Chapter 6

The Westerlands, Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister stood in his solar staring out to Lannisport and the surrounding town deep in thought. He was tall and slender, with greying blonde hair and green golden-flecked eyes. He wore his signature black leather clothes, commanding a very powerful presence intimidating those around him.

Tywin Lannister was confused.

He was the Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West. He was the most powerful person in the Seven Kingdoms, ruling them in all but name in his time as Hand of the King. Oh he knew he was ruthless and a bit controlling, but he was also calculating, intelligent, politically astute and cold. He wasn't always like that. In fact, he was used to smiling and twitching his lips upwards from time to time when he was with his lovely Joanna. But that all ended with the birth of the foul loathsome imp that took her… a story for another day perhaps. He had watched his mighty house nearly brought to ruin through his father's actions.

"Tytos Lannister" He sneered just from the thought. His father while a gentle and amiable man was also weak willed and eager to please, loans went unpaid and his bannermen did what they pleased mocking him in their cups or openly defying him. People thought all he did were out of cruelty, they were wrong. He was determined to become a different man than his father and restore his house into greatness. The destruction of House Reyne and Tarbeck was only means to re-establishing his House's fearsome reputation.

They were the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms, and the Westerlands Mountains were filled to the brim with gold. Their wealth only contested by that of the Tyrells. But therein lays the problem. 8000 bloody years of mining gold was enough to make a mountain made solely of gold go empty. While the mines in Casterly Rock weren't empty yet, they were certainly getting there. Fearsome reputation or not he couldn't just seize mines of his bannermen and tell them to go fuck themselves. They would all rebel and end his legacy. It wasn't really an unsolvable problem, mines had to be built and gold areas had to be searched for on the rock but that took money and time. Time he didn't have. He wasn't as young as he was, he could feel his wounds aching at the night though never showing his discomfort in front of his enemies lest they get any ideas. He knew his time was soon, but he couldn't… nay wouldn't leave his house on a shaky rock. He had to leave a base that would ensure that House Lannister remains on top even if another Tytos emerges from his descendants.

So when suddenly gold starts flowing down from the North, rumors of mountains in the north filled with gold to the brim, miners starting to travel to the north for better lives and good conditions he had every damn right to be worried.

He always wondered why the north never once produced gold or iron ores; their mountains were almost the size of the Westerlands! 8000 years, not a single ore. He had assumed that they must be empty, lumbs of rock. So when that upstart Stark starts opening mines as much as the ones in the West almost flooding the North with gold, silver and diamonds. Dividing the mountains and mines and gifting them to his bannerman? Madness! He could've just taken them all and no one would complain, they were out of all their territories. Not only dividing them, but also assisting them in building the mines, providing equipment for a measly percentage of the mines production. That was absurd. Nobody in the westerlands would ever contemplate doing something like that. And SUDDENLY, the poor Houses of the North had coffers filled with gold. He even heard they were self-sufficient in their production and had vast farmlands and even produced excess food in WINTER when formerly, the North would thank their old gods for having enough food through summer. But that didn't matter; the Tyrells and their pretty flowers could worry about that.

Oh he heard of the new Stark Lord. A once in a millennia genius they said. But even a genius couldn't shift the powers of the Great Houses and Kingdoms so much in just under a decade.

Nothing to do unfortunately, no army could even dare think about going to the North. The northern savages would all crush them before they passed through the Neck, and with the Twins destroyed in that freak chain of earthquakes that happened in the North it was even more unlikely for them to reach the North. What was he going to do? Have them swim to the north.

He shook his head briefly dismissing those thought, perhaps he should send Tyrion to the Citadel if that's the kind of intelligence they produce. Bah, he would complain of the lack of whores in the Citadel and embarrass himself and the Lannisters by extension. No, he would stay at the Rock where he could keep an eye on him and limit his perversions and whoring as much as he could.

He stared at the sealed golden wax on the letter that just arrived by raven from Kingslanding. "No doubt Robert wants another loan for drinks and whores," he thought disdainfully. All he could do now was increase his influence in court and hope that his grandson knew that he was a Lannister first and a Baratheon second when he ascended to the throne. All he could was waiting.

The Reach, Highgarden, Mace Tyrell.

The Reach was the most fertile and populous region of Westeros, allowing House Tyrell to gain immense wealth (through taxation of the large population) and also to muster an enormous army of 100,000 men. The Tyrells can typically raise and equip almost twice as many soldiers as any of the other Great Houses in Westeros.

