They kept Brienne hidden, of course. Qyburn would undoubtedly know she had gone, but seeing as he was likely meant to have had her killed anyway - and kept her alive for his own sick experiments, judging from the gruesome contents of the journals and papers present in the cell which Ren had glanced over and instantly wanted to strangle the man - there was no one he could really tell that information to without being punished by Bolton for his carelessness. And likely end up in a similar state to many of his 'experiments'.

To allow the woman to recover, they had smuggled her up to Dacey's quarters, which would be of little interest to anyone. When she was able to speak in coherent sentences, she had little to tell them that she hadn't already; Bolton men had asked to take Lady Morganna away from her, she had refused under orders from Lady Rosennis and things had gotten violent.

Ren, Jaime and Dacey all marvelled at the fact she had gone up against a dozen armed men alone instead of just backing down.

"I had no chance," Brienne admitted. "And no choice. Lady Rosennis had asked me to protect her daughter, so that's what I did,"

From that moment Ren had vowed to himself to ensure that the woman - still half a girl, really - was handsomely rewarded when all this was done.

They had smuggled Brienne out of the castle when she was fit to ride again, but she had not gone happily.

"I don't want to leave Lady Morganna in the hands of those monsters," She protested stubbornly. "They almost certainly killed her cousin and her mother!"

"You being here will just get us all killed," Ren said flatly. "Bolton has gone to a lot of effort to keep Morganna alive, which means he has plans for her, which won't be pleasant but at least he won't kill her. If you wish to help, linger around the area and listen for word of us travelling north. Then if you can get her away from the soldiers, you can guard her to your heart's content,"

So Brienne left, albeit reluctantly. They used the grandiose chaos of Lord Tywin's arrival to mask the single, hooded rider leaving the castle one evening.

The arrival of the Lannister contingent was as deliberately impressive as expected, and was met with no small amount of hostility from the Northmen present, still resentful from the previous battles against these same men. The death of Robb likely hadn't helped, as though the lords had mostly come to the agreement that Tywin had not ordered his assassination as it would make no political sense, the common soldiers had not.

Despite not being entirely convinced that neither Tywin or Cersei had a hand in the murders, Ren was rather thankful for the presence of the Baratheon and Tyrell men at Harrenhal. They evened tempers between the North and the Westerlands, likely preventing a battle within the castle walls rather than the few small brawls that broke out.

Talks between the lords began almost immediately. The overall aim of the treaty remained largely the same as the one that Ren, Loreon and Tyrion had drawn up in King's Landing. These meetings merely involved going through and confirming each of the clauses, and arguing over minutiae, which was both time-consuming and dull but necessary.

Ren sat in on each of these talks, and though he got a few odd looks - mainly from those who were not Northmen, and hadn't heard him in Robb's war councils giving sound advice, seeing him simply as an unlanded bastard knight - his expression dared anyone to question his presence, and his right to speak. He had helped write this treaty, he was just as entitled to be here as Tyrion and Loreon were.

Lord Tywin was as impressive as men said. He could silence men with a mere look, everyone listened without question when he spoke and if any man had been born to rule it was him. Rather like Ren himself, Tywin sat in silence at first, listening to the arguments of other men before giving his opinion. That opinion carried considerable weight, and usually became law.

Every day when the talks were over, Ren went to see Morganna. Arya spent much of the day at her cousin's bedside, as the girl drifted in and out of consciousness but never neared lucidity. Qyburn was keeping her dosed up on milk of the poppy, apparently to give her body time to rest and heal. Ren suspected it was to keep her quiet, whatever she had seen, but now was not the time to argue. If it kept his sister alive, he had no choice.

Occasionally she muttered in her sleep, however, and there were definitely moments where her eyes would open and she'd seem a lot more present than normal. Often the words 'Mother', 'Robb' and 'no' left her lips, which was rather telling. It sickened Ren to the stomach, thinking about what his sister had seen, and the state she was kept in now, bringing him the closest to tears that he had been since the day his mother had died.

He had cried, not that he would admit that to anyone but Lizzie, who had been there in his arms in the darkness of their chamber when he finally let his grief show. She had not spoken a word of judgement nor tried to comfort him, which she knew he'd resent; she had simply been there, and though it didn't ease his grief at all, it made it a shade more bearable.

"Ren," He had been holding his sister's pale hand in his when she spoke his name, mumbled through the dose of sedative.

"I'm here," He squeezed her hand, eyes sharply glancing behind him. Qyburn was ever-present in the room, there to dose her up again if she grew too lucid.

Morganna seemed to be trying to say something, something urgent that she couldn't quite recall, eyes fixing on his in clear panic. Then another wave of milk of the poppy overcame her, her eyes clouded over once more and she relaxed, drifting back off to sleep.

Ren sighed, letting go of her hand. There and then he uttered a silent promise that he would get her out of all this alive, even if that took running off together, alone, and living as peasants in the woods. He couldn't promise to keep her safe, but he promised to try.


"Ren," Loreon approached him looking rather harried. "Come with me to the godswood. I've just had a very interesting conversation with my grandfather,"

Of course, he couldn't argue with that. The godswood was guaranteed to be a private place to talk, given that the direwolves had been aggressive and hostile to everyone who entered since Robb's death who wasn't a Stark. Sure enough, the moment they - or rather, Loreon - stepped inside and shut the gate, three huge wolves slunk out of the shadows, growling and baring their teeth.

