A/N: leave a review! xo.
"How did the boy die?" asked his lord father uneasily.
"Tommen was found with a golden satin pillow over his face, Father." Garlan added, "He was wearing his crown." Father gaped for a moment then spluttered shocked,
"But I ordered that all the jewels being taken away and locked up, once our armies took this blasted city. So the Lannisters could not bribe a guard to free them with gold. We had guards protecting the boy to keep him safe." And to make sure he didn't escape.
"I know, Father." Garlan shivered at the image of the poor boy's lifeless body. Garlan was no fool to believe that the boy would have been safe if Stannis Baratheon had not been focused on battling Aegon out in the open field somewhere in the Crownlands or the Stormlands. Maybe it was an assassin sent by Lord Baratheon. Nevertheless, Stannis or Daenerys Targaryen should have been the ones to decide his fate. But someone else had decided otherwise.
"They'll blame us for the boy's murder. I cannot be seen as a second Tywin Lannister. I was keeping him safe," blustered Lord Mace Tyrell. Yes, until someone conquered the Iron Throne and decided the fate of Tommen Waters and Cersei Lannister.
"I have drafted an announcement for you. As well letters to all the lords of the news and your lack of involvement. If they are to your liking all is needed is your signature. Would you like to write to Willas, and Margaery, yourself?" He placed the letters on the wooden table.
"Good, good. I'll look them over. Best you write them, I haven't the time to write to your brother and sister, myself. I have to make sure these people don't throw the food I have supplied them at me cause they think I had a bastard boy king murdered." Lord Mace heaved himself out his chair with some difficulty due to his weight. "Neutrality until someone gives us the best deal," he muttered. Garlan did not think his father had much cause to worry over the death of Tommen Waters, politically speaking. The pious Faith Militant would declare that the Gods had punished the boy for his incestuous parents and being a living sin. Others would not care really that Tommen had been killed. One less obstacle to the throne. The small folk would not care as long as it did not affect their access to food.
"Yes, Father. I shall do so after I go to the dungeons to inform Cersei Lannister about her son." Mace nodded and waved a hand for him to go on ahead. Garlan strode out of the council chamber still internally shuddering at the image of the dead golden boy.
Sansa was in a state of fright as Robb had left Castle Black suddenly with no proper explanation as to why. He had sent a short missive without stating the reason of his return to Winterfell. The war was far from over. It did not help that they still did not know why. Was there a power struggle between Robb and the dragon queen? What happened at Winterfell or Castle Black to have caused the King of the North to go to Winterfell?
What did it mean? Why so suddenly and without word sent to us?
"It's the dragon queen, my lady," Yvaine had hissed quietly.
"Jon says some of Robb's men have remained at Castle Black. If it was discord, then why would the northern men not follow my brother, their King?"
"It's not safe for you here, my lady." Nowhere is safe.
"I am safe here with Jon."
"I am sure you felt safe with the Lord Greyjoy before he died." Sansa felt a lump in her throat. Oh Theon. She touched her necklace and bit her lip, trying to keep tears at bay. Sansa frowned at the wet nurse.
"Jon won't let anything happen to myself or my children." And Jon won't get hurt or die. I couldn't stand it.
"My lady, that's exactly why the dragon queen does not want you standing in her way."
"How would I go to Winterfell now?" Robb has gone without me.
Yvaine had suggested she hide from the dragon queen somewhere most unlikely. Why do I need to hide? Not somewhere in the Riverlands or the North, Yvaine had suggested. The plan would be to dye her hair black to match her daughter and son's black hair, to remove her most recognizable feature. Sansa saw the flaws in this plan straight away. Jon would look for her. Ghost would know or sense something amiss. Robb would imagine the worst and the very bloodshed Sansa wished to avoid could ensue if she disappeared. Sansa did not want to leave Jon either.
What should I do?
"They say the horrible foreign fire priestess had the Lord Baratheon's younger brother killed. The handsome one who everyone liked. Got rid of his brother for him. Isn't she at Castle Black with the dragon queen? I know someon- somewhere you can be safe from them."
