"They're fools," Loreon Storm was stood in her tent, and clearly would have been pacing, had there been the room for it. "Complete and utter fools, stubborn and too proud for their own good, the both of them," As it was, his presence filled the small space, blue eyes dark and angry as he loomed over her.

In what had been nearly six weeks since Ross had arrived at Renly's camp in Bitterbridge, Loreon had been playing the game constantly, and so well that it wasn't obvious he was even doing it at all. There was always an assured, warm smile on his face, and he treated all men with friendliness and respect regardless of whether they were a common soldier or a lord, playing the charming but humble everyman, never acting above his station or scorning those below it. This strategy had won the friendship of what seemed like most everyone in the camp, of importance or otherwise.

Loreon also had their respect as a truly formidable fighter - demonstrated not only when he won the tourney, but also whenever he sparred with other knights to train, which he did regularly - and had proved his insight and intelligence in the war councils, without presuming to challenge any of the lords directly. In all the time she had been in the camp, Ross had not found anyone who did not praise the young knight for being brave, honest and unambitious. Perhaps one of those is true.

It wasn't even so much an act, though, more like he was only displaying one side of himself, which could be why it worked so well. Loreon had displayed another side of himself entirely on the occasions he had spoken to Ross alone, letting himself slip into a sharper, clearly ambitious and surprisingly pragmatic persona. Whether this was a conscious decision or not, she didn't know, but in the same way that his joviality and apparent humbleness endeared him to most of the knights and lords, this side of him made her regard for him grow. If this was a conscious effort to earn her respect, it had worked well. The young man was certainly one to watch.

Ross herself had set aside the thin smiles and half-answers she gave to humour Renly, unwilling at this point to commit Robb's allegiances one way or another, and spoke plainly to the so-called king's bastard nephew. She knew already that Loreon's loyalties lay with Stannis - in truth, she was somewhat surprised he hadn't defected to Renly entirely by now, given that ambition of his - but she previously suspected he had still been holding onto the naive hope that he might somehow be able to make the Baratheon brothers allies again. He was young, after all.

Now, it was clear that he was under no such delusions. Now, Ross was seeing Loreon Storm live up to his Baratheon temper for the first time. Ours is the fury indeed.

She didn't blame him. The parlay that day had been a resounding failure. Renly and Stannis seemed to prefer the idea of war with each other than war with the Lannisters, no matter the best efforts of people around them. Ross had been present herself, and along with Loreon, had tried to make the brothers see that by fighting together they had a chance, whilst even the winner of a fight between them both would be weakened and likely suffer defeat overall. Their efforts had been in vain; Stannis knew all this already, but was too stubborn and proud to bow to his younger brother, whilst Renly seemed to think he could win against Stannis and the Lannisters both with ease and still be hailed a hero.

Loreon was still ranting.

"And the red woman, Melisandre, she's likely been filling his head with all kinds of horseshit, prophecies and magic. We're likely lucky she hasn't managed to get him to replace the stags on his banners with her god's fiery heart! Her influence was growing when I left, but it was always Selyse who listened to her, not Stannis. That's clearly changed - maybe he fucked her, gods only know - and now he's even harder to reach than before. Would it been any different had I been a trueborn son and you a lord rather than a lady? Would they have listened to us then?" He finished, breathing heavily.

"I doubt it," Ross said darkly. "Though if you were Robert's eldest trueborn son, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. And if I was a high lord - " She broke off, for the consequences of that were unimaginable. What would I have done, in Brandon's place? She liked to think she wouldn't have marched straight into Aerys' court and demanded his son to come out and die, but she really couldn't know. Perhaps slapped some sense into Catelyn. "There's been no battle yet. Why aren't you saying all this to Renly, instead of me?"

