Game of Dragonborn.

[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]

Third Person POV.

Somewhere on North.

...

...

Winterfell had been quite busy in the last moons, ever since the king had arrived, the Starks had welcomed the entire royal family with open arms. They had also gathered many southern nobles, as they came to try and join the king's entourage, as his stay had been quite long.

A girl was running through the castle that early afternoon, with a small she-wolf chasing after her. She passed by Winterfell men of her own house, soldiers from other northern houses, and southern houses, mostly Lannisters and Baratheons. Lastly, there were knights from all the realms, who had come to Winterfell hoping to stand out before the king, though there was no tournament here.

Arya Stark, the youngest daughter of the house, kept running through the courtyard until there were fewer people around her, as she slipped into the more hidden corners of Winterfell.

"Bran!! You're climbing the tower again!!" Arya stopped walking and looked up, seeing the boy hanging there, her younger brother.

"And you should be with Septa Mordane!" Bran retorted from above.

"That's true..." Arya grinned mischievously. "Come on, get down from there, and let's play! Things have been kind of boring lately," she complained as Bran began climbing down at his sister's shout.

"You left Summer alone again," she accused, seeing the wolf pup, now growing larger, waiting on the ground for his owner to descend from his climb.

"He always waits for me," Bran grumbled and looked over at the other wolf, Nymeria, standing by Arya's side.

"Anyway, let's go to the godswood," she said as he nodded, and they slipped away before anyone could catch them and scold or punish them.

"I can't stand being around the queen, her daughter, Sansa, and the others. The talk is so boring!" Arya muttered.

"Yes, but there's a feast tonight..." Bran commented.

"Yes, like three times a week. The king always asks for a party, and father is forced to host it, though he doesn't seem to like it much," Arya said with a smile.

"Did you hear about the king yesterday? He was asking about him," Bran said with a curious look.

"Yes... I still can't believe we had a brother... I barely remember him... I had just turned two when he disappeared from Winterfell, and you weren't even born yet," Arya murmured as they walked through the godswood, nearing the small lake by the heart tree.

"Father never liked him. Mother says he was bad and would have destroyed our house... I still don't understand..." Bran muttered.

"She says it's because he was a bastard, that he would be bad, but I don't really believe that. However, father really doesn't like talking about him," Arya murmured.

"That's why we have to ask the king!" Bran said, sharing his idea.

"He might not know him... but I think you're right. After all, if he asks father to talk about him, no one can deny a king's request!" Arya understood Bran's plan.

They had grown up knowing they had a half-brother as old as Robb, and that he disappeared over eight years ago. Lord Stark considered him dead, despite searching for him at first, but soon gave up after a year with no sightings or news of him anywhere. They hadn't even made a tomb for him.

Robb had mentioned a few things about him, but they were vague. The only person who could really talk about him was their father. Their mother hated their brother for some reason, which they believed was because he was a bastard and that bastards were evil by nature. She always told them to avoid the subject, forbidding it strictly, but Bran and Arya were always curious.

The king had asked about Ned's bastard at the last feast. Despite Lord Stark being a bit nervous, he managed to avoid the subject, and the king soon forgot, distracted by a pretty servant from Winterfell.

"Let's see if we can ask about this brother that Uncle Benjen is the only one who talks about," Bran murmured. After all, Benjen was the only one who didn't mind speaking about Jon Snow.

"Did I hear my name?!" A voice suddenly called out, making the children look to the side, where their Uncle Benjen stood, smiling at them as his cloak swayed with his approach. Benjen always wore black.

"Uncle Benjen!!" Both of them exclaimed happily.

"You're hiding here, aren't you?" he said as he came up to them.

"Yes... but don't tell father!" Arya, who had just turned 10 namedays, exclaimed.

"Alright... I'll let you off today... since I'm leaving soon," he said.

"But already?!" Bran muttered with a sad tone.

"I've been here for more than a moon... I can't leave my duties behind. Besides... the king will be leaving in the next few weeks... your father has accepted to be his Hand in King's Landing," he said, gently tousling both his nephews' hair.

"He accepted!? So we're going to King's Landing?" Arya exclaimed, finding the idea exciting, eager to finally travel with her father from Winterfell and head to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms as if on an adventure.

"Yes... but that's something you'll have to ask him about," Benjen said.

"Uncle Benjen, I want to be a knight of the Kingsguard! I'll work hard to become one!" Bran declared.

"That's good, I'm sure you'll be one of the fiercest," Benjen said.

"Can you tell us more stories about the wildlings? Father's not here to stop you!" Arya said, knowing Benjen was always asked to tell stories about his battles as the First Ranger, but Ned had always been quite strict, saying those stories weren't for children.

"Of course, since I'm leaving soon, we can make an exception," he said, sitting down beside his nephews to start telling them about some of his adventures.

And so, Benjen continued telling them tales of his battles in the godswood, while back at the castle, Lord Stark was in his solar, speaking with some northern lords.

"So, you've accepted to be the Hand of the King? I'm surprised," Wylis Manderly remarked, as his large frame barely fit into the chair in front of Ned, while they discussed matters concerning White Harbor.

