant that will seal the magic in your blood to the sword. If all goes well, I will be able to summon the sword's magic each time I bring it in contact with a single drop of my blood. Using my mind, I will then be able to set the sword on fire. Mind you, these will not be ordinary flames. I will be channelling the power of R'hllor directly!"
  
  "Lighting the sword on fire with your mind? Same as you light the candles?" Dany asked her eyes wide open.
  
  He nodded. "And I will need to use this power during my prophesied duel with the Night King."
  
  "The vision," Dany gasped, "during which you are fighting the Night King engulfed in flames."
  
  Jon nodded and sighed. "I wish the prophecy would also show us the outcome of that fight." He held Dany's eyes. "You know? Just as they have let us know that the Great War won't start for real before you are fully recovered from childbirth and able to ride Viserion into battle."
  
  "And that unlike our mothers, I will not perish giving birth." She was not as sure as Aegon about all this but had promised him to keep faith. "Did you learn anything else tonight, some weakness of that Great Other perhaps?" She was disappointed when he shook his head.
  
  "Focus on the good news, Dany." He did his best to keep his tone light. "No sacrifices of wives or newborns required, only a bit of your blood that you will lose in any case." Before she could bite her lips he kissed them tenderly. She returned the kiss and they clung to each other, somewhat reassured but also scared to get their hopes up too high. Jon was the one to pull back only to urge her to lie on her side so he could spoon her. "Try to catch a bit more sleep, my love. Who knows, by tomorrow night, we might be parents."
  
  The next few days, Jon often paced the hallways wanting to be close by when Dany went into labour. This morning, he kept himself busy studying the scrolls that summarized several moons of preparation in the room next to theirs. Eighty per cent of the Northern forces were stationed at the Wall. His cousin Robb, a father of a two moons' old daughter, was set to arrive at Castle Black any day now to take over command of the bulk of the Northern forces from Lord Umber who would be heading to Eastwatch to take command of the Northerners stationed there. To everyone's surprise, Princess Dacey had decided to remain at Winterfell. Motherhood had had a greater impact on her than anyone had foreseen but her decision had been influenced by her good-mother's health problems.
  
  An epidemic of winter fever currently burning through the North had made a victim of Princess Catelyn. She had been bedridden for over two sennights. After she had sufficiently recovered and was allowed to leave her bed, it quickly became clear that the fever had left her mind addled. Since Maester Luwin's predictions were not very hopeful and Lady Dacey had sufficiently recovered from giving birth to Princess Arrana, Robb's wife had taken over the duties of Lady of Winterfell. Prince Robb left Winterfell reassured that his wife and daughter were safe for now and that Dacey was more than capable to keep things running. She would also be of great assistance to his father in coordinating the defenses of Winterfell and spearheading the evacuation of the North they had mapped out in case the royal forces at the Wall were not successful in containing the enemy.
  
  Davos entered his study with a new progress report of the united royal armies heading north. His Hand took a seat keeping his King company but letting him be. Jon scanned the report knowing it contained nothing that he didn't already know. The Riverlands and the Vale had each sent half of their fighting men as ordered and they had crossed the Neck two days apart from each after. The other Kingdoms had been asked to send only their strongest warriors. The training of these 'Southerners' was closely monitored and only those able to withstand the cold tolerably well were allowed to remain. The Southern Kingdoms and the Iron Island were asked to contribute to the war effort in other ways.
  
  Although negotiations between the Warden of the North and the Company of the Rose were currently at a stalemate, the Commander of the Company of the Rose had pledged his support to King Aegon and Queen Daenerys confident that the Crown would help them settle in the North eventually. Their forces over four thousand strong had made camp in the Gift. There they were currently training the Free Folk to fight in formation and in return, the Free Folk taught them how best to protect oneself from the cold temperatures. Reading the progress reports Tormund dictated to the squire that his stubborn friend had only agreed to take on after Jon had pointed out that the lad could write, always put a smile on Jon's face. Tormund respecting the fighting skills of the Company of the Rose well enough was soon on the best of terms with Commander Snow. According to Tormund this Snow alone was worth at least ten Crows and could hold his liquor, but was no substitute for the Dragonrider and would King Jon get his arse over here as soon as possible?!
  
  His lips still turned slightly upwards, he exchanged a glance with Davos. "How long has it been since Uncle Ned's last raven mentioning the Company of the Rose?"
  
  "A moon at the very least," Davos answered promptly. "He was not best pleased you undermined him by letting them march north as an official part of the unified royal army."
  
  "I swear, Davos, if he was not my uncle by blood whom I owe so much..." Jon sighed. "He is trying my patience. Four thousand highly trained warriors willing to defend the north and he would turn them away."
  
  "Not only defend the North, but they could also populate a part of the North that lies idle and make it prosper. More taxes for the Warden of the North and the Crown. I believe Prince Eddard sometimes clings too much to the old ways. Perhaps we should ask Prince Robb to advocate for us."
  
  "My cousin already tried," Jon cut in. "His last missive mentioned that they were discussing the final details and that he is hopeful that the agreement shall soon be signed by both parties."
  
  "Last I heard they were negotiating the percentage of taxes owed and finalising the terms of the mining rights that is true. But what causes the stalemate is your uncle's unwillingness to grant the Company the right to establish trading relations between their settlement and Essos without limitations or interference of the Warden of the North." He looked at Jon. "Be prepared for Commander Snow to petition you to overrule Prince Eddard's decision. The Company of the Rose made it clear that they are fighting for the Crown now. They are grateful that you allowed their families to set up camp in the abandoned village halfway between Duskendale and Rosby. Both noble houses have followed your orders and are assisting the immigrants. The living conditions have improved significantly. The settlers will have everything they need to survive winter."
  
  "I would have punished my vassals if this had not been the case! The Crown has granted Houses Rosby and Rykker enough coin to cover their expenses." Jon fell silent again, scanning the last paragraph of the report.
  
  Now that the Seven Kingdoms were living in peace, the small council could ignore the internal borders and focus on strengthening the defense of the coastlines to safeguard Westeros from foreign enemies seeking to attack while the bulk of the royal forces were deployed north. The Ironborn and the Redwyne fleet patrolled the west coast. The east coast would be closely monitored by the Dornish who in addition to their ships had been given command of a small portion of the royal fleet. The Dornish would also receive assistance in the form of intelligence provided by the Golden Company who had promised to report any suspicious movements of Essosi ships in the harbours where The Golden Company had representatives. Additionally, Harry Strickland had ordered all his men to help keep alive the tales of fearsome dragons guarding a strong, united Westeros.
  
  The major part of the northern fleet had been tasked to stay stationed at the Bay of Ice and Eastwatch, ready to assist or evacuate ground troops as a last resort. Several of these ships were currently providing the troops with freshly caught fish and other seafood.
  
  "I know I asked this before, but is young Brandon Stark still safe and well beyond the Wall?" Davos asked the moment Jon put the scroll down.
  
  As always when Bran was mentioned, Jon carefully formulated his response. "As well as possible, for as far as I can tell. He reassures me each time I ask. I told you before that he found refuge with allies beyond the Wall, the very ones that called him to come north and he lives in an underground dwelling protected by magic spells. The Night King can't locate them unless he overhears us naming these allies. I will risk neither Bran nor his allies so please let it not be me who compromises their safety by continuing to question me. Always keep in mind that the Night King is a powerful greenseer whose visions are mostly triggered by certain words and actions."
  
  "Fair enough," Davos relented. "When did you last visit the dragons, Son?"
  
  Jon looked away. "I can sense that they are all right."
  
  "So they are not worried about Daenerys? They do not need your attention? Can they not help you relax?" When Jon kept avoiding his gaze Davos stood. "Come on, I am certain that Rhaegal and Viserion will be glad to see you."
  
  Two firm knocks and the door opened slightly. "Your Grace?" Before Ser Arthur could add anything else, Ghost pushed his way in. Instead of greeting his human, the direwolf pushed Jon out of his chair.
  
  Davos chuckled. "Ghost and I are of a like mind. Come on, son. Join us for a walk."
  
  As it turned out, Prince Aemon made his parents wait ten more days before making his first appearance. A baby's cry came from the royal bed chamber just before the sun reached its zenith on day 424 of the reign of King Aegon the Sixth. They announced the birth of the Targaryen heir to the people of King's Landing by ringing the bells for the larger part of the afternoon and ravens flew to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms spreading the happy tidings and reassuring the realm that both the Queen and the Crown Prince were in good health. A few days later came the official announcement that all celebrations to honour the birth of Prince Aemon were postponed till after the Great War had been fought. At noon, exactly ten days after Prince Aemon took his first breath, the King and Queen appeared on the balcony for the first time to show the royal child to the people of King's Landing. They would make a habit of it to do so on every seventh day at noon if the little prince resided in the Red Keep
  
  The royal couple was not granted much time to enjoy their recently extended family. Little Prince Aemon was not a moon old before the reports started arriving from the North with news of the occasional wight being sighted by wargs. A conversation with Bran who now referred to himself as the three-eyed raven revealed that the dome in the far North was still in place but something was stirring. Small groups of wights were travelling in all directions. Not long after, Sandor Clegane and Tormund co-signed a message asking when the Dragonrider was finally flying north to burn the dead fucks once and for all, adding that they needed King Jon's help to monitor the Lands of Always Winter. Their scouts and wargs could only do so much and lately, several scouts had gone missing.
  
  Even though Jon was itching to fly north he was stalling- waiting for Dany to regain her strength so they could make the journey together. He realised that his time was almost up when he got up one morning and noticed that Ghost was no longer guarding Prince Aemon's crib. He did not need to hear Varys' report of several confirmed sightings of a white wolf to know that Ghost was travelling north at great speed so he could fulfil the role he was destined to in the Great War.
  
  Jon discussed their options with Dany for the better part of a day before they were ready to present their mutual decision to the small council. The protest of his advisors was overruled. The King would fly north on Rhaegal but would leave Viserion behind. That way the Queen could join him as soon as he sent word that it was no false alarm and they would soon engage the enemy. If, as they expected, the King was only needed to help the other wargs assess the situation and there was still time, Jon would return to King's Landing after an absence of approximately two sennights, hopefully with a definite deadline for when both dragons and their riders would need to join the war effort.
  
  Prince Aemon was barely six sennights old when his father flew north to the far north to help the Free Folk scout the enemy's movements from up high.
  
  Interlude 55 : The circle of life
  
  To Lord Edmure of House Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands,
  
  Dear good-brother,
  
  It is my turn to congratulate you and your lady wife on the birth of a new member of your house. Minisa is a beautiful name for a Lady of House Tully. We wish her every happiness and a healthy life and have dispatched a messenger with our present for your daughter.
  
  My wife wanted to write this letter in her own hand but currently the winter fever has rendered her incapable of performing such a task. Please don't spend even a moment of the time you could be rejoicing in the birth of a healthy child worrying over us. Maester Luwin has reassured me that my wife is amongst the lucky ones that will recover and my good-daughter, Lady Dacey has been a great support to us all. Despite recently having given birth, she has kept my household running and Catelyn is being given the best care possible. We have high hopes that my wife will recover any day now. Little Princess Arrana is her joy and greatest motivation to get better. Thus far Catelyn must keep to her rooms to prevent the fever from spreading to others and has only been allowed to observe her granddaughter from a distance. My wife promises you faithfully that she will write to you as soon as she can hold a quill in her hand.
  
  Your good-brother,
  
  Prince Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North
  
  To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk
  
  Your Grace,
  
  Allow me to express my gratitude for allowing us to make our betrothal public. Lady Shireen and I are forever in your debt. We will of course postpone the wedding until after the Great War.
  
  I am proud to announce that the restoration of the lady's chambers at the Newfort is complete.
  
  I won't take up any more of your time and will close by confirming that we have fulfilled all the requirements Prince Robb of House Stark has made of House Newton in support of the war effort.
  
  I remain your loyal subject,
  
  Lord Domeric of House Newton, Lord of the Newfort
  
  Decoded message to Lord Varys, Red Keep, King's Landing
  
  Tenth attempt succeeded. Prisoner's wrists found cut in dead of night. Do I need to stay on Bear Island? Bird69.
  
  To Lord Willas of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden
  
  Please hand this letter to my sister
  
  Dearest Myrcella,
  
  It is with the greatest of joys that I write these words in response to your announcement. In a few moon's time, I will be an uncle for the very first time! I have also written to uncle Tyrion. I did so to beg him to use his excellent relationship with King Aegon to help persuade his Grace to grant me leave to visit you shortly after my nephew or niece is born. It is not clear to me whether my house arrest is still in force or not. For the time being, I can only express my happiness in writing. I trust you to stay as healthy as you proclaim to be. Perhaps someone can draw a picture of you and your extended belly in profile? I have never seen a pregnant woman up close.
  
  Congratulations, dearest sister! Be sure to convey my well-wishes to my good-brother. I will pray to the Seven every night before I go to sleep and ask that I will be allowed to see you and your child with my own eyes in a few moons' time.
  
  Your loving brother who misses you very much,
  
  Tommen Lannister
  
  Decoded message to Prince Oberyn of House Martell, Advisor to King Aegon
  
  Your Highness, Fish well under control. I successfully gained the trust of his Lady. She instituted four of the proposed improvements already. Any day now, Lord Tully will send a message to King Aegon, no doubt taking all the credit. I also suspect his Lady is with child. More later. Lorimer
  
  To the Senechal and Archmaesters at the Citadel, Oldtown
  
  Fellow scholars,
  
  I write to you with grave tidings. A type of winter fever is raging through the Northern Kingdom. I have sent out ravens to my fellow Maesters in all corners of this Kingdom and to colleagues residing in keeps near our borders in the Riverlands and the Vale informing them of my findings. In the afflicted regions, one in ten of the sick succumbs to the fever. Casualties are mostly the elderly and the very young or sickly. By my knowledge, fifteen cases have been reported in the Vale and three times as many in the Riverlands. For now, Skagos and Bear Island, as well as the lands north of the Dreadfort, remain unaffected and I have urged the Maesters residing there to take precautions and forbid anyone from leaving or visiting until further order.
  
  I am in need of your assistance. The supplies of milk of the poppy in the North are running low. Can you dispatch some of your stock to us in all haste and increase production? I have also written to Maester Pylos in King's Landing so that he may inform the King. Fortunately, the fever has not spread to the royal forces stationed near the Wall. By my last count, one family in seven living south of the Dreadfort has at least one member that has fallen ill with this fever. As far as I know, that is the second-highest rate of afflicted ever recorded, greyscale being the only disease that has proven more infectious so far.
  
  Please support me in persuading the Maesters in other Kingdoms to remain vigilant. At the first sign of fever, they should separate the afflicted from the healthy.
  
  I hope to write with better tidings next time,
  
  Maester Luwin,
  
  In the service of Prince Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell
  
  To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk
  
  Dearest nephew,
  
  I was pleased to read that you and your wife are in good health and know that I pray every day for a safe delivery and a healthy new Prince or Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. You have come a long way and I am very proud of all that you have achieved. You have earned the happiness new fatherhood will most certainly bring you. Enjoy it as much as you can. Time passes quickly and before you know it, your children will have grown and be making plans for leaving the nest.
  
  Lord Baratheon has safely arrived and brought with him a small retinue as announced. However, nobody mentioned that Lord Dayne would be amongst the visitors. I suspect you had your reasons for surprising not only Sansa but your poor Uncle and Aunt as well?
  
  Lord Baratheon has commandeered our forge and is currently making some final adjustments to the incredible breastplate that you are lending my eldest son. I must say that I have come to appreciate Lord Gendry. He is a Baratheon through and through with all the virtues and none of the vices of his late father. At least I know which answer to give him should he ever decide to ask for the hand of one of my daughters.
  
  On that note, I think you and I will have to talk one of these days. Lord Dayne has given me fair warning. He intends to formally ask for Sansa's hand on the very day he returns to Winterfell at the end of the War. He did not mince his words when he informed me that at that time he will no longer allow me to stall and will expect me to have my answer ready. Is it wrong of me to wish for the war to drag on for a few years yet? Taking under consideration the determination that Lord Dayne showed, I fear that I will have to keep my daughter locked up, should I decide to refuse his request.
  
  Next time you have knowledge that two prospective suitors plan to visit Winterfell, please give your poor, faithful subject and uncle by blood fair warning. I pray that one day soon you will have several daughters of your own to protect and will have a better understanding of my current predicament.
  
  I know Maester Luwin keeps you informed of the scale of the fever epidemic that is weakening a number of my subjects so I won't trouble you with the details. I will only mention that your aunt is on the mend even if at times her mind is addled and she believes herself years younger than she actually is. It is rather disconcerting. At times she cannot remember that she is a mother of five, let alone a grandmother. Maester Luwin hopes it is only a lingering effect of the milk of the poppy that will soon disappear but he cannot state that with absolute certainty. I pray to the Old Gods every morning and every night to grant my wife a full recovery.
  
  The rest of my family are well for now. Am I allowed to repeat once more how grateful I am to the Old Gods for saddling me with Lady Dacey as a good daughter? She and Robb are of great assistance to me and may take credit for keeping me sane. The little Princess is my pride and joy and I am sure that Robb and Dacey will make quick work of giving her plenty of siblings to play with. I hope that my next letter will contain the news that your aunt has made a full recovery and my daughters are still manageable despite their respective suitors having left to fight at the Wall.
  
  I shall count the days until the message arrives announcing the birth of a new Targaryen Prince or Princess. A big hug from Arya and greetings to you both from all your cousins and good-cousin,
  
  Your uncle and faithful subject,
  
  Prince Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North
  
  P.S. The Commander of the Company of the Rose has left Winterfell to oversee the training of his men and consequently negotiations will resume after the Great War.
  
  To Lord Tommen of House Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock
  
  Allow me to share my happiness with you. Lord Luthor of House Tyrell was born on day 320 of the reign of King Aegon. Both your sister and your nephew are I good health. Letter with more details will follow soon.
  
  Your good-brother, Lord Willas of House Tyrell, heir to the Reach
  
  To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name
  
  Dear cousin, I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Princess Arrana of House Stark was born on day 364 or your reign. Both my wife and child are in good health. A messenger carrying a longer letter is already headed your way.
  
  Bursting with pride and happiness,
  
  Prince Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North
  
  Decoded message to Lord Varys, Red Keep, King's Landing
  
  Enclosed you find a list of the casualties the winter fever caused this last moon. Next to their names, I added their station in life, date of death and if applicable, occupation as well. I leave the decision up to you whether to show this to King Aegon or not. The report I sent him merely contains a mention of the fatality headcount for each category (highborn, soldiers and smallfolk). I sent a similar report to the Citadel. I pray to the Seven that next moon's update will be accompanied by a shorter list of casualties.
  
  Ever a faithful subject of House Stark and the Crown,
  
  Maester Luwin, in service of Prince Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell
  
  Decoded message to Prince Oberyn of House Martell, Advisor to King Aegon
  
  Your Highness, the Red Witch disappeared beyond the Wall as planned. I can confirm the rumours that Meera Reed returned to Castle Black with a wildlings escort but without young Prince Stark and should be halfway to Greywater Watch by the time this message reaches you. Free Folk and Night's Watch are working together be it begrudgingly. Whenever necessary, representatives of the mountain clans forcefully remind both parties of King Aegon's orders and wishes. As far as I can tell, they are doing an excellent job in keeping the peace. His Grace made the right move entrusting this task to them. I might be biased, but this is a faithful account of what is happening here.
  
  I am counting the days until you come north to join the war effort, so we can renew our acquaintance.
  
  Artos of House Flint
  
  Consolidated reports of birds 25, 26, 27, 76, 77, 114, 115, 119, 124 and 143; recorded by Lord Varys on day 420 of the reign of King Aegon:
  
  Three additional shops on the street of commerce have started selling fur coats, leather gambesons, shawls and mittens all of northern origin.
  
  On this Seventh day, a larger gathering of smallfolk than usual was celebrating out in the streets, the celebrations reaching as far as Flea Bottom this time. Many toasts were shouted. Mostly folk were toasting to the health of the Targaryen royal family. There are more wagers being made about the gender and the exact birth date of the royal baby. Almost eighty per cent are putting their coin on the child being a Prince.
  
  This is the first day that only five of my birds overheard anyone cursing the Crown for making the tenants responsible for the upkeep of their small portion of the streets in front of their establishments: Two tavern owner and three shopkeepers were caught complaining about the royal edict forbidding the disposal of human waste in the city streets or burying it less than a foot underground in their back gardens. Still no barrels of shit were spotted heading west to the farms closest to the city as the Crown encourages.
  
  This is the fifth day in a row that bird 114 tasked to infiltrate a group of smallfolk on their daily walk to the Bay to do laundry reported less than ten complaints about having to walk further than before since the Crown forbade the pollution of the smaller streams containing potable water.
  
  It is a pity that we can't compare the low number of people suffering from the runs in Flea Bottom to previous years since nobody saw the need to record these cases before the new laws were implemented. Credit must also be given to the Septons and Septa's for their willingness to help our plan to improve the living circumstances. They have steadily been teaching basic hygienic rules to the smallfolk for moons now. Healers have confirmed that the number of severely sick have decreased substantially as has the death toll caused by dehydration. Tarly's idea of entertaining the Faith for a full day at the Red Keep and 'exchanging ideas' with them was a masterstroke.
  
  Several birds have heard rumours of tavern owners overseeing the collection and transport of modest handmade gifts intended for the royal family to be sent to the Red Keep after the Queen has given birth. Note to self: don't inform the King and Queen of this.
  
  The City Watch duly noted the names of all new visitors, nobody slipped by undetected today.
  
  Day 420 main conclusions: Despite the new edicts forcing the Smallfolk to change their daily habits, the Crown's subjects living in King's Landing remain devoted to our King and Queen. Most are convinced that the Targaryen restoration has provided more benefits than detriments and that they owe their improved living conditions to King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. Once again, most of my birds added to their list of families that were destitute before and now have one or more members that earn an honest living and are now capable of feeding and clothing their immediate kin.
  
  All my birds attest that they feel safer when they are out there, the city smells cleaner, food is easier to come by and prices remain stagnant.
  
  Reminder: Tomorrow at dawn several birds will spy on the fishermen bound for the stream north of the Kingswood to determine how much the fish population has increased.
  
  To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name
  
  I am sending four additional teachers your way. I vouch for them. They have the necessary skills to teach young and old to read and write. I hear nothing but favourable reports of you and Queen Daenerys here in Oldtown. If anyone is still wary of dragonriders, they do not mention so within my hearing. Before our Sept the smallfolk are still queuing to be allowed to spend a few private moments before Oldtown's renowned holy statue of the Mother to pray for the Queen's safe delivery and a healthy royal child.
  
  To answer your question: I just forged my seventh link and am slowly gaining the respect of most of the Arch Maesters. Give my regards to Daenerys and everyone there that still remembers me.
  
  Your friend, loyal subject and industrious acolyte
  
  Samwell of House Tarly
  
  Decoded message to Prince Oberyn of House Martell, Advisor to King Aegon
  
  (when absent, only Lord Varys is allowed to break the seal)
  
  Your Highness, the Red Witch returned after an absence of six days and now resides at Castle Black and seems in no hurry to depart. Three red priests arrived yesterday straight from Essos and more are expected. Nobody knows what their purpose is in coming here. The only rumour I hear is that they were refused to assist with the strengthening of the large iron gate, the one guarding the last remaining entrance to the lands beyond the Wall that has not been sealed off with frozen water yet.
  
  I can confirm that no one is currently being treated for winter fever. The majority of the men occupying the sick ward sustained injuries during training and a few others have still not entirely recovered from the construction accident I described in my previous report.
  
  We are all waiting eagerly for the dragons to arrive.
  
  Artos of House Flint
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter the dead will engage the living. The War for the Dawn will span 2 chapters. Estimated chapter count: 58.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  The enemy makes his move
  Chapter 56: The Enemy makes his move
  
  Summary:
  
  It is at Castle Black that the action starts. The interlude, set slightly in the past, sheds some light on the supernatural aspect of the conflict between the living and the dead.
  
  Notes:
  
  Living up to its title ('conspiracy'), this story has always been more about the planning, scheming and political games than about the actual battles. In my universe, the living had plenty of time to prepare and come up with strategies to defeat the dead. I know that there are stories out there that have created intricate versions of the Battle for the Dawn that D&D could learn something from. I have read only a few, afraid to become a copycat, something that I have always striven to avoid.
  
  A year and a half ago, my version of the War for the Dawn took shape. I like the end result but then, I am biased. So I cross my fingers and hope that most of you will enjoy my supernatural take on the War for the Dawn that will span more than one chapter.
  
  Note to guest reviewer(s): Thanks for your insightful comments.
  
  Regarding Ned Stark: My version of him is one of an honourable man whose authority has never been questioned much. Over time, he has grown stubborn and set in his ways. Once a notion gets stuck in his head, it is difficult for him to revise his opinion. And some of his wife's beliefs have gotten under his skin, that and the fact that he doesn't believe in changes for the North. It is kind of my way of accentuating that the younger generation is more open-minded.
  
  Regarding: Khal Drogo and the Dothraki. Keep in mind that this is an alternative universe and they are not of much consequence in this story. They are not the same Dothraki as in canon. Daenerys' only encounter with them was told in a short interlude where Drogo saves her from being raped and acts as an almost perfect gentleman afterwards. So of course, she would defend them to Harry Strickland.
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon stood high up on the Wall staring at the horizon. Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold flanked him but kept silent. Ser Rayford and Ser Lionel waited by the iron cage that would return all of them to ground level. The rest of his Kingsguard was stationed at Eastwatch, Ser Gerold's way of covering his bases. Jon was facing south-east. Dany was set to arrive today. They had sent her a raven the moment the enemy was approximately seven days away; that way she didn't have to up and leave little Aemon immediately. Her answer had been brief and to the point, mentioning not much more than her expected time of arrival. She would arrive with a day to spare. The latest scout reports estimated that the dead would reach the spot where they had prepared their first ambush either tomorrow night or the night after that.
  
  This was Jon's second stay at Castle Black in as many moons. After a stay at the Wall of sixteen days during which he had taken over from the Free Folk wargs and eventually discovering the large host of the enemy heading for Castle Black, Jon had returned to King's Landing to spend two more sennights with his wife and baby son. Reports that reached him there had confirmed that the enemy had indeed chosen Castle Black as its destination so Jon had done his duty and had left for Castle Black a second time without Dany to help dig the last of the trenches and bury small barrels with explosive powder and caches of wildfire.
  
  He did not mind working double shifts thawing the ground with the assistance of Rhaegal, certainly not if it allowed Dany a bit of extra reprieve. She still wished for a few extra days to wean off little Aemon and he had done everything in his power to grant her as much time as possible. Ever since their little Prince had been born, Dany had been sharing breastfeeding duties with Aemon's milk mother and had been advised not to stop too abruptly. Besides, Maester Pylos believed that her body needed a few more days to grow stronger since she would be joining a war. "Each additional day will make a vast difference, your Graces." Maester Pylos had counselled the young couple.
  
  However much Jon would have preferred for her to sit out this war and stay safely in King's Landing with their son, they sorely needed Viserion's assistance. Jon and Dany had discussed their options at length and neither of them was willing to risk Viserion's life by letting the dragon head into danger without a rider to guide him. Besides, they were scared of deliberately sabotaging the few glimpses Jon had been granted by the Gods. In those visions, she had been burning wights beyond the Wall, near Castle Black to be precise. Dany had been adamant. She would join her husband and together they would engage the enemy here at Castle Black. She would play a vital part in annihilating him and wouldn't stop until the last wight had been reduced to ashes and every last White Walker, including their demonic leader, had been shattered into harmless heaps of ice crystals, crystals the dragons could melt or even better turn into steam clouds that then would be dispersed in all directions so that humanity would never have to face the same threat ever again!
  
  By now, Jon had been at the Wall for two sennights already. He had made brief visits to most of the forts and had talked to the commanders there. He had done the same with his military commanders. He had neglected these men during his previous trip north when he had spent the bulk of his time assisting the wargs. One of his scouting trips had lasted several days. This time, he had made an effort to be more social and walk amongst the troops to boost the morale of his soldiers who were dealing with temperatures so much colder than anything they had experienced before. And Jon knew all too well that it would get worse before it got better.
  
  To be more attainable, he had been sharing a room with Robb and taken all his meals in the large common room, joining a different table each time. Every morning he selected a different commander to accompany him on his daily inspections and Jon made sure that most of the men had at least once witnessed him riding his dragon when he left for his daily routine mission to scout the woods north of the Wall for signs of the enemy.
  
  Ser Gerold broke his King's contemplation when he noticed the young man ball his fists. "We received word from Ser Loras, Ser Oswell and Ser Patrick this morning. All is well at Eastwatch. The three of them and also the small group of royal guards that we sent to Eastwatch with them are assisting your commanders with the drills. They report that skirmishes between the different regiments of the royal united army are far and between and never more serious than the normal squabbles that you can expect in an army camp. Most of the men enjoy listening to stories told by soldiers hailing from Kingdoms they never got a chance to visit."
  
  "That's good to hear. Did they mention how the horses are withstanding the cold?" Jon asked his eyes still fixed on the south-eastern skyline.
  
  "They did, my King. The horses are coping. Lord Tyrell did an excellent job selecting them, despite never having set foot in the North during winter," Ser Arthur praised Lord Willas' contribution. The Reach Lord was responsible for the royal cavalry and had handpicked most of the horses visiting the stables of several Kingdoms. His reputation for breeding horses was not only lauded in Westeros, but Jon had also learned that Highgarden made good coin selling some of their best horses to wealthy Essosi merchants. More than sixty per cent of the horses that passed Willas Tyrell's strict selection had been bred in the North. The heir to the Reach had put aside personal pride and been smart enough to recognise that the animals' resistance to cold temperatures was the most important factor by far, pedigree, built, intelligence and the other habitual qualities the Reach Lord normally took into consideration all came a distant second to that one vital requirement.
  
