A Song of Frost & Flame

by Chimaera1201

When Robert's Rebellion broke out, the ancient friend and ally of the Starks, House Tormont offered their oldest daughter to the Lords of the Corridor for their alliance. Powerful and respected, the Taugere family kept the way north safe and at peace for thousands of years. But a less known prophecy may declare if the world will freeze over again, or burn in the fires.

21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21 – THE STRANGER

The northern force held position in Harrenhal for a fortnight, clearing and reinforcing what they could and then the ravens arrived. More devastating news from the north, that the winter keep was set aflame and left in ruin; and that lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun left this world for the next. It was like the world itself had turned dark, and dead. The decision was made for the lords to return to Riverrun for the late lord's funeral, while a force under command of lord Roose Bolton, and half of the strength of the Corridor under command of lords Foch and Reubel along with Haslinger's son, along with the sentinels Colbert, Saerus and Hilfert remained behind until their rulers returned to press on further south. It could have been past noon one cool day when Lord Karstark watched from Robb's side as their men passed, feeling frustrated at the turn of events.

"We're at war. This march is a distraction." he muttered.

"My grandfather's funeral is not a distraction." Robb rejected, watching the banners flutter by.

"We riding to battle at Riverrun?" Rickard asked.

"No." Robb replied,

"Then it's a distraction." the lord determined again.

"My uncle Edmure has his forces garrisoned there, we need his men." Robb explained, hearing the elderly man next to him sigh.

"Unless he's been breeding them, you don't have enough to make a difference." he pointed out.

"Have you lost faith in our cause?" Robb asked with a smirk, and Rickard looked at him.

"If it's revenge, I still got faith in it." he decided, and Robb's eyes met his.

"If you no longer believe-" he started, but the dark eyes remained on him.

"I can believe till it snows in Dorne. Don't change the fact, you've got half the men." he counted their numbers, brought down since their initial march south.

"You don't think we can win?" Robb challenged him, then the eyes went away from him as their attention went back to the passing soldiers.

"May I speak my mind, your grace?" he asked softly, almost timidly.

"Have you not been speaking your mind, lord Karstark?" Robb bit back a laugh, teasing the free-spoken gentleman at his side with a grin.

"I think you lost this war, the day you married her." he indicated the lovely girl, riding her grey mare down the pathway next to lord Tormont and his sons, following the mass of soldiers and finally stopping in a small clearing to rest.

"Until our march continues, my queen." Willmon greeted, and she smiled.

"Thank you for the company, lord Tormont." she returned, and watched them move off before dismounting. When not at her husband's side, she chose to ride with them. She seemed to favour it. Perhaps for their tranquillity, or the lighter atmosphere that hung around them as opposed to many of the other lords who were hard and stern and fierce and gruff, while those under the feline banner had a certain degree of elegance to them. They disappeared around the bend, coming upon the banners from the Goldfields moving down an adjacent road through the trees, led by their lords; but they seemed to settle down on the grounds as soldiers and nobles started to dismount, allowing the horses to graze and drink from a small stream through the foliage. Gerald searched the faces, and then found his brother far to the north of the party, his black warhorse seized by a soldier and led away with others to sate his thirst while the Lord of Flame and the head of his Sentinels claimed seats on stones and logs. He approached them, watching Raeghun claim a loaf of bread from a bag before breaking it in half and handing one piece to his friend. Gerald smiled as he halted his horse next to them.

"There room for one more?" he asked, and Raeghun motioned to an unclaimed stone.

"Help yourself." he allowed, and Gerald dismounted so his own courser could be tended to and sat down on the stone with Raeghun and Berin, entering the discernible sphere of warmth circling them and watched Raeghun break another piece from the loaf of bread, before offering it to him.

"Oh, go ahead. I'm not hungry." he declined politely, just for a moment wondering if his brother whom was a high lord even noticed that he intended to surrender the greatest part of it.

"I'll admit, the field rations are becoming a bit stale, but it will do." Raeghun breathed, bringing the bread to his mouth.

"We might reach the Inn of the Kneeling Man tonight, and make it to Riverrun late tomorrow." Gerald reported, going over the faces of the men trying to enjoy a moment of peace in the woodland. Derric and Edur were conferring with different groups not too far away.

"Your sentinels seem to have some distance from you, lately." he noted, then looked back at Raeghun, wondering why in times of increased danger they would do that.

"That is because, in times of war their roles change. They become my commanders, rather than my personal defence. Each with leadership over their own unit." he explained as Gerald glanced at Berin.

"Except for Berin?" he indicated, and they laughed.

"Except for Berin. For which I am very grateful. He has as much command as me, but because we understand each other so well we stand stronger, and fight better together." Raeghun told, watching his friend beside him. The ultimate defence after all... The trust they had, went deeper than mere friendship, it was brotherhood. Years of lives shared created this kinship, and there was nothing more reassuring than having that confidence in another, and they could face the world with pride and hope. Unexpectedly, the sensation of trickling down Gerald's spine drew his thoughts away, and he looked up at the sky. High white clouds passed over them, but it was severely warm, and he noticed the men opposite from him clothed rather lightly, save for the armour.

"I didn't think it would be so warm here." he mentioned wiping the moisture from his neck, and Raeghun laughed.

"It's not. That's just me; my condition has been overly warm for some time now, and I confess I'm having difficulty bringing it down." he told as Berin stared at him. Also one of the reasons for his heated demeanour, and there was little to be done about it.

"Perhaps some good ale, and a quick soak in water may ease you?" Gerald suggested, rather eager to reach the little indulgence the inn might offer.

"It helps, but it doesn't last long." they watched a party of men passing, laughing as they obviously discussed their plans for the night.

"The gods only know, if I could have my Claira with me, if only for a moment..." he breathed, deeply wishing for her cool hands against his skin, for her frost to smother and still the uncomfortable searing blaze he felt raging in him.

"This will be over soon. With our hold over Harrenhal, we'll see the end of this before too long." Gerald assured, and they nodded. They spent a while in the woods before pressing on, reaching the inn after nightfall and shelters were erected around the grounds for the men, and with limited lodging available inside the structure, many chose the seclusion of their tents. Following the entertainment of the tavern, with a bowl of vegetable stew and bread, songs and stories of grand adventures, most retired, and on their way back to their pavilion Berin paused, looking back at the group of men they saw passing them this afternoon, simple men who were under orders of lord Violet, escorting a girl with them. A young woman from the tavern, dressed in the finest dress they were able to dig up between the rags, and strands of her dark hair coated with a light wax to mimic a white shine. Oh, fuck no...

"Go on, I'll catch up." Berin quickly told his friend, hoping he could dissuade the approaching party before they got themselves killed. He made his way to them, swiftly blocking their way forward, staring at the grinning, drunk faces.

"Don't." the eyes of the first man stared at him, indifferent to his intentions.

"He'll be happy for it." he determined, and Berin's hand found his chest to hold him back.

"Don't!" he warned again, but the soldier shouldered him aside and proceeded with the other two behind him, and the girl following meekly. Oh, fuck no...

"Lord of Flame!" the first man called out, and Raeghun turned to register the men coming up to him.

"I've brought you a gift, to ease your burden." he said, the words heavy and slurred, but Raeghun faced them evenly, perhaps even curiously. Then the man lifted his hand, and looked back.

"Your Lady of Frost." he revealed, bringing the girl forward ungracefully and she stood blandly, staring at Raeghun. An acid sting rushed through him as he watched her, the flames burning and eating away at him. Were they taunting him? But he had to concede, that they tried very hard to give her the appearance of his wife. She forced a smile, but her light green eyes deceived her fear.

"Go back to the inn, girl." he commanded, and she bowed her head before leaving quickly back into the night while the others stared after her.

"Now why'd you do that? It took us-" the first soldier asked, but the sear did not leave his muscles, and his hands clenched to bring the shudder in his fingers under control.

"She won't be able to help me." it was maddening, the rise in his blood becoming overpowering.

"But you might..." he added, the heat increasing to stinging over his senses as he took a step forward. Suddenly Berin appeared at his side, taking hold of his left shoulder.

"Raeghun, come on. Let's go." he told urgently, trying to guide him away.

"Girls ain't your taste in the field?" the soldier laughed, and Berin's fingers pressed into the flesh.

"Not in the least." Raeghun muttered, sending a weal of warmth into Berin's gut. There was one other thing that could calm the blaze, but he'd hoped it would not happen here. Not now. At another time he would have berated them harshly before dismissing their drunkenness... but with his temperament as it was for the past weeks there was no chance of that.

"Raeghun-" but his voice was left to the wind as Raeghun struck forward, his right fist connecting with the inebriated face solidly. The next moments were utter turmoil as his right fist hammered into flesh, again and again and again. There were voices, screaming around him, but it was liberating to release himself. There were hands on him, fighting for a hold and pulling desperately as the fire erupted through him before diminishing, and finally the full strength of five men pulled him away from the body on the ground, barely moving. He breathed heavily, recognising the faces staring at him in complete shock; the faces of Berin, Willmon and Robb beside him as the others rushed back to their friend.

"What happened?" Robb asked, still confused.

"Take him away!" Willmon ordered, and the others lifted the man from the ground, hurrying off to a tent to assess the state of their companion.

"Come." while Robb sought out his wife for any aid she could give, Willmon and Berin started herding Raeghun off to their tents on the far side of the encampment, entering under the shade of the pavilion.

"What happened?" Willmon asked in the safety of the shelter.

"They... I don't know. They were absurdly drunk, they thought they were trying to help, I suppose. In the most insulting way." Berin tried to explain.

"If they thought for an instant, that I would blacken the honour of my house, of my wife, for a night with some fucking tavern wench they were sorely mistaken!" Raeghun declared, taking a clay cup from the small table and flinging it across the space where it shattered against the chest, a dark liquid staining the wood and canvas behind it.

"Raeghun, you need to calm down!" Berin tried, and the burning eyes came to him. The rage had still not left him.

"What would you have done?" he turned, coming back to them.

"What would you have done?!" he demanded again, but even in this fury his friend did not retreat.

"It's over! I believe you've made your point." he said, and then the eyes cleared slightly as Raeghun turned, running a shaking hand through his hair, and he heard him curse.

"It's al right. We'll sort it out." Willmon eased him, when a new face suddenly appeared into the tent. The hard, brown eyes of lord Violet darting between them.

"Did you do this?" he suddenly demanded, and Raeghun faced him.

"You want an apology, go find it from your runts!" he told, not a slightest hint of regret for his actions.

"If anyone was in the wrong, it was your men for challenging my son." Willmon defended.

"These were your people. Your temperament has been ignitable of late, they were trying to help." Florentius said.

"If they wanted to help me, they would have had better luck trying to drown me." Raeghun countered.

"They left their homes on your orders." Florentius mentioned.

"They can return to them, for all I care! And if you insist on questioning my actions, you can find yourself a new one as well." Raeghun determined, and the lord stepped back, seeming to accept the outcome.

"You have the highest regard for integrity, but this might have been overdrawn." he breathed, more cautiously. He understood why, but this was the second time their liege reacted violently towards someone. It was rather out of character for him. Then the rustling of the pavilion canvas covering the entryway caught their attention as Robb and Talisa joined them, seeming morose.

"How is he?" Berin asked, and the lady sighed heavily.

"He's suffered a broken jaw, and some of the worst injuries I've ever seen... He will never fight again." she reported, thinking of the instances that she'd seen damage close to these, caused by hammers, maces and clubs... but never from fists. Florentius stared at Raeghun, the hardness to his eyes renewed.

"If you cannot control yourself-" he started, perhaps intending for it to resemble a threat; but no force of words could compare to the frightening energy.

"Tell your men to control their urges! I don't give half a fuck what they do with themselves, but the next man that provokes me, will die." then Raeghun faced away from them.

"Now get out, all of you!" he ordered, the others departing the shelter away from the crushing heat. Berin walked at Talisa's side next to Robb, wondering what to do. His friend was not ordinarily like this, as a norm he was very reasonable, some would argue more so than his father. But vexed as he was, this change in him was alarming to say the least. And then he looked up.

"Your grace, might I ask you for a favour?" he asked, turning her way as she looked at him.

"Of course." he hoped, this would work.

"Do you have essence of nightshade?" he asked, and she paused as she mentally searched through her wares.

"I might have some left." she thought, and they proceeded to another tent where the King in the North and his queen spent their nights. She took a moment to rummage through her box, and picked a small vial with a light violet liquid, bringing it to him.

