Author's Note -

This is a WIP. If I continue this fic there might be some major changes.

Please Read and Review as feedback is always good for my writing process.

Ramza

Cerulean skies marred only by the occasional cloud warmed the road for the band of travelers as they explored the lands of Westeros. Their last job had been profitable, even in the eyes of the eldest of the group.

"We should have enough coin to procure some decent food," Cid muttered as he walked up to the youth. A veteran of two wars back in Ivalice the old soldier had taken the transition to Westeros the worst. "The butcher was glad to see our delivery of those aurochs, but I'm just glad we don't have to mind them any longer. Damned beasts are nearly as stubborn as behemoths."

Ivalice had creatures similar to the aurochs, though the bison or buffalo as they were known were never domesticated. Farmers in Ivalice preferred to raise chocobo as the giant fowl were capable of fending off most predators and their innate magical abilities made them fierce mounts. As Westeros did not have chocobo and had few large predators save for panthers and wolves aurochs were the primary chattel while a beast known as a horse was the preferred means of mounted transportation.

Helping to herd some two score aurochs had been the most dangerous job that the group had accepted in the two months since they had been sent to this world through Mustadio's strange dimensional portal machine. Only Mustadio, Agrias, Alicia, and Lavian had remained behind in Ivalice as few thought that the quartet a threat to the restructured government or to the church.

"What do we do now?" the grizzled old man inquired.

"We follow the river until it crosses King's Road," Ramza stated without even bothering to look at the map. "I'm sure we'll find another job."

Cid sighed. As the oldest member of the group the bulk of their business dealings were forced upon him as their employers seemed to take the elderly men more seriously. It was much easier for Cid to take a hard stance and be firm with their employers while Beowulf could amicably haggle for a more reasonable wage. Even then it was hard for them to find honest work as most viewed their youth as a detriment. The "gang" of inexperienced youths were overlooked, few believing that they would stand their ground against even half their number of grown men. Add to that fact that a third of their number were girls/young women and their potential employers were likely to seek to employ others.

"We've been here for two months and managed two jobs," the second part of their business front stated. "And the first was mere happenstance. Had that band of brigands not attacked us we would not have been able to collect the bounty on them."

Ramza was about to shrug when a wolf's cry interrupted the trio's discussion. Signaling to the group behind him and Cid rushed ahead while Beowulf took command of the remainder of the group. Pauline, Wilfrid, and Temperance chased after the pair before the group spread their formation.

It did not take long for them to spot the two youths throwing stones at a lone wolf. Neither child appeared to be older than 10, and at that they were doubtlessly unarmed.

"Stop!" Ramza shouted as he placed reached for the hilts of his blades. He had hoped to reassure the children so that they would cease throwing stones at the wolf. By shifting the wolf's attention to him as a possible threat he would allow Pauline and Beowulf to reach the children and escort them to safety while Temperance and Cid circled behind the beast. Instead he found himself dumbfounded as the wolf sprang past the children and assume a defensive position as though it sought to guard them.

Holding up his hands to appear non-threatening he stopped his progress.

"Stop right there Lannister," the younger of the two demanded.

Ramza resisted the urge to glance around as he came to the conclusion that the girl was addressing him. "I am no Lannister."

"You can't fool me," the dirty girl said. As if to enforce her argument the wolf growled menacingly.

"I am no Lannistar," Ramza sighed. In the handful of months since their arrival he had learned as much as he could of this land – their customs, nobles, and laws in particular. "I am Ramza Snow."

The girl eyed him curiously, though the boy quickly accepted the name.

"We heard a wolf," he stated. "As we are taking several aurochs to the next town to be sold I thought that there was a pack of wolves threatening our herd."

"For farmers you are well armed," she noted, her eyes noting the swords at his hips.

"We are actually sell-swords," he admitted. "We helped a farmer escort his herd to the last town but he was short of coin so he gave us a pair of aurochs as payment. Since the last holdfast purchased the rest of the herd we are headed to the next village or castle to sell the pair we have."

"Well she's not a wolf," the girl stated, "she's a direwolf."

"Direwolf? I thought there weren't any direwolves south of the Wall." Eying the beast he noted that it was far larger than any wolf he'd seen thus far.

"Nymeria's mine!" she proclaimed protectively.

"Yet you were trying to drive her off," Pauline stated as the archer stepped out of the woods behind the girl.

