The Watchers On The Couch

Chapter 4: Cripples, Bastards and Broken Things.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own 'Game of Thrones' or any of its characters.

"Jon, do you think there's something wrong with father?" Robb asked in a hushed voice.

"I can't say for sure, but it looked like seeing Arya train reminded him of something." Jon replied quietly and turned to Sam. "What do you think Sam?"

"W-well, if I had to guess, I would assume it was from the war… When he was talking to the Kingslayer, they talked about his brother and father dying. He probably has many painful memories from that time…"

"Yeah, he also lost his sister, aunt Lyanna, and he always told us that Arya reminded him of her" Robb said somberly

The atmosphere had been a bit awkward with their fathers' sudden reaction to the last episode and no one had really wanted to bring the matter up. Thus, they had all remained quiet until the next episode started.

Bran stood in Winterfells courtyard practicing with his bow, when his eyes caught sight of a crow.

The viewers eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"Bran! He's walking!" Catelyn nearly shouted, hands coming up to her mouth.

"W-what?"

"But… But how?"

"By the gods…"

The crow flew by and the little boy followed.

Robb snapped out of his stupor and his shock quickly turned into jovial laughter. "He can walk! Jon! He can walk!" He yelled and slung an arm around his half-brother.

The awkward mood that had been lingering was replaced by the sound of relief and happiness.

Tyrion and Ned, however, eyed the scene skeptically.

How could the boy walk again? That fall was enough to kill an adult, yet here Brandon stood completely unhurt? No, this was just too surreal, something here was wrong.

"Hold on…" Ned said, tone serious and the others who were cheering suddenly looked to him in confusion.

"What is it, father?"

"Something isn't right here… Where are all the people?" Ned said, eyes narrowed.

Their eyes went to the screen and some seemed to catch on, namely the older ones.

"What are you talking about, my Lord?" Theon asked unsurely.

Tyrion decided to answer his query. "Look closer at the screen, there are no people there. It's most likely midday, the castle should be brimming with people at this point, yet there are no people around. Don't you find that strange?"

Indeed, it was strange, Jon noted. Winterfell was usually full of life at this time of the day. At the very least, the guards should've been out there. What was going on?

The crow caws repeatedly, flying into the crypt where Bran follows.

"This is getting creepy…"

As Bran enters the crypts, he makes eye contact with the raven and sees that it has three eyes.

"What the fuck?!" is the common reaction among the audience.

Bran's eyes snap open and he is shown laying neatly tucked into his bed, his dire wolf keeping silent vigil by his side.

"Dear gods above, I thought he was really seeing a three eyed raven for a second." Sam said.

"The little Lord's been dreaming again." An aged voice speaks and Bran sighs at Old Nan, who's knitting by the fire.

"This old fuck again, she's so damn creepy, I tell you." Theon sighed when he saw the old woman.

"Hold you tongue, Theon." Ned admonished the boy and Theon nodded swiftly.

The door creaks open and Theon pokes his head through the door. "We have visitors." He says after eyeing the dire wolf warily.
"I don't want to see anyone." Bran replies in a petulant voice.
"Really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad. Anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting."

Ned facepalmed at the boy's choice of words and Theon could feel his face heat up.

"I don't want to go."

Theon sighs exasperatedly. "Neither do I. But Robb's Lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says and you do what I say. Hodor!"

A giant of a man walks in hurriedly. "Hodor?"

"Help Bran down the hall." Theon orders. The giant replies with an understanding 'Hodor' and lifts the child, doing as he's bid.

[Tyrion standing in front of Robb and Maester Luwin inside the Winterfell castle.]

"I must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit." The dwarf's sound bounced off the stone walls of the hall.

Robb straightened in his seat, seeing himself sitting in his fathers' spot for the first time. This was what father had been raising him for his entire life and seeing it finally happen was captivating to say the least.

"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell." Robb replied from his seat at the head table.

"Any man of the Night's Watch, but not I, eh, boy?"

"I'm not your boy, Lannister." Robb gritted his teeth. "I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"Then you might learn a lord's courtesy."

Ned sighed and Robb flushed a bit. Seemed like Robb had to be taught to contain his temper.

[Hodor enters carrying Bran.]

"So it's true…" Tyrion whispered, eyes wide as the giant carrying the cripple approached. "Hello Bran." Tyrion greeted when they stopped next to him, Theon trailing behind. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day." Maester Luwin answered from his seat next to Robb.

"Curious…"

"Why are you here?" Robb asked, patience wearing thin in the presence of the man whose family supposedly tried to murder his little brother.

Ned looked at Robb seriously. "Robb, you know better than that. When a guest comes into your house, you offer him bread and salt, and a place to sleep." Robb nodded, knowing his fathers' words to be true.

Tyrion didn't deign that with an answer, instead choosing to talk to the little boy. "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt." He said, and Bran complied with his request.

«Kneel, Hodor»

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" Tyrion asked when he was eye level with the child.

"Yes. I mean, I did like to"

"The boy has lost the use of his legs." Luwin informed.

Jon winced slightly at that. Maester Luwin was always blunt and straight to the point.

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

That piqued the interest of the audience.

"I'm not a cripple" Bran interjected.

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it." Tyrion joked and reached into his coat. "I have a gift for you. Give this to your saddler. He'll provide the rest. You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice." Tyrion explained after handing Bran a scroll.

"Will I really be able to ride?"

Tyrion smiled softly. "You will. On horseback you'll be as tall as any of them."

Dany smiled fondly, that was such a sweet and thoughtful gift.

Jon smiled too. The dwarf was proving to be a kind and smart man. Lord Tyrion didn't judge him for being a bastard, instead giving him advice and keeping him company, and now he had done his brother a kindness.

Robb felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He knew that Tyrion was innocent, unlike his TV-counterpart, and even if his other self didn't know what he now knew, it was still not acceptable to behave like he had.

"I… I apologize for my rude behavior; I should not have let my anger overcome me." Robb said to Tyrion.

Tyrion turned to the boy, smiling slightly at the sincere apology. "Think nothing of it. No harm was done. It hasn't even happened yet."

Ned smiled at his eldest son, then turned to Tyrion and gave him a nod of thanks.

Robb was thoroughly confused at this point. "Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot it my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things."

Robb straightened in his seat. "You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."
Tyrion snorted at that. "Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier."

Catelyn frowned. She could understand that her son was angry. She would've been angry too. However, Robb's hospitality wasn't granted, but rather he forced himself to exchange hospitality for Tyrion's kindness. Such hospitality wasn't worth anything.

[Before Tyrion exits Winterfell for the brothel, Theon sees him off in the courtyard.]

"Couldn't resist some northern ass?" Tyrion rolled his eyes when he saw Ned Stark ward approaching. "If you like redheads, ask for Ros."

Catelyn shot Theon a glare that could've turned him to ash, but Theon just kept his eyes forward, not daring to look back at her. Meanwhile, Robb and Jon laughed at his plight.

"Come to see me off, Greyjoy? Kind of you. Your master doesn't seem to like Lannisters."

"He's not my master." Theon scowled.

"No, of course not." Tyrion sighed and let his eyes roam over the castle yard. "What happened here? Where is lady Stark? Why didn't she receive me?"

"She wasn't feeling well." Theon responded.

"She's not in Winterfell, is she? Where did she go?" Tyrion questioned.

"You catch on fast, dwarf." Bronn said, honestly impressed at Tyrion's quick mind, making Tyrion smirk.

"My lady's whereabouts..."

"My lady? Your loyalty to your captors is touching. Tell me, how do you think Balon Greyjoy would feel if he could see his only surviving son has turned lackey? I still remember seeing my father's fleet burn in Lannisport. I believe your uncles were responsible."

The halfling sure knew how to rile someone up. He was devious and cunning, much like his father, though not cruel. The way Tyrion pushed people's buttons, making them flare up yet leave them unable to do anything in return, almost drew a smile from the Hound. Almost.

"Must have been a pretty sight." Theon replied haughtily with a smirk.

"Nothing prettier than watching sailors burn alive. Yes, a great victory for your people. Shame how it all turned out." Tyrion retorted and Theon's smirk promptly fell away.

"We were outnumbered 10 to one." Theon started, but was cut off again by the Lannister dwarf.

