Believe, Achieve, Succeed

*Chapter 1*: Chapter 1

Chapter One

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

It has always been bad luck on tinkering with unknown magic. Every respectful wizard and witch knows that. That's also the reason as to why there are so very few Unspeakables and lesser recruits coming in every year. Pushing the boundaries of the unknown is always risky even at the best of times and the accidents formed when it is done claimed a lot of unlucky souls from the Department of Myteries. Still it is their duty to learn more about magic, its pros and cons and distribute the knowledge they acquire to the general public for the good of all without recognition or thanks, all because of the shady mystery that shadowed the department.

Surprisingly it is that shadow looming over them that protects the others also from themselves. Many things studied in the Department of Mysteries aren't exactly registered as "safe" or sometimes even "legal". It took a great effort on all its members that the more sensitive issues of their work not wander around unknowing and illiterate hands. Accidents might happen to them that only the Unspeakables try to avoid themselves.

For Alya Black, she can only curse as she found herself looking down at the sand which she is currently laying face-front first at. The taste of sand lingered in her mouth and she made a mental note not to drink any water as she stood up dusting the robe covering her t-shirt inside and skirt that fell only above her knees as she looked around on the barren desert, the heat of the sun bearing down on her marring the slightly pale skin.

Already a thunderous scowl is forming in her face at her unlucky predicament. She had seen accidents happen before with her being an Unspeakable on their line of work. However she had been on the receiving end of any accidents….ever.

Alya Black, current Heiress of the Most Noble and Prestigious House of Black after Sirius Black, her biological father passed away and former Harry Potter in disguise thanks to the machinations of the Great Albus Dumbledore who had went to extreme ends on keeping her safe by Obliviating the circumstances that led to her making and even her as a baby by using Transfiguration of the Highest order to temporarily change her gender to a male to fool everyone and prepare her for the upcoming demand of the prophecy.

Does that make the old man evil in her eyes? No it doesn't. In fact Albus Brian Dumbledore (his original name) have been Alya's father, mother and grandfather figure all rolled up in one. When the Potters died with Voldemort murdering them and her unknowingly vanquishing him as a baby, he had taken her in and spirited her away as transfigured Harry Potter to a tropical island in Southeast Asia. There he had raised her like a child of his own, preparing her for her future while at the same time assigning Sir Thomas Colville, one of England's knights that is a member of the Order of the Phoenix and is tasked on guarding the Prime Minister of England as her personal guard and watcher when Dumbledore isn't present thanks to his responsibilities as leaders on different positions.

She had grown up as Harry Potter knowing that he is a wizard and living a simple life with the inhabitants of the island with Thomas and Dumbledore. All sense of superiority never came close to his life under the guiding hand of two adults. Honor and Ethics Thomas nailed permanently into Alya's mind while Dumbledore educated her with magic, logic and cunning to support herself on the long run for her future.

Alya would never change it for the world. She grew up loving the people caring for her and she still remembered fondly the nights when she's younger where she would sit at the old headmaster's lap. Of course at the right age she had finally been brought to Hogwarts as per tradition as Harry Potter. Everyone worshipped her like a king then believing in her cushy lifestyle and royal palaces adopting her. She had been sorted into Slytherin and that's where her adventures in life that headed to the prophecy about her to fulfill.

The long is road and harsh with many loved ones lost along the way with the lessons on life learned. Thankfully with the education that Dumbledore gave her made her successful on stamping down majority of the Pureblood dogma that ruled over the house of snakes along the way, especially since she gained Malfoy's loyalty when she saved him twice. One is when the idiot ponce tried finding the Chamber of Secrets and second when he insulted a Hippogriff that almost tore off his arm. With his support, the rest of Slytherin house did not take long to fall in at her side and led to the Dark Lord having fewer supporters when he began his campaign once more when Dumbledore is murdered by Snape at his sleep.

Alya paid them back in full of course, Voldemort and Snape. Rallying Great Britain at her side being the Boy-Who-Lived and with the financial and full support of the old families at her side, the war is successful and drove Voldemort's forces back easily, especially when Prime Minister Bones got elected and started cracking down hard on Voldie's recruits with the help of squads from the Muggle Prime Minister which had been allocated to help with the war. Even the Dark Lord in all his might can't fight an entire country on his own.

Fueled by desperation on defeat after defeat, the Dark Lord eventually set his fights on the only place that he could take refuge fully to recuperate his strength, Hogwarts; Alya's trap for him without him knowing, intentionally making him desperate enough to go there. When the Dark Lord sacked the empty castle (which had been evacuated before), the trap eventually sprang.

Statues which had remained stationary for centuries sprang to life impaling Death Eaters left and right, the castle itself went against Voldemore resulting too many accidents happening all around the place resulting too many deaths on his . When the forces of the Ministry and the Parliament finally arrived on sight, all that remained of the Dark Lord's forces is himself and a few measley Death Eaters to stubborn to die. There everyone learned that even a Dark Lord who cheats Death isn't immune to a hundred different spells shot at him altogether. It was Alya's magic however that made the difference.

Normally the bald-snake face would be on spirit form once again thanks to his anchors but blood magic from Alya that she learned thanks to one of the tomes of the old houses once and for all stomped Voldemort as his soul is caged on his burning body forever and ever that he would never be able to get out of it again.

Only then did Dumbledore's machinations remove itself during the prophecy fulfilled leaving all parties affected by the old man's actions on erasing Alya's original appearance void, including Alya. Surprisingly Alya, took the sudden change of her gender well. She is planning after all to retire and escape public scrutiny, and being Harry Potter no longer is the perfect alibi she had and Dumbledore raising her as Harry Potter safeguarded her and prepared her for the hard road ahead which he had to walk being the prophesied savior. So no, she's not angry with the old man though if she's honest, she's a little miffed. He did it for the Greater Good, as he used to say and it certainly hel[ed her. Alya shivered at the thought of entering Hogwarts all naïve and unwitting as a baby seal on land.

So now here she is working on the more potent forms of Blood Magic searching for an easier way of transportation when during the ritual, one of her subordinates sneezed and caused her to arrive here.

Speaking of that, where is she currently?

Piercing green eyes wandered over the area. It is all obviously the desert and the witch first expression is that maybe she is somewhere on Africa judging with no signs of an Oasis anywhere whatsoever. If she's unlucky she's somewhere in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Oh she's going to go Hercules on her subordinate once she got her hands on him.

Willing her magic to her, Alya felt the familiar sensation of magic compressing for apparition followed by the squeezed feeling inside a tube, the only sign that apparating is successful only to open her eyes and found herself standing on the same spot. Green eyes blinked only in confusion before Alya closed it once more repeating the same process only for the result to…remain the same.

"What the hell is going on?" Alya thought murderously as she tried once…twice…thrice, resulting into the familiar cracking sound echoing in the wilderness with the raven-haired girl remaining at the same spot which she is standing, appearing and disappearing repeatedly.

"What's going on?!" the black heiress finally yelled indignantly, stamping her foot in frustration as she tried once more only to remain at the same place as usual.

"Okay Alya think," Alya thought to herself as she calmed herself down with deep breaths. "You are an Unspeakable, you have explored the deeper mysteries of magic and its limits, surely you can guess the reason as to why you are not apparating back to England,"

The most basic and reason as to why apparition won't work is simply because there are anti-apparition wards on the place which is highly unlikely since Alya had honed her senses to sharpness on detecting the feeling of magic, a trait that she learned during the war against Voldemort. Magic always leave a trace for any magic-wielder to sense if he or she looks hard enough and this place doesn't feel an ounce of it at all.

Second is if a person doesn't know how to apparate which is ridiculous in all sense. Alya had been successfully doing apparition ever since she turned seventeen. In fact if she's honest with herself, she could do it with her eyes closed and a blaring music to distract her. So that one rules it out too.

The final and the most probable of reasons and the one that Alya believed is the correct one, is the fact that the place she is standing at is somewhere that she haven't been before. It is the logical choice that comes to her mind. She may have scoured the world for the past three years and visited many places thanks to her work as an Unspeakable, but that doesn't mean she have been everywhere. And also England is as familiar to her as the back of her hand, so why?

Frustration mounted Alya's head as she tried and failed once more. Looking around her she could find no place familiar in here. She had been on the Sahara desert once chasing after a scorpion blood for ingredients, but this desert doesn't look like the Sahara as far as she was concerned. This place is too rocky, filled with numerous rises and hills that limits the view into a few kilometers only. She'll be lucky to find a city or a settlement where she might connect with the ICW and make her way back home. It would be embarrassment to explain how a failed experiment brought her here and she could already picture out the amused expressions and laughs that will greet her the moment she returned back at the office.

If she could return back to the office. Surviving here is easy since she could conjure water that might sustain her for a time till she can find help.

The sound of horses neighing though stopped Alya's contemplation as to which direction she would take best on her plans to search for a destination. In fact it brought her slowly darkening mood down as the realization that civilization might be closer than she thought if there's a caravan appearing. She knew tribe people on deserts still used camels and horses when travelling it.

However her smile turned to a small frown as the caravan appeared. Alya have never seen a caravan like this before. Three wheelhouses bearing what seemed to be metal cages filled with people chained into the bars on their wrists came into view being towed by horses that looked like they have seen better days. Thirty men are with them. Ten are riding horses garbed in what seemed to be light leather armor while the remaining twenty bearing spears walking are simply wearing thick cloth which hid everything but the eyes on their faces. They look like a group of people from the black ages with their attires and if not for the sharpness of spears and swords they have, alongside the dripping blood among the cuts of the people inside the cages, Alya would have mistaken them as actors wandering around.

Right hand automatically going down to the long dirk as long as half of her right arm at her boot, Alya drew the slender piece of steel, its head glinting at the sun as she waited for the righters too get close. It did not take long.

"Now what do we have here Hert?" exclaimed one of the first men, his yellow teeth showing as he grinned to his partner in what Alya could guess is a victorious smirk as they eyed her the moment their horses skidded only a few steps away from her. She did not fail to notice that they had her surrounded as they sectioned their mounts.

"Aye, and a pretty one at this time," laughed the man obviously named Hert as he eyed her like a piece of meat. "It's not every day that we pick a pretty one these days. We could sell her to the magisters for a high price with a body and a face like that,"

"Garr, we could fuck her first, I won't mind having a piece of that ass," one of the men interjected making the two who spoke first scowl heavily at their partner.

"Fuck off Garett! You've already fucked five whores before we left. Leave this one alone, if she's a virgin, we don't want to ruin her, if we sell her imagine the price that she'll fetch at the slave market. Any of those yellow robed cunts would pay for her three times especially with a face and body like that,"

Now don't get Alya wrong, she's flattered, she really is. And she's no stranger on her beauty too, in fact she's vain, very vain ever since she realized that he is a she all along. She had long regal black hair that fell to her ass that she braided to a French braid regularly, high cheekbones, pouty lips that men and wizards dreamed to kiss, and piercing green eyes. Her body is also athletic, it's lithe and slightly curvaceous frame balanced her breasts which fell somewhere between the average in size for women. Normally Alya enjoyed men praising her beauty. However these idiots immediately made her tick.

It didn't help that the moment she heard the word: "slave market", she immediately knew what and who they are…..slavers.

Before the idiots could even notice, two of their number immediately fell from the horse clutching their throats futilely courtesy of a well-placed silent casting of cutting curses. The rest before they could regain their bearings immediately got thrown off as dust immediately exploded around thanks to a simple levitation spell that made every granule of sand fly for a split second. Enough for heiress of Black House to finish off the rest with her dirk as they lay confused and bruised on the grounds when their horses panicked at the sudden dust cloud.

When Sir Colville taught her to fight with mudane muggle weapons in melee, he had taught her well. Sure it is honorable to fight someone one on one fairly, but cunning is always the key to victory and if it takes a blade on the back to claim one, she must not hesitate. And she did not.

The screams of the men can barely be heard as the dirk finished off the ten with well-placed piercings all over their necks and hearts leaving most of them gurgling on their blood unable to make a sound, courtesy of the dirk of the Black heiress.

The sound of something whooshing over the wind however removed immediately the smile of triumph from Alya's face as honed instincts scream to life, powerful bombarda spell hit the earth sending stones flying everywhere that are immediately transfigured to dozens of shields imitating a tortoise covering Alya like a protective barrier only a split second away before the sound of metal hitting metal followed as arrows from the twenty men who had panicked at seeing a magic-user in action threw a volley even with their comrades still trapped with Alya.

"Keep on firing men! Kill the witch! Kill her and make her bleed!" roared one who is supposed to be the de facto leader as they continued raining arrows making Alya grunted as she felt one of the arrows finally got through the transfigured shield. She scowled as she remembered one of the first basic rules of transfiguration: "The Transfigured figure is only as strong as the original object," and the desert rocks isn't exactly designed for holding back steel-tipped arrows. Sooner or later, one of them will pass through.

One flick of her hand through wandless casting banished the transfigured shields back into rocks in random barrages through the dust of sand catching the men who is getting ready for another volley in surprise as the stones pelted those catching two on the head and killing them instantly while the others only looked worse for wear as they eyed a dusty Alya who is brandishing her dirk protectively in front of her.

"Damn this," thought the witch to herself as the remaining eighteen men advanced towards her with victorious smirks on their faces drawing their swords and axes as they dropped their bows. The dirk isn't enough to fight off these men. If she had a sword or a spear, she could try to win alongside her wandless magic, but her dirk won't last a second against them, not to mention she's badly outnumbered.

Alya is just ready to fight to her last breathe readying another cutting curse in her free hand as the men charged….

Only for an arrow with green fletching passed through the neck of the foremost of them stopping the others immediately as she and them watch the unfortunate soul fell dead with his blood pooling around his head.

"Death!" the sound of thundering hooves is immediately heard and Alya only had a second to see riders in scale armor appear over the horizon wearing green cloaks lined with gold threads, one of them carrying a sigil of a running horse over a field of green run over the surprised slavers trampling half of them in a moment's instance while sending the rest careening in three different directions.

Alya is so preoccupied at the sudden arrival of the riders; she barely parried an axe stroke that would have cleaved her head. The dirk however as she expected didn't take the full brunt of the axe well and splintered into a dozen pieces causing the Black heiress to fall flat on her back even as the man jumped atop her, his knife almost reaching her neck if not for her hand stopping his wrist barely.

"I'm going to kill you witch!" growled the man using the entire weight of his body pressing down on the eighteen year old girl causing the knife to near her throat inch by inch. "Then I'm going to fuck your dead body on the sand to remind everyone that nobody messes with the Great Masters of Mereen and esca-,"

He never finished his words as a bone hexing hex hit his spine, cleaving it in three different parts, killing the man immediately. Alya only a door from death's embrace immediately heaved him off taking deep breaths at how close she was on dying not noticing the regal man in silver armor and a crown on his well-trimmed hair poking at the sides looking down at her with one of disbelief as if he can't believe his eyes at all.

"Alya? Is that really you?" his voice cracked and Alya stiffened at the very familiar tone that she had only heard briefly before when she's younger and one where she was offered a home other than the one she had with Sir Colville and Dumbledore.

Green eyes met grey ones.

"Sirius? Dad? Is it really you?"

..

..

..

AN: I promised my Another World One Last Chance fans that I would write a HP X Warcraft fic but I'm so curious to try my mettle on Game of thrones fic X HP. So this is me trying. Hihihihi This is my 4th story ever since I started fanfiction and claimed Cassie's count. Hoping you guys would support me.

I've never read a fem Harry Potter in the GOT World. So let's try it shall we?

PS: Readers help me as the fanfic progress, Im very bad at the storyline of GOT. I only watched the movie and skip great parts of it due to the torture, the sex scenes and the other parts.

PS: He is the white wolf! The King in the NORTH! Yay Jon Snow wins! Hihihihi

PS: Review readers for my sake. I wanted to know your opionions.

*Chapter 2*: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

The battle, if it could even be called a battle barely lasted a minute or even half a minute as the Riders rode down the slavers that fought back and hunted down those that tried to run. Now Alya is sitting alone on one of the jutting stones not far off, watching her biological father talk with the leader of the Riders who are having his men cut every chain off the arms and necks of the slaves from the wagons.

A hundred different emotions warred inside her though her outward appearance doesn't show any sign of it. She is a black after all, and maintaining their stoic facades even in the face of danger or politics has always been one of the greatest traits that the Black family had.

There is no warm hugs, no tearful embraces as Alya met her biological father for the first time. In fact Alya preferred it that way for now. She had met Sirius Black only a few times when she is disguised as Harry Potter and the spell of forgetfulness that Dumbledore had applied still remain strong on the minds of those who are directly Alya's family. Sure they had been close being introduced as her godfather then, but she had Dumbledore and Thomas then watching over her and Sirius is let's just say….extra baggage that time. It didn't help that her opinion on him then is a mass murderer and only during the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix did they warmed to each other as friends and accomplices on some of the pranks. When Sirius died against Bellatrix by falling through the Veil, the backlash of his death didn't hurt her that much.

So now she's glad that Sirius didn't immediately try to coddle her like most fathers would do to their long lost children. She don't know how she would react if he did that. At least this way she can take things slowly. Especially the fact that she's still wrapping her head as to how he is still alive; not to mention dressed like some sort of king talking with men in armor…..in armor? Who in the world wears armor these days?

"Alya?" the firm but familiar gentle voice of the subject of her thoughts sounded through her front making Alya sigh as she turned her green eyes on the grey ones of her former godfather.

"Sirius,"

"Judging by the form of a female you have now, you finally know about the truth," it was a statement and not a question.

"I do," her curt answer replied.

"Alya, please, you had to know that if I had any inkling at all that you are my daughter then I would have-," began Sirius in an exasperated tone only to stop as Alya raised her right hand that immediately stopped his tirade.

"I hold you no ill will….father. Trust me when I say that when Gramps do something, he is perfectly good at doing it and as much as I am miffed at the thought that he erased everything that can relate to my true heritage, it is for my own good. I've seen how far our enemies are willing to go after the Dark Lord's fall. Many wizarding families that belonged to the light have been ransacked by Death Eaters in the hopes that they would find Harry Potter there. If Dumbledore didn't do what he did, I would not be standing in front of you here today…father,"

"But that doesn't excuse the fact that I am not there for you!" said Sirius heatedly, his grey eyes gloomy like thunderclouds reminding Alya of the man when he was freshly away from Azkaban.

Alya can only let out a sigh in annoyance. "You and many more who knew have their minds erased father. Not even Voldemort would be able to overcome the full power of Dumbledore's memory charm, not with the runic arrays Gramps put to make it permanent either until the prophecy's fulfilled or his death," pointed out the Black Heiress. "Besides what's done is done father and neither you nor I can change it no matter how much we wish it to be,"

The dark-haired man only sighed as he plopped his rear beside Alya after indicating to her to move a bit before crossing his hands as he watched the green caped Riders distribute bowls of water to the captured slaves while the others destroyed the wagons, salvaging the metal beams and the wood that can be carried on the spare horses.

"Did you know the circumstances of your birth Alya?" asked the man nervously making Alya simply nod. Dumbledore had left her a long ten page letter that the goblins delivered explaining the circumstances of her birth and the reasons why he did what he did and the names and information about her original parents and as to how she ended up as Harry Potter.

"Your mother and I, we are the best of friends after I graduated Hogwarts. Her name is Lyn de Chateau, I've never met anyone so beautiful as her. She's half-Spanish, half-French you see. She is a half-blood and one of the brightest witches I've ever met. Me and James met her when we're visiting bar to bar then in the muggle world then enjoying the experience of fresh graduate wizards. I was a young boy then foolish and innocent," despite herself Alya can't help but chuckle at her father's words making Sirius laugh too. Sirius is anything but innocent. He got the largest detention records in Hogwarts history, Alya can attest to that very much as Snape had her re-writing everything during her own detentions as her tenure as Harry Potter.

"Well, we are at our third bar then on three days and there she is dancing to the beat of the music on the dance floor. I was drunk then, very drunk. I only remembered flashes of talking and more drinking and music and one thing leads to another and I woke up at Jame's house naked as the day I was born with her. My backside never recovered from the beating that Charlus Potter's cane beat into my backside for me being so irresponsible," Sirius chuckled once more, his eyes getting a faraway look as he stared at the dunes of sand.

"On other circumstances I would have wed her, but my family would never accept her and once they heard that I have bedded a half-blood, they won't hesitate to kill her. They already hate me enough as it is. I can still remember the third month she came back after that day telling me that she's pregnant. I fainted then and James never let me forget it. Still, I'm no father material at my young age. Everyone that knows me know it and even Lyn knows it. That's why James and Lily talked me and your mother into adopting you as their own. Apparently Lily's womb is barren and James won't leave her. So I had the perfect opportunity to give away my own daughter though your mother disagreed first but you know Lily Potter, she had a knack for convincing people and managed to convince Lyn despite her initial misgivings,"

He bowed his head then as unshed tears fall. "I was such a fool then. Two days after you are born and just left on Lily and James' care, your mother died on her way back to her own country in France by a Death Eater ambush. It was the opening seasons of the first war then. I should never have let her go, but she insisted since her family didn't know her pregnancy and she had been far away too long. I never saw her again. The train she's riding killed sixty people, muggles and magicals both. I was distraught then, distraught enough to not think things through as the prophecy is delivered to us by Dumbledore. You already know then how things went on from there and how Peter betrayed us,"

"Father," began Alya only for Sirius to cut her off as her hands cupped her cheeks gently, his grey eyes containing the sorrow that had been hidden and kept at bay for so long.

"You look like your mother a lot Alya, don't you know? Gods she's so beautiful then and you look exactly like her except for the hair color. You have mine. You even got her green eyes. In fact if I'm going to be honest with myself, you are a spitting image of her, only younger. Oh how I wish that I was there when you and her needed me. I was useless back then before my imprisonment and I was useless when you fought the Dark fucker alone,"

Not willing to let her now real father drown himself in worry and sadness, Alya finally let go of her emotions as she embraced him feeling him embrace her in return with such intensity that she felt he would never let her go.

"Father, I'm here now. We're together again. Let nothing once more separate us," cried Alya feeling endless streams fell down her cheeks. Oh how she longed for someone to hold her like this; both times as Harry Potter and Alya Black, the orphans. She might never say it, but she envied her friends who had parents to care for them and despite the mother henning that Mrs. Weasley does to her trying to be his substitute parent for her mother, it just doesn't feel right.

"Oh my little emerald I missed you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything," she heard Sirius mutter to her ear kissing her brow hard before looking her hard in the eyes. "You'll be by my side now and I'll make it up to you as best as I can…my daughter,"

Alya rarely smiled, but when she does, but many people says it is like the moon shining in the heavens at the dead of night. Giving her father one of her rare smiles, the two embraced once more not noticing that the green caped soldiers have finally gathered in front of the two of them, looking uncomfortable on witnessing the emotional exchange that the two of them are doing.

Coughing twice, Alya and Sirius finally disentangled themselves from one another sharing fond smiles of relief and happiness before joining hands as they approached the assembled group.

"Gentlemen," began Sirius not removing the happy face that he began wearing when he and Alya finally accepted each other as father and daughter. "Forgive me for making you wait, but I want you to introduce to the most important person in my entire life now. This is Alya Black, my daughter,"

Any other woman would have blushed red at the sudden awed faces of men looking at her and then bowing their heads in reverence. Not Alya however, she had enough experience dealing with the rigors of the Wizengamot and its politics, maintaining her poker face and confusion as to why they're bowing (though she suspected that it might have something to do with the silver crown on her father's head), she bowed in return seeing as she can't curtsey in her jeans and black robes.

"Alya, this is Eadwin, son of Ecgmund, second prince of the Edain, the Horse-Lords," introduced Sirius with the said man removing his helm showing off a mop of long blonde hair and a fair face beneath the scale armor.

"Pleasure meeting you my lady," smiled the handsome young man bending down to kiss the hand of Alya. "I am honored to meet such a beautiful woman such as you and the daughter of King Sirius no less," he added as an afterthought making Alya crane her neck to Sirius with eyes clearly asking: "What the hell is this?" clear as day.

"The pleasure's mine Prince Eadwin, live long and prosper," Alya replied diplomatically making the young man smile before returning to ride on his white horse. Truly they earned the title Horse-Lords with how magnificent and well-groomed the beasts are.

"My lord, we'll be heading out now. I'll send for word for the white harbor of these folks that might be interested in joining you. My father would be pleased at the news that you had a daughter all along and us never knowing it," said the prince.

Sirius only snorted. "Of course he will, now ride along young one. Ride to glory,"

"Unto the world's ending," replied the young man putting his hand on his breastplate before gesturing his men to follow him, carrying the former slaves now on the backs of their horses leaving Sirius and Alya alone standing in the middle of the desert looking terribly out of place with their attires, one wearing a robe and another wearing silver chain mail beneath the expensive cape of ebony draped over it with a silver crown with winged design.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation,"

"Yeah,"

"About this world,"

"Yes."

"You've tried apparating didn't you?"

"I did," Alya's tone soured making Sirius laugh out loud causing the nineteen year old to pout annoyed at him.

"It's not funny you know, mind explaining to me why I can't apparate and why that guy is calling you king? And why in the world are they still wearing armor? Not to mention that I've got the feeling that I won't like the answer to my questions?" rambled Alya on and on with her father only looking amused at every phrase she popped out.

"Well the answers only one to all of your questions my dear little emerald. To calm you down you can't apparate due to the fact that this world is not our own and since you haven't been here…ever, the first rule of apparition. And don't worry Alya, our magic still works as you might have already found out if the wounds of these slavers is any indication," Sirius accentuated his point by kicking one of the corpses now being claimed by the desert not caring at all the gobsmacked expression that appeared on his daughter's face. "And yes, we are in a world where can only categorize as somewhere beneath the middle-ages I think if we classify it in our world's timeline. That means bows, armor, swords and kings and queens if I might add,"

"I'm not dreaming am I?"

"Certainly you're not," answered Sirius with a shrug though his eyes are filled with mirth at the disbelieving expression marring Alya's face. "Trust me Alya, I made the same expression as you did when I first arrived here and let's just say that the circumstance I fell in is a lot worse than yours will ever be. But enough about that, I presume you want to see your new home?"

"My new home?" Alya only blinked making Sirius grin widely.

"Of course, since you are stuck here like I am. I would rather not let you live in a hovel,"

"Hovel? But you said this place is barely out of the dark ages, surely there is-," Alya never finished her words as Sirius grabbed her wrist and the Black heiress found herself twisted alongside her father in a tube feeling of side-along apparition before appearing all of a sudden with a loud "CRACK!" at the top of a grassy hill looking over a white mountain clouded with fog. However as the fog cleared, Alya immediately found her voice stuck in her throat as her eyes absorbed the view in front of her.

Alya gazed in growing number at the great stone city vaster and more splendid than anything that she had dreamed of greater and stronger than Hogwarts Castle and far more beautiful with its white walls contrasting over the grey mountain range at which it stood side by side without shame. Seven walls of stone so strong and new that it seemed to look like not built, but carven by giants out of the very bones of the Earth rising on each level of the city.

Even as Alya gazed in wonder, the walls passed from looming greyish white to marble white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed over the eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the City. Then Alya cried aloud for the white tower upon a black-roofed Citadel standing high upon the topmost wall shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, tall and fair and shapely; and white banners broke and fluttered from the battlements in the morning breeze, and high and far she could hear silver trumpets ringing clear, greeting the coming of the sun.

"Welcome my daughter, to Minas Tirith, the City of Kings and the seat of House Black, the capital of Arnor," proclaimed Sirius who had watched in satisfied amusement at the gobsmacked expression of his daughter.

For Alya, she's just speechless unable to wrap her head around the facts that she's being faced as her logical mind connected the dots easily. "Another world…..city….my lord….princess…crown ….you're the,"

"King of Arnor yes," Sirius simply answered checking his fingernails for dirt as if stating that he's a ruler is just another day before looking at her. "And since you are my daughter, that makes you the princess of this realm,"

"But-….but," Alya's mind tried and failed to understand the things that are being shoved in front of her as everything seems to go to fast for her brain to comprehend and accept.

Sirius must have realized that it is too much for his daughter since he approached her with a comforting hug and a kiss on the brow. "Don't worry Alya, my beautiful emerald. You'll take it one step at a time understanding everything and I'll be with you the entire way,"

Alya just nodded joyful and nervous at the new revelations thrown to her today. Who would have thought that waking up bored from her bed this day would end up with her meeting her father, get thrust into another world, only to realize that said father is apparently a king of some great city and she is a princess and current heir?

Well she'll just take it one step at a time as her father suggested and hopefully she'll love this new home she had more than she'll ever love her old one.

..

..

..

AN: So that's chapter two and the end of the introductory chapters. Please Review readers. More revelations as to how the city is built and where it is on the map alongside Sirius' past would be shown next chapter. And Alya's life as a Princess before we go to Westeros and its Game of Thrones.

PS: yes, from where she met Sirius first, its in Essos and

PS: yes, I used a lot of LOTR references since I am a rabid fan. Keep up with me okay? I always wanted to try this out.

*Chapter 3*: Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

One would have thought that living on a medieval world would be a step down for someone as aristocratic, rich and respected as Alya Black. They could never have been more wrong. For the new princess of Arnor, choosing to stay with her biological father and getting to know him better is the best thing that had happened to her ever since she started her existence as the heiress of the Black family. Sure she'd miss the cushier lifestyle of the twenty-first Century, but she won't exchange for the world the offered place that this new world is offering her.

It's rather easy to connect with her original father, more so since Sirius is so open that despite the first awkward feelings, there is just something on the man that made him likeable and despite Alya's serious and slightly calculated nature (thanks to the lessons learned being Slytherin). In fact a lot of people on the City of Kings thanked her for her presence and for being present on reining in their monarch. Apparently Sirius Black is seldom "serious" and many of his subjects worried that the king is too eccentric for his own good. Now with a daughter that is exactly princess material and more than capable on bonking her father in line, the expressions of relief can be felt throughout the city.

She'd also met the five lords of the cities that fell under the control of Arnor and its territories. Arthur, Lord of Ithilien, a forested land nearest to Arnor found only on the East of the City and ruling over the White Harbor that receives ships from the outside. Bors of Lebanin whose five streams are well-renowned alongside its plains and farmlands. Galahad of Pelargir, the harbor city of Arnor and said to have the finest shipwrights that ever lived. Trystane the Tall of Belfalas, another port city that dealt more with the food production that had enough food to feed the entire nation and finally the noblest of them all, Prince Imrahil the Fair of Dol Amroth, the one who governed the finest city that rivals even Minas Tirith. Of course all of them put together composed Arnor and Sirius is the one true ruler of them all.

Alya had been interested though when Sirius and the five lords finally told her on her third day at Minas Tirith as to how the Isle of Arnor came to be. There she had come to understand what Sirius meant about her falling here having more pleasant experiences than his.

Apparently her father fell in the same way as she did. However he came through the Veil before finding himself in the Red Wastes where a band of Dothraki immediately pounced on him. Unlike her though, her father doesn't have the skill of wandless casting and he is easily enslaved by the horse riding barbarians and sold after into one of the Free Cities in Essos. Despite having magic but no medium, Sirius is forced to fight in the fighting pits of Mereen for three months and there he had met Arthur, Bors and Galahad though their names are different then with the three men refusing to say it due to the fact that such names are reminders of their time as slaves. With the four of them banding together and watching each other's backs, they managed to stay alive and survived the fighting pits before being recognized enough by one Safaz Parez, a trader to buy them to be his personal guards. There the two had met then Trystane from Dorne working as a fisherman and Imrahil, a second son of a wealthy family who had been driven out by his older brother due to paranoia that Imrahil would kill him and take over the family wealth.

Aboard the ship, Chains of Gold the six got acquainted for the first time and probably for the better since the ship owned by the trader on its trip to Dorne on Westeros got caught in a storm pushing it south pass the Southern Isles and far west, farther than any ship had gone before on the Sunset Sea. There it got caught in a reef on the shallows and between the waves and the wind, the ship stood no chance of surviving as the harsh weather tore it to pieces. All hands are lost except for Sirius and his five companions. It wouldn't have been possible if not for the magic of Sirius now moderately trained to use wandless casting since he had trained non-stop to adapt his magic without the medium of a wand. Still, the six of them would have died as they got caught on the storm while floating in the air before falling and washing ashore on this island. There the six of them had recovered and refreshed themselves as the realization struck that they are now free and took their new names that they are now using.

The next part of the story however nearly caused Alya's ears to fall off the sides of her head. When Arnor imagined rising as it is today, beautiful and powerful, one would have thought that its early beginnings would be some sort of noble dream from someone of ideals. To hear however that it is merely a joke accepted as a suggestion by her father of all people made Alya blink in disbelief.

Long story short, pushed by dreams that the six can lessen slavery a bit if they do their good deed on the world, the six now with Sirius' magic began abducting people for all sakes from the free cities and freeing them here, giving everyone a new life and a new start with not whip to urge them on. Large numbers of slaves of course accepted seeing the chance of freedom and many stayed. The large island after all is rich in minerals, and the ground is healthy being undisturbed for too long. Those that protested and wailed to go back had their minds erased before plopped at a random shore in Essos. The numbers here grew and grew and many became satisfied by their new lives that they crowned Sirius king, despite the man's protests.

Alya had to hide the mirth that threatened to reveal itself as she listened to the high lords of Arnor heaped praise upon praise on her father. Apparently Sirius had applied the twenty-first century of education here at his kingdom despite his still ongoing protests as king. The people are literate, the food is numerous and stocking up faster than they could eat them and everyone prospered. Guilds of different trades pop numerously and the once slaves are happy and productive. Craftsmanship rose to the point that it achieved the great city of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth in simply five years under Sirius' reign. The people are more than content and even in the three days that Alya have been here, she didn't need to see that the people worshiped his father to the point of fanaticism. Heck she'd bet her entire vault back at London that if Sirius ordered the people to jump on the sea and swim back towards Essos, they would without a problem. Arnor is large despite its slowly growing population and every now and then, freed slaves brought back by the Edain on the white shores of the Island are inducted to their lifestyle.

It did not fail to notice Alya's notice however the powerful flow of magic almost seeping on the ground. It is unlike anything she had every felt, pure, untainted and powerful like the very blood of the earth passed through here. It influenced everything and everyone around on the island and she's not blind to notice that the people here had changed differently from the ones she met at the mainland of Essos. They are fairer and taller, looking regal like kings and princes. The longer the ones stayed here, the further their faces changed. Even a sixty year old man looked more a forty than his current age. Nearly all of them are supporting long hairs now that they braided like some sort of tradition here. All in all if compared to the stuffy slavers and even the gallant riders that he met before, oh those guys would look even inadequate by a large margin. Even the women here would now put to shame the models back at her world if beauty is to be based. Sirius simply called the magic aura "the Dragon Path" when Alya mentioned it to him, something about powerful ley lines points that served as magic crossing lanes in this world.

All in all, the realm of Arnor is something to be proud of. Here the winged crown of the Black family dwelt in peace and secrecy with the black banner of the silver tree on it as its sigil. Its armies are powerful and large, especially the knights of Dol Amroth, proud princes even among their people and most noble of their stock on the Isle.

Now Alya is here riding a Gryphon alongside her father, feeling the wind touch her face as the magnificent beast soared in the clouds. She had asked her father about how he managed to breed Gryphons and the King of Arnor had been hesitant to answer. When she asked Prince Imrahil about it, the lord of Dol Amroth simply shuddered as if remembering something disgusting before explaining something about milking white lions and experimenting on eagle eggs. Alya didn't ask for any elaboration after that.

"I see your little project's going well I see," said his father beside her, looking as kingly as ever despite abandoning his crown and only wearing the black cape of ebony that he seemed fond of. Alya called it vain, he called it style.