Startled, the girl spun around even as her pet moved to consider the possible threat. Wrapping her arms around the beast's neck the girl cautiously eyed the five strangers. "I'm trying to protect her!"

Ramza waved his hand, signaling for the others to set their weapons aside. "From what?"

"Or who?" Cid asked. As gruff as he was, the grizzled old man was far more tactful and gentle than he appeared. "Tell us your story girl."

Eddard

The camp was aflutter with activity as news of the incident spread. Many had heard Sansa's pleading cries as she and Joffrey had returned; the latter's sword arm a bloody mess. Though it had taken awhile for both to share their tale to the King, Queen, and the Hand, Cersei had moved quickly ordering her brother and the Lannistar men to Arya, the butcher's boy, and Nymeria. He himself was about to mount his trusted steed when another cry went out.

"She's here," Jory cried out breathlessly as he rushed to his lord. "Arya has returned."

"By herself?"

Jory shook his head, "The butcher's boy is with her, as is Nymeria." He paused, catching his breath. "They were accompanied by a group of travelers."

Something about Jory's statement bothered the Hand. "Where are they now?"

"The Lannister men have taken them to the King."

"Get Sansa," he ordered. "Bring her to the King's tent."

Even in his haste to reach the King's tent Eddard refused to break into a run. As the King's Hand and the Lord of Winterfell he could not allow his emotions to taint his honor and dignity.

Outside of the King's tent stood several figures. Though most appeared to have no more than 16 years on them there were two or three of them that appeared to be in their late twenties. Opposite them stood a greater number of Lannister guards. Both groups parted, allowing the Hand to enter the tent.

Several Lords stood to the side behind Robert as he sat on a stiff chair placed upon a wooden stage. To his other side Cersei stood beside the prince on a lower stage, the prince was seated and his arm in a bloody sling. Before them Arya stood between a blond youth and gruff old man. The blond held a leash though Nymeria appeared to not need it as she sat calmly at his side.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Hand demanded as he announced himself to those gathered. "Why was my daughter brought here before I was even informed that she had returned?"

Even as he hugged Arya he turned to look at Robert yet it was the blond youth's companion that answered, "She wished to have this matter addressed and resolved immediately."

Robert nodded, "That she did. The way Joffrey tells it one would think that they would have slunk off to the woods like cravens. Your daughter is brave beyond her years."

"Brave yes," Cersei interjected, "but foolish. She and the butcher's boy should never have attacked Joffrey."

"Only because he attacked Mycah first," Ayra replied hotly. Glaring daggers at the injured prince she dared him to contradict her. "He drew his sword, Lion's Tooth, and poked Mycah under the eye saying that he wouldn't hurt him much."

As if on cue the older boy stepped forward, turning his face so that the king could see the wound.

"Mycah was backing up into the river trying to get away from Joffrey"

"Prince Joffrey," Cersei corrected.

"Prince Joffrey looked to injure Mycah further so I clocked him over the head with a stick. Once Prince Joffrey was distracted Mycah ran for the woods. That's when Prince Joffrey decided to come after me with Lion's Tooth. If not for Nymeria he would have gotten me too. She dragged him down once he dropped his sword. That's when I told her to let him go and she did. I told him that she'd only hurt him a little and then I threw Lion's Tooth into the river."

King Robert eyed Arya then glanced at Mycah. The butcher's boy flinched then reflexively bowed his head. "Is that what happened?"

"Y-yes mi- my king," he blubbered as he wilted under the king's gaze.

Finally Robert turned his gaze to Joffrey. "Lying to the King is a punishable offense," he declared.

"Joffrey is not lying," Cersei interrupted. "He's the Prince – princes do not lie."

"That is enough from you," Robert barked as he gripped the arm of his chair. "Let Joffrey speak for himself, after all, it was his arm that was injured, not his tongue."

All eyes turned to Joffrey as he told his version of the incident – finding Arya with Mycah, then Mycah challenging him to a fight only for Arya and her direwolf to intervine, of them beating him bloody then throwing his blade into the river before running off.

"I know not what to make of this," Robert grumbled.

Eddard could see the bind that his friend was in. As the King he was the one who would need to decide which version of the story was the truth or at least truer version. Yet the implications either way could be damning.

"Milord," the grizzled old man that had escorted Arya back to camp finally spoke up, "from all accounts it was Prince Joffrey who drew his sword first. According to the girl and her friend he even drew blood before they attacked him. In his own tale it was he who drew his blade when he challenged the boy. Though he is still just a boy, he is nearly a man grown. Has his instructor not taught him that one should not draw steel so lightly? It would be one thing for him to have taken up a stick and challenged either Mycah or Arya, but he drew Lion's Tooth. It might have been something else if Arya or Mycah also had steel, but they did not."