"You heard him today," Loreon said scornfully. "There's no chance of him giving up his crown. Stannis even offered him Storm's End, and he refused. I've been working on Renly for months, and for what? Fucking nothing,"

"I wouldn't say nothing," Ross raised an eyebrow. "The Stormlords love you near as much as their beloved king, and the Reachmen like and respect you. You've spent months befriending everyone important, and even more who aren't," The knight opened his mouth, but she continued. "Our best hope for tomorrow is that someone kills one of your uncles quickly, so few men are lost. If it's Stannis who dies, the Narrow Sea lords are unlikely to join Renly over the Lannisters, but what's it matter, they're no big loss, there's still a large enough force to threaten King's Landing. And if it's Renly..." She trailed off, looking at him pointedly.

"If Renly dies, then I rally the Stormlands and Reach to Stannis," Loreon finished for her without missing a beat. His anger was slowly leaving him, replaced with the fierce determination she had come to know well in the past weeks.

"You mentioned trying to prove yourself invaluable to the man," Ross said. "I imagine that bringing him as many as a hundred thousand men might do just that. You'd have more respect there than you'd ever have with Renly alive,"

"I'm not certain I could turn the whole host to him," He admitted. "And that's only if Stannis wins, which is unlikely. Renly's still got more vastly men,"

"Either way, the matter is settled one way or another," She shrugged. "Yes, your uncles are both fools. Yes, they'll waste men and resources fighting each other. But likely by this time next week, one of them will be dead, and you'll be in favour with the victor," And Robb's choice will be that much easier.

"That's true," Loreon said, then chuckled humourlessly. "I don't particularly want either of them to die. I suppose that's the problem,"

"That's war," Ross said flatly. "That's life. You did what you could, and it didn't work. They didn't listen, and now we all deal with the consequences," He stared at her for a moment, then his lips twitched in a way that reminded her of Jaime. The Lannister in him wasn't ever particularly visible - from the honest, brave, everyman knight he played, to his clearly Baratheon features - but small things did get through.

"I can see where your son gets his charming personality, my lady," She gave a sharp laugh at that.

"You don't know the half of it," She said. "I'm not sure where you get yours, in truth. You got Robert's face, and skill at making friends, and Giana's warmth - sometimes, at least - but looks aside, I don't see much of either of your parents in you,"

"You say that like it's a good thing," He didn't look too offended.

"With the way things are headed, it might well be," She gave him a shrewd look. "Now, the battle's meant to start at dawn. Only a matter of hours away. Will you be getting a good night's sleep, Ser Loreon?" He grinned, catching her meaning.

"If only," He said. "It's a night of politics for me. Or rather, drinking with the knights and soldiers, smarmying up to the lords, winning a few fights and showing no hints of fear or doubt whatsoever,"

"With an attitude like that," Ross smiled tightly. "You might just make it through this alive,"


Loreon Storm was not the only one to stay awake that night. Few of Ross' companions and guards slept well, and she herself spent the night staring into the fire, listening to Wendel Manderly's snoring. As the grey dawn rose, soldiers and knights starting to stir, she could sit there no longer.

"I'm going to see Renly again," She announced to anyone who was awake. "He won't listen, but I won't have it said that I didn't try. Anyone who wants to see me tear my hair out in sheer frustration is welcome to join,"

In the end, Dacey joined her, as did Ser Perwyn - who was surprisingly bearable, for a Frey - and one of the Winterfell guards, Derrick. They approached Renly's tent, still lit with candles in the relative darkness, to find it guarded by two of his rainbow guard - Ross had scoffed the first time she heard that name, at both the imagery and the pandering to the Faith - the purple one and the yellow. At least I don't have to bother learning their names with those daft cloaks.

She entered the tent to find Renly wasn't alone. Brienne of Tarth was armouring him, whilst he finished speaking to two of his lords. Rowan and Tarly.

"No men were hurled from the walls," Mathis Rowan was saying. "I would surely remember that,"

"Did I come at a bad time?" Ross spoke, raising an eyebrow. Renly laughed.

"Lady Rosennis, I was just telling the lords why Stannis will never yield," He said. "Our master-at-arms tried to sneak out and surrender with three others during the siege of Storm's End in the rebellion. Stannis caught them and strapped him to a catapult," He turned to Rowan. "He would've flung him too, had Maester Cressen not told him that we might be forced to eat our dead, and there was no gain in flinging away good meat," Renly pushed back his hair, and Brienne bound it with a velvet tie. "Thanks to the Onion Knight we were never reduced to dining on corpses, but it was a close thing. Too close for Ser Gawen, who died in his cell," And why should I care? She hadn't come to make smalltalk or share old war stories.

