The Heir

When Yvar the Mad fled from the Hightower fleet and pirates of the Iron Isles after the sack of Oldtown, he settled on the peninsula of Sea Dragon Point, where he made a circular wooden fort and named it: Sunhall. For the writings in runes say that the sun shone brighter there than on the highest hill where he had planned to build his abode. Sunhall grew and Frostport slowly came into being and when one of Yvar's grandsons, remembered as Yvan the Wise, knelt to the Winter Kings of House Stark and his fleet of one hundred galleys began trade with the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the wars of conquest began and there the bond between Wyce and Stark began. At the end of the Winter Kings' wars of conquest, the total unification of the kingdoms beyond the Neck began the construction of Tentown by the sons of Yvar the Proud. Tentown got its name from a circular fort that is currently Sunhall Castle protected by a wall of stone and wood, it extended to ten more outer walls and each region was as large as King's Landing or Oldtown and was then called Ten Town's in One: Tentown.

Frostport had always been busy, from ships and galleys with the Lannister, Redwyne and Hightower sigil to even ships from Essos and the Summer Isles. But the Manderly ships and galleys are the majority and are always docked with thousands of wooden crates containing spices, seeds and food for the Gift of Robert, sent to the Towers house.

Orwen had been responsible for managing the Frostport turnpike since his sixteenth nameday, as had his father Garvy and his father, and his father's father. Frosthrone's heirs were always the treasurers of Frostport after a certain age and it was no different with him. Orwen saw hundreds of southern nobles, Essosi, Summer Islander's and even Yi Ti. But the only good visitor was that smuggler: Davos. A Kingslander who brought him a box of spices diverted from a Yitish cargo to Astapor. He thought that the underworld of Frostport was not under the control of House Wyce, so he tried to bribe and divert grain from House Towers but unfortunately... Or fortunately he found a young Orwen Wyce with a lot of power in his hands. Orwen still remembers the conversation he had with a beaten and broken Davos.

"Do you know who I am?"

"A Noble, my lord"

"Call me Orwen"

"Garvy the Icescourge's son?"

"What's his name?"

"Davos, m'lord"

"Smugglers are a problem from Karhold to Sunhall, Davos, but this is the first time I've seen a smuggler sell our house so much saffron without a fleet of Essosi hunting escorts. It's normal for me to just cut off his head and feed it to the bears from Bear Island your remains. But it's been three weeks since your arrest and there haven't even been Volantene messengers littering the floor of my dock looking for you Davos, tell me... Your saffron pleased my father and I like it how he praises my achievements. Would you like to join our company?"

Davos proved to be a competent man, traveling throughout the Known World from Frostport, Greywater Watch, Lannisport, Oldtown, Sunspear, King's Landing, Braavos, Pentos, Myr and Volantis. Sailing by night and with so many riches that even a Magister will never touch with his oily fingers.

"Lord Orwen"

He called Davos. Six years have passed since that day and Orwen has grown up, no longer that young man of eighteen nameday's but now a man with a full twenty five nameday's.

"Say Davos"

The administrator replied, getting up from the brothel bed. The Widow's Hug was as old as a noble house and its girls were professionals, as good as women of Lys and in all ten cities there was a tower as big as the red cloak buildings with red glass lanterns over each window. Grinnora's Widow's Hug was Orwen's favorite brothel, as besides being close to the pier, it was more expensive and few common men came to that tower and the women were purer and more beautiful, he also likes how the building's antiquity it brings him peace, something a chief administrator does not enjoy easily. Sunhall's heir had spent the night and dawn with experienced women and inexperienced young women as he always did every seven days.

"News of the utmost importance arrives from all sides, my lord"

Davos' words came out with errors, sighs and stutters. Davos was no noble, but from the good living he had made working as an agent in the heir's shadow, he had paid one of Maester Khort's acolytes of Frostport to teach him the ropes. But Orwen hated the cultured norm.

"Have I not told you to speak as the world has taught you?"

He said with annoyance in his tone. Davos stepped back but then stood straight and silent.

"Never mind, Davos. What happened while I was resting?"

Orwen got out of bed and took his clothes clean in the early hours of the morning and left to dry in the strong winds coming from the Sunset Sea.

"A few galleys arrived on schedule, three in total with the absence of a single ship from Lannisport. An eagle had been sent to our outpost in Blacktyde and Seagard."

The man listened intently to Davos as he donned his white doublet alone and tied his navy blue cape to a metal brooch in the shape of Wyce's ice mountain on his right shoulder.

