' Three Drops '

Happy New Year to you all!!!

I hope I can start it well with a good chapter.

I leave the judgement to you.

Best wishes again and Happy Reading!

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POV: Duncan;

On a hill about 300 feet from the camp.

About five seconds after a name was spoken...

The man in front of me had a surrendered look in his eyes that screamed despair, fear, uncertainty, and remorse.

Ned Stark, could not utter a single word in the minute that followed immediately after my statement.

The man continued to look around for fear that others had overheard our conversation.

"Fear not, Lord Stark.

No one within 200 feet of us is present at this moment. Fifty of my trusted men are personally making sure of that.

We are alone, My Lord.

And you, you have fine steel on your hands.

I, on the other hand, wear wool and velvet and am unarmed.

You have the choice to do or not to do the deed that is tormenting you at this moment... "I said to one of the most honorable men in the Seven Kingdoms.

Ned seemed possessed. I even noticed a glint in his eyes, symbolizing the beginnings of a tear.

He was less than five feet from me, a sufficient distance for a slash.

My gaze was still on his.

The blade I had given him was still pointing downward, but his right hand was firmly on the handle.

Ned looked at the blade... then back at my face, more serious than ever. The grip on his hand loosened... and the blade fell to the ground, hitting the grassy ground stained with a light frost.

Ned knelt and said with his gaze and head lowered to the ground:

"I implore you.

I beg you, Duncan of House Tallhart...

Please... Do not breathe a word of this to anyone.

I beg you to keep this secret.

I... I promised her... To my sister, the one I loved with all my heart that I would protect that baby.

Jon... Aegon, he had nothing to do with this.

I don't want that child forced to walk that path, but that's not the only reason... If Robert or any other nobleman of Westeros ever finds out about this... "I cut off the helpless man's plea.

"Jon, the North and tens of thousands more would be in danger... I know.

There is no need for you to plead with me, Lord Stark. I will never mention the matter to anyone, I swear it.

Now rise, Warden of the North. No one could hear us, but at long range, they could.

You are my Lord, and I am your vassal." I said in a gentler tone, offering the man a hand.

Ned raised his face with wet eyes... Sad eyes but with a new sparkle. A twinkle that expressed 'Hope'.

About three minutes later of thanks and waiting for a certain man to regain the dignity of a true Lord...

"Forgive me, Lord Duncan... I must be sure.

When you said that ' four ' individuals were aware of it, did you mean Lord Howlan Reed and that Targaryen handmaiden as the remaining two?" Ned.

"Ah, right... The handmaiden... Forgive me. I meant [five]... Five if the handmaiden is still alive...

Is she?" Ned lost another heartbeat but still managed to answer immediately afterward.

"As far as I know, she still should be... Me or Howlan, we've done her no harm.

She... Jinnea was a loyal supporter of House Targaryen. Very loyal to Prince Rhaegar.

For the sake of... She wanted to join the Sisters of the Silent...

Then, when we reached Sunset Stars, she headed for Sunspear. A rumor came to us, that maybe Elia and her children were still alive and hiding somewhere...

She swore to me, that if she did not find Rhaegar's heirs, she would opt for the pious path and keep the secret until the grave. I could not harm her...she chose to stand by Lyanna's side until the end.

That being said... WHO?

Who is this?" Ned.

"A very old man who still lives on the other side of the Wall.

He has similar abilities to mine... I believe he is watching us even now." As soon as I finished my sentence, I could hear a flapping of wings coming from somewhere less than 40 feet away.

"No... Not anymore.

Fear not, Ned. This one, who calls himself: [Three-Eyed Raven], is no threat. He is a bit like my master...

He likes to observe and be neutral..." Ned still looked bewildered by all this supernatural news, but still managed to nod.

"How long have you known?" Ned.

"Oh... A long time.

My Lord, please.

I swear to you on my honor and in everything I believe, that I will never lie to you. However... I will never be forced to tell you everything I know. At least not now.

If I cannot answer you, I will simply choose not to...

Is that all right with you?" I asked, interrupting Ned's next question.

Eddard took a few moments before answering:

"That's fine with me, Lord Duncan. We have an agreement.

But that won't stop me from continuing to try and ask if that's all right with you..." Ned proposed, smiling for the first time since that whole period of despair.

"Deal," I said... then continued.

"Now my Lord, it's time for the real 'conversation' to begin..."

