Hello all! Wow, thank you so much for all your kind words on the last chapter! They honestly mean the world. And thank you so much for reading, and continuing to read. We're really getting to the crunch now...stay tuned! xxx

Robin was very much in shock. He remembered little of the journey to the royal chambers-it seemed that he had blinked, disappeared in the entrance hall, then reappeared sitting on the couch with a blanket round his shoulders. He barely noted the bang of the door behind Ser Brienne as she took up her sentury position outside. The only thing he was certain of was his husband.

"Promise me you will never run away unguarded again." Brandon was saying. His expression did not betray a hint of emotion-but his eyes incredibly intense. "Promise me."

Robin hiccoughed slightly, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. It was more than comforting. His heart was still racing from the fright, his skin clammy from swooning, his mind still swimming. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, a final tear spilling down his cheek. "I promise…" He gulped, trying desperately to pull himself together. "Oh, for the sake of the gods, the last person I ever expected to see in the slums of Flea Bottom was Stefan. He was supposed to be at Riverrun!"

"Yes." Brandon agreed flatly. "He was."

Suddenly, as he attempted to brush his cheeks dry-a thought struck him. He looked into those omniscient eyes, thinking of all they saw, all they were able to see… "Did you…did you know that Stefan had come back?"

Brandon could not lie. He nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me!" Robin cried, his voice raising a fraction. Annoyance stirred inside him-and an acute feeling of being kept in the dark. "I would have thought that was the kind of information one should share with one's consort!"

Brandon was silent for a moment, before, with an air of admitting something dreadfully unpleasant, he responded. "I wanted to protect you…" He sniffed slightly, as if disgusted by his own concern.

"Bran." Robin leaned forward, the blanket slipping slightly, and covered Brandon's hands with his own. "Before we were married, you told me that you'd never infantilize me."

With the smallest shrug of his shoulders, Brandon nodded again. "You are right. I apologise. I was wrong."

Robin was most touched by the admission of guilt; he had certainly not been expecting to receive one. Perhaps that was one good thing about the king-if he believed an apology was necessary, he would give it without qualms. Nonetheless, he squeezed his hands gratefully. "Thank you. I suppose it's all done now…" He shivered, holding on tighter. "I cannot tell you how afraid I was. My mind…" Slowly, he raised his fingers to his forehead, and pressed them there, as if he had a headache. "As Stefan raised his dagger…I saw everything. My whole life. Like it was happening right there in front of me…Oh Bran, it was awful. And if that's what it's like to be you all the time, then I couldn't be more sorry!"

Plainly, Brandon did not quite know how to respond to this. He opened his mouth, as if to disagree, to reason that it was not comparable in the slightest…then, thinking twice, he closed it again. "The important thing is that you are unharmed." he finished instead.

"Yes-thanks to you!" Robin's eyes lit up once again, becoming very soft as he regarded his husband. "If it wasn't for you, I would be bleeding to death in a slum!"

Now, Brandon looked almost embarrassed. "You needn't say all that. Really."

"But I want to!" Robin exclaimed joyfully. "You ought to be hailed as a hero. Besides-I am proud that my husband is as brave as a knight…" He bent his head, and kissed Brandon's hands. Meanwhile, the king's expression had become rather thoughtful.

"When I was a child…" he mused, his voice very soft. "Before my fall…I thought I wanted to be a knight…" His eyes became glazed over in a dream of the past…before, abruptly, they swivelled back into place. "Foolish, really. Fate had other plans for me."

"Well…" Robin was not in the mood for Brandon's dismissiveness. Instead, he took his hands once again, looking rather playful. "You did save me. You rescued your beloved from mortal danger, from a terrible fate. I am sure I have read many such poems, and heard thousands of such songs. That makes you as good as a knight by any account."

He had said only half-seriously, meaning to send his husband up. However, as he was fast becoming accustomed to, Brandon's face did not change in the slightest. Merely, in a flat tone, he replied:

"Perhaps."

At this-Robin almost gave up. Being married to Brandon was hard work. And yet, he adored him far too much to resent him for a nature he could not help. Instead, he giggled good-heartedly, shaking his head. "You know that you can smile, right, darling?"

"I know." Brandon agreed, in a plain statement of fact.

"…Will you?" Robin was almost begging.

Once more, Brandon's expression became quietly thoughtful. "It is so easy to create a false smile simply by moving your lips…I will not do any such thing." However…his fingers laced their way carefully into Robin's. "But that doesn't mean I am not pleased."

Robin rolled his eyes. Why did Brandon have to always be so difficult? As if the young king needed another facet to his already aloof and abrasive persona. "Do you know? I think it would do me good to see you physically smile sometimes…"

"I think it would do me good to kiss you again."

It was so funny to hear such words uttered with Brandon's customary seriousness that Robin burst out laughing. It was so good to laugh…so good to laugh after such a horribly scary evening… "Really?" He became impish again, beaming in spite of himself. "And what makes you think I am going to do that?"

It was probably just his imagination-but Robin could have sworn he saw the tiniest glint in Brandon's blank, staring eyes. "What happened to me being a knight and saving your life?"

"Oh gods, I do hate you sometimes!" Robin spluttered, a warm glow filling him from within. Now, as he leaned forward in a pantomime of reluctance, he closed his eyes, and tried to block out the rest of the world as he kissed his husband again. He was beginning to grow used to the feel of Brandon's lips on his-though they were cold and strange, they were not unwelcoming. To kiss the Three Eyed Raven was certainly not an experience any person living-or perhaps anyone in history-could relate to.

"You don't hate me." murmured Brandon as the kiss broke. He looked so much more comfortable in the privacy of his chamber, his hands clutching Robin's tightly. "I know."

"And how do you know?" Robin jested, raising an eyebrow.

"I know everything."

Robin wasn't sure whether Brandon was intending on being so amusing-but he chuckled anyway, kissing him again. "You funny old thing..." His voice became rather syrupy as he patted his cheek. "You sit, and you stare with those awful glaring eyes, and you scare everyone in the vicinity out of their wits…but you're all heart, really, aren't you? You're just as sweet as lemon cake!"

At this sugary outpouring-Brandon suddenly frowned defensively-though his eyes were very wide. "That is not true in the slightest."

"Yes it is!" Robin giggled, kissing him yet again. He felt Brandon's lips beginning slowly to warm under his. "It's just the way I like you. And don't worry." Gently, he buried his fingers in Brandon's hair, brushing it affectionally out of his face as he went in for yet another kiss. "I won't tell anyone…"

Despite himself, and looking most affronted at its audacity-the corner of Brandon's mouth twitched. "Good."

Alyssa had been huddled in the basements of the Red Keep for some hours. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself against the underground coldness. Still-some discomfort was a small price to pay for the prize that awaited her.

With all the commotion, it had been easy enough to give poor Podrick the slip. Besides, if the boy even spoke of her at all, it would be only of her heroism, her determination to save the prince consort from death. She smiled to herself, proud of her own cunning. Thanks to the stupid Vance boy, everything was falling perfectly into place…

Though she had checked a thousand times before, she felt carefully in her pocket for the familiar coldness of her weapon…then, as quietly as she possibly could, she began to hum to herself in the silence of the cavern.

High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…