"Thank you. Lord Raeghun has always been opposed to the use of medicines, but perhaps a night of decent sleep might be what he really needs." he told, as Robb glanced between them.

"I don't think that he'll take it, then." if he was adverse to the use of aids, why would he suddenly do so now? But Berin smiled.

"Don't worry, I'll get him to drink it." he assured, clasping the small bottle in his hand.

"Remember, no more than three drops." Talisa reminded, and Berin nodded before leaving back to the inn to request another two horns of dark ale. No more than three drops... But his elevated temperature may burn through the substance in a matter of a few hours. He paused in front of the pavilion to add the essence to the ale, and then entered to find his friend on the small chair next to the table, resting his head on his hand, the elbow balanced on the surface of the table.

"I thought you could use one last drink?" Berin offered as he came over, setting the horn on the table in front of him and the burning eyes opened to look at him.

"Thank you." he took the horn, and brought it to his mouth as Berin watched in anticipation; but before drinking he lowered the horn again.

"I'm sorry, Berin..." he muttered, and Berin stared at him.

"Why are you apologising?" he asked, sitting down on the small chair on the opposite side of the table, examining his friend.

"I can't control it, on my own. I can't control the heat..." he breathed, and Berin sighed looking at the horn in his hands. Were they all too stupid to see the obvious reason for that? Why his father was accepting of the northern lord's offer within less than a night? The fire in him burnt warmer and brighter than any other, it made him ireful and he was easily swayed. He needed her to calm it, and she was not here... There just was no other way.

"You protected yourself, and your house. Don't you ever apologise for that, no matter what anyone else thinks." then he smiled.

"I would have done exactly the same as you, and so would many others. Don't feel sorry for it, don't feel guilty for it. The stupidity of others, shouldn't end up as your responsibilities. They should carry the weight of their own actions." he told, and then brought the horn up.

"There is only one difference. I wouldn't have damn near killed the man, because I'm not as strong as you." he tried to joke, hearing his friend sigh.

"If it hadn't been for you, and the others... I would have killed him. And now, because of me, he'll live a life of suffering." he told.

"He should have thought of that before he dragged that poor girl before you. Being from our own lands, he should have known better." he decided while the blue eyes just stared at the horn in his hand.

"Still..." Raeghun whispered as Berin sat back.

"Stop trying to condemn yourself. Now, drink your ale." he urged, waiting as Raeghun sat for a moment before bringing the horn to his mouth and swallowing the dark liquid easily, unaware of the extract added to the rich fluid. Together, they finished the ale and before long, Raeghun seemed to appear listless, and Berin chuckled in relief. It did seem to work, finally.

"Get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow." he urged as he stood, and Raeghun nodded.

"Very well, good night." he greeted, exchanging the seat for the simple bed, and falling asleep quickly, and easily while Berin lingered, deciding to retake his place on the chair. If the essence had the effect he hoped for, he couldn't risk leaving him alone. In the event that anyone entered with ill intent, he wouldn't be able to wake on his own to defend himself. Right now, his pride didn't matter. His position didn't matter. Just for tonight, the head of the sentinels will be the lord of flame's protector, his only defence.

It was raining hard when Milla walked down a long hallway towards the common room, well past noon. She remembered the time they spent in Riverrun after the attack on the road, the Tullys had been very kind to them; and they too grieved the loss of the fine gentleman. She entered the common room, where Claira sat on her favoured chair with Rychon seated on the armrest next to her and Wink on his lap, watching the children trying to teach each other how to dance to a gentle tune, something they often resorted to when confined to the hold. A soft smile settled on her features as she observed them, floating like butterflies on the breeze in the common room, where Bella led her brother Berterin, showing him the steps and Vaellion guided Maynlid easily, although theirs wasn't any identifiable dance. She crossed over the room to resume her own place on her chair, happy for the comfort that this place still offered them as the light and warmth of the hearth covered her, and the rain fell unhindered outside as Bella stopped.

"You have to look at me." she told her brother, looking down.

"If I look at you, I can't see my feet." Berterin replied.

"You're not supposed to see your feet." Bella said, and then he looked up.

"If I can't see my feet, I'll step on yours." he said, and she scoffed.

"That's why I'm teaching you how not to." she reminded, and their hands came up again. She started to guide him, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three... Then he stumbled, his foot catching on the thick carpet.

"Pick up your feet." Bella told, and Milla sniggered softly.

"Feel the movements, Berterin." his mother suggested, and they started to move again. Slowly, step by step following the soft melody from the lute. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three... she started to turn into an arch when Berterin stumbled again, releasing her hands as she sighed. He tried, but didn't have a great love of dancing.

"Rychon, why don't you try?" Claira proposed, and he sighed with a nod handing his pet to the lady of the hold before making his way to Bella.

"Try not to step on my toes." he teased her playfully as he held a hand for her, and she smiled taking it.

"I'll do my best, my lord." she teased back as her right hand rested on his shoulder. They started to move, easily in the space as a serving girl came from the kitchens with a tray holding a plate of fresh crispels and tea, which she placed on the low table before departing again. The song took them in weaves as they smiled, and then a sudden loud crash of thunder from outside made Bella stagger, her weight dropping slightly. Rychon stared at her surprised, she was a far better dancer than he was by any rate, but she blushed as she looked up at him, her fingers tense against him.

"Sorry about that." but he laughed as he helped her steady herself.

"It's al right." the music stopped as one of the guards appeared in the doorway.

"My apologies for interrupting your afternoon, my ladies." then he looked at Falgon against the wall with the lute in his hands.

"One of our scouts have returned." he informed, and Falgon lay the lute down before standing.

"With your permission, your grace. I should receive his report." he said with a formal bow, and she nodded.

"Of course." she allowed, so he left the common room down to the Hall of Fire to find the young man trying to dry himself with a small towel offered by one of the serving girls, drenched through but seeming in fair condition.

"Welcome back, Avery." he greeted, and the runner looked up at him with a smile.

"Thank you, ser. It is good to be back." he breathed, handing the towel back to the girl and ruffling his hair, droplets still released from the damp strands.

"I just came to give my report." he told as the tall sentinel glanced at the great open doors, and the heavy rain outside.

"In the middle of a storm like this?" it was rather odd, he could have gone home and come with his report in the morning when the rain stopped. Unless something was wrong.

"The sooner the better, I think." he insisted, and Falgon sighed.

"Very well. What have you found?" he asked.

"Bristlemane is quiet, nothing appears to be out of place; and the people come and go as every other day. Word is that Lord Vega has remained behind to hold the castle himself, although I haven't seen him. As far as I've heard, his sons have gone south with the rest of the men." he explained, and Falgon nodded, accepting the news. But... it took him weeks to observe the activities of a keep where apparently nothing happened, and then braved a storm to give the information that there was nothing amiss. Or was there?

"You took some time, to gather this?" Falgon asked, and Avery smiled again.

"I was held up on my way back, that's all." he eased, and then looked at the girl still standing next to him.

"I thank you for your service in this. You are free to return to your home." Falgon allowed, watching the scout take a deep breath.

"And thank you, ser. But perhaps I may beg your cook for some warm cider before I head back." he suggested, and she smiled with a nod.

"As you will." Falgon turned, and headed back to the common room. So, there was nothing at fault after all. All the many years spent in the wilderness or in the foreign, mostly among strangers had made him overly cautious, and wary of everything. Perhaps it was time to finally let go of that, and embrace the peace he found here for the past several years. This would last, and he'd see the last days with these people happy and smiling. Until he was reclaimed by the earth, and returned to dust. They spent the remainder of the afternoon in the common room with the children playing on the carpet before being summoned to the feast hall for supper, and then retiring to bed where Bella lay on her bed with a book late into the night, missing her father terribly. The rain hadn't subsided, and she could still hear it showering down on the keep, and she found it difficult to sleep. She looked up at the window, following a flash of silver light through the sky and the sudden loud thunder left her tense. These were the kind of nights she hated, gentle rain and soft rumble sent her off to sleep easily enough, but this... A soft knock at her door startled her again, and she listened for anything from the outside.

"Bella?" she heard her best friend's voice, and stood to meet him. She cautiously opened the door to find Rychon scanning the hallways.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, and he smiled softly.

"No. I'm sorry for waking you." he returned, and she laughed.

"You didn't. I can't sleep." she said, and he breathed out relieved.

"Me neither. Do you want to do something?" he asked, and she smiled. Perhaps some activity might tire her out enough to sleep.

"Sure." she stepped out into the corridor carefully, and started following him down the hallway.

"Where are the guards?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Don't know. They might have retired for the night, because of the rain." he told.

"How did you get out of the wing?" she asked softly, and he glanced back.

"I crept out after Panora fell asleep. And maester Adlyn gave my mother essence, she's asleep right now as well." he replied, and she sniggered softly. Evidently, she wasn't the only one to escape the confines of her chamber at times. They made their way silently up to the common room where Rychon added another few logs to the dying hearth, waiting as the heat of the embers seeped into the wood, and small flames drew their first breaths.

"So, what do you want to do?" she asked as the hearth started emitting light into the chamber.

"We could play a game?" he suggested, and she looked around.

"Like what?" he followed her attention around the room.

"I don't know. Dice? Checkers? Chess? Knucklebones?" she spotted a wood board with small carvings on a table against the wall.

"Let's go with chess, for now." she decided, watching him move to the table to claim the board which he came back with and lay on the carpet, so they sat down on opposite sides.

"Light wood, or dark wood?" he asked, and she stared at the pieces.

"Light, I suppose?" he turned the board around, arranging the light pieces in front of her.

"When you're ready." Rychon smiled at her, and she took a moment to think. Light always moved first, then she took a pawn and moved it two spaces forward. He did the same. She moved a piece, and he moved a piece. Then she moved again, and so did he. She claimed one of his pieces, and he took two of hers. She took two of his, and he took one of hers. She took one of his, and he took three of hers. The night dragged on in the light of the hearth, and the ever pouring rain, the hard crack of thunder breaking her concentration on the game several times, and she ended up in check mate. Three more rounds followed, each with the same outcome.

"I won't win against you, will I?" she sighed, and he laughed softly.

"I'm not really trying, I think you're just tired." he replied, and she looked up at him.

"I am trying." she told, and he shrugged.

"My grandfather is the Grey Tom, maybe understanding strategy is in my blood." he guessed, and she stretched to bring life back to her body while he stood to return the board to its place before returning to help her up. Another strike of thunder made her hands tense suddenly in his, but he smiled.

"Are you al right?" he asked, and she blushed.

"Oh, I'm fine." she assured, and he glanced at the hearth starting to die down.

"You know what? We never finished our dance." he recalled as he looked back at her.

"No we didn't, but we don't have any music now." she agreed, but he raised her hand in his, laying his other on her waist.

"I don't need music." he assured, and her smile brightened, happy for another chance to dance as her hand rested on his shoulder.

"Al right." they started to move again, gently and slowly in the dying light. It was easy to be with her, and he found himself hoping she would remain happy here with them. They stepped and arched, and rounded the chamber; then another thunderous crash made her stumble and her weight rested against him, and his arms held her. No, she didn't stagger. He looked down at her against him, dressed in a blush pink dress.

"What's wrong, Bella?" her hands strained against his chest, and she sighed.

"I don't like the thunder, it's too loud. It scares me..." she confessed, and then looked away.

"I miss my father. He used to sit with me on nights like these, it made me feel safe and I could sleep." she told him, and his arms circled her to comfort her.

"It will be al right. They'll be home soon." he soothed her, and she looked up at him.

"Thank you, for being so understanding." she blushed, and he smiled back. She was sad, because she felt lonely, and scared. He wanted her to be happy... Was there any way he could make her happy again? He saw his parents do something quite often, and they were always smiling. It made them happy. Then he leaned forward, slowly and carefully as he held her, just gently touching her mouth with his. There was nothing, but not because he did not feel anything. It was because nothing else existed, in that moment. Not the warmth of the hearth, not the rain outside, just the softness of her lips against his, and her smell of magnolia blossoms. She pulled back from him, staring at him in silence for a moment as he drew back.

"I'm sorry..." was the only thing he could think of saying at that point, but saw her smile as she started to softly giggle.

"It's... It's al right..." she returned, still blushing and giggling, and he started to laugh with her, their voices soft in the space around them. It felt nice, the tickling of butterfly wings down his back.

"You should both be asleep." a voice startled them, and they looked at the face in the doorway staring at them.

"Wymon..." Rychon breathed, turning his way.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, stepping through the door.

"We were dancing." Bella replied, trying to smother the laughter.