  "Good news, your Grace!" Lord Royce shouted from twenty feet away. Jon took his eyes of the skyline to see Lord Royce hurrying over. He knew that the Vale Lord was overseeing the training of the archers who had been carefully selected to man the scorpions here at Castle Black. Ser Gerold had instinctively taken a protective stance, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His Lord Commander would never get used to unexpectedly visitors, running towards his King. Fortunately, Lord Royce took no offence and slowed down bowing reverently if slightly out of breath.
  
  "Good news, your Grace!" The proud Lord repeated his face flush with excitement. "The bolts exploded on impact, igniting the wildfire caches!"
  
  "I'm very glad to hear that." Jon smiled, relieved that this issue had finally been solved. They had been working on a way to set off the hidden caches of wildfire and crates of explosive powder. The dragons could only do so much. But each arrow, even the ones that had been drenched in oil had extinguished shortly after being fired. The thick bolts launched by the scorpions had suffered the same fate, no matter what they had tried. Not even wrapping part of the bolt in an oily cloth and consequently sacrificing the balance and accuracy of the projectiles had worked. Nothing had until Gendry had come up with the idea of forging hollow spearheads for the bolts and filling these with explosive powder.
  
  This success would give his forces on top of the Wall more purpose. Even if in the end all his commanders, including the representatives of the Free Folk had agreed it was suicide to have forces stationed north of the Wall and they would be fools if they did not use the strategic advantage the large ice structure afforded them to a maximum, they had questioned the need for having so many soldiers come north. They had more than double what they deemed necessary to defend the Wall from above. Jon had not relented and seen to it that all the castles but also the battlements along the entire length of the Wall had been manned from the Bay of Ice to the Shivering Sea and were prepared to withstand a massive attack.
  
  To convince Lord Royce that he was genuinely impressed, he added, "The other day I witnessed some of the Ironborn archers hit a specified target from a large distance. Your men taught them well! And what you just told is another big step forward, Lord Royce. Please congratulate your men. I will always remember their service and loyalty. See that are duly represented in the Great Hall this evening. Tonight in the presence of my Queen, I will make several announcements that may interest them."
  
  "Your Grace," Ser Arthur touched his shoulder. "Look up!"
  
  Jon relaxed and released a deep breath as he witnessed the shape of what was unmistakably a dragon growing larger. Dany and Viserion had arrived! He would get to hold her but also they could now move forward with their strategy. Ghost found him the moment Jon stepped out of the winch-drawn cage. Human and direwolf quickly approached the clearing that had been cordoned off to serve as a landing spot for the dragons. Dany's small frame that had almost regained its former slenderness gracefully slid of her dragon. The moment she touched the ground, Viserion used his large wings to shield the royal couple from curious eyes as they embraced.
  
  Dany was the one to break off their kiss and looked him over. "You seem well enough," she concluded as she moved her hand through Ghost's fur. The direwolf, who long since had grown to accept the dragons as a part of his pack, had joined them under Viserion's wing.
  
  "I am now." Jon smiled, steadying her when Ghost's enthusiasm almost made her lose her footing. "And you look stunning as always, my love. How is our little Prince?" Blaming the cold for the blush on her cheeks, he enveloped her face with both hands.
  
  "As healthy as he can be, according to Maester Pylos. Every day Aemon gains a little weight. He smiles ever so often and oh, he now hugs the dragon egg in his sleep. That is so cute! I had the wet nurse draw a picture. I'll show it to you when we are out of this cold. It was really hard to leave little Aemon behind. I pray we can end this war in a matter of days. Already, I am eager to return to our sweet son." She leaned into him and initiated another kiss.
  
  "Everyone is doing all they can to ensure just that," Jon promised a bit later. "Come, love. Let me show you inside. Many are eager to meet you for the first time and the ones you already met are very impatient to renew their acquaintance. Instead of asking after my well-being, they only ask after you. I swear: you are more popular than I am these days!" he teased good-naturedly before addressing his direwolf, "Go find Greywind, Ghost. You can join us in our room after supper."
  
  Jon and Dany entered the large common room where at least a dozen men were loudly discussing battle plans. Upon noticing the royal couple, most of them dropped to one knee. Jon left it to Daenerys to handle the situation. "Please rise, my Lords, men of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk. As long as we are all at the end of the world fighting the same enemy, such courtesies are suspended. A simple bow will do. In the next few days, we will all be fighting side by side. I am pleased to meet you all and am grateful for your loyalty to the Crown and your service to the realm."
  
  Robb Stark was the first to approach the royal couple. Refraining from hugging his good-sister in this public setting, he instead opted to bow formally. Lannister was quick to imitate this gesture but the sight of Daenerys affected him deeply. The competent fighter and brilliant strategist, who most here at Castle Black had learned to respect despite his morose temper and bitter disposition, dropped to both knees. Holding out one hand he looked up at the silver-haired Queen with moist, pleading eyes. "Allow me to kiss your hand, your Grace. You are a most welcome sight. I recognise much of your mother's beauty and grace in you."
  
  Watching his wife lose some of her confidence as she debated how to react to this unexpected gesture of House Lannister's infamous member, Jon acted. "And you, Lannister, are still the same flatterer if I am to believe the stories of your younger brother. My wife just decreed how all men are to behave around her." He gestured for Jaime Lannister, whose cheeks had coloured red from embarrassment, to rise to his feet.
  
  Daenerys' stoic expression relaxed a bit when Sandor Clegane bowed before her and led her to a chair where a steaming bowl of soup was placed on a sturdy table that easily seated twenty men. "Thank you, Sandor," Dany responded, holding the steaming cup between her cold hands. "Is Tormund not with you?"
  
  "You're safe for now, Dragon Queen. Tormund is at Eastwatch." Sandor's eyes twinkled as he took a seat opposite the royal couple.
  
  "Is the leader of the Free Folk, Mance Rayder, at Eastwatch as well? I would have liked to make his acquaintance."
  
  Sandor's face fell. Jon quickly explained. "We heard the news of his death a sennight ago. A while ago, upon hearing that a small clan stubbornly refused to leave Hardhome, he lead the delegation to bring them to safety, claiming that as King Beyond the Wall, he stood the best chance to get through to their headstrong leaders. He had been missing for more than two moons when Orell's eagle spotted him walking amongst the enemy, his eyes blue, his skin showing signs of decay."
  
  Dany looked shocked. "I'm so sorry, Sandor."
  
  Jon looking for a distraction, signalled a few men to join their table. Nobody had dared make a move before receiving an invitation. Gone was the easy camaraderie that Jon had slowly but surely cultivated with most of these men. The arrival of the Queen and perhaps Lannister's dramatic performance had reminded the men of their station.
  
  Robb boldly claimed the seat next to Daenerys, immediately showing her the drawing of his baby daughter that he always carried in his side pocket.
  
  "She has my eyes, nose and chin but for now, her hair is darker, more like Dacey's. Mother claims that that can still change. Many babies are born with dark hair only to have it change to a completely different colour afterwards. "What about your son? Do you carry a drawing of little Prince Aemon?"
  
  Dany shook her head. "No, but he's easy to describe. Except for his purple eyes, Aemon is the spitting image of his father. His dark, brown hair has already grown out a bit and the first adorable little curls are appearing. He will grow up to become a most handsome Prince, even surpassing his father's charm."
  
  "Your son will most certainly have inherited his charm from you, Daenerys." Robb quipped.
  
  "Stop flirting with my wife, Robb!" Jon interrupted. "I hope you have been smart enough to move your stuff to another room. I've grown tired of your snoring and found a better roommate."
  
  Robb didn't blink an eye. "Way ahead of you, Cousin. Tonight, I will spend the night in the barrack where the men from Winterfell are staying. It is a pity that Gendry and Edric are stationed at Eastwatch though. We could have had so much fun! One word of advice to you, my friend: Keep in mind that the room next to yours is assigned to your Kingsguard and the walls are paper thin."
  
  Jon merely rolled his eyes, caressing Dany's hand under the table.
  
  Robb wasn't done ribbing his royal cousin though. "On second thought, they must be used to it. Perhaps you should order Commander Pyke to clear all the other rooms in your wing."
  
  Jon pretended to call his bluff. "Monty, find Commander Pyke and ask him to join us at the table unless he is dealing with an emergency. I wish to introduce the Queen to him. Then you and Renny can spread the word: all my commanders need to make an appearance at supper to meet the Queen. Those on duty may leave after the announcements. Remind them that the war council scheduled for tomorrow at noon will go ahead as planned."
  
  "At noon?" Dany asked, now finished with her bowl of soup. She grew self-conscious when she caught Sandor smirking.
  
  "We are preparing the men to be awake at night. Only a quarter of our troops is on duty at dawn, the others are allowed to sleep in." Ser Gerold informed her. He was the only one of the Kingsguard to have accepted a seat at the table. Ser Rayford stood guard behind his King; the other two had left the room.
  
  Dany turned to Jon and hissed quietly. "Then please, brief me of the goings-on around here so I can avoid stepping into delicate situations or making a fool of myself by asking silly questions."
  
  "I asked the same thing upon arrival, Daenerys," Robb reassured her.
  
  "And you didn't mind Sandor making fun of you?" Dany asked casting a glance a Sandor who hid most of his face behind his cup of ale.
  
  "Who? Clegane? I am slowly warming up to him. Have to make the effort because Jon recommends him so warmly." Robb shrugged. "He is an acquired taste."
  
  "Stop monopolising my wife," Jon protested good-naturedly, encircling Dany's shoulder. "She didn't fly here to keep you company."
  
  "Allow me to bring you up to speed, my Queen." Ser Gerold intervened the bantering between the cousins and proceeded to inform his Queen of the basic rules and daily routines; routines that were sure to be interrupted as soon as the enemy showed up.
  
  The next morning, Daenerys accompanied Jon on his daily inspection. This time they were guided by Lord Royce. The royal couple studied the knights of the Vale as they were performing their mounted morning drills. Dany was impressed by the battle formations never before having witnessed anything similar.
  
  "Most of this is overkill. If we can keep the enemy north of the Wall, the horses won't be used. And even if the worst happens, most of our enemy is on foot and they will simply swarm us from all sides. In that case, it is better to hold them off with a shield wall. Most commanders agree with me."
  
  "Then why bring so many horses north?"
  
  "Well, the knights travelled here on horseback of course and they are also a great asset in case we need to move troops quickly from one fort to another. The drills you are witnessing are to maintain the horses' stamina and keep them warm; Also the drills are a steady reminder that these animals need to obey their rider's every whim quickly and efficiently." Jon whispered in her ear.
  
  "These are difficult exercises and formations. Consider me impressed." She kept her voice low. "As far as I can tell our armies have used their time here well enough. Look at all these large orderly camps. So many wooden barracks have been erected in such a short time. Who would have thought that men from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms would flock to the Wall, ready and eager to engage a mystical enemy?"
  
  "All men have worked hard. We can be proud of what we have accomplished-have inspired, Dany. Never before has such a large, diverse army been brought together. Men from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms will fight beside men of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk and do not forget the four thousand men of the Company of the Rose, who less than six moons ago still lived in Essos. With the help of the furs, mittens and other winter gear we have given them, they are withstanding the cold surprisingly well."
  
  "Must be those distant Stark genes," Dany teased. "You don't seem to mind the cold as much as I do either."
  
  "I fear it will get worse, love. Wait until the enemy approaches for real. They bring the cold with them. A few days ago, while scouting the woods for the enemy, I discovered a small group of scouts frozen to death. I must have found them shortly after they died and fortunately could prevent them from becoming slaves serving the Night King. But let it be a warning and put on as many layers as you can. Make sure you are never separated from Viserion when the enemy is near. The dragon will help keep you warm and safe. And if for some unforeseen reason you have to dismount, keep your limbs moving."
  
  "I know, Aegon. Last night alone, you told me at least four times," she gently admonished him.
  
  "I am just a concerned husband who loves you very much," he whispered in her ear, his eyes following the complex figures the knights of the Vale were executing.
  
  "You convinced me of that last thing thoroughly and repeatedly last night," she whispered back feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "And here I thought you would not trouble me with your baser urges when the battle is imminent."
  
  "As if I am the guilty party here!" Jon put his hand on her lower back. "But I do admit that I counted the days until you arrived, even though part of me wished you could have stayed in King's Landing with our son."
  
  "I understand only too well," she sighed. "I feel torn as well."
  
  "Allow me to quickly inform Lord Royce we are visiting the southern forces led by Lord Tarly next. You will enjoy the drills of the Dornish more, I believe. Most of them fight with a long spear and are very skilled. Gendry has forged a new type of spear and several are training with it. Arya came up with the design."
  
  "Princess Arya is here?" Dany exclaimed surprised.
  
  "Gods, I hope not! Uncle Ned would kill me. She swore she would help defend Winterfell now a large part of the Stark houseguard left to join the royal army. No, my sweet, Arya merely sent some drawings to Gendry. She designed a longspear with spearheads on both ends and a double handgrip in the middle. But in truth, it are two short spears with both handles clicked into place. They are very easy to assemble and just as easy to separate again. In the middle of a fight, you can switch from a longspear to two short spears and back again, surprising your enemy."
  
  "You said something about Princess Arya swearing to defend Winterfell. Do you believe raiders might be bold enough to attack the stronghold?" Dany frowned.
  
  "Chances are small but the assignment gave Arya purpose. My cousin also solemnly vowed that she would protect the rear of the caravan in case of an evacuation. You know all the contingency plans as well as I do," he added as he felt her stiffen.
  
  "They were much easier to cope with while we were planning solutions to hypothetical problems in our council room in the Red Keep far away from the threat."
  
  "I know, dearest. But brace yourself, things are about to get real very soon."
  
  Jon's predictions turned out to be off by a few days. They had calculated the estimated time of the enemy's arrival based not only of their Kings' descriptions of the fog rolling in from the far north but also on the observations of the Free Folk scouts and wargs. So the wait continued, despite the daily incoming ravens from the other forts mentioning similar fog waves freakishly moving over the icy landscape. The thick fog was now visible to all who stood on top of the Wall. The Fog waves sometimes covered a fraction of the open area between the tree line and the Wall but up until now, it kept its distance from the Wall itself. Neither wights nor White Walkers had been spotted as yet. But it was highly likely that they were there, using the fog as cover. The only certain thing was that slowly but surely the fog was spreading out over the entire length of the Wall, making Jon and his commanders uneasy.
  
  The biggest part of the royal armies was stationed at Castle Black, the second biggest at Eastwatch, the other castles were all manned to capacity but not only were these forts smaller, but the top of the Wall also wasn't as wide there as it was here at Castle Black or Eastwatch. At Castle Black, there were long stretches up on the Wall wide enough for a dozen mounted knights to ride abreast. They had divided their forces thus, believing that Castle Black would bear the brunt of the attack but also because from Castle Black they could dispatch entire regiments at a moment's notice. Leaving nothing to chance, Jon had ordered each fort commander to send at least one report a day to Castle Black, always around the same time of day.
  
  The enemy's unexplained delay was a nuisance. The men were getting restless. Castle Black had been in a state of full alert for days now expecting the enemy to launch its first attack at any moment. Up until now, nobody had come up with a logical explanation for the enemy's reluctance to engage. All they had were speculations.
  
  When the attack was three days overdue, Jon and Sandor Clegane convinced the war council to allow small groups of Free Folk to launch surprise raids on a small section of the enemy's forces that been spotted several times near the ruins of Craster's Keep. Jon kept an eye on the raiding party from high up, while Dany remained at Castle Black, standing by to defend the Wall in case this was a trick of the enemy: luring the dragons away so they could launch their massive attack.
  
  The first two raiding parties were a success. The chosen Free Folk returned in high spirits boasting loudly how they eliminated hundreds of wights, at least half of them big undead animals. Jon on the other hand grew restless. Killing a hundred wights meant nothing in the big scheme of things and something else was up. High up in the air he had felt a presence calling out to him and had done his utmost to ignore it.
  
  But now in the early hours of the morning, holding Dany in his arms, listening to her breathe in and out, he dreaded that ignoring the feeling might have been the wrong decision. The more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling grew and he cursed himself for his cowardice. Why had he not tried to define where it came from? Rhaegal could have helped keep him keep his guard up and not do anything rash. Was it because he now had a wife and child that his courage was failing him? He tossed and turned, his mind going back and forth before finally exhaustion got the better of him and sleep took over.
  
  The next evening he flew out again the moment the Free Folk sent the signal that they had reached the tree line. These last few months, narrow trenches had been dug to hide the caches of wildfire and explosive powder. The Free Folk used the uneven terrain covered by snow to cross the clearing. If they kept their heads down, their white-grey furs did the rest. Jon flew out high above the clouds and only reduced his altitude when they reached the area shrouded in mist. This time the Free Folk were ambushed by a horde of undead bears and after he helped fight them off, incinerating most of the undead animals, the survivors decided to call off tonight's mission. Jon watched over them until they crossed half of the undulating terrain and he knew they would reach the gate safely. Deciding to scout the area one last time before calling it a night as well, he slowly circled the area when he felt it again. Someone or something was luring him down. The feeling was stronger, more pressing than the previous time.
  
  He carefully scanned the ground below him but the thick, white fog that hid the enemy's main host from them also did not allow him to detect the source of this invisible tether pulling him down. Asking Rhaegal to stay vigilant, he completely separated his mind from his dragon and searched for anything he could use: a stray crow or any small life form still surviving on the ground below. He needed to find an animal or bird, whose eyes he could borrow for a moment. Jon closed his eyes and instantly felt a powerful mind opening up to him.
  
  He saw the frozen ground and several shadows moving around him, all tinged in yellow and felt protective towards them. Looking down, grey furry legs trotted through the snow and he became aware that he was pulling something heavy. Looking over his shoulder everything fell into place. ' Bran! ' Jon had warged into Summer. The large wolf whined quietly in Bran's direction but Jon could detect no reaction. His little cousin just lay there with his eyes closed. Before severing his connection with Summer, Jon studied the creatures that surrounded the sledge, carrying Bran in the direction of the only gate whose tunnel had not yet been sealed off.
  
  Bran had never dared to name or describe his newfound allies but Jon had guessed right. The creatures that accompanied his cousin were smaller than humans, but not childlike. They had nut-brown skin and their extremities that Jon compared to hands had three large sticks ending in sharp black claws and another smaller one that could serve as a thumb. They all had the same large pointy ears, gold and green slanted eyes and no visible nose. Certain that they meant Bran no harm but were serving as his escort, Jon severed the connection, deciding to keep an eye on them from above until he was sure that his cousin and the Children of the Forest safely made it to the gate.
  
  As the caravan was halfway across the open area, Summer suddenly increased his speed. The direwolves instincts were spot on. Jon could feel the cold intensifying and looked over his shoulder to scan the tree line. The mist had thickened substantially and was slowly creeping towards the small caravan. Jon checked and saw they still had a big enough head start and turned Rhaegal around. The dragon did not need to hear his rider's command and immediately rained fire on the trees in front of him. Helped by the light of the flames, Jon looked on as the fire consumed a group of wights. Not all were caught in the flames. At least as many left the protection of the treeline and went after Bran's little caravan, even if that meant leaving the cover of the fog. Rhaegal released a second burst of fire. Still enough several of them escaped and kept pursuing the sledge.
  
  Summer would have made it if it weren't for the fact that he had to avoid a deep trench. If he had not skidded to a stop, the sledge would have tipped over and Bran would now be lying in the ditch. Jon watched nervously as the small creatures worked together to lift the sledge with Bran on it to the other side of the trench.
  
  Meanwhile, the enemy quickly gained ground. Rhaegal roared and incinerated the ones closest to the sledge. Still more appeared. Looking over his shoulder to check on the progress the little caravan made, Jon detected one of Bran's companions had not kept up, it had probably gotten stuck in the snow. Upon further examination, Jon realised that the unnatural drop in temperature had surprised the Child of the Forest and it had frozen to death. Sending out a prayer that he was doing the right thing, he asked Rhaegar to burn the poor creature before it could become part of the Night King's army. Rhaegal complied only to turn around immediately after and release another burst of flames in the direction of approaching wights.
  
  Summer had picked up speed again and Jon reckoned that as long as Bran's companions could keep up, they would all make it to the gate. Realising that Rhaegal could make it to the Wall and back in no time, he gained altitude before dipping toward his forces on the battlements. Rhaegal roared, turning all heads turned upwards. Jon shouted at the top of his lungs, "Open the gate! Allies are arriving! Obey your King!" He repeated his order a few times, not backing down until a horn blasted once. He urged Rhaegal to fly back to check on Bran and his companions.
  
  The sight that met him there surprised him. The fog had spread, reaching far beyond the treeline for the first time. Bran and his allies, however, were near the gate and would make it. Looking over to the enemy, he shivered. The wights were no longer in pursuit. They just stood there. Thousands of them, like frozen statues, their eerie blue eyes staring at the Wall as more and more wights joined them. After one last look at the ever-growing number of the enemy army, Jon asked Rhaegal to drop him off in front of the gate that had been raised high enough to let them all pass. Rhaegal watched over his human until he had assisted the entire caravan inside the tunnel. Only after the gates were being lowered again, did the dragon fly to the other side of the Wall.
  
  Jon and the Children of the Forest stood eye to eye for the first time as the men of the Night's Watched worked to secure the heavy gate.
  
  His cousin addressed him for the first time. "I would introduce you but the Children have no individual names. Besides we are not safe yet. The enemy can still send in the cold and freeze us to death."
  
  Jon stared at his cousin's dull eyes. "Are you all right, Bran?"
  
  His cousin shook his head and once more spoke flatly. "Explanations can wait. Get me to the other side and give the order to seal the tunnel. They should sound the horn and prepare."
  
  Several men of the Night's Watch stopped what they were doing and gaped at the boy who dared to order the King of the Seven Kingdoms around like a servant, never mind where he had come from or who his companions were. These men had all heard of the long-winded debates and the many arguments pro and con sealing off the last remaining passageway.
  
  "I'll help you to the other side," Jon agreed but Bran' eyes had rolled back and Jon sensed Bran was in full warg mode again, this time urging Summer onward.
  
  "Your Grace!" Ser Arthur and Ser Rayford came running up, with Sandor not very far behind.
  
  "Where is Ser Gerold?" Jon answered, shouting as well.
  
  "Keeping an eye on things high up on the Wall." Ser Arthur reached his King first.
  
  "Then that is where I will go as soon as things are handled here!" Jon declared. Upon seeing Cotter Pyke approach with Monty and Renny at his heels, he shouted, "Commander Pyke, evacuate the tunnel and seal it off!" Jon ordered.
  
  Commander Pyke looked surprised. "Your Grace? Are you sure? There is no going back from there."
  
  "SEAL-IT-OFF! The situation has changed. There is not an instant to lose. An attack is imminent!" Jon exchanged a glance with Bran who gave him a small nod. Then he added a little calmer, "There is always a way to reverse the situation if you have two dragons as allies.
  
  As the Commander left to give the necessary orders Jon addressed his squires. "Renny, Monty, find Bran and his companions a private room. See that the fire is stoked so they can warm themselves and bring them plenty of warm broth. I count on both of you. Sandor, can you make sure that my cousin and his friends reach their quarters safely and receive no unwanted visitors? I will need you to stay there until my squires have found sufficient men to guard them!"
  
  "Nobody will so much as look at them. Leave it to me," Sandor smirked. "Some of the Free Folk will gladly volunteer to help keep the Crows and other Southerners away.
  
  "Thanks, Sandor! Ser Arthur, escort me to the elevator." Jon ordered as they all moved toward the southern exit.
  
  Sandor stopped in his tracks. "You've got to be kidding me! Even a Free Folk toddler climbing the Wall one-handed is faster than that fucking contraption! Use your fucking dragon!"
  
  Ser Arthur repressed a smile. "He has a point, my King."
  
  Jon gave Sandor a small nod in thanks. "Then that is what I will do. Look after my cousin and his friends, Sandor. I told you about him, didn't I?" Jon had lowered his voice.
  
  Sandor not always grasping the need for diplomacy or discretion answered jovially. "Aye, that you did, Friend. Forgot to tell me that the poor fellow is blind as a bat though!"
  
  Jon swerved his head, studying his cousin. "Bran?"
  
  Bran once more shook his head impatiently. "I'll explain later. Come find me later as soon as you have a moment to spare. In the meantime, don't worry about me. I have more eyes than anyone here, even you."
  
  A day later, high up on the Wall
  
  Jon spared a moment to track Dany's small silhouette south of the Wall. She had told him she would be visiting some of the barracks that afternoon while he kept his men company on top of the Wall. He easily spotted her silver-hair. She was down there, talking to a group of soldiers that were off duty. Reassured that Prince Oberyn and Sandor Clegane were doing an excellent job standing in for her Dragonguard, Jon had not protested when she had suggested it. Being too high up to follow her progress as she continued her walk, Jon crossed to the other side of the Wall where several of his commanders were gathered and was immediately accosted.
  
  "How do you fight an enemy you don't understand?" Lord Tarly complained. Jon had made sure all his senior commanders had been summoned up here if even for a short time, those off duty as well as those in command of the ground troops. He needed all of them to familiarize themselves with the enemy that just stood there staring at them in large numbers for a full day and a night now. At first light, the fog had grown thicker and had shielded the wights from the feeble daylight. They had known from previous encounters that daylight was one of the enemy's weaknesses. Still, when dusk returned, the enemy had not moved an inch. As the fog slowly lifted, even more pairs of blue eyes than yesterday stared at the Wall.
  
  "And how do you fight an enemy you can't get to!" Lord Royce grumbled on Jon's other side. What use is my cavalry if the Wall stands between us and the enemy?!"
  
  "Pray that the fucking Wall holds or we are all walking around with blue eyes in no time!" Sandor exclaimed. "King Jon told you..."
  
  Jon held up his hand to silence the big man and spoke calm but firm. "The Wall has been sealed off, Lord Royce. And will stay that way. No matter how many times you voice your protest. Surely, you see them standing out there. They are too numerous. They would swarm over your precious cavalry like ants. Trust my word. I have fought them before. I would have you speak with my uncle, Prince Benjen who fought them several nights in a row. I know you value his word. Unfortunately, he is stationed at Eastwatch."
  
  "I value your word at least as much, your Grace. I apologize." Lord Royce stumbled red in the face and Sandor standing behind Lord Royce winked at Jon and mouthed ' fucking kneeler '.
  
  "But we fight more uh disciplined than the Free Folk. Surely a disciplined shield wall would hold them." Lord Tarly tried.
  
  Jon shook his head forcing himself to stay patient. He had lost count how many times he had explained this already. "No shield wall can hold them. These wights have no sense of self-preservation. We believe they are just brainless puppets doing whatever their master orders. They would just heap up on top of each other and crawl over your fine shields. Out there we are vulnerable. Up here we can make a stand and hurt them. Better pray that the Night King doesn't have a magic trick up his sleeve to hurt us," Jon answered, choosing to ignore the slight to the Free Folk. If Jon had to choose between the knights of the Reach or his friends of the Free Folk, he would fight beside Sandor or Tormund every time. Nobody was fiercer and more effective, not even one of Lord Tarly's precious soldiers holding up their mighty shields.
  
  "Pray hmm, is that what those red fanatics have taught you? Why are those heretics even here, your Grace? I heard a rumour that you stopped them from casting a spell on the gate. You planned all along to seal off the tunnel, did you?" Ser Kevan Lannister held his King's cold stare.
  
  "The gate is stronger than any in the Seven Kingdoms and has been reinforced with dragonglass spikes. I did not see the point as I do not believe Priests can cast such spells. Still, these Priests are our allies and I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting my allies. They are here on my orders and have a task to fulfil. And yes, it had always been the plan to seal off the tunnel if we were vastly outnumbered." Jon held firm to the tactic that he and his small circle of counsellors dealing with the supernatural aspect of this war had come up with. 'How would these commanders react if they knew that I used pieces of invaluable Valyrian steel to add extra spikes to the heaviest steel gate of all Westeros and all these Red Priests are casting shadow spells to shield our plans and key conversations from the Night King as well as praying for the flames of our torches and fire baskets not to go out due to the unnatural cold the Night King can send our way using his very own kind of magic?"
  
  "You should soon get some rest, my King." Ser Gerold intervened. "The Queen counts on you to help her feed the dragons before retiring."
  
  Jon nodded, took his leave of the group of commanders and started walking towards the iron cage. "The Queen and I should also start alternating. Just as the rest of our men, we should be on different shifts." Jon sighed. "How can I expect the army to adhere to this strange regimen of three-way shifts and me and the Queen me being off duty simultaneously?"
  
  Ser Gerold waited until the cage started moving so that nobody could overhear them. "You agreed to start alternating the moment we came under attack. We aren't under attack- yet. And stop defending your every order, my King. These Lords owe you unconditional obedience."
  
  "You are right, of course. I just thought it would help if I explained one more time. And you were right about me being tired as well. I should go down and feed the dragons so I can get some rest afterwards."
  
  "Tired and worried. We are facing an unpredictable opponent. Did your cousin reveal anything of value when you spoke to him last night?"
  
  "Only that his abilities have grown more powerful and he needs to stay close to me. He was glad to hear we have manned the entire length of the Wall and counsels to expect the unexpected. I'll let you know when I know more." Jon promised.
  
  Ser Gerold raised his eyebrow. "Maybe. I know there are things you are keeping from me, your Grace."
  
  "I am no longer the small child you had to guide every step of the way, Ser Gerold." Jon held firm under Ser Gerold's stare. "Each of you has his role to play and knows what is necessary to fulfil that role."
  
  "But I am responsible for your protection, your Grace. I agree a military commander does not need to know why red priests and other strange creatures are conferring with you behind closed doors. But..."
  
  Jon threw him a stern look and Ser Gerold pressed his lips together. They descended the rest of the way in silence. Jon sighed. "I'll tell you more, later in my quarters. First I must make sure our conversation will be shielded from the Night King."
  
  "How d..." Ser Gerold started to say as a man of the Night's Watch opened the door of the cage.
  