"Enough," Ren waved a hand at them. "It's Loreon, you know him," Crow and Grey Wind calmed down - Grey Wind actually seemed to perk up attentively, as though listening - but Nymeria still was hostile until one of her brother nudged her back. Loreon seemed to relax slightly at that.

"Now that I'm not going to get mauled by wolves the size of horses... I told you we got Cersei's reply back," He didn't waste any time getting into the matter. The reply from Casterly Rock had had a general air of outrage to it; as if Cersei would sabotage the treaty in such a way! "It turns out that she sung a rather different song to Lord Tywin. I knew he was furious the moment I entered the room this morning. Tyrion was there too, and my mother, though Jaime was conspicuously absent," He paused. "Cersei wrote that she pretended to be Lord Tywin in her secret letters to Lord Bolton, pointing out that Robb and Lady Rosennis would never support Joffrey and were likely plotting against him. She encouraged him to kill them both, and in exchange she would ask her father to raise him to Lord Paramount of the North, his descendants to inherit Winterfell,"

Ren swore, violently, too angry to even come up with an articulate reply to that. Around him all three wolves were growling, Grey Wind more so than the others, even taking a swipe at a nearby tree and leaving long gouges with his claws.

"My sentiment exactly," His friend said grimly. "She told her father this proudly, clearly expecting praise. Of course, it didn't come. Lord Tywin has ordered her to be essentially under house arrest. She can't see her children and can't send any letters. She has no coin available to her to bribe the servants, who are all female to avoid another exchange of favours. But the damage has clearly been done already, of course,"

There was a long pause. All he wanted to do was reach his hands around Cersei Lannister's pale neck and throttle her violently, punching her pretty face for good measure.

"I'll bide my time," Ren said eventually, voice low and hard. "You give Bolton what he wants. Let him become Lord Paramount, let him think he rules Winterfell. We can't use this as proof," Because no matter how angry Tywin was at Cersei, he surely wouldn't let this matter become common knowledge and shame his house. "And with Robb dead, I'm just a bastard, I can't accuse Bolton of treason without solid proof," Brienne would back him up, but no doubt they'd twist her story, saying that she was trying to run away with Morganna and the Bolton men stopped her. "No, I'll wait. Bolton will pay for this, Cersei Lannister too,"

Grey Wind howled in agreement, and the other two soon joined in.


He was not surprised when the matter of Sansa's marriage came up. Neither was he surprised when the matter had grown men, lords, squabbling like children. Even Lord Tywin joined in, suggesting marrying the girl to his younger son Tyrion - to cries of outrage - or his nephew Lancel, pointing out that marriage alliances were the best way to secure this peace treaty. Ren's thoughts immediately went to his mother and Jaime, only to remember that she was married - only to remember she was no longer here to marry anyone.

Tywin's offer seemed to cement the Northern lords into some form of agreement, however, horrified at the idea of another spouse of the Stark in Winterfell being a southerner.

"I hate to say it, seeing as I would hardly turn down the chance for one of my brothers or cousins to sit in Winterfell," Ser Wendel Manderly finally conceded reluctantly. "But with Lady Sansa being a lady, and half a southerner to boot, it seems to me that we must strengthen her claim beyond dispute. None of us wish for a son of any house to rule for her, so let her marry her cousin, Lady Rosennis' son, and have him take her name,"

There was some grumbling, as that would give Bolton an edge over them all, but not so big an edge as it would give any other house marrying into the Starks. Thus, all the houses with no sons of marriageable age backed this proposal, as did those who had no chance of being chosen. And so the agreement was made and a letter was sent requesting that Sansa was to travel here from the Vale.

Roose Bolton kindly stepped in then, to be Lord Paramount of the North until his son came of age in two years. This was where Domeric's death had actually helped him, as he was now above reproach with regard to the deaths of Lady Rosennis and Robb; surely he would never have endangered or killed his own son and heir, nor his own wife.

Ren met the decision with a stony stare, knowing that there was no way he could stop this, not now. Whilst the decision itself was not a bad one - he loved his brother, and would certainly be happy to see him in Winterfell - the fact that Bolton had won was enough to make his blood boil.

To keep everyone happy, Arya was also betrothed to a Ryswell and Aileen to an Umber. Anticipating the inevitable question of who Morganna would marry, and perhaps awaiting the objection to the Bolton-Stark match that Ren would never make, the rumours that he was indeed Jaime's bastard had started to resurface again with a vengeance, this time worryingly coupled with more damning truths that Morganna was too.

He knew who was responsible, of course, though would never be able to trace it back directly. He'd hoped that this would die down, as rumours usually did, but unfortunately this time people actually seemed to believe it, and it seemed impossible to contain.

There had always been rumours about him being Jaime's son, but there had been rumours of equal weight that said he was the Mad King's bastard; people had no proof for either. Now it had been said about Morganna, however, she was so clearly a Lannister that it was impossible to deny, not with Jaime himself in the castle.

