Chapter 36

Ser Rolph Spicer watched his niece prepare for tomorrow morning's departure. Her husband was one of the few Frey men who would not be riding into battle. Instead, the King had entrusted him to ensure Riverrun and the Twin's protection. Oswell's father would hold a garrison at Harrenhal to protect a second attack, should Lord Tywin decide to send an army that way.

Shaking his head, he turned away to look back at the hall - the laughter and discussions happening inside.

That dragon whore had wedded his niece to a Frey. He cursed before walking down the steps, pushing his way through the crowd. She had burned those who had conspired against her and her King, set the men of House Frey up in flames, had those crazed mutts attack them. House Bolton was on the run. The North was reclaimed, and the King's bastard brother had been told. They were annihilating everyone.

But he was still here.

"What do you think," Jeyne bounded towards him, a genuine smile on her face. She was in love with her husband - that much was obvious. And he hated the Queen even more for it. "The Queen said that there is a small godswood within Harrenhal's walls. She hopes the next time she and the King visit, I will have it looking beautiful that they may hold a tourney there. Can you imagine it, Uncle," she smiled with excitement. "I would be a hostess to a tourney where the King and Queen are present."

"And what a lovely hostess you will make," her husband came towards her, picking Jeyne up in his arms and twirling her around.

Jeyne cried out in bliss, playfully demanding that he put her down.

They were besotted with one another.

He turned away from the scene to look out at his nephew, Raynald. Raynald was being left in charge of a small army of Frey men - they would spy on the Lannister forces and inform the King of any movement.

This isn't what he had planned. Jeyne was supposed to seduce the young King, take his attentions away from his wife and the tension would cause the North and Riverlands to tear apart - allowing House Bolton and House Frey to destroy the King in the North and his hidden Targaryen Queen. He shook his head and looked down. Tywin should be informed about this new development. But Rolph knew that it would be best that he stayed near the Twins or perhaps his nephew, so he could gather more information.

Tywin would want more information - that cunning lion, Rolph thought with another shake of his head. If he could be the one to supply detailed information about this supposed Targaryen Queen, then perhaps Tywin Lannister would double the rewards for him and his sister. House Bolton and House Frey had failed, but House Spicer was not.

"Uncle," Jeyne touched his arm, pulling him away from his musings.

"I think it's very lovely, Jeyne," he nodded. "Your father is returning home, I understand?"

She nodded eagerly before her husband kissed her cheek and departed. "I will see you," she told him as their hands slowly slipped from one another.

"My sister is happy," Raynald argued.

"Your mother is upset," Lord Gawen informed his son.

"Father," Raynald walked closer to his father, "Jeyne confided in me. She doesn't want to be a part of mother's plots. They've gotten us nowhere. Do you know how kind it was of the Queen to wed Jeyne to a decent Frey - one that has treated her admirably and adores her? I don't know of many Queens who would allow young women who desired to become their husband's mistress to be given such liberties."

"Your mother has sent a raven to Lord Tywin..."

"I don't care about that."

"You should," Rolph spoke up. "This is our family. And we're allowing that bastard Queen..."

"She's not a bastard," Raynald argued. "Did you not hear what they are saying of her? Not to mention that she used fire to burn half of House Frey! Only a Targaryen could do something like that!"

"Tywin Lannister swatted House Targaryen as though they were nothing," Rolph reminded his nephew. "He could do it again. We'll help him do it again. He'll give us a place among the great Houses."

Raynald stepped back. "Not with me and Jeyne."

Gawen had decided against it as well. Raynald had convinced his father that Jeyne was happy, satisfied where she had been placed. But there was always more. House Lannister would have given them a better offer. He narrowed his eyes at Raynald's company preparing to depart. "I think I'll go with your brother," Ser Rolph informed Jeyne as she smiled at him. "I want to see what sort of defense he'll set up."

"He does a decent job of things."

"Aye, he does. But I want to make sure. After all, he'll be protecting you also," he turned to his niece, giving her a false smile.

"I still can't believe you're going," Nysa commented as she shook her head annoyingly at Harrion Karstark.

