Chapter 42: Fateful Departures

Forward: Editing credit to Rainsfere.

Four Days after the founding of the Winter Storm Alliance – Midday – White Harbor, The New Castle – Geralt

…

Geralt was silent as he looked over the detailed map of Westeros' eastern coast and Riverlands region. All along it was markings showing logistic routes, troop movements and expected ship routes. It was fascinating to see how a war plan this big could be managed in just a matter of days, which showed just how tactical minded both Robb and Stannis were.

Snapping out of his focused state, his yellow eyes scanning everyone at the table. Every lord from the first meeting was there, chatting between each other as the final plans were being set. Robb and Stannis had been the most involved in the planning, with the young Warden managing the approach by land while the aspiring King with the sea. It was fascinating to see the growing respect the two were building from Geralt's point of view since he had spent months with each of them. Such cooperation in turn united the Northern Lords…at least most of them.

The clack of a heavy mug silenced the yammering, making everyone look to Robb. "I feel we've gone over the war planning long enough, if everyone is in agreement." Nods and mutterings of agreement followed. "If anyone has issues with any aspect of it, then speak freely."

There was a long moment of silence as no one seemed to speak, until a small sigh escaped from one individual. Roose Bolton stood up, the pale skinned Lord setting his dull eyes on Robb. "I am concerned on our approach south into the Riverlands." He explained calmly. "While I understand we have been cut off from our allies within the region and the Lannister's control the most direct route…we're putting a lot of faith in one individual."

All gazes turned to Geralt, the Witcher remaining silent on the matter. His sharp eyes met Roose's, the Bolton showing no hint of weakness or even emotion. "It's not like I am working alone…or that I promised that claiming a secure route would be easy." He answered back. "The alternative would take up much of our time, considering the Lannisters don't need a large force to stall us if they're dug in along the King's Road."

"Bah! Lord Bolton is always a doubter I say!" Greatjon growled. "Even after all the feats the Witcher has done, doing this should be simple!"

A few laughs followed though Roose showed no amusement. "I'm only being realistic. Even with someone as capable as Geralt can run into possible setbacks. We don't have reliable choices if his group cannot succeed in convincing Lord Frey to let us cross through the Twins. Taking that castle bridge would be just as difficult claiming the King's Road."

At this point Stannis would speak up. "As petty as Lord Frey is known to be, even he wouldn't be foolish enough to threaten our alliance. He has more to gain working with us than against us."

"While I would prefer to not use force, we have also given Geralt permission to negotiate any special terms in our stead. After all, he's shown to be capable on such matters." Robb added.

For a moment Roose was silent before nodding. "Then I will accept yours and the King's confidence on the matter." With that the man sat down, acting as if nothing had been spoken of.

If anything Geralt had been busy in preparing the Winter Wolves for the march south. The stream of recruits since the founding during the alliance feast had been constant, with him having to turn down quite many. It wasn't a matter of their skill or discipline, but the fact that he didn't want to deprive the differing lords of some of their most trained bannermen. Already his forces were around one hundred and twenty strong, with the last twenty being a mix of laborers, caravanners and medics to support the main group. Thankfully, supplies hadn't been an issue since he had personally funded the group with his tournament winnings. It was a better use than having it sitting in a bank vault in Braavos.

So far he had appointed commanders to the differing units in the Winter Wolves. Smalljon with the famous Umber great swords, Dacey with her Bear Island shield maidens, Graffin leading the veteran Stark bannermen and Theon managing the combined Houses archers. Beric served as the tactical adviser for the overall company, along with directly leading his own personal group of men. Thoros…well…he was their wild card. Despite being such a varied group, he was confident the group would work together effectively.

"I can assure everyone that the Winter Wolves are ready for this mission. From what Lord Beric has informed me, the company should be ready to ride out tomorrow morning."

Stannis nodded at the news. "Good. The sooner you head south the better for our front on land the better."

"I have already informed Lord Howland Reed of your planned arrived to Moat Cailin and his men will lead you the rest of the way south to Greywater Watch. Considering the…unique nature of House Reed's keep, their guidance will be essential."

The Witcher heard that Greywater was in fact a floating fortress, drifting along the deep bogs and riverways. It seemed crazy that such a structure could exist even for someone of his unique experience. Yet his interest was more towards Howland himself. Even as he looked at Robb, he could tell the Stark had the same thoughts. Both wanted to know the truth about Jon's existence, with Howland being the only one to have possibly been witness to it.

"Now then, unless there is any more debate, this meeting is adjourned." No one spoke up to Robb as everyone moved to collect whatever belongings they had before leaving the room in small groups.

Geralt was among the first to depart, glad that this be his last war gathering for a long time. He just needed a break from the politics that were in play, especially in the background of the war planning. There was a lot he had to do today, since it would be the last time he would see many of his friends for a while. Moving through the hallways of New Castle, he made his way towards Bran's room to at last have a meeting with the boy. Between what Arya had shared about her brother's visions, it seemed some power was manifesting within him ever since the fall from the tower.

When he arrived, he found Bran sitting in his wheelchair close to the fire, reading a book while Hodor sat nearby. The giant of a man was asleep, at times muttering his name between his low snores. Despite the Witcher being so quiet entering, Bran turned his head slightly to glance at him as if expecting him.

The boy gave a small smile before marking his page and closing the book. "I knew you'd show up about now."

"From the way you say it, it's like you knew when my arrival would be." Geralt remarked as he pulled up a seat close by. "Another one of your visions tipped you off?"

Bran was silent for a moment, looking at the fire place before nodding. "It's been happening more often, whenever my mind drifts or when I'm asleep." He explained. "I don't really have control of it, though it seems to focus on people I know, such as you or my family."

"Hmm…it's a normal thing for seers to have from my world." Geralt muttered in thought. "Emotional bonds are powerful to those with foresight. Though how has it worked for you? Are you able to see the future or past?"

"It's…more like the present." Bran answered back a moment of pause. "Whenever I have these visions, it's like I'm there. Standing on my own two legs, though no one seems to notice me. I…" The boy glanced away, a sad look in his eyes. "On the day you said Lord Baelish betrayed you…I saw it too. Him grabbing father with a dagger up to his throat."

The details shared drew a surprised look from Geralt. He hadn't shared such information to any of the Stark children, not wanting to describe that moment. "That is unique…even from my own experience. It also explains why you knew I was about to arrive…if your mind was so relaxed."

Bran nodded. "I think I know why. There have been times I dream that I'm Summer, seeing and sensing his surroundings." He grasped the book in his hands, gripping it tightly. "Old Nan told us all of tales of people gifted by the Old Gods. Green Seers and Wargs."

Hearing those names did spring the Witcher's memory. "Yeah, I remember reading about those during my research when I first arrived in Winterfell. It seems to be a rare gift, much like how mages are from where I come from." His gaze drifted to the fire as he continued to speak. "Symbolic dreams, foresight and the ability to see through or even possess animals. Sounds like things the druids would do."