"This time of night?" Wymon asked suspiciously, and Rychon glanced at Bella.

"We couldn't sleep." he explained, and the sentinel sighed.

"Well, then. Best you try to go find it in your beds, rather than here." he suggested, and started herding them down the hallways, ensuring that Rychon entered the lord's wing before escorting Bella back to her bedchamber. Entering through the door, she looked back at him.

"Thank you, Wymon." she said softly, still trying to withhold the giggles.

"Lady Bella, I want to advise that you don't leave your chambers again this late." he told, and she looked down.

"Please don't tell my mother..." she asked, feeling the sting of guilt.

"I won't say anything." he assured with a soft smile, and she looked up to thank him again.

"If you promise me, you won't go out again." he added, and after a moment she nodded.

"Al right, I promise." she agreed, and he bowed his head.

"Good night, my lady." he greeted, and then left back down the halls to complete his patrol of the halls as she returned to her bed and lay down, bringing the sheets over her. Again, she laughed into the pillow, still feeling the warm caress in her stomach. It was like he enveloped her, and she was slowly melting. It was pleasant, and the only reason she pulled away from him was to breathe. She closed her eyes, thinking of that moment before slipping into sleep easily and peacefully, no longer concerned with the heavy rain outside until morning came, still cool and wet but clear. They followed the same routine as every other day, dressing, some play in the garden before breaking their fast in the southern hall, prayer under the weirwood fountain, and their lessons with maester Adlyn while Wink explored one of the cabinets and their mothers tended to the order of the hold and their country; and each time she saw Rychon she felt warm. When he looked at her she smiled, and when he smiled back she strangled another series of giggles.

"Bella?" her attention went to the maester, looking at her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, maester." she quickly replied and he nodded, satisfied with her answer before his attention went back to the boys. They were handling noble houses of the North today.

"House Stark." he continued, and Berterin looked up.

"Winterfell is their seat. Their sigil is a grey direwolf on white. Their words are 'Winter is Coming'." he answered.

"House Karstark." Adlyn proceeded, his attention going to Vaellion.

"Karhold is their seat. Their sigil is a white sun on black. Their words are 'The Sons of Winter'." he answered, and Adlyn smiled.

"Close. Their words are 'The Sun of Winter'." Then he looked at Galeran.

"House Bolton." he proceeded.

"The Dreadfort is their seat. Their sigil is a red man, hanging upside down. Their words are..." he tried, as maester Adlyn laughed again.

"Their sigil is a red Flayed Man, on pink and red. Their words are 'Our Blades are Sharp'." then he looked at Bella.

"House Mormont." he asked.

"Mormont Keep is their seat. Their sigil is a Black Bear on green. Their words are 'Here We Stand'." and then at Rychon with a teasing smile.

"House Tormont." he always gave Rychon that one, and he laughed happily.

"Pale Haven is their seat. Their sigil is a Black Cat leaping over a field of green. Their words are 'Victory is the Red in my Blood'. The current lord is my grandfather, lord Willmon Tormont also known as the Grey Tom. The heir is my uncle, Gerald Tormont also known as the Wild Cat. Long honoured for their strategic accomplishments." he told, always with so much pride.

"My father is known as 'The Crimson Knight." Vaellion added openly, and Rychon glanced at him.

"And mine is 'The Lord of Flame'." he put forth, and Bella leaned forward.

"Maester, why do people sometimes have other names, in addition to their own?" she asked, trying to unravel the tension she felt around her.

"Well, there are many different reasons people may acquire a false name. For their appearance, for their deeds, for their position or for their lineage. Ser Jaime Lannister is also known as 'The Kingslayer', this because he killed king Aerys. His father lord Tywin Lannister is called 'The Great Lion of Lannister'. Ser Duncan the Tall, was as the title implies much taller than the average man, and lord Baelor 'Brightsmile' was indeed a charming man. Brandon the Builder was a great architect, creating some of the most renowned constructions we know, including The Wall, and king Aerys Targaryen subsequently became known as 'The Mad King' as his condition became increasingly unstable nearing the end of his reign." he told, bringing the children's attention to him fully and discarding the previous thoughts.

"King Daeron the Good was loved by his people, and King Aegon the Unworthy was, as the name suggests, not the fairest ruler." he continued, and saw Berterin looking up from the books.

"There were many different kings, once." he mentioned, and Adlyn nodded.

"There were. The Kings of Winter, or also the Kings in the North. Kings of the Vale, the Kings of the Rock, Kings of the Reach, the Storm Kings, the Grey Kings, the River Kings..." he paused for a moment, it was a fact after all.

"And the Ardent Kings, from which house Taugere descends." he heard Rychon chuckle while Vaellion stared at him.

"And the Crimson Kings?" he asked, making the maester sigh.

"There were no Crimson Kings." Rychon said, seeing Vaellion's cheeks flush.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because your grandfather, was my grandfather's bannerman. That's why." he concluded.

"Regardless of the histories, your fathers are as close to brothers as you would find without sharing blood. Remember that, above all else. The relationship of their houses didn't matter to them, and it shouldn't to you. You are a family here." the maester said, silencing them. Then he rested his hands on the wide table around which the children were seated.

"You are free to leave. We will handle the Riverlands tomorrow." he allowed, and they stood to find something else to do.

"Rychon." the young lord stopped, looking back at the maester while the others slowly started down the stairs.

"If I may have your attention, for just a moment longer." Adlyn said as he turned, and Rychon approached him.

"Yes, maester?" the elderly man smiled at him, but his deep brown eyes seemed doleful.

"It is good, that you are proud of your ancestry. But, it should not be used to distinguish yourself from others. Your people must know you, for who you are. Not simply for who your forebears were." he told, and Rychon looked down.

"Al right. I'm sorry, maester. I'll remember that." he promised, and a withered hand lay gently on his shoulder.

"The strength of your father will protect and carry you for a while, and then you must move on with your own. You will determine what that strength will be, and what it means to others." he told, and Rychon looked up at him.

"I know." then the maester smiled.

"Go on. I'll see you tomorrow." Rychon turned, and headed for the door, disappearing down the steps while Adlyn watched him. The path to his future was starting to divide, and more would follow in time. They could only guide him. The way he chose, was his alone... A dart of grey drew his attention, and the maester chuckled softly. The eldest of the children seemed to be distracted today, as he noticed the little ferret hop down the stairs to catch his friend who had stopped at the base of the stairs with Bella.

"I wanted to thank you for last night." she breathed with a soft blush, somehow hoping he might do it again.

"You're welcome. I hope you slept better?" he replied with a smile, and she looked down.

"I did. The rain didn't bother me as much..." all that was left was the warmth, and the gentle flutter of wings in her stomach, that she could feel even now. Then he looked down, his attention drawn to the small creature clambering up his leg to retake his place on his shoulder as he laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget you?" he joked as his finger gently scratched Wink's cheek. Then he looked back at Bella, still with an easy smile.

"Would you mind looking after him for a little while? I want to ask Falgon if we could head out earlier today." he asked, and she stared at him, adequately numb. Did he feel nothing, at all? Was it something so ordinary? She focused on the breath filling her chest, trying to discern what it was she felt right now. Disappointment? Sorrow? Anger... Then she raised her hands.

"Certainly..." she agreed, and Rychon took the ferret from his shoulder handing him gently to her.

"Thank you, Bella. I'll see you later." he told, and then left down the hallway while she was left standing between the arches, struggling to make sense of the circumstances and of herself. Then she sighed, deciding that there was really no point in arguing with herself on the matter, and held Wink up in front of her.

"So, what will we do?" she asked as he stared at her, perhaps trying to understand but not being able to. Then she held him to her shoulder as she started taking the stairway up into the sun tower to the lady's common room.

"You're not a dancer, are you?" she asked, hearing him squeak against her.

"I didn't think so..." the common room would be empty now, but for the time being she wanted to be alone, and that was as good a place as any. She walked and walked, the corridor leading up seeming longer than usual as her thoughts wandered, mostly back to the previous night. Back to the shine of his frost blue eyes in the light of the fire, and to the instant he slowly leaned down, touching her mouth with his. The warmth around them, and the way it seemed the rain outside drowned and faded away in the sensation that held her. She stopped at the window open over the outer bailey, pausing to look at the world outside and leaning on the edge with Wink still against her shoulder. People moved around over the grounds, hauling hay to the stables, carrying crates or rolling barrels from the stores to the kitchen, the guards walking on the walls surrounding the great keep, and a little while later she could make out Rychon heading down the stairs with Falgon following to the stables where they retrieved their horses, and left through the gate to the woodland. They rode into the shelter of the forest, reaching the training grounds where the horses were left to graze and resume the training. As before, Rychon's eyes were covered with the cloth and he proceeded to identify every sound, smell and sense he could before taking his position for his runs. But he moved slower than normal, only just avoiding the harsh impact of the logs swinging across the maze.

"You're distracted." Falgon pointed out as he stood breathing hard at the end of the labyrinth.

"I'll be fine..." he assured and then looked up at the sky, unable to shake the sensations coursing through him. The soft touch, and the sweet smell, the gentle tingling in his gut enough to overpower the burn through his limbs. Was there anyone he could share this with? Had his father only been here... Then he looked at his teacher, where he sat on a nearby stone watching him. Could he talk to him? Would he understand? Perhaps he could try, it was just that...

"I've never seen you with a girl." he started, and the tall sentinel smirked.

"And I don't think you ever will." he replied as Rychon turned towards him.

"You don't like girls?" he asked, coming closer.

"I did. But, I haven't been with a woman in years." Falgon told as the boy stared at him.

"Why?" he asked, and the dark eyes met his.

"Why all the questions?" he asked, searching for a point as Rychon felt the warmth seeping into his cheeks, and he hoped that it was not a sudden flush of red.

"I... I'm just curious." he muttered, then Falgon stood with a soft laugh.

"Well, you recall what curiosity did to the cat." he reminded.

"Or in your case, the kitten." he added as Rychon looked down. Maybe, this wasn't the best.

"Rychon?" he looked up, but the features were soft and understanding, although interested. Rychon smiled softly, he could talk to him and he would not chide him.

"I kissed Bella." he confessed, and the features changed from interest to what may have resembled indifference.

"Oh. You really should talk to your father about such things." he tried to advise, and Rychon looked away from him again.

"My father's not here..." he reminded softly, hearing the sentinel sigh.

"Just a kiss?" he asked, and Rychon nodded.

"I can't get it out of my head. It was so dreamlike, so magical..." he explained before hearing him laugh again

"It's something exciting, something to be treasured." he told, and Rychon could smile.

"What was it like for you, the first time?" he asked, more attentive as he watched the sentinel reclaim his seat.

"You're asking me to recall something, from so long ago... But it was, as you've said, magical." he shared from his past, and Rychon sat down next to him on the stone.

"Who was she?" he saw him watching the woodland, perhaps trying to bring back the face.

"Just some girl, from the fields. It was during a festival, when it was really dark..." he brought it back.

"How old were you?" Falgon looked at him.

"I don't remember. Maybe around your age." he told, and Rychon laughed.

"Protecting your honour will make you a good man. And protecting the honour of your house, all in it, and your lady, is what will make you great." he added, and Rychon nodded.

"I'll remember that. I'll never let them be hurt." he promised, and then Falgon sat back.

"Protecting someone, means more than simply drawing a blade in their defence. Now, go finish your runs, then it's time to go home." he told.

Following the funeral of lord Hoster Tully, allowing time for grief the forces were stationed in and around the castle's grounds while the lords were offered chambers inside the walls. There were still skirmishes with enemy forces, but for the time being and to more than a few people's gratitude no severe battles. But a recent clash had a less than unfavourable outcome, not at all what they hoped for and they were left having to contemplate new and alternative choices while Willmon stood against the wall in a Riverrun hall where he, Robb, the new lord of Riverrun Edmure and ser Brynden were called for counsel.

"If I may, nephew. I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the stone mill. Which may have some bearing upon-" Edmure started, prepared with a report as Robb stood watching the fields through the window.

"Will you shut your mouth about that damned mill? And don't call him 'nephew', he is your king!" Brynden silenced him.

"Robb knows I meant him no disrespect-" he defended, and the elderly man watched him with displeasure as he approached.

"You're lucky, I'm not your king. I wouldn't let you wave your blunders around like a victory flag." he directed, faced with the apparent pride of even a small victory.

"My blunder, sent Tywin's mad dog scurrying back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs. I think king Robb understands we're not going to win this war if he's the only one winning any battles. There's glory enough to go around." he contested, and Robb turned slightly.