Harrion had been walking her around the Twins, looking at the gardens and the various changes that had happened in recent days. "The Maester said that walking is good exercise for women whom find themselves with child. I decided to join you because I still do not trust House Frey," he chuckled before she reached over and hit his arm.

He looked behind them to see Lady Tyta narrow her eyes at him, but she otherwise kept her post, guarding the Queen. Along with her were two young Frey women - Alyx and Merianne - Wyl, a guard from Winterfell, Corgan and Roland Blackwood, Lord Blackwood's nephews, and of course the Dornish woman they called 'Lady Nym'.

"I don't trust the Dornish, either," he whispered but from the way Lady Nym's eyes fell upon him, it was obvious that she heard his comment.

"May I remind you that I'm half Dornish," she replied with a smile.

"To me you'll always be from the North," he smiled back at her, turning away from the guards accompanying her. "And your father just happens to be Prince Rhaegar Targaryen"

"I know," Nysa sighed. "I'm still having a tough time wrapping my mind around the matter."

"What still amazes me about all of this is that Lord Stark was willing to betroth a Princess of the Iron Throne to House Karstark," Harrion teased.

"I believe he knew that House Karstark would take care of me," she looked up at Harrion as all teasing disappeared. "He knew Torrhen would care for me." Harrion smiled, pressing a kiss upon her forehead. "Do you object of how I handled Ser Jamie?"

"He is Ser Jamie now," he shook his head.

"Harrion..."

"What happened to 'Kingslayer'? You listened to his sad stories and immediately let your emotions override your good sense."

"I do not want us to argue about it. I do not want House Karstark to think that I forgot about Torrhen."

Harrion scoffed. "So, you still think of my brother, do you?"

"I'll always think of him. You're treating me unfairly, Harrion," she sighed heavily, feeling her eyes grow heavy with tears. Nysa's feelings always varied these days and Lady Catelyn explained to her that most women tend to feel a wide range of emotions when they are with child. At the same time, she didn't want to sound like a child herself. "What is it that you wished for me to do? We need to get Sansa back."

"This isn't some desperate attempt to claim the crown? He'll betray you the same way he betrayed your grandfather."

"With what hand," she questioned with an incredulous tone. "I cut off his sword hand. I stabbed his foot, causing him to limp - possibly for life. Those are things he has to endure now, the same that you and I have to endure Torrhen's loss." Harrion looked away from her. "Harrion, please. I do not want us to argue anymore. At least..."

Harrion paused in their walking, so abruptly that it caused Lady Tyta and Lady Nym to go on the defensive. He snarled at them before marching towards Lady Nym. "The Queen doesn't need protecting from me. I would never harm her, and she knows it."

"Then perhaps, Lord Karstark, you should watch how you treat the Queen," she threatened.

"Stop this," Nysa said in a stern tone, picking up her dress and walking towards them. During their small altercation, Corgan Blackwood had moved the two young Frey women behind him as Wyl and Roland had drawn their swords in anticipation of an attack. At Nysa's command, they all had eased up - except Harrion. She touched his shoulder which made him take a step back and away from Lady Nym. "Please, Harrion," she said softly as he looked at her. "As for what Lord Karstark said, is correct," she looked at her cousin. "I trust him. Please," she gestured to the dagger her cousin was holding which she twirled and placed it back into strap at her side.

Harrion was holding the hilt of his sword and released it when he saw the Dornish woman warrior surrender to the Queen's command.

That had been a few moments ago. Now, they were speaking of Harrion's departure with the King. Nysa was against it - strongly against it.

"I'm keeping a few guards back with you as extra security."

Nysa shook her head. "You mean you're keeping them back because you trust them."

"Smalljon will do his part, that much is certain. And I have faith that Lyra Mormont will defend you to the death. But those ones," he looked at Tyta and Nymeria behind them. Nysa sighed as Harrion pulled her some distance away from the group. One look back from Nysa told Tyta to pause. "Forgive me, Nysa. Yes, I do not trust them with your safety. And yes, I do not like the idea that the Kingslayer is alive because I do not trust his words. He may have taken care of you as a little girl, but he can't be trusted to take care of you now. I detest that you speak of him as though he's been protecting you your entire life. Your mercy is abundant that I'm afraid someone will take advantage of it."

