A Knight's Watch

by DolorousEdditor

Jon Snow is forbidden to take the black by his father. Instead he sent to squire for a famous knight, beginning a long arduous journey that causes him to cross paths which characters he never would have. Along the way he learns truths long hidden and discovers love in the most unlikely of places. All of this in the shadow of the War of Five Kings and the coming of the Others.

25. Chapter 25

SAMWELL

Dolorous Edd let out a sigh. "That's it, we're dead."

"Shut up Edd!" Pyp yelled as he fumbled putting an arrow in his quiver. "Sam, we have to get out of here!"

Sam thought both his friends were right. Below them a great battle raged, far worse than the fight at Craster's Keep yet as terrifying at the Battle of the Fist.

For this was in his home. Castle Black had become a blood soaked battlefield. Much of that blood spilt by men of the Night's Watch.

Bled by their very own brothers.

Scores of black cloaked brothers battled throughout the courtyard. Some clashed along the roofs of buildings while others tried to throw up makeshift barricades in front of doorways. The Queen's men were battling as well. Sam watched a cordon of them carving a bloody path towards the stables. Two brothers who were merely trying to flee from the carnage were cut down by the knights' blades.

Grenn was down there somewhere, in the thick of the fighting. Sam had already been scared for the ranger when it had only been brother versus brother. When the great war cry had come up out of the darkness, the signal that the wildling men led by Sigorn were joining the fray as well, Sam had almost wet himself.

"Those wildlings will take the gate." Edd scowled and rose up from his hiding place. "We hold off a whole bloody army for two moons, all to hold that bloody gate and then we hand it off to them..."

The chaos had erupted while Sam had been tending Maester Aemon. The old man was growing weaker and sicklier with each passing day. Feverish at times, delirious at others, Aemon would sometimes think he was speaking to people who weren't there.

He'd even taken to calling Sam 'Egg' at times.

The brutal cold, which held the whole castle in its grasp for the past few weeks, had not helped the maester's ailments. Lord-Commander Mormont had decreed Aemon would be moved to chambers in the same tower they kept the wildling princess for his health. Val scared Sam almost as much as Melisandre at times. The woman was fierce and Gilly warned him that she was as likely to slit his throat as smile at him.

Gilly was staying in those chambers as well, acting as maid to both Aemon and Val, and wet nurse to Mance Rayder's son and her own. It was an odd little group at times gathered in that tower. Sigorn, now Magnar of Thenn after his father died in the Battle for Castle Black, and Lady Alys Karstark were frequent visitors. Maester Aemon, whenever he felt able enough, would summon the wildling lord to speak on all he knew of the Others. Sam was tasked with putting much of it down to parchment while the Lady Alys would pass the time with Val and Gilly. It shamed him that the Lord-Commander had tried to give the young lady back to her foul and traitorous cousin. From what he witnessed of the Lady of Karhold, she seemed a kind and brave soul with a fiery strength to her.

She was always especially kind towards the two babes.

"The Wall is no place for such sweet things." She'd say tickling at their tiny feet. "After we return to Karhold, the Lord Commander has promised to ask Queen Selyse to let me foster the babes. It would be good to have new life there."

Val had laughed at that.

"It will never happen. Even if the red witch agreed, how could you trust it?" Her beautiful face had darkened to say it. "Who's to say the moment that child is outside the castle he doesn't suffer the same fate as your kin? The hobbling lord-commander couldn't protect him and I trust him little more with my sister's boy."

That was a foul reminder of something that had hurt morale greatly at the castle. Men had whispered ever since that it was the red witch, the Queen's men, and her wildlings that held true sway over Castle Black. Grenn said that there were many builders and stewards, as well as a few rangers, who thought it would be better for all of them if the Old Bear went to bed one night and never woke again. Pyp had heard Janos Slynt saying that the Watch had become too close with Stannis Baratheon, that they were taking sides in his rebellion again King Tommen.

Sam had argued against all of it. Hearing Val accuse the Old Bear of being weak had emboldened him to challenge the wildling princess.

"We'd never allow it. The Lord Commander has kept the boy safe…"

"And who keeps him safe?" Maester Aemon had whispered from where he lay. "He has no Dunk to protect him like you did Egg. Never a more true and brave knight have I ever met and even he failed in that task. So many failures at Summerhall… I told you about the fire…"

He'd brought another blanket and some warm broth to ease Maester Aemon back to his rest afterwards.

There never seemed to be any rest for the Lord-Commander. The reports Sam brought were increasingly dire in nature. The builders reported that repairs to the other fortresses along the Wall would take years with the men they had available to them. The remnants of Mance Rayder's wildling army had split into three forces as far as they could tell. A large one was striking east for a place called Hardhome, a smaller one of raiders were heading west against the Shadow Tower under a man called the Weeper. The third and largest faction appeared to follow a man named Tormund Giantsbane, and they were not believed to have gone far.

Perhaps preparing for a renewed assault against Castle Black.

They knew little more than that. Most of rangers the Old Bear had sent forth to learn the scope of the threat against them were either killed or had gone missing like Benjen Stark.

All this weighed heavily on the Lord-Commander.

"What good does gold do us Tarly?" He'd asked one day, his words a white mist cloud even within his solar. "The Iron Bank's loans gives me gold for food and repairs to our castles, yet I have few enough men to feed, let alone to put to work."

Sam had tried to offer him what little advice he could as but the maester's steward.

"When the king returns he'll come with more than enough men my lord… we'll throw back the wildlings… and the Others…"

Those were only the threats Beyond The Wall though, some lay to the south of it as well. King Stannis had not been heard from in weeks. The Queen assured everyone that the next news they'd have from her husband would come from Winterfell itself, where he'd stand victorious over the Boltons.

She'd been half right.

He'd read the letter to the Lord-Commander himself in the company of Janos Slynt, Bowen Marsh and Septon Cellador. A letter which said Stannis had indeed reached Winterfell and had been killed for the effort. It went on to claim Mance Rayder, the man that King Stannis had had burned, was captured at the castle. It called the Old Bear a traitor and threatened that unless he turned over Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen, the army which killed King Stannis would come for them.

It had been signed Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell.

"That's it then." Slynt has declared. "The rebellion is done. We must rid ourselves of the traitors and prove our fealty to the throne once again."

"We do not owe fealty to the crown…" Sam had put in and Slynt had scowled.

"Watch yourself boy…"

"Tarly is right." The Lord Commander had grimaced as his finger fiddled with his eye patch. "We take no part. We will not do Bolton's dirty work for him."

"My lord, should we allow them to stay, surely this Lord Ramsay will make good on this threat." Bowen shook his head, gesturing out the window. "How many of us would join the Queen and Princess in chains then."

The Old Bear had grunted as he lumbered to his feet, Sam offering him his cane so he could seek the window himself.

"Chains or worse. Sending Stannis's kin to the Boltons would likely be sending them to their deaths."

"And we have no way of knowing if this letter is true…" Septon Cellador had slurred, hiccupping towards the end. "Pardon me… it speaks of Mance Rayder, a dead man. It is likely he remains dead while Stannis still lives. Should we turn out the Queen we may earn the ire of the king himself…"

"A false king." Slynt had pressed. "We must take the more cautious route. Take the women into our custody…"

The Lord-Commander had turned and slammed his cane upon the table then, causing all to jump.

"Is Tarly the only one who remembers?" He shouted. "We take no part! None! We will no more deliver them to the Boltons than shelter them here! It is time they were gone. I will tell Queen Selyse to seek Karhold if she wishes. Eastwatch if there is some shelter to be found across the Narrow Sea. One way or another this must end. I will see it end."

None of the others had been pleased with the decision. Marsh and Slynt left together engaging in hushed whispers. He'd had little doubt Septon Cellador would be off to report the news to those more inclined to support Stannis, perhaps even seeking out the Queen herself, though it was hard to say. The man was vehemently opposed to the Queen's Red God but Sam had heard from Pyp that the Queen's men also shared in their stores of wine with him at times.

Whatever company Selyse Baratheon kept, the Old Bear was not in the mood for any. He'd turned back to stare out the window again, his old raven flying over to join him.

"End!" The raven cawed. "End! End!"

Maester Aemon would've offered the old lord an ear to air his worries. The Lord-Commander must have seen him as the poor replacement he was, for he sent Sam away and he'd obeyed with little argument.

If he had known what would happen, he probably would have at least said goodbye.

Instead he'd made his way back to Hardin's Tower. He'd found Maester Aemon in one of his rare moments of lucidity, the old man cradling the wildling prince as Gilly fed her own son, singing softly as she did so.

The maester had listened in grave silence to the news of the letter. Clucking disdainfully to hear of the others reactions.

"The Watch is divided Samwell. A split made by misguided loyalties and selfish ambitions, leading our men to ruin just as the Queen is being led by that sorceress."