"A stupid rebellion then. I suppose your father realized that when your brothers died in battle. Now here you are, your enemy's squire."

Theon was silently seething in his place. That damnable dwarf and his silver tongue kept getting the best of him.

Ned's mind went back to the Greyjoy Rebellion. Almost a decade ago Balon Greyjoy, head of house Greyjoy, had declared himself the King on the Iron Islands and lead the rebellion with the strength of their ships. But due to their lack of funding and overall numbers, King Robert and the Iron Throne defeated the Greyjoy's mainly due to Stannis.

Ned could clearly remember how he had charged at the siege of Pyke, alongside the Kingslayer, Jorah and even Thoros of Myr with his flaming sword.

Balon's eldest sons had been killed and Balon had been forced to give up his only son Theon as a Ward to himself.

"Careful, Imp." Theon snarled, but Tyrion wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"I've offended you. Forgive me, it's been a rough morning. Anyway, don't despair. I'm a constant disappointment to my own father and I've learned to live with it." Tyrion said and tossed Theon a coin. "Here, your next tumble with Ros is on me. I'll try not to wear her out."

[In the courtyard of Castle Black, Jon Snow is giving the group lessons in fighting. As Alliser marches in with a new recruit, Samwell Tarly.]

Robb smiled. "Seems like you've made some new friends, Snow." He said and gave Jon a strong pat on the back. Jon just chuckled and pushed him playfully.

"Leg, shoulder, leg. Left foot forward. Good. Now pivot as you deliver the stroke. Put all your weight behind it." Jon instructed Grenn, but Grenn seemed to catch sight of something behind Jon.

"What in the seven hells is that?" Green asked in shock when he saw Ser Alliser approaching with an oversized recruit struggling to keep up.

Bronn who was drinking his wine, chocked at the sight before him. Tyrion's eyes widened and mouth fell agape, while the Hound palmed his face. "For fuck sake…"

"They'll need an eight hell to fit him in" Pyp joked and the others laughed.

Jon and Robb stared at the scene not knowing what to say. Ned snorted.

Ser Alliser halted in front of the trio. "Tell them your name" He ordered.

"Samwell Tarly, of Horn Hill… I mean I was of Horn Hill, I… I've come to take the black." Sam said in between deep breaths.

"Come to take the black pudding" Rast replied. Grenn and Pyp snorted, but Jon didn't seem amused.

Bronn erupted into a fit of laughter, sometimes coughing. Tyrion by his side was trying to tell him to stop laughing, but couldn't hold himself back at the sight and joined in on the laughter.

"H-his face! Ahahah! His fucking face ahahah!" Bronn squeaked out amidst it all.

Sam went beet red when he saw even the stoic Ned Stark chuckle and his lady wife look away with a hand to her mouth, pretending to be coughing. Davos was holding his nose trying not to laugh, but the tears in his eyes and his shaking gave away that he too found the scene hilarious.

Sam's entire body was flushed. Gods it was embarrassing! Even he was tempted to laugh when he saw himself walking into the training yard, sweat glistening on his face and looking ready to eat an auroch whole.

"Well, you couldn't be any worse than you look." Ser Alliser said, eyeing Sam with undisguised disgust. "Rast, see what he can do."

Rast and Sam stood opposite each other and when the match started, Sam fell to the ground after only one hit, whimpering.

"I yield! Please, no more…" Sam cried out.

"That was…"

"Pathetic." Bronn finished and Sam's face flushed in embarrassment at the degrading display. Ned was pretty sure that even Arya could put up more of an opposition than this kid.

"On your feet. Pick up your sword. Hit him till he finds his feet." Ser Alliser ordered and Rast rained down on Sam with vicious blows, Sam screaming and whimpering after each hit. "It seems they've run short of poachers and thieves down south. Now they send us squealing bloody pigs… Again, harder." Rast did as told. When Jon was about to intervene, Pyp held him back by the should with a pointed look.

"Ah! I yield!" Sam yelled.

"Enough! He yielded." Jon growled out through gritted teeth and then grabbed Sam by the scruff of his neck, pulling him to his feet.

Ned smiled; he had raised his son to be a good man.

"Looks like the bastard's in love. All right then, lord Snow, you wish to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You two." Ser Alliser gestured for Pyp and Grenn to step forward. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make lady piggy squeal. All you've got to do is get past the bastard."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jon asked the two when they finally took their place opposite of Jon, together with Rast."

"No." Grenn replied shaking his head. He truly didn't want to get his ass kicked yet again. Pyp also looked nervous about the whole thing.

Sansa frowned. Why did the Ser Alliser dislike Jon. Yes, he might be a bastard and they were frowned upon, however Jon himself hadn't done anything deserving of this treatment. He was actually one of the few good men at the wall, considering most of the recruits were poachers and thieves.

The three guys attack Jon, trying to get to Sam, but Jon successfully fends them all off. Rast is the first to engage and is quickly dealt with by a knee to the gut and a hit to the face. Pyp is knocked back by a backhanded slap to the face,"

Ouch. Davos grimaced. That one was nasty.

"-and Grenn is disarmed and knocked back with an elbow to the chest.

"Yield yield yield! I yield." Grenn shouted hurriedly when he saw Jon approaching him yet again.

"We're done for today. Go clean the armory. That's all you're good for." Ser Alliser said and walked off.

"Nicely done, Jon. You seem to have gotten much better." Robb gave Jon a pat on the back and Jon smiled. Arya was also positively in awe of her brothers' skill.

Pyp decided this was the best time to annoy Grenn. "Well fought!"

"Piss off."

"Did he hurt you?" Sam asked Jon timidly.

"I've had worse."

"You can call me Sam... If you want. My mother calls me Sam."

"It's not going to get any easier, you know? You'll have to defend yourself." Jon said.

"Why didn't you get up and fight?" Grenn was more than a bit peeved.

"I wanted to. I just couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I'm a coward." Sam sighed dejectedly. "My father always says so."

Jon frowned and the others shared a look. "The Wall's no place for cowards."

Ned couldn't help but agree. The only reason why taking the black was allowed as an alternate to getting executed, was because it was one of the worst places you could end up. And even then many choose death over the Wall.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I just... Wanted to thank you." Sam said with a nervous smile and walked off towards the armory.

"A bloody coward." Grenn spat. "People saw us talking to him. Now they'll think we're cowards too."

"You're too stupid to be a coward." Pyp shot back.

"You're too stupid to be a..."

"Quick now, before summer's over." Pyp laughed and started running when he saw Grenn's patience reaching its limit.

"Come on here!" Grenn roared and chased after his fellow recruit.

Davos shook his head mirthfully. At least someone was having fun.

[Daenerys and the horde have arrived to the Dothraki homeland. Green meadows stretching far and wide. A close-up shot is shown of the entrance to Vaes Dothrak, where two horse statues cross are situated.]

The room stared at the scene with awe.

"Wow"

"That's amazing!"

"Where is that?"

Tyrion decided to answer the inquiry. "I believe that is the holy city of the Dothraki, known as Vaes Dothrak. I read about it once in a book from the citadel. The gate itself is called the horse gate, two horses sculpted out of bronze, conjoined at their hooves to create an arch. One of the most stunning works of art seen to this day."

"Vaes Dothrak. The city of the horselords." Jorah said.

"A pile of mud. Mud and shit and twigs - best these savages can do." Viserys replied dismissively.

"Is he blind or something, didn't he see the gate?" Arya asked confusedly and some of the others snorted.

Daenerys looked affronted. "These are my people now. You shouldn't call them savages."

"I'll call them what I like, because they're my people. This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army." Viserys scowled and rode ahead of the others, leaving Dany and Jorah at the head of the march.

"If my brother was given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the Seven Kingdoms?" She asked Jorah.

"The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea. They fear any water their horses can't drink."

"But if they did?"

"King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different."

"And you know these men?"

Jorah sighed. "I fought beside them once, long ago. Now Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my land."

"You sold slaves." Dany stated.

"Aye."

"Why?"

"I had no money and an expensive wife."

Dany raised a delicate eyebrow at that. "And where is she now?"

"In another place, with another man."

Ned looked down. Jorah had been a good man, might still be one. However, he had committed a terrible crime, and when the time had come to face his sins, he'd fled Westeros. There was no place for him here, not anymore.