"It's not about glory!" he told, and Brynden left to resume his previous position and poured a glass of wine while Robb turned, and walked back to them.

"As per lord Tormont's advice, your instructions were to wait for him to come to you." he reminded, and Edmure raised his hands candidly.

"I seized an opportunity." it was an opportunity, sadly not the one they were in dire need of.

"What value was the mill?" Robb asked, seeming to unnerve the thoughts of the new lord.

"The Mountain was garrisoned across the river from it." he explained.

"Is he there now?" Robb continued to ask, and Edmure smirked. His efforts brought them another victory, after all.

"Of course not. We took the fight to him, he could not withstand us." he told, and Robb stared at him.

"I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west. Into our country where we could surround him, and kill him. I wanted him to chase us. As he would have done because he is a mad dog, without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now." the king explained the plans that they had started to set into place, before this disastrous change forced them into a considerable setback.

"Instead, I have a mill." he added, watching as his uncle suddenly became uneasy, regretful for his instant grab for standing.

"We took hostages. Willem Lannister, Martin Lannister-" he started again, trying to create a level of reassurance for the situation, of which none would be had.

"Willem and Martin Lannister are fourteen years old." Rob recollected.

"Martin is fifteen, I believe." Ser Brynden corrected from his position next to the back table as Robb watched the lord in front of him, becoming increasingly disquieted as Robb took another two steps closer to him.

"Tywin Lannister has my sisters, have I sued for peace?" Robb asked purposefully, watching the eyes in front of him grow darker.

"No." he breathed, and they would not submit so easily.

"Do you think he'll sue for peace because we have his father's brother's great grand sons?" he further asked.

"No..." Edmure said, accepting the outcome. The value of their hostages, weren't near level.

"How many men did you lose?" Robb asked, and he thought for a moment, his mind going to the fallen on the field.

"Two hundred and eight. But, for every man we lost the Lannisters lost-" again he tried to justify it.

"We need our men more than Tywin needs his!" Robb declared, followed by silence as Edmure took an unsteady breath. He acted in haste, and it cost them this...

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." he replied, but the blue eyes watching him remained hard and tainted.

"You would have. Right here today at this gathering, if you had been patient." he told, turning to retake his place at the window.

"We seem to be running short on patience, here." Brynden mentioned as Robb walked to the window, his eyes settling on the encampment around the keep where the remainder of their men awaited further instructions, and the countryside far beyond them.

"You know who isn't? Tywin Lannister..." it seemed to be the one thing they started to lack in this situation, and somehow they would need to recover from it. He leaned against the edge of the window, taking a deep breath that brought with it the murky smell of the deep waters surrounding them, and then looked at Willmon still against the wall a few feet away.

"Lord Tormont, is there any way to remedy this?" he asked, hopeful for something.

"I don't know, your grace." he looked up, his silver-blue eyes set on lord Edmure Tully.

"We'll have to wait, and see what fate gives us. But I confess we are in dire need of arms." he told, and then stepped forward and turning to face the king.

"I would suggest that our forces hold here for another few days before returning to Harrenhal. I'll send my men to scout the heights each night, with instructions not to engage. Perhaps, with any luck, we could use a small force to draw attention; but I highly doubt that ser Gregor will range this far east again after their previous... brush." he proposed, and Robb nodded.

"Very well. Let's see what happens." he agreed, and Willmon left to see to such arrangements. He'd use the runners only until there was progress, but it might be a while before the lion stretched out his claws again. Any resources could be seized in travel, which would be of great use to support their troops, and it might agitate their enemy just enough to come looking for something. A little 'cat-and-mouse' if you will; but only if you could somehow persuade the mouse that it was the cat for a while, until the right moment came and you could close on them. Gerald would remain stationed here, his fervent methods would not be needed right now. For a moment he grinned, only his daughters had inherited the trait of patience from him, and that's what they needed now. He passed into the yard, watching soldiers and boys pass by; some young squires sparred in a corner with training swords while their teacher watched, and he wondered what his Alyssa was doing. It's been far over a year that they've been away from home, and he longed for the gentle cool of the mist. He proceeded to seek out three of his scouts, giving them instructions to round the fields each evening and return with a report of any nearby activities before sunrise before making his way back to the confines of the keep to endure the time they would hold here, awaiting whatever may come. Passing down a corridor, he happened upon Berin coming down from the other way, and he stopped to greet him.

"How is your lord?" he enquired, and Berin sighed.

"He's been better. But it appears that his temperament has settled, somewhat." he reported, thinking back to the night he discreetly added the essence to the ale. He slept well for that evening, and others had elected to restrict their discussions with him to giving their reports and other small advices if they chose not to avoid him entirely.

"Well, we'll stay here for a while. So, keep him company, ensure that he remains as calm as is possible, get the rest that you can. Both of you. Unfortunate as it is, this will get harder before it gets easier, and it won't get easier before we reach our goal." Willmon advised, and Berin nodded.

"Thank you. We will." he said, and they parted ways so Willmon could return to his current purpose while he headed up to the chambers, finding his friend seated on the bed with Quill in his hands, applying gentle strokes to the fine steel with a soft cloth as he oiled the blade, bringing the enchanting glimmer back to the sword.

"I just met lord Willmon, in the hallway." he mentioned as he took a seat on the small chair in front of the window, and the burning eyes met his with a small smile.

"And what is the word?" he asked, his attention going back to the sword as he continued to work.

"He said that we'll be staying in Riverrun for a while, and suggests that you try to rest as much as you can." he told, and Raeghun nodded.

"Al right." he felt calmer now, a night of decent sleep did help more than he thought it would, although he wasn't entirely sure how it happened that he woke exactly the same way he lay down, aware that he changed positions many times during the night, not being able to find a comfortable, cool one.

"Any word from Colbert?" he asked, his eyes coming up as Berin sat back, resting against the edge of the window.

"No. But I don't think you should be worried." he replied, glancing at the world outside. All that was left, was to move forward in any way they could. Even if the surest thing they could hold onto right now, was the hope that they would go home...

Yet another fall day had come, and Rychon followed Falgon and Galeo along the small path on his Nix, happy for the afternoon that felt productive. He'd identified several items with his senses excluding his sight, and finished his runs quickly. He was stronger, faster and surer of what he needed to do, touching the tip of his sword to each target without a single step back, just as he'd been taught. The prospect of facing his teacher in a test, was becoming something that drew him more and more. But, he would need to be much faster than him, as both his size and strength still outweighed his by a far stretch. He had told that it will still be years before he would face him, and it stirred a rough kind of excitement. Fearful, but at the same time eager; if he could best him, or even equal him, there would be nothing known that could stop him. Nothing that could stand against him... He found himself smiling, dreaming of a bright and heroic life for his future, bards will sing of his family line, men high- and low-born will bow, and girls will blush and swoon when he would ask them for a dance.

"Falgon?" the tall sentinel looked back, giving the young lord his attention.

"Do you believe in destiny? That our lives are predetermined by the gods? Maybe things that happen in ten, or twenty years from now, were already decided hundreds of years ago?" he asked, followed by a short silence as his teacher seemed to think, and then saw the tall warrior smile as his eyes faced forward again to lead the way through the trees.

"Of the gods I don't know. But, I think that some of us, if not all, are set, sometimes forced, into situations, places or even times, where we must be for our skills, or wisdoms." he told, and Rychon glanced down.

"You don't believe in anything?" Rychon breathed, recalling that he used the word think instead of believe.

"I used to believe in a god, when I was very young. Certain circumstances made me abandon that faith, and somehow years later I found myself believing again, for a while. Until... Well, faith seems a fickle thing to me." Falgon explained. He had prayed again, once or twice during that desperate time. But, in the end he did not believe that it could have been enough, or that he was deserving of any kindness... No, in the end he accepted that it was their gods, old or new who heard the desperate pleas of her family. Rychon looked up again having examined the words. He said A god... not gods.

"Which god?" he asked curiously. Still so little was known of him, perhaps he could find out more.

"A very old one, long since lost to this world." he heard the sentinel in front of him, and he glanced back again with a small teasing smile.

"But it doesn't matter, any more. I've found better things to believe in, than the lost or the unseen." he added, having watched this family over the years. That was something concrete to believe in. Family, honour, trust, loyalty, love. Those bonds, are and have always been stronger than anything else. Stronger than whatever fanciful deity people could imagine, along with their false promises.

"But whatever you believe, you should keep believing it. People need something to hold on to." Falgon encouraged, and then scanned the wooded area around them. There were shadows, from more than just the trees.

"We should get you home, quickly." he softly urged, and spurred his destrier to an easy trot as Rychon followed. Heading around a small bend, Nix suddenly staggered almost throwing Rychon from the saddle. But with a sharp gasp, and his heart in his throat all his muscles tensed and his fingers mangled into the mane as the poor horse stumbled and finally found decent footing. Falgon had already dismounted from his stallion, his hands securing the reins of the dapple grey gelding to try and calm him, and keep him from bolting.

"It's al right..." Rychon told him, stroking down the powerful neck.

"Are you hurt?" Falgon asked, his free arm stroking down the throat to the chest of the animal.

"I'm fine. Just startled, that's all." Rychon breathed, and watched as Falgon brought up the courser's right front hoof, inspecting for injuries before lowering it to the ground again. There was nothing he could see, like a stone or a thorn he stepped into that would cause discomfort.

"Let him walk." he told, and Rychon urged his horse forward as Falgon watched. There was a definite limp, possibly injuring his leg in the stumble.

"It might be better, to ride with me for now. Let him follow unburdened." he suggested, and Rychon nodded before looking up at something, and Falgon could almost feel the presence pushing against him before looking back to where a stranger stood, smiling. Tall, dark and lean with dark hair, deep grey eyes and a hard, lengthened face. Despite the smile, there was no kindness.

"Valar Morghulis." he greeted taking a step forward, his voice dry and rasping in the forest air, and Falgon faced him evenly, and moved forward deciding he would rather have distance between the stranger and the heir.

"Hen rhinka. Rȳ jēdi, vējes kustikagon morghon." he replied, easily and saw the dark eyes settle on Rychon, still astride his gelding watching them.

"Kostōba valītsos, bisy." he noted, indicating Rychon openly and the expression on the young face changed from intrigue to confusion, and Falgon glanced back at him, also seeing the change before facing the stranger again.

"Issa ñuha tresy. Skoros gaomagon jaelā?" he asked, wishing to end the discussion sooner rather than later, but the stranger spared several glances between them, doubtlessly comparing the likeness.

"Ziry daoriot vestragon hae ao." he said, but Falgon smiled.

"Mazēza tolī muña." Rychon watched the men as they spoke, the conversation lasting several moments longer before the stranger cast him a final glance, still with a smile and then turned and left back into the forest while Falgon stood, waiting for him to be well away before returning and having Rychon exchange his Nix's saddle for the pommel of Galeo's before tying the rope leash to the saddle like before, and mounting so they could further make their way back to the burning mountain. Returning to the main road that led to the great castle, Rychon looked up at Falgon, whom had been silent since the brief encounter.

"What did he say to you?" he asked curiously, having never heard the language before, and the dark eyes met his.

"It's Valyrian. An old greeting, used primarily throughout Essos." he calmly explained as Rychon stared at him.

"And what did you tell him?" he asked again, noting that the sentinel could manage a smile.

"I told him that I wasn't from Essos." he replied, and Rychon smirked.

"Then, how do you know their language?" he asked, making the man behind him laugh.

"I learnt it, during my time in the east." he said, and Rychon thought of asking him to teach him as well, then he brought back the features that oddly made him think of a crow. Even the way he walked forward, resembled the curious caution of the black birds.

"Who was he?" Rychon asked, and Falgon's eyes went back to the approaching gate of Mount Ardor.

"Just a hunter. Asked if I knew any good inns, told him if he went north-east he'd find the Honeysuckle." he told, and then signalled for the gates to be shut as they passed through under the heavy iron bars, which struck the earth with an audible thud, that caused the ground to shudder under its weight as the stable boys came to tend to the horses, stars already visible in a deep purple sky and the fires of Mount Ardor lighting the grounds.

"See that Nix's right front leg is covered." Falgon instructed untying the leash from the saddle, and handing it to one of the boys, who nodded before leading the limping steed to the stables for brushing and his food. Falgon returned to help Rychon from the saddle, placing him securely on the ground.

"We won't be leaving Mount Ardor again until the war is over. But will continue whatever training we can here." he suddenly told, and Rychon stared at him in confusion.

