A/N: Some new, newey, newness for you guys!

Tarias: Hope you manage to get back into your account but thanks for reviewing anyway! Thank you, and yes, I know I'm mean I am sooo aware of it haha. Hopefully this will make up for my meaness, although ... I may just leave you with a whole new set of cliffies ... ;)

SLP: I'm not sure Stannis knows the meaning of the word! He won't be making many friends this way as you can probably imagine.

Anyway, to the chapter guys! Fair bit of action in this one so hope you all enjoy!

:)

Escapes

Winterfell

Robb slammed his fists hard on the table and Catelyn jumped slightly, the others sat at the high table turning to look at him curiously and Maester Luwin in front of him looking concerned. He took a breath then and tried to make sense of the words he had just read. He couldn't stand the feeling of everyone's eyes on him though and so he stood up abruptly from the table.

"Mother," he said, his voice calmer than he had expected it to be and she stood up; "Dany," he added and she too stood, a look of confusion on her face.

He said nothing to either of them as he strode from the hall, hearing their footsteps following him in the silence of the room. The eyes of everyone were on them but he focused on nothing but the open door, turning sharply when he walked through it and pounding down the hallways towards his father's study. Once inside he turned and waited until his mother had closed the door before he spoke.

"I have word of father," he said and her heart instantly dropped.

"Why do I get the feeling it is not good news?" she asked him quietly.

"He has been imprisoned," Robb almost spat and she stared at him.

"Why?" she whispered, "Ned would never do anything to warrant being arrested … this is a Lannister plot I just know it!"

"He's not at the Capitol, he has been imprisoned at Dragonstone by Stannis Baratheon who has named the Baratheon children bastards of incest and himself the true King," Robb told her.

"But … if Ned is at Dragonstone then surely it was him who told Stannis … why would Stannis imprison him, surely he would need the North to raise its banners for him?" Catelyn frowned, none of this was making any sense to her.

"Stannis will let him go if we hand over Dany," Robb said, feeling sick, and his mother's eyes widened in understanding.

Dany stared at him as well, suddenly realising why Robb had called for her to come along as well. It was not hard to imagine why Stannis Baratheon would want her handed over, she was probably considered a threat by him and he would want her out of the way. She felt awful that Lord Stark who had been so good to her all these years had been imprisoned because of her. No doubt it would have been difficult for him to escape the Capitol and now he had been taken prisoner to ensure that the threat from her house was gone. She thought of her brother across the Narrow Sea then and suddenly wished that they had been able to smuggle her away with him all those years ago. If they had managed it then she would not be causing the Stark's all this pain now.

"I will go," she said then.

"What?!" Robb snapped at her.

"I will go to Dragonstone if it will mean Lord Stark is freed," she said.

"You will not," he snarled at her, unable to believe she would even suggest it.

"Robb …" she started.

"You're not going Dany," Catelyn spoke across her then before she could continue.

"But … Lady Stark," she started again.

"Ned would have said no," Catelyn said certainly, "doubtless that's why he's been imprisoned – he wouldn't give you up and neither will we"

"We'll free my father another way," Robb said.

"Will you call the banners?" his mother asked him grimly and he nodded.

"It doesn't look like I have much choice," he said heavily and it was her turn to nod at him.

Dragonstone

Davos surveyed the scene in front of him, he could scarce believe what he was seeing as he watched the chanting hoards gather around the effigies of the Seven. Burning Gods. Seven hells, when had it come to this? That woman was stood there in the midst of them with her red robes flapping around her in the strong winds. He could taste the salt on his tongue as the spray of the sea was blown up around them. Some of the Queen's men were stepping forwards then with torches in their hands, all of them chanting to their Lord of Light. This was so wrong. How could Stannis stand by and allow this madness to happen? He thought this red priestess had power, had the power to make him King. Davos didn't care for magic, he didn't trust magic. Stannis didn't need some unnatural forces to make him King, he needed an army – an army he would already have if he hadn't foolishly chained Lord Stark up in the prison.

Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. He remembered so clearly pledging himself to his wife before those Gods. He remembered resting on his knees in front of their images in the sept whenever he had had need to pray. He remembered resting on his knees and conjuring up their images in his own home each time his wife had been bringing another one of their children into the world. These Gods were the Gods of Westeros, the Gods that the people worshipped – those that were not Northmen anyway. If this red woman was burning effigies how long would it be before she began burning Septon's of the faith? And how long after that before she burned anyone who worshipped the Seven?

