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Since I'm obsessed with Robb 'Sexy Ass' Stark I decided for a WHAT IF. Sooo what if Robb survived the Red Wedding and was sorta a LORD STONEHEART!! I'm a bigger Robb/Daenerys fan so I MUST to add their ship in the story. Hope you like it...

Tyrion:

They all stared at him. Not in the way they did in King's Landing. Everyone knew who he was, he was Tyrion 'The Imp' Lannister. In Westeros, when you play the game the house name means everything. Now his name and head have a price on them. The people of Meereen just saw a little man walking around them.

They patted his head for goodluck. Tyrion wouldn't mind, but he grew tired of everyone in the city patting the top of his head. There was a sign of piece in the city after he made the deal with the masters. No fleets had bee set aflame again, and the Sons of the Harpy haven't killed.

"I call that a successful plan." He bragged to his bald perfumed scented companion next to him. "Would you?" Tyrion's eyes rolled at Varys. He saved a city, and he will make sure it doesn't fall to the ground before Daenerys returns.

"Look around. The city has come back to life." People were hurrying throught he street busy, they were at work and not hiding in their homes and not worrying of being killed. "You made a pact with finatics." Varys said unimpressed with the work Tyrion has done.

"I did and it worked." Tyrion joked with him on him being probably his dearest friend, and then adding more jokes to his childhood cut. Walking out of the market, they stopped at the docks to the ship. "I hope your right on this expedition of yours." Tyrion said. The master of whispers would be leaving for a journey which Tyrion wasn't able to know.

"If I don't return then I was wrong. We need friends in Westeros and we need ships." Where would he find friends for the queen? Most of Westeros doesn't know she's alive and others hate her and find her a threat. His family was one of those, but they might be dead so they wouldn't be a problem. Cersei preferably, all of Westeros would be at piece if one of Daenerys' delightful children would burn her to a crisp.

"Most of all we need a queen to use those ships." Tyrion replied sternly, many believed she would not return on the winged beast she left on. Some had sworn they saw her fall off the dragon and into Slaver's Bay, but she couldn't have. She couldn't he thought.

He went across the world to find a reason not to drink himself to death and her reign was it. "She has to come back, my heart has been broken too many times already." Varys said. His arm patted Tyrion on the shoulder to what was his heartfelt goodbye.

"I'll walk the rest of the way myself. I can't go on a seaboat mission accompanied by the most famous dwarf in the city." Varys began to walk further into the crowd and that's when Tyrion called his name. "Varys! The most famous dwarf in the world." He said. That put a smile on his bald friend as he walked away and he could no longer see his head in the crowd of Meereenese.

That may have been due to his stature, but he turned back on his way to the pyramid. Perhaps Grey Worm and Missandei would drink with him again. Their first drink together had gone not as Tyrion expected, they were not very good drinking companions, but they were the only ones who would agree to.

He needed a drink by this time, he had a smile to him when he thought of the taste of it. That smiled lowered when he was dragged into an alley. The blade was cold against his neck.

"I have money, I can pay you back." Tyrion said licking his lips hoping whoever was behind him spoke the common tongue. His heart beat faster he couldn't come up with the translation in Valyrian. He looked down to the ground and saw what was to be his killer had no shoes.

The beige rags he wore on him showed he wasn't a master, he had been freed by the queen. When he began to talk, he spoke fast and his accent was too thick. All he could understand was mhysa which was Daenerys and the word for masters. Varys was right, he made a deal with finatics and there would be tension with the newly freed citizens.

When the man spoke his voice had been muffled as if his mouth was covered by something. The puddles on the ground had a clear view of them. He wore a golden mask that he had seen in the fighting pits. There was relief when the sons of the harpy hadn't killed anyone in weeks, but now Tyrion would be their newest victim.

The harpy had more strength in him than Tyrion. The way he held him that he couldn't move his head or the knife would break his skin. When he could feel the metal move he knew he couldn't be saved. All he could think was Where is my brother. He felt the blader rise and blood dripped down to his forehead.

He opened his eyes to feel no pain of his throat being slit. Only the weight of someone fall towards him. Tyrion fell to his knees and so did the harpy. Blood gushed from his mask as he gasped and Tyrion's head was full of relief and confusion. He should be dead, but now his assassin lies where he may have been. He turned to see the shadow who had saved him.

For once Tyrion had no words to say, his eyes widened to the sight of him. You can't be real, you are supposed to be dead. Those were the only words he could comprehend, because he is dead. He read the note the raven sent in the small council room. He was the one to read the words aloud, the one Joffery had smiled joyfully to. You died at the twins.

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HEY PEOPLE!!! Hope you like the first chapter this new chapter will start an unlikely friendship. ALSO sorry if this is a lil short, but I've got more ideas for the next chapters... Hope you like this one! :)))

Tyrion:

He pulled the silk, veil of the mask off of the harpy's face to wipe the blood off of his sword. The last time Tyrion saw him, he had been a boy in Winterfell acting as Lord while his father was hand of the king. The lords of the north had named him king, and he was betrayed by his men.

Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brother got her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. He remembered the note from Walder Frey. They killed Robb and Catelyn Stark and their bodies were thrown into the river, but now the King in the North stood in front of him.

"Those fuckers tried that on me already." His voice was harsh, he dressed poorly. "Robb Stark? Last I heard you died at the Twins, and now your in Meereen." His face was stern and he was not the boy who he met in Winterfell with a direwolf at his side.

In fact, he didn't have the wolf at all. "Aye, he did die. I'm not a Stark, I lost that when I failed them. My mother, my brothers, my sisters, and my men. My sister... You married her!"
He lifted Tyrion against the wall by his neck. He had fury in his eyes, they were like a raging storm and he was the ship sinking.

"Tell me why I shouldn't snap your little dwarf neck for what you did to Sansa?!" Tyrion's hands looked like a child's when they tried to loosen Robb Stark's hands so he could speak.

"I didn't touch her! I didn't touch her!" He coughed and gasped when he dropped Tyrion on the ground.

"Explain yourself." He said sternly with his sword pointing at his neck. "Yes, they made me marry her. She's a child, you think I'm that sick to touch her? I helped that girl when Joffery had her beaten in the throne room."

The rage in his eye softened to the boy he first met. He slid down to the pavement next to Tyrion. "I told you a story now you can answer mine. How are you in Meereen? What happened at the Twins?" His sighed and rubbed his head.

"They threw the dead in the river. Some washed up on the grass, I was one of them. You ever heard of Thoros of Myr?"

Tyrion remembered Thoros he was one of the red priests like the ones who spoke highly of Daenerys was away. Thoros was sent to convert King Robert to the red god, but he ended up being Robert's best drinking companion.

He later became the founder of the brotherhood with Beric Dondarrion. " Well their red god is real and I was brought back."
Tyrion laughed at his joke, but the stares that came with him.

"You play with me Stark, you mean to tell me a drunken priest brought you back to life?" Robb rolled his eyes and pulled his tunic up. Tyrion was going to ask what the meaning of him stripping was but he saw the scars.

He pointed to the little stab wounds showing the crossbows. The one he couldn't stop to look at was the large scar across his chest, it was worse than Tyrion's face after the battle of Blackwater.

He tucked his tunic back where it was and began to walk away. Tyrion waddled after him, but his long legs were faster than Tyrion's short and stubby ones. "You forgot to answer my other question, why are you here?"

He sprinted faster away from him, but Tyrion still kept following. "I was in Volantis. I promised a... I promised someone I would go there. I was a paid sword for the windblown. When my contract was up I heard the storm crows were here and I needed the money so I am going to sign a contract with them, but they work for some queen now."

Tyrion finally got him to stop when he yelled, "I can pay you! You seem strong enough to be my personal sword." Tyrion smiled to the thought thinking he had a good idea until Robb laughed in his face.

"Why are you so important you need a guard, those harpies have been killing everyone." He was surprised he didn't know who was ruling the city, the three headed dragon banners had been all over the city.

"I am an advisor to Daenerys Targaryen Queen of Meereen, and I am trying to watch over her city while she is away." He had a look of surprise when he said the name.

"Where did she go?" He said. Tyrion had nothing to say, but he needed to cover for her wherever she is.

"She's away, but she's coming back and we can't have her city turn into nothing." He seemed unimpressed, but Tyrion sighed and pulled the bag of coins out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

"I like this arrangement." He sounded like Bronn, he acted like a sellsword. It was odd what a change he went through, it was hard to belive he was Ned Stark's heir.

They walked back to the pyramid, at least while Varys was gone he would have someone to talk to. "I think this shall work nicely. We'll need to pour some wine though."

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Hello little doves!! Hope you liked the last chapter, also I read your comments and advice and THANK YOU I will use what you guys have said. This is part 1 of the siege of Meereen and the my dearest daughter Daenerys returns... Here's chapter 3 please comment I would love to here your opinions! X

Robb:

"So do you two?... Can you?.. Nevermind." When Tyrion brought wine over, Robb gladly took it after hearing what he said. Missandei and Grey Worm stares weren't helpful to his regret for even trying to ask.

Robb remembered his manners as son of a noble family, but they dissolved over time. Lots of things did that to him, since he left Westeros.He regretted most things, well everything he does he wishes he could change. Robb was King of the North, he lost the north and his men he shouldn't act like a king.

Tyrion went on, and how we should all be happy the city didn't devour themselves. He was the one who did the talking most of the time. "I will be happy when our queen has returned." Missandei spoke quietly and Grey Worm agreed with her Tyrion was pouring himself a cup and held the jug of wine in the air, and Robb pulled the jug and sipped from it. It had a sweet and savory taste to it. "Why don't we all drink?" Tyrion said possessively pulling the jug from Robb's hands.

Grey Worm spoke about how unsullied never drink, Robb was surprised all those unsullied had never once had wine to dull their senses away. "Your old masters made those miserable rules, have a drink with us. My new guard Robb needs some stories or jokes to laugh at." In Robb's head, he truly wanted to fling that jabbering dwarf out the balcony over looking the city.
Tyrion poured Missandei a cup, but she rejected. "Now what's your excuse?" Tyrion asked assuming the girl wasn't an castrated slave soldier. "I have tried wine before, it made me feel funny." Robb chuckled at her words, she sounded so naive to wine he just had to tell her.

"My lady, that is how you know it's really working." He couldn't help but smile as he poured himself another cup. Missandei tasted the wine with a cringe in her eyes, like a child trying it for the first time. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but your accent it's Westerosi am I right? You are from our queen's home? You speak well, are you of a noble family?" Oh fuck me. Robb nodded staring down into his drink. Before she could ask anything about him, Tyrion spoke for him, "Robb here is a bastard of the North. He was the son of a cook in a lord's castle. He was caught with the lord's daughter, and was sent away. He told me his whole story on the way." Missandei and Grey Worm nodded to his story. He was a Snow, he remembered how much Jon hated that name and now Robb had changed his.

He missed Jon, he still remembered the last they saw each other, but Robb saw Jon when he didn't even know. He sees things after Thoros brought him back, some from the past and some from when he was hundreds of leagues away. Every time he sleeps, he is a wolf. Robb could taste the blood on his snout. The words echoed off of him he wanted to hold his head til it stopped. "For the watch. For the watch. For the watch." He could feel the cold winds blow through his ears, but the words wouldn't stop coming. The sound of metal scraping. When the words stopped, he saw Jon surrounded by snow and blood. He heard another wolf in the distance, howling with grief. He heard his brother gasp and he heard his last breath turn into a whisp of air.

"Hears to our queen, anyone not drinking is disrespecting our queen." Tyrion said breaking the silence in the room and having everyone drink their wine. Grey Worm had a disgusted look when he drank it. Tyrion explained to him about the taste and how he wants his own vineyard and make his own wine. Robb burst out laughing when he heard the name of it. The Imp's Delight. "You laugh now, but you won't be when only my close friends will be able to drink it." He said with a smile on his scarred face.

"Here's a joke for you three if none of you will say one. Three lords walk into a tavern. A Stark, Martell, and a Lannister. They each order an ale. What they don't know is there is a fly in each of their drinks. The Lannister pushes it aside and demands a new drink. The Martell plucks the fly out and swallows it whole. The Stark reaches into the cup, pulls out the fly and shouts, 'Spit it out you wee shit, spit it out!" No one smiles. "These Starks and Lannisters, they are enemies. Why do they drink together?" Robb grinned to Grey Worm's voice, he was starting to like that eunuch. "He does have a point Tyrion, why would they drink together?" Robb says trying to mock Tyrion and his idea to make Robb laugh.

Missandei's attempts of jokes were interesting, at least she was trying. She had a smile on her face until Grey Worm said it was the worst joke he ever heard. Apparently that was his joke, most of them including had laughed at mostly anything by now. Robb noticed a raise of Grey Worm's lips which may have been a smile appeared on him just looking at Missandei. Although Robb regretted his question before, he knew he was right.

The way he smiled at her, Robb thought of Oxcross and severed legs. He missed her, he should have left her in Riverrun that should have never happened to her. It hurt saying her name, thinking of her, and remembering Talisa. He was stupid, Walder Frey wouldn't forgive that easily. My king is married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift. Robb should have known, he should have done something. Instead he just froze; his mother, his wife, his child. His child. It angered him thinking of any of it, he poured more wine and listened to Tyrion talk on.

"There once was a honey comb and a jackass-" The bells began to ring, Grey Worm jumped out of his chair and Robb clutched his sword at his side. Walking out to the balcony, Robb's sword wasn't the only thing they would need. The bells were ringing and they echoed off the buildings, and the smell of smoke was in the air. It was the city, being bombarded by the hundreds of ships in the bay. Missandei was the only one to speak, "The masters have come for their property."

Everywhere they walked the ground shook. Hundreds of ships filled the water and hundreds of catapults launched into Meereen. There weren't enough men to protect the city, so they waited in the great pyramid.

"I was wrong I admit that." Tyrion stated pacing in the room. "That doesn't help anything right now." Missandei spoke harsh, but true she was right Robb thought. She was a former slave, she knew they would come back for their slaves. Robb was not aware of Tyrion's plans to give the masters seven years to find out a new way of payment.

"You promised slavers seven more years, and give them nothing. What could go wrong?" Robb said watching the smoke rise from the streets. "I know and I regret that, but we should do something than joke and do nothing."

"The unsullied could lead defense on the beaches-" Grey Worm stopped him, and he spoke more words than he did since he met him. "No more talking from you. Your talking caused this." Grey Worm sternly said to Tyrion as if he was a child. Robb would have laughed, but the screams coming from everywhere stopped him.

Tyrion and Grey Worm bickered over what they should do. Tyrion wanted to defend the city, but there was barely enough to keep the pyramid from being attacked. "Grey Worm is right, eight thousand unsullied aren't going to save this city from all those ships. Protect the pyramid and gut the rats out from within." Robb walked out pulling his sword out. The fucking screams. His head was pounding, he wanted to smash it against the walls. He kept hearing the song again and again. A coat of red, a coat of gold. A lion still has claws.

The ceilings were thumping and he could here the drums again. Robb heard his mother's voice scream for him when the crossbows shot through the room. He heard Talisa's screams, when they blade reached her stomach. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees, and the fucking boats were still shooting at the pyramid. Robb finally opened his eyes, to see the walls of the pyramid.

He wasn't at the twins, he wasn't. Robb rose to his feet and he had a hunger for blood. He felt like Grey Wind when his wolf joined him in his battles. Harpies ran through the halls, blades in their arms killing anything with a heartbeat. The blood splattered on Robb's face, when he opened ones neck. He found a group of unsullied in a circle and outnumbered. Robb wasn't swinging fast enough, and more unsullied fell to the ground. There were three of them including Robb and a dozen harpies staring at them.

They were surrounded, and there was no red priest to bring him back again. There was a rumbling all around, the pyramid was starting to fall apart he thought. The noise became louder and louder. The boulders from the catapults had crashed through the walls, and Robb fell to the ground and his head felt a thump and all went black.

He woke to the smell of smoke. Robb's head was pounding and a harpies crushed under the boulders had a trail of blood coming from their masks. He stood and held onto the walls to keep his balance.

Robb made it back to the solar to find Tyrion and Missandei still with fewer unsullied. Tyrion finally stop pacing to notice Robb and his eyes widened. "What in seven hells did you do?" Robb pulled the jug of wine off the table and drank it happily. "Someone needs to fix that wall out there." Tyrion had a confused look and was about to ask, but he just shook his head and start pacing.

There was a strange noise coming from the ceiling. It wasn't a boulder, and it was bigger than a person by the weight of it. Grey Worm gathered unsullied to check the balcony, they walked so quietly Robb couldn't even hear footsteps. They held their shields and spears pointing outside, all was quiet until Robb heard the steel fall to the ground. The unsullied dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. Out of the darkness came a girl, shorter than Robb with silver hair. She had riding leathers like he had worn in Westeros. Robb was in awe of what was behind her. The dragon was dark as the night, it screamed fire into the night.

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Howdy ya'll!!!! I've got some new ideas for this story, and you'll see them soon. This chapter will be part 2 of the siege AND my dear Robb and Daenerys finally meet. Sorry guys there won't be any sexy time for them two YET you know since they just met and all ugh I wish though. BUT here's the new chapter for now. X

Robb:

Robb stood behind Tyrion as the masters arrived. You could cut the tension in half, Grey Worm's cold eyes still staring into the masters eyes. The beady eyed one from Yunkai examined them all but he gave a deadly stare to the Targaryen girl. Or Queen Daenerys as Tyrion calls her.

"Once before I offered you peace. If you had not been so arrogant, you could have left and returned your homeland on a fleet of ships. Instead, you'll flee Slaver's Bay on foot. Like the beggar Queen you are." The Yunkish said in his silken robes like the cowardly cunt he was.

"We are here to discuss surrender, not to trade insults." Tyrion said sternly staring at each of the masters. The attack on Meereen brought Robb back old memories.

This was the silver haired girl's home, and traitors came to take it and kill all those in it. He thought of Theon, who he was once his brother but only a coward in disguise. Theon took Winterfell, killed his brothers, and burned his home. He did not deserve no kind of mercy, he deserved all the pain Bran and Rickon felt.

"The terms are simple. You and your foreign friends will leave the city of Meereen. The unsullied you stole from Astapor will remain to be sold again. The translator you also stole from Astapor will remain and be sold again as well. The dragons will remain to be slaughtered." The ragged one spoke for all three of them. He was nothing, probably a trained bitch to the silk dressed ones he stood next too.

"You are mistaken. We are here to discuss your surrender, not mine." The Queen said. Tyrion may have been right, she did have more balls than most of them on the cliffs. Although it may not be that hard, since most of them were unsullied and Grey Worm of course.

They chuckled at her, she made her demands and she meant it. "It must be hard adjusting to the reality. Your reign is over!" The Yunkish said, thinking he was brave. He had no fighting skills, just money to buy swords.

Robb caught sight of what may have been a smile on her face when the queen said to them, "My reign has just begun." Suddenly the cries of a dragon were heard. It was the black one again, he flew above them all, over the pyramids, and sat on the pavements right next to them all.

The beast's brushed his head against her skin, as if it was a child with his mother. Robb could feel the heat brushing off of the dragon. It laid it's wing down for her as she climbed onto it. He roared one last time before flying towards the ships, with her on his back.

The masters hovered away from the dragon as it flew off. Tyrion told them one must die, they hovered and offered the one in rags speaking for them. Grey Worm pulled his knife and his blade sliced through the two masters who had given up the other one.

The last one fell to the ground like a scared child. "I advise you to tell your people what you saw, and to not do this again." Tyrion patted him on the shoulder and scurried fast down to the pyramids.

Before leaving, Robb had a delightful thought in his mind. He pulled the last master up by his neck. With one hand on his neck and the other pointing to Grey Worm, "See that one right there, he has more balls than you ever had. If you don't listen to the dwarf, Grey Worm will find you and cut what is left of your balls." Robb dropped him to the ground and bowed to Grey Worm and Missandei with a smile on his face and followed Tyrion.

Tyrion was sprinting to the pyramids, following the dragon. "Where are we going?" Robb yelled from behind trying to do his best by catchin up with a dragon. "We need to go to catacombs." Tyrion said almost tripping down the pavement steps. Robb offered to carry Tyrion the rest, but all he got for an answer was a frown on Tyrion's face.

The ground was vibrating, Robb heard horrible screaches coming from the catacombs. "What is down there that you need so badly." Robb asked here the roars became louder. Tyrion called unsullied to open the gates. The metal began to creak as it opened. The screams stopped, then suddenly the noise came closer, and closer, and closer. All he saw were four eyes staring at him "Move!" Robb roared pulling Tyrion away from the gates right before they broke open.

What once kept the catacombs closed broke in two, and out came two more dragons. Gold and cream was once that's wings stretched out so far and Robb could feel the heat of the green one. "Three fucking dragons?" Robb yelled at Tyrion as he sat completely still. Tyrion stood up into both dragons eyes and he still had a head.

The black one returned soaring over all of them, with the silver haired girl still on his back. Both dragons roared at the sight of her, as if a mother returning to their children. They flew to her and all three dragons headed towards the bay.

 Robb and Tyrion watched as the ships was swallowed by the dragon fire. "So you just wanted to surprise me with the dragons." Robb said to Tyrion. "They're her children. I was surprised as well when I saw one for the first time." First a Targaryen queen, now dragons returning.

"How is she going to react when she finds out who I am?" Tyrion sighed with a puzzled look on his face. "We will have to start slowly. When she asks you are still a bastard of the north, that accent of yours is too thick to hide. I'll think more later." By the way Tyrion spoke of her, Robb hoped the dragon queen would be mercy when she would find out his name, and hopefully not being drowned in dragonfire.

The queen called Tyrion to the what was the Meereen version of a throne room. It was all made of all stone, and had no iron chairs. Robb walked behind Tyrion as they entered to see the queen and her council.

She sat on the stone bench above the many stairs made of stone. "Who is this, Tyrion?" Tyrion bowed and turned to Robb, "Before you returned there was an incident, Robb here saved me." Robb bowed his head with a stern face staring into her vibrant purple eyes.

"I have unsullied guarding the streets, surely you can use them for protection. You don't need a sellsword you're probably paying to watch you." Robb's eyebrow raised at her, she assumes he was a sellsword. She was right of course, but he thought to be better looking than a common mercenary. The dark haired one on the opposite side of Grey Worm had to have been one, and he was smitten with her by the looks he gave her.

"Forgive me your Grace, but I must tell you the truth." Fuck me. He thought to himself. His heart beat faster when he realized Tyrion was going to tell the truth right now. "Since Varys is gone, he sent one of his servants to keep me aware of what is going on before we leave for Westeros. Robb here is one of the master of whispers' little birds."

His head turned to Tyrion, wanting to know an explanation for Robb being a little bird. Robb tried to keep a straight face, it was very hard not to trip his short companion next time he would walk.

Queen Daenerys turned to him with a deep look to him and spoke deep, "Your name." She said not a question, a demand. Whoever raised her, they raised her to rule someday. "Robb Snow." He cringed slightly not being used to his last name.

"Where are you from, Robb Snow?" He thought of all the houses he knew and all the loyal men who fought for him, and he remembered when he was first named King. "The North, Last Hearth, House Umber." Smalljon was in the Riverlands, Robb never knew what happened to the Greatjon. He remembered him being drunk by the end of the night, he couldn't have fought well enough.

"You are from the North, how do you feel about the usurper Eddard Stark?" She was testing him, Robb held back his words and clenched his fists before he did something stupid. Tyrion had a worried face, but Robb knew the right words to say, "I never knew him, don't know how he was a usurper though." She had a puzzled look, they still stood at eachother. Queen or no, Robb wouldn't let her insult his father.

"You don't know how he and Tywin Lannister sacked the city and killed my niece and nephew, you were a babe I'm guessing?" Robb looked at her and he saw a girl who didn't know what she was talking about.

He stepped forward and he was ready to speak, "Forgive me your Grace, but if your going to take the seven kingdoms you should know the real history, not some story your wetnurse told you. Tywin took the city, Lord Stark arrived after your niece and nephews deaths." He said too much, he was a bastard not a lord of a castle to be taught by a maester. She was cross, their first meet wasn't as Robb planned.

They all stared at him, questioning how he would know all of that. "I like to read, is that a problem?" He said defensively hoping she wouldn't ask him more. Robb finally looked at his feet and saw how close he was. He had walked up the stairs during their disagreement, he was inches away, she still sat on her bench only Robb's head tilted down to look at her.

He walked down the steps back to Tyrion's side, and she spoke again. "Tyrion said you were a spy to Varys. Do you have any news?" She changed the subject entirely. Robb didn't know what to say. Tyrion had a worried look on him, but Robb decided he would say everything. "The North is destroyed. The Riverlands are in ruin. A boy of incest is ruling the seven kingdoms. All of Westeros is being ruled by traitorous cunts, and more will die once dragons burn cities to the ground. Forgive me your Grace, but that is the truth." They were all silent and staring at him.

"You were honest. If I'm going to rule the seven kingdoms I can't have everyone hiding it the truth from me. Keep him as your guard if you like Tyrion, don't go far I'll need to know more soon." She lifted her skirts and walked towards the door as Missandei and her sellsword followed.

"Well that was unexpected." Tyrion said walking up to him patting him on the back. "She's very... bold." Robb didn't know the word to her, but irritating was one of them. "Ha. That's one word to describe her, she'll be a good ruler I know it."

"You just had to defend your father did you?" Tyrion said stressed and rubbing his head from Robb speaking about Robert's Rebellion. She was wrong, and someone had to tell her. "The last time that happened with my father, being accused of lies the entire north rose against your family. We don't like lies, Lannister." Robb said remembering who Tyrion was.

Robb began to walk away, when Tyrion joined him. "I think it's time for a celebritory drink." Tyrion thought of any reason to drink, and Robb had no problem with it. "What would we be celebrating?" Robb said. "Why you meeting our Queen of course, I'm thinking Arbor Gold." Robb chuckled at his ideas to drink.

"You remind me of a younger me. First the smart wits to the queen, now you drink. Such a shame you aren't as beautiful though." Tyrion said. "Yes, but what I have is strength, like the strength to throw you into Slaver's Bay." Robb said. "Fine. Fine. Let's just have our drinks then."

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NEW CHAPTER TIME!! Hope you liked the last chapter, this new one will involve a not so welcome reunion with two characters... Just want to say again THANK YOU for all views and comments. PLEASE comment what you think of the story, I love to hear other people's opinions and what I should do next. Hope you like the new chapter... X

Robb:

Robb woke up with wine on his clothes, and broken glass on the floor. He was on the sofa in Tyrion's solar. His head was pounding, and there was a sleeping dwarf curled up like a kitten at his feet.

He didn't remember much, most nights Robb and Tyrion would drink and drink until they were too tired to swallow anymore wine. His feet were numb and Robb pushed Tyrion off and he landed on ground.

The drunken dwarf acted as if he did not fall on his head, he yawned and stretch his arms as if waking up on the ground was normal. "Well good morning to you." Tyrion said pouring himself another cup. Robb couldn't stand the smell of it, everything hurt.

"Drinking helps the aches. So innocent, ahh your like me when I started this. I was twelve, thirteen..? Ahh those were the dark ages." That explained a lot to why he was completely fine. "Sleep it off, not in my room of course. There's a chance you'll get sick, and my vomit is the only kind I will have in my room."

Robb walked off to find his room, he heard the sound of Missandei and the queen passing by. He bowed down clumsily, holding the wall for support. The queen of Meereen had a look of disgust on his face, Robb rolled his eyes at her judgement.

She was rather annoying with her questions, but he respected her still. She knew what she wanted and she wasn't going to let anyone belittle her. "Drinking with Tyrion?" She said with a smirk on her face. "Sadly, yes." She smiled slightly at his words, she may have been irritating, but she had a certain beauty to her.

Robb stumbled to his room, he was quite happy. It was small, he had a soft bed, and small windows to hide the sun. Robb collapsed into his bed. The small glimpes of the sun laid across it, leaving it a warm feeling to it. His eyes became lower and lower until he slept into the dreams of a wolf.

Robb had woken and his aches had lower, Tyrion was right drink would help and he was parched from his short wolf dreams. All he remembered was they were in the Riverlands. He hunted with the moon shining bright above him. He heard the sound of wolves, he ran faster and faster to them.

He lost the howls, and he was thirsty. He reached the Trident, he felt the cold water touch his tongue and saw his reflection in the water. Robb was no wolf, he was a direwolf. Grey Wind in fact. His dreams must have been when he was still at war. Memories

When he rose his head from the water, he heard the sound of the pack again. He was leaping over tree trunks, the cold grass on his paws, following the sound. Robb saw in Grey Wind's eyes, the pack.

The largest one and the leader was a she wolf. He noticed her size, almost the same as Grey Wind's. Another direwolf. When he walked around the pack, she jumped down from her rock she sat on above all wolves and her ears went down and she growled.

It last short before she rose and circled him smelling his scent. She nuzzled against his side, as if being reunited. Lady was killed, it had to have been Arya's. His skinny, little sister named her wolf after some warrior Queen, but he couldn't remember. He woke to wanting some wine.

The halls were empty, he heard no sign of Tyrion. He walked to the throne room, he took the back door to enter quietly. He wouldn't want to disturb a meeting, he was just a guard to them.

He slid through silently, Tyrion nodded to him while they waited for the next person to come in. Robb rubbed his eyes, he was still tired from his sleep. Two came in, they wore armor and smell of sea salt. Two men stood before the queen.

Robb look closer and saw his mistake, it was a manly women and a man looking down like a fidgety rat. "Your names?" The Queen said watching them. The fidgety one raised his head, and that's when he saw his face.

"Yara of house Greyjoy, and my brother Theon Grey-" Robb rushed to him, when the bastard saw him his eyes widened. Robb was hungry for vengeance and blood. Before the woman finished. Robb ran to him and punched him hard he fell to the ground. "Fucking traitor! Murdered little boys!" Robb said as he punched over and over.

He didn't fight back, he tried covering his head as Robb hit him more. Rickon was six, Bran couldn't even walk. "COWARD!" He roarded and tried pulling his sword out, but the sellsword Daario tried to pull him back.

"Who the fuck are you?" The manly woman yelled. Daario lost his grip on Robb's arms and he was free from his hold. He couldn't reach his sword, so he used his feet. He kicked until his foot began to throb.

At that point, Grey Worm had brought unsullied so hold him down. Theon groaned on the ground, he wanted to kill him. "Who the fuck are you?!" The muscular woman bellowed at him. He wouldn't answer.

The Queen had risen from her bench when the first punch was thrown. "Answer the question!" She commanded. Tyrion sighed with a stressful look. Robb was done with his fake names and stories, she wanted the truth he'd gladly say it all. "Robb Stark. Son of Eddard the usurper Stark. King in the North and the Trident, Lord of Winterfell. And brother to those little boys this traitorous cunt killed!"

The room was silent. "Your brothers aren't dead you dumb fuck. Theon get up and tell him." She pulled him to his feet as he curled up in a balll groaning. "They escaped. Those.. were two fffffarmboys." He stuttered bleedly and shaking.

His heart dropped to his stomach. His brothers might be alive. He didn't know how Bran could even leave his room let alone Winterfell. He looked at Theon and saw a beaten dog, not from Robb he was a coward and scarred. He once thought of him as a brother, but he betrayed him he was nothing more than a rat.

"Grey Worm take him to my solar, I will talk to you two later." The Queen said sternly Grey Worm pulled his arm and walked him out of the room. "You will go as well Tyrion."

Grey Worm waited in the room with them, he stared deeply at Robb. There was wine in the Queen's solar. He reached for it, but Grey Worm eyebrows deepened at his attempt and Robb gave up.

"Leave us Grey Worm, it's ok." She said sincere to the commander of the unsullied. When he left the room, she gave an angry glare to both of them. "You lied to me, and bring the son of the man who took my family's throne. And you, don't answer back." She meant that last part for Robb, because he was going to say something before she spoke.

"You said he was dead. You lied again, how can I trust you if you lie every step of my way to taking Westeros?" She said to Tyrion. "You are right, I did make up his story. But I did not lie about Robb's.. Status. He managed to be brought back somehow." She stood and stared back at Robb in disbelief. Tyrion used hand jesters, he was slapping his chest and pulling up his shirt when Daenerys wasn't looking.

Robb finally put them together. He thought this to be a regular thing now, he pulled his shirt up and showed her the scars. Her eyes widened at the sight, Robb wasn't surprised by that reaction.

"Why did you come here? Who sent you?" It was Robb's turn for questions. "You wanted honesty so here it is. I was dead, my men, my mother, my... my pregnant wife, were slaughtered. I was the one who was brought back. The Greyjoys burned my home I had no where to go. I west east to Volantis. Tyrion was not lying, I was a sellsword. No one sent me here to kill you, frankly all of Westeros thinks your a girl with no dragons."

None of them spoke. She had sadness in her eyes, he shouldn't have mentioned Talisa he didn't want to be a grieving widow. The whole time she spoke to them she paced, after Robb spoke she finally sat down.

"You said you were King in the North?" He nodded quietly, he didn't deserve the title anymore. "How many of your loyal men are still alive in the North." He didn't even know the answer to the question. "I don't know. I was told the Freys kept the higher lords captives. Others I ordered them to the Riverlands, but they could be dead by now."

She paced again and her hands clutched each other and did a weird dance with her fingers. "You may disagree on my judgement towards your father, but I do know your mother was a Tully, that would make you the heir to the North and the Riverlands?"

Robb's heart beat faster, he never realized that might be true. He did not know the fate of his uncles, and his siblings are missing or possibly dead. "I won't kill you. You're name and blood will help me bring Westeros to my side." She was smart, maybe she would rule Westeros.

"Swear your allegiance to me, when I take Westeros you will remove your title as King in the North. You are still a Stark your men will only have you rule the north. You may be my Warden of The North. But if you betray me, the only the choice you will have if being burned to death by dragons or be thrown into Slaver's Bay piece by piece."

Her face was stone cold, she was going to be a just ruler. Robb went on one knee and said the words, "Obey me or die, you are quite the deal maker. Alright, alright, my sword is yours, the north will not betray you."

Robb was being honest, he broke too many vows before. The last time he broke one he was killed. He lost the King in the North title when the first crossbow struck. He would now be Lord Stark, even before his father was accused of treason he never imagine being a lord.

"We need to discuss with Yara Greyjoy now Tyrion, make sure we still have that alliance she offered." She said turning her head to Robb. She was right, and he does not regretting hearing the sound when his fists smashed into Theon's face.

When Tyrion began to walk out, she stopped. "I thought you should know before the Greyjoy woman told you. Your sister, Sansa is alive. She is at the wall with your half brother. The man you beat escorted her to the wall." All he heard was Jon and Sansa were alive.

He didn't know what to say or do. Robb could just smile, he held daenery by the shoulders and asking her over and over if she was sure. He started laughing hysterically, Robb had no control over himself.

He lifted the queen by her hips and twirled her tiny self around in excitement for a second. He put her down quickly and her reaction was not pleased. "Never do that again. I don't care what your name is I have three dragons remember that."

He still had a dumb smile on him, he felt like he was still a boy in Winterfell. He bowed and said, "I apologize your Grace, I just haven't heard anything good like that in a very long time. She nodded with a smirk on her, probably thinking of him as a dumb boy he felt like one.

When he left the room, he was still smiling. "Your happy for someone who was threatened to be killed moments ago." He didn't here anything he just nodded and walking away. Westeros would soon know the Starks are alive and the Young Wolf lives.

Chapter Text

Hello it's me... With a new chapter!!! Sorry for the wait, I had a few drafts of this chapter and wasn't sure which one to post. I chose this one because it was longer. AND I added more than one POV to show you guys what's going on in Westeros. This is longer than usual because I read your comments about longer chapters, and hopefully you like it! :) New chapters on the way as you read.. X

Robb:

He was in the Riverlands, Robb ran alongside the pack with the Trident at their side. They ran and ran, howling to the moon, until he was all alone. A flash of light blazed around him, he heard the sound of metal clashing against the trees.

People came running through, and Robb began to run. Faster and faster, but he couldn't hear the howls anymore. He stopped and stood in darkness, only the moon shining down on him.

His nose inhaled the putrid scent of burning wood and ale in the air. They metal chains snapped his paw into them in seconds. He howled when he felt the pain brush through him.

Men came, Robb could hear their laughter and bickering. "In all the gods of fire and fuck, what do we have hear?" One said laughing, he tried to pet him, Robb's jaw snapped at his arm but the man pulled away too fast.

"Kill it and get over with." Another said, drinking his pouch of ale. Robb growled at them, his teeth gritting against them. His paw was still chain and he couldn't defend himself.

The third one chuckled in the corner at all of them. "You plan on killing that? A direwolf. The beast could rip out your throats if it was freed from that." They all rolled their eyes at them and poked him with a stick.

"How the fuck would you know what a direwolf looks like, your just a bastard from Seaguard." The drunken one spoke mumbling his words.

"I was a soldier for the Mallisters, and the Starks. Robb stark's direwolf killed more men than anyone at the battle. Look at the size, he's fucking huge." Robb's ears tilted when he heard them speak of him.

More footsteps were heard, and robb growled hearing more men. "You fucking idiots were sent to get my nephew, your lord. Now you're playing in the woods with a fire burning the Night's Watch could see?!" The old man hissed at them, Robb's eyes softened at the sound of him.

"Apologies, m'lord we made camp. These two shitheads were arguing about a bloody wolf." Blackfish circled around Robb, gazing at him. He stumbled upon the trap cutting at the circulation of his paw and pulled at it.

His hand brushed against his fur, he ordered the drunken soldiers, "Cut him loose, we need to get back to Riverrun. The Freys will spot this forest fire from their camp. Bring the direwolf." The soldiers jaws dropped at his request.

"My lord, it's a wild beast. It will kill us all." The drunk plead. Blackfish sighed and Robb's great-uncle pushed the man against the tree and scolded him like a child. "Do you think I'm an idiot? My nephew had a direwolf. I remember the beast clear as day. I imagined it'd be wild, but Grey Wind was always loyal to Robb." He let go of him.

His uncle was a slight smile to his face. He brushed his hand to Robb's side, Robb shuddered at the touch, it burned. "He's a survivor this one, crossbow by the look of it. Release him now."

He was confused, it didn't make sense. He couldn't have been Grey Wind if Blackfish is talking about the Twins. Robb didn't understand anything.

Men grunted as they pulled at his leg. His back paw throbbed as they pulled on the trap and broke the rusted metal. "Come along now, we're going need you soon." Blackfish said waving his hand along to Robb.
He didn't remember Edmure being taken, he had to have been if he was in Grey Wind. Blackfish must have hidden it from Robb to keep him from worrying. He limped his leg to him when his eyes began to shake, and he saw black.

He woke to the sight of Daario shaking him bloody to wake up with a cocky smile. Behind his miserable face, Robb was wishing he barred the door to his room. "Our queen wants a word with you." He said.

Robb's head throbbed, he didn't want to hear her go on about her claim to Westeros. "Tell the queen if she needs me, have her come. Not her mistress." Robb said with a grin across his face.

It was obvious he had been bedding her. His looks toward Daenerys, and when Robb walked with Tyrion through the pyramid, they would see the tyroshi sellsword leaving her chambers quite early.

Daario pulled him by his tunic and pushed his blade against his neck. "Dead king of some grey fucking country, you don't need balls. Your father lost his head, you want to keep the family tradition going?" Robb had fury deep inside him, he pushed his arms off of him.

He spread his arms out, "Go ahead, kill me. Like you said I'm already dead, try it I dare you." Robb hissed at daario, he laughed with madness in his voice. He truly meant it, if he were to die he'd see his father that he never got to free from Joffrey. Robb would see his mother, Talisa, his men he lost in battle. Truly, death gave Robb no sorrow, only hope.

The sellsword had a puzzled look on him and put his sword back into the sheath. "And they say Targaryens are the mad ones." He said to Robb as he threw clothes at him.
Robb had a cup of wine of the window sill, he had not finished before. He pulled the cup to him, and before he could taste the sweet Dornish red it was knocked out of his hand by the sellsword. He truly loathed the sellsword after that.

Daario still had that fucking smile on his face, "Sorry about that, but orders are orders." All that wine lying on the ground, Robb thought of drinking it from there than to waste it. That was until he remembered that it was wine, and there is more of it.

When Robb changed into his clothes, Daario, Unsullied, and Tyrion waited outside for him. "Why did this sorry lot pull me from my bed? What does the mother of dragons want now?" Robb said to Tyrion who walked with him to the queen's solar.

"I'm not quite sure, but she does want her advisors there." He said with a slight smile. He scuffed at Robb being an advisor, most times they spoke the two of them just argued.
"The queen's whore over here, won't let me drink." He complained while mocking Daario at the same time. He had an irritated look on him, and that brought Robb joy.

"That I was aware of, the Queen's orders. I can't help you there, my friend." Tyrion said patting him on the back. Robb didn't care who she was, he couldn't just stop him from drinking what he wanted.

When they walked into her room, Daenerys, Missandei, and Grey Worm stood waiting for them. Daario bowed down to her, which caused robb to roll his eyes. He just bowed his head, and stood quietly.

She stood in the center of a table, leaning over a map of westeros. She had carved figures out the houses who ruled the seven kingdoms. "You learned my name and now your planning to take westeros. Seven hells you're an ambitious woman." Robb said making her turn her head to hide her smile.

He quite enjoyed the look of jealousy on Daario, as if the sellsword could only make her smile. Robb could be charming when he wanted to be. A jug of wine sat at the end of the table, and his mouth watered. He pulled it to him, when Grey Worm pulled it away from him.

"Why does that keep happening?" Robb asked being annoyed as Tyrion poured himself a cup. She glared at him like a scolding mother. "I ordered it. I have a task for you, and I can't have a drunk completing it."
Robb was not a drunk, and who cared if he was one.

"I'm not a drunk, and why do you think i'll do this task of yours?" He said. She rolled her eyes at him thinking he was delusional. "You are a drunk, it would make sense not to be one due to your status. You're name is too valuable and before I sail for Westeros I will need allies, allies that you will get me in the North and the Riverlands."

His eye widened, jokes aside she was ambitious. "How do you plan to do that? The Boltons have the North and the Freys took the Riverlands." She turned to Tyrion, waiting for his answer, "Varys' spies still remain in Meereen with their stories. Your uncle is in several of them. Apparently dear uncle Blackfish has retaken Riverrun with many of your bannermen."

Robb's heart beat faster, it wasn't about his uncle because he had already known that. He dreamt of it, as Grey Wind. His head couldn't compell what he was seeing. The Freys put Grey Wind in the stables, he imagined his loyal friend was doomed.

"You, Daario, and the Second Sons will go to your uncle and his men. That is how you will get me allies." His eyes widened at the thought of going home. Robb looked down to the map and saw the Greyjoy kraken figure.

"They're coming as well?" He said pointing to the figure standing atop the map. Robb wouldn't be pleased knowing he'd be going to his home the Greyjoys raided and pillaged the whole North.

"No, but the Greyjoys have given you ships to take you there." Tyrion replied pouring him more wine that Robb stared at enviously. "How many ships?" Robb said to the Greyjoy woman unappreciative.

"One. The Seabitch. It can fit your men, and the name fits you well." She said with a smug grin on her face. They both had a look of disgust at each other, no one spoke until Tyrion decided to break the tension.

"We suffered a bit of a block, do you know where the ship will dock once you reach Westeros. You know the Riverlands better than anyone here, your thoughts?" Of all their plans they needed Robb to fulfill them.

Robb pressed his hands on the old map, it's edges were ripped and dusted still floated on it. It wasn't hard to tell it hadn't been used enough in Meereen. He stared down at the figures, the smudged writing, he had not done this in years.

If he closed his eyes, Robb would imagine his tent with the harsh Northern air blowing through. The only enemies he was fighting were the Lannisters, when Robb only had to fight on the battlefield.

He thought the Greatjon and Maege Mormont were at his side, now Robb stood by a drunken Lannister dwarf and a Targaryen Queen. Robb slid his hand across the Narrow Sea and landed into the creases of the map, on the Riverlands.

