It's so strange to think it's June now and that, at least for us in the UK, it's the last month that Covid will have an impact on us living our day to day lives. I can't wait to get back to normal, nor can I wait for the Euros which England are one of the favourites for!

But on to this story and we are getting closer to the finish line. Providing I can keep up with writing a chapter a week the last chapter is scheduled for the last Friday of August, and between now and then there are still lots of shocks to come…

I own nothing but any OC's. All the actual characters and locations are the property of George R R Martin or HBO.

The courtyard of the castle wasn't the same. New wooden structures had replaced the ones that Jon remembered, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. Then again, on some of the stone towers he could still see remnants of scorch marks and the thought of his home burning almost brought a tear to the tired man's eye. Ahead of him Wun Wun was panting, having sat down to catch his breath and remove some of the stray arrows piercing his skin. It was a sight to behold walking through and seeing the Bolton and Dustin guards staring in a mix of bewilderment and fear at the giant barely gazing at them, but Jon quickly shook that from his mind as he walked through, the rest of his forces trailing behind him.

"Go through the castle." Jon ordered. "Find Roose Bolton, bring him to me."

Men in Karstark and Manderly heraldry went rushing through the castle at pace as Jon began the process of taking the swords and weapons of all the castle's previous defenders. The pile of steel was growing when after ten minutes or so a group of Manderly men were leading a woman and two Dustin guards, those guards carrying a body. Jon walked over curiously and watched as the body was dumped on the floor.

"Roose Bolton." Harald Karstark snarled from a few yards away, and the Lord of Karhold closed the gap and spat on the body.

Jon looked between the Manderly soldiers and the woman. "What happened?"

"He allowed that monstrous bastard to kill my nephew and get away with it." The woman growled. "He was always going to die today."

Jon looked at the woman questioningly, but it was little Lyanna Mormont, the young girl looking a fearsome sight with blood staining her armour and her face, that spoke up. "Lady Dustin. A surprise to see you turn your cloak once more given your support of Lord Bolton before now."

Barbrey Dustin smiled a wry smile. "I lost men too at the Twins, Lady Mormont, as well as my Father and my eldest brother. I just chose to stay close to Bolton instead of insult him and risk both my life and those of my other brothers." She nodded at Rickard Ryswell who had also joined them. "Once we received word of Lord Stark's survival, we decided to make sure for ourselves before betraying Bolton."

"You couldn't have fucking done that earlier." Karsi snarled from a distance.

"The dead will be mourned, all of them." Jon said firmly. "But we cannot be divided any longer and let the Bolton's and the Lannister's continue to win petty victories against us. This is an important moment, but it is but the first step." He looked down at Roose Bolton's corpse. "Take the head, place it on the walls next to his son. Then burn the bodies."

Two Glover men did exactly that, but the outrage from some of the Northmen at the command was shown almost immediately. "Burn the bodies? You defile them!" A Dustin man cried.

"You southerners haven't seen what they'll become if you don't do as Lord Crow says." Karsi said darkly. "He is right."

"Winter is coming." Jon said coldly. "And the dead come with it."

Quiet mutterings filled the courtyard, but the statement would be left unanswered as the Karstark men returned then with a terrified woman holding a small bundle. Jon grimaced as they made their way over to Harald Karstark. "My Lord, Lady Bolton."

"Do your Wildling friends like feeding on babies, Jon Snow." Harald Karstark laughed. Jon cut him off with a firm glare and he walked over briskly.

"They will remain unharmed, Lord Karstark." Jon told the man.

"Aye, fuck off Karstark." Robett Glover shook his head. "The sins of the father aren't those of the son… or daughter." Glover turned to Jon Snow and nodded. "Keep them here, under guard, Snow. Raise the girl with House Stark and you may yet end the legacy of the Red King's."

The political aspect of keeping the baby alive hadn't even registered with Jon if he was honest, but he nodded. "Aye." He turned to Lady Dustin at that point. "And add guards to Lady Dustin and Lord Ryswell's doors. You have done us a fine service My Lord, My Lady, but you still fought against us, and it isn't up to me to let you or Lord Ryswell roam free."