Thankfully it seemed that most of the Northern lords - the people that mattered for his future plans - met this news with relative indifference. It would have been scandal, had his mother been alive, but seeing as she was not and there was a multitude of other issues to distract themselves with, most did not seem to care overmuch. Though Lord Karstark eyed him with considerably more dislike than before; no matter how grateful he was for Ren saving his son Torrhen in the Whispering Wood, his hate of Jaime for killing Eddard outweighed it.

Nonetheless, Ren was sure to go round all the lords in turn, starting a conversation here, having a spar there, ensuring his standing with them was relatively good. He would never be their equal, all chance of that had died with Robb, but he had friends in high places (Loreon) and had been earning their respect since the start of the war.

His mother had also been well respected, though perhaps less so now to more traditional lords, and to those who had a particular dislike of Jaime Lannister. Her reputation was tarnished, but not in tatters; the fact she had recently died prevented lots of the more public scorn that usually would have been directed her way.

The last of the lords he made an effort to see was Lord Bolton. Ren fully intended to take advantage of the rumours that had being going round - which he and Loreon, possibly aided by Tyrion, may or may not have started - saying that he had discovered his wife's treachery in advance and killed her for it. Which was not too far from the truth.

"You owe me nothing," He held Bolton's unnaturally pale grey eyes and trying not to focus on the fact that they were likely the last his mother and Robb had seen. "But I'm sure you've heard some of the nastier rumours going around recently, about Lady Bolton. If my voice lends support to you, that should quell those rumours nicely and ensure that Edrick has a smooth ascension to being Lord Paramount of the North. Something I want as much as you do, for obvious reasons," Implying that his brother would favour him once he was lord.

"Very well," Bolton said after thinking a moment. "You'll get a small keep on Stark lands, a name for your house and descendants, and a wife from a minor noble family," It was very little effort for him to do so, but gave Ren a reason to act loyal.

He smiled, accepting the favour from his mother's murderer all the while imagining cutting his head off with a cracked, rusty butter knife. His revenge would wait, and then the man would get the gruesome death that was coming for him.


"Lord Tywin Lannister requests that you attend his solar,"

Ren blinked in surprise at the messenger in red and gold who approached him. But of course, he went with him. One did not refuse a summons from the Old Lion, no matter if their families had only been at war a few months ago.

He wondered if this was because of fact that everyone suddenly knew him as Jaime's bastard, as what other reason would the man have for wanting a private audience? Would he be direct about it, or dance around the fact?

Ren realised as he waited outside the door, the guard knocking for him, that this would be the first time he met one of his grandparents; the only one who was still alive, in fact. Absurdly he found himself biting back a smile as he imagined what Lord Tywin would do if he called him grandfather.

"My lord," He bowed his head as the guard showed him in.

"Ser Renan," Lord Tywin was sat behind his desk looking to be finishing a letter or report of some kind. "Sit," He nodded to the chair in front of the desk.

Ren sat, and didn't speak. After a long pause, during which the man finished writing, Lord Tywin looked up, eyes cold and appraising.

"My son is foolish. Under different circumstances, you could have been heir to Casterly Rock," Direct it is.

Different circumstances being if Jaime had agreed to put aside his Kingsguard vows after the rebellion, had let it be known that he had a son with Rosennis Stark and married her himself, their child, Ren, legitimised by King Robert. For a fleeting moment he let himself wonder what that would be like, but quickly shook those thoughts off - it would never be.

"Instead," The man continued. "You are simply a bastard knight sworn to House Stark," The look in his eyes was almost challenging, but Ren did not rise to the bait.

"Aye, my lord,"

"You speak like a Northerner," Tywin's tone dripped disapproval. "And you lie, too. All accounts say that you sat at your cousin's war councils and spoke as an equal to great lords. That not all, but a great deal, of the late Lord Stark's success was a result of your contributions. You distinguished yourself in every battle. You acted as an envoy for the North in King's Landing, helping to draw up plans for a treaty. You prevented Lord Tully rising to the bait at the Battle of the Fords, allowing my army to be trapped in the west and Stannis to take King's Landing," And didn't his glare darken at that. "You advised Lord Stark not to trust the Greyjoys, even if that advice was ignored. Also your involvement in that rather near miss at the Crag, which would have lost the Freys to your cause had it gone further,"

Oh... That made sense that the man knew of that. Lady Sybell's conviction in attempting to force a marriage between her daughter and Robb had been rather too assured to simply be acting alone, without support, given that she was essentially betraying her liege lord who was not exactly known for his forgiving nature.

What worried him more was how the man knew all the rest of that. There was no chance he'd had spies in their camp all the while, or else he would never have let himself be trapped in the west. He must have found it out since coming to Harrenhal.

"Not to mention," And here Tywin's expression darkened further until even Ren had to fight the urge not to shift uncomfortably in his seat, but tried to hold his gaze. "Leading the party to the Banefort to steal my daughter and her son directly from under the noses of an entire castle guard,"

"I felt it necessary, my lord," He said to that entirely truthful accusation. "Lady Giana was treated with the respect her station demands throughout," If the woman had gone to her father - or son, for that matter - complaining of degrading or rough treatment, he would not be in any state to hold a conversation such as this one.

