After a disappointing end to the Game of Thrones TV show, it's really good to see the set pictures for House of the Dragon coming out. While some of the casting choices have been controversial (not in my eyes, but in the wider public) I can honestly say I'm super excited. The Hightower's look awesome, Corlys Velaryon looks badass, and I really like Matt Smith as an actor and he's playing one of my favourite characters within the history of Westeros.

I will quickly mention my thoughts on the obvious though. I am of the opinion that Steve Toussaint has been cast to make things incredibly obvious for the casual viewers with regards to a plot point. One of the main aspects of before the Dance is the controversy over the parentage of Rhaenyra's kids, so by casting Steve as a member of House Velaryon and the grandfather of these kids, if they are a pasty white like their mother then it becomes clear to the viewers that something is amiss.

Back to this story then, and there is the scene that most of you have been waiting for right at the start…

There is no mention of Alerie Hightower in the show, so in this story she's dead.

I own none of the canon characters or locations. They are all the property of HBO or George R R Martin.

Sansa Stark stood in her chambers staring out of the window as the Frey banner flapped around in the windy courtyard. Her eyes were mere narrow slits as she glared at the traitorous banner and her thoughts once more fled to those days at the Twins that she had heard much about, where her brother and mother both lost their lives due to Lannister, Bolton and Frey collusion.

A gurgle called her attention away from the windows and she turned with a forced smile on her face, walking over to her baby and picking him up. "Hush, Artos." She whispered. "Mother is here."

"It is true then." A deep voice called from the doorway. Sansa turned to see her husband stood there, his face as blank as ever. "You are colluding with House Manderly." Sansa's eyes widened in surprise and she placed her son down in his cot. "Don't try and talk yourself around it, My Lady. I know of your letter and I know where it is being sent."

"House Manderly are a loyal Northern House to House Stark." Sansa began the lie. "I only wished to ensure that there were no Bolton plots to steal his birth right by remaining in contact with one of our most loyal Houses."

Sansa knew that she sounded convincing, and she thought that she had fooled the Hand of the King until the Lannister, unusually out of his character, smirked with true amusement. "You are a good liar, My Lady. Perhaps I have been teaching you better than I anticipated." He moved into the room and began taking off his crimson cloak, laying it on the bed. "But you will have no more interaction with House Manderly. I am forced to keep an eye on plots from Dorne and Highgarden, both intent on my own murder, I will suffer no plotting from my own wife."

"There are no plots." Sansa shook her head.

Tyland snapped around and glared at her. "Do not lie to me, child." He snarled. "Your interest in House Manderly is close to treason." He sighed. "You will go to Casterly Rock in the morning. There you will stay unless I tell Loren otherwise."

Sansa grit her teeth together but nodded all the same. "As you wish, My Lord."

Tyland looked as pleased as he could look, and he began taking off his shirt then. "Undress, we will couple before I leave you for the night."

Sansa felt disgusted, but she nodded once more and mentally prepared for what was about to happen. "Let me take Arthur to Mira." She said.

Tyland looked frustrated but nodded. "Then we will go to my own chambers, I still have some work to finish before I retire."

Sansa scooped up her son without acknowledgement and walked briskly down the hall. Thankfully, no guards were in the corridor that housed Sansa and her handmaiden and Sansa's mind was racing with all of the possibilities. She entered Mira's room and quickly shut the door. "Pack your things." She said quietly.

"My Lady?" Mira asked.

"We are leaving, tomorrow." Sansa insisted. "Tell nobody, I will handle everything, but be ready."

Mira nodded, taking the baby from Sansa's arms. "As you wish." She said strongly, and Sansa was once again grateful for the loyalty of the Northerner. She left the room as quickly as she had entered, before returning to her room to grab a large red shawl and then making her way towards the chambers of the Hand of the King and passing guards on her way in.

Tyland was there, mostly undressed, sitting at his desk. "You took your time." He complained as Sansa removed the shawl. "Hurry."

