Northward Bound
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(circa 295AC)
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“Good morning,” I said, trying not to sound too cheerful as I walked into the Great Hall of Winterfell with Ty on my arm, having enjoyed my morning so far. It was the morning after we’d arrived, and given the amount of drinking last night, very few people were up, with the main ones being the older Stark and Manderly children. All of them were grouped around one table closest to the head table.
“Not so loud,” Robb groaned as he barely lifted his head from the table even as Wynafryd gently patted his back. I chuckled at his reaction as I helped Ty onto the bench next to Alysanne. Though my amusement fell as I saw Theon eying Ty. Last night, Theon had tried to get us all drunk, but Ty had already promised me fun once we retired so there was no way I played along. As he and Robb got progressively drunker – with Robb struggling more since it seemed Ned, or more likely Catelyn, didn’t allow him to drink regularly – Theon began to boast to Ty. Ty had batted it off while keeping a hand on my leg to prevent me from beating the older, but smaller and less imposing boy into a bloody mess. Once Ty had gotten me back to our room, she’d proved remarkably skilled at finding ways to soothe the wolf within.
“You’re complaining about being loud now?” Theon smirked as he kept staring at Ty even as I placed a hand on her shoulder. “When I passed last night, it sounded like a ghost was haunting the halls.” His eyes drifted over Ty’s chest which angered me. I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before glaring at the dumb shit. That made his attention shift elsewhere, which made me smirk.
“Huh?” Robb mumbled and as I looked at him it was clear he was badly hungover and likely didn’t remember much of last night. Though Alysanne was blushing up a storm and doing her best to not look me in the eyes, possibly as she was perturbed by Theon’s remark. Wynafryd kept her focus on Robb, confirming to me my thoughts about why Lord Wyman sent his granddaughters to Winterfell. Wylla was seated next to Beron with the pair struggling not to laugh at his brother’s predicament.
“Never mind, Robb,” Theon said as he returned his attention to his friend. And away from my girl. Ty patted my hand, and I looked down at her.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” It took me a few seconds to process what she meant.
“Right.” I looked over at the others. “Back in a tick.”
The Starks and Manderlys all looked at me in confusion though none managed to say anything before I’d slipped away. The wing of the Great Keep where Ned had placed us wasn’t too far from the Great Hall, and I reached it after a few minutes of jogging. I slowed as I approached, not wanting to wake those who were still sleeping, nor risk the guards causing a ruckus as I entered the area housing the Dornish party.
After nodding at the two guards outside the door, I slipped into Oberyn’s room and moved quickly over to the chest he’d placed the gifts for the older Stark children in.
“Have you grown tired of my daughter already?” I turned at the question to see Oberyn stepping out of what I assumed was his bedroom, a cloth in his hands as he dried his face. “Or have you perhaps considered sharing my bed?”
He’d jested about this with me several times since I’d started sleeping with Ty, and while it was flattering, I simply didn’t swing that way. “Gifts,” I replied, ignoring the fact he was naked from the waist up.
“Ah. Well, carry on then, though perhaps tonight you may want to find a way to quiet Tyene. While the walls of Winterfell are thick, any walking past your room had an earful last night.”
“Alright,” I replied weakly. Having the father of the girl I was fucking joke about how loud she was in bed was, well, odd. And how relaxed Oberyn was with the fact I was fucking Ty was still something I was growing used to.
I lifted the chest, finding it nowhere near as heavy as I’d feared, and left the room quickly. The trip back to the Great Hall took about three times as long, mainly as it seemed the Keep was slowly waking, and people were moving around in the corridors. By the time I returned to the Great Hall, I discovered that Ned and Sansa had arrived with my uncle looking a little under the weather. Wylis was seated next to him, looking so hungover a gentle breeze might knock him over, and he, along with everyone else, watched me intently as I moved to the table with those my own age carrying the chest.
Ty smiled up at me before I unlocked the chest. “So, while I’m glad to be back here, I honestly didn’t know we’d be here until after we left Gulltown, less than a moon ago. Thankfully, my father knew we were coming, and asked me before we left Sunspear about what you all like.” I paused as I lifted the lid of the chest. “Well, not you Theon,” I added, which drew some laughter with Beron being the loudest. Theon threw a lazy swing at the younger Stark boy, missing badly as Beron ducked it with ease. “However, if you’d like, I can hand-deliver a letter to your sister.” If Theon had been feeling resentful about not getting a gift, my offer ended that.
“I… I’d like that, thank you.” I gave him a nod and left it there. He’d have time to decide what he’d want to say, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. From what I knew from Nymeria, who’d grown close to Asha, the Greyjoy girl hadn’t spoken to any member of her family since being made a hostage by King Robert.
On top of the gifts was a small note from Oberyn detailing what was for whom, which was a relief as I’d hate to give the wrong gift to someone. Yet as I quickly read the note, I realised that wouldn’t have happened as each gift was personalised. I could see Alysanne leaning forward, wanting to see what was inside, and while I’d have liked to give her the first gift, custom dictated that honour went to Robb.
I pulled a cloth-covered gift from the chest and placed it on the table near his plate. Though far enough that he’d not vomit on it if he failed in getting a hold of his hangover. Robb leaned forward and pulled back the covering to reveal a sheathed dagger. The hilt was much like mine, being carved from ebony with a bronzed wolf pommel.
“Gods, thank you.” I smiled and pulled my blade from my waist, placing it on the table near his. “You should thank my father. He had mine made when I was five, though now it means every time we use the blade, we’ll remember our cousin.”
He smiled and picked up his dagger, looking at the intricate detail of the wolf’s head. “Still, I’m grateful.” Behind him, at the head table, I saw Ned smile at us even as Catelyn walked in, young Arya and Bran with her.
“Beron, you’ve spoken of how much you’d love to see the Windchaser, and enjoy tales of adventure, so this should keep you happy,” I said to the ripple-caused Stark as I pulled a book from the chest. As I did, I noticed the younger Starks had spotted our gathering and were speaking with their mother.
“Oh,” Beron sounded disappointed when he saw it was a book, only to brighten up as he read the title. “OH! It’s about the Sea Snake!” I chuckled at his reaction, and so did others as he reached for The Nine Voyages; a book written by Maester Mathis detailing Corlys Velaryon’s voyages before he became Lord of Driftmark and the role he played as a central figure in the Dance of Dragons.