Mace Tyrell was a simple man. He had three strong boys, Willas, Loras and Garlan, all as handsome as he is and his little queen Margaery, she had that grace and lithe of all the Tyrells. His wife Alerie was a beautiful young woman from house Hightower. "He knew some people thought his mother was the ruler of the Reach, but oh how wrong they were." He thought puffing up, "He was the true power in the Reach, the Lord of Highgarden ruling from atop with a steel grip, the only undefeated man in the Rebellion."

"And what do you intend to do about this Mace?" said his mother, interrupting his musing.

"About what exactly mother?" He said.

"About what, he says. Of course you have no idea you oaf. All the Northern houses have stopped paying us for food and the North has always bought a lot of food from us, almost as much as Dorne and the Stormlands combined."

"So? Winter has passed; perhaps they have enough food this year."

"Oh by the seven, married to an oaf who managed to fall off a cliff while riding and gave birth to another." She swatted him over the head surprisingly strong, "The north never has enough food you stupid lump."

Mace hummed noncommittally waiting for her to get over with it.

"You still have no idea where I'm getting to, are you?" She said tiredly, "Don't answer that. It means, they either have another cheaper better supplier, or they are making enough food. Both are worrying thoughts."

"The Northern lands are brittle mother and who are they going to get food from? The Riverlands don't produce enough food to solely provide the North and getting food from the Free Cities would cost much more than getting it from us." Mace remarked, greatly impressed with himself for such an intelligent comeback. "The Reach has the most fertile lands and they will come back to us, beggar cups in hand, sooner or later."

"We will have to see but mark my words Mace, the North is on the rise."

"They are the weakest Kingdom of the seven, mother." He said, getting up.

"Sit down you oaf. Haven't you heard of the boy lord Stark? He was at Oldtown a few years ago and world from the Citadel is he is a prodigy, forged all his chains in a record time and went back to the dreary cold North with the respect and admiration of the Archmaesters. Rumors of another Citadel being built in the North have reached my ears."

"Rumors are just that mother, rumors." He said frowning.

"He was five name-days you dunderhead and those were no rumors!" She said throwing a spoon at his temple and sniffing, "Five name-days and forging chains at the Citadel while all your sons know is how to swing swords and could barely count the petals on a flower."

"Yes, Loras is showing a natural talent with a sword isn't he? Almost as good as I was when I was younger," He said chuckling, "Almost, but not as good."

Olenna stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking her head and getting up, muttering words that sounded suspiciously like oaf, fat lump and other various obscenities that no lady at her age should say.

He watched his little Margaery playing the gardens infront of the balcony. "She would soon grow up to be as beautiful as the Queen of Westeros" He thought, "Perhaps we should arrange a marriage between Margaery and the Crown Prince Joffrey in the future. Could you imagine that grand picture? The next generation of Tyrell's on the Iron Throne? House Tyrell's power in the Seven Kingdoms would grow in leaps and bounds and his mother could cease all her whining of the North"

Dorne, Sunspear, Doran Martell.

Dorne is the hottest region of Westeros. The region is rocky, mountainous, arid and dry, and features the only desert on the continent. Dorne is bordered by the Sea of Dorne to the north, the islands known as the Stepstones to the east, and the Summer Sea to the south. Stretched between them is the mountain range known as the Red Mountains, which separates Dorne from the stormlands to the north and the Reach to the northwest and west.

The Dornishmen lived a hard life, almost as hard like those at the North. While Dorne's rivers provide some fertile lands and even during a long summer there is enough rain and other supplies of water to keep Dorne habitable. Inland water is almost as valuable as gold, and wells are jealously guarded.

Although the least populated region in Westeros as well as the most hot-blooded, it has been avoided just like the North from invasions and wars. When the Andals came to Westeros with their Faith they mostly avoided Dorne, only making adventures toward it. The only notable thing that happened in the past thousand years was the Rhoynish migration. The Rhoynish Wars forced the people of the Rhoynarto flee their homeland along the Rhoyne in Essos. Led by their legendary warrior-queen, Nymeria, they left in a fleet of ten thousand ships, eventually making landfall at the mouth of the Greenblood in Dorne. Nymeria allied with Lord Mors Martell of the Sandship, and with his support conquered the entire peninsula in Nymeria's War, uniting it with House Nymeros Martell of Sunspear as its ruler.

Even Aegon the Conquerer with his Dragons couldn't conquer Dorne as he did with the other realms. One of Aegon's sisters, Rhaenys Targaryen, flew on her dragon, Meraxes, above the Dornishmen guarding the Prince's Pass, but each Dornish castle she visited was abandoned. When she came to Sunspear, she was met by Princess Meria Martell, who warned that the Targaryens would face peril if they attacked Dorne.

