Am I my Brother's Keeper, Yes I Am

by Alperez16

A different choice after the Battle of the Bastards brings another Stark back from the dead. Together with his brother how does Rickon Stark's living change the Game and what do another King in the North and his bastard brother mean in regards to the return of House Targaryen. An idea suggested by my good friend and co-writer Leilani972 that I just couldn't resist jumping on board

14. The North Remembers

Not in chronological order (takes place before and during Jon/Dany's flight to the Wall)

The Eyrie 304 AC.

Anya Waynwood.

Robin "Sweet Robin" Arryn had clearly been too spoiled in his childhood and no amount of discipline would change that fact, especially since he'd become Lord Paramount at such a young age. Littlefinger's influence had somehow been tempered thanks to Yohn Royce, but even the Lord of Runestone couldn't go against his Liege's wishes. They had all tried their best to make the boy see reason when they heard of Daenerys Targaryen taking of the Iron Throne, but Baelish's hold on Robin was too strong and he refused to send a delegation or to bend the knee to the new Queen.

"Uncle Petyr said I should not do anything until he comes back, so I will wait for him." Robin said almost childishly.

"My Lord, you are the Lord Paramount of the Vale. You are the one to make the decisions ultimately, not Lord Baelish. What will happen if Daenerys Targaryen comes here to ask us to swear fealty?" she asked.

"I will tell her I need time to consult my Regent."

"And what if she doesn't want to wait?" she asked politely.

"Then the Knights of the Vale will have to defend me." the boy answered and she struggled not to roll her eyes.

"You sent most of our skilled forces to save your cousin, yet they are still in Winterfell. We will be at a disadvantage. We need them to come back."

"Uncle Petyr said they needed to stay and I trust his judgment."

Anya had sighed and left it at that, not wanting her Liege to grow angry at her insistence. She'd hoped that in time he would have seen reason, but the news they'd received had soon made the situation far worse.

She had welcomed Littlefinger's death with relief and joy. The man was a nuisance and she had the misfortune to underestimate him at a time when she had needed help, which had then resulted in her and her ward owing him a large sum of money that she was not able to repay. Anya felt a weight lift from her shoulder now that Harrold and herself were free from his influence, yet she still had to suffer the consequences of Baelish's overwhelming presence in the Vale.

Robin was out for blood. He had been furious when word got out of his 'uncle' death and even more so to receive the news of the culprit. That Sansa Stark had been the one to end the worm's life was surprising, to say the least. The girl Anya remembered was a fragile little thing who supposedly needed protection at every turn, hence Littlefinger's presence in the North. She wasn't sure if the girl had played them or if she had been honest, but the things she had said in her letter were pretty damning and knowing Littlefinger and his obsession with the Tully women, more than probable.

"She said he had tried to kidnap her and take her against her will, my Lord." she said trying to make the boy see sense.

"Lies! Lies! He was trying to help her and this is how she repays him? Me? After all that we did for her so she could get her stupid castle back?" he shouted back.

"She said that Lord Baelish had confessed to killing Joffrey Waters and that he forced your mother to kill your father so they could be wed..."

"I know my mother was unstable, but she would never kill my father. She's just trying to sully Uncle Petyr's memory because she doesn't want to be blamed. I want the rest of the Knights of the Vale to get ready. We are to march North for Justice, we march to War."

"Against your family? But, my Lord..." she complained to no avail.

"They killed Uncle Petyr when he so graciously helped them! Sansa Stark needs to pay for her crimes and the North does too for being complicit. Call the Maester, we are calling the banners."

"No!" she said emphatically to a shocked look from a boy who had heard the word far too little in his life.

"Did you just say -"

"Yes, I said I will not do it. We are not in a position to go to war, Your Grace. You can petition the new Queen, bend the knee to her and then ask her for retribution if you -" she never got to finish her words as he interrupted her in mid-conversation.

"To hell with this Queen! I was supposed to be King in the North and the Vale and have Sansa married to me. Then we would unite our forces with Uncle Edmure and see how high she would fly from the Moon Door!" Robin said almost gleefully.

So that was the Mockingbird plan, right from the beginning? Have the North bend the knee to Sansa Stark and once they had, then he'd see her married to Robin? Then he'd see the girl dead, she doubted that last bit very much and what worried her was that this idiot who she was to follow, had believed him. Shaking it from her mind, she tried again to make him see sense.

"She has Dragons, my Lord. Going against Daenerys Targaryen would be the worst thing you can have us do."

"I don't care about the Dragon bitch! I want Sansa Stark to pay and I will make her suffer for what she's done!"

Anya turned to look at her son Morton and gave him a little nod so he could handle the situation. Too blinded by his rage, Robin didn't see him coming and gasped as the knight seized both of his arms.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!"

"We are trying to prevent you from making a grave mistake, my Lord. Going after the North for someone like Lord Baelish would be seen badly by most of the Vale."

"This is the right thing to do!"

"No, the right thing is to let Daenerys Targaryen deal with it the way she sees fit. We have to bend the knee to her first and foremost." she said firmly.

"I will not bend the knee if I'm supposed to be king!" Robin asserted.

"No, you are not and I doubt such thinking will gain favor with Daenerys Targaryen either. She will need a strong man to help her rule, and you're far too weak for that." Anya sneered.

"I am your Liege!" he yelled.

"Then you should act like it for once, instead of trying to avenge someone who put you and the Vale in the worst possible position."

"What do you mean?"

"If what Sansa Stark says -" she began only to be interrupted again.

"She is a liar!"

"Why have we received no word of our Knights who had left for the North?" she continued, ignoring the boy's outburst. "Either they are dead, have been taken hostage, or something else is happening that prevents them from sending word or from returning. We do not know anything about what is going on with them or with the North itself, and we need to know where they stand."

"What does it change if -"

"May the Seven give me strength." she said exasperatedly "Do you understand anything about strategy or politics at all?" she asked as she tried to contain her annoyance. "What did your Maester teach you? Did Littlefinger give you any lessons or did he keep you in the dark? By the gods, The Vale is doomed if you cannot even understand that with half of our forces held up North, nobody would take the risk to fight against them in fear of casualties among the prisoners."

"You have no right to talk to me like that." he said as petulant as ever.

"Oh, but I do. You have been a pain in the Vale's arse ever since you have been named Lord Paramount. First, you allowed your mother to make us turn our back on our former allies, on your supposed family and then you let a man with no rights, no status, lead us as he saw fit because you have no backbone. You are not fit to be a Lord, let alone a Lord Paramount, and it is high time to make some changes here."

"I will have your head for that! I will!" Robin threatened, looking at the few people present in the High Hall who, unfortunately for him, were all in agreement with her.

"Look around you, my Lord," she said mockingly. "These men are all people loyal to the Vale, not to you. You never had our best interests at heart, never once thought about anyone else but yourself. No one here will risk his life for someone like you. Morton, do what you must. Our Liege is in need of rest after so much turmoil."

"I am not tired!" the brat yelled as Anya dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

She stared at the other knights, daring them to move as Robin Arryn was led screaming to his room. Some of them looked away, probably conflicted about the whole ordeal, yet Anya was not. She would have arrested him if she could, or thrown him from the Moon Door for all the troubles the brat and his Regent had caused so far, but it would have complicated things with his remaining kin and mayhap the new Queen as well. Though on the last one mayhap not.

Poison would be his fate, a quick and painless death for he was still a boy and Anya was not cruel enough to wish him to suffer. She would send a letter to the Queen and to Robin's family explaining that the shock of learning of Littlefinger's death was too much and that his weak heart failed him. As for his succession, Lord Harrold Hardying was more than ready to do his duty and bend the knee to the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Anya had heard it said that the Queen was a true beauty, just as her mother had been, and she was of an age similar to his as well.

She dared not hope for more than the title of Lord Paramount for Harry, whom she'd raised as Jon Arryn's and then Robin's heir when the worm had survived infancy. Yet once she'd decided what she needed to do, she had then thought long and hard about the Queen's prospects in Westeros. Dorne and the Reach were already sworn to the Targaryen woman and had nothing more to offer her. Not that Daenerys would enjoy being wed to Horror or Slobber Redwyne, who were the best and the worst prospects of the Reach, anyway, no matter who their grandmother was. Edmure Tully was not a great choice either, because of the history between the Targaryens and the Rebels, and his marriage to the Frey girl was still valid to this day.

While she had heard tales of a possible infatuation with the Imp, and rumors that the supposed kinslayer would be her Hand, It had been Olenna Tyrell who had gotten the role, which was a rather smart move considering Tyrion Lannister's reputation. The Stormlands and the Crownlands had no one of value to offer, which left the Vale and the North to be alone in the race to find an interesting and suitable man for the new queen to wed. With Rober off the table and now Harry taking his place, the promise of the Knights of the Vale to defend her interests should she ally with him would sound appealing. Especially in comparison to the rebellious North and their savage boy king. She would have to discuss this with the new Hand when the problem of the Vale's succession would be solved and Harry was officially named Lord Paramount, but the more she thought of it, the more she began to find hope in the idea.

It was the first step in the right direction for the Vale, and she prayed that it would not be the only one she was able to guide it towards in the days to come.

King's Landing 304 AC.

Tyrion.

He'd been forced to agree to accept a weasel as his heir. True Walder had lion's blood in him too on his mother's side, but he was a weasel all the same. Not even knowing just how much his father would have been annoyed by such a thing was enough to remove his own anger at what he'd been forced to agree to. His aunt Genna had made it clear that he would not be welcomed in the West and Lord of Casterly Rock was not as big a prize as it had once been. Still, it was his, what he'd deserved and been owed, and to have the joy of finally getting it to be ruined by thoughts of the heir that had been foisted upon him, well that was not something he'd take lying down.

Nor was the fact that he was not welcome on the Small Council, not now, not in the future, and not ever. It was bad enough they had taken his pin from him and placed it on the withered old cunt's chest, but there was to be no place for him at all. Once again he was being reminded of what he was and what everyone thought of him. Even the drink didn't stop the feelings of hatred and anger that he wished to give into more and more. Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Olenna Tyrell, Varys, even Ellaria Sand, who while she'd done nothing to him personally and though he'd long gotten over Myrcella's death, had still found a place on his list. A list of names that he wished to see pay for all of the indignities they'd inflicted upon him.

The problem he had, the question he'd thus far found no answer to, was how? How could he make them pay for all they'd done to him? For all that they'd taken from him? What means could he use to get to his end? What tools did he have at his disposal? So far he'd found few answers to those questions and burying himself in the whores at Chataya's or drinking himself to a stupor wasn't helping him any. Not in the search for those answers and not even to allow him to forget what it was that filled him with so much hatred in the first place.

"Will my lion not rise?" the girl said, her blond hair and green eyes no longer looking like the silver and violet he'd imagined them to be when he was deeper into his cups.

