Authors note: Hello to all of you. I started this story, because I had a great idea and wanted to put it down "on paper" for all, who would like to read and follow it. Since the last couple of chapters my story had been met with a lot of criticism, and through I want to carry on with this story to the end, I don't know if, there is any one back, who will still is read on.

I have edited all of the chapters previous to this one. So I would recommend that all of my old followers go back and reread the story again. I promise you that I will be worth it for you. I hope to see this story rise up to the glory of so many of the others fan fictions on this site. Please see my seccond authors note in the end of the chapter for more info.

Onward to the chapter. As always I hope that you are going to like it.

Chapter 13

Domeric Bolton I

After six years away from the North in the Vale, where he had squired for the Lord of the Redfort, he was finally coming home. The Vale had its own kind of beauty, but it was truly nothing compared to the North. He could feel the cold nothern wind, the smell of sea, and the light summer snow under the horse. This was the North just as he had remembered it. He had been a few leagues away from his home the Dreadfort when his half-brothers messenger found him.

The messenger was only a short poor man on a poor skinny horse. A man, who looked more than a poor commoner than a knight, yet, the messenger was still dressed in mail and heavily armored from top to tow. A courtesy of his brother, he presumed.

"Lord Bolton. I am Ser Arran Waters, I come forth bearing a message from your brother." The messenger told him.

A bastard from the Riverlands when, Domeric concluded. In the Vale they had a saying. A bastard will always send another bastard to do his dealings, because no man of high birth will ever do the biddings of a bastard. It seemed like the Valemen there right at this point.

Domeric sighed and thought of the Dreadfort and how close he was to home. After all the time he had spent in the Redfort in the Vale, he truly just wished to go home. He was an anointed knight now and the true heir to his father's seat. Honor and duty forbad him to go visit his brother.

He clearly remembered his father's word all those years ago, when Domeric had first learned of his bastard brother.

"Your bastard of a brother is a sick and cruel boy. Believe me, my son, I will not allow you to be clouded and endangered by him". His father had make him swear an oath upon their family name that he would never seek out his brother.

Domeric had his doubts about his father's judgment on this matter, yet his dared not define the mighty Lord Bolton. Yet, he could not deny that he was curious to meet the bastard. Domeric had no true born siblings, and Ramsey was his only brother in blood and all but name.

He had taken the liberty to learn as much about his half-brother as possible over the years. Domeric had learned that the bastard's mother was some miller's wife, whom his father had raped and impregnated, while he was hunting along the Weeping Water. Here his bastard son, Ramsay had taken of resident so many years later.

Not much was known of his brother. Domeric only knew he had collected a little group of men and warriors, which he was the leader of. All in the group was bastards, outcasts and pretty criminals.

"What do my bastard brother wants off me?" He asked the messenger.

The messenger shivered and a cold went through him at the word bastard. Did Ramsey spread that kind of fear? Domeric knew that no man or women was ever allowed to call his brother a bastard.

The messenger looked him in the eyes. Domeric suddenly realized that the messenger did not shiver at the thought of his brother wrath. He shivered, because he himself was ashamed and humiliated of being a bastard. Domeric regretted his blunt words.

The messenger responded with a little more colder voice this time. "Your brother heard that you have returned home to the North after so many years. He would like to finally meet you".

Domeric thought about it for a while. Could he truly defy his oath to his father? He was going to Lord of all the Bolton lands someday. How much harm could it cause if he for once went his own way, and not followed the way his father had laid before him?

He came to a conclusion and gestured a hand to the road. "Very well Ser Arstan Waters. Lead the way for me."

Together the two of them turned their horses. In the back the road to the Dreadford was. In front of him was the road to the unknown family member, which he was finally going to meet after so many years.

Authors note: I know this was a bit shorter chapter than usually, but originally I had planned a much longer Bran chapter here. As I said in the first author note in the beginning of the chapter, the future of this story is very unclear.

So therefore, I made a short fill in chapter. It is up to you my readers to decide. I need your follows and reviews now more than ever. Are there still some out where that will continue reading or has the ship sunken completely?

If the story continues, and i really hope that it will, the next chapter will be a Bran chapter.

Stay safe out there to all of you. Hope that you will have a wonderful day.