A/N: New chapter guys! A day earlier than planned since I had rather a productive weekend of writing. Hope you enjoy it!

Guest: Rest assured the dragons won't be starving, someone will be looking after them with Theon gone and it won't be long before our Targaryen's head back towards Winterfell.

Guest: I'm glad you're still enjoying this one as it has quite a way to go yet! After this I'm thinking of doing something incredibly AU which kicks off just after the Rebellion and has Jaime making some very different decisions which change pretty much the whole storyline of GoT. That won't be for a long while yet though, I've only vaguely outlined my plan and haven't written a single word of it yet!

Right, on with the chapter lovelies!

:)

Reunited

Winterfell

"You're back!" Roslin exclaimed, hurrying towards Edmure and flinging herself into his arms.

"I promised you I would be!" he almost chuckled at her as he held her tightly.

"Edmure!" Catelyn called, hurrying over to him, "Gods it's good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you Cat," he released Roslin and embraced his sister for a moment.

"Thank you so much for everything, for Sansa … the men …" she told him.

"Family comes first Cat, you know that," he smiled and tears welled in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said firmly, "I mean it … thank you"

He beamed back at her before his attention was caught by a young woman hurrying over, stopping various men and asking them something in an urgent tone. He couldn't quite make out her words until she came closer, looking extremely frustrated and close to tears the nearer she got. When he heard the name 'Theon' he knew who she must be and the smile fell from his face.

"What is it?" Roslin asked him in concern and Catelyn frowned slightly.

"Is that woman Adele Greyjoy?" he asked his sister and she nodded.

"Yes but … Theon," Catelyn paled, "Edmure what happened to Theon?"

"Theon!" Adele turned sharply at her words, "Do you know where he is?!"

"He …" Edmure swallowed hard, "he was seen being dragged to the ships"

"Dragged?" Catelyn repeated.

"It looked like he had been knocked out," he continued and Adele clapped her hand to her mouth.

"They took him …" Catelyn was wide eyed, "but that means they must have recognised him … how could they have recognised him? He has been here since he was a child!"

"His pin," Adele whispered, finding his voice, "the kraken pin … I asked him about it and he told me it was all he had from his sister, she gave it to him the day he was brought here"

"Oh Theon you fool," Catelyn almost moaned.

"He'll be alright won't he?! They won't hurt him if he's one of them will they?!" Adele demanded.

"Of course not," it was Roslin who assured her and Adele nodded gratefully, missing the uneasy glance that Catelyn and Edmure shared.

Theon would be alright he had to be. Her hand fluttered across her stomach which now had a hint of roundness to it. It was still not common knowledge that she was with child but she had felt it stir inside her and had been thrilled. Theon would have been too, she had been waiting for him to come home so that they could tell everyone together. She turned away then, muttering her thanks and farewells as she could not stand the pity in everyone's eyes when they looked at her. They didn't understand the way she did that Theon would do anything and everything to get back to her because he loved her and she loved him. He would come home for her and their baby. Perhaps it would take him weeks … months, but he would come back, she was sure of it. She made her way slowly back down the streets towards their home, her steps faltering as she came closer. Suddenly going back in that house alone seemed incredibly daunting, the thought of walking through that door and finding that house empty filled her with crushing loneliness. Another step and she burst into tears, they had been threatening to come and she had held them at bay but now it felt as though she couldn't stop. Hands gently came to her shoulders then to turn her around and for a second she thought Theon had come, that they had been wrong. In the next second she was crushed into her father's arms and she clung to him, her sobs near uncontrollable now as he rubbed his hands up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her.

"He'll come … home … won't he …?" she choked out.

"I'm sure he's doing everything to get back to you sweetheart," he soothed her.

"I don't … want … to … to … stay there without … him," she sobbed.

"You don't have to," he breathed, "you can come home with me for as long as you need to."