"I know. I never expected that it would be going so fast though," pointed out Alya making Sirius bark out a laughter as the two of them watched the great construct that Alya had proposed, to help solve some of the problems of Dol Amroth looking over the Eastern sea. Apparently despite its grandeur and beauty, it is severely lacking in food production with it too close to the salt waters that killed crops that the fiefdom planted forcing Prince Imrahil to trade with the others fiefs on the large island, something that is counter-productive when enemies landed on the shores of the East. Now however with the plans that Alya made, the city would have a reliable food supply of their own.

"Of course it would be going so fast. The prince is ready to kow-tow to you when you shared your plans and the people of the city worshipped you now as a goddess made flesh. Food is hard to come by here to Dol Amroth and you just gave them the cake as to how to get it without asking in return,"

Alya only glared at her father for the annoying comparisons as she focused her green eyes once more on the mountain sides which looked like it had been now crafted into a thousand steps by the people working on them. "I only did what I did for the good of the realm," (far away a certain Spider sneezed as his motto is stolen from him). "What kind of princess would I be if I ignored those who needed my knowledge and help? No matter how advanced our people may be here, they are still far off from the ones we are used to father,"

"I know, we'll drag the Renaissance here maybe one day, but we had to take it one step at a time for now," Sirius said placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder looking at the magnificent view of the Mountain Terraces that the newly crowned princess of Arnor suggested, that is now being built. "I'm glad though that you accepted being a princess. For a moment there, I was worried that you might reject the offer in front of everyone on the ceremony. The five high lords would never let me forget it then,"

Despite herself, Alya can't help the snort that escaped her lips. The five high lords of Arnor looking first like serious legal men are more men of honor and truth thanks to their upbringing first as slaves. Sure they may be loyal to a fault and proud men, but they are not cunning like her father. For once Alya is thankful of Sirius' decision for Arnor not to open itself up on the world. Sure the armies of Arnor is powerful and its people rich, and any sort of invasion would prove futile if the fighting spirit of the soldiers she had seen in the training grounds are any indication. However there are more than one way to bring down a nation and no matter how loved her father and his lords are, they are Gryffindors' through and through. The politics would eat them alive. There is a place as to which honor and chivalry would be useful, but it can only takes a ruler such. It requires a sharp mind to lead a nation and Alya is vain enough to believe that her mind is one such. She had been trained by the portrait of her grandmother to lead house Black and no matter how much a bitch Sirius' mother is, Alya can't deny that she is a genius when it comes to political maneuvering.

Sirius knows it, the five lords know it and even the officers and leading representatives she had met so far know it. It won't be honest and it won't be clean, but it would benefit Arnor in the long run once Sirius planned to announce them in the world which he planned soon to do. At least once Alya finished her studies about the histories and lands of this world. She had always loved reading even before as Harry Potter and surprised her father and her father's seneschal when instead of balking at the small mountain of books they placed at her desk on her second day here, Alya jumped in glee and eagerly began devouring the knowledge inside them in giddiness.

"You know father, I had to admit. I never expected that the people would accept me here as their princess," said Alya faintly aware that Sirius' attention focused on her again and not on the slowly building rice Terraces.

"Oh and why is that so?"

"I believe that some people would have questioned the validity of the fact that I am your daughter and not just someone acting as one. After all, even I would be skeptical if you just appeared with a woman that slightly resembles me and then proclaim it as my mother," pointed out Alya.

"Well you are right, a little had been rather….questionable once word spread that I had a daughter," explained Sirius. "However with your hair color almost resembling mine on every inch and the fact that you can use magic on the same way I do cleared most of the dissenters. Though it gave me a new set of problems,"

"Marriage contracts?" Alya simply raised an eyebrow in question making Sirius bark out in laughter.

"I still can't believe how good you are at guessing my thoughts my little emerald, but the answer is yes," he smiled grimly. "Not that I'm allowing it. I've just met you and I'll be damned before I let some snotty brat get his dirty hands on you. They'll have to go through me first if they want to take a shot at my daughter,"

Despite herself, Alya can't help but sweat drop as she stared at her father. Currently, the king of Arnor and beloved of his people looked more like a bulldog trapped in a kennel and left for a week as he grumbled in an overprotective manner muttering how he would tear limb from limb any idiot who dared look at her the wrong way.

"Don't worry father," Alya chuckled putting a gentle hand at the arm of the person muttering something about horses dragging an unfortunate soul that dared woo his little gem until there is nothing left but pieces of him. "I'm not planning to marry anytime soon, and besides. My preference are more focused on the fairer sex rather than it's opposite,"

The look that the King of Arnor then supported is priceless and Alya can't help but laugh out loud at how comical it looked. The next string of words that he is about to spout clogged in his throat and he is doing a good imitation of a goldfish closing and opening it in shock. Alya wished that she had a camera to record it immediately.

"You…what….why….I don't understand?" babbled the confused king at his daughter who only smiled mischievously at him.

"Come on Father, it's not that hard to understand and absorb isn't it? I've lived almost seventeen years of my life as Harry Potter, my interests of course as him despite the spell now lifted will remain the same as his. Of course that doesn't mean I'm not opposed with the idea of sleeping with boys. I'm not a virgin already you know, I've done many one night stands during the war against Voldemort, to make myself forget a while the war looming over us then," Alya sharpened her eyes then at Sirius who is now resembling a tomato at the information that is shoveled into his mind without warning.

"I believe you're okay with this….father?"

"Err..I…uhh..," Sirius Black can barely form a coherent sentence. The revelations that his proud and independent child pushed unto him he truly didn't expect. He truly didn't expect that he'll have this talk so soon after only meeting her. Still, that doesn't' mean he can dictate what she wanted, she is willful that is plain as day and what her interests and what she does is her own to deal. Besides, look at the bright side at least if she's more interested in girls, he won't be worrying about boys getting their claws on her that much.

Forcing a smile at the moment that hid his inner turmoil, Sirius simply replied with a small nod and "Of course,"

When she hugged him, he can't help but believe that he did the right choice. The Royal family of Arnor is now complete with his daughter back at his side; something that Sirius had almost given up at ever since he came into this world.

..

..

..

AN: Well come on guys any review at all? I wanted to know your opinions readers.

PS: Introducing the kingdom of Arnor to the world next chapter.

*Chapter 4*: Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

"That's a little bit extreme isn't it?"

Prince Imrahil simply shrugged watching the mixture of scowling and impressed expression that the heiress of the kingdom of Arnor is making as she observed her father's "surprise gift" for her twenty-first birth day. It had been two years ever since the daughter of their king have landed here and succeeded without help from her father on winning the souls and hearts of the entire kingdom. If she and Sirius ever got into a fight for the crown, Imrahil would bet his castle of Dol Amroth that the illegally-beautiful black-haired princess would trump over her father in spades. Whereas Sirius is noble and good-hearted, wearing his heart on his sleeve, Alya is cunning, wise beyond her years and can be cold-hearted when dealing with justice on the court (as such few it is that appear on the kingdom). Everyone loved their princess and that is saying something since the population of Arnor lacked very little and it takes a great deal to win the absolute loyalty of people who had everything.

As for Imrahil, he'd be lying if he denied that he had fallen to love the Black-haired beauty as a sibling. He still haven't forgotten the debt he and his people owned when Alya showed them the great rice terraces mountains of Dol Amroth only a day's march away from their city and their current food supply. The large farmlands etched on the sides of the three barren mountains looked like it had been carved by giants instead of worked by hands of men.

He had been at her side since then, leaving the rule of Dol Amroth under the regency of his younger brother who like him had been saved by Sirius and brought here. He had quite a talent and hobby for organizing things despite the tender-age of twelve that Imrahil never had, thus he had been the one managing the castle much to the Prince's relief.

That gave him time to focus on more urgent priorities like today, where the Kingdom of Arnor will first introduce themselves to the outside world with Alya Black leading the trade negotiations. Sirius had volunteered to be the one leading it, but the five lords and Alya overruled him, mentioning that as powerful and brave as he may be, he'll be torn apart by cunning merchants who will trump him upside down. Sirius is many things, but not a trader.

That doesn't mean that she would be alone though. Four swan ships would be making the journey, each ship having sixty men and women each handpicked from the Tower of the Guard, the ones in charge of the Royal Family's protection while Alya, her handmaidens and the few merchants that is brave enough to face the outside world once more would be on the final boat with forty of Dol Amroth's knights, chosen by Imrahil and Sirius themselves; honorable and noble men willing to go to the depths of hell for their princess.

Prince Imrahil didn't need the private conversation that his king had taken him to, to make sure that no aspiring boys touch her daughter or leer at her in such frivolous ways not befitting her station. The cleaver that he had strapped at the edge of his belt would be the perfect tool that would be called into service if that ever happens. Nobody looking down at his surrogate sister for simply being a woman and a baby-maker would be able to escape the wrath of that particular weapon then.

"At least he succeeded on surprising you princess," replied Imrahil neutrally, he had tried arguing with Sirius that his "surprise gift" is a little bit extreme, but the man insisted on it since it would be a "surprise" after all. He had warned his king about it but the man as eccentric as ever wanted to impress his daughter.

"Oh I am surprise alright. And impressed if I might add; in fact, I believe that the next ten generations of this world would be both surprised and impressed?" sarcasm dripped from her every word and Imrahil can't help but wince slightly. She had a point there.

The Argonath, Sirius called it, two massive three hundred and fifty statues of him and Alya standing parallel side by side with their palms out to the open waters. It is the only entrance to Arnor due to the reefs guarding the narrow straight that leads to the bays of the great island nation. Any ship that tried sailing past the sides of the Argonath would be wrecked immediately by the reefs. It is also the only indication through the mists of the Sunset Sea going west, farther west than the ships of this age dared to tread. It is said that this part of the ocean is where the storms are born, but what many don't know is that passed the storms is the great Mist which is Arnor's borders and passed that is the Argonath which opens to the Sea of silver, as the Arnorians call it thanks to the millions of flying silver fish that tends to keep up with the Swan ships of Arnor every time they sailed the Calm Sea.

"You had to admit that it is a marvel of architecture though," pointed out Imrahil as the Swan ship bearing the colors of Minas Tirith passed the looming shadows of the massive statues.

"It is indeed," nodded Alya, Imrahil mentally sighing in relief at the now pleased expression on her face. "Our artisans truly have exceeded themselves this time,"

Despite himself, Imrahil can't help but chuckle in agreement. One of Alya's greatest traits that her people admired is her faith on them and their success. That's one of the reasons why they tried so hard to do their best, only if to make their beloved princess proud. Imrahil's good mood however went to the drain at the sudden mischievous look that appeared on Alya's face, the only indication that she is up to something that will embarrass him again with either words or actions. No matter how….serious she is sometimes, her blood is their king's also and with that came….pranks and a million jokes along with it.

"I had one question though Imrahil, why in the world is your face not there?"

Imrahil sighed as he knew that this would be one long journey for him.

..

..

..

There's nothing more boring than standing on watch duty, it doesn't matter if you're a soldier or a princeling. Syrio Forel, also known as the First Sword of Braavos is unfortunately stuck on one such duty. Not because of punishment, no, no far from it in fact. The First Sword is not only the protector of the Sealord but also his representative on the arriving merchants and traders a few hours a day. It's basically propaganda to make the people more welcome at Braavos and entice even more people to come to their city due to their hospitality. That's the reason why only nobles and very few peasants arise to the position of First Sword. Having correct education and awareness of the merchant trade and how to interact with different representatives that come here to do business with the Iron Bank is needed. After all it won't do for Braavos to accidentally insult a customer due to ignorance on propriety.

That doesn't negate the fact that it is still boring work.

Three hours now Syrio had been standing on the same spot ignoring the heat of the sun beating down on his head and the soreness of his knees as the permanent smile on his face remain plastered as he greeted another noble from another city. It is tiring and boring work, but one that is required from the honor of holding the title as First Sword.

The First Sword of Braavos however was broken out of his stupor of boredom at the loud gasps that came from the people on the docks. Frowning a bit as he saw the gathered crowd staring at the Southern part of the wooden posts, Syrio strode forward, people standing aside as they recognized the surcoat of his leather armor and his position as he checked what is causing the commotion.

It did not take long for him to find out.

At the light of the morning sun, four sails that he didn't recognize approaches in speeds that he had never seen yet before. Black is their colors, with a white tree and five stars imprinted at the middle of the square. The four boats shone like silver as they glided easily like seabirds on the coasts towards the docks. Estimating their speed and the distance, Syrion guessed that it would take them at least another fifteen minutes before they finally reached his position.

"Call the city guard," ordered Syrio Forel immediately to one of the hired guards who had also gathered to check the commotion startling him. "Have them gather here immediately and in full livery,"

"You!" he turned to one of the slimmer merchants who looked like a lot fitter compared to the other lub of whales those merchants tend to be. "Go to the Sealord's palace and tell him that there are unknown ships approaching. Have him send notice to the Iron Bank, we may need their men if these unknown ships plan to invade,"

It is not the first time ambitious pirates or warlords tried on invading Braavos after all, not with the Iron Bank situated here.

"Yes sir," the merchant bowed before bursting off to the Sea Lord's palace as if the Seven Hells is running after him leaving Syrio Forel and the people who is slowly being pushed back by what City Guard that is assigned to the docks to relative safety just in case a fight would happen.

It was only a few minutes of waiting, but for the First Sword of Braavos, it was almost an eternity as he stood there with his hand on the pommel of his sword as the Swan-designed-ships finally reached the docking harbor, the black sails closing, and a fine contrast to the white wooden colors of the ships.

He nodded to the guards that are the substitute for the normal dock workers who immediately sprang into action catching the ropes thrown from the ships to tie into the harbor while preparing the plank that served as the walkway from the stone cobblestones to the ships side. Waving the other remaining men to follow him, Syrio Forel walked forward, and stopped a few steps on the cobblestones away from where the plank is interconnected as he waited for the newcomers. He could feel the harbor master at his side almost rattling the stones in his nervousness.

The first impression that Syrio got immediately is "rich", and that is stated in an undermining manner. Pairs of men stepped out from the ship, each taller than a head from the guards that helped tie the ship to the pier. Their armor is finely crafted, finer than anything that Syrio has ever seen in his life. Its metal is literally gleaming on the morning sun alongside the silver lining it had on its sides. The symbol that is flown on their sails before are engraved on each man's breastplate with the same color of the metal of their armor. Their helms are unique too, it is oddly shaped like wings going up and the only part of the men that Syrio can see is their piercing eyes as a black cloth covered the lower part of their nose and their faces. Black capes trailed behind them as they held the spears of metal at their hands giving each an aspiring look. In fact, the only flesh that Syrio can see from them is their eyes and the upper part of their noses, everything else is covered with light metal armor or black cloth. His warrior instincts are screaming danger at him that these men are dangerous and it would be a bad idea to fight anyone of them.

"So this is Braavos," a musical voice brought Syrio out of his observation at the guards who immediately bowed on their knees and heads as the most beautiful woman that Syrio had ever seen stepped out of the boat.

Beautiful women had been a common cause for leaders of the Free Cities in Essos to fight over. Syrio himself had called it folly. He never believed that beauty could be a reason for men to spill their blood over. However seeing the noble beauty standing in front of him right now, Syrio found himself evaluating that if there is one woman kingdoms would fight and die over for, this was one.

Her hair is colored in ebony with high cheekbones, piercing blue and black eyes with the fairest face that he had the lucky to see. She's a lithe figure but tall and had the bearing of someone who can put even the more stuck-up nobles to shame but not let you feel as if you are insulted. Her beautiful smile promised something akin to mischievousness, showing a light that witnessed many things both good and bad.

In fact this beautiful woman, barely out of girlhood took the word "beauty" on astonishing heights. This was a gem at which kings and gods would fight and die over for.

Her attire is also different from any other woman or man he had ever seen. Instead of dresses or loose clothes and tunic, she wore instead a simple light blue shirt hugging her body and bearing witness to its shapely form. The cloak she wore he had not seen its design before, in fact it looks like another shirt instead made of black leather with an open front that showed the shirt she wore beneath. This one however is loose. The pants she wore are also black and like her shirt, hugged every contour and line of her shapely legs. In fact, she made the clothes that men wear extremely feminine and arousing in a very unknown manner.

Walking a few steps back, looking like her personal guards are men who wore almost the same design as the armor of the ones who disembarked first. Unlike them however their armor had blue linings at the edges supporting also a blue cape and a crescent helm instead of the winged ones of the guard. Piercing grey eyes all of them had roaming curiously over the docks, to the gathered people and the ships.

"Good morning my lady," greeted Syrio Forel diplomatically bowing in respect to the black-haired beauty who had walked forward to him, the other men stepping after her. "Welcome to the grand city of Braavos. I am Syrio Forel, the First Sword of this city and let me be the first to welcome you,"

"Indeed," nodded the woman in front of him with a neutral smile that almost disarmed Syrio right there and then. How could someone looking so trusting bear ill will?

"Truly the tales held little imagination to the beauty of your city. I am Alya Black, eldest daughter of King Sirius Black of the Kingdom of Arnor and all its supporting realms,"

Syrio's eyes immediately widened as the word "Daughter of a King" registered on his mind as he bowed low befitting this…princess' station.

"Forgive me your grace, I didn't know that you are a….,"

"Oh stand up already. I don't want people flopping down like dying fishes the moment they see me," groaned the girl gesturing for Syrio to straighten up, looking curiously at the guards of the Princess snickering while she held a small scowl.

"This man beside me…," the princess gestured to a long-haired man with piercing grey eyes and a look that literally screamed "I am a handsome knight, come and see!"…is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, one of my father's vassals,"

"It is an honor to meet you First Sword of Braavos," the knight greeted extending a hand forward that Syrio immediately took.

"Just Syrio would do fine Prince Imrahil," smiled the shorter man before letting it go as he stared at the Princess in front of him.

"Forgive me for asking your Grace, but tell me. What is your purpose for coming here with so much many men? Braavos would not tolerate invasion or to be forced as vassals for any kingdom,"

"And you not need worry Syrio Forel," replied Alya raising a hand in peace. "We've come to Braavos with the same intention that every merchant come here for, to trade. The fame of Braavos as a merchant city roamed far and wide and since my father's kingdom now pulled up the isolationists policy that we have for the first time. I found it prudent to choose your city as the first one that our kingdom would connect with. Did I make a mistake coming here?"

"No, of course not your grace," smiled Syrio quite glad that he's not supposed to tangle with any of this men standing in front of him. He is interested however on sparring with them, if only to state his curiosity as to how they fight.

"So that's why I haven't heard about any kingdom named Arnor. Braavos is honored that you chose our city to meet first. Since this is your first time here and for the praise on our city, all docking fees for your ships would be free this time. Any goods that you buy for today will also be deducted. However you're Grace, if it isn't much of a problem. Would you mind accompanying me to the residence of the Sealord. His eminence would be honored to meet you your grace and formally welcome you to our city. It's not every day we received such beautiful and eloquent dignitaries," said Syrion flamboyantly as the Princess stared at Prince Imrahil in a silent exchange of words before the Prince of Dol Amroth finally nodded.

"I'll come with you alongside Prince Imrahil and our guard," the Princess finally said gesturing to the forty or so grey eyed men who had stood in formation at her words. "The rest of my men will stay here and set up a small stall where we might showcase the goods that we have brought to trade from my homeland. Is that acceptable First Sword?"

"Of course it would be Princess. I'll send the runners throughout the city to inform the masses of your presence here. Mayhaps they would be interested on the merchandise that you have come to sell,"

"Good, now lead the way, Syrio Forel,"

"Of course your Grace," the First Sword of Braavos gestured to ten of the guards to the flanks to stop the curious crowd from coming too close to this new dignitary as he led them through the…nicer…streets towards the Sealord's palace. He made a mental note though to batter on the field later the three guards at the rear guard to pieces. They could cause an international incident with the way they're ogling the shapely rear of the Princess of Arnor through her pants.

..

..

..

AN: For some of your questions readers. I'm sorry if you're wondering as to why Harry is female here and ive got quite a few messages about the f/f.

Im sorry if I didn't state it right. Alya would be like Oberyn interested on the other sex as well as the fairer one. The pairing here correctly would be (Alya X Elia X "the one who is supposed to be her official husband" still under thoughts). So that's that for now. Hope ya like the first contact readers.

Please Review if you can. The more opinions there are, the better inspired I would be for writing this.

PS: Forgive me for not updating regularly, I've got Preliminary exams next week.

*Chapter 5*: Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

"Hahaha for a royal princess, I truly didn't expect to someone like you," guffawed the Sealord taking another swig of the Arbor Gold enthusiastically. "With all the royal pricks coming in here and acting as if they're more superior and sniffing down on me, I half expected someone like that when my old boy Syrio told me here that a new kingdom had sent its representatives, and its princess heir no less. You proved me damn wrong you're Grace and for that, you have my respect. Here's a toast, for nobles worthy of recognition!"

"I'll drink to that. And I truly didn't expect that a leader of this city would be so courteous and…controlled as you," Alya replied taking a sip of her own wine, eyebrows raising at the taste that lingered on the tip of her tongue.

"Dornish wine," explained the Sealord who had noticed the expression on the princess of Arnor's face. "One of the strongest brews that our world has ever seen, maybe not as tasty as that Arbor gold on Westeros, but this one does just fine. Burns through your tongue and straight towards your gut with you feeling it every step of the way,"

"I can attest to that," Alya replied wincing a bit as the fiery brew goes down her gullet. She had never been good on strong drinks and only limit herself on softer ones. In Alya's book, a calm mind is a sharp mind and a year of dealing with the Wizengamot made her wary of everything, especially the drinks she is served at meetings and invitations.

"I never knew that you are a wine connoisseur and also a ruler my lord,"

"Aahhh, not really, my second boy, William bless his talents loved the vineyards as he loved the sea. He had a land not far from here to escape the salty air of the sea. Hundreds of grapes and other exotic fruits he grew there alongside his servants. Every now and then he gives me samples of his own brew and their names,"

"I see, I've always admired men who takes the time to know what he drinks," commented Alya taking only small sips on her glass to keep the fiery brew from completely overwhelming her. "Most men simply drinks everything that their servants pour on their cup and doesn't even take the time to know what it is,"

"An observant one aren't you?"

"Comes with the profession of being a daughter my lord, truly you who had met troupes of royalty already must understand the burdens of such positions if one is to take it seriously,"

"Indeed, indeed. And that's why I like you more compared to the other pricks that sat on the chair you are sitting now. Well, here's to you my lady. To good merchandise and trade between our nations,"

"To good merchandise, and trade," replied Alya raising her own glass to clink with that of the Sealord of Braavos.

"Cheers,"

"Cheers,"

As Alya drank the wine, she can't help but mentally congratulate himself. The first trade of Arnor is a success all in all. The glowing gems that can be used as a replacement for torches and the seashells and pearls of beauty that are abundant in the shores of almost all the five cities of the island became an instant favorite of the locals. How could they not? The pearls of Arnor are not like regular pearls that you can pick up anywhere. Each one of them had a unique sheen that had no duplication to another. Sizes of dove's egg, their hues are like rainbows in the morning and starlight in the evening. Everyone loved it and the twenty crates of the expendable stuff had been emptied in a heartbeat as everyone literally who had money and contain some sense of vanity fight over one another to at least be able to buy even one pair.

The Iron Bank of Braavos also sent its representative with papers detailing information about the bank and how the Island kingdom of Arnor would be welcome to its fold if it needed gold with the bank more than able to accommodate them as long as they would pay…with interest. Alya almost snorted at that. Her father is notorious for not paying debts; she can attest to that when Arthur lost his pillow-chair alongside his father's sleep privileges when Alya unseated Bors on a practice joust that sent the bald man careening out of his horse. The two of them bet that Alya would lose but Imrahil betted against them and won. Sirius cheated, using as his authority as king to deny Imrahil's win as negated since gambling is "illegal". He got an earful from Alya two hours later much to the amusement of the workers of the White Hall of the King where the Royal Family stayed.

Still, that doesn't mean the bank didn't trade. They had literally signed papers saying that they are buying large numbers of food supplies that could last a year and to be delivered by Arnor the next time they're here. The gold that they paid would have lasted two generations if Alya's count on it was right.

The negotiations and the meetings with the Sealord is also a success if not enjoyable. As Sirius and Imrahil had predicted, Alya's unfair beauty got her in trouble with a lot of attention and more than one male had fallen into ditches, and the pier as they are unfocused thanks to their eyes gluing to the walking marvel of beauty. Alya is used being stared back at Earth, it is easy for her to shrug the appreciative glances. The people here looked at her as if she is a piece of meat they want to devour. It didn't help that the passive Legilimency she brushed against one of the admirers turned her blood cold. If not for the guards surrounding her, she could see his imagination of himself kidnapping and raping her at one of the side-alleys until nothing is left of herself. Well, he did pay with his imagination as the silent family-killing curse from her hit his balls without him knowing, killing whatsoever chance he had to impregnate a woman. It had been a great sense of relief that they arrived at the Sealord's palace with Syrio Forel leading them.

The Sealord had been downright welcoming to them without being too much overwhelming which is a bit of a relief for Alya and her retinue. Despite being a little jovial, the merchant lord greeted them as equals. He showed no sign of being intimidated or lust to the beautiful princess. One passive from Alya actually made the princess of Arnor smile as the image of a simple looking woman is the center of the Sealord's mind. He loved his wife, and he loved her dearly that not even Alya's beauty budged him.

His eldest son is another matter altogether.

Whereas his father is cool as a cucumber despite the radiant beauty of the Princess of Arnor, Wilhelm is the complete opposite. The nineteen year old boy literally stopped dead on his tracks as he entered the room the moment his eyes made contact with the face of Alya. In fact he even drooled openly in front of them all and his father had to order Syrio to drag him away in order to avoid alienating their guests.

Alya simply waved it off as good humor. As said before, she had a very vain attitude and men falling down or running over walls isn't new to her. At least his thoughts are a bit more honest compared to the one she had "damaged" back at the docks. She had gleaned enough in his head that Wilhelm planned to ask his father to ask Alya if she's willing for a marriage contract with him later. Hey, blame her for using Legilimency without permission.

"So how long will you be staying at Braavos your Grace?" asked the Sealord refilling the now empty wine glass at his hand.

"Maybe a day or two," replied Alya calculating the days in her heads. "My men would take time to arrange some of the goods we bought here and another day to prepare and check the ships for damages before we head South towards Mithrim to visit my father's friend, Lord Thengel,"

To her surprise, the Sealord who is about to drink from his cup stopped to stare at her at the mention of the lands of the Horse-Lords situated between the wide plains between Braavos and Pentos where settlements of theirs are scattered at."You know Old Thengel?" he asked.

"Aye, I do, or at least my father does," answered Alya with a nod. "They had been friends before when they are younger. Is there a problem my lord?"

"No, no. I'm just surprised," the Sealord muttered as he took small sips of his drink. "Braavos and a lot of the cities near the coast is thankful to the presence of the Edain as they call themselves; dissuaded a lot of Dothraki screamers and aspiring bandits trying to raid our cities. Mighty beasts their horses are. Unfriendly though, would allow no one to enter their land until now,"

"Indeed," Alya agreed. The Edain is literally the only ally that Arnor had during its isolationist period. They provided information for the Island nation on the outside world every now and then, sending owls that braved the journey southwest, communicating with Sirius and transporting rescued slaves using magic. That's the reason why they're so strict on their borders, the other free cities which legalized slavery won't appreciate the fact that their business is being damages since Riders of the Edain every now and then ranged far and wide with their horses and kill any slaver or caravan that had the unlucky fashion to run into them.

"So your Grace, if you don't mind. Let me host a feast for you and your men tonight. The representatives of the Iron Bank and myself agreed on it as a sign of friendship and new starts with your people and ours. What say you, your Grace?" asked the Sealord.

Alya remained silent for a while turning the cup on her hand before looking at her childhood friend. "Prince Imrahil, do we have the time to spare?"

"Yes Princess, attending the feast won't damage our time table that would lead us on our road to meet Lord Thengel," answered the Prince of Dol Amroth.

"Very well, I would be honored to attend Sealord," Alya said looking at the Sealord who look pleased.

"Good, so...more wine your Grace?"

..

..

..

Seventeen year old Oberyn Martell yawned wide and bored as he watched the dignitaries appear one by one entering the Sealord's palace each either pompous and fat as they seated themselves to the different parts of the hall to attend the. He had been here rechecking the relations of Dorne from the Iron Bank while at the same time doing what he love the most…..travelling and adventuring. Doran had not liked it, but had allowed him as Oberyn can cause him headaches if his free spirit is not allowed to be set free. Never say that Oberyn doesn't have ways to annoy his brother if his stuffy rules of upbringing the slowly budding Red Viper of Dorne.

"What do you think is the purpose of the Iron Bank my sweet?" asked Oberyn to his best friend and still-being-considered-lover, Ellaria Sand sitting beside him wearing one of her flamboyant Dornish silks that never failed to arouse Oberyn every time, though he hides it well without knowing that Ellaria is purposely aware how much she's affecting him.

"I don't know loved one, but if the rumors are true, then it is about another dignitary that the bank wanted honored. Curious, since the bank usually wouldn't be so expressive of it," pointed out Ellaria. "Either he's very important or had something that the bank extremely wants,"

"Maybe that he is a she," Oberyn spoke out making Ellaria grin at him with all teeth.

"You're the only one who would be interested more in gender than the reason they are invited for celebration love,"

"I know, I know and you love me for it," Oberyn self-proclaimed leaning in to steal another kiss from her when the sound of the halls' door opening stopped him as every eye turned to the Paige bearing the Sealord's insignia stand at the middle.

"My lords, my ladies, let me introduce the honored guest for tonight's feast, princess Alya Black of the Kingdom of Arnor and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth," the Paige introduced, standing aside and bowing as the most beautiful woman that Oberyn had ever witnessed stepped into the hall making the Prince of Dorne's breathe clog in the middle of his throat.

The woman walking on the aisle walking towards the raised dais is a goddess in human form in his opinion. Unlike the other women, she wore no ornaments whatsoever on herself other than a pair of silver earrings shaped like a crescent moon. No make-up adorned her face and one look is all that the Prince of Dorne needed to know that all her beauty is natural. She is simply wearing a slender dress which bared her shoulders and a lot of her back showing creamy skin. The male walking arm by arm with her is no less beautiful with blue and silver robes. Oberyn never thought that he would classify a male with the word beautiful, but this one can only be described as one.

As the two walked towards the raised dais, Oberyn is painfully aware at how tight the other head on his breeches as he imagined what the goddess walking among them naked and under him. Ellaria beside him is grinning and he knew that if not for the fact that he' sitting, his pants would be visible to anyone making a small tent already.

"She looks like a goddess in human form isn't she?" teased Ellaria at his side biting her lip as her eyes roamed over the slender curves of the beautiful creature who seemed to glide more than walk as she sat on the raised dais after shaking hands with the Sealord and the representatives of Braavos. "I wonder how she would be in bed? Someone beautiful as that surely can't be a virgin anymore,"

Oberyn only smirked. "Will someone like that even bother to bed with us? Haven't you heard? She's a princess and probably a prick like most royals,"

"Trying won't hurt," shrugged Ellaria nonchantly as the song started for the dance before grinning as she hauled him up towards the starting dancers where young men are already tripping over themselves to be the one to dance first with the beauty from the new nation.

"I guess you're right," muttered Oberyn to himself as he left Ellaria's side (the tent on his pants thankfully resting now) and weaving through the mass of bodies that are now starting the dance and the other males trying to reach the exotic beauty. Oberyn Martell isn't the viper of Dorne in name only.

"Greetings my lady," greeted Oberyn to the amused looking Princess who is watching the other men that is now hopping on one foot, courtesy of Oberyn. "Might I have the first dance?"

"And I haven't received the name of the one asking me to dance good sir," the black-haired beauty replied making Oberyn smirk as he grabbed the extended hand, leading her to dance floor trying not to lose his senses at the entrancing beauty in his arms. "Oberyn Martell of Dorne your lady, brother of Prince Doran and also known as…,"

"The Red Viper, notorious for your poisoned weapons and womanizing habits. Alya Black, daughter of Sirius Black and first princess of the Kingdom of Arnor at your service,"

"My reputation precedes me then," Oberyn grinned playfully. "I wonder though as to how you have come to know about me? I've been to many places around the world and I haven't heard anything about a kingdom of Arnor ever,"

"My father had just decided to lift our isolationist policy Prince Oberyn. He deemed our people ready now to face the outside world without fear of being conquered. So thus, here we are as my nation's representatives," answered Alya twirling in tune like roses on the wind as she kept up easily with the song, her slender body swaying. "And as for your first question Prince Oberyn, the First Sword of Braavos during our sparring is more than talkative when it comes to you,"

"You know how to fight?" Oberyn amusedly asked. The smile that greeted him is almost frosty as they reached the end of the dance.

"Among other things yes,"

"Interesting, I never thought I would meet a woman outside Dorne who would be interested on fighting," commented Oberyn in respect ignoring the cold tone just now.

"Now you have one," was the curt reply. "Do you have problems with it?"

"No, no," Oberyn laughed getting some stares as they finished the last few steps. "In fact you have my respect for that. Most women these days seemed like dolls and hens, so useless. But you've said that you have other talents yes, my lady?"

"Singing, dancing, painting, some stuff that a man like you would consider too girly for your tastes," answered Alya as she did the final twirld.

"You sing your Grace?"

"Among other things,"

"Would you mind showing me?" requested Oberyn grinning. "Someone as beautiful as you must have a very sweet voice. Do me this favor my lady and you would forever have my favor and gratefulness,"

"Hmmm…," Oberyn smiled as her face scrunched up. She looked terribly cute with that thoughtful expression. "Fine, I will. But bring me a harp first,"

"I will," the Red Viper of Dorne answered, letting go with a bow just as the song ended.

Ignoring the first telltale strumming of the next one, Oberyn strode to the musicians, scared half to death the minstrel holding the harp with his glare making every eye in the hall turn to him as the music stopped immediately. His boots echoed among the silent hall as he returned to an amused looking Princess of Arnor carrying the minstrels harp before falling on one knee and placing it on her feet.

"Let us hear your voice as you sing my lady," stated Oberyn formally faintly aware as Ellaria strode towards him shamelessly to kneel alongside her. "Let these halls hear your sweet song voice,"

"Since you requested so passionately Prince Oberyn Martell, how could I refuse such a heartfelt plea?" answered Alya signaling a servant to bring her a stool to sit as she placed the harp on her lap before taking a deep breath as gentle soft fingers strummed fluidly over the strings creating a resonance of music that filled the entire hall.

Immediately the hearts of everyone who listened are bound as the music cascaded bringing with it visions of a far off city gleaming in the distance, proud and strong rising like tower of white over a field of green. Mountains with peaks of snow rose in the distance giving the view an ethereal screen. And finally the mouth of Arnor's princess opened starting the song.

The Father's face is stern and strong,

he sits and judges right from wrong.

He weighs our lives, the short and long,

and loves the little children

The Mother gives the gift of life,

and watches over every wife.

Her gentle smile ends all strife,

and she loves her little children

The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go.

With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children.

The Crone is very wise and old,

and sees our fates as they unfold.

She lifts her lamp of shining gold

to lead the little children.

The Smith, he labors day and night,

to put the world of men to right.

With hammer, plow, and fire bright,

he builds for little children.

The Maiden dances through the sky,

she lives in every lover's sigh.

Her smiles teach the birds to fly,

and gives dreams to little children.

