Fervent Wishes

by ShingekiNoPantsu

An AU where Jon doesn't go to the Wall but instead stays by Robb's side and becomes his General, aiding him to win the war of five kings. It all comes into effect after a healer helps their ill sibling and unknowingly changes the fates of the Starks like the butterfly effect. Jon x OC

20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Wait, is this...? An early chapter. In fact, it is. Don't count on me ever doing this again, but I'm going to be busy the next couple of weeks so I thought I would put this out ahead of time. Just in case I might not be able to release another one for a long while.

Don't forget to vote in the poll! I'm not surprised who is in the lead through, but who is coming in second kinda left me shocked! Since this is an AU, I'm not following the timeline exactly. Since I'm changing things, some events will happen before they should and some will not happen at all.

Xenocanaan: Whaaaat? How did you guess? I thought nobody would think of him.

Minstorai: Glad your excited! I like Euron as a character more than Ramsay, and I think he gets the backseat a lot to him. Since I helped Theon, she has to suffer by a Greyjoy hands someway and I like Asha/Yara to appear. Well, Victarion is said to be a stupid brute by George R.R. Martin, so if he doesn't care for him I guess the fandom doesn't either. Lol.

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Her eyes pried themselves open slowly, blurrily taking in what looked to be a cabin. The feel of a ship rocking against the ocean waters came to her in seconds, alerting her that she was still out at sea; still very much on this loathing, blood-stained ship. It seemed to be moving through, sailing, possibly away from Seagard. Her body forced itself to sit up and she could feel the lack of strength in her body take over her all at once. Amara wanted nothing more to lay down again, take in the comfort of this bed that she was in, but then her mind rang with several alarms. If she wasn't in her cell and in fact in a cabin, she was more than likely in Euron's quarters. With that realization, her eyes snapped all the way open, and the blaring headache meant nothing at all.

Her hands patted the bed, making sure that she was indeed in one. The panic of it all was making her breath labor as she eventually stilled. Her eyes looked down slowly, almost afraid to find that she might find herself naked. There was no ache between her legs, which she assumed would've been apparent had he had his way with her. Knowing that she was only in a shift was still disturbing and it nearly made her eyes prickle with fury-bedded tears.

"You're awake." Her body stiffened then, her hands gripping tightly to the blankets that she had balled up in her hands while blinking away her tears that only pooled and not fallen. Her gaze found him, following up his body to look at his eye and she couldn't control all the rage she was feeling once his blue eye met hers. Her hands were trembling with anger and her hoarse throat felt strong enough to let out a scream if she wanted it, but as soon as she divided her lips, he spoke again making her close them instantly. "You've been unconscious for four nights." His hands were fiddling with something, she couldn't really see as much since her eyes still had a veil of blur over them. "That just won't do."

The sudden weight on the bed was prevalent near her legs, telling her that he had sat down at her side. She pulled the blankets to her nearly naked form, wanting to shield herself from his sight. Her vision was slowly coming to a clear, and she could see that he was playing with his dagger in his hands. "I haven't touched you. Believe me, I was tempted but I can't have you spoiled. It would ruin my plans."

"Why am I here?"

It was hard to speak. She was desperate need of water, mostly tea. It would be warm enough and with honey and a peppermint leaf, it would assuage the soreness. She doubted tea would be here and Euron as well his men wouldn't be able to make it no less. Even if they could, Amara knew that wouldn't be so kind to make it for her. If you asked him for anything, he would surely want something in return. "I've had you bathed and force fed. You don't trust me when you're awake, so you trust any hand that feeds you while you're starve and asleep." His hand slowly reached out to her and she inched back, not wanting him to touch a single hair on her head or a spot of her skin. Before Amara's stubborness was out of her pride, and now she could feel that it was the fear of what she had no idea happened the past four nights.

Euron upturned his brow, snorting upon the rejection. He pulled his hand back as if he hadn't cared or more like he would let it slide for now. There was but so many times you could say no to Euron, Amara realized. "This is much comfier than the cell, isn't it? A bed is better than the cold, hard ship floor. You slept like a babe; not a stir nor a sound. I rather enjoyed watching you."

Her eyes squeezed tight as the waves of disgust that came over. Just the mere thought of him looming over her as she slept was purely horrifying, "I would like to go back to my cell."

"No." He effortlessly denied her request, "I can't trust you by yourself. If I take you back, you won't eat and that just won't do. I don't like going about things by the half; if I say I need you unspoiled and healthy, I shall have you unspoiled and healthy."

"Why…" Clearing her throat, she tried her best to not wince at the sudden pain from doing so, "Why do you need me?"

Euron continued to play with his dagger, his hand tapping against the black, leather sheath. His eye stared at it for long before flicking its focus at her. "Do you know what makes a man happy?" He didn't leave the question hanging long enough to let her think it'd be proper to answer. Instead he brought himself forward, bringing his face inches towards hers as his whole presence towered over her. If she flinched or moved back then he'd feel he had power and that was the last thing she wanted. He already took enough of her pride, she had to keep hanging onto the rest of it. "A pretty wife."

The Greyjoy barked in laughter at her sudden horrified expression, eyes squinting in high spirits as he found her absolute fear and disgust the most humorous of things. "Yes, you won't be an iron-wife but a salt one. Whether you'll be mine or Victarion's is something I have yet to decide on." Victarion Greyjoy? Amara never heard of him and she feared meeting another Greyjoy at this rate. Were they all smug and cruel? None of them kind? None of them not willing to take what didn't belong to them? "My brother falls in love rather easily; lad just can't help himself when his eyes lay across a pretty face. Defiant you are, but you won't be so with him, not when you know what he can do. Want to know what happened to his third salt-wife?"

Amara hadn't given him an answer but she suspected he was going to tell her anyway. Her whole body was felt a sudden cold shiver as Euron's fingertips pressed themselves against her jaw in a light touch, slowly tracing the line of it with an unusual softness and making her cringe from the inside out. The healer nearly wanted to rip off the skin, thinking it tainted by his touch. "Beautiful thing she was. So beautiful with the goldenest of curls and greenest of eyes, I was enamored with her as soon as I laid eyes on her. I thought, 'Why should my brother have such a pretty salt-wife? He can't do her right, the stupid brute.' So I whispered sweet, sweet words in her ears and laid her down and filled her belly with my seed."

His hand slithered from her jaw, turning his hand so that the back of his fingers caressed themselves down her neck and so that his fingers could trace her collarbone. This sudden interest in touching her was strange, and she couldn't fathom what the reason behind it was. "Victarion was enraged; like a whirlpool, like a kraken ripped the sea to swallow everything. He wanted to kill me so bad. You should've seen the look in his eyes when he found her out to be with child that wasn't his. He was bloody mad. He wanted to be a kinslayer."

Wandering down the v-line of her shift towards her breasts, his hands hovered over her with a hesitance that seemed entirely unlike him. The temptation to touch her was there, Amara could see it in the way his blue eye began to grow dark, nearing blue of Shade of the Evening. It was coated with the lust she saw in the eyes of men in brothels, familiar but never liking that the object of his desire was her. A sigh of relief nearly escaped her as he let his hand slips away from her and pressed down onto the bed. He instead brought his lips to her ear and spoke in a much gentler voice, "He fisted her face to death. The pretty girl looked nothing like she once did and her hair was blotched, tangled with her blood, face caved in from the pounding that his fists brought. He cried while killing her, proving he really did love her; I nearly felt sorry for what I did until I realized I was freed of a child. He then threw her out in the sea and gave her to crabs. They ate nearly everything of her, even those squashed green eyes I liked."

Once he pulled away, allowing her eyes see his face again, she tightened her jaws as her eyes were feeling the heat of the tears she nearly shed out of her anger. That woman didn't deserve it, whether she was kind or not, whether she liked Euron or was raped by him, she didn't deserve it. "When he sees you, he'll be much more obedient and happy. I want my brother's happiness more than anything because it works in my favor. He likes a submissive girl, one that can't tell him no." His hands forced her lips apart, pulling at the pink muscle that was her tongue by its tip and unsheathed his jagged dagger, inching it dangerously towards her tongue. Amara hadn't blinked nor moved, knowing that he would've liked to seen her fight to give him reason to go through with it. She was scared, she could admit that, but she was not going to let it show to him. "I should slice off that tricksy tongue of yours, but you speak so nicely. I like it and he might too, just about every man likes a wailing woman in the bedchambers."

The choice wasn't in her hands. If it were then what would've been the better choice? To convince him ( as well as herself ) to be his salt-wife instead or be Victarion's? At least she had an idea of how to work herself around Euron, but Victarion? She hadn't met him to get a feel of him. Who knows, he might just be easier to control, and she might be able to convince him to fight Euron. He might've needed a push, a reason, for someone to fan the fire of his desire within him to be king. Then he would give her liberties and she could use that kindness for her own freedom. It all required to make him love her though and she was sure she couldn't do that while being a virgin throughout.

