AYLWARD

Though night had descended over their camp, there would be no sleep had tonight. At daybreak Renly would lead his troops into battle against his brother, and Aylward was meant to command a van. He'd left the others back in Renly's pavilion, bickering and playing their games. As if who dealt the first blow, or who led the most men mattered. They were going to war, and none of them were prepared.

Few of Renly's men had fought in Robert's Rebellion, or even the Greyjoy's short-lived uprising. Aylward was just as green as the rest of them. But still, he remembered his brothers leaving, searching for glory. Their bones had returned, but their souls were lost. There was no glory to be found in war, only death.

But yet he had pledged his life to a King and Aylward would follow him into battle, as his vows demanded of him. They would win, he had little doubt. Even with half their host remaining at Bitterbridge, their army still outnumbered Stannis Baratheon's meager host ten to one. He did not fear his bones returning to his brother, he feared for his soul. For all their souls. What must the Gods think of them? These men who would tear out each other's throats instead of forming a peace. Instead of uniting against the greater enemy.

A blood-curdling scream interrupted his thoughts. Voices shouted in the distance, and soon others were joining them, until the words arrived at his ears. "The King is dead!" Aylward broke into a run.

He approached the tent from the back and if he hadn't stopped when he did, he would have collided with Lady Brienne. The girl looked stricken, her eyes hollow and skin pale.

Lady Stark griped his arm with fierceness, and Aylward pulled his eyes away from his fellow guard. "It was Stannis," she whispered. Her voice was brittle. "I don't know how, but I swear to you." They both looked to Brienne, the girl was silent, staring into the distance. "They'll kill her. We have to leave."

There was an unspoken request, and Aylward remembered what Amina had asked of him. He nodded once and steered the women toward the edge of camp. No one looked at them as they walked. Everyone was consumed with their own panic, or grief, or confusion.

The three reached the horses where Lady Stark's men were waiting. They were all eager to ask questions, but Catelyn turned toward Aylward. "You must bring Amina to safety, ser. Please."

Even as she started away from him, toward her men and escape, Aylward could see the fear in her eyes. He thought of the girl in Bitterbridge with Queen Margaery. If Stannis got to her, Amina would be a hostage; he would use her to bring Robb Stark to heel. Or at least he would try. Aylward had a sinking feeling the girl would turn a knife on herself before she allowed anyone to use her as a chess piece in their game. Aylward gave a single nod.

Without another word, he parted from the group. He gathered the things that he required and departed for Bitterbridge with haste. There was nothing left behind him but chaos. The lords would tear each other apart searching for answers. Their loyalties would be divided. Many would join with Stannis; others would leave for King's Landing. Aylward would do neither.

He didn't know where he would go after, but for now it was the promise he'd made that kept him moving forward. Tomorrow would be another question, but today all he could do was save a girl's life.

Aylward's familial lands felt empty now. Half a hundred pavilions still remained, but most of the men had scattered. Nearly a moon had passed since Renly's death, and by now word had spread far and wide. He could not blame the men for abandoning the cause. There was little for them now but uncertainty.

The gates of Bitterbridge opened for him, but he saw few servants as he made his way up the tower to the Queen's chambers. When he reached Margaery's door, he knocked twice. Inside he heard voices speak in hushed whispers. "Your grace, it's me," Aylward called out.

"Let him in," Margaery said, just loud enough for him to hear. There was a scraping behind the door, and then a metallic clinking as the lock was undone. When the door opened it revealed Amina Corrigan standing next to a large chair with a knife. Aylward held up his hands in surrender. Amina looked over his shoulder at the empty hall. After a moment she nodded and stepped out of his path.

Margaery darted around the dark-haired girl and threw her arms around Aylward's neck. "Oh, it is so good to see you. I was so worried." She looked toward the door, which Amina had closed behind him. "Where is my brother?"

Aylward hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I can't say with certainty, your grace. On his way surely."

"But didn't he come with you?"

"No, I left before the others." Aylward glanced over to Amina, who still looked ready to jump at any moment. "Lady Stark asked me to bring Lady Corrigan to safety."

"They aren't coming back." Amina did not phrase it as a question, but Aylward nodded, nonetheless. "We should wait for the others, for Margaery's sake." She looked to Margaery, who had moved to the window overlooking the courtyard.

Aylward didn't want to leave Margaery alone either, but they had no choice. Loras Tyrell was as likely to take Amina hostage as Stannis was. Arguably, if the Tyrells joined the Lannisters, it would be worse for her. Not that Aylward expected she would live that long. "My lady, my apologies, but I do not think you have the luxury to wait."

Lady Corrigan looked at him for a long time. She gripped the knife tightly in her hand, and he knew that his assessment had been correct. Amina Corrigan would never let herself become someone's hostage.

