Chapter 1- The Old Man

265 AC- 17 years before Roberts Rebellion

William Harclay was sitting at his desk in his solar trying to go over the harvest records for this month. A fire crackled in the hearth warding off the morning chill that is all too common in the north. William's solar was filled with hunting trophies, and broken weapons used by the past Lords of House Harclay in ages past. The banner of House Harclay hung just above the hearth, with the three phases of the moon waxing, full, and waning on a white diagonal band on a field of blue. A small bookshelf set next to the window that overlooked the yard of Mooncrest Keep. The bookshelf contained the records of House Harclay records of past taxes and harvests collected since the day William became the Lord of House Harclay ages ago. 

With a heavy sigh he looked away from the ledger on his desk and the pitiful numbers it contained. William hated the tedious job of managing his lands, if his people weren't starving or freezing. They were battling hill bandits, raiders from the other mountain clans, or the piss ant wildlings. He was The Harclay of the Harclay mountain clan. His people have been in the Southern hills of the Northern Mountain Range for ages. They have been in these hills since the age of heroes 8,000 some years ago. They are a proud but poor people striving every year to farm as much land as possible in the rocky soil that their ancestors settled eons ago. Even in the years of summer their farms couldn't produce enough food to feed half of the smallfolk in his lands. His people had to live of the land hunting and gathering as much as possible to fill their larders for the long and brutal winters of Westeros. 

 He turned his head to glance out the window of his solar that allowed him to see into the training yard of the Mooncrest Keep. He could see House Harclay's champion Uther throwing an unfortunate green boy to the muddy ground of the training yard. Uther roared to the on looking warriors in the yard who answered him back by clanging their practice weapons onto their shields. Uther was the newest champion of House Harclay he was called the Man Bear by many of the warriors of the clan. Probably because the scarred balled headed man was nearly seven feet tall and built like the hairy beasts of his namesake. 

William continued to watch, wishing he was down there but he knew he had work to do. Plus, he was no spring chicken age was catching up to him his once tall and broad shoulders are now slumped with age. William's long hair that used to shine in the daylight is now streaked in grey and white strands. He was shaken out of his musing as Uther pointed with practice axe at his next victim, it was a small man with brown hair and had a confident gate to his walk as he made his way to the square. The young brown-haired warrior couldn't have been any older than twenty names' days. But William couldn't tell if the confidence of the brown-haired warrior was arrogance or if he had the skill to match his cocky smile on his face. 

William could tell that his champion Uther was annoyed by the confidence of the much smaller man when he stepped in the training square. William watched the smooth gait of the brown-haired warrior, trying to get a read on the young man. William was also watching his champion see what he was going to do, because Uther was not known for his patience. The young warrior was taking his time getting ready, he was twirling his spear in a mesmerizing manner. He then checked the straps on his shield and with a nod of satisfaction, the brown-haired warrior slammed the butt of his spear into the mud of the training yard.

That had been the signal to start because Uther came rushing at the young warrior, probably hoping to end this match quickly. The young man was a lot quicker than Uther and he twirled out of the way of the bull rushing champion. As Uther rushed by him the young man twirled his spear and hit Uther on the back of his knee. Uther stumbled but turned quickly to face his opponent; the brown-haired warrior still had the smirk on his face. The warrior began walking circling the champion still twirling his spear. His shield was slung on his back so that he had better control of his spear. Uther must have calmed down enough because now he was just standing in the middle of the yard, turning with the circling young warrior keeping his guard up. 

With speed that that didn't match with a man his size Uther lunged at the brown-haired warrior striking overhead with his large great axe. Uther's strike was skirted around by the young man who taking advantage of the larger man loosing of his guard with his heavy swing. With the ever-present smirk on his face, the young warrior thrust his spear into the right shoulder of Uther. When the spear landed Uther almost dropped his axe. Luckily Uther had his padded gambeson and his mail hauberk. Even from his solar William could hear Uther grunt in annoyance and rolled his shoulder as he and the brown-haired warrior circled each other. This time it was the young warrior that stuck first, closing in on the champion and striking from a distance with his spear. Keeping the champion on the defensive, Uther was forced give ground batting away the spear with his axe or moving out of the way. But that was proving more and more difficult as the spar raged on. 