[Viserys is in a tub inside of a tent, being bathed by Doreah.]

Sansa flushed and looked away, while Ned covered Arya's eyes.

"Your Grace?" Doreah asked hesitantly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"They call you the last dragon..."

Viserys straightened a bit in pride. "They do."

"You have dragon's blood in your veins?" She continued.

"It's entirely possible."

Tyrion scoffed. "Way to stroke his already inflated ego…"

"What happened to the dragons? I was told that brave men killed them all." She asked yet again, intrigued.

He put a finger under her chin, lifting her up to meet his gaze. "The brave men didn't kill dragons. The brave men rode them. Rode them from Valyria to build the greatest civilization this world has ever seen. The breath of the greatest dragon forged the Iron Throne, which the Usurper is keeping warm for me. The swords of the vanquished, a thousand of them... melted together like so many candles." He spoke while picking up one of the candles, grinning to himself at the thought of taking back what was inherently his.

"I have always wanted to see a dragon. There is nothing in the world that I would rather see."

Viserys looked amused at that. "Really? Why dragons?"

"They can fly. And wherever they are, just a few flaps of their wings and they're somewhere else... Far away. And they can kill. Anyone or anything that tries to hurt them gets burned away to nothing... melted... like so many candles." She whispered coyly, taking the candle from Viserys and dripping a few drops on his bare chest. "Yes, seeing a dragon would make me very happy…"

Bronn eyed the girl with a keen interest, that girl sure knows how to appeal to a man…

"Well, after 15 years in a pleasure house, I imagine just seeing the sky makes you happy." Viserys replied and they shared a laugh.

"I wasn't locked in. I have seen things." She replied with a slight giggle.

"What have you seen?"

"I've seen... A man from Asshai with a dagger of real dragonglass. I've seen a man who could change his face the way other men change their clothes. And I've seen a pirate who wore his weight in gold and whose ship had sails of colored silk. So... Have you seen one?"

"What does she mean by change his face? And what's dragonglass?" Arya asked. She couldn't see anything, so she didn't really know what was going on, but the talk about pirates and dragonglass daggers had her more than a bit curious.

"I think she's referring to the faceless men…" Davos said a bit hesitantly.

Robb was interested. "Faceless men?"

"There are stories about them… the faceless men are a guild of assassins, an organization so old that it predates even the doom of Valyria. No one really knows of how the organization came to exist, but the most common tale is that their founders were slaves under the fourteen fires, the great volcanic mountain chain whose eruption destroyed the Valyrian freehold four centuries ago.

The thousands of slaves from a hundred different lands faced death on a daily basis, and over time, the belief developed among some of them that while they came from many different lands and followed many different religions, all of these religions were fundamentally the same, because they all worshiped death in some fashion. That is how they came to worship the many-faced god of death.

They started out by giving the "gift" of death to slaves who were suffering particularly horribly in the mines, to ease their pain. However, in time, they learned to surreptitiously give the "gift" to some of their Valyrian masters as well, becoming skilled assassins.

There isn't much known about them in this day and age, otherwise than that they charge exorbitant fees and that if you get marked, then there is no place in this world that you would be safe." Tyrion finished his explanation with a bit of a dry mouth after talking so much.

Everyone had been listening with wide eyes and rapt attention.

"B-but I still don't get the face changing thing." Robb asked again, a bit shaky this time.

"They're said to take the faces of the dead and wear their skin in order to travel unseen. They're the embodiment of a wolf in sheep's clothing." Davos answered this time.

There was silence as everyone processed the influx of information.

"A pirate ship?" He questioned confusedly and she giggled once again.

"A dragon."

"No, the last one died many years before I was born. I'll tell you what I have seen:" He said and suddenly an ominous tune starts playing in the background.

"Their skulls. They used to decorate the throne room in the Red Keep. When I was very young, just 3 or 4, my father used to walk me down the rows and I'd recite their names for him. When I got them all right, he'd give me a sweet. The ones closest to the door were the last ones they were able to hatch and they were all stunted and wrong. Skulls no bigger than dog skulls. But as you got closer to the Iron Throne... They got bigger and bigger and bigger. There was Ghiscar and Valryon, Vermithrax, Essovius, Archonel, Meraxes, Vhagar... And Balerion the Dread... whose fire forged the Seven Kingdoms into one." Doreah started arching her back with each name, until she stood at her peak, a throaty moan slipping past her lips. They engaged in a fierce lock of lips, until Doreah broke it with a question.

They all kept silent watching the scene, uncomfortable with watching teens having sex in a bathtub.

"What happened to the skulls?" She questioned.

Viserys blinked. "I don't know. The Usurper had them smashed to powder, I expect. Scattered to the wind." He said and engaged with her yet again, only for her to break away with another reply.

«That's very sad…"

"Yes, it is." He replied, annoyed this time. "What did I buy you for? To make me sad?"

She looked down, unsure of herself. "No, your Grace. To teach your sister."

"To teach my sister how to be a better lover? You think I bought you to make Khal Drogo happy?" He asked incredulously. "You pretty little idiot. Go on then. Get on with it." He said finally, leaning back and waiting for her to do what he bought her for.

Daenerys couldn't help the frustration and sadness building inside her. Her brother whom had been so kind and caring when they were young, now crazed and broken.

[Inside of the throne room at King's Landing. Septa Mordane is walking with Sansa, giving her brief lessons.]

"Someday your husband will sit there and you will sit by his side. And one day, before too long, you will present your son to the court. All the lords of Westeros will gather here to see the little prince..."

"What if I have a girl?" Sansa questioned.

"Gods be good, you'll have boys and girls and plenty of them." The Septa replied.

Robb raised an eyebrow at Sansa's behavior. It seems the situation was slowly beginning to catch up to her. It was slowly dawning on her what kind of place she was in now.

"What if I only have girls?"

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"Jeyne Poole's mother had five children, all of them girls." Sansa stated.

"Yes, but it's highly unlikely."

"But what if?"

The Septa sighed. "Well, If you only had girls, I suppose the throne would pass to Prince Joffrey's little brother."

"And everyone would hate me." Sansa finished.

"Nobody could ever hate you." Mordane reassured her charge.

"Joffrey does."

The older woman gasped at the proclamation. "Nonsense. Why would you say such a thing? That business with the wolves? I've told you a hundred times... A direwolf is not..."

No matter how much better it would've been if that was true, Jon couldn't help but agree with Sansa. Joffrey wasn't the kind to forgive and forget easily. And the humiliation of having been disarmed by Arya and crying in front of his betrothed, must've hurt his pride.

"Please shut up about it." Sansa interrupted rudely and Mordane promptly shut her mouth.

"Sansa, no matter how angry you are, you should never tell someone to shut up. Septa Mordane is just trying to teach you what we want you to learn." Catelyn said disapprovingly. Sansa nodded.

Careful not to overstep her boundaries, she changed the topic of their conversation. Deigning to continue their previous lesson. "Do you remember your lessons? Who built the Iron Throne?"

"Aegon the Conqueror."

"And who built the Red Keep?"

"Maegor the Cruel."

"And how many years did it take to build..."

"My grandfather and uncle were murdered here, weren't they?" Sansa interjected and Modane went silent for a second.

Tyrion's eyes didn't miss the slight wince to Ned when Sansa uttered those words. Not that he could blame him though.

"…They were killed on the orders of King Aerys, yes."

"The Mad King."

"Commonly known as the Mad King." The older woman corrected.

"Why were they killed?"

She sighed yet again. The breaching of this subject was not something she wanted to do, neither was it her story to tell. "You should speak to your father about these matters."

"I don't want to speak to my father, ever."

Catelyn laid a hand on Ned's just to comfort him. She knew he wouldn't be fazed by such words. They were the words of a child after all, and she knew Sansa was just sad over losing her direwolf, and was taking her frustration out on those around her.

"You will find it in your heart to forgive your father."

"No, I won't."

[Small council meeting in King's Landing.]
Ned rubbed his face wearily. He was tired, so very tired.

The Starks all eyed their father with sympathy. He looked more tired than they'd seen him for a long time, if ever.

"It's the Hand's tournament that's causing all this trouble, my Lords." A man in golden armor, with a graying beard and bald head stated. This man was Janos Slynt, the commander of the City Watch.