Ned nearly lost consciousness...

With a shocked look, he asked:

"Isn't that what you wanted to talk to me about?! Is there anything else?!"

"Yes, there is. I... I would like to point out that it was you who brought up the subject of 'Jon'...

It was not my intention to bring it up today." Realizing the obvious, Eddard Stark gritted his teeth for a moment, then, losing his wits for a moment, almost shouted:

"Catelyn was right! YOU ARE... you... "Ned froze at the last breath, trying to regain his composure.

"A monster?... Yes, I can't fault either of you.

However, I am the [Monster] you need, Lord Stark...

Why do you think all these 'miracles' that fell from the heavens are raining down on the North?

A gift from the Old Gods perhaps?

No, Ned. Me and my House. The Tallhart are working hard and steady day and night to make the North more stable, prosperous, and strong than ever.

Man has made it possible.

Not prayers, the Old and New Gods... MAN."

Ned immediately lowered his head, saying:

"I beg your pardon, my Lord... I did not mean to offend you or your House. What you say is true.

It has been a trying day... "

"I understand...

I renew my offer to postpone our conversation until tomorrow if you wish." I proposed politely.

"... Yes, I accept the offer.

I thank you, my Lord."

End POV.

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POV: Ned Stark;

King's Road, about 30 miles from Moat Cailin.

Some 23 hours after an unexpected and tiresome conversation took place...

"Lord Duncan... Nice to see you again...

Well... before we start, could I...

Could I ask you to... "Luckily for Ned, he was understood.

"Of course, my Lord.

Come closer, please." The boy repeated the same miracle as last night.

A green light radiated from his hands and spread over the exhausted body of the poor man, who had not been able to sleep more than two hours the night before.

For the first time in four years, Ned argued with his faithful knight and friend Ser Haymitch.

After the tenth minute in a row that Haymitch continued to mock and taunt him with roaring laughter, Ned raised his voice. He had had enough of the man's antics... at least for today.

"Lord Stark, I have a small gift for you.

A new recipe, made by Maester Qyburn.

More powerfull than Dreamwine but with fewer side effects than Sweet Sleep. Two drops in a cup of water before going to sleep is recommended.

He christened it 'Dreams and Wishes'...

I think... Yes, I think you will need it tonight."

Ned accepted the vial without replying or answering.

Since this morning, he had abandoned any trace of pride or resolve he might have wanted to show in such cases.

The man had cursed his damned curiosity over and over again...

He was conflicted... He wanted and didn't want to know what the conversation was about...

Certainly, the sentence ['Jon's more delicate topics at the moment require your attention, my Lord.], had certainly left a deep, dark mark on him.

'This was your task, Brandon... You were to be Lord of Winterfell. YOU, not me...' Ned Stark thought for the umpteenth time, resenting a man who was currently sleeping sweetly in the crypts of House Stark.

Another thought nagged at him.

'Jeor Mormont... He is a wise man...

I should follow his example.

I'll stop Benjen from joining the Nights Watch and go in his place.

I'm used to the cold, and lately, the wildling attacks have subsided...

I could sleep there without looking back...

That way my honor and that of House Stark would remain-' A voice interrupted the man's thoughts.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" Said a boy for the second time.

"Yes! Yes, Lord Duncan... I beg your pardon. I am ready." Eddard Stark's honor was stained for the umpteenth time.

The man had shamelessly lied... another lie.

He had not felt this agitated since that moment in the Trident, where the fate of his House had been put at stake. In front of him was an army of 40,000 men, but the anxiety Eddard felt then was nothing like the anxiety he felt now.

He was facing a far more dangerous army soon...

"... Alright then...

Before we begin, I would like to make two fundamental points clear:

1) In no way would I use the topic 'you know' as a means of blackmail.

I hope that when the day 'you know who', turns sixteen, thus reaching the age of majority, you will talk to him.

2) I and House Tallhart will be loyal to you, Lord Stark.

Even if we are richer and more powerful than the Lannisters, we will never go against you or House Stark as long as you lead us.

If your son Robb were to become half the man you are today, we would swear the same loyalty to him.

House Tallhart will follow values like good judgment, honor, wisdom, and mercy. We will not forget, my Lord." Explained the boy calmly.

"Thank you, Lord Duncan...

I appreciate your words very much. I swear I will do my best to pass on all I know to Robb and guide him to the right path.