The young warrior must have grown overconfident because he fell for a well-placed trap by Uther. The brown-haired warrior lunged aiming high again with his spear, expecting Uther to give ground but the champion had other plans in mind. Allowing the spear to graze his head Uther's left hand flashed up to catch the spear before it could be withdrawn, and with a feral smile of his own on his face Uther pulled hard on the spear throwing the young warrior on the other end off balance. The young warrior, feeling himself off balanced let go of the spear and slung his shield off his back and unsheathed his short sword on his waist. While that was happening, Uther threw the spear out of the training yard square. 

The watching warriors in the training yard yelled bashing their weapons on their shields in approval. Uther loving the attention from the crowd waved his great axe overhead egging them on. The brown-haired warrior now without his spear and its reach advantage had lost his smirk, but still the young man had a confident look in his eye as he adjusted the straps on his shield. The young warrior's eye had nothing else but victory in them absolute confidence in his own abilities. With a light flick of his wrist bringing up his sword and shield in a typical guard position. He advanced on the champion who finally finished basking in the love of the onlookers. Uther with a wide smile on his scarred face watched the young man coming towards him in amusement. 

With a yell Uther rushed towards the brown-haired warrior with purpose swinging his great axe. Instead of meeting the charging champion head-on the young warrior was swaying out of the way of the axe or deflecting it away with way with his shield. Uther was pressing his advantage swinging his axe faster and faster to keep the young warrior on the defensive. William could tell what the young warrior was planning, he was hoping to tire out the champion and it seemed to be working as with each swing of his great axe Uther's strikes were growing weaker and sloppier. As he chased the small warrior across the training yard, the muddy ground was not helping the champion in his endeavor. The brown-haired man was dancing across the yard leading the champion in a merry chase, he was ducking and weaving out of the way of Uther's axe. Uther was huffing and puffing, he was exhaling great clouds of breath that were visible in the cold morning air even from William's solar. 

Uther last swing of his great axe was his undoing the brown-haired warrior let the axe bite deep into the wood of his shield. With his axe stuck and as exhausted as Uther the young warrior took advantage and let the straps of his shield fall loose and dropped his shield. He blitzed towards the champion now armed only with his short sword. Uther with the add weight of the shield on the end of his axe nearly dropped it, if he had let it go, he might have been fine. But Uther was a stubborn man, and the young warrior was on top him before he could get is guard up. The brown-haired warrior slammed the pommel of his sword into the nose of the champion, and then kicked the back of Uther's knee toppling the big man into the muck of the yard. 

A hush fell over the training yard and William's bushy eyebrows raised in shock, and a smile grew upon his face. The young warrior was holding his sword at the champion's throat, with a smirk back upon his stoney face. Uther was staring up at the brown-haired warrior's face, probably trying to wrack his brain about what just happened. The silence of the yard was broken as the watching warriors roared with enthusiasm. William was afraid that Mooncrest Keep would come crashing down with the excitement of the men in the yard. The brown-haired warrior still had his sword to Uther's throat, he only glanced at the roaring men. His gaze quickly flicked back to the downed champion, and he raised a single eyebrow at the man at the end of his sword. He spoke to the fallen champion on the ground, but William couldn't hear his words over the commotion of the crowd. 

Uther must have yielded because with a flick of his wrist the young warrior sheathed his sword and calmly walked over to pick up his spear that Uther threw out of the training square. Uther, with no sword at his neck, rolled forward and picked himself up off the ground. With a huff and covered in mud the champion stomped over to where his great axe was on the ground. With a foot placed on the shield that his axe was embedded, and with a grunt of effort Uther ripped the axe from the wood of the shield. Uther glanced back at the brown-haired warrior as he was walking towards him to retrieve his shield. If William eyes weren't betraying him, he saw pure rage in the scarred face of his champion. But Uther did nothing, the brute just stormed out of the training yard pushing anyone in the crowd of onlookers out of his way. 

The young warrior shook his head and picked up his shield out of the muck, he slung his shield upon his back had walked over to the crowd of warriors. He stopped briefly Infront of a skinny man wearing a loose-fitting gambeson and a heavy wool cloak. The brown-haired warrior stuck his hand out waiting for something, the man in a heavy wool cloak looked irritated. With visible disdain on his face, he reached to his waist and plopped his whole coin purse into the hand of the young warrior. William barked a quick chuckle as the brown-haired warrior went around the whole training yard collecting his winnings. 

William made a mental note to figure out who the young warrior is a man with that kind of skill was rare especially one so young. William ran his fingers through his greying beard. By the Old gods he was getting old there was a time when his bones didn't creek so much even when he was sitting still at his desk. With a tiny stretch to relieve some of the pain he was feeling in his lower back. He was just about to turn back to the nauseating ledgers on his desk. But he was saved from turning back to his work, when he heard a hurried series of knocks on the door to his solar. 