Imagining himself laying with the queen had been the one moment of brief respite from how he truly felt that he got. Picturing Daenerys as she took his manhood in her mouth or as she rode on top of him, was almost as pleasurable to him as forcing himself upon her or at least that the mummery of doing so with a whore was. Yet now as he looked down at the girl and watched her hold his shrunken and flaccid manhood in her hands, it was a different queen he saw. One that he had imagined forcing himself upon too, though he'd imagined choking the life out of her when he did so.

"Leave me." he said, reaching for his coin purse and paying the girl, before sitting up on the bed and pouring himself a drink, one that he swallowed quickly.

He shuddered at the thoughts of Cersei, the girl in truth looking far more like his sister than she ever did Daenerys. Though it was the latter who'd taken the place of his sister in his heart. She who he wished to see fall and suffer now far more than he did his sister, though he wished to see her fall too. The laugh he let out was a bitter one, and soon a twisted one as the thoughts ran through his head. Daenerys had replaced Cersei on her walk of shame and he stood at the Red Keep as she fell to her feet in front of him. Jon Snow was being torn to pieces by lions, his wolf's head then placed where his own had once been and his body paraded in front of everyone just as his brother's had been.

They were but wasted thoughts and impossible dreams. The truth of it was that any vengeance he sought could not be so blatant and public. He wasn't in the position to make them suffer so, he wasn't even in the position to make them suffer or pay at all. Yet pay they would. All he had to figure out was how. He rose from the bed and made his way to the privy, relieving himself before getting dressed, and then with his guards, he strolled out from the room and past the whores and Chataya herself. Once outside he turned to speak to Bronn and then cursed himself when he remembered the man was far from here. Tyrion found the first true smile of the day then coming to his face as he thought about what he'd sent him to do.

"You want me to kill who?" Bronn asked as they sat and drank together.

"Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell." he said and Bronn looked at him with doubt in his eyes.

"You'll be paid well, I promised you a keep did I not?"

"And how the fuck are you going to get me a keep?" Bronn snorted.

"I'm not without power." he said, affronted.

"Just not as much as you once had. You're no longer Hand of the Queen, Tyrion, nor are you Warden of the West."

"I'm still Lord of Casterly Rock, still sitting on a mountain of gold." he lied.

"Aye, there's that."

"If we play this right, I'll be Hand once more and I'll see you get whichever keep you wish."

"Highgarden." Bronn said and Tyrion almost choked on his wine.

"You can't be…"

"Highgarden. You want me to kill Snow and face either him or that fucking wolf of his, then Highgarden is my price."

"Highgarden." he said, spitting in his hand and looking at Bronn who didn't do likewise at first "I'll take care of the withered rose." he said and then breathed in relief when Bronn spat in his own hand and shook his.

It was easy enough for Bronn to make his way to the North with the queen's armies. Tyrion not truly listening when he'd told him something about Ellaria's daughter and how she'd almost make the journey worthwhile alone, for he was far too busy picturing Jon Snow's death. How soon he'd know and hear of it was another question he had no answer to. As was how he'd get Bronn what he'd promised him. Though the other question that then brought to mind was one that he very much knew the truth of. Should he fail to do as he'd promised, then Bronn would end him without a moment's hesitation.

As he entered the tavern that he'd taken as his base, the smell of the perfume hit him. Walking up the stairs and to his room, he bid the guards take up their positions and opened the door to find Varys sitting there waiting for him. Just as he had done the last two times that Varys had come to visit him here, Tyrion contemplated calling his guards and giving them the order to end the man's life. He too had betrayed him and had cared not for his fall and he too he'd see pay, but only when it suited him best and so for now at least, the Eunuch could breathe easily.

"What do you want?" he asked with no friendliness in his tone, those days long past.

"To see how you are my lord, to ask why you're still here." Varys said, his eyes looking far too deeply into Tyrion's own and forcing him to turn from him as he moved to the jug of water on his table and poured himself a mug full.

"As well as any deposed Hand can be, Varys, can you not see." he said bitterly, no need for mummery with a man who knew how to be one better than any.

"You know why you lost your pin, Tyrion. Despite my words of advice you continued to speak ill of the queen's soon-to-be husband."

"Speaking ill of bastards loses one's position now does it? What a wonderful new world our glorious queen wishes to create." he said disdainfully.

"Speaking ill of that one does." Varys said and Tyrion took a swallow from his mug to cover up the snarl on his face.

"I shall leave soon enough. Once I've had my fill of wine and whores, then I'll head to my seat." he said as Varys rose to his feet.

"See that it's soon, Tyrion, lest it not be your choice to do so."

He watched as Varys walked from the room, the urge to run after him and stick his knife in the eunuch's back the way he'd done so to him, almost overpowering him. Yet as he had last time and the time before it, he allowed him to leave unmolested. Truth be told there was no advantage in Varys's death for him, not yet, and only when there was would he see the man fall. Sighing as he took his seat and looked around his room for wine that he didn't find, he soon found himself wallowing once more.

There had been a time when he'd considered Varys to be as close to a friend as he had. A confidante and someone he could match wits with, someone that knew his true worth and accepted him for that and that alone. He'd told him that he'd saved the city, that it was he and not his father or the Tyrells, nor his sister who'd done so. That had it not been for him and what he'd done at Blackwater Bay, it would have been Stannis Baratheon who sat the Iron Throne and he, his family, and the Realm itself would suffer greatly because of it.

Reaching for the jug of water, his hands brushed against it and it crashed to the floor. His guards rushed into the room only to be waved away as he watched the water flow across the floorboards. Where the idea came from he knew not, but as he knelt on the floor and wiped up the mess himself, he did so with a smile on his face, it was one that he wore a lot over the next few days.

The mind was a wonderful thing and his own was as sharp as ever. It may have taken him more time than he'd have wished for, but he'd gotten there in the end and now all he needed was a little more time to see it done. As he pictured their ends, saw them as they fell and he rose once again, he began to laugh. Later that night as he spilled his seed once again in the whore, as he looked down at her and saw her silver hair and violet eyes, he laughed. He laughed the laughter of a mad man. It was a laugh that this city had heard many times before and when the thought came to his mind and the whore looked at him in confusion, he couldn't stop the words that came to his mouth had he tried.

"He who laughs last laughs loudest" he said as his laughter rang around the room.

King's Landing, 304 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

Being in King's Landing was hard for her. The Ghost of Margaery was everywhere in the Red Keep and Olenna struggled to keep her composure when she had to listen to petitions in the Throne Room. She thanked Varys for his foresight when he suggested for them and anything related to her work to take place at the private chamber in the Tower of the Hand. A place that she would still have to make her own and one that didn't hold so many memories of her granddaughter.

Olenna had buried herself into work as soon as she was given the pin, a feat she was still trying to process. Never had it been given to a woman once in its history, and for her to be the first one in this position was as much a burden as it was an honor. The fact that Jon Snow had had a hand in her nomination pulled the scale even more onto the latter.

She hoped he would not be cross with her once he would discover the truth about himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she played the game with him as a pawn, for as much as it could be seen as such, it was not her intention at all. She had written a letter to him begging his forgiveness and giving him a little advice of her own, and she prayed it would be enough for him to understand where she stood.

After getting ready for the day, she started it by meeting with Varys in her new solar to review the latest raven they had received, the first one making her sigh with relief.

"Our Queen has arrived safely in White Harbor, as have our forces. She is already traveling to Winterfell with them and will send word as soon as she gets there." she said though she knew that Varys already knew such.

"I can imagine how eager she is to get to Jon Snow's keep..." Varys tittered.

"Well, I would be too if I was in her position." she chuckled.

"I just hope that the new developments in the North will not hinder her excitement." Varys sighed.

"Baelish's death is a good thing." she replied curtly.

"I know, I find it surprising that he'd managed to stay alive this long while in what should have been his enemy's territory. However, the Vale might call for a trial and I doubt they will like the outcome. It might put our Queen in a difficult position."

"I highly doubt that. With the proof we gave her about his treachery and his crimes, it would be a stupid move for any in the Vale to defend him." she said looking to the eunuch.

"Robin Arryn is not known to be the smartest, my Lady."

"If he values his position, he will shut his trap." she retorted, seizing another parchment. "The Riverlords have left Seagard and are traveling to Sea Dragon Point to join the rest of our forces."

"Good. Lord Devan has left and is on his way. The West is happy with our choice of Warden, they do however show much discontent with the new Lord of Casterly Rock."

"It was bound to happen. I am glad that the queen listened to at least some of our advice, as having Tyrion Lannister too close would have made her disliked by a lot of people."

"I do not like him still being around." Varys added. "A wounded lion is the most dangerous of them all. Look at what he did when he was close to losing his head. Rather than fleeing quietly, he opted to kill Tywin and make a statement."

"I know. We should watch him carefully."

"I never stopped watching him, my Lady." Varys said with the mischievous tone she had grown to enjoy.

"Should we encourage him to leave?" she asked curiously.

"I have already let him know that he has overstayed his welcome. A pity, truly, that he chose the wrong path. When he doesn't let his emotions get the best of him, he is quite competent." Varys said regretfully.

"Let him show his competent skills at Casterly Rock. By that time Jon and Daenerys will be married and Tyrion will start building his reputation anew. One day he might be useful, but that day is not today."

"Indeed. Besides, there are more pressing matters to take care of other than Tyrion Lannister. My little birds have told me that Archmaester Marwyn is on his way here and eager to bring us more information about the Long Night. Are we sure about him? He is not much appreciated in the Citadel."

"Princess Sarella has vouched for him. She had been his acolyte until recently and believes him to be less of an idiot than the others."

"They still haven't responded to our summons?" Varys asked, frowning when Olenna shook her head. "This is unfortunate. The Queen will not like that."

"And she will be right not to. Hopefully, we can manage to pull their heads out of their arses with Marwyn's help." she said, frowning in turn when Varys didn't respond. "What troubles you?"

"I was wondering if their inaction had something to do with what our guest had previously found."

"You mean the journal the wildling girl gave you?" she asked.

"This girl was Samwell Tarly's companion. He had been tasked to transcribe the journal. What if they know about what was in it?"

"Did the girl say anything about this?"

"She said Samwell didn't mention anything and she didn't know why the book was so important to me. She then said something about stairs and glass windows, but I didn't feel the need to elaborate further."

"Then we shall have to wait until Daenerys and Jon unite to see how they react to it and then act accordingly." she declared and Varys nodded. "How about our… Guest?"

"Still pleading for an audience so he could go back to his City. He was most discomfited when the Queen left and the fact that you keep ignoring his demands makes him desperate." Varys said with another titter.

"Good. We need him to understand how much trouble he has put his superiors in by backing the wrong person." she retorted, annoyed.

"He swore nothing had been decided yet, my Lady. That he was waiting for Cersei to show proof of her good faith and that we caught him off guard by attacking the City."

"Send for him. I think it is high time I have a word with this man who thinks we are idiots of the like he's dealt with before."