"Yes…and it's the dreams that are…not about others that worry me." Bran muttered. "I keep having visions of a raven with three eyes along with a grove with a massive weirwood tree, bigger than any I have seen." Again the boy paused, shivering despite the warmth of the fire. "There is someone…or something calling to me. I don't know what it is or why it wants me to find it…only that its old and has waited a long time."

The details of this dream were strange, though the detail about a three eyed raven did spark a memory in him. While it had been in the early months since arriving in Westeros, he remembered seeing Ciri battle the White Walker 'king' before being caught up in a freezing whirlwind and encountering a three eyed raven. For a moment he wondered if he should share this with Bran, but ultimately felt it would complicate the boy's worries with his personal matters.

"It's not unheard of for entities to reach out to the magically gifted when thy're inexperienced. Whatever it is, it may simply be curious or seeking to harm… which can be difficult to judge." He answered. "Considering this world was starved of magic until recently, it would explain why these visions had grown more intense."

"All I know is that this tree is far away. In someplace where the snow never melts…beyond the Wall." A low chuckle escaped Bran. "Well…even if I could walk, I doubt I'd get far out there."

All the Witcher could do was nod back in agreement, though despite the dismissive manner Bran spoke, he could sense the boy was curious still. "I feel it may be best for you start a log, write down everything you see in these visions or dreams. Talk with others about them too if it helps, such as your sisters or Maester Luwin."

After hearing his advice, Bran nodded in understanding. "Thank you Geralt. Hopefully…I'll be able to sort this out on my own." A small smile hinted his face. "At least I won't be alone managing Winterfell. Sansa is going to work alongside me. When we talked about it, she seemed so determined despite never showing much interest before."

"She's not the same young woman who left Winterfell, that is for sure." Getting up from his seat, Geralt stretched a bit before looking to the door. "Anyway I do need to check up on Arya, talk to her about her future training plans. Wouldn't know where she is right now?"

"I believe in the yard practicing with Captain Graffin. Said she needed to get experience fighting against someone good with spears and polearms." Bran answered after a little thought. "Mind if I come along? I need some fresh air…and I don't want to wake up Hodor."

Geralt nodded as he moved to the back of the boy's wheel chair. "Sure. The big guy needs some deserved rest for helping you so much." Pushing the chair forward, he rolled Bran out of the room, making sure to close the door quietly shut behind them.

Going down a few hallways and down the main stairway, they exited the keep through the large gateway leading out to the yard. The varying colors of the different Northern Houses were set around, bannerman either tending to their gear or doing simple practice. Plenty of gazes focused in on the Witcher, low mutterings soon following. At this point he had grown used to such chatter, knowing plenty were awed by his accomplishments or simply sizing him up competitively. It hadn't led to outright challenges, but he could tell plenty were itching spar against him.

Both Bran's and Geralt's attention were at one of the small sparring rings where both Arya and Graffin were busy training. The young Stark girl was wearing her Witcher styled armor and wielding a wooden practice short sword while the bannerman captain was in just his gamberson and leather uniform armed with a blunt wooden spear round wooden shield. A few of the other men were watching as the captain shifted about, shield out before stepping forward to jab with his spear. Arya meanwhile moved about quickly, using her size and speed to dart around trying to get past the soldier's strong defenses.

"Don't turn around like that! If you slide you'll leave yourself open!" He barked before jabbing at her, aiming low for her legs.

For a moment it seemed like she stumbled like the man had warned, only to change to a wider stance. Using the momentum from her dashing, she stomped one foot down on the spear shaft, burying it partly into the dirt. While light, she put all her weight down before springing forward off it, throwing Graffin's weapon arm wide to break his guard. Despite this though the man turned his shield arm around to block the strong stab Arya had lunged into. While the blow did make him step back, the impact nearly knocked the girl to the ground.

"Hah! Smart trick!" Graffin laughed out before he let go of his spear, using his freed hand to give a sweeping hook at Arya while she was off balance. She cursed lowly having to tumble to the side, rolling across the ground until she was on her back. "And by that point I'd have you pinned down with a dagger under your chin."

"Always with damn shields…" She muttered before taking the captain's offered hand to be pulled up onto her feet. By then she noticed Geralt and her brother standing by watching, the serious look on her face quickly changing to a cheerful one. "Geralt! Did you see all of that?" She hurried over to them, giving a short hug to her brother before looking up to the Witcher.

"The last part at least." He answered back. "Seems you used that move I talked about stopping low spear attacks. It's tricky to pull off, even more considering your light weight." The remark on her weight did draw a playful look of annoyance from the girl along with an amused chuckle from Bran.

By now Graffin had come to join them, the gruff soldier laughed slightly with them. "Aye, but that makes her quite fast. If she keeps training like that, even a sturdy defense like mine can be bypassed." He patted the Witcher firmly on the shoulder. "Hard to imagine she's the same lass so many months ago back in Winterfell."

"If anything, she was already tough from the start." Geralt remarked back, which did make a faint blush show on her face. "I hope though you sparring with her won't get you in trouble. Don't want my leading bannerman getting locked up in shackles the day before we march."

"Hah! The same could be said for you from what Lady Arya has told me about the months of training you put her through." The soldier countered back. "She made sure to ask Lord Robb about practicing her skills against the soldiers. So long as it is with training weapons and we don't rough the lass too much."

"Wait, you mean you've been holding back in all our matches?" Arya questioned in an accusing manner, making Graffin give a nervous rub to the back of his neck.

Geralt though was quick to come to the soldier's defense. "He has his orders considering. Still if he wasn't going all out in that last fight, I'm wondering just how fierce he is in a real battle."

The compliment made the gruff man grin. "Didn't survive the Rebellion and Greyjoys on luck alone! You'll see just what me and the other old timers can do once we get south."

The Witcher nodded in agreement. "Anyway, I need to talk to Arya privately about how to continue her training when she goes home to Winterfell."

The others nodded before the two moved away towards a side path beside the keep, leaving Bran to chat with the bannerman captain. Once away from prying ears, Arya was quick to speak up.

"I…know you aren't going to talk about training. It's about Bran and his…visions right?"

There was a moment of silence before the Witcher nodded. "He told me everything about them and how you've had your own." Leaning back against the castle wall, he continued to speak. "So when did they start and what have they been like?"

The girl glanced away, seeming distant for a moment. "It…started a few days after we left King's Landing. They weren't like Bran's where he was standing around watching something happen…but more of me seeing through someone else's eyes." She paused before pacing about, obviously tense. "I was in a vast forest, the feeling of chasing or fleeing constantly going through my head. Just the urge to survive. Who…or whatever it was felt wild yet so familiar."

With what Geralt had learned from Bran, it wasn't hard to realize what this all meant for Arya. "Because it is someone you know. What your describing is seeing the world through Nymeria's eyes."

The remark drew a short gasp from Arya, the girl having nearly forgotten about her direwolf. "I…with so much happening I didn't realize that. Yet it does make sense now." Her rubbed her hands along her arms, seeming conflicted emotionally. "It's like the old stories…of skinchangers…Wargs."

