Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Eddard Stark looked at his daughter across the table in the Tower of the Hand. "You should go back to Winterfell while you still can. I'll ask Ser Barristan to escort you. King's Landing is about to get dangerous."

Robert had sent most of the Kingsguard north with the new Wall Guard. It looked like weakness on the surface, but Eddard knew better. His old friend was clearing the board for a real fight against whoever was moving in the shadows.

Sansa's eyes lit up. "Can I go north and fight with the army, Father?"

"No," Jon Snow said before Eddard could answer. "It's too cold up there, Sansa. Colder than anything you've ever felt. You're a Stark, but that doesn't mean you can survive the true North. The Wall and what's beyond it… it's not a place for you."

Sansa's face flushed. She took it as an insult. "I am a Stark. I come from the blood of the old Winter Kings. If the realm needs swords at the Wall, why shouldn't I go? Or are you saying I'm weaker than you, Jon?"

She stood up and drew the practice sword at her hip. "Let's settle it right now. You and me. Let's see whose blade is better."

Jon looked at Eddard with helpless frustration. Three Silly. The nickname fit a little too well sometimes.

"Enough," Eddard said sharply. "You're not Jon's match, Sansa. He's been trained by the Night's Watch. You've learned a few flashy moves from a Braavosi. That's not the same thing."

Sansa made a furious sound, tossed her hair, and stormed out of the room.

Eddard sighed and was about to tell Jon to sit when a guard knocked.

"Ser Asor Dayne is here to see you, my lord."

Eddard's expression tightened. This wasn't a social call.

"Send him in."

Jon stayed standing. "Father… who is Ser Asor Dayne?"

"He's the nephew of Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. His mother was Lady Ashara Dayne."

Jon went very still. The old rumor whispered in his head again — that he was the son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne. If that were true, then this man staring back at him might be his half-brother.

Asor Dayne stepped into the room. Jon couldn't stop himself from studying the man's face. Gray-brown hair. Violet eyes. The classic Dayne look. Jon's own eyes were Stark gray, but their hair color was close enough to make the thought linger.

Asor noticed the intense stare and frowned. "My lord… who is this?"

Eddard's voice was low and heavy. "This is my bastard son. Jon Snow."

Something unreadable moved behind Asor's violet eyes. Eddard's own gaze stayed carefully blank, but Jon saw the old pain there, buried deep.

The rain started while Tony Stark, Willas Tyrell, and Brand Hightower sat in a small tavern near the harbor. A couple of girls sang softly in the corner while the three men drank and talked about the coming campaign.

Brand — still called the Knight of a Hundred Birds even though he used to go by White Bird — raised his cup. "House Hightower will answer the call. I'll ride north myself with Garlan."

Willas smiled. "Father won't go, but with you and Garlan there, Highgarden won't look weak. Especially when every other house is sending strong names."

Brand glanced at Willas's legs. "If your injury hadn't just healed, you'd be going too. You always did love testing yourself against the best fighters in the world. Oberyn almost ended that dream for good."

Willas laughed and raised his cup toward Tony. "And Tony fixed what poison tried to ruin. To the man who gave me my legs back."

Tony clinked cups with him. "Don't mention it. Out in this world you survive on favors and good will more than steel. Learned that in my last life."

Brand raised an eyebrow. "Last life?"

Tony just grinned. "What goes around comes around. I did a good thing today. Maybe the gods will remember it later."

Rain began tapping against the shutters. Outside, the streets of King's Landing turned soft and gray under a steady drizzle. People hurried with hats and cloaks. Kids still played in the puddles, laughing. Gold Cloaks shouted at wagon drivers to keep moving. The whole city smelled cleaner for a little while.

Willas watched the rain for a moment, then said, "If I go north with Garlan, Asor Dayne will probably ride with Oberyn. House Dayne has always been loyal to Dorne."

Brand nodded. "My grandfather fought beside Arthur Dayne in the Kingsguard. I knew the family."

Willas took another drink. "Asor's good, but he's no Arthur. Not yet."

Tony leaned back in his chair and smiled at the rain. "Give him twenty years. He'll be a legend too. Some men just need time to grow into the name they were born with."