"Come off it boy, the cut is a clean one and not even that deep." said the Surgeon "Would have hurt less if you took some Milk of the Poppy."

"No drugs." I countered through gritted teeth, my vision gaining black spots. The Surgeon nodded, as I had forced us to enter what was probably his home, late at night by presenting the Iron Coin of the Faceless Men.

Gotta love the superstitious Braavosi, the Surgeon took one look at the coin and decided to help me.

"The blade seems sharp... so it should not scar too much," commented the Surgeon we had found ourselves in. "It will still need stitches though."

"Are you good with stitches?" I asked instead, getting a glare from the man. "Wash your hands first," I commanded with an authority that was beyond my stature as a child.

"Do I look like Dothraki to you boy? Of course, I have washed my hands. That is not what you should worry about." countered the man, still inspecting the blackened veins over my forearm by poking them with a knife. "Not sure what the blackening is from... some sort of poison or..."

"Shadowbinder." I cursed, inspecting the cut with my wand under a new light. The black lines were there, and I could feel the malice like it was fresh. I had already taken over the spell before, so I knew what the effect was. The shadow-binding acted as an enchantment that held the concept of cutting. In the wound, it would remain as it was, unable to perpetuate more as I had somehow managed to balance the negative intent with my own will in the last moment. When I had taken over the Cutting Curse, I had managed to add my will into the soul bound to the shadow, allowing me to stop the cut from perpetuating. The fact that I had managed to do something like that without actually understanding what I was doing made me smirk with satisfaction.

It also explained how the owl had managed to counter the enchantment and 'absorb' the curse in my stead while the steel buckler was simply cut in two pieces. The soul of the owl must have stopped the spell that was aimed at me, eating the enchantment that the shadowbinding was meant to force on my own flesh.

Granted, from what I could understand, the enchantment now placed within my wound also prevented it from healing, so there was that to address. The problem was, I had no idea how to fix it, as I was not sure using another soul would actually work.

"It seems to be a curse meant to prevent the wound from healing," I stated, mostly to prevent the idiots in the room from stopping me. The question of whether it was the knight, the surgeon or the little girl in the room was up for debate.

"I am not a Warlock... I do not know how to fix that." countered the Surgeon, as I could feel his fear should I be displeased.

"I do," I said with a confidence that was mostly for the sake of others. Taking my belt, I bit down it, making sure that I would not break my teeth during what I was about to do.

Speed triumphed over efficiency in this case, so I made up my mind. Grabbing the bottle that was half drained by Ser Richard, I poured it over his hands, the needle and thread and finally my wound, wincing from the stinging.

The flame from the brazier was enough to provide a source of fire, as I took out my wand and pointed it at the fire. The flame leaped and set the alcohol and most of my arm on fire, though it would not burn me even then. I let the fire and blood merge together, creating my own shadow-smoke, potentially sacrificing a bit of my soul in the process.

It did not really matter if I was giving up my life force or bits of my soul. The other option would definitely kill me and I would not have time to figure out how to fix whatever I would be sacrificing. Giving away my soul sounded like a bad idea, to be honest, but I was not sure how long I would have left if I did nothing instead and the only way I knew to interact with shadows was with shadows themselves. The shadow-smoke had a tendency to merge together and give me a way to pull it out of my arm. The smoke rose from my arm, where the blood had dried off, before sinking into my skin, I felt the shadow become more... join in with the small amount left within the wound when the cursed spell the Alchemist threw in my direction.

I watched as the shadow rose from the wound before I casually flicked it at the fire of the brazier that was lighting the place, willing it to burn out.

I turned to look at the others in the room. The surgeon looked... green, while Ser Richard was somehow holding me, though I had not noticed when he had moved from where he was sitting.

The blonde girl was hiding behind the door, peeking out. The Surgeon had already checked her, but she seemed insistent on not taking anything for the pain, a feeling I could understand given what she had probably been through.

Why were my ears ringing again?

Why was my throat sore... as though I had been screaming.

I spat out the belt that was still between my teeth, my teeth mark having left a clear imprint on the leather.

"Water..." I croaked, uncertain of what had happened. "...and Ice," I added, recalling an old story I had read in my old life, about Aerea Targaryen and the worms she was infested in, worms that had died when exposed to an ice bath. Shadow-Smoke was close enough to Fire Magic as possible, so it stood to reason that ice would help with breaking the spell that remained.

The Surgeon looked at the wound with renewed interest, prodding it as though it was a dead animal and he was a three-year-old child.

"You see something new every day... the blackness seems gone." said the man, "That is probably a good thing."

