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By a window, a young girl stands staring out at the bay of Pentos; fishers haul nets full of wriggling fish from their boats onto the docks. The setting sun silhouettes the brick towers of the Free City; intricate and colorful geometric patterns decorate their bulbous domes. Daenerys is a beautiful girl, but nobody has bothered to tell her. She is awkward in her skin, unaware of how rare her violet eyes and lush silver hair are. But she has felt something or instead dreamt of something—a lady in a house she was not born to. A lady with beautiful skin just like hers, fair blonde hair, and blue icicle-colored eyes. on her side was a black-white wolf, the sigil of House Stark. Daenerys knew she was supposed to meet this lady and help her find her back home. Maybe the dragon's daughter could be safe again. 

"Where's my sweet sister?" a voice startles teh young girl out of her daydream. She turns around seeing a man stepping s into the room, a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale eyes. He holds a lilac gown in his hands. "A gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Goon. Feel the fabric." he says, smiling a little. Daenerys does as he says, letting the delicate silk run through her fingers. It is a gorgeous gown, but the sight of it gives her no pleasure. "Tonight, you must look like a princess," Viserys says, and Daenerys looks at him, handing the gown back. "He gives us so much... we've been his guests for a year, and he never asked for anything," she says, and her brother shrugs. "Illyrio's no fool. He knows I won't forget my friends when I come onto the throne." 

He hangs the gown from a hook beside the door. "I'll send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off that stable stink," he says, then studies her critically. "You still slouch. " He pushes back her shoulders. "Let them see you have a woman's body now" His fingers brush lightly over her breasts, judging their shape beneath the rough fabric of her tunic. "Don't fail me tonight. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" He leans forward, hurting her gently in a way, "Do you? " Daenerys shakes her head. "No. " Viserys smiles and release her, brushing back her hair with something like affection. "When they write the history of my reign, they will say it began tonight." 

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"She is a vision, your Grace. Drogowill be impressed." Illyrio says, nodding at Daenerys. "She's too skinny. Are you sure he likes his women this young?" the Magister shrugs. "She's had her blood; she's old enough. Look at her!" he pauses a little "Highest of the highborn, daughter of the last king, sister to the future king... he'll want her." Viserys nods secpaticly. "I suppose. The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep..." IIIyrio raises a brow. "Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo." Viserys being the man he is takes this as an offense. "Do you take me for a fool?" the Magister Illyrio gives a slight bow. "I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of commoners. My apologies if I have given offense." he then claps his hand, and a servant Y wearing a brass collar, crouched in the corner of the litter, hurries over to refillIllyrio's wine glass.

"I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him status--" Viserys once more nods at Dany "- and he gives me an army." His fingers toy with the hilt of his sheathed sword. "I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers behind me. The people will be with us. They cry out for their true king." Viserys pauses and gives Illyrio an edgy look. "They do, don't they?" IIIyiro nods, behaving like an amiable salesman luring his prey. "All across the Kingdoms, men lift secret toasts to your health. Their women sew dragon banners in the hope of your return from across the water." he shrugs. "Or so my agents tell me." 

Daenerys, who has watched Illyrio throughout his speech, turns away. She keeps her own counsel, but it's clear the words that so inspire Viserys do not impress her. she then remembers the woman from the dream and how regal she looked, how the dire wolf sat at her side like a loyal companion. She then said, "come, Daenerys. let's be free of them" that's where the dream ended, and she woke. The young white-haired girl sighs. In her heart, she hopes to see the woman soon and be in a better place than this hellhole. 