Pyke

Gods his head still pounded. Even now after days it still throbbed dully. He blinked slowly, Gods it was dark down here in the bowels of the ship. Dark and cold. At least they gave him some blankets and actually remembered to feed him. He had constantly asked them where they were going but they gave him no answer and after a few days he had given up asking. The only thing he knew for sure was that they knew he was Theon Greyjoy and they hadn't killed him. Because of that he imagined that his father was all too aware that raiding parties were attacking the northern coastlines. Damn it all his head hurt. He lay back down, trying to shift into a more comfortable position which was made difficult by the shackles around his wrist that had him pinned to the wall. Where did the bloody bastards think he could actually escape to when they were in the middle of the sea? He snorted then. Damn it all he was stupid for wearing that pin but then if he hadn't then likely that brute of a man would have killed him. At least this way he had a chance of getting home. He thought of Adele and wondered if she knew yet, if the others had returned to Winterfell. Surely they would have. What would she think? He didn't know if anyone had witnessed him being dragged away. If no one had seen would he just be presumed dead and his body washed out to sea? Gods he hoped not. She didn't need to think that, the upset would be too great for her and it might put their baby at risk. He squeezed his eyes tight then as hot tears stung at them. Now was not the time to think about his wife and unborn child as he could hear footsteps approaching his prison.

"Time to go Greyjoy," the man said gruffly, approaching him with a set of keys.

"Go where?" Theon asked, massaging his wrist as the shackles fell away.

"Home," the man told him and he swallowed hard as he was pulled onto his feet.

The sunlight was blinding as he was led up on deck and then encouraged down into one of the smaller boats. He said nothing as they rowed ashore, his mind spinning, trying to think of some way out of this. Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely recognised this place now that his eyes had adjusted to the light. Pyke, his memory told him. This had been the place where he had grown up, these were the beaches he and Asha had run up and down. The sea they had swam in. This had been his final view when the ship had set sail for the North. He remembered the weight of Lord Stark's hand on his shoulder as he stood on deck and watched his home disappear from view. Only … this wasn't his home anymore. Winterfell was crammed with a thousand shining memories whereas this place was scattered with a dozen hazy ones, none of them as beautiful. The only good thing he could remember about being here was his sister, the rest meant nothing; not when compared to the laughter he had shared with Robb and the others. Not when compared to holding Adele in his arms or remembering the smile on her face when she told him they were to be parents. He shook his head slightly. He couldn't think of her now. Not now when hands were under his arms half dragging him ashore. They loosened their grip when it became obvious that he wouldn't run and he heard voices shouting out for horses.

Theon stood still semi dazed until they were brought and he was shoved towards them. He vaguely heard the threats as he pulled himself up. As if he was stupid enough to try and run. He was on a fucking island, there was no way he was getting away from here. Not by himself. Not without help. He trotted on after a few of his captors obediently, hearing more of them behind him, surrounding him just in case he tried to make a bolt for it. The keep loomed up eventually with none of the beauty of Winterfell. It looked as cold as he remembered his father being and he frowned as he desperately searched his mind for a memory of his mother. Adele had asked him about her once and he had cried in frustration in the end when he couldn't remember a thing. Adele had held him then and he had sobbed in her arms, furious with himself for being so weak and ashamed that he could have forgotten. That day he realised he loved her but it took him weeks to confess it to her. Now as they rode under the gates he wished he had told her sooner. Why hadn't he told her sooner?

He slid down from the horse as the others had, shivering slightly before a sharp finger poked him in the back and made him walk forwards towards the doors of the keep. They were thrown open as they approached and the huge man who had dragged him off and clubbed him bowed low before the throne his father sat. Theon frowned slightly, he remembered his father, but would he remember him?

"My Lord … we have him," the large man said.

"Who?" his father asked, standing up, his gaze sweeping the rest of the party.

"Your son my Lord, Theon," he answered.

"Where?!" his father demanded and Theon felt the sharp poke in his back again.

"Here," he spoke up, his voice thankfully not coming out as shakily as he felt it would.