After many long days alone with Yvaine and her paranoid talks, she came believe it was imperative that she leave Shadow Tower. As a result, Sansa always felt bolder as if it was the last time she would see Jon as if she were going to actually slip away with her twins and Yvaine. Sansa was bolder in her kisses and touches. When she felt the fleeting moment that this was it, she would sneak out Shadow Tower to hide at the Fingers or wherever Yvaine suggested. Jon pulled her black robe style gown to cover her nakedness, whilst breathing heavily and his grey eyes flushed with desire.
"That was unexpected—Mallister or someone could walk in—we should go over the figures—", stammered Jon. You want to do accounting at this hour. His hands were still on her waist, holding her in the space between him and the desk. "I—I enjoyed that very much but—"
"I'll go then," Sansa murmured looking at the floor. This is it. Sansa went to kiss Jon goodbye. Don't start crying. But the look on Jon's face stopped her.
"If the twins didn't need that woman's teats to be fed. I would have sent her away by now." His voice was quietly angry.
"Oh?" feigned Sansa. "What has the wet nurse done to offend you?"
"I overheard her trying to endanger her charges by planning a trip." He knows. Sansa tried not to look him in eye but she wanted to see if he was angry or judged her a terrible mother. "Of all the things to scared of, you don't need to be scared of me, Sansa."
"That's why Ghost snarled at her," she spoke aloud. She was about to berate him for warging, whilst riding Rhaegal. What if you fell off? How foolish.
"Sansa, talk to me."
"I—" Sansa began. There was a loud knock that caused Sansa to jump away.
"My Lord, another raven for you from the Mother of Dragons." Sansa's blue eyes narrowed. Of course, she would interrupt even though she is far away. Dark wings, dark words. The man came in and delivered the letter. As the man left, Sansa went to follow but Jon stopped her.
"Stay, Sansa. I want you," pleaded Jon. She nodded and gestured to the unread letter on the desk.
"You should read it, Jon." Jon sighed and slowly unraveled the letter. Sansa waited and wondered what Daenerys wrote to Jon as he read it by the flickering taper. She kept herself from hovering over Jon's shoulder to read it herself. She watched his every facial and body movement though. His body stiffened and his calloused hands trembled with rage. "What is it Jon?" Jon didn't answer her. Sansa was going to press him to tell her what Daenerys wrote, but the horn sounded thrice, signaling an attack by the Others. Shouting of the men followed outside.
"Go to our chamber with Ghost," ordered Jon shoving the letter inside his pocket.
"Jon," insisted Sansa. Jon rose from his seat and bent his head to kiss her.
"I love you."
"And I you," declared Sansa but he had opened the door already and the wind was so loud that he likely didn't hear her.
Sansa stood on the ramparts of the Wall with Ghost that night. She would go to the chamber soon to wait for Jon as he asked her to do. Staying out of the way of the men who were catapulting flaming—well anything they could manage to spare—down at the Others and wights. Less and less men went out to fight the Others on foot as more and more became wights. She could hear Lord Mallister shouting orders as the men scrambled to ready the catapults for another round. But Sansa remained focused on the flying dragon as it weaved and dived down to burn the Others. Sansa never went near the green dragon even when Jon went to feed it. She did not marvel at the creature or see beauty in it. How can one see beauty in a creature of death and destruction? Aye, the giant scaled beast was a great aid in destroying the Others, but all Sansa could think of was it's capability to bring upon utter desolation to the North all the way to Dorne. Sansa questioned the strength of the connection between Jon and Rhaegal. There was never a fear of Ghost turning on Jon.
"If only you could scorch the Others, Ghost," sighed Sansa. "I'd be less worried if you were with him."
The journey from Castle Black to Winterfell was long and grueling. The wind was so harsh and bitter cold, that only the Mormonts, Ser Rodrik Cassel, and Lady Brienne of Tarth braved it to greet King Robb and his small retinue in the early hours of morning. He nodded at their greetings and thanked them. Robb answered their inquiries about the war at the Wall, but added he would answer in fuller detail in the council room later on in the day. Maester Luwin greeted him inside the warmth of the castle.
"How is she?" demanded Robb urgently. Maester Luwin sighed,
"Better and worsening at the same time, I am afraid. Thankfully, it's not the greyscale that I feared she contracted. She had all the symptoms at first apart of the skin turning grey and scaling. I have been scouring the books and writing to the Citadel. Don't fret, Your Grace."
