Enjoying the sensation of the somewhat warmed winds of the northern spring air warm her body, Lady Catelyn Stark stood tall in the courtyard before the main keep of Winterfell as she waited for her children and her husband to return from their voyage to White Harbor while beside her, her youngest son Rickon bounced excitedly from foot to foot as he waited with all the patience a boy his age could muster. And while she was most anxious to see the return of her children and her husband, the same could not necessarily be said of the return of the sorcerer and the boy.
Her feelings on the sorcerer were still…mixed, to say the least. The practical side of her, which had become more and more prevalent with each passing year she spent in the North, recognized the benefit the sorcerer had brought to the land and the continued benefit he brought with just his mere presence. However, that practical part of her heart was at constant war with her faith, the core of who she was. The Faith of the Seven did not have a favorable view on magic. It was unnatural. Such power belonged with the gods and the gods alone. After all, it was magic that destroyed the greatest civilization ever known. In fact, it was said that it was magic that was the cause of the Long Night during the Age of Heroes, if one were to believe such things.
Yet, she had trouble finding these words to be true. Her children, even Sansa despite not being an active participant, all had this magic the sorcerer could wield. Even her youngest son by her side. If magic were indeed evil as was known in the Faith of the Seven, then why were her children cursed with it? For years, this question plagued her mind and kept her awake many a night as she knelt before the statues of the Seven in her small Sept, praying for guidance. But as the years wore on and the Seven refused to answer her questions, she began to have…doubts. Watching her children practice this…unnatural ability at first set her teeth on edge. But now…now she was starting to see the benefits. And none of her children were falling to darkness that was said to curse all those who used magic.
After more than one infuriating conversation with the sorcerer, she swore that man could sway even the wisest man alive with but a few words, she came to a startling revelation. Magic, or this Force as he insisted on calling it, was not inherently good nor evil. But rather, it was the actions that were taken with it that made it good or evil. Much the same as a sword. It was simply a tool. One that could be used for great evil or one that could be used for good. It all depended on the wielder. And with that mindset, Cat had stopped trying to prevent her children from learning magic, which was a futile task to begin with. Rather she tried to guide her children to only do good. And she felt that, with the absence of the sorcerer, that she had been able to make some ground with her children and her teachings. But now with his return, the gods only knew what would happen as his apparent hold over her husband and children were quite strong.
Her dear friend Petyr had suggested that she get Ned to grant the sorcerer a tower or keep outside of Winterfell to keep his influence from growing more than it already was. And she had brought the idea up to her husband, leaving aside the want to wane his steadily growing influence over her children. The idea seemed to take on even more merit when she brought up the former-serving girl Nyra's pregnancy. If the sorcerer had even a shred of honor, which she knew he did especially now that they had received a raven a week past announcing that the sorcerer and Nyra would be wed beneath the weirwood in Winterfell upon the conclusion of her son's fair, then the sorcerer would be honor-bound to marry the girl and raise her to the ranks of nobility. They would then start their own House, which had technically already been started when the King had declared Lord Nox as a Lord. And they would need a place of their own to start their family. There were many abandoned towers and keeps around the North. Hells, even Moat Cailian was a valuable option. But in the end, her idea was dismissed by Ned.
At first she had been irritated by the dismissal, but then Ned had explained to her that Nox was still very much needed in Winterfell as the College he had founded was still in its infancy and their children needed a teacher to guide them through the usage of their magic. In the end, she had conceded the point and had resigned herself to making sure that the sorcerer's grip on her husband and children did not grow any more than it already had.
The boy however, Jon, her feelings on him were perhaps even more mixed than they were on the sorcerer. After her foolish display in the godswood years ago when she foolishly admitted her promise to the old gods she had tried, Seven help her she had tried, to not hate the boy at the very least. But it was hard. So very hard. He was the living embodiment of her husband's dishonoring of her. Just the mere sight of him was enough send a wave of anger and fear through her. He looked more like a Stark than her own trueborn children. Every day she feared that he would awaken to his bastard nature and covet that which was not his by right. How long until he turned against her sons? How long until he tried to forcibly take her daughters? These thoughts plagued her for years.
Yet as the years wore on, she found herself more and more conflicted. Jon…he simply did not act as she was taught that all bastards did. He genuinely seemed to care for her children, his trueborn siblings. He never held his accomplishments above their heads. Instead if he managed to succeed where her children failed, he tried to help them overcome what had set them apart. It wasn't right! He wasn't like a bastard. He wasn't acting as her tutors in the faith and her family had always claimed bastards acted like. She'd said as much to Petyr, and he advised caution. The boy might be only putting on an act. Waiting until the right moment to strike when her, her husband and her children would least expect it. She tried to find the deceit in him just like Petyr advised, but it was always for not. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was one of the rare few exceptions to the nature of a bastard? But even if that were the case, she would not truly feel safe for herself and her children's future until he was well away from Winterfell. Either in a keep of his own or at the Wall, she didn't care. She just wanted—no, needed him gone.