"Necessary?" Tywin raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't have killed her even if my armies were tearing down the gates of Riverrun, or else you'd lose all alliances with the Iron Throne and the enmity of your friend, Loreon Storm,"

"At the time, I still believed my cousins and younger sister to be hostages in King's Landing, as Stannis had not yet taken the city," He countered that. "Lady Giana could have been used as a bargaining tool - we'd have been out of our minds to trade Ser Jaime for three young girls," He paused before continuing. "And surely the fact she holds value to both yourself and to Loreon means that her capture could be seen as a precaution against both sides, my lord. Just in case,"

There was a silence after that answer, in which Tywin considered him with that piercing, green-gold stare.

"You are not a Lannister," The man said finally. "And never will be. But you have Lannister blood, as does your sister. My younger brother's bastard girl is a similar age and serves as a handmaid at Casterly Rock. The same position could be offered to your sister - later on a marriage could be arranged for her, with a landed knight or second son,"

"Thank you, my lord," Ren inclined his head; that was more than he expected. A lot more. He wondered if his answers had decided how much the man was willing to offer. "That is a generous offer," It was likely best that Morganna remained out of the North, for the time being, and she could always serve her friend Myrcella.

"As for yourself," Tywin did not acknowledge his thanks. "A position as a household knight at either Casterly Rock or King's Landing would be suitable. Given your skill with a sword, talent for strategy and friendship with the Lord Regent, I might even suggest the Kingsguard if my son had not made the same woeful choice," Was that... almost a joke? He wasn't sure, given the man showed no flicker of amusement.

"My thanks again," He said. "But I must refuse your offer, for now. Lord Bolton has granted me a small keep in the North, a name and a wife. My support would quell some rather nasty rumours that mysteriously surfaced concerning the death of my mother,"

He smiled faintly, and to his surprise Lord Tywin threatened to smile for a split second too. He didn't, of course, but the mere possibility was terrible enough.

Ren paused then, treading carefully as he continued.

"I would like to be in the North to see my remaining family settled in Winterfell, in their proper place," He felt a flash of anger cross his expression. "All wrongs righted,"

If you took his words at face value, he was talking of Sansa and Edrick. It didn't take a genius to read into that however, and Lord Tywin clearly caught his meaning. Of course he did; thanks to his daughter he knew very well what the Boltons had done and likely knew what Ren had been investigating. He levelled his assessing stare at him once more, though seemed to understand the desire for revenge.

"Be careful," He said, a stark warning. Don't fuck it up and make us look bad by association. "It is one thing to raise your sword against your family's immediate enemies. Quite another if you start to look beyond that," Don't go after Cersei or Joffrey for what she did or you will earn more powerful enemies than the Boltons. He clearly knew Loreon had gone to him with every word he'd said of Cersei.

"I'm not nearly so foolish," Ren gave a grim smile. Though I did promise Mother that I'd kill Joffrey, but gods know I'm not telling you that.

There was a pause.

"When the situation in the North is to your liking," Tywin said, and wasn't that full of implication. "Return south. There will be a position in King's Landing for you that exceeds a dismal little keep in the North," What happened to being a household knight? He thinks I could be useful...

But then, if Ren succeeded in the rather lofty goal of avenging his family and causing the downfall of Roose Bolton, he supposed he would definitely be useful to a man like Tywin Lannister.


"What do you mean she's gone?" The stare Ren gave the maester was enough to have most others shifting nervously, glancing over their shoulders for backup, but Qyburn merely smiled his fatherly smile at him. Ren tried to swallow down the rising panic - the horror of going to his sister's sickbed to find it empty - and focus on the rage.

"It is good news, Ser Renan," Qyburn said, collecting his various bottles and jars in a basket from the room Morganna had been in for weeks. "Morganna Snow was well enough to travel, and her stepfather Lord Bolton was kind enough to arrange her return to the North. Even though she's not his blood, he is most generously providing for her - I believe he found her a good husband,"

Not only had the man murdered his cousin and mother, he had now taken his sister away for gods only know what. Ren had known some awful fate was waiting for her in the North, but had expected to travel up together, to at least have more time to plan than this.

"That's horseshit," He said bluntly, viciously, his dread only worsened. "And you know it. Only a few days ago you were telling me she's too sick to have visitors, and you've insisted for weeks on keeping her dosed up on milk of the poppy, for the pain," He scoffed.

"If there is an issue, by all means go to Lord Bolton," The maester frowned, acting concerned far too convincingly. "I merely advised him to the best of my abilities on the young girl's health - " He broke off, as Ren was already striding down the corridor.

"I'd like to speak with Lord Bolton," He said to the guards, who looked at each other. "Now,"

"We don't have to listen to you now Lord Robb's dead," One of them chuckled. "Kingslayer's bastard,"

The man other smirked, and Ren felt like drawing his sword and gutting them both, or at least shoving one against a wall with a knife at his back. But that would only cause more trouble, however briefly satisfying it may be.

"Say that again when I've a sword in my hand and we'll see how willing you are to listen," He said instead with a dark look. "Take me to see Lord Bolton or someone might accidentally leave the gates of the godswood open one night, for an angry direwolf to find its way into your barracks,"

One looked rather anxious at that, backing off, while the other made a show of being scornful but knocked on the door regardless.