It was a matter of seconds before he let go of her tongue before giving it a pinch. She pulled it back in her mouth, wetting it with the little saliva she could make due to the dryness of her mouth. The thought of almost being without it made her stomach clench in fright. How lucky she was that this was only part of his mind games than him actually being sadistic enough to do it. Composing herself, she tried to keep her voice appealing instead of wobbly, she tried to make herself look bleak. Her head was low, her eyes to peeking at him through her lashes. Euron might not know pity, so it might not work, but if he thought her to be being chipped away then it might work in her favor. "And what if…" She purposely stopped herself, eyes shaky, "what if I don't make him happy? He'll throw me to the sea and won't obey you."

Euron noticed the sudden change, watching to see any hint of it being an act. Maybe it was a good thing she watched Ros at work, to get a feel of how to use a man. She was never good at it, she was just good at pretending to listen and to seeming interested, but to make them do your bidding? Ros was excellent at that. "If I decide it then you will." There was no room for argument in his voice as he placed his dagger back in its sheath, giving her room to breathe without it in her sight. "You'll make him blithe. You'll wet his cock with your cunt and your mouth until he thinks you shit stars. You will please him, I'll see to that if I make the decision for you be to be his wife." Grasping for her neck, her eye right eye squinted at the sudden press of his thumb against the center of her throat. It didn't work or maybe he was trying to force himself to not fall for it? She couldn't read him, and the action seemed to spontaneous. "Otherwise it won't matter what he wants to do with you, you'll be mine and I'll put an end to you. Do you hear me?"

Perhaps the scariest thing about Euron was the way he spoke so calmly. Voice still like pure silver, honeyed with lies and threats that bled like a snake's venom, and yet he never raised his voice to another note. He was so soft in speech, making you fear just how it would be if he were truly incensed with you. "I said, do you hear me?"

"I hear you." She replied, voice toneless. Amara had gotten so used to nearly being strangled by him that she couldn't find herself caring if he did it again. He wouldn't kill her, she reasoned. He had too much need of her.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding." His hand relaxed its grip, loosening from her neck and sliding into her hair, giving it a soft comb. If she had been foolish, she might've thought him affectionate, but he only did it to leave her confused. He thought if he showed kindness in some minutes and threats in others that she'd would think it best to be more obedient. Amara did fear him, but not enough to be a yes-girl even in her mind; not even enough to not plot her way out of this. Her mind was steady gearing on ways to free herself from this situation. "You know, I've never learned your name."

"Amara, my lord." Her answer was said nearly through gritted teeth, lips a crescent that made him mirror it.

"Pretty name." A thoughtful look came across his face, puzzling her. "Though I have to wonder, why someone would name you after a flower that never dies? Is that why you're so stubborn? Do you think yourself immortal?" His words left her stunned, wondering how he came across to know about the Amaranth flower. Amara knew him to be smart, but for him to know the language of flowers was odd. It was more than just odd. It didn't even seem right coming from him.

She didn't continue the conversation, letting the flow of it end here in the middle of her shock. Amara didn't want to act too interested about him, she would've much rather been silent but he required her to speak minutes ago and she got the answer to her question. Instead, she laid herself down back down, letting her hair comb itself out of his fingers before lying down atop of the blankets as it followed her. She moved to her side, shielding herself from him with her back and she hoped that he wouldn't bother her again. She nearly prayed in hopes that he would just leave her be.

He let out a snort, the bed creaking as the weight of him disappeared from it. The healer almost felt comforted by the fact, but she would never be comfortable as long as she was still his hostage.

...

Autumn's air was crisp, filling his lungs as they were aboard the ship back to Saltpans and to the Riverlands. Dorne gave them 30,000 men and a fleet along with them. It wasn't a large one but a good size once they got their fleet combined with the Northern and River ones. With the numbers, they should be enough to fight a good battle at sea if it ever had to come to that. Everything about this trip and back was giving Jon some sort boost of hope that they could truly win this war. He had doubts, like any other person, but now he felt free of them by a large margin. What he and Robb were about to accomplish was something that people told stories about and they would have ballads about them too. Leaving for war as boys but ending it as men, and making the North great and proud as it once was. Nevermind the South who ass sits on its Iron Throne, they would finally be on their own; not married to dragons or being ruled by a prick made of incest. The North was its own power and not one to be tampered with.

They would be heading straight for Golden Tooth when they rested in Rivverun, gathering the remainder of their men there with the Dorne numbers they acquired. Jon could finally see Amara again too, hoping that she had read his letter and received his early gift. It took him a while but he settled for a YiTish ornament of a heather flower to put in her hair, something that Arianne thought she might like. She never told him what a heather meant but urged him to buy it and give it to Amara after he called it pretty. Part of him thought it had some very perverse meaning like the cactus flower, but seeing as she didn't laugh or tease him about it, it might've meant something else. Arianne, childish in nature, became easier to talk to during their time in Dorne, even if it meant hearing about her plots to seduce Robb.

He walked down to the Captain's cabin to join Robb and the other lords as they decided to go over their plans for Golden Tooth. Since Oberyn, Dara Dayne, and a few other lords and ladies were new, they had no idea of how they planned to take the Westerlands. It wouldn't be that long to explain, seeing how perceptive Oberyn was and attentive Dara was herself, he was sure they would get quick to the plans in no time. Who knows, they might come up with their own strategic plans to put in good use. Jon also wanted to ask Robb to send some people to Winterfell to keep it tightly guarded. With the way Jason Mallister's letter told them that Balon declared himself King of the Isles and the North, it was dangerous to leave Winterfell and the other North castle's with a weak defense. The last they needed was something to happen to the boys back at home.

As soon as he opened the door, he heard Robb talking with his fingers placed on the large table-map. He moved the Stark piece on Golden Tooth as he gave his battle plan. "What we need is Lannisport. We'll go to Golden Tooth and discover the fastest way there. Lannisport will the biggest thing we take, we'll be able to stop Tywin from gaining any supplies, cutting him off completely. No ships will go back or forth to Casterly Rock without our permission. We'll have it completely garrisoned."

"That's a future plan," Oberyn pinched the hair on his chin, rubbing the prickly strands together as his eyes stayed glued to the map. "Suppose we find our route to the Westerlands, will we be meeting a Lannister head first before we claim a stronghold?"

"Possibly, I heard that Stafford Lannister has been raising an army there." Robb explained to him, "The men, from what ravens sent told me, are inexperienced and hardly worth what the Lannister spent coin on. They are there just to block the road, not strong enough to defeat us. I figure they hope to tire me out and make me low on supplies to make me turn back is what they're aiming for since they are so close to Lannisport. It is only three day rides away from them."

"That would be the the wiser." Oberyn nodded, understanding the tactic. "For them, at least, if that were in their favor."

Jon had watched Dara Dayne, who stood beside Oberyn, dressed in chainmail and purple armor than the light and airy clothes she wore in the coliseum when he named her Little Fighter. She looked much like warrior with a face etched in an expression to prepare for the upcoming battle and her hair tied in a ponytail with her eyes focusing on the entirety of the Westeros map before her. Dacey Mormont was to her left, looking esteemed as she always did, and even gave Dara quick lessons on what they had done prior to gaining an alliance with Dorne. It seemed Dacey was more than happy about another female company other than her own fighters and her mother.

As the conversations continued, Jon folded his arms as he listened to the advice of Lord Karstark on the best approach of the Westerlands and to draw Tywin away from Harrenhal. Even after their trip to Dorne, he hadn't left, and it left them wondering what he planned to do next. What would he do about Lord Renly who was surely going to move with his 100,000? Was he not worried about Renly as much as he was worried about them?

Dara, shyly, rose her hand to gather their attention. Her voice was surprisingly small, "Excuse me, might I add something about our plan of Lannisport, Your Grace and my lords?"

Jon rose a brow, curious to what she had to say. Robb held the same expression before giving her a nod, "Go on."

"If we are to take Lannisport, Your Grace, I think there are several things we should have to do once we conquer it." Her voice was a little shaky, showing how nervous she was. It wasn't an everyday occasion where a woman was allowed go give her advice during a battle plan that wasn't Lady Maege. She swallowed thickly, pulling at the chainmail at her neck. "Uhm, what I mean to say is that, we must take hostage of the City Council when we do."

"What for?" Greatjon asked with his head in a curious tilt, "Why not just kill them?"

