A/N: Oh yeah, 67 followers. Nice. Also, some really great reviews.
To The Wall
Gendry
As soon as it starts, he breaks away from the kiss. Bile flavor burning in his mouth.
"I didn't feel anything." He whispers, sour breath against her face. Kahlen registers surprise on her round face, almond eyes wide. He shoves her away and stumbles out into the hall.
Maybe Arya wouldn't have cared, maybe she would want a true Baratheon heir. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't be with a woman like that. Through the drunken blur, he might be able to pretend Kahlen was Arya; but in point of fact, the devious bitch reminded him more of Melisandre.
Instead of getting a few hours of sleep, he'd opted to stay awake, knowing these would be his last few hours at Storm's End. This was the happiest he had ever been, for a short time anyway, before it had come unraveled so easily.
He spent the time by the shore, in the secluded spot where he and Arya had once swam and later made love in the sand. He stayed to watch the sunrise and say goodbye, possibly forever, not just to his home, but also to this life.
The one upside to his lack of sleep, he was up before everyone else. However, his head was still pounding, muscles weary, and throat dry. Rather than go back inside and risk running into his wife, he slips into the soldiers' tents for some water. They don't notice him at first, so he was able to quench his thirst and splash some cold water on himself, which went a long way towards making him feel human again.
"My Lord." He hears from behind him. On instinct he turns around, expecting his uncle, but it's him they're addressing. Oh, they meant him.
Upon finally recognizing him, the rest straighten their spines and stand at attention. They all call him 'My Lord' without a hint of irony or resentment. He recognized some from his time among them, not friends exactly, but good men. Those he knew, he asked after; catching up a bit on all the details of their lives since last they'd spoken. Except for a twist of fate, he would be one of them now; he felt no different than any one of them. No one was treating him any differently, as though they hadn't heard about the scandal of last night. Was it possible?
"Men! Attention!" He hears outside, it's Stannis calling them all to order.
They file out, lining up in formation, prepared for the continuation of the journey. Gendry could say one thing about his uncle, he kept his men disciplined and in excellent fighting formation.
Behind the tent flap, he watched Arya come out, dressed in her black leather pants and fitted tunic. She was back to her true self, no more dresses or elaborate hairstyles, just herself. She marched through the field looking like a lady, albeit a very different sort of lady. He'd always been in awe, and he was no less drawn to her now. Watching her as if he didn't know her, from an objective standpoint, it was like seeing her anew. Arya did have a presence about her, one that made you take notice.
From what he can see through the gaps between the men, he watches her hug Shireen goodbye; both of them whispering to each other. He didn't begrudge them that, their closeness.
Next he watches Elwin bow to his wife, she gives a little joke curtsy in response. He can see mutual respect.
Off to the side, Stannis is saying goodbye to Shireen, a stiff hug, and an awkward pat on the back. However, he detects a warm look on the old goat's face, or as warm as he's capable of. His uncle does love Shireen, in his way, but how could he not?
The goodbye from Ser Davos is much more emotional, with tearful smiles between him and the girl. Davos was always the better man, the better father. He stood in for Stannis where need be; and Gendry was thankful for it.
Gendry decides he's put off his own goodbyes long enough.
He's stopped by a sobbing voice, startled out of his thoughts. It's Marta, looking miserable at his departure.
"I'll miss you, Milord. You were such a good lord." He can't help but smile at her sentiment, the pudgy woman a comforting presence. He will miss her too.
"Thank you, Marta. And please, it's Gendry." She lets out an extra loud cry, and hugs him; a good grip on her. He makes her promise to keep Kahlen from Shireen and she swears she will, before going back in.
His own goodbye from Shireen is upsetting; he would miss the little thing more than he ought. Tiny, but fierce, a bit like Arya if truth be told. She even dressed in pants now.
"When we're done at The Wall, we'll get back to Winterfell. You'll have to come see us."
"I want to, but... Gendry, I meant what I said. There must always be a Baratheon at Storm's End. I can't leave." Her words are disappointing.
"I understand. But Shireen, I will miss you. You're family, my only family."
"And we always will be. No amount of distance will change that. And we can always write. I expect you to write, I know you can now." She scolds him teasingly.
"I will, I promise. Just promise you will take care of yourself, so I don't worry."
"I promise. And you promise the same. I love Arya, I think her family as well. But you're blood. And this whole thing with Kahlen..."