When... ...the boy turns 16, I'll talk to him and tell him the truth, I promise...

I'm sorry, what did you mean by blackmail?

Does it have anything to do with the 'request' you wanted to make?..." Ned asked partly more relaxed and tense at the same time...

"My Lord, I have seven requests to make of you....

The ' blackmail '... if we can call it that, is just a... yes...

A less than honorable method to incentivize you to be more inclined to accept my requests.... That sounds better." Said the boy shamelessly with an innocent face.

Ned felt like punching his demonic face.

'SEVEN? I was wrong... Not one, but SEVEN armies in front of me...

Old gods... Seraphine, please bless me and protect me by granting me the same gifts you offered to this monster... I implore you.' Ned thought desperately as he turned north for the umpteenth time.

The call of {The Wall } was growing stronger and more seductive...

'Another sweeter way to describe the word [Blackmail], my Lord...

Please continue... " Said Ned in an annoyed tone.

"... Mmm... [Blackmail] or [Bribe], depending on your point of view I would say. But surely, both 'less than honorable', Lord Stark.

Ahahaha!... emm... Forgive my ill-timed joke, my Lord...

I guess we'll start with the first one.

You should know, I just modified that request last night after our chat." Hundreds of drum rolls and roars of warhorns echoed through Lord Stark's mind.

The battle for {The Dawn } versus {The Long Night }, had just begun.

End POV.

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POV: A Visionary Demon;

King's Road, about 30 miles from Moat Cailin.

About two seconds after an imaginary 'bloodbath' began...

"The Moat Cailin, Lord Stark." Said the Demon pointing in the direction of the fortress less than 30 miles away.

Tomorrow, before lunchtime, the Northern army would be able to camp there.

"You want the Moat Cailin?! That's the first request?!" Fired Ned Stark in an indignant tone.

The man had not even dared, out of fear, to ask 'Which one'. What were the means of blackmail with which he wanted to threaten him?

The army? Control over the North?

'Not me or my family, my Lord.

I would have you appoint your brother Benjen, Lord of the Keep until Jon Snow turns twelve...

From that time on you must yield to him by naming him Lord of the Moat Cailin and Protector of the Neck and the Fever.

I know Benjen wishes to join to the Night's Watch soon, but that time will have to wait, Lord Stark...

And that is not all." The Demon allowed his victim time to digest the first part.

"That's not all! I... I thought it would be better for the boy to join the Guardians in the future, rather than.... 'You know.

At Wall, Jon would be safer.

Besides, I'd already discussed with my wife that if we ever had another child, the Moat Cailin would go to him... No, let's leave it for now...

I want to know the second part first." Replied the victim about to sell his soul.

"No... I have other plans for Jon, Lord Stark.

If you follow my 'Guidelines', Moat Cailin will be the safest place for him... I want to turn it into a fortress more impregnable than Harrenhall was in its infancy.

And to do that will require manpower and resources...

Means and men, which I'm afraid will have to come from House Stark, my lord... "...the demon.

"... How much are we talking about?" Anxiously asked the not-so-poor Northern Lord... That prolonged pause still made him anxious.

Ned was already planning to have some of Moat Cailin's towers restored, now that he could afford it.

But the Tallhart family had, like it was nothing, pulled out 900,000 gold dragons to build roads.

The man wisely braced himself for the mention of such a sum.

"Um... about 5,000,000 golden dragons..." Said the greedy demon.

"FIVE MILLION?!!!... ARE YOU KIDDING?!

B-but... With that kind of money...

I WOULD BUILD... phew...

With that kind of money, I would build at least THREE [Northern Networks] and as many fortresses [Harrenhal] from scratch.

What would be the point of that much money?!" The likely future Lord-indebted to the hilt-asked in a highly indignant and desperate tone.

"Yes, I admit it is no small sum...

Here, my Lord. I have prepared an expense list...

You will find an estimate of all the necessary costs to be incurred.

This is only for the good of the North and the good of Jon, my Lord." Said the demon, handing a piece of paper to the poor blackmailed victim.

Ned grabbed the paper with little politeness. The man wanted to see what 'extravagances' and 'revelry' the remorseless monster had written.

The Protector of the North scrutinized the list for a good couple of minutes in total silence.

"... I... I am clear on the expenses of the fortress...

The works of House Manderly, Mormont, Gauntelgrym, and the Mountain Clans...