"It would make our king seem like a savage!" Her voice rose amidst her passion, and she appeared flustered by it seconds afterwards. "My apologies, Lord Umber, I didn't mean to raise my voice." Clearing her throat, she combed away the stray lock of her hair. "What I mean to say is, we must make King Robb look good to the people. They will obey him if they feel that he won't bring them harm. He also must not look too weak because a dangerous few might rebel, but if he shows them how kind and fair he is along with his strength, it won't be as many."

He could see her point, and he even found it solid enough. Feeling more confident than before, Dara's voice finally became loud enough for them to not strain themselves to hear as she continued. "So the council should be held hostage; all overseers should be in irons and cells so we keep everything silent as no ships will leave the harbors and give Lord Tywin messages or supplies; he'll be completely cut off by his greatest limb."

His brother stood with his arms crossed, soaking in her words. He put them in consideration and before Jon could encourage to take her advice, he already had his mind set to something. "And what of the smallfolk?"

Her violet eyes looked down at the map as she fiddled with her fingers, "Curfews and patrols will be a must, no doubt. If you would have me, I don't mind arranging or leading patrol groups or even just giving a small share in decisions regarding them. They will be needed to make sure none of them give out decisions or devise riots and hazing."

It was easy to say that most of the people were impressed. Jon smiled as Robb rubbed his auburn stubble of a beard, giving her a nod. "I was thinking just that, my lady. If you wish to take the task, I will allow you to prepare groups fit for hours of the day and the night for patrol when the time comes. I trust you will make sure the best men are for the job."

"Yes, Your Grace." In attempts to hold back her smile, she had sunk her teeth down her bottom lip. It was much too obvious that she was overjoyed that her plan was aligned with the king's thinking. Jon nearly wanted to laugh, almost imagining if this was how Amara would be if she butted herself in the matters of war. She only did so when she was made to be around, especially when Lady Stark required her presence. Other than that, she only gave her full attention to the injured as if she had no care for what they did. The last thing she was vehement to put her opinion on was Theon.

Part of him was grateful about her argument because he began to wonder if Theon would've truly felt the need to side with his father in becoming heir of the "King of the Isles and the North" as Balon proclaimed himself to be. Would Theon have betrayed them? Robb might've not thought so, but Jon could see it. Theon liked to do things for his own gain most if not all the time. If he wanted, he could go to the Pyke right now and fight his Uncle Victarion for the throne of the Iron Islands. Whether he wanted to or not, Jon didn't care. As long as the North wasn't touched.

"I think we have nearly everything planned." Robb laid his hands down on the table, using it as something to lean on. "The next meeting we'll have is at Golden Tooth. Our plans for Lannisport are solid but since it's not in our sight and what happens before we reach it, we might have to alter our plans. This council meeting is over, you all may go."

Many of the lords assembled started to leave the cabin, the only people staying behind were himself and Robb since Oberyn wrapped his arm around Dara and Dacey's shoulders, talking to them about whatever was resting on his mind. Jon just hoped he wasn't looking for their company in bed, he didn't know just how strong Dacey was in her own right. That would be amusing fight though; the She-Bear heir vs. the Red Viper.

"I've seen you have become quite fond of Princess Arianne during our stay in Dorne." Jon whipped his head toward his brother, who was pouring a measure full of wine. He smiled as he talked, only giving Jon reason to believe that he was only teasing him as per usual. Robb playful nature last appearance was back when they just marched out of Winterfell. Jon was a bit glad that he could be his old self sometimes, "Do you fancy her?" Pouring a second cup, Robb offered him the first one. Jon took it, seeing as he would have need of it if Robb wanted to pry.

"No." He replied before taking a mouthful of what he discovered was the Dornish drink. It was the strongwine; the one that reminded him of blood from its color but it was the right kind of sweet. Not overpowering nor dull, just somewhere in the middle. Jon's tolerance for liquor had grown since the night of King Robert's feast in Winterfell. He never wanted to embarrass himself like that again, so he learned how to drink more than a cup or two without acting like a bumbling idiot. "Princess Arianne is entirely interested in you, my king brother. You should've heard her schemes."

Robb halted his actions, the rim of the cup touching his bottom lip as his icy eyes narrowed slightly. "And here I thought that came to an end when she spent her time with you." Robb didn't sound disappointed, maybe he was relieved. Arianne was skilled in the art of seduction and he was sure Robb possibly was holding on the last leg of his rope whenever he was alone with her. Neither one of them had the time to bed a woman, but Robb was the one who would be getting married. Jon starved himself for his own moral compass, and he was finding himself growing weaker in keeping that resolve.

"You did mention she would be a good queen." Taking the first swig of the wine, he could feel the burn as the beverage was tickling down his throat with the welcoming the spread of warmth blossoming in his chest and stomach. The drink was almost as intense as Dorne's sun. "But I see you're going to keep your promise to Walder Frey."

"What other choice do I have?" Jon lowered his head some, unsure of what advice to give. A good king keeps his promises but Jon didn't want his brother unhappy. It seems everyone was unhappy, and was it worth to bring more unhappiness around? Yet this was the way of the world; unhappiness was more common than happiness. It was something they had to live with and accept, you can't just have what you want all the time. He told Robb that before, and he knew he had to stick by it. "I received a letter from my mother." Jon's head raised up at that, curious of what Lady Stark told him. Robb's eyes slowly peered over at him, his look rather troubling. "She says Amara left for Winterfell the same time she departed. Did she send you a letter beforehand?"

The news did a number of things to him, but mostly it shocked him. "No, I haven't received anything." This was his first time hearing this, and he wondered why Amara hadn't told him. Why had she not send him a raven telling him this? "She should be there by now unless the cold is giving her a hard time. How many men are with her?"

"She left by herself."

Jon's eyes widened at that, "What?!" His hand tightly gripped his cup of wine when he truly wanted to drop it. He halfway wanted to throw in the spike of his frustration and the creeping sensation of fear that snaked his way through him.

Robb let out a sigh, taking another gulp of wine. He seemed irritated himself about this, but he was keeping his calm demeanor as he usually did. Amara had the ability to make him quick in anger yet he didn't seem as vulnerable to it now, "My mother said she told her to wait until we returned or take a few men with her but she refused. She says she's desperate to see Austin, Bran, and Rickon."

In the midst of his anger, Jon felt guilty. He knew how much she missed Austin, it was written all over her face and in the way she moved. Her eyes were always glazed with a look of forlorn and she would constantly gaze in the direction of Winterfell half the time from her window or even outside. Other times, she looked ready to cry just from speaking about him or recalling a memory of him. Jon knew firsthand that Amara felt guilty for leaving him in the first place. It was part of the main reasons why Jon didn't want her following them to war in the first place; for her own safety and for her to stay with Austin, but she was too bull-headed to listen to him before and now she was putting herself in danger's reach without thought.

"Has anyone told Ser Rodrik to be on the lookout for her?"

He was relieved in a instant by Robb's nod, "My mother did. If she isn't there by another week, we'll need to send a search party. I also need to be speak with Lord Bolton about the way Ramsay has been acting. I fear he is going to do something far worse if left to do as he pleases."

Jon heard of him even before the war. It was bastards like Ramsay that made people look at any bastard with disdain; not only were they a stain to their families honor, but some of them were savage-like, and making everyone eye them the same. Maybe it was because Jon was raised in Winterfell under his father that he turned out so different. Lord Bolton left Ramsay with his mother, who had no strength to control him.

Just the mere thought that Ramsay could find Amara, alone, was enough to unsettle him. His hands kept pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to turn off any horrid thoughts that suddenly came into mind should she be captured. He wanted to scream about how she could be so reckless as to travel alone in a war torn Westeros. She was smarter than that, he knew she was smarter than that, and yet she was so blinded by her maternal instincts that she might've put herself in the hands of the likes of Ramsay Snow.

He forced himself to sit by the nearby chair, putting his cup of wine on the small table next to him so that he didn't drop it all so he can bury face in his hands. Nothing was beginning to feel right, right now that he heard this news. What if all the constant dreams and the nagging feeling in the back of his head meant something? What if meant she was in danger or even worse? Part of him blamed himself for following Robb to Dorne. Robb could've went on his own, he handled everything well, and he didn't need much of his help. If he had gave in to Amara, who didn't even want him to leave in the first place, then he would know where she was. He might've even gone with her to Winterfell with the protection he wanted to suggest for Winterfell. There was so many what-if's popping in his head that was starting to feel a dull ache take itself over.

"She'll be fine." Not even coming from Robb could that comfort him. Her life was in danger and here he was in a ship, unable to do anything about it. He felt useless and restless. Like he was ready to jump off board and swim his way to land to find her. It didn't make sense but the blood boiling in his body was half-tempted to make him do it. "Amara has been traveling by herself for years, I'm sure she is well-equipped in taking care of herself." Robb didn't even sound like he believed himself. Well-equipped? Did he forget how if it wasn't for them, she would've been taken by those bandits? If it weren't for them, she might not even be alive right now.

