It was the day of the final hunt. Just about all the men at Winterfelll were already saddled, but Domeric had yet to leave his chamber.

"But Domeric," protested Bran. "You promised to play with me."

Damn. He had forgotten about that. Bran had a small collection of wooded knights, all painted different colors. There was a blue knight, a red knight, a knight that was both blue and red, an orange, a black, and a green. Some times, Bran liked to pretend that the red knight was battling a great beast, whose part was commonly filled by Bran's dire wolf, who had yet to be named.

"What of Arya?" Domeric asked from his place on his bed as he pulled on his second boot. "Or your Mother, or Sansa? I'm sure they could play with you."

Bran kicked the floor. "Sansa doesn't like playing with me anymore, she only likes the prince. Mother's busy all the time. And Arya, Arya doesn't do the voices right."

It was true. The first time Domeric had played with Bran and his knights, they had decided on specific voices and characters for each one. The orange knight talked smoothly and acted as if he knew just about everything. The red knight was proud and gave a sinister laugh after every sentence he spoke. The green was showy, but always had a trick up his sleeve, while the blue and red was honorable, but acted hastily.

Domeric slid of his mattress and lowered himself to Bran's level. "How 'bout we play tonight? I know you were looking forward to it, but you and I will be spending a lot of time together in King's Landing. Remember? I'll be overseeing your training until you're old enough to squire." That got a small smile from the boy. "I'm sure there's something else you could do?"

Bran looked thoughtful. "I can find something."

Domeric ruffled the boy's hair. "Then I shall see you tonight."

Bran nodded. Then, with his wolf by his side, he ran out the door to do whatever it was he had thought of doing.

With his cloak fastened and his gloves on, Domeric left his chamber. It was outside the stables where he met with Jon and Theon.

"Where's Robb?" Domeric asked as he climbed up onto Balthasar.

"Firstborn sons are riding with their fathers," explained Jon.

"Meaning," said Theon. "Robb and Prince Joffrey will be spending a bit of time together, as King Robert and Lord Stark will be heading the hunt."

Domeric laughed. "Robb's gonna kill the Prince." But it seemed he joked too loudly, as a stableboy now looked at him, face as white as a ghost.

"And what are you looking at?" Theon questioned. "Get back to work." The boy looked frozen. "You deaf, or just stupid? Get back to shoveling shit. Now!"

The stableboy grabbed his shovel and ran off to another part of the stables. He fell flat on his face, twice. Theon laughed both times.

"You'll going to be a wonderful father," Said Domeric.

Theon shrugged. "No children for me. Give me a castle, a bitch or twelve for my bed, and I'll die happy."

The loud, echoing sound from the horn blower signaled that it was time to begin the hunt. All the riders pulled their horses around and formed a column with a width of two horses. King Robert and Lord Stark were at the front, while Prince Joffrey and Robb followed their respected fathers.

They rode through the Hunter's gate, which opened to the vast northern fields and dense woods. When they had traveled just under a mile from the castle walls, where they bordered a wood, the hounds were released. They barked and spat and, once catching a scent, raced off together. The hunting party followed.

As the party came to a clearing, the hounds went one way, but Ghost, sniffing the air and lowering his head, went another. "Ghost," Jon had called. "Ghost, to me!" But The white wolf was already gone. Jon pulled away from the group and raced after him.

Domeric pulled Balthasar to a halt and yelled Jon's name. But it was no use. Domeric looked to the party, Lord Stark and Robb were gone, as was Theon. He looked back to where Jon had ridden off to, then a second time to the hunting party. As he saw the last rider disappear deep into the Forrest, Domeric pulled Balthasar around. Racing after Jon he muttered, "Dammit Snow."

The woods got thicker as he went. Branches reached out at him like a hag's twisted hands. Then he came to a trail. The dirt showed hoof prints, so he followed them.

Domeric couldn't remember seeing this trail before. Of course, he doubted he had ever come so deep into this Forrest, or an Forrest, before. Still, a path had to lead somewhere. It couldn't belong to a Keep or a village, not without him knowing of it. Maybe it's recently blazed, he thought as he and Balthasar made their way slowly.

Domeric must have traveled down the trail near an hour by the time he came to a spot where the path split in two directions. But strangely, Jon's horse was here, tied to a tree.

Domeric climbed down from his own mount and approached Jon's. "Hello there," he said as he pet her nose. "Where be Jon, hmm?"

"Domeric!"