"Who's that?" Arya asked.

"The commander of the city Watch, Janos Slynt." Tyrion answered.

"The King's tournament. I assure you the Hand wants no part of it." Ned replied, reaching for a cup of wine to quench his thirst.

"Call it what you will, Lord Stark Ser, the city is packed with people and more flooding in every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters."

The kids all widened their eyes a bit at that, never having experienced so many mishaps in one night. Though, the older ones in the room all continued watching unfazed.

"Dreadful." Varys remarked from his seat.

Renly made his own opinion known. "If you can't keep the King's peace, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can."

"I need more men."

"You'll get 50. Lord Baelish will see it paid for." Ned cut in quickly.

"I will?"

"You found money for a champion's purse; you can find money to keep the peace. I'll also give you 20 of my household guards till the crowds have left."

Slynt looked relieved at that. "Thank you, my Lord Hand Ser. They will be put to good use."

"The sooner this is over, the better."

"The realm prospers from such events, my Lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes."

"That is a fair point he's making." Bronn said. He himself had joined many a tourney in hopes of winning the champions purse. Though he mostly only went for melees.

"And every inn in the city is full and the whores are walking bow-legged." Baelish added with a smirk and Ned could barely contain his disgusted sneer.

Ned sighed. This man was just too much. Every single god damned smart-ass comment coming out of his mouth always had to be about whores or the like.

"I'm sure the tourney puts coins in many a pocket. Now... If there's nothing else, my Lords?"

[Eddard dismisses the council, slightly perturbed at their hurried leave. As they are all leaving, Ned stops Pycelle.]

"This heat. On days like this, I envy you northerners your summer snows. Until tomorrow my Lord-" Pycelle said as he hobbled.

"I've been hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn." Ned cut in hastily.

Now this caught the viewers attention. Finally, they were getting to the interesting parts.

"Lord Arryn?" Pycelle faced Ned and straightened as much as he could. "His death was a great sadness to all of us. I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him. His sickness struck him very hard and very fast. I saw him in my chambers just the night before he passed. Lord Jon often came to me for counsel."

"Why?"

Pycelle seemed to take offense to that. "I have been Grand Maester for many years. Kings and Hands have come to me for advice since..."

"What did Jon want the night before he died?" Ned asked.

"He came inquiring after a book."

"A book?" Theon questioned.

"Shh, quiet"

That piqued his interest. "A book? What book?"

"I fear it would be of little interest to you, my Lord. A ponderous tome." Pycelle looked quite nervous at the mention of the book, Ned noticed.

"No, I'd like to read it."

[Now in Pycelle's room, he hands a book to Ned.]

"The lineages and histories of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms, with descriptions of many high lords and noble ladies and their children." Pycelle said as he put the worn and slightly dusty tome on the table.

Ned eyed the book curiously. Why would Jon be looking after this book? Yes, Jon Arryn was a studious man, but there had to be something more than that to it.

Ned opened the book and skimmed through some pages. "Harkon Umber, first of his name, born to lord Hother Umber and lady Amaryllis Umber in the 183rd year after Aegon's landing, at the last hearth. Blue of eye, brown of hair and fair complected, died in his 14th year of a wound sustainedin a bear hunt."

"As I said, my Lord, a ponderous read."

"Did Jon Arryn tell you what he wanted with it?"

"He did not, my Lord." Pycelle said. "And I did not presume to ask."

"Jon's death..."

"Such a tragedy."

"Did he say anything to you during his final hours?" Ned asked.

"Nothing of import, my Lord. There was one phrase he kept repeating: "The seed is strong," I think it was."

Everyone looked at the screen in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?

Ned creased an eyebrow in confusion. "The seed is strong? What does that mean?"

"The dying mind is a demented mind, Lord Stark. For all the weight they're given, last words are usually as significant as first words."

"And you're quite certain he died of a natural illness?" Ned inquired.

"What else could it be?"

"Poison…"

Tyrion nodded slowly. That was a possibility for sure. There are many poisons out that that could make a death seem natural.

Pycelle looked uncomfortable at that. "A disturbing thought. I don't think it likely. The Hand was loved by all. What sort of man would dare..."

"I've heard it said that poison is a woman's weapon."

"Yes. Women, cravens… and eunuchs." The old man added as a last. "Did you know lord Varys is a eunuch?"

Davos, Tyrion and Sandor all rolled their eyes at that. That old fool and his unreasonable hatred towards Varys. What was it that made him dislike the spymaster so, anyways?

"Everybody knows that." Ned scoffed.

"Yes, yes, of course. How that sort of person found himself on the King's Council, I will never know."

Ned ignored that last part in favor of packing up the book. "I've taken enough of your time."

"No trouble at all, my Lord. It's a great honor..."

"Thank you. I'll find my own way out."

[Ned is walking back to his chambers as he sees Arya balancing on one foot in front of a staircase.]

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Arya answered her father's unspoken question.

"It's a hard fall down these steps." He gestured to the hard, stone floor.

"Syrio says every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better. Tomorrow I'm going to be chasing cats."

Jon and Robb chuckled.

Ned raised a brow in amusement. "Cats? Ah, Syrio says…"

"He says every swordsman should study cats. They're quiet as shadows and as light as feathers. You have to be quick to catch them."

"He's right about that." Ned replied and was about to turn and leave when Arya spoke up yet again.

"Now that Bran's awake will he come live with us?" She asked, her voice hopeful.

Catelyn smiled to herself. She was glad to see that her children cared for each other so much, even if Bran and Arya always bickered over the smallest of things.

Ned thought of what to say. "Well, he needs to get his strength back first."

"He wants to be a knight of the King's Guard. He can't be one now, can he?" She said, looking down with a hint of sadness.

"No. But someday he could be Lord of a holdfast or sit on the King's Council. Or he might raise castles like Brandon the Builder." Ned tried to reassure his daughter.

"Can I be Lord of a holdfast?"

Everyone laughed a bit at that.

Ned chuckled and gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead. "You will marry a high Lord and rule his castle. And your sons shall be knights and princes and lords."

"No, that's not me…" She replied and went back to practicing her balance. Gentle music sounding in the background.

[Keeping watch on the wall, Sam joins Jon as his watch partner.]

"Hello." Sam greeted. "Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner. I should warn you; I don't see all that well."

Jon looked away for a second to hide his grimace and replied. "Come stand by the fire. It's warmer."

Dany smiled gently. Jon was kind, and truly cared for his friends.

"No, that's all right. I'm fine."

"You're not. You're freezing." Jon said in a matter of fact tone, and Sam joined him by the fire a bit hesitantly.

The young Tarly boy inched as close to the edge of the watch post as he dared, trying to look down.

"Don't get too close, might stumble and fall over, big boy." Theon joked.

"I don't like high places." He said.

"You can't fight. You can't see. You're afraid of heights and almost everything else probably. What are you doing here, Sam?" Jon looked Sam straight in the eyes, earnestly confused.

The viewers couldn't help but agree with Jon. They couldn't imagine a worse place for Sam to be than the Night's Watch.

Sam looked down, mind flashing back to a particularly nasty memory. "On the morning of my 18th nameday, my father came to me. 'You're almost a man now,' he said, 'but you're not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black, forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not,' he said, 'then we'll have a hunt and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.'"

Dany and Sansa gasped and Catelyn looked revolted. Jon and Robb had widened eyes, while Ned alongside Tyrion, Davos, Bronn and Sandor all had blank expressions.

"That's horrible…"

"How could he do something like that… to his own son no less" Dany said, looking at Sam in worry.

Sam for his own part, didn't look too shocked. Sam couldn't be more than 16 or 17 at most, Dany presumed. Which meant that Sam had been expecting something like this for a while now. She couldn't help but feel sad for him.

Silence reigned for a moment. Jon's finally understanding how Sam came to be at Castle Black and his heart went out to him.

"Ser Alliser's going to make me fight again tomorrow, isn't he?" Sam said, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes, he is."

They winced, remembering how Sam had been beaten earlier that day.

"I'm not going to get any better, you know?" Sam whined.

"Well… You can't get any worse." Jon replied and they shared a laugh.

[Ned and Petyr walking through the gardens of King's Landing, side by side.]

"I hear you're reading a boring book." Petyr said.