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The walled city of King's Landing, capital of Westeros. The royal castle, the Red Keep, built of red sandstone, perched on the cliffs above Blackwater Bay. The seven-towered GreatSept of Baelor rises on the south edge of the city. In between sprawls, the fetid slum called Flea Bottom. The Red Keep comes into view,  a window near the top of the Tower of the Hand.  in a chamber, a man named Jon Arryn, cold and still, lies on his deathbed. he is about 60 years. Two silent sisters are beside him, veiled adherents to the Faith of the seven, fold their hands across his chest and close their eyelids. Grand Master Pycelle stands beside them. He wears a heavy chain around his neck, each link forged with a different metal. Beside him is Queen Cersei. a green-eyed and golden-haired; the queen's beauty has already become a legend. Both look down at Jon Arryn. 

 "I gave him milk of the poppy at the end. To ease his path." Pycelle says. teh queen touches the old Maester's arm in thanks. "We are blessed to have a man of your wisdom caring for us," she says, but the old Maester is not too old to appreciate a little flattery or the touch of a beautiful woman. "He was peaceful in his final hours?" Cersei asks gently. "Mostly he slept, my Grace. Though had moments of clarity." "Did he? What did he say in these moments of clarity?" the queen interrupts. "He asked to see the King--" once more, the queen interrupted, "Robert will never forgive himself for not being here. These hunts of his last longer and longer." Pycelle says and ends his words, "And he asked to see Lord Stark." 

Cersei nods calmly and says in fake sympathy, "A shame Lord Stark is a thousand leagues away. That was all?" the man thinks for a moment, "Yes... No. There was a phrase, one phrase he kept repeating. "The seed is strong." the queen frowns, focusing her green eyes on the man on the bed. "The seed is strong? What does that mean?" 

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Winterfell, the stronghold and ancestral home of House Stark, is an ancient and austere place. Many acres lie within its two concentric granite walls; its keeps and towers stretch toward the gray skies above. a black feathered raven flies overhead, heading to the stronghold with a small parchment scroll dangling from its leg. The blackbird soon lands on the windowsill of an unknown man. The man is a small, gray man: with gray eyes, gray hair, gray wool robe. A heavy chain lies around his neck, much like Maester Pycelle's. he takes the parchment the raven gives him and starts to read it, his face darkening. 

Later in the forest, humus lies thick upon the forest floor, swallowing the sound of a woman's feet as she walks. The woman makes her way among the dark tree trunks, their twisted branches weaving a dense canopy over her head. In her hand, she holds the small parchment scroll the raven gave to the man. Finally, she reaches a small grove at the center of the wood, where an ancient weirwood tree broods over a small, black pool. Looking like no tree on Earth, the weirwood's bark is bone-white, its leaves dark red. Long ago, a sad face was carved into its trunk; its deep-cut eyes are red with dried sap. They seem to follow her as she rounds the tree.

Seated on a moss-covered stone on the other side of the tree, Ned rests his sword, Ice, across his knees as he cleans it with a cloth dipped in the black waters at his feet. "I knew I'd find you here," she says and smiles at her husband. "Tell me," he says, lifting his head. "Forgive me, my lord... there was a raven from King's Landing. JonArryn is dead." Ned looks at the wet sword lying flat across his lap. "How?" he uttered. "A fever took him. He was healthy at the full moon and gone by the half." his wife answers him, "Your sister, the boy...?" Caitlyn sihgs and answers calmly, "The letter said they're well." 

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"his brothers helped him. Y/n too," Ned says, and Caitlyn sings, "Eight is too young to see such things." Ned raised a brow. "Should I tell you about the things I saw before I was eight?" he paused. "He won't be a child forever. And winter is coming." Caitlyn seems disturbed by the words and sighs. "Y/n is already a lady. What happened exactly when you found those wolves?" she asked, looking at her husband. Ned says, "she bonded to them, I think. the one who Bran got seemed to like her. and she seemed connected to them as well" Catlyn nods "well, she always she fancy animals instead of men" Ned nods "yeah she's,.. qeer but I'm glad we took her in" they both smile at each "I just wish we knew who her family was" Caitlyn speaks up. ¨

Ned places a hand o her shoulder "she will find who in time, my dear." '

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