The description for Rillwater Crossing is purely my own imagination, based on an image made by badgershite on Tumblr.

I found the name of the Ryswell castle on CK2 while writing this episode, so I went back and changed chapter 51 to include the name.

I don't own Game of Thrones, only this version of Torrhen Stark.


Jon was terrified, he didn't know what was happening. He just kept breathing, regaining his breath slowly before sitting up, shivering from the cold. He looked over towards the door and saw that Ser Davos was standing in the doorway, looking at him in shock. Still confused, he looked over at Ghost, who was just staring up at him with his red eyes. He felt his heart racing, but also under his fingertips his skin had been sliced open. Looking down he saw the state of his torso, multiple stab wounds littered over it. He began panicking, and tried to get up, only to stumble into the onrushing Ser Davos who put a cloak around Jon.

"Easy, easy. Easy." Ser Davos whispered reassuringly, helping him sit down on the table Jon was just lying on. The Lady Melisandre ran into the room, disbelievingly looking between Davos and Jon. "What do you remember?" Davos asked him.

"They stabbed me." Jon said after panting heavily a few times. "Olly, he put a knife in my heart. I shouldn't be here." He looked up at Davos painfully.

"The lady brought you back." Davos told him. Melisandre knelt before him.

"Afterwards, after they stabbed you, after you died, where did you go? What did you see?" She asked excitedly.

"Nothing. There was nothing at all." Jon shook his head.

"The Lord let you come back for a reason. Stannis was not the prince who was promised, but someone has to be." Melisandre told him.

"Could you give us a moment?" Davos asked her, when Jon looked like he was about to start crying. Melisandre left and Davos shut the door and pulled out a chair. "You were dead. And now you're not." He told Jon. "That's completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you."

"I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it." Jon exclaimed hurt. "And now I'm back. Why?" He asked Davos.

"I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. What does it matter?" Davos asked him. "You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You clean up as much of the shit as you can."

"I don't know how to do that. I thought I did, but I failed." Jon said, broken.

"Good. Now go fail again." Davos told him.

Jon got changed into fresh Nights Watch clothing, and Davos helped him outside into the courtyard of Castle Black where Wildlings and Nights Watch brothers were standing as one. He walked down the stairs towards Tormund, looking nervously around at all the faces of shocked wildlings, not believing that he was back. Tormund approached him.

"They think you're some kind of god. The man who returned from the dead." The ginger told him.

"I'm not a god." Jon said quickly.

"I know that." Tormund said, stepping closer. "I saw your pecker. What kind of god would have a pecker that small?" Jon chuckled, and hugged the wildling man, wincing at the contact on his chest. He spotted Edd in the crowd and made his way over to him, hugging him fiercely.

"Your eyes are still brown." Edd noted. "Is that still you in there?"

"I think so." Jon admitted. "Hold off on burning my body for now."

Edd laughed. "That's funny. You sure that's still you in there?" He joked, causing Jon to laugh with him.


The best thing about leaving the Barrowlands was easily being able to ride on flat land again. The plains of the Rills were wonderful, Torrhen thought, and he spurred his horse on trying to make the best of the time. His father had once told him that his Uncle Brandon loved riding in The Rills, and he could see why.

They camped when they saw a large village in the distance, that lay on the eastern bank of the river that led to the Saltspear to the south, and Torrhen's Square in the North. Across a stone bridge that looked like it belonged to the Reach rather than the North was a small stone keep flying the banner of House Glenmore, a white bow and arrow on a field of brown. There was another bridge leading across to the Western bank of the river, but to get to that you had to go through the keep.

"The town is Rillwater Crossing; the castle is Glenmore Keep." Asher told him, walking up next to Torrhen, who was stood on the edge of the camp staring at the settlement. "I hope Elaena made it back there."

"If she did, they might treat with us, if not…"

"Then we'll have to force our way across." Asher said. "It won't be easy."

"Are you calling Barrowton easy?" Torrhen laughed.

"No of course not." Asher grinned. "But they've probably known we were coming for days, Barrowton didn't."

"True, I guess." Torrhen sighed, but he noticed a group of riders leaving the town bearing the colours of House Glenmore and a white flag. "Ey up, look at that." The riders stopped about halfway between Torrhen's army and Rillwater Crossing.

