One Who is Many - [Worm / Game of Thrones]

[Aeselon]

Putting on my tinfoil hat here: Ophelia isn't Oberyn's bastard. She's Rhaenys. Because we still don't know who her mother was, and there's been oblique references to that being important.

 

[Ketzer]

What do you mean by taylorfick?

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Fanfiction with Taylor as the main character. Too many people like to write this, especially graphomaniacs. Usually they are not of the best quality, and Taylor is just not declared SI.

 

[stads]

interesting to see thats where QA ending up
of was if just bran trying to warg QA that still has a connection somewhat to taylor ?

 

[Yupthisisforporn]

Fanfiction with Taylor as the main character. Too many people like to write this, especially graphomaniacs. Usually they are not of the best quality, and Taylor is just not declared SI.

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Ah, thanks. But yeah, this definitely isn't an SI, lol. So hopefully you keep digging it.

 

[Broodlord]

Putting on my tinfoil hat here: Ophelia isn't Oberyn's bastard. She's Rhaenys. Because we still don't know who her mother was, and there's been oblique references to that being important.

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I think Scrim said somewhere who exactly her mother was and it is a plot point for later, would have to go trawling through SB to figure out where exactly it was.

 

[Ljapaubeaves]

Putting on my tinfoil hat here

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Yeah, not quite.
I wrote an omake over on SB and was corrected by the generous authors that Ellaria was not in fact Ophelia's mother but another unnamed woman who expired shortly after childbirth due to unsanitary circumstances during said birth.

 

[Scrimshaw_NSFW]

Putting on my tinfoil hat here: Ophelia isn't Oberyn's bastard. She's Rhaenys. Because we still don't know who her mother was, and there's been oblique references to that being important.

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Ophelia's mother was important because of what she was, not who she was. But we'll post the informational soon.

Aw, Cersei really does care about her. So that is where QA ended up, no idea why it's trying to interface with Bran but it looks like QA didn't completely escape the bullet surgery Taylor got, maybe it's just hijacking any connection it can do to the damage it took?

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QA was, quite literally, doing the equivalent of holding up a missing cat poster and asking if you'd seen her pet.

Yeah, not quite. I wrote an omake over on SB and was corrected by the generous authors that Ellaria was not in fact Ophelia's mother but another unnamed woman who expired shortly after childbirth due to unsanitary circumstances during said birth.

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It was a wonderful omake indeed~

Aw, Cersei really does care about her. So that is where QA ended up, no idea why it's trying to interface with Bran but it looks like QA didn't completely escape the bullet surgery Taylor got, maybe it's just hijacking any connection it can do to the damage it took?

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In a way, aye, but she's just a teensy bit possessive. It's more accurate to say this is where QA is now. And there's a reason she's starting where she did.

I feel this is significant, but I'm not sure whether I'm correct when I think her Targaryen blood has awakened, or something along those lines, or not. She did have some watered down dragon blood, right? On another note, what is going on with Bran? I sure have no clue. The only thing I do know is that he really needs to stop trying to scale that damned tower.

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You could say she has "some" dragon blood. We'll be transferring over the informational stuff asap. It's a very nice climbing tower though~

About the dream or about anything?

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About the dream/vision/whatever it was. Suffice to say, Magic is not a 1 to 1 connection to shards.

It also seems like Bran's third eye got opened with even wider and even more brutally than in canon. Didn't require a fall and fever this time though.

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No, but a giant spider eldritch abomination crawling out of a woman's head is still pretty rough.

Whelp, looks like Ophelia needs to have a little chat with Bran.

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A spot of tea in the Godswood, maybe a stroll with the hounds, yes?

Can't wait to see the QA and Taylor reunion. Also, will you ever go into detail about how and why exactly Taylor and QA's powers translate over into ASOIAF-style magic? And what the source of them is?

Well, you say that...

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In story, it's going to be explained why things are the way they are during this arc. If you want the meta explanation we can provide that too, especially since that won't be elaborated on for... probably IRL years in story.

All hail Darth Tyene!

 

[Scrimshaw_NSFW]

Word of God Statements

Year Date as of Chapter 1: 297 After Conquest (AC)

Spoiler: Changes to Dorne and Clarification of Ophelia's Impact

The largest and most significant change, as has been elucidated upon, is the triple Martel-Tyrel-Baratheon alliance. Arianne is to marry Willas Tyrell with the full consent of all parties involved. Yes, this means exactly what you think it does regarding the plan focused on Viserys. Garlan and Loras are both active agents of House Tyrell as in canon and remain unmarried as of this point in time. Loras is already attached to Renly and is... as infatuated with him as canon, possibly as infatuated as he was in the semi canon source. This forms the political backbone of a new power block in the south. I.E. loose, untested, but rapidly solidifying.

Dorne itself has only benefited somewhat. Doran, while quite happy to indulge Ophelia so long as she remains an asset to the family, has requested she hold back on any truly revolutionary inventions until Dorne itself is secure against outside influence. Things such as a modified wine press into a type setting machine, crude solar desalination plants for salt harvesting and water reclamation, and certain other technologies either exist but are HIGHLY secured inside Ophelia's personal workshop (I.E. guarded by both swarms of dangerous animals and squads of highly trained men) or exist only in notes and prototypes. Sunspear and the Shadow City itself is much, much more important, however. Not only has Doran been able to remain in his seat of power, thereby exercising a greater degree of influence over his own holdings, but Ophelia's nature as a witch and a prodigy has attracted both sorcerers and learned men from across the known world.

There is a strong contingent of Maesters - loyal to Oldtown - that have both served as tutors and set up their own practices inside the city, but also a small contingent of shadow binders (a VERY small number of them), hedge witches, healers, wise men, and professionals of any and every field that Oberyn could beg, bribe, or borrow access to. It would be accurate to say it is the most intellectually diverse center of learning in the world, but poorly organized and not the largest. To that end, Doran has plans to do that once he has the coin, leverage, and room to do so.

This has caused something of a minor economic boom all of its own, but increased trade is hampered by increased piracy. Something he has actively been taking steps to curtail (something only obliquely mentioned in the first chapter). To that end, Ophelia now exports many, MANY, MANY forms of silk. Every natural color, ranging from gold to blue, from spiders, wasps, silk worms, caterpillars, and more. She has bred species specifically for this and exports totally unique luxury resources. Doran has, though Ophelia is only very minimally aware of this, had people tortured and murdered for trying to steal from Ophelia. Brutally. It was not pretty. You do not want details. The prices she can charge for this is insane and a custom made silk dress (literal woven to be a single, un broken piece of flawless cloth) can be sold for more than fifty times its weight in silver (or more) depending on the level of intricacy of the design, patterns, and level of effort put into it. Her silk farms continue mostly on auto pilot, though output has slowed without her presence. Doran, wisely, is tapping into strategic reserves and slowly parceling out the supply to avoid a market crash. Ophelia also has a large menagerie, several (rather crude) greenhouses, and several farms that were under her or Oberyn's direct control. There she experimented with an immense number of plants, animals, and other forms of life (insects in particular) and Doran is actively planning to introduce new staple food sources once his current plans are complete.

The downside is that Dorne was rather poor before all this began, most of the profits have gone into building her zoos and experiments, and large portions of the coin are needed simply for basic upgrades to the city and castle to handle the influx of nexcomers.

Spoiler: Changes to the Martell Family

Arianne, Quentyn, and Trystane do not have their low level conflict. Quentyn is somewhat more confident, though even more desperate to prove himself. Arianne is no longer wary of her father and is also much more trusting of his lead in general (they had a MUCH needed heart to heart), Trystane, bluntly, has a crush on Ophelia though its more of an innocent puppy love. Ophelia never overly minded and finds him a bit silly, if good company (no serious romance, she considers him to be child). Doran was much healthier thanks to Ophelia's potions, though she never managed to fully cure his gout, only combat and manage it. Her potions also sometimes had... side effects. Of the gassy kind.

Oberyn has a baby on the way! A bit early. But there are actually 9.75 Sand Snakes at this point in the time and soon approaching 10! Maybe he'll finally get a son (don't hold your breath, but we might flip a coin). Ellaria is quite happy with this arrangement and is remaining at Sunspear with her two youngest. Doreah and Loreza are too young to have truly hit their personality, but have grown up in a family fully adjusted to the "common sense" of magic being an active force in their lives. Obella is ALMOST old enough to fit the role of dangerous flirt, which she seems to be growing into quite quickly, already slipping quite nicely into her canon personality (if moderately more cunning, as she has to sneak extra hard around her siblings to prank them). Elia is, frankly, spoiled by Ophelia and her father. She's even more insistent about being a Lady Knight than canon and has trained harder too (in case this wasn't clear enough). Sarella was moderately jealous of Ophelia for a long time and a bit confused about why she was so sullen, though she shares a unqiue bond with her younger sister (that we've hinted at) that not even Tyene can boast. Tyene is Tyene. Despite not being shown yet, Nymeria is more or less her canon self, though with even more poisons at her disposal. Obara, out of all of them, is even more protective because of the attention her family garners. As such she is also actually their unquestioned leader in the absence of their father. Without a doubt, if Oberyn is not around, they would quite willingly follow Obara's instructions.

Spoiler: Order of the Sand Snake's Birth and Ages

For convenience, and because GRR Martin never gave us canon ages, Obara (~272 AC), Nymeria (~275 AC), Tyene (~278 AC), Sarella (~281 AC), Ophelia (~283 AC), Elia (~285 AC), Obella (~288 AC), Doreah (~292 AC), Lorezah (~293 AC), Unnamed Child (~Month 7 of pregnancy).

Spoiler: Ophelia's Parentage

Ophelia Sand, the reincarnated form of one Taylor Hebert, was sired by Oberyn Martell - who was roughly 26 at the time - on a Prostitute that lived on Dragonstone. This occurred in, roughly, 283 AC. Ophelia is, as of the first arc, 14 going on 15 or just recently 15 depending on when in the year we place her birth date. Ophelia herself was born on Dragonstone but was soon returned to Sunspear by her father, who gladly raised her.

Ophelia's mother is a prostitute named Rhaella. Rhaella, other than being particularly intelligent and attractive, if on the thin and tall side, had little of note about her otherwise (being a life long prostitute). She was somewhat prone to illness - a fainting sickness that left her cold and she suffered badly in Winter - but was talented enough at her job to excel. She had bright blue and amethyst eyes, particularly fair skin, and black hair (northern by the then young and inexperienced Oberyn's reckoning and he suspected her to be a bastard Stark or Karstark mostly because those were the two houses he remembered the most). However, she had particularly fine Valyrian features in all other ways.

Rhaella's parents were Roose Bolton's father (the Bolt-on theory may or may not be accepted as you like) and a prostitute named Calla. Calla was a whore as well, with white-gold hair, bright amethyst eyes, a fiery temperament, and held the same particularly fine beauty as her daughter (and, before she suffered from her profession, the same extreme beauty as her mother). Her parents were an unnamed bed slave of extreme and purposely bred beauty bought from Lys, of pure Valyrian extraction and a great bastard of a number of Valyrian royal lines, and Maelys the Monstrous. Calla was the sole issue of this... rather violent coupling.

Calla's mother was pregnant when Maelys was slain and captured by the Westerosi. Unwilling to sully his sword with the blood of a pregnant woman, or allow another to slay her, Ser Barristan demanded they take the woman prisoner instead. If Calla had been a boy, the child would have been either exiled or killed, but was born a girl instead. As such, both Calla and her mother were sold to a whorehouse on the island by the Lord Celtigar at the time - as he had been the one who held them in captivity and no lord or knight was permitted to marry either woman. Refusing to kill them, they were, instead, given a... different fate.

Rhaella did not know her lineage, what so ever and thought she was merely another whore born bastard. Calla did not know her true lineage, but knew she was under no circumstances ever to be permitted to learn it.

Ophelia is the bastard daughter of four or five lines of kings and of two princes. This is intentional, explicit, and should be kept in mind going forward.

Spoiler: Ophelia's Relationships

Doran Martell: Originally loved her, as he does all his nieces, before growing deeply, deeply suspicious. To a degree he feared and mistrusted her for a good while. However, over years of interactions, he's come to deeply trust Ophelia. Second only to Oberyn and Areo. Quentyn is actually considered less competent than her by him, even if he does love his son, and that is a big part of why he feared a usurpation. At this point she has, more or less, cart blanche so long as she doesn't endanger the House, the Country, or risk war with a foreign power.

Arianne Martell: Originally she didn't think much of Ophelia, considering her one more of her uncle's children. When her intelligence and powers became clear she was rather jealous of those abilities. But it was when Tyene transferred her obsession to Ophelia instead of her that she began to fear the girl. While she does trust her cousin, she is deeply concerned by the fact she grows more powerful, more vital to Dorne, and more learned with every day. To that end she fears what Ophelia will one day ask in payment for her assistance. However, recently that has begun to change as Ophelia vocally supported her cousin's marriage with Willas the first time around (when she eloped) and even helped distract the guards sent after her for a time by having their horses refuse to run. This forced the men to travel into town to acquire more and was actually one of the few times Ophelia was actually punished by her father.

Quentyn Martell: He's somewhat intimidated by his cousin, especially as she helped tutor him in his studies once he finally returned home, but is genuinely appreciative of her. He also doesn't fear her possibly usurping the throne as he genuinely believes she's destined for greater things. Their interactions are, however, somewhat limited as Quentyn was fostered elsewhere, though Ophelia has done what she can to boost his confidence, knowing that her own success has put an even heavier burden on him to succeed.

Trystane Martell: Trystane is utterly infatuated with her, having a deep, deep crush on his cousin. More than once he's broached the topic of marrying her one day with both his father and uncle, though Ophelia, because of her inherited age, considers this to be mere puppy love and has politely declined. To that end, he's taken them well and isn't pushy about things, though he has actually learned how to play the flute (rather well) just to impress her. It could be said that Ophelia views him more as a good friend that she wants to mature into a fine young man than a potential marriage partner. She has, once, sicked Nymeria on him to try and play matchmaker (without Tyene's games) and this almost worked - only being failing when the young woman in question got too eager and Trystane had to flee to preserve his honor.

Marissa: She was her wetnurse, maid, and is the closest thing Ophelia has to a mother. While Marissa has no real power or influence, Ophelia would genuinely listen to her and take her advice. While intelligent, she was a whore and lacks much in the way of a formal education. This tends to limit her to good, common sense advice and helping Ophelia sort through her emotions.

Areo Hotah: Surprisingly hit and miss. While he does not dislike her, his goal is to protect Doran and his direct line. To that end he considers Ophelia the one person most likely to be able to usurp the throne of House Martell. While they're polite and respectful to one another, he's taken as many precautions as he possibly could to ensure that her magical reach inside the court is limited to public areas and has even gone out of his way to prepare a number of magical countermeasures. Though, it should be noted, he has not tested any of them on her and would defend her to the death if she was attacked.

Oberyn Martell (Father): She is close to her father, who knows, roughly, the exact specifics of her powers. She trusts him enough to share recent developments with him but also does not feel pressured to come running if something happens. To that end, he is as engaged with her as she wants him to be. Meaning, mostly, he spoils the girl, does everything he can to indulge her whims, and treats her like the rest of his daughters. Who, infamously, are known for having him wrapped around their finger.

Ellaria Sand (Step Mother): The two are close, but not particularly so. Ellaria is close enough to be counted as family, but they are mostly on friendly terms. She was also the one who helped educate Ophelia on female courtly manners, though Ophelia balked when offered to be taught how to seduce a man and wrap him around your finger. Ellaria generally considers Ophelia somewhat scary, but a good person at heart. She worries what might happen if Ophelia is pushed too far by an enemy, but freely admits she'd likely by right beside the girl should something happen to Oberyn or one of her girls (which includes her non blood children too).

Spoiler: Colors of Silk Ophelia Can Produce

Worm Silk: Gold, Brown, Pink, Red, Black, Blue, Yellow, White, Orange, and shades of such based on diet and proportions. Wasp Silk: Gold, White, Yellow. Spider Silk: Theoretically any color given time and breeding due to chemical makeup of spider silk. As of right now, primary colors are: White, Black, Orange, Red, Gold, Yellow. Silk can be iridescent and non iridescent.

Certain colors and shades can be either EXTREMELY hard to produce or resource intensive. Red/Orange/Yellow silk requires extremely specialized diets to produce even small amounts. Gold requires specialized breeding programs or species. White is easiest and most consistent, Gold follows (once breeding populations are established for farming), and all other colors fall somewhere between these and the ROY colorations.

Spoiler: Ophelia's Business Dealings

Ophelia herself doesn't actually usually deal with the money side of things. Rather, her farms produce a certain quantity of goods, these fabrics are then checked and weighed, and Doran and his Castellan oversees the sale (at auction) of each unit of cloth. Right now they're going the diamond route - forced scarcity. He maintains a rigid control over the supply and is slowly selling it at market prices as demand for it grows. At this point in time, it is known as "Dornish Silk" of various grades. These grades tell you what kind of creature produced it and whether its better for reinforcing armor or clothes. Ophelia herself has made clothes and garments for her family (and Marissa) as gifts, but rather rarely does custom pieces for sale. At the moment we'd say there are maybe thirty complete garments made by her swarm out there.

To that end, many knights HAVE had their arming coats reinforced with particularly strong spider silk, though whole gambesons made of it are extremely rare and produced by people other than Ophelia. While not as valuable as Valyrian Steel, it's about as rare as right now, both because of a stringently controlled supply and a small production base.

Her potions, however, are more well known. Ophelia directly produces certain batches upon request and rarely bulk batches for export. Mostly she deals with venoms, antivenin, and poisons derived from plants and animals rather than chemicals, diseases, or magic. She also much prefers to produce medical products over things that are lethal, such as her paralytic. Additionally, she is also working on other - here to less successful - projects related to a mild narcotic that can work to purge the system of addictions, a truth serum, and treatments for heartburn, gout, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and stroke.

I think that about covers everything. We'll update this when/if we make more WoG statements. If we missed anything or anything needs extra clarification, let us know!

 

[masterofmadness]

Chapter 12 review​

Okay everybody new chapter new review! Hope you enjoy.

When she came to, the first thing Ophelia did was flex her fingers around the egg she could feel at her side - right under the fingers of the one hand she had under the covers and nestled up against her leg.

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Ophelia: I've only had him for a day but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

"Should we let the others know she's up?"

Her sister, blessed be her heart, shot the squire down.

"She's still recovering. Try and find Marwyn, or the other Maester. They should come see her first."

The young man behind her sister, Lancel, shuffled awkwardly before murmuring in agreement, clearly uncomfortable with seeing the so far invincible witch of Dorne bound to a sick bed like a common girl.

He left the room silently, the fact that his sword was at his waist and that he was wearing his full armor too.

"Lancel… did…."

Lips twitching, her sister nodded.

"Sat up all night. Watching over you when I needed to use the restroom. I don't think he moved from his post to so much as twitch, once he had his armor on."

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Well well Lancel! That is a very nice move on your part! I knew that the fact Ophelia is the only person in a long time to go out of her way to treat him with respect would pay off. Sha has got herself a loyal little knight to be if nothing else.

It took a few tries for Ophelia to fully form the words, but the pleasant numbness in the drink made everything bearable for the moment.

"Lancel, the boy, I won't let Robert punish him for my stupidity."

"Aye." Sarella had sat down again, slowly running her thumb over the witch's hand. "I know you would never allow him to suffer that. He does too, I suspect. It's why I think he likes you."

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Sarella: I mean really sister romancing a Lannister! With hate between our families? it is like something out of your stories.
Ophelia: So is you being covered by a swarm of bugs so shut up before you start living one too.

"No, I found you in some weird secret chamber deep in the most cursed, haunted corner of this already cursed and haunted castle. How did you even get there?!"

Ophelia wanted to ask the same thing.

"I don't know? One moment I was somewhere, and then the next… poof."

Her sister blinked.

"Poof?"

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Sigh... Ophelia you don't see how you are shooting yourself in the foot here? You complain about Sarella using your vocabulary then you do this and start finding her new lines! I can guarantee you that she will be using Poof in a similar context within the next few chapters.

"You're lucky I found you. Who knows what the spirits wanted from you down there."

Ophelia shuffled, taking a deep breath as her chest complained in discomfort, the wine not enough to dull all the pain. And that was the way she liked it.

"Probably some kind of vessel. Lady Whent is getting up in years. They must have tried to get me to stay. Maybe take her place. I didn't understand half of what they tried to show me. But it looked like an offering."

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Very logical if terrible in implication. I shudder to think about what Ophelia would be doing as the Dark Lady of Harrenhal with her power and experience as Taylor o fall back on.

The curse of Harrenhal clearly felt something in her that it disliked. Perhaps her connection to the curse back at King's Landing. Those who died here probably didn't like that she spent some time with the people who burned them alive.

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By the way Scrimshaw old buddy you really should add the information threadmark from SB here, you know just something I felt at this line for no reason at all.

"Congratulations, sister. You, little sister, are a mommy."

It was Danelle's egg.

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Sarella: Honestly I can't believe that you got a surprise child first out of all of us! I was always certain it would be Obara who did! Always the queit ones I suppse.

Perhaps." Running her fingers across the speckled. "If I told you I had an idea that the creature inside this little thing was a genuinely terrifying monster, would you believe me?"

Slowly nodding her head, the dark skinned girl asked the obvious question.

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Sarella: I mean how much different is that from a regular child? I mean we all have enough little sibling to remember what small children are like!

Well, you lived." The old woman walked in, her back only slightly bent by age. "They visited me too." Lady Whent pursed her lips, walking over to Ophelia's bedside. "If it's any consolation, I didn't think they'd be so… vicious."

Bent fingers ran across a particularly ugly bruise that wrapped around the witch's throat.

"Do you have to deal with that every night?"

Shaking her head, the old woman responded with a sense of pity.

"No. My magic never was strong enough to fuel them so. But you, well, I think you know better than I do what this place is."

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Once again I feel really bad for how shitty her life is. I mean in the end the even a fraction of what Ophelia experiences is far too much, her lack of power is truly a blessing is disguise.

Lady Whent is officially challenging Olenna for coolest old lady in my mind.

"If it helps you sleep at night, the dragon doesn't have your husband."

"What… I… how could you…."

It was clear that the young bastard had struck a nerve. And Sarella visibly tensed when the healer approached, the old, grandfatherly man checking how much of the strong wine had been drunk.

"Danelle, she saved them." With great difficulty, the young seeker of secrets raised her hand to the other. "Let me show you."

At the tentative contact, Ophelia let the tiny, tiny bond that existed between her and the great monster bat solidify before passing over to the older woman.

"The castle, I think it's taking their power, their… strength and will to exist. But Lady Lothston is taking their souls and letting them slip into her skins."

There were a few long moments of silence, lights and colors shifting, pain dancing up the witch's arm, and it was only when the old woman broke the contact did she realize that the reincarnated mortal hadn't taken a breath in almost a minute.

"Shella, you may call me Shella." Eventually, the Lady of Harrenhal replied. "I, well, words can never express what you have done for me." Her voice was thick and heavy, unshed tears pricking at her eyes. "Every night I prayed to the Gods, the Old, the New, the ones of Valyria that my ancestors worshipped… I…. thank you." Sniffling, it was clear that the old woman was totally overcome by emotion. "Healer, see that she is made well. I am sorry my dears, I must, well, I must pray I think. And then give thanks the right way too."

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Good for you finally getting some kind of closure for Shelia Ophelia! Also I have even more respect for Danelle if she is still doing something to save what she can of the curse's victims despite all the shit that has happen to her. I wonder if this changed her opinion about her ancestor? It doesn't appear as if she knew much about Danelle beyond her legend so this act of surprising mercy must be pretty incongruous as to who she really is.

As the woman who had born the burden of the ancient curse turned to walk away, a tired looking - and extremely confused - Lancel Lannister caught her by the arm and glanced as the two Sand Snakes. At a small nod, he gave the two sisters an unsteady smile and gently but firmly escorted the Lady of the Castle towards the kitchen.

"He's a sensible boy." Glancing up, the Dornishwomen finally paid attention to the erstwhile healer. "Tea and company will do good for her, then she can go pray. Besides, I do not think the gods would begrudge her a few moments of peace."

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Yes Lancel you continue to be a sensible boy! Helping the old lady out in her time of need has made you better as a knight then some Kingsguard when it comes to the defending women part of the oaths.

"Well, firstly, I must ask the obvious my lady. Please understand I mean no disrespect by this, but I am given to understand that you were found nude, on your own, in a secluded area of the castle. That, combined with what I can very clearly identify as strangulation marks-" Here, he indicated the lines of bruises on her neck. "Indicate one likely course of events. Should you need care in that way, I can contact a midwife or, perhaps, prepare a letter for your father….?"

Once more, Sarella's tension was visibly increased and it took everything Ophelia had to reach over her free hand and take her sister's.

"No, good sir, but I was not raped. What I experienced was somewhat different than any normal, physical assault."

At this, he nodded.

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I can sadly see why the assumption of this situation is one of sexual assault, sadly something you would expect of a young girl suddenly harmed in such a manner alone at night in the shithole of Westeros. I hope this doesn't become a problem down the line though, even if the truth is that sexual assaults played no role rumors about it might still happen. Worse since this is Westeros and their society is crappy enough to consider being a rape victim something to be ashamed of her enemy might spread rumors about it intentionally.

Though the height of irony would be that their will probably be more accurate rumors that she ran afoul of the curse of Harrenhal that the more logical will deride as too fanciful to be real.

'Other than Tyene, I suppose.'

Yawning, before the young witch even noticed it, she had dozed off, the healer smiling and leaving a few things with the older sister of the two before excusing himself.

Sarella mostly just chuckled, content to remain with her sister and decided to use the daylight she had left to read a tome borrowed from Lady Whent's library. Once the old surgeon had excused himself, she rearranged her sister's body, placed the egg back with the sleeping witch, and ended up slipping back into sleep herself.

Young Lancel, however, would keep his vigil, eventually switching out with Ser Dayne and only departing to explain things as best he could to the somewhat irate Lord Dondarrion

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You know what Lancel? I think you have earned yourself a spot on the Husbando list for Ophelia. Not much convinced about it yet and we still have plenty of time to introduce more candidate but you have found a place on the list! Be proud of that good sir it is an honor.

Aside from the normal scheming whores she had to put in her place, Cersei had absolutely no doubt about her loyalty to House Lannister. Her sons, after all, would need to be able to support each other. And if she wanted Tommen to inherit instead of the dwarf, she would have to ensure that the bannermen understood it would be in their best interests to support her son's claim and cause.

'Damn the mad king.' Her quill scratched particularly deep. 'But that wildfire, had it been even the most minutely bit more like Robert, the whole city would have burned.' Even if she'd never admit it out loud, discovering exactly how little she knew had been a bit of a wake up call. 'But at least with Pycelle gone my father now depends on me.'

