Author's Note: HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story – I can't believe this story has hit 300 reviews, you guys continue to blow me away. This chapter was a bit of a pain in my ass, but I didn't quite know how to change it.

Special thanks to pawelp and mcummings329 for their help.

Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! :)

Chapter 14: Change of Plans

Dearest Father,

I apologize for not writing to you for so long. I really appreciated your last letter, it was so wonderful to hear news from home! I have my own news that may have already reached you down south, but do you remember that stag I had spotted while animal watching? It seems to have finally met its end – I wasn't there to witness it, but my guess would have to be the lion. It seems to have an insatiable appetite.

"Bran," Maester Luwin chided gently, tapping the map on the table and attempting to draw his student's attention back to the lesson. It was a lazy, slow day, one in which time seemed to drag by so slowly that she felt as if it were moving backward. The three of them were sitting in the now empty Great Hall after breakfast. Maester Luwin had been making Bran study harder than ever now that he was the acting Lord of Winterfell since Robb had left. Bran didn't complain much, but he was outwardly unenthusiastic about the whole idea.

Bran sighed heavily, his head in his hand as he glanced at the map, taking a bite of the cold bacon that he was still nibbling on. "The Iron Islands. Sigil – the Cracken. Words – 'we do not sow.'

"Lords?"

"The Greyjoys," Bran answered unenthusiastically. Looking down, Maliya allowed herself a small smile at his obvious boredom. She dipped her quill in the ink once more, rubbing the throbbing pain in her temple as she finished up her letter.

In response, the wolves have begun to gather, the entire pack marching away from it's home. I pray everyday that the sun will guide them in the right direction and keep them safe.

I miss you and the rest of the family more than words can describe. I hope to hear from you soon.

Your loving daughter

"Bran, I've been unsuccessfully trying to hold your attention for far too long," Maester Luwin sighed in exasperation, rolling up the map and putting it to the side. "Would you care to share what's on your mind?"

"I had another dream last night," Bran answered, looking up as a spark of interest finally entered his eyes.

"About the three eyed raven again?" Maester Luwin guessed, his voice positively dropping with disapproval.

Maliya paused in pressing her family's crest to the hot wax of the letter she had just rolled, frowning as her eyes flickered between the two of them. "Did I hear that correctly?" Maliya interrupted, leaning forward. "Did you just say a three eyed raven?"

Bran nodded enthusiastically, spurred on by her apparent curiosity. "It's always the same dream. I'm standing outside, actually standing, and I'm about to shoot an arrow, except before I do, this raven flies passed me out of nowhere and lands on a direwolf statue. It turns towards me and instead of it's two normal eyes, it has a third one above them. When I move closer to it, it flies away so I follow it, and every single time it leads me to the crypts of Winterfell."

Maliya froze when Bran mentioned the crypts, and it was a full three seconds before she reminded herself to breathe and appear normal. "The crypts?" Maliya repeated, in a hopefully nonchalant and partially confused voice. It had to be a coincidence. Didn't it? "Why do you think it keeps leading you towards the crypts?" If Bran mentioned anything about Dragon eggs, Cregan Stark or a hidden room, Maliya was going to have to hide the egg someplace more safe.

"I don't know," Bran admitted with a look of frustration. As guilty as she felt about it, his admission sent a wave of relief rushing through her, at least for the moment. "I always wake up just as I reach the doors of the crypts."

"We've talked about this Bran," Maester Luwin interjected, sending Maliya a pointed look that so obviously said to stop asking questions and encouraging him. "It was a dream and nothing more. There is no such thing as a three eyed raven and it's not trying to send you a message." His words were delivered gently but firmly, enough to get his point across but not too strong that it offended him. Even so, Bran's face transformed into that stubborn look that Maliya had seen so often on Robb and Arya's faces. "We really should be getting back to your studies. And if you are just going to play with your food than you should have someone take it away."

"I'm still eating," Bran told him petulantly, glowering before lifting the plate of bacon and holding it out to Maliya expectantly. "Here, Maliya, you like bacon even more than I do. Can you help me finish this?"

Maliya looked down at the plate in front of her face, the lingering smell wafting up and invading her nose. Her hand dropped down to her stomach as it violently roiled, her eyes widening as she swallowed harshly to keep the contents of her stomach down. Her other hand unconsciously came up to push the plate away from her, her head turning to the side. "I've already eaten, thank you Bran," she gasped as her stomach finally began to settle down.

Bran looked confused at her reaction, but Maester Luwin was eyeing her with concern, a look in his eye that she didn't quite like. "Are you alright, My Lady?"