"Your Grace," Ross ground out through gritted teeth, earning herself several surprised looks, but she had decided her pride was worth less than this. Anything to make you listen, even a stolen title. "I need a word," Renly smiled, and nodded.

"See to your battles, my lords,"

"Your Grace," The lords bowed deeply and departed.

"Say your say, Lady Bolton," Renly said, as Brienne swept his cloak over his broad shoulders.

"Joffrey killed my brother," She said. "Like I've said before, the North does not care who sits that ugly iron chair so long as it is not him. If you're an intelligent man, you would join your forces to your brother's and help him defeat the Lannisters before fighting him. Bow at his feet, call him Your Grace and care not for your own pride or impatience. War is a dangerous game, and men die easily, even kings. If Stannis was to fall in battle, who would be his natural successor? A meek girl of ten, or his grown, charismatic brother? Who would have the support of not only the Reach and Stormlands, but the North and Riverlands too," Renly stared at her for a moment, rather shocked at the explicit offer of a possible alliance, but then gave an incredulous laugh.

"Are you sure you're a Stark, my lady?" He sounded impressed, but not in a way that was of any use to her. "And there was me thinking you were just like dear old Ned. You're suggesting I arrange the death of my own brother in battle?"

"How is that any different to what you are planning on doing today?" Ross asked sharply. "The only difference is, in the chaos of battle against the Lannisters, no one will know he died by your order. There would be no stain of kinslaying, no mutters of usurper, like there will if you kill him fighting in the field. And if you win that battle, you will have won the throne. What do you win today, my lord, aside from Stannis' corpse?"

"My lords would not agree with that plan," Renly shook his head, still seeming amused, which irritated her beyond belief. "Whether I told them the truth of the intended kinslaying, or lied and said that I was giving up my crown,"

"You are the king," Ross said mockingly. "Make them agree with it," She had been polite up to this point, had humoured him long enough.

"Perhaps if that had been my plan from the start, I would consider it," He shrugged. "But it's too late for that now," How can you be so careless? This is war.

"It's not too late until you deplete your men and resources fighting a foe you don't have to fight. Is a pissing contest between two brothers worth you losing the throne in the long run? Set down your crown now, and do as I say, and you will be sat on the Iron Throne before the year's end," Renly just laughed.

"Tell me, my lady, do direwolves bite their pack in the back when they expect it least?" Brienne brought the king's gauntlets and helm, crowned with ridiculously large golden antlers, and Ross met her blue eyes briefly, seeing judging disapproval in the girl's stare, no doubt for her suggested plan. "The time for talk and plotting is done. Now we see who is stronger," Renly pulled a gauntlet over his left hand, while Brienne knelt to buckle on his belt, heavy with the weight of longsword and dagger. Honour. After all this, you lecture me on honour? Ross's eyes narrowed and she stepped forward, fists clenched.

"You foolish, stubborn boy - " She began viciously, but broke off abruptly as a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. Ross thought she glimpsed movement, but when she turned her head, it was only Renly's shadow shifting against the silken walls. She heard the man begin a jest, but she couldn't take her eyes off his shadow.

The candles guttered, shivered, and a sense of extreme wrongness overcame her. Ross turned sharply to look at Renly. His sword was still in its scabbard, but the shadow on the wall -

"Cold," Renly said in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to gasp, and Ross stepped back swiftly, horrified. Then the blood came gushing out of his throat, splashing her face and dark blue dress despite the distance she had tried to put between them.

"Your Gr—no!" Brienne cried when she saw, sounding as scared as any little girl. Dacey and Derrick, so silent until this point that Ross had forgotten they were there, cursed loudly and Perwyn Frey gave an alarmed exclamation, all three drawing their swords.