Varys nodded and walked swiftly out of the solar, the momentary solitude enough for Olenna to try and control her anger. As soon as she learned that a representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos was in the Red Keep's rooms, she'd understood what it had entailed. She knew from Mace's time as Master of Coin that the Crown owed an immense debt to the bank. Added to what she'd heard from Jon, Stannis too had struck a deal with them in exchange for coin for the Wall and his war against Cersei under the condition that all the debts owed would be paid by him should he win the Iron Throne.

That they had then come to Cersei when they hadn't extended the same courtesy to Daenerys showed clearly who they wanted to support. The Queen's times in Essos would have had a negative aspect on the bankers' affairs, as most of the Masters from Yunkai, Astapor, and Meereen would have lost their income due to the end of slavery. Would that be enough for them to wish to see the Queen fail or would there be an ulterior motive?

As the Hand of the Queen, it was her responsibility to deal with any possible threat to her reign, and she would take great pleasure in seeing the man cower in front of her, more so knowing how Cersei wanted to repay her debt.

"Master Nestoris." she greeted him coldly, not bothering to lift her head from the report she had already read.

"I thank you, Lady Olenna, for receiving me today. There is much to speak about regarding the Crown -"

"Is there? I thought all was in order?" she said, feigning incomprehension.

"Well… No, my Lady. The Crown's debt -" Tycho stuttered.

"What debt? As far as I know, you've reached an agreement with the former Queen regarding her, her husband, and her son's debt. Isn't it why you were here in the first place?"

"Ah, um… We did reach an agreement, but -"

"Then it is settled. We will have no need for your services for the time being. House Tyrell will provide the finances for the Queen's new balance, and we will use this coin to start our work here."

"Queen Cersei has not paid her due, Lady Olenna -"

"And how is it my or the Queen's concern? As far as I know, Cersei Lannister is not dead and Queen Daenerys has won the throne by right of conquest, not succession. She is not responsible for the Lannisters or Baratheon's debt. If you have concerns about the previous debts then you should address them to who you dealt with. You have the means to look for Cersei Lannister do you not?"

"The Iron Bank will not look kindly on -" Tycho began but she didn't let him finish, interrupting him much to his annoyance.

"The Iron Bank should cut their losses and rejoice that we are still willing to work with them in the future. You will not get all of Higharden's gold and valuables as you were hoping to thanks to Cersei sacking my home, but I am willing to give you some of it. Take it and tell your masters that this is all they will get for betting on the wrong person." she said firmly.

"But -"

"Truly, I cannot imagine what you thought backing Cersei against us would benefit you. You knew Queen Daenerys had Dragons. You live in Essos, you heard of what she's done there. You knew she was set on conquering Westeros. I would say it is a shame to see you fail, but you were about to rob me of everything I own, so do not expect pity from me, Nestoris."

"The debt -"

"Is none of Daenerys' concern. And if you plan to threaten her in any way, shape, or form, I pray that you do so carefully and know that doing so will have dire consequences."

"Is that a threat?"

"Oh, far from that, dear Master," she sneered. "I just know of some of the methods you may use to collect your debts. Sending an army of sellswords will not do against the Seven Kingdoms, nor will sending an assassin. You must know as well as I do that all the assassinations attempted on Her Grace in Essos have failed. And I doubt her dragons would stand idle as someone threatens their mother's life. So this time, the Iron Bank will not have its due. Is that all?"

She could see the man's repressed anger at being denied. The fact that she was a woman well versed in politics probably irritated him more since he was used to the Lions' antics. No doubt that Cersei, the whore she that she was, would have tried to sleep with him to get away with more time to pay her debts, but that was not and had never been one of Olenna's methods. Tyrion would have given the man honeyed words full of emptiness but would have then agreed to his terms anyway, bankrupting the realm in the process. Olenna though was a Tyrell, she knew her subject as well as any man playing the game and would tolerate no-nonsense. She would have shown her thorns to the banker for Margaery's sake, and somehow she was starting to feel a kinship with the new rulers of Westeros that would push her to do the same for Daenerys and Jon Snow.

"Have no fear, Master. We know of the importance of the Iron Bank and will continue to foster our relationship. Rest assured that we look forward to prospering with you in the future."

"But you will not pay the Crown's debt, that's your final answer?" he asked angrily.

"We will not, but we will be more than happy to help you find the one who has to repay hers." she answered, smirking at him. "Should you need Her Grace's help, you need only ask."

"I will keep that in mind, Lady Hand. Thank you for your time."

"And I thank you for not making me lose too much of mine."

With a nod to the flustered banker, she watched him leave and sighed loudly. She would need to send word to the Queen and Jon Snow, so they would stay on their guard. She had wanted to expose the attempt on Jon's life, but she couldn't link the Faceless Man sent to end him with the Iron Bank. Cersei would not have enough coin to order his execution and Tycho Nestoris didn't bat a lash when she hinted at assassins.

She hoped she had dealt with him the right way. Olenna wasn't one prone to second-guessing herself, but her trysts with Cersei Lannister taught her not to be overconfident. She had thought she had the upper hand all along and paid dearly for it. She had lost so much. So much that she didn't feel she had a reason for living besides making Cersei pay for what she did to her family. It wasn't until she had met with Jon Snow that she'd realized she had still much to live for. She still had a family to take care of, and the news of her daughter being with child showed her that her legacy wasn't lost yet.

As she dined with her Goodson and granddaughter later that night, she observed Desmera with a proud smile. She was a smart girl, a true beauty with a lot of compassion.

"Have you decided what to do with Dickon Tarly, Grandmother?" Desmera asked when she caught her look her way.

"I haven't. Randyll will die, I will not change my mind on that. Melessa Tarly though has pleaded for her son's life and truly, with the death of her oldest one, I do not think it would be a good thing to see the other die as well."

"I understand he needs to be punished for his crime, but he had followed his father's wishes. I think that sending him back to his family while putting his sister as Lady of Horn Hill will be punishment enough." Desmera said, a contemplative look on her face as she spoke.

"Give his title to his sister, huh?"

"And force her to wed someone you trust, so the Tarly name ceases to exist." Desmera suggested shyly.

"You have someone in mind already, have you?" Olenna asked as her curiosity was piqued.

"Well, I was thinking of Ser Humfrey Hightower or cousin Denys, but more of the latter. I do not know who you have in mind for me, grandmother, but either one of them is a nice choice and would be loyal to you."

"You have thought about marrying already?"

"Of course! Ever since you told me that you wanted me to become the new Lady of Highgarden, I… I hope it was not too presumptuous. I mean, if you have already chosen someone for me, I would -"

"I have to admit that I haven't, dear. I realize now that I have neglected you and your upbringing. I haven't looked for your prospects and I haven't spent much time with you either. I haven't been the best of grandmothers to you and your brothers." Olenna said, showing her regret clearly.

"The fact that you gave me the opportunity of living in Highgarden rather than Hobber is enough for me to know that you think highly of me. I have no doubt that if I had asked you to find me a good husband, you would have done it, grandmother. " Desmera offered reassuringly.

"But I haven't spent much time with you, my dear. Not as much as I did with Margaery. I do not want you to think that I am trying to replace her with you, or that I loved you less."

Desmera reached over and pressed Olenna's hand as she gave her a sad smile.

"There was never a competition between Margaery and me, Grandmother. You were closer, you lived together and I totally understand that the bond between you two was strong, and I have never felt less loved by you or threatened by her position. You always looked out for me and mother, I know this to be true and I know you love me too."

"That I do, child…" Olenna said, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. "So, you would like to wed Ser Humfrey?"

"I would do whatever it takes for the good of my House." her granddaughter answered resolutely.

"And I would like you to be happy. Humfrey is a better prospect than Denys, so if this is what you want, I will talk to Leyton about it."

"You will?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you, grandmother!" Desmera exclaimed, beaming with joy.

"Do not thank me yet, child. Leyton still has to accept the offer."

"Who would refuse the Queen of Thorns?" her granddaughter countered with a knowing smirk.

She huffed and feigned focusing on her meal, realizing that Desmera was right. She was in a position she had dreamed of for so long. All her life she had wished for her house to grow strong and to share power with a beautiful, fair, and just queen. She had hoped that queen would be Margaery but the Gods had other plans. Olenna wished she would have known about them first. Her family wouldn't have lost that much, but she might not be where she was either. It was hard to think of her position as a blessing given how much she'd lost, but she would make the best of it, for the rest of her family.

Lys 304 AC.

Cersei.

She felt the waves come over her, the feeling of falling as she screamed out his name. The words he whispered in her ear were almost enough to take her over the edge and yet it was the feeling of him as he took her that did so in the end. Feeling his seed dripping down the inside of her leg, she rose from the bed and moved to the large bowl of water, washing herself before she poured them both some wine and made her way back to the bed.

There had been much she'd had to do to keep his interest from waning, things she'd done with no man before and which had she thought too much about them, would have shamed her somewhat. Yet needs must and the last thing she could afford was to get on Euron's wrong side. She'd seen already on this journey what happened when you were unlucky enough to do so and it was not the fate she wished for herself.

Handing him his drink, she lay back down and sipped on her own and then began to engage him in conversation. Unlike most men she'd lain with, Euron always wished to speak after sex, to go over his plans and to have his ego propped up and she'd learned well how to do each of those things. While there was no one on this ship other than the warlocks who could tell her the truth of the man to who her fate was now tied, Euron himself was not shy in speaking of how many women and children he'd given to the sea. A Kinslayer above all kinslayers was who she had made her bed with and it was far better to lie in it with him than find there was no place for you in it.

"Do we have the men, my love?" she asked him as he for once sipped his wine.

"For Meereen, Aye, for Westeros, no." he said and she somehow held the shiver that her body wished to make.

"But you have a plan for Westeros too do you not?" she asked and there was no need to turn to see his smiling face.

"Aye, I do."

What that plan was she knew not, he'd not tell her no matter how many times she asked and she felt that were her name, not Cersei Lannister, then even the things she did for him in the bed-chamber wouldn't be enough for her to be a part of that plan. Her name and her willingness to debase herself were the only reasons she lived still. That and the miscarriage that she had. Euron wished to see what a babe of theirs looked like and so he was doing all he could to put one in her belly. Cersei found herself hoping that his seed would take root soon as there was only so much patience he'd allow himself.

Soon he began to drift off to sleep and she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Though not a full mummery, it was a mummery all the same that she was forced to act out when with him and the danger of slipping was ever-present. Only when he was asleep was that danger ever truly removed and now that he was, her mind began drifting to the things it usually did when it was fully her own once more.

The first of those things was as always the thoughts of ending the man who lay beside her. Of doing so before he did it to her and those thoughts grew each day that she was with him. He was defenseless, the risk to her was almost nothing, and yet just as she had each time she picked up the knife and held it in her hand, this time she placed it back on the table beside their bed. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him and was in no real position to take his life. Without him, she was lost and alone and the vengeance she sought would be far out of her reach. Even despite the incredible wealth that Euron had managed to acquire over the years, her life should he fall was one that would be fraught with uncertainty at best.

