A/N: I apologise this took almost three weeks. I unfortunately had a bereavement in the family and I did not feel like writing. My regular schedule is now back on track.

Catelyn VI

The sun was streaming in through a crack in her tent, that was the first thing she noticed. The second was feeling a large knot at the nape of her neck from not brushing her hair for days. Lastly was the dried tears on her cheeks. It felt like a dream, a horrible dream. One she desperately wanted to wake up from and she would be in her bed in Winterfell with her husband beside her to begin tickling her cheek like he did every morning. She took a deep breath at this, trying her best to keep her tears at bay before getting off the makeshift bed to change out of her nightclothes. It was a simple dress she pulled on, navy blue with little gold accents.

It felt like she had a massive stone on her chest, pressing down to the point she was struggling to breathe. But she couldn't let it show. In a war camp, any sign of weakness cannot be shown. She had done so enough whilst still in Riverrun where she had the luxury of remaining cooped up in her childhood room. They were not in Riverrun anymore though, they were currently camped around a dozen leagues from Oxcross after a roaring success. Not that it felt like that to her, but nothing felt like much anymore. The moment that letter had been read aloud the one thing she had hoped would never happen had happened.

Stark's don't do well in the south. It was a saying that was well known. Lord Rickard executed by being cooked alive in his armour, Brandon executed by Tyroshi noose trying to cut his father free, and now her husband missing a head. How it had happened she knew nought, but it was common knowledge the Lannister's liked to display heads of their enemies on spikes on walls. It angered her, knowing that was where he was when he should have been handed to the Silent Sister's before being sent back to the North to be buried alongside his siblings and father. It's what anyone honourable would do, but the golden haired shits were anything but honourable.

Anger swelled in her as she left the tent in search for either of her family members. Wanting to know what their next move would be. A part of her wanted to try and convince her nephew to head straight for the capital and kill every Lannister man they came across and then march up towards Casterly Rock to finish them for good. Gods, did she want to look Cersei in the eye in retaliation for not stopping her mad son. Especially remembering the gleam in her bright green eyes when she spotted her eldest daughter who looked exactly like she did when she herself was the same age. It wasn't difficult to deduce they must've been scrambling. Arya was last seen in Maidenpool, Sansa was missing, and now her husband was dead. They had nothing to use as leverage other than Ice. An insult of the highest accord.

Ice had been in the Stark family for hundreds- maybe even thousands of years. Had been wielded by every Lord of Winterfell and the Kings of Winter beforehand. They had no right to keep it at all.

There were three things on her mind now. The first was ripping that wretched family out root and stem. The second was retrieving her husbands body so he could receive the burial he deserved. And lastly it was retrieving the sword. She didn't look where she was going, simply following the words of the crowd as to where everyone was, people stepping out of her path with a slight hint of fear. Not that they had anything to fear from her other than a tongue that had been sharpened and with blood flowing through her veins filled with extreme hatred.

It had been three weeks since the battle had been won, a small swell of pride entering her before being quashed once again by anger. They had left the site of the battle after retrieving their own dead so they could be returned to their families. Ensuring to shoot down the ravens that were flown from survivors before any word could get out. Some did manage to escape, but it was much less than what it could've been which in turn kept their intentions to a controlled amount. Except, it wasn't exactly a controlled amount anymore as thousands now knew.

Herself and her eldest three children, her father, her uncle, her brother, the men at Castle Black, all House's in the North alongside all House's in the Riverland's as they had answered the call. The only one who hadn't was her aunt Lady Shella, just the thought of her willingly giving up Harrenhal to be used as a base by Tywin Lannister made the anger within her bubble to a boiling point. The woman's cousin had perished protecting Jaeron, so it was not only an insult on her own House and on House Whent. Her mother would be yelling non stop in the seven heavens at what had occurred.

Minisa and Shella hadn't always been close with one another, but when it came down to it, they were sisters. They would fight with one another in the name of their family. Something her own sister had not been doing. Lysa's silence ever since Tyrion had been freed after his trial was all the telling there was. Catelyn had been close with her sister when they were young, and she couldn't pinpoint when exactly a wedge opened between them. Had it always been there and they just didn't notice it or ignored it? Or had something caused it? Either way, it was at least two decades ago and if her sister wanted to remain neutral, it was her choice. Despite how shameful it was for their House.

"Mother, what brings you here?"

She snapped her head up at this, not even realising she was now stood in front of Robb who was giving her a quizzical look. Quickly composing herself and replying,

"What are our next plans?"

Her son bit his lip a little and looked up for a second which confirmed where her nephew was.

