Song of A Northern Sorcerer

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Listening to the soft crunching of the spring snow beneath her leather boots, Nyra of Winterfell, lover to the Northern Sorcerer Alim Nox and his unofficial Hand in all matters, walked from the Sorcerer's Tower, formerly the Broken Tower, of Winterfell towards the Great Keep. She'd been summoned to appear in Lord Stark's solar just a short time ago, and she knew the exact reason why the Warden of the North had called for her. And she was not about to come before the Lord Stark with her head down. No. She was of the North. Not some cowed southern cow that didn't have a brain between her ears.

She respected Lord Stark, she truly did. But some of his choices since his ascension to Lordship were not the wisest, not that she would ever voice her opinion. The building of the Sept in Winterfell had rankled her more than slightly. She was of the North, a follower, if only slightly devout, of the Old Gods. And the Sept represented the New Gods, the Seven who are one, the god of the Andals. The same people that had been trying to thousands of years to conquer the North and destroy the faith of the old gods. But despite her misgivings, she kept her opinion to herself. Afterall, at the time she was but a low serving girl with no family.

Then when his daughters came about, he appointed a Septa as their sole teacher. A Septa. Teaching the daughters of the Warden of the North. And she knew from the whispers around Winterfell, whenever the thought of bringing in another Northern Lady to teach the girls was brought up, the Lady Stark immediately shot the idea down. Sure, Maester Luwin taught the girls their numbers and a few other odd lessons here and there. But the Maester was just one man, and his duties vast. So, he did not have the time to give the girls a proper education. And it was because of that that she was being summoned to the Lord's solar before the evening meal.

Approaching the solar, Nyra noted the two guards standing like statues outside the door. Nodding to the two men, she raised her hand to knock and – "Come in Nyra."

Keeping her head high, Nyra pulled on the latch and entered the warm solar. Within the room she saw Lord Stark sitting behind his desk, his Lord's face in place as he sat completely passive and without emotion. To his right sat his wife, the Lady Stark, who was looking at Nyra as if her very presence was insulting. And to the right of Lady Stark stood the reason why Nyra had been summoned. Septa Mordane stood a pace behind and just off to the side of Lady Stark, a large bruise forming around her eye and a split cutting her lip in two. Courtesy of Nyra, and something she was quite proud of.

"Lady Nyra," the very title still felt odd, but she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride running through her as she heard Lord Stark address her so. "I believe that I do not need to say why I have asked you here today."

"Aye my Lord." Nyra nodded, casting a brief look towards the Septa, who was glaring at her. "And while I will apologize for losing my temper, I will not apologize for my actions. I merely responded in a way any true Northern Lady should when dealt an insult to her honor. But I'm sure the Septa has spun a fascinating tale on my heathenistic and deprived ways and my horrible influence on your daughters. And I'm sure most is complete and utter horse shit with only a sprinkling of truth."

"How dare you accuse me of lying, whore!" The Septa cursed, taking a step forward only to stop as Lord Stark raised his hand.

"I told you that I will handle this incident, but only once I have heard both sides, Septa. And you have said your piece. Now you will be quiet." Lord Stark demanded. His voice was as cold as the North itself.

"Of course, Lord Stark," the Septa immediately responded, cowed as she backed away behind Lady Stark, whose eyes were flickering back and forth between the Septa and Nyra. She'd noted the slight twitching of the eye when Nyra had made her comment about a 'true northern lady'.

"Good," Stark nodded, turning his attention to Nyra. "Lady Nyra, if you would please tell us of why you felt it necessary to blacken the eye and split the lip of Septa Mordane."

"Yes, my lord. But I fear that to tell it properly, I will need to provide a bit of clarification to what forced the confrontation between myself and the Septa." She waited until Lord Stark nodded before continuing. "Shortly after Lord Nox left on the expedition, Lady Arya approached me and asked if I could provide instruction for her in absence of Lord Nox. Unfortunately, I cannot as I have not been blessed by the old gods with the ability to utilize the Force like Lord Nox and your children, my Lord."

