A/N: New chapter guys! Hope you enjoy it.

Thought would be awesome, I think some of you will be raging. (Hopefully at a certain character and not me!)

:)


A Clash of Kin


Dawn broke blood red and Elissa shivered as she pulled herself out of bed, tucking more furs around Torrhen before pulling on her robe and putting her feet into a pair of fur lined slippers. The days were getting colder and the nights longer. There was frost lingering on the window panes as she glanced out at the sky, her breath steaming in front of her. Winter was coming fast, soon it would be upon them – she hoped the war would be over by then, Robb safely back in her arms. She shuddered slightly as she looked at the red of the dawn. A red dawn meant blood would be spilled this day. That's what the old tales said. She pulled her robe further around her and tore her eyes from it before padding back to the bed. Torrhen was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling steadily, soft snores coming from his mouth. She watched him for a while and wondered what Robb was doing now. If the old tales were true he would be preparing for war. She closed her eyes then and prayed hard to the warrior.


The army was hopelessly outnumbered as Robb and Jon stared down the hill towards the advancement. The men were ready. They were ready. As soon as the order was given they would charge and the threat from the Vale would be eliminated. Robb looked to Stannis on his left then and the older man gave him a slight nod. He was ready too.

"Shall we get this over with?" Robb asked.

"Why wait?" Jon countered with a smirk and Robb almost grinned.

"Ready!" Robb called out and he heard the answering call of the men behind him.

He unsheathed his sword then and heard thousands of men repeat the action behind him, he kicked his heels into his horse then and the cavalry led the charge down the hill, the footmen following on behind, running as fast as they could towards the enemy. They cut far too easily through the first few ranks of men before the army from the Vale seemed to get themselves organised. An arrow hit the flank of Robb's horse and he reared slightly, Robb clinging to the reins to steady him, sliding from his back when he was back on all four legs.

Jon he saw was also on foot and he slashed his way towards his brother. He was breathless when he got to him and covered in blood and sweat but he still managed a smile which Robb returned. They fought back to back then, slicing through any man who came at them. It was as Robb sliced through a man's neck that the cry went up.

"Victory!" he recognised the Greatjon's booming voice.

"They're fleeing!" another voice roared out.

"Coward's!"

"Craven's!"

"Victory!"

"King in the North!"

"Dragon Queen!"

Jon and Robb locked eyes then and grinned at one another. It had been easy just as they had predicted. Almost too easy Jon thought as he glanced back up the hill. They were an hour's walk from camp, it would have been shorter if he still had his horse. He glanced around the battlefield then, the stench of blood and dirt stinging his nostrils. He wondered vaguely how many they had lost as he saw the Northmen, Unsullied and Stannis' men all banding together to help their wounded comrades. Unity. That's what they needed above all else and it brought a smile to Jon's face.

"Shall we?" he said to Robb, nodding towards the hill, wanting to see his wife more than anything.

"Lead on," Robb said, rolling his shoulder in its socket. It hadn't aggravated him too much but he knew it would be stiff come morning.

They trudged up the hill in mostly silence with the other men. Robb looked behind him when he reached the top and saw the number of wounded that were being helped up. It looked a couple of hundred at least, he wondered how many of the men would live to fight again. He turned away from bleak thoughts then and continued on towards camp, seeing the various banners fluttering in the breeze that was cool and welcoming on his skin. A bath was what he needed and a large flagon of ale. The men would want to celebrate tonight and there were inns near-by that would no doubt be dry by morning. There would be drinking and whoring in camp tonight and Robb could not deny his men some spoils. With the wounded they had they would probably stay permanently at this camp for a week at least – he couldn't complain too much, it was in a good strategic position.

Jon clapped his shoulder when they reached the heart of camp, his eyes flickering to the tent he shared with Daenerys and Robb knew he wouldn't be seeing his brother for a while. He clapped Jon's shoulder in return in smiled at him.

"Come and share a drink with me later brother," he implored him.

"I'll catch up to you," Jon nodded with a grin.

"You better," Robb said, slapping him once more on the back before making his way to his own tent.

The Smalljon distracted him though as he made his way to it, an odd faraway, glazed look in his eyes that Robb had never seen before.

"Something wrong?" he asked him and he seemed to snap out of it.

"Raven's from Winterfell," the Smalljon told him, handing him a letter of his own.

"Are you alright?" Robb persisted, for once not tearing the seal on Elissa's letter right away.

"Sansa …" he swallowed hard, "Sansa is with child"

Robb's eyes widened for a moment before he caught his friend in a fierce embrace, the Smalljon gripping him back tightly as his wife's words finally began to sink into him. "I'm going to be a father," he laughed out then and Robb released him, a laugh escaping his own lips as they looked at one another.

"We'll drink to it tonight," Robb promised him.