"You are a dear friend, Harrion. And I appreciate your opinion on the matter, truly I do," she looked up at him. "But I feel as though we are so close to getting Sansa back, to going back home, to ending this war. I don't want to be remembered as the Queen who burned House Frey or the Queen who murdered little boys from House Lannister. I want to be remembered as the Queen who showed mercy and gave these Houses a second chance."

"Do they deserve it, Nysa?"

Nysa closed her eyes and looked down.

She felt his lips press to the hair on her head. "You will always be like a sister to me. Do not forget that I watched you grow, I watched you and my brother fall in love. I will protect you, even if that means protecting you from harmful decisions," he pulled back as she looked at him. "I will support you, no matter the throne you sit on. But I will not stand by and watch as House Lannister and House Frey betray you again."

Sansa watched as her husband read the parchments in front of him. She would sometimes go down to spend time with him in his study as he poured over the accounts and various work that he had to do. He was rather important - she noted. At least the job that he had was. It was something that Petyr Baelish had done before. Apparently, he had not done it too well. At least, that's what she thought.

Tyrion looked up and caught her gaze, causing Sansa to blush slightly at being discovered in her actions of staring at him. She immediately glanced back at her needle work only to notice that she was creating the sigil of House Lannister.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening, Sansa," he asked, causing her to raise her head.

Giving him a bewildered look, she shook her head slowly. "Did you need me for something, my Lord?"

Tyrion smiled at his wife's formality. He had informed her more than once that there was no need for her to call him such. Realizing why he had smiled, another blush tinted Sansa's cheeks.

"Did you need me for something, Tyrion," she restated, causing his smile to lessen.

It wasn't so much a grin anymore. But more so of a peaceful smile.

"I wanted to know if you would like to have a few young Ladies to sup - something of a celebration."

"What are we celebrating?"

Tyrion's smile disappeared completely before he leaned back in his chair and returned with a thoughtful look. "I assumed that it was your name-day."

Sansa's face must have lightened with recognition because he continued.

"Is it true or..."

"It is," Sansa nodded. "I just didn't think that anyone would," she paused and looked back down. "We do not need to do anything. I'm fairly content with..."

"Sansa," Tyrion demanded in a firm tone. She wasn't frightened by it or startled. However, she knew that he was about to insist in her rights. "You are my wife. You are a Lady from a great House, wed into another great House. You should have fine things."

Sansa gave him a small nod as he cleared his throat and pulled out another parchment. "What would these festivities include?"

"Whatever you wish," Tyrion answered as he started to write. "If you want me to offer suggestions, I thought you could invite Lady Margery and a few others to dine with you. My cousins are visiting the Capitol. They would like to meet you also."

"Oh," Sansa responded in surprise. She had been expecting Lady Margery, but she had not thought about receiving any Lannister guests. "Who are they?"

Tyrion paused before looking up to reply. "Lorena and Lya Lannister, daughters of Ser Loren Lannister - my," he cleared his throat and gestured for Podrick who was standing in the distance. "My mother's brother."

Sansa had not heard much about Tyrion's mother - only what Cersei and Joffrey had spoken of. She wanted to ask him questions, wondering if they were true. Was Joanna Lannister truly a beautiful and kind woman as they say? She once heard Cersei bitterly say that Tyrion had taken their mother away from them. She could not understand the meaning behind it.

"They are here for the royal wedding," Sansa asked, steering the question in another direction.

"They are here for safety."

Whatever response Sansa was expecting, it wasn't that.

"I do not know how updated you are on your brother's pursuits, but I am told that many of the Westerland Houses have surrendered to him. He has captured many of their castles and there are some - who have heard about the Twins - have bent the knee."

"Your father can't be pleased," Sansa commented.

Tyrion chuckled. "No, he most certainly is not, especially since a few Lannisters left the Westerlands and came here to the Capital."

"Such as your mother's brother," Sansa implied.

"Yes. Ser Loren's son was captured, two of his sons were captured. He fears for the rest of his children. So, he has brought his daughters here."