Sansa scowled as Tyland walked over to the bed, but she began to unlace her dress, being careful to remove it from the top downwards. As the fabric slowly was lowered, she began to bend over as well, until she reached the dagger holster strapped to her right leg. She stopped for a moment, noticing that Tyland was distracted as he was walking to the bed and she pounced. The dagger was out of the holster and embedded within Tyland's heart almost instantly, and the Hand of the King looked shocked. Sansa kept her hand firmly on the hilt pressing in however as the Lannister's attempts to fight back waned, and she helped to guide him onto the bed.

"You…" Tyland gasped for air. He looked down at the blade, shock still on his face. "You won't win."

Sansa pulled the blade out, feeling ill at the blood pumping out of his wound, but she kept her expression calm. "For my Father." She told him quietly. "For my Mother, and for Robb."

Tyland chuckled weakly, the colour in his face draining. "All this time you festered so much hatred." He whispered hoarsely. "I should have given you more credit, but you will leave our son an orphan when they hang you."

Sansa shook her head. "You should have taken care with the number of enemies you made, My Lord. Any one of them could have done this." She said bitterly, before turning away from the dying man, leaving him to die on his own surrounded by nobody. She wiped the blade clean with her crimson shawl before stepping back into her dark grey dress, the small blood splatters on her body covered by the fabric. Turning around the room she found the secret passage entrance that Tyrion Lannister had used to escape and made sure to open that quickly before walking out of the room the way she came.

"Do not disturb Lord Tyland." She told the guards. "He is busy at work deciding where the Frey hostages will go."

"As you say, My Lady." The guards nodded, and Sansa walked away, the hint of a smile appearing on her lips.

Sansa's memory faded, and she looked around the room at the shocked faces around the table. The look of horror mixed with pity in Jon's eyes made Sansa wince, but she remained strong. "The question should not be am I loyal to my family." She said, the anger in her voice remaining. "But whether everybody in this room is prepared to go to war to free the North of traitors. I may not have the ability to wield a sword or to act out battle commands in the field, but I have done more than anybody in this room to free us of Lannister influence, so please, My Lords, My Lady, do not insult my loyalty to this country."

It took a moment for everything to register in the Northmen and woman, but Howland Reed was the first one to smile. "You have done us a great service, My Lady." He then turned to address the rest of the room. "It is no secret that with Tyland Lannister dead, the crown is weak. In blaming the Dornish as they have they will set off a chain which will have their eyes focused on the South. Now is the time to retake the North."

"Aye." Wyman Manderly nodded. "Together in this room we command a good number of men, and you can make no mistake that House Umber will be with us once we march. As will House Karstark."

"I can add warriors to that number too." Jon said quietly, and all eyes were upon him once more. "The Free Folk I allowed through the Wall, they are fierce in battle and they have an axe to grind with Lord Bolton, they will join us."

Wyman Manderly gulped. "I am uneasy at fighting alongside Wildlings, but I am even more uneasy at losing to the murderer in Winterfell. Aye, together with the Wildlings we will pull Roose Bolton from Winterfell and retake what is ours."

"They will follow you?" Asher Forrester asked.

Jon nodded. "I have an agreement with their leader, Karsi. They don't trust me, but they trust my motivations and they hate Roose Bolton as much as we do."

"Then is it settled?" Howland asked, turning towards Lady Flint and Lord Locke. "Are we in agreement?"

Lady Lyessa was grinning. "Aye, my men are with you, and I will personally ensure that all my kin are too." She told them, and Sansa was grateful, thinking of the manpower that the Flints of Flint Cliffs and of the Mountain Clans could bring them.

"And me." Lord Ondrew nodded. "I apologise for my earlier words, Lady Sansa. I overstepped."

"You were protecting the North, My Lord." Sansa said calmly, smiling at the man. "I can find no fault in doing as I was doing myself."

"Then we should move swiftly." Howland said, interrupting and he rose to gather a map of the North, laying it out on the table. "We should gather here." He pointed at a secluded spot where the Wolfswood, Long Lake and the Lonely Hills all met. "We can cut off Bolton from the Dreadfort and gather all of our men."

"Aye." Came the assenting voices.

