Margaery Tyrell

Looking out the window of the Sept of Baylor she smiled as her maids perfumed her hair and rubbed rose oil on her skin.

Slowly, Cersei was losing her grip on Tommen. Her husband was young and weak. A skittish boy of four and ten, he needed someone to disciple him and Margaery was determined she'd be the one to do it.

Four years past she was exonerated by the Seven, cementing her as Cersei's primary enemy. Since, they had divided into two camps, plotting against the other, waiting with passive aggression for a moment of weakness, an opportunity to strike.

Years ago, she'd hoped for nothing more than to marry Renly and give him as many children as he and her grandmother pleased. Now, she'd all but forgotten such silly childhood fantasies and instead focused only on surviving. It was her or Cersei, one of them would have to go. And Margery had come too far to bow out now.

She'd be queen and control the Seven. Even if she had to crawl over Cersei's dead, blotted body to do so.

"That's enough," she instructed, waving the women away and out of her chamber as a knock sounded on the solar door.

Entering, Tommen nervously looked to the ground as Margaery's shift slipped from her shoulders. "You asked to see me?"

A mother's hold was a feat to compete with. But a wife's affections were impossible for a fourteen year old boy to deny. If Margery couldn't talk Cersei out of her husband's ears, she'd fuck her out. If she couldn't scare the Lannisters out of King's Landing, she'd breed them out.

"I'm ready to fulfill my wifely duties," she answered, sliding her shift over her hips, letting it pool on the floor.

Tommen looked up, his eyes bulging, face turning red. He'd been too young before and now too nervous to speak or move.

"Mi-I- Mi Lady-"

"Shh…" taking his hand, she placed it on her breast, nipping at her young husband's ear. "Let me be a good wife."

Leading the way, she took her innocent husband to bed for the first time and made sure he returned, each night after.

He was a sweet boy, too kind for his own good. Their relationship whether he was aware or not, was an exchange of services. He was a young, naive boy, looking for direction and she was an ambitious woman, willing to do anything to lead.

Jon/ Aegon/ Dany

(Months prior)

"I'm not going to the Wall."

"We agreed." Jon stood from the table, "This is what we came here for."

"No, you came here to seek your birth right. This is your birth right."

"This is not a game!" Slamming his fist on the table, he looked to Aegon for support.

"Jon, we have not received word of any changes from the Wall." He felt an instinctive pull to take Jon's side, even if it was counter intuitive to their plan.

"You know they are coming, Aegon. Do not be blinded by power."

"We will go to Dragonstone. From there we can mount an attack on the King's Landing."

"You never had any intention of protecting the Wall." Jon looked now to Aegon, "Are you so blinded by the idea of power, an idiot's crown, that you have forgotten what is coming?" His words stung. Although true, it was difficult to hear from his brother's mouth. He was a traitor. True at some point he did intend to help him in his quest to protect the Wall. But there were greater things at hand. This was their chance. The opportunity they had been waiting for. Why couldn't he understand that? They could still do both.

"What do you think will happen when we land at the Wall with our dragons and wait for your White Walkers? How long do you think it will take for Stannis to gather his forces or for the Lannisters to send troops? They would outnumber us ten to one before we could even gather an army." Daenerys calmly answered.

Placing his hand on Jon's shoulder, Aegon continued, "Jon. If they hear of dragons, where will they go? Who will they find first to use against you? What will happen to those at Storm's End? How will we get to them if we are at the Wall without an army?"

It was a low blow, but Aegon knew where to strike.

"What do you think the queen mother would do if she got her hands on Rickon, Sansa or Arya?"

"You can go to the Wall. See for yourself that they are not coming with an army. Then you will come to meet us." Dany reached across the table to her nephew.

In the months that the three of them had spent in each other's company, they had rapidly grown close. Aegon and Dany seemed to stand by each other, singular in thought. Like a brother and sister.

Jon, as always, was the outsider. He was hovering on the edge of their little group: unsure whether to join or perish alone.

Dany had met few men like Jon. Quiet, he seemed to be unmoving in his pursuit to uphold some oath that he had taken, before he knew the truth. He seemed to be a man of conviction impermeable to the lust for power.

"And if the situation has worsened, if they are breathing on the gates of the Wall?"

"Then we will come. There will be no Iron Throne if Westeros falls to darkness from beyond the Wall."

"We need to strike now. We have the element of surprise. The throne is weak. The realm doubts the boy King's true paternity. The royal forces are dwindling as Stannis raises an army, if he finds another ally. If we wait too long the fight will be impossible."

Sarcastically Jon retorted, "Stannis defeat the dragons? I thought they were immune to defeat."

"We cannot burn all of Westeros to take the throne. There will be nothing left," Daenerys coolly answered.

