11

(The Red Keep, King's Landing)

It had been several weeks since the tournament had ended and in that time Tytan had once again slipped into his familiar routine. He woke up relatively early, had a few hours of training with his guardsmen, drilling with sword, spear and axe. A useful activity for both him and his men, one which kept their skills sharp and their bodies in good physical condition.

After that he would break his fast with his family, mainly with Cersei, Jamie, Tommen and Marcella. As Robert wasn't really that much of a family man and rarely got up before noon, and Joffrey, well Joffrey was a little shit and claimed he had better things to do, which probably meant leering and sneering at people in the halls of the Keep. That or he was off somewhere torturing puppies.

Following that Tytan would then set about his work, he'd contact Beric and get a report on the comings and goings of his Goldcloaks and other soldiers and agents. This normally included a rundown on his existing forces and what was happening in the Kingdom, and whether any of his men were showing signs of corruption. Thankfully such things rarely happened, especially since Tytan was known to be utterly ruthless and without mercy when it came to corruption and betrayal. With him seeing it as little more than treason and treachery and something that was punishable by death.

Following that Tytan would call in one of his faithful Maesters, the ones he had overseeing his accounts and the management of his assests, and have them report on his existing assets, and what they had been able to gather using Littlefinger's former spy network.

Something which was most prevalent in the south of the continent, though did have some reach in the North. Most recently Tytan had learned that Bran Stark had awoken with no memory of his injury, and this his Uncle Tyrion had just gotten back to the city and was already in one of Tytan's brothels. He was also told of rumours about a new King beyond the Wall, and of Lysa Arryn in the Vale having now fully descended into madness.

These meetings tended to take up the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, and would then be followed by Tytan sitting on the throne and taking petitions from nobles and commonfolk, acting in his father's stead whilst the great whale finally rolled out of bed and set about getting up. After which he would probably either go hunting or drink himself into another stupor.

Then once the petitions were over he would take a ride and get a bit of fresh air and then head back to King's Landing, where he would while away the rest of the day in a tavern or a high class brothel. It was a routine, a well-balanced one which allowed him to play and have fun, whilst also being productive and playing the part of a respectable Prince.

Waking up this morning though, with a slightly dry mouth and a warm body nestled comfortably into his side a shock of golden blonde hair splayed over his chest, he was about to have his routine disturbed. With the disturbance coming about in the form of a loud knock sounding on his door, far earlier than his usual wakeup call was.

"What is it?" Tytan groaned out, an irritable expression on his face as he pushed himself up slightly in his bed, his fine silk sheets sliding off him, even as the woman sharing his bed let out a disgruntled moan before she turned and buried her head into her pillow, pulling her silk covers over her as she did so.

"The King has sent a servant to bring you a message!" Arthur, one of Tytan's guardsmen, called out. The tired looking man opening the door slightly as he looked into the Crown Prince's chambers, a slight grin slowly spreading across his face as he saw the withering look Tytan was giving him.

"Well send him in." Tytan groaned out, before he pushed himself out of bed. Only pausing long enough to make sure the girl warming his bed, a pretty and kind girl by the name of Alyssa Tarley, a member of a cadet branch of House Tarley, was still covered by the sheets.

In response to his words, the door opened and Jamie entered, a slight smirk on his face as he saw the disgruntled expression on Tytan's face.

"The King's servant?" Tytan asked dryly, sending the fully armour Arthur an amused look, before looking back to the armour clad Jamie.

"Strictly speaking aren't we all the King's servants?" Jamie asked just as dryly, though there was a slightly disgruntled expression on his face at the Prince reminding him. Jamie after all hated Robert even more than Tytan did, seven hells he hated the man more than Cersei did.

"Speak for yourself, I serve no man." Tytan replied easily, standing up from his bed fully naked and wandering over to a large dresser. Absentmindedly pulling on some, somewhat clean black breeches, a pair of polished knee high, black leather boots and a smart yet simple grey jerkin.

"No but show him the right woman and he'll be on his knees in seconds." Arthur snidely called out from where he was standing guard in front of the Prince's door.

"What's that, did Arthur just say he wanted to help the stable boys muck out our horse's stalls today?" Tytan asked, an amused note to his tone.

