There and Back Again

A Few Years Ago

She woke up from her night's slumber with a smile on her face. As always, the carved heads of various animals on the wooden beams hung over her bed greeted her to the new day. Once, she thought of naming them, but she didn't know many which she could bestow upon the friendly beasties. She had asked her Nuncle Will for names, but when the older man learned why she asked him for names, he laughed uproariously, making her huff in indignation.

Her brother was, however, had a very different response to her request. When he heard why she wanted to learn new names, he hit her, making her crash down on the ground. Her young mind whimpered in fear as she curled herself into a ball on the ground. Her brother continued pacing about the room snarling at her, saying that she should not bother him with such silly frivolities when he had an entire nation to think about.

She sighed into her pillow. Since that day, she never went to her brother with any of her dreams or thoughts. She had tried to build a world entirely by herself, and her animal friends who greet her every morning. She remembered the days when Nuncle Will used to take her to the docks. She loved the sea, the open air and the vast water made her giddy. She was always eager to sit on her uncle's lap as he spent an hour or two in the taverns, he said he was trying to get some information, but she loved to hear the tales of those sailors. She loved the stories from the lands that she heard was her birthplace, yet she had never set a single foot there. The names of the places sounded so mysterious to her. She tried to discuss all of these with her brother, but he always had a sneer on his face whenever the distant lands were mentioned.

She got up from her bed went to stand in front of the window in her room. Just outside of the window, a small yard with a single lemon tree could be seen. She often used the leaves of the tree in her bathwater, the lemony scent was very soothing for her. Her brother although, scoffed at her when she told him about it. He also berated her quite loudly at times for her preference of using scalding hot water for her bath. She never understood why he was so wroth with her.

She shook her head to disperse all those depressing memories. She smiled brightly as she readied herself for the day. She went out of her room to break her fast. She gave a beaming smile to the man who was sitting at the table. The man was old, and for the past several months, had been getting steadily weaker for some reason, which made her worried about him.

"Good morning, Uncle Will!"

"Good morning, Princess." The man returned her greeting with a smile of his own, "How are you this morning?"

"I am very happy, Uncle, but I must ask, how are you?"

"Oh, Princess, you do not need to worry about me." Will smiled down at her, "Come, let us break our fasts together." He helped her to sit down, even the mundane task of pulling the chair out for her had him wheezing for breath.

"You are not well, Uncle…"

"I am perfectly alright, Princess. Truly…" He waved her concerns away.

It was the moment that her brother deigned to grace them with his presence. He had a sneer permanently etched on his face. He barked his displeasure to the man who was serving food for being in his way. The man scurried away apologizing to him.

"Ser Willem. Dany." He said his greeting as he took his seat at the table.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"Good morning, Viserys." Dany replied to her brother but she kept an eye on the man that Viserys just insulted. She was worried by the looks on the man's face – she had seen that much hatred and anger only on her brother's visage whenever he was talking about Westeros and the usurper who stole their birthright.

As the man went out of the room, Dany hissed at her brother, "You shouldn't have spoken to him that way, brother."

Viserys stopped eating and looked up to her with narrowed eyes, "What care should I have for how I behave with him or how he perceives me for it. An ant has no quarrel with a boot. Do not forget, sweet sister, we are the dragons. We are born to rule these peasants."

Ser Willem cleared his throat to make Viserys get his attention off of his sister.

"Princess Daenerys was right in her observation, Your Grace. We need to be careful how we behave with the people around us. On the smallest provocation, they may sell us to the usurper's dogs."

Viserys sneered but didn't argue with the knight. He was the only one against whom he never argued. It could have been because he knew that their mother had entrusted this man with care for them. Daenerys didn't raise her head again, her eyes watered but she refused to let her brother see her tears. For it would result in a further harsh rebuke from him. They are the dragons – that was Viserys' only lesson to his sister. He never tolerated any sign of weakness from her.

[CotW]

Dany was getting worried for Ser Willem. The old knight's health deteriorated further in the ensuing days. More often than not he was ensconced within his room, too weak to even get out of his bed. Dany tried to talk with Viserys about him, but she never found him to be in a listening mood. So long that man was capable of keeping his watch over them, Viserys listened to him. But since he fell ill, it appeared as if the young dragon was waiting for the opportunity. Every day, he left the house with the first light of dawn and returned only when Dany sent someone out to find him at Uncle Will's suggestion. Even then, he had to be supported to get inside of the house because he was too drunk to stand on his own two feet, reeking of the smell of wine and cheap perfumes. He yelled at everyone around him that he would burn them alive for any perceived slight against his person. It was becoming harder and harder for Dany to convince the men to search for him at the end of each day.

Ser Willem's health worsened by each day, the once tall and powerfully built man was but a mere shadow of his former self. The fever he had caught, had made things even worse. He was continuously wheezing for breath because of his bout of coughs. Dany was very fearful for his well-being. Although she was familiar with the concept of death, as she had heard how her mother had died while giving birth to her, it was the first time in her short life that she realized what it meant for watching someone close to her die…and she was adamant to do everything in her power to not let her Nuncle Will die. She spent almost all of her time sitting beside the bedridden man, reading him from her books or pressing wet clothes over his fevered brow to give him a small respite.

It appeared as if Ser Willem knew that his time was coming to a close. Every time he saw the Princess, he was saddened to think what would happen to her when he passed. For her brother was not fit to take care of her. If he wanted to be honest, he would say that Viserys Targaryen was very much his father's son. Oh, how he wished for the Princess to know what a real Targaryen was – The Beautiful Prince, Rhaeger or their mother, the Queen Rhaella. But the lass was unfortunate enough to know only her brother, who had received the madness in all its glory. If it was possible, he would take her to the only other living dragon to let her see a Targaryen, wise and old. But even the Wall would not be a place for the white-haired Princess. He could do nought but mourn thinking about the life he was going to leave her in.

The said girl was right there, sitting in a chair beside his bed, reading him the story of Florian and Jonquil, wonder and amazement were evident in her voice.

"Princess…" His voice had become nothing more than a faint whisper. But it was enough for Dany to get out of her imagined world full of love.

"Uncle Will?"

"I have something to tell you…"

"Of course, Uncle. What do you need? I will just call for…"

He raised a frail hand and placed it on the lass' arm, stopping her from going out of the room.

"Do not worry about my needs, Princess. But do take your seat, for you must understand what I have to tell you."

Dany nodded her head in confusion and took her seat. Purple eyes boring into the pale blue eyes with burning curiosity.

