They left the Citadel in silence, but not empty-handed.
Cregan gave Marwyn and Luwin two days to prepare. In that time, he rented a second ship under discreet Northern colors—The Stone Root—crewed by loyal men and captained by a trusted Forrester bannerman. Its hold was converted not for trade, but for thought: bunked rows for thirty scholars, cots for twenty more, and five long iron-chained chests, each sealed with the direwolf of House Stark. No maester's mark. No southern approval.
Inside those chests lay the mind of Oldtown.
While the maesters whispered about his provocations, Cregan had walked the Citadel's halls dropping what he called rune-stones—small gray discs etched with scripts from the vault beneath Winterfell. They held no heat, made no sound, and vanished from the eye once placed. But they remembered.
The walls, the floors, the very breath of the place was mapped. Every scroll. Every record. Every forbidden page tucked behind false walls and locked doors.
By the second morning, the entire knowledge base of the Citadel—flawed or not—was copied and stored. Quietly. Entirely.
Luwin had opened one of the chests just once and wept.
---
The Docks
The morning fog curled like sleepwalking ghosts as the scholars loaded onto The Stone Root. Not all were young. Many had crooked backs, broken nails, jaundiced skin. But every one of them bore a look that no southerner in the harbor understood.
Freedom.
Benjen leaned on a bollard and watched them board. "Not even one asked for coin."
"They want meaning," Cregan said. "And revenge."
"Revenge?"
"Against the place that made them feel small for daring to know more."
Benjen nodded. "And what happens when they find out the North is colder, hungrier, harder?"
"They'll adapt," Cregan said. "Or they'll leave. But they'll never say we lied."
Marwyn stepped up beside them. "You'll have to house them."
"I will."
"You'll need firewood for a decade."
Cregan smirked. "Then I'll clear more forest."
Luwin approached next, his face shaded beneath a hood, gaze sharp as ever. "The copies are complete. Even the restricted tower beneath the astronomy dome."
"The hidden vault?" Cregan asked.
Luwin nodded. "Including the scroll they keep about the First Men."
Cregan blinked. "They wrote one?"
"They hid it well. But yes. It names the Pact… and says the North still walks with magic."
Benjen let out a slow breath. "You'll want that sealed."
"Not sealed," Cregan said. "Taught."
---
Message to the North
That night, before the moon broke high, Cregan took the runestone mirror from its carved case and pressed his hand to its cold surface. The reflection shimmered, then cleared to reveal Ned's face—tired but alert, a fire behind him, snow drifting at his window.
"You're early," Ned said.
"It's done," Cregan replied. "I'm sending scholars to Winterfell. Thirty-seven. Some are Northern-born. Others are outcasts. They'll bring knowledge, not politics."
Ned nodded. "They'll be fed. And guarded."
"And they'll want space. Find it."
"What about the Citadel?"
"I took everything they tried to hide. The rest they gave freely without realizing."
There was a pause. Then Ned asked, "Was it enough?"
"No," Cregan said. "But it's a beginning."
---
Market Streets
For two more days, Cregan stayed in Oldtown. He walked the greenmarket in disguise—hooded, quiet, Luwin and Benjen nearby. They purchased rare books, Southern metalwork, treated inks, and exotic resins to seal their Northern vaults. Cregan even inspected an ancient plow design from the Summer Isles, remarking it might work on the stony soils near the Rills.
He bought two ravens from the Hightower's breeders—both white-feathered and razor-eyed. "For urgent truths," he said, handing one to Benjen.
But everywhere they went, whispers followed.
The Stark boy.
The wolf from Winterfell.
He speaks in Old Tongue. And they say he hanged a maester and laughed.
Cregan didn't correct any of it.
---
Departure
On the morning of the third day, a runner arrived at the manse, breathless and pale.
"A Tyrell ship," he gasped. "Arriving in the harbor now. Lord Mace… and his household. They mean to meet with you, my lord."
Benjen unfolded the small, flower-pressed scroll that came with it. The words were friendly. The intent was not.
"They're trying to box you," Benjen said. "Press you into a greeting. Turn it into diplomacy."
Cregan didn't even glance at the parchment.
"Ready the Wolf's Wake," he said. "We leave before they dock."
Benjen smirked. "That'll cause a stir."
"I intend it to."
---
Final Orders
On the dock, Cregan took Luwin aside and placed his hand over one of the rune-sealed chests.
"These are for Winterfell. For the North."
"They'll be delivered without delay."
