Chapter 23

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Darken Rahl.

When I heard the news of Robert Baratheon's desire to make his old friend Eddard Stark his Hand, I knew it was time for me to visit the Seven Kingdoms in person. And I wanted to diversify my everyday life somehow. I'm tired of reading reports and receiving petitions on trivial matters. Anyone can do it.

So I appointed Ocris as temporary Hand and left with John, Rhys, Boros, Nyssa and Kinvara for the North. Belvas caught up with me in the harbour and insisted that he should come with us, too, just in case. I didn't really care. There would be no serious danger for me in the North. Besides, our three dragons would be nearby in the mountains or near the coast. And half a dozen Bronn would join us in White Harbour.

I sailed incognito, under the name of Lord Darke, the legend was simple enough. I am one of the first associates of myself and also a dragonrider. Still, no one in Westeros knows all the names of my Dragonlords, not even Varys. I keep all his "birds" under control and leak him the necessary information in a dosed and in such a way as I need.

We also brought two dozen servants and gifts. Lots of gifts.

Among which there were interesting and necessary items for women and young maidens, as well as for the harsh men of the North.

The journey to White Harbour took only four days. We flew on all sails, besides I helped the ship with magic, reducing its weight and tailwind. It wasn't difficult. Then we stayed there for a day and rested a bit, hired some wagons for gifts, took Lieutenant Bronn and his staff with us, and left for Winterfell the next day.

The North was the extreme northern region of the Seven Kingdoms, it was also the largest and harshest land in Westeros. But it was also the most sparsely populated. Even the wretched Iron Islands had twice as many inhabitants. Its borders were delineated by the Wall to the North and the Isthmus to the South. There were frequent snowfalls and rains, and even more frequent winds that could kill a Southerner from Dorne or the Spaceland. Even for the small children born here, however, this breeze was no big deal. The First Men who kept their faith in the Old Gods. The only region that fought off the Andals and drove them south. The rulers of this region now hold the titles of Guardian of the North, though they were once Kings of the North, the last free King Stark bowing his head and knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Given the balance of power and the character of the Valyrians he acted wisely and rationally.

It is often said that the North is larger than the territories of the rest of the kingdoms of Westeros, though this is not true. Nevertheless, it is very large, but sparsely populated. In principle, anyone can come to a lord and ask for land to cultivate, and he will give it. But farming in these parts is a rather thankless job. And you can't get the title of lord here for money or cultivation of land, only by military service. That's what I like about the Northmen. Sometimes they remind me of the D'Harans. The Valyrians are not far behind, either. I think if you mix the two proud peoples together, you'll get the true D'Harans.

Dream on, dream on.

I've been missing the old world a little too much lately.

From a purely aesthetic point of view, the North could not boast of marvellous architecture or any innovations. During my short journey to the regional capital, I got the impression that winter had frozen time itself here. The shabby peasant huts that were pressed so close together like fused iron were devoid of anything special. It's silly to complain about it, of course, but it hurt my eyes. On a couple of occasions we encountered carriages and petty lords, and they also lacked anything refined in their manners or attire. They were not greeting guests, though. At Blackwater Castle, which belonged to the Slaiths, we boarded the rooks and travelled upriver to Winterfell. It was only a couple of dozen miles before we landed again and followed the road. It took us eight days to get from White Harbour to Winterfell. We weren't in much of a hurry, because we didn't need to chase anyone, Robert was just leaving King's Landing. The fat hog had decided to take his entire retinue, royal guards, courtiers, and Lannister men, not counting the servants. If you counted the whole lot, they'd probably outnumber the Starks' men under arms at their ancestral castle.

By the way, I was much more impressed with Winterfell than King's Landing, though I've never been there. But I know very well how things are there. It was more beautiful, more powerful, and had a much richer history. According to legend, this castle was built by Brandon the Builder himself thousands of years ago. It stands on the hills, and Winterfell was probably not designed as a single building, or rather it was not built all at once. There were different buildings above and below the Donjon. Maesters have come to the same conclusion of late. It was surrounded by a double wall, between which - there was a moat. Both walls were built of grey granite. The inner wall is more ancient at thirty metres high, while the outer wall is only 24 metres high. To top it all off, it was built on hot ponds whose water flows through pipes inside the castle walls, so even in winter it is warm and the greenhouses produce fruit.