"Come here," his father beckoned and Theon approached, his footsteps echoing eerily around the silence of the hall.

When he came to a stop in front of his father he felt his hand come under his chin and lift it. He swallowed hard but met his gaze, seeing something like recognition in his eyes before his lips turned up into a cold smirk. Theon refused to look away until he moved his hand back and Theon retreated a few steps before lifting his chin high again.

"My son returned to me!" Balon declared and the Ironborn present roared their appreciation; "Now what hold does the North have on us?!"

"None!" the cry came up from many, deafening to Theon's ears.

"We will conquer our enemies, make those who made us kneel, kneel to us! We will rise once more as Kings!" he roared and Theon's eyes widened.

"Kings?" Theon said weakly and his father turned his stare back to him.

"We'll make those Stark's pay for what they did to you," he promised.

"But …" Theon started to protest.

"They murdered your brothers and they stole you away … but now you're home where you belong Theon, at my side as my heir," he said, the smirk back on his face.

"Winterfell is my home," Theon said defiantly.

"What?" Balon whispered and an angry silence fell around the hall.

"My life is there … my home … my … my wife," he managed to get out.

"Your wife?" Balon repeated incredulously.

"Yes my wife!" Theon said pleadingly, "My wife who is carrying my heir, I have to go back to her!"

"Back to your northern whore?" he snarled and Theon winced.

"Don't speak about her like that," Theon said darkly, his fists balling at his sides.

"Are you more wolf than kraken boy?!" Balon snarled.

"I'm a man," Theon snapped.

"Not yet you're not," Balon replied icily, "you," he summoned a guard; "my son seems to have forgotten his loyalties … perhaps a night in our cells will remind him of them …"

Theon made no protest as he was hauled roughly away. His father could keep him locked down there forever if he must but he would not give up on wanting to go back to Winterfell. He didn't understand, for Theon it wasn't about taking sides, he just wanted to be happy and back with Adele. Damn it all. Why had he not listened to her and let Jory go instead? It was too late for regrets now though he realised as he was practically thrown into one of the cells. He made no cry of protest nor of pain and he didn't even try and make for the door. The man who had brought him down snarled at him once before slamming the iron door shut.

King's Landing

Erinne took a deep breath before following Shireen into the parlour where she was meeting for tea with her betrothed. The whole situation made her feel uneasy, Willas was technically old enough to be her father and Shireen was still a little girl at heart who still played with dolls. Willas stood, leaning on his cane for support when they entered, bowing as best he could.

"Your Graces," he greeted.

"My Lord," Erinne met his eyes as he straightened up; "I am merely here to chaperone the Princess, pay no mind to me"

"As you wish my Queen," he said and she smiled faintly before retreating to the corner with her needlework.

She heard Willas and Shireen exchanging greetings, his voice kind and gentle and hers soft and meek. Erinne shook her head slightly, likely this wasn't ideal for either of them but what choice did they have? Stannis had made his decision and now both of them had to live with the consequences. She found herself hoping that Shireen would be late to flower so the wedding would not happen right away. Her moon's blood may make her ready to bear children but it would not make her a woman. Shireen was a child herself, all of this was so wrong. Erinne wondered how her mother had ever allowed it but then she remembered Shireen's words. Innocent musings of a child or words of warning? She didn't know and she was afraid to ask.

"Do you play chess your Grace?" Willas was asking then.

"I know a little my Lord," Shireen nodded.

"Do you fancy a game?" he asked her and she nodded shyly again.

Erinne turned her eyes back to her needlework as they set out the pieces of the game. They spoke a little more as their game progressed and she just kept stitching, resisting the urge to look up and steal a glance at them. At least Willas would be kind to Shireen … gentle. Erinne had no doubt about that. He was a good man.

"And now there …" he said then and Erinne looked up, "I have your Queen," he said, his eyes meeting hers as he took the piece from the board, a knock sounding at the door as he did so.

"Enter," Erinne called out, snapping her eyes to the door.