"Asher, you're with me. Grab 10 men and we'll go and meet them." Torrhen ordered.

"At once, Your Grace." Asher bowed, Torrhen took the chance to grab his crown, so he could let them know who he was dealing with. Once Asher had the men and the Stark banner, Torrhen rode with them to meet in the middle.

Torrhen didn't recognise the person leading the Glenmore group, but he mentally smirked when he saw that he looked even younger than Torrhen was. Torrhen dismounted his horse and walked towards the Glenmore men, not waiting for Asher to follow his lead.

"This is Torrhen of the House Stark, second of his name, King of Winter and rightful Lord of Winterfell." Asher announced.

"I know who he is. I am Cregan Glenmore, heir to Glenmore Keep and Rillwater Crossing." The young man stated. "What is your business here?"

"I was hoping we could use your bridges." Torrhen shrugged. "Without bloodshed, if necessary."

"Our liege bent to the Boltons." Cregan stated, and Torrhen placed his hand on Winter's Bite, just in case it became necessary. "But the Bolton's flayed my older brother, fuck the Boltons." Cregan exclaimed, spitting on the floor. "My father, Lord Wendell isn't well, but please accept his oath of fealty, King Torrhen." And with that, Cregan and the few men he had brought with him all knelt on the floor in front of Torrhen. Torrhen sighed with relief, taking his hand off of his sword and gesturing for Cregan to rise.

"Rise, I appreciate the loyalty my friend." Torrhen said. "Your father is ill you say? I was hoping to speak with him."

"He will receive you in the keep, but after…" Cregan faltered.

"I understand, we shall come with you and meet him." Torrhen said, going back to his horse. "Lead the way!"

They rode towards Glenmore Keep, going through the centre of the village and crossing the stone bridge over the river and entered the keep. He heard Asher thank the gods quietly as Elaena Glenmore was there to receive them. They all dismounted and Elaena and the rest of the household kneeled before Torrhen.

"My King." Elaena said.

"No need for that now, your brother has already dirtied his knee." Torrhen told her, gesturing at her to rise. "My Lady I am so sorry about Rodrik."

"I appreciate that Your Grace." Elaena said, rising. "Come, my father is in the hall."

She led them through the castle to a modest hall, with a lovely ironwood chair that old Wendell Glenmore was sat in, being fussed over by a Maester. He had his foot bandaged up, and a pair of wooden crutches leaning against the chair. Torrhen strode up in front of Lord Wendell and bowed his head politely.

"Lord Glenmore, I thank you for receiving me." Torrhen said formally.

"I thank you for not burning my home down." Wendell wheezed jovially. "News of Barrowton reached here quickly, we could see the smoke."

"Yes well, House Dustin were traitors." Torrhen said gruffly. "There will be no need for hostilities here, your son has bent the knee on your behalf."

"And I thank him, as you can see I would not be able to rise again." Wendell said, gesturing to his foot. "Broken, lashing out in anger at what that bastard did to my son."

"And he will be brought to justice I assure you, yours isn't the only house he has mutilated." Torrhen said, his eyes brimming with hatred.

"Quite, now I must ask you, My King, what is it you want?"

"Passage, and men if you can spare them My Lord." Torrhen told him. "We march on Highbrook Tower, and quickly, before Roose Bolton can reinforce them."

"Roose Bolton? I thought you..." Wendell began. "Symeon, the raven message please." He told the Maester. Maester Symeon was quick to grab a raven message just out of the room, and came back in handing it to Torrhen. The Stark boy read it, and a huge grin appeared on his face.

"Poisoned by his enemies? Haha!" Torrhen roared. "This wasn't us, I wanted to drive my sword through his heart to kill him, but this saves me the job." He passed the message over to Asher.

"Then who was it?" Lord Wendell asked.

"I don't know, but whoever it was deserves a Lordship." Torrhen grinned, before it faltered. "Although that makes Ramsay Snow the one leading the Bolton Army."

"And that is the one of the many, many reasons why I renounced all loyalty to House Ryswell, they would have us back that bastard." Wendell spat.

"I can assure you, House Ryswells crimes are even greater than House Dustins, they will pay severely." Torrhen said icily. "And after that, I will need new Lords of the Rills."