The Seven Gods who made us all,

are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Oberyn had been born under the light of the Seven, however as he grew up, he never actually believed in the gods he prayed at. He'd seen enough of the violence and cruelty of the world to believe in deities. The song he heard, he heard many time on septs and septons and septas more than he could count. It never moved him. However hearing it from Alya brought something out in him that he found himself once more believing on the faith he had long forgotted. The way her voice danced with the harp on her hand touched his very soul and he can't stop the tears that fell from his eyes. With every part of the Seven, he could feel each one of them as the words of the song resonance like a gong in his soul. Around him he could see other people reacting as he did. At his side Ellaria is holding on with a grip so tight that he's pretty sure his biceps would be bruised already.

Standing up, Oberyn stared deeply at the dark blue eyes that stared back. His hand moved and he barely noticed that he is the first one to clap among the entire people inside the hall.

..

..

..

AN:

So that's another chappie. Hope ya like it and more Oberyn later with Alya. We're going to meet with the Edain next chapter and the Riders of Mithrim. If you readers forgot, they are the ones who savled Alya's hide in Chapter One.

Just be patient for the rest of the story, readers. Don't worry, I had it all planned out already. I wont spoil it. Remember, this is Game of Thrones and well, some of what might happen maybe exttrenekt disappointing.

And no! It wont be a threesome. Alya will have her husband since she's a princess, but Elia will be there in a way hihihi.

Im surprised someone hypothesized that Benjen Stark would be Elia's husband. I never expected that. And lols, the Imp? Seriously?

Sirius will have his own queen later. However Im still debating whether I would have Alya had siblings or not.

PS: Please Review your opinions readers. The more the reviews, the happier I will be and more inspired.

Thank you for those who continued supporting this story. Im not a perfect writer and this is my 4th story only, so please bear with me on the mistakes a little. After all I self-taught myself English. So no ones there to guide me.

If you want to know the song, search Karliene, the Song of the Seven. That's what inspired me to write it.

*Chapter 6*: Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

Alya can't stop the satisfied sigh that left her lips as she plopped exhaustedly on the soft bed inside her ship. She had barely able to take a breath of relief once more when she felt something immediately enter her sex making her groan as the skilled hands of Ellaria Sand once more moved inside her. It didn't help that a rough hand immediately spooned her waist and the hot breathe of the Red Viper of Dorne breezed through her once more slowly hardening nubs on her chest.

"You two are so insatiable, you know that?" moaned Alya as Ellaria draped her own body atop hers, their breasts pressed over one another as Oberyn's hand that had travelled to mold her left teat are sandwiched between the two teasing their nipples.

"What can I say, you really are easy to please," the smug answer of Oberyn as he watched his Paramour trying her best to devour the entirety of the black-haired angel's lips even as her hand did wonders on the golden crevice between her legs. Biting his lip at the slightly glazed expression that the Princess of Arnor now bore as Ellaria shifted her attentions on the globes of the beautiful woman, Oberyn wasted no time adding his own fingers to that of Ellaria eliciting something between a squeak or a moan from the beauty beneath them literally causing her eyes to roll at the top of her head as she reached her completion.

"Oh you're so easy to please, Princess," teased Oberyn letting Ellaria lick his finger clean off Alya's juices who is panting like a tired virgin on her first time looking incredulously at his words. "For someone so beautiful that you could turn every head from Westeros to you, you're surprisingly very sensitive,"

How the three of them got into each other's beds, Oberyn doesn't know. All he remembered is after Alya's performance there is food, a lot of getting to know other people and dignitaries, the feast getting rowdier after lords got a little drunk now, he and Alya facing each other on a drinking game that both of them refused to give up until the Sealord himself intervened for them to stop before any of them fainted. Apparently they continued the challenge of outdoing each other Alya's quarters on her ship and Ellaria joined soon. And that's why they are here now.

"And I suppose this is how you two normally start your days?" asked a ruffled looking Alya sitting up on the large bed pulling the covers unto her chest making Ellaria pout who only went back to her nap now satisfied at making the Princess of Arnor squirm.

"Oh trust me, I could do a lot more if I want to give you a proper good morning if I want to," grinned Oberyn cheekily taking three glasses at the bedside table before filling it with Arbor gold that Alya's men managed to trade from Braavos.

Handing one to Alya and the other to his soon-to-be-paramour, he immediately made himself comfortable beside her, not caring the least about his nudity. Alya only raised an eyebrow at how carefree he is even as Ellaria now climbed at his lap to lay her head comfortably at his chest as nude as the day she was born.

"What?" Oberyn only asked innocently making said eyebrows of the princess rise even higher. "We at Dorne aren't too reserved like most. Or is it do you want to join? I'm sure Ellaria and I could make you scream at the next round,"

"I'd rather not," snorted Alya standing up making Oberyn glance at the magnificent backside of the princess before it was covered with her shifts and morning robes making him pout.

"Shame that the magnificent view is now covered,"

"Don't let Imrahil hear you saying that. He'll either cut off your eyes or your tongue for that comment," warned Alya despite saying it playfully.

"That protective huh?" Oberyn grimaced as he watched Alya drain her cup, placing it on the table before looking at him and Ellaria still looking so comfortable at Alya's bed.

"Yep, he views me as a little sister, so fair warning Oberyn, be ready when you get out of here and soon. I have something to show you in a few minutes. Trust me; you'll be glad if you won't miss it," and with that parting words, the princess of Arnor headed out making sure to wash her face and her hands on a basin before leaving through the door.

"What do you say love? Can we do it in five minutes before we follow her?" asked Oberyn at her paramour who only opened one eye in interest. "She did say we should follow her after all,"

"Three and I'll finish you off," answered Ellaria even as Oberyn felt her hands once more going south.

..

..

Prince Imrahil watched with amused eyes as her sister-in-all-but-blood appeared out of the small tent which served as the bridge of the Swan ship that is sailing lazily over the waters that would have made other sailors green with envy. He didn't fail to notice the slight limp that she is supporting nor the slightly pungent order following her around as she stood by his side smelling the sweet scent of the sea. Like all Arnorians, Alya enjoyed the smell of the waters. Every Arnorian no matter what the trade had the skill to sail and share the same love of the sea like their countrymen.

"Quite a busy night I see," commented Imrahil as Alya took the flagon of wine from a passing servant taking a deep drink from it. It's not the first time that he had been there to witness the princess' trysts. And he's also privy with her fascination of the fairer sex more than the correct ones she's supposed to be fascinated at.

"Oh shut it you. What happened while I was err…drunk and busy? And why in Eru's name are we sailing on open sea?!" asked Alya suddenly supporting a face close to near panic now as her senses got itself in order to notice that they're no longer in Braavos but in the waters overlooking the Braavosi Coastlands heading south.

"And why is there a ship bearing the banners of Dorne following us?" Alya continued her tirade not noticing the amused expression that Imrahil supported as she pointed at a ship in full sails, epicly failing on catching up to them despite the four fleeting Swan ships having one square sail compared to the three triangle styled ones of the Dornish ship.

"We've left Braavos already as you can see. I had to make the call, the men are finished up with their trading and we have collected the money and goods we earned, and even the Iron Bank is gracious enough to exchange our currency to one of that can be used everywhere. We're a little tight on schedule if we're going to Mithrim and I had to do the farewells at your place. I'm a prince, so nobody made that much of a fuss. The Sealord is even amused at how fast the Red Viper managed to get on your bed earning you a slot on his conquered women. A lot of boys are broken-hearted that night," explained Imrahil in amusement. "And as to why that Dornish ship is following us. It belonged to your bedmate and his…para-para,"

"Paramour," corrected Alya looking at the Dornish ship struggling to keep up with them. "Is it just me or are they struggling to keep up with us?" asked the princess earning a snort from Imrahil.

"Struggling of course, they wanted to test their mettle with us and they slightly….laughed that our ship design is too simplistic for their tastes and they didn't believe me when I told them that this white ship of ours can run circles over theirs,"

Alya only blinked muttering a small "I see," as she watched the ship in full sails trying to keep up with the quarter-open sail of the Swan ship. "And do they know where we are going?"

"For now, no," answered Imrahil. "But they are willing to sail with us until Prince Oberyn awaked finally at least and get their orders from him. I have explained the reasons for his and yours absence and they are willing to wait it out while traveling with us,"

"Okay, that is good news. Where's Selena and Athena?" asked Alya looking around for the two most noticeable members of their little expedition.

"Well they're currently hunting. They love the fish here on this part of the sea. But it's been an hour, I'm sure they're coming back alrea-,"

"Hello there!" Imrahil turned to look at a very satisfied looking Prince of Dorne walking side by side with Ellaria, his paramour. "Prince Imrahil," he bowed once in greetings making the lord of Dol Amroth return the favor. "You're looking particularly festtiii-AAAAHHHHHH!"

Everybody winced as the so-called Red Viper of Dorne and one of the most fearless men on this part of the world shrieked like a little lady alongside his paramour as two talons lifted them into the sky without warning, gaining attitude in a few flaps…and tossing them once more making the two scream like banshees as they freefall into open air only for another set of talons to grab them before repeating the process once more.

"Do you think that Dorne would declare war on us for this?" asked Alya watching the scene of the two Dornish being thrown around like paper by the Gryphons.

"Yes, no, maybe… We better send an owl for your father to marshal our forces just to be sure," nodded Imrahil as one particular high acrobatic throw caused Oberyn to reigurtitate the wine he must have drunk this morning into open waters down below.

..

..

Interestingly Oberyn took the experience in good humor and to add it only on his list as one of the bizarre experiences he had the luck to encounter in his years of adventure. Ellaria is on the same mind as he is, though it took an hour of session in the bed with Alya doing "pleasant things" with her that finally calmed the half-terrified Dornish woman. Now the five ships watch as they finally reached their destination, the docks of Mithrim where a small company of people is waiting for them on the small village.

"You know I never thought that I would one day go here you know," confessed Oberyn standing side by side with Imrahil and Alya while Ellaria remain at his arms that are encircling her waist. "The Edain has never been one to welcome strangers and despite many of the Free Cities are happy that they're occupying nearly half of Andalos as their own, they are still wary of them,"

"Reminds them too much of the Dothraki?" Alya asked.

"Yes,"

Despite herself, Alya can't help but snort at the comparison. Ironically, both the Dothraki and the Edain call themselves the Horse Lords, both people had many horses and fortunately that is where the comparison ends. Unlike the Dothraki who eat horse's meat, drink mare's milk, treat their horses simply as animals and live out their ways as barbarians. The Edain is their opposite. Like the savages, they rode horses too but unlike them, they are an orderly people and civilized despite their humble lifestyle of living. But what's important is they live up to their titles as Horse-Lords. The Edai treat their horses as one of their kin and it is rare to see an Edain, even the poorest without a horse for every person of them. They abhorred everything that the Dothraki represent and that caused a lot of friction between the two powerful people and would cause them to clash every now and then. The Dothraki had the numbers but the Edain knew how to forge scale armor and with the aid of the Arnorians on their isolation, armed them well that the Dothraki very seldom challenged them on the green plains of Andalos.

"So what can you tell me about them your Grace?" Oberyn asked not willing to risk rushing in once more without thinking. He learned that lesson the hard way when the Gryphon that had interested him so much, he taunted with fish for fun and nearly got his arm ripped off by its claws. Despite Alya's reassurances about the Edain, Oberyn can't help but feel wary about them. The term "horse-lord" after all is something to be feared greatly on this part of the world and heralded trouble instead of comfort in most accounts.

"What do you want to know?" asked Alya knowing very well the Prince of Dorne's reasons. If it had been anything less honest, she would never have acquiesced on telling him anything at all. The Edain after all is Arnor's only current military ally despite the two being so far away from each other.

"Well anything that can help me at all," shrugged the Red Viper with his Paramour leaning unto his shoulder listening on his every word. "I don't want to accidentally shit on some rock that might be sacred and get my head lopped off. I quite prefer it where it is right now. Tell me my friend, what do you know of these horse-lords?"

"Fine," answered Alya recalling everything that she heard about his father pertaining the Edain. "My father had been among them before even the kingdom of Arnor was found. According to him at least, they are proud and willful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs after the manner of the children of Men in the Dark Years before civilization came into being. But I admit, I do not truly know much about their minds, especially what has happened here of late with the countless battles they had against the savage Dothraki. They have long been my people's friends, killing slave masters and hunters of peddlers of flesh and they are our informants in our period of isolation. It was in forgotten years long ago that their ancestor, Hurin the Tall brought them out of theNorth from the Hills of Norvos and their kinship is more with the Wildlings of Westeros, just a lot more…refined,"

Oberyn only blinked at her explanation a little unbelieving and confused. "I see,"

To her credit, Alya only laughed patting Oberyn at the back.

"Don't worry Oberyn, they're civilized people. We Arnorians held ourselves with a little bit more of class after all and my father would never have been friends with them if they are savages like the Dothraki are. In fact there's a song about them in Arnor,"

"You made songs about them?"

"Oh yes we do," the black-haired Princess answered with a smile. "And they're quite good too for the ears,"

Before the Prince of Dorne could ask his next set of questions, the princess of Arnor once more sung openly out loud.

Where now the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk and the bright hair flowing?

Where is the hand on the harp string, and the red fire glowing?

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning?

Or behold the flowing years of the Sea returning?

Like usual, Oberyn is entranced by Alya's beautiful voice as his soul thrummed alongside her tune. Unlike the song she sang on Braavos that gives hope thanks to the theme that she sang. However right now, the song resonated sadness, mourning, struggle and above all, the strength of men that held on even against the worst of circumstances, the strength that he see now on the approaching green land that had held on against invaders, slavers and many more that wanted to conquer it. The strength that gives birth to the pillar that held this land together with everyone against them,…..hope.

"We're almost there," the voice of Alya brought Oberyn back to his senses as he now realized that they are almost at the harbor ends with a couple of golden haired men catching the ropes that the sailors of the Swan ship he is riding threw. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts from the entrancing spell on the voice of the Princess of Arnor, Oberyn waited for the docking to be finished with Ellaria standing beside him.

As he waited for the lines to be tied, Oberyn can't help but glance at his newly found friend standing far off with her own people and laughing alongside them. He can't help but be marveled at her. In this world, it is mostly patriarchal with the men being lifted high compared to women. Even in Dorne where the rules of succession are more practical and the view on women is at least a little better compared to the rest of the world, men are still looked as something higher than the females. To see a woman now leading her men as if it is natural as breathing to her, Oberyn is amazed. He had after all been taught with high standard when he's younger being a prince of Dorne and he is aware enough of the world to know that there are only two ways people will follow a ruler. Either he's feared or he's loved. And based on his own good judgement on the view he is seeing today, there is no sign of fear but love and respect for the Princess of Arnor. He made a mental note to travel back to Sunspear and inform his brother of this amazing person once his vacation here in Mithrim is done. It is rare to find a person with such a good skill on leadership and inspiration and rarer to be found on women. He just hoped that Doran isn't married yet by the time he gets back home. He'll be missing a fine wife and partner if he does.

Smiling with all teeth shown, Oberyn linked his arms with Ellaria as he strode alongside Alya and her guards to meet with the representative of Mithrim who had at least fifty guards with green capes and spears each wearing scale armors and looking none too friendly despite Alya showing them her sigil of Arnor. For some reason Oberyn isn't worried despite the mistrusting glares being sent his way.

How could he if those two oversized birds are right above them only waiting for trouble to be given an excuse to pounce?

..

..

So that's that. Another chapter done. Please Review. Give me your opinions guys and predicted scenes. It could help me revise the story in my head. I haven't fully planned this story out yet after all. I value your opinions.

-Seriously readers. You don't know the reason why Alya sang "The Seven as One". Think, come on. Its so easy. Use your brains. Exercise the most perfect muscle of all.

-Guys the religion on Dorne is that of the Faith. I checked on the wiki of GOT.

-No, Alya is not Mary Sue. She's just outrageously beautiful. Oh, did I ever mention that she's the one on the cover of the story?

-Next chapter would be meh…Im still thinkin about it.

-Yes there are Gryphons in Arnor. I mentioned that in Chapter 2 dinnit? Before anyone blows a gasket because of it, come on. There are dragons in GOT, surely Arnor breeding Gryphons won't be that much of a difference.

PS: Shall I add Oberyn Martell and Doran Martell as Alya's possible marriage candidates?

*Chapter 7*: Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

-Motto of House Black

..

..

A year after the First Contact of Arnor with the Free City of Braavos

Arnor! Arnor, between the mountains and the sea!

West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree

Fell like bright rain in the gardens of the Kings of old/

O proud walls! White towers! O winged crow and throne of gold!

O Arnor! Arnor! Shall men behold the Silver Tree?

Or West Wind blow again between the mountains and the Sea?

"Quite famous aren't they your Grace?" Rhaegar Targaryen, first born of Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen and Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms pulled his attention away from the singing bard towards the direction of the cloaked Master of Whispers looking like one of the smallfolk with the way his clothes are set up.

"Lord Varys, surprised meeting you down here," exclaimed Rhaegar moving from his position on the side-rail to make room for the eunuch to also sit down.

"I could also the same for you your Grace, it's not every day you could see the Crown Prince visiting the slums," replied Varys looking down at the gathered patrons on the inn now paying the bard for his next song.

"These are my people Lord Varys, what kind of heir to the throne would I be if I don't understand the hearts of my own people?"

"Indeed, that is a good character for a ruler your Grace, but still I'm sure that your father won't be pleased if he knows that you are gallivanting down here on Flea Bottom with only a single guard in tow… even if is Sir Arthur Dayne," this time Varys turned a discreet eye towards one of the dark corners of the tavern where a disguised Kingsguard is hiding looking over at them with his hand on the hilt of his sword on the right hip.

Rhaegar only chuckled as Varys returned his eyes back to his. "Nothing truly escapes you, does it Lord Varys?"

"I would not be the Master of Whispers if I don't know what's going on here at King's Landing your Grace. And besides I have something that I wanted to discuss with you that need to be addressed before we bring it to the small council tomorrow,"

"Does this have something to do with the Island Nation on the South that everyone is talking about?"

"Indeed your Grace,"

A day before a trade ship from Braavos arrived on the port of King's Landing to sell its wares as usual. Normally that won't even require attention of the higher ups on the crown, however the wares it brought with it does. Never before had the people on King's Landing saw anything like the ones it brought that day. Glowing crystals with white sheens that lasts for days making torches obsolete, food that they call "rice" which can be extremely useful with its preservative properties for the winter, and sculptures and artworks made in white marble, crafted in such skill that it puts to shame the ones that the Red Keep currently had. To put it simply, the trade merchant that brought the merchandise had left the port a richer man. But not before the agents of the Spider managed to pilfer the sources of his goods.

Apparently according to the papers they managed to pilfer, the trader managed to buy the goods from one of the merchants back at Braavos who bought it from one another group of sellers that managed to auction it from the rumors of this new island people that apparently everyone is talking about, except Westeros. How the agents of the Spider back at Essos haven't heard no one knew.

Now that word is known to the Mad King, the father of Rhaegar is summoning the small council to discuss more about these people and how it could affect the future of Westeros, especially since Westeros is closer to it with it only below south-west on the Summer Sea.

"So what do we know about them so far other than the fact that they have merchandise that could render most of the crafter's guild and the farmers here out of work?" ask Rhaegar plucking a few strings of his harp creating the starting tone of one of the familiar melancholy works that the Targaryen prince skillfully mastered.

"Well I've sent feelers to my little birds at Essos and so far they've given me their reports already. Other than the fact that they're considerably very successful as a people, apparently at least according to the rumors they also had a considerable military force and even successfully repelled bands of pirates and slavers that had tried breaching the Sea of Mists which seemed to be the natural borders of the Kingdom of Arnor. No one had seen their kingdom yet so far,"

"Not even traders?"

"Not even traders my lord. None but their ships that can manage to outrun the ones that trailed them easily know the way of the Sea of Mists and those that tried have never been seen again," answered Varys.

"Father won't like the news," muttered Rhaegar to himself as he stared at the smallfolk cheering the bard as he began another song.

"No he won't ," sighed the Spider. "And I just pray that he won't do anything rash that can endanger the realm,"

"Indeed," nodded Rhaegar in agreement. "We need to do something that can alleviate his paranoia that they are some sort of danger or else he'll try to burn someone again and hurt my mother,"

"What do you propose your Grace? Your father won't accept the solution of wait and see simply? He'll want to see something done by it?"

"Maybe we can send a couple of our nobles to get in touch with their merchants and maybe broker an agreement with whoever that rules them to treat with us here at King's Landing?" Rhaegar suggested. "It's not an immediate solution but it could postpone father's paranoia at the moment,"

"And if they ever agree your Grace?"

The Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms only sighed tiredly as he swept his hand over his silver locks tiredly before looking at Varys in the eyes.

"Then I believe that we're going to see a new player on the Game of Thrones,"

..

..

"Father, what did you do this time?" Alya asked amusedly as she stepped down from her personal Gryffin, Godric who immediately dashed to the sides of the wood to chase after one of the elfin nymphs who blew a raspberry at the massive avian creature who clawed the trunk in futile endeavor before changing directions as the said nymph appear at the trunk of another tree taunting it.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I woke up, took a walk around the gardens then lost consciousness before waking up like this?" said the esteemed ruler of Arnor as best as he could on his current position.

"Is that before or after you chased after the dryads again?" Alya only sighed at her father's childish antics when he got bored as she stepped forward and with one slash of her silver knife sending the king mummified upside down in sticks and leaves except for his nose and mouth to breathe crashing down in an undignified heap on the ground. One wave of her hand using a silent unbinding spell left Sirius Black still in his robes and crown groaning on the dirt.

"You know one day, the dryads are sure to bury you alive with the amount of time you're stalking them,"

"If it means being touched by beautiful women, definitely worth it," chuckled Sirius Black making his daughter roll her eyes at his childish behavior, whistling for Godric to stop chasing the giggling nymph and jump back to her side.

Arnor is not just home for the Arnorians. Yes, it is an island big enough for a lot of space and not only the Arnorians lived there. Apparently with the presence of Sirius and Alya magic that had remained dormant on the island awakened and with it, the creatures that feed on it. Nymphs of all kinds looking elfin in nature appeared out of nearly every rock and stone alongside fairies which flitted on the lush forests, small man-like fish creatures the size of a teddy bear emerged from the waters, satyrs dancing on the groves, dryads as beautiful as princesses and tempting as seductresses, phoenixes emerging from the fissure on the south singing their songs and water dragons the size of buildings looking more like serpents lived on the waters.

At first the citizens of Arnor panicked at the sight of these creatures and it took quite a bit of time for the current monarchy to calm them down. Thankfully most of them had seen enough of Alya's and Sirius' magic and have gotten quite used to it that the emergence of magical creatures did much to deteriorate their view on the new residents and cause them to raise up arms. It helped that the majority of the magical beings are rather friendly and welcoming in nature that the opinions on them improved drastically and it did not take long for the Arnorians to look at them as part of their society. It's very common now to see satyrs dancing with little children on the sound of pipe reeds with phoenixes joining the party.

"Come father, the other five lords are waiting for you. We had some business to discuss," ushered Alya at the pouting slowly faming king who immediately sat behind her daughter at the Gryffin's back making sure to hold on to her waist tightly as powerful wings immediately flapped twice taking the two airborne immediately.

"I still don't understand how you can stand riding the wildest of all Gryffin's Alya," protested Sirius as Godric in an unnatural bout of acrobatics twirled in the air happily sending off his thrilling cry that echoed on the green forests below.

"I'm Harry Potter before Father, surely you don't expect the youngest Seeker in the century to be simply doing simple moves airborne?"

"Good point,"

"Besides there is a reason I wanted to talk to you about before we reach Minas Tirith," said Alya knowing the real reason why he personally came here to save her father's ass from the dryads instead of sending out the servants and Tower Guard to help him out of his own made predicament.

"And that would be?"

"I've received word from one of my spies at Essos, apparently word about us has finally made it to Westeros and one way or another they would soon request a representative or an audience from us,"

"And that is a bad thing?" asked Sirius.

Alya only sighed as Godric banked on the mountain ranges with their polar caps as the headwind changed. "Normally it won't be but Westeros is ruled by a king that according to our reports is half-mad and obviously deranged, and whoever we send might fell into his idiotic clutches on being burned alive due to his paranoia before declaring war to us,"

Currently Westeros is the world power. Sure Essos is big and has more population and people than that of Westeros, however unlike Westeros with its seven kingdoms it is not united as one and the Free Cities that inhabit it are either fighting one another or fighting off the marauders and barbarians that endlessly ceased war on them. The continent of Yi Ti which is the next big thing on the other hand are too far and impossibly also filled with infighting princes vying to be the next Emperor. And that's the reason why Alya is worried, sure Arnor is powerful, especially since it is filled with magic, but Westeros can cause them no end of grief.

"We could always refuse," Sirius shrugged. "Even if they declared war on us, they would never get past the Sea of Mists and even if they do, our navy would be able to hold them off at the Argonath,"

"Indeed we could fight them off," answered Alya. "But our trading partners and Allies could not. That's the reason as to why I wanted to ask your permission father on being the one who would be sent as a representative to Westeros,"

"Sure, sure of course you'll do great and….WHAT?! NO! NO! AND FOR THE LAST TIME, HELL NO!"

..

..

"These so-called ice creams are really an awesome gift. Thank you Oberyn," Elia Martell, princess of Dorne and sister of both Oberyn and Doran Martell sighed contentedly as she spooned another spoonful of the mouthwatering food that she's currently eating that Oberyn had brought with him a couple of months ago from Essos. Apparently it's a parting gift from his new "friend" from this so-called Kingdom of Arnor that everyone is talking about right now.

She had never tasted anything like it before. It's sweet but it's cold at the same time. Elia Martell may be Dornish and the heat of the country does little to bother her, but she appreciated the cold beverages at the same time. How Oberyn got an entire three bags full back at Dorne without it melting along the way Elia doesn't know. Even Doran's daily box of ice can barely survive the trip sometimes.

"You're welcome sister," replied the Red Viper of Dorne fondly eating his own share under the shade of the palm trees on the outskirts of Sunspear that he and Elia is taking shade at. "I wish that you had gone with me on my travels. I've seen a lot of wonderful things that you can only imagine. From the great ruins of Valyria to the squabbling princes of Yin Ti,"

"I bet you do. And let me guess, other than seeing the sights, you spent half the time on the travel bedding women don't you Oby," giggled Elia reclining on her chair as Oberyn scowled at her calling of his pet name.

"Do you have to call me that? I'm older than you, you know,"

"But I'm more mature and that renders your argument invalid,"

"Hmm….good point. I'll let you win this round," Elia only giggled as she watched her older brother pout childishly as he took another spoonful of his own ice cream.

"So should I expect a sister-in-law soon?" the Princess of Dorne asked teasingly knowing very well that Oberyn is not one to settle down even though he had taken Ellaria Sand as his Paramour. To her surprise though, the said greatest bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms sighed in longing to the sky as if remembering someone important causing Elia to nearly drop her glass in surprise at his reaction. She and Doran had tried their best and failed epicly on convincing their brother the renowned sex artist to find a suitable wife. To see him now acting like he missed someone is something that Elia never expected on him.

"You're in love aren't you?" Elia questioned unable to take off the massive grin off her face as Oberyn cranked his head so fast at her direction that she could literally hear the "crack" on it.

"Am not!" he protested loudly making the guards that served as outlooks to stare at the rather high-pitched sound from one of Dorne's finest.

" Yes you are," Elia giggled feeling her sides hurt from laughing as Oberyn's face turned a nasty shed of red, the only proof that he's rankled by her questioning. "Your face said it all,"

"No I'm not! It's just the heat getting to me," reasoned the man going redder even more. "What made you assume that? I had no plans to settle down….ever. And besides, Ellaria will have my balls for breakfast if she knew that I plan to marry somebody,"

"Oh you and I both know that Ellaria would still remain as your paramour even if you are married. And I also know she won't mind. I've known Ellaria enough that she's willing to sleep with both men and women Oby," Elia reasoned out making Oberyn sigh.

"You're right, but I tell you Elia, this girl. She's different than the ones I've slept with. There are no words to describe it in fact. The closest that I could come up with it is….when I left her, it feels as if a part of me has left with her. Trust me Elia, you can't help but love that girl. I bet even you won't be able to resist her charms,"

Sipping on the thin cream on her spoon, Elia only smacked her lips before replying amusedly at her love-struck brother: "Well, maybe it would help if I would know first this mysterious person that can make even my wild brother settle down. Judging by the way you are inspired, we can still make a poet from you Oberyn,"

The immediate change of the face of her brother from one of dreaming inspiration to incredulous expression literally made Elia lose it as she burst out in peals of laughter making everyone in the vicinity turn at the direction of the laughing princess as she struggled to regain her cool and failing on it epicly much to Oberyn's annoyance.

The two however is disturbed from their bonding time as an entire platoon of soldiers bearing the marks of the House Martell led by a sergeant rushed past them towards the city docks. Oberyn of course who could spot trouble a mile away immediately halted the group, his hand going instinctively on his prized spear leaning on the porch of the tent the two of them are taking shade.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?" demanded Oberyn forcefully showing his side that made him the Red Viper of Dorne as he addressed the men. "Where are you taking these men?"

"To the docks my lord, the lookout have spotted ten ships bearing an insignia on their sails that isn't registered on our records and they don't look like merchant ships either. In fact the ships are so different in design than the ones we see and it looks like it's filled with soldiers,"

"What insignia are they flying Lieutenant? Did the harbor master tell you?" asked Oberyn tightening his hand on his spear at the thought of fighting pirates. No pirate had ever dared attack Sunspear, not since the days of Princess Nymeria. The itch of starting a fight almost made him giddy with both nervousness and excitement.

"Yes my lord. Their sails are painted in black with a silver tree with seven stones crowning it," answered the soldier.

For the first time in her life, Elia found herself watching his brother who had never been unfazed in his entire life freeze like a rock, his prized spear dropping like a piece of junk on the ground. His next words however she didn't miss.

"It's her,"

..

..

AN: Thank you for supporting this story readers. Please Review for my sake and inspiration. Next chapter would be more about Westerosand finally, the Mad King.

*Chapter 8*: Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

"Amazing place isn't it?" exclaimed Alya looking over the sand-like castle of Sunspear gleaming almost red under the light of the midday sun, the renowned tower that gave it its name looming over the ten Swan Ships as the horizon brightened.

"Well if you call buildings made of sand amazing then yes, they are amazing I guess," replied Lord Bors who alongside Sir Trystane the Tall had opted to accompany their princess on this journey alongside Prince Imrahil due to the regaling tales that the two kept on talking about when they returned to Arnor after their six month journey that made relations with the other countries outside the Sea of Mists.

The lords of Belfalas and Lebanin however in an underhand sneaky way is following discreet orders from King Sirius to make sure that no stupid prince or lord make any stupid marriage proposals to her beloved daughter. Not that the two would allow it in any way in the first place. Alya is beloved in all of Arnor and they would make sure that their princess would return at their homeland in once piece.

"Oh come on you had to admit it is. Did you even bother to read the papers I sent at your offices about the history of Westeros and its houses?"

"By papers, you mean the three large tomes the size of my wardrobe?" asked Trystane wincing as he remembered the large stacks at least three feet high waiting at his bed a week ago.

"Did you mean those absurdly large books that would take at least weeks for me to read?" Trystane threw a warning glance too late at his frank friend who also noticed his slip of the tongue too late as Alya whose face is beaming immediately fell at the realization that her gift to them haven't even been read.

If there was one flaw on their princess' character, it's the fact that she easily gets upset when her gifts or works isn't appreciated. Of course with her works and gifts almost exemplary in every way before she gave them, no one had cause to grumble against her. Only once did someone protest and that was only because he was drunk that literally reduced Alya to tears once she's sure that no one is present to see her. The poor idiot had then been introduced to the underwater cells of Minas Tirith, courtesy of Sirius once he heard of the incident and nearly drowned him if not for the five lords holding him back and reasoning that the moron is simply drunk.

Imrahil currently who is standing at the side who can sniff trouble a mile away are now walking towards them and Bors and Trystane, lords they may be panicked at the sight of the tall Prince of Dol Amroth. The man is the most overprotective of their princess next to Sirius and they can already see their future being thrown overboard into salt waters when the ropes being thrown over the side of the ship brought everyone's attention (including Alya's) as the Arnorian crew secured the ship at the side of the dock of Sunspear with the planks connecting to the white side hull of the Swan ship.

Before the formal entourage from Arnor with its Tower Guards could arrange themselves in a presentable way, a rather yellow blur in yellow with black polka dot designs jumped over the planks knocking two surprised sailors overboard and kicking a Tower Guard aside who is quick enough to level his spear as he approached the three of them in three great strides before pulling a surprised looking Alya in a tight hug.

"Princess!" chirped the tall man giddily jumping around as he held the rather smaller and lither form of Alya. "Never in my wild dreams did I expect to see you here. What are you doing here? How are you? Did you run into any trouble?" question after question he fired rapidly to Alya who must have recognized finally the identity of the bastard holding her since she laughed too.

"Why don't you put her down Oberyn and let the poor girl go before this lot turn you into a hedgehog with the amount of spears they are aiming at you," a rather serious but melodic amused voice sounded making every eye turn at the source, which is a rather beautiful tan-skinned female with a small petite frame and a beautiful smile adorning her face. It is plain obvious that she's obviously one of high birth with the way she held herself and the difference of quality her dress is compared to the rest of the smallfolk of Sunspear's population now gathered on the docks in interest at seeing the source of rumors the past few weeks.

"Right," still smiling Oberyn let Alya down before bowing at his waist in a flourishing manner at the Princess of Arnor looking formal and joking at the same time, something that only he can pull off. "Princess Alya, let me introduce you to my beautiful and charming older sister, Elia Martell," Oberyn waved at the seventeen year old Dornish who is still stuck between the beauty of a girl and a woman.

"Stand down," Alya ordered amusedly at her guards who had been caught by surprise and outrage at the sudden actions of Oberyn. She knew that if not for the man's sister distracting them, they would already have an international incident on their hands.

Making sure that the men of the Tower Guard and the Knights of Dol Amroth now fully lowered their spears (though some still look like wanting to eviscerate the smirking Prince of Dorne), Alya stepped towards Oberyn's sister quite amused at how revealing her graceful body is as she curtsied in her own dress of black and silver that hugged her slender figure too tightly showing to full effect her beautiful curves.

"Princess Elia, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Alya, princess royale of the Kingdom of Arnor,"

"A pleasure too Alya,"

As the daughter of Sirius however leaned to kiss Elia on the cheek as propriety demands for women here, she missed the sly look from Oberyn at the back and the mischievous one from Elia (who had been eyeing her quite ever since she first laid eyes on her) who changed the direction of her head at the last second planting her lips straight at Alya's unsuspecting ones.

..

..

Normally he won't be caught dead being seen running, but at the moment Spymaster Varys for the first time in his career as Spymaster for the King doesn't care as his stubby legs that isn't used on being strained huffed and puffed across the Red Keep from his solar feeling sweat fall down his bald head. He knew that if somebody else other than him delivered the news first, the Mad King would have him toasted on a spit over a barrel of wildfire. A spymaster who doesn't deliver news before anybody else is bad in the books of King Aerys Targaryen.

Reaching the end of another set of stairs from his accommodations, Varys ignored the curious stares of some minor lords and ladies currently here on the Red Keep on business and a small group pf knights as he struggled to regain his breathe that he looked more like Pycelle with the amount he is wheezing rather than his usual calm and confident self.

Taking the final turn that heads to the throne room, Varys can't help the sigh of relief as he leaned on one of the marble pillars to catch his breath. Normally at this time of hour in the afternoon, people would be lined up here waiting to have audience with the king. However thanks to the paranoia and rumors of the Mad King burning people alive in wildfire, many nobles took great pains to avoid getting into this room like a plague.