A woman she may be, but no one else would rule her, not so long as she had her beauty and her mind.

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The work of a Cersei is never done it seems. Let none say that among her flaws is a lack of hard work in pursuing that she wants.

Cersei's smile faltered. Because of course word had reached the Queen that the Dornish witch girl had become entangled in some form of incident and came off worse for it. And that meant, as the responsible adult, she'd done the logical thing.

Politely inquire about it.

Of course, what she meant to do was test the emotional response from the girl's companions. Lancel in particular had been an obvious source of possible information. So too had she asked Tyene about what had happened, trying to gauge their reactions so she could have an understanding of the witch's actual condition and whether she was in any sort of danger or not.

For entirely tactical reasons, of course.

She couldn't just come out and ask to see her. By the Seven, no. As the queen she had been compelled to wait until the conversation had taken a natural turn towards the girl's recent absence and whether the events of the past few days would leave any permanent marks on her health. As someone obviously valuable to the Game, she was a very important piece to keep track of.

Yes, that's why she was taking a moment to adjust her hair and smooth out her dress now that she was finally getting to speak to the child. After being denied access to Ophelia's room by Harrenhal's physician - the nerve of which had almost seen him horse whipped - Cersei had been left to content herself with the words of others.

She was Queen and could very well visit a bedridden girl if she so wanted. Only she hadn't forced the issue as she normally would. Why, if a rumor started about her visiting the Dornish witch by her lonesome… Cersei couldn't think of anything worse.

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Why Cersei! I'm sorry to say you might be sending a few mixed messages in regards to Ophelia. You care about her and her condition, but you totally don't! ... but tell me about her anyway please.

It is strange adorable.

"It's obviously bothering you. So why not go see her?"

Cersei pinned her brother with an unimpressed glare, both at the fact he was still standing at the front of the tent instead of checking on their children and that he would question her.

Trust Jamie to just go out and suggest the simplest solution to an issue with no regard for how it reflected on her.

"I already told you. I need to wait-"

"For an opportunity. Yes. You said that, many times. In fact, you told me last night how uncouth it would be if you forced your attentions on a young woman in her sick bed."

"I can't just barge into her room unannounced."

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I mean you could just go visit her and people would assume that you are simply as good queen being kind to a young lady at court so sadly harmed. Or you could if you hadn't spent your entire reign being Cersei and the idea of you caring for everyone is so out of character it might actually cause some suspicion.

"The King certainly can. I heard he was euphoric at hearing her recovery was moving along quickly enough that he'd be getting those potions again. Gods forbid that he has to be sober for a day."

Cersei's nose wrinkled in distaste.

Robert and his wine.

Having had to spend just a few days without being able to recklessly imbibe had left him near in tears from the collective hangover. Because, quite frankly, the queen had almost laughed at her husband when he was left bedridden with a ringing migraine. It was almost enough to convince her that there was justice in the world.

Almost.

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Ha! That is what you get Robert! I think the best part is that this might make Robert even more attached to Ophelia. After all the only thing better at making someone dependent on you for dealing with their indulgence in an addictive substance is to stop and let them have to deal with the consequence of you absence. It might be accidental but a cynical part of me loves it.

"There is a difference and you know it. Robert doesn't care what others think of his relationship with the Dornish. He would just as easily run them out of King's Landing as he would welcome them and none would bat an eye."

"And you, Queen Cersei, care about what others think of your friendship with the witch girl."

She pushed him, irate as she looked through the opening of her tent.

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Cersei: Well yes but I can't admit that you idiot!

"Well, what should I call it? You're obviously getting nothing out of the witch besides company. Unless I'm missing something…."

"No, Jamie, I did not bed the girl."

"Oh, good. I already have to drink until I pass out until Robert visits you, lest I run him through like I did the Mad King." His grin grew rakish for a moment. "Though I would have to applaud your taste if you wanted to acquaint yourself with the Snakes. Assuming they deign not to bite your breast. After all, I think Tyene, that is her name, yes? Yes. I think she might want to take my place in that respect."

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Oh so Jaime konw Tyene is taking some of his usual burden of his shoulders and is okay with it? He even is applauding her taste? Well now Jaime when did you develop such a fondness for Dornish girls? You know aside from the whole life saving from wildfire part?

"Well, if you don't want to do it I can go ask Oberyn."

She twitched.

"Since when have you gotten so close to the girl's father?" Cersei stared at her brother. "If any of them is likely to murder us it would be him. Unless, of course, you are thinking of another spear. One that might not always be in his hand…."

"Whatever you are thinking - drop it."

Her smile was a demure picture of innocence.

"I have no idea what you mean by that, brother dear."

"Cersei, I mean it."

"Though now that I think about it, you have been spending an awful lot of time around the man. Hoping to stab him with something other than your sword, hmm?"

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Oh God no! Just because you're having a homosexual relationship with a cray poisoner from an enemy family doesn't mean that he should, one was too many I don't think the word can handle two!

Don't even joke about that Cersei, leave the men who love to get sweaty while using phallic object as a Freudian metaphor as god intended.

"My queen, Ser Jaimie." And just like that, perhaps the worst possible person that could choose that moment to appear, did. "I must ask that if you wish to indulge with my father, that you do so somewhere my senses can not perceive." Here, the very witch the Lady of Lannister had been… well, not fretting over, she would never fret, but the point stood that the witch in question was standing at the entrance to her tent and smirking. "After all, he's rather taken with his newest paramour. Perhaps he even has another daughter on the way."

Here, the smirking Dornishwoman paused again. It was also an excellent opportunity to take in her new appearance. Mostly, she was clad in green - dark, if of a light cloth - with a dress, a cloak, and a veil. Her dress was full body, going from her ankles up to, presumably, her throat. It covered the whole of her body except for her hands - which were the only part of her left uncovered. The cloak was of a slightly darker color and of wool with a fur ruff, which was bound at her waist by a gold chain, and left only the front of her dress visible.

Tellingly, her ensemble was finished by a Dornish veil, something the young woman had never worn before, and that left only her face visible.

"But I do think it would be a lie to say he would not appreciate a form such as yours, Ser Knight."

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Ophelia: besides I think have been responsible for enough corruption with Sarella that you two pretty boy inventing Yaoi might doom us all to hell.

Also I don't know why but reading about her covered by injuries just make me feel a little wrong their is something about hiding how bad you are hurt that makes it worse.

My lady, I have no idea what you mean! Truthfully, please, I…." His face crumpled slightly. "I do not need to give the king any further reasons to accuse me of such things. Wait a moment-" The knight's eyes widened when Ophelia slowly lowered the veil she was wearing, seeing the yellow-purple bruises on her face. "Child, what happened, are you ok, who did this to-"

Reaching out, Cersei put her hand on Jaimie's shoulder.

"Love, check on the children."

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What Jaime did you not realize she was already injured? What did you think all the drama was about and why else would she be wearing a veil she never wore before? Was this an intentional move for some reason or did he not connect girl was horribly injured to wearing concealing clothes for some reason?

"Who did this to you?" Stalking over to the wounded girl before her, the queen's fingers cupped her companion's cheek. "Tell me and I will make them scream."

Now, in full force, the anger and rage that so easily came to her made itself known.

Her teeth were grinding, her lips curled in sneer, fire practically burning in her eyes.

Somehow, it only made the girl smile.

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Ophelia: Aww you do care enough to brutally hurt people for me! That's so nice.

"They are long since dead." Ophelia paused, shaking her head slightly. "It was my own folly that invited them back." Cersei's fingers pushed a little harder, enough to draw a wince but not to push deeply enough to truly hurt. "If it helps, I intend to go back there one day and finish what it started."

Emotions washed through the queen. A great many emotions in fact, mostly things she refused to consider at the moment. But the final thing she chose to focus on was… exasperation.

"The next time you choose to injure yourself most severely, you will be injured by someone I can torture."

Throwing her head back, the Dornishwoman laughed, showing the top of the strangulation marks just visible above her high collar line.

"I shall endeavor to keep that in mind, your grace."

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I do wonder if Cersei connected this to her own experience with magic, you know where she was also hurt and powerless to take revenge? But regardless this is a very nice bonding moment in this surpisingly odd friendship.

Taking the young woman by the hand, the royal blonde decided the least foolish thing was to sit with the newly arrived hunter of secrets and talk. If only to find out the exact details of what had happened, perhaps even talking the young woman out of something similarly foolish in the future.

Cersei wasn't going to hold out much hope for that one.

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Ophelia: Look I know it looks bad but every time I do something foolish I also get a new cool magic friend. Like my black cat back in King's Landing or my new Egg baby! I think I am going to name him Benedict...

"And that was when Gandalf roared, slamming the butt of his staff downwards and onto the stone path. You shall not pass, he said! A spark of magic illuminating the caverns, piercing through the smoke and shadows cast by the Balrog…"

Nymeria watched as her younger sister rapped a cane against the bottom of the wheelhouse.

"Our heroes, beset by the heat of Durin's Bane, could do nothing but watch as the mighty beast reared backwards, its whip of dark fire ready to lash out… when…"

"Wheeeeen?"

Her captive audience, composed of very excitable children, plus a certain adventurer, leaned forward, eyes shining with interest as they hungered for details, hungered to know what would happen to the fellowship of heroes who embarked on a journey to prevent the rise of an evil king and his minions.

"The bridge shuddered, mortar and stone crumbling under the weight of the Balrog's next step!"

Chuckling at the appropriate "oohs" and "aahs", it was clear that Ophelia practically vibrated with satisfaction.

Truly, her sister remained a master of her craft, even in another kingdom.

"Did the Balrog fall?"

"Is Gandalf alright?"

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As the Lord of the Rings, I see Ophelia is doing her duty as a magical character in western media by ripping off Tolkien. Not that I think he would mind when kids are enjoying it so much and having theiry imaginations set alight.

Though they were not the only ones listening intently. As the second eldest Sand Snake could tell that her younger sisters were also listening in as the middle child spoke. Sarella, of course, listened with unabashed glee, genuinely loving these kinds of stories with an immense amount of passion. In fact, it was she who had helped Ophelia refine her ability to tell her tales by being a willing audience.

Who cares if this was the sixth time she heard the story? The little scholar still seemed to enjoy each time as it was the first.

Even if Ophelia had to convince her that, no, Middle Earth was not a cleverly disguised retelling of Westerosi history and that the witch wasn't trying to give her clues about where to find treasures like the One Ring or the Arkenstone. At this point, the last thing Nymeria needed was for her foolish sisters to get it into their thick heads that dragons kept hoards of gold and stolen treasure.

As it stood, there was a not unrealistic fear that they'd simply disappear in the night and wake up on a boat to Old Valyria the very next day.

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No Sarella this story is not to prepare you to for treasure hunting in Westeros. It is to prepare you for when you get magical transport to Middle Earth so you have the proper background to have adventures their!

Of course, Nymeria smiled when the children cried out as Gandalf's "dying" message was delivered, the wizard then falling to his certain doom alongside the demon of flame and shadow.

They seemed utterly insistent to Ophelia that the heroes should rescue him and save the day. Unfortunately, the witch shook her head and continued the tale with the remaining group making their escape. But the point was made that Gandalf had bought the Fellowship a chance at ultimate victory.

Let it not be said that Nymeria didn't recognize the sacrifice of a valiant man, even if her interests sway the other direction. Though she did think the idea of many genuinely heroic people in so many positions of power was a tiny bit silly.

It was a nice thought though.

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Well I can't blame you for felling that way in Westeros but unlike your story this one was written by someone who knew a genre called fantasy was meant to be unrealistic rather then a myopic manatee.

... just to doge any potential flame wars I am being sarcastic, I would not devote this mush time to GOT fanfic if I didn't love it.

"It's impolite to talk during a show, little sister."

Cersei, the queen ,glanced between the two sisters. Nymeria gave her the same look she did to the twins when they were naughty. It actually made the older woman pale.

"Now, now, it was nothing but a little comment, big sister." The blonde demurred, but it was obvious how Ophelia had to glance at her first. "I mean nothing by it."

That actually earned a small frown from her.

"Of course not. I would hope that you would never think me suspicious of your intentions. But I must say that there is always a longing in me for warmer climates."

Nymeria's words caused a visible stiffening in her sister, doubly so when she pulled her fur cloak tighter about her shoulders. Neither the queen nor Tyene missed the fact that it was very, very impressively made. Underscoring her point, the second eldest of the Snakes pulled one of the corners down a little bit to the coat of arms done on the collar.

Small, discrete, and obviously a gift from a lord.

The message needed no more saying so, after taking a long look at the others in the room, Tyene dipped her head.

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Oh? Who is the one giving Nymeria gifts? And why exactly? Normally I would say it was a romantic gift but well Nymeria is gay. Was this an attempt to cultivate political favor? People should be noticing the closeness the sand snake have to the Royals by now.

Also I have on idea what the message was supposed to be here.

Nodding her acknowledgement of the situation, the more discreet of the family's political operatives was glad that things might be less… overly dramatic in the future.

"Now, sister, tell them about Darth Vader." Turning to Ophelia, who jumped slightly as her eyes had gone milky white, the Dornishwoman was glad to see that the bruises were starting to fade. "I think they'll absolutely adore hearing about such a dark and mysterious knight."

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Ah yes the Star wars adaptation! A part of the checklist for any SI where it can be plagiarized.

"I was half considering the Lion King."

Even Cersei had a small chuckle at that, though she certainly hadn't heard the story yet.

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Ophelia this is important, please tell me you adapted the song too! What is event the point without all the music? You might as well just read them hamlet if you don't make them want to sing Hakuna matata for the next week straight!

Oh and now you can't tell them hamlet unless you want to get accused of being a hack who is recycling their last story.

"While I appreciate the gesture, I think my husband and his party have returned, yes?" Turning to the witch, the queen's eyes changed in a way that meant Nymeria was going to be able to tease her sister for a long, long time. "That is what you were checking on, yes?"

"The crown prince is safe, Robert is practically glowing with pride too."

Smirking, Nymeria could only pray that the boy's ego continued to shrink instead of inflate.

"How many prongs on the stag?"

"Four or five."

This time it was Sarella who caught on.

"Managed to finally bring something down with that crossbow of his?"

Ophelia only shrugged at this, letting the potential insult pass without comment. It was telling that Cersei's only response was to sigh and shake her head. The Snakes certainly didn't hear her mutter under breath the phrase "thank the gods it wasn't another cat".

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Well I suppose it is good on Joffery for doing something that earned his fathers approval... even if that thing is violence on more approve targets.

"You were going to tell us about the greatest dark knight." Tyene interjected, pointedly. "Because you truly have done the children a disservice if you have yet to communicate that particular hero in his full glory."

Sarella snickered a little at just how sweetly her older sister acted and Nymeria leaned back into her seat. Things were safe when her sisters were like this. They were… stable.

Which was no small thing for their family.

Of course, their sister jumped back into her tale, more than willing to indulge Tyene' request.

"She is speaking of a dangerous man. A tragic man known as Darth Vader whose breath could freeze the heart of the bravest men and whose presence was like the night itself. You would be forgiven to think of him as nothing but a monster of cold iron and burning hatred whose blade killed many knights."

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Well that is an interesting way to introduce Vader, I mean by the end he was a hero arguably but he is still, well Vader for most of it. I do like the adaptation of his iconic voice but I have to ask if the irremovable armor was adapted? I mean a man stuck in magic armor is not too out their.

*Sigh* God damn ti we really need some sort of Sarella's Stories Spin-Off so all these adaptation can be experienced in full!

Only her sister could imagine something as ludicrous as a city in the sky ruled by an Emperor drunk on power and the might of his magical terror. A clear reference to the Mad King, if nothing else. Having the heroes ride dragons to destroy it went a bit against the usual narratives, but copious use of duels as opposed to larger battles wasn't so different from the usual stories.

She was very fond of the tale, herself. And of the princess who took fate into her own hands to lead the resistance against the evil emperor.

'The empire should have won, my left foot. And by the gods did it ever give Tyene ideas.'

Ophelia was not helping her sister become Empress of the Galaxy.

And Nymeria would like to keep it that way.

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Always interesting to see how thing are adapted through cultural lenses, I can definitely see how turning the ships into Dragons makes sense in Westeros. But now I wonder fi the Millennium Falcon is a dragon or if it is some kind of actual giant falcon. Also regardless of what it is was the scene where they introduce it in all it's glory only for Luke to call is a piece of junk? Not like they are unfamiliar with the idea of beat up old animal being sold by a dishonest person as top notch.

I am curious about the Mad King parallel though, I get why she would see it but the Tyrant king architype is a classic one that even if Aerys is the most current person to fit it in living memory. Hell I would argue Harren The Black fits the comparison better to a Westeros mind! He also built a terrible fortress to oppress people that was destroyed by a dragon. Though I imagine a Dornishman thinks relatively little about Harren compared to Aerys like and by now the association is let from the years of having heard it. But if say a riverlander heard it or even just a bunch of kids in his castle for the first time would that be their parallel?

Nice to see Leia remains a strong role model for girls all over though! Oh and it looks like even here we have Empire fan boys! This is what you get for making the Empire look so cool Lucas! Even people on different planets like them more then the rebels.

Finally I just have to say, lets be honest Nymeria, if Tyene has set her sights of Empress of the Galaxy do you really think you can stop her? That is in Ophelia's hands alone at this point.

As uneventful as the journey had proven to be at first, the second eldest of the Sand Snakes knew it was only a matter of time until one of the youngest, namely the magically gifted of the bunch, would get into some kind of trouble. There was no avoiding it, and they were all somewhat used to it.

She didn't have to like it, however.

And she liked the hastily covered bruises on her sister's skin even less so.

Because of all places to get into trouble, Ophelia had somehow been dragged to the depths of Harrenhal by what she had to assume was some kind of vengeful ghost from eight hundred years ago. Why? Because her sister had been cavorting with ancient Targaryen spirits in King's Landing of all places.

Nymeria suspected some kind of scent had stuck on her ,which ended up with her getting beaten black and blue. It was the only explanation that made sense. How else could such truly improbable events occur to place her little sister so squarely in the path of danger?

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... I mean you are not wrong. Though I would replace 'scent' with 'Gods know how many different wizards, magical powers and other bullshit setting up various schemes'. My money for this one is on Bloodraven personally since it is his old girlfriend and occasional residence involved.

Of course, the second eldest blamed herself - she had taken her eyes off the girl for a couple of nights. Only a handful. And by now everyone knew that was all it took for Ophelia to somehow be spirited away by unknown forces for what was the second time this year. What made it worse was that Nymeria had only heard of her sister's… spelunking in the godswood because Elia didn't know it was supposed to be kept a secret.

And after a stern talking to, so had Ophelia.

'By the old gods and the new, she did not get into this much trouble back home.'

At least there she stayed in her personal study, working and developing medicines. Away from trouble and surrounded by her many exotic pets. Even if she ended up becoming a hermit in all but name, Nymeria was sure she would not get early gray hairs out of it.

But ever since leaving home, she'd heard nothing but trouble out of their young witch.

Digging around King's Landing for ancient swords. Dragging a great bastard into plain view of the entire court. Getting shown hidden paths by what she could only guess must have been a possessed cat. And then roping their father into ritualisticly sacrificing a man to the spirit possessing said cat.

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First off Elia you remain adorable even if you are causing even more family drama.

Second, careful Nymeria your mom is showing! Giving her a stern talking to, complaining about her getting into trouble and even complaining about grey hairs they are giving you! And I hate to say this but you are being a bit of a bad one. I mean do you want her to be a hermit till she dies just so she gets in no trouble? She is a teenager getting into stupid trouble is part of the course! Even if hers is a little more interesting then the usual sort, beside it is not like you or anyone in your family have a leg to stand on regarding getting into trouble.

Nymeria was not one prone to senseless punishments, but perhaps she should have a stern-er talk with Ophelia.

After she was done having an even sterner talk with her other troublemaker of a sister.

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Other troublemaker of a sister? Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down?

"So this is Moat Cailan."

Another ruined castle stood in front of her, this one even more ancient than that of Harrenhal and just as ruined. Thankfully less magical.

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Are you sure? Because Moat Cailan is very old, I wouldn't put it past it to have magical defenses when it was built. Though by now they are would probably by long gone given its a ruin anyway.

"I hope you're not considering adopting a lizard lion, dear child of mine."

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Ophelia: Well now I am! I will name him Swampy.

"Because I thought I would have a few more years before I would become a grandfather!"

Groaning, Ophelia turned her horse away and trotted off, ignoring the laughter that followed her, as she rubbed her stomach. There, bundled at her waist, was Danelle's egg. It was in contact with her skin as much as she could without overly risking the thing, because it was very much alive.

Inside the shell, itself as hard as stone, was a life.

A strange, different kind of life she'd never felt before, but life nonetheless. And it was growing. The only problem was that it was growing very, very slowly, something she knew she was supposed to remedy.

'But that can keep, I suppose.'

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God I was joking about the egg being her kids but they are really going all the way with it! Also our egg is apparently in need of some growth acceleration which does make me curious about how. Though knowing ASOIAF the answer is probably blood sacrifice of some kind.

What had long, long ago been a mighty fortress was now sinking into the very earth it had been raised out of. Pillars of basalt, like weathered teeth, stuck out of the swamp of the Neck. This left access to the towers, such as they were, open. Mismatched, no two alike, three of the twenty were still mostly complete. Positioned over and around the patch of good ground, any attempt to pass along it would see a force ride under the towers and be subject to bombardment - at best.

In truth, it was obvious that just dragging a few pieces of the ruined wall over would be enough to block the road and moreover assault would be impossible.

Even now she was reaching out with her powers and calming the teams of horses the procession was using to ferry their supplies across. Remnants of a half filled in moat held the lairs of a great number of lizard lions and, even with her power keeping them away from the column, their musk and smell bothered the other animals.

All of this was made necessary by the clinging, sucking mud.

There was a swamp to their East, marshy and filled with brackish, green water that came up to the waist or neck of a man. Filled with leeches, lizard lions, and biting insects approach for any kind of a force was impossible, doubly so since the landing at Moat Cailin would be on jagged, broken ground where parts of the crumbled wall once stood.

Off to the West it was worse.

Seemingly normal, with thick grasses that stretched for leagues, the illusion was a lethal trap. Instead of firm earth any who walked into that field would find quicksand and boggy ground sucking them as they walked along. Oh, it wasn't all a death trap. But there was no straight line through it, nor any kind of cover, and the grasses were such that any attempt at passing through them would be made immediately obvious.

Not that the builders of the defenses trusted merely this. Not only did the Moat of the North still have part of its actual moat still intact, these deep grooves sat under a raised hill where she thought stakes might have been driven into raised earth.

This would have been an outerwork where troops could pour flanking fire onto the main causeway and command the vast field of death traps off to the western flank of the once castle. As she moved further up and along the road, she even saw that a tower once sate there too, one that would have been all too defensible.

Now though there were merely three, clustered together more or less, right around the causeway itself.

"Still, it is impregnable you know?"

Her father had caught up.

"Those towers alone make of the North a fortress."

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If nothing else this definitely gets across just how formidable a natural defense the neck is, even with only a few bare standing tower is it still impregnable to any attack. Though I have to say it is sad to see how bad such an ancient fortress has fallen. I always wondered why Moat Calian even got that bad, you would think that with its important placement it would be a top priority for maintenance given it is the one stop shop to defend the whole North. It makes sense now when they are all part of the same Kingdom and every war on the continent in modern memory since has been southern focused by why did it get that bad before hand? My only theory is that the North never really had the resource to spare being poor when it wasn't necessary and after the Andal invasion cooled down where they no longer really bothering to conquer the North from a combo in favor of squabble over their ow established kingdoms and because of all the previous failures, it wasn't.

"You know that some whisper."

"Oh?" Raising one eyebrow, her dashing father asked the obvious question. "What do they whisper about?"

"About how we control the king, how I seduced him. Or his wife. Or the kingsguard. Or all three." Here she turned to face the man more fully. "They whisper how our contingent has displaced the traditional Players. More importantly, they whisper how things are changing."

"By that you mean how everyone around us seems less desirous of murdering each other?" Laughing, the Dornishman's ire came out. "Every night, I dream of Elia. I see my sister and her children bloody and burnt and broken." And just as suddenly it left him, weariness replacing it. "My child, I am tired of pretending. I am tired of dining with my enemy and drinking his wine."

Leaning over, she pressed her lips to her tired father's brow.

"For Dorne and for Uncle, you will endure." Ophelia wasn't sure if she believed her own words, but she knew it would comfort the man who had so loved her. "Besides, imagine the Old Lion's surprise when you've seduced both his daughter and his good son."

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Ah yes the inevitable response to change by those with power fear. It doesn't matter if their is less conflict or you are even making things better they will always worry your change might bring about that ultimate of sins by lessening their own or denying them the chance for more. After all murdering each other is good if you could be the won who wins the murder! Sigh... well at the very least I don't think any plots will happen quite yet but they are certainly their.

"Robert might be worth seducing if he keeps up his training. Why, he almost looks ten years younger. The Demon of the Trident may yet be worth skewering if he truly manages to restore himself."

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Well well Robert is almost back to something decent? By time he gets to Winterfell Ned might not even be able to call him fat!

... Oh who am I kidding even ten years off Robert of canon is still pretty fat but still it is impressive progress! Maybe he will even live a bit long if someone else doesn't kill him!

"Do you think that I'm unaware of the costs of what I have done? That I was not willing to pay those debts? Or perhaps did you think that I would come running to you or Obara or Nymeria or Tyene and ask you to simply make the bad things go away."

Smirking, her father responded in the way only a parent could.

"And was this not the first time you have truly been beaten?" Holding up his hand, he forestalled any further objections. "In Dorne, men died for daring to look too hard at you. Here, you are a witch and a bastard and my daughter all in one." His words turned soft and a bit melancholic. "You have not been denied in a long, long time, but when beaten for the first time in a decade you come out the other side. I am not complaining that you go to your sisters for comfort, it is good you trust them, only that you hide your wounds." Reaching up, he tugged at her veil, freeing her face. "Do not hide them, for they do not mar your beauty."

And with that, he left, turning to join Obara - who had arrived atop her own horse - and rode to the front of the column.

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Not sure if this was the best move Oberyn could make as her father but it is poignant nonetheless. Frankly I don't know what the right thing for a Dad to say in this position is so I will just be happy I am not a father.

Because as thoughts of her parent's gentle rebuke cast her actions since Harrenhal in a new light,Ophelia noticed Gerold Dayne of all people with a camp follower. And as much as he might agitate her, the man was not the kind to tarry with a whore.

Eventually, her instincts were proven right.

