The bright, fiery ball some know as the sun rose in the sky. Its light first bore down on Qarth which, contrary to popular belief, was not the greatest city that had ever been or ever will be, but that's a story for another time. Next, the powerful visible spectrum of radiation burned bright on the Red Waste, already burning the great desert, giving credence to the name. The Dothraki Sea felt the sun's warming rays next, followed by Valyria, Norvos, Pentos, and finally the great yellow ball of nuclear fire got a clear line of sight on a rocky, volcanic island at the mouth of a great bay.

The island was dominated by a truly massive castle whose walls and towers were made of great stone dragons. Some of the rocky beasts were made to look as though they were slumbering, others roared their silent defiance to the clear morning sky as others still looked off into the sea, perhaps on the lookout for potential enemy ships on the horizon. The only ships they spied, however, were friendly war galleys or merchant vessels laden down with cargo or coin.

The soft golden rays of the morning sun climbed the mountain that kept the giant dragon styled castle in its shade before the sun was finally high enough to catch the tall towers. One of the towers, which took the form of a grinning wyrm staring straight out from the mountain over the seas, caught the warm light with a window shaped like a dragon's eye and let the soft light wash over a spacious bedroom.

On the bed two figures were lying on their sides, the smaller one curled up with her back against the larger one. At the foot of the bed, leaning against a large wooden chest was a great battleaxe just about six feet long with a double edged head. Contrary to the dark, dire, and reptilian style of the castle itself, the room was decorated warmly, with a multitude of colors and skillfully crafted artwork from paintings, to sculptures, to the furniture itself.

Light had finally started to dominate the room, invading the closed eyes of one of the room's occupants, forcing the woman to wake.

…

Lynesse Stormcrown cracked an eye open and was immediately met by a sea of golden hair so fair some have mistaken it as Valyrian blonde.

With a groan of malcontent, the Lady of Dragonstone blew the offending follicles off her face, revealing the rest of the chambers to her sky blue eyes. The first thing to greet her is one of the only colorless objects in the room, her Lord husband's banner.

A white diamond dragon on a field of black, a simple, but powerful sigil, one that inspires fear in the hearts of many, and hope in the minds of others. The House Words were stitched below, though calling them words would be a stretch to many. Rather than letters, the writing looked as though it were drawn in the dirt by a flock of ravens.

Still, her husband assured her that they were in fact, words, only in the language of dragons. Seventeen years ago she would have scoffed at the notions of the overgrown fire breathing lizards having a language of their own, but time spent with her lord husband was a daily lesson in the impossible.

Kiir Do Bormahu, was the what these supposed words sounded like when spoken out loud. Complete gibberish to everyone but the Lord of Dragonstone and those few he had confided in. Children of Akatosh, was the translation Lynesse had learned from her husband, which only raised further questions to the uninitiated.

The second thing Lady Stormcrown noticed was that she was not alone in bed. Considering that she was married, many might think that she should not be too surprised by it. However, in seventeen years of marriage, the only times she had awoken to find her husband still asleep was when he was still recovering from a wound, or had only just crawled to bed himself after spending all night working.

Bright blue eyes flicked down to look at the muscled arm encircling her body, ending in a massive hand still groping one of her exposed breasts. As was typical for the couple, the pair were still naked from their marital activities the night before. The calluses acquired from a lifetime of hammering, be it with a hammer at the forge or with Wuuthrad on the battlefield, tickled the soft skin of Lynesse's bosom, something she had gotten used to rather quickly in their marriage. Lord Stormcrown may be one of the most dangerous warriors to have ever graced the planet, but he loved tits just as much as the next man, especially the ones attached to his wife's chest.

With a tired sigh, the still sleeping Lord of Dragonstone pulled his wife closer to him until her back was flush with his broad, muscular front. Lynesse wriggled in his arms, attempting to turn herself on her back so she may look upon her husband's face.

Seventeen years of marriage, four children, one rebellion and a half dozen tourneys and the former scion of House Hightower still couldn't bring herself to call her husband handsome. Their marriage had turned from one of convenience to one of love long ago, but all the love in the world could straighten the man's crooked nose that had been broken in a fight long before she had even met him. Nor could it change the heavy brow that hung over his eyes like a cliff. No amount of love could heal the jagged scars that ran down the left side of his face, a souvenir from his homeland he'll carry for the rest of his life.

Still, there were qualities that Lynesse quite liked about her husband, his rich chocolate eyes, capable of shining warmly with love, or burning with cold rage, a jaw line that could cut stone covered in short cropped sandy brown hair, and his thick sandy brown hair that she loved to run her hands through. His skin had a light olive tone, not dark enough to pass as Dornish, not pale enough to belong to any of the other kingdoms.