His men were untrustworthy and like as not to kill her as to listen to her. She had none of her own and where with other men she could use her body to entice them, these men she felt would simply use and discard her without another thought. So the ship, its bounty, and mayhap even her life would be lost to her should Euron die. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift to the thoughts of vengeance and the suffering that she'd bring those who had taken so much from her and she reveled in the images that came to her head. The Imp tied to the bow of The Silence and gasping for breath as each and every wave flowed over his oversized head. A bastard wolf tied to the mast as pieces of his flesh were cut from him every single day and as for the Dragon Bitch, she'd suffer most of all.

"Give her to the men, let them treat her like the whore she truly is." she said almost gleefully.

"Shall we gag her, my love?"

"No, I wish to hear her scream."

"As my queen commands."

The thoughts were enough for her ardor to rise once more and though he slept, it almost mattered not. Cersei opened her eyes to see her hand had reached out to take his cock in it while her other one moved down between her legs to find the wetness she knew would be there. This time when she closed her eyes it was to the movement of both her hands that she did so. Yet it was not images of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, or of her Demon Monkey of a brother that she pleased herself to. Nor was it Euron's cock that she held in her hand and who she stroked to hardness.

"Jaime, Jaime, my love. I freed you. I'd never leave you behind, we are two halves of a whole, one heart that beats as one." she cried out as he moved to take her.

"My love, my sister, my queen."

She felt the fall once more, this climax even more powerful than the one that Euron had wrought from her earlier. His seed this time spilled over her hand and when she opened her eyes once more, it was to the disappointed sight of the man who lay next to her and not the man she wished him to be. That he had slept through her ministrations was both annoying to her and very much not. Rising to clean first herself and then him, she soon found herself dressing and making her way to the deck of the ship. The silent freaks that made up Euron's crew all moved from her path as she did so. While he lived they deferred to her as if she was him and would they just do so were he to die, then mayhap she'd give in to the temptation she had to kill him. For now, she was just as trapped as they were, just as much a prisoner as any of them and she only hoped that she'd get the chance to either break free or turn the tables on her jailor.

Later that day as they left Lys behind and sailed further east, she once again let vengeance be her guide. They'd take the city first and soon enough the Dragon Bitch would find out what it felt like to lose what was precious to her. It wouldn't be the last thing she'd take from her before she took her life, not by a long shot and once it was done and she had Jaime beside her and in her bed once more, then she'd be in control of her fate as she was always meant to be. Suffering and pain she'd bring to those who'd forced her to be what she was now, suffering and pain, and soon they'd hear her roar.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Ser Davos.

There was nothing Davos hated more than being caught in a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. To face people he'd rather see dead for crimes they'd committed and yet were still alive because they were needed was almost eating him from the inside. He already knew that life was unfair, that good people were suffering when the bad ones enjoyed their lives as if the others were nothing to them. He had lost his son and the girl he had considered his daughter and people still found excuses as to why those responsible for their deaths could still breathe.

He had been furious to see Melisandre coming back. No matter how many times he was warned of her return, the hatred he felt for the Red Woman was too strong and he couldn't help but feel let down by Jon. Davos had lived up to his promise, he had protected Rickon to the best of his abilities and stood by the King's side while Jon was away. Was it so difficult to return the favor?

Bran's words came to his mind and fuelled his anger. He knew that the boy was trying to sew discord between his family members although he didn't understand the reason for it, and Davos had felt like a pawn in his scheme every time Bran had talked to him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal nor could he help himself from thinking that he was right.

He had wanted to rage at Jon, but the lad was not himself from the moment he had been back in Winterfell. Davos could tell that something was bothering him and the events following his arrival didn't help. Though he was glad to see the Stark children showing a now truly united front, even if he wouldn't have wished for Sansa Stark to go through such a traumatic event to finally realize she could trust her family. It made him think on his own, of his wife and sons.

He missed them, though. A lot. Every time he stared at Rickon, who was of an age with his youngest, he couldn't help but think of Steffon. He had sent a letter to Marya, after the battle of Blackwater, and had received no response. He took that as a sign that he wouldn't be forgiven for Matthos' death and so he'd never tried to reach out to her again, only praying that they were still in good health. He didn't know if they were still at Cape Wrath or if Marya had taken his advice to leave for Braavos was Stannis was to be defeated, and as much as he wished he knew, he felt that they were better off without him.

"You're frustrated." he heard from behind him and turned away quickly to see Arya Stark facing him.

"I..."

"Rickon told me about what the Red Woman did to Lady Shireen." she said and Davos looked away. "We may not have the same reason to hate her and to want her dead, but I do have her on my list too and I find it difficult to see her breathe and not to do anything."

"Why is she on your list?" he asked, curious.

"She took Gendry away. Gave the Brotherhood a pouch of coin and took him away from..." he smiled softly when she caught herself, knowing what she would have said. "She wanted him for who he was, is, and I have no doubt that she would have seen him dead had you not freed him."

"Yet he is alive and you keep avoiding him."

"This... This is not the time to dwell on the past nor one for a heartfelt reunion. Do not look at me like that!" she growled and he couldn't help but laugh. "I know what you're thinking, but this is not the same. I was relieved to see him alive, but he came back with those who sold him as if it was nothing! As if he hadn't suffered from their betrayal!"

Davos realized it was the first time he'd seen the girl behave this passionately for someone who wasn't her family. From what he had gathered from Gendry since Arya didn't talk much about her past, she had been smuggled out of the city by a man of the Watch and had traveled with Gendry for a long time. They had faced horrors in Harrenhal that the lad didn't want to reminisce about and their bond had strengthened during their time of captivity. The loss of Gendry might have hurt her deeply as he was the one she was connected to, and that she didn't want to be hurt again was understandable. After all, who was he, a man who had been avoiding his family since the Battle of Blackwater Bay, to judge her?

"You should talk to him." he said and lifted his hand in defense when she glared at him. "Hear him out, learn how he survived and why he chose to follow the Brotherhood. You never know, you might be surprised by his motives."

"Mayhaps..." she sighed pensively before shaking her head. "As for you, Ser Davos, I think you should do the same with my brother. You may think he went back on his word because he owes the Red Woman for Rickon's life, but I know now there's more to it. I still do not trust her, not around Jon, not after... But I think you need to clear the air with him."

He nodded and then resolved to have that conversation, only to back down as he faced Jon. Seeing how lost he was had once more made him forget about his resentment.

When he got summoned by the Queen herself, Davos wasn't sure he should go. Yet he was a man of the South, her subject in all but name, and he was curious as to why she would want to see him. He was even more surprised to find out she was alone and that neither Rickon nor Jon were there.

"Have a seat, Ser Davos," she said warmly as he did so. "You probably wonder why I asked specifically for us to meet?"

"Aye, Your Grace. I do."

"I've heard much about you. From Jon, my council, King Rickon, and the Red Priestess, all of them agree with each other and say that you are a good man who cares for the people and who serves them faithfully." she said offering him a smile which he didn't know how to interpret.

"I only do what I think is right, Your Grace." he said, confused and lost at where the conversation was going.

"That I heard, too, Ser. You tried to convince Lord Stannis that his path was not the right one, even though you believed he would be a good King. You stood by his side until the end, while trying to make him see reason."

"I wish I had succeeded…" he said sadly, images of Shireen tied to a pyre and pleading for her life going through his mind as it had every day since he learned the truth, and he shook his head to focus. "No offense, Your Grace."

"None taken, Ser. I understand. Jon told me about what had happened to Lord Stannis' daughter and the promise he made to you because of it."

"He did?" Davos frowned, surprised.

"He did and Melisandre confirmed it. I must say I admire you, Ser Davos. That you stayed and kept helping King Rickon. To see that you're willing to trust Jon to keep to his promise and stay faithful regardless of the circumstances and that you're still willing to fight for the living speaks volumes about your character. That is why I wanted to see you."

"I… don't understand, your Grace."

"I need people who care deeply about others by my side. I need to be able to trust them to talk to me when something displeases them. For them to stand up for the interests of the smallfolk as much as they may the Lords and Ladies of Westeros. I heard what you did during the Rebellion. I know we would have been opposed should Stannis Baratheon have lived, yet people like you are rare in this world and it would be a shame not to ask it of you."

"Ask me what, Your Grace?"

"I would name you Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Ser Davos Seaworth."

He heard the words, he heard them well, loud and clear, and yet he couldn't understand them. Him? Lord Paramount? He was a landed knight, a former smuggler who still struggled to read and write. He had never received a proper education and the Queen now wanted him to rule the Stormlands?

"I… With all due respect, Your Grace -" he said, shaking his head.

"You don't think you're the man I should choose for the role. Was that what you were about to say?" she said, smiling as if the whole thing amused her and he nodded. "This is exactly why I think you are, Ser Davos. And I am not the only one who does."

"Who…"

"Well, Jon does of course. And if my betrothed's word is not enough, Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Varys both think there is no better man to rule the Stormlands than you, as you are well respected by the Lords who reside there."

"I…"

"Oh, and as for the King in the North. King Rickon argued and said that I should stop taking competent people away from him, but that it would be a just reward for a good man and that he would kick your arse if you refused." she added with a chuckle.

These words made him smile despite his inner turmoil. He didn't feel worthy of this honor, but it meant a lot that Jon and Rickon did. It also showed how far the younger lad had grown from his abandonment issues, even if part of Davos felt sad at the idea of leaving the boy king.

"You haven't seen your family in years, from what I heard." Daenerys said, bringing him back from his thoughts. "It is a good opportunity for your sons to get a proper education and to have a truer future is it not?"

"I do not think my wife would agree to this, Your Grace. I… I know not how my family would welcome the news, after all that happened…"

"I see…" Daenerys said, and her sad smile made Davos look away. He did not deserve the pity he was receiving either. "I hope you will forgive me for this, Ser. I do not want you to think I am overstepping. Lord Varys reached out to your wife when we heard your story and made our decision."

Davos gasped and looked at the Queen with a mixture of surprise, worry, and fear. His heart beat so quickly in his chest he felt in a daze.

"Marya? You… Is she well? Are our sons…"

"They are well." the Queen said and it was enough for Davos to warm his heart and feel relieved.

"Are they in Cape Wrath? In Braavos? How… Why…"

"I believe this will answer all of your questions." she answered, handing a sealed letter to him. "My offer still stands, but I understand that you need time to consider it. Come to me with your answer when you're ready, Ser Davos. Take your time and make the best choice for you and your family, just as I've made the best choice for the Stormlands and the Realm."

With a shaky hand, Davos accepted the letter. His unease was back, along with the fear of its content. He was grateful that the Queen then decided to leave him alone to gather his thoughts and open the letter. He hadn't seen the seal of his House for so long that he had almost forgotten what it looked like, and he hesitated before breaking it. His fingers softly caressed the black ship and the onion sails.

Father,

We are relieved to hear that you are alive and well.

Mother wanted to curse at you for not coming home but Lord Varys has explained everything about the threat of the Army of the Dead. We know nothing we could say would prevent you from doing what you think is right. Devan wanted to come and help you but Mother said no, so please, try not to get yourself killed and come back to us when you are done.