"A message has come from Winterfell for a eagle, my lord."

He looked at Davos who held a paper sealed in wax and emblazoned with Tyron Wyce's ring: A starry-eyed cat. The heir had taken the message from his hands and read it from beginning to end and then sighed heavily, as if a heavy burden had fallen from his shoulders.

"Good news, Lord Orwen?"

Davos asked with a yellow-toothed smile. Orwen tore the paper in his hands.

"My brother brought me the worst news"

Sunhall's heir had said.

"Jon Arryn had died mysteriously. A brother of the Night's Watch fled his duty, claiming that blue demons murdered his brothers while on patrol."

Davos understood who Jon Arryn was, the Hand of King, the highest authority below Robert Baratheon and lord of the Vale. But he didn't understand why it was important for an insane man claiming to see monsters and madness at what was known as the edge of the world.

"Do you know why Tentown is called that, Davos?"

The smuggler shook his head.

"Yvar the Proud they call you Andals. He was a proud man and it was a fact that even in the ancient runes his arrogance was described. But Yvar XI Wyce was not just proud. We First Men called him Yvar Greeneye for being the first Wyce to allow the priests of the Old God's made the garden of Sunhall their holy abode"

"The garden?"

Davos glanced at the window in the room, right where Sunhall stood with its great gray stone tower, the structure surrounded by Weirwoods so large and ancient that their branches shaped themselves around the largest of the buildings in the great city.

"You mean the Godswood, my lord"

He understood quickly. Sunhall's Godswood was a garden before the arrival of the Andals. The smuggler had always wondered why there were two Godswood's in the castle, one around the main tower in the center of the building and another to the west with the best view of the sunset.

"Are there priests of the Old God's in Sunhall? As well as those in Greywater's Watch and the Isle of Faces?"

"These are real priests, not Green Man's"

Davos didn't believe his lord's words. He had already spent a whole day in Sunhall and had never seen these so-called priests, even when Lord Garvy Wyce took him to the Godswood that surrounded the main tower, he felt nothing but the silence of an ordinary garden.

"But that doesn't matter now. We have a missing ship and a king without a hand coming to look for the only friend he has left in this world"

Orwen leaves the room and walks up the stairs that connect the tenth to the ninth floor.

"Any detailed information on the Lannisport ship?"

"A noble was on board and a garrison of fifty or so Lannister soldiers, the rest are just registered sailors"

"Tell me there isn't a Lannister from Lannisport on that ship"

"The smallest of all, my lord"

"Tyrion Lannister"

Orwen ran a hand through his brown hair and sighed in annoyance, now out of the Widow's Hug. Tentown is divided into ten districts, ranging from the first and oldest: Grinnora to the last and newest: Dasa. The district of Grinnora is as beautiful as the woman whose name it belonged to. Grinnora Wyce was half Lannister from Lannisport and her pale blond hair and crimson clothing were well known at summer parties in the nameless city that would later receive its own.

Grinnora extended for blocks, more than a hundred blocks built with dark gray stone from the northern mountains and the streets looked like the walls of a newly erected tower, perfectly glued together and despite the summer snow getting them wet, they remained dry with the salt mined on clan lands, always melting and ensuring the walking of passers-by and residents. Tentown was to Winterfell what Oldtown was to Highgarden and it was indisputable how Yvar the Mad's sack bore fruit to this day.

Orwen came out and saw ten men wearing chain mail and dark blue cloaks, they carried spears and swords with them, all riding good horses. These were the Frostcloaks, an order of warriors who patrol and protect Tentown from hoodlums and merchants who do not know the law for smuggling goods. Davos understood well how an Frostcloaks acted when laws were broken. He got on one horse and Davos on another and they trotted west toward Frostport. The port extended as far as possible, many docked ships were preparing to leave in the afternoon of that day and new ones would arrive. The sailors, upon noticing the arrival of the chief administrator, moved out of the way of the horses, for they feared the wrath of the man that even the magisters of Myr respect.

It went to a building built on a stony hill, the Frostport captaincy looked more like a Holdfast than a building, going from the walls that surround it to the soldiers armed with crossbows and longbows. But the round-headed tower was more eye-catching, as it had shining mirrored glass windows that transform into a warm, orange beacon on dark nights. Sailors say that the Wyce house used the methods stolen from the Citadel to create the Sunset Eye, the name given by navigators to the Frostport lighthouse. Entering the captaincy, climbing the stairs and entering the administrator's manor below the Sunset Eye, Orwen opened a cup of fermented goat's milk. The drink was strong and bitter like life beyond the wall.