"The Bay of Crabs, that's the way through. It opens from the Narrow Sea, Saltpans has a port off of it. It's in ruins now, no one there to see two thousand soldiers coming through. The rest of the way is on the River Road." Robb said staring down at the little painting of Riverrun.

"You know your task, pack your things you both leave at sunset." Daenerys said briefly to Daario and Robb. Seconds later, Tyrion and Robb were the only ones left in the room.

"I suppose this is a goodbye for now. All my friends keep leaving me." He said with a sarcasm embedded in his words. Tyrion poured himself a cup, with a look of pity to Robb.

"I'd pour you one, but can't say no to our Queen now can we." He said sliding water to him across the table. It was cold and plain, Robb didn't enjoy the taste as he did before.

"Next time I see you, she might be sitting on the Iron Throne." Robb said to Tyrion. It was a long way back to Westeros, and it would be a while til he saw them again.

"Yes well, let's hope the Seabitch lasts the voyage. I can hear it's creaks from my window." Tyrion said talking about the one ship the Greyjoy woman offered. "If it's from a Greyjoy something must be wrong with it." Robb muttered.

Tyrion looked down at his wine, being the most quiet he had been since they met. "The healers talk about Theon, he had many scars on him. He screamed and panicked when they tried to undress and check for more injuries. Bits and pieces cut when he was a "guest" to the Boltons they say."

Robb didn't care if he was tortured, Theon deserved no mercy. Daenerys had barred him from even going near the room, he would have finished him off if they let him. He didn't kill Bran and Rickon, that made up for nothing.

Theon was raised in Winterfell, he knew those who lived there. Robb thought of him as a brother. He remembered Old Nan's stories as children, training with Ser Rodrik, and lessons from Maester Luwin. Where was that Theon when he decided to betray Robb, take his home, and kill those in it.

"I want to speak to him before I leave." Robb said sternly. Tyrion eyes widened and he spit up his wine, thinking that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

"No. I remember your greeting, and there will not be a goodbye. Unsullied guard the chambers from the last time you saw him." Robb rolled his eyes and stood up. He pulled each and every blade from his grasp and threw them on the table.

Robb stared at the dwarf from across the table until Tyrion looked into his wine. He still stared until Tyrion slammed his cup down. "Stop that. You're making me uncomfortable. My sister does that and I do not enjoy it." The dwarf said sternly.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, rose from his seat, and groaned, "I'm going to be in the room, and don't plan on being stupid." He said marching out of the room.

Unsullied stood at the doors, not a step out of place. Tyrion tried to walk under them inside, but they put their spears in front of him. "Move aside please, we have urgent buisness with Lord Greyjoy." Tyrion said beginning to walk forward.

The eunuch soldiers blocked his way, and pushed him back. "We have orders from our Queen to speak to him and you are stopping us. I would be gladly to bring her Grace to you." Tyrion was desperate by the sound of his voice.

Surprisingly they let them pass. The soldiers who didn't feared death, feared the wrath of a short, silver haired girl. That was probably from three fire breathing dragons that could eat any of them whole.
The room smell of blood, Robb smiled slightly to the thought knowing he caused it. He quickly had a serious look on him when Tyrion glared at him for smiling.

Theon laid on a bed in the center of the room, his face was swollen and bruised. Robb had a cringe of delight. "I'm going back to Westeros. I'm taking back my home, trying to bring it back to before you and your Ironborn scum took it."

Robb circled around Theon who could barely move, and only groan in pain. When he heard Robb's voice he began to breath crazily, choking on the air. He walked closer towards Theon so he could hear Robb's words clearly, "I don't care if you didn't kill Bran and Rickon, I'd still break your weak, little neck right here."

Tyrion heard his words and walked up to them, pulling Robb farther from Theon. "I would kill you, but after seeing what Bolton's bastard did to you... I would be ending your suffering." Tears streamed down Theon's face, he was weak.

"It wouldn't even be much, killing you. I want to kill Theon Greyjoy, but it looks to me he's already dead." All Robb saw was a weak creature, who wasn't even a man. He cried and mumbled trying to speak, but Robb was already walking out the doors.

Robb clenched his fists, fury building up thinking about everything his former friend had done. Tyrion finally caught up with him, out of breath. "We may be friends, but Seven Hells did Roose Bolton rip out your heart when he killed you?"

"You didn't kill him, that was good. Also I'd collect your things soon, sunset will be hear fast." Tyrion said pointing towards the sky painted in a dim gold, with the sun sinking deeper and deeper into Slaver's Bay.

He was once a lord, now all he had was in one sack. Robb was raised in a castle, son of highborn parents. Now he had a few blood stained shirts, two pairs of pants, and an old, grey breastplate with a direwolf on it.

He walked through a foreign city with sweltering heat and dust that always seemed to stay on him. Now he was going home. Robb's head was blank, he didn't know what to think of his return.

Men died because of him, the massacre at the Twins will be remembered when Robb is gone. He didn't know who was alive and where they were. His uncle had survived, he remembered what happened. Would he forgive Robb, or would he disown him. Uncle Brynden always had a temper, but he was loyal and he was a man loyal to family.

Sansa was safe, that he knew of. She had Jon with her, he was better at a sword than anyone. Robb never found Arya, he wanted so badly to free them. Now he just wanted her to be alive. Bran and Rickon, no one had seen them in years. Rickon was six, he clung to Robb's leg and cried when their mother left. Bran couldn't even walk, his way of moving was being carried by Hodor.

He felt his memories of his family were only seconds, but somehow he ended up at the docks. The docks were usually empty with burnt remains of the Targaryen fleet from the Sons of the Harpy. The smell of sea salt was in the air, the dock was packed with ships wearing the kraken banner. The Greyjoys brought the entire fleet to the Queen, a bribe for an alliance probably.

Daenerys waited for him with no one to guard her. She usually had a swarm of Grey suited soldiers with her. "Come to say goodbye? Or have you come to admit you're madly in love with me?" Robb smiled to the annoyance in her eyes.

"I'm making sure you know what your task is." She walked with him the rest of the way towards the Seabitch. Daenerys was very precise on what Robb is to do when he reaches Westeros. "You've told me everything from when to breath, but I can't promise anything."

Her eyebrows raised at Robb's honesty, the North won't bow to a queen they never knew. "You swore you would, I don't like broken promises."

Robb didn't speak, he wasn't in the mood to argue with her. He hadn't been allowed to drink since Daenerys ordered him to stay sober, thinking he was like King Robert. He missed the taste of it, all the flavors he never got to drink before he agreed to this.

The wood rocked back and forth from the water. The Seabitch wasn't a sight for sore eyes. You could hear the wood creaking every step someone made. The Second Sons had unpleasant look when they walked onto the ship.

It was small, but the Seabitch fit all of them. Ironborn crew on the ship watched them all board. They gave their looks, but they all obeyed Yara Greyjoy's orders. They kept their mouths closed, there wasn't enough of them to start trouble.

Daario spoke quietly to Daenerys, he stroke her arm as he said his goodbyes. He was in love with her by the look on the sellsword's face. She was a beauty, Robb had to admit. Surely many more people love her, but it doesn't mean she'd love him back.

"Don't be stupid and die, I would hate to drink alone. I'd hate it, but I would still do it." Tyrion walked up to him before he boarded. Tyrion looked down to his armor sticking out of his bag.

"I haven't seen Stark armor, since my trip to Winterfell. It's a good sight to see." He assured Robb. He couldn't remember the last time he wore armor. Robb forgot the feeling of the metal pushing against his chest, he would feel it soon he imagined.

"I figured they all think House Stark is gone, they need to see it." He never thought he'd be friends with a Lannister. Robb never thought it would be Tyrion Lannister. When they met in Winterfell, he didn't stop Grey Wind when he went after him.

"Farewell Stark."

"And you Lannister." He said with a smile before turning towards the ship.

Robb stood looking at all the faces and the people who walked amongst him. He thought of the long voyage back, and the vomit is soon to come with one of them. Ropes were pulled off and the rocking of the boat began.

Daario came last after his talk with Daenerys. "If I die fighting for your Grey wasteland of a home, bring me back so I can kick your ass." The sellsword said walking towards him. Robb felt kind and decided to laugh in his face.

"If you die, I'll be getting drunk to celebrate." Robb thought of the day he wouldn't hear his voice again would be pleasing. He didn't hate Daario, he was more irritated by him. Robb didn't know him enough, except his cocky personality.

In the corner of his eye, Robb saw the sellsword watching Daenerys and Tyrion walk back. Robb laughed at his looks towards the Queen. "You've gone soft. You love her don't you?" He knew it, because he gave looks like that before, when he met her in Oxcross.

Daario had an annoyed look from Robb. "Fuck off." He was embarrassed and wanted to change the subject. Robb rolled his eyes, it didn't matter. From what Robb saw, she didn't love him back.

Meereen started getting smaller and smaller as the began to move, until there was nothing but ocean. Robb was left with a pouch of water, while the rest of them got drunk on wine and sang songs on deck. He sat on his bed looking up at the ceiling, thinking of the days til they reached shore.

Robb stretched his arms to the floor and pulled his bag to his grasp. He pulled his old, dull armor from the bottom of his sack and put it on his stomach. He looked at the dried blood, and the direwolf painted on fading away.

He rub his palms to the metal. Robb circled his fists harder until the direwolf started to shine again. His hands turned raw red when he stopped. The singing had stopped, snoring began to rise from below. Robb blew out the candle beside him, looking up into the dark. Waiting.

It was an early morning, Robb opened his eyes to the boat thumping. He looked out the window of his tiny room and saw docks. Birds flying in the air, he looked farther on and saw not a soul.

He pulled his clothes on quickly and rushed onto the deck. The water rocked them back and forth, everyone in a hustle to finally get off the boat. Over the weeks they stayed on this floating hell, Robb found out he hated the sea.

Daario looked around them sharpening his sword looking around at the new place Robb called home. "Westeros is a shit hole so far, no wonder you left." Robb shook off the sellsword's words, not in the mood to take away their happiness from leaving the Seabitch.

No wonder the Greyjoy's offered it to us, it was a death trap from hell. Robb thought to himself. The Greyjoy woman was what he could call civil, to them from what he remembers. Two thousand sellswords, were pushed into one ship, sleeping on top of each other and falling in others vomit.

When they tied onto the broken dock, Robb jumped onto the docks to standing straight. The rocking finally stopped. He felt the cold crisp of the Riverlands, he smiled to the thought of no more blazing sun that made him sweat.

The wind hit Robb harder and colder, winter was finally coming down south. His father always said it, but he never imagined it. Robb couldn't even remember the last winter, but he would sure remember this one.

As soon as all of them were off the boat, The Seabitch sailed off back to the rest of the Ironborn, probably off to raid like the scum they are. The Second Sons looked around at their new surroundings, they expected more from the looks they shared.

Robb knew Saltpans was in ruins, but he never actually saw it. Not a soul living near by, houses were turned to Ash, and smoke was in the air. Stone castles collapsed into a pile of rubble, it was a grey wasteland.

The Second Sons turned to Robb, none of them knew the land, or where to go. He was the only one. "Where do we go now?" Daario turned to Robb looking at their surroundings like a strange new world.

"We head east, to Riverrun." He yelled to them. They had no horses, they would walk the distance. All of them moved their feet left and right, the rest of their food on their backs, and cloaks they never thought to wear. They'll soon feel the winds of winter, and the Second Sons will fight for those coats soon enough.

Blackfish:

The last of the dragons died a century ago, what Brynden would have done with one of those beasts to the scum that was below him. "Come out and face us Blackfish! We have Lord Edmure, yield the castle or we'll hang him!"

From his counting, it was the third maybe fourth time they threatened with that. All those fucking Freys stood across from him, in those pathetic caps on their head. Were the hats meant for battle? Or were they to make Brynden piss himself, which was not working.

The Freys made a sully of what they call a seige. Robb would have done better at a seige, he thought. Brynden finally saw what could have been a real army at the gates in crimson cloaks. The golden lion sigil flew, Walder Frey too weak to take a castle from them himself.

"This is your last warning! Yield the castle!" Fifth times a charm they were probably thinking with that line, he thought. Brynden wasn't going to surrender to a couple of inbred little pricks. Finally when the boys returned from the cellars, he had a response to show them.

"It has blood on it and was ripped a little, but we have one M'Lord." The young, summer boy who could have pissed grass said to him smiling. Why was he smiling? Is this supposed to be fun? We're all here because of death and war.

They tied the banner to the pole, right next to the Tully trout. The direwolf banner was a sight Brynden hadn't seen in months, maybe more. That said more than words to the Freys, who had nothing more to say to them.

Black Walder he spotted rose to the steps with his nephew, and pulled a knife to his throat. "You think I won't do it old man? I sliced your niece's throat ear to ear, and where were you? Running and hiding like a fucking coward! Yield the castle, or I cut his throat!"

Brynden clenched his fists, he was born and raised in Riverrun. He wouldn't yield it to murderers and traitors. Edmure was the only thing the Frey had against any of them, they wouldn't kill him so soon.

"Go on then, cut his throat." He spat at them and his nephew still had a throat. The Lannisters had at least ten thousand swords, possibly more. Riverrun has the draw bridge, no one will break through as long as they keep it up.

They had almost a thousand men in the castle, that was including the servants and boys who never held a sword. Food could last them a year, two years if they ration it out. If they were to fight, they would need more bannermen to join the fight.

Brynden was a second born son, he shouldn't be in charge of this. He probably shouldn't be here if he hadn't jumped into the trident the night at the Twins. Black Walder was right, he ran and hid. He should have been there for them, Cat, Robb, Talisa, the bloody girl was pregnant. He swam back to Riverrun while thousands died.

"We can't get him back now, the fucking Lannisters brought an army. No one will be getting Edmure out without being noticed." Edmure may had been an idiot, Brynden may not have enjoyed his presence, but he was family.

His house words were 'Family, Duty, Honor' Edmure was family, he wouldn't let him die at the hands of a traitor like Frey. Brynden wasn't going to surrender his home to anyone, he didn't care about his honor. It was his duty to keep Riverrun intact. If Brynden was to die, he would want to die fighting for it.

Sansa:

She wasn't taught this, any of it. Sansa had lessons with singing, sewing, and being a proper lady. She loved it, but she was a weak, stupid little girl who knew nothing but stories. Men looked as if she was a girl who didn't belong marching to Winterfell with her brother. Sansa wanted to laugh in their faces, they didn't meet a fate that involved Ramsay Snow.

They didn't have enough, Jon doesn't know Ramsay he doesn't know what kind of monster he is. Sansa does, she remembers it every night when she closes her eyes to sleep. Their had over two thousand men, but Ramsay had more.

Most of the houses were too scared of the Bolton's wrath if they did join them. Lady Mormont gave them sixty two men, at least she gave any Sansa thought. She was torn, Littlefinger had the Vale he could help their cause.

Lord Baelish would want something in return, but Sansa would not ablige to any of them. They couldn't head to Winterfell with barely an army with them, but the snow would take them before they even spotted their home.

"It's not enough we need more men. Uncle Brynden has a thousand men, if we wait for Brienne and march to the Manderlys, the Cerwyns-" Jon stopped her from finishing. He doesn't know Ramsay. Ramsay is always one step ahead. She thought to herself.

"If Blackfish does agree, they won't come in time. We don't know who will side with the Boltons. We march with the army we have." Jon wouldn't understand, he wasn't marching to Winterfell. He was marching to his death.

"You'll march to your deaths. All the things we've worked for will disappear. We will die. Rickon will die, and I will be sent back to Ramsay. We need more men Jon." She shuddered and held her face stern, he needed to listen to her.

His eyes softened at her words, Sansa looked into his Grey eyes and she thought of her father. That only brought her sadness, thinking of her mother and Robb. I must be brave and strong like Robb was. Sansa thought to herself, she remembered saying that over and over when she was in King's Landing.

"Castle Cerwyn is the closest, did Ramsay mention their loyalty to them?" He was considering it. Sansa remembered dinner with the Boltons, their stories of what they did to those who would defy them.
"Ramsay skinned Lord and Lady Cerwyn and made their son watch. He won't be running to their aid. Lord Manderly's son fought with Robb, he died at the Twins. He could help us too." Sansa knew one more house won't be big enough to fight the Boltons.

House Manderly is an efficient size, it may be close enough to help she thought. "We sent a raven to White Harbor, if the Manderlys wanted to join us we would have heard from now. We can't go farther south, we'd miss Winterfell."

At least they're going to more houses, she thought. Now Sansa just hoped Brienne would send a raven soon. Her uncle Brynden was family, he couldn't ignore her plea. Family, Duty, Honor. He couldn't ignore a family's call for her. He can't, he just can't.

SmallJon:

He imagined the bastard would be smarter, but their agreement worked fine. He enjoyed the presents Jon gave to him. The fish took the bait, he thought. Now the plan was almost fulfullied. He and his men were loyal, but no one knew which house.

His father has been a captive for quite some time, Jon was in the Riverlands when he heard the news about the Twins. He should have been there, we went as friends not foes he thought. The Freys turned on them, his King, his Queen, his friends, they were slaughtered.

The North remembers, they remember the sons who would never return home. Wives who waited at their windows, for their husbands who would never come to greet them at the door. Little children in their villages who cheered on the soldiers marching to war, would see no one coming back only bandits to raid their unprotected houses.

The wolf was hard, having to find a wolf big enough to look like a direwolf and bring it's head to Winterfell. The real one, that black beast was wild. Wild and loyal, they lost two men trying to get it into the cage when we took it from his master.

It howled at night, Jon kept men at camp in the Wolfswood. They made sure it ate the carcass, and was still alive. They're going to need the wolf soon, they'll be no battle if Jon and his men take back the castle. Jon found his liege Lord. They say there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, he was going to make sure of that.

After dining with the Bolton's bastard, he called in early. Three of his best men came with him to find the boy. He was kept in the dungeons in one piece, but probably not for long. Guards knew of their "alliance" with the Boltons, and no one batted an eye when they visited the little Lord in his cell.

He sat in the corner of a cold damp cell. He was a Stark of Winterfell, in wildling rags. Jon would have taken him and his companion captive if he hadn't seen the direwolf with them. Jon pulled out the bag of foods from the kitchen, they probably hadn't fed him. He had to be kept alive.

"They're probably not feeding you very well. Go on now." He was a stubborn beast, probably thinking of him as a traitor. What the boy didn't know was Jon may be his only protector here. He placed the food next to him, the little Stark threw it against the stone walls.

He threw himself at Jon thinking his small self could knock down SmallJon Umber. The boy was screaming trying to fight him, Jon covered his mouth before guards came over. "Stop fighting you little shit! Listen to me."

Jon groaned when the boy bit down on his fingers. He shook him bloody until he finally calmed down. "Listen to me! This will be over soon my Lord. Our loyalty is to the Starks, we're taking back your home." He looked like Lady Catelyn Jon thought, his eyes softened.

Screams pulsed through the hall, his men collapsed and he heard the sadistic laugh again. "This is turning into a lovely evening boys. Your loyalty never waivers! How honorable of you, but I really don't like surprises.." He felt the blade pressed against him, and the pale eyes of the bastard staring at him.

Chapter Text

Hello my lovelys!! IM BACK, with another chapter. Sorry for the wait, I would have written sooner, but I was sick in bed for a while. ALL HEALED NOW THOUGH :) This chapter will involve some old friends who haven't been seen in a while... PLUS some characters from the book arrive... After the last chapter, I kept getting big and crazy ideas for the new ones. Comment and tell me what you think... X

Robb:

They were tired, all of them were. The River Road was the only way to Riverrun, someone was sure to see an army marching through. Most nights they slept outside, people would notice them if they didn't.
"There were villages nearby, we could have taken it, for our Queen!" One yelled. They acted as sellswords, that was who they were. The men were off fighting for whichever house they thought would be good for their families.

"It was women, children, and old people. You would have raided and pillaged like savages? That's not why we're here." Robb wouldn't have them harming innocents, he would make sure of it. They were changing the task, the cold made them irritated.

"Why are we here? To fight for some family who we don't know and never gave a shit about any of us. To die beside strangers, we're all fucked either way." They wouldn't listen to Robb, they didn't know him. She shouldn't have sent the Second Sons, Robb thought.

"We're here for our Queen. The Second Sons always complete our contracts, that is why we are here." Daario said to them. He was helping Robb. It may have been to stay on Daenerys' good side, but it helped him.

They groaned, but stopped complaining. "Some ale would help them, all we do is walk. The dwarf gave you gold, use it." Daario had a point, a drink or two would let off some steam. Tyrion gave him five pouch fulls of Lannister gold, no one would say no to that.

Robb recognized where they were, an inn had to be near. His head finally stopped pounding like a war hammer, he senses lost it's memory for ale. It would be a nice welcome since he's been sleeping on the cold, hard, ground.

Torches were going to be noticed, so they walked in the dark. Two thousand men walked in pitch black until a glimmer of light was seen. Robb looked around and heard the water racing down the ford.
Robb's mother had taken Tyrion hostage at the Inn at the Crossroads. He chuckled to the thought of his new friend once being a captive.

A large, woman greeted them at the sight of the inn. "That's close enough. We don't see many armies coming through. Who do you fight for?" She held tightly to something behind her back. Probably something sharp, he thought.

"We work for the Second Sons, come to offer our services to rich, houses. We just want some warm food and wine." He said politely. The woman had a mole that moved every time she frowned.
Robb handed her a bag of gold, and her eyes widened at the sight. She bit down on the coin and smiled hapily where her missing teeth should be. "We have no beds, we have food and drink. Hot Pie, get our new friends some of your kidney pie!"

A fat boy waddled over with plates and plates of pie that had a savory taste, Robb couldn't get enough of. He hadn't had ale in years he thought. It was a strong taste, no one seemed to notice him drinking it they were all too happy to notice.

They all clashed cups together, Robb and Daario moved their annoyance aside. They were all trying to merily eat their hot meals.

"Could I get you anything else?" The heavy boy walked over to them filling their cups. "You've done enough, the kidney pie is better than anything I've tasted in years." Robb assured him.

The boy smiled, and sat amongst them. Robb's eyebrows rose. "I do my best. Good kidney pie is all about the ingredients." He went on and on about kidney pie and Daario turned to him, probably blaming Robb for being kind to him.

He pointed to Robb's breastplate, "Your armor is all scratched up, were you in any battles Ser?" Ser, the boy thought he was a knight. Robb may have prayed to the old and the new, but he never wanted to be anointed.

"I've fought in some, but I'm no knight." He said hoping the boy wouldn't ask more questions. Robb drank the rest of his ale before Daario noticed he wasn't drinking water.
"Oh, it's just people with armor are usually knights. Generally speaking, in King's Landing they are. From there myself originally. Flea Bottom born and bred. What brings you here?" Was this boy simple minded, Robb thought.

"Riverrun." The boy may bow to Lannisters, Flea Bottom he said. He prayed to all the Gods in the known world for him to stop talking, but he went on.

"If you don't know your way there, I could show you the way. I had a friend wanting to go there. Which house do you fight for? The lion or the bridge banners?" Robb doubted this boy's friend wanted to go to Riverrun.

"Neither." Robb's body was tense from laying on the ground at night, he stretched his arms and the silver direwolf was open for everyone to see. The boy dropped the pitcher of ale on the ground seeing his sigil.

"That's a direwolf, like that lot from Winterhell?" The boy stood quickly, sweating like a pig, and sprinted away. Robb and Daario both shared the same look, the boy was hiding something.

Robb rose to his feet following the boy. "What do you know about the Starks?" The boy had panic in his voice.

"All I know is the hand was a traitor, got his head chopped off I heard." Robb clenched his fists hearing the fat boy's words. He was lying still, the boy knew something.

"You're a bad liar, you should be honest more. My name is Robb, my parents were Eddard and Catelyn. My siblings are Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon... Stark." He felt stupid say that, Robb didn't know the boy or who he was.

The boy had fear in his eyes, and sweat dripping down his forehead. "You sure I can't get you anymore of that kidney pie?" He walked back inside, he knew something. Something Robb had to find out.

"He would have spoken if you pressed a knife to where ever his neck is hiding." Daario offered a sharp knife he kept at his side, Robb pushed it aside. He wasn't going to hurt a boy.

Robb sat by the fire warming up as the wind hit them harder each night. It would be days before they reached Riverrun. If they left early they could cut some time off their travel. There was still a feeling in him wondering what the boy knew.

The sky was full of warm pink clouds, the sun was peaking through them with a bright golden horizon. Men were cursing at Robb for wanting to leave so soon. Robb didn't care, the long the sat around the longer is was to Riverrun.

"The siege will be over by the time we get there, let's move our asses." Robb yelled to the sorry lot of sellswords looking to him. Most of them would probably never come back to Westeros, after realizing the long and freezing winters.

The sun had risen above the clouds, it was the only warm thing around them since the fires had gone out. It wasn't as cold as Winterfell, but Robb hadn't been used to the cold in years. In his ears, he heard the panting of a boy running.

"Ser, I mean M'lord, wh what ever you are." The boys arms fell to his knees sweating from a few steps away. He held a piece of bread in his hand in the shape of a demented square he thought.

"My friend, who wanted to go to Riverrun. She was like you, a Stark, Arya." Robb felt his heart dropped to the ground, but he couldn't trust his words. His sister hadn't been scene in years, they could be frauds.
"Arya hasn't been seen since my father's execution. How do I know you're telling the truth?" Robb's heart beat slowly, he couldn't get excited over false stories.

"Yoren, he was taking us to Castle Black. He was bringing Arry.. Arya to Winterfell, she cut off her hair, said she was a boy named Arry. She had a little sword with her, skinny and small. The Lannisters took us prisoner on the way, to Harrenhal. We escaped Harrenhal, then the Brotherhood took us. They found out who she was and were going to sell her to her mother, well your mother. Thoros and Beric sold me here to the Inn Keeper before they got to Riverrun."

Robb only focused on the sword, Arya's sword. Jon showed it to him, before he had given it to her. She kept it at her side, clung to it. He smiled to the thought of his skinny armed little sister, always sparing with him during Ser Rodrik's practice.

"The Brotherhood without Banners, You're certain? Do you remember where they stay, where they sleep?" Robb was shaking him waiting for an answer. He felt the madness in his voice and the boy's eyes widening in fear.

When Robb awoken, Thoros stood over him. He didn't want to be brought back, but things don't always goes one's way, he thought. There were only a few of the Brotherhood when Robb opened his eyes again, Arya could have been wherever the rest of them were.

The boy Hot Pie, a strange name Robb thought hand him the odd shaped bread. "Arya always like them. It's a direwolf." Robb lifted it in the air, turning it side to side it may have been one. He couldn't tell which side was the head or the end, but it was a kind gesture.

"I uh, I hope you find her." He turned away back into the door of the Inn. He wanted something, the boy was too afraid to ask.

"Fat boy! Get back over here, I want a word." Daario yelled from behind Robb. The boy had a smile on him full of excitement, he was waddling over practically running.

"How good is your cooking?" Robb turned to Daario, he wondered why would ask these questions. Hot Pie's eyes had hope in them, he was so naive.

"Very good ser, that's why they call him Hot Pie." He smiled, then he began telling his ways of cooking. Daario shut him up very quickly.

"I don't need to hear about food, I want to eat the food. You're coming with us, that kidney pie was... Good." Robb turned to Daario with laughter in his breath. His attempt of a compliment to Hot Pie was pathetic.

Hot Pie turned to Robb, looking for permission. "Go on now, get your pie or whatever the fuck you're bringing." He assured him. The boy practically skipped his way back inside.

The Inn Keeper struggled with taking Hot Pie, but half a pouch of more gold her snaggle tooth wiggled in delight. She practically threw the boy out the door when she counted each and every coin in her hands.

"We don't stay indoors. There's no warm fire to sit by or a bed to sleep in. Last chance to run back inside." Robb offered Hot Pie to change his mind, but he wouldn't listen. He wanted to go, he went on about how he survived the Mountain, and he can handle a trip to Riverrun.

They were almost there, soon the trout banners would be seen in his eyes. He thought of finding Arya, seeing her tiny self again; but those were just thoughts. Robb had vengeance in his mind, he wouldn't rest til it was fulfilled. The vengeance will disappear as will every single one of them will, Robb will make sure of it.

"I saw a battle once. Two men fighting in a tavern, one pulled a knife and stabbed the other right in the neck." Third time he had told that story. Was he inbred or just stupid, Robb thought.

"That's not a battle, you idiot. What you saw was a drunken fight. If you saw a real battle, there'd be piss running down your legs." Daario seemed to regret bringing him along by the sound of his voice.

He was right, if that boy saw a battle he'd hide behind his mother's skirts. Robb remembered the sounds, Oxcross was a massacre compared to the rest. The Lannisters never expected them, not until Grey Wind greeted them.

Robb only fought three battles, the Twins was nothing more than an execution. Most of the people around him probably fought more than him. They're sellswords, they must do it for rich families with no skills he thought.

He shouldn't think like that, Robb did the same things as most of them when he was in Essos. When he entered Volantis, he had not a penny to his name. He didn't matter to anyone there. Robb slept outside, all he saw were slaves and their masters surrounding him. He had to make money somehow, or he'd be dead in a ditch somewhere.

The Riverlands were nothing like Robb had seen before. Most villages were either empty or taken apart by robbers. No girl knew the word 'maiden' they probably took that as well. stables had fallen apart, but the horses were too frightened for anyone to try and ride them.

When people saw them coming down the road, they didn't hide in fear. Robb saw small children with arms as small as twigs staring at him, he couldn't just walk away he gave them his rations of food. They looked to them as saviors, and they followed. Robb didn't stop them, if they traveled with soldiers robbers wouldn't come to take them.

Robb never went to the Inn of the Kneeling Man, but he had heard of it. The last King in the North, before Robb was Torrhen Stark. Torrhen was known as the King who knelt. He bowed to Aegon the Conquerer instead of being an idiot, and trying to fight Aegon and his dragons. Torrhen saved thousands by doing it.

Torrhen Stark was said to have kneeled where the Inn stands now. Robb saw the sign floating alongside the Red Fork, they were close to it. So close Robb could hear yelling.
"Jeyne is left me in charge of your sorry little asses, now get inside right now!" A shrill little voice shrieked. Robb stopped them and as they crossed behind trees. Robb pushed the branches back to look at the screaming woman.

The voice was a child, she was smacking children with a spoon ordering them around like a Queen in a castle. A tall boy, with jet black hair ran over to her bickering with her, Robb could hear few words.

"She's with... Brother... High Heart... -horos and Beri-" She stopped speaking and stared right in Robb's direction. Her brown, beady eyes watched him. She knew he was there. Her skinny little arms raised the crossbow up to her chest walking towards him.

"Come out now or I'll shoot you in your fucking balls!" Her tiny voice roared at them. Robb came out first, his hands were up. When he got a closer look, she was so young. Nine, maybe ten at the most.

She was hungry by the look of her. Her cheeks were gaunt and boney, her eyes had bags under them. Robb tried walking towards her, but she pointed the crossbow right between his eyes. The boy stood behind her, she was the one making the orders.

"We're just passing through, we won't hurt anyone. You can put that down." Robb calmed his voice, she turned her head to see the rest of them behind Robb and made orders again.
"We don't like sellswords, that's what you are aren't you? The last one's who came by threatened to rape me bloody! Now they're dead, go away or you'll end up like them!" Her palms shook and they were full of sweat.

There was only children looking at them, orphans probably. They were so small. Robb pulled bread from his sack and offered them to her. "We don't want to hurt you, here take it. We have more food, if you want it."

She eyes softened at the sight of food, until the boy stepped forward. "We can't trust them." He stared at Robb with piercing blue eyes, he was strong for his age by the size of his arms. The girl stared with anger in her own eyes.

"Gendry they have food. The lady knight came by and didn't hurt us." She lowered the crossbow and pulled the bread from Robb's hand greedily. He called for Hot Pie to bring his pie over.
Hot Pie waddled over and by the sight of the boy Gendry, he sprinted to him hugging him. The heavy boy looked as if he crushed the lad. His blue eyes widened at the sight of him.

"I take it you know him?" Daario walked to Hot Pie, who was out of breath from running to him. He heaved trying to speak to Robb.

"He.... He knows..... He knows her... Arya." Hot Pie pointed to Gendry. Robb felt that drop in his heart again. Gendry looked at him from top to bottom and his head stopped at his chest. He saw the direwolf.

"Who is he?" Gendry asked Hot Pie, he was smart. He knew what to say and when to say it. He wasn't going to say where a girl that the Lannisters wanted to find.

"You know my sister, Arya?" Robb stepped forward to speak for himself. Gendry's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out. He knew who he was.

"You're the one who's a king?" He murmered panicking, he tried to bow until Robb pulled him up. He doesn't have that title anymore. No one's called him that in, he couldn't remember how long.

"This one says Arya is with the Brotherhood, I've.. Met them before and she wasn't with them. Do you know where they hide, or where they are?" Robb said harshly. He didn't want to listen to stories, he needed to know where they were.

"We were going to Riverrun, and Stannis Baratheon's priestess came for me. Beric and Thoros sold me to her. The last I saw her she was with them. They always covered our faces so we couldn't find our way to where they live. But it was near High Heart, I remember seeing the Weirwood stumps through the masks."

When the Andals invaded Westeros, they slaughtered the Children of the forest and chopped down their sacred trees. They promoted their Faith of the Seven Gods, those who disagreed would face their wrath.

It would make sense for the Brotherhood to stay out there, it was secluded and most people believed it was haunted by some woods witch. High Heart was close to Riverrun, if they went off the River Road they could go there.

Riverrun is surrounded by all water, it won't be taken so fast. They would only be taking a different path, if they saw the Brotherhood on the way, it would be two birds with one stone. Arya could be with them, she has to he thought.

"What would Stannis want from you?" He wasn't highborn by the looks of him. His looked down at his shoes, nervous not wanting to speak of it.
"I.. My last name is Waters, bastard to drunken King Robert. I've got King's blood in me, she said. They did something to me, magic but not the good kind. Before they could finish me off, someone set me free. I've been hiding out here ever since."

When Robb looked closer, he did have some of King Robert's traits. He may have been Robert's twin before he became a fat drunk. His Lord father spoke about Robert and his warhammer like he was a God. In Winterfell, Robb saw a fat man sweating when he walked down stairs.

He saw embarrassment in Gendry's eyes, Robb changed the subject and saw little eyes staring up at him. "Where are their parents?" There were dozens of children all around them as they made camp.

"Fathers ran off to war, mothers dead as well. Orphans most of them." Willow spoke up ordering everyone around. She seemed to be the Inn Keeper now, he thought.
She didn't like Robb by the look of him. Willow was a brave little girl though, she will make some man a frightful wife someday. It might even be Gendry for all he knew.

Willow circled him, up and down, for a young age she was smart to be weary of strangers. Her commanding personality reminded him of Arya. Her brown hair, and her tiny structure, she was missing the Stark eyes though.

Her little arms pointed to his armor, everyone seemed to notice the direwolf now. "You're the wolf, the one they talk about. Thoros' prize creation." She said sounding impressed.
"I'm no one's prize, certainly not Thoros and Beric's." He spat, Robb is a person. He wasn't something to parade around and show off.

"The dead King from the Twins? Thoros says you were floating for days when they found you along the Trident. He didn't think it would work, until POOF! Your eyes opened."

Thoros was bragging about him. The drunken priest finally had something new to speak about his Red God. What caught Robb's attention was that Willow knew the Brotherhood.

"You've met Thoros?" Her smart mind widdled down to a girl knowing she had spoken too much. It made sense why they had survived this long, they had the Brotherhood Without Banners protecting them. Robb just needed to find them.

"They come by for help, we ablige. My sister Jeyne's with them now." She was so young, but she was so old at the same time.

"Do you know where we can find them?" Robb asked nicely.

"High Heart, some haunted hill last I heard. They could be gone by now, for all I know." She turned back to the children, yelling and commanding like she was a soldier.

They must be at High Heart, Robb thought. The Second Sons wouldn't need to know where they were going. He could say it was a short cut, they were foreigners. They wouldn't know where to go.

Gendry was with the Brotherhood, before he was sent to Stannis he said before. Robb could bring him along, some help with finding them. He thought of Willow and the rest of the children.
Robert's bastard son had to have been the only one able to fight. He would leave them defenseless to the robbers who might come. Robb turned to the lot he was surrounded by, the villagers.
They followed Robb, the Inn may be large enough for them. At least he won't be leaving a dozens of orphans off to their graves. He gave them rations of food, it would help. Robb just hoped it would go along smoothly.

It smelled like stale bread in the Inn, Willow explained she tried baking some she found, it burned. She shouldn't be doing all of this, someone should be taking care of her. He walked throughout looking for Gendry.

Willow saw Robb wandering, and gave him an answer. "He likes to play with armor, spends all day out there hitting it with that bloody hammer. I can hear it when I try to sleep." She pointed to the stable that was no more than rubble.

He heard the clash of metal slamming down, over and over. Gendry stood bashing his hammer down to the sword, Robb thought of the stories of King Robert and his mighty war hammer.
"That's a sharp blade." Robb pointed out. It had been beaten with that hammer more times than he could count. He startled Gendry by his jump, he had been so mesmerized by one sword.
"I was an apprentice in King's Landing, that's where I met your father the Hand." Robb never knew his father met Gendry. What would he want from him, he thought.

"You met him? What did he want from you." His father knew of Robert and his bastards, but he may not have known every one of them.

"Same thing the Hand before him asked. Who my mother was, what she looked like." Gendry was an interest to many people. Robb wanted to ask, but he already began to.
"Why are you here, what is it?" He had annoyance in his voice.

"I need you to take me to Thoros and Beric, I have some.. Unfinished business with them." He kept a straight and solemn face asking him.

"Why do you think she'd be with them, she can survive she doesn't need them. She's not the little girl you probably remember." He was right, he hadn't seen his little sister in years. Arya had to have changed.

"She might be with them, or she might not. It's a way for me to know if she's still alive. Will you help me or not?" The boy was a stubborn bull, Robb was practically begging him.
"What you just want me to follow you around, you'd be M'lord or Your Grace it's the same thing I told Arya. I can't leave Willow and the rest of them." More excuses were just coming out of him.

"We brought people from other villages along, the children won't be alone. What are all these excuses. If we do find Arya will she tell me something? Did you touch her?"

Robb was just trying to irritate him at the last part he said. The shade of red Gendry's face turned was an utter delight to him. He would never, but he kept making excuses. Robb wanted to get at him somehow.

"Wha- NO! I would never!" He yelped like a little boy, Robb had to assure him.

"Save your breath, you're still a blushing virgin anyway. What will you do if you stay here? Keep using the hammer on a sword you'll never wield, or actually learn how to use it? Your choice, we leave at dawn."

It was raining, the sky was a bleak, the sun was no where to be seen. You couldn't even tell it was dawn. Robb and the Second Sons would spend the rest of their day walking in it.

Willow stood at the door watching them all leave, she said her goodbyes with distrustful stares. She turned back inside ordering everyone around, Robb could still hear her voice in the distance.

They began marching left and right, back to the beginning, except they didn't know where they would be going. Hot Pie waddled along with them, talking about more food.

Gendry had made his choice, he would stay there with Willow and the others. That was until he heard running. The black haired bastard had come with them. A grin appeared on Robb, Gendry made the right choice.

Two thousand of the walking along the River Road, until he stopped them. "Lannisters were spotted 3 leagues of here. There are too many to fight, we'll take a different route."
No one seemed to object, Gendry had a dissatisfied look on him but no one disagreed to his plan. They turned away from the Red Fork, farther into the woods.

They have to know where she is, he thought. They have to. Robb had to think that, because if he didn't, he'd be leading them to death.

Chapter Text

GREETINGS READERS! I've returned with a new chapter. I read you're comments and I fixed paragraphs and I hope you like it. :) Also there will be some of that Robb and Daenerys parts soon, but in this chapter you'll see the past, present, and future... Hope you like it! More chapters on the way. X

Robb:

He lost track of where they were, he couldn't hear the Trident or see any water near. Most times Robb spoke we lies, no one really saw through them. Gendry gave his stares, but they were just looks.

"Riverrun is near a river, we haven't seen any water in two days. Just admit it, you're lost." They didn't assume Robb did this on purpose. The only thing they saw were trees, so many trees.

He didn't answer, they noticed Robb's silence. He heard the mumbles behind them, questioning his directions. High Heart is an empty hill with white tree stumps everywhere. There was nothing here.

"You said Lannisters were on the River Road, how would you know that? We were at that Inn the whole time." His excuses were dwindling down to nothing, Robb didn't have an answer.

The sun was setting, they would soon make camp and see they were running low on food. It could last them a day or two, but it would take longer to get back to Riverrun.

The sound of footsteps of two thousand men stopped. Robb turned to see them standing there, brows furrowed and knowing he was lying.

"My sister could be at High Heart, I thought we could-"

"WE thought nothing! First we were sent to fight for strangers, now we go looking for dead girls? You don't think we see how much food we have? We're not simple minded, unlike you stupid fuck looking for a girl who's probably buried right underneath us."

Robb ran head first into Daario, knocking him to the ground. There was a struggle, Daario had his grasp on his knife but it dropped. Robb held his head back trying to twist it like an apple off a tree for it to fall off.

He wanted to howl when the rush of pain brushed through him. Daario reached his knife, blood filled at his thigh. He probably was trying to castrate Robb. He kept punching him and punching til he broke free from the sellsword's grasp.

Gendry was the one to pull them off each other, he was quite strong for a boy his age. Robb and Daario bickered at each other, until Hot Pie began to scream.

"Listen.. Listen! LISTEN!!" He squealed. They both froze in complete silence to hear the sounds of screams. Robb and Daario both rose with swords in their hands following the voices.
"Do you smell that? I think it's rabbit. No, no it's squirrel!" Hot Pie sprinted to the abandoned camp where they had left their food, something interrupted them.

He sat down on a branch by the fire, and Robb saw the banner sticking up from the ground. The bridge sigil. Quietly, Robb ushered Hot Pie away from there and the screams were heard closer.

"And so he spoke, and so he spoke that Lord of Casatmere. Yes now the Reynes weep o'er their halls and not a soul to hear." Robb cringed at the words of that song, he heard the drums and the pipes again like he was there in the hall.

A dozen men he counted, Robb saw no Frey banners though. Three men standing on a tree truck with a noose around each of their necks. He dashed his head to the side, right before the arrow would have went between his eyes.

"Who's hiding back there? A lion, trout, seven hells maybe the wildlings finally made it down south." Robb remembered that voice, he stepped out to see the drunken priest who found him at the Twins.

"Well a bloody wolf, I remember this wolf. A good ressurection that was, it seems you didn't get yourself killed again." Thoros waved his pouch of wine around with his many hand gestures.
"Good to see you too Thoros. I heard you had someone of mine." Robb walked towards the men held by the noose, crying and begging for mercy. They still wore those idiotic caps on their heads.
"No one of yours, but we did find some of these lurking around. Go on now, tell the wolf King what you were bragging about. I believe it was about the Red Wedding." Robb gritted his teeth pulling one of them by his collar.
"I, I, It was only stories! I took no part, please mercy!" Robb shook him bloody til he wet himself with piss dripping down the man's leg. He still wanted an answer, Robb wanted to hear what he said.

"He bragged of how he was the one to draw the first cut. To the pregnant one." Thoros spoke sullen sipping more of his wine. Robb showed no mercy, he thought of his wolf dreams. He thought of ripping out the Freys throats with his own teeth.

Instead, he pulled his blade out until Thoros stopped him. "No, no, no, no. We're not butchers, we hang them. You can have one." Hanging was quick, Robb wanted them to suffer, he wanted them to feel all the pain they all went through at the Twins.

"They killed me, two." He couldn't argue Robb's answer, so he agreed. He pushed both of the Freys slowly at the same time, watching them choke. They put up a fight, spasming until their necks couldn't hold them, they stopped moving swinging side to side with the wind blowing.

Hot Pie and Gendry slid out in plain sight looking down away from the bodies. "Now that that's done, why are you here. You brought an army of sellswords with you it looks like."

"Never mind that, my sister Arya. You had her and you never told me?" Robb spat at the drunken priest with venom in his words.

"We found her with fat boy over there and the lad with him. What are you doing here, Stannis set you free? Oh never mind that, we were gonna return her to you and your mother. For a price of course, but after this one went off with the Priestess she ran off."