"I am not for this world for very long, Princess. I am sorry that I have to leave you. I am sorry that I cannot fulfil the promise I gave to your mother…"

Dany's eyes were flowing with tears, she may not be old enough to understand everything, but she was old enough to know that her Uncle was saying goodbye to her…forever.

"It is not true, Uncle, you just have a fever. You will be fit once again in no time."

Ser Willem's chuckle turned into another bout of painful coughs.

"How I wish for that to be true, Princess. But alas, it will not be so. I can feel it within myself, it is my time to go and stand before my forefathers. Be judged by them in hope that they deem me worthy to join them in the afterlife."

Dany shook her head and furiously wiped her tears, she would not let her Uncle Will leave her.

"Do not cry for me, sweetling. You may call me uncle, but I am old enough to be your grandfather. If I had done my familial duties, I could have had a granddaughter such as you. And that is why it pains me to leave to fend for yourself in this cruel, unforgiving world."

He wheezed after coughing yet again, Dany helped him to take a few sips of water from a cup.

"I wish we had more time, Princess, but it isn't to be. I want you to remember something. Do you promise me that you will?"

Dany nodded her tiny head ardently, "I will, Uncle."

Ser Willem smiled up at her, "You are so much like your mother, you know? She was so full of love and kindness, just as you. I wanted to tell you much about her when you grow up a little more. Nonetheless, you should always remember yourself as the daughter of Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen. Sister of the Bard Prince, Rhaeger. You are the blood of dragons, sweetling. There will be people who will want to take advantage of that. Be wary of them."

Daenerys nodded again, she didn't understand all that her uncle was trying to say to her, but she agreed with him all the same.

"I had hoped for you to meet a member of your family who is not your brother. Please, do not misunderstand me, I was and still am loyal to the Targaryens, but you will not understand everything at this moment. You need to grow up a little more for anything to make sense. I require your oath on something else also, sweetling."

Dany's head moved on its own accord, she was trying very hard to latch on to the words of her uncle, what did he mean by meeting another of her family? Didn't Viserys tell her that they were the last of the dragons?

"I know of your love of tomes and stories since you have learned your letters. You will give me your oath that you won't limit yourself with only stories. You will learn everything you can of your lands - history, treaties, trades. Learn about them and try to remember them. You will not let anyone deter you from your goals. Not even your brother…" Ser Willem looked pleadingly at the young lass.

"I promise, Uncle."

A beatific smile spread into the old man's face. He reached out with his frail hand for Dany to take hold of it, "If I was able, I would have seen to your arms training. You are much more than even your brother, Princess. Do not let him convince you otherwise. I know you are afraid of him, but you also love him. If you can, if you get the chance when he becomes unbearable, you need to look after yourself, and only yourself. Do not think about him. Can you do that for me, sweetling?"

Dany had by then, climbed onto the bed and wrapped her tiny hands around the old man's neck. He could feel her sniffling into his shoulder. Ser Willem ran his hand on her back in a soothing manner, whispering into her ears –

"Your mother watches over you, Princess, as does your brother Rheager. I will watch over you too. Always remember, the ones who love us, never truly leave us. Be strong, Daenerys Stormborn, be strong."

[CotW]

It was not long after their conversation that Ser Willem Darry, once a fierce knight of the realm and commander of the Gold Cloaks, released his last breath. Dany was devastated for losing her Uncle Will. She knew - heard from her brother that their father was killed by a Lannister. Their elder brother was slain by the usurper…and of course, Viserys always blamed her for their mother's death. But this time, she felt the loss, she didn't know any of her family members to feel the loss of them, but Uncle Will was a different matter altogether. He taught her the letters, encouraged her to read and learn. She thought that if her father was alive and with her, he would have been just like the old knight.

Viserys only seemed to be perturbed that his daily visit to the city was hindered. Uncle Will told her once that though they didn't have a lot, he tried to provide all he could for both her and her brother as much as possible. After his death, Viserys ranted and raved, Dany was scared to even stand in front of her angered brother. She also didn't like the way the household staff were looking at them both. She didn't go out of her rooms much, a fear always seemed to hang about the house.

[CotW]

She couldn't keep her eyes open. It had been days since they were on road. The fear that she felt after Uncle Will's death, had come true. One day, the staff almost broke open the doors to her room and started to go through her meagre possessions. She cried and begged them to not destroy her books, but they were relentless, they ripped apart everything but her clothes in search of something. When they couldn't find whatever it was that they were looking for, they yelled at her. Dany just kept sitting under the window with her knees tucked into her chest. She was trembling in fear of getting hit by them. She didn't know how long they were yelling at her but the woman who used to brush her hair came into the room and spoke something to the men. She didn't understand everything but she heard them speaking the usurper's name. There was also some arguing amongst them about something called Lysian Pleasure Houses. They were talking about selling something. In the end, they all gave her filthy looks before going out of the room and barring the broken door so that she couldn't leave. She didn't want to leave her room either. She cried herself to sleep in the midst of her ruined possessions.

She didn't know for how long she slept. But the sound of someone trying to open the doors of her room woke her up. Once again Dany crawled to her safe place below the window and sat there making herself as small as she could. She prayed to her mother, brother and Uncle Will that the men from before hadn't come back to beat her.

She felt a little relieved when she saw that it was Viserys, her brother looked as if he had been rolling in the mud for the entirety of the day. Her generally well-groomed brother had dishevelled hair, torn and bloody clothing and a bruise was forming on his left cheek. Viserys came into the room and started to go through her things just the same as those men before him. But he also tore open her pillows and some metallic sounds made her look up to see why he was doing that.

A slender crown fell from her torn pillow. Someone had sewn that thing inside of her pillow along with a small pouch. She had thought it was none other than her Uncle Will. But what are those?

"Viserys? What…"

"Shut up!" Viserys hissed at her, making Dany cower even more.

Viserys looked around for some time before he stopped his search. He was muttering under his breath, Dany tried her best to catch what her brother was saying –

"I knew that old bastard had the money hidden…and he took my Mother's crown? If he was not dead, I would have killed him. He wouldn't have liked me when he woke the dragon…"

"Viserys?" Dany's pitiful voice stopped his ranting and he turned towards her as if he only became aware of her presence because she called him.

"Sweet sister." A vicious smirk spread on his face as he approached her with a limp, "Do you see now? Do you see what happens when you put your trust in the usurper's dogs? Ser Willem thought we were safe here, but I knew all along, they were just waiting for an opportunity. Kepa warned me about them. All those backstabbers hiding in the dark…" He spat a glob of spit to the side, scarlet spittle which proved that he had quite a welcome waiting for him.