In 4 AC, however, Aegon I announced another campaign, which became the First Dornish War. Whereas other kings and lords had taken to the field against Aegon, or clustered in castles, the Dornish refused to give open battle and allow Aegon to deploy his dragons. Instead, they turned to ambush and raids, striking quickly and then slipping back into the desert or through the mountain passes, where even the dragons could not find them.

Aegon's younger sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys, participated in this war, which eventually lead to her death. Meraxes was also killed, being hit in the eye by a scorpion at the Hellholt. In time, Aegon pulled away from Dorne.

Although eventually partially subdued and joined to the Seven Kingdoms by peace not war, 150 years after the Targaryean Conquest.

The great people of Dorne had a great and proud history, and the ruling House Martell was now led by Doran Martell.

Some people, his brother Oberyn for example, thought he should rise in rebellion once again in answer for the injustice and murder of his sister Elia and her children. It was a good thing then that Dorne was not ruled by these people.

Dorne has gained from peace a lot and although they could definitely rise and announce sovereignty, they had a lot to lose. The union of the Seven Kingdoms wasn't done in fear of dragons nor for benefits, the Dornish have lived in these deserts for thousands of years and they were unconquerable in their deserts and mountains. But should they split from the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne would fall. The Reach would stop selling food to them and they had no other way to get it. Their trading was pitiful and the only thing they had in their harbor was ships from the Free Cities which also diminished in number after the earthquake in the North and the Canal they built linking the Narrow Sea to the Sunset Sea and cutting down time travel for Braavos and Pentos almost by half. In the past, they had to travel all around Westeros and stop in Dorne for supplies. Now all they had to was just cut right through Westeros.

While Dorne was the farthest from the North, they had also heard the rumors about the rise of their northern brethren. Doran hated a lot of people, Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch and Robert Baratheon for the murder of his sister and her children and the subsequent injustice against her murderers.

People might have thought that he hated Eddard Stark as well, but he couldn't in good faith hate him. He was an honorable good man from what he heard. The only man that protested his sister's death and injustice from what he has heard. If his sister Elia was kidnapped he would've travelled the entire World to take her back so he didn't blame him. While didn't hate the Starks and the North, he didn't love them either. And Ned Stark was of no consequence anyway, the new lord Stark was.

Brandon Stark.

He was named after his father or his famous ancestor Bran the Builder, born in Dorne from a secret marriage between his father and Ashara Dayne. His sudden emergence was slightly suspicious and many thought that Ned Stark would claim him a bastard as to take Winterfell for himself. But once again Ned Stark proves his owner in removing his titles almost immediately and taking the boy back to his home as the new Lord of Winterfell.

Gone to the Citadel at the age of 5 and forged every chain there within the year, a genius. Bran the Builder reborn they called him. The Rise of the North and their houses was swift and sudden with his inventions that seemingly popped out every day. But if rumors of his intelligence were true it wasn't surprising.

Northeners rarely married Dornish for the simple reason that it was too far away. The North was on one side and Dorne was at the other side of westeros. But here we have a great lord born from the two corners of the continent and revered as great as the Winter Kings of old.

The whispers from the North said that every commoner there had a better life than anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Their health and welfare was almost as good as nobles and each House in the North had a hospice that treated commoners for free. Medical advances and inventions were bred every day in the North. The north this, the north that. It seems that every lord in the seven kingdoms was interested in a marriage with this young Lord. All of them were rebuffed. It wasn't that surprising actually. After the disaster that was Lyanna Stark's arranged marriage and Ned Stark being forced to marry a Riverrlander that wasn't particularly loved in the north, coupled with Northeners generally shying away from marrying down south, it was unlikely that he would accept any.

But perhaps he could see whose side that lord was. An alliance with Dorne would be beneficial and even though the boy was from the North he still had hot dornish blood flowing through his veins. It would have to be approached carefully. Perhaps sending an invitation to Dorne from his mother's house and asking for him to visit Sunspear for improving relationships between the two kingdoms.

He would first have to ask Oberyn for anything he heard from his old friends and the Citadel and if it's acceptable, arrange a marriage between Arianne and him. He could wait; he has been waiting for 9 years for his sister's justice and would wait a hundred more if he had to. Patience was always rewarded.

King's landing, The Red Keep, Robert Baratheon's POV.