Wyman Manderly stood up. "You should all depart immediately and gather your forces. Lord Reed, keep your men at the Moat, we cannot afford to lose that fortress. My own men shall leave White Harbour in a fortnight, should that be enough time for you all?" He looked at the other Lords and Lady in the room.

Locke and Flint both nodded, and Asher Forrester looked firm. "It will be a tough ride, but aye I will get to Lord Glover and explain." He told them all.

"Very well." Wyman Manderly said. "Then let us get to it, we have little time to spare."

The King was tired. After peace had fallen in the Riverlands he had hoped that it would prolong throughout his reign, but the news of more fighting within the Dornish Marches had shattered that hope for Tommen Baratheon as he listened to the reports from Varys.

"The Marcher Lords have reportedly engaged the Dornish in a parlay in the Boneway." The eunuch was explaining to the Small Council. "From which no agreement could be made and the Marcher Lords retreated and begun preparations for a siege."

Randyll Tarly shook his head. "They won't siege, the Dornish are weak outside of their deserts and mountains. They'll wait us out, taunt us into their domain."

"Won't the other Stormlanders engage?" Kevan Lannister input. "This is their territory."

"I have had no word from Storm's End." Varys told everyone. "It seems my prior friendship with Lord Tyrion has proven costly, and he has cleared the castle of my little birds."

Tommen frowned. "Why would Uncle Tyrion do that?"

"Any number of reasons." Cersei said from a corner. Tommen had allowed her access to the meetings, though he could tell now by the discomfort on Myrcella, Kevan and Randyll Tarly's faces that this was an unpopular decision. "He is a lecherous little murderer, he probably wishes to keep the horrors of his treatment of the Baratheon girl a secret."

Myrcella looked angry. "Your view on him is not our view, Mother. You are well known to be biased against our Uncle."

Cersei was about to argue, but her uncle wearing the Hand of the King pin interjected quickly. "Don't even try to deny it, the Princess speaks truly." Kevan then turned to Tommen. "I will draft a raven for you to send to Storm's End, Your Grace. Tyrion needs to do his duty towards you as the Lord of Storm's End."

Tommen smiled at the action. "Wonderful." He commented.

"I should go to Sunspear." Myrcella then said, piping up confidently from her seat.

"What? No." Cersei was the first to speak up at the declaration. "That is too dangerous…"

Myrcella scoffed. "Mother, it was your ignorant advice that has led for the Dornish to rebel, without you this wouldn't be necessary…"

Cersei scowled. "I did what was necessary to protect both you and Tommen…"

"You were foolish, Your Grace." Kevan said firmly. "The entire council would have argued against that order, the last time a letter like that was sent was to Jon Arryn, asking for Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark's heads."

Tommen gulped, he hadn't been thinking about that at the time, he had only wanted peace. "What is done, is done." He said, more sheepishly than intended.

Myrcella looked over at Tommen with her big green eyes, pleading. "Let me go and talk to Trystane, I can get them to stand down."

"It is too late for that." Randyll Tarly said gruffly. "Blood will have been spilt by now, this will end with a surrender, either way."

"How far away are Ser Loras and Lord Loren?" Kevan asked the Lord of Highgarden, who had been awkwardly silent throughout the meeting.

Mace Tyrell sat up straight and cleared his throat as if he were about to give a hearty monologue. "My son and his host were in Ashford not two days past."

"So not far away." Kevan said, relatively happily as he ignored the Reachman ignoring Loren's command. "And the Western host are recently in the Reach as well, we will soon have a force that the Dornish are unable to overcome."

Myrcella shook her head. "Do not underestimate the Dornish warriors, Lord Hand." She said cautiously. "The Martell words are as they are for a reason, Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."

"You sound Dornish yourself." Cersei said spitefully.

"Perhaps because I was sold to the Dornish and had a few years growing up there." Myrcella countered. "And now that we have no link to them and you've decided to continuously offend them, no wonder they are rebelling." She turned back to Tommen. "Please, Your Grace. I can help solve this diplomatically." She said to Tommen.