"Do not worry, sweet sister, you have me. I will take care of you. I need to, you know? It is upon us now to keep the dragons alive. You will become my queen when I finally claim my birthright." He grabbed Dany's shoulder and forcefully pulled her up to her feet.

They had fled that very night, under the darkness. Dany kept looking back at the house with red doors and the lemon tree in its yard. So many fond memories crept up to the forefront of her mind that happened at that house. She didn't complain when Viserys dragged her along the darkened streets and alleys. She didn't complain when he made her put on a big cloak to hide her features. She certainly didn't complain when her brother snapped at her for she was petting the horses he just bought for them. She couldn't complain, for every time she thought about shedding her tears, a whispering voice rang in her ears – Be strong, Daenerys Stormborn.

*Line Break*

The Land Beyond the Wall, about the same time the Wolfpack was at the Greywater Watch

Benjen Stark was used to receiving awed and revered looks from his Black Brothers. He took pride in those stares because he had worked hard to earn the rank of the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. But since his return from his ranging mission beyond the Wall with his nephews, the looks had added a new emotion behind the eyes of the watchers – fear. Fear of the giant, black direwolf that had deemed him worthy enough to accept his companionship. Sometimes his mind rebelled, his thoughts raged against his own beliefs and experiences – his travel to the ancient lands, meeting a man long thought dead, the Children of the Forest…and above all, the blessing from a Goddess – did all of those truly happened? Then his hand, on its own accord, ran through the softest fur he had ever felt, and a giant snout would nudge his side, chasing away all the doubts from his mind. Grim was the living proof of what they had seen, and what would come true in the not so distant future.

After Robb and Jon departed from the Wall, Benjen had gone out for a couple of ranging beyond. He had travelled to all the known locations where wildlings were frequented, but he felt an unease in the air, something that sent a shiver down his spine, and it was not the coldness. His companions were all seasoned veterans of the Watch. Yet, they were all huddled together, just to reassure themselves that they were not alone, that there was a warm body beside them. Benjen was confused if he should laugh at them or chastise them – for grown men was behaving like little babes. He kept his thoughts to himself only because of the unease that he himself was feeling.

Grim was in his elements, he was born of these lands. The moment they got out of the tunnel underneath the Wall, the wolf would run off into the dense, dark forest. he was amazed that such a huge beast could move so silently. The wolf would appear as sudden as he would vanish within the shadows. His men had cursed under their breaths whenever the direwolf would jump out of the woods right into their path. Benjen had a sneaky feeling that Grim enjoyed making those men squirm. What with whenever he scolded the wolf and him standing there with his tongue lolling out and tail whipping about playfully, Benjen could only shake his head at his wolf's antics. But Grim was free with his generosity too, he would sometimes drag a buck or a wild boar that he had hunted for his human and his friends. Benjen looked on with amusement as the men would make a fire to prepare their meals while muttering darkly and throwing filthy looks at the wolf for scaring the literal shit out of them.

The abandoned settlements of the wildlings made him tensed. His visits with Craster also proved nothing. The old lecher took a single look at Grim and hurried back to his keep, refusing to get out in the open. After much cajoling and a promise of casks of ale on their return visit, made him open the doors for mere inches to peer at them and talk through the gap. What he did say made no sense at all whatsoever. The wildling tribes had abandoned their homes in droves, they were moving, but to where, Craster had no idea. He never had a very favourable stand within the wildlings, most knew about him being a craven lecher who snitched to the Watch. Benjen was forced to return to Castle Black without any information about the wildling movements. They had about two years of time on their hands before everything went to hells, didn't they?

[CotW]

Besides performing his duties as the First Ranger of the Watch, Benjen lent a hand to Ser Aliser Thorne to train in the new recruits. The Targaryen loyalist knight had still carried a grudge for his defeat against Jon, and it bled through with his interaction with the First Ranger, but he couldn't pick a fight with him, knowing that the Stark was well-loved and respected amongst the men. He contented himself by giving baleful glares at the man whenever he thought that he was crossing into his territory and giving instructions to the new meats. He couldn't even challenge him with a spar, what with that damned wolf of his.

Benjen smirked as he led the new recruits down the tunnel to the opposite side of the Wall. He could feel the glare of Ser Aliser bore into his back, he loved to wind up the cantankerous man. He knew it was petty, but he couldn't just let him be after hearing what he said about Jon when he departed from the Wall. So he took whatever revenge he could in his own subtle ways.

He and three other Black Brothers led the six new recruits to the Haunted Forest to swear their oath in front of the Hearts Tree. To his immense surprise, the group of recruits consisted of one Waymar Royce, son of the Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone, a knight of the realms and a devout follower of the Seven. When he had asked the man why he chose to take his oath beneath the Hearts Tree instead of the small Sept at the Wall, he was regaled with the tale of how his nephews and their friends carried a pregnant direwolf with them so the beast can give birth in a safe place. He learned from him that the she-wolf had taken to follow his brother just as Grim had chosen him as his companion. Ned had apparently named her Iss and the she-wolf whelped six cubs - one for each Stark child. In his own words, Waymar Royce told Benjen his reasoning –

"I have heard from my lord father that the Northerners are sturdier folks than all other kingdoms. I had scoffed at that, being from Vale, the land that produced valiant knights. Then I saw four young men, younger than me, barely out of their childhoods…and these men were already veteran heroes of the people. They had led men to war and returned home with tales of their valour spoken in hushed whispers – the Bright Sun, Torrhen Karstark; the Iron Shield, Asher Forrester; the Young Wolf, Robb Stark…and above all, the White Wolf, Jon Snow."

Benjen was not aware of the names the rest of the four were referred with, this was a piece of shocking news to him. But Waymar was not finished in his pondering, "I, obviously thought myself as their better. How could I not, I am older and stronger than them. I worked hard to earn my spurs. Also, I thought the rumours of them were just that, rumours. I tried to put the young upstarts to their places and challenged Snow in the yard. Never in my life have I seen someone so young move with such fluidity. But he has done it and had me staring at the point of his blade, while mine own laid on the ground far from my reach even before I understood what was going on.

I had heard stories of Sers Arthur and Barristan; I have seen Ser Jaime fight. I can say right now that Jon Snow will grow his legend to the likes of these men. I am to swear my oath to serve the Watch. I am deep in the heart of the North. Hence, I have decided that while I will not forsake my beliefs, I will swear my oaths before the Gods of North. I need to ask for their blessings so I can stand with my head hold high one day and say 'I swore my oath before Jon Snow's Gods.'"

While Benjen might not understand the young knight's words or reasons, he certainly understood his conviction. He smiled while thinking about Lya's boy.

"We are here." A gruff voice brought Benjen out of his ruminating. He looked up to see that they were near the Hearts Tree.