The king stumbled into Brienne's arms, blood pouring down his armour. More candles guttered out. Renly tried to speak, but he was choking. His legs collapsed, and only Brienne's strength held him up, even as the girl screamed in anguish, but Ross' eyes were on the shadow Renly never cast. It was a malevolent presence, something dark and evil, something that she didn't understand, and that terrified her. She felt blood run down her face, down her neck, still hot, and furiously wiped at it with her sleeve.

Only a few seconds passed before Robar Royce and Emmon Cuy came bursting in, though it felt like half the night. When they saw Renly in Brienne's arms, and her drenched with the king's blood, Ser Robar gave a cry of horror.

"Wicked woman!" Ser Emmon screamed. "Away from him, you vile creature!"

"Gods be good, Brienne, why?" Ser Robar asked. Brienne looked up from her king's body, her blue cloak soaked in his blood.

"I... I..."

"It wasn't her," Ross stepped forward sharply, ignoring her shaking hands as her voice - to her relief as strong as it ever was - cut through the tent, through the rising blood madness. She hesitated for a split second, fear and panic rising up inside her; what on earth could she even say? A shadow killed him, yes, they'll believe that for sure. Even if they did, they'd likely go and proclaim her as the witch who did the murder. "An assassin, sers, he came under the tent from outside," It was easier to pretend that was the actual truth. She waved a hand at the silk walls. "You're the king's guards. For gods sakes catch the man, before he runs off back to whoever sent him," Stannis. She didn't say the name on her lips as a lie, but Ross realised, somehow, that it was true.

Ser Emmon looked half-blind in fury and grief - almost as ready to run her through as he was Brienne, spattered with Renly's blood as she was - but Ser Robar hesitated to listen to her, glancing at her companions for confirmation.

"The man was... was like a shadow, we barely saw him ourselves," Perwyn Frey agreed, and Ross was very grateful he caught on so fast. Her mind was struggling to accept what she had seen, and her body was catching up, she couldn't have sustained the lie alone for much longer.

"Lady Brienne tried to stop him, but he was too quick," Dacey hastily added, the genuine shock and shakiness in her voice making it sound very real indeed. "Look at her, she clearly grieves for Lord Renly as much as you do," More so, most likely, the girl loved him.

"On my honour as a Stark, on my father's grave, she did not do it. Nor did any of us," Ross added with a pointed look at Ser Emmon, who had started to turn his furious gaze to the Stark representatives. To her silent relief, however, Ser Robar nodded grimly, hollering over his shoulder at the men-at-arms who had entered to find a fleeing man covered in blood. Ser Emmon was still breathing heavily, and Robar clapped an arm around his shoulder, leading him away.

"We must help them, brother," He said. Emmon nodded shakily. "Brienne, guard the - guard the king," Guard the corpse. The two men left. Ross heard the shouts picking up outside the tent, the sounds of unfolding chaos, but she ignored them, for now. Her hands were still shaking, her face must be as ashy pale as everyone else's was, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the scene of this vile murder, but running would make them look guilty. And all of the others were looking to her now.

"There was no shadow," Ross looked at each of them in turn, knowing her stare wasn't as stony and her tone not as unrelenting as usual. "It was a man that killed Renly, a strong but quick man, dark haired and fair skinned, but we didn't get a good look at him. Any mention of a shadow - of - of sorcery, or witchcraft, or magic, and I will personally strangle the person that said it. Understood?" The blood smeared on her face, staining her dress, may have helped emphasise her threat. Her three nodded, but Ross looked down at Brienne, who was still cradling Renly's body. "You too, my lady," Brienne barely glanced up at her.

"Come on, set him down," Dacey moved to the girl's side with a warm, sympathetic expression before Ross could say anything too sharp.

"I never held him but as he died," Brienne said quietly. Her voice sounded as if she might break at any moment. "He was laughing one moment, and suddenly the blood was everywhere..." She looked up at Ross. "My lady, I do not understand. Did you not see, did you..?"

"Of course I saw," Ross said coldly. "I saw what we all did. The shadow of Stannis killed Renly with a sword that wasn't there. It makes no sense, not to me, not to you, and most importantly, not to anyone else. If we start spilling tales of dark magic, we will either look impossibly guilty, or be locked up for madness,"

"I will kill him," Brienne declared. "With my lord's own sword, I will kill him," She set the body down on the ground, getting to her feet. Renly's head rolled sickeningly to one side, blood still slowly pulsing from his open throat.