The King was considering it, but Cersei wasn't done with her tirade. "No, I forbid it. The Dornish are proven murderers and sending you there would be a death wish…"

Myrcella scoffed. "That trial outcome was inevitable, Obara hated my Uncle it is true, but so did you…"

Silence fell at the hinted accusation. Tommen's eyes widened in horror as Myrcella and Cersei just glared at one another. Kevan cleared his throat and tried to direct the conversation away, knowing what Myrcella was alluding to. "We should send instructions to Ser Loras and Lord Loren."

"I would never kill my own brother." Cersei ignored her Uncle and scowled at Myrcella. "I'm a little hurt you would think so little of me, my love."

"Then explain your interest in the Faceless Men?" Myrcella bit back, rising to her feet leaning both of her arms on the table. "Explain why you sent Ser Osney Kettleblack to Braavos, specifically the House of Black and White?"

"Enough!" Tommen roared, slamming his fist on the table. "We aren't fighting as well!" He got to his feet roughly slamming the chair away and storming out of the room, tears threatening to consume him as he walked.

He got to his chambers, where the soft sound of the harp was strumming from inside. Instantly he smiled as he entered the room, seeing Margaery and her handmaiden together practicing the harp. They both stood up as soon as he entered the room however and the music stopped. "Your Grace." Margaery curtseyed. "I wasn't expecting you so soon." Tommen sighed, moving over to a couch and falling into it. Margaery was reading between the lines instantly and turned to Sera. "Leave us."

Once the girl had gone, Margaery moved to sit beside Tommen, allowing him to rest his head in her lap as she began to stroke his hair. Tommen closed his eyes, enjoying the relaxing nature of her movements. "Everyone hates one another." He sighed dramatically. "Even Myrcella and Mother."

"They are family, I'm sure they don't hate one another." Margaery insisted.

Tommen shook his head. "Cella accused Mother of killing Uncle Tyland today."

Margaery stopped briefly, but she continued her ministrations a second later. "If I may be honest, Your Grace."

Tommen opened his eyes and stared up at hers. "I always want you to be honest with me, you are my Queen."

Margaery smiled sweetly. "Your Mother is a… difficult character. She sees plots where there are none and justifies terrible actions to keep you safe. While keeping you safe is a truly honourable task that I completely agree with, the actions aren't quite so honourable."

Tommen nodded. "I was rash in listening to her advice about the remaining Sand Snakes." He admitted. "But she is my Mother, what can I do?"

Margaery smiled and leant over to kiss his lips gently. "Your Uncle had a good plan, did he not? One he was focused on in his last days."

Tommen thought for a moment. "Of course, Mother is still betrothed." He remembered, though instantly he paled. "She won't like it."

Margaery sighed contently and ran her fingers through his hair some more. "You are the King, my love, your Mother does not have to like it." She paused almost instantly and Tommen jolted up in alarm as Margaery brought her hand to her mouth.

"Are you alright?" He asked her worriedly, and Margaery bolted from the couch towards the chamber pots, and Tommen froze in panic when he heard retching.

Cersei had been surprised to receive another invitation from her son to go for a walk around the gardens on the same day as he had stormed out of the Small Council chambers, but she was grateful for it as the pair walked with arms interlocked. It was a comfortable silence as they listened to the birds in the sky and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and bushes, though of course that silence had to be ruined.

"Do you still mourn Uncle Tyland?" Tommen asked her, catching her relatively off guard.

Stopping, Cersei looked at her boy questioningly. "Why do you ask?" She asked.

Tommen took his arm away from her and wrung his hands nervously. "It's been a few moons now, and so the traditional mourning period is over." He explained. "I just wondered if you still mourned him."

Of course she didn't, she hadn't worn black since the fortnight had finished. "He was my brother." Cersei said. "I will always mourn him somehow, but I can still perform my duties."

"Good, because we should talk with Lord Tyrell soon, this war with Dorne will postpone things of course, but you and Ser Loras can wed!" He sounded so excited, the exact opposite of what the Queen Mother herself was feeling.

Cersei scowled at the thought. "We don't need to go through with that, Tommen."

"But we do, it was Uncle Tyland's final task." Tommen insisted. "And the alliance between ourselves and House Tyrell is one that must be as strong as possible."