"Relax, Cat. You'll wear the soles out of those boots of yours if you keep shifting your weight like that."
Smiling, Cat turned her head slightly. Standing just beside her in the armor and livery representative of their house was her uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, the Knight of the Gate for House Arryn. His arrival with the Lords that'd had come representing the Vale had been a surprise, but a very pleasant surprise. In some instances, her Uncle was almost more of a father to Lysa, Edmure and herself than their own father. He always took the time to listen to them or to help them whenever he could. And she had dearly missed his supportive presence ever since she wed Ned and became Lady Stark.
Looking down the line, she spied the other knights of the Vale that had accompanied her uncle on the journey north. And she couldn't wait to see the look on her daughter Sansa's face when she beheld true examples of southern knighthood. Beside her Uncle stood the impressive form of Lord Yohn Royce, the 'Bronze Yohn' along with his three sons: Andar, Robar and Waymar. The youngest of whom would be continuing North after the fair to take the Black and become a member of the Nights Watch. Beside the Yohn's stood yet another example of true knighthood in the form of Ser Lyn Corbray, whose battle prowess was proven during the Rebellion when he managed to cut down a member of the Kingsguard during the Battle of the Trident. And beside the famed knight was his squire Mychel Redfort from House Redfort. And standing next to the young squire was a young man with pale skin and even paler eyes. Domeric Bolton, the son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort and current squire to Lord Redfort of the Vale. If there was one house which truly managed to set her nerves on edge in the North, it would be the Bolton's. The family that was once herald as the 'Red Kings' of the North were infamous across Westeros, and their bloody history with the Starks was equally as well known. She could only pray that the young man's time in the Vale had weeded out the less savory aspects of his family lineage.
Standing next to the visiting Lords of the Vale were some of the Northern houses that had arrived for her son's fair and nameday while he and her husband went to White Harbor to welcome back the sorcerer and his expedition. Of those present, the ones of most note were House Cerwyn, House Glover, House Forrester and House Whitehill. The latter of the two houses had to be separated by House Glover as there was a blood feud between the two houses almost on the same level as the one between House Blackwood and House Bracken. A feud which had only escalated as of late as one of the sons of House Forrester had been caught in a dalliance with the only daughter of House Whitehill and had been forced into exile. Almost every other House of noble standing in the North, with a few notable exceptions like the Reed's, would be arriving at some time during the week leading up to her son's nameday, but so far those were the only families to have successfully made the voyage.
"I haven't done that in years Uncle," Cat replied fondly as she tried to calm her aching heart, waiting for her children and husband to return to her. "They haven't been gone long, not even a full moon, yet it has been the longest time in my life."
"It's because you love them Cat," her uncle responded with a light smile. "And I must say, the North has done wonders for you my dear niece. Motherhood and your position as a High Lady have suited you like a well-tailored glove."
Smiling at the complement, she was about to respond when one of the bells near the East Gate rang loudly, signaling the arrival of visitors. "They're back," she smiled, feeling her heart race with joy as she placed a hand on Rickon's shoulder to calm the boy down. "Calm Rickon, your father, brothers and sisters will be here soon."
Looking up at her, her youngest boy gave her a grin that nearly split his face in two as he obviously fought a steadily losing battle to stay where he was. Keeping her eyes trained on the far side of the courtyard, her heart nearly beat out of its chest as she started to make out the first of the riders emerging into the inner keep with her husband in the lead. It was all she could do to keep herself in place as she watched her husband, his head held high and his back straight, lead the column into Winterfell with Robb and the sorcerer by his side. She wanted to run to him, to take him in her arms and taste his lips once more. To hold her sons and kiss her daughters an—
"By the gods old and new! What is that?!"
Blinking, her eyes flickered to her uncle, noting his wide-eyed expression and the fact that his hand had fallen to the hilt of his sword before turning back to her husband. And when she did, she saw what had put her uncle, and indeed almost every other soul in Winterfell, on such guard. For walking beside her husband was a beast, a beast nearly as tall as the warhorse her husband rode upon with grey-white fur and yellow eyes. 'A wolf!' She thought, her heart steadily racing as she tried to come to terms with just what she was seeing before her. 'No. Not a wolf. A – A direwolf! The very sigil of House Stark made flesh! And—And it's walking beside Ned as if it belongs there! What – What is going on!?'
The only thing that kept her from shouting at the top of her lungs for the men of Winterfell to cut the beast down where it stood was the fact that Ned didn't seem even slightly perturbed by its presence. In fact, none of the men with her husband seemed to be even giving the wolf a second glance! How!? How could they just ignore such a dangerous creature standing so close to her husband? To her children? She couldn't understand it!