Her husband was also one of the tallest men she had ever met, towering over even King Robert Baratheon. Lynesse often found herself having to rise up onto her toes while he had to crane his neck just for the two to share a kiss. Of course there were his muscles, the kind maiden's dreams were made of. A childhood spent working the forge and a manhood spent crushing foes with the great battleaxe Wuuthrad had built a man in the image of the gods themselves. Oddly enough, the scars that littered his torso only seemed to make the flesh beneath more appealing to the former Hightower.

Then there was perhaps her favorite physical feature of her Lord husband, which had chosen this moment to alert the Lady Stormcrown of its presence.

Just as she was admiring her husband, the man himself let out a groan of sleep filled unhappiness, just before his deep brown eyes met Lynesse's shining blues.

"Good morning, dii kiim," Erik Stormcrown's rich baritone rumbled through both their bodies.

"Good morning, my love," Lynesse responded, turning the rest of the way to face him fully, "I must say, my Lord, still in bed at this hour? What will the castle do without you?"

Erik gave her that brilliant white smile she could never get enough of before going along with the joke, "The place will almost assuredly fall apart, perhaps they'll depose me as Lord in favor of someone who takes their duty more seriously?"

Lynesse let out a laugh at that. If there was one word that could describe her husband, it was dutiful. Doubtless if he was still in bed, then there likely wasn't much scheduled for the day.

Erik's own, much deeper, laughter joined his wife's before speaking again, "Actually I don't have court today, there are no guests, and the harbor master hardly appreciates it when I micromanage."

"So you have the day to yourself? What shall you do with all this free time?" Lady Stormcrown asked teasingly.

"I was going to inspect the walls, make sure they're in good repair, then most likely spend the afternoon in the training yard," the large man replied, "Let Baelor and Farkas have a go at their old man. Once Farkas is done with his lessons anyway."

Erik shifted in the bed again, pressing his body against his wife's before speaking again, "What about you, dii kiim?"

Lynesse put a contemplative expression on her face before answering, "I was thinking about going for a ride this morning, on my favorite mount."

Lord Stormcrown's brow furrowed in confusion, there weren't exactly many nice places to go riding, but he simply shrugged it off before moving to get out of bed, "Very well, I'll go notify the stables…"

A slender hand snaked around his chest before throwing him back on the bed. Lynesse straddled his hips and raised herself above his stiff manhood, "I wasn't talking about riding horses, My Lord."

…

Lady Stormcrown sauntered out of the room and down the tower stairs a few hours later, leaving her husband behind to get dressed as she went to set the servants on gathering breakfast for herself and her Lord husband.

As she moved through the ancient Valyrian stronghold Lynesse couldn't stop smiling at the colorful tapestries and bright paintings that decorated the halls. When she had first married Erik, Dragonstone was every bit as gloomy on the inside as it was on the outside, if not more so, but the longer she lived here, the more her background as a daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Westeros began to influence the castle.

Not that she was buying everything she could get her hands on and plunging her House into financial ruin. Rather she simply had redecorated the ancient fortress, almost mirroring her old home in Hightower of Old Town. Seven knows her husband wasn't likely to do it. The man was an unparalleled warrior, a master of the high seas, and an incredibly skilled lover, but didn't care much for interior design.

Reaching the Chamber of the Painted Table, Lynesse found her youngest daughter just sitting at the table to break her own fast.

Alerie Stormcrown was the smallest of Lynesse's four children, though she was almost ten minutes older than her twin Farkas. Just like her younger brother, the little lady had inherited much of her father. Sandy brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a charming smile, but unlike her brother, Alerie had developed after her own mother, growing into a short, slender frame that was only a few years from truly blossoming into a woman, but for now her father was glad she was still just a girl. Things had been hard enough for him when Rayya had become a woman grown.

"Good morning, Alerie," the Lady of Dragonstone greeted her youngest daughter, "I see your are up later than usual."

The girl's shoulder length hair flew as she spun her head around to see her mother standing in the doorway, "Mother! What are you doing here so late?"

"I thought to break my fast," the older woman said with a delicately arched brow, "Is this such a crime in my own castle?"

Erik's smile appeared on his daughter's face, "Well no! and besides, it's father's castle."

Lynesse laughed, "If this were still your father's castle it would still be a dark, damp, and lonely place. He may rule its occupants and the lands surrounding it, but I'd say I've earned the right to call this old chunk of stone mine."

