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***
Darken Rahl.
We have been in Winterfell for almost a month.
In that month, we've had time to do a lot of things before King Robert arrived. Make new acquaintances, make friends with the Starks, go hunting a few times. Attend the execution of a deserter from the Watch. His story about the walkers amused me. I knew exactly what the threat beyond the wall was. But the Northerners didn't believe it, though their traditions and customs are strong.
Rhys and John were the most entertaining.
Rhys often fought fist fights, and Jon managed to beat up and disgracefully soil Baelon's son a couple of times in "friendly fights". I enjoyed watching this and became convinced that Greyjoy is a Greyjoy. Perhaps it's the excesses of his position here and a rambling upbringing that carried with it the traditions of the Ironborn, the "family principles" of House Tully, and the "northern nobility" of the Starks. In general, if Euron saw the laughingstock that calls himself his nephew, he would strangle him or bury him alive in the ground. He would not drown him. He wouldn't "anger the Dead God" with such a disgusting sacrifice....
Dragons...
Rhys and Jon had arranged a meeting with their Grey Knight and Drygon. People feared, admired, and urinated with fear or else joy at seeing living dragons. Legends that descended from heaven to earth. They were huge to the Northmen and mighty. However, they had not yet seen the Nightmare.....
They were fed at the Starks' expense for almost a whole day, and then the brave ones asked Reese and Jon for a ride on the backs of dragons. There were only four such daredevils: Arya, Bran, Robb, and their father Ned Stark.
They were excited and pleased with the little flight, which was at most three hundred metres high, quite low for creatures of fire and lords of the sky. But it was enough for the people.
True, after that day, no one asked to ride the dragons again. It was either fear or an order from the Lord of Winterfell. And the two dragons that had arrived began patrolling the North once more.
My Nightmare informed me that he wanted to go to the Sea of Darkness for a walk, and I let him go.
Lately, I've noticed that a young Stark named Sansa has been looking at me and blushing. It pleased me, for in the first week of our acquaintance she had shunned both Jon and me. Now she seemed to buy into that image of the noble lord from the east.
The younger Arya has been spending more time with Nyssa. Mord-Sith has been answering her questions about the warriors of my empire. She intends to follow in the footsteps of Aegon Targaryen's older sister and her aunt. Boy-girl, as Rhys once told me about one of the warrior women from Sarnor (not Miriam).
Lady Caitlin, on the other hand, has become quite wary of us. We don't overstay our welcome, of course. We've been out a couple of times for almost a week to the Dreadfort and Castle Servin (the closest Stark vassals). And we've mentioned we'll be leaving for the South soon. I've also made plans to visit Cailin's Moat, Riverrun, King's Landing, Storm's End, Targaryen Summer Castle, Tower of Joy, and Sunspear. These are the must-see destinations for me. But Rhys still insisted on stopping by Casterly Rock and Highgarden and Old Town. John wanted to visit the "glories of his ancestors" first, even Dragonstone. But I guess that's for later...
So, a month after we arrived at Winterfell, Robert Baratheon arrived.
The guests poured through the gates of Winterfell in rivers of gold, silver, and steel. A troop of two hundred swords with the cats of House Baratheon, proud bannermen and knights, sworn mercenaries and free riders. There were many in his guard....
Above their heads, the north wind rubbed a dozen golden banners embroidered with the Baratheon crowned stag.
I knew many of them, or rather I know much about all of them, even what they didn't know about themselves. Ser Jaime Lannister, better known as the Kingslayer. A man with hair as light as gold. He was followed by Sandor Clegane's burnt face, eerie to the unsophisticated viewer. And next to him, the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms was "majestically" walking along, and the short man behind them all was Tyrion Lannister, the man Tywin hates most in life....
The tall, dark-haired man leading the column was none other than Robert Baratheon. True, there was little of the old Robert left, all spoilt by his excessive weight. Even his old friend didn't seem to recognise him as his comrade.
When he reached him almost in close quarters and dismounted from his horse, he spoke:
- Ned! Oh, how glad I am to see your icy and lean face again! - The king looked him over from top to bottom and laughed. - You haven't changed at all. Except that you have a little more grey hair.
- Your Serene Highness, Winterfell is at your service. - the Stark muttered the etiquette.