He had spent a lot to interrogate the wildlings on how to prepare such a drink, it was relatively easy but it was not complete and it was necessary to feed many wildlings for many months while they cooked and seasoned everything. After Tentown's brewmasters learned the formula, the captured wildling slept that night but never saw the light of the next day. Now Frostport exported Towers wine, Karhold beer, and Tentown fermented milk to the seven kingdoms.

"How is Saloman?" The administrator asked about his younger brother, the youngest in the house Wyce.

"Little Saloman is in the castle, having returned from Bear Island in the morning, he told me he needed to sleep..." Davos backed away slightly, afraid of his words.

"Did he say anything else?"

Orwen questioned.

"He Said He Needed a Maester for the Wounds Lady Mormont Left on His Back During the Dawn"

Orwen laughed proudly at his younger brother and looked up at the hill where Sunhall shines in the rays from the east.

In Winterfell.

Tyron Wyce, a man of nineteen nameday's, tall and muscular body, with hair blonder than the Wyce's characteristic brown. Tyron had been at Winterfell more than Sunhall since he was eight years old, but whenever they saw him they showed almost equal respect to the Starks. He didn't understand at first, he thought that all of this was because of his father's actions in Robert's rebellion but deep down he knew that the real reason was because of his mother. Lady Myna Umber. A big, strong woman, a fierce beauty that only the North can create, and a woman beloved by Garvy Wyce.

Lady Myna lived in Winterfell for a time when Garvy himself was adopted by Rickard Stark and there they took oaths of love for both of them and according to the stories, Lord Garvy headed to Last Hearth where he battled dozens of Umber warriors and then massacred wildlings for Lady Myna's hand. Tyron was the closest of Myna's children to resembling their mother, even with the predominant blond hair on his head, Lady Myna said that Tyron was the son kissed by the blizzard. Her death during the birth of little Saloman brought the only expression that Tyron would carry to this day: Indifference.

"Tyron!"

He called the black-haired, long-faced boy Stark. He wore a dark cotton doublet, long gray linen pants, and a white cape with the gray-furred direwolf sewn onto it. The boy Jon Stark looked more and more every day like the man Lord Eddard had described to him during dinners in the great hall of Winterfell: Brandon Stark. Unlike Brandon who stole horses and went on adventures across the north, Jon loves playing his harp and singing to Dyana.

"Tyron, look what I learned from that Dayah harpist!"

Jon then ran his fingers over the lyre harp and played his most famous song: [Natural]. It was not light and melodic but rather fast and heavy, like battle drums and the notes seemed like the clang of swords clashing with impressive rhythm and order. But Jon's ability had changed. His long fingers no longer accelerated and the boy's tempo advanced during the bridges but each finger now had its own order of strings to play in rhythm. The harpist from the fourth city of Tentown: Dayah. His name is Arjen the Ghostfingers and he was not just a traveling musician but a Frostcloak and Jon's personal guard. In addition to Arjen there were also Sanya and Anary, the twin maids for the twins Jon and Dyana.

Tyron lived in Winterfell as a knight to the squire Jon, even though he was not that old but it was the consensus of his father and Eddard Stark that Jon needed a mentor for matters involving the administration of Winterfell and the north itself, as Ned Stark had not been taught how to manage, the duty was given to the captain of the Frostcloak's of Tentown: Tyron Wyce.

"Has your sister heard of your new ability?"

He asked.

"Dyana is with Sansa, she heard that Uncle Ned intends to marry her to Prince Joffrey Baratheon"

Tyron's gaze twitched slightly. It was no news that the king had Eddard Stark as a brother since they both grew up in the Eyrie, Tyron himself has Jon as his younger brother, more than his own brother Saloman who he never knew beyond a baby living in Sunhall before he left for Winterfell.

"What does she think of that?"

Tyron asked Jon.

"Sansa is a good girl. She likes sewing, singing, and stories about knights saving maidens."

Jon hadn't looked at Tyron at any point, he lowered his head and lightly plucked the strings creating a sad melody.

"But she doesn't deserve a southern man, they like to cheat on their women and pepper alleys with bastards"

"What about southern women?"

Tyron waited for Jon's eyes to meet his. He then raised his head and the silver gray pearls lit up with the pale light of that day. Jon was as Stark as his cousin Robb who had Tully's red and blue.

"What about them?"

Jon frowned.

"You know that your uncle intends to offer the hand of a southern lady or an heir to a regent house for you and your sister"

Jon was angered by his statement.

But only his icy voice came out in response.

"Fuck them"