"What would father think of that?"

"What would I think of what?" Erik asked as he stepped into the room, causing both mother and daughter to jump at the sound of his voice. For such a large man he could move from place to place without so much as a whisper.

"Gods be good, husband, are you trying to kill us?"

"I'd like to think that if I were trying to kill you, I'd do a better job," the Lord of Dragonstone replied.

"Okay," Alerie said, starting to sound suspicious, "Now I know something is going on. There's no way father would be in bed till so late."

"Your mother had me… occupied."

Lynesse beamed at her husband, she could still feel the after effects of their lovemaking inside her. Erik grinned back at her, a fierce light gleaming in his eyes, promising more to come later on. Unfortunately for Alerie, she managed to catch on to the looks between her parents.

"Oh, gross!"

"Manners young lady!" Lady Stormcrown scolded, "Did you leave all your courtesies behind in all your haste to leave your bedchamber before midday for the first time all week?"

They youngest woman of House Stormcrown immediately set herself to argue, "I've been up before midday!"

"Oh?" Lynesse's husband asked, "Where were you then? I looked for you at this very table, yet I did not see you. I have asked Maester Pylos about you, and he claims to not have seen you. Baelor, Rayya, Farkas, all ignorant of your whereabouts. You must have the powers of invisibility to remain so hidden."

The Lady of Dragonstone listened with humor as her husband and youngest daughter bickered back and forth as the woman herself moved around the huge table carved in the image of Westeros and took her usual seat right by her old home of Old Town just as the door at the south end of the room near Dorne swung open and two servants walked in carrying the food Lady Stormcrown had ordered just a few minutes before.

After breakfast, Erik sent Alerie on her way to her lessons with Maester Pylos. All of her children were unique, and Alerie was no exception. The girl was dedicated to learning the secrets of the human body, how it worked, how to treat injuries, even what points to press best to incapacitate another person. This had caused friction between the two women, Lynesse insisting that she did not raise a Faceless Man, while the young girl had been obstinate about the subject, insisting that it wasn't fair that Baelor and Farkas got to learn how to defend themselves, but she had to remain a helpless little lady.

Eventually it had lead to a shouting match between the two, one that got so out of hand, everyone in the castle, perhaps even the people in the rapidly expanding city below, was well aware of the fight. It had taken the Lord of Dragonstone himself to bring the fight to an end. Erik lacked the subtlety required for the political maneuvering necessary in the game of thrones, but what he lacked in subtlety he made up for with a powerful presence, that could bring anyone, even the woman who had seen him through all of his ups and downs, to heel. He didn't even really resolve anything himself, just forced the two women to resolve their own problems in a much quieter, much more agreeable manner.

Since then Lynesse had relented when it came to the girl's studies, but she still insisted that Alerie play the part of the lady when in court, or when at feasts or other official matters where appearances were needed to be maintained. In return Alerie was allowed to continue her studies with Maester Pylos and even got permission from her mother to learn to properly use a bow from her older brother, Baelor. She was a pretty good shot too, able to bullseye a target from nearly two hundred yards, something neither of her brothers had been able to manage despite having trained with one for much longer.

Lynesse climbed the stairs of Wyndwyrm, a tower of Dragonstone that was, unsurprisingly, shaped like a dragon, one which was screaming up into the sky. This particular tower was the home to perhaps the most unique resident of the castle, perhaps in the whole of Westeros.

"Focus," a musical, lilting voice said, "The flame is hot, intense, but not all consuming. You decide what it will burn, but only if you can focus on the fire and nothing else."

"It's difficult," another distinctly feminine, though much younger sounding, voice replied.

The Lady of Dragonstone entered the chambers at the top of the tower, finding two women seated cross legged on the floor of the room, one with her back to the door, and the other facing it. The woman facing Lynesse was short, slender, with a seductive build that was hidden well under thick blue robes. None of that made her unique, however. What did were the blood red eyes, dark blue, almost purple, black skin, and ears that were nearly six inches long and ended in a dagger like point.

The other figure was much less distinctive, though only for the fact that she was at least human. Rayya Stormcrown was much taller than her mother, and in fact was almost as tall as most men in her slippers as they were in boots. That was the only part of Lynesse's eldest daughter that one could confuse with a man. There was a time where people from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms spoke of the Lady Stormcrown's beauty, in fact many still spoke of it for age had only enhanced her already considerable beauty with motherly curves.

Rayya was well on her way to outpacing her mother there, tall and slender, with the same blonde hair, darker ocean blue eyes, and her father's pale olive skin giving her an exotic, alluring quality. At six and ten the elder daughter had already developed womanly hips, and a fair sized bosom that caused more than a few of the castle guard to turn their heads when she passed, or at least, they used to.