"I am sorry for his sons. Were they killed in battle?"

"Apparently, they are being held by your brother," Tyrion explained as Sansa looked down and nodded her head. "I am told - through rumor - that your brother's wife has been keeping them safe. She was even the young maiden who saved Ser Stafford's life - another brother of my mother's."

His wife gave him another nod. "Your father informed me of such - of Ser Stafford that is."

"Yes, I'm sure he has."

"He's also told me that my brother's wife has killed the Mountain," Sansa's eyes met his. Her voice took on a different tone. It was determined and sure - not the frightened and submissive gentleness she held before.

Tyrion picked up the cup that Pod set next to him and took a long sip before returning his glance back at his wife. "You can always speak your mind with me, Sansa. So, I will ask you for an honest answer. Do you believe that your brother has a chance at winning this war?"

"I do," she replied loud and clear. Her chin lifting and her back straightening. "If they are proclaiming that Princess Rhaenys Targaryen is alive and that she has been living this entire time in Winterfell - growing up among Lord Stark's children, that she is wed to my brother - the King of the North, the King of the Trident - then yes, I do believe that my brother has a chance at winning this war."

Tyrion watched as a smile graced her pretty face. She rarely got to speak about her family this openly - this freely. And he allowed her every moment of it.

"Do you believe that Nysa is Rhaenys?"

"Prince Oberyn is there isn't he," Sansa questioned. "Didn't Dorne proclaim her as Queen? We knew her mother was from the South, we just never ventured to guess which House it was. And something about what your said when we last spoke," she thought out loud. "He said that my parents had raised Nysa to be my equal. I always believed that my father was a kind man. That he felt indebted to Ser Martyn Cassel for some reason - that's why he took in Nysa. But he knew, my mother knew," she looked up at Tyrion.

"I remember your father and mother always calling her 'Lady', treating her like one."

"She used fire once, I remember," Sansa recalled.

Tyrion tilted his head. "Used fire?"

"To heal," Sansa answered, "to save a child's life, two children in fact - House Glover and House Karstark. Many of the Northerners speak of it."

"They place her in high-esteem." Tyrion looked down at the table before jumping off his seat and walking to stand in front of Sansa. "Sansa, I will not breathe a word of this to anyone. You know that I haven't, and I never will. But did you know who she was?"

Sansa shook her head.

"Did your brother know who she was?"

Again, she shook her head. "It is as I've told you before. Our parents never said anything. Everyone believed that she was the daughter of Ser Martyn Cassel and a young Lady from the South."

Tyrion nodded. "You will not speak of this to my cousins or Lady Margery, understand?" Sansa nodded. "And as for your hand-maiden, perhaps one of my cousins would like to serve you while she is here in the Capital until we can find you another."

"Whatever happened to Shae?"

A sad smile formed on his lips. "She had to leave, be with her family I assume. I paid her handsomely for her service to you."

"She was one of my only friends here."

"I know," he nodded. "Perhaps you will find a friend with my cousin. However, please be cautious when speaking to her about your family."

Sansa shook her head. "I do not speak of them at all to others, only you," she placed her hand on his, causing him to feel warmth and comfort. He smiled and without thinking, moved to press his lips to her forehead. He listened as she sucked in a breath, a soft gasp - before he stepped back. "I trust you, Tyrion."

"I don't know if I can be a very trusting husband, but I will be a friend, Sansa. If you ever wish to speak of anything, openly, you come to me understand?"

"I will."

Tyrion smiled before walking towards the other end of the room. "Before you leave for the night, there is something I must tell you about your other brother."

"I've heard of Jon's desertion from the Wall."

"Forgive me," he turned to face her. "I meant of Bran and Rickon, the younger ones."

Sansa looked interested in what he had to say.

"Word is that they are alive," he said which got a surprised gasp from Sansa's lips. She moved her hand to cover her mouth. The feelings so uncertain, so ecstatic, so unbelievable, so indescribable that she felt tears touch her fingers. Tyrion offered her a smile as he let the news settle in.