  "Prince Oberyn, nice to see you are fully recovered and thank you for guarding the Queen," Jon said, throwing Ser Gerold a warning look.
  
  "A stupid winter fever cannot cripple a Prince of Dorne for long, Aegon. Months of training and then this." He gestured to the layers of fur he was wearing. "If Arianne could see me now, I would be the laughing stock of Dorne. I hope you won't tell her that my first sennight here was spent in bed shivering and snivelling like a weak maiden."
  
  "I won't. You, however, will have to hope that Varys remains your most loyal ally and friend." Jon took a step closer to the edge motioning Prince Oberyn to take a look."
  
  "What the Hells! So many blue eyes! I know you described them to me but fuck!" Prince Oberyn's head turned from left to right. "It feels as if we are their prisoners, stuck on this damned Wall and they are laying siege!"
  
  "Not you as well, Oberyn. It was the right decision to seal off the tunnel. Just look at their numbers! And we can't even see their entire army."
  
  "You believe that there are even more hidden out there, Aegon?"
  
  "At least double of what we can see. If not, they are somewhere else but all the updates from the other castles came in. This is the only place under siege." Jon paused, then leaned in closer and kept his voice low. "Last night I dreamt that the wights dug a tunnel under the Wall without us knowing and attacked the barracks of the Knights of the Vale enslaving all their horses. I woke up when they were halfway to Winterfell."
  
  Oberyn raised his brow. "A nightmare for sure. Surely, you can tell the difference between a prophetic dream or a nightmare?"
  
  "Yes, luckily I can and it was nothing more than a nightmare. Still, the Night King must have a plan of sorts. This standoff can't last." Stepping away from the edge he added. "I was about to go down for a quick meal, feed the dragons with Dany and then to bed. Join me?"
  
  "Is that an offer, your Grace?" Oberyn's eyes twinkled suggestively.
  
  "Just join me for the meal, you idiot!" Jon laughed feeling his body relax. He had needed that. "And some ale before I retire. Alone, the ale we can drink together, retiring I will do alone."
  
  "Forsaking the wife already?" Oberyn teased deliberately misunderstanding the King's words once again. "If you do that, she won't be alone for long."
  
  Jon chuckled. "Keep on dreaming, Oberyn. Keep on dreaming."
  
  Later that night, Jon and Dany were resting. Ghost had joined them in their modest quarters and was slumbering in front of the door. "I can understand Ser Gerold's frustration. You still haven't told him how you plan to trick the Great Other and most of your commanders don't even know that there is a Great Other to contend with," she told him as she lay in his arms.
  
  "Ser Gerold would try to stop me. And my commanders, I need them to focus on their role in the fight," Jon defended his decision not to divulge everything to his commanders. "I can't have them second-guessing our strategy or worse being distracted by fear of the supernatural. Either they will think me mad and won't believe me or they will be terrified. Many will think that we won't stand a chance if I explain what we know of the powerful magic the Great Other has empowered the Night King with."
  
  She turned to her side and faced him. "How many did you eliminate with your raids?"
  
  Jon sighed. "My best guess: a few hundred. The darkness not to mention the fog makes it difficult to make a reliable estimate. Not worth the risk if you ask me." Then his tone lifted. "The good news is that Bran claims that all is still going according to plan and that Lady Melissa assisted by the other Priests successfully shielded our conversations from the enemy so far. They use shadowbinding to hide my conversations with my little cousin from the Night King and this Great Other. The Red Priests are working together to protect what we discuss in our strategy meetings and the most sensitive conversations as much as they can. They will also call on R'hllor to prevent our torches from freezing when the enemy approaches."
  
  "Does this mean that the Night King is coming in blind?" Dany looked intrigued.
  
  "I wouldn't say that. He is a greenseer after all. Also, keep in mind that the enemy can sense warm bodies from afar. There is no way around that. But trying to overhear our plans may be one of his motivations for stalling, aside from wearing us down and slowly freezing us to death, that is."
  
  Dany considered this for a moment. "There is no hiding the pendulums and he will surely sense how big an army we have brought. And he knows about the dragons."
  
  "Maybe he doesn't know we have two yet." Jon countered. "Rhaegal and Viserion know what is at stake and one of them is always hidden on our side of the Wall."
  
  "Maybe." Dany had her doubts. "Has your cousin been able to find out more about that vision of me defending Castle Black alone? Can he explain where you are?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "That was one of the first questions I asked. He cannot help us with that. He only repeats that he is convinced that I am alive and unharmed when that happens."
  
  "He has kept himself confined to his room. Has he been spying on the enemy? Why doesn't he want to see more people? I have yet to meet him!" She sounded frustrated.
  
  Jon touched her cheek. "You can't think of him as your good cousin Dany." He shook his head when he noticed her stricken look. "Those are his words. He claims that he is no longer the Bran Stark we knew. Whatever he is now, he no longer is entirely human. As he explains it he became a vessel for the Old Gods of the North. He calls himself the three-eyed raven now. Giving up part of his humanity was necessary to receive his new powers. When I protested, he told me in an emotionless voice that it was the only way and he needed to give up part of himself to save the realm. He vows the part of Bran Stark that still exists deep inside doesn't regret any of it." Jon's voice broke.
  
  Dany gave her husband a moment to gather himself before she posed her next question. "Then surely, his sacrifice must have yielded some result."
  
  Again Jon shook his head. "Not as much as you wish. He only confirmed we were doing all the right things. But he hasn't been able to see much of the enemy or find out his plans. You see, that dome works as a magic shield. My cousin has only caught brief snippets after enemy forces left the shelter of the dome. That is how he knew he was no longer safe beyond the Wall. The only thing he keeps repeating is that the enemy has not shown all his cards yet and that the battle we need to initiate tomorrow evening is not the only move our enemy will make."
  
  "Most of that we could have worked out for ourselves. So," she stroked his cheek and looked at him a bit uncertain, "if I understand correctly, this night most likely is the last night that we still have left before all hell breaks loose?" Dany asked.
  
  "Depending on how the battle will proceed, yes. To be able to fight non-stop we have split our forces in shifts that will take turns fighting. Bran advises us to alternate as well. The dragons can't keep at it without rest and Bran fears that the enemy will not disappear when the sun comes up this time. He believes tomorrow will be a very short day and soon the enemy might be able to stop the sun from rising at all. Even if that is not the case, we must be prepared for the eventuality that the magic of the Great Other has given his servant the ability to keep going during the daytime."
  
  "Oh," Dany reacted a bit downtrodden.
  
  Jon pulled her closer remembering how only a few days ago she had talked of returning home after less than a sennight.
  
  Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke again. "Seeing the catapults, the war machines and the numerous pendulums, not to mention how all the Kingdoms answered the call to arms and listening Lannister drone on about all the traps that have been laid out and the enormous arsenal of weapons at our disposal, even wildfire and other explosive substances, I had hoped things would be-easier." She swallowed.
  
  "I'm sorry, my sweet. This was never going to be easy. But we stand a good chance." He cursed himself for not sounding more convincing, but he had promised never to lie to her. He drew her nearer to him. "Do you have some gossip, from the Royal Court? Some quarrel between your ladies-in-waiting perhaps? Or did some highborn lady discover her husband had a bastard?"
  
  Dany chuckled. "None of the above. Nobody was cuckolded to my knowledge." She paused a moment to think. "This is not gossip but Lord Tyrion, he no longer fancies Lady Roslin. He is sweet on an exotic looking handmaid. I don't know if you met her. Her name is Shae."
  
  "Does she give him the light of day?" Jon asked, visibly relaxing.
  
  "Yeah, she does, but whether it is genuine, only the Gods know." Dany's finger curled a lock of her husband's curls around her finger. Earlier you stated this might be our last peaceful night?"
  
  "Most probably," Jon conceded.
  
  Dany looked deep into his eyes. "Then please, husband, make it count."
  
  "So we are all in agreement? The dragon will attack the wights blowing as many as he can to the Seven Hells while we brace ourselves for the inevitable counterattack?" Lord Tarly looked around the room taking in all the grim but determined faces.
  
  Ser Gerold chimed in. "Then let's all join our respective companies. Tonight is the night!"
  
  Daenerys stood. "Before you all leave this room, the King and I wish to thank you for all your efforts and loyalty. We are lucky to have such brave, competent men leading our army!"
  
  Jon rose as well. "And do not forget, I will fly along the length of the Wall first. Inform your troops that I want to heart them chant when I fly over them. It will bolster their morale and get their blood pumping and keep them warm. We are alive and we fight for the living!"
  
  To Jon, it seemed as if no time had passed at all when he flew over the united royal army. Never before had so many men been up on the Wall at the same time. The feeble light of the full moon gave the large structure a blue hue. Close to Castle Black the top of the Wall was at its widest and soldiers were standing in formations of twelve rows deep and still had ample space to manoeuver despite the countless baskets with arrows and crates of dragonglass weapons not to mention fire basket every twenty feet. From up here the trebuchets and catapults looked impressive but more effective would be the giant pendulums with their dragonglass spikes. Their swing covered an area of twelve hundred feet which was impressive. The only downside was that it took ages for the giant contraption to swing from one side to the other and once it was on the move, there was no stopping it or making it change direction swiftly to surprise the enemy. Not even Sam had come up with a solution for that.
  
  Jon knew he needed to fly fast to stay safe. The moment the enemy spotted him, he became a target. Dany had fought him for the right to take the first shift, but Jon had put his foot down. He was the best choice, being familiar with the enemy. Before he allowed her to fly out there he wanted to have at least an estimate of how many White Walkers armed with ice spears were down there. He knew they needed her to join the fight, but he would do all he could to make it as safe as possible for her. Any information he brought back would help.
  
  He urged Rhaegal higher. The plan was to fly above the clouds and then, stealthily, forgoing his usual roar, Rhaegal would dive down and breathe his flames without pause for as long as he could. Even if the enemy had seen him fly over the Wall, he wouldn't know where the dragon would strike first. Jon felt the Rhaegal's eagerness but sensed a bit of wariness underneath. He couldn't fault him for it. Jon felt the same.
  
  Their first run was a success. Rhaegal burned almost three miles of the enemy's front line before climbing back above the clouds. Jon had not detected a single White Walker. Nobody had thrown anything at them.
  
  The second time, however, they were ready for them. The moment Rhaegal released his flames, he needed to roll to the left to avoid two ice spears. Three more followed immediately after. Jon scanned the surface as the smoke cleared. Rhaegal smart as he was, flew just high enough to avoid the deadly projectiles without Jon having to ask him.
  
  It took a while for him to spot the first White Walker. Unlike the easily distinguishable dark silhouettes of the wights, these Walkers' icy skin blended in with the snowy landscape and with their grey-wight outfit, they were perfectly disguised. It didn't help that despite being mounted on undead horses, they rode some kind of ice creature with at least six legs. 'Ice spiders," Jon thought as he counted eight legs. If all White Walkers rode these, then one of their strategies was useless already. They had hoped to destroy their undead mounts easily, knowing that it didn't matter where you hit a wight with dragonglass, the tiniest wound destroyed the abominations.
  
  In the pause between their second and third attack, the earth started to rumble and the air grew colder. Jon pulled his collar up and thanked the Gods for the warmth the dragon shared with him. Looking down he noticed the fog advance toward the Wall at great speed and from his position directly above the clearing he could spot the swarms of wights moving along with it. 'They had gotten faster! Much faster!'
  
  He could hear shouts coming from atop the Wall and knew this was it. The rumbling grew louder and Jon saw the White Walkers advancing on their multi-legged mounts, four on the right flank in close formation, at least as many in the chaos running for the Wall. He couldn't detect any on the left flank. He braced himself as Rhaegal prepared to dive a third time.
  
  Looking down at the forest and the many burning trees, Jon felt Rhaegal's exhaustion. He realised that they needed to abort. It was time for Dany and Viserion to fly out here. Unlike his dragon, Jon felt exhilarated. They had made significant progress already and his dragon had been able to avoid being hit by the ice spears. If Dany stayed alert, she would be all right.
  
  At least five times the catapults had struck a hidden cache of wildfire and set it off, killing many wights in the process with the bonus of illuminating a large part of the battlefield. The commanders used these moments to pick their next target. One White Walker had been killed by a bolt fired by one of the scorpions.
  
  Another had been sent to smithereens by one of Sam's inventions: a large hollow ball made of dragonglass, inside was a small leather pouch containing explosive powder the remaining space was stuffed with as many spearheads as they could fit inside, most of them made of dragonglass and a few Valyrian steel ones. Sam had asked Gendry to leave a narrow opening in the shell, needed to connect the leather pouch with a long fuse. The moment the fuse was lit, they had to activate the catapult without a moment to lose, launching the ball over the Wall, because the very moment that the fire burned through the leather, the inner center of the ball exploded, hurling spearheads in all directions. Only a few men had been trained to launch this weapon them since there was great risk involved.
  
  Jon had wanted to carry a few with him in a rucksack but Sam had advised against it fearing that the volatile projectiles would be too close to the dragon's fire to guarantee their safety. Still, Jon had been able to kill one White Walker by hitting him with a small Valyrian Steel dagger just before Rhaegal aborted his eighth dive and was about to pull up.
  
  Flying back to Castle Black, he saw several piles of the remains of defeated wights piled up against the Wall. The entire area was littered with burning debris and craters. His troops on the Wall had been busy as well. The closer he got the more the carnage became visible. Arrows, bolts, bricks, and partially melted snow blackened by oil and fire had destroyed the beauty of the once majestic landscape. Just before he passed the Wall he saw a pendulum swipe hundreds of wights sideways and drop them on the frozen ground.
  
  However, just as at Hardhome, the cheering stopped and Jon knew that a White Walker must have raised his arms and reanimated all those that hadn't been burned or touched by dragonglass. Bran had been right. The White Walkers had learned from the fight near Hardhome. They now wore breastplate shielding their vulnerable spot and made sure to raise their dead again and again.
  
  Contrary to Rhaegal, who immediately lowered his head and closed his eyes after touching down, Jon was wide awake and bursting with energy. He could only wave at Dany and shout a few brief instructions as she was mounted on Viserion eager for take-off. She was already hovering in the air when he was still telling her where he last saw the remaining White Walkers.
  
  Jon signalled the men to drag the freshly killed parts of several cows a bit closer to the dragon. Ghost ran up to assist them. Jon petted him. "Looked after Dany for me, did you boy?" Ghost just nudged his head against Jon's chest urging him inside. Jon left his hand in Ghost's soft fur as they approached the common hall. There they found Lord Tarly, Commander Pyke and Lord Royce listening to the reports of four squires. At least twenty more were constantly travelling up and down to bring news of the latest developments to the commanders assembled in the common room. For now, they did not need to make adjustments to their strategy. It was all going better than expected.
  
  Jon took a seat, drinking deeply from the cup of ale Renny handed him. Not addressing anyone, in particular, he asked, "Which ones of you are up there now?"
  
  "Prince Rob and Prince Oberyn, Lord Edmure of House Tully, Lord Kevan Lannister and Jaime Lannister." Lord Tarly was quick to respond. "We will replace them at noon." He shook his head. "This battle, it doesn't make much sense. I mean, our plan is working like clockwork. So either the enemy is plain stupid or..."
  
  "- this is just a diversion." Lord Royce finished his sentence.
  
  "Commander Pyke?" Jon asked.
  
  "I agree with them. I sincerely hope that we are winning this easily because we prepared diligently for the better part of a year, but my instincts tell me it might be the latter."
  
  Jon nodded, deep in thought. These men confirmed his doubts. "Are the ravens from the other forts still coming in on schedule?"
  
  Commander Pyke nodded. "Only Eastwatch and Greenguard are late but the message from the Torches made mention of a severe storm. Perhaps the ravens have trouble reaching us."
  
  Jon stiffened and stood. "I'll be right back." He ran to the wing where his cousin was sequestered with the ten surviving Children of the Forest, Ser Lionel and Ser Rayford following at his heels. At the same time he kept listening to the background sounds, knowing that in case Dany needed his assistance, he would be able to hear the horn blast no matter where he was. One short and one long blast would be his cue to run for the dragon and take to the air to help his wife.
  
  He opened the door without knocking, certain that the three-eyed raven already knew he was there. "You know why I've come, surely?" Jon asked without losing time. "Do you have eyes over Eastwatch?"
  
  Bran looked nonplussed at the brusque interruption. "I tried but-was blocked out."
  
  One of the Children made a series of strange sounds. Bran looked at Jon. "I need a drop of your blood."
  
  "Blood magic?" Jon asked. "Are you sure the Old Gods condone..."
  
  Before Jon could finish his sentence, Melisandre burst into the room. Ser Lionel and Ser Rayford behind her looked apologetic but Jon gestured to let her be. "Here you are, my King!" She exclaimed relieved. "A part of the Sea east of the Wall has frozen over! The dead are south of the Wall! Eastwatch is under attack from the south. I saw it all in the flames!"
  
  "Take Icefire and remember House Targaryen's words 'Fire and Blood'. You will find Them at Eastwatch." Bran declared expressionless, his eyes rolled backwards. "Split the Night King from the Other. I'll make sure that all necessary parties reach Eastwatch." Bran's eyes returned to normal. His Tully eyes now stared at Jon. "It all comes down to you now!"
  
  Jon swallowed. "Azor Ahai."
  
  "The Prince that Was Promised must rise to the occasion," Bran affirmed.
  
  Jon shook his head at his young cousin, reminding him to mind his words. He wasn't sure whether the Red Priests were shielding their conversation. "Ser Lionel, you will escort me to my dragon. Monty, run and fetch IceFire. Quickly boy! Ser Rayford?"
  
  "My King?"
  
  "Inform everyone that Ser Gerold is in charge. I will need Ser Arthur at Eastwatch as soon as possible. Send a raven to Long Barrow. Mag the Mighty is there. We will need him at Eastwatch as well. Bran and a few of his companions, perhaps one or two Red priests if you can spare them here, send them all on their way!"
  
  Jon looked at Bran. "Ghost?" Bran nodded. Jon checked the room for a sign of his wolf. "He is probably already on his way. I'll check before I take off." Jon paused to take a deep breath and calm his mind. His gaze met Bran's all-knowing eyes. "Ser Rayford?"
  
  "My King?" No matter how little his Kingsguard understood about what was happening, Jon knew the man would carry out whatever order his King gave him.
  
  "Tell Ser Gerold that although he is in charge, Bran of House Stark speaks for me. Any action he believes necessary must not be second-guessed. Anyone or anything he wishes to send to Eastwatch, Ser Gerold will have to make it happen, even if doing so messes with previously made plans and strategies! This is a very important task I am entrusting you with. The fate of the living hangs in the balance! And make sure he sends a large number of soldiers with my cousin. Much depends on him reaching Eastwatch timely and in one piece."
  
  "There is no time to lose, your Grace. Darkness envelops Eastwatch. I saw it in the flames." Melisandre interrupted them anxiously.
  
  "Your Grace," Ser Rayford asked nervously. "Her Grace?"
  
  Jon looked at Bran for confirmation but his cousin kept his silence. Jon swallowed thickly. "Ser Rayford, tell the Queen that I love her to the moon and back. Don't be surprised if she knows I have left already when you see her next. Her dragon will probably have let her know that his sibling is leaving with me by then. Sandor and Prince Oberyn will help you guard her-when she is not on her dragon, that is." He threw one last look across the room, his gaze resting on his cousin. Since Bran remained silent, Jon turned on his heels and left for the landing spot, Ser Lionel at his heels.
  
  "Your Grace?" Ser Lionel asked as they stood near the landing spot waiting for Monty to bring IceFire.
  
  "I'm needed at Eastwatch, Ser Lionel. The Queen and our armies here will have to carry on without me. Tell Ser Gerold that the sooner the enemy is crippled here, the more chance I have to succeed at Eastwatch. And Ser Oswell, I trust my Kingsguard to look after the Queen. Make sure that she takes enough rest and eats regularly. I entrust you with her wellbeing."
  
  "We will all do everything we can to protect her, your Grace." his Kingsguard promised solemnly.
  
  "Don't let her fly to Eastwatch unless the enemy is thoroughly defeated and keep sending ravens. I, in turn, will send a raven every morning without fail."
  
  "Your sword, your Grace." Monty held up IceFire in its scabbard.
  
  Jon attached the sword to his belt, next to Blackfyre. Rhaegal lifted his head when Jon approached. 'Sorry son,' Jon communicated silently touching the dragon's mind. 'No more time to rest I am afraid. Have you seen Ghost?' Rhaegal's snort was the only response he got. Jon quickly closed his eyes searching for his direwolf. Ghost was indeed on his way, creating havoc amongst the soldiers as he cut through the eastern camp instead of taking the long way around it. Jon took one look at the Wall knowing Dany was somewhere on the other side but there was no time to say goodbye. Soon he was soaring above the clouds, Castle Black no longer visible. He wondered what he would find at Eastwatch and prayed he would not be too late. At least twenty thousand men were stationed there, including some of his dearest friends!
  
  Interlude 56: The Old Pact
  
  It looked as if the entire population of Oldtown had come out to watch the King and his dragon arrive. Originally Jon had wanted to keep his visit to his friend a secret and have a ship smuggle him in and out again since his only motivation for coming here was to meet with Sam. Lord Varys, Davos and the rest of his small council had been appalled. The King of the Seven Kingdoms could not risk such a thing. If he was discovered they would think he was shunning the dignitaries. The diplomatic repercussions could be disastrous. If Jon needed to meet with Sam, the King of the Seven Kingdoms would have to make an official visit to the Citadel, spend at least one night at Hightower and allow Lord Hightower to hold a banquet and parade the King around as his guest of honour.
  
  Jon sighed and prayed Lord Hightower had kept his promise and had not overloaded his schedule with additional official appearances. If not, the time gained by flying here on Rhaegal would be lost.
  
  Dany was lucky not to have to deal with all this even if she was better at it than him. But she was in the third trimester of her pregnancy and Maester Pylos had asked her to reduce her schedule, rest when she felt herself tiring and take a nap in the afternoon and go to bed early. He smiled when he remembered holding her body against his and feeling their child move between them.
  
  Rhaegal's snort brought him back to the present and he focussed on his environment. They had reached Oldtown. Flying past the high white tower with the giant beacon, Jon spotted the small party that awaited him on top of the green hill west of the small city. Sam had told him that the Citadel would try to exploit this unprecedented dragon visit and had warned his friend to keep Rhaegal away from the Archmaesters. The senior Archmaesters already felt their influence waning now the Targaryens once more reigned over a strong, united Westeros. They would use any means to regain their power.
  
  Jon prayed that the Archmaesters had fallen for the story that Sam had fabricated. Allegedly the royal dragons were calm in their habitat but unknown locations put them on edge. So anyone foolish enough to approach the green dragon in Oldtown without the King there to keep him in check could send Rhaegal in a flight of panic and accidentally burn everything and anyone in his vicinity.
  
  Sam had worked out the perfect plan. A fleet had arrived two days before the King was expected, carrying one hundred guards, part royal guard, part city guard to cordon off the hill where the dragon would remain for the duration of the royal visit. Close to the top of the hill, three knights of his Kingsguard and Thoros of Myr greeted him with an extra mount. At the foot of the hill, four members of the royal guard complete with large dragon banners joined their small party to escort Jon to the city in a manner befitting of a King. Rhaegal roared from atop of the hill on the exact moment that his rider entered the city gates. The big flames he breathed upwards were witnessed by thousands of people. Jon smiled. If the Archmaesters still had doubts, Rhaegal's mummery would erase these easily.
  
  Varys had secured them the ideal meeting spot. A large warehouse used to store goods before they were being shipped off to Essos. The owner, a personal friend of Lord Willas of House Tyrell had agreed to give his guards the night off and trusted the royal guard to keep watch over his wares for one night. Sam, Thoros and Jon were lead to a luxurious room used to impress wealthy clients that still needed to finalize their trade deal. Since it was not that cold in Oldtown, only a small fire had been lit and the three men sat before it. Jon sat back as he drank from the sweetened water that was so popular here. Varys had come through yet again. This was an ideal location to hold a super-secret, long-overdue meeting. It was high time they exchanged their respective findings and devised a strategy that would give the living a fighting chance.
  
  Jon carefully removed the cloth revealing the magic candle. Thoros and Sam held their breath when their King concentrated and the candle lit up. Sam fidgeted in his seat as it started to grow dark outside and Jon had yet to establish contact with Bran.
  
  "Maybe it doesn't work with us in the room," he whispered to his friend.
  
  "He might be asleep or in the middle of a vision," Jon replied and relaxed. The light of the candle slowly dimmed. "We can start without Bran for now. Sam, can you explain to us what you found that was so important that my visit could no longer be delayed?"
  
  Sam sat up straighter. "Well you are all aware, eight thousand years ago the Night King and the Others were soundly defeated when all living beings combined their forces. Still, they could not destroy their leader, and sort of ' hibernated ' him. Only we do not exactly know how they did it and, well, uh, I had hoped that Bran, uh, well I did some research of course." Sam took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
  
  "I found three separate texts making mention of a Pact: one in the Old Tongue, one in an archaic version of the Common Tongue and one in a language that vaguely resembles High Valyrian. The scroll written in the Old Tongue almost disintegrated when I unfolded it. A few small parts were still legible. I am not sure whether I translated them correctly since some of it deviates somewhat from what I believe the two other scrolls contain. I had hoped that Bran's, uh new uh allies would be able to help us."
  
  Jon looked at Thoros who was staring at the fireplace. "Thoros, are you able to cast a shadow over our discussion? Make sure that it is shielded from the Night King's visions?"
  
  Thoros kept his gaze fixed on the flames. "As long as you are not using the candles, I believe I can. R'hllor will understand the importance of this meeting and lend me his power. Those candles, however, use different magic as the one I need to conjure up. To keep explanations simple, let's just say that they cancel each other out." Without further ado, the Red Priest took a different pose and quietly started chanting. As soon as the colour of the flames deepened and the fire doubled in size, Thoros stopped his chant. "The flames will alert us when the magic wears off."
  
  "So, Sam, you were you hoping that the Children of the Forest would be able to help," Jon resumed their earlier conversation.
  
  "Yes! You see, Jon, they were present when this Pact was negotiated!" Sam's eyes shone with excitement.
  
  "How can we be sure that they passed the knowledge on for thousands of years? Representatives of the First Men were present as well and their descendants are clueless," Jon asked his friend.
  
  "No, you misunderstand me, Jon! I did not mean that their ancestors were there. These Children of the Forest that survived beyond the Wall, they might be the same ones that witnessed the Pact! Do you understand?! The Children are immortal unless they get themselves killed! I found this book on the subject," Sam paused to take a breath.
  
  Jon frowned. "Are you sure? Is that even possible? Are you claiming that eight thousand-year-old creatures are currently hosting my little cousin?"
  
  Sam nodded emphatically. "Exactly! And what's more, they are teaching him all that they know! Can you imagine that?! I wish I could speak to them! We need to contact Bran, Jon! We simply have to hear from him what he learned about this Pact. More specifically I need to know whom and what we need to summon to reinstitute this Pact that succeeded in bringing a balance between darkness and light for eight thousand years!"
  
  "Whom and what?" Jon asked wide-eyed while Thoros kept his silence, his eyes fixed on the fire.
  
  "Well, yes," Sam looked nervous but at the same time was eager to explain. "As far as I could decipher, we need a member of each race: Giants, Children of the Forest, the First men. Perhaps now an Andal too, I don't know, they were of no consequence back then. Magic creatures and all religions need to be represented as well. I'm thinking direwolves and dragons, also a Red Priest, a Priest of the Drowned God, a Septon of course. You might need a Maester there as well. The texts are a bit ambiguous. Oh, and someone to represent the Old Gods, you have no priest so perhaps a Stark can represent both the First Men and the old faith."
  
  Sam swallowed. "That leaves us with the what : you need earth, wind, fire, water, salt, bronze and iron. I don't know about gold, silver, steel or Valyrian Steel. The text doesn't mention that and I have been scouring the books to find the earliest mentions of gold and silver but have not yet found any going further than a thousand years back. The library of the Citadel is a mess, to be frank. I have such trouble locating what I need."
  
  "The royal edict you sent them, the one ordering the Citadel to assist with the war effort, more specifically obliging each Maester and acolyte alike to dedicate at the very least one day each sennight to the search for books or scrolls that mention the long night and all related prophecies, helped a lot. Of course, it helped that the Archmaesters could no longer ignore the threat at the Wall once every noble House in the Seven Kingdoms acknowledged its existence and openly supported your Great War in one way or another. Numerous texts were discovered and helped us somewhat, but without Bran's vision, I would never have unearthed these three ancient scrolls. They were caved in, you see. I managed to keep them from the Archmaesters."
  
  "Sam, breathe!" Jon interrupted his friend. "As far as I can tell, all the items and persons that you listed just now, we can easily bring together. But before we explore that further, explain to me please, why exactly do I need to negotiate with the Night King? Why can't we keep looking for a means to annihilate him once and for all?"
  
  Sam gaped at him not having an answer prepared for that question.
  
  "My King!" Thoros gestured at the fireplace where the flames had returned to their normal size.
  
  "Try the candle, Jon. This might be Bran's doing!" Sam pointed emphatically at the candle in Jon's lap.
  
  Jon took the precious object between both hands and reached out to it with his mind. He almost dropped it as images flooded him accompanied by a voice. The lifeless voice of the three-eyed raven speaking through his young cousin started answering the question Jon had posed Sam just then. 'You can't annihilate the Night King. If he dies by your hand, or as an indirect result of the war that you are leading, you die as well. Your fates are linked. So similarly, if you are killed by him or one of his servants, he perishes also. Moreover, if you die by accident, illness or fall victim to a political assassination attempt before you can face him, all will be lost.'
  
  Jon kept listening as the three-eyed raven shared the knowledge the Children of the Forest still had of the Old Pact and explained how to communicate with the Night King since the creature did not speak. Jon also learned why the Old Pact had weakened. First, the Children of the Forest had almost become extinct. Still, they had helped this cause a great deal when some 800 years ago, the few remaining Children, living in a sanctuary beyond the Wall protected by the Old Gods, had found the horn of Joramun and destroyed it.
  