Before he could give an answer, the door was pushed open, and his steward Declan popped his head into the doorway. "My lord sorry to intrude, but you are needed urgently, your wife has gone into labor." Declan said the last bit in a frantic manner, and with it all thoughts of work left William's mind. Nearly tripping over his own feet while trying to stand up in a hurry, William rushed out of his solar with Declan hot on his heels. William walked briskly down the ancient hallway of the Moon Crest Keep. His mind was occupied with thoughts on his wife's health, and prying to the old gods that he would finally be blessed with a child. The years have not been kind to his wife and him year after year of miscarriages, stillbirths, and bad luck.

William has thought he was cursed by the gods, and he would be the last of the House Harclay. It also didn't help that William recently had his sixtieth name day, and his wife Lady Gwyneth Harclay had her fiftieth name day nine moons ago. When he heard that news of his wife pregnancy, he was ecstatic, He has prayed at the modest gods wood of the Mooncrest Keep every morning hoping that the old gods would bless him with an heir. He also had taken steps to ensure the safety of his wife and child during childbirth. William had invited a notable wise women called Hilda; the cranky old women had delivered hundreds of children successfully. He has also promised to shower Hilda in as much gold as his depleted treasury could afford. 

When the old women had heard him say that she let out a chilling cackle and said, "I care not for your gold milord, I only do as the old god's demand. Know this, you will have your heir and they will bring glory and wealth to the Harclay clan. He will be the second coming of the Builder, a she wolf be his first love but will not bear him any sons. A man of silver will take the she wolf to a tower of sand. When the quiet wolf howls, he will heed the call, and he will slay a giant dog in a room of red. He will be the lord of the mountains, and the men of iron will drown in his rage. The wolves of winter will call upon him and he will answer with a roar that shakes the very foundation of the world. The pride of the lion's will answered with disdain, and the fury of the stag will freeze in his presence. His shadow will protect the mother of dragons, and a king of ice and fire will claim him as father. When the darkness comes, he will meet it with frozen fire and dragons' breath. But you milord William, will not see any of this for there is a price of my meddling. To have a child that was not meant to be born the old gods need some of equal payment. A life for a life, you milord William were meant to be the old man in the hills living till your hundredth name day. But with the birth of your son, you will not live to see his thirteenth name day." 

William had to shake his head to get the wood witches ramblings out of his mind. He cared not for the mad speech of Hilda, even if his child was a demon William would support him till his last breath. As he rounded the corner to his bedchamber a loud wail of pain echoed through the ancient stone of his keep. Quickening his pace William looked at his bedchamber doors where the banshee like screaming was coming from. Right next to the door to his bedchambers was Caleb, one of his best warriors, making sure no one disturbed Lady Harclay during this trying time. Caleb was visible uncomfortable even through the man is typical like stone given life. In a few more steps William was in front of the door and glanced sideways at Caleb noting that the blonde-haired man twitched slightly ever time Lady Harclay screamed in pain. 

Before William could say anything to the blond-haired man Caleb said. "My lord thank the old gods you're that crazy witch is in there with a couple of other midwives. She told me to tell you that no one else is allowed in there during your Lady wife's labor." Caleb paused to catch his breath and continued, "I don't trust her my lord that hag is deranged she had some of the servants bring in a goat and a branch from the weirwood tree in your godswood. Before she closed the I saw her sharpening the branch and drawing old tongue runes around your bed with the blood of the goat." As Caleb finished talking, he visibly tightened his hold on his axe at his side. William grew even more nervous as his mind flashed to different scenarios, praying that he didn't invite a demon into his own household. 

A piercing scream echoed out of his bedchambers along with chanting that was growing increasingly loader. William could recognize the witches voice doing the chanting, and he tried to understand the words of the hag. But unfortunately, she was chanting in the old tongue, and William could only recognize a few words. As he strained his ear's trying to understand the hag, his steward Declan finally caught up with him. Declan was without a doubt the fattest person in his lands, the black-haired man had his hands on his knees. The heavy set was trying to speak through his panting. "My lord…I know you need an heir…but I can speak for the rest of the…household that this wood witch will bring nothing but a curse upon us." Declan paused finally standing up straight and looking William right in the eyes. 