"No, but I think he was commenting upon your infatuation with some dream girl." Jamie commented lightly, the slightest of smiles playing around his face as he leant back against the wall of Tytan's room, his golden Kingsguard helmet under one arm and his other hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"We don't get to choose who we love." Tytan shrugged, as he grabbed his sheathed Valyrian sword and long dagger and belted them around his waist.

"I know." Jamie replied quietly, his tone turning slightly somber as he heard that.

Walking towards the door Tytan patted Jamie on the shoulder, a soft smile on his face. "The heart divine or otherwise is a complicated thing Uncle, one which mortals will never truly comprehend. All we can do it follow it and hope for the best."

Jamie nodded as he heard that, not quite fully understanding his nephew's words, but getting the general gist of what he was saying.

"So what did the fat man want?" Tytan suddenly asked, changing the tone of the conversation.

"Oh right, the King has called for a Small Council meeting." Jamie replied, standing up straighter as he did so.

"Really?" Tytan queried, his tone incredulous at such a thing. His father had probably attended maybe three Small Council meetings in the seventeen years he had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and in that time he had never been the one to call for a meeting to take place.

"Yes, I was told that it was an urgent matter that required all the Small Council members." Jamie replied, just as in the dark as Tytan as he was merely passing on the message.

"Right then, now you've got me curious, I'll be sure to head there straight away." Tytan said before he left the room and began to make his way towards the Council Chambers, pausing only long enough to tell Arthur to stay on the door and see to it that Alyssa got back to her families manse both safely and discreetly.

Normally he would have seen to the girl getting back to her manse himself, before heading to the training yard. But a summons from his father, even if he didn't like him was not something he could or would ignore. Plus he was also very curious about what this urgent matter was, and why it had forced his father to call for a meeting, let alone attend said meeting in person.

It was with that thought in mind that Tytan and Jamie both strode through the hallways, heading for the Small Council Chambers. The two of them making swiftly progress as servants stepped aside and Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen made way for them, giving the Crown Prince respectful bows as he passed. Tytan responding with a short and simple greeting, one which was appreciated all the same, as most nobles didn't bother.

It was barely ten minutes later that Tytan entered the room, throwing the door open as he confidently strode in, Jamie moving to the side and standing besides Ser Barristan Selmy, his father's usual protector as he did so. The older man barely managing to constrain an eye roll at his nephews theatrics.

Upon reaching the Small Council table though, Tytan's expression tightened as he saw he was one of the last to arrive, and that he his father was sitting in Tytan's usual seat, a look of barely contained rage on the King's chubby face. His meaty hands currently clenched into fists as he sat at the table, an impatient look on his face.

"Good you're finally here!" Robert grunted, his expression irritable.

"A chair please." Tytan replied, looking to a nearby boy, the King's cupbearer Lancel Lannister. Who at the Prince's words jumped a little bit before he put down his jug of wine and dragged another chair over to the table, the one that Stannis usually sat at but which had since been moved to the side of the room due to his prolonged absence.

Sitting down on the chair, and nodding to Lancel, his second cousin, or something like that, Tytan then looked around at the rest of the table noticing as he did so that the other Councilors all looked quite tense.

Varys's expression was quite tight as he unconsciously tapped the table with his fingers, occasionally sending Robert uncomfortable glances. Renly was also there, his expression slightly pale as he kept sending nervous glances at the thunderous expression on his older brother's face. Even Pycelle and Littlefinger looked nervous as they both seemed to quail whenever Robert's dark expression moved on to them.

Looking around the room Tytan then noticed that the Hand was not here, and that Robert must be waiting for Ned Stark to arrive before he began the meeting and talked about whatever it was that was pissing him off so much.

The next few minutes of waiting that followed, were some of the most uncomfortable Tytan had had in years, or at least since he had escaped Tartarus. As the misery of the Pit somewhat topped a bit of awkwardness. Still though, he was quite thankful when he heard the distant sounds of footfalls, followed by the door to the Chamber once again opening as Ned Stark the Hand of the King finally made his presence known.

Upon arriving in the room, Ned just like the other occupants seemed to quickly pick up on the tension in the room. Which is why he gave a short bow to the King and quickly made his way towards the table where all the other Councilors were sat waiting.

"My Lords, my King" Ned said slowly as he neared the table, and then took his seat, the one directly opposite Robert and just next to Tytan's. "If I may ask what is the reason behind this sudden meeting?"