Beron reached for the book, only for Alysanne to slap his hand. “You’re not touching that until after you’ve finished your meal and washed. I don’t think Cregan or Prince Oberyn would appreciate you getting stains all over their gift the first time you touch it.”
Beron pulled his hand back sheepishly. “Aye, you’re right.” I laughed along with everyone even as Arya and Bran got a nod from Ned and moved toward our table. I saw Catelyn watching us intently, but her focus seemed to be more on Alysanne than me, meaning she probably wasn’t happy about the girl slapping her son’s hand. Hopefully, her behaviour toward Alysanne hadn’t worsened in my time away, though there was little I could do about it, Alysanne was no threat to Robb’s position as heir. Unlike, say, myself. Not that I wanted the title as even if it’d give me more power than I had now, I’d be forced to stay in one place and deal with more political bullshit than I’d like as I slowly prepped for what was to come.
Alysanne returned her focus to me, staring pointedly at my hands as I reached into the chest once more. She did not make eye contact, though. She was clearly interested in what I’d gotten for her, but it seemed her unease about what Ty and I had been up to last night was overriding her curiosity. Of course, it could be just because of what Ty had mentioned this morn.
Alysanne was at that age when boys started to look attractive, so she might be getting lost in my eyes, which Ty often claimed to do. Or like Arianne, might be distracted by the scar over my left eye. While I wasn’t sure what was the reason for Alysanne’s reluctance to look at me, events in Gulltown gave strength to Ty’s words. Once any dislike for me winning the squire’s tourney had passed – and even before then – more than a few maidens had looked me over and given Ty an evil eye for getting to me first.
“Sansa,” I began as I pulled out her gift and shifted my thoughts away from my secret Targaryen cousin. “From what Alysanne and Beron have told me, you have a lovely singing voice and have started learning, alongside Alysanne, an instrument. Thus, I hope this is to your liking.” Her gift wasn’t the biggest by length – that honour went to Alysanne’s – but it was the heaviest.
As I pulled back the cloth to reveal the small, but highly detailed harp, the red-haired girl gasped sharply. The wood had a reddish hue while the gentle smell of roses drifted over the table. At the crown, a very detailed wolf’s head had been carved, while down the pillar there were soft carvings of roses. All of which looked to have been inlaid with silver.
“It’s beautiful,” Sansa said in a breathless whisper. She reached for it, only to stop and wipe her hand on a cloth. While she’d not eaten yet, it was amusing to see her show more sense than Beron. Theon, witnessing this, gently elbowed the younger Stark boy in the ribs. Sansa’s fingers drifted slowly over the inlaid wolf’s head before she looked at me and smiled. “Thank you.”
While still young, it was clear she was taking after her mother, which was a good thing. I might not like Catelyn much, a feeling I suspected was mutual, but there was no denying she was beautiful. One day, Sansa would rival her mother in looks.
I leaned over my lover and gently kissed the crown of her head. She looked up at me as I pulled back, and while there was some confusion in her eyes about why I’d kissed her, her smile showed none of that and instead stirred my blood. I looked back at the rest of the table. Sansa’s cheeks had reddened slightly as she stared at me, while Beron was staring intently at his book. Theon was avoiding looking toward me, showing a touch of class while Robb was fighting to keep his head from falling into his bowl. The Manderly girls were smiling slightly while the youngest Starks were making faces. Yet for all that, my attention easily slid back to Alysanne.
The girl was looking away, and her face had turned redder still. That did add some weight to Ty’s thoughts on the matter, though I hoped it wouldn’t affect my friendship with Alysanne. Even if she wasn’t going to join the Night’s Watch, I knew she had an important role to play in events to come.
“Alysanne,” I spoke softly, as I pulled the last gift from the chest, “I know a harp for you would’ve worked just as well as it did for Sansa. However, my good-father feels, and I agree, that a woman should have the choice to be more than just a lady.”
A gasp escaped Alysanne’s mouth as I pulled back the cover from her gift to reveal a very intricately-crafted short bow. It was made of a pale, almost white, wood that reminded me of a weirwood with each tip, similar to the crown of Sansa’s harp, having a stylised wolf’s head carved into it. There was, however, no silver inlay and to me that made sense. A harp was an object for a court, a bow for a hunt.
Trembling fingers slowly reached for the gift, making the string vibrate as they touched it. A smile erupted on Alysanne’s face as her fingers reached the first wolf’s head. Later I’d have to thank my father and ask to meet the carvers who made the engravings to reward them for their work.
Alysanne looked up at me, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice was even softer than Sansa’s had been. I smiled at her even as she stood, and then moved around the table. Once she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her head against my lower chest. “Thank you.” She whispered once more as I gently patted her back.
Up at the head table, I saw Ned and Catelyn both watching me intently. Ned seemed happy, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and there was a slight crease on Catelyn’s brow. Almost as if she wasn’t happy to see two Stark bastards sharing a moment.
“You’re welcome,” I said to Alysanne as she pulled back and looked up at me. Her cheeks now matched Sansa’s hair, which made my smile grow further. She looked up at me and leaned forward only to stop. Before I could wonder why she hesitated, she turned back to the bow. With care that verged almost on reverence, she picked it up and moved back to her seat.
As I sat down, Ty placed a hand on my leg. Not high enough to suggest anything, but enough to get my attention. As I turned to the blonde, she smiled widely before glancing towards Alysanne. I followed her gaze which only made her smile grow, making it clear she found something in our little interaction that amused her. And I was sure she’d use it to tease me.
I looked over at the youngest Starks: Arya, and Bran. “I’m sorry to say my father failed to arrange any gifts for you,” their faces dropped even as I kept going, “however, I’ll make it up to you. Not now, but perhaps later I could read you a story, or even let you pet Rian?” Both seemed pleased with the offer, though the way Arya had eyed Red Rain last night, I suspected she’d want a chance to at least hold it. I’d allow that, provided Ned signed off on it. If Catelyn didn’t like it, she could get angry at her husband or stew in anger for all I cared.
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“Come on.”