"I think it's all piecing together now." Geralt muttered. "From what the old tales say the Starks have had Wargs in the past, though that was ages ago. Between the stress everyone in the family is enduring and the strange power of the Red Comet, it make sense that it could awaken latent abilities." Thinking for a moment, a new question came to him. "Can you tell me what your last vision was with Nymeria?"

A sudden spark showed in the girl's eyes. "Yes it was a just a few nights!" She quickly answered. "Nymeria wasn't alone, but with a man in black. He was…always muttering rudely yet seemed to be caring for her. Last thing I saw was…lights…and the running water. I think it was them nearing some town at night." The light in her eyes showed a hopefulness now. "Does that mean she's in a town in the Riverlands! Maybe…you can find her! She could come home!"

The idea was a welcoming one to the Witcher since the direwolf was such an endangered creature and so closely bonded with Arya. However the rational side of him knew the issues on such a possibility. "The problem is she could be in any town in that whole region. Then there is the fact we don't know who is…well…caring for her. They could be dangerous." Yet the pleading look in the young Stark's eyes made him sigh out. "But…if I hear talk of an oversized wolf being paraded around, I'll be sure to check for her."

"Thank you!" The hopefulness had her hug the Witcher again, who couldn't help but smile softly at her. By then she realized how childish she was acting, letting go with a faint blush on her face. "So…umm…I'll be sure to talk to Bran if I have more of these visions and record them like he does." Calming down after her moment of shyness, she continued to speak. "So with how my training is going, what do you feel I need to do? It's not going to be the same with you away."

"Yes…but really you've shown amazing talent since we began back in King's Landing. Really it's all about continuing your fitness and exercise, along with honing your own style. What you showed earlier was impressive, but you need to keep practicing to get experience like that. Also, keep training with different weapons beyond just Needle. Even Witchers need to be able to handle more than just blades."

The praise did make a proud look show on her face, though she didn't let it linger for too long to nod in understanding. "Then I'll do just that." Before anything else could be said though, Geralt looked up as he heard someone approaching them from the main yard. It was one of the House guards who seemed a bit winded from running about.

"Hah…Ser Geralt…" The man gasped, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Gods…I've…been running all over White Harbor…looking for you."

"What's going on?"

"It's…a private matter Ser. A sudden visitor of great…importance has called for you."

"One of the Lords?"

"Aye, though not one of ours." The man glanced to Arya, bowing his head slightly. "Ah my Lady…uhhh…may I ask that you-"

"No I understand." Arya replied, giving a formal smile to the man before looking to Geralt. "So…I guess we'll see each other tomorrow before you leave?"

The Witcher nodded. "Yeah…same time as you are heading for Winterfell. So be sure to rest and clean up for the road ahead." Ruffling her hair, she giggled slightly. "Now go see Bran. Talk to him over what we discussed." Quickly the girl hurried off back to the courtyard, leaving Geralt with the guard. "So then, who is this mystery visitor?"

…

White Harbor, The Docks

Geralt walked along one of the stone levees that split out into varying wooden docks, one of which had the imposing 'Fury' tied up. The shipwrights had been quick to fix up the warship since they had arrived, Lord Wyman eager to impress their new ally of his city's capabilities. However the Witcher's attention was more focused on another ship, one that was very different even to the Essos styled ships visiting as well.

The design reminded him of Ofiri, though his last encounter with them had been more of their captive. The vessel was long and narrow with the hull being dark red colored wood while the sand colored sails were angular like a triangle. It seemed like a ship built for speed and comfort, though the well-armed guards showed that the ship wasn't defenseless. The men watching the gangplank or patrolling along the ship were armed with a mix of bladed spears, sabers and recurve shortbows. Their uniforms were patterned light yellow garb and head wraps, though under the fine fabric he could see the mix of leather and half-plate. Though it was expected that the soldiers of Dorne would be well equipped while also showing off their kingdom's lavish style.

Approaching the gangplank, the guards stood tall as he neared, almost in salute to him. Even their sharp gazes betrayed a glowing respect towards the Witcher. "Master Witcher. The Prince has been waiting for your arrival." The guards gestured to the deck of the ship. "He and his family await at the helm deck, having a late lunch."

The Witcher only nodded back in response before moving up the plank then walking across the lavish ship deck. Nearing the short stairs up to the helm, he could hear chatter and light laughter from his unexpected hosts. The helm of the Dorne ship was larger than most, offering plenty of space for a round low set table along with a mix of comfortable sitting chairs and lodging seats.

"At last…Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf of the North. The Mountain Breaker." A sly male voice spoke up, each word rolling with quite the unique accent. "Just a handful of your many titles."

Sitting up in one of the lodging seats was a handsome middle-aged man with lustrous dark hair styled in a short wavy fashion. His chiseled chin and cheeks had a thin well-kept beard along with a mustache as well. The most striking feature were his bright blue eyes with the iris at the center being much darker than normal. The Prince's choice of clothes was fitting of his kingdom's fashion, being a sandy white and yellow robe embroiled with sun shaped patterns evenly across it, the Martell sigil. Even with him being relaxed, Geralt could tell his body was in great shape, a slim tone muscled build perfect for an agile fighter.

Beside him were two women one a few years younger than him and the other being about half his age. The older woman was quite stunning, having long black hair that trailed along her bared shoulders and upper back which her revealing dress showed off. She leaned close to Oberyn, resting her head against his sturdy shoulder while one of her hands traced idly along his robed chest.

The younger woman was dressed in a just as revealing yellow silk gown with golden thread weaved through it, showing off a lithe athletic figure. She sat close yet separate from the others, lodging back in the pillowed seat while eyeing the Witcher. Like Oberyn she had bright blue eyes, hinting at being related to the Dornish Prince.

With a few of his titles shared, Geralt bowed slightly to the Dorne prince. "Prince Oberyn Martell. An unexpected honor to at last meet you."

The prince gave a wide grin before chuckling. "If anything, the honor is mine. I do apologize for inviting you here so suddenly. We only arrived in White Harbor last night and it proved quite difficult to contact you in a timely yet discrete manner." He then gestured to the young woman close by. "Ah and let me introduce to you one of my daughters. Nymeria, my second eldest…"

"A pleasure to meet you Ser Geralt." The young woman's tone having a coy hint to it.

"…and of course my beloved paramour, Ellaria."

Ellaria gave a charming grin after being introduced. "An honor to at last meet you as well Witcher. Oberyn has been talking constantly about meeting you ever since he heard about you."

He had heard of the term paramour before, the role of an unmarried noble's lover. It was not unheard of in his world, though was considered quite indecent still. From what he knew of Dorne, it wasn't uncommon for highborn to have such pairings. Though with the reputation the Martell prince had, he lived a quite liberal lifestyle.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but I am curious on why you're so far north. Sunspear is on the other end of Westeros, a good few weeks or even a month of sailing."

"A fair question to ask. The truth is we were traveling along Essos and visiting the Free Cities, enjoying the luxuries and exotic markets they all have to offer. News of the tournament though were quick to reach me since I do have a few eyes and ears in King's Landing." For a moment, a fierce gleam appeared in his eyes. "So is it true you crippled the Mountain? The Lannister's claim he will soon recover from that battle."