"The whore is pregnant." The King barked out in answer, spittle spraying out of his mouth in his anger as he slammed his fist down onto the table top, as if to enunciate his point.

"Whore?" Tytan asked dryly, with him being the only one at the table not to flinch back at the King's rage, with even the stoic Ned Stark showing a slight amount of discomfort.

"The Targaryen bitch!" Robert snarled as he turned his piggy eyes to Tytan.

"Ahh, thanks for clearing that up." Tytan replied easily, getting a grunt from his father in reply.

"I warned you Ned." Robert suddenly shouted, ignoring Tytan now as he instead glared at his longtime friend, referencing a conversation they had had months ago when they had been travelling down the King's Road. One in which they discussed the upcoming marriage between Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo, a Dothraki Horse Lord, "I warned you back in the barrow lands that something like this would happen, but you didn't want to hear about it. Well, you'll hear it now, I want them dead, all of them, mother, child, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you?!"

Tytan rolled his eyes at that, it appeared Robert was crueler and stupider than he had ever realised. Killing the two older Targaryen's Tytan could understand, they threatened the safety of the realm and could incite rebellion if they stepped foot on Westeros. It may not be pleasant but Tytan could understand it and agree with it.

But killing a child, a baby, that was something he would never condone, and he knew it would cause a lot of damage to the Crown if word of it got out. People could except a lot of shit, but the killing of a child, was something that would disgust most everybody. Babies were as innocent as a human could be, to kill one, well that was one of the vilest of crimes.

Looking to the Hand, Tytan could see Ned's eyes look at the rest of the Councilor trying to gage their reactions. The expression on his face instantly telling Tytan that the Hand agreed with him, at least as far as killing the unborn baby.

"Robert, you can't be serious about this?" Ned spoke up, the faintest hint of horror in his words as he looked at his old friend in shock, "You are talking about killing a child. You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this!"

"Then let the dishonour hang on my head then. I am not so blind to notice that there is a shadow of an axe hanging over my neck." Robert bellowed back, the fat King not caring one jot about his honour. After all, as King he could just demand that history be rewritten to suit him.

Ned bit his lip as he heard that, his expression tense and pale, "Where exactly did this information come from?"

Tytan narrowed his eyes as he heard that, his gaze moving to Littlefinger, only to dismiss that thought as he had had the man on lockdown since he had returned from Winterfell and had already usurped his spy network. With Baelish being restricted to his personal chambers other than for Council meetings when he was taken directly there and then back to his rooms. In fact it was reaching a point where Tytan was tempted to just dispose of the man, after all his only use now was his vote on the Council, what with Tytan stopping him from even sending or receiving Ravens now.

That of course meant that the only other person who could have found this out was Varys, the Master of Whispers, the King's spymaster and the only man on the Council that Tytan hadn't managed to get a read on yet. Though he did suspect that Varys was assisting Ned Stark in his questioning over the death of Jon Arryn.

In fact just the other day he had received a report that the Hand had visited one of Tytan's brothels, and had spoken to one of the girls, one who had given birth to one of the King's Bastards. Much to Tytan's displeasure, though he did intend to look after the girl and her son. After all the child maybe a Bastard but she was also Tytan's sister, and as such he would protect her as best as he could. That being said he didn't like it when other people messed around in his family's business, especially Ned Stark, a man Tytan only just tolerated.

He wasn't proven wrong either, because a few moments later the bald, pale skinned man gave the Hand an unctuous smile, "I'm afraid that would be me Lord Hand." Varys said, his powdered hands wringing together, "And I would not bring false information to the Council or lie to the King."

"And how exactly did you come to find this information out, Lord Varys?" Ned asked, his tone curious but quite cold. Obviously Ned knew how much the Spider was helping him, and had begun to see the man in a slightly better light than he would likely have done so normally, however at the same time this was a tense issue and clearly it was getting to the inexperienced Stark.

"From Ser Jorah Mormont, an old associate of yours I believe?" The eunuch replied simply, clasping his hands together in front of him, "He has gotten himself into the position of advisor to the Targaryen's, both the brother, Viserys and the sister, Daenerys."

"You bring us information from a traitor and criminals mouth?" Ned suddenly asked, his tone hardening at the mention of the man he had had exiled for slavery, "How are we supposed to take it as truth?"