Barbrey pursed her lips but she nodded all the same. "I know the way." She said unfeelingly, and she led her younger brother away, followed by Manderly men to ensure their good behaviour.

There was only one last thing to do before Rickon showed up, and Jon made sure that he was the one to go and do it. Standing at the top of one of the towers flanking the East Gate he used Longclaw to cut down the Bolton banner adorning the walls before he was handed the colours of his brother's house, the snarling grey Direwolf head that he had once longed to wear as his own banner. Partially smiling, Jon threw the banner over the wall, standing atop it as he let the fabric settle against the grey stone and say proudly that Winterfell was in the hands of the Starks once more.

If his campaign in the Riverlands had been a quickfire success, then Loren definitely could not say the same about his and Loras' joint efforts in the Dornish Marches. After an initial charge was halted by the ever-immovable Dornish forces the Reach army with Loren at its head had retreated back to Nightsong licking its wounds, where as soon as the Western forces had arrived they managed to successfully push back an ambitious Dornish attempt at taking the Stormlander castle. From then it became a war of attrition, with each host attempting to outmanoeuvre the other, to no avail.

Then word had reached the castle of House Caron of a new Dornish force mustering close to the Boneway with the new Lord Dayne at its head, and so Loras having feel chastened by the young Dornishman at the parlay insisted that he lead the defence, so the Reach forces had left, leaving Loren alone with the Western men in the struggle to counter Prince Trystane.

That had been the status quo for at least a fortnight however, until Loren was awoken early one morning at an announcement of a set of riders. Rushing to get his armour on, the Lord of Casterly Rock didn't take long to find himself in the main hall of Lord Caron with a number of his bannermen staring down a dark haired Kingsguard knight that he didn't recognise.

"Lord Loren." The Kingsguard knight greeted him.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Ser…" Loren trailed.

"Ser Osfryd Kettleblack, milord." The man said. It wasn't a name that Loren recognised.

"Who of the Kingsguard has perished?" Ser Lyle Crakehall asked at one side.

Kettleblack bowed his head mournfully. "I'm afraid to say much has happened in King's Landing in your absence, My Lord. Ser Burton, Ser Preston and Ser Boros are dead."

Loren gasped audibly. "So many? What happened?"

"Murder, yet more murder." The white cloaked knight explained. "King Tommen is dead, assassinated by the Dornish."

That knocked Loren, and he brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any emotion that threatened to escape. "Is this true?" He said quietly. Ser Osfryd nodded, handing out a piece of parchment. Loren took it quickly and snapped open the seal, reading the familiar writing of Grand Maester Pycelle. With every word, his frown grew. "This is a mummers farce." He scoffed amusedly. "What is this?"

"The express command of Her Grace, Queen Cersei, My Lord." Osfryd explained, and the scoffs and outraged shouts from the Western banners were as loud as anything.

"Myrcella is our Queen now!" Ser Benarr Prester roared over everyone. "Who does this poxy knight think he is bringing words of the Queen Mother?"

Osfryd shook his head. "The traitor Myrcella has fled after being accused of aiding the Dornish assassins."

Loren's amused look then fell, and his scowl was biting. "So my aunt writes this as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?" He asked.

"Queen Cersei was crowned by the High Septon before I was tasked to ride to give you your new orders, My Lord." Osfryd explained. "I believe the exact term used was 'instruct my nephew to raze Sunspear to the ground for all the death they have brought upon us'. She has also purchased the Golden Company to aid you in this task, My Lord."

Voices then became raised as the Western Lords had their say. Some were eager to do as Cersei Lannister had told them to, while others were still curious as to why it was Cersei giving the orders in the first place. Lambert Turnberry was one of the latter. "This doesn't sit right with me, My Lord." He said over the noise of everybody else. "The King is dead and his sister flees, so his Mother puts herself on the Throne? By what right?"

