MELISANDRE

She stood on the steps of the temple of the lord of light in Volantis. She hadn't expected to be here again, but when the prince that was promised had banished her from the seven kingdoms, she knew that she must return and tell the high priest of what she had seen.

It would be hard to persuade high priest Benerro to take the things she had seen seriously, for he was convinced that Daenerys Targaryen was Azor Ahai reborn, but she knew that he was wrong.

She had tried to resurrect Jon Snow after his murder, but she had failed only to have the lord of light himself, bring back the promised prince with four dragons of his own.

And in those flames, she had seen the truth.

She stared at the temple that rose high in front of her, it was a massive structure that was made from stone that was in a hundred hues of red, yellow, gold and orange and it reminded her of a sunset.

The temple was on the east side of the Rhoynar river and it was so large that it was three times the size of the sept in king´s landing, or so the scholars claimed, but Melisandre had stop caring about such unimportant things after she had seen the prince step out of the flames with his dragons.

All that mattered was that they would help Azor Ahai to defeat the great Other and bring back the dawn, and to do that she had to convince the high priest that the man she had seen step out of the flames with his four new born dragons was the real prince that was promised.

She walked up the steps to the great door of the temple, as she approached the guards opened the door for her, the fiery hand was quick to recognize her as a priestess of the lord of light as they should.

She walked into the great temple of their lord, and as always it was brightly lit with a thousand braziers and a thousand chandeliers that hung all over the high celling. The walls were filled with murals, depicting the fight between Azor Ahai and the great Other.

Never in one of the paintings did the face of their savior appear clearly, but the savior always held the flaming sword in his hands, ready to slay their enemy.

Melisandre walked closer to the great altar, where the high priest Benerro stood with his hands clasped before him, and presumably waiting for her. He was standing before the great stone brazier, where the priests and priestesses of R´hollor would look for their lord's signs.

The flame of truth was a tall, thin man with so pale skin that it seemed almost transparent, the slave tattoos covered his face and bald head and made a mask, leaving only his eyelids and mouth untouched.

"High priest Benerro." She greeted in high valyrian and gave a small bow to show her respect for him. He may be wrong in thinking that Daenerys was the promised prince, but he was still the high priest.

"Priestess Melisandre, you have returned." Benerro looked at her in curiosity, like she was something he hadn't expected to see before him at this time. "We had not thought to see you here after you left for the sunset kingdoms."

"I had not thought to be here, but the lord of light decided otherwise." She replied and mirrored his stance. "But I come with tidings."

"Oh." He looked almost amused at this, like he thought that there was nothing that she could say that would be of news to him.

"Yes," She walked closer to the great brazier and stared into the flame. What she saw in the flames made her surer than ever that she was doing the right thing. "I have seen the great other, and he is marching on the wall as we speak."

The high priest was silent for a moment. "Are you sure of this? You can understand that I have trouble believing you after the blunder with Stannis Baratheon."

Some time ago, this would have made her mad, that he would dare question her skill in reading the signs of R´hollor, she had never liked admitting failure to others, but that had been then, and the lord of light had thought her humility.

"Yes, I am sure. I was wrong about Stannis; I see that now." She had been very wrong, but she had been where she needed to be to witness the prince step out of the flames. "But I have seen the truth now, the lord showed me after Stannis was slain in the snow."

"Tell me." Melisandre continued. "When you look into the fire and ask for Azor Ahai, what do you see?" She glanced at the high priest who was giving her a curious look.

Silence filled the temple for a moment before the high priest spoke. "Why do you ask?" She could see that he was a little bit annoyed with her for this question, it seemed that he didn't like what he saw.

She smiled slightly to him. "Because up until a few months ago, whenever I asked for a sign of the promised prince, all I saw was snow."

Melisandre studied his face, and while Benerro worked hard not to show any emotion, she could see his jaw clench and his nostrils flare. So, he had seen the same thing.

"You saw it too." She stated, and then she waited for his answer. His mouth tightened and he gave a curt nod which made her smile.

She looked back into the flames of R´hollor. "I didn't understand it for a long time, why was the lord showing me snow when I wanted to see the prince that was promised." The flames were lovely as they danced in the great brazier. "It wasn't until Stannis died that I realized that the lord of light was indeed showing me Azor Ahai."