She couldn't help but notice the huff coming from Septa Mordane, nor the narrowing of the eyes of Lady Stark. And she knew for certain that Lord Stark noticed both as well. "After denying her, she asked what I was working on. I explained to her some of the duties Lord Nox had left me with, trade routes, negotiations and several other needs both within and outside the North. While I talked, I noticed that the young Lady seemed most confused with several of the trade needs of the North that I was describing. So, I started asking her questions. Northern Houses, customs, importance and why certain things needed to come and go from certain regions. She couldn't answer any of my questions. Questions dealing with southern customs, Houses and anything related to the Seven that I could think of she could answer. But almost everything relating to the North, including our own gods, she could barely answer. And from that day I took it upon myself to tutor the young Lady whenever I had time. And forgive me for saying, Lord Stark, but her level of education is shockingly poor. So poor that today I couldn't hold my tongue any longer and confronted Septa Mordane about what she was teaching the girls. Or rather the lack thereof. Our exchange became heated once she told me that I had no say in the girls' education. And that should I continue my lessons with Lady Arya, that she would inform Lady Stark that I was corrupting her daughters and have me removed. I may have called her a shrew. I cannot remember as I fear my temper got the better of me. But she retaliated by saying that I was a heathenistic whore who had damned her own soul by laying with the sorcerer. And that if I had any sense in my head, I would leave the sorcerer and repent my sinful ways by joining the Silent Sisters and pray that the sorcerer hadn't put a seven-damned hell spawn in my womb before he left the North. I'm afraid that at that, I lost my temper and blackened her eye. And if you need proof, there are three guards I can name that can give testimony supporting my words."

Throughout all her explanation, Lord Stark merely sat there, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Guards," he called out after she'd finished, prompting the two Stark guards standing just outside to enter. "Fetch my daughters and Jayne Poole as well. Bring them here immediately."

"Yes, mi'lord," both men intoned, bowing before making a hasty retreat.

Once they were gone, the Septa seemed to think it was her turn to talk as she stepped forward once more. "Lord Stark, I-"

"Will be silent for the moment," Lord Stark commanded, his voice brokering no argument. "After I speak to my daughters, I will let you have your say."

It only took a scant few minutes for the girls to arrive. Sansa and Jayne both looked more than slightly nervous about being called to the Lord's solar. But Arya didn't seem nervous at all. No doubt the lessons Nox had been impressing on the girl about controlling and calming herself was already starting to payoff.

"Have a seat, girls." Lord Stark said, motioning for the girls to take the seats directly across from him and waiting until they were seated before continuing. "Before we start, I want to say that none of you are in trouble. Having said that, though, I want to test your knowledge. I will be asking you all a variety of questions, some easy and some not. And I want your honest answers. Do not be afraid to say that you do not know, for some of what I will ask will be beyond what you should've learned by now."

"Yes father."

"Yes, Lord Stark."

"Good," Lord Stark nodded. "Then let us begin with something simple. If I were to invite House Cerwyn, House Bolton, and House Manderly to Winterfell for a feast, how many places would I need to have the Great Hall prepared for?"

What followed was a regular gauntlet as Lord Stark fired one question after another off at his daughters and the young Jayne Poole. Questions on Northern Houses, Southern Houses, courtesies, questions of faith concerning both the old and new gods. He also posed hypothetical situations to the girls to gauge their responses. He posed questions on how best to prepare for winter and how best to use excess stores once winter was over. And with each question asked or hypothetical situation posed, she could see the anger slowly rising in Lord Stark as his daughters and Jayne failed to correctly answer almost any question that didn't deal with the Faith of the Seven or sewing. She could even see Lady Stark's eyes starting to tighten around the edges as her knuckles turned white from clenching her fists. Although, as a note of pride, Nyra noted that there were a few questions that Arya was able to answer that her sister and Jayne were unable too.

Finally sated, Lord Stark ceased his onslaught of questions and leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his brow tiredly. "I have failed you three."

"Father?" Sansa asked tentatively, looking towards Jayne, her mother and Septa Mordane before turning back to her father. "How…did we…Are you displeased with us? We can do better!"