Details about the Lannister's propaganda had grown scarce since they had left Dragonstone. It seems they did not want their enemies to think their most fearsome knight was truly out of commission. "Honestly, I don't think all the Maesters in the Kingdoms could fully heal Gregor. Hamstringed in one leg, pierced elbow along with a broken wrist, hand, and face. He may recover enough to fight again, though not as effectively as before." Geralt had been lucky with his own serious injuries, Vilgefortz being the worst with him shattering one leg. Even with magic along with talented healers aiding him, he could very well have been left limping for the rest of his life instead of just having the occasional ache.

Hearing the details on the Mountains injuries made that gleam in Oberyn's eyes grow, a cruel satisfaction that the Witcher had seen plenty of times. Even Nymeria and Ellaria had pleased looks, both no doubt sharing the same hatred the Martell prince had.

"Gods I would have traded anything to have been there to see it!" Oberyn growled, clenching one hand tightly into a fist. "Hells I would have signed up for the Melee just to get at that monster!"

Ellaria had her hand gently cup her lover's chin, easing the fury the man felt. "That chance may come still. At the least Gregor, no doubt suffers until final justice is given."

The assurance made Oberyn nod in agreement. "True. When I learned he survived that battle I felt conflicted. Yet now I understand why you did spare him." He paused as he tried to read the Witcher's expression, though could not because of that calm demeanor. "The Mountain's crimes are numerous, though what better punishment but to destroy his image and take away his ability to harm anyone. Perhaps that shame will have him beg for death one day."

While Geralt understood the prince's emotions towards Gregor, he knew very well the danger this brought. "He was just another brutish killer, no different to the countless bandits I've cut down." He simply replied. "While I'm glad to have given some peace to your family, I'd prefer to focus on the present."

"Hmm a fair point." Nymeria chuckled with a faint grin. "A war between aspiring kings. Joffrey playing as a puppet ruler, Renly prancing like it's a pageant and Stannis being his ever sullen self."

Oberyn chuckled at his daughter's teasing words, though he showed a serious look on his face. "Really the true contenders are going to come down to just two. King Stannis and King Regent Tywin."

A look of curiosity was shown from Geralt. "Joffrey I can understand considering my…interactions with him. Yet why are you so quick to excuse Lord Renly? Even with the Alliance, he still outnumbers us in both forces and resources." Then again he also knew Renly was not the most qualified when it came to warfare, being more focused on courtly diplomacy.

"It's the matter of his allies the Tyrells. True they have one of the largest armies among the Kingdoms, but they are considered one of the softest." The Martell shook his head slightly. "Dorne and The Reach have long been rivals, dating back to even before the Conquest. All you need to make them flee back to their flowery gardens is to deal a solid victory in battle or strike down the Lords at the lead."

"Father you make it sound too simple." Nymeria sighed, rolling her eyes slightly.

Even Geralt seemed doubtful with the claim, though did understand the logic being shared. Renly and the Tyrells were vying for a victory through numbers, using their clear advantages to pressure a surrender. "Tywin most likely has the same thoughts. Still, it won't be easy…"

"True yet considering his past acts of ruthlessness he will no doubt have some plan laid out." Oberyn remarked quite grimly. "Even when backed into a corner, Tywin won't be one to panic or make foolish mistakes."

By now Geralt had to ask a question that had been on his and countless others' minds within the alliance. "I have to wonder what is Dorne's position in this conflict. So far it seems your kingdom is staying neutral."

"That is a matter for my older brother Doran and the other Houses to decide. While I represent my brother in other parts of Westeros because of his…disability, I can't simply decree what Dorne will do." He answered in a very formal yet blunt manner. "Unless the kingdom's safety or greater interests are threatened, we prefer to avoid conflict."

It was true that Doran was afflicted by a serious case of gout, leaving him wheelchair bound. Despite this, the Martell was a cunning statesman and diplomat. Yet with rumors of his declining health, there was much uncertainty for Dorne's future. "I think you oversimplify your Kingdom's position. I doubt everyone is completely unified with your brother's choices."

The remark made both Nymeria and Ellaria look to Oberyn, a tense look showing in their gazes. Even the prince had a more serious look on his face, a quick change from his more cheerful expressions. "Perhaps you underestimate my kingdom's unity."

"And I think you're either lying or being naïve…if you will forgive my bluntness." Geralt countered. "True, I don't know the mindset of your people, but from my experience no kingdom is that united."

There was a long pause until Oberyn's stern expression broke into a small amused grin, cutting the tension surrounding them. "Now I see why you got men like Robert and Stannis to listen to you. Blunt and honest." He shook his head slightly before continuing. "It is true. There are some Houses within Dorne that wish the kingdom to take a more active role in Westeros' politics, to end our more isolated stance."

"Father…do you have to discuss this?" Nymeria muttered. "I don't want to hear anything about…her."

The remark drew a curious look from Geralt, who also noted the angry hint in Ellaria's eyes as well. "So this is personal as well?"

None of the three answered until Oberyn muttered something in the Dornish tongue. The three spoke between each other for a moment before Nymeria gave a tired sigh and nodded, getting up from her seat. "A shame we couldn't speak more Ser Geralt." She sighed, though had a flirty grin on her face. "Hopefully, next time you'll tell me a few tales on those scars."

Ellaria rolled her eyes at the girl's teasing, gently pushing her forward to the stairs. "Leave the man be. I can tell his heart has long belonged to another." She mused, giving a small parting smile as they both moved down to the lower deck.

"Charming…" Geralt muttered, making Oberyn chuckle in dry amusement. "Your daughter is quite a feisty one compared to most. Did you also know she had a knife on her as well?" The last remark drew a curious look from Oberyn. "Right leg on her outer thigh. Caught a hint of the sheath when she got up and noticed how she moved to compensate for it."

"Hah…they weren't lying about your sharp perception. Then again, an example of those wild eyes of yours." Oberyn remarked. "Indeed though, my daughters are unique. I raised them to be free-spirited and independent, taught them how to protect themselves along with involving them in courtly matters if they so wished it." Pausing, he noted the look in the Witcher's eyes. "I can tell you understand it very well. It's written on your face…you have daughter as well."

"An…adopted one from a quite complicated matter." Geralt answered. "I can't have children ever since I became a Witcher. The alchemical process sterilizes those who survive it."

The details shared drew a surprised look from the prince, which turned into one of sympathy. "I guess to obtain the strength you have, it comes at quite the price."

Geralt did not remark back, having come to terms with it. "So what makes recent politics in Dorne so personal to your family? From how your daughter reacted, it must be someone quite close."

"Very close…shared blood close." Oberyn sighed as he got out of his seat, pacing over to the back railing of the ship. Geralt stood up as well, moving to stand off to the right just behind him. "It's known that I have eight daughters, but in truth I have nine. A twin eldest borne alongside Obara, though if you compared the two they would seem to be complete opposites."

"So this ninth daughter is involved with this faction in Dorne? If she is your eldest that must make her into her late twenties if I'm correct."