Alysanne moved down the steps in the crypt with such ease that it was clear she’d still been coming down here regularly in my time away. While it made sense, I hoped Ty didn’t tease me too badly about heading down here with my cousin. It’d been a few days since we’d arrived in Winterfell, and ever since the gift-giving, Ty had enjoyed teasing me about Alysanne’s obvious infatuation towards me. Though while I’d had to endure the teasing, Ty hadn't once teased Alysanne as far as I knew. Instead, the pair had spent lots of time together when I was busy either training, speaking with Ned or Oberyn or seeing what new books I could find in Maester Luwin’s library.
The initial bonding between Ty and Alysanne had occurred while cooing over Torrhen Stark, though Benjen and Obara had left a day ago to return to Moat Cailin. While that was the seat I’d expected Ned would give to his brother, learning that he’d pulled down the Broken Tower and had the stones and bricks carted away, to help with the reconstruction, had been a shock. It might seem a minor thing, but that tower was where so much of the animosity between the Starks and Lannisters was birthed that it could have major implications for the future. Then again, the same was true of Moat Cailin being rebuilt.
According to Benjen, they’d already cleaned and repaired the surviving three towers and rebuilt a small keep inside the inner walls. Those walls, along with two other towers, were currently being worked on and if I understood the timeframe Benjen was hinting at, would be completed before Jon Arryn died, which was a massive shift. Ignoring how it would help if the Ironborn still invaded the North, having the Moat as a fallback, should Winterfell fall to the Others, could be critically important.
Still, thoughts about the future left my mind quickly as Alysanne headed down past the second level. I took a glance around that level, wondering if my namesake would approve of what I was doing to prepare, or if he’d feel I was moving too cautiously. When I’d first read about Cregan Stark, I’d felt he’d been a cruel man, yet the more I learnt about him and Northmen not raised in the Vale, the more I felt he’d acted as I would’ve if I was raised in the North, even sending men south to fight in the Dance, simply to save having to feed them during winter.
“Where are we going?” The words slipped from my mouth as we passed the third level. everything below here was in ruins, and I remembered the warning from Ned back when I’d fostered in Winterfell to not go any lower than the third level nor come into the crypts without an escort. It seemed Alysanne had long since decided to ignore those words, as had I. Erac, my ever-present watcher, had been diverted with an errand by Ty who was waiting near the entrance of the crypts acting as a lookout and diversion while Alysanne took me to wherever we were going.
Of course, Ty couldn’t ignore the chance to tease me about heading into the crypts with my cousin. A warning to not make the girl’s first time happen in a cold and damp cave was passed with a smirk which evolved into a soft laugh as I tried to protest. Ty had teased me like that since the gift-giving, though things between me and Alysanne had recovered to what I’d expected quickly enough. Mainly as Alysanne dragged me to the archery range at least twice a day to practise with her new bow.
Each time, Theon had either already been there or joined in soon after. When it came to accuracy with a bow I was better than Robb and Beron, though Alysanne was as far beyond me as I was Robb, yet she was still miles behind Theon. Theon had eyed Alysanne a lot that first session, and I’d come close to feeling my Wolf’s Blood flare – though it was also being further fuelled by Blood of the Dragon’s Flames as well – at his behaviour. However, by the end of that first session, it’d become clear his interest was her bow and not her personally, at least not massively.
Theon had teased me about how bad I was with a bow, at least compared to him, but that ended in the yard. He might be a few years older than me, but I still spanked him in nine spars out of ten. And then there was his face as I trained with Red Rain. However, while I loved having a Valyrian steel blade, the style of Red Rain just didn’t suit me. Oh, I could use it easily enough, but it was a short blade, more suited for hack and slash and being paired with a shield. My preference blade-wise was a longer blade with a hand and a half hilt, it was more versatile, allowing for both one-handed and two-handed techniques. It also allowed for adding in certain moves I had learned from Syrio, or, once I reached the point I could do so, use magic with my free hand. Thus, either I was going to have to adapt my style, or, if possible, find someone to reforge the blade for me.
“Almost there,” Alysanne said as we moved off the stairs to the fifth level. Though since the stairs to the sixth level were blocked by rubble, I wondered if she’d found another way down to the lowest levels. That idea was dismissed as she slipped off the main tunnel on the fifth level and then slid between two fallen statues. I paused as she did as the gap that she’d taken looked tight as fuck for me.
“Slow down. I’m not as small and agile as you.” I grunted as I squeezed through the gap, feeling part of my tunic rip on some stone.
In the light of her torch, Alysanne laughed, making the sound echo eerily down the otherwise empty tunnels. “Right. I’d forgotten you’d grown big, strong, and slow.” I managed to slip through the gap and stood, frowning at seeing the tear on my shirt near my waist.
“Keep it up and I’ll put you over my knee and show you how big and strong I am.” The words slipped from me as I wondered about the tear and how to hide it, though once they had I stopped. I’d grown so used to dealing with Arianne and the Sand Snakes (and others) teasing me that, without thinking, I’d responded to Alysanne’s tease with something more mature than I should’ve.
I kept my torch low, making sure it didn’t show my face and the heat I felt building in my cheeks as I remembered Ty’s teasing just before we’d entered the crypts. Alysanne’s torch was higher up, meaning I saw the way her eyes first widened, and then wandered over my frame. However, before I could apologise, she turned and moved off. Not wanting to get lost down here, I followed along quickly, trying to ignore the awkward air that’d settled over us.
“This way.” Her tone was short, all the amusement from a few moments ago now gone. As I followed her torch-lit path down the tunnel, I cursed myself internally for not being more careful with my words.
Eventually, we headed down another side tunnel and stopped at another statue of a former King of the North. Or at least another King of Winter as, given how deep we were in, it was possible that these lords of Winterfell hadn’t managed to rule the entire North. Alysanne placed her torch in the empty hand of the statue, the iron sword he’d likely have been buried with having long since rusted away. She knelt and then started pulling something out from the side of the statue. For a moment I was worried she was removing the lid of the tomb behind the statue, but those fears were allayed when a small crate, no longer than my arm, slipped into the light. Given its condition, and that of the blanket over the top, Alysanne likely brought it down here herself to store whatever was inside.
“You remember how I said in my letters that we kept exploring,” Alysanne suddenly asked, drawing my attention from the crate. I nodded as I remembered her saying Robb had stopped due to needing to spend time with his father to learn the ropes of ruling, though Beron had stepped in to help Alysanne. “We found more as we explored. Most of it wasn’t worth the effort, and Beron stopped coming down.” Her hand drifted to the cloth as she spoke. “Beron stopped coming after that, but I didn’t. I felt… there was something down here. Something important. And, well, I found some things. Things I’ve kept hidden from everyone else.”