"Only myself, her maid Gilly, and Lord Mormont have visited her." Luwin added, as the tall armored Lord Mormont held the wooden door open for his younger cousins as scampered in quickly. When Robb walked into Margaery's chamber, what he saw was not what he had expected. She was thinner and her heart shaped face was slightly gaunt. Her glossy honey brown hair was dull and limp. Margaery as petite as she may be was a sturdy young woman. Presently, she looked as fragile as one of those exotic glass vases. Robb sat down on the bed gently and placed a hand on her pale cheek. It wasn't feverish or cold as the dead. Her tired doe eyes fluttered open at his touch.
"Hello, sweetheart," breathed Robb before leaning down to kiss her dry lips. She smiled at him and her hands that had been under the furs reached out to touch his beard and curls, then clasped his hand.
"Hello, my wolf," greeted Margaery with a rasp. She turned her head to cough. She continued with a more normal voice, "I am so happy to see you."
"I've missed you so." Her brown eyes watered.
"I'm sorry, I told Maester Luwin you would worry. I'm not dying, you shouldn't have left the Wall." Margaery frowned.
"I would have made any excuse to come home anyway. You come first. They'll manage the same without me there for a bit."
"How are things up there? I'm positive they are keeping me uninformed on purpose to prevent me from becoming distressed. It's been driving me mad." Her eyes lit up with impatience.
"Well enough. Many men have been lost, but with the dragons the war looks winnable," answered Robb. "Morale is high despite the awful conditions we are in with the stores of food and supplies going down." He left out the factions of opinion. Margaery nodded.
"Ships can't make port. White Harbor may soon be frozen over if it's not already." Margaery pursed her lips gloomily. "I have been so useless lately. Uncle Bear—Jorah has—" Robb kissed her gently interrupting her.
"Smile for me, love. I have missed that smile of yours," murmured Robb as he kissed her. She smiled as he kissed her neck. "Thank you."
"Go meet our daughter and see our boy, Robb." Robb ached to go see their children but he also did not want to leave Margaery's side so soon. Margaery nudged him. "Go. I want to brush my hair and changed into a fresh gown."
"I want you there too, sweetheart." Margaery's encouraging smile faltered and she looked away.
"No, Robb. I can't, I'm terrified Elora will get ill. She's so tiny. Take a hot bath or wash your hands and face with warm water. They say even a touch can spread illness." Her face was so fearful he went to pull into his arms and soothe her.
"Margaery—"
"Robb, please. I haven't seen her since I have taken ill. Or Eddard. I have been so afraid that I had gotten them ill or that I would pass my illness to them by even being in the same chamber as them. I'll be overjoyed that one of us can see them and hold them." She burst into tears, which caused her cough horribly. Robb felt scared and concerned.
"Should I call for Maester Luwin?" asked Robb rubbing her shoulder, not knowing what to do, other than holding her in his arms. He scanned the chamber for a pitcher of water or ale to give her to hopefully stop the coughs.
Margaery managed to gasp out in-between coughs, "No, it will pass. Just send for Gilly." Robb nodded numbly.
"I'll be back soon, sweetheart." He gave her hand a squeeze before calling for Gilly.
"Has the coughing been like this or has it been worsening?" questioned Robb to Gilly who came down the corridor with a jug and linen in her hands. Gilly frowned and fidgeted.
"Some days ti's better and some days are so bad Her Grace can't rest. Ti's her lack of eating that worries me, Your Grace. Not grey death, thank the Gods. Maester Luwin pricks her finger to make sure. I should get this to her if you'll excuse me, sire." Robb slowly made his way down the dark corridor digesting Gilly's words. He ordered for a washbasin of warm water, remembering Margaery's instructions. Robb splashed the water on his face until his beard was drenched and let his hands sit in the warm water until they went pink.
Robb found Grey Wind in the nursery already. Rickon shouted and hugged him. Shaggy Dog sniffed him. Rickon was taller, his face thinning out from his babyhood face. His hair was shorter yet still wild and unruly as his personality.
"I've missed you, Rickon."
"I saw you coming home. I smelt you and I smelt Lady Meera. She smells like a muddy pond," declared Rickon. "Arya ran off to see Gendry ages ago." Robb noticed his son staring at him as Grey Wind sniffed him.
"What do I smell like?" Robb asked as he gave his youngest brother a second hug.