"I'm alright," she tried to assure him, plastering a smile on her face. "Just a little queasy is all."

"How long has this been happening?" Maester Luwin pressed, tilting his head to the side.

"Nothing is happening," Maliya chuckled, brushing off his concerns. "Now, didn't I hear something about Bran getting back to his studies?"

Bran made a disgruntled face. "I don't want to study," he complained. "Can we see that map again, Maester Luwin? Where do you think Robb is right now?"

Maester Luwin looked between their interested faces with a kind of reluctant amusement before sighing once more and unrolling the map. "Your brother would have taken a straight a path south," Maester Luwin told them, his finger trailing a path down from Winterfell. They have a lot of men riding with them, so depending how fast they are moving, they may have already reached or past Moat Cailin, here."

"And where do you think they would go next?" Maliya asked, frowning as she leaned forward to examine the map closely.

"I am not proficient in military tactics," Maester Luwin told her, shaking his head. "I could not even begin to know what Robb and his commanders would have decided – "

"Take a guess," Maliya insisted, her gaze hard.

Maester Luwin looked at her for a long moment, before nodding. "I'm not confident about the current position of the Lannister army, but the last that I heard, they were invading the south Riverlands."

"So then they're probably heading for Riverrun," Maliya concluded, pointing. "I mean, that's what I would do. Lady Stark took Lord Tyrion captive, so Lord Tywin is retaliating by attacking her home."

Bran's little face frowned in concentration, a look that greatly resembled his expression whenever he opposed her in Cyvasse. "If that's true, than it looks like the Green Fork is between them."

"Go on," Maester Luwin encouraged, watching his young student, and looking pleased that there might be a lesson in all of this anyway.

"Well," Bran pondered, his finger trailing the river. "The only two crossings are here, at the Twins which is held by Lord Frey, or here at the Ruby Ford, which is much further south." Maliya's heart clenched at the mention of the Ruby Ford. It was where Robert Baratheon had killed her father, so named because the blow from the war hammer supposedly knocked the rubies from her father's breastplate and scattered in the water. "The crossing at the Twins would be faster for Robb, and Lord Frey is a bannerman of the Tully House, so it would probably be safer as well."

"Very well thought out, Bran," Maester Luwin praised, making Bran beam.

Bran looked up between the two of them, his eyes shining with hope and a childlike innocence. "Robb is going to win this war," he declared with conviction, no shred of doubt in his voice. "He's going to defeat the Lannisters and he's going to bring Father, Sansa and Arya back home. You'll see."

"Of course he is," Maliya replied softly, smiling to hide the fears and doubts in her own mind. She stood to get up from the table and swayed dangerously, her hand bracing herself against the table as the floor tilted beneath her. Her hand came to her forehead as black spots danced in front of her eyes, and for a minute she feared she would faint. Blinking rapidly as the dizziness faded, Maliya lowered her head and looked around, realizing that Maester Luwin was standing next to her, supporting her elbow so she wouldn't fall over.

"My Lady?" He questioned anxiously, his eyes flickering between the two of hers. "My Lady please, if you would just come with me so I can examine you – "

"I'm fine, Maester Luwin," Maliya cut in, assuring him with a smile and a voice that brooked no argument. "I merely need some fresh air to clear my head. Would you like to accompany me?" She asked, turning to Bran and raising her eyebrows. He nodded hesitantly before turning to send someone to find Hodor. While he was distracted, Maliya turned back to Maester Luwin and whispered to him in urgent, hushed tones. "I know what you're thinking Maester, but I can assure you that you are wrong. It's nothing – I'm probably just coming down with some sort of illness."

"My Lady, you're feeling nauseous - " Maester Luwin protested in a hushed whisper.

"It's probably just something that I ate – " Maliya hissed back.

"You look paler than usual, and tired as well – "

"In case you have forgotten, Maester Luwin, my husband has just ridden off to war against an army and a family bigger and more powerful than his. If you really must know, I haven't been able to sleep since he left," Maliya snapped, her brown eyes narrowing. Last night while she was lying awake on Robb's side of the bed, she had finally realized the reason behind the fear that gripped her heart whenever she thought of Robb riding off to war. Her father Rhaegar had left for war when she was but three years old and he had gotten himself killed. Maliya hated to draw parallels, but she was being left behind again while her husband rode off to war this time, and she feared he would suffer the same fate. "Does it cause you joy to point out the worries and fears that are currently plaguing me?"

