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.

22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22 – THE WARD

The Wild Cat walked down the long passage towards the Riverrun hall where the King in the North awaited the visitors from the two towers, who had arrived earlier this morning and were now following him at their own leisurely pace; but he did not mind waiting for them as he listened to their slow shuffling footsteps. His father Willmon had remained in his chamber for the time being, and only appeared when necessary. He'd taken the loss of lord Raeghun very hard, and it had left him visibly placid and withdrawn, and despite their best efforts there was little that brought him any kind of comfort... He had blamed himself for it ever since lord Berin had returned, and long after he'd left but still. Many had accepted that he was slain, but without any proof others had assumed he was taken by an enemy but they had yet to receive any demands... from anyone. He looked up, blinking in the light that spilled through the wide windows. A house entirely of black, and no sigil that could be distinguished. They listened for any word, rumour, whisper or fanciful story. But none were heard, save for the heroic encounters since before his disappearance. Men had continued to search, but there was nothing. Gerald stopped at the door, turning back to watch the two Freys amble up to him, and he issued a small smile.

"Would you be so kind as to wait just a moment, I will announce your arrival." he asked, and the two men glanced at one another before the eldest looked back at him with a nod before attempting to rectify his garments. This one was called Black Walder, and he wore an old and faded doublet over a browning tunic, the rustic towers embroidered on his breast, and for just a moment Gerald wondered how old the threads holding the towers up on the fabric were. For a house that was said to be wealthy to a fair degree, they certainly did not display much of it. He turned away from them, knocking on the door before entering the great hall where king Robb, his mother lady Catelyn, his uncle lord Edmure and great uncle ser Brynden sat waiting at the wide table. At the base of the short stairway he bowed to them before straightening again, his tall shadow falling across the far wall.

"Your guests from the Twins have arrived to meet with you, your grace." he announced, and Robb nodded.

"Thank you, lord Gerald. You may show them in." the King in the North replied, and Gerald returned to the door to allow the messengers to enter. He watched them slowly saunter to the table where they took their seats, and then duly closed the door where he remained. Thinking, and listening. It always gets harder, before it gets easier...

"Thank you for riding here so quickly. I know travel isn't easy in these times." he heard Robb's voice from inside.

"The roads are crawling with cut-throats and bandits. But when the King in the North summons us, we come." one of the Frey brothers assured. It sounded like the younger one, named Lothar.

"Our father's instructed us to tell you, that his alliance with the North can continue. If his terms are met. Lord Frey requires a formal apology, for your violation of your sacred oath to marry one of his daughters." Walder continued, starting the negotiations without further pause.

"Of course, he deserves as much. I was in the wrong." Robb agreed easily.

"As restitution for this betrayal, he demands Harrenhal, and all its attendant lands." Lothar added, and then he heard Edmure's voice.

"I don't think that is-" but he was quickly silenced by the voice of the king.

"We are fighting for the North, Harrenhal is not in the North." he seemed to remind him.

"It is his. Once the war is over, and we have no further strategic need for it." Robb further promised.

"And there is something else." Black Walder continued, having to make Gerald smirk. There was always something else, be it put forth directly or otherwise.

"We will do whatever we can to give lord Frey what he needs." Robb assured, his full intent to amend for the mistakes he'd made.

"Not 'what'. Who." Walder's voice sounded softly, followed by a short silence from inside. Yes, of course. That would always be one of his plays...

"What?" Edmure's voice came forth. And who better, than the lord of Riverrun? Gerald thought, remembering a raven received by the White Hold many, many years ago where lord Walder Frey offered a selection of his offspring to the Tormonts as well, sons and daughters both. He'd have bonds with the entirety of Westeros if he could, he certainly had enough children for it...

"No." Edmure refused instantly, however it did not deter the visitors. He recalled that time, it was the day the young lord Eddard Stark came to them, with the rise of Robert's Rebellion.

"Our father requires lord Edmure to wed one of his daughters. Roslin." Lothar put forth. It was a cool day in the mist that constantly covered their home, the hands of the old gods that concealed their home, protecting it from everyone.

"How old is she?" Edmure asked. They had been children, playing in the gods grove amidst the clean smells of nature, running around the wide trunk of their ancient weirwood with its calm, majestic face and their father watching, and laughing. His hair was still dark then, but fiercely peppered with the silver grey.

"Nineteen." Lothar answered candidly. At that time, he was a boy of thirteen, his sister Claira and brother Rhegard around eight and nine, barely a year apart. Little Carissa had just turned four, or five. He couldn't even remember, precisely; but she was barely more than a babe.

"Could I see her first?" the river lord asked, whether this was a slight or an amusement to the visitors, he couldn't quite tell. No one ever knew what the Tormont children looked like, save for the stories from the few that visited, that told of their black hair and blue eyes. Fair skinned, the girls lovely and the boys charismatic.

"You want to count her teeth? We depart for the Twins in the morning. We need an answer before we leave, and the wedding not more than a fortnight thereafter or this alliance is at an end." Why am I remembering this? Why now? When it was so long ago? It's irrelevant... He told himself, trying to shove the thoughts away.

"Your father does realize we're in the middle of a war?" Ser Brynden's voice rose from inside.

"Father, is old. It would put his heart at peace, if he could see her wed to a good husband." Lothar's voice told calmly.

"And his recent experience has made him wary of long engagements." Black Walder added, intentionally hinting at the king who had broken his promise.

"He has every right to be." Robb had to agree with them, and Gerald brought back something that Raeghun had mentioned, quite a few times. A man's worth, is as good as his word... Had more men shared that, there would be less treasons and more progress. Or perhaps the other way around? But he would not believe it.

"Please excuse us while we discuss it." Robb requested calmly, and he could hear the soft shuffle of chairs and feet. A moment later he opened the door to allow the visitors to depart the Riverrun hall, so the matter may be discussed quietly. He watched as they cumbersomely hauled themselves up the steps, the younger of the two struggling with an unhelpful leg, and when they finally joined him back in the passage continued to lead them to a different hall where the pages and castle hands could tend to their needs before departing to find his brother, Rhegard who was in the stables brushing his big brown destrier. He and Claira shared that trait, it was something they fell to when they felt troubled.

"Any news?" Gerald asked as he rounded the barrel to the side of the stall.

"Nothing. Not a single, damned word." he breathed miserably as Gerald sat down on a square stack of hay. He'd thought of taking his men and heading out again, spend some days in the fields but ser Brynden had recently advised him against it, preferring to hold the force together. Also, which way would they go? Where would they start? Who would they go to? Why would those in the field, spare any whisper to help them? In all likelihood there was no one who knew what happened. Berin had said, he was the only one to see the man, no one else did. And even after asking around, it was apparent that no one else spied the shadow in black, or could bring up anything remotely related. The closest anyone could associate with his description, was Dondarrion who was not their enemy, and the Night's Watch, which was no good either. Not in the least...

"How is father doing?" Rhegard asked, not looking away from his hand stroking down his Incus's pelt.

"It's sad to say, but not well. He has kept blaming himself for what happened." Gerald reported.

"There was no way he could have known. No way anyone could have known. One would expect something like that occurring in a full onslaught, at worst. Not some meagre stab at a small enemy unit, not like that... not like this... This wasn't supposed to happen! It was wrong, unbelievably wrong. And Claira..." then he looked at his brother, the warm tears only just creating a soft blush on his cheeks, hidden under a stubble of black beard.

"She'll be devastated..." he murmured, and he knew it was true. As soon as Berin would have to tell her that Raeghun was lost, she would break. Shatter, like ice.

"I should have gone with him, back to Mount Ardor." Rhegard breathed, returning his attention to his horse; but Gerald forced some courage to himself.

"She'll be al right, Rhegard. She's stronger than you think. And Milla is there, with her." he reminded, hoping that her friend's strength will bring her ease and comfort. He was fond of Milla, the wilful girl who was spirited, and strong in her own way. She was their lady mother's ward for some years before she returned home to Citrine Arch shortly after Claira's wedding. And two years later, she joined them again at the burning mountain. She'd follow Claira around, it seemed. And was always there to offer her hands, or shoulders...

"Will it be enough?" Rhegard asked, stroking down his horse's ribs.

"Fuck, I hope so..." Gerald said, hoping it would be so. There was no Hand of Mercy this time. But perhaps, for some miracle they could still pray.

"I should go see him. Hear if he needs anything." he decided, rising from the hay and returning inside, down the long halls to a small chamber where The Grey Tom sat on a chair facing the world outside, his silver hair catching the light spilling from the window as he stared out towards the fields and beyond. His eyes scanning the landscape, ever searching but never finding.

"Can I get you anything?" Gerald asked, closing the door behind him.

"I shouldn't have let him go..." he continued, still.

"Father-" Gerald started.

"'Four sons. For all, whom I would do the same as you.' I told lord Karstark then. But whom do I direct my rage at now? Whom do I demand vengeance of? Four sons... do I only have three now?" he asked, looking up at Gerald.

"No. You have four. There is no proof that Raeghun is dead." he assured.

"If I knew where to start, I would go look for him myself." he told as Gerald sat down on the soft bed.

"Small parties have not stopped searching, but nothing has been found. At some point, whoever has him will send their demands, either to us or to Claira. Right now, with nothing else, that is the best we can hope for." Gerald said, and saw his father nod in accord.

"I pray that it will be soon. The uncertainty is mangling my mind, as much as I need it..." he sighed, looking back at the window and Gerald shared his view of the outside where black clouds lay on the horizon. Berin should reach Mount Ardor in another few days...

Claira came down the incline from the lord's wing, dressed in flowing magenta purple which may have been a touch closer to red than purple, adorned with a pearl centre piece, white lace to the fitted sleeves and gold threading across the bodice while her hair hung loose from a single jewelled pin down her shoulders and back; with Falgon in her shadow, feeling warmer and slightly happier than she'd been for months. For what seemed to be the first time, she slept through the night with a sweet dream after taking a warm cup of tea with two drops of the essence of Nightshade. She'd stood on their balcony watching the stars as she'd done so many times before, believing he was staring back before retiring to bed, lying awake for a while as the candle light dwindled and waned, and her conciousness faded with it. Then she felt soft pressure next to her on the bed, or she thought she did. Looking up, a shadow hung above her of which she could not see the face clearly, but for the ardent eyes looking at her in the soft light and she smiled at him as his name sounded through the chamber in a soft whisper. Her lord had come, to offer himself to her; and again he was slow and gentle and loving until he just held her in his powerful arms, surrounding her with the warmth that gave her blissful and unbroken sleep until the sun was spilling into their chamber, when he left her again with his promise that he will be with her. And oddly, she wanted something treacly this morning and decided to meet with Jeody for sugared fruit pieces with roasted grain and nuts, along with honey and thick cream.

"It is good to see you smiling again, your grace." Falgon mentioned from behind her, and she turned to face him. And she was truly smiling, she suddenly noticed.

"Really?" he watched her, his dark eyes soft and gentle on her.

"You are lovely when you smile. It brightens the day so much." he complimented, and she blushed as she turned away from him.

"Thank you, ser." he always praised her, even when she was not deserving of it. Her kind protector... They proceeded down to the kitchen, hearing the children play in the garden through the open door next to the arch leading to the wash house were Lilly had asked to work, hoping she might win back her husband's freedom. She was a sweet girl, and her activities kept mild; and she was allowed to see Avery each day for as long as she wished despite her fear of the jailer. But as for the runner, he had told them everything he was capable to although it wasn't much. There were five strangers that he was aware of, but he didn't know who they were except for the names of Rook and Byrgos, or where they were from save that Rook had mentioned a hold. But his head was covered when they took him, only removed when he was restrained in the cave, and replaced and removed again later when they were well into the woods. He wanted to make it right, but there was little more he could offer in correction. Claira headed down the steps into the kitchen where Jeody's serfs were already busy chopping and peeling and skinning and plucking and cutting to feed the mouths of the castle for the day, fires already warm in the ovens and large pots stood ready to be filled, the scullions and pot boys busied themselves with cleaning and scrubbing while their cook came from the ice room where the meat was mostly kept, next to the castle granary which held cheese and vegetables and fruits and grains and all manner of foods, and a page came up the stairs leading to the cellars under the kitchen with a report on how many barrels of press, mead and ale they had, along with a count of the wine bottles. Lilly came from the wash house with another chamber maid at her side, who had taken to teaching her the ways of the keep, then she stopped and attempted to curtsy to their lady.

"Good morning, milady." she greeted, and Claira smiled at her. She was trying hard.

"Good morning, Lilly. You seem well." she regarded her, the softer dresses of the castle servants seemed more comfortable than the rougher, harder clothing of the majority people of the fields; the fabric gentle over her bearing stomach. The maester had been kind enough to see her, determining that the birth may come within the following three months. One of the girls even helped braid her hair this morning, it seems.

"Very well thank you, milady." she returned.

"And your husband?" Claira enquired, still feeling sorry for them.

"He is being treated kindly, milady." she assured truly grateful, but casting a glance at the tall sentinel that was almost pleading. Falgon had thus far refused his release. In all honesty, she understood why...

"If you'd please pardon us, milady. We still need to clean out some rooms in the west wing." the girl at Lilly's side excused, and then took her gently by the arm to lead her away while Claira stared after them.

"Is there no chance, Falgon?" she asked softly, and looked up at him seeing his shoulders rise and fall.

"I'm afraid not. Not right now, at least." he breathed, and she turned away from him. As per her lord husband's order, he had command of Mount Ardor and she thought better to contest his decisions. Men lost respect and authority when they were questioned by women, no matter their status or position. Her attention went to Jeody as he came up to her side, and finalized her request for this morning's meal before she headed back into the southern hall where Milla was overseeing the preparations while displaying her selections from the garden for their tables to five of their serving girls. She joined them, and they happily shared the colours with their lady. Orange roses and tiny white bell lilies.

"They're lovely, Milla." Claira agreed, and the court maiden looked at the girls.

"Off with you, gather enough for our tables." she instructed and they left through the doors quickly, then Milla offered the flowers in her hands to Claira.

"Thank you, my friend." she held the stems in the fingers of her left hand, while the fingers of her right delicately traced the petals. The colour of fire brushing against her skin, and she could not help but think of her husband again. The warmth he had brought to her...

"You slept better?" Milla asked, bringing her attention back to the green eyes examining her.

"I did, for once." she told, and Milla smiled.

"That is so good to hear, you look better." she noted, but then their comfort was shattered by the baleful cry of a warhorn, followed by the sentry tower bells and howls of the hounds; and again the dreadful sting of fright rushed through them. Claira rushed for the doors with Milla following, the flowers discarded and forgotten with only her footsteps echoing off the walls of the Hall of Fire before she departed the sunstone keep, pausing above the steps where she watched the great gates rise from the ground, and a handful of men rode into the bailey. Her heart raced as she took in the faces, then came to a painful stop when she saw Berin mounted on her husband's great black warhorse... She looked at the others, hoping she may have missed him somehow, but he was not there. There was a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't know to whom it belonged, nor did she care. She simply watched through a cloud of tears how the head of their sentinels dismounted the horse belonging to her husband, and his wife making her way down the stairs which now seemed longer than it truly was, and threw her arms around him. He was leaner than what she remembered with his clothing fitting loosely from his figure under the shadow of his soiled cloak, more worn with noticeable cheekbones and deep set eyes, his hair long and wiry and a fierce beard spread across his cheeks. More shadows passed her, rushing down the stairs. His children, to greet him. She watched numbly as his arms went around each of them, while the other soldiers with him dismounted and gave their horses to the stable boys.

"What's happening, Mama?" a voice rose beside her, and she looked to see Rychon standing next to her, pale and confused.

"I... I don't know, my love." she confessed, watching Berin remove something severely long from the saddle, and slowly coming up the steps towards her while her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

"My lady..." he greeted softly when he finally reached her, his eyes meeting hers in an empty, absent stare.

"Mandeline, take the children inside, please." Milla's voice came from somewhere close, and there was movement.

