Just quickly, I don't normally recommend songs to listen to alongside my stories, but I was listening to Soho by Bert Jansch and John Renbourn while writing this and I feel like it fits the last scene weirdly well, if anyone cares to check it out.


It was a hard journey from the Eyrie to Riverrun, made even harder by how Ross insisted on pushing to get there as fast as possible. They rose at dawn and rode all day with very few breaks, and only made camp when it became too dark to ride any further.

When they arrived at Harrenhal - and gods, she still hated that place - Ross immediately began to search the courtyard from the back of her horse. She saw Ren, her husband, Loreon, Giana, Jaime, Tyrion, Robb, even - seven hells, was that Arya? But her daughter was conspicuously missing.

It was as though all her worst fears were confirmed. Her greetings to the rest of her family - even Arya, who had been missing, presumed dead since Ned had died, along with Robb's new Frey wife Marianne - were rather distracted as a result.

"Where is your sister?" She turned to Ren rather accusingly. He grimaced.

"Sulking," He said. "She wanted to go on a ride outside the castle yesterday afternoon, but Lord Bolton wouldn't permit it. For once I agree with the man, it's not safe. She threw a tantrum and stormed off to her chambers. I believe Brienne went with her,"

"Has she not come out since then?" Ross asked, frowning. "What about meals?"

"Brienne had them brought up for her," He shrugged. "She's definitely in there, if that's what you're worried about. I spoke to her through the door this morning, and an hour ago when we knew you were coming,"

"Alright," She said slowly, something about the whole situation making her uneasy. "I'll talk to her later,"

The whole castle was making her uneasy. Everything was so huge that she herself felt small, yet at the same time she felt trapped, despite there being a ridiculous amount of open space within the walls. Perhaps the walls were the issue, being so thick, looming overhead but still dwarfed by the gargantuan towers, blackened and melted from dragonfire in ways that stone should never be.

"My lady," The quiet voice of Roose Bolton was heard