"Ah, so you finally see that the snow is for the silver of Daenerys Targaryen´s hair?" Benerro had a small smug smile on his face at that. He seemed as convinced as ever that Daenerys was Azor Ahai reborn, but he was wrong.

"No."

Benerro give her a dismayed look. "So, you have not seen the truth then, Melisandre." He gave a tired sigh and looked at the great door of the temple, then he shook his head.

But Melisandre just smiled at the man and how wrong he was. "I have seen the truth, the lord of light showed me." Benerro looked at her again with anger in his eyes.

"So, you have found yourself a new Stannis Baratheon. Why are you not with that unfortunate soul now?" Melisandre had to admit, that when he flung her failures with Stannis in her face, it stung. She was only human, and therefore prone to make mistakes as any other, but she was on a mission and she would not let her feelings get in her way.

"I am only human, and therefore I can err," She countered with a smile. "But have you looked into the fire since you heard about Daenerys´s dragons and asked for Azor Ahai?" Benerro would have heard about the dragons of Daenerys Targaryen before the prince stepped out of the flames, but she asked non the less.

Benerro gave her a cold look. "No, there is no need to. I know that Daenerys Targaryen is the promised savior and there is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise."

Melisandre felt amusement rise in her belly as she listened to the man. "I thought the same thing about Stannis." She looked back into the flames, and again she was shown the truth, then she turned back to Benerro, surer than ever that hers was a just cause.

"Look into the flames Benerro and ask for Azor Ahai."

The high priest shook his head. "Why would I do that, I already know who they are, and that is Daenerys Targaryen."

"Then you have nothing to lose, if Daenerys Targaryen is indeed the promised prince, then you will not see anything new and all will be the same as before." The tall man scoffed and gave her a long look of contempt.

They stared at one another for a moment before Benerro finally relented. "As you wish Melisandre, I shall look for Azor Ahai once again."

The flame of truth looked into the great stone brazier, and for a moment he seemed to have trouble seeing anything, but then his face slackened in surprise and his mouth hung open and Melisandre knew that he was seeing the truth for the first time.

SANSA

She woke up slowly, and all she could think about how warm and comfortable she was lying there. She opened her eyes and she could see her new husband soundly sleeping as she rested her head on his naked chest.

He had his arm wrapped around her and she had never felt so safe and warm as she laid in their marriage bed with her new husband. Sansa could also spot her little brother on Jon´s other side, as he had come running into their room a few hours after they had put him to bed.

Luckily Jon had the foresight to suggest them getting dressed before Rickon would come barging in on them. She really didn't want her little brother seeing them naked.

Thinking about their first night together as husband and wife brought a blush to her cheeks. Jon had been true to his words about her being in control. At first, she had been timid and not sure of herself and what she was doing, but it hadn't taken her a long time to gather the confidence she needed, especially after Jon had did that thing with his tongue.

Just thinking about it, made her feel things that she had never thought she could feel. She still felt a little sore between her legs, but it was a good sort of soreness, not at all like the pain she had felt after Ramsay.

She brought herself out of her thoughts of the bastard of Bolton, she didn't want to think about him. Not ever.

She looked up at her husband´s handsome face. His tidy and closely cut beard made him look older than his nineteen years, but his curly hair that lay loose around his head, undermined that illusion.

If someone had told her that she would be here a year ago, lying in bed with the man she had thought was named Jon Snow, she would have thought them mad. But now she couldn't be happier.

But then she remembered that Jon was leaving for the Barrowlands in a few days, and she felt dread settle in her stomach, she didn't want him to leave her. She wanted him to stay here with her and Rickon and Shireen, she wanted them to start a family of their very own.

But Jon had to go south, he had to unite the seven kingdoms under his rule so that they could defeat the Others and survive the long night. She just prayed that they would get through this and get to live their lives together.

She glanced to the small table that was on their bedside, and she could see their crowns, resting together, and she felt a smile blossom on her face. She hadn't been expecting Jon to make her a crown, especially one like that, but Jon had a way of surprising her.

If the lords of the north didn't love him before, they certainly did now. That crown had been a good move on his part, and it showed how much he loved the north and it´s traditions.

She glanced up at Jon´s face again as he made a face in his sleep, and she had to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out of her. He looked adorable when he made that face and again, she marveled on how young he looked in his sleep.