"When they leave, things might get better." He'd offered. "Lord-Commander Mormont can send Slynt and some of the others on to Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower even somewhere south. Reorganize our forces here at the castle with better men…"

"Better men…we've lost most of those. Benjen Stark, Jarmen Buckwell, Donal Noye. True men of the Watch." Aemon offered him a tired, weak smile. "Like you."

The baby had fussed some then but the maester merely shifted his hold, his blind eyes staring down at the little prince.

"Holding this child, just the smell of him reminds me of how far along I am. My time is almost done Samwell. When it comes, the Wall will need a new maester. It will need you." He'd reached a trembling hand towards him and Sam had grasped it. "Your task will be a hard one. Like my brother's was. Your kind heart, pure and earnest, it reminds me of Egg. Before I came to the Wall I told him…"

That was when the sounds of shouting had carried up from outside. Gilly had jumped at the anger and fear in the voices and Val had burst in from another room.

"That's a fight I hear."

"Stay here!" Sam had told Gilly as much as the others.

He'd moved as quickly as he could down the stairs, the sounds coming from below sending waves of terror through him. Without the tower, it was exactly as Val had predicted.

It was a fight.

The courtyard was full of men pushing and shoving, throwing punches and cursing. More and more ran from other parts of the castle, the furor growing with each new man. Their shouts all the louder.

"They killed him!"

"The old fool is dead!"

"Traitors! Turncloaks!"

"Kill them!

When Sam got close enough he saw most of the chaos crowded around a group of men. At their center was Janos Slynt who, like a good many others, held up a bloodied blade and shouted for calm. Three men and Slynt himself were injured and two shapes on the ground looked very much like bodies, their necks twisted violently.

"It was for the good of the Watch! He had broken faith with our true purpose!"

That was when Sam had spotted another body on the ground. The snow around it was stained with red and a broken cane beside it. His heart had fallen to recognize the large man as the Lord-Commander Mormont, his body covered in deep wounds and blood.

For some reason, he'd been struck at how still the lord appeared, like he was simply taking a well-deserved rest. He'd never seen the man more at peace.

It was a far cry from the castle he'd left behind.

"Turncloaks!" Grenn had roared, his sword in hand. "Murderers!"

"Hear us!" Bowen Marsh yelled in reply, waving at some brothers to draw up in front of him, weapons drawn. "We have lost too much under Mormont! It is time to…"

The man's next words had been a red spray. The arrow through his throat had ended his appeal to the men. Ulmer was already notching another when one of Marsh's defenders rushed him with a spear. Grenn met that attack and soon many others launched attacks of their own.

Sam had frozen in his place, just like he had during the mutiny at Craster's. Men fought and died all around him and Sam just stood there. Until Pyp and Edd had come running through the fray, grabbing and pulling him along with them.

"Sam you need to get to the ravens!" Pyp had yelled. "We need to get help! From the Shadow Tower! Winterfell! Fucking Dorne, anyone!"

"I'd settle for the bloody wildlings at this point." Edd had grumbled.

They'd tried to make it to the rookery but they had been blocked by a number of Queen's men advancing towards the battle, killing any in their path. Pyp had tried to lead them around another path by the common hall but the fighting had spilled out near there as well.

Edd had plucked a bow and quiver off a dead man and urged them up the hall's stairs. When they kicked their way within it Edd tossed the bow to Pyp and pushed him toward a window.

"How the hell will I know who to shoot?"

"Aim for the ones who don't look trustworthy." Edd shrugged as he pushed a bench up against the door.

"Half the men here are criminals!"

"Plenty of targets then!"

Without them pulling him about, Sam had the chance to panic again. He dropped below the window, hugging his knees to his chest. Praying that this was all just a bad dream. That he would wake up and tend to the ravens and the Lord-Commander would be there to bark at him.

"Oh fuck. The rookery's burning."

"What?"

Pyp's words had shaken him into rising up to his knees to peer out the window. Sure enough the smoke and flames were shooting out the rookery's windows. Maester Aemon's ravens likely burning with it.

As he watched the rest of the bloody work unfolding on the outside of the hall, the thought of how he would explain all this to the maester struck him like a pail of cold water.

He's with Gilly, he realized, Gilly and Val are alone.

With a castle full of mutineers.

He remembered how Craster's wives and daughters had been treated during the mutiny there, how many had been raped or worse. Sam grabbed Pyp's leg, causing him to curse.

"Pyp! The women!"

"Got enough men to shoot at Tarly, we'll leave off the women." Edd said as he came forward with a large meat knife, offering it to him.

"No! We have to get to them! Gilly and Val! And Maester Aemon!" He ran towards the door, bowling over Edd who tried to block his path.

"Sam!" Pyp yelled as Sam began to push the bench away so he could open the door again. "We could be killed before we even get there! Besides, Val's the Queen's prisoner, let her men protect her!"

Even if that was true Sam's mind had already latched onto to another terror to deal with. It was not just the women and the maester in danger.

The babes were as well.

The Lord-Commander kept that child safe.

And now he's dead, and there's no one to keep the red witch away.

No one but me.

"Sam!" Pyp called again.

Yet he was already gone, running as fast as he could back to Hardin's Tower. Huffing and his side's aching, the effort was nothing compared to how hard it was to keep his eyes off some of the gruesome sights along the way.

Much of the fighting appeared to have moved towards the Shield Hall and stables. Few, if anyone, looked to be near the gate. Many of the wildlings were instead clashing with the brothers trying to hold the armory.

All if not many of men seemed perfectly happy to kill one another yet none spared so much as a step towards him.

A fat, unarmed weakling isn't the most threatening of targets.

Nor the best of protectors, may Gilly and the others be safe and sound.

As he neared the tower Sam's hopes were crushed. The door was smashed and broken inwards. The strained cries of a babe were echoing down from on high. Along with a woman's screaming.

Oh please no.

Sam forced his sweaty, exhausted legs up the stone steps. When he reached out to steady himself against the wall, he realized he still had the knife in his hand. He was gripping it tightly and when he heard Gilly screaming he thought his grip likely to snap the knife in two.

When he reached the top of the stairs and found the door to the women's chambers open, he held the knife like it was Heartsbane, his father's Valyrian steel blade. Pushing open the door, the first thing he saw was Gilly crouched in the corner, sporting a bloodied lip and clutching a babe to her chest. Her eyes were wide with fear as they stared at the standoff happening at the other end of the room.

Ser Malegorn of Redpool and Val were squared off with one another. The knight with a sword, the wildling with a bloody dagger. The two were circling each other over the body of another man on the floor. Ser Patrek of King's Mountain was staring up at him, his mouth agape while his throat offered a bloody smile all its own.

"Where did you get a blade?" Ser Malegorn asked Val, who had red stains all about her clothing.

"Doesn't matter where I got it." Val raised the bloody thing between them. "Just where I'm going to stick it if you take another step."

Malegorn laughed.

"You got Patrek because he wasn't ready. Fine husband he would've made you." Malegorn swung his sword through the air threateningly. "Put the blade down and I'll show you the kind of husband I can be."

Val stopped circling then. Malegorn chuckled, probably thinking his words had some effect. It was more likely Val had seen Sam's advance into the room and wanted to keep the knight's back to him.

Just move quickly and stab him in the back.

No! His chainmail you fool, this blade won't make it through that.

Slit his throat then… I can do that for them… for her.

Sam was but steps away when his foot landed on the tip of Patrek's blade. He didn't trip, but the blade scraping upon the stone alerted Malegorn to his presence, causing the knight to throw himself to the side while cutting behind him.

The sword came within a hair of Sam's face and he cried out, falling backwards.

"The Slayer!" Malegorn laughed.

Val didn't laugh, she lunged at the knight instead. He was ready for it though, the man backhanding her hard with a mailed fist and then bringing the pommel of his sword down upon the wrist she held the dagger in. The wildling princess screamed in pain, dropping the blade. Malegorn's fist went up and into her stomach and Val let out a wheeze before collapsing on the ground.

Then the knight's eyes fell on him.

"Here piggy." Malegorn pointed his sword down at him. "Time to strip some bacon off that craven hide of yours."

Sam whimpered, turning and crawling back towards the door. He knew he couldn't flee but at least he could lead the knight away from the women. Maybe Val could recover by then. He was almost out the door when his foe caught him.

"Not so fast." Malegorn chuckled, grabbing Sam's ankle and pulling him back. "Let's see where I can stick that meat knife of yours."

As the knight continued to laugh at his own jest a pair of feet appeared in front of Sam's eyes. A moment later a shocked gasp and bloody rain fell upon him. That was followed by the loud thud of an armored body hitting the floor. Looking up Sam saw the most unlikely of saviors standing above him with a gore-encrusted mace in his hands.