"I didn't go with her, you sold me! I wanted to be one of you, but I was just worth two pouches of gold." Gendry yelled to him. The boy had fury in his eyes, they did something to him while he was with Stannis. Something he would remember when he slept, like Robb does every night when he closes his eyes.

Robb felt useless, it was stupid to come here. They were all right, Arya wasn't with them she may have been dead like what they all said. They could have been to Riverrun by now, for all he knew the Lannisters could have taken the castle by now and his uncle could be dead.

"I hope you know where you're going in these woods, the bloody wolves are everywhere these days." Thoros explained offering a night of safety. Robb tried to say no, but the Second Sons had begun to leave without him.

Only Hot Pie and Gendry stood waiting for knowing what they should do. Both boys didn't trust the Brotherhood with their history, but it was getting dark and the wolves wouldn't care. "We should go." He told the two to join the rest of them.

It had been the second time he tripped over a white stump, they were getting close to this haunted hill. The moon was shining down on them, he could hear the sound of wolves echoing across the trees.

Most of the Second Sons ignored him, Westeros had not grew on them. With Robb bringing them farther into the cold, woods of the Riverlands they had become more cross with him. Robb walked to the front, catching up with Thoros.

"Why didn't you tell me you had my sister?" Robb said to the priest. He was guzzling down wine that dripped down to his red beard. He thought of what it tasted like, he hadn't had wine since Meereen.

"Well you didn't give us the time of day. After you woke, you stood staring at the Twins for hours, listening to the screams. Then when you finally started moving, you ran off saying you had to go to Volantis, You still had the same blood soaked clothes. We offered you to stay, but you run fast."

Robb kept his silence, before they spoke more they reached the hill. Hundreds of weirwoods chopped down everywhere. In the center stood a hill watching everyone who entered.

"No harm can ever come to those sleeping here." The singer pointed out, it would be impossible to come unnoticed here. At the hill, a fire was burning and men sat there waiting.

"You look terrible." Robb greeted Beric with his scars of all his deaths. He was not a sight for sore eyes.

"Old friends Thoros? You're just on time, she's awake." He pointed to the little child sleeping next to the stumps. When she woke, it was not a child. The old woman rose, not very high he thought. She looked at least three feet tall with red crimson eyes staring at them all.

"The Ember and the Lord of Corpses visit me again, and they bring friends." She said in a raspy voice. Thoros and Beric knew her enough for their nicknames.

"I always hated that title. I've asked you to not call me that." He may have not liked it, but it suited Beric due to all his lives. She cackled at him.

"Aye, you have. But the stink of death fresh on you, my Lord. A skin of wine for my dreams, and my song from Tom o' Seven for my news."

"You will have your song from Tom." He gave her the wineskin himself. The dwarf woman drank deep, the wine running down her chin. When she lowered the skin, she wiped her mouth with the back of a wrinkled hand.

"The weirwoods whisper and won't let me sleep. I dreamt of blue eyes opening, and a wolf howling in a hall, but no one heard his grief. I heard such a clangor I thought my head might burst. Drums and horns, pipes and screams, but the saddest part was the baby's cry."

The old woman took another gulp. Robb didn't like her, everyone knew about the Twins. Her dreams were nothing to him. She was cruel to bring up 'the baby's cry.'

"I dreamed of a roaring giant fallen into chains by pink men, and a trout freezing in the snow. The Kraken King dies, and a new one rose from the salty water. Now the iron squids turn on one another, and a great black beast will fly over a pile of dead ants."

She took another sip and Robb scuffed at her remarks. Her ears tilted like a rabbit, her blood red eyes moved to him. "I see you." She whispered.

"I see you boy, and I see what you covered in. You may not and the rest of them don't but I do..." She stood and began shaking and yelling.

"I look at you and I can feel the heat burning my skin. It's wrapped around your insides, and it will get tighter and tighter until you CRACK! To you, it's a warm feeling, but don't listen to it! It plays with your mind, you'll only die sooner."

While she spoke, she walked up to Robb shaking him, wanting him to understand. She was a mad woman, he thought. Her red eyes were desperately hoping he knew what she was talking about, but he didn't.

"You're so young, and forever young you will be. You will die for her, you'll be consumed in the fire, you'll drowned in the dragon's fire for her. Until you realize it was the venom, and your happiness will turn to ash in your mouth."

"Don't frighten the boy." Thoros protested.

"I see you wolf child, blood child. I thought it was the Lord who smelled of death..." The old woman began shaking and sobbing.

"You are cruel to come to my hill, CRUEL! I gorged on grief at Summerhal, I need none of yours. Begone from here wolf boy, Begone!" She yelled louder and louder until Robb rose from his stump.

"We leave now." He spat to the Second Sons who were making camp. Most of them, just stared at him, but the woods witch had words that none of them wanted to hear.

"He is leaving to Riverrun to fight the Freys, he won't be any trouble to you now." Beric assured her. She nodded her head in disagreement.

"No, he won't be fighting. The lions wait for them at the draw bridge, they will pounce and you will run to the cold. I saw it once, in my dreams. Then the little lion cub won't land on his feet and he will go SPLAT onto the ground." She guzzled down the last of her wine and turned to Beric.

"I will have my payment now. I want my song." Beric shook the sleeping singer to wake and he pulled his wooden harp.

"Same song as before?" He asked.

"Oh aye, my Jenny's song. Is there another?" And so he sang, the dwarf woman closed her eyes and rocked back and forth slowly. She murmered the words while crying.

When they walked down the hill, Robb still heard her cries. In his head, he still heard the woods witch and her dreams.

They ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. They were weak when they slept, their eyes would be closed, not being able to see who was near; so they didn't sleep.

The wolves sounded so close, but they never saw one. Robb's legs had a burning sensation in them, he wanted to drop to the ground and just sit. His eyes were getting so heavy, he wanted to close them and sleep anywhere.

The food was growing smaller, so they would keep walking until they saw the trout banners. The trident was in sight again, now they just walked. along the River Road.

Robb could hear the squishing of the mud on his boots. They were at the Red Fork, he could tell by the red mud. His uncle Brynden always said the red shade was 'Tully Red.'

They just had to walk straight along the road, with not trouble and find his mother's home. Their feet stopped, seeing two men walking along.

"Good morning, do you know if we are we getting close to Riverrun?" It was a woman, a tall woman in fact, taller than Robb and most of the men here. Her hair was cut short, and had more armor on than Robb.

A great big sword was at her side, it's grip was the golden head of a lion. "Depends on who's asking. That's a lion on your sword, any relations?" He questioned the woman.

"We're not here to fight, I'm sending a message to someone." She gripped her sword, she was weary of talking to him. Robb followed her movement, he kept his hand at the his side.

It was a quiet, and awkward. Neither of the two trusted one another. "Who do you serve?" Robb said frankly to both of them, he saw the little one, probably a squire by the look of him.

"I am Brienne of Tarth, and this is Podrik Payne. I serve Lady Sansa.. Of house Stark." She had strength in her voice, pride most likely Robb felt that drop in his heart, but he knew she was lying.

"Liar." Robb spat with anger in his breath. Brienne of Tarth didn't raise her sword, she only stared at the direwolf painted on his chest. She had a look of pity towards Robb, that only fueled him with annoyance.

Robb would have pulled out his sword, until she spoke. "I promised her mother Lady Catelyn, I'd bring her daughters back to her." Her voice was soft, unlike her armor. She looked at him like he was a boy.

"Lady Catelyn is dead." He said to her. Anyone could have said her story, he wouldn't give his name to just anyone.

"I know. And I will regret not being able to save her for the rest of my life." Robb's brow furrowed. She had regret in her voice, she sounded sad.

"You look like her, your mother. She sent me to return Jaime Lannister to King's Landing in exchange for your sisters." Robb's head turned up, that was how he remembered her. He imprisoned his mother for letting the Kingslayer escape.

"Why are you here?" He said. They were close to Riverrun, Robb didn't want to here this woman talk about his mother. His uncle was alive, and he was going to help him.

"Your sister sent me to ask the Blackfish to come to her and your brother's aid. You have more men than him, your men could-" She wanted him to leave his uncle to the Lannisters. He wouldn't abandon his family.

"I can't leave my uncle and his men to die to the Lannisters." He objected.

"You don't have enough men to fight the Freys and the Lannisters. I'm going to speak to the Kingslayer, ask of him to let you pass North. Roose Bolton is dead, his son has your little brother hostage. They will fight, with or without you. I hope you make the right choice."

Roose Bolton was dead, he thought. Robb was angry he didn't do the kill, he wanted him to feel every pain that every person felt at the Twins. He was a traitor, now his son will be marching his way to death.

Robb could see the tents, red and grey. The Lannisters did come, the witch was right. He saw massive drawbridge held up, and the single Tully banner flying above the castle.

He saw the direwolf banner next to the trout, he smiled at the sight of that. Rivverun was built on the Red Fork, it was surrounded by a moat on three sides. The only ways in were the draw bridges on each side.

The water gate was down below in the water, it was made for boats to enter. They could swim inside, but people would notice two thousand men swimming in the river. The Lannisters and the Freys blocked the south part of the castle. All that was left to enter was the western gate.

The bridge was on the other side of the Red Fork, all the Freys could do was watch them enter the castle. Even if they did try and stop them, they would be already inside.

Crossbows were aimed down on them, all the men word the black fish scale armor his uncle had worn. "Who goes there?" One shouted. Robb wanted to chuckle, he was once a King.

"Tell Blackfish to come to the gate! His nephew is here." Their faces were like stone, no one flinched only to stare at him like he was an enemy. They thought he was lying, anyone would think Robb was, they all remember what happened to the Starks. Or what they think, he thought.

"His nephews are all dead, go back to the Kingslayer and tell him you failed!" All he needed was Blackfish to see, but they started to walk away. He had two thousand men looking at him with disappointment in their eyes.

Two thousand men, he thought. His uncle would never send soldiers to deal with two thousand men, he would see it himself. Robb panicked when the men began to turn away, he said whatever words were in his head.

"Your cloak! The clasp, it's made of dragonglass. Who was the one that took the bow from Edmure at grandfather's funeral?" He would have said more, but they turned towards Robb again. The crossbows weren't raised.

His uncle walked slowly into view, still the grey haired man he remembered, still with the black fish scales. His face was stern, he didn't speak. He whispered to the man next to him, Robb wasn't close enough to hear. He face had no emotion, and just walked back.

His uncle probably dispised him, probably blaming Robb for everything. That was until the bridge creaked. That red rust of the chains fell down, the draw bridge was being lowered.

Robb took two steps back when the bridge fell to his feet. Hundreds of men stood in Riverrun, his uncle Brynden was in front of them all, and a wolf by his side. He marched towards Robb with the same solemn face on, and Grey Wind sprinting after him.

He was bigger, Robb brushed his hand against his fur. He saw the gold eyes that followed him to battle and smiled. "I missed you boy."

When he reached Robb he froze, and fell to one knee. he chuckled, he always treated him as a King more than a nephew. Robb pulled him up from the ground, and threw his arms around his uncle.

"Double the guards tonight, the Kingslayer wants to try us." His uncle ordered. He marched around in a haste.

Two days the gates opened to them, his uncle was mad with being one step ahead of the Lannisters. He was paranoid.

They didn't speak, most times Brynden would just stare at him. He thought he wasn't real, just a mind trick. When they did speak, it was short and quiet.

The woman Brienne of Tarth, she had come through the gates as well. She followed Blackfish around hoping he would leave Riverrun. "I said no three times already. I haven't seen Sansa since she was a little girl. I don't know her signature, I don't know you, and we will not surrender."

Jaime Lannister had more than double the men than what they had, there would be no battle, only slaughter. Brienne looked to Robb in support of going North, he read Sansa's letter. Her words didn't sound like the girl he said goodbye to, she sounded like a stranger.

"We wouldn't arrive in time, the battle would be over before we even made it to the Neck, let alone Winterfell." Robb was just being honest. Blackfish agreed with him.

"Lady Sansa and your half brother are traveling to bannermen's castles, they have men. If you bring your soldiers, they could take on the Boltons." Half brother, that sounded so odd to him.

"I can't leave my home to traitors and murderers. Edmure is still a prisoner, we can't leave him surrounded by enemies again." Brienne was practically running after him, finally when he read the letter, he smiled.

In Robb's whole time knowing his uncle, he never smiled. It was rather odd, he thought. "She's exactly like her mother." His smile disappeared after those words.

He turned to Robb and Brienne, "Even with sellswords, you'd need more men to take Winterfell." He was softening, he was always loyal to family.

"Riverrun won't die like the rest of us. It will stand long after we're all gone, we can take it back after. The Freys will think we abandoned it, they won't see us com-" Men yelled from the top, someone came to the bridge.

They both ran down to see who was waiting for them. Robb's eyes widened, he knew him. He was Robb's prisoner once, but with both hands. He didn't think he would seeing Jaime Lannister again, by the look of the Kingslayer he thought the same about Robb.

Blackfish spoke first, "Come to surrender Kingslayer, you probably saw my nephew bring his men. We have the men, either fight us or run back to your sister. Either way, vengeance will come for you. Just ask Robb."

The Kingslayer was quiet for a moment. He just stared at Robb, like everyone else does. "I've come to offer you one last chance to surrender. King Tommen has sent 5,000 men to take the castle by force. They'll be here by sunrise, if you surrender you'll save thousands of lives. Even with Stark's men, it won't be enough."

They wouldn't be able to hold the castle long, he thought. Going North would keep all of them alive. Blackfish didn't speak, he just stared intensely at the Kingslayer. "You would be saving your nephew Edmure as well, the Freys aren't as kind to prisoners. Just ask the rest of your bannermen."

He was trying to anger Robb, he wanted to shove his sword through his green eyes that had a smug look in them. "How do we know you haven't killed Edmure already? Bring him." Robb commanded.

He waved his hand to Black Walder pushing him to the draw bridge. Robb never trusted him, neither did Grey Wind. He should have listened to his wolf. Edmure looked terrible. He was covered in dirt and his hair grew to be long and greasy.

When he looked up to see Robb and Brynden, his eyes widened. He gave the same stare as the rest of them. "Do as he says. We'll all die if you don't." Edmure was like a trained animal, beaten until he listened.

"We're going to bring you home Edmure. By tomorrow, the Kingslayer will be in your chains." Robb assured his uncle as they went inside.

"We're going North aren't we?" Blackfish said walking beside him.

"Yes."

................

The sky sprayed a pink mist, the moon began to fade and the sun was lurking in. Lions surrounded the trout's home. The seige would come to an end now, the wolf and the trout would finally bow to the lions.

The floppy fish walked among the tents, the Frey all watched in disgust. Their prize was being sent over to Riverrun. Most of the people around him thought the Kingslayer was a fool to send him back.

Edmure Tully was the only thing the Freys had over Blackfish, he could join his uncle in the seige and they would have nothing. "I demand entry." Edmure said. His voice had the lion's roar in it, just listening to what the Kingslayer told him.

Boys stared down at the Tully Lord, sweating and pale. It took half a dozen to push the draw bridge down. There was a seige right outside their gates and they send boys to watch the walls, Edmure thought.

Jaime waited at the crimson tents, waiting and hoping what he had done wouldn't go wrong. Black Walder approached him, his cheekbone had bruised quickly from his backhand. He wasn't named for his hair color, he had a quick temper that went along with it.

"If you're wrong, you just surrendered our most valuable prisoner." He remarked. Hopefully he wasn't wrong then. The draw bridge lowered and the river Lord march in.

Servants and green boys stared at him. Something was wrong, Edmure saw his nephew bring an army into the fortress, not one of them stood in the castle.

"Welcome home my Lord." Servants bowed and greeted him.

"Command the forces to lay down their swords and open the gates." He commanded. Edmure imagined there would be an argument when he spoke but they turned to one another. The draw bridge went down willingly.

The lions pounced and their prey fell. The trout followers had terror and fear in each of their eyes. "Find my nephew and uncle. Put them in irons and hand them over."

Their eyes widened, but they didn't move. "Your Lord has given a command. Where are they." Edmure had fury breathing through him, but fear as well.

Jaime stood above the walls of Riverrun, the Lion banners were pulled up and the Freys bowed to the lion. He would return to Cersei now, and the Freys would take the Blackfish and Robb Stark would be his prisoner now.

"They're gone my Lord, only the servants are left here." They were idiots, Jaime thought. No one saw two thousand men leave. The only ones he saw were the maiden fair and her squire rowing away.

The Kingslayer's offer of surrender gave their men time to escape. No one saw over two thousand heads bobbing in and out of the river just below them the night before. They only heard a wolf howling in the distance.

Chapter Text

HEY THERE READERS!!! I'M BACK... With a new chapter. I would have written sooner but I was at a wedding (Was not hosted by the Freys XD) and I didn't have time, so here it is! This chapter will involve REVENGE and some badass people that D and D ruined will show up... Hope you like it and comment what you think of it! X

Robb:

The river had a bland, grey look to it. The water was choppy, Robb could hear the splashing against the stone. His boots still squished with water, no matter how many times he shook them, half of the trident still squished.

The rain hit their backs like rocks. Most of the Second Sons complained, but his uncle's forces never said a word. "Men spotted Black Walder and Lothar leaving during the seige. The Kingslayer was storming Riverrun, they went to tell their father of their victory." Blackfish chuckled at the thought of the Freys and their tiny minds.

His eyes had fury fuming through them when he saw the two towers standing on each side of the river. Robb remembered the screams and the slicing of the knives. All those men, who fought for him and named him king, now haunt the halls of the Twins.

The rest of the Frey's forces were still at Riverrun, settling in to their new fortress. No one would think to return so soon. The remaining Lannister soldiers probably went south again, they had no use to go home so early.

Robb wasn't thinking of mercy towards the Freys, only revenge pulsed through his vains and every inch of his body. They didn't have banners, no direwolves or trouts flew above them. He truly didn't have a plan, only for a sword to go through Walder Frey's chest.

He thought of just storming the castle, the Freys were weak with most of their men gone. That was, until they heard laughter of men. The sound of swords being pulled echoed across the river.

Most of them didn't think they would see them again, but their they stood. Thoros drinking from his canteen and the rest of the brotherhood rifling through someone's camp. "Well look who it is. We didn't think we'd see any of you since you left running from an old woman telling ghost stories."

The camp had bridge banners, apparently the Brotherhood had ran into them before they could. Thoros turned to see where they were going, he saw the Twins down the hill and began laughing.

"Ohhh, you smart little shit. No wonder why you didn't fight. You're smart for a boy." Thoros tried complimenting him, but Robb always hated being called a boy.

Beric rose from the rest of them when he heard Thoros. He had interest in their trip to the Twins. "We're coming." The Lord of Corpses commanded. He pulled the banner from the ground and began carrying it.

"What do you mean you're coming? I thought the Brotherhood didn't choose sides." Robb stated. Most of them began to pack up, they respected Beric's leadership.

"We don't. Protecting the smallfolk needs weapons, we need gold for food and weapons. Rich houses have plenty of gold in their castles." Beric explained. It made more sense, he thought.

A man with a yellow cloak the color of lemons handed them hats. They were the caps the Freys wore, it always made them look simple minded. "It'll help with getting in the castle." He mumbled.

Daario looked as if he was going to piss himself when Robb put it on, his uncle had annoyance towards the sellsword. "Watch you tongue. That's your King." Tension had built up and both Blackfish and Daario stared at him. They waited for a response.

"I serve no Kings, only the Queen Daenerys Targaryen." The sellsword spat at him. Blackfish eyes had confusion when he heard her name. If only Daario had kept his mouth shut.

"Say that name again? Targaryen?" His voice was harsh. Blackfish clenched his fists trying not to be stupid. His voice was loud enough for the men to hear him.

"We made a deal. She sent the Second Sons with me to Riverrun, try and get the Riverlands and the North to her side." His brow furrowed, but his anger eased.

"And I assume you're marrying her for an alliance to secure the North. After all, you are their King." Blackfish waited for an answer, but Robb didn't give him the right one.

"I'm not marrying her, and I don't plan to. For the deal to come to plan, I had to give up the title." He said quietly. His uncle had disappointment when he looked at Robb. Blackfish turned to his men, leaving.

"The Lannisters are probably gone, we can still take Riverrun, free Edmure." His uncle ordered, but the men didn't move. They looked to Robb waiting for a command. Blackfish looked as them as if they were traitors.

"My brother died at the red wedding. I want to see them pay." A man stepped forward, as he explained to Blackfish. More spoke, they all wanted revenge.

Robb walked forward and offered his uncle more reasons to stay. "She has the same enemies as us. She has allies, and even worse pets." He had no men that would go with him.

Blackfish wanted to walk away, but he sighed and walked back. "Who are these allies?" Robb bit his tongue, his uncle wouldn't agree to him.

His eyes were harsh, he coud tell if Robb was lying. "Last I heard Dorne and the Reach have come to her aid. The Greyjoys offered her a naval fleet." Robb mumbled the words under his breath.

"Greyjoys? You chose to side with the ones who murdered your brothers and took your home?!" He had madness in his words, Blackfish didn't see a nephew when he spoke.

Robb was tired of being belittled to a boy. He didn't care if it was his uncle. "I know who they are, you don't need to remind me. They didn't kill Bran and Rickon, but Rickon will be if you keep trying to go back to Riverrun. So you can go back to Riverrun or come North and fight for your family."

Blackfish wanted to say so much more, but he pursed his lips and grabbed a banner. "I'm not wearing one of those fucking hats."

Robb imagined the Freys would be at least smarter than to just open their gates to anyone who wore a hat. They couldn't even see Grey Wind walking amongst them, if only they were smarter.

"Open the gates, tell Lord Frey they've returned!" They shouted from above them. Robb's anger grew faster and his heart felt it would rip out of his chest. He gripped his sword til his hands burned waiting to plunge it through Walder Frey.

Robb stood in the same spot before. They were welcomed as friends before, but most of them were killed and few escaped. His uncles men wore stern faces, most of the men who rallied to Blackfish's side were survivors or lost one of their own.

Little did they know revenge was on most of their minds. The Second Sons were eager to join the fight, they hadn't had one in weeks, they were hungry for it. Smoke rose from the first tower, and screams echoed across the Red Fork.

Most of them recognized Grey Wind, they connected the pieces when it came to Robb. He didn't even look at their faces, one slice or thrust with his sword and he moved onto the next one.
Robb thought of the Kingslayer's words, the Freys weren't good hosts. Just asked your bannermen, he thought. He stopped his pace before entering the hall to find Walder Frey, and turned away.

A skinny legged man, his face was covered in pimples was running to hide. Robb pulled him by the neck and pulled the blade to his neck. "The prisoners, where do keep them?!" He studdered and was dripping with sweat.

"Most of them are in the dungeons! It was getting full, Lord Walder had us throw the soldiers in the river..." All those men, they went to war with him died and Robb could do nothing to stop it.

Water dripping from the cracks was the only sound when they walked down. There was no noise, only darkness. Torches they brought down was the only light in there. Robb pressed the flame closer against the walls and he saw them.

Dozens were squished into one tiny cell. There were so many cells with so many more men. The light shined on them, they were covered in dirt hovering. Most of them cringed at seeing light. Robb pulled the doors open.

Some stood thinking it was a trick, others thought they were dead when they saw Robb. Wendel Manderly was the first to rise and walk to Robb. He wept and fell to his knees, holding onto his boots.

"Most of the men are here, we're missing some. Umber." Blackfish said checking cells. Robb tightened the blade to the man's throat again. His most loyal bannerman could be floating in the Trident by now.

"He, he, he fought. GreatJon killed two men and bit ears off when they put him in here. They put him in his own cell. Down at the end." Robb had no use of the Frey he held on to. The blood spray on Robb's face and the man fell to the ground.

The end of the room was a tiny cell. It had no windows, only a hole in the door. It was probably for food, less trouble when they fed him probably. The door creaked open to darkness, only tiny holes in the walls with little shines of the moon.

"Fuck off Freys." Robb remembered that voice. It was the one who first named him King. He could see the GreatJon's long legs stretched on the ground. He was laying in straw for a bed.

"GreatJon. We're going home." Robb had pride in his voice when he said it. GreatJon's head rose when he heard his voice. He backed farther into the shadows until Robb couldn't see him anymore.

He charged at him, Robb was like a doll when GreatJon lifted him in the air. His hands grabbed him by the neck. By the look of him, the Lord of Last Hearth had the same clothes on from the Twins, but more ragged and torn. His beard had grown to his stomach.

"Years, YEARS! I was locked in that room, and where were you? All this time, we thought you had died. You just left us here to rot in our own piss and shit? ANSWER ME!" His hands were shaking, so many eyes stared at Robb.

Brynden raised his sword to GreatJon but Robb lifted his arm to stop him. "I know, I know. I shouldn't be here, none of us should. My family is in danger, we're going north. I could have just went straight there, but I didn't. We're going home."

GreatJon's hands tightened harder until he dropped him on the ground. Robb gasped only to see his sword in his hand. He swung the sword and Robb closed his eyes, only to hear tearing. The rest of Umber's beard had fallen on the ground.

His face had relief on it, and began walking. GreatJon turned to the hall looking for something. "My son. Where is he?" Brienne of Tarth had told Robb of SmallJon's betrayal. He was once a loyal friend, his father wouldn't be pleased to hear of it.

"He sold my brother to the Boltons. He's betrayed us." Robb spoke sullen. GreatJon's reaction to his son was not what he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

"No, not my son. He wouldn't do that. He's an Umber, I raised my son right. You'll see." He sounded so sure. GreatJon said you'll see, he thought. He agreed to go.

"Let's get out of here you lazy fucks!" GreatJon roared cracking his fists, preparing. Most of them cheered at the sight of an open door. They rushed out the draw bridge, hungry for blood and revenge.

They saved the hall for last. Walder Frey requested to be alone and have dinner with his sons. He would regret that soon, Robb thought.

He was alone, Robb wanted to go in first. He wanted to see the look on Walder Frey's face when Robb entered the hall.

The door creaked loud enough, his feet were light as feathers they didn't make a sound. Robb remembered the spots where he stood, his blood dripping onto the floor. It was all washed away like none of it had happened.

He smelled pie, the air had a mix of blood and sweat. Robb walked to the middle of the hall to find Walder Frey, but he was now how he had expected. Blood was already dripping from his open throat into the two pies he had not finished.

A servant girl stood in front of Robb, she didn't hear him come through. Her hand was dripping red, the other had the blade. The girl had gotten to Walder Frey before him. He always had younger wives, he must have forced himself on the wrong girl.

Robb walked forward, his feet became loud enough to hear. "You beat me to it." He assured her. Her back tensed at his voice, the knife fell to the ground. The girl turned to him, her eyes softened. She didn't look familiar, but she looked like she could weep.

"Are you alright, girl?" He asked. She eyes widened and turned back to the tables to hide her face. The servant girl swept her face and what looked like a mask fell to the ground. Her hair had changed, the dark brown had gone to a lighter and shorter chestnut brown.

Her head turned back to him, he remembered that face. He said goodbye in Winterfell years ago, to a skinny little girl with her little sword at her side. Arya stood before him again, she was so old.

She walked towards him and fell to his arms, Robb squeezed her tightly hoping to never let her go. Her bloody hands clung to him. The mask she wore fell laid on the ground, only it wasn't a mask.

At that point, GreatJon had found his way to the Great Hall with the rest of them. Blackfish had a look of shock and relief when he saw Arya. GreatJon began to laugh, he looked up to the walls and anger grew on him.

"Those fucking Freys." He mumbled until his growls. Umber climbed to the top of the tables, leaning against the wall to grab what he had been waiting for, for years. Robb thought he was going to kiss his sword by the looks he gave it.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." GreatJon bellowed handing the swords to the other men the Freys had taken from them.

"How can you be here? I saw you. I saw your body being thrown in the river, mother's too..." Arya's voice was calm like killing a man was normal to her.

"Your friends the Brotherhood offered their help here." He told her. She had a look of disgust when he mentioned them.

"They're not my friends, they sold my real friend to the Red Woman." She spat thinking about them.

"Gendry, I know. We found him at an inn. A fat boy as well who never shuts up about kidney pie." She turned back to him, her eyes had softened to a little girl. She looked like their mother.

She turned around to see one of Beric's men, a boy actually. It was his squire we claimed. Arya's brows furrowed and turned to Robb. "Ned's here." The name gave him a sharp pain through his body.

The boy came through the hall helping the GreatJon hand out swords. He was part of the Brotherhood at such a young age. Beric's squire he thought it was.

He had the looks of Daenerys, the silver blonde hair was not seen much anymore. "Why did you bring them here. Where are they, Thoros and Beric?" She gripped her tiny sword that hid on the side.

She walked out of the hall, her face was frozen with no emotion. Robb followed her. "You really think you're going to kill them." He was quick enough to pull it from her side, she turned to him trying to get it back.

"I had a list. Every night before I slept I would say the names of who I would kill. Walder Frey, Cersei, Joffrey, so many more. Beric and Thoros too, they sold my friend for gold." Her grey eyes twitched slightly.

She was faster than he thought, fast enough to trip Robb and take back her sword. By the tie he stood, she was already running.

Robb knew Thoros and Beric close enough that they would be searching through each of the rooms for anything that shined. They were a band of refugees, soldiers, and boys who never held a sword before now. They needed gold, and Arya knew them and what they would do for gold.

He slid his hands against doors, most of them were empty. The Frey soldiers were still at Riverrun, but Walder Frey had many more children that roamed his halls. Robb heard the faint cry of a baby.

The scream was louder as he walked forward. Finally it stopped, only to hear the hushing of a mother. The room was pitch black, the lantern glowed a burnt orange til Robb heard the cries again.

So many eyes looked at him in fear. Robb was the monster in their nightmares that had come to take their home away. A babe screaming his lungs out til his mother pulled him beside her. She was crying as well, Roslin was pale as snow when she saw Robb.

Her son, with the bright orange hair and watery blue eyes stared back at him. The boy had the same wide eyed look as Edmure. Roslin clung to her son in fear Robb would dare to hurt a child.
"You should all go to Riverrun. Your men are there, you don't want to be here. His father is there as well." Robb said staring at Roslin and the boy.

Most of them were confused, they expected to be beaten and killed for sharing the name Frey. Robb ushered them out, and Roslin stopped before leaving. "I didn't know, honestly. My father... He's a cruel man. She was pretty, your wife. You looked happy." She spoke quietly.

He didn't know what to say, instead of speaking he changed the subject and sent them to the stables. Roslin's words weren't memories. Memories were supposed to make you want to smile, his only kept him awake.

Why couldn't Robert just choose a different fucking Hand of the King, he thought. They would all be alive. His head was pounding wanting the woods witch and her words to be gone. Blood child, how Robb would bring death wherever he walked.

Robb was thinking about it all, he couldn't even hear the person following him. When he did it was too late. Again, he felt the blade wrapped around his neck. "You're coming with me wolf King."

Robb didn't object he followed as the sweaty soldier ushered him out towards the bridge. "Would you look at that, the King in the North is following my orders. ME, ha!" Two times he went to the Twins, and two times this would happen again.

GreatJon had joined the rest of them outside, he barely used his sword, mostly his fists and teeth. His eyes widened and grew angry at the sight of them. The rain crashed down on them, the river slappped against the towers like a strike of lightning, so harsh.

"You don't want to do that boy. Too many of us, and too little of you." Blackfish walked forward raising his sword. That only made the Frey angry, and pulled the knife closer. Robb could feel the skin break and the small trail of blood trickling down his neck.

"I have the knife, you walk any more I'll cut his throat. I mean it!" GreatJon laughed at him, he wasn't trying to ease the boy's anger. Blood dripped down to Robb's forehead, only it wasn't his.

He could see the tiny shape of the sword pierce through his captor's neck. The hole was tiny enough for blood to come draining down and the Frey boy was gagging. Robb felt a push that knocked the body down on top of him.

Robb fell to the edge, the sharp corner landed perfectly onto his head to make hi groan. He tried catching his balance, but his feet had doubled and Robb was walking over nothing. It burned when he fell in the water.

He gasped for air once it touched his body. It was so cold, Robb's fingers tingled and the water kept splashing back down his throat. His head was throbbing and his arms felt numb. Robb tried to kick, but the current was too strong. Instead he just floated and his armor dragged him down.

The saltwater had mixed unpleasantly with the blood from his wound. It burned when they clashed together. At one point, he was sinking lower until he couldn't hold his breath longer. The last he saw was red, so much red.

"He's awake, finally. Enjoy your nap?" Daario stood over him. He could hear small birds singing, and a grey sky. Arya waited next to him, cleaning the blood off her sword.

"Where are we?" Robb whispered. His voice was dry, his throat felt as if it was a desert full of sand. He rose up, but almost fell from his dizziness. Arya pulled him forward. Dry blood had turned to a brown crust on his head.

"Somewhere in this shit stain of a country. I'm not really sure, we just follow your friends." The sellsword looked around in disgust. The Riverlands weren't like this, he thought. The air was humid and moist. The ground had a wetness to it, and the rocks were covered in moss.

"The Neck? How, we just left the Twins?" They were surrounded by swamps. No one could find their way through the Neck usually, only the Northerners.

Blackfish walked forward to greet Robb. "Aye, we left the Twins, but that was days ago Your Grace. That blow to your head knocked you out for a few days. The only reason you are here is because the giant carried you most of the way." He said pointing to GreatJon happily eating by the fire.

"Light as a feather. I used to carry my son around when he was a boy." GreatJon's laughter shrunk to memories and sadness. He through his food back and stood again, preparing.

"We should leave soon Your Grace, we sent the bastard to GreyWater Watch while you were unconcious. We figured Howland would help take back Winterfell as well, if we can find the man."

This lower part of the North was like a jungle, one step wrong and you could be lost. GreyWater Watch was in the center of it all. His father always spoke of how Lord Reed was his closest friend. He said he had saved his life several times during Robert's Rebellion.

"So Sansa is there? You're sure." Arya approached him, she was the opposite of her sister but she had a look of hope thinking of seeing her.

"That's what they told me. Jon too." Her grey eyes widened in delight. When Robb heard it in his mind, he wondered. He never thought Jon would leave the Night's Watch, but his brother would do anything for his family.

"We're going to get Rickon back, I promise you. We'll all be together soon." He vowed, assuring Arya. For a moment he thought his mother stood next to him, he had said almost those exact words to her. Only he failed her, he wouldn't do that again to his sister.

They had few horses, so the sound of hooves trotting across the ground were noticeable. A dozen men came riding, he spotted Gendry through the lot of them.

"We couldn't find it. We just kept walking in circles. The swamp could suck us down if we stepped in the wrong spot. We should leave this place." Gendry had panic in his voice and was sweating.

Arya charged at him, her fists were tiny compared to his. "I told you to come with me! I could have been your family, but NO I would be M'lady!" Every time she spoke she would swing at him. Hot Pie and Robb were the first to seperate them.

Robb pulled his sister back only she elbowed his head where it still ached. "Now you're HERE serving my brother?! I could have helped you, the Red Woman wouldn't have taken you. You're stupid!"

She finally stopped hitting and scratching. Gendry's face had turned red with marks in the shape of Arya's hands. "I missed you too." She rolled her eyes and turned back towards Robb.

House Reed was small, even if they did find Howland he may not have been much help. Robb only spoke what he was thinking, not about the consequence. "Let's head home!" He cheered, most of them yelled with him.

The wind hit them hard, they all were heading north the current pushed them down. Robb's hands turned raw red and they burned. His father always told them, but none of them knew when winter would come.

"We smell like a swamp's arse." Patrek Mallister complained. While finding their way through the Neck, the ground was all moss. The moss covered the water hidden, most of them didn't notice until the murky water went into their mouths.

"Your sister's letter, it spoke of your half brother leading the men to Winterfell. They're your men, you should be leading them instead of a bastard." Robb stopped and turned to Blackfish. Jon may have been baseborn, but he was still his brother.

"He's my brother, if he hadn't done any of this I would still be in Meereen." His uncle seemed unpleased with Robb's answers.

"Aye, I won't argue with you Your Grace, but your mother never trusted the boy. She may be right for all we know." His mother never accepted Jon, she shunned him, loathed him, just because his name was Snow.

"My mother disliked Jon because he had a different mother. Who Jon was had nothing to do with her hatred." Blackfish mumbled under his breath, but didn't argue.

The ground cracked at their feet, Robb chuckled to himself. The cold brushed through his body, and the snow blew through his hair. The ice cracked under his boots, he hadn't felt this in a long time.

Robb kept laughing, most of them looked at him like he was mad and he probably was. He cup the snowflakes in his hands as they melted away. Grey Wind howled beside him, and he ran into the snow. Even his wolf had excitement, they were almost home.

Chapter Text

ALOHA READERS!!! I'm back and it's time for some fun stuff... :) With fall arriving I got some ideas and VOILA here it it! Hope you like it and pretty please with Frey Pies on top, comment and tell me what you think of it! :) X

Robb:

He was alone, surrounded by an empty field that went on for thousands of leagues. The grass had turned dry and bitter. A leaf flew towards him, a red one.

His father always called them heart trees. More leaves blew, so he follow them. The horizon was empty, Robb just kept walking til he could find something.

He finally stopped, only to catch his breath. His eyes shut for a second, not even and there it was. The grey stones of Winterfell, unchanged and thriving, before he went south.

Robb opened his mouth to laugh and a gust of wind flew through him. He charged wanting to walk through the gates and see them again, but he knew he wouldn't.

The gates were untouched, he was so close he could almost hear the howling of a wolf. His fingers went towards the stone, and they went right through. Robb's arms were wet, and water rippled in the reflection of Winterfell.

His mind was tricking him, he should have known it wasn't real. Robb crashed his arms into the stones wanting them to hurt, to know it was real. Only the water splashed back at him, and Winterfell collapsed.

Smoke rose from the towers, burning through the walls and turning to ash. The towers that stood as high as the clouds collapsed. The only thing he could hear was screams, so many voices.

"Don't you want to teach little Ned Stark to ride horses?" He knew that voice. Robb would have smiled to that voice. He wanted to walk away, but he would never, not to her.

She looked the same, not a day went by, she still looked so beautiful. Her hair had a messy braid brushed through it, and an apron wrapped around her covered in blood. He wanted to chuckle, that was what she looked when they met.

Robb walked forward, to see the babe she cradled with her. It gurgled happily, it was so small and frail like glass. He stretched his arms to see him, to see Talisa, only he was pushed back.

He tried to walk, only walls, a mirror separated them. Robb was fuming with anger, he was tired of all the tricks. He threw his fists against harder, waiting for glass to pierce through his skin.

Robb wanted it all to be real, he wanted to feel actual pain not for it all to be a hallucination. The glass cracked, only his hands didn't bleed. He wanted something to happen, anything at all.

He fists slammed and thrust until ice and snow went falling down on him. Robb wiped the snow out of his eyes, and his shirt was wet. It was dripping with blood. His head turned up, and soon he regretted doing that.

Her stomach bled again, the same bloody clothes and the same lifeless face. Robb remembered his exact movements, he fell to his knees to catch her.

He pressed his hands onto her, to stop the blood. There was no wound, just more blood. Robb cradled her again, just like she cradled their baby. He lowered his head to her hair, she looked so real.

"You said you'd come home." A voice echoed. Robb turned quickly to see no one. He realized looking down, Talisa was nowhere and her blood that laid on his hands was gone. It wasn't enough time, he finally saw her and she was taken away again.

"You said you'd bring her home. Both of them, and now they're dead." The air whispered to him again. It was so small, like a childs. Robb turned and the voice spoke again.

"They're dead, they're all dead." A boy stared back at him. His face was disfigured, skin flayed til it turned pink. Robb could only see the bright blue eyes looking back at him.

"What are you?" His voice was unsettling looking at the boy. He wore furs of the North, but he didn't look highborn. The boy's hair was ragged and longer, he had the looks of a wildling.

"How could you not remember? Look at me, look at me!" His whole body shook, and he tried running into Robb. His peeled face staring back at him with sadness.

The boy's ears tilted slightly like a rabbit. He panicked and starting running. "They found me you have to help me! Help me!" He screamed almost choking on his own words. He started running straight until he stopped to look at the sky.

A rain of arrows were being shot down on them, only none hit Robb. The boy started running to Robb. He ran straight towards him, the arrows were getting closer to hitting him.

Robb reached his hand to pull the boy forward, he was so close. They could almost touch fingertips. The arrow pierced straight through him, blood filled into the boys mouth. He was so young, not even a man yet.

Robb put his hand on his chest, trying to stop the blood from gushing out. There was so much his hands turned a deep crimson. Robb could hear the his last gasp of air from his lungs, and he knew it was too late.

He looked away for a second and the boy was gone, but ice blue eyes stared back at him. Rickon looked so old, but he was different. He was frozen like a statue, and his eyes were monsterous and scale as pale as curdled milk.

The arrow still stood in his chest still, Rickon pulled it out with no pain doing it. His head turned to Robb, marched forward and stared at him. He stretched his arms and wrapped them around his neck.

Robb gasped and gagged, but he was too strong. Whatever it was it wasn't his brother. His hands tightened and Robb's head felt it would pop like a berry being squeezed.

He felt so dizzy, his arms were going weak and they tingled.The last things he saw were the his brother's frozen face and the cry of a dragon flying towards them.

"Rob-" Something grabbed him, his instincts were to grab his sword and he did. He swung and clashed against bark of the tree. Arya backed away quick enough before his blade would hit her.

She gasped and had a look of confusion and anger. She took two steps back from him, his sister didn't trust him. "What is wrong with you?! You were falling behind and I came to get you!"

It all seemed so real. He touched his neck, no marks or bruises. "I'm sorry... I didn't think this was real..." His voice was so slow and dry.

"Real?! You think THIS isn't real? Look around, this is real life. People die if you act stupid!" She kept hitting him until Robb held her hands. Arya was still smaller than him.

Arya was right, very. She never told him much about where she had been all this time or what she had seen. His sister seemed broken in a way.

Her grey eyes softened to him. "We're getting close. I heard them talking about camps nearby." She murmured. Arya turned back and walked forward, Gendry waited ahead for her.

They were finally there, all the times he spent wanting to come home he would be soon. Only Winterfell and it's people are gone, now it's filled with traitors and bastards. The Boltons and the rest of the North would know they're here soon.

The camp was small, no one stopped them from entering. Wildlings filled most of the land, he could tell by their furs. The flayed boy wore the same in his day dream.

A man the size of GreatJon stared at them as they entered. He had a fiery red hair and beard and an ax on his side. "Wildling scum on our land." Robb heard one muttered. They went farther in.

A woman dressed in a blood red cloak with matching red hair stared back at him, her eyes widened and watched Robb's every move. The red haired wildling stepped forward again, the size of him scared the horses.

"What do you southerners need here?" He roared staring at them in disgust. GreatJon growled like a wild animal back at him. The Umbers who lived so close to the Wall always had the first hits of the wildling raids.

Before anyone could stop them, GreatJon and the wildling were already face to face. "We're no southerners. This is our home you're in, you should have stayed on your side of the wall." He spat back at them.

They both screamed at each other to cause more tension, more people noticed them. They shut their mouths when Grey Wind came forward to them and snapped his jaws at them. GreatJon remembered the last time he had an encounter with his wolf.

"Who are you?" He stared back at Grey Wind, he was familiar with a direwolf. Grey Wind's ears tilted, a wolf howled in the distance. He began to howl back, only running through the rest of the camp.

Robb could see the white fur circling them all, and red eyes staring back. Jon's wolf had been the runt, he looked the biggest of them all now. Arya stepped forward, searching for them.

"Where are they?" She spoke to Robb, that time he saw black hair. The flaps of a tent opened, a tall lad with dark hair and grey eyes looked around. Jon was too far, he couldn't see them but Robb could.

His father wore a similar cloak, Jon was always more of their father's son. Jon saw the army standing back at them, he marched forward to greet them. When he finally got close enough, Robb stepped forward.

His dark eyes widened and his sullen face had a look of shock and confusion when they stood across from each other. For some reason, Robb felt like laughing.

"Snow." Robb bowed and greeted him. They both were serious, but only for a second. They both laughed at the sight of each other, Jon pulled him tightly forward.