"There's something wrong." Dragging his hands across his face, he winced at the headache that was start to throb like a heartbeat in the center of his forehead. Instead of thinking of the worst, he thought it would be smarter to think of the route she used. "If she wanted to get there faster and safer, she would've gone to Seagard first."

"If she took a horse then she might be riding straight for Winterfell with a stop to Seagard for rest." Downing the rest of his wine, Robb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Any wine left on his lips was sure to be gone when he drew them in while he thought, "You'll receive a letter, I'm sure she wouldn't leave you to worry about her." Jon rose his head, slowly, with his eyes moving up to look at his brother. "I know you have feelings for her. Did you think I would never notice?" The corner of his lips lifted minimally, making a small smile appear. This was all too overwhelming. "You two are never without each other, I'm sure this is the longest time you spent away from her because of me. I'm well aware that you love her."

What was he supposed to do? Jon supposed that lying wouldn't be right, but this wasn't how he wanted Robb to know about it. Did he make it so painfully obvious to him now or if he knew before now, how long did he know? "I had feelings for her myself. I don't think I loved her, but it was something. I guess that's why I act a bit bitter with her because I knew I wasn't who she wanted. I owe her an apology for my harshness and I also give you my blessings, Jon Stark; my brother. My blood."

With a few steps, Robb went to a drawer and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. He then turned and handed it to Jon, who slowly took it with his eyes narrowed in confusion and still reeling from shock. "That parchment is your legitimization. You are no longer a Snow, no bastard brother of mine. You are my true brother as well my heir."

His fingers felt heavy a steel as he unrolled the parchment, letting his eyes feast upon the words that he so desperately wanted all his life. It was the boy in him that wanted to cry, but his smile was much too overwhelming to let him shed any tears. Robb gripped the back of his neck lightly, shaking him before pressing his head to Jon's own with a smile. Their brotherly bond always had it ups and downs, but nothing had solidified it more than this moment. Jon couldn't feel truly happy however. He got what he always wanted yet he could possibly lose the thing he was willing to give everything up for in the process.

...

The seawater soaked through her boots, chilling her feet whilst making the leathers squeak and slosh with every step she took. Amara shivered from her feet up as she stood on the rocky shore of the Pyke, her black robes waving in the strong wind that came and gone. The only joy she could have in this setting was being able to keep inhaling the scent of the salt, ocean waters that rolled along the sea breeze, filling her senses with just a touch of home in spite of it being a different sea. It was better than staying on the Silence, but was the Pyke any better? Not at all. Escaping a ship was more likely, but escaping a castle that had its own island as well as several others around it? She was truly trapped and bound to become Victarion or either Euron's salt-wife.

Euron urged her forward, pushing the small of her back as she her arms shifted uncomfortably in the ropes he had her tied in. He thought her too weak for iron, and so he settled for ropes. Did he think she would try to run? She indeed thought about it. Her blade could cut through them nicely, she thought, yet now wasn't the time. She had to wait for opportunities and not be so reckless as much as she wanted to be. "Move." His voice held authority in spite of the smile he wore. He seemed so happy to be home, and she wondered why it had taken them a fortnight just to get here. They had been so close, so what would be the reason to delay it? What did Euron have to do in Seagard that he couldn't leave straight away? If he thought that she hadn't paid any mind to that then he must've thought her simple-minded. Amara was looking into everything, everything that could manipulate the situation to her favor.

She walked much faster, not wanting him to touch her again. He wasn't pleased with that neither because the healer was pulled her by the back of her clothes so that she walked a few inches behind him, enough so that his eyes could catch her from their corners. It must've been some sort of insult for an ironborn to have a woman walk ahead or alongside them, and that's why he had been so rough that she nearly fell backwards.

His men were silent, which was to be expected. Amara found out the hard way that they had their tongues gruesomely ripped from their mouths. They were subservient to insane degree, possibly because they were muted or their minds had been sorely messed with by Euron's silver tongue. They were so fearful that they couldn't realize all of them was stronger than one of him. She couldn't even think that coercing them to turn themselves against him would work. They were just that loyal.

The Pyke wasn't a beautiful castle; it was dreary, grey, and fit for the dead in her opinion. The halls were long like they stretched on forever and they were so skin-crawlingly silent. It was so quiet that if a ghost would move a painting by an inch, they all would hear the sound of the canvas gently scraping the wall. She instantly hated the feel of this place, even the air felt like someone had just died in these castle walls. How many ironmen and women roamed these halls as silhouettes? Come to think of it, this place might've truly been suitable for Euron for Theon didn't belong here. He had too much life in him, and deep down he was bit more kinder for this place. This place would change him. It would turn him cruel, she thought.

They moved as a group to what appeared to be the Great Hall that was within the Great Keep. Amara's eyes scanned the room to see a lot of the ironborn had been assembled here, possibly for other reasons since many of them were of pure shock upon Euron's appearance. He paid them no mind and kept his stride towards the seastone chair. It was oddly structured, made of elements unknown to her, but looked like it was painted by black oil and made in the perfect shape of a kraken. Euron set his eye on it and nothing could break him from marching towards it. He eventually turned to face them and sat down, a small smile etched itself across his face as he sighed and rubbed his hands against the sleek arms of the chair since he enjoyed the sleek feel of it. It might've more than that, Euron might've enjoyed the power that seeped into him by just sitting on it. A throne makes a man go crazy.

"Crow's Eye." One of them ironborn men called out, "What are ya doing here? Ye've been exiled for years… Never to return."

Amara wanted to smirk, she suspected that much. Euron wasn't even wanted by his own family. "My brother exiled me and now my brother is dead so I've been told. Who better to take the throne? My brother Victarion or me? My deceased brother's son willingly stays with the Starks that took him. He is nothing but a stranger and enemy to us now, and my brother's daughter?" His brow raised in question, "Would you want a woman to be King of the Isles and the North?"

What did Euron do to be exiled, Amara wondered. Possibly something heinous, he does terrible things, and she could see that Lord Balon would've had enough sense to send him away for that. Could it have been the incident between Euron and Victarion about his third salt-wife? Did that woman's death really have such an impact to get Euron banished?

There was a part of her felt wrong, wrong for the fact that she had kept Theon away from his father. Now Balon was dead and Theon would've never got to know him again, but would it have been worth it? Balon was bound to die. How he died was a mystery in itself. Euron would've killed Theon if he found him a threat to his seastone chair. Then again, maybe Euron was right. Maybe the ironborn seem him as some sort of stranger due to him being gone for nearly most of his life. Theon wouldn't want the Iron Islands if too many men would fight against it.

"I came here to claim the throne as King of the Isles and the North." Amara clenched her teeth, wondering what gave him right to try and take the North.

'The North belongs to Robb.' She thought, 'Robb nor Jon will never let you take it from them.' He would've beat her senseless if she had been brazen and said that in front of his lord and ladies, who were shocked at his declaration already. Whispers began to the fill the Great Hall, all of them too low for her ears to keenly hear, but one stood out to her above the rest: "I don't s'ppose you think he be the one to kill Balon, do ya?" Her eyes widened at that before looking at Euron, who let his eye roam across the hall and observe the gossiping people. Did he kill Balon or did he hire someone? One would surely think it strange that he came back to the Pyke as soon as he was dead. He was alive and well as far as Amara knew when she was in Seagard before being kidnapped as well as before when Robb wanted to send Theon here for aid.

Euron pressed his fist to his cheek, his elbow propped by the seastone chair's arm. "Does it matter? I have claimant to the throne, and I have taken it. Anyone who dares to go against me will meet their end and their bodies thrown to the crabs. It is that simple, really. So, who is the first to oppose or will you all bend the knee?"

Silence came swiftly and it stayed for a few minutes of time. The lords and ladies were all looking at one another, unsure on what to do. Kneel or die. That were the only choices Euron was giving them. And seeing how life proved to be much more precious, many of them forced themselves to bend the knee while a select few remained seated. Some chose to obey while other chose to die. Euron didn't even spare them the chance and sent his tongue-less men after them, creating a giant massacre in the Giant Hall.

As much as she did not want to watch, she knew that Euron was watching her. His lone eye observing how she would soak into it and whether she would cower in fear or act resilient. Her eyes feasted upon the savagery, her eyes prickling with tears at the sense of uselessness that began to eat away her. If she was strong, if she had killed Euron on the ship, if she had done this and that then maybe none of this would've happened. The healer was feeling thirteen again in the most horrible of ways. There was nothing she could do about anything or else she would die along with them.