"You're their steward now," Cregan said. "These scholars look to you. Treat them with honesty, not indulgence. They're not your inferiors. They're your foundation."
Luwin bowed. "Yes, my lord."
"And tell Ned—when he sees the scroll about the First Men… he'll understand why I left so young."
Benjen stepped up as the lines were untied. "We'll be halfway to Starfall before the flowers step onto the dock."
"Good," Cregan said. "Let them find only silence behind me."
He stepped aboard.
---
The cliffs of Starfall rose pale and sheer above the Torrentine, catching the sunrise in a blush of violet. The Wolf's Wake moved slow through the river mouth, her sails slack with morning mist. Stone towers pierced the hills like pale fangs, and the ancient fortress atop them shimmered—graceful but stark, carved into the white face of the Dorne's western coast.
Cregan stood at the prow, Benjen behind him, and the three recruits watching in silence.
"This is Dorne?" Torrhen Umber asked under his breath. "Looks more like a temple than a castle."
"It's both," Myra Reed said quietly. "The Daynes were kings once, and priests before that."
Cregan said nothing. But his eyes were on the high tower. On the place his mother had once stood.
---
Lord Davos Dayne received them in the upper courtyard. He wore light armor over soft purple robes and bore no sigil but the pale star embroidered on his cloak. His hair was silvered at the edges, his face weather-lined, but his stance was still proud.
"Lord Stark," he said as Cregan dismounted.
"Lord Dayne," Cregan replied. "Or… uncle, if you permit it."
Davos's face softened. "You've your mother's cheek. But the look of a Stark, I've not seen you since you were a babe.
They clasped forearms.
Benjen dismounted next, nodding respectfully. "You've a fine river gate."
"You've fine manners—for a Northerner."
Behind them, the recruits disembarked and waited.
"You brought students?" Davos asked.
"Guardians," Cregan said. "Each trained in one discipline of war."
"Hm," Davos muttered. "Ashara always said the North needed fewer ravens and more wolves."
---
Starfall's halls were bright with morning stone, cool and open, built for heat and salt air. Tapestries lined the walls—celestial patterns, ancient river maps, and seven-pointed stars woven in faded lilac thread.
Allyria Dayne greeted them at the first stair. She wore a robe of pale blue, her silver-blond hair braided over one shoulder. She embraced Cregan gently.
"You favor your mother, but your voice is colder," she said. "Still. Welcome home."
Cregan hesitated. Then returned the embrace.
"I don't remember these halls."
"No, you were only a babe," she said. "But they remember you."
She smiled gently, then turned to Benjen. "I see you've brought a proper escort."
"Benjen Stark," he said, bowing. "At your service."
Her gaze lingered a moment longer than protocol allowed. "We shall see."
---
Later, Davos led Cregan and Benjen through the southern fields. Horses grazed along sloping meadows—sleek, swift-limbed, bred for the Dornish sands but tempered by rivergrass.
"She had a gift with them," Davos said. "Ashara."
"I know," Cregan said softly. "She taught me not to fear a mount's breath."
"We breed for speed and nerve. You said you'd offer Northern stallions?"
"Umbers and Karstarks," Cregan said. "Thick-coated. Resilient."
"We'll need trials. Let the bloodlines test themselves."
"You have three years," Cregan said. "Then I want fifty foals ready to learn snow."
---
Edric Dayne
They met the boy in the garden that evening. He was four years old, dark-haired with lavender eyes and a soft voice.
"This is Edric," Allyria said. "Your cousin."
Edric held out a toy sword- "Play with me?"
Cregan knelt. "Do you know who I am?"
"You're my other uncle. The scary one."
Benjen chuckled behind him.
Cregan took the flower. "And do you know the name of your family's sword?"
"Dawn."
"Do you want to carry it?"
Edric nodded fiercely.
"Then you must protect those who cannot lift swords themselves."
Edric's smile faded into a solemn nod.
"I will."
Now let's play, Cregan slowly started fighting with young Edric, fainting and clutching dramatically at a hit on his shin from his cousin. Quickly he sprang and chased after him, the laughter echoing around the halls of starfall for all to hear
---
That night, Davos invited Cregan to the high tower. They drank wine with the balcony doors open to the sea. A brazier cracked softly behind them. Benjen had gone to rest. The others kept to the barracks.
"She never said goodbye, I just woke to learn she killed herself" Cregan murmured.