"He is the Prince," Cersei proclaimed. "He knows how to use it."

The old man nodded his accent, "He may know how to use it, but does he know when to use it?"

"I taught the boy all he knows!" bellowed the Lannister's Master of Arms.

"So you taught him to draw steel against unarmed children?" Ned inquired.

The Master of Arms turned a dark purple as he failed to utter an appropriate reply.

"What is your name?" Cersei asked the traveler.

"You may call me Cid."

"And where do you hail from?"

"Here and there," he replied, "though most recently we were of the Free Cities."

'That would explain his accent,' the Hand thought as he tried to take the man's measure.

Robert nodded, glade to have the talk move away from the incident between the youths. "Cid is right," he finally decided. "Children are children, and sometimes they get hurt. It is fortunate that no serious injuries resulted."

"What of Joff's arm?" Cersei demanded.

"Perhaps it will make him think twice whenever he thinks to draw his blade," Robert stated firmly. "The Gods know that if Rhaegar had been taught to think twice or more he might be sitting on the throne now instead of me."

All who knew Robert the King knew that he did not invoke the late prince's name lightly, and those present knew to mind their tongues.

"Joff should be glad that Arya had a stick in her hand and not a sword else Tommen would be my heir now," he added.

For a moment no one dared to say anything as the king made to stand up. "What of the bitch?" Cersei finally said unrelentingly.

"What of her?" he replied.

"It attacked the Prince," she stated, glaring at the leashed beast.

"She was protecting her mistress," Cid stated. "Would not the Prince's Hound or any other guard have attacked his attacker had the situation been reversed? Would you punish them for defending their master?"

Again Robert nodded. "Cid is correct. The bitch did nothing warranting punishment. Be glad that I have decided to let things stand as they are and not to punish Joffrey for lying to the King. He is fortunate his actions did not start a war as Rhaegar's did."

Marach

The sound of clashing metal had long been replaced by that of fire-hardened wood clashing with wood and occasionally metal once the group had learned that their magic was far less effective in this world than they had been in their home world. Phoenix Downs were still capable of reviving an unconscious companion, but casting Revive would not prevent death. Their potions could heal almost any injury but they had only taken so many potions with them when they had left Ivalice.

In the two months that they had been in Westeros the team's primary healers had been forced to relearn essentially everything they had learned as chemists. For so long they had been used to being able to purchase completed potions they were now forced to find the individual components and brew the potions that they needed. As things currently stood they were able to brew basic potions and antidotes, just enough to alleviate the bumps and bruises from strenuous training with wooden weapons.

"Next?" Cid's voice called out to the group.

Eying the other youths, Marach sighed before standing up. Grabbing hold of his whale whisker staff he rolled his neck even as he stretched his back.

"What are you up to?" a new voice demanded.

The olive skinned youth noted the two score of knights in crimson cloaks standing around the camp.

"We are practicing," Cid stated as he eyed a particularly gruff man in the group of newcomers.

"He's the Lannister Master of Arms," his sister whispered without moving her lips. It was a skill that they had both learned during their training as assassins that continued to be useful in these times of peace that the group was supposedly experiencing.

"The one that was upset at Cid's remark about the prince's improper training?" he needed not ask for clarification. Though he had not been in the King's tent word of what had happened quickly spread throughout their camp and the other camps.

"You're practicing with sticks?" the Master of Arms scoffed.

"They are staves," Cid corrected.

"Do you not trust your boys with real steel?" It was a weak attempt to provoke the Cid. Marach doubted that this Master of Arms would have dared such had he known of Thunder God's reputation.

"I trust them with steel more than I trust you with it," Cid replied. "Tonight we are practicing with staves, though we have steel as well."

"Perhaps the reason why you have yet to find any work is because your boys cannot handle their steel," one of the Lannister knights japed.

"I'd wager that my wood is capable of besting five of you with steel." Those around him backed away, allowing the crimson cloaks to see him. From where he was he locked eyes with Ramza before the blond nodded.

From ten paces away he could hear the red cloaks muttering amongst themselves as they eyed the dark skinned stranger. Finally, "What do you wager?"

"One hundred gold dragons," Marach stated. "But since it is just myself against five of you I would think that you should put up at least two hundred dragons."