"Come along, Rychon." the nurse's voice goaded.

"But-" he started, and perhaps she took his hand then.

"Come. Let them speak." she softly urged again, and the presence vanished, but she still looked at him. The deep green of his eyes seeming so brittle under the sharp frost blue.

"Where is lord Raeghun? Where is my husband?!" she demanded, perhaps louder than she wanted. But there was little care any more while a sickening heat slowly flooded her.

"I'm so sorry, lady Claira… He… He was lost to us…" he told, trying to keep his voice even as he presented the object to her, which she slowly took with shaking hands. It was his cloak with the phoenix pin, and something hard inside. She removed the pin, and pulled the fabric to reveal the hilt of Quill in her hands, the tiny little eyes shimmering like the sword itself had been crying...

"His sword? You bring me his sword?" but not him? No body? Nothing that he was so she may place him at rest, and then herself as well.

"We can't find him…" Berin told softly, and the frigid eyes came back to him. Can't find him? Can't find him?!

"Where were you?" she asked him, and the depth of the eyes faded to confusion.

"I was there." he said, but it was not enough.

"Where were you, Berin?!" she demanded again, rage as much as sorrow threatening to drown her.

"I was there! I was there… I don't know what happened... and I was right there…" he countered, the confusion cracking into frustration as his hand went into his hair, his eyes lowering to the ground.

"You were supposed to protect him!" she reminded him harshly, her voice echoing off the stone walls. Her arms burnt, and a moment came when she wanted to strike him as his eyes came back to hers, and she recognised the pulse through her. She hated him. Hated him for returning alone.

"I know! I know I was supposed to… I was there… I was right there, and I don't know…" he snapped back, before his words broke again.

"You failed. My husband is out there somewhere, he may only be wounded; and here you are. He is your liege lord, your friend!" she cried out, grasping the sword tighter in her hands to keep them from reaching for his throat. Had she the strength in her arms, she would have swung the great sword at him to split open his chest...

"He is my brother! I grew up with him, I ran these long halls with him, we hunted together, we trained together; we named one hold our home… I tried to… I was there… I don't know…" he smothered, recalling the frantic searing need to reach him... and he couldn't. The bony grey hand that slid over his shoulder, and he couldn't get to him in time... gentle hands wrapped around his arm, and he looked to his right side to see Milla next to him, the gleam of tears under her eyes.

"He didn't come home because you didn't do your duty!" Claira accused him, and then a hand rested on her shoulder.

"My lady, this is uncalled for. Few are as dedicated to their duty as the sentinels." Maester Adlyn's voice said from behind her, and she looked back. Having heard the bells, he had come down from his tower.

"My husband is not here!" she told him, and then watched as he calmly brought his hand back and folded his hands in front of him.

"What would you have us do?" he asked, and she looked back at Berin in front of her.

"Go out. Go out and find him! I don't care if it takes ten years, bring him back to me." she ordered.

"Your grace, the men are exhausted and wounded. Give them the opportunity to rest." Falgon suggested from her other side.

"I agree with ser Falgon. We will direct a hunter's party instead." Maester Adlyn complied with him, looking over the worn faces of the men lingering in the bailey.

"Do it then. Every moment we stand here idling is a moment less of value." the lady urged, then turned and vanished into the castle with the lord's great sword clutched against her breast, leaving the others behind without a thought. Her husband was gone, and the world with him. Despite the faces in the hall staring at her, she didn't notice a single one. Didn't hear the whispers, the brush of her dress or the resounding footsteps. The day suddenly changed, sodden in a darkness deeper than the lowest hell despite the light of the great hearth and the many torches. She felt hollow, despite the dizziness. Dead, despite the burn through her body. Enraged, despite the crushing sorrow. What do I do now? She looked up, the halls a dull haze through the tears that came and trailed down her cheeks. What do I do now? She stifled the urge to scream. What do I do now? She pushed through the door of the lord's wing, met with the startled faces of the chamber maids.

"Leave me!" she commanded, the harsh words like the crack of a whip, and they fled like geese from a fox out of the wing, leaving it in silence. It's not their fault... she told herself as she moved forward, standing in front of the hearth, trying to drive away the cold and smother the flaming rage.

"Lady Claira?" a voice behind her, Milla had followed her. It's not their fault... but she didn't want to see anyone. Did not want to speak to anyone. Did not want anyone with her, right now.

"Please… Please just leave me…" she told again, trying to be softer than before. Yet another desire to scream tightened her chest, but if she screamed she would break. If she screamed, she would die... Soft feet went back to the door, it opened and closed. Milla stood with her hand resting against the door, her heart racing and her body aflame. With the other, she wiped a tear from her cheek, and then looked up at Falgon next to her.

"I don't know what to do. I wanted to talk to her." she whispered. Her husband was broken, yet her friend did not realize it. She tried to understand, but to accuse him of such things when he had always been there, when he had always given his very best.

"Is it wise for her to be alone right now?" Falgon asked, his dark eyes set on the heavy door, and Milla sighed.

"She said to leave her, but I'll come to see her again later. Perhaps it is best." she decided, and he nodded.

"You must go see Berin." he told her, and she turned to start her way back down again.

"Will you stay here?" she paused to ask, but then he moved forward to accompany her.

"I will speak with Rychon, and then return to the guard's hall. I'll return when I am summoned." he assured, and in silence they went down the long hallways and stairs back to the great hall where they parted, and she returned to their chamber while he proceeded to the gardens where Mandeline in all likelihood had taken the children. Heading down the hallway she felt the sting to her cheeks, and another tear wet her skin. How could he be gone? What happened? She entered their room to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the stone floor with his fingers twisted through his hair. She'd never seen him this ruined before.

"Berin?" she moved forward to join him on the bed, and he looked up at her, his eyes red, body battered and his spirit exhausted.

"He was my best friend... He was my brother... And... and I couldn't do a fucking thing..." he breathed miserably as she sat down beside him.

"Oh, my Berin..." she put her arms around him, her heart breaking for him. For her. For Rychon. For the children. For all of them as the hard truth set in, the realism that they had lost the head of their family; and she found herself shivering against the sadness as his fingers curled around her arm.

"He... He was the closest I had to a real family... before I found you. And... and I failed him..." he whispered, shuddering as his own tears came and he finally gave in.

"I failed him..." he said again, and she held him closer, submitting to the sad agony and they both shed tears for their family. And he told her everything of what happened. The black mass moving over the field to claim the lord, how hard he struggled to get to him, the dark hand taking hold of his shoulder, and the heat of the grip as he took the sword. Their desperate search afterwards, but they could not find anything...

"He's not dead. He's not." Berin then insisted, and looked at her.

"He's not dead. But someone took him. I don't know who it was, and no one else does either." he told, and then looked away.

"Perhaps, we may receive a ransom..." he hoped. Some time later that afternoon, Rychon sat alone in the garden staring out over the blue horizon from the bench near the back fountain. Falgon had come to him, and explained in his gentle way that his father had been lost. He gave him the truth of it, not having any reason to lie, and not being a man in general who would do so. But he had said, that there remained a possibility that he will return as there was no sufficient cause to believe he was dead. His sword was returned, but there was no one who could confirm that he was slain, or even so much as injured. They needed to keep their hope, they had to believe. After, they were called to the southern hall for the morning meal, but in light of the situation much of it was left untouched, and he hadn't seen his mother since this morning. He'd heard she shut herself in the wing, and no one was allowed inside; but what could he do? What was there to do? I will go out and find him! He decided, looking down at the grass beneath his feet, his hands clenching. But first, I must make myself stronger! He acknowledged, feeling the pull of a tear down his right cheek.

"Rychon?" he looked up, and saw his friend beside him.

"Bella." he acknowledged her, quickly wiping away the tear. How is she always so quiet?

"Are you al right?" she asked coming closer, and he nodded.

"I heard, about your father." she told, sitting down next to him and again he nodded without a word. Her hand rested on his back, without knowing what to say, without knowing how to comfort him. She loved her uncle dearly, and there were no words to soften the blow this had dealt them.

"I'm so sorry, Rychon." she breathed, withholding a sob and he looked at her.

"He's alive. I know he is. My father would never have fallen. There's not a man alive that can kill him." he said stubbornly before looking back at the horizon.

"He's alive." he continued, and then she nodded. She had to believe it with him. They shared the silence as the sun was dragged down to the sea.

"What will happen now?" she finally asked when the sun touched the ocean.

"I don't know. I don't know what will happen..." but already, he started to plan his way. Falgon would not let him leave, but somehow he had to find a way. Falgon sat watching the flames, the book in his hands forgotten. This could not have happened, it had to be false. It had to be some terrible dream, but then acknowledged that it could not have been. Reality, oft times was worse than the most horrible dream... Then footsteps made him look up.

"Falgon." he stood and turned to face her.

"Lady Milla?" she stared at him, her eyes still red and tumid from crying.

"It's lady Claira." she told, and he glanced at the door as a painful sting dug into his chest.

"What's wrong?" had she done something? With how she was this morning, it was not difficult to believe.

"She… Will you see her, please?" she begged, and he only slightly eased.

"Where is she?" he asked, and she too glanced back at the arch.

"In their wing. She's been sitting in front of the fireplace since this morning, she won't move. I don't think she's even eaten anything today." she had gone to see her again, twice. But she would not speak. Maester Adlyn had gone to see her as well, with no more success than she had.

"You want me to enter the lord's wing?" Falgon asked her, and she looked down fumbling her hands together. What else was left to her? What more could she do?

"She trusts you, Falgon." she softly reminded him, and heard him sigh. He was reluctant, of course.

"That would be cause for execution. I'm not a Taugere, Milla. I'm not even a lord." he said, with a very clear perspective of who he was. He had no right to enter that place, even when she became so ill he had given her to the hands that tended to the lord's hall to put her to bed.

"Please, I don't know who else to ask." she looked up at him, her eyes begging him. Pleading desperately for his help. And he breathed in.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, watching as the tears came again.

"I don't know... anything..." she implored again, her hands going to her face. He paused, debating the options and the consequences thereof, but then relented.

"Very well. I'll do what I can." he promised, and then left the guards hall for the lord's wing. Do what I can... What can I do? How can I do anything? Protect her I will, but stop a heart from breaking? I have no power there... Finally he stood in front of the great doors, wondering what to do. He had no right. But Milla pleaded so gravely, how could he refuse her? He brought his hand up, and knocked on the hard wood. But there was silence from inside, and he cursed himself for his actions. He took hold of the handle, and pushed the door open to step inside.

"Your grace." he found her, sitting in front of the hearth on the carpet, the cloak and the sheath discarded on the floor. Whether she removed them, or they fell he couldn't be sure. But she sat there with the bare blade held in her hands, silent and broken.

"Your grace, please forgive my intrusion. Your court maiden, Milla sent for me." he pardoned as he came closer, noting the red to her hands where the edge of Quill cut into her skin, and he knelt beside her. She would not move. She would not speak. She wouldn't so much as look at him.

"Please, put down the sword." he asked softly, his left hand coming up to remove the sword from her, but she refused its release.

"I swore to protect you; but I can't protect you from yourself." he tried again, and in time without force she let go of the blade, and he set it down on the floor next to him, looking at her hands where deep gashes oozed blood.

"Maester Adlyn should bind your hands." he suggested, taking her hands in his, the chill burning against his skin. But then she looked at him.

"What am I to do? He's gone. He's gone, and no one knows where he is!" she asked, and he lowered still taking a place on the carpet next to her. I don't know. I can't give you any answers...

"No one has seen him… Many are assuming he's dead." she told, trying to hold back the sobs. Then his hand rested on her arm as their eyes met.

"Berin believes he is alive. That he was taken by someone. And as long as there is no evidence of his demise, there is still hope that he will return to you." he told her sincerely, so wishing he may bring hope back to her, but her hands came away from his.

"What happened to him? Where is he? Is he alone? Is he hurt? Is he hungry? Is he cold? Is he scared?" Her bloodied hands pressed over her face, drowning her cries that were all hopeless, frightened and grief-stricken. He watched her, breaking right there in front of him; and he didn't do anything. He remembered the days following the attack on her during their journey back from the Wanderer's Tourney; when he had to sit and listen to her screams in the night. At her husband's voice calling to her to recognise him, and her agonised crying afterwards... but even that was nothing compared to this. What could he do? He could ride out to search for Raeghun, but that could take months even if he had a chance of finding him. And he would be forsaking the promise he made to his lord inside the Hollow many years ago. What was left to do? He moved forward, wrapped his arms around her gently, and held her against his powerful chest; feeling her shake and shudder, desperate to keep her from desolation.

"Raeghun is the lord of Mount Ardor, a son of the Ardent Kings. He will never be scared." he told her softly, and felt her arms go around his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life.

"Raeghun… my Raeghun... My lord... My beloved... My Raeghun..." he held her tightly, and let her cry. He didn't mind. For what else was there to do? Then her trembling arms grew tighter around him.

"I'm cold… I'm terrified… I feel like I could shatter… Please… Please don't let me go…" came her shuddering whisper, and his arms constricted around her.

"Never. As long as I breathe, I will never let you go. I promise." they sat like this, irrespective of the time that passed as deep night came, and finally she moved.

"Falgon… Thank you. I'm al right now." she breathed, wiping the remnants of tears from her stained cheeks as he drew away from her. He had nothing he could give her. He shouldn't be the one to hold her, he shouldn't be the one to comfort her. He shouldn't... all he had was his promise.

"I'll be here. Whenever and for whatever you need me, I will be here." he promised, taking her broken hand in his, the coldness still reaching into his fingers like burning whips.

"I am yours, your grace; for your every wish. My sword, my cloak, my hands, my shoulders... My strength, my will, my heart. For whichever reason you may need them. I would offer you my soul, if I had one." It was all hers, he belonged to her. But again, he cursed himself as a scolding thought slammed into him. What are you doing, you senseless fool!She looked up at him, indeed seeming calmer.

"Please call Berin to the Hollow for me. I must apologise to him." she asked, and he nodded again looking at her hands.

"Have maester Adlyn tend to your hands, your grace." he told, and she looked down perhaps only now noticing the deep cuts left by the steel.

"I will." then he stood, and helped her carefully to her feet before bowing to her, and taking his leave from the wing. He moved down the halls, still scorning and pondering through the vast darkness. He will return. He must... He passed others on his way down, the whispers smothered by his presence. By now, the news had reached every ear in the keep, and perhaps beyond as well. He reached the end of the incline, and made his way through the doors to the east wing to look for Berin. After a while, he met Rychon on his way back from spending the evening with his friends, and he looked up at the tall warrior.

"How is my mother?" he asked, his frost eyes burning in the dark. His eyes had his mother's lightness, but still the burn of his father's.

"I think she will be al right, the initial shock has passed. But she has asked to speak with lord Berin. You should head up and see her, and then try to find some rest. It's late." Falgon told, and Rychon nodded before passing further down the passage as Falgon watched him, grateful that he seemed in order under the circumstances. But in his eyes he could see it yet, the belief that his father was alive. And for his sake, for all their sakes, they needed to hold on to that belief until proven otherwise. Then he walked further, to the rooms closest to the mint bath to knock on the dark wood, and a moment later Milla opened the door.

"I apologise for disturbing you, my lady." he excused, and the door edged open.

"It's al right. How is she?" she asked, and he glanced away.

"She's better now, I believe. She has asked to speak with lord Berin, if he would not object." he asked, and she looked back at Berin who was still seated on the bed.

"Berin." he looked up, his eyes still deep and hard.

"Claira wants to see you." she said, and he sighed before standing.

"Al right. I'm coming." he moved forward, slow and heavily as if he were carrying the entire world on his shoulders, and then he paused as he stepped through the door, bringing his eyes back to Milla.

"I'll be back, I hope..." he tried to make a joke of it, and then looked at Falgon.

"Let's go." but he allowed his friend, to lead the way in silence until the reached the incline.

"She hates me." Berin suddenly muttered, and Falgon's eyes went to him.

"No. She doesn't hate you." he denied it, but then the deep green eyes met his.