He remembered that she had wept for them. She had prayed in the godswood for hours on end until Joffrey had sent guards to watch over her - as though she were conspiring in a holy sanctuary. Her face was blank and impassive at dinner, yes, she learned how to clothe her true emotions away from the court. She curtsied and presented herself prettily as though nothing were wrong. But he knew, Tyrion knew.

"It cannot be," she whispered.

"You know that Lord Bolton..."

"He had betrayed my brother," she nodded, remembering what Tyrion had told her.

"He was the one who informed my father that your younger brothers were alive, and that Jon Snow had reclaimed Winterfell for House Stark."

She released a sob, a joyful sob before standing up, rushing towards him. Tyrion's eyes widened as she embraced him, leaning her head against his shoulder as she knelt. He wrapped his arms around her frame as she cried blissfully. She thanked Tyrion repeatedly as she clung to him. Her heart feeling lighter than it had in moons, in years. Her family was alive.

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

Her pack - her family.

They were safe, they were alive!

No matter what was done to them, what they had to endure, Sansa thought, they were going to survive.

Pod returned to the room when he heard the commotion, but Tyrion waved him away.

Robb pressed a kiss to Nysa's forehead before lifting her head to press a gentle kiss on her lips.

"May the Gods keep you safe, my wife," he whispered before kneeling in front of her. He gently rubbed her stomach, feeling the babe move inside. Robb pressed his lips to her belly, then rest his forehead against it. "May the Gods bring you safely into this world, my little one." He lifted his head to look at Nysa. "I'll see you both when I come back."

"Please come back," she replied softly, reaching out to caress his cheek.

Robb turned his head into her palm, closing his eyes to the gentle touch. He knew if he didn't leave now, that he wouldn't leave at all. Quickly, he stood and turned away from Nysa walking towards the Greatjon who had his horse ready for him. He looked around the courtyard, as a few others were saying their farewells. His mother had come out then, stood next to Nysa.

She was Rhaenys Targaryen - but to him she would always be his Nysa.

Prince Oberyn bowed his head to Robb. He was leaving Prince Oberyn to command the Dornish army at the Twins. Edmure had left the day before along with several Lords of the Riverlands to return to their castles and set up a defense, should Lord Tywin send an attack from King's Landing through the Riverlands. However, should forces get through, Prince Oberyn was there to guard his niece. Smalljon was ready to get Nysa out should it come to that. They had escaped many things, but he didn't want to leave anything to chance.

Jory held his arms around Marissa as she wept softly. They had made love long into the night and early this morning when they rose. And when he left their bed to dress, her tears had come out in earnest.

"The King is leaving," Jory reminded her.

She shook her head and looked up at him. "My eldest sister, Amerie - her husband left for war and he never returned."

"That will not happen to me, I assure you."

"How can you tell," she asked as he wiped the tears from her cheek.

"Because I have a wife that I want to come back to," he smiled as she shook her head and gripped his tunic.

It would be just like him to jest at a moment like this. He had welcomed her mother with open arms to live with them at Greenhall in the North. However, when it was suggested that her eldest sister come as well, he had put his foot down and said 'no'.

It was no secret that she had shared her bed with a couple of their cousins - Black Walder included. And since he had been one of the conspirators to the Red Wedding, it was something that Jory couldn't quite forgive just yet. Marissa understood that. And she had heard whispers that her sister was desirous to become her husband's mistress. So eventually she did agree with Jory. Amerie could not come to the North. However, the feeling of doubt did grow in her. Jory was in his right if he took a mistress. As if knowing her feelings, he had objected to the idea and began to remind her that if he was returning to his castle and to his bed it would only be to return to her.

And at this moment, he had said the same.

"My sweet Marissa," he pressed another kiss to her brow before leaning in to press his lips to hers.

She welcomed him eagerly before he pulled away, marching towards his horse and mounting it. Her mother came to stand by her side as she turned to her and began to cry. She liked Jory, she liked Jory a lot. She wanted to go to the North, she was desperate to start her life, build her home. What was she going to do, if he never came back?

Jon Umber was a typical Northerner, Lyra Mormont thought as she rolled her eyes as he sang - the wine sloshing from his cup.