We miss you.

Your sons, Devan, Stannis and Steffon.

If his sons' words weren't enough to make Davos cry, the two sentences written by his wife at the end of the letter made him crumble.

You are indeed better at smuggling than being a knight, a Hand, or a husband, but you are still mine in the light of the Seven and I wouldn't change it, for I do not regret the sons you gave me, nor the love I bear for you. I swore when we wed to wait for you until my last breath, so I will be waiting for the day you stop punishing yourself for things you had no control over by staying away from us.

Marya.

The emotions inside him seemed to come in waves. He was so happy to read that his wife was not harboring ill feelings for him and that his sons wanted to see him once more. Yet he was needed in the North for the duration of the preparation of the War of the Dead, and there was a chance that he would not make it to meet them again. Dread and fear almost choked him at the idea of not being able to see them, but he couldn't and wouldn't ask them to come North. The farthest away from here they were, the safer they would be. He couldn't leave either. Not while he was still needed.

His feet brought them to Rickon's door and he shook his head, thinking about what he was about to ask the King in the North. He could see the irony of it, of relying on an almost twelve-name day's old boy for advice, but he was one of the few that he trusted to talk to him and hit him with the cold hard truth.

"Ser Davos? Is something the matter?" Rickon asked and he smiled at the concern he felt coming from the King.

"I… Talked to the Queen and… Received news from my family."

"This is great!" Rickon rejoiced before frowning when Davos didn't react as he should have. "This is a good thing, good news, right?"

"They're alive and well, and they want me to come home."

"Oh." he breathed. "When do you want to depart?"

"I cannot…"

"Come on, Davos! You haven't seen them in years. Years!"

"I know but I have a duty -"

"Fuck your duties, Davos. Go see your loved ones." Rickon said firmly, his words bringing a smile to Davos' face.

"What if the dead arrive when I am away?" Davos insisted. "I cannot simply up and leave when I know we'll all be fighting soon!"

"Who said anything about leaving? You can still see your family and then come back to fight." Rickon replied matter-of-factly.

"This is impossible, lad."

"Not for dragons it is not."

"You… you would want me to ask the Queen to fly me to Cape Wrath so I could see my family?" Davos asked in disbelief, even more confused when Rickon shook his head.

"He's talking about me, Ser Davos." The voice behind him startled him and he was surprised to see a smiling Jon standing in the corner and he welcomed it when Ghost came to greet him, the white wolf licking his hand and for the first time, he felt the comfort that such a thing offered and envied the Starks just a little.

"How…"

"You're getting the hang of it quite fast, brother." Rickon greeted Jon while the latter smirked at his little brother.

"Well, I did have a good teacher." Jon said as Ghost wagged his tail and moved to stand beside him.

"That you have! I'm the best!" Rickon exclaimed to a shake of the wolf's head and a chuckle that seemed out of place from Jon Snow.

"What the hell is going on?" Davos finally said, lost with the change of topic.

Both brothers lost their cheery composure at the same time, and Davos would have thought them to be twins if not for their notable gap in age. Were his sons the same? He had almost forgotten what they looked like and that was another arrow to his heart.

"I think it is high time for you to hear the truth, Ser Davos. A little secret we've hidden for you." Jon said and Rickon nodded.

"A secret?"

"Aye. I pray you forgive us, forgive me, for it as it wasn't for lack of trust that we didn't share it with you. I needed time to adjust my feelings about what I had discovered. I know you've been worried about me lately and I needed time to figure it all out myself." Jon said softly.

"Is it about your mother?"

"Aye, It is." Jon said as Rickon led Davos to sit on his bed.

To say the old knight was in shock was an understatement. He had of course understood and forgiven the need for secrecy once Jon, no, Baelon told him who he truly was. The revelation that the Rebellion had taken place over a lie shook him to his very core, and Davos wasn't even one of those who'd suffered most at that time. He thought about Stannis, and about those at Storm's End who had died because their Liege had been threatened by a Mad King.

Davos had been living at Flea Bottom at the start of the rebellion and had hoped the rumors about Rhaegar weren't true, for he had admired the Prince and like so many others he had wished that he would replace his mad father soon enough. Truly, he hadn't suffered under Aerys' rule, nor did he under Robert's, but he remembered the unease the people felt around the Red Keep and the hope that Rhaegar would be better than his father.

Part of him had quickly blamed Rhaegar and Lyanna's lack of foresight, only to be reminded looking at their son that they had suffered the consequences of it. Whereas he, for his actions, had been rewarded by Stannis and had gained a status that he would not have had Rhaegar and Lyanna not fallen for each other. All in all, it was and had been one giant clusterfuck.

Davos quickly understood Rickon's change of heart, and the knight felt proud for how much intelligence and growth the lad had shown. His need to protect the one he still considered his brother by uniting his claim to Daenerys' before the truth came out was as powerful as his desire to see Jon happy for once. The Queen seemed supportive of her nephew, which was a good thing given the circumstances.

When he'd heard that Jon had bonded with one of her dragons, more pieces of the mystery unraveled before him. The fact that he had known about the victory in the South meant he had been there, and Davos had thought long and hard about how the lad could have traveled so far in such a short time. When Sansa Stark had been abducted and Jon had brought her back before the rest of the party, he had also wondered how but had never thought of a dragon to be the reason for it.

As he was ready to travel with Jon to see his family, he also understood why Rickon felt so confident that he could do what he needed and not be missed. On a dragon's back, he and Jon could travel to the Stormlands and back in two or three days and were the dead to attack before then, they were fucked regardless of them being here or not.

"I owe you this, Ser Davos." Jon said. "This and so much more. For you have been a true friend when I needed one, a father figure when I needed my arse kicked, and a faithful supporter to me and my family. The least I can do for you now is to let you see your loved ones. I hope you'll accept the title of Lord Paramount when we have beaten the Army of the Dead. For I see no one better man for the position or to help Dany create the world she wants than you."

He should have known the Gods would not grant him his wishes as easily as that. A loud roar shook the walls of his rooms and he rushed to the courtyard to be met with complete chaos. The green dragon was there, spooking the horses and the people, and Jon was in a heated argument with his younger brother. Davos had no time to hear the reason for it, as Jon rushed to the dragon's side and climbed on it without a hint of hesitation. Davos knew by looking at the desperation in Jon's eyes when their stares met that whatever was happening, it was bad enough to let him expose at least one of his secrets to the watching eyes.

He could hear the gasps around him and the questions raising as Jon flew away North.

What is the meaning of this?

Why are the dragons heading North?

Where are they going exactly?

Has the Wall fallen?

Are the Dead already here?

How could a bastard fly a dragon?

"Gather the council, Ser Davos." Rickon's cold voice had the effect of a whip bringing him back to the moment. "We'll need to address this before Jon's return."

"Fuck me…" was all he could muster before complying, not missing the sour expressions on the Starks siblings, nor the slight smile on the face of the crippled one.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Missandei.

The cold had been hard to take, the lands while beautiful and different, were so very cold and for her, Grey Worm and so many others, that had been hard to adapt to. Yet by the time they had gotten halfway to Winterfell, she felt that she had. Though a lot of her good cheer hadn't been because she no longer feared walking from her tent and facing the day ahead and had instead been because of the talks she had with her queen.

To see her so happy had been a boon to her spirit and one that she'd welcomed greatly. She'd liked Jon Snow from the moment she'd met him almost, certainly within days of meeting him. He was honest to a fault and true, something that she believed her queen needed more than anything else. That it had led to Tyrion Lannister's influence first being diminished and then completely taken away had been something she'd been most pleased about. The dwarf may have thought himself so very clever, but he'd led her queen wrong on more than one occasion and she didn't wish to consider where he may have led her was he still in a position to do so.

When the truth about who Jon Snow was had been revealed to her and when the suggestions had been made that named him the best possible match for her queen, she'd completely agreed. While her queen had been nervous and had worried some that he may not feel the same as her or that the truth would have changed things between them, Missandei had done her best to reassure her. So when Dany had come back and told them that they'd spoken and that he'd asked her to marry him, she'd shared in her joy. As she did when they arrived at Winterfell and the match had been agreed to by King Rickon Stark and the Lords of the North.

From then on she'd been busy with the arrangements for the wedding itself, so she'd not had too much of a chance to take note of how the men and women of the North truly felt about her queen and their own presence. The Starks seemed happy enough that their brother was to wed and with his bride. Sansa Stark even helped her with the making of the queen's dress and talked her through the procedure for a Northern Wedding. It was something that Missandei so looked forward to seeing after she'd been told about it. A walk to the Godswood, lanterns lighting, and simple words spoken and repeated, all at night, made it sound almost magical to her for some reason. Yet the moment that Viserion had acted up and her queen and Jon Snow had been forced to mount the dragons to go and chase after him, she knew things were about to change.

"We should send men after the Khalessi and Khal, we can ride and find them." Qhono said in the impromptu meeting they held.

"Unsullied go too." Grey Worm said and Missandei shook her head.

"The queen and Jon Snow will be safe enough with the dragons. They'll not need or seek your help in what they must do and neither of you can truly help them with Viserion anyway. We must continue our preparations for the war to come." she said as firmly as she could.

"The Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked worriedly.

"Is our queen not fierce? Is she not brave and strong? Is Jon Snow not formidable with a sword in hand?" she asked to nods ``Do you believe any can harm our queen while she rides on Drogon's back?"

"The Golden men." Qhono said as he spoke of the attack against the Lannister convoy and Missandei shook her head.

"Our queen needs no help, Qhono, and would be far happier if you and the Dothraki do as she bid you to." she said and finally the leader of the Dothraki nodded his agreement.

She waited until he'd left the room and turned to Grey Worm, he'd not disagreed with her while she'd spoken to Qhono but that didn't mean he didn't disagree.

"Our queen is safe, Torgho Nudho, Ser Jorah. Jon Snow will see to it. They are to be wed." she said, offering both men a warm smile and she saw them relax.

"She will be safe." Ser Jorah said a moment later.

"The men of the North, we must watch them most carefully. I believe they knew not of Jon Snow and Rhaegal. Have our men listen to words spoken and to report any that speak ill of our queen or her husband to be." she said with a nod to Ser Jorah who left her alone with Grey Worm.

"I will do as Missandei of Naath says." Grey Worm said once they were alone and she rose to her feet and kissed him softly on the lips, just a grazing of them for now but the thoughts of many things stuck in her head until they were abed that night.

She had been right to worry about how the men of the North may react. The Starks faced question after question about Jon Snow's ability to ride a dragon and though they wished to wait until her queen and Jon Snow returned, the longer it took, the less of an option that was becoming. When they called for her, she made her way to the King's Solar accompanied by her guards. At first, she'd not felt the need for them here in this place, but once the dragons had flown away, she had since changed her mind. There was an air of something that she couldn't quite name that hung around the keep and within some of the men, an air she liked not.

"His grace wished to speak to me." she said to the large blond woman and the man who stood with her that guarded the King's Chambers.