You want me to build and restore all ten towers... plus ten additional ones... the two walls... catapults... the two steel gates... the larder plus 'Icehouse'... Scorpions... but... here I count at most 5 or 600,000 gold dragons! Where are the other expenses?!!!" The victim.

"Turn the paper over, my Lord." The poor man did as suggested and countless entries and zeros appeared there.

After five minutes more, Ned shot up with indignation:

"Two hundred and fifty?!!! 250,000 diggers and workers?! For two years of work?

And why should I pay House Reed over 700,000 gold dragons?!

But more importantly, what the hell is the point of 40 watchtowers along with the River Fever?!" This time Ned's tone, conveyed pure indignation if not offense. The man seemed offended in his pride as if he had been taunted and accused of being an idiot or a chicken to be easily plucked...

"My Lord... There is no need to take it personally.

I assure you that every expense is well justified, let me explain!" Said the Demon stepping back in front of the man almost a foot taller than him.

"Let's hear it, 'Lord Duncan'... I'm really curious.

I expect that every coin mentioned on the back of this paper is well justified.

Or I'm afraid... you won't get away with a simple, [No Offense, my Lord]...

My father always taught me to treat thieves and moneylenders fairly." Said the victim, raising his head for the first time.

"Of course, Lord Stark...

If you could please, just for a moment, stop advancing with this murderous aura... Yes perfect, thank you.

Cough, coff... So:

As you well know, Lord Stark, the Moat Cailin has always been, for thousands of years, the key to the defense of the North from any Southern armies attempting to march into our... the lands under House Stark's rule.

Many an Andal army has been broken in the marshes, poisoned arrows of the Crannogmen, Lion Lizards, disease and of course the Moat Cailin...

The pasture has an impassable defense. The only way in is the King's road. A narrow path capable of passing a maximum of four men at a time. Target practice for the archers and a path of death and pain for the poor sheep sent to slaughter...

Now, Moat Cailin's only weak points are the back of the fortress and the River Fever...

But that river is well protected, can be the key to something much bigger than just defending the pasting...

A sea route, my Lord. The natural bottleneck that separates the North from the other six kingdoms can be both a means to Gold coffers, trade pressure, political pressure, and of course naval defense.

Think about it, my Lord...

If we could stretch that river another 60 miles, the continent would be cut in half in its entirety.

If we widened the riverbanks and dug at least sixty feet deep on the east side of Moat Cailin, we'd have another road...

A road made of water but more prosperous and safer than the entire Northern Network.

The Lords of the Rivers, of the Westlands, of the Reach, Dorne, even the Iron Islands... They will all beg you to use that route to reach, White Harbor, Seagull City, King's Landing, and especially Essos.

I assure you, if the work is done properly, the Lord of Moat Cailin will pocket a minimum of 600 golden dragons per day in customs duty alone... A gold mine, My Lord.

All the northern lords will also benefit by increasing their trade. You can cross the River Fever to White Harbor, and from there all along with the White Knife to two-thirds of the North... Ships and boats move faster than horses, My Lord.

The danger is that by that time everyone and I mean EVERYONE... will set their sights on Moat Cailin.

He who owns that fortress will own a Castle that generates more gold than Casterly Rock...

One must not underestimate the greed of man, my Lord. Especially Andalus and foreign greed.

Excessive defensive measures are not so exaggerated when you think about it...

Moat Cailin will have to have a full 360° defense...

The expenses of House Reed serve to modify the flora and fauna on the south side of Moat Cailin... You will have to ensure that even if by some miracle an army ever appears to attack the back of the fortress, your enemies will have to cross at least another 3,000 feet of puddles, branches, and sharp roots and all the poisonous beasts that will live in their flora and fauna. For the entire length of the river, it will have to be the same.

Only House Reed has control over the Crannogmen people.

Only they will be able to do the job...

I don't think I need to mention the 250,000 diggers and laborers... let alone the 40 watchtowers along the river.

If any army ever gets the crazy, suicidal idea to invade the North from the South. or harm 'Lord Snow'... he must make mental preparations to pay a minimum price of 40 men for every Northern soldier that defends him...

A defense worthy of the Bloody Gate in the Vale, My Lord, you must admit.

House Tallhart cannot take credit for this project, my Lord...

All the lords of the North should know that Lord Eddard of House Stark has invested much gold. All for the welfare and defense of the North.