"Twenty eight in fact. It was her birthday just a few days ago." Oberyn chuckled sadly. "Alya is her name, the star child among the Sand Snakes. Doran always said she was like a female copy of me. I dedicated so much into raising her, took her all across Westeros and Essos all while studying politics and mastering spear fighting."

"A real heir apparent. Yet I feel your dodging the question."

Sighing, Oberyn shrugged slightly. "I show my daughters the world, to let them experience it and understand the quality of life Dorne has in comparison. Alya felt the rest of Westeros was backwards, where the small folk seemed barely better than the slaves in Essos and constant feuding among the Houses leading to senseless warring. Her deeper studies into history only strengthened that view point."

If anything that assumption was mostly correct. Past conflicts could have been avoided if more of the Houses were unified, having settled old disputes more fairly. Even then though there would always be someone who craved more power, someone like Littlefinger who could easily throw everything into chaos. "So what happened?"

"Unlike my other daughters, Alya became deeply involved in politics at a young age. Even if she was born a…bastard…she built up a web of political allies. Minor lords, trade companies and even estimated members in the army. It was the makings of a coup."

"Yeah…that does sound familiar to me." Geralt remembered the first months of having escaped from the Wild Hunt, when he had lost his memory. In the long chain of events that followed, he got caught up in a conspiracy created by Foltest's daughter, though because of his involvement and backstabbing, it had crumbled. "Though it seems like you prevented it."

"Aye we did. She was overconfident, too upfront on her plans. Youthful inexperience really. Those involved were either imprisoned or forced into submission though for her…she was exiled. Despite her intentions…we couldn't hate her for her ideals." He sighed deeply before chuckling. "Yet she never gave up. It was foolish of me to think that. After all, that is just how I am."

"You mean she's returned? Is that the real reason why House Martell is staying neutral?"

Oberyn didn't answer immediately, until he gave a small nod. "I assumed she had simply found a new life in Essos, yet it seems she has only built up her strength in secret. In recent years, our House's agents gathered coded letters, notable coin trading hands and even weapons being smuggled about. We don't know who it is, but she has gained a powerful ally who is keen on shaking the status quo."

"From the way you describe it gives me a few ideas. Littlefinger comes to mind, considering his schemes in King's Landing."

"Perhaps…" Oberyn mused. "Whatever the case, my brother is too focused on trying to maintain control back home. If there wasn't the threat within our court, siding with Stannis' alliance would be a favorable choice."

"Because he'd be the swiftest means for getting justice towards the Mountain…or at least what's left of him."

"Yes…though there is more than that. While that monster raped and murdered my sister along with her children, many assumed Tywin was the one to give the order for their deaths."

Even Geralt had heard that claim during his time in King's Landing. Considering Lord Tywin's cold ruthlessness, it seemed possible. After all the 'removal' of any possible Targaryens, even ones so young, earned Tywin quite the favor with Robert. Whatever the case, he doubted Gregor would share the truth, considering how persistent the man was.

"So a greater revenge? It's one thing to seek it against a vile knight, but a high standing Lord like Tywin is a risky one." Geralt remarked. "Does this extend to the rest of his family?"

For a moment, a look of anger flashed in Oberyn's eyes, though quickly calmed. "In Dorne we don't believe in such things. While I have distaste for the older members of the family…along with that brat of a 'King', I wouldn't think of ever harming any of Lady Cersei's younger children or the rest of the Lannister family."

"Heh…quite noble ideals." At least the Witcher hoped. Too often he saw too many innocents get caught up in feuds like this.

"Bah but enough of conspiracies, politics and revenge! I didn't come to push my troubles onto you, if anything you already carry enough on your shoulders." Laughing out he gave a firm clap to Geralt's shoulder, a bit to the Witcher's annoyance. "I can still do much for you personally. If you need coin, information or shelter, any will be freely given within reason."

For a moment Geralt thought over the generous promise. True having Oberyn and by extension the Martell's in his favor would be useful, yet he didn't have any way of using their aid. That was until a sudden realization came to him. "I do have something in mind, a personal matter of great importance."

"Simply ask my friend."

"I need to get two companions of mine to Braavos, Ser Barristan and Syrio. Your ship seems quite fast and well-armed, so I'm sure you could get them there with no trouble."

"That is true! We have traveled the whole length to Essos and Westeros." Obyern boasted. "You have some quite colorful friends. Barristan requires little say, since his accomplishments are literally part of history…though Syrio…that is a name I remember hearing of."

"In Braavos I take? Admittedly I don't know much beyond his stories learning the Water Dance and how he claims to have been the First Blade of the city."

"Heh…considering the tales I heard he was more of chased out of his home. It seemed he angered someone quite influential, giving him a roguish fame." The prince shrugged. "How much is true or exaggerated is unsure, as rumors go. However I'm curious as to why you want me to ferry these two? Is it a favor to them or something more?"

Geralt didn't reply at first as he thought over how to answer. "Barristan claims he has a personal matter to see to in Essos. I believe it involves Daenerys…"

"Ah the last Targaryen. From what I last heard she's disappeared after her husband's death, though I'm sure even you have heard of it. I wonder why though the honored knight would…hmm…no it'd be best not to question his motives." Realizing his mutterings, he glanced back at Geralt. "So what other reasons are there?"

"Despite Barristan's motives, both are also looking for someone for me. My adopted daughter Ciri. I…came into information that she's somewhere in Essos. I know she's safe considering her skills, yet I want to reach out to her, find a way to reunite."

"And who better to track her down than Westeros' greatest knight and Braavos' finest duelist." Oberyn chuckled. "I can understand your plight and find your request simple enough. When do you expect your companions to leave?"

"Hopefully tomorrow once I inform them. They don't need much time to prepare for travel."

"Good. I'd prefer to leave White Harbor before drawing too much attention. No telling how many eyes the Lannisters have even up here, so I rather not have them think Dorne is picking sides." Shifting away from the railing, Oberyn paced towards the front of the helm, Geralt following along. "Of course don't expect this favor to be my only offering. House Martell and Dorne will always welcome you."

"Hopefully, I can enjoy that hospitality once this conflict is over." Geralt dryly jested, offering a hand out for the man to firmly shake.

"Gladly! I'm sure all of Sunspear will host a fair just for you." Oberyn boasted as the two headed down to the deck, strolling towards the gangplank off the ship. "I wish you safety on your endeavors in the Riverlands. Considering the strangeness rumored to be going on, anything can happen."

"Trust me, with what I've been through…few things surprise me." Bowing his head in respect, he moved to leave the ship. "Until next time Prince Oberyn."

"Goodbye Witcher." With a charming smile and parting wave, Oberyn watched Geralt walk down the stone dock until he disappeared into the crowds. Nymeria and Ellaria gathered beside him, the paramour leaning up against him.

"Such a mysterious man that one. It seems he's cursed to always find trouble." She mused.

