Jamie Lannister sat in the basset hound inn, a rather pleasant place situated just outside of Lannisport. a mug of ale and a dish of pie lay on the table in front of him. So far he and his guard force had made good progress on their journey. The horses were the best to be found in the capital and so were able to travel well into the nights. Due to this they had arrived at Lannisport within a fortnight of leaving Kings landing.

Lannisport was something of a delicate situation, officially Cersei was still the lady of Casterly Rock. However, with her being queen regent, an arse was needed to reside in the castle. Tyrion was disqualified due to obvious reasons and Jamie had only just returned from a mission given to him personally from his sister. The role would have fallen to uncle Kevan however he was killed along with the Tyrells in the great sept.

The ugly truth was that ultimately Jamie would have to be given the role now that he had been dismissed from the queen's guard. A future which Jamie detested as much as he had the mad king. He was a soldier; he always would be a soldier. He knew as did his sister that he would be ineffective as head of Lannisport; but Jamie was a man, more so a man in need of redemption. He hoped that his ruling Lannisport as a fair and just lord might help him make peace with just a few of the daemons he had crossed during his life. He was only visiting his houses seat in order to inform his future advisors of the plan in person.

These thought raced through his mind as he ran his forefinger along the edge of his mug. He sat on his own at a small table in one of the shadowed corners of the tavern. His guard huddled around a table not five feet to his left. Far enough from him that they felt comfortable drinking yet close enough for them to be of aid should any trouble arise. Jamie doubted anything would happen though, he was the future ruler of Lannisport. No one would dare harm him or his guard in his own home. 'Just like no harm came to the Starks when you visited them in Winterfell' thought Jamie glumly as he brought the mug to his lips.

He ate his pie in peace that night, drinking away a few of his more persistent voices in his head. Retiring to his room for the night never noticing the minstrel quietly strumming his lute in the far side of the tavern. Or the subtle stares he threw the one handed Lannister. Arya Stark was not the only northerner with a list, and Darvon will have crossed one name off his before the morn.

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"You can't be serious" said Yara, confusion and anger lacing her words "House Farman will take up arms against you. It only makes sense to claim the isle as your own. Plus, their navy could hurt us badly should they fight"

Yara was standing opposite Deanerys and Tyrion on the bow of their fleet's flagship. Theon standing just to the side behind his sister his eyes downcast. Dani had sent for Yara shortly after reading Darvon's letter.

"The Fair isle's navy is indeed strong" said Tyrion, a goblet of wine held in his hand "So why would we attack them and loose a significant number of our fleet when we could have peace. We could possibly even gain there's if the right deal is struck"

"And how do you know you could have peace with them?" demanded Yara, "there is no reason to believe that they won't fight us until their last breath. They will always fight the Ironborn, that's what they do!"

"A trusted ally has informed me of their wish to avoid conflict" said Deanery's, her posture showing her regal nature in full force "Plus, with Fairisle on our side I am led to believe that taking the Iron islands back for you will be less costly on our own forces"

"We can't use house Farman to take the Iron islands; they are our greatest enemy. My followers would abandon me as soon as they heard I was striking peace with those people" Yara was horribly confused by this situation "Why do you even care for such a small house?"

"I don't" said Daenerys simply, shocking Yara "But I care for someone who does. I will not endanger my bond with this person simply because you cannot work past a grudge"

"It's more than a grudge!" yelled Yara, startling Theon nearly falling on the slippery wood of the ships deck "That house have been enemies of my own since before my father's birth. I cannot make peace with them even if I wanted to. My people would never stand for it"

Tyrion began to retort when Deanery's interrupted. Her tone marking the end of the argument "Yara. You came to me for aid and I have given it, I will give you the Iron islands and the lordship of your house. More than I am doing for most in Westeros. Now, if you want to throw all that away because of a grudge started long before your birth then you can. Of course that would include you and your followers being forced to leave my fleet to fight your uncle on your own."

There was a tense silence between the four as Yara fumed. "Fine" she said reluctantly "I will not attack house Farman nor will I lead any kind of assault on Fairisle. But I'm telling you now, I won't forget this" With that Yara stormed from the deck of the ship onto her own, Theon following behind timidly.

"Well" said Tyrion with a sigh after the Greyjoys had returned to their own ship "That could have gone worse. Could have gone better too mind"

"She will fall inline or I will end her house as I will the rest" said Daenerys simply as she looked out across the ocean. Rough shapes were beginning to be seen on the horizon.