House Stark, not House Tallhart..." He finished, the demon transformed for a moment into a wise, caring, and loyal subject advisor in the service of House Stark.

Ned Stark remained silent for over two minutes.

Two minutes of total silence...

The man seemed transported to another world as if his body was there, but his mind was elsewhere.

Then Ned spoke and said:

"If I work on this project... as well as helping the North... Jon... he..." The guardian angel finished his protégé's sentence.

"No one... and I mean NO ONE, will be able to harm Jon.

He will be protected by the safest fortress in Westeros, my Lord, I swear to you.

Your promise would be kept, from here, until the end of his days..." The Angel.

"... How many men-at-arms would it take?" Ned.

"... At least three thousand to constantly patrol both the Moat and the forty forts. About 1,000 men minimum for the fortress and another 50 for each tower along the river.

But... I'd recommend doubling that figure for safety." Duncan.

"Six thousand?... Where am I supposed to get that? I have a total of seven thousand men, in direct service to House Stark... The crown will not allow me to double my numbers. The request would be taken as a declaration of war." Explained Ned Stark calmly, reasoning.

"The men are there, my Lord... They are not quite Stark, but they will be true to their name... Well to be precise, to the name 'Snow'." Duncan.

"You're thinking of the Mountain Clans?...

I can't convince them to abandon their lands altogether. It'll be five thousand fighters at most among all the Clans." Ned.

"Not all the Clans, but only a portion of them... Possibly the Clans with the least hatred for the Wildlings...

I will help you find others, my lord. I also plan to summon men with the blood of the First Men in their Southern veins." Duncan.

"Why the Wildlings?... Wait what do you mean by first men of the South?!

You're not talking about the Valley Clans?!" Ned.

"Yes, my Lord. The Clan of Black Ears, Burned Men, Painted Dog, Moon Brothers, Sons of the Tree... All ten of them. Together, that will be another 3,000 fierce warriors...

I will recruit them myself, trust me, my lord." Duncan.

"But they... They are savage fools, Lord Duncan... Jon Arryn tried for years to negotiate with them... he wasn't very successful." Ned replied.

"I am confident we will succeed. I'm not Jon Arryn, Lord Stark... If your brother Benjen and your 'son' Jon show them respect and strength, breaking bread with them, worshipping the Old Gods, and even offering prosperity to those people neglected for centuries in those barren mountains... They will follow them to the end, even if they have to suffer the pains of the Seven Hells...

The Crown will not breathe a word about it... On the contrary, they will praise you for solving the 'Plague of the dreaded Barbarian raiders of the Valley'. Ahaha." Duncan.

"... No... You are not Jon Arryn...

Let me tell you, Lord Duncan. Your mind is more devilish than I could ever imagine...

May the Old Gods protect the poor wretches who will be afflicted by your plots... You are certainly worthy of the name you bear, Bloody Snow." Said Ned, more as an affirmation than an insult or compliment.

"No argument there, my lord.

I am kind, fair, and hospitable to friends, but I have no mercy for those who dare choose to be my Enemies...

You may also call me 'Monster' if you wish... But always remember that I am the 'Monster' the North needs." Bloody Snow.

"... Aye. Only one problem left...

I don't have that much gold. Not even that if the trades were to double in the next two years, I could raise that kind of money. Not without selling all of Winterfell and Wintetown..." Said Ned.

"How much can you raise without aggravating the stability of House Stark too much?" Bloody Snow.

"... Half. Half if I can convince Ser Haymitch to stop drinking. Pfff... " For the first time in the evening, Ned tried to make a joke. The air was beginning to lighten and a bond of mutual trust was beginning to forge between the two.

"... We cannot lend you such a sum at present, my Lord... My House still owes a debt to the House of Lannister. Besides... we have spent a very considerable sum on the Silk Road project...

But there is someone... or rather, an 'institution' to borrow money from. I had already anticipated such a possibility..." Duncan.

"I don't want to go into debt to the Iron Bank if that's what you're thinking... " Ned.

"Not the Iron Bank, my lord... but the Bank of Never Winter." Duncan.

"Bank of Never Winter? WAIT, NEVER WINTER? The Never Winter project is a bank?!?!!

When did you build a bank?! "A distraught Ned asked.

"I... I thought Lady Dustin had already mentioned it to you a few weeks ago along with the invitation to her wedding...

She... She will be opening her bank during the celebration of her wedding to Lord Jorah..." Duncan.