"I am supposed to retrieve you," Lyra stood in front of him as he requested that another Frey maiden pour him more ale. "Jon," she sternly said his name.

"Relax," he stood up and handed her his cup. "I'm not intoxicated," he belched loudly before turning around, lifting his hands as they cheered and continued to sing.

Lyra licked her lips and went to turn around. But Jon took a hold of her.

"Dance with me," he requested as he pulled Lyra's body against his.

He looked down at her in a way that made her feel awkward inside. She felt his body under his clothing - hard and warm. What was happening to her? Whatever it was, Jon noticed as he wrapped his other arm around her and began to sway them to the soft music being played in the hall. Her cheeks had never felt so warm before as his eyes twinkled.

When his hands slipped further lower around her bottom, she remembered why she had come here to retrieve him.

"We're supposed to be watching the Queen," she pushed away his hands and walked away from him and the other men as whistles and jeers followed her out of the hall. "Men," she muttered as she slammed the door. One of the serving maids was about to go in with another pitcher. "They do not need any more wine," Lyra told her. "Start serving them water. We're supposed to be on guard."

"Yes, my Lady," the maiden bowed her head as she turned and motioned for two others to follow her.

Lyra kept her hand on her sword as she walked towards Nysa's chambers. Rhaenys - she corrected in her head. Her best friend was Rhaenys Targaryen - a lost Princess. And if Lady Stark was correct, Jon Snow was also a Targaryen. She wondered at how Lord Stark felt hiding two children who belonged to House Targaryen. True, one of them was kin. But Nysa was not, prompting her to ponder about all the reasons Lord Stark would carry out such an action - against his best friend, Robert Baratheon.

She arrived at the door and noticed that Corgan and Roland Blackwood were about ready to fall off to sleep. "Oi," she called out as they jerked to a stand.

Corgan - the older one - addressed her first. "My Lady," he went to bow but shook his head. It was obvious that he needed to sleep.

"Go," Lyra gestured for them to leave. "Both of you. I'll guard the Queen's doors."

"The King wanted at least two people posted..."

"Two people who are alert and ready," Lyra finished. "The two of you look exhausted. All is quiet. Lady Tyta just returned from a perimeter check. Lady Nym has guards at the wall. They've both retired for the evening. I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow is another day."

They both still looked as though they didn't want to listen to her. In fact, they hardly listened to Tyta, either. And supposedly Tyta was kin. Then again, if Tyta's kin from House Frey were ready to kill her, she was quite certain that her kin from House Blackwood wouldn't listen to her. She wondered why Nysa had agreed to take on more guards. It complicated matters.

However, she knew that the King had requested that she have at least five more personal guards. Lord Blackwood volunteered his nephews - Corgan and Roland - for the task. Jory had assigned Wyl and Cayn. Nysa trusted them. They were also guards that had seen her grow at Winterfell. She knew they would protect her. And then Harrion Karstark had assigned Waylyn - a House Karstark guard - to protect Nysa also.

"But..."

"You heard the Lady," Jon barked from behind her.

That's right, Lyra thought. She forgot that the King assigned Jon Umber to serve as the Queen's personal guard instead of his own.

She saw Corgan and Roland Blackwood leave quickly as Jon moved to take his post at one side of the door. "Forgive me, for earlier," he mumbled, without looking at her.

Lyra shook her head and looked away. "You are forgiven. You were deep in your cup. In fact," she went to stand in front of him. "I think that you should go sleep, too."

"I'm an Umber," he finally met her gaze. He said that as though that was the answer to all the problems in Westeros. She shook her head again, opening her mouth to rebuke him. "Lady Lyra, there are a many thing that I am still capable of doing, whether I have had one cup of ale or a dozen. Believe me, I am able to guard the Queen."

She sighed and nodded, turning to walk towards her post.

"I heard that your cousin is serving the other dragon in Essos," Jon stated. Lyra stopped in her tracks. "It's probably not wise for me to speak ill of those who are dishonorable," he said as Lyra flinched, her hand tightening on her sword. "Those who are dishonest," Jon added, "those who betray their Lord, their land and run away like cowards with their tail between..."