Having shadowed the duo for a while, just keeping them within her ever shrinking range, she saw something far more important than scandal or gossip. After rebuffing the advances of the woman, the elder Dayne handed her a letter and turned to stalk off. Subtly maneuvering off the muddy path and just into the nearby swamp where she knew the ground was safe by the beasts which had crawled along it, she waited until he was past and chose to follow the woman instead.

This investigation turned out to be both boring and disgusting, as the prostitute did her job as well as could be expected - something that the reincarnated woman was growing ever more tired of having to observe. Ultimately, it wasn't until it started to grow dark that the woman took the letter to a mummer dressed in bright, garish clothes.

He in turn handed it to a tall, thin, somewhat ugly horsemen who, without so much as a glance at the woman, set off at a steady trot.

Neither particularly shocked, though still a little disappointed, Ophelia turned her horse back.

The details of that letter were lost to her, but now she knew to keep an eye on the young man. It also occurred to her that this might even be a bit of an opportunity.

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Gerold that better be a love letter to Arianna is you know what is good for you! Also real lose opportunity by not just diverting that horse right too you and letter going away unread. What if that had some critical information that you just let go to the enemy unmolested?

"Tyene has been itching to stretch her legs ever since Nymeria started drawing lines in the sand." With a mirthless chuckle the Sand Snake decided that this is what her sister needed. "Just a little project for her and her friends. Perhaps the Darkstar might even outlast their… attentions."

No matter what, the point was moot.

Either he was an enemy, and so would die, or he was an ally. In which case he would merely be annoyed into working the stick out of his ass.

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Wow if I didn't hate Darkstar so much I might almost feel bad for him. Still a nice reminder of the usefulness of a reliable minion.

Of course, Ophelia had one skill she had truly excelled at in this life and the last.

Rank denial.

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Ah yes! No arguing that one, not many people can become a gangland kingpin while still denying any villainy to your degree. Really unless you meet a certain chemistry teacher in Albuquerque you have few true challengers.

Because she had yet to mention once, to anyone, that since that night in Harrenhal she had been nothing but pleasantly warm or pleasantly cool no matter how much or how little she had on or where she was or whether there was a fire roaring just an inch away from her face.

Stroking the egg held close to her belly, she practiced that skill just as deftly as she maneuvered her horse over next to Marwyn's, calling out to the man as she approached.

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Hmm... I am not sure but I think this is something similar to what Dany has in canon at times? Or I am just recalling Fanon from some fic I don't remember. Either way I am sure it will pay off eventually.

Cletus Yronwood

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I know it is unfair but everytime I see the name Cletus I can't help but think I reading about a southern hillbilly. I mean it is not as bad as the Muppet Tullys but I do not get why Martin named him this.

"M'lord, our final approach is beginning now. The pirate ships herding us towards the beach have fallen back and are driving us into the cove. We have also confirmed with signalling mirrors and the Myrish lens that the encirclement is complete. When we run up the battle flag of Dorne, they will pounce."

"E-excellent. That will be all."

Frowning, the blonde Dornishman, even if his blood was actually that of the First Men, glared at the captain and even put his hand on his sword. The threat clear, the uncertain idiot scurried away to resume command of the hulk.

"Your father's plan is excellent and you will lead us to victory. Trust me, I know you. Once the fighting starts and your blood is up, the shakes will stop. I promise."

Once more, he privately cursed the Prince of Dorne.

Quite simply, Quentyn was not his father's son. He was gentle and kind and not at all bold or audacious. Not to say he was a coward, his best friend was excellent with the spear and axe and Cletus would gladly mock anyone who wanted to challenge the Martell heir to a sparring match, but that, put simply, his friend was a bit of a worrier. Prone to seeing how a plan could go wrong and then dwelling on those aspects of presumed failure.

At least where it came to himself.

In truth, sometimes, it seemed silly that a lad who had been practically born in the saddle would fret over the state of his tack and bridle - as if he needed them.

But that was simply how he was.

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Sigh... yeah this is just another crappy thing about Westeros. Young boys with confidence issues that society demands charge into war in order to get basic respect. Quentyn for all his talents is inclined for the battlefield and I don't think this will grant him better control of the of his catastrophizing issues.

Leading the operation would be Ser Quentyn Martell, who would be first off the boat, followed by himself, Ser Daemon Sand, Ser Garlan Tyrell, and Lord Arstan Selmy.

They were Quentyn's bodyguard and would also serve as the first wave in the attack.

Behind them would come fifty other knights, led by Sers Blackmont and Fell from Dorne and the Stormlands respectively. Amusingly the two had both been minor, unlanded tourney knights, both had been cousins of the current lords of their houses, and both had experience commanding amphibious landings in Essos.

It had been the duo, whom had become fast friends, that had suggested the change in standard equipment for this operation.

Instead of being clad in plate, the force of fifty five knights wore chainmail and gambesons, carried shields and spears, and had been drilled relentlessly in quickly stripping off their helmets and armor.

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If nothing else I can't say this isn't an impressive force! This might not be the King's guard but a force of knights even in chainmail rather then plate can probably cut through most peasant or pirates.

After all, even a small puddle of water could drown an emperor, at least according to a story the duo had recounted different, and consistently escalating, versions of.

"Hey, remember how the first time Blackmont told the story the Emperor had gotten stuck in mud and drowned in a small river."

"Yeah." Quentyn cautiously responded and Cletus took that as an excellent sign.

"Well, Fell told the story to the lads just a bit ago. This time he drowned because he slipped in horse shit and a donkey drowned him with its urine. The emperor also sounded suspiciously like Tywin Lannister."

Snorting, then chuckling, then shaking his head, the younger of the two men eventually gave his friend a single, small smile.

"Gods damn those two if the Lannisters take that as an affront."

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I am assuming that this is one of Ophelia that he is retelling, because it does sound an awful lot like a recounting of the tale of Fredrick Barbarosa and his death during the crusades. Unless one of these two is also a reincarnate or this is a coincidence. Either way we can now clearly see the great flaw of Medieval Story telling, a lack of copyright! If he lived in a civilized age Ophelia coudl have him ruined for using her intellectual property like this!

First came a grinding noise.

Then a crunching sound.

Finally the front of the deck began to lean forward, the ship having been under full sail at the time had ground its way up the shore as far as possible and beached itself totally on the rock line.

Suffice to say, the men had been tossed around but there was a reason that it was a company of knights being sent on this mission.

They still needed a moment to collect themselves, reorder their force, and for Quentyn to cry out.

"For Dorne!"

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Let's go boys! Charge!

eading the way, he actually leapt over the side of the railing before the ramp was all the way down. It meant he stumbled and almost fell off, before just barely managing a recovery. Cletus wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his previously jittery, nervous friend rushing off on his own. Instead, he cursed his slowness in reacting and climbed onto the ramp to try and catch up with his idiot little brother.

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What the young boy under a ridiculous amount for pressure to prove himself got in trouble by overcopensating! How shocking!

There were pirates to kill, but that didn't mean immediately breaking ranks and running off was a good idea!

And all it took was a minute of a somewhat awkward dismount and the knights were assembled, not that the heir of House Yronwood knew, as he was more concerned with trying to catch up to his friend.

A friend who was being verbally accosted by what looked like a half drunk sentry.

All it took was a vaguely threatening gesture with a spear and Quentyn had zeroed in on the man - and it took all of fifteen seconds for the lad to finish his charge, let the pirate's spear thrust glance off his shield, and bury the point of his own weapon in the man's throat.

It was a movement straight out of a fighting manual, with a perfectly aligned extension of the arm and a full step into the strike.

Not a sound made it past the pirate's ruined throat, nothing but a bloody bubble of spit made it past his lips.

Unfortunately for the people the men of Dorne sought to destroy, this was their only guard. And now with him bleeding out on the sound this left the settlement, if it deserved such a term, wide and open for the now rapidly advancing body of men. Though, curiously, the lack of any other signs of life seemed almost impossible.

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So lightly guarded what is going on...

Like an ambush just waiting to happen.

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Of course! Those cunning pirates must have gotten word! why these must be the greatest pirate the world has ever seen!

Suddenly, the wail of a lone woman called out from the distance and the Dornish knights fully took in the town.

Firstly, it was a double row of buildings - back to back - with the town forming a long curved line along the side of a hill, Well enough constructed, it was clear where things like the tavern and the blacksmith and the cobbler were, but most of all it made the path of advance very, very clear too.

Swiftly falling into rank, first the other three knights of Quentyn's bodyguard, then the main force of knights, then some of the sailors fell in line. And, while it was clear from their looks that both Ser Garlan and Ser Daemon would have words for the young lordling, such disagreements would not happen in front of the others. Instead, the whole of the group quickly ordered the sailors and marines to form into loose bands and sweep behind the group and to the sides and behind the buildings while the knights advanced forward.

What they came to was genuinely.

There, at the end of the row, was the whole of the town gathered - perhaps three or four hundred people in all - at the foot of a hanging gallows. In it, an Essosi swung from a noose, shirtless, clad only in faded trousers of some kind, while a sobbing woman knelt at the foot of the feet of the hung man.

Strangely enough, Cletus felt that he almost recognized the dead man's face.

Unfortunately, the good fortune of the Westerosi warriors lasted no longer, as the men in the crowd and some of the women turned and shouted in alarm.

Every person there drew a weapon of some kind, either knives or axes or swords, and a few in the crowd had on armor and even fewer were carrying spears. On the whole, it seemed like the pirate settlement had gathered to hang a criminal amongst their own number.

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... Never mind, this is actually kind of embarrassing.

"Surrender, so you can hang us later? Damn you all! Fight my boyos, fight for you women and your lives! Don't let these blue blooded bastards rape your children and burn your homes!"

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Buddy I don't know what book of war you are reading but most people tend to be more ruthless if you fight back not less? Like I know you are pirates and trying to rally your men but you would think anyone living long as a pirate would know to hedge their beat better.

"My cousin. One of the ones Father sent out as spies. Tomas… he used to let me ride on his back as he showed me about the walls of the Shadow City."

Cletus put his hand on his friend's shoulder while the older men simply sighed, turning to see the work done. And, knowing that appearances had to be maintained, the knight did what he thought was best.

"Go with them. I shall keep vigil over his body."

A jerk of the head was all the acknowledgement he got for a long moment before, pausing at the foot of the gallows, the newly blooded knight lifted his visor and spoke in a voice that was a mixture of pain and anger and pure exhaustion.

"Thank you."

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Well shit. First casualty of the war for the Martells, even if we don't know how they found out about him. I don't think it bodes well for the overall Martell plan if their first move find dead spies already. Still no going back at this point, with this must invested already you can't exactly stop now.

Bran loved climbing.

Loved the feeling of the breeze running over him, whipping his hair from one side to the other. Loved the feeling of absolute focus as he looked after the next stone to grab onto, the next ledge to balance on as the sun warmed his back. Feeling the slippery ice and smooth rock and dry moss and rough wood and every other texture in the world as he kept moving upwards.

He'd been told, many times, by his parents that it was not safe for him to play on the old keep.

That it was dangerous and falling apart.

He didn't see it that way.

It was a challenge. Something to prove himself to. A task he could dedicate his mind and body to, it was a test he could excel at and feel proud of accomplishing every time he reached the top of the tower successfully. Sometimes taking an entire afternoon to finish because he'd enjoyed the climb so much, enjoying the breeze and the sun and the pleasant burn in his muscles.

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Oh it is so damn freaky reading this when you know he falls in canon. Hopefully that won't happen this time around!

Today was different.

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Oh no

Today he spent a little bit too much time enjoying himself and when he'd blinked, the sun was seemingly already close to setting and the sky was a beautiful shade of orange. Still, he was closer to the top than the bottom and the stairs were a safer way down than scaling the side in the dark, so Bran did his best to climb the rest of the way up.

Even if his hands felt tired.

Even if it felt like he'd been climbing for hours already.

Frustratingly, no matter how high he got, it was like he hadn't moved from where he was. Even worse, as the abandoned tower seemingly went on forever it was steadily getting darker and colder and he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers. At this point, he wondered if he should start calling for help, even if mother would get mad and scold him again for climbing somewhere he was told not to go.

Truthfully, Bran was now starting to understand why.

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It is going to happen early this time isn't it! Oh that would open up a lot of options when the Royal Party arrives to say the least.

No, no!" Crying out, the young Stark was so close he refused to stop.

There was no way he wouldn't get to the top by the time the sun was set. In fact, Bran welcomed the challenge as he pushed himself upwards, sweat running down his brow and freezing on his cheeks as he looked towards the end goal.

The window into the top floor.

Not a challenge.

Bran already lost count of the number of times he reached it, this time would be no different!

And now he was finally nearing it. Inch by painful inch. Each step was painfully slow as his breath had grown fast. The air felt light and cold at the same time. No wind attempted to push him off the tower, but at the same time, he felt as if someone had tightly gripped his chest.

Even so, he continued no matter how much his body might have ached and his lungs burned and head pounded.

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Well that is one minor moment of awesome for Bran, body feeling pushed to the limit and instead of panicking he pushes foward to safety. If you fall or not here you at least went into it a little badass Bran.

Then, right when his hand gripped the edge of the window, Bran screamed as something pulled him off the wall, up into the air, and then dragged him into the tower - the world swimming in his vision, misty as it was with sweat and tears.

Kicking, he was shaken about before being thrown into a mound of hay.

Not that it did much to cushion his fall as he hit the ground, back screaming at the impact, breath knocked out of his chest as he coughed and tried to keep from fainting. HIs vision grew dim before he could pull himself off the floor.

Looking up, suddenly the world came into focus, so sharp and clear it was almost hyper real.

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... ok no fall at least thankfully, saved by inexplicably override by magical forces it seems.

The sun had set and lack of any light meant he could barely see the shape of the being as they stepped closer, the sound of something clicking against the floor with each step. Like metal tapping stone. Bran tried to stand, tried to run away, but with his back to the wall and this stranger coming closer it was all he could do to scoot along the freezing wall and try to look for a way out.

Something that didn't involve jumping off the window.

He inched to the side and flinched as the figure pounced, wild untamed black hair covering a face so pale it was as if it was dead. Juking, he tried to dodge the tackle before his arms weres seized and claw like fingers snatched up the front of his clothes in a hard vice grip. Reacting, his own hands flew out to grab at the wrist, only to feel the cold of metal as whoever was there pulled him back towards them.

Holding him off the ground.

Yellow-green eyes stared out at him from a face that was seemingly stretched in terror. There were scars, many scars, that formed a spider web of damage across the lips and cheek and across one brow of the woman who held him. More than that there was a hole in her head - as if something had forced its way out from inside her skull. Where something unnatural twisted in the void formed by that terrible injury. A black chitined monster with a thousand, thousand eyes and legs and mouths, gnawing and stretching and sinking its hooks into the flesh beneath.

Frozen, seized by fear,, staring into the maw of an abomination beyond the wildest tails of the Far North and the Others, Bran finally screamed.

With every fiber of his being he cried out as pure, utter terror washed through him.

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QA: SMALL HOST SPECIES CHILD! HAVE YOU SEEN MY LOST HOST? WE HAVE BEEN SEPREATED AND I WANT HER BACK, SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS!
Bran: AAAAAAA!!!
QA: YOU ARE NOT BEING VERY HELPFUL.

Also a very nice reminder of exactly how monstrous Khepri looked from the outside, like she barely inaccurate at all here to how she looked and Bran is perfectly justified in thinking he is look at "an abomination beyond the wildest tails of the Far North and the Others"

[QUERY?]

Bran's head rang in pain, staring in shock at the thing. Feeling like he was being peeled back layer by layer as it stared him down. The single word etched inside his head, repeating itself over and over again and pressed against his skull as if it was trying to shove information and context and meaning into spaces that weren't meant to hold such things.

He tried to say something.

Anything.

Only for the thing to speak again.

[DESTINATION?]

For a final time Bran screamed, his throat raw and sore, as if a nail had been driven into his head. Yet still the thought repeated itself over and over, countless meanings he couldn't even begin to understand forcing themselves through him as it peered at him. Eyes searching for something.

What for? He couldn't even guess.

Only hanging limp from its metal arms as it turned around, walking back towards the window as darkness claimed his vision.

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I suppose this is still a technically less damaging way to have your third eye opened then in canon. Be sure to be say thank you to Queen Admisntrator for 'Halping' by prying it open with her many otherworldly chitinous limbs Bran! Now you are only slightly mentally scarred instead of physically crippled and mentally scarred.

"Bran, Bran, wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

Screaming, kicking out, he only stopped lashing out when he realized his mother was besides him with his father holding him down to keep him from hitting them or himself.

Heart thundering inside his chest as he took deep calming breaths.

His parents calmed him, soothing him, and even his siblings gathered in his room. It took a long, long time before the household calmed down and even longer for Bran to be able to force himself to try and unwind.

But, even once he'd washed the sweat from his body he still spent the next few hours doing everything he could to convince himself that it was a nightmare, just a silly dream he had because he asked the Septa for scary stories again. Though he would not say anything about the dream itself.

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Oh good it's just a dream/ magic vision! No immediate harm done.

Rather….

He found he couldn't.

Not to his parents, not to his brother or sisters, not even to the walls around.

That monster simply would not let him speak.

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Don't worry I am sure very soon you will have somebody who it will be very enthusiastic that you speak to them about it. Though it might be an interesting walk in the Godswood at the very least.

Bran: So you know who that monster was looking for?
Ophelia: Of course I know her, she's me!
Bran: *GASP*

Finally I just have to speculate. is Bran apprentice a go? Or is he still going to end up with Bloodraven? How will this impact her relationship with the Starks? Will it improve from her saving one of the kids from what to them can only be described as an unknown magical force? Will seeing the true extent of her power as a Witch only make them more suspicious? And most importantly of all will she get to rub direwolf bellies as a reward! So many questions!

 

[Scrimshaw_NSFW]

AN: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, readers across the internet! Wyvern and the Warhawk, Team Scrishaw, proudly brings to you the next installment of the Wicked Witch of the West(eros). An extra large chapter to commemorate the beginning of the long awaited Winterfell Arc!

AtW: Perhaps we're getting our groove back, but I can say all of the drama seriously hampered my will power to keep pushing ahead. I'm glad we did though.

CW: Hopefully we can start getting back some momentum!

AtW: Annnnd depending on certain bits of feedback, we may or may not have something special for QQ planned. So. You know. Let us know if you want the obvious XD (Yes my laughter is nervous, why do you ask?)

CW: Now, without any further ado, on with the reading!

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One Who is Many - Back in Black​

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Jon Snow​

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Adjusting the hem of his blue tunic, the young bastard took a moment to reflect. In truth, Jon liked to think he had a firm grip on the virtues of House Stark.

Even as a bastard, he'd been brought up understanding that someday he would find a duty to dedicate his life too. Something he could do that meant something. An honor he could earn even if his name was "Snow" and not "Stark". As petty as it sounded, he thought that by putting into action the lessons he learned from his father, he would feel closer to being an actual member of the family.

Escorting his sisters and their friend to Septa Mordane was, regrettably, not what he had in mind when he imagined the ideal of the "dutiful protector".

Not that he had anything against it.

Not truthfully.

It just felt… demeaning to do what amounted to a menial task while pretending it was anything other than a menial task. But Lord Stark had asked him to accompany his sisters for the day and it would be a warm day in Winterfell before he thought to disappoint the man who'd done his best for him.

Even if playing escort could grow tiresome.

"Jon? Jon! Are you listening to me? Jooooooooon!"

And there was, of course, Arya to consider.

His youngest sister had been pestering him nonstop, asking whether he had news on the royal procession due to arrive soon. Since he was the oldest person around, of course she would latch onto him rather than Sansa and Jeyne, the latter of whom she admittedly had a less than positive rapport with.

Meaning he had to be the one to keep her occupied until Septa Mordane took her off his hands.

'Gods, aren't we there yet? Why aren't we there yet?'

"They said that there are a bunch of Dornishmen coming along with the King! Do you know anything about that, Jon?"

"Maybe you can ask Septa Mordane to teach you about Dorne today?" He offered hesitantly.

"But she never teaches anything interesting! Besides, I heard there is a witch coming with them. Do you think Septa Mordane is gonna teach me anything about being a witch?"

Well, given how the woman acted when her mood was foul… there was a chance that she could.

But Jon wasn't going to say that.

He already had enough women hating him in his life. There was no need to add a second one. And if asked, that would be his defense on why he didn't suggest that she ask Old Nan about witchcraft instead.

"Arya, what have I told you. That stuff about witches, hidden swords, and haunted castles are just overblown stories. Stuff people tell so you'll be scared of them." Sansa spoke at last, perhaps as annoyed by the younger Stark's inquisitiveness as he was worn out by the repeated questions.

"Well, you never know. Maybe she really is a witch! They say she is the most famous woman in all of Dorne."

Sullenly glaring at her sister, Arya's tone let Jon know that a spat between the two was imminent. Which was something neither he, nor his father, would be interested in dealing with. So he acted.

"They say the bastard-" He didn't flinch when he said the word, didn't glower or snarl or gnash his teeth. "Girl rides on griffins, that she has apes from Southryos, manticores from Essos, direwolves and mammoths and giant hawks. They say serpents that can swallow horses carry her over the sands and that the beasts and birds and even skittering insects will devour any man who looks upon her with so much as a hint of displeasure. That the land of Dorne itself loves her and she will be taken as Dorne's bride, raised up as a New God amongst the Old." He paused and sighed. "I shall refrain from angering Lady Stark by mentioning the less savoury rumors, but I assure you two, she is a girl. Like you are. Maybe not as pretty as you Sansa or as clever, and annoying, as you are Arya." Jon tousled his sister's hair. "But just a girl."

"And what truth, then, lies in them?"

Sansa gave him a small smile. The same kind of smile Lady Stark wore when she looked at him. Somehow it hurt his heart when his sister's face was the one bearing it forwards.

"I can not say. And if I would guess, then I imagine more would be wrong than not. Unless you wish to believe that snarks are just as real as witches are too?"

When the true born girl dipped her head he sighed. Truthfully, Snow hated arguing with his siblings, any of them, even if there were some he was closer to than not. But there were enough unofficial Stark sayings he had heard that he got the point. Infighting leads to death. And even if he was a Snow and not a wolf, well, he had a wolf pup too.

"Come on. The Septa's just down the hall. Let 's go."

Driving the group on, the bastard kept his eyes ahead of him and his mind on the present.

It was one way to not think about everything else going on.

"Septa?" He knocked on the door. "Your students are here?"

The woman in question was sat at a desk, several rather intimidating books before her.

"Thank you most kindly, young Snow." Her tone was a bit dry, but not unkind. Mostly the young man was happy she was polite. Or at least that was what he said to himself. "You may leave now."

Bowing slightly, he turned and smiled to his sisters, faltered slightly when only Arya returned it, and recovered by giving his youngest sibling a wink.

He'd sneak her a honey cake later.

Moving quickly, he reached the more densely populated parts of the castle soon enough. Inclining his head, he greeted the men at arms who were standing watch over the entrance to the residential part of the castle.

"Snow, your father was looking for you." Alyn, one of the household guards stated. "He looked a bit worried, you should go see him, I think he was in the great hall last."

"Thank you, I'll make my way there now."

And just like that, his next task was upon him.

Hopefully one that was less likely to result in him annoying Sansa or Lady Stark. With the king's visit soon upon them, the last thing he needed was a preparatory scolding.

So, putting speed into his step, he focused on maneuvering through the rather crowded hallways as best he could. Not only had the population of Winter Town swollen with the pending arrival of the King's procession, but also with the large body of men recently recruited, both for the Night's Watch and for his father's own household guard.

Ultimately, there was only one thing that still bothered the bastard and that was why his father actually needed more men. Doubly so when so many of the troublemakers in the north were actively being taken care of!

But he would remain quiet.

Jon would do his duty.

Skirting around one of the recently restocked barracks, he nodded to the old men he passed, waved to others that waved at him, and once or twice returned greetings.

Which still boggled his mind a bit.

Even if he understood that there was room enough in Winterfell for a hundred thousand men or more, the reality of only about six thousand was that it seemed… flooded. Of course, more people were starting to pour into Winter Town as they did every time Winter approached, but that was distant enough to not be a constant presence. The increased number of bodies, never mind the additional traffic needed to feed them, in the castle proper was just so unusual as to be disorienting. Though, quietly, Jon had enjoyed the fact that all of them seemed at the absolute worst respectful towards him.

Bastard or no, he'd been treated oddly well by the old men who had come to join the Night's watch.

Proof that they loved Eddard more than they looked down on him.

All of which had been odd, once, but was less so now. After all, Robb looked the part of a Tully, while Jon, well, as he'd been told he was his father's son. Which ultimately led to the new guards standing at the entrance of the Lord Stark's private offices snapping off a salute, waving him inside, and letting the young lad overhear a snatch of conversation.

"-and perhaps we could speak to the king? I know that already much has been given, but still, if Maester Aemon is correct and the records are too then we will need it and more."

In the room was his uncle, who was the man speaking, and his father. Clad in all black, as members of the Night's Watch tended to be, Uncle Benjen was standing somewhat in front of the large fireplace that dominated one side of the room. His father, the Lord Eddard Stark, currently had his back to the entrance - his attention on his brother and not the door.

"Sirs."

Both men turned to look at him, obviously trying to decide how much he had heard and whether or not to continue. The bastard simply chose to stand there, hands clasped behind him, and wait.

It also gave him a few moments to try and put what he'd heard together with what he already knew.

Jon had spoken with his uncle as much as possible since his arrival from the Wall and, though there hadn't been much time for pleasantries, the man always made an effort to spare an hour or two to speak with him. Enough that, when considered with the fact his uncle and father were speaking with either a lord or Maester Luwin more often than not, it meant it was important. And when he wasn't, Benjen interacted with the men who had been brought to Winterfell at his father's request.

To reinforce the Night's Watch, again, along with every criminal that could be forced into it..

That meant that the topic of their conversation was somewhat obvious, but, even if he could guess, the bastard didn't know why. His father had kept the truth close to his chest and when asked, waved it away as a task that was long overdue. Sending more men to take the black as a personal favor to his uncle, who expressed worry that they would soon be short for men and swords.

He, of course, did not question further.

Or rather, he'd offered to go alongside the other men, but received no confirmation.

Even Uncle Benjen had refused to acknowledge his intent to take the black, instead changing the subject in the least subtle way imaginable.

"Lad, what are you doing here?" The comment was not unkind and Jon smiled at his uncle.

"I was told father wanted to speak to me?"

Turning, Eddard Stark nodded.

"Aye. Your sisters are with the Septa?"

"Yes sir." Nodding, Jon's smile turned a little brittle. "Both are with Septa Mordane along with Jeyne Poole, who accompanied Sansa today."

"Good. Good." Turning to his desk, Eddard took the collar of his grey tunic in hand, took a sniff, grimaced, and then continued speaking. "If you don't mind doing me a favor, son, I would have you inform your brothers that the King's party will be arriving by tonight. Catelyn will wrangle the youngest into the bath, of course, but Robb, and Theon too, should be told to get ready. And would you…."

