Rocket Man

When Queen Margaery awoke she assumed she must've been still dreaming. These furs she lay on, this uncomfortable bed, the plain wood-stone ceiling she stared at. They couldn't be real because if they were real then they'd mean last night was real as well. When a few minutes passed and nothing changed, she assumed she'd been sent to one of the seven hells. That would certainly explain all the bloodshed see seen.

Did Cersei somehow have her assassinated? Did she lose her trial to the Faith Militant? Why would the gods punish her? Surely she was a good person. She remained a maid, despite having been married thrice over. She read the Seven Pointed Star and donated to the orphanages. She chose to rule the people with love instead of fear. Why did she deserve to be here?

Was it because she covered up for Loras's lovers? Was it because her family chose the wrong side in every war? Her father served the Mad King, then Renly and then the Lannisters. Gods knew none of those men were just, nor their causes. Maybe it was because her grandmother killed Margaery's second husband?

Whatever it was she knew she was guilty by association. This surely could not have been any fault of her own but of her House's. The gods had made a mistake.

After thirty minutes or so of staring at the ceiling, still lying in bed, she began to cry.

When she was done she began to think. If it truly was for serving Joff and Renly, why wasn't she burning? Surely the Seven had no love for Stannis, nor his god for her. She rose out of bed, and felt freezing cold. She was still wearing the rags from last night, covered in splinters, ash and mud. She nearly began to cry again.

'Pull yourself together' she told herself. Her back straightened. 'You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The fairest lady in all the realm.'

'What would grandmother do if she saw me now?' she asked herself. The Queen of Thorns would guffaw at her. She began to process the events of last night in her mind.

She was dragged out of bed to find herself in the snow. A handsome boy around her age was bleeding in the snow. His features looked nobility. He wore black and so did many others. Some wore rags as savages and others the banners of the Stormlands and Dragonstone.

She was in Castle Black. Someone must have drugged her and took her here. 'But that would take far too many moons, and why?' Did Cersei hate her enough to send her to her worst enemies? But if Cersei wanted her dead the old lioness would want to watch. Maybe she had amnesia for how she arrived.

After her arrival she was taken to a tower with the bleeding boy. The Red Woman and the woman in white patched the boys wounds. She knew not who the woman in white was, although she held herself like royalty. Very regal like. The men in black, the men in rags the woman in white and the woman in red were all arguing, about what Marg didn't remember.

The Red Woman was Baratheon's witch, and recognized her immediately. Evil flashed in those crimson eyes. No one did anything as the Red Woman dragged her out. The woman in white's eyes looked at her with indifferent boredom, as if she didn't care. They tied her to a post with another girl. Younger with a face scarred by greyscale.

Shireen Baratheon? Renly's niece. She vaguely remembered Renly making jests about the girl's deformity. She never met the girl in court, her father probably kept her away for a reason. 'But why would Stannis burn his own daughter? Renly was his brother yes but Renly had no intentions of sparing his brother either. The girl was not only an innocent but his heir. Unless… Stannis knew nothing about this.'

When she saw the smoke and the burning wood it was the most horrifying moment of her entire life. More horrid than Joffrey's death. More dreadful than any of her weddings. More terrifying than her arrest by the High Sparrow.

She remembered a frail, ugly older woman throwing herself to the flame, trying to save the young girl. Lady Florent? Then the wounded boy returned. He leapt through the kindle to save them. Not caring for his own fresh wounds. And then her memory stops. Did she pass out from exhaustion after? The boy must have been someone important, for the men to rever him in such a way.

She decided to explore the room. Whoever brought her here did not leave her in chains. There was a messy desk with papers sprawled about. She glanced over, most of it was numbers for food and grain. She tried at the door, it was locked. She looked to the desk once more.

Whoever it belonged to didn't need to know she checked. And if they didn't want her to look they should not have left her untied. She did her best to straighten her hair. Running her fingers through and shaking it. Then she started over.

•

The sound of a knock permeated the room. Margaery twisted her head. The noise was soon followed with the creaking of wood. She raised her head to the man standing in the door. She herself was still crouched over his desk, caught in the act of snooping.

•

Jon hastily made his way to his quarters. He couldn't help but shake the feeling he was forgetting something. The smell of the blacksmith forge filled his nostrils. These quarters once belonged to Donal Noye, now him and would once again be changing hands. He had to decide soon who'd be in charge of manning the Wall while he was gone. Needed to be someone loyal. Yet he would need loyal men with him during his march to Winterfell.