Maester Luwin looked shocked. "Of course not, My Lady! I only wanted to check to see if you are – "

"Are you ready Bran?" Maliya asked over him as if he didn't speak, lacing her fingers in front of her as Hodor came to a stop by their table.

"Can we go for a ride on the trails, Maliya?" Bran asked hopefully as Hodor picked him up.

"I'm afraid not," Maliya answered apologetically, looking at him regretfully. "Robb left us with strict orders not to go beyond the castle walls, it isn't safe."

"I thought not," Bran muttered, his eyes looking down.

Maliya's heart went out to him and she just couldn't stand the sight of his crestfallen little face. "But maybe we can ride around inside the castle walls for a bit. Nothing above a trot of course, but fast enough to get your blood pumping a little bit. Maybe we can even find Rickon and he can practice riding his own horse as well."

"Alright!" Bran cried enthusiastically, a wide grin splitting his face. "Well, you heard the lady, Hodor – to the stables!"

"Hodor," Hodor answered, smiling as he headed out of the Great Hall.

"I shall go and find Rickon," Maester Luwin murmured to her, bowing his head before exiting as well.

Maliya watched him go, waiting until he left before letting out a relieved breath, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She angrily willed her still agitated stomach to calm down, refusing to acknowledge the weakness in her muscles or the tiredness in her limbs. Though she felt badly for speaking like that to the maester who was only concerned for her, he was wrong. He had to be. There was no way that she was pregnant.

Cersei entered the sunny sitting room with a pleased smile on her face as she walked over to the small writing table and poured herself a cup of wine. So far, everything was going according to plan. Robert, her insufferable husband, was dead. She had often imagined how good it would be to be finally be rid of him, but nothing compared to the real thing. She felt free, freer than she had been before she had even married him.

It had been almost too easy to have him killed, a stroke of brilliance on her part. While her attempt to get him to enter the Tournament for the Hand had failed, it was almost better that her second attempt had succeeded. Her cousin Lancel was effortlessly manipulated with just the sight of her body. He had eagerly agreed to serve the King his favorite wine during the hunt, ensuring that her dear husband was drunk when he heroically took on the boar by himself. The best part was, it had all happened so perfectly that no one could possibly suspect her involvement.

Now her son was sitting as King on the Iron Throne and she was Queen Regent. While it was a shame that Sansa's letter to her brother imploring him to bend the knee had failed, it mattered not. Her father and Jaime would easily take care of the Young Wolf and his army. Besides, she had the boy's father locked up deep in the dungeons of the Red Keep and kept the little dove close beside her. While it would have been better to have both girls, the littlest urchin had somehow managed to escape right underneath her nose.

No matter. Soon Ned Stark would see the error of his ways and he would confess to treason and bend the knee to Joffrey. She knew he would go against his honor as a man because she saw in him a similar desire to do anything to save his children. Ned Stark would be convicted of treason and join his bastard son at the wall, both discrediting him and removing him from the politics of the Capitol, all without further antagonizing the North.

And then her family would rule all of Westeros unopposed.

A knock sounded at the door. "What is it?" Cersei called out, annoyed at being disturbed.

"It's Gurnar, Your Grace," her guard answered through the door. "He says he has an appointment to see you."

"Yes, yes, send him in," Cersei instructed, moving around to sit behind her table, taking another sip from her cup. The guards opened the door and Gurnar walked in. Cersei hid her disgust for the overweight, balding man. He smelled as if he hadn't had a proper bath in weeks, and his breath reeked even worse. He was a strong man however, and easily manipulated as the lead jailer in charge of the dungeons. "Good evening, Gurnar," Cersei greeted with a polite smile. "I assume you've come to give your report on our prisoner."

Gurnar walked further into the room and bowed his head. Cersei had to struggle not to wrinkle her nose as his stench reached her. "Aye, Yer Grace," he answered, his voice formal and important. "Over the past couple a days, the prisoner – " Cersei tuned him out, taking another sip of wine and making sure to nod and make small noises of agreement in the appropriate places. She had taken extra precautions to have Gurnar report to her anything and everything about Ned Stark, just in case. The results however, had been unsatisfactory, and the same each time. Gurnar rambled on and on about which jailer sees Ned Stark sleep or eat or take a piss and none of it was of any importance to her. "As I've said before, yer prisoner talk to hisself a lot. Mostly 'bout his family, but he sometimes says some others names too. He's said yers a few times, and the late king's but there was a new one yesterday, one of them dead Targaryens." Cersei tilted her head to the side, feeling intrigued despite herself. She put her cup down, wondering why on Earth Ned Stark was talking about the Targaryens. Gurnar's face crumpled into a frustrated frown as he tried to think. "I think it started with an 'R' – "

"Rhaegar?" Cersei demanded impatiently, leaning forward. "Was it Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"No, no," Gurnar disagreed shaking his head, though he looked pleased to finally have her full and undivided attention. "It was the little girl, 'is daughter, gods, I can't remember her name – "

"Rhaenys?" Cersei pressed, her green eyes narrowed as a strange feeling of foreboding flooded through her.