"I'll see if he's ready, my lady." the woman said as she knocked on the door, and then a moment later, Missandei was asked inside.

When she entered the room it was to see the King in the North, his two sisters, and the older man who both the king and Jon Snow seemed so close, Ser Davos Seaworth. The two wolves lay beside the two girls and the room was warm and welcoming, though their expressions were not. Not that they were unfriendly or that there were any glares or angered looks aimed in her direction, more the looks worn were those of concern.

"Lady Missandei, please take a seat. Have you eaten, do you wish for something to drink?" Sansa Stark asked and Missandei shook her head.

"I'm well, my lady." she said as she took her seat.

"Have you heard any word from your queen?" Arya Stark asked and once again Missandei shook her head.

"Jon and the dragon, Lady Missandei. How long has he been able to control it?" Ser Davos asked.

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, Ser Davos." (A dragon is not a slave, Ser Davos.) she said with a half-smile on her face.

"My lady?"

"A dragon is not a slave, Ser Davos. Neither Jon Snow nor my queen controls their dragons, they are bonded to them, and together their will is done." She said to confused looks "Should for any reason either Rhaegal or Drogon disagree with the request made of them, they'll argue and make their point just as you or I would. They are not mindless beasts nor trained dogs to do their owner's will without thought, they are far smarter than that." she said as proudly as Dany had once said the same thing to her.

Her words didn't have the effect she wished them to, the worried looks increasing and the frowns becoming even more pronounced.

"You're saying they can't control them?" Ser Davos asked.

"Not exactly. I'm saying it's no different than if Jon Snow ordered you to kill each of us in this room. You'd not follow through blindly and neither would the dragons. However, the bond of trust between a dragon and its rider, between a mother and her children, is one that cannot be underestimated. So both Drogon and Rhaegal will follow most if not all commands given to them by my queen and Jon Snow, but only if those commands are worthy ones." she said and saw the relaxing on some of the faces.

"What of the other one?" King Rickon asked.

"Viserion has no bonded and so it'll be to his mother that he looks first and foremost."

"And the queen can calm him?" Arya asked and Missandei nodded.

"I know the dragons have flown to the Wall, Missandei, though why and what for I know not. Jon in climbing onto Rhaegal's back has left us with no other choice but to tell a truth which I believe you're aware of?" King Rickon said.

"I am."

"There may be some harsh words spoken about my brother and your queen, I'd ask you to do what you can in regards to the queen's men."

"We will let certain things pass, your grace, but only certain things." she said and Rickon nodded.

"I'll give it another day and night, with any luck they'll both have returned by then, if not we'll do as we must."

"As you say, your grace."

During her meal that night she looked out and could see certain lords looking her way and at the Unsullied and Dothraki who'd been invited into the Great Hall. Only some of their men ate here each night, chosen men who at first had been chosen because of their temperament and then by her because of their comfort with the common tongue. Men who'd sit and seem disinterested but were anything but. Their job was the same as it had been for the last day or so, to listen and take note of any who spoke ill of their queen and Jon Snow. So far they'd identified only some of the soldiers and so-called small folk who'd done so and if anything it was still Ser Jorah who most spoke badly of.

Later as she readied for bed, she found that it had begun to stretch to some of the lords too, one of them in particular who it seemed was trying to rile up the others. She'd not liked Lord Glover's looks in her queen's direction when they'd arrived, nor the sneer he always seemed to have on his face whenever he passed one of the Unsullied or Dothraki. So it was no great surprise to her that he was now trying to make trouble for her queen and Jon Snow.

"I end him?" Grey Worm asked as he began to undress.

"Only if needed. Let us see how the Starks deal with him first."

"Better I end him now." Grey Worm said and she moved to the bed, reaching her hand out to help him into it.

"For now we wait, for now."

"For now." he said and then he was beside her and his tongue was no longer being used for words, the only sounds in the room were her moans as she relished the many things they did together.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Robett Glover.

Each day since he'd returned here he'd found himself growing more and more wroth with the Starks. Watching as they welcomed a foreign whore into the heart of the North was bad enough, seeing how they kissed her arse and the arses of the savages she'd brought with her, that was too much. Other than the Lords of the Vale though it seemed he was alone in his thinking. Robett had found himself to be dismayed while looking to his fellow northerners and seeing them go out of their way to help the savages settle and to seek scraps from the dragon's table.

Yet as much as he may have hated everything that Daenerys Targaryen stood for, as angered as he was in seeing cockless men and savage Horse Lords walk around Winterfell with nary a care in the world, it was the Starks that bore the brunt of his ire. Each of them in their own way was as guilty as the other as far as he was concerned. Ned Stark's oldest living trueborn son was not a man that any in the North or elsewhere would ever follow. A crippled and strange lad who unnerved anyone who came into contact with him was not who should be Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Not that the actual King in the North was any better.

Rickon Stark was an abomination, an affront to the Old Gods and yet they'd named him as their king. What little leeway that Robett had given him because he bore the blood right to such a title had gone away very quickly. From accepting that the Wildlings were now a part of the North true, to not placing him in a position that should have been his by right, to the lad himself and how he looked at and had treated him. No, Rickon Stark was no king of his, and each decision he made, was one that Robett had found fault with. None more than the one involving his bastard brother and the foreign whore.

"Is it the curse of all Starks, to throw their lives away for what lies between a foreign whore's legs." he said drunkenly as he sat with his men.

"They are fine legs my lord."

"Aye, I'd not turn down the chance to rut between them, Har."

"They are the legs of a whore, I'd rather see my cock cut off than ever lay with a woman such as her." he said dismissing the laughs and the lustful looks that some of his men threw the whore's way.

The foreign whore was as much of a disappointment to him as Ned Stark's girls were. True she had dragons and an army of a size that he could barely imagine, but he'd heard many a tale of the beauty of dragons and he saw it not. A good northern woman like his Sybelle was what a man needed. He'd not find one in Winterfell however as both Ned Stark's daughters were anything but good northern women. Sansa Stark was every inch her mother's daughter, right down to her courtesies and while Catelyn Tully was a fool who'd helped lead them to ruin, he had at first seen some promise in her daughter.

For a time she'd been a counter to her abomination of a brother and the bastard who stood by his side. She'd gone against them, plotted against them, and while he had no time for Littlefinger and the man's machinations, at least what he was trying to do would have seen the North free. Yet during his time away from Winterfell, while he was on a fool's mission to guard a place that needed none, things had taken a turn. Littlefinger had been unmanned and it had been Sansa Stark who'd done so. Something that Robett found hard to believe and was sure that it was some tale to cover up the bastard killing a lord without trial.

In this, he was not alone, as the Lords of the Vale were not best pleased about their regent's death and sought a justice that was not forthcoming from the King in the North. He'd heard talk of how the bastard had dared them to name a champion to face him in a trial by combat. Robett may have thought little of Jon Snow, but he'd not deny that had he been here then he'd not have stood up himself. Much had been said about Snow's ability with a blade and while he'd at first tried to dismiss it, he'd seen him spar and found the stories true. So it was to a foreign whore that the Lords of the Vale would seek justice from and he doubted they'd find any. As for Sansa Stark, whatever promise she'd shown was no more and she was now just as bad as the rest of her kin.

He'd not even considered the younger Stark girl, for she unnerved him as much the cripple and the abomination did. There was fell magic at work in Arya Stark and few people managed to quieten him with simply a look as she did. Robett was not against women being able to fight, it should not be their only goal in life though and none should ever be able to truly match a man with a sword in hand. Maege Mormont and her girls were he'd thought the one exception to that, Arya Stark though had them beat and he'd not wish to find himself opposite her with a weapon in his hand.

"I've never seen a girl move like her. The big lady, aye, but not like Underfoot." one of the Stark guards said as Arya and Brienne of Tarth faced off.

"Where does someone learn to fight in such a way?"

"Can we be taught it?"

"Gods she should have been beaten and yet she knows not when to give up."

He remembered the words and the fight as if it had happened yesterday and not weeks earlier. The coin he'd lost was still something he wasn't best pleased about. After the spar, he'd sought out more knowledge about Arya Stark and found out things that marked her out as much of an abomination as her brother was. Tales of faces, poisons, deaths, and of a god that was not his own all combined to make him look even less fondly on Ned Stark's youngest girl. Yet despite it all, despite how he felt about each and every one of the Starks or even the Foreign Whore, it was the bastard that he truly took issue with.

Jon Snow strolled around Winterfell as if he was the King in the North. He was a man who should have lost his head for deserting the Watch and breaking his oaths. Without him, the boy king would have held no true authority either and there had been times when he'd considered how best to be rid of him. Nights when he'd considered sending men to ambush the bastard and see to his end and then to see to the righting of the North itself. He'd even spoken to some of his better men and tried to get them to come around to his way of thinking. Offered them gold to see it done, without actually asking outright for them to do what he wished.

"There's not a man amongst us who could take him in a fight, milord. Not a man amongst us is even willing to try."

"He's but one man."

"He's no ordinary man, milord."

"Surely, three, four, or even five men would be too much for him?" he asked.

"I doubt it, but even were we for him, we'd not be for the white wolf, milord. The Ghost would see to us long before then."

"What about with bows?" he asked curiously.

"I'd not risk it, Milord, not for all the gold in Casterly Rock."

"Do you really wish him dead, milord?"

"What, no of course not." he lied "I just wished to know that the man who's to lead us into battle is one who's capable."

"Aye, that he is, milord. Of that, I've no doubt."

It was a bad state of affairs when even your own men were too craven to take on a bastard. Yet so too were the Lords of the Vale and so there was enough there to give him pause. The simple truth was that it was not going to be one on one that brought him the ends of Jon Snow and Rickon Stark. Not an assassin's blade that removed them from the North, the only way that could happen was for them to show their true colors and for the rest of the North to see them as he did. He'd all but given up hope that they would until the dragon had begun to roar and all eyes turned to the sky.

A few days earlier.

"What the fuck is wrong with the dragons?"

"Are we under attack?"

"How do we stop them if we are?"

As he ran through the courtyard it was the last question that stopped him in his tracks. He was no craven but should he fall before his time then the North would be left to the Wolves and the Dragons when it needed a Silver Fist to see it through these dark days. So he stopped and was not the only one to do so. When he saw the dragon queen running through the courtyard on her own, he wished he had a bow to fire an arrow at her, as he did even more so when he saw Jon Snow run by a few moments alone. It was rare that neither wasn't protected when they moved about the keep. The white wolf, the cockless men, or the savages all were missing for once, and were it not for the fear he already felt about the dragon's roars, then he'd have considered taking his chance while it came.

Instead he, like others, looked on as the golden dragon took to the sky and headed north followed by the black one with the dragon queen on its back. Were that all that they saw then he'd mayhap have worried that the tales that were spread about the dead marching on the Wall had just been proved true and that the war itself was upon them. Seeing Jon Snow climb up onto the green dragon's back, however, watching as it accepted him as if he was the dragon queen himself, all thoughts of war and the Wall left him, and instead, it was questions that came to mind.