If he was unnerved by the look, Varys did not show it as he instead just gave a short bow and responded. Clearly not bothered by Ned's sharp tone, after all this was quite a difficult situation, raised tempers could be forgiven, especially between would be allies.

"Ser Jorah wouldn't even contemplate deceiving me." Varys replied softly and confidently, "Rely on it my Lord. The Targaryen Princess is with child."

Ned did not back down, "So you say. If we are wrong, we do not need to fear. Nor would we need to fear if the child is a girl, or if the birth miscarries or is still. There are many possibilities going forwards, we should not just jump to conclusions and act rashly."

"And what if it's a boy?" The King snapped out, his eyes fixed harshly on his old friend, "What if he is a boy Ned, a boy with a claim to the throne and a horde of Dothraki at his back? What then?"

"The Dothraki fear water. They won't dare cross water that their horses won't drink from." Ned replied swiftly, relying on what little he knew of the Dothraki Horse Lords to answer the King. After all he was not all knowing when it came to the factions in Essos, but he knew the simple well known facts and could use them to his advantage, "I shall fear them the day they teach their horses how to run on water."

Robert paused as he heard that, his expression still dark and getting darker, "So you tell me to do nothing until that damned dragon spawn lands on my shore with an army of Dothraki screamers at its back?" The King finally snarled, leaning back in his chair a look of disbelief and disgust on his face, "What kind of damned counsel is that?"

"The child is still within its mother's belly." Ned snapped back, the usually icy cold Stark beginning to lose his temper now, "Even Aegon the Conqueror did not conquer anything until he was weaned."

In response to that, Robert slammed his fist onto the table in rage, "By the Gods! Have you all lost your tongues!? Will no-one talk sense into this fool!?" Robert snapped out his angry blue eyes roving around the table of quiet Councilors as he did so.

"This matter seems simple enough to me. We ought to have killed both Targaryens years ago, It may be unpleasant but for the good of the realm it has to be done." Renly spoke out, his tone low as he looked around the table.

"I understand where you are coming from my Lord, but sometimes those in power must do vile things for the good of the realm." Varys spoke up softly, a note of sadness in his voice, though whether that was genuine or not was up for debate.

"My order serves the realm, not the King. Despite that though I have faithfully provided sound counsel to the previous King and the current King, yet I ask you this, if war were to come to these lands again, how many thousands will die? How many mothers will be ripped away from their sons only to find themselves at the ends of spear points? How many towns will burn? How many of our women will be raped by these savages?" Pycelle sighed at that, ignoring the incredulous expression some members of the Council threw him after he proclaimed his loyalty to the two previous King's, "It is wiser to end a single life now, than let thousands more perish in the future."

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," Littlefinger spoke up, a twisted expression on his face as he looked around the room, "You should just close your eyes and continue, cut her throat and be done with it."

"Ironic considering you've never been with a woman before Littlefinger." Tytan spoke up dryly, making his presence known as the rest of the room looked at him, Renly stifling a slight smile at Tytan's comment about the now scowling Baelish.

"And do you have an actual opinion boy?" Robert asked irritably as he looked at his eldest son, for once not amused by the man's sharp tongue and quick wit.

Tytan regarded him coolly as he heard that, before he shrugged lightly, "Frankly I have no qualms about killing the brother or the sister, as long as it was done subtly and wouldn't get back to us, which is questionable in itself. The death of a baby though, even an unborn one though is completely reprehensible."

"A rather contradictory statement my Prince." Varys said softly.

"Indeed, but this is a very complicated situation, which is why it needs to be thought out. So far I can see benefits to ending the threat now before it becomes too strong. On the other hand though I can see an assassination attempt backfiring."

Robert scowled as he heard that, but didn't immediately shout his son down, "Speak plainly Tytan, enough of your riddles?"

"If the baby turns out to be a son, then we will have to take actions sooner rather than later, even if it does come down to assassination later on when the child is grown, I believe it is still possible through the use of the faceless man, as expensive as they may be." Tytan said, ignoring the silence as he spoke his thoughts to the room. "If it is a boy we can take action later on and kill him off before he becomes a man. It will cost the Kingdom a lot of coin, but such is the case when you want a job done properly."