"Seven hells." Edd spoke, running a hand down his bloody face. "If anyone asks, the babe did it."

After Edd helped him to his feet Sam went swiftly to Gilly, her face wet with tears and her son still screaming.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching up to wipe the blood from her lip. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner…"

"She took them!" Gilly sounded terrified. "She has them both!"

"What? Has who?"

It was then Sam noticed who was missing in the room. He couldn't believe he'd overlooked it until now. Gilly's screaming son was making enough noise for two babes but was the only one in the room.

And Maester Aemon was nowhere to be seen either.

"The red bitch." Val choked out as Edd helped her up. "She came with too many… they took Dalla's boy. The old man wouldn't give him away so they took him too."

"Smart man, our maester." Edd shook his head. "As quick as he moves it'll take them till dawn to get wherever they're going."

"I know where they are going." Sam said numbly.

And it won't take them till dawn.

For the second time that night he left Gilly's side. Edd shouted that Pyp was gathering men to join them at the tower but he couldn't wait for them. Not with the babe out there in Melisandre's grasp. Gilly cared for him as much as she did her own boy. Her feelings towards the babe had infected him as well.

He'd heard Cregan Karstark's screams the night he was burned. Imagining that child facing the same kind of death drove his feet through the heavy snow.

The flurries had started, snow blocking his view save for what was right in front of him. The babe's cries helped guide his way, a glance down to the ground helped even more. The path he took was already well trodden. The followers of the red god were not creative in their choice of sacrificial grounds. They'd built their pyre in almost the exact same place they had Cregan Karstark's.

His feet and face were frozen but the sheer number of torches awaiting his coming warmed him little. Half of the force that King Stannis had left at the castle stood about the great wooden pyre. All armed, all better warriors than he. Some were gathered about the central pole but he could see little of what they were doing.

Of the Queen he saw nothing but Sam could not miss the lady many called the true queen.

Melisandre stood close to the pyre, leading her followers in a prayer he didn't know. Nor did he care. The babe's cries were coming the direction of a hooded figure guarded by four men. Sam only had eyes for them now.

Yet his approach had not gone unnoticed.

"Halt!" A man shouted and most turned to look at him. "I said halt!"

"You halt." He said through chattering teeth. "In the name… of the Night's Watch… I demand the return of our maester… and Mance's Rayder's son…"

"The Watch? What's left of it." A man laughed as the four guards crowded in around the person holding the babe.

"I won't let you burn him!" Sam shouted pushing his way towards them only to have a man with a spear block his path. "He's but a child! In the name of Lord-Commander Mormont, who sheltered and fed you, release him!"

"Give him what he wants." Melisandre's voice wafted through the snow. "Give him the child Alys."

Alys?

No, Aemon has the boy.

The hooded figure turned to face him then. Beneath the hood he saw Lady Alys's tear stained face staring back at him. She was shaking her head as she clutched the babe even tighter to her.

He recognized Sigorn as one of her guards then. Three others Thenns as well. The Queen's men parted before him as he walked to Alys Karstark, his eyes falling down to the babe to see him red-faced from crying yet otherwise unharmed. He was bundled warm against the cold and the lady held him with the utmost care.

"I'm so sorry. We can't stop them." Alys said as she handed the babe over to him. "Only half of Sigorn's men are armed and we wouldn't stand a chance against…"

"He is brave man." Sigorn added without turning back to the pyre.

"I don't understand… I thought they were going to burn him. I thought the maester was here…"

"In these dark hours we must ask R'hllor to guide our way!" Melisandre yelled, her arms raised above her as snow whipped all about. "The better the blood, the brighter the flame! For R'hllor to give us his blessing we must offer him the best of us! The blood of kings!"

The men gathered upon the pyre were finally climbing down, all save one. They'd left one bound to the pole, a man dressed all in black.

A man Sam had come to save.

"No!" He yelled, causing the babe to scream all the louder in his arms. "No not him! Let him go!"

Sam tried to rush forward but Alys grabbed hold of him and the Queen's men barred his path. More men holding torches moved closer to the pile of wood and pitch.

"He's a man of the Watch! You've no right!"

"They do… he gave them one." Alys rasped. "She was going to burn the babe. To use his kingsblood for her bloody demon… so he offered himself instead. He said he couldn't suffer the death of anymore children. He foreswore his vows, made himself a deserter for the sake of the babe. His life for the child's. The son of a king, whose father was a son of a king… Melisandre didn't even hesitate."

As he was reeling with what this all meant, Melisandre showed no hesitation in giving the command. Before he could utter a cry, torches were flying through the air, setting fire to the straw and pitch among the pyre. Maester Aemon was lit up by the glow of the flames then, the maester looking as if he was already dead.

Sam jerked away from Alys and found the strength to barrel by the men in his path. They were likely distracted by the spectacle of his mentor's murder.

He ran as close to the flames as he dared, even closer than Melisandre.

"Maester Aemon!" He cried. "Maester Aemon I'm here! I'm sorry I couldn't…"

The maester let out a cry then.

Not one of horror or pain, one almost of joy.

"Egg?" The sightless man gazed down upon him through the rising flames. "Egg! Oh brother I had a terrible dream..."

The crack of burning logs cut off some of his words and Sam strained to hear the man's quiet voice.

"I warned you about the fire. I told you fire alone cannot bring life from death… life can only pay for life… Duncan always listened better than you…"

Sam's tears fell wet down his cheeks, the snow melting from the heat of the flames falling upon him like rain. The same was happening to Aemon and the man inclined his head up and towards it, smiling the whole time.

"I was so cold Egg… for such a long time… so cold…"

Aemon Targaryen, who had been born a prince and lived most of his life at the Wall in obscurity, was lost to his sight then. The smoke and flames cloaked his passing but they did nothing to keep his last words from drifting down to him.

"It's good to be warm again."

The screaming started soon after. Sam's own screams mingled in with those of his mentor and the child in his arms.

All three screaming as the flames lit up the darkness.

As the smoke and embers flew up and into the snow, pushing back the cold as a dragon passed from the world.

THE HANGMAN

"I swear it, the dragons are back from the dead!"

The traveler making the bold statement was met with laughter and calls of derision from the others. The brothel was quite lively.

Men were laughing as they grabbed at whores and serving girls alike. Some of the girls laughed back as they slapped hands away, or merely took a place in their mauler's lap. A roaring fire sat in the hearth, the sounds of a harp being played drifting over the din of noise. There was even ale to be had, which made this place a rarity in the Riverlands.

The hooded man taking in this scene was out of place as well. While others basked in the good cheer the Peach offered, he set himself away from it. Choosing a seat in a darkened corner of the room, far from the rowdiest of the men, the man stared at the harpist. A girl had come, but all he'd have of her was a tankard of ale, which sat in front of him as the snow melted upon his cloak. He made no effort to remove it or his hood, nor to drink of his ale.

He just sat there, watching and listening.

"Fuck off with your tales!" A heavy bearded man shouted at the traveler, his hand down the dress of a girl half his age. "There's enough bad in these lands without you adding horseshit on top of it!"

"Dragons he says!" Another man echoed.

The traveler, who wore a cloak of sable, far finer than anything else he had on, pressed on.

"I heard it in Duskendale from a captain who'd sailed from Slaver's Bay! That the Dragon Queen had birthed the three great beasts herself! That they came out of her, breathing fire and…"

"Smoke blowing out her arse?" The harpist asked.

He was an older man with thin brown hair beginning to grey and a pointed nose. As he mocked the traveler he plucked at his wood harp lazily. Everyone in the brothel laughed at that, save the traveler and the hooded man.

"Make jests all you want but he wasn't the only one who has said such things…" The traveler continued, distracted for but a moment by the passing of a wench whose rear he took great interest in. "The port men have heard of a Targaryen with dragons in Qarth too! Not all the tales came from one ship either, are you telling me all those sailors made it up?"

"I'm saying I trust the word of a whore more than a sailor." With that the harpist called out to a woman leading a man towards the stairs. "Hold there Leslyn, if it got my attention and my coin, what tales would you tell me?"

The woman laughed and swayed seductively against the man she led.

"Why, only the finest stories of sorcery and dragons and the like Tom. Anything for the attention of a good man."

"Or a poor man with a good amount of coin." Tom Sevenstrings shook his head before waving the couple off. "I wish you both many moments of happiness."

The bearded man was fumbling at a sack at his side when his face crumpled up in confusion.

"Weren't we talking about the dragon in the south anyways?" He asked, finally pulling forth a string of dried of fish from his bag and tossing it upon the table. The whore in his lap immediately set to inspecting the number and quality of the fish there.

"The one in the Stormlands." He fished out an apple as well and the whore smiled to see it. "The dead dragon this little beauty said lives again."

The girl gave a mock sound of exasperation before grabbing up the fish and apple and rising from the table.