"Pycelle talks too much."

"They really know everything, don't they…" Robb muttered.

"He never stops. Do you know Ser Hugh of the Vale?" The master of Coin asked and Ned looked to him in confusion. "Not surprising. Until recently, he was only a squire... Jon Arryn's squire. He was knighted almost immediately after his master's untimely death."

"Knighted for what? Why are you telling me this?" Ned asked, looking at Petyr with a hint of suspicion.

"I promised Cat that I'd help you."

Fat load of good his help had done them, Jon thought. All the man had done was manipulate Catelyn and father with false information and promises.

"Where is Ser Hugh? I'll speak to him."

"A singularly bad idea." Petyr replied and nodded towards two boys playing near a tree in the garden. "Do you see that boy there? One of Varys's little birds. The Spider has taken a great interest in your comings and goings… Now look there." He nodded towards another man, this one old and working near a flower patch. "That one belongs to the Queen. And do you see that Septa pretending to read her book?"

So that was how their spy networks worked. Ned stored that piece of information for later. Baelish, The Queen, Varys, they had eyes and ears everywhere.

"Varys or the Queen?" Ned asked, eyeing the woman.

Petyr smirked. "No. She's one of mine. Is there someone in your service whom you trust completely?"

"Yes."

"The wiser answer was no, my Lord. Get a message to this paragon of yours... Discreetly. Send him to question Ser Hugh. After that, you might want him to visit a certain armorer in the city. He lives in a large house at the top of the street of Steel."

"Why?"

"I have my observers, as I said, and it's possible that they saw Lord Arryn visit this armorer several times in the weeks before his death." Petyr replied.

Ned contemplated the information in his head before talking. "Lord Baelish, perhaps I was wrong to distrust you."

"… Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you climbed off your horse". The man gave a devilish grin and proceeded to walk away, leaving Ned to contemplate his words.

Catelyn just at the screen with a blank expression. Oh, how Baelish had changed. The man she once knew to be kind and adventurous, now gone and replaced by this lying, manipulative snake of a man.

[Preparing for the Hand of the King's tournament, Ser Hugh is pacing out steps on the joust.]

"Ser Hugh?" Jory greeted the knight, but was promptly ignored in favor of counting steps.

"Ser Hugh!" He said more forcefully this time.

The young knight turned around, more than slightly annoyed. "As you can see, I'm busy."

"Rude shit" The Hound said gruffly and Bronn looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The Hound calling someone rude was like to pot calling the kettle black.

"I'm here on behalf of Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the king. I'm the captain of his guard." Jory stated.

That caught the knights' attention. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name, Ser..."

"No "ser." I'm not a knight." Jory replied stoically.

"I see. Well, it just so happens that I am." The man replied obnoxiously and turned on his heel, continuing his earlier practice.

The Hound scoffed. Knight his arse. There were more knights these days than grass on a field. All parading themselves around, thinking themselves above others. Put any of them against him in a fight and he'd tear them a part just like any other man, knight or not.

[Riding on horseback through King's Landing, Ned and Jory arrive at the armorer.]

"He said he'd be glad to talk to the Hand himself. He's a knight, you see." Jory informed his lord with an amused smile.

Davos laughed at the ploy. As did some of the others.

Ned scoffed derisively. "A knight. They strut around like roosters down here. Even the ones who've never seen an arrow coming their way."

"You shouldn't be out here, my Lord. There's no telling who has eyes where." Jory stated with a hint of worry.

No doubt Baelish would have his own people closely following his every movement, Tyrion thought to himself.

"Let them look." Ned replied and jumped off his horse.

"The former Hand did call on me, my Lord, several times. I regret to say he did not honor me with his patronage." A tall, grey haired man said while wiping off sweat from his face with a dirty rag.

"What did Lord Arryn want?" Ned asked interestedly.

"He always came to see the boy…"

"I'd like to see him as well." Ned stated, the man looked at him strangely for a second, but nodded nonetheless.

"As you wish, my Lord. Gendry!" The man shouted over his shoulder and a well-built teenager with black hair came to the front of the shop.

Ned and Davos instantly recognized the Baratheon resemblance. The hair, face, build, eyes, the boy looked like a pure Baratheon. Resembling both Renly and a younger king Robert.

"Here he is. Strong for his age. He works hard. Show the Hand the helmet you made, lad."

The boy, Gendry, nodded and retrieved a helmet he had made himself.

"Is that a bull?"

"Wow that's so cool."

"Pretty good work."

"This is fine work." Ned said after inspecting the craft.

"It's not for sale."

"Boy! this is the King's Hand! If his lordship wants the helmet..." Mott was about to say, but was cut off by Gendry.

"I made it for me." The lad replied stubbornly.

Ned smiled a bit. The boy even had the Baratheon blunt stubbornness.

"Forgive him, my Lord."

"There's nothing to forgive. When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what would you talk about?" Ned asked the boy.

"He just asked me questions is all, my Lord."

"What kind of questions?"

"About my work at first, if I was being treated well, if I liked it here. But then he started asking me about my mother."

"Strange for the Hand to care so much about a smith's apprentice." Bronn said interestedly.

"It's because his no simple boy, most likely one of Robert's bastards." Tyrion said, and Ned's eyes flicked over to the Dwarf. A truly intelligent man.

Meanwhile Jon's thoughts rang differently. That boy was like him. The bastard of a noble, the king no less.

"Your mother?"

"Who she was, what she looked like" Gendry clarified.

"And what did you tell him?"

"She died when I was little. She had yellow hair. She'd sing to me sometimes" The boy summed up shortly.

Ned's eyes roamed over the boy for a second. "Look at me" He ordered the boy and when their eyes met, a sudden realization dawned on Ned, but he played it off like it was nothing.

"Back to work, lad" He said, handing back the helmet and then turning to the shopkeeper. "If the day ever comes when that boy would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me."

With that said Ned left and returned to his horse.

"Find anything, my lord" Jory asked when Ned returned.

"King Robert's bastard son."

"I was correct it seems" Tyrion said, and Bronn nodded minutely.

[Jaime is standing guard outside of the king's chambers. You can hear King Robert with numerous girls inside his room.]

Jon blushed a bit at the sounds coming from the room.

Jory approached the Lannister Kingsguard hastily. "This is for the King from Lord Stark. Should I leave it with…"

"Shhh…" Jaime said putting a hand up for quiet. "Listen. Do you hear them? How many do you think are in there with him? Guess."

Jory decided to indulge the man. "Three? Four?" He replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Where is he going with this?" Robb whispered to Jon, but Jon only shrugged, just as clueless as him.

Jaime just shook his head. "He likes to do this when I'm on duty... He makes me listen as he insults my sister." And as if on que, a woman dressed in a pink robe walked out of the kings' chambers.

"Forgive me, my Lord..." Jory started but was interrupted yet again.

"Why do I have to forgive you? Have you wronged me?"

"I don't understand, Jory was just being polite." Sansa asked her father.

"Don't worry, he just likes to act smart." Ned returned.

Tyrion couldn't help but agree. Don't get him wrong, he loved his brother more than anyone else, but he could really be an ass sometimes.

"We've met before, you know." Jory said after a moment of silence.

"Have we? Strange, I've forgotten."

"The siege of Pyke. We fought side by side one afternoon."

That seemed to jog Jaime's memory. "Ah. That's where you got your scar?"

"Aye. One of the Greyjoys nearly took my eye."

"I actually didn't know that" Robb said.

Jon nodded. "Neither did I."

Meanwhile, a smirk made its way to Theons face at the mention of the Greyjoys.

"Vicious sons of whores."

"They like their bloodshed." Jory said with a slight nod.

"They stopped liking it at the end." Jaime smirked. "That was a proper battle. Do you remember Thoros of Myr charging through the breach?"

"With his burning sword?" Jory said and Jaime chuckled and gave a nod. "I'll remember that till the day I die."

"Who's Thoros of Myr?" Arya asked.

The Hound answered that one before anyone else could. "Just a drunk fool, preaching about that annoying fire god of his."

"He's won renown at the siege of Pyke. When he ran through the gates with a flaming sword. A single man charging into the Greyjoy forces." Tyrion added.

"I saw the youngest of the Greyjoy lads at Winterfell. It was like seeing a shark on a mountaintop." Jaime said.