"Yes, Rhaenys, that was it!" Gurnar cried triumphantly and enthusiastically.

Cersei forced a smile onto her face, and fought to keep her voice pleasant. "And what was Lord Stark saying about Rhaenys Targaryen?"

Gurnar frowned again, reaching up to scratch his head. "Dunno, really, not much of it made a lick of sense to me. He kept saying that he was sorry and something about a secret that he had promised to protect. I think he's losing his mind, but that's just mine own thoughts – "

"Thank you, Gurnar," Cersei interrupted, her mind racing. "You've done a remarkable job so far, I can assure you that you will be paid handsomely for your work. In the meantime, consider this a token of my appreciation until the job is over." She opened the small chest on the table and pulled out a small bag on coins, placing it on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Gurnar blubbered, bowing his head over and over again. "I'm so happy to serve the royal family – "

"That will do," Cersei interrupted, raising a hand. "Leave me." Gurnar shut his mouth and bowed once more before taking the bag of coins and leaving the sitting room,, shutting the door behind him.

Cersei unconsciously found herself rising from her chair, her brow furrowed as she began to pace the length of the room.

Ned Stark and Rhaenys Targaryen. What was the connection between the two? The girl had already been dead by the time Ned reached King's Landing during the war. Why would he be apologizing to her and what secret had he promised to protect? It was unlikely that he had ever even met the girl. Cersei was almost positive that he hadn't visited the Capital since the girl had been born. Her mind worked furiously, considering all the possible options.

Was he apologizing to her because he had failed to protect her? Because he hadn't reached them before Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch did? But then what secret could he possibly have to protect? Could he have somehow promised her mother, Elia Martell that he would keep them safe? But again, when would they have met in order to make that promise?

Almost unconsciously, a memory arose from the back of her mind. Robert standing in front of Robb Stark's betrothed at Winterfell, his pale face slack with shock as he uttered the name Elia.

No, Your Grace, the girl had murmured, bowing her head. Elia was my aunt, Your Grace. Sister to my father, Prince Doran.

Cersei wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she could about the girl, but admittedly it wasn't much. Truthfully, Cersei didn't pay much attention to events happening in Dorne. She made a mental note to talk to Varys or Littlefinger to see what they knew about this girl Maliya before she continued analyzing her current predicament.

Could Maliya really be Rhaenys Targaryen in disguise? Even she had been shocked at how much the girl had looked like Elia when they had first met, and it was always said that little Rhaenys was the spitting image of her mother. Could this be the secret that Ned Stark had been hoping to protect?

The whole notion seemed impossible, and yet…

Then comes another, a female voice whispered menacingly in her ear. Younger and more beautiful than you. And she will cast you down and take all that you hold dear.

If Maliya Martell were actually Rhaneys Targaryen, then she would stand to inherit the throne if Cersei's own family weren't here. With Rhaegar and Aegon dead, Rhaenys would be next in line, even over that other Targaryen bitch across the sea. Presumably, she had been keeping her identity quiet because of Robert's hatred of the Targaryens. Now that he was dead, however, there was no reason to keep the secret any longer. If she revealed her identity to all of Westeros, there would be some Targaryen loyalists that would no doubt support her since she had a solid, believable claim to the throne. She would come after the Lannisters with a vengeance, killing them for what they had done to her family and she would have the entire support of the North behind her since she was married to the Young Wolf.

That just wasn't an option. Even if the girl wasn't Rhaenys Targaryen, Cersei couldn't take that chance. Her mere existence was a threat to Joffrey's claim to the throne and the rest of her family. Rhaenys was going to have to die – for good this time. And it would have to be done quickly, quietly, and in a way that it wouldn't lead back to her. Cersei was going to make sure of it.

Maliya held Shadow's reins loosely in one hand as she trotted behind Bran and Rickon who were mounted on their own horses. While she had been right in saying that there wasn't much room for them to ride at a faster pace, this had all been worth it to see the twin smiles on both of the boys' faces. They were both excited by the idea of "getting out" for a bit, and while that made her happy, she was seriously wishing that she was curled up in bed right now.