"She does. I could see it in her eyes. The way she looked at me..." then he looked away again, at the shadows in the corners of the passage.

"She wanted me dead, and gods only know she could so much as say a word, and my head will be mounted on the gate." he breathed, and Falgon stopped turning to him.

"She's not like that. Of everyone in this keep, you know best." he told him, not being capable of seeing her as any way but gentle and forgiving.

"Anger and desperation makes you do terrible things, Falgon. You know as well as I..." he sighed, and then moved forward again to the Hollow, where he stopped, and Falgon took a position on the other side of the door. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then entered closing the door. She was already waiting for him, her hands bound with white linen. He approached carefully, and stopped some feet next to her.

"You summoned me, my lady?" he asked, and she turned to face him. Milder than she did this morning.

"I did." he bowed his head to her, oddly expecting more hard words.

"How will I serve?" he asked courteously, and she stepped closer.

"You won't. I ask for your forgiveness, Berin. What I said was unjustified, I had no right to address you that way. You've been loyal…" she started, her hands carefully together in front of her, but then he took them gently, noticing the stains of blood from her palms. These soft hands that held power over his life, even just for an instant. And she chose to shed her own blood, instead of his.

"You have my forgiveness. And I doubtless would have done the same, had I been you. I can't say that I know what it is you're feeling; but it has left an emptiness in all of us. You and I more than any." he tried to comfort, but with his own spirit sacked it meant little as he watched her eyes well up once more, and her hands came up to cover her face.

"I just want him back…" she struggled against the tears again, and he moved forward to stand against her.

"I know. And I wish I could give him back to you." His arms wrapped around her, trying to console her as she shuddered against him. I wish I could do more for you… He pulled back slightly, and then lowered his face to hers, touching his lips gently to her, feeling nothing but the coldness. A coldness that no fire in the world will ever break. Then he pulled back, away from her.

"We will find him, alive or otherwise. Either way, he will come home to you." he assured her, truly and honestly. And then remembered the message he was meant to give her, upon his return.

"King Robb sends his wishes, and has promised to help find him and bring him home." he told. They will find him, one way or another he will come home. They parted for the night, but of sleep there was little or nothing as Claira lay on the bed, simply watching the world through the open door and waiting for the sun to rise and rising with it to dress. With the help of a handmaiden, she was presentable enough to emerge from the lord's wing to find her sentinel awaiting her, and looked up at him, hoping she had been able to reach a degree of hardness as she felt the pulse of her heart fade away.

"Greetings, your grace." he bowed to her, and she returned his greeting before glancing at her hands. Maester Adlyn ought to change the bandages... But that could wait.

"Send messages to everyone. To anyone who has him, to make their demands." she told him, and his eyes darkened with concern.

"Your grace, if you meet their demands-" he started, but she gave him a stubborn look, maybe just the hint of a smile.

"I never said I would meet them. But first, I need to know who has him." she told, and he realized what she hoped for. That would be a start, of course.

"Intending to catch the fox by the tail?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I would rather catch it by the ears, but we don't always have a lot of options..." she turned, heading for the maester's tower.

"And once you know?" he asked, and she paused to look at him again.

"You have brought my husband back to me before, twice. If I asked it of you, would you do it again?" she asked, softly like she was afraid someone who was not meant to, would hear.

"That depends." there was no sure way of knowing, even if the ravens reached their destinations.

"On what?" he glanced out the window separating the maester's tower, from the sun tower.

"The circumstances." she stared at him, not entirely understanding what he meant.

"The circumstances?" she questioned him, and he sighed.

"We will wait, for your reply." he decided, only after they received anything, and if they received anything, they could decide on a certain way to proceed into this. They would have to know who holds him, and where, and how best to get there...

Days had come and gone, and the northern army again made their way north to the twin towers that spanned the river. Lord Edmure, had agreed to marry the Frey girl, who was to be the King's by oath. But he never ceased in his attempts to calculate their best progress. It was evening when Robb asked for his mother's attendance, following an astute suggestion from Gerald. Astute, but still a great risk.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, looking back at him from the maps set out on the table.

"No..." he breathed, glancing at Gerald who stood off to one side near a great iron sconce holding several burning candles.

"It's dangerous." she cautioned him.

"Very dangerous, with no guarantee of success." the Wild Cat had to agree, but they could do it. A very small chance, but they could he believed.

"If we take Tywin's castle from him, the lords of Westeros will realize he's not invincible. Take his home, take his gold, take his power." Robb indicated, and his mother still watched him.

"Why are you telling me?" she asked, and he came forward.

"You begged me not to send Theon to negotiate with his father, and I ignored your advice. Now Winterfell is burnt to the ground, the North is overrun with Ironborn, and Bran and Rickon are gone... So Casterly Rock, I'm asking your advice." he asked, and her attention went to Gerald, still beside the candles. This was his proposal, but left it to the king to decide. And the king, wanted her word to engage or abandon it.

"Do you have enough men?" she asked, and then her attention went back to the table as Robb took up a wooden piece carved in the shape of a castle.

"If Walder Frey cooperates." Robb said, calculating that they would be able to bolster their numbers with a considerable degree, with his men following them.

"If Walder Frey cooperates..." Catelyn agreed, scanning the maps again.

"If reinforcements arrive from King's Landing, before we take the castle, we'll be caught between Tywin's army, and the sea." she warned, and he shared her view of the maps, and her thoughts on the outcome.

"We'll lose the war, and die the way father died... or worse..." he knew, and it was hard but he accepted it. Then she looked at him, her stare hard and sure.

"Show them how it feels to lose what they love." she approved it, and he nodded. With Casterly Rock, they would have a powerful stronghold, and a sure foothold in the west. More supplies, more ground, greater advantage to better their strengths. Robb looked at Gerald.

"How's your father?" he asked, and Gerald sighed. There was concern of course, but what he needed was his skills. This would not be an easy endeavour, and the Grey Tom was visibly downtrodden since Raeghun's disappearance, as were the remaining men of the Corridor despite their willingness to continue their support of the north.

"Worried, and tired. But still sound of mind, I am thankful to say." Gerald reported, and Robb faced him.

"We've sent a handful of hunters out, with orders to keep looking for him." Robb said, and Gerald bowed his head.

"We remain grateful for your help, your grace. You are very kind." he thanked, and then glanced at Catelyn.

"With your leave, your grace. I should go speak with him." he mentioned, and the king nodded, allowing him to leave and he made his way to a tent where Willmon sat inside. The silver-blue eyes met his, as he entered.

"What did he say?" he asked, aware of the proposal.

"We are going to try, to capture Casterly Rock after securing the Frey's alliance once more." he told, sitting down on the opposite chair, but his father simply nodded as he looked away from him again. Gerald leaned forward, staring at his father.

"Father, we need you for this." he softly urged, and saw him force a smile.

"I know. I'm sorry, I'll be al right. I'm just anxious to hear from... whoever has taken him." he confessed, and Gerald tried to ease him.

"We will hear something, soon. I'm sure." he said, and then Willmon stood.

"Where's your brother?" he asked suddenly, and Gerald sat back, confused for a moment.

"With the sentinels, most like. Why?" he asked as Willmon started for the entryway of the tent.

"He and Rod leaves north with first light." he had decided, and Gerald stood to follow him.

"But-" then his father turned back to him.

"I will not take any further risks." he said simply, and Gerald stood back accepting his decision before watching him step out into the night, searching for his son. Somewhere among the clutter of soldiers and nobles, he found his vassal lord.

"Luitpold. I'm sending your son home, with mine. Have him report to me immediately." he told, and the gentleman bowed his head to him.

"The reason for that, my lord?" he asked respectfully.

"So they may hold our lands, and keep our families safe." he told, and Luitpold nodded.

"I will have him come see you right away, my lord." he promised, and then left while Willmon ranged the camp looking for Rhegard, finding him before too long sharing a fire with Edur and Derric, who were distinctly quiet.

"We should have gone with him." Derric muttered.

"What difference could we have made? If Berin couldn't do anything, what could we have done?" Edur returned.

"We haven't received any demands, yet." Derric told.

"Someone will make them." Rhegard insisted, and then looked up noticing the silver glow in the night, his father's hair catching the light of the fire.

"Rhegard, come with me. Now." he ordered, and then turned and walked back to his tent with Rhegard rushing along.

"What happened? Have we received ransom?" he asked anxiously.

"No yet." Willmon breathed as Rhegard trailed behind him.

"Then, what-" he tried.

"Hush, boy." he silenced him, continuing on to his shelter where they entered an empty space, and not too long after was joined by Hrodrich.

"You summoned me, my lord?" he asked as he stepped through, and Willmon nodded.

"I did." he moved forward, and then scanned the area outside to ensure that no one was listening on them; but most soldiers were off on their own business.

"Father, what is happening?" Rhegard asked again, and then the Grey Tom turned towards them, his eyes taking them in.

"I'm sending you both home. Gather your belongings, you ride north before daybreak with no one the wiser. Be swift, and direct." he ordered them, and the young men passed a glance between them.

"Are we to gather more men?" Rhegard asked, but his father shook his head.

"No." a short silence followed as they wondered.

"Then, why?" Hrodrich asked.

"To protect our homes, and our families." then his eyes settled on his own son.

"Rhegard, I want you to stop at Mount Ardor on your way up. Try to convince your sister, to go with you to Pale Haven with Rychon. They will be safe there." he urged, and Rhegard nodded in acceptance. He knew, not to question his father when he issued orders. But then he came forward, laying his hands on their shoulders.

"My sons, before the next full moon our future will be determined. I will not risk our houses, and our families on whims and hopes. If we succeed, we will all see victory. But, if we don't..." his eyes glowed in the soft light of the candles, and Rhegard's hand went to his elbow.

"You will remain." he told, and they understood.

"Yes, father. As you bid." they both agreed, and Hrodrich looked at Rhegard.

"We should try to get some sleep." he suggested, and Rhegard nodded.

"Indeed. We have an early start." he conceded, and then looked back at his father.

"Good night, father. And... goodbye." he greeted, as they would not see him again. But somehow, it seemed to weigh heavy on his tongue, the word struggling its way out.

"Good night, boys. Stay safe." the elder man returned, and they left his tent, making their way to their own.

"Where do I meet you?" Hrodrich asked, and Rhegard glanced at him.

"At the broken oak, to the east of the camp. One hour before dawn." he told, and Rod nodded before heading off. Rhegard dragged himself to his own tent, and lay down trying to find sleep; but it would not come, so in the dark he stuffed as much as he could into a bag and slung it over his shoulder heading outside to find his Incus where he quick and quietly brushed out the pelt before saddling him, and led him to the mangled tree where he sat down on one of the thick roots and simply waited. But a couple of hours later, well before the agreed-upon time, Rod came from the shadows leading his dark grey charger amidst the world dimly lit by a crescent moon.

"You're early." Rhegard smiled softly, and his brother smiled back.

"You're earlier." he noted, and Rhegard stood.

"I couldn't sleep." he excused, and Rod gave his horse a pat to the neck.

"Neither could I. I suppose it's reason enough to set off." he suggested, and Rhegard sighed.

"I suppose so." he agreed, and they mounted their steeds before casting the camp site a final glance, with its many burning torches and bonfires. Some sentries wandered about here and there, but none that had seen them. Then they vanished into the night.

Rychon stood watching the lands from the crown of the sun tower, with Wink sniffing at the stones of the wide parapets. It was a clear day, with not a cloud in the sky as he scanned the world, the rolling hills and cracks where streams flowed. The woodlands and the dots that were farms on the fields, far to the horizon, and the endless blue that stretched out behind him. His father had once showed him, the north-east tower of the Twins, but it was little more than the tip of a needle sticking out of the earth on the horizon. Whether it was or not, he couldn't tell. He'd never been that far away from the castle. Days had seeped into weeks, but much of everything stayed the same. The ravens flew, and a meagre few returned with sympathies, but nothing else. His mother had remained reserved, and tended to what was necessary but little else. Berin had started giving orders for men to be assembled to return south, intending to meet with lord Rames once more at Oakhilt before crossing the border, and a short while ago Wymon offered to spar with him as the other children struggled to contend with him; and still he was not allowed off the castle grounds. He looked down over the edge of the high railing, at the people moving about below little more than dark shapes. And again, he heard his father, You are a lord of the burning mountain, Rychon. You must act like it... His hands ran through his hair. How? What should I do? He breathed in deeply, and then looked up at the woodlands. I need to get back to the grounds... I need to make myself better! The sooner, the better. Scooping Wink up he turned and made his way down the long stairways, a shipment was expected by noon, if he could have his horse saddled and ready before they arrived he could slip out, do his runs and get back before nightfall. He could order Renko to go with him, but he would in all likelihood try to persuade him otherwise, or even refuse. And the grounds near the castle have been peaceful, so there was no reason to think that something was wrong. He had to get better so he could find his father... Passing the lady's common room he saw Bella and her mother inside, along with his. Everyone was quiet, but she hasn't spoken for a week and he'd listened to her crying in the night long after his own tears had come and gone; her embroidery was left discarded on the table while her primary activity was simply staring at the flames of the fires. She still sang to him, but it was a bitter comfort... I will find him... He entered with Wink in his hands, then Milla and Bella looked up.

"I apologise for disturbing you." he pardoned as the court maiden softly smiled.

"Not at all, dear Rychon. Will you join us?" she asked, glancing at Claira still silent in her sorrow.

"Not right now, thank you aunt Milla. I... I'm heading to the garden. I was wondering if Bella would mind looking after Wink for me." he explained, and she stood.

"Of course." she agreed, raising her hands so he surrendered his pet to her.

"Thank you." then he gently squeezed her fingers before leaving, making her wonder as she returned to her seat where Wink clambered up to her shoulder. Normally, he would just take Wink with him.

"It's becoming colder..." she heard her mother softly, and looked up at her.

"It is." she agreed, but that might not have been the fault of the weather. Her eyes went to Claira, still just staring at the hearth.

"Aunt Claira?" slowly she looked up, like her very motions were becoming frozen. What could she say?

"Can I get you some tea?" she asked, and the eyes slowly went away from her again without a word. It made her heart break, that they could no longer reach her. That if not for her still beating heart, she may as well be a corpse... But then a comforting hand on hers, and her mother glanced at her before looking at the lady of their hold.

"Claira." her face rose, but her stare remained where it was.

"Raise your hand." Milla told, and she did slowly.

"Now place it against your chest." she added, and the hand slowly lay against her skin.

"What do you feel?" she asked, and Claira sighed.

"Nothing." she replied sombrely, and Milla leaned forward.

"No, not 'nothing'. What do you feel, hanging from your neck?" she asked again, more specifically.

"My amulet." she finally said.

"Your amulet has a name, doesn't it?" she reminded.

"You know its name, Milla." she breathed.

"I do. But it seems, you have forgotten." she softly said, and then the stare came to her with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Milla." she sat back, tracing the edge of the silver heart.

"Where is your husband?" she asked, looking back at the flames.

"With master Austinus, having preparations made. They should be back from Hillfield tonight." Milla told, relieved that she could find the strength for a conversation, no matter how mild as noon passed. Once a raven was received from the army, Berin would leave with as many men as he could gather, again leaving the castle with four sentinels and a fair count of guards, although it might be less than before. He was determined, and still hopeful no matter the situation.

"As long as we're here, and the gates are sealed we'll be fine." Claira assured, easier than before, then a tall shadow darkened the doorway.

"Forgive my intrusion, your grace." he pardoned, returning from duties in the barracks to retake his place.

"Not at all, ser." she looked up at him, inviting him inside. He moved forward to sit down against the wall, but then stopped suddenly looking back. And they heard it, too. Hard, panicked voices from the bailey and the frenzied barking of the dogs. Claira stood immediately, rushing down the halls with the others following, the flickering of thousands of torches just a moment's passing light until she exited the castle, finding frantic men and a handful of riders rushing out the gates.

"What happened?" she called to nearby guards pointing around.