He hadn't seen his brother since he left for the Night's Watch. That was when their home was theirs and the North was ruled by the Starks.

Arya stepped forward, she caught sight of Jon. She turned into a little girl rushing to her brother jumping into his arms. They were always the closest of his siblings.

The tent was pushed open again. A woman stepped forward, dressed in black and grey furs with the direwolf sewed onto her dress. She stood straight and poised like a queen. Her fiery red hair laid on her shoulder in a braid.

No, it couldn't be, Robb thought. The last he saw her she was a girl who would sew and sing her songs. It couldn't be Sansa, he thought. Her face was stern walking amongst all the soldiers.

Sansa seemed more of a soldier than any of them, her armor was her dress and she was made of steel. She looked for Jon to see what had happened. A small smile grew on her lips when she saw the Tully men.

Robb was the first to walk forward, he finally got her attention. Her blue eyes weakened, she looked as her armor had melted. Sansa had the looks of the girl he said goodbye to years ago.

He had no words, Robb stuttered slightly. "You.. You got bigger." Those were the only words he could come up with fully. It was enough for her, Sansa jumped to him wrapping her arms around him so tightly almost choking him.

She breathed heavily, not knowing what to say to him. Robb kept her from falling on the ground, she barely moved. He could hear the sniffling from her voice and her hands shaking. Sansa didn't speak, but Robb understood fully.

Robb once stood in an exact tent like this. Before it was to free his father, his sisters, the North. Now he sat in a room trying to free his brother and fighting for his own home.

When he thought of Winterfell, he thought of the bastard that lurked in their halls. The ghosts used to be the last Kings of the North in their crypts, now they were Ser Rodrik, Maester Luwin and the rest of the household.

He thought of Theon sacking Winterfell, and Ramsay Snow abusing his sister. Sansa wouldn't speak of it, but Jon mentioned some. Robb tossed the letter from Ramsay into the fire. The pink wax melted onto the ink smudging the words til he couldn't read them.

Come and see, come and see me rape your sister, see my dogs devour your little brother. They were coming, and they will see the flayed man banners be torn down and burned.

Jon had explained most of their plans, most of the men around him didn't respect his ideas. They looked to Robb, they always looked to him. "When do we fight?" Robb asked.

"Ramsay sent an envoy, he wants to meet at sun rise." Robb scuffed at Jon. The bastard won't be surrendering, he wants to have a look at their army. Sansa sat behind them, Robb could see her face upleased by their plans.

"My son, what of him?" GreatJon bellowed to them. He heard all their plans, except SmallJon's status. He couldn't think of his son betraying house Stark. Rickon went to the Umbers for safety, only to be imprisoned and sent to enemies.

"Your forces have sided with Ramsay, under SmallJon's orders. He brought Rickon to him." Jon spoke sullenly. GreatJon was enraged, he sighed and slammed his fists on the table. The little figures of the direwolves and flayed men shook.

"No, no, NO! I keep hearing that, but that's not my son. Someone's lying, they're tricking you or something. The bastard is lying, he could be a hostage." He was desperate looking for a reason. He turned to the men looking for help.

"If he was a hostage we would have known Lord Umb-" Jon tried to explain.

"Oh don't tell me what you know. I don't need to listen to a bastard born in the south." GreatJon spat back with fury. Jon had a look of annoyance, Robb would be too if he had to hear that over and over again.

"You and your house swore allegiance to house Stark my Lord. My brother may not share my name, but he is a Stark." Robb stopped GreatJon from speaking anymore. He grunted slightly and began to stand.

"I'm going with you at dawn. I want to see this bastard for myself." He roared like the giant he was. He lowered his head to leave the tent. Most of the men let soon after.

"You've drawn up your men and your battle plans, now you'll meet the monster soon." Sansa approached the table looking down at the man.

"Aye I suppose." She was unpleased by Jon's words. Every time they spoke of the battle Sansa's reaction was unfulfilled.

"You've read one letter, and now you and your trusted advisors sit around making plans on how to defeat a man you don't know." The truth was finally cracked open from under his sister's honor.

"You're right, explain what we need to know." Robb entered the conversation. Jon still sat silently looking down.

"He plays with people. He's far better at it than any of us, he's been doing it for his whole life." Sansa explained. Jon rose from his seat and stood to Sansa face to face.

"Aye and what have we been doing, sitting around and playing. I've fought beyond the Wall against worse than Ramsay Bolton. I've defended the Wall from worse than Ramsay Bolton."

Sansa was tired of them. Robb and Jon didn't understand him, she did. He wanted to understand for her, but she was right he didn't. "What would you have us do to save Rickon."

She didn't speak for a few seconds and sighed deeply. Her blue eyes lost it's brightness and turned dark, but shined like steel.

"We'll never get him back. He's Ned Starks trueborn son, he's a danger to Ramsay's claim. Higher than you a bastard, you who everyone thinks is dead, and me a girl. As long as he lives, Ramsay's claim will always be questioned, which means he won't live long."

Jon had rage and disbelief towards Sansa, but she was right again. As long as the Starks live, Ramsay Snow will never be the true lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"I know nothing of war, but I know if we waited before marching and gathered more men we could have a better chance with Ramsay's forces."

"And what would you have us do Sansa. You went to more houses, and they hid in fear of the Boltons. The Blackfish's army came, we have enough men to march." Robb said. His voice was harsh towards her.

"It's not enough!" She explained. It was all they had, battles had been won with less. Sansa wanted an army of thousands, but they didn't have it. His sister sighed and her eyes watered slightly, but they dried even faster.

"You do know that if we lose I won't be going back to Winterfell alive. None of us will. You can say I'll be protected, but no one can protect me." She tightened her furs close to her skin and pushed the flaps out to her tent.

"You do know she's right." Robb spoke briefly. Jon nodded, laying his hands on his head not knowing what to do. He wanted to laugh, because he did the exact position only Robb was in Riverrun.

A man came in, he was one of Jon's advisors. Not the red beared man, it was the one who wore a bag around his neck. Jon spoke of how he was one of Stannis' men.

Robb didn't have an anger towards him, he shouldn't. He never met Stannis, they weren't enemies. He was probably Robert's only heir to the Iron Throne, he thought. "Forgive me if I'm interrupting, but she demanded entry."

She pulled her cloak out of her face, the red woman stared back at him. She approached Robb with caution. Her red eyes stared back at him, and her necklace glowed and beat like a heart and blood pulsed through it.

"I remember you, I saw you in my flames. I put the leaches into the fire, you saw it Ser Davos. Yet you're still here, I feel the fire burning through you. Burning the same as Jon Snow." She walked forward reaching her hand out, but Robb stepped back.

She stared back at both Jon and Robb, and clicked her tongue. "There aren't many followers of the Lord of Light in Westeros. Who did it?" The woman crossed her arms looking down at his chest, she knew just looking at him.

There was no reason to lie, he thought. "Thoros of Myr. Who is this woman?" He changed the subject. She seemed unimpresed by the name. Even this far North, someone knew of the drunken red priest.

"Melisandre, a red priestess and was part of Stannis Baratheon's court." The man with onions on his sigil spoke sullenly.

"I follow wherever Jon Snow goes now." She kept staring at Robb, fascinated. She walked towards him face to face, grabbing his cheeks like a child.

"I see eyes looking at me, eyes that will smile, laugh, and cry for you. Fire, fire will burn right through it all." Robb pushed her hands away. Most of them stared at her in silence, she sounded like the woods witch.

She back away from him, turning back to Jon and then Robb again. Once she left, the two brothers stood surrounding the table. Jon sighed looking down at it all, he was out of his place. "Is she right, will this be a slaughter?"

"All battle is a slaughter. The Boltons have six thousand you said, we have three, four thousand? Battles have been won with less." He admitted. Jon poured two cups of wine and slid one towards Robb.

He was tempted. Robb couldn't remember the last time he had drank any. Most times they were marching and he mostly drank water. He might die tomorrow, he might as well remember the taste one last time.

It had a thick syrup taste in it, his eyes cringed slightly when his tongue touched. It was colder than Robb remembered, the sun in Meereen usually baked on it until it was scalding. Robb missed the taste, and the dulling of the senses.

"I can't picture him, Rickon. When I went North for the wall, he was six. I keep thinking he'll look the same, not aged since we left." Jon was smiling when he spoke. It was rare to see that, but his face turned stern again.

"When the Greyjoys took the North and I got the letter about Winterfell, I tried to forget. I tried forgetting them all, the only thing I focused on was winning that war. Every time I thought about Bran or Rickon, I'd blame myself and get angry. I swore I would go to war and kill armies just to bring them back, and now here we are." He sipped more of his wine.

Robb wasn't sure if it was the wine making his mind fuzzy or because he was with his brother to tell someone that. He wanted to tuck it away and hide the shame. Jon lowered his head down to his cup.

"Do you think we'll get him back?" Jon was doubting himself. Robb didn't answer, they just sat silently listening to the wind blow.

They arrived first. Plans were to be made at dawn, most of them didn't sleep the night before. Robb tried to, he just kept staring at the top of his tent. His eyes burned slightly looking at the sunrise.

Sansa insisted on joining, she wanted to face the monster and show she didn't fear him. Bannermen stood behind them, they were brave to stand up to the Boltons. Some would call them traitors, but they're more loyal than any southerner.

Grey Wind and Ghost stood boldly next to them. Sansa had a sad look when she saw them, thinking of Lady probably. Her eyes widened and she stood high when the pink man banners were in sight.

They dragged someone behind their horses. Robb gripped his sword, they could get Rickon back without a battle he thought.

He finally got a look of the bastard, his eyes were the color of ice. They all stood silent just looking at each other. That was until Ramsay's lips turned up with a sinister smile.

"Brothers! My beloved wife, I've missed you terribly." He greeted them. The bastard's happiness disturbed Robb. Sansa stood tall and proud, like the queen she wanted to be.

"Thank you for returning, Lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your armies, your crown, and proclaim me true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

He stared back at Jon and Robb for a reaction. He knew what to say to make a man go mad. He turned to the Lords behind them.

"I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous Lords for betraying my house. As for you Robb Stark, well you and your group of outlaws will return south to face your treasonous consequences."

Robb could hear Blackfish cussing under his breath, and he could already tell without looking Lyanna Mormont was giving her murderous stares. None of them spoke. He seemed to be growing bored, and angry.

"Come men, you don't have the men, and you don't have Winterfell. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? I'll even pardon your people and release them to your grey waste you call home." The bastard spoke, looking back to the men.

"The boy is our Lord, not our friend bastard." Blackfish spat at him. Ramsay chuckled staring at each of them as if they were simple minded.

"Oh you think I mean? Oh no no no no no, I've grown fond of my good brother. Maybe take him on as a ward." His pale blue eyes smiling at them all.

Sansa never stopped staring at him. "How do we know you have him?" He turned to her, he had the look of a monster children fear from. With a wave of his hand, a black blur was tossed to them.

Shaggydog, Rickon had chosen that name for him. His black fur was the color of midnight, and bright eyes as green as grass. Now all that was left of him was a wolf's head, shaved and eyes gouged out. It was rather small for a direwolf, he thought.

"As I said before surrender now and I can release your friend. The great giant of Last Hearth! Bring SmallJon out to see his friends." Ramsay commanded. SmallJon was being pulled on rope, like a leash.

GreatJon began to jump from his horse, Blackfish and Wendel Manderly pulled him back from killing Ramsay then and there. SmallJon was confused looking around at everyone. He was in chains and on his knees, but still was the tallest of them all.

They had beaten him til he was bloody. His head had a festering gash on the side. He turned to see Robb and his eyes widened, and began laughing at them all. "You're alive? HA!" He spotted Harrion Karstark walk forward to kick SmallJon back to the ground.

"Young Lord Umber and his group of traitors tried to overthrow my house. They brought me a Stark only to try and take MY castle. No need to worry GreatJon, we've kept him warm. Your trusted soldiers had thick skin, they could be used as a cloak that's how great they were!"

He waved his arm and they tossed it forward. SmallJon resisted when they pulled it on him. The skin had begun to rot and blood sunk onto his skin. Robb cringed at the sight, the men tried to fight for his family only to be killed by a traitor.

SmallJon started laughing at them again. "What can I say bastard, the North remembers. You think you're so fucking smart, now look at you! HA! You'll die soon enough, you were even too stupid to realize that wasn't the real w-"

The blade pushed through his throat, SmallJon gasped and fell to the ground. "NO!" GreatJon roared with all his might, falling to his son's side. Blood rose through his mouth, he was choking.

Sansa was the only one to speak, "You're going to die tomorrow for this, Lord Bolton. Sleep well." She kicked her horse and rode back to camp.

"My wife, I'll be so happy once she returns to sharing my bed." He looked down at GreatJon trying to stop SmallJon's wound.

"Remember that next time, I won't be so merciful. We fight in the morning then. My dogs are quite excited to meet you, I haven't fed them in seven days. I wonder what parts they'll get to first, your eyes or perhaps your balls!"

He gave one last grin before he rode back towards Winterfell, their home. Robb's knuckles burned from gripping his sword for so long. "GET A MAESTER SOMEONE!" GreatJon screamed. There was too much blood, SmallJon's gasps were smaller every breath.

You could hear the small breath that flew away with the wind. GreatJon roared like the giant on his banners. It was so loud they could hear it in Dorne. Robb jumped from his horse, he knelt down to him.

Robb lifted his hand to press SmallJon's eyes closed. He looked down to the ground. "Everyone will know he died a hero. He truly was." He didn't know what to say. He and Jon both called him a traitor, when he was trying to take back Winterfell for them.

"Don't touch my son! You, you all called him traitor and look what he did for you. LOOK WHAT HE DID!" GreatJon pushed them all away. Only he would go near him. He was the one to lift SmallJon's body onto the cart, and he was the one to mourn for his son.

The sun had just set, the sky was already dark. Most of them didn't speak since their meeting with Ramsay. Sansa was right, they didn't know him. Ramsay Snow was always one step ahead of them.

"He won't let anyone near the pyre. Poor man, losing his only son and to see it with his own eyes." He could hear them whispering at GreatJon. Everytime people walked forward to his funeral pyre, Umber would try and beat them with the torch.

Robb pushed them aside to walk towards him. GreatJon's knees wiggled about to collapse. He had stood their for hours standing over SmallJon. "We will avenge him I swear GreatJon. Ramsay Snow will pay for it."He had given up fighting them, now he just knelt in the snow. Not caring to listen.

"I wasn't a good father to him. His mother, she was, she was better at this. She was better at everything, I swear it. King Robert chose your aunt Lyanna, I would have fought ten wars for her. When she died, we were all alone. I started paying attention to him when he could hold a sword, the rest was all her."

Robb never saw this side of GreatJon before, he never heard of SmallJon's mother or who she was. His face saddened when he thought of her, he sighed and toughened his giant like face. "You spoke of this dragon queen, I'll kneel and call her queen. Only if you show no mercy and none of that Stark honor, kill him."

"I swear it, by the Old Gods and the New, he will die. Your son won't die for nothing." GreatJon nodded to Robb's words.

He looked down to SmallJon one last time, saying goodbye to his son. He let go of the torch, and the night's darkness lit up in flames.

Chapter Text

I’m baaaacckkkk…… Missed me? I’ve been missing inspiration on what to write. Sorry for going AWOL and hopefully waits will never be that long again. This chapter is the battle of the bastards, full of crazy stuff and a long one to make up for my absence. Hope you like it, and comment and tell me what you think. X

Sansa:

She didn't sleep most of the night. Her heart had a strange beat to it when she thought of the day. She mostly watched her hands, they shook and her palms sweat thinking about it all.

She twisted and turned, regretting her letter to Littlefinger and other times hoping he would agree to bring the Knights of the Vale. Sansa wasn't going to be a stupid little girl anymore. She may not have trusted him, but he had thousands of soldiers at his back that could be hers.

When Sansa finally heard horns, she jumped from her cot. She didn't leave her room though, she would just stare. She pushed the flaps of her tent open slightly just to see them. The soldiers running around preparing, to die.

They wore their steel armor ready to fight, and she wore hers. Her arms had bumps on them, Sansa couldn't tell if it was the wind blowing from under the cracks of her tent, or thinking of how many soldiers they had.

The warmth of her ebony gown when she slipped it on was a soothing feeling. Her furs fell onto her shoulders, and brushed against her neck. The light, cool, grey fur reminded her of Lady. She smiled thinking about her.

Jon and Robb's wolves followed them around throughout the camp, they acted as if they were soldiers as well. Lady wouldn't have done that, she was gentle and kind. She wouldn't hurt a soul. Now Lady is dead, with everyone else.

She remembered wanting to wear her hair like the southern ladies thinking she would be Joffrey's Queen one day. She now wanted a simple braid to hold her hair back. Sansa wanted to marry him, she was so stupid back then.

Most of the people around her treated her as if she had no reason here because she is a woman. Others stared at her with pity, having survived Joffrey and Ramsay. Not to forget, Sansa would be considered an orphan.

The only reason they even gave her the slightest amount of attention was because she was Ned Stark's daughter. The Lords around her paid attention to Jon or Robb.

Sansa watched more than speaking to any of them. She watched how soldiers were split into two. The wildlings came for Jon, and only Jon. The northerners fought for justice and Robb. They failed bringing her father back alive, they wanted victory for Ned Stark's oldest son and their King.

They all forget who convinced Jon to march on Winterfell. Everyone thought Robb was dead, but all this time he ran to the East. Sansa cried when she heard about the Twins, only to find out he left and didn't care about them.

She loved her brother, but his choices were selfish. Even the Blackfish follows Robb's orders when it was Sansa's, not Jon and or Robb, it was Sansa who sent him the raven. She didn't want to be a simple lady being silent, she had a voice as well. They would soon hear it.

Sansa fastened her cloak and straightened her back to prepare to walk out. Her face stiffened as she left the safe place of her tent. Her boots crushed the snow that had begun to lay on the ground.

She could see Arya sitting by a campfire cleaning her sword. All these years she still managed to hold onto that, she thought. Sansa felt relief when they arrived at the camp, but they didn't have much to say.

Arya was her sister, but they were always different from one another. They were both glad each of them were alive, they still barely talked.

Her sister sat next to a fat boy who smelled of pie, and a tall dark haired boy. He was like her shadow; following, watching, making sure she didn't do anything stupid to get herself killed. Sansa watched them all, the black haired boy was always somewhere near Arya.

Sansa mounted her horse, and trotted forward to look. She could see the cold grey walls, and the red leaves sticking out from the top of Winterfell. When she look at what was her home, she didn't see memories, she saw Ramsay's pale eyes and the sound of his sinister laugh.

When Jon first agreed to march on Winterfell, he swore Ramsay would never touch her again. He promised to kill him for her. It will be a battle of the bastards, Sansa thought. It will be one to remember. She turned back to the camp, waiting.

Jon:

The strap on his cloak had torn, that's all he kept thinking. Everything was running by him and that was all he could think was the cloak was torn. Sansa couldn't fix it in time, he was tempted to just leave it behind.

The cloak looked like his father's, it was one thing he had being close enough a Stark. Jon sighed and tossed the furs down and hurried out. It was cold, but he didn't mind. That was something he had of being one of them.

The Free Folk followed him, the rest looked to Robb. The name Snow wasn't worthy to GreatJon or the rest of them. He knew his brother didn't do it on purpose, but he was still a bastard to them.

Jon and Robb used to spar in the courtyards of Winterfell as boys, now they wore steel and would be fighting their own people. The men spoke of taking back the North and getting revenge, but the real threat was nothing of this.

Soldiers who were to die today will just be an army of the dead. They didn't understand it, it bothered him how they just ignored the warnings. The Boltons and theirs commbined, would be nothing against the White Walkers.

He gripped Longclaw to get used to the feeling, to thrust and swing the Valyrian sword at someone. This was a battle; not against the dead, nor wildlings trying to get over the wall, this was the game he always heard of. The game that can kill you, one wrong step. They were in the great game.

Jon made sure that Melisandre knew of his plans. He did not want to be brought back. He didn't want to go back there, once he dies he is dead. He should be dead now, but his wishes weren't answered before when he was around traitors.

The dead haunted his thoughts. They roamed throughout his mind, tricking him. Everywhere he walked he saw them.

Jon shook a soldier bloody swearing he was Grenn. He swore he could hear Pyp's laugh walking by a boy. He thought of his mother, his father promised to tell him about her when they saw eachother again. They never did after their last talk.

Sansa looked like Lady Catelyn, it was frightening. The auburn hair, most of his siblings had, but Sansa was her twin. Her glares were identical, Jon thought he was a boy in Winterfell when she stared at them all.

She may have hated Jon for being Ned Stark's son, but he didn't hate her. He saw her sheds of kindness towards others, but not him. He remembered her one time of weakness when he said goodbye to Bran while he slept.

His memories when he was younger faded over time, but Jon didn't forget some. He once laid sick with a fever, he remembered the aches in his bones and the gasps in his breath. His eyes opened a few times, but he remember Lady Stark there with him, every time weaving something he couldn't remember what.

Jon may die today, they all might. If he was to die, he would have wanted to see Sam first. He was probably his closest friend, but they hadn't seen each other in months. Jon hoped Sam had reached the Citadel, he would have like to see the look on his face when he entered the library he always spoke about.

They didn't have any maesters to save them, one bad wound and they're dead. Sam would become a maester soon enough, they were going to need more of them once winter comes. His father always said it, now it was really setting in.

The sellswords Robb arrived with were a good amount. It would help them with their numbers against the Boltons. They were foreigners from the east who didn't fight for them, they fought for the lust of blood on their swords and gold in their pockets.

Robb spoke of a deal he made with a Targaryen. A Targaryen, Jon thought. Perhaps this Queen might not be mad and believe them of the threats coming soon. She still shares the name Targaryen as the rest of them, she may be too focused on fighting in the south.

Jon strided throughout the camps, preparing and waiting for the horns to blow. He hadn't seen Ghost that day, it was odd. The last he saw the direwolf, he was racing towards the Wolfswood howling.

He decided it would be better to leave Ghost at the camps, Grey Wind would wait there as well. Knowing the Boltons ways, his sisters may need protection and a direwolfs teeth were sharping than any blade.

Men started yelling, it was time. Horses neighed with all the running, they knew it as well. Jon pulled Longclaw from its sheath and kept it so close to him the handle made a mark on his hip.

Jon spotted Robb with Grey Wind by his side. With only a look, his wolf already knew he wouldn't be needed now. He was always the fastest of their litter, whenever he ran you only saw silver racing pass them. Just like Ghost, the woods called for him. That was the last he saw of the two direwolves.

Robb met Jon where the horses were tied. They were always friendly rivals in Winterfell, now they would be fighting for each other and their lives. "The next time I see you, it'll be at the gates. If we don't, then don't bring me back." Robb stared at Jon waiting for him to answer.

He wanted to chuckle at how they both thought the same. His brother was hopeful for this battle, Jon would be hopeful for victory once he sees Ramsay Snow dead and buried. He would be hopeful touching the white wood of the Weirwood tree, seeing towers stand over them all, and the grey stones of Winterfell again.

"Aye, we'll see each other at the gates." Jon assured him as they parted ways. It would be the last time they spoke to one another. They'd see each other, but there wouldn't be time for talking.

Their horses strided to the front, Jon looked to Robb one last time before turning their heads towards Winterfell. He chose not to stare at the Boltons, just his home.

He couldn't spot Ramsay at the front, only soldiers, so many soldiers. Finally he saw him, no horse just walking towards them. Jon had to stretch his head forward to see what he carried, rope.

He dragged Rickon like he was an animal on a tether. He was putting on a show for them, every move Ramsay made was for them to watch and not be able to stop him. Finally he lifted the blade, with a grin to join it.

There wasn't a thought in his head, only movement. Jon leaped from the saddle, sprinting closer to them. They were so close, but none of them would be able to reach them. They could only watch.

The blade lowered, missing his neck or head, just the restrains.

Bastard:

They all watched him, he was willing to give them something to remember. Each and every Stark probably had hope and willingness to fight. How pathetic, he thought.

He twisted his hands with his knife dancing as he lowered it down to the boy. He wanted to see the look of fear in their eyes, to hear their hearts beat rapidly thinking their little brother would die. That would be too simple, he thought.

The boy looked at him like he was mad, he might be. He gave a small squeeze to the boy's shoulder and whispered to his ear.

"Do you like games little man, let's play a game. Run to your brothers, they're right over there. The sooner you make it to the, the sooner you can see them. Go on now." He gave a harsh shove to make the boy pick up his speed.

He questioned the Stark boy's mind, was he a halfwit? He just freed him and ushered him to safety and now he just looks at them with a wide eyed look. He was starting to become bored.

"No. You have to run remember, those are the rules." Once the bow fell into his grip, the boy began to run. Now the fun was starting.

Jon:

He was running, he was running with bows coming towards him. "Get me a horse." Jon ran to anyone, Robb came forth and handed him the reins.

Jon looked as if he could fly, with how fast he jumped onto the horse. He pulled the straps and kicked the saddle, but he wasn't going fast enough.

The cold air blew right through his leathers, the snow was crushed and melting as each one fell. Jon could hear Ghost's howls bouncing off the trees the whole time. It echoed over and over throughout the field.

The first arrow flew above them. When Jon gasped, he was choking on the air going down his throat. He stretched his hand, waiting for the moment. The arrow came down on them lower, lower, and lower. It missed.

As fast as the first, another one flew towards them. Jon could smell the burning flesh of the flayed men, he could hear Rickon's gasps of air when running as far as his legs could take. He was getting closer. The second one flew down, heading straight down to his little brother.

If it was a different time, he would laugh and smile seeing Rickon snap the arrow and keep running. Jon's head bobbled back and forth, he might have fallen off if it wasn't for the reins. He stretched far passed the horse's head, one hand on the mane and the other reaching out.

That one moment, they both crossed paths, the one time they both touched fingertips. That one moment when his brother was finally in his grasp, only lasted a moment.

Jon never saw the last arrow, it didn't fly above them, it went straight towards them. Others may say the shot was perfect, the bastard gave them a show and an ending to remember.

Rickon grabbed his hand latching onto Jon, that's when the shot was made. One little prick slicing through his little brothers chest. It was stronger than Jon or any of them, Rickon fell with fear in his eyes and one gasp of air.

Jon, still on his horse looking down to see him. He reached for him, wanting it all to end. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his breaths became less and less. His little brother finally saw Jon the first in years, and it was the last face he saw.

They touched hands, he couldn't wrap what he saw around his brain. He was safe for a second, but it all ended a second later. All was silent, the only thing Jon could hear was his own breathing.

Jon turned his head up to them. He was smiling, smiling at their misery. He didn't even realize his hand was pulling Longclaw from its sheath. He body had taken charge and made choices for him.

His head was empty during that time, his horse had run off from the arrows and Jon stood in an empty field waiting for them to charge. He heard men begin to yell on both sides, it was time.

Jon had one last glimpse of Winterfell, and gave a slight chuckle. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his sword out. That one moment he heard nothing, thought nothing, only waiting for them to come to him.

Robb:

They all watched. They couldn't do anything but watch. They were too far to help and could do nothing. The field was silent full of thousands of eyes wide opened.

Robb stood above the hill watching Jon's horse race across towards Rickon. His heart had an odd beat when each arrow was launched across the sky.

He looked older, Rickon. They said their goodbyes when he was six, just a small little boy. Now from what Robb could see, he had grown. He couldn't imagine what he would look like, he only saw a boy when thinking about Rickon.

Jon and Rickon finally began to reach each other. Robb jumped from his horse sprinting as close as he could see. They reached for each other, he grabbed his arms, and he fell.

No, he couldn't have, he thought. Jon had him, but he fell. The shot quick and smart, and Rickon fell. They saw it all, and could do nothing. Not a sound was made, until the wolves began to howl.

"Robb..." He could hear Blackfish approach with sullen in his voice. Robb didn't answer for a moment. He just watched, thinking his little brother would stand back up, but he never did.

During all the cold air, Robb felt a fiery feeling throughout his whole body. His fists cracked as he gripped them so tight it burned. "Kill them..." He muttered.

He got ahold of himself, staring back to the army of old men, soldiers, wildlings, and they all had the same thought in their minds. "Kill them." He said.

They were still silent, Robb felt like screaming it till their ears burst, until Ser Davos spoke for him. "Well don't just stand there! Prepare to charge!" The onion knight roared with all his might.

That was until the wolves began to howl.

It wasn't Grey Wind, Robb knew his voice. This was deeper, and more wild. It had a touch of sadness. Horns began to blow, but it wasn't theirs nor the Boltons. Everyone had a look of confusion, but hid it well.

Their heads turned towards the Wolfswood, black streaks flew across the trees circling all of them. Robb remembered those green eyes, he was always the wildest of the direwolves.

Ramsay Snow spoke of Shaggydog's skin laid across his bed, but Robb could see his fur black as night right in front of them. The wolf ran across the field with an army at his back.

A small one, a few hundred men all bearing the broken chains and sigils of house Umber. GreatJon shared the same looks everyone else did. Even with SmallJon gone, his plans were for House Stark still.

Jon stood alone. He didn't move or come to get a horse, he just held his sword and waited for them to come. "Start moving and help your commander!" Davos called.

The horses began to run, wildlings screams echoed, and the ground shook when the giant had begun to run. They stretched their swords just crashing right into them, but they still didn't move.

The Boltons watched them run to them like dogs and did nothing. Robb could see the bows begin to launch and the commands being yelled. It almost looked like rain coming down on them, only one touch of this "water" and they die.

He was riding steady and straight, until the ground began to wobble and his horse cried out. The horse had broken his fall, but his leg twisted and turned that made him want to cry out.

Robb wasn't alone, he could he the loud breathing of his snout and the growls whispering in his ear. Shaggydog had anger in his eyes and was distrustful, he wouldn't let him get close enough to the thing he was protecting.

He could see the arrows covering the body, the curls on Rickon's head. The wolf didn't fight, he only sat protecting his brother. Robb reached his hand towards him with caution, Shaggydog snapped at first but he scent drew him closer.

He felt the midnight shade cold against his hand, his growls were at ease. Then came the arrows.

It was only one, not towards Robb though. The shot went right into his eye, Shaggydog didn't even have time to cry out he fell to the ground so fast. The ground made a loud thud when the wolf fell, only to land beside Rickon.

He could see the bastard holding his bow, waiting for Robb's reaction. It was all a game to Ramsay Snow, everything he did was to see the pain in someone's eyes. He wanted all of this, and now it was time.

Robb stiffened his body, tightened the grip on his sword and started walking. His leg was a ball of string, every step he made his leg would tear but he kept walking.

Jon waited a few feet in front of Robb, pulling his sheath from his sword. When he caught up, they both stood there watching the horses kick their hooves and starting to trot. "You're a better sword than me. If something happens, promise his head will be on spikes."

His brother stood still, unflinching towards the herd that was coming straight towards them. "No need to promise." The ground began to shake with the horses running, and men beginning to yell. They separated and the last he saw was Jon's black hair running into the horses.

Robb swung his sword cutting through nothing. The horses clashed into each other, Robb was like Tyrion compared to all the men high above their horses.

The dead started piling. Arrows flew down every time, when they couldn't grab a shield in time they pulled bodies in front of them. Each slice Robb made, mists of blood sprayed across his face. He could taste parts of blood, mud, and dirt in his mouth.

Everything went by so fast, what used to be the ground was full of bloody men and horses. At one point he wasn't looking at their faces, only somewhere his blade could hit. More and more men came running with flayed man banners.

Robb felt the piercing cut of an arrow go straight through his shoulder. Everytime he fought off someone, another one came running up. He didn't have time for the wound, so quickly he groaned and broken off the wooden bolt from his skin.

He could hear in the back of Robb's ear, a cheer of some sort. "WHO HOLDS THE NORTH? WHO HOLDS THE NORTH?! SHOW ME!" He could see the grey sun of KarStark. When he saw Harald KarStark run with his men, he thought of his fathers words; he thought of the title Lord Rickard gave him, "The King who lost the North."

The ground felt like it would crack and all of them would fall down under the surface. The giant greeted them roaring like a bear, stepping on men like they were ants. Robb cold hear the quishing sound they made each step he walked.

When KarStarks met them, they ran in circles. It was a pattern, one man held a spear the other a shield. They were all surrounded by pink, flayed men.

Robb could hear the hymns of their marches, every few steps they would push their blades deeper in the circle. He could hear the screams and the bodies drop. They had nowhere to go.

He could see the giant, tossing the men like they were light as feathers. The more he took the down, more came forward with spears. Tormund fought them, and groaned when the spears had gotten his leg. Robb helped them pull him back, because there few of them and so many spears.

The mountain of dead had taken down their circle, so they started climbing it. Some men were still dying, as people crushed them with their boots. When they had risen high enough, KarStarks greeted them with swords to knock them back down.

He could see the back of Jon's head, falling under men just walking over him. Robb tried to get to him, but the crowds separated them. He tried looking, but the giant's roar of pain and exhaustion had caught everyone's attention.

Dozens of arrows and spears filled the giant's body, and his legs began to give. He wobbled and tripped and they all started running. Robb could hear men on all sides start to scream, warning them all.

"MOVE!" He heard them yell. Everyone began pushing each other, climbing over the dead, it was every man for themselves. Robb looked to see if Jon made it out, but he couldn't find him. He had a chance to get away, but he ran back towards the giant to find Jon.

Robb pulled men's heads up to find him, but none matched his brother. All he could see was the red bearded wildling pulled a limping man from the ground. They caught eyes for a second, Robb and Jon, but it all went black when the final stands of the giant had collapsed. He could only hear the muffled screams.

Everywhere in his body throbbed, every breath he made became harder for the next. Robb could feel the back of the giant's body crushing him. He heard screams on the outside, but no one found him.

He could hear the heartbeat go slowly until the last one faded away. It felt like hours, just trying to move his arms. Half of his arm stretched out beside the body. He could feel the wind blowing straight through his skin.

Blood sprayed on his face, Robb heard the grinding of metal come down through him. His eyes cringed when he could see the sky again. He didn't imagine he would ever taste the insides of someone, but he did now.

Robb's eyes were filled with entrails, but he could spot the sun through the blood. He heard the shards of metal break through right beside him. He saw a black arm stretch out for him.

Blackfish was out of breath and wheezing, but he still managed to stay alive during it all. “FAMILY, DUTY, HONOR!” He assured Robb, before running back into the chaos. The last he saw of his uncle were black scales that dripped with blood.

He recognized fewer men surrounding them. Robb heard screams and groans of men, and spears slicing through each of them. Jon was nowhere, they were in surrounded by swords, shields, and flayed men banners.

He could feel bodies, dead or alive being pushed into the pile. They were like animals being slaughtered. The mountain of dead piled up until he couldn’t see Winterfell, just the red leaves.

Robb heard the groans of Tormund Giantsbane as his face was being crushed, punch after punch. His body ached, and Robb just wanted to drop to the ground. His fingertips had loosened and he had no sword to hold.

Finally, he heard the piercing sound in the back of his head. No one seemed to notice, but then it came again; louder. The ground shook, vibrating more like it, all of a sudden he heard the loudness of the horn coming straight towards them.

Robb could hear the hoof beats crushing the snow beneath them. He saw white horses, thousands of them with knights riding towards them. The silver on their polished metal, untouched by the mayhem they were running right into.

The banners were too far, he couldn’t read them quick enough. Robb heard the first spear bearer scream, and the rest followed. There he saw it, the blue falcon and the moon coming to their aid.

Swirls of sky blue and ivory ran around them, circling like a whirlpool. More men fell, but more men had survived at the same time. Robb fell to his knees in search of a weapon to grab. The dead carried enough, he had rose back into the uproar.

He jumped at the feeling of someone grab him, it was seconds that stopped him from swinging to recognize his brother. Robb almost didn’t for a few seconds, the mud and blood dripping from his face had taken his own memory of Jon, but the same eyes stood back at him.

At the corner in both of their eyes, they could see who watched them from up the hills. The bastard stood high on his horse, untouched by it all. He knew what was to come next by the look in Robb and Jon’s eyes. That’s when he kicked his feet to ride back, into the walls of Winterfell.

Bastard:

They could wait it all out. They had Winterfell, walls taller than all of them. Yet he still paced. This was unusual to him, but he just couldn’t stop.

“Our army is gone.” All of them, looked at him like he was nothing. They had forgotten who he was and what the word Bolton meant. He wasn't a failed warlord, he would make sure of it.

The wolves howled. The stupid sound drove throughout his mind, imprinting into his brain. He wold give a Lordship and a holdfast, to whoever brought their skins to him.

“Look at their numbers, they don’t have the men for a siege. All we have to do is wait.” Before he could say more, he could hear the crackling of the wood. The doors weakened by the moment.

When they greeted him at the door, he heard the snarls and saw the blood red eyes that would lead to his unraveling.

Robb:

“Your men are ready to shoot them down.” Blackfish murmured to Tormund. They weren't at the gates yet, but all of them knew they would not be getting through while the doors stand.

“The walls are too high, even with bows they’ll have a better of shooting us than them.” Jon explained. Rams were coming, but not fast enough. As they hid for cover, the ground began to shake.

GreatJon had the looks of a bear when he came charging towards them. The dirt covered his face and blood was dripping from his mouth, but probably was not his own.

He looked at the gate and scuffed, “Move aside pretty boy.” He slid Daario Naharis like he had the weight of a feather. With a few cracks of his knuckles, Umber swung as hard as he could through the wooden gate.

Robb could hear the wood snap and GreatJon’s hands begin to stain with blood. “Move aside you fool!” Blackfish pulled him away to point out the ram coming towards them.

“HEE!” They came running and screaming through almost knocking all of the them down with it. The first crash you could hear the gates weaken. The second the wood cracked like being burned. The last you could no longer see the bloody fist marks, because the gates had fallen.

They ushered one another through the gaping hole in the walls, when Robb saw a blur race across the trees. He saw two golden stones staring back at him, and he knew them. Another set came of scarlet soar across the field.

Robb waved his arm to them, “Come on now, we’re going to need you.”

Men greeted them inside with crossbows aiming for their head. Before pulling the triggers, the wolves met them first.

Wildlings stormed the gates, the few soldiers who hadn’t ran Robb and Jon had caught up with them.

The noise finally began to settle, and the courtyard had become empty. Blackfish and his men had circled the walls and caught up to them. “We’ve looked, no sign of the bast-“

Before his uncle could finish, his mouth dripped blood. He looked his head to look beyond the scales, and pulled the arrow from his chest himself. “Ba,ba,basstarrd.” Blackfish stuttered the few words he could, before the black scales of armor had turned red.

Robb fell with his uncle to catch him. There was so much blood, he didn’t know where to cover his arms. “No, no, no, no, no….” He murmured under his breath.

He could hear a loud thud approach them. “You suggested one on one combat. I’ve reconsidered, sounds like a lovely idea. You and I bastard, just like you wanted it.”

Robb felt a hand grip his arm. Blackfish looked up gasping, he could hear the gargling of blood when he tried to breath. The more blood he lost, he shuddered for warmth against the cold ground.

He didn’t look up, he could only hear the sound of arrows. One after the other he heard them crash into something, it was too loud for it to be skin; wood more like it.

Robb’s hands were wet and slippery, his uncle’s skin turned pale and he didn’t have the strength to do anything. His eyes widened, and Blackfish arched his back shaking. Robb could feel his heart racing, he didn’t have time to breath for each beat.

Finally he stopped, his head fell to the ground. His lips had turned a light blue, and Robb couldn't feel a heartbeat. He could only hear the sound of fists smashing into flesh. The ground that had been a pale white turned blood red.

Finally everything was silent, no more moans of pain, or punches being thrown. His knees were about to snap, and Robb gasped at the tormenting pain that begun in his shoulder.

"It's over now." He turned to hear Sansa's voice entering the gates with men of the Vale at her sides. Sansa watched behind him to see Jon's arms red, raw, and bloody and the bastard laying in the dirt.

Robb circled the walls looking around to all the dead men that laid in his home. Where it once was full of laughter and warmth. Now all he saw was grey walls. "Is it ?" He chuckled clenching his shoulder, and feeling the weight lifting off his legs and the taste of dirt on the ground.

The room he laid in smelled of blood. Sweat clung to him everywhere, and his body had tingled with numbness in his veins. Robb could feel it slowly begin to fade, and his aches start to return. He could feel the pressure rising higher, higher, and higher.

“Seven fucking hells!” He shuttered feeling the poking and prodding going throughout his chest. His eyes widened to a cot laid in a room full of books, and bottles with unappealing scents and colors.

“Moving won’t help your pain m’lord. Take this, you can sleep while I finish.” The little grey man handing Robb a small white drink. He pushed it away, Robb didn’t know this man he would like to be awake if he’ll be cutting him up.

He sighed, but scurried quickly to his shelf of bottles again. “Who are you?” Robb said unsure of his surroundings. He could see the old man’s grey smock and chains dragging his neck down.

“I am the maester Morgryn of this castle, and the one who is attending to your injuries. If you wouldn’t mind, silence will be best.” He sprinted around the room and spoke fast every chance he got.

Maester of this castle. It had an odd sound to it; bitter he thought. He had bruises, nothing a stranger who was brought he by Boltons needed for. “I don't need help, I’ll be fine on my own.” Robb began to reach for the door.

He sighed again with more annoyance, slamming his books to the desk. “I studied in Oldtown with masters of the citadel. I melted and shaped my chain like the rest of them. I was sent here because this fortress was in need of a maester, not to choose sides on an idiotic war. That arrow wound in your shoulder is drench in Demon’s Dance, a lethal poison that destroys every ounce of blood but not unless I drain the poison. Now if you would not mind, I would like to see a live person leave this room!”

Robb groaned when he sliced through his shoulder. The stream of dark brown blood came down his shoulder into the small bowl laying underneath him. “How long will this be for?” He asked feeling the loss of blood causing his head to spin.

“Until that brown turns a bright red.” He sat down, looking around the room for a distraction. He was a quiet person, the maester was. He didn’t seem to enjoy his company very much.

“How long how I been out?” Robb asked. He didn’t remember much. Only walking through the gates, and then blood.

“A day or so. That arrow you ripped out of your shoulder, most came out but the tip was drenched in poison. While you were running off fighting for who knows what, your blood was killing you.”

He was a serious man, having no emotion to anything he said. Robb looked towards the windows to see the bodies being dragged out the gates. “Who is under that tarp?” He asked.

When Morgryn turned to what he was talking about and he finally slowed down. “The lady Walda and her child.” He said looking down, distracting himself with Robb’s blood.

Walda, thought. A Frey name to be exact. He remembered before Roose Bolton winning himself a fat bride gifted by the Freys. He was still puzzled, these northmen would never harm women and children by choice.

“Who did it? These men wouldn't do that to a woman or a child.” He stopped rushing and slowed down, his fingers shook slightly.

“Their deaths were long before you marched on Winterfell. Lord Ramsay wouldn’t let us bury them, he ordered to let them feed the dogs. Your blood, it is red. I can stitch the wound now.” He changed the subject quickly and sunk his needle so fast, Robb didn't even notice the until it broke through his skin.

He groaned and regretted rejecting his chance to be asleep through his. “Just answer me this and I’ll stop. Why did they die?” Morgryn stopped stitching all together.

He moved slowly and silently. “The child was healthy, red faced and squealing. I would know, I pulled him from his mother. Legitimized or no, a true born son of Roose Bolton and his wife rises higher than Lord Ramsay every would. His fate was sealed from the moment that baby boy was born.”

All was silent. Morgryn ran back to his wall of books and notes, and shooed Robb away. “Your stitches are done, come back in a fortnight I’ll pull them out then. I have other things to attend to.”

Everywhere he walked was empty. No servants, guards, the wolves didn't even howl. Robb felt light headed grasping the walls when he walked.
The courtyard was silent. Not a soul heard throughout Winterfell. Robb was confused, he didn’t know what to do. He felt his feet squishing under the blood soaked ground. The wind blew that sent chills right through his cloak into his bones, blowing the bright red leaf onto his shoulder.

Entering the Godswood, the air had a moist warmth to it. The hot springs still laid protected under the groves. Snow that fell to the ground, had always melted so fast.

