The Northern Dragon

CH 8: I KEPT MY PROMISE

Apologies kept escaping Sansa as her tears continued to fall, the Targaryen pulling her away and brushing the tears off, "It's alright. Forget about that."

Nodding her head rapidly, the Stark rubbed all her tears off and smiled at the dragon, "Yes, everything is going to be fine now. There is nothing to fear."

Narrowing her lilac orbs in confusion, Rhaenys held her shoulders, "What did you do?"

"I didn't have to. His Grace has promised to grant Father mercy. He will be sent to the Night's Watch, but he'll be safe." kept smiling the wolf.

Taking a deep breath, the white-haired woman asked the question she dreaded since hearing what the girl said, "In exchange for what?"

Not getting what her father's ward was getting at, Sansa replied simply, "He just has to confess his crimes. If he confesses what he has done, then everything will be fine."

"If he confesses?" Rhaenys squeezed her lips, breathing shakenly.

Seeing the woman's reaction, the innocent wolf tilted her head, "What's wrong, Rhaenys?"

Not wanting to worry her, the albino simply shook her head and covered up her true feelings as she forced a smile, "Nothing, nothing at all. I just hope it all works out."

She wrapped her arms around the redhead once again and they stayed in each other's arms just like that without moving for a while. Sansa never noting what kind of effect her words truly had on the princess.

The most honorable man in the kingdoms was going to confess to committing treason in front of the whole capital. Treason against a boy that had no claim to the throne he was sitting on.

He was going to lie in front of the people and the Gods.

He was going to proclaim Joffrey as the one true King.

Rhaenys never prayed to the Gods before, but it did not mean that she didn't believe in their existence. And from what she had seen, they do not like liars.

"When does Aemon think you'll be able to use that hand?" asked the Lord Commander the moment he walked through the door to his office, Jon standing by the side, "Soon, he says."

"Good." he walked to the fireplace and grabbed his sword, the head of a white wolf on the handle, "You'll be ready for this then." Mormont walked closer to the boy and offered him the weapon, "I thought a wolf was more appropriate for you than a bear... So I had a new pommel made. It's called Longclaw. Works as well for a wolf as a bear, I think."

Snow grabbed the weapon hastily with furrowed brows, inspecting the blade before looking back up at the man in confusion, "This is Valyrian steel."

The Mormont nodded, hands behind his back, "It was my father's sword, his father's before him. The Mormonts have carried it for five centuries. It was meant for my son Jorah. He brought dishonor to our House, but he had the grace to leave the sword before he fled from Westeros."

"My Lord, you honor me, but I can't-"

"Oh, you can and you will." interrupted the commander, "I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you and your beast. A bloody dead man tried to kill me... So you'll take it. I'll hear no more about it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, My Lord." muttered Jon, the older man nodding, taking a drink and sitting at his desk, "Right. Now don't think this means I approve of this nonsense with you and Alliser Thorne. That's a man's sword, it'll take a man to wield it."

The bastard looked down before speaking, "I'll apologize to Ser Alliser tonight."

"No, you won't." rejected Mormont, "I sent him to King's Landing yesterday. The hand that your wolf tore off that thing's wrist... I've ordered Thorne to lay it at the feet of this... boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention. And it puts a thousand leagues between you and Thorne. Now go and put your sword somewhere safe and bring me my supper."