The gurgling screams slipped into her ears, shaking her ear drum and the entirety of the Great Hall. It was also shaking her memories of the corpses and that he left in his wake before. As much as she wanted to block out the memory, she knew that it was something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. That wasn't something you could forget; your mind couldn't just block something like that out. And now this was another memory that would stay with her, her mind being poisoned by Euron's cruelty.

The sound of steel meeting flesh, passing through it and splattering blood on the floor was constant. The men did not hold back, plunging their swords deep into any body that that stood or sat in brave defiance. They weren't kind, some of them hacked off limbs to give that person a slow death; letting the crimson liquid inside them spill and spill until they were dried out. Why not a quick death? Why make it so painful? Was that Euron threatening the remaining people alive of what he would do to them? They looked every bit of horrified as she felt, especially the women. They probably never seen such carnage before and now they would see it in every moment of their life, even in their dreams for a long while.

Pieces of her wanted to kneel down and scream, to block it all out. What good would that do anyway? It wouldn't change anything nor would it reverse time to bring her back to Seagard and taking Jason Mallister's advice. This was something she had to deal with and no amount of wishing or ignoring was going to help her.

It felt like forever, when it all stopped. The smell of blood was wafting in her nostrils and making her squeamish. Her eyes closed for a good long while, rather seeing darkness than the hacked pieces of flesh that were once people. She could hear the cries and whimpers of women, and even the pleas and wails of their children. She hadn't even known children were here and that made her heart ache even more.

"The rest of you, I am thankful that you bend the knee to me. You will be rewarded well for your loyalty. It has not gone unnoticed." Her mind could see the smile he was wearing where her eyes could not. She also heard him lifting himself from the chair and his feet leisurely making their way towards her. Amara forced her eyes open, looking at him through her peripherals. "Amara, you must be hungry and tired. Why not get ourselves something to feast on and retire for the remainder of the day while the Great Hall is cleaned?"

His muscled arm was stretched out for her to take, and Amara refused it. For one, her wrists were bound. Second, she didn't want to touch him. She stayed still and kept her eyes away, her body seething like there was fire in her veins and halfway trembling with a storm of hatred that aged for him. At least she could still feel her dagger in her boot. That was probably the only thing that could give her just a hint of happiness. This dagger would put an end to him, she promised herself that. Her mind kept visioning on her stabbing it deep into the only eye he had left or in his chest, right where his heart should be. He might still live since she doubted such a thing still beats within him. No matter if the monster was with or without a heart, he would still bleed, he would still die, of that she was sure.

With a sharp turn, she stood beside him and waited for him to lead her. His smile never once tugged downward as he let his arm fall to his side. Euron led the way towards the the Keep they would be staying in. Amara hoped she had her own room and wouldn't be sleeping in his, she figured Victarion would think of her ruined if Euron decidedly chosen him as her iron-husband. Her eyes decided to look at the walls, catching sights of the former Kings of the Isles. All of them looked mean and hard of heart, not a single painting had a smile or a glimpse of kindness in their eyes. Even the women, some of them even looked sad or just as bitter as the men.

"Bring the lil' dusky here." Euron said to one of the tongue-less men, which left Amara confused. Who was dusky? They stood in the middle of the hall, waiting for this person to be brought to them until a beautiful woman was before them. Amara's eyes captured the sight of her beautiful skin first, reminding her pure bronze. Her skin was smooth and it glistened, even from the flames of the torches that lit the hall. Her eyes were dark and big, purely round, and she had her head low. "She will be your handmaiden until I find better use of her."

Better use? She either as a bedwarmer or something more sinister, prior to this sudden decision Amara thought. Euron cut her ropes with a quick swipe of his knife, and she instantly rubbed her sore wrists with a few rubs of her hands. He pointed to the door opposite of the room that was meant for her supposed handmaiden, "That'll be your room, woman. Make sure Amara's room is locked at night, will you?" The dark-skinned woman nodded obediently, not uttering a word. Euron then opened the door, pointing towards it for Amara to go in and he let the other woman following her in before shutting the door.

A handmaiden, he said. She was not a lady nor a princess. Amara didn't have the need for Zola because she was fully able to take care of herself, and it made her seem like slave than it did a servant. She might've just been one too, seeing as Euron never gained the things he wanted. He took them by force, by pure violence and threats. Now it was awkward in every sense, seeing as this was the first time meeting her. Was she on the ship? Amara had never seen her on it, maybe Euron had her busy doing other things and so their paths never crossed until now. Her blue eyes studied the young woman, who stood there with her head neither held high or low. It was like she was waiting, for what? Amara had no clue. Not wanting to sit in this silence any longer, she decided to strike up a conversation first. "Hello."

The woman eyes snapped to her with surprise, brows raised and a look of uncertainty etching across her face. She gave a tug of her lips, "Hello." The reply was low, small, but it was a reply nonetheless. The woman's voice was soothing; kind of husky, having a richness that was hard to describe. It was just a simple hello but Amara noticed the way she talked. It sounded nice with a foreign twist.

"My name is Amara," She hoped she was being too forward, even thought this was the basis of a conversation when meeting a stranger. "What is yours?"

"Zola." The dark-skinned answered almost meekly, her smile then went into a straight line and her eyes lowered. "But Lord Euron calls me dusky." He called her dusky because of her brown skin. It seemed like an insult coming from him, even though he could compliment the things he liked. He sure did when he spoke about Victarion's last salt-wife he took. Amara liked Zola's skin, it was a golden brown and looked like it kept heat, a radiant warmth.

Having noticed the accent when she first spoke, just from hearing her speak more, let Amara figure out that she was from Lys. During her travels, she met few people from there, so the accent was memorable from those experiences alone. "You're from Lys, yes?" Amara smiled at the shocked expression. Zola gave a quick nod. From the looks of it, she might've been the same age as Theon. She looked older while her eyes were round and big like a childish, so it made her younger in that sense. Sometimes a girl's body matured faster than her face, and that's why age was such a tricky thing. "Would you come sit next to me?" The healer patted the space of the bed next to her.

She seemed hesitant, almost afraid to be anywhere near her. For Zola to be her handmaiden, she would have to accept them being close. It would be hard to pull off in front of Euron that she was doing her duty, even if Amara didn't want to cross into Zola's space that she didn't want anyone to intrude.

With a bit of patience, Amara watched Zola took slow steps forward, making her way towards her and slowly sitting down on the bed. She rested her hands on her lap, unsure of what to do with them. "I'm not going to harm you, Zola. I don't want to be here as much as you do." Amara sighed after saying so, eyes looking up at the ceiling and towards the window that had iron bars. If only she was small enough to slip through them.

"You are slave too?" The question made Amara frown, and only confirmed what she thought Zola to be.

She wasn't bought nor sold, she was just taken. Now she was either going to be his salt-wife or given to his brother, which seemed like an act of slavery, but it was nothing compared to what Zola might've gone through. So how she could explain that? "Not really." She settled, "I've met Euron years ago and now he keeps me for some plan of his."

"You should never speak. I stay mute and just listen. He whips, he hits. He doesn't like for woman to talk, only scream." No wonder why she never heard her, she was silent. Hearing that only intensified her hatred for Euron and made her sympathetic for Zola. Amara always spoke, whether asked or no. It was was lead her to where she was today, maybe she should keep her mouth shut.

"You can always talk to me, Zola." The healer gave her a smile, "Let's be friends."

"Friends?" The young woman repeated, "You want to be… friends?"

"Yes." She nodded, staring straight into Zola's dark eyes to remove any doubts. "Friends."

Her lips parted, eyes popping open in their curiosity and surprise. Maybe it was a lot, maybe she was moving too face, because surely the woman didn't have a friend while she dealt with the trauma that Euron put her through. Amara could understand if Zola didn't trust her, she wouldn't force the woman to. Depending on how long either one of them would be around, it was best to have someone to confide in.

"You don't have to!" She said quickly, trying to rectify things, thinking the silence was a bad thing. "I'm not going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do, Zola."

There still wasn't an answer given. Instead, Zola presented Amara a smile; a big grin, one that kind of lit up the room like it was the source of light in this place. Amara mirrored it, sincerely, as Zola grabbed Amara's small hands in hers. Whether she would eventually want to help Amara for them both to escape or not, Amara wasn't sure, but the first step was the most important one.

...

While he was in Riverrun, he thought his mind had gone half crazy. He knew she was gone and yet it hadn't stopped him from lingering at places he would always find her. Whether it been the bedchamber she used, where his mind manipulated an image of her lying in bed asleep or at her desk, reading or filling more blank pages to her medical journal. Sometimes he would make his way to the Godswood day or night, visions coming to him of her standing in the middle of the airy garden to take in the smell of the flowers or gaze hopelessly at the moon. The last place would be the infirmary, a silhouette of her smiling as she worked or talking and joking with the patients to give the men reason to smile to endure their pain. Every time they caught sight of him, they often asked him about her and he was always unsure of what to say. He didn't know where she was or how she was doing or if she was alive or not.