Robb and Jon immediately burst out in laughter, while Theon grit his teeth. Fucking Lannisters, they're all such smart-asses aren't they He thought.

"Theon? He's a good lad."

"I doubt it." Jaime shot back.

They laughed harder at that, some of the others like Bronn, Tyrion, Davos and Dany giving chuckles of their own.

"Fuck all of you" Theon muttered under his breath.

Suddenly the door to the kings chambers opened again and another two whores came out clutching their robes. "I'll bet you smell of blackberry jam! Let me smell it. Come here." The kings voice could be heard from the other side and Jaime quickly closed the door, smile slipping off his face.

"Can I leave this with you? The message from Lord Stark." Jory asked.

"I don't serve Lord Stark." Jaime snapped back, his tone icy. Jory eyed the man for a second before slowly turning around and walking away, leaving Jaime alone.

Well, there goes the good atmosphere, Tyrion thought. The laughter died down and became tense silence at Jaime's outburst, but no one said anything.

[In the mess hall at Castle Black.]

"Where have you been?" Grenn asked when he saw Jon approach their table.

"Watch duty. With Sam."

"Ah, Prince Porkchop. Where is he?" Pyp joked.

"Prince Porkchop hahaha, what a name." Bronn laughed and Sam flushed.

"He wasn't hungry." Jon replied.

"Impossible!" Pyp said with faked disbelief and Grenn chuckled.

Jon, however, didn't seem amused. "That's enough. Sam's no different from the rest of us. There was no place for him in the world, so he's come here. We're not going to hurt him in the training yard anymore. Never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now and we're going to protect him."

Ned felt pride that his son would stand up for a friend, but didn't miss the fact of what Jon had said. That he didn't feel as if there was any place for him in the world. He didn't feel like he belonged at Winterfell. Ned's heart tightened at that.

Robb's thoughts were along the same line. It hurt knowing that Jon didn't feel at home with them, with his family, and he knew his mother was to blame for it.

From the table beside them, another trainee hearing Jon's talk, turned to address him. "You are in love, Lord Snow. You girls can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against Lady Piggy, I'm gonna slice me off a side of bacon." He crooned and the others laughed, but Jon only stared at him before turning back to his meal.

"Oh no, I know that look, that's not going to go over well." Robb said and some of the others turned to him in a bit of confusion, but Robb didn't elaborate. They would just have to wait and see.

[All of the new recruits are sleeping. Jon, Ghost (his direwolf), Pyp and Grenn ambush and gag Rast as he sleeps. Jon threatens him.]

"No one touches Sam." Jon said and his direwolf growled, baring its teeth near Rast. Jon released the gag and Rast looked ready to soil himself.

Oh, so that's what he meant. The others thought. Ned was a bit surprised to be honest, he didn't know Jon was willing to go so far. But knowing his mother, that was a given. The thought made him smile fondly.

Sam couldn't help but smile knowing that at the very least, even if he went to that horrible place, he would have a true friend in Jon and maybe Grenn and Pyp too.

[Back in the training yard the next morning.]

Rast and Sam stood in a small circle in the training yard alongside some other trainees and Alliser Thorne watching them.

Rast looked to Jon whom was staring at him, his eyes promising pain if he didn't heed last night's warning.

"Seems like you really got through to him, eh Jon?" Robb said amused, elbowing Jon who just smiled.

"If he knows what's best for him" Bronn added.

"What are you waiting for?" Thorne asked. Sam chose that moment to lunge, but his sword was batted away with no effort by Rast.

Ser Alliser's patience was wearing thin at the lack of battle. "Attack him!" He ordered and Rast looked to Jon. Knowing what was best for him, Rast gave Sam a light pat to the shoulder.

"What was that? A love-tap?" The Hound said in his gruffy voice.

"You, get in there." Ser Alliser ordered Grenn, while reaching for Rast and pushing him out of the ring.

Grenn looked around for a second before whispering to Sam. "Hit me."

Sam was utterly confused, so he looked to Jon for guidance, whom just gave a slight nod, telling Sam to comply.

"Man, look at him, he's so confused hahaha!" Robb laughed.

Dany giggled at Sam' confusion. That was so sweet of Jon and the others, to help Sam like that.

"Go on, hit me!" Grenn said again, a bit more forcefully this time and Sam hit him lightly at the shoulder.

"Does he think the others can't hear him? They're literally standing two meters away." Tyrion asked incredulously.

"Aaaargh! Arrgh!" Grenn shouted, jumping backwards and falling to the ground in an overexaggerated attempt at acting out his defeat. "I yield! Yield, yield. I yield." The other recruits laughed at his acting and when Ser Alliser looked to Jon, he caught on to what was happening.

"Oh, this isn't going to end well."

"He looks ready to throttle you, Jon."

Glaring daggers at the boy, Thorne stomped his way towards Jon, and roughly grabbing him by the collar.

"You think this is funny, do you? When you're out there beyond the Wall with the sun going down, do you want a man at your back? Or a sniveling boy?"

That made the room go silent again. Thorne was an asshole, but he made a really good point. Even Sam was inclined to agree with him.

[Viserys marches into Daenerys' tent while dragging a crying Doreah by the hair.]

"What's got his panties in a twist this time." Bronn sighed. If it wasn't one thing, it was the other with this kid. Constantly throwing temper tantrums.

"You send this whore to give me commands? I should have sent you back her head!" Viserys screamed, face contorted into mad snarl.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi. I did as you asked." Her handmaiden pleaded, tears streaking down her face.

The boys in the room felt a streak of anger at how the Targaryen prince handled the handmaiden, subconsciously making their fists clench.

"Hush now. It's all right." Dany soothed Doreah sweetly. "Irri, take her and leave us."

"Yes, Khaleesi."

When the pair had left her tent, she whirled on Viserys.

"Why did you hit her?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you? You do not command me."

"I wasn't commanding you. I just wanted to invite you to supper." Deanery's tried calming her brother.

Viserys looked around the room until his eyes landed on a piece of clothing laying neatly at a table to the side. "What's this?" He asked.

"It's a gift. I had it made for you." She answered, smiling lightly.

His anger returned with a vengeance. "Dothraki rags? Are you going to dress me now?!"

"Please-" She pleaded.

"This stink of manure. All of it." He threw the clothing at Dany who slapped it away.

"Ungrateful little shit." The Hound said.

"Stop! stop it."

"You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? Next you'll want to braid my hair?!"

"You've no right to a braid. You've won no victories yet!"

The beggar king gasped. "You do not talk back to me!" He roared and charged his sister. He takes her by the wrists and throws her down on the floor to mount her, keeping her in place.

Jon really felt the need to go over and beat the ever living shit out of Viserys right at that moment. He's nails were practically digging into the palms of his hands.

"You are a horselord's slut. And now you've woken the dragon..." He says in a crazed whisper, but is cut off when Dany hits him across the face with a golden chain, making the boy fall back and cry out in pain.

"Nice one, girlie." The Hound said.

She stands up, tall and proud. "I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki! I am the wife of the great Khal and I carry his son inside me. The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands!"

"Well, I can't say it wasn't satisfying to see him put in his place." Tyrion said.

"Excuse me for the crass language, my Lady. But your brother is a piece of fucking shit." Robb stated, and the others nodded.

"Good to see you finally standing up for yourself. You shouldn't let yourself be treated like that." Jon added and Dany smiled at them.

[Inside the Castle Black mess hall, Jon and Sam are cleaning up.]

"I know for a fact that some of the officers go to that brothel in Mole's Town." Sam said. He was scrubbing the tables of the main hall together with Jon.

"Punishment for your little stunt back there, I see." Davos said. There was no chance a man like Thorne would let a slight on him go without any backlash.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Jon replied.

"Don't you think it's a little bit unfair? Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little sally on the side?"

Jon snorted, mirth evident in his voice. "Sally on the side?"

"It's silly, isn't it? What, we can't defend the Wall unless we're celibate? It's absurd."

"Never really understood that part of their oaths." Tyrion mumbled.

"I didn't think you'd be so upset about it."

Sam suddenly went still and turned to Jon with a more than a little annoyance. "Why not? Because I'm fat?" Jon was about to protest, but Sam just continued. "But I like girls just as much as you do. They might not like me as much. I've never... been with one. You've probably had hundreds."