"Come on, lads, we have to continue on foot from here." He said as he got off from his horse.

One by one, the new recruits got off and looked around at the dense foliage with fear in their eyes. Benjen and Grim led the way towards the Weirwood tree. When they reached the tree, Waymar was first to kneel down and put a hand on the tree trunk, bowing his head for a short prayer. Probably something he had learned from Jon or Robb – thought Benjen. Waymar got up from his position and stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of his Brothers. All six of them went down on their knees facing the Hearts Tree. As one, they began to chant the oath of the Brotherhood of the Night's Watch –

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins, it shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch – for this night and all the nights to come."

A solemn silence permitted in the air, the men who invoked the pledge had looks of utter reverence in their faces as they looked up to the carved frowning face on the Hearts Tree. It felt as if the very world had heard their words, and accepted their vow to welcome them in the once prestigious Band of Brothers to uphold their pledges of protecting the innocents of all kingdoms, people of all stages of life – for a Brother of the Night's Watch never took part in the politics of men. They were to leave behind whatever title they once held before they set foot on the mysterious Wall of ice.

Benjen shook himself from the chilling thoughts and nodded his head to the Brothers who stood a little way apart from them. One of them opened the saddlebag he carried and brought out a bundle of furs from within and handed them over to Benjen. He walked over to the kneeling men and stood before them –

"Please get up, Brothers. From now on, you are one of us – a Brother of the Night's Watch. I welcome you to our proud and noble mission."

The men each took a piece of fur from his hand, which turned out to be black cloaks made out of furs, they divested their own - Waymar's cloak had the sigil of his house – and donned the black cloaks. They had looks of uncertainty about them, but smiles of pride shone through the gloom which was cast by the dusk that was announcing of the night's advance. The other two companions of Benjen's approached the new Brothers and grasped their forearms in a sign of brotherhood, welcoming them to their ranks as well. Granted they are nought but new meats to don the cloaks, and they had a long way to go before they earn their names among the Black Brothers, but all of them had begun from this very start, pledging their oaths before the Gods.

As they got back to where the horses were tethered, Grim's hackles were raised as he started to growl at the darkening shadows. Benjen's practised eyes caught movements not too far from where they stood. He first thought about alerting the men to be on their guard, but a feeling deep inside of him told him that he needed to be alone for whatever it was to come forth.

"Get on your horses and go back to the Castle. I will be coming in a little while."

All of them nodded their heads and got up their horses, but Waymar Royce stood beside Benjen, "Are you sure, Ranger Stark?" He hadn't taken his eyes off of the direction at where Grim was still growling.

Benjen smiled back at the young man, he has good instincts. I hope the Lord Commander assigns him to the Rangers – he thought to himself.

"Aye, Brother Waymar, I am. Carry on with the others, I will be joining you shortly."

Waymar nodded and got up on his horse, trudging along with the others through the snow-covered ground towards Castle Black. When they were but a speck in the distance, Benjen prepared himself for a confrontation he was sure to come. He strode over to where Grim was still standing, keeping a watch with bared teeth. He ran his gloved hand on the wolf's back, feeling a nudge in his mind from him which was telling him to be wary of the shadows. He patted his head and strode forward, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Man and wolf walked in a steady gait towards the shadows of the Haunted Forest.

As soon as they reached the edge of the trees, the shadows moved once again. Benjen unsheathed his sword and stood ready, his left hand sank deep in the furs of Grim's neck, keeping the wolf from darting forward.

"We come in peace, Crow." A voice came from within the shadows.

"Show yourselves!" Benjen barked back.

Three shadows detached themselves and came forward slowly, their features became clear in the dying light of the sun. The one in the middle was a giant of a man who had a crudely made battle-axe hung on his back. His red hair and beard were braided and he had bright blue eyes. If Benjen didn't know better, he would have said that the man was of some relation of his goodsister. The one on his left was a mousy youth with brown hair and eyes. His eyes shifted back and forth from Grim to Benjen, fear was evident on his pale face. But it was the lass on the giant's other side that caught his eye, for she was not afraid or distrustful as the other two. She was cautious, but curiosity was etched on her face. The girl was nearly the same age as his nephews, she had a slender build, dark red hair was slung on a shoulder in a thick braid, on the other shoulder, hung a quiverful of arrows and a hunting bow. All three of them had their hands held before them in a show that they were not carrying any arms in their hands.

"Me name is Tormund," the giant started to speak haltingly, "Tormund Giantsbane. I am the leader of me clan. This here is Aurick, lad's our scout. An' the lass is Ygritte, the best hunter of me clan."

Benjen nodded, "My name is Benjen Stark, I am the First Ranger of the Night's Watch."

The giant, Tormund as he said his name was, looked between Benjen and Grim and muttered, "A kin o' the Starks. I shoulda known that."

"What do you mean by that?" Benjen frowned, he patted Grim's back as the wolf snarled.

The three wildlings had taken a step back seeing the direwolf baring his fangs, Tormund looked fearfully at the horse-sized wolf and said –

"Ye Starks are known beyond the Wall, Crow. Ye are the blood of the Winter Kings, known to have direwolves with ye. An' you also have Free Folks blood in ye…Bael the Bard?" He and his companions snorted at that.

Benjen's lips peeled back and he too bared his teeth just as his wolf friend, "Careful with what you speak of, wildling."

Grim answered to his agitation by taking a few steps forward himself, making the three cower and hastily holding up their arms.

"Alrigh', alrigh'! We won't be japin' abou' yer forefathers, Crow! Calm yer beast down!"

Once again Benjen reached for the wolf's back and sank his gloved hand into his warm fur. Grim cocked his head and sat on his haunches.

"Don't you see direwolves in these forests? Why are you so afraid of him?"

"Besides the fact o' them bein' the fiercest beasts on this side o' the Wall, ye mean?" Tormund snarked back at him. "We are always afraid o' the wolves. More of me men lost their lives an' limbs to the wolves than all o' the shadowcats put together. An' above all this here beast is supposed ta be a blessing of the Gods."

Immediately Benjen became alert, Grim also got up on his feet and crouched low to pounce at a moment's notice.

"What are you trying to say?" Benjen growled.

"As I said, innit? Aurick here is our scout. He was out scoutin' one day an' came back all scared 'cause he saw a buncha Crows an' lordlings traipsin' in our forest. We followed 'im to see a camp of the Southerners. Then, outta the air, ye an' a wee lordling came ta talk ta them before vanishin' again. Next mornin', ye with four young uns came back an' got ready ta leave when this here beast with his mate found ye. We were shittin' in our breeches watchin' all that an' whaddya know, out came one o' the fuckin' Children an' blessed one o' ye." Tormund shook his head in awe.