"What happened?!" she demanded again making her way down the steps, and one acknowledged her.

"It's young lord Rychon, my lady. He and Berterin slipped out with their horses. We tried to stop them, but-" he started, and another frigid sting cut into her heart.

"When?" she asked, looking at the gate.

"Moments ago." he reported, the ice rising to her cheeks.

"Which way did they go? Where would they go?" she asked, but her voice had gone.

"I don't know, my lady. They headed east." She stared at the gate, at the men rushing around. Rychon... what are you doing..? It was cold, and strangely dark. Then a tall mass moved past her.

"I know where they went." it was Falgon, starting towards the gate.

"Bring out my horse, now!" he called to the stable boys before turning to Wymon just behind them.

"See the ladies back inside, and stay with them." he ordered, and Claira moved forward.

"Falgon..." he turned to face her, smiling but with a hardness to his dark eyes.

"I will find them, I promise." he told, and proceeded to the stable quickly as Galeo was led out for him, mounting bareback he set off through the gate and over the bridge as she stared after him and the gate lowered behind him.

"Come inside, my lady. He will be back with the children again, soon." Wymon softly urged from next to her, and she turned gingerly to retreat back inside; but her body ached with cold as Bella still stood watching the gate wide-eyed, Wink held in her right hand and her left hand closed over her mouth. That's why...

"Hurry up, I don't want to be here any longer than we need to be." Rychon called back as he led the way through the trees bordering the training ground.

"I'm right behind you, Rychon." Berterin laughed, keeping pace easily. He could say with pride that he was a fine rider, and his Rutt was as swift and nimble as Nix if not more. Seeing Rychon pass in the hallway, he followed him to the stable where he made him share his intentions; and not wanting his friend to leave alone he insisted on coming with him. It was exhilarating to escape the castle, and somewhat satisfying to throw off the guards who attempted to follow. After saddling the horses in the shade of the stalls, they waited for the moment the gate opened to accept the shipment before putting their heels to their coursers, and raced out. How many people could say they thwarted the guards of the burning mountain? Then they emerged into a clearing, where an intricate maze was spread out, long shafts protruding from the earth with logs hanging from the branches, and target posts set throughout the complicated twists and turns; and he took it in with utter astonishment.

"This is where you've been training?" he asked, watching as Rychon dismounted his horse to let him graze between the trees.

"Yes." he replied, and took a sparring sword from the saddle before walking towards the labyrinth.

"It looks hard." Berterin breathed as he dismounted and followed, but Rychon shrugged.

"It's not that bad. I've grown used to it, by now." Rychon told as he approached a selection of long ropes tied to a tree, taking hold of the ends to pull. Using all of his weight, he jerked back and they slipped free, and the logs dropped from the branches swinging between the shafts. Berterin watched excitedly as Rychon went to the first entrance of the labyrinth, he'd never seen anything like this before, and even more so the flames that passed off his friend.

"You can just watch, I won't be long." Rychon suggested, then he sat down on the grass, staring at the young heir as he took his place, along with several deep breaths. A moment of silence followed, and then he shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow as Berterin watched in awe. He ducked under a passing log, and then twisted instantly avoiding another one while touching the tip of the sword to a target post; then forward over a hedge and rolled, touching another one. Another twist and a slide, and another target; all while the flames left a beam of light behind him in his speed. At last, Berterin understood why he was so good. He'd been doing this almost every day for years... Since he was five. He came to his feet as Rychon emerged from the maze, breathless but with a smile.

"That was amazing!" he exclaimed, and the bright eyes met his.

"It's not good enough..." he sighed, but Berterin took his arm.

"I've never seen anyone do that." he told, and looked at the shafts.

"Do you think I could try?" he asked eagerly, and Rychon glanced back.

"I don't know. Maybe, but not right now." he said, his friend's face dimming in disappointment.

"But, when the war is over and my father is back, you could join us." he assured, and the smile came back. Then he turned to retake his place at the maze, but stopped abruptly feeling the sting of acid in his cheeks. The same man they'd met weeks ago, stood staring at them with the same empty smile.

"Valar morghulis." he greeted, taking a step forward.

"Rytsas." Rychon returned, watching the stranger come slowly forward. The same, strange crow's walk to his motions. Then he glanced around, searching the area.

"Where's your father?" he suddenly asked as his dark eyes came back to him.

"My father?" Rychon took a step back, and the dead smile widened.

"The big man." he indicated, and Rychon felt an uneasy hand on his arm as three more strangers on horseback emerged from the trees.

"We should go, Rychon." Berterin suddenly told urgently, and the stare of the stranger rested on him.

"We're just talking, lad." he tried to ease him, but the stinging burn did not leave. It was a mistake to come here. And they were alone.

"It is getting late." Rychon tried, as the stranger still moved forward, crooked and cautious.

"You could share supper with us, then we'll see you home. We caught some good hares earlier." the stranger suggested, motioning back to the men behind him and trying to goad them.

"Thank you, but my friend's right. We should go." Rychon insisted, taking hold of Berterin's shoulder and quickly scanning for their horses. They would have to run.

"Come now, boy." the stranger still urged, and then without warning suddenly grabbed forward towards them, and Rychon shoved Berterin away avoiding the hand.

"Run!" his voice cut through the forest, and they started to sprint for the horses as the air burnt in their chest. But a rough hand caught his jerkin, and hauled him back.

"You're not getting away that easily!" the scrawny man laughed, and Rychon screamed at himself. You fool! You stupid, stupid fool! His fingers seared as his eyes met Berterin's back. I will not be taken! He turned suddenly, slamming a hand into the face behind him. He grunted, and the hold loosened just enough to jerk free as he turned, but then the other hand clamped down on his shoulder hard.

"I was right, you are strong." the stranger spat as he writhed and struggled.

"Let go of me!" he screamed, but the grip forced him to the ground, the smell of dust and crushed grass filling him.

"The master will be happy for you." the stranger grinned.

"Let go!" Rychon screamed, and suddenly the grip vanished to a painful wail; and Rychon saw Berterin standing next to him holding a thick branch in his hands.

"Rychon, get up!" he cried, and Rychon stumbled to his feet away from the man rubbing his head.

"I told you to run!" he called, and an arm hooked around his, hauling him forward.

"I'm not leaving without you." he told stubbornly, but they'd only gone another few feet before the men on horseback circled them, and they were left standing back-to-back, watching them. They were grinning and laughing, evidently amused by their efforts.

"Let us go! Let us go, or-" Rychon started, the burning beat of his heart coursing through his body.

"Or what, boy? You're alone." the thin man challenged him, and it was true. They were alone, and near to defenceless against four taller, stronger men.

"You will let them go." another voice cut into them, deep and commanding; but absolutely elating. Rychon watched as Falgon came from the woods, calm and confident; just walking forward to where the children were as he removed Summit from his back, and the men on horseback circled them, blocking their way back to the keep.

"And if we don't, cuss?" one of them called to him with a pleased laugh, but oddly he simply smiled back.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. You will." he assured them, reaching Rychon's side. He looked up at the sentinel, focused on the men; severely happy that he'd come but still fearful.

"Falgon... I'm scared..." he whispered, feeling Berterin close behind him.

"I know. But you have to make for your horses, I will create an opening for you. Remember what you've learnt, Rychon. And do not look back." he instructed softly, and then stepped forward to stand between the children and the men.

"I'll try." he promised, glancing at Berterin.

"You came alone, too? For a man who's said to be strong, you're certainly not smart." the skinny crow-man laughed, taking a dagger from his side.

"I've had far worse odds than the lot of you. So, come." Falgon invited, holding Summit in front of him, and Berterin's eyes widened in horror as the world darkened, staring at the sentinel. To his sight, and his alone, the black wings that followed him, opened and spread wide while the head of a demon with leering red eyes, long jagged teeth and curled horns under a thick mane loomed above him, snarling at the strangers. The memory, was a monster...

"Kill him!" came someone's cry, and the forest was taken by a black, bloody bedlam. There was the whistling of crossbow bolts, the sing of steel, and terrifying screams as Rychon dragged his friend forward, ducking under blades and running for their horses. In a mist of fright, they mounted and raced home, leaving the turmoil behind, with heartbeats even louder in their ears than the frantic pounding of the hooves. They did not know how long it was before the castle came into view, and Rychon looked up. He did not have a horn with him; but to his gratitude the sentries saw them and the tolling of the bells could be heard as the gate was raised up. They entered to meet a horde of guards, and their family rushing down the stairs towards them, and Rychon looked around, noting Berterin slip from his horse and head inside as if still running from something while Milla turned and followed him into the shadows. But he glanced back at the gate. I have to take men. I have to take men, and go back...

"Rychon!" his mother called to him as she reached his side, and he looked down.

"We have to go back! We have to go back for him!" he cried as a stable boy took the reins of his exhausted horse, and Renko pulled him from the saddle.

"What happened?" Bella asked, Wink still held in her hands.

"We have to go back!" Rychon called again, searching the faces around him. But then his mother's painful hands took hold of his arms.

"You can't go out there again!" but he stared back at her, his eyes burning. Whether from tears or elsewise, he couldn't tell.

"I have to!" he called again, and her hands tightened but only slightly.

"Rychon, listen to me-" she tried, but it was little more than a whisper under the screams in his mind. The relentless, painful, terrified shrieking.

"I have to go back!" he screamed, but no one would listen. No one would move as they cast glances between one another. But then they looked up as more horses came through the gate. Berin and master Austinus had returned, and Rychon slipped from his mother's grasp easily, heading towards them as they dismounted, looking over them all.

"Uncle Berin, you have to help me!" he begged as the green eyes examined him.

"What is it? What happened?" he asked, the light eyes pleading desperately.

"We were attacked, Falgon stayed behind to defend us. Please! Please, you have to help me! We have to go back for him!" he told urgently, and Berin looked up at Claira.

"Rychon..." he seemed confused for a moment.

"Please!" he screamed again, finally making the head of the sentinels turn his attention to the men around them.

"Ten men, quickly!" he ordered, and they had to wait while the horses were brought out.

"Hurry!" Rychon called to them, We have to hurry! We have to hurry, he could be- Then the bailey was taken by a hard silence as a large destrier came through quickly, and everyone stared at the stranger. No, not a stranger... Rychon breathed out, and relief washed over him, almost making him feel dizzy. Claira moved forward towards him as the great sentinel dismounted, giving his horse to a stable boy. He was covered in grime.

"Falgon..." she breathed, feeling the pulse of her heart, then he turned and smiled at her.

"I'm al right. I'm uninjured." Uninjured..? She stared at him. There was blood everywhere... His hand came up, wiping the red from his cheek.

"With your permission, your grace. I should make myself presentable, before appearing before you." But all she could do was to stare at him, the whirl of emotions too confusing to distinguish. You lout! You could have been killed, and you're worried that you're dirty?! He bowed to her, and then moved past her without another word into the hold. But more than the blood, it was his eyes. Hard and stained... Rychon sat down on the steps, shivering. He passed him as well, without so much as a glance. He listened as the order was given to return the horses to the stable, and the heavy churning of the chains as the gates were closed, and then pressure on his shoulder as Wink climbed up to him. Then his mother came back to him, and he looked up.

"Come inside..." she said softly, and he nodded slowly standing, and following the trickle of people returning into the castle, and Bella trailed in silence, feeling the sting fade away. They were safe. They were both safe, thanks to him. Then she saw her mother return back down the grand staircase sullenly with Vaellion next to her, and she went to her.

"Where's Berterin?" she asked, meeting the light green eyes.

"In his chamber. He wouldn't speak, he wouldn't move. Perhaps, your father should see him." she said,

"I'll try." Bella moved up the stairs, Berterin usually listened to her. He headed through the castle, down the long hallways and many torch lights to the eastern wing where she entered his room softly.

"Berterin?" he was sitting on his bed, arms wound around his knees like a frightened little child. She went closer, and sat down with him.

"Are you al right? Have you been hurt?" she asked, brushing her fingers gently against his thick black hair, and he simply shook his head.

"You're home, now. You're safe." she told him, and he nodded as she sighed.

"You should thank Falgon, for bringing you back." she suggested, but he looked away.

"I don't want to." he said coldly and she stared at him.

"He brought you back." she reminded him, but he would not face her.

"I don't want to!" he said again stubbornly, and then stood from the bed going to the window where the light disappeared from outside. She stood, and followed him as sudden anger rose in her.

"He came after you. He saved you!" she yelled at him, furious for his stubbornness. Then he turned back, his eyes challenging and defiant.

"I don't want to see him! I don't want to go anywhere near him! He's a monster! He's a demon!" he cried, and in a sudden instance of fury she slapped her brother hard, making him lurch.

"Don't you say that! Don't you ever say that about him!" she screamed at him; she loved Falgon. He was kind, he was gentle. He was good. She watched as he looked back at her, holding his ruby cheek, but his eyes still piercing.

"You didn't see it! You didn't see what I saw!" he screamed back. That thing, whatever it was, was ancient and terrible and powerful... and deadly. And it would come to devour him.

"That's enough!" they both looked at the door, where their father stood in the arch watching them. And then he stepped inside.

"Bella, I'll talk to him." he said, and Bella looked back at her brother with an almost repulsive glance before turning and leaving them. Berin then closed the door, and came to his son.

"I should punish you, but I suppose you've been through a lot?" he breathed, sitting down on the bed and looking at Berterin, who still stood in front of the window, the burning sting slowly fading from his left cheek, and the tears came.

"I'm sorry, father. I'm so sorry..." but Berin motioned for his son to sit down next to him on the bed, and let him cry for a while.

"It's al right. I am thankful that you're both unharmed." Berin said as his arm went around Berterin's shoulders. This must have been a harrowing experience, but at the very least they won't venture out unattended again, until they were ready. Finally calmer, he looked down at the black haired boy.

"What did you see, Berterin?" he asked, but the stare remained on the stones of the floor.

"I... I saw a monster. It rose right out of him... It was horrible..." Berterin whispered, the vision of the mighty shadow etched into his mind. The horns, the teeth... and those frightful red eyes...

"What did it look like?" Berin asked softly, and he tried to remember. How could he describe this? What would come close? A dragon, made up of many different creatures?

"I don't know. Like a horse, and a lion, and a bull... it had long teeth... and its eyes..." he tried, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"I was scared... I was so scared..." Berterin told, holding back whimpers and his father held him closer.

"My poor boy. You're safe. You're both safe." he soothed, and then took a deep breath.

"Falgon is the lady's sentinel. He is a guardian of our family. He protected lady Claira, he saved her, he saved your mother, and others. He even saved lord Raeghun, once. And today, he protected you. You never need to be afraid of him. He is a part of our family." Berin tried to comfort him.

"I know... I just... I can't get it out of my head..." he whispered, and Berin wondered. He knew it, had noticed it himself several times. Was that the darkness they saw when the tall man sensed a threat? What happened, out there..? Then he looked back. Was that any consolation? He supposed it was worth a try.

"I saw something, too. The day lord Raeghun was taken from us. Something that no one else seemed to." Berin told, and his son's eyes came to him.

"You did?" he asked.

"Yes. I saw a man, robed entirely in black..." he brought it back, it might not have been as terrifying as the vision in the woods, but horrible all the same.

"Perhaps, the things we see are for a reason. I can't give you any answers for it, but these entities might make their presence known to us so we may understand situations there are no words for." he supposed, and heard Berterin sigh next to him.

"Maybe... But, I don't want to see it again..." he whispered, and the room faded to silence. In time, he might have the courage to face him again. But, not now. Not soon... Then Berin stood, holding out his hand.

"Come along, it should be time for supper soon." he urged, but Berterin turned away from him.

"I'm not hungry. I'd rather stay here." he said, resistive to even leave the safety of his chamber.

"Al right. But you are going to have to come out again, some time. And you will have to face him, sooner or later." his father told, and he stared at the last purple fade from the sky outside while the stars already shined bright in the heavens.