"Make myself scarce? Yes sir."

There was pain in Ned's eyes at Jon's words. Enough the man simply frowned and nodded.

"Robert will want to meet you later on, I suspect, but for the arrival, would you stand with the men at arms?"

"Of course. Is there anything else Father?" Somehow, his chest was hurting. "If not, I'll inform Robb and Theon, I think they're still in the yard." But it was a cold hurt, an old one. He could live with it, as he had for so many years already.

"I…." And for a moment, it looked like his father wanted to say something, perhaps related to the trouble up at the wall. Instead, the Lord Paramount of the North sighed and shook his head. "I love you son. Never forget that."

"I love you too Father. And you as well Uncle."

And with that, he left, going to find his brother and his brother's best friend.

After all, a Stark did his duty.

---

Tyrion Lannister​

---

Many were the ways Tyrion was used to waking up.

Sometimes, after a night of hard drinking and reconsidering the overall worth of his existence, he found himself waking up in a pile of whores. All of whom had been well paid and were warm, soft, and very eager to wake him up with a pitcher of wine and their mouths around his cock.

Sometimes, especially if he had run out of coins, he woke up under a tree. If he was lucky, he'd have a blanket, his things, and not be covered in fleas. If not, well, he'd maybe at least have his clothes.

Sometimes, when the Gods wanted to remind him how much they hated him, he would wake up in a pile of pig shit after a kind passerby decided to douse him in a bucket full of damn near freezing water.

"Now, now little brother, if I didn't know better I'd say you want to prove Cersei and Father wrong." Squawking, disgusted, and confused the Imp tried to avoid falling back over into the excrement and mostly managed to splutter his way to not drowning. "Because from what our dearest sister says, sleeping with pigs is beneath you."

Sprawled out, one arm over the lowest rung of a wooden fence, the blonde haired dwarf looked up at his brother, glared, and then sighed.

"Damn you." Wrinkling his nose, he looked down and gave a curious piglet a scratch of the snout. "My head is pounding."

That got a dismissive snort.

"You, the king, and all the king's friends."

Managing to open a single bleary eye, the drunkard did his best to glare at his too perfect gilded shit of a sibling.

"I don't suppose you have another bucket of water, do you?"

Jaimie simply lifted a second wooden bucket high.

It was an hour later that the dwarf found himself, rather furiously scrubbed clean, lightly shivering under a pile of blankets. Even then, he was a bit feverish and it felt like his extremities were burning, his torso was pricked by pins and needles, and he was sweating like a madman. Worst of all was the fact he was painfully, painfully sober, forcing him to curse at the now empty glass vial his brother had coaxed him into drinking from.

"P-Please br-brother." Barely managing to burrow deeper into the mound of pillows he'd collected during his stay in Winter Town's brothel, he tried to convince his sibling of the necessity of heeding his desperate plea. "Just a s-s-small d-drink."

Not even looking up, the kingsguard turned another page in the book he was reading.

"The witch said no alcohol until the shakes stop." Pausing, he did look up. "And, to quote, 'it will prevent him from dying a mad syphilitic, but it will not unpickle his liver. Gods Old and New know my father is trying to do the same.'"

And just like that he returned to his book.

"W-When d-did you start re-eading?"

Another turned page.

"When our sister made me help with answering Father's letters."

Guffawing, falling over, and then desperately scrambling back under his blankets - and wishing he had been able to fit three pairs of socks on - the Imp couldn't keep the mockery out of his tone.

"You helped th-their plots? Has th-the world gone mad? Have you been c-cursed by the witch?"

Snorting, the kingsguard continued perusing his tome.

"Hardly. I got bored after the third blatantly implied attempt at murder, noticed Robert was trying to hunt a boar when utterly drunk again, so I wandered off. Obara, that's Oberyn's eldest daughter, shared this with me. A nice girl, bit too vicious for most, but I imagine that the North will find her utterly… charming. Brilliant with a whip though."

"W-whips. I c-can't say I'm surprised-d-d our si-ister dearest f-favors them, b-b-but how will sh-he feel about y-your eyes turning a-a-away."

This time his brother actually scowled at the Imp.

"I do not speak of the whips you find yourself lashed by. Rather, the kind that splits skin like an overripe grape" Shrugging, he tried to pretend he wasn't bothered. Tyrion still managed to give him a look that got a groan and, with a sigh, the blonde swordsman tossed what the dwarf could now see was a water dancing manual onto the table. "If anyone favors the Dornish over much, it's the royal family."

Perhaps Tyrion should have considered the value of his existence harder the previous night. Had he known that he'd have drunk himself into such a stupor that he'd wandered into a new realm of fantasy he'd have perhaps stopped at the third pitcher of ale. Admittedly, it was only the third time this week the Imp had passed out, some small progress, but the point stood that things had become genuinely, utterly strange.

"Morning Tyrion." The familiar, chipper voice of Ros called out as she opened the door. "I heard my lord had a ramble around town last night, thankfully things weren't too cold, I would hate for your mighty sword to have frozen off an-" Pausing, seeing the knight in the white cloak, with white scaled armor, blonde hair, blue eyes, and sitting across from the shaking dwarf she did something of a double take. "My lords." And just like that, she fell into a deep curtsy with one hand, the other holding up a tray laden with biscuits, jam, and tea. "I apologize, I brought breakfast."

"Leave the food, then get on. My brother will pay you later."

And just like that, the redhead was scuttling off, the knight chuckling and slathering a flaky biscuit with apricot jam.

The proper response to this situation, of course, was to curse his brother.

"Father's balls, Jamie! She could have warmed me!"

Waving his hand, the older brother dismissed it.

"I'd rather not have to see that truncheon of yours waving about. Besides, the shaking is starting to wear off."

"Your bedside manners are as charming as always, Jamie."

"Well, I could ask Cersei to wake you up next time if you'd rather."

A chill crawled down Tyrion's spine. Because he didn't trust his sister to not try and smother him with a pillow if she caught him asleep. Also, for the single fact that the last time he saw Jamie, he was with Cersei, who was with the rest of the king's merry band of bastards. Both known and unknown. A group which he himself had fled from as soon as he could convince the King to let him ride on North ahead of them for….

What was he doing again?

"Tyrion. I can find a third bucket if you fall asleep on me."

"Gods no, you maniac!"

His brother, who he planned on somehow getting even with, teasingly tossed an empty bucket he'd kept onto the bed. Because of course he brought the damn thing along to torment him the poor, innocent Imp with.

Snorting, Tyrion shook his head.

Even he had to admit that was a bit absurd.

"I'm up, I'm up!"

Laughing, Jaimie took a sip of his tea.

"Shouldn't you be with the Starks? Buttering them up or something?"

"Shouldn't you be with Cersei and the King. Keeping the Seven Kingdoms safe from whatever goes on when there's no wine and they are left alone."

Jamie, the figurative bastard, rolled his eyes at him.

"Well, I'll have you know she's found herself a friend to keep her company."

That got another absurd look from the youngest of the Lannister siblings.

"What? Did you buy her one of those Lizard Lions on the way here?"

"Must you antagonize her like that?"

"Well, she already hates me. All I wish to do is proffer a mirror to her soul."

"You won't have to wait much longer to do that then. She'll be arriving soon enough. Remind me to warn you about her latest scheme before you have to see her."

Tyrion was tempted to ask how soon, but then that would give away his plans to get out of Winterfell before they arrived. Mostly he contented himself with grimacing.

After all, the reason Tyrion had left ahead of the Royal procession was precisely because he was trying to avoid this sort of madness. Between the King, the Dornish Prince, the Queen, and the Witch, Tyrion had figured someone was gonna try something with him. He'd promptly cut his losses and scuppered off straight ahead.

Of course, he'd stopped on the way to recover during his long arduous trip.

Mostly between the bosoms of beautiful women from every kingdom he could find.

And then went on his way.

The plan, to reach the Wall before his Majesty reached Winterfell, was to avoid whatever drama unfolded, and then double back after pissing off of the Edge of the World. Because if he was gonna be drunk and miserable during the trip, it might as well be on his terms and without the figurative and literal snakes surrounding him.

Oberyn Martel hated Lannisters

He was a Lannister.

Cersei hated Tyrion.

And he was Tyrion.

It was simple math really. And of course, he'd heard enough about witches that he didn't want to find out if Oberyn's girl was gonna make a bid for his bits. Who knew, Cersei and the King might actually consider it!

He knew his father would.

If only to be rid of him altogether.

"And they sent you after me? Seems hardly fair." Then again, life in general wasn't fair on him, so he should have realized something like this was going to happen.

"Just to make sure you didn't join the Night's Watch by mistake."

"What? And deprive Father of my continued existence? You must be confusing me with another dashing rogue of lesser stature."

"I'd pay ten golden dragons to see you actually dash, brother."

"Yes, yes. Just let me know when the procession is due to arrive and I'll earn that gold."

That got him a sad sigh from Jaimie before the older brother forged ahead.

"And if you are gone, who do you think will help me keep this visit from turning into a war declaration? Between the King, the Dornishmen, Cersei, and whoever gets too drunk and makes a stupid mistake, this visit has all the markings of a potential disaster."

He had a point, of course. Not that Tyrion would let him know.

"And I'm supposed to help? How? Maybe doing a funny dance will distract the Dornish. Face it Jamie. Between the Royals and the Dornish, we can only handle one side at a time. The King… will do as the King does. Drink and make a nuisance of himself. Ned Stark is his friend, so we won't have to worry about him."

The 'for once', went unstated.

"Oh don't start with the whining Tyrion. You're a people person. You've always known how to get people to do what you want them to do. All I'm asking is that you put this remarkable talent to good use in case someone does something stupid."

Rubbing his face, the dwarf actually felt less… weighed down than he had in years. Enough that his forced clarity was pointing out how important not getting people killed was. After all, if the nation was at war he'd have less time and gold to spend on wine, women, and warm beds.

"Ok." Jaimie's smile turned thankful and relieved and the Imp glared at his brother. "I will do my best, I suppose. But don't expect to be able to keep me sober the whole time!"

Jabbing a finger in his brother's direction, the young man tried to shake off the creeping feeling of slowly growing doom. Like he was about to put himself in the path of a charging stallion.

"Perish the thought! I'll get you a bottle of Arbor Gold and a Dornish Red." Pausing, Jaimie couldn't help but ask one question though. "By the way brother, do you know why there are so many old men at Winterfell?"

---

Nymeria Sand​

---

The North was… certainly living up to the stories. The small wooded copse she and her family were in somehow encapsulating the whole of it. Doubly so as a large bear was currently letting Ophelia and Elia pet it as it ate small berries out of the youngest's fingers - making the girl giggle as its long tongue lapped at her hand.

It was cold, inhospitable, but mysterious in a way Nymeria could appreciate. It was an old slumbering beast huddled comfortably in its cave, waiting for the right time to wake up and prowl its ancestral woods. The same way Dorne was a serpent which moved unseen through the sands. Something that was in the air, the earth, and the blood of the men whom had sprung up from it.

She'd never traveled this far up so the climate was, predictably, an annoyance.

Colder than anything she'd experienced before.

Colder than the windy nights of the desert. Here, the slightest breeze would cut a man to the bone, chill their spirit and freeze their blood like a monster from the legends of old. Or perhaps one of her sister's fantastical tales.

This would be the stage where her family would once more dance with intrigue and deceit. One could hardly expect people to have sufficient time to plan and plot while on the road, so their arrival at Winterfell marked the end of the interregnum and the start of another round of battles.

Which included herself and her family.

Though perhaps not Tyene.

The girl plotted and schemed with every breath and every second of the day. She'd behaved relatively well during their journey, but now the calm which heralded the storm was at an end, and Nymeria would have to watch her younger sister like a hawk lest she pull off another of her stunts without family approval. It was that last bit that made her so dangerous as it meant they had no idea how to react - not that the blonde ever seemed to care.

"Which is why you'll be keeping an eye on her." Nymeria decided, making sure Sarella knew who she was talking to. Who she was talking about was obvious, of course.

"But why me?!"

Sarella was reasonably affronted at the idea.

"Because you failed to watch Ophelia at Harrenhal. Think of this as your penance."

Objectively, the second born of Oberyn Martell knew it was unfair to hold Sarella solely responsible for what had transpired at the cursed castle. It was impossible for any of them to keep up with Ophelia and the middle sibling had even found the fifth child with as much rapidity as she could. But the point stood that she had specifically claimed that she wouldn't let their second most troublesome sister stick her nose into anything that could bite back.

She also needed an excuse to not be Tyene's minder. A task which had been hers during the journey up to this point.

"I already told you, I can't stop Tyene from doing stuff. She doesn't listen to me!"

The third eldest Snake sniffed in disdain.

"You speak as if I'd listen to anyone."

"You do when it's Ophelia." The riposte from the fourth born was as true as it was immediate.

"I can't hide anything from Ophelia. Nobody can. So I might as well tell her what I'm doing."

Unfortunately, Tyene's words were just as obvious and, for them, just as reasonable.

Sarella rounded on Nymeria once again, eyes pleading.

"Let's just have Ophelia watch her then."

She could tell when the adventurous Snake was trying to manipulate her through pity. Unfortunately the girl was much too old to incite the same combination of "fuzzies" Elia could in her sisters.

Ophelia's words, not hers.

"Ophelia will continue her tasks with the Royal Family. Earning their favor and maintaining a good relationship with them has been of paramount importance to our mission. Both the King and Queen favor her in equal measure, and the court holds itself a respectful distance away from us so long as that is the case. Unless you can think of a way to make them favor another of us to such a high degree?"

"Well… I think dad invited them to a threesome?"

Nymeria rolled her eyes.

"Something that won't get our heads on pikes, Sarella."

"Well, what about Obara then? What is her job?"

"Watching father, of course."

"Girls. I am right here."

The entirety of the Martel contingent was. Which was the whole point of this small meeting, to assign tasks and objectives to be handled during their stay on Winterfell. As well as preventing the more volatile elements amongst them from doing anything… unwise. Anything that Tyene and her father would do if left alone, really.

"Of course, Father. Remind me, how was it that you nearly caused a war at King's Landing? Or how many times Ophelia had to stop you from murdering the king? Or how you almost killed no less than three members of the kingsguard for, and I quote, 'being sacks of pig shit'. Or when you romanced a Lady who was married, a Lady Knight with whom you have continued your dalliances for the entirety of this trip, and collapsed the top floor of a brothel doing gods only knows what."

Oberyn pouted, clearly looking torn between taking pride in his escapades and apologizing for making more work.

"In my defense, Obara murdered the only mercenary to witness what happened and one of Tyene had the brothel bought up by one of her little boy toys - and I really must thank you for teaching Sarella so many wonderful words, Ophelia, you do know you can share with the rest of the family, yes?" Oberyn plowed ahead as his daughter opened her mouth, leaving her to just sigh and rest her face in her hands. "And Ser Delilah Waters is a delightful woman. Ellaria will love her."

Every single one of his daughters sighed this time, Nymeria deciding to forge on as best she could.

"Which is why Obara is going to be accompanying you. Please, for the love of the gods, do not seduce any more married women. And please do not seduce anyone who is important enough to get you in trouble. That includes the wives and daughters of smallfolk who might get angry and have a spear handy. Sarella, your duty is to make sure our sister's little friend group doesn't do anything silly and Tyene… I guess just keep on doing what you're going to do anyways." The blonde raised a single eyebrow in response. Nymeria did not take it as a good sign. "Elia will be spending time with the royal children or Ser Barristan, as the man doesn't mind her essentially declaring herself his squire. I will remain with Ophelia as much as possible in the vain hope that nothing will happen. Hopefully, this will keep any of us from being singled out during our stay. It also gives us the most effective approaches to our objectives."

Father and Obara were forceful and unyielding. The perfect face to showcase to the northmen.

Sarella and Tyene were cunning.

They would operate while others looked away.

Elia was much too young to have any stake in their current goals, but would nonetheless be positioned with the Royal children in case something of interest had to be reported or handled by them. While Ophelia was, as always, the beacon which drew the gaze of all who surrounded her.

While she often obviously needed more than one minder, it was Nymeria's intent to pair off with the Witch in the coming venture - or at least to make sure that there was a minder with the too curious for her own good girl at all times.

Her sister would lay her web as she always did and Nymeria wanted to have all the information she could get while acting upon her own agenda. Managing the rest of the Snakes would be a task in and of itself, while making the initial contact with the lords and ladies of Winterfell would be her mission.

Something her sisters were not as suited to.

Ophelia had a strong presence which intimidated all. Obara was not patient enough for mindgames. Tyene reveled in intrigue and deceit when it suited her fancy, but could not be bothered to foster relationships which did not strike her fancy. Sarella was, at her core, a scholar as well as blunt as a hammer.

And while Elia would be able to charm all but the walking dead, Nymeria would not include her unless absolutely necessary.

"And there's really nothing for me to do?"

The youngest Snake present seemed dejected.

"Besides keeping close to the royal children, you are free to interact with the Starks at Winterfell. I've been told they have many younger children. Perhaps you will find friends amongst them."

Friendship wasn't something Nymeria indulged herself in.

Seduction was her forte.

So creating a bond of mutual liking was fine, so long as Elia knew not to let anything slip around them. Having loose lips was fine and all when she sold Nymeria secrets. But not the other way around.

"So, I'm playing nanny." There was definitely a hint of rebellion in Elia's tone but the planner of the group did her best to head it off.

"Think of it as being the grown up in the room. We can't expect the royal children to handle themselves as well as you do."

Thankfully, that seemed somewhat ameliorating. Enough that Elia gave a sharp nod and went back to petting the bear. Meaning it was now Obara's turn to interject.

"With all this planning I have to wonder how spectacularly things will collapse. And if father is going to do as he will and leave me behind." Grunting, she finished whittling away at a piece of wood and placed the half finished thing into a pouch along with a carving knife. "Though we shall at least have a few trinkets to show for our work, if our luck continues to hold up. Ophelia can barely keep her nose out of those books Lady Whent gave you two."

Looking up from said book, the witch in question simply shrugged.

"When I tried to participate before I was shut down. Additionally, I trust Nymeria. She'll get us through this… more or less intact. Mostly. Probably." Pausing, the witch closed her gifted tome. "We are all aware that I'll likely have another vision when we get to Winterfell, yes?"

Nymeria nodded.

"Try not to go streaking this time?"

And this time it was Tyene who cut off Ophelia's response.

"And please don't get hurt again. I know we had this discussion before, but we do get worried."

Ophelia nodded, fingering her long black braid, and picked at the weave.

"I don't do it on purpose."

"Perhaps. But seeing you like that was difficult." Tyene stepped closer to the sister in question and reached out a single hand. "I can only say that I am thankful Sarella was there. If it had been I whom had discovered you, well…."

Taking the hand, the fifth sister nodded.

Nymeria only sighed.

"In front of Father you two?"

Blushing, the witch looked away but didn't remove her hand.

"Well, I suppose I might say something if I wasn't aware that my own discretions weren't so apparent." Coughing and pretending not to notice, the only man there chose to focus instead on the noise coming up to them from the camp they had departed from. "But I do not think it would be wise for me to comment on the tastes and opinions of anyone." Here he paused for a moment, clearly thinking on how to choose his words. "However, I do think it wise to remind you two that not everyone will be so… accommodating as I. And that discretion is advisable."

"Oh, is that what you're worried about father?" Tyene wore a shark's smile and, after a glance at the witch and a hesitant nod from her, the third born seemed to practically delight in her next words. "Don't worry. The queen and her brother seem to be of the same inclination."

Oberyn blinked.

"So that particular rumor is true then?"

"Indeed. The all knowing trouble maker even covered for them with her horse riding lessons." Nymeria's statement won her a glare from the young woman in question. Their shared father simply chose to chuckle.

"Everyone is selling me out then? And I don't even know if this is what I want! I just… well… you know! Is no one going to listen to me on this?"

And Ophelia's desperate pleas earned exactly one response, Elia piping up again now that she was done feeding the bear.

"We've never done that before, why would we start now?"

---

Ophelia Sand​

---

​

Her sister snorred.

Not gentle, cute snores, but great big tent shaking ones.

And that was part of what woke her up.

Ophelia didn't like sleeping alone, so she chose to bear with it. It helped that Obara was the only one of her sisters to seemingly not genuinely care about all the… fun that the witch had gotten into. Her response to being told about the visions and the monsters was to shrug and ask if the curse of Harrenhal would be able to follow them. Then, upon being told that, no, it probably couldn't, she opined that it wasn't worth continuing to worry about.

That had actually helped her sleep a little better and the reincarnated young woman had decided to, for once in her two lives, just roll with something.

While conveniently reserving the right to plot to murder her magical, castle sized dragon enemy later.

So, snuggling a little closer she tried to push back against the stirring camp around them. Peeking through the eyes of a horse, the witch looked around, noticing that the sun wasn't up yet but there was a small commotion. Enough that there was a knot of men surrounding a group of what looked like criminals.

The clanking of weapons and armor and now the shouting of a few of the guards was starting to build. Managing an annoyed sigh, she started to climb free of her sister's arms and sat up.

"I know you're awake."

Obara grumbled.

"How?"

"You stopped snoring."

"I don't snore!"

Indignant protestations were always the most effective way to deny the truth. Ophelia the Teenage Witch just gave her sister a pat on the shoulder. And then pinched her cheek lightly.

"You snore like the king, but that's ok, no one's perfect."

Dodging a half hearted swipe, the once warlord rolled off of her sleeping roll with a giggle, making sure to take care not to damage the bundle of cloth wrapped around her stomach, and stood up. Checking the egg, she found the life within and the smooth, speckled shell to be just the same as before. Slowly growing, without so much as a hint of discomfort, and a lingering desire to be.

"What's going on out there?" Sitting up, Obara let the blanket fall past her waist. Stretching, she instinctively fumbled for her knife belt and started to get dressed. "It doesn't sound like an attack, but it's definitely getting louder."

"Men clapped in irons approached the camp guards." Pausing, the witch scanned the group again. "It looks like they're being led by a man in all black. Perhaps a Brother of the Night's Watch."

"Want to check it out?"

Turning to her sister, Ophelia weighed her options.

"I want to get another hour or two of sleep."

That got her a chuckle and the Dornishwoman sighed.

"In that case, sure."

Now dressed in trousers, leggings, two pairs of socks, boots, a tunic, a pull over jacket, a scarf, and a head wrap - plus her weapons - Obara just winked at her sister and smacked her on the bottom.

"We'll start your training early today. You need to make up for lost time after you got your ego skewered by a bad dream."

Pulling off her sleep wear, the former warlord liked to pretend that she wasn't sore, that her bruises didn't still smart if she moved too fast. But the truth was she knew she was going to be ever worse off if she wasn't ready to give the training her all. And she really, really wanted to get revenge for her sister's revenge for her teasing, which itself was revenge for the teasing the other evening.

But that was just part of being Dornish.

"And stop justifying your attempts at getting even.

And with that parting riposte, Obara slipped out of the tent and started walking off.

Without a doubt, Ophelia was not pouting!

Of course, training doesn't go on forever and even a procession as slow as the one the Dornish were a part of didn't actually take forever to get where it was going. It helped that they'd already been on the road for about three months now, her birthday come and gone, and celebrated with a small, private gathering.

But now… now she stood just a few hundred yards off from Winterfell itself, gazing up in awe at the great castle with her own eyes.

"Hey, are you ok?"

Elia brought her horse over to stand near her dismounted sister, the witch holding her mount's reins in her hands.

"I… yes." Smiling, the witch shook her head. "Perhaps it was a mistake to take in the Red Keep and Harrenhal with the eyes of falcons. It diminishes their grandeur a bit."

Rolling her eyes, the youngest of the snakes simply did what all siblings did best.

"Then it's your fault for being awestruck now. Come on, the queen's wheelhouse finally got unstuck and now the royal party is making its final approach, they even opened the gates and everything."

Urging her mount forwards, the youngest of the Dornish began moving off and leaving the witch to stare in silence for a bit longer, taking in the vista before her.

Unlike Harrenhal or even Moat Cailin, the fortification was itself clearly Northern. Set on a raised hill, though not a mountain proper, the outermost walls easily encircled an area as big as a city itself. She could see the tops of trees, Winterfell's Godswood, in the distance while small buildings clustered around the base of the imposing defenses and around the main gate.

Of the defenses there was a great deal to say. Primarily that there are three, perhaps even four or five, different types of design and improvements. The most basic shape was that of gently sloping grey stone, huge things that she could only make out the details with the eyes of the few birds her ever shrinking range allowed her to snare. These formed a curtain wall, if such a term could be applied to the utterly monolithic fortifications, which stood perhaps as many as eighty feet high.

Moreover, she could make out both matriculations and crenulations and counted at least thirty towers from above, now that she was trying to soar.

Even more than that, there was a dry moat separating the curtain wall and the even taller interior wall, no less than a dozen sequential killing fields, a half dozen internal structures that looked sufficiently fortified to qualify as a keep on their own, and even then the outer walls, raised as they were, had a staked ditch at the base of the raised hill.

All of this was supported by a number of cleared spaces and flat topped towers that she thought might be able to support mangonels or trebuchets or other such weapons. Even then, there were obvious stores of rocks along the covered wooden walkways, a few men along each stretch of the wall, and a steady flow of traffic in and out two of the secondary gates.

And, of course, all of the gates had reinforced houses, barred doors, and iron portcullises.

As she approached with the second part of the party, the king, his family, and their honor guard had gone first, she had time to take in the vast castle before her and the rows of tiny, neat homes. There was an inn and an alehouse and a couple brothels, but it wasn't the tiny village that held her attention.

No, it was the Lord Paramount and his family that she focused on.

The Starks of Winterfell were certainly imposing in their own way.

Covered in furs from the eldest to the youngest, the family was quite large by the standards of her previous life, most couples wouldn't have a literal handful of children. But she'd long since gotten used to having a massive family, so by contrast the Starks seemed almost tame in her eyes.

Not everyone could be Oberyn Martel.

She and her family would also relentlessly mock whoever tried.

There were, of course, more differences to note.

Whereas the Sand Snakes had a fair amount of divergence in their looks and ancestry due to having different mothers, all Starks came in one of two styles. From the shape of their eyes to the color of their hair and even the way they held themselves… with some exceptions.

Amusingly, the youngest girl looked about ready to bolt.

Clearly, she was the normal one of the family. After all, who in their right mind would like to stand still in front of a bunch of strangers backed up by the literal King of their nation. Ophelia certainly wouldn't have cared if she were in their shoes.

Now then… what were their names again?

'Eddard, Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.'