Domeric turned and breathed a sigh of relief as Jon climbed out of the woods and into the path. Ghost was at his side, mouth red with blood.

"Snow," Said Domeric, pulling Jon into a hug. "You're an idiot."

Jon, at first surprised by the contact, returned the embrace. "What's with this?"

Domeric released his friend. "Thought you were dead, that's what's with this," he said with a smirk.

Jon rolled his eyes. "So, are we gonna find our way out of here, or just hug? Because I cannot say I'm overly fond of hugging boys."

Domeric climbed back up on Balthasar. With a chuckle he said, "Well, never seen you hug a girl either. Just don't let Jasper talk you into going to a brothel when you're in the Vale, he thinks you need at least three women at a time to have fun."

"I won't be visiting any brothels anyways." Jon shrugged from up on his mount. "Though he does sound interesting. Jasper is the eldest, no?"

They left their spot and went in a slow trot.

"Aye," Said Domeric. "He's nineteen now, and a knight as well. Then there's Mychel, who's seventeen, but he's still squiring in the Eyrie, last I heard. Then Creighton is the youngest. His Fourteenth nameday was two months ago."

Jon nodded. "Do you, do you wish to speak of it?"

"Of Creighton Redfort's nameday?"

"No. Of that other thing."

"And what would that other thing be?"

"That kitchen maid that disappeared. I know you were sweet on her."

Gwin. She had disappeared after leaving his chamber. Disappeared the same night that his father's men had visited. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew there was a connection. He wasn't a fool. But what that connection was, he couldn't figure out.

Truthfully, Domeric wished he could speak of it to Jon. But he couldn't. He was to wed Jon's sister. Domeric couldn't speak of how he had bedded another. Jon would hate him for it. And if it had gotten back to Arya, Domeric wouldn't be able to bare the shame it would cause the girl.

"I think not. She was just some servant. It was foolish to even allow any feelings for her... And an embarrassment, I'm sure."

Jon was silent on the matter. He agreed, no doubt.

"This isn't right," Said Domeric.

And it wasn't. The trees that they now passed seemed darker than they had before. And now the branches reached so far that both walls of trees, which bordered the path, knitted together in the middle, creating a roof of sorts above them and blocking out the clear sky.

Jon looked around. "I don't like this... I feel, I feel... odd."

Ghost was low to the ground and looked to almost cower. Domeric had never seen the dire wolf do that before.

"Look," Said Domeric, pointing to the ground. "It's flat. There... there aren't any tracks."

"What?"

"When I came after you, your horse left heavy prints... but there aren't any now."

Jon looked unnerved. "Maybe we've gone by where you came onto the path..."

"No. I would have noticed..." Domeric shook his head. "You're probably right."

Jon scratched his neck. "Why don't we keep following the path? It must lead back to Winterfell... Or at least out of the woods."

Domeric nodded. "A plan as good as any."

Following the path proved to not be as good of a plan as previously thought. It was dark and silent, only naked trees grew around them. It must have been hours since they had even first happened upon the trail.

"Damn," said Jon. "I thought we would be out by now..."

"As did I- Jon!"

Jon halted his horse. "What?"

"Look!"

Ahead was the path's end, and beyond that was a small hut. It looked ancient and was surrounded by the deadest of trees.

Jon squinted. "Small folk?"

"It must be." Domeric dismounted and began to tie Balthasar to a tree. "Come, let us see if anyone is home."

Jon climbed down as well. "I don't know about this. What if they don't want company?"

"This is your father's land. Whoever is in there won't lay a finger on us."

Jon nodded at that and the two approached the hovel. Now it looked even smaller than it had before.

"Well," Said Domeric.

"Well what?"

"Well, are you not going to knock or aren't you? It is only polite."

Jon crossed his arms. "Why don't you knock?"

Domeric sighed. "Fine."

Two knocks was all it took. The door creaked open and on the other side was a beautiful woman with black hair and bright blue eyes. She only wore what looked to be a nightgown, yet she didn't look the least bit cold. Her face was hard, but then it softened.

She smiled a strange smile. "My sweets, come in come in. It's far too cold to be out."

Before Domeric knew what he was doing, he found that both he and Jon were inside the hovel, the door shut behind them. From the low ceiling hung weeds and flowers. A fire was in the floor's center, just below a small opening in the roof. Strange smells that Domeric couldn't put a name to filled the place, while a small, straw filled mattress was in the corner.