"I have an idea if you'd permit" said Tyrion, gazing toward Westeros by the side of his queen

"Go on"

"Well…. If we're going to go through this much trouble for one minor house, it may be worth paying them a visit. I for one am shocked that Darvon has a house he cares enough to pen this request over; we both know how he hates to feel indebted to another."

"Do you not think that they would worry, seeing an armada complete with Greyjoy ships sailing for them?"

"True… unless you write to them, of course that begs the question of what disguise Darvon used while he was with them doesn't it. It's not like you can write to him personally is it, the nature of a traveller forbids such things unfortunately."

"He said he didn't know where he would be travelling too, but if this house is of such importance to him he may be visiting there. Offer his support in a time of war"

"He could…." Said Tyrion "World travels fast in Westeros. My sister will no doubt be calling her houses to arms and while house Farman may not wish for combat they are currently sword to her."

"Darvon said in his letter that he would get the house to swear to neutrality, knowing him he will likely get them to raise arms for me"

"Aye, Darvon has always had a way with people" said Tyrion with a nod of his head "Which is why he will likely find it necessary to visit Fairisle personally. Declaring neutral or worse taking arms against my sister makes them oath breakers. They would be banking their very existence on our victory"

"Which we will do. Once I have claimed the throne I will give them riches for their efforts should they side with me"

"Generous my queen, but I fear we may be digressing here somewhat." Tyrion had turned from the horizon to face Daenerys directly now "The point is that for a house to gamble with their existence will take some convincing. Darvon's skill is in his words more so than his writing. Even if house Farman holds Darvon in as much regard as he clearly holds them they would likely decline his request if it was sent via raven"

"That rather seems like Darvon's problem to me" replied Daenerys "How does this effect my course"

"I will pen a letter to house Farman, however I fear that if they do not have any message of comfort from Darvon then they may believe that our intentions are to hand their lands over to Yara. What we need is for Darvon to send a raven to them himself, explaining the plan"

"Which would require me to send a raven to Darvon" said Daenerys, finishing Tyrions train of thought "But I do not know where he is, a raven needs a sense of direction does it not."

"We don't know where Darvon is true…. But we know where his brother and sister reside" silence descended over the pair as the implications of Tyrions idea sunk in.

"Absolutely not" said Dani after a while "He trusts few with his true identity, I will not betray the trust he has placed in me now. Never mind the fact that he has likely not contacted his household. No, Darvon is a proud man with a strong sense of justice. If I betray him now he will hold it against me, and he has a long memory"

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Jon had taken to roaming the halls of Winterfell when he couldn't sleep. He had hoped that once he had freed Winterfell from Ramsey Bolton that he would feel welcomed within the hall. There were many celebrations when Jon was announced as the new king in the north, but even through all of the parties Jon never felt at home, he was glad when the celebrations finally ceased.

It was then that Jon had accepted the facts. Much like runaway half-brother before him, Winterfell would never serve as a home to the bastard born. He had earned his place on the wall, became a respected figure. That was where he belonged. He worried about what Eddard would think of such thoughts. Jon had seen how devastated his father was after Darvon fled the north. Eddard would go from bright smiles to gloomy longing at the mere mention of his second eldest son.

Jon had little memories of Darvon Stark, he was only young when the Stark ran away. Jon had never understood why he had until now. Why would the second born Stark want to leave? He wasn't a bastard born like Jon, he would have been forever welcome in Winterfell.

Jon had always sought to be welcomed in Winterfell, to feel loved by his half family. Now that he was though Jon felt no different than he did before he set off to the wall. He had felt numb ever since the red lady brought him back from the dead. His fears and worried from his previous life seem so trivial now. What did it matter how he felt in Winterfell? Life was too short to spend worrying over just one castle.

Maybe Darvon knew that. Maybe had had realised that Winterfell would never be his home no matter how welcomed he may be. Jon had hated Darvon for many years after he had left, Catelyn's venom towards Jon had only increased after the Starks departure. She had said once that Jon had chased him away in a grab for power. Now though, he felt almost proud of his half-brother. Darvon held no desire to appease his family, he didn't care to appease anyone. Maybe if Jon had shared in that attitude things would have turned out differently. If Jon had only cared for himself maybe he would have run from the wall when he heard of his father, maybe his brother and step mother would still be alive if he was just a little more like his elder brother.

Jon fought to conjure a memory of Darvon's face as he walked into the courtyard where the final giant fell but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember his half-brothers image. Perhaps that was better, what good would remembering another lost brother do? Jon still saw poor Rickon's face each time he closed his eyes. If only Jon had been faster, if only he had told his brother to duck or weave then he would still be alive.