  The Pact had further weakened when Westeros started worshipping different Gods and changed entirely after the Targaryens had conquered it. Too much blood had been spilt and the Darkness had harnessed what it could, waiting patiently until the spell incapacitating the Night King's corporeal form wore off as the knowledge got lost. Jon listened to the long monologue even though his head started pounding. Right before the candle ceased burning, he recognised a trace of Bran's childlike voice repeating some of the advice he had given Jon before. 'Open your mind, cousin. Do not ignore the powers your birth granted you. Do not forget to open your mind to both sides.'
  
  Despite the splitting headache that the lengthy long-distance conversation had caused him, Jon, Sam and Thoros debated until deep into the night, safe from hostile ears since Thoros had once again invoked the protection of the Lord of Light.
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Only two more chapters left! Chapter 57 will be posted next week.
  
  previous chapternext chapterchapter list
  Communication is key
  Chapter 57: Communication is key
  
  Summary:
  
  At Eastwatch, Jon confronts the Night King
  
  Notes:
  
  The interlude picks up where chapter 56 ended.
  
  Enjoy!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Despite the short time his dragon had been able to recuperate, Rhaegal, sensing his rider's anxiety, flew east at breakneck speed. The entire time, Jon pictured the enemy wiping out his troops, perhaps even swarming over the temporary Free Folk settlements and heading for Last Hearth. Once there, nothing would stop the Night King from invading the rest of the North and then... Jon forced himself to end this train of thought. He couldn't do anything to help until he arrived and even then, it wouldn't help matters if he arrived in a state of panic. Instead, he decided to study the landscape below. Sooner than expected, he recognised the shorelines of the Shivering Sea in the distance. Urging Rhaegal to make a steep dive, he braced himself for the carnage they might find on the ground.
  
  His heart was hammering in his throat as he frantically searched for the outline of the fort. He blinked a few times but still, he couldn't discern much. At first, he presumed that the cold was affecting his eyes. Soon, it became clear that a thick fog was blocking the mainland from his view. Focussing his hearing, he failed to detect any sounds akin to fighting. Circling ever lower, Rhaegal released a small flame to provide a bit of light so his rider could at least locate the fort.
  
  The first thing Jon heard was the single blast of a horn, confirmation that they had been spotted and that at least someone was still alive down there. Soon after, Jon could make out a few human shapes. As Rhaegal was searching for a spot to land, both dragon and rider spotted an entire regiment performing drills as if nothing was out of the ordinary, not a single sign of panic, no evidence that the enemy had gotten past the Wall.
  
  Jon cursed under his breath. He had left Castle Black without saying goodbye to Dany, scared shitless that any delay could mean the death of thousands more. Harrowing images of the twenty thousand soldiers assigned to Eastwatch marching as mindless corpses with unnatural blue eyes doing the Night King's bidding had driven him to leave the love of his life behind as if she meant nothing to him. Bran's vision of her fighting the dead at Castle Black mounted on Viserion without his support had become a reality much sooner than they had thought possible.
  
  He prayed fervently that Melisandre had not mistaken the westernmost point of the Wall with the eastern shores. If that was the case, then he was too far away to save the North for being overrun. Concentrating on taking deep even breaths, he shook off these thoughts and asked Rhaegal to land as close to the main entrance of the fort as possible.
  
  Ser Loras and Commander Belmore were the first ones he encountered on his way to the gate. The commander greeted him eagerly. "You are very welcome, my King, even if we didn't know to expect you! Has the battle at Castle Black already been decided in our favour? Will the other dragon fly here to assist us as well?"
  
  Jon ignoring Belmore's questions fired off his own instead. "Are you not under attack then, Commander? Or did you drive the enemy back behind the Wall again? Did anybody get killed or hurt?"
  
  "Why would you think that? We sent no such report, your Grace." Commander Belmore looked genuinely surprised.
  
  Jon, however, needed him to be more precise. "Does that mean that the dead did not manage to get past the Wall? Do you have eyes on the shoreline? Has a part of the Sea adjacent to the Wall not frozen over?"
  
  "Frozen over?" The Commander frowned at the King's anxious tone. "While is true that two ships are currently stuck in the ice, that is not so unusual in these temperatures." He paused for a moment considering the new situation. "Perhaps your dragon can help us in the morning. We have been trying to break the ships free from to ice to no avail."
  
  "Where the Wall meets the sea, do you have eyes there? Can you confirm that there is no possibility to circumvent the Wall by travelling on foot over newly formed ice patches?" Jon insisted.
  
  "Of course we have eyes there, your Grace! We followed all the instructions you sent to the letter! Even if some of them were a bit farfetched. What you are implying is highly unlikely. You see, the Sea is particularly rough out there. It is not unusual to see ten-foot waves breaking against the edge of the Wall," Commander Belmore elaborated somewhat offended.
  
  Jon disregarding Belmore's tone was still not entirely reassured. "Nevertheless, double the men at the easternmost outlook posts and order them to remain exceptionally vigilant." His commanding tone left no room for discussion.
  
  "Is that why you are here, my King? Do you have reason to believe that an attack is imminent?" Ser Loras asked respectfully.
  
  "Seven Hells! Don't let me have come all this way for nothing!" Jon muttered under his breath and pulled himself together when Loras frowned in consternation. "We had reason to believe so. Now I am not so sure anymore," he explained a bit calmer.
  
  Jon let his eyes roam over the men that had poured out of the gate during their short exchange. They respectfully kept their distance, knowing that the King would come their way after he had finished greeting Commander Belmore. Jon recognised several of these men but had yet to detect Uncle Benjen or any of his friends. He was looking for one man he wished to consult before any others. "Isn't Thoros of Myr stationed at Eastwatch?" Jon asked his Kingsguard when he failed to locate the Red Priest among the small crowd of onlookers.
  
  Commander Belmore cleared his throat. "Thoros of Myr had the early morning shift and is resting, your Grace."
  
  "Perhaps the High Priestess Kinvara may be of assistance if you wish to consult a representative of the Lord of Light, my King," Loras suggested quietly, instantly understanding why his King needed to talk to the Red Priest.
  
  "Kinvara, the High Priestess? She is here? Then I'd like to meet her as soon as can be arranged!" Jon answered eagerly and felt revived now he had a clear course of action. He looked sideways at Commander Belmore. "I trust you can free a small room that has a fireplace for me? Also, my direwolf is on his way here. Ghost is a giant wolf with thick white fur and red eyes. I expect him to arrive in a few days. He is not to be harmed. He will come find me no matter where I am. Inform your men that the wolf won't attack any of them, as long as he is allowed to roam freely."
  
  The Commander pursed his lips, offended that the King seemed to be questioning his competence yet again. "There is a room set aside for you at all times, your Grace. And all forts have received orders to not to h..."
  
  His attention already focussed on the questions he was eager to ask the High Priestess, Jon didn't listen to the rest of the Commander's answer. He silently thanked Rhaegal for bringing him here in all haste and advised his dragon to find a quiet spot and get some much-needed rest. Before he closed the connection, he promised Rhaegal to keep him informed of his plans. After sharing one last look with the dragon to reassure him that all would be well, Jon walked in big strides to the entrance of the fort, curtly nodding his head at the small crowd.
  
  He longed to have a moment to himself, away from all these curious eyes to come to terms with the conflicting emotions warring within him. His relief at finding everyone still very much alive was dimmed by the resentment that he felt towards Melisandre for sending him here on a fool's errand. But he was also reproaching himself for not thinking things through first and acting so rashly. Bran had more than once explained to him that it was not that easy to determine whether visions took place in the past, the present or the future. But then Bran had not offered any advice except for reminding Jon who was needed to reinstate the Pact. Jon still remembered his cousin's silent stare when he looked at him for advice before deciding to fly to Eastwatch.
  
  Imagining Dany breaking off her shift and returning to Castle Black with an exhausted Viserion only to find him gone without saying goodbye, had him curse himself once more. 'She will be worried sick!' Behind him, Commander Belmore was struggling to keep up with Jon's big strides. Jon, not easing his pace, issued another order. "I need to inform Castle Black of my arrival and the situation here. Ser Loras, have someone fetch the Maester. I'll have a message ready for him by the time he reaches my quarters."
  
  "Then I will go find the High Priestess and ask her to meet you, your Grace," Belmore said as he guided Jon to the guest-chamber that had been set aside for him.
  
  Not much later, the raven to Castle Black well underway, Jon sat in a chair near the fire, his anger and frustrating sufficiently in check to explain to Ser Oswell, Ser Patreck and Ser Loras the reason for his unannounced arrival.
  
  "I trust you are not thinking of returning to Castle Black tonight, my King. Soon it will be pitch-black out there." Ser Oswell counselled.
  
  "I'm not suicidal, Ser Oswell, and Rhaegal needs his rest. I might stay even longer. I will decide after I have spoken to the High Priestess. You may let her in and then please, allow us some privacy."
  
  "We will be right outside. Call us if you need anything, my King." Ser Oswell declared solemnly.
  
  A ghost of a smile crossed Jon's face as he looked at the knight who had practically raised him. He had been relieved to find him still alive and well. "Thank you, Ser Oswell. I believe Uncle Benjen and Tormund are both stationed here. Can you check whether they can spare a moment? I'd like to share a meal with them after I've spoken with the High Priestess."
  
  "Lord Howland of House Reed and Ser Brynden of House Tully might want an opportunity to greet you as well." Ser Oswell suggested.
  
  "Edric and Gendry might not forgive you if you left again without seeing them," Loras gave Jon a pointed look.
  
  "I knew that Edric was stationed here but thought that Gendry was still visiting the other forts to inspect their weaponry. Well then," Jon's eyes lit up for the first time since arriving at Eastwatch, "I sincerely hope you have enough squires at your disposal to locate them all. If I decide to stay, I will want a word with Commander Snow of the Company of the Roses and Lord Umber as well."
  
  Jon had his eyes closed and was searching for Ghost when a tall woman with long dark hair, wearing an elegant dress the same colour as her hair, entered the room. Jon broke the tentative connection to his direwolf, straightened his pose and took in her exotic appearance. He wondered how in the Seven Hells Kinvara was not shivering, wearing neither shawl nor coat over her revealing dress. Jon was still wearing his armour over a thick leather doublet.
  
  The woman made a deep bow. "I am High Priestess Kinvara, First Servant of the Lord of Light, at your service, your Grace. I am honoured to finally meet you in person. I have been expecting you."
  
  Jon made quick work of the necessary courtesies before asking, "You were expecting me, you say? Does that mean that you saw my arrival in the flames, High Priestess? Did the Lord of Light also show you visions of an attack that according to Priestess Melisandre was already in progress here?"
  
  "The Lord of Light shares His Wisdom with me as He sees fit. I saw your arrival nothing more," Kinvara answered in a dignified manner. "I apologize most humbly for the shortcomings of our servant, Melisandre. It is not the first time that she fails to interpret the images that Our Almighty Lord deigns to show to her. Melisandre is not the most powerful servant of our Red God but she serves Him most devotedly."
  
  "So in your wisdom, should I expect the attack to happen in the immediate future? Can you help me with this at all or should I just return to Castle Black where the dead are continuing their siege as we speak?" Jon asked, his ire rising again.
  
  "I can sense the Darkness, Azor Ahai. That means that the Great Other is close. He most certainly is not at Castle Black! You are exactly where you are destined to be. You are the Prince Who Was Promised, the Champion of the Light! I counsel you to stay!" Kinvara took a step towards the door. "With your leave, I will consult the flames again and let you know whether the Lord of Light deems me worthy enough to share more of His Wisdom with me. Your Grace," she bowed reverently before leaving the room.
  
  A young squire entered with a steaming bowl and a pint of ale. "Compliments of Commander Belmore, your King, uh, my Grace. P-P-Prince Benjen of House Stark and some uh, others are at the door. Shall I tell them to let your Grace eat first?"
  
  Ser Oswell stood in the door opening behind the boy and exchanged an amused glance with his King. "I will send in the visitors at King Aegon's convenience, young Flint. You are dismissed for now."
  
  The boy blushed but made an impeccable bow. "I'll stay in the vicinity, my K-k, uh your Grace. Commander Belmore said I was to be the King's squire for as long as he remains at Eastwatch. You will stay here, won't you, King Aegon?" The boy, clearly overwhelmed, stared at Jon with hero worship.
  
  "It certainly looks like it," Jon repressed a smile as Ser Oswell ushered the youth out of the door.
  
  "I took the liberty of delaying the visit of Lord Baratheon, Lord Reed, Ser Brynden and Ser Edric Dayne for a short while. They are keeping each other company in the common room. Just give me a sign when you want me to summon them." Ser Oswell said before leaving the room and sending two men in.
  
  "Jon!" his uncle burst into the room, Tormund at his heels. "Is it true that you left your wife in all haste to save my princely arse?" Jon barely had time to set his bowl aside and rise to his feet before his uncle pulled him into a tight hug. "Glad to see you are still in one piece, Nephew!"
  
  "I can return the sentiment, Uncle. I was worried you were under attack without the support of dragonfire. It appears that I was misinformed." Jon held on to his uncle sending a silent prayer whatever deity that was listening expressing his gratitude for the fact that his dear uncle was still alive.
  
  His uncle didn't seem to mind and answered jovially, "I will want to hear all about that later, but tell me first, are things going as smoothly as that last raven indicated or are these reports censured?"
  
  "Allow me to greet Tormund first, he is being uncommonly patient." Jon also adopted a light tone of voice. The reunion with Uncle Benjen had lifted his spirits considerably.
  
  "Not enough dead fucks to burn at Castle Black or were you bored sick not having me around to entertain you, Dragonrider? And did you lose that fierce little Dragon Queen of yours on the way over here?" Tormund embraced him, smothering him within an inch of his life.
  
  'Umph, release me, you big giant! My Queen is most probably still burning wights at Castle Black as we speak. The siege was in full swing when I left, but we were doing well. Our strategies are proving very efficient. It will just take time. There are so many of them!" Jon explained once he could breathe again.
  
  "Father of a firstborn, and a boy at the first try! Have you taken him for a dragon ride yet?" An army of the dead almost on his proverbial doorstep had not dimmed Tormund's boisterous spirit in the slightest.
  
  Jon shook his head and opened his mouth to add something but Tormund was not done sharing what was on his mind. "I am so looking forward to seeing that dragon of yours in action again! But first, we need to locate these dead fucks! This damned fog is a curse! Even more frustrating is that we no longer have a passageway to the other side. Those damned Crows filled all the tunnels with ice and even I am not enough of a fool to climb the Wall in these conditions! Days are too short now anyway. But I am tired of waiting and want to go out there and find me some fuckers to strike with my new axe! These days, when I am not torturing, uh, I mean, training your green recruits, teach them how to act when the dead cunts finally show their ugly faces, I am bored as fuck!"
  
  Jon merely smiled at that and addressed his uncle. "And how are you holding up, Uncle?"
  
  Jon did not sleep well and rose early. His first full day at Eastwatch was spent inspecting the fort's defenses and memorising where the hidden traps and trenches were located. Uncle Benjen and Howland Reed joined him and their company greatly benefited the young King. By now, Jon had relaxed enough to assess the situation with a clear head. Combining the updates from the outlook posts with Kinvara's and Thoros' advice and adding his own observations, had made him accept that he needed to remain at Eastwatch for now. That evening, he spent most of his time enjoying the company of Edric and Gendry before retiring early as his uncle had counselled.
  
  That way he had gotten in enough hours of sleep when three horn blasts woke him up shortly before dusk. Jon dressed in a hurry and ran toward the main gate calling for Rhaegal. He stopped when his path crossed with two squires who had just come down from the battlements on top of the Wall. He followed them to Belmore's command center that had been set up in a private dining area and got a brief summary of the situation.
  
  Thousands of wights and at least two White Walkers had gotten past the Wall. The first wave was approaching the wooden palisades that surrounded the fort and soon would be close enough to attempt to climb them. Jon ordered Commander Belmore to send some men to the westernmost outlook post to investigate why the men stationed there had not raised the alarm before the enemy had gotten past the Wall.
  
  He allowed his Kingsguard to help in his armour, while breaking his fast and contacting his dragon. He asked Rhaegal to meet him in front of the main gate. Just as he was about to exit the fort, Commander Belmore came running up with dire news.
  
  "The soldiers on watch at the easternmost outlook post were frozen to death before either of them could sound the alarm. A senior ranger of the Night's Watch still held the horn inches away from his lips." Belmore sighed. We are fortunate that the two ships that his Grace and his dragon helped break free from the ice a few days ago decided to set sail for Skagos and are safe."
  
  "I need to get to my dragon! See that all the men you are sending out to confront the enemy are warmly dressed, have torches and fire baskets nearby and keep moving their limbs. We have reason to believe that the Night King is here and he can make temperatures drop significantly." Jon addressed his uncle who had joined them. "Uncle Benjen, before you return to your men on the Wall, find Mag the Mighty and ask him to keep his eyes trained on me. I will let him know where the White Walkers are located. He, in turn, can signal all of you so you can target them with the scorpions. The White Walkers remain our main target!"
  
  Jon had made sure his uncle and Howland Reed had been given command of the troops manning the Wall. It would be safer up there than amongst the ground troops tasked with defending the palisades surrounding the fort. Twice now he had flown North to rescue his uncle, imagining the worst. It was not an experience he wished to live through a third time. As for his two friends who were also the youngest commanders in his army, Jon had chosen not to interfere. He had meddled too much already and neither Commander Belmore nor his friends would thank him for limiting their responsibilities. So both Gendry and Edric were leading a regiment of ground troops. If only Ghost had arrived already. He could have asked his direwolf to keep an eye out for his friends.
  
  Jon took a deep breath. Edric was a very skilled fighter and Gendry, what he still lacked in technique, his muscular friend made up for with sheer determination and fearsomeness. Jon had witnessed a part of his training yesterday and had been amazed at the progress Gendry had made. Both his friends would be great assets out there and the soldiers following them had been properly trained. At times Jon itched to be out there with them, but he was needed in the air.
  
  His uncle touched his shoulder, to get him to focus on the present. "You can count on me, Jon. I'll find the Giant and relay your order. Rest assured, Nephew. We all know the strategy by heart. Kill the Walkers mounts with dragonglass and make sure to save the bolts with the special steel arrowheads for the Walkers themselves and the occasional ice spider."
  
  Jon nodded, praying he would see his uncle unharmed and well later that day. He ran for his dragon, his mind already picturing Rhaegal burning as many wights as possible. Things escalated quickly after that.
  
  That morning dawn did not break when it should and it became inhumanly cold. Jon figured that it was well past noon before the first rays of daylight shone their feeble light on the battlefield. By that time, at least ten thousand wights had gotten past the eastern edge of the Wall and another group was attempting to scale the northern side of the Wall. Jon had spotted them scampering on top of their comrades in an attempt to climb to the top of the Wall and force the living to fight on both fronts. Jon had never seen anything quite like that before.
  
  Climbing the Wall, even with adequate tools at your disposal, remained a very dangerous, a very difficult thing to do. Only a small group made up of the strongest, bravest men and women of the Free Folk claimed to have reached the top at least once and Jon believed them. Still, for mindless decayed corpses to succeed seemed nigh on impossible. Jon high up on Rhaegal had looked on in astonishment as dead giants and large animals used their bodies and limbs to make up the lower echelons of a makeshift ladder, ice spiders doing the same higher up, helping the smaller, lighter wights to get more than halfway before they needed to try and scale the rest of the way on their own.
  
  With the battle raging on two sides of the Wall, all units of the royal united forces stationed at Eastwatch had tasted battle at some point before long. Jon figured these men would no longer complain about being sent to the dreary North by the Crown on a fool's errand.
  
  Two nights later, the battle was still raging. Similar to how it had happened at Castle Black, the living were slowly but surely annihilating the enemy's forces but they suffered more losses here at Eastwatch since a big part of the battle took place south of the Wall. Jon slid off Rhaegal's back and quickly made his way to the common hall only stopping when he stood before the big fireplace. Each day had been shorter and colder than the previous one.
  
  Belmore silently handed him a bowl of hot broth. They had been working closely together these last few days and were now on more cordial terms, each respecting the other's organisational and leadership skills. As Jon took his first sip, Belmore brought him up to speed. "Things are going well. They keep coming at us but we are well-prepared. The traps, the trebuchets and the scorpions are making a dent even if they are not nearly as effective as the dragonfire, your Grace. It is a pity that you can't target the wights once they reached our wooden palisades. Keep watching out for those ice spears though. That last one had us all holding our breaths. Fortunately, your dragon swirled out of the way in the nick of time in a most impressive manner."
  
  "That's mainly my dragon's accomplishment," Jon gave Belmore a wan smile. "Did you receive a response from Last Hearth?" Jon asked a bit later having finished his bowl.
  
  "I did, your Grace. They are barricaded in. The wights that attacked them were in all probability resurrected bodies buried there. Young Umber writes that their attackers were nothing more than skeletons wielding weapons. Despite the dragonglass daggers flying straight through them at times, the dead still dropped like flies. They have suffered no casualties, only a few men suffered minor injuries. The young lord expressed his gratitude for the timely warning. Not a single White Walker was spotted but they will remain vigilant as ordered. The other northern strongholds all replied that everything remains quiet."
  
  Jon nodded absently, his mind wandering to the siege taking place in the west. "Any word from Castle Black?"
  
  "We received the last update shortly after you had taken off, your Grace. Commander Pyke is hopeful that the united royal forces will finish off the remainder of the army of the dead today. His report mentions ten additional fatalities, all soldiers who fell to their death when an ice spear destroyed their outlook post. Same as here at Eastwatch, every day the healers treat men showing the first signs of frostbite, some of them risk losing one or more fingers or toes."
  
  Despite that last detail, most of the report reassured Jon. At least at Castle Black, the number of fatalities remained low. Here at Eastwatch, the death toll was higher already. Not only because the fighting had started before Jon and Rhaegal could take to the skies but also because the main battle was being fought at ground level, and his armies were engaging the enemy head-on.
  
  The regiment defending the eastern palisades had been tested first as part of the wooden structure had been breached. Rhaegal had not been able to release his flames on them without burning their troops in the process. Fortunately, the daily drills had paid off and Jon watched from above as the soldiers formed orderly lines and raised their shields creating a disciplined shield wall. Then as one, these men fell back step by step holding formation, only to increase their speed when they leapt over one of the defensive trenches and pulled up the hidden barricades, setting them aflame. His armies had spent the previous moons hiding several similar defenses at strategic locations.
  
  From that point onwards, the unified royal army had been able to stop the enemy from gaining ground and slowly but surely drove them back and repaired the palisade. Jon and Rhaegal could leave them to it and instead flew east to focus on the steady stream of wights that were still circling the eastern edge of the Wall. His dragon burned many but couldn't prevent large groups from getting past the Wall.
  
  Whatever they tried met with limited success. The holes that Rhaegal's flames burned into the ice almost instantly froze over again. Any drowned wights were resurrected and crawled back on the ice. To make matters worse, on this third day of fighting, more and more ice spiders made up the ranks of the enemy's reinforcements. The wights mostly flocked to the White Walkers.
  
  It had quickly become clear that each White Walker emitted a large cold field. That way, many wights were sheltered from Rhaegal's fire and safely reached the rest of their fellow wights to help attack the palisades from all sides. Only a few White Walkers remained with them and joined the battle, the others travelled back and forth fetching more wights and spiders from beyond the Wall. Today, Jon had only managed to eliminate one White Walker with an explosive device. Fortunately, the archers on the Wall manning the scorpions had been more successful.
  
  The following morning, if you could call it that since it still remained pitch black outside, Jon was breaking his fast in the main hall, and kept his mind distracted with counting the white stripes on the stone wall. The young stewards tasked with serving the food were also responsible for turning the large hourglass each time the sand had passed from the upper bulb to the lower. After turning the timing device upside down they made a large mark on the stone wall behind them. According to the number of marks, the sun should have been up for some time already. Normally Jon would have joined the battle already, but Rhaegal needed the extra rest. They had been out there yesterday for most of the day and more than half of the night. He wondered if Dany had felt as conflicted as he did now. On the one hand, they could sense their dragon's exhaustion and limitations through their bond, on the other hand, they were well aware that each time they withdrew the dragons from the battlefield for a certain length of time, the enemy took advantage. The royal armies had a much harder time standing their ground and the number of casualties would increase.
  
  He was about to reach for a second bannock when he spotted the large silhouette of his friend in the doorway. Gendry entered the room with Ghost and Nymeria at his heels. Jon returning Ghost's enthusiastic greeting frowned as he looked between Gendry and Arya's direwolf.
  
  "I found both of them at the gates. Nymeria wanted to leave neither Ghost nor me. And since Ghost was on a mission, the three of us came in search of you," Gendry explained sheepishly.
  
  Jon kept running both hands through his direwolf's pelt, allowing Ghost to nuzzle him. "Good morning, Gendry. I apologize for giving Ghost precedence over you. I hope you understand. You, I saw you just last night, Ghost on the other hand... I'm so glad he made it here one piece." Nymeria nudged Jon's leg, wanting to be acknowledged by him as well. Jon now sandwiched between the two direwolves did his best to placate them both.
  
  After receiving the greeting she was due, Nymeria leisurely strolled back to Gendry and lay down at his feet. Gendry rewarded her loyalty by moving his hand through her furs. "I more than understand, Jon. I already shared an exuberant greeting with Nymeria and Ghost earlier. You know how fond I have become of these two."
  
  "Ghost here tells me that Arya sent Nymeria here to protect you, but I am sure you expected as much," Jon informed his friend as he studied Gendry's interactions with his cousin's grey direwolf.
  
  Gendry blushed. "I didn't. I thought Nymeria came here to protect Arya's favourite cousin. But if that is Nymeria's intention, you will not hear me complain," Gendry prompted, as he grabbed a bannock.
  
  "Just be careful of what you say or do around her direwolf. Arya is learning to warg and may at times share Nymeria's mind. For all we know, she is listening in on this conversation," Jon added with a teasing smile. He chuckled when Gendry startled. "Relax and break your fast with me. If we are lucky, Edric will join us before I have to head out again. I heard he had a rough night. His regiment was in the thick of it. Please be careful out there today. Make sure that you have enough weapons on your person at all times. There is no guarantee that our encampment is entirely wight-free."
  
  "Is it true that you have guards overseeing the healers at the sick ward, Jon?" Gendry asked hesitatingly after he had swallowed down a piece of bannock."
  
  Jon heard what his friend was not saying and clarified. "The soldiers are not there to supervise the healers, only to restrain and remove the poor souls who didn't make it. We keep the lifeless bodies in chains until we can hold a short burial ceremony and burn them on a funeral pyre." It may sound barbaric, but if we do not take such precautions, the Others can raise our dead and have them kill us in our sleep or make them open the gates to ambush us."
  
  That night
  
  Offering Rhaegal a small break, Jon was standing high up on the Wall observing proceedings. He could sense Rhaegal's reluctance to fly out there again. The reinforced eastern barricades were holding for now and Jon was inclined to oblige his dragon for a little longer. As things stood, it would do not harm to save Rhaegal's energy for when it was most needed. He, on the other hand, itched to join his forces on the frontlines, wishing to fight at their side and put his Valyrian swords to good use. Years of honing his skills with a sword seemed pointless if he only engaged the enemy mounted on his dragon.
  
  He let out an involuntary shiver. Becoming more alert, he realised that the icy winds were picking up and temperatures had dropped even lower than before. Jon huddled closer to Rhaegal's warm body and watched mesmerized as big waves of thick white fog came rolling in from the Shivering Sea. From his elevated position, he saw the ice pelt covering the shoreline expand unnaturally fast. Some of the smaller waves froze instantly and now resembled crooked ice cones. Hundreds of ice spiders quickly crossed the newly formed surface and headed for the eastern palisades.
  
  Jon felt a tingling in the back of his head and scanned the hostile force that was still at a respectable distance. Safely behind rows of spiders and wights, there he was! Jon finally caught the first glimpse of his nemesis, flanked by what looked like a dozen White Walkers, every single one of them mounted on an ice spider. The Night King was easy to spot because he sat atop the tallest spider of them all.
  
  Jon tensed. Their strategy of killing off the White Walkers' mounts had just become much more difficult. Animal wights were easy to kill. You only had to pierce any part with dragonglass or simply burn them to ashes. Ice spiders on the other hand were far more difficult to defeat. As far as Jon knew, fire had no effect of them and the only ones they had defeated had required a team effort. They needed to cut off most of their legs before they could gain access to the creatures' abdomen without getting pierced by one of those legs. Only when the spider's abdomen was punctured with Valyrian steel or a weapon made of dragonglass, did the ice creature deflate and die.
  
  He took a deep breath and mounted Rhaegal. He tried not to worry about the ground troops. His field commanders knew the procedures by heart and would surely order their men to use the arrowheads coated with a tiny layer of Valyrian steel and have their most competent archers aim for the breastplates of the White Walkers. Jon slowly flew over the battlefield and considered his options. It felt as if he was missing something, as if some thought was nagging at the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach it. He scanned the battlefield below him checking the Night King's progress.
  
  Despite the distance still separating them, the Night King looked straight up at him, his eerie blue eyes locking with Jon's dark grey ones. Bran's warning not to allow the Night King in his head was of no use. Jon made a valid attempt but couldn't block the images this powerful creature sent him. They stared at each other for a bit longer before Jon gave the Night King a barely perceptible nod but it did the trick. A thick fog appeared out of nowhere and shielded the now retreating enemy army from sight. Jon quickly ordered the outlook posts to keep track of the fog that was slowly moving northeast. Rhaegal for once landed in a deserted courtyard inside the walls of the fort. The green dragon kept watching until his rider disappeared inside the Castle before flying off again. Jon called out for his Kingsguard and ordered all the squires and stewards he encountered to summon the Commanders to join him for a war council.
  