"Who would you name?" Cregan asked.

"Well, if he accepts to send his men to join me, and a marriage between Elaena and Asher Forrester…" Torrhen trailed, staring intently at Lord Wendell. "The Lord Wendell, I would name you Lord of the Rills."

Lord Wendell was gobsmacked, as was Elaena and Asher. "Why me?" Asher asked.

"Elaena was betrothed to your older brother, and I know you loved him very much Elaena, but House Forrester have been some of my greatest allies and they will be rewarded heavily as a result, I see this as a very good start." Torrhen said. "You'd be marrying the daughter of the Lord of the Rills, and she already knows your lands."

"Very well, I can't see a reason not to if you don't, Lord Wendell." Asher said, while looking at Elaena for permission, she just nodded.

"You'd make me one of the most powerful men in the North, just like that?" Wendell asked suspiciously.

"I would reward you for your loyalty to House Stark even when encouraged to do otherwise." Torrhen corrected. Lord Wendell looked absolutely gleeful.

"Cregan, kneel before the King for me." He commanded, and Torrhen chuckled as Cregan knelt before him. "I accept, Your Grace. The archers of Rillwater Crossing are yours."

"I thank you, My Lord. Now if you agree we should prepare for a wedding. Get that done tomorrow and then we shall win you your new seat." Torrhen grinned.

"Of course! Symeon, Cregan, get all the servants and organise a feast for tonight! Elaena, get the seamstresses!" Wendell carried on barking orders to all sorts of people, but Torrhen zoned him out. He was just pleased that with only words he had gained himself a powerful ally.


Meanwhile, in Meereen, things had gone from bad to worse. The Sons of the Harpy had burnt all of the ships in the Meereen Harbour, all 93 of them were now ash and rubble. Varys was in the Throne Room trying to find out who was in control of the group, while Tyrion, Missandei and Grey Worm were in his new chambers, waiting. Tyrion smiled at the other two, trying to get a conversation going. Missandei smiled back, but Grey Worm was stern faced.

"What should we do while we wait?" Tyrion asked them. "To pass the time, what should we do? What should we talk about? You speak 19 languages; you must occasionally use some of them to talk about things." He nodded to Missandei, who shrugged. "You two, you spend a great deal of time together, what would you be talking about if I weren't here?" He asked.

"Patrol." Was the response from Grey Worm. "When I am going on patrol with the Unsullied. What we see on patrol. Who we captured on patrol."

"That's good, that's very good. But that's a report, I was thinking more of a conversation." Tyrion told him, getting up with his cup of wine. "A wise man once said the true history of the world is the history of great conversations in elegant rooms."

"Who said this?" Missandei asked.

"Me. Just now." Tyrion smiled, trying to get a laugh from the two former slaves, but failing miserably. "Come on! What did you talk about when Stark was here?"

"We do not talk. He stay with our Queen." Grey Worm told him bluntly, and Tyrion was left wondering what to do then.

"All right, no conversations." He said, defeated. "Let's play a game!" Missandei and Grey Worm looked at each other nervously, a fact Tyrion didn't miss. "You don't play games, either one of you, ever?"

"Games are for children." Grey Worm said.

"My master Kraznys would sometimes make us play games." Missandei said concerned.

"There, that's a start!" Tyrion exclaimed.

"Only the girls." She added.

Tyrion quickly gulped his sip. "No, no, no, not that. Of course not that." He reassured her. "Innocent games, fun games. Drinking games." He said, toasting his cup towards her.

"We do not drink." Missandei told him.

"Until you do." Tyrion grinned. "All right. No drinking, we can play without drinking. It's a wonderful game, I invented it. Here's how it works; I make a statement about your past. If I'm wrong, I drink, and if I'm right… maybe we can't play without drinking." He said to himself. Luckily at that moment the door opened, and in stepped Varys. "Oh, you took your time!"

"Sorry, I was busy learning who funds the Sons of the Harpy, some things you can't rush.

"You found out?" Missandei asked.

"The Good Masters of Astapor and the Wise Masters of Yunkai. With help from their friends in Volantis."

"You see? You don't even have to worry about the local rebellion. We only have to worry about the three rich foreign cities paying for it." Tyrion said sarcastically.