Agreements followed that, though there still were some dissenters. "If Queen Cersei has been anointed by the High Septon, then that makes her our Queen does it not? Let us do as bid and end the Dornish menace once and for all."

"If we rush into agreeing a contested succession too early then we run the risk of prolonged war." Loren explained. "As far as I am concerned, all I have are the words of a woman scorned by her daughter that said daughter is a traitor. I know not the truth to this, but I know my cousin and I know my aunt." He rose from his chair, thankful for his adult height that now put him taller than most men. "Thank you, Ser Osfryd. But you can return to King's Landing and instruct the Queen Mother that until I see proof of my cousins misdeeds I consider myself pledged to Queen Myrcella, of the House Baratheon."

Osfryd looked wroth. "My Lord…"

"That will be all." Loren raised his voice, turning his back on the new Kingsguard knight and retuning to Lord Caron's chair. Once he was sat down he watched as Osfryd bit down an inevitably rude response and turned, leaving the room briskly.

Silence followed the slamming of the door, and Loren just raised a hand to massage his temples as the reality settled in. "Somebody fetch some wine, I must drink to the memory of my cousin."

"My Lord…" A nervous voice sounded. Loren looked up and saw his Grandfather, Lord Crakehall, looking concerned up at him. "Cersei will not be pleased at your response."

Loren sighed. "No, I suppose not." He stood up once more and walked around the gathered Lords and knights. "But do any of you believe her? Do any of you wish to fight for Queen Cersei? Because if you do, then I give you leave to go to King's Landing now." Nobody moved a muscle. "You can all see it too then. My aunt has withheld truth from us at the very least and lied to us at the worst. Until we know the truth, then Red Rain and I fight for Queen Myrcella, as I hope you all do here." He was grateful for the assenting murmurs.

"As do the Dornish, lest we forget." Lambert explained. "What do we do now? Do we abandon Nightsong to the Dornish? Do you fight your own kin to place Myrcella on the Iron Throne?"

They were very good questions, and Loren didn't have any answers. "I don't know my friend." He told the room honestly. "But I do know one thing. I must have words with Prince Trystane once more. If we fight for the same ruler now, then perhaps further bloodshed can be spared."

After a flag of truce had been sent to nearby the Dornish defensive lines, both parties once again met on the hill that housed 8 graves, though this time Loren had only Lambert and Ser Lyle at his back and Trystane had the same Manwoody and Qorgyle men that Loren had seen the last time. Things were slightly more tense after the weeks of slow fighting, and both sides were waiting for the other to talk first.

Biting his pride, Loren opened his mouth. "King Tommen is dead."

Trystane bowed his head. "I am sorry to hear that. I do not mourn him for myself, but I understand how Myrcella felt about him. She spoke often and fondly of her brother."

That gave Loren more answers than he had hoped for. "So you didn't have anything to do with it? Cersei lies?"

Trystane stared coldly at the Lannister. "If you have brought us back here to trade insults…"

"I only wish to know the facts, Trystane." Loren told him exasperatedly. "All I have heard is that now Cersei sits the Iron Throne because Tommen was murdered by the Dornish and Myrcella is in league with you. I don't believe it, but I have to be sure."

Trystane scoffed. "We have nothing to do with his death, nor your Father's. All we in Dorne are guilty of is being killed by Lannisters."

"Then we both fight for the same Queen." Loren explained, ignoring the inflammatory jibe. "We both fight for Myrcella."

"It is not that simple." Trystane told him. "I fight for Myrcella yes, but I also fight to see my Aunt avenged, my Uncle avenged, my cousins avenged… there can be no peace until I have the blood of those responsible…"

"Ser Gregor Clegane murdered Princess Elia and Prince Aegon on the orders of my Father, and he was slain by your Uncle in a plot overseen by my Father again." Loren admitted, wanting an end to all of this. "Ser Armory Lorch stabbed Princess Rhaenys on the orders of my Father and he is inside Nightsong now, if you are that insistent on prolonging this debate even longer then I will have him chained and sent to you." That surprised Trystane and the others in the Dornishman's party. "Nymeria resisted arrest, despite your opinions on that her death was unfortunate but justified by all the laws of the land given that she fought back with a view to kill."