"We been tryin' ta find ye since then. We even threatened that cunt Craster ta get yer name. All he said is that ye are a Ranger Crow." He snorted, "Like we dinnit know that already. We been lookin' fer ye Ranger Crows when this day we finally find ye."

Benjen didn't know what to say to that. He sheathed his sword but kept his hand on the pommel, showing them he was ready to strike at them given the minutest encouragement, not to disregard the huge fucking beast of a wolf beside him.

"Very well, you have found me. What do you need from me then?"

Tormund indicated at his raised hands with his chin, asking permission if he could lower them, to which, Benjen nodded his head. The wildling lowered his hands and jerked them a few times to get some soreness out after keeping them raised for so long.

"We dinnit know yet, Crow. All we know is that there's a change in the wind in here lands. An' we don' like it. Many clans now movin' away from their homes. I dunno 'bout you Southerners, but in this side o' the Wall, we still pray to the Old Gods an' believe in the Children o' the Forest."

"You keep calling me a Southerner, but I am as much a Northerner as any of you."

"All ye kneelers south o' the wall are Southerners ta us." The girl, Ygritte, muttered in a quiet voice, not taking her eyes off of Grim. She flinched back when the wolf cocked his head to look at her.

"Aye, we dinnit know who ye all are but Southerner, an' more, the blacks are Crows." Tormund snorted at his own jape.

Benjen rubbed his forehead, the conversation was not going anywhere, "Alright, let us say that I believe your words, but why come to me? Why not try to talk to the Lord Commander of the Watch? Or better yet, your lot have managed to cross the Wall and raid several of the villages, some others took advantage of that not too long ago. Why not try to seek an audience with my brother? He is the Lord Stark after all."

Tormund frowned, "An' I thought that I found a clever Crow. This Lord Commander of yer would listen ta us? Yer kneeler brother won't have us killed where we stand? We ain't have our heads frozen, ye know?"

"Aye, there is bad blood between your people and the men of Watch and also the Northern realm. I will give you that. But you didn't answer my question, why seek me out?"

"Because o' him." Tormund gestured towards Grim, making Benjen frown, "Direwolves had left the Stark's side fer centuries. Yet here they are again, once more walkin' at the side o' a Stark. Whatever it is stirrin' in the snow, is callin' out ta the bloods o' Winter Kings. An' we saw ye receive blessin' from a Child. We needed ta know ye. I need ta know if ye can help me in keepin' me folks safe." He sighed deeply.

Benjen nodded, "While I cannot assure you of whatever dangers are brewing in the deep north, We, my nephews and I, were alerted of the danger. We still don't know how or when they will come, but we were warned to not speak of them out in the open. You of all people should know of the danger of doing so." He looked at the man pointedly.

Tormund had gone pale, his eyes wide and lips trembling.

"Fuck! Ye must be japin', Crow!"

Benjen shook his head, "I wish that I were, but no, I don't."

"Fuck me blue balls! Now all of these make sense. The Children, the wolves. I reckon yer kin got the she-wolf ta follow him? Just as the tales o' Winter Kings o' old times?"

"No, as far as I know, she chose my brother, Lord Stark as her companion. But she has whelped six pups – one for each of my nieces and nephews. As of now, there are seven direwolves south of the Wall."

Tormund became more agitated by the news, he pulled at his braided beard, "Fuckin' hell! It's worse than we thought. Stark bloods are bein' called again. What are we ta do, Crow?"

"Stop panicking, man!" Benjen growled loudly, "You want to keep your people safe, that I can understand. I don't know how much of a help I can be, but I can provide some information to you for the time being. Will you listen?" He spoke with authority in his voice, the commanding aura of the First Ranger of the Night's Watch was shining through.

"Aye, We'll listen ta ya." The redheaded giant calmed somewhat.

"Good, first of all, find a place for your clan, move them to a safer place. Don't tell me where but take them as fast as you can. I don't know how much time we have, but I am also aware the other clans are already on the move, which means they are sensing the dangers too." Tormund nodded in agreement. "I will try to talk to my brother. I truly don't know how much of a success I will be, but others are already beginning the preparation for any inevitability. We Starks always say that 'Winter is coming', this time, it sure is. And Gods willing, we will weather it once more."

Tormund kept his eyes trained on Benjen as he was speaking, after his rant, he nodded his head, "We jus' wanted ta know ye, Crow. Wanted ta see if the Gods blessed the wrong uns. But ye ain't that. I still don' trust ye, ye bein' a Crow an' brother of a kneeler. But I'll tell ye one thin' an' nothin' more…" he slowly approached the Ranger, keeping a wary eye on the wolf and brought his mouth near his ear, "Ye need ta learn abou' the 'Horn o' Joramun'."

Benjen narrowed his eyes as the giant stepped back to his place, "Very well, I will keep that in mind. Now, if that is all, I will be taking my leave."

"Aurick or Ygritte will find ye if we come ta know anythin' more." Tormund nodded back to him and turned to go back the way they came. The lad named Aurick, who kept his mouth close and his eyes unwaveringly on Grim, followed suit without uttering a single word. But the girl fidgeted.

"Something on your mind, lass?" Benjen asked curiously.

The girl looked up to him before averting her eyes quickly, she kept picking on the string of her bow.

"What is it?"

Benjen had to lean closer to hear what she muttered low under her breath, "The lordling, the one who got the bow, what's his name?"

Benjen frowned, "You mean Jon?"

Tormund had stopped walking and was looking back in their direction, he caught what they were talking about and laughed uproariously –

"Har! Ygritte here is smitten with yer kin, Crow! She wanted ta steal him when she first saw him!"

The girl, Ygritte, glared back at his leader, "I dinnit want ta steal him, I…I just want ta know his name."

Benjen couldn't help but smirk at that, is she blushing? – he thought as he watched the girl's crimson cheeks. She turned to look at him with hopeful eyes, "His name is Jon?"

"Aye, lass. And do not be ashamed if you like him. I heard that he has that effect on many a lass that came across him. He is my nephew."

"He has a wolf his own? Where is he now?" Ygritte blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth with wide eyes, mortified to let her emotion run free of her.

Benjen gave her a wide smile, "Aye, he does. One with fur as white as snow from what I heard. He named him Ghost. And right now, he is travelling to Kings' Landing – far in the South."

"Oh!" was all the girl could say before running after her still chuckling leader, much to Benjen's amusement.