The search party that Robb organized left yesterday morn and that hadn't relieved him in the slightest. Jon wanted to join them but Robb wouldn't let him, saying he needed him at Golden Tooth. He halfway wanted to tell him that he didn't care about the Lannisters anymore. That would've been a lie since he truly still wanted to put an end to them. He also knew Amara would advise against giving up, especially if it was all for her.

"My prince," Jon knew he could never get used to that. The whole formality of it made him cringe slightly, but yet he kept a calm face and never outwardly showed his odd disapproval of it. He eyed Dacey, giving her his full attention. "We're going to start the column, you will ride next to the king, yes?"

He wasn't going to get used to this either. Being called prince was a little unsettling, almost like it didn't really belong to him. It truly didn't, he wasn't Robb's true-brother. Sometimes he wanted to tell Robb that maybe this was wrong. Robb's mind couldn't be changed though. Once he set his mind to something, you couldn't persuade

"I will, I just needed some time to think. Thank you, Lady Dacey." His head moved in a sluggish nod, showing how out of focus he was again. She kept her eyes on him for several more minutes before turning her steed and meeting with the others.

Jon looked down at Red Hare, who had been a little calmer than usual. Maybe he could sense his sadness? Ghost did and even had some sadness of his own. The white wolf whined often and slept in Amara's bed during their short stay in Riverrun. It was like he was looking for her, wanting to be around the places that still held whiffs of her scent. He felt himself jealous since he couldn't smell it himself, he had to remember how she smelled from memory.

Speaking of Ghost, he was lying down on his belly next to Grey Wind, who would nudge him to encourage him to move. Ghost's eyes stayed glued to the direction of the West, looking out to where only the Gods know. Maybe he sensed her or maybe he just knew of the direction they would be going. How does one know what goes on in a wolf's mind?

With a light squeeze to Red Hare's sides, the horse went into a lope towards Robb. Greatjon was taking a swift of his wine from his gourd, looking every bit as bored. From the way he looked, Jon could tell he missed the healer's too. They got on unusually well, and Jon still seemed surprised that Amara found his antics entertaining. Umber would leave her laughing to tears and also struggling to appear like a proper woman in front of Lady Stark. Her sense of humor was questionable to many lords and ladies, but Jon favored her lack of embarrassment to dirty and sometimes violent jokes.

The ride to Golden Tooth was quiet and he couldn't say that he hated it. It left him to think, allowing him trying to calm himself and prepare for the battles to come. Stafford Lannister wasn't a very seasoned warrior with a reputation that overhyped his might. He was still a Lannister, and a lion should never be underestimated. A wolf tries to understand his enemy, knowing that its enemy is capable of anything.

"They'll find her."

Robb's voice had him turn to face him, his grey eyes opening a little wider at what he said. Jon didn't want his worry to be painfully obvious, he knew Robb had enough to think about. And even if his brother didn't want to admit it, he was worried about her himself. "I know." He had his doubts but he wasn't going to tell Robb that.

"You know or you're just saying that to appease me?" The corner of his lips lifted, Jon returning the half-smile with one of his own.

"You know me well." The conversation didn't prolong, and surprisingly their own short conversation made it easier to breathe. The other lords and ladies decided to have a conversation of their own, and the usual argument between Maege and Greatjon went on.

"Lord Jason hasn't returned to us yet." Theon spoke up, "Why is that? He hasn't brought news of my Father."

Jon's brows furrowed, taking on a questioning look. "Strange, we should've gotten word from him. He should've came to Riverrun days before we did."

Robb set his jaw, "Lord Balon rejected to join hands, but Lord Mallister has told me he was going to stay in Seagard for a bit longer. He said he there's something going on at the Pyke and he wants to know of it. He believes it important."

"Lord Balon is up to something you mean?" Jon asked, wondering what it could be himself? Balon was only king but a short time, surely he wanted to be king again? Robb was going to give him a crown, that were the words he written in his letter for alliance, but why hadn't Jon thought about it so thoroughly. "We pay the iron price, never the gold." Balon might've wanted his crown by his own terms, by taking it; the iron price.

"If my father isn't so foolish, he'll take the gold. He was only king for a sunrise." It was nearly scary how Theon's words matched his own thoughts. Jon wanted to shake his head, to rid the idea that Balon was foolish enough to want to fight them. If he would not join them, could that mean he'll stay still? That was a dumb thought, Jon reasoned. Lord Balon must be itching to move, and that made Jon worry.

"Whatever the old seacrab plans to do, we surely should keep ourselves sharp." said Prince Oberyn, his dark eyes glittering rather dangerously. "He has a massive fleet, bigger than ours could ever be, and we would be complete fools to meet him out at sea."

He spoke no lie with that, fighting Balon in his element was stupid. Jon glanced to Theon, who looked deep in thought with a frown. Even if he and the Greyjoy heir weren't close, argued by the constant, he wondered just how he would feel going up against his father? Would he turn or would he stay? If they defeated Balon by some off chance, they could let Theon have the Iron Islands. He can do with it what he wanted, they didn't care. Theon and power sounded rather bad, terrible actually, but it was his by right. Nobody could stop him from claiming the Pyke, Robb might even encourage it.

Greatjon breathed through his nose to let out a harsh sound. It sounded stronger than a snort, but Jon was sure that's what it was meant to be. "If you think I'll be cautious over that old fart then you must be jesting. He can't stay in the sea forever."

The Wolf King gave a smile to his champion's enthusiasm but said nothing. Robb wasn't so optimistic to think that Balon wasn't stubborn enough to not drag out a battle that way. "What will you do, Lord Umber? Take a little boat and go fight him head on?" Oberyn was curious, smirking with hands lazily loose on the reins.

"I have half a mind to do just that, Martell." Fearless as ever, nothing could deter Greatjon from a fight; not a giant nor a fleet of seven thou-strong, mountains or a blizzard. If Greatjon had the will, he would certainly make the way.

"Save that for the Wildlings." Maege sneered as she said the name of the free fol. "I hear they are causing their own stir, and we'll have to deal with them too. Not only are these self-righteous bungehole lions and squid king is in our way, but these Wildlings present themselves. I'm tired of the whole lot of them."

It seemed as if they had an enemy at every corner. It was the Watch that was suppose to deal with these Wildlings, but some of them made their way south of the wall somehow. Jon thought that maybe he could go and see what was happening in castle black, as their uncle on why the Wildlings were growing large in number and if there was anything they could do.

"Wildlings, now they give ya a fight." Guzzling down more of his red drink, Greatjon smeared dried wine on his lips, nearly making them red. "I'll fight 'em if nobody else ain't so willing."

"You think you can solve even the simplest of problems with your dumb, big fists." Rolling her eyes, Lady Mormont pushed some of her hair away from her face, "I guess anything that has to deal with your head is much harder for the likes of you."

"You can keep your silly, little mind games." He waved his hand dismissively, practically proving that he cared for a fight than the strategy. "I have no time nor the patience for them."

The darkness soon came, like a thief, robbing all of them of daylight and giving them only night. There were twinkling stars were lighting up the sky as usual, but there was no moon tonight. Jon thought it fitting, not wanting to see it because it served as a reminder of what Amara loved to gaze on, especially since he was forced to say outside with the men. They all sat by a by the large fire, that crackled and snaps at the wood made to keep it going. It danced like it was alive, swaying with the wind that came that wasn't strong enough to put it out.

By the fire was Prince Oberyn, laying on the grass with a gourd of wine with his dark eyes reflecting the fire. Smalljon was sitting there as well with Torrhen and Eddard, who glanced at Lady Dara's way every now and again. Jon rose a brow but couldn't help but to stifle a laugh, he should've known that they would be eyeing her. She was one of the few women here, pretty and all. She hadn't noticed their stares though, too busy engaged with Lady Dacey and stitching. It seemed so strange to see a girl wearing chainmail, breeches, and armor with needle and cloth to stitch, and it reminded him of Arya except she wouldn't have been so willing. It would've been forced upon her, but he was sure Arya wouldn't mind if she was allowed to fight afterward.

Jon missed her greatly, just wondering where his little sister had gone. How does a girl so young get herself missing without a trace? Not a whisper or an eye to speak or catch of her. It was like she had made herself the wind and went to a place unknown. The search party should've been for her too, but Arya was lost longer than Amara was. She had been gone for months, somehow escaping Joffrey. Amara had been missing for at least a good few weeks.

"Is your face always so sullen? Why ruin such a pretty face, Prince Stark?" The Martell prince brought him out of his thoughts, all so he could frown. Pretty, how often had he heard that. It was a bit embarrassing to be called that. They never called his father or his brother pretty. They were manly men, but he was the pretty one. "He's about as pretty as my own daughters. He might just be as pretty as my niece!"