"It's a lie Shireen, I swear it. I would never." He starts to defend himself.
"Oh I know. She's a devious schemer, sure enough. I've known her for years, don't forget." Of course. It was still weird to discuss this with his twelve year old cousin, but as usual, she possessed a unique perspective.
"Arya knows too, or at least she says she does. I'm not even sure she cares either way." He admits, voicing one of his biggest fears.
"She does know, but she's insistent. She thinks it's somehow less shameful if she pretends it was her idea all along. I understand the strategy, but I don't agree with it. By conceding she lets Kahlen win and tarnishes both of your reputations. It doesn't make sense, it doesn't sound like her." She's thoughtful, his cousin. And right.
"There's more. Melisandre told her she couldn't have children. I know she's worried about that too in the back of her mind." He confides, wanting her opinion on that more than anything.
"Oh yes. That does make sense. Melisandre can be quite manipulative. She convinced my mother to let her own brother be burned at the stake. I thought Arya was smarter than that though."
"She's just proud is all." He defends automatically, though actually he agrees with everything she's said. Shireen chuckles in response.
"Funny, that's what she said about you." Was he? Supposedly so, but not half so much as his strong-willed wife.
"And yet she's asked me to put my name to this, to claim the child, to lie to the world and let them believe I'm just like my father. How could she ask this of me? I can't quite wrap my mind around it."
"Then don't."
"What? But, the contract, the promise..."
"I know you love her, and she you; but she's not thinking clearly. You know it's wrong in your heart. Whatever you decide, you'll have to deal with the consequences for the rest of your life. Can you live with this?" He doesn't have an answer. "Just think about it. Nothing's yet been done that cannot be undone. And I'll do what I can from here."
"No, I don't want you to put yourself in any danger."
"I won't, but I'll get to the truth of it, some proof, something to clear your name. Gendry, I promise." She seems so much older in that instant, her promise so sincere. He believes her.
"Thank you, Shireen. I love you." They embrace for quite some time, one of the hardest goodbyes he's yet had to survive through. Insightful Shireen, who sees things he doesn't want to. She whispers that she loves him too, and his chest squeezes; he had no idea how much he'd needed to hear those words back.
Despite himself, his gaze is drawn back to Arya. She was watching them, but wasn't embarrassed for it, sad maybe; she holds his gaze. Neither knows what to say, and neither makes a move towards the other.
And just like that, it's time to head off. Naturally, they divide into groups. Arya and Merilee. Stannis and Ser Davos. And Gendry and his men; Lommy, Hot Pie, Brent, Rik, and Begby. The rows and rows of men trailing behind.
"You don't look too good, Gendry. I don't think drinking agrees with you." Brent jokes.
"Yeah, you sure you're alive? You don't quite look like a person." Rik teases. He can't be mad though, he deserves much worse for his bratty behavior the night before.
"Yeah yeah, have a good laugh. Believe me, I'm feeling it now." He answers.
"No one's laughing, Gendry. You've been through the wringer, everyone knows that." Rik says.
"She's ruined everything. You should have let me kill her." Lommy says.
"So loyal, Lommy. You'd never keep anything from me. Never lie." Gendry says sarcastically. He's still thinking over Shireen's advice, and feels less than charitable with any form of deceit.
"I was helping you. Arya needed me, so…"
"She needed you?"
"Aye."
"Since when? I remember a time when you hated her."
"I did, but, she grew on me." He could believe that well enough.
"You lied to my face."
"We meant well, Gendry. You know that." Gendry sighs.
"I do. It doesn't make it alright."
"Are you angry about the lying or the trying to help you part?" He clarifies.
"Both! I'm not helpless. And I don't need you plotting behind my back. Working together to keep me in the dark."
"That's not how it was. It wasn't just you we were helping, but Storm's End, the people."
"Right, the greater good. Why would you need me at all for that? They're only my people. I'd only get in the way, right?"
"No. It was just easier, that's all. It seemed, quicker. She just wanted to fix it before you even need know of it."
"Yeah well, I know now. And it feels like shit to be lied to. She didn't even consider me in all this." Though, to be fair, he's thinking about more than just Evanfall.
"She always puts duty first, over everything. It's her way." The others signal Lommy to stop talking.
"You think?" Gendry asks sarcastically.
