ASOIAF/GOT: Minecraft in Essos.

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~~~Third Person, Eighth Moon, 277 AC~~~

~~~Hunting Camp, Crakehall~~~

Rickard Stark entered the tent where his son Brandon was being tended to, the maester was still applying wet cloths to his forehead in an attempt to lower his high body temperature, and several women were entering and leaving the tent carrying buckets of water or clean towels.

"Out everyone," Rickard ordered as he arrived at Brandon's bedside, taking by surprise the maester who raised his head and looked at Rickard in confusion, "My lord, young Brandon is still in serious condition, I must..."

"I said get out!" Rickard exploded in anger, startling the master and a silent Ned. You too," he ended up telling the women as well.

The maester hardened his face, grabbed his implements, and exited the tent followed by the women assisting him, but not before glaring spitefully and disgustedly at the potion Rickard had taken out of his chest.

"Come on, it works, it works," Rickard said over and over under his breath as he removed the cork from the potion and approached Brandon, lifted his head with Ned's help, and made the potion enter Brandon's mouth.

"What is to be done now?" Rickard asked, but his vision answered his question. In front of Rickard and Ned, an event that could only be described as magical began to happen.

Brandon's arm, which despite the maester's intervention, was still dripping blood, stopped bleeding unexpectedly, as small sounds were produced in his chest and arm.

The sound of a bone breaking could be heard, but it was not that they were breaking, but that the bones in Brandon's arm were moving and sticking back together, the fragments of broken bones inside the flesh broke the skin and began to come out and fall to the fur-covered dirt floor.

Brandon's chest, which had previously been sunken in and made it difficult for him to breathe, took its natural size and the broken ribs took their proper place as the punctured lung healed in a matter of seconds.

In just ten seconds, Brandon's body was perfect, the skin healthy and without a single blemish or scar to give away his former state of health, and even his hair and nails grew several centimeters, it was as if he had been born again.

"WOW!" Brandon woke up hyperventilating, holding his chest and startling his father and brother, who were looking at him with happy and tired faces, "Brandon!" Ned was the first to react, and without caring about decorum, he climbed onto the bed and hugged his older brother as tears of happiness welled up in his eyes.

"Are you okay, are you in any pain?" Rickard, while also happy for his son's awakening, was wary of his son's condition, "Yes father, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Brandon replied with a chuckle.

*Sigh* "That's a story you could tell your brothers when we get back," Rickard replied, running his hand over his face, as a yawn came out of his mouth, now that Brandon was well, his stress and tiredness came out, as the worry was gone.

"We will return in two days to Winterfell, son, we have been too long in the south, our home awaits us," Rickard told Brandon, confusing him, since the wedding had not yet been finalized, "but father, the wedding has not happened, and I am still getting to know Cersei."

Rickard frowned, standing up straight and preparing to leave the tent; "Just obey, we must go, I have a business to do, debts to pay, and goals to achieve."

"Debts? I don't understand," Brandon asked, to which Rickard just sighed, 'your brother can answer everything for you,' he said, walking out of the tent, destination unknown. "Well?" Brandon faced Ned, "what happened?"

"Father sold Moat Cailin," was Ned's short, blunt answer, for someone who wasn't used to many conversations, he knew how to deliver the news without any spin.

"Father did what?" Brandon asked in alarm, "But why did he do such a crazy thing, and who did he sell it to?" He couldn't quite grasp the news. Something like that had never been seen in the history of the North, and just imagining it seemed ridiculous to him.

"For the same reason why you are now completely healed," Ned told him with exasperation, "Father traded a Xandarian potion along with enough gold in exchange for Moat Cailin, all to save you."

"That means."

"Yes," Ned finished for him, "now the Xandarians own Moat Cailin, there's nothing left to do, and you know the North remembers, besides. You now have a Xandarian Steel sword, you were the winner of the second hunt, Father was happy and proud of you, and you were the envy of many."

"Hahaha, see, I told you I would win, I always keep my promises, little brother, as for Moat Cailin, don't worry, I will work tirelessly to return his control to where it belongs," Brando said with a chuckle, earning a skeptical look from Ned. Then he finished with a chuckle.

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While Rickard was happy for the well-being of his son, and laughter and tranquility returned to his life, on the other side of the camp it was a different topic; "Do we need gold to buy a damned ruined castle Azrael?" Valka asked with an angry and somewhat cold tone, "As if you had to almost murder an innocent child product of the machinations of adults".

Valka and Azrael were in their carriage, having for the first time a discussion resulting from a contrast between the decisions of the two. "It's not about the gold, if it were up to me, I would have given him the weight of every damn block in that fortress in gold if it had ensured my control over him," Azrael shouted back, almost shouting.

With a cold, emotionless face, Valka snorted; "so what was it, what drove my fiancé to commit such a high act of cruelty as to nearly murder an innocent child?" Azrael swallowed the entire contents of his wine goblet, seeking solace from the bad mood.

"Lord Rickard was not going to give up Moat Cailin for gold alone, he is too stubborn a man to be lured with the promise of riches, much more knowing that Moat Cailin is a vital pass for the North, I had to corner him, make him unstable, make him take any quick and safe way out at the cost of a major benefit to him," Azrael explained, clenching his fist and looking at Valka with a tired look.

"And I had it all planned, should it be the case that Rickard wouldn't take the deal, I would still provide the boy with help." Valka continued in silence, not saying anything or producing a single sound, just looking at the stars that were visible thanks to a glass plate placed on the roof, which allowed the moonlight to enter the interior of the carriage.

"It wasn't my intention to make you feel bad or upset about this whole thing, I thought you would understand, I was going to explain everything once Lord Rickard left, but you went ahead and well, now we are here having this conversation."

"I have supported you in everything, in the taking of Meereen, of Astapor, and Yunkai, I have ridden with you at all times, and will continue to do so, but that does not mean I will accept things like this, and I know we are not perfect, nor saints, I already forgot how many people or beings I have killed, both in this life and in the previous one, but many of us come from a life full of war and constant struggle, and being here now, although it is a blessing in every way, does not make moments like these not to remember everything we have left behind". Valka said quietly, the timbre of her voice almost cracking on the last part.

"I'm just asking you to talk to me about everything from now on, don't hold anything back, share it with me," Valka moved closer to Azrael and planted a soft kiss on his lips, "we are a team, remember, and I will be there for you always."

"I know Valka, I know," Azrael told her smiling, kissing uncontrollably, or at least until his carriage door was knocked.

"My Khal, I am Mottaekho, I bring a missive," against his own will, Azrael rose from his chair and walked over to the carriage door, where he greeted Mottaekho with a grimace on his face, "Excuse me, blood of my blood, but the ex-eunuch said it was important." He explained, extending his arm and handing a letter to Azrael, who took it forcefully and closed the door again without even warning.