"Holy shit, that whiskey is strong," thought Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm and professional drunk and whoremonger as he took another gulp from the bottle.

It was a good thing those bloody dragons were dead. He still had dreams of killing Rhaegar and the pleasure from caving in his breastplate. But the thought that was running through his head was different from regular. As soon as the blasted dragons left the north changed remarkably, pouring gold from the taxes as much as two kingdoms from trade, mining and farming. We could send beggars and commoners who did nothing but increase the smell of shit in King's landing north and they would have jobs instead of sitting here on their asses.

He was glad for his friend Ned, living the peaceful life he wanted and handing the North to his nephew who perfected the art of brewing, making drinks from all colors and varying levels of drunkenness. The boy forged his chains at the citadel at 5 the Grandmaester said and yet, that old fool could do nothing of the wonders that young boy made. Jon was particularly interested in that new lord and was considering inviting him to court and perhaps offer him a position on the small council in the future.

No more wines of different kinds for when he wanted to lose himself. Now he could have a different drink for every different occasion without having to drink flagons of wine to get tipsy.

Perhaps he should visit the north soon, he thought as he looked down at his body in disgust. He has grown fat and lazy from sitting around all day doing nothing. Ruling the Seven Kingdoms was Jon's thing really. He still had no idea why he had gone along with being the King of the Seven Kingdoms in the first place. Yes it was another victory over the damned Targaryens but it wasn't for him. Jon cajoled him into the position quickly before he could utter a word as the best suited one. He needed a war to get him moving but for now, he was going to enjoy his drinks

The only downside of the whole thing that he had to specify what he wanted to drink these days to dumb Lancel Lannister. No more could he just shout bring me something to drink. Now he had to specify which. He supposed even a king couldn't have it all.

King's Landing, The Hand Tower, Jon Arryn.

The north has been one of the recurring themes mentioned in the past small council meetings for the past 5 years. The north has remained in a state of stagnation for almost 300 years. While the prospect of building that much harbors, mines and buildings was worrying it wasn't surprising. Brandon Stark was a smart young lord and with the newfound wealth in the mountains, he was adamant that the North rises like never before. Bran the builder they called him.

Never before has a boy under 14 name days allowed entry to study at the Citadel, yet the Grandmaester spoke almost reverently and excitedly about his meeting with lord Stark. In which he described as a charming young man with wisdom and intelligence that men 10 times his age didn't have. His farming methods and the influx of castle forged steel in the North was having a huge effect as well. He could very well be able to arm and field an army of 150,000 with that much steel and food.

Ned he could trust, he raised the boy himself and was sure the boy wasn't going to turn his eyes south. But that new lord was ambitious, and why shouldn't he? He has done in the past 5 years more than any lord of the north did in a thousand years. He just hoped that he was like Ned and it was doubtful that he would rebel or attack any southern kingdom in the near future. The north had now everything it needs; a friendship with the crown through Ned and farms feeding every mouth in the North mines filling their coffers with gold and harbors pouring trade from all around the world.

The new large fleet was worrying but from what he heard, most of them were trading ships anyway and only 150 –half the size of the royal fleet- was military., mostly used to maintain the seas and fend off pirates which has benefited the Vale greatly as they cover and protect Gulltown harbor and the bite as well which were infected with pirates.

For now, he would continue observing the North and perhaps arrange to foster the boy in King's landing or invite him to court for a while to get a read on him. Maybe even send the boy to deal with the mountain clans of the Vale like he did with their mountain clans. How he subdued the mountain clans in one meeting I would never know.

Still, he had his trust that Ned would keep any unsavory or overly ambitious plans of the boy at bay at least for the next few years, by then the boy would hopefully look at him as a grandfather-figure and trusts him. He would write a letter to Ned again to keep him informed and ask Varys to keep his eyes on any developments in the North.

"The king orders a tourney," said Lord Baelish, Lysa's childhood friend and a bannerman of his.

"The last one was on Prince Joffrey's nameday." Jon said tiredly.

"The King's orders my lord hand." Baelish said with a mocking smile.

He wished he could focus on the North but he first had to keep Robert's urges at bay. Although the taxes from the north had increased, Robert almost spent the entirety of it buying barrels of the new drinks. He would have a talk with him and write that letter later. For now he would have to arrange the tourn… 50,000 golden dragons for the winner of the joust? Some lords didn't have as much as that. Seven hells Robert, are you trying to ruin the Kingdoms on purpose?

Jon sighed tiredly, they used to say the King orders and the Hand builds in the past. Now it became the King shits and the hand wipes. I did a terrible job raising that boy.