It was clear whatever was inside the crate was important to Alysanne; important enough she’d brought me down here to see it. As she pulled the covering back, a few ideas popped into my mind about what could be inside, however as the light from the torches glinted off something in the crate, I gasped.
“Fuck me!” There were a few objects inside near the bottom, most looking to be made of bronze and if the light from the torches was hitting them clearly, they were covered in runes. However, it was the largest object in the crate and the one that seemed to glow under the fire from the torches that’d drawn the curse from me. “Is that a…”
Alysanne nodded as the words caught on my tongue, and with incredible care, she placed her hands into the crate and lifted out an honest to Gods dragon egg. “At least I think it is,” she muttered as the light caught more of the shell. As I’d have expected, it was covered in what looked like scales, which were a brilliantly polished silver in colour. The tips of each scale were blue, like sapphires that sparkled under the light of the torches. “Here.”
She held it out toward me. My hand moved for the egg, then stopped. It took me a moment to find somewhere to rest my torch, but once it was secure, I picked up the egg carefully with both hands. Even though the scales looked sharp, they didn’t cut my skin. “It’s warm,” I muttered as I struggled to keep my eyes from the scales as they glistened in the light.
A split-second later I remembered that only Dany had felt warmth from her eggs before she’d hatched them. Like many fans, I’d suspected that was because she was a Targaryen and with me having taken Blood of the Dragon’s Flames, it made sense that I’d be able to feel that as well. Maybe Alys...
“You can feel it too?” my eyes rushed to my cousin as she cut off the thoughts developing in my mind. “I thought…” She stopped and looked down at the egg.
“What?” I asked slowly, trying to draw things out to allow me time to think. I’d thought about whether I should reveal the truth of her parentage, or at least hint at it, but at no point had I considered her thinking that way herself. Or having a dragon egg enter the picture. She’d never once hinted in her letters that she was questioning her origins, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t grown curious, particularly after discovering this egg.
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“I, uh,” Alysanne kept looking at the egg as she spoke. “I read somewhere that only those with the blood of the dragon could feel the heat from a dragon’s egg.” I was glad she wasn’t looking at me as my mind was going a mile a minute sorting out which way to head with this conversation. “I,” she licked her lips, “I’ve been wondering about my mother. May… maybe she was a Targaryen.”
As one hand idly ran over the scaled egg, feeling a slight connection to what may be within, I took a moment to consider my thoughts. “I’d say that’s unlikely.” Alysanne’s gaze returned to me as I spoke. “The only female Targaryen at the time we were born was Queen Rhaella. Now, she did give birth to a daughter, Daenerys, on Dragonstone at the end of Robert’s Rebellion, but I’m certain she was born after you.”
“How can you be sure?” The fear and confusion were easy to hear in her voice, doubly so as there was little to distract me from watching her in the depths of the crypt.
“Because I remember meeting you in Starfall.” Her eyes widened with disbelief, which made sense since we’d both been babes at the time. “Or I mean, I asked my mother about you, and she mentioned that your father brought you to Starfall when he returned Dawn.” Alysanne leaned forward, making clear she wanted to hear more, which made me glad I had spoken to my mother and wasn’t just bullshitting. “She told me that you were brought by Howland Reed when they arrived and that we spent some time in the same crib. Not that I remember it.” Now, while my mother had told me all this, I knew what she was holding back, though if not for Emotionless Recall, I wouldn’t have realised. That had me suspecting that she’d kept that secret even from Oberyn.
“Oh. I, I thought that… because I could,” her words trailed off as one hand came to rest beside mine on the egg.
Feeling a need to help reassure her, my hand slid over the egg. “Hey,” she flinched slightly as our fingers touched, but didn’t pull back as my hand moved on top of hers. “I understand why you’d want to know. Until my mother told me who my father was, I was unsure of who I was.” Her eyes drifted up from the egg to meet mine, and I offered her a soft smile. There was an urge to, if not reveal the truth, then push her in that direction. However, I curtailed that as I felt she had to make that step without a push from me. Plus, a single misplaced word and Robert might order her execution for being Rhaegar’s bastard. “Per-perhaps you’re special in another way.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them and if it wouldn’t have worried her, I’d have slapped myself for the mistake.
“Huh?”
I’d hoped she’d not catch my words, but it seemed my luck wasn’t holding today. My mind raced for a way to cover my slip. An idea sprung to the front of my mind, and while it wasn’t a great idea, it was better than the truth. And all I could think of in such a short time.
My hand lifted from hers and turned so my palm was topside.
“Ah!” the cry of fear slipped from her lips, and she scurried back as a small ball of flame sparked to life about five centimetres above my palm. For a second, seeing the terror in her eyes, I feared she’d turn and run, which might risk the reveal of my magic. However, before I could think about how to fix this mistake, she regained control of herself and leaned closer. One hand came forward cautiously, moving toward the fireball above my palm. “How?” Seeing that she wasn’t going to run and place me in a shitstorm of my own making, I concentrated and the ball turned into a dragon.
“Magic,” I smirked at saying that, as it never got old revealing that. So far, I’d only done it with Arianne, Nymeria, Ty and Sarella, but their faces had all mirrored Alysanne’s in a mix of confusion, disbelief, and curiosity. “I think this is why I feel the heat from your egg,” calling it hers should help her feel better as I had no plans to take it. While birthing a dragon would be fucking awesome, this was her egg. “Perhaps the reason you can feel the heat is the same.”
So far no one had managed to manipulate fire beyond me, but given the four others I’d helped were daughters, both true and natural born, of House Martell, that made sense. Even for Nymeria, whose mother was of Valyrian descent. I only had a very small sample to use, but the fact that all – bar Nymeria who still hadn’t unlocked any magic – could use the magic of the Rhoynish had me wondering if a father’s magic was inherently stronger than a mother's.
If that was true, then Alysanne should be able to manipulate the flames. Hopefully, if she could, she’d be less worried about her parentage. Though the opposite could also be true. She would one day learn the truth – I’d already promised myself to tell her if Ned died before she knew – but I didn’t want that to happen anytime soon.