William's face showed nothing as he turned his head sideways to look down at the much shorter man. Delan gulped audible as William's aged frame straightened, his slumped shoulders expanded to match the old man's height. Willaim loomed over Declan and with a stormy look upon his face the Lord Harclay spoke in a hushed voice. "You forget yourself steward, you have served House Harclay with honor for years. But if I ever hear you or anyone else for that matter speak ill of my decision. I will have your tongue for I will hold you responsible, because it is your job to manage the household." William paused as he walked towards the fat man and continued, "and for your information I have already been cursed by the gods. My wife and I have suffered year after year, heartbreak after heartbreak. If I must turn to magic so I could finally hold a child form my loins, I would gladly do so. I would cut my still beating heart from my chest and offer it to the old gods just for a glimpse at that child." 

William never raised his voiced he kept the same hushed tone of voice throughout his little speech to his steward. Declan was sweating profusely as William's emerald eyes looked down upon him. "I am sorry my lord, it will never happen again you have my word." Declan gave a swift bow to William and then retreated down the ancient hallway going towards the great hall. William watched the fat man nearly trip over his own feet when he turned the around the corner at the end of the hallway. With a mental note to keep an eye his steward, William turned back to the door of his chambers, where the screaming of his wife and the chanting of the witch were getting increasing louder. 

"Caleb, I need you to do something for me, head out to the training yard. Find out the name of the man who defeated Uther. If the man is still in the yard bring him to me." Caleb's grey eyes looked conflicted as he nodded acknowledging his lord's orders. William smiled at the blonde-haired warrior; Caleb was one of the smarter warriors among his household guard. "I'll be back as quickly as possible my lord, and I look forward to meeting the man that put Uther in his place." With that said Caleb jogged off in the direction of the training yard, a heavy sigh came out of William as he leaned against the wall to ese the pain in his shoulders.

William's mind occupied with thoughts of his wife; the first time he saw her she was working in her father's field. She was just a simple farmer's daughter, but that didn't stop William's heart from skipping a beat when he laid eyes upon her. Her red hair shined in the sunlight; her brown eyes were like a vortex and William's soul was ensnared. Even covered in dirt from working in the field, William couldn't take his eyes off her. But it was when she smiled at him that William knew that she was going to be his wife. Williams didn't care what anyone else thought that dirty farmer's daughter was the only one for him.

He courted her for a time, and in the weirwood grove of his ancestors he married her. When a wildling arrow brought him to his knees, she was there to pick him up and nurse him back to health. Through the trials and tribulations throughout his life, that women was his rock. When she had her first miscarriage, he had raged in the training yard nearly beating a man half to death. But she was made of different sterner stuff, like the mountains that we lived in the shadow of. She never wavered, nothing shook her, and as the years went by life as we knew evolved. Now here William was an old man that has seen sixty name days, praying to any gods that were listening new or old. He never wanted to be lord, it was supposed to be his bother job, but an Ironborn axe changed everything. 

In one fell swoop he was made lord of a minor noble house of the north, charged with defending the Harclay clansmen till he to was laid low by an enemy. Be it old age of sword he would do his duty, even though he himself will admit he wasn't very good at it. He loved a good fight like any mountain clansman, and he saw plenty of it throughout the years. His latest stint onto the battlefield was five years ago in the year of 260 AC, during the War of the Nine Penny Kings. William had led a contingent of his best warriors, mostly old men that had no family, and were more than likely to go on the long hunt during the winter. He and his men had taken a ship from White Harbor that was that was heading to the Stepstones. Once at the Stepstones William and his men where under command of Lord Ormund Baratheon the Hand of the king. He and his men fought on land and sea, and when Lord Baratheon was killed, they fell under command of Ser Gerold Hightower. The White Bull was a good commander for a southerner, even better Knight. 

William and his men joined up with the other northern forces when they arrived, in the south lead by Lord Rickard Stark. Southern armies are all well and good, but William would take marching in a northern host anyway. William's liege lord was a decent man to follow into battle, Harclay's have been sworn to House Stark for thousands of years. The only gripe William had about The Rickard was that he is an ambitious man. Lord Stark wanted to make alliances with southern houses, but in all honesty, William couldn't fault his Lord. The Starks have held the confidence of the mountain clans for eons. Any time the clans got to riled up a Stark ascended the mountains and knocked some sense into their thick skulls. 