"Aye," the Smalljon nodded, "… Gods … I have to tell my father"

"He was just behind us," he said.

"Thank you," the Smalljon nodded before walking away, a slight spring in his step.


Daenerys pressed herself closer to Jon, her desire heightening as they kissed furiously; his hands coming to the back of her dress to loosen the ties. He was just tugging them free when someone cleared their throat behind them and they pulled out of the kiss, both wearing identical looks of fury when they saw who had interrupted them.

"Sorry your Graces," Tyrion said brightly, sounding anything but sorry.

"I'm sure you are," Jon almost growled, re-lacing Daenerys' dress.

"What do you want?" she snapped, not pleased at his interruption.

"The returned men expect a speech from their Queen," Tyrion told her.

"Can't they wait?" Jon questioned incredulously.

"Of course not," Daenerys sighed, "give me a moment"

"Your Grace," Tyrion bowed shortly before taking his leave.

"Dany …" Jon groaned as she moved away from him to fix her hair and pull on her furs.

"I won't be long," she soothed him, drawing herself up to her full height before marching out.

He followed her curiously, he had only ever seen her address her own men and yet now she was addressing all her allies as well. Robb emerged from his tent and leant casually against one of the poles to watch her, seeing Stannis standing rigidly in the mouth of his own tent, his expression unreadable. The men quietened as they noticed Daenerys and she took Ser Barristan's hand as he helped her climb atop an empty cart so she could better address them.

"My Lords," she began, "and Ladies and all you brave men and women. I thank you all for fighting for me today, for fighting for my throne and the end of this false line. I owe a debt to each and every one of you and if you would I would have you pray with me for a moment for the souls of your fallen comrades who bravely spilled their blood for our cause …"

She closed her eyes then and bowed her head, the men before her doing the same. Everyone finished their prayers at different times but Daenerys didn't speak again until every last man had raised his head again.

"We will drink to them tonight in the camps. We will celebrate our victory, the first of many!" she declared and they all roared. Robb let a satisfied smile come to his face, she definitely knew how to please the men; if she continued in this fashion she would be a most popular Queen. It was Jon who helped her down from the cart then and she stepped into his arms at once.

"How did I do?" she asked him.

"Perfect," he told her and she smiled widely at him.

"Well, now my Queenly duty is done perhaps I can return to my wifely duty?" she said slyly.

"I think that would be best," he whispered huskily, steering her towards their tent.


Robb opened the letter from Elissa once he had had a bath and had a strong flagon of ale in front of him. Her words made him smile, Torrhen had learnt some new words and had finally started sleeping better. He still woke in the night but he was easier settled. Robb was glad, he hated thinking of his son upset, especially since he had never been a child to cry for no reason. His smile widened the further he read down, she had been reading a book about the history of the Stark House and had come across a name she liked for the baby. He was unsurprised that it was a boy's name. It was an old Stark name and one he had thought of as well, he decided he would write back and tell her he liked it too. He felt a pang then as he thought of his father, he so wanted to name a son for him but it still didn't feel right.

"Next time," he murmured, looking up, "when you're home where you belong"

He wondered what his father would think of him now if he could see him. Would he agree with his decision to march south? To usurp the usurper's? Surely he would, surely he would have been on Daenerys' side. On Jon's side. His father knew the truth of the Baratheon children and he had died for it. He had backed Stannis though, it was Stannis he had sent word to of the truth, Stannis he saw as the rightful heir. That was because he hadn't met Daenerys though. Robb argued to himself. He would have backed her had he known. Wouldn't he?

He gulped down the last of his ale then and pulled some paper towards him to write back to Elissa. He told her of the victory, that they would be staying put for a while before moving further south. He sent his love to Torrhen and told her he agreed with her choice of name for the baby, imploring her to at least consider a girl's name as well just in case. He bid her wish everyone at home well and give his congratulations to Sansa about the baby. Then he told her he loved her and that he was aching for her. It was the truth, he couldn't stand being without her. He promised he would be home just as soon as he was able and signed off before the longing sucked him down into the dark place he so often dwelled in. He sealed the letter and got up from his desk. He would send it and then join the men in their celebration – he could use another flagon of ale.


"Are you coming?" Jon asked Daenerys as he fastened his jacket.

"You go ahead, I'm going to have a bath first," she told him.

"Alright," he grinned, pecking her lips before he walked out of their tent.

The celebrations were in full swing when he walked out towards where the barrels of ale and wine had been stacked up. Robb had sent men out with coin to buy up whatever they could from the near-by inns and they had surpassed themselves. Some men even had women sat in their laps, their hands up their skirts as they giggled in their ears. Jon shook his head and moved passed them to fill a flagon of ale, spotting Robb with the Smalljon after a moment and wandering over to join them.