"Why?" he asked, not sure why his teacher was suddenly hesitant as he watched him bring the reins forward over the horse's head to surrender them to the other waiting stable boy.

"Because it will be safer." he simply stated, and the confusion quickly faded away into disappointment.

"But, Falgon-" he started fervently, hoping he might be able to persuade him otherwise, but the dark eyes suddenly met him sharply, silencing him instantly.

"It won't last forever. Please, try to understand." he told softly, and Rychon's shoulders dropped in defeat, knowing nothing will alter his decision. But then felt the strong hand of his mentor on his shoulder, easy and compassionate.

"Once your father returns, and the lands are at peace we will go out again. We might even be able to take him along." he finally said said with a gentle smile.

"Al right." Rychon agreed, but still he wondered what the stranger told him that would make him change so suddenly. Perhaps there was a wild boar in the woods? Or a lion? Maybe a party of bandits? But it was unlikely that something like that would deter this formidable man so much, that he would prefer seclusion to the hold.

"Go on in, I'll just be a moment longer." he urged, and Rychon nodded before turning and making his way into the hold while Falgon remained behind, glancing back at the gatehouse and the fields far beyond. That stranger, was not a hunter; and he seemed highly interested in the young liege as he kept looking at him. His change of subject was suggestive of him accepting his explanation, but he would rather not take the chance that he did not, and would remain here until the realms settled again. Then he turned and followed the youngster's shadow into the keep, where they would attempt to wait out the days that remained until otherwise.

Robb stood staring at two small bodies, carefully laid before him on a blanket, away from the cold stone floor, his wife kneeling next to them in disbelief for what happened. Every vein in him burnt in anger, frustration, disappointment, a degree of sorrow... perhaps even hate. Enemies maybe, but no threat to them. They were children, boys of fourteen and fifteen, violently and ungracefully stripped from this world. Cruel, brutal, wrong... an injustice no matter how you looked at it. Then his eyes went up to the men standing at the door, awaiting his instructions while his counsel, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Willmon Tormont, Raeghun Taugere, Berin Trentin and his mother Catelyn Stark, seated on a small divan behind him waited for the trail to start.

"Bring them in." he ordered, and Brynden turned to open the door, and moments later lord Rickard Karstark was led inside with four others following, stripped of his armour and colours, all of their wrists bound in chains.

"Is that all of them?" Robb asked, and the soldier at the back nodded before the king's attention went back to the men facing him.

"It took five of you to murder two unarmed squires?" he asked, but the hard dark eyes of lord Karstark stared back at him, not a slight of regret.

"Not 'murder', your grace. Vengeance." he corrected the king purposefully, he had a right on their lives.

"Vengeance? Those boys didn't kill your sons. I saw Harrion die on the battlefield, and Torrhen-" Robb started, but before he would make his point the proud lord would make his.

"Was strangled by the Kingslayer! They were his kin-" He justified as he looked down at the lifeless bodies. It didn't matter who they were. He had a claim on them who was named Lannister, for the murder of his beloved sons. He had-

"They were boys!" Robb silenced him, and then he looked up, finally the reality came to him in the instant flash of rue for his actions. They were innocent of any wrongdoing... They were children...

"Look at them." he ordered, and the dark eyes darted in lady Catelyn's direction.

"Tell your mother to look at them. She killed them as much as I." This wasn't just him. It was her responsibility. If she hadn't freed their enemy, this would not have happened. He should not carry this alone.

"My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason." the king directed, making the dark eyes harden once more. He would not admit, that he had committed a crime!

"It's treason to free your enemies! In war you kill your enemies, did your father not teach you that, boy?" he reminded harshly, and in a moment of anger for his disrespect a hard fist struck his left cheek, sending him down on his knee as Ser Brynden Tully slowly drew back; but Robb relented.

"Leave him." he told, then the dark eyes came up to the man who had lay him low before the king with a leering smile.

"Aye, leave me to the king. He wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That's how he deals with treason." lord Karstark taunted, rising to his feet to face their ruler.

"Our King in the North... Or should I call him 'The King who Lost the North'?" his words came deliberately, seeped through with blood from his broken mouth, bitterness and hurtful venom. The King in the North, was then left with little or no choices.

"Escort lord Karstark to the dungeon. Hang the rest." he instructed, while the traitors were led away to receive their punishment and the hard eyes remained on him. Black, acrid... hateful...

"Mercy, sire! I didn't kill anyone, I only watched for the guards!" one of the men cried desperately, and the soldier restraining him looked at Robb.

"This one was only the watcher." he informed courteously.

"Hang him last so he can watch the others die." Robb dismissed them without another thought, and they continued to drag the men away.

"Please! Please, no! They made me do it! They made me!" were the last words that would be heard from the halls before the voices disappeared beyond the thick wood door. Edmure approached the table where Robb sat down, resting against the back of the chair with his hand settled on the flat surface as he mulled fruitlessly over the situation.

"Word of this cannot leave Riverrun. They were Tywin Lannister's nephews, the Lannisters pay their debts. They never stop talking about it-" he started to explain, fearing the outcome and the severe retaliation this may force from the west.

"Would you make me a liar, as well as a murderer?" Robb suddenly asked, looking up at his uncle. In spite of being from the enemy, it was cruel. It is an injustice to bring your wrath however dire on the shoulders of children for the sins of their father, let alone those of a family member they barely knew.

"You wouldn't be lying. You will bury them and remain silent. Till the war is done." Edmure redirected the thoughts, but the blue eyes remained sullen.

"I'm not fighting for justice, if I don't serve justice to murderers in my ranks. No matter how high-born." he reminded them, bringing back what they set out for from their homes nearly a year and a half ago. What they crossed the border into the unknown for.

"He has to die." he decided, not seeing any alternate outcome for the actions.

"The Karstarks are Northmen. They won't forgive the killing of their lord." his mother, lady Catelyn cautioned him as she stood from the divan and came forward to face him.

"Your mother's right. If you do this, the Karstarks will abandon you." his wife, Talisa cautioned further in turn.

"You've tended to their wounds. You brought them supper. Now they're dead..." Robb breathed, just not being able to tear his thoughts away from the event. Why? Why this? Why did this need to happen? Why..?

"And more boys will keep dying until this war is over! You need Karstark men to end it." she told him, feeling grief for the lives lost, but for those still to come in the days following which will be far more before this was over.

"Spare his life, keep him as a hostage." lady Catelyn advised, wishing to keep the support of one of their strongest vassals.

"A hostage. Tell the Karstarks that as long as they remain loyal, he will not be harmed." Edmure agreed with Catelyn, acknowledging the fact that they needed every sword hand and shield arm that they had, their force already diminished by at least half and little hope of rising their numbers sufficiently in any short amount of time. They watched Robb as he thought in silence, before looking up at them.

"Leave me. I need to think..." he finally said, the lords and ladies of his counsel leaving the hall without words until the only remaining was his wife who stood staring at him. She wanted to tell him, that this was not his fault. That justice will come to those wronged, in whichever way the gods deemed it, but the hard glare of his blue eyes stayed her words and she took her leave from the hall as well, slowly closing the door to the quiet of the halls. Then she looked to her left, down the long corridor where two tall dark haired men vanished back to their chambers to wait out the remainder of the day and the long night.

"This is most unfortunate..." Berin breathed.

"Jaime Lannister strangled his son, it's true. But to kill two boys, simply because they happened to share his family name... That's unfortunate?" Raeghun replied, and Berin looked at him.

"It shouldn't have happened. But if lord Karstark-" he started before the burning eyes met his.

"They were children! Berin, they were just a couple of years older than our very own. It doesn't matter who they were or where they came from, it was barbaric." he told, but the calm in the green eyes soothed the burn of his.

"I understand. But this, hard as it is, is not for us to judge. We may curse and reject it, but the punishment is determined by their king. Death is fitting of course, under the crime. But not the circumstances." Berin said, and Raeghun glanced away from him. Had it been him, he might have condemned the murderer in that very moment. But, the others were correct; they needed the strength that the Karstark force still gave them. Without it, they might as well abandon this campaign and return to their homes until winter was done, and maybe beyond that.

"Let us hope, he makes the right decision then." he muttered, heading into a chamber where they shared each other's company while the sun settled into the clouded west, passing discussions while the world darkened and night came, along with heavy clouds. Together they wondered what was happening back home, whether the children continued their training and became stronger? How much their skills would have improved by the time they returned? If any of them might have exciting stories to share? How many new experiences they'd faced? Perhaps a new pet? Before too long, it might be time to start considering suitors? To keep to their own lands, or encourage alliances with the north? And how dearly, they missed their loves... It was well into the night, and already raining when a knock to the door drew their attention, and the timid face of a young soldier appeared.

"My pardon for disturbing you, my lords." he entered, sparing a glance between the fearsome Lion Hunter, and his companion The Crimson Knight.

"What is it?" Raeghun asked, wondering if something might be wrong.

"His grace has requested your attendance in the hall." the young soldier spoke softly. A small lie, it was more a demand than a request, but he'd rather not invoke the Lord of Flame's wrath like the man who had his face bludgeoned like fresh clay. He watched the men, motionless on the seats as their eyes met. Perhaps I forgot to say 'please'..?

"What the hell does he want me for?" he asked, sitting back as his eyes met those of the young guard, to whose relief the lord sounded more amused than annoyed.

"His grace did not say, my lord." he replied, and Berin grinned.

"Perhaps he wants to send us back to Harrenhal." he assumed, watching Raeghun rise to his feet.

"Splendid..." he breathed, and followed the young soldier from the room and down the passage back to the hall, and the guard stopped at the door.

"Go and rest. I can find my way around." Raeghun told the guard, who nodded and then proceeded further down the passage away from the hall while the Lord of Flame drew a steady breath, and then entered the hall, closing the door behind him. The young king was still seated at the table, just as he was this afternoon; and he approached.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, bringing the stricken eyes up to him in silence as they stared at each other for a moment, and the king claimed a breath for his own.

"I need help." he finally told softly, and again the lord came forward.

"I'm not sure how I could give that to you." he said, shaking his head as Robb remained staring at him, the eyes searching for a way, an answer, an outcome.

"Yours is the closest to king's blood there is. You are the closest to a ruler, I have in my company..." he reminded, but Raeghun smirked.

"You have your uncle, as well." he told back, watching the youngster smile but still feeling defeated.

"I love my uncle, but his decisions have been questionable at the least, lately." Robb said, lowering his hand to rest on the table.

"Then your mother? Or your wife?" Raeghun further added.

"I value their advices, but..." he paused. What is it you want from me, then? Then Robb sighed heavily.

"What would you do?" he finally asked, and Raeghun took the seat next to his.

"You've already decided. And most likely, I would do the same as you." Raeghun said, resting against the back of the chair.

"Had it been me, I would have judged him with death and take his head with the next sunrise." he said, seeming to bring ease to the king.

"But, before we crossed the border an enemy scout was captured, and you released him; saying that your father understood mercy, honour and courage. Perhaps, stay your hand for now." he advised, seeing Robb slowly shake his head.

"The men won't continue to follow me, if I can't make fair judgements when it is needed, regardless of the position of those who committed the crime. If they see me as weak, why should they have any respect for me? Throughout the histories, the greatest rulers were the harsh ones, demanding respect by fear." he thought back to the many lessons, but Raeghun smiled.

"A good ruler, does not always require a hand of Iron. People who follow you because they choose to do so, do it willingly. And will continue to do so, whether it be into the shadow of death or the face of madness." Raeghun explained, thinking back.

"My father was a harsh man, it's true. He was unyielding in nature, many times unmerciful to those who had wronged and had decisive methods. But everyone loved him, because he would do everything he was able to, to help another whether they be a noble or a farmer. I am not as he was, but I try my best many times asking myself how I believe he would have responded to a situation." he told while Robb stared at him, taking in the ardent blue eyes.

"And did that help you?" Robb asked, hopeful and almost amused.

"Often, I would find myself acting in opposition to what I think he would have done." he smiled.

"Why?" Robb seemed confused of the contrast.

"Because I cannot make my father's decisions, and shouldn't need to. Those choices, are mine and must be made to the best of my judgement. As must you." he told, and then sighed.

"I will be of little use to you, these are not my countrymen, my people. You cannot judge them the way I would. The better option for you, may not be to ask me for what I would do under the same conditions, but to ask yourself what your father would have done. But, consider the circumstances we find ourselves in. As king, you reserve the right to withhold your judgement for now." he added, hoping that he could have given something to the youngster. Then saw Robb nod slowly, staring at the table in front of him before returning his light eyes to the lord without a word.