"And Obara? You had your hand in that…" Trystane growled.

"Was found guilty of murdering the Hand of the King, I will not apologise for that." Loren explained. "But the deaths of your family were brought about by my Grandfather, who is dead, my father who is also dead, and Cersei Lannister, who sits on the Iron Throne that belongs to Myrcella." Trystane thought for a moment before he whispered to his men. Loren waited patiently for the Dornish Prince to finish, but with each second he grew more frustrated. "Cersei is our enemy, Trystane. We may never be friends after everything that our families have put each other through, but we share a common goal."

"I will need to speak to my Father." Trystane said slowly. "How do we know that this isn't a plot to lower our guard for your victory? I've heard rumours about the massacre at the Twins…"

"Because when Ser Armory is delivered to you, I will go with you as a guest until our forces are allied and joined once more." Lambert input from beside Loren. The Lannister Lord swivelled around quickly in surprise, but the red head just waved his hand. "I am one of My Lord's bannermen and closest friends, he would not agree to this if he had plans to betray you."

Loren was stuck, he knew some of the horrors the Dornish put their hostages through, but he couldn't refuse if he wanted to focus on where the true fight lay. Sighing, he nodded. "Ser Lambert will travel with you to Sunspear."

The Lannister Lord could see that Trystane was equally as surprised as he was relieved, but he nodded his assent. "Fetch me the child killer, and we will have a truce. I make no promises about fighting beside you to place my beloved on her throne however, that decision lays with my Father."

That was enough for Loren now, and he nodded his head as he dropped his sword belt and stepped forwards, offering out his arm. Trystane studied him for a moment before he dropped his own spear and did the same, the pair shaking hands awkwardly atop the small cliffside beside the graves as they brought in a tense peace between the nations.

Sansa Stark was glad that she was travelling inside the large silver gilded ironwood wheelhouse owned by Lord Wyman Manderly judging by the smell as they grew closer to the Wintertown. If the smell of burning bodies was this bad, then she was glad that the sight was completely hidden to her. She held her newly two-year-old son in place on her lap as the wheelhouse bounced and rocked down the road, not joining in on the conversations with her mind focusing on returning home for the first time since she had left with King Robert.

The wheelhouse came to a stop eventually, and she could hear the servants rushing around to open the doors for them. Of course she allowed Lord Wyman to depart first, closely followed by Lady Wylla, but Sansa followed her sister-by-law out and smiled despite herself. Things were different yes, but she welcomed the gentle snow falling down on her face as she stared around the castle of her childhood.

Jon was lined at the front with Rickon at his side, a number of Northern Lords and Ladies also gathered in a procession reminiscent of King Robert's own greeting to Winterfell. Sansa greeted each one, some looking more nervously at her blonde son than others, but finally after Lady Wylla had greeted Rickon, Sansa had a chance to. She hugged her younger brother with her free arm, before doing the same with Jon. "My Lord." She greeted Rickon.

"Welcome home." Rickon said slowly, as if he had been coached as to what to say. "Please, let us go inside and fill our bellies."

Sansa grinned, nodding at her youngest sibling. "Lead the way, My Lord."

And a grand feast had been prepared. Sansa found herself sat next to Jon as she laughed at Wyman Manderly's enthusiasm as well as being kept enthralled by little Lyanna Mormont's retelling of the battles. As the eating and drinking was in its full swing Jon leaned over. "We lost 3,000 men." He told her quietly. "Ser Marlon and Lord Ondrew among them."

Sansa sighed sadly. "Grave losses." She admitted. "But they died for a just cause, a good cause. They shall not be forgotten. The North Remembers."