Those were the names Nymeria had spent half the morning hammering into their heads until they could tell which was which at a glance. From their age, to their overall features as well as behavior, her older sister had been thorough in her studies of the Starks while preparing them for the meeting.

Not that Ophelia cared.

She was here to look mysterious and intimidating, after all, not to gush over how adorable the youngest siblings were standing next to each other like that.

'Such pinchable cheeks.' It finally struck her that she might be missing her littlest sisters quite a lot lately.

There were also a very, very distinct distraction for her to grapple with too.

One of the Starks,the second youngest of the boys, Bran she thought, felt… oddly familiar. And not in the way where she thought she'd possibly killed someone related to him. But almost like there was an aura around him she should recognize.

For some reason, it made her sad and a little wistful.

Watching as Prince Joffery, her father, King Robert, and Queen Cersei rode onto the grounds of Winterfell, Tommen and Myrcella having both fallen asleep in the wheelhouse, the witch ignored the king's jest, Eddard Stark's response, and how the queen actually looked almost sympathetic when Robert asked her if she minded getting the children settled while he visited the late lady Lyanna Stark.

It was a small reminder that there were many, many people in this world that carried their own stories. Their own victories and failures, ghosts and dreams and nightmares.

Perhaps it might not have involved an alien god like Zion, perhaps it might have been a smaller, more personal struggle. But seeing how a king could be brought low by memories of a woman he loved, how even her own irrepressible father could refrain from joking out of respect for the loss, it was sobering.

'Perhaps I could ask Father about Lyana Stark, then. A woman like that must have been spectacular.'

---

Oberyn Martell​

---

"Lord Stark, I am glad you were willing to make time to speak with me."

Oberyn Martell sipped at the mead he'd been offered - a strong, rich brew made of fermented honey and other northern staples - and relaxed in front of a large, crackling fire. His tunic was open at the chest and his coat was draped over the high back of the chair he was sitting in. Smirking, he turned his easy grin to the ever stoic Lord of the North and let his teeth flash in the low, flickering light.

"Of course my prince. I am surprised, but glad, that you have come to Winterfell."

It was obvious that the man's wife had coached him in Southron manners. A small thing that would be important when one considered just how many people from so many realms had arrived.

The Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne all had their little parties and contingents and emissaries. Even the Westerlands had nominal representation in Jaimie Lannister and newly recovered dwarf-heir to Casterly Rock. That the man had been staying just ahead of the royal party and remained almost perpetually drunk was… immensely amusing. Letting that amusement color his tone, because what he was planning on discussing was obviously going to be anything but pleasant, the prince stretched his grin just a tiny bit wider and launched directly into the offensive - glad Obara wasn't here to stop him, stuck as she was getting settled in with her sisters.

"When I came North, I wondered if I should love you or hate you." Pausing to drink again, the Red Viper was immensely pleased when the other man froze in the midst of lighting a candle. "After all, you killed Ashara's brother and murdered her by stealing your baby." Sighing, he leaned forward, resting his head on his hand. "But I see that you have loved Jon, even as your Lady Wife hates him, though I find it sad he knows nothing."

Lord Stark's hand shook for a moment before lighting the candle he had intended to, using it to fill the room properly with illumination.

"I did not mean to… take her will to live. Ashara Dayne was a woman I deeply, truly loved."

"Of course, of course. I do not wish to imply that my lord did not love the woman who stole his heart." Oberyn nodded at the northman lord. "And I must confess I loved her too, though as a sister and not a woman. But Ashara was not like my own sister or me or even her brother. Had it only been Arthur who had died, or Elia, or her son taken from her I do not doubt she would have survived, but not all three."

Having sat down, there was a mix of anger and pain and a good deal of resignation in the older man's eyes. But mostly there was a wary kind of caution about him and in his words.

"My duty was always to the North." Speaking carefully, it was clear that Eddard was doing what he could to keep things from escalating. Oberyn found it amusing. "My own desires, one way or another, died in King's Landing and rests in the crypts of Winterfell."

Nodding, the prince agreed.

"A mad king and a sudden trimming of the family tree does tend to cause such things, yes."

What went unsaid was that he understood exactly what that felt like and the gentle rebuke quickly dawned on the Lord Stark.

"Aye. That it does. I… you said that I had murdered Ashara, for that I can not argue even if I do not agree, but you said I killed Ser Arthur?"

Nodding, the Dornishman accepted the change of topic.

"Slew him and his brothers Ser Whent and and Ser Hightower. Built cairns for them and your fallen comrades from the Tower of Joy and carried your sister's body home. There, you did your duty." Waving his hand, he took another drink. "I do not blame you for that. Only taking a second sister from me. That is why I wished to speak with you."

Frowning, the old lord moved very, very carefully.

"And I am aware of the oaths you swore against the men who took one sister from you. Do I need to be worried about my family? About myself/? Or are the bonds of guest right enough."

It wasn't a question, but a warning. And there was force behind it too. Enough to actually draw a chuckle from the prince who crossed his legs and reclined, finishing his drink.

"If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. And if I wanted to make your family suffer then your wife would be speaking with my beautiful daughter Tyene right now. No, I wish to ask your blessing to take Jon Snow as my squire."

Blinking, the Stark patriarch took a second to rally before responding.

"At the moment the lad is committed to joining the Night's Watch. While I may think he could do well squiring for you, he is also Northern and we do not have knights here as you do in the south. But I must say that a direwolf does not do well in the heat of a desert."

Pouring himself another cup full, the Prince chose his words with as much care as he ever did.

"If you let the boy join the Night's Watch without ever having lived life, I will kill you."

Lord Stark made a noise of objection, clearly growing angry and Oberyn simply snarled at him.

"Whether or not you have treated him like a son, you have no right to let him freeze to death! Your own blood may yet flow but Ashara's does not! No, her lifesblood cooled on the rocks upon which she threw herself. Her brother's dried in the sands. The Dayne's number five, only two of them able to continue their line. And if Jon is your child, he is a Sand, not a Snow, and a Star as much as he is a wolf! What respect I owe you ends where you fail to keep your wife from browbeating the boy into submission, it ends where you might let him damn himself to a frozen Hell, and it ends where I can do something to alleviate his suffering."

Reclining in the chair once again, Oberyn let the anger slip from him, returning to his almost friendly tone from before.

"Jon Snow may have all the situational awareness of a newborn lamb, but my daughters, well, one of them is a spear, another a gilded tongue, a third a Viper, a fourth a sharpened quill, a fifth… there is no hiding secrets from the fifth. Amusingly it was Elia who found all this out, my sixth, she simply followed him when he went to train and overheard his complaints as he smashed a training target to pieces."

Another sip to soothe his parched throat.

"You really do need to improve your security, especially with another thousand or so men in your castle now. Do you Starks normally host so many of the old and dying persuasion?"

Once more, anger, shame, and plain confusion warred in the Lord's face, Eddard clearly having no idea how to handle what was going on. As such, he defaulted to Northern bluntness.

Something which Oberyn greatly preferred, even if he appreciated the earlier effort, if only because something as trifling as manners was a bit of an enjoyable waste of time.

"I have never been spoken to like that before." It was clear that the Northman's ire had been raised. "Not in my own home, not even by my worst enemies." He was practically grinding his teeth. "If it was not that your position was to defend Jon, I would demand satisfaction."

"Like I said my lord, I came North willing to love you or hate you." Knocking back the rest of his second cup of mead he stood. "My point is that you have allowed a rot to seep into your house and you do not demand the same respect for one of your sons as you do the rest."

Sighing, Lord Stark shook his head.

"Get out of my office. I shall tell Jon about your offer. Do not be seen until the feast tonight."

Picking up the bottle he'd been drinking from, the Dornishman gave his host a salute.

"As you command my lord!"

And just like that he left the room, glad he'd meant to achieve what he needed to without drawing blood. Stabbing people was always more fun but he promised his brother he wouldn't cause too much trouble and Oberyn did try to behave. Mostly.

'Maybe if I ask with all the right words, he will consider crossing swords. I would very much like to test Serpent's Kiss against Ice.'

Of course, the right words usually consisted of biting remarks and insults to get his opponent's in the mood for a rousing round of trying to maim each other for honor and sport. A favorite pastime of Oberyn's and time honored tradition across the Seven Kingdoms.

"Now, to find the little Lord Dayne. Eddric is Jon's milk brother after all and the two should meet."

Just another one of the tasks he had set aside for himself over the course of this journey.

Of course, it wasn't like he knew that they would accompany the King up North, but it became apparent after his sweet daughters worked their usual magic that it would be the inevitable outcome.

And Oberyn was nothing if not an indulgent parent.

Especially when it allowed him to face people he wanted to rant at. And even more so if during the course of this long journey he happened to cross paths with a most extraordinary young woman with the strength of a dozen men.

How could he have resisted?

Not very much.

Ellaria would be delighted to meet Dame Waters once he returned to Dorne. She was always fond of the mysterious, silent and strong types. And of course, the two would take the opportunity to induct the knight into their admittedly very broad circle of paramours. Just thinking about all the fun that would entail drove a shiver of delight down his spine.

All because of the cold weather, of course.

Maybe he should look for a bed to warm himself? Preferably one with a warm body already included.

It would take some time to settle matters over Jon Snow. And Oberyn was sure that Nymeria or Tyene would bring anything of grave importance to his attention if need be. His second eldest had a way of taking over for her father on matters of political intrigue. Something she inherited from her mother in full.

Obara had inherited the vengeful streak of her mother, Tyene her mother's seeming innocence, and Nymeria her mother's gift for simply handling people. Oddly, Sarella hadn't quite inherited her mother's extreme wanderlust and Ophelia had only inherited her eyes and a sickly constitution from her mother - and the latter hadn't reared its head since before she had flowered.

In truth, he was aware of just how lucky he was.

How most people lost at least one or two children during difficult births or chance, yet he had almost a dozen beautiful daughters who were strong and brave and clever!

Out of all of them it had only been Ophelia whom had ever truly been at risk of death, that damned scorpion still gave him nightmares from time to time, and she had turned out to be the most powerful of his children by far!

"Bah. These depressing Northmen are getting to me." Shaking away the last of the melancholic thoughts and his lingering fears the Dornishman firmed his spine. 'Now, to go find Robert… or Delilah.' Snorting, he shook his head. 'My lady love of course. Besides, we have enough time for, hmm, three rounds? Four if my form is excellent tonight. Yes. That sounds delightful!'

Moving with a purpose, the Red Viper of Dorne - who might be better known as the perpetually horny goat from the sandy place down south - was most eager indeed!

---

Ophelia Sand​

---

Well, they were a few hours into the welcome feast and Winterfell remained unspoiled and unburnt.

It must have been her lucky day.

The royal procession had taken their time getting settled after greeting Lord Stark and his family as was customary. Much to her pride, Ophelia had kept from pinching the cheeks of the youngest as her older sister's instincts demanded of her. A mark of personal growth, as Elia and the younger sisters could attest to.

Ophelia's cheek pinching technique was legendary.

On the same level as elderly septas, she was told!

Unfortunately, there had been a great deal more ceremonial wasting of time before the Sand Snakes could retire to their quarters. A lady needed time to look her best, after all. And considering that this would be their home for at least the next week then it was worth it to make an impression.

That was why they had all gone for the best clothes they had with them.

Obara was wearing what amounted to a hunting suit - thick wool breeches, a calf length brown tunic that matched her hair, and had both belted around the waist with a knotted white silk cord. Woven into the cord was a series of copper suns that caused it to sit on her hips and served as a connection point for her to rest a pair of long daggers on one hip and her whip on the other.

Her brown hair was worn in a loose braid, woven by Elia, and held by a series of small, bronze clasps that was matched by the loose coat of wool and linen backed decorative bronze scales she wore to keep warm.

Nymeria had gone for something far more traditionally feminine, though her initial garment had to be slightly adjusted because of the chill of the North.

The primary component of the ensemble was an ankle length yellow and red dress made of silk damask. It sat heavy on her shoulders and the normally loose, rather suggestively cut evening gown found its shape filled out by two layers of linen underclothes, both pure white, that went from Nymeria's navel up to her collarbone. Instead of her more normal… undergarments, Ophelia's second eldest sister was actually wearing riding breeches as they clung tightly enough to her form not to disturb the dress itself but had enough bulk to them to hide the concealed knives she'd secreted about her person - tainted with something painless and disturbingly fast acting of course. Finalizing the garment were a pair of earrings, small bronze studs, and a pair of rings - these being red gold with a pair of yellow diamonds set in them.

It was rather on the nose House Nymeros Martell coloration, but no one else was subtle and neither was the lightly perfumed Dornish cloak she had wrapped about her body.

Plus it kept people's eyes on the showy one of the group, the small amounts of kohl and blush all it took to turn Nymeria from "merely" an exotic beauty to a sensual mistress of desire.

All the better to stop people from noticing Tyene in the witch's opinion.

Like Obara, the third sibling had forgone a dress. However, this time there was no compromise between appearance and pragmatism. Tyene had gone for something that was nearly as scandalous as showing up naked and was only less so because she had worn her modified septa robes before.

Because right now she was dressed like a page or a particularly comely squire. Lightly powdered cheeks, her hair in carefully curled ringlets that fell past her shoulders, and wearing a blue tunic that fell just to the top of her knees along with white hose. It was a very, very small compromise for the sake of tact, which was blown out of the way by her men's slippers - the masculine garment completing the image of a young, highborn man, but at least she'd been talked into wearing full body underclothes beneath the costume.

She wanted to make a statement, not spend a night in the dungeons for causing a disturbance with only her light blue linen cloak for warmth.

Out of all of them, Tyene was the most heavily armed with an arming sword belted at her waist and a dagger Ophelia knew was poisoned with something painful and fast acting.

'It's probably necrotic as well.'

Focusing on the agonizing death her sister might cause was, of course, paramount. Because said sister had gone to great lengths to let the witch drink in every detail of her body as she first undressed, in an admittedly… sensuous manner, and then redressed.

Sarella, at least, had been practical about things. Aside from a leather harness holding a pair of knives under her garment of choice, she was rather conservatively dressed in a purple silk dress. It went from her ankles up to her throat, was embroidered with small serpents devouring their own tails about her waist, and was completed by a pair of gold armlets. All of this was protected by a heavy woolen cloak that, even now, the dusky skinned Dornishwoman had tight about her shoulder.

Ophelia actually took a good measure of pride in how precisely she'd managed to feather her sister's hair. While she was hardly a beautician, impossible precision and preternatural knife skills did help a bit when it came to fixing up one's 'do.

Elia had gone for something endearingly childish and something that actually wouldn't cause a stir, for as bold as it was the fifth of the Snakes was yet a child. She too was dressed like a squire, though not nearly as suggestive as Tyene was. No, she wore thick black wool trousers, a tunic of red and gold over, and a thick scarf of cotton over a layer of thick undergarments. This was also completed by a black dyed jacket embroidered with cloth of gold stags.

This particular piece had been gifted to her by Robert in a fit of whimsy. That it only needed a little taking in had been lucky and none of the Snakes had anything but approval for it.

The Lady Lance did have a particular fondness for men's clothing and anything even slightly fancy that she didn't object to wearing was a Gods sent mercy.

Choosing to lean into her reputation, Ophelia had decided to go with "amusingly appropriate" as her own theme. A black dress whose collar actually curved up the sides of her jaw and fell past her ankles to brush against the tops of her feet was decorated with tiny silk stars. Woven in dark blues, purples, and greens they covered the whole of the dress, but were only noticeable when one looked for them. If the observer had an eye for constellations they'd notice all of the usual ones, in their astrographically correct positions, along with a number of more esoteric designs. This being one of her own pieces meant it was a single, seamless whole and practically clung to her body. Across her chest and down her shoulders were a particular chain of alchemical symbols that actually covered the process of the basic stages of the production of various alchemical fires in shades of red silk indicating the potency with the brighter, more potent symbols trailing up her arms and around her collar bone before crossing over her shoulder blades. Now the piece was neatly completed with a number of white symbols detailing the creation of wildfire in an unbroken runic band made from raw silk that wrapped around her throat.

While the new additions were smooth and flawless, it was also a bit bold of her to loudly broadcast such secrets openly. However, when neither the old healer Robert - the man whom they'd met at Harrenhal - nor Marwyn had been able to dissect them she felt it was only… somewhat arrogant.

Enough that she had to complete the garment with a chain of gold moons that she let rest around her hips, each different link being the moon in a different phase, and ended the whole ensemble with a Dornish head scarf. This wasn't so much as to cover her hair, which fell down her back in a single wave, bundled with a silk cord fixed with a Valyrian steel clasp - made for her by Gendry and given to her by a chuckling Master Mott.

That it was shaped like a sunburst and engraved with the form of a woman made it clear who it was meant for.

"You know, I do worry dear sister of mine." Tyene appeared behind her, the blonde wrapping her arms around Ophelia's waist. "With a man's jewelry now adorning you, the eyes of so many lords… and ladies upon you, well, I worry for your virtue."

Snorting, Ophelia tried not to ruin the small amount of make up she'd meekly sat still for.

Nymeria was simply far and away superior to her in that regard and many others.

Still, there was only one response to Tyene that could be made.

"Dear sister of mine, you are the one my virtue is most in danger from." A light kiss told the poisoner that the witch meant nothing by the words but no more passed from them, Tyene squeezing her stomach lightly and pulling away. Now, after all, was not the time for games.

'Not these games at least.'

"Elia, sit still. You won't impress Ser Barristan if your hair falls into the soup. Besides, if you really want to be his squire, or at least pretend like it for the duration of this trip, then you're going to need to get used to this kind of thing." Nymeria was fussing with Elia's own braid, trying to get the youngest Snake present to let the second eldest pin it down.

"Eddric just gets to shave his head!"

The pout was audible.

"Yes and he's a boy that sleeps in the mud and cleans up horse crap. Do you want to spend your time doing that, or would you rather play with your friends?"

Grumbling, the twelve year old tried to dodge the question.

Nymeria just pinched her cheek.

"Use your words."

Trying to bat away her sister's hand, Elia gave in.

"I want to play with my friends."

"Then you will not shave your head and you will let me braid your hair."

As for the rest of their preparations, those were simple. Checking weapons, organizing the room they had been given - the Sand Snakes had once more decided to share a room for a number of reasons - and letting Ophelia check on their father.

"You're making the face again."

Sarella chuckled at her and Ophelia tried not to retaliate by vividly describing what she was aware her parent was currently doing.

"He and the new woman are probably making us another sister. Mostly I was checking to see why I could smell multiple people in the area. There is a non zero chance that a serving girl was pulled into bed with them."

Obara grunted and lightly bumped her shoulder.

"Don't worry too much, sister, we all know you'll dote on the baby as soon as you can."

Pretending that she didn't hear what her sister was saying, the reborn warlord simply gathered the hem of her dress, once more downplayed the fact that she wasn't cold, if only because she still hadn't figured out why, and led the way to the next bit of ceremonial time wasting the Sand Snakes were going to get to enjoy.

Perhaps ten minutes later the group of bastards found themselves outside the main entrance to the great hall of Winterfell.

Slightly late, they were greeted by a pair of rather surprised guards - understandable considering Tyene had her clique of followers, Nymeria had a pair of lords already squabbling for her attention, Sarella was being escorted by her… alleged rival Anguy, and Obara was Obara and had actually been escorted by one Ser Robar Royce. Elia had, of course, run ahead to attend to Ser Barristan as the perhaps slightly over indulgent knight permitted her to.

And no Ophelia was not a hypocrite and she did not spoil her younger siblings any more than was absolutely necessary.

Just like how she was no more paranoid than was absolutely prudent and practical.

'I suppose I'm a little disappointed by how paltry my swarm truly is.'

At the moment, her range was shrinking, enough that it was less than it was in her last life by a fair margin. Standing in the hallway outside of the great hall she had a few dozen birds scattered throughout the room itself, a number of hounds and cats and rats enjoying the entertainment as they normally would, and a few dozen beasts watching the ways in and out - but that was it.

Her powers simply couldn't stretch further than they currently did and every insect of value she'd been able to gather were either hiding in her bed - watching over the egg which she had poured her energy into before coming - or happened to be secreted in various hiding spots on her body. Even the couple hundred venomous spiders she had were starting to truly suffer in the northern weather.

But that would simply have to be enough.

"Come on! I know you want to play with the giant puppies, but they belong to the Starks and you can't just break into the kennels. That's the kind of thing that causes problems!"

Grabbing her by the hand, Sarella, already having kind of left her escort floundering - and in the company of a cute redhead - pulled the witch out of her reverie.

That meant the duo was the first of the Sand Snakes to enter the hall proper, the meal having started its first course and Robert having gotten it all going in as blunt a manner as was possible.

Coming into the room, a wall of sound practically knocked her off her feet as she realized just how many people had been crammed onto a series of nine tables. One sat at the far end of the hall on a raised platform, this one for the high lords and visiting notables, and was occupied by the royal family, Ophelia's father, Dame Delilah Waters - the woman he was currently so infatuated with, the Starks, Tyrion Lannister, and a bemused looking Brynden Tully. Notably, Lords Peyne and Bracken hadn't won an invitation to dine with the king but, instead, sat at the heads of the nearest of the eight tables that filled the center of the room.

Of the additional notables, the Kingsguard was on duty and in their full regalia, Sandor Clegane loomed in the shadows behind the crown prince, Lords Dondarrian and Dayne had also won seats close to the high table - though it seemed the elder of the two was more interested in drinking with a giant of a man Ophelia suspected was Lord Umber.

"I see my target."

Sarella glanced over at her and followed her gaze, giving her a shake of the head.

"Leave the poor man alone. You've practically broken the red priest."

Raising an eyebrow, the witch made a gesture that seemed to communicate the idea of obvious incredulity.

"Who? Me? How can you level such slanderous accusations against your own blood!"

Going through a series of expressions, the archer settled on resigned and somewhat pitying.

"You know he feels partly responsible for what happened to you at Harrenhal. Don't make him hurt any more, ok? Don't… don't do what Tyene would."

Flinching slightly, the witch opened her mouth to retort before, slowly, closing it. Because the truth was that her plan had been to poke at him, maybe pry a few more bits of information out of him and ply him with liquor. And that was wrong. Evil. Fucked up.

"I'm going to be witchy. But I'm not going to be bitchy."

Snorting, the elder sister squeezed her hand and Ophelia knew she was forgiven.

"And you say you don't want me picking up your lingo. Go on, I trust you. I'm gonna go ruin Anguy's night because he's way too quick to jump at the first pair of tits to look his way."

Smirking, the once conqueror couldn't help the sense of schadenfreude that was boiling up in her.

"Want me to drop a few spiders down his shirt?"

Pulling away, Sarella performed a mildly rude gesture and left a chuckling teenager to consider the best way to approach an old man in the middle of a loud party. Deciding that valor was the better part of discretion, she identified Marwyn, though not Robert, at the feast.

Maneuvering through the crowd she took notice of what her siblings were doing - Elia wrestling with a few boys her age and showing them why you fought dirty, Sarella already dragging her "not boytoy" towards one of the tables, Tyene trading thinly veiled insults with a Lord's wife, Nymeria was dancing with a pair of pretty young noble women, and Obara… Obara was dragging a Northman out of the hall after beating the poor bastard in an arm wrestling contest by using her foot to do something under the table. With a rather tipsy looking Lord Royce being pulled along with her other hand.

'Poor buggers.'

She spotted a few others running around - Lancel and the king's other squire waiting on Robert - but the room was actually a largely even mix of Northerners and members of the royal procession - perhaps six hundred and fifty men and women total - along with the staff and servants of the Stark household.

On the whole, the only other face of any import she couldn't spot was the Darkstar. Gerold, like Healer Robert, was simply not at the feast. So, thinking on it, she made her way to Marwyn and tapped him on the shoulder, drawing him away from his drinking companions.

'That feels important. I must be missing something.'

Falling onto the bench next to Thoros, Ophelia reached beneath the table and took a bottle of Dornish Red, originally intended for the high table and now secured by a frisky cat and a dutiful hound, she popped the cork of the near brandy and filled the Red Priest's cup.

"No questions today gentlemen. But I do want to celebrate magic in all its glories… especially from the bottom of a cup."

At first the men around her were confused, both at her and at the very fine wine she was now pouring quite liberally. And then she simply snapped her fingers at a servant and gave them a look. That alone was enough to have them scrambling to bring more and stifled any possible objections to a beautiful young woman forcing herself into a rather heavily masculine space and, once the drink was flowing again, the tension her forced arrival caused quickly dissipated.

Not that she was indulging quite as much as they were.

A single glass of undiluted Dornish Red - Arbor Gold was for Reachmen who couldn't handle a truly refined drink - and then only watered wine after. Getting black out drunk wasn't in her plans tonight and, even if she was cutting loose a bit, perhaps even letting her magic slip a little too when she had the cats start dancing along to the music alongside the humans, there was still no excuse for making a fool of herself.

Indeed, this was a most pleasant welcoming feast for the King. Who, of course, demanded that their entire delegation be supplied with hangover cures - allegedly to confirm the quality of Ophelia's potions. Mostly so that he and his drinking companions could have a truly massive blow out of epic proportions.

"A dwarf, a king, a prince, and a Northman try to drink a castle dry." Thoros murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "A priest, a witch, and a mage are there too." Sipping at his wine, not pounding it, the red priest kept speaking. "And not a single piece of gossip."

Ophelia inclined her head.

"It occurs to me I am much too eager to pry into the business of others.

Two large northmen climbed on top of the table, holding one another and drunkenly roaring out an ode to Robert's drinking prowess, his magnanimity, and the size of his "warhammer".

"Perhaps." Thoros of Myr nodded. "And perhaps I have been a weak old man for too long."

"If old men aren't allowed to be weak then I shudder to think what standards I might have to measure up to." Ophelia chuckled and shook her head.

"My dear, before you continue attempting to apologize - allow me to stop you." Marwyn interjected. "While you might be suffering from a great deal of vestigial morality, I would much rather we acquire the secrets of the Red Priests."

Raising an eyebrow, the witch did her best not to let her tone grow too dry.

"You may not have many more nights worth of sleep to lose, old man, but I would like to avoid crows feet for a few more years at least."

"Come now lass." This time it was Thoros who spoke, chuckling. "Where's the fun in being young if you can't break all of the rules?"

Sighing, Ophelia did the only thing she could.

"Gods help me. I'm trying not to act like my sisters."

Both of the older men laughed uproariously while a few of the others nearby, all of them being Northmen, pointedly tried to not look too hard at the witch now that they'd realized who she was. It was almost flattering how one of them kept glancing at her chest - what she had for him to try and ogle at least.

Sometimes it was nice being reminded that she had looks Emma would have slit Madison's throat for. At least so long as she was the one who held all the power in the room.

"How about this. Why don't we just agree to start fresh. I don't manipulate you, you don't break your vows. Fair?"

Thoros shook his head immediately, shooting Ophelia down.