"Okay, how about this. The duty, the sense of sacrifice- it's who she is. Who she's always been, and who she always will be. It seems to me like you knew that already. Why would you hold that against her?" He doesn't have an answer to that. That's who Arya is, who she's always been. He'd known that from the first. And loved her for it. But it was different when she put everyone else before him.
"Shut up."
"As you say, My Lord." Lommy taunts. He's never actually seen Lommy angry with him; it's surprisingly uncomfortable. He was used to the man's unwavering support.
"Maybe you're right. But so am I. If I've learned anything from all this, it's that hiding truths destroys everything. If you don't know everything, you can't fix it."
"True enough." Lommy concedes.
"The truth only from now on." Gendry declares, a new peace between them.
"Do you mean that?"
"Of course. I just said so, didn't I?"
"Yeah but, even if you don't want to hear it?"
"Especially then."
"Okay, then there's something I've wanted to tell you. For a while now, but I didn't know how." He looks nervous.
"Fuck me. What now?"
"Forget it." Lommy loses his nerve.
"No, no. Just say it. Better to hear it now." Gendry does mean it, but he prepares himself for an imagined blow.
"I… I don't want a wife, a woman I mean. I have different interests. I'm like your uncle Renly, I…" Gendry lets out a big rush of air, relieved. That's all?
"Yeah, I know Lommy." The look on his face is priceless, utter shock.
"You do? Why didn't you say anything?" Hot Pie just shrugs. He notices Brent is particularly intent.
"I didn't know it was a secret. I thought if you wanted to talk about it, you would."
"And you don't… mind? You don't… care?" He's looking down.
"Why would I? You're my friend, man. Who you fancy is none of my concern."
Lommy chuckles. He seems different, he looks as young as he actually is for once. His admission a weight off his soul.
"Anything else?" Gendry asks, in a bit better spirits despite himself. It's Hot Pie who answers.
"I… one time, at The Inn, we ran out of pigeon. I just used rat and nobody knew the difference. I'm sorry, I…" Hot Pie says.
They all start laughing, feeling their guts ache and water leak from their eyes; much of the pressure off.
The pace is very very slow; so many men, and so many supplies. But he's not in a rush exactly. Some paths are destined it seems. He'd set out for The Night's Watch some time ago, and he'd gone off course; far off course. But fate was bringing him back.
When they set up for the night, there are better tents for the nobles; himself included. Well, he's meant to share with Arya, but he preferred to sleep beneath the stars with the men; less complicated that way, and they welcome his presence. His mind still too full of thoughts.
And yet, late at night, when it's full-dark, he feels a soft body slide beside him. He's foggy with sleep, and he thinks it's another nightmare of Melisandre. Though there's no blood, no fear. In the morning he's alone, not sure what he remembers. After a few more nights, he comes to see the truth. It's Arya, cuddling up beside him. The smart thing, the strong thing would have been to send her away. But bleary eyed, exhausted from riding, he only wraps his arms around her as he'd done so many times before. And he does sleep better than he would otherwise. Their combined body heat chasing away the bitter cold.
They do this same dance night after night. He expects it, looks forward to it; but he never initiates it. It has to be her. She says nothing though, and he can't find it in him to bring it up himself. They both just pretend.
It's after some time on the road, close to The Wall, that Stannis requests Gendry join him for supper in his tent.
"Gendry, Boy, I feel you've been avoiding me." There's a nice set up, rabbit, carrots, wine which he won't touch, and some kind of honeyed fruit.
"I've been traveling with you this whole time, and only now have you invited me in for a chat. Whose avoiding who?"
"I noticed some tension between you and…" He cuts him off.
"Don't! I don't want your opinion on Me and Arya. You've done enough damage."
"Me? I didn't fuck that serving girl." He cuts into his meat.
"Neither did I." This statement surprises his uncle.
"Excuse me?"
"You just took her word for it. She made a scene, and you didn't even question it. So sure I'm my father." Gendry angrily spears a carrot.
"But you agreed."
"Arya forced my hand, so desperate for those men. Her duty, The North, The Wall, that's all that matters to her. All that ever mattered." Stannis is silent only for a moment.
"That sounds like her." Gendry snorts in agreement. "You should have told me so."
"As if you'd believe me."
"I might have. But as it happens, I was already headed to The Wall."
"What?!" Gendry drops his own knife and fork with a loud clink on the plate.