"It will have to be later..." he told, and Berin left in silence returning to the southern hall to rejoin the family, meeting his friend in the Hall of Fire on his way back to the barracks after washing and his soiled clothing given to the wash house with the rest to be reclaimed by morning, resuming his normal becoming appearance.

"Thank you, Falgon." the tall warrior faced him.

"I am relieved, that they are both safely home." he replied, and then glanced at the tall doors of the southern hall, the children conversing with their mothers just beyond. Supper may not be served for yet a little while longer.

"They shouldn't have gone out. I told him not to." he softly breathed, watching the figures.

"You're angry with him?" Berin asked, and then his attention came back to him.

"No, I'm not angry. I'm disappointed." he softened it, and sighed.

"If he is to give commands one day, he must understand what it is to follow them, first... It becomes easy to ask something of others, if you don't realize what it is that you're asking. Sometimes, the price paid for defiance is far too high." Whether people wanted to call it the iron price or the steel price or the blood price they could decide for themselves, but it was something he will never pay again... Then Rychon came from the hall towards him with Wink on his shoulder.

"Go on, I'll meet you again later." Falgon urged, and Berin moved away as Rychon reached him.

"You're al right." he called happily, and then smiled.

"That was the second time today we could escape someone." he said, making a boast of their experience; but the hardness remained in the dark striking eyes.

"What were you thinking?" Falgon asked him, and the smile faded as he stared at the sentinel and a warmth crept up from his stomach.

"I needed it. I needed to run, to train, to make myself better!" Rychon justified it, for the first time registering the harshness.

"You placed yourself in danger, you placed Berterin in danger. Had I not come for you, those men would have taken you. Both of you." Falgon told him, and Rychon looked away from him. Telling himself that he wasn't given a chance to prove himself.

"We would have been fine. I've been training there for almost six years." he countered, suddenly thinking that they could have gotten away without his help.

"You are not to leave the castle grounds again, do you understand?" the deep voice met him solidly, and he looked back, fighting the frustration. Who do you think you are?

"You cannot give me orders. You cannot keep me here!" he snapped back, but the warrior stared back, calm as always.

"I can. And if I need to, I will. With the current situation, I hold more authority than you." he reminded him, and it burnt through him. By succession of blood, he should have a better position than some low-born swordsman, no matter how good he was.

"You are a commoner. I am the lord's son!" he yelled, as if he'd forgotten who he was; but Falgon smirked, amused by his words.

"You believe that a title makes you who you are? Very well, Lord of Flame. Take up your sword against me, and assume your rights." he invited, and then headed past him to the barracks, on his way to the bailey as Rychon watched him while cold teeth pierced into his heart. What are you doing?! Then he looked back at the hall where the shocked faces of his family stared back.

"I will await you, sire." Falgon called back, and Rychon faced him... You are a lord of the burning mountain, Rychon. You must act like it... then a hand took his shoulder, and he turned to a stricken girl beside him.

"Are you mad? He'll mangle you!" she whispered desperately, but he gently pushed Bella's hand away.

"I have to..." he breathed, taking the ferret from his shoulder and handing him to her. If he dismissed the challenge, he'd be seen as a coward. The Taugere that stood down. The weak link in the mighty chain of their bloodline. Then he walked forward, and again she grabbed his arm.

"Please. Please, don't to this." she begged, but he slipped free, forcing courage into himself and continued on his way to the bailey where as promised the sentinel awaited him. Taking a sword from the rack he took his place, rising the blade in front of him, aimed for the smiling face.

"Come." he told, simply standing there.

"Remove your sword!" Rychon called, but he did not move.

"I said, come!" he told again, and Rychon's hands gripped the hold tighter.

"Remove your sword! I don't want to hurt you, Falgon!" Rychon demanded, taking in the hard, sharp eyes staring back.

"Come. If you lack the intention to kill me, you will fail." he assured confidently, and it left a stab of revolt. You arrogant brute! Rychon shot forward, driving the sword in front of him; but in an instant the tall mass moved, and a flash of firelight passed over him a moment before the flat of the great blade struck into the back of his legs, leaving painful burning weals, and he fell; imagining a trickle of blood running down his skin. He looked up, seeing Falgon turn and Summit in his right hand.

"Again!" he ordered, and Rychon forced himself to his feet. He couldn't identify the emotions any more, there were too many. The only thing that was deeper and brighter than them all, was the burn in him; and he moved forward.

"Stop this! Stop it, please!" Bella took hold of her father's hand, pleading as tears streamed down her face. But he simply stared, and so did her mother, and so did her aunt, and all the others that followed. Renko had tried to intervene, but Wymon held him back.

"Please!" she cried again, looking at Claira who stood watching, her eyes glimmering behind the tears she tried to withhold.

"Falgon won't harm him... He won't..." she whispered as she watched the atrocious clash; and once more, the flat side of the blade cut across Rychon's stomach, leaving searing lashes as he was forced back. He looked up through the burn, could almost feel the moisture flowing down from the wounds. He hadn't managed to so much as touch him. He would not be stronger, so he had to be faster... so he gained sure footing and lunged himself forward again.

"Stop it! This is going too far! Please, stop it! Please!" Bella screamed as again, the flat of the blade slammed down on Rychon's back hard, sending him down as pain flooded his body. It took every ounce of will not to cry, and all that was spare to summon motions to his muscles. He stared at the dirt beneath him, the sword forgotten beside him and breathing hard, hating the course of pain and fire through him. Then he looked up, at the warrior in front of him. He just wasn't good enough...

"I've taught you everything you know of the sword, Rychon. But you need lifetimes to learn everything I know." Falgon told, and Rychon again forced himself to his feet with his body aflame and aching through the shivering limbs that tried to keep him up. He would never best him, and he knew it. Would never be as good as he was, no matter how hard he tried. He could train for a thousand years, and it would not make a difference against someone who was so different from them. His hands clenched into fists.

"I hate you!" he suddenly cried, the tears he denied himself escaping his eyes. But he watched as the sentinel replaced his great sword in its place, just looking back at him.

"You can hate me. I would rather have you hate me, than dead." he accepted it, without so much as a rueful flash in his striking eyes. Then Rychon turned and ran into the castle, heedless of the eyes staring at him. He hated him, but more than that he hated himself... Then Falgon breathed out heavily, driving away the bitterness in his chest. Then he moved forward as the others retreated inside, leaving them alone as he stood in front of the lady of the hold, looking up at him with her wondrous eyes glimmering.

"I apologize, your grace." he said softly, truly grieved for the harsh outcome. But she nodded, capable of a soft understanding smile.

"It's al right. Rychon is a very headstrong boy, and he's entered that stage of his life where he will challenge authority. But with his father... gone, I am grateful that he has you to guide him still." she told gently, lifting the hurt that surrounded him.

"That..." but he struggled with the words for a moment, and then smiled back. Means a great deal to me... he bowed to her.

"I will do whatever I can." he promised her again, and then allowed her to lead the way back into the keep to the southern hall, but she paused looking up to see Bella approaching her son where he had stopped at the base of the grand staircase, allowing more tears to soak his skin that was a bland sense under the pain that reached through him. A soft hand touched his shoulder, but he didn't care who it was.

"Rychon, are you al right?" Bella asked gently, and he raised his eyes.

"I wasn't ready... I wasn't ready to face him..." he confessed, battling against more tears, but she lay her hands on his arm.

"Come on, you should see maester Adlyn." she urged, and led him the way up to the maester's tower where he met them in his chamber and she left him in the healer's care to return to the southern hall, and their maester instructed the heir to remove his clothing and take a seat near the little hearth to examine the damage, where his hands ran skilfully over the warmth.

"The skin has not been broken, my lord. And it won't leave any scarring." he told with a reassuring smile before retrieving a small vessel of balm to apply to the injuries.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice soft and caring and Rychon grimaced, feeling the cool ointment on the burning skin, slowly numbing the pain.

"I... I challenged Falgon. I shouldn't have, I suppose. I wasn't ready..." he explained, and the deep brown eyes took him in.

"I see. But, I believe that ser Falgon exercised a fair deal of restraint. It could have been much worse." he shared, and Rychon looked up.

"He might have. Or it might have just been my clothing that was in the way." he added, but the maester grinned.

"No, dear boy. It was definitely restraint. With his strength, the clothing would have been of little consequence. I've seen him cut through leather armour, just enough to damage the skin when he could have severed the arm completely. And I've seen him break a man's hand, as easily as a dry straw, with meagre effort." the maester told, recalling the day Wymon came to see him after his failed challenge and the evening they corrected Berin's misshapen hand. It was something so few possessed; the precise control of their power. And then Rychon looked up at him as his hands went to the lashes over his abdomen, applying the soothing balm to the inflamed skin.

"But... But he-" he started, but the maester smiled.

"That man has served your family well, Rychon. He has relinquished every right or desire he may ever have had to uphold his oath to your parents. He gave up the life of an individual, so he may spend his days in their presence, as their protector." he told, and the boy glanced away.

"Why would he do that?" he mumbled, but the gentle smile remained.

"I can think of one reason." then his hands went to the red sears over the backs of his legs.

"You are familiar with the Night's Watch, and the King's Guard?" Rychon winced again at the initial stinging sensation, but slowly felt it fade.

"Who isn't?" of course, everyone knew them. Both these orders were ancient.

"And you've heard their vows." the maester continued.

"Of course." then the maester sat back.

"They renounce their titles and claims. They take no wives, and father no children. Their entire lives, are dedicated solely to their duty." then he replaced the covering of the vessel.

"Falgon may never have said those exact words, but that is exactly how he chose to live. His actions have spoken louder than any words ever could. And I believe for a man to find such contentment in their duty, they must love what they do." he explained, holding the ointment to Rychon.

"Falgon admires and respects your father, he adores your mother. And I honestly believe, that he cares about you as well." he told, and Rychon glanced down, the pain of guilt ever more agonizing than the searing burn over his skin moments ago. All the other sentinels had families of their own, people they returned to when not needed. All of them, except for him. When not in his mother's presence he gave his days to training the heir, or he would simply read. Then the gentle, withered hand rested on his knee.

"You may head back down. The ointment can be applied as many times as you need to, there's lots more." he finally said, and Rychon stood to redress and headed back down the stairway through vacant halls. But rather than going to the southern hall to claim his supper, he retired to his room in the lord's wing where he ate what was left in the fruit bowl always present on his small table and lay down on his bed. A fair while later he drifted off to sleep, through the sways of slumber feeling his furred friend curl up into his neck after his mother silently delivered him back to the room. But sleep would not fully overwhelm him, and he was left thinking on the events of their day while he listened to the soft footsteps of his mother move up and down the halls and stairs. Up, down, up, down, up, down, and up again a final time off to bed. But still sleep would not take him, even when the moon passed his window. Then he sat up, the painful singe of the lashes just a light throb. I have to talk to him. I have to talk to him... he decided, and stood from the bed leaving Wink sprawled over the pillows with his paws in the air to dress in light breeches and a faded tunic before slipping out of the wing, and made his way silently down to the barracks where he stepped through the arch to find the sentinel at his normal post. He drove a long breath into his chest, and stepped forward.

"Falgon..." his attention came away from the book in his hands, settling on Rychon. How do I make this right?

"I'm sorry. I... I don't hate you." he apologised, and the warrior smiled.

"It's al right. I know." he told softly. The hardness to his eyes had gone. Rich, amber brown eyes, just a shade shy of red. Then he moved forward, wrapping his arms around the massive shoulders, realizing in his heart he could never hate someone he loved so much.

"Thank you. Thank you, so much." then the powerful hands rested on his back; hands that disciplined him harshly, but so much stronger when they just held him.

"You are very welcome, Rychon." he said, and after another moment Rychon drew back.

"Those men..." he started, but was still met with the same easy smile.

"You will not see them again." he assured, for which he found himself grateful, but it didn't really matter now.

"You told him, that I was your son?" Rychon mentioned, distinctly recalling the words of the skinny crow-man. Where's your father? The big man...

"I did." Falgon confessed as Rychon stared at him.

"Why?" he asked, but where some would be offended with the notion of a commoner presenting a lordling as his offspring, he was simply curious.

"I needed to protect you." the sentinel revealed, but in his eyes he could see that was not the only reason. There was something more.

"You are not my blood. But, no matter what. I will protect you as if you were." Falgon promised him, and he pitched forward again to hold him, the muscled arms circling him to return the embrace, and as he held the boy close he thanked the four winds that he made it in time. Had anything happened to them, he would never forgive himself. Those men, were assassins sent to capture them, but he'd disposed of them easily enough. But rather than reveal where they were sent from, and by who, the last of them chose to remain silent. It mattered little now while the creatures of the forest would see to what remained of them... these people were not his blood, but they were his family.

It was well into the night when ser Brynden Tully and lord Willmon Tormont pushed their way into the large pavilion, ensuring that the force had their orders to hold together and several sentries set to watch the grounds around the camp site.

"That rain will cost us another day." Brynden announced. It had been pouring down relentlessly for a week, putting off their progress to an extensive degree.

"With the state of the roads, it may cost us another few." Willmon had to correct. And indeed, while the roads were slippery and tacky under the weight of horses and wagons, their movements were slow. And there was something else as well. An uneasy stomach had been plaguing their queen for a while, and she needed to stop regularly because of nausea. But after taking some supplements from her medicine supplies, she seemed to feel better; and Willmon supposed that may be the fault of their changing seasons and their temperamental weather of late.

"Oh, Frey will wait. He knows we're coming." lord Edmure mumbled sitting back, still drenched from the rain.

"Lord Walder is prickly by nature. If-" lady Catelyn started, and Brynden scoffed at the words, holding a small goblet in his hand.

"Prickly? Is that what you call it? He might be the least pleasant man I've ever met." he shared as Catelyn stared at him.

"Yes. And that is why-" she tried again, but ser Brynden had no objection to making his mind known.

"I've seen wet shits, I liked better than Walder Frey." he added purposefully, followed by a moment of silence as he glanced at the king and his queen, meeting an instance of disgrace for his words.

"Apologies, your grace. Spent too many years around lancers and pikemen." he pardoned quickly, but she looked at him with a smile, holding a small towel in her hands which they had used to try and soak up what was left on them from the rain.

"I've spent the last two years nursing wounded men, watching them bleed and die. I'm not afraid of wet shits." she replied easily, and he laughed. Refined, graceful and bold indeed.

"Lord Frey will take this delay as a slight." Catelyn told again, looking over the others.

"Being in his nineties, one would think he'd have learnt a level of patience by now. We have no control over the weather, he will have no choice but to wait. Unpleasant or no." Willmon added as the lady's eyes glanced at him as well.

"He can take it as he likes. He's getting the wedding he wanted." Edmure added.

"He's getting a wedding. It was a king he wanted." Catelyn breathed bitterly, her eyes going to Robb where he stood with Talisa while she rubbed his thick hair with the small towel.

"Edmure is the best match a Frey has had in the history of their house. We should all get some sleep." Robb dismissed them, and Brynden emptied the small goblet in his hand before replacing it on the table and stepping out with Willmon at his side, heading back into the cold wet darkness. The rain had let up slightly, but it was still a soft drizzle settling on the world. Willmon looked around, taking in the shapes in the shadows, tents and trees and shrubs and soldiers and horses. Rhegard and Hrodrich's sudden departure was hardly noticed, and mercifully their presence was not missed beyond an occasional question. Travelling alone would make them quick, they need not suffer the slow haul of foot soldiers and ambling wagons; but capable as they were the roads were scarcely safe even for them, and silently he prayed that they would not encounter difficulties on their way. With any luck, they should reach Mount Ardor within a week, and make it safely home to Pale Haven in a fortnight. In light of her husband's absence, the White Hold would be the safest place for the lady of the burning mountain and her heir; but then the thought came that she had grown stubborn and in all likelihood would not abandon the sunstone castle on the hope that their steward will hold and maintain it against any kind of onslaught. But perhaps, there was a chance...

"If it wasn't for this damned rain, we'd have been at the Twins by now and this whole rout would have been done and over." the Blackfish muttered, making Willmon snigger.