"Sorry Witch Girl, but it doesn't work like that." Once again he sipped his drink, making a point to go slow and savor the red wine. "What's done is done. And we have a deal."

Once more interjecting, Marwyn agreed.

"It may sound like a kind thing to do, but what you and he have spoken of is already too much."

Glaring at the mage, the priest shook his head.

"Even if you're right, don't remind me. No. I shall still teach you, as was agreed upon. But this time I shall do it because I choose to do it." Closing his eyes, the once lusty and raucous mercenary seemed to sink in a little. "And because, perhaps, it shall be needed."

"A vision." Marwyn's words were so low they were almost lost in the roar of the crowd and Thoros glared at the man and shook his head.

"Don't call it that."

"Since Harrenhal." Ophelia nodded slowly. "That's why you didn't drink for three days."

"Spying on me Witch Girl?"

Laughing, she brushed the implications away.

"No, I just noticed you didn't smell like fermented grapes for the first leg of the return journey."

And so like this the feast passed, Ophelia doing her best to relax, contenting herself to trade barbs with the other magicals, then with some of the nearby Northmen. This led to a few making fools of themselves when they tried to test her to see if she was a real witch - and nearly getting their beards singed off for their trouble. Ironically, it had been her temper that had won her more friends than anything else.

Apparently not taking crap from anyone, regardless of who you were, was a trait the First Men still admired to this day.

Ophelia approved.

More than she did about the king loudly promising hangover cures to any man who had his favor. Something which led to a great deal of drunken boasting, then a bit of fighting, then the Lord Stark bodily picking one of his bannermen up and throwing him back into the crowd when the foolish young lord had tried to approach the high table.

A crowd that then carried said young, foolish man over to the door of the great hall, out past the entrance to the keep, and dumped him - face first - into a snow drift.

Of course, none of that stopped Robert from liberally handing out the glass vials - keeping a flask of her potion for himself - to any and every who would "risk the witch's miracle brew."

Which was now all but gone….

'Maybe I should warn him about it?' It would be the just and righteous thing to do.

…

But not the most entertaining.

Doubly so now that Robert had just raised another toast and drained another flagon of ale in celebration of the fact that her father had gotten Dame Delilah Waters with child - there would be another Sand Snake in eight months or so, and the mother to be was the only person at the high table who did not drink to that.

Coincidentally that was the toast when she saw her father start to waver in his seat a bit, no longer able to fully support himself as he drank and danced and cheered with all the more fervor - ever ecstatic to add to his family.

And it just so happened that the famous Witch of Dorne had inherited some of her father's infamous sense of humor. It was ever so delightful to watch someone hang themselves with the rope you offered to them in good faith. Especially when her father forgot to inform her that she would have a new sibling to spoil and look after.

By tomorrow morning she would be sure to let the King know he was down to his last flask of potion… and that the poor prince had used all of his.

The Queen would share in her amusement, Ophelia was sure of it. Doubly so considering that Good King Robert, upon realizing just how handsy he was getting with some of the Stark serving girls had, in his drunkenness, scooped his royal wife up and deposited her on his lap.

Neither Cersei nor Jaimie had been pleased at that, but the suspiciously still loyal, and slightly nervous, Tyrion Lannister had actually seemed rather exquisitely amused by the whole thing.

Unfortunately for the queen, the two estranged royals would have to keep up appearances by tolerating one another for the foreseeable future - though they had been, blessedly, given separate rooms. After all, Winterfell could host a hundred thousand strong army, a bit of extra heating for the Royal Family wasn't even an issue.

All of this jovialness, the singing, the seven course feast, the drinking, the minstrels performing and the jugglers and acrobats and the dancing - which Ophelia had found herself being forced into partaking in - had somewhat gotten to her.

It was when she was cheek to stomach with the Greatjon Umber himself, the blasted half giant practically spinning her around the room, that she realized something.

She was having fun.

The Witch of Dorne was laughing as she flew through the air… and she was having fun.

Immediately the urge to investigate every nook and cranny in the castle slammed into her. Something was obviously going to happen soon and not knowing what it was made the normally omniscient Witch feel like she was half blind and half deaf without the full backing of her swarm. Even worse, it was obviously going to be proportional to the amount of fun she was having now and that meant it was going to be violent, explosive, and someone that was important might lose their life.

It didn't help that the cold weather did wonders to limit the number of critters available to create a new swarm. And her ever reduced range wasn't much help either. Only after a few days would she be able to have the full picture of Winterfell - and even then her exploration would be limited by the reduced size of her swarm and the temperature.

Low temperatures were hell on earth for bugs and those remained her most useful tools.

But it was when she had finished a second dance with her father that exhaustion truly claimed her. Stuffed to the brim, ever so slightly buzzed, and enjoying the high of physical exertion she waved goodnight to her dinner companions - the dozen northern lords she'd come to know all cheering for her as she left - and waved goodbye to the high table too.

Curiously, as she looked through the eyes of her Swarm, she noticed that the queen and Tyene had both retired as well. The children, squires and pages included, had been put to bed two courses ago and Lady Stark had retired with her children as well. But Ophelia had missed when her sister and Cersei had left. Tapping into the senses of a few of the hounds, she slipped down a few passageways and made her way towards where she could detect them both - already wondering on how she should approach both her father and Dame Waters about the newest addition to the family. Obviously, the lady knight was an unknown, but her sire was deeply taken with her. Enough that anything too overt would not only be rude, but could run the risk of causing discord between the two and that was simply unacceptable.

It only occurred to her once she had arrived that she was entering the private area of the royal family, receiving a polite nod from a pair of Lannister house guards. And that she was even more specifically in the queen's wing. Which was segregated from the rest of the area.

"Come in Ophelia."

Hand raised at the doorway to knock, she paused, swallowing, only the knowledge that the two weren't… indisposed allowed her to turn the knob and ignore the vague feeling of dread.

"How did you-"

"Know it was you?" The witch was floored when she entered and snapped her jaw shut. "Simple my dear. Robert would have stumbled into his bed to pass out, Jaimie would have made more noise coming down the hallway, and it's not your father that would pay me a late night visit."

Lounging before her was something she knew men would have killed to be able to simply see. Or even to just glimpse one blonde or the other, never mind them both!

"So. What's going to happen now?"

 

[XelianEmperor]

That was 16k words of nothing happening and ending with a cliffhanger

 

[Windborne]

Glad they finally got to the North. Huh, Jon getting picked up as a Squire is interesting. Hmm, I wonder if Ophelia picked up on QA visiting Bran. Who I was shocked to find out was the other reincarnation, if QA can even do that. She was the other reincarnation right?

 

[Yupthisisforporn]

That was 16k words of nothing happening and ending with a cliffhanger

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There WAS going to be a NSFW scene as a QQ exclusive. But if you want to be a dick about it, nah.

 

[masterofmadness]

That was 16k words of nothing happening and ending with a cliffhanger

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Really? A lot happened here a lot of it was just character moments and setup. This is the start of a new arc that is to be expected.

Glad they finally got to the North. Huh, Jon getting picked up as a Squire is interesting. Hmm, I wonder if Ophelia picked up on QA visiting Bran.

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I mean she noticed something off:

One of the Starks,the second youngest of the boys, Bran she thought, felt… oddly familiar. And not in the way where she thought she'd possibly killed someone related to him. But almost like there was an aura around him she should recognize.

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I imagine she will investigate it late on. It could be QA, him being a Greenseer of both but both will probably be noticed upon closer inspection.

 

[Rakaan]

There WAS going to be a NSFW scene as a QQ exclusive. But if you want to be a dick about it, nah.

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Excuse me while I go cry in the corner from a cheap lewd scene being withheld out of spite for some random on the internet. Whatever will we do? lol

 

[Gigifiy]

That was 16k words of nothing happening and ending with a cliffhanger

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So.... like a normal story? Every story has build up and cliff hangers. Heck, what happened in the beginning of the show that this is lining up with? Nothing! Character establishment and a cliffhanger.

 

[Yupthisisforporn]

Excuse me while I go cry in the corner from a cheap lewd scene being withheld out of spite for some random on the internet. Whatever will we do? lol

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If he's the dick, does that make you the cunt?

And if you don't even like this story what are you doing here?

 

[Tzeentch]

If Jon is the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar, I wonder how much Power his blood carries, what with him being a descendent of TWO ancient royal bloodlines....Ophelia's reaction to him with her own supernatural senses ought to be VERY interesting.

 

[masterofmadness]

Alright here is my Chapter 13 review, this time spoiled for convenience. please enjoy everyone!

Spoiler: Chapter 13 Review

Adjusting the hem of his blue tunic, the young bastard took a moment to reflect. In truth, Jon liked to think he had a firm grip on the virtues of House Stark.

Even as a bastard, he'd been brought up understanding that someday he would find a duty to dedicate his life too. Something he could do that meant something. An honor he could earn even if his name was "Snow" and not "Stark". As petty as it sounded, he thought that by putting the lessons he learnt from his father, he would feel closer to being an actual member of the family.

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Ah Jon! You and your iconic angst is a fine familiar sight to read. Really would it be you without it?

Escorting his sisters and their friend to Septa Mordane was, regrettably, not what he had in mind when he imagined the ideal of the "dutiful protector".

Not that he had anything against it.

Not truthfully.

It just felt… demeaning to do what amounted to a menial task while pretending it was anything other than a menial task. But Lord Stark had asked him to accompany his sisters for the day and it would be a warm day in Winterfell before he thought to disappoint the man who'd done his best for him.

Even if playing escort could grow tiresome.

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Jon I get were you are coming from but only it is just so you to make spending some time with your sisters into a grim depressing duty.

"Jon? Jon! Are you listening to me? Jooooooooon!"

And there was, of course, Arya to consider.

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Of course there is Arya to consider! She is the Best Stark Girl and I will fight Robert Baratheon to defend that title. Seriously how can you be sad when she is around?

His youngest sister had been pestering him nonstop, asking whether he had news on the royal procession due to arrive North soon. Since he was the oldest person around, of course she would latch onto him rather than Sansa and Jeyne… who she admittedly had a less than positive rapport with.

Meaning he had to be the one to keep her occupied until Septa Mordane took her off his hands.

'Gods, aren't we there yet? Why aren't we there yet?'

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Look Jon she is your younger sibling! As one myself I will let you know it is our Gods given right to annoy you as much as we won't and no you are never "there yet" even when you have actually arrived.

"They said that there are a bunch of Dornishmen coming along with the King! Do you know anything about that, Jon?"

"Maybe you can ask Septa Mordane to teach you about Dorne today?" He offered hesitantly.

"But she never teaches anything interesting! Besides, I heard there is a witch coming with them. Do you think Septa Mordane is gonna teach me anything about being a witch?"

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Ah yes of course Ara would be looking forward to meeting Dornish for the first time in her life. I mean their culture matches her dreams so much she named her Direwolf Nymeria, which is imagine will open a lot of door for comedy soon.

Her meeting the Sand Snakes is going to be a match made in Heaven or Hell depending on your perspective.

Well given how the woman acted when her mood was foul… there was a chance that she could.

But Jon wasn't going to say that.

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No you definitely should! I mean if nothing else Arya would love you for it! And really what is more important the feelings of a bitchy teacher who will never like you to your darling little sister?

"Arya, what have I told you. That stuff about witches, hidden swords, and haunted castles are just overblown stories. Stuff people tell so you'll be scared of them." Sansa spoke at last, perhaps as annoyed by the younger Stark's inquisitiveness as he was worn out by the repeated questions.

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Oh early Sansa I am starting to remember why I always slightly hated you! This is so entirely reasonable but so very wrong.

"Well, you never know. Maybe she really is a witch! They say she is the most famous woman in all of Dorne."

Sullenly glaring at her sister, Jon knew that a spat between the two was imminent. And also something neither he, nor his father would be interested in dealing with. So he acted.

"They say the bastard-" He didn't flinch what he said the word, didn't glower or snarl or gnash his teeth. "Girl rides on griffins, that she has apes from Southryos, manticore from Essos, direwolves and mammoths and giant hawks. They say serpents that can swallow horses carry her over the sands and that the beasts and birds and even skittering insects will devour any man who looks upon her with so much as a hint of displeasure. That the land of Dorne itself loves her and she will be taken as Dorne's bride, raised up as a New God amongst the Old." He paused and sighed. "I shall refrain from angering Lady Stark by mentioning the less savoury rumors, but I assure you two, she is a girl. Like you are. Maybe not as pretty as you Sansa or as clever, and annoying, as you are Arya." Jon tousled his sister's hair. "But just a girl."

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Oh now these are some interesting stories! I know the apes ones is at least accurate but a part of me wishes all of them were true.

I don't doubt she will bring back Mammoths and Direwolves with her if she could and maybe if the poll had gone differently the serpent could have been real too. Instead she will be simply be flying on an Owl-beast rather then a noble griffon. Though I am sure if she had the chance Ophelia would be wise enough to get one too.

... Also what exactly are those less savory rumors? Are they about her and Tyene? Or just the usual trashing of any powerful woman.

Sansa gave him a small smile. The same kind of smile Lady Stark wore when she looked at him. Somehow it hurt his heart when his sister's face was the one carrying it forwards.

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Wow even if this was unintentional I want to punch Sansa for doing it. Or maybe Cat for causing it indirectly...

When the true born girl dipped her head he sighed. Truthfully, Snow hated arguing with his siblings, any of them, even if there were some he was closer to than not. But there were enough unofficial Stark saying he had heard that he got the point. Infighting leads to death. And even if he was a Snow and not a wolf, well, he had a wolf pup too.

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Yeah at this point it seems to me that the Stark's are not as good at working together as the Sand Snakes but they at least the same idea down. Hopefully they learn that from the Dornish because even if this is not canon GOT I think they will still need it.

If anything I would simply put it down to lack of experience or drive, the Sand Snakes have had an obvious goal they have been with their family for year with the politics around getting revenged for Elia and keeping things in check with the precarious political atmosphere in Dorne. Meanwhile the Starks really have a peaceful life without much to do in terms of untied goals until shit hits the fan in canon.

Bowing slightly, he turned and smiled to his sisters, faltered slightly when only Arya returned it, and recovered by giving his youngest sibling a wink.

He'd sneak her a honey cake later.

Moving quickly, he reached the more densely populated parts of the castle soon enough. Inclining his head, he greeted the men at arms who were standing watch over the entrance to the residential part of the castle.

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See now that is proper big brother behavior! I have always loved Arya's relationship with Jon shame it is usually not a main focus in a lot of fic. I can only recall one where it was a major part but I should talk about other stories here.

"Thank you, I'll make my way there now."

And just like that, his next task was upon him.

Hopefully one that was less likely to result in him annoying Sansa or Lady Stark. With the king's visit soon upon them, the last thing he needed was a preparatory scolding.

So, putting speed into his step, he focused on maneuvering through the rather crowded hallways as best he could. Not only had the population of Winter Town swollen with the pending arrival of the King's procession, but also with the large body of men recently recruited, both for the Night's Watch and for his father's own household guard.

Ultimately, there was only one thing that still bothered the bastard and that was why his father actually needed more men. Doubly so when so many of the troublemakers in the north were actively being taken care of!

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So we are seeing a major reinforcement of the Night's watch are we? It makes sense even without
any possible new events it has needed it for a long time. Once you add in the mysterious happenings already mentioned it is practically mandatory. The only question is if they are only hiding the animal disappearances or if more has gone on without us knowing.

Skirting around one of the recently restocked barracks, he nodded to the old men he passed, waved to others that waved at him, and once or twice returned greetings.

Which still boggled his mind a bit.

Even if he understood that there was room enough in Winterfell for a hundred thousand men or more, the reality of only about six thousand was that it seemed… flooded. Of course, more people were starting to pour into Winter Town, but that was distant enough to not be a constant presence. The increased number of bodies, never mind the additional traffic needed to feed them, in the castle proper was just so unusual as to be disorienting. Though, quietly, Jon had enjoyed the fact that all of them seemed at the absolute worst respectful towards him.

Bastard or no, he'd been treated oddly well by the old men who had come to join the Night's watch.

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Yeah honestly for all its impressive size Winterfell and history it is a little big for the number people who actually man it most of the time. If the Stark didn't have a Kingdom's worth of resource to call on for maintenance it would probably be in as much disrepair as Harrenhal.

It does make me curious about the population of the North when Winterfell was built though. Before the long night was there presumably a high population but Winterfell was built after that. What was the North like back when magic was still strong?

Proof that they loved Eddard more than they looked down on him.

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Christ Jon you just do not know how to be happy do you? Yes it is probably more respect for the Stark's who have ruled since time immemorable but that is no reason to not take a little joy from it.

In the room was his uncle, the man speaking, and his father. Clad in all black, as members of the Night's Watch tended to be, Uncle Benjen was standing somewhat in front of the large fireplace that dominated one side of the room. His father, the Lord Eddard Stark, currently had his back to the entrance - his attention on his brother and not the door.

"Sirs."

Both men turned to look at him, obviously trying to decide how much he had heard and whether or not to continue. The bastard simply chose to stand there, hands clasped behind him, and wait.

It also gave him a few moments to try and put what he'd heard together with what he already knew.

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Oh how ominous! I still don't think they have to worry about secrecy too much on this though. It is rather visible about the fact they are massively reinforcing the Night's watch to anyone with a brain.

Jon had spoken with his uncle as much as possible since his arrival from the Wall and, though there hadn't been much time for pleasantries, the man always made an effort to spare an hour or two to speak with him. Enough that, when considered with the fact his uncle and father were speaking with either a lord or Maester Luwin more often than not, it meant it was important. And when he wasn't, Benjen interacted with the men who had been brought to Winterfell at his father's request.

To reinforce the Night's Watch, again, along with every criminal that could be forced into it..

That meant that the topic of their conversation was somewhat obvious, but, even if he could guess, the bastard didn't know why. His father had kept the truth close to his chest and when asked, waved it away as a task that was long overdue. Sending more men to take the black as a personal favor to his uncle, who expressed worry that they would soon be short for men and swords.

He, of course, did not question further.

Or rather, he'd offered to go alongside the other men, but received no confirmation.

Even Uncle Benjen had refused to acknowledge his intent to take the black, instead changing the subject in the least subtle way imaginable.

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... I am starting to wonder if the Other are already on the move and known about this time. It would certainly explain the urgency and why they might not want to send Jon.

"Good. Good." Turning to his desk, Eddard took the collar of his grey tunic in hand, took a sniff, grimaced, and then continued speaking. "If you don't mind doing me a favor, son, I would have you inform your brothers that the King's party will be arriving by tonight. Catelyn will wrangle the youngest into the bath, of course, but Robb, and Theon too, should be told to get ready. And would you…."

"Make myself scarce? Yes sir."

There was pain in Ned's eyes at Jon's words. Enough the man simply frowned and nodded.

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Ouch, I can't blame Ned but god if that doesn't hurt to see.

"Of course. Is there anything else Father?" Somehow, his chest was hurting. "If not, I'll go inform Robb and Theon, I think they're still in the yard." But it was a cold hurt, an old one. He could live with it, as he had for so many years already.

"I…." And for a moment, it looked like his father wanted to say something, perhaps related to the trouble up at the wall. Instead, the Lord Paramount of the North sighed and shook his head. "I love you son. Never forget that."

"I love you too Father. And you as well Uncle."

And with that, he left, going to find his brother and his brother's best friend.

After all, a Stark did his duty.

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Sigh... Ned remains a good dad at least, Jon need to hear that.

Many were the ways Tyrion was used to waking up.

Sometimes, after a night of hard drinking and reconsidering the overall worth of his existence, he found himself waking up in a pile of whores. All of whom had been well paid and were warm, soft, and very eager to wake him up with a pitcher of wine and their mouths around his cock.

Sometimes, especially if he had run out of coin, he woke up under a tree. If he was lucky, he'd have a blanket, his things, and not be covered in fleas. If not, well, he'd maybe at least have his clothes.

Sometimes, when the Gods wanted to remind him how much they hated him, he would wake up in a pile of pig shit after a kind passerby decided to douse him in a bucket full of damn near freezing water.

"Now, now little brother, if I didn't know better I'd say you want to prove Cersei and Father wrong." Squawking, disgusted, and confused the Imp tried to avoid falling back over into the excrement and mostly managed to splutter his way to not drowning. "Because from what our dearest sister says, sleeping with pigs is beneath you."

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Ah I was wondering where Tyrion was! Of course the answer was drunk in the muck somewhere.

Also let this be a lesson to all who read about not binge drinking, you are going to end up waking up somewhere you shouldn't eventually.

"Damn you." Wrinkling his nose, he looked down and gave a curious piglet a scratch of the snout. "My head is pounding."

That got a dismissive snort.

"You, the king, and all the king's friends."

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God it occur to me now just how much of Jaime's job is just watching a bunch of drunken assholes who happen to run the Kingdoms.

"P-Please br-brother." Barely managing to burrow deeper into the mound of pillows he'd collected during his stay in Winter Town's brothel he tried to convince his sibling of the necessity of heeding his desperate plea. "Just a s-s-small d-drink."

Not even looking up, the kingsguard turned another page in the book he was reading.

"The witch said no alcohol until the shakes stop." Pausing, he did look up. "And, to quote, 'it will prevent him from dying a mad syphilitic, but it will not unpickle his liver. Gods Old and New know my father is trying to do the same.'"

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Ha! Witches spitting mad truth!

Also this sort of thing makes it very clear the Jaime it the older brother doesn't it?

"Hardly. I got bored after the third hinted at murder, noticed Robert was trying to hunt a boar when utterly drunk again, so I wandered off. Obara, that's Oberyn's eldest daughter, shared this with me. A nice girl, bit too vicious for most, but I imagine that the North will find her utterly… charming. Brilliant with a whip though."

"W-whips. I c-can't say I'm surprised-d-d our si-ister dearest f-favors them, b-b-but how will sh-he feel about y-your eyes turning a-a-away."

This time his brother actually scowled at the Imp.

"I do not speak of the whips you find yourself lashed by. Rather, the kind that splits skin like an overripe grape" Shrugging, he tried to pretend he wasn't bothered. Tyrion still managed to give him a look that got a groan and, with a sigh, the blonde swordsman tossed what the dwarf could now see was a water dancing manual onto the table. "If anyone favors the Dornish over much, it's the royal family."

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I would argue in this case not overly favoring the Dornish would be a bad idea as well. I mean the feudal system is based around rewarding your vassals service and besides saving the city from wildfire privately they did just give the King a brand new Valyrian Steel Sword.

Also a water dancing manual? Interesting to see Jaime still trying to improve his swordsmanship even when he is already so good at it.

"Morning Tyrion." The familiar, chipper voice of Ros called out as she opened the door. "I heard my lord had a ramble around town last night, thankfully things weren't too cold, I would hate for your mighty sword to have frozen off an-" Pausing, seeing the knight in the white cloak, with white scaled armor, blonde hair, blue eyes, and sitting across from the shaking dwarf she did something of a double take. "My lords." And just like that, she fell into a deep curtsy with one hand, the other holding up a tray laden with biscuits, jam, and tea. "I apologize, I brought breakfast."

"Leave the food, then get on. My brother will pay you later."

And just like that, the redhead was scuttling off, the knight chuckling and slathering a flaky biscuit with apricot jam.

The proper response to this situation, of course, was to curse his brother.

"Father's balls, Jamie! She could have warmed me!"

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Jaime: BEGONE THOT! AND LEAVE THE BISCUITS!

Jamie, the figurative bastard, rolled his eyes at him.

"Well, I'll have you know she's found herself a friend to keep her company."

That got another absurd look from the youngest of the Lannister siblings.

"What? Did you buy her one of those Lizard Lions on the way here?"

"Must you antagonize her like that?"

"Well, she already hates me. All I wish to do is proffer a mirror to her soul."

"You won't have to wait much longer to do that then. She'll be arriving soon enough. Remind me to warn you about her latest scheme before you have to see her."

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No Tyrion but her friend will probably be getting some Lizard Lions on the trip back. But I do understand your disbelief, frankly I still find it hard to believe Cersei is capable of friendship at times too.

After all, the reason Tyrion had left ahead of the Royal procession was precisely because he was trying to avoid this sort of madness. Between the King, the Dornish Prince, the Queen, and the Witch, Tyrion had figured someone was gonna try something with him. He'd promptly cut his losses and scuppered off straight ahead.

Of course, he'd stopped on the way to recover during his long arduous trip.

Mostly between the bosoms of beautiful women from every kingdom he could find.

And then went on his way.

The plan, to reach the Wall before his Majesty reached Winterfell, was to avoid whatever drama unfolded, and then doubled back after pissing off of the Edge of the World. Because if he was gonna be drunk and miserable during the trip, it might as well be on his terms and without the figurative and literal snakes surrounding him.

Oberyn Martel hated Lannisters

He was a Lannister.

Cersei hated Tyrion.

And he was Tyrion.

It was simple math really. And of course, he'd heard enough about witches that he didn't want to find out if Oberyn's girl was gonna make a bid for his bits. Who knew, Cersei and the King might actually consider it!

He knew his father would.

If only to be rid of him altogether.

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Well I guess we have a far more logical answer as to why Tyrion has not been around. I agree with him thinking this whole set up is a disaster and that it might be the smartest move to be as far away as possible when it happens. However sadly this is the type of politically inclined mess that can ruin your life no matter the distance.

"And I'm supposed to help? How? Maybe doing a funny dance will distract the Dornish. Face it Jamie. Between the Royals and the Dornish, we can only handle one side at a time. The King… will do as the King does. Drink and make a nuisance of himself. Ned Stark is his friend, so we won't have to worry about him."

The 'for once', went unstated.

"Oh don't start with the whining Tyrion. You're a people person. You've always known how to get people to do what you want them to do. All I'm asking is that you put this remarkable talent to good use in case someone does something stupid."

Rubbing his face, the dwarf actually felt less… weighed down than he had in years. Enough that his forced clarity was pointing out how important not getting people killed was. After all, if the nation was at war he'd have less time and gold to spend on wine, women, and warm beds.

"Ok." Jaimie's smile turned thankful and relieved and the Imp glared at his brother. "I will do my best, I suppose. But don't expect to be able to keep me sober the whole time!"

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And we have Tyrion on damage control for the rest of the trip. I'm sorry but you might already be too late for all your people skills now. You said it yourself you can only do so much and their is just so much bullshit set up her, some of it is bound to hit the fan.

"Perish the thought! I'll get you a bottle of Arbor Gold and a Dornish Red." Pausing, Jaimie couldn't help but ask one question though. "By the way brother, do you know why there are so many old men at Winterfell?"

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I'm not sure if that is a serious question or the start to a joke. The answer to both is probably something along the line of they can't have sex anymore so decide to join the Night's watch and die.