Making sure that his breathe is steady and regaining his usual composure despite the starting of small cramps on his legs from being exerted that much, Varys schooled his expression before walking past the covers of the marble pillar and straight at the Iron Throne.

As usual Varys despite maintaining the poker face he had can't help but glance nervously at the slowly being stacked wood in the middle of the throne room by servants milling around and trying to look as non-threatening and conspicuous as ever. The only sign that the Mad King is planning to burn someone alive….again.

Pushing down the shudder that threatened to show on his face, Varys strode calmly to the steps of the Iron Throne where the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen is talking with the Head Pyromancer of the Alchemist's Guild while wearing his familiar pleased expression every time he orders more Wildfire.

"Your Grace," bowed Varys making sure to avert his eyes from the Mad King until the man waved off the Pyromancer before gesturing for him to spear. The only reason Varys knew that he was allowed this much leeway from the demented man is because he provides information about men that the Mad King could hunt down and burn alive. Of course Varys does his best that said information are those that can harm the realm.

"What is it Master of Whispers. Do you have news of another fool plotting to take out my throne?" cackled the man insanely making a sweat drop from the side of the eunuch's face at the sound.

"No your Grace, but I have brought news that would require your attention. My little birds at the South are chirping that the crown Princess of Arnor which you told us to make contact in any way possible is at Dorne at Sunspear, treated as guests of House Martell. I thought you ought to know your Grace?"

..

..

"Prince Doran, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,"

"Your grace, on behalf of Dorne, I bid you welcome into Sunspear. Forgive my little brother for not knowing properly the decorum of formality. I did my best on him, but he always never listened," replied Doran from his chair with a small smirk at Oberyn who had walked behind Alya and alongside Imrahil.

"It is no problem your prince, his over excessive of bounding enthusiasm more than made up for the stiff requirements of formality," smiled Alya looking at a pouting Oberyn. "Forgive me for not starting Prince Oberyn, my name is Alya Black, crown princess of the Kingdom of Arnor and with me is our Lords Imrahil of Dol Amroth, Bors of Lebanin and Trystane the Tall of Belfalas,"

"It is an honor to meet you my lords," bowed Doran Martell in return at the others wincing a bit at the movement on his wheelchair as the gout on his body took its toll. "I'm sorry if I can't stand up and formally greet you my lords. But my illness had been taken a toll on me,"

"It is no problem Prince Doran. Maybe later we could let our physician take a look on you. Maybe she could help,"

"I thank you for that Your Grace. I have prepared a feast for you later in the evening and some rooms where you and your company could rest. The entirety of the Water gardens is also open to you, your Grace. Feel free to wander at your will your Grace,"

"I'll take you up on that offer Prince Doran. Let me freshen up and rest for a while and my men to settle down,"

"Of course," nodded the ruler of Dorne. He's surprised though as his younger sister stepped beside Alya, interlocking their arms while smiling broadly at the same time.

"I'll take them to their rooms' brother," and no longer paying attention to him, Elia Martell half-dragged, half-pulled the Princess of Arnor much to said person's surprise over the corridors heading to the tall tower, which is the seat of House Martell chatting amicably about Sunspear and the beauties it offer.

Doran may not show it but he can't help but be worried. Elia maybe fun-loving and carefree, but her sister is never interested in people. Now seeing her so close to Alya Black, Doran can't help but be worried. He made a mental note to talk to Oberyn and her later after the feast.

..

..

"So how did you find your room?" Elia asked thirty minutes later excitedly as the Princess of Arnor stepped out of her room dressed in a formal white dress with no designs that hugged her slender figure.

When Oberyn had described the girl he liked in such a vivid manner, Elia had expected that the person that her older brother is describing is simply a whore he had come to like or even a daughter of a highborn house, however she never expected that the one he is meaning is a princess of all things and a soon-to-be-queen of all things.

His words also did not come close to the beauty of the woman in front of her. Elia had seen her entourage and she would be an idiot not to admit that all of them are in one word, beautiful, both men and women. She won't be surprised if her brother alongside his paramour isn't already picking their pick and planning which and how to bed these new people without causing too much a fuss. Whereas the entourage of Alya however is beautiful, they did not compare or even come close to the beauty of their princess. If compared, it would be like comparing the beauty of the stars and the sun. If beauty would be the reason that a nation would go to war for, she would the representative of such beauty. Elia herself can't help but be enamored by her and that's saying something. She's interested in girls not boys.

The only thing that's stopping her is her gender and duty to her position. Elia like her brother, Oberyn and all of Dorne are quite open about being intimate with the same sex. However Elia unlike her brother also knew that she cannot have the same freedoms as he does about fucking anyone she wanted. She is the Princess of Dorne and their current…treasure that is soon to sell on the highest bidder. Of course ever since she was young, she had expected that fact. Her father had not sugar coated that truth before his untimely disguise. And now as much as she knows that no matter how much Doran loved her, he would always put the future of Drone first before hers. She would be wed to some man she didn't know for the sake of the country and that's also the reason why her virginity is so important.

"My lady, are you alright?" the bell-like voice of Alya brought Elia's thoughts back to present and she mentally cursed herself for zoning off while facing their guest. Shaking off her not so innocent thoughts for the beautiful gem in front of her, Elia simply plastered the best smile she could in her arsenal as she faced Alya once more.

"Forgive me your grace; I'm just appreciating your beauty. I've never met anyone as beautiful as you are before," complimented Elia truthfully as she interlocked their arms once more before going down the steps of the guest rooms. She didn't fail to notice two of Alya's guards with winged helms follow them down the steps far enough to not disturb them, but near enough to act if their princess is in danger.

Alya on the other hand as she walked arm in arm with Elia can't help but blush a bit at the praise, quite thankful that the sixteen year old princess of Dorne is not looking her way. It also gave her time to appreciate the pretty sister of Oberyn. Unlike the people she met on her travels, the people here on Dorne are less conservative and seemed to love showing off as much skin as possible without being too vulgar. The dress they used themselves is made of silk (especially the women) and does little to hide them. It took an effort for Alya not to peek at the slowly developing cleavage of the girl at her side.

"Thank you, you don't look to bad yourself princess. I'm sure that many would soon come in droves asking for your hand in marriage," replied Alya diplomatically quite surprised at the sudden wince that appeared on Elia's face though for only a second as she regained her usual pleasant one.

"You flatter me your Grace, you're too kind. Come join me in the Water Gardens," answered Elia cursing herself once more for losing it as she is reminded of her role on this world.

As the two reached finally the end of the tower stairs and entered the first of the pillars of the Water Gardens, Elia can't help the blossom of pride as the face of the Princess of Arnor turned to wonder at the sight of the watery achievement of Sunspear. She could see some of the minor nobles wandering around looking at them with curiosity with their own guards and she almost giggled out loud on comparing the guards of Alya with the ones that are roaming around or are guarding the lords and ladies. Compared to the Arnorians, they almost look like little boys playing with sticks. It didn't help that the two are at least half a head taller than them.

As Elia is busy comparing the guards, Alya on the other hand is impressed at the place. It truly is a marvel seeing so much water for a desert country that is not used for drinking. She had to admit, the Water Gardens are beautiful. It had a touch of both the Greek columns and curvy architecture alongside a reminder of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. All in all it is a peaceful place. Something that Alya could really appreciate.

Looking at Elia who met her eyes, the princess of Arnor can't help but smile. Having a beautiful girl at her arms is just a bonus as she let her mind relax with the pleasant company.

..

..

..

AN: So that that. More fun next chapters. Please Review readers.

PS: Alya's age is 20, and Elia's is 16 in my story. The Tourney of Harrenhall won't take place until the next two years. Oooohhh.. he's gonna burn Alya.

PS: Suggestions on who to wed Sirius? Im thinking Lady Ashara though that's ewww….in a lot of ways. She's so young at this time. Maybe Queen Rhaella in a secret relationship? That would be no Dany though and that's bad. Gaarrr! Im having a headache.

PS: Alya, baby or no baby from Oberyn? Thoughts….thoughts. It would be unique though.

PS: Show off Gryphons or not? I wonder how the Mad King will react.

PS: Yes…..they had a dryad with them. And Oberyn's going to have his butt kicked.

PS: Ideas on how to describe Elia in words? First time here in GOT remember?

PS: Drop a group of mermaids in Sunspear Waters? Thoughts…thoughts.

PS: Drop Water Dragon in Dorne? That would cause a heart attack for Doran. Thoughts…thoughts.

THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT READERS. 145 REVIEWS lols Im so happy. Never thought this would hit. In fact I think this story sucks.

*Chapter 9*: Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

The past five days ever since they came into Dorne, Alya could only call interesting after the welcome feast that Doran had given them and Alya assured him clearly that she's simply here on vacation and to create good relations with his country. Of course it helps that she had brought with them large amounts of mead in barrels as a gift in exchange for their welcome. To say that the strong drink is a roaring success would be an understatement. She never expected that the calm and serious looking Doran Martell would dare to match his impulsive and carefree younger brother in a drinking contest drink for drink. And she was more surprised that he won against Oberyn after the tenth drink and that was saying something since Doran still looked very sober whereas Oberyn was already swaying like a pendulum before falling flat on his back snoozing.

She had to admit that her stay here despite ending soon is enjoyable. With Oberyn around it never gets dull; both in the sex department and the amusement one. As she expected, the famous bachelor of Drone didn't waste any time flirting with her handmaidens and some of the female soldiers that accompanied her as her official guard this trip. And as she also expected, said man received a black-eye and a thunderous kick to the groin from a very irate dryad who had been one of the subjects of his infatuation when he peeked on her when she was bathing on one of the oasis on the Water Gardens and thought it a good thing to join her without her permission. He had been sent to the Maester's care for two days after that. He also never missed a night joining her on her bed, with his new paramour in tow despite the warning glances from Imrahil and even after Bors beat him black and blue on the training yard as his sign of displeasure of him fucking Alya to a comatose state of pleasure every night.

Alya also had bettered her relations with Princess Elia Martell. She would never admit it to anyone but she found the princess of Dorne fascinating. She's beautiful, with a soft smile and looks lovely with those doe eyes of hers. More than once Alya entertained the thought of bringing her to her bed. During her many trysts with Oberyn, the Red Viper intoned enough that Elia won't be bothered sleeping with the fairer sex. In fact if the subtle hints of her brother are correct in her reading, he's convincing Alya slowly to bed his sister for some reason. And Elia's also the only person in Dorne that Alya didn't legilimens for some reason. That baffled Alya more than she wanted to admit. Fucking anyone is one thing, but being attached to another person is a big risk; especially one that is of noble stock. The portrait of Sirius' mother had warned her enough about letting people close to their heart too much. It causes much pain and suffering. And sometimes it can lead to…..death.

Shaking the negative thoughts off of her mind, Alya instead focused on the scene in front of her. Currently she is sitting on the private waterside villa belonging to the Martells and is enjoying the suns rays touching her skin as she laid down on the couch provided by the servants with Elia Martell sipping some of the ice cream and iced tea that Alya had brought with her from her ships, preserved through freezing charms in their coolants. A few paces away also sat Doran on another recliner with two of his guards chatting amicably with Freya, Alya's Dryad handmaiden that punched Oberyn after his failed flirting. Apparently Doran is a green thumb himself and can relate to the Dryad's love of plants.

It had been amusing to see the expressions of the royal family of Dorne after Alya showed them her "gifts of partnership" that would help bind the two nations together greater than intermarrying, trust. Said gifts of partnership are none other than a long serpentine Sea Dragon, half the size of the tower of Sunspear and sixty mermen and mermaids that are adventurous enough to agree on migrating the safe waters of Arnor. They are the signs that Arnor is willing to trust Dorne with the magical creatures (especially the water dragon) that could safeguard Sunspear's waters. No pirate would dare approach the shoreline within ten leagues. The dragon will make sure of that. And since the mer-population is mostly females, it had been amusing to watch Oberyn and some of the guards try their luck on flirting with the experts on the said art that caused more than one unlucky Dornishman to crash headfirst in the waters in a silly manner. Not that it stopped them from trying. Frankly it surprised Alya that majority of Sunspears' citizens didn't freak out at the sight of the magical creatures other than the Maester who for some reason seemed perturbed before running off. Alya still had to read his mind the next time she sees him. Doran had given his word to protect the creatures as best as he can and formalized a treaty of peace and trade then with Arnor

For now Alya just enjoyed sunbathing under the palm trees with her guards watching over her while trading small talk with Elia as the two of them watched amusedly Oberyn holding on to one of the fins of the serpentine Sea Dragon diving up and about on the waves. He had accepted Elia's dare to hold on to the fins of the dragon until sun-up. Currently, the Red Viper is now half-drowned for the first five minutes and looked ready to give up but still held on.

Alya was just about to call out more encouragement alongside Elia to him when a guard appeared holding a piece of paper and handed it to Doran who immediately frowned with his eyes making a stormy expression as he closed the paper. Excusing herself from Elia, Alya walked towards Doran sitting beside the troubled-looking Prince of Dorne.

"Ill news Prince Doran?" inquired Alya making sure to cast a mild loyalty spell to make him more amicable on spilling whatever it is that changed his mood.

"It is, Dorne's internal problems simply your Grace. One of our vassal houses had been rebelling even before you got here. I have sent my best men and Sunspear's host to…capture their liege lord and they have been sieging their stronghold for some time since they refused my summons. Apparently a storm is brewing on the horizon and my men need to pull out in the next five days and break the siege which would not only lead for the rebellious house to show that they have won, but it would also prove that House Martell is weak and can't control its rebelling vassals," explained Doran clutching the small paper in anger. Not even noticing that he had just spilled Dorne's private secrets in front of a Dryad maid and a princess of another realm (despite being Dorne's new ally).

"If I may ask my lord, what House is it that is troubling yours?" asked Alya watching as the Water Dragon finally shook Oberyn free causing said man to fly high in the air turn once….twice…and thrice, before flopping in a very inelegant manner on the waves.

Doran just sighed as he also watched the dragon who seemed to chuckle at the sight of the defeated floating Oberyn before answering heavily.

"House Uller your Grace,"

..

..

Imrahil wanted nothing more than to scream at his liege at the moment. They are at the third day of their riding towards the wayward house that is troubling House Martell. What prompted her sister-in-heart to volunteer their help "freely" mind you to these sand loving people he never knew. But if his hunch is right, maybe it was because she is freely fucking that Red Worm guy (ahem2x Red Viper) and her sister. He didn't fail to miss the knowing looks that Alya is throwing around the princess of Dorne. He had a sister himself and she had that look before he married Trystane the Tall.

Looking at the five hundred men that are following riding with them eagerly despite wearing Arnorian armor in the middle of the desert, he can't help but notice the eager looks on their faces. Most of them have little to no experience in real combat and he wondered if they would be up to it once the killing starts. They're supposed to be guards for this diplomatic meeting, not heading off to war. Not that he's worried. Fifty of his Knights are riding with them and another thirty of the Tower Guard will make sure that Alya is safe even in the thick of battle. They would rather lose an arm than allow harm to befell the Royal family. The rest however are skilled, there's no questioning that, but he would hold his judgement until they're finally winning. Trystane and Bors both held his worries and they made a mental note to tell Sirius the moment they returned to Minas Tirith. Only he can rein in his willful daughter.

"We're here," the voice of Oberyn Martell who had been literally ordered by his brother to lead the column alongside a thousand Dornishmen to aid the sieging army spoke out clearly echoing along the entire line making it stop as they peered at the castle in the middle of an oasis surrounded by rows of tents bearing the flags of House Martell. If not for the fact that he'd been informed that this is a siege, Imrahil would never have noticed it. The attackers are doing nothing, staying out of arrow shot range and the defenders are more than happy to stay inside their keep.

"Why are your forces not attacking?" asked Alya urging his horse to step beside Oberyn who bore none of the usual cocky attitude he had, but a stern expression that showed how deadly he can be in battle. Frankly it is a side that Imrahil would have respected if he met Oberyn like that for the first time.

"The walls are at least twenty feet high your grace and made in solid rock. The gate is three inches of cold raw steel covered by a second gate of pinewood that protects it from the ram. The castle is also placed in an elevated level and the defenders had poured water over the slope making it impossible for our troops to focus a coordinated attack that would allow us to reach the gate despite our greater numbers. A direct confrontation is currently out of the question for many would die on such an engagement. So we chose to starve them out. My men had already blocked the springs that lead to the underground spring water that provides House Uller with something to drink. Sooner or later they would surrender to thirst than to hunger,"

"I see," nodded Alya. "But your men are also suffering the same thing. An army that stays in one place is an army that starves and the longer this siege goes, the longer the money would be spent on it. I believe I can help you out win this siege Prince Oberyn in a day. So what do you say?" asked the Princess of Arnor with a mischievous grin making Imrahil mentally groan. He knew that look, one that promised mischief and trouble for anyone it is aimed at. He almost felt sorry for the Ullers.

"Alright I'll bite. Our resources are yours to command your Grace. What do you need?" asked Oberyn a bit sarcastically showing that despite his curiosity, he didn't believe Alya that much but was simply humoring her.

"Easy, a dozen pig's bladder of sacks, ten barrels of oil, every man that can wield a bow despite badly and a battering ram," answered Alya looking at the gate. "We're gonna take down that gate today,"

..

..

"Push! Push!" the sound of battle raging echoed around him and for the first time, Trystan the Tall, the lord of Belfalas cursed as he took cover on a mud rising, his hand never leaving his bow as he arrows whizzed everywhere, may it be from the bows of the Dornish and Arnorians or the exchange fire from the Household guard of House Uller.

"Come on men put your backs into it! Push!" roared Oberyn covered in mud and grim as he took his place with the men pushing the large battering ram covered in a makeshift cover of shields above and at the front as they struggled over the muddy path heading towards the castle even as nearly every Dornish that knows how to shoot a bow struggled at its left and right, moving alongside it. The attack had started an hour ago at Oberyn's command and his princess' plan. Many had objected first that an outsider is making the plans until at least Oberyn poisoned the nearest idiot making him turn green from the wound inflicted by the Viper's spear before almost dying when the Prince of Dorne gave him the antidote. None had dared protesting after that.

"Hey archer! I'll see you tonight, don't get killed today!" laughed Oberyn loudly taunting Trystane making the said lord scowl sending two arrows in succession causing two of the crossbow wielding guards at the parapets falling down.

"Don't forget what would happen if I had the more kill count little man. It'll be my pleasure to take your money off of you," replied Trystane as he knocked another two arrows. Oberyn only laughed at his reply before returning the urging to the Dornish pushing the battering ram to put more of an effort to bring the battering ram to the gates closer.

Just as Trystane is ready to lose another pair of arrows, the sound of cavalry approaching made him turn only to see Alya in her own Arnorian armor wearing no helmet riding forward past struggling Dornish and the every now and then Arnorian grabbing a flag of House Martell from a surprised banner man as she rode past men, arrows and barricades of the enemy. With her the Tower Guard rode and he could see that they're as worried as he is about their princess' recklessness.

"Shit! Move up! Cover the princess!" roared Trystane abandoning his hidey hole as he ran passed the slope, his black cape being mired by mud, his men struggling after him. The Dornish archers seeing the brave royal charging headlong into the front gates without self-preservation inspired something on them as they became less arrow-shy and charged with the rest of the Arnorians trying to cover their archers with the large rectangular shields with the sigil of the white tree and seven stones on it.

"Cover fire! Cover fire! Damn it!" roared Trystane loosing his arrow on the walls above even as the man beside him fell with three crossbow bolts on the chest. "Barricades forward!"

Makeshift shields of wood and metal pieced together stood in formation covering the archers even as they returned fire on the walls. Arrows whizzed everywhere and Trystane can barely see Alya plant the Martell flag on the wooden part of the gate before riding back in the safety of the barricades.

"Raise barricades!" ordered Alya causing the large squares of cover to move upward making the unlucky chosen men before the start of the attack, miscreants, lazy squires and unwanted servants ran forward with metal hooks and pig's bladders filled with oil at the gates braving the arrows.

Two immediately got killed by arrows and bolts but the rest ran forward climbing over the metal gate, planting their hooks on its crevices and hanging the pigs' bladders before running back to the safety of the line. That was perhaps the bloodiest part of the plant. One runner got his head smashed by a rock spilling his brains; another got hit in the chest causing him to stumble in the mud screaming before another set of arrows silenced him permanently. A fire arrow struck one of them sending the man screaming as his body touched by oil erupted in flames causing him to be burnt alive. One more fire arrow hit a puddle of dropped pig's bladder sending two of the runners to stop their sprint making them standing targets for the bolts. Their screams are haunting to hear.

Still, the plan is almost finished.

"Fire arrows!" yelled Alya on her horse as Arnorians stationed on the barricades immediately lit their ammunitions on the carried braziers before returning to their positions. "Barricades raise! Knock! Draw! Loose!"

Dozens of fiery blurs left immediately the lines heading straight for the pigs' bladders filled with oil. The effect is instantaneous. Nearly everyone is thrown off their asses at the explosion that followed as fire literally engulfed the entire gate throwing the outer steel gate inside crashing to the second one and damaging it severely. The archers of House Uller stationed at the parapets are consumed by the flames and bodies went flying burnt to crisp as the flames head upward causing the other men to panic as the unexpected inferno wreaked havoc on their soldiers.

"UNBOWED! UNBENT! UNBROKEN!" roared Oberyn his voice ringing clear on the air as Dornish men cheered with the morale going high, chanting House Martell's words.

"WE BELIEVE! WE ACHIEVE! WE SUCCEED!" the Arnorians cheered in return as they aided the men pushing the battering ram to the almost wrecked second gate with barely an arrow or stone hindering them.

"Heave, push!" all it takes is five booming strikes of the massive ram before its metal head point in the image and craft of a spear finally broke through the wooden second gate of House Uller's castle throwing the gates wide open with splinters flying inside causing havoc to the household men waiting on the gates.

"Kill the traitors and oathbreakers!" roared Oberyn as men dropped the ram and grabbed their spears and weapons.

Bolts and arrows immediately met the invading force but instead of meeting flesh, metal broke against the stronger Arnorian wall of steel as Knights of Dol Amroth led the charge inside, their steps coordinated and not rushed moving in a wall of death that immediately panicked the defenders as bolts and arrows proved ineffective. Their hesitance proved their undoing. From the sides of the Arnorian soldiers rushed in the levies of House Martell catching the enemy off guard as the battle on the courtyard is filled with sounds of men dying and fighting. Trystane saw Imrahil charge with Oberyn inside leading his knights leaving him to defend their princess. He's about to sigh now that the worst is over when he espied a crossbowman at the wall hefting his weapon even with an arrow through his chest and back too late.

The crossbow fired and Trystane saw in an abrupt flash the bolt fly and hit straight and true…right at the royal princess' exposed neck causing her to stumble from her horse with a grunt and fell to the ground, her blood flying in the air. And there she lay unmoving, whilst blood pooled from her neck.

"PHYSICIAN!"

..

..

Blood splattered even as the man's scream silenced to nothing as Imrahil stepped over the last of the dead body on this hall. Around him he could see his silver armored men finishing the rest of the wounded Uller men moaning on the ground with their spears leaving none alive. He himself wiped his sword over the clothes of the dead man at his front. This is not battle, this is massacre. He had been assigned this portion of the castle to ransack and clear after the courtyard is finished by Oberyn's men.

Imrahil could feel nothing but disgust for these people. He had been past three rooms already and each of them is filled with nothing more than torture devices. Old blood stains still marred the floor and even fresh ones. Rotten small bits of body parts is also present causing one of the knights to vomit as they passed what seems to be a human eyeball still.

Now they are at the last of this horrendous rooms and the Lord of Dol Amroth made a mental note to tell Oberyn to burn these rooms when something at the side of an alcove caught his attention, a lever of some kind. Motioning for his knights to ready their weapons once more, Imrahil grabbed his own sword as he pulled the lever ready for any surprises that might come.

It had a surprise alright.

The entire room shifted and if not for the quick thinking of most, they would have fallen as the knights of Dol Amroth skipped back to the door where the floor remained unmoving. Still, Imrahil watched in fascination as old pulleys and levers opened the entirety of the floor replacing the grey stone with sand leading to a black floor in the middle. And there on the middle of the room are two posts is a person looking like her late twenties, a pair of violet and amethyst eyes opened weakly, silver hair falling at her back with a slim figure and hundreds of scars and wounds marring her body, the red and black leather armor she wore almost non-existent showing her modesty. Blood red runes surrounding the black stone and pillars shone once and died finally making the woman tied on the posts with cruel spiked chains roll her eyes to a dead faint with her chest raising forward making Imrahil gasp at the sight of her sigil.

His sword, Seasong fell at the ground with a clang as he knew her at his studies and her emblem of three dragons. It had been the foundation of this seven kingdoms of Westeros ever since.

Finding his voice once more, Imrahil stepped forward to the chained woman and spoke in a broken voice that is barely as loud as a whisper.

"Rhaenys Targaryen?"

..

..

BOOM! And there's the surprise! Lols hope ya like it, More fun next chapter. Hihihi I bet you didn't see that coming did you? Hihi Please Review.

PS: Hope ya like the battle scene. Sorry if Im not that good with fluff hihihihi Besides I focus more on the story than in the romance.

Next chapter spoilers

PS: Mad King Aerys denied, choices on who he would burn, Varys or Tywin?

PS: Alya goes back to Arnor and undergoes…a change…a very sexy change.

PS: Elia goes with her.

PS: Sirius declares war on the Mad King.

PS: Rhaenys will be healed and awakened.

PS: Tywin rounds up the mermaids.

PS: Edain king makes a presentation.

PS: Events that would lead to the Tourney of Harrenhall will start.

PLEASE REVIEW READERS.

*Chapter 10*: Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

Doran Martell groaned unhappily as another rather large wave hit the side of the boat moving it causing another wave of nausea to rise in him. He imagined that if he looked at a mirror right now, he would be seeing his face in a vivid shade of green. There's a very good reason as to why Doran is the ruler and Oberyn is the adventurer. Other than the fact that he had a serious disease of gout in his bones, Doran is prone to road sickness and worse, sea sickness. Of course being the next ruler of Dorne, his parents tried extensively to hide that fact from anyone other than their immediate family. It won't do well for a ruler to be given a reason to be mocked and laughed by his subjects after all. As it is, the Prince of Dorne could literally count in his two hands the number he had left the hot sands of his country.

Another wave hit the right deck of the Swan ship Doran is in forcing the wheel-chair of the Prince of Dorne to move nearly causing said Prince to shriek like a girl in fear. Unable to control his raging stomach any longer, Doran immediately grabbed the moleskin that the Arnorians gave him before he boarded and practically burped out the entirety of his lunch not caring about public appearance any longer. He's sure the Tower Guards assigned to him are snickering, despite the stoic face they're maintaining.

Imrahil who had been in charge on this current journey are pushing the Swan ships as best as he could, making the week trip into two days past the Summer sea and Summer Isles as they hurried back to Arnor. Doran can't fault him, Alya is in critical condition and only the magic of that Dryad "thingy" is keeping her from completely losing all her blood from the throat wound she had.

And that's the reason why Doran despite his large misgivings had braved these seven hells of a journey. Alya had been on their halls and keep when she had come to them as an ambassador for her people. Doran had lost count the number of times he beat himself mentally for allowing Alya to join in the internal problems of Dorne despite it succeeding and her volunteering. With her wounded, the situation between Arnor and Dorne is at a thin thread. He knew nothing of this people and how her father would react once knowing that her daughter is almost killed on a campaign that Doran sanctioned. Wars have been fought for reasons less. And he would never allow Dorne to tangle with Arnor if he could.

After House Uller had been put down, the Arnorians lost none with only a few wounded while the Martell soldiers had fifty-two men dead and another hundred wounded with half of that never be able to hold a weapon again. That is saying something since during the forefront of the attack; the Arnorians had been the ones at the front. They simply had better armor and better training, something that Doran didn't fail to notice. It'd be best if he's here to explain things than to let heresay and rumors be the one that Alya's father believe and cause a bloody war.

Doran just sighed as they final entered the famous Sea of Mists that is the borders of the Arnorian Seas. It's a good thing that Elia had gone with him; else his problem would be ten times worse.

..

..

Tywin Lannister, warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock winced despite his cold facade as the mad king threw the glass he is drinking on the floor with a crash that echoed along the halls of the Red Keep filled with Dragon Bones. If not for the fact that he's the Hand of the King, Tywin would have been trying his best not to be put in this situation currently. Being in front of Aerys Targaryen when he's as mad as this is potentially hazardous for anyone in the vicinity with the probability of him or her being burned alive.

"You told me you've sent your fastest riders on Dorne Tywin! I want that girl taken and brought here for questioning! How did she leave?!" demanded the skulking figure in front of them, his spittle practically flying on his every word.

"They left without warning your Grace," replied Tywin sagely knowing that soothing words is best required now in the current situation instead of his usual cold and stern one. "Even the fastest horse from King's Landing won't be able to arrive in Sunspear in a matter of weeks. My men have ridden as fast as they could without killing the horses to bring your invitation but the princess of Arnor haven't stayed there enough before my men could get to her,"

"Bah! Excuses! Excuses! Your men are seemly pathetic, like all you Lannisters. I want all of them brought here tomorrow to be judged for their incompetence," spat Aerys looking half-deranged as he gave the order.

"Yes your Grace," Tywin simply bowed trying his damnest not to show his gritting teeth. Those men are loyal to him and handpicked by him personally. He would get a lot of negative feedback he's sure once Aerys is done with the farce of a judgement before burning them. Still, it's better they than him.

"Wait," Tywin stiffened as the piercing mad eyes of the nutty king turned on him. "Maybe they aren't too blame, maybe it's you, you sneaking lion! You're obviously conspiring with Dorne to take me down from the Iron Throne aren't you? And now you're allying with backwater savages to come and kill me and the dynasty I am building! You can't! I am a Dragon! I cannot be burned! However you will burn Lion!" declared the Mad King laughing uproariously and Tywin for a moment was sure that his end will come in flames as the Mad King turned to his Kingsguard to give the order when Varys who is standing beside Tywin came to his rescue just in time.

"Perhaps Lord Tywin is speaking truthfully your Grace," interjected the only man that Aerys seemed to listen, other than the head of the Alchemist Guild. And also just in time to save his hide.

"Speak Spider!" ordered the Mad King with a twirl of his hands simply.

"He had nothing to be blames Your Grace, my little birds in Dorne had sung that the Princess Alya Black of Arnor had been on a diplomatic mission with the Dornish leadership when Prince Doran received word from his forces that are besieging House Uller, a house in Dorne undermining the Martell authority,"

"So those snakes down south are collaborating with the enemies from the sea!" hissed Aerys in an accusation as more spittle flew from him.

"No your Grace, Oberyn Martell, Doran's brother had met with this princess when he's touring Essos and had joined her in bed more than once apparently. He had given her an invitation to visit Dorne and thus she had appeared. However for reasons unknown then, the princess of Arnor led a charge against the fortress of House Uller with her forces and the Martells'. Apparently they won in a day but an accident from a loose crossbow hit the Princess' neck and nearly killed her. Her men had brought her back to her Kingdom to be healed, which is unlikely, a fatal wound my birds reported it to be and her chances of passing through it are slim to none," explained Varys.

"Hmm..good! At least that's one threat to the realm down. Inform me more if these savages from the sea dare enter my kingdom without permission Spymaster. I gotta find my wife and celebrate,"

Tywin winced alongside Varys and the Kingsguard as the king still cackling trotted back to the walkways heading towards the royal chambers obviously to rape his queen again. Nodding to Varys in thanks, Tywin watched the Kingsguard disperse the hall to guard their positions with the king. He let off a small breathe of relief that is unnoticeable to many. He had nearly been killed there for a moment.

"Lord Hand if I may," the usual almost feminine voice of Varys made Tywin turn to the Eunuch that had saved his hide.

"Lord Varys," nodded Tywin.

"Just Varys Lord Hand, as you already may well know, his Grace might still harbor suspicion on you about these affair. If I could suggest ways of certain proof that can help you, I advise that you round up the gifts that the Princess of Arnor offered to the Dornish in the King's name and present them to His Grace, that would be unresolvable proof that only the Dornish and the Dornish alone had contact with this Princess Alya Black,"

Tywin only nodded at what Varys said, it does have point and it's not as if it would hurt him or the Lannister name as a whole. Sure Dorne would be pissed, but it had the king's seal and the blame would be at Aerys and Aerys alone. His name got cleaned in the Mad King's eyes, he confiscates some precious goods that might be priceless and no backfire on any way possible.

"Thank you for the information Lord Varys, I'll make sure to act on it," nodding once more to Varys, Tywin walked away ready to send a message to Lannisport to order five ships, with them fully crewed to go to Dorne and confiscate whatever the Arnorians gave the Dornish. Now that he thought about it, maybe he would succeed on making Aerys earn a good mood that he could manipulate the deranged man to agree on a marriage between his son and his daughter. He never noticed the gleam on the spider's eyes staring at his back as the Old Lion calculated his own plans and agendas.

"Sorcery and magic and anything related to it will never set foot on Westeros and its people. What happened to me no will ever bear as long as I am here and I am I swear," muttered the Spider watching the retreating back of the Lion lord before also going on his own way back to his office.

..

..

"What the hell happened to her?" Sirius Black half-yelled, half-screeched as he took to the stairs down to the Houses of Healing, two steps at a time, ignoring the frantic calling of his chamberlain that he be careful else he might fall and accidentally broke his neck.

There are only a few times that Sirius felt true fear. One was when the news was brought to him that the Potters, the best people in the world he knew was dead and also his daughter, another had been when his soul nearly got sucked in by a Dementor and the latest is when he was tossed like a ragdoll on this new world inside the merchant ship that had bought them when they're still alive and it was caught in a storm.

However nothing could compare to the terror that is seizing him right now as he reached the entrances of the Houses of Healing, the Tower Guards guarding it immediately standing aside at the sight of their king and did not bother with formalities and pleasantries knowing very much the reason of his haste.

Sirius had been in the middle of the thrice demented paperwork that he abhorred with a passion (which Alya usually managed if she's at Minas Tirith) when word came from a messenger riding a Gryphon that the ten ships that have went with Alya returned. Normally he would be giddy with joy seeing that his daughter didn't waste time galvinating around the world and delaying as much as she could, he preferred her here where he could watch her grow and protect her from anyone or anything that might cause her harm. He loved her with all his heart and he had sworn never to let her go again, so when the chamberlain uttered the words that his daughter is wounded, he wasted no time apparating to the entrance of the Houses of Healing and sprinted inside its lofty corridors.

"Where's my daughter?!" snapped the King of Arnor slamming open the doors of the room reserved for the royals as he strode inside where Dryads and even a centaur are gathered beside Imrahil and Trystane in the corner watching Healer Harding and the Dryad Matriarch scan the body of his daughter who much to Sirius' horror looked as pale as sheet even as two healers tried their best to staunch the bleeding coming from her neck where an ugly looking wound festered and a crossbow bolt on it.

"Keep it down your Grace," whispered Arthur, the Lord of Ithilien who had entered behind him on the door to check also on their beloved princess. "I know you're worried and afraid, I understand that. I myself am a father after all. However yelling and bothering the healers as they did their work would only be troubling and bothering them my king,"

Sirius wanted nothing more than to punch Arthur, stride to the side of his daughter and question the healers to the death to assure him that his daughter would be alright, rational and emotional desires warred, rational won in a landslide.

Sighing tiredly, Sirius nodded in agreement to his the lord of Ithilen's words. What he say is true after all, and Alya if she's awake would kick his butt into kingdom come for acting like a demented rooster. Walking to a seat provided for him by the others Sirius sat patiently as Imrahil in a small voice narrated what caused and the reason why of his daughter's current condition.