Arya and Sansa

Alone she sat in the field, facing east. Pulling at the grass, she split the blade into strands, throwing it to the wind.

"You've been here for some time."

Sitting beside her, Sansa continued, "You are unhappy- restless. You have been moody for months."

Arya didn't answer, only reached for another blade of grass.

"Is it so horrible here? Is this place such a prison?"

Grabbing her hand, Sansa stopped her, "I wish you did not feel so. I have news for you."

"Yes and what is that?"

"I'll have a child. I wanted you to be the first to know."

Arya couldn't say that she was surprised. This is what happened when two people married and shared a bed. She had known it was coming at some point.

She didn't want to be part of this moment. Arya didn't want to stand by and watch others settle into happiness, while she still chocked on emptiness. Her mind drifted for moments trying to think of the last time she didn't feel empty. If she ever believed she could be like Sansa.

"I know."

"You know what?"

"I know of your affections for one another."

Arya didn't answer. She wouldn't deny that she had great affection for Gendry. She always would. He was part of the last piece of childhood she had. He made up some of her last memories of innocence.

"I see the way he looks at you. I see the way you avoid him, mayhaps that cannot be helped. However, I ask that you do not sleep with my husband. You may both love-"

"I do not love Gendry. I do not love."

"You love… you love your family," Sansa stopped and thought on this. Did Arya love them? She honestly didn't know. In the past four months she was so distant and cold. She treated them as if they were strangers holding her captive.

"You love Jon."

"Stay with Jon. Stay with Jon." Her mind repeated the chant that haunted her. The one thing she felt she was supposed to always do. The only thing she was sure of and she had failed.

Finally, she answered, "Why love when everything goes? Nothing good can stay."

Sansa touched her stomach, "You've let bitterness take your joy. There is still good in this world."

Sansa had always been naïve and always would be, no matter the circumstance or what she'd seen. Arya envied this. Sansa was impermeable to desolation. She would always believe that honorable men stayed honorable. Good prevailed over evil. A prince would come to her rescue and that happiness could someday be lasting.

She felt as though she was sinking slowly into darkness. She had been for years: the vast emptiness taking her piece by piece. But lately she was no longer sinking. Now drowning, her head struggled to stay above water. If she didn't move soon it would take her completely and she'd be too numb to care.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm riding to Winterfell."

Sansa and Gendry

She knocked briefly on the doors of his chamber.

"Come in."

Entering the room, she found him perched at the window. "Is something wrong?"Gendry rose from his seat, concern on his face.

"No. I wanted to speak with you."She pointed to a chair, "Sit please."

"What has happened?"

"Nothing. I was hoping you would come to my chambers but you have not for some time."

Gendry looked down, his face almost reddening with guilt. "I have been busy."

Lies. Lies. Lies. Sansa's sensibility sang. "You've been busy thinking of her," she wanted to say, but wouldn't.

"I'll have a child." She blurted it out before the other things darting around in her mind fell out of her mouth, ruining the moment.

Gendry looked up now, surprised. Why was he surprised? Isn't that what happened when you lie with a woman? Is that not what was expected of them?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She smiled and he could clearly see that she was happy and would expect him to feel the same.

"That's wonderful."

Stooping, he kissed the top of her head.

"I know about you two." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"What?"

"I know about your feelings for Arya…"

Gendry had worried that someday this moment would come, that they would be forced to have this conversation. Had Arya said something? Had he given it away? He had tried to keep his distance, since arriving home three months prior. He had thought he was careful with his glances, sparing with his words.

"I can see it in your face every time she enters the room and I do not care. I do care, however, that you do not make a fool of me."

"What?" Gendry was still taken back from her original admission.

"You do not have to love me. If you wish to take other women, I cannot stop you. I ask though, that you do not take-"she faltered now. Sansa had been brave to this point and attempted to stay unemotional, but suddenly her words had finally caught up to her mind.

"D-do not lay with her."

How was Gendry supposed to answer this? Deny his feelings for Arya? Deny that he loved her? That he missed her still? Lie about the fact that he did change every time she entered a room? Could he deny that he had to fight the urge to crawl to her chambers every night, slip in and lie on the floor next to her bed, that he dempt of her still?

"I would not."

Sansa seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, "We could be happy. Maybe with Arya leaving for awhile, we could work-"

"Arya is leaving?"

"She is returning to Winterfell."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Sansa, she cannot ride alone on the road. It's dangerous. She could be killed."

"Do you think I do not know this? She will not listen-"

Before Sansa could finish, Gendry was gone, heading for Arya's chambers. When he reached the door, he pounded for seconds with no response.

"Arya, I know you are in there. You cannot do this. You cannot ride to Winterfell. It is not safe. If you wish to leave…"

He pushed the door open to find an empty room.