One day an unfortunate guard had been just a little too obvious with his gaze and Erik had seen it, quite correctly putting the pieces together. Needless to say that guard did not serve the House of Stormcrown anymore. It had taken all of Lynesse's considerable skill at manipulation to calm Erik enough to not beat the man to a bloody pulp. Unfortunately that was only the tip of the iceberg, for Lord Stormcrown couldn't just fire everyone who visited, or the families they visited.

It was somewhat amusing to Lynesse that Erik was taking their daughter's recent betrothal and not too distant wedding harder than Rayya was. Though most of the time it was annoying, to both mother and daughter that he felt the need to protect her all of the time, particularly when she could take care of herself.

This led to the elf woman sitting across from her daughter on the floor, a ball of fire suspended between her open hands. There was one between Rayya's hands as well, but the difference between the two was easily seen. The elf's was a bright yellow, steady ball of fire, whereas Lynesse's daughter's was flickering between yellow, red, and blue, all while shifting in size dramatically and giving off an intense heat.

"I understand it's difficult, but if you cannot control the fire, it will burn you just as easily as anyone else," the dunmer said to the girl in front of her, "And think of how you will look at your wedding without any eyebrows."

The sputtering ball of flame expanded violently and very nearly started to burn the young woman's clothes before the fire contracted back into a small, smooth, ball of flickering yellow light.

"That was mean, Brelyna," Rayya said, "even for you."

"You make it sound as though she does nothing but tortures you all day," Lady Stormcrown said to her daughter.

The ball of fire turned a violent blue for just a second as Rayya's concentration was broken for a second, but quickly returned to the steady flickering yellow, "Lady Maryon is well versed in many subjects, mother. Torture is just her favorite."

"Well, Brelyna," Lynesse said to the dunmer mage, "Don't get too carried away with the torture, as you said we want her looking all nice and tidy for her wedding."

With a groan, Rayya let the little ball of fire dissipate, "Why is everyone so focused on my wedding? What about Baelor? Why don't we all focus on him?"

"Because he doesn't have a match yet," Lynesse asked, "Not that your father has exactly been looking very hard."

"So it was more important to make sure I get married off?" Rayya asked.

The Lady of Dragonstone sighed, "The Starks came to us! Besides, I thought you liked Robb?"

"We've been writing each other since father came back with the news," the young woman corrected, "Hardly enough to know whether or not I like him."

Brelyna picked this moment to jump back in, "I remember when I was a girl, back in Morrowind. I exchanged letters with a boy I had met at one of my parent's feasts. He was the son of a noble on the island of Solstheim. I hardly ever saw him so our entire relationship was built off words on parchment. I was convinced I was in love with him."

Lynesse cocked her head, "What happened?"

The dunmer sighed sadly, "The Red Mountain would let off some pressure every couple of years, and Solstheim was just close enough, and maybe the wind was in the right direction. His home was crushed by a chunk of stone and buried in ash. I never even found out if he had been killed by the rock, or suffocated by the ash."

The silence in the room was deafening until Brelyna noticed the look on the two Stormcrown women, "Well at least you won't have to worry about volcanoes!"

Rayya smiled back at her mentor, "Well at least there's that, though there will be a lot of snow."

There was shouting outside the window of the chambers leading the three women over to the window facing the harbor. Not that there was much of a point, the shouting was coming from the docks, which were far too far away to actually see anything from the castle, though the view was still stunning, particularly for Lynesse who could still remember when there used to be nothing but a small fishing village where there was now more than ten thousand people, massive piers, warehouses, workshops, taverns, forges, barracks, everything a city needed to be a city, and it was growing quickly.

The island of Dragonstone had almost no natural resources to speak of. The only reason the Valyrians had built a castle on the hunk of stone sticking out from the sea was for its strategic location at the mouth of the massive Blackwater Bay, something Erik and Lynesse had used to their advantage.

House Stormcrown was growing wealthy and powerful quite rapidly, all by being nothing more than the proverbial middle man between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities. Merchants from the Free Cities sold their cargo to traders on Dragonstone who then sold it to the rest of Westeros, with a small percentage of each transaction being paid to the Lords of Dragonstone so they could continue to build and maintain the small but effective fleet of warships that kept the trade routes through the Narrow Sea clear of pirates.