During the war William and his men looted as much as they could within reason, that was the main point of marching to a war so far from home. To bring wealth back to the Harclay clan and fill up his treasury for once. Gold, silver, and good steel were always in short supply in the mountains. For over a year the war raged on, the seas and land of the Stepstones were soaked in blood. William led his small band of warriors to raid the supply lines of the Golden Company and drew them into ambushes when they retreated. It was during the final battle of the war, when the young Ser Barristan Selmy decimated the Golden Company and slew Maelys the Monstrous in single combat. Never had William seen anything like it, that young knight was the greatest swordsmen he had ever seen. William's no slouch but he knew if he crossed swords with Ser Barristan, the young man would wipe the floor with him. 

After the Golden Company was routed it was a free for all and the beast inside men were set loose. It didn't matter what army or fancy high lord they fought for, they raped and pillaged to their hearts content. The Rickard had given William and his men an order to harass any Golden Company sell swords that were fleeing in an organized manner. They did good work, hunting down any sell sword they could find. The last company of sell swords that fell to William and his men during the war had put up the most fight. A big bastard in full golden plate armor led this group of sell swords, William had his men picked them off at range with their longbows. When the heard of mercenaries was thinned, William and his men descended upon them with all the roaring fury that they could muster. It was over quick but what was left of the sell swords fought like caged animals. That big golden plated bastard took down five of William's men before he was finally buried under a mob of northmen. 

When the last sell sword had a spear put through their heart, William had his men take their spoils that they earned. As his men looted everything William walked over to the golden plated man, the big boy's golden helmet was completely smashed into where the man's brain should have been. William had noted that buried into the bloody ground in which the giant's back laid upon. Was a long canvass sack strapped onto the dead man's back, hoping for something of great value. William cut the straps to the canvass bag from the corpse and flipped it over to get to it. Prying it out of the blood-soaked soil and dusting off as much muck from the bag as possible. 

When William opened the sack the first thing, he saw was a large wooden case, made from blackened ironwood. The case had beautiful red scroll work across it, and in bold letters in the common tongue. Fire and Blood, William's old heart had almost stopped because he had a sneaking suspicion about what was in the case. Before he opened, he had glanced around at his men going about their little battlefield stripping the dead for all they were worth. William had contemplated throwing it into the sea, because if it was what he thought it was he wanted no part of it. But as many of wise men said curiosity was the downfall of the ignorant. With trembling hands, he opened it ever so slowly, and laying in the case was a sheathed hand and a half long-sword. The pommel of the sword was a red gemstone of some kind, and the grip of the sword was as black as the night sky. The cross-guard was beautifully crafted out of a distinctive swirling pattern of steel that was smoky grey in color. At the ends of the cross-guard on either side an unmistakable dragon's head was carved out of the metal of the guard. 

William had released a shaky breath of air, and with another glance around making sure he was alone. With the utmost care he withdrew a sliver of the sword from its sheath, a blade of darken steel emerged. The steel was almost hypnotic with its wave-like pattern that seemed to catch any light that touched the blade. Even though William had an idea what was in the box, and with all its glory he held in his hands a Valyrian steel sword. Not just any Valyrian steel sword, what William held in his hands was Blackfyre. The ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Targaryen, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. The most famous Valyrian steel sword of them all, and easily the most recognizable with the dragon heads on the cross-guard. 

William had hastily closed the case and showed it back into the canvass bag. William had no love for the Targaryen and the only reason he and his men fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Was because of their oaths of loyalty to House Stark, and to bring back wealth to his lands. With the dirty bloody sack in hand, he gathered up his men and high tailed it back to the northern host. William knew he wasn't going to give the most valuable thing he found during this godforsaken war to anyone. This thing was the symbol of the Blackfyre rebellions sense the first Targaryen bastard Daemon was bestowed it by his man whore of a father Aegon the Unworthy. Before they left the battlefield William had his men gather up their dead to be brought back to Harclay lands to be buried, after that he had his men burn every single sell sword body to hopefully cover their tracks. 

Back at the camp of the northern host, William stood vigil over his slain warriors alone and when he felt like the time was right, he began his grisly task. At the time William didn't know what was driving him to such lengths, greed maybe, but in the back of his mind when he thought about just turning it over to Lord Stark. Something stopped him, a whisper that he heard in the wind, the leaves that rustled seemed to speak to him even though he had no clue what they were saying. So, against his morals and better judgment William had desecrated a warrior's body who died for his house on the battlefield. He had gutted the poor man's body making as much room as possible and burned any organs or bones he removed. William good remember the dead man eyes looking at him as he carved the corpse and shoved a hand and a half long sword into his body. 