"Try to get some rest tonight." Reaghun said as he stood, preparing to return to the chamber he'd been given.

"Our roads, are harder than most. But, we need not walk them alone." Raeghun comforted, and then issued a small bow before leaving, departing the great hall in silence and heading back to the room where Berin was still waiting for him, looking up from the table with a small smile as he entered the room.

"Are we moving?" he asked, rather eager. Perhaps wishing to escape the confines of stone walls.

"Not yet." Raeghun replied, retaking his seat opposite from his friend.

"That's a pity." Berin sighed, stretching to alleviate his muscles.

"What did he want?" he asked as he sat forward, and Raeghun sighed.

"Advice. Which unfortunately I could not give, to any certain degree. The decision of what to do remains his, though I just hope, he makes the best choice." Raeghun said, glancing at the great sword leaning against the wall, which itself had taken countless lives over the history, and a fair count of heads by his own hand.

"Well then, I suppose morning will bring us that answer." Berin said, looking down at the floor of the chamber.

"I trust so..." Raeghun looked back at him, aware that it was close to midnight if not beyond, and still raining.

"Get some sleep. When we march again, we won't be allowed that luxury, most like." he told, watching as his friend laughed and then rose to his feet to find his own room.

"As you command. Good night, Raeghun." he greeted,

"And you, Berin." he returned, sparing a few moments more in the silence of the chamber and the slowly approaching darkness as the candles started to wane. And in the dark quiet, he offered a prayer to their gods to watch over them, to grant them strength and courage, to still their hearts and comfort their battered, lonely spirits... and to deliver them safely home to their loves before relinquishing the chair for the bed. Morning brought grey, angry skies of rain and thunder along with the King's decision. Much to the dismay of his advisers, he had elected to adhere to his initial judgement of the crime, and had orders given that the prosecution will duly come to completion later that afternoon; and even the pleading of his mother would not sway him. The afternoon would bring darker clouds, and darker stares from those summoned to the inner yard where Riverrun banners hung, surrounded by soldiers to witness the King in the North's justice, where under the shelter of a castle bower their maester, lady Catelyn Stark, queen Talisa Stark, lord Edmure Tully and Ser Brynden Tully stood watching while inside the castle hall, lord Willmon Tormont, Gerald Tormont, lord Raeghun Taugere and lord Berin Trentin waited back, watching. Moments later, lord Rickard Karstark was escorted past them, the black eyes taking them in coldly. But there was no fear. No regret. No guilt. They watched as the soldiers led him out into the rain, taking their places behind him where he finally stood facing a stone block, exposed to the weeping clouds as Robb approached him, and he calmly looked up unmindful of the cold droplets soaking into his hair, beard and garments.

"The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as much as it does yours, boy. I fought the Mad King for your father, I fought Joffrey for you. We are kin, Stark and Karstark..." he told him calmly, but the anger remained. He could not rule with affection and compassion alone, there must be harshness as well.

"That didn't stop you from betraying me, and it won't save you now." Robb solemnly replied, but the lord stared at him, emotionless and proud.

"I don't want it to save me. I want it to haunt you to the end of your days." he breathed as the hard blue eyes glared back.

"Kneel, my lord." he ordered, and with a final deep breath the elderly gentleman lowered himself to his knees, and proceeded to lay his chest on the stone block as Robb took his place, taking the sword from his side and holding in in front of him, his hands resting on the pommel while the tip rested on the stones by his feet.

"Rickard Karstark, lord of Karhold. Here in sight of gods and men, I sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?" he judged and sentenced him, and one last time the dark eyes came up to meet his.

"Kill me and be cursed! You are no king of mine!" he declared blatantly, before lowering his eyes and waiting for the blow. Robb lifted the sword, and with a cry both enraged and woeful brought the blade down hard and precisely severing the head from the body with a single strike while the others stared, silent and beaten. The King threw the sword down clenching his fists, again enraged, frustrated and hateful before stepping away and making his way back to the shelter while the body was taken by soldiers, to be carried away. Raeghun still watched from beyond the stones of the keep, there would be no support from this.

"This was ill-considered..." he heard Berin beside him, and sighed in agreement.

"But still his decision." then he glanced down the hallway, where lord Willmon spoke softly with a young runner, still dripping from the rain. With his attention on the dire event in the yard, he'd barely noticed the boy appear in the passage, or the lord move away from them. The discussion seemed of urgent nature, and he moved away from the wall to enquire on the events, only hearing the last words.

"Barely three day's ride from here." the scout reported, and he met them in the hall.

"What happened?" the eyes came to him, light brown but clear.

"We've found a unit of Lefford soldiers, my lord. A supply train and new recruits, heading west slowly." he repeated the report.

"How many men?" Raeghun asked, and the scout seemed to calculate the number quickly from sight.

"Two hundred, maybe three at the very most." he told, and Raeghun looked back at Berin calling to him. This may be an opportunity to rouse the enemy, and to slip away from the crushing pressure of the river keep. Berin joined them, eager for his command.

"Gather two hundred men, have them mounted within an hour. We ride immediately." he commanded, but then felt a hand on his shoulder as he looked back at silver-blue eyes.

"We don't know enough, yet." he cautioned, but was met with a smile.

"We'll go in, relinquish them of their burden and come back. It should prompt a response." he replied calmly, but the stare behind the eyes gave more than simply attentiveness.

"Don't be rash. It's raining, besides." his father continued to heed, but he glanced at Berin with a nod and he moved off with the scout following to gather the soldiers.

"We won't be careless." he assured, but still the eyes remained on him. There was something, that was near to pleading.

"Don't leave today, please. Please, wait just one more day." he softly begged, but it did little to deter the Lord of Flame.

"Please." he tried one more time, and the warm hand found the lean withered fingers on his shoulder.

"We'll come back. My other lords, along with Derric and Edur with their units will remain here under your charge." he promised, and then left down the hallway to retrieve his own sword before meeting their soldiers in front of the stables as Willmon stared after him. What would one more day do? Why didn't he send someone else? Whether he left today, or tomorrow or even in the following week would make only slight differences, but still... it felt grim, wrong and perilous. Raeghun was a true warrior, tested and undefeated all would agree. But there was a voice, pestering, nagging; clawing at his mind, telling him... Don't let him go... Shortly after, two hundred soldiers gathered in front of the stables mounting their steeds despite the downpour, and Raeghun claimed his massive black destrier with Berin astride his dun charger at his right side, but again Willmon tried to persuade him otherwise.

"Raeghun, my son. No one contests your bravery, or your resolve. But please, reconsider. Just one day, or at the very least until the rain clears." he beseeched him, still with the words Don't let him go... But the ardent eyes met his, gentle and sure with a smile.

"We'll meet back here in a couple of days." he said, and then his horse moved forward heading for the gate with Berin following, and then came the rest of the soldiers, first a walk, then a trot and finally an easy canter under the gates and into the lands to the west, under the surge of the persistent storm. For two days their presence remained discreet, and in the deep of night before they would meet the enemy they took shelter in the woodland, preparing to strike at the group with the break of dawn before withdrawing swiftly. Their onslaught must be just enough to summon interest back to the east, and to avoid killing all of the soldiers if they found that possible. The order was given for the men to be mounted before sunrise, when they would move again. Raeghun lay on his bedroll, thinking of his wife and son. Not a single day had passed that he did not think of them, but it seemed that it was never quite as it was now. He could see them clearly in his mind, so much more vividly than ever before, like they were standing right in front of him. Their black hair, his wife with her wisps of white. Their frost blue eyes, his son's burning just as much as his own. Their smiles, their laughs, the cold of her gentle hands and the heat from his happy embraces. Then he closed his eyes, I love you both, my dear Rychon and my sweet Claira... I will see you again, soon... Sleep took him then for a while before he woke to a still black sky, but the silence suggested that the men had not started to move yet. But he rose, and dressed himself, donning his armour and then sat down on a small crate, waiting for the dawn to come. Still he thought, his mind reluctant to leave the images that stayed with him throughout the night, and he wished could stay longer. But soon, there was stirring around him, voices, the brush of armour and the shuffle of boots and hooves. But he waited until the horizon started to change colour, although he could not see. Then he stood, and emerged from his small shelter to the waiting faces of his two hundred men, and he walked forward passing all of them until he found his horse, held ready for him by one of the men. He mounted, again watching all of them, those who followed him willingly, even eagerly. Then he met the eyes of his best friend, his brother, there right beside him. Where he'd always been... Then he smiled.

"Let's go pull on the lion's tail." then he turned his horse, starting to lead the men further over the field and up a small hill, where the enemy camp lay just beyond as the sky started to take on a shade of grey under the remnants of clouds. They held position on the height, watching the activities far below where it seemed to be simple and oblivious. Then he glanced at a soldier to his side, known among the men as Jevan the Jackal.

"Jevan, draw their attention." he told, and the scrawny man smiled broadly, quite resembling a laughing jackal.

"With pleasure, milord." he brought a warhorn from the saddle bag behind him, placing it to his mouth and releasing a long dismal howl over the fields into the horizon; which suddenly had the men of the camp scampering around to find a weapon, or a shield while their commander could be seen stammering from his tent, with a girl following and vanishing into the disarray of the camp. He was a big, heavy man with a balding head. He called for his horse, and attempted to get the soldiers into some kind of formation; but they were inexperienced, inelegant and undisciplined.

"Time to see how much these boys have learnt." Raeghun pulled his great sword from its sheath tied to his destrier's saddle, raising it into the air, followed by a chorus of powerful battle cries which sounded like one man, and thousands, clearly disheartening those facing them. Then they started down the hillside in a slow solid line before the force suddenly spread out, surrounding the confused enemy group like the wings of a phoenix closing around its prey. Thoughtless of those staring down at the clash from the shadows to their south, concealed by the darkness of the trees on the hillside where two men stood, one with a smile and the other looking up at the taller, darker figure.

"You are foolish, brother. To think that the brightest of the phoenix flames will fall in a battle as petty as this one." the smaller, hunched over little man scoffed as he watched the unfolding skirmish, the blades of dismounted soldiers meeting while some chose to flee, and riderless horses running each way. In the midst of it all, the bright and burning lord against the commander of this feeble force.

"But still... Fate has been threaded. We must do our part in all." the tall figure shrouded entirely in black finally sighed heavily, the misty white eyes of his companion still staring up at him in vain.

"Is there no other way?" he asked, almost sadly as the taller man looked down to meet his.

"I am afraid not." he told softly, and the little man looked back down to the field.

"This is cruel, and unjust." he tried, but the taller remained indifferent.

"You grow too fond of your elements. We have little use for cruelty, or compassion, or justice. Events must be set, for any fortune." the little man sighed, still dismayed.

"You forget, Opposer. We were human once, too." he tried to remind, but without any outcome.

"You were..." the tallest said then he walked away, making his way calmly and easily down the hillside towards the clash where more and more chose flight rather than fight. Berin looked up, taking in the sight around him, suddenly feeling the stinging revolt as reality struck him in the sight of his friend several feet away, warding off his awkward attackers. Somehow, and for the first time in years, they had gotten separated. No... I have to get to him... the mad urge forced him forward, through blades as he cut through an opponent. I have to get to him! He struggled onward, but strangely the distance did not lessen. Then his eyes settled on a figure moving across the battle field... One that did not belong there. A tall man, simply robed entirely in black with a thick wood staff held in his left hand that no one else seemed to notice as he simply walked forward, no haste, no anxiety, no fear, no caution, nothing. Only sure footsteps as he pressed on, heedless of the battle raging around him as men were cut down, screaming and running in all directions... even closely by him with no thought for him. But an almost painful desperation burnt in his chest as he watched the figure move forward, utterly unaffected by the clash surrounding him, his attention fixed solidly on lord Raeghun Taugere of Mount Ardor. No! I have to get to him! He ducked under another blade, bringing his own up and through the arm of a soldier, leaving him behind as he bound forward, calling out to him. Two more soldiers blocked his path, and he fought his way through them, desperate to reach his liege. He called again, the dreadful emotion coursing through him like boiling acid through his veins as he watched the black figure close the distance purposefully, like death itself had come for him... I have to get to him! The arm raised up, reaching forward as a lean hand with long bony fingers protruded from the wide sleeve of the black robe, the skin an awful deathly blue-grey.

"Raeghun!" his voice pierced the sky as he forced forward, but it was drowned by the screams and calling men around him; his body ablaze in frustration and fear for his friend. His brother...