He finally found actual, living people. They were all packed into the three acres of the Godswood. The dead were laid together, wearing their armor with the direwolf sigil.

“We won’t forget them, we never will. They were sons, fathers, and loyal men. They did not die in vain. We can’t replace them, we never will. All we can do now is remember, and never forget what they did for all of us.” He heard Jon speaking to them all, comforting the mourners.

Robb stood in the back watching it all. Then he saw him, the same black scales he had worn through his whole life. He didn’t look like Blackfish, his face had deflated and looked like a grey sack.

“They said you would sleep longer. The smell had sent in, we wouldn’t know when you would wake.” Sansa approached him from behind.

He didn’t answer, he just watched it all. He shouldn’t be in there he thought. Blackfish died in a cold place surrounded by Gods he didn’t worshipped, to be burned below the Weirwood trees like the rest of them.

Tully’s were to be laid in their armor and a blanket of their sigil. They were supposed to be taken away by the river. Any kind of water is leagues away, Robb thought. Now his uncle was just a trout freezing in the snow.

“Where is he?” He asked. They both knew who they spoke of. Sansa’s back stiffened when Robb mentioned it.

“Jon ordered that he be put in the crypts, next to father.” His father’s statue, he wanted to say. His father’s bones were sent to Winterfell, but once the Greyjoys took the north they never even reached the Neck.

Now his father’s tomb had an incomplete statue made by stonemasons who were long dead, that was completely empty.

“Bury Shaggydog in his tomb as well. He’s still out in the fields with the rest of the bodies.” Robb informed her. Before she responded Robb stepped forward with the rest of them, lighting the torches.

When it was done, Jon met Robb at the gates. “You’re awake. The maester didn’t answer when you’d be up and moving.” Jon spoke with surprise in his voice.

“Aye. I left fast. There’s too much that needs taking care of now. The bastard needs to pay." Robb spoke sullen. Jon had a strange look on his face, he wasn't telling Robb something.

"He's been dealt with." He said sternly, but not an explanation or a cause. He could see his brother staring forward behind Robb. When he himself turned, he smelled the scent of rotting flesh and men pulling slabs of discarded meat from the hounds cages.

"Never mind that, there's more to discuss. Ravens have been flying in from all sides of the North." Jon handed Robb little scrolls each had a different color and seal. Merman, fists, trees, and more. Green, red, brown orange, but the ravens words said the same.

"All of them?" Robb asked. Jon nodded firmly to make sure he understood the depth of what was happening.

"The banners, they're coming."

"The Vale will not side with wildling invaders!" Yohn Royce exclaimed. He seemed so full of himself, when the Vale had no shares with the North. Robb truly wanted to ask what his reasons were of staying, but his lessons from long ago told him no.

“We didn’t invade. We were invited.” Tormund gave a sly smile to his words with food in his mouth that made the knights of the Vale give a disgusted look.

Jon had more to say than the rest of them. He had dealt with getting the wildlings on peaceful terms before with those south of the wall. “The Freefolk, the northerners, and the knights of the Vale fought bravely, together.”

Jon’s words shut the men of the Vale up temporarily, but the young Lord Cerwyn rose up to question. “The Boltons are defeated, the North is free. House Stark has said it for years, winter is coming and if the maesters are right, it will be the coldest in thousands of years. We should go home to prepare, not go south for some dragon queen who knows nothing of us or even cares.”

A Tully man stepped forward to explain. “Aye Northerners can go home, but what of the Riverlands? We left our siege, rode north and fought for the Starks. Our homes are taken by Lannisters, and Lord Brynden lost his life. Who will avenge Blackfish Tully while his home is full of lions and murderers?”

That hit hard, but they spoke the truth. Blackfish’s men left their homes to be taken and given away, to fight for their family. Now it was over, but they didn’t have anywhere to go.

“Running to your homes, won’t stop the Lannisters. Once they know of the Boltons fate, they will come learning the news.” Robb added. They grumbled and questioned on what to do.

They didn’t agree with their ways. These men wanted to go home, banner men had been under the Boltons rule, or captive by the Freys for years. It made sense why they wouldn’t want to fight no longer.

Her eyes were more frightening than most of the men there. She may have been smaller, but the girl was a Mormont. “Your sons were killed or captives at the Red Wedding for years Lord Manderly. But you refused the call.”

She turned again in a new direction and at a new man. “You swore allegiance to house Stark Lord Glover. In their hour of great need, you refused and closed the gates on them.”

Again Lyanna Mormont stared, with eyes of a killer. “And you, Lord Cerwyn. Your father was skinned alive by the Boltons, and you did nothing for your father, and refused the call.”

“House Mormont remembers, the North Remembers! We know no king, but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I don’t care what this Queen says, Stark blood runs through his veins, all of theirs. He's my King, like we have said before. From this day until his last day.”

Robb remembered this before, it came back to him like a vision. The only difference was GreatJon’s speech from before, was in the size of a brave ten year old girl. Men we’re silent, they knew what she meant and took it seriously.

It was all happening again, but Robb didn’t move. He stood frozen for a moment, trying to think all this through. Before he could do anything Wyman Manderly stood before him.

“Lady Mormont speaks harshly and true. My sons, dead and taken for the Young Wolf. I swore I wouldn't have another king after the Red Wedding began. I didn’t want more Manderlys dying. I was wrong, about it all. Here you stand, once again. Robb Stark avenged the Red Wedding, he is the Young Wolf still, forever young. My son is home, the mummer’s farce is over. The KING in the North!”

Robbett Glover, rose with sullen in his eyes. “I did not fight beside you, I doubted you, and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he’s wrong, it’s harder to receive forgiveness.” He turned to Jon standing beside him.

“There’s nothing to forgive my Lord.” Jon bowed his head reassuring Lord Glover.

“Battles will come again, house Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for thousands of years, and I will stand behind Robb Stark once again. The King in the North!”

The last one to stand almost flipped the table when he rose.

“There was a time when we were feared, the men of the North! Now look at us, we’re old shits forgotten because we bowed to traitorous cunts. Ned Stark our friend, our Liege lord, killed and never avenged. We once ruled ourselves, now we hide in fear! This dragon queen means nothing to me. Me and mine are going south, for vengeance, and there’s only one I mean to be lead by. I said it long ago and I mean it again! THERE, SITS THE ONLY KING I MEAN TO BEND MY KNEE TO! THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

Blades rose above them all. The chanting began again. There was no memory of before, because it was happening right then and there. Somehow, when Robb wasn’t even thinking, his legs did the work and rose on their own. He stood once again, and the room echoed.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

They bowed to him now, wherever he went. Of all the things he missed, he did not miss that. The rookery was quiet. Robb found Morgryn in the corner, surrounded by books. He lift his eyes for a moment to notice him and sighed.

The book made a slapping noise when he shut it. "You've returned. Sadly. Why have you come now, to disturb me."

"You said a fortnight and then you'd pull the stitches. They're quite irritating." The Maester reached closer to look at his wound. It had scarred quickly, turning red and beginning to fade.

"You haven't ripped them that's good at least." He grabbed a small thin knife and began the snipping. I felt like little needles sliding out of his shoulder.

"I'm not calling you Your Grace and kiss your arse. I serve this house still, and I will do my work." Robb chuckled at Morgryn's attitude, he may have been irritated by visitors but he was good.

"Never planned on asking you to." Robb assured him.

"Well don't get any ideas." Morgryn muffled. Robb turned his head throughout the room. Ravens in the corner yelled at them for corner. In the corner of his eye he saw the red eyes. And the white feathers.

"That one of yours, or was it sent?" Robb knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. Morgryn was going to yell at him for what he meant, but he already saw what caught his eye.

"Sent. The citadel sends their regards. Your words are nothing now, winter is here. Take the letter, go and tell your men the news. I'm done here."

They searched the bodies, looked for any sigils. Their men received proper burial and funeral. The others were burned in mass graves.

The fields smelled of death, it clung to everything. The men in camps were disgusted by it. Hundreds of tents laid outside of Winterfell.

Robb hadn't gotten used to the hot springs yet, he had forgotten what it felt like. He reached the steps to the top, and felt the cold air burn. When he stepped forward towards the walls, he found Jon looking down at it all.

Jon watched the ground that laid with a fresh coat of snow. Leaving the gates was the red priestess his brother had brought with him on their way to Winterfell. "She's leaving?" Robb said.

"Nothing you needed to worry about, unfinished business from Castle Black.” He turned away as the red woman road on. Jon changed the subject quickly, but Robb could feel tension for something he didn’t know.

“I’ve asked the servants to prepare the Lord’s chamber.” He said tersely. Robb could feel his eyebrows raise at the thought.

“I can’t take that. It was never my room. You should take it, you did all of this.” He looked to the direwolf banners flapping above them.

“You should have it. You’re the King in the North again, look at all of the men. They’re all here because the Young Wolf has returned and taken back his home.”
Robb sighed knowing what this tense talk between his brother was. It always went back to the same thing, the line between Jon and the rest of them.

“I didn’t do this, you, Sansa, the Vale, the battle was over before she brought them. We both know that.” He explained.

“You’re their King, who do they think won this battle? The bastard brother or the firstborn son of Ned Stark?” It still always went back to the name.

“They shouldn’t treat you like that, you’re our brother and you’ve always been. I can have you legitimized now.”

He chuckled, looking up at the snow. “I climbed the wall, I fought the white walkers, I was Lord Commander of Castle Black... I had almost forgotten the ways of nobles, none of the things I've done matter to them. I'll always just be a bastard born South."

Robb sighed. He knew his words didn't matter to Jon. He always feel like that, to be reminded of where he came from.

"Jon." Robb called to his brother collecting himself to walk away. He turned back as Robb through the raven's letter.

"A raven came from the citadel, a white raven. Winter is here." Robb spoke briefly. His brother circled his head looking at the snow floating down, laughing.

"Father always promised, didn't he? Go on, you should tell the-" A deafening screech echoed across Winterfell. Robb remembered that noise, he remembered all three of their noises.

It was the black one, it's size casted a shadow over Winterfell. Robb spotted silver over the dragons scales. Even for it's size it still landed to reach the ground swiftly.

Fast and loud, the beast screamed in pain. Nothing had changed, only the dragon itself. It panicked and it shook jumping back into the air.

"Something's on it." Jon pointed out to the pale hands clinging onto the red scales. Of course the mother had gone with her child. Robb could see her hands slipping.

"It's going to throw her off." Robb pointed out. They couldn't stop the beast, or even figure out its panic. The dragon twisted and turned and finally its wings stretched and he could see her arms release.

And so she fell.

RAN OUT OF SPACE!!! THE REST IS IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!!

Chapter Text

The Damphair:

"This is unholy work, you are doing.” He spoke unimpressed with the work he had done.

He laughed at him, with a pale blue smile to match his eye. “I know."

The ugliness of the horn matched the sound. Bright and baneful was its voice, a shivering hot scream that seemed to make a man’s bones disintegrate. It was the horn of hell.

The man he forced to play the horn had collapsed dead on the ground. His lips were blistered and charred and his throat had gone black from sharing a kiss with the Valyrian relic.

“Look at this! This is not God’s work.” Aeron yelled to Crow’s Eyes followers. They seemed unsure of their reasons behind following him.

“Which God do you speak of Damphair? Why Aeron I am the Godliest man to ever raise sail! You serve one God brother, but I have served ten thousand. From Braavos to Asshai, when men see my sails they pray.”

Euron kicked the body onto the rocks and grabbed their attention again. He circled the horn like it was his prey, stroking it as if it was his child. “I said before we will be conquerers again, and THIS will lead us to victory. My wife to be is coming, and with her her dragons will fall to our will and the Lords of Westeros will burn.”

Of all the tales Aeron had heard; Balon was mad, Aeron himself even madder, and Euron the maddest of them all. It all began to come together with those words.

The wind was rough, the waves crashed against the rocks. A shadow as black as the Silence’s sails flew down to them. The dragon crashed to the moss ground surrounding them all.

Euron with madness in his eyes, walked towards the black beast thinking it was a gentle creature. “Someone, BLOW THE FUCKING HORN!” He screamed.

Soon the beast lifted its head, realizing none of them could control it. Crow’s Eye panicked as it rose above them all. He ran towards the beast touching its wing, and Euron was flung against the rocks smelling of burnt flesh.

The dragon had already was up against the clouds, when men tended to Euron. “GET OFF OF ME!” He roared with embarrassment in his face. Aeron could see the scared arm turned a burnt red.

“It’s heading towards main land.” Euron spoke only to himself. Men followed his orders and pushed another aside to blow the horn. His blue eye twitched, and his anger rose when they walked near the horn.

“Don’t. That won’t be needed, not yet anyway.” He pushed them all aside. Euron walked to the edge of the land, inches from the water.

“The dragon, it’s going North… We blew the horn and it came so fast…” Crow’s Eye’s voice was puzzled as he watched the sky. His back stiffened and he cracked his knuckles.

“She’s here.”

Chapter Text

Hey there readers… I AM BACK! As you read before new enemies are rising and characters meet again, so there will be more to come and here’s one now. For this chapter, you’ll receive new POVs! Also a blast from the past will appear so read carefully (Talking to you book readers!!) Plus maybe a reference from a chapter or 4 ago.. ;) Hope you like this one, and don’t forget to comment!!! X

Daenerys:

Smoke was in the air, but there was no fire. The scent stayed on Dragonstone the whole time they were there. Still, there was never a flame.

She sent unsullied to go ahead and secure the castle. They were there waiting for them. Daenerys expected bodies to be pulled out, but none did that.

“Who held it before?” She turned to Tyrion. He lifted the torn banner washing along shores, a burning heart with a crowned stag.

“King Robert had given it to his brother Stannis Baratheon. He was a fanatic for those red priests, it explains the flaming heart. Stannis ran North for Winterfell, he never returned and the Boltons still ruled so his fate was an unlucky one.”

That was a delight to hear, she had almost forgotten the thousands of men she sent to go fight those men. “Stannis, he was one of these five Kings?”

Tyrion sighed as he stroked the scar on his face. “Yes. Probably the only one of those Kings who could have been Robert’s heir and have any right to the crown…. No offense.”

Daenerys took no offense to it, Westeros had forgotten what blood right truly meant. Not usurpers or rebellions, to wipe out the true line of succession. They would know soon though, she thought.

Dragonstone was a fortress made from Valyrian work, it was written in the walls. The black stones covered all, white it’s own version of a wall was made from boulders of black glass that had a slick and shiny appearance.

As she walked up the steps, Dany laid her hands against the walls. She could feel the engraved marks against the walls next to her. They were cut so precisely she could feel the scale like marks on each part of it.

The halls were empty, aIl of it was abandoned. In her mind first going there, Daenerys expected banners of the three headed dragon. The reality of her mind and any sign of Targaryens had been tossed away to be erased from all.

The last tower she reached had been the one she waited for since riding in the Dothraki sea. The rounded overlooked miles of water and windows pointing in all directions, but what Daenerys waited for was the table.

All that time she read the stories, but now she stood entering the books. The plan of invasion began again, but she was going to be the conquerer. Daenerys stood over all seven kingdoms, only shaped into wood.

Dany walked to the end, standing before the ivory line reading the wall. The rest soon joined her as they entered the room. They were all in silence standing over waiting for her words.

“Shall we begin?”

They spent days just focusing just on the table. Staring at the paint chips calling off, the creases fill with more land to uncover.

Tyrion had gone over every house of every kingdom. He told she must know the rivals and allies of each of the wealthy houses. He spoke of her needing to know the people if they were going to live under her reign.

He explained to Dany how everything was a pyramid for Westeros to stand and the people do it for them. Lannisters have the gold to buy, the Reach supplies its foods, but they all shared the same; armies. Still, there was one part that stood alone.

The North didn’t need any of them for survival. No one could truly tame it, it’s armies and land was the largest of all the seven kingdoms. The cold froze them all accept their hearts, that’s where the most dangerous part of them was held Tyrion explained from his brief meeting with them.

It wasn’t hard to tell what family meant to them. Winters hit them first, they would be the first ones hit with death. They cared for their own, she could tell hearing the whole North raised a rebellion when Eddard Stark lost his head.

"House Baratheon." He asked. She pointed to the stag, but he shook his head. Tyrion pointed out the stag is crowned since Robert Baratheon was named King. She expected him to be done, but he had more to say.

He knocked the small banner to the ground. "Extinct. Robert had no heirs, his brothers are gone, no living Baratheons left." Daenerys thought it was absurd.

"You mean to tell me that Robert Baratheon never had a bastard? I've lived in Essos my life and even I knew the length of his reputation." He poured his wine to the tip of the glass.

“Like I said no living members of the Baratheon family lives, bastard or no…. We can finish this discussion later, we’ve had ravens flying and the messages are piling.” Tyrion changed the subject quickly and poured himself another cup.

She recognized the green and orange wax melted onto the papers. Dorne and the Reach were still south, Daenerys would plan for them to strike only with her call.

Most of the ravens had no seal, she still knew the writer of these notes. Daario knew of his task for when he would be heading North. She wasn’t going to be led blindly, not knowing what Robb Stark would do.

Dany scrolled through the letters, it was like a book telling their movements and what they would do. “They didn’t go straight to Riverrun, apparently they met with bandits and witches.”

Tyrion shared the same puzzled look she had. Another note showed them of reaching Riverrun, fewer men than they thought, but what she might call her Northern ally had managed to convince them.

A tense pain in her head rose hearing the change of plans Robb Stark had done. “They never even took the castle, just abandoned it and went North. He chose to spend his time with orphans and ‘kidney pie’.”

The farther she read through the more her head filled with confusion. Daenerys had given up reading when she learned of his plans on this castle on the bridge. “You both told of me of this massacre, his men had. Tell me what you think of this." She handed him the note with revenge written in the ink.

Tyrion sighed. He wanted to as, but he couldn't. He had surprise on his face. “The whole household?… Well it’s not surprising, you didn’t expect this situation to go smoothly after all.”

She knew that something would need to be done with it, but she didn’t expect a whole household to be wiped out. Daenerys expected more from Robb Stark for some reason, she didn’t think he was one to do these acts.

“This won’t be helpful when people learn of this. People will believe that if they don’t follow my rule, I’ll have Northmen and Dothraki coming down on them.” She explained.

Tyrion agreed with a nod of his head sipping his wine."The North are hard to tame, and not knowing who you are won't help." The influence of wine in his head may have helped, but Tyrion was right.

"How long could it take for them to come here?" She asked. Daenerys would need pledges of fealty to be sure of who she was putting her trust in.

"It would take months for all of them to be in the same place, besides the taking Winterfell, the North is broken into pieces. Forresters and Whitehills are at war, Starks and Boltons. At one point someone is always fighting another.”

They both shared the same thought, but just a thought it was. Daenerys couldn’t even know whether or not the Robb Stark was even alive to go North. It would be foolish to just go there not knowing of who held it.

"We don't know if they are even alive, these messages are old.” She argued. Tyrion scurried to the top of the table and pointing to the side.

"White Harbor is held by House Manderly." When Tyrion spoke, she remembered that name and it being held by a fat merman.

"Lord Wyman sons killed and captive by the Freys, no loyalty to the Boltons. They could be a sure place to wait to find out." Daenerys could see the shimmer of ambition in his green eyes when he spoke.

"And how long have you been planning this?" She asked. He chuckled slightly as if she were a naive child, but in that case she was.

"They never notice the dwarf, what they don't realize is that he's always one step ahead." Tyrion raised his glass to give a toast to himself alone in the room.

“Most of the Ironborn and Dornish have warships that you’ll need for other times, but the Reach has some strong vessels. Riding dragons bigger than ships in the air North won't keep this trip unnoticed.”

She truly didn’t care if they saw her, let them she thought. She had heard from all, that Westeros didn’t care who she was or where. They didn’t even know if she was alive, or that her dragons even existed. But they would know she thought, they would all know soon.

They seemed more peaceful here, she thought to herself. Daenerys wondered if they felt a sense of home while staying here. It was more than she had felt.

Viserion laid in Aegon’s Garden beneath the long trees and wild roses. His size was almost too big to fit, but the roofless courtyard eased him in. The warmth of his cream colored scales were a soothing feeling when she stroked the side of his face.

The silver grey sky had turned to a dark charcoal that covered them all. Rhaegal’s wings stretched long than the garden itself. His wings flapping had sounded like a strike of lightning as he flew throughout Dragonstone.

Drogon had come and gone, but he always returned. When she did see him, Daenerys saw his black scales coming, matching the dark stones on the island.

In the back of her head, Dany could hear tiny footsteps approaching. “The ship has arrived, but it’s brought something… Unpleasant that requires your attention.” She turned, her brow raised to see Tyrion’s face.

Daenerys could smell the sea salt brush her face when they walked down the steps. In the air she lost the scent of saltwater and smelled a soothing aroma of sweetness; roses.

“Finally, someone who speaks and has balls.” She heard the raspy voice of what looked like from afar a small, black, insect. When Daenerys caught a closer glimpse to see a short woman wrapped in black veil.

“Lady Olenna, what an interesting surprise.” Tyrion spoke beside her. The woman sighed with a roll of her eyes, brushing the sand off the bottom of her skirt.

“I may be old, but I do know when one is lying, and I enjoy brutal honesty more. The last I saw you Lord Tyrion, my skirts had been stained in a certain viper’s blood and your head ready for the chopping block.”

Her sly smile almost brought Daenerys to a chuckle. Tyrion’s scar twitched slightly thinking back to her story. “I see you haven’t changed, even in your time of grief. I’m sorry for your losses. What brings you hear in these dark times for you?”

She sighed swatting her black veil out of her face. “The Reach has over two hundred warships, fifty thousands men give or take, and much more food and grain. Let’s remember who holds the Reach. We’re not going to send our armies to fight for some stranger.”

The elder Tyrell woman looked up and down in front of Daenerys. Her face had no emotion, just a raise of the eyebrows.“You’re smaller than I imagined. Well, that silver hair proves something, you truly are a Targaryen.”

“And I’ve heard of you Lady Olenna, it seems you’ve been a Queen of Thorns longer than I ever been. What truly brought you hear than to see the color of my hair?” Dany asked watching her purse her lips and tighten her fists.

She gave a slight grin when she heard Daenerys’ words. “Well at least you know how to speak my language, unlike the way the little bastards in the capitol speak.”

“You plan on taking Tyrell ships North, Lord Varys isn’t the only one who hears whispers. This would be suitable for you, but we did give you our whole navy. Spider, you did this now you’re going to fix it.”

Varys had a confused look as did most of them. “I suppose we could discuss a sufficient number of ships for you to return back to Highgarden with.” Olenna lifted her black skirts as she walked the steps herself.

“Better her leaving than coming with us.” Tyrion said. Of all the smart sayings and wit he’s said, a short, old woman with a sharp tongue. Her eyes turned to him when he said the word us.

“You don’t expect me to stay here? I’m your advisor, I’m no use to anyone here. Besides I’ve met Lady Tyrell few times and I’d rather be surrounded by Northerners who’d want to feed me to a direwolf than with the Queen of Thorns.”

She tried to hide her smile when he saw, but he shook his head. “You see a woman with smart wit, I see the a cunning, grieving woman with wealth, power, and wants revenge. Not a person who’s anger you’d want.”

“Then good thing she’s an ally. She offered this ship, we should use it why it’s still day.” Daenerys spoke turning towards the Honor of Oldtown. Nothing creaked or smelled of mildew.

The ropes began to drop and the boat started to swift along the water. It was silent, but not long enough. Suddenly Dany heard the songs of dragons cry from the island.

Queen of Thorns:

Of all the years for this to happen she thought, the Gods couldn’t have waited for her to be dead when it began? She expected the Spider to be more alert of knowing these things, but in times of war new stories are coming from everywhere.

“My lady, you were once supposed to be a member of this house treat it as if it was your-“

“Oh do shut up. I’ve not come here to have you sweep me off my feet with flattery. Let’s get to the point.” Olenna spat back with the sweetness of her venom.

“Of course. You must return back to Highgarden for an heir to choose. You may take your ships as many as you-“ She gave a sort of laughter at his words, it was quite amusing in her eyes.

“Please Lord Varys, do you think I’d let my “beloved family” the relief of knowing. Tyrell blood is everywhere in the Reach you can thank the whoremonger Lords. Let them fight for it when I’m dead and buried. Tyrell are powerful allies, you think we care for ships? I came because of this.”

Olenna flung the parchment across the table. Varys swiftly lifted up the scroll. His delicate, nibble fingers reminded her of a woman’s when he read through.

She wanted to learn the truth of these words, she watched his face carefully by each sentence. Olenna stiffened her back, too impatient to wait for his answer. Her voice had no sarcasm or wit to it, nor any insults to trade back.

“Now tell me I chose the write side to fight on, in this war.”

“False, all of it. I assure you, this is pretenders work. Daenerys is the only one who carries the right to any of it.” She wanted to believe the spider, but for once was his whispers were wrong she thought.

“Well you were there through it all, don’t you remember which King you whispered into first? We all heard the rumors of what that dog did, but how do we know what actually happened? Is there even a chance for this to be true.”

He paused only for a moment when she asked, but she still noticed. “It’s not possible. All over Essos they say stories, but none of them are true. Those who would follow them are simpletons.” Varys spoke, but she still questioned his pause.

“Not possible, HA! That’s what they said about dragons returning and what do we have outside those windows? I’d tell the dragon Queen to not ask for help in the Stormlands, apparently they’re simpletons and swore fealty. How many men do they have, thirty, forty thousand?.. ”

He pursed his lips, he was hiding something. “You can wait out the storm in the Reach, but you cannot hide from the wars to come. You can find an alliance somewhere else, but Daenerys Targaryen is the true and only ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She sighed and wanted to here no more of his soft voice. Olenna rose from her chair, out of words or phrases to mock him. “I will take one ship back to Highgarden. We make good allies for a reason.”

Olenna strided out the room hearing his sensitive, irritating voice “Your choices today won’t be regretted my Lady."

She stopped in her pace when she heard his words. "Your words Lord Varys, not mine."

When she had gotten onto the boat, she began to think. So many thoughts in her mind felt like her mind would explode. That may have been good she supposed. If there was a time for it would be now..

Olenna promised herself that. She knew the tales, the horror, the anguish. She was not going to be one of the foolish fighters, not in this war.

If the rest had forgotten she was not going to sink down with them. Olenna knew what was coming, even if Varys had denied it. If they say history will repeat itself, then the Dance of Dragons will come again, and sooner than they know.

Daenerys:

She heard the men yelling above them, the boat stopped moving and only rocked back and forth. Grey Worm came in opening the door, escorting her and Missandei out.

When the doors opened, it was like a knife slicing through the air. From what the North seemed so far, it had a cold and bitter taste.

The port they entered had dozens of ships all with emerald green mermen strapped at the bow. Surrounding them was a whitewashed stoned wall blocking the city from the port with closed steel gates.

“The port is empty, quiet even. Quite odd for a city known for this form of work." When the rest of unsullied left the boat they walked towards the empty city.

He silence brought tension around them. She could see Grey Worm and the other unsullied uncomfortable looks when they walked. Silence was unusual for all of them.

Before even reaching the gates, someone yelled and a noise of a trigger was heard. "Far enough." Men rose from the top of the walls, crossbows in their grasp. Daenerys could see the green Manderly pins.

"This is an unusual meeting, but we come as friends. Allies soon, but we must pass through." Tyrion raised his arms as he slid past the unsullied and had them step in front of Daenerys.

"And why are you here Imp? When a Lannister becomes an ally to us, the seven hells will freeze over and white walkers will come to Dorne." Dang could hear Tyrion cuss under his breath and sighed.

"If we could speak with your Lord, he'd understand why we must pass through." Their faces grew tired of him talking, and lead his eyes away, catching a glimpse of Daenerys with her hood off.

"Lord Wyman is away because of you. The King had us close the boarders. No one goes in or out of the North. He didn't want you in here, dragon Queen." She slid aside in front of them wanting to answer to their foolish words.

"You'd listen to an illegitimate, Lannister, boy in the Iron Throne, who doesn't care for any of you even started wars and follow his orders?" That spat back at her with laughter.

"You plan to let a halfwit rule Westeros imp? We speak of our King, the King in the North. Where do you think our Lord is. The whole North bowed to King Robb again once Bolton's bastard was chewed apart."

She felt her nails rip through her sleeves when she heard their words. She heard Tyrion step forward again slowly as they still held their weapons high. "So you're saying the Starks having taken Winterfell?" The soldiers nodded waving them out out the harbor.

"You do realize who brought the men to your aid, who even brought your King here? If you deny us entry, we'll go elsewhere, when we arrive in Winterfell I'll be sure to talk of the brutes watching his city."

They laughed so hard their fat bellies shook from above her. "Go elsewhere then, you'll see. Umber, Cerwyn, Glover, Tallhart, their Lords gone as well. We follow their orders, and they said no one in or out. Go back to Essos girl, your "rule" is nothing here."

She turned back to Tyrion, waiting for his answer to his perfect plan. "At least they took Winterfell." She crossed her arms, pushing back her silver locks away as she paced.

"And then he became king." She raised her eyebrows wanting to hear another reply. Daenerys could see his head lower down to his feet, thinking of more. Tyrion raised his head looking up to the fat men sitting on top of the walls.

"Well, we're getting our information from fat soldiers, who come from a proud kingdom. These are stories." Still she thought, they had no way of finding out the truth of their tales as they sat on a port.

They had no reason to be here, and nowhere else to go. Now they just stood on an empty port. Suddenly she heard a noise, she knew that tune well. It was a song of dragons.

If only she had saw the soldiers above them and their reactions. They probably thought he was a dark cloud rushing down on them. "You never leave home without them, do you?..." Tyrion pestered behind her.

"When you get there, send a raven. We won't enjoy staying here long while you play in the snow.” He sighed staring back up to the frightened guards.

The closer she came, Daenerys could feel the cold begin to singe away. Her hands grabbed hold Drogon's crimson wings, when she moved past his face she could feel the heat coming through his skin.

Her gloves gripped onto Drogon as his wings began to stretch. Suddenly she felt the push of wind as his wings flapped and the ground had begun to shrink.

Soon enough, they were above the port and over the gates looking over all of them. Another push of his wings, the clouds began to cover all of the city.

The faster they went, her hands were raw and shaking quickly. Her fingers tingled slightly, but she gripped tighter as they went.

Daenerys had lost track of how long they had been flying. Dragon still didn’t stop, but she could see the crease in his wings begin to slowly diminish. Still, they kept moving.

She had a feeling of foolishness when they left. Dany had never even been to the North and now she was planning to go farther in and find a single castle in all of it. Still she thought, a battle had just occurred, anyone would know it by the sight of bodies lying on the ground.

Drogon had sunk below the clouds, that’s when the scent had hit. It was like a strike across the face, she remembered the smell long before on the road to Meereen. Daenerys expected to have gotten used to it, but the smell of death always came back worse.

From her point of view, they looked like dead ants. The trail of the dead stretched from the darkened trees from the woods, into the darkened green fields, and straight at the gates. Through all the dark and gloom, Daenerys could see a bright red splotch surrounded by so much Grey.

When they dropped lower, she could feel all around her began to shake. The monstrous cry was deafening when Dragon screeched. Dany slid her arms against his scales, trying to calm him but another spasm he made had her hand filled with sweat begin to slip.

Daenerys gripped tighter when he shook trying to move away. She stretched her leg trying to pull herself up, but the last stretch off his wings had shrugged her off and into the air.

It was silent for a moment, no one to listen to or any noise at all. It was complete silence, nothing to see or hear. Then it all came back at her at once, starting with a loud thud.

Her eyes opened into darkness. Daenerys felt as if her eyes were still closed. Her hands were pressed against the cold rough floor.

When she lifted herself to her feet, there was nothing to see and nowhere to go; only darkness. Suddenly she saw the flickers in the corner, the flame drinking the darkness and the light growing bigger and bigger.

The first she saw was the pale, red stone against the walls. The light had begun to dim as the shadow cast down over her. When she turned again, there was no shadow; only bone.

It had been bigger than any of them, even Drogon. She could stand inside of the skull not having to bend down. The color was darkened black to the core, even the teeth were a dark charcoal.

She Daenerys turned to look through the room, she saw more skulls each smaller than the next. Every one of them was bathed in dust and had cracks leading throughout the head. They had been lined up, and the last one looked smaller than a cats, deformed and falling apart.

At the end of the skulls, steps leading up had showed light gleaming above. Dany could feel the warmth of the light, when she stretched her hand up to the stairs.

When she reached the top, a gust of heat had blown throughout the room and the sun seeping in through the windows. She remembered this room, she thought. Only before, there was just charred remains of what was left.

The dragon skulls she had just seen, thrown in the cellars had been lying there old and dusty. Now they were looking down on her hanging from the walls of the throne room, polished and never aging.

The Iron Throne was glazed in the shining of the metals that fit the red dragon banners that stood behind it. Daenerys walked the single steps, close enough to grasp one of the melted swords.

She felt the small prick of her finger from touching the swords tip. When she turned her hand over, she felt the blood drip from her fingertip. Suddenly from behind, she heard the howls of a wolf.

When she turned she had not noticed the people behind her. Their faces were empty seeing her, nor did they even notice her being in the room with them and standing before right in front of them.

She saw the back of a skinny man with silver hair down to his shoulders, and a crown of dark points, wrapped with a red and gold band.

The two in front of him, a man much younger with his brows furrowed and deep purple eyes full of anger. His silence had hidden much of it. The girl, lips pursed looking as if she had been holding her breath. Finally her mouth opened only to a dim, lying, smile trying to please them all.

The the shadows near the doors, Daenerys could see the small silhouette of a child like figure and red eyes staring back at her.

Every blink she made felt as if they lasted a century. Daenerys’ eyes opened again to see the darkened curtains and the smell of wine.

She heard bells ringing behind the closed windows, then a sudden crash had blocked the noise. Daenerys step forward against the doors to see the broken wine glass and the blood dripping from it.

“TELL THEM RHAELLA’S CHANGED HER MIND!” She saw the same girl screaming in the corner, wearing an ivory dress stained with wine, blood, and tears. Daenerys could see the servants run to her, holding her as she dropped the last piece of glass after the blade had cut through her wrists.

She wanted to leave. Daenerys could feel her heart throbbing and her palms sweat hearing her words and seeing it all. She wanted it to be over. When she pushed the doors open to leave, the light that shined had almost blinded her.

The stained glass brought in sunlight of every color. When Daenerys looked up seven statues looked down to her. When she tilted her head back down, she heard the sounds of hundreds clapping and cheering.

There they stood again, she thought. The two stood before them all, side by side and one wearing the three headed dragon cloak.

She saw what was to be her father, with a grim faced staring back with desire at the golden haired girl draped in gold and green that had matched her eyes. Only then did the weary looks of the blonde woman’s companion, have Aerys look away and back with gloom to the cheering wedding guests.

Daenerys saw the face of her mother weary eyed and a face unfazed. She only looked down at her new and untouched wedding dress. She looked down to the sleeves added that draped down to her fingertips, covering the bandages underneath. She suddenly saw the same lying, and pleasing smile Rhaella wore to look at the people.

Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, but when they opened she stood in front of seven men with silver armor across their chest. Their white cloaks untarnished, and spotless.

She could see a Lady coming from the hall, tall and draped in lavender silks. Her face was unblemished, with hair dark as night and haunting violet eyes much like Dany herself.

As she strode along past them, the only one who’s face loosened as she walked by was a young knight. Daenerys wanted to be seen when she recognized his face. She only remembered a wise face and hair white as snow.

Ser Barristan’s blue eyes softened by the look of the violet Lady, only she never glanced or had noticed him. When she had turned to the next hall, his back stiffened as he went back to guarding a door.

Of all the silver and white armor, one stood out. A boy no older than sixteen, looked as if he had been painted in gold. From his armor to the color of his hair, gold was his color. His eyes she thought, they had a brighter sense but a familiar look.

The pieces came together, she noticed the smallest resemblance between Tyrion and his brother. It was small, but she could see it. Daenerys had imagined him different, but most times she hoped for him to be bathed in dragonfire so it was a different sight.

The doors behind them opened and the Kingsguard had bowed before as Rhaella had pushed the doors shut behind her with shaking hands. Her hair had been pulled out of place, and red raw bite marks across her neck.

The knights had looked down or away from her, as she walked away from the bed chamber. None said anything or had looks of guilt. They only stood in line once again.

She saw the weakness die down in her eyes as she pulled her hair back and lifted her skirts. Rhaella had stiffened her back and stood up straight, pride in her stance as she walked not looking back.

She turned back towards Ser Barristan, but the halls were empty. Small candles were lit along the walls, and all was quiet.

Suddenly she heard the crash, glass thrown onto the floor in a burnt red door. Daenerys slowly slid between the breach of the door. Seeing a clay molding of a sun pierced by a spear.

“You can’t mean it, you cant just do this!” Rhaella’s arms grabbed the slender, olive skinned girl. She just looked away at the balcony overlooking the water.

“We’re not going to win this war… Some aren’t going to leave this city, and we both know who Rhaella.” She pushed her away as she bit her lip.

Her mother paced back and forth grabbing her hair trying to understand. “You fight, for them, for Rhaenys and Aegon. Which you seem to forget.. This is a war of the Usurper for a reason, when Rhaegar returns-“

The Dornish princess stopped her there knocking everything that was left on tables hearing them clash against the stone floor.

“OH WE’RE NOT GOING TO WIN THIS WAR! Think for a moment… Rhaegar has left, the forces are that desperate they need him… A prince just to keep thinking they’ll win. And WHERE are the ravens from him about this “victory” on the Trident? None, we’re all just waiting for the words of their loss and then the vermin in this city will start to run..”

Daenerys saw the violet sound when Rhaella struck Elia. She saw her eyes dried and mad, but regret soon after. Rhaella knew Elia’s words were true, even before any of them knew what would happen.

“He’s sending us to Dragonstone…” Dany heard the shudder in her mother’s voice, when she wouldn’t dare say his name. She could hear the scuff of Elia’s voice.

“Yes… King Scab saves us all. Lewyn warned me of Aerys’ doubts. I didn’t believe him at first but, I now have guards watching me. Blocking me from leaving the Red Keep. I’m staying here, apparently me being here keeps my family in line and “loyal” to your precious crown..”

She heard laughter in Rhaella’s voice, mixed with tears. “I see, you’re planning to give it all up.. Rhaenys is down in the nursery, flying around with that kitten of hers.. Why don’t you just get a knife and get it over with… Is that what you did to Aegon?.. Is it?!”

Elia backed away fuddling with her hands as she tried to distract herself. Once she heard Rhaella’s words she looked back at Rhaella.

Her pause from speaking was like a thousand words, but Dany could see through the lies she hid in her mind. The Dornish girl turned back, her eyes widened with inspiration from what her mother assumed.

“Yes, yes I admit it. Are you happy? I’d rather have my son be put through less pain than what the others plan to do with Targaryen children.”

She could see Elia biting her lip, backing away and continued staring towards the water. The docks were full, but all were silent. Daenerys could see a figure on the water, small but her brothers wife kept watching the tiny ship sail away.

The sound of lightning hit the walls like a whip against skin. When the brightness cleared Daenerys was standing in the dark halls of Dragonstone. The rooms were full of velvet furniture, and tapestries that hung above the walls, all in the colors red and black.

The rain pounded on the doors, as servants began to shut them until a man came racing down the halls on horseback. He clenched the scroll in his hands tightly with a nervous look across his face.

Daenerys walked beside him, but no one had noticed her even walking or breathing. When they reached the Great Hall, she saw a little boy looking out the windows across the storm.

When Rhaella turned her gown stretched out farther and her large protruding belly sticking out. Suddenly Daenerys knew this, she knew all of it and what would come next. She turned to the boy, her brother and the storm that was coming.

The face of her mother had no emotion, only waiting for the message to be read and to hear the words finally say that her father was dead.

Dany could hear the unsettled breaths as she slipped the wax off the parchment. Her fingers shaking slightly. Rhaella’s hand had covered her mouth, her eyes watering and beginning to choke on the air.

Her scream she finally let go had broken windows. The lightning breaking through the glass may have cause it, but the seven hells had come in her mother’s mind.

The servants stared down, some even weeping by the message. Rhaella’s knees sunk down to the grown lying on the floor. Daenerys could see the color of the seal, gold in the shape of a stag.

Elia Martell had predicted right, she thought. Daenerys understood her mother’s tears as well as the other members of the household. They had finally gotten word of the Trident, they finally got the failure written in the ink.

Glass crashed against the floor and screams began again. Rhaella had clutched her stomach as the dark red had begun to stain her gown. Daenerys turned to Viserys who’s frightened face had froze as he held his mother not knowing what to do.

“Help her!” He screamed crying with her blood on his hands. Servants surrounded Rhaella as her cries of pain became louder. The noise and screams was al blacked out when the windows had finally given in and rain of glass came flying down on them.

The halls were wet. Dany could feel the glass under her feet as she walked through the dark rooms. Finally with no where to see, she heard a baby’s cry.

The doors had split open from the storm, and she could see the household running throughout the halls. Paintings, clothing, jewelry, anything they could find was being carried off as they ran out the doors.

Daenerys had caught up with the sound of the cries in an empty bedchamber, ransacked and few pillows and blankets lying on the floor. “Come now little King, it’s time to go.” She heard a woman shush as she bounced the babe wrapped in cloth.

Viserys still lied on the floor, not crying or sadness in his face, just dried tears and a grim look holding Rhaella’s hand. Her pale body laid on the ground, eyes still open and blood surrounded the floor she died on.

“Leave me.” He muttered mixed with a sniffle. Across from him laid a jeweled crown. He lifted it up smearing the drops of blood of it, as he placed it on Rhaella’s head.

“Oh don’t say that, it’s time you protect your sister now.” He turned back towards the servants who waited for him. He looked down at the bundle in the woman’s arms.

“What is it’s name?” He asked bitterly looking down.” Daenerys closed her eyes wanted to hear no more, but if this was a dream she thought, she couldn’t wake up soon enough.

“Your mother had named her Daenerys, she’s storm born you see.” The woman pointed up to the rain drops beginning to stop. He turned away from them and looked down at Rhaella.

“I don’t care. That thing killed my mother, I hope it dies.” Daenerys bit her lips staring at the ground.

“Don’t say little King. Your going to protect her now when you leave for your new home.” She pointed across to the one remaining boat of the fleet that had sunk into the water.

Viserys’ brows furrowed as he looked down at Daenerys. “I’M NOT A LITTLE KING! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD! I WANT MY FATHER! LEAVE ME ALONE!” He screamed with all his might kicking as some held him tight.

Dany looked down to hear herself cry from the noises. Viserys broke free as he threw himself across the ground. “THAT IS NOT MY SISTER! I HATE YOU DAENERYS STORMBORN, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!”

The words echoed across her head so much, it began to throb. The pain rushed all around, Dany felt her legs weaken as she laid across the cold floor.

She opened her eyes and their stood an old creature, wrinkled face and red eyes staring down at her. The old woman walked closer, pointing in shock.

“You see me dragon child. You know my song, the weirwoods forget. The wolves are too loud. Sing me my song, sing it. You know it child, sing me my Song of Ice and Fire.”

Her head felt like it might pop off, as the press kept rushing high, higher, higher, and higher.

“SING IT!”

Her eyes opened to the pale grey sky once again. She could taste the blood dripping into her mouth. In the corner of her eye, she saw red leaves and the wind blowing through the. Whispering, she thought.

Daenerys felt hands on her, and her body bouncing up and down as it walked the ground. She could smell blood, trees, and armor. Her face was laid against a fur cloak of some sort.

Dany could see the silver breastplate, with a direwolf melted on. Her head became heavy and her eyes had begun to shut.
The last words she heard, was a thick accent with an irritating charm in his voice.

“Missed me?”

Chapter Text

ERRR MEERRR GERRDDD we’re in chapter 13!!!! This story is officially an annoying pubescent teenager XD.. SO SO SORRY for taking long, hard to find inspiration.. Now that season 7 has FINALLY arrived, it helped me blend the show/books ideas into this fanfic. ALSO it’s been ONE YEAR since writing this!! Thanks for dealing with the long waits, spelling, and short chapters. More to come and as always, don’t forget to comment. X

Elia of Dorne:

When she closed her eyes she saw his fair hair, and her dark violet marbles for eyes. She thought of the times she held them for hours hearing their little breaths. All the times she dreamed of going home, their smiles dragged her back to the Red Keep.