Her stomach wanted to revolt each time that Shadow took a step, the motions of the saddle making her even more nauseous. She drew her cloak tighter around her in an attempt to ward off the ever present chill and shivered. Bran reined in his horse, slowing him down until he was level with Maliya. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about," he began, looking over at her cautiously.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?" Maliya muttered.

"I've been talking with Osha."

"Oh Bran," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I've told you again and again that you shouldn't speak with that woman! She's filling your head with all those ridiculous stories – "

"So you don't believe the things she says?" He asked, looking disappointed.

"You mean her stories of White Walkers, giants, and the children of the forest?" Maliya asked rhetorically, trying desperately to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "No Bran, I'm afraid I don't."

"But don't you remember the man that father executed for deserting the Night's Watch?" Bran pressed, as Maliya looked away to keep an eye on Rickon up ahead. "He had mentioned the White Walkers as well, it was why he fled! Are you saying both of them are lying?"

"What are you trying to say, Bran?" Maliya asked reluctantly, her head turning to look at him.

"I'm just saying that maybe Osha's right. Maybe Robb is marching the wrong way."

After glancing once more at Rickon to make sure he was still in watching distance, Maliya pulled Shadow to a stop and Bran did the same for his horse. "Listen, I wasn't with Osha, I couldn't tell you what experiences she might have gone through. Maybe the White Walkers are back and maybe they're not," she continued, though she was inclined to believe the latter. "Either way, Robb has had to deal with the immediate threat, which is the Lannisters. Family is important above all else and Robb is going to save the rest of your family. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Bran answered, sounding offended. "I just have this bad feeling, Maliya, I can't describe it, but I feel like it has something to do with the three eyed raven."

Maliya had just opened her mouth to respond when Rickon turned his horse around to make his way back to them. He hadn't quite mastered how to sit in the saddle yet, so he bounced with every step that his horse took. "What are you guys waiting for?" He called, circling around them with a giant grin on his face. "I know you said we had to go slow, Maliya, but you guys aren't even moving!"

Maliya fixed her expression into a more pleasant one as her eyes followed the boy. "I'm sorry, Rick. Bran and I were just discussing something." She stopped talking, closing her eyes as Rickon continued to circle around her. "Can you stop moving in circles?" She asked in a breathless voice as the world continued to spin, concentrating with everything she had not to get sick.

"Maliya?" She dimly heard Bran call in alarm, though his voice sounded muffled and far away compared to the roaring in her ears. Realizing that she was officially about to lose the battle against her body, Maliya quickly leaned over Shadow's side and heaved. "Rickon, I need you to go find Maester Luwin! Now!"

"I'm fine," Maliya gasped, trying to assure him as a confused and frightened Rickon took off, bouncing along on his horse back to the castle. "I just – I just need to… get down," she murmured. Swinging a leg over Shadow's saddle, she made to get off her horse and slipped on the way down, missing her footing and crashing to her hands and knees.

With the world still spinning, Maliya was helpless as the blackness came rushing towards her. The last thing she saw before it claimed her was Bran's anxious face above her, still strapped to his saddle as he paced his horse around her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright.

She caught flashes as her consciousness faded in and out. Maester Luwin's worried face above her, a swaying motion as someone carried her into the castle, the movement causing her to get sick once more until she was finally laid on her own bed.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Maester Luwin commanded, as she felt him feeling along her throat and lifting her eyelids to peer into her eyes.

"I don't know!" She heard Bran answer, his voice distressed. "One minute we were talking and then she got dizzy and started throwing up and fell off her horse!"

"Why is she shaking?" Rickon asked fretfully, and Maliya felt the bed dip a little beside her. "Is she going to be alright, Maester Luwin?"

"Don't get too close, Rickon," Maester Luwin warned. "It appears my first assumption was wrong and Lady Maliya has come down with some sort of illness. Her throat is red and swollen, and she's developed a fever." Maliya tried to pry her eyes open, to tell Bran and Rickon that she will be just fine, but the darkness was coming to claim her again and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Her feverish dreams were tangled and confusing, a mixture of flashes that she didn't understand and a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. Maester Luwin and Julina took care of her while she slept, and Bran and Rickon visited her as often as the Maester would allow. Her body alternated between curling up in the fetal position beneath the furs shivering and sweating profusely, her hair clinging to her forehead as she threw the furs away from her.

She was unaware of all of this, however. All she knew was the confusing images that her mind was currently putting her through.