Ironically, the addition of a middle man in the trade system had actually reduced prices. By shortening the trips made by traders from Essos and Westeros by half, merchants could make twice as many runs, and by ensuring that almost no ships were taken by pirates or Ironborn had made the trips much less risky for the traders, meaning they no longer had to hire sellswords to accompany them.

Many pointed to Erik as the mastermind behind the entire project, and protecting trade routes had been his idea, but Lynesse had been the one to suggest that traders from both continents offload their cargo on Dragonstone, and put a small tax on each merchant doing business there. Lord Stormcrown had wisely deferred to his wife's superior knowledge and experience when it came to trade, and as a result was able to focus on building a decent sized, well trained, well equipped, and battle tested standing army.

"It will also probably be a fair bit quieter," Brelyna added as they turned back from the window, "Though I don't know if that's a good thing."

"Your father assured me Winterfell is a lovely place," Lynesse assured her daughter, "Besides, your father is taking this much harder than you."

"Why is he so worried about me?" Rayya asked, "Brelyna has taught me more magic than father could ever learn! I can take care of myself."

Lady Stormcrown sighed before responding, "He's not worried about you being beaten, he's worried that Robb may indirectly hurt you. Say the wrong thing, not appreciate you like he should. He remembers when he was your age, and when there was only one thing on his mind."

"Do you think father has any bastards back in Skyrim?"

"RAYYA!" Lynesse screeched in shock at the question. Brelyna was quiet for a moment before bursting out with laughter at the audacity of the question.

"What?" the eldest daughter asked, "He told us about his adventures in his homeland, I bet he had quite a following back home."

Lady Maryon finally managed to get her laughter under control long enough to answer the young woman's question, "Your father was known for having a girl or two in every hold in Skyrim, but I know for a fact he never had any children before he married your mother."

"How can you be sure?" Lynesse's daughter asked a question the Lady of Dragonstone was suddenly interested in having an answer for.

"Because I knew all of these women," the dunmer mage said as she moved over to pitcher to pour herself some water, "And none of them were ever pregnant, your father was far too careful for that."

The she-elf then moved over to the book shelf and grabbed a heavy tome titled The Horror of Castle Xyr before handing it to Rayya, "Now I want you to read this tonight, it should help you concentrate on your destruction spells, and for your mother's sake you should likely avoid speaking of bastards."

"Robb told me he has a bastard brother named Jon."

"Rayya," Lynesse said, pinching her forehead, "Just go and do as Brelyna says."

"Of course mother, Lady Maryon," the girl, using her lessons in courtesy, curtsied as she slipped down the stairs of Wyndwyrm with the heavy book in her hands.

The former Hightower turned to the she-elf, "She's improving?"

"Greatly my Lady," Brelyna answered, "Destruction appears to be the only school she struggles with, though the way her father struggled with any magic it's a wonder she's able to conjure a ball of light, never mind the fact she's already one of the most skilled Healers I've ever met."

"You know I'm still not sure how I feel about my daughter learning magic," Lynesse admitted, "If the people of Old Town knew they might brand her a dark witch and bring the might of the Faithful down on us."

"My Lady," the mage began, "I have known your daughter since she was seven, taught her as much as she was willing to learn. Which as it turns out is quite a bit. I refuse to believe the smart, witty, sometimes sarcastic girl I've come to know is an affront to any of the gods. Be they the Nine or the Seven."

The Lady of Dragonstone nodded in agreement, "I know, but as I've come to know, people rarely choose to listen to reason, they just act. Good day Lady Maryon."

"Good Day, my Lady."

Lynesse made her way out from the castle walls to the courtyard to enjoy the rare sunshine on the usually gloomy island of Dragonstone, and also to watch her two sons train with the castle guard.

She picked her eldest out easily. A tall, broad shouldered, powerfully built young man was surrounded by three guardsmen. The Heir to Dragonstone spun gracefully as he avoided, parried, and counterattacked with a grace that belonged to a man with many more years experience than a boy of seven and ten years.

Baelor was the spitting image of his mother in the face, with the exception of that powerful jaw and charismatic smile that belonged to his father. Golden curls kept short upon the insistence of his father glistened with the sweat of exertion as he ducked underneath one swipe from one soldier before blocking the follow up attack by the guard that had circled to Baelor's left.

Wrenching the sword down, Lynesse's son pressed the attack with a speed that was almost supernatural and disarmed the man in less than three strikes, just in time to jump back from the recovering soldier's attempt to catch Baelor off guard.

The remaining two soldiers pressed their attack, but with skill and speed the young Stormcrown parried each attack with his blunted steel longsword before locking blades with the guard on his left and used the strength he had inherited from his father to shove the unfortunate man in his companion's way, slowing the second one down long enough for Baelor to deflect the man's sword high and deliver a powerful kick to his midsection, knocking the second guard to the ground and out of the fight.