As the torches were lowered to the wooden effigies he made up his mind. Stannis had been bewitched and he needed to do something to snap him out of it. To lift the spell. As the flames took hold and the columns of smoke stretched higher into the blackness of the night sky he resolved himself. He had to save Stannis. Making an attempt on her life would only be the end of his own. Perhaps this action would be too but at least he could go to the Gods knowing that he had done the right thing. He turned then, no one would notice his absence now, everyone's eyes were firmly fixed on the seven raging pyres, their chanting growing louder and louder as he made his way up the beach.

He could still hear them when he reached the docks although it was more a faint whisper on the wind. It still sent shivers up his spine though as he hurried towards where his son's ship was moored, thanking the Gods when it loomed out of the darkness. He had half expected his boy to be gone by now. His destination was White Harbour and that was just the stroke of luck that Davos had been waiting for.

"Dale!" he called out for his son.

"Aye father," he appeared after a moment, "we're off soon, what is it?"

"Hold off a while longer … there's some more cargo to come," Davos said and his boy frowned.

"She's full," Dale said.

"It'll not take much room," Davos implored him and his son sighed.

"I'll hold off till you return," he promised.

Davos nodded his thanks then before turning and heading back along the docks, his eyes searching for the concealed back entrance to the prison. He already had the keys, Stannis had entrusted him with a set many years ago. The thought of betraying that trust did not sit easily with Davos but this was the right thing to do. Lord Stark was a good man, perhaps even good enough to one day forgive Stannis for his misdemeanours and fight for him. He was the rightful King after all, Lord Stark had acknowledged that, perhaps with Melisandre gone he would consider raising his banners for Stannis again. He turned the key in the lock then, looking from side to side to make sure that no one was around. The docks were mostly deserted, almost everyone on Dragonstone was down at the beach. The only other people beside his son and his crew had already raised their own anchor and had sailed away from the shore.

He closed the gate to, holding his breath and praying that it wouldn't creak before he padded softly down the stony tunnel that led to the cells. There was not a sound to be heard and Davos imagined that the prison guards were likely in their warm barracks at the top end of the prison. Thankfully Lord Stark was placed in one of the lower cells and Davos could see the glow of his lantern as he approached him almost silently. Quiet as he was the man heard him and turned his head in surprise when he reached the cell. Davos pressed his finger to his lips and Lord Stark nodded his understanding before Davos began examining the keys for the right one. When he found it he slid it into the lock and turned it before he could change his mind. This is the right thing, he reminded himself.

He swung open the door then and gestured for Lord Stark to leave, the man did as he bid and stood in the passageway looking at him inquisitively. Still Davos said nothing as he closed the door of the cell and re-locked it. When it was done he began sneaking back down the way he had come, glancing behind him to make sure that Lord Stark was following him. When they reached the gate to the docks Davos opened it carefully and glanced around. Thankfully the area was still deserted and he hurriedly gestured for Lord Stark to come out, closing and locking the gate when he had and unfastening his cloak. He handed the cloak to Lord Stark and the man took it gratefully.

"I imagine I haven't been pardoned," Lord Stark said lowly then as he pulled on the cloak.

"No," Davos grimaced, "but I beg you not to hold this against the King … it's that woman, the one who claims to see things in the flames"

"You think she's hoodwinked him?" Lord Stark frowned and he nodded.

"Aye," he said, "best pull that hood down low, follow me"

"Thank you for this," Lord Stark said gratefully and Davos nodded again, his steps brisk.

"My son is sailing to White Harbour, he will get you there safely but after that you're on your own," Davos said.

"In the North at least," Lord Stark said, "is there any way for me to get word to my family"

"Dale has some ravens aboard, he'll take care of you," Davos promised him.

"Thank you," he said again, his mind spinning.

Dale looked towards his father impatiently when he saw him returned and Davos jerked his head towards Lord Stark which made his son frown. He came forwards then and Ned watched as Davos gripped the young man's arm tightly and spoke to him in urgent, hushed tones. When they broke apart Dale looked at him and bowed his head shortly, the action putting Ned somewhat at ease and causing his heart to beat more normally again.

"Keep that hood up, you will stay in my quarters, no one will know but me – on my honour I will get you safely to White Harbour," Dale promised him.

"If you give me leave to write to my son I can promise that you will be richly rewarded when we dock," Ned vowed in return and the young man nodded his agreement.