Watching her husband with bated breath, Ned calmly got down off of his charger when they were but a few dozen paces away and calmly patted the wolf atop it's head like it was just a common dog before making his way towards her. "Lord husband," Cat said, just barely managing to keep her voice steady as the various Lords and Ladies of the Vale and the North bowed in greeting of the Warden of the North. "Welcome…home…"
The wolf had not stayed back with the rest, preferring instead to stay by Ned's side as he approached her and stopping only when Ned came within arm's length of her. "It's good to be back Cat," Ned replied, taking her in his arms and giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek as was suitable for public displays. As he pulled back though, he quickly noticed that her attention was not on him, but rather on the wolf that was now sitting back on its haunches and nearly as tall as she.
"This is Winter," Ned explained, taking her hand in his own and almost pulling her forward so that her hand was near the beast's snout. "We found her and her pups on the road being attacked by a stag. Nox killed the stag and I – well bonded with her. She and her pups will be staying with us from here on. Winter, this is my wife, my mate, Catelyn Stark. Treat her as if she were an extension of me. And this is Rickon, my youngest pup."
Cat honestly thought that her husband had lost his mind, talking to a wolf as if it were just another one of his vassals. But surprisingly, the wolf almost seemed to bob its head as if it understood her husband perfectly before giving her hand a lick and then proceeded to do the same to Rickon, only this time the wolf caught her young son in the face with her tongue, bringing on more than a few squeals of laughter before bouncing off back towards the carriages and wagons. "Blackfish," her husband called out, breaking her out of her stupor as he greeted her uncle with a firm grasping of the arms. "It's been many years."
"Aye it has Lord Stark," her uncle replied, "and I must say, that is certainly an entrance to be remembered. Returning with the very sigil of your house. A creature long thought lost or that could only be found North of the Wall is extraordinary. Though I mu-"
"Pups," Cat murmured, catching the attention of her uncle and husband as she finally started to regain her wits about her. "You said, pups. What pups?"
Her question was answered as she watched the lead carriage be opened by her eldest with Jon and Nox standing right beside him. The moment the door was open, several little pups jumped out of the carriage and immediately started playing with one another. And then her eldest daughter emerged from the wagon a small grey wolf held tightly in her arms as if it were a newborn babe. "Mother!" Sansa laughed, all but running towards her with the young wolf pup cradled in her arms. "Isn't she precious! I named her Lady because she's a true Lady! Just like me!"
Cat honestly thought her heart was going to stop as she watched her eldest daughter, her perfect little lady, cuddling a pup that, while small now, would one day grow in size to potentially rival the beast that had walked beside Ned just a moment before. 'Gods! How will she control such a beast? It will be larger than her in but a few years! And Rickon, Bran, Arya…did Ned give each of them a pup as well? How will they control them?'
Her question was answered almost as soon as she thought it as she watched Arya and Bran bounce out of the carriage and immediately start playing with the yipping pups that were dancing around the legs of the men at arms of House Stark and Manderly. Rickon, unable to hold it in any long, bolted from her side and joined his siblings in playing with the wolves.
"By the gods," she heard one of the Northern Lords, Lord Glover she believed, gasp as he came to realization of some sort. "There are six pups…and six children of House Stark! Surely, this is a blessing from the gods of the North!"
Cat's heart soared at the words of the Northern Lord. A pup for each of her children. A direwolf pup. The very sigil of House Stark. Could this…Could this truly be a sign from the old gods? It had to be. But as quick as her elation came, it went as she fully caught on to what Lord Glover had said. Desperately, she counted the wolves playing around her children. Then she counted them again and then again. But no matter how many times she counted; it always came out the same. Including the pup in Sansa's arms, there were six pups playing in the yard with her children. Six. Not five. For there was one wolf, the smallest with a pure white fur that, while playing with its littermates, stayed mostly along the edges. Right next to the legs of Jon Snow.
'No!' she nearly wailed. 'Do the gods of the North truly mock me so? Is this their vengeance for not fulfilling my promise to them? Is this a sign of things to come? Why? Why do the gods mock me so? Why does the bastard son carry the Stark likeness and now gain the loyalty of a direwolf? Something that should only belong to those of House Stark! Why? Have I not started to atone in the eyes of the gods? When will enough be enough?'
"Cat?"
Giving herself a shake, she sent a grateful glance towards her uncle. "I'm fine, Uncle," she replied, doing her best to hide her anger and disappointment that the bastard would be as honored by the gods as her own trueborn children. "Just…surprised by, well, them."
Her Uncle nodded with understanding as he turned his attention back to the column that had just arrived. "I don't think the surprises are through just yet, Cat. You might need to have a talk with your son soon given the look in his eye."