"Renan Snow to see you, milord," He grumbled theatrically.

"Ser Renan Snow," Came Roose Bolton's quiet voice from inside. It made Ren want to run him through every time he heard it. "He may enter,"

Ren didn't wait any longer, shoving through and into the room.

"My lord," He inclined his head the slightest amount, teeth gritted. "I just saw that you've sent my sister back north. Seeing as she's not your child, surely it is not up to you to make such decisions,"

"You are as delicate with your words as ever, ser," Bolton said mildly. "I know I am under no obligation to provide for the girl, but I raised her as my own for thirteen years - is it unusual that I wish to provide for her even now?"

"For another man, no," He said flatly. A hint of a smile twisted Bolton's thin lips at that. "Where are you sending her?"

"Winterfell," The man replied. "My bastard son is overseeing its restoration. By the time Morganna gets there, Edrick, Aileen and Lady Catelyn will have taken up residence. She will hardly be alone,"

"Qyburn said you arranged a match for her," Ren had a horrible feeling in his gut. "That was unnecessary, as was sending her away in the first place,"

"Perhaps," Bolton said. "Though she may not be my daughter, I've done her the service of arranging a worthy husband to take her hand. That very same bastard who is rebuilding the home of the Starks, Ramsay,"

His worst fears had been correct. Ren was so angry - and scared, yes - that he could barely speak.

"Your bastard wed Lady Hornwood then left her to starve and eat her own fingers!" Was the only thing he could choke out. "He was meant to have been killed by Ser Rodrik Cassel, but yet apparently still draws breath. Lord Daryn will be out for his blood on the return north,"

"A misunderstanding," Bolton said. "Ramsay was away hunting down some outlaws and it was his cruel servant Reek who allowed the lady to starve. It was Reek who Ser Rodrik killed, believing it to be Ramsay - the servant had stolen my son's clothes, thinking it would save him. I'm sure Lord Hornwood will understand,"

Well that was a blatant lie.

"Were the Lannisters not consulted on this?" He demanded. "Lord Tywin spoke of arranging her marriage himself. He is her grandfather, after all, illegitimate or not," And I'm her fucking brother!

"Then Lord Tywin will no longer have to concern himself," The man all but shrugged.

Ren left shortly after that, sure that he was going to lose his temper and draw his sword if he stayed any longer.

He made a beeline to his rooms, stopping briefly to put on his light armour and pack a bag, before heading for the stables. He tacked his own horse quickly and was riding out of the gates before anyone had a chance to question him, unable to spend a minute longer sat waiting patiently in that godawful hellhole of a castle whilst his sister was in danger.

Riding out of the shadow of Harrenhal was almost like some of an oppressive weight had lifted. For more a moment he considered riding to find Morganna, killing her guards and disappearing somewhere they could be safe - or if not that, then safer at least. Leaving it all behind. If Bolton had not killed his family, perhaps he would have done exactly that, but his desire for revenge was too much.

Instead of focusing on that all-too-tantalising possibility, he focused on the task at hand. Morganna had likely left that morning, though it could easily have been the night before. They would be a larger group, however, and transported a sickly girl, so if he pushed hard enough perhaps he could catch them.

Ren was expecting at least two or three days of hard travel, only sleeping half the night and pushing his horse as fast as possible without killing it. However, he had only slept one night out in the forest, setting off at dawn the next day - he hadn't even reached the River Road - before he came across the grisly scene.

His horse sensed it before he did, shying and dancing nervously. Wary, Ren nudged it on and drew his sword, only to stop dead as a bend in the road revealed the fate of the dozen Bolton guards escorting Morganna north.

Men in pink cloaks hung from trees by their feet, throats violently slit so that the ground beneath them was sprayed in blood. It reminded Ren of when a pig was slaughtered and hung up to drain. The corpses were clearly less than a day old, and despite furiously searching the area, heart in his mouth, he could not find any trace of Morganna, dead or alive.

If he hadn't known that Bolton killed his mother, he would've believed such a brutal and cruel attack to be down to the outlaws that were blamed publicly for her death. But now he knew these outlaws were fictional, and had no idea who could or would do such a thing to twelve armed men. And for what reason? To take Morganna hostage, not realising she was so worthless to Lord Bolton that he'd give her to his brute of a bastard son?

If he was honest, Ren was rather relieved. If she was a hostage she was safe, for now, though he'd no doubt have to employ Jaime to grovel to Lord Tywin to pay for her release. A better fate than what awaited her at the hands of Ramsay Snow, at any rate.

There was no need to tell those back at Harrenhal of the fate of the Bolton men here. Let them discover that on their return north.


Sansa had yet to come from the Eyrie.

In the weeks since Robb's death, there had been no reply to say that Elbert Arryn, her current guardian, had even received the message. And that was exactly as Ren had wanted it.

He had written to the Lord Protector of the Vale himself, revealing a little of the truth about the Bolton's treachery and relying on the good impression his mother had made there for the man to trust him. He requested that, if possible, could Lord Elbert delay his cousin's return, and to not under any means send her to Harrenhal.