"We shouldn't mind the rain, ser." he eased; people complained about everything. When the snows fell, people wished for summer, when food was plentiful they wanted lower costs, and when their fields had not seen rain in seven months, they prayed for the heavens to open.

"Indeed, with any luck this will flood the enemy right out of their holes." he japed, pausing a moment when his foot sagged away into the thick mud.

"That would be a turn of luck." Willmon had to agree, watching as Brynden struggled his way free of the soil that held him.

"The rain might stop by morning, then we can press further." The Grey Tom sighed, and The Black Fish looked at him.

"Further? We're heading back, if you hadn't noticed." he scoffed.

"Sometimes, you have to go back to go forward." Willmon told, and he ambled up to him.

"Back is back, and forward is forward; there's a good difference between the two." Brynden continued.

"It won't be much longer." Willmon breathed, and they continued to their tents.

"To take Casterly Rock, that was your boy's suggestion?" the he asked, and Willmon nodded.

"It was. We make our proposals, but it is left to the king to decide whether he wants to take up our offers or discard them." he told.

"Casterly Rock is heavily fortified." Brynden reminded.

"It is. And we don't have the men to take it, yet. But with the forces from the Twins, we might have a chance." Willmon said as they passed beneath the trees.

"The Freys are not known for their bravery or their strength." Brynden jested, making Willmon smile.

"A fair truth. But where your enemy is stronger, bolder or faster; you must be smarter. Casterly Rock will give us a sure footing in the west, and will sever our enemy's resources by a good degree." he explained.

"A daring move." Brynden smiled.

"The Wild Cat has earned his name rightfully. Nevertheless, I will confess that Gerald lacks the caution of his younger brother, and the patience of his sisters. But he is a spirited man, and has had many successes." Willmon breathed, having to acknowledge that his eldest son was a bit more rash than he would have preferred, but he kept to his teachings and followed their ways where he had to, proving himself faithful even in the direst conditions.

"Robb places a lot of trust in you and your son's advice." Brynden reflected, yet without any envy.

"He is our king. We will serve wherever he needs us." he said, stopping in front of his tent.

"I haven't seen your youngest son for a while now." Brynden mentioned, and Willmon turned to face him.

"I've sent him off with his own assignment." he said, noting the smile.

"Negotiating for more men to bring to our cause, perhaps?" the Black Fish hinted, and Willmon sighed. If only... They needed more men, a lot more if they would see success. But there were things that were more important.

"As to that, we will have to see what fate gives us." he said, and Brynden laughed.

"Yes well, as long as its not more rain I will be happy for it." he joked again, and Willmon laughed with him, hiding the thoughts. Rain or swords, they needed a storm. A great one.

"Well, good night to you, ser. We rise again early." the Grey Tom greeted.

"And a fair evening to you as well." the Black Fish returned before moving off to his tent, and Willmon looked up at the sky that was dark and heavy without a single star as gentle drops settled on his face, and he prayed to those who could not see him.

The skies were veiled with grey clouds, but the rain had stopped and the children were allowed to resume their training in the inner bailey, or simply play in the lush gardens. Rychon had fared better sparring against Wymon, but was still frustrated that it felt his skills were not being challenged enough even against a more experienced opponent. Berterin though, had made a point of avoiding Falgon since their encounter in the woods, and would swiftly take his leave whenever the tall sentinel entered any room. This morning, after breaking their fast on honeyed oatmeal with goat milk and fresh fruit Claira made her way through the Hall of Fire with Falgon and Milla at her sides, watching the children rush on ahead to the bailey to resume their training. Most of them issued a greeting as they passed, except for one and Milla regarded her eldest son, not bothering to glance back as they passed by.

"He's afraid of you..." she breathed looking up at Falgon, and saw him staring at the small figures disappearing through the door, wondering what caused such a severe change. He had never so much as scolded the children, and it was worrisome that the boy fled his presence.

"Why?" she had to ask, unable to think of any reason. But Falgon simply shook his head.

"I don't know." he replied softly, honestly baffled. The boys had been well away, they couldn't have seen what he'd done to those men when the rage took him. It just wasn't possible... Then Berin came from the barracks, heading towards them, seeming satisfied. He'd ordered that new recruits assemble around the castle walls, and the count was growing steadily with new members each day and master Austinus took charge of their training until it would be time to leave.

"How are you faring?" Falgon asked him, and he breathed out.

"It won't be a whole lot, but perhaps just enough to make a difference if we're favoured." he mentioned, sounding hopeful.

"You seem optimistic." Claira mentioned, and Berin smiled.

"I try to be. Even one man, can place us in a better position." he said, glancing back at the arch leading to the barracks.

"Berin, do you know why Berterin is acting so different?" Milla asked, and he looked back at her before glancing at Falgon. I saw a monster. It rose right out of him... It was horrible... What he'd seen couldn't be explained, and perhaps it was best left for now.

"Oh, don't worry about him. He'll come around." he tried to ease them, and then a bell. Then two, the tolling of the sentry towers, and again the responsive howling washed over them and Claira's attention went to the great doors. What is it this time..? She tried to harden herself for whatever waited, and then moved off to meet with those who'd come to call with the others following. Emerging into the light of the outside world, two riders entered the castle grounds through the gates and for a moment she was relieved to see their brothers stopping at the base of the stairs where they dismounted and gave their horses to the care of the stables. To her gratitude, they didn't seem to be distressed, albeit perhaps a little pressed for time. Rhegard looked up at her with clear blue eyes as she came down the stairway to greet him, and smiled as she met him with open arms.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as his arms held her gently against him.

"Just visiting." he jested, and looked at Rod next to him equally happy to see his sister.

"Can we get you anything? Seems you've been riding hard for a while." Claira asked as they started heading back into the hold.

"A decent meal would be very much appreciated, my lady." Rod accepted, and Milla led the way to the southern feast hall to have extra servings brought out for them, and they could fully sate their hunger while the others sat with them, sharing small conversation on the happenings over the past few weeks, but intentionally avoided topics regarding the battles. Having heard their uncles had arrived, even the children abandoned their activity to spend the morning with them, well enveloped in Rod's exceptional talent for story telling.

"Are you staying?" Bella asked excitedly from her seat across from her uncle.

"You are very welcome to stay as long as you need. The Fern and Cobalt apartments will be yours; and your clothing may be given to the washhouse." Milla invited heartily.

"Thank you. But perhaps only for a day, or two. Camping is an ill replacement for the comforts of a home. But we have... urgent business to attend to." Rhegard told raising a goblet of fresh grape press to his mouth as he glanced at Rod.

"Yes, of course. Matters of great importance." he agreed, helping himself to a final slice of apple before continuing on with other meagre topics. After having the hall cleared, they left back into the Hall of Fire from where Rod accompanied his sister and her children to the east wing to claim the Cobalt apartment while Rhegard accompanied Claira up the hallways to the maester's tower to redress the wounds to her hands. It was healing, but taking longer than hoped where the Valyrian steel caused deep lacerations. He glanced at her hands, the stains on the palms where moisture still seeped into the linen, and sighed. I'm so sorry, and now I have to do this to you as well... Then he looked up at Falgon just behind them. But best I discuss it with you now... He issued him a timid smile as he paused.

"You will forgive me, ser. I need to speak with my sister alone." he requested as politely as possible, and Falgon looked at her for approval, and she nodded.

"As you wish. I shall return when summoned." he pardoned and then turned and left back town the hallway as they continued on their way up.

"Odd. What is so important that my most trusted must not know?" she asked as they walked, and he glanced at her.

"He will know. I just wanted the opportunity to speak with you privately, which is the reason for our calling here." he told, and then turned to her taking her hands.

"Father and Gerald are attending lord Edmure's wedding to one of lord Frey's daughters; but Rod and I are heading home on father's orders. How are you holding up, Claira?" he asked, truly concerned for her. It was no easy thing to hide the darkness behind her eyes that looked down from his, and the frailty of her being despite her best efforts. Others might not know the extent of it, but he did, yet there was no way of lifting the burden she carried much as he wanted to. But then her eyes came back to his, and she had the strength to smile.

"While no one can prove that he has fallen, I have hope that he'll come back." she finally said, and he shared that with her. There was no doubt in her words. Then he gently wrapped her tender hand over his arm to lead her further up the incline.

"I'm sure he will. And there is another matter I would like to discuss with you, if you wouldn't mind it." he continued, gaining her attention with a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness.

"What is it?" for a moment, she even sounded suspicious if not cautious of the question.

"The war is far from over, and you are a stone throws distance from the borders. Come with me to Pale Haven, you and Rychon. You'll be safe there." he proposed, and she stopped.

"I can't leave Mount Ardor. Not with my husband absent." she declined as he turned to face her.

"Can't your steward hold the castle for you?" he asked, hoping he may convince her.

"I don't have a steward, Metron has been sent to Earndale." she told him, and he paused for a moment's thought.

"Your sentinel, then?" he again tried, and she shook her head.

"He has command of the castle's defence, but as for the governance of the region..." she started, but he would be well capable of managing those things fairly, even in her absence. It was just that, he would not abandon her side for anything; and honestly she did not relish the idea of it either.

"I can't leave the matters of my home and its people to someone else. Besides, he's not a Taugere." she further stated, seeing him stare at her.

"You've forgotten, that Pale Haven is your home, too." he reminded her, and she sighed. It was, but she found it a bitter thing to leave here. I am the lady of Mount Ardor... I must be strong...

"I haven't forgotten, Rhegard. But I'm staying." she refused him again, which he had no other choice but to accept.

"At least let me take Rychon as father's ward, he'll be safe up in the north." he suggested, which made her wonder. Enemies had already tried to come for him here, what if next time they succeeded? Her son had not left the grounds, and the burning mountain was well protected, some would state near to impenetrable by any ordinary means. But, anything could happen... Perhaps somewhere else, somewhere far away where he could not be reached he would be safer. In a place protected by the elements of the seas, shielded by the gods and where any enemies would be left with limited means.

"I might consider that, he is the only heir. However, it may be better if it is known that he is warded with my sister at Hightower. They're far to the south, away from all of this." she agreed, and he squeezed her fingers gently, realizing how hard it must be to make such a decision. To let go of your family... He couldn't imagine sending any of his daughters away to some distant reach.

"Claira, my sweet sister." Gerald was right. She had strength in her, and she had indeed become stubborn. She who had always been the gentlest and most compliant of their family, the first daughter of a small respected house of the north had become the wife of a liege lord and absorbed his great pride and stability.

"I need to make the best decision, for everyone. Please just give me tonight." she asked him, and of course this was no simple choice to make, and he nodded as he proceeded to lead her further up the hall to the maester's tower.

"I won't pretend to know what you're going through." he breathed, there was nothing he could give her and the misfortune was only mounting from any current perspective, and to be left alone... But perhaps, when her husband was found and the war was done they would again see brighter days. And as long as they had their hope, they would not submit to the torture of heartache.

"I'm not alone. I have Maester Adlyn, Milla, Berin and their children, my sentinels, all the others in the castle… And Falgon, of course. He won't let any harm come to me." she tried to ease him, but even her words could not hide the hurt of her heart. He continued to share her company up to the maester, watching as the healer removed the linen, cleaned and dressed the wounds before applying clean linens to her broken palms, satisfied that the injuries were pure and mending; and he gave her some drops for the persistent pain. Rhegard continued to share her company for the day, attending her in matters of their court which Milla had arranged for her to meet the necessary issues, where she to the best of her abilities tried to resolve a land dispute, payment for crops delivered to the stores, sentence of a thief, permission for a young man to enter courtship yet only when the war had seen its end; and a request to be sent to Ramshorn for a sheep herd, delivering with it their price to be met. The remainder of the day was spent inside with knitting, sewing, soft conversation and dancing amidst Falgon's gentle music or in the garden with games and Rod's stories until evening came to a supper of Jeody's roast quail stuffed with pork sausage, breadcrumbs and greens along with sweet wine and berry press, after which they retired to bed. Claira waited while Rychon finished his bath before tending to herself, then sat with him singing her son to sleep, and returning to her own bed. But of sleep there was little as she struggled with her mind, and the thoughts running rampant through her. Would her son not be safest here? Within these strong walls, under guard of their powerful sentinels? Renko, was sworn to protect his life with his own, but Rychon had slipped away from him before, and neither Wymon nor Gavin might fare much better while all of them had families of their own to consider and she would not expect them to abandon their kin in the event they came under siege. Falgon, would never let any harm come to any of them, but he could not be in multiple places at once, and should they be separated she would not force him to choose between the lives of the lady of the hold, and her heir. So much could happen, and every thought brought a bitter sting to her heart; and even more so the notion that she may need to let him go. Somewhere far away, where the war did not reach, they could not reach him either. Oldtown had effectively declared themselves neutral of the war, perhaps on account that gentle Mae had persuaded her husband's family not to rise up against her brother who joined the cause of the north; and they would not be under any obligation to release a child, much less a family member to another. Perhaps, she could send a message to Earndale requesting Darius to have a small vessel prepared to take him safely by sea to Oldtown, an experienced captain who knows the seas and how to avoid enemy threats. And if people knew that the tower was where he was kept safe, they would leave him be if they did not simply keep watch on the activities. But he would be protected there, no harm would come to him as long as he stood under the lord of Hightower's protection... Or so she hoped. Morning came unannounced as she glanced out the open balcony doors to the purple dawn on the horizon, and rather than hate and curse herself for not finding sleep, she stood and rummaged through her wardrobe for a suitable dress, her aching hands slow and clumsy over the fabrics. But at last she chose a dress of sunset gold velvet, a girdle of gold and opal with brown slippers, then struggled her way into a light under dress just fastening the threads when a handmaiden entered to help. Finally dressed, and her hair brushed back held by a pin she departed the lord's chamber to find her son, having to reveal her intention to him. Please... Please understand... she begged in her heart, as much for him as for herself. She found him on his way out from his own chamber where he greeted her, and she took his hands.

"Good morning, my precious boy." he was staring at her, at the darkness under her eyes.

"I... I need to speak with you. Will you sit with me?" her words were soft, and just above the tone of a sob when his hands tightened in hers, and they made their way down to the lord's hall where they shared the wide divan in front of the fireplace, and she told him what must be done. His eyes changed from concern to dismay and anger as he watched her.

"I said I was sorry!" he tried, remembering the day they escaped the castle grounds without permission.

"I promised not to leave again." he said, softer than before.

"This isn't done as a punishment, Rychon." she breathed, and he shook his head.

"Then, why?" he asked, and her hands came to his again.

"I want to protect you. I want to keep you safe. Can you believe that? Can you try to understand that?" she asked, and he stood.

"First I'm not allowed to leave, and now you want to send me away? This is my home!" he cried.

"Please... Please don't-" she started.

"I won't go! I will never leave here!" he yelled, and then fled the lord's wing with his poor pet slung over his arm, and she was left to endure the tears. After a while, she stood and departed the wing herself, finding her sentinel at the doorway.

"You saw my son leaving?" she asked as she looked up at him.

"I did, your grace." then she sighed, and looked down.

"I don't know if it will help, but he usually listens to you. Won't you try talking to him for me?" she asked softly, and he bowed.

"Certainly." then she smiled.

"Thank you. And please have Gavin meet me in the Hollow, I will find him there after maester Adlyn has tended to my hands." she requested, and he nodded.

"As you bid, your grace." Falgon left down the hall to complete his tasks while she ascended the steps to the maester's tower, and waited patiently while he again cleaned and bound her hands. Then she sighed as he replaced the tub.

"Maester Adlyn, I need your help with something else as well." she told, and he came back to her attentively.

"Anything, my lady." he agreed, and she looked up at him.

"I need two of your fastest ravens... and your shrewdest." she started, and he nodded. With the ravens off with their messages, and the start of preparations for a journey under way, she returned down the way to the Hollow where she took a seat at the head of the wide table, awaiting her sentinel. She stared through the window at the pale blue of the morning sky, and the clouds in the distance that caught the orange sunlight, simply hoping that this was the best decision. Moments later Gavin entered the Hollow, and bowed to her.