"Raeghun!" he cut through a soldier, the desperation burning beneath his feet; then watched in nothing less than horror as Raeghun looked up into the face of the black robe. No! No, I have to get to him! He struggled forth with just a few more feet separating them as he saw the black figure come to a calm stop in front of his friend, and the hand gently glided over his shoulder, and took a solid hold. NO! The shadow of a soldier passed in front of him, and suddenly they were gone. Vanished like they were never there, and only the lord's sword remained where it stood in the ground.

"Raeghun!" He looked around, but there was no sight of them, anywhere... His hand slid around the grip of the great sword, it was still warm from the lord's hand. Where is he? He looked around, at running soldiers and bodies lying on the ground, forcing breaths into his ravaged lungs as his eyes searched the field. Where is he? Where the-fuck is he? He searched, scanning every face he could see friend and foe, fleeing and pursuing as his heart beat relentlessly in his chest and mind, the acid of devastation and desperation burning through every limb.

"RAEGHUN!" but there was nothing...

It was in the depth of night when Falgon sat in front of the hearth, paging through a book. For days, they were confined to the keep, and Rychon tried his best to improve himself against his friends, for whatever it was worth always with the same outcome, but to a clear frustration of which he made no secret. All the children were slower than he was, save for Bella. But where she was faster, he proved stronger and overpowered her easily. It was difficult he knew, and he felt for the boy; the labyrinth had its own way of calming him but for now, it was safer to remain here where he could watch over all of them. In the interim, he taught Rychon some Valyrian words. Not a lot, it would be quite a while before he would be able to attempt a full conversation, but it was enough to get by. Greetings, and references, and directions, and needs should he ever find himself in the foreign. But that too, would be rather implausible... and yet, he had gone east himself when he never thought he would see those shores let alone the lands beyond them. Footsteps drew his attention, and he glanced up to see a serving girl coming up to his side, a tall horn held in her hands.

"I've brought you some sweet mead, ser." she offered as he recognised her, the same girl that offered a hand to the runner a while ago. This late..? But rather than seem ill-mannered, he took it from her gently.

"Thank you." she lingered a moment longer, like she was wondering but then smiled and issued a small curtsy.

"Sleep well, ser." she greeted, and then turned to leave.

"Good night." he returned, watching as she slipped from the hall to return to her own chamber. Then he brought the horn to his mouth, allowing the golden liquid to flow easily into his mouth before swallowing. Sweet mead, indeed. Overly sweet. Was it old? No, it couldn't have been. Mead from the Corridor was the freshest you'd have at any given time. Then he started to feel light headed, finding it extremely strange. He hadn't gotten drunk since his twenties, and from a single horn? The dizziness quickly intensified to a vile tingling across his body, and he started to feel lethargic, his sight becoming clouded. Suddenly he realized with a shock, what this was. Sweet mead, crudely defiled. That was it, Sweetsleep... Avery waited in their hovel, watching his wife prepare bread dough to be placed into their tiny little stone oven before daybreak; and the smiling stranger dressed in simple rough spun breeches and old soiled boots, with a stained tunic under a hard leather jerkin. A belt with a single dagger fastened around his waist sitting opposite from him who'd taken up a room with them for a few nights. 'Just a rest from his travels.' was his reason, but this man was there to keep an eye on his Lilly, so he would not take unwanted risks. Knowing that Falgon would never fall to any kind of attempt with a weapon, the strangers persuaded him to use a more discreet method; and he hoped that the poison will take its effect quickly so he could carry out his instructions and they could disappear from these lands. Perhaps head down to Maidenpool to her cousin, or try to start anew in Stoney Sept as the strangers promised to get them there safely after all was done. Come the morn, the bells of the sentry towers may be tolled, followed by the announcement that the greatest and strongest of their sentinels was dead. There will be discord and chaos for a limited time, and that was when they needed to strike. To take the lord's son or his wife, or both from their keep with a compelling lure, or having the gates ordered open to the strangers disguised as messengers from the lord and let them complete their mission. I never thought that it would ever come to this... He adored the noble family, the spirited heir, the lovely lady and their proud lord. But his choices were limited, and to protect his own family...

"He's kicking!" Lilly suddenly exclaimed excitedly with a smile as her hand pressed on the left side of her stomach, and Avery stood to join her as the stranger opposite from him laughed.

"He'll be a runner, that one. Just like his father." he predicted, his pale blue eyes settled on Avery. He was different from Rook. Slightly shorter and hardier, a mane of chestnut hair, the stern square face of a smith more than an assassin... but he did seem friendlier, introducing himself as Byrgos and Lilly seemed to enjoy him. He even helped fix the broken rafters earlier this afternoon. She laughed again as Avery's hand joined hers on the curve, and felt a definite nudge.

"Maybe he'll be a smith, or a mason. Perhaps, one day, he might be one of the lord's sentinels." Avery said, placing his mouth to his wife's cheek. To protect them, where I couldn't... he thought miserably before looking back at Byrgos.

"Where are you going from here?" he asked, trying to make a point of it, but the big man simply smiled.

"Not sure, yet. Looking for a place to set up shop, and hopefully soon. Been travelling for years, think I've had quite enough of that." he said,

"You don't have a family to return to?" Avery asked.

"No, my wife died in childbirth and my daughter from fever few years later. There ain't nothing for me." and Lilly's face suddenly lit up.

"You could take up with the smith in Garde's Post?" she suggested, and Avery looked at her.

"Lilly-" he started, but she was kind and only nearing her twentieth year; not knowing who it was that shared their home.

"He'd be happy for the help, I know he will." she insisted, and he brought her hands up to his mouth.

"Go to bed. I'll finish up here." he urged as her green eyes came to his.

"You sure?" he forced a smile.

"Yes. You need your rest." then he kissed her, and watched as she disappeared into their small back room. Then he looked back at the stranger at the table.

"I don't like the stories you're telling her." he mumbled, still met with the smile.

"It ain't stories. It's all true, save for a twist or two." he insisted as Avery proceeded to roll the bread dough in neat balls to be stored.

"My wife was a midwife, and a curer. There was nothing that my Jessa's hands could not mend. Her crime? Kindness. She was accused of being a witch, and hanged for her skills. My daughter, taken by a shadow in the night, I found her half-eaten body in the sparse woods the next day. I drowned my rage in steel. So, tell me boy. Which story you'd rather have your Lilly hear?" he asked, and the runner thought in silence. It was sad, and it was hard. He didn't want to think about it.

"I will not break the heart of a young mother, it does not bode well for the babe. And if you want your son to be a lord's sentinel, he ought to have a strong heart." he finished, sitting back against the chair.

"I'm sorry..." Avery finally whispered, placing the dough into three clay bowls and covering them with linens so they may rise overnight.

"Thank you. But your sympathy is wasted on me." Byrgos said, looking out the window.

"Go, keep your Lilly warm. It's going to be a cold night." he told, and Avery finished his work with the bread before slipping into their little back room, and joining his wife while their guest remained where he was. Morning came, to an unexpected silence. Then another, still in queer stillness. And another, when the quiet became more worrisome than strange as Avery stared at the great sunstone keep. There's nothing... not a single word. Did I miss something? Or did they dispose of the body and keep quiet, as not to create alarm? Then the big form of the man appeared next to him.

"It's past time, boy." he told, and Avery nodded.

"I know. It's strange..." he agreed.

"Then you'd best go find out." Byrgos insisted, and reluctantly Avery moved towards the castle. As normal, he stood on the great bridge waving at the sentry above who recognised him. The gate was opened so he may enter, and closed again behind him. The castle grounds seemed eerily still, the guards moving about, two or three with dogs at their sides, the stable boys tending to the horses and the castle hands going about their business hauling barrels and crates to the kitchens and back. No one seemed troubled, or anxious or mournful... He proceeded inside to the Hall of Fire, where Renko and Gavin followed the children to the southern hall, likely on their way to the garden. He could see lady Milla in the feast hall, having preparations made for their morning, and lady Claira emerged from the small kitchen door with Wymon in her shadow. She was the only one that seemed... grim. Then he turned to his right, heading into the barracks where he found the sentinel's chair empty, the books still stacked on the table as so many times before. What happened? Then he continued out into the inner bailey where master Austinus oversaw the training of the guards, bows and swords and fists and he cautiously approached him.

"Good morning, ser." he greeted, scanning the yard as the old master turned to him.

"Good morning." he returned, the bright hazel eyes examining him.

"Where is ser Falgon?" he tentatively asked, hoping for a decent answer but the elderly man shrugged.

"Don't know. Haven't seen him in three days." he reported, stunning the runner for a moment.

"Three days..." he looked back at the doors heading inside the hold. What happened? Where is he?

"Isn't he with lady Claira?" he asked again, wanting a better answer.

"Not that I know of." the master-at-arms said again, but the responses were too vague to decide anything for sure.

"Has nothing been said?" he pried, and the look on the elderly man's face changed to something he wasn't very sure of. Confusion, perhaps?

"Haven't heard anything." he continued, but still it was not enough.

"You're not worried?" and then the eyes did change again, not confusion. He knew that look, had seen it many times, and he mentally slapped himself for going too far. In a place where he felt secure and protected, he had forgotten the simplest rules of his training. Gather with your eyes more than your mouth.

"Should I be?" the master asked, and Avery smiled at him to ease that look of sudden mistrust.

"No. No, of course not." he ensured, and then stepped back, deciding to seek out the serving girl.

"I'll leave you to your duties, ser." he excused himself before returning into the hold, and asking around; finding the serving girl in the eastern wing where she replaced an empty water pitcher in Bella's room. Discreetly, he took her by the arm and led her away to a dark, silent corner of the long hall.

"What happened? Did you give it to him?" he whispered in the shadow.

"I did, just as you asked. The next morning when I went down, he was gone." she told.

"And nothing was said?" he further asked, and she too only shrugged.

"No. He was just gone. What was it you gave me?" she asked, and he turned.

"It's not important." he replied curtly, and then headed off. He spent the rest of the day in the hold, listening for any tales or rumours, of which very little would be heard. But one thing was certain, the tall warrior was gone. I have to do something, now. I cannot wait any longer... he decided as it started to grow dark, the sun only just having vanished over the blue horizon. It has to be now... he met a guard on the great staircase on his way up into the hold.

"Would you please be so kind as to ask lady Claira, if she will meet with me in the Hollow?" he asked, and the guard nodded.

"Certainly." he agreed, and Avery forced another smile.

"Alone, if I may? I have received word from lord Raeghun." he added, and the guard examined him for an instant seeming puzzled. But he asked no questions.

"Very well." he moved up the stairway to deliver his message as Avery watched. How am I going to do this? Then he thought of his dear wife. My sweet Lilly, please forgive me... A short while later, the guard returned.

"Our lady waits for you in the Hollow, as asked." he informed, and the runner gathered up his strength and courage as he sauntered up to the great rounded council chamber where he found her in front of the window, staring out over the fields, dressed in deep ocean blue. Alone, as he asked and he approached her.

"Greetings, my lady." he stepped forward carefully, and she turned towards him.

"Good evening, Avery." her frost blue eyes searched him.

"What word of my husband?" she asked, and he drew in a breath that seemed denser than those before. What do I say?

"He... They're safe. And planning to return home." he said, and then looked down at his feet.

"However, he has asked..." Asked what? What would make her leave..? Then a darkness seemed to settle over him, and a coldness crept up his back. He turned, meeting Falgon of the Fire Hall's dark sharp eyes, the shadow of cold becoming a frightful shiver.

"You shouldn't be here... You shouldn't-" he started, completely stunned as much as he was amazed.

"What was it that you planned to do, after poisoning me?" the sentinel asked deliberately, and under the torturous mass of the shadow over him, and the staring eyes that seemed to cut into him, deeper with each breath he took, the runner broke.

"You shouldn't..." he said again, barely noticing the lady in blue moving away to stand behind her sentinel.

"Bring in the girl." Falgon suddenly ordered, and two guards escorted the serving girl who helped him into the chamber, her eyes wide and afraid. There was no way to escape this, no way to undo it, no way to evade it; and so he confessed. The girl was innocent, unaware of the substance. He was given instructions from the foreigners to kill the greatest of the sentinels, and they handed him a tiny bottle no larger than the first two joints of a man's finger, something easily concealed. It was filled with small granules that resembled sand, which he gave to the girl only with the instruction that it was to be added to something that would be consumed. With their strongest dead, they assumed that the castle will be left in disarray for a short time, and would give them the time and distractions needed to seize the lady and her son. He found himself telling him everything, and strangely for his actions the great warrior listened intently without scorn before finally sighing as the scout finished. The serving girl was allowed to leave, and a moment later master Austinus entered with Lilly at his side. Visibly shaken, but unharmed as she stared at him with her arms clutched around herself.