The North was… certainly living up to the stories. The small wooded copse she and her family were in somehow encapsulating the whole of it. Doubly so as a large bear was currently letting Ophelia and Elia pet it, as it ate small berries out of the youngest's fingers - making the girl giggle as its long tongue lapped at her hand.

It was cold, inhospitable, but mysterious in a way Nymeria could appreciate. It was an old slumbering beast huddled comfortably in its cave, waiting for the right time to wake up and rowl its ancestral woods. The same way Dorne was a serpent which moved unseen through the sands. Something that was in the air, the earth, and the blood of the men whom had sprung from it.

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God I love this description! When did Nymeria become Tolkien? And is Ophelia taking the bear with her? I don't recall her having one yet. While Direwolves are of course the optimal Northern Animal a bears is a respectable third behind mammoths.

This would be the stage where her family would once more dance with intrigue and deceit. One could hardly expect people to have sufficient time to plan and plot while on the road, so their arrival at Winterfell marked the end of the interregnum and the start of another round of battles.

Which included herself and her family.

Though perhaps not Tyene.

The girl plotted and schemed with every breath at every second of the day. She'd behaved relatively well during their journey, but now the calm which heralded the storm was at an end, and Nymeria would have to watch her younger sister like a hawk lest she pull off another of her stunts without family approval. It was that last bit that made her so dangerous as it meant they had no idea how to react - not that the blonde ever seemed to care.

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Ah yes! Once again we are approaching a deadly climax to direct the fate of the Kingdoms! With master schemers, interdimensional aliens and worst of all Tyene around to cause chaos!

"Which is why you'll be keeping an eye on her." Nymeria decided, making sure Sarella knew who she was talking to. Who she was talking about was obvious, of course.

"But why me?!"

Sarella was reasonably affronted at the idea.

"Because you failed to watch Ophelia at Harrenhal. Think of this as your penance."

Objectively, the second born of Oberyn Martell knew it was unfair to hold Sarella solely responsible for what had transpired at the cursed castle. It was impossible for any of them to keep up with Ophelia and the middle sibling had even found the fifth child with as much rapidity as she could. But the point stood that she had specifically claimed that she wouldn't let their second most troublesome sister stick her nose into anything that could bite back.

She also needed an excuse to not be Tyene's minder. A task which had been hers during the journey up to this point.

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Nymeria you cruel bitch! How could you subject poor Sarella to a fate as terrible as Tyene duty! I wouldn't want to do it myself either but throwing under the bus after she handled the Ophelia situation in Harrenhal a best she could? And you know this is going to cut into her Indiana Jones time in Winterfell!

"I already told you, I can't stop Tyene from doing stuff. She doesn't listen to me!"

The third eldest Snake sniffed in disdain.

"You speak as if I'd listen to anyone."

"You do when it's Ophelia." The riposte from the fourth born was as true as it was immediate.

"I can't hide anything from Ophelia. Nobody can. So I might as well tell her what I'm doing."

Unfortunately, Tyene's words were just as obvious and, for them, just as reasonable

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You know it saying something that the only way to control Tyene is supernatural spying skills that she is totally unable to defeat. No normal person could ever keep her on a leash.

"Let's just have Ophelia watch her then."

She could tell when the adventurous Snake was trying to manipulate her through pity. Unfortunately the girl was much too old to incite the same combination of 'fuzzies' Elia could in her sisters.

Ophelia's words, not hers.

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Sigh... Ophelia seriously watch your language around your family and stop ruining an entire language!

"Ophelia will continue her tasks with the Royal Family. Earning their favor and maintaining a good relationship with them has been of paramount importance to our mission. Both the King and Queen favor her on equal measure, and the court holds itself a respectful distance away from us so long as that is the case. Unless you can think of a way to make them favor another of us to such high regard?"

"Well… I think dad invited them to a threesome?"

Nymeria rolled her eyes.

"Something that won't get our heads on pikes, Sarella."

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I'll be honest at this point I really don't think their are any way to earn more favor from the royal family that wouldn't be a bad idea. I mean they are already at the point where it is clear everyone is jealously plotting against them because they have royal favor so really what is left to do but maintenance?

"Of course, Father. Remind me, how was it that you nearly caused a war at King's Landing? Or how many times Ophelia had to stop from murdering the king? Or how you always killed no less than three members of the kingsguard for, and I quote, 'being sacks of pig shit'. Or when you romanced a Lady who was married, a Lady Knight with whom you have continued your dalliances for the entirety of this trip, and collapsed the top floor of a brothel doing gods only knows what."

Oberyn pouted, clearly looking torn between taking pride in his escapades and apologizing for making more work.

"In my defense, Obara murdered the only mercenary to witness what happened and one of Tyene's little boy toys - and I really must thank you for teaching Sarella so many wonderful words, Ophelia, you do know you can share with the rest of the family, yes?" Oberyn plowed ahead as his daughter opened her mouth, leaving her to just sigh and rest her face in her hands. "And Ser Delilah Waters is a delightful woman. Ellaria will love her."

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Literally nothing here is surprising except that the Lady Knight has been following Oberyn. Did we ever get any confirmation about her background? I remember a lot of theories and the author saying one of them was right but never which one.

Oh and how long is it going to be before she gives Ophelia a new sister? A week or is she responsible enough to drink moon tea until Eliaria can join in and give permission.

Father and Obara were forceful and unyielding. The perfect face to showcase to the northmen.

Sarella and Tyene were cunning.

They would operate while others looked away.

Elia was much too young to have any stake in their current goals, but would nonetheless be positioned with the Royal children in case something of interest had to be reported or handled by them. While Ophelia was, as always, the beacon which drew the gaze of all who surrounded her.

While she often obviously needed more than one minder, it was Nymeria's intent to pair off with the Witch in the coming venture.

Her sister would lay her web as she always did, and Nymeria wanted to have all the information she could get while acting upon her own agenda. Managing the rest of the Snakes would be a task in and of itself, while making the initial contact with the lords and ladies of Winterfell would be her mission.

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I think I have already said this but the Sand Snakes do work well as an intrigue team covering each others' bases as long as their teenage girl bs and Tyene don't get in the way.

In regards to Elia I actually can see her role once he gets older. Nymeria is the one doing the diplomacy and charm parts now because no else does but really she is more a minder then anything else. Elia has shown a great skill at being charming and building positive relationships and could easily take that role in the group fully once she has gone up a bit more.

"So, I'm playing nanny." There was definitely a hint of rebellion in Elia's tone but the planner of the group did her best to head it off.

"Think of it as being the grown up in the room. We can't expect the royal children to handle themselves as well as you do."

Thankfully, that seemed somewhat ameliorating. Enough that Elia gave a sharp nod and went back to petting the bear. Meaning it was now Obara's turn to interject.

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Honestly Elia is probably the mot responsible person in the who royal family adults included a lot of the time. You might have the most important job of all Elia, it just doesn't look like it.

"With all this planning I have to wonder how spectacularly things will collapse." Grunting, she finished whittling away at a piece of wood and placed the half finished thing into a pouch along with a carving knife. "Though we shall at least have a few trinkets to show for our work, if our luck continues to hold up. Ophelia can barely keep her nose out of those books Lady Whent gave you two."

Looking up from said book, the witch in question simply shrugged.

"When I tried to participate before I was shut down. Additionally, I trust Nymeria. She'll get us through this… more or less intact. Mostly. Probably." Pausing, the witch closed her gifted tome. "We are all aware that I'll likely have another vision when we get to Winterfell, yes?"

Nymeria nodded.

"Try not to go streaking this time?"

And this time it was Tyene who cut off Ophelia's response.

"And please don't get hurt again. I know we had this discussion before, but we do get worried."

Ophelia nodded, fingering her long black braid, and picked at the weave.

"I don't do it on purpose."

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I mean unlike Harrenhal their is no cure actively seeking her out to deal with but their are certainly more magical secret he is likely to run into by investigating. So more King's landing with a bigger budget then anything, though her smaller swarm should lessen that a lot.

"Well, I suppose I might say something if I wasn't aware that my own discretions weren't so apparent." Coughing and pretending not to notice, the only man there chose to focus instead on the noise coming up to them from the camp they had departed from. "But I do not think it would be wise for me to comment on the tastes and opinions of anyone." Here he paused for a moment, clearly thinking on how to choose his words. "However, I think it wise to remind you two that not everyone will be so… accommodating as I. And that discretion is advisable."

"Oh, is that what you're worried about father?" Tyene wore a shark's smile and, after a glance at the witch and a hesitant nod from her, the third born seemed to practically delight in her next words. "Don't worry. The queen and her brother seem to be of the same inclination."

Oberyn blinked.

"So that particular rumor is true then?"

"Indeed. The all knowing trouble maker even covered for them with her horse riding lessons." Nymeria's statement won her a glare from the young woman in question. Their shared father simply chose to chuckle.

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Wait they went all this time and didn't tell Oberyn about the Royal Incest! I could understand not telling him intentionally cause he might not be able to keep it under wraps but it seems like they just forgot. This is basically the piece of info that could take down the Lannister's and wasn't told until now!

Sometimes I wonder if their really is a plan here at all or if all of them are just winging this.

"Everyone is selling me out then? And I don't even know if this is what I want! I just… well… you know! Is no one going to listen to me on this?"

And Ophelia's desperate pleas earned exactly one response, Elia piping up again now that she was done feeding the bear.

"We've never done that before, why would we start now?"

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Because it is bound to eventually end up causing a trouble somehow? But then again you never cared about that either do you? I am telling you Tyene's lust is going to bit all of you in the ass!

Her sister snorred.

Not gentle, cute snores, but great big tent shaking ones.

And that was part of what woke her up.

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Ha! Ophelia it really is your own fault. You have had over a decade to invent an anti-snoring mouthpiece for her.

Ophelia didn't like sleeping alone, so she chose to bear with it. It helped that Obara was the only one of her sister to seemingly not genuinely care about all the… fun that the witch had gotten into. Her response to being told about the visions and the monsters was to shrug and ask if the curse of Harrenhal would be able to follow them. Then, upon being told that, no, it probably couldn't, she opined that it wasn't worth continuing to worry about.

That had actually helped her sleep a little better and the reincarnated young woman had decided to, for once in her two lives, just roll with something.

While conveniently reserving the right to plot to murder her magical, castle sized dragon enemy later.

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Yes a true bit of wisdom here from Obara. Can it currently hurt you or follow? No? Problem for later, deal with it then. Truly she has the gain the wisdom possesed by only master Zen philosopher and veteran couch potatoes.

I joke but that was probably the best thing for Ophelia to hear right now regarding Harrenhal.

"I know you're awake."

Obara grumbled.

"How?"

"You stopped snoring."

"I don't snore!"

Indignant protestations were always the most effective way to deny the truth. Ophelia the Teenage Witch just gave her sister a pat on the shoulder. And then pinched her cheek lightly.

"You snore like the king, but that's ok, no one's perfect."

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Tyene: I would disagree with that statement sister *wink*

Checking the egg, she found the life within and the smooth, speckled shell to be just the same as before. Slowly growing, without so much as a hint of discomfort, and a lingering desire to be

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Ah good Hoo-dini is still safe and sound.

For observent reader yes that is a name change, still not born after all. My current list of candidates is Beendict, Hoo-dini and Shellby

Pulling off her sleep wear, the former warlord liked to pretend that she wasn't sore, that her bruises didn't still smart if she moved too fast. But the truth was she knew she was going to be ever worse off if she wasn't ready to give the training her all. And she really, really wanted to get revenge for her sister's revenge for her teasing, which itself revenge for the teasing the other evening.

But that was just part of being Dornish.

"And stop justifying your attempts at getting even.

And with that parting riposte, Obara slipped out of the tent and started walking off.

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Oh God I love this! Ophelia almost had me convinced for a second that he was saying something about Vegence as part of the culture of Dorne before Obara smacked it down like one of her insect.

Without a doubt, Ophelia was not pouting!

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Oberyn: Oh now I want to pinch you cheeks like when you were a little girl.

But now… now she stood just a few hundred yards off from Winterfell itself, gazing up in awe at the great castle with her own eyes.

"Hey, are you ok?"

Elia brought her horse over to stand near her dismounted sister, the witch holding her mount's reins in her hands.

"I… yes." Smiling, the witch shook her head. "Perhaps it was a mistake to take in the Red Keep and Harrenhal with the eyes of falcons. It diminishes their grandeur a bit."

Rolling her eyes, the youngest of the snakes simply did what all siblings did best.

"Then its your fault for being awestruck now. Come on, the queen's wheelhouse finally got unstuck and now the royal party is making its final approach, they even opened the gates and everything."

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Elia is even throwing shade about you overcomplicating things now! How will you ever recover Ophelia.

All of this was supported by a number of cleared spaces and flat topped towers that she thought might be able to support mangonels or trebuchets or other such weapons. Even then, there were obvious stores of rocks along the covered wooden walkways, a few men along each stretch of the wall, and a steady flow of traffic in and out two of the secondary gates.

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Okay I am just going to take a moment to complain here. Becuase those towers are a canonical part of Winterfell an you know what? They are idiotic!

The entire thematic of the Stark is about being ready for winter, their words are winter is coming and the castle is named Winterfell. You would think that would mean the castle be built to handle winter but you know what winter has? SNOW! Meaning Flat top towers with roofing would be nothing but snow traps making them unusable at best and a construction hazard from all the weight at worst!

Rant over it is just a minor nitpick about castle design but it is very aggravating.

No, it was the Lord Paramount and his family that she focused on.

The Starks of Winterfell were certainly imposing in their own way.

Covered in furs from the eldest to the youngest, the family was quite large by the standards of her previous life, most couples wouldn't have a literal handful of children. But she'd long since gotten used to having a massive family, so by contrast, the Starks seemed almost tame in her eyes.

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Ha! Sorry Catelyn if you think your five little Kids is impressive you have got another thing coming! Even if you add in Jon and Theon as member of the family you have got nothing on the Sand Snake! You are playing checkers while Oberyn is fathering new children.

Whereas the Sand Snakes had a fair amount of divergence in their looks and ancestry due to having different mothers, all Starks came in one of two styles. From the shape of their eyes to the color of their hair and even the way they held themselves… with some exceptions.

Amusingly, the youngest girl looked about ready to bolt.

Clearly, she was the normal one of the family. After all, who in their right mind would like to stand still in front of a bunch of strangers backed up by the literal King of their nation. Ophelia certainly wouldn't have cared if she were in their shoes.

Now then… what were their names again?

Eddard, Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.

Those were the names Nymeria had spent half the morning hammering into their heads until they could tell which was which at a glance. From their age, to their overall features as well as behavior, her older sister had been thorough in her studies of the Starks while preparing them for the meeting.

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And we see yet another way the Sand Snakes crush their competition, better design variety! Get on their level scrubs.

Also I love that the first thing Ophelia see is Arya wanting to bolt and thinking "Smart girl". Though your definition of normalcy might be slightly biased by who your family is. Clearly this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship to come.

She was here to look mysterious and intimidating, after all, not to gush over how adorable the little siblings were standing next to each other like that.

'Such pinchable cheeks.' It finally struck her that she might be missing her littlest sisters quite a lot lately.

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Oh your poor children. You fools! Did you not believe the tales are true? You heard she was a Witch so often but you merely closed your eyes to it and now it is too late to run! The Witch shall bring her Darkest art of cheek pinches and none shall escape!

Gods have mercy on your souls from you cheeks shall have none.

One of the Starks,the second youngest of the boys, Bran she thought, felt… oddly familiar. And not in the way where she thought she'd possibly killed someone related to him. But almost like there was an aura around him she should recognize.

For some reason, it made her sad and a little wistful.

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And she has noticed Bran! Now all that remains is to find out if she is sensing his potential as a greenseer or his meeting with QA.

'Perhaps I could ask Father about Lyana Stark, then. A woman like that must have been spectacular.'

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I doubt it, Lyanna Stark is nearly defined by how other people in someway mythologize her and her role, with the main two being Robert and Rheager but not entirely. Really the only people who could really tell you about Lyanna as a person are probably Ned and Benjen. Though even their Ned is somewhat problematic because his fostering meant he spent so little time with her and both have to deal with the emotional fallout of her death.

"Lord Stark, I am glad you were willing to make time to speak with me."

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So am I! Honestly this is a conversation I was always sad we never saw in canon. Oberyn and Ned have a lot of potential in their relationship that never gets realized in canon because of Ned's early death.

It was obvious that the man's wife had coached him in Southron manners. A small thing that would be important when one considered just how many people from so many realms had arrived.

The Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne all had their little parties and contingents and emissaries. Even the Westerlands had nominal representation in Jaimie Lannister and newly recovered dwarf-heir to Casterly Rock. That the man had been staying just ahead of the royal party and remained almost perpetually drunk was… immensely amusing. Letting that amusement color his tone, because what he was planning on discussing was obviously going to be anything but pleasant, the prince stretched his grin just a tiny bit wider and forged ahead.

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I think Oberyn is making the first of a few mistakes here regarding Ned. He doesn't need his wife to be coaching him in Southron manners because he already knew it before he married her. Ned fostered in the Vale for most of his Youth and while the political and personal connections he made is often the focus for most people it had a far larger impact then that alone. While he plays the role of the perfect Northern Lord very well Ned is far from ignorant about the South and its ways then it might appear. He distains a lot about it and is certainly not suited for its high politic but he is not an isolated Northern Bumpkin.

That being said he is right that Winterfell has probably not hosted a gathering of this magnitude in a ling time.

"When I came North, I wondered if I should love you or hate you." Pausing to drink again, the Red Viper was immensely pleased when the other man froze in the midst of lighting a candle. "After all, you killed Ashara's brother and murdered her by stealing your baby." Sighing, he leaned forward, resting his head on his hand. "But I see that you have loved Jon, even as your Lady Wife hates him, though I find it sad he knows nothing."

Lord Stark's hand shook for a moment before lighting the candle he had intended to, using it to fill the room properly with light.

"I did not mean to… take her will to live. Ashara Dayne was a woman I deeply, truly loved."

"Of course, of course. I do not wish to imply that my lord did not love the woman who stole his heart." Oberyn nodded at the northman's lord. "And I must confess I loved her too, though as a sister and not a woman. But Ashara was not like my own sister or me or even her brother. Had it only been Arthur who had died, or Elia, or her son taken from her I do not doubt she would have survived, but not all three."

Having sat down, there was a mix of anger and pain and a good deal of resignation in older man's eyes. But mostly there was a wary kind of caution about him and in his words.

"My duty was always to the North." Speaking carefully, it was clear that Eddard was doing what he could to keep things from escalating. Oberyn found it amusing. "My own desires, one way or another, died in King's Landing and rests in the crypts of Winterfell."

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Well if nothing else I can't say this is not in character for Oberyn down to the bone. Ashara was Elia's lady in waiting who he, as the overly passionate man he is would care deeply about. Someone was done a wrong in his eyes and he will not give up till it he sees justice. The fact he is wrong in this case about a major details matters little in the end, he does not change his convictions easily once he thinks he is right. In addition he is not entirely wrong about Jon's situation here, for all he treats Jon as a son himself Catelyn and general social pressure has heavily influenced Jon negatively. How much you can blame on Ned for not managing it properly is debatable but it is their.

Also I cannot imagine how this must feel for Ned. Whatever happened it is clear that Ned was genuinely deeply hurt by Ashara' death. I'm sure hearing someone else defend Jon passionately as well even if for the wrong reason. I'm sure he is also very relieved to have the truth still not be out as well.

"Aye. That it does. I… you said that I had murdered Ashara, for that I can not argue even if I do not agree, but you said I killed Ser Arthur?"

Nodding, the Dornishman accepted the change of topic.

"Slew him and his brothers Ser Whent and and Ser Hightower. Built cairns for them and your fallen comrades from the Tower of Joy and carried your sister's body home. There, you did your duty." Waving his hand, he took another drink. "I do not blame you for that. Only taking a second sister from me. That is why I wished to speak with you."

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It probably counts for a lot to Oberyn that Ned was genuinely not intending to harm Ashara, regrets it and was in a very difficult situation where he really did not have any good options. I think it might even be the difference between him just being angry about Ned and wanting to kill him.

For all the revenge tropes that make up Oberyn the one stereotype he does manage to avoid is being myopic about it. He is very much after people who are actually responsible for it rather then jut anyone in his way at the time. He is not exactly friendly with the Lannister family as a whole but while Cersei is.. herself and Jaime is arguably in part respondsible for Elia death as a Kingsguard he is focused on Tywin who actually killed her. He even defend Tyrion at his trial even if that is mostly for selfish reasons to get at the Mountain. You could argue that this i damning with faint praise but I believe it is their.

"And I am aware of the oaths you swore against the men who took one sister from you. Do I need to be worried about my family? About myself/? Or are the bonds of guest right enough."

It wasn't a question, but a warning. And there was force behind it too. Enough to actually draw a chuckle from the prince who crossed his legs and reclined, finishing his drink.

"If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. And if I wanted to make your family suffer then your wife would be speaking with my beautiful daughter Tyene right now.

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I will be honest I can't say for sure if Oberyn would be willing to break guest right to get his revenge. He would obviously much prefer a pure fight where he stab whoever he wants in the face but... well it is hard to say what wrongs a man as convicted a him is willing to do. His daughters and family facing the consequences e is probably a major deterrent but if he had a chance where he could avoid that? I really don't know.

Also why are you outright mentioning Tyene as a killer right to his face? I mean part of her 'charm' is that she is very good at seeming innocent.

No, I wish to ask your blessing to take Jon Snow as my squire."

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... Wait what!

"At the moment the lad is committed to joining the Night's Watch. While I may think he could do well squiring for you, he is also Northern and we do not have knights here as you do in the south. But I must say that a direwolf does not do well in the heat of a desert."

Pouring himself another cup full, the Prince chose his words with as much care as he ever did.

"If you let the boy join the Night's Watch without ever having lived life, I will kill you."

Lord Stark made a noise of objection, clearly growing angry and Oberyn simply snarled at him.

"Whether or not you have treated him like a son, you have no right to let him freeze to death! Your own blood may yet flow but Ashara's does not! No, her lifesblood cooled on the rocks upon which she threw herself. Her brother's dried in the sands. The Dayne's number five, only two of them able to continue their line. And if Jon is your child, he is a Sand, not a Snow, and a Star as much as he is a wolf! What respect I owe you ends where you fail to keep your wife from beating the boy into submission, it ends where you might let him damn himself to a frozen Hell, and it ends where I can do something to alleviate his suffering."

Reclining in the chair once again, Oberyn let the anger slip from him, returning to his almost friendly tone from before.

"Jon Snow may have all the situational awareness of a newborn lamb, but my daughters, well, one of them is a spear, another a gilded tongue, a third a Viper, a fourth a sharpened quill, a fifth… there is no hiding secrets from the fifth. Amusingly it was Elia who found all this out, my sixth, she simply followed him when he went to train and overheard his complaints as he smashed a training target to pieces."

Another sip to soothe his parched throat.

"You really do need to improve your security, especially with another thousand or so men in your castle now. Do you Starks normally host so many of the old and dying persuasion?"

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Well fuck, the balls on this man. The most likely enhanced by that bigger dick ritual mentioned back in King's landing balls of this man.

I have no freaking idea of whether this was a good approach beyond letting him vent, whether Jon would want to do o given the option or even what the consequences would be beyond Jon having to suffer the horrible teasing of all the Sand Snakes every moment of his life. What I do know is that my jaw is on the floor reading this,

Also Oberyn I know you want to brag about how awesome your little girls are but maybe don't constantly advertise your abilities to your potential enemies? You literally just threatened to kill him for god's sakes!

Once more, anger, shame, and plain confusion warred in the Lord's face, Eddard clearly having no idea how to handle what was going on. As such, he defaulted to Northern bluntness.

Something which Oberyn greatly preferred, even if he appreciated the earlier effort, if only because something as trifling as manners was a bit of an enjoyable waste of time.

"I have never been spoken to like that before." It was clear that the Northman's ire had been raised. "Not in my own home, not even by my worst enemies." He was practically grinding his teeth. "If it was not that your position was to defend Jon, I would demand satisfaction."

"Like I said my lord, I came North willing to love you or hate you." Knocking back the rest of his second cup of mead he stood. "My point is that you have allowed a rot to seep into your house and you do not demand the same respect for one of your sons as you do the rest."

Sighing, Lord Stark shook his head.

"Get out of my office. I shall tell Jon about your offer. Do not be seen until the feast tonight."

Picking up the bottle he'd been drinking from, the Dornishman gave his host a salute.

"As you command my lord!"

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Well that was probably the best outcome you could hope for in this situation at least.

And just like that he left the room, glad he'd meant to achieve what he needed to without drawing blood. Stabbing people was always more fun but he promised his brother he wouldn't cause too much trouble and Oberyn did try to behave. Mostly.

'Maybe if I ask with all the right words, he will consider crossing swords. I would very much like to test Serpent's Kiss against Ice.'

Of course, the right words usually consisted of biting remarks and insults to get his opponent's in the mood for a rousing round of trying to maim each other for honor and sport. A favorite pastime of Oberyn's and time honored tradition across the Seven Kingdoms.

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God you are such a smug bastard Oberyn.

"Look at me I didn't even draw blood today nearly causing a blood feud! I should reward myself by trying to duel the man I just pushed to the fucking edge."

"Now, to find the little Lord Dayne. Eddric is Jon's milk brother after all and the two should meet."

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Sigh... yet another little niggle cause by this misunderstanding. Ned really is going to have to talk to Jon about after this. I don't know if tell him Ashara is not his mom but Oberyn will never be convinced of that unless her ghost comes by to smack him upside the head will help or hurt the situation either.

Especially when it allowed him to face people he wanted to rant at. And even more so if during the course of this long journey he happened to cross paths with a most extraordinary young woman with the strength of a dozen men.

How could he have resisted?

Not very much.

Ellaria would be delighted to meet Dame Waters once he returned to Dorne. She was always fond of the mysterious, silent and strong types. And of course, the two would take the opportunity to induct the knight into their admittedly very broad circle of paramours. Just thinking about all the fun that would entail drove a shiver of delight down his spine.

All because of the cold weather, of course.

Maybe he should look for a bed to warm himself? Preferably one with a warm body already included.

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And the balls on this man grow ever bigger,

"You know what? I think i will reward myself for not causing a bloodfeud just yet by pounding a hot warrior women instead!"

Also I am not sure how much that 'strength of ten men' is an exaggeration but it is reviving my theories about her origins. My best guesses on this are a reincarnated Alexandria or Ophelia's Half-sister whose magic blood happen to go the enhance strentgh root. The latter most because of the extra drama the come from Ophelia have to deal with her newest sister also being her cousin. Then again it is also possible for even more drama by the author just going "why not both?" because it is just been that kind of story hasn't it?