"Melisandre had a vision. She left for The Wall weeks ago. I always meant to meet up with her."
"Seriously?" He's furious, he's even contemplating bashing his uncle's face into the corner of the table.
"Yes. The urgent plea for help from The Lord Commander sealed the deal." A letter from The Watch. Of course, Arya must have seen it or known somehow. That explained her insistence, her desperation. "I don't know if I believe in Others or what have you; but I can't afford to turn a blind eye. I meant to be King, I'm still not sure I shouldn't be; but that means I have a responsibility to The Realm. That includes threats from North of The Wall." Gendry wants to laugh and cry both. Stannis always meant to head to The Wall. All these sacrifices were for nothing. He's irrationally angry more than anything.
"For The Realm, or Melisandre?" He gets in a dig.
"Watch it, Boy."
"I will not. I owe you nothing."
"Not even respect?"
"For making me miserable? For interfering in my marriage? No, Uncle; I don't respect you much."
"I gave you your name, your title, and your wife. That deserves a thank you at least."
"You gave me nothing. Danaerys backed you into a corner. Don't pretend you had any say." Stannis regards him with interest.
"You've some bite in you. When did that happen?"
"Maybe around the time your meddling put just enough pressure on my marriage to collapse it. I no longer care what you think of me, and you can go to hell for all I care." Gendry gets up to leave.
"Wait, please." And it's a request, not an order, so he does. "That was never my intent." Stannis confesses.
"Doesn't matter much after the fact, now does it?"
"Listen, Boy. I'm trying to apologize." The shock of that statement doesn't lessen his anger.
"You can start by not calling me Boy."
"See, that's what I wanted, Gendry. I needed you to be a Baratheon, a real one; not a sniveling coward." Gendry bangs his fist on the table, causing the whole thing to shake.
"You're insulting me now? Not much of an apology."
"You were a boy, Gendry. You know it's true. Wouldn't look anyone in the eye, ready to follow orders a little too easily. You believed you were nothing more than a bastard, and so you were. It's not to do with clothes or courtesy, it's how you hold yourself, what you stand for. But you're a man now, I can see that. I guess I have the wolf to thank for that, she came through. A Baratheon heir, it's all I wanted. And I have it before me." Gendry feels choked up.
"Then why did you make me go through all of this? Why did you keep testing me, inspecting me?"
"I was waiting for you to tell me to go fuck myself. And you have. Wall or no, child or no; I would have given you what was promised. You've more than proven yourself to me. Ours is the Fury." Acceptance, respect. He'd wanted it so badly for so long. But it didn't mean as much as he thought it would. So much trouble, so much pain. And now his life was in a shambles.
"Like I said, I won't thank you for it." Stannis smiles.
"No, I wouldn't expect so. But I did want to offer you something. You say the girl is lying, I'll believe you. I'll void the contract." He nearly chokes on his rabbit. All of it undone. His reputation, well, that could never be completely clean. But, he could be free of Kahlen, her child, and the murkiness it had caused in his marriage.
"Just like that?"
"It's easy enough, I went to great pains to keep the information limited to those in attendance. The contract is nothing more than a piece of paper, it can be ripped up just as easily. Say the word, and it will be done."
"Yes, I... Thank you."
"Settled then."
"Just don't mention this to Arya, any of it." He requests. Stannis nods with a small smile, understanding the situation all too well.
Gendry finishes his meal companionably, on better terms with his uncle finally. But still, upon leaving, he can't shake his unease, the tension vibrating beneath his skin. The whole thing might be funny if it wasn't so tragic. Arya would most likely set Stannis on fire in retaliation for his mind games. It put things into perspective though. They had scraped for acceptance; when all that was required was a well-timed 'fuck you.' People were strange. Stannis, cold and unfeeling had wanted to be put in his place. Shireen had wanted to be valued. Ser Davos wanted to help others. Kahlen wanted to destroy lives. Lommy had wanted to be accepted for himself. Arya only wanted to avenge her family. And as for Gendry, he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.
At the far outskirts of the camp, he saw his wife. She was too far out, far past the perimeter of the guards, and his first instinct was to scold her for being reckless. But they were past such things now. She was seated at the fork between the roads. One direction went straight to The Wall, the other to Winterfell. She sat there, looking so forlorn and lost that all the distance he felt from her shrunk to nothing. He wanted only to be close to her.