As Alysanne continued to watch the fire dragon, with a small squeal of delight escaping her lips as I made it take off and fly around us, my mind started sorting out the mess I’d just made of things. Now I had to, somehow, help Alysanne at least begin the journey of unlocking her magic. I’d also have to explain things to Ty, who was going to be pissed that I’d let slip what I could do. Even if I trusted Alysanne, Ty would be freaking out that I’d take an unnecessary risk, which was true. That said, there was no way I was revealing the dragon egg to Ty. That was Alysanne’s secret, not mine.
And of course, with a little more time to consider things, I saw a dozen better options for redirecting Alysanne’s confusion over heritage that didn’t involve revealing my magic. Hindsight, it seemed, was just as big a bitch on Planetos as it was on Earth.
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About a week after arriving in Winterfell, Oberyn had informed me that we’d soon be heading out. Though, as I’d hoped – and I’m not afraid to say, begged for – we’d be heading north first. While clearing the objective The Far North felt important, I wanted to see the Wall at least once before the chaos of what was to come took away the time to enjoy the sight of one of the wonders of the world as defined by Lomas Longstrider. Or another one as I’d already seen the Titan of Braavos.
While I was excited to see The Wall, Ty wouldn’t be coming with me. Apart from me not wanting her anywhere near the scum that made up most of the Watch now, she wasn’t a fan of the cold. Winterfell was fine, as it was heated by natural hot springs, but even when lying with me under the covers, she kept wishing we were back in the warmth of Dorne. Which might also be because of her hints of what she wanted to do with me and Arianne. And possibly her sisters.
Regarding Ty, to say she’d been less than happy about my reveal to Alysanne, would be an understatement. Neither Alysanne nor I had mentioned the dragon’s egg, having come up with a story as to why I’d revealed my magic to her in the crypts, one we’d backed up by bringing out a bronze dagger covered in First Men runes. Ned had learnt of the dagger, and after some concern about Alysanne still going into the crypts, he’d allowed her to keep it and she wore it as much as she could; only taking it off when having lessons with Septa Mordane – which she hated – or with Catelyn around, which Alysanne seemed to enjoy.
Ty had been angry with me publicly about my reveal, though she’d never mentioned what I’d done to anyone else. Thankfully, I was skilled at easing and redirecting that anger privately, and after a day of ‘persuasion’, Ty had agreed to help Alysanne. While she couldn’t manipulate fire, she was the only person my cousin could talk to about the subject. Ty had brought up with Alysanne that I felt Nymeria might be able to control flames given to her mother being from Volantis. While that was a logical thing to mention, even if Nymeria hadn’t managed to unlock any magic, I was concerned it would draw Alysanne’s thoughts back to her mother. Or, Gods forbid, to question if Ned was truly her father. However, without letting on to Ty that I knew the truth – which I wasn’t doing as if she knew, it was only a matter of time before the rest of our family did – there was little I could do to stop those wheels from turning.
Hopefully, while I was at the Wall, Ty could help Alysanne keep her secret and keep my cousin from doing anything stupid like revealing I could use magic. While I felt Ned would accept things reluctantly, I could already see the shitstorm his Seven-loving wife would kick up.
Thankfully, any further thoughts about the red trout left my mind as my father walked into my room; where he’d asked me to meet him about an hour ago. While I wasn’t happy about having to wait so long, Rian didn’t mind as I’d been idly tossing him scraps of meat as he cleaned himself while resting on a chair.
Ty and Alysanne were currently off with Sansa and the Manderly girls in a lesson on how a noble lady should behave, which always made me chuckle. While she might come off like an innocent little flower, or even a Septa, she was far from it. Out of all Oberyn’s daughters, Ty might be the most dangerous as she looked the least threatening but had inherited the love of poisons from Oberyn and a knack for making people like her. As she’d done with Sansa, much to Catelyn’s ire.
“Forgive me, but my talks with your uncle took longer than we expected.” He walked toward the table I was at and offered a goblet of wine. “There’s something I wished to speak with you about before we left for the Wall.” The friendly smile on his face fell after taking a mouthful of the wine. “Ugh. Remind me to send your uncle a casket or two of Dornish red. This Arbor piss isn’t much better than water.”
I laughed softly at that before sipping at my cup. While Arbor gold didn’t have the same kick to it, nor the slight burning as it slipped down my throat. “What is it you wish to speak of, father?”
Oberyn sat opposite me, gave his goblet another look of disgust before setting it down and then glanced at Rian. The bird ignored him, its eyes closed as it enjoyed the sunlight coming in through the open window. Through the bond I shared, I could tell he’d soon be heading out to hunt. Hopefully this time he didn’t drop a rat on my table during a meal. “I’m curious if you know why we came to Winterfell. Beyond as a reward for the squire’s tourney.”
I coughed back a laugh. “If that was your intent, then you’d have mentioned it before the tourney, not after.” I leaned back in my chair, and after swirling it around, took another drink of the wine, making sure to overly savour the taste to piss off my father. “That said, beyond letting me see my cousins, and letting you meet your first grandchild, that can’t be the only reason.”
“Pray tell what you think.”
“When we were in White Harbour, you spoke with Lord Wyman and Ser Wylis about trade between our kingdoms, and ways to increase it. From that, I infer that you planned to head there at least. Likely under orders from Prince Doran.” I picked up a strip of dried meat and tossed it toward Rian. The bird came alive as it soared toward him and happily caught it. “Both Dorne and the North are ignored, politely speaking, by the rest of Westeros. And that was even before Robert’s war,” I chose the neutral term for it on the off chance that someone overheard us. “Yet even with the distance between us, and the increased pirate issues in the Stepstones, the opportunities for trade with each other are there. For them, the rudimentary glass-making that exists in Dorne is cheaper than anything Myr would offer and more suited for their glass gardens. For us, I’d say the ample supplies of wood, particularly Ironwood if a trade could be managed.”
Oberyn chuckled as Rian gulped down the meat and then spread his wings, giving me a soft piping sound which I took as thanks for the treat. “I hadn’t realised you’d started studying the trade in the Shadow City and beyond.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t really, those two are just the obvious. Though I admit I’m wondering how to invest my savings.” Currently, they stood near two thousand dragons, with the most recent part of that coming from a cut of Oberyn’s winnings when he bet on me – at insanely long odds I might add – in the Gulltown squire’s tourney. While that would be enough to live a semi-comfortable life, that wasn’t what I planned to do. And not just because I knew what was coming. The simple life had never felt right with me, even before I’d died and been reborn.