It would take some time to settle matters over Jon Snow. And Oberyn was sure that Nymeria or Tyene would bring anything of grave importance to his attention if need be. His second eldest had a way of taking over for her father on matters of political intrigue. Something she inherited from her mother in full.

Obara had inherited the vengeful streak of her mother, Tyene her mother's seeming innocence, and Nymeria her mother's gift for simply handling people. Oddly, Sarella hadn't inherited her mother's wanderlust and Ophelia had only inherited her eyes and a sickly constitution from her mother - and the latter hadn't reared its head since before she had flowered.

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I'm sorry did you just say Sarella didn't inherit her mom's wanderlust? Sarella? The only reason Miss Medieval Indiana Jones is not raid some magic tomb right this second is she has crazy sister duty because the other one playing mom decided to punish her for not keeping a good enough eye on the Witch sibling on the last magic ruin!

How do you misread one of your daughter that bad! A blind man could see that her wanderlust is so strong the only reason she is not in Yi Ti right now is that she is in the middle of a continent wide adventuring orgy right this second!

"Bah. These depressing Northmen are getting to me." Shaking away the last of the melancholic thoughts and his lingering fears the Dornishman firmed his spine. 'Now, to go find Robert… or Delilah.' Snorting, he shook his head. 'My lady love of course. Besides, we have enough time for, hmm, three rounds? Four if my form is excellent tonight. Yes. That sounds delightful!'

Moving with a purpose, the Red Viper of Dorne - who might be better known as the perpetually horny goat from the sandy place down south - was most eager indeed!

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Why do I get the picture that being called "The perpetually horny goat from the sandy place down south" would just make the bastard proud? God has he been on brand this POV.

Well, they were a few hours into the welcome feast and Winterfell remained unspoiled and unburnt.

It must have been her lucky day.

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More like the eye of the storm really.

The royal procession had taken their time getting settled after greeting Lord Stark and his family as was customary. Much to her pride, Ophelia had kept from pinching the cheeks of the youngest as her older sister's instincts demanded of her. A mark of personal growth, as Elia and the younger sisters could attest to.

Ophelia's cheek pinching technique was legendary.

On the same level as elderly septas, she was told!

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Ah but these are different arts! An elderly septa's technique is a thing of patient study, a slow meditation to reach the holy state of the Crones and her divine cheek pinching. Still to be on the same level as these Old Mistresses of the art is impressive nonetheless.

Obara was wearing what amounted to a hunting suit - thick wool breeches, a calf length brown tunic that matched her hair, and had both belted around the waist with a knotted white silk cord. Woven into the cord was a series of copper suns that caused it to sit on her hips and served as a connection point for her to rest a pair of long daggers on one hip and her whip on the other.

Her brown hair was worn in a loose braid, woven by Elia, and held by a series of small, bronze clasps that was matched by the loose coat of wool and linen backed decorative bronze scales she wore to keep warm.

Nymeria had gone for something far more traditionally feminine, though her initial garment had to be slightly adjusted because of the chill of the North.

The primary garment was an ankle length yellow and red dress made of silk damask. It sat heavy on her shoulders and the normally loose, rather suggestively cut evening gown found its shape filled out by two layers of linen underclothes, both pure white, that went from Nymeria's navel up to her collarbone. Instead of her more normal… undergarments, Ophelia's second eldest sister was actually wearing riding breeches as they clung tightly enough to her form not to disturb the dress itself but had enough bulk to them to hide the concealed knives she'd secreted about her person - tainted with something painless and disturbingly fast acting of course. Finalizing the garment were a pair of earrings, small bronze studs, and a pair of rings - these being red gold with a pair of yellow diamonds set in them.

It was rather on the nose House Nymeros Martell coloration, but no one else was subtle and neither was the lightly perfumed Dornish cloak she had wrapped about her body.

Plus it kept people's eyes on the showy one of the group, the small amounts of kohl and blush all it took to turn Nymeria from "merely" an exotic beauty to a sensual mistress of desire.

All the better to stop people from noticing Tyene in the witch's opinion.

Like Obara, the third sibling had forgone a dress. However, this time there was no compromise between appearance and pragmatism. Tyene had gone for something that was nearly as scandalous as showing up naked and was only less so because she had worn her modified septa robes before.

Because right now she was dressed like a page or a particularly comely squire. Lightly powdered cheeks, her hair in carefully curled ringlets that fell past her shoulders, and wearing a blue tunic that fell just to the top of her knees along with white hose. It was a very, very small compromise for the sake of tact, which was blown out of the way by her men's slippers, but at least she'd been talked into wearing full body underclothes beneath the costume.

She wanted to make a statement, not spend a night in the dungeons for causing a disturbance with only her light blue linen cloak for warmth.

Out of all of them, Tyene was the most heavily armed with an arming sword belted at her waist and a dagger Ophelia knew was poisoned with something painful and fast acting.

'It's probably necrotic as well.'

Focusing on the agonizing death her sister might cause was, of course, paramount. Because said sister had gone to great lengths to let the witch drink in every detail of her body as she first undressed, in an admittedly… sensuous manner, and then redressed.

Sarella, at least, had been practical about things. Aside from a leather harness holding a pair of knives under her purple dress, she was rather conservatively dressed in a purple silk dress. It went from her ankles up to her throat, was embroidered with small serpens devouring their own tails about her waist, and was completed by a pair of gold armlets. All of this was protected by a heavy woolen cloak that, even now, the dusky skinned Dornishwoman had tight about her shoulder.

Ophelia actually took a good measure of pride in how precisely she'd managed to feather her sister's hair. While she was hardly a beautician, impossible precision and preternatural knife skills did help a bit when it came to fixing hair.

Elia had gone for something endearingly childish and something that actually wouldn't cause a stir, for as bold as it was. She too was dressed like a squire, though not nearly as suggestive as Tyene was. No, she wore thick black wool trousers, a tunic of red and gold over, and a thick scarf of cotton over a layer of thick undergarments. This was also completed by a black dyed jacket embroidered with cloth of gold stags.

This particular piece had been gifted to her by Robert in a fit of whimsy. That it only needed a little taking in had been lucky and none of the Snakes had anything but approval for it.

The Lady Lance did have a particular fondness for men's clothing and anything even slightly fancy that she didn't object to wearing was a Gods sent mercy.

Choosing to lean into her reputation, Ophelia had decided to go with "amusingly appropriate" as her own theme. A black dress whose collar actually curved up the sides of her jaw and fell past her ankles to brush against the tops of her feet was decorated with tiny silk stars. Woven in dark blues, purples, and greens they covered the whole of the dress, but were only noticeable when one looked for them. If the observer had an eye for constellations they'd notice all of the usual ones, in their astrographically correct positions, along with a number of more esoteric designs. This being one of her own pieces meant it was a single, seamless whole and practically clung to her body. Across her chest and down her shoulders were a particular chain of alchemical symbols that actually covered the process of the basic stages of the production of various alchemical fires in shades of red silk indicating the potency with the brighter, more potent symbols trailing up her arms and around her collar bone before crossing over her shoulder blades. Now the piece was neatly completed with a number of white symbols detailing the creation of wildfire in an unbroken runic band made from raw silk that wrapped around her throat.

While the new additions were smooth and flawless, it was also a bit bold of her to loudly broadcast such secrets openly. However, when neither the old healer Robert - the man whom they'd met at Harrenhal - nor Marwyn had been able to dissect them she felt it was only… somewhat arrogant.

Enough that she had to complete the garment with a chain of gold moons that she let rest around her hips, each different link being the moon in a different phase, and ended the whole ensemble with a Dornish head scarf. This wasn't so much as to cover her hair, which fell down her back in a single wave, bundled with a silk cord fixed with a Valyrian steel clasp - made for her by Gendry and given to her by a chuckling Master Mott.

That it was shaped like a sunburst and engraved with the form of a woman made it clear who it was meant for.

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Okay can we all just take a minute to appreciate the raw dress porn here? Like I don't even normally care about close but goddamn! Leaving aside everyone else's dress all fitting their personality and cool in their own way can I just gush about Ophelia' for a moment!

Because that is not a dress it is an art piece! I know that Ophelia wouldn't bother looking for it but if at least a few women in that crowd are not ridiculously jealous and maybe one of two men. Hell, it is often forgotten but Ned is actually very fashion conscience in the book, though in a more awareness that appearances matter then anything else, I wouldn't be surprised if he is impressed! Are all her personal works like this? No wonder they go for ridiculous prices! If nothing else she has succeeded in advertising the glories of Dornish Silk. Though the people who are able to actually afford a dress by her in the room are probably just Cersei unless you are willing to go beyond mere money into raw favor trading.

I don't know how long you pent coming up with these description but they are as extravagant as the dresses themselves..

"Elia, sit still. You won't impress Ser Barristan if your hair falls into the soup. Besides, if you really want to be his squire, or at least pretend like it for the duration of this trip, then you're going to need to get used to this kind of thing." Nymeria was fussing with Elia's own braid, trying to get the youngest Snake present to let the second eldest pin it down.

"Eddric just gets to shave his head!"

The pout was audible.

"Yes and he's a boy that sleeps in the mud and cleans up horse crap. Do you want to spend your time doing that, or would you rather play with your friends?"

Grumbling, the twelve year old tried to dodge the question.

Nymeria just pinched her cheek.

"Use your words."

Trying to bat away her sister's hand, Elia gave in.

"I want to play with my friends."

"Then you will not shave your head and you will let me braid your hair."

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Elia: Yes mom!

Seriously this is the most mom moment in the entire story except maybe when Marissa was reminding Ophelia to eat properly. I know she is right here and they all certainly need to mom them into oblivion but Nymeria is officially the least fun Sand Snake. Though I will admit given the Sand Snake defintion of fun that is also a complement.

"You're making the face again."

Sarella chuckled at her and Ophelia tried not to retaliate by vividly describing what she was aware her parent was currently doing.

"He and the new woman are probably making us another sister."

Obara grunted and lightly bumped her shoulder.

"Don't worry too much, sister, we all know you'll dote on the baby as soon as you can."

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Ophelia: Just because you are right doesn't mean I don't get to pout about it okay!

Also Ophelia are you not an old hat at ignoring your Dad by now? Wasn't your range shrinking or something? Really you shouldn't be having this problem you nosey girl.

Slightly late, they were greeted by a pair of rather surprised guards - understandable considering Tyene had her clique of followers, Nymeria had a pair of lords already squabbling for her attention, Sarella was being escorted by her… alleged rival Anguy, and Obara was Obara and had actually been escorted by one Ser Robar Royce. Elia had, of course, run ahead to attend to Ser Barristan as the perhaps slightly over indulgent knight permitted her to.

And no Ophelia was not a hypocrite and she did not spoil her younger siblings any more than was absolutely necessary.

Just like how she was no more paranoid than was absolutely prudent and practical.

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The girls are rolling up fashionable late I see. I suppose they need to give everyone else time to prepare for just how fine they are.

And what was that thing you aid about denial regarding Obara again? I seem to have forgotten.

At the moment, her range was shrinking, enough that it was less than it was in her last life by a fair margin. Standing in the hallway outside of the great hall she had a few dozen birds scattered throughout the room itself, a number of hounds and cats and rats enjoying the entertainment as they normally would, and a few dozen beasts watching the ways in and out - but that was it.

Her powers simply couldn't stretch further than they currently did and every insect of value she'd been able to gather were either hiding in her bed or was on her body. Even the couple hundred venomous spiders she had were starting to truly suffer in the northern weather.

But that would simply have to be enough.

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On one hand I want to mock her for complaining about being upset about merely being limited to "a couple hundred venomous spiders" but this is a serious problem. This is her most powerful tool and it is severally being weakened when it is needed. She is a bit busy now but I sincerely hope Ophelia investigate why this is and how to counter it as time goes on. This is still the girl who made a hobby out of finding new way to horrify people with the possibilities of insect control after all.

"Come on! I know you want to play with the giant puppies, but they belong to the Starks and you can't just break into the kennels. That's the kind of thing that causes problems!"

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*Gasp* Are you mad! Of course you should play with the giant puppies. If they cause problem it is the kind like getting another magic sword, whatever problems they cause are well worth the tremendous gains!

Your Mission is now this Opehlia:
Step 1: find Kennels
Step 2: Release Direwolves Puppies
Step 3: Enjoy Direwolf Puppy pile
Step 4: Enjoy have won at life!

That meant the duo was the first of the Sand Snakes to enter the hall proper, the meal having started its first course and Robert having gotten it all going in as blunt a manner as was possible.

Coming into the room, a wall of sound practically knocked her off her feet as she realized just how many people had been crammed onto a series of nine tables. One sat at the far end of the hall on a raised platform, this one for the high lords and visiting notables, and was occupied by the royal family, Ophelia's father, Dame Delilah Waters - the woman he was currently so infatuated with, the Starks, Tyrion Lannister, and a bemused looking Brynden Tully. Notably, Lords Peyne and Bracken hadn't won an invitation to dine with the king but, instead, sat at the heads of the nearest of the eight tables that filled the center of the room.

Of the additional notables, the Kingsguard was on duty and in their full regalia, Sandor Clegane loomed in the shadows behind the crown prince, Lords Dondarrian and Dayne had also won seats close to the high table - though it seemed the elder of the two was more interested in drinking with a giant of a man Ophelia suspected was Lord Umber.

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Well if nothing else you can't say that Robert doesn't know how to party big. Awfully ballsy of Oberyn to bring his bastard lady knight current lover to the table when Lord of major houses aren't getting a seat. In certainly is not surprising though I do wonder if it is for the best when Deliah is certinaly going to draw jelousy for it.

"Leave the poor man alone. You've practically broken the red priest."

Raising an eyebrow, the witch made a gesture that seemed to communicate the idea of obvious incredulity.

"Who? Me? How can you level such slanderous accusations against your own blood!"

Going through a series of expressions, the archer settled on resigned and somewhat pitying.

"You know he feels partly responsible for what happened to you at Harrenhal. Don't make him hurt any more, ok? Don't… don't do what Tyene would."

Flinching slightly, the witch opened her mouth to retort before, slowly, closing it. Because the truth was that her plan had been to poke at him, maybe pry a few more bits of information out of him and ply him with liquor. And that was wrong. Evil. Fucked up.

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Sigh... would it really be a Taylor fic if she didn't regret her decisions? I mean it speaks well of her character and is a good thing but it might be a bit too late gor that now.

"I'm going to be witchy. But I'm not going to be bitchy."

Snorting, the elder sister squeezed her hand and Ophelia knew she was forgiven.

"And you say you don't want me picking up your lingo. Go on, I trust you. I'm gonna go ruin Anguy's night because he's way too quick to jump at the first pair of tits to look his way."

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That's her officer! That is the girl who murdered our language! Dear God shoot to kill while you have the chance!

On the whole, the only other face of any import she couldn't spot was the Darkstar. Gerold, like Healer Robert, were simply not at the feast. So, thinking on it, she made her way to Marwyn and tapped him on the shoulder, drawing him away from his drinking companions.

'That feels important. I must be missing something.'

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Well you are in the North! I think it might be time to get in touch with your inner Bolton and flay this bastard alive. I mean A naked man has few secret, a flayed man none but a man flayed alive by insects has given you the secrets of every man who is smart enough to save their skin when they piss you off in the future.

Seriously I do not know why he is not in a cell covered in spiders right now.

"My dear, before you continue attempting to apologize - allow me to stop you." Marwyn interjected. "While you might be suffering from a great deal of vestigial morality, I would much rather we acquire the secrets of the Red Priests."

Raising an eyebrow, the witch did her best not to let her tone grow too dry.

"You may not have many more nights worth of sleep to lose, old man, but I would like to avoid crows feet for a few more years at least."

"Come now lass." This time it was Thoros who spoke, chuckling. "Where's the fun in being young if you can't break all of the rules?"

Sighing, Ophelia did the only thing she could.

"Gods help me. I'm trying not to act like my sisters."

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Yeah like I said it is a little late for "I'm sorry" now for Thoros. Also I think it is important to take not of Marwyn's weaker morals here. He might not be as outright insane regard his pursuit of magic as you might see from some people but it is still very strong.

"Even if you're right, don't remind me. No. I shall still teach you, as was agreed upon. But this time I shall do it because I choose to do it." Closing his eyes, the once lusty and raucous mercenary seemed to sink in a little. "And because, perhaps, it shall be needed."

"A vision." Marwyn's words were so low they were almost lost in the roar of the crowd and Thoros glared at the man and shook his head.

"Don't call it that."

"Since Harrenhal." Ophelia nodded slowly. "That's why you didn't drink for three days."

"Spying on me Witch Girl?"

Laughing, she brushed the implications away.

"No, I just noticed you didn't smell like fermented grapes for the first leg of the return journey."

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Oh shit! This would be good news if R'hllor wasn't practically the definition of a shady god. Doesn't surprise me it would have plans for Ophelia at this point. I imagine the list of magic entities that doesn't is shorter then the opposite by now.

And so like this the feast passed, Ophelia doing her best to relax, contenting herself to trade barbs with the other magicals, then with some of the nearby Northmen. This led to a few making fools of themselves when they tried to test her to see if she was a real witch - and nearly getting their beards singed off for their trouble. Ironically, it had been her temper that had won her more friends than anything else.

Apparently not taking crap from anyone, regardless of who you were, was a trait the First Men still admired to this day.

Ophelia approved.

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Ha! I wonder if Sansa is eating her words now about magic not being real. You know you are in the right place when burning of few faces gets you respect.

More than she did about the king loudly promising hangover cures to any man who had his favor. Something which led to a great deal of drunken boasting, then a bit of fighting, then the Lord Stark bodily picking one of his bannermen up and throwing him back into the crowd when the foolish young lord had tried to approach the high table.

A crowd that then carried said young, foolish man over to the door of the great hall, out past the entrance to the keep, and dumped him - face first - into a snow drift.

Of course, none of that stopped Robert from liberally handing out the glass vials - keeping a flask of her potion for himself - to any and every who would "risk the witch's miracle brew."

Which was now all but gone….

'Maybe I should warn him about it?' It would be the just and righteous thing to do.

…

But not the most entertaining.

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Well good on Robert for helping Ophelia advertise her potion making to as wide audience as possible! God help his soon to be sober soul for the consequences though. Sorry everyone but while the first hit is free giving it out to all takers does tend to deplete supply.

Doubly so now that Robert had just raised another toast and drained another flagon of ale in celebration of the fact that her father had gotten Dame Delilah Waters with child - there would be another Sand Snake in eight months or so, and the mother to be was the only person at the high table who did not drink to that.

Coincidentally that was that toast was when she saw her father start to waver in his seat a bit, no longer able to fully support himself as he drank and danced and cheered with all the more fervor - ever ecstatic to add to his family.

And it just so happened that the famous Witch of Dorne had inherited some of her father's infamous sense of humor. It was ever so delightful to watch someone hang themselves with the rope you offered to them in good faith. Especially when her father forgot to inform her that she would have a new sibling to spoil and look after.

By tomorrow morning she would be sure to let the King know he was down to his last flask of potion… and that the poor prince had used all of his.

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Yes! New Sand Snake everybody! I just know that there is going to be some reveal about Deliah now though. It is just too much for the mother of Ophelia's newest sibling to not have something about her now.

Also I so look forward to Oberyn have to deal with his hangover after this! You earned it buddy.

The Queen would share in her amusement, Ophelia was sure of it. Doubly so considering that Good King Robert, upon realizing just how handsy he was getting with some of the Stark serving girls had, in his drunkenness, scooped his royal wife up and deposited her on his lap.

Neither Cersei nor Jaimie had been pleased at that, but the suspiciously still loyal, and slightly nervous, Tyrion Lannister had actually seemed rather exquisitely amused by the whole thing.

Unfortunately for the queen, the two estranged royals would have to keep up appearances by toleration one another for the foreseeable future - though they had been, blessedly, given separate rooms. After all, Winterfell could host a hundred thousand strong army, a bit of extra heating for the Royal Family wasn't even an issue.

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Yeah it was inevitable something like this would happen. Winterfell might be able to hit a hundred thousand strong army but it is not big enough to hold half the toxicity in Robert and Cersei's marriage.

All of this jovialness, the singing, the seven course feast, the drinking, the minstrels performing and the jugglers and acrobats and the dancing - which Ophelia had found herself being forced into partaking in - had somewhat gotten to her.

It was when she was cheek to stomach with the Greatjon Umber himself, the blasted half giant practically spinning her around the room, that she realized something.

She was having fun.

The Witch of Dorne was laughing as she flew through the air… and she was having fun.

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Taylor Hebert having fun! My god it took two lives and the strength of a Half-giant but it actually happened! I knew magic was real in Westeros but I didn't want to believe it was possible.

Immediately the urge to investigate every nook and cranny in the castle slammed into her. Something was obviously going to happen soon and not knowing what it was made the normally omniscient Witch feel like she was half blind and half deaf without the full backing of her swarm. Even worse, it was obviously going to be proportional to the amount of fun she was having now and that meant it was going to be violent, explosive, and someone that was important might lose their life.

It didn't help that the cold weather did wonders to limit the number of critters available to create a new swarm. And her ever reduced range wasn't much help either. Only after a few days would she be able to have the full picture of Winterfell - and even then her exploration would be limited by the reduced size of her swarm and the temperature.

Low temperatures were hell on earth for bugs and those remained her most useful tools.

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God this is tragic. A fifteen year old girl whose immediate response to real joy is to paranoidly look for what will come along to punish her for it. Worse is that it is almost justified because of just how often her life as Taylor showed her that was the correct choice. Worst of all is that given this is Westeros actually letting her guard down even after all this time healing might be wrong as well. Like it or not soon one of the many issues of Westeros is going to put her back in the line of fire and it could happen at anytime with little chance to stop it.

But it was when she had finished a second dance with her father that exhaustion truly claimed her. Stuffed to the brim, ever so slightly buzzed, and enjoying the high of physical exertion she waved goodnight to her dinner companions - the dozen northern lords she'd come to know all cheering for her as she left - and waved goodbye to the high table too.

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I have to say that is a good response to be getting. Most people know to be a Witch would not be getting any positive approval like this let alone from many powerful figures.

"Come in Ophelia."

Hand raised at the doorway to knock, she paused, swallowing, only the knowledge that the two weren't… indisposed allowed her to turn the knob and ignore the vague feeling of dread.

"How did you-"

"Know it was you?" The witch was floored when she entered and snapped her jaw shut. "Simple my dear. Robert would have stumbled into his bed to pass out, Jaimie would have made noise coming down the hallway, and it's not your father that would pay me a late night visit."

Lounging before her was something she knew men would have killed to be able to simply see.

"So. What's going to happen now?"

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If you are smart nothing! Walk away Ophelia!

Look Tyene getting in bed with Cersei was high risk but manageable. Do you know why that was though? Because Tyene is a sociopath who could just as easily stab the person she has been sleeping with for months. You do not have that capability and if you had to make that choice when, not if when, the Lannister rivalry turns more hostile it would destroy you.

I understand why this is happening, Tyene's lustful obsessions' almost make this unsurprising that she would attempt this. Cersei's mix of issues would make the idea appeal to her, she has always seen sexuality as a weapon or tool she can use. A sexual relationship with Ophelia would appeal to her desire to have more influence over someone she has found more and more important as time goes on. Hell their is probably more of a genuine emotional connection between those two then the vast majority of her partners so I can see why she would accept the idea if prompted. She is arguable even right to do it! Ophelia is genuinely a lot less likely to betray her after a night in her bed which for all her affection for her is a risk she would be a fool to deny entirely.

I even understand that Ophelia is still a teenager full of hormone trying to figure out her sexuality even if she has Taylor's life experience to fall back on. But at the end of the day this can only lead to disaster! Understanding why a stick of dynamite will explode does not make it any better to watch it happen.

 

[Organmonkey]

So Jon is potentially going to Dorne. That could have some very interesting effects.

 

[raisins]

matriculations and crenulations

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machicolations and crenellations

Spellcheck has failed you twice in a row. Incidentally, I had never heard of the word machiolation.

 

[Hopellopo]

AN: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, readers across the internet! Wyvern and the Warhawk, Team Scrishaw, proudly brings to you the next installment of the Wicked Witch of the West(eros). An extra large chapter to commemorate the beginning of the long awaited Winterfell Arc!

AtW: Perhaps we're getting our groove back, but I can say all of the drama seriously hampered my will power to keep pushing ahead. I'm glad we did though.

CW: Hopefully we can start getting back some momentum!

AtW: Annnnd depending on certain bits of feedback, we may or may not have something special for QQ planned. So. You know. Let us know if you want the obvious XD (Yes my laughter is nervous, why do you ask?)

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I'm thrilled to hear that y'all are feeling better; I'm dying to see where this story is going. Good chapter, and I look forward to future updates, regular or QQ exclusive. Both should be fun.

 

[Rakaan]

If he's the dick, does that make you the cunt?

And if you don't even like this story what are you doing here?

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One story among hundreds being followed casually. I just find people holding something hostage because of internet-rage entertaining.

 

[Prognostic Hannya]

There WAS going to be a NSFW scene as a QQ exclusive. But if you want to be a dick about it, nah.

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On the one hand, I really want the lewds, but on the other I find that level of saltiness absolutely hilarious.

 

[rad]

Good bit of set up there. When it comes to the conversation between Oberyn and Ned I feel like that should have happened in canon. With the way that Oberyn was supposed to have traveled around so much over the years you would think that he would have stopped by the North to check in on that.

Also, the family interaction that the Snakes have is something that I continue to like. The dressing/planning scenes in particular as well as the start of the feast. It would be very easy to simply have them as a set which effectively acts as a single character. Instead they seem to have their own voices, moods, etc which while straining is a hell of a lot better than what many actual books will do when given a similar situation.

My one real question is where the Tyrion bit is going. I mean, I like Tyrion and everything but the scene does seem a bit out of place unless there are plans for more of him in this next arc.

 

[stads]

nice chapter thx for writing it
will be interesting to see if john ill join asa squire or not

 

[Kildar]

There WAS going to be a NSFW scene as a QQ exclusive. But if you want to be a dick about it, nah.

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On one hand this really really sucks.... on the other hand
That's bloody hilarious mate, good on ya.

I don't suppose I could convince you to send it via PM's to everyone else? So that I can have my cake AND eat it too?

 

[Mr Zoat]

Finally! Someone not going with the television answer for the identity of Jon's mother!

 

[Oddboy]

Finally! Someone not going with the television answer for the identity of Jon's mother!

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That's TV series thing only, then? I've never read the books.

I assumed it was true in both versions.

 

[Mr Zoat]

That's TV series thing only, then? I've never read the books.

I assumed it was true in both versions.

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The books haven't gotten that far yet. It's possible that it will be true in the books as well eventually, but it's been a while since the last one and I've sort of given up. I mean, Mr. Martin looks like a heart attack waiting to happen.