Frowning, Cat turned her attention back to the lead wagon. Nyra had exited the wagon and was currently clutching tightly onto Lord Nox's arm. Her well rounded belly announcing loudly and clearly to those few who still did not know that she was indeed with child. And given the way she held onto the sorcerer's arm, there was little doubt on just who the father was. But that wasn't what had caught her uncle's eye nor made hers narrow. For there was a second girl that had exited the wagon. One that her son Robb was escorting forward along with Sansa. A girl with darker skin as if she were from Dorne. Immediately, her thoughts went to Ashara Dayne and the rumors that she'd heard of late, on how the woman was the supposed mother of Jon Snow. And that thought brought along another wave of jealously and a slight touch of fear. Had her son fallen to the same vice as his father? Were the men of the North so weak willed to the loose nature of the Dornish? Gods, she hoped not! Her son was just turning three-and-ten this week! He could not have done something so stupid yet. Could he have?
"Mother," Robb greeted her, letting go of the girl's arm. "This is Lady Talisa Maegyr of Volantis. She came back across the Narrow Sea aboard the Sea Wolf with Lord Nox and will be staying with us in Winterfell as she studies with Lord Nox and the other students at the College."
'Volantis?' she thought with a start as she felt both relieved and worried. 'Why is girl from Volantis here in the North? And the way Robb introduced her as a 'Lady', does she have noble blood in her? Is she truly here to study at the College under the sorcerer? Why? Surely, they have schools in Essos the girl could learn at if she so chose. Despite it being quite improper for a high-born lady to pursue such a future.'
Straightening her posture as much she could, she fixed the young woman with her best 'Lady of Winterfell' face. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Talisa Maegyr," Cat greeted the young woman, who couldn't be more than two years older than her son. "I hope that you find your stay here at Winterfell…enlightening."
The young woman didn't even bat an eyelash as she curtseyed in response to her greeting, completely unfazed at her look. "I believe I shall, Lady Stark. And I thank you for allowing me to stay with your family while I am here. Your sons and daughters have been a delight to be around since we left White Harbor."
"Talisa is absolutely wonderful, mother!" Sansa gushed, looking towards the older girl with shining eyes. "She's been telling us all about her home the whole way here! It sounds amazing! Well…despite the slavery thing and – oh! I'm sorry! I meant no offense, Talisa!"
"There was no offense Sansa," Talisa responded, making Cat's lips twitch as she noted that her daughter and the older girl were not addressing each other properly. "Indeed, the slavery of my homeland is the main reason I left in the first place and decided to come to Westeros. I wanted to be free of the vile practice."
She could hear many of the Lords present mumble in agreement to her words. How? How could she be winning the Lords and Ladies over so quickly?
"Talisa is really smart, and brave too, mother!" Sansa continued to gush as Ned left her side and started to work his way down the line of visiting Lords and Ladies in order to greet them all personally. "She helped Lord Nox develop a cure for greyscale! They even cured Lord Baratheon's daughter, um, Shireen! Yes, they even cured Shireen of greyscale on their way home! And after the Wildlings attacked us on the road, she didn't even hesitate to get out and help with the wounded despite all the bloo-"
"Wildlings?!" Cat gasped loudly, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the courtyard with her raised voice as she rounded back towards Ned. "What Wildlings?! And what attack?!"
Robb visibly winced, as did Sansa, who suddenly seemed to find the ground very interesting. "Um, I, uh, was supposed to let father tell you about that."
"It wasn't that big of a deal, mother," Arya replied, almost making Cat jump in shock as she hadn't even been aware of her youngest daughter's approach until she'd spoken from her place than a pace away from her. "Just a skirmish against some Wildlings. It was really boring too! I wanted to go out and fight, but Nyra and Talisa kept me in the carriage and only Robb and Jon got to fight them and then chase after them. I'm just as good as the both of them! Why couldn't I fight too?"
Cat felt her head lighten and the need to sit down, soon. "Robb… You…fought?"
"Aye," Robb, her eldest son and yet not even three-and-ten nameday, replied with a tone that betrayed his age. "The Wildlings attacked our people, my sisters and brother. I was not about to just on the side of the road and do nothing. Not when it is my sworn duty to protect the people of the North."
Cat would've swelled with pride at the conviction her son spoke with if not for the overbearing fear of what could have happened during the battle. But whatever she would've said was cut off when her uncle spoke up. "You're turning into a true man already. To have such conviction. Such a force of will at your age is commendable, nephew."
"Children," Cat cut in as she noted the confused look on her children's faces. "This is my uncle, your great-uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, the Knight of the Gate."
"None of that now, Cat," her uncle waved her off good naturedly, "I'm merely their uncle, nothing more and nothing less. And as for this young man, I can clearly see that he has indeed inherited the best of both his families already. He will make for a fine Warden in the North in due time."