How could Jon Snow ride on a dragon?

How long had this been so?

Why had they not been told?

What need did they have for the foreign whore when they had a dragon of their own to call upon?

Was this why a marriage had been arranged?

For now, it was the last of those that he concentrated on. The annoyance and disgust he'd felt when he'd been informed that Jon Snow was to wed the Foreign Whore and repeat the mistakes of his brother, soon rose up again. So much so that it took him some time to realize the opportunity that he'd been given here and was it not for Lord Royce, then he may not have done so at all. The Lord of the Vale asked him some of the very same questions he had himself and when he answered him was when it became clear.

"No, I knew not of this, nor did any of the Lords of the North." he replied angrily to Royce's question.

"I find that hard to believe, Lord Glover."

"You name me a liar?"

"Not you, but surely someone knew of this.

Later he had found out the truth, others knew of it and when he found out who, he could have cried out in joy. The Starks, the fucking Starks knew. They knew and kept it from them all. Not one of the Lords of the North had been told of this, not one of them knew of this and he'd finally found what he could use to drive the wolves and dragons from the North, or so he'd thought.

The Mountain Clans cared not. So what if Jon Snow could tame a dragon, he was on their side in the fight that comes and better two Dragonriders than one. Manderly cared not, the fat fool had found favor with the Starks and was most pleased with this turn of events. Besides, the North was soon to be joined to the House of Dragon in marriage and the queen and her men were here to help them in the fight ahead, Wyman had said.

"You think she'll just accept a wedding and nothing else. It's the North itself she wants." he said bitterly.

"Aye, and she could take it if she wished, or do you believe we could stand against her army or her dragons? A King, Robett, a King of the Seven Kingdoms with Stark Blood in his veins. I'll gladly kneel to such a king, it's what I've already done after all." Wyman said and Robett knew he'd find no friend in the Merman.

Each and every single one he went to bringing him the same reply. Some were annoyed at now knowing about Jon Snow, most had questions, but few it seemed felt as he did. Even when he began to grow more and more desperate and laid out things in a more forthright manner, he found no friends and some enemies. Howland Reed actually threatened him and though the Lord of the Neck was a small man in stature, he was not a man that Robett would seek to cross.

The Lords of the Vale were as useless as any southerner were. They spoke a good game, bristled under the eyes of the Starks and the Foreign Whore but other than words and seeking a legal remedy, not one of them sought to actually do more than bellyache. Lyanna Mormont actually slapped his face and was so stunned by it was he, that it took him more than a few moments to realize what she'd done. His words to her had probably been as close to full-on treason as he'd uttered and she'd not taken them well.

"Speak of my king in such a manner once again and it'll be more than my hand that strikes you. It shames me to name you a fellow Northerner." she spat.

"Why you little…"

"One more step, Glover, one more step, and I'll end you where you stand. Care to test me on this?" Jorah Mormont said, his sword an inch from Robett's neck and there was no need for him to answer what was not really a question.

"Be thankful that I don't seek my cousin to cut your treasonous throat, Lord Glover, be thankful that it's not my judgment that you'll face." Lyanna Mormont said as she and Jorah Mormont walked away.

They had shamed him truly and he'd felt true fear that day. That it had come at the hands of a girl not much older than his grandchildren and a slaver who just like the bastard who he'd soon be naming his kings should have lost his head, was not something he appreciated. From that point on, he'd found the same responses almost, though none other than Lyanna Mormont had dared to lay a hand on him when giving them. All had told him that he traveled a dangerous path and he'd replied that at least his one was righteous in the eyes of the true north and the gods. He'd dismissed their concerns and had traveled further down that path, seeking any ally that he could find, and finding only warnings that he ignored.

As he was dragged into the Great Hall of Winterfell, he felt he should have listened to those warnings, to those words. Looking to the high table to see three of Ned Stark's trueborn children look his way, to see Lords and Ladies of the North look his way, he knew he should have listened. When the two wolves moved towards him and he felt his piss run down his leg and heard the laughs ring out from the Wildlings, he knew he should have listened. Now as he did so, he knew it was far too late.

"Lord Robett Glover, you've been brought here today to face charges of treason, how do you plead?" Rickon Stark called out and where Robett got the strength from he didn't know.

"It's not treason to stand up for the North. To stand against the abomination that we named a king. I committed no treason, I've always been true and it's you and the rest of you damn Starks who need to be held accountable." he spat and before he could be called out, he knew what he must do "I demand a trial by combat." he said and he swore he saw Rickon Stark smile a wolfish smile.

"Do you have a champion, Lord Glover?"

"I'm mine own champion." he said proudly.

"Aye, your own fool and your own harpist too no doubt." Rickon Stark said to loud laughs from the Wildlings "Very well, we name Arya Stark as our champion. One hour, my lord. I'd write your letters to your kin now. As for you, the good men of Deepwood Motte. Your lord's treason is not a reflection on yourselves and your kin and is his crime alone to pay for. Be at peace and know the King of Winter sees you all as true men of the North. As far from your lord as any man can possibly be."

The words annoyed him greatly and as he was led from the room, he promised to let them be the fuel that won him his life. By the time he reached the room he'd been staying in and was given the parchment to write what may be his final words, he'd calmed somewhat. After he finished the first draft of the letters, he was joined by Wyman Manderly, Howland Reed, and Barbrey Dustin, three of the four who'd have sat in judgment of him had he not called for a different sort of trial. None of them looked at him with any fondness and it was Wyman who reached out to take his letters from him and read them.

"Write these again. I'll not be sending them nor will any man or woman of the North, Robett. Your treason is your own and you'll not sow the seeds for it with your kin." Wyman said.

"I committed no…"

"On the road to Moat Calin, here since you arrived back from there. In conversations with far too many Lords and Ladies to name. Aye, you committed treason, Glover, and each time you spoke it, it was heard. Are you really fool enough to believe that all you said went unnoticed? Did you not see the wolves watching?" Barbrey said, her voice full of disdain.

"I spoke nothing in front of a Stark…" he said only for Howland to interrupt him.

"The wolves, Robett, not those that control them. Ghost, Nymeria, and the pack that she brought with her. All eyes have looked your way and there are enough of us who are not wolves who've heard what you spoke to."

"The Starks, the whore, the bastard….you're in league with all of them." he spat.

"We live up to our oaths, had you then you'd find a different fate. Be sure your kin does not do so." Wyman said, pointing him to the desk.

The second set of letters he wrote was much different, the words far less angry and the call to avenge him should he fall, was removed. Instead, he offered his best words of comfort, his best advice on the future, and told his wife and children he loved them. Once he was done, Wyman again read the letters and this time offered him a nod in return. Then he was left to put on his armor and to make his way to the courtyard where he found a large crowd waiting to see his fate decided.

Looking at Arya Stark, he felt confident. He dwarfed her by some size and where he was armored, she was not. Yet in the first couple of exchanges, it was clear that he was already beat. She moved far too fast for him, his only saving grace was that she had no wish to end him quickly, though mayhap that wasn't truly something he should be pleased about. Each cut hurt and his blood dripped from each and every wound. The small thin sword found gaps in his armor that he knew not were there. Every single time she came in close she'd whisper so that only he could hear as well, her words making it clear who she was doing this for.

"You dared to plot against my brothers."

"Dared to seek their ends."

"Had Rickon not wished you to face your own in such a way or had Jon but heard you once, then you'd already be dead."

"Soon enough you will be and the only thing you'll be saying to the god of death is Today."

It was not to be at her hands that he'd face his end. The blood loss, the cuts, the pain he felt brought about his defeat, and yet it was a yield that he called out and not an agonized last word. Instead, he was brought straight from the courtyard into the Godswood and when he saw the block he breathed a sigh of relief. At least his death was to be clean and he'd meet it in front of his gods. He was soon to find out he was only partly right.

"Lord Robett Glover you've been found guilty of Treason to the North and it's time for you to face your just sentence. Our Way is the Old Way my Lord and Ladies and the man who passes the sentence is the man who swings the sword. All of us in the North know the truth of these words, but we've forgotten those truths too. In the South they take heads, they end things quickly for they have their own gods to appease. This is not the South." Rickon Stark said.

He watched as the young boy king moved towards him, the curved sword in his hand at first making him think he was using one of the savage's blades and he hoped that the North saw how wrong that was, only for it not to be an Arakh and not to be for what he believed it to be that Rickon held such a weapon. His clothing was cut from him, the curved blade making easy work and then he looked on as Sansa Stark handed Rickon an incredible-looking dagger. There was little time to admire it as Rickon moved forward and the pain of the thrust of the dagger almost made Robett not hear the words that were spoken.

"This is the North and the North Remembers!" Rickon called out loudly.

"The North Remembers!"

"The North Remembers!"

The cutting took some time, Robett praying for death or unconsciousness as his stomach was opened and his insides pulled out. He'd never known pain like it and how long it went on for, he knew not, only that not one man or woman moved from the Godswood while it did. When the cut across his throat came, he welcomed it, and as the world dimmed and his heart slowed, he finally realized the truth. Rickon Stark was not who he'd thought him to be and had it been he who'd led them South instead of his brother, then he would have gladly named him his king.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. I hope all had a great Christmas and new year and am sorry for the delay in updating, but drinking and celebrating do not lead to posting, or so I've found. Up Next We take a trip to the Wall and Beyond and see what's going on with Viserion, Jon and Dany spend some time in a room that once houses their great uncle and the Night King marches as the war for the dawn comes that much closer. For those who follow my other fics, The Dragonverse will update tomorrow and Aemon the Conqueror later in the week.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Rhatch: I've said that many times about Bran, had he died when Jaime pushed him out, just what do they lose? Like literally for him to end up as King it kind of defeats the entire path of getting there and his so-called reason for being. It gives no stability as unlike Bloodraven, he can't live forever, since he's not being sustained by the roots of a Weirwood tree, he can't have children and so why is he needed? Had he died, then Hodor, Jojen, and Bloodraven himself along with the Children would have lived. Jon would never have gone beyond the Wall on a dumb Wight hunt, Viserion wouldn't have fallen and the wall wouldn't have been breached. Jaime Lannister was the hero we needed, if only he'd have pushed harder lol.

Supremus: We have some big plans in store regarding Bran.

Celexys: Good that's what we're aiming for with him, he's not to be liked. I truly think the only way that show Bran makes any sense is as a villain. Book Bran may be different but show Bran just pretty much screams villain. My co-writer deserves credit for the joke about Bran, she wanted to lighten the mood and she hit it perfectly as it's unexpected. So glad you felt that about Jon/Baelon.

Kingmanena: Oh Bran will get his.

Guest: Bronn is in WF, we'll see him in a chapter or two. This chapter kind of explains it.

Dunk: Bae would be too much wouldn't it, we'll still have him be Jon for a little longer, but we'll be seeing some of Dany and his interactions now he knows, in the next chapter. That's an interesting point in regards to Sansa, we'll see if you're right. Aemon is dead yes, unfortunately. I know a lot of people get on me about Ned and my feelings towards him, but they miss that the story also decides it in a lot of ways too. In a future fic of mine, I'll be going with the more traditional Ned was a good guy and Rhaegar a bad un, but I think in certain settings, Ned almost has to be somewhat bad. Given what happened to Jon during the show, even more so.