"I never said he did Lafe. The captain at Ser Wilbert's keep heard it from the maester who read the raven. He thought it was silly hisself. Prince come back from the dead… everyone knows his head was smashed to bits. No one gets better from that."

"Fine, fine. Hurry up and get that stowed away so we can get upstairs and I can get my reward for the fine meal I've treated you to." The man named Lafe said to a chorus of hoots from the others. "I've had enough of this talk anyways. Talking about long dead beasts and vengeful ghosts… tis fool's talk.

Tom chuckled at that, plucking the low chords on his harp before leaning back in his chair sighing.

"Fool enough for you to think death is the end. Or ghosts can't have their vengeance."

The hooded man sat up a bit straighter then, eyeing the reaction Lafe had to Tom's words. His face lost its jovial expression, indeed it soured some as he narrowed his eyes at the harpist.

"I said I'm done with tales. Especially one as foul as what happened at… well I never want to hear that one again. If you're fixing on getting drunk enough to tell it, I hope they run out of ale."

By then the whore had returned and Lafe collected his things and followed her up the stairs. Another whore was coming back down the steps at the same time, followed by a dim looking lad with a stupid expression on his face. The girl had curly black hair and was comely to be sure. The kiss she laid upon her customer's cheek caused him to blush.

When she turned around her eyes fell upon the watcher. He lowered his gaze again but it was too late. The whore made her way towards him, sitting herself down in the seat next to him and resting her face in her hands.

"Tis too fine a night to spend alone don't you think?" She asked as he pulled his hood down even more. "You must be cold to still be so bundled up. Maybe I could warm you some?"

"I've got ale for that." He answered, taking a sip of it.

"It's fine brew, we traded well for it." She dragged a finger lazily across the table in front of him. "The man who gave it had me instead though… guess he figured I could make him happier than ale could."

He grunted at that. The girl was familiar to him in a way he couldn't place. He was sure he didn't know her though. Brothels never held much appeal for him. Whores even less.

Yet she could be of use. The boastful traveler had pulled out a purse of coin and was haggling red-faced with the serving wench. He pointed at the desperate bargaining underway as he felt the whore's hand upon his leg.

"Your serving wenches don't take up the trade as well?"

"Them? If the price is right, but they've got none of the skill…"

"Man seems to offer a good price." He sipped again of the ale, not daring to gulp. "Why won't she take it?"

The whore shrugged, her pretty curls bouncing some at the effort. Her barely concealed breasts bounced even more as she put a hand upon those curls.

"Gold is all fine and good when there's things to buy." She feigned distress. "With all the fighting and the winter come there's little enough food folks are willing to part with. We take coin if we must but it's food we be needing. Trying to send buyers to other markets, you're as likely they're killed or run off."

She leaned close then, her mouth almost touching the corner of his hood.

"So we trade a meal for a meal… trust me, whatever food is in your satchel you won't find half as tasty as Bella."

"Who?" He inched away and stopped her hand's journey up his leg.

"Me silly!" She giggled. "Are you shy? Don't be. I can be gentle if you like…"

Without meaning to he laughed.

If there was a time in his life when he sound the gentle touch of another it had long since passed. His laugh did not come out as a warm sound and Bella must've thought so as well. She drew back some and he acted quickly, for he could not lose this chance. He reached back into his satchel and pulled a pheasant out to show her. It was still cold from his travels and not the largest he'd ever seen but Bella's eyes lit up to see it.

"Well then." She let her arms wrap about his. "Why don't we go upstairs?"

"No. Not yet." He moved further along the bench to put the pheasant between them. "I've had some long journeys and it be good to speak with someone for a time. I imagine you hear much living in such a place."

"Oh I do." Bella smiled as she boldly took his tankard and drank of it herself. "And if the good man needs some talk to ready himself, why I'm eager to please."

The whore lived up to those words.

His travels did not lend him much time to seek word about the state of the realm. Apparently a good many travelers, knights and even septons, called upon the brothel, taking their pleasure in the women and leaving behind tales in their wake.

The one about the dead dragon come back to life in the Stormlands mattered little to him. Dragons real or feigned were not marching through these lands making war. They'd heard tell of a battle near the Golden Tooth, when an army of Riverlords and Vale men had thrown back a Lannister attempt to invade the Riverlands again. Some whispered the lions would seek a different route along the Gold Road instead but the whore knew little of such things.

What she did know was that Harrenhal was offering itself as refuge to all the faithful of the Seven. The aftermath of Queen Cersei's trial had driven a great many of the sparrows from the capital. The verdict in the case was confusing.

"The septon said she lived but was both innocent and guilty." Bella shrugged. "His mouth was full so I didn't hear much of the rest."

She was sure Darry was firmly in the hands of the House Arryn forces but couldn't say if the Arryns had continued marching south or went east towards the ports of the Crownlands. The entry of the Vale into the war had brought some relief to the depravation many felt in the northern part of the Riverlands. Food and safety could be found in those lands nearest the Vale for the time being.

"Tansy is thinking of moving us all there if things get much worse." Bella spoke mournfully. "Tom told her about some inn at a crossroads that could be bought up but I don't want to go to some drafty inn when there's a town right here."

He pushed the rest of the tankard towards her, the whore's eyes getting glassy with drink. His eyes fell back on Tom Sevenstrings, who was playing a quiet version of the False and the Fair.

"This singer seems well travelled. Does he live here as well?"

Bella laughed.

"If he did, all of us would have swollen bellies by now. No, Tansy will let him play for coin but he sleeps above a stable nearby like the other journeymen." She almost purred then. "If you've another bird in your bag I'll let you share my bed the whole night."

He ignored that.

"The Lafe man, he was upset about stories he's heard from the man." He reached into his pocket and slid a gold ring towards her. "What tales does he weave?"

"Oh how did you know? Coin is coin but a girl can never say no to a ring." Bella tried it on, and beamed to see it fit her largest finger. "This is a lady's ring, where did you get it?"

"From a Lannister who won't miss it." He reached up and took her hand in his before adding. "They have enough gold and I've no need for jewelry anymore."

"Well I thank you, but I don't think you'll be wanting to ask Tom about that. And Tom has enough tales that are good to hear, it's just the one that bothered Lafe…"

"Did you hear it?"

"No." Bella said, pulling her hand away, her expression curious. "It was just Lafe and him up so late. Tansy woke up to kick them out but Lafe was too scared to go out into the dark after… he traded away four skins of wine just to lay in my bed. I didn't want to hear whatever bothered him so."

He asked if she knew if Tom had told such tales to others and the whore shook her head. Apparently the Tansy woman only barely tolerated the singer because he gave some of his coin to a bastard child of his own who was living at the brothel. If he started scaring away customers Bella was sure he'd be out on his arse.

"Come on now, you didn't come in here just to hear about Tom… he sings well enough but I'm even better at what I do."

"So you say." He grumbled as a bit of dust fell from the ceiling, someone above them was trying to tear the place down with their rutting.

"Are you shy?" She teased. "Is there a wife somewhere who will be cross with you for having some sweet fun with me? Your family won't bother you in my bed."

"My family would have nothing to do with me."

Bella paused some at that but the ale took hold and she ran a hand along his shoulders.

"Is it vows then? Are you a sparrow? A knight sworn off all the good a woman can bring you? Leave your duties down here…"

"Any duties I had I have failed at." He said, his hands curling into fists.

Tom had begun to stamp his feet along with a new tune, doing his bed to time his plucking with the sounds of grunts and a bed slamming against the wall. Others were soon joining in a randy bout of Oh Lay My Sweet Lass Down in the Grass. With their mirth and the romantic lyrics they sang, he felt even more out of place.

He'd heard enough and it was time to go.

Yet when he rose Bella grasped his arm.

"Changed your mind then?" She smiled, placing her free hand upon his cock. "Knight or lord, no one cares much for their honor when they're on me."

With that he grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked himself free from her grasp. Bella's surprise turned to horror when her eyes finally saw what he hid beneath his hood.

"If I had any shred of honor left do you think I'd be in here?" He growled.

The whore began to sputter and looked about fearfully so he quickly bent down to put their faces but a hair apart.

"I gave a pheasant and a bauble for your time… and your silence." His words caused her to cringe away but he reached behind her head to pull her back towards him. "Not a word of our time tonight… say I was a drunk and couldn't get it up… or I'll come back."

He reached down and pulled his cloak aside to show the blade there.

"And you won't want that."

The girl was nodding numbly as he turned and left her there, leaving the brothel and striking back out into the night.

Stoney Sept was largely dark, most probably asleep or saving their firewood for nights when furs alone would not hold back the cold. A light snow fell on the town stores and homes and his feet crunched softly in it.