Jon looked uneasy at that statement, but he nodded all the same and returned to his food. Sansa kept her eyes on some of the Lords she hadn't met before. Harald Karstark was glaring at her boy far too regularly for her liking, and Sansa noticed that Ned Umber, the boy Lord of Last Hearth, was laughing with Rickon at whatever Shaggydog was doing. The final pair that Sansa made sure to keep a close eye on were in a corner, as Lady Dustin and her two surviving Ryswell brothers sat away from the central action.

The eating soon slowed down however, and as the servants came to take plates away the scraping of wood on stone was heard, and Lord Manderly stood up, silencing the room. "My Lords, My Ladies." He announced. "It brings me great joy to be sat here with all of you today. For years we have bowed and bent to the Bolton's, turncloaks and traitors the lot of them! Our fathers and mothers, our sons and daughters, all dead at their hands while they make a mockery of the North. We mourned our losses, but then we started our plots. Multiple different ones at first aye, but it showed that the North Remembers! And the North Resists!" Sansa smiled as the attendees that had drunk the most all cried out their approval at the words. "We were fortunate, aye. Fortunate that Lord Rickon here survived the Burning of Winterfell and managed to get to loyal lands." Manderly pointed his goblet at Ned Umber. "Fortunate that our beloved Lady Sansa slayed the monster that arranged the Massacre at the Twins with her own bare hands and escaped to come back to us!"

"Fortunate that Jon Snow saved the fucking Wildlings." Karstark begrudgingly admitted, getting a laugh and a hearty pat on the back by one of the Free Folk. "That giant is a formidable weapon."

"Fortunate for a great many things." Wyman agreed. "And now is the time to rebuild. The Bolton's tried to break traditions and force themselves higher than they belonged, and now we can all pledge once more to Lord Stark and settle the North before Winter truly hits us."

"The Lord Stark you have as your puppet?" Someone in the colours of House Lightfoot cried out. "While the other son of Lord Eddard led us to victory!"

Sansa saw Wyman's cheeks redden in anger, but someone else nodded their agreement. "Aye." Lord Karstark admitted. "This winter will be long and brutal, and worse if Snow's words have anything to do with it." Sansa then noticed Jon sigh in resignation. "We need a strong leader!"

"And you have one!" A wildling woman that Sansa didn't recognise cried out. "None of you saw what the little Lord went through to survive. I did with my own eyes. He came out the end of that strong, and he killed the bastard Ramsay Snow himself."

Jon stood up abruptly. "I did lead the army against the Bolton's, you are correct Lord Lightfoot. I made some plans and I fought alongside many of you. I did so in the name of my brother. I told Lord Locke back in White Harbour this, and I will tell you all now. I will lead men for House Stark, I will die for House Stark. But I will not usurp my brother. I am loyal to him, and I will serve him for as long as I am wanted."

"Well said." Wyman said firmly, and thankfully Jon's declaration had settled the dissenters. Wyman withdrew a rather large and unused blade and slammed the point down on the stone floor, his knee soon following. "Lord Rickon is the last surviving trueborn son of Lord Eddard Stark. He is our rightful Lord, and he will be my Lord until the day I die."

More and more people did the same as the Lord of White Harbour in taking their blades out and bending the knee towards Rickon. The boy didn't look fazed in the slightest as he stood up, and Sansa was reminded that her brother was growing up. "Thank you My Lords. My Ladies." He said calmly, looking at Sansa briefly who just nodded. "In the weeks to come my regency will be decided, but for now we should just celebrate our victories with some music!"

He spoke well, and as the music flared up Sansa grinned at her younger brother after he was finished and let him return to speaking with Ned Umber. "There will still be those that call for you to rule here." Sansa muttered to Jon quietly so nobody else would hear.

"Let them." Jon said unhappily. "I ruled enough in Castle Black for one lifetime."

"My Lady." A calm voice came from in front of the table, and Sansa smiled at Lord Reed, who's men were still thankfully defending Moat Cailin. He looked at Jon with a smile. "We need to think of a more formal title for you, Jon Snow."

"Jon is fine, Lord Reed." Jon explained.