  On second thought, Jon shouldn't have been surprised to see these familiar faces enter the room. He should have realised that these men would have volunteered to join the party that had been formally ordered to leave Castle Black and travel to Eastwatch. Ser Gerold, Prince Oberyn and Jaime Lannister had been keen to follow their King. Prince Oberyn profusely apologised for leaving Daenerys' side but reassured his King that he had personally seen to it that three of his daughters would obey whatever order Sandor Clegane saw fit to give them. Between them, Ser Lionel and Ser Rayford, the Queen would still have ample protection.
  
  Later that evening, alone in his room, Jon took out his candle and established contact with his young cousin. Prince Stark's little caravan still had a bit more than a day to travel before reaching the gates of Eastwatch. Jon had been warned by Kinvara that he needed to delay the ultimate confrontation until the last of the key players had arrived. Most of the men and items that Bran had dispatched had arrived around the time he caught his first glimpse of the Night King, but the party escorting Prince Bran was travelling a bit slower and would need more time to arrive. He was bringing a few of the Children of the Forest as well as the Red Priestess Melisandre who had her role to play. Bran told his royal cousin not to worry. Ser Gerold had handpicked a group of competent northerners familiar with the terrain and the cold temperatures to act as Prince Stark's escort and protection detail.
  
  So once more, the armies were asked to sit and wait, which was testing the morale of his troops. Hundreds of soldiers had suffered frostbite when the Night King had made his appearance and many feared his return. A great deal of these recently injured would end up losing a few fingers and at least one very unlucky man would lose his entire arm. Standing high up on the battlements, the soldier had been making bare his whole arm to have an injury looked at in that crucial moment.
  
  Luckily no one had suffered the fate of the ten men stationed at the most eastern outlook post during that first night that the dead showed up. This time the cold the Night King brought with him had caused no new fatalities. Thanks to the drills that his soldiers had been running for months, it had become second nature to keep their limbs moving at all times whether it was during guard duty or while waiting out in the cold for the enemy to approach. Jon tried to keep his guilt at bay. The small council and his military commanders had done their utmost to prepare and outfit their army. The men's discipline and the meticulously designed uniforms with a thick layer of boiled leather, lined both on the inside and outside with furs, making sure that nowhere cold steel armour came in contact with the naked skin, had saved thousands of lives when the enemy had brought this supernatural cold with him.
  
  For now, Jon and his advisers sat in the Commander's solar huddled around the fire discussing strategies. The commanders were not happy and were frantically looking for ways to protect their King when he had to rise to the Night King's challenge. Jon had just finished perusing the short scroll from Castle Black written in Dany's hand. She wrote that she was slowly recovering after succumbing to exhaustion and dehydration. Jon sighed. Despite all the advice they had given her, with her husband gone, she had ignored most the warnings and had allowed herself and her dragon only the bare-minimum of rest until the last few surviving wights had been driven back.
  
  The scroll from Commander Pyke proudly announced that the forces at Castle Black had successfully defended the Wall and even though oil, cloth and other materials necessary to keep the torches and fire baskets burning had been dwindling fast, they had not fallen short of anything. They still had over fifty per cent of their arrowheads and forty per cent of the heavy iron bolts. Should any of the other forts need them, the King had only to send word. Jaime Lannister looked the most pleased with these reports. He had organised and supervised the bulk of the preparations and had personally determined how much weapons to distribute to each fort.
  
  Most of the commanders at Eastwatch looked at Jon in disbelief after he had finished revealing the tentative arrangement he had made with the enemy and that he would not take to the field before his cousin, Prince Bran of House Stark had arrived and he had conferred with him."
  
  "Prince Bran's presence will be instrumental. He and the Children of the Forest who are travelling with him will be our means of establishing communications with the Night King. Without them, there is no way we can start negotiations with this supernatural enemy," he explained patiently. "Prince Bran is bringing drawings with captions in three languages, the Common Tongue, the Old Tongue and High Valyrian. But nobody except for him or the Children of the Forest will be able to intercept and understand the Night King's response."
  
  Prince Oberyn shook his head in exasperation. "With all due respect, Aegon, I do not believe that! First of all, if that were the case, then how in Seven Hells did you make the enemy retreat earlier?! You just proved that you found a way to communicate with him without the aid of your young cousin! And secondly, as far as I understand the situation going by the descriptions of your Stark uncle, these reinforcements that the Night King showed up with today might have given him the upper hand. So how can you even believe that he wants to negotiate and is not just leading you into a trap so he can eliminate our greatest asset, our only dragonrider for as far as he knows?!" Oberyn cried emphatically.
  
  Jon, familiar with Oberyn's occasional emotional outbursts, locked eyes with the Prince and spoke slowly but with authority. "I will do everything I possibly can to convince the Night King that he has no other option. He will negotiate!"
  
  Oberyn nodded, choosing to accept the situation for now. He could not undermine Aegon in this public setting any more than he already had. Perhaps he could talk some sense into the young King later in a more private setting.
  
  When Prince Bran first insisted that King Aegon needed him at Eastwatch, the Dornish Prince had refused to leave Daenerys's side, citing his vow to protect the Queen with his spear during King Aegon's absence. But after Commander Belmore repeated some of the King's parting words to convince him that the fate of the living hung in the balance and ignoring Prince Bran's advice might tilt the scale in favour of the enemy and doom mankind, Prince Oberyn had relented. Once he had made his decision, he didn't waste any more time and quickly gathered his weapons as well as his warmest coat and met up with the party of men at the gates that were eager to take off. Still, he did leave before he took his leave of his daughters and forced them to swear to protect the Queen until he returned.
  
  Jaime Lannister's reaction to the King's departure had been the exact opposite of Prince Oberyn's initial one. Despite Prince Bran not listing him as one who was needed at Eastwatch, he had insisted on coming along. Ready to argue his point further when the expected refusal came, he had watched with growing confusion how a simple nod from the young Prince of House Stark had been enough to sway Commander Belmore. His Lord Commander had acknowledged the young man's gesture and crisply ordered Ser Jaime to go look for Lord Tyrel and help him select the finest horses, one for each of the men leaving and choose a mount for himself as well. Never before had Jaime Lannister obeyed a command of his Lord Commander at Castle Black with such eagerness.
  
  And so it had happened that, Prince Oberyn had left Daenerys under the protection of Sandor Clegane, the two remaining Kingsguard and his daughters, and had raced to Eastwatch at breakneck speed, flanked by Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold and Jaime Lannister. Five sturdy Northerners were chosen to escort Prince Bran of House Stark, Melisandre of Asshai and three Children of the Forest. They also planned to travel as fast as possible but would not be able to keep up with the four men.
  
  "I don't like this one bit!" Ser Gerold exclaimed. Jon's inner circle and Kingsguard had reconvened to a smaller room after the strategy meeting had been concluded.
  
  Ser Arthur nodded in agreement. "My King, I know that your cousin has never steered you wrong before, but often his visions are rather vague and frankly, this plan of yours is too foolhardy, too dangerous!" He shook his head. "And why do you still listen to that Red Priestess! By the Seven! Anyone can say things like that!" Ser Arthur mimicked Melisandre's dramatic tone. "I predict you will face a dangerous enemy sometime in the future, your Grace and even if you have a chance to win, your fate still hangs in the balance and all might yet be lost for the night is dark and full of terrors!" Then resuming his normal voice he exclaimed, "See?! With vague words like that, anyone can claim to be a greenseer or to have been gifted visions by a foreign deity! I am sure that what I just predicted will come to pass!"
  
  "Mock the Red Priests and our northern greenseers all you want, Ser Arthur, but you can't deny that thanks to some of their visions and warnings, we understood much sooner what threat was looming in the North. Also thanks to them, I became King of the Seven Kingdoms much sooner and with less bloodshed. Both these facts allowed us to thoroughly prepare for this war. Without their visions and warnings, we might have lost the battle moons ago!" Jon argued
  
  Uncle Benjen, who sat next to him, put a hand on his knee. "Still, that doesn't negate the fact the decision you are about to make is extremely important and may decide all our fates. I urge you to consider all angles before you make up your mind. Please, Nephew, do not make your final decision by stubbornly believing in ancient prophecies and blindly following unsubstantiated visions."
  
  Ser Oswell piped in. "To be honest, my King, all those Red Priests and Priestesses flocking to you give me the creeps. Earlier, I witnessed a group of them chanting before the large fireplace in the common hall. They looked possessed; one could even believe they are fanatics. My King, I beg of you, please be cautious and do not forget to use your common sense. You have plenty of that."
  
  Jon, who had been listening with great patience to the well-meant objections of his advisers, held his ground. "I owe them, Ser Oswell. Right now these Red Priests you are so eager to dismiss are instrumental in casting a shadow around our more important conversations and traps. Do not forget that the Night King is a greenseer in his own right." Jon looked at Howland Reed for support but the crannogman kept his silence.
  
  Jaime Lannister stood against the wall and had not spoken until now. He was rather pleased that nobody had barred him from entering the room and had kept himself inconspicuous until now. He had been late for the earlier meeting and wanted to be absolutely certain that he understood what was about to happen. "Your Grace, did the Night King really challenge you to single combat? And is it true that you accepted and agreed to fight his armies without the support of your dragon?"
  
  "He did challenge me and I did accept, Lannister." Jon took a deep breath and let his eyes wander over all his most trusted men. "Please, all of you, let it rest for now. It would be wise to make the utmost of this small window of truce. We are all in dire need of rest. As soon as my cousin arrives, we have to be ready to go out there again. I need you all to have my back and help me reach my goal. It won't be easy to rise to his challenge and fulfil his terms!"
  
  "You can count on me, Aegon!" Prince Oberyn stood. "I came all this way because of a vision. If the Gods truly believe that it is my fate to play the big hero and save your pretty arse out there, who am I to let them down." Then the Dornish Prince addressed the others. "Come on! Allow your King to retire and let him have his beauty sleep. Better yet, let us all catch some sleep so we can fight another day!"
  
  A day and a half later, near the eastern palisades of Eastwatch south of the Wall.
  
  Jon, flanked by Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur greeted the large contingents of soldiers that passed him by gesturing for them to continue without him. These men were on their way back to the palisades to change shifts. He smiled when he saw Tormund and Lannister break rank and join their small party that was heading inside.
  
  "We need to find a way to get closer to the White Walkers," Ser Arthur voiced the obvious as they were walking toward the main building. The White Knight looked worn, his white coat smeared with filth. The others did not fare any better. They had been amongst the ones that had been fighting for most of the night and had just been relieved. The second shift lead by Commanders Snow, Tully and Belmore was out there now continuing their effort to keep the dead from breaching the fortifications around the fort. Sparing his energy for when the Night King deigned to show his face again, Jon joined the fighting for approximately a third of each shift.
  
  Seeing their King take to the field and witness his skill with a sword had boosted the morale of his ground troops. His commanders stopped complaining about how difficult it was becoming to motivate their men. Instead, many soldiers vied for a spot closer to the front lines where the King and his Kingsguard were fighting, so they could prove to King Aegon that they were worthy to fight beside him.
  
  For Jon slicing through wight after wight became a means of channelling some of his growing frustration with the Night King. His nemesis didn't seem in a hurry to show his face again. Bran had warned him that their enemy had a different perception of time and didn't care how many of his forces perished in the meantime. Most probably, he was aware of how much the king of the living cared for the life of his soldiers.
  
  Still, participating in the actual fighting was very rewarding. Wielding Blackfyre felt familiar and it reassured Jon that his sword-fighting skills hadn't suffered from lack of training.
  
  Even with Rhaegar's grumbling in the back of his mind, Jon left the battlefield in high spirits. He had exerted himself just enough and looked forward to sharing a meal with the men who had fought beside him. He stopped in his tracks as two consecutive explosions were heard in the distance. His entire party looked over their shoulders to admire the green flames that were burning higher than the fort's tallest tower. The caches of wildfire were the best substitute they had for the fire of his dragon. Even from where they stood, they all could see a large part of the battlefield temporary being illuminated by the green light of the wildfire. Jon climbed on the nearest obstacle to better oversee the carnage the explosion had caused but more importantly to use the green light to locate the White Walkers out there.
  
  Tormund climbed up on the crates und now stood next to Jon. He spat at his own feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "Those ice fuckers are cowards, hiding behind their stinking wights and fucking spiders! What if we form a small group on horseback and circle around so we can attack the White Fuckers from the rear." Both men studied the White Walkers' defensive position behind endless rows of wights and spiders.
  
  "We've already discussed this," Jon answered after some consideration. They can sense our warmth perhaps even hear our heartbeat. We would be outnumbered before we could take out enough of them to make a difference. It would be a suicide mission. I already forbade the crannogmen to attempt an ambush. I won't allow you to try this either. We stick to the plan."
  
  Ser Patrick took a step forward. "We need to come up with a better way to lure the wights away from their leaders. Use more wildfire perhaps?"
  
  Prince Oberyn, who had joined their little group, rubbed his beard. "If I may, perhaps we should readjust our tactics slightly, Aegon. We could use long-range weapons. When they inevitably regroup after the wildfire has died out and launch a new wave of attack, why not let them approach the palisades, they'll be closer to the Wall. Man all the scorpions with our best archers and have them prepare the scorpions in advance. Let each of them target a different area of the battlefield close to the palisades. We still have plenty of those bolts coated with Valyrian steel heads."
  
  "Aye, the archers could help us bring down these icy fuckers, make them burst into tiny ice crystals and we know that when that happens, many of those stinking cunts drop like flies!" Tormund exclaimed. "Then we can make a run for the remaining Ice Fuckers and get the Dragonrider close to his nemesis for his duel."
  
  "I approve of any plan that reduces their numbers without giving up our strategical advantage," Jon answered eying the fortified enclosure with some doubt. "They still outnumber us and we would suffer heavy losses if they breached the palisade." He fixed the men before him with a challenging look.
  
  When no one spoke up again, Tormund grew impatient. "What are we standing around in this fucking cold for? Let's head inside before there is no decent food or ale left," he exclaimed and jumped off the crates only to stop in his tracks when the faint light of the moon dimmed and the stars disappeared. The green flames had died out as well and the world around them had turned black. Shouts went up all around them. "Light more torches and rekindle the fire baskets! Torches over here! Squires, fetch more torches!"
  
  Someone had kept his cool because several explosions provided the living with enough green light for a while to adapt their strategy to this latest setback. Even if the landscape was now disfigured by an otherworldly green hue, it did the trick. When the green flames slowly died out again, the living had lit enough torches to hold their positions in the pitch-black night.
  
  Before Jon could decide whether to head inside or not, a loud blast coming from the horn of one of the giants resonated over the icy landscape. They had used Jaime Lannister's idea to have the Giants help them keep track of the location and movements of the White Walkers during battles on the ground. Sam had liked the idea and had developed a simple code consisting of sequences of blasts of differing lengths to convey messages. Each message started and ended with one blast that lasted at five slow counts. They all paid attention eager to decipher the message.
  
  "The White Walkers are advancing in formation and this time the Night King has joined them!" Jon translated the message. 'If we live through this, I will reward Mag the Mighty and also the man who ordered those explosives to be set off just now. ' Out loud he declared, "I need to head back out there! This might be it! Send for the cavalry from the Reach! Also call for Ser Oswell, Ser Loras and Ser Patreck to join us. They will want to flank me out there. Ghost to me!"
  
  Jon checked his belt and only saw Blackfyre dangling from it. He cursed under his breath. "Where the hells is my squire! That Flint boy should have cleaned IceFire by now and returned it to me! Have him bring my sword to me in seven hastes! I'll have his hide if he didn't clean it properly!"
  
  "Someone fetch the King's horse!" Ser Arthur yelled loudly, his command sending several squires off in the direction of the stables. Ser Gerold was watching the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Jon sent him an intimidating stare to discourage his Lord Commander from voicing once again how much he disagreed with his King's decision to side-line the dragon. Ser Gerold could not fathom how his King could trust any terms coming from such a vile enemy.
  
  But Jon had held firm. He had accepted the challenge of the Night King because his instincts told him that this was the chance that Bran had alluded to. He still didn't know how, but he had understood the telepathic message of his enemy for the most part. Perhaps Azor Ahai and the Night King were linked more closely than even Bran, or should he call him the three-eyed raven, suspected. His little cousin had encouraged Jon's plans and added a few details. The Night King had promised that if the King of the Living could get past most of his White Walkers without using dragonfire, then the Night King would deem him a worthy adversary and would fight the hero of the living in single combat. 'Two Kings to decide the faith of the realm. One duel to end it all.'
  
  Jon knew it was their only chance to force the Night King into a position where he had no other recourse than to reinstate the Pact. If Jon did not accept this challenge, then the Seven Kingdoms would never be safe. No matter how hard a blow they dealt his forces over the coming days, the Night King could simply retreat and hide in his untouchable dome in the far North, regain his strength and attack at a time of his choosing when the living least expected it.
  
  Jon was tired of this threat hanging over his head and the responsibility he carried as this prophesized saviour. Besides he couldn't ask the tens of thousands of men necessary to keep manning the entire length of the Wall to sacrifice their day to day life to stay in the North. If Westeros wanted to live in relative peace and prosperity, they needed to end this war once and for all. Jon would leave no stone unturned and would play his part to annihilate this enemy!
  
  Not that much later in the thick of the fight
  
  "Those dead fuckers are not playing fair! They keep using tricks to cripple us and freeze us to death! Keep those torches burning!" Tormund yelled at Ygritte and the other spearwives, his frustration apparent to all who knew him. "And we were doing so well." He muttered under his breath. The bulk of the ground forces had come out from behind the palisades in an attempt to drive the enemy closer to the Wall and isolate the White Walkers. A loud cheer erupted when a bolt struck his target and a White Walker disintegrated taking at least a thousand wights with him. But as it had happened more than once before already, another Walker raised his arm and the wights that had just collapsed, reopened their eerie blue eyes and rose again.
  
  "Watch out!" Someone behind Tormund yelled.
  
  "Pay better attention!" Another voice muttered and a fierce spear wife assisted by three men hacked at an ice spider dismembering the creature before piercing its abdomen and effectively killing the thing. They had all been instructed by the field commanders: 'Do not engage an ice spider alone! Work in teams and only go for the killing blow, meaning piercing the spider's abdomen if you are no longer in any danger of getting get impaled by one of the eight sharp legs.'
  
  "To our left, another spider approaches!" Someone yelled. "More wights incoming as well!"
  
  The blast of a horn with a sharper resounded clearly, despite the noise of the skirmishes going on over the entire width of the battleground. "That's the horn of the Kingsguard!" Commander Belmore yelled to his men. "The King will lead the charge and a large cavalry will follow after him. We must clear a path, else they won't be able to gain enough speed. Keep pushing the enemy to the left and for Godssake, make room!"
  
  The horn sounded again, two short blows this time. "Get some distance between us and the enemy! Use your torches to set these bushes on fire! Hurry!" Belmore urged his men.
  
  A bit further afield Ygritte gripped Tormund's arm. "Hey, why is the Dragonrider sitting on a horse instead of riding his dragon?"
  
  "Because he might be fucking mad!" Tormund yelled back, scowling at the top of the Wall where Rhaegal was sitting idly, seemingly content to simply follow proceedings. "The Dragonrider assured me he has this brilliant plan but can't do it alone! So shut up and help our Dragonfriend carry it out! For fucks sake, take a step forward and brace your shield! We have to drive these fuckers closer to the Wall!" Tormund swung his big axe made of Valyrian steel and in one fell swoop cut off three legs of the ice spider that dared to approach him.
  
  Tormund beamed as he glanced at the beautiful weapon his friend had gifted him. 'Magical steel,' the dragonrider had called it. 'Just like my sword, it will cut through anything. And it is modelled after a famous axe of a noble house.' Tormund had forgotten the name of the kneeler's house but the design of the axe was really something. He let out a battle cry as he cut off the remaining limbs of the ice spider and then swiftly split the creature's abdomen in two. 'Aye, that fateful night that he first saw the dragonrider fly to their rescue more than a year ago, had been a lucky night indeed!'
  
  Not so far behind them, the dragonrider himself, with IceFire in his right hand and his five Kingsguards and a large regiment of the Reach stampeding behind him was ready to lead the charge. Their first objective was to get the King close enough to the Night King to force the latter to honour his challenge and face King Aegon in single combat. Their second one was to annihilate as many of his generals, ice spiders and wights as quickly as possible to throw the Night King off balance and make him doubt his victory.
  
  At least that was what Jon's inner circle had told most of their allies. Only a select few knew that this was a desperate attempt to make the enemy believe that just as had happened thousands of years before, the living would prevail and there was no way the battle could still be won by the dead, not even with the divine help of the Great Other. The three-eyed raven and the Children of the Forest had been adamant: to have a real chance of reinstating the Old Pact, they first needed to separate the Night King from the Great Other. The only reason the Great Other would ever consider doing such a thing was if his immortality was threatened. As long as the Great Other and the Night King formed a single entity, their fates were merged.
  
  The moment the Night King showed up, Jon intended to launch an all-out attack, so brutal, so devastating that the Great Other would realise that their alliance would fail to subdue the living this time around. If he believed that the Night King might lose, then, according to the three-eyed raven, the demon not willing to risk his eternal lifespan would surely split his life force from his provisional ally and return to the realm of the Gods so he could live on and create havoc in another era.
  
  Neither the Great Other nor anyone in the realm of the living knew what would occur when this demon re-entered the realm of the Gods. For the first time since the Great Divine Division that aeons upon aeons ago had resulted in the creation of most of the still existing religions, the Gods had called a temporary truce and formed a united front. This meant that the of Old and New Gods, the Lord of Light, the Drowned God and the forgotten Gods of the East would be ready and waiting for the Great Other's return. Their combined power would be more than sufficient to incapacitate the renegade deity and chain him in perpetuity.
  
  Jon, blissfully unaware of this, conjured up the images of the duel he had seen glimpses of in his vision and added the extra details that his little cousin had described to him. This way he mentally steeled himself for the crucial confrontation.
  
  Lifting IceFire in the air he shouted at the top of his lungs, "We move forward on three: One, two, three!"
  
  Dawn was long overdue and it was still pitch black out there. The battlefield was one big chaos. Despite not being out there for that long, Jon felt chilled to the bone. He did not risk linking his mind with Rhaegal's to channel some of the dragon's warmth. He couldn't risk getting distracted, not even for a short moment. Locking eyes with Ghost, Jon spurred his horse and tried to avoid the skirmishes in front of him, his eyes firmly fixed on his target.
  
  Straight ahead some hundred feet away loomed a tall figure with a white-blue wrinkled face and frozen peaks of what once might have been hair forming a creepy simulacrum of a crown. Even though hundreds of wights and ice spiders stood between him and his goal, the Night King, seated atop a giant ice spider, stood out.
  
  Ghost kept up with Jon's horse, ripping through the leg of a White Walker who was about to pierce his human with a longspear. Jon took advantage of the creature's surprise and IceFire cut through the Walker's breastplate easily, piercing its icy skin where it was most vulnerable. Before the ice crystals had reached the ground, two more White Walkers riding ice spiders changed direction and came at him. Ser Arthur moved to block the one on Jon's left cutting two legs of the eight-legged ice creature. Ser Jaime copied his move, crippling the spider that carried the White Walker attacking Jon's other side. Loud cheers went up around them when these two creatures were reduced to small heaps of ice crystals mere moments later. Fighting resumed quickly as the thousands of wights that had crumbled were instantly reanimated. From the corner of his eye, Jon saw the raised arms of the Night King. The only way to incapacitate these wights now would be to slay none other than the Night King.
  
  That gesture only provoked Jon as he kept slicing and cutting left and right with renewed determination and easily kept up with Ghost who was instrumental in scattering the horde of wights and spiders, clearing a path for his human and his companions almost singlehandedly. Jon soon outstripped his cavalry only Ser Arthur and Jaime Lannister able to keep less than half a horse length between their horses and the King's. Jon vaguely heard Prince Oberyn calling out to him to slow down but Jon choose to ignore it, not wanting anything to interrupt his forward momentum.
  
  Sensing that his target was almost within reach, he spurred his horse once again and spotted the large ice bear a fraction too late. Ghost lunging at the bear sideways changed the large predator's trajectory, the creature now obstructing the path of Jon's mount. Unaware of that fact, his direwolf swiftly jumped on top of the large bear and ripped at its throat. One bite was enough for the direwolf's sharp teeth to practically sever the undead head from the bear's decaying body. Ghost's valiant action, however, caused Jon's horse as well as the horses of his two companions to rear and change direction. Jon didn't think twice and jumped off his horse that surely would have taken him further away from his target. Ser Jaime and Ser Arthur dismounted moments later and sprinted toward their King.
  
  Jon wasn't fazed at all. He knew he would have opted to dismount soon anyway. His horse had served its purpose. It had gotten him past most of the enemy lines, close enough to his target. The Night King was almost within touching distance so he figured he was better off with his two feet firmly planted on the ground anyway. From this position, he had a better chance of dismembering the giant spider the Night King used as a mount.
  
  However, Jon's feet had barely hit the frozen surface before he and Ghost were set upon by several ice spiders and a few clumsy wights. Ser Arthur who once again had managed to have one foot in front of his King was bearing the brunt of the attack. Jaime Lannister's sheer determination had allowed him to rejoin his King's only a few moments later. The former Kingsguard looked the worse for the wear but stubbornly kept defending Jon's right. Glancing over his shoulder, Jon realised that the three of them were temporarily cut off from the rest of their cavalry. A thick row of spiders and wights had moved behind them, keeping Ser Gerold, Prince Oberyn, Ser Patreck and the knights of the Reach at bay for now.
  
  Jon vaguely heard the men behind him shout their battle cries but focussed his attention on the enemy in front of him. The three of them managed to destroy most of the creatures standing between them and the Night King. Now only three more Walkers separated him from his nemesis. Jon threw the Night King a defiant look and felt mesmerized as the ice creature locked eyes with him. The Night King dismounted in slow motion or at least that was how Jon perceived it. To him, it seemed as if everything was coming to a standstill. He saw the remaining White Walkers, spiders and wights all move back as if in a trance.
  
  About to raise his hand to command his forces to halt their attack as well, the world around him sped up all of sudden and the giant ice spider, that had served as the Night King's mount, now free of its rider, leapt at Jon, its four front legs extended forward intent on piercing the leader of the living. Ser Arthur once more stepped forward to protect his King, aiming to cut off two of the legs of the creature as Icefire sliced off another. Jon vaguely heard Ser Arthur's cry out in anger or pain but kept his mind focussed on the Night King who was studying Jon's actions with utter fascination. Then, his foe took a big step forward and Jon did so as well, gesturing to his Kingsguard to keep their current position. As if by magic, the remaining White Walkers, ice spiders and wights in his vicinity changed course and started to create a perimeter around both Kings. Soon enough a large open space was cleared out and an uneasy status quo was established.
  
  One simple hand gesture in Ser Gerold's direction was enough for his Lord Commander to line up the royal forces in a half-circle, mirroring the enemy's current position. The enemy retreated a bit further until both armies each formed a half circle on their respective side of the battlefield, keeping a respectful distance from their enemy and the two Kings eying each other in the middle of the cleared out space.
  
  Jon felt his heart hammer in his throat. This was it! He closed his eyes for a fraction of a moment to check whether Rhaegal realised he was needed on the battlefield. Before Jon had led the charge he had connected his mind with his dragon one last time, walking him through the vision that lately had become a recurring nightmare. It seemed such a long time ago that he had experienced that particular vision for the first time after swallowing that dangerous mixture of mushrooms and herbs. He felt Rhaegal link their minds as the dragon came swooping down. Jon kept the connection open. That way they were both stronger. Not only mentally as they had proven when they had withstood the magic of the Dragonbinder together, but also physically. Dragons were immune to dragonfire and being linked to Rhaegal enhanced Jon's tolerance to it.
  
  Adhering to the three-eyed raven's advice, Jon made sure to recreate the vision as accurately as possible. More of the three-eyed raven's advice resonated in his mind. 'Don't let the Night King enter your head', but first and foremost: 'Instead, open your mind to both sides of your power.'
  
  The Night King took another step forward. Raising his glove-covered right hand, and an ice sword, identical to IceFire, slowly took shape before Jon's eyes. Rhaegal breathed a tentative flame and the Night King smirked when the flame engulfed both of them, effectively separating both Kings from the remainder of the battlefield without harming their respective armies. Jon and his nemesis both took a fighting stance, ready to face off.
  
  Jon's eyes, that had grown used to fighting in the dark, slowly adapted to the sudden influx of light. The Night King made the first move, the strike he opened with very familiar to Jon. He easily parried and allowed to Night King to dictate for a while, using this initial phase to study his opponent's skills and tactics. Jon's ability to see through his opponent's moves, adapt his style where necessary, combined with his excellent footwork and amazing speed, allowed him to win against almost every opponent he faced. Only when he got distracted or was not at his full physical strength, did he lose the occasional bout.
  
  Jon vividly remembered his vision and was prepared for his opponent to match him strike for strike. To know this, however, was not the same as to experience it! He had hoped that drastically stepping up his training in such a way that it had frightened his Kingsguard, would have afforded him some advantage. Parrying a few more swings, Jon finally found an opening and latched out with a powerful unorthodox swing only to have the Night King fend off his more advanced tactics with great ease. It was as if the creature knew beforehand where Jon intended to strike.
  
  Jon encouraged Rhaegal to keep breathing fire, warning him to make sure that he kept his flames contained, and released just big enough ones to maintain their bubble of fire that kept the others from interfering. At times, noises from the battlefield reached him, but he ignored them for the most part. Jon almost faltered when the Night King lunged forward, attacking him with one of the more complex combinations Ser Arthur had taught him before mixing it up with an unorthodox but effective move Sandor had shown him once and Jon used from time to time.
  