"Avery..." his name was a whisper, but there was nothing else to be said as his attention returned to the mass looming over him.

"Had you come to me directly with this information, we could have attempted a counter." Falgon told, and it was true but that thought never occurred until this moment.

"I was afraid..." Avery finally said as he looked up at the dark eyes.

"I was afraid of what they would do to my family. But can you ser, who neither knows nor feels fear, understand that?" he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice from quivering. But the features remained emotionless, no anger nor anything else.

"I won't make you give me reasons, why you brought danger to this house above protecting your wife. But, in all views, you betrayed them and cannot be allowed to live." he decided, glancing at the guards behind him who moved forward to escort the scout to the vaults. He did not resist them, but followed along poorly, and then he turned to the young girl next to Austinus.

"You will remain in the castle, until I know more." he told, and she looked up at him sadly.

"Will my husband and I share a cell?" she asked, but then he smiled at her.

"You are a guest here, and with child besides. You will have every fitting comfort." he assured, and she looked down to hide the tears that escaped her eyes. She'd heard of him many times, and everything was true. He was hard, unyielding and terrifying, but not without kindness.

"May I see him? Please?" she begged softly as he turned.

"You may." he allowed, and master Austinus left with her, seeing that a passing handmaiden was assigned to her side for the time being. Falgon sighed, cursing himself. Had he not sent the boy out in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. This was his fault... He was to blame... Then a hand rested on his arm, and he looked down into his queen's blue eyes.

"Falgon, don't kill him. Please." she too begged him, and perhaps that may be better.

"When your lord husband returns, he will decide his fate." he relented, and felt pressure from the fingers on his arms.

"Thank you. You should go see maester Adlyn." she again urged, and he faced her fully.

"There is really no need, your grace. I am perfectly well." he assured, but her eyes remained on him.

"Please? Just to make sure." she tried again, and he slowly nodded.

"As you bid. But only to present the vial to him." he finally agreed, glancing at the tiny little bottle in the palm of his hand. That which held the grains.

"Good." she breathed, and he bowed before leaving the Hollow for the maester's tower while Wymon assumed his place, and finally her heart could settle slightly. When she found Falgon just past midnight three nights ago, intending to request another song for her sleepless night, he was anaemic, and in a fright she nearly raised the alarm until he took her hand in his, assuring her that there was no need and that the poison will fade soon. She sat there with him, until he returned to how he was. Calmly then, he explained what was needed and that he could not be seen; but if it could be so his absence must not be made an announcement. It was difficult, but he promised that he would never be far from her. He kept his promise... Then she looked at Wymon.

"Shall we?" she sighed, and he bowed his head.

"At your leisure, my lady." he agreed, and followed her down to the southern hall while their tallest made his way up the winding stairs, relieved that the men he'd sent was able to retrieve the scout's wife without any harm coming to her. Thankfully, one of their finest guardsmen, and Marron of the Strings whom was their very best archer was all that was needed, since there was only one man. Their best archer, because the stranger did not surrender easily... he entered the chamber to find the maester at his desk.

"Good evening, maester." he called for the old man's attention whom looked up at him.

"Good evening, ser. Come in, how may I help?" he asked, waving the sentinel closer and he approached.

"I have no ailments, maester. I simply came to give you this." he extended his arm, handing the small vial to the maester, who took it and brought it closer for a better look. He opened the cap and smelled, the sweet odour still clung to the jar.

"Sweetsleep..." then he looked up at the sentinel.

"How did you-" he started, and the sentinel smirked.

"It was used on me, as fortune would have it." he explained, and the maester stood with a shock.

"When?" he asked, near to horrified.

"Three days ago." Falgon added, and the maester motioned to the chair next to the hearth.

"Sit down." he told, but the warrior laughed.

"There is really no need." he tried, but the maester took hold of his arm.

"Sit down, boy!" he commanded, and the sentinel took a seat as the maester examined him. This was a kind poison, but deadly still. It clung to flesh, but the warrior displayed no more afflictions than he did over ten years ago... not even a day of ageing that he could tell of... Slowly, he sat down on the other chair, unable to comprehend it.

"How are you even still alive? It's like you weren't affected by it." he breathed.

"I was affected by it. I just couldn't die from it." Falgon told as maester Adlyn stared at him.

"This type of poison-" he wanted to explain, but he was met with the easy smile of their strongest.

"There are certain conditions you must take into account for poisoning, is there not? I am far greater than most men, the substance was not effective due to my size. That is all." he said, and then stood.

"If you'd kindly pardon me, maester. My duties have been neglected for far too long." he excused as he bowed, and then vanished from the maester's chamber as the old man was left staring after him for a long moment. Certain conditions, indeed... Then he looked back at the bottle still held in his hand... This should have killed an ox...

Willmon stood staring out of the wide window of the Riverrun hall, across the river, across the fields and to the horizon far beyond. The sudden vanishing of the Karstark men left their force meagre, and all but blunted. Also, there was still no word from Harrenhal. Yet, hope remained as they now waited for conveyors from the Frey's of the Twins, summoned here on his grace's behest. But now, it has been more than a week since his son's party rode through the gate under the pouring rain, and he promised to return. He should have sent someone else, he should have sent Gerald in his stead or even sent the Wild Cat with him. You're being ridiculous! He snapped at himself, but still he could not rid himself of the notion that all, was not as it should have been.

"Lord Tormont." he looked back at the doorway, from where lord Edmure approached him.

"Is everything al right, my lord?" he asked, and Willmon stepped away from the window.

"My son and his men should have been back by now." he breathed, and Edmure smiled softly trying to offer some comfort.

"I'm sure they'll be back soon." he told, but still the dark sensation clung to him insistently.

"If they're not back by noon tomorrow, I'll go out to find them myself." he decided, still staring out over the fields and Edmure shared his view through the window.

"I believe you're being overcautious. Lord Raeghun is a splendid fighter, and he has his finest sentinel with him." then he sighed, placing a hand on Willmon's shoulder.

"But, if you find it necessary I will go with you to search for them." he told, seeing only a subtle change in the anxious eyes and a small draw to the mouth as the Grey Tom glanced at him.

"Thank you, my lord." then his face went back to the window, and another sudden change. Every sense sharpened, and the silver-blue eyes grew hard and focused as Edmure glanced through the window again, noting a group of approaching soldiers. It was them, but something was wrong. Together they hurried to the great doors, emerging into the yard where Berin entered under the gates, mounted on the liege's black steed and the lord's sword sheathed in front of his left knee, leading back a count of one hundred and twelve men. But he seemed dazed and confused, pale and worn, restless and exhausted as he looked around the yard, taking in each and every face staring back at them before meeting the eyes of lord Willmon Tormont, who suddenly felt the painful burn of ice striking through him. No... No! NO! He moved forward. But no words would form, his voice would not melt enough to speak. There were others around them, ordering the wounded to be tended to and the horses to be stabled while in silence Berin dismounted, for a moment seeming to stagger before Willmon's hand steadied him.

"Where is Raeghun?" he asked softly, and then the deep green eyes met his. Clouded, confused, agonised, close enough to mimic death.

"Get them inside!" Edmure's voice surrounded them, and somehow they were led or guided back to the stone hall of Riverrun, and Gerald retrieved the lord's great sword from the saddle of the warhorse. Berin was made to sit down on a chair near the burning hearth, but either he heard no question or was mute to answer. Word of the returning men, and those who didn't spread quickly through the halls, and shortly later Robb entered the hall with his mother and wife following, staring at Berin still seated on the chair with a goblet of wine forced into his unsteady hands by the Riverrun maester, possibly infused with a drop of Nightshade, and the Tormonts to his left next to a table, Quill laying on the flat surface, and the Tully's to his right wondering how to mediate the situation. Robb moved slowly forward, lowering in front of the Crimson Knight meeting his eyes that stared blankly at the stones beneath his feet. Clearly, he was broken and inconsolable.

"Lord Berin, what happened?" he asked directly, taking hold of his shoulder to slightly push him up, and the deep green eyes met his suddenly.

"I... I don't know. I was there... and I couldn't do anything..." he breathed, his voice convulsive and ragged.

"Someone... He was taken... They've taken him..." he tried to explain as he sat back, while Robb still stared at him.

"Who did?" he asked, and Berin's eyes lowered again.

"I don't know. I... I couldn't see..." he said, running a still shaking hand through his hair as he looked down. Robb thought, perhaps if he could point out their colours, their sigil, anything identifying.

"Berin-" he started, and suddenly the man in front of him rose to his feet.

"I don't know who took him! They weren't wearing colours, they didn't carry any sigils... He was unarmed, unarmoured... Just..." he started, making his way to the window and looking out, like he was still searching.

"Just black... Robed entirely in black..." that was the only memory of the stranger he could recall. The deep dark blackness...

"There is no house that exists entirely of black, except the Night's Watch." Robb tried to think, glancing at his great uncle for any help who shrugged, not being able to bring up any black house within the kingdoms. Then Berin turned around again, facing the King in the North.

"You should have taken more men." Edmure advised.

"We could have taken the entire fucking army, and it wouldn't have made the slightest fucking difference!" Berin exclaimed, the devastation coming back all over again.

"It was one man! Only one! And he was intent on only one thing, and that was Raeghun. Like the rest of the world didn't exist, to him or others." he recollected, having watched the man in black move unnoticed by other soldiers without so much as a glance at him, or a thought for them.

"No one else saw him?" Robb again asked, and then had to watch as the gallant lord sank down resting on the ledge of the great window.

"No..." he was the only one, he had to be. They searched for days, but found nothing. Not a single trace. The others looked at one another, sharing glances and confused stares but no words. Someone of entirely black, no armour, no weapons, completely unnoticed or unseen by others... It was unbelievable, false on so many degrees... but true elsewise this was a terrible dream.

"I have to take his sword back to Mount Ardor." Berin finally said, forcing himself to his feet. But ser Brynden stepped forward.

"Send it with-" he started to advise, but the deep eyes met his, hard and unbendable.

"It has to be me. I can't send anyone else..." he silenced him, unintentionally harshly followed by a short silence as he forced some degree of calmness to his stricken being.

"It has to be me..." he insisted. It was his duty, there was no other way. His charge was the safety of the liege lord, and he failed. It cut deeper than any blade could, and it would be less painful to rip his heart from his chest. What could he do? How would he explain this to the lady of Mount Ardor? She would hate him. For this betrayal, she could have him hanged or beheaded; but there was no other choice.

"I ride for the Corridor immediately." he decided, looking at the blade on the table.

"Wait for the next sunrise, at least." Gerald advised, but he shook his head bitterly.

"The sooner I leave, the sooner I see this through. I'll take a handful of men with me back to the burning mountain including lord Rames and lord Violet, while Derric and Edur along with their men will remain under your charge, lord Tormont. Have a raven sent to the keep with the next moon, and I will return with as much strength as I can have replenished." he told, and then retrieved the great sword from the table, staring at the hilt. The grip was still warm... He made his way down to the yard again after wrapping the sword in the lord's black cloak to conceal it, giving his orders and assembling the few soldiers, lords and their attendants that would take the road back with him before remounting the lord's black destrier once more. To his discreet gratitude, no one attempted to dissuade him again. As he turned the horse towards the gate, Robb approached him once more looking up.

"Please give lady Claira my wishes. And please tell her, we will spare no efforts to help find her husband." he told with true compassion for the devastation that struck them, and Berin nodded thankfully.

"Thank you, your grace." then he looked back at those waiting on him.

"We ride north!" he called, and then they set out. First a walk, then a trot, and then an easy canter away from the river keep, and the remaining lords retreated back into the hold, finding lord Tormont still in the hall where he stayed, staring over the country and the departing shadows from the window, equally distraught.

"Father?" Rhegard asked, carefully taking a place next to him.

"It felt wrong. I shouldn't have let him go. I should have stopped him. I should have sent someone else. I should have done something..." he started, the words fading away as Rhegard stared at him.

"There was no way you could have known. This wasn't an enemy we know." he tried to console, but nothing would change it.

"I shouldn't have let him go..." he breathed again. It wasn't just the feeling, the sense of dread, the lingering darkness that seemed to stay. But those words continued to claw at him, Don't let him go...