Robb preened under the praise. "Thank you, Uncle. But it wasn't just I who fought. The men of House Stark and Manderly deserve most of the credit. As does Lord Nox and my father. They were the ones who rallied the defenses the moment the attack was launched."
"Do not undersell yourself, lad," Lord Royce cut in as he and his three sons joined the conversation. "Fighting Wildlings is no small feat. Be proud of what you did. And from what I hear, soon enough you will be the best sword in the North. Perhaps the whole of the Seven Kingdoms if anyone ever dares to challenge their arm against yours."
Again, Robb preened slightly under the praise of the legendary knight, but surprisingly he shook his head. "I'm afraid I will have to disagree with you, Lord Royce. If anyone has a chance of becoming a 'Sword of the North', it is my brother Jon. He was by far the better swordsman between the two of us before he left. And if anything, he has only gotten better, far better, during his brief time away."
"You say that your bastard brother is the better sword?" Ser Lyn Corbray chuckled. "A likely tale. No need to make him feel better about himself, young Lord."
"I'm not, Ser," Robb replied, shooting Ser Corbray a cold look that she had seen on his father's face one time too many. "Jon is by far the better swordsman. Perhaps the best in all of Winterfell, save for my father and Lord Nox. And he has already proven himself several times over. The most recent of which was when they stopped in Dorne and he handily defeated Ser Gerold Dayne in a duel. One that the knight broke the rules of by drawing live steel. Yet despite that, Jon still defeated him with nothing by a tourney blade." That drew several sharp looks from the knights of the Vale and the other Lords who were present.
"That boy…defeated Ser Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar?" Ser Corbray asked disbelievingly. "Well then, perhaps I shall have to test his arm myself and see if the title of 'Sword of the North' truly does deserve to be held by a bastard boy."
Cat could see that the words of the man were getting to her son. He wasn't breaking decorum by calling the boy what he was, but she knew that Jon's status was always a sore spot for both the boy and for Robb.
"Forgive me, my lords, I have been neglectful in my duties," she said quickly, trying to send a look towards her son to calm him down. "We are all introduced, and the servants are taking care of the carriages. Let us retreat back to the warmth of the Great Hall and I will have the servants send for some warmed ale."
"A fine idea, Cat," her uncle smiled before shooting a look at Ser Corbray that told the younger knight to tighten his lips without saying it. "Let's all get warm, my Lords. I don't know about all of you, but these old bones don't quite handle the cold like they used too. And while we do, my nephew here can regale us with tales about his first true battle."
Standing with his hands held tightly behind his back, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock Tywin Lannister stood before his mantle as he let the warmth of the fire burning within warm him. To say that the last few days at the Rock would be interesting would be highly understating matters. His youngest brother Gerion had returned at the head of a dozen Lannister honor-guards after being pulled out of the ruins of Valyria by none other than the Northern Sorcerer himself. And despite not claiming any of the plunder that'd been taken from Valyria for his own, his brother did not return empty handed. Despite his many, many failures, he had managed to succeed in one aspect of what he set out to accomplish in that he managed to return Brightroar back to its proper place.
He'd hoped that after hearing that the Sorcerer had been successful in his expedition and even managed to rescue his wayward brother that Gerion would manage to claim some of what had been taken from Valyria. But his brother didn't take anything more than a potential sum of what the sorcerer had claimed. A total sum that Tywin was sure would be a vast underestimation of its true worth. Yet again, he had to hand it to Lord Nox for his excellent play. Instead of sailing to King's Landing himself to offer the expected tribute to the crown, he had instead given the tribute to Tywin's brother with the request that he deliver it. By having the tribute delivered in this manner, the sorcerer ensured that no 'official' inventory of the loot was ever taken by the crown. So Lord Nox could simply report whatever value he wanted to the crown when the tax collectors came. A shrewd move. And one Tywin applauded and cursed the man for.
A grand feast had been held to celebrate Gerion's return, as was expected, but personally Tywin found little to celebrate. His brother had returned and with his family's ancestral sword, but that had been it. The pride of the Lannister fleet, a fleet that was still trying to recover from the sacking of Lannisport by the Greyjoys, was lost. As was its crew. While the crew was replaceable, a ship on level with the likes of the Laughing Lion was extremely expensive and time consuming to construct. And then there was the decree that he returned with as well. A decree of legitimization for his daughter Joy from the oaf Robert himself.
Pulling himself away from the hearth, Tywin slowly paced over to his desk as his mind worked over how to salvage several plans that had been in the works and were now thrown off by that one piece of paper. Ever since he'd met Lord Nox on Pyke all those years ago, he had been focused on a single task. Bringing the Sorcerer's power under the control of House Lannister and solidifying the Lion's place at the top of the hierarchy of Westeros's Great Houses for years to come. Unfortunately, this task was proving far more difficult than he had ever imagined. The most obvious way to achieve this goal would be to have the Sorcerer breed into the Lannister line directly. But that was simply not possible due to unfortunate timing. Tywin only had one daughter, Cersei, and she was now married and Queen of Westeros. There were options outside of Cersei of course. Namely his nieces by way of his brothers Janei and Joy. But neither was a good option at the present time for the Sorcerer. Janei though was still but a babe, barely a year old now. Joy was closer in age, though not by much, but marriages with wider age differences had occurred.