  It was then that it dawned on him. Not only was the Night King a greenseer able to see bits of pieces of his training sessions, but the creature had also developed identical sword fighting skills. Besides their fates being linked in some creepy way, the Night King had somehow absorbed Jon's better than average sword fighting skills. Bran's words sprang to mind. His cousin had more than once told him that the Gods were there to assure that Good balanced Evil and vice versa. It was that very fact that kept the most powerful greenseers in the realm and the wisest Maesters studying thousands of years' old prophecies from being able to predict the outcome of this duel.
  
  ' What could give the side of the living the edge?' Jon's mind frantically searched for a solution as he automatically parried and attacked in turn, using every trick in his arsenal only for the Night King to neutralise his swings with a grace that Jon couldn't help but admire. The only reaction he had gotten out of his opponent was a creepy smirk. The Night King didn't look the least bit flustered or sweaty. 'Ice creatures probably didn't break a sweat, how could they?!'
  
  Jon, rebuking himself for letting his mind wander, attacked with renewed vigour. Suddenly, the dynamics of their fight shifted. Jon sensed the Night King's rage flare up. Next thing he knew, the Night King used a trick that Jon should have recognised since it was one of the weaker points of many of his guards. His nemesis struck at Jon with a dagger that had materialised in his other hand out of thin air and Jon was a trifle too late to avoid it entirely, and received a small cut to his cheek. The Night King, savouring this small victory, paused for a fraction of a moment and touched his cheek in wonder.
  
  Jon however instantly remembered Kinvara's most import instruction. 'R'hllor will only interfere if the Darkness draws first blood and Azor Ahai humbly summons the help of the Lord of Light by coating his sword with said blood. Only when these conditions are fulfilled will R'hllor grant the Champion of the Living the power to set Lightbringer aflame with his mind.' Jon didn't hesitate and taking advantage of the Night King touching his left cheek in wonder, concentrated on lighting IceFire and regained his fighting stance.
  
  And so their dance continued. The Night King, at first taken aback by this new development, soon was able to level the fight again. Jon could feel his right arm tiring and switched his sword to his left hand for a while. The Night King mimicked his gesture and the fight continued. Jon ducked and moved to the left, only for the Night King to copy the same move moments later. Jon's breathing became heavier, his mind frantically searching for a solution. 'Open your mind to both sides. What did that even mean?'
  
  He startled when Ghost gave him a mental nudge. The Night King immediately used the opportunity to land a heavy blow on Jon's left arm. Jon's Valyrian armour absorbed most of the blow but still, it hurt like hell. He almost dropped his sword and quickly switched it to his right hand again, distracting the Night King by waving the flames in front of his face. Jon had noticed that even though the Night King remained unfazed by dragonfire, he feared IceFire's flames and took fewer risks ever since the sword had been lit.
  
  Ready for the next move of his opponent, Jon circled the Night King patiently and caught him eying his left arm with a frown. 'Our fates are entwined. If I hurt, he hurts. If I die, he dies!' Jon thoughts were interrupted when he once more sensed Ghost's frustration. Suddenly he understood! 'Open your mind to both sides of your power!' He allowed Ghost to link their minds and fully embraced the fierceness of his wolf. It didn't dim the warmth and endurance his dragon shared with him. Both dragon and direwolf were now linked with him. Feeling invigorated, he took a step forward and started to attack the Night King with a ferocity he never knew he had in him.
  
  His strokes while still retaining their technique now dealt feral blows and Jon looked like a savage whose only goal was to kill his prey as viciously as possible. The moment Icefire touched the Night King, the magical flames imbued with the power of R'hllor penetrated his armour and sliced the icy skin of the Night King making his nemesis howl in pain. Jon braced himself to have the same hurt inflicted on him through their strange link but felt only a dull pain and felt Ghost's pride.
  
  A predatory smile curved Jon's lips when the Night King showed his first signs of panic. He unsheathed Blackfyre and allowing Ghost and Rhaegal to fuel him, he attacked the Night King with both swords, Blackfyre doing most of the work, while the arm wielding IceFire waited for the opening. The second time IceFire cut the Night King the sword completely severed his adversary's left hand. Although a new ice-blue hand reformed almost instantly, a large thunder roared over the Eastwatch.
  
  Jon saw the look of confusion on the Night King's face and prayed that the thunder was a sign that the Great Other had chosen to abandon his ally. The Night King made a desperate attempt and conjured up a tall ice spear to regain the advantage. Jon lifted both swords cross-angled above his head as he held the spear at bay but was at a loss for how to defend against the incoming ice dagger that the Night King trusted at him with his recently re-formed left hand.
  
  However, before the dagger could pierce the lower part of Jon's body, Ser Jaime barged into the ball of fire and toppled the Night King before collapsing on top of his target. Instead of burning to death, the flames died out and the brave man's lips turned blue. Rhaegal had instantly stopped breathing fire which allowed Ghost to lung at the Night King before the creature could toss Jaime Lannister's body aside and get back up on his feet. Jon ordered his direwolf to only incapacitate their enemy reminding both his dragon and his wolf that killing this magical creature might kill their human. Ghost growled in frustration but obeyed, and gripped one of the Night King's legs firmly between his sharp teeth dragging him away from Jaime Lannister which allowed Jon to aim his flaming sword at the Night King's chest.
  
  Shortly after Rhaegal had stopped breathing fire Ser Edric Dayne, Prince Oberyn and two of his Kingsguard appeared at Jon's side. They secured the Night King's hands behind his back taking care to touch him as little as possible. Finally realising that the duel had come to an end, exhaustion got the better of him and Jon fell to his knees. Breathing heavily, he saw Howland Reed approach with Gendry, the latter carrying a heavy-looking iron chain. Jon vaguely was aware of that two knights of the Reach were carrying away the unconscious form of Jaime Lannister.
  
  Next, he heard the distant chants of the Red Priest. Later he would learn that they were invoking incantation, this time not meant to keep the cold from extinguishing the torches and fire baskets, but to summon a spell preventing the Night King from freezing his bounds and breaking them. He blinked his eyes twice and wondered if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming or whether he had finally given into madness and was hallucinating because here was his Dany, kneeling beside him, embracing him and peppering his face with kisses.
  
  Interlude 57: The other front
  
  Jaime Lannister couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Rhaegar's son riding his green dragon and disappear in the distance. This was the second time that he lost his chance to prove his worth to his King. Heroically defending your King at your own life's peril had been much easier when there were no dragons to contend with. His dream of saving his King's life and being restored to the Kingsguard seemed further away than ever. When he could not distinguish the small form of the King's dragon any longer, he scanned the sky north of him for the Queen. She was much easier to detect, the flames of her dragon readily giving away her position. He was glad he didn't have to be the one to inform her that her husband had left. As far as Jaime knew, this had never been the plan. Noticing Cotter Pyke step out of the cage, Jaime realised that his shift was over.
  
  "The King has left?" Jaime forewent the habitual greeting he owed his Lord Commander.
  
  Cotter Pyke for once didn't mind and answered readily. "According to that Red Priestess, the dead have gotten past the Wall at Eastwatch. The armies stationed there need the King and his dragon more than we do."
  
  "How in Seven Hells did they get past the Wall and does the Queen know?" Jaime asked taken aback.
  
  "They will brief you downstairs on the how. To answer your second question, the King claims her dragon will tell her. I've given up on trying to understand those two, prophecies, magic, Red Priests and now Children of the Forest and now a boy-child greenseer. I'm getting too old for this shit."
  
  Jaime nodded his head in sympathy. "Younger men have trouble keeping up, I can assure you, Commander."
  
  Pyke was in a sharing mood it seemed. He shook his head. "The King is not the only one heading for Eastwatch. We are now following the orders of a twelve-year-old boy! He is dictating who is needed over there."
  
  Jaime frowned. "How did that come about?"
  
  "Orders of our almighty King, of course! Nobody contradicts a Targaryen King with dragons, no matter what nonsense he may utter." As Jaime's expression darkened, the commander hastily added, "I have the utmost respect for King Aegon. Truly, I do. Without him, the Night's Watch would no longer exist. We would have been wiped out by the Wildlings uh Free Folk before we even saw our first wights. I, uh, the Night's Watch would never have agreed to a truce. I know that we owe King Aegon our existence. He saved our arses at least twice over. It is just... ," he faltered and sighed.
  
  Jaime used the lull to enquire. "Who is heading for Eastwatch? Am I allowed to accompany them?"
  
  "Your name was not mentioned as far as I know. Let me see if I recall correctly. The King asked for Ser Arthur, his young cousin the greenseer and some of those awkward little wood creatures, his direwolf... ," he paused again making an effort to recall more. "Oh and a few of those strange Red Priests and a wildling giant stationed at some fort closer to Eastwatch will be asked to relocate to Eastwatch as well. I believe that is it."
  
  "Can I volunteer for this mission, Lord Commander?" Jaime asked trying to keep his voice from revealing how much he wanted this. "I could be of some assistance to King Aegon. I am a trained Kingsguard after all and he is a few short."
  
  "The King has three stationed there and Ser Arthur travelling to Eastwatch makes four." Commander Pyke retorted.
  
  "But I am not really needed here anymore. The traps are working, the men know what to do and our side is winning. It is only a matter of time before the dead are defeated. The situation sounds much worse at Eastwatch. Can you imagine what could have happened here if the dead had attacked us on both sides of the Wall? You know they outnumber us here and there are fewer men stationed at Eastwatch than at Castle Black. I know I can be of more use there," Jaime Lannister pleaded, no longer concealing how much he longed to hurry after his King.
  
  "All right! Talk to Ser Gerold," Commander Pyke muttered disgruntled. "I won't object if he allows it."
  
  Jaime could have kissed his Lord Commander's cheeks but instead, he hurried to the winch-drawn cage. He wouldn't waste another moment that could be spent convincing Ser Gerold that Jaime Lannister was of more service at Eastwatch than here.
  
  Even if he lived to be a hundred, Jaime would never forget the forlorn look on the face of Queen Daenerys when she heard what was happening at Eastwatch and that her husband had flown off without taking the time to say and was not likely to return for a while. It had dimmed the elation he felt upon hearing Ser Gerold agree to and even welcome his offer. He should have known that as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold never believed his King had enough protection and Ser Gerold certainly acknowledged Jamie's potential.
  
  It shouldn't have shocked him that as he walked out of the front gate of Castle Black, Ser Gerold also was part of the group heading for Eastwatch. The Lord Commander would travel with Prince Oberyn, Ser Arthur and Jaime Lannister and had carefully chosen a group of competent northerners to escort the King's cousin and the Children of the Forest on their journey to Eastwatch. He had heard whispers that the young Prince Stark and these strange Children had a vital role to play. But Jaime had yet to learn what that was might be.
  
  Now seated on one of the better horses he had discovered in the stables of Castle Black, Jaime bowed in the direction of Daenerys Targaryen who was seeing them off. He silently prayed that it would not be long before King Aegon and Queen Daenerys were reunited and he could witness their happiness again. Perhaps that could be the case during the royal couple's victory speech, because the universe owed Jaime Lannister one. It was no more than his due that Rhaegar's son with the help of his dragons, his mighty, unified royal army, the likes of which Jaime had never seen in his lifetime, and all Jaime's careful planning and strategizing would result in nothing less than absolute and total victory for the living!
  
  Endnotes:
  
  Next chapter we learn more about what happened while Jon was fighting the Night King and I wrap up this story in Winterfell. In the very last interlude or should I say epilogue, I finally reveal Tywin Lannister's fate.
  
  previous chapterchapter list
  All is well that ends well
  Chapter 58: All is well that ends well
  
  Summary:
  
  Is it possible to negotiate with the Night King? Can Jon and his entourage end the threat once and for all? When all is said and done, we return to Winterfell. The last interlude deals with the fate of the all-but-forgotten Lord Tywin of House Lannister.
  
  Notes:
  
  Personal goal achieved! Story finished!
  
  Chapter text:
  
  Jon welcomed the rays of bright sunlight. For the first time in sennights, the sun was not obscured by heavy clouds or fog. Thoroughly exhausted and hurting all over, he allowed his Kingsguard to guide the big warhorse he rode to the entrance of the main building.
  
  Dany sat in front of him. He held on to her with one arm to ascertain that she was really here and not a figment of his tired mind. Although he was covered in sweat and the remains of decayed corpses, she hadn't cringed when he pulled her against his body. He was still in some kind of daze. It was hard to fathom that it was over and they had done it. The Night King was in chains and what had remained of his armies had fled. The worst part was over and he was still alive. Dany was still alive. Hopefully, most of his soldiers had made it as well. Now they could move on to the next phase of their plan.
  
  He and Dany hadn't exchanged any words of significance yet. There would be time for that later. He just held on to her, relieved beyond words that the fighting was finally over and they had both survived.
  
  Ghost had been more energetic in his greeting. Dany had laughed at his antics and had shooed him away so he would not startle the horse they had found for them. Jon was too tired to order Ghost to rinse off most of the filth before following them inside. A part of him didn't want to. After all, his direwolf was one of the reasons he was still breathing. He leaned his head on Dany's shoulder. He needed to hold it together a bit longer. Before they could rejoice, they needed to deal with the Night King. But more importantly, he desperately longed to apologize to Dany. It would be the first thing he did once they had a semblance of privacy.
  
  He vaguely recalled the trip to his room. Once there, Ser Loras who looked all right except for a swollen eye assisted the Flint boy in his awkward attempt to remove the King's armour. It was a pity that both Renny and Monty were at Castle Black. They would have finished the task in no time without all this manhandling. He made a mental note to be more appreciative of his two squires in future. Dany had followed him inside and silently watched the proceedings from a chair a bit out of the way. As soon as the Flint boy left the room to fetch the Maester, they locked eyes. Ser Loras gestured from the doorway that he would stand guard outside and closed the door. Dany rose but after taking one step in his direction she hesitated.
  
  "I am sorry," they both uttered at the same time.
  
  Jon stared at her not believing his ears. Taking a few steps, he swiftly closed the remaining distance between them but realising how filthy his hands and face still were he hesitated. Why in Seven Hells was there no washing bowl in this blasted room! He refrained from kissing her and settled for taking her into his arms. He offered her his most tender look.
  
  "Dany, love, I can't express how sorry I am for leaving you at Castle Black the way I did. I have been chastising myself ever since. Please, let me make it up to you. Tell me how and I will! Anything, Dany! I will do anything! But first, explain something to me. I can't, for the life of me, come up with a reason that explains why you apologized to me just now."
  
  "I acted rashly. I did not... ," Dany started to explain haltingly but fell silent as the Maester entered followed by the Flint boy carrying a large bowl of water and a soap bar. Ser Loras stepped inside as well.
  
  Jon sighed, frustrated that further explanations would have to be postponed and released her from his arms. "Allow me to get cleaned up and have this cut stitched up, Daenerys. We'll talk later."
  
  Ignoring the filth, Dany gently kissed the cheek that was still intact. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll go check on the dragons."
  
  "I'd rather we do that together- afterwards," he started to say but noticing how her face darkened, he quickly amended, "You are of course free to do as you wish. But please, each time you venture outside, allow the Kingsguard to accompany you. There might still be ice spiders or wights lurking about." Dany gave him a ghost of a smile before leaving the room.
  
  The Maester waited until Jon had cleaned off most of the dirt with the assistance of the Flint boy. Needing to be quick but still doing a thorough job, Jon was short of breath the moment he was finished. He tried to remain patient during the Maester's examination. The man first checked the cut on his cheek and the deep bruises covering his arm. Declaring that the cut only needed two or three stitches and that nothing was broken, the Maester then proceeded to push each of his ribs and bruises one by one.
  
  In the end, the Maester decided only to treat the cut. "The rest of your injuries are minor and will heal given enough time. If his Grace would take care to limit the movement of his sword arm for a couple of days? I could provide a sling?"
  
  Jon shook his head. "I'll remember to be careful, Maester, no sling necessary."
  
  "Your Grace's cheek will probably feel sore for a few days and you should refrain from smiling to keep the stitches intact. You were lucky to come away with only minor injuries. With his Grace's permission, I will head back to assist the other healers who are tending to the more severely injured."
  
  Jon nodded as he accepted a clean tunic from the Flint boy. "Of course. I am grateful for your assistance, Maester."
  
  "My King," Ser Oswell entered the room. "Ser Gerold is about to start his debriefing and hoped that you would attend."
  
  Ignoring his exhaustion, Jon jumped off the table. He was eager to learn what had happened before and after Rhaegal's flames had shut him and the Night king off from the rest of the battlefield. He was confident that Ser Gerold had been busy and had already gathered information from several key witnesses. Jon had some things to contribute as well, things he had experienced in that bubble that nobody had known about and not even Sam had brought up as a possible scenario.
  
  And even had anyone suggested it, Jon might not have believed them. It had been so inhumanly cold inside that ball of fire! The Night King had widened their bubble of fire by emitting a cold field that had chilled Jon to the bones. It had hindered his agility at first. Jon was no healer but he had always been taught not to strain his muscles at the start of a fight and always make sure to warm them up first. Muscles needed warmth to gain strength and speed.
  
  Also because it had been so unexpected, he had been slightly disoriented at first. After spending more than a year worrying and looking for solutions with Sam, it had been unsettling to realise that all his doubts, all his fear of not being able to withstand the fire of his dragons for long enough had been for nought.
  
  The Night King's force field had created a cold vacuum and the few times that Jon had accidentally brushed against the barrier of fire, Rhaegal's flames had not hurt him at all. The opposite had been true actually. Touching the dragonfire had warmed his blood and restored some of the energy he had spent. Using that knowledge, Jon had faked losing his balance a few times so he could stumble into the fire whilst praying that the Night King didn't see through his subterfuge.
  
  As their fight continued, time had slowed down allowing him to counter anything that the Night King had thrown at him. He had hoped for that to happen, prayed for it actually, but nothing had prepared him for what had happened the moment that Ghost had shared his instincts and wolfish fierceness with him. All of a sudden Jon had felt invincible!
  
  If not for the dilemma of their linked fates, he would have ended the Night King right then and there! Ghost had given him such a boost of confidence that had lasted until-until that one miscalculation. It was not fair that your enemy could conjure up ice weapons out of thin air. How did you anticipate an attack of a non-existent weapon in your attacker's left hand? Ser Oswell cough brought him back to the present. While he had been lost in his thoughts, they had reached their destination.
  
  "We are here, My King." Ser Oswell said opening the door of the common room.
  
  Jon entered first. After reassuring Ser Gerold that he was all right, he took a seat near the fireplace beside Uncle Benjen whose left hand was bandaged and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Before they could start, the door opened once more and Dany hurried inside, followed by Ser Patreck, Gendry, Nymeria and a passably clean looking Ghost. Uncle Benjen immediately vacated his seat for Daenerys. Mindful of his stitches, Jon smiled lopsidedly at his wife only to have her give him a tense nod in return. Trying not to let it get to him, he forced his eyes to leave her face and allowed them to roam over the other occupants of the room.
  
  Uncle Benjen, Prince Oberyn, Commander Bellmore, Commander Snow, Lord Umber, Ser Brynden, Lord Reed, Ser Gendry, Ser Edric, the High Priestess Kinvara, Thoros of Myr and his cousin Bran had all gathered here to attend this debriefing session. Most of his Kingsguard also remained inside the room. Similar to his uncle, several of the men present were sporting bruises, small cuts or had a body part wrapped in bandages.
  
  Despite being tired, Jon looked forward to the debriefing. This was perhaps the very first time that Jon was grateful for Ser Gerold's compulsion to break down a battle phase by phase. Listening attentively, he soon learned that his Kingsguard and the armies had had their work cut out for them. Due to Jon racing through enemy lines, he had left multiple enemies behind him, leaving his back vulnerable to an attack.
  
  Prince Oberyn's longspear had saved him from an ice spider that was about to jump him from behind. It had been a major feat since it was the first ice spider to have been killed by one well-aimed blow. After the Prince's swift action, his Kingsguard with the assistance of several mounted knights had scattered enough of the enemy's forces to secure a perimeter behind their King as the latter, flanked by his most able swordsmen, kept advancing toward the Night King.
  
  Jon kept silent during this part of the debriefing, grateful that Ser Gerold did not chastise him for taking such a risk. He had counted on his Kingsguard and armies to have his back. In hindsight, he might have been too impetuous but the circumstances had called for it. He had had no choice but to accept the Night King's challenge. Also, he had been certain that every moment he held back, more spiders and wights would have gotten between him and his nemesis. His instincts had driven him forward and it had not taken long for the Night King to consent to a duel. If he had acted differently, his armies most certainly would have suffered heavier losses.
  
  While Ser Gerold was describing how the Kingsguard assisted by several knights not only guarded the King's back with great success but also had managed to clear a space for Rhaegal to land, Jon caught Prince Oberyn's eye and silently thanked him for saving his life. Jon made a mental note to find a suitable reward for the Dornish Prince once they were back in King's Landing. Oberyn merely smirked in response and Jon realised he would be teased and belittled by him each time the Dornish Prince found an eager audience for his war stories.
  
  He was glad to hear that not long after the flames had engulfed him, the two armies had disengaged and had retreated each to their respective sides of the battlefield. Both armies had watched the dancing shadows inside the ball of fire from a respectable distance. Only his Kingsguard and Ser Jaime had been allowed closer; Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, Ser Loras, Ser Patreck and Jaime Lannister had been the only ones to witness what actually happened inside. Even though everything they saw had been contorted by the heat of the dragonfire, they had been able to discern the different phases of his duel.
  
  "The men had to be ordered twice but as they saw the dead retreat as well, they obeyed our-or should I say- your orders, my King, and kept their distance." Ser Gerold informed him, giving him a sour look to convey one last time how reluctant he had been to help recreate his King's vision with great accuracy.
  
  "Tormund gave me a big shiner when I asked him kindly to stay back." Ser Loras took a step forward to show Jon the discolouring around his left eye that looked like it would become quite prominent in a day or so. "He only caught me by surprise because that red spearwife of his distracted me," Loras added when Jon's only reaction was to raise his eyebrow mockingly.
  
  "Tormund Giantsbane and his wife already offered Ser Loras something akin to an apology, my King," Ser Oswell was quick to point out.
  
  Jon looked around suddenly realising that they were a few key figures short. It was rather strange that Tormund had yet to check whether his friend, the dragonrider, was all right. "Does anyone happen to know where Tormund Giantsbane is at the moment?"
  
  "He must still be with Ser Arthur. I asked him to assist your Kingsguard off the battlefield and escort him to the healers. It was the only thing I could think of to keep your wildling friend from barging into that ball of fire to extract you." Ser Gerold answered.
  
  "Why would Tormund agree to leave the battlefield?" Jon asked but before Ser Gerold could respond, he amended his question, "Just how urgently did Ser Arthur need...?" He faltered when something dawned on him. "I vaguely remember hearing someone cry out in pain. Please tell me he is not," Jon swallowed thickly. Ser Arthur's absence during Ser Gerold's debriefing was an ominous sign. "Please, tell me that he only suffered a minor wound."
  
  Ser Gerold looked tense while answering curtly. "Your Kingsguard was pierced twice by an ice spider. His wounds are quite deep, I am afraid. The healers are still stitching him up. I am sure Tormund will bring us news soon."
  
  Jon frantically sifted through his memories. Ser Gerold's explanation had only heightened his worries. "Just before Rhaegar landed, I remember an ice spider lunging toward me and Ser Arthur stepping forward to cut it down. We had incapacitated many spiders before that one." He mentally cursed himself for not realising that Ser Arthur had been in trouble. He had been focussed on the Night King who had been so close that he had barely registered anything else. Not once had it crossed his mind that the vague shout of pain he had heard could come from Ser Arthur. Despite his struggles to remain calm, he managed to formulate respectfully, "Please, don't keep me in the dark any longer, Ser Gerold. How serious is his condition?"
  
  "The ice spider's sharp leg cut straight through his sword arm first and his left foot next before Ser Jaime could come to his aid. According to the Maester, the worst damage was inflicted when the creature pulled his limb out of the wound. It tore through muscle and skin quite brutally. The Maester's initial appraisal is that his right arm might never regain its full dexterity," Ser Gerold sighed. "But we are digressing. We were dealing with another part of the battle."
  
  Jon who had paled considerably allowed his Lord Commander to continue the debriefing as he saw fit. He learned that the Night King's sudden surge of anger had not been in response to any of Jon's actions. It had been provoked by Viserion's arrival on the scene.
  
  Daenerys met his troubled eyes. In hers shone a silent plea. "As Viserion and I arrived on the scene, the first thing we saw was the enemy's position. They all stood at a safe distance from our armies. Not thinking it through, I ordered Viserion to burn as many of them as possible. After that, his flames obstructed my view. That's why it took me a while before I noticed your commanders waving their banners at me, signalling me to halt the attack." Dany's voice was full of remorse and Jon finally understood why she had acted so hesitantly and apologetic earlier.
  
  "The Gods must have ordained it that way, Daenerys." He caught hold of her hand. "Where it is true that your action fuelled the Night King's rage which resulted in me getting this cut," he pointed at the cheek that the Maester had stitched up earlier, "it also resulted in me being able to imbue IceFire with the power of R'hllor." He gave Ser Gerold a stern look hoping the man would not want to discuss this detail further with all of his commanders present. "Only a faint scar will remain if the Maester who tended to me is to be believed. He lifted her hand to his lips and gave her an encouraging smile. "I was able to cut off his hand not long after which uh, startled him quite seriously. So-you actually helped me."
  
  "You can't believe how relieved I am to hear you say that," she whispered softly so only he would hear. The light that now shone in her moist eyes warmed his tired bones. "It is the truth," he answered quietly and averted his eyes. If only they were not in this room with all his commanders following their interactions with curious eyes. He longed to reassure her one hundred per cent and knew the best way to do that was to tell her he loved her, better yet, to show her in a clothing-optional way. Ser Gerold coughed and Jon quickly gestured his Lord Commander to resume the briefing.
  
  Not long after most of the commanders were dismissed and a select group remained behind. Bran or the three-eyed raven confirmed that the thunder they had all heard after King Aegon had cut off the Night King's hand had indeed been a side effect of the Great Other abandoning the Night King.
  
  Ser Gerold nodded. "However, this very act plunged Eastwatch and perhaps a large part of Westeros into utter darkness. We were lucky so many of use carried torches and the battlefield was littered with burning bushes and corpses of wights and undead animals."
  
  "It could have been much worse," Bran's flat voice demanded their attention again. "You see, the Night King made a tactical mistake. He was temporarily blinded by the Great Other's powerful magic. So impressed was he by the fact that his armies could move and fight during the daytime that he chose or perhaps even forgot to use his most powerful weapon which is to invoke the Long Night and cast the world of the living in perpetual darkness. The Night King must have really believed that the Great Other could grant him his ultimate wish, namely the destruction of all living things."
  
  Jon frowned. "Are you implying that the Night King could have deprived us of daylight and warmth for moons on end, like in Old Nan's tales?"
  
  "Yes," his cousin answered without showing any emotion. "We were lucky that he momentarily forgot how daylight and warmth in the long term are as vital to living creatures as food and drink. Still, the very moment that the Great Other abandoned him, the Night King's survival instincts kicked in and he conjured up the Long Night. The entire realm was cast into darkness."
  
  Ser Gerold was quick to reassure his King. "Fortunately, the enchanted chains that the Children of the Forest brought with them rendered the Night King powerless and the darkness lifted soon after. Despite it still being too early for dawn, absence of fog and cloud cover allowed the moonlight to illuminate the battlefield. I could even detect a few stars. I can't recall how long it has been that that was the case."
  
  The moment Ser Gerold fell silent his uncle spoke up. "But then a white fog came rolling in. It stayed low and covered what remained of the enemy's forces. As the white cloud moved backwards toward the eastern shore and past the Wall, it took with it the Night King's generals and all of his remaining forces. As the fog lifted, every last wight, every vile ice spider that was still standing had disappeared from view."
  
  Ser Gerold concurred. "It all happened too fast to have an accurate headcount of the enemy's remaining strength but I believe only a tenth made it safely past the Wall. Many perished when the ice melted and the waves once more broke against the eastern edge of the Wall. Nobody can get past the Wall any longer. Once more the ice structure stands between us and the dead. The remaining White Walkers do not seem powerful enough to freeze over a part of the bay." Apparently, Ser Gerold considered this the end of his part of the briefing since he took a seat.
  
  Jon frowned. "Surely that is not all I need to hear, Ser Gerold? You did not mention how many perished, how many were injured. I trust you must have a rough estimate already." Jon studied his Lord Commander's face, his mind working overtime. When he next spoke, his voice had an edge to it. "Ser Gerold, what happened to Jaime Lannister after he saved my life?"
  
  The Lord Commander had the decency to look chastened. "I apologize, my King. I had thought to tell you more after you had rested. Jaime Lannister suffered serious burns when he jumped into the fire to save you from the Night King's dagger. I am sorry to inform you that the fire of your dragon burned his body beyond recognition. The Maester who examined his remains believes it is possible that he succumbed after knowing he saved you from that dagger. His death was an honourable one, your Grace, and worthy of a Kingsguard. Find solace in the fact that he redeemed himself before he died. Ser Arthur also is probably alive because of him."
  
  Jon swallowed. "And how about the rest of our forces? You must have a rough estimate of the number of casualties?"
  
  "All I can say for now is that all the other commanders are accounted for. The few who sustained injuries will make a full recovery. It is too early to tell whether the other nobles and their sons all made it. I intend to have a reliable estimate of the number of soldiers and spearwives who died or were injured by noon today. I expect our losses will be significantly lower than my projections before the battle."
  
  Jon nodded not needing his Lord Commander to come out and say that his King's much-criticised strategy had paid off in the end. He felt for Jaime Lannister. He had grown to esteem Jaime Lannister as a military commander, a brilliant strategist but also as a man worthy of respect. Many of the men had. Now Jon would never have the opportunity to thank him for his sacrifice and restore his honour. He truly hoped the Maester was right in his assessment and Ser Jaime knew his actions had saved his King's life before he died. He also decided to visit Ser Arthur the moment he woke up.
  