"You allowed her to go into battle?" asked Sirius incredulously as Imrahil finished. That is extremely irresponsible and idiotic, not to mention the political ramifications that such an action could cause. Why in the world did Alya help anyway? And Imrahil is fair-headed and wise, it is something that he never thought the lord of Dol Amroth will do.

Said lord only winced at the question. "Yes my king, I tried protesting but the princess has overruled me and wanted to proceed with her decision. You know as well as I do how stubborn and headstrong she can be when she put her mind to it," he pointed out.

"I guess I can't blame you," answered Sirius looking at the frail face of his lovely daughter. "What prompted you to go into battle Alya?" he wondered out loud before turning his direction to the healers led by Harding who had finally left Alya's side except for the Dryads who are singing a lullaby showing off an aura of green magic heading to the unconscious body on the mat.

"Healer Harding, is my daughter going to be okay?" asked Sirius, trying not to show his nervousness as the Healer sighed tiredly looking at him in the eye sternly.

"I'm going to be frank with you my liege, the news I have is neither good nor bad," spoke the Head Healer glancing at the body of their beloved princess in sorrow. Like everyone else, he also loved their princess who had done a great effort on ruling and making everyone on the Island of Arnor prosperous.

Gulping, he droned on. "As you can already probably deduce, the damage to her is severe. The arrow had damaged a part of her spinal cord cutting it severely which is the reason of her catatonic state as of now. We were lucky that her trachea and large parts of her breath way isn't touched else she would be drowning already in her own blood. It's also fortunate that she brought her Dryad handmaiden with her, if not for her, she would already have died. As it is, the magic she wove is the only thing temporarily binding the damage inside her and is allowing small amounts of blood to rush up to her brain, just enough to keep her alive without it leaving through the wound in her body in copious amounts,"

"So will you be able to fix her? She isn't going to die is she? Can you heal her?" asked Sirius anxiously looking at the pale face of his daughter.

"Yes my king, we would be able to fix her," assured Healer Harding with a wry smile. "And she won't die. You had to thank Prince Imrahil for that else any later and she would even be out of our reach. Conventional tools won't help her case after all and its only nature magic which some fairies and dryads had volunteered to perform will heal her now and bring her back. As Head Healer, it is my duty to inform you my king that despite the fact that we might succeed on healing our princess, there might be problems afterwards," informed the Healer making Sirius' eye sharpen at his words.

"Explain!" he demanded simply and sternly.

"Lack of regular blood flow and air in her brain might have some adverse effects in her body my king, effects that we don't know yet until she woke up. I felt it would be prudent if you're given a heads-up instead of being surprised," answered the Healer sagely despite the glaring down of his liege. "If that's all my king, please vacate the room and we would start the process if you don't mind,"

Sighing once more, Sirius nodded at the lords gathered on the room alongside the Tower Guards as they vacated the room, leaving the dryads to take care of his baby girl. Once more he felt fifty years older than his current age as the door closed behind him.

..

..

On another room inside the Houses of Healing, a pair of violet eyes opened with a small gasp looking around frantically and wondering about the fact that the surroundings she had seen before plunged into eternal darkness and pain is different from the one she had woken up to.

..

..

So that's that this chapter. Please Review. By the way, I had no idea what to add next, so please be patient for the next update. And for the negative opinions that some are giving me in PM's and reviews, Ill take a little delay at the next update.

AnimeAA5Kicker: Yes, it's the wife of Aegon I.

Secret-sorrow: Secret :P

Hikari-Nova: Youre the only one who got the reason as to why I put Rhaenys here hahaha

Light Lord Cybergate: Alya just didn't attack some house in random, House Martell which is the ruling family of Dorne sanctioned and allowed it, even supported it. It is Dorne's internal affair, something that the Crown doesn't concern itself with. Secondly she charged first and inspired everyone as a leader. And Alya knows how to fight, remember, war against Voldy? She's not a pampered princess.

Spoiler

PS: Fun times later with both Oberyn and Kevan with the mermaids and the water dragon.

PS: Rhaenys is gonna lay the smackdown on Sirius for being a pervert.

PS: Alya's beauty increase and her….disability will show. Also change of attire that many of you will probably disapprove.

PS: More fluff with Elia.

PS: Doran gets treated.

PS: Plans to return on Westeros. And Introduction of Lord Rickard Stark.

PS: Edain King gets involved.

PS: Rhaegar plans to marry Elia.

*Chapter 11*: Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

Darkness….that's the first thing that greeted Alya's sight as she found herself conscious. She immediately knew that she is in the Healing Houses of Arnor as the wafting scent of incense and myrrh filled the air giving her lungs relaxation as she let her stiff muscles unwind on the comfort of the bed she is at. Her mind drifted though as she lay there and recalled her memories before that blinding pain where she descended then on the realms of Hypnos.

She had been at the battle against House Uller, rallying her troops as they finally managed to take down that gate after severe losses (on the Martell soldiers). The enemy is at the final legs, and she is about to lead the Tower Guards on a strong push that would drive out the stern opposition waiting for them at the entrance of the fortress when whatever that is struck her on the neck and she only had a second to register the surprise, the pain and alarm when the shock of the impact knocked her out completely.

But she had been at Dorne and not at Arnor when she first lost consciousness. What in the One's name is she doing here back at the safety of her country? It is thousands of miles away from Dorne. Surely they did not abandon the war and dragged her here.

Resolving to find answers and find it quickly, Alya tried to get up from her bed only to immediately freeze as three things knocked the air and sense literally away from her:

Her eyes are open.

She can't see anything but darkness.

The Houses of Healing are never dark thanks to the glowing crystals which served as its light and she can't see anything.

Cold fear rolled on her insides like a coiling snake and Alya gulped as she opened her eyes as best as she could and raised her hand to her face expecting to see it…..only to see nothing.

Panic now replaced fear and the princess heiress of Arnor found herself hyperventilating as she raised her hands on her open eyes, gently touching them in horror as the realization set in that she can't see due to the fact that she's blind. Gentle fingers turned to cruel claws as she now clawed her eyelids letting off a wail that sent doors banging from somewhere on her right followed by feet running closer to her form which had fallen to its knees. Hands immediately grabbed her and pulled her from her knees on the floor and gently laid her back to bed.

"Somebody get me the King! Tell him his daughter is now awake! Now!" the familiar voice of her brother-in-heart, Imrahil shouted as she is brought gently on the bed though a stern hand at her shoulder kept her crying form there.

"Don't worry Alya, you're okay. I'm here, I'm here," whispered words of comfort by the Prince of Dol Amroth chided soothingly and failed as Alya's tears fell like silver rivers from unseeing eyes.

..

..

"This place is amazing!" Doran just chuckled as he followed his sister who is flitting like a butterfly from flower to flower as she transferred from one stall to another in quick succession. Leaning on his cane heavily as he trudged along the white cobblestones of Minas Tirith, Doran earned quite a few looks of interest from the people on the city and their other visitors which looked more animal than human some.

He can't blame them, he's the first outsider after all and many of them are nervous, unhappy or simply curious that he's here. If only they know that he found them as fascinating and interesting as they found him.

They had been here at Minas Tirith a week now and he had met and formalized the treaty of peace and trade with its King (which is too enthusiastic and friendly which is the direct opposite of his daughter which is stern and polite). Now that he made sure that Dorne won't end at Arnor's bad side anytime from the future, Doran had been given leave to wander the city to enjoy the sights with his sister.

Thankfully the Healers have been able to help his condition a bit and applied him a temporary sedative as they researched the cure of his sickness, enabling him to walk with the help of a cane instead of being pushed around like an invalid.

"This place is so big and beautiful brother," chimed Elia Martell as she once more gazed at the massive city almost crafted from the size of a mountain. "How do you think they made all of these in just four years brother?"

"Magic and might," answered Doran simply as he also looked at the higher three tier levels looming over them of Minas Tirith. "If not that, I would guess that this place is built by giants or gods. But I agree with you that this place is…nice,"

The word nice in fact can hardly compare in fact to Minas Tirith, Doran thought to himself. When he first saw the city, he thought at first that he's hallucinating until he got over the fact that he's riding over its gates. It is beautiful and strong, very strong. Majestic and powerful, it gives you the expressed opinion that it is an extremely bad idea to pick a fight with the people that is living on it.

He would be lying if he said that he isn't jealous, no castle in Westeros could compare to the magnificence and the size of the White City of Arnor. King's Landing compared to it would be like a woodman's shack smelling of piss whereas Minas Tirith smelled of Roses and leaves in dew at the early morning. Heck he even saw a Tower at one of the "residential Houses" that is as high as Sunspear Tower itself (something that galled him a lot seeing as it is more beautiful).

"Aye and I've never seen people such as this before," continued Elia acting more like a twelve year old girl than a seventeen year old princess as she stared at the busy but organized marketplace where the literate magical creatures come and trade with the human citizens of Arnor.

There are a lot of them Doran noticed. And a lot of them are something that could only come in his wildest and rarest dreams.

People so short and stocky with heavy beards trading rare gems and jewels for ore, giggling dryads as tall and green-tinted as Alya's handmaiden, each with a different hair color with leaves as ornaments for their long hairs, small creatures the size of a hand palm glowing despite morning sun in shades of orange, violet and green with small wings fleeting in and out chirping, tall slender humanoid figures so beautiful and regal as princes and princesses with angled ears walking hand in hand barefooted with floating blue dragons which seemed to be made of liquid water or whatever it is.

The skies are as busy as the streets too, though lesser populated. Gryphons flew endlessly back and forth on the sky shrieking their calls. Owls (which his guide explained delivered their messages), are also numbered in numbers heading to and from the owlery of the White Citadel (the seat of the Royal Family). And there are also bird-women, humanoid creatures as beautiful as they are flirty at least according to the Arnorians. Seeing the creatures up close, Doran made a mental note not to bring Oberyn here. His younger brother would try his damnest to bed one if he does and Doran isn't sure if those claws on the harpies (as the Arnorians call them) is just for show.

"Elia, don't forget that it would be time for the midday meal and I would rather not insult our host by being late," reminded Oberyn as Elia pouted in front of him looking at one of the gold necklaces with a sapphire on its middle, the size of an egg.

"But there's so much more for us to explore and see," whined the young princess of Dorne not the least pleased about being asked to attend a stuffy lunch get together instead of seeing all these wonders. She can't help but wonder if her brother is as amazed as she is seeing all these things. It's hard to get a read on Doran unlike Oberyn, it's like facing a statue and second-guessing what it is thinking.

Seeing the slightly hesitance on her sister's face, the ruler of Dorne resisted the urge to palm his face. Sometimes he wondered if his sister is acting her right age when something interests her and then it would be hard to pry her off from whatever she is doing then.

However had a trump card this time unlike before.

"Haven't you heard Elia? They're allowing visitors now to visit Princess Alya on the healing houses. Apparently she's-," Doran barely even finished his words only for Elia to be running back at the directions of the higher levels as fast as her dress would allow leaving a ruffled looking Doran standing, and feeling awkward as he stood there, the only foreigner with a cane in the middle of the street.

"-allowed visitors now," he finished lamely before shaking his head as he also went at the direction that his sister ran to.

..

..

"So that's what happened huh?" Alya calmly spoke as the healers and dryads hovered over her checking her body for any more missed scratches, or superficial wounds that they might have missed.

"Yes princess," answered Imrahil sitting at the edge of her table never once letting go of her hand ever since she woke up. "I'm sorry,"

"There's nothing to be sorry for Im," she chided gently before letting off an amused chuckle. "Of all the things I would be fallen by, it had to be the stray arrow from a half-blind archer. Reminds me of the mortality of each and every one of us; it's good to be humble and be reminded that despite my magic and my wit, I can still be felled down like any other man,"

"I won't let it happen again princess,"

"I'm sure you won't. I'll even gamble that next time there would be a fight, you'd strap me on a plank and bury me six feet beneath the ground and dig me up again once the battle is over,"

"Now don't start giving me ideas like that princess, I might just do it if you go stupid, and start charging a walled castle again without a helmet of any kind,"

The two merely chuckled amusedly at their own jokes as they settled on the silence of companionship with one another. Alya had finally got over her panic of being blind once she managed to finish her sobbing of fear and terror at not being able to see and her usual sharp common sense that had brought her far on life once more kicked in. She berated herself then and there for not remembering soon the simple fact that she's a witch and there's a way for her to see other than using her eyes.

In essence what Alya is doing is pulsing her magic like a sonar. Magic reacts on everything; it's just a matter of a user's sensitivity to know how much he or she could see. This art is one of the greatest secrets of House Black and designed specifically to sense assassins on the shadows. Even if it is common knowledge, most wizards and witches would still be unable to use it. It doesn't require a medium like a wand or a staff and even magicals that practiced wandless magic would still require years of training. For Alya who is a prodigy of wandless magic and is as stubborn-headed as an ox when she puts her mind on something, this art had been learned and mastered. She could see as long as she continued pumping miniscule amounts of her magic in a continuous manner that doesn't drain her one bit.

And it's a good thing too in her opinion. The dryads had explained to her that they had used their own brand of magic to heal her completely. Of course said magic binded with her and Alya know enough about nature magic to understand that it changed her positively in appearance, in the same way it gives beauty to the creatures of the forest and that's not a good thing. In this world, beauty is more a curse than a blessing. Males here had the urge to rape defenseless women as long as they had something that even comes close to an inch with the word beauty. And Alya is vain enough to admit that she's beautiful even on Arnorian standards, now only increased. She didn't miss the stray thought of wanting her from her brother-in-heart though he squashed it immediately feeling disgusted with himself.

Alya's broken out of her silence though as she felt Elia enter the door and she nearly chuckled at the rather large thought of appreciation from the Princess of Dorne as she stopped to see Alya propped up and sitting awake on the bed. However not even Alya can be prepared as the Princess of Dorne jumped towards her direction, bulldozing past healers and dryads, shoving an unfortunate Prince of Dol Amroth aside before claiming her lips fiercely and shoving her tongue inside the surprised mouth Alya Black.

..

..

"Uncle, I don't think this is a good idea," sighed Eorl, king of the Edain and Alya's godfather refusing the urge to rub his temple as he creeped in like a beggar with his own uncle by friendship with his deceased father, the king of Arnor inside his own palace. He had come here to see her goddaughter for the first time and for some reason that he can't explain, got dragged in this madness that his uncle seemed insistent on doing.

"You know uncle, if you truly want to meet her, you could just enter and introduce yourself," suggested Eorl as he watched his uncle removed his shirt, wearing only his boxer pants as he checked his hair and appearance on the mirror once more. "You're the bloody king of Arnor, she's a guest here. If you want to hit on her, just enter in your entire splendor,"

"That would be boring, learn from the master my young nephew. Remember, women always like a surprise. First impressions are important," he winked once before transforming into a black dog that lumbered off towards the direction of the silver-haired woman that the Arnorians rescued.

Eorl had to palm his face as he heard the woman coo inside at the dog, obviously petting it. The King of the Edain did not have to wait for long, there is the sound of a small "POP!" followed by a large shout of "Surprise!" from Sirius. Flesh hitting flesh sounded and Eorl stood aside as out came flying from the door the esteemed King of Arnor with a fresh slapped imprint and a black-eye on his face as he slammed on the wall showing webbed cracks.

Sighing at the childish attitude that the Island nation's king had, Eorl just hefted his uncle towards the Houses of Healing, ignoring his murmurs of "she's hot when she's angry". Hopefully they would be able to make it to the feast in time for tonight.

..

..

Inside the room as the two men hobbled off stood a hyperventilating Rhaenys trying her best not to shiver and break down in wails even as tears fell from her eyes. She could feel her heart pounding inside her ribcage and her entire frame shook with terror as she plopped on the corner of the room, the cold of the stones seeping on her bones. She had remembered the last time a man stood in front of her almost naked. The things they did to her, she shook her head trying to clear it as her entire skin crawled and she wished she could scrub them raw as they remembered inch by inch the touches that marred them. If her stomach isn't empty she would have vomited by then. As it is, Rhaenys Targaryen the First, sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror cried herself to oblivion as her entire ordeal is repeated inside her head and her dreams on the white city of Arnor.

..

..

Oberyn drummed his fingers for the hundredth time on the wooden arm of the chair maintaining his stoic façade as best as he could as he watched the Lannister soldiers sent by the Old Lion of the Rock tried futilely to catch the elusive mermaids on the bay of Sunspear who seemed to enjoy the efforts of the men trying to get them. They've arrived yesterday bearing the Hand's letter that they have been given permission to round up whatever the "invaders" have given to Dorne. Of course being it signed by the Hand and the King, Oberyn as regent here can't refuse not that he didn't have to help them though.

Sure he had given permission for them to catch one, "if" they could catch one. Despite their numbers and their nets and spears, they failed epically and funnily too. Twice, Kevan Lannister fell from the ship, with his net being pulled to the waters with him alongside it. Gerion who is more likeable and probably the most laid back of the Lannister brothers have been swept ashore in a daze filled with red kisses all over his face with his shirt missing and his diamond necklace too. Three of the five ships that have arrived immediately high-tailed it after seeing the large serpentine-like water dragon on the crystal waters (Though they don't know what it is) leaving the two to try and fail epicly on their mission.

Not that Oberyn cared about them at the moment.

With the Lannister men came one of Rhaegar's secret associates, handling Oberyn a letter that is meant for Doran. It is a proposition for his sister to be married with the Crown Prince and for the life of him, Oberyn doesn't know what to do no matter how much he thought about it.

On one hand, it is a great honor for Dorne to have its princess marry on the Royal Family, Doran probably would agree with him on a heartbeat, but unlike his brother, Oberyn considered his sister's feelings. He knew of course that Elia had a good friendship with Rhaegar, so it's not all that bad like some arranged marriages. The Crown Prince is a good man and a good ruler, the people love him and he seemed to be sane unlike his father. The real problem is, will Elia forgive him if he agreed? He knew that his sister harbored interest with the Princess of Arnor and isn't sure how deep that interest goes.

Sighing wearily as he watched Kevan dragged to the water once more by the mermaids from his ship, Oberyn picked up a pen and a paper and jotted down his reply and sealing it with the seal of Dorne.

..

..

Cliffhanger! Hahaha. Next chapter would probably be us going to the direction now to the events at GOT that would be the baseline for the war. Lols please continue your support readers. Please Review.

For the new characters, Eorl is the King of the Edain and Sirius' nephew by oaths of friendship.

I know I mentioned the Starks last chapter, sorry cant find the place to put them here. Probably next chappie.

PS: On another hand, just finished watching Season 7 Episode 4 of GOT in cinema. FUCK! DANY'S DRAGON GOT OWNED BY A CROSSBOW BOLT! :'( …Im not surprised.

Oops sorry for the spoiler hihihihi (Evil laugh)

*Chapter 12*: Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

"Wow that was…,"

"Mind blowing? Beautiful? Hot?" finished Elia giggling madly as her hands found purchase once more on the fingers of her beautiful lover.

"I would say fast, but any of those things would suffice I guess love," sighed Alya as naked as Elia is on the bed that belonged to the Houses of Healing. "Though I believe we should get out now before the healers disapproved even more about the blatant use of beds here at the Houses of Healing,"

Elia only smiled as she helped Alya up, making sure to brush her palms on the breast of her lover "accidentally", taking pleasure at the small gasp that she elicited from those cherry lips of hers. Until now Elia can't wrap her head that she had bedded the princess of Arnor without so much of a protest from the said person. When she entered the Houses of Healing, she had been unable to help herself as she saw the beautiful woman sitting there looking so innocent and vulnerable. If Alya is beautiful before, now that beauty is five times greater and Elia would be lying if she said that she isn't attracted despite the warning bells tolling on her head; something that she failed epicly on hiding if her actions are any indication at all.

"So what are we now?" Elia blurted out much to her horror as she clamped her hands on her mouth as Alya froze her gazeless eyes boring on her.

The princess of Dorne can do nothing but berate herself in her head. What possessed her to ask that? She can't just ask that out of the blue, especially with someone like Alya. She's the heir of her father and the thing between them would be nothing more than a one night stand, something that Elia doesn't wish to accept. She had given her all, and her heart beats for the princess of Arnor so much that it hurts her physically. The romantic side of her wanted nothing more than to take this criminally gorgeous person and ravage her till the two of them can't walk for days while the realistic part of her knew that what her heart yearns for would never be true. They are both women and royalty. They had responsibilities that they won't be able to simply forget and turn their backs at. It is the price of their power and stature in life.

What Elia didn't know is the sliver of thought that belonged to Alya reading each and every mental word that passed on the Princess of Dorne's mind.

Normally Alya would never violate the sanctity of Elia's mind no matter the reason. However with her blindness, all rules that she had set up when she can see now flew out of the window and it amused the Princess of Arnor a lot at the turmoil inside the Princess of Dorne's head.

Not that Elia's thoughts made hers any easier.

As a rule Alya never got herself attached except to a very personal few. So after her tryst with Elia, for the first time in her life, Alya is confused. She had bedded many people already both men and women many times, but this is the first time that she felt something like this. Sure Elia is beautiful in her own right, but in Alya's blindness that isn't a factor. There's just something on the girl that caught Alya's attention. She's gentle and harsh, shy and bold, and unsure, as if her wondering if her decision could cause large repercussions. Alya had learned enough of her character as they made love. The girl is terribly hesitant on her moves despite being so fierce on charging in without any plan. Alya had taken the lead on their fucking though Elia turned the tables when she got over herself once more. But all in all, Alya knew she's a good soul; very different from the prince and princess royals that she had the displeasure to meet on this world. Most of them acted as if they're God's gift from heaven and are pompous as shits. Not Elia though, she's a good soul, maybe a little nervous and scared, but had a good heart on her, in fact she's almost like a serious Sirius minus his eccentrics.

"Alya," the gentle voice of Elia Martell brought her out of her thoughts as she merely inclined her head on the princess of Dorne to show that she got her attention. "We gotta go now if we had to get to the dinner feast your father is hosting. Should I call a servant to lead us there? Normally I would ask you to lead the way but seeing that you're…well, you know, I can't find my way there on my own,"

Alya can't help but be amused at the way Elia tiptoed around the sensitive issue with her blindness, oh if only she knows that she can see now much better she could observe the world around her now. It's highly amusing to dangle Elia though and despite her serious nature, Alya is still her father's daughter and pranking is in her blood.

"Come Elia," said Alya simply interlocking her arms with that of the Princess of Dorne leading her out of the door and straight to the white passageways where servants immediately bowed at the passing of the two princesses. "Don't worry my dear, I know this place like the back of my hand, we won't get lost,"

"Are you sure?" the slightly nervous voice of Elia asked as they passed another hallway on the right. "My brother won't be happy with me being late in front of your father of all things,"

"Just tell him you spent the extra time fucking me. Oberyn got away with it all the time, surely you could too," suggested Alya trying her hardest not to snigger as Elia's heat skyrocketed indicating the level of blush she's suffering. "And stop worrying too much about my father, he won't bite…much," this time Alya laughed out loud as Elia squawked in an unladylike-like manner.

..

..

Sirius knew that he's in trouble the moment his daughter entered the room. His chamberlain had informed him too late that the healers didn't fail to tell his daughter that he himself had been a patient on the Healing Houses thanks to his failed "surprise" on the beautiful woman that Alya's forces had managed to secure. Of course that alone would be forgivable, but seeing that he didn't even deign to visit his daughter thanks to the make-up session to hide the bruises on his face made Sirius wince at the tongue lashing that he's about to receive for later. Alya always reminded him of acting like his station (which is boring on Sirius' books) and what he did is the exact opposite of what his daughter meant. And she could give him no end of trouble if she wanted to. Alya can be creative in punishing, for example: she could just leave the paperwork to him, something that Sirius seriously abhorred.

"Alya," he nodded in recognition to his daughter who is helped by Doran's sister on her sit, the once vibrant green eyes she had now covered with a piece of silk white cloth that hid her blindness, once more Sirius felt guilty at not being there when she woke up despite it being an honest mistake. He made a mental note not to let anything like this happen again to his beloved daughter. He'd rather tear the world upside down than let her suffer once more. The Ullers are just lucky that House Martell got to them first instead of him.

In front of him, are the rest of the occupants of the table invited on this formal affair. The Five Lords of Arnor is present of course with their liveries and also renowned warriors like Lancelot and his lady, Guinevere. Doran of course wore his traditional yellow ornament with his chief of guard in tow so that he might not be alone. Alya of course sat at the right hand of Sirius being the heiress apparent and only child of the king. At her side being dragged is a rather surprised Elia Martell at being placed so near the King of Arnor. It is terribly out of tradition; after all despite being a dignitary, she's more of a guest and not at the top of the hierarchy unlike her brother. She should be sitting at her brother's side, not at Alya's. But the black-haired beauty (that everyone tried not to ogle too much in fear of her father's presence) once more defied customs and refused to let her budge away. Still despite the slight grumblings and Alya's and Elia's lateness all in all, everyone is now here.

Showing his kingly composure (that he seldom wore), the King of Arnor clapped his hands twice giving the servants the signal to enter, each carrying large trays of meats, pies and fruits unto the marble white table making Alya who smelled the exotic scents turn her head to her father in a questioning manner. Very seldom did Sirius throw magnificent feasts (mainly her birthdays), but when he does, he spared no expense on it. In fact Alya knew enough with the smells tickling her nostrils that the food being served in front of them could be enough to buy a small castle or an army if converted into gold.

Elia Martell on the other hand tried and failed to hide her astonishment at the Arnorians flaunting richness. Every single utensil being put in front of them is either made of silver or gold, and a small bite at her spoon showed that it is not fake by the least. In front of her and the other guests are large amounts of soups and stews filled with various tubers, roasted venison, long hot loaves of sourdough bread dressed in garlic, and rows of honey cakes dripping with raspberry and other exotic more preserves that she didn't even know existed. There's also a bed of greens where a filleted trout lay garnished with parsley, and on the side, pickled eel staring forlorn at an urn of neatly sliced cheese as if hoping to somehow escape back to the water. A swan sat every two people, surrounded by flocks of stuffed partridges, geese and ducks.

There's also mushrooms everywhere: broiled in juicy strips, placed atop a bird's head like a bonnet or carved in the shape of castles amid moats of gravy. An incredible variety was also on display, from puffy white mushrooms the size of a man's fist to one she could have mistaken for gnarled bark, to delicate toadstools sliced neatly in half to showcase their blue flesh.

Then the centerpiece of the feast was revealed: a gigantic roasted boar, glistening with sauce. At least Elia thought it was a boar for the carcass is large enough for a horse and took six men to carry. The tusks were longer than her forearms, the snout as wide as her head. And the smell, it overwhelmed all others in pungent waves that made her eyes water from the strength.

"Calydian Boar," whispered Alya at her side. "Giant boar, native only on our island; my father truly honors you and your brother Alya. Only the bravest Tower Guards dare hunt the Calydian Boar and even then, it's very seldom.

Elia leaned towards her so that no one else could hear. "Please tell me that you had no other animals that could chew, swallow and kill me in one bite,"

To her credit, Alya only giggled, the white cloth covering her eyes doing very little to mar her beauty. "Dire Wolves big enough to prey on a Calydian Boar and nimble enough to catch Gryphons, Dryads and Satyrs. Bears which prey on mermaid waters. How they catch them I do not know but-,"

"Let the feast begin!" commanded Sirius smiling at everyone. The servants immediately drew small knives and cut portions and set on everyone's plates except for the representatives of the Dryads and a weighty piece for the Gryphon of Alya who had entered the open halls without anyone noticing.

Elia had never tasted anything like the boar as she swallowed a slice. It was juicy, soft and oddly spicy as if the meat had been soaked in honey and cider which was then enhanced by the mint used to flavor the pork.

"I wonder how they managed to cook something so large," commented Doran who for the first time it seemed enjoyed eating without his formal composure and is stuffing his face.

"Very slowly," commented Bors' who like the Prince of Dorne is also nibbling his food.

During the banquet, Elia divided her time between sampling the multitude of dishes and conversing with Alya, Doran, the King of Arnor and other people down the table. In that manner the hours hastened by, for the feast was so large, it was late afternoon before the last course had been served, the last bite consumed and the last chalice drained. As the servants removed the tableware an wiping the table clean of any dirt and leftovers, Sirius turned to her brother and said. "The meal pleased you, yes?"

"Very much so your Grace," answered Doran wiping his upper beard with a table cloth. "I am honored that you served such delicious food to me and my sister,"

"Good, good. Now I believe it's time to go straight to business Prince Doran," stated Sirius in a serious manner making the ruler of Dorne stiffen including Elia.

"Is he going to blame us for what happened to his daughter?" thought Elia in a panic. In a way they are responsible. They after all allowed her to participate with their blessing. She's surprised though as Alya's soft hands touched her clench fists calming her with a small smile of assurance.

"As you are already aware of course, my daughter has been wounded while visiting your lands. Normally I'd held you responsible but I've been made aware by the Lords that went with her that the enemy who did that to her is eliminated," it's a statement as well as a question.

"Yes, your Grace. House Uller have been wiped out to the last man. My brother, Oberyn made sure of that," answered Doran stiffly also aware how dangerous the ground they're treading with the King of Arnor. Being on a tangled mess with a king's daughter being on the worse end….bad idea.

"Good, then in accordance to the negotiations set by my daughter during his visit to your country. I Sirius Black, King of Arnor formally recognize the treaty of peace between my country and yours. I would also like in behalf of me as a father thank you for taking the time to visit my country and my daughter," said Sirius standing up and raising a hand to her shocked brother to shake.

Elia was the first to recover from shock and she had to kick Doran's shins to bring him out of the surprise he's been caught at to make him return to his senses and shake the king's hands who had surprised them all.

..

..

"No wonder your father doesn't allow anyone to enter your island, this place is beautiful," sighed Elia as she rested her head on the shoulders of her…lover? Friend? Partner? She doesn't know, but she sure as hell won't let her last few days left worrying as the sweet pine scent of Alya wafted over her nose. She would be leaving in three days with her brother since it had been two weeks already and Doran needed to get back to Dorne to manage their affairs. No doubt Oberyn would be swearing to the high heavens already with all the responsibility of ruling relegated to him.

"Indeed it is," answered the blind princess sitting on the ledge with Elia using Elia's own thoughts to see the world. This is the backdrop of her skill. Sure she might be able to see, but the vision of magic being projected had its limits in distance. Still, seeing through Elia's eyes made her see a fishing village on the lake shining with its crystal lamps even as a small group of Centaurs passed by its edges running to the eaves of the forest. "My people here have learned to respect nature. Respect it and it will give something back to you. It is one of the primary values that we instill to everyone,"

"And a good value it is," said Elia simply intertwining her hands with Alya's, their slender fingers matching each other's perfectly. "I wish I could spend more time with you here. This place is so beautiful that I would find it hard for me to leave no matter how much I miss Sunspear,"

"You could always return anytime you know. My father already allowed you and your brothers' permission to enter the Argonath without the guards stopping you there," pointed out Alya.

Elia only laughed as she stared at the beautiful face with the linen blindfold. Oh how she wished she could accept Alya's offer. But the practical side of her knows that she can't take advantage of it all the time no matter how much she wanted to.

Arnor is a treasure trove both in resources and in people. It is also a potential kingdom to be conquered for those who are ignorant of the strength hiding across the Argonath. Already news is being spread and wide about this island kingdom and she knew that many would love nothing more than either to loot it until there's nothing left or burn it to the ground to prevent another Valyrian Freehold that might disturb the status quo of the world. Arnor's stronghold is the Sea of Mists with no one able to navigate it right other than the Arnorians. Filled with rocks and sea creatures big enough to swallow ships whole, it is a death trap for anyone. If she spent too much time traveling here, she would be noticed and followed, and finally cause an invasion once the Sea of Mists is navigated.

Smiling only, Elia once more took off the white linen that served as Alya's blindfold, showing off those green eyes that are now unseeing until fully recovered. She's so beautiful that it hurt even to know that she would be separated with such a beauty soon. Putting her hands on Alya's hips, Elia only leaned in to kiss her once more deeply, their bodies pressing to one another and lead the Princess of Arnor back to their shared bed.

Elia might be leaving soon but she'll make sure Alya miss every inch of her after she left.

..

..

Another chappie done. I know this chapter is quite boring, but I wanted to stress the relationship between Alya and Elia at the moment. Next chapter would be a time-skip and start at the Tourney of Harrenhall. Please Review readers. The more the reviews, the more inspired I am to keep updating. Hihihi sorry if its being vain like that. But I love reading your comments and how you want the story to progress.

PS: The plot until the End of the Rebellion is also made up readers and I plan to surprise ya all hihihihi

*Chapter 13*: Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

Three Years After Doran and Elia Martell left the Isle of Arnor.

"Come on Alya, surely you could do better than that?" the slightly mocking laugh of Rhaenys Targaryen the first of her name made Alya scowl as she ushered Stormwind even faster to catch up with the newly crowned Queen of Arnor.

Yes, after Elia and her brother left the Isle, things turned from stiffened formality to one of relaxation once more on the white citadel of Minas Tirith. Apparently despite their warm and welcoming attitude to the foreigners from Dorne, the people, especially the Tower Guars have been tense and even some took extra shifts to make sure that nothing bad happen to their homes. Apparently being isolated from everyone else for years made the Arnorians very edgy and distrustful despite the assurance of their rulers that their new friends from Dorne are harmless.

Of course things settled more or less back to normal with Imrahil taking the majority of the paperwork from Alya thanks to her blindness, and Sirius hightailing it once the first official suggested that he do the paperwork instead of his daughter. The princess of Arnor also had been updated about the results of her aid on the eradication of House Uller and what happened after she got knocked out. To say that she was surprised when Imrahil broke to her the news that Rhaenys Targaryen, one of Aegon's wives had been rescued trapped on a sealing array of magic inside a torture room would be an understatement.

"Hurry up Alya, we need to go faster if we are to catch up with the ships," Rhaenys' voice brought Alya's mind back to the present as she flew her Gryphon beside her step-mom. She never believed anyone would feel at home as she was in the air when she came on this world, but seeing the silver-haired woman now flying loops on the air with her Gryphon, Alya is once more proven wrong. She had never seen anyone love flying so much as Rhaenys Targaryen.

As usual it had fallen into Alya to…get to know Rhaenys after Sirius' failed surprise welcome and check her if she should be a danger to Arnor. Goodness only knows she might go scampering back to her descendants back at Westeros with information about the Hidden City and she can't have that. To say that for the first time in her life, Alya's talent on Legilemency backfired on her spectacularly.

The moment she stepped on the same room as the silver-haired woman, their minds touched and Alya nearly fainted as her brain was bombarded with images of the torture that the former Targaryen Queen endured would be an understatement. She had been broken in every way and even now Alya can still see those cruel devices working their ways on Rhaenys every time she slept the screams of agony and pleading echoing like the legion of the damned inside her skull. It didn't help that visions that Rhaenys had been raped again and again beyond count before they sealed her on that seal array stuck on Alya's head. That's the only reason why as to her torturers didn't start lopping her arms off or skinned her alive since her dragon fell.

Everyone stayed clear of Alya for at least a week after her visit to Rhaenys after everyone got the memo that the Princess is in a very edgy mood as one of her suitors went flying out of the highest floor of the White Citadel to the river below. It didn't help that Sirius nagged her more and more about the former Targaryen Queen and Alya had to threaten her father with paperwork to get him to back off.