He could see her struggle. She was still so young, trying to do what she thought right above all else. But yet, never sure, always second-guessing. In that moment, despite everything, he could only admire her for trying so hard, for pretending so hard.
He sits down beside her, and he receives a radiant smile in response.
"Hi." She says.
"Hi." He says back. And then they sit in silence, her hand creeping over to his, their fingers just barely touching.
"It's weird." She says.
"What is?"
"So close to Winterfell. So close to home. It smells different. Do you smell that?"
"I, I'm not sure." He says honestly.
"It smells, cold. Clean." Yes, it's cold sure enough. "And I can hear the wolves. They're calling me home. So close, and yet so far." He interweaves his fingers with hers.
"You'll get there. I swear it."
"I will. I know I will. It's been six years. What's a few more weeks, months, years even?"
"It won't come to that." He says.
"Is that a promise?"
"No. I don't make promises I can't keep." She smiles wide at him.
"I'm glad to hear it." She is so beautiful, dark hair braided to the side, grey eyes sparkling beneath the moon. She looks the same as when they first met. "Come with me tonight. To the tent." She requests.
"Okay." He agrees readily. She seems relieved, as if she wasn't sure what his answer would be. There was never a chance he would say no.
It's bare bones, a bed, a trunk, and a little table with a lantern atop it; not that he expected anything less from her. She would have waved away any extra comforts, not when the men had none. It did afford them some privacy though.
"Are you hungry, or do you want anything to drink?" She seems shy with him, and it reminds him of their time at The Peach. It only makes him feel tender towards her, hyper aware of everything.
"No, thank you. I just ate with Stannis."
"Stannis? And what did he have to say?" He thinks about telling her, but it would only complicate things further. Their deal must remain in tact, at least as far ash she was concerned.
"The usual, what it means to be a man or a Baratheon. You can guess." He says instead.
"Why that… ugh! I should go over there right now and tell him to mind his own fucking business." She's furious on his behalf, his she-wolf.
"I already did."
"Did you?" And she calms down. "Good. I'm glad." She seems genuinely proud of him.
"I'm ready to make my request." He says abruptly, surprising himself. Now or never.
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. "Alright then." She bites her lip. "But you needn't use up your request for that." And she starts untying her tunic, a timid smile on her face. He places his hand atop hers, stopping her.
"I appreciate that. I do. But. That's not my request."
"Oh." She seems embarrassed. That was never what he wanted.
"I want you, I always want you." He kisses her clasped hand. "But after I say what I came to say, you may not be so willing." She's suspicious at this, but silent. Ready to let him speak. He thinks their dynamic is already quite different from what it once was.
"Alright, I'm listening." She encourages.
"You're not coming to The Wall. You're going home to Winterfell."
"What?!" Okay, that was more like Arya. He expected this.
"You heard me. That's my request."
Instead of answering, she shoves him in the chest.
"How dare you ask this of me." Another shove, this one hurts.
"You swore. Would you go back on that?"
"You know I won't."
"Good, then it's done." And he turns to walk out. She shoves him again from the back, so hard he nearly falls over. He wasn't surprised before, but the vehemence of her assault surprises him now.
"Don't, don't do this." She pleads.
"The dead walk beyond The Wall, it's dangerous. I'm trying to protect you." He explains patiently.
"Fucking hell you are. This is the one thing, the one thing you cannot do. It's cruel and you know it."
"I don't mean to be. But if this is what it takes…"
"Nothing less would keep me from The Wall."
"But your people need you."
"The men of The Watch are my people too, my responsibility."
"And mine, I promised too. And I'll look for him, Arya, I promise. But you won't be there. To keep you protected, I'll risk you hating me."
"Risk it? You've just ensured it."
"It's done. Come the morning, we'll carry on to The Wall, and you'll head towards Winterfell. I know you're upset, but it could be a blessing too. Winterfell is your home, where you belong." He reasons.
"That's not for you to decide."
"Apparently it is. I just did. And you have to agree, as per our agreement." She pushes him again. Hard.
"I do, but I don't have to like it." Again, he hits the canvas of the tent this time.
"You don't. Hate me if you want, by all means." She slaps him.
"Maybe I do hate you." Another shove, but not as hard.
"Fair enough." She hits him again.
"It's not fair. None of this is fair." She rages.
"I know and…" She hits him again, and before he can come up with a good response she's holding his ears and kissing him.