Jon turned red and Robb and Theon were on the floor dying of laughter.

"Ahahaha, Jon, with- with ahahahaha, hundreds of g-girls!" Robb wheezed, hands on his stomach.

Theon wasn't fairing any better. Their laughter soon made some of the other laugh too. Jon, on the other hand, was blushing up a storm.

"Ah man, do you remember that time he tried talking to that servant girl" Robb began and Jon's eyes widened, and he instantly put a hand over his brothers' mouth.

"Don't you fucking dare sa-…" Jon began only for Theon to continue Robbs telling.

"And tripped, falling over her and landing face first into her stomach! Oh, man ahahaha. He didn't come out of his room for like two days!"

Jon was mortified and to make it worse, when he looked over to the others, he could see even his father laughing. Even Dany was looking away with a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.

He slowly sank into his couch, face beet red, while the others laughed. Even the Hound looked amused!

Jon smiled solemnly. "As a matter of fact, I'm the same as you."

Sam scoffed. "No, I find that hard to believe."

"I came very close once. I was alone in a room with a naked girl, but..."

Just when Jon thought things couldn't get any worse, and his screen-self had to go and blurt out one of his fucking secrets.

"Oh, what's this, Snow?" Robb began only for Jon to glare at him.

"Not one more word out of you, Robb, or I'll make our next sparring session your last."

Robb just laughed, but decided to ease up on his teasing.

"You didn't know where to put it?" Sam interjected and they both shared a slight chuckle.

"I know where to put it."

"Was she... Old and ugly?"

Jon shook his head. "Young and gorgeous. A whore named Ros."

"So, you actually payed Ros a visit, huh, snow?" Theon said.

"Shut up, Greyjoy, before I break my foot up your ass."

"What color hair?"

"Red."

"I like red hair. And her... Her..." Sam gestured to his chest area.

"They're called boobs, Samwell." Tyrion stated with amusement and Sam just flushed. He knew what they were called! It was just embarrassing to say it out loud.

"You don't want to know."

"That good?"

"Better."

"Oh no. So why exactly did you not make love to Ros with the perfect..."

Dany giggled mirthfully. Was this really how boys talked about girls?

"What's my name?" Jon cut him off.

Here he goes again. Robb thought.

Sam was unsure where this was going but complied nonetheless. "Jon Snow?"

"And why is my surname Snow?"

He hesitated for a second but answered his friend. "Because... You're a bastard from the north."

"I never met my mother. My father wouldn't even tell me her name. I don't know if she's living or dead. I don't know if she's a noblewoman or a fisherman's wife... Or a whore. So, I sat there in the brothel as Ros took off her clothes. But I couldn't do it. Because all I could think was what if I got her pregnant and she had a child, another bastard named Snow? It's not a good life for a child." The room fell into silence.

Ned contemplated those words. Was that what Jon thought. Was Jon so afraid of his status as a bastard that he wouldn't be with a woman. At that moment Ned wished for nothing more than to tell Jon the truth, tell him who his mother was, tell him what she was and what he was. But deep inside he knew he couldn't. He'd promised Lyanna to keep him safe, and he intended to keep that promise.

"So... You didn't know where to put it?" Jon threw the dirty sponge at Sam and ran around the table to get the boy, all the while laughing, until the door to the hall suddenly slammed open and ser Alliser walked in.

"Enjoying yourselves? You look cold, boys."

"It is a bit nippy." Sam replied.

*Tyrion facepalms*

"A bit nippy, yeah, by the fire, indoors. It's still summer. Do you boys even remember the last winter? How long has it been now? What, 10 years? I remember. Was it uncomfortable at Winterfell? Were there days when you just couldn't get warm, never mind how many fires your servants built?"

"I build my own fires." Jon shot back.

"Jon? Having servants? Nope, not happening." Theon joked.

Alliser smiled derisively. "That's admirable. I spent six months out there, beyond the Wall during the last winter. It was supposed to be a two-week mission. We heard a rumor Mance Rayder was planning to attack Eastwatch. So we went out to look for some of his men… Capture them, gather some knowledge. The Wildlings who fight for Mance Rayder are hard men. Harder than you'll ever be. They know their country better than we do. They knew there was a storm coming in. So they hid in their caves and waited for it to pass. And we got caught in the open. Wind so strong it yanked 100-foot trees straight from the ground, roots and all. If you took your gloves off to find your cock to have a piss, you lost a finger to the frost. And all in darkness. You don't know cold. Neither of you do. The horses died first. We didn't have enough to feed them, to keep them warm. Eating the horses was easy. But later when we started to fall... That wasn't easy. We should have had a couple of boys like you along, shouldn't we? Soft, fat boys like you. We'd have lasted a fortnight on you and still had bones leftover for soup. Soon we'll have new recruits and you lot will be passed along to the Lord Commander for assignment and they will call you men of the Night's Watch, but you'd be fools to believe it. You're boys still. And come the winter you will die... Like flies."

He's right, Sam thought and looked down with a disheartened expression, I'll only be a burden when it truly matters. Just like father said.

[Inside Daenerys' tent, speaking privately to Jorah.]

"I hit him. I hit the dragon." Dany said, her voice awed.

"And about fucking time too. It was right before I had to go and strangle the little shit myself." The Hound said.

Jorah held in a snort at that. Viserys was definitely no dragon. "Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake."

"He is still the true King."

Jorah looked to Dany curiously. "The truth now: do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?"

Dany sighed. "No. But the common people are waiting for him. Illyrio said they're sewing dragon banners and praying for his return."

"Then Illyrio doesn't know what he's talking about. The only ones you could even remotely consider being supported by are some of houses sworn to Dragonstone and the Reach and the Martells. That's only 2 of the seven kingdoms, and they're an if at best. All of the other houses despise the Targaryens." Tyrion informed.

"The common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends. They don't care what games the high Lords play."

"That's true." Someone said.

"What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?"

"Home." He replied, memories of a snow-covered field coming to his mind. A castle sitting atop a small hill with frozen lakes and smaller waterfalls surrounding it. A proud father smiling at him, handing over a sword he did not deserve. His heart yearned to go back, but he knew he could not.

Ned steeled his eyes. "You lost that right when you decided to break your oaths."

Dany spoke up again, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I pray for home too. My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms. He couldn't lead an army even if my husband gave him one. He'll never take us home." She said solemnly.

"Despite the solemn atmosphere, I have to say that its good to see you finally realizing the truth of the situation, my Lady. Lying to yourself would only be detrimental." Tyrion told Dany, whom only gave a weak smile in response.

[At the Hand of the King's tournament. Baelish sees Sansa looking at Joffrey who hides his face from her.]

Peter Baelish leaned over to the girl. "Lover's quarrel?"

Sansa was mildly surprised before she remembered her lessons. "I'm sorry. Do I...?"

"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish. He's known..." Her septa started, but the man interrupted.

"That was so creepy. Some old man you don't even know suddenly whispering into your ear from behind." Theon said, shivering a bit at the thought.

"An old friend of the family. I've known your mother a long, long time." He said.

Arya looked up at the man curiously. "Why do they call you Littlefinger?"

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed aghast."Don't be rude!"

Jon snorted. Trust Arya to be blunt and straight to the point.

"No, it's quite all right. When I was a child, I was very small and I come from a little spit of land called The Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly clever nickname."

"I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" The King bellowed from his spot at stands and Cersei shot glare that could kill at his back.

Robert, as impatient as ever, Ned noted.

[The competitors step forward on their horses, Baelish introduces them to Sansa.]

"Gods, who is that?" Sansa said when she saw the giant of a man going by the moniker 'The Mountain that rides.

The ones who hadn't seen the mountain before all eyed the scene with disbelieving eyes.

"Holy shit" Robb said.

"He's fucking huge" Theon exclaimed.

"Ser Gregor Clegane. They call him the Mountain. The Hound's older brother." Peter supplied.

The kids all whipped their heads towards The Hound.

The Hound just scoffed and ignored them.

"And his opponent?"

"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come."

Robert waved away the contestants, wanting to get to the action. "Yes, yes. Enough of the bloody pomp. Have at it!"