"Whilst scouting Jaeron-"

"His Grace, Robb. Aye, he is family but we are in public. You should get used to referring to him as such."

Robb nodded a little.

"His Grace was scouting yesterday and he received word that Lord Tywin he has split his forces. Some are moving north but they don't appear to be heading for the Kings Road meaning they aren't going to the North. Some are moving east and some are remaining stationary. We are considering whether to travel further into the Westerland's or wiping out the head of House."

Catelyn pursed her lips tightly, seeing the predicament herself. Whilst she had no battle knowledge, she did have plenty of political knowledge, and this was one of the rare occasions where both played into the others hand.

"If you go for Lord Tywin, you'll only anger the Westerland's and as we are situated here we are asking to be slaughtered. If you remain in the Westerland's, you continue to cut them off so they can't call as many armies. But remaining idle is never a good thing in the long run."

"That's what Ser Arthur said too. He's more inclined for us to remain where we are until we know the Lannister's next move."

A rush of wind broke them from their silence followed by the ground shaking slightly. Turning to see the bright silver dragon and his rider removing the chains so he could dismount. Rhaegon stretching his neck back before darting into the sky once more and vanishing amongst the clouds. Jaeron was dressed in iron covered by black leather, the red three headed dragon stitched across his chest but he did not have either of his swords attached to his hips. A stupid move, because the Dornish had proven that dragons were not invincible. The killing of Meraxes and Queen Rhaenys may have been a lucky shot, but it could always happen again.

"My Lady, what is on your mind?"

Now she recalled the awkward feeling Robb must've had when she corrected him. It was old to be referred to by title when with family.

"I wanted to know what our next moves would be and to see if I could offer any assistance, your Grace."

"And?"

She simply shook her head to confirm she had nothing else to add on the subject as of right now.

"You will ride for Bitterbridge at dawn, my Lady."

She was confused at this, and from the way Robb's eyebrows creased he also was. Why would she be commanded to ride for Bitterbridge? Whilst not too far a ride away, it was in the Reach, and said Kingdom was currently under the rule of Renly Baratheon. They'd agreed to not interfere with the squabbling brothers.

"The warg we have keeping an eye on Stannis overheard him saying that he does not want to be King and that he is only pressing on it as he believes he is the heir. It's a risk, but we cannot remain idle as that's just setting us up to be trapped between Tywin and the loyal Westerland House's. I want as little death as possible-"

"Except the Lannister's, make sure they are made extinct-"

Her nephew glared at her for this.

"Whilst I agree many of the Lannister's need to die, I will not drive a House to extinction."

Catelyn and Robb opened their mouths to protest but this was stopped when Lyrax roared- when did she even appear? It was surprising how well she blended in with the night unlike her brother. Anger simmering within and ready to topple over but she knew her place.

"Many of them are innocent in this mess. Myrcella, Tommen, Lord Kevan's children, Lady Genna's children, and so on. I know what it is like to be on the end of being wiped out for a name."

Just like that, the anger that was ready to boil over like a stew dissipated, now understanding his viewpoint. House Targaryen had been almost completely wiped out simply because Robert Baratheon wanted to rid the world of Dragonspawn as he always said.

"Also, I want as little death as possible. I already feel enough guilt over those who have died for me already, I don't want it to be more than there absolutely needs to be. We all know how reliable the wargs are when it comes to spying, I have no reason to doubt this report is not genuine. We could beat Renly but it would be incredibly difficult considering the sheer numbers he has at his disposal. But if we were to ally with Stannis."

He didn't continue after this, the penny dropping for her as a tiny grin formed on her face. Not enough that it was noticeable unless it was being looked for. Not only would it bulk out their forces so they were more evenly matched, it would cause even more of an uproar in the Stormland's.

"I have also set two of the wargs to try and locate Ser Barristan's whereabouts. All we do know is that he was dismissed by Joffrey Waters, but we don't know where he went. If he went back to the Stormland's then we've more or less got the Selmy's on our side."

The small grin she had grew in understanding, aiming to get the Bold to his side as a Kingsguard too which would further legitimise his claim.

"You had better prepare, my Lady. You have a rather long journey ahead of you. The scout confirmed that is where the brothers are expected to meet and to parlay, I intend for you to be there for the parlay. If they come to an agreement you are to write to me immediately with what occurs. If they don't, I want you to try and talk both sides into joining. The Tyrell's were loyal to my family even if they barely took part in the Rebellion. If this fails, try and get Stannis to our side."