His sister Genna was another option. But she was unfortunately wedded, bedded and mother to four children. And while the idea of disposing of her incompetent husband Emmon Frey and replacing him with the Sorcerer was indeed tempting, his sister was nearing the end of her child rearing days and was not the beauty that she had once been. A harsh fact, but one of life. And he knew that if he were to catch the sorcerer in such a manner he would have to do so with the pride and joy of the lionesses of Casterly Rock. So, while he wanted the power of the Sorcerer bred directly into the Lannister line, he unfortunately had to let go of gaining the Sorcerer through a marriage into the direct Lannister line.
But then he was gifted a second chance when the eyes and ears Tyrion had arranged to be put in place sent news of the Stark children, including the bastard son, not only having the same power as the Sorcerer but also of them being trained directly by the Sorcerer to use said powers. While the Sorcerer was the true prize, he would settle for a Stark child if they had the same power. And while many would obviously seek out to grab hold of the Heir, Robb Stark was the first one of the Stark children he eliminated from his list. As heir, Robb Stark would stay in Winterfell, and whoever married him would become the next Lady Stark, not Lannister. Which defeated the whole purpose of what he was trying to achieve.
Luckily, the Tully girl had proved herself quite fertile and had given birth to several options for him to choose from. The eldest girl was an attractive option. Word was that she was already turning into a beauty that could rival her mother and was every inch a Lady as any Lord could hope to obtain. A betrothal to Jamie would've been preferred, but his foolish son refused to step down from his position as a Kingsgaurd. His son had held such promise as a boy, but now he was little more than a disappointment as he would prefer life as a glorified bodyguard rather than take up the position his family needed him to.
For a time, he considered a marriage between the eldest Stark girl and Tyrion, if only so that the two could produce a child while he was still alive for long enough so he could groom a proper heir. But that idea was dismissed almost immediately as he doubted that anyone would ever willingly enter a betrothal with Tyrion. Not unless Tywin offered terms that were insulting to House Lannister. His nephews were an option as well, and he had plenty to choose from. Kevan had sired three sons in Lancel, Martyn and William while his late brother Tygett had managed to sire a single son: Tyrek. But that would require him to name one of them as his official heir, which was something he was hesitant to do as he still held out hope that Jamie would come to his senses.
But there was a problem with the eldest girl. While she was apparently the picture of a future Lady, word from their spies said that lacked in the one area he wanted. The eldest girl did not join her brothers and sister in their training under the sorcerer. Whether it was because she simply did not have the power or that she was giving into her mother's ridiculous teachings of the Seven, he didn't know. All he knew was that of the Stark children, she was either the weakest or completely powerless. While the eldest girl not being what he wanted was disappointing, there were still options. And this was where the second daughter came in to play. Word was that the second daughter had no problems regarding her sorcery. And while the eldest Stark girl might be shaping up into an ideal future Lady, the younger Stark girl was said to be Lyanna Stark reborn. An interesting prospect to be sure. But again, trying to arrange a marriage would require him to designate an heir. So as unfortunate as it was, he placed the Stark girls as a secondary option for now.
Which brought him to his ideal target, and why Joy's status as a bastard had been so important to his goals. Lord Stark's bastard son was the favored student of the sorcerer, so much so that the Sorcerer had recently named Jon Snow as his Apprentice. Which, according to his brother, was akin to a knight naming a squire who was sure to become a knight of the realm. Both Jon and Joy were close in age, enough so that no one would even think twice about the two becoming wed. And they were both bastards, which meant that they were malleable to where they would make their home. He'd been planning on offering terms to Lord Stark for a betrothal between the two, which would include petitioning the King for legitimization for the two of them, raising them to the ranks of noble Lord and Lady and granting them Castamere and the surrounding lands. The castle was still in ruins and flooded, but it would serve as a good test for the boy to see how he would turn the castle around. And to ensure that the power of the Sorcerer would enter the Lannister mainline, he would put in the contract that the first-born girl of their union would be betrothed to the heir of Casterly Rock. While this method was not expedient, it would ensure that within the next two-generations that the line of Sorcerers would be bred into House Lannister. And while it was more than likely that he would not be around to see his plan come to fruition, he would lay the groundwork for House Lannister to become the unquestioned power in Westeros.