Riverrun, the Riverlands, Hoster Tully's POV.

People who knew The Lord of Riverrun would have been gaping at the sight of Hoster Tully at the moment except his brother, Brynden would have laughed mockingly. He looked haggard and gaunt, his hair messy and generally looked worse to wear.

The past few years were a disaster for the Riverlands, raids from the Ironborn which have increased the past few weeks, the destruction of the Freys one of his most powerful –although despicable- vassals, even money that came from the North for food stopped coming. Even his poor Edmure managed to fall into a river and drowned after being harassed by the fish, they say he was drunk and tried to kiss the reflection of the moon. Oh the horror.

The Mallisters were starting to collect supporters to become the new Lord Paramount of the Riverrlands after my death. But I wasn't going to let the Riverrlands fall in shambles and out of our House's hand. I still had an heir who could hopefully grow up nicely. Cat's second son, Bran was his name. Not that infernal Brandon, Warden of the North. No a Bran from his blood, perhaps that name was a lucky name and the boy would help pull the Riverrlands from its decay, Ignoring of course, Brandon Stark's death at King's Landing.

Yes, yes he would send a letter to Catelyn and order her to send her son for fostering here immediately. He wouldn't have an heir who hasn't lived a day in the Riverrlands and his bannerman would definetly not accept him as well. He would groom him to an acceptable Lord of Riverrun who could take over one day, not at all like Brynden.

What the Lord of Riverrun didn't know was that there was a certain retired dark lord who had a grudge against Hoster and wasn't going to leave his southern border in the hands of a fish.

Beyond the Wall.

Meeting between Brandon Stark and the Three-eyed Raven.

"He's waiting for you," intoned a creature from behind a root of the weirwood tree.

I took a closer look and gasped in astonishment, "You're house elf!"

"What?" The house elf said confusedly.

I ignored it and continued, "You have no idea how much I missed your species and come to greatly appreciate them since I came into this wretched place" I said as it puffed up in pride," My servants are absolutely horrible and slow, so slow. If I knew that the weirwood tree that kept popping up in my dreams would give me reliable servants I would've come here immediately..."

"We're not servants." It shrieked irritably cutting of my moaning.

I blinked confusedly," You're not wood elves then?"

"The First Men called us 'the Children', but we were born long before them. Your kind arrived in our home, cutting down our forests and fighting us in wars unt.."

I cut the child off, it looked as if it was capable of droning on and on about history just like Binns did back at Hogwarts and said, "I don't particularly care. If you haven't been sending me dreams of house elves then what did you want?"

A voice came from the inside, "They weren't the ones sending you these dreams, I was."

I entered inside the tree to find a pale, skeletal man in rotted black clothing in a weirwood throne of tangled roots. His skin is white, aside from a red blotch on his neck and cheek. He has fine, white hair long enough to reach the earthen floor. He is missing one eye, while the other is red. Weirwood roots surround the man and grow through his body, including his leg and his empty eye socket. That must be uncomfortable.

"I have been expecting you Lord Stark, or is it Tom Riddle or Harry Potter?"

I made my fingers spark with fire and lightning theatrically, changed me eyes red and growled, "Start speaking or I'll burn this tree to the ground, old man."

The man's…tree's? Eyes widened, he had seen what that man had done in his life and he hasn't felt pain in almost 50 years, okay straight forward it is.

"Apologies, My name is Brynden Rivers, Former Hand of the King, Lord Blood Raven and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the Last Greenseer." He said hastily, losing the theatrical deep voice and speaking normally.

"And the reason for sending my ridiculous dreams of where you live is…?"

"You've changed the game." He replied plainly and accusingly.

"Pardon me?" I asked confusedly

"You've changed everything! People who should die will live although some cannot be saved. The future is unclear and I can't bloody watch you." He finished in an irritated voice.

Back on Earth, I always applied an anti-scrying charm on myself to prevent anyone from finding me. The habit seemed to carry on here and well, here you go.

"And that concerns me… how exactly?"

"Well, the least you could do was help."

"Help you with what?"

"The white walkers would bring back the Long Night and with it destruction for your kind," another of the children said.

"They are real… hmm well can you tell me about them?" I asked intrigued. I had, of course, been concerned by the existence of necromancy ice elemental zombies right next to me but I haven't been able to find them or any proof that they were real.