She didn't know how long she stayed there, lying safe in her husband's arms, before he started to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, and she could spot a small tired smile on his lips.

Sansa leaned up to him and placed her hand on his bearded cheek and kissed his full lips. He tasted like northern ale and something that was uniquely Jon. Their kiss was slow and loving and she could feel the hand that he had wrapped around her travel up her back, bringing them closer.

"Eww." Both Sansa and Jon were so startled that they almost jumped apart. Rickon was staring at them with disgust written all over his little face. "That´s gross."

Sansa snorted with laughter at his words and Jon leant back into the pillows with a smile on his face. "This is what married couples do, Rickon." Sansa defended her and her husband´s actions to her six-year-old brother.

The young boy looked at his sister with disbelief in his Tully blue eyes, but Sansa just shook her head with a smile, he would understand when he was older.

She glanced outside the window and she could see that the sun was rising high in the sky, it seemed to time for them to get up and get ready for the day. But before she got out of the warm bed and braved the day, she placed a quick kiss on Jon´s mouth before she stood up.

She didn't know where all this boldness was coming from, but it must have something to do with how gentle and loving Jon had been the night before, that made she feel it was alright to kiss him like she had done.

She had vaulted out of the bed before Jon could catch her and went behind the screen that Sansa had often seen in her mother´s room.

"Come back to bed Sansa, it is still early." Jon spoke as Sansa took cover behind the screen and she felt a smile break out on her face.

"It´s not early, we have to get ready." She could feel the joy leave her as she thought how Jon would be leaving soon. "We have to get everything ready for your departure." She spoke as she started to take of her nightgown and change into a grey dress and she could feel her words had brought sadness into the room.

"Why do you have to leave Jon?" She could hear Rickon´s little voice, ask her husband, and the sadness in his voice was overwhelming.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Jon answered. "Well, you know how you were being kept here by Ramsay Snow?"

Sansa couldn't hear her brother answer, so she assumed that he had nodded. She doubted that Rickon would soon forget his ordeal that he had suffered at the hands of the Bolton bastard.

"You see in the Riverlands, there was people that are being held by Ramsay´s friends, and I need to help them and bring them home." Jon explained in terms that a small child could understand.

"But why do you have to do it?" Rickon asked sadly.

"You know how the lords have declared that I am the king?" Sansa sneaked a look from behind the screen and she could see that Jon was now leaning against the headboard of their bed and Rickon was sitting up and looking at Jon with his large blue eyes.

When Rickon nodded his understanding, Jon continued. "As king, it is my duty to help them, it is the first duty of a king or a lord to help those who cannot help themselves."

Sansa smiled at Jon´s words, she knew in her heart that Jon would be a great king and she was so proud to call him her husband.

She could see that her little brother was deep in thought and seemed to be gathering his courage to say something.

"Jon," Rickon whispered and Sansa had to concentrate to hear what he was saying. "Have you ever had strange dreams?"

Sansa felt the breath hitch in her throat, was Rickon a warg too? If that was the case, losing Shaggydog must have been all the more devastating to him.

"What kind of dreams Rickon?" Jon asked and she could hear the suspicion in his voice. Rickon looked down at his small hands and bit his lip. "It´s alright Rickon, you can tell me."

Rickon glanced at his cousin. "I dreamt that father died before we got the letter for Robb, I saw father in the crypts, and I told Bran, but he didn't believe me." His large blue eyes were begging Jon to believe him.

Jon was just staring at the young boy with shock written all over his face. "Have you had more dreams like this?" Jon asked Rickon, had Jon heard about something like this before?

The young boy nodded eagerly at his cousin. "I dreamt about Robb in the crypts as well with Greywind, and I dreamt that mother was sailing on a small boat down a green river."

Sansa could feel the horror mount in her stomach as she heard Rickon describe his dreams. When a Stark died, it was tradition that they were buried in the crypt's underneath Winterfell. The Tully funeral rites were different however, the Tully´s put their dead on a boat and as that boat sailed down the Red fork, it was lit with an arrow.

But the Freys had dumped their mother´s dead body in the Green fork, in mockery of the Tully funeral rites. Had Rickon dreamt of how the Freys had thrown their mother´s body in the river?