Nyra almost winced at the heartbroken voice. While she might think Sansa was still a bit naive about the world, although it was understandable considering the girl has just turned ten namedays, she still cared for the young girl. And seeing her distraught expression at having failed her father was life a dagger to the heart.

"I am displeased, but not with you, my daughter," Lord Stark replied tiredly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his desk. "As those born to Noble Houses, we were born into privilege, girls. But that privilege comes with a price. The smallfolk look to us for guidance. While the smallfolk serve us, so too do we serve the smallfolk. We must be the shield that protects them from those who would do them harm. We must be the voice of reason to settle disputes between them. We must be the ones they look to for guidance when the snows come. Our nobility is both our privilege and our chains that bind us to duty. And it is my responsibility as your father and Lord to make sure that you are ready to take on this daunting task when the time comes. And I have failed you in this."

Taking a moment to visibly compose himself, Lord Stark met his daughter's eyes as he spoke. "From here on out, your lessons will be significantly different. You will still have lessons with Septa Mordane, but they will be limited. You will be spending time dividing your lessons amongst Lady Stark, learning how to run a household, as well as Lady Nyra and Lady Bethany to supplement your lessons alongside Maester Luwin. This is not a punishment, girls. But you need to be ready for what is to come as future Ladies. Understood?"

Each girl nodded. "Good," Lord Stark nodded back with a slight smile. "You three have the rest of the day to yourselves. Go and have fun in the spring snows while it lasts."

The three girls didn't need telling twice as they nearly tripped over one another in their haste to leave the solar. And once they were gone, the feeling in the room instantly shifted from lighthearted to one of dread as Lord Stark's eyes shifted to the wolf's yellow.

"Lord Stark!" the Septa hissed. "I cannot condone letting Ladies of your daughters standing to be taught by those who are infer-"

Nyra, the Septa and Lady Stark jumped as Lord Stark's fist came down on the surface of his desk with enough force to crack the wood. An impressive feat considering the desk was made of ironwood. "What you condone is of no consequence to me, Septa Mordane." Lord Stark nearly spat, his eyes the darkest yellow Nyra had ever seen. "I trusted you with the education of my daughters and of my Steward's daughter. And you have failed most spectacularly. The only reason I haven't thrown you over the Wall and left you to the mercy of the Wildlings is out of respect for my lady wife! You will teach my daughters lessons of sewing, courtesies, and other aspects of being a lady. But that will be it! The rest of their education will not be decided by you. You're dismissed, Septa. Leave my sight before I let Lady Nyra make your eyes a matching set."

The Septa was beyond stunned as she just stood there for a moment, gaping like a fool. Not even Lady Stark, who'd been an avid supporter of spreading the Faith of the Seven through the North, looked to be willing to support the Septa in this matter. Realizing that she would get nowhere fast now, the Septa did the first smart thing Nyra had seen her do all day by bowing slightly and making a hasty exit for the door.

Now alone with the Lord and Lady Stark, Nyra felt more than slightly awkward. "Um, is there anything else you need from me, my Lord?"

"No," Lord Stark said, shaking his head. "That will be all for the day."

Backing towards the door, Nyra was almost free when the voice of Lady Stark stopped her cold. "Lady Nyra."

Nyra blinked. Once. Then twice. Then turned back around. 'No…There is no way that Lady Stark would actually be showing me some measure of respect…is there?' The Lady of Winterfell's head was held high, her face completely neutral as she stood beside her husband. "I appreciate you teaching my daughter a few lessons where her Septa has failed." Lady Stark said, stunning Nyra. "But in the future, please refrain from physically striking the Septa. My daughters look up to you, and as such I am expecting you to set a good example for them on how to be proper Ladies."

Whatever Nyra had been expecting, this was not it. "Um, very well, Lady Stark," she said, bowing. "I will make sure that there is no repeat of what happened today. But I will not stand for my honor being insulted again, my Lady. No Lady should."

"Of course not," Lady Stark acknowledged. "But there are more ladylike ways to counter a dishonorable statement rather than relying on your fist like a Wildling."