She had spent most of the day standing on the balcony, listening to the silence. The Blackwater had been a full port, Aerys had forbid any ships from leaving unless he said so. Her good father had called them traitors, she called them people who wanted to live.

They all roamed the halls, running to court to impress them. Now Elia sat alone curled on her bed. If she pressed the blanket hard enough to her face, she could smell Aegon from the times his little face laid against the silk sound asleep.

Suddenly little footsteps came into the room. He claimed to be so quiet, but Elia saw through the Lyseni’s slippers and the swishing of his coloring robes against the walls.

“The ship has left the Blackwater, out of sight. You’re selflessness is a reward for all of Westeros Princess.” His soft voice sounded so calm, and serene. No one could even tell of his plans he had been making.

She lifted herself to look once more to look again. Nothing on the water, they had done it she thought. “The cat… Rhaenys loves that cat, you’re sure she has her cat? She’ll need something to distract her while on the ship.” Elia turned with a nervous look back to Varys.

Her words came to him with a surprise on his face. “Princess Elia, I believe you’ve misunderstood. After King Aerys, Rhaegar was next and he has one heir. A son comes before a daughter-” She grabbed the glass cup of Dornish red and chucked it at the wall beside his head.

“NO, no, no! Don’t you speak, don’t you dare speak to me. Don’t even finish speaking you worthless vermin. You mean to tell me, I chose for which of my children gets to live… Without even telling me?!”

He pursed his lips as Elia paced and gasping for air, and holding onto the chair. “Your son will be safe, Westeros will need an heir if the rebels take control. I’m sorry princess-“

“They’re both his children!” She retched back at him with fury in her voice. Elia could see the clasp of his hands beneath the robes.

“My Lady, forgive me, but this is not Dorne…” She had given up any strength in her legs she just laid on the floor, clasping the little silver blanket, with black dragons on top.

“My little birds in the west tell me Lord Tywin is a day’s ride from here. He hasn’t played a part or given any help in this war… I advise you spend these days with your daughter.”

She chuckled back hysterically at his words. “You mean for me to look at my daughter knowing that I’ve just chosen for her to stay here and what? Wait and see at the gates if we get our throats slit..?”

She heard the sigh in his voice, not knowing how to make it better. When he slid to the door, he turned back to her.
“No matter what happens here Princess Elia, if we're all just a pile of ash at the end of this from the King himself. The day will come when your son will return, to sit on the Iron Throne.”

Daenerys:

Her eyes widened at the roars and screams throughout the room. The noise was muffled from her ears, feeling as if they were full full of wax. The only one to notice was a grey beast with glowing yellow eyes staring back at her.

Her head felt like it was full of bricks, too weak to even lift it. Daenerys could feel their presence in the room. The vibrations their feet made against the floorboard was excruciating.

She could see in the corner of her eye shaggy brown hair, kneeling with their head down in the chair beside her, still holding onto his sword. The other side of her had four men looking down on a small grey figure.

Daenerys could see another with black hair staring down like a sad dog. The muffled sounds were few. The dark, sullen one pointed across the windows. “You never bothered to… that thing… why is she…”

Her ears had a sharp ring to it. The pressure in her ears filled her head with a painful pop. The feeling was like water dripping down her neck.

Most voices were dull, but one voice sounded almost normal in her ears. "I don't care.... you little man.. that beast could be.... wake her up!" The man with chains wrapping his cloak around him, looking like a giant standing tall enough to reach the ceiling.

She shifted her eyes again and could see a fat man in emerald, his mouth closed and chewing something as the rest of them yelled at one another.

Blue eyes widened, they stared right at Dany. He was the only one to see her, and step forward in front of her. He had a nervous look for once, she only noticed the arrogance and attempts of charm from Robb Stark.

When he spoke, she could only hear the ringing. She saw Daario jump up to hearing his words, but she didn’t understand. The tall one pushed the him aside screaming in her face. Still, she could only hear the ringing.

Her heart pounded and she felt the dripping begin again. They stared at one another then at Dany again. She wanted to push them all away but, her face felt sewn shut. Her jaw clenched on it’s own, and her breaths came harder than the next.

They spoke again, but screeched back at them for someone to help her. Finally, a shorter man in all grey pushed them all away from her. She focused on his silver chains dragging his neck lower.

His cold hands pressed against her neck and below her ear. When he lifted, she saw the red on his fingers. For once, she could read his lips as the only one of them spoke slowly. “Leave."

The grey man pushed them through the doors as he reach for a darkened bottle. The doors began to be pushed shut and the revolting taste he poured into her mouth, she felt like gagging and wanting to choke.

Her eyes grew heavy quickly, and she could see the last of them begin to leave. When her eyes started to cringe slowly, to get rid of the taste Daenerys focused on the clear blue eyes still staring at her turning darker until she saw nothing.

Red leaves fell to the ground, she never had seen a plant that shade. She could feel the warm air coming from the gates leading to darkened trees. Still, the crimson red was high enough she could see from the top of the gates.

She walked through the wood, she saw the paleness of a weirwood. The faces carved into the bark had smiles as the red syrup dripped from its wooden eyes.

Below she saw the short older woman again dancing and twirling in front of the tree. Sitting in next to her was a woman laughing with her, she had flowers woven in her hair.

Daenerys could hear the serene song coming throughout. The gentle pulls of the harp were a delightful tune she had never heard before.

Their eyes met and the woman laughed hysterically pulling her hand towards the tree. “He understands, he knows.. He sings my Jenny’s song… Show her, the Song of Ice and Fire.”

Beside sitting on the stump was the face of a tall and beautiful man with the shade of dark indigo eyes. His warm smile towards Daenerys felt homely in a way.

Before he had played another, she could hear the laughter of a child. The little girl ran through the grounds chasing a black kitten, who had the shape of wings on his back. When it ran, the little cat left small bloody paw prints.

The olive skinned girl stopped as she crouched down to look into the cradle being cover by a silver veil covered in little dragons sewn on. When the veil was lifted, the bed was empty and the suns rays made her cringe.

When it cleared, Dany found herself in the throne room. She stood in front of men with golden lion armor on as they bowed to the usurper. Below the steps, were crimson cloaks covering two lumps.

She could see the small olive hand sticking out, and bloody paw prints beside them again. When they lifted the cloak, it was a gory scene of blood.

Most had looked away from the bodies, but she saw the small glimmer in Robert Baratheon’s eyes. None had taken pride in their “conquest”, she could tell by the looks of disgust at the small bundle with a faceless gore of bone, brain, and blood. The only visible part they could even see was the small locks of fair hair.

Sun pierced her eyes so bright her eyes shut, opening them she stood in a dark empty hall. Chairs were knocked over, crossbows shot in the floor, and a pool of blood in the center.

She saw the small woman again kneeling on the floor. She rock back and forth weeping, holding dead flowers in her hands. “The weirwoods wake me and steal my dreams away. There was no need for songs, she was there and they took her away!”

The old woman’s beady red eyes widened as she walked along side the walls. “Don’t you hear the music, blood child? A coat of red, a coat of gold. A lion still has claws..”

She twirled along the hall stepping in the mixture of blood and spilled wine. She circled to again to the center table, the woman stared back at the large wooden chair, with the top carved into a bridge with a tower on each side.

“This one plays the game of the Southern Stranger, you can hear the death in the tune.” Her wrinkly backed away from the bridge throne, her body had a small shudder looking at the seat. Her face saddened as she looked in Daenerys’ direction.

“And her, Lady Trout’s the saddest of them all… CLIIINNKKKK, don’t you hear her heart breaking? So much sadness she cries tears of blood." The dwarf raised herself off the ground as she twirled a bloody knife.

Suddenly she heard the slap across a face from behind, when Daenerys had turned no one was near. Only feast tables with salted pork that still had laid unfinished in a pool of blood.

When she turned back again, the dwarf woman stood in front of her. “You think I’m mad do you, all of us? You may not seem them now Storm child, but you will see it. The weirwoods will show you, their laughter, their sadness, and pain. You will see it all.”

Dany could feel her arm being tugged across the room. When the woman reached for the crossbow shot into the walls far above her, she ushered Daenerys’ hand towards it.

“Touch it, let the Old Gods show you.” Daenerys felt a doubtful sense come to her as the woman looked up at her. Her red eyes had not blinked and had madness flooding them.

She backed away until Dany heard the sigh in her dry voice as the dwarf wrapped her cold hands around her when she pushed her against the wall.

Her small hands were small, but strong enough the push had knocked Dany into the wooden and forcing her to grasp the arrow to pull herself back up. She felt the piercing pinch when it sliced into her palm.

Her legs slid back curled up like a cat on the floor, her eyes grew heavier as the cut on her hand had thickened with blood. Each blink was so than the next, but in the the final one the dark wet hall had begun to light with candles.

She heard such a clangor, Dany thought her head might explode. The noises had a mix of drums, horns, pipes and songs. Suddenly she heard a strange sound she had not heard quite often; laughter.

Daenerys stood in front of men on a balcony, their music was fast and full of life. Their faces had an odd looking watching the men below them. Each tune they watched the old man sitting in his large throne in the center of the hall, waiting for him to speak.

When she looked down to the people, they had smiles all around. Their jugs of wine clashed together, singing, and laughing so hard food was coming out of their mouths.

Their swords were hung above the mantles. The feast had the looks of a truce, or a victory by their attitudes. Banners were hung all around, but three stood higher than them all. Dany could see the dark colored bridge on one side, a silver trout with red and blue field on the other, and the grey direwolf in the center of them all.

“On to Casterly Rock!” She heard a man below yell, and the sound of glass breaking but they still laughed it all off. She recognized men, but before had been a darker sense. Their faces before had been grim and angry. Now they wore smiles across all of their faces.

The giant, he had at least a dozen of empty cups surrounding him as he sang to men with fake smiles and rather odd hats. When he turned his head away, they looked at one another with a stern look and poured the giant another cup of wine.

More men eating, drinking, and yelling, an older man with black armor, carved into what looked like scales. He tossed aside his cup and walked out the doors. When he left, the doors closed with him.

The loud, upbeat tune had lowered to a dark melancholy sound. None of them noticed the change, only one. A woman of auburn hair, looked up to the band with a look of disbelief. Her blue eyes softened to another, a couple.

The husband had his head turned, but she could see auburn curls that matched the older woman. Next to him was a tan, olive colored girl. She had a foreign look to her, Braavosi Daenerys guessed, but her glowing skin had been unblemished. The thing that caught her attention was a stretch in the hem of her gown where her stomach laid.

“And so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere…” The dwarf twirled along the floor dancing with a sullen face, but no one could hear her singing, or see Dany herself. Her long white hair went down to the ground and fell upon the couple’s feet.

She didn’t notice, but he did. When the man turned slowly, he looked down at his foot. Daenerys saw blue eyes, the same as before and the same face as well. Robb Stark turned towards the old man in his bridge throne when he called, “Your Grace.”

His blue eyes before seemed darker, when Dany had first met him they were a darkened grey like a storm. Now when she saw him in this light, they were bright laughing eyes when he looked around the room at his friends, and the foreign woman.

“My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift.” Daenerys looked up to the lights and she saw one candles flame begin to dimmer. Soon enough, a gust of movement had blown it out.

Dany heard the same slap strike again, harder and louder. She saw red haired woman, jump from her chair yelling to him. She could hear little footsteps tap quickly against the ground as chairs were knocked down, and the music had begun to die with it.

The slice made her spine shiver, she never enjoyed the sound; blades being pulled from their sheath. The cry she heard in the back of her head was deafened by the sound of a blade striking in, but just hearing the gasp was painful to her.

When Daenerys turned she saw the foreign woman standing out of her chair, her breaths held back and her hand grasping her stomach that had begun to darken with blood. As she stood again, her face froze wanting to scream in pain, but her just fingers shook touching the blood.
When she saw the looks on Robb Stark, it was like time going backwards. His tall and sturdy figure had been a disguise, slowly she could see his face fade back with confused looks of a boy.

Before any of them could think, she heard the slice of blades glide across the air. Dany saw the cringe in his blue eyes when the crossbows came flying down towards him. On by one, each shot through him dragging him to the ground.

Daenerys for some reason felt her lips begin to purse, and her palms start to sweat. Behind her, she felt the push of chairs as the happy drunken men begin to rise. Their wine had fallen to the ground when they rose seeing him fall.

All they did was stand, and they were struck down. The smaller ones, with the leather hats pulled the Lords back and their daggers sliced and stabbed. Their looks were not of pain nor anger, just confused.

Gasps, moans, screams, and cries were heard across the room. The was the real music Daenerys thought as she back away. Her eyes still fixed on them all. Another arrow let out and she saw the auburn wisps of hair flip as the woman fell against the floors.

Dany could feel her hands clench, wanting to look away. She wanted this to end, to stop seeing their faces; but it wouldn’t come soon enough.

Of all the screams and blades being plunged, she could see the old man sit in his bridge chair and pour himself more wine. Throughout the hall, his dark smile was the one to remember.

“FUCKING FREYS!” She saw the true form of the giant be born. When he stood, he had tossed the table out of his way. His teeth growled at the men with knives surrounding him, like the beast he was.

His legs shook slightly, and his balance was off, but his arms still grabbed the first man and Dany heard the snap of his neck. Another ran towards him and the bearded giant clenched his jaws onto the side of one’s ear.

The one thing that had him stop fighting, she saw a hand grasp the top of the table as one stood again. Dany could see the auburn curls rise from the ground. The tall man pushed forward to pull him up, but men ushered in with pale pink men on their shields knocking the drunk Lord to the ground.

She saw the grey cloak soaked in red begin to move. Dany could see the blue eyes widened as he grabbed hold of a chair to stand. When he stood the cross bows shook in his joints to make him cringe with each step.

"The King in the North arises." Daenerys heard the dry chuckle in the old mans voice, they all stopped to listen. The whole hall watched him waiting to see his next move, but he had nothing to do next.

His hands fell onto her stomach, blood laid on his hands when he lifted them. Dany could see his face, sunken into despair. Robb Stark held cradled her lifeless body in his arms, his face, blank and frozen staring down at her.

She turned her head away from them, Dany didn’t want to be like the rest who watched him fall apart. In the corner of her eye she saw bright flames begin to build in the darkness through the windows. The sound of screams filled the night, the grey tents start to burn and their direwolf banners turn to ash.

She heard someone speaking, but it grew silent looking through the glass. Throughout the orange flames drinking everything in its sight, she saw the grey blur rush through the dying men. Little arrows plunged down and she saw it splatter on the ground, sunken and dark red spread.

Still, the silver had started moving and dragging itself away from the bridge into the wood. More crossbows were shot, but the speed of whatever it had been was faster than the arrows. The sound of a wolf’s howl echoed off the stone walls.

“Take me for your hostage, but let Robb go. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please… PLEASE!” Her voice had dried up, all water coming down through her eyes. The woman’s grip never let go of the knife she held against the girl’s throat.

The old wrinkled man laughed at her begging, he questioned why he would let him walk past the doors. She stiffened the blade tighter against the young wife’s throat. Her words that stung Dany were her “honor as a Tully, honor as a Stark.”

He laughed again, the jowls in his cheeks turns upwards with his smile at the thought of finding a new wife. They all turned heads when a groan came alive when Robb Stark stood again.

“Mother…” His voice had the sense of misery, and losing the strength to do do anymore. She looked back at the auburn haired woman, her face; a mother losing her child.

Blue eyes stared back at her, throughout the whole time Daenerys had stood below the balcony only one person saw her in the hall. His brow furrowed deeply, and his eyes blinked quickly just noticing her now.

Before he said more, large footsteps slithered across the hall. A pink cloak rushed in front of them and he pulled the “King in the North” into a whisper.

She heard the piercing blade reach out, Dany could hear the longsword thrust through his chest and twisted. The blue eyes that had changed from darkened storm to clear water, had turned dark and rolled back as he hit the ground.

Dany heard the woman cry, she saw her screech and gasp as she laid on the floor. Her long nails clawed through her cheeks, leaving the woman with red tears. She closed her eyes to wait out the woman’s screams, soon enough they ended.

When she opened her eyes, Daenerys found herself with bloody hands. She dropped the blade still in her hands, the wife’s slit throat at her feet. She could feel the blood dripping down her face, but Dany couldn’t remember the wounds.

She looked down and saw auburn locks draped below her shoulders. Below her feet, she saw her reflection in a pool of blood. Dany looked to the reflection she saw someone else’s blue eyes staring back at her, someone’s red hair.

Daenerys had no strength to move or do anything. She just watched the eyes looking down on her, seeing herself. Footsteps approached and she felt the cold blade pressed against her neck. It was a cold feeling, but soon enough she felt nothing at all; only the blades red bite.

Humming, she heard an irritating tune spreading around the room like a sickness. Paper brushed against each other again and again. Everything in there seemed to annoy her.

Daenerys grasped the top of the wooden board of the cot she laid in, the blood rushed all the way to the tip of her head. In front of her, a thin grey man sat in front of her pressing a book close enough to his face.

“Where, where am I?” Dany shut her eyes when she lifted herself. The man did nothing for her, only flipped another page of his book.

“Where am I?” She slapped the pitcher of water next to her on the ground, the jug hitting the floor gave a pinch in her ears. The grey one finally lifted his head up turning his head around the room.

“We are in a room, keep maybe I’m not familiar with the building plans but I think it’s a castle.” He babbled on into the stone mason’s work, and Daenerys lost interest in his voice quickly.

Daenerys caught a glimpse through the windows, the wind blowing harsh against the glass until it was about to crack. Snow fell on the edge into the creases piling up. She was in the North.

He went on and on about it, then suddenly he slammed it shut and jumped up staring at her. He clapped his hands loudly, waiting for her reaction. He poked around at her ears raising his eyebrows to an almost pleased look.

“You’re a healer?” She asked. He nodded back circling around to his desk. His tiny fingers flipped through shelves shaking and smelling vials. He poured out a thick, milky, drink into a cup.

“Indeed, a trained maester of the Citadel. People who I can stand to be around may call me Morgryn, but you may not. I don’t know you.” He spoke quickly. The old man rushed around his tiny room dragging around his chains.

He pushed the cup towards her face. When it reached underneath her nose, her mind had already begun to fade. Dany turned her head away, and he sighed and slid back.

“Milk of the poppy would have helped, you can endure the aches and bruises from falling out of the sky on your own.” She fell, Daenerys thought. Drogon shaking her off, and a loud thud. Drogon, she thought.

“This is Winterfell. I need to leave, leave now.” She rose off the cot and grasping the wall. The maester looked at her like she was mad, he chuckled to himself and begun to stand.

“I wouldn’t do that. The halls are filled with very tall, bearded, men who may step on you. I’ll send for a servant, they’ll give you a room or whatever you planned on running to. Maybe some furs, the bloody Starks are right, winter has come and the wolves are everywhere.”

The small maester collected his books and scurried out the door. When he left Daenerys pulled herself back up to walk towards the window. Hundreds of corpses, looking like ants from far away were dragged into piles and torches lit the field to burn.

The smell of burning and rotting flesh had begun to seep through the windows. She turned away from the windows and could hear their feet hitting the ground. "We.. We save them all…. Those highborn shits forget who... What was I saying?"

She supposed the small maester was right, when Danny opened the door slightly, drunken northerners the size of bears waddled the halls. They caught their breath and started spurting out nonsense once again. One, his fingers the size of stones pointed across the room.

"These lords giggle and whisper like little girls in their dining hall with our King! We should be in their as much as them, we're the bastards killing their enemies for them-" They stopped their yelling when the doors opened again.

"Do shut up, your simple thoughts make my ears bleed. Go on make yourself useful, the stables need cleaning." An older voice ordered them like they were children.

When she shooed them away, the woman marched through the halls like the queen of her castle. Her eyes were grey, with a hint of darkness that was more dangerous than all of them. Dany could feel her boots press against the floorboard, creaking loud enough for the woman’s eyes to wonder.

She caught a glimpse of her, she looked at Dany head to toe and back at the pile of furs she had in her hands. “Well, you must be the one I was sent for. Looks like you found me.” Dany could feel her skinny hands pushing her back into the room with her hands full.

The woman tossed aside her bundles of furs she brought with them. “Don’t have many colors to choose, hope you like grey. Myra is my name, if you need to know.” Dany could see her concerned looks at her torn leathers stained in dragon smoke.

It had a rough touch to it, when she lifted up one of the dresses. She could feel the heat of the fur breathing against her skin. Dany could feel the air brushing against her open back. When her elbows turned up to pull her dress, she groaned regretting turning away the maester's medicine.

Daenerys could hear the scuff of her voice with the woman Myra still there with her. The floor creaked again when she walked towards her. Suddenly Dany had to gasp feeling the tightening from her chest.

“Were you raised by wolves? A girl like you, not learning any lacing…” Dany could feel her chest sucked in and tightened. The woman’s nimble fingers twirled through the bodice quickly and pulled again.

When she finished Dany pulled back the strings, when the gown loosened she gasped finally breathing again. Still, she could see the woman’s look of disgust in the reflection. “You really should fix that.” Her voice was dry and hoarse and she hurried back pulling at her hair.

Her scalp was ripped and pulled throughout this painful hair dragging. The wind from coming north had left her hair knotted and tangled. Her silver gold locks had darkened to an almost grey like color from the dirt and soot.

“I knew a girl, highborn like yourself. Her hair mangy looking like one of the boys, but wild like one of the wolves. She even had one herself.” When she spoke, the lady Myra’s face softened to old memories, but hardened again.

“You’ve been here long?” Daenerys finally spoke. Myra nodded back letting go of her finished hair. When she looked back in the mirror, her grey gown with silver furs draped all around her. Her hair was detangled of its knots and had left behind a wave of silver locks.

The dress hid her bruises, her hair could trick them with her elegant features. All she needed to do was wear a fake smile and Dany would see her mother’s reflection in her own face.

She didn’t know how to react, all Dany could feel was her face scrunch up in an unpleased way. There was only one way to describe the new furs, gown, and shades of grey; Stark.

Throughout the times of fixing her mane of hair, Daenerys could see the odd looks Myra made. They were the same she had been given when coming here. All of them knew who she was.

“I see you, your looks. You know who I am. Where is he.. Where is my dragon?” Dany waited for an answer, but the older woman looked away. Her eyes fell on the window layered with snow on the glass.

“Not a normal day a girl comes falling out of the sky. Quite rare for a Targaryen to show up as well, and we got both. Your looks to me, us, the North. You think we’re savages, well you’re wrong. Your beast left you, we’re just the ones to bring you in and fix what your dragon did.” The older serving woman busied herself walking around the room to stop their talking.

Before they spoke more, the door opening turned their eyes towards the dusty brown pants with daggers dragging on the side of each pant leg. Daario entered with a smirk across his face with a swift bow to Dany.

“You’re awake, and here.” He said with surprise in his voice. When Daenerys caught a glimpse of his face, she saw a change since last seeing him. His skin had been glowing and from Meereen’s suns. Now the warmth had been lost and filled with dull and pale coloring from staying so far North.

“Hard to begin plans when supposed allies butcher households and proclaim one of their own King.” Daenerys lifted the heavy skirts into her palms to stand with him. She had much to know what she had done sending a supposed to be dead Stark back to the roots of his home and expecting full allegiance.

“Hard to stop them when you lose half your men on a battle field, and you’re surrounded by Stark companions.” He scuffed shortly at the thought, stopped by the lady Myra's glares.

“We’re going to have to meet sooner or later, see if Robb Stark kept his promise.” When she spoke she had doubt in her voice. Dany made an agreement with a formally dead sellsword on his way to drinking himself into another early grave. What she sent North, had brought back a King.

The looks on Daario’s face stopped her leaving this room. “Left quickly into one of the halls, all of them. Starks, their men, even saw some wolves. Their guards stopped me from following, not even seeing wherever this hall of theirs is. Not quite accepting of foreign friends.

Their eyes turned back to the serving woman in the corner. She chuckled at them, but their eyes never left her. Her silver eyes sighed and looked away, but Dany still watched her. Finally Myra looked up with angry glares shooing them away.

“Insolent children, stop your staring. The Great Hall, outside the yard. You could've just followed the loud drunken voices. Go now, you already irritate me.” Daario followed her orders, pulling the doors open for her walking out into the pale grey sky.

They courtyard filled with loudness, but all stopped when her boots stepped out onto the ground. Dany could see the looks of each soldier in Winterfell, watching her every move.

Before walking into the hall, she red leaves blew towards them. Daenerys turned across to another set of gates. The other side filled with hundreds of trees stretching across to the other side of the walls.

In the center of them all, a pale and bone white tree trunk drizzling blood red sap through it’s tearful eyes. She could feel the warmth coming from the gates, the heat flushing up to her hands.

Dany remembered that spot, it had been the same spot she could hear a harp playing it’s melancholy tune. If she closed her eyes she could still hear the song and see the one playing it. When she opened them, Daario stood ahead waiting for her.

More Second Sons sat on barrels drinking and crossing their arms to keep their hands warm outside. They had displeased looks at the snow that came tumbling down on them. Daario had kicked a wagon loud enough for them to hear, soon they followed behind Daenerys inside.

She could hear the echoes from the hall of their booming voice. Dany couldn’t tell whether they were sounding angry or perhaps happy. Either way, they weren’t loud enough to hear what they were speaking about.

Two guards waited at the end of the room, blocking the doors. Daenerys could see their hands tighten the grip on the swords that hung on their hip. She could hear Daario’s laughter behind her.

“Now, let’s not start something you can't finish. All your people say Winter is Coming, you should live to see it.” Their weary looks from Daario's words left them to give in. When each of their arms pull the handles stretching open to Winterfell’s hall.

When her boots hit the ground, their words turned into nothing. Silence struck them all. Dany looked at their faces, just once. A table sat at the end of the hall, four sat in the center and one face she remembered.

Beside the rows of men, she walked along. The only sounds to grace their presence was Daario dragging along one single chair. He stopped at the edge of the table across from the children of the wolf.

She waited for them to speak, but no one did. All anyone in the hall had done, was turn their heads.

And all eyes fell on her.

Chapter Text

HI BOO BOO BEARS!! (I’m running out of greetings, don’t judge my madness..) I have returned with chapter 14, sort of a part 2 to the last one’s ending. New meet & greets in this chapter, so hope you like it. Sorry for the wait, I keep getting hit with road blocks for this! Enjoy, be merry, and tell me what you think with a comment. X

Daenerys:

Her fingers clicked the top of the long table as she waited for their response. They shared their whispers and grumbles, but no one had spoken yet. When they came in the doors, Dany could see four wolves sitting in one row together. They all wore the same looks.

Her last greeting with the eldest had his face stuck when he saw Daenerys, not knowing what to do. Another, his face had a solemn look to him. His dark hair and grey eyes matched his spirit and sulking look.

Next to each of them a girl, on their sides. The older one, had a classic beauty to her. Her fiery red hair went well with the hardened glares she wore. Daenerys thought of her to be too warm, full of color to be one of the many shades of a grey Stark. Still, she saw the same on her gown as the rest, a silver direwolf.

When Daenerys looked to the younger girl, in her eyes she saw just her own reflection in grey eyes. Outside she saw brown haired girl with a calm face, but she was hollowed out; empty inside.

The seconds she sat there felt like minutes in the silence. Finally someone stood to break it apart. The first one to speak was the dark and gloomy one. He didn’t look back at Dany when he stood up, just looking on at the old men sitting across from them in the hall.

“We shall continue then-“ They stopped the sulking one from even letting the rest of the words come out of his mouth. Their angry glares turned back to Dany.

“Why is she here?!” One of the booming voices echoed throughout the hall, she wasn’t truly sure what they wanted to hear. Daenerys collected her thoughts to answer their demands, instead she stopped and would watch the show of the animals in their natural place.

One spoke, the rest of the flock began to yell amongst themselves once again. A screech of the centered chair caught them all off guard. His expression hardened looking back against their squabbling.

“We will all get our answers, but we have much more to discuss. Let him speak.” When he finished speaking, his head turned towards Daenerys with a tense look on his face. Still, they listened to him.

When Daenerys looked back to Robb Stark, she saw the change in his face. His curls had been neatly cut, instead of the thick mop of auburn he wore in Meereen. His face had been trimmed as well, looking almost noble. The North seemed to have dug out the King they once had.

“We need every maester to look through their records of the longest winters, the long night, and history, tales or no of the white walkers. Everyone, age ten to sixty will drill daily with spears, pikes, bow and arrows.”

When the dark eyed one paused, they nodded and pounded the tables with their plans. “It’s about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight.” An older man with aged beard and banners of an iron fist agreed with him. That’s when he pursed his lips before speaking again.

“Not just the boys.. The North cannot be defended if only half the population is fighting.” Their voices dropped looking at one another. Dany noticed this stranger had a boldness to himself mentioning his plans to a room of old men with looks of disbelief. The same man who spoke stood again with anger, disbelief possibly both.

“You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter’s hand? I take orders from my King, not his bastard brother.” When the man finished speaking, it came together on whom the solemn one was. Looking back at them Dany saw little resemblance to the brothers.

Robb Stark tried to rise to defend his brother, but the wave of his hand stopped him. The grey eyes of the brother glimmered as he scuffed at the Lord’s words. “Aye Lord Glover, what would I know? Just a bastard..”

All the Starks, the Lords surrounding, even Daenerys herself raised her eyebrows to just bow and accept his harsh words. Then his head rose up staring the Lord Glover in the eye.

“You believe I just sat and watch and see what’s coming. You can go back to Deepwood Motte, and wait for the storm to pass. But they bring the storm, they will come to your gates and swallow you whole if you choose to not listen to just a “bastard.”

Glover didn’t speak, he only stared back at the dour words of the baseborn brother. The tension was thick enough to cut it with the blades they carried with them. Suddenly a short figure stood, catching their attention.

“I don’t plan on knitting by the fire, while men fight for me. I may be small, and a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as any of you.. Most of you.” The younger girl turned her eyes towards Daenerys at the last part.

The Lord Glover tried to break their arguing, but she stopped him again with speaking of defending the North herself. When they both ended their jabs back at one another, the girl turned back to the direwolf long table.

“We’ll begin training every man, woman, boy, and girl on Bear Island.” The rest of them hit their fists against the tables cheering her, as did the Lord Glover with bowing his head to the young lady.

Robb Stark stood for the first time and began to speak. “While we’re preparing our attack, we need to sure up our defenses. My brother, former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch has given us much more help with knowledge of the Wall, than we deserve.”

He glared back at the older Lord again when he spoke last. “With the lack of men, I ask, for I am not King of the Free Folk to help us survive this winter together.” She didn’t know of when he spoke of “Free Folk,” but Dany saw grey darkened animal fur with a feral looking man stand up.

“Aye, so you want us to mind the castles for you?” A red bearded man taller than most of them in the room walked forward strutting through the hall as men gave a grimace of mistrust.

The dark haired brother spoke again to the red headed one. “The last we saw the Night King was at Hardhome, the closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch by the Sea.”
He nodded back to them in agreement. “Then that’s where we’ll go. Looks like we’re the Night’s Watch now.” The wildling man chuckled staring back at the scowls of the Northern lords.

“If they breach the Wall, the first two castles in their path are Last Hearth and Karhold.” Another voice grumbled hearing the words. Dany turned to see his face, the drunken giant she saw before, glum and sullen, his head lying on his arms as he listened to them.

“The Umbers and the KarStarks betrayed the North. Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing.” Another man chimed in. Daenerys could see the cloak he wore, iron studs on a bronze field. She remembered the color from the painted table, somewhere in the Vale.

The tall man with chains wrapped in his clothes rose kicking the chair he sat on when he heard the words. “Anyone who lays a hand on my Last Hearth, I will happily burn down your castles with all of you in it. What was that Royce, Umbers betraying the Starks?!”

“Aye, GreatJon I said it. Who’s son was it that brought Rickon Stark to Bolton’s bastard, and where is he now? Buried in the crypts with his father!” The white haired Lord Royce spat back at him.

Dany could see clear now the giant whom they call “GreatJon” was an Umber. When the lord mention one’s son, she could hear the blades begin to pull, until men held the Umber lord back.

“I didn’t say we were scholars like the old shits in the Citadel, but we are LOYAL. You, you don’t talk about my son. If you do so, it will be the last words you’ll say when I am finished.”

When the blades had begun to be drawn, fists slammed into the table loud enough for it to crack the wood it was made of. “Sit. Down!” She heard Robb Stark yell from the end of the room.

The men stopped their fights and shouting. None of them had known what to say, to ease their problems in the room. Only one person spoke.

“Whatever had happened during this, the castles committed no crimes. We need every fortress we have for the war to come. We should give them to new families, loyal to us who supported us against Ramsay.” When the older girl had spoken, most of them agreed with her more than either of the two brothers.

“The KarStarks and the Umbers have fought beside the House Stark for centuries, why strip their families of their ancestral homes because of one member’s crimes and reckless actions?” The brother with the white wolf laying at his feet said again, going against what seemed to be his sister.

“So there’s no punishment for treason, and no reward for loyalty?” The girl turned back to Robb Stark, waiting for his answer, as did his brother beside him. When he began to speak, the the black haired one stepped back into the discussion.

“Father always said, “The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.” We always tried since we could remember to live by those words. Taking a home from families it’s belonged to for centuries will break all that our father did and make it into nothing.”

Daenerys could see the two Stark siblings bickering and snapping back at one another on the same problem. She could see his blue eyes hazed in conflict looking back at the tall headed Umber’s worried looks.

He finally stood and their heads turned waiting for him to speak. “Harold Karstark died in the battle, and SmallJon…” He bit his lip when before he could finish with a sullen look to the one he called GreatJon.

She could see his chest when he took a final breath before finishing. “SmallJon Umber died as well. Lord Umber during your imprisonment at The Twins, you titles were passed to your heir. Now they have been passed to the next in line.”

The giant of a man’s eyes widened at the thought. “A boy, he’s just a boy, he’s done nothing of treason!-“ Their “King in the North” stopped the panicked Lord again.

“No son will be punished for a father’s actions. Only what they do will matter, I give them the choice to honor these oaths their ancestors made long before. Ned Umber, Alys Karstark. Come forward.”

The boy stood first, it didn’t made a difference in height when he was sitting Daenerys thought. He looked no older than ten with a nervous look on his face. Then came a girl, young and scared as the other had been when they stepped forward.

“For centuries, our houses fought side by side on the battlefield. I ask you to pledge your loyalty, once again to House Stark. To serve as our banner men, and come to our aid when called upon.” No one spoke, they only waited.

Soon enough the swords they carried were pull out in front of them. He ordered them to stand. “Yesterday’s wars don’t matter anymore, the North will ban together.” His voice echoed across the room.

Dany heard them ask again to stand beside them. They responded quickly, at the same time. Then the words of “Now and Always.” bounce across the walls, she could almost hear ringing.

Their fists slammed and they cheered. She could see the smiles they wore proudly, by just saying a few words and promising to serve a Stark. Daenerys even saw the small grin she saw on Stark, quite different from last she saw, bloodied and broken.

Dany caught eyes with the brother as he fiddled with a small broken sealed note. When she caught him staring, his grey eyes widened and turned back looking at the hall. “There is one more..”

“This message was sent to me from Samwell Tarly, he was my brother at the Night’s Watch. A man I trust as much as anyone in this world. He discovered this map, a map of Dragonstone that uncovers a mountain of Dragonglass under the castle.”

Dany pursed her lips, waiting for the moment she knew was coming. She wouldn’t speak or offer anything, she wanted to hear them ask. “Dragonglass kills White Walkers, it’s more valuable to us more than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons of it.”

For a moment she found humor in their faces, seeing the prideful looks, not wanting to give it up for something they seemed to need. She would do it for them. “I’d be willing to allow allies who were to swear fealty to me to mine this dragonglass.”

She turned back to Robb Stark, staring back at him wanting to hear who she was speaking to. “Not usurpers who take what is mine by right.” Dany stood still, not moving a muscle even when the Lords snapped back at her.

They stared back at one another, Daenerys wouldn’t back down and neither would he. Then the Northern Lords barked back like wild dogs. They snapped at her loud enough with “How dare” and calling her a foreigner all at once she couldn’t hear what one or the other had said.

“Forgive me Your Grace.” Daenerys turned back to the brother, he tried to be fair when he spoke. “There are no sides when it comes to this. Allies or ‘usurpers’ and whatever we all are to each other doesn’t matter. We are not the enemy.. The dead are the enemy.”

His words pulled her back for a moment. “The dead? Forgive me..” Dany realized that there wasn't a name to fit the dark haired one with the brooding face.

He looked back at them for a moment, the scuffs and looks of the old men waiting for him to say it. “Jon Snow.” He said proudly, not listening nor looking back at them.
“Jon Snow.. You speak of stories meant to scare children, why should I listen to these when I have real enemies to deal with.” He sighed at her and his grey eyes puzzled as if he knew she would say it.

“The army of the dead is real, the White Walkers are real, the Night King is real. If they get past the Wall, while we’re all squabbling amongst ourselves.. We’re finished.” He seemed to speak truly, but she couldn’t give Jon Snow the answer he wanted.

“You seem to have.. Strong beliefs on this matter, but I do not know you or your intentions. I won't inflict them on those who are still on Dragonstone, not knowing if they are at risk if I let you through.” He seemed to have a talent for brooding, for it was the only emotion he had during their whole conversation.

She stopped to look at them, sighing, angry, and disappointed looks all around her. Her words were nothing to them, only more reason to stand against her. Dany pursed her lips, inhaled trying to come to a balance.

“Your men would be allowed entrance into Dragonstone, for this dragonglass you need. But this will only happen on one thing.” She turned back to Robb Stark looking at his glum face, waiting for her to say it.

“Bend the knee Lord Stark.”

They all snapped back at her like wild dogs. Tyrion told her she would be dealing with proud old men who wanted justice. Daenerys looked around the room and saw not her but stubborn little children.

“Why should the North rule under you? Because you have the blood of your father, the man who killed our uncle and burned our grandfather alive?” The red haired girl stepped in with her father Aerys’ work. It always went back to him, Dany never knew him, but they always had to compare.

As they should have, the Northerners agreed and cheered with her words. Another stood, the GreatJon had much to say by the look of his face.

“Lady Sansa speaks true, we don’t know you. You’re not our Queen, you just want us to win your wars and bend our knees. That’s why he is our King, he came back for the North. He’s the King we chose.”

Daenerys turned back to him in awe, she finally understood. She thought his silence was odd for him, his sullen looks. Robb Stark carried the guilt of hiding what he did while his people rotted away; drinking under a sellswords name in Essos with not a care at all.

He knew what she realized, his face eased waiting for the burden to be lifted with Daenerys telling them. He stared back at her, waiting for her to choose. Little did he know..

“I know what my father did, he was an evil man. I ask you forgive his crimes against your family on my behalf. And to not a judge a daughter on the sins of her father..” She saw the surprise in their faces, and none stopped her from talking this time.

“I didn’t come here to burn your kingdoms to ash or what else you may have assumed. I came for peace, what it was before. With a Targaryen sitting the Iron Throne and a Stark as Warden of the North.” She spoke ignoring the rolling of their eyes.

“Who else remembers that peace, when we went south for war and it ended at the Trident with the silver bastard falling to Robert’s war hammer?” Dany heard them whisper.

She gritted her teeth and pursed her lips before she started again. “Whatever peace could have been, it will not with Cersei Lannister ruling.” She cringed when she thought of it.

“Winter is here, and just the beginning. The Lannister woman isn’t that simple to march North, Southerners can’t handle the cold like us.” A younger man one pointed out, she could tell he wasn’t just talking about Cersei Lannister.

“And how long did it take for any of us to believe winter was actually here? Until the snows piled up at our gates. We can’t fight Cersei, and what is farther north alone.” Dany finally heard Robb Stark speak up after letting his men speak all they like. From what he said, he may have been defending her.

A round man stepped forward with dusty green leathers that stretched wider that could fit two men in it together. His face had been red and gasping when he rose.

“If Cersei Lannister would blow up the Sept of Baelor with her whole court inside, and what others are saying she had some monster in her Kingsguard throw the boy Tommen from the Red Keep, do you think she’d care sending men North to rip us from our keeps?” The larger lord asked the rest of the them.

She could see him twiddling with his hands and fingers looking like he was counting in his head before he spoke again. “How many men do we truly have ten, fifteen thousand at the most? And Jon Snow, how many of them coming?” He turned back to the brother.

He spoke with a brooding face and pursed his lips as the rest of the Lords looked back for an answer. “Hundreds and thousands..” Dany heard the men grumble and roar almost as if their fear was said in yelling.

She saw the one they called Jon Snow jump back and stop their words. “And more if we plan on fighting Cersei! South is not the way to go find your enemies, it’s only North..”

“Yes, they’re North.. They’re everywhere, and we can’t fight all of them alone.” The larger man with the merman embroiled on his doublet stepped forward to Daenerys and looked back at Robb Stark.

“I saw some pages in a book once about the Long Night, how fire can kill what is coming. Long after reading that I saw a creature so magnificent that men feared the fire it could breath, and one of them left you here.” She stiffened her back knowing what he would ask of her.

“I will do this only with my King’s blessing, but I Wyman of the House Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, and Warden of the White Knife will lay my men at your cause. With this promise I ask you bring your own men and beasts loyal to you, farther North than you have been.”

Dany pursed her lips, seeing she may have been wrong with who this man was. For she only saw an old man with a rather big shape to him. Now, he had revealed himself to be a calculating man hiding under his merman sigils.

Daenerys could see the other Stark bannermen staring at Lord Manderly with hatred and disgust. They looked to him like a traitor but he stopped them in their works. “I said before with my King’s blessing, and I still mean my King. There is only one thing that must happen before I send any Manderlys.”

Lord Manderly looked back to Robb Stark bowing his head, as if he was doing it all for him. He'd let his own bannermen and lords mock him for the son of Eddard Stark. “The North.” He said plain as day.

“Renounce your claim to it, for we know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark.” He bowed to the younger girl with the Ser Jorah’s sigil, Daenerys clenched her fists with what she’d call an agreement.

“Let us be free and independent while you have the last six or what is left of it. Free the North.” His demands weren’t even for himself, all for one who barely even spoke during all of this.

All she had done, all she had lived was to go home. Dany was reminded everyday of her blood, no matter which Mad man she was related to, her claim was the only claim. She stood up, her ribs aching and bruised and she stared back to the Lord Manderly once more.

“Then you may keep your men my Lord. I was born to rule the seven kingdoms, and I will.” She heard their gasps and yelling again she could hardly care for it anymore.
The Manderly Lord sighed quietly with a disappointed look on his face. “Perhaps you will someday, but not with my men.” He bowed again to the Starks before striding out of the hall. Another man stood, bowing again and walking away.

The rest followed like a flock of birds. Few stared back, but they bit their lips as followed their bannermen out. Lord Royce had stopped to turn back to her. “I do not know you girl, but I remember Aerys. I remember your brother Rhaegar as well, and the poor Lady Lyanna. Lord Rickard, Brandon and the faces of the men we sent south. Now they lie under the dirt.”
Dany had no words so say, but Lord Royce had more as he turned to the Starks. “A Targaryen cannot be trusted.” She stood back seeing all of them leave, not a care to look back. She did not know them, nor did they know her. All but her name pulled them away.

She thought of Aerys’ grim face, how she envied to erase his existence from all their eyes, even hers. Now she stood in the hall, alone, because of her name. Except for one clapping behind her.

“If that was supposed to gain you allies, you'll need to work on that.” Daenerys might've hated his voice calling back to her, but she supposed Robb Stark wasn't lying. She turned back to the empty tables with one left sitting waiting for her answer.

His face softened, looking for a response to his jokes, but he knew he would get none. His face softened as he looked embarrassed with his hands stressing through the curls on his head. She held her breath, feeling like her head would burst.

Instead she let out her breaths, staring back at him. “Do you remember what you were supposed to do? How you got here, how the Second Sons came to fight your battles? Do you recall who's armies did that for you, and what you were to do with your bannermen?”