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jon pull Rickon into his lap, and hug the small boy close to his chest, Jon seemed a little rattled as well.

"Rickon, if you ever have such dreams, I want you to tell me or Sansa." He looked Rickon in the eyes. "Promise me Rickon, you will tell us." The lord of Winterfell looked at his cousin, and he seemed relieved that Jon was taking him seriously. Then he nodded and buried his face in Jon´s chest.

"Do you believe me Jon?" The young boy mumbled into her husband's chest, but Sansa could still hear him.

Jon looked right into Sansa´s eyes and she could see the concern in his eyes as he replied. "Aye, Rickon I believe you."

MARGAERY

She had never felt such relief as when Storm´s End came to view. The road from the capitol had been long and hard and it had taken forever for the smell of brunt bodies and ash to stop assaulting her senses.

Marge tossed her thick brown locks out of her eyes as she watched the large castle grow larger on the horizon. While she considered her father to be an oaf most of the time, this time he actually had a good idea for once.

As she glanced at her brother, she could see that the faith militant had broken him, he was a shadow of what he had been, and as she looked him over, barely hanging on his horse and dressed in rags to hide his identity, she could feel the anger rise in her chest.

Cersei would pay for what she had done to them, with fire and blood, Margaery would make sure of that.

They had heard of the young dragon that had taken Storm´s End and was waiting for them inside the castle walls. Which was most likely why all the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea had disappeared from the capitol, they had all left King´s Landing shorty before the great sept had been blown up. Well, that was what her father had said at any rate.

The Tyrells would most likely meet them here in the strong hold of the Baratheons.

Her father had sent word by one of their fastest riders that they were coming to the Storm´s End to declare for the young dragon, and they had met with one of the commanders of the golden company, to escort them the rest of the way.

As she looked at the young man that served as one of Aegon Targaryen´s commanders, she couldn't escape the feeling that something wasn't right. It had been nagging at her since they had had word of the new claimant to the iron throne, but she pushed it aside.

There were more important things to worry about than feelings. Like revenge on Cersei.

That hateful bitch had tried to kill them, and they had only barely escaped with their life, because her brother Willas had managed to send help to them at the last moment.

Willas had managed to send a couple of his men, disguised as sparrows to sneak them out of their cells, before that hateful harlot Cersei had the sept blown up with wildfire.

She had never loved her eldest brother more than in that moment. He was always saving their hides, one way or the other.

Margaery glanced at the young commander again, he was handsome that was for sure, but he had been very quiet all the way to Storm´s End, and as she observed him making polite conversation with her eager father, the nagging feeling returned.

The commander had described Aegon as the paragon of chivalry and the very image of a good and gracious king.

But Margaery wasn't convinced, that was the way Joffrey had been described and look how that had turned out.

As they approached the great stronghold that had once belonged to the Durrandons and then later to the Baratheons, she couldn't help but to marvel at the architectural wonder that the castle was, it had been build thousands of years ago, and if the rumors were true it had been built by Brandon the builder himself. But Margaery doubted that story, it had most likely been Durran Godsgrief that had built the castle and the Starks had just said that it was Bran the builder to try to take credit.

The Starks hadn't always been as honorable as Ned Stark had been. No, once they had been hard and unyielding people like Theon the hungry wolf and Brandon the breaker, and now they were most likely all gone for good.

But non the less Margaery was enchanted by the castle, and it´s high wall and single tower, the walls were so expertly placed that wind would have no purchase here.

As they entered the courtyard of Storm´s End, she could feel the tension that lingered in the air and it was so thick that she could have chocked on it.

The newest claimant to the iron throne was standing with his lord hand, which had to be Jon Connington, if his sigil and red hair and beard were anything to go by.

The young Aegon was tall, just under six foot and had the traditional silver hair and purple eyes of old Valyria. But he seemed to lack the unearthly beauty that his father had always been deemed to have. It was only his eyes that had any real beauty about them, or they would have if he hadn't been frowning at her.

Aegon the sixth of his name, was wearing a handsome doublet with the red dragon of house Targaryen and he had a deep frown on his face, that seemed to have been there for some time.

As she dismounted, she tried her best at sending the young man a radiant smile, but it seemed that it didn't have any effect and she felt her smile freeze and die on her face.