"Perhaps." Howland nodded. "May I speak with you? I have some things I need to discuss…"

Jon looked at Sansa with some surprise, and Sansa just shrugged back. Jon nodded and left the table to follow the Crannogman out of the hall, and Sansa took the time to grin at her toddler on her other side. Rickon was right and things needed to be arranged and sorted out so that the North stayed strong and would never fall again, but for the first time in what felt like a very long time Sansa could sit back and actually enjoy the revelry.

In between Loren's meeting with Prince Trystane and giving Ser Armory over to the Martell's, a raven had arrived at Nightsong having come from the Rock explaining Myrcella's side of the story that Cersei was spinning. Once more Loren mourned for his cousin, regretting not being at Tommen's side when the boy King had felt that all hope was lost, but it made his decision even clearer, and he very quickly ordered for his host to return to the Westerlands to plan their next moves against Cersei. They rode for Deep Den on the Gold Road, knowing that the castle of House Lydden was the closest to the Gold Road that joined Lannisport to King's Landing, and the most direct route for the inevitable response from Cersei.

The Westerland army had been on the Gold Road for barely a day and were just starting to pass between the mountainous terrain that marked the Westerlands border when Benarr Prester, who had been tasked with protecting the rear of the march, came riding up to Loren who was more in the middle of the retinue. Benarr was panting himself, so Loren felt sorry for the poor horse that he rode. "My Lord!" Benarr was shouting. "My Lord!"

"What is it, Ben?" Loren asked, wheeling off to one side to allow his men to keep marching.

"Our scouts! They've spotted an army marching our way." Benarr panted. "They're moving quickly, they'll catch up to us in less than an hour."

Loren frowned. "Banners?"

"The Golden Company." Benarr said ominously, and Loren's eyes widened.

Immediately the Lannister Lord rode up to find the nearest commander, who thankfully was his Grandfather, Lord Roland Crakehall. "BATTLE POSITIONS! SPEARS AND SHIELDS AT THE READY!" He cried out. Thankfully the call got taken up and passed along, and the soldiers in crimson all hurried into forming a defensive formation along the Gold Road, noises sounding regularly as they stuck their steel shield spikes in the mud. Loren then rode eastwards, allowing the foot soldiers to run back behind the defensive lines, stopping his horse next to Benarr as they waited.

"I always wanted to see the Golden Company." Benarr admitted. "If I wasn't my Father's heir, I may have joined them at one point."

Loren grimaced. "You'll see them soon enough."

He was right, half an hour later the regularly thudding of armoured footsteps could be heard in the distance. Loren patted his destrier's neck to keep him calm as the first wave of the Company were spotted in the distance. They marched in an excellent formation, and they stopped almost instantaneously before filing out in a more linear formation to match the Lannister's own. Loren continued to wait patiently however, not showing any sign that he was impressed with the professional army, until he noticed a pair of riders waving a truce banner coming towards them.

"Fuck me…" Benarr grimaced when he looked across the entire line. "There's so many of them."

20,000, Loren had counted in his head. "Fear not, Ben. We have the terrain." He told his friend.

"You best be right Lor." Ben laughed. "Lambert will dig me up and kill me again if I die and leave his sister pregnant." Loren turned in surprise at the declaration. "I didn't want to say anything, I knew you'd send me on some shit job instead of doing what I'm best at."

Shaking his head, Loren grinned. "Too right. Fear not, I'll get you back to Joanna and your babe, Ben." He looked back and noticed that the two men were getting closer. "Fetch my grandfather." Loren commanded, knowing that he would want some seniority at his side. Barely a minute later Loren was riding with his Crakehall Grandfather holding the Lannister banner to meet the two riders and the four men stood in the middle of the two armies. Loren again observed the two that sat atop their own horses, one of them holding the famous banner and the other looking almost bored.

"Who are you and what right do you have to be in my lands with such a host?" Loren asked them, the frustration evident in his voice.

The man without the banner cocked his head. "I am Captain-General Strickland, of the Golden Company. I had been tasked by your Queen to reinforce you in your war with Dorne."