From where he stood he could see the Master of Arms sneer.

"Of course, that's assuming that you aren't honorable men," Cid interrupted. "An honest man would put his hundred dragons against mine, and since there are five of you that would be five hundred dragons. But since my boy's twice the man you are I'll let you each put in fifty dragons apiece."

"But the boy's using wood," someone else chimed in. The speaker wore a dark gray cloak, suggesting that he was from Winterfell.

"Lord Stark," Cid said with a slight bow of respect. "Would you be so kind as to hold the wager? It is after all a friendly bout."

"Of course," Eddard Stark replied.

Cool grey eyes looked him over before they turned to the crimson cloaks. Behind him several of his guardsmen watched the proceedings with keen interest. Clearly the Starks and Lannisters did not like each other.

"Fine," the Lannister Master of Arms grumbled as he pulled out a pouch. Counting out a hundred of the gold coins he set it in another man's palm. The same man collected coins from four other red cloaks before handing their money to the Hand.

Cid did the same, handing over the hundred dragons to Lord Stark.

"Draw blood or force my man to yield and you win," Cid stated loudly. "He will not stop until you are incapacitated or yield."

The five red cloaks shared a glance then nodded. "Agreed," the Master of Arms replied before Lord Stark could object.

"This is going to be easy," Marach heard one of the Lannister men state. "The one who forces him to yield gets the gold."

The others around him nodded their accent.

The whale whisker was a good three feet longer than he was tall giving him greater range than even the knight swords provided his opponents. In their troop only Ralpha and Temperance could match his skill with a staff, though Ramza was always a serious threat.

"On my mark," Lord Stark's voice boomed over the camp and the gathered spectators. Their swords and shields readied, the Lannister knights grinned in anticipation while their opponent stood calmly, his staff at his side as he gave a somber nod. "Begin!"

In a flash Marach was on the Lannister men. His first blow shattered the pine shield of the Master of Arms even as it drove the man back onto one of his companions.

Startled by his speed another Lannister knight had his feet knocked out from beneath him before the staff master retreated a step. The two knights still standing waited for their companions to regain their feet, giving the youth time to rush in once again. This time he broke a knight's helm with a strategically placed thrust.

Marach spotted his friend's hidden smirk as the blond watched the bout. He'd seen Ramza use this technique hundreds of times and had even endured it in their first battle against each other. Breaking his opponent's equipment to break their spirits rather than breaking their bodies – it was something only a master knight could accomplish. Though Ramza had never been knighted he had learned their techniques and put them to good use in the War of the Lions.

With the Lannisters unprepared for such an assault they would soon discover a fraction of how much they had underestimated their opponent. Taking advantage of his reach the former assassin carefully dissected his opponents as he alternated from breaking shields, helms and swords before the Master of Arms finally relented.

"Yield," he shouted as he attempted to guard himself with his broken shield and sword. "We yield!"

Sansa

The trip south had taken a dark turn for the eldest Stark daughter following the loss of Lion's Tooth as the Queen no longer invited her to ride in her carriage house stating that Joffrey needed to the quiet so that his arm could mend properly. That meant that her Prince could not accompany her either. With only Jane Poole and Septa Mordane to keep her company she was racking her brain for something to talk about. Surprisingly it was Arya who had saved her from her boredom.

Two days after the sell sword company had attached itself to the column a late summer rain fell. Though the King's Road was still passable it was a muddy mess. Unwilling to allow his daughter to ride in the rain, her father had ordered Arya to ride in the Stark wheelhouse. Though the headstrong girl had been hesitant to obey she had agreed once the Septa and her Lord Father consented to invite four guests.

The Stark wheelhouse was small when compared to that of the Queen's, but in truth it was a modest size comfortably fitting ten, adequate room for Septa Mordane, Jane, Sansa, Arya and her four guests.

"This is Septa Mordane," Arya said as she began to introduce her guests, "Jane Poole and my sister Sansa Stark."

The quartet offered nods of acknowledgement rather than dainty handshakes or hugs that most noble women preferred.

"I am Reis Duelar," the blonde woman stated as she pulled back her hood. Though it was clear that she was the oldest of the four, she was also the most beautiful of the group. Given the King's reputation it had been a good decision for her to remain hooded while outside with the men.

"Meliadoul Tengille," was a raven haired woman who could be described as attractive, though she was more handsome then beautiful. Unlike the older woman Meliadoul was stiffer and even a bit uncomfortable in the carriage house. Of the four she held herself the most like a man.