He just stared back at her blinking, she scuffed at him. “Of course you don’t.” It didn't matter if he was a Stark or was supposed to have honor like Tyrion mentioned. He had been a drunk with little memory they had dragged out and put a direwolf on his clothes.

When she rolled her eyes turning back, she heard him jump up following her across the hall. “No, no I remember… I was drunk most of my times in that pyramid, but I swear I couldn’t have been..” Dany saw him press his hands firmly against his head leaning trying to have what was left of his memory.

“He, they took my drinks already before I left. It, just all goes blurry, foggy, and my head.. I just can't remember!” He tossed the cup of wine that was on the table as it hit the wall. Red dripped down, and Dany turned back to see if anyone outside had heard him.

He pressed his hands to his temples, she couldn't tell if it was meant to be a show for her to have mercy. Still, she saw the shame in his face with forgetting much. “The North.” She reminded him.
“I asked of you to bring the North to my cause, against Cersei. Now they call you King in the North and demand their freedom.” She wouldn't admit it, but she may have been helping him with resembling what was left of the conversations in Meereen.

“If they call you “King”, they are your subjects to follow your rule. Why is it you haven't told them of this pact you made coming here? To bend the knee, and go south once more.” The last part she spoke, she saw his head raise and nod against her words.

“I will not have them fight my battles, or yours even so. I may have planned on before, but not now. They had gone through each of the seven hells and back to fight my battles long before you came here.” He nodded again to his words stroking his wolf that sat at his feet.

“You plan on having them hide in their homes while the rest of the country is at war?” She asked him. Before she even finished he came back at her with more to say.
“Oh they’ll be fighting for something, just not south The real enemy is of the North.” She scuffed at him going back to this “great danger” his brother had spoken of before.

“As far as I can tell, you are the enemy of the North.” Dany spat back at him. She saw blue eyes roll back into his head when she spoke. “You believe this... enemy.” She agreed with him on the name that no one would say it’s real title.

“You haven’t even been North to see it for yourself, how should I believe the word of someone who has no proof of it. What was his name, Jon Snow? You want me to put my trust in his word?” She saw him nod his head up agreeing with her.

“I’ve always put my trust in my brother and he’s never made me regret it.” She saw the faith he had in this Jon Snow. But what good was faith in Gods, or people she thought. One should only have faith in themselves, for they may be the only ones who wouldn’t betray you Daenerys reminded herself.

“I spent years in foreign lands to get what is mine. I will not waste that time I was in exile for losing all I’ve done for faith and believing in stories.” He sighed again, below Robb Stark his own wolf tilted his head almost as confused as himself.

She saw him scuff at her words, and bowing his head. “Then long may you reign over a Kingdom of ghosts and ash, because thats all you’ll have to sit on the Iron Throne.” She turned back to him wanting to hear her loud and clear when she spoke.

“When I do rule the Seven Kingdoms, what you've done, naming yourself King is treason. Why shouldn't you be held accountable for your crimes.” Daenerys almost wanted to mention like his father, but she held her tongue from the rest, she showed mercy sometimes when no one knew it.

They stared back at one another, neither saying a word. He had venom in his eyes from her words, to break the silence the doors were pushed open. A servant out of breath came running, “My lord-, I mean.. Your Grace....” He huffed and puffed trying to finish speaking.

“Someone... at the gates.”

Fresh snow had begun to fall, the little flakes melted onto the waxed seal. The later days she spent in Winterfell, the less she had of dealing with their people. Most were too busy with the broken boy and his companion return to Winterfell.

Tyrion had written to her of the plans that had been made. The Greyjoys have just sailed for Dorne with the Martells to gather their forces for what was to come.

He also wrote of Grey Worm leaving them at White Harbor to meet with the rest of the Unsullied. Tyrion had mentioned before that taking Casterly Rock than Kings Landing would have a better outcome than having foreign soldiers take the Capitol.

Dany twisted her seal that stamped the three headed dragon onto each of the letters. She could remember Viserys holding it close everywhere they went. Now she knew why he held it tightly, the only way that they would remember house Targaryen was in a crimson seal.

Daenerys felt her cheeks flush and brighten red from the wind hitting her, but she stood outside still. Watching them fascinated her, the people in the courtyard. She could see the older girl giving out orders to the Knights of the Vale.

None had noticed her watching above in the corners with all the noise and work going around the courtyard. She didn't need to expect any stares from the bannermen since another Stark arrived at the gates.

The maester, or maesters she thought to herself, of the two serving in Winterfell, had built a chair with large thick wheels to move through the snow for the quiet brother. Daenerys still didn’t understand how a boy with broken legs and a girl had made it back from North of the wall to Winterfell’s doors.

She didn't understand many things looking at all the Northmen. They all worked and served with pleasure to them. Not for oaths their houses had made, the Boltons had proven those oaths meant nothing as Tyrion reminded her before. They follow the Starks, because they wanted to, because of their blood to Ned Stark.

“My mother and father would stand here, watching.” She hearted footsteps walking towards her as he spoke. Daenerys raised her eyebrows to him, confused to his words. When Robb Stark realized what he had said his face reddened and mouth gaped.

“I didn’t mean we-“ He said quickly moving steps away to ease the awkwardness of his words. She stopped him from finishing.

“I know what you meant.” Dany assured him. She had never noticed a nervous speaker in him. She only saw a talker, who thought he had charm. It might’ve been the wine speaking for him in Meereen, but the North put a difference between what was, than now.

She looked back to the Northmen, ordering each other around. “You may not see their ways of thinking, but we're all the same with what we want.” He told her. She didn’t get who he spoke of first, but she felt his cloak brush against her when he pointed across to the people.

“GreatJon, he was locked away for years as a prisoner. When he was freed, he watched his son be killed in front of him. Your new friend Wyman Manderly, his son was killed at the Twins, we found his second son locked away weeping and afraid to leave his cell, thinking it was a trick.”

Dany looked back to the Lords, almost with pity. Then he had her turn to the side side towards soldiers in black fish scales. They wore grey, gaunt faces even in young men as they looked up to the Winter snows.

“Those are Tully men, they left their homes to fight for my family. My uncle led them. Their lands and homes were stripped away for the treasonous acts of fighting for what was right against the Lannisters.”

She pursed her lips tightening her hand against the railings, still listening to him. “And the rest of them, who we could bring back, were stuffed in cells with no light. When they ran out of room, the Freys had their own way to make room. Did you know that rivers have high and low tides? So when the men were chained to the sides of the Twins they would wait, dangling from their chained arms waiting for the water to wash them away-”

“Why are you telling me this?” Daenerys asked. She had no reason to know this, them, or what else had gone on.

“I’m giving you an answer to why I won't order them to fight for you. All those things I spoke of, were because of my plans to march south and they naming me King and going with me. Kings shouldn't let his people go through that, or Queens.”

She still twisted her seal in circles, thinking of what she would do. Dany felt the warm air lean closer near her face, when Robb Stark whispered the last words. “If you’re going to be their Queen, of all the seven, you should look back to what you all want.”

He had already started walking back quickly, and when he turned back towards her, he echoed across the balconies outside. “What would you do with all that anger, built up for years?” He asked.

Whatever he meant, if that was to help bring them to at least not despising her, Daenerys may have been grateful for the last question. All the years of anger filling up in her until it felt like a burning pain. With nothing to do but remember all who had wronged you, she thought of several things, but it all ended with one desire of vengeance.

The sky hadn't changed throughout the day, it still remained grey as ever. She could see the darker clouds start to grow and feed the night. She was lucky it was bright enough for Dany to write one last paper.

She twisted rolled parchment, tempted on whether to give it the right person. The grey gown had dragged across the snow, to darker into a deep black. Daenerys walked across the courtyards of Winterfell, pushing open the gates to the Godswood.

Dany felt the gush of steam blow her face when she walked farther into the untouched forest. She could see the same weirwood tree she saw before, the red sap dripping from his eyes. When the wind blew, the leaves brushed only like little whispers into ones ear.

Daenerys tried to find a reason people followed the Old Gods. All she saw were pieces of ivory wood with red paint. She wouldn't ask these trees for help or guidance, she couldn't even see the need for a Godswood.

While looking back at the odd plant, Dany saw a darkened shape worn hand grasp the weirwood tightly. She turned around to circle the tree and saw the body sprawled across the roots laying back.

She jumped and lost her breath for a moment when it moved, and the eyes rolled back to a boy. “Hello.” He said so meekly with no emotion in his voice. She bowed her head back to him in a hurry to leave.

“I shouldn't be here, you seemed busy with that. I’ll go so you can continue.” She said quickly, and lifting the heavy skirts. Dany didn't need an answer, she wanted to walk back to her chambers.

That was until she heard the boy reply. “Did I frighten you? I’m sorry, if it means anything to you.” She turned back to the boy, almost a man she thought looking back for a moment.

“It’s alright, just didn’t know anyone would come out here in the cold.” He looked up to the snow falling from the sky, just realizing as if he hadn’t noticed.

“You’re Daenerys Targaryen. Your brother was Rhaegar..” That was a first of hearing that. Usually Dany had been referred to as the “Mad King’s daughter.” The boy had already dazed off thinking just with her name and Rhaegar’s.

“I am.” She said standing across from him. Dany looked back next to him and saw the chair with wheels across the bottom. “You know my name, I believe I know yours. And you are Brandon Stark?” She asked watching his sullen face.

“Somewhat.” He answered. The Stark brother wasn't of man of many words, she thought. Until he looked up to her with a question on his mind.

“Have you met Jon yet?” He asked, with Daenerys assuming he meant his baseborn brother. They had changed interests from her brother to his own in a matter of minutes.

“I have, in your Great Hall. I saw your other siblings as well, but not you. Have you been out here long? It’s quite cold. ” She explained. He shrugged grasping the roots of the weirwood.

Their words were brief, with awkward stares and the young Stark staring off farther into the godswood. “It doesn’t bother me.. It’s colder north, but we’ll all see it soon.” She sighed realizing what his words led to.

“Yes, you and your brother Jon Snow are much alike with telling me of those ‘things.’ Did he tell you what to say to get me believe your story.” She asked him. He shook his head slowly with his hand stroking the freshly Snow on the ground.

“I haven’t seen him since I arrived. Too many people in every room to talk to about what I need to speak to him about, I have many things to say...” He looked back sullenly with curiosity peaking to what was so important.

“But he didn’t have to tell me, the white walkers are real. I have seen them, I can see them.” She raised her eyebrows to where he could see these things, for they were the only two in the Godswood. He saw her non believing looks and Dany heard him sigh.

Daenerys saw his blue eyes slowly daze off into his own thoughts, but he still had more he wanted to say. “Have you heard, about the riddle Bloodraven, your ancestor? Where it goes.. How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have, a thousand eyes and one. I feel like that, I can see it all at once and my head isn't fast enough so it hits me at all different times..”

She looked back with confusion, not knowing what to say back. Not even with what Brandon had spoken of seeing ‘things,’ but with that she hadn't heard of a Bloodraven from her house’s histories.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I don't understand.” She spoke truthfully. She heard the small sigh come from his voice, but she saw his hand grasp the roots of the weirwood. The snow began to fall faster and the ground had turned a frost white covering.

She waited for words, but none came. He looked through her as if she wasn't standing across from him. “I think I’ll go back in.” She muttered as some form of farewell to their greeting. He didn't answer and Dany turned back towards the entrance and she could hear more voice outside of the Godswood, but one had her turn back to hear a response.

“You believed yourself..” She heard Brandon Stark speak. “People thought you were mad walking into fire, and few had believed you would return here, to Westeros. When that man didn't believe you, he called you a little princess. Yet you, you said your dreams do come true, you had faith in Daenerys Targaryen.. I believe your dreams.”

She turned back to him, not knowing what to say, or how he could know what they had said so long ago. All she could do was look back to Qarth, the Spice king and the thirteen’s remarks of how she was nothing. But here she stood, and they were long for dead.

“But I believe Jon as well, and his dreams are true. Except they're more of nightmares.” He looked down to his arm, and pulled his sleeve to show a darkened and bruised arm that had left his wrist indented with ice blue burning away his cream colored skin.

“I need to go back now.” Dany told him. He gave no answer just laying back against the white bark once more.

“I think I’ll stay a bit longer.” He muttered staring off with his hands folded softly against the snow. As she left the Godswood, the wolves began to sing.

She paced back and forth, the candles had begun to drip onto the tables with wax as they waited. “You’re sure they’re coming?” She asked. He had been sitting back, calm as ever staring at her with his brows furrowed looking at her as if she was mad.

“They should be, they could've come sooner if I had given them a reason why they were wanted here.” Dany didn't answer him, instead just twisting the sealed letter in her fingers. She stopped her fast pace when the doors of the Great Hall were opened again.

They came in a pack, she noticed. All of them tightly together even though there were few Lords who had come. She didn't want all of them, not the sons or relatives of each of the houses. Just their leige lords.

Most of them were old men, except one girl. She had been no older than ten, and half the size of the rest of the men she stood next to. Dany saw no fear in her, only the grown men she stood beside seemed to keep quiet around her.

“Our King wanted us here, not you.” She stood silently, waiting for them to get their words at. Dany would give them that at least, let all their rage crack open and spill out. “Why is she here?” They asked him.

“We only follow our King, his orders, not yours.” They started again. She could see the annoyances that came to them when she did not answer. They crossed their arm, hands on swords as if Daenerys was the threat against them.

“I’m not here to give you orders, I only ask of you to listen as I will.” Robb Stark spoke from behind her.

“I was born on Dragonstone.” Dany informed them, most had not been listening. “I’ve been called much worse than foreigner, invader, or mad but I choose not to care for those titles.”

“But I remember them.” Few had looked at her when she spoke.

“Someone told me to think bad to all they had been thrown at me, what I would choose after it had all built up over time. I choose vengeance.” Eyes fell on her.

Daenerys had begun to pace, not focusing on the faces that watched her. Instead, she thought of Tyrion’s words on the northerners. “I've been told before, that the North remembers. That I do not recall what you would remember as I am nothing but a foreigner, and not your King.”

“It seems to me the true enemy of the North would be yourselves. It seems the North doesn't remember, even I who lived oh so far away from my home my whole life, had heard what the Northerners seemed to ignore.” She saw the fury in their eyes all surrounding her.

“I was remember hearing about a wedding, where you went as friends and ended as foes. Fathers, sons, and so many more never returned.” Daenerys would not hold back, no matter the cringe in their eyes as she spoke again.

“You wanted to turn back time, to change your mistakes.To pay attention to the words of the song, that you all saw as just a tune.” She could see the ship in his eyes sink into the deep blue ocean from the one behind her.

“But you can’t.”

“I ask again, not to bend your knees and make me a queen. For I know that will never happen. I'm giving you a chance, to have your vengeance on those who hurt you long ago, we share the same enemies, South or North.” Jon Snow raised his sullen eyes to her.

“I'm asking the North to remember..” When Daenerys turned back and stopped moving, she waited for their insults and arguments flow from their mouths. But they would not come.

No voices were heard, once they had nothing to say. She waited for any answer, but they wouldn't speak. Daenerys almost chuckled, for that was all she could say to convince the stubborn Lords.

Instead of waiting for them, Dany stretched her arm to Jon Snow. She handed him the small paper that she had held so title she thought the seal would break. “This will give you passage to Dragonstone, when your ship arrives, give it to Lord Varys.”

“I will allow you to mine the dragonglass, resources or men that you'll need will be provided for you.” She told the brother with a look of surprise to him that had seemed rare.

“Thank you.” He said briefly. She believed that was the first time, anyone had said that since arriving in Winterfell.

Looking back to the others, Daenerys had saw her faith begin to simmer. They had nothing else to say, nothing more to persuade them on where to go. She could only hear the stomping of the big one’s feet.

The GreatJon, she remembered his name. He marched face to face, or chest as Daenerys had not been tall enough to reach his head. He stared back at her, his face reddened thinking before he spoke.

“I haven’t, I will not- I never forget!” He yelled to her. The louder he got, she could see he almost cared what she thought of him. When he pulled out his sword, men stepped in to pull him back as he pushed each the others off of him.

Still, his eyes softened. “I remember..” He said, throwing his sword down to her feet. The Lord Umber bowed his head, looking unkempt and sweat on his brow as he bowed and walked away.

Lord Glover had stepped forward with a stern look on his face, “Who we lost, we never forget them, their faces will haunt us for the rest of our days..” She saw his head lower as he spoke.

“But the North has forgotten its vengeance.. The Lannister woman will see our wrath, no matter who’s side we fight for.” He tossed his sword that raised a shutter against the floorboards.

The young girl stepped forward. “I will never name you my Queen, for house Mormont sees only one King. But we remember..” The brave girl with bears on her sigil bowed her head to Robb Stark as her men threw their own swords down.

Another, who’s face she had not expected to come near her again. Instead he bowed, lightly placing his sword in his hands and laying it down to her feet gently. Lord Manderly’s face had been as If he was waiting for Daenerys to say it.

“I remember..” He hold her with a hushed, fatherly tone in his voice. More men stood to follow, and the blades were pulled from their sheaths and had all fallen to her.
Perhaps the saying had been true, she thought. Maybe the North did remember whatever else they had ripped away from them. Soon their voices turned into echoes bouncing across the timber of the Starks great hall, until there were only two left once again.

She turned back to him, he had no grin or charm. Daenerys only saw a stern look staring back at her. “You shouldn't have said that, tricking them into joining you, telling them they had forgotten all of.. those things.” He stuttered when he spoke. She could tell Robb Stark was not talking about his bannermen.

When Daenerys had faded under the maester’s care, she remembered a husband and wife. How he stared so lovingly at the girl with the olive skin his heart could burst at that moment. “I didn't trick anyone. You said before that they had wanted revenge, they wouldn't have gotten that if they had stayed so stubborn to not go against Cersei because they could not stand my presence, let alone share enemies.”

“And you had to hurt them by speaking of that? You don't know them, or how they.. feel.” She saw no hurt in the Lords voices. She could tell that the Stark she saw before had died with the young wife at the Twins.

Dany pursed her lips, and sighed as she waited for him say more. But he did not. She could tell he had been the broken one in all of this. “What was she? Braavosi, Myrish, she was olive skinned.”

She crossed her arms waiting for him to speak as he lifted his head up to her craving to know how. “Volantis.. She was from Volantis.” His hoarse voice had cracked as the King in the North spoke. Daenerys had finally found the missing piece that had floated around her head from time to time.

He changed their conversation quickly. “You spoke for them, not for any games to you? Even though you still believe your own claims to each of the kingdoms?” She nodded her head briefly. Until he had begun to smile.

His laughter was almost mad, Daenerys’ brow furrowed looking at him. He answered for her without asking. “You gave into your own wants and needs for others, for vassal Lords beneath you?”

His smile was almost brightening as he nodded his head staring back at her as Robb Stark walked away. “Well, what is it?” She asked rolling her eyes with annoyance at him once again.

He turned back with the same bright blue eyes that had been there once before, so long ago. “That's what Queens do.” He muttered trying to catch his breath from laughing.

He bowed his arms to her as the doors opened, he had one more to say. “Well then. Long may you reign.”

Chapter Text

Hi chickadees, I AM BACK. Very excited for you to read this lil guy, because it’s a change from the usual way I write these chapters. This one will have different POVs from the past, that reveals a certain twist that book readers may know of.. This is PART 1 of different POVs, since it’s taken me so long to write this, I broke it up to give you guys something to read while I finish the others. Again, sorry for the wait, lost my inspiration after watching the Patriots lose the Super Bowl :(… ENOUGH SAID, ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. X

The Old Lion of Lannister:  

He hated the city, truly. The smell of sewers and drains of the Red Keep boiled in the heat, the smell of the Blackwater tide, this was what people called a capitol.

Time went by too fast for him, he had no time for any of this. Screams echoed through the city, and smoke filled Kings Landing, and the sun sat on bodies that had begun to rot. That was what they called a city being sacked.

They had no time for this, for any of it, Tywin thought to himself. Half of his men had run out to Fleabottom finding whatever women were left, now it was left for him to do the real work. Instead, someone kept stopping him, calling out the name ‘father’ to him.

He heard the armor clash and clang together as his son ran to catch up at Tywin’s pace. “Father please.” Jaime pulled at his arm to stop. Tywin sighed as he waited for what his son had to say.

“The deed is done Jaime, you did it for the family.” He assured Jaime. He paced back and forth in his white armor and cloak, Tywin hated it when he wore the Kingsguard uniform instead of the Lannister colors.

“I killed him... I killed a King.” He could see the sweat above his son’s brow with a nervous look. Jaime was a boy of seventeen, one mad man dead would be nothing to him. Tywin didn't understand his son’s mind.

“Yes, you have. Why are we still mentioning this?” Aerys dead was nothing compared to what was to come, and he needed to continue his plans without being interrupted. House Lannister needed to show its loyalty to the crown, no matter who sat on the chair.

He would start with ordering the blood washed off the walls, his men had taken the castle quick enough with half the court put to the sword. They would need to hide that side of their stories until Robert Baratheon would come to the city.

Still, his foolish son kept stopping him. “They look at me, their stares at what I did.. They call me.. Kingslayer, when I did it for all of them..” Tywin could hear the stutter in Jaime’s voice, he had forgotten there was still a boy in him.

He stopped and turned back to Jaime, sighed as he turned back to the scared look of a boy. “Why is it you care what any of them think? When does the lion care for the opinion of the sheep? I was proud when I heard how you spoke to Ned Stark, showing that you’re a Lannister.”

Tywin could hardly believe it was Jaime, who sat before Aerys’ corpse from the Iron Throne greeting the wolf whelp who had helped start the whole rebellion in the first place. When they told him of what his son had done, he could see the boy in him die and the man born.

“That’s because Ned Stark… He looked at me like I was nothing, as if he was above me.” He heard the venom in Jaime’s voice and Tywin thrived from it. He would have been overcome with joy if the young Stark lord had still been in the Red Keep, to see Jaime’s wrath upon him now. But the northern boy had ran south to Dorne to find his whore sister.

“You’re a Lannister, none of them matter. You know why you did it, I know it. You did it for the Lannister name. How Aerys called for my head, and you knew you would be loyal to the family.” Tywin patted his shoulders as he began to walk away, to finish his own plans. And then Jaime stopped him again..

“I, I didn't do it for the family name! I don't care for any of it, no one understands.” He turned back and could see the boy in him slither back. Perhaps Tywin had spoiled his children in acting as if he cared for their feelings and time of need, but he still stopped to hear his son.

“Aerys, he had jars of it.. The wildfire, he was going to kill all of them, burn them in their houses he said. Burn them all, he kept saying it until I put the blade through him.” He could hear the mumbled mess of words in Jaime’s voice as he grasped for breaths of air.

Tywin didn't know what he wanted him to say, no soothing words would heal these wounds, he thought. It would be useless, and he would be stuck with a soft weakling for a son.

“But you stopped him, and now he’s dead.” Tywin said simply. For that was all that it was, the thrust of a sword and their problems would be gone. All of them, he thought calmly.

“You killed him, you ended the war. When Robert Baratheon comes imagine his gratitude, the rewards for your deed. No matter your intentions of saving useless peasants in this city, you’re a Lannister. Once you’re released from the Kingsguard, you'll be heir once more.”

Jaime backed away from him as if he was mad. “I took a vow, I'm to serve till death. What would the rest of them think? Ser Barristan, Arthur, Lewyn, all of them; they could never bare to look at me after hearing that I killed the one they were supposed to protect.”

Tywin rolled his eyes, not caring to listen anymore. “You won't need to think about your brethren in the rest of the Kingsguard, for you’re the only one left. All of them were fools, with their honor, half of them died at the Trident, while the others including your mentor the “Sword of the Morning” Arthur Dayne was slain by the Stark boy in Dorne, I’m told.”

He might have been telling the whole truth, with all of the Kingsguard dead. For Varys’ little birds had not given him a head count of the dead men cladded in white cloaks, but it was better for Jaime to hear that than giving him hope, for that was nothing they needed.

His son had grief in his eyes as Tywin spoke, but he didn't see reason for any of it. All they had ever done was stand beside a mad man as he burned people alive, blood mattered more than a brotherhood of white cloaks.

“You will look back at their mistakes, choosing honor and duty over legacy. You will be better than them, once you take your place as Lord of Casterly Rock.” Tywin laid his hand on Jaime’s armed shoulder as he quickly began to sweep through the halls.

“Kingsguard does not flee. Casterly Rock will be Tyrion’s after you. He’s your heir.” His sons sharp tongue stopped him in his feet. He turned back to Jaime with disgust, bringing up the spiteful creature that he called a son.

“Fine. Remember when you look back on this. When you’re old and riddled, while they still whisper names about you. Remember that your reputation could have been wiped clean if not for that bloody white cloak of yours.”

They both stood there, neither of them planning to back down. Tywin felt the rage that this imbecile was his blood. Somehow still, Tywin had a sense of pride for the fire that they both share in that moment. Not fire, he thought; a lion’s roar.

The tension split when his men walked through the corridor joining them. “It’s done, my Lord.” Tywin sighed as he noticed Jaime had already started to walk away from him.

“Not you. You’ll come with me, let it be a lesson for you.” For what he would show him, May the hope, duty, honor that fueled his son’s heart burn away.

The blood had stained his boots. He rather enjoyed them for the few times Tywin had worn them. It had laid everywhere, he thought. Too big a mess with too little time for it to be taken care of.

He would be merciful, only a swift, open handed blow would he hit Lorch with. Tywin felt the ache of his knuckles after. “You fools.” He told them. They were his men, Lannister men, they were not supposed to be simpletons.

“M’lord It was your order. The girl was Rhaegar’s blood, she couldn’t be left behind.” The younger ones explained. Still, he hadn’t heard from the one who used the sword. Perhaps Armory Lorch’s jaw had broken from the struck of Tywin’s palm.

“You wanted her dead, and so I followed your commands m’lord. How am I to blame when the whelp screamed and kicked and wouldn’t stay still.” Lorch must have been practicing his lines when he spoke for quite some time, Tywin thought.

“Now how old does she look? Two, three at the most. A few soothing words and a pillow over her face would have been much easier..” Tywin said sighing and looked at the body, and see where the “battle” they had described was. He looked down and saw a girl.

He looked at where she laid, next to get father’s bed with claw marks on the ground from when they had dragged her out from under it. He expected her to have at least some Targaryen looks to her, but he saw none of Rhaegar. Only at least half a hundred thrusts through her nightgown stained in red.

He almost forgot Jaime had been standing in the doorway with his eyes shut. Tywin walked towards him, making him open his eyes to stare at the girl. “Well is it her, or has Lorch killed a different girl?”

Jaime nodded. “Yes, it’s her.. That’s Rhaenys.” His son’s green eyes flickered as he pulled forward one of his men, ripping off their red cloak and laid it down lightly over the girl’s body. He was going soft, Tywin thought.

“Better to cover the blood, just thinking of the Lannister name like you wanted me to.” Jaime’s excuse was weak, but could be useful. It did cover the gore of her death. The blood matched quite well with Lannister red.

He could see his son try to leave but when his men shut the door of Rhaegar’s chambers, he had him turn back to look at Tywin. “Remember this, remember this girl if you try to hate me. Rhaegar did this to his daughter, he chose a northern whore over the family name and it all ended in this room.”

“You blame Rhaegar, when you’re the one who gave the order? He told me to stay here, protect them and when he returned, changes would be made.” Jaime said in a naive voice to irritate him.

“Words are nothing, his promise to you had broken when Robert’s Warhammer crushed Rhaegar’s chest on the Trident.” The girl meant nothing to Tywin, he never held her, nor met her, she was not of his blood. Rhaegar lost the war and his line needed to be wiped clean for Robert to sit the chair.

He gave the order, Tywin admitted to himself. Yet he was not to blame, as none of it would have happened if not for the mad man himself.

Aerys’ reign could have peaceful and fertile, if he had agreed to the betrothal. Rhaegar with Cersei as his wife, he would have never ran off with the Stark girl. Heirs would be made and the Targaryen line would have succeeded.

Instead, Aerys rejected the idea by calling Tywin a servant. He could still remember his former friend’s words; “No servant’s daughter was fit to marry a prince of royal blood.” And so Rhaegar married the Martell girl, and now they’re gone.

“The matter is settled. No fighting over the succession, for there’s no one left. Now Robert will sit the throne with comfort.” Tywin said simply as they wrapped the girl in red cloaks and carried her off.

When Tywin had already began to walk up the stairs he heard Jaime call out after him, still trying to antagonize him. “The younger one got away. The Queen and the boy Viserys.. Rhaegar has another child, a boy Aegon.. Same blood as Aerys, maybe one of them will rise up in the succession.”

He turned back to his son, green eyes flashing like a cat as if he won this round of wits. “You needn’t worry.” Tywin told him. A lion still has claws, he thought. Where were the singers when he needed them?

The sun laid hot and heavy in the chambers, lying on the body. It seemed almost fitting, a Martell dead with the sun blazing right on her. The Dornish claimed to be tough meat, but the girl seemed to die just as easy as the rest.

“Which one did it?” Tywin asked. He told them to be quick about it, but he had not expected this much. He never gave the orders for Rhaegar’s widow to be removed, but Tywin never told them not to.

“Clegane.” One of them said quietly. It was gruesome even for Tywin’s taste. What was left of Elia Martell was her almost split in two from the blade. He could see the rips and tears of her dress pulled up, her bruised and bloody thighs when Gregor was done with her.

He thoughts went back to Jaime, perhaps his son wasn’t just a simple fool with a sword. Tywin turned one of his men and pulled the red cloak off and toss it aside onto the body. He thought of the Martell’s wrath when they hear of the the girl’s death, best to cover her.

When his men carried her off, to lay her in the throne room with her child. Tywin had begun to walk off when he felt the pull of his foot, a cloth embroidered with silver dragons sewn on the corners. He looked back to the cradle beside it, they were in the nursery.

“Stop.” He commanded. When they placed her back on the floor he felt the flush of heat that boiled with anger. “She had another child, a son. Where is he?” Tywin roared kicking the rag away.

“We found no boy, m’Lord. Servants were put to the sword.” He sighed imaging this Targaryen babe sitting the throne one day. Then Tywin looked out towards the balcony, the open gates. 

They had been shut for quite some time before Tywin had arrived in the city. Aerys’ paranoia locked the peasants from leaving or entering. So he looked out to the Blackwater. “Get me Clegane.” He commanded.

Soon enough, the great beast came. He had blood on his sword. Tywin looked around to his men, young and stupid with big mouths to whisper his secrets. He gave a quick nod to Ser Gregor and his long sword was pulled from it’s sheath.

Their screams hadn’t left their throat fast enough and the Clegane’s blade struck them down one by one. When he was done, he had no emotion, only waiting for his next order. “You forgot one.” Tywin said tossing him the blanket.

“Did the babe crawl away, when he heard you coming? Or were you too stupid to even see?” He asked. Clegane gave a look of anger, the one face he could ever make. Tywin didn’t care for an answer, he forgot one and they still had much to do.

The weak Velaryon Lord who Aerys used as master of ships was a quick one. He had been hiding in his chambers when Ser Gregor broke down the doors. He made a good council member Tywin thought. For he always kept good records of the ports.

He pushed towards the end of the pages in the inventory and imports of the trade and royal fleet. Tywin could smell the fresh ink, at the bottom. One ship had left the Blackwater, a trade deal had been made with the crown and the Pentoshi for spices and Myrish silk. It had left a night before they had arrived.

He heard the screams from outside, Tywin pulled a pouch of gold from his side tossing it the great beast of his bannerman. “Find a boy, make sure they can’t see the face.” He looked down to the large fists Clegane wore, one crunch of the skull would be easy enough.

Tywin ripped the paper off with the coordinates and handed it to Clegane. “After, get a ship, find them. Don’t come back until it’s finished.” He needed to be sure no word would get out to whoever would use this.

“Before you go, find the pyromancers. Kill them if you must, keep one or so breathing so they’ll supply you with your goods.” Jaime may not have been with them at the moment, but his knowing of Aerys plans were quite helpful.

“This is Aerys’ grandson you’ll be looking for. Keep it in the family, and follow his orders; burn them all.”

The Lost Lord:

The wine tasted sweet on his tongue, he never liked Arbor gold. But that was all they had, so he drank some more. To dull the senses of his mistakes, his dead, and the shrill screams of the child.

Probably not used to the wet nurse, he thought. Jon always remembered the Dornish woman feeding them herself. She claimed to be a septa, but she had a child somewhere from what he could tell if she was still feeding.

Footsteps slithered above them, he heard them come closer with each step. He could smell the Lyseni perfumes and silks as his robes brushed the floor. It didn’t matter, he still sat there and sipped more.

The spider looked down on him with disappointment. “You’re drunk.” He said. He answered with a raise of his cup and continued on.

“Guilty.” Jon told him. He was guilty of only that, but not to Aerys he thought. For Aerys had named him a traitor, the disgraced Lord Jon Connington. All for losing Robert Baratheon at the Stoney Sept. Or the Battle of the Bells as they started to call it.

“You were chosen for a reason and a task, not to sit around drinking.” The Master of Whispers told him. Jon rolled his eyes, he was supposed to serve Aerys’ small council but yet he stood here. Perhaps if he was truly loyal to the dragon, his silver prince would still be alive.

“What reason would that be? To sit around sober, watching a child. His child, their.. child. You want me to look at that boy as he grows, knowing that I did nothing.. I wasn’t there for him.. I..” He muttered grasping the Lyseni’s arm as he fell.

“RHAEGAR IS DEAD!” Jon screamed so loud, his voice cracked in pain. He sunk to the ground, his chest felt as if his heart had been ripped out. He should have been there for him, he should have died for Rhaegar.

He wished to be left alone, may whichever Gods were real carry him from this world. To be with his prince, he thought to himself. He could hear the soft silks lie on the floor as the Spider crouched beside him, gripping his arm.

“Prince Rhaegar is gone, yes. His wife is gone, his daughter is gone, but one boy lives.” Jon could hear the children gurgling in the back with the soiled septa praying over him.

“You could not save Rhaegar, but we’re going to change that. You may have failed the father, but you will not fail the son.” Varys’ words were a bittersweet taste to him. He cringed his eyes, wanting to feel the pain once more.

Jon would rather wither away and rot. Perhaps he would stay on the floor of the ship, waiting for his indigo eyes to look back at him. To hear his harp play one last song, for his Prince to walk back through the doors once more.

But instead, he didn’t. Jon turned his head back to the child, silver hair atop his head. Jon could hear the bells ring throughout the city, change was coming for all of them.

“What do you want me to do?” He sighed pressing his fingers to his temples. Varys stood up sliding his hands back into his sleeves with a pleased look at the child.

“The boy has no one now, he’s alone and he will have the weight of the Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders.” The boy looked frail to Jon, too small to carry such a burden.

“Why send for me?” He asked. “Aerys has a wife, their second son as well. Let them raise the boy.” Jon answered to Varys’ sigh.

“The Queen and Prince Viserys have fled to Dragonstone, Princess Elia and her children were supposed to join them, but.. plans change and this child is alone now.”

The spy master had a sullen tune in his voice as he continued. “It would not be smart keeping two heirs together, one simple assassin could wipe out an entire dynasty if Prince Aegon would be sent to Dragonstone.”

“And you think I’m supposed to raise this child now?” Jon asked. He wasn’t a fan of children, they cried too much and were helpless. He didn’t need family, not a dutiful wife or heirs to take his place when he would be dead and buried. 

Jon only needed one person, but he was gone now.

“He needs someone to remind him of where he came from. All past Kings have been taught that kingship is their right. Aegon should know kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them. You will show him.”

Jon was no King, he was just a squire from the Stormlands who was lucky enough to serve beside the one true Prince; his prince.

He could still hear the little one behind them cooing noises as staring off around the room. He had Rhaegar’s eyes, Jon thought. He hadn’t even thought before he had said the words. “I’ll do it. This child should be raised to remember his father.”

He did fail the father. But he would not fail the son, Jon promised himself. “Whatever helps you sleep..” The spider whispered. “I shall sail for Westeros when we reach the next port. After you dock you will be sent to Pentos, an old friend will give you room and board. It’s best I return to settle the rumors that Tywin Lannister is brewing on what has happened to the royal family.”

Jon bit his lip pushing back his auburn hair with his fingers. He had almost, just almost forgotten about the Dornish woman. “How you do this? Did you switch the child with a commoner and the mother didn’t even notice?” Jon waved his hands to the room on the ship with a septa, a eunuch and himself, a coward.

Lord Varys nodded. “Princess Elia was quite aware of these plans, she never stopped protecting her children so she agreed to this before knowing the terms of only one child will be sent off.” Jon noticed the silence of the Master of Whispers who had a saddened look.

“I’m told people can still see the smoke rising from King’s Landing. The Lannister army still taking what’s left before Robert arrives.” Varys clasped his hands together as he stared off to the water.

“So you ran, you left them all while the lions fed?” Jon mumbled. The wine had gotten to his tongue and he stuttered as he spoke.

“There was nothing I could do. I advised Aerys to not open the gates, and yet he did. I am not a brave man to save the people. I’m doing this for the realm.” He probably said that to help him sleep at night, Jon thought.

“Go on and make your mind up of what you think of me.” He told him. “But that boy is the future for the Seven Kingdoms, he would be dead like his family if I hadn’t arranged for you two to be swept away on a trade ship of silk and spices.” The spymaster pointed out to the trade goods that they hid under.

He felt the ship stop with a thud, and the pushing of up and down began again as they docked. Lord Varys gathered his fancy robes and carried them off as he left. His cup was empty, the jug of wine beside him had run dry. He would need to find his way to some Arbor Gold.

When he gathered himself for the ships’s cook, the boy fussed and cried. Jon could hear the septa shush and try to rock him to sleep. Before walking up the stairs, he stopped. He sighed and sat back in his seat, gripping the sword on his hip daring for someone to try and harm the boy; Rhaegar’s boy.

His silver prince could not come back to him. Jon would never have the chance to ever tell him how he truly felt. The cause was lost, with Rhaegar’s body lying in the Trident. But he would not grieve any longer, he swore himself that. He would show the child his birthright, raise him up.

Rhaegar would never be forgotten, he promised himself. He would live on in his boy, Jon would die to keep the oath.

The boat rocked back and forth, up and down all night throughout the wretched pieces of wood nailed together. The scent of putrid spices had seeped into the walls of the cabin that disgusted him.

He heard the rest of the crew laughing and cheering, probably drinking as well. His mouth had run dry, perhaps Jon could join them upstairs for one cup. But he could hear the boy sniffle as he slept across from him.

So he stayed, gripping his sword, watching the door. Daring anyone to enter the room who would ever wish harm on the boy.

But the laughter stopped, cursing began, feet running back and forth on the main deck. Jon could hear the ship stop moving, and the waves swish higher when another grew closer.

When he gathered himself to walk upstairs, the sky was black, no light except for the dim lanterns around the ship. Only the torches those across from them could they see the war ships staring back at the trade ship.

“Oi, stop starin’ and we’ll be on our way. Got some silk set for some Pentoshi Prince due on the ‘morrow.” Lord Varys had picked quite the storytellers to hide the boy and them, Jon thought. But they got no answer, only silence watching their every move.

The group of the bunch across from them, was three times the size of any of the men. Jon could see his armor glimmer against the water, that had looked brighter; green almost. “Tell your men to move your galley aside, we have no quarrels with Westerosi.”

Another tugged at Jon’s arm during the one sided conversation. “Go, now.” They told him pointing behind to the oarsmen lowering the small rowboat. Before he knew it, he had been rushing down the stairs practically carrying the septa and the boy upstairs.

By the time they had unhooked the ropes and Jon, the septa with the sleeping babe stretched out in her arms, and the oarsmen, he could already see the sails of the galley move farther from them.

The water surrounding them had a thick, murky look to it, with a rancid scent. When Jon looked up to the night sky, he saw a small wing of fiery light shoot over the ship. Perhaps it had been a falling star, Rhaegar sending protection over the crew and his son.

But when it fell towards the ship, the star was gone. As if it had sunk down into the water, only for it to come back above the water, in the flush of bright green. “DOWN!” Jon heard them scream, they had rowed farther away where he could barely hear them yell.

Soon enough, they men had been leaping over the ship, as the blazing strike of boiling heat that hit them like a stone wall, swirling green flame had stretched all across them until he felt nothing but the warm bite of fire;

So much fire.

His eyes opened to the blazing sun, sand in his mouth, the waves crashing on him, and the smell of ash tingling all over his body. Jon gasped for the open air as he laid on the beach burning away whatever was left of him.

Jon screamed when he lifted his head, his skin felt as if it was shredded through a thousand blades all at once. He caught a quick glimpse of his torn clothes caught on the burnt wood of what was left of the ship; that’s when he remembered.

He couldn’t care for the pain any longer, he crawled on the sand, his body was peeled and red with boils of flame about to pop and crackle as he moved further.

Jon sifted through he bodies that smelled of smoke and seawater. He would not say it, he would not believe it until he could know for sure. He failed the father, he could not fail the son.

He fell to his knees, wanting to die. He no longer cared about the pain or burning, he should not live for his mistakes. Let the waves wash over him and carry him down, down, down where no man would go.

Until he heard the cries.

The shrills, blazing screams of the son once again. He ran, and ran, pulling through the debris of the ashes and burnt silk from the ship. Until he felt the soiled Septa’s hand claw at his wrist below the bodies.

Jon pulled her like a doll through the carnage with the boy in tow. He shook and screamed as Jon laid him on the sand. The babe gasped for breath turning red as his tears fell onto Jon’s palms.

He tried to pour the water onto the burns across the boy. His neck had turned a burnt red oozing from the heat. When the water touched his skin, it only worsened his pain. Jon could do nothing, he thought.

All he could do was rock the boy until he had calmed, the flames still burning away inside of him as he cried for something that he could call family. “I’m sorry..” He kept saying. “I’m sorry.” For there was nothing to say or do, but wait along the water.

“I’m sorry..” He told Rhaegar, Elia, his lost cause from the War of the Usurper, to his family for the shame Jon brought to them, and to the weeping child, who would be the last Targaryen; the true heir to the Iron Throne.

Chapter Text

And the award for slowest fanfic writer goes to… MEEEE!! Sorry I’m late, I’ve been lost with a lack of inspiration to go on, but I’ve returned… FLASHBACK to a certain character in a dark, dark time. I will update faster than before, with a part 2 to this chapter later. Again, forgive me for running away from this, I’m back and ready to get this show on the road! Enjoy and tell me what you think.

The King Who Lost the North:

He was free, from all of it. There was no pain, no worries, fear, nothing left, there was no sight nor sound, only warmth. The small tingly feeling left inside, like the embers of a flame licking one’s skin.

He was gone.

Until it all came crashing back down.

Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls, and not a soul to hear. The air came gushing threw his lungs, crushing every bone in his body in an instant. His eyes burning, tears boiling down his cheeks. They opened to the sky, pitch black, with the stars watching him.

Such pretty stars.

The water spewed from his throat, but he could taste the blood mixed in his mouth, blistering and ash foaming in his throat. His legs were numb as he crawled across the dirt, reeked with mossy river water.

Smoke was in the air, he could smell the soot and burnt wood. Everything was so foggy, his ears were blocked and muffled. Everything was dead inside, nothing to feel. He laid back, the mud seeping into his skin, looking up to the sky. Oh the wondrous stars.

“Robb..” He heard the muffled voice call out to him.

But then all the ghosts came streaming up from his own crypts and came back to him in an instant. A coat of red, a coat of gold. His spine felt as if his bones would snap when he rose up to all the eyes on him.

Blurred statues stood in front of him, fire waving from their hands. They were here for him, to get him. Gods, seven Gods; Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. They’ve all come for him now.

But they would not get him.

His voice was raw and cracked as he swung at them. His hands burned at every throw of his fists, yet they would not go away. He could feel the evil latch onto him like a disease. Pulling on him, holding him back. “Robb-“ Calling for him, why did he know his name?

He shook and pulled away from them, they would not get him. Evil, evil creatures. A lion still has claws. Finally breaking away he dove back to feel the wet backlash scourge him. The water silenced the voices, but the song still played.