We weren't let in right away.

John spoke as the head of our group. Immediately he announced the names of all those who had arrived and his purpose of the visit as the main one. We are his friends who decided to visit the North as guests. He introduced himself as Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's illegitimate son. He wasn't laughed at, though they didn't believe his words to the end. The locals knew that little Jon had gone missing during Stark's journey to the Vale of Arryn and was presumed dead. But no body was ever found. And now a young man in Valyrian armour and two swords, which they had not yet seen, with his retinue and possessions was announced to have arrived at their lord's house. So we had to wait a little while for someone of more weighty figures to come down to us.

We did not wait long. A man of thirty-five came out to us, with an elongated face, dark hair and those familiar grey eyes. He had a short beard that was already streaked with grey. His gaze was firm, but also very concerned and even somewhat confused. And one could understand him. His nephew, who to everyone was his bastard, was alive and well and now he was looking at John's smiling face and his eyebrows were rising.

- Hello Lord Stark. - bowed to him as a sign of respect.

It was the same thing we did, only I didn't do it with much affection. Conspiracy is good and fun, but I'm still the Emperor, and he's just a Guardian of one of the regions of the Seven Kingdoms.

- John? Is that really you? - He came closer and put his hands on his face, twisting it from side to side.

Even I, a pragmatist and a person who could kill a baby, was a little moved by this picture. Rhys was grinning so big that I was afraid he'd tear his face off. Bronn just grinned and continued to stare at Winterfell's South Gate. Nyssa didn't care; she took a cold but assessing look at all of Stark's men who'd come out with him, including himself, and came to her own conclusions about how dangerous they were to me and how to kill them quickly. Bros and Belvas didn't care about that somehow, they were just guarding me. Kinvara smiled politely and crouched down in a curtsy when he turned his attention to us.

- Are these your friends? - Stark asked.

- Yes. Some of my soldiers, Lady Kinvara is the High Priestess of WGlor of Volantis, and Lord Rhys and Lord Darke are my friends and dragon brothers.

- Dragon brothers? - Eddard interjected. - What does that mean?

- My lord, are you Rhys Firestorm, if I understand you correctly? - asked a man I recognised as the local weapons master.

- Yes, I am. - My friend nodded with a familiar smile. - I am the dragon master of His Majesty Darken Rahl the First of my name. I am also the general of the Dragon Corps. It is a pleasure to meet you sires.

A wave of whispers travelled through the ranks of the northerners. Most of them immediately realised what was before them. After all, Rhys had become a much less interesting figure than I was, but no less famous. Along with the names of my other cronies Miriam, Quentin Darstein, Daario Naharis, Drogo, and Admiral Mathis. He became famous in Westeros as a bloody general, which is the most fearless general in my army and quite effective at putting down rebellions. And there were a bunch of little facts and incidents where he became famous. So Stark, I think, also has a brief squeeze from his maester on him.

- Master of Dragons. - Ned muttered. - It is a pleasure to welcome you to Winterfell. May I ask what brings you here?

- Jon missed the North and decided to visit you, but I was bored, so I tagged along, taking Darke with me. We've heard a lot about you Lord Stark, so we were just as interested in meeting you and visiting the place where Jon grew up for the first ten years of his life.

- Well, then, welcome to our land. Be our guests. Ser Rodrik, please take care of our guests. - and then turned to Rhys. - I hope you'll forgive me for leaving you with John. I have much to talk to him about.

- Of course we understand, Lord Stark. Family reunions are sacred.

After that, we were escorted to the Guest House, where all Stark guests stay.

Weyoun Poole, the Stark steward who replaced Cassel, helped us settle into the house and treated our group with true honour.

We took our personal belongings and distributed them to our rooms. I was in my Valyrian steel armour and sword, but I decided to take it off and walk around in my more familiar robes and with my sword at my side. Boros and Belvas also had their armour with them, but it was hidden so as not to give away their identity as bodyguards of the Emperor. After all, here they are like my guards, the "common lord's" guards.

A little later we went through the bread and salt, the ritual of accepting us as guests of the host of this castle.

And in the evening we were all welcomed as guests in the Great Wormhole, the traditional place, as John said, where feasts are always held.