"If it is a girl though, then we have more time." Tytan replied, still thinking over the options and the ideas that were accruing to him. "Furthermore the child's blood will be diluted and her children's claim on the throne will be tenuous at best. So much so that I doubt even the staunchest of Targaryen supporters would get behind them, not unless their victory was clear cut." Tytan continued. "If we also later kill off the brother and sister quietly the child won't have any siblings and the Targaryen name will die, and that will be an end to our problems."

"If we try to assassinate Daenerys Targaryen now though, and we fail, the Khal will be enraged and will likely turn all his attention to getting vengeance on us. Similarly if we succeed, all it would take is a few poisonous words in the Khal's ear and we will have a Dothraki horde baying for our blood." Tytan said as he looked around the room. "Whether we like it or not the Dothraki will probably come for us, I very much doubt the Targaryen's got this far on their own. They likely have supporters, ones who have back up plans in place in case we make a move on the child."

"That being said I think for the moment our focus shouldn't be on killing off the Targaryen's, not yet. Maybe in a few years when the Khal is bored of the girl we can come back to the issue, but for now I see no point in attempt an assassination, especially since it would likely only goad the Dothraki into attacking more quickly." Tytan continued as he looked around the room, still trying to sort out his own thoughts on the issue and using the Small Council as a sounding board of sorts.

"That's why instead of assassination we should prepare plans for when they do come for us. We should bulk up the navy, make preparations to sabotage the Dothraki's ships, send our agents to Essos and stir up trouble for them." Tytan continued. "And that's not even mentioning the logistics of transporting thousands of men and horse across the sea. Half of them will likely die before they get here, either because of the storms, or through dehydration. Then when we do get here we will be waiting with a host of the Kingdom's finest at our backs, ready to butcher them on the beaches."

Robert grunted loudly at that. "So what you mean to say is we do nothing?"

"For now we wait and plan, we prepare plans to disrupt their activities. We send agents to stir up war between the different Khalasars in Essos, and if needs be we contact the faceless men and order a few deaths." Tytan continued. "There are many options open for us going forwards, for now I don't think we should be making any rash decisions."

"Those are some very vague plans?" Renly said blandly, an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he looked over to his nephew.

"Well we are facing some very vague threats." Tytan replied dryly.

"These plots are all well and good, but this can all be circumvented if we kill her now." Renly replied bluntly, obviously he was still a little pissed about how Tytan had beaten down Renly's boy toy, Loras Tyrell.

"Unlikely." Tytan replied instantly, a slight frown on his face at his Uncle's challenge, "Just look at our own history, my father rebelled against the Targaryen's and overthrew them all over a girl. As I said before the Horse Lord's reaction will be just as volatile if we kill his pregnant wife. For now we should set about less risky ways of neutralizing the threat, besides it would likely be easier if we just kill off the Khal. Once we do that his entire Khalasar will begin infighting due to the power vacuum left behind by Drogo's death."

"Which of course is just as risky as assassinating the Targaryen girl." Varys chipped in, surprisingly voicing his support for Tytan's vague plans for the future. Something which instantly made the Prince suspicious.

Robert grunted at that, still unhappy, but slightly mollified by Tytan's words. "Varys see to it that you begin making trouble for the Targaryens."

Varys nodded at that.

"And Ned, you and Tytan will see to plans for the Kingdom's defenses!" The King then commanded. "Tytan you can take over the responsibilities of the Master of Ships for now."

Tytan nodded at that, his mind already pondering over what he would implement. After all the King's instructions were pretty open ended and gave Tytan a lot of scope with which to work. Already he could think of a number of cunning ideas. Some of which he pulled straight from the history lessons he had been forced to learn when he had gone by the name Percy.

"That being said, Varys I want you to find out more about the girl and her protections. Plan out a potential assassination but don't implement it yet, not unless I order you to." Robert suddenly added, his gaze shifting round the table.

Tytan grunted at that, but didn't speak out against it. After all he done as much as he could to convince his father, what was currently decided would do for now.

Ned Stark however stood up as he heard that. "I will make plans for war, but I will not be a part of murdering a child!"

"You'll do what I damn well tell you to do!" Robert snapped back, his expression darkening as he glared up at his old friend. "If not you can get out and begin overseeing the Kingdom's defenses, your still the Hand and still have duties, if you don't have the balls to do what may be necessary then leave it to those of us who can!"