Asha

"They are coming!"

Screams seemed to reverberate throughout stone walls. People ran everywhere like ants scrambling from dirt hill.

"The men are armed, My Lady."

"Do not call me that." Rising from her seat, Asha looked out the window. Huge beasts circling the skies as an army approached.

"Saddle a horse."

"Lady Baratheon…?"

She looked to the guard, "Asha Greyjoy. Saddle a horse I will ride to meet them- alone."

Dany and Asha

The beasts were the size of ships. Landing in the field outside the gates, smoke billowed from their mouths. Dismounting one, a woman, tiny in stature with long white hair approached, drawing her weapon.

Dismounting herself, Asha approached the woman alone.

"Do you come to fight?"

Asha stood unarmed, as she replied, "No. I come to negotiate."

"Who are you to negotiate?"

"Lady Baratheon," Asha said with clear disgust.

Deanery's looked amused, "Why should I negotiate, when I can clearly take what I want?"

"Because I will give you something else."

"And what is that?"

"You can have Dragonstone. We will not fight. The men will stand down. Also, ships from the Iron Islands and men. Something Stannis Baratheon won't have when he comes to take the Iron Throne from you."

Dany cocked an eyebrow, "Yes and what would you like in return?"

"Two things: kill my twat of a brother and sever my dear husband's head from his body."

Asha was no one's fool. She didn't need the Dragon woman. She didn't need anyone. But what she did need was time, time to figure out how she could kill both her brother, husband and any other enemy who would stand in her way.

Arya

The men could see the figure approaching on horse, staggering through the icy wind.

"Who approaches?" They called into the wind and snow, drawing their weapons.

The figure continued toward them without word. When the horse finally slowed the man grabbed for the reins. His hand pricked metal and drops of blood fell to white beneath his feet.

"Don't touch what is not yours."

Sliding from the saddle, she moved to uncover furs from her face.

"A wildling whore?"

His eyes gleamed at the prospect, his tongue smacking against his yellow teeth.

"Take me to your commander."

"Feisty one, aren't you?" The two men circled her like starved dogs in a pack.

When the one who spoke, lunged for her, she ducked taking him from behind, a knife to his throat.

"Should we continue to play this game?"

The man wheezed as the blade pressed against him.

"Take me."

The other man led her into Castle Black. Opening the door he motioned for her to enter. Still holding her prisoner, she shook her head, "You first."

Following him through, over five hundred men peered up from their meals, mouths full. Their faces shocked, angered, then sneering. Names were called from the crowd and lewd suggestions made. Pulling the man in tighter as a shield, she yelled, "Where is your commander?"

Allister Thorne stood in the back of the massive hall, "I am here. And who are you?"

"Where is Jon Snow?"

"Knee deep in tits and wine… if not dead for deserting. Who are you?"

Arya looked about the room into the faces of a five hundred men and saw one thing: lust, angry, lonely, desperate, ravenous lust. The lamb had wandered into the lion's den without a plan.

"Your name!"

"Arya Stark."

"Stark? Does you lord brother know you are here?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Release the man."

Arya tightened her grip, "No."

"Look around woman. There is one of you and many of us."

"You will not hurt me."

"Will we not? Who would know? Who would stop us? Your lame lord brother, who does not know you are here? Jon Snow? Release him."

"I'll take my chances."

A few men stood in challenge and others, maybe one, to her aide.

"You'll not leave alive, woman."

Arya was running out of options. Amongst men that were thieves, criminals and without the company of a woman for years, she knew that a vow of chastity was unlikely to hold them.

"Let me join."

"Women do not take the black."

"And why is that?"

"We have no use for whores. You would be easily killed, if not by us, than out there."

"If I proved myself?"

This made the commander laugh, "The only way you will be useful is on your back."

"Or on your knees," another suggested.

"You are weak, female and have never killed."

Arya could feel her dodgy captive. His brave hands reached back, trying to feel her through her layers. He was now confident that he would live and possibly have her first.

Without thinking she slit his throat, his choking corpse hitting the ground in front of her.

"You were saying?"

The commander moved through the men toward her, "You killed an innocent man."

"He would have raped me if given the opportunity." She noted emotionlessly.

Those already standing moved towards her, but were short of the commander who got there first. Falling back into a few men behind, she was trapped. With his knife at her throat, he breathed, "You wish to stay unharmed. It will not happen. You wish to leave unharmed. You will not."

He went to grope at her.

"Should I tell you what happened to the last man that tried to rape me?"

She looked down to the dead man still at her feet and then he felt the blade against his stomach.

"Try it woman and you'll be dead."

"I already am."

Amused he stepped back, "I will give you two options for your punishment. We are an honorable group after all." The men in the crowd snickered.