Arthur II

He had yet to show the latest raven he had received from Starfall to Jaeron. Call it selfish, but it was one of the rare items he got from where he had grown up. He had gone years without receiving any because it could not be known that he had survived hence his own nephew being kept in the dark on everything with only his little sister being made aware. Whilst she wasn't his sister by blood, he saw her as such. Much like the King still considered the Stark children his siblings even though they were cousins.

Allyria was all he had left of Ashara, and he'd be damned if he let anything happen to her. If it came to it, he would abandon his vows to protect her and he didn't doubt Jaeron would not fault him for it. He opened it to read the delicate writing that belonged to Wylla, the words making him want to ride for Starfall immediately but it was something he could not do. They were at war, and Kingsguard are expected to be at their Kings side unless ordered otherwise hence why he had not been in the Red Keep when Aerys was ran through the back by Ser Jaime.

He was in the cells of Riverrun still, being glad for that. It stung looking at the man whom he had Knighted himself when he was only a boy. Had fought side by side, had squired him, and knowing what he had become. Not only did he kill his King, he did not protect the infant Prince and Princess, he had cuckolded the current King, bedded his Queen who was his twin sister, and had knowingly passing his own children as trueborn. One of these was enough for execution. An oath was an oath, it could not be broken as they were not made without knowing the consequences that came of it. Whilst the Lannister was inducted in as a way to spite the Old Lion, he did take his vows seriously and regularly played with Princess Rhaenys and sparred with Prince Rhaegar.

Even now, Arthur felt immense levels of guilt for not fighting his Prince more when he had been ordered to remain with his pregnant wife. But he knew his boundaries, and Rhaegar was someone one did not want to argue with as he was incredibly stubborn. Something he shared with Jaeron. It was almost uncanny how alike father and son were considering Rhaegar had died before he had even been born. Reading the words on the parchment in confusion.

When the full story comes to light, you will know who Allyria's father was.

There was no signature, and no name was given, nor was there any identifying seal other than their House one. What did it mean? The writing itself was incredibly cursive and he didn't recognise it at all. Wondering who would know because everyone in Starfall were adamant they had no idea who had sired his niece whom he called sister. There was rumours that it had been Eddard Stark but that didn't add up with dates. Allyria was born almost a year after Harrenhal, not even two moons older than Jaeron and Robb were. No, Ashara had fallen pregnant after Harrenhal, but he knew nought of who it was and considering she travelled back and fourth between Dragonstone, Starfall, and the Red Keep, he couldn't even pinpoint a location to where the mystery man was. Only one word stuck out to him, the use of the 'was' confirming that he was dead.

He groaned a little to himself before rolling it up, battling his mind on whether to show the King this. Eventually, he would need to know. So with the thought in mind, he made his way outside and asked where he was last seen, people confirming he just gotten back to his own tent after speaking with Lady Catelyn and Lord Robb. Hearing the Lady's name had surprised him, wholly expecting for her to still be cooped up in her tent as she processed what had happened to her husband. Arthur had a lot of respect for Eddard, and he felt terrible for him. They had tried to get the word out about what was really happening but somehow they never reached the recipients. If they did, there wouldn't have been a war. Fighting yes, but that would be the worst of it. Despite this, he had bit down on need for revenge and had taken his orphaned nephew in as his own. Much like they had done with Allyria. Children were not to blame for the sins of their forefathers, a saying that was common to those of First Men descent.

His own House was one of a handful which could claim direct ancestry to the First Men and back it up with evidence. But they weren't solely of First Men descent. Rumours circulated about it but they never confirmed it, but it was obvious that somewhere down the line they had Valyrian ancestry. After all, it was only Valyrian's who had purple eyes in varying shades. But how far back had it been? Obviously there was Queen Dyanna, mother to Aegon V, but even before this they were documented to have purple eyes. It was a question he didn't know a definitive answer to, just that there was truth to it. By now, he was outside the tent where Ser Brynden was waiting, nodding to the man to confirm he should hear this as well. Jaeron was staring at Dark Sister in his hands, scanning the pale rippling pattern on the dark smoky metal before turning to face them.

"Your Grace, a raven from Starfall."

He sheathed the sword before walking over to take it from him, frowning as he took in the words himself before handing it to the Blackfish.

"When did this arrive?"

"This morning."

That was a lie, it had actually arrived yesterday morning but he didn't want him to know he had just lied directly to his face there.

"Isn't Allyria your sister, Lord Commander?"

"Nay, she is not. She is Ashara's daughter. Before you ask, she was not sired by either Brandon or Eddard, that much I know with certainty. The dates do not add up no matter how much one thinks on it."

His face remained still as he heard this which he had to commend him for because it wasn't a small lie. Ashara had made more than a name for herself despite her being young when she threw herself from Palestone tower onto the rocky shore below and being swept away by the tide. Her body had never been recovered, something which bothered him greatly.