"To victory," Jon said, raising his flagon.

"Victory," they echoed before both drinking deeply.

Jon could tell they both missed home, he was the lucky one, he had his wife here with him and all those he cared about safe and secure. He knew the two men in front of him wanted to go home above all else and he hoped that they would soon get their wish.

"To a swift end," the Greatjon appeared then.

"Aye," Robb agreed.

"And healthy babes!" he added, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at his son.

"Aye," the Smalljon chuckled and Jon looked at Robb questioningly, his brother nodding slightly.

"Congratulations," Jon aimed at the Smalljon then.

"Thank you," he replied gratefully, his father patting him on his back before he took another drink.


They were getting drunk. That meant they were getting sloppy. He looked around for the best opportunity and saw a lookout stumble slightly from his post and stagger towards the trees to relieve himself. There didn't seem to be a back-up, if there was he was otherwise engaged and he allowed a smile to come to his face, gesturing to his companion. At the gesture an arrow sailed gracefully through the air and hit its target square in the back. The lookout let out a small grunt of pain before falling down to the ground where he moved no more.

He gestured to the small party then and they moved silently towards the camp, pausing at the lookout post to check for any sign of a backup. He saw him after a moment, his back to them as he pounded into a tavern wench that he had bent over an ale keg. Her moans of pleasure muffled their footsteps as they moved passed them and through the sea of tents and towards the heart of camp. He could see their targets all too clearly. Each of the large tents surrounding the biggest command tent had banners flying above them. He pulled a woman to his side then and pointed to the Tully banners waving above one of them. She nodded her head at him and he squeezed her upper arm before releasing her, watching her deftly make her way towards it.

He hissed at the others to keep a look out before he himself moved towards the tent with the Stark banners waving above it. It was empty when he slipped inside and he was glad of it. Getting rid of Robb Stark would do no good, the boy was too powerful – even dead the North would still fight for him. He had a popular Queen and a son as his heir, and – he noted as he read through the discarded letter on his desk – perhaps another son on the way. He wondered if they had that news at the Capital yet. They had scarce news of the Stark's and the North, their scouts not nearly as helpful as they would have hoped. Even Varys found it hard to get any news from Winterfell. The Young Wolf trusted few and only let those he knew close to him and those he did trust could not be bought. It would be foolish to even try.

If he had killed Stark he would have been richly rewarded, only those at the Capital had too much faith in him. He was not a man to back the losing side. Appeal to the sense of family, he told himself as he took another glance around Stark's tent before slipping back out into the camp. He had never yet met a person he couldn't play – even Ned Stark had danced to his tune in the end, the fool. That would not be easy to smooth over with the man's son but perhaps his next performance would give him the basis he needed to build up some trust. It would have to be the performance of his life he was going to win the ultimate prize.

He slipped as silent as a shadow towards the Dragon Queen's tent – Daenerys Targaryen, a mere girl. Don't give her time to speak. Say what you must. Let the panic consume her. Let her see that you tell the truth, that you merely seek to help. She was fixing her unmistakeably Targaryen hair when he slipped inside her tent, her body clad in a clinging dress which she would no doubt cover with furs before she stepped outside. The most beautiful woman in the world some had called her. Those that weren't Northmen anyway. The North declared Elissa Stark the most beautiful. The Riverlands claimed her sister, Roslin Tully, held the honour. Many in the south would rave on at the beauty of Margaery Tyrell, and – somewhat less than they used to – Cersei Lannister. He had never set eyes on either of the Frey girls but now he had set eyes on Daenerys Targaryen he could understand why people raved about her beauty. She certainly outshone Margaery and Cersei, she would look utterly delectable with a crown on her head and a throne beneath her.

She would never be her though. No matter how beautiful she was she would never be her.

He swallowed hard then. Now was not the time to think of her, she was the endgame, the ultimate prize that he would ask for once he had proved to them all that he was their man. Stark might refuse but if the Targaryen said yes … don't get ahead of yourself! Thoughts of her made him sloppy, made him doubt himself. He had to have a clear head if this was to work. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before stepping out of the shadows and into Daenerys' sight.

She wheeled around at once as she caught sight of panicked eyes in her mirror. She looked as though she was about to cry out but before she could he was speaking, his voice coming out desperate and scared and with a slight shake. His eyes didn't leave hers as he delivered the line that he had prayed to the Gods would put him on the way to working his way into her inner circle:

"Please! You have to help me, I have travelled far to find my wife! I do believe she has gone quite mad – sending out men to fight against you! I thought I could make her stay, but she slipped away in the night and I fear she means to destroy everyone! She has mad thoughts that her family have poisoned her womb and so she means to poison them!"


A/N: I think you can guess who's just turned up!

More tomorrow.

:)