Oberyn nodded in agreement. "It does seem much has happened because of his actions and no doubt he'll bring more change to the world. We'll have to keep a close eye on him…see what opportunities can open up for us…"

…

The Next Day

Geralt was thankful that he had been able to go to bed early and wasn't disturbed throughout the night. Since he was going to be traveling far and often, he doubted he'd enjoy a proper meal for a good while. Waking up early as usual to get all his gear and saddlebags prepared for Roach as they'd begin their long mission in the south. Lord Manderly had even sent a servant with a fresh breakfast as well, a final parting gift from the boisterous noble. "At least he has the best taste in food among all the lords I've met." Geralt mused to himself, packing up the leftovers of his meal before getting dressed

"Let's go let's go!" The squawking of Naser making him glance over to see the gray feathered raven hopping about the window. The bird had arrived from the Wall quite a long time ago, seemingly knowing where Geralt would arrive. Since then he had been keeping him around his temporary home, planning to take him with him.

Pausing in getting dressed, he sighed in minor annoyance. "Alright. Not like I need to carry you around anyway." He snagged a few bread pieces from his meal to feed the bird before opening the window. "See you later Nasr."

Once it had gobbled up some food, the bird cawed and bobbed it's head happily. "So long!" With that it fluttered it's wings and it flew off, disappearing from sight among the surrounding buildings.

Finishing suiting up in his Wolf School armor and duel blades, he grabbed his packs before heading outside for the nearby stables. Roach was standing by in one stall, well-groomed and reshoed for travel. It had been amusing when Roach showed up at the New Castle stables, baffling all of his companions since they remembered last seeing the mare all the way at King's Landing. He just stopped questioning how the horse seemingly appeared when needed, just another oddity in his crazy life.

"Well at least we don't have to worry about drowners and ghouls spooking you on the road. One benefit of this world." Geralt muttered to the mare, who huffed as he got the saddle strapped on.

"Heh is it normal to speak to your horse like that?" An amused voice spoke up, making Geralt turn around to see Syrio lean against one post. Standing close by was Barristan, the old knight shaking his head at the duelist's joke. "Then again, I question if it is really a horse and not some demon in disguise."

"Just a habit I got from traveling alone." Geralt excused. "So I take you got my message? All set to leave?

Barristan nodded. "Not hard to prepare, considering we travel light. I'll admit your pick for transport is…unexpected."

"What is there to complain?" Syrio questioned. "Prefer the comfort of a royal brig over a crude merchant sloop. Besides, I've always wanted to meet the famous Red Viper himself. I'm sure he could even show us a dueling trick or two."

"It seemed like the quickest way to get both of you across the Narrow Sea. Besides, the Prince was persistent on repaying me somehow."

"I can understand. Having met Prince Oberyn I know his charisma is quite…eccentric." The knight sighed. "Bah…I sound ungrateful. We'll no doubt arrive at Braavos within the week if the weather favors us."

"Good. The sooner you get to Essos the better. I know you have your own reasons to cross…yet if you do find any trace Ciri-"

"We'll find her! I know this for certain!" Syrio quickly promised. "I owe you my life twice over after all. Even if it takes the rest of my life, will find her!"

"Woah…no need to go that far." Besides if the White Frost was truly coming they didn't have that much time considering. "I'm thankful you're doing this for me, but I'd rather not have you risk your lives."

"Of course. Syrio is simply…passionate about our quest." Barristan replied politely, even though the duelist scoffed slightly. "I'll be sure to keep a record of our search and send messages back. Though…it will be hard for you to receive them."

"Yeah…guess sending them to White Harbor or Winterfell will have to do." At that point, he remembered one last detail. "Ah right…I can't just send you off coinless too. Not sure how exchange in values are between the cities, yet this should handle any costs in Braavos." He plucked a sizable coin pouch which he tossed to Syrio, catching it with ease before peering inside at the iron square coins.

"Heh, putting those tournament winnings to further use. We'll put this to good use."

If anything Geralt had used most of it just equipping the Winter Wolves. He had enough left over in the accounts if needed, though he doubted he'd waste it on selfish interests.

"We will use it wisely for sure." Barristan assured, giving a warning look to Syrio. "Not on drinks and excess if the good duelist has such plans."

Syrio gave a wide grin, trying to seem innocent. "For you, my pious friend…of course." In a show of goods faith he even handed the pouch over, which the knight tucked away. "But we've bantered for too long! The Witcher has to see to his men and begin his march. We have a boat to catch."

That was a fair point since the morning hour was passing. "Then I wish you both the best of luck. It's been an honor having you stand alongside me."

"And hopefully we will do so again one day!" Syrio boasted as they shook hands.

Barristan didn't reply at first, a deep look showing in his eyes as he too shook hands. "Perhaps…it will matter on how my journey goes." Despite his somber tone, he returned a soft smile back. "Keep to your ways Witcher. Continue to guide the young and strive honorably."

"You too Ser Barristan."

With those final goodbyes, the knight and duelist made their way to the docks. As he mounted up and rode through the city streets, he had a feeling that the two were going to face quite the adventure together.

…

The Docks

"Ah! There it is! Truly the Dornish have some of the most beautiful ships in the world! Heh…not like the buckets we've seen so far." Syrio laughed out before noticing how Barristan was lagging behind. "What is it my friend? I apologize if my jests trouble you. It was all in good humor."

The old knight seemed to snap out of his thoughts before shaking his head. "No, simply a lot on my mind."

For a moment Syrio narrowed his eyes as he studied the man closely, coming to a realization. "Yes…I see it now! The doubt and uncertainty, a man driven by duty not lost without it!" While Barristan didn't reply to deny or confirm, the duelist pressed on. "This quest of yours', does it pertain to the last Targaryen?"

The question only drew a hint of a reaction from the knight, gone in the blink of an eye. "That is of my concern…not yours." He stated in a steady tone, though the glare in his eyes was…chilling.

At that point Syrio realized he was too pressing on the matter, giving a disarming grin and patting the man on the shoulder. "Again I mean no disrespect. Whatever your path is, it will no doubt be one I follow as well. After all the girls we seek seem entwined with fate." Lightly he nudged Barristan towards the Dornish ship. "Luckily, I have a favor to call on in Braavos, a group who you could say are a fine tool of enforcing it."

"Really now?" Barristan question, his cold demeanor replaced by curiosity. "A bold claim to make."

"And one I will stay silent on until we arrive." Slipping away from the knight, he took the lead. "Come now Ser Barristan, Essos with all its dangers and beauty awaits us!"

While Syrio was busy introducing himself to the ship guards, Barristan would look out to the Narrow Sea to the east. In truth the duelist was right, he was unsure of what he would do. "It will all matter to her. Will she be different…or will the cycle repeat once more." The thought made him grip his sword hilt, making him glance to his side at it. He had learned how duty could be a powerful drive yet also a blindfold for him. It was a plain fact the Witcher had made him realize, a truth that he wouldn't ignore again. "Daenerys…" He relaxed his grip before moving forward to board the ship, beginning what may be his greatest and last journey.

…

The Western Gate

The gate out of the city was open already, showing the impressive lineup of mounted bannermen and a few caravan wagons. Each gathered group was in a square formation, separate based on their role within the Winter Wolves.

