Dragonlord (HP × ASOIAF)

The sky rumbled as thunder and lightning danced in tandem high in the heavens. Gales of wind howled as they blew across the land touching anything and everything in its path. Leaves danced to the tune of nature while creatures of land and sky rushed for cover. The breeze was so strong that the thick trees of the North were wobbling and dancing to the tune of the wind.

Benjen and his company were not so different. There was a storm brewing in the distance. They were also ready to secure themselves in a shelter. Unfortunately, they were far away from any castles to weather out the storm inside the safety of sturdy blocks of stones. They'd have to make do with a tent.

'And what a strange tent it was.' Benjen thought, eyeing the small tent in the clearing.

It was only as large as a horse and yet the tent was holding everyone in their company including the horses.

"Aren't you coming, my lord? The storm will not pass anytime soon." said Doug, a guard accompanying them on their journey.

"Has the clansmen settled in?" asked Benjen.

"Oh, yes. The Black Wolf is teaching them his magic letters." said Doug.

Benjen didn't know what to make of this. He had feared his nephew had ulterior motives in insisting on taking a few women in their group from the Northern Mountains. Benjen didn't say anything because he was in a state of shock after witnessing another feat of magic from his nephew.

The excess produce in the land of the Clansmen was an issue. While the clans would not starve and they had more than enough to trade away, a lot of the yield was destined to spoil. Transporting fruits and vegetables in the bulk along the treacherous passes of the Northern Mountains has always been a difficult endeavour. Just so, a large number of fruits and vegetables were destined to naturally spoil. It was inevitable.

Yet, his magical nephew offered a solution in his usual manner, with magic.

His nephew had the Clansmen make him crate after crate. Then Harrion worked day and night to carve his magical runes into the crates.

When all was said and done, Benjen stood witness to another impossible feat accomplished by his nephew. From what he understood of Harrion's explanation, the crates would preserve anything stored in them for an indefinite amount of time so long as the magic sustaining it is properly applied periodically.

This was a major accomplishment!

These crates along with Harrion's magic runestones should wipe out hunger and food shortages in the North. If Harrion can pass on his craft to others then the North will forever be free from hunger and long winters will no longer take a huge toll on the people. Castles could hold out against sieges indefinitely so long as they stockpile food in these crates. Armies would not lose their supplies as these crates could be safely stored in camps or even in strategic locations.

The social and military implications of what Harrion has done in the Mountains and can do for the North were enormous. Benjen hadn't slept peacefully after they left the mountains of the Clansmen. Mostly cause he was struggling to reconcile with the fact that his nephew was becoming a god in mortal form to the common folk.

If Brandon the Builder was the mythical hero then Harrion was fast becoming a godly figure to those who stood witness to his nephew's magic.

Benjen didn't blame them. Even he struggled to keep his awe deep inside at the feats of his nephew. And right now, there was another feat of magic that was on full display. The magical tent is bigger on the inside while smaller on the outside.

Benjen shook his head at the sheer impossibility of all of this and yet it was real. His nephew was brazen in what he showed with his magic. The more Harrion reveals the greater a target the boy will be for enemies of House Stark. There were definitely some dark days ahead for his nephew. He doesn't know when or how but Harrion would have to face a lot of troubles for his abilities. Just thinking about all of this gave him a headache.

Being the Dendrophile he is, Benjen took one last look at the trees dancing in the wind before choosing to retire to the tent while Doug stayed outside to keep watch at the entrance.

The moment Benjen stepped into the tent he could feel his nephew's magic in the work. A moment ago, he was cold and wet. Now, inside the tent, he was warm and dry.

"Amazing!" Benjen muttered as he felt the startling change.

This was far better than Winterfell and that was usually hard to beat as he had travelled to many castles and none could beat Winterfell in comfort. And now, a small tent raised by his six namesdays old nephew managed to change that perception.

The tent was spacious, Benjen noted.

Far more spacious than it was supposed to be. He could not see his nephew or the company of men. He was in a long passage with a grey curtain on either side. He walked forward despite his urge to call out for a response from the others. The tent felt like one of those pranks Lyanna would dish out on him while playing knight and thief. Lyanna would usually play the part of a thief leaving him to find his sister. Lyanna's usual hiding place was the Crypts and the place had always given him creeps. It was long and he could hardly see the end of the Crypts which left him prone to fall prey to fear.