She was flying above a group of people, leisurely flapping her wings as she circled around the lone tent. The sun beat pleasurably on her body and she stretched her neck happily in the resulting heat, her scales rustling softly. The people below her appeared small from her height in the sky, but she could see the commotion going on as they moved into the tent. At this point time seemed to speed up slightly while her vision was obscured, but even from where she was, she could smell the sweet, yet putrid smell of rotting flesh. She heard a distraught woman's voice shouting orders, the sound of a dying horses scream and then the deep, terrible sound of a woman's voice chanting in an ancient language that she didn't understand.

Dark shadows suddenly danced along the tent, and she glimpsed a great wolf and a man wreathed in flames before she snorted and flew a safe distance away. She briefly heard a long, piercing wail of pain before the scene shifted.

There were more flashes now, scenes that flickered in her mind's eye and left before she had the time to make sense of them.

She flew above a ship sailing across the sea, where a familiar looking tall young man with silver blonde hair stood at the prow, his face proud and determined as he comfortably rested a hand on the pommel of his sword.

She flew across a never ending, perfectly blue sky, leagues of grass beneath her. She could feel that she wasn't alone as she flapped her wings as hard and as fast as she could, and sure enough when she turned her head to either side, she could see the others flying alongside her, one of green, one of gold and one of black. They roared triumphantly and she joined in eagerly, adding her flame to theirs.

The scene shifted again and this time she found herself in her real body. She knew, somehow, that she was standing in the middle of a battlefield – she could hear the sounds of swords clashing, of men screaming in pain and horses snorting and neighing. She was standing on one end of the field, dressed in a heavy, long sleeved dress with a high necked collar and a full skirt. On the other end, far away, she could see two figures fighting. Even from this distance she knew who they were.

The shorter one, with curly hair and a fur cloak was Robb, but the other one, the one with the perfect mane of golden hair was the Kingslayer. Jaime Lannister. Everything around her was moving in slow motion. She watched in horror as Jaime began to overpower Robb, sending him to one knee as he frantically raised a sword above his head to deflect another blow. "Robb!" Maliya tried to scream in fear, but neither man appeared to hear her.

Heart pounding a desperate rhythm in her chest, Maliya picked up the ridiculous skirts that she was wearing and began to run. She didn't have her sword with her and she couldn't feel the daggers around her leg but she was going to do everything she could to help her husband, even if she had to crush Jaime Lannister's throat with her bare hands. Except, of course, her legs felt weak and useless and the heavy dress dragging her down so far that she feared she would fall through the ground. She was going to be too late to help him, too late to save him – he was going to die and there was nothing that she could do.

Her heart felt as if it were splintering into a million pieces as she watched the Kingslayer triumphantly thrust his sword through Robb's chest. She let out a piercing scream as she finally drew close enough to see his eyes, those blue eyes that she loved, widen in shock and pain. She could see his blood stain the Kingslayer's sword, heard the sickening sound as he withdrew it from Robb's body and heard the menacing laugh. She pumped her legs harder, urging herself to move faster and finally time seemed to speed up.

Maliya collapsed next to Robb's body, her hands pressing against the gaping wound in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. Tears streamed down her face, her breath coming out in shuddering gasps. "No, no, please no," she chanted frantically, leaning over him. "Robb? Robb, look at me, love, please." His eyes slowly blinked open, searching slowly until they met hers. "You're going to be fine, do you hear me? We just – we just need to find a Maester or a healer…" She looked around wildly, and though she could still hear the battle raging around them, the field was frustratingly deserted.

"Maliya," Robb rasped, coughing painfully and immediately drawing her attention once more. A sob wracked through her body, her thumb reaching out to wipe the trickle of blood that trailed from his mouth. He tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat, gurgling.

"Shhhh," Maliya soothed, trying to control herself as she brushed his hair back. "Don't speak until help arrives."

His brow furrowed in annoyance as he shook his head with a wince. He tried again, concentrating even harder, each word coming out on a painful gasp. "I – love – you." His hand shakily lifted to weakly brush against her cheek and Maliya pressed her face into it, her hand holding his in place. Panic and alarm spread through her when the strength in his arm failed and his eyes glazed over, the spark of life in them fading forever.

"No," Maliya breathed, her eyes flickering over his face frantically. "No! You can't go, you can't leave me! Robb? Robb! Help is coming, you just have to hold on a little bit longer." He wasn't moving, his chest wasn't rising and the truth and reality began to sink in, along with a tidal wave of hopelessness, despair and regret. "I'm sorry," she cried, pressing her face into his chest, her hands gripping the fur cloak. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, I should have been here to save you." She lifted her head, pressing her lips to his lips once more. "I'm sorry. I love you."

