So… not the longest chapter, but I'm moving the plot forwards and… well, you'll see. Someone called it, but enjoy!

Viserys Targaryen – Storm's End, The Stormlands

I'd never seen Storm's End before. Though, I'd heard the stories of torrential downpours, with wind howling ceaselessly against the thick castle walls. I knew it had earned it's name. It was often said that hard land bred hard men. And while the Ironborn may have boasted of this, I knew that the men of the Stormlands were true warriors in Westeros.

They had held back the Dornish armies from the Realm for years. Centuries of constant on-going skirmishes across the Red Mountains. They'd never thought to look North for a threat.

And then Aeron had been crowned King.

I landed with Moonfyre outside the castle, letting her roar and screech to announce our arrival. Men had sullied out onto the curtain walls to draw their bows, but it was only when Haylise and I dismounted and Moonfyre jettisoned back into the skies above that they opened their gates.

Storm's End was nothing I'd ever seen before. There was no sprawling city, no great sept or bustling trade. Instead, there were a pair of blacksmiths, hammering their blazing steel, all the crossguards of the swords fashioned into antlers.

Out of the keep, a familiar boy walked out. He was small and meek, but had the same dark Baratheon hair as Haylise, and the same piercing, hard blue eyes. Ryleigh, Haylise's younger brother. The girl beside Ryliegh, however, I did not recognize. She was incredibly pale, dressed in a rather poor, simple dark gown under a thick fur cloak. Her hair was an ashen shade of brown, and her eyes were a pale flint tone. Freckles lightly dusted her small and pretty nose. In fact, the girl in general was small and pretty. So tiny and delicate, I wondered why she hadn't collapsed from the weight of the cloak. It was only when she came closer, moving an arm from under her cloak, I saw the sigil of a grey direwolf embroidered onto her dress.

She was the Stark girl.

"Your Grace." Ryleigh knelt. The Stark girl looked anxiously from Ryleigh to me before kneeling with the rest of the courtyard. I clasped my hands; I was used to people kneeling, but not to being heralded as King.

"Arise?" I said after a moment, watching them all stand. Haylise moved forwards to Ryleigh, hugging him tightly.

"Thank the Seven, Ryleigh…" Haylise let out a breath of relief.

"I heard about King's Landing…" Ryleigh began to explain. "Father's…"

"I know." Haylise nodded. She then looked to see the Stark girl, who looked about as self-conscious as I was. "You must be Evalyn Stark."

"Yes, My Lady- Your Grace. Apologies, Your Grace." The girl curtsied. She spoke with a soft northern twang – I don't think I'd ever heard a Northerner talk before.

"That's quite alright. I hear we're to be sisters." Haylise smiled, taking Evie in her arms.

"Lord Baratheon," I moved forwards, "Aeron the Pretender has wrong us both." I took a breath. I didn't know much about politics or how to conduct myself. But I knew war. "I wish to join forces with you, and discuss re-taking King's Landing."

Ryleigh nodded, gulping. "Come, Your Grace, let us speak more inside…"

Haylise Baratheon – Storm's End, The Stormlands

Ryleigh and Viserys had left to consult with Ayric Dondarrion about the castle's defense, and inquire as to how many men they could spare to march on King's Landing. Though Ryleigh wanted me to join for support, I knew it wasn't my place. I could not be seen as holding Ryleigh's hand – he was Lord now. He needed to know what that meant. Viserys was there, his brother by marriage, to show him how to lead. I trusted no-one else more.

I stood in the hall, looking at the tapestry of our family that hung between two windows. It had been commissioned eight years ago. It felt strange looking back at us then – before everything changed. The five of us stood in front of Storm's End. In the front, stood father, next to Rylon. Father rested his hands on his large Warhammer, while Baldinar stood beside him, a hand on the scabbard his sword sat in. Ryleigh stood in front of them, the smallest of the men in the picture. Even then, when father and Baldinar were muscular and broad-shouldered, Ryleigh was tiny. I stood next to mother, whose blonde hair was worn up in intricate braids. I looked nothing like her, regardless of what father had always said to me. I stood beside her, meek, at the mere age of twelve.

The door opened, and I turned to see Evie there. The pretty little jewel from the North.

"Forgive me, Your Grace." Evie curtsied and went to leave.

"It's okay, Evie." I smiled. "I was just thinking about my parents…" I looked back at the pair of them. But, I couldn't bring myself to remember them. I suppose there was very little time, what with the impending war… I couldn't find the strength within myself to weather the pain I'd feel at the thought us hunting together. At Father roaring and cursing when he failed to fell a stag. Or how he'd scoff at Ryleigh insisting on staying with mother and I while he and Baldinar hunted together.