Lyra pulled out her sword and swung it at Jon. Jon lifted his sword up and stopped hers. They both stood there, pushing their swords against one another, their eyes studying one another intensely.

"Choose your next words wisely, Umber," Lyra snarled.

"With Houses switching loyalties, I need to be sure of the people I fight with," Jon pushed the sword in the other direction, causing Lyra to take a step back. "A Mormont has betrayed the North before. I want to make certain that it won't happen again."

"Nysa and I are friends!"

"And the news about her being a dragon, that doesn't concern you in the least," Jon tilted his head towards Nysa's door.

"We all knew that she was different. We all knew that she was from the South."

"But we didn't know that she came from House Targaryen - the very House that kidnapped a young lady from the South and murdered Northern Lords."

Lyra's eyes narrowed at Jon. "Lyanna Stark wasn't kidnapped."

"But Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark were killed by the Mad King," Jon reminded her. "I don't hold those crimes against Nysa because she was a child. I'm come to know enough of her that she would have spared them," his voice grew soft as he sheathed his sword. He placed his hand on the door. "She was raised in the North, will always be known as Lady Nysa Snow to me, now Queen Nysa Stark. My loyalties lie with my King and his Queen - regardless of the House she came from."

Lyra sensed sincerity and honesty in his voice. "I guess with Bolton's betrayal, it's hard to tell who is truly on the King and Queen's side," she stated, putting her sword away as she looked him straight on.

"Are you not the least bit concerned about her being a dragon?"

Jon tilted his head, studying her.

"It was shocking," Lyra replied honestly. "Lord Stark took her in, raised her as a bastard to hide who she truly was. To me she was always my friend - she spent some time on Bear Island."

"She spent some time with several Northern Houses," Jon pointed out. "I think it was to ensure that she would be well-respected for who she was, not what House she came from."

"I feel like we were tricked - all of us," she admitted. "Lord Stark never spoke of it to anyone. And according to the King - his mother and his father had agreed to never speak of it to one another again. Jory Cassel just discovered who she truly was a moon or two ago," she shook her head. "Why all the deception?"

"To keep an innocent child safe," he answered.

"But it was all a lie," Lyra insisted. "Nysa told me that she was mistreated when she came South. The only reason why we respected her, and Jon was because Lord Stark had said that they were to be. You and I both know that bastards aren't given a place of honor."

"And yet that's exactly what Lord Stark did," he added with a knowing smile. "He made sure that both Rhaenys and Rhaegon were treated like royalty. He showed them mercy, and I believe that's why our Queen will do the same. We have nothing to fear just because she came from House Targaryen. As difficult as it is for all of us to grasp, she loves the North - Lord Stark made sure of that. The North loves her, too. And Jon has been given a title above anyone else in the North. He is our Prince."

"They both don't look like they belong to House Targaryen," Lyra smiled, remembering Nysa's statement about wanting silver hair.

"No, they don't," he agreed. "If not for Nysa's gift, I doubt any of us would have believed Lady Stark," he paused and looked out into the distance, "or Prince Oberyn for that matter."

"What is your take on him?"

Jon smiled at her question. "I don't like his daughters, that much is certain," he nodded as Lyra smiled politely. Lady Nym intimidated her and Tyta. Whenever she asked something, both Lyra and Tyta would begin to doubt whatever it was they had done. And Obarra, Lyra thought as she steeled herself. That one always looked ready to hack someone's head off. "He's also very ambitious," Jon said as they both turned to look at one another.

"He wants his niece on the throne," Lyra didn't dismiss his point. Prince Oberyn had stated very plainly to everyone that Nysa - Rhaenys - should take her rightful place on the Iron Throne.

"Nysa doesn't want it," Jon responded before sighing, "something else that I find endearing about our Queen. She only wants to protect the North, protect her home, protect those under her care."

"So, you do not mind it in the least that she came from House Targaryen?"

Jon cleared his throat and went to stand. "I am upset that Lord Stark covered up his sister's indiscretions with Prince Rhaegar. He lied to the North, to everyone that knew him in Westeros. They all believed that Prince Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark. And now, to hear that she ran away with him - because she found herself pregnant with Jon? She was betrothed to another man." He shook his head. "Good men died that day. There are men from the Riverlands who lost their lives, too."