There we were introduced to the entire Stark family: Catelyn Stark (maiden name Tully), Robb (eldest son and heir), Brandon, Rickon, and two daughters, Sansa and Arya. Almost all of them except Arya looked like their mother, nothing Stark. Jon took far more from this line of kin than Eddard's legitimate children. That's funny!

By the way, Lady Catelyn squinted disapprovingly at Jon, who easily ignored her attitude. He chatted happily with "father", and his siblings. True, little Rickon fearfully moved away from Jon closer to his mother, and Sansa, the eldest Stark daughter, also tried to copy her mother and ignored Jon.

That said, she accepted Jon's gift that he brought for them. Eddard got a Valyrian dagger, as did Robb. I didn't make them specifically for gifts. They were Jon's personal trophies, what he'd taken during his campaign on the Summer Isles. Bran, my apprentice gave Bran a thoroughbred horse fit for a knight, and a couple of books. He gave Arya a few books and a sword of Valyrian steel, forged by the masters of Quokhor, a small and narrow "stiletto" that is more for beauty than for action. By the way, Lady Caitlin was not satisfied with it and said that "a lady is not fit to walk with a weapon". Truly the little "lady" herself was pleased with the gift. Little Rickon was given a pony, which he enjoyed for the rest of the evening. And the Lady of Winterfell was presented with several pieces of jewellery that had been handmade by the masters of Qarth, and expensive fine dresses from Pentos and Lys.

This is also where we met Euron Greyjoy's nephew and Baelon's son Theon.

A pitiful sight, to be honest. I haven't met his father personally, but I know for a fact that he is a proud and truly honourable man. His uncle surpassed the last generation of Greyjoys and gained fame around the world, but on a smaller scale than he might have if not for me. And this little slimeball makes one appearance as if he were a prince and should be bowed to. I think he's also unhappy he didn't get a present. And when we sat down at the table, we heard a phrase addressed to John:

- How did a mere bastard rise so high and get such things?

Lord Stark snorted disapprovingly at Theon and was about to say something, but Jon beat him to it and replied with a smile:

- I have earned it by serving Master Rahl faithfully. I also get my trophies and money not at the expense of those I live with, but with blood and steel. In the Iron Islands, they call it "the iron price." Really, you must have forgotten that here. Even the clothes and dagger you carry are gifts from House Stark, not your own merit or even savings. This begs the question, are you really a Greyjoy or have you already become a 'man of green meadows'?

Theon blushed with anger and clenched his fists, but said and did nothing. Just as I thought, he's just a boy who's nothing. He's nothing!

- So you're just a mercenary, John? - Sansa snorted disapprovingly. - You're a far cry from a knight.

- Sansa! - Ned shouted.

There's something wrong with that girl's discipline. If she were my subject, she'd get her own for talking to my apprentice like that. But then I wouldn't have to do anything, John would have punished her himself. I can see it in John's gaze, but he knows how to keep his face, and does nothing to show his real desire for her.

- What do I care about knights? - John shrugged nonchalantly. - Knights are just a rank, as a rule. I am not a mercenary, but His Majesty's loyal man, his apprentice and dragon rider. I am a Dragon Lord! I have my own property, money, servants, troop and separately a legion that I govern. I have a vote in the Council. I have seen the world and have my own opinions on many things. If I were Lord Eddard's legitimate son, I wouldn't have achieved all this. So, I'm grateful to fate that I was born "Lord Eddard's bastard". It's the best thing that ever happened to me in Westeros.

Well done, my boy.

The awkward silence was broken by Ned Stark.

- I'm glad you've reached such heights. I'm proud of you, Jon. What is your dragon's name? And where is he now?

- The Grey Knight. He's with us now, as are Reese's and Darke's dragons. In the mountains. They're there to avoid scaring the locals, and there they'll find food and stay out of the way.

- I'd like to see some dragons. - Brann spoke for all the Stark children.

- They can be dangerous. - said the Tully hen.

- They are dangerous, Lady Stark. - I nodded. That's why they're dragons. They are powerful and dangerous to the enemy. If they're not attacked here, they'll keep quiet. To their friends, they are no threat. Therefore, if you wish, we will introduce Jon's dragon to you tomorrow morning.

Stark frowned, considering something, and nodded in agreement.

- I wouldn't mind seeing him myself. Only...

- I give you my word, he won't hurt anyone if they don't hurt him. - assured his "son."

