First of all my sincerest apologies for this very late update that I had promised in January .All I can say is 11th grade was a BITCH but somehow I scraped by! Sadly I have no large breaks coming up so this update won't be followed by another anytime soon (probably).

Memories in the Wind
It looked like a quiet summers day.A man sat in the godswood in winterfell, his back to the heart tree and a valyrian steel sword in hand. Three children sat in front of him.A toddler was securely grasped to his sisters chest and squirming. The oldest boy was 10 years while the rest were 8, 6 &4. They did not look much similar to each other apart from their grey eyes.

They were all listening attentively to the tale told by their father Lord Rickard Stark. Brandon, Ned and benjen sighed in unison as the tale of the storm king and his wife came to an end but the girl; lyanna looked disappointed. As they all got up and started back to the castle Lyanna turned towards her brother Ned who spent most of his time in the vale said that she'll never fall in love and be cooped inside some castle with the utmost brother simply smiled and ruffled her hair.

A tower stood desolate upon a this tower was named the tower of joy but for more than 18 years now it has fallen to ruin. But the marches were settled primarily by the first men and so in the overgrown garden there still was a weirwood tree with a face carved on it. The tree remembered a day 18 years ago. A 16 year old girl heavy with child cried in front of it. She cried for the brother and father who had died, the brother who may soon die along with the man she loved. She cried because she knew she would not live to see either of them again. She sobbed as she knew she would not hold her son in her arms. She knew the fate that was already thrust upon the child yet she was helpless to do anything. Rhaegar may think it was a girl but she knew better.

Ser Arthur Dayne grunted as he finally managed to knock the young lord down disarming him in the process. He never would have thought quiet Eddard Stark was such a fine swordsman. Or maybe it was something else that was driving him. As the sword of the morning lifted Dawn to end another Starks life a spear stabbed him in the calf. A startled cry of pain escaped his lips and looking back he saw the small cannogman racing towards him with a sword. Ignoring the pain in his leg he stood up, Dawn held at the ready. As his opponent neared he hefted his sword for the blow but suddenly, suddenly there was an immense pain in his chest as a valyrian steel great sword burst through. As he fell he could only see a pair of muddy boots sprinting towards the tower entrance.

Wherever you go in this world there are stories of great men who are immortal through the ages. One such is the last hero also known as Azor ahai. The gray king, Brandon the builder and Durran Godsgrief are some similar characters of legend as well. Yet though they are lost in the recesses of memory now, they once were real man of flesh and blood. But with time history turns to legend and legend turns to myth leaving the truth in them scarce and hard to find. But in some cases history comes back to haunt those foolish enough to forget it.

The lands of always winter are mostly unmapped. In old maps drawn by the first men a little ways north-east from thenn the uncharted mountains start. At the base howrever is one large lake. No names does it have now but the first men called it dead Kings lake. A cave within the first mountains bowels had a part of that lake in it.

And right now a specter came out of it. IT WAS THAT OF A MAN with only one eye. The specter slowly rose from the lake and advanced through the lake. Large spiders scuttled around the walls growing as large as a bear. The cave looked like it was once a temple. Collapsed and destroyed columns with ancient runes carved into them could be seen. The specter reached the far end and there sat upon a throne of three wirewood trees tangled around each other was a creature of nightmares. As the specter and the creature locked their eyes a monstrosity of a smile came to the creatures face. A CHALLENGE was issued and accepted. A challenge on humanity and whether or not they will survive. It was completely up to them but the specter knew the chances were not in their favor.

Bran stared in awe as the three eyed crow finished his tale of confrontation with the nights king. "So can I become a specter and do that? He asked. Lord Brynden gave him a wane smile "you may learn it in time but I'm afraid it won't be from me. "he looked melancholy for a second and Bran knew why. Brynden Bloodraven was on borrowed time and that time was expiring quickly.

Bran shuddered thinking about when he would have to take on the mantle of the three eyed crow. Granted he would not fight in the open but from the shadows it will be up to him in most part to ensure man kinds continued survival.

He didn't even feel the vague sense of wonderment he used to feel whenever he thought about his situation. To Brandon Stark the world of his childhood fairy-tales has become the utter reality.

Lord Blooderaven was already dreaming away in his throne so bran decided he would check up on a few things. The game he had in mind was dangerous even by the standard of "the game of thrones". He hasn't even told Lord Brynden about it fearing he might have some reluctance concerning his past affiliations. But he knew he must do it and not all fairy-tells should be allowed to exist. He will have to talk with Robb again to make the final preparations. Bran leaned back on his throne and let his mind wonder. First he went south towards Starrlords point searching for a great presence.