To his satisfaction, Arryn had done as he asked. No doubt using the excuse of lost ravens and bad weather, he had delayed his reply as long as was reasonable. When the eventual response had arrived - that day - it apologising for the lack of correspondence, instead promising to send Lady Sansa by ship to White Harbour from Gulltown, so the Northern army could return home in good time.

No doubt Sansa would have troubles crossing through the mountains from the Eyrie, which would delay her, and then weather conditions at the coast would be too dangerous to sail, pushing her return back further. And when she finally reached White Harbour, depending how things were progressing on his end, she would once more be delayed in coming to Winterfell to marry Edrick.

Ren would have to make a priority of convincing Lord Manderly to follow his cause.

But since they no longer had to wait for Sansa, and now that the treaty had recently been agreed upon and signed by Tywin Lannister, Loreon Storm, Roose Bolton, Garlan Tyrell and Edmure Tully, it was time to depart Harrenhal at last; the unreasonably huge, ugly beast of a castle where his cousin, stepbrother and mother had all died.

Ren was the only one brave enough to let the direwolves out of the godswood, Arya at his side. They had been very aggressive since Robb's death, particularly towards the Bolton men, though snapped at anyone that dared get too close.

"Remember to make yourself calm," He told his little cousin. "She'll pick up on your anger. I'd laugh as much as you to see him take Lord Bolton's hand, but it would be more trouble than it's worth,"

Arya had been in just as black a mood as the wolves, which likely hadn't helped Nymeria's temperament.

"Crow's just as bad," She pointed out. "So that clearly doesn't work,"

"Crow likes to scare people," He said. "He has yet to actually bite outside of a battle. The same can't be said for Nymeria," The she-wolf had taken the fingers of the boy sent to feed them a week ago.

Arya didn't reply to that, only scowled. Ren took the opportunity of her silence, and the godswood gate closing behind them, to fill her in on the whole story.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, alone," He said as they walked deeper into the trees. She looked up in interest. "You must not speak of what I say now, to anyone. If they realise we know this much, I'm dead and you won't be heard from again," She nodded quickly.

"I won't tell,"

"Good," He took a breath. "Roose Bolton killed Robb, not the Frey girl. He killed my mother too, though I'm not sure how Domeric died. Morganna was injured in the process, though I think that was an accident - she was probably only there to threaten my mother with,"

The look on the girl's face was nothing short of murderous.

"I'll kill him," Her tone was low, deadly. "I'll kill every stinking man in a stinking pink cloak, and Lord Bolton too,"

"Glad we feel the same," Ren said grimly. "We will kill them. All of them. But not yet. Remember what I said. No one must know that we know this, or we'll fail in our vengeance. Bolton wants to rule the North through Edrick and Sansa - I wrote to Elbert Arryn and told him to delay sending Sansa to White Harbour. Gives us time to plan a nasty fate for them all,"

"Fine," She clearly wasn't happy about waiting, but saw sense in his way. "Thank you for telling me. Why did you?"

"You're currently the only family I have here," He said truthfully. "The only family I have, save my siblings and Sansa. You've lived through horrors, I'm sure you can handle this. And, if you did find out alone, I've stopped you trying to assassinate Bolton without talking to me,"

"Fair enough,"

"Also, Bolton tried to send Morganna north to marry his vile bastard son," He said, quickly continuing as her rage flared again. "I was furious too and rode after them, that's where I've been for the past few days. I found the party slaughtered, hung upside down from trees with slit throats. No sign of Morganna,"

"Maybe she escaped, like I did," Arya suggested hopefully, then looked doubtful. "Although I'm not sure she'd survive in the woods like I did. She's too pretty, she couldn't pass as a boy. And she doesn't know anything about hunting or fighting,"

"I looked for her in the woods," Ren said. "I found no trace of her, though there were hoof-prints leading away from the site. She's likely been kidnapped, in which case they'll want a ransom - not ideal, but it means they'll keep her in one piece at least,"

"Can we pay a ransom?" She asked with wide eyes. "Sansa's Lady Stark, she'd pay it,"

"But Bolton is Lord Protector," He grimaced. "Which means we'll have to rely on Lord Tywin,"

Arya scrunched up her face.

"I hate Lannisters," She then realised her mistake. "Sorry. I hate Cersei, and Tywin, and Joffrey. I just don't like the Imp or the Kingslayer,"

He had to smile at that.

"I'm not a Lannister," He said. "Neither is Morganna,"

They had reached the heart tree by this point. The three wolves were gathered around it and looked up at their approach, though Grey Wind swiftly returned his attention back to whatever he'd been doing.

"What's he doing?" Arya asked curiously, moving over to where the wolf seemed to be scratching on the ground. "What - Ren, he's writing!"

"What?" Doubtful, Ren hurried over nonetheless, eyebrow raising as he saw that Grey Wind was indeed writing, scratching letters into the lower trunk of a nearby oak with his claw with a precision that a wild beast should not possess.

As he drew closer, close enough to read what it said, he stopped dead in his tracks.

ROBB

The letters were crude and uneven but letters nonetheless.

"What in hells..." Arya was gawping, but the wolf wasn't done, intently scratching out three more letters in front of the name.

I AM ROBB

And suddenly it all made sense. Grey Wind's behaviour for the past weeks had not simply been an animal mourning the lost presence from his mind. The rage had been Robb's, the persistence had been Robb's. Ren turned to look the wolf in the eye, and his dead cousin stared back at him.