"Ralpha Sand," an olive skinned girl added with a curt bow. Her dark eyes quickly darted about the carriage house before she finally settled into a seat beside Arya.

"Alma Snow." Like her brother Alma could easily be mistaken for a Lannister. Only her sharp blue eyes and name suggested that she was not. Few Lannisters had traveled north of the Neck of their own volition and judging from her apparent age it was unlikely that Alma had been fathered during the Grayjoy Rebellion. She looked to be the youngest of the group, perhaps only a year or two older than Sansa.

The golden haired Alma Snow quickly took to Septa Mordane as the two debated and discussed the faith, the Seven, the old gods, and other matters of religion and theology, leaving the two older women to sit across from Sansa and Jane.

At first awkward silence filled the gap between them until finally Arya convinced Ralpha to sing them a song of the Far East.

Strumming the harp, the dark girl smiled as she tuned the instrument. Though she sang the song in a tongue that Sansa did not understand the elder Stark was entranced by the melody and the singer's honeyed voice. When the song was finally over Sansa noticed a blush on Reis' face.

Again it fell to her tactless sister to notice and remark, "Why are you blushing Reis?"

For what seemed like the first time Meliadoul smiled. The gesture was mirthful, easing away the hardness that had been set there. "The song tells of a woman who was loved and adored a noble Templar."

"Templar?" Arya interjected.

"A knight of the church," Alma explained as she joined the conversation.

"She was a beautiful woman, with a rare gift to match her beauty," Melaidoul added. "Unfortunately her beauty attracted the attention of a Celibate, one of the high ranking members of the church."

Septa Mordane huffed at the notion. Though their church was not like hers, the idea that a ranking official in the church could put his own interests over that of the church clearly offended her.

"Jealous of their love, the Celibate framed the Templar in an attempt to draw her attention away from her love and to him. When that failed he tried to punish the Templar. But when she discovered his plan she tried to save him, only to fall victim to the Celibate's curse herself."

Sansa gasped, "She loved him that much?"

Her attention on the story teller she failed to notice Reis' nod. "Yes, she did."

"What was the curse?" Jane asked.

"The woman was transformed," Ralpha replied as she sought the correct words. "She was turned into a dragon."

Again Sansa gasped.

"Ooh, that would be splendid," Arya exclaimed. "Imagine being able to fly in the sky and breathing fire! It must have been exciting!"

"Fearful that her love would fear and despise her, she flew away to a distant land. But her noble love pursued her. He traveled long and far searching for her. But when he finally arrived in the land she had exiled herself in he knew that he could not reach her."

"Why?" Jane pleaded.

Ralpha's sad smile only added to her tale. "The powerful spell that had transformed her had attracted many powerful creatures. Other dragons, behemoths, hydra, specters… all manner of evil creatures were drawn to her.

"Alone, her love knew that he could not reach her. So he sought to find another noble soul. Soon he found a young man of great courage and strength. With this young man and his loyal companions at his side the Templar was able to reach his love."

"Was he able to break her curse?" Sansa asked.

The songstress shook her head. "He saved her, but he did not have the cure. But the young man he had allied himself to convinced the Templar to stay with his group. Side by side they fought, revealing a plot by some in the church to seize control of the country with the use of holy stones. Finally the hero and the Templar defeated the conspirators and the holy stones. With the power of the stones they were able to break the curse binding the beautiful heroine."

"What love they must have had for each other to endure so much," Sansa sighed.

Unsatisfied with the tale Arya eyed the blond beauty. "That doesn't explain why you blushed."

"I am named after the heroine in that story," Reis replied.

Meliadoul's smile widened. "And the Templar in the story is named Beowulf, which happens to be your husband's name."

Sansa and Jane eyed the beautiful blond.

"Just a coincidence," Alma said with a gentle smile. "Being named after someone in a famous tale and meeting someone also named in the song tends to bring people together or force them apart."

"What about the hero?" Arya asked.

"That is a story for another day," Meliadoul replied. "It is far too long for even a day's ride. In truth it might be best shared over a fortnight. Besides, Ralpha had yet to complete the song."

Sansa eyed the songstress. "It is not my song. Ken is the one composing it; he merely taught me the Templar and Dragonkin's song that is part of the hero's tale."

"Ken?" Jane asked.

"Our scribe," Alma explained. "He's usually the one leading the aurochs."