*Line Break*

Sunspear, Dorne – the Old Palace

Five days after Ser Arthur had left Kings' Landing

Prince Doran Martell of House Nymeros Martell sat in his solar looking out of the large window towards the bright blue water of the Summer Sea. The aged Prince was confined to his chair due to bouts of gout. His inflamed joints made it impossible for him to move on his own. He had to depend on his wheeled chair to move within his palace, or the palanquin to travel farther if need be. Prince Doran usually kept his legs and feet covered with a blanket, a feeble try to not appearing weak in the eyes of opponents.

He knew what people say about him – he was a coward to not take action. A preacher of peace. But in reality, Prince Doran was cautious and calculative. He weighed every possibility before he took a step in any direction. He had learned to think with his head, other than thinking with his cock or sword hand. Thus, he was labelled as the Cowardly Prince by the whispers amongst the Dornish.

His thoughts were broken by gentle knockings on the doors of his solar, "Enter." He called out.

Areo Hotah, his faithful servant came in with his head bowed.

"He has returned, My Prince."

Doran raised an eyebrow, amusement mixed with irritation flashed in his otherwise impassive face, "Did he now?"

Areo bowed low, "Yes, My Prince. Also, there is another man with him, I don't know who he is, but from his garbs, he appears to be from North."

North? Why would a Northerner come all this way from his home? – thought Doran.

"Very well. Send them in."

"By your command, My Prince." Areo went out of the room.

Doran trained his eyes towards the doors and kept waiting for the visitors. Soon enough, two men strode inside. One of them, a man with willowy built, was wearing a rather drab set of clothes, a threadbare headwear, and appeared to have unshaven facial hair for a couple of weeks. The other was garbed in the clothes of a Northern captain of guards, or more precisely, a Stark captain of guards, which was rather evident from the direwolf sigil that adorned his chest. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his face was hidden by his close-cropped beard and moustache and the half helm that he wore.

The first man's demeanour changed the moment he crossed the threshold of the room. His posture straightened while arrogance and confidence bled through his gait. He had taken off his headwear and wiped his face with it, which had caused his face to become rather clean of the grimes he had collected on his travels, along with his unshaven beard – which was apparently false. He came to a stop in front of Doran and bowed his head with a flourish.

"Brother."

Doran had to take his eyes off of the Northerner who was kneeling and looked up towards the man, "Oberyn." He said with a sigh.

"No 'welcome home' for me, brother?"

Doran raised an eyebrow, "Oh? I was not aware that you had left Dorne."

Oberyn threw his head back and laughed, a deep belly laugh that reverberated around the room.

"So true, brother, so true."

Doran sighed again and rubbed his forehead, his brother always managed to incite headaches for him.

"I do remember to warn you that you are to stay put and not go to the Capitol. So tell me, Oberyn, where were you?"

Oberyn looked like a child who had been caught while stealing a sweet and sneaking back to his room.

"I had to go there, brother. You do understand that -"

He was cut off by his brother's raised hand, "Save your excuses, Oberyn. I do not want to hear them." His eyes went back to the kneeling man.

"Ah, yes. I have acquired quite an interesting companion on my return trip, brother." Oberyn smirked at his brother's questioning gaze. He frowned at the kneeling man while he took a seat beside his brother, "For the sake of our ancestors, do take your fucking helm off, man. Let him see your face."

The kneeling man hesitated for a bit before taking off his helm. When he looked up to face the Martell brothers, Doran's eyebrows had shot upwards.

"Arthur Dayne." He whispered as he looked closely at the man's face. He leaned back into his seat with his shoulders slumped, "It seems that the news of your death was greatly exaggerated."

Arthur winced at the barb, "Forgive me, My Prince, the time and situations were not in my favour, I had to remain in the shadows, for I am a Kingsguard till the end of my days."

Oberyn sat forward eagerly in his seat, "At least now tell us under which rock you have hidden yourself. You were infuriatingly quiet during our journey here."

Doran stopped his impetuous brother, "I am sure that Arthur will indulge us with his thrilling tale of surviving. What I am more eager to learn is why now? Why reveal yourself to us now?"

"I have come bearing a gift, My Prince."

"Oh?"

Arthur put the saddlebag he was carrying on his shoulder on the table in front of the Princes. He opened the bag and carefully brought out the thing and placed it upon the bag.

Both the brothers were shocked to see the gift that the apparently alive but claimed dead man had brought for them. On the table, sat the severed head of the man they despised the most in the world – one Gregor Clegane.

Doran was looking at the macabre thing in front of him while within his head, he was putting the torn pieces of parchments together to reveal the hidden message. Oberyn took one look at the severed head and burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard that he fell out of his seat and rolled on the floor.

"The Enormity that Rode! And here I was getting angry but also amused thinking that his fucking head ended up as dog shit! Oh, Arthur! You don't know how happy you have made me today. If I weren't faithful to my loving wife, I would have kissed you!"

What? Arthur was shocked, he could not believe his ears. Oberyn Martell, the famous lecher of the Seven Kingdoms, the man who was known to frequent every whorehouse of whatever realm he was present, who never differed from his lust – be it a man or a woman - claiming to be faithful to his wife? And when did he got married to Ellaria Sand, his known paramour?

Doran finally looked away from the severed head that was placed before him. He took a closer look at Arthur. A smile started to form on his face.

"So Eddard Stark finally told his nephew about his birth parents. That is great news indeed."

Arthur's jaw slackened hearing his words.

"My Prince…how…?"

"You are not the only one with secrets, old friend." He looked down at the floor with a frown where Oberyn was still thumping on the ground laughing, "Oberyn, enough! Stop this childishness and calm down."

At once, Oberyn Martell sobered up, he got up from the floor and brushed himself off the dirt, he gave his brother a nod before sitting back down. Doran turned his attention towards Arthur –

"Now, before we tell you anything further, we would like to know about how you survived. But first…"

He called out for Areo, asked him to send for some servants with food and drinks. The Norvosi didn't even blink when Doran asked him to take the severed head and put it in a safe place.

[CotW]

Arthur had told the Princes about his life after the events at the Tower of Joy while they partook in their evening meal. The Martell brothers had listened to him with absolute attention, only stopping him to ask a question or two to get a clearer image. The three were now nursing a cup of wine each after finishing their meals.

"If you pardon my curiosity, My Prince, how do you come to know about Jon?"

Doran appeared weary and all of his fifty years of age, even without letting out the pains of gout he was suffering from, he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window to see the sea glinting in the light of the setting sun.