"We conquered Astapor and Yunkai once, we will do it again and execute the Masters." Grey Worm said defiantly.

"If the Unsullied march off to reconquer Astapor and Yunkai, who will remain to defend the free people of Meereen?" Tyrion asked him.

"If we do not fight them, how can we stop them?" Grey Worm asked.

"We cannot." Missandei spat. "The Masters speak only one language, they spoke it to me for many years, I know it better than my mother tongue. If we want them to hear us, we must speak it back to them. May it be the last thing they ever hear."

"You may be right." Tyrion nodded.

"So we will fight them?" Grey Worm asked.

"Possibly." Tyrion said.

"Possibly?" Missandei asked him.

"It's a conversation." Tyrion said, before turning to Varys. "Tell me, can your little birds get a message to the Good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, and benevolent enslavers of Volantis?"

"Of course. Men can be fickle, but birds I always trust." Was the response.


A small band of riders, led by Smalljon Umber rode towards Winterfell at pace, ignoring their disgust for the flayed men that littered the road on the way to the castle. Ramsay Bolton and Harald Karstark welcomed the Umber Lord in the Great Hall of Winterfell. Ramsay was considering why the Umber was here.

"The Umbers are a famously loyal house." Ramsay began.

"Famously loyal to the Starks." Harald Karstark said from beside Ramsay.

"And you, Lord Karstark. Not too long ago I was sat around a campfire with your brother, marching in Robb Stark's army. Your people share blood with the Starks, don't they? But here we are, times change." Lord Umber countered.

"So quickly though?" Ramsay asked. "I heard your father was leading the rebels in Moat Cailin."

"My father hadn't been to Last Hearth in years, the great fucker hasn't had a say in House Umber since he fucked off to Harrenhal with the Black Wolf." Smalljon Umber stated.

"Maybe so." Ramsay said. "But when my father became Warden of the North by royal decree, your house still refused to pledge their banners."

"Your father was a cunt." The Smalljon stated bluntly.

"My beloved father, the Warden…" Ramsay began, doing his best to ignore the anger inside him at that statement.

"Your father was a cunt and that's why you killed him. I might have done the same to my father if he hadn't have done me the favour of dying on his own." Smalljon admitted.

"My father was poisoned by our enemies." Ramsay tried correcting him.

"Mmm." Smalljon mumbled.

"Why have you come to Winterfell, Lord Umber?" Ramsay asked him. "I would have thought you'd have preferred to join the rebels with your little Stark friend."

"Stark's bastard brother Jon Snow led an army of wildlings past the Wall, we're farther north than any of you fuckers, wildlings come down, we always have to fight them first. I like fighting wildlings. Been doing it all my life. But there are too many of them for us to beat back alone." Smalljon told Ramsay.

"So now you've come seeking help?"

"We need to help each other." Smalljon told him. "The colder it gets, the farther south those goat fuckers will roam, won't take them long to get here."

"You think a horde of wildlings can take Winterfell?" Karstark mocked.

"If they get Jon Snow leading them, maybe. He knows this place better than we ever will. Plus, if they come from the North and Stark comes from the South, you'll be outnumbered 2 to 1." Smalljon said, worrying Ramsay slightly.

"Pledge your banners to House Bolton. Swear loyalty to me as Warden of the North and after we deal with Torrhen Stark's little band of rebels we will fight together to destroy the bastard and all his wildling friends." Ramsay offered.
"I'm not kissing your fucking hand." Smalljon told Ramsay bluntly.

"Traditionally a bannerman kneels before his lord." Ramsay said.

"I'm not doing that either."

"Why would I trust a man who won't honour tradition?" Ramsay said, annoyed.

"Your father honoured tradition, knelt for Robb Stark, called him King of the North." Smalljon reminded Ramsay. "Was Robb Stark right to trust your father?"

"Then it appears we're at a bit of an impasse." Ramsay told the giant of a man.

"Fuck kneeling and fuck oaths." Smalljon said, nailing home his point. "I've got a gift for you." He nodded to his two men.

"A girl, I hope, I prefer redheads." Ramsay joked as two hooded figures were dragged into the Hall.

"A girl, aye." Smalljon laughed. "A wild one." He pulled the hood off to reveal a brown haired woman, frantically looking around.