Torrhen and Eddard burst out in a fit of laughter while their friend wasn't laughing nor amused. "Enough." He eventually told them with a glare, growing tired and irate of hearing them.

"You still never answered my question," Persistent as usual, the Dornish could never be put a hold, "Why so sullen?" It seemed like he wouldn't be able to escape the question, even Lady Dacey and Dara looked at him with curiosity along with Torrhen, Eddard, and Smalljon. Dara tried to hide inquisitiveness by staring at his feet than boldly at his face like Dacey.

"That's just how my face is." He rarely smiled, Jon could admit that much. There was nothing to smile for really, especially back in Winterfell and being raised as he was. He found a newer reason to and he didn't want to get into that.

"No, no." Wagging his bony finger, he shook his head in the same speed. "You were just," Pinching his fingers together, he squinted for effect, "a little happier than that in Dorne."

Eddard glanced at him, almost wondering if this conversation was making him uncomfortable. It was, but Jon didn't like to be seen as bothered or weak. He didn't want anyone feeling the need to rescue him either. How could he go about it? He could hardly think of a proper response in time.

"I'm fine." It came out a little harsh, he stressed it a little too much. Now he seemed like a liar to which he was because what he was doing was indeed lying.

"Oh, you are fine indeed, Stark. That was nearly believable." The Dornish prince raised his brows, eyes squinting skeptically. "The girl they're searching for, was she your lady friend? Ever since news of her disappearance came, you've changed."

He wasn't sure why Oberyn even cared or noticed the change in his behavior. He wasn't sure how much of difference was so obvious to him and he halfway didn't want to talk about her to him. He heaved out a sigh, giving a slight shake of his head. "She's not my friend."

"So she is your lover?" He corrected himself, and Jon wasn't sure if he should allow him to call her that either. Maybe friend was a much more suitable word, but they almost kissed and he loved her. That made her something more, like an almost-lover. A little more than just a friend.

"Something like that." Jon settled. Torrhen smiled knowingly, almost shocked that Jon finally admitted it out in the open. Eddard, however, was shocked as Dacey was fighting not to smugly smile all on her own. Smalljon was even more surprised, like someone told him that the blue-eyed giant Old Nan told them about was real.

The Red Viper gave him a rather sad smile, almost like he pitied him. Jon didn't want his pity, but he felt grateful that someone would want to give him that much. "Is she why you fought so hard?"

Was Amara the reason why he fought? He quickly thought no. He didn't think of her during that Battle of Whispering Woods or the camps. He thought about his father, he thought about protecting Torrhen and Eddard, protecting Robb, and he thought about beating the Kingslayer in a battle of the blades. Not once did he think of her then.

"She's the reason why I'm at Robb's side and not at the Wall." He admitted with a minuscule smile, almost wondering just how things would've been at Castle Black. How much would've changed if she hadn't convinced him, tear-faced and weak. What would he being doing? Would he have finally become a ranger and taken the oath?

"Then what makes her so special that you're losing your wits?"

It startled him, the question that is. Her image came to the forefront of his mind as quick as the crackle of the fire, "She needed me." He gave him an answer so simply, "No one has ever needed me before, so I wanted to live up to that."

Oberyn seemed satisfied by the answer. The way he smiled made him curious, but he didn't dare ask. Silence lingered just a little before Dara's eyes finally drew themselves to look at him, "Why did you want to go to the Wall? I hear it is so desolate and filled with the strangest and cruelest of men. Why would someone like you be so willing?"

Why did everyone want to hear his life story and even his love life? That is what he really wanted to ask. All of them were looking at him, questions in their eyes, and their ears big for answers. Jon never liked talking about himself or his feelings. It was uncomfortable. "Before I was Jon Stark, I was Jon Snow. Bastards here are not treated as they are in Dorne."

The Dayne girl quickly looked apologetic, but before the apology could leave her lips, Jon gave her an understanding look that eased her. "I suppose Robb is rather grateful to her, who I hear is an excellent healer as well." Oberyn took over the conversation again, rescuing them from the awkward silence that was nearly born.

"She is." Torrhen spoke up, "She stitched me good, a little bit stern while she did, but I never had a wound heal as fast. Many of the soldiers are fond of her, she gave them hope to keep limbs they were sure was gonna be taken from 'em."

"I'd like to meet her, and hopefully soon." Oberyn smiled, drinking some of his wine. "Pretty women and pretty boys are good to have in war."

"Is that all you think about, my prince?" Dara told him with her eyes staring at him from her corners, "To lay with whoever catches your eye?"

The Red Viper snickered, hand laying over his stomach as he lied down on the grassy ground and looked up at the stars. "Why not? I'd be craven if I didn't."

"That's why you have so many children." She sighed, shaking her heads before letting her eyes focus on her embroidery hoop.

"Just what are you making, Lady Dara?" Eddard question, voice a bit shaky from nerves.

Her violet eyes kept to her stitching, but she gave him an answer. "I'm going to stitch our king a handkerchief."

"Besotted with the king are you?" Dacey's lifted her brows, halfway amused.

"I am not besotted with the king, Dacey." Jon hardly believed her, she said that a little too quickly and with a little spice. She tried to control her nervous expression and accidentally pricked herself in the process, "I just think he needs a little luck. Everyone needs a little luck is all."

"Besotted." The Mormont girl sighed, rolling her emerald hues. It was clear as day that Dara Dayne may have thought of the king highly like a girl smitten. It might've not been love, it might've been pure admiration. At least, that's how it seemed to Jon.

Eddard lowered his head in defeat, all hopes he had of stealing her attention was undoubtedly overshadowed by Robb. Jon had been in shoes before, and he clearly needed to give him a talk later.

Seeing as he could escape from them now without being pursued, he took a walk to clear his head.

...

"Do you think the sky is the same all over?"

The question was sweet, innocent even. Sometimes Zola could be so fierce but then she would shrink down to a curious little girl with a thirst for knowledge. It always made Amara smile, she enjoyed her curiosity. In ways it reminded her of Arya, Austin, and Bran. Those three were always eager to learn, but only about subjects that interested them. Her heart ached just a little more, imaging their faces with their eyes big and their ears open to soak in every word that they heard. It made her miss Arya just a little more seeing as she hadn't seen the girl since she left for Winterfell all the months ago. Now she was missing and alone.

She couldn't let the gap of silence linger, knowing she had to answer Zola's question. Amara pried her lips apart, the corner of her lips tugged upward. "I imagine it is. I'm sure if it is night here then it should be night everywhere. The same dark sky, the same stars, and the same moon."

Her eyes wandered to every object before her as she sat in the chair, feeling Zola's nimble fingers weaving through her hair. She wasn't sure what design the Lys-born girl was going for and she hadn't really cared despite not all too fond of intricate hairstyles that would have to be undone later on. It was just for fun now seeing as it was night and they didn't have to appear anywhere.

"There is no moon today." It disappointed her just a little. She would have nothing to gaze at if she bothered to look out the window today when Zola left. "The say a when the moon goes away, it means that there is a new beginning to come."

A new beginning? To what? What was going to begin? It was unsettling since for them, this something new would be here at the Pyke. If only this new beginning was a world without war, without Euron, and her being able to go back to Winterfell. If only this new beginning was a reverse of time where she stood beneath the branches and leaves of the weirwood tree, staring up at Jon's smiling face with the echoes of Austin and Bran's laughter in the distance. All the while Robb was but a young lord smiling and weightless shoulders, Theon shooting his arrows with his overwhelming ego every time he hit his target, and Lord and Lady Stark smiling and happy with the direwolves running around his boots and her skirts.

If only a new beginning was an old one with a different ending to call it new. Amara wanted to pray that it would come true, even though she knew it would never happen. She was smarter than that, realizing how cruel the world could be. It can be crueler, she could be dead and wouldn't be allowed to have hopes and dreams, but it was still cruel nonetheless.

"That doesn't sound like a good thing to me." The healer practically mumbled.

Zola didn't sound so defeated, she in fact sounded hopeful. "It could mean a new start for us." Her heart ached with the twists of guilt. How many days had Zola wished for change? She was a slave before she met Euron and was still one now. How many times had she hoped to be her own person and not someone's bedwarmer; their property. It was wrong to sound so downtrodden when a fresh start was something Zola could only hope for.

She decided to keep silent, not wanting to ruin her happiness. It would've been cruel if she spoke harsh words and made that happiness disappear while they were together. Zola was her only friend here and the peace she had away from Euron and the distraction from thinking of Jon and Austin. The peace was long since Euron had not came by. In fact, she hadn't saw him since he showed her to this room. Amara only heard whispers of what he was doing since then from the servants that gossiped as they cleaned. Apparently, he was greeted by a rather angry visitor. A spitfire they called them by the name of Asha Greyjoy. The first Greyjoy woman she heard of and had no idea about her except that she hated Euron.