"These are not your words, these are Tyland's." Cersei snapped. "I suppose Myrcella has been putting ideas into your head, has she? I don't know what has gotten into her recently…"

"No! Myrcella hasn't done anything!" Tommen exclaimed frustratedly. "I wish you two would get along, we can't fight between ourselves."

Cersei nodded, pursing her lips. "I have no wish to fight, my love, I am your Mother, and Myrcella is my only daughter, I love her more than she can ever know." She admitted. "But ever since she has been sent away she has poisoned your mind with this Dornish nonsense, I fear she cares more for their interests than our own. And anybody who isn't us is our enemy."

Tommen shook his head fiercely. "Myrcella isn't my enemy." He said firmly. "She had nothing to do with me thinking of your wedding, so leave her alone!" He stormed off, evidently upset again, but his words caused Cersei to pause. If Myrcella hadn't tried to get rid of her, then the only other person with any influence over her son would be the harlot in his bed. A smirk formed on Cersei's lips, she might not be able to act against her daughter, but she had no such loyalty to the Tyrell whore.

The fortnight had come and gone quickly, with Jon mainly using the time to teach Rickon as much as he could with a blade. The little Lord wouldn't be fighting but he would be coming with the army, in order to prove his claim to Winterfell in order to win over the other Lords they hoped would rise against the Bolton's. As Jon saddled his horse for the final time in White Harbour, he looked over to where Sansa was saying her goodbyes, surrounded by Osha, Ghost and Shaggydog. Jon smiled as Sansa buried her younger brother in a hug before picking him up and placing Rickon on his horse, then making her way over to him.

"Keep him safe." Sansa told Jon. "I thought I lost him once already, I can't do that again."

Jon nodded. "I will."

Sansa then surprised Jon and pulled him into a fierce hug as well. "And make sure you live." Sansa whispered. "We need you, remember… the lone wolf dies…"

"But the pack survives." Jon quoted their Father with a smirk. "I know what I'm doing, Sansa."

The Stark girl nodded, but Jon noticed her eyes were watering. "You are the representative of House Stark now, Jon. You are Rickon's voice in the planning, don't let them belittle you as I did as a child."

Jon shook his head, wiping a tear from Sansa's cheek. "That was a long time ago." He told her. "It is forgotten." He hugged his sister once more before pulling away quickly and tightening the straps one last time before he placed Longclaw inside the scabbard strapped to his mount. He placed his left foot in the stirrups and hauled himself up, settling himself on his horse. "Keep Artos and yourself safe!" He called, before he kicked his horse into movement, leading Rickon and Osha towards the gathered 4,000 men of House Manderly, every one of them determined to bring justice down upon Roose Bolton.

After her visit with her own personal Maester, Queen Margaery had insisted on sleeping in her own chambers that night, much to Tommen's disgruntlement. It was night by the time she had been dismissed by the Maester and the walk back to her wing was lonely, other than the clanking footsteps of Ser Garth Hightower behind her. As they reached the large oak doors, Margaery turned to her Kingsguard protector and said. "Thank you, Ser Garth. My Father will be sending a pair of his own personal guard to stand watch overnight."

"I will await them, Your Grace." The Reach knight bowed his head, before opening the door for her.

Margaery smiled sweetly as she walked through the doors, hearing them shut behind her. Her hands dropped immediately to her stomach, more in hope than expectation, but that meant she didn't see the figure in shadows sitting down on her bed.

"You're late." Her Father said as Margaery went to light more candles to brighten the room up. She noticed that Sera had left her nightdress on the dresser next to a refilled decanter and a pair of goblets. "You've had me worried sick, child." Mace continued.

"Apologies, Father. The Maester wished to keep me for longer." She said calmly, sitting down on the bed beside the Lord of Highgarden.

"What did he say?" Mace asked excitedly. "Are you… you know?"

Margaery chuckled lightly at his enthusiasm. "With child? It's too early to tell if my illness was food related or not, but he is hopeful." She explained. "I am to return to him in a week."

Mace Tyrell's smile grew wider than the Queen thought was possible, and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Marvellous!" He exclaimed. "Wonderful! A child! My Grandchild, the offspring of the King!"