The children look to each other and nodded and a brave one stepped forward and explained, "They appeared before the age of heroes, causing the longest winter in history which lasted a whole generation descending upon Westeros from the Far North, killing all in their path and reanimating the dead as wights to fight in their armies. Eventually, your kind rallied against them and, in a conflict known as the War for the Dawn, defeated the White Walkers and drove them back into the frozen North. They are taller than humans and have long wispy white hair and also commonly a white beard with haunting blue eyes with superstrength and an inhuman beauty. They have pale grey-white skin which is wrinkly but stretched taut across their frames, giving them a somewhat gaunt, sinewy, and mummified appearance despite their overall bulky size. They bring blizzards and death wherever they go having magical powers to control the ice and cold."

"That's all grand and all but magical creatures don't simply pop out in overnight." I interrupted his boring description, "How did they come into existence?"

"We created them," It said, not meeting my gaze.

"And what do you need?" I asked seeing where this was going and enjoying it greatly.

"You're more knowledgeable in magic than any of us, you're the only one who could help to their annihilation" The three-eyed raven said strongly.

I began pacing around the inside of the tree while thinking furiously. What they described was the same as creating inferi mostly, except the part where they could use magic. That was worrying. I could only re-animate dead bodies into moving or attacking my enemies, making them use magic however would require me to share. my. own.

I looked at them with amusement and said, "For a creation of magic to die, the creator must cease to exist."

They looked outraged and almost lashed out in anger before Bloodraven asked, "Please elaborate Lord Stark."

"Of course," I said, changing into my professor tone that I used back at Hogwarts, "In normal states of necromantic constructs, the will of the creator is enough to control the construct and its destruction is easy as well. A sentient being that could use magic however cannot be achieved without opening a gateway between the creator and the construct. Therefore, I would highly recommend that it shouldn't be used since their destruction in case of them rebelling against the wizard would prove fatal to both sides."

"So we would have to die regardless," said one of the children sadly.

I nodded my head as I continued, "Your deaths alone won't be enough. A ritual must be done so that the connection could be broken which would cause both sides to fall down and die from the magic."

"Very well then, it was our fault in the first place and we will fix it."

I prepared the ritual in no time carving runes and painting others with my blood in a circle inside the cave. In 10 minutes of chanting it was done. Although I had an important enemy who could have possibly been a nuisance in the future destroyed. They were still both magical species, and I was always concerned of the survival and magic and magical creatures.

As I started walking out of the cave so I can apparate back to Winterfell, Brynden screamed in a panicked tone, "What about me?"

I turned around and smiled apologetically as he deflated in comfort and said, "I apologize, I forgot." I raised my wand pointing it at him, "Avada Kedav.."

"NO!" He interrupted in a shrilly tone.

I frowned lowering my wand, "What do you want then?"

"Free me and heal me of course." He said in an indignant tone.

"Why would I do that?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest and looking on amusedly.

"What?" he asked confused.

"What would I possibly earn from doing that?"

"I helped you destroy you the White Walkers." He said sweating.

"No, I destroyed the White Walkers. Even without your dreams a bit of fiendfyre would've probably taken care of most of them. Since you can't find something beneficial to me…" I said while turning around to leave.

"Wait-WAIT, I could help you. I'm a greenseer, a thousand eyes and one. I could help you see all over Westeros with my warging."

"I could do better with my wards," I said yawning and covering my mouth.

"I could teach anyone you want with the talent, to warg and greenseer like me. Can you imagine that? It could be your Hogwarts in Westeros." He said while smiling hopefully.

"I'm not going to teach uncontrollable people magic and I'd definitely not hire you in my school if I made one." I replied not impressed, almost reaching the cave entrance.

"I could make a mean treacle tart." He said panicked, stopping in my tracks.

"Treacle tarts?" I asked without turning around, I had an obsession with treacle tarts as Harry Potter, and none of the thrice damned cooks could do it right. I was almost going to give a lordship to the cook that would make me good treacle tarts.

"Yes, yes delicious treacle tarts with cream, custard and lemon juice," He said triumphantly as my mouth watered and vision filled with images of treacle tart.

"You're hired," I said immediately.

I turned around and began unraveling the roots of the trees from around his body and releasing him, proceeded to heal his body from the damage caused by the roots and gave him various fast acting nutrient potions for malnourishment.

"I can probably re-grow that eye back at Winterfell," I said as he stood inspecting his body for the first time in years and walking around like a child.

"Wha… Yes, yes of course. Thank you my lord, I am forever in your debt."

"Just make me good treacle tarts and teach the damned cooks as well and you can consider your debt paid."

I didn't come back from my adventure with a house elf but at least I got a cook.