With a frantic, shuddering cry, Maliya woke, sitting straight up in bed, her hair plastered to her forehead and neck, drenched in sweat. She automatically pushed at the hands on her arms, her brown eyes wide and wild and it wasn't until the panic faded that she was able to come back down to reality and recognize her surroundings.

"It's alright, My Lady," Maester Luwin soothed when her eyes met his, her heart rate finally beginning to slow down. "Why are you crying? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Maliya ignored him, not even realizing that tears had been streaming down her face. "I made a terrible mistake," she whispered, her hands unconsciously clenching the sleeves of his robe. "I didn't get a chance to tell him – I didn't know, I didn't think I could feel like this – "

"I'm afraid I don't understand, My Lady – "

"Robb, he – he told me he loved me and I…. I didn't say it back," Maliya admitted in a soft voice, her face twisted with regret. "And now it's too late."

"It's never too late," Maester Luwin disagreed. "You could always write a letter to Lord Robb."

"…Yes," Maliya murmured distractedly, his words sparking the beginning of an idea. She couldn't even imagine being able to put all her thoughts and feelings down on paper without it sounding simple or ridiculous. She tried to imagine what it would sound like. Hello Robb. How is the weather faring down south? Things have been just fine here. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry I didn't say it before, but I love you. It's just not something that you send to someone, especially when you say it for the first time.

"Your fever seems to have broken, which is good to see," Maester Luwin muttered to himself, checking her out. "You've been asleep for two days."

Maliya blinked, the news coming as a huge shock to her. "Two days?" She repeated, aghast. "How – Are Bran and Rickon alright?"

"They're fine," Maester Luwin reassured her with a smile. "Just worried about you." Maliya's shoulders slumped with relief at his words, and she slumped back into the pillows, exhausted. "So it turns out you were right, My Lady, you aren't pregnant after all." He hesitated for a moment. "You seemed to certain that you weren't pregnant – may I ask why?"

Maliya's mind raced as she quickly thought of an answer. "I had just had my moon's blood only last week," she answered calmly, for this was actually the truth. "And since Robb has been away longer than that, I knew it just wasn't possible. And I was relieved about that, to be honest. I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to birth and raise a child on my own while my husband is off to war."

"I can understand your reasoning, but Lady Catelyn managed all on her own," Maester Luwin reminded her. "I distinctly remember her saying that she was grateful that she had Robb while Lord Eddard was away."

Well, then Lady Stark and I are two very different people, Maliya thought sarcastically. She decided she wanted to change the subject, as she could hardly focus on the topic at hand with the plan she was currently forming in her mind. "Could you do me a favor, Maester Luwin? Could you send for Julina to bring up some food? I think I'd like to try eating something to get my strength back."

"Of course, My Lady," Maester Luwin smiled, patting her leg and slowly getting up from the bed. "We are all so glad to see that you are feeling better." She gave him a small smile as he walked away and opened the door, but frowned when Maester Luwin abruptly stopped short in the doorway. "Rickon!" He exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing lurking outside of Lady Maliya's room? I told you that I would come find you when she was awake."

"But now you don't have to," Rickon replied cheekily, peering around the maester. "She's awake right? I heard her talking in there."

"It's alright, Maester Luwin," Maliya called from her bed, sitting up higher against the pillows and attempting to make herself look presentable. She wished that she could bathe before he saw her like this, but there was nothing that could be done about that right now. "You can let him in." Rickon pushed past him and hurried into the room, only to stop short a few feet from the bed, looking at her with wide, scared eyes. Maliya tilted her head to the side, her hand jumping to her hair. "What? Do I look that bad? Is my hair changing color? Am I growing a beard on my face?" She gasped, pretending to frantically feel her cheeks. "Oh gods, am I going to have to start shaving like Robb and Jon – "

Her words had the desired effect, making Rickon giggle and roll his eyes at her antics. He hurried to her side once more as she smiled and patted the space beside her, climbing up on the bed and snuggling besides her. "Are you feeling better?" He asked, peering up at her through the fringe of his mop of brown hair. "You were sleeping for a really long time."

"I'm feeling much better," Maliya reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly. "I think I just got a little sick is all. All this cold weather is just finally catching up with me."

"So you're going to be able to get out of bed soon?"

Maliya smiled down at his concerned little face, pulling him closer for a hug. "I will be out of bed very soon. Listen, Rickon – " She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Julina, My Lady. I have the food you requested."