"You will stay and service the men of the Watch. Maybe live a few more days in warmth on your back..."

"Or?"

"Die a cold, painful death, alone in darkness."

"The later."

He smiled, "So it will be. Take her."

Arya was overwhelmed by the men grabbing at her.

"No man will fuck her. She belongs to them now. We keep our oath today men."

Samwell

Word of a woman at Castle Black spread like wild fire, making its way back to Samwell in the infirmary.

"Allister sent her beyond the Wall. She killed-"

The man didn't even have time to finish his thought. The mortar and pestle shattered against eh stone floors, powder erupting in a white cloud. Pushing past the confused man, Sam rushed from the room to find Allister. Arya Stark had come to the wall and now had been banished into the abyss. He had to stop them. If he didn't she'd surely die out there.

Wheezing, his chubby legs moved as fast as they could but he was too late. By the time he'd reached Allister and demanded an explanation she was already gone.

"The little bitch killed Donos."

"She's Arya Stark. She's a Lady," he sputtered. "She's Lord Snow's sister."

"Jon Snow is a deserter and coward, his sister a murderess and whore. Let him show his face here again to defend her honor and he'll be hanging from the tower walls."

Arya

They groped her one last time, before pushing her forward on her knees, the gates closing behind her.

Staring out into the great white emptiness, Arya began to walk. She would need to find food and shelter.

(5 days later)

Huddled in a ball, she had dug herself a tunnel in the half frozen snow. Her breath melted small drops of water from the edge of the opening where she lay. Shaking, her stomach growled.

Maybe she should have chosen the first. No. It was better to die with pride, frozen, starved, but with pride. Left with no supplies, only her sword and a flint stone, she would not last another day. She would search again tomorrow for food or die the next night.

When her eyes closed from hunger, cold and exhaustion, she was half aware that they may never open again.

Then she heard the crunching of snow. Someone was there! "Anyone!" she thought.

Slowly she pulled her body up, peaking out her tunnel. She thought at first she was mistaken. But as it spotted her, she was sure she wasn't. It was as if she were having a nightmare.

It was twice her size. Its hands looked like claws. Its milky white skin glowed in the fading light. Its chest looked battered. Barely clothed, she could see its muscles contract, but it did not breathe. It was dead.

"White Walker!" her mind screamed.

Scrambling from her hole, she tried to raise her sword but it was already on her. Its hands clawed at her throat, its mouth snapping at her face as she tried to fight.

She could feel blood pouring from its nails on her neck. Black dots were appearing before her eyes. With her mind shutting down, she considered giving up.

"Let it have you. Be done with it," her subconscious whispered. But then she heard another voice from long ago, calling her back, "Not Today."

Her arms felt like they weighed more than her body as she reached out striking at the monster. Swinging at its arm, she landed a blow, hearing a crack. It released its grip momentarily and she stumbled back gasping for air.

Its arm should be broken, if not partially severed. But there was not blood. The Other looked at her, unharmed and undeterred. Coming at her again, the struggle resumed.

After minutes it had her on the ground, again snapping at her face. In a last desperate move Arya thrust her sword upward with all her strength, her arms shaking. The blade drove through the beast's neck. Not taking a chance, she moved it to the side, severing the head from the body. Bloodless, it rolled to the ground.

Horrified she looked up to find the body still standing, looking for her. In haste she picked up the head and began running. She ran like she was on fire. Its hideous face tucked under her arm.

BAM BAM BAM

10 seconds pass

BAM BAM BAM

The watch men had seen it approaching. The body had been crawling toward the Wall's gate for hours.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

"I don'ts know."

Huddled against gate, Arya had crawled the last five hundred yards. Her hands were blocks of ice. One eye was swollen shut and from her face and neck hung small dried blood icicles.

Gathering herself to her knees she braced one hand on the door and with the other she grabbed the head by the hair. Swinging it, she banged the skull against the large doors- the bones cracking on impact.

For a long time she sat like that, swinging the skull in rhythm as bones crunched with each swing. After some time, her pace slowed: her resolve dying. She had killed the White Walker or at least taken its head. And now she would die against the gates of the Wall.

Maybe this was for the best. She was dead anyhow. If they left her, she'd die of cold and hunger. If they let her in, they'd strip her, spread her and let every man in the Watch fuck her till she bled to death.

With her head on the ground, the skull, still in hand, dropped next to her face. She'd die looking at this now mangled thing.

When her eye finally closed she heard a voice calling her in the distance, "Arya… Arya…."

"Father?" she whispered. She could hear him now. He was coming for her. In that moment she finally accepted death. "Yes. Today," were her last conscious thoughts.

When the gate opened, the men looked down to the huddled mess. "Oh bloody hell. What the fuck is that?"