"Dragonkin?" Arya asked as she looked at Reis.

"It means one related to dragons," Ralpha explained. "Because the Reis in the story had become a dragon she could communicate with them even after returning to her human form. The Targaryens are said to be Dragonkin as well, but with the last of the dragons they brought to Westeros gone they were eventually driven out as well."

Ramza

For two days their party had traveled with the King's column. After their sparring session with the Lannister knights word of their skill had quickly spread to the other camps in the column. The Starks had been around the most, though none of them had dared test themselves against the youths. Lord Renly was the first to approach Cid about hiring the troop on. His offer had been matched by many of the other lords but only the Lannisters and Starks had not extended them an offer.

After the Lannisters men had lost their money the first night several other knights from other entourages had come for some friendlier sparring and the occasional game of daggers. Some of the older men still ribbed the youngsters especially as some of them did not drink any wine, mead, or beer.

As the only group without any horses they were often the first to wake, break camp and set off, often before the King's entourage had even woken. A hard day's walk allowed them to make up the ground they would eventually lose to the horses, though Ramza lamented the fact that they did not have chocobos as the swift beasts would have allowed them to travel thrice as far.

Yet even with a trusty chocobo the trip to King's Landing would have taken them five days. In Ivalice most cities or castles were at most two or three day's ride away, less if you pushed the chocobos, but on foot mayhap a good week. Here castles were at least a good fortnight away with several holdfasts and inns separated by a day or two of steady marching.

If it where several thousand on the march rather than a few hundred it would take even longer to traverse the distance. As a small troop of fifteen it took them little time to set up and take down a camp.

"This is a large world," Radd stated as he matched his strides to Ramza's.

He nodded, "Yes it is."

Unlike those whom he had attended the academy with him and who looked to him as their default leader because of his station, he had to earn Radd's respect. As rivals under the dark knight they had often fought, both physically and verbally. Unlike the others who had been educated in Gariland, Radd had no formal education. His keen mind and physical skills were honed on the streets and further developed under Gaffgarion's tutelage. As such he provided Ramza with an altogether different perspective. When Ramza and the others had discovered Gaffgarion's true purpose and role in Ovelia's kidnapping the other had sided with Ramza out of blind loyalty while Radd had come to his decision on his own.

"Cid and Beowulf are with Renly again," Radd stated. "He hopes to curry our favor with horses."

Ramza nodded again. Even with the rainfall masking their conversation he did not feel comfortable speaking in the Common Tongue that was used in Westeros. *I would rather we not be employed by any of these lords,* he replied in Lesalian.

*The threat of war is in the air.* On his other side the former assassin slowed his stride so that he could fall into step beside the two blonds. As someone who was used to selling his services and blade Marach seemed to know when people were looking for someone who could walk in the shadows. *If we take a contract now we may not be getting the best price for our services.*

Radd turned his head and glanced at the crimson cloaks as they rode past on the other side of the road. *Our esteemed leader believes we need to prepare ourselves for a war.*

*The best way to prepare is to have gold,* Marach replied. *We have yet to test all of our equipment or to see if there is better equipment available.*

*We know how to maintain our equipment,* Radd insisted. *From what I've seen our equipment is more than sufficient.*

*We will not be pieces to be moved and sacrificed for the want of those merely grasping for power.* Though they had spent much of the past weeks learning the common tongue of Westeros, it was refreshing being able to speak his native tongue. *We head to King's Landing. There we shall see who is truly noble and who plays at being noble.*

A/N

I don't know why, but I've been unable to do anything beyond think and work on this fic. I plan to finish this, but I also plan to finish OHTOHT as well. I'll try to wrap that fic up soon so that I can move onto another project. Maybe even flesh this fic out.

Seriously, I don't know why but I've been on a Song of Fire and Ice kick lately. I haven't actually read the books, I've just been listening to them on audiobook while working. That's why I have to wiki the character's names, so please forgive me if I misspelled anything.

As for FFT, well, I'm still playing it on my PSPVita. It is definitely a classic and ground breaking game in so many ways. I was actually debating crossing Soul Caliber with GoT/SoFaI focusing on Hilde (actually I like Ivy and Taki, but decided that they would be too over powered plus they really wouldn't have any motivation to do anything in Westeros if you take Soul Caliber/Edge out of the equation).

Maybe I'll take up my FFT/FoZ fic again once I'm finished with OHTOHT….

Dreamingfox