"If this was sent, clearly whoever did sire her was important. It's too random to not be."

"But why now? I've been asking myself the same question, your Grace-"

"Ser Arthur, please call me by name whilst we are in private. The same goes for you Ser Brynden."

It was quiet for a few minutes as the young King thought it over, the parchment being handed back to him as he folded it and tucked it inside a pocket of Dawn's sheath.

"We will carry on as we have been, but I will make sure at least one of the spies investigates this. We will find out who your niece's father is, Ser. It will have to wait though, as we are fighting a war and we cannot be distracted in any way."

Sansa III

Her head ached.

That was the first thing she noticed. Like she had just banged it off a shelf or by walking into something. A dull ache and the moment she tried to open her eyes a shooting pain rippling through her body. Groaning quietly before trying to take in her surroundings. It took a few minutes before she was able to open her eyes without being in pain and it took even longer for everything to come into focus, frowning deeply as confusion took over.

Where was she?

Then it all came back like the rivers cascading over cliffs, a sense of calmness entering her alongside a small smile. She was not in the capital anymore, no longer a prisoner of her betrothed. Was he still her betrothed? It was difficult to say. And the man with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes guiding her to a ship with Lord Varys' help. What his name again? Torghen, the memory being fresh to her now alongside the promise of taking her to her cousin.

Fear settled in at this, not knowing what he had been doing. Was her father okay? She hoped Lord Varys was able to free him in one way or another. And despite her distaste over her wild sister, she hoped she was out of King Joffrey's grip too. Slowly, she tried to sit up but her muscles immediately tensed and she lay back down on the makeshift bed if the soft material underneath was anything to go by. How long had she been asleep? It can't have been long because out of all her siblings she was the lightest sleeper. A few hours she guessed. The door opened to the cabin she was in and she snapped her head around to be met with eyes such a dark shade of brown they were almost black. Eyes that widened before leaving the room in shock. What? This was answered not long after as an older female walked in with equally fair skin as herself and looking scarily similar to Torghen confirming they were related. Carrying a small glass which she handed over to her tentatively.

"Careful, young one. You've been sleeping for weeks."

At these words, the honeyed milk caught in her throat and she began choking. Hitting herself right in between her collarbones as she hacked the little that had gotten stuck before looking to her in surprise.

"Weeks? It doesn't take that long to get to the North-"

"You're not in the North, child. In fact, you're not even in Westeros. We are on route for Qarth."

Qarth. Sansa's mind was whirring in a way she had never experienced before. This combined with panic as she realised that Torghen had lied to her and had not taken her to her cousin. Remembering Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane's lessons.

"Torghen, he told me he was taking me to my cousin- "

"Nay child, he told you he was taking you to the King."

Sansa remembered now this was indeed the case. But she had asked him about Jon, and he had confirmed he was pressing on the claim.

"But he told me my cousin-"

"Your cousin is pressing on his claim, but he is unaware of the true scale of things. Why my brother did not clarify it to yourself I cannot say and I cannot ask him as he stopped off in Volantis with some of the other passengers. Where are my manners? I'm Mychelah. And this is my daughter Lanna. All I'll say is, you don't need to worry, my Lady. We are very good friends to House Targaryen and through marriage bonds are therefore friends of House Martell and House Stark."

Breathe. That word entered her thoughts now. Closing her eyes and taking a few long, deep breaths until she had calmed down enough that she was no longer shaking. When had she started doing so?

"Mother, shouldn't we tell her the truth? She clearly knows about Jaeron if she's referring to him as her cousin."

How did she know his true name? As far as she was aware the only people who did were her parents and her other siblings bar Rickon due to his age. He was far too young to keep a secret as such. But Torghen knew, and from the words she knew this woman- Mychelah- was his sister. It wasn't too far of a stretch that she found out from him.

"Lanna-"

"Don't Lanna me, mother. I'm sick of this mummers farce. Aye, I've been living it my whole life and I thank you for it because it meant my head was not cracked open like a duck egg solely because of my father's name. And she's kin. Not through blood, but through marriage bonds as you said only seconds ago yourself."

Sansa tried to make sense of the words, trying to read in between the lines but was getting nowhere in doing so. All she did know was that she was no longer King Joffrey's prisoner and she was no longer in Kings Landing. A lingering thought of good riddance appearing. Since she was a little girl she had been told of the wonders of the capital. Of the beautiful buildings and the glorious castle atop Aegon's High Hill, with the remains of the Dragonpit and the Great Sept of Baelor on Rhaenys' and Visenya's Hills respectively. Whilst it was this, she remembered seeing Flea Bottom for moments and the stench was horrific. People quite literally throwing their filth onto the streets and leaving it be to fester. Mychelah sighed deeply and looked at her daughter whom she recognised now as being the one who had walked in to see her awaken before leaving. Black hair falling in long loose curls and bronzed skin which did not match her mothers.