Andromedanear: So very glad you liked it.

Mickiblue: So here's the thing, for me with Ned it's simple, he was a man who tried to live up to two oaths and couldn't and a man who was not suited to be a lord of WF and the North and so he did a bad job of it. He's a flawed character where so many people see him as very much not one. Did he love Jon? Yes, I'll not claim otherwise. But people give him credit for doing things that others have done as if he was the only one who ever did them. He didn't hand his nephew over to people who would have killed him, well whoop di do, that's not some saintly act, that's being a decent man.

He let Jon grow up almost as if he was a true stark, almost but not quite. Again there are numerous examples of Bastards being treated better and worse than Jon, Ned is not an outlier, despite how people may seem to think he is. Walder Frey's bastards all grow up with their trueborn brothers and sisters, does that make him a good man? If anything he's better than Ned in this regard as he tries time and time again to provide a future for said bastards, which Ned never did. In regards to being a lord, the NW basically falls to pieces under his purview, the North stagnates and even Robb when he is briefly KITN does more and has more future thought than Ned ever did. In terms of a father, he prepares none of his children for the future and so all suffer because of it. Now he couldn't foresee what would happen of course, but had they been better prepared, then a lot of it wouldn't have happened.

In regards to the Watch, we don't know why Benjen went, there are so many theories but even the mere fact he is allowed to go shows how ill-suited Ned was for his role. Because at that time there were only three trueborn male Starks alive and one of them, Robb, was a babe. He fails his house by not marrying Benjen off and producing more Starks that way. As for it being an honorable calling and seen so in the North, there are a couple of things you need to remember about that. 1. Ned Stark is the first noble northern son to join in a generation (Jeor Mormont is the only other and his reasons for being there are selfish somewhat) 2. If your goal is to protect someone, to keep them safe then sending them to a place that is in a constant state of warfare is perhaps not the ideal life for them. Jon as Lord of a keep would be far safer than as a ranger in the watch, especially given how many of them fall behind the Wall every year.

The throne being stolen is a figure of speech. But in the end, Robert claims it by blood as much as conquest. Had Aegon lived or Jon been known about a Grand Council called then Robert may not have been named as King, despite the conquest, and the Rebellion was never meant to be about that in the first place. Despite any of that, if you're the heir to a deposed dynasty or a supporter of such, then be it conquest of people's choice, the throne was stolen from you and you seeking it back would see it as such.

For Jon to give up his crown, he would have needed to seek it, since he's only just found out about his right to it here, he's not given up to Dany as she had taken it before he knew. Now, were they not to wed then we have a different argument, but since they are and Jon is to rule alongside her, it's a moot point. He has no need to push his claim since his claim is being joined to Dany's, which is what he wants in the first place.

In regards to Jon as king and having a regent post-war, there are many people who fit. Robert was a terrible king, so no it wouldn't be him and Ned wouldn't wish it, but would he not look to Jon Arryn? The very same thing that Robert did? Would or could they not have gone to Dragonstone not to conquer or capture but to bring Rhaella to serve should she survive? There were people like Lucerys Velaryon or Leyton Hightower, so let's not imagine there weren't numerous candidates.

Now let me make some things perfectly clear. 1. I'm not trying to change anyone's mind on Ned, I have my own opinions and so far that's what I've used to guide me in fics. At a later point, I'll be doing a fic with more what others think regarding him, but for now, I'm doing the versions I want to. 2. I'm an unapologetic Targ lover and Jon fan, so just like those with biases towards the Starks and Ned or Sansa, Robb, or whoever, I have my own. 3. Every single statement made in a fic by me, despite my bias is based on a set of circumstances that fit the narrative. So here Ned Stark was far less a good guy than he was in Dragon Cub or HSH or other fics of mine and less a bad guy than he will be in some to come. 5. I take no issue with Ned not pushing Jon's claim for the throne, that's not my problem with his actions. By the time he found out about Jon, Robert was king and his initial actions are probably the best he could have done. It's how those actions play out later that I take issue with. He could have legitimized Jon or simply given him a keep and lands of his own, had he, then I'd accept it easily. it's the fact he does not, that he allows/encourages him to go to the Wall and that at no point during is life did he make any plans for Jon's future that I take issue with.

What people seem to forget is that Ned Stark was the only guardian that Jon had, the only family that he had. Had Ned fallen, then we know what happens to Jon. Robb has his mother and his mother's family, he would legally be Lord of WF and Warden of the North if Ned fell, Jon had no rights and would have been out on his arse. What if Ned had fallen during the Greyjoy Rebellion? Or at any other time while Jon grew up? What then? Who was to look after him? For such a good man, he does so very little at times that it makes him out as very much not, IMO.

Svenion: Perhaps, but a lot of it is simply words, and words can be ignored. Or so they think. You don't just kill him, he is technically still their kin after all.

Lady Octarina: You're spot on in all you say, he and Tyrion need to be at a pity party together. In regards to them believing him or knowing his hand is at work, yes and no. But events can have a way of forcing actions that may not have otherwise happened. Sorry to be so vague. Rickon really had to bust Jon's balls lol. With Sansa this is what I was trying to hint at earlier on, to show her on a journey that has an end game of its own. Glad you liked the Wylla bit and we'll be getting a lot more Jonerys next chapter.

That's interesting about the Mel theory, can't say I've heard it, and yet it can make some sense. Given her age would be about right, it's an interesting one for sure I'll need to have a closer look into it.

Yenerys: Don't worry he will.

Creativo: Creo que lo que pasa con Ned es que se sale con la suya por hacer tan poco. Solo después de su muerte, la gente lo ve o está dispuesta a comentarlo. Al final del Día, llevó a su familia a la perdición. Se acerca la muerte de Bran, no te preocupes.

Sibeal: That's funnily enough what happened to me with fics and Ned. I was always a huge Stark fan and a Ned fan and then the more fics I read and the more you look at certain moments, the more you begin to question just how good he truly was. Now I don't think he was evil or even bad in intent, but his actions had consequences that he rarely gets called out for. There are certain moments for me where I found it harder and harder to accept the defenses he gets. One was reading a fic that showed Jon being sent to foster and you just immediately go, you know what, why didn't he do that. The second was someone pointing out that it's one thing for Ned not to push Jon's claim and another to decide to serve Robert (the man who laughed over the bodies of Jon's siblings and who he believes should he find out the truth about Jon, would kill him) but then another to betroth Sansa to Robert's son, while at the same time allowing Jon to swear to have no wife and children. In essence, he's not just protecting Robert's claim, but his future grandchildren too and that's usurping no matter how you look at it.

There are others but those are the big two.

Guest: The way you put it here, Balerion would have been so interesting, Jon the Black Dread of his time, I may steal that for a future fic my friend.

Lawkeeper: Thanks for saying that, I think your summing up of Bran is so apt, that's exactly what he is, throw in jealousy on top of that and you've got a bad combination. Rickon is a bit of a snark and so we needed to show that here. The timeline rules when you mess with time is always funny, every single time I think of it I go full-on Doc Brown, "it's a paradox, Marty" lol. I do think they could have changed things and I think the reason that Bloodraven was so against it was that in trying to do it, he fucked up and turned the Mad King mad.

Dark Prince should be back in the next fortnight, the holidays threw me for six. What you say about Rhaegar is one of my fave things actually, it's something I say a lot about him and Lyanna even. They're like Schrödinger's Cat and can be all things to all people. It can be the greatest love story ever or a creepy prophecy-obsessed kidnapper and rapist and anything in between. Rhaegar too can be the shining prince, a dark one or again anything in between. In time I'll hit them all, one future fic of mine has a truly bad Rhaegar and a truly good Robert Baratheon for example, and that one is a Jon/Mya Stone fic. I think there are so many characters within the world of ASOIAF that can be pushed one way or the other with just a little thought. Like you've read Dark Prince, does Tywin seem illogical given how he's presented, and yet Tywin we know can be the evilest mofo ever lol.

I don't know if I could do a Jon/Arya fic though, it may be the only pairing I couldn't bring myself to write.

One funny thing regarding Rhaegar and Lyanna and the ages is that so many of the people who are against Rhaegar/Lyanna because of the age difference, forget that Robert is like two years younger than Rhaegar and some ship Sansa with Sandor Clegane or Willas Tyrell, both whose age difference is bigger than Rhaegar/Lyanna.

Wryesenseofhumour: It really is. We have writers who don't have the required talent trying to redo the hero's journey because they think they know better than those who came before them, forgetting there is a reason why it endured so long. I'm all for twists, turns, and characters turning out to not be who you thought, when it's handled right it amazing, far too often it's just shoehorned in. As for the deconstruction of those who came before in order to prop up their poor imitations, that's just pathetic. I find it funny how many of them claim that the original hero/heroines were Mary Sues or Gary Stu's so run them down to tarnish their achievements and then write an even more perfect version who fits all the worst stereotypes of what they're supposedly railing about. Rey in Star Wars is exactly this model, someone who is perfect in every way and yet has earned no reason or right to be so.

I agree completely about LF, I think it's GRRM thinking himself clever. That's it precisely with Bran, he's seen a version of the future which he is aiming for and willing to do whatever to get there.

I do sort of agree with Jaime, we do have a plan for him and it's funny because I'm writing out an arc for him in another fic, and the words you say kind of mirror that in a way, in that his redemption is to come early. So glad you felt that with Sansa. I'd love to see Benjen play a bigger part in the books, here he will and we'll see him next chapter. Rickon is growing, in many different ways, that's all I can say lol. I've used Howland a couple of times and at some point, you have to do something different, plus I've always wanted to see her close to Jon. She has a big scene coming up in a chapter or two.

I saw that with Dinklage and thought him an arse. He both tried to sound smart and clever and in the end did no better than Sophie Turner did when she tried to suggest that her character was the heroine and was rooted for. Everything you say here I agree with 100 percent. We rooted for characters that deserved to be rooted for and it had nothing to do with their looks. No one wanted to see Tyrion or Bran succeed because neither deserved to succeed and both were absolutely useless in the end. Tyrion is a Kinslayer, who in the last few seasons made some of the worst decisions known to man. Bran is a waste of space who pretty much brought nothing to the table and helped out in no manner whatsoever, both actually hindered the fight and contributed to everything bad that happened and both have more blood on their hands than anyone else. Had Bran not chosen to tell Jon when he did, then Jon/Dany would have wed and ruled and KL would still have stood. Had Tyrion not revealed his words to Varys then he'd not have plotted and had he not made such a piss poor plan for the invasion of Westeros, Olenna, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes, Dorne and the Reach would not have lost so much.

Dinklage fell into the worst trap of all, justifying himself and his character over bad writing because he's a fucking stuck-up little dick who'll never get a role like that ever again.