Smalljon rode on a massive warhorse to handle his great size, his fellow Umber warriors also sharing similar imposing mounts. The heavy cavalry would no doubt smash through even a solid spear wall. Next to him was Graffin and the Stark veterans, grizzled yet determined soldiers adapt for varying roles on the field. Across from the Umber bannermen was Dacey along with a mix of shield maidens and Bear Island Warriors. They truly did remind Geralt of the Skelligors, considering them favoring axes and thrown weapons. Lastly was Theon who lead the united Houses archers and scouts, a quite roguish bunch considering their hooded cloaks.

"Company, attention! Ser Geralt has arrived!" Beric order out, everyone silencing their bantering as the Witcher approached. He rode among the gathered bannermen, giving a short nod to each division leader he passed.

At the front of this colorful company was Beric and Thoros, the Red Priest giving an excited grin once Geralt reached them. "Better get used to being called Ser all the time. Like it or not, you're practically a knight to even the Lords."

"Better than the usual names I've been given." Geralt dryly jested. "It is a first for me to lead a group of soldiers though…" Geralt remarked back as he overlooked the gathered company, who were relaxing now that formality was done with. "Can't believe we got so many to join up."

"Because they know you'll get things done." Beric remarked. "You get results after all Ser Geralt and put those in your company first. It's rare for any leader to have such qualities."

Even for Geralt it was impactful to him. True his exploits in his world inspired others, yet that had taken decades to build up. In just over half a year he had done that and more in Westeros, a shocking feat which even he nearly couldn't believe. "Then I'll do my best to keep to those expectations, with of course wise advise from all of you." He at last replied, drawing respectful looks from his companions.

"We'll do our best to share our expertise whenever you wish it."

"Hah, he's just being humble as ever!" Thoros laughed before shifting in his saddle, taking out a bundle of cloth from a satchel along with a long pole set off to the saddle's side. "Do got one surprise left for yah!" Unwrapping the cloth, he attached it to the pole before hefting it up, letting the banner flow in the morning breeze. The white cloth had a gray snarling wolf face on the front that resembled his Witcher medallion. The only differnece to what he wore around his neck was how the deep red eyes were a piercing blue. Along it were soft blue swirls which Geralt assumed was to represent wind or snowfall. "Not bad handy work huh? When our enemies see that they'll shit themselves knowing who's in charge!"

"Seems you have an artistic flare Thoros. And here I thought you only worked with reds." Theon jested, the Greyjoy along with Smalljon, Dacey and Graffin approaching to join the conversation.

"Bah, shut it Ironborn." The Red Priest scoffed in annoyance, drawing a few chuckles from the others.

"Ahh! This is going to be the beginning of a real legend!" Smalljon growled eagerly, the giant of a man riding on a just as massive horse. "The North's finest against the world!"

"Or at least whatever the Lannisters have to throw at us." Dacey smugly corrected, drawing a scowl from the Umber.

"Alright enough joking between all of you." Geralt ordered. "Amusing as it is, I'd prefer everyone gets along. We are going to be working together for months on end, so cooperation is needed." Short nods followed from the young nobles, agreeing to his words. "Now, just have to wait for Lord Robb and the King…"

On cue there was the sound of trumpets, making the Winter Wolves sit at attention as they faced the gates once more. Geralt and his companions did the same, watching as the royal escort filed out of White Harbor. Stannis and Robb were at the lead, with Davos and Melisandre trailing behind them. Further back was a large carriage, which Geralt knew carried the rest of the Stark family for the journey back to Winterfell.

Stannis studying the Winter Wolves as he rode by, his stern gaze making the younger bannerman tense nervously until he passed them. At last the aspiring King and young Warden reached them, Geralt along with his companions bowing their heads in respect. "Good morning Lord Robb and King Stannis." Geralt greeted formally.

"As to you Witcher." Stannis muttered. "I must admit your…Winter Wolves look promising. A balance of young and veteran bannermen.

"Aye, your grace." Graffin replied. "The bulk of the older soldiers are mainly from House Stark and Umber. Since most of us served during your brother's campaign, we remember the Riverlands quite well."

"Yes…I remember the details from the meetings." Stannis bluntly stated back.

At this point Robb joined the conversation. "The Winter Wolves will no doubt be capable in serving this alliance. We all have confidence that you will secure our approach southward." Nodding to one of his attendants, who moved closer to hand over leather scroll tubes to them. "These hold the best maps of the Riverlands, along with official letters to all respective Houses in the region. The seals on each will help identify which they belong to."

"While we don't know the full situation within the region, securing allies will improve our foothold. At the least…ensure none oppose us." Stannis added.

"I'm doubtful any will be against us once they learn of the alliance." Geralt tried to assure.

"Perhaps…however we best not delay much longer. Lord Stark after all must return to Winterfell to organize the main army, while I finish plans for our approach at sea. We all have our roles to follow, all equally important." He offered a hand, which Geralt shook firmly. "Safe travels Ser Geralt. When we next meet it will hopefully be on the day of victory back in King's Landing."

"Hopefully…your grace." He didn't want to be too optimistic on a speedy end to the war, a gut feeling that things would become more complicated over time. "Be safe your grace." With that parting, Stannis turned his horse about to return back into the city, though Davos lingered to say his goodbyes. Robb gave a respectful nod to the group before moving back towards the carriage, knowing Geralt wanted to speak to the Stark family before leaving.

"Won't be the same without you two around. Quite the adventure really." Davos remarked, giving a sad smile to Geralt and Thoros.

"Hah! I'm going to miss you, you old sailor." Thoros chuckled out as he roughly shook hands with him.

"Ah well…the King does need an admiral for the fleet and a reasonable voice when needed." His stray gaze to the Red Priestess hinted what he meant, though she showed no reaction to the muttering.

"All good reasons to be at his side. You're a good man Davos, the right kind of adviser to have." Geralt remarked, patting the man on the shoulder. "Take care. Be safe out at sea."

"I will. You stay safe as well, Witcher." With a short wave, he turned to catch up with his King, letting Melisandre have a turn to speak. Thoros scowled slightly at her, sharing Davos' dislike of the woman.

"Well get on with it…whatever prophecy you claim to have." He growled at her.

She tilted her head slightly in confusion, a hint of amusement on her lips. "I find your doubt saddening Thoros…"

"Nah…it's not a matter of faith if that is what you imply." The priest argued. "It's more of trusting what you have to say. Easy to claim the Lord of Light speaks through you when it's simply your own gain."

At that point, Geralt decided to step in before the argument got any worse. "Then let's get to the point. What is it that you wish to say?"

She focused her calm gaze onto him, the Witcher sensing a seriousness from her. "There are darker forces ahead of you, both from beyond this world and from it. One human and the other unnatural. Both hide in plain sight, deception and trust is their knife." She gave a soft sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted off of her. "Every vision in the fires has become vague. Possibilities countless…death and chaos grows stronger over life and order…"

The woman's words drew quite confused looks from Geralt's companions, with Theon muttering something to Smalljon who bit back a smirk. It was obvious they found her warning to be an exaggerated superstition. Geralt knew otherwise that the woman had true power to her, the warning making his suspicions seem more likely.