Panic began to assail him as he could not find the huge dragon he had taken from the Targaryen queen. Bran frowned. According to the three eyed crow dragons needed freedom to truly grow in size and the continuous freedom this one had was turning it into a goliath of a beast indeed.

Visually reminiscent of Balerion the Black it had doubled in size in its time living south of the wall. A sudden thought struck Bran as he wheeled his mind further north-east. As he neared Hardhome he felt drogon. The dragon was sitting on a hilltop feasting upon the charred carcass of a horse. As bran entered its mind the dragon fought with him with frightening intensity. Though a beast it still possessed more intelligence than even a horse. Along with that, the sheer vastness of its ferocity and will to destroy was rather hard for Bran to subjugate.

As he wrestled with its mind the dragon gave an almighty roar and leapt into the sky breathing a column of fire as it tried to fight of its invisible opponent. Drogon kept climbing up and roaring as he tried to shake Brans presence. But after nearly a minute of struggling Bran finally managed to push the dragon's consciousness down and take control of its body. As he gazed through the beasts extremely keen eyes he saw the huge congregation of wildlings down near the coast was completely and utterly still gazing up at Drogon with mouths agape.

Bran cursed his luck. Drogon was the secret trump card in his plan if his brother managed to pull his part in the scheme through. With the wildlings aware of the dragon in their vicinity, for one thing there might be mass panic and for another his plan might be rendered useless as well.

He was in a pinch bran knew as he flew off westwards back towards the hounted forest. Keeping a constant eye out to make sure the dragon didn't just fly off on its whim was hard enough as it was without the added stress of wondering if it was enjoying its time in the north by eating smoked wildlings. Deciding the game in the haunted forest would keep the beast occupied for some time he withdrew himself from the body. The giant dragon, which was easily 50 feet in length now gave a shrug of its body and leisurely flew down towards the forest.

It was nearing midnight and the moon was concealed by clouds as the kennel master made his way up the winding staircase leading to the chambers of the lord of Dreadfort. Ben bones was feeling rather merry at the moment which had no small correlation with the amount of ale he had drunk. Clutched tightly to his hand was the other reason why he was feeling particularly happy.

At the top of the tower a broad wooden door with a flayed man engraved on it was being guarded by two men. Bones knew them both. Sour Alyn & yellow Dick. Part of the infamous Bastards boys. They stepped aside as he opened the door and went in. As the doors closed behind him he saw the current Lord of the Dreadfort Ramsey Bolton Sitting on his Late Lord fathers bed and cleaning a hunting knife.

"His Lordship" Looked up at him with those unnerving eyes he had inherited from his father. Bones nervously shuffled his feet. Ramsey was unbalanced and unpredictable to begin with but now he was what they call "bat shit crazy". Ever since the Bolton Lord was beheaded by Robb stark and all the other northern lords found out that it was Ramsey who had burned down Winterfell( Courtesy of Theon greyjoys squire) they weren't in good shape. Thankfully the drawing winter and rumors of Other's have the Lords preoccupied .

What do you want Bones?" Ramsey asked in his usual sadistic voice. He was an ugly man with ugly features without a doubt but frightening as well. He cleared his throat "the maester just received this raven from from one of Lord Roose's old spies in white Harbor." He passed Ramsey the paper. Though not a very good reader he knew Ramsey knew how to read. Though he was a little scared about the Bastards reaction since this has been a sore spot of his .

Ramsey looked up. He had that unnatural smile of his stretched across his face. Being the kennel master of the Dreadfort for nearly 15 years there were very few things Ben Bones was unnerved by. But looking at Ramsey Snow's lop-sided grin with the gleam in his eyes that practically screamed his insanity HE DECIEDED that was one of those things. "What should I tell the boys my Lord"? he asked. Snow smiled even wider "Tell them we're going pup hunting".

"But that leaves the castle unguarded. What if Stannis attacks again? He asked. Surely the boy had to understand it. Ramsey's face darkened as he stood up "Don't you fucking question me Bones! I'm the lord Bolton and you'll do what I fucking tell you to do." He was practically seething. Thankfully he calmed down a bit before continuing "And even if Baratheon does attack he'll have to mount a siege. By then we can get to the wall and after flaying a Stark and Snow I'll have some fun with his bitch wife and filthy daughter." The look in those eyes made even a man like Ben Bones cringe. "The maester asked me ask about greyjo… I mean Reek" he corrected hurriedly. Ramsey was quiet for a few seconds before he replied. "I'll bring him along. His been stuck in the kennel for to long. I want him to see what I'll do to his little foster brother".