His path led him back to the poorly made hovel where his horse was sheltered at, the place leaning to the side. The old couple living there were confused and scared when he pounded upon the door. They fearfully told him where to find stables that a man could sleep in for the night yet were happy to take the coin he'd promised them. The pair were even more relieved to see him go. His face had scared them so much earlier when he first offered to pay them for a room that they had almost refused to put him up.

Desperation drives people to do desperate things.

The stables were where the couple said they would be. The stable master was well and truly drunk when he called upon his door. The man had wanted coin enough for four horses, for that was how many he saw. He received enough for one and didn't even bother to count it.

The stables had several lanterns burning yet there were only a few mules and one shabby looking horse to be found within. Atop the rafters he found a bedroll and signs a person had been sleeping there for some time.

Yet no one was there now.

So he set about his work.

Tom Sevenstrings stumbled into the stable in the wee hours of the night. He held his wood harp limply in one hand while the other grasped his stomach.

"Rotten peaches…" The man mumbled as he shut the stable door behind him.

He stopped then, apparently just noticing all the lanterns within were out. A small candle burned towards one end of the stable yet it offered no light at all. The mules and horses within were making skittish sounds and moving about warily within their stalls. Tom was fumbling about in the dark towards the ladder leading to the rafters when the noose dropped around his neck.

"Hey!" He choked out as the harsh rope dug deep into his flesh, cutting off his air.

A blow to the back of his knee sent him collapsing to the ground. Then he was being dragged across the straw by the noose, kicking and sputtering the whole while. When he was in the center of the stable a rope was tossed up and over a rafter and Tom was being yanked upwards.

He clawed desperately at the rope, cutting his neck with his nails. When his feet barely touched the ground everything stopped. The hooded man tied the end of the rope off to a stable gate before quickly grabbing Tom's grasping hands and jerking them behind him. Ropes were bound tightly around them as the noose was loosened and relaxed enough about the singer's throat for him to gasp for air.

"Who…" Tom wheezed, his feet straining to raise himself up anymore. "Who's there?"

The candle was pressed within a lantern and finally there was light enough for both Tom and his attacker to be seen.

For the hooded man stood before the singer, lantern in his hand and a blade at his side. Rather than drawing the sword, he reached up and pulled back his hood.

"Blackfish?" Tom rasped as he cringed back at the sight of him.

"So you remember me, Tom of Sevenstreams?" Brynden asked, his finger tracing a line down his scars. "I imagine I look different than when we last saw each other."

From the looks people gave him he imagined them to be quite ugly. He'd never bothered to seek a mirror or look too closely at whatever water he came across. Brynden had a good idea what they looked like. For he'd seen scars like his on someone else, a face he saw every time he closed his eyes.

The face of the woman he sought justice for now.

"No… " Tom stared upwards at the rope. "Please you can't..."

"The world is full of things that can't be done, yet are." He paced before his prisoner. "Like robbing my niece of her rest and creating a monster in her place. Following your slovenly trail was no great feat by comparison."

With that he pulled a knife from beneath his cloak and began to cut away Tom's clothing. The man shaking and pleading with him the whole while.

"I've sworn my outlaw days are behind me, ser." Tom begged. "After that foulness at Riverrun… after all the needless death… please I'm just trying to start anew."

"There are no new starts for people like you. Or me." Brynden let the man's shirt fall away before cutting at his belt. "The only ones you lot offer are tainted by evil and darkness."

"It wasn't supposed to be!" The singer yelped as his breeches were torn free, leaving him naked and stretched out before the knight. "Thoros warned Beric! He said it had been too long but the lord wanted to save her…"

Brynden backhanded the man and then again to throw him off balance before tightening the noose. Tom struggled back up to free his throat again.

"What else did Thoros say? Did he say where he was going? What rock he was crawling under?"

The red priest had not been among the dead at Riverrun and only one prisoner had survived to offer any truths to him. Jack-Be-Lucky yielded him enough information to name Thoros of Myr a man who needed to be held to account.

Cat deserves justice for what was done to her.

By the Brotherhood and all their kind.

Somewhere to the North his great nieces sought justice of their own for House Stark. They'd entrusted him to lead the fight against the Lannisters in the south. It was a just cause, a worthy cause.

A cause he himself was no longer worthy of.

No one is as accursed as the kinslayer.

Jason Mallister was as a capable commander as any and the lord probably did not wake up at night screaming. Jason was not burdened with memories of murdering a monster wearing his niece's skin. No one in that army knew the truth of Cat, he'd told none and no men had been left after the battle against the outlaws to speak to it.

He made sure of that.

Savagery like that was something Brynden had seen on countless battlefields. Barristan had hated to see how little mercy the world could offer in the face of cruelty. Yet his love was lost to him, for when he tried to think of him all he saw was the pendant in Cat's grasp as she burned.

He could not face that.

Nor could he face going before Cat's daughters and telling them the truth of what fate had befallen their mother. Of what had been done to her. What he had done himself. To explain that the woman, who was a glimmer of life itself, had become a cruel, twisted face of death was not within him.

Yet it is a truth I can keep from them.

Cat was denied her right to rest in peace but I can let her memory do so.

The Starks were already called monsters. For his niece to be remembered as one was not something he could allow. Her memory was all he had left, all he could protect. For he wasn't worthy of the living anymore.

What family I loved most I have failed. What duties I've had I am no longer worthy of.

My honor fell burning from the walls of my home.

Wherever Sansa and Arya were they were better off far from him. For Cat had torn more than flesh from his face. She'd torn out all that hoped in him, all that dreamt and loved.

For his heart could not bear to love again.

Yet his soul was eager enough to hate.

"Thoros?" Tom gave the slightest shake of his head. "Why? What do you want of him?"

Brynden answered the question by pulling upon the rope, causing the singer to cough and struggle.

"Speak to it."

"I don't know!" Tom coughed. "He left… before Riverrun… like the others before him."

"Which others?" He went to his satchel and took out a parchment. A list of names he'd come to know by heart. "Tell me all who knew the truth of Lady Stoneheart."

Tom glared at him then, the small man's jaw setting and his chin raised a little higher.

"I will not betray my brothers."

Brynden scowled, holding the knife up between them.

"Your friend Jack said the same."

He wasted a good amount of time on the singer. Too long if he was to finish what other tasks awaited him in Stoney Sept before dawn. Washing the blood from his hands from the water in his skin. He pulled the cloth he'd shoved into Tom's mouth to keep his screaming silent and dried them off.

The man, pale and weak from the bloody ordeal, let loose a stream of betrayals as soon as his mouth was free to do so.

The names he offered Brynden either checked against or added to his list. Besides those who knew the truth, he had likely hiding places and friends the outlaws might seek out if they were in need. A place called High Heart seemed likely enough to be his next stop. For Tom believed a good number of the band which had broken away from Lady Stoneheart's had sought shelter there.

Yet he'd failed to mention a select few names on the list of dead men.

"What of Edric Dayne and the archer?" He asked, pressing the blade against Tom's ear. "Where would they go?"

"Stop!" Tom quailed. "I was only with them a little ways after Riverrun… Anguy was not well…"

"Where?" He shouted, startling some of the horses.

"East… they were heading east… to seek a ship… maybe to Dorne! I don't know!"

Dorne. So after the Riverlands I must choose north or south.

For those three to escape me is a failure I cannot allow to repeat itself.

Not again.

"Our time is at an end then outlaw." Brynden pulled away the knife and walked back towards where the rope was tied off. "I've had almost all I can from you."

The bloodied, quivering man almost had a look of relief then. His knees were quaking terribly under the strain and he stared at the knife as it neared the rope.

"Did you see me in brothel tonight?" He asked the man. "Watching you? Listening to you?"

Tom shook his head quickly, his eyes still on the knife.

"I heard you singing, I heard your playing… and I heard of your storytelling…"

"What?" Tom's eyes met his own then, stopping for only a moment to gaze upon his scars. "No… no please Blackfish… I told no one! I'll tell no one."

"I believe you." He rasped sheathing the knife and pulling upon the rope. "You won't breath a word."

It strained him greatly to pull the singer up towards the rafters. The wood above groaned along with him at the effort. He'd seen men hung before, he'd even ordered such a punishment before.

Yet he'd never acted as a hangman himself.

Ser Barristan had once told him that while some swordsmen could carry darkness in their hearts, a hangman stood alone for what they kept within their souls.

When Tom of Sevenstreams finally stopped his kicking and struggling, and when he was still for some time more, Brynden let the man drop. The crack of the singer's neck removing any doubt the deed was done. He moved quickly afterwards, freeing what beasts there were before grabbing his own horse. He threw the lantern at the straw about Tom's feet, the flames spreading quickly across the ground.

He was well down the street when the fire behind him made a shadow grow tall before him. The dark man guiding him on to his task.