"I thought you were a better man." Ned replied bluntly, before he turned and stalked away.

"Gods damn the Stark and their sense of honour!" Robert growled, before he looked to Varys. "See to the arrangements."

Varys nodded his head at that.

"And you go help Ned!" Robert snapped out as he looked at Tytan. "I'm going hunting!"

"My King." Tytan replied sarcastically as he too stood up, before he gave a short bow and left the room.

( - )

(In Essos)

Daenerys idly rested her hands on the slight lump on her stomach, a strange expression on her face as she looked down and felt the physical proof of the child growing within her. It was strange, she had never imagined her life turning out this way, nor did she think her first child would be fathered by a Dothraki Horse Lord.

Still for perhaps the first time in years Daenerys would say she was content, not happy it would take her a lot longer to get used to the roughness of living with Dothraki, but at the very least she felt content with her situation for now. Sure it wasn't what she had dreamed of as a young girl, but it was better than living hand to mouth as she and her brother went from palace to palace, begging for sanctuary and assistance in retaking their birth right.

Letting out a faint sigh, Daenerys was soon distracted from her musings as she heard a commotion coming from near the entrance to her tent.

Turning around with a curious and disgruntled expression on her face, she could only watch as her brother, Viserys, dragged one of her handmaidens into his sister's tent by her hair. Viserys obviously ignoring the younger Dothraki girl's screams and protests as he just violently dragged her into the tent, before carelessly throwing her at Daenerys feet.

"You send this whore to give me commands?! I should have sent you back her head!" Viserys snarled, his face contorted in anger and a bit of spittle flying from his mouth as he marched up to Daenerys.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi." The young girl muttered, fearful that she might have brought down the brother's wrath on the sister.

"Hush now, it's alright. Take her and leave us." Daenerys replied softly, crouching down and helping the scared servant up, before she turned to one of her other maids, a girl from Lys, who at the Princess's word took hold of the other girl and quickly left the tent, helping the scared servant out as she did so. "Why did you hit her?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? You do not command me!" Viserys replied, his mind still consumed with anger and outrage over his sister's assumptions, among other things.

"I wasn't commanding you. I just wanted to invite you to have supper with me." Daenerys replied softly, still uncertain as she just felt like quailing under her brother's furious gaze.

"What's this then?" Viserys spat, raising his fist as he did so and showing the screwed up leather clothing in his hand to his sister.

"It's a gift, I had it made for you." Daenerys replied, taking a step back as she did so.

"Dothraki rags, you're going to dress me now. It stinks of piss and shit! All of it!" Viserys yelled in frustration, a vein now very prominent on his forehead as he proceeded to throw the clothes and the accompanying golden necklace at her, ignoring his sister's condition.

"Stop, Stop it!" Daenerys shouted loudly, her eyes wide as she back away from her borderline deranged brother.

"You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? What? I guess next you'll want to braid my hair like them." Viserys spat as he began to furiously pace back and forth.

"You've no right to a braid, you've won no victories yet." Daenerys shot back, startling herself as she did so.

"You do not talk back to me!" Viserys snarled back as he stalked up to his young sister and proceeded to slap her across the face, hard. So hard in fact that he knocked her to the ground. Not that he particularly cared at the moment, as he instead proceeded to get on top of her and hit her again. "You are a Horse Lord's slut, and now you've awoken the Dragon!"

In response to this Daenerys grabbed the gold necklace he'd previously thrown at her, and which was now just lying on the ground, which she then proceeded to use like a flail. Whipping it up and at her brother as she did so, and hitting him in the face with it, knocking him on to one side. Making him let out a shrill squeal of pain as she did so.

Glaring now, Daenerys used the distraction as an opportunity to get up, before she then looked down on her older brother angrily. "I am the 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." She then threatened, feeling a lot more confident than she ever had before as she saw the bloody cuts on her brother's face and the fearful glance he sent at her.

A few moments later Viserys left, sending only a single hateful expression at his sister as he did so, before he fled the tent. Running past the startled Jorah Mormont as he did so, who at that moment had just been entering the tent to see what all of the commotion was about.

"I hit him, I hit the Dragon." Daenerys muttered, a shell-shocked expression on her face as she looked to Jorah, her heart still beating faster than normal after the confrontation.

"Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon. Viserys is little more than a shadow of your brother and the former Targaryen Kings." Jorah replied abruptly, walking over to the young girl's side as he did so.

"He is still the true King." Daenerys replied softly, a hint of regret entering her voice as she thought back on her actions.

"Truth now. Do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?" Jorah suddenly asked, the older man having already come to his own conclusions on the two Targaryen siblings and which one of them he would rather sit on the Iron Throne.

"No. But the common people are waiting for him. Illyrio said they are sewing dragon banners in secret and awaiting for his return." Daenerys replied, looking to Jorah as she did so, hoping for the older man to confirm what Illyrio had told the two siblings.

"The common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends. They don't care what games the high Lords play." Jorah replied bluntly, knowing as he did that most commoners were content enough under the Baratheon rule and wouldn't want the status quo to be interrupted or war to once again come to the land. Not that he was about to tell this young girl that.

"And what do you pray for, Ser Jorah?" Daenerys asked curiously as she digested what the man had previously said.

"Home." Jorah replied simply.

"I pray for home too. My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms or the Iron Throne. He couldn't lead an army even if my husband gave him one. With him leading we'll never be able to go home." Daenerys replied softly as she looked away from Jorah and instead at the three petrified dragon eggs she had received from Illyrio Mopatis a few months ago as a wedding present.

( - )

(The Wall)

Jon Snow scowled as he looked out over the Wall, pulling his black, fur cloak tighter around his shoulders as he glared down the barren land below, a cold, icy tundra that spread out as far as the eye could see. Letting out a loud sigh, his breath turned to mist as it erupted from his mouth only to disperse in the freezing air.

For most this view he was looking on would be considered beautiful, and it was the first time he had seen it. That though had been a number of months ago now, back when Jon had first joined the Night's Watch, full of enthusiasm at becoming a member of the noble brotherhood that protected the lands of the south from the Wildling's beyond the Wall. Now though Jon just looked out on the land beyond the Wall grimly, a scowl on his face as he felt the icy cold wind blowing against his face.

At the time it had all sounded so fantastical, a way he could serve the realm and win himself recognition and honour, despite him being a bastard. It had taken him only half of his first day with the Night's Watch to disabuse him of that notion.

The Night's Watch in the end, it wasn't how he had expected it to be. The men he now called his brothers were thieves, murderers and rapers. Very few of the men here, were here by choice, which made everything even more uncomfortable. Especially for Jon, not just because he was a Bastard though, but because he was a Bastard who had been born and raised in Winterfell and had benefited from that in both his education, martial and otherwise.

Suffice to say he was not popular with some of his brothers, nor with some of the older members of the Watch. This of course wasn't helped by the first impression he gave people when he arrived all those months ago, when he had beaten down many of his brother's in the sparring ring, ignorant of the fact that all he was doing was gaining their distain.

In fact it had only been after Lord Tyrion Lannister had told him that he realised what he had done, the little Lord having made quite an impression on Jon with his dry wit and his nonchalance when it came to Bastards, unfortunately though Tyrion had left the Wall and gone back down south. Thankfully though, Jon had managed to mend some bridges with some of his brothers, and had even made a good group of what he would probably call friends.

Turning around and looking down, Jon looked at the busy form of Castle Black. From up here he could see the entire castle, and could even see the wooden scaffolding and workmen fixing up some of the broken towers and run down walls.

Apparently just a few years ago there had been less than a thousand men in the Night's Watch, barely enough to man three of the castles that were built along the Wall. Looking down now though, Jon could see that there were almost that many men that manned Castle Black alone. This, he had been told, was all due to the Crown Prince, Tytan Baratheon.

When he had met the Crown Prince in Winterfell, Jon hadn't been all that impressed. Sure he was good-looking, a skilled swordsman and blessed with unnatural abilities, but he was also irresponsible and arrogant. Or at least that was what Jon had thought when he had seen the Prince cavorting with whores and drinking with his men.

Now though, he was beginning to think differently. After all in the last couple of years the Prince had sent more than two thousand men to the Wall. Most of these men were criminals, men who the Goldcloaks had captured and who the Prince had dealt out justice too. Much to these men's shock as usually they were able to pay off the Goldcloaks, or at least that was what they had said was the case before the Prince took an active role in the Kingdom.