This narrow passageway in the tent made Benjen remember the good old days. If Lyanna was here with him he was sure she'd have loved Harrion. His sister would have made Harrion do things that'd drive the whole Westeros mad.

'Then again, she already made whole Westeros mad before she breathed her last.' Benjen thought, with some regret and anger directed at his sister.

Shaking those thoughts away from his head Benjen tried to focus his mind on the present. He moved steadily forward until he came across a small opening to his right. Benjen looked inside only to find horses and a few mountain bulls grazing happily in the comfort of the tent. The horses and bulls were separated by a ten-foot-high stone wall. Probably, to prevent the bulls from skewering the horses.

He had no idea why the clansmen or the clanswomen in this case were obsessed with these bulls. They considered it a mark of great honour and courage to ride one of these wild bulls. The clanswomen were extremely militaristic. They had to as the mountains were ripe with wild boars and other dangerous animals. Men and women learned their way around a weapon in the mountains to protect themselves. There were no castles or stone walls to shield themselves from wild animals. The proximity to the forests also made their farmlands vulnerable to raids from wild animals.

So, it mattered little to the Clans whether you are a man or a woman. If you live in the mountains, you better learn your way with any weapons. One day, your life might depend on it.

That's how they lead their daily life.

So, it came as no surprise that they are willing to learn something new to better prepare their lands. Benjen supposed learning to use his nephew's runes should at least deal with food scarcity in the mountains.

However, that doesn't mean he approved these women tagging along to where they were going. It was certainly going to create a lot of tension once they reach their destination. The only good news is that Benjen could call upon the skills of some of the best trackers and hunters loaned out by the Mountain Clans. This should make their work on Skagos much easier.

He moved forward along the passage until he found another opening in the curtain. This time it was a room where all the men were staying. Most of them were resting from the arduous journey from the mountains. He didn't want to be a bother to the men but he paused as someone made a comment.

"You know they are calling the kid the First Blood. Those wood witches claim the little lord has the blood of the gods in him just like the First King."

Benjen was confused. 'What are wood witches? And what do they want with Harrion?'

"Yeah, I heard that as well. She claims the Black Wolf will make heaven wherever he rules."

"Seeing what we all saw I think the word witch is not far off. I have never seen this much crop yield in my lifetime. Even the glass gardens of Winterfell do not yield this many crops. It's too bad that the Black Wolf was born young. He'd have made the North great."

'This is dangerous talk.' Benjen thought.

He was tempted to intervene but he held himself back. There was no point in intervening now. He was not going to change the men's opinion and most likely make the situation worse. It'd be better for Ned to handle this quietly.

It was quite natural for men to flock to those with power. And Harrion was teeming with power. Naturally, men would look up to the boy.

Benjen quietly withdrew from the room and sought out Harrion and Jon. He finally found them in the company of the clanswomen.

He was not at all surprised to find Harrion carving his runes on a wooden plank. He assumed his nephew was making more crates. It'd certainly be useful once they finalized their journey and return to Winterfell. The North as he knew it would change for the better. Benjen was sure of that.

"Harrion. Jon." He called and Jon was quick to run towards him.

The boy has always been shy around women. Sometimes, he noticed there was fear in Jon's eyes. He suspected it had to do with Lady Catelyn.

"Why are you two not resting? Once the storm passes we have a long march ahead of us. We need to make it to Castle Black before the sun retreats from the sky." Benjen admonished, knocking Jon's head playfully.

"Is the Wall as tall as they say uncle?" asked Jon, with childlike curiosity shining in his eyes.

Benjen was once again struck by memories of the past. Those eyes reminded him of a sister he lost.

Patting Jon on his head Benjen smiled.

"Yes, Jon. The Wall stands 700ft high made of pure ice stretching across the North from the Bay of Ice to the Bay of Seals. A total of 100 leagues the Wall lies, protecting the North for thousands of years with sworn brothers of the Night's Watch manning their posts."

"I don't know why we are even going to Castle Black. We could have just travelled straight to Eastwatch and sail a ship to the Skane island." Harrion commented, setting aside the plank he was working on.

"It's not easy as you make it out nephew. The Black Brothers manning the Eastwatch take orders from the Lord Commander. Without Lord Commander Mormont's blessings, we won't be allowed to take a ship from the Eastwatch. Castle Black sends patrols every third day of the week to Eastwatch. If we make good time on the road we can accompany the patrol group and smoothly reach Eastwatch with the Lord Commander's blessings." said Benjen.