The last guard recovered and moved to attack. With practiced ease, the Heir to Dragonstone parried the three successive strikes before surging forward after he knocked the last strike wide and placed the dull edge of the practice sword against the soldier's throat.

"Yield," the man said with exhausted exasperation. Clearly this was not the first time he had been on the receiving end of Baelor's practice blade, and likely wouldn't be the last.

"That was good, boy," a deep, accented voice commented, "but you're still relying on counterattacks too much. Your enemy won't always be so easily maneuvered, particularly on a battlefield when quarters can get tight."

Lynesse's bright, sky blue eyes shone from her son's face as Baelor turned back to the man who had taught him nearly everything he knew about the sword. Vilkas was as tall and stern and as northern as he was the day he had been brought into House Stormcrown's service, though his hair was streaked with silver and a few lines had begun to show on what most women considered a very handsome face.

"You think I need to attack more?" Baelor asked the former Companion. The young man had inherited blonde hair blue eyes, and a handsome face from the Hightowers, but his tall, powerful frame and commanding baritone were all from his father.

Vilkas nodded as he helped one of the guardsmen up, "You have been blessed with the speed and strength of your father. Use your speed to your advantage and press the attack while they are attacking."

The handsome young heir screwed his face in confusion, "Isn't that just a preemptive counterattack?"

"Call it what you will," the Nord shrugged, "but it will save your life in a battle. Here, I'll walk through it with you. Soldier! Come here."

The soldier he had called ran up to the Captain of the Guard, "Ser?"

"Attack me," Vilkas instructed. The man hesitated and the Nord reassured him, "You won't hurt me."

"It's not you I'm worried about, Ser," the soldier answered honestly, but did as instructed anyway.

The soldiers of Dragonstone were a battle tested lot, having fought pirates on the high seas and chased them into their burrows on forgotten islands scattered through the Narrow Sea. The soldier swung his sword with experience and grace, but Vilkas made the man look like a fool as the large man simply sprang forward and grabbed the man's sword hand with his free hand.

The soldier attempted to bash the former Companion away with his shield, but with a display of agility a man of Vilkas' size should not possess, the Nord simply side stepped the shield and pushed his larger body into the soldier's chest, knocking him to the ground where he found a sword pointed at his throat.

With a mild groan of pain, the soldier yielded to the Captain of the Guard.

"Do you see what I did there, boy?"

Baelor nodded in understanding, having watched the exchange with an astuteness that had always impressed Vilkas and Erik, "I think so. You used speed and size to your advantage to end the fight quickly. It's useful against one opponent but what multiple enemies?"

Vilkas called over a couple more of the castle guard. This time three soldiers attacked in unison, with the precision and teamwork that came with real battle experience, and once again the Nord made them look like green boys who had never held real steel before.

Again he grabbed the middle soldier's sword hand and dodged the follow up push with the shield, but instead of throwing the soldier to the ground, Vilkas pushed the man into one of his compatriots, knocking them both to the ground. The mighty warrior then spun with an easy grace to smash through the skilled attack of the third man and put a massive shoulder into the soldier's chest, throwing the man off his feet and to his ass.

Her son once again showed the astute, eager mind of warrior scholar, "I think I understand. You don't want me to rely on my sword. You think I should also use my body as a weapon?"

"Exactly," Vilkas said, "You rely on your blade as any knight would, but most knights aren't built like you. You're big, strong, and fast, and that is an advantage few others have, and even fewer practice to defend against."

"So you're saying I could be better," Baelor commented.

Vilkas laughed, "Everyone could be better, but you're already better than most when it comes to that sword."

Lynesse's eldest son smiled at his mentor, until the older man spoke again, "You're absolute shit with that ax though."

Baelor laughed along with Vilkas at that, "That's fine, Farkas can have Wuuthrad, I'll keep Storm's Wrath for myself though."

Lynesse picked that moment to interject, "You're father may let you use the sword, but it's not yours yet, my son."

Her son's handsome face lit up in a smile as he turned to look at her, sweat flying from his golden curls as he did so, "Mother! You're finally up, what took you?"

"Your father kept me," the former scion of Hightower said, throwing a wink at Vilkas as she did so. Baelor's grin dropped at the suggestion and grew into a face of terror at the implanted mental image, causing the Captain of the Guard to laugh in his student's face.