Soon enough all manner of folk will come forth to battle a fire within the town.

Few will worry about any ruckus at a brothel, especially if all there still sleep.

No ruckus at all if Lafe is asleep when I come for him.

He was breaking his word to Bella but he'd do her no harm. He'd spare her the harm of knowing what truth Lafe now kept. The one which sealed Brynden's fate. The knight continued on his way back to the Peach as yells and cries of alarm began to ring out behind him. They were nothing compared to the screams he heard at Riverrun, the ones that haunted him every night as he laid his head upon the cold hard ground.

People called for help yet he did not look back. For his path was set. Instead he glanced down at the names on his list.

Merrit O'Moontown. Swampy Meg. Jon O'Nutten. Thoros of Myr.

Anguy the Archer.

Edric Dayne.

Gendry Waters.

ARYA

"This is Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill. He's a friend."

Gendry bowed stiffly towards Jeyne who only cowered a little bit at Gendry's large form. Arya had been surprised to find Gendry in the practice yard. His left arm was still to be in a sling for a few more weeks according to the master but it looked as if he was hard at work anyway. Jeyne and she had walked into the yard to the sight of Gendry wielding a practice sword rather than his usual war hammer.

Her friend doing his best to keep away from her brother.

Jon and Gendry had stopped their sparring as soon as they spotted them. Her brother's eyes had almost bulged to see Jeyne beside her.

"Good day to you ser." Jeyne curtsied some, her eyes still looking about at the armed men furtively.

"Jeyne… it-it is good to see you." Jon smiled some. He'd been doing more of that lately. "Is there something you need? Something wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong with Jeyne wanting to leave her chambers." Arya put in, nodding at the girl. "She's been leaving them for days now. We went to the kitchens, the godswood, even the bathhouse!"

If Jeyne thought she was just going to forget about her after the night with Ramsay's head, Arya was set to prove her wrong. The next day, Arya had gone to Jeyne's chambers, practically dragging the girl down to the kitchens with her. She'd only go if she could wear a scarf about her face and a hooded cloak besides. Arya hadn't thought she needed to hide but it wasn't such a hard thing to allow.

Jeyne had been confused why they sought the kitchens until Arya showed her what she'd overheard some stewards talking about. In one of the storerooms, a litter of kittens had been born and she wanted Jeyne to pick one for herself. It always felt good to hug Nymeria tight when she was upset and she figured a kitten could do the same for Jeyne.

When Jeyne lifted one up to her face she'd pulled her scarf down to place a small kiss upon its head. The girl smiled for the first time in a long while. Arya had asked what his name would be but Jeyne said it was a secret.

That annoyed her and reminded Arya of when Sansa and Jeyne would make up secrets just to taunt her. She knew Jeyne had real secrets now. Bad ones.

The bathhouse had proven that. Yesterday, while Jeyne was playing with her kitten, she had complained how much she missed warm baths. For something she claimed to miss so much though, she'd certainly dragged her feet and fought against visiting them. Arya hated bathing too but if it helped Jeyne get out of her chambers she'd do it.

Which of them was quicker in the hot water Arya couldn't tell. She hated being naked in front of other girls. Jeyne was older and had more of a woman's body, yet it had been something else which caught her eye.

Jeyne had lash marks upon her back, fewer than Jon did, but less spread out and enough that it must have been painful. Before Jeyne dipped below the water she saw other scars here and there as well.

She had been angry to think of someone as weak and fearful as Jeyne being hurt in such a way. She'd wanted to know how it happened and who did it. Yet she'd kept her mouth shut, for Jeyne had begun to smile the longer she was in the water. Arya wouldn't ruin that.

Not like how Jon and Gendry ruined this moment.

"You went to a bathhouse?" Gendry asked as if he didn't believe it.

"No one forced you?" Jon raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up! I bathe when I need to!" She snapped before her eyes fell on the people she sought, grabbing Jeyne's arm. "There's Pod and Brienne, come on you need to meet her!"

"It was a pleasure…" Jeyne squeaked out as Arya pulled her away.

Pod was standing before Brienne, his arms out in front of him and his palms facing up with a sword laid flat upon them. The squire's face was twisted in strain and concentration while Brienne looked on with scrutiny. It was the same punishment the lady had inflicted upon them the night after the feast. Pod was punished for disobeying Brienne's command. Arya was punished for ordering him to disobey those commands.

"What did he do?" She asked and Brienne appeared surprised to see Jeyne there but gestured at Pod all the same.

"Speak to it Podrick."

"I forgot my helm in my chambers…" Pod grumbled, his face burning with shame to see Jeyne as well.

"You what?" Arya laughed. "How do you forget that? What if it was a battle?"

"Then Podrick would be as ill-prepared for that battle as you are late to it." Brienne crossed her arms. "I have other duties to see to besides your training Arya and I will not allow-"

"I'm sorry! Truly it won't happen again! I had to get Jeyne first." Arya pulled Jeyne from where she hid behind her to present Jeyne before Brienne. "This is Jeyne Poole. Jeyne, this is Lady Brienne of Tarth. She's one of our Sworn Guard now."

Jeyne gaped up at the warrior woman. Her eyes fixed upon Brienne's scarred cheek and her mouth hung open, as if she was stunned. Brienne acted little better, her eyes were moving up and down Jeyne's gown which was indeed out of place in the yard.

Arya squeezed Jeyne's arm and hissed, shaking her back to her senses. She quickly curtsied at Brienne, her gaze falling to her feet.

"My lady."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Jeyne." Brienne bowed.

"Jeyne's going to watch us practice!" She declared, pulling forth Thimble and raising it high. "If you want you can even try."

All three appeared shocked at the idea, Pod even dropping his sword. Jeyne jumped at the sound but didn't bolt, so that was a good sign. It didn't really matter if Jeyne wanted to take up swords. She just wanted to show her what girls could do to take care of themselves.

To show her what I can do, she thought, she'll forget all about my stupid needlework when she sees how good I am at swords.

Sansa hadn't come to watch her practice yet. Jon came all the time, Lady Maege and Ser Willem too. She'd even caught Howland Reed once watching from the battlements as she sparred.

Not Sansa though. My own sister doesn't even care.

She's too busy acting like the Queen, with her secret meetings with the fat lord Manderly and that ironman she keeps hidden from anyone.

Jeyne appeared ready to enough to watch though, the girl taking a place awkwardly beside Brienne. Podrick and she squared off. With his eye healed up, their matches had become all the better recently.

"Podrick will attack, Arya will defend." Brienne commanded and her hopes fell.

She did better at attacking. Defending with Thimble meant more dancing away and dodging then lunging and stabbing. Pod came on, his sword high and his pace quick. She was quicker though, dodging his strike and moving off to the side.

"Do not expose your sides so much Podrick." Brienne spoke sternly. "Arya, remember not to look where you mean to go before doing so."

Both the comments made her efforts all the harder. For Pod did as Brienne asked, attacking yet being quick to guard his sides. He even caught her trying to flee a few times when her eyes betrayed her. She spared a glance at Jeyne and saw her watching still. Beyond her, Gendry and Jon had returned back to their own bout. Their practice swords clashing and ringing out as they sparred.

Her gaze was moving back to Pod when her eyes fell on Jeyne again. Something had changed. The girl's face was full of fear, the sound of the blades crashing causing to her to jerk violently. She looked on the verge of tears.

Arya forgot all about Pod in that moment and it cost her dearly. She'd kept her attention off him too long, for when she turned back he was there.

Oh bugger.

The strike landed hard against her shoulder, a searing pain shooting through her and she gave a yell.

"Arya!" Brienne called out.

She didn't answer. She was too busy hopping about and clutching her arm, biting her lip against the pain.

"Oh shit… I mean- princess, I'm sorry." Pod held his hands up, staring at his practice sword as if it had betrayed him. "I thought you'd move."

"It's alright." She hissed, rubbing at her shoulder as Brienne came to inspect her.

"How bad is it?"

"It's fine." Arya rolled her shoulder, fighting back at the pain that came from it.

When she looked to Jeyne though, the girl looked anything but fine. Her eyes were screwed up and tears were streaming from them. The sounds of Gendry and Jon sparring kept her jumping and her hands went up to her ears.

"Jeyne?" She walked towards the trembling girl. "Jeyne, what's wrong?"

Jeyne didn't answer but Jon had raised a hand after he noticed what was happening and stopped his match with Gendry. When Arya reached out and touched the girl she jumped, her eyes shooting up, wide and fearful. A small, choked scream broke forth before her hands cupped over her mouth.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

"Arya back away." Brienne's voice came from behind her, the large lady kneeling in front of Jeyne. "Let her breathe."

"But she needs…"

"Back away. Wherever she is, she needs a moment to come back." Brienne held up her hands in front of her, as if to signal to Jeyne she was unarmed.