"Like my biggest brother." Robb kissed Rickon's red hair and when Rickon pulled away from his arms, "Eddard is far more interesting to play with now. Look! Eddard, it's your father."
"Come here, my boy," beckoned Robb with a broad smile, arms stretched out. Eddard gave him a toothy smile and made his way across the room to him. "Remember me." Eddard smiled at him and shyly didn't say anything as Robb scooped him up.
"Fatha'," Eddard said as he jabbed a finger at his nose. He kissed his firstborn, which caused Eddard to squeal with laughter as his beard tickled.
"Mama?" queried the little boy who looked around Robb's head. "Mama?" Robb's heart hurt at his boy looking for Margaery's face.
"Your mama's is—sleeping," replied Robb lamely as he stroked his son's auburn curls.
"Mama!" insisted Eddard loudly. Robb was on the verge of breaking down, as his son's face grew distressed.
"Eddard, look Elora is awake," called Rickon. Eddard continued to look for his mother. Robb walked over to the cradle.
"Can you tell me who this pretty little princess is?"
"Eh-lora," screeched Eddard who leaned down to jab a finger almost in his sister's eye.
"Gentle," reprimanded Robb as he moved Eddard's fingers away from Elora's eyes. "She needs those." Eddard squirmed out of Robb's arms, leaving Robb alone with his little girl. Soft straight red-brown poked out of her ivory cap. Her little gown was pale blush muslin. She had on stockings of warm soft grey wool. She appeared to have kicked off her knitted grey blankets in her pursuit to peer over the edge of the cradle. Hello my baby. He picked up Elora. Light as a bird. Robb soaked in every little detail of his daughter. He saw a miniature nose of Margaery's. His hair color, eyes, and his chin. Elora made squawking noises reminiscent of a seagull, then blew wet raspberries. Robb laughed. He stood silently, with his cheek softly against his baby's head. He was too emotional to speak aloud as Elora touched all the different textures of Robb's furs, armour, and leather jerkin.
"You are the most beautiful little girl I have seen," cooed Robb giving her a kiss on the cheek. Let's pray your mother gets well soon.
"Why won't they listen to me?" growled Dany furiously. She had been spat on by a wildling girl for punishing the man who tried to abduct and rape her.
"The free folk have different customs than the rest of Westeros," explained Maester Aemon patiently.
"It's utterly barbaric. They live on this side of the Wall now, they should abide by the customs of my kingdoms. This practice of stealing women has to end. Can you imagine if they practice this custom on farmers or village folks' wives and daughters?"
"Lord Commander Jon has given them land to settle on in the Gift. The free folk won't trouble you in the South, my niece."
"I wasn't just talking about the wildlings, Uncle Aemon. Since Stark has left, I feel like everyone is not listening to me." Only the fear of Drogon compels them to grudgingly listen. These wildlings aren't like the poor slaves who called me Mother or chanted my name.
"You must be a little more diplomatic yet firm," suggested her elder.
"I am not a politician," exclaimed Daenerys dismissively. "I am the queen. Their queen."
"The skill of a politician is needed in ruling, Daenerys. You are still young enough to learn. Since, the North and the Trident have seceded, you may have only four kingdoms to rule, but they won't be easy to rule. Repairing relations with Dorne is also vital. I suggest, perhaps a marriage with Prince Doran's youngest son or appointing Princess Arianne a seat on the Small Council of your choosing."
"Prince Quentyn died trying to get me to marry him. I am not interested in marrying any Martell. Lady Sansa can marry Trystane or even my Hand Lord Tyrion." Provided, Tyrion keeps her at Casterly Rock.
"Lady Sansa Stark is not a subject of yours," reminded Uncle Aemon. "Her brother, King Robb has the rights to arrange a marriage for her."
"She is a Greyjoy now isn't she? The Iron Isles and her children are still subject to me," retorted Dany. She liked the idea more and more since Lady Melisandre had given her the inspiration to solve her problem of Sansa Stark Greyjoy.
A/N: Hello! Finals have ended, so hopefully I am back to updating more frequently. Thank you for the reviews!
How is everyone liking Season Five of GoT?
To a reader who asked what was the point of having Arya in this story: I have always wanted to write in more than two character's POV. Arya is an important character in the books/show and in the beginning of my story I thought her POV was important.