Alya herself didn't know how she managed to befriend and pull Rhaenys out of her panicked and terrified state. The twenty-nine year old woman had been jumpy every time someone enter her room and got the habit of crawling to hide under the bed covers terrified. Alya didn't know how long she had played therapy on the Targaryen, but obviously it worked….as best as it could at least. Rhaenys is more or less open now and with the friendliness that the staff and lords and ladies of the White Citadel, she finally accepted that the world she had lived in is no more and everything is a fresh start for her.

The princess of Arnor had been surprised though at the confessions that Rhaenys told her. Apparently she never chose to be her brother's bride seeing that despite her being better looking than her sister, Visenya, Aegon loved her older sibling and the only reason they included her on the polygamous marriage is to keep her safe from political marriages.

Alya also noticed that the Rhaenys Targaryen she had met is the farthest from how the books described her. She is fun loving, obsessed with flying and cooking (much to the chagrin of the cooks as she frequented the kitchens daily), enjoyed the company of children and loved music to an addict's degree. She is also wise and for some reason managed to worm her way to the hearts of the people without making an effort unlike Alya who is respected and loved for her achievements despite her slightly serious demeanor.

If she's also honest with herself, Alya knew that having Rhaenys around is like having a big sister that is obviously caring; the older woman dotted on her with a fierceness that sent suitors running in ten directions. She's also overly worried always, especially with Alya's blindness that didn't seem to improve for the past three years. Having no one to trust when she lived as Harry Potter, Alya welcomed these changes with open arms and heart making everyone sigh in relief as their beloved princess seemed to smile more now despite the loss of her sight.

The fact that Sirius is infatuated with the former Queen of Westeros though didn't escape anyone's notice. With the aid of Alya and some friends (half of the staff in the White Citadel and the entirety of the Tower Guards), they managed to set up a lot of "coincidental meetings" between the two without freaking out the still volatile woman that stayed as their guest. Alya also took it upon herself to formally educate Sirius on the finer acts on winning a woman's heart and for the first time in his long life, the King of Arnor listened five hours straight with rapt attention.

Still, despite their best efforts, it took them two years and a half for the two to finally force the two to admit their feelings to one another and kiss. For someone who is boasting to bed half of Hogwarts' population and half the dryad forests, Sirius looked like a terrified teenager as he proposed.

The wedding between the two then is one of the happiest days on the realm. In fact everyone in Arnor called it a special holiday and even King Eorl of the Edain took the long journey on the seas to attend the wedding. To say that Alya is pleased would a very be low understatement. The two deserved happiness with each other and now, Arnor has its queen. Alya is still the heir at least until Rhaenys gets pregnant (which hopefully would be soon), where the first male would then take her place. She isn't flustered, Alya may be great at organizing the kingdom, but she had no aspirations to rule unless no one else takes her place.

"There they are," the oddly cheerful voice of her stepmother is nearly smothered by the wind as Alya followed the steep dive of Rhaenys' Gryphons to the six ships with the Swan design, bearing the insignia of Arnor on their sails skimming over the waters easily, unlike most of the ships on this world. Beneath the light waters of the ocean could clearly be seen from the sky, the silhouette of a water dragon swimming underneath the ships as a guardian. More than one pirate fleet attempted to raid the trading ships of Arnor, only for the unfortunate booty looters to be sunk before they could even come within a hundred fathoms on the Swan ships.

"Come Alya, raise you down below," chirped Rhaenys happily making Alya roll her eyes beneath the half helmet she wore that covered her forehead and half of her nose that covered her unmoving green eyes.

"Don't you ever tire of the racing game Rhaenys?" asked the Princess of Arnor as their Gryphons climbed up higher and higher in altitude in order to prepare for their steep dive.

"Nope, not one bit,"

Alya only sighed as the air becomes thinner before she felt the nod from Rhaenys making both Gryphons immediately stop their climb as they then turned direction and free fell to the white dots of the ships below at accelerating speeds.

Even despite the danger, Alya can't help but laugh with Rhaenys at the excitement of this game.

..

..

"What do you mean he failed!?" everyone at the court room winced as the mad king half-demanded and half-shrilled like a woman his spittle flying to them. Tywin had to hold back his own protest as some of his "Grace's" spittle landed on his face. Ignoring the scream that is threatening to go out of his own lips like a cannonball, Tywin Lannister only wiped the spittle with the hem of his robe taking mental note to burn the apparel later on.

"I'm sorry my lord, but Steffon Baratheon's demise is a tragedy that we all mourn. The storm that killed him and his wife is unexpected but not surprising since Storm's End after all is known for the storms that pervaded its coasts," the silky voice of Varys said mournfully. "I think your Grace that we need to send another messenger, but this time less important to carry out your own orders. It won't do good to send out lords that had loyalty to you be suffering accidents from all over the world to only deliver messages your Grace,"

"Good point Varys!" cackled the look alike half-walking corpse sitting on the throne, his beady eyes roaming over those attending the court before latching into someone.

"You Sir Edgecombe! Stand over here!" commanded the king forcing the unfortunate soul that attracted his attention to step forward trembling all over.

Tywin simply ignored now the rambling of the mad king as he gave orders to the knight who's obviously going to be performing the wild goose chase that Aerys Targaryen is assigning him to do. Instead he focused on the updated information that his spies across Westeros had given him.

The Kingdom of Arnor ruled by Sirius Black is now the talk of everyone from the highest lord to the lowest peasant. For the past three years with the backing of the Merchant City of Braavos, the Horse Lords of the Edain and the Iron Bank, commerce from the Island Kingdom had been spreading all over the known world, the renowned white Swan ships sailing the waters in speeds that would make the Iron Born grow green with envy. It doesn't take a genius to know that they're rich; nearly everyone that had a coin wanted their exotic goods, from the domestic lamp crystals that are brighter and more efficient than torches or fire-lit ones to beautiful Arnorian swords encrusted in silver and white crystal which is as much coveted as Valyrian swords for their beauty and durability.

However the main reason as to why everyone is interested in the prospering Island Kingdom is not because of their goods or their riches, no. The reason is the fact that the King of Arnor had a daughter and she's not married…yet. Everyone who had a son that is available and had some sort of prestige is clambering all over one another to get the princess of Arnor to be bonded to them. It didn't help that said Princess is rumored to be a beauty without equal and those lucky enough to see her in the flesh is singing praises of her beauty to the high heavens. The real trick is finding her and finding her kingdom.

Apparently despite the best efforts of many people, even Tywin himself, none so far had successfully managed to navigate the Sea of Mists, farther south of the Summer Islands. Those that had tried so far are lost to its waters. Even his brother Gerion lost his life there after his foolhardy journey to explore the world and find Brightroar. Tywin had ordered him and ten of Lannisport's best ships and crew alongside Kevan in an effort to make it up for their disaster on retrieving from Dorne the gifts of the Arnorians. Out of the fleet he had sent, only one ship remained bearing a waterlogged crew and Kevan who is half-starved in the sea for four months after they ran aground the reefs on the Sea of Mists.

As for the Princess of Arnor, Tywin had been on the lookout for the traveling ships of Arnor that delivered their goods. If he managed to capture even one Arnorian, he could easily torture the details about anything he could spill about their kingdom. The only problem is, the merchants of the Island Kingdom unlike most sell their wares on the edge of their vessels in full view of their guards. Spiriting one underhandedly would be a recipe for disaster, especially since the Arnorians only traded in the Free Cities and never stepped foot on Westeros yet except for Dorne which refused to give information about them.

To say that Tywin is frustrated would be the understatement of the Century. He had been rebuffed when the Mad King married his son to the Dornish princess instead of his daughter, and worse since the Mad King declared it openly on court after Tywin offered him the proposition of a betrothal between Cersei and Rhaegar only a night before. He knew that it is a slight against him after that idiotic minor lord now rotting in a ditch made the comment out loud in court that Tywin is the ruler instead of the Mad Aerys of Wsteros. He who is trusted by the mad king is now under his scrutinizing gaze and Tywin had to play his hand carefully else Aerys just might find a reason to burn him.

He had been playing against everyone in Westeros as best as he could, trying to get his spies to find or at least send word to the princess of Arnor an offer of betrothal to his son, Jaimie alongside a large offer of dowry to her father (enough gold and gems to buy three castles in fact) before anyone else managed to. Now with the chance of Cersei unable to become queen, Jaimie still had a chance to be the legacy that he so needs to preserve the Lannister name if he married that Princess of Arnor. He could bring her to the Rock as her duty as a wife to follow him and no one would dare challenge the Lannister name with the might and riches of the Island Kingdom and lords of the West standing side by side.

Seeing that the session for court is now over and Aerys is off with a demented smile to rape his queen again, Tywin also walked away to his chambers. He needed to be careful and to be careful about this fast. Aerys is planning also to secure the Arnorian princess as his son's second bride since Targaryen House practiced polygamy to keep the rising Island nation in check. If Aerys got a whiff that he is planning to go behind his back and marry Jaimie off to a woman he also planned for his son, Tywin knew he would suffer the same fate of being burnt to ashes as the High Septon who protested the polygamous marriage that the king explained.

..

..

"Shh..sweetie, don't worry. Your father will play with you soon. He's just too busy at the moment being the crown prince and all," the cheerful voice of Elia Martell or Elia Targaryen cooed hopelessly to the crying two year old she is holding. Though her voice is cheerful, her heart is weeping inside as she watched the slowly dwindling back of her husband, Rhaegar Targaryen vanishing on the halls.

It had been two years, two years ever since she had come to this city of snakes and vipers where everyone has an agenda and one moment of laxness might lead you to your doom as you are caught in the so-called web that everyone is calling, the Game of Thrones. Cradling her two-year old daughter to her breast, Elia dropped the façade of smiling as she glared at the corridors where her husband vanished before she headed back to her own chambers.

It had been three years, three years ever since she had been back here at Westeros, one in Dorne and two here at the capital where she had been married off to the Crown Prince. Thinking about it only hurt her even more.

When Oberyn had informed her that she is betrothed to Rhaegar Targaryen, she had been ecstatic. It is every girl and ladies' dream to marry or even just bed the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. She felt honored and happy and didn't even stop into agreeing into it wholeheartedly.

Now holding her daughter, Elia can't help but cry softly to herself as she reminisced her big mistake. Rhaegar may be cordial to her, but it's obvious that he didn't love her and she could literally count in her twenty fingers the times he had deigned to visit her or his daughter. Every time he comes, is for him to partook his duties as a husband, not caring for her pleasure the least and kept muttering that she finish the prophecy of the "three-headed dragon", whatever that means.

Reacing the safety of her chambers, Elia nodded to the Kingsguard guarding her door as she entered inside and laid Rhaenys to her crib as Elia walked to the window and stared far west where she could see the open ocean staring calmly at her as if mocking her current condition. By instinct her hand went to the silver ring she wore bearing the symbol of a Tree with seven stones, the gift she received from the Crown Princess of Arnor when she left their kingdom.

"Alya," she muttered the name, it had been a long time since she saw her and Elia Martell can't help but feel guilty over herself that she didn't even deign inform her lover that she is betrothed and now married in a loveless life.

Looking once more West, farther west than anyone ever had, the Princess Consort of Rhaegar Targaryen wondered how things would be if she did not force Doran to accept the offer from King's Landing with ease.

..

..

So that's that. Hope you like the chapter. Sorry for the long update. I'm joining a writing competition, so that's why I haven't updated. Hihihi sorry. Next up, the Tourney of Harrenhall, or at least events heading into it. No promises.

Please Review.

*Chapter 14*: Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

"How many times must I tell you not to spend so much in lavish welcome dad?" Alya mock scowled as she felt the rather large gathering waiting for her at the gates of Minas Tirith even as Sirius embraced her, pulling her around as he laughed.

"Missed you too my daughter," replied the King of the Island Kingdom as he put his protesting daughter back before turning to give a kiss on his wife who reciprocated the gesture despite shyly. Alya only smirked on the sideline knowing that despite the great leap of progress that Rhaenys had made on slowly overcoming his ordeal, she is still not fully well….or ever will be.

Despite her blindness Alya smiled softly and waved at the assembled crowd that are cheering her name quite loudly as she followed the familiar foot steps towards the White Citadel. As she passed the last gates with the crowd being parted by the Tower Guards that had come alongside Sirius to prevent them from crushing their beloved Princess, Alya smiled as she rounded the last corner of Minas Tirith's seven gates as eight blurs of light sensed by her magic slammed into her legs making the Princess of Arnor smile as she rubbed the heads of the little bundles of joy.

"How are you all children?" asked the Princess of Arnor as she crouched on their level, their little frames barely rising above her forehead.

The eight had been children of a ship captain that got the bad luck on one of his trading routs to meet a storm along the way. As strong and seaworthy the Swan ships, even they cannot face a storm in open ocean. He had perished with his wife leaving eight children orphaned, the oldest fourteen and the youngest at age two. They are the first orphans ever since the establishment of Arnor and Alya despite her mountainous obligations on managing the nation chose to care for them. Sure, they had the money but they lacked someone to care for them and the Princess of Arnor fulfilled the role of a big sister to them which they all appreciated.

"We're okay princess," chirped Malia, the youngest of the orphans not wasting time on climbing up the arms of the blind nineteen year old, curling up her small frame on the chest of Alya, soaking up her warmth like a sponge even as the others crowded her while the people watched the beautiful scene of their princess once more showing how much she care for them despite her strict and seldom smiling self. "Did you bring us anything princess?"

"Of course, you don't think I would forget my promises to my favorite girl in the world did you?" chuckled Alya making sure that the small girl is secured on her arms before taking a small figurine of a red dragon made of rubber and fiber, the size of the girl's fists out of one of the pockets of her cloak.

Alya only smiled inwardly in content as Malia squealed in glee taking the small toy that Alya bought from Braavos, letting go of her before running back to her family showing the dragon to them eagerly turning into a chatterbox in seconds. Gesturing for her hand-maiden Dryad to give the rest of the stuff she bought for the little family, Alya followed behind Sirius and Rhaenys who had paused on their stride as they waited for her to finish her business with the orphaned family.

"Sometimes I envy how much the people loved you Alya," pouted Sirius as they finally reached the stone gardens of the White Citadel exclusive only for the Royal Family and the Lords that visit the rulers' seat in Minas Tirith. "Makes me wonder what would have happened if you could have been the ruler of this city instead of me,"

"They'll love your daughter more than you of course my love," giggled Rhaenys as they passed the beautiful carvings of their home, her heart turning lighter as she finally felt the comforting arms of welcome by the familiar white halls. "After all, she's more responsible than you ever will be when it comes to administration,"

"And my wife takes my daughter's side. You should have married her instead of me,"

"I still could you know," Rhaenys smiled as she sauntered lustfully to Alya, her arms draping over the slender neck of her adopted daughter and best friend their bodies gluing together in such proximity that their breasts mashed with each other . "I've got a lot of practice about fucking women from Visenya after all. Do you want to see me do that with your dear daughter husband?"

Alya would have exchanged all the diamonds in the world to see her father so flustered that he resembled a tomato either in arousal or alarm seeing the close intimacy between the two of them. Deflating like an inflated balloon and keeping his head off the gutter at what he just witnessed, the King of Arnor finally huffed as he walked away.

"Dinner's ready once you two are done fooling around," he called back as he strode away leaving two giggling women watching the ruffled ruler of the Hidden Island.

"That was a great prank," commented Alya as she finally felt her father's presence disappear from her field of magic. "Let's try that again once I have my sight back,"

"My, my Alya, I never knew that you would be as bold as to suggesting what I think you are suggesting, are you?" Alya nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt Rhaenys' finger pull the bottom of her lip, the smell of the older woman touching hers coming closer and closer…and closer, Alya by instinct leaned forward feeling heat grazing her skin thanks to the massive blush…only for Rhaenys to back away.

"You're not planning on kissing me are you Alya?" teased the woman leaving a flustered and bothered looking Princess of Arnor annoyed that had been duped. "Come, let's go wash ourselves and tell your father the results of our journey,"

Allowing herself to be pulled, Alya only scowled as Rhaenys grabbed her hand with a giggle seeing her still reddened face. She never knew that Rhaenys could be such a tease. She mentally made a note to prank back her step-mother once she delivered her thoughts to her father who's not gonna like what she's going to propose at all.

..

..

20 minutes later

"NO! NO! AND IN CASE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND IT NO!"

Alya winced as the powerful thud of his father's palm slammed on the table throwing some of the utensils and food that they are eating scattering on the floor in his fury. Even the servants who are standing at the sides waiting for them to finish eating looked as if they wanted to be anywhere but here in range of the king's ire.

Alya herself isn't afraid to admit that she's scared shitless at the rage of her father. She had never seen Sirius angry before, not even when he fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Not even the scolding she got for being too reckless and losing her eyes didn't compare to this. Sirius is literally fuming and it took a little mind-spying using her step-mother's eyes (who had thankfully stayed neutral at her proposal), to see that Sirius is not only angry but practically livid as his entire face darkened and looked like a tomato with all the pent-up rage he was holding. There's only one problem.

Alya is as headstrong as he is and will never back down once she'd made a decision.

"Father, you know as well as I do that the rising fame of our nation won't be ignored forever," pleaded Alya hoping Sirius would see reason. "We've all discussed this ever since we broke out of our isolation policy a few years back. Already my sources are saying that some of the princes of Yin Ti have stopped arguing with one another on plots and backstabs and are discussing plans on invading us for our nation's riches. Even some of the leaders of the Free Cities are taking into consideration the fact of allying themselves to one another and wiping us out for our growing reputation. Heck even the so-called Wise Masters of Slaver's Bay are itching a go at us for our people to be made into slaves. We need to secure our borders and gain some powerful allies before the fighting even comes to us!" reasoned Alya hoping that she could let her father see reason and not be blinded by the urge to protect his family and let her go.

"Let them come," growled the King of Arnor simply slumping on his high-backed chair. "None have ever get passed the Sea of Mists and eve if they do, they would still face the defenses of the Argonath. We have three hundred thousand capable men here in Minas Tirith alone; surely we could defend against any army that dared to attack us,"

"We can! But how many of our people will have to die to result to that. Surely you have read the reports as I did about the Sea of Mists, pirates and other sea-scum are scouting the waters as best as they can and are mapping it even with the best efforts of the Sea Dragons that lived there. It won't be long before they can finish something close enough that they could send a large force that could breach it. And you and I as well as everyone here knows what would happen once they navigate the Sea of Mists," pointed out Alya. "Not even the Sea Dragons living on the waters can take down hundreds of ships and the Mermen that called that place home won't dare interfere if something akin a force that large passes through,"

"Fine! You made your point. But I still don't see the reason why you should go to that kingdom where the Mad King ruled," growled Sirius. "I understand your desire as to why you wanted to secure a powerful ally for us that is strong enough to scare the other nations on backing off, but isn't risking your neck to be burned by a man whose likely going to burn you than to treat with you more damaging to our country than not allying with them. Let us be honest with each other Alya, the moment any more danger comes to you, I won't be able to stop our people from tearing limb from limb whoever it is unlucky enough that is responsible for it,"

"Your father's right Alya," Rhaenys for the first time ever since the argument started spoke interjected, holding Alya's clenched hands in concern. "Word from our merchants and soldiers that traded on other cities is that the Mad King is looking high and low for you. Apparently he wants you to be the bride for his son, but knowing you, you won't wed this person even if he beat you senseless. And my descendant unfortunately if my hunch is right doesn't take the word "no" with much grace," apparently Rhaenys' isn't happy when she got hold of the annals of the Kings of Westeros with most of them going mad or just stir fry crazy. The former Queen of Aegon is more than happy to stay away from them as much as possible at the moment, unable to believe that her descendants are causing more harm than good, something that is exactly the opposite that she and her former husband dreamed of when they united the Seven Kingdoms.

"Besides you know as well as I do that going out there and prancing as royalty would make them aware of the magic on our land," pointed out Sirius seriously. (No pun intended).

Even Alya winced at the small reminder of her father. Apparently other than awakening magical creatures and literally filling the air with magic, Sirius and Alya (with a little help from Rhaenys and the High Lords) discovered one of Arnor's largest gifts and probably its secret that would bring it down to the grave if anybody ever set foot here; the blessing of longevity. Those who dwelt long and have been borne on the island lived longer and aging literally slowed. Sirius who is supposed to be on his late thirties looked and acted like a young man on his early twenties and so is Alya, the three years didn't even make a dent on her. Of course this realization only caused the Arnorians to tighten up security ten-fold and the defenses of the Argonath and the Sea of Mists increased.

"I've already got a solution to that," Alya said simply inclining her head to her father and step-mother that is ganging up on her to forget this idea. She appreciated their concern of course, no one would mention it to her, but Alya gleaned enough through Legilimency on the servants to know that Sirius is worried sick for her when they brought her wounded and even Rhaenys who had been close to her when she's informed of Alya's slightly disastrous adventure on Dorne that made the sand people its allies took the time to have a heart to heart stern talking down on the blind girl. Alya personally thought it's unfair to be chided by the two adults. (She may be cunning and cold at times, but she's still a growing girl at heart that nobody but her immediate family, Imrahil and the Five High Lords saw).

"I'm not going as Alya Black," she began seriously hoping that her tone would keep the two from cutting her off mid-sentence. "I'm going as Alleia Windlane, personal handmaiden and messenger of the High Princess Alya Black and Fairie," she held a hand as the two swelled up like a bullfrog on their protests. "Nobody knows that the High Princess of Arnor is blind except for those of us who live here. I could easily go out there-,"

"And get yourself stringed up and burned," cut off Sirius. "The Mad King will still demand that you bring the "Princess" and I doubt you could just kick him off and say "No","

Alya merely raised an eyebrow in reply. "Good thing then that I am not meeting the King. Word has spread through every important noble on the cities that the Prince Rhaegar, the son of the Mad King Aerys is holding a tourney to gain allies. The good news about this is the king isn't invited into it. We could propose the Alliance into Rhaegar who according to rumor is of sound mind and had the signs of being a very much better ruler than his father. Meeting a personal envoy from the Princess heiress of Arnor would interest him enough to give guest right and that alone will ensure our safety and allow us sanctum under his roof. Westerosi people believed in Guest Right highly and even the wickedest of them all would rather saw his arm than break that sacred act,"

"Wait, did you just said our?" asked Sirius not failing to notice the word that his daughter used.

"Of course," smiled Alya in a way that screamed "I always have a plan". "Imrahil and the entirety of the Knights of Dol Amroth are coming with me alongside sixty of my personal…..watchers,"

"Hm..then maybe she could go love," suggested Rhaenys placing a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder at the amount of….resources her daughter is planning to bring. "With them around, even I won't be afraid on going there too,"

Sirius just face palmed as Alya grinned victoriously at her step-mother and best friend.

..

..

"Rhaenys! How's my dear little niece? How's my dear little niece eh?"

Elia Martell only smiled softly and sadly as she watched her three year old daughter escape her clutches to ran as fast as she could on her short legs to her uncle "Oby," clinging to his leg, her head barely reaching the height of his knees.

"Ohh, how's the little dragon eh?" asked Oberyn lifting the little girl to his eye-level, nuzzling her nose with his own earning happy giggles from the small princess as he handed her a small stuffed plushie of a snake that isn't seen on Westeros markets much to the delight of the young princess as she hugged it to her chest.

"Oberyn," Elia approached her older brother who bent down to give her a kiss on the brow.

"Missed you a lot Elia, how come you've never visited. I wonder if you don't love me anymore,"

Elia only rolled her eyes at her brother's antics being well familiar with them now. "You know as well as I do that I had to watch over Aegon, that boy is barely one year old and he's already cranky as you when you are younger. Thank the Mother that you arrive and I could take a break to welcome you and leave him for the nurses to care back there at the moment,"

"Glad to see that the Martell blood is thicker than that of the dragons then," laughed Oberyn loudly taking time to waggle his eyebrows at some of the ladies in the court who giggled at his attention quite pleased to notice the brother of the queen as Elia led her to the suites of her personal use.

"Oh stop that Oberyn, and be wary of what you say here. Aerys had eyes and ears everywhere thanks to the Spider and a comment like that would mark you suspicious already," warned Alya making sure that no one's behind them. "And stop flirting with the ladies. I'll not have you bed half the women of the court, especially before we are going at the Tourney on Harrenhall,"

"Fine, fine I'll stop on the treason thingy and you don't have to worry about me bedding the women here sister. I've had my satisfaction for the next five years except for my paramour during my last visit to Arnor," replied Oberyn remembering the fond memories of his third trip to the Island Kingdom. (Memories of him trying to catch beautiful dryads and mermaids buck naked at least)

"You've been to Arnor?" asked Elia surprised. She did not know about that.

"Yes, three times in fact in three years. I'm surprised Doran did not tell you," answered Oberyn shocked that their eldest did not deign to inform Alya of his detours when he travel away from Dorne.

"Hurry, let's go to my suite and you're telling me everything,"

..

..

..

Sorry if I haven't updated for so long. Thesis Chapter One is hard work. Anyway Please Review. Im going to type more AN Tomorrow, Im just so tired now.

Review.

*Chapter 15*: Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

-Motto of House Black

..

..

Jacques Fishpool yawned on what he could guess would be the umpteenth time as he readjusted his butt on the completely uncomfortable chair which he is sitting at. Letting his eyes glaze over the ramshackle buildings of Maidenpool that belonged to House Tully, he can't help but scoff, cursing and wondering if he got the worst job of all, sitting here watching over ships that might land on the small port of the small town, which is also the main port of Riverrun. All he does here on this lonely tower is sit, drink, look, sleep, eat and repeat the process all over again. Sure an incoming ship might come every once in a while, but they are merchant traders that he is now so familiar that it no longer held no interest on him. Heck, even an Ironborn invasion he would welcome with open arms if only to get rid of the boredom that is settling on him.

Groaning as he rearranged his butt to be a little comfortable on the extremely uncomfortable stool with the pathetic excuse of being called a chair, Jacques raised his leather flask to his lips only to frown as he felt none of the sweet embrace of wine touch his flesh. He mentally cursed as the realization sets in that the flask is now empty. The thought of climbing down the wooden tower and to the inn made him growl, the tower isn't exactly short and Jacques himself is already aging and his belly is protruding from his leather armor with all the inactivity of being the harbor watch. Walking down the staircase for someone as him isn't thrilling the very least.

Yawning once more as he resigned himself for the next five hours in boredom before his replacement comes, Jacques righted himself in the best comfortable position he could find as he set his eyes at the direction of the sea boredly half-lidded in sleepiness; only to snap open back in shock and surprise.

Standing upright with all former inhibitions of sleepiness and boredom now gone, he peered once more at the distance making sure to wipe his eyes with dirt grimed hands to make sure that they're not seeing some premonition or imagination that might be the cause of the too much wine he had consumed. It remains there still slowly approaching and skimming across the large waves of the shore of Maidenpool and heading straight for its docks.

He immediately acted, grabbing the worn horn that hasn't been used for the past few years with the Ironborn not attacking the port town; putting the horn in his lips, Jacques blew three ringing sounds to alert the town watch down below him, the signal that unknown ships are approaching the docks. Once sure that the town guards are fully aware of what's happening, Jacques grabbed his own spear as he watched the six magnificent beautiful Swan ships of White bearing the symbol of the White Tree on a field of black with seven silver stars on it gain closer to the ships before descending down also to meet these foreigners that everybody is talking about to ask whether they come for peace or war.

..

..

Rhaegar Targaryen watched in impassive voice as the number of lords entered the tourney grounds, a plethora of flags and colors with a different sigil each nearly making him nauseated from all the mixture of rainbow colors. However despite his impassive face, the relief could clearly be seen on his eyes as the banners of the allies he had managed to convince among the major houses on his side are present on attendance. He knew that he would need their support if he ever plans to dispose of his father and crown himself as king to finally give peace to the kingdom which had suffered under the whims and vices of the Mad King.

A small cackle made him frown as he saw the said man insult his wife sitting at a bench below him. Normally he would not bother himself on being worried for Elia being used as a verbal punching bag by his father. The woman is sickly and unable to fulfill anymore the prophecy that Rhaegar sorely needs for the three-headed dragon that will save the world. He would care for her as his duty, but he wouldn't hesitate on finding the third head of his dragon. However out here in the open where she could be openly degraded in the view of everyone is a big hit for House Targaryen not united and he knew he should keep a lid on his father's insults to his wife at least until they get back on the confines of the Red Keep.

"Father, may I talk to my wife for a second?" Rhaegar requested trying not letting the sound of his grinding teeth be heard by the man that he had so respected once before. The fact that said madman tried groping the shapely rear of his wife in public and in front of everyone nearly made him explode. Not because of concern for her mind you, but the fact that his image of being a weakling to be pushed around by his father is in full view.

"Of course, of course hehehe," the sad excuse of a father cackled as he then began muttering to himself, his beady black eyes turning this way and that causing anyone with a healthy dose of self-preservation not to meet.

"Are you alright?" asked Rhaegar, still holding Elia, once sure that the two of them are out of earshot by his father. Once more he struggle not to wince at the pathetic excuse of a shivering sick woman, Elia is. She is not a dragon who is unlike his mother, bearing her troubles and fears beneath her, undaunted and unafraid.

"As well as I can be," the Dornishwoman answered looking frail as he let go of her arm. "I thought that he would not come for the tourney here,"

"So did I," grunted Rhaegar as he looked back at the set up tent that his father resided. It has been years since his father left the Red Keep thanks to his paranoia. The fact that he left it and attended a tourney that his son personally graced was something that no one had expected.

And it's bad news for Rhaegar. Either someone tipped him off about his plans to discuss his planned rebellion here, or his father's starting to lose trust in him, which is worse since he might be one of his father's immolated victims in wildfire.

That doesn't fit the plant at all. Most imperative of his plans after all was based on his father's faith in him and betraying him without causing the kingdom to degrade into chaos. If he failed on any factor of that regard, what would result is a civil war that he can't allow no matter the cost. One of his children after all would be the Prince-that-was-promised and him having a kingdom divided to rule wouldn't be something Rhaegar could ever allow.

"You better go find our daughter Elia," Rhaegar sighed as he realized the awkwardness of him and his wife standing there with each other. Mind you, this is one of those rare occurrences where she and him remained in each company that long other than their marriage bed. "You knew as well as I do that she would feel uncomfortable without you with her,"

"Of course my Pr-," Elia never finished her words as the sound of a rider made the two look at one of the heralds bearing the Targaryen crest approaching them. He had a look of pure excitement and astonishment on his face as he forced the horse to stop and dismount to bow in front of them.

"Your grace! Important message from the west gate of Harrenhal; foreigners bearing the banners of the kingdom of Arnor have been reported being seen riding towards the gate your grace. Lord Whent requires your permission to deny or allow them entrance your Grace," the messenger huffed the words quickly.

Now that's quickly uncalled for. Normally Rhaegar would not have bothered being interested in more guests since Westeros is known far and wide for its tourneys (something that the Free Cities seldom hold). It is not rare to have guests from other lands to attend such events. However having the new renowned and rich Kingdom of Arnor send delegates for the first time is something that he never expected to happen. The Hidden Kingdom after all is greedily guarding their borders and not even the bravest of sailors returned on any foolhardy quest to map the way there. To see them here is just….too surprising.

Before Rhaegar could speak out the words that they would allow them passage immediately (he would never waste an opportunity, even with a crazed father or not), he was cut off surprised as his wife beat him to it.

"Grant them entrance immediately!"

..

..

Robert Baratheon preferred to live free. Unlike his younger brother, Stannis, he enjoyed not being bound by responsibilities and rules. That's the reason why that despite the fact that their parents died and he being the supposed to be new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, he still stayed at the Eyrie where he was with his best friend and brother in everything by blood, Ned Stark. He of course never heard the end of it from his foster father, Jon Arryn, and from Ned, but he ignored them as best as he could. He preferred life this way, running around hunting, visiting brothels (as long as his allowance on money empties), sparring, going on adventure with Ned and Jon and wooing unsuccessfully his soon to be fiancé, Lyanna Stark. Stannis can handle the Stormlands with the Maester there guiding him alongside his youngest brother, Renly. Gods only know that his brother's well-suited to that task than he ever would be. If not for the fact that he would have absolute power over the Stormlands high enough status to marry his fiancé, he would happily throw the hat on being Lord Paramount to Stannis for all its worth. It's all responsibilities…responsibilities...responsibilities, and Robert simply hated being responsible (something that the Lord of the Eyrie tried unsuccessfully to beat into him). Having something tie him down is simply a big no for Robert Baratheon; lessens the time on him chasing women around.

So here he is currently, attending the Tourney at Harrenhall with his foster father and brother. Apparently Jon Arryn has some kind of understanding with Prince Rhaegar and the lord of the Eyrie chose to attend the event. Of course never one to miss events where there are a great abundance of beautiful ladies (and Lyanna being there), Robert went with him and Ned (since his family is also in attendance).

And currently just like everyone else that doesn't have to look over at propriety, Robert found himself sprinting at the gates to see the commotion that caused the entirety of Harrenhal's population, guests included heading there. Two minutes before, news spread like wildfire that the banners of the reclusive Kingdom of Arnor have been spotted heading towards the castle. With the rising kingdom whose renown is spreading far and wide throughout the world, nearly every noble worth his salt in this tourney of course would be plain stupid to ignore the opportunity.

"Robert over here!" the familiar voice of his foster brother made Robert turn towards an elevated set of barrels where Ned along with Brandon (whom Robert got along magnificently thanks to the similarity o their hobbies), have managed to secure for themselves to get the best elevated view on the entrance of the castle.

"Thank the Seven you guys managed to find a good spot for watching," huffed Robert, wiping the large amount of sweat that culminated on his brow. The fight against the throng to reach the elevated two has not been easy.

"Privilege on being the heir of the North Robert," grinned Brandon helping the large Baratheon up with them. He made a nod to his best friend who said nothing, his face remaining stoic living up to his name of being known as the Quiet Wolf. "Look! Here they come," the call of Brandon Stark made Robert turn his attention from Ned to the entrance gates.

The first one that came out of the shadow of the gates of course is no one else but a herald that belonged to House Targaryen, the red and black armor he wore is more than enough proof of that. What followed him though is what everyone is waiting for.

Riding through the gate in pairs, came the most regal riders that Robert has ever seen. Armored in silver and blue they came. Each of them held spears elegantly made, that Robert would bet his Warhammer cost a fortune each. Atop their heads are crescent like helmets also made of silver, the face open showing handsome faces each. At their backs waving through the air are capes of darkened blue with also wisps of silver. The design was so elegant and envious that it far outstripped the best design that tailors in King's Landin can ever hope. At the middle of their breastplates is the carved design of a swan resembling the banner that one of them carried, a plain blue one with a silver swan flying.

The foot soldiers that marched behind them marched by four are no less impressive. Unlike the riders, they are clad in silver and black with winged helmets each. A face mask covers each of their faces showing only their eyes. They also carried spears with almost the same quality as the riders did. The only difference of their armor is the fact that their capes' colors are black and at their chest insignia is that of the silver tree, the royal banners of Arnor.

All in all they look impressive as they marched in Robert's opinion. He had never seen troops looking so regal. No knight could match the aura they put out; the aura of being safe and protected seeing them. And not even the bronze armored troops of Highgarden and the strict companies of Casterly Rock can ever match the discipline of their troops. Compared to these soldiers, they look like children playing march, and that's the trained troops, the levies not included.