"Well… What if the Lord Commander refuses to help us sail to Skagos?" asked Harrion making Benjen frown.

"Why would the Lord Commander Mormont refuse?" Benjen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I may have caused some problems for the Night's Watch." said Harrion before launching into an explanation of the list of demands Harrion left in the hands of Robb.

Benjen barely suppressed the urge to palm his face. Nonetheless, he did not hesitate to catch his nephew by the ear.

"It's no wonder why Lady Catelyn described you as a serial troublemaker."

"Ow! My ear. Leave my ear alone." Harrion cried out struggling to escape Benjen's hold.

"I don't think I'll be doing that. Do you know the trouble you must have caused for your father? What you need is some discipline beaten into you kid and I know just the right way." said Benjen, letting go of his nephew's ear.

"Take your wooden sword and come. You too Jon. I think it's time for some practice."

XXXXXXX

"Corn..corn…corn!"

"Here you go you greedy rascal." Jeor snapped, as he offered a bowl of corn to his trusted companion.

Giving Jeor an unimpressed stare the raven gorged itself on the bowl of corn happily.

"What shall you do Lord Commander?" asked Maester Aemon.

Jeor eyed the old Maester and a hint of pity shone in his eyes. The Maester was old, far too old. It was a terrible thing for the old to bury the young. It should be the other way around. Yet, Maester Aemon didn't even get the chance to bury his family.

A terrible turn of events for a former Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

If the Gods were not cruel the man sitting before him should have ruled the Seven Kingdoms and most likely Westeros would not have bled as it did. Of course, the Gods would never give power to those who deserve it.

Despite all the injustice visited upon the man, Maester Aemon remained devoted to his duty. Age may have played a factor but any lesser man would have jumped off the edge of the Wall. Blind and physically impaired, the Maester still remains a brother and Maester of the Night's Watch. The man is the oldest soul at the Wall. Many winters and summers have passed by but Maester Aemon remains diligent in his duty.

'Blood of the dragon indeed. A credit to the waning Targaryen bloodline.' Jeor thought.

"It is the King's decision and the Starks have always been a friend to the Night's Watch. It'll be unpopular among many brothers but we have no choice but to obey." said Jeor, looking at the piece of parchment explaining the recent decision made by the King overturning the ownership of the Gift to House Stark.

Truth be told he was rather relieved to learn the Starks were taking back the Gift. The Night's Watch was stretched thin by manning the many castles along the Wall. It was no secret in the North that the Night's Watch declined under Jaehaerys Targaryen's reign. Before the Conciliator came to the Iron Throne, the Night's Watch had enough men to man seventeen of the eighteen castles along the Wall.

Now, they had barely enough men to man three.

There was too much ground to patrol and he lacked the men to keep the Wildlings out. If it wasn't for the Mountain Clans and Umbers, the North would have been overrun by Wildlings.

"I suppose Lord Stark will be assigning new lords to the castles along the Gift. It'd certainly give a level of safety for the Smallfolk." Said Maester Aemon, approval clear in his words and tone.

"Many Black Brothers will be disappointed, I'm sure. The illusion of power they enjoyed over the scattered smallfolk settlements will go away with Northern lords flocking to the Gift. Many would have me protest strenuously against any change of ownership of the Gift." said Jeor, rubbing his pet raven on its head.

"The Night's Watch may not partake in the matters of the Seven Kingdoms. But, the Seven Kingdoms certainly do partake in the matters of the Night's Watch. The Watch is in decline. Perhaps, you should present the change as less work for the Night's Watch." Maester Aemon suggested.

"Something along those lines should be done. Easter away, I shall travel to Winterfell and speak with Lord Stark. It'll be better to say our piece before the Lord of Winterfell decides on the fate of the castles. It'll also be a good time to see who'll be our new neighbours."

"Astute as always Lord Commander."

The doors to Jeor's solar opened to show Mance Rayder by the doorway.

"Sorry for disturbing you Lord Commander, Maester. But, there is a party in the distance from the south. They carry Direwolf banners."

"The Starks?" Jeor whispered to himself.

Looking outside the window he could see the banners in the distance.

"Must be Benjen Stark with an escort from Winterfell." said Maester Aemon.

Jeor grunted but did not say anything else. He'd know soon enough.