She had to admit, she had expected a much warmer welcome than this. All the faces of the commanders of the golden company were either very serious or frightened by something, and again the nagging feeling was dancing up a storm in her belly. She also noticed that the lords of the Crownlands and the Narrow sea weren't anywhere to be found in the courtyard. She would have guessed that they would have been here by now, as they had been banner men to house Targaryen.

Margaery glanced at her father, and she saw that he didn't notice any of the tension in the courtyard as he addressed the claimant to the iron throne and his council.

"Your grace, thank you for receiving us at such a short notice, we are honored to be in your presence." Her father said grandly with a wide smile on his face.

The man that she suspected of being Jon Connington walked forward. "My lords, my lady, may I introduce Aegon of house Targaryen, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the faith."

Both Margaery and her father bowed for the young man, but she had to give her brother a firm jab in the side to get him back to the present.

After the pleasantries were over with, two servant girls came over to Margaery to whisk her away to get ready for this evening.

When they left the capitol, they hadn't been able to take anything with them but their clothes that they were wearing, and only her father had been wearing something that resembled clothes that fit a Tyrell of Highgarden.

All she had were the rags that the faith militant had made her wear, and her brother´s men had thought it was best for them to continue wearing them until they arrived at their destination. Willas´s men had been trying to get them to Highgarden and had tried to convince her father that it was want was for the best, but her father wouldn't hear of it, and steered them all to Storm´s End.

Willas´s men seemed to grow more and more concerned with every step they took to Storm´s End, but they couldn't really do anything as her father was still the lord of the Reach.

Margaery was shown into a room, that was spacious and warm, something that Marge had sorely missed.

The cells of the sept had been cold and damp, and she had longed for the small comforts that she was used to.

The servants brought in a large tub made of bronze, and filled it with warm water for her to soak in. But regrettably she didn't have time to soak in the water. The two servant girls came over and started to scrub her within an inch of her life. When they had scrubbed her raw, both high and low, they started to detangle her formerly lovely brown locks.

When they were finally done, her scalp was in incredible pain from all the tugging and pulling by the two girls.

They rushed her out of the tub and dragged her over to the dresser and started to forcefully put her in a cream-colored gown. It was pretty, but not something that she would have normally worn.

The servant girls pulled her hair into a tight bun high on her head, making her eyes water with the pain. "There my lady, you are ready now." One of the girls said, then they dragged her out of the room.

Margaery could feel her stomach growl in hunger as the girls lead her through the halls of Storm´s End. She hadn't eaten since this morning when they started on the last leg of their journey, and now it was early afternoon.

The two girls lead her to her father, who was standing outside the ornate doors. He smiled widely at her. "Are you ready my girl?"

She gave him an uneasy smile, that he must have mistaken of a happy one. "Fourth time is the charm, right?" She asked, not expecting an answer, but she got one non the less.

"That's the spirit." He stated as he led her though the doors of the sept.

All her other weddings had been beautiful, but this one was rushed, and she didn't even have her maiden cloak.

As they approached the septon and her future husband, she couldn't help but to feel fear. Renly hadn't been attracted to her, but he had always been kind and warm, Joffrey had been attracted to her, but he had died before he could hurt her and sweet little Tommen was still a child, much to her father´s relief, as the marriage had remained unconsummated so that she could marry again.

Her husband to be, was still frowning, and she was sure that Aegon was trying to kill her with his eyes.

When her father had first told her that she would be marrying the young man in the Stormlands, claiming to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, she had been conflicted, but now she wanted nothing more than to run away to Highgarden where she would be safe and protected with her brother Willas, who would never let anything hurt her.

But that was not an option anymore, she would have to go through with this if they wanted to bring down Cersei.

She could feel the terror in her very bones as her father lead her down the aisle to Aegon Targaryen. She hadn't felt this when she had married Renly or Tommen, not even when she married Joffrey had she felt this much fear, and he had been mad.

Young Aegon was glaring at her like she had killed someone dear to him, but it seemed that her father wasn't paying any attention to that, it was clear to Margaery that he was only thinking about that she would soon become a queen to an Targaryen king.

Marge could see Jon Connington give Aegon a look that made the young man give the older man an eyeroll and she could feel her heart sink.

She had a feeling, that of all the marriages that she had entered, this one would be the worst.