Margaery allowed her Father his excitement knowing that the latter statement was what got him most excited, though her beaming smile betrayed no sense of hurt. "We cannot tell anybody." She told him. "I do not even know if it is true, my last moonblood was three weeks past, it is too soon."

Mace scoffed. "If the Maester believes it to be true, then so shall I!" He grinned, rising to his feet. "We shall toast!"

Shaking her head, the Queen protested. "Not for me, Father." Her hand returned to her stomach hopefully. "I will not jeopardise my child, if I am pregnant."

Mace looked crestfallen for a split second, but he came to his senses quickly. "Of course! As Mother insists." He had a large smirk as he said the new title, and Margaery felt a tingle in her stomach at the thought of a little girl calling her Mother. Mace poured some Arbor Gold into a goblet before turning around and holding it out towards the Queen as a form of toast. "To my daughter, Queen Margaery. May your child grow strong." He proclaimed, before taking a swig of the drink. "Your mother would be delighted."

Margaery smiled sadly, nodding. "I wish she were here."

Mace returned the smile. "She is, child." He said softly, wiping his lips dry and placing the goblet down before he returned to where he had sat, wrapping his arm around his daughter. "She would be extraordinarily proud." Margaery felt a tear fall down her cheek at hearing that as she nestled further into her Father's arm, relishing the intimacy for a moment. The silence was broken however as Mace let out a tiny cough, before he went for his goblet once more. "A dry throat." He said jovially as he took another swig, though that didn't help his cough, which soon brought up blood.

"Father!" Margaery cried, rushing to her feet and to Mace's side. "HELP!" She cried, just as Mace Tyrell dropped to the floor, wheezing and writhing as his goblet clattered to the ground. The doors burst open and Ser Garth ran into the room, taking one look at the scene before he saw the goblet and the state of his former Liege Lord.

"Keep away from the goblet, Your Grace." Ser Garth warned. He withdrew his sword and immediately checked the room over while Margaery held her Father's head in her lap. "I will get help." He followed up after assessing no more danger."

"Hurry!" The Queen cried, the sight of her Father's purple face now covered in blood and bile horrifying her. "HURRY!" She screamed, knocking Ser Garth into immediately running out of the room.

A strangled cry came from Mace's throat then taking Margaery's attention, his eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was now leaking blood as quickly as his mouth, and almost as quickly as it had started, the Lord of Highgarden's life left him, and his body slumped still.

Fun Fact: Arbor Gold was the wine used in the killing of the Frey's by Arya Stark in the show, so it became the obvious choice when I was deciding on the type of wine in the last scene. You should also be able to recognise the poison used from a certain canon regicide... This one is slightly less of a murder mystery and the culprit is incredibly obvious.

Cersei and Myrcella continue to get at one another's throats, much to the displeasure of Tommen. He's just a boy remember with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it's hard enough managing a war between your subjects, let alone your own family.

Moving up to the North though, the gears of war are turning. Plans are drawn up and Jon and Rickon are on the march. I hope you also enjoyed the murder scene as I know a lot of you were hoping to see one, I intended to show Sansa's quick thinking so I hope that came off well for you all.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it in the reviews, I really do enjoy reading them all.

Next Time: Margaery and Myrcella have differing opinions on how Tommen should react to Mace Tyrell's murder, while down in Dorne a tense meeting between leaders takes place…

Reviews:

roggerlopez99: You've got to love a red herring!

Silver crow: She's explaining how she learnt from Tyland's words and actions, and she did.

Guest (flashback): It was always going to happen, I told you it was happening in the end of chapter Authors Notes.

Supremus85: Robert's way would have made for a terrible story. Tyland's way didn't.

RohanVos: Thank you so much!

Trane671: I'm going to put it out there, I don't share your hatred for Sansa, quite the opposite I really like her character and I enjoy writing her. As you can see this chapter her killing Tyland wasn't cowardly in Tyland's sleep.

Rolling Mist 13: That was my thinking in fairness! Plus it's a way to show everyone, in story and the readers, that Sansa isn't some meek wife that's stuck. She is a strong character with her own ambitions.