"I'll leave you to explain. Lady Sansa, I will get you a change of clothes and bring you some food. And if it would comfort yourself I can bring some salt and bread."

The redhead nodded lightly before the older left the room and Lanna got up to lock it behind her so it was just them.

"Your sister is safe. She is travelling north. But I'm afraid I do not know about your father. For your sake, I hope he is okay, but I don't know for certainty. It takes weeks to receive correspondence from Westeros in Essos-"

"You know Arya?"

Lanna bit her lip a little at the question.

"It's a bit difficult to explain. Your sister has something that once belonged to me, and through said belonging I can see through it? Perhaps it is best if I just show you."

Confusion appeared again but soon dark brown eyes rolled back to reveal milky white. Most people would be disgusted by this but Bran used to turn his eyelids inside out and chase them, it was nothing new to her.

"When I do this, I can see things. Can feel fresh soil and can smell Westerosi air. It's confusing. I don't know how I can do it or even when I figured out I could do it. But I can assure that Arya is safe. At least, for the time being she is. Last I checked she was speaking with Lord Edric Dayne and Lord Beric Dondarrion."

Those names were familiar to her. She'd had many lessons teaching her of all the main House's there were. The Dondarrion's came from the Stormland's and the Dayne's from Dorne. If stories were true, the Dayne's were the only Dornish House who could claim direct ancestry with the First Men much like the Northerner's could. There was a gentle knock on the door and Lanna opened it to take a tray from her mother and a deep red and black garment which she handed to Sansa before leaving the room to change in peace. It was a rather extravagant dress. A black corseted top with a red lace trimming, golden designs etched so fine she wouldn't have noticed them if she wasn't examining it as close as she was. It was a little large on her but she could always ask for a needle and thread to fix this. She was gifted in the art of sewing as her mother and Septa often said. Lanna came back inside again and she realised now she herself was also wearing a combination of black and red, with hints of yellow and orange too.

"How long have you known about Jaeron?"

The question left her lips before she could think it over, reaching up to cover her mouth as she had promised not to speak about it when she had first been told alongside Robb and Arya. Did Bran and Rickon know by now? Her father said he didn't trust them to keep quiet on it due to their tendency to run their mouths as Septa Mordane put it. Her sister was the same, but he knew she was closest to him and wouldn't go against him in any way, shape, or form.

"Since I was around seven I think? My mother has known since he was nought but a quickening in Princess Lyanna's womb."

It was strange to hear that. Princess Lyanna. By all accounts she had heard in Winterfell her aunt had been wild and definitely had wolfs blood running through her veins. But it was the case, she had wed the Crown Prince.

"As to how I know, that's something else entirely. I'm going to sound mad but if there was a Weirwood or a Sept nearby I would happily swear in the eyes of the gods as testament. Mychelah, whilst I call her mother as she raised me as my own mother died when I was a little girl, but everyone here knows she is not."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lanna."

The older female moved to sit on the bed beside her, knotting her fingers together as if to distract herself from her thoughts. Actions as such reminding Sansa greatly of when the truth came out. Why had she been made aware? And how did Mychelah know before he was even born?

"Mychelah was good friends with my real mother, and my uncle Torghen was fiercely loyal to my father. So much so he chose exile over bending to Robert Baratheon. Not even to go to the Wall, he left Westeros and didn't go back until a year ago when we received word Jaeron was looking for someone who could wield dual swords."

A small voice creeped up inside, practically screaming 'figure out what she is telling you' but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't do so. Still in shock over being lied to, being off the coast of Essos somewhere. All she did know was that they had already passed Volantis. Gods, how long had she been out for? She must've been given a dosage of something so she wouldn't be conscious to question anything.

"Let's just say, like my brother I am glad I was blessed with inheriting my mothers features and not my fathers. And it helped massively having someone so close to my mother with a family link therefore had a tip off on what was going to happen. As a result of this, both myself and one of my brothers was smuggled out too."

The voice got louder and it was only when the final section sank in that the penny dropped. Eyes widening as she turned to her again. The others face turning to stare directly at her. High cheekbones, full lips, incredibly thin nose. Features she had looked at every day for much of her life. The only difference there was, was the bronzed skin she sported which she must've gotten from her mother.

"Princess Rhaenys?"