"No you won't," Ross said shortly, not in the mood for fits of knightly valour. "If Stannis dies, who will claim his throne? Killing him will simply prolong the fighting," Brienne's jaw clenched at that.

"I swore to protect Renly. I must avenge his death with the head of his murderer. Honour only dictates - "

"Honour?" Ross scornfully cut her off. "Try telling yourself that Stannis' death is honourable when it plunges the realm into a longer, more bloody war. Try telling the widows and orphans of the men that die fighting in it, the children starving in winter, because war ruined their harvest and soldiers plundered their stores. All for one selfish woman's vows to a dead man. How is any of that honourable?" She was being cruel, Ross thought, as Brienne's face crumpled, but didn't take any of it back. Time to grow up, girl.

There was a heavy silence.

"Forgive me, my lady," Perwyn said. "But we don't know it was Stannis. It was a shadow,"

"Stannis' shadow," Both Brienne and Ross insisted. She turned to look at the girl, relenting slightly.

"Most of this camp will go over to Stannis now," She said, anticipating Brienne's protest and holding up a hand. "Frey is right. None of these lords can prove Stannis sent an assassin - easier to blame the Lannisters - and for most here, he's a better choice than turning to the boy king. My point is, if you don't wish to serve Renly's killer, you could serve with us instead," I care not what you do, so long as you don't go tearing off to murder the best chance at a king we've got.

"You'd likely fit in better with the Northern troops than with this lot, besides," Dacey said with a smile. "My mother taught me and all my sisters to fight. She leads her troops into battle, and I was part of Lord Robb's battle guard,"

"You're forgetting Lady Rosennis," Perwyn Frey shot a weakly amused smile Ross' way. "You're rather handy with a blade yourself, my lady," She had spent many of the evenings on the journey south sparring with Dacey; the woman had finally convinced Ross, where Jaime had never been able to, to pick up a sword and learn to use it, rather than simply fight with her long dagger. She was no great swordsman, but it was better than nothing, she supposed.

"Only with the element of surprise," She muttered, turning back to Brienne. "What do you say, then? Where else are you going to go, crawl back home to Tarth?" The girl was a formidable fighter it was true, and very loyal, but the biggest reason Ross wanted her was so she could keep a watchful eye on her.

"I - " Brienne blinked, seeming taken aback by the sudden near-kindness, after the previous sharp telling off. Then she seemed to deflate. "I - yes, my lady. I'll join you. Thank you," The thanks was hollow. She clearly disliked having no option but to join the woman who had tried to turn Renly to such a dishonourable path as killing his own brother as they fought on the same side. Never mind that he was trying to achieve the same goal in battle.

"Lady Stark? They said you were here," The door to the tent was pushed open, revealing Loreon Storm. His grim faced turned even grimmer when he saw the bloody body of his uncle on the ground, and he stopped dead. "Gods," He paused for a moment, grief flashing across his expression for a moment, before turning back to her. "Ser Robar said it was an assassin that did it, my lady," He gave her a hard look.

"He said it right," Ross said, taking the waterskin that Dacey wordlessly passed her at his entrance and using it to scrub the blood off her face. "I can't say who sent the man, though. He wore no sigil," Loreon was still looking at her like she'd done the deed herself - she didn't blame him after some of their previous conversations - and she gritted her teeth, addressing her companions. "You four, stay here. Storm, walk with me," Best get this sorted now. A moment's silence, then he nodded shortly.

They left the tent, walking swiftly side by side into the chill of dawn, into the chaos gradually unfolding in the morning gloom. Ser Emmon and Ser Robar had clearly not kept the news of Renly's assassination quiet. Men were rushing past them, shouting, others were muttering in small groups and a few were praying. Despite Loreon's size clearing them a decent path, Ross was almost swept by in the tide of moving people.