"Robb?" Arya turned to Grey Wind, eyes suddenly glassy. "Is that you? Are you Grey Wind now?"

The animal nodded. It was absurd to see a wolf nod. It was absurd to see a dead man wearing a wolf's skin. Arya didn't say another word, simply ran over and threw her arms around the huge wolf, and her brother rested his wolfish head on her shoulder.

Ren knew he had pushed the limits of the bond they had with the direwolves more than any of the others, who had been limited to strange dreams and the occasional flash of wolfishness. But never in his wildest imagination had he thought something like this was possible, that when the human body was killed, the soul and mind would inhabit the body of their wolf.

When they returned to Winterfell and everything was right again - if - he would have to employ Aileen to help him read every book in the library on wargs and skinchanging. For now, he thanked the gods and smiled genuinely for the first time since he had seen Robb's bloody corpse, joining Arya in throwing his arms around the direwolf.


She stood beside her horse, watching from within the trees as the Bolton men rode past, eyes narrowed as she saw the tall, dark-haired figure of her daughter sat in front of one of them, her hands bound. So it was true, she was alive. No small part of her felt like weeping in relief.

One signal from Lord Beric Dondarrion and the archers released their arrows. The Brotherhood Without Banners melted out of the woods to fall upon the men. There were cries of alarm, surprise then pain as the arrows struck their target and the outlaws attacked them with sword and spear. They had the element of surprise, and superior numbers, yet were hindered by her orders to not kill where possible.

Pink-cloaked men were disarmed and tied, with no casualties but a few injuries on her side. Morganna had taken advantage of the chaos, and her guard getting struck by an arrow to the shoulder, shoving him off the horse and taking the reins for herself. No doubt she meant to outride the outlaws and guards both, and likely could given she rode like her mother, but was stopped by Ross stepping onto the road herself and seizing the horse's bridle.

It was a more abrupt reunion than she would've liked, and her daughter looked down at her like she was seeing, well, a ghost. Her mouth opened slightly, and Ross could truly take in how pale and clammy her daughter looked, the dark circles under her wide eyes, which were older than before. She appeared... ill.

"Mother?" Morganna choked out. "But you're - They told me - Am I dead too?"

"I didn't die," She couldn't think of anything else to say, and that was almost the truth.

She had lasted longer than most who received a knife to the chest, as it turned out Bolton's aim at a woman running towards him was slightly off and he only nicked the edge of her heart. A fatal wound nonetheless; she was dead by the time Thoros and Beric found her, but only just. The spark of life having just left, it was easy to return it, or so the red priest said.

Beric always spoke of how every time he came back, he left another piece of himself behind. Ross had yet to work out what she had left behind; as far as she knew, all her memories were intact, her pain and joy both. Her love for her family (and Jaime), her simmering hatred for Roose Bolton and anyone who bore the name Targaryen, even the fact she enjoyed riding.

She still had a pulse, which both Thoros and Beric had found odd, remarking that perhaps the spark had not been quite got yet. According to the red priest, she'd had a very strange reaction to the ritual that was meant to bring her back, almost like her very body was resisting the touch of the fire magic only to accept it in what he could only describe as a reactive surge. She had joked that people claimed the Starks had always had ice in their veins, only for him to say that didn't seem like an unreasonable explanation.

"I never died," She repeated again, hardly going to tell her daughter that she was all but raised from the dead.

"But I saw it!" The girl protested, still having not moved an inch. "I saw him stab you, and Ren saw your body,"

"He did stab me," She said. "But I'm with a red priest. Some strange magic healed me - I don't understand it, but I'm hardly going to complain,"

"I - " Morganna swayed in the saddle, and Ross moved swiftly to steady her.

"Come on, come down," Her daughter clumsily slid off the horse, staggering as she hit the floor, immediately bending over to empty her stomach into a nearby bush. Ross held her hair back from her face.

"Why didn't you come back?" The girl looked up at her, eyes wet and voice hoarse, still leaning over. "Everyone thinks you're dead," She retched again. "I've been locked in a room since that night, dosed up on milk of the poppy, but I remember Ren and Arya coming to talk to me,"

She straightened up, wiping her mouth, and her eyes. Dosed up on milk of the poppy... If she'd been forced to take it since Ross' death no wonder she looked so ill, now she had suddenly been denied it. Coupled with the fact she'd near bled to death several weeks ago, and had just seen the mother she believed dead appear in front of her, it was hardly a recipe for fine health.

"They're going to marry Edrick to Sansa," Morganna continued. "And Lord Bolton's going to be Lord Paramount of the North. If you came back and said what had happened, they'd all have his head!"

"If I come back now he'll reveal that you're a bastard, and who your father is, and I'll have no credibility to anyone," She said, having thought about this matter a great deal.

"But everyone already knows," Morganna said, and her stomach dropped. "There were rumours, not just about Ren, and they never went away. He was sending me to marry his bastard Ramsay,"

She felt her face darken.

"I'll have his head," There was such venom in her voice that even Morganna looked unnerved. Though admittedly she had looked unnerved since Ross stepped onto the road.