"I have always had an inkling. We knew about what Elia had concocted about the she-wolf." He sighed sadly and shook his head. He turned to see the shocked look on Arthur's face. "You seem surprised, Arthur. Do you think that I would not know what my own sister was thinking or doing? She always used to turn to me whenever she needed my advice on anything. She was a premature babe, born before her time. She was always sickly but the sweetest little thing. She told us about the complications she endured while birthing Rhaenys. The Mad King was always after her blood. He was getting antsy for an heir for Rhaeger to continue the dragon dynasty. But she was not able to become pregnant after her suffering with Rhaenys.

People think that it was Rhaeger who became enamoured with Lyanna. Yes, the girl was as beautiful as she was wild. She was the very woman that every Dornish man and woman would have given up their right hand to be with. But it was not your Prince who became besotted with her, it was my sister, Elia. She had heard about the fierce she-wolf from one of the Manderlys who visited during her coronation. The only lord to do so as the Northerners are a reclusive lot. Later, when she was heavy with Rhaenys, she was at the Riverlands with Queen Rhaella. I heard from her that Lyanna Stark was also there that time with her brother, Brandon, visiting Brandon Stark's then betrothed, Catelyn Tully."

Doran took a sip of his wine to relieve his parched throat, "She fascinated her because she was everything that Elia could not be – fierce, wild, good with arms. It was only the colour of her skin that differentiated her from a Dornish woman. After when Rhaenys was born and Elia came to know about her condition, she pushed Rhaeger to pursue the she-wolf. It was her who sent him on his travel to the Wall, under the guise of visiting his uncle. You went along with him; do you remember?" He asked Arthur.

"Yes, My Prince, Rhaeger made stops at Winter Town on his way to the Wall and back. We caught glimpses of the Princess during our stay there. We had disguised ourselves to not let anyone know of our travels. I didn't even know that he approached her. He only disclosed it all to me when we were back at Kings' Landing. They were already sending ravens to each other by then."

"Yes, Elia had finally managed to make Rhaeger see her reasons. It was not uncommon for Targaryens to take two wives. Even the Faith wouldn't have been opposed to that idea. Elia thought it was best for everybody. Lyanna would give birth to an heir to the throne, Elia would get to have her as her sister-wife, the Mad King would have been deposed by Great Council, Rhaeger on the throne and ruling with the help of Corrington and Rickard Stark, while Stark bringing in his friend Jon Arryn. An ambitious and quite dangerous undertaking for sure, but if it had been a success, the Seven Kingdoms would have prospered for days to come."

Arthur sat there dumbfounded, "You agreed with this scheme?" He asked in a disbelieving tone. He knew of Doran's nature to always be cautious and calculative. He couldn't believe that he would have supported Princess Elia's mad schemes.

"We didn't." Came Oberyn's solemn reply, "At first we thought it was all Rhaeger's doing. He planned to dishonour our sister and set her aside to satiate his lust. I was ready to do what Brandon Stark did – ride to the Red Keep and demand satisfaction. But Elia took us to the task. She made us see from her perspective. With Rhaeger marrying Lyanna, they would finally honour the Pact of Ice and Fire; a little differently, but still permissible. With that, the North was allied with the Throne despite their reclusive nature. Rickard Stark would have made his friend Jon Arryn come along to join the Small Council at his goodson's request; renewing the relationships between the Crown and Vale.

Think about it, Arthur, the Mad King had turned every other kingdom the enemy of the Crown. It was quite an ingenious ploy to get all the realms band together once again. Granted, I am not that political-minded, but Doran thought upon it and gave his approval. Dorne was allied with marriage, as would the North have been. The Reach was always a Targaryen loyalist. North would have brought the Riverlands along through marriage between Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully, and the Vale through the friendship between Stark and Arryn. Stormlands…" Oberyn grimaced in distaste, "Stormlands was already kin to the Throne. Six kingdoms standing together, only leaving out the Westerland and the fucking cunt, Tywin Lannister. Which was planned to be resolved by marrying Cersei Lannister off with Robert Baratheon."

Oberyn refilled all of their cups, then he continued, "Everything was going according to the plan. The cursed tourney of Harrenhal was a ploy to get all the lords to come. Rhaeger planned to form his Great Council there, as well as proposing the betrothal between him and Lyanna to Lord Stark. But everything went wrong afterwards as you know. Varys caught wind that Rhaeger was planning something, and planted the seed of doubt in Aerys' mind, making him attend the tourney. It all went to hell when the fucking stag started to boast that he was offered betrothal for Lyanna.

We tried to salvage it all, but Lyanna was inconsolable. Brandon Stark was apparently quite happy to go along with Robert's proposal – being the like-minded fools that they were. And I always thought Ned Stark was a stag hiding in wolfskin for the way he followed Robert everywhere. Elia told us that Lord Rickard was trying to get everything under control, but Lyanna was still a young lass, she threatened Rhaeger with dire consequences if he left her alone for any longer, forcing him to take the drastic measure and they eloped."

Oberyn sat there glaring at his cup. Arthur knew most of these, save for the politics that were happening behind the veils. He wondered why Rhaeger didn't tell him any of these. Did he fear that the Kingsguard would have been alerted of the dethronement and sided with Aerys as per their oaths? Arthur didn't know whom he would have supported if it all came to bear result – the King he had sworn his oath to or the Prince who was more than a brother to him? His heart or his mind - the contradicting emotions were making his head spin.

Oberyn continued to speak, "We tried our best when the Rebellion started. We had a plan to isolate Robert and Ned Stark and take them as captives. We didn't think that Connington would fumble so badly. It was his unexpected defeat that threw all our options out. We planned to use the Rebellion to dethrone Aerys since our peaceful strategy failed even before starting. Did you know that Rhaeger was sick? He was suffering from a fever when he faced Robert. I would have liked to see the fucking stag stand before fighting fit Rhaeger. Uncle Llewyn lost his life in his bid to keep him safe, Barristan was drawn far from him in his battles. Lonmouth was with us till the end but suffered a nasty blow to the head and lost consciousness. Still, a weak Rhaeger kept fighting like a demon. I thought that victory was within our grasp. But fate was not favourable to us and Rhaeger fell before the stag, afterwards, everything turned into a fucking nightmare." Oberyn leaned back in his chair like a broken man, tears spilt from his eyes unrestrained.

Doran was massaging his forehead, as his brother seemed to have spent all his energy, he started to continue the conversation, "We have always doubted that Ned Stark's bastard was truly Lyanna's boy by Rhaeger. We have kept an ear out for any news of the lad. Then, a few years ago, news of this Jon Snow started to come to us. We have kept a close watch as he progressed on his way. Any indication of his birth and we would have ghosted him away from the North, we would have kept him hidden here and prepared him. And now…now you have come us bearing a gift of the Enormity's head – confirming that our doubt, after all, is true indeed. Because the alternative that is floating in the air is not conceivable at all." He turned towards Oberyn, who had composed himself from his emotional upheaval, "Tell him, brother."