By this time, the stableboys had started to dismount and the rest of the men moved to lead the horses away.
Queen Roberta, the beautiful Cersei Lannister, entered the gates on foot with her youngest children. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, and meanwhile Robert embraced Catelyn like a sister. Then the children were called, they were introduced, and both parents approved of the youngsters.
Neither I nor my companions were outside. All this I watched with the eyes of a simple mouse.
When the formal greeting and all the formalities were completed, the king said to the master of the castle:
- Take me to your crypt, Eddard. I must pay my respects.
This terribly displeased his wife, however, he immediately shut her up. The situation was saved by Lady Caitlin, who suggested that the queen should see to the preparation of the quarters for the royal couple together.
Next I followed the two old friends already in the crypt.
Their conversation was rather boring, as far as I was concerned, but quite understandable. There was an interesting moment, though. It turned out that Robert had insisted that Eddard keep us here for a while. He wanted to see the three dragon riders, and indeed to see the bastard son of his old friend and the Dharian men.
Ned promised we'd meet, and it looks like tonight's feast in honour of the king's arrival will do just that.
Jon Snow.
Now Jon Snow, or sometimes as he refers to himself as Aegon Targaryen, is rejoicing that his uncle has brought his sister's son to the North as a bastard. Now, after five years of instruction by Master Rahl, he has begun to realise that there is much upside to his false status. In fact, there were always pros and cons to any situation.
For example, there is nothing to stop him now, no need to watch his manners and be ashamed of Lady Caitlin. He is her husband's bastard, which is only a guest here, but an honoured guest from the young empire. He is his own master... unless you count Master Rahl, who under the guise of "Lord Darke" is now talking to King Robert himself.
Robert disappointed him. He was nothing like the "Trident demon" he had once heard about as a child from Ned Stark. Either his father didn't know what Robert had become, or there was something wrong with the Lord of the North's memory....
At the fourth hour of the feast in honour of the king and his family, Ghost, a young lute-wolf that had been found a couple of weeks ago in the forest while walking with his relatives, pulled him up by the pant leg and ran towards the exit.
Jon realised he wanted to walk with him and after apologising to the guests and owners of this castle he went outside.
- Lord Snow! - An unknown voice called out to him. Jon turned round and saw Tyrion Lannister sitting on the porch in front of the door of the great hall. The dwarf smirked. - 'Is that animal called a wolf?
- 'A direwolf,' Jon replied and stroked the animal's head. - His name is Ghost. Why aren't you at the feast?
- It's too hot, too noisy, and I've had too much wine," said the dwarf. - I learnt a long time ago that throwing up on one's own brother is disrespectful. And I'm not going to make my sister feel any better, but who cares about my sister? - he laughed. - Say, can I get a closer look at your wolf?
- A direwolf. - John corrected him again. - Yes, you can.
- Won't it bite your finger off? - Tyrion came closer, curious.
- No. He won't do anything bad without a command.
Tyrion savoured the animal's soft white fur for a moment, then spoke again:
- You are Lord Stark's bastard, aren't you?
- Yes," Snow nodded.
- You don't seem to care much about that. Though I've seen the way Lady Stark looks at you. Few can be so cowardly about their origins, especially here in the North.
- I'm a bastard! You can't change that. - Jon shrugged his shoulders as if nothing had happened. - If you, Tyrion Lannister, had called me bastard, even without malice or intent to offend, I would have taken offence. But Master Rahl has taught me many things. First and foremost, to see things in things that others refuse to see because of prejudice. Being a bastard has given me the opportunity to be "forgotten" by my kin and to make a better life for myself in Panizhart, and to make a real difference.
- You mean you wore your bastard status like armour? - smiled the Imp.
- Like armour? - John said thoughtfully. - That's an interesting phrase, but no, it's more of a tool for me. Something I use to realise my goals.
- You're an interesting guy. You were born in the North, the son of Lord Stark. You don't have a Stark mindset.
- That's true. In fact, I wasn't born in the North. And it wasn't just Lord Stark who raised me.
- That's interesting.
After talking some more and walking in the frosty air, the two "bastards of their fathers" went back inside. Where they sat down again at the table. Cersei Lannister and Catelyn Tully looked at them unhappily, but said nothing. In fact, they didn't need to. For Ser Jaime Lannister, the famous blond man of Westeros, had approached them.