"Our war with Dorne is over, boy." Roland Crakehall told them. "Your Queen is not our Queen."

Strickland sighed. "Then it is as Queen Cersei feared. You have betrayed her."

"Queen Cersei has no right to the Iron Throne, nor my fealty. That belongs to Queen Myrcella as the only living trueborn child of King Robert Baratheon, not his widow." Loren snarled, before his face softened and he sighed dramatically. "I grew up on stories of the Golden Company. The only times you've ever lost is when fighting in Westeros."

Strickland chuckled. "Not this time, Lord Lannister."

Loren looked at the man sternly. "We shall see, Captain Strickland."

"If you do not stall your march home and return to the Dornish front, then Queen Cersei has authorised me to revoke Casterly Rock from you." Harry Strickland announced.

Roland Crakehall actually laughed aloud at that. "Not bloody likely." He boomed. "Best fuck off to where you came from, Essosi."

"My family hail from the Reach, old man." Strickland smirked. "I am home."

"This hasn't been your home for generations." Loren stated plainly. "But if you so desire I shall ensure that it will be your grave."

Strickland nodded his head the once. "You wish for a fight instead of surrendering, we shall oblige you, young lion."

The Golden Company leader didn't waste any time in a staring match and turned his horse around and rode back to his forces. Loren sighed before scowling, trying to get his mind set for the coming battle. "Come, Grandfather." He said coldly.

"I hope you have a plan." Lord Roland said carefully. "They have greater numbers."

"We will break them in the mountains." Loren countered. "We have higher ground. You ride to Lord Sarsfield, I want the gold road littered with golden dead."

"As you say, My Lord." Loren's Grandfather bowed with a smirk, and he rode first to see to his task.

Loren returned to the centre of the lines where his squire handed him his war lance and his helmet. "What's the plan, My Lord?" Willam Frey asked.

"Fetch the mounted knights!" Loren called. "We charge, we break, we draw the Company into the mountains, and we slaughter them all!"

Cheers arose from the men of the West and very quickly the mounted knights all gathered behind the row of foot soldier shields. Loren made sure to tighten the holster on his horse's side and he gripped his war lance tightly, before nodding to the soldier nearby with the war horn to blow. As the noise filled Loren's ears and the roars of the first charge sounded, Loren tapped his lion head pauldrons with his lance as he always did before a battle and he kicked his horse into a gallop, ready to meet the Golden Company in battle.

Cersei hasn't been idle… the Golden Company is with her. Of course Loen wasn't ever going to accept her as his Queen, but now he is fully involved in a Lannister civil war with another threat looming large in the East…

In Winterfell and the North are settling down, though of course there are still some that want Jon to rule them over a child. Jon won't ever agree to that though!

And finally with Loren. A Dornish standoff would have been dull which is why I haven't really included that in the last few chapters, but there is an explanation into what has happened so far with the newer news of Tommen's death and Cersei's crowning. Of course he wasn't going to be happy with that. The second conversation with Trystane was a fun one for me. Both dislike the other, but both wanting to put that aside for the good of their people.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it.

Next time: Dany is visited by a spider, and Winterfell plays host to a new Stark…

Reviews:

Supremus85: It wasn't mentioned because it wasn't really relevant, but Ramsay was always dying. He was still bastard born and had killed Mance Rayder among many others, he would have been executed no matter what.

Silver crow: The show proved that Cersei could gain some form of following through fear of others and while I won't be giving her as much support as she got in the show, she has some. Myrcella only really has the West for now, Cersei has the Crownlands, then all the other Kingdoms at this moment in time are basically up for grabs other than the Stormlands.

the rain dancer: Roose is dead at her hands, she won't be trusted for sure, but she can't be punished for that really. I update every Friday! (Providing I have a chapter ready to upload)

Jason Kreuger Myers: Tyrion won't be upset about Tyland not seeing everything crumble as that's directly linked to Tommen's death and Tyrion will be sad about that. Trystane's arc isn't done no, he still has a few important moments to come, including something massive in Chapter 53...