"But I know you will succeed." She continued, her eyed look softening. "For your bound by fate. Your time will not come until you've completed whatever it has designed." For a moment she seemed to lift one hand out as if to touch him, though realized how she acted, pulling back. "The world needs a hero. A Last Hero…remember that Geralt of Riva." With those parting words she rode away, leaving the Witcher's companions muttering.

Smalljon groaned in annoyance. "Bah, fair as she is, the lady is a bit daft in the head. Last Hero…the nerve of her of spouting out our oldest legends like it's her own!"

"Well if anyone has a chance of matching that tale, it's definitely be him." Dacey remarked, trying to calm the large warrior.

Geralt vaguely remembered reading on the subject, though it had been long ago when he first arrived at Winterfell. For now he didn't let the priestess' words distract him. "We can gossip on this later." He spoke up, gaining everyone's attention. "Lord Beric, get the company ready to march while I take care of one final matter."

"Of course, Ser Geralt. Alright everyone back to their groups! We ride in formation, wagons in the center!"

With the bannerman getting organized, Geralt rode over to the Stark carriage, getting up close to one side that had the window hatch open. He could see Sansa and Bran sitting by the opening, peering out at the gathered troops, with Arya looming between the two to look as well. Rickon was huddled close to his older brother, seeming quite shy with so much going on. Robb meanwhile was busy giving orders for his men, most likely final details on their trip back to Winterfell, giving him some privacy to talk to the rest of the family.

"Not too crowded in there I hope?"

The three siblings looked to him when he spoke up, amused looks on their faces. "Not really, unless you count Arya trying to prance around the whole carriage." Sansa teased, even nudging her sister.

"Well Robb said I could ride later! I hate being cooped up in carriages…" Arya grumbled playfully. "I don't know how I survived the trip we made going to King's Landing."

"Can't be as rough as sailing on a warship." Bran added. "Both of you have traveled nearly the whole continent in length."

Seeing the Stark children banter was heartening to Geralt. He couldn't imagine how difficult it would have been if they had remained separated. At least now they could support each other, grow stronger despite the loss of their father and coming war.

"Seems I don't need to lecture any of you on behaving, unless Robb has gotten to that." Geralt chuckled, making them all quiet down. "I'm sure Winterfell and the North will be in good hands once he marches south." Even while they were young, the three did have expected roles as nobility. Underneath their youthful habits, they all had a more mature side when the time called for it.

"It will be strange for me, but I will do my best to lead." Bran admitted, since as the second eldest he would have to take the temporary role of lordship while Robb was away. "I'm sure Maester Luwin and the others will do their best to help us during these difficult times."

"Just be careful with your choices and be aware of what is happening around you. Last thing you want is someone working behind your back." At this point Geralt knew the topic was becoming too serious, a bad habit of his. "Anyway…Arya I do have one last gift for you." Reaching into one saddle pouch, he took out a small cloth wrapped item, handing it over to the curious girl.

When she unwrapped it, her eyes went wide as she recognized the elegant black leather sheath of the Valyrian dagger, the same one that threatened Bran's life. She unsheathed it slightly to see her reflection on the polished blade, seeming conflicted with this gift. "Geralt…I…this weapon would be better with you."

"True, it's been useful at times but unneeded. Besides, you need a suitable weapon to work on your style, so this is a perfect choice." He explained. "If anything that dagger has a black history, taking lives instead of protecting others. Perhaps you can change that."

Arya was silent as she thought over his words, glancing back at the weapon before nodding. "You're right. To protect my family…my sister and brothers." She sheathed the blade fully, a renewed determination in her bright eyes. "I'll use it well."

"I know you will." Suddenly Arya reached both arms out, wrapping them around his neck in a tight hug. The other Starks joined the embrace, all of them caring for him, wanting him to be safe.

"Be safe Geralt." Sansa muttered, the young woman holding back tears. "Keep doing what you do best…protecting others."

It was odd hearing that. Always back home people called him nothing more than a killer, but now he was seen as an honorable guardian. Just knowing that fueled his confidence, his sense of hope for the future.

"I promise." At last he was let go, giving one last look to the three Stark's. "Goodbye." With that simple parting, he turned Roach about to ride back to his companions. Part of him wanted to look back, keeping that urge away as he didn't want to make this parting any more difficult.

"Can't say I've seen you that emotional before Geralt."

Robb's voice snapped Geralt out of his sad thoughts, the young Warden giving a small smile to him as he rode along for now.

"Just not used to being treated this way. Its welcoming but...unexpected." It was hard for even him to think of the proper term.

"I guess even a growing legend like you has to have moments of weakness. Its only normal to have, no matter how hardened of a warrior we become."

"Heh, seems Eddard did share some wise words."

The mention of the late Lord did have Robb nod somberly before a sharp look showed in his eyes. "What matters now is making things right. You know the plan…and how you have our permission to do whatever it takes to accomplish it."

Geralt knew the 'plan' was more than just getting House Frey on their side and securing Fairmarket. It was also finding out the truth Eddard had taken with him to the grave, a secret that only Lord Howland may know. The firm tone of the Warden showed how seriously he took this, bordering on even his honorable morals.

"Done the impossible so far…so I think my chances are good."

The dry sarcasm broke Robb's serious demeanor, a much needed change. "Very true Geralt." Sighing, they shook hands as it was time to part. "Send a raven once you've reached Greywater Watch, then another at the Twins. If any complications arise, I want to be prepared for it. Until then, we'll hopefully meet again at Fairmarket."

"Then until then. Be watchful Robb, keep all the Lords together for this."

"I plan to. Take care Geralt."

The two parted, returning to the head of their respectful groups. At the lead of the gathering company, Geralt looked to his trusted companions and then the gathered bannermen watching him with excited looks. For once he had a nervous feeling in his gut, the fact that everyone here was putting their lives based off his choices. Then again, that's how it has been for many of his adventures. He just hoped he wouldn't make the same mistakes like before.

"Alright…let's do this." Raising one hand, he gestured forward before yelling out. "Winter Wolves! Forward march!" As he took the lead riding at the front, the order was echoed out throughout the company as it moved in one formation. The walls of White Harbor slowly disappeared behind the neighboring hills, leaving them just the wide road and the beautiful nature of the North.

It was a peaceful beginning for the Winter Wolves, a reprieve that none of them would enjoy for too long.

…

Notice: It has been a difficult few months since the Covid outbreak spread worldwide. Between work and stress, it has slowed me down in my writing. I do apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I also like to personally thank everyone who works an essential job during this time, especially in medical. They are the real heroes in this difficult times and deserve our respect!

Anyway this chapter will no doubt have a few edits over time, so please keep that in mind. I can say I rewrote this one the most out of any chapter, since I realized so many characters were involved and going their separate ways. There will be more points of view over time, though have a one question for everyone.

How does the Syrio and Barristan buddy adventure sound? It be a few chapters for what I have in mind, yet I want to know interested everyone is with the idea. So please feel free to comment or even vote on a poll I'll be putting up later today.

As always, thank you everyone for reading! Stay safe and entertained!