Jon and Gendry were approaching from behind but Brienne shook her head at their coming, waving Pod back as well. Jeyne was still breathing heavily and looking around wide-eyed.

What is Brienne talking about? Jeyne didn't go anywhere.

"Just breathe, my lady." Brienne said softly. "Would you like us to send the men away? Would you rather it just Arya and I here?"

Jeyne shook her head slowly, her hands coming down from her mouth, clutching at her chest.

"I'm sorry… so sorry…"

"It's okay." Arya lied. Her shoulder still stung in pain but Jeyne didn't need to hear about that. "What happened?"

"Arya, I said…"

"It was the swords." Jeyne closed her eyes again. "I remembered the swords… the day in the capital… when they came for us… when they killed my father…"

Arya felt a shiver run through her at the memory of that day. Of how Syrio Forel had sacrificed himself for her. How scared the stableboy had looked when she'd killed him.

"I could hear the Battle of the Blackwater again… the fighting was so loud… they told me Stannis's men would break in… that I'd be raped again and aga-"

Jeyne paused then and Arya saw Jon's eyes widen in shock. Brienne's face had darkened as well and Pod himself had lowered his eyes, trembling some.

"It is a normal thing to have such memories come at the worst moments." Brienne stood up. "There are things that scare me now, even as a woman grown. Perhaps the yard is not the proper place for you… not yet at least."

Jeyne nodded, clutching at her cloak and staring at Brienne. Arya felt bad for bringing her here, she hadn't even thought it would be hard for her.

"I'll take her back then…"

"No, you were late already. If your brother is willing to see to your lessons I will take the lady back to her chambers." Brienne's words brought on a nod from Jon, so she offered her hand to Jeyne. "It would be good to get to know a friend of the Starks."

Jeyne took Brienne's hand quickly and left the yard at Brienne's side, not speaking a word as she did so. For the smallest of moments she was jealous that Jeyne was stealing Brienne away.

Don't be stupid, this is what you wanted.

Brienne killed Ramsay Snow, if anyone can make Jeyne feel safe it's her.

"Gendry, would you mind sparring with Podrick?" Jon broke the silence, waving at her. "I'd see what the princess has to offer."

Gendry and Pod were eager enough to do that, Arya even more so. She'd made a mistake in bringing Jeyne here but being able to spar with Jon pushed aside her foul thoughts. He even let her attack so she could show him how well she'd improved. She poked and jabbed as he danced away from Thimble. It was becoming so frustrating at times that she laughed in annoyance.

"Stay still!"

"You're a fine one to talk." He smirked back, cutting at one of her stabs and knocking it away. "I've seen you, Arya. By the time a sparring session is done you've run around the yard ten times over."

"I take after you, remember?" She laughed, chasing after him, stabbing at his chest again.

This time Thimble struck it's mark, for Jon had stopped moving about. He grunted some and his face was pained, but she swore he'd looked like that before she struck.

"Are you alright?" She asked, lowering the blade.

"I'm fine, Arya." He said, reaching up to touch his chest. "Do you remember how everyone used to say you reminded them of Aunt Lyanna?"

She nodded.

"Father said so. A lot of people did… Howland Reed was talking to me about it..."

Jon's face hardened some at that.

"When did you speak with Lord Reed?"

"Yesterday…"

She didn't want to talk about it here. Her dreams had told her Nymeria was close and she'd gone to the godswood half expecting the wolf to be waiting for her there. Instead, she'd found Howland kneeling before the weirwood, the crannogman's head bowed in prayer. She hadn't meant to interrupt but he'd turned and smiled to see her there.

"Princess Arya." He'd said as he rose. "You move as quietly as your wolf."

"Then how did you hear me?" She'd asked and the crannogman had laughed, tapping on his ears.

"In the Neck we have to be able to hear a frog hop into a bog a mile away. Direwolves are a bit louder."

That made sense to her, when usually so little of the crannogman did. The last few days she'd spotted him about the castle, he'd been alone, his face drawn and pale. He hadn't been around Sansa or Jon much either, which was also strange.

And annoying, since he'd promised they would have a talk about something that interested her greatly.

"I had another dream." She'd said quietly, looking about the godswood and seeing no one. "A wolf dream."

"I see." Howland had nodded, waving her forward. "And you have questions of me?"

She had many questions in truth. All she knew of warging was Old Nan's stories and what she'd experienced so far. A lot of it was confusing and sometimes she couldn't even remember what she'd dreamt of.

"I imagine that's because you're asleep when you slip within the wolf's skin." Howland had offered. "You would remember more if you were awake. Have you chanced to see through the wolf without sleeping?"

Arya wasn't sure. There were times when she smelt things she couldn't possibly smell, or hear things much too far. Once she'd even seen herself gazing back at her, like a mirror.

Howland listened to all this quietly, laughing some to hear how sometimes she awoke really wanting to eat meat.

"Is it only the direwolf you dream of? Has there ever been other animals?"

"No?" She'd been confused at that before she took his meaning. "Wait, I could do that with other animals? Not just Nymeria?"

"Possibly child. My people tell stories of skin changers so powerful they could control men against their will."

The way Howland had said that had bothered her. His tone sent shivers down her back as much as the idea of controlling someone, like a slave.

"That sounds… I don't know. I think that would be wrong to do."

"As do I. Such is why men whisper of skin changers with such hatred. Some tales are likely to be true." Howland had turned and looked up at the First Keep then. "Some tales say Brandon the Builder, founder of House Stark, was such a skin changer. Able to inhabit beasts, men, even giants."

"Giants aren't real."

"Neither are wargs or direwolves." Howland said softly. "My people tell a dark story of Brandon the Builder. That the Wall was built to keep away evil but that it used the power of evil itself to do so…"

"My family isn't evil." Arya had become annoyed at that. "House Stark is an honorable family, we don't commit evil."

"And you defend it fiercely young one. You remind me so much of Lyanna in that." He'd smiled sadly. "Yet in every family there is good and evil. Lannisters. Targaryens. Starks. All houses with their own share of darkness and light."

Arya hadn't wanted to think on who could be the darkness in her family.

Howland and her hadn't been able to talk much longer. Podrick had found her soon after with orders to escort her to a meal, the crannog lord politely declining to join them. He preferred to return to his place, praying before the heart tree.

More and more she thought she liked the lord. That he was a good man.

So she couldn't understand why Jon was so upset to hear they'd been speaking.

"You can speak to whomever you like Arya." Jon waved off her thought. "Just next time you would speak with Howland on matters… on anything, please come to me first. I would like to take part."

He probably just wants to learn about his wolf dreams too.

Fine by me I guess, it's something else we can do together.

They went back to sparring for a time, Jon only faltering two times more and she thought he meant to, to see how she would take advantage of the opening. She was just beginning to tire when she heard the howl.

"Be quiet!" Jon shouted then, his head whipping around to the east, his whole body tensed.

Gendry and Pod lowered their arms and Arya strained her ears. There was no need though, for the howl came again. This time another one joined in. A queer feeling crept through her. As if she needed to grab hold of someone and scream a message she didn't know. It wasn't a foul feeling. It was almost a happy one.

The two howls came again and Jon shot a look at her.

"They're not in trouble…" He said.

"No." She shook her head. "They're calling us."

"What?" Gendry asked, looking confused. "Who is calling…"

He was cut off by the howls coming again. This time it was different though. Instead of just the two distinct sounds, she heard a third one join in. Her heart pounded within her chest, a familiar feeling washing over her.

Before she could say anything Jon was running out of the yard. A moment later she was right on his heels. The howling of the three wolves came again and again as they ran through the courtyard, passing confused servants and shouting guards.

Ser Willem was suddenly running beside her.

"What did he do?"

"What?" She asked, huffing.

"Jon. Why are we chasing him?"

The look she gave the man caused him to fall back a little.

When they neared the East Gate, a man standing atop the battlements shouted down.

"Ser Jon! A great many riders coming from the east! They fly the banners of House Mormont!"

"That's Lyra's party." Jon changed direction suddenly, running toward the stables where some men were readying horses for a patrol.

"I thought they were heading to the Dreadfort!" Arya shouted back.

The howls came again yet this time it was not a joyful feeling she felt. A deep feeling of unease rushed over her. Looking at Jon, she knew something was wrong because his face was now thick with worry.

"They must be back for a reason." His voice waivered.

He feels it too.

"House Umber!" The guard from above shouted down again. "Banners from House Umber as well! They've stopped riding! They come no closer!"

"Summon the Queen!" Jon yelled at the men about the stable. "Tell her we ride out to meet… someone! Willem!"

Jon hailed his friend as he took the reigns of a horse and climbed up and on it. Willem flew by her and was up on a horse a moment later. Men were shouting for the gates to be opened and as soon as she heard the clanking of the lowering gates, a hair-raising howl sounded again.