He continued on. A guard stood by his door. Odd, beings he usually didn't post guards directly in front of his door. The brother of the Watch stepped aside and saluted. He was probably only posted there due to all the latest… upheavals. Jon nodded at the man and continued on. He knocked once, in the slight chance Satin might be inside organizing his papers. He hadn't seen the steward since the Shieldhall that morning.

After he opened the door he suddenly remembered what he was forgetting. He told Pyp to lock the Tyrell girl in a room where the other men would not reach her. He pinched his nose. He didn't need his quarters last night as he had no intentions of sleeping. The Watch needed reorganized, fires needed put out. Dreams needed kept at bay.

'Oh well' he thought. 'Better to get this done and over with now anyhow'

•

The man in the door turned into a boy. He opened his mouth and closed it, with a dumbfounded expression. Then he sighed. Did he not expect her to be here? This was his own bedroom and he was clearly in charge of the castle. The Queen didn't know what to say. He eyed her warily.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked gravely. By his side stood the crest of House Stark, only white fur instead of grey. She'd have figured it out already if she didn't already read his papers.

"Lord Commander Jon Snow, good Ser." she answered. Why was she here? Horrible thoughts ran threw her mind.

"I'm not a 'ser'." she heard him mutter. Here was her key to much needed answers. If he had something unjust in mind he wouldn't have risked his own life to save hers, she told herself.

"Do you know who I am, my lord?" She asked. 'I am the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms' she replied in her mind.

"Queen Margaery Waters. Or would it be Lannister?" He answered. Oh good. She cursed in her head. At least he got the queen part right.

"I was under the impression the Night's Watch played no part in the affairs of men." She tried to hold herself in a regal way. Her current state did not help with that.

"We usually don't. But things have changed. Especially when they play parts in our affairs." he half growled, half spoke. He sounded more agitated than threatening.

"Have I done something to offend you my lord?" Courtesy was a maiden's weapons. They were her shield and sword.

"No." he answered softly, yet sternness returned. "But the Queen Dowager certainly has. As has her family who you've married into twice." He was referring to something recent. Not the previous crimes committed against his family although she was certain those were in his mind too. What has Cersei done this time?

"My good-mother is a wicked woman. These current rags you see me in are due to her machinations." They couldn't be called rags by your average peasant's standards, but they could by any great noble's. His eyes softened. 'Good' she thought. Maybe this situation was salvageable.

"Your sister Sansa" she prevented herself from saying half-sister. "was a very dear friend of mine in the Capital. I nearly saw her as family. I'm sure our previous association together may have played a part in Cersei's cruel judgement of me." Maybe she was stretching the truth, but it couldn't hurt. She'd need all the favor with this man she could get. His grey Stark eyes half believed her. The other half named her liar.

"So you say." He analyzed her. No Northerner would trust a Southroner. Especially considering the company she took.

"Did you know of any plots from the Queen-Mother to send assassins here? Plans that involved members of a 'House Kettleback'?" She paled. Was that why he was bleeding last night? How had the wretched old lioness accomplished this? Pieces clicked in her mind.

"Nay although I am not surprised. I believe we hold a common foe."

The Lord Commander stared, waiting for her to continue.

"Ser Osney Kettleback went to the High Sparrow to frame me. It surely can't be no coincidence that Cersei's fake knight would be involved with bringing down both of us." Especially when she was so close to winning her trial.

New plots began to form in her mind. Far from Kings Landing she may be, if there was still a trial to be held then the Lord Commander's word could seal her innocence. And Cersei's fate a voice whispered in her ear. It was clear her and the old queen could never coexist, especially after this madness. She needed put down. The hag not only tried using using the High Sparrow to kill her but had sent her to be burnt by Stannis. Marg was fuming.

"Still… I cannot possibly imagine how she managed to bring me here." She said aloud. To herself and the boy across from her. "Without me remembering such a long travel and waking up just in time to witness her other plan to fall in place"

Lord Commander Snow looked at her with pity. He was handsome in a way. Rugged. Like her in that he rose to high power at such a young age. But the pity in his eyes was not in finding a similar soul. It was more of an adult watching a child. He knew something she didn't.

"That's… Well, I hope that's not it. Otherwise we're all damned if she has such power." He tried chuckling but couldn't. He paused and looked away. To the ceiling, to the ground. "There were no Lannister men amongst the Mutineers. We've yet to receive any Southron lords from King's Landing. They had all been members of the Watch before I ever joined…" he breathed in and out. "didn't like my leadership. I broke our vows in their eyes."