"Yes... I'll be leaving in two weeks," Ned replied, and Wylis nodded.

"It seems your son will be in command of Winterfell then. It's about time he took charge. One of my daughters could be the future Lady of Winterfell if you'd allow a union between our houses," he said, hinting that he hoped Ned would accept a possible betrothal between the Manderlys and the Starks.

"I'm not sure, my lord. You'll have to forgive me, after all, Robb is still very young. But we can discuss this in the coming years," Ned responded diplomatically, not rejecting the idea but not agreeing either, knowing how important it was for Robb to have a northern wife, which would unite the North behind him.

"That's a fair response, Lord Stark," Lord Manderly nodded.

"And are you planning to leave today, Lord Manderly?" Ned continued, "I would like you to stay for tonight's feast," he said, hoping his vassal would also enjoy the gathering.

Though thinking about the feasts often brought a sigh to his lips, as resources had been steadily depleting over the past few weeks to please the king. His wife had encouraged this at first, as it promoted the marriage between Sansa and the crown prince, with their engagement sealed in the early weeks of the visit.

But now, the resources were running thin, and it would be quite detrimental for House Stark to have their coffers nearly empty, with months of northern tax revenue vanishing.

"Very well, Lord Stark, I'll stay for tonight's feast," Lord Manderly agreed as he began to rise, preparing to take his leave and allow the Lord of Winterfell to be alone once more.

Ned Stark remained alone in his solar, the silence allowing him to think over many things, one of which was how his life was heading in a direction he had never imagined, as he was about to become the Hand of the King and serve in King's Landing.

Initially, he had refused, but he needed to uncover some suspicious circumstances surrounding Jon Arryn's death. According to Catelyn's trusted informant, Jon Arryn had been poisoned, which worried him. Why would someone do such a thing? As the adopted son of the former Lord of the Vale, he wanted to bring justice.

Ned thought about the past for a moment, recalling his youth in the Vale with Robb, the war after hearing the news of his sister's abduction, his elder brother and father killed, and other things that followed. But soon, he pushed those thoughts aside. After all, there was nothing to be done about what had already happened.

Catelyn was with Sansa, their eldest daughter, working on her stitching with her direwolf, whom she named Lady, lying at her feet. This displeased Catelyn, but the queen was beside her now, along with Princess Myrcella. Sansa spoke in a dreamy tone to the queen, asking about her duties and other subjects, as she would one day assume that role.

Meanwhile, outside that room, Robb was training alongside the Kingsguard under the watchful eyes of Ser Rodrik Cassel, while the king applauded, seated in a special chair set for him in the courtyard. The king drank constantly, surrounded by a few prostitutes, a sight that didn't please everyone, though he didn't care. Barristan Selmy stood beside the king, always ready to act should his king be in danger.

"Come on, Robb! Are you going to lose that easily?" Theon Greyjoy taunted from the side, laughing at his friend, who was struggling against the Kingsguard member the king had requested to train with them.

Prince Joffrey watched from a distance but never participated in the fights, only casting mocking glances. Both Robb and Theon noticed this, but they couldn't say anything.

"Come on, Ned's boy! You can do better than that!" King Robert shouted, expecting the boy to fight as well as his father, a warrior who had faced and defeated the Sword of the Morning in a duel, albeit with only one witness.

And so, they continued their training, while elsewhere in the castle, a small boy ran with his wolf.

"Come here, Shaggydog," he murmured, as he followed the giant wolf to the stable, where they found another wolf, the sixth pup of the litter, a white wolf with red eyes that stayed alone most of the time and couldn't even make a sound, due to some issue.

The wolf had no owner, and their father had wanted to sacrifice it initially, but they decided to let it live in the stable, perhaps becoming a good guardian. The youngest Stark, Rickon, had grown fond of the pup, spending time with him and his own wolf, as Shaggydog always seemed intent on coming here to keep his brother company.

"You left the castle alone again?" Septa Mordane appeared at that moment in the stable's doorway, casting a disdainful look at both Rickon's wolf and the white wolf. "Come along, your mother will be furious if she finds out you've been sneaking out again," she said sternly, while Rickon could do nothing but be led away, leaving the white wolf behind as his own wolf followed him inside.

At Winterfell's entrance, two figures approached the gates, or rather, one and a half.

"Everything's ready for tonight's feast. I can't wait to get drunk and perhaps visit a brothel after the party..." The famous dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, said after a pause. He chuckled, while his brother Jaime looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault there are banquets all the time, and I've grown to enjoy them," Tyrion continued with an ironic tone.

"You enjoy all the banquets," Jaime murmured mockingly.

Tyrion merely smiled at his older brother. "And who could deny a banquet?" he said, drawing a smile from Jaime this time, as they walked off together.

"I can't say the same about the Starks, though. I don't like that family," he added at the end as they entered the castle.

Far from there, out of sight from everyone, a white mass descended over the Wolfswood. Jon and the dragon, after an entire day of travel, finally arrived in the middle of the afternoon. He landed in a hidden spot, waiting for his dragon to remain there while he prepared to finally visit his old home.

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