But now that plan was now faltering on a knife's edge. Joy's legitimization made it so that it would no longer be a betrothal between two bastards, but rather between a legitimized daughter of House Lannister and a bastard. And while he did not care for the opinions of the sheep, the image of such a union reminded him far too much of what his father, the 'Toothless Lion', had done when he married his sister to that foolish Frey. But there was still time to salvage it. All that was needed was for the boy to be legitimized as well. Which, if he were being completely honest, he was surprised had not already happened. The boy was the Northern Sorcerer's Apprentice, had bloodied himself against bandits in the North, had ventured into Valyria and returned to tell the tale and he had bested an anointed knight in single combat quite easily. And not only that, but apparently the boy now wielded a sword which was like the Sorcerer's, if only a different color. With such a reputation at such a young age, the boy had more than earned his legitimization. And Stark was the King's brother in all but blood. So, the question remained: why did Robert hesitate? He didn't want to throw his word in to get the boy legitimized, as that could truly tip his hand to the realm, but he might have no choice soon. Especially with the tale his brother brought back about their brief stop at Sunspear in Dorne.
'The Martells,' Tywin frowned, sitting down and staring blankly off into the distance as he thought about just what his brother had told him regarding the events at Sunspear.
Apparently, Snow had been training in the yard with Oberyn Martell's squire when the two caught the eye of Princess Arianne Martell. The two then proceeded to have a friendly competition, which Snow ended up winning. However, word of what was going on got out and soon they had attracted quite the crowd. And after the two had finished, Ser Gerold Dayne had proceeded to slander the Martells and the Princess. Snow defended her honor and fought the man and beat him soundly. Earning him the attention of Princess such that she even danced with him that evening and spent the next several days in his company almost exclusively.
This situation was perhaps the most worrying to him. Arianne had but three years on the boy and was reputed to have grown into a beauty that men would do anything for just to have her grace them with a look. But most concerning was that she was still un-betrothed even though she was approaching her six-and-ten name day. And the ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne taking a bastard as their consort was not without precedence. Was this Doran's plan? Use his daughter to ensnare the Sorcerer's prized pupil and gain his power and the potential support of the North? The two kingdoms had already established a very profitable trade in the last few years. Was that how Doran came to learn of the boy's power? If the Martell's gained the power of the Sorcerer and made a full alliance with the North, then Tywin knew that House Lannister's position would be threatened. If such a situation were to come to pass, he would more than likely have to arrange a situation where Clegane would be unknowingly offered up as a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter to sate the Martell's quest for vengeance.
And that was not a situation he wanted to place himself in. He would make sure to cover his tracks well, but if it ever came to light that he sent his best enforcer to die just to please another House then the reputation of House Lannister would once again fall. And he could not, and would not, let that happen. Which meant that he would have to try and move quickly to secure the boy. He could send a letter directly to Stark offering the betrothal, but he doubted that he would receive a favorable response. Much as a squire was usually not marriageable until they achieved knighthood, he assumed the same was true for anyone that was apprenticed to the Sorcerer. Not to mention, Stark's foolish honor would not allow him to see past what happened during Robert's Rebellion and what he'd done to ensure Robert's future reign as King was secure. No, the best option would be for the boy to approach his father and request the betrothal. But that...that was difficult to achieve. He could send Joy north with the hopes that she could catch the boy's eye, but she was still but a girl and wasn't ready physically or mentally ready to seduce even a boy on the cusp of manhood. Which left him in quite the quandary.
"Milord. Lord Kevan, Lady Genna, Lord Tyrion and Lord Gerion are here to see you."
"Send them in," Tywin responded to the guard just outside, not bothering to rise from his seat nor to turn towards the door.
In short order, his siblings and his remaining child made their way into his solar before closing the door to ensure that they had privacy. "Well brother, here we are, one big happy family again." Gerion commented dryly as he flopped, not sat, flopped, down into one of the chairs available. "Is this where you tell me where I'm such a disappointment again? Only this time for not bringing back more than just our family's sword from Valyria? Or is this when you tell us all your grand scheme to sell my daughter like a two-stag broodmare?"
"Gerion, shut up." Genna countered, slapping their brother on the back of his head with a firm hand before taking the seat next to him, leaving Tyrion to hop up onto another as Kevan preferred to remain standing for now. "I would've thought your ill-thought-out venture to Valyria would've matured you."
"Oh, it did that dear sister and more," Gerion countered back, rubbing the back of his head. "It's why I've spent the entirety of the day with my daughter, trying to make up for the shit of a father I've been too her. And that is how I discovered the rather peculiar nature of her education. An education which emphasizes Northern Houses and traditions. An addition that was apparently ordered by you, dear brother. And given just how well we all know you; it was not difficult to connect the dots and figure out your plan. I can even guess that you were going to offer Castamere as an incentive. Tell me I'm wrong."