"No, my sister wouldn't have done so, she loved you more than life itself. she wouldn't have abandoned you by choice" Davos said.
"She was alive when my father died. She could've come North. Could've raised me,we could have been happy there, safe
Davos drank. "That's all she ever wanted, to see you happy, safe, loved"
"Then why do the gods always seem to laugh at me? Why for the second life am I left an orphan?"
Davos head snapped to Cregan.
"Second Life?" he whispered fucikly
Cregan hiccuped the effects of the wine going to his head. "I promise uncle, I will explain it all before we leave starfall, thankyou for letting us stay and to reiforge family bonds"
They next morning they descended to the crypt beneath the Dayne chapel. There, on a pale altar, rested Dawn—milk-white, faintly glowing.
Cregan stopped short.
"It doesn't feel like steel."
"It isn't," Davos said. "We don't know what it is. Some say star-forged. Others say it was never forged at all."
Cregan looked to him. "And it's waiting?"
"For the one who earns it."
He stepped closer to the blade, then back. "You haven't tried?"
"I've watched men die trying before my brother claimed it. The sword didn't move, just seemed to drain the life of the man who was unworthy"
Cregan turned toward him. "Does it call to anyone now?"
Davos's silence was its own answer.
---
Back in the tower, "So, who are you? You spoke of a second life last night, I think I'd like to know who my sister gave birth too" Davos sighed.
Cregan took a breath and began explaining, his past life in a modern world of magic, how he was the child of a prophecy, and an orphan, a celebrity celebrated then vilanized. He fought in a war against voldermort to then be sacrificed by his mentor due to fear and greed.
Davos agreed to keep the secret.
"Thankyou, for understanding and not judging me" Cregan spoke softly. "
"Do you get any news regarding the Targaryen's in the North?" Davos asked.
"No, the Targaryens were not particularly liked before Arys actions never mind now" Cregans replied was instant.
"There have been whispers of Aegon being spirited away from the red keep. Being raised on the move constantly, his hair dyed blue"
"Hes a false dragon," Davos said. "We think."
"You're not sure? You don't find it convent that the only the male was saved and the babe who will have no memory and can be molded to fit a role?
"There's a man in Essos who claims to know, a cheesemonger who raised from a street urchin to one of the richest in the free cities" Davos replied
"Nobody becomes rich in those cities by becoming someone trustworth" Cregan Replied.
"Arthur went to find out."
Cregan blinked. "Arthur Dayne?"
Davos nodded slowly.
"My uncle saw him die."
"He saw him fall. Not die."
Cregan stared at the flames. "And you… sent him?"
"No. He came here to heal and recover after the tower of joy, when the rumours started he left. He swore he would find the truth, then vanish. If it's a lie, he'll return. If it's not…"
Davos trailed off.
"I don't serve dragons," Cregan said.
"Neither do we," Davos replied. "But we follow our own."
"And what of the Martels?" Cregan asked?
There was a long silence.
Then Cregan asked, "When did he leave?"
"Three years ago. A barge from the Arbor. He sent one letter."
"Can you contact him?" Cregan askedm
Davos nodded slowly, cregan took in a breath, asked for a moment and left the room. He quickly returned carrying a bag with some seemingly ordinary looking parchment.
"This is blood magic from my old world, the runes you see on the parchment offer the ability to see back 5 generations of the family. It requires a drop of blood of that personz, do you want to see?"
Davos Nodded.
Cregan pricked his thumb with the knife from his belt and the blood seemed to spread like roots of a tree across the page, it created a family tree spanning from himself, to Brandon and ashara, then there parents and there parents before hand spanning back nearly 250 years.
Cregan reached into his bag and placed another onto the desk.
"Send this to Uncle Arthur, if this boy is true then although he will get no support from the North he will get no opposition either from us either, for the love my mother had for Elia. The north does not judge a child on the crime of his parent, however he will not exepct us to bend to him. If he's false tell Arthur he's welcome to come to Winterfell, nobody will look for a supposedly dead targaryen kinguard in the North and he has a chance to help raise his friends son for true there."
With that decision made cregan walked back to his room, the weight of the day and revelations heavy. He slowly undressed and crawled into bed. Tomorrow he would prepare for his journey to King's Landing, he had recieved a summons when in Old Town and pushed off going until the last minute, he would not be summoned to come to heel like a dog to his master. The wolf would come and with it the North. He had already had Uncle Ned send him another 100 household guards who would meet him in kingslanding. Let the South remember for once.
---