However the next person that appeared out of the shadow of the gateway made Robert's breathe hitch at the middle of his throat. For in front of him just appeared the most desirable of women in the planet. Her attire is vulgar to the very best of mentioning. It is colored white and skin tight that showed a lot of skin leaving nothing to the imagination. In fact the only things covered by her attire are parts of her stomach showing off her navel and the sides of her hips. It goes down to cover the entirety of right leg where a long white boot finished it. Her left leg is bare from her outer thighs downward where the other boot reaches only to her ankles. The same can be said for her arms. At her right is a long glove that extends to her elbow with a wing design while the left is bare for the entire world to see. Her chest is covered by a gold designed breastplate that showing off her upper chest and her shoulders and large tracts of her back bare. On her neck is the same skintight cloth hiding hugging her slender neck that reached to her lower chin. A half-helmet sat atop her head covering her eyes to the middle of her head of greyish silver with intricate designs accentuating the long golden tresses that fell on her back. Robert was sure that if not for the white long cape, clipped at her back, the males watching would have died from blood loss. As it is, he himself thought that the person riding the white mare sideways could be nobody else but the Maiden incarnate. For someone as beautiful as that can be no human.

In a way he was right.

..

..

"I never knew that I would garner such attention," commented Alya beside him making Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth scowl. He had thought that with Alya adopting a different personality and identity, their coming here would lessen attention and interest. He should have known that having such a tease as Alya around, attention always follow them around like a bloodhound. With the entirety of the male population ogling the disguised Princess of Arnor, Imrahil would bet his helmet that he would be beating males left and right to keep her safe. The King after all promised him bodily harm if anything happens to his beloved daughter; and believe it or not, Imrahil preferred having his balls not reduced to peanut sizes. He still has to marry damnit.

"Here comes the cavalry," Imrahil muttered at his steed towards Alya as he noticed a silver-haired man approaching them with a large number of guards.

"That must be Prince Rhaegar, the heir,"

"Gee, thanks for stating the obvious Princess,"

Alya only snorted as he stepped down from his horse to help her down as propriety dictated. He made sure not to look Alya in the eye as his hands grazed the soft skin at the slits on her hips. It would be bad if King Sirius finds out that he looks at his daughter as a potential wife later. The soldiers of Arnor around them made a protective circle, slowly making the gathered crowd back away as the taller humans stared down at them.

Bowing with an inclination of their heads at Prince Rhaegar, Imrahil stepped forward covering Alya with his large bulk and armor from the view of the Prince that have stepped in front of them (along with the soldiers behind him tyring to ogle Arnor's beloved Princess).

"I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, commander of the Swan Knights of Arnor. To whom am I speaking?" his hand instantly going to the sword at his hip thanks to his overprotectiveness. The action did not go unnoticed by the guards who stood at the side of their prince weapons leveled until he waved them off, his piercing violet eyes meting his in the same sternness…and is that respect?

"I am Rhaegar Targaryen of House Targaryen, crown Prince of Westeros. I thank you for attending this tourney of hours. I must say that we did not expect your coming else we would have made more accommodations for your comfort. If I may be so bold Prince Imrahil. What is the name of the fair maiden at your side?" inquired Rhaegar.

Before Imrahil could properly say anything, Alya however cut him to it as she stepped forward bowing down in a way that show a lot of her covered upper chest that made Rhaegar's eyes twitch, unable to keep them off from staring before recovering quickly as he focused at her covered helmet instead.

"My name is Alleia Windlane. I am one of Princess Alya's handmaidens and I am a Fairie your grace. The pleasure's mine on finally meeting you," said Alya and Imrahil didn't miss the cunningness tinging her voice. Oh the game is on now.

..

..

So that's that another chappie done. Hihihi Sorry for the long update. Im super busy with life these days. As for the appearance of the characters, I imagined the Knights of Dol Amroth looking like the Elven Riders in The Hobbit Part 1, the guards of Elrond there. And Imrahil's armor is that of the Phoenix King. The guards of Alya of course are the Tower of the Guard design in LOTR. And as for Alya, her attire I designed is that of Angewomon in Digimon Tri. Lols I know its very vulgar, so sue me hihihiihi.

PS: Till next time readers. Im still trying to finish Drabbles of the Royal Family.

PS: Recommendations please for any GOT true blooded son of Baratheon fics that is complete and nice. (no Sansa pairing please).Thanks.

PS: If you have any questions or recommendations, just PM me readers.

*Chapter 16*: Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

-Motto of House Black

..

..

To say that Prince Rhaegar is caught by surprise would be the complete understatement of the century as he sat on one of the more private tents that littere d the outside of Harrenhall. The castle apparently despite its massive size is nowhere near as comfortable for stuffy nobles to stay on long periods; resulting to majority of them pitching their tents outside on the grounds to give themselves more privacy. The Game of Thrones after all doesn't just stop because someone is celebrating something. Even Prince Rhaegar has his own agenda in his visit on this affair after all.

All agendas about the realm and his father however is currently not on his mind as he stared at the rather illegally beautiful Arnorian who looked terribly normal and unpeturbed despite the fact that she's facing the Crown Prince of a nation who had zero diplomatic relations with hers; a nation that had been trying and failing to be in contact with hers for many years already.

"So...Lady Alleia," began Rhaegar awkwardly. Her attire's so terribly distracting that it takes a lot of effort on his part not to let his eyes wander on the massive amounts of skin she's opting in display. She may be blind but the massive figure with the big-assed sword standing behind her isn't. Rhaegar would be that that sword isn't just for show.

"Please your grace, just Alleia would be fine. I am nothing more than the handmaiden of Princess Alya Black. I am neither a noble or anything of that ilk," interrupted the blonde woman raising a hand to cut him off with a small smile.

"Of course...Alleia;. If I may asky my lady. What brought you here in Westeros?"

It's only a split second but Rhaegar didn't miss the small smirk that adorned her face before it returned to its neutral form. "Is it so hard to imagine that Ijust came for the sights your grace? Westeros after all is well-known for the tourneys, its houses hold every now and then,"

He had to admit, she's right in a way. It isn't unusual after all for foreigners to visit some of the tourneys of Westeros. However for someone in Arnor to actually visit is suffice to say... mindboggling. This is the people that takes great pains not to mingle more than necessary to others. Their isloationist nature is well-known to the larger world that every tidbit of information about their country is greatly valued in the information trade among countries and leaders; especially about the unbound heiress of the country. To see someone of their people here for no other reason than a social call is highly suspicious. The fact that she's also escorted by an entourage that makes the best of the Kingsguard look like little boys on their presence only added to the intrigue. If not for the fact that this Alleia Windlane is blind, he would have suspected that this is the Princess of Arnor in disguise. Still, what she said about her being a simple handmaiden of Princess Alya Black is still highly questionable. He'll humor her for notmentioning it now though. At least she knows how to play the Game of Thrones and that's respectable, if not irritating.

"Let me be the first one to welcome you to Westeros then Alleia. I hope you'll enjoy your stay here with us. A;though you'll forgive my curiousity though if I ask a lot about your country. Very little do we know about it and I had always been a man of knowledge despite being a prince,"

She only waved one slender hand at him. "Understandable your grace. We still have time now. What do you want to know?"

Like every male present that had witnessed her arrival, the heir of Westeros asked the first question that any self-respecting of his gender would ask.

"Are you married Lady Alleia?"

..

..

"This is so unfair! That stuck-up prince! Why is he hogging all her attention to himself?!" harrumped a very irritated heir of the North giving the two others sitting on one of the jutting stones a great deal of amusement as he paced back and forth like a caged dog; or in this case a caged wolf.

"Come on Brandon, it's not like as if she's going to give you the time with the line that you had to wait to get even the chance to have an audience," Ned, ever the diplomatic consoled his older brother who only scowled at his words.

Him, Robert and his brother have returned here at the Stark tents to rest once the excitement of having the entourage from Arnor started to dissipate. The topic however changed from "why are those people here " to "who is that beautiful woman?". And as expected by Ned, his older brother can't sit still when he had someone in sights to bed. In this case, that woman which is trouble in intself. He'll bet his right hand that despite her "unorthodox" looks. She's ranking enough on Arnorian nobility to have a guard that large.

Not that it would deter his brother any way. He got an inkling feeling that he might even relish the challenge.

"He's right Bran," Robert added jovially as usual at Ned's side. "Besides, isn't Lady Catelyn attending this tourney to meet you? What would she think if she knows that her supposed husband-to-be is pining after some woman that is not her?" he asked though his face turned dreamy the next moment. "Though I won't blame you for daydreaming on that Arnorian woman; the very sight of her tits are glorious and that ass! I never saw an ass that firm. I tell you boys, that body is made for fucking!"

Brandon made a noise in his throat that somehow sounded on a combination of a choke and a snort as he continued pacing, his eyes darting now and then to the tents that belonged to the royal family. Ned only sighed as his brother kept going back and forth. He made a mental note to keep an eye on him at the duration of this tourney. Their father is not here and it would be up top him to rein Brandon. The wolf's blood after all is strong on him and Ned would not be surprised if he does something impulsive.

..

..

For Tywin Lannister, the arrival of the Arnorians on this tourney is sufficed to say, a source of headache for him. One, no one expected for any of those people to actually attend the tourney. It goes against their isolationist ways and for them to suddenly appear here with a full contingent of guards, which he didn't count to happen. Second, his plans to wed Jaimie to the Arnorian princess just turned a lot more deadlier. Aerys being Aerys, Tywin doesn't know how his former best friend would react to the new arrivals. Knowing the Mad King though, it is something related to wildfire and executions. Westeros (and his House alongside) can't afford that. If that island country goes to war with them, there's no telling who would win. Arnor might not be as numerous as the population of Westeros, but they have better arms, better resources and most importantly, friends in many high places. If there is a war, it would be bloody and whoever would win will still feel the losses. He can't afford that to his House, especially not when he's just starting on their way to greatness. Not to mention he can't get into Arnor's goodwill to marry his son off to their princess if they are at war with each other.

"How dare that slattern whore attract Prince Rhaegar's favor!" and that's the last problem which he can do without at the moment.

He had brought Cersei and Jaimie alongside with him in order to secure good marriage proposals for them (or at least for Cersei). Ever since the Mad King retracted his request of wedding his daughter to his son, Tywin tried to settle on the next best thing, try to wed her to one of the heirs of the Lord Paramounts; not that it's going so well at the moment. Not with his daughter still acting like a nitwit on a make-believe hopes that she would be the princess royale of the throne; and to add injury to insult, his son and heir-to-be hang on her every word disregarding his plans for him to one day marry the heiress of Arnor.

"That girl is a whore! A cheater! A backstabbing thief of my beloved prince that's-,"

Okay that's it. Doing his best to tune out his daughter's next raucous words, Tywin gestured for his captain of the guard to follow him as he stepped out of the tent. The blessed silence of her daughter made him sigh in contentment as he schooled his features to one of seriousness that belied his reputation. It won't do after all if the people around him regard him to anything less than what he believes them to think.

..

..

While her very presence is causing enough ruckus among the nobles to wake the dead, said object of their arguments however felt free as she walked among the rows of tents, each bearing their own sigil that represent their houses. The tourney will start this afternoon and Alleia a.k.a Alya has time to spare before she had to attend. Of course the tourney itself doesn't interest her. The nobles and the knights however that would be watching and participating on it is another matter. While Westeros is a little more civil compared to the different Magistrate cities of Essos, she won't blindly bind an alliance to them, not without assessing the people managing the leadership at least. As far as she can see so far, she isn't impressed.

SQUELCH!

"Yuuucck!" the rather irritated voice of Imrahil made Alya grin as she turn her head upward to the much taller Prince of Dol Amroth whose visage through the magic waves is harboring an annoyed impression.

"What's the matter Prince Imrahil?" Alya asked amid the sounds of quiet cursing beneath the man's breathe. She could feel the man's already sour mood plummet even further as he tried to wipe his armored boots on the grass. Alya wasn't surprised at his rather testy character. He had been against this trip for the beginning and he only went since A.) Alya is going with the expedition, with or without him (and he would never let her out of her sight outside Arnor if he can help it.) B.) Sirius personally asked him to watch over her. As it is, the two of them are here and now, him acting as "Alleia's guide" since she's blind.

"I stepped on shit!" he groused unhappily, the sounds of metal scratching earth emitting from below.

"Oh,"

"Yes oh!" his rather sarcastic tone replied. "We've been here less than an hour and already I wanted nothing more than to leave this place and go back home,"

"Come on Imrahil," chided Alya as he finished cleaning his boot, one wordless "Scourgify" later fully cleaning it without anyone noticing.

"Thank you,"

"Think nothing of it," she simply waved off before intertwining her hands with his arm to continue their ruse. "I'm glad you're here Imrahil. Believe it or not, my sight here is rather limited thanks to the large number of unknown people,"

"Really?"

"Yes," she nodded simply. "At Arnor, the magic there made the Legilimency that I have active always easy to flow through the people's minds. With the land so saturated with natural magic, it is almost like flowing water for me to observe,"

"What do you mean…Alleia?" asked Imrahil in a bit of confusion. Like the other leaders of the major cities of Arnor, Imrahil has been made privy of Sirius' and Alya's ability to manipulate magic. Apparently their friendship with her father is strong enough that the dogfather trusted them his and Alya's greatest secret.

"What I'm saying that this land not just lack magic, it is starved by it. I can feel it in the air; I can smell it on the water, even the land scream for it. With all these factors thrown in, I can only guess that magic once roamed these lands, and not in minute detail too else the land would have forgotten it already. No, something happened here. Something to make communicating with the land painful for me; that connecting to it simply feels likes scratching broken glass,"

"And that bothers you how?" asked Imrahil in concern.

Alya only gave him a pained smirk. "It means that using the very method that I am using right now to see is not going to be an option soon. Continuing it in large amounts of time here is giving me a serious headache that I have to take long bouts of rest else I would rip my head in two. In all ways I am…,"

"Blind," finished Imrahil for her now in alarm mode. "It's not too late my pri-… Alleia," he caught himself just in time. "We can go back the way we came. There is no point in continuing this expedition anymore, not when it endangers your life. It would take a day at least of non-stop ride from hereto the harbor. We can make it if we leave now,"

"No," answered Alya stubbornly. "We can't just leave, not when we're here already,"

"Alleia don't be stupid. This treaty of yours doesn't mean much for anyone. Arnor can stand and will stand even without these people's help. There's no need for us to be here. Your father only agreed to this thanks to your insistence and valid points. But I would bet that even he will call off this expedition once it becomes detrimental to your health!"

"I'm blind Imrahil, not obsolete!" hissed Alya flaring her magic to make sure that no one is in hearing vicinity that might here their argument.

"I know you're not. But that doesn't change the fact that the circumstances here have changed. I know that you're not used to being blind, not when you can still see with your magic. Tell me Alleia, would you be truly alright if you are fully blind?"

"I-," Alya paused as what Imrahil said made sense to her mind. He's right in a way; she's not truly used on being blind. Last time that happened to her, she had fully panicked and only the realization that she can still see using her magic made her pull herself together. Being that helpless Alya never wanted to fee again; a helplessness where you can do nothing but sit powerless to it; a helplessness that she also felt when Sirius fell to the Veil of Death. Still…

"You're right. In a matter of hours I would be blind, helpless and useless," she finally admitted.

"My lady…,"

"But we're still staying!" she insisted despite the exasperated sound that Imrahil made at her stubbornness. "At least until the tourney's end Imrahil. It's the least that propriety demands without making it look like an insult. Besides…," a confident smile graced her face as her hold on the Prince of Dol Amroth's arm tightened a bit. "I have you watching over me, that's why I am not afraid,"

"Of course you can say that simply. Your father would string me up on my toes and feed me to the water dragons after transfiguring me to a pig if ever one strand of your hair gets damaged!" grumbled Imrahil though Alya could sense the amusement rolling off him in waves, and is that pride?

"So we're staying?"

"Only until this blasted tournament ends. After that we're going home and NO OBJECTIONS!" snapped Imrahil making Alya wither at the glare he pinned at her. For some reason, Imrahil can become quite scary when he's taking her safety into account; something that Alya really really doesn't want to be under of; blind or not.

..

..

Imrahil may never voice it, but he's really glad that Alya promised to never peek into his thoughts. Not to mention the fact that his mental shields are strong enough to fool even her. Sirius made sure of that before they have even left. Apparently he does not want his own daughter privy to his instructions to him; and for good reason too in Imrahil's opinion. Alya is stubborn and hard-headed, something she received from her father. While she's logical and intelligent most of the times, when it comes to the matters of the heart, she just can't control herself. She's even willing to sacrifice herself for the good of her people; something that they admired from her. It's the reason why they would fight tooth and nail to keep her from harm's way.

And the duty of that burden lays on his shoulders the most.

This "side-trip" that Alya kept on pressing is sufficed to say, a nuisance in Imrahil's opinion. He's not kidding to her when he said that Arnor can stand on its own against the world. Unlike a large number of Arnorians, Imrahil himself have seen the world before freedom came to him. He had seen the soldiers, the armies, the so-called navies of the other nations. Compare them to the might of Arnor and he is highly skeptical of the enemy's chance to even break through the Argonath. Still, this is Princess Alya's call and he would do his duty to make sure that she is safe.

It's a miracle she still haven't noticed the Rangers that have accompanied them on this journey. If his guess and orders are carried out, those green-cloaked snoops would be spread out all over their campsite already to keep any potential spies out. He just hoped that the graves they've dug is more than enough to bury whatever spies that dared enter their camp perimeter though.

..

..

AN

Sorry for the long update guys. Been busy with school since Finals is almost upon us. Anyway please Review, we'll fast track the chapters in the next few ones for the next update. Hhihihi I've tried convincing Cassie, the original owner of this account to return to writing here, but she's too engrossed in her love life so that's that.

*Chapter 17*: Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

..

..

Eyes dart back and forth in wariness. Samuel knows his mission. Many of his fellow "birds" under the service of the Eunuch have tried and failed on the mission that they have been sent into. Now it is his turn. His small feet barely made a sound as he moved from cover to cover, taking into the shadows as best as he could. If anybody ever founds out that he is here, his life would become very unpleasant immediately. Such is life for those belonging to the common folk here in Westeros.

The young eight year old darted to another tree as he peered again on the light ahead of him. He has no idea as to why his "employer" wants him to go here. All he knows that he must be near enough on the tents of those newcomers that dressed a lot better than the rest of the lords and ladies that is attending this tourney. His employer wants him to listen to anything, and he would listen, all for that tasty snack his employer always gives him after every time of a job well-done.

However for now, what is needed is for him is to get close enough to the tree line. In his current distance, he would be able to hear nothing.

Eyes darting left and right for anyone that might be able to see him, Samuel immediately dashed for the next cover of the cop of trees, immediately remaining still. He has to admit that sneaking at the morning is very different as to sneaking in the evening. One wrong move is all it's gonna take for the alarm to be raised. Still, Samuel is used to this sneaky work. No one ever does pay any attention to an eight year old after all. That's the reason why he's very good at what he does. He could listen without being noticed.

Peering through the edge of the tree he is hiding at, he could clearly see the banner of the tents he's supposed to be spying on; the white tree with the seven stars clearly shining in the morning sun.

He knows them of course. He's doubtful that anyone in Harrenhall doesn't know about them. He has seen their lady, her vulgar attire and her weird helmet. However it is their soldiers that set them apart. Being a native here in the Riverlands, Samuel has seen his fair share of soldiers in service of one House or another. Most of them are dirty and stride like peacocks as if they own the land, all because of the swords at their waists.

These foreigners though, they look like knights, each and every single one of them. With their winged helmets gleaming on the silver sun, they literally set the bar on how professionally a soldier should act.

Shaking these thoughts away, Samuel settled himself on sitting and resting his back on the trunk of the tree he is hiding at. He has a whole day of listening ahead of him, and it would not do him good if he is stiff and sore.

He never noticed the black shafted arrow that came without warning from the gloom, piercing his head through the left side of his face. From the eaves of the forest, a cowled figure only smiled before disappearing back to the gloom.

..

..

"SMASH!" the sound of wood bashing against metal echoed all around the tourney grounds only accompanied by the cheers and hollers of the crowd.

"Schneider won again my lady," Imrahil whispered to the young woman whom he loved as a sister sitting beside him. "His opponent, the hedge knight has been unhorsed in a single tilt,"

Despite his initial misgivings on letting any Arnorian enter the joust, Imrahil finally coincide to let one of his more hot blooded young soldiers enter with the promise that he not try to kill anybody under incognito as a hedge knight.

"I-I see," the Princess of Arnor in disguise chuckled softly. "Please remind me to congratulate him for a job well done later Imrahil. He has truly proven himself today,"

"I will my lady," Imrahil bowed, making sure to shot an eye glare at Alya's chief maiden to take his place on holding their princess' arm as he goes off to the stands.

For the life of him, Imrahil can't fathom as to the reason why Alya really preferred staying in thrice damnable mud-hole. While she does have some point in her reasoning that staying here could better relations to Westeros. He himself doesn't believe that it would be worth the risk.

He has seen what Westeros has to offer. The nobles are greedy, manipulative, and their conscience seemed to take a vacation in hell. He already knows in his heart that little to no help would come from Westeros. One of his men, disguised as one of their Maesters have accosted one Tyrion Lannister two days ago and might have "permanently borrowed" some of the Imp of House Lannister's books about the history of the Seven Kingdoms. So far, he is not impressed by what he learned, and that is him being generous.

While Westeros is a tad better in Essos what with slavery being banned here, compared to the morality standard of an Arnorian, it is still very bad. Here the rich stayed rich without a care as to who they stepped on and the poor remain poor with no chance of pulling themselves out of the muck they are born in.

At least the North here ruled by the Starks is a little bit better with them being honest instead of the viper pit that is the South," he thought glumly as he approached Schneider who is preparing for the final tilt of the jousting part of the tourney, his opponent, the crown prince himself.

"My lord," the knight bowed in greeting, noticing his approach.

"Schneider," Imrahil returned the gesture with a nod of his own before staring at the Crown Prince of the Realm readying his own jousting spear, his squires checking the horse's straps. "Do you really want to take him on?"

"Of course my lord, for the glory of Arnor and princess Alia, I will unhorse him," proclaimed the knight proudly.

Imrahil only nodded once. He should have expected it. A lot of Arnor's soldiers are fanatical when it comes to the defense on the honor of their princess and their country. While it is good and alright, there is one slight problem that Imrahil wanted to avoid above everything else. That problem is currently cackling, his spittle flying from his mouth as he laughed aloud for no reason at all. Such cackle belonged to a madman. Unfortunately, that madman is a king.

The crown prince, Rhaegar himself approached them two days before the tourney officially started, warning them of his mad father and his "vices". Apparently the Mad King, as he is known here has set his eyes like everyone else on the great island kingdom of Arnor. The only difference is the fact that his madness completely devoids him of whatever reason he has left. According to Prince Rhaegar, his father plans to marry him to the Arnorian princess heiress. His marriage to Elia, did not lessen that obsession one bit, the Mad King reasoning that Targaryens practice polygamy all the time after all.

Thus after discussing it thoroughly with Alya, who for some reason remain stubborn-headed still in her decision to stay here till the Tourney ends at least, the Arnorian party for the last two days did their best to mingle among the crowd of nobles and not attract any undue attention unless absolutely necessary.

Knowing that his soldier won't like it the very least, Imrahil speaks calmly to him. "I need you to be defeated,"

"WHAT?!" Scheider practically hissed making Imrahil raise an eyebrow in return making Schneider splutter as he realized that he had been talking back to one of the High Lords of Arnor.

"I want you to purposefully lose," said Imrahil firmly, making sure that his words would stab through the young man's head. "The Mad King must never know that Arnor is here. You hear me, he must not know. Better that a hedge knight loses against the Crown Prince than said prince being unhorsed by a mere hedge knight. People would start asking where you get your skills and tongues would wag. Do you understand me?"

"I-I understand my lord," Schneider nodded at the order.

Sighing at the sight of one of his younger subordinates being downcast; Imrahil decides to stroke his ego a bit.

"Princess Alya sends her regards. Apparently your performance has impressed her so far," stated Imrahil nonchantly trying not to roll his eyes as the young man's face beamed in happiness looking as if he has won the tournament already.

"Really my lord?" he asked still with that ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

"Okay, enough ego stroking," Imrahil mentally thought as he waved him off.

"Yes, yes, now go, and don't forget your orders!" he called out as the man is practically forcing his horse to skip which is supposed to be impossible on the first plce.

"I won't my lord!" he called out in a too happy tone making Imrahil mentally groan as he walked back towards the direction that his princess is sitting.

He fervently prayed he won't forget losing.

..

..

To say that Cersei is in an apocalyptic rage would be the greatest understatement of the century. Everything seems to be going into plan for the past few days. Her brother (and lover) is finally at the Kingsguard where he could be near to her in the future. She believes (at least according to her conscience), that the gap between Elia Martell, the princess consort and the prince is all because of her doing, meeting the prince yesterday and mentioning the frailty sickness that the princess from Dorne is suffering from, where she no longer has the capacity to bear children.

However when her beloved prince finally sends that dirty hedge knight flying off from his horse (as to be expected of her beloved prince), everything then becomes wrong as her beloved prince crowned not his wife, (and especially her), as his Queen of Love and Beauty, but that whore from the North who loves to roll in the mud and squeal like the pigs.

Cersei was pissed.

Unfortunately she could not pour her rage to the Northern harlot since she and her brothers have finally left for their homes mere moments after the end of the tourney. However she remembers that other whore from Arnor whom the prince showed a lot of interest ever since his arrival. She remembers through her spying (more stalking) of the prince's tent, the whore entering with her guard at the prince's request. She might not be able to get her revenge on the Stark bitch, but she can get rid of the competition from the Island Kingdom whom she believes to be a "possible threat" on her way to her beloved prince's heart.

Alone, she could not do it. However she is not a Lannister for anything. She has learned well from the feet of her father and she knows the rumor mill spanning on the air of King's Landing. Specifically the rumor that the Mad King is searching high and low for a chance to get the Princess of Arnor wedded to his son in a polygamy marriage.

For some reason, nobody ever mentioned to the Mad King that the Arnorians are present in the tourney. The island grubbers must have paid them all off. She's the one who's going to tell the king. The Arnorians would surely resist the Mad King's "interrogations" and he would kill all of them. This would alienate Arnor giving Cersei the perfect results. The visiting island whore would be killed and the chances of agreement for a betrothal between Arnor's princess and her beloved prince would be less than zero.

Yes, she must do this for her beloved prince.

..

..

Everything is supposed to be okay, one moment Alya is being aided by two of her dryad handmaidens packing the last of their things for the trip back to Arnor when out of nowhere, screams surround them making Alya automatically turn on whatever reserves of magic she can conjure to her field of vision. She just managed to put her senses in order when she sees the flap of the tent burst open showing a running Imrahil who then tackled her without any sort of word or explanation.

For good reason to.

Arrows filled with fire immediately pierced the tent and would have skewered Alya thanks to her not being able to see flying objects even with her magic. As it is, it just killed her two handmaidens who is unable to take cover and manage to pierce slightly Imrahil's armor.

That of course upsets Alya greatly.

Alya for simple reasons is a hot head. When her anger comes, it literally explodes. Good example of that are her occasional outbursts during her previous life, living as Harry Potter. Fortunately, her life here at this new world is not that stressful and there are very few to none times that she is forced to show her anger. Unfortunately for the soldiers (and fortunately for the defenders), seeing her pseudo-brother and subject hurt trying to save her finally burst that already filled dam.

Sense of her vision through magic immediately went up in an adrenaline rush taking note of the foes engaging the rest of her guard outside. Magic immediately pings the hostiles to those who are not and in a matter of seconds, sends back the data gathered to Alya. Only one word left her lips and she doesn't even need to shout it.

"Stupefy,"

Bursts of red light immediately left her body in all directions, zipping like snakes, each having a target of its own as it bypassed the tent leathers and headed straight outside. Screams of shock sounded, followed by sounds of bodies falling as each red light manage to find its mark. Cheers immediately came from the Arnor soldiers outside as they now start to make easy targets out of the stunned foes that assaulted them.

As for Alya, she would have fallen from severe magical exhaustion and would have fallen on the ground if not for Imrahil who has taken the lull on the fighting to remove the arrows lodged in his armor catching her on his arms.

"Alya, are you alright?" the voice of her friend and protector sounded foggy to Alya, no wonders there. Three days of being slowly drained thanks to reasons that she still doesn't know, that last bit of magic has cost her a lot.

"Hmm-hmm," mumbled the Princess of Arnor trying hard not to snooze fully as the urge to sleep is slowly becoming tempting every second. Already her eyelids are becoming way too heavy for her liking and the yawns she does not try to suppress any longer. In fact, even Imrahil's armored arms is beginning to be more attractive than the feather pillows in her room at Arnor.

"Don't worry Alya, we'll get you out of here," Imrahil said in her ear in assurance.

Alya just mumbled something even she doesn't understand in recognition as she feels herself being transferred from Imrahil's arms to her back, her arms loping over his neck for him to hold her. Something silky covered her frame and she later would know that it is Imrahil's cape.

"I want to sleep," Alya can't help but mumble as she feels Imrahil moving beneath her.

It is for good reason to. Around them, the entire section dedicated to Arnor's space of tents is burning. Arnorians in full gear and half-gear in a funny mixture of armor and sleepwear are running around trying to ride their horses. Targaryen soldiers are trying to push through but are held slowly by the rearguard of soldiers who volunteered themselves without anyone telling them to. Once more the differences of the Arnorian soldiers are seen compared to their Targaryen counterparts. While the Targaryens hacked and stabbed like a lynch mob, the Arnorians are precise, methodical, no movement being wasted as they counter their enemies. Still the number of enemies is pouring through and the rear guards despite their efforts are slowly being pushed back. Already they have pushed through half of the camp and more than one unfortunate soldier of Arnor finally meets his end.

The only reason in fact that the Targaryens never manage to overrun the camp completely is because of the Rangers that came with them before they arrive here. Scouts and fleet-footed archers, the Rangers with their eighty kilo longbows draw weight constantly bombarded the Targaryen lines with arrows, armor and mail not saving them from the deadly buckshot's. They have been keeping the perimeter of the camp safe and the only reason that the Targaryen soldiers stopped dead on their initial plan on simply charging in when they are met by a hail of arrows.

As it is, Alya clings like a rag doll at the back of Imrahil. She can barely hear the shouting, the cursing, the sounds of men dying, a sound that she is very familiar with thanks to her battle with Voldemort. She could feel someone grabbing him off Imrahil's back and being pushed up to the top of a horse with a pair of arms holding her. She feels the horse run followed by many others as the sound of fire, death and battle reduced, replaced instead with the sounds of the night, owl hoots, the song of cicada and the occasional croak of a frog.

They have successfully escaped in the coming night. Now all that is needed is for them to reach the shores where their ships await.

..

..

Back at the tourney grounds on the empty tent of the Crown Prince of Westeros stands alone a young Dornish woman holding the hands of her young daughter. Even in the gloom, she could see the fires and far ahead, the white incognito hair of Alya. She smiles, thankful that her lover and friend have managed to escape the Mad King's fingers. Her smile however turned predatory as she focused her attention to a tent of gold and red designs with lion markings.

It is time to teach this lioness cub a lesson. Never mess with a friend of a snake for snakes bite back with venom in their fangs.

*Chapter 18*: Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

-Motto of House Black

..

..

2 Weeks after the debacle at Harrenhall

If there is one thing that can describe Imrahil, it would be the fact that he's a realist. Unlike many generals of an army, Imrahil always considered things as they are with hard concrete evidence as proof before making any sort of decision. It's one of the attitudes that made him lift the Knights of Dol Amroth as the best military group in Arnor out of the five cities that compose it.

So when the King of Arnor explodes in incandescent rage after seeing the state of his daughter and the warriors that went to accompany her, Imrahil at all isn't surprised. The added fact that his rage was also aimed at him also didn't escape his notice. In fact it was the logical choice for any king or father in the case. So he cannot blame his old friend for overreacting. That doesn't change the fact though that he enjoyed the flying vase nearly hitting his head.

"What's bloody wrong with that girl?!" the King of Arnor in front of him spat like a demented person, walking back and forth in the royal apartments at the tallest tower of Minas Tirith where he can preserve his privacy and not worry about the servants accidentally going in and see their king in his weakest moments.

"She only cares about the kingdom Sirius. You know that as well as I do," explained Imrahil at his old friend calling him in his real name instead of his formal title. Imrahil only calls him this way when they are locked inside these rooms. "She only does what she believes is right,"

"WHAT SHE BELIEVES IS RIGHT!" roared the King of Arnor gesturing wildly with his hands. "She puts herself in unnecessary risk despite it not being required in the first place and for what?! Nothing!"

Imrahil only sighed as his friend droned on and on with how his daughter acted irresponsibly with her life. He knows as well as the other four morons, I meant four lords currently eavesdropping outside the doors of the private suites of the king that Sirius despite his ramblings understood the reasons behind the actions of his daughter. Even he in fact can see the advantages (despite grudgingly) it would bring if the visit of Alya at Westeros is successful. With the Westerosi at the North as their permanent ally, Arnor would be able to secure its Northern waters and have a buffer against Essos and the pirates and slavers that essentially plagued the waters of nearly….everywhere.

"At least tell me some good news," Sirius finally sighed as he plopped tiredly on one of the soft couches of the room.

"Well…," Imrahil answered sitting at one of the couches receiving a drink from Sirius who has opened one of the wines at his cellar and throwing him a bottle. "No ship has managed to get past the Sea of Mists so far. The sea serpents have made good work on any intruders dumb enough to try. Scout ships on the Mist have also picked up wreckage with banners different from the usual ones that came from Essos. Apparently the Mad King is not yet done trying to find us,"

Sirius simply snorted in his drink as Imrahil heard him mutter beneath his breath something near "He can bloody well try," before gesturing for him to proceed.

"Relations with Dorne so far are good. They have sent another five ships here to trade along with Prince Doran's personal messenger expressing his reassurances that Dorne has no hand whatsoever on the actions of the mad king. They've also pressed on their reassurances that they would continue their alliance with us no matter what their Westerosi said about them,"

"You gotta admire those desert dwellers, they have guts, I'll give them that," smirked the King of Arnor at his drink before turning serious again, no pun intended. "What about my daughter? Is there any progress in her condition?"

This time Imrahil can't keep off the big smile that adorned his face. Finally, news that even he likes. "The healers and the dryads from the Houses of Healing have finally reported back. They apparently have managed to create an experimental gene therapy that would allow our princess to be able to see again. They are still on the experimental stage but they are confident that it would work without a hitch. In two years time, they would be able to restore her sight,"

"That is good, that is good," the words that came from the King of Arnor might be simple, but Imrahil could see that his liege is truly glad with the way his eyes gleamed brighter than normal. "I am truly glad, now is there anything else Imrahil?"

This time the Lord of Dol Amroth hesitated. In being a Lord of Arnor, personal opinions are secondary to the needs of the state, but Imrahil can't help it. Although unsaid, most of the people agree with the thoughts that he is about to say.

"The people are restless Sirius. The news that their princess and heiress apparent is almost assassinated by the Westerosi doesn't agree well with anyone. Suffice it to say, the people are calling for blood. Heck, even the magical creatures does. As well as do I," admitted Imrahil watching the expression of Sirius turn stony, an expression that Imrahil only saw before when they are still fighting at the Fighting Pits.

"So the people want war?" asked the King of Arnor, grey eyes staring deep into the soul of the Lord of Dol Amroth who flinched hard though not pulling his gaze away from the stare.

"No Sirius, not war, never war. We are the mariners first and foremost. Our homes are the mists of the sea that guides and guards us. However even the mists of the sea when bothered can seek fair settlement. The world has never seen the power of Arnor in military might, we will show them that we are not someone they can just trample underneath their feet!"

..

..