More than that though, the Prince was responsible for the capture and castration of Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides. A hulking beast of a man who the Prince had had arrested, and sent to the Wall for his horrendous crimes. Similarly the Prince had also had the man's men arrested and sent to the Wall, after having them all gelded of course.

Jon had actually seen the Mountain around, as he resided in Castle Black, or at least he occasionally did as the man was one of the Rangers and often went beyond the Wall with scouting parties so he could release his pent up fury on any Wildling stupid enough to confront him.

Scowling at that thought, Jon turned away from Castle Black and instead looked back out at the land beyond the Wall. He had wanted to be a Ranger, the same job his Uncle Benjen had hade before he went missing some months back. Unfortunately though he had been made one of the Stewards.

One of the ones who stayed within Castle Black and saw to the cooking and cleaning, a position he hated, even if his friend Samwell Tarley claimed, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander, had given him the position so he could train Jon up to be his successor. For Jon though it was an insult, one which only made his time at the Wall even more unpleasant, especially since it meant he would likely never get the opportunity to go beyond the Wall and search for his missing Uncle.

Letting out another sigh, Jon prepared to begin his patrol, walking along the Wall to check on the other sentry posts. As he stood up though, he was very nearly sent flying off of the top of the Wall when a golden brown blur shot past him. The suddenness of its appearance making him jump backwards and almost slip over, his hand instantly resting on his hilt as he stared after the flying object. His grey eyes narrowing as he saw that it looked to be a golden brown hawk.

"Bloody bird." Jon muttered, a scowl on his face as he looked away from the distant silhouette of the bird as it flew past the wall and down south. With that said Jon let out another sigh and got back to his patrol, hoping to get it over and done with.

Hopefully something interesting would happen sooner or later.

( - )

Winging its way through the sky, the golden brown hawk continued its flight, riding the air currents as it flew south. Blinking its sharp golden eyes, the bird began to descend, happy that it had now gotten passed the massive, five hundred feet high ice wall that crossed the width of the continent

Coming to a stop on the thick branch of a tree, the bird gazed around at its surroundings, its sharp eyes seeing all as it surveyed the area before a few moments later it began to change shape. Its body getting larger and more humanoid, even as its feathers retracted back into its skin.

Within moments the hawk had been replaced by the lithe figure of a girl, one who had dark skin, bronze coloured hair, pointed ears, elegantly angled features and striking golden eyes. At a first glance the girl looked quite young, standing at under four and a half feet tall, with a thin yet strong body.

However on closer look her golden eyes looked too old, and her features were too flawless, inhumanely so. If a man were to look upon her they would be entranced by her unearthly beauty, the kind that many men would happily go to war over.

Not that she cared, as for the longest time humans had held no interest to her, or her kind, the other Children of the Land as humans called them.

Humans in her mind were a distasteful species, an arrogant one too, one which stole and killed from their own kin if it benefited them.

Now though, now something had gained her interest. It had started several weeks ago when she had been in the far north with her brothers and sisters. At the time she had been holding court, deciding with her fellows what to do as the foul creatures, the white skinned demons, had begun to awaken and grow in power. When she had suddenly felt and unfamiliar presence, one that she had sensed again later, as she had had the inexplicable feeling of something watching her.

What followed next were dreams, dreams of a dark haired human, but one unlike any she had ever heard of before, one who was older, wiser and more powerful than any human she had seen or met.

It had intrigued her, so much so that she had decided to investigate, which of course meant she would need to travel south, for she could feel through her connection to nature where the man was. Not that that was a problem, the Wall of ice may protect the realms south from the land north, but the protections both magical and physical did nothing to inhibit her passing. The Children after all had helped in the construction of the Wall, she herself had actually been there at the time, eight thousand years ago, and had helped her kin weave the protective magic that they had then imbued into the Wall.

Taking a deep breath, the slightest of frowns marred the girl's face as she felt the power of nature flowing through her. The magic of this land seemed weaker than she remembered, diluted almost. It was a strange feeling, but not a problem, as long as she retained her connection to nature she would never be powerless.

Shifting delicately on the branch, Leaf, for that was her name in the tongue of men, once again shifted into the form of a hawk. With this form being a useful one, as it allowed her to soar high above humans and their settlements, and travel vast swathes of land with ease.

Soon enough she would find this mysterious man, and then she could try to work out just what it was that made him so different, so inhuman.