How anyone could rally behind him Jon didn't know. He was a failure; he couldn't even save his own brother when he was right in front of him. Rob was a leader, a kind and honest man with a wise mother to tutor him. Following him would have been easy, but Jon didn't know how to lead a campaign. He knew what to do in a battle sure but in politics, Jon was as clueless as a freshly born babe.

Thankfully Jon was pulled from these thoughts as a raven flew overhead, squawking as it glided. Jon decided to follow the bird to the raven nest. He knew that sleep would continue to elude him for hours yet. He may as well kill time seeing whatever news the bird carried. He used to be afraid of the raven tower as a child. The squawking would startle young Jon; he was eight when he had finally worked up the courage to enter, he vaguely remembered Darvon having an impact on his decision to enter all those years ago. How foolish the fears of a child seemed now, when white walkers were bearing down on Westeros. Death on their minds.

Jon's blood ran cold when he saw the leader of the white walkers. Pale blue eyes seemed to make time stand still when they locked onto Jon's own brown orbs. Jon had never felt so paralyzed since that battle. Not even when he had been betrayed at the wall. As he opened the note from the raven however Jon felt a familiar sense of paralysis take hold of his body. The note had no pleasantries, just the basic facts and was sealed with a simple grey blob of wax.

Jon Snow

Bran has arrived at the wall. He says he must talk to you urgently.

Edd Tollett

With those few words Jon once again felt his entire world flip upside down. Bran, alive at the wall. Countless questions rushed through his head as Jon ran across the courtyard to where his sister slept. Not caring to knock before he barged through the door. His sister woke with a scream at her brother's actions.

"Sansa" yelled Jon excitedly before she could chastise him for the intrusion "Brans alive"

The next morning Jon along with a small guard force raced from Winterfell. Their horses charging at a full gallop toward the wall where his brother lay.

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Sandor Clegane had already forgotten about the trek he had travelled. He no longer cared about the blisters on his feet or the hunger he felt down to his bones. For the little group had made it through the mountains east of Gulltown. Finally arriving at Wickendon in the early hours of the morning. They were to spend the night at the local inn and then finally, then would move onto Harrenhal. The fire worshippers had told Sandor that the journey to Herenhall shouldn't take more than another four days.

Four days until he saw the red lady and far more importantly, four days until he saw Arya Stark again. Sure, he knew that in all likelihood he was setting himself up for disappointment. The red lady would more than likely not be there and if the girl had learnt since he saw her last then she would know not to kill her targets so close together. Suspicion wasn't a good thing for an assassin to attract.

But even so he couldn't help but hope to see the girl again. He would be lying to himself If he said he didn't enjoy her company towards the end of their travels. He also couldn't help but think that the girl did too. She chose not to kill him, at first he thought she did it so that he would die slow but as time passed he realised that was false. The girl was clever beyond her years, she knew they were by a road, otherwise the Tarth bitch would never have found them. No, she had known it was likely he would be found. She just didn't want to kill him; had she crossed him off her list? Had she forgiven him for the butcher's boy?

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Darvon stark had ran out of money, he had managed to get from Highgarden to Lannisport with what little coin he had left since he journeyed across the sea. In hindsight he probably shouldn't have ordered such an outlandish breakfast back at the blooming rose. Although it was only because he had used the last of his coins that he found himself in the basset hound inn. Maybe the gods intended for him to have to earn more coin. He had convinced the owner of the establishment, a large portly man with a balding head to give him eight gold pieces for a full nights performing. More than enough to get him a ship from Feastfires to Faircastle.

The mood of the tavern had altered drastically when the Lannister patrol entered. The room had gone from comfortingly cheery to horribly tense in just a few moments. The guards had all sat around one table, looking comical as they jostled for seats around the rather small surface. Jamie Lannister opted to seat himself in the corner of the tavern, looking infinitely more comfortable as his face was engulfed in shadow. Darvon's eyes stuck to the lion as a wolfs would when tracking its prey.

Darvon had to admit he was a little disappointed in Jamie Lannister, here was a man who had caused so much death. A member of a family who had implemented the assassination of his brother and mother, not to mention the man who crippled little Bran. Yet as he sat there in the corner of the tavern he looked like just another haunted soldier, drowning himself in alcohol in search of relief from whatever horrors plagued him.

It wasn't hard for Darvon to sneak the potion into the drinks the guards were enjoying. No one ever noticed a minstrel after all. The drug wouldn't kill them, Darvon had no reason to do so. It would just ensure that they wouldn't be of any help to the Lannister when Darvon visited in the night.