"Come in," Maliya called, giving Julina a smile as she entered the room and put the tray down on the table. "Hey, little man, could you go tell Bran that I'm awake? I'm going to talk to Julina for a minute and then I'll come find the both of you."

"Alright!" Rickon replied happily, surprising her by sitting up and pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek before bounding off the bed and scampering out the door.

"If I may say so, My Lady, I've never seen Rickon take to someone as quickly as he took to you," Julina commented as Maliya sat there, stunned, with a hand to her cheek.

"He's a good boy," Maliya murmured distractedly, before pushing Rickon from her mind and focusing on the task at hand, the small seed of an idea that was already rapidly growing. "Shut the door, please, Julina. There are a few things I need you to do for me." Julina sent her a curious, slightly alarmed look but did as she was told. "I need you to start packing a few things for me. My lighter cloak, only two dresses, both a little lighter than the ones I usually wear." She started listing things off the top of her head, frowning again as she thought out loud. "My black flat heeled boots, my leather gloves… maybe a pair of trousers and metal armor or one of those hard boiled leather or chain mail shirts, definitely a helmet just in case – "

Julina looked both scandalized and horrified. "My Lady," she gasped, eyes wide. "I – I don't understand, why are you talking about battle armor – "

"Oh," Maliya chuckled, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm leaving to go join Robb."

Julina blinked, nonplussed, and completely forgetting her manners. "As in your husband?" She squeaked, her voice higher than usual. "The one who's fighting in a war? You can't!" She spluttered when Maliya nodded. "Women aren't allowed – "

Maliya's eyes narrowed. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do," she warned in a low voice, before explaining herself. "Robb told me he loved me before he left and I've only just now realized that I love him as well, like an idiot! I don't even know what he is probably thinking about me, but I do know that I cannot allow him to go through another day without him knowing how I feel. Being here, away from him, not knowing how he's doing and if he's alright, it's driving me insane, and it's only going to get worse." Maliya sat up straighter, imploring her with her eyes, trying to make her understand. "I belong with him, not away from him. I know that it's dangerous and I know that I'm a woman, but frankly I could care less. I've trained to fight since I was five years old. I'm not afraid and I'm not one to sit by on the side and watch other people fight. I need to do something, I cannot stay here any longer."

Julina, who had been listening to her with her mouth open, swallowed thickly, looking pale. She searched Maliya's determined face for a moment before hesitantly nodding. "Alright," Julina whispered. "I'll gather the things you requested as well as some others that you might need, though it's important that you pack light. When would you need everything ready by?"

"You have a few days, four at most," Maliya instructed. "I'll need clearance from Maester Luwin before I can get up and start walking again and then I'll need to inform him and the boys that I'll be leaving." She refused to think about that part just yet, not wanting to acknowledge the pain in her heart at the mere thought. She also needed some time to sneak into the crypts but she wasn't about to mention that part out loud.

Julina bowed her head slightly and started for the door before turning back after a moment. "You are very brave, My Lady," she said in a soft, genuine voice. "I'm honored to have been given the chance to serve and to help you."

"Thank you, Julina," Maliya whispered. "Would you please send for some hot water so that I can bathe?" The other girl bowed her head once more and left the room. Maliya sat there for another moment, gnawing on her bottom lip as she ran through her plans again and again. First a bath to wash off whatever sickness remains, then a trip to break the news to Bran and Rickon, and finally, one last visit to the crypts. There was no way she was leaving her dragon egg here – she was going to take it with her wherever she went.

Author's Note: So what did you guys think? I threw in a surprise scene from Cersei – she's a tricky character to write, but in the series I view her as a bit more cunning than the stupidity she shows in the books – not much, but a little. Let me know about how you thought I wrote her and the plans that she's coming up with! Then there was the feverish dreams and Dorne has finally been contacted as well – what is Doran going to do?

Next chapter: A visit with the Freys, another scene with Varys and Ned, Maliya says her goodbyes at Winterfell and rides out to meet Robb and tell him how she feels.

Thoughts? Concerns? Wishes, hopes or dreams? Review, please!

Natalie - Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you liked the story! You'll have to continue reading to find the answer to that question!

Boramir - Thanks!

Samantha - I was inwardly freaking out as well! I can't wait to read your thoughts about what Maliya does, thank you so much for reviewing!

Guest 1 - Glad you liked the chapter! We'll find about more about Varys/Ned next chapter!

Guest 2 - And I can't get over how great a compliment that was! Thank you!

louise - Thank you, I'm so glad you liked the chapter! You may get your wish answered sooner than you think!