[The joust begins. The first pass takes its course with no contact. On the second pass, the Mountain's joust strikes Ser Hugh in the neck, causing a massive splinter, and his blood is gushing out. This occurs directly in front of where Sansa is sitting.]

"Oh my god!" Sansa cried out and turned away from the bloody scene.

Dany looked away with with a hand to cover her view, while Sam outright squeaked in fright.

The others all winced at Ser Hugh's death. While death was no entirely uncommon in tourneys, it still wasn't pleasant to look at.

"Not what you were expecting?" Littlefinger asked Sansa, breaking her out of her shock.

"Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound?"

Tyrion's eyes almost bulged when he heard where Littlefinger was going with this. The man was fucking crazy or have balls of steel if he was willing to breach that topic, when the rabid dog was standing less than 20 meters away no less.

The Hounds face contorted in anger and his fists clenched.

Those who hadn't heard the tale all listened curiously.

"Lovely little tale of brotherly love. The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence. One evening... Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire... Gregor's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted. There aren't very many people who know that story."

Jon, Robb, Arya, Sansa, Dany, Theon and Sam all had horrified looks on their faces. Even some of the older ones looked appalled.

The hound's face looked murderous and no one dared speak up. Bronn and Tyrion wisely shifted away from the infuriated man.

"I won't tell anyone. I promise." Sansa said, more than a bit afraid and terrified.

"No, please don't. If the Hound so much as heard you mention it, I'm afraid all of the knights in King's Landing would not be able to save you."

Tyrion was almost tempted to laugh at the irony, though he dared not while the Hound was sitting next to him. The irony was just too much. Littlefinger had just sealed his fate because of his big mouth. So much for his clever little schemes.

[In Eddard's quarters, Cersei enters.]

"My Lord, Her Grace the Queen." Jory presented the Queen to his Lord.

"Your Grace." Ned greeted.

"You're missing your tournament." Cersei replied with a forced smile.

"Putting my name on it doesn't make it mine."

Ned eyed the woman warily. Her true nature had been revealed for them all to see and there was no way he would let these things come to pass. He would take whatever he could gleam from these conversations and use it when the time came.

"I thought we might put what happened on the Kingsroad behind us – the ugliness with the wolves. And forcing you to kill the beast was extreme. Though sometimes we go to extremes where our children are concerned. How is Sansa?" She asked.

"She likes it here." Ned replied.

"The only Stark who does. Favors her mother, not much of the north in her."

Ned was growing tired of the woman. He knew she was here for something and wasn't being direct about it. "What are you doing here?"

Cersei's smile dropped, replaced by a bout of seriousness. "I might ask the same of you. What is it you hope to accomplish?"

"The King called on me to serve him and the realm, and that's what I'll do until he tells me otherwise."

Cersei scoffed. "You can't change him. You can't help him. He'll do what he wants, which is all he's ever done. You'll try your best to pick up the pieces."

"If that's my job, then so be it."

Catelyn smiled at her husband's behavior. Loyal and honorable to a fault.

"You're just a soldier, aren't you? You take your orders and you carry on. I suppose it makes sense. Your older brother was trained to lead and you were trained to follow."

The stark children all clenched their fists at the thinly veiled insult.

Ned didn't let the insult get to him. "I was also trained to kill my enemies, Your Grace."

"As was I."

Tyrion sighed. Of course his 'cunning' sister would go and confront the hand of the kind, her husbands' best friend, whom the king loved more than his own actual brothers might he add, and basically declare that she wanted him dead or gone.

[At an inn along the King's Road. Catelyn is heading back towards Winterfell.]

Ned perked up. He had been wondering if he would be able to see anything from his wife's travels. He loved his wife, but when angered she tended to act without thinking, and that worried him to no end.

"Seven blessings to you, goodfolk!" A young man with brown hair and beard greeted, sitting down beside their table.

"And to you." Catelyn replied with a smile.

"Boy! Bread, meat and beer, quickly." Rodrick yelled to the servants in the back of the inn.

"Good idea, grandfather. I'm starving. A song while we wait or?"

"I'd rather throw myself down a well." Rodrick replied and Catelyn stifled a chuckle at the man's honest tone of voice.

Everyone laughed at that.

"Grandfather, it may be your last chance if you're heading north. The only music the northerners know is the howling of wolves!" As the musician finished his statement, the door to the inn creaked open and two men walked in, one clothed in all black and man short enough to be mistaken for a child.

"Oi dwarf, it's you." Bronn said elbowing Tyrion, which hit him in the face.

"Ow, fuck. I can see that without you hitting me in the face, you dolt!"

"Ah, shit, my bad."

[Tyrion and Yoren of the Night's Watch enter the inn. Catelyn attempts to hide herself.]

"I'm sorry, my Lord, we're full up. Every room." The inn keeper told Tyrion.

"My men can sleep in the stable. As for myself, I don't require a large room."

"Truly, my lord, we have nothing." She said, voice earnest.

Tyrion fished a gold dragon from his clothes, holding it between two of his fingers and waving it for all to see. "Is there nothing I can do... to remedy this?"

"You can have my room." A voice spoke up. His clothing was a dull brown and his hair was slicked back with an unkempt beard adorning his face.

"Look Bronn, its you!" Tyrion exclaimed in obviously fake excitement, raising his hand to intentionally smack the man in the face. Payback was a bitch.

Bronn just chuckled, but was actually interested. So, this was where he came into the story. He had been wondering about his place here among these knights, high lords and their children.

"There's a clever man." Tyrion replied throwing the coin for the man to catch. "You can manage food, I trust? Yoren, dine with me."

"Aye, my Lord."

"My Lord of Lannister! Might I entertain you while you eat? I can sing of your father's victory at King's Landing!" Marillion piped up.

"Nothing would more likely ruin my supper." Tyrion said, right before his eyes landed on a woman he knew very well. "Lady Stark! What an unexpected pleasure. I was sorry to have missed you at Winterfell." He said, surprise evident in his voice.

"Nice of you to bust their cover." Theon said.

"I know."

Hushed whispers went around in the inn at the mention of her name.

"I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I stayed here. You, Ser... Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your coat?"

"It is, my Lady." The mentioned knight said.

"And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father... Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?"

"She is."

Most of the viewers raised their eyebrows, where was she going with this?

Catelyn looked around at the people of the room and she spied another sigil of the houses of the Riverland's. "The red stallion was always a welcome sight at Riverrun. My father counts Jonas Bracken amongst his oldest and most loyal bannermen."

"Our lord is honored by his trust." The knight of house Bracken replied standing up.

Tyrion finally decided to speak up, still confused at her sudden actions. "I envy your father all his fine friends, but I don't quite see the purpose of this."

"I was wondering about the same thing, actually." Tyrion said.

"Me too." Davos added.

Catelyn promptly ignored him in favor of addressing another knight.

"I know your sigil as well. The twin towers of Frey. How fares your lord, sers?"

"Lord Walder is well, my Lady. He has asked your father for the honor of his presence on his 90th name day. He plans to take another wife." The Frey knight replied.

"hah" Tyrion said and Catelyn shot him a glare.

"No surprise there" Tyrion said and Bronn laughed.

Catelyn then turned to address the entirety of the Inn.

"This man! Came into my house as a guest and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of 10. In the name of King Robert and the good Lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king's justice.

Tyrion's eyes became wide as saucers and suddenly all of the knights drew their swords towards Tyrion and then the screen turned black.

"What the fuck?!" Tyrion yelled.

They all sat gaping at the scene.

Ned slapped a hand over his face. He was right to be worried. His wife had just done something stupid.

Bronn promptly burst into hysterical laughter.

AN:

Hello, guys!

I am finally back, after all this time!

It's been a long while, mainly cause of university taking up most of my time. This chapter was also excruciatingly hard to write and it wound up being 15k words long. To be honest I kind of rushed to finish it these past few days, but I still hope you enjoy the chapter. I decided to experiment a bit with this chapter. Adding in the lore about the faceless men and writing that part about Jon's failed attempt at flirting with one of the servants. Tell me what you thought of it, and if there are any mistakes grammatical or concerning backstory, pls tell me in a comment or PM.

Also, the story has reached almost 300 followers and 250 favorites, which is amazing. It also has 15k views, which is sick. Thank you to every one of you, it means a lot.

~Please Review~