Rhaegar wanted to pull his hair out in frustration as he stormed back and forth in the empty tourney ground of King's Landing. It had been so close, so close. He is this close from making a good relation to the representatives of Arnor, and as usual, his father botched it up with his madness once more. Now he can have as much chance as forcing the Septons and Septas of the Seven to convert to the Old gods than having the support of the Arnorians. Hell, he won't be surprised if the Arnorians started landing troops on Westeros' shores due to the unprovoked failed assassination of one of their ladies who has come here to watch simply a tourney. First impression of any Arnorian of importance about the royalty in King's Landing and his father had to screw it up big time. Once more the urge to pull his hair out is getting stronger.

Not that it's all a waste no. While the avenues to make the Island Nation receptive to Westerosi charms just meet a dead end, his quest about the Prophecy of the Prince that was Promised just made a great headway.

Sitting on a nearby stone out of range from the Kingsguard that always trailed after him, Rhaegar Targaryen clutched his temple, rubbing it with two fingers. The dreams of the world being encased in ice are getting stronger even more every time he closes his eyes. He really needs to step up and try to create his three headed dragon to combat the Great Other. Already time is running out. His father is going madder and madder every day. Rhaegar won't put it past his father to burn also him for any perceived slight that he might accidentally imagine.

The only good thing going with him right so far is the direction that his path is gonna take. Already he knows the ice to his fire. He has seen it, the woman that can bring him his three headed dragon and his Prince that was Promised. Her cooperation to the union doesn't really need to be needed. She had a womb and she would be using it for the greater good of all. Either she like it or not, she would be his wife and will bear him a son that his current wife failed to deliver.

Speaking of his current wife, he has already set things in motion that would enable her not to interfere in his plans to bring forth the Prince that was Promised. Elia is a good wife, he won't deny that fact. She's a dutiful princess and a good consort, but she is sick, and very sick since her birth of little Aegon. Now she's nothing more than a trophy wife with her being unable to finish the prophecy of the Prince that was Promised.

Yes, he needed to get rid of her and fast. Not the children though, they would be the two heads for his Winter Rose's third.

..

..

Cersei wanted to scream in frustration as she slumped angrily on the red plush chair on her personal quarters at Casterly Rock. The last two weeks have been utterly hell for her, well not as hell as the small folk lived day by day, but still hell for someone such as her in high standing.

First of all, the Dornish trader that she liked to buy those rock cakes she loved to eat every afternoon stopped coming to Lannisport depriving her of daily sweets. Secondly her spy network that her father insisted she create, mysteriously one by one disappearing, her contacts either disappearing into thin air or simply befalling one accident after another; especially those that she situated in King's Landing. Now she can't get any news from her beloved prince that she had kept tabs on before. His daily habits, his likes and dislikes, how he likes his women to dress and all that such.

As a result of course of her loss of her spy network all over, she has been unable to keep an eye on the Lannister assets that her father entrusted to her to manage; especially the merchants and the troubadours that make up the bulk of Lannister income that isn't related to the Lannister mines. One by one these assets started getting attacked by bandits and scum, easily disappearing in the midst, their goods and artifacts taken and looted bringing a heavy blow to the income of House Lannister. Cersei of course being in charge of them all took the lion's share of anger from her father from the loss of assets.

Thus, here she is sitting at her room, confined to Casterly Rock and unable to do her usual desires thanks to the loss of stipend that her father usually gives to her.

Doing her best not to scream out in frustration at her current situation, Cersei left the comfy seat of her couch making her best to step on the extra layer of cloth that she is sewing just a moment ago to give the servants something extra to work on. She may not be as cunning as her father, but she is a Lannister to. The things that happen to her right after another is not just a coincidence and for the life of her she has no idea who is moving against her in the shadows. Looking out of the windows, her eyes widened as she saw far in the King's Road below the merchant caravan from King's Landing being attacked by bandits.

That is the caravan whom she commissioned to buy a dozen or so new gowns sewn especially for her. Judging from the cheering of the bandits and their leader, an ugly brute of a peasant standing at the top of the leading wagon holding the head of the leader of the merchants; Cersei knew she isn't receiving those new gowns anytime soon.

Once more she resists the urge to shout in frustration as more of her pleasures crumbled around her.

...

..

Pale grey, that is the first thing that greeted her when she opened her eyes. Of course being blind, that color is a constant that she tried getting used to for little success. However it seems that someone noticed her finally awake for calloused fingers filled with torture scars gripped her free left hand.

"Alya," the worried and overjoyed tone of her friend and stepmother greeted her making Alya blink as she let her magic pulse in her usual sensor version of seeing.

"R-Rhae?" she called back looking at the queen of Arnor. "Y-you're here?"

"Of course I'm here , thank Illuvatar you're alright," Rhaenys Targaryen Nee Black wailed nearly suffocating Alya as the blind girl found herself on the receiving end of one of her friend's most infamous "hard" hugs.

"R-Rhae, can't breathe," choked Alya making the older woman immediately back off still sniffling.

"You prat, you absolute prat! Every single time you leave Arnor, you immediately get yourself in danger. You are not leaving the island again without the supervision of me or your father okay!?"

Normally Alya would disagree, however this is not the time to argue. She and Rhaenys have a strong bond with each other that only they can understand despite her being Alya's stepmother. Rhaenys despite her "fine" outward appearance that she projects to anyone that might see her, including Alya's father, is anything but fine. Her recent torture at the hands of House Uller and her magical imprisonment have left their mark on her. When they first met each other, it took almost all of Alya's magical energy to piece back the mind of the former Targaryen queen piece by piece. In fact it is almost as complicated as a soul weave back at her original timeline to put back everything together.

As a result of course of her intervention and her subsequent mangling of Rhaenys' broken mind, it managed to made side-effects that even Alya did not expect. That of course is Rhaenys holding Alya as a lifeline to reality. Like an anchor, Rhaenys considers Alya one of her few reasons from breaking down into insanity once more. Thus their relationship with each other can be somewhere between very best friends or sisters.

Not that it helped Alya now at Rhaenys' next words.

"I'm serious Alya, you are not allowed to leave Arnor under your father's orders. It is too dangerous for you to leave. Especially at your state," reasoned Rhaenys once they get out of each other's hug. "I disagreed with your father once in the belief that you'll be able to handle yourself, but this handicap of yours is just too much,"

"That's not fair," pouted the Princess of Arnor unhappily. "You can't all blame me for the mishap caused by some mad king in his high horse,"

"I know, however there is another reason," said Rhaenys gesturing for a Dryad to enter holding an empty pail prompting Alya to raise an eyebrow at the confusing entrance.

"What is that fo-," Alya's question however is cut off as the sudden wave of nausea engulfed her making everything spin in front of her eyes. An ugly feeling rose in her gut and before she knows it, she is making belching sounds on the empty pail in front of her much to the amusement of the Dryad holding it.

Rhaenys only smiled softly at her step-daughter and savior heaving her guts out on the pail. "You are pregnant Alya, congratulations,"

..

..

Jerod yawned tiredly as he sat slumped on the crow's nest of the worn down war galley, the three ones that Maidenpool owned for "defense" against anyone on the coast. This guard duty is more of a punishment though than a real job in his opinion. With Maidenpool so deep into Westeros and being so near the borders of the Riverlands and House Tarly, no one would dare attack them here. Pirates and slaves don't go so far inland. This "fleet" is more of a show that Maidenpool is actually doing its sentry job of keeping the unwanted at Westeros out. Jerod would bet his rum that a well-placed spear throw could crack open the hulls of any of these "War Galleys".

He never saw the shadows moving in the distance where the fog awaits at sea. If one would look carefully however, one could see through the silhouette of the fog, swan shapes of ships sailing slowly through it.

Harrenhal is their target and Maidenpool would be their first victim.

..

..

Oberyn cackled with glee as he urged even more his sand steed to keep up with his new friends. Already he is enjoying their presence here so near to the Tower of Sunspear where they have set up residence and worked some of their magic. The normal Westerosi would be skeptical of anything related to magic, but this is Dorne. People are free minded here and there's nothing that can please a Dornishman more than having plants grow in their desert.

So when five kilometers of forest grow up without warning after the arrival of the Centaurs outside Sunspear, let's just say that Dornishmen really love parties. Add the fact that with them comes hundreds of these Wildebeests that looked somewhere between a bull and a horse that now roamed the Sands of Dorne searching for water and migrating non-stop, the Centaurs are practically celebrities in Dorne.

As he rides with some of their hunters in the game to take down one of these Wildebeests though, Oberyn can't help the feeling that someone is out for his life came without warning. Shaking the fancy thoughts away, the Prince of Dorne continues his hunt blissfully unaware of a certain Princess of Arnor cursing him to the high heavens.

*Chapter 19*: Chapter 19

Chapter Nine

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

-Motto of House Black

..

..

Maidenpool

Blood ran over like small streams on the ground at the homestead of Maidenpool. Once it has been a thriving village filled with hundreds of people that the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands can conscript in times of war. However none of that mattered now as the town rose up in flames, the banners of its ruling House burning alongside it. One banner however remain at the middle of the town, standing tall and proud, its silver insignia glinting at the rays of the morning sun. The banner of the silver tree stands tall, bringing with it the first steps of Arnor's vengeance for their princess.

It is the policy of Arnor never to instigate war unless the direst of need. However the unprovoked attack for their liege have brought about a fury inside their hearts that the Arnorians themselves did not know exist. Thus here they are claiming the town as their forward base of Operations under the banners of Lebanin and Pelargir, their High Lords, Galahad and Bors supervising the first steps of the inital assault here in Westeros.

In less than a fortnight, the once defensive town of Maidenpool whose sole reason is to stop a strong invasion from the outer coast is now occupied by the loyal forces of Arnor.

As Bors watched the soldiers drag another member of House Mutton to the chopping block as he screamed and shrilled how someone called "Lord Tully" would not stand for an invasion of Maidenpool. Seriously, what kind of people are these Westerosi naming themselves such...oddball names. He made a mental note to include his thoughts about their names in his letter to Imrahil later. That would give the Lord of Dol Amroth a reason to smile.

"Bors," the voice of his longtime friend, Galahad made him turn as he saw the lord of Pelargir approaching him with some of his men following beside him.

"Galahad," he inclined his head in recognition at the man. "So how's our occupation going so far?"

"As well as it can be in our current circumstance," shrugged the lord of Pelargir sitting on one of the makeshift benches that Bors is also sitting with a tired sigh. "All these planning and logistics is really becoming tedious and fast,"

"Look at the bright side, at least we have the town now and the Rangers are making sure that word of our occupation would not spread at the capital yet," pointed out Bors.

"Imrahil really knows what he's doing huh?" chuckled Galaha as they watched another group of Swan ships dock on the harbor, disgorging men and supplies for the campaign that the Lord of Dol Amroth sponsored.

"He's Sirius' top adviser for a reason," laughed Bors remembering the times before him, Sirius and the other leaders become High Lords of the Island Kingdom. "He may act all pacifist and all that, but he's a warrior deep inside that one. Once a fighter, always a fighter I say,"

"I agree, no politician would be able to execute a plan like this," agreed Galahad looking at the three thousand strong soldiers of Lebanin and Pelargir walking all around them doing their duties. "I still can't believe that we didn't even lose a single man,"

Bors agreed with Galahad on that one. This campaign that Imrahil designed in vengeance for the unprecedented attack on Alya is a masterpiece of planning. Maidenpool of course is not an easy town to crack despite its rather unimpressive name. It has been the capital of the Riverlands once and the ancient defenses that its former owners built are still an obstacle that any frontal attack on its old walls can cause a lot of casualties. Oh of course he knows that a frontal attack is more than enough to batter down Maidenpool's walls, but it would be a costly victory with a lot of unnecessary lives sacrificed. Thus the clever tactics.

Any sane commander on attacking any fortress would choose the weakest part of it to assault. Not so Imrahil. The lord of Dol Amroth does actually the exact opposite of that dogma. Maidenpool's purpose is to deter pirates and sea invasions that is daring enough to use the river as an avenue to attack. Years of peace however have made the lords of Maidenpool very lax on its river defense. And unlike the sides of the town, Maidenpool's harbor guarded by its "war galleys" have no walls and a direct road to the town with little to no opposition.

Thus when the Rangers cleared the sentries of the docks, it comes as a surprise to the residents of the town when out of nowhere from the morning mists came the Swan Ships of Arnor without warning. Even before word can be brought to its ruling lord that an attack is coming, the invasion of Pool is already commencing. Hundreds of Arnorian regulars poured out from the ships cutting down anyone on their path. Man, woman and child, no one was spared. Not that they tried, pockets of Maidenpool's guards tried their best to stop the outpour of the Island Nation's soldiers. It helped them little. The light of Arnor has not dimmed yet from the hearts of the Arnorians and many came here for vengeance, and vengeance they delivered to the last soul in Maidenpool.

"My lords," a soldier bearing the insignia of the Scout Corps saluted to the two lords who sighed unhappily at the unsaid signal that their small break is now over.

"Report messenger," ordered Bors.

"My lords, I bring message from the front my lord. The lead Rangers have finally plotted the course on the forest my lord. The Engineering Corps also reported that they have started the construction of the dirt road. It would be done this evening my lord," said the messenger.

"Good, good, bring our commendations to the commander of the Engineering Corps for their good work Sergeant. Also take a drink before you leave, that's an order," said Bors making the messenger give off a stiffer salute before walking off to the distance.

"Now it begins huh?" asked Galahad looking at the distance Northwest where the mists of the morning are slowly parting to reveal an outline of a humongous castle in the distance where the forests end.

"Yes, now it begins," agreed Bors looking in the same direction along with every eye of the three thousand plus soldiers and still growing in number at the giant outline of Castle Harrenhal at the distance.

..

..

"BLEEARGH!"

"You know, I am really glad that we have this recording stones, I'm gonna play this again and again in the future Alya," chuckled Rhaenys despite the glare that Alya is shooting at her, or more specifically the floating stone at her palm.

Suffice it to say, Alya is not experiencing her best few weeks at the moment. Firstly of course is the shock of her pregnancy, she never expects that her fun trysts with Oberyn Martell would result to this. Now that she thinks about it though, it is not a big surprise with how much they shared their bed with one another. Secondly is the reaction of her father. While Sirius' initial reaction would be to grab the nearest rein of one of their gryphons and fly to Westeros to skin the Dornishman for impregnating her, it took Rhaenys and half the household staff of Minas Tirith to stop the king of Arnor form committing a third degree murder. Of course Sirius being Sirius, his next reaction is being overly happy that he would have a grandson, scaring half the city when their king pops out of nowhere in regular intervals telling everyone that he would have a grandson. And thirdly, is the pregnancy sickness finally getting to her. With her being sick all the time, the lead healers and dryads of the Houses of Healing have used the reason to keep her here grounded on Arnor and not out of the world wandering off. Something that really irritated Alya a lot. She's not some invalid that they can just lock anytime they want.

"I have to admit though Alya that this thing is ingenious," commented Rhaenys as she once more observed the "recording stone" repeating the two minute record of Alya puking her guts out. "How do you even manage to make all of these?" she asked gesturing to the products littering Alya's magical workshop.

With her being bored and stuck here at Minas Tirith, Alya have indulged the Unspeakable in her, and with the help of her father, made this magical workshop where she can create magical things that would be of service to everyone in Arnor. Being the Marauder he is, of course her father never failed to seize the opportunity presented to create new things. Though from the amount of explosions from his experiments, Alya seriously doubted whether her talent came from his mother instead of his father.

"My brain of course, is there anywhere else?" she answered snarkily as she lie down on the inclined chair that Rhaenys made specifically for her. With Alya three weeks in her pregnancy, she could feel a small bump in her stomach already and her feet is starting to get swollen. Of course with all these problems plaguing her, it is no big wonder that the princess of Arnor is becoming even more cranky than her usual relaxed self. Thankfully no one is taking offense to her slightly biting attitude.

"Here budge up," ordered Rhaenys as she rearranged the comfy feather pillows on Alya's head, making her sigh in comfort at the care given to her.

"What would I do without you Rhaenys?" Alya sighed as she closed her eyes feeling fatigue once more creep over her.

"Probably arguing with Sirius to let you fly with your Gryphons despite knowing that you are not healthy enough to run, much less ride one," answered the former Queen of Westeros wiping Alya's face with a cool rag.

"How come you can guess a lot about me so much?" she can't help but ask her foster mother who only laughed as she covered Alya with a white blanket to ward off the cold from the windows.

"Believe it or no Alya, you and my sister Visenya are more alike than you even realize," she chuckled looking out the window. "She's a lot like you Alya, she loves being free and independent. She doesn't let anyone tread down over her head and she's as stubborn as a bull. Just like you,"

"Hey, I'm not stubborn,"

"Yeah right, if you're not stubborn then I am a fly," snorted Rhaenys at her protest. "Now where was I? Yes, she's everything that the warriors told her to be. Strong, intelligent, productive. However unlike you, she abhors the wiles of beauty and cosmetics, believing that a woman should be beautiful on her own natural state,"

"You sound like you're jealous Rhae," commented Alya noticing the wistful tone that the Queen of Arnor is making. While she could read Rhaenys' mind if she wanted to, Alya made it a personal point never to invade people's heads. A man's mind is his personal sanctuary and even as a skilled legilemens, Alya still follows the moral point taught by Percival and Dumbledore with fervor in honor of their memories.

"Maybe I am...a little," admitted Rhaenys with a shrug. "Visenya is everything that I am not Alya. I may be Aegon's favorite bed warmer, but he trusts her more than he ever does to me. She can rule in his stead and she can be everything that he needs her to be, something that I can't. In fact sometimes I worry more that I won't be able to live out my role as queen the right way. Goodness only knows that I failed spectacularly being the Queen of Westeros,"

"You do know that everyone in Arnor loves you right Rhae?" pointed out Alya sleepily as Rhaenys leaned on the inclined chair at her side sharing their warmth. "You're already a good queen Rhae. You make my father happy and you protect me in my weakest, you care for the people, what else can anyone ask? A queen is not judged by her strength, but by her heart. You have a good one Rhae, don't ever forget that,"

Despite almost departing to the realm of Hypnos, Alya could clearly see the soft smile adorning the face of the Queen of Arnor looking at her. "Thank you Alya, sleep well,"

..

..

"What do you mean he's gone?!" Elia shrilled as she turned to glare at her uncle, Lewyn Martell. "Where is he?!"

"Forgive me princess, but last I've heard he is going north," said the Kingsguard making Elia scream in frustration.

It took a lot to rile Elia up, but once riled, she is like most Dornishmen, fiery and having a high temperament. She has good reason after all to be really pissed off. First the letters from Arnor have stopped, not surprising since the Mad King is paranoid and is having every single correspondence that comes in and out of King's Landing screened by the Spider and his "little birds". Anything that even mentions of the Island Kingdom is brought to the king for interrogation. Only one out of ten comes out alive after said interrogation.

Secondly and more important is her stupid brain dead husband. Of course she is not alien to the fact that she and Rhaegar does not have the best of relationships on being husband and wife. No surprises there, after all their marriage is one of political and not that of the heart. While he may be distant to her and their children, she still values her presence. After all with him around, the Mad King is less likely to bother her and the two little souls she is in charge of. Despite all his madness, Aerys Targaryen in his little sanity left on his brain must have realized that alienating his only heir is a very bad career move that can get him assassinated. With Rhaegar gone, the Mad King is now free to do all that he wished to her and her children. Gods she prayed to every deity there is that she would avoid the fateful fate that befalls anyone that attracts the Mad King's interest.

And if all these worries are not enough, the very fact that her husband is going North with half the Kingsguard is really fishy. Of course she's more than aware of the "attraction" that he has for that Northern lass. However that lass is betrothed already to the Lord of the Stormlands who has good relations with the Vale and the North, some of the most hardy kingdoms in Westeros. She fervently prayed that he would not do anything foolish. There are a lot of leeway being the Crown Prince, however that leeway counts for shit when you are faced with the prospect of three angry Lord Paramounts.

Dismissing her uncle Lewyn from her chambers, Elia sits down at the crib of her little boy Aegon, rocking the baby to sleep. She really needs to find more ways on making Cersei's life even more horrible. Goodness only knows how that Banshee is suffering right now.

..

..

Cersei wanted to scream out in frustration as she hurled things at her handmaidens for failing for the fifth time on erasing the green tinge now marring her beautiful blond hair. Apparently some "saboteurs" manage to infiltrate the sewers of Casterly Rock and redesigned the faculties of Cersei's bath resulting to her having her hair colored green in dye.

Apparently Tywin Lannister, the feared Lion of the Rock with all his epic seriousness and projection of fear also have a sense of humor for instead of finding the "saboteurs" of the sewers as Cersei demanded, he instead assigned Tyrion, her imp of a brother to "secure" the sewers against anymore invasion. Of course Cersei is left to deal with the aftereffects of being colored green alone. As she stared once more at the mirror in front of her, she can't help the utter cry of frustration that left her lips. She can't even try to break it for mirrors are expensive, especially the ones made in Dorne. Not that any Dornish ship or merchant have been seen for these past few weeks. As she stared at her green hair once more, Cersei let off her scream of frustration once more.

..

..

Doran sighed for what it seems to be a thousandth time when it comes in regards to his younger brother. Once more he wished that Oberyn would somehow grow up and learn some responsibility. However he knows that it is a futile wish and something tells him that he would experience more white hairs growing on his head when it comes in relation to his younger brother.

Looking at the letter with the insignia of Arnor at his table, Doran fervently wished that his gaze could zap the paper into fire.

Normally letters from Arnor are welcome for Doran. Goodness only knows how much progress Dorne has made ever since they allied themselves on the Island Kingdom. The revenue of the Dornish alone thanks to being the sole proprietor of Arnorian goods in Westerosi market have increased four times already. That is not to mention some of the lords being enamored of Arnorian cold beverages that they can't live without it anymore, including him. He really liked the orange and pineapple punch that his servants at the morning delivered at his breakfast.

Now he is in danger of losing that comfort as he glared once more at the letter from Arnor. His brother once more has caused damage in epic proportions that Doran doesn't know whether he'll gut Oberyn or praise him for impregnating the only heiress of the Island Kingdom. Only one thing he's sure, Arnor and Dorne are now bound together in blood. And Dorne...Dorne always watches over one of their own no matter the odds.

*Chapter 20*: Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"Believe, Achieve, Succeed,"

..

..

"Death to the Arnorians!" the roar of the commanding officer of the garrison of Harrenhal made Bors sweatdrop as he observed their motley crowd of a defending force charge over the empty fields and rice paddies that seem to be the usual landscape here on the Riverlands. While it made traveling a little easier, it doesn't excuse them from the mud and grime on traveling such fields.

It had taken the Engineer Corp a week on trying to create a game trail on the forests leading to the great castle of Harrenhal, and another three days to fully map it out. Now two weeks ever since they occupied the town of Maidenpool, here he is with his friend and brother in all but blood, Galahad leading the ten thousand strong army of Pelargir and Lebanin to occupy the fortress of Harrenhal. It was Imrahil actually who suggested the target for their attack. Killing two birds with one stone, he called it. Harrenhal is the strongest fortress in Westeros barring King's Landing. If the Arnorians succeed on occupying it, not only would it send a message to the rest of Westeros that messing with Arnor is a bad idea, it would also give them a forward base here at Westeros where they can establish a foothold that has access to all Seven Kingdoms being Harrenhal at the center of the continent. Stones for the reconstruction of the great castle of the Riverlands are also plentiful. All that they would need to do is demolish the old one and rebuild a new city using the raw materials that compose the humongous castle. No need to roam around and risk being ambushed by the rest of Westeros' residents.

Of course that would involve taking Harrenhal, which is easier said than done.

Looking at the angry mob currently rushing towards his lines composed by a thousand of Lebenin's Sappers, axe wielders instead of sword ones, Bors has to admit that not all residents of this country of mud and dirt are useless. The commander of the enemy force apparently charging towards his lines in reckless abandon are proof of that.

A normal general would conserve his troops and allow the enemy a siege if he has a castle backing him, and the enemy outnumbering him. However there are two reasons as to why the enemy commander oft to attack instead of defense. First is the fact that Harrenhal is very hard to defend even with a large army backing you, secondly, Bors has deployed his troops only a thousand in number, and any sane general would attack seeing that they far outnumber their enemy. In the eyes of the enemy commander, he must be an overeager invader or too arrogant for attacking with a measly number of a thousand men only.

But there lays the trap. While only Sappers hold the line, the rest of the ten thousand of the fifteen thousand that marched with him here have circumnavigated their attackers on the forests at the side using carefully crafted pathways by the Rangers, heading straight to the now defenseless castle ahead. There's also the little fact that the Sappers are Lebenin's finest in terms of men. Honed by felling the large trees of Lebenin, it is ingrained on them to fight as one unit and they are armed by Arnor's weapons and armor. It may look flimsy at first appearance, but Arnorian armor is many leaps and bounds in strength and durability compared to the mismatch lot of peasants, mercenary, and regulars with their pitchforks and old weapons.

"Hold!" Bors' voice rang out as the two thousand plus numbered mob passed the last few meters of the rise that his unit have pinpointed before. "Spears, throw!"

Five hundred hands immediately went into action hurling javelins straight at the enemy whose charge is slowed by the rise of the land. Still struggling at the sudden change of footing, the first of their lines are immediately decimated as the javelins tore them at point blank range. Arnorian javelins are different compared to spears. It is specifically to break on impact, the point made like a hook to cling to whatever mark they manage to hit. Those lucky to block it would also result to their shields sagging on the ground with half a spear to weigh the arm down. It has also the added effect that it is extremely light that three can be carried by each person. An advantage that Bors is taking full advantage of right now.

"Hold, Spears, throw!" he roared out as the volley of deadly projectiles smashed into the now confused lines of Harrenhal's defenders sending even more of them skidding and falling, mud and blood forcing them to slip and fall on the rise of dirt. Already the signs of uncertainty are spreading on their lines and the first of the conscripted peasants are starting to falter, looking back the way they came from.

A good sign all in all. Only one thing left to do.

"Sappers," his booming voice echoed on the battlefield. "We are the axe-men of Arnor. Time to work for a living boys," he took a deep breath before glaring at the now milling forces of Harrenhal. Raising the heavy battleaxe one handed over his head, Bors shouted the time honored shout of Lebenin.

"CHAAAAARGE!" he roared charging past the lines followed by a thousand angry Arnor axe-men whooping in glee.

As a rule, the people of Lebenin are the biggest of all Arnorians in size and weight. Add that to the brown fur and hide that they usually add to their armor designs; an angry Sapper is a terrifying sight. Unfortunately for the Westerosi here, Bors is the best out of all of them.

"RAARR!" His charge propelled by the slope going down, the large Arnorian Lord hit the confused and milling Westerosi lines with the force of a thunderbolt, sending men flying as the twirling axe over his head literally cleared the way. Behind him at his side the thousand Sappers also charges in ripping large gouges out of the enemy lines, the large axes they wore cutting down shield, hide and bone like sticks. Peasants are already running left and right in fear as the center of the enemy come into heavy assault.

"For Arnor! For Princess Alya! DIE!" Bors laughed as he sent another man flying, his remaining half being left on the ground. "BELIEVE! ACHIEVE! SUCCEED!" his booming voice echoed over the raging battlefield as he buried his axe to the neck of another Westerosi in leather armor.

"BELIEVE! ACHIEVE! SUCCEED! FOR LEBENIN! FOR ARNOR!" the roar echoed from throat to throat as the Arnorians pumped in blood and fueled by vengeance bore themselves down on the enemy army like a ravenous wolf tearing into a juicy steak. Sure the Westerosi forces tried to fight back inflicting some casualties of their own, but they are simply outmatched in weapons and in skill against the more magic fueled warriors of the Island Kingdom. Honed by years of practice, the Arnorians tore into their foes with manic glee that would have made the Mountain that Rides green with jealousy. Add the fact that their shields and armor count for next to nothing against the heavy duty axes, it does not take a genius to know the outcome of this battle.

First it's a trickle, then a fair number, then it finally become a rout. Less than two thousand men immediately started running as the first realization set in that the fight is already lost. Of course those near any of the Sappers got a nasty surprise as they found themselves embedded with axes on the back when they turned to ran in all directions that is not facing a Sapper.

Bors of course have been expecting these. While he would hate mowing down terrified soldiers. The command is clear, no survivors on Harrenhal whatsoever. Arnor needed to be deeply entrenched on its new territory before any word could even reach the Mad King.

"Commander now!" he barked at the Sapper leading ten of his personal guards who only nodded at the confirmation as he raised a blood-soaked horn to his lips blowing out a ringing blast ringing clearly on the din of the battlefield.

The volume first sounded as a trickle, but as it got closer, the stronger it gets to anyone listening. Hundreds of footfalls stamping after one another followed by the whinny of horses. The Westerosi only have a few seconds to wonder whatever it is that is making sound when out of the mists of the morning and the forest in the north rode out in force the reserve cavalry of Arnor hidden until now. With the two forces fly high the white tree and seven stars of Minas Tirith and the banner of the swan ship on a black field of Pelargir. Finally, the last stroke of the trap, the Arnorians spring.

"For Arnor! For Pellargir!" the roar of the charging forces cried out literally shaking the ground with the sound of trumpets as they ride their way to the terrified milling forces of Harrenhal.

Cut off from retreat in three sides and also seeing the black smoke rising from the far castle of Harrenhal, the soldiers realized too late that they are trapped plain and simple with no hope of escape. Despite the orders of their commander, it is plain as day that his conscripts and regulars are not planning to listen to him anytime soon. Already the peasants forcefully recruited to fight are throwing down their weapons alongside some of the soldiers begging for mercy.

Not that it did them any good.

The cavalry of Arnor slammed to the milling army in two sides joined with the charging forces of Bors who takes the initiative to drive their wedge even deeper into the ranks of their enemy. The forces of Harrenhal have no hope as they are literally assailed in three sides. Whatever rank and cohesion that still maintained after the attack are immediately gone as the valor of the army snapped faster than a piece of wood. Terrified, routed and twisted in twenty different ways, coercion on the Harrenhal force lost all sense as the rabble turned to single individuals only hoping to survive, ran in all directions, sacrificing their comrades to the steel plated jaws of the Arnorian army.

"After them! Don't let them get away!" the voice of Galahad called out clear despite the chaos on the battle prompting the nearest Arnorian soldiers at the side of the milling battle to abandon their own lines and chase after the runners who immediately made a dash for it at the realization that their enemy is not planning on letting them run anytime soon.

"For Arnor!" roared Bors for the final time as he smashed open the ribcage of the general buried under a mass of bodies composed by his own men.

"For the princess," he uttered one final time before sagging to his knees on the mud looking around to see the last of the Westerosi being rounded up and executed by their forces. As usual, once the adrenaline of battle disappear, he could feel his heavy limbs weighing him down.

"My, my Bors, tired already? I don't seem to recall you being this tired back then in the day at the fighting pits. Is old age finally getting to you or is it because of the salted pork you really like?" teased Galahad looking down from his palomino horse at him.

"Piss off Galahad," growled the Lord of Lebenin at his old friend as he gets to his feet. Unlike him, the Lord of Pelargir is squeaky clean other than the dirt and blood on his boots and sword. Not surprising since it is his men who torched Harrenhal while Bords kept the enemy busy.

"Is the screen on the forest set up?" he asked dusting off some of the dirtier places of his armor.

"Of course," scoffed the Lord of Pelargir. "The Rangers of Ithilien are serious about their craft Bors. No Westerosi would escape this fief alive. My men have already put to the sword every man, woman and child on Harrenhal and the surrounding villages. No one would ever know that we are here,"

"Good, good," nodded Bors spitting out blood, courtesy of the punch of a brave Westerosi soldier. "For Arnor, for the Princess,"

"For Arnor, for the Princess," repeated Galahad putting his hand on his chest before looking at the now available castle of Harrenhal that is about to be torn piece by piece by the Arnorians.

"For victory!"

..

..

Alya watched in silence at the edge of Pelargir's harbor the dozens of ships that are preparing to leave. To say that she is currently pissed would be the understatement of the century. She just learned of the "vengeance" that the people of Arnor are doing at Westeros for her. Of course her being her, she isn't exactly happy about it. The Arnorians might be powerful and stronger and better equipped compared to the rest of the people on this world, but at the end of the day they are still mortal and can be brought low. One lucky shot, stab and accident is all that is needed to kill a person no matter how well equipped he or she is. And the sad fact of war is…there is always death on both sides.

The reason that they're also doing this for her doesn't sit right for her. No one should die for her. She is their ruler and protector not the other way around, damn it.

That is why she is currently here despite her pregnancy leaving behind Sirius and Rhaenys at Minas Tirith taking only her personal guards with her since Imrahil is at Ithilien. The two are on this and they never told her anything about it. Thus despite their protests, she still left and so here she is watching the last of the ships finish their packing. Of course she'll forgive her father and step-mother in time, but she'll rather let her anger steam for a bit. People, good people are going to die for her and she can do nothing about it. She's not even there to join their struggle.

Expanding her magic and awareness, she looked at the gathered Swan ships below carrying materials and people that would start the third phase of her father's plan. She has to admit that her father got good instincts when it comes to planning despite him being a natural prankster. Arnorians are known to build fast and good, nearly three thousand people are going to Westeros that would rehabilitate Harrenhal to a place that would make any Arnorian proud. The fact that they are also smuggling dozens of the new "Awakening Tree Seedlings" that she has invented in her laboratory doesn't escape her attention.

A storm is gathering at Westeros that cannot be stopped, and the Arnorians are bringing the wrath of the seas with them.

..

..

"WHAT?!" Doran knows that his brother are many things; soldier, warrior, gladiator, lovesick, prince, ruler, drunkard, and womanizer. However never in their long years living together did he realize that his brother, confident Oberyn of Dorne who had bedded a hundred women before even reaching his thirties sound so startled, or in that fact…girly.

"By what, you mean is there any truth for my words? See for yourself," snarked Doran humorlessly as he hands the letter from Arnor to the shaking hands of Oberyn who immediately took it, his black eyes running back and forth, absorbing the words.

"I'm going to have a child," he choked, the letter falling on the table the two of them are privately sharing.

"Children in fact if the medics of Arnor can be believed," corrected Doran tucking in the letter. He is already feeling smug. Not much can frazzle his younger outgoing brother, but this is one of the few times that he does seeing him look so…..unsettled. He is milking it for all its worth.

"I'm going to have children," repeated Oberyn his eyes darting back and forth as if seeing ghosts. "I am going to be a father,"

"Yes, yes, you do realize that if you fuck enough women, some of them will give you gifts right?" Doran pointed out sarcastically. "Judging from the many trysts you and Alya have, I'm surprised it did not happen sooner,"

"I'm going to be a father," repeated the younger prince of Dorne, his face transferring from fear, wonder, surprise and worry in intervals. "I must bring and raise the children here in Dorne when the time comes,"

"NO!" the bark of Doran snapped Oberyn to the real world as he stared at his older brother as if he has grown two heads.

"What? Why? They're my children, they're supposed to be with-," Oberyn never finished his words as Doran with a great effort stood up and pushed his brother flat on the chair with one strong arm despite his gout.

"I said NO!" he repeated. "Under in no circumstances will you force the princess of Arnor to give up her children to you. If they so choose, they can visit our deserts where their father is. But first and foremost they MUST remain in Arnor. For the first time in our history, our bloodline will be heirs to the richest nation of this world that controls half the known seas. We will coincide with whatever the Princess plans for the children. What her decision says will be. Under no circumstances will you fuck this up Oberyn. Understood?"

"But I-?" Oberyn started to protest but Doran shoved him flatter on the chair.

"AM I UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Guh-can't breathe-, yes, I understand," he coughed when Doran let him go staring at him with serious eyes. It is rare for Doran to be in a temper tantrum thanks to his gout, but when he does, it is terrible to behold.

"Be aware brother. Your accident just might bring our House to the highest of glories or its destruction. From here on out, you will do exactly as I say,"