I noted that the man was probably one of the actually smart people in this world... which was rare from what I had seen. "Do you have any silver knives?" I asked, getting a nod from the man. "Good... need to use that."

I did not really know what I was doing... that much, I could admit to myself. I was taking inspiration from Moqorro's surgery on Victarion Greyjoy. Silver probably worked for some reason that was still beyond my understanding.

I took the silver knife and held it to the fire, heating it up slightly. Placing the flat of the blade over the wound, I bit down on the belt once more.

Once the ice bath and silver treatments were both complete, I let the Surgeon tend to the cut.

"A poultice, made of stinging nettles, mustard seeds and bread mold.... in a base of honey." explained the Surgeon, seeing me sniff at the poultice he brought. I nodded. Nettles reduced swelling from what I had learned from the ramblings of Nessa, while mustard seeds were antiseptic when crushed just like honey was.

"Bread Mold?" I asked confused as the man spread the paste over the stitched-up wound. I knew how penicillin was made from said mold, but I was pretty sure the process had a long number of steps between just moldy bread and end results.

"Ah, yes... it is said to reduce chances of infections and puss. Even Maesters of Oldtown agree to its use." explained the man. "I will give you the instructions to make it, so you do not need to see me ever again. I do not need to be blamed for whatever Sorcery you lot were fighting to get such a wound."

Once the wound was bound, I inspected the bandages, unable to find anything wrong.

"I never got your name," I stated, trying to get some more information from the man, mostly because it was a good opportunity to learn but also to distract myself from the pain.

"Nor will you." countered the man, tying up the wrappings of my arm. "Valar Dohaeris, there, I served as best as I can," he said, bowing before me and turning around "Now, get out, I wish to never see you again." said the Surgeon.

"Good," I said with a smirk and a nod, getting the gist of the man's request while ignoring the glare Ser Richard was shooting the man. I got up, gathered my bag and dropped a bag of gold on the counter "I wish to never need you again either."

The door slammed onto our backs after that.

"Are we going to talk about the prophecy, your grace?" asked Ser Richard, probably questioning why I have been ignoring him since he mentioned the prophecy.

"No," I responded, turning around and walking away with the girl who seemed glued to my side. I stopped at a corner, checking to see if there were any patrols on the streets this late at night. "We should get to safety before we are seen... would you be willing to come with us?" I asked the girl, who nodded.

The walk back to the House with the Red Door was rather quiet. A pair of guards who may have noticed us had this weird, almost inexplicit feeling to turn around and walk away, but other than that, it was rather uneventful.

"I never asked you your name, did I?" I asked the blonde girl who shook her head. Now that we were in the safety of thick walls, I was more relaxed.

"Lanna." said the girl, looking away.

"Lanna..." I repeated, something in the back of my mind itched at that name. I knew I should not dismiss it, but this was not really the time for it, unfortunately. I could not be sure until we were in a more well-lit area. "How old are you, Lanna?" I asked, trying to act casual.

"Six" she whispered, causing me to nod. She did look slightly older than Dany but I was never good at telling how old a kid is.

While the name was a bit of a curiosity that triggered the memory of a theory, the age did not really fit with what I knew.

I reached with a hand and lifted her chin, getting a good look at her eyes, now that we were not in a badly lit basement of the operation room of a Surgeon, I could make out the coloring.

Two eyes stared at me, one was black in the low light of the street, while the other was green... flecked with gold that glittered in the light.

For now, she would be coming with us until we figure out where her mother was, given whom I suspected her father to be.

We entered through the red door and into the yard, where Ser Willem was waiting, sitting on a chair and clutching his cane. The Summer was still at its height, so the night was warm enough in Braavos for man to sit and relax.

"Nessa, this is Lanna." I said taking the cup of Willow Bark tea she handed to me, "Get her bathed, fed and find her a bed to rest in. We will figure out where her family is in the morning."

Once the girl left, Ser Willem started looking me over, noticing the bandages.

"How bad was it?" he asked Ser Richard.

"His Grace did well, though he could have done better." said my newest sworn sword.

"Not my fault the fucker refused to die." I countered, before snorting in amusement "People die when they are stabbed through the heart."

"Would it stop you?" asked Ser Willem, giving me a knowing look.

"I might figure out a way to survive it... but not completely." I said "Ser Richard severed his spine and he set himself on fire using Wildfire, so he is probably gone for good," I said, though a part of me still wondered if that assumption was true. If he could survive getting stabbed through the heart, an Alchemist with not so little talent... would he know a way around Wildfire?