"Forgive me my Queen, the Princess had been summoned for a dress fitting," Loras bowed to her.

"Must she go now?" Erinne questioned.

"It is for the coronation your Grace," he said and she sighed heavily.

"Very well, Shireen, Ser Loras will escort you," Erinne smiled towards her and she rose up.

"Thank you for a wonderful game," Willas smiled then and Shireen smiled shyly back at him.

"Thank you my Lord," she curtseyed before hurrying towards Loras.

When the door closed behind them Erinne stood, locking eyes with Willas for a moment before she crossed quickly to him, dropping down on the sofa beside him and clutching his face in her hands at once. He leant into her and their lips met, melting together for the first time in what felt like forever. She let herself go then, go back to the past, back to that tourney where they had snuck around in the shadows and stolen secret kisses. Back to the night before he competed in the joust where he promised he would win for her and then ask her father for her hand. That day she had looked on in horror as he rode against Oberyn Martell, had cried out in anguish as the horse had fallen on top of him. Still he had asked her father and he had said no. It mattered not that he was still heir to Highgarden, he demanded better than a cripple for her and she knew better than to protest. She felt his hands tangle in her hair then as their kiss deepened, his tongue moving so deftly with hers, the taste of him so familiar.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, pulling away; "I'm so sorry!"

"No," he kissed her again, "I'm sorry … I was such a fool thinking I could win … I should have secured your hand long before the joust"

"Now it's too late," she said sadly, stroking her hand down his face and he closed his eyes at her touch.

"I have thought of you every day," he breathed.

"And I have thought of you," she replied, pressing herself closer to him.

"Gods I never want to let you go Erinne," he growled, holding her tightly against him.

"You have to," she whispered, a tear escaping her.

"I know," he almost moaned.

"I never asked for any of this … you have to believe me," she met his eyes as she pulled away.

"I know," he held her gaze and another tear slid down her cheek; "tell me you're happy …"

"I can't," she whispered and he closed his eyes again, in despair this time.

"Tell me what I can do," he breathed, pressing their foreheads together.

"There is nothing you can do … he is the King and I am his wife, I must give him a son lest I end up like his last Queen," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" he asked her urgently.

"I do not know for sure but I suspect it was him … I don't think she fell Willas … I think he pushed her," she confessed.

"How do you know this?" he demanded.

"Something Shireen said … I cannot prove it, and even if I could …" she trailed off.

"He's the King," Willas said bitterly.

"Exactly," she nodded, "I don't want his child … I … I have taken moon tea but … but now I'm afraid to do it again in case he finds out … and if I am not soon with child I'm afraid of what he might do to me!"

"Stop it," he urged her, "don't say such things … we will fix this Erinne trust me … Loras is … Loras is working on a plan, he is determined to be rid of Stannis"

"But how long will that take?!" she asked him desperately.

"I don't know," he said mournfully.

"I can't stand it! Him touching me … him … coming to my bed …" she choked out and his hands balled into fists behind her back.

"I hate the thought of him there but it is how it must be for now," he said.

"If I am not soon with child then he will grow impatient … suspicious even," she said fearfully.

"Trust Loras," he implored, "and if it comes to it you will have to lie"

"Lie?" she repeated.

"Yes lie, tell him you're with child, at least then he may cease coming to your bed," he said.

"He will kill me," she whispered.

"Only if he finds out," he said firmly, meeting her eyes until she nodded her agreement.

"I'm scared," she told him.

"Loras will take care of you I promise … he will protect you," he swore to her and she nodded again.

"I love you," she whispered and he crushed his lips back to hers for a long moment.

"I love you too," he said fiercely when he pulled away; "and when this is done with not even the Gods will stop me making you mine."