I’d considered inventing something new, but I’d never learnt how things like the printing press were made. Oh, I remembered the details from my secondary school history books, but not how the devices worked. Plus, things like that and, say gunpower, would destroy the power structure in the world, and frankly since I wasn’t at the bottom of society, I had little interest in breaking the wheel. Still, even things that might make sense, like crop rotation, were already used. While this world was less advanced than Earth, it wasn’t backward.
“Somehow I don’t see you settling down and having a quiet life.” We both laughed at that idea before Oberyn tapped his chin. “Have you considered being a sellsword, or even founding a company? Not to brag, but I did do that.”
“Yes, you might’ve mentioned that once or twice,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes.
“Oh yes,” he chuckled before continuing. “Or perhaps, like Daemon, you swear your sword to someone.” I gripped my goblet tighter at the mention of Daemon. While him being Arianne’s sworn shield was a good thing in the sense that I couldn’t deny he was a good fighter, having him around her… infuriated me. To the point that I was glad I was away from Sunspear for a while.
I was still trying to get a handle on my increased anger and aggression since taking Blood of the Dragon and seeing that prick around Arianne, always being at her beck and call, just enraged me. I’d come close on more than one occasion from trying to burn him alive as a primal anger raged within. Thankfully, Ty had given me an outlet for that fire, one we were both happy about.
“Those are certainly viable options, but they just don’t feel right to me,” I replied to my father with a shake of my head. “That, however, is a matter for another time. Returning to the topic, I’ve just been thinking about how stronger links can be made between the two kingdoms and trade is the obvious answer. Though perhaps not the only one.” I paused and ran my finger around the rim of my goblet, drawing out the moment as if thinking it over. “If not for Obara’s marriage, I’d suggest a wedding. Arranging another one between our houses seems unlikely, particularly due to the few options, so perhaps an offer to foster a Stark in Sunspear, much as I did with the Starks here in Winterfell.”
Oberyn was silent for a while as if considering my words before he laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to guess a fostering.”
I shrugged. “It’s just a guess,” I commented as I lifted my goblet.
“Aye, but it’s right.” Oberyn’s words came just as I took a sip, making me cough. That drew laughter from him, which grew louder when I glared at him after getting the cough under control.
“You did that on purpose,” I growled softly as I picked up a handkerchief and started wiping my mouth.
“But of course.” He laughed once more and then leaned forward. “However you arrived at that idea, you struck the anvil cleanly. My brother asked me to speak with Lord Stark about the idea of fostering one of his children, preferably the heir but that was always unlikely.” He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “I suspect Doran will be interested in how you came upon that idea. Have your cyvasse sessions given you that great of an insight into my brother’s logic?”
I shrugged, and then once it was clear he was waiting for me to reply, I took another mouthful of wine. Though not before making sure he didn’t say anything else as I did. After I had swallowed that, I replied. “I don’t feel it did. While Prince Doran is a very patient player,” Oberyn smirked at that, probably enjoying a private joke, “and that may carry across into how he rules Dorne, I wouldn’t say I know how his mind works. Only that, the idea I had makes sense, when considering Dorne’s standing with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.”
The cyvasse sessions with Doran had begun a few moons after returning to Sunspear. The game was complicated, with a strategic element like chess, and while I enjoyed learning and playing it, I felt teaching me was only the overt motive of the prince. Since I was close to his daughter, whom he had plans for, and the fact I had links to the North and Dorne, he probably wanted to feel me out. Maybe even see how he could fit me into his plans. And he likely had a good read on me by now, but I was fine with that as I’d not been entirely honest with him about my thoughts on things. Mainly as my main focus was always on the Others and the threat they posed.
Still, given I’d suspected his plan for me early on, it’d allowed me to learn how to play the Great Game from one of the more powerful men in Westeros. It’d become clear that one reason, aside from sounding me out, for teaching me was a sense of loneliness. With his wife having left because Quentyn was fostering with the Yronwoods, he only had his brother to spend time with. While I knew Oberyn could play cyvasse, he played recklessly and seemingly became bored with the game quickly. That, however, I felt was another ruse to hide how sharp my father’s mind was.
“If your time with my brother didn’t influence your suggestion, might I ask what did?”
That question, and the calm way he asked it, was further proof that under the fire and passion he often showed, Oberyn was just as sharp mentally as his brother. They played the roles of the patient, almost lazy older brother, and reactive, temperamental younger brother so well, that if one didn’t spend time around them daily you’d struggle to spot the slight tells that there was more to them than just those personas.
“Nothing really,” I answered with a shrug. “While I did wonder about why we were here, I hadn’t given any thought to Prince Doran wanting to further the bonds between Dorne and the North. While a betrothal would be a strong bond, there already exists one through Obara. Creating another, probably with Sansa or Arya, would be a waste, politically speaking.” While a part of me felt odd to be discussing my cousins as objects, it was the way the world worked. Though females had less control in the matter than males. “That left a fostering, and, while not a true Martell, I’m still your son and fostered here, that would make sending Trystane here unlikely. Thus, the options are Beron and Bran as Robb is the heir, and possibly, too old to foster.”
A short silence fell over the room before Oberyn laughed and shook his head. He considered taking a drink, only to remember what was in his cup. “I’ll be speaking with my brother about this, you understand?” I nodded. “Good. Now, while you dismissed a betrothal, my brother did permit me to discuss the matter. Lord Eddard rejected it, probably for the very reasons you provided, as he isn’t willing to discuss such matters for any of his children.” I smirked at that, knowing such information wouldn’t go over well with Ser Wylis, or the other lords of the North once they learnt the Manderly girls were in Winterfell. “With that put aside and increased trade agreements reached with the Starks and Manderlys, the idea of fostering was discussed.” Oberyn leaned back and smiled like the proverbial cat that caught the canary. “Thus, until he is ten and five, Beron Stark will foster in Sunspear; leaving with us when we return.”