  Most of his commanders left the room. Now that only Dany, his Kingsguard, Bran and Uncle Benjen remained in the room, Jon started to share the confidential parts of the duel before Ser Gerold could ask. He broke down his actions and shared his thought process phase by phase. His audience grew nervous as he explained how some of his bruises were in a way self-inflicted, proving without a doubt that the Night King's fate and his own were irrevocably linked.
  
  "I do not understand," Ser Gerold sounded frustrated. "How is that even possible? I mean, suppose Stannis or Euron had killed you during our battle in the Stormlands, would the Night King have perished as well? Could one of us putting his feelings aside and sacrificing our King have ended the threat beyond the Wall forever because the Night King would have perished at the same time as you did?"
  
  "Over my dead body, you ungrateful fuckers!" Tormund stood in the doorway, his face red with anger. "All of you dumb cunts together are not worth so much as this man's little finger!"
  
  "Tormund, stop!" Jon called out as Tormund charged at Ser Gerold. "We were speaking hypothetically. They won't act upon it. I'll explain it all to you in an instant. But first, tell me, how is Ser Arthur?"
  
  Tormund kept a watchful eye on Ser Gerold. Even as he answered the question he kept his defensive stance in front of Jon. "He'll live," the leader of the Free Folk grumbled. "How well he will recover remains to be seen. The healers have given him milk of the poppy and he is sleeping now. They'll know more in a few days. His muscles might regain most of their functions or they will not. Worst case scenario: he walks with a limp and will have to fight with his left arm." Tormund relaxed his stance and looked at his friend over his shoulder. "Before he passed out your White Knight boasted that he could still defeat me with his left arm if need be." Tormund turned around and faced Jon and his Queen. "Now, my friend it is your turn. Tell me, why your white cunts were talking about killing you hypo-thingially? Hypo... you know- what you just said? And it better be good. I don't need a magical axe to kill them. My bare hands will do just fine!"
  
  "I was just about to explain to Ser Gerold that each injury that the Night King or one of his subjects inflicts on me, he will suffer as well. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true, if I or anyone loyal to me injures the Night King, I receive the same injury. However, should my men or an independent enemy hurt or kill me that will not affect the Night King." Jon turned to lock eyes with Ser Gerold. "So no, Ser Gerold, my getting killed in the Stormlands would not have solved your problem. It would have made matters worse since you would have needed to find another Azor Ahai and would be down one dragonrider." He gestured for Tormund to take a seat.
  
  "I hate to be the one to point this out and I will not allow anyone to act upon it, Nephew, but you must admit that this situation we find ourselves in is rather peculiar. We currently have the Night King in chains and should one of us kill him despite the consequences to uh you, wouldn't he be uh dead, dealt with, never to return, not even in eight thousand years?" His uncle asked looking troubled. Then he scooted back and held his hands up as Tormund growled in his direction. "I said I will not allow anyone to act upon it, Tormund! For the Godssake! He is my blood! I'd rather spill my own!"
  
  Jon had felt Dany stiffen beside him and not minding his audience, he took her shivering hands between his own. "Trust me," he addressed the men in the room, "if I had believed that my death would solve our predicament-well I have an heir. I would have been willing to sacrifice myself."
  
  Tormund started to protest again. Jon tried to silence him with a look, to no avail. "Seems to me we are fucked!" The redhead exclaimed. "We can't kill the fucker without killing you! And they will have to do that over my dead body even if you had sired ten sons, dragonrider! So what is your big genius plan this time?! Do we dig a deep hole and bury him underground while those strange Red Priest and a handful of Children of the Forest perform some more fancy tricks to keep him there for as long as possible?"
  
  Jon looked at Bran who nodded his permission. "The Children of the Forest have a plan. First, we will all rest up and see to our wounded. Tomorrow after dusk, we will take the Night King out of his darkened cell and start to negotiate a truce, one that will last for ten thousand years. At least," he paused for emphasis, " that is what we will make him believe because it will all be a trick, a mummery."
  
  "A truce? Are you kidding me! We defeated the ice fucker! His rotten wights and stupid spiders are trapped behind the Wall! Your dragons can make sure the bay won't freeze over again! What is there left to negotiate?!" Tormund exclaimed before Jon's last words had fully registered in his mind.
  
  "These negotiations are a mummery, Tormund," Jon repeated patiently. "The Priests and the Children of the Forest are looking for the best way to bind him in chains in perpetuity and perhaps your idea of burying him might have some merit. We have to make sure that he will never again be able to gain enough power to start a war with the living ever again."
  
  Thoros jumped up from his chair in the corner and all eyes turned to him. Jon who had his back to him had not even noticed the priest had still been in the room with them. "I have an idea! Why can't we kill both of you? And as the Night King shatters into tiny pieces, we disperse the crystals all around the known world or better yet we ask the dragons to evaporate them and then we resurrect you. I can do it! I brought Lord Dondarrion back more than once."
  
  "It doesn't work that way!" Bran, who had remained stoic during the entire debriefing, showed some emotion for the first time. "The three-eyed raven is sure of it. The Darkness took corporeal form to walk the realm of the living. Its essence won't be destroyed by shattering the Night King's body. The Darkness might need a bit longer to harvest enough power to find or create another vessel that allows him to exist in our realm again but he will eventually rise once more to threaten the living."
  
  All eyes stared at the young Prince. Tormund, in particular, gaped at him as if he had lost his mind. Ser Gerold was the first to recover. "So if I understand correctly, all we can do is buy time, many thousands of years in a best-case scenario. Do you truly wish for us to negotiate with the Night King? Pray, tell me, Prince Bran, what will appease such a creature?"
  
  "We can discuss the details later," Jon declared, his tone final. He didn't want to spell it out that he believed it to be counterproductive to discuss this with so many still present. "We have the upper hand for now and can decide when to start the negotiations. There is time yet. Also, I long for a bath and some food. I am certain that some rest would be welcome to us all. Most of us have been up for an entire day and night, some perhaps even longer. Bran, you always claim how time moves differently for our nemesis. I am sure he won't mind?"
  
  Bran nodded. "The Night King can wait for years if need be. It is wise to start negotiations on our terms when we are fully prepared."
  
  Only Jon and Bran were present during the ' negotiations' with the Night King. The tree-eyed raven had not been dissuaded despite the protests of the Kingsguard. Jon had not been amongst the ones who had protested. He could do without the impromptu outburst of his loyal commanders and friends while dealing with the Night King. He understood that they were worried about him being in here without the protection of a Kingsguard and only a mysterious enchantment keeping the Night King from breaking his chains and fabricating another ice weapon out of thin air. They would have to cope. This was the only way forward.
  
  He only worried about Dany's well-being. She had been pale and withdrawn ever since they had ended the meeting. After they had retired, she had lain in his arms and had limited their conversation by claiming exhaustion. Shortly after, she had been fast asleep. Perhaps all that talk of his death being a possible solution to their current predicament had shaken her.
  
  He prayed that the reason she spoke so little wasn't that she was still angry with him. They had spoken long enough to discuss his departure and she had reassured him that she understood why he had left Castle Black without saying goodbye even going as far as to admit that she might have done the same if their roles had been reversed. Maybe she truly was more exhausted than him. He had noticed that she had lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes. Once again he felt a wave of guilt. It was only because he had left her to defend Castle Black with one dragon that had made it necessary for her to take on double shifts and skip several scheduled periods of rest.
  
  But now was not the time to dwell on the reason for Dany's state of health. He needed a clear mind. It didn't help that the negotiations were leading nowhere. It had taken them the better part of the first night to convince the Night King that all the parties necessary to reinstate the old Pact were present at Eastwatch. Jon had paraded them before his nemesis one by one and had shown him all the elements they had brought to Eastwatch. Even Ghost had briefly entered the room and Jon had been obliged to warg into his direwolf for a short time and give him a firm mental nudge to persuade his wolf to leave his side again.
  
  This second night, he and his cousin were attempting to convince the Night King that treating with them was his only option. But no matter what they tried, the Night King kept refusing to reinstate the Old Pact without radically changing its terms. It had taken them a while to understand the Night King's state of mind. The ice creature held firm in his belief that only sheer luck had ended the long period of hibernation that the Old Pact had forced on him for eight thousand years. If the Pact had not been severely weakened by its instigators' waning powers he would never have awoken.
  
  They had not been able to keep from him that the Children of the Forest and the Giants were almost extinct. The Night King already knew that prior to his reappearance the First Men had lost all memory of his existence. He was convinced that that feat and the fact that magic was all but ignored in Westeros was the only reason that he had regained his powers 'And you,' the Night King had pointed at Jon as he put the thought in their heads, 'You would never have been born.'
  
  In the end, Jon assisted by Bran had come up with new terms and shown the drawings to the Night King. They offered him sanctuary on a small island, in the middle of the Lands of Always Winter that the Children of the Forest would create with the assistance of the dragons and the Red God's magic. It was a large enough piece of frozen land, separated from the rest of the far North by broad enchanted streams on all sides. As long as the Night King promised not to try and use his powers to affect anything that lived beyond his assigned territory, Azor Ahai and his allies would allow him to dwell there unhindered.
  
  The Night King had considered that their opening bid and had countered with terms of his own. His demands were outrageous. Even toned down, there was still no way that Jon or anyone else for that matter would entertain them. Firstly, the ice creature had demanded that all criminals sentenced to death be sent to him instead of to the Wall. Secondly, he asked for a new-born baby boy once every few moons. The Night King had smirked as he put the thought in Jon's head that he would drop this last demand in exchange for the second son that would soon be born to the King of Ice and Fire. Jon had needed all his self-restraint to prevent himself from fetching IceFire and running the Night King through. He had suspended the negotiations and had sought Ser Arthur's company for a while. It had taken him an entire day to regain enough of his composure to resume the negotiations.
  
  When he sad opposite the Night King once more, Jon had irrevocably refused to hand over any baby to the Night King, be it one his blood or another. The Night King had expected no less and had a new demand at the ready. 'I will concede if the King of Ice and Fire freely gives me a cup of his lifeblood while it is still warm.'
  
  Jon pursed his lips. He exchanged a look with Bran who nodded. It was time to play their last card. He fixed the Night King with a stern stare and sent the thought to him. 'We have found a way to annihilate you once and for all. If you do not agree to our conditions, we will take steps to ban all magic from the realms of the living. Wargs will lose their powers, Red Priests, the Children of the Forest and all others have agreed to give up their magic as well. As a direct result, the Gods will no longer be able to contact our realm. I am fully aware of what I am giving up and shall do so willingly: the green dreams, the link that I share with my dragons and my direwolf, my resistance to ice and fire. But it will all be worth it in the end because blood magic, red magic, dark magic, all magic will cease to exist in this realm and so will you since without magic you are nothing more than an empty vessel!'
  
  Bran nodded keeping his face even. As planned, both men partially sealed their minds, allowing the Night King only a limited glimpse. As the Night King remained silent, Jon rose, leaving the large scroll filled with pictures explaining the amended terms of the Pact on the table in front of the Night King. 'I will allow you until dusk to agree to our terms.'
  
  Three sennights later at Winterfell.
  
  It was the first time since Jon's rite of passage journey that the five young men were all gathered in the same room and toasted to each other's health. It was the night before Lady Shireen's wedding to Lord Domeric of House Newton and also the night before Prince Eddard of House Stark would formally announce the betrothal of his daughter, Princess Sansa to Ser Edric of House Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Jon, Robb, Gendry and Sam had thrown this impromptu celebration as the pact's way of celebrating Edric's victory, knowing full well how difficult it had been for the young man to get Prince Eddard to agree to this betrothal.
  
  Jon had been surprised when Sam had shown up out of the blue. His friend had intended to help conduct the negotiations with the Night King having found some additional information but had arrived too late. Jon was pleased however that now that Sam had made it to Winterfell, the five of them were finally reunited and could celebrate amongst themselves.
  
  "Is it true that he just disappeared without leaving a trace?" Edric asked after Jon had told them how the negotiations with the Night King had come to an abrupt ending.
  
  Jon nodded. "When Bran and I returned there was no trace of him. Either he gave up and disintegrated into thin air or whatever is the equivalent of suicide for a magical ice creature, or he can travel as something akin to air and regain corporeal form once he is in a safe environment again. Either way, we sealed off the room and conducted a thorough search. I even ordered as many men in the cell as it could hold, leaving no room for anyone else to be there, invisible or otherwise."
  
  "I heard rumours that a new ice dome has been spotted on that new island that appeared in the northeast of the Lands of Almost Winter." Robb remarked.
  
  "Also true," Jon confirmed. "The new three-eyed raven was the one who told me that. Only she is not sure whether the dome is a refuge for the remaining wights and White Walkers or whether the Night King has found a way to join them there. She will keep monitoring the situation."
  
  "I talked to Bran earlier," Sam hesitated but Jon silently permitted him to continue. "He claims he no longer is the three-eyed raven and his eyesight is improving each day." Sam's voice was filled with wonder.
  
  Jon smiled. "That was the most wonderful gift Priestess Melisandre could give us. Even if I accepted her help, I never grew to like her." He exchanged a glance with Gendry who nodded, both men remembering Gendry's half-brother, Edric Storm, and Lord Beric Dondarrion, two of the many victims that the Red Priestess had burned while still under the misconception that the false King Stannis was Azor Ahai.
  
  "But she found a way to redeem herself. I knew she had been intrigued by the vast knowledge that the three-eyed raven had access to and had hardly left Bran's side at Castle Black. But never could I have imagined that she would offer herself as a vessel for the three-eyed raven. She gave Bran his life back. And for that, I will forever be grateful to her. We remain in contact. She now holds one of the magic candles."
  
  "Would you truly have given up your magic, your dragons, your connection with Ghost?" Robb asked. He sounded put out, even a little bit accusing.
  
  "No, but not necessarily because I didn't want to. Fortunately, I never had to make that decision, because we made all of that up. It was all a big mummery. We bluffed, lied and acted without honour, but it worked! We succeeded in tricking the Night King!"
  
  "Or you think you did," Edric protested. "Only the Gods know what happened in that room after you left."
  
  "Maybe the Gods don't know either," Sam logical as always couldn't resist to point out. "Wouldn't they have granted Azor Ahai a vision if that were the case?"
  
  "The Children of the Forest and the three-eyed raven have the means to contact us now," Jon spoke calmly to reassure his friends. "Sam here, will record everything that happened and make sure the acolytes at the Citadel copy it multiple times and send this knowledge to all existing libraries. We will make sure that what happened during the Great War is taught in the schools that Dany and I will erect in all our Kingdoms, schools similar to the ones that we have already established in King's Landing. Every child, before reaching its maturity, will learn about the Night King and the Great War that we fought and won! Each new generation in my Kingdoms will be taught how to read and write and know the most important parts of our history. The existence of the dead will never again be lost as easily as it has been before."
  
  "As will the tales of your reign, oh valiant, wise and bloodless King Aegon." Sam smiled at Jon. "I am sure that not only books about your life will still exist thousands of years from now, but bards will still be singing songs of your most heroic deeds."
  
  "I didn't do it alone." Jon objected. "I will make sure the songs reflect that fact. But please, enough talk of the Great War!" Jon raised his cup of ale. "We came here to celebrate Ser Edric's betrothal. He finally got my uncle's consent and will marry my cousin Sansa in a moon's time."
  
  "To the Sword of the Morning!" Gendry shouted in response. "Bottoms up!" And the five young men drank to the health of Lord Edric of House Dayne who only this morning had officially been ordained as the Sword of the Morning, receiving the famous sword Dawn from the hands of his uncle, Ser Arthur.
  
  Jon and Ser Arthur had grown even closer since his injury. Jon had not relented until his former mentor, best friend and loyal Kingsguard had accepted to resign his place in the Kingsguard. Ser Gendry had already promised to forge him a new sword made of Valyrian Steel using the mold he had made from Dawn. Of course, Ser Arthur would retain his knightly title but now was also entitled to call himself King Aegon's Master of Politics and would accompany his King on all his travels, acting as his confidante and as the proxy of the Hand of the King each time Lord Seaworth needed to stay behind in King's Landing to govern the realm during the King and Queen's absence. They were talking of undertaking a Grand Tour of the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  "Who will be the next one to become betrothed?" Edric asked while Robb refilled their cups.
  
  "That's a simple question!" Sam laughed. "My path leads elsewhere. The only remaining candidate is Gendry!"
  
  "Seeing how Arya jumped into our dark-haired friend's strong arms even before Sansa could get halfway to her beloved Edric," Robb blinked his eyes seductively and pretended to swoon, "I believe we won't have to wait long." He had been teasing the two men at each opportunity he got. "My father is already on board so my future good-brother from the Stormlands won't have that obstacle." Robb raised his cup in Gendry's direction.
  
  "No," Jon joined the teasing. "Ser Gendry faces a far bigger quest: gaining Princess Arya's consent!"
  
  "Aye," Robb agreed, "That is a steep challenge that our most valiant Ser Gendry needs to overcome. Perhaps he should ask for our assistance?"
  
  Gendry blushed. "I, uh she, we uh sort of have an understanding. Before I return to King's Landing, I obtained Princess Arya's consent to ask Prince Eddard for a formal courtship that shall last two years. Princess Arya will make her decision known at the end of that term. That way, both she and Prince Eddard won't be bothered by other suitors and I am a step closer to my goal!"
  
  "To Gendry and Arya!" Edric raised his up. "And to our friendship! May our pact never be broken!"
  
  After they had all emptied their cups once more, Gendry touched Jon's arm and spoke quietly. "Arya and I will need your support though. Arya wishes to live in King's Landing for the next two years. She proposes to teach swordplay to the children attending your schools. She hopes that if you break the news to her father, making him believe that you thought of it first,... uh, and it also would be easier for us to uh to have a real courtship since I plan to spend most of that time in King's Landing. I will also listen to any advice you are willing to share with me. She likes you and I really want Arya to agree to marry me at the end of our two-year betrothal." Gendry finished that last part a bit flustered.
  
  Jon was quick to reassure his friend. "I'll have your back, Gendry. I'll do what I can, but my uncle will not be fooled. He will know that the idea was Arya's all along. Still, you are quite a catch these days, a future High Lord. Besides, I truly believe that my uncle has Arya's best interest in mind. He might jump at the idea of having her live with Dany and me in the capital. Right now, the situation with her mother is not ideal. He told me he is doing his utmost to shield his children from their mother's irate behaviour. Aunt Catelyn not only refuses to see them, but she also protests that they aren't hers and called them despicable bastards to their faces at least once that my uncle knows of."
  
  Jon gave Gendry's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Keep that last part between us for now though. We are doing our utmost to keep the specifics of her condition from becoming common knowledge, but it might help you to understand why Arya might react strangely at times and grow angry or act hurt all of a sudden. The only reason I know so much was that I was present while Lord Reed offered to take Bran to the Isle of the Faces. My uncle agreed before Lord Reed had finished explaining. The man hadn't even started to lay out how he believes that the Old Gods are strongest there and can help Bran not only to fully regain his eyesight but also to make him forget some of what happened to him and restore most of his humanity."
  
  "That is happy news indeed!" Gendry forgot to lower his voice for a moment.
  
  Jon looked at Robb, Edric and Sam and was reassured when his friends remained oblivious as they were hanging onto each word that Robb was uttering. Jon needed only to hear one sentence to recognise the exaggerated version of a story that Jon had heard at least twice before. He touched his lips to warn Gendry to keep his voice down.
  
  "I found it strange that Prince Eddard was so quick to agree. After Lord Reed left the solar, I asked my uncle about it and that's when he told me of the extent of Aunt Catelyn's condition in confidence. But as you are about to become my good-brother..."
  
  Gendry was about to protest that nothing was set in stone yet but Jon shook his head. "Don't you dare to deny it! Arya confessed to me that she allowed you to kiss her. It took some prodding before she revealed the exact circumstances. I don't hold it against you and won't tell Robb-yet but I believe that you are the only suitor that stands a chance to break down her resistance. For you, she will eventually give up her freedom, maybe even carry your children before her hair turns grey. Her words, not mine," he chuckled. "Besides she told me she won't be giving anything up. You promised her she wouldn't have to. She would only bind her best friend to her until death do you part ." He concluded with a big grin on his face.
  
  A roar of laughter heralded the end of Robb's tale. Jon leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat to attract the others' attention. "Let's toast once more to Gendry and Arya, but first and foremost to Edric and Sansa!"
  
  We have all come a long way since the five of us met, haven't we?" Gendry stated when everyone fell silent again. "Jon Celtigar, a small lord of a house most of us never had never even heard of; Sam here, disinherited by his Lord Father and forced to head north to become a miserable recruit of the Night's Watch; Edric and Robb even as they were entitled to a lordship were still too young to have much consequence back then; and I, well, I was the odd one out, a bastard who didn't know who sired him and at the time was a lowly apprentice who had recently lost his position."
  
  "Indeed!" Robb took over. "And now, lo and behold: Jon Celtigar not only revealed his birthright but managed to be crowned the King of the Seven Kingdoms, married an exotic beauty who happens to be smitten with him, befriended the Free Folk, hatched dragons and won the Great War if not in that exact order. Lord Sam of House Tarly is a trusted adviser of said King and well on his way to becoming the youngest Grand Maester these Kingdoms have ever seen. The aforementioned lowly bastard apprentice has become a knight of the realm, is one of the King's best friends, heir to the Stormlands and as good as betrothed to the daughter of a high lord. And next to him, my friend, Lord Dayne, not only knighted for his heroic deeds during the war in the Stormlands but now also carrying the famed title of Sword of the Morning. He also is a hero of the War for the Dawn and is actually-sorry for that Gendry-betrothed to the daughter of a high Lord, who for reasons I still don't quite understand adores him. And last but not least, there is me, a powerful Prince of the North, heir to the biggest Kingdom of them all, a great military leader and a few other troublesome responsibilities I won't trouble you with right now! Suffice it to say that I am married to a highborn wife and have a second child on the w-oops! Please, my fellow pact members, forget that last part. That is still supposed to be a secret between the wife and me!"
  
  "Let's toast to these achievements in and outside Robb's bedroom. Bottoms up!" Gendry shouted out his voice rising above the hoots of laughter and well-wishes.
  
  "It is a good thing that the wedding of Lord Newton and Lady Baratheon will be held at dusk tomorrow," Edric whispered to Jon as he placed his empty cup on the table. "Help me not to get overly drunk, please? I don't want Prince Eddard to have an excuse to call off my betrothal to Princess Sansa."
  
  "That may be too difficult a task, even for one with royal authority. How can we avoid getting drunk with all these toasts?" Jon put an arm around Edric's shoulder. "Don't worry, Edric, I will get you to the Godswood on time and make sure you remain on your feet! Ghost can help support your other side. I'll make sure that Prince Stark won't notice a thing."
  
  Sam handed Edric a new cup of ale. "One of my acolytes has a nephew who brews ale that tastes almost similar but doesn't get you drunk. I brought some so you all wouldn't succeed in making me drink more than I can handle. Here Edric, I will make sure to refill your cup from now on!"
  
  "Thanks, Sam! You are the best. To our friend, Samwell!" Edric toasted loudly and drank deeply with a free conscience.
  
  "Just doing what I can for a pact member," Sam muttered, happier than he had been in a long time. Even the rarest books in the Citadel couldn't replace the warm feeling that rose in his chest. It felt so very nice to be wholeheartedly accepted by this group of noble friends. Jon smiled at him and he raised his cup. The two of them drank simultaneously.
  
  "To the pact!" Robb roared this time and all five emptied their cups obediently.
  
  Now it was Jon's turn to propose a toast. He lifted the cup that Sam had refilled after exchanging a meaningful glance. "Let us drink to our next pact reunion. I will hold you all to your promise to be present if not actually enter the grand tourney in King's Landing to celebrate our great victory as well as the birth of Prince Aemon and as my wife insists, also my 19th nameday that has come and gone unnoticed amid all our war preparations. You will receive an official royal summons Sam, one that the Citadel won't be able to put aside. We will hold our next Pact reunion in a few moons time!"
  
  "Hear, hear!" They all shouted as they raised their cups.
  
  "And here's to our promise to never part ways before making concrete plans for a next reunion!" Jon emptied his cup and put it upside down on the table.
  
  "To the pact!" They all shouted in agreement and followed suit.
  
  It felt good to be warm through and through, well-rested and have servants attend to your every whim. Jon felt happy and relaxed as he lay in a large featherbed in one of Winterfell's most luxurious rooms with Dany still sleeping in his arms. Ever since there were no more wars or other threats hanging over their heads, he and Dany once again enjoyed their couplings without restraint. He thanked the Gods every night for blessing his marriage with love and passion.
  
  Through the small windows, he could see enough of the sky to recognise the red glow of the dawn. It brought back memories of the ceremony he had held at Eastwatch to honour all the fallen and thank the survivors for fighting by his side. He had made sure to include honourable mentions of the more prominent members of the Free Folk who had given their lives as well. Wun Wun had been one of them. The giant had been attacked by dozens of ice spiders simultaneously and had succumbed after putting up a brave fight.
  
  He had sent a raven to Commander Pyke ordering him to conduct a similar ceremony to thank the heroes who had survived and remember the ones who perished. All forts had been allowed to feast for two days after hearing of the victory of the living. Afterwards, he had sent the ravens containing his orders to disband the united royal armies and only keep a minor force at each fort. All southerners were free to go home. By now, the united royal army had been disbanded. Only a small number of volunteers remained at the Wall a bit longer to assist the Night's Watch until the new recruits arrived. Tormund had offered the assistance of his people but only if absolutely necessary.
  
  Prince Robb had been given the task to work together with Commander Pyke to the remaining soldiers over the different forts for the time being. But most of his forces were well on their way home by now.
  
  Jon would be as well in a matter of days. He had much to look forward to. Soon his little family would be reunited. This was one of their last days in the North. Most of his guards and entourage had left yesterday and were also on their way to King's Landing. Uncle Benjen had delayed his departure, he would stay until Sansa's wedding and would travel south with Arya and Gendry. Sam had also been persuaded to stay a bit longer and would accompany them on the first leg of their journey.
  
  Several months ago, while Dany was on bedrest, heavy with their first child, they had drafted a new concept for the Night's Watch together. If the living won the Great War, the Night's Watch would no longer have a higher purpose. At that time they had presumed the threat would be non-existent by then and if they did nothing else changed, it would become no more than a pitiful penal colony. Jon and Dany had developed a whole new concept for the Night's Watch and had presented it to their council. If it all worked out, the men sent there to serve a sentence would make out only a small minority of the forces manning the Wall.
  
  Now that the threat had been contained, Jon and Dany could start to put in motion the plans to give a new purpose to the many forts that they had worked so hard to restore. They would be turned into military camps, or perhaps military schools was a better term. Each young man celebrating his fifteenth nameday would be offered the opportunity to spend one to five years at the Wall. There the young men that accepted would receive a formal military training, all expenditures paid for by the Crown. Besides learning from very skilled teachers how to wield a sword, a lance and other weapons of their choosing, they would be educated in a wide variety of subjects. Most probably, for the first few years, many of the recruits would still be unable to read or write upon arrival and would be taught that as well.
  
  Those who graduated with honours would carry the title of corporal and aside from being decorated by the King in person, those who applied for it would also receive the assistance of the King's administrators to find decent work as a houseguard. The few who had followed an apprenticeship for several years and had proven to possess the necessary skills would receive a small stipend to set up a workshop or trade. The ones who stayed for several years and excelled in the military disciplines would be offered positions in the royal guard if they so wished.
  
  As far as the hierarchy at the Wall was concerned, Fort Commanders would still be elected as before but only for a term of five years. Afterwards, they could enter their candidacy for re-election. All candidates for the post of Fort Commander needed to have served at least five years as a man of the Night's Watch to be eligible for the post. Jon had assured Dany that Fort Commanders who had served out their term and were replaced by someone else would not have trouble finding a meaningful occupation elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms.
  
  Of course, it would take some time to implement all these changes but Jon had opted not to delay the pardons. Political prisoners had been released from their vows mere days after the Night King had been defeated. Those sent to the Wall for minor offences like for example stealing food without causing bodily harm to a person had been released if they had served for at least a year. Jon and Dany had taken great care in drawing up a comprehensive list with the most common offences and their respective punishments. Each pardon was contingent on the man's behaviour during his time spent at the Wall. Valour and bravery during the Great War were also heavily factored in.
  
  Jon felt Dany move, a sign that she was waking up and kissed her brow. "Did you sleep well, my love?"
  
  "I did, Husband. Nice of you to ask," Dany answered her voice still hoarse from sleep. "I dreamt we were back in King's Landing and Maester Pylos confirmed," she halted mid-sentence and bit her lip.
  
  "Dany?" Jon asked not masking his excitement. "When was the last time you had your moonblood?"
  
  "It is way too early to tell, Aegon, only five sennights. But," her eyes mirrored his hopeful expression.
  
  "I could ask Sam," Jon started but Dany silenced him with a kiss. "It is too early, even for Sam."
  
  "Just promise me, you will take care." he pleaded as he tightened his embrace.
  
  "Always! I want this as much as you do." She welcomed his ardent kiss and not much was spoken for a while. Sweaty and with her thighs still sticky with her husband's seed, Dany was the first to speak again. "My love?"
  
  "Anything," Jon promised promptly. "Anything you wish, just ask!"
  
  Dany smiled at his ardour. "Could we leave soon? I so long to see our little Aemon again. I hate to think of how much he has grown these last few sennights and how we much we have missed of his development."
  
  Jon turned on his side to face her. "We can leave today," he conceded immediately. "I'll inform my uncle. We can leave as soon as we have said your goodbyes. But for now, let's linger a while longer? It is still early. I'll have a maid bring us some food and we can break our fast in bed. We don't have to pack much. Most of our belongings have been shipped off already."
  
  "Thank you, Aegon! You truly are a dear! Even if we lost our throne, had to move to Essos and we both were obliged to perform manual labour all day every day to provide for our family, having you and Aemon beside me would make it all worth it to me. I love both of you more than I have ever loved anything else!"
  