It was well into the night when Jamie Lannister finally retired to his room. Darvon smiled at the timing, if he had just waited another twenty minutes then he would have likely been able to see the guards succumbing to a deep unconsciousness in their chairs.

Darvon finished work a few hours after the Lannister had gone to bed, the tavern owner gave him a handful of coins with a smile on his face. Darvon felt a pang of guilt at that, the fallout from what he was about to do would likely fall on the man's bald head. Not to mention the drugged guards, if he were to kill the Lannister then their deaths would no doubt follow. Even if he only maimed the lion the guards would still likely be stripped of all titles and banished.

He couldn't think like that though. He was one of the faceless men after all, and he had seen his target. Darvon left the tavern with a false smile on his face, still in his minstrel costume. He then casually walked around the back of the tavern where he could change into less conspicuous clothing. His satchel coming in doubly useful as it held both his spare clothes and his dagger.

A frightfully sharp 12-inch blade extruded from a goat's skin handle. The metal polished to a blinding shine. Like most of his possessions Darvon was given the blade as a gift, this time from a city guardsmen's family in Highgarden. The guard had been badly wounded in a confrontation with a thief in the woods when Darvon nursed the man back to health, his wife had been so grateful that she had given Darvon the knife as thanks. She said her father gave it to her before his death, now it was yet another item Darvon would cherish until he died. Just another reason he so loved to travel.

Tucking the dagger into his sleeve Darvon wrapped his scarf around his neck and he re-entered the tavern. Pulling the scarf up onto his face so it would cover his mouth and nose. He would have liked to have made a more secure disguise but time was of the essence. Inside, the tavern was much like it was when Darvon had left. Unsurprising, considering it only took him ten minutes to change outfit and stash his supplies.

He moved like a shadow through the crowd towards the rooms. After checking on the guards, who were still sound asleep. Their faces resting on the table edge Darvon prowled in the direction of the Lannister. He opened each bedroom door a crack to check its inhabitants. A rather arduous task considering the tavern contained at least fifteen rooms before he settled on the final room. The room where the one handed lion lay asleep.

Pulling the dagger from his sleeve Darvon slowly opened the door and crept inside the room, Jamie Lannister sleeping soundly in the bed as he approached.

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Yara was pacing around her cabin furiously. How could Daenerys even think of such a stupid plan? Make peace with the Farman's, what a ridiculous suggestion. That house would always be an enemy of the Ironborn. Yet Daenerys demanded peace, and Yara had no intention of angering the women with three dragons under her command. Yara had seen what those creatures could do when she first met the future queen.

But the question remained; who was it Daenerys cared so much for that she would gamble on a house she has never met? Yara couldn't think of many people the mother of dragons would even call acquaintance, and non that would have an interest in protecting house Farman. Maybe she would ask Tyrion? The dwarf might be utterly insufferable but maybe he would talk to Yara if she told him why she needed to know the identity of the person who held such power over the queen. Especially if she threatened him a little.

With that in mind Yara left her cabin, instructing her crew to lower the rowboat as she did so. The Ironborn had given their flagship to the mother of dragons as tribute when they struck their alliance and so Yara had to settle for their second best ship. While it was no way near as powerful as her old one Yara did appreciate the speed of her new ship. Armour was useful sure but speed could be more deadly than cannons when used correctly.

She was halfway between her ship and Daenerys's when she heard the war horns. There on the horizon were the silhouette of ships, too many ships to be anything short of a fleet and a large one at that. Yara began to row furiously back towards her own ship, almost there the crew threw her a rope. Tugging on the rope Yara glanced once more at the fleet on the horizon. Now close enough to make out the symbol on the sails.

Black flags with a golden kraken with the words 'What is dead may never die' written beneath. Yara pulled herself on board with a muttered curse. She immediately began barking orders to her crew as she raced to the view deck. Yelling for Theon as she ran, her brother came running up beside her.

"Who is it?" asked Theon urgently

"Who do you think it is brother?" Snapped Yara, turning to her brother sharply "uncle-"

Theon didn't hear his sister finish her sentence as the deck of the ship both Ironborn stood on disappeared from under them. The last thing Theon heard as he plunged into the sea was the sound of cannons firing around him and wooden splinters flying past his ears. He prayed for his sister as unconsciousness claimed him and he fell into the cold depths of the ocean.

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A/N: Okay, so there was just a tiny wait of four months…..

Uni work became hectic and I am currently stressed with trying to figure out the details of an exchange year placement. Im not going to give an estimate for the nest chapter because I never seem to be able to meet them.

Anywho I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review as it helps me think of ideas for future chapters. I have a plan for most of the characters but some (including Darvon) are proving difficult to think of endings for.