The woman put an arm around each of them. "What are two pretty boys doing out today? If I was your mother, I'd take you both over my knee." Her hands traveled down and gave both Domeric and Jon a pat.

He knew he shouldn't tell the woman anything, but Domeric couldn't help himself. "We were hunting."

Jon seemed to suffer from the same problem. "We got lost in the woods. We're trying to get back to the party."

The woman lead them over to her bed, then sat down on it, while they remained standing. "Oh, so you boys do have a mother..."

"Well..." Domeric looked to Jon.

Jon frowned. "Our mothers are dead."

"Oh?" The woman smiled. "Well, I have no sons..."

"Right," Said Domeric awkwardly. Something was wrong. "Please except our condolences."

"We really must be going," Said Jon, feeling the same as Domeric.

As the two turned to leave, the woman grabbed hold of them. "Oh, but you cannot leave. For you see, I can see what has yet to be seen."

"You're a witch?" Asked Domeric, brows furrowed.

The woman smiled. "Yessss. A woods witch, and I can see what is to come, my sweet."

That caught Domeric's attention. "Then what is to become of me?"

Without warning, the woman took hold of his face and placed her lips on his own. Then, Domeric felt the woman's tongue slither into his mouth. Within a flash, the kiss was broken.

The woman licked her lips and took Domeric's hands. "You, my sweet," She said in dry voice, eyes glazing over, "shall marry. Yes, I see it. It is most clear. A wedding feast and a bedding. Oh, and a bride that is all that you desire." Then her eyes returned to normal.

Will this bride be Arya? He wanted to ask, but it was too late.

"Come sweetling," She said to Jon, pressing her lips to his. When she pulled away, the woman rasped, "I see a crown... a bloody crown... a crown of paper and ink."

Jon swallowed. "And what does that mean?"

She smiled and sat back down on her bed. "It means, sweetling, what it means. What it means for now, anyways. Futures change. Change easier than day and night." She waved her hand. "For instance, I can change both your futures..."

"Meaning?" Asked Domeric.

"Meaning, my sweet, you will stay here, with me. Your new mother."

Jon snorted. "Mother?"

"Yes, sweetling?"

Domeric shook his head. "This is madness... Look, we really must be going."

Blue eyes were on him. "Madness? No... no." Then, her voice morphed into one husky and queer as she said, "Not madness. The gods stole away Mother's sons... Mother knows how to get more sons."

With that, the woman dropped her robe and beneath was nothing but her nakedness. She was hairless and soft and shapely. Domeric felt drawn to her then. But it wasn't because of her body, there was something about her. It made him feel like a dog on a leash, being pulled somewhere.

She took both boys by the hand. "Come, sleeep," She said, pushing them down onto the bed. Then she sprawled herself over them.

Domeric felt as if he was chained in his spot as. Mother crawled onto him completely, her breasts pressed against his chest. She tightly wrapped her legs around one of Domeric's, her wet sex could be felt on his leg through his breeches. Then she kissed him.

"Ah," She said after finishing. "Mother is changing my sweet's future."

She then straddled Jon and pressed her lips to his. But Jon wrapped his arms around the woman and soon he was the one on top. Then theirs lips broke and Jon began to kiss her neck. They began to move together.

Mother is changing my sweet's future. No, he thought. I'll take my future how it is.

Domeric jumped from the bed and drew his sword. "Jon! Jon, snapped out of it!"

Then Ghost began to howl from outside. Hearing his wolf, Jon pulled up from Mother. "Ghost?"

But Mother did not remain beautiful. Face wrinkling and eyes darkening, she melted into a hideous hag with long black nails and a curved beak for a nose. She let out an ear shattering screech.

Domeric pulled a screaming Jon from the bed. "What are you?"

"Mother is what my sweet said." It grinned toothlessly as it stood before them, measuring a height of four feet hunched over. And then, flat breasts dangling like empty coin purses from a hook, its black pit eyes seemed to twitch as it screamed, "A witch!"

The hag leapt at them, cackling madly. Domeric swung his sword. The hag screamed and crumpled to the dirt floor as its gray hand fell from its wrist, from which blood sprayed. She tossed her head back and howled, spit flying from her mouth. But then the blood seemed to stop and she climbed to her feet.

"This is why we don't bed strange women," Said Domeric, sword still pointed at the hag.

"Window!" Shouted Jon, nearly dragging Domeric to the other side of the hovel.

Once there, Domeric slashed at the shutters until they were splinters. Jon climbed out first and Domeric followed. But as Domeric was half way out, a hand wrapped around his ankle.