"You summoned me, my lady?" he presented himself, and she looked at him.

"I did. I have made the decision to allow Rychon to be warded. I want you to accompany him, along with Renko." she told him, attempting to hide the weakness of her voice as he stared at her, taken aback by this sudden choice.

"My lady, my place is here." he insisted, but she forced a smile.

"Your families will be allowed to go with you, of course. But I need you to do this for me. To watch over him, and continue his training as you would each day here, to keep him strong. I don't believe that the training routines there are much like it is here." she explained, followed by a short silence as he searched for words.

"My lady..." but those words would not come easily.

"Please Gavin. I need you to keep him safe for me. The circumstances there may be better than they are here, but I need to be sure." she asked again, closer to a plea as his eyes met hers.

"Please." she begged; of all her sentinels he had been with her the longest, he was one of the very first members she met arriving here from Pale Haven, and lord Rychard had assigned him to her side as he'd done for all of the family. If there was anyone she could trust as much as Falgon, it was him. And then he bowed his head when he understood that.

"As my lady commands." he agreed, lightening her heart and a relieved breath filled her.

"Thank you. You may start your preparations, you will leave early tomorrow morning." she told, and he respectfully took his leave to see to their arrangements. Then, it was time for the rest of them. She left the Hollow for the kitchens to request their morning meal, and coming back into the southern hall her family entered as well from their great hall, where Milla met her with a surprised smile.

"You're early?" she noted, and Claira nodded.

"I had some business to attend to." then she looked at her brother, folding her sore hands in front of her.

"Rhegard, I have considered your proposal and... I believe that it is the best choice. But, with your consent, another group bound for Hightower in Oldtown will join you when you leave, accompanying you as far as the path that will take them to Boatwright." she informed, and he nodded.

"Of course." he agreed, and then his attention went to the doors to the garden where a tall shadow entered, following a boy with a flushed face and a ferret lounged over his shoulders approaching her. He stopped in front of his mother and looked up, his eyes bloodshot and swollen.

"May I speak with you?" he muttered slowly, and she glanced at the others behind them.

"Yes." he seemed more in control of himself than earlier this morning as he led her back to the garden where they sat down on one of the many benches, and just sat in silence for a short time.

"I... I shouldn't make things harder for you. I should respect your feelings..." he started, taking her hand in his.

"I'll do as I'm told." he finally agreed, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"My sweet, I'll never do anything to slight you, or cause you hurt. I just... I want so much to keep you from harm." she whispered as his arms went around her slender waist to hold her.

"I know... I love you, Mama." their arms tightened around one another, desperately as she cursed their final day together for whatever extent may come.

"I love you, my beautiful, precious boy. I love you so much, more than anything in this world..." You are my world! I've had to wait so long for you, and now I must release you... when you are all I have... she whimpered against him, allowing herself a moment's tenderness for him. Could this be what it felt like, to tear a shard from your soul and cast it to the wind? Did it hurt this much? Would it ever come this close?

"My lady?" she looked up, at Milla standing a few feet away on the small garden path.

"I apologise. Jeody will be serving, soon." she announced carefully, and the lady acknowledged her before she returned to the hall.

"Well, let us try to enjoy our morning. And then it is time for you to start preparing your things as well." she sighed, and then stood to pull him to his feet to rejoin the others in the hall, continuing their discussions over a meal of pork sausage, eggs, bread, cheese, mulberries, grapes and pears, with tea and milk. Then, leaving the southern hall Falgon retook his place while Rychon made his way back up to the lord's wing, and Claira stared at him as he vanished into the shadows of the keep.

"What did you tell him?" she asked the tall sentinel next to her.

"Only what he needed to know, your grace." he assured. Their exchange started with a frustrated boy, whom named his mother cruel and selfish. Falgon agreed that she was, but not for the reasons the heir thought. She was selfish for thinking of no one but her son, not even herself and the fact that having to let him go was the most hurtful thing she could do to herself knowing that where he could not be found, he could not be harmed. And cruel for sacrificing her own heart for the sake of his protection, because painful as it was, she believed it to be the best she could do for him. And then he told the boy a story, not all of it of course, but just enough to understand. Had it been in his own power to send his sisters away, they might have lived... and then he cried. They continued preparations of loading wagons with chests, crates and bottles of the company's clothing, books, various other needed effects and enough food for the journeys where they would be in the fields, all while night came much too soon. And this evening, for the last time Claira spent the night with her son, lying next to him where he slept in her arms; but once more sleep would not come for her while she cried silently. She could not alter her decision now, no matter how much she wanted to. Could not surrender to the doubt and the deep ache the tears brought with them. The terrible sorrow that threatened to tear her apart. But she told herself, over and over again that it was the best choice. That it was the safest course. That it was the only way. She rose to a grey dawn before Rychon fully woke, a sky bland and lurid like all of her senses, save for the pounding against her skull as she slowly climbed the steps back to their chamber... or at least for the time being, hers. But she could not bring herself to choose any garments, and sat down on the edge of the bed with a cool palm against her brow, hoping the cold might force off the crippling throb while she tried not to think. Thoughts were too painful. She was exhausted, and her entire body hurt; she wanted to cry again but the tears would no longer come. She couldn't remember ever feeling this drained... She wished that this day had never come, but at the same time that it was over and done with so she could lock herself away and drown in her misery. A soft touch to her arm startled her, and she looked up to see Bella next to her, dressed in elegant raspberry pink with a pearl centre piece and gold detailing over the bodice and sleeves.

"I'm so sorry. I did knock." she quickly pardoned, drawing her hand back.

"Oh... I didn't hear..." Claira breathed as she sat up, and Bella stared at her.

"You look so tired. You should sleep a bit more." she suggested, taking in the almost hardened features.

"It's just a headache. I'll go see maester Adlyn after I get dressed, which I ought to get to. I expect this will be a lively morning." she decided, but found that her limbs were resistive of movement, as if they were weighed down by something.

"Shall I help you?" Bella asked, just a slight excitement in the words. She'd done it once or twice, but normally her mother or the lady's other handmaidens would aid in her apparel.

"I would appreciate that, sweetling." Claira agreed with a weak smile, grateful for the help and watched the girl brighten just a bit as she turned and approached the great wardrobe, opening the wide doors to consider the many possibilities.

"Where is you dear mother?" Claira asked as Bella rummaged through the gowns.

"She is in the southern hall, having it prepared. She has also met with Jeody already for this morning's meal. The men are to leave shortly after." she reported.

"The men?" Claira asked stunned. The groups didn't have any more than four, the rest were women and children; Bella turned back with a free fitting gown of ruby velvet with silver flower detailing embroidered to the neckline and elbows above wide elegant sleeves, and an almost guilty expression as she chose her words.

"My father has decided, that it might be best for them to depart today as well. Go back south and rejoin the war effort." she explained softly, and Claira glanced away.

"I see..." yet another unexpected curve. Then Bella came back to the bed, laying the deep red dress down next to her.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew. They discussed it last night, but-" she tried, then Claira looked at her.

"It's al right. If he believes that is what they must do, then of course they will leave today." she agreed, appearing to ease the gentle green eyes looking at her. She glanced at the dress next to her, it was the same one she'd worn when her husband left to help put an end to the Greyjoy rebellion. The same one she'd worn, when she was still unaware of the gift that lay inside her. The same one. She'd worn in many times again, but how ironic it was now... Bella helped her slowly dress for the day as she struggled through the pain, pulsing relentlessly while she sat waiting for the girl to finish with her hair; Bella certainly took great care with the beautiful marbled waves, gently pulling the brush along the strands until it glimmered before securing two braids at the back with a jewelled pin to hold all together. A sash of silver silk hugged her waist, and she pulled on flat wine red slippers when two chamber maids entered to start on the wing's chores; so leaving them to their duties the ladies left the chamber, passing Rychon's vacant room realizing he'd already left.

"Aunt Claira..." the soft voice sounded in the empty space as they descended the stairs, and she looked at the lovely girl next to her.

"Rychon... He... He'll be al right, where he's going?" she asked, and Claira smiled. Why are you sending him away? Would have been the truer question.

"Oh, yes. It is the safest place he can ever be, I'd like to think. Far away, where no one can find him, where no one may reach him." she told as the deep green eyes met hers.

"And he'll come back?" she asked, as if she just had to and Claira turned to her. She had no love for this morning, any more than she did. Did not look forward to watching him disappear over the horizon.

"Of course, child. When the war is done, and everyone is back home where they belong, he will return as well to one day succeed his father as the lord of Mount Ardor. This is his home, and that will never change." Claira told, like she wanted to convince her. But perhaps, she was trying harder to convince herself than anyone else... Then Bella smiled.

"Then that is good." she agreed. They parted at the great doors of the lord's wing where Wymon awaited them, and Bella returned to the southern hall while Claira made her way up to the maester's tower to ask for drops to ease her headache, and he also tended to her hands.

"Has everything been prepared?" she asked as she watched him wrap clean linen around her palms after cleaning and redressing the wounds.

"Yes, my lady. Everything is in order." he reported, and then gently squeezed her hand as he finished.

"However hard it is, my lady. Don't hate yourself. Don't torture yourself for your decision." he said softly, and she looked up at the deep brown eyes watching her.

"It's so hard, maester..." she whispered.

"I know. But, you are doing the very best that you can." he eased, with a gentle smile.

"He'll be perfectly fine, and will return before long." he tried to reassure her, and she nodded. She wanted to believe, but it did not make her feel any better.

"Thank you, maester." she stood and left, joining her family in the southern hall for their final meal together, sharing idle conversation despite the dark anguish that held them, and trying to prolong it for as long as possible just to make these moments last. Their table was cheerless, but for Rod doing his best to draw a smile from someone; successful only with Berterin and Vaellion. Too soon, master Austinus approached to announce that all was prepared, and their host awaiting departure. The time to leave came when Berin stood with Rhegard and Rod, and the rest followed. In the outer bailey waited two wagons, harnessed to brown geldings. Gavin helped Mandeline along with their children and Panora onto the first wagon while Renko saw to the second wagon and its passengers, and the noble families exchanged their farewells. Berin lingered at the bottom of the steps sparing a moment with his arms around his children, and then his wife as Rhegard and Rod reclaimed their steeds.

"I will return to you." he gave her his promise, and her arms tightened around his neck.

"You always do." she breathed against him, and then he looked at Claira.

"And if the gods hear our prayers, I will bring your lord husband back to you, my lady." he added, and she nodded. As they've had no word from the hunters or any one else regarding a ransom, he meant it, and she'd hold on to those words for as long as it took. Then she looked at Rychon, dressed warmly in dark woollen breeches, comfortable boots and a white tunic under a red quilted doublet with their sigil embroidered on its left breast, a black cloak and his pet over his right shoulder. He looked up at the tall sentinel who'd followed them outside, whom gave his support. But despite it all, Rychon felt extremely hesitant. Then his arms wound around his mother, and he pressed his face against her.

"I don't want to go! I don't want to go, Mama... Father told me to take care of you... I can't do that if I'm not with you..." she held him tightly. I know. I don't want you to go. I don't want to let go of you... But she pushed the burn away. But you'll be safe there...

"Oh, my dear sweet child. I know... I know, but you'll be al right. And don't worry about me, I'll be just fine. It won't be forever..." she comforted him, and then placed her lips tenderly to his brow.

"If you see the stars, think of me and I will be looking back..." she told him, her arms constricting around him one last time before looking at Gavin who'd come up to their side.

"My deepest apologies, my lady." he excused softly, understanding of their heartache but yet the sun would not wait for anyone.

"Come, my lord. The road is long." he advised politely, and she felt his arms tighten around her.

"I love you, Mama..." he breathed against her, and she had to battle against her tears again.

"I love you, my darling baby boy..." she whispered, and yet she was screaming inside. Screaming for the world to burn. Screaming for the winds blow away each of her torments. Screaming for the waters to rise and wash away all of it. Screaming for the earth to break like her heart and swallow everything... I am the lady of Mount Ardor... I... I must be strong... I must... Then she looked down at him. Can I be?

"Take care of Wink." she reminded as her finger touched the furry ear, gently stroking down the pelt.

"I will." Rychon promised, and then reluctantly followed Gavin to the waiting party where he mounted his Nix and took a place between the sentinels who led the wagons through the gate behind Rhegard and Rod, in turn followed by Berin and his company across the bridge. And as they passed, the massed soldiers fell in to follow, on their way to Oakhilt. Claira sank down on the stone steps, heedless of the caring arms around her shoulders as her hands pressed over her face. She would not watch them leave, would no longer maim herself with the last vision of a black river flowing east. Keep him safe for me... would not witness her most precious being taken away from her. I promise, I will... And somewhere down the road, a smaller group would break off to Boatwright to deliver a dark haired boy to a waiting ship, which would carry him to Oldtown.

Lord Willmon stood behind king Robb in the hall of the Twins beside lord Edmure and ser Brynden, his son just behind him where he watched lord Walder seated on his high chair, morning sunlight catching off the few strands of grey hair he still possessed. The towers smelled of mould, old wood and some or another bitter smell. Not quite the same as what was at Riverrun, where it was still murky but notably cleaner.

"My honoured guests. Be welcome within my walls, and at my table. I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the Seven." the old lord announced as trays of bread and salt were brought out by the castle servers, and distributed among the visitors.

"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord." Robb praised as the elderly man took a crust of bread and a pinch of salt from the bowls held out for him, and brought it to his mouth. Then the young king moved forward to better address the lord looking back at them, more resembling of an old tattered vulture on his perch than the scrawny weasel others hinted at when not in his presence. But, Willmon had found him to be a brooding man, quick to anger and not at all short of endurance when remembering a slight. And most probably, he would continue to remember that he too, turned down several proposals for unions of their families.

"I have come to make my apologies, my lord. And to beg your forgiveness." Robb put forth politely, and lord Walder sat back in his chair with its excessively high backrest.

"Don't beg my forgiveness, your grace. It wasn't me you've spurned, it was my girls." he corrected as he motioned forward with his hands, and a number of women and girls stepped down to form lines on either side of the seat above the dais.

"One of them was supposed to be queen, and now none of them are." he said, and then proceeded to name each of his many daughters and granddaughters, some twins and some as young as ten years of age. One or two names an uncertainty to him, but then there were so many.

"My ladies. All men should keep their words. Kings most of all. I was pledged to marry one of you, and I broke that vow. The fault is not with you. Any man would be lucky to have any one of you. I did what I did not to slight you, but because I loved another. I know these words cannot set right the wrong I have done to you and your house. I beg your forgiveness, and pledge to do all I can to make amends so the Freys of the Crossing and the Starks of Winterfell may once again be friends." Robb addressed, regarding each of them as Walder brought his hands together.

"Very good." then his eyes fell on Talisa with a shrewd smile.

"There she is. Come closer, let me have a look at you." he called her forward, and she took two tentative steps forward as the old man leaned over for a better look.

"Still can't see you. Old eyes..." lord Walder urged, and she glanced back at Robb who nodded while muffled murmurs sounded in the silence of the space. Another few steps followed, surer than a moment ago and she bowed slightly to present herself as Walder sat back again, satisfied with the vision in front of him.

"Love? That's what the Starks of Winterfell call it, eh?" lord Walder asked as he chuckled, his eyes sparing a glance at the King in the North.

"Very honourable. I call it a pretty face. Hmmm, very pretty. Prettier than this lot, that's for sure. Very shapely as well." he continued, still with the same strange smile. Willmon felt his fingertips turn cold, suspicious that his intentions were not amiable.

"Oh, you try to hide her under that dress. If you wanted to hide her, you shouldn't have brought her here in the first place." he directed at Robb before leaning forward again to examine the girl in front of him, his eyes running over every curve from her lovely deep brown eyes to the fine curve of her hips.

"I can always see what's going on beneath a dress. I've been at this for a long time. I'd bet when you take that dress off, everything stays right were it is. Don't drop an inch." he further explained, watching her with fell shining eyes.