"Arya…" It's a question more than anything, one met with more touches, more caresses. But they're not gentle, not soft.
It's like a fight, violent, rough. It's like nothing that has ever been between them before. It's needy; full of clawing and scratching. She goes out of her way to mark him. He responds in kind to claim her as his own. It's not loving or gentle, but intense; a new level of intimacy between them. She's angry, he can feel it; the way their bodies crash together and bruise each other.
As usual, he has no illusions that he's in charge; she takes what she needs; equal parts fury and desire. They both find release, so long without, so much time alone, so much pent up tension.
But like their first time, afterwards, she turns away from him, back to him, silent and guarded.
"Arya…" But she's silent, unresponsive. It galls him to the quick. "I stand by my decision. My request. Hate me if you will." He gets up, getting dressed. Still, she says nothing, looking for all the world asleep, though he knows she isn't.
"If you want, I'll go back to Storm's End when it's done. I have people there, people that want me. We can lead separate lives. I'll do whatever you wish. Like always." At her continued silence, he exits into the dark of the night, not able to stand the emptiness of the tent.
At the breaking of the dawn, everyone is ready. He's ready too, he supposes, finally. But as he's about to mount his horse, he becomes aware of the men staring at something behind his back; a lone figure weaving their way through the lines of soldiers.
He looks over to see Arya, clad only in a sheet, half loose braid swinging around her shoulders, striding confidently through the rows of soldiers. He expects her to beg him to let her come, a request for which he might just be powerless to deny beneath the bright oranges and reds of the sky.
But instead, she kisses him; no holds barred, unmindful of their audience. Hundreds of soldiers watching them. She kisses him fully, a current of energy passing between them; her sheet slipping off. He wraps it around her bare shoulders, keeping her decent.
"Just in case." She says out of breath.
"Just in case." He agrees.
They need to leave soon, he knows this. But he's reluctant to leave his wife, the only one who truly knows him. A wife he may never see again. She looks at him, only at him.
"Come back to me." She requests. "Home, to Winterfell, to me." Only in his wildest dreams did he think she would ask this, show her vulnerability. "Please." She begs. As far as he knows, the only time she ever has. She puts her hand in his; there's something rough and scratchy between their palms.
"I will." He promises; too overcome with love for her to say more, to question. She walks back to the tent; sheet wrapped tight, not looking back. Once she's gone, and he's on his horse, he opens his palm to reveal her gift. It's a chunk of hair, bound with leather twine; a token of her favor. He didn't know how to feel. A token such as this, girly, but at the same time, extreme.
"You two seem alright to me." Stannis remarks, making him aware that their very private moment was anything but. Davos gives him a smile and a nod. The men are grinning at him. But none can understand the depths of what the gesture truly meant.
For Arya, this was a serious totem, a true token of her devotion. She wanted him to live, and he would, for her. She couldn't say she loved him, but she could ask him to return, and to return safely. This was the closest confession of love anyone could ever pry from her; and he knew it. This was her way of saying that she wanted him with her, no matter what.
Things might not be perfect between them, but he'd offered to give her more space; and she'd asked him to come home. If nothing else, she meant to try again with him. And he would give her that, happily. There would be no expectations, no past. When he came home, which he fully intended to do, they would start again. Now to survive The Wall and whatever it was The Watch was afraid of. It was in the way of him and Arya, so he'd just have to fight through it. No other possibility crossing his mind.
A/N: Up to you, what do you want to read next? 1) Gendy at The Wall or 2) Arya in Winterfell? I'll be going back and forth, but the next chapter is up to you. We already know what Gendry will find; Jon, Others, and Melisandre. But Arya, what awaits her homecoming? I'm concerned guys, Winterfell has gone wild. Can she handle it? Of course, but there will be a price. So please let me know, and it will influence my decision for the next part.
I fixed a few things, but nothing major. However if you need to check back on clues, or just want to reread it, all continuity errors are fixed and in fact there are some nice little surprises. If I missed any, please tell me.
As for new chapters and hidden scenes; maybe I'll put them up at the end. I intend to be done with this story around the time of the new season of GOT. According to my rough estimates, there should be about 12 more chapters including the epilogue. Afterwards, I will post extra scenes if there's interest because I never want it to end. I intend a Tyrion scene soon, so that's settled. I don't know, sky's the limit with those. But the story itself is already set in my mind.
Review please!