Lyra knew this and wondered if everyone had thoughts like her and Jon. Not everyone had been accepting of it.

"And placing Nysa in the North - influencing the other Houses to trust her, honor her? That was a bold move," Jon confessed. "It could have gone either way, to be honest. But the North does trust Nysa, they trust Jon. Look at what he's done," Jon smiled and shook his head. "He helped rid the North of the Ironborn, he reclaimed Winterfell, he saved House Karstark and House Glover and so much more."

"You..."

Jon looked at her. "I will follow my King and my Queen. The North's freedom lies with them."

Lyra nodded.

"And what about you, Lady Lyra," his eyes narrowed. "Does the idea of serving a dragon make you question your loyalty?"

"My loyalty is to the North, to House Stark, to my King and Queen. You need not worry about me," Lyra lifted her chin and turned to march to her post at the end of the hall.

"Another reason why I asked is because I heard my father and your mother arranging a marriage between our Houses."

Lyra stopped again.

"Your sister is the heiress to Bear Island. And Alysanne is currently wed to a bear - whatever it is that you Mormonts believe." "

A part of her angrily ticked inside. She despised it when others - men especially - would question their birth. She was certain that Dacey was unaccepting of the stories, Dacey looked like she may give Ser Perwyn a chance - if he fought hard enough for her. A man needed to be strong for them. It was the reason why Alysanne had kept to the myth, had truly believed that her children were born from a bear. No man could tempt Alysanne.

"So, the next to wed would be you," Jon suggested.

Was this the reason for his flirting? Was this the reason why he had gotten familiar with her? And the questioning of her loyalty, she bit her lip to stop herself from cursing. Oh yes, because Smalljon Umber would want a wife who followed his lead. Well, that wife would not be her.

"You're a fine man, Jon Umber," Lyra took a deep breath. "But I have no desire to wed you."

"It's a shame," he chuckled as she glanced at him over her shoulder. "I think you and I would have had some good times." She bristled and walked away. "For what it's worth, I've heard that you and my brother exchanged vows under the heart tree."

"We had barely seen our eighth name-day," Lyra stopped again, stomping her foot down.

She, Nysa, Osric, Robb and Jon Snow - Rhaegon now - were chasing one another in the godswood at Last Hearth. Robb had presided over the wedding - since he was the heir to House Stark. They had exchanged vows and shared a kiss - a rather disturbing kiss. But that shouldn't have counted. The way Jon was looking at her would suggest otherwise.

"I am not wed to Osric!"

Jon chuckled and sent a cheeky wink her way. "We'll see when we return North."

"I will not wed an Umber," Lyra stated confidently, but Jon looked away from her. "I'm being serious!"

"What is going on out here," Nysa pulled open her door as Jon continued to laugh.

"Forgive us, Nysa," Lyra replied. "We were simply discussing matters."

"Marriage matters to be exact, my Queen," Jon smiled and looked back at Nysa before bowing to her.

"I do love match-making between Houses," Nysa smiled as Lyra rolled her eyes. "After assisting House Bracken and House Blackwood, and now arranging the marriages for House Frey, House Tully, House Mallister and House Westerling, I think that I should turn my attention to the Houses in the North."

"Please do," Jon nodded, conspiringly glancing towards Lyra. "What are your thoughts on my brother and Lyra?"

Nysa's eyes widened. "Lyra," she placed a hand over her heart. "I had no idea that you desired to be wed. Oh dear, what sort of friend am I that I did not assist you further in this venture?"

"A good friend," Lyra snarled at Jon.

"You should speak to my father and Lady Mormont when we go back North," Jon suggested to the Queen.

Nysa smiled brightly at the task. Lyra couldn't believe what was happening. "Good idea, Smalljon," Nysa patted his hand. "That is exactly what I should do. In fact, if I remember correctly, didn't you and Osric," she turned to Lyra.

"No, we did not. We are not. And we never will be," Lyra said as this time she did march down the hall and towards her post, leaving behind a bewildered Nysa and a laughing Jon.