The bells of Dragonstone tolled again, ringing to let the people of the castle and the city below know that it had finally reached midday. Soldiers all throughout the courtyard began putting their blunted training swords on weapon racks around the training yard and picking up their real weapons. Each soldier used a seven foot spear as their primary weapon, but carried a longsword for backup and close quarters and a broad square shield. Captains were allowed more leeway with their weapon choice, and more than a few were seen with long axes or greatswords, though a few preferred a hand and a half longsword.

One of the three soldiers who had been training with Baelor and Vilkas stepped towards the Captain of the Guard, "Ser Vilkas, it is time for our duty shift at the docks, unless you have further need of us?"

"You are dismissed, Sergeant," Vilkas told the soldier.

As they turned to leave Baelor got their attention. When they turned to the young Lord he pulled a pouch from his belt that jingled with the promise of coin, "Thanks for training with me today, drinks are on me tonight!"

The sergeant caught the coin pouch and nodded graciously, "Thank you, milord!"

Lynesse cocked an eyebrow at her eldest son who looked back, "What? They let me knock them around the training yard all day, least I can do is buy them some drinks."

"They don't let you knock them around," Vilkas said, "They're trying their hardest to knock you flat on your ass, as your father and myself ordered them to. You've earned every strike you've ever landed with your sword in this courtyard."

"Regardless it was still generous, Baelor," Lynesse told her son, "You will make a great Lord of Dragonstone."

"Thank you, mother," he replied before asking, "Do you know if father will be joining us in the training ring today?"

"He said he would be down here to test both you and Farkas, to see how far you've come."

"Uh-Oh," a new voice said. All three turned to the source to find an extremely tall and lanky young lad with his father's face and his mother's eyes.

"Oh don't sound so glum little brother!" Baelor said to the younger son, "I'm sure he won't break any bones! We leave for Rayya's wedding in just two days after all! I doubt the Starks would be impressed if we showed up in casts!"

Farkas hardly looked very comforted. Lynesse's youngest child, Farkas was ten minutes younger than Alerie's five and ten but already taller than everyone else in the family at nearly seven feet. Sandy brown hair, sky blue eyes, and his father's heavy facial features, Farkas was more his father than the other three, though in his mother's obviously biased opinion he was considerably more handsome than Erik. To be fair, a pair of service maids she had overheard appeared to share Lynesse's opinion, saying that he would be quite the catch once he filled out more.

The boy was already filling out into manhood; lanky arms were coated in corded muscle that showed the promise to expand with age. According to Erik, he had once been just as skinny as Farkas, but had filled out quickly once he began practicing with real steel. Baelor had been the same, filling out into the tall, powerful young man standing on the stone courtyard today.

What Farkas didn't share with his father, or his mother, or any other member of his family was an undeniable, almost adorable sweetness. The boy simply didn't have the same mean streak his father was famous for and the rest of the family was certainly known to have. Unfortunately the reason for this kindness was the result of what his mother feared was a slow mind.

Not to say the boy was dimwitted, but he struggled in his lessons with Maester Pylos. Numbers seemed to elude him, and any lessons about other Houses and their Words just seemed to slide right off of him. Farkas knew he wasn't as smart as his siblings, and it definitely hurt the boy's feelings. His siblings, and his mother all tried to help him, to show their support for him, unfortunately made him feel worse. In fact the only people who made him feel better about it was Erik and Vilkas, telling Farkas that he was exactly like his namesake. Large, strong, a fearsome warrior, perhaps he was uneducated but the first Farkas was smart in his own right, and could not rightly be looked down upon by anyone, regardless of how much 'smarter' they were.

So Farkas had dedicated himself to living up to Vilkas' twin brother, and the legacy the Companion had left with his brother Vilkas and his best friend Erik. The boy took up the ax, a symbol of strength, and was unerringly loyal, and an absolute sweetheart. He was the favorite brother of the other three children, and made easy friends with almost everyone he met, and was rapidly turning into the castle guard's nightmare on the training yard.

"You forgot about Rayya's lessons, brother," Farkas replied, "She can heal broken bones with a wave of her hand."

Baelor's face fell, "Oh… yeah… right."

A deep, booming laugh filled the courtyard, turning all four heads to Erik Stormcrown as he walked out in his ebony armor, similar in build to Vilkas' steel Wolf armor, but where there was a howling wolf on the former Companion's armor, there was a roaring dragon with its maw pointing straight out from Erik's chest. The Lord of Dragonstone was holding a broad diamond shaped ebony shield with the white dragon of his House's sigil molded directly into the metal in his left hand, while he gave lazy swings with the huge ebony battleaxe, Wuuthrad.