Abandoned Village, God's Eye Lake

"Shove over," Gendry said, forcing himself between Arya and Bran and pulling the loaf of near stale bread he had into thirds.

"Thanks," Bran said.

"Welcome," Gendry returned, "you going to the Wall as well"

"Of course not stupid," Arya said then, tearing at her own portion of bread.

"Sorry," he said, "I was just trying to be friendly like …"

"Don't mind her … she's always like that," Bran told him and he grinned as Arya scowled.

"What's your name?" Gendry asked him.

"Ben," Bran told him, "and she's Alys," he added, nodding to Arya.

"And that man Jory is your father?" Gendry checked.

"Yes," Bran nodded.

"Thought I saw him once with that Lord Stark," Gendry said then.

"No doubt you thought wrong," Arya snapped and he raised his brows.

Before he could comment though there was the sound of approaching hooves and he felt the two children on either side of him stiffen. He looked down from the rafters of the barn then and noticed that Yoren and Jory were sharing an uneasy look, their hands going to rest on the hilt of their swords. Yoren barked at one of the men to check outside and Gendry watched him with narrowed eyes, the man had stolen his bull helm and he was still trying to plot the best way to steal it back.

"Gold Cloaks!"

The two on either side of him seemed to tense up even more and exchange an uneasy glance with one another. Gendry frowned. He wasn't simple, he may not be the cleverest but he was by no stretch the dumbest and he knew damn well that these weren't simple small folk trying to get back to their farm or whatever their story was.

"We should hide," he said then.

"Yes," Arya said then and he was surprised at how quickly she had agreed.

"There's a gap up there," Bran said, looking up towards the roof.

"Let's go," Gendry said and they all got carefully to their feet and balanced along the rafters until they were directly underneath the gap.

Jory glanced up as he pulled out his sword and saw Gendry helping Bran up into the gap, the boy reaching down to help Arya scramble up after him before the two of them helped the smith's boy up. He was glad they were hiding together, he wasn't tasked with taking care of Gendry – the Stark children were his priority – but the boy shared the blood of the late King and he knew Lord Stark wouldn't want any harm to come to them. He looked towards Yoren then and saw that the black brother had his own sword unsheathed and was arming those recruits that he trusted enough to handle a weapon. They weren't exactly organised but Jory hoped that they would be able to do enough to see off the Gold Cloaks. The boy who had spotted them had said there were seven of them. Surely he, the Captain of the Guards, and Yoren, a seasoned man of the Nights Watch would be able to best them with the help of these green boys.

Jory swallowed hard then as the sound of galloping hooves could be heard right outside the barn. He readied his stance and saw Yoren do the same from the corner of his eye. When he glanced behind them he saw the three Yoren had trusted with weapons looking rather determined, one of them was even wearing a helm. He turned back to the front then as he heard the sound of swords unsheathing and in the next instant Gold Cloaks were entering. Jory went for the nearest one at once, the man seeming surprised that they had been ready and waiting for them and he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as the man fell dead at his feet. He had no time to compose himself before the next Gold Cloak was upon him but he swung his sword up to block him well enough and they exchanged blows for a long minute, Jory's eyes searching for any hint of weakness.

One of the boys was cut down then and his dying scream had the man he was fighting distracted for a spit second. It was all the time Jory needed to kiss his steel across the man's throat. Blood gushed from his neck as he fell to his knees and slumped the ground with a final spluttered, gurgle. Yoren he could see had killed another two and the boy with the bull helm was finishing off another. There were only two left now and Jory raised his sword to one as the boy in the helm engaged the other. This time the boy was not so lucky and he slumped to the floor with a pitiful moan. Jory knew he would not be getting back up as he clashed his sword hard against his opponent, causing him to slip slightly in the blood of his fallen comrade. He rammed his sword hard into the man's stomach then, his light armour giving way easily to the strong, northern steel. Jory wrenched his sword free then and shoved the man to the ground where he moved no more. Breathing hard he turned to see Yoren finishing off the final man and they caught one another's eyes and managed a grim smile of relief.

"Best hide them," Yoren said.

"Best had," Jory agreed and Yoren barked orders for those who had been told to hide to come out and help conceal the bodies of the Gold Cloaks.

"Something will have to be done about the horses," Yoren said then.

"Take them," Jory suggested, "sell them on in the next inhabited town"

"Aye …" Yoren said.

"Will you continue along the King's Road?" Jory asked then.

"Aye," Yoren said again, "I'm a man of the Night's Watch, my business is official"

"Then this is where we part then," Jory said, glancing up to the rafters and seeing Arya, Bran and Gendry emerging from their hiding place.