"We have a tapestry in Winterfell." Evie informed me, moving up to stand next to me and look up at it. "Father never liked it though."

"Why's that?" I smiled. It felt nice to just… talk. No war or strategies – just talking.

"He said it lacked someone…" Evie bit her lip before letting out a sigh.

"How old are you, Evie?"

"Fifteen, Your Grace."

"Fifteen, and already betrothed…" I chuckled. "It took father a while to arrange a match for me. No-one wanted to be with Haylise the Ruined."

"Viserys did, Your Grace."

I scoffed at this. "I think we both know that marriages are made by our fathers." I moved away to pour myself a cup of wine, picking at the roasted venison. "But Viserys has been kind to me. And I can promise you that Ryleigh will be too. He's a gentle soul."

"I like him very much, Your Grace." Evie smiled. It was warm, rather than polite. Genuine. "He's not what I expected."

"And you aren't what I expected. I've thought all Starks were honourable fools." I sighed. "I apologise… that was rude."

"Honour is all we have in the North." Evie turned away from me, back to the tapestry. "Southerners have warm days, rich lands, and politics. But the Northerners have home."

I nodded. I understood this. The man I had met all those years ago had said something extremely similar. "Without the cold, a man can't appreciate the fire in his hearth." I recited. "Without the rain, a man can't appreciate the roof above his head."

Evie nodded. "That's what father used to say to my brothers and I."

"You have brothers as well." I remembered.

"Three, Your Grace."

"Three?" I frowned. As far as I knew, she had two.

"Well… two." She corrected herself. "And one half-brother. Finn."

That was a name I hadn't heard for years. Not out loud, anyhow. Hearing Evie say it, so full of sorrow and mourning… I suppose I understood, in some small way. Baldinar was in King's Landing, with the enemy. It was never easy being so far from those you call kin. "You miss him, don't you?" Evie nodded. "I see why…" I sipped my wine, "he had a way of seeing the world. So open and full of adventure and possibility."

"You'd met him?" Evie's eyes swelled with excitement and eagerness.

"Just once. Six years ago… There was a tourney in Riverrun for the wedding of Jessamin and Florian." I thought back to the first time I saw him. Whereas the other boys were busy practicing with the sword, and preparing to joust, I came across Finn Snow with his brother Markas, getting drunk and rowdy away from their father. At least, Finn was.

When it came to the match, Finn Snow stepped into the wooden ring to practice with the sword. Gods… seeing him move around, his dark hair falling to his neck as he ducked and jumped around… That laugh he gave when he disarmed a man…

It was when a blade cut through his leather armour and grazed his skin that the other girls began to notice Finn. He stuck his longsword into the dirt and marched towards the other boy, proceeding to strike him with gloved hands, tearing off his helmet and tackling him to the floor. Of course, he was disqualified from the tourney as men pulled him off the poor Frey boy, but he was exciting. Different.

"Did you know him well? Evie asked me.

I remembered how he held me that night. The quiet little kisses on my neck as his hair fell down beside his even darker eyes. How I'd kissed the scar on his arm. How we'd struggled not to moan, or the innkeeper would have investigated.

And I remembered awakening to find he had left. His clothes were gone from the floor, and I was alone. The next time I heard anything about Finn Snow, it was the scandal. Two years later, he was exiled by his own father to Essos.

"No. Not well." I pasted on a smile. "Not as well as I would have liked to."

Oooh plot-twist. Yeah, I wasn't too sure about this, but I figured that it's a pretty good bit of backstory. I do believe someone called this in like the fourth chapter of aCoB, so… nice one. It's why I don't usually reply to fan theories in reviews – because sometimes you post some theories where I think "damn… is it that obvious?" like with people saying there's something off about Aeron. On the other hand, I see some other theories and have no idea where they're coming from. It's brilliant, I love the idea you guys are all theorizing…

Also, just so you know, I've figured out how these stories end. I've planned out major deaths (which you won't see coming), I've planned out the betrayals, and most importantly, I've planned out who will sit on the Iron Throne at the end. It's the original idea that I had, and though I may change my mind on how we get there, who is alive at that point, and who rules the Seven Kingdoms is concrete.

So… enjoy wondering who that'll be. The next chapter will be up in several hours (just to give time to everyone to read this chapter). Also, check out chapter 9 – I noticed a lot of people haven't actually read that one…

Please leave a review! The next chapter is back in Braavos, and is named 'The Black Wolf'.