He screamed, "Jon!"

"Domeric!" Jon grabbed his hands and pulled.

Gods be blessed, Jon proved stronger than the one handed witch, as Domeric found himself tasting dirt. Unfortunately, it had been dragged out as well.

Jon grabbed Domeric's sword and held it at the hag's wrinkled throat. "Stay where you are!"

The hag grinned. "Why do all my sweets die here...?"

Domeric looked around. They were in a garden, a garden of death. Corpses of men of all ages surrounded them. Some were bones, while others still had fresh.

"Jon..." said Domeric.

Jon didn't take his eyes from the witch. "What is it?"

Many of the dead gripped swords in their hands, and they were still stained bloody. "I don't think that sword will help much."

The hag cackled. "I do so love my sweets!" With that, she leapt at Jon.

But from out of nowhere, Ghost tackled the witch. His teeth clamped down on her neck and began to rip it apart. Blood sprayed everywhere. The hag screamed and screamed. Spit and blood, it was everywhere.

It was only when the final scream left the hag's crack lips when Domeric allowed himself to breath. Ghost's white fur was dyed red and thin, stringy ribbons clung to his mouth. The hag changed then, its skin softened and seemed to become younger. Its breasts became plump and full, its eyes became bright and blue. Before long, it was the young woman they had met before.

"Wha-... How?"

"Magic is a twisted thing," Said Domeric.

"We need to get Lord Stark," Said Jon frantically. "He'll know what to do."

"Aye," Said Domeric. "He'll know to send us to the wall."

"What are you talking about?"

"We've killed a woman. Sure, Lord Stark will believe us. But there is little proof of our innocence if we bring a woman's corpse home with us. We leave the witch here. We never speak of this again."

Jon looked to protest, but then he bit his lip. "Agreed."

Domeric took a final look at the naked witch. "Come, we need to find our way home before dark."

No words were traded as they mounted their horses. It wasn't until the hovel was far, far away when and near an hour had passed until Jon spoke.

"I've never kissed a girl."

"I wouldn't consider... I wouldn't consider what had happened to be your first."

Jon nodded. "It never happened, right?"

But it did happen. And we've left a corpse behind. He almost brought up the so called prophesies, but he decided against it. "Right."

"Look," Said Jon.

Domeric looked to where Jon was pointing. Stuck in a branch was a ripped piece of fabric.

Jon examined it. "It's from my cloak." He smiled. "This is where I crossed over."

Suddenly, Ghost sniffed the air. Then, he raced off into the woods.

"Ghost!" Shouted Jon.

"I think he's found the way," Said Domeric merrily.

Ghost did in fact find the way. The wolf lead them out of the woods and into the fields. But by the time they came within distance of Winterfell, the sky had darkened. It was near time for sup.

Domeric's stomach growled. "I hope they caught something."

"Me too," Said Jon. "But I don't much care what I eat at this point."

Domeric looked across the field. "Is that... King Robert."

It was. King Robert lead the pack, but only half the hunters were there. Domeric couldn't see a single Stark banner.

Once Domeric and Jon had entered through the gates, they approached King Robert, who had beat them to the castle. They both bowed to the King.

"Ah," Said King Robert from up on his mount. "You're Ned's bastard, aren't you?"

"Yes, your grace."

"And you're Bolton's spawn, no?"

"I am, your grace."

The King chuckled. "From what I hear, I'll be your... uncle? No, no. You'll be Joff's good brother... As will you Snow, come to think of it. So if you two are Joffrey's brothers... Damn, I got me two more sons!"

There was much laughter from the King's entourage.

"Your Grace," said Jon. "If I may, what has happened to Lord Stark?"

"Eh?" Said King Robert. "Oh. Oh, yes. Ned was worried about you two. He was about to send a search party out, but then that rider came." The King sighed. "Sorry to tell you so, lads. But Lord Stark and his men were called back a few hours ago. You see, the young boy-"

Jon swallowed. "Rickon?"

"No, no. The other one."

Domeric's heart stopped. "Bran."

"Aye, Bran. He was climbing, it seems. Took a terrible fall."

I'm sure you can find something else to do. The words echoed back in his head.

So I know the whole hag thing was wicked random. But, I needed to include something else in the chapter because the original was too short. And I was always a fan of Hansel and Gretel... So yeah.

Also, I know there is a fourth Redfort son, but his name is Jon. And I thought two Jons would be confusing.

Thanks for keeping up with the story