"My lady - " Loreon began, but she spoke over him, long fingers gripping his offered arm in a vice grip so they weren't separated, ignoring the stains her bloody sleeve left on his shirt.

"Before you ask anything of me," She said in a low voice. "All this," She waved a hand at their surroundings. "Must be dealt with, fast. You're the only one with a hope of salvaging the majority of Renly's army," Which was already coming apart as word of their king's death spread to every corner of the camp. "I swear I did not order his murder, and I'll give you more answers later, ser, but now is the time to act,"

There was a moment's silence, where the young man surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes, then looked back down at her. She knew what he was thinking. She knew he suspected her. But she also knew he was half a Lannister, perhaps more than half, and though he might rage at her later, he would not pass up this chance now, no matter how distasteful it might be.

"You're right," Well he listened better than both his uncles, at least. Why couldn't Robert have just married Giana? "I trust you can make it back to your men?"

"Of course. I'll hope to see you later, with at least half an army at your back," His lips twitched at that, but the look in his eyes was darkly determined. Ross slipped away into the crowd, heading back towards Renly's tent, but taking more time than she could have done. She managed to find a patch of high ground, emptier than the rest, and stare east as the sun rose, the immense walls of Storm's End becoming visible in the growing light.

Wisps of pale mist raced across the field; Ross knew them as morning ghosts, from Old Nan's stories, spirits returning to their graves. Then she caught a glimpse of a shadow carrying a sword, and started backwards in fright, only to realise that it was simply a shadow of a nearby soldier. Her hands were still shaking slightly, and if she closed her eyes, she could hear her own racing heartbeat.

She had spent her childhood unbothered by the eerieness of the godswood, had played games amongst the statues of dead kings in the Winterfell crypts, had watched men be burned alive in wildfire, but the shadow Ross had seen today had truly disturbed her, and she still felt the taint of that wrongness in the air.

Trying to pull herself together, she returned to the tent. More guards had joined her three and Brienne, and were in the process of lifting the corpse onto the bed. The girl was watching with glassy eyes, but did not cry.

"Ser Loreon is attempting to restore order," Ross addressed them. "The Stormlords will likely listen to him. I'm not sure about the Reach, now their dear Margaery won't be queen. All we can do for now is stay out of the way,"

They returned to the camp the northern escort had made, Brienne wandering off to collect her own horse and armour; Dacey had gone with her, at a sharp look from Ross, not willing to risk any half-witted attempts at vengeance. Having changed into clean clothes, it didn't take long to explain to the rest of their men what had happened - the assassin version of events, not the one with the shadow (the less people knew of that, the better) - and what would happen next. There were a few grumbles about staying put and doing nothing, but for the most part the news was met with shrugs and grim faces, as the men began to discuss the events in low voices amongst themselves.

Loreon sent a messenger later in the day, inviting her to a council in Renly's former tent in an hours time. From where the Northmen were watching from their slightly raised camp, it looked like the camp had indeed calmed down, although no one could have missed the multitude of Reachmen packing up and leaving. Not one stormlord was amongst them, however, and many Reach houses were not gone yet, several prominent ones included. That was something, she told herself. Gods only knew what the council would lead to.

Having gone into her tent, just for a moment to collect herself, Ross suddenly felt very alone in this place, despite being surrounded by loyal men, and companions she trusted, even liked. She missed Ren's flat looks, Edrick's wide grins, Aileen's quiet understanding and Morganna's mischievous smirks. She missed Ned's solid presence, though he was gone forever. She wanted her family.

It didn't help knowing that Ren and Robb were at war, that Edrick and Aileen were far off in the North, that Sansa, Arya and Morganna were all prisoners in King's Landing, at the mercy of the Lannisters... Just as Jaime was at the mercy of the Starks. Images of the small tower cell, where he had held her as she cried, came to mind. Perhaps that was what she was missing. There was no one here she could be so soft in front of.

Nothing to be done about that. Ross gathered herself together, face sliding into her usual stony expression, and left the tent.


A long wait for this update, I know. This part of the story is much harder to write now the plot is beginning to diverge more significantly from canon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter - as always, constructive criticism is welcome - and thanks for reading.