'Not a Wilding, true Northern Lady,' Nyra wanted to say. But instead she merely bit her tongue and, with one last low bow, left the Lord and Lady Stark so that she could continue about her day.

The city of Volantis was indeed an awe-inspiring sight. The port was perhaps the largest Nox had ever seen in his life. It dwarfed White Harbor and even made the port that was under the Titan of Braavos seem small in comparison. The city itself was divided in half by the Rhoyne river that spread up through Essos, the only connection between the two being the so-called Long Bridge that merged the two parts of the city together into one. But perhaps the most distinguishing part of the city were the Black Walls on the eastern half of the city that served to separate the upper class from the rest of the denizens of Volantis. And it was under the towering walls that Nox found himself, barely even an hour after stepping foot off the Sea Wolf, in the accompaniment of what he could only assume was an honor guard of some sort, given how the dozen men's armor who were escorting him seemed more ceremonial and elaborate than traditional combat armor.

The Sea Wolf had just barely made port before they'd been greeted by the men that were now escorting Nox through the city and into what he could only assume to be the palace that housed the ruling class. The only words they spoken was that they'd been sent by the Tiger Triarch of Volantis who wished to speak with him, and only him. Besides announcing whom they were looking for and why, the only clue as to their identity was the strange small nexu-like creature that was engraved onto the chest of their armor. A tiger, if Nox remember correctly. And the symbol of one of the two main ruling powers of Volantis. Naturally, the men of the North appeared more than slightly put off on the manner to which he'd been summoned, but Nox had dismissed their concerns. If anything, Nox was curious as to how exactly the Triarchs of Volantis knew he was here. And more specifically, why one of them requested a meeting with him before he could even take two steps on dry land.

"Hold," one of the guards called out just as they were about to enter the palace proper while holding out his hand. His accent thick and the word sounded odd, as if he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. Obviously, the Westerosi tongue was not native or widely spoken in this land. "Weapon."

Reaching down to his waist, Nox pulled out his lightsaber hilt and flipped it around and held it out for the guard to take. The guard who'd asked hesitantly reached out and took the offered hilt before looking the object over, confusion as to just what he was looking at clear across his face. As he did, Nox subtly waved his hand across the front of his chest. "It is no real weapon. I am carrying no weapons."

The guard scoffed. "This. No weapon." He said in broken Westeros before handing his lightsaber back. "Come. Tiger Maegyr waits."

While they walked through the expansive palace, Nox let his senses flow, taking in everything he could. Which, surprisingly, wasn't much. The palace, despite being the middle of the day, seemed almost empty save for a few servants, or rather slaves, that were scurrying about trying to complete their assigned tasks while making sure to pay no mind to Nox and the guards that were escorting him through the corridors. 'This Tiger Maegyr apparently doesn't want our discussion here to be known.' Nox concluded as he pulled his sense back into himself. 'Yet he had his personal guards pull me off the ship almost as soon as we docked. Hmm. Politics at its finest I see.'

As they left the slaves behind and entered what felt like a more residential part of the palace, Nox quickly started going over everything he'd learned about Volantis's ruling structure. 'They are rule by a Triarchy, three men from two different political stances. The Tigers and the Elephants. The Tigers are considered the 'old blood' and represent the more militaristic side of Volantis. While the Elephants favor trade and are backed by the merchants of the city. A representative of Westeros being presented to the Triarchs wouldn't be unheard of, but they care little for Westeros and consider the land a backwater. But I am not being brought to the Triarchs as a whole. Just one. The Tiger Maegyr. And with the amount of security and secrecy, he doesn't want my presence here with him to be general knowledge. Which means, he wants something. Well, if nothing else, this little excursion will certainly break up the boredom that months on the water has brought about.'

Soon enough, his escort stopped outside a seemingly random and, frankly, ordinary looking door given the décor of the palace. Reaching out with his senses, he could sense only a single individual within. "Inside." The guard who'd asked for his weapon commanded, stepping aside as the rest of the guards took up positions outside the door. "We wait. Listen. Trouble start, you die."

"Fair enough," Nox acknowledged, pushing open the door and entering the room.