"Good luck," Yoren said.

"Thank you," Jory nodded.

"You best get going, take some of this steel with you, the young 'uns should be armed," Yoren urged.

"Aye," Jory said reluctantly.

He stepped away then and went to help Bran and Arya down off the hay stacks, Gendry already having dropped down and gone to reclaim his helm from the dead boy who had stolen it. Jory urged Bran and Arya to gather up their things then before picking up the sword of one of the fallen men, weighing it in his hands and thinking that Bran should just about manage to wield it. He pulled away a couple of sword belts then and tossed them towards the Stark children. Bran pulled his around his middle and fastened it with slightly shaking fingers. Arya seemed more confident in her movement, tying it tightly around her before crossing to the cart and pulling out her own sword, Needle.

"Let's go," Jory jerked his head towards the door then and they walked obediently to him.

"Mister!" Gendry called out then, "Mister could I come too?!"

"You are supposed to be headed to the Wall," Jory told him.

"I never wanted to join no Nights Watch, Tobho made me go but I never wanted to … I'm a smith Mister, perhaps you have use of a smith where you're headed," Gendry implored him.

Jory exchanged a look with Yoren then and the black brother shrugged.

"Perhaps we might have use of a smith," Jory said then and Gendry's face lit up, "get yourself armed with a sword and let's get out of here."

Beyond the Wall

Benjen could hear the crunching of footsteps in the snow coming from the thicket of woodland in the shadow of which he and his men had made camp. Whoever was there they were not the stealthiest and Benjen turned from the fire and stood up, turning to face the trees.

"Whoever is there we have a hot fire here if you have some meat to put on it!" he called.

"Is that wise?" one of his men asked.

"If they meant us harm they would have shot a dozen arrows by now," Benjen said.

"Is it wildlings?" another man asked.

"Most like," Benjen nodded and they fell silent as the crunching steps grew closer.

Sure enough, a moment later a group of five wildings emerged from the shadows of the trees and slowly made their way towards the camp. All of them were women, Benjen noted, women of varying ages that he imagined were all somehow related. He vaguely wondered where their men were but stopped. There were many possibilities but it was more than likely that they had perished.

"We got goat," one of the women said then and Benjen nodded.

"We have a fire," he returned and it was her turn to nod.

"Don't often get friendly crows," she said.

"Don't often get friendly wildlings," he told her and she managed a half smile.

He stepped out of the way of the fire then and two of the women knelt and began preparing their meat, the other three hung back looking wary and Benjen sighed before moving to the supply wagon and pouring himself a flagon of ale. Several of his own men were regarding the women warily as well but one or two he noted were raking their eyes over a few of the younger ones with a rather hungry expression on their faces. He frowned then and hoped they would keep their breeches laced, knowing that if they even attempted to take one of the girls by force that they would be castrated in mere seconds. Not that they wouldn't deserve it of course but he needed all the men he could get and he needed them at full strength.

Once the meat was skewered above the fire Benjen moved back towards it and sat with the women who still remained by it. One of them gave him a suspicious look before standing and moving to stand back with the others. The other remained though and it was the one that he had already spoken with.

"What do they call you crow?" she asked him.

"Benjen," he told her, "and you?"

"Menna," she nodded and he returned the gesture, "You're brave lighting this fire"

"How so?" he frowned.

"Fire attracts all sorts," she said darkly.

"I think there are enough of us to ward off an ambush," he said dismissively.

"I ain't talking free folk," she told him and his frown deepened.

"Then what are you taking of?" he asked.

"Walkers," she said simply.

"You believe the tales?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"Be fool not to when I've seen what they can do," she said and he shuddered involuntarily.

"Have you seen one?" he asked.

"If I had, I don't think I'd be sat exchanging pleasantries with you," she snorted.

"There are no men in your party," he stated then, "perhaps they have seen the walkers"

"Or perhaps they've gone further north to join Mance Rayder," she said.

"Mance Rayder?" he said darkly and she really did manage a smile this time.

"You know him?" she asked him and he grimaced.

"You could say that," he growled.