"My lady!" A shout from behind made them both look up. Ross smiled grimly.

"I'd advise you to stay here, seeing as you've just been sick in a bush," She said. "But if you think you can watch without losing your stomach, feel free to follow," She took the horse's bridle and swept down the road, and her daughter followed wordlessly at her side.

The Brotherhood had subdued the dozen Bolton men without any killed or severely wounded on their part, though two of the guards had died. The remaining ten were on their knees, disarmed and beaten bloody. One was arguing with Beric, spitting curses, whilst Lem Lemoncloak was kicking another men trying to fight to his feet, however a dead silence fell over all of them when she walked out.

"Lady Bolton!" There was horror in the guard's voice.

"But you're dead,"

"Evil shade!" Another shrank back.

Several more were muttering prayers, many jaws had dropped and all were looking at her with wide, scared eyes. It was rather satisfying to tell the truth, to have so many men look at her in fear. These men were tough, hardy, and wouldn't flinch when fighting a force three times as large as their own... but a dead woman walking scared the living daylights out of them.

Most of the Brotherhood, on the other hand, were smiling, darkly amused. Lem let out a gravelly laugh, and even Beric smiled regretfully.

"Lady Stark," She corrected, and many of them jumped to hear her speak. "I think a dagger through the heart breaks any marriage vows I may have spoken. Most of you saw me murdered at my husband's hand, and I'm sure you all had a part in dumping my body in the woods," She fixed her stare, walking along the line. "You three wrestled my nephew to the floor so Lord Bolton could slit his throat," She stared at another. "You're the one that held me back," She turned again. "And you're the one that nearly killed my daughter,"

The man shook his head, shrinking back from her dangerous tone, and she laughed softly.

The questioning began soon after. The Bolton men sung an ugly song, but a revealing one that yielded a great many answers. She still did not know what had happened after her death, nor how Bolton planned to get away with it.

Now they suspected her a shade, she was rather persuasive, as it turned out, though she did have a lethal dagger in her hand and two dozen outlaws at her back. Many of the men initially refused to say anything useful, though it didn't take long before they were spilling truths from their lips.

Rosennis Stark had died in Harrenhal, both she and Morganna knew the details of that well enough. Her body had been wrapped up to conceal it and take it out to the woods to stage an ambush. A thin whore with long dark hair and a black hooded cloak had ridden out with them on her horse, so she was seen to have left.

Morganna had never left Harrenhal at all, too ill from blood loss; they had simply made a show of carrying a bundle of bloodstained rags inside, whilst Qyburn had been tending to her all night.

They had taken Domeric's body too - he had not been meant to be there, Lord Bolton deeming him too soft and too loyal to the Starks to be part of any betrayal. Ross had felt a sharp stab of guilt at that - she had liked Domeric, not as her own son nor her brother's children, but nearer than anyone else's child had got - but her hatred of Bolton made it bearable. The fact she had made him hurt as he had hurt her was enough.

However, though Bolton was indeed furious at his son's death, it did lend the staged ambush a great deal of validity as he would never have killed his own heir and removed all suspicion that he may have had a hand in his wife's murder, so that was less than ideal.

The group had ridden out the next morning, to 'search' for Lady Bolton and Morganna. In reality they were to simply find the ambush. Having discovered that her body was gone, vanished - and didn't the Brotherhood laugh at that - they had balked at the idea of telling Lord Bolton and had killed the whore instead, mutilating her so it looked like her corpse was got to by animals. They had then returned to Harrenhal with the bodies of Domeric and 'Rosennis'.

Once all the information was squeezed out of them, the business was fairly quick, but messy. She felt little remorse at slitting each of their throats herself, despite any pleas or curses, but she doubted that was because she had come back from the dead and lost any sense of mercy; she would never have flinched at doing such a thing to people who had murdered her family.

The Brotherhood were useful in tying rope around the dying, choking men's feet and hauling them up into the trees to hang upside down. It was a grisly scene that surrounded them by the end, ten corpses bleeding out like slaughtered pigs, but it certainly sent a message. The two who had died during the fighting were hung next to them.

Perhaps Ross would ordinarily have felt shamed that her daughter had to see such a thing, see her mother's hands drenched in blood, but she did not. Morganna did not appalled at any rate; she caught the small smile twisting the girl's lips, and her stony grey eyes had never looked more like her mother's.

"I'd rather be a Snow than a Bolton," She said when Ross caught her eye, and Ross smiled faintly.


Thoughts? Finally the long awaited meeting between Ren and Tywin! I hope i did it justice and that everyone's motivations and actions make sense as I have put a lot of thought into making this feasible.

For anyone who is thinking Ross' rise from the dead without losing anything of herself is too good to be true, it is, and this has all been done for a reason; her death and resurrection, her strange reaction to fire magic, all of this is necessary and will be explained in later chapters. Also Starks going into their direwolf when they die is not something i have made up; it's confirmed in the books that skinchangers warg into their animals when their mortal body dies, and a popular fan theory is that when Robb was killed at the Twins he went into Grey Wind before the wolf was killed too.

As ever, I welcome constructive criticism so please let me know if I can improve - when I complete this story I will do a massive edit of the whole thing, polishing out little details I could've done better. Thanks for reading!