He then looked at her directly. He looked exhausted. He tried smiling. It was too weak to be reassuring. There was a hint of nervousness in it.

"There was a… special occurrence… It appeared to be of the magical sort, my lady." Magic? She rolled her eyes. "People from all over the Seven Kingdoms were transported to and removed from here. Most were just peasants with the occasional Northern lord. But there were some from the capital, like you. Grandmaester Pycelle, Aurane Waters, a handful of goldcloaks."

She looked at him in disbelief. She was in the captivity of a madman, she was sure of it. Yet how could she explain what she saw last night? How could she explain where she was right now? Sansa's half-brother looked embarrassed now.

"How else do you answer it then? Both the Wildlings and the Queen's Men believe it was a divine gift. Even if they're divided on whether it was from the Old Gods or the Red One. They say it was to prevent the attempt on my life"

Was he believing his own myth? The Red Witch did the same to Stannis didn't she? Old gods, red gods, what did the Seven have to say about it? She shook her head. The world had fallen to insanity. If it wasn't already so. This was all too much to take in. His grey eyes drifted to the desk and he nodded.

"I see you took the liberty of organizing my papers for me." Oh. He was changing the issue now. She blinked. His figure changed, gone was the nervous boy and in his place was a lord.

"Lady Margaery. I need you to write a letter."

She stared expectedly.

"In fact I need you to write a few letters."

She raised an eyebrow.

•

When she was done writing, they both clearly felt exhausted. Jon stared at her, his eyes lingered. She was pretty. Brown doe eyes and hair to match, a heart shaped face and womanly built. No amount of ash nor dirt could hide that fact. Yet she didn't look like a queen. She looked like a girl, perfectly normal. Not some high lady, nor a servant. Just a girl.

"Now I must figure where to place you my lady." He was leaning against a wall.

She looked up, she was still sitting at his desk. Ghost had moved on and curled up against her. She didn't pet him nor did she show any signs of fear from him. Just neutral acceptance. As if Ghost laying there was something natural, normal and out of her control.

"What do you mean? Am I not to stay here?" He couldn't tell if she was genuinely shocked or not. "You can't leave me with those criminals outside! And the Baratheon men will execute me, you don't control them." She didn't know the King was dead.

"I don't care if you don't accept my claim as a monarch or that I'm a hostage. I'm still the daughter of one of the Great Houses. There are laws. If I'm to be a prisoner then my cell must be befitting of my status." She was upset. Rightfully so.

"At ease. You're going to staying at Hardin Tower, under the custody of a Wildling princess names Val. There you'll be bathed and fed, and well protected. No one can lay a hand on you there."

And so he personally escorted her to the structure; the men said nothing as he passed by, her hands around his arm. She slowed down her steps when she recognized the building from last night was where she'd be staying. When they reached Wun Wun Jon had to use all his might to keep himself from laughing. The poor maiden nearly fainted at the sight of a giant, squeezing his arm so tight he swore she was going to rip it off. And when he explained the giant would be protecting her, she nearly fainted again. Maybe she wasn't lying about knowing Sansa.

When they reached Val, Lady Margaery clutched his arm even tighter. Although not entirely out of fear like when she met the giant. The brunette stared holes through the blonde. There was anger there, Jon was too tired to try figuring out why. Val never paid it any much mind if she noticed it at all. Jon nodded to her before he left.

By the time Jon finally did fall asleep it was unintentional at his desk. He was going over logistics and rereading the letters again and again. Pink wax and House Bolton ran through his mind. It became so late that his body refused to allow him to continue.

He was brewing on how to execute Pycelle and Waters. He decided the Goldcloaks they found would help man the Wall. If any peasants who were transported wished to stay they could, so long as they helped to some capacity. Otherwise they were free to find their own ways to their homes. Yet he couldn't decide, beheading or hanging.

"Burn them all" A voice croaked out. He spun around, fist gripping pommel.

Mormont's old raven stared at him.

"Burn! Burn them all!" the bird chirped. Then he blacked out, fading into oblivion.

As he dreamt, he received what he knew was coming. Dreaded visions of him reliving terrors. Being strangled by a dead man with Jon's own hand becoming a torch, before the dead man's corpse became a torch as well. Arrows and a bird, tearing his face and body apart. He received daggers in the dark, from black shadowy faceless men. Lastly, of a bed of blue winter roses, splattered with blood…

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And scene. What letters are Jon and Marg writing? Will Jon burn more ppl alive? Will we get an update on the other characters I've tagged? Find out next time! If you want more, please review, favorite and follow. Peace Out!