Oberyn nodded and sat forward in his seat, he kept his face impassive as he stared deeply at Arthur, "Arthur, Ashara is not dead."

"What?!" Arthur had shot up from his seat.

"Yes, my friend, your sister is still alive."

Arthur covered the distance between the two of them in a single stride and grabbed Oberyn by the collar of his shirt. He yanked him up on his feet to bring him at his eye level, "Oberyn, I love you dearly, for we have grown up together as the best of friends. Do not jape with me about such matter." He growled low in his throat.

Oberyn gently extricated himself from the enraged knight's grasp. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder and spoke unwaveringly –

"It is true, my friend. Ashara is alive. I am not japing with you."

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of Morning, the greatest knight of the century, stumbled back. Oberyn caught him so that he didn't fall on his arse, he gently lowered the man back in his seat.

"What…how…"

"I am sure that you know about Elia planning a disagreement between them so that Ashara can escape the Capitol after she became pregnant with Brandon's child?" Arthur nodded his head, "It was made possible because of my love, Ellaria."

"Ellaria?"

Oberyn sighed, he walked up to the window and stared out at the by now the darkened sea.

"None of us were welcome at the Red Keep after Brandon's imprisonment. Rhaeger was in hiding with Lyanna and you three Kingsguard. All communications in or out of the Capitol were closely observed either by Varys or by Pycelle. That old cunt is a Lannister's man through and through."

Oberyn turned back to look at Arthur, his eyes had taken to burn with intense hatred, "Elia was trapped within the keep, trying her best to keep Ashara's pregnancy a secret and get her out of that hellhole. Ellaria took it upon herself to brave the situation. She went to the Red Keep in the guise of a servant, carrying gifts from Doran for Elia, Rhaenys and Elia's supposed son. When she heard about Ashara's condition, she exchanged their places, she stayed back there and sent Ashara to Dorne as the servant that went into the keep.

After our defeat at the Trident, I came back here at Sunspear. I was shocked to find Ashara here. She told me what Elia and Ellaria concocted together and sent her away. My heart fretted for them both, but I kept my mask on for the sake of Ashara. I assured her and sent her to Starfall. I kept wishing that now that the Stag has won, he would send Elia and her household back to us. We had heard about the sacking of Kings' Landing by the Lannister cunts…still we kept hope. In the end, Jon Arryn came to us, bringing the bones of Elia and his sympathy. Ellaria was slain in the sack, along with every Dornish man and woman. We heard that the men were only slain, but the women were raped, had their throats slit and then they were burnt."

Oberyn picked up the pitcher of the wine and drank from it directly. He threw it at a wall after emptying it and started to sway on his feet. His face was contorted in pain and rage. He took deep breaths to steady himself and sat down.

"When we heard that Ned Stark had come to Dorne. I left for Starfall immediately. I went there in disguise, planned to reveal myself only to Ashara and provide any support she might have required. When I reached there, Ned Stark had already found his way to the Tower of Joy, and came to Starfall before me, carrying his sister's bones and your sword. Ashara had lost everything – her favourite brother, her love, her childhood friend. She even lost what was supposed to be Brandon's memory to her when she went into early labour and birthed a stillborn girl. She was defeated by life itself.

When I snuck into the castle of Starfall, Ned Stark has already left with his retinue. I crept towards Ashara's rooms when I heard noises of struggle. I rushed in to find that a hooded person was fighting with her. Even devastated, she was still a woman of Dorne. She kept fighting against the assassin. I ran forward and wrenched that fucker away from her. In our struggle, the unknown person slipped and fell from the balcony where we had ended up in our fight. They fell directly into the raging Torrentine. Fearing for her life, I grabbed her and a few of her possessions and ran from there. On our way out, I spread the rumour that Ashara Dayne had thrown herself off her balcony in her grief. Somebody had indeed seen a figure falling into the raging river and the rumour took hold as I whisked Ashara away to Helholt."

Arthur had his head in his hands, tears of relief flooded his face.

"How did you manage to keep her hidden? She was well known to the entirety of Westeros."

"Blood magic."

"What?"

"I took her to Essos from Helholt, directly to Qarth. There, I did some investigation and lured a warlock from the House of Undying who was temporarily banished over some dispute with his guild. I got him to perform blood magic on Ashara before I disposed of him. She now looks just as Ellaria did. Well, not completely her, but she doesn't look like the Ashara from past either – it is more as an amalgamation of the two."

Arthur kept looking at Oberyn disbelievingly. He couldn't get his head around this recent information.

"Yes, my friend. Your sister is alive, but she has taken the identity of Ellaria Sand. Only four know about her – Doran, myself, Ashara and Lord Herman Uller. Old Lord Uller had agreed with our scheme after making us promise that we will send the ones responsible for his daughter's death to the depths of Seven Hells."

Oberyn smiled at the hopeful visage of his friend. Then he snapped his fingers and said –

"Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you…we are now married."

"What?"

Poor Arthur couldn't handle any more shocks, he felt as if he was finished – physically and emotionally.

"Ah, yes. We spent some time together and in our shared griefs, we became quite close. After a few months, we were married." He raised his hand to stop Arthur from speaking, "I know what you wanted to say. But rest assured, I am truly faithful to my loving wife. I had to maintain the ruse – so whenever I visit a whorehouse, I always make the person unconscious by the usage of potions. I maintain my appearance with my wife's consent, but I never abused her trust, believe me on this. And you are an uncle, Arthur. I have four daughters with her who are as beautiful as their mother."

"I…I have nieces?"

"Yes, my friend."

Arthur got up from his seat and enveloped Oberyn within his arms. He started to sob on the man's shoulder. The guilt of his sister's untimely death, which he had been carrying for the past sixteen years, had finally left his soul.

"Thank you, Oberyn, thank you for everything you have done for her."

"It's just the things we do for love, Arthur."

Arthur straightened and went on his knees before Doran, who remained silent and kept watching the scene unfold before him.

"Forgive my behaviour, My Princes, I erred when I manhandled Prince Oberyn."

"We understand what your mind is going through as of now, Arthur. It is forgiven. But keep in mind, neither of us will take it lightly if it is to happen again."

"Of course, My Prince."

"Then please, get up, Ser Arthur."

Arthur stood back up and looked at the Martell brothers.

"What are we to do now?"

"Now, my friend, we plan. We plan before I come along with you to meet His Grace. But there are still some things you need to know, Arthur."