Amara liked her already.

Any enemy of Euron was a friend of hers.

Speaking of Asha, maybe it was best to learn about her from her friend. "Have you heard anything about this Asha, Zola?" Zola had more freedom than she did. At night her door was locked by a key and she was accompanied by saltmen whenever she wanted to walk around the bleak castle. Zola was allowed to go anywhere since Euron wanted her at his bed or by his side for information about what Amara was doing.

His main priority of her sending messages was to find out if Amara ate. She did because of Zola, who watched the cooks with trained eyes, making sure nothing out of the ordinary was added in. It was hard to believe Euron would do that now since he had plans for her. "Unspoiled and healthy" as he once said. He was still unpredictable and she liked to make sure just in case he one day decided to throw her away.

"Asha is his niece." The news made her brows lift, surprised to find out that Theon had a sister. "She wears breeches and chainmail like a man."

Another good thing. That meant the girl was brave and had a skill and mind for battle. If Amara could just find her way to meet her then maybe she could work her way on leaving this island. Of course, Asha might wanted to use her to scheme to end her uncle to which Amara would jump on board with. But what if Asha didn't trust her? That seemed more likely.

"Is she still at Pyke?

Zola nodded, "She is. Do you want to meet her?"

"I do." It would be too much for her to be so eager. This was her one of her golden opportunities of escape and she wasn't sure if another would ever come. "Can you tell her to meet me? By the shoreline where I like to watch the sea."

"Why do you want to meet her?"

"I'm curious of her." It felt wrong to lie but she didn't want Zola to interfere in this. She wasn't willing to risk Zola's life even though she already was by making her set up this meeting. Amara would take the blame and hopefully Zola would be spared. In the end, Amara planned for them to escape together or if things couldn't go that way, she would let Zola get the freedom she deserved. It wouldn't be right, for her to take the freedom for herself when Zola had been trapped for years.

Zola had not questioned her rather strange answer. She seemed to have accepted it for the most part, and for that Amara was glad. "I hope to meet her at sunrise and if that isn't good then sunset. Euron has you locked the door the second hour of the night."

Hopefully the plan would go through. Amara prayed that Asha wasn't another evil Greyjoy; black of heart and filled with poisonous greed like her uncle.

:::

Her feet dipped themselves into the cold waters, making her body shiver in unexpected delight. It reminded her when was smaller, enjoying swimming at the Jade sea or watching the boats sail away from the harbors. The Sunset Sea as she had learned it to be did have the smell of summer that had been gone for quite sometime. Later on, it would be considerably warmer, but with the sun barely over the horizon, so for now it was freezing.

Zola had convinced Asha Greyjoy to meet her and the saltmen that watched her usually found themselves bored when she decided to frolic by the beach. They never strayed too far but their eyes were never on her. It was like they knew she was too stubborn to to drown herself and she ultimately had no other place to go. The ships were docked at another island, purposely or no? Amara had not the slightest clue.

After a few more meetings of the sea against the shoreline, her ear picked up on the sound of someone coming close by. Her blue eyes looked away from her bare and wet feet to meet a pair that reminded her of Theon's. She certainly looked like a girlish version of him; Theon with teats, Robb might say. Her hair was a darkish blond, the top half-pulled back from her face. She was fair-skinned and wore armor like Zola had said, her face made her looked to be season with battle.

Asha was quiet, climbing her way over the rocks until she was right next to her. She then peered her eyes out at the sea and Amara did the same. "I'm grateful you have come to meet me, Princess." Euron might've taken the throne but Asha was still princess by right. If Asha had things her way, she probably would've been queen most likely.

"I was curious." There was a smirk to her reply.

'She a lot like Theon.' The healer thought, 'Almost too much like him.' And she was hoping that there was a stark contrast soon enough. "What made you so curious?"

"What would my uncle's whore want with me?" That hadn't surprised her, but it did anger her. "I have nothing to offer you and I surely do not intend to sleep with you."

"I'm no whore," Her voice was calm like the sea before them, "at least I'm not now. He plans to make me a wife, a salt-one. I might just carry your ironborn nephew if he has his way."

That seemed to have worked because Asha visibly stiffened at that. The last she needed was her uncle to make a heir and cement his claim to the throne. "Then what is it that you want?"

"I want you to help me escape." Inhaling deeply, she wondered if this was truly going to work. "Me and my handmaiden Zola. I want us to be free."

"And anger my uncle?" She didn't even seem afraid of that. Amara knew just what she was going to say next, "And what am I to get out of it other than him on my back with his sword sharp and ready?"

"I could've offered you an alliance with King Robb Stark," Amused, the Greyjoy girl rose a brow, "but you took Deepwood Motte and he'll want your head unless you give him Lady Glover and her children and surrender it. Whether he'll want to aid you for the seastone chair… I don't know unless you allow me to convince him to keep you alive and not imprisoned."

At least she considered it from what Amara could tell. Asha looked at her from the corner of her eyes, contemplating her decision. "You make a point, but I pay the iron price."

"You'll die trying to pay it if you fight your uncle. Tell me, who sides with you over him? Is your Uncle Victarion even at your side? Would you rather 35,000 thousand Northern with another five thousand that choose to join him along the way with the addition of 20,000 Rivermen with another ten thousand gathering to join him as well. Alas not forget the Dornish that joined with him just recently. I'm sure the number is great, Dorne ought to be thinking highly of him for what he did for them. Do you still choose to fight all of that for the sake of the iron?"

Amara wasn't even sure if the Dornish agreed to help them. It did help the numbers go high and she was every sort of grateful that Lady Catelyn brought her along with the rather boring meetings. Robb did not have 35,000 men marching with him and five thousand others wishing to join him. That other five thousand men were the Crannogmen who would protect the Neck for him, Robb only had 20,000 Northerns while 15,000 others were yet to decide to join him in war. Walder Frey had not given him all his men either. He would wait until a marriage came to be. The ten thousand others from the Riverlands? They were cowards, fearing every since Tywin came to be in Harrenhal with his sellswords. Robb only had 20,000 men and 15,000 Rivermen by now since she's been gone. The numbers were exaggerated only to scare Asha.

"And how do you know all of this?" Asha inquired, "Are you a spy for the Starks?"

"I am a healer for them." She said simply, "I am very close to the family and I am sure they might notice that I am missing right now. I know your brother, though I doubt he is worried for me, but I think he might've heard news about your father by now. I wonder, Robb might just think him worthy for the seastone chair over you and back him. Surely, the last thing you ironborn want is someone that you haven't seen for years ruling you all."

She stumbled a bit, a sense of longing in her. "Theon… Theon is still with him?"

"At his side. They are tied to each other like brothers." Knowing how it felt to be apart from a sibling for long, Amara let her hard visage loosen for a bit of sympathy. "You two look alike. From the eyes and the hair, and from that look you're giving me now... I see Theon in you and you in him."

She scoffed but smirked nonetheless. All the while serving to remind Amara of Theon yet again, "I'll think about your offer. It might just be my only choice."

"I'll be waiting but I hope you decided before Lord Victarion shows. I doubt I'll be so free then." Asha said nothing else but turned and left, leaving in the direction of which she came.

Amara could only hope her planned worked. Her eyes looked back out at the sea, seeing traces of what was Seagard from here. She was so close and yet she felt to be so far. Before she could turn and walk away, her eyes caught sight of a flower she thought to never see for a long time. It instantly brightened her mood, making her hurry her way over before kneeling before. A single blue, Winter Rose was in full bloom. A winter flower blooming in the Autumn without being in the North? How strange.

The blue, Winter Rose was a peculiar flower. It came alive in a breezy and inactive season outside the glass gardens. It had the ability to live in the Winter and prepares itself for it beforehand. Its green and thick stem stretched straight out, but the flower that had so beautifully bloomed at its end calmly casts its head down rather shyly. Despite it being a rose, it was not too assertive and not imperious like its red counterpart. It reminded her of Jon.

It was this flower that brought them together in discovering Arya's cure and also helped blossomed their friendship. She pressed her nose against it, its subtle smell and delicate yet dignified appeared reminding her greatly of the one she loved across the sea.

Amara tried to hold back her tears like a dam does to a river. The river was starting to overflow, slipping through the cracks of the dam before it eventually broke and the pearl-shaped, salty droplets let themselves pour. From her mouth came a cry so raw, she was so grateful that the sea could muffle the sound and not alert the saltmen. It was as if all the pain she tried to sew into herself was being loosened by the threads of her misery.

---

A/N: I always felt bad for the Dusky woman. She has it rough.