“Huh,” I muttered. I already knew someone was fostering, having hit the nail on the head a few minutes ago, but I didn’t expect it to be Beron. Bran or even Arya felt more likely as it gave Ned time to convince Catelyn on the matter. That Ned was willing to allow his second son to foster in Sunspear, and for almost four years since my cousin was only eleven, so suddenly was a surprise. Perhaps Ned knew more about the Great Game than he let on. Though Catelyn was going to be apocalyptic for a long while, which made it a good thing Oberyn and I were leaving for the Wall tomorrow.
“Do you not approve?” As he asked that, Oberyn’s eyes narrowed.
“I, uh, no. I mean,” I paused and took another sip of my wine, buying myself time to order my thoughts. “It makes sense, I’m just surprised at how easily my uncle agreed to the fostering, and that it’s Beron and not, say, Bran or Arya.”
“Ah.” Oberyn leaned forward as he continued. “I admit I was the same, though my brother had hoped that Beron would be the choice. While a second son, he is close to the future Lord Stark and already looks up to his brother and cousin.”
“Aye, there’s that.” I laughed once and shook my head. “Though I suspect Ser Wylis won’t be happy. His youngest has been spending a lot of time around Beron since we arrived.” Even as Oberyn laughed at my comment, my thoughts turned once more to Beron. Ever since learning of his birth, I wondered how his existence, like mine and Alysanne’s, altered the timeline. He was a logical choice for Robb to name as his heir as King in the North, if the War of the Five Kings still happened, and was a replacement for Jon in that regard, and others. However, he was a wildcard, which meant having him foster for nearly four years in Sunspear was a great opportunity for me to, if not mould him, then learn what makes him tick and gain his loyalty for the chaos to come.
“Aye, that she has. Still, he could match either girl with young Robb.” Oberyn scoffed at his words. “Though that would need the young wolf to remove his head from his arse and learn how the fuck to talk to a girl. I swear if not for his sisters and mother, I don’t think I’ve seen him talk to any girl.”
“Wylla would eat him alive,” I offered with a smirk.
That drew more laughter from Oberyn. “Oh, she would. She’s a feisty little thing. Reminds me of Nymeria, though thank the Gods my daughter never dyed her hair, even if Martell colours would work better than those of House Manderly.” I joined his laughter. Wylla’s hair, probably intentionally, drew your attention to the girl, who was a Gods-damn firecracker. I almost wished she was younger to see the chaos she and Arya could get up together. Still, Wynafryd would be the better match for Robb. She was well-behaved, though not from what I’d seen to the point of passivity, and there was a fire in her eyes that hinted at an intelligence she kept hidden. “Gods, those girls would be good matches for the Stark boys, though I doubt Lord Eddard will allow both to marry his sons.”
I nodded at that. The girls did seem a good fit for my cousins, but marrying both to the Starks would alienate the other houses of the North; at least if Ned then didn’t betroth his other children to those houses. Which, if done, would be a massive change in the timeline and while I wasn’t a fan of Sansa at the beginning of canon – with most of that being her mother’s fault – no one deserved the shit she’d gone through.
My thoughts once more returned to Beron, or more specifically what Doran was up to, manoeuvring to foster the Stark boy in Sunspear. Obara being recognized as a Martell and then marrying Benjen, while seemingly approved of by King Robert and Jon Arryn, was something Doran had to allow. That would’ve raised a lot of eyebrows in Westeros, with Beron’s fostering even more so.
If I was right about Doran wanting to marry Arianne to Viserys, then in the context of pulling the Starks from Robert’s camp, or at the very least, making them less likely to jump to the king’s aid, these moves made sense. But since I’d never read the later books, and the show had fucking butchered Dorne, I had no external knowledge to work from. Only ideas that may not be true.
… …
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… …
I looked forward from my horse and once more marvelled at the Wall. The massive structure, which had shifted from a glowing soft purple at sunrise to a dull grey now the Sun was overhead, didn’t just dominate the view, but blocked out anything in front of us, as it had been doing since before we’d even reached Mole’s Town last night. Gods, we’d been able to see it even from the towers of the Last Hearth when our party had stopped there for a few days. Back then, it’d just looked like a thin line of white that stretched above the trees. But up close, with us fast approaching Castle Black, there was nothing you could do to avoid looking at the thing. Only marvel at the insane feat of magical engineering that’d gone into making this.
While the Titan of Braavos was impressive and something I’d never forget seeing – Emotionless Recall aside – the Wall was on another level. At least in my mind. And that was before even considering the tingling I’d been feeling for the last few days, which had been growing stronger the closer we got to the Wall. Hell, in Mole’s Town last night it’d been hard to sleep as I’d felt a pull from both deep inside and somewhere north – obviously the Wall – to reach my destination.
Mole’s Town was one of the oddest places I’d seen in either life. The place looked to be a small village when you approached with only a handful of large buildings. Yet once inside a building, you entered a series of tunnels that seemed to stretch down and outward in a way that reminded me of what a Dwarven city would feel like. Minus everything being covered in stone of course.
“Gods, it’s just…”
“Aye, it’s something, isn’t it?”
The words drew my attention, however reluctantly, from the Wall to the three people riding beside me. Robb was on my right and to his right were first Smalljon Umber, who’d been the one to respond to Robb’s comment, and his younger brother Howar. Behind Robb rode Rodrik Cassel, the Master-of-Arms at Winterfell, who was acting as Robb’s guard since Ned had chosen not to accompany us on the journey. Every one of them, plus myself and the rest of the party, were wearing thick furs as it was bitterly cold this close to the Wall, which had me wondering just how harsh it was north of it, especially during winter. Behind Rodrik was a mix of Stark, Martell, and Umber guards with my father riding at the front of the procession with Greatjon Umber. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how the Martell guards looked to be frozen into their saddles, especially the three knights who’d come with us from Winterfell.
Yet for all the cold around me, I still felt warm. Not enough to forego furs, but enough that if we rode harder I’d likely end up sweating some. At a guess, this was due to the mixing of Blood of the First Men with Blood of the Dragon’s Flames to create a natural resistance to the cold while keeping myself warm internally.
A few horse lengths in front of me, leading the procession, were Oberyn and Greatjon Umber. The pair had it seemed developed a good friendship during the Greyjoy Rebellion and were enjoying trying to outdo each other with stories of battle. Both on the field and in a bed. While I’d rather not hear some of Oberyn’s boasts about my mother, I let it slide as he was enjoying himself. Plus, I’d already bedded one of his daughters with possibly two more as well as his niece interested in joining me between the sheets.