  "You say that now," Jon teased but then continued in a more serious tone. "Me too. We are lucky this way. If only more marriages in our Kingdoms would resemble ours." He sighed. "I used to admire Uncle Ned for making the best of his marriage but despite all his efforts, his relationship with his wife only became nice, and as far as I know after two decades of marriage they never reached the level of understanding, respect and intimacy that we reached already on our wedding day. And now, with his wife's condition, he is trapped. His honour won't allow him to set her aside and take another wife."
  
  "Is it true that Princess Catelyn's family has offered to care for her at Riverrun?" Dany asked.
  
  "Yes. Uncle Ned is considering it. Aunt Catelyn only remembers her childhood now and might be more at ease there. She is unhappy at Winterfell and still doesn't want to acknowledge her children. He had hoped she would make an effort to learn their names and grow to care for them once more but she won't try. It is hard on my cousins. Fortunately, Sansa will leave soon for King's Landing and afterwards will settle in Dorne. I have asked Uncle Ned to send Arya with them to King's Landing. However, he will only allow it if he can formally announce her betrothal to Ser Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to Storm's End and future Lord Paramount of the Stormlands." Jon sighed.
  
  "I thought that was Princes Catelyn's influence?" Dany remarked.
  
  "I thought so as well at first. But I have given my uncle's sometimes stubborn behaviour a lot of thought these past few moons. I have concluded that he is not as adaptable to change as one would wish. He is rather set in his ways and resists anything that might change his precious North, even after we have proven beyond a doubt that the change would greatly benefit the North."
  
  "I reckon he still hasn't agreed to your solution for the Company of the Rose then?" She asked.
  
  "Actually, he finally did! The deeds were signed late yesterday evening. I don't think my uncle made a friend of Commander Snow though. Luckily I could persuade my uncle to delegate all future relations with Commander Snow to my cousin Robb. He and Commander Snow are on cordial terms. It was the only way to get Commander Snow to agree to some of Lord Stark's restrictions on trade relations with Essos. We added a codicil that those terms were only valid for three years. After that, Prince Robb will have the authority to renegotiate them with Commander Snow. His father can only exert veto power if he obtains royal support."
  
  "And Commander Snow knows he can count on you to have his back!" Dany exclaimed smiling broadly.
  
  "On us!" Jon corrected her. "He counts on both of us. I was asked to relay his thanks to you in case he couldn't find an opportunity to see you in person before we left."
  
  Dany stared at him wordlessly asking him to explain further.
  
  "I intended to ask if you were willing to leave today." Jon gave her a smile full of mischief when she playfully hit his chest. "But I enjoyed your naked thank you just now too much to come forward with that small piece of information."
  
  "You owe me for this." She threatened playfully.
  
  "You can collect this debt any day love," Jon said. After he made a show of checking his loins, he added, "Maybe not right now though. I don't think my body is up for it again. You woke me up one time too many this night."
  
  "I didn't hear you complain. Besides, after all those awkward, hurried couplings in Castle Black and East Watch, it is nice to have a bed made for more than one person at our disposal and not have to keep in mind that one of us will have to leave our bed soon to fight another shift."
  
  "Not to mention that the walls of Winterfell are even thicker than those of the Red Keep. I enjoy making you scream my name." Jon absently stroked her belly.
  
  "I also enjoyed their warmth," Dany responded as she put her hand over his.
  
  "Do you like this bed more than our gigantic four-poster in the Red Keep?" Jon taunted.
  
  "Never!" Dany smiled. "That bed contains memories of the three of us sleeping in it. No bed in the realm can top that."
  
  "We'll sleep in it again very soon, my love. Our work here is done. Tormund signed last night as well. It almost resembled his name."
  
  "I never doubted it," Dany commented. "For that treaty, we didn't need the Warden of the North's consent. It merely lays out the future relationship between the Crown and the Free Folk. I am confident that that was one of the easiest meetings you ever attended."
  
  "It helped that Tormund was officially nominated to represent all the clans after they learned that Mance had died. With him acting as their spokesperson and his hero worship of me, I could have persuaded him to kneel if I wanted. But I did as we agreed: I only asked for a military alliance." Jon declared with confidence. "Also, the Gift is under the jurisdiction of the Night Watch and the Crown has taken full financial responsibility for their workings. Commander Pyke offered no resistance whatsoever and seemed ready to sign any deal that I deemed reasonable. Even the one potentially ending his reign in twelve moons time when we will hold elections for all the forts."
  
  "So the version that Tormund signed was identical to the one we drafted?" Dany asked. She had excused herself from the negotiations, stating that she had too little time to spend with her good family and was confident that could handle the negotiations with Tormund and the Night's Watch on his own.
  
  Jon nodded. "We only made a few minor additions. At first, the Free Folk will all remain south of the Wall. They have vowed to cultivate as much land as they can manage and will see to it that the Gift yields a record crop. That will greatly benefit the Night's Watch as they will a third of it for the first two crops. Afterwards, the Free Folk will be able to retain eighty per cent. After five years both parties will re-evaluate. I have consented to act as mediator during these talks. We kept the same amount of livestock the Crown will gift to repopulate the lands north of the Wall. Tormund had no qualms to make the necessary promises you insisted on. He faithfully promised that his people will adhere to our laws as long as dwell south of the wall. He will deal harshly with any attempted raids."
  
  "His people will learn to trade for what they need and he promised to ask for our support if they lacked resources before the first crops are ready to be harvested. He insisted that the Free Folk will only agree to be indebted to the dragonrider and his Queen but will not accept anything from the Warden of the North. If the Northern Kingdom offers him things, the Free Folk will trade for them fair and square."
  
  "I hope you did not amend the clause dealing with wife-stealing?" Dany asked when her husband fell silent.
  
  "Not a syllable!" Jon reassured her quickly. "Wife stealing will still be permitted as long as they choose amongst their own, no stealing of ' southern' wives. Also, Tormund assured me that they will resume their nomad lifestyle come spring. The Free Folk clans will be eager to return to their lands after the dragons melt the ice in the tunnels as we have promised to do. They will take turns populating the Gift." He looked at her sheepishly. "I might also have agreed to be his guest at regular intervals and attend a feast or two."
  
  Dany arched her brow. "I hope for your sake that the invitation included me?"
  
  "And our ten sons," Jon chuckled. "Of course. If you were not the wife of his dearest friend, he claims he would have put Ygritte aside and stolen you. I answered that I don't believe he would have lived long enough for that." They both burst out laughing.
  
  Jon regained his serious mien first. "I added one clause to the treaty stipulating that Tormund Giantsbane at this time and his successors in future are responsible to keep the Free Folk far away from the Lands of Always Winter. The Crown, in turn, promises to keep the leader of the Free Folk informed of anything we learn from the three-eyed raven and the Children of the Forest concerning our mutual enemy."
  
  "I should have thought of that," Dany commented. "How did he react to the schools?"
  
  "I had some trouble explaining what the term school meant at first. But in the end, he agreed to encourage the young men and women of the Free Folk to sign up for a twelve-moon period after their fifteenth nameday. He did warn us that it was not always possible to determine the exact age of their youngsters."
  
  "I am a bit surprised that he agreed so readily to send his youth to be taught by southerners. Tormund must blindly trust you." She added.
  
  Jon shook his head. "To be honest, it was Robb who came up with the best arguments of all. He told Tormund in no uncertain terms that it would be plain stupid to turn down such an opportunity for his people. Not only would it greatly benefit the Free Folk to learn how to read and write, but also they would have free shelter and food for at least twelve moons, all provided by the dragonrider who asks for nothing in return. And most of all they could kick the southerners to the ground during training sessions as many times as they could manage without getting punished for it."
  
  "That was smart of him. I don't think Tormund needed more than your assurances but he can use these arguments to convince his young warriors and spearwives or should I say speargirls? Have I told you that I like and respect your eldest cousin very much?" Dany asked him with a straight face.
  
  "Should I be jealous?" Jon asked keeping his tone light. "I hope your feelings are cousinly. Robb only has eyes for his Dacey, who by the way, is expecting to feel the quickening any day now. You were right. They are expecting their second child. Robb spilt the news two nights ago after a few too many toasts. But don't tell Dacey. He greatly fears her wrath!"
  
  "It was rather obvious to me knowing what to look for. But Robb should be worried. Dacey can't reproach him. You see, she told me herself the first time we were able to talk privately. Tell him that if it will ease his mind."
  
  "I can't help but notice that you didn't answer my first question." Jon stroked her belly. "If you could choose between me and Robb?"
  
  "That is because I thought it was a rhetorical question, my ignorant husband! I would never forsake you for Prince Robb or anyone else," Dany lovingly cupped his face between her hands. "Why would I? Except for those stupid wars, our life together has been wonderful and I had this dream that seemed almost real..."
  
  Jon couldn't help but be intrigued. He turned his face to kiss one of her hands. "A dream, Dany? What was it about?"
  
  "It was about us, about our extended family. I delivered twins in my dream and three more children after that."
  
  Jon looked at her strangely. "The twins were girls with silver hair, the three younger children, all boys, two had my hair colour, the youngest had silver hair that curled adorably."
  
  "How did you kn... Aegon, you had the same dream?! Do you know what that means?! Chances are that this is not some unimportant, wishful dream after all. Can it truly be a prophetic dream?" She held on to him for all she was worth, her eyes pleading with him not to tease her this time.
  
  "Right this instant, I am inclined to believe so." Jon gave her a wan smile. "Now that the living have prevailed, the Gods grant us visions of the future again. The three-eyed raven shared some of hers with me as well. I was going to tell you but... ," he hesitated. "I preferred to do it once we were back in King's Landing."
  
  "Because it wasn't all good news?" She asked apprehensively.
  
  "That is how you may choose to look at it." Jon formulated carefully. "I believe things are as they should be."
  
  "Aegon, please don't keep me in suspense," she pleaded.
  
  "All right," he said. "No secrets, only honesty."
  
  "Now and always," she agreed.
  
  "The three-eyed raven saw random snippets. One was of the first tournament that we will hold in King's Landing. We were unveiling a big monument to honour the fallen. The second was of Princess Arianne sending a raven with a request for the dragons to come south to help defend their shores from pirates. The next one you will like, Tormund and Mag the Mighty will visit King's Landing sometime in the future and bring direwolf puppies for our children."
  
  Dany squeezed his hands to show him how much she enjoyed that vision. But Jon remained serious. He lowered his voice. "Finally, she told me of a vision of the black egg. The children I once saw playing with it were our descendants, that part is true but it were not our grandchildren. The vision didn't give an exact estimate of how many generations there were between these children and us but she believes it will be many. The three-eyed raven predicts that the egg will only hatch if a new dragon is necessary to ensure the balance between good and evil. She further counselled us not to abuse our dragons' power because each time we use it to fight or destroy, whatever essence remains of the Darkness may grow stronger ."
  
  "Does that mean that she has found evidence that the Night King lives on?" Dany asked wide-eyed.
  
  "No, but the universe always finds a way to maintain the balance in the end. If we exhibit too much power, evil will have to grow more powerful as a consequence. Even if the Night King is no more perhaps one of his generals can take on his role or an entirely different threat may arise. There are more stories and prophesies floating around. The Ironborn talk of a powerful Kraken roaming the seas, in Essos there are prophecies predicting the birth of a wizard with unlimited powers. There also is the Great Other whose fate and whereabouts remain unknown."
  
  "Aegon, isn't that all a bit farfetched? And the Great Other, you assured me it is almost impossible for a God to enter the realm of the living?"
  
  "I agree that it all sounds ridiculous. But what if it is partly true? What if we can prevent all this by ruling justly and refraining from using the power of our dragons when there are other possibilities? The three-eyed raven warned us that the Gods could take the dragons from us should they jeopardise the equilibrium we've reached. I will not risk them, Dany! They mean more to me than mere tools to win wars and keep our subjects subdued! They are living beings I have raised and love dearly! They are a part of our family!" Jon had grown frantic.
  
  "It is not me you have to convince, Aegon! I love Viserion as if he was our child, Rhaegal as well. I would never risk them." She kissed him. "How about asking a servant to bring some food? I am positively starving."
  
  They talked of lighter subjects whilst breaking their fast at a small but nice table in their room. "I am looking forward to organising the first tournament where we will hand out the Ser Barristan the Bold Trophy. Day 500 would have been the ideal moment, but since the Great War started later than we predicted, that day has come and gone." Dany remembered the banners she had been designing while she was heavy with child. She would have to throw them all out and start anew.
  
  "How about day 600?" she heard Aegon propose. "It is not as poetic a figure but at least it is easy to remember."
  
  "We can announce that date to our small council. I believe they can get it organised by then," she exclaimed enthusiastically. Perhaps she could still use most of her designs that way with only a few minor adjustments
  
  "Despite the delay, we will wait to unveil the large monument in remembrance of all the fallen heroes and still do it at the start of the tournament, Dany, just as you envisioned it. We can assign Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn the task of collecting as many names of the soldiers who perished in the Great War, regardless of their status of birth. We will also include the names of men and women of the Free Folk who gave their lives. The monument must be large enough to contain all the names. I was appalled to hear how many froze to death without a single battle injury. I learned yesterday evening that Theon Greyjoy, brother to our ally Lady Yara of House Greyjoy who was sentenced to the wall for aiding Ramsey Snow with the kidnapping of Cousin Robb was one of the men that froze to death without participating in a single battle."
  
  "Will you include his name as well?" She asked.
  
  Jon hesitated. "I will leave that decision up to Robb. We can always add his name somewhere high up where no one can read it?"
  
  "Next to the bastards and Free Folk, I suppose." Dany voiced her discontent. "How long until Westeros will be ready to accept a decree, banning the term bastard and obliging all parents to provide for their children until they reach their fifteenth nameday in your opinion, Aegon?" Dany had finished her meal and leaned forward eager to hear his answer
  
  Jon looked pensive. "Lord Varys believes we are so popular right now, that we can make the people accept anything we want. But I think we need to proceed with caution. Nothing prevents you from starting to lobby, my love. Mention it during conversations here and there and make your opinion known. I'll do the same. Perhaps Varys and Prince Oberyn can be of service as well."
  
  At that moment, two heavy knocks disturbed their conversation. "Enter!" Jon shouted.
  
  "Nephew, Daenerys," his uncle Benjen greeted them both jovially after entering the room. "I missed you at breakfast, Jon. I was surprised to hear you had not left your room yet. Have you finished breaking your fast? Maester Luwin brought these ravens for you." He handed Jon a few scrolls. "There was one for me as well and I wanted you to be the first to hear my news!"
  
  Dany eyed him curiously. Uncle Benjen had a sunny disposition and was great company most of the time but now he looked positively radiant. She nudged Jon's feet under the table.
  
  Jon quickly put the scrolls aside and offered his uncle a seat. "Do tell, Uncle Benjen! We are all ears!"
  
  "Ashara, she felt the quickening a few times already! I am to become a father after all and fairly soon if the missive is to be believed. She wrote only after she was absolutely sure!" Benjen Stark burst out. "I had never dreamed... We are both not that young anymore. The Gods have truly blessed us!"
  
  "We are so happy for you, Uncle Benjen!" Daenerys rose to embrace him and Jon did the same moments later. He held on to his uncle longer than necessary. "If you are half the father to your firstborn that you were to me, that child will be very, very lucky." he pronounced overcome with emotion.
  
  "Come now, Nephew." His uncle's tried to adopt a teasing tone. "Don't act all jealous now! You will always remain my favourite King. Ashara and I wish for you to become his godfather."
  
  "And I will embrace that role wholeheartedly. I will be his godfather and treat him as I would a much younger brother." Both men exchanged a meaningful look.
  
  Daenerys waited a bit before breaking the silence. "I won't take the trouble to write to Aunt Ashara. We will be in King's Landing soon enough. We plan to leave at noon today, Uncle Benjen. We just decided," she added quickly when Benjen Stark looked surprised. "We will be able to congratulate Ashara in person and hand her your written response," Daenerys informed him. "I will look after her until you return. She will not want for anything."
  
  "Thank you, Daenerys. I appreciate that. The Maester also promised me to follow the pregnancy closely. It is not as easy for a woman her age." Benjen Stark swallowed. "Still, she writes all is well. I pray that it stays that way."
  
  "I will pray to the Old Gods for you both, Uncle," Jon promised. "Now allow us to read these messages and then you can join me again so you can support me when I inform Uncle Ned that Dany and U will be leaving at noon. Perhaps he will be so distracted by your good news that he will forget to scold me for not giving him more advance notice. Don't forget you have a letter to write."
  
  It was well past noon when Viserion and Rhaegal took to the skies. Jon and Dany waved goodbye to the crowd that had followed the Warden of the North outside to watch the royal couple fly off. Soon they would hold little Prince Aemon in their arms again and Jon was certain that Dany was already carrying their twin daughters. He had much to look forward to. The realm was at peace so this time around, they planned to enjoy every stage of her pregnancy together. They would delegate as much as they could to their counsellors. The King and Queen could draw up the laws but leave it to their advisers to implement them. Perhaps they would both fly out to Winterfell for Sansa's wedding. If not, Jon would attend alone and stay only for one day before heading back to his pregnant wife and child.
  
  Jon looked ahead but his eyes didn't fully register how blue the sky looked these days. His mind was focussed on the future. These days it took a while to count his blessings: possibly four sons and two daughters to call his own; a wife who adored him; two dragons and a direwolf who supported him and loved him and his extended family unconditionally; not to mention his dearest friends; so many others as well; all his loyal advisers; his Kingsguard, the royal guards, the city watch, his servants, the men that had fought for him; there were so many loyal to him and his family, men and women who would not hesitate to give their lives for them. The Gods had been good to him. Even if he and his followers had needed to prove they were worthy of that blessing, they had prevailed and now they could all look forward to a future of peace and prosperity. He realised they would have to work for it still. No peace lasted without working for it. No improvement could be implemented without investing in it first. But one thing he could make sure of: from now on he would count his blessings and enjoy every single day!
  
  Interlude 58: Closure
  
  The road ahead looked desolate. Nothing but red waste as far as the eye could see. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a soiled cloth. Not that it did much good. He could already feel new sweat drops forming on his forehead. "This is far worse than Dorne," Ned muttered under his breath. It had not been his intention for anyone to hear him, but unfortunately, his friend riding next to him had the uncanny ability to identify the slightest sound and had not only overheard but had also understood every single word he had mumbled.
  
  Howland Reed steered his horse a little closer so they could speak in private. "This does bring back memories of a similar journey we undertook some odd twenty years ago." The crannogman smiled wistfully. "If I recall correctly, you suffered from the heat back then as well. The only difference is that we are even further from home than last time. Never thought I would ever travel to Essos, let alone sail all the way to Elyria. I had never heard of the island's existence before you mentioned it."
  
  "I didn't ask you to accompany me, Howland. You offered." Ned objected.
  
  "And you could have sent anyone else in your stead, Ned. All this sweating is your fault. We don't belong here. Our companions are barely breaking a sweat. These men are competent soldiers and lived in Essos for years. They could have completed the mission just as well without you."
  
  "I know that," Ned sighed looking at the five men of the Company of the Rose that had come along instead of his Stark Houseguard. "I was taught differently though. A man takes responsibility for his actions and doesn't shy away when things get difficult. I am not in the habit of letting others do my dirty work."
  
  Howard shook his head "I know what you are referring to, Ned. Our way is the old way. He who passes the sentence must swing the sword. But this is different. This undertaking doesn't need the presence of the Warden of the North. Your rigid adherence to your principles will one day be the death of you. It is making your life more difficult than it needs to be. You could have met up with him the very moment the ship transporting him back to Westeros had docked in the harbour of your own choice."
  
  Ned shook his head. "I needed to do this to be able to live with myself. Guilt has been nagging me for nigh on twenty years."
  
  Howland shook his head looking at his Liege Lord as if he had two heads. "You know that is ridiculous. You let him live where others would have murdered him on the spot a long time ago and would have been justified in doing so. The man has no regard for human life itself. He is a monster. I always admired you for coming up with an even harsher punishment than death for the man but now I am reconsidering. I am starting to think that the choice you made back then stemmed not from your brilliant mind but was made out of cowardice."
  
  Ned gritted his teeth. "I always welcomed your candour and your loyalty, Howard. But you are overstepping."
  
  "If you need me to apologize, I will, my Lord. But I only wanted to ease your conscience. I had the best intentions." Lord Reed immediately retreated in his role as vassal.
  
  Ned deflated. "I know. Just as you can't stop yourself from trying to save me, I can't change who I am. I wish this was all over and I could head home to Catelyn. She thinks I am off avenging Father and Brandon. Her mind is still stuck in the past."
  
  "I'm sorry, Ned. Nobody deserves such a fate. It must be hard on you and the children."
  
  "They are coping with it much better than I do. Robb and Dacey are doing a splendid job running not only Winterfell but the entire North. With Sansa married and living with her husband and Arya staying at the royal court, Bran and Rickon have grown very close. Sometimes Catelyn dotes on Bran mistaking him for Robb. Other times she ignores them. She stopped talking about returning to Riverrun, so there is that."
  
  "How is Bran doing?" Howland asked. "Meera misses him. They were inseparable at Greywater Watch. She is counting the years until they will be old enough to wed."
  
  "I hope you won't hold it against me that I will be trying to make the years go as slow as possible. I'm glad though that they have come to an understanding but I hate to see him leave."
  
  "And I am grateful for your consent, my friend." Lord Reed said softly.
  
  "That was the least I could do. After all, you and yours have done for Bran! His eyesight has returned and he is almost as he was before- you know. You were right to take him to the Isle of the Faces. And I no longer regret you almost forcing me to foster him for a while at Greywater Watch. I do not recall why I was so set against it at first."
  
  "You care for Bran and I could give you no guarantees. That boy is a hero. He deserved his youth to be returned to him. I am glad the Old Gods released him from his duties. He remains a greenseer but the Gods will contact us less now that the threat is contained."
  
  "Still, Howard, you and your house have proven more faithful than house Stark deserves on more than one occasion. You can ask anything of me, consenting to wed Bran to your daughter is hardly enough of a reward for all the services you rendered me over the years."
  
  "Well, you can start by allowing me not to mince my words when we are in private. That will be more than sufficient since our King was most gracious in raising the importance of our house and waiving his part of our taxes, not even asking for a part of the income and prestige we gained after we developed an antidote against the winter fever using the ideas young Maester Tarly sent us."
  
  "Samwell Tarly is currently researching my wife's condition. I still pray twice a day that he will succeed. I miss my wife, even with all her shortcomings and southern habits, I had grown to love her."
  
  "Well, if the man found a cure for greyscale and winter fever, I'd say with the help of the Gods, anything is possible. Keep the faith, old friend."
  
  Ned hardly recognised the man sitting in front him with his back leaning against a large palm tree. He was a pale shadow of the powerful lord that he had exiled twenty odd years ago. A helpful young woman, living at the nearby settlement had pointed him out to him earlier. "He spends most of his days just sitting there, staring at nothing and muttering to himself, good Sir." She had informed him of her own volition. Ned had handed her a silver dragon.
  
  Not much later, Ned looked out of his depth as the tall skinny man with hardly any hair left worth mentioning on his head if you did not take into account his wild uncultivated beard, refused his offer for the second time.
  
  "Why should I want to return to Westeros after all this time? Not only will most nobles have forgotten about me, the few that might still recognise me, won't look up to me anymore. I used to walk above them all. Now I am no longer of any consequence."
  
  Ned wanted to offer a rebuttal but Tywin shook his head. "Don't patronize me, Prince Stark is it now? None of the tradesmen I encountered over the years recognized my name. Some of them even ignored me and refused to answer my questions about Westeros. Nobody cowers before the Lannister name anymore. They used to stumble over their feet in their hurry to do my bidding, you know. Now my name means nothing. The man who sits before you isn't Tywin Lannister any longer. I used to rule the Seven Kingdoms at one time. But now..." He swallowed thickly.
  
  "The last mummer troupe that travelled to this gods-forsaken place performed this play. The return of the dragon, they called it. Well, my house was used for comical relief. That is what it has come to. The legacy of House Lannister is now a laughing stock, a tool that mummers use to entertain people. I couldn't bear to watch how they made vile caricatures of my golden twins. They even had a despicable dwarf dancing to the tune of a flute player who also played the role of the true, valiant, noble, handsome King of Westeros, your nephew I believe?"
  
  There are no such mummer troupes in Westeros, Lannister." Ned awkwardly answered not able to contradict the rest. "You can reunite with your family. The Lannisters still rule Casterly Rock."
  
  "You do not understand at all. I'm sure you can't, oh honourable Stark who never plays games and is always straightforward. Oh no, I forgot. That was all just a pretence. The truth is that Eddard Stark is a master at keeping up appearances. Nobody knows of our deal, don't they? Westeros is ignorant of the fact that the widely acclaimed noble Prince Stark is a trickster, a vile blackmailer who kidnapped and exiled the most powerful man in Westeros aiming to put his kin on the throne."
  
  Howland Reed intervened before Ned could. He was worried that Tywin Lannister would get under the skin of his liege lord. His voice was laced with sarcasm. "Those were your conditions, Tywin Lannister! You begged us not to let anyone know how far you had fallen. Either you are delusional or have become senile. I wager it is the latter. You are after all not that young anymore."
  
  Lannister shook his head in despair. "I worked so hard to rise above those mad, bloodthirsty Targaryens. They were power-hungry foreign invaders who happened to have dragons. And I, the mighty Tywin Lannister got the better of them. The Lion had triumphed, the dragons were crushed. But you came out of nowhere with your false act of honour. You blind sighted me and used Lannister Gold to support your unrighteous rebellion."
  
  "That is not how I remember it happening," Howard Reed countered.
  
  "How would you know, crannogman! You were not there when they ambushed me!"
  
  "I trust Benjen Stark and his men to have told me the truth. Besides, you can't deny that your life was forfeit after you ordered the murder of an innocent Princess and two small children, one was no more than a baby. You applauded the vicious way in which it was done! You even rewarded the monster that did it! Not to mention that you allowed said monster to terrorize, rape, and murder smallfolk without repercussion for years on end until we stopped him. The way I look at it, you struck a real bargain. Prince Stark didn't cut off your head. You got away with your life what is much more than you deserved. I counselled our King's against the decision to allow you to return to Casterly Rock and live out the rest of your days confined there."
  
  "But Stark here didn't inform me of all the repercussions when I signed those gold mine away in exchange for my life." Tywin Lannister lamented. "He didn't tell me he would give the throne back to despicable dragonlords. He didn't reveal what would become of House Lannister. A dwarf is the head of my proud house now. My daughter is imprisoned, Jaime was sent to the Wall and I don't even know whether he is still alive. It matters not. If he is, he is a sworn man of the Night's Watch. My only grandchildren are bastards. My name will die. All my efforts, they will all have been for nought."
  
  Lord Reed shook his head. "That account is flawed. Your house will live on. The Lannister name still commands respect. Ser Jaime's title and honour were restored after his heroic deed of saving King Aegon's life. Your youngest son is a valued member of King Aegon's inner circle. He serves as his master of Coin and King Aegon considers him a friend. You are a great-grandfather already. Lady Myrcella who married Lord Willas of House Tyrell gave birth to a boy. With the help of the Gods, Luthor of House Tyrell, your great-grandson will rule over the Reach one day.
  
  "Luthor," Tywin Lannister whispered and a single tear rolled over the cheek of the cold-hearted, embittered man.
  
  "Also, your grandson, Lord Tommen has been recognised as a Lannister. That Targaryen King you despise so much has been most kind to your family. Lord Tyrion only rules the Westerlands as regent until Lord Tommen of House Lannister comes of age."
  
  "Tommen and Myrcella are both respected and recognised as Lannisters?" He addressed Prince Stark.
  
  "You have my word that all that Lord Reed just told you is the truth. I thought you were wise enough not to believe that a mummer's troop is a reliable source of information. You still have many reasons to sail home with us.
  
  Ned was happy to see the imposing rock come into view. It had been a long sea voyage. To oblige their guest they had not taken the shipping route through the Stepstones and followed the East Coast of Westeros, instead, they had sailed the Summer Sea past Dorne, Oldtown, and followed the west coast of Westeros until they reached Casterly Rock. Now they only needed to put the exiled Lord safely ashore and they could head back to the North.
  
  He was eager to be home. Catelyn would be glad to see him. At least she still remembered her wedding ceremony and the early years of their wedding. And he would love to see his grandchildren again. Perhaps another grandchild was already on the way! Standing at the railing of the ship he let his mind wander to all that had happened since discovering that little orphan in Dorne. Never in his life could he have foreseen how different his life would turn out. But the Kingdoms were all the better for it. He wondered if they would have survived the threat beyond the Wall if not for that small baby. Vaguely he heard someone calling his name.
  
  "Ned! Ned!" Howland Reed ran up to him. "We can't find Lannister and a sailor saw someone jump overboard. The officer on duty said nothing could be done to help the poor sucker he drowned before their very eyes. The sea is to rough out here. There is no way Tywin Lannister could have survived."
  
  Ned rubbed his beard and cursed under his breath. "Then there I nothing more to be done and we must respect his choice."
  
  Both men stood at the railing looking at the mighty Castle on top of the famous rock. Eventually, Ned broke the silence. "I'll better go tell the captain to change course. No need to dock in Lannisport now. He can set a course for Seagard. We are going home!"
  
  The end
  
  Endnotes:
  
  That's all Folks! I hope most of you enjoyed following this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Attentive readers will have recognised that the interlude featured one of Bran's earlier visions. And if you stuck with me till the end and did not check favorite box below the story, please consider doing so now. That and respectful reviews are the only rewards us fanfic writers can accept. We thrive on them!
  
  I thank all my readers for taking an interest in this story but special thanks go out to Ravenousreadr and Lunaselene who sacrificed time they could have spent with their loved ones to help me along part of the way.
  
  This is not farewell, merely goodbye for now. Keep safe and stay healthy!
  
 Ваша оценка:
Связаться с программистом сайта.

Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души" М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"

Как попасть в этoт список

Кожевенное мастерство | Сайт "Художники" | Доска об'явлений "Книги"