- Tyrion, where have you been? - His brother asked. - The princess has been looking for you half the night. It's about time you had a word with your niece for today.
- Eh! I'm sorry, John, but I'll leave you to it. - muttered the dwarf and got up from the table.
- John? Oh, yes! Jon Snow, the Dragonlord! That's the famous bastard of the North. I hear you wield two Valyrian swords at once? - smiled the Kingslayer.
- Hm. Ser Jaime Lannister... Kingslayer. - Jon snorted and snidely extended the last word, making the smile almost fade from Jaime's lips, and Cesrea's face flush with anger and hatred for the boy. - You've made quite a name for yourself in the world. It's a pleasure to meet you.
They shook hands. At the same time they did not let go of each other even during the conversation, and more and more squeezed the hand of the opponent. Even the other Dharians and King Robert and his future right hand man were staring at this. No one interrupted them, they only listened to them:
- Is my martial glory rattling on the Steps as well?
- No. Your "battle glory" is little known. What is known most is your noble deed that saved many lives. - Jaime finally stopped grinning. - About killing King Aerys the Mad. - At that moment, Jaime realised that Jon wasn't letting go of his hand, but was squeezing it harder and pressing it against his side, patting his shoulder with his free hand. - We owe you big time. I hope you will be as vigilant in guarding and serving with all your bravery and courage. After all, who can His Majesty rely on but you?
There were chuckles and whispers from some of the courtiers, who were clearly on the side of Ned Stark's bastard. It made Jaime angry.
- Then how would you Lord Snow like me to teach you a little of these important qualities so you can better serve Emperor Rahl?
- Well, if you're talking about fighting skills, it's worth a try.
- So be it! - Robert cheerfully exclaimed and got to his feet, staggering a little. - There will be a tournament in King's Landing to celebrate the appointment of the new Hand. I wish to see a showdown between Jon Snow and Jaime Lannister. Lord Dark said you were going there soon anyway. Here you go with us.
The two "duelists" listened little to Robert's drunken ramblings, but rather to thoughts of their defeated opponent.
The rest of the feast passed more or less peacefully.
***
Darken Rahl.
A couple of days later, tragedy struck in House Stark. The Stark middle son fell from the old tower and did not regain consciousness for a long time. Maester Luwin tried his best to help the boy, but could not. So the next day Jon, even without my instruction, "spouted off" about the marvellous knowledge of "Lord Darken", and the even greater abilities of Darken Rahl. And that there was a possibility of healing the boy.
Eddard Stark at first resisted the very idea that "some sorcerer" would conjure something on his son. And Lady Catelyn resisted it even more. And I think it had more to do with the person who proposed the idea than with me.
Anyway, three days later, Stark himself came to me and asked me about my abilities as a healer. I replied, of course, that I could heal a person of serious illnesses and wounds. But it would be best if I did a little examination. I didn't need an examination. We worked out this situation with the Blood Raven with Bran's fall. And the Lannister twins helped us without knowing it.
A couple of hours of manipulation of his body and the boy was cured. I could have cured him quicker, but it took a little more time to get the right effect and impress his parents.
And as a result, they regarded me as his saviour. They thanked me and even wanted to pay me for it. I immediately refused, as it was insulting to me. Although I guess the Starks misunderstood me a little. I thought it was insulting not because of altruistic motives, but because the emperor of an entire empire couldn't take money for such a thing. However, it's a small matter....
I advised Bran to stay in Winterfell to recover, as his situation might worsen on the road, and I was partially correct. So he and Lady Catelyn and her two other sons stayed in the capital of the North. And we all set out for the South. Lord Eddard had made up his mind about his friend and decided to be his Hand.
And just as we were over the Isthmus, we heard news from Winterfell. An attempt had been made on the boy's life. The assassin tried to reach out and deliver a fatal blow to the sleeping boy, only to be saved by Lady Catelyn and the boy's direwolf. But in doing so, an oblique accidental blow managed to injure his legs, which subsequently affected his ability to walk.
The deed is done! Now Brandon Stark has only one way to go - Beyond the Wall!
To be continued...