"And the other problem..." said Ser Willem, the silence filling the entire room. "The girl looks like a Lannister." the old knight said, speaking out that one pesky detail that everyone was thinking.

Right... that was what was bothering me. The eye color was distinct enough without the hair color as well. There was only one Lannister with two distinct colored eyes but the timeline would not fit what I knew so it made no sense. "How old is the Imp of Casterly Rock?" I asked curiously.

"Eight and Ten... or Nine and Ten, I do not recall," answered Ser Willem.

That made me frown. In the books, Lanna was the daughter of the Sailor's Wife and she was fourteen at best. That would make her only one year old this year... which implied things I had no idea about. I had assumed that this world was the book universe, given the line of succession included Jaeherys the Second, I was certain that this was the book universe, but it seemed to be something different. That implied that what I knew from the potential multiple futures was not exactly what may happen in the future.

"A bastard?" asked Ser Richard, focusing on one of those pesky things that Westerosi would focus on.

"Trueborn, ironically," I said, sipping on my tea. "That does not matter, she is a girl... a child."

"That did not stop Tywin before," muttered Ser Richard, sipping what looked like a goblet of wine. I was not even sure where the man found the wine.

"I... am... not... Tywin!" I ground out through gritted teeth, as the candles seemed to have brightened up in the room, causing both knights to take a step back in caution. Ser Willem knew most of what I could do, or he at least suspected, as he had seen some of the after-effects. Ser Richard on the other hand mostly saw the after-effects of the duel I had with the Alchemist, and the fact that I could easily blow out the side of a wooden building with a wave of my wand... even though I was also surprised by that single feat which I was sure was beyond my capabilities for the moment.

"Your grace..." started Ser Willem, clearly tired.

"I know the story of the girl, Ser Willem, and it is not a pleasant one. She is a guest until I state otherwise, and that is an order from your king," I stated, unwilling to budge.

I was also willing to admit that there was also a part of me that just wanted to stick it to Tywin and thought that taking in his granddaughter as a servant would just do it for me. That and the theory that Tyrion was actually a son of Aerys made me stay my hand. If that was true then the girl was a dragonseed... which meant that she could ride a dragon. Gaining her loyalty and manipulating her using the truth would be a good way to ensure that if I ever needed a third dragon rider, I would have one that was only loyal to me.

"You have a kind heart, boy," said Ser Willem with a sigh. "It will get you killed one day."

`He can keep the babe... I will rip it out of you.` the words echoed from a time and place that would never be. "Better that than being cruel cunt," I countered, straightening up.

"Speaking of cunts, so... the Song of Ice and Fire, huh?" I asked, deflecting the conversation.

"What is the Song of Ice and Fire?" asked Ser Willem confused.

"Some prophecy that Rhaegar read about apparently... his reason to drive the entire Realm to war and us to exile" I stated, unsure about the true details. "If I am not mistaken, the same shit that caused my grandparents to forcefully wed my parents together and cause them years of misery so they can produce the supposed Prince that was Promised."

"You once told me that the Prophecies are best ignored lest you lose your sanity," countered Ser Willem.

"Wiser words I have not heard," cheered Ser Richard "I have known Rhaegar long enough to know that he did see something... a winter unlike any other and it consumed everything that he was. And more fool us. For we followed him to his doom."

"So, let me get this straight," I repeated, after having some time to process the story Ser Richard had told me. "Rhaegar dreamt of a Winter that Never Ends... he foresaw the coming of the Long Night?"

"Yes," said Ser Richard, his focus now on me, he seemed to look at me with pity "Have you seen it as well?"

"I know of it." I deflected, not really answering. I was not sure how much of my canon knowledge would work for this universe "Though I find no wisdom in following visions. If it comes true, it will always come true so no need to worry about it, if it is false, then it will be false and there is no need to worry about it either. The ones who work to avoid prophecy are ensnared by it and ones who seek it find it in the way they least expect it. Prophecy does not excuse Rhaegar's decision to run away with the daughter of a High Lord, the same High Lord whose family has been crying for the coming of Winter since the dawn of time and cause a rebellion that saw our family weakened and in exile." I went on, causing Richard to grimace.

"I did not say I agreed with his decision," countered Ser Richard, stepping back. I could tell that he was displeased, though whether it was mine or Rhaegar's actions was a toss-up. He still wore the amulet I had given him, making it near impossible to glimpse into his mind "Or that it was a good decision."

"And you followed him regardless," I shot back "Without a word of protest."

"As is the duty of any loyal squire," he responded "not that Prince Rhaegar could be convinced... I would not have stood a chance when Ser Arthur failed."