William had sown up the body as best as he could and putt clothing and armor to cover up his grisly handywork. Come morning he had wrapped the body in its death shroud and hauled the body onto a ship from House Manderly. Along with the other slain warriors of his house and all the loot he and his men gathered during the war. Williams was nervous the whole trip back north and he didn't calm down till he was back at his holdings. He had seen to the burial of the warriors that fell in the war, in the ancient crematory that held the remains of warriors that died in the service of House Harclay. Then over the cover of darkness he dug up the warrior's corpse to retrieve Blackfyre. Taking no chances he took Blackfyre to the crypts under Mooncrest Keep, the crypts were ancient housing of the bones of all noble members of House Harclay sense the Age of Heros. 

The catacombs were a labyrinth of tunnels that went deeper and deeper into the hill in which Mooncrest keep sat upon. William had taken Blackfyre to the coldest darkest corner of the crypts, and using a pick he loosened a few stones of the wall next to the founder of House Harclay. The first lord of House Harclay was Arlan Moondrake, the leader of the mountain clansmen of the southern hills during the Age of Heros. He united the hill tribesmen under his leadership, built Mooncrest Keep and fought alongside the other heroes during the Long Night. He was said to have wielded a massive great axe made from a shard of the moon. His great axe was called Wyrmcleaver, an axe of massive proportions said to have been forged out a shard of the been with the help of the children of the forest. Wyrmcleaver disappeared with the death of Arlan Moondrake 8,000 years ago. Those thoughts flashed through his mind as he sealed up the nook that Blackfyre now resided in deep in the bowls of the catacombs. 

So, for the past four years House Harclay lived off the loot from the Ninepenny War, they had brought back 600 gold dragons, 1,500 silver stags. Plus, plenty of good steel to arm his warriors, with full kits of weapons and armor. William must have leaned against the cool stone wall to his bedchambers for hours, lost among ancient memories. He was drawn out of those memories with the abrupt ending of his wife screaming. William's breath caught in his throat as he heard a baby's cry ring out from the bedroom. His ancient frame slid onto the floor and hugged his knees and began to weep with joy. 

With a tear-streaked face he stood up and hesitantly reached out his hand to open the door. But before he could open the door it was wretched open from the other side. William stood awkwardly stood in front of the wood witch Hilda. He locked eyes with the shorter old women, her grey eyes held nothing but madness and glee as she gazed upon him. "Well don't just stand there you lumbering oaf, come on in here and meet your son." The witch didn't even wait for his response before she turned around walking to his wife bedside. William completely forgot about the crazy hag as his eyes locked onto the haggard form of his wife laying on a blood-soaked bed. He quickly strode over to his wife, stepping into the runic circle of blood that was around the bed. He glanced around the room, noting a couple of midwives were in the far corner of the room staring at Hilda with eyes filled with fear. 

"The old gods have heard your prayers milord, and with their blessing you have received an heir unlike any other." Hilda said the last bit with a cackle and a yellow gaped tooth smile upon her face. William didn't care about the ravings of the lunatic his mind was fully occupied with taking in the glorious scene before him. His wife's red hair was soaked in sweat, her brown eyes were tired as she looked at him as he approached the bed. She smiled weakly at him and said, "The day is finally here William we have a son." She held out the tightly wrapped bundle to him and with shaking hands William cradled the mass of joy to his chest. His free hand lightly brushed the blanket from his son's face, and as he gazed down upon the visage of his son. The only thing William felt was pure unadulterated love and he would gladly die for this boy. 

William noted how big the boy was and glanced over to his wife who said. "Aye my love he nearly tore me in half, Hilda almost had to cut him out of me." Concerned for his wife William asked, "Is she going to be alright Hilda, if you need anything I'll have it brought here immediately." The mad women who was on the other side of the bed was carving runes into the weirwood branch that she used to kill the goat. Hilda didn't even glance up from her task, "Have not fear milord your wife is strong. That giant of a baby is proof of it, if it was you on the birthing bed you wouldn't have lasted a fraction of what she went through." Another cackle escaped her lips as she finished talking. 

With a chuckle at the mad women asked, "Have you thought of a name my beloved." Lady Harclay who was about to fall asleep said in a whisper, "Vladimir." William glanced down at his son in his arms and nodded in silent approval of his wife's choice. It was a good name, a strong name as, and has he ran his fingertips across the faint whisks of red hair growing out of his head. His sons' eyes were closed, and he wondered what color they were, would they be green like is or brown like his mother's. William sat down slowly in a chair next to the hearth in the bedroom. This boy in his arms was the future of House Harclay, Vladimir Harclay would be his salvation even if William wouldn't be there to see it.