"Don't worry, I'll not break any bones," Erik told his sons, "Your mother would have my head!"

"Not your manhood?" Vilkas asked his old friend.

"Oh I already have that!" Lynesse japed, "Why do you think we stopped at four children?"

"And this morning?" her husband asked.

The Lady of Dragonstone smiled back, "Well every now and then I like to take it out of the glass cage and have some fun!"

"Gross," Farkas said.

"Yeah you really don't need to fill us in on that," Baelor told his parents before turning to Farkas, "Mother was already making lewd jokes before you got here."

"Well why don't you two take your mind off of it and get Farkas warmed up while I test our good Knight Vilkas here. Make sure he's up to form," Erik told his sons, pointing his head towards a massive claymore still in its scabbard leaning against the east wall of the stone courtyard.

Farkas and Vilkas both walked over to the wall, the Captain of the Guard putting the blunt training sword away and grabbing the claymore while Lynesse's youngest child grabbed a blunted steel battleaxe.

The knight unsheathed the giant claymore, revealing the smoky surface of the Valyrian… no, Skyforge Lynesse had to remind herself, steel. Every house wanted a Valyrian steel weapon to its name. House Hightower once had a Valyrian steel sword, Vigilance, though it had been lost for some time. House Lannister was much the same, and any house that did have a Valyrian steel sword was considered unbelievably lucky, and here House Stormcrown was in possession of two.

Technically the both weapons were actually Skyforge steel, but according to the practiced eye of Erik, the difference between the two was exclusively the location in which they were forged. The spell bonded steel was dark and smoky in coloration, lighter than other swords of the same size, and stronger than even the best castle forged steel with an edge that would never dull.

Also the massive claymore didn't actually belong to House Stormcrown, as it was Vilkas' sword from his days as a Companion, but the sword Storm's Wrath was forged for Erik as a second weapon in his days as the Harbinger of the Companions, and actually belonged to House Stormcrown.

The four combatants took their spots opposite their sparring partner as Lynesse simply took a seat on the bench at the edge of the courtyard to watch her boys train, knowing that her daughters would soon be down to do the same.

Just as the first sounds of steel ringing echoed through the courtyard, something on the mountain top behind the great castle shifted, drawing the sky blue gaze of Lady Stormcrown to the dark obsidian peak.

A giant ruby dragon shifted again as it basked in the sun. Odahviing would sleep through the day, out of sight from the people in the city, and only visible to people in the castle who knew what they were looking for. Lynesse smiled before turning her head back to the four men clashing in the courtyard.

Today was turning out to be a wonderful day.

Gasp! This isn't the crossover I promised in my other story! This is actually a story I have wanted to do for quite some time, just hadn't really worked up the courage to do it yet. There are a lot of Skyrim GOT crossovers out there, but hopefully this is one of the more original attempts. It's not the trueborn son of Robert angle, though I am a huge fan of Son of the Seven Kingdoms. It's a great fic I recommend it, and it's not the 'Daedra sends the Dragonborn to Westeros to stop the White Walkers'. Well it's kind of like that, but most of those stories start with the Dragonborn showing up right before the first book/season, or in the middle of the series.

Now some of you are saying, hey Ranschaj, what the hell are you talking about? According to the ages of the kids your story is starting right before the first book! WRONG! This is just the set up chapter. Sort of like I'm showing you the destination before we start the journey kind of thing. The next chapter will take place eighteen years before this chapter, and the story will continue from there. Unless you guys decide you don't want me to continue this story, in which case I'll stop writing it, but I would like you to know that I've had a lot of fun writing this chapter, in fact it only took the weekend to knock this baby out with zero work, barring some PM's with other writers, before hand.

For those of you who are desperately waiting for an update for Mass Emile, you can stop holding out hope. That story's dead. Noble Intentions is following, unfortunately. It was perhaps my best work, but the problem lies in the fact that I don't actually like the Marvel Universe. I mean Deadpool's cool, so is Captain America, but I honestly hate, hate, HATE a lot of the other characters in Marvel. They're just so… douchey.

JL:Dragonborn is obviously still alive, as is the Spartan and the Dragon, though you obviously will have wait for my stupidly long update times, though hopefully they'll be shorter than they were before. Obviously my promises are worth approximately the same as human feces, but it's the best I can do…

Please drop a review, let me know what you think of the OC's children, of the Dragonborn's wife, and especially about the two Skyrim characters I've brought in, Vilkas of the Companions and Brelyna Maryon from the College of Winterhold.

So again, review, because I don't want to write what you guys don't want to read.