He felt the tug and pull as they dragged him out from under. Fighting and screaming, the tug and drag out from the rotting river. “Robb!” The Stranger roared with a booming voice, only that was no God. No stranger, only a strange sight.

The smoke circling his eyes had cleared. No Gods coming to get him, no flaming hands. Just torches and eyes. Too many eyes, blue, green, brown, all too much. He clawed down his face, like piercing blades stripping him of his flesh. No more eyes, no more pain.

“Stop this!” He felt his arms being held back, tightening their grip on him. He fought, he shook, but they wouldn’t let go. The man clutched his neck, tilting him to look up at the face.

“Look at me!” He yelled. One eye open, just one. If he just looked, perhaps they would all leave him be. So he turned to face this group of demons, but he remembered one face. In an instant, he thought of grey walls, summer snows, home.

“Aye… You remember me now, don’t you? Harwin.” Harwin, he recalled. But he was not home, there were no Gods down here, down South.

He crawled back, Harwin’s eyes on him, judging him. His pack of wolves, his group, his people. All eyes on him now. Two more stepped forward out of the shadows.

“Do you remember now, boy?” The broken one with sullen eyes, eye he meant. The other, a ginger with a fat belly wrapped in a red cowl. Strangers, they were after him. The torches were burning him from so far. His mouth tastes of ash, burning, fire burning his tongue.

His throat singed with embers, voice raspy and dry as he spoke. “You.. Why did you..” Stones felt heavy over his chest, his heart could burst at any moment. They were all looking at him, eyes of disgust, hate, it’s all too much.

“I told you this was a mistake, this was not his plan.” The red beard muttered, looking at him with pity. He was nothing, he didn’t matter to them, to anyone.

“It doesn’t matter what your Lord thinks, he’s awake.” Harwin snapped back, he kept cornering him whenever he backed away. He needed space, he wanted to scream and push them all away.

They bickered over him like he was for sale, they didn’t care for him. Why should they, he thought, he didn’t matter. Harwin pointed fingers back at the pair yelling. “Seven times he’s rose, it was not your Lord’s plan it was yours. He’s your friend and you wanted him to live!” The ruined one with the patch over his eye looked back at him solemnly, perhaps sadness as well.

“Harwin..” He called out in a faint whisper. He just wanted to know why this was it. None listened.

“I asked and will never ask again, because I know him.” They all turned back to him, too many eyes. He stepped farther into the riverbank. “I trust him, I believe in him, we all should.”

“Why am I here..” He muttered. They couldn’t hear him over their blistering voices on top of each other.

The ginger stepped ahead, “We do this because we choose no sides, we wear no banners. The Lord of Light sent us here for more than just to play at war with your little playmates from the North—“ Their voices were too loud, he huffed and wretched himself off the ground grasping onto them, growling like a feral beast.

“WHY AM I HERE?!” He hissed with the venom of a viper across to them. All the bloody eyes he thought to himself, yet nobody could see him.

The scarred man stood in front of him, he tried to put his hand on his shoulder but he pushed him away. He made no more attempts as he nodded his head gently to him. The wiry beard was covering the deep gash of rotting skin on his neck.

“We found you here, just along the Green Fork.. You remember this..” He clawed at his soaking clothes looking around. Smoke was in the air.

“Robb..” His ears rung with a sharp piercing shriek as Harwin looked at him sullenly. “You were at the Twins.” It was in that moment he turned to look up into his face.

He shook his head pacing, the heat flushed his skin, burning almost as he remembered. He clutched his fists tightly, staggering about with his limps feeling as if they could collapse.

“They say it was supposed to be a wedding-“ Harwin cut himself off as Robb gripped at his scalp. It was all there, hiding in his head, waiting for the moment to come and open likes the gates of hell.

And so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere… “Stop it.” He whispered under his breath. Too much noise, too much. The drums pounding along, horns deafening blows, the pipes shrill screams, and the song. Please stop the song.

Yes now the rains, weep o’er their halls, and not a soul to hear.. “No, no, no, no, no…” He called out. “Make it stop!” He cried out, as he fell down to his knees. The moon shining down as he faced the water, the river where two towers stood as one. And there he faced it.

The smoke rising over the bank, screams echoing across the Trident came seeping over the land. The bodies flooded the water swishing past him, the water reeked of death. One by one he could see their sigil; Flint, Cerwyn, Manderly, Mallister, Blackwood.. Stark.

He fell back landing on his head with the hardening blow to the back of his head. Spilled wine over the dinner table, arrows piercing his skin. And not a soul to hear.

It all came back to him, the gasping shriek his mother sent out to him before he even knew what was happening. Hearing the cries of the one woman, the one person he smiled at the sight of her would all be ripped away. The blows that were shot down at him as he fell, all was drowned out by the sound of men dying.

The King in the North arises, Walder Frey said to him. His men that once stood for him were a pile of corpses in the dining hall. He could feel it all, every crossbow stabbing him as he crawled back to her. How the light that had once shined so bright from goodness inside of her had burned away. She had lost all her warmth as he held her, his hand on her stomach where the beginning of their lives together as one had all slipped away in an instant.

He could hear nothing, while his mother screamed out for him, begging him to take back what was left of his life. There was nothing left inside of him, nothing to hope, feel, love any longer. There was only hate, for himself and all that he had done to bring forth this doom. When he finally rose to stop her, there was no use to fight any longer. He only had the strength to mutter. “Mother..” His bannerman who he trusted arising from the shadows to pull him into a whisper, The Lannisters send their regards.

When he closed his eyes he still could feel the cold blade drive through his chest, feeling nothing. No hope, sadness, just waiting for the moment it would all end.

Until they woke him from the river.

“Robb.” He heard them call again. That was his name, he was born Robb Stark of Winterfell, eldest son of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. King of the North and the Trident. He was King, that’s what they told him, the King Who Lost the North, and all those who followed him were slaughtered because of it.

“What is this..” He demanded. “What, what did you do to me..” Robb clutched at his chest as he cried out. When he looked down, his hands were wet with blood. The dagger’s red bite of Roose Bolton’s blade left the oozing gash inside of him.

“We saw what happened, all of this.” Harwin pointed out. “Then we found you, and I wouldn’t leave you like this. So we..” So they dragged him back to the hell they all live in, he thought to himself.

“Your flame went out, and the Lord of Light brought you back for a reason.” Too many riddles, they spoke. There was no flame, no God’s light cast down on him. This was no gift to him, they put the flame back inside of him, and now all it does is burn.

“Why.. No.. No.” He told himself. “This, this is not God’s work.. You’re just tricking me, stop lying!”

He had heard enough of all of them, yet they still spoke. “Our Lord is the one true Lord, you know it. We all know it.” The scarred man who smelled of death stepped forward looking him in the eyes. “I see the look in your eyes boy, you remember it, all of it. Whatever happened in that castle, you remember it all. I’ve felt it all, more times than you could ever know.”

He ripped the patch off his face to reveal the mangled bundle of dead skin in what was left of his eye socket. Then he gripped at his neck, almost choking himself to show the marks. “We are all here for one purpose in our lives, and you’re here for a reason-“ Robb cut him off, he wanted an end to his blubbering nonsense.

“No.. No, you don’t get to do this. I was gone, gone and free. And you just drag me back down here in this hell. I don’t want to be you, I don’t want to be this thing.” He turned back to Harwin. “I didn’t ask for this.. You don’t get to make that choice of, of my life.”

“Why?” He asked them. “Why would you do this?” He begged, falling to his knees in defeat, clutching onto Harwin’s boots.

“I, I wanted to save you..” He whispered sullenly. Robb lifted his head gently looking up at the man who he had known from all his life in his days at Winterfell. He grabbed onto the chainmail across his shoulder for life, “Then help me now.” He said in a panic.

He turned back to the group of mismatched sigils, they thought him to be a madman. Perhaps he was.

“End this, all of it.” He muttered, scratching at his skin like fleas were on top of him. Robb looked down to the dagger kept at his side, Harwin realizing what he meant began to step away.

“You’ve been loyal to my family as long as I could remember. Just fix what happened, and it will all be over.” He looked around in a fret of disbelief.

“He has a purpose, Harwin.” The Lord of Death, he would now call him spoke up. “NO!” Robb snapped back. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t matter. Just let me do this, please..”

“Robb..” He could already tell the answer from the sound of Harwin’s voice. But he would not have it. “Please..” He begged. “Kill me.” He told them.

“Do it.” He raised his voice louder almost commanding it. They looked around with worried looks grasping their swords. “Quiet your voice, there’s not enough of us to defend ourselves if they hear-“

“KILL ME!” Robb cried out, pacing back and forth shaking his head. “Please, I can’t do this. Don’t make me do this, I cant live like this.. Without her, I need her—“ A bearded man with a yellow cloak pulled him aside as voices echoed through the woods.

He was close enough to grabbed for his knife, pushing away. Robb grasp the tilt of the blade so tight his knuckles burned. Just one quick pull of the blade and it would all be over, away from it all. He pressed it firm against his throat as the blade kissed his skin.

But with one thud of his head, the knife fell from his hands. His body felt heavy and went limp, as he hit the ground, there were no more songs in his head, only the stars to look up at.

Chapter Text

Greetings loved ones, here we go again. Part 2 to the previous chapter to the flashback of a… lost wolf. Some new characters, different storyline than season 8 *praise be*, but all mixed into one blob of a fanfic by yours truly. Thank you to those who stuck around, and welcome newcomers. More on the way, enjoy and tell me what you think! X

Robb:

The deafening pierce had rung throughout his ears, until the song tuned him out. The singer’s voice was so sad, it was almost peaceful. Robb remembered it, the song of the Targaryen Queen. As Alysanne went on, it came back to him, playing in the hall. The Greatjon’s booming voice saying the wrong words as Roslin began to cry at the bedding.

As the cut on his neck stung against the wind blowing. But he felt the small touch against his wound, a hand grabbing at him.

He pulled the stranger’s hand off squeezing the wrist into his grip. It was thin and bony, too frail for a man’s, but only a child. Robb turned his head up to a frightened boy, pale as snow, almost the same color as his hair.

Robb was the monster, frightening a boy no older than Bran. He let go of the boy’s arm gently as he rolled up the rags beside him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The boy stuttered, looking away.

His neck burned slightly as he turned to the fire looming on ahead of them. They were surrounded by stone walls covering them in darkness, with great white weirwood roots growing out from under them.

He winced at the sting across his throat, Robb grazed his neck feeling the bandages wrapped around him. The boy, he was trying to help him. “Your neck.” The lad pointed to him. “It’s just a poultice to stop the bleeding.” He seemed used to helping others, probably not with those who planned on slitting their own throat, but he was good at it.

Robb groaned when his head lifted off the ground, the boy looked away. “I’m sorry, my Lord.” He looked to him with large, dark blue stones for eyes. Why won’t he leave me alone. I’m not his father, no one’s at all..

“Stop saying that.” Robb told him, the boy nodded his head. “Sorry.” His eyes widened, listening to himself. “I mean—“

“I know what you meant.” He demanded. The boy’s hair had grown long and shuffled, he could tell he wasn’t used to it because he kept scratching at it. He wore a set of big round eyes that were a deep dark blue they’d almost look purple in the torch. With a purple cloak that laid at his feet, and that was all he knew of the child.

“Ned.. That’s my name.” Robb stared up at him as he spoke, the boy looked at him with pity. He knew who he was. “But my mother gave me the name Edric.. Edric Dayne..” Robb had heard of the Daynes of Starfall long before meeting the small one that sat beside him.

He had heard of the once brave warriors of Dorne like Ser Arthur Dayne who had once been one of the deadliest knights of the Mad King’s Kingsguard. How the stories spoke of him and the songs sang their sweet tunes until his father killed him in single combat during Robert’s Rebellion. The name had almost entirely died out with few left, how the Starks and the Daynes were on opposite sides of Westeros have become so similar.

He groaned at the one person who wouldn’t leave him be. “Where are we?” He asked.

The air was dry and smelled of smoke, his voice echoed slightly. He could tell it was a cave, they stood probably underground from the tree roots surrounding them. “This is where we camp. Too many Lannisters looking for Lord Beric to stay in villages, we can’t protect the people if the Lannisters torture them for helping us..”

He knew that name.. but everything was a fog in his mind. “Why did you bring me with you?” He said in a grim voice.

Ned turned to him with wide eyes, as his hands quit shifting around nervously. “Well, we couldn’t just leave you there, alone.”

“Well, you should have.” Robb told him. Left him there to rot. He should be dead and buried, but he was dragged back here. To the hell they all live in.

“And what if we did?” The Dayne boy crossed his arms with his brows furrowed stubbornly. “The Freys would have found you and done whatever it is they did to you again..”

“I should have stayed that way!” He slammed his fists into the dirt, it didn’t matter. Whatever was left of him had gone numb. “You’re a child.. You don’t know me, you just follow your pack of outlaws running in fear of what.. death? Well, I’ve seen it, boy.. Nothing matters, not this place or any of them, you or me...”

“Maybe I do know you, I’ve heard stories.” The Dayne lad mumbled under his breath. Robb couldn’t hold in his laughter, he was out of breath as he gasped and felt the heat burning through his skin. Perhaps he was going mad.

“Tell me a story, Ned.” He thought of his father. How proud Ned Stark would be of his son and heir, looking at him now. His men, their people were dead, laid dead at the dinner table because of him. Because of his stupidity, and yet here he stood, alone in hiding with a child acting more grown than himself.

“I heard of a boy, who’s father was named a traitor, and they killed him. But the boy, he was brave. And he and his soldiers rode South to avenge him, and they made him a King.” Robb shook his head violently to Ned’s words.

It had felt so long since he saw that boy, the one Ned Dayne spoke of. He wasn’t brave, he wasn’t good, he was scared. That boy died the day the GreatJon knelt before him and named him King in the North.

“And that boy is gone.. I don’t know why you still speak of him, what is it want from this? Did you grow up on those stories, the brave, good knights to be the heroes. Well, they’re lies, and they do no good but to get all those around him killed! Because she’s dead. She’s dead, they’re all dead because of him!”

He rose tearing the blood stained tunic from his shoulders, ripping the two wolf clasp off of himself. None of this mattered, he thought. He could see the opening, the wind brushed against his arms, he needed breath, get away from all of this. His skin was on fire, as he screamed and fought as one held him down. “You’re alright..”

Little Ned Dayne had run off as they pulled him back. He could smell the smoke of the bonfire burn as they drew closer. They sat him on the ground beside them all, looking at him like the animal he must have been.

The red bearded fat man laid next to him, “Calm yourself.. Drink.” He tossed the wineskin across his lap. Robb wanted to break it off the fat man’s smug face, but he only threw it away from himself. The leather caught hold of the little embers floating as the wine spilled out the top, the ginger grabbed it quick enough slapping it clean. “That was uncalled for.”

“Why won’t you let me leave?” Robb asked, looking at the worried eyes around him, with another lad fiddling with a bow and arrow. 

They ignored him, as the old one sat beside him. “Beric Dondarrion.” He called himself before pointing to the drunken one in red. “That one would be Thoros of Myr.”

Harwin was in the corner, he wouldn’t look back at Robb, just drinking. The ginger took another sip as he waited, when the other one returned.

“No one’s stopping you, it’s just best if you wait till the morrow. You wouldn’t know your way from here.” Beric tried assuring him, but failed.

“And where is here?” He asked, as they traded looks through the smoke. The boy Ned had mentioned them hiding from the Lannisters. He remembered rumors of rebel fighters in the Riverlands while they stayed in Riverrun.

“Do you think I have any reason to tell the Lannisters where you’re all hiding. I don’t care what the Brotherhood does.” He must’ve thought Robb was a fool, he probably was as he chuckled at him.

“Ned’s still a boy, my apologies if he can be a bother. My squire, he’ll learn in time.” A boy. That’s what he called him, was that supposed to mean something to him?

“It doesn’t matter, he should know better.” Robb muttered under his breath. Little boys in this world always die, he thought. They stay young forever in death, or kill the boy in them and let the man be born.

“Did any of us know at his age?” He asked. Robb remembered a time. When they were all young. Theon Greyjoy was his oldest friend, who had known him since they were even younger than Ned Dayne was. Bran and Rickon are boys. They were, he had to say now.

Because Then Greyjoy was a traitor, and turncloak who betrayed Robb. He put Winterfell to the torch, killing all those in it. The boy he once knew had died the day he had Theon return to the Iron Islands.

Bran and Rickon were left at Winterfell to let them be children, to save them from what life truly was in this terrible world for a little longer. Robb thought they would be safe, to be able to save his brothers when his sisters were stuck in the South, and he was playing at war. But Theon Greyjoy took another part of him, and killed Bran and Rickon, the boys he had known since they were born.

They all ran throughout his head, haunting him. Joffrey had taken his hope, by having his father  killed on the steps of Baelor in King’s Landing, when Robb thought he could save him. Theon took all that was his safety; his home, his people, family. Then Walder Frey and Roose Bolton had finished him off at the end, taking all that he had left at his uncle’s wedding. Leaving him in a hollowed out shell of the man he was, or wanted to be.

He couldn’t even blame fully, no matter who he named it always went back to himself. Robb was a fool, who caused all of this horror and pain. He dragged it along with him everywhere he went.

“It will end soon, what you’re feeling.. inside.” He looked back at Robb with pity in his one eye. Robb felt nothing at all but felt the need of bursting out in laughter. Perhaps he was going mad. “And how would you know anything about me?” He asked.

He looked down at his boots before answering. House Dondarrion had been an old house from the Stormlands, still living well, yet he couldn’t figure out how this Lord Beric had come to be here now. “Oh I know you now, boy. I am you.” He sighed pulling at his tunic, showing the many scars deep and big enough to have fought a hundred battles.

“Thoros, how many times have you brought me back?”

He grunted as he rolled off his back to join them. “We’ve talk about this before already. Five.. no six after the Clegane one with the-“ Beric stopped him from going on anymore.

“I barely remember them, really. They’re all different, the hangings, stabbings..” Beric went on.

“Sometimes both” Thoros took a pause from his wine, chuckling. “Fucking Lannisters kept seeing him again and again, they did both thinking he would die for once.”

“But they all end up the same way, with this one standing over me..” Six times, he thought. To relive life over again, cruel he thought.

“Why?” Robb asked truly wondering why they would do it over, and over. But they paused, only looking into the fire.

“It’s the Lord of Light who does it, I’m just the lucky drunk who says the words.” Thoros gave an ugly grin across from them, the embers floating in his hair.

“The first time, it was on the Mummer’s Ford. The Mountain..” He grumbled as he showed off the blackened scar across his chest.

“It was a lance through the chest, it was over for me. I don’t remember much, I thought it was raining. The mist was warm as it hit me, but I was blinded by the pain I couldn’t even tell it was my own blood when I fell on the Ford.”

He saw Beric give a raise of his eyes as he peaked across the cave. “And Ned.. Edric Dayne was the one to drag me from the water, he stood over me during the battle, protecting me like the true squire he is..” Robb could see the young boy with a dim smile.

“I fear the day little Ned Dayne has a sword in his hand, a brave white knight.” Thoros hackled at his own jokes as he shook the scruff of silver hair on the boy’s head.

“I had been gone and dead in the grove by the time you and Harwin found us, Thoros.”

“Didn’t think much of it.” The priest said sullenly, without a joke in his voice for the first time since they had met. “I just said the old words, the little child prayer I had been taught in my younger days. Not because I believed in them, but you were my friend.” He raised his wine skin to the air, with a warm expression to his cheeks.

“And he was dead. And they were the only words I knew. And for the first time in my life, our Lord replied.”

Beric chuckled slightly “He did.”

He sounded also at peace reliving that one moment, until he turned back to Robb with his sad eye. “Now you see boy, I know you more than you think. I know the feeling more times than you’ll know. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest.”

Robb grimaced as he reached for the wine skin, it had a bitter taste to it as he pressed the opening to his lips. But the more he drank, the less empty he felt, and his mind had fogged and grew heavy. He leaned forward to Beric into an almost whisper, “Your Lord… your Lord of Light you told me before your men bashed me over the head..”

Whipping the leather wine pouch into the fire as the ember burst against all of them, as Robb became filled with laughter. “Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

“You wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t.” Thoros spat back at him.

“And that’s a good thing?” Robb asked, as his laughter died when he felt his chest, he could feel where Roose Bolton’s blade had pierced his heart had closed already, scarring and old as If it had been years.

The taste of ash in his smoke had dimmed, everything ached inside of him, but there were no bones broken. Robb could feel the singing pain of it. The proof of it all gone, losing it, losing her.

He could not say her name, he thought. He wouldn’t. He could barely breath as he kneeled in the dirt. He was nothing, not worthy of anything. But she was the one thing that was his only true happiness he had left.

And their life had faded away, every hope, every dream, every possibility of living had left with her. Robb was gone by the time he held Talisa’s lifeless body in his arms in the Great Hall of the Twins.

“If we hadn’t found you-“ He had tried to jump across the bonfire to get at him, to rip the throat of the drunken priest if he heard his voice one more time.

“IF YOU HADN’T FOUND ME, I WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE— FREE FROM THIS… THIS HELL—” His body was on fire, sweat boiled from his body as three of them held him back from Thoros of Myr.

He kicked them away, locking onto his crimson sleeve.

“Tell me.. could you bring back a woman gone, with a child in her belly.. Two little boys burnt to a crisp, how about a mother of five with her throat slashed?”

He thought of the morning in the Whispering Wood when the raven arrived. “Or a man.. a man without a head, not six times, just once..”

Beric stepped forward grabbing holding of his face tightly to the point of pain, to look him in the eyes. “I am sorry for what has happened to you, boy, but you cannot do this to yourself.” He paused suddenly, letting go of him. Robb could do nothing but slip to the ground, all eyes on him.

“I can’t account all you have lost, but I knew your father.. Ned Stark was a good man.” Beric told him, Thoros of Myr stood some steps back nodding in agreement.

“Ned Stark is dead…” Robb thought, as he unknowingly said aloud. The few flames of the fire still licked the charred remains of the logs, he noticed. His head had felt even heavier by the seconds, as he nodded up and down wanting to lay down so.

“But he is at rest, Robb, somewhere.” Harwin came up from the shadows, kneeling in front of him.

But he had been in that somewhere, until they dragged him back, and there was nothing to find. Only darkness.

“I would never wish this life upon him.” Lord Beric added in, he almost looked like a King in the dark, only to reveal the monster in the light

“And yet you’ve cursed me with this?” And with those words, he thought, the cave of brothers stood silent to his words.

He had never found such a euphoric feeling like when his eyes finally dropped, the flames had gone out, and his body finally let go in that moment.

The air was hot and heavy, the sun was at it’s peak. The pavement he had made his spot, made his skin tingle. It was better than most spots, where he had passed out. The heat almost shined in the air, his eyes were sunken and hazed by the sweat dripping down his forehead. It almost looked like a dream; a hot, humid dream, that reeked of dying flowers, and rotten animal dung with a stench that followed one throughout the whole city.

That was Volantis.

“You don’t have to leave.” Beric grazed the horse’s mane, holding the old mare still as his foot landed in the stirrup. “We know you don’t agree with who we are, what we do, but the Red God is the one true God and we obey.”

There was only one true God, he realized. Not the old ones in the weirwoods, nor the seven Gods of the South. Robb saw what was left of him when they are all gone, no light, no seven heavens, nothing. None of it mattered in the end, except the God of death.

Robb shook his head, “Thank you for the horse, your hospitality as well, Sir.” Those were the words his mother had taught him, to respect those around him, he would follow them still. He would not look at him, or anyone to be fair. He had to go, he thought. Had to leave.

“We share a common enemy, you may not like us or believe in what we do, but none of us wish to see the Lannister boy sit on the throne.. A King joining us would rally the people, you could take back your home, for your family.”

He chuckled shaking his head. “A King who let his home be put to the torch, his own people killed, and his family ripped root and stem. The War of Five Kings they call it, find the other four, maybe one of them will make you a knight or glory or whatever it is you want, just not from me.”

“We don’t fight for glory, or knighthood, or glory to be heroes in the children’s tales. Robert is gone, but his realm remains, and we defend her. Why should it not be the same for you, your father is gone, but house Stark remains.”

“I doesn’t matter anymore.” Robb shook his head as he tugged on the reins.

“What of you, your sister—“ He stopped the Lord Dondarrion in his boots, before he would let him go on. “Never speak of my sisters, you don’t get to mention them. You haven’t the right.” His sisters were lost to him, Arya had not been seen since his father’s death, and Robb just let Joffrey and the Queen trap Sansa in their claws.

Let them forget me.

They deserved more than what was left of the him. The King who lost the North, Lord KarStark had been right all along till the moment Robb took his head. Death followed him wherever he went, why should he stay and harm anyone else he cared about.

“Robb—“ Harwin barked back at him as he ignored him. Was that still his name, he wondered? Or perhaps that name still floated along the riverbank with the rest of his people.

“Let him go..” Thoros of Myr echoed from behind them, sipping the old half burnt wineskin. “This won’t be the last you’ll see of us, Lord Stark.” He gave a snort and twisted the orange hairs of his beard with his fingers.

“Leave the wolf be, Thoros. It’s his choice.” Beric called on as they gathered the rest of them. 

Thoros only gave a shrug of his shoulders. “A lion hunt it is, for now. But just you wait. You’ll come back for us, when your time is right, I saw it in the fire we lit to cook our suppers, the night before you came along..

“The right time, the right day, to be the right man, that’s not you; not yet anyway… Some day Stark, we’ll see each other again.”

“Your fires know nothing.” He whispered.

“Nothing but one, boy. The wolves will endure, but remember this; For the night is dark and full of terrors.” Thoros of Myr had left nothing more than a cackle with him as Robb parted ways with the Brotherhood. With himself as well, he thought. For the King in the North had died at the Twins, and the man who wore his reflection was just a lone traveler; onto Volantis.

The day he made it to Salt Pans, his horse had been worth as little as a quarter of what passage aboard a ship cost. His torn cloak, still had the fine silks they dressed him that night like a pig off to be slaughtered. The threads could be woven back, and the blood washed away, up for sale for the next and gold dragons to fill his empty pockets.

He didn’t need a room to sleep on, he had forget the last time he laid his head down. Probably when Ned Dayne had knocked his helm off the back of his head. Sleep was too quiet, and his mind raced with thoughts of before, and his eyes closed the faces of all those who had died stood before him. So he stayed awake.

It had become the same things everyday; packing up his rags by the docks when the sun rose before the sailors could find him, the common tongue was useless, with the Volantenes speaking High Valyrian, so the only one to talk to was himself, or drink.

Wine was cheaper than food, and his “honors”, what the Voltantene called their money had become less and less as he ate more, so he found himself rather drunk, and it all came back to him.

Every night, every day, he could remembered their screams, his skin could still feel the arrows imbedded in his body, with only the scars to prove it happened.

She haunted him, all the time, he was a fool to come here. Robb thought the pain would stop if he came here, where he knew nothing, just a name.

But the wine helped, it clouded his mind, and the day went by faster. He walked along the haborside of the Rhoyne, the sun had begun to dip into the water, but the heat hadn’t changed in the night.

Robb learned the path along the Western side of the city, passing the Long Bridge. He had begun to recognize the customs knowing where he could tread in the city. The old and rich Volantene stayed in the eastern side of the Long Bridge, where the darkened stones of the Black Wall had shown the lower class and in Robb’s case, foreigners, were restricted to stay.

The slaves looked at him sullenly, the ink marked on their face said more words than the chains on their necks could do. The horsehead, worked in the stables, flames across the cheek, chin, and forehead were for the Red Priests that Thoros worshipped

………………

Andddd that ladies and gentlemen was the last time my fingers touched the keyboard of this chapter, June 2020

Writings block, depression, college, the start of the world famous pandemic Covid-19 that changed our lives and I sadly lost my path on this story. I have all the key points planned out for this story still written in my notes and have decided to unleash the archives of what was to come with my fanfic, stay tuned tell me what you think and I will be back for the final outline.. X

Chapter Text

Ok kids here’s the finale just to keep people from wondering what was supposed to happen if I had finished this fanfic, enjoy tell me what you think, and back to Westeros we gooooo. 

 Chapter 17 was where we left off as I recall and I gave you a glimpse of Robb coming back after the Red Wedding. We met Thoros and Beric and how it came to term and got a glimpse of Edric Dayne. After Thoros says they’ll meet again Robb is off to Volantis for Talisa, he sees his family gone and death and there was nothing left for him in Westeros.

Volantis is in horrible state for Robb as he lives in poverty and at one point is kidnapped by slavers and auctioned off to the highest bidder. He is thrown into the fighting pits resisting the urge to harm another person and in the pits, it is every man for themselves, Robb is close to the brink of losing and dying and he becomes a feral beast fighting and at one point ripping a mans throat out covered in blood as the man who once was the King in the North.

Robb fights for his pay and known as a Westerosi savage, where one better watches him from above him and pays to buy him off. Robb untrusting tries to attack the man as they are on their way and this stranger takes him to a pleasure house with fellow Westerosis.

The mystery young man who “bought” him is introduced as Daemon Sand, squire to the Red Viper Oberyn Martell, and they are introduced to the Prince of Dorne and his paramour Ellaria.

Oberyn meets and takes an interest in him (Although Robb never tells him who he is) noting he’s lost everything that mattered to Robb and and his will to live promises that “we can avenge them” in reference to the pain he felt of losing Elia and tells him to keep drinking and carry on with life for those he lost. Oberyn then waves a scroll from his brother saying there is a royal wedding he must attend (purple wedding) and Oberyn sets him free.

……

Back to present, Robb and Daenerys are planning their armies to advance and Jon Snow, Arya and Gendry are sent as envoys to Dragonstone to retrieve the dragon glass for the long night to come.

On their ship from White Harbor their ship is taken captive by what is seen as pirates posing as a father and son with dyed blue hair on the pirate’s voyage to Dorne. (Aegon & Jon Connington)

The son known as griff takes a liking to Arya and he asks her to play a game of cyvasse with her to tell her her prize of winning will be she gets to know who he is, hinting of having a dead family long gone and this is a homecoming for him. The sun shines on the dyed hair dripping from young griff’s scalp and colors of natural silver hair are seen by Arya.

Simple as that the pirates release the Stark captives leaving them unharmed at Dragonstone where Young Griff says they will me again.

……

The Lannister army attacks the Tyrells same as season 8, but Olenna is swifted away to an ally in Dorne, the seat of House Dayne Starfall. Allyria Dayne sits with Olenna as Lannister troops surround them and Allyria says she will not lose any men to hide her and Olenna understands saying she needed more time to send word to Daenerys of the attack. Their final conversation is the rumors from the East and Allyria confirms House Dayne and several houses of Dorne have gone against Ellaria Sand siding with Daenerys and chose A DIFFERENT Targaryen. Olenna realizes the rumors are true and Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar is claiming to be alive and has begun to find support from allies. Chapter ends with Jaime entering the hall for the last conversation with Olenna as happened in season 8…

Time skips this is after the Spoils of War episode and Robb and the North have joined Daenerys after missing the field of fire scene w/ Jaime and Bronn. Just as Daenerys is going to kill the Tarly father and son Robb steps in asking for a change of decision as advice from one King to a Queen (he was thinking back of executing Lord Karstark).

Tyrion’s plan of going North to bring a white walker to Cersei goes along and Robb joins them and they find Thoros and Beric meeting them as he said before they would see each other again soon.

Same idea for what happens beyond the wall, Daenerys rescues them, Viserion dies, and Robb thinks Jon is dead. Robb and Daenerys share a moment on top of the wall as Robb looks out mourning his brother and Daenerys her son.

Jon comes back on horse and the group leaves EastWatch. Daenerys tells Robb the North will be a free Kingdom ruled by house Stark after defeating Cersei. Meeting of the Dragon pit takes place, and rioting begins outside the city in flea bottom, with stories of Aegon Targaryen is reborn and come to save the city from Lions, Wolves, and Dragons. Cersei agrees to send help.

Jaime and Cersei have their meeting and Cersei reveals it was all a trick and Robb and Daenerys won’t be a problem any long saying Euron can have them. Jaime realizes the trap and leaves Cerseis side to go warn the rebels of the coup that is going to happen.

Going back to their ships Robb, Daenerys, Missandei and Grey Worm are taken captive by Ironborn led by Euron. Dany and Robb are held below deck as Euron explains his plans of taking a new bride..

Jaime arrives at Stark/Targaryen camps to warn them but it is too late, and Theon volunteers to lead the rescue group, saying he failed Robb once and won’t do it again.

Beaten and starved in captivity Yara is below deck and warns them of what is to come and Daenerys is already coming to terms to what will happen to her. The ship arrives on the Iron Islands as Euron plans to celebrate his wedding to the dragon queen. A feast is held with the captives and Euron tells the tale of salt wives and rock wives to Daenerys and Missandei. Euron teases Grey Worm promising he will let his crew have their way with Missandei as she will only be a salt wife. A large fight starts at the dinner table and Daenerys stops the fighting by trying to seduce Euron saying not to ruin their wedding night. Euron stops the feast and sends everyone off, with the captives to their cells and Daenerys to his chambers. Euron and Robb sit at the table.

Euron forces Robb to drink shade of the evening and he tells him of his conquests as King of the Iron Islands, (killing Balon, reaping, raiding, raping, mutilation) and Robb begins to have hallucinations of a small house in Essos and he sits at a table with Oberyn and speak as if friends reuniting. A small silver haired child comes up to Robb flying a stuffed dragon around as she sits beside them. Oberyn explains, “A sad thing, a child alone in the world with the weight of the seven kingdoms on her shoulders.” Robb sees her as Daenerys only with bright blue eyes as she smiles back at him lovingly. Then the flashback takes them back to Winterfell with Robb and Jon as children running through the courtyard. Jon, Robb, and Theon are dueling and Theon knocks Jon to the ground where Robb says you never lose, and Theon says “We all will someday, and ill be there to see you fail.”

Robb goes “Why so you’ll get to gloat?” And Theon shakes his head “No t us, not brothers I’ll be there to lift you back up.”

Robb comes back to reality and Euron tells him he will lay with his queen tonight. Robb swears to him someday his face will be the last thing Euron sees before he dies.

In the cells, Aaron Greyjoy is keeping watch, who is Euron’s brother and Robb taunts him of telling him he protects his kinslaying brother (Aeron did not know who killed Balon).

Back in the cells Theon and the rescue team enter the cells, and release Yara, Robb and the others. As they go to leave for the ships Robb will not leave without Daenerys, and Yara and Theon take him to his chambers.

Back in Euron’s chambers Daenerys is trapped and beaten, where she will be raped when Aeron Greyjoy breaks the door down in rage for Euron’s crimes, and Daenerys is frozen on the ground and Robb takes her hand in assurance they’re leaving.

A duel on the beach occurs and Theon chooses in this moment to give Yara, Robb, and Daenerys a chance to get back to the ship while he sacrifices himself to Euron. As Theon is surrounded Robb rushes back to defend his former friend and tells him he will not die as an Ironborn and they escape.

Robb & Daenerys boat sex <3

………….

Moving onto season 8/ Winds of Winter parts in time, Robb and Daenerys troops arrive back in Winterfell, Littlefinger is dead as planned by Sansa. The long night is coming soon. Daenerys and Robb still together secretly.

Jon finds out his identity by Sam and Bran, and the reveal in the crypts in season 8 is actually between Robb and Jon and Daenerys still does not know.

The long night battle was going to happen in several parts 

1st battle: Winterfell, episode 3ish, but better. Podrick dies, Brienne knights him as his final wish, Beric sacrifices himself for Arya, Bran stays in the Godswood Robb and Theon protect him, Theon hates himself for what he did to house Stark and Bran tells him “Everything you’ve done has brought you where you are today.” And Robb agrees with, “Home.” 

Long night happens similar battle plan, Ice Dragon, Theon dies protecting Bran, Jorah DOES NOT die, and Night King is about to win when Winterfell is almost in pieces when Bran wargs into a wounded Rhaegal. The White Walkers stop their attack for now dispersing into the storm, and the sun rises.

Winterfell is practically in Ruins and the armies need to gather strength before the dead return. The Knights of the Vale are still in the Eyrie and Robb decides to march their armies south to rebuild. Sansa is left as ruler of the North in his place, with Grey Wind staying to guard Winterfell. If their armies survive the Night King, Sansa does not want to let their people die to fight Cersei and Daenerys’ war. Robb promises Sansa he will not betray his people or family again; Robb comes to Daenerys’ chambers and says when the war is done he will take his people home and they will rule each other their kingdoms separately and peacefully as respecting rulers. Daenerys agrees to the pact made between the two monarchs all while she hides the swollen belly beneath her furs only Missandei knowing the truth.

2nd Battle: Arriving at the Eyrie, Robin Arryn the fool he is plays like a child at war, not knowing what the snow storms coming are bringing. Lord Royce and other bannermen greet the leaders with a warning of a plague infecting the Vale, the Shivers a deadly virus infecting and killing the population. The infected have begun to be locked away in chambers to prevent disease and the dead pile in sky cells. Daenerys visits the sick, and Missandei warns her to be weary of her condition as Sam overhears the conversation with them. The High Hall is quiet and empty between Jon and Sam when the Night King attacks above the dead Viserion. Night King rises his hands and the deceased victims of the Vale rise and attack the armies and castle. Rhaegal comes to the defense but losing, Daenerys runs to find Dragon, while Robb joins Jon. Sam panicking telling Jon Rhaegal needs him telling him he’s Rhaegar Targaryen’s son and is blood of the dragon all while Daenerys is in the room. The dead begin to storm the castle, and Jon falls through the open moon door, and is caught by Rhaegal and becomes a dragon rider for the first time.

……..

Battle comes to an end as the White Walkers begin to disperse the next day and the army rides further south in hopes of gathering more time to gather strength. 

Gendry has an Obsidian hammer. Daenerys is beginning to come to terms w Jon being Rhaegar’s son and her claim is in jeopardy. Jon claims he doesn’t want the throne, but Daenerys continues to say it won’t matter when the Lords of Westeros know. Sam tries to bring the two together as Sam explains Maester Aemon saw this as destiny to bring their house back. Sam hints to Daenerys they both need to come together for their future and their children’s to save the realm. Jon understands what he hints to (Daenerys being pregnant) as he knows her and Robb have gone to each other this whole time.

Daenerys and her unsullied leave ahead of the Northerners where they will gather at the Twins soon enough.

Later, Robb tells Jon he will not put his feelings for Daenerys above the sake of his family or his people ever again. Jon explains he gave up long ago the idea of love of a woman and a child of his own, and he won’t let Robb do it as well. Robb realizes Daenerys is with child, and Jon says he will fight for both of his family members Robb and Daenerys and the future they have.

In the Riverlands Robb, Jon, and Arya find a weirwood tree, find the dying woods witch in previous chapters before by the chopped up weir wood trees. She blames the Long Night on her people (the children of the forest), and tells them one last vision of the great battle.

“My summer children, today is the day after the long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. The darkness shall flees before him where father once stood where son stands now sticken with the pointed end. But wait.. soon she will arise.. From smoke and salt she will be born to make the world anew. She is the promised one returned who will bring a summer that will never end… and all those who died fighting for her shall be reborn.” Robb thinks of Daenerys in her tale as he holds the woods witch’s hand.

Arriving at the Twins Daenerys and Robb reunite in the great hall where the Red Wedding took place and Robb does not fear the room he walks into. Robb tells her he know Daenerys is pregnant, and she didn’t want to have him choose between his people or her. She denies it herself that this child will be born alive, as she still thinks she will never birth a Robb tells Daenerys he loves her.

Final Battle: The armies are marching along the Trident as the sun sets and the time has come. Viserion flies overhead as the dead begin to march along the river. Daenerys on top of Drogon rises to meet the Night King as the dragons meet and dance. Suddenly the wounded Rhaegal flies between the two dragons as if sacrificing himself to protect Daenerys. Drogon takes control and flies away with Daenerys. Rhaegal tears at Viserion, who hits the icy water where the armies are fighting. Jon and Robb are separated, and Ghost stays by his side. The Night King lands on the riverbank and Jon stops in his tracks to face him, Ghost runs to attack when the Night King crushes his neck. Arya runs towards Jon willing to die for her brother with an obsidian dagger in her hand. Jon pushes her away as Gendry drags her back to the shore. The Night King has Jon on his knees with one hand around his neck as he feels his lungs ready to give out.
(Dying on the Trident, same as his father), when he drops the dagger out of one hand into the other striking open the Night King’s chest. Jon collapses, Rhaegal cries wounded beside him. The white walkers collapse, one after the other. The Long Night Ends, day break.

………………

Months have passed, the people have healed from the long night, the war for Westeros begins

Jaime & Brienne lay together, Gendry is named Lord of Storm’s End. The siege of King’s Landing begins to plan. Daenerys was taken to Dragonstone by Drogon. Jorah, Tyrion, Missandei, Gilly, Sam (for his maester skills) and remaining unsullied meet her and begin to debrief.

Edric Dayne Beric’s former squire is sent by Robb to Daenerys’ Queensguard, he wishes to be his family’s next sword of the morning and be the knight his uncle Arthur Dayne once was. Drogon flies off, while a dying Rhaegal returns to his ancestors home and lies along the shores.

Daenerys belly is swollen more and awakens to blood where she believes her time is coming where she’ll miscarriage as expected. Robb and Jon plan to sail for Dragonstone to discuss the siege from port and land. Daenerys collapses later in the night as Ned Dayne calls for Samwell. Slowly on the shores a dying dragon shuts its eyes for good as the scorpion spear pierces Rhaegals green scales on his chest. Euron has returned on orders of Cersei to raid Dragonstone. 

Gold company sellswords climb the walls, the wounded unsullied fall one by one, elephants crushing them, Grey Worm guards the door to Daenerys chambers.

Daenerys is dying in the birthing bed. She waits for Sam to tell her it’s a stillborn, when her stomach kicks. She feels her child rage to let out, a storm rages she thinks of her own mother in this very moment. The bed is soaked in her own blood and she offers herself in that moment.

“Cut me and save the babe.” Samwell mumbles and panics as he is not equipped for the task. Gilly promises her she’ll live and Daenerys can tell by the look on her face nothing will save her. Tyrion argues with her in that moment, not giving into her request. Sir Jorah is holding her as Daenerys screams, she yells “Tyrion Lannister, your queen is giving a command.” Sam begins to weep, his hands are shaking and Gilly nods her head, she knows what is to be done.

“You need to tell him, let him know.” She mutters to Tyrion, she will not let Robb fall apart when she is gone, not when they have come this close. Don’t let my child forget me, she thinks to herself.

“Khaleesi..” Sir Jorah whispers, he’s begging her not to leave him she can hear it in his voice. Daenerys pulls him close to a whisper, as she hears the blade being pulled out, “Her name.. is-”

As Grey Worm stands alone while the sellswords come to enter the doors, Lord Varys pulls the doors, opening them to show them their prize. “It is done, tell Queen Cersei the rebel Daenerys Targaryen is dead.”

The sellswords see the dagger beside her as the bloodied corpse leaks into the mattress, Euron laughs as he sees his queen that got away, they take Daenerys body, not knowing the only child of Robb Stark King in the North and Daenerys Targaryen rightful Queen of Westeros is swifted away through the hidden doors made by the Targaryen Kings long ago, where the Master of Whispers knew to send them.

Lord Varys looks like the insect he is betraying Daenerys, when he hears a whisper from the commanding officer of the Sellswords.

“Spider.” He calls after him. When Varys turns he sees the glimmer of goldish bronze in their armor almost as if he’s looking at Cersei Lannisters hair right in front of him. “Gift from the queen.” He plunges the knife and twists as Varys’ purple robes turn a deep crimson like the rains of Castamere, and the master of whispers falls. Dragonstone is raided and pillaged, a silver haired baby girl cries out for father who is sailing their way unknowingly stepping into his doom.

The ship begins to come ashore, Jon looks for the guards it is quiet, day was breaking. The air smelled of salt, smoke, and blood. A corpse of what was a decapitated Rhaegal lays on the beach.

Tyrion meets them at the docks, he smells of blood and tears.

“Her name is Rhaella.” Robb collapses.