"Fair enough," I nodded. He was not wrong, as it was rather hard to restrain a Crown Prince without losing your head. "Is that why he meant to call a Grand Council at Harrenhall as well?" I asked, following a hunch.

"What Grand Council?" asked Ser Willem, which indicated that not many actually knew Rhaegar's plan.

"You really are smarter than you let on, your grace." smirked Ser Richard, his eyes however showed his sadness "Rhaegar meant to declare Aerys unfit, take over as Regent and Protector of the Realm, so he could prepare the realm for the coming war."

"Meant to? So, he called it off... for what reason?" asked Ser Willem

"Robert," I concluded, "He may have taken the Throne through Right of Conquest, but he held a minor claim through his grandmother."

The STAB Alliance, as it was called, was made up of Starks, Tullys, Arryns and Baratheons after their Lords became friends during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. I knew of the theories that it was meant to counter the influence of the decisions of the Throne, or possibly as a way to gain control of the Throne through the claim of House Baratheon. Some said it was a plot by the Maesters, some claimed it to be thought out by Jon Arryn. The fact that the person who gained the most by playing Kingmaker was Jon Arryn, later theory made more sense to me as the man had become the Hand of the King and ruled in the stead of Robert for all purposes.

"From Lady Lyanna, Rhaegar learned a plot to see Robert crowned," explained Ser Richard "All that was needed was someone to call a Grand Council."

"So, Rhaegar stopped and ran off with the lynchpin to the alliance against House Targaryen," I suggested.

"I do not know why Rhaegar did what he did. I was not with him at the time and I did not ride with him until he returned before Trident," said Ser Richard, upending his goblet of wine before continuing "He told me that he was doing all he did to protect the realm from the coming Winter."

"And you believe it to be the truth?" I asked, not sure what to do with this information.

"Rhaegar believed it, believed it enough to die for it," countered Ser Richard, placing his goblet down and leaving the room, possibly to get some rest. "Do with the knowledge what you will, your grace... but you are owed the truth of what happened... especially after what we saw tonight."

"What do you intend to do?" asked Ser Willem.

"What we were doing before," I stated having not changed my mind "just because there is a prophecy does not mean it is a good excuse to do things that are stupid."

I considered the idea... as I have been considering it for a while now. Most people who found themselves in my place would do something to strengthen the defense of Westeros. Granted, I did not have the resources of a Great Lord and I did not care much for people who in turn did not care for me, but would I be willing to let innocents die, just because their lords wanted me dead? I could always say `Others take them all` and that would become the truth in a few decades. The only thing that would end up becoming a problem for me in the future is when the dead from Westeros would rise as one and I would be facing a larger army in the end... if I survived that long.

I watched by the door, trying my best to not make a noise. My arms were bandaged where the healer had stitched the cuts closed. It would scar, but I would retain the full range of motion.

"Vis?" mumbled Dany "You okay?" she asked, mimicking my language in a way that always left other people confused.

"Yeah" I whispered, "Couldn't sleep, that's all."

Nightmares of what the children have been through mixed with the blue eyes of the enemy that I knew was coming.

"Do you want to sleep here?" she asked "You let me sleep with you when I had bad dreams."

"Yeah..." I said after a pause "yeah... I would like that."

As I settled next to her, she snuggled closer, allowing me to hold her.

"Night, little dragon" I whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"Night, big dragon" mumbled Dany in response, still sleepy.

The nightmares did not come after that.

AN:

So, I have to admit, I kinda wrote myself into a corner with the girl MC saved being Lanna who in turn may or may not be Tyrion's daughter. Did I do it for drama and internal conflict for Wizerys? Yes, yes I did, mostly the idea that Tywin's Granddaughter being a party member to Wizerys just tickles the right way, you know, especially how it may parallel Joanna and Aerys in the future. Does it fit the potential of book canon and all the theories in Reddit? Yes, yes it does. That being said, this is still 287AC and book-Lanna would be 1 year old. Before anyone comes up and guts the timeline I built, I am going to do it myself.

Tysha Event happens when Tyrion is thirteen in books and sixteen in the Show because even HBO has some lines. In the books, Tyrion is born in 273AC, but in the Show it is set to 265AC according to the wiki. That would make it ~286AC and ~281AC respectively when it comes to Tyrion's marriage to Tysha.

That being said, I disliked how the show played fast and loose with the ending parts for the sake of convenience. I prefer following the book canon for most events since the Show did all Magical elements dirty, but the idea that this universe is neither Book nor Show Universe will make Wizerys question accuracy of some of his knowledge of events.