Nymeria was calling for her.

Arya saw another horse saddled and leapt to climb upon it, pushing aside its intended rider on his arse.

"Princess!" Marlen yelled as he rushed across the yard, his grey cloak flapping behind him. "Do not think to…"

His yelling faded as her horse was off and away, guards diving out of her path. She was through the gates and riding out before any even tried to close them again. The look on Jon's face when he looked behind him to see her gaining on him and Willem almost made her laugh.

If it wasn't for the feeling beating against her head.

Something is wrong.

Someone is in trouble.

In the distance, she saw the large group of riders the guards had spotted. They had stopped at the crest of a hill and made no effort to come forward. The ride towards them took so long that she had caught up with Jon and Willem long before they reached the riders.

Just then, the sounds of panic reached her and she reigned up her horse. Even over beating of her mount's hooves she could hear the yelling. Like she was right among the strangers.

Someone was screaming. She heard growling and shouts of men as well. Her senses all screamed at her like this was a memory. All around her were large men covered in furs. The screaming coming from a horse with two people upon it. The smells of fear so powerful she felt scared herself.

Suddenly she was back on her horse again as Jon and her rode right amongst the party, coming before the scene she'd only just left. Ghost and Nymeria were amongst the riders, pacing back and forth uneasily. A third direwolf, black as night and far more fierce was growling at their approach.

Shaggydog!

When her eyes moved on towards the struggling riders, her heart caught in her chest. Sitting upon the horse was a weathered-looking woman with a spear across her back. She was trying her best to hold onto a flailing boy.

A boy with red hair.

One she'd remembered as barely older than a babe.

"No! Stop! Not here!" The boy screamed and fought so much that the woman's face bled from her lip and she had a cut on her face. "I don't want to! Take me away! No Osha!"

Another rider was calling for him to be calm as Shaggydog began to prowl between Rickon's horse and the rest. He was snapping and growling, causing all the horses to become uneasy. Ghost was alert as well, watching all this silently. Nymeria was doing much the same but baring her teeth and growling as well.

"Lord Seaworth!" Jon called as he rode by her at a canter. "What is happening here?"

"Jon Snow!" The rider who had been trying to calm things stopped to look back at them, his face desperate. "The boy… the boy began to have a fit as soon as he saw the castle and that bloody beast of his…"

The woman shouted then and suddenly Rickon was flying from her grasp. The boy fell hard onto the ground, Arya wincing as he cried out in pain.

Don't let him be hurt, don't let him be broken.

He's just a little boy.

Jon was off his horse in a flash, barely landing upon the snow before running towards Rickon. Shaggydog took notice of that, turning abruptly and charging at him.

"Look out!" She shouted.

Jon jerked to face Shaggydog just as the wolf lunged up at him snarling. The attack never reached him though. Ghost came out of nowhere completely silent to attack the black wolf in mid-air.

The two became a snapping, snarling blur on the ground between Jon and Rickon. Her little brother still lay on the ground, unmoving, and her fear reached new heights. For the woman's horse was bucking at the sounds of the wolves fighting, its hooves falling dangerously close to the fallen boy.

Nymeria sensed the danger too and came running at the horse. Her biting and growling caused it to retreat away from Rickon. The poor beast went crashing into the other mounted men near it.

They swore as their horses became panicked as well. Some drew swords and Nymeria now challenged them. She leapt and snapped in the air, a man barely avoiding her jaws.

"By the gods!" Bellowed a large hairy man she recognized from feasts. "This is madness!"

"No swords!" She yelled, dismounting and running to Nymeria's side. "She's just protecting him!"

The men didn't listen and looked to be preparing to ride the wolf down so she drew Needle. The fear and need to protect Rickon taking her over completely.

Suddenly the blaring of a horn and the thudding of hoof beats pulled everyone's attention to a new group of riders coming toward them.

Sansa was riding up from the castle, flanked by Marlen and Brienne and a score of other men.

"Stop this! Stop this right now!" Sansa yelled from her horse, shooting a glance between Arya and the riders she faced. "Sheath your steel! All of you!"

The men who had their weapons out did so hesitantly as they backed their animals away from Nymeria. She found it in herself to lower Needle but couldn't bring herself to put it away quite yet.

Behind her, the sounds of the wolves fighting suddenly fell away. She saw a bloodied Ghost moving towards Jon just as Shaggydog was limping towards Rickon.

Who was no longer lying on the ground, but sitting straight up.

His eyes wide and staring at Sansa.

Rickon's hair was a wild tangle that hung well past his shoulders. Around his neck hung a necklace of bones he wore over his furs. She saw little of the babe she'd once known until she chanced to look closer at his eyes. They were bright blue, like their mother's eyes.

Those she knew anywhere.

"Rickon…" Sansa spoke softly as she stepped off her horse and took a tiny step towards him. "Oh Rickon, it's you…"

The boy looked at her, his face furrowed in confusion. Then Shaggydog was beside him and whined as he stared at Sansa.

Rickon whined as well.

"Rickon, don't be afraid… we won't hurt you." Sansa smiled as she took another step forward, her hands open and arms outstretched. Jon had moved beside her and Ghost stood warily watching. "We're your family, Rickon. We want to take you home-"

"Mother?" The boy asked softly, confusing Arya herself.

No Rickon, mother's gone.

Gods, did no one tell him?

Sansa must have heard it too because she stopped midstride.

"Mother?" Rickon repeated.

He rose shakily to his feet and wiped the tears away from his eyes with the back of his grubby hand. He sniffed loudly and started to walk forward.

"Oh Rickon…" Sansa started to shake her head but he was running at her now.

"Mother!" He was screaming now.

When they met he wrapped his arms around Sansa's waist, Shaggydog almost knocking Sansa over as he pressed at her as well. Sansa wrapped her arms around Rickon in return but her eyes were wide and she looked at Arya.

She doesn't know what to do either.

She looks as lost as I feel.

"Mother why did you leave? They came… they came and killed everyone…" Rickon's muffled voice came from where he buried his face in her skirts. "It was so dark… I called for you but you didn't come. Why didn't you come? Don't leave… please, mother. Please…"

Sansa was frozen and her mouth hung open, no words coming out. That was when the woman who'd been trying to hold onto Rickon stepped towards them.

"He's calm enough to move now." She made a face as she looked back at Winterfell. "If you want him in the castle, best if you ride with him."

"He thinks I'm…"

"Let him for now… it will be easier. Else we'll have to kill the beast to get him inside." The woman pointed at Shaggydog, who sat whining at Sansa and their youngest brother.

"Aye. The wildling speaks sense." The Greatjon said as he moved his horse forward. "The faster we do this, the faster I can get the onion knight good and drunk on castle wine."

"Rickon?" Sansa said quietly, running her hands softly through his wild hair. "Rickon, would you like to ride with me?"

The boy still murmured things, most of it muffled in her skirts. Sansa bent down and lifted him into her arms. Rickon's arms moved around her neck and his face buried itself there soon after. Jon and Ser Willem helped them up onto her horse and she turned it back towards Winterfell.

Willem, Marlen and the tall woman with the spear followed close behind as did Shaggydog and Ghost. Which left Jon and her to sort the mess out.

"Lord Umber… much has happened since we last saw each other." Jon said as he looked up at the large man and offered his hand. Arya thought the handshake just about ripped her brother's arm off.

"Took it back did you? That's a good ser. A conqueror like your brother!" The Greatjon laughed. "We'll trade stories and see who the bigger man is now."

Jon nodded as if in a daze before moving on to the man he'd called Lord Seaworth.

"My lord, it is good to see you live." Jon bowed. "Your king awaits you."

"King Stannis remains here?" Lord Seaworth looked towards the castle in disbelief and something like joy. "Lady Lyra led me to believe he might not be inclined to stay…"

"He demands Lord Manderly's head as we speak. I'd hoped your reappearance could settle that issue for us."

The man laughed in a wry way and Arya began to walk back to her horse when the Greatjon rode into her path. He whistled as he gazed down at her.

"Gods, so it's like Lyra said. Another wolf returned to Winterfell. Be that really you Arya Stark?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I remember you. My mother told you to be quiet when your laughing scared Bran."

It had been a summer feast to celebrate Rickon's birth and Bran was only four when she'd watched her mother scold the large man. The Greatjon burst out laughing as did many other men. Jon did not join in, he was watching Sansa ride back with a concerned look on his face.

"Ser Jon… you know this means there be two princesses now…" Lyra said solemnly as she rode up beside him.

As Sansa and Rickon drew in even closer to Winterfell she couldn't help but think the same thing.

Here comes the King in the North.

******A_Cold_Wind_Blows betas this work and he's awesome. I usually post snippets or previews on Tumblr. DolorousEdditor is the name so let me have it.******