Tywin had to give his brother credit for figuring it out so quickly. Not that he would say it aloud. Anyone who bore the name 'Lannister' should've been able to figure out his endgame. "We all have a duty to our House, including Joy." Tywin responded, looking directly into his brother's eyes. "A duty that has become much more apparent with her legitimization. And as you already seem to know what I am planning, then tell me this. Can you name a better candidate for your daughter's hand? If so, then I would hear it now."
He knew the argument was over the moment his brother didn't immediately respond. "Gods damn you, Tywin. You haven't changed at all," Gerion growled. "She's only eight for god's sake."
"She will not be wedded until the appropriate time," Tywin countered back. "But setting up a betrothal is not outside the norm. And yes, I do intend to offer them Castamere as a test to see how the boy can handle himself."
"But a bastard marrying a legitimized Lannister," Tyrion chirped, a smile playing on his face. "Dear father, what will the—how did you put it? How will the 'sheep' react to such a development?"
"The boy will be legitimized soon enough," Tywin shot back. "It is a wonder the King hasn't already done so before this. But once word spreads of his actions, then he will gain his legitimization. And it will no longer be two bastards marrying, but rather a Stark marrying a Lannister."
"That is provided that Lord Stark even allows his son to be married to a Lannister," Tyrion pressed further, making Tywin want to grind his teeth. "We Lannisters are not thought of all that well in the North. And lest we forget, it was Lord Stark himself who was the first to speak of Jamie's new moniker. A moniker which has stayed with him to this day."
Tywin did not need to be reminded of that fact. "Joy will play on the boy, and through him we will get to Stark. But first, we must get Joy to Winterfell. The eldest girl, Sansa, is entering the age to obtain handmaidens. We shall send an offer to Stark for Joy to enter her service."
The plan was sound enough, but as soon as his intentions were announced he noticed something. A tightening around his brother's eyes. "You have another idea, Gerion?" Tywin asked, turning to his brother with a look that demanded he speak up.
"Damn it all, Tywin," Gerion growled. "Yes, there is another way we can send Joy to Winterfell. As an acolyte to the sorcerer."
That brought Tywin up short. "Explain."
Sighing, Gerion scratched at his hair. "I wanted to wait longer to see if I can confirm it, but there is a chance that Joy might have the same type of power that Nox has."
"Joy can use magic?" Tyrion asked, sitting up in his seat straighter. If there was one thing that could make Tyrion pay attention to something it was anything that dealt with the arcane. Or whores. "How do you know? She hasn't shown any such powers before."
"Because, according to Nox…I had the same power as well. Or at least the capability of learning how to use the same power as he." Gerion admitted, though he did not seem enthused by the prospect.
'He said he 'had the same power', not that he has. Meaning that this magic power can be lost.' "You have never shown anything like what we witnessed Nox wielding Gerion," Tywin stated with narrow eyes, wondering if his foolish brother had managed to pull the wool over his eyes for years. "How can you be sure that Lord Nox wasn't just humoring your dreams of glory and honor?"
"One, those dreams died the moment I was shipwrecked in Valyria," Gerion shot back immediately, meeting Tywin's hard glare with one of his own. "And two, Nox isn't one to lie, at least not about this. And before you jump down my throat, like usual, I spent a lot of time learning as much as I could from the sorcerer about his power. Hells, I'm willing to bet that I've learned more about the sorcerer and his power in the little more than a month I've spent with him than you have in the years you've spent trying to dig up any scrap of information you can. Now, do you want me to tell you what I learned? Or are you just going to continue to berate me for hours on end?"
Leaning back, Tywin motioned for Gerion to continue. As galling as it was to admit, his brother had a point. He'd spent years and thousands of gold dragons trying to uncover as much information as he could about the sorcerer. And in the end, he had barely enough to fill a single sheet of paper for all his trouble. Gerion however had spent over a month on a single ship with the man. His insight could prove invaluable.
"For starters, Nox does not call his magic, well, magic. He instead calls it the 'Force'. Think of it like a giant lake and those who can use it being the rivers that are fed from said lake. One cannot simply learn how to use the Force; you are either born with the ability to wield the Force or you are not. And just as all men cannot be as strong as your monster Clegane, not everyone who can wield the Force can do so in equal measure. The measure of an individual's strength is something Nox calls 'Force Sensitivity'. The greater and individuals Force sensitivity the stronger they can become. And it seems to be that those that are trained can tell if an individual has any Force sensitivity just from looking at them, though how I have no idea. And just to let you know, Nox took careful note of both you and Kevan back during the Greyjoy Rebellion and, these are his words, you two have the Force sensitivity of a stone."
Tywin did not appreciate the thought. The fact that House Stark could be considered superior to House Lannister in anything was an insult of the highest order. Which was why he was so focused on introducing this power into the Lannister line.
"Yet, you apparently do have this power, Uncle," Tyrion noted, scratching at his chin. "How?"
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