"Mina, you have to go." Margaery's voice turned both of their attentions. The Dowager Queen walked toward them and laid a hand on Amina's shoulder. "I will be alright. You heard Ser Caswell, Loras is on his way."

Amina took a moment to answer, but finally nodded. To Aylward she said, "Robb is in the Westerlands, north of Oxcross. I need to see him."

"Then that's where we'll go."

With his assurances, Amina turned back to Margaery. The girls embraced each other tightly. "We'll see each other again," Amina promised her. "Someday when this is all over."

"I hope so," Margaery said quietly. The girls broke apart and it was Aylward's turn to say his goodbyes. The young queen looked up at him with a soft smile. "This isn't goodbye, Ser Caswell. Our paths always cross again."

Historically speaking, it was true. Even when Aylward's path had led him away from Highgarden and to King's Landing, Renly brought him back in the end. But this was another journey, and the realm was at war. Nothing was certain. Even still, he wanted to believe her.

"Until next time then," he said quietly.

Margaery turned away from him and joined Lady Corrigan in ensuring Amina's bag was full to bursting. "I'll write when my brother arrives," Margaery assured them both. "Be safe."

Amina pointed at the chair that had presumably been blocking the door before he came in. "Barricade the door when we're gone," she instructed Margaery. "Let no one in until Loras comes." The brunette looked a bit exasperated with Lady Corrigan's fussing, but nodded. "Goodbye, Margaery."

A fortnight had passed since they'd left Bitterbridge. They were in the farmlands somewhere between Goldengrove and Old Oak. Aylward had gotten them a room at an inn for the night, they needed the hot meal and the soft bed.

Lady Corrigan lay asleep, curled in on herself. Aylward paced by the door, as she turned fitfully. She whispered again. The words were foreign to his ears, though he'd heard enough High Valyrian to recognize the language.

Aylward had dozed off on watch. When he woke, he thought Amina was speaking to him, ready to reprimand him for falling asleep. But Lady Corrigan was unconscious. He listened in vain waiting for her words to make sense. And then he heard the name, "Daenerys."

In King's Landing, Robert had urged his High Council to send assassins after a girl he deemed a threat. Renly had thought the whole idea preposterous. King Robert was relying on the word of spies half a world away, surely the girl could not be who they thought she was. More like she was just a silver-haired girl from Lys.

It was only in Highgarden that Aylward had learned the girl was, in fact, the very thing Robert feared. The last Targaryen. If the merchants' gossip along the pier was to be believed, she was more than just that. Daenerys Targaryen had married a Dothraki, survived countless assassins, and hatched dragon eggs.

Aylward had believed it to be only gossip, stories which had grown larger than life with each mile across the sea. But now, Amina Corrigan was tossing and turning in the midst of some dream. Whatever she was seeing had something to do with that girl Robert had been so afraid of.

Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps the rumors had may their way to Riverrun and to Amina's ears. Perhaps she was only dreaming of a princess far away from this war-torn world that she, herself, lived in.

But Aylward had never believed in coincidences, and too many pieces of Amina's story didn't add up. House Corrigan had resources, true. Beldain was full of natural riches. But any lord could have taken Amina in. Yet, somehow, she'd made it to Winterfell. She was close enough to the Starks to consider them family. They provided her with all the luxuries and privileges owed a Lady of a great house. But House Corrigan was only a vassal, and a ruined one at that.

The girl stirred, and finally woke. She looked over at him with tired eyes. "I can take watch," she murmured. Amina turned and slid out of bed.

"You speak Valyrian in your sleep," Aylward said to her back. Amina froze. At her side, her fingers twitched as if searching for the knife belt that wasn't there.

"Years of lessons I suppose," she said, turning around. "Maester Luwin would be proud to know I'm dreaming in Valyrian."

"You said a name as well," he continued. "Daenerys."

To her credit, Amina didn't flinch. She looked at him for a moment, as if she could read his mind. "Go ahead, say it. Pass your sentence."

"You know her," he said. "The Targaryen across the Narrow Sea. The one they say hatched a dragon egg."

"Three," she said quietly. "She hatched three." Aylward looked at her, silent. He couldn't say it, it seemed too absurd. Amina said it for him, "Daenerys Targaryen is my sister."

For a while they were both quiet. Amina sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the riding dress she'd fallen asleep in. "I understand if you want to leave. Myst and I can make it to Oxcross on our own."

They both knew that was unlikely. The ocean road ran through Lannisport and Casterly Rock before it reached Oxcross. Amina would be throwing herself into enemy territory with nothing more than a dozen or so knives to protect her. Aylward was sure she could hold her own in a fight, but she was a lady of a noble house, she'd never been alone in her life.

"I promised Lady Stark I would take you to safety," Aylward said finally. "I will keep my word." He didn't miss the relief that crossed her face, though she hid it quickly behind a blank expression. "Go back to sleep. You'll need your rest for the road ahead."