"Your king says he betrayed me for love. I say he betrayed me for firm tits and a tight fit." came his brutal conclusion, leaving a foul flush and sour sting in the very air around them; and in a moment of rage Robb moved forward but his mother's hand quickly grabbed at him to stay his anger.

"And I can respect that." Walder quickly added raising a hand in an attempted gesture of pardon, but it was an impassive motion.

"When I was your age, I'd have broken fifty oaths to get into that, without a second thought." he told with a wry smile as he indicated the queen, and after another moment that he examined her his attention went over the other faces of the hall, allowing her to return to her place.

"Well, I've enough room in the hall for you lot. We'll set up tents with food and ale for the rest of your men." he advised, but the king's eyes were hard and resentful.

"Thank you, my lord." he forced from his chest, battling with the odious tone of the words. And then lord Frey came to his feet, again bringing his hands together loudly.

"Well, let's get ready! The wine will flow red! And the music will play loud! And we'll put this mess behind us." he declared over his court for all to hear, and the preparations followed. They were presented fitting chambers in the towers, small spaces but a softer bed than what they had in the fields. Willmon had his men concentrated on the south-western quarter of the camp site, the soldiers happy for a better day. The celebration of a wedding, and a new life was a welcome turn from a battle, or digging graves. But still he could not fully enjoy these grand events while the silence endured, slowly filling him. They should have heard from someone by now. Anyone. He walked back to the towers alone as Gerald remained behind promising to rejoin him later, lingering regarding arrangements with Derric and Edur who had decided not to enter the fortress and rather remain with their units, moving down along the stale corridors he noticed a horde of servants and scullions cleaning the feast hall and positioning tables on either side of the chamber, their jovial discussions sounding off the walls. But it was a cold thing that he was unable to absorb the merriment from the atmosphere, from the others. The best he could hope for was to endure the ceremony, and to be off again with sunrise albeit on their own to meet the mass again elsewhere; cursing himself for the cruel rise of jealousy he felt that they should have these blessings where they gained, while his family had seen loss for their cause. Where is he? Why..? Still now, there's nothing. Who took him? What are they doing to him? How are they planning to approach us? Are they planning anything at all? Why..? Then he stopped suddenly, looking up to meet the mismatched green and white eyes of his friend.

"My lord." he acknowledged him courteously, and Willmon managed to smile.

"Luitpold. How are you finding the Twins?" he asked, hoping that it might direct his thoughts elsewhere.

"It's a fine creation. Although, some of the chambers are a bit small." he returned, and joined Willmon's walk down the passage sharing their memories as they would wait for this evening's celebration.

Deep into the night when the castle had already slipped into the still of sleep, Claira stood in the vanilla bath, trying to keep her mind and focusing on the ridges of the tiles beneath her feet. She'd sought out the warmest point of the waters, which was far to the back behind the column from which the water flowed; and now felt the scalding liquid spilling over her back and shoulders, but it still did not make her feel any warmer. She'd started taking a few glasses more of water, press or even wines throughout the day, just to fill the empty space in her, but still it did not make her feel any fuller. The last close comfort she had within these walls, was Milla and her children. Berin had left the castle with a count of thirty guards remaining behind, but before he'd gone he'd tended to their rounds which will be centralized around the front of the hold, and he was both surprised and pleased of the notion to include the hounds in the patrols, further encouraging this. Yet now, only two sentinels remained at the keep. Master Austinus would continue accepting members as he did before, but recruitment had dwindled down severely. Then she glanced up, she must have been standing here for a good while, judging from the scarlet to her skin and abandoned the waters after cleansing herself. Milla had offered to share the lord's wing with her as before, now that Rychon had also gone. But not wanting to disturb the children she respectfully declined, and their wing was as silent as it has ever been with no life save for hers. She stood in front of the hearth of the hall, confused and lonely. What do I do now..? Above the hearth Quill waited patiently for his master's return, and the golden phoenix seemed to take flight to the skies, in search of his lord. What do I do now..? The heat had left her long ago, and there remained little hope of regaining it. Slowly her hand came up, tracing the edge of the delicate heart pendant. Always... Even just a little bit... She turned and thought of heading up to her chamber, and giving herself to the bed to wait out the night whether sleep would come to her or not, it might be better than standing in the hall the entire night; but found herself going down to the Hall of Fire, and passing the bright glow of the great hearth on her way to the barracks. What do I do now? She found him, where he always was.

"Falgon..." he stood and faced her as she stared at him.

"How will I serve, your grace?" he bowed to her gracefully. What do I do now..?

"How is your Galeo?" she started, and he smiled.

"Older, but still strong, your grace. And while I am grateful that your kind stable master takes so good care of him, I may easily find another when I must." he said, and she nodded. Could I really do this?

"May I ask you... to do something for me?" she whispered looking down from his eyes.

"Anything, your grace. If it is within my power." he agreed, and she laughed secretly. You're a man, Falgon. One of my strongest. Of course it is within your power...

"Please, do not think ill of me." she again asked, softly as he examined her.

"Never." then she looked up at him, unsure of how to issue her request as he waited patiently. But suddenly her chest ached as she thought better of it.

"Actually... Don't mind me. I'm being silly." she quickly excused, turning to head back.

"Your grace." she paused as his words met her.

"I am here, to serve you. Irrespective of all else." he told softly, like he understood exactly why she'd braved the cold dark of the castle this late. Then she looked back.

"Could you... Will you hold me? Just a little while..." he stared at her for a moment, surprise in his striking eyes. Perhaps he wasn't expecting that? But then he smiled, the way he always did as he bowed his head, and moved forward.

"Of course..." his powerful arms wrapped gently around her, and he simply held her as she stood against him, feeling the burn of her open shoulders above a light green dress to his skin. Time passed, exactly how much was unaccounted for. Movement made him look up to see a small group of guards passing through, stopping to stare at them for a moment before quickly vanishing through the doorway and he smirked.

"You are not concerned, for what the others might think?" he asked softly, wondering if she noticed them at all.

"No. Not right now, at least..." she breathed, remaining exactly as she was against him, and then she sniggered.

"The Lannisters are fond of their expressions. Years ago, following my husband's melee against ser Jaime, I heard lord Tywin tell his son, that 'the lion does not concern himself with the opinions of the sheep'. The same may be true for the phoenix, once in a while..." she said softly, slightly leaning against him as she eased and he looked up, at a distant moon far beyond the window as he thought.

"The phoenix does not concern himself with the opinions of the penguins?" he attempted to recreate it, and she looked up at him confused.

"What is a 'penguin'?" she asked him, and he laughed. Of course, they would not know them here.

"A flightless bird of the sea. Quite common in colder regions." he explained, and she nodded as she resumed her former position.

"I was thinking more of pigeons, but penguins will do..." she agreed, and then breathed in deeply against him, bringing with it his scent of earth that was oddly calming. He made her feel better, even if it was just a little bit. But still it was not enough, and it would not last for long.

"I'd like to see one, some day." she mentioned, feeling his hands gently run up and down the length of her back in soothing motions.

"Some day, I'll go and catch you one. He can be your pet." he offered, and she laughed.

"I have a pet..." she declined, and his hands paused as he looked down at her.

"Really?" he found himself intrigued, he'd not seen any pets in the castle save for the heir's ferret; the others were the dogs and the steeds.

"Falgon..." he heard her voice against him, still wondering.

"Yes?" she pressed herself against him slightly, just enough for him to feel it.

"Shut up..." he laughed, secretly. She wasn't angry or irritated, she was blushing he knew because she would not look at him. He was her pet, by any measure. This great hulking mass with a mind... but if he had the sense the gods gave a penguin, he'd stay well and far away from her... Yet for all her suffering, this was a gentle moment for her in the chaos, and he granted her that.

"Would he forget me, if he is no longer in this world?" she asked suddenly as she looked up at him. It was an honest question, one he believed deserved an answer as honest as he could give it.

"No. I think you'd forget small things, like the taste of blueberries in spring, the smell of roses on a summer breeze, the sound of wind across ocean waves, the pain of a bee sting. You'll never forget the things that were important to you." he told her with his gentle smile.

"But, please try not to think of such things. You will have proof before you accept anything." he encouraged her, and felt the small motions of a nod against him before releasing her again.

"Come, your grace. I will escort you back to the wing. Try to find some sleep, it's late." he suggested, and walked with her back to the great door of the empty wing.

The hall was packed with people, singing and talking and laughing as a throng of servers roamed up and down with pitchers of wine, drinking horns and plates of foods, the surfaces spread with selections of breads, cheeses, fish, vegetables, fruits, nuts and flavourings. Lady Catelyn Stark shared a table with ser Brynden Tully and lord Roose Bolton while the King in the North sat next to his queen at a table adjacent to them, and lord Willmon Tormont, lord Luitpold and Gerald surrounded the corner of a table behind them; most of the other guests came and went and exchanged seats at their pleasure, occasionally one of his own bondsmen blending with the others. The wedding was pleasant, the ritual held in the small sept of the Twins, a place that needed some work for its age. But Roslin Frey turned out to be a very pretty girl, and the change of expression on lord Edmure's face was something indeed memorable. Willmon looked down at the table with the selections of foods with a small smile. For just an instant, that moment made him remember the evening that he removed the maiden's veil from his own daughter. What a wonderful time that was... Times without grief, without strain, a time when their family grew. A time he gave his most precious to marriage, and a day he gained a son whom they still held hope of finding. You still have four sons... Then he looked up at the faces around him, Gerald and Luitpold conversing on more pleasant topics, like Citrine Arch's continuous supply of sunflower seeds to most of the North, for that was the only region the great yellow flowers grew abundantly; and the ever present caul covering Pale Haven that initially gave the White Hold its name. A place that was always safe, it was protected by the old gods of the north... Yet it remained frustrating and dejecting that he could not soak up the enjoyable atmosphere that surrounded them, and it seemed he could hear everything. From lord Bolton's mention of his own recent marriage, to the queen's confession of her fondness for her bold mother by law, and further to the back someone's drunk boast that if he found Lann's ghost in Casterly Rock after they took it, he'd put him to rest properly. How circumstances changed people. He'd sent a runner off again before twilight, just to keep an eye on things. Perhaps he was foolish, and wanted to believe as much. That the sudden loss and uncertainty had made him overcautious, perhaps a bit more. He wanted to tell himself that there was no reason to be this reserved, to feel this uneasy; to be so distrustful... He was simply being odd.

"Your grace!" lord Walder's voice sounded over the hall, drawing all attention to him as fists hammered down on the surfaces of the long wood tables and slowly fell into silence once his hand was raised.

"The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak." he announced, followed by some expressions of praise.

"But, they are not yet man and wife! A sword needs a sheath." he continued with a noticeable teasing tone before laughing loud and merrily, and more remarks and sniggers rose from corners of the hall.

"And a wedding needs a bedding! What does my sire say?" he directed at Robb, the guests in the hall hailing him as they pounded full, half and empty goblets on the tables to create a glorious noise, calling for the bedding. Then Robb stood and stepped forward to face the elderly lord.

"If you believe that the time is right, lord Walder. By all means, let us bed them." he agreed, and the hall exploded with excited cacophony and the music continued. Willmon sat back, his people remaining and leaving such doings to those more at ease with this custom, and noticed the queen staring at Robb. Stunned, confused and perhaps shocked for the current occurrence as a throng of men seized the young bride from the table, lifting her into the air onto their shoulders while the women led lord Edmure from the table in turn. She watched as they carried the girl off, bits of garment flying as they laughed, and vanished from the hall, and others followed behind the couple with candles, leaving the hall a degree darker than it was before. Gerald looked at Talisa, rounding the table to stand next to Robb, then slowly leaned towards him.

"That is a very strange custom." she said softly, and he glanced at her.

"I suppose it does seem strange from a foreigner's perspective." he agreed with a slight laugh. Gerald could understand her thoughts, it wasn't something they were used to despite it being something commonly practised here. Being from a family closer connected to the old gods and the old ways, he and his youngest siblings were spared bedding ceremonies. He understood that in respect Claira's was gentle, and she never complained. Others might not be that fortunate.

"It seems normal to you?" Talisa asked as Robb smiled at her.

"It's tradition." he told, and turned towards her.

"Without the bedding ceremony, there's no real proof the lord and lady have consummated their marriage." he tried to explain, but she laughed taking his hand and laying it on her stomach, which only just started to show.

"But there are other ways of providing proof." she reminded, and it seemed that all other thoughts vanished to him.

"Boy or girl?" he asked eagerly, and she paused, watching him with happy shining eyes.

"I don't know. But if it's a boy, I know what we should name him." she hinted, and he laughed with a wry grin.

"Oh, do you? It seems to me that the father should have some say in his son's naming." he challenged it, but her easy smile never faded.

"Eddard." he remained staring at her, all thought of any other names fading as she smiled.

"Don't you want to teach little Ned Stark how to ride horses?" she asked softly, and his arms went gently around her waist.

"I do." Gerald looked back at the table, thinking how happy he was for them. Or at least, how happy he should have been for them... Then he noticed something, that was out of place. A shadow next to his father, a boy of perhaps sixteen dressed in light black leather leaning low and whispering. It wasn't the presence that was alarming, but the look in his father's eyes when the boy stood and vanished the way he came. Then Willmon stood and whistled, and like cats to a bell, their bondsmen fled the hall, while others stared at them in puzzlement; their last actions discarded mid way where goblets were abandoned half consumed, knives still stuck half in whatever they were severing, and pieces of food lodged to the prongs of the forks that were bound for hungry mouths. To others, who did not know it was simply a minuscule high-pitched sound, but to the Tormonts and their people, it meant only one thing, and was equal to the forbidding cry of a warhorn summoning them to battle. Gerald followed along as shadows and light passed them in blurred instances, his heart pounding in his ears all the way down to his stomach.

"Father?" he asked urgently.

"We have to go, right now." the lord told as they departed the river stronghold, relieved that his message carried quickly and their men were already moving through the gate back to the encampment.

"What's going on? What's happening?" Gerald asked, desperate for more information.

"Assemble our men, we ride north immediately." Willmon instructed as they hurried along to where their men, and the sentinels were waiting. But Gerald suddenly took hold of his arm, slowing their haste but not stopping.

"Father, what is it?" he asked and Willmon's eyes met his son's, breathing out and relieving himself of some of the jagged coldness that thrust through his body the moment the boy had come to him. He was a Tormont, but if he did not know whom the threat was aimed at, he could not help.

"Riders are moving for the Corridor. Some thousand men at least." Willmon revealed, and Gerald's expression changed from fright to determination.

"They're aiming for Mount Ardor?" he asked, and they continued on their way, part walk part run to reach the others.

"More than likely. Claira is alone there." Willmon breathed, suddenly realizing the truth of it. She would never have left the burning mountain, no matter how much her brother begged and reasoned. She would wait for her husband to come home until the end of time. Then he glanced back at the towers spanning the river, whom would not simply open the gates for a battalion to pass in their current state. Why would they? They had better things to do.

"We won't be able to cross here." he calculated, and then felt Gerald's hand on his shoulder guiding him along.

"We will make for Broken Pass, it may save us half a day at least." he suddenly suggested as they crossed the edge of the eastern square of the camp site, their men already gathering up what they could, dousing the fires, saddling and mounting horses. Derric and Edur already mounted and waiting on their units, having easily integrated themselves with the cats.

"It may be flooded." Willmon warned, and Gerald looked back at him. The resolve behind his blue eyes clear, burning like candle flames.

"We will have to take that chance. We'll use ropes to tether the horses across... We cannot allow them to reach the castle." he determined, and Willmon could smile, melting the stricken ice in his veins. Gerald had unconventional methods, and was sometimes reckless. But perhaps in light of these circumstances, that was exactly what they needed above everything else. He'd left a brief message with a Winterfell soldier in their passing, merely stating that if they had success, they would return. They could not wait, but Robb would understand.

"Take our lead, Gerald."