"I like them wild." Ramsay said, standing up interested.

"And the boy, nice and young, the way Karstark likes them." Smalljon mocked, causing Harald Karstark to push his chair back and stand in anger. Smalljon ignored him, pulling off the hood to reveal a curly haired child.

"Who's this?" Ramsay asked, confused at what he was being given.

"Rickon Stark." Smalljon told him.

Ramsay walked up to the boy. "How do I know that's Rickon Stark?"

Smalljon walked over to another bag, and pulled something out of it. Walking back towards Ramsay he threw the sawn off head of an almost black direwolf. Ramsay looked at the reaction of the boy, and saw his sheer anger. "Welcome home, Lord Stark." The Bolton bastard smiled.

Later that day the Smalljon was walking towards one of his guards. "You!" He called, beckoning him over.

"My Lord?" The guard asked.

"Get word to Moat Cailin, we're in."


The wedding of Asher Forrester and Elaena Glenmore was nothing if not rushed, but Torrhen had already waited at Rillwater Crossing for a week, he didn't want to wait any more time. Tonight was the final feast Lord Glenmore had insisted on having, it wasn't anything special due to winter almost being upon them, but it was a jolly occasion and Torrhen was enjoying himself immensely. As he laughed at a joke that Cregan Glenmore had told, the Maester walked into the room, bypassing Lord Wendell and handing a message over to Torrhen. Intrigued he looked at the seal, and seeing the green lizard lion of House Reed he cracked it open.

The trap is set

That was all it said, but Torrhen grinned widely. Burning the letter with a candle on the table he looked over at Asher who was staring back quizzically. Torrhen just nodded to say silently that it was on, and Asher grinned as well, before turning his attention back to his new bride.

They left the next morning, heading North West towards Highbrook Tower with 8,300 men now with the additional soldiers from Barrowton and Rillwater Crossing. Torrhen rode at the head of the column with Cregan Glenmore and Asher, steeling himself for the battles to come.


So there we are! Jon is alive, Torrhen has some new allies and Rickon is in the hands of his enemy. Torrhen will not be happy when he finds out, I can assure you of that. We also got a look back into Meereen with some changed dialogue about Tor. If you can't remember who the Glenmores are they were involved briefly in Chapter 33, and the flaying of Arthur Glenmore was mentioned in Chapter 34.

I've placed Glenmore Keep on the river leading up to Torrhen's Square, in the second little triangle bit just left of Barrowton, apparently in the game canon it isn't there but where Telltale placed it looked like a better place strategically for Highbrook Tower.

I'm interested in your thoughts on Smalljon Umber too, remember he knew Torrhen back in chapter 11.

Thank you for all the support on both of my stories.

Next chapter: Theon arrives back at Pyke.

Reviews:

Fantasymaker76: Torrhen doesn't know about the Wildlings yet, but he will do soon!

onyxhaider98: That's the thing about OC's, it's a struggle to make them into flawed, human characters instead of perfect beings as you often imagine yourself as them. I tried to change that up a notch and have him witness hardships, and have his motivations drive him to a point of no return, which he is now in. The Karstarks join Roose Bolton, so Torrhen, who disagreed with the beheading of Rickard Karstark, now has no sympathy for them.

jean d'arc: It's always nice when people admit that they like how you portray your character so thank you!

C.E.W: The whole Umber thing is touched upon here, but will be included more in later chapters

Brandon of House Stark: I know! I love angry Torrhen and that's pretty much what this season is so far.

AmuletOfWinter: Thank you so much! I'm sure you're wrong but still, thank you.

Lightningscar: Brienne saw Myranda threatening Sansa, so did what she needed to. The roar was for description ; ) Jon has been busy, and I don't know how much information gets sent to the wall so I'm taking it that he doesn't know about Tor, and he thinks Bran has died North of the Wall.

I think the ranged things is my fault, not wanting him to be overpowered so making it as if he gets hit most of the time. The fire I'm taking as it was a big castle, plus it's dramatic. And I can assure you, taking the Rills won't be as easy, as they know he is coming. The Theon bits are just islands and houses of those islands, easy to research but not too important. I'm quite pressed for time so if there's anything you want me to answer after this chapter, let me know!