- Then so be it. Hey! Weyoun! Order more beer to be served at last.

The festivities, though not comparable to my feasts, were nevertheless quite warm and enchanting. The change of scenery and people appealed to me.

Already close to midnight I went outside for fresh air. On the way I met maids who blushed and hid their eyes, little children who hid behind corners with fear, but nevertheless stuck out their heads to look at the wanderer, warriors of the Northmen who looked at me with interest and even with some challenge, comparing me and myself.

Eventually I came to the Bogoroscha, where I sat for a while, listening to the sounds of nature. The moon illuminated the area and everything was perfectly visible, even the bottom of the small pond in front of me.

I was ready to go back to the feast an hour after my arrival, but I realised that I was being watched. There was a raven, or rather a three-eyed black raven, sitting on the branch of a hardwood tree, which was constantly cawing and sending various impulses of power into my head.

- A three-eyed raven. If you want to communicate with me, I don't mind, but you don't have to use mind magic or whatever you call it. - I told him and touched the face that was carved on the crown of the tree.

The next moment I was no longer in Winterfell, or even in the North of the Seven Kingdoms, but rather beyond the Wall. Though it was a place I'd never seen before.

An old man stood before me, partially grown from the roots of the trees. He was dressed in black, and beside him were several representatives of the people called "children of the forest," if I am not mistaken about them.

- Hello, wanderer between worlds. Darken Rahl. I've been waiting to meet you.

- I knew it. In Essos, there were only minor headaches at times. The distance was too great, and there were hardly any Chardrevs left there, unless you counted East Essos. It wasn't until I built my capital city that I was able to understand what those headaches were related to.

- I'm sorry. But your mind is different from the young men I've spoken to here. Still, I'm glad you're here.

- Again, but then again, so am I. So let's get straight to the point, we're both very busy people and we both realise that you didn't call me here out of idle curiosity.

- Yes," the old man nodded. - Young Stark. Brandon Stark is not for you. You've already realised that the boy has incredible power. He is to become the new Three-Eyed Raven, but I also know that you want to take him for yourself.

- That's right, I can't leave the boy to languish in the North as the "Knight of the North" or the "Kingsguard" he longs to be. It hurts my soul as a wizard. And as a ruler who can put such talents to better use.

- The Old Gods want him to succeed me. Leave him.

How naive.

- Do you really think I'm going to give up so easily?

- No. But I can't give up either. I need him. I need him to bring down the Night King.

- I agree. And I will use him for that purpose as well.

- Well... I spoke to you as one who "knows" these secrets that other people don't want to know. But I'll have to remember my old life.

- Which one? - I smiled.

- Politics! You leave Brandon alone and let him become what he should be.....

- And what do I get in return?

- I won't let the Starks know who you are and your plans... roughly.

- Ha-ha-ha-ha. - he's a funny little man. - That's funny, Brinden Rivers. You seem to have withered away from bluffing and bargaining. Of course you won't tell the Starks about me. You won't even find them mistrusting me or "dreaming dreams." Firstly, your powers are weakening every day as Brandon grows stronger. I realised that, even if it took me a while. And secondly, it will upset the balance between the "gods" of this world. You can't go against everyone for the sake of a boy who is exactly the "backup" to save the people of this world. Don't be stupid! And don't try to make a fool of yourself or me. It offends me.

- Then... tell me, what do you want? My alternative.

- I'll give you the boy, and I'll even help you plot his journey to you in a way that benefits us both, with no real risk to him. But you'll play for me. You won't let Brandon go far enough into the past to change it, you won't let him go into the past that relates directly to me so as not to hurt me. Even though I know how to counteract his gift. But I don't want to take any unnecessary risks. I could use the Valyrian artefacts I've found for other things. And besides, he won't know the true situation south of the Wall.

- You'll hurt the Starks. - he said in a neutral voice. Or rather, he was stating the fact that it would happen.

- Not necessarily. The future is uncertain. You must realise that yourself. There are different paths, different forks, and so many things can go wrong. Although they will all end up working out the way I want them to. But it's better if you and I avoid unnecessary sacrifices. Wouldn't it?

- Yes, it will be. - He nodded. - We made a deal.

- We did! - I confirmed. - Now let's discuss the details of our co-operation and Brandon's "recruitment" to your receivers....

To be continued...