King's Landing

Sansa swallowed hard as the doors to the throne room were opened wide to allow her to pass through. The guards she walked between were stony-faced, not giving her any clue whatsoever what kind of reception she was going to be greeted with. She had not seen anyone but her maids for so long and none of them spoke to her, save to ask her if she needed anything. Yes, she always wanted to say, I need to go home. She never said that though. She never said a word. Her footsteps echoed around the cavernous space as she approached the Iron Throne where Joffrey was sat with an elaborately jewelled crown on his golden head. She supposed that ordinarily the sight would have made her heart flutter but she did not miss the hard, cold look in his eyes. Any hope that he could be the one to save her from this nightmare died then and she took a breath and curtseyed low before him. There was no one else here save for him, the Queen and a few members of what she could only assume was the King's council and she felt her apprehension grow.

"You asked to see me your Grace," she said as calmly and sweetly as she could manage.

"We did little dove," it was the Queen who answered, "we thought perhaps after some time you might have remembered something about where your father and siblings are"

"I don't know anything your Grace," Sansa replied and the Queen smiled, the action not reaching her eyes that were as cold as her sons.

"Come now … do you really expect us to believe that your father would just abandon you here … that you know nothing?" she said, raising one perfect brow.

"I truly don't your Grace," Sansa said, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I think …" the Queen began.

"That the Lady might remember something with some persuasion," Joffrey finished for her.

Sansa swallowed hard, her mouth and throat completely dry as she caught his eye for a second, his eyes that were now suddenly alive and dancing with what she could only describe as malice. She didn't miss the look of confusion that crossed the Queen's face when Joffrey clicked his fingers and it made her dread what Joffrey had planned. The clank of armoured footsteps could be heard then and Sansa wanted to break down and cry when she saw the owners come into view. Each huge White Cloak had someone clamped roughly in their arms. Her Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole. She looked up at Joffrey again then, her eyes wide and unbelieving as a cruel smirk played about his lips.

"Now," Joffrey said, "where is your traitor father?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, "your Grace I don't …" she continued but cut off with a scream of horror as the man holding Septa Mordane ran a blade across her throat. Tears were stinging at her eyes as the blood flowed from her lifeless body, the White Cloak dropping her to the ground as though she were nothing. Tears stung at her eyes and she could hear Jeyne begin to cry as her head spun, her stomach churning horribly as she tried to tear her eyes away from her body.

"Where is your father?!" Joffrey demanded.

"Please!" she begged, "Please your Grace I don't know! I don't know! Please don't!" she pleaded, her eyes on Jeyne as her captor moved his blade to her throat.

"Tell me!" Joffrey roared, standing up from the throne.

"Joff …" she heard the Queen scold in an undertone as Jeyne began to sob relentlessly, Sansa could see her shaking, her eyes wide and begging.

"I cannot tell you what I do not know!" Sansa cried desperately, "Please your Grace! Please don't!"

"Shut her up," he snarled towards the White Cloak.

"No!" Sansa screamed out.

"What is this?!" a commanding voice rang out from behind her then and she could have sank to her knees in relief as the man who held Jeyne stilled his movement.

"What are you doing here?" the Queen asked.

"Stopping your son … although not quite soon enough," the man said, his footsteps coming closer and closer behind Sansa.

"You can't command me," Joffrey sneered, "I am the King"

"And I am your Hand," the man said, walking to stand just in front of Sansa. She knew him now, it was Lord Tyrion.

"What?" the Queen snarled, "Our father is to be Hand"

"Yes," Tyrion agreed, "but he has gone to deal with Stannis and has asked me to take his place … temporarily," he finished smoothly, handing the Queen a scroll of parchment.

Sansa dared to hope then as the Queen flushed furiously on reading the words on the parchment, rolling it back up in a fury and nodding once to Joffrey who flushed an even uglier colour in his own response. Lord Tyrion turned back to look at her then and she tried to calm her racing heart as she looked back at him.

"Go back to your rooms Sansa," he said gently and she glanced warily towards Jeyne. He seemed to notice her line of sight and he turned his attention instead to her and her captor; "let that girl go – now!"

"You have no right!" Joffrey snapped at him.

"I have every right to stop you behaving like a spoiled child!" he snapped right back, "You are supposed to be the King and yet you insist on acting like a toddler having a tantrum … you do not threaten innocent people and you do not murder innocent people. Your name is being spoken of in ill terms as it is – do you really think this is going to endear you to your subjects?"

"Let it go Joff," the Queen murmured then and he turned almost purple with rage before stamping down from the Iron Throne and retreating from the throne room. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief then as the man holding Jeyne finally lowered his blade and loosened his hold on her. For now at least she knew it was over.

A/N: So ... I said there was a lot going on ... thoughts?

:)