“When’d you first come here?” Robb asked the two Umbers, drawing my attention to the pair.
Smalljon – which was the most inaccurate moniker I could think of – was the Greatjon’s heir, and though he still had a few more years to go, he was almost the size of his massive father. Meaning he dwarfed me, and I was the height of a fully grown man at thirteen! Howar was the same age as me though he was taller, but not to the degree of his brother and father as I didn’t have to crank my neck to look up at him. And thankfully, unlike his brother, he wasn’t a demon to fight.
When we’d stayed at Last Hearth, Robb and I had ended up sparring with the Greatjon’s three sons. While Robb had held his own against the youngest, who was younger than us, he’d been trounced by Howar and Smalljon. I’d done better, managing to land more strikes than I took against Howar, which pleased the Umbers immensely, much to my surprise. Against Smalljon however, I’d been out of my depth. While I had an apparent skill advantage – something Oberyn was proud to boast of since I was a good three years younger than Smalljon – he made up for that in size, power and surprising speed. I was faster, but Smalljon moved far better than one would expect from someone his size and build. And when he hit, even a glancing blow against my shield drove me back several paces.
I had managed to land a few good strikes on Smalljon, but he’d laughed them all off. Well, except for the blow that’d caught his groin. Thankfully we were using training swords – while the Greatjon wanted to see me fight his sons he didn’t want to lose them to an inadvertent swing of Red Rain – I’d not been pulling my strikes and hit him hard enough that he jumped back in pain. That only lasted for a moment before his rage flared and he came at me. Those blows were somehow even stronger than anything before and after he’d ended the spar by tossing me clean across the yard, during which I smashed through a rack of training swords, I’d wondered since then if the legends about the Umbers having Giants blood was true. Even the Greatjon’s daughters, the oldest of whom had shown an interest in Robb, were tall with the eldest being barely a half-a-head shorter than me.
The Umbers had decided to accompany us to the Wall with the Greatjon mentioning there’d be rumours of Wildlings in the New Gift. While he doubted that was the case, he’d stated he didn’t want to be the one to explain to the Stark that he’d been the one to let Robb die. We’d not encountered any Wildlings, or anyone for that matter, on the road bar those in Mole’s To…
I was jolted from my thoughts as something hit my shoulder. I looked but saw nothing there, though it seemed my companions were all looking at me. “There you are. Got your head in the clouds again, eh?” Smalljon asked with a chuckle even as Rian flew low, whistling as he did, buzzing us like a plane might buzz a tower.
“Sorry, I was just thinking,” I replied quickly, not wanting to let on that I could do as he’d joked about.
“It’s fine, the Wall is… impressive,” even as he spoke it was clear Robb understood his words were inadequate for what he was describing. “How does it compare to places in the south?”
“Casterly Rock is impressive, as is the Hightower, but this is something else entirely.” I’d considered mentioning the Titan, but since I felt the trip there had more to do than just checking up on Arianne and collecting the ships that formed the backbone of the Dornish fleet, I felt safer not mentioning it.
“Must be nice to get away.” Robb’s words were quiet, but I caught them in the breeze.
Ever since I’d returned to Winterfell, I’d caught a few muttered comments or glances from Robb, which when put together, suggested he might be a touch jealous that while he was handled with kid gloves as the heir to Winterfell, I was able to travel and see the world. And he’d likely feel worse when Beron left.
Still, that concern of being trapped in a single location, even one as advantageous as Winterfell, as a trueborn, was why I’d gone the bastard route. Though to help counter that, I’d chosen to be the bastard of two nobles. And once I was knighted, though I wouldn’t swear an oath to the Seven to become one, I’d be free to travel as I wished and had a ship to do so upon. Now while I couldn’t be sure of how things would play out when I’d chosen the bastard route, nor how the next few years would go before the shit hit the fan, as I sat on the horse next to Robb and the Umbers and approached the Wall, Rian flying high above us, I’d say things had worked out well enough.
“It does have its moments,” I replied softly to Robb. His eyes widened as he realised that I’d heard his words. “though I wonder what my future holds and where I’ll end up.”
Any reply from Robb was cut off by the loud single blast from a horn. Remembering the books, I knew that it meant that riders – obviously our party – were approaching Castle Black and were friendly. A second blast would mean wildlings while a third, which I knew would come at some point, but no one would believe me if I warned of it, meant the Others were back.
As we reached the edge of Castle Black, it was once more clear that this universe was closer to the books than the show. There were no walls around Castle Black, which even without the walls couldn’t really be called a castle, with various towers dotted around a large central area. None of the towers looked ruined, but thanks to the improvement in my vision from my bond with Rian, I could see easily that all needed repair.
As my horse passed the towers that marked the outer edge of Castle Black, my skin felt as if I’d been hit by lightning and a shiver ran throughout my body. Once I’d recovered from the unusual, yet oddly reassuring experience, I opened a pair of notices.
Magical Area Entered!
The Wall!
The blood of the First Men and Starks runs strong here. Since that blood runs freely within you, all magic relating to either gains a 25% boost in power, duration, and level growth.
All other magics gain a 5% boost.
...
WARNING!
Due to the magic within the Wall failing, all boosts are decreased 75%.
...
Objective Generated!
A Wall Empowered
...
I’d expected something to happen when I reached the Wall, and it was similar to what happened every time I entered Winterfell. Learning that it should’ve been much stronger, and gaining a new objective because of it, was a surprise. After reading the description of A Wall Empowered I doubted I’d have the time to be successful at it, even if doing so could be incredibly useful.
The objective wanted me to find a way to find and then restore the weakened magic within the Wall. From the way the objective was described, I felt there was more than one magical… power source within the Wall, though how in hell I was meant to even find one was something that was beyond me.
Since I’d planned to speak with Maester Aemon while here, I’d have to ask if he knew anything about legends regarding Castle Black’s construction. Though since, from what I knew, Aemon being a Targaryen wasn’t, at best, a widely known thing, I’d have to dance around the topic before challenging him about his family. While I doubted that he knew anything about dragon eggs, I still wanted to pick his brain about a great many things. And then, when the day came that Alysanne learnt the truth, provided he was still around, I’d be able to point her towards the only other remaining Targaryen in Westeros.
… …