"WHAT?! L-Lady Dustin is going to own a bank?!" Ned.

"Not exactly... She's gonna be the senior partner and CEO of the bank... mmm...Yeah, she owns it.

I've already told her about this project... emm... My Lord Stark.

Lady Dustin will always be happy to offer soft loans to all the people of the North... " Duncan.

"But?" Ned held his breath.

"But... she ' wishes ' that you, when you get the chance, go to her in person to ask for the loan... " Duncan.

"... What trap are you leading me into, O my faithful vassal? Lady Dustin will never give me a loan. Guaranteed.

If I'm lucky, she'll simply slam the door in my face and laugh with gusto!" Replied Ned wisely.

"No... I don't think she'd go that far, my Lord... Mmm if possible, be sure to give her a warm congratulatory wish... It would also be a case of protecting Lord Jorah carefully and steadfastly during this military companion... If Jorah should ever fall in the field...

No, he will not fall.

I will protect him with my life if necessary... I swear it." Ned remained silent, contemplating the matter carefully.

He too, now that he knew that the House of Dustin, was more powerful and influential than expected, feared for Lord Jorah's fate. Barrowton's golden ax would fall on both House Tallhart and House Stark...

"All right... I will. I'll plead with Lady Dustin if I have to... "Ned Stark said.

"Well, my Lord! Glad to have concluded the most sensitive clause with you." Said the boy cheerfully.

"Are we done then?... the works of Moat Cailin, Jon Lord, Benjen Castellan, Mountain Clan, Moon Clan, and the loan... That makes six requests... What is the seventh?" Ned asked curiously.

"... Emm... my Lord... Those requests were all part of one bigger request... One of seven, my Lord... The first request was the [Moat Cailin Project]... "Ned slumped to the side. He was urgently looking for a foothold in a kissing bowl less than two feet away.

The man fell over, spilling red-hot embers onto the ground.

"My Lord!!!".

End POV.

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POV: A concerned father.

In the vicinity of the Stark camp.

About thirty minutes after a minor incident occurred...

Lord Helman ran nearly a full mile...

A Frost Blades had alerted him to the small fire involving Lord Stark and his son during a conversation between them.

Helman was more worried than ever. He knew his son's intentions... He knew of the 'Seven Favours' he intended to demand from that brash, reckless boy he had as his heir.

Had it not been for Maester Qyburn's help, Helman would not have slept a wink the entire march to Lannisport.

Now that, in all likelihood, Lord Stark and Bloody Snow had had a bit of a scuffle... at least that was the rumor, Lord Helman decided to intervene himself.

He was going to beg his Lord Protector on his knees, begging him to forgive his rebellious and uncontrollable son.

Helman turning quickly for a tent, met his very target.

"Lord Stark! My lord..." Helman said, catching his breath.

"Lord Helman... A pleasure to meet you, my lord...

Are you all right?" Ned asked in a distressed but still concerned tone.

"Yes, my Lord! I... well, word had come to me of a certain ' incident'... I came to see if you and my son were... Yes, I mean is everything all right?" Helman.

"Ah, that... Don't worry, Lord Helman... It's nothing serious. It's my fault.

I stupidly... tripped... yes, tripped over a brazier at my side. The flames were extinguished almost immediately. Luckily, the ground was damp. No injuries and no harm done, my Lord." Ned.

"Phew... Glad to hear it, Lord Stark... emm... if I may ask, my lord.

You and my son... well...

Did you have any friction during your talk?" Helman.

"... no, my Lord, fear not...

Your son and I, we had a... a pleasant conversation... The conversation was full of ideas and insights.

We rambled on for so long, there wasn't enough time.

During this march to Lannisport... we decided, by mutual agreement, to have six more...

Six more spread out over the twenty days of the journey ahead of us... Yes, we will..." Lord Stark.

"I see... Forgive me for asking, my Lord...

I have a similar bottle in my tent. The one you are holding in your hand, is it by any chance essence of ''Dreams and Desires''? " Helman asked curiously.

"Emm... Yes, my Lord... A kind gift from your son Duncan.

I was just about to lie down in bed...

Do you use it too?" Ned.

"I do...

I've been having serious insomnia problems lately.

That vial helps me greatly, Lord Stark..." Helman.

"I see... By any chance could you tell me-" Eddard was anticipated.

"Three drops, my Lord."