Sunspear

Oberyn paced in agitation which was only heightened as Doran had refused to be anything other than his calm self as he carried on writing his papers. Damn it. Was he not in the least bit curious? Oberyn has been trying to convince his brother to write to the new King Stannis and demand the head of Gregor Clegane but Doran was being stubborn. Now was the perfect time in Oberyn's mind, now when Stannis was only just beginning his reign and when everything was still so unsettled. A few veiled threats about rebellions and Dorne being uncooperative may have just swayed the man to his way of thinking. Even without the threats Oberyn thought that Stannis might give them what they wanted, give them their justice for Elia. Oberyn had met the man at tourneys over the years and from what he remembered he was not the type to let rapists and murderers become part of his Kingsguard. Still Doran had refused to send any kind of letter though and Oberyn was just getting irritated when the messenger had come and announced that an unexpected guest was on the way to speak with them. Curiosity got the better of him then and his thoughts drifted to the approaching visitor, his pacing only getting more agitated as the minutes ticked by. Finally a knock sounded at the door and Doran called for the visitor to come in.

Oberyn's first thought was that he did not look much like a murderer. His second was why in the seven hells he had decided to come here of all places.

"Lord Tyrion Lannister," the messenger announced and the Imp bowed.

"Prince Doran, Prince Oberyn," he nodded to them in turn.

"You have travelled far my Lord," Doran commented.

"Far indeed," Oberyn agreed, "out of curiosity, are you still a Lord?"

"Honestly I have no idea, but by the end of all this I certainly intend to be," Tyrion smiled.

"Indeed," Oberyn said quietly, appraising the man in front of him and deciding he was impressed.

"What brings you to Dorne?" Doran asked then.

"A eunuch named Varys who spun some fabulously unbelievable tales for me which I cannot help but be taken in by," Tyrion answered.

"Go on," Doran urged him.

"You had a Targaryen nephew," he began, seeing Oberyn's fists ball at his sides; "long believed dead … I however have information that he is not in fact … dead"

"Impossible," Oberyn snarled.

"The boy was swapped before the sack of King's Landing and the deplorable acts that were carried out in the Red Keep," Tyrion explained.

"Acts so deplorable that those responsible were knighted?!" Oberyn raged.

"That was not my doing," Tyrion tried to soothe him.

"Explain everything Imp, I am losing my patience!" he snarled.

"Oberyn … peace …" Doran cautioned him as he glared daggers at Tyrion.

"The real Aegon was smuggled to Essos where he was raised by Jon Connington. However, since certain events have unfolded he has sailed back to Westeros. He is currently in the North and has gained the support of the Starks who have his aunt as their ward and, if rumour is to be believed, as their future Lady. I don't know if you know much of Ned Stark but he is no fool, he would not be easily hoodwinked or taken in by an imposter. He is a cautious man, a good man, if he has allied with Aegon then you can stake your life the boy is no imposter," Tyrion finished.

"You really believe this to be true?" Doran asked him, meeting his eyes.

"At first I thought Varys was being absurd, I dismissed it as lies but … I have to say he weaves quite a convincing tale and as I have already said, Ned Stark is no fool," he replied.

"No," Oberyn agreed, an uneasy look in his eye; "what do you want from us? You didn't come here just to tell us our nephew lives"

"Will you support his claim? Help him to the throne?" Tyrion asked.

"Will you?" Oberyn retorted.

"I intend to sail to the North and I intend to throw myself and my brother on his mercy … I can only hope Jaime is doing the best he can to endear himself," Tyrion replied.

"Kingslayer," Oberyn snorted, "you think you can earn him a pardon? Are you sure Aerys was the mad one?"

"I confess it will require rather a lot of persuasion," he admitted.

"And you want Dorne to sweeten the deal … promise our support in return for your brother's freedom?" Oberyn raised his brows, a mocking smile on his face.

"What else?" Tyrion raised his own brows; "Don't stand there and pretend you don't lust for it … for revenge against the Mountain. Do you want Aegon to have all the satisfaction of ripping him apart or do you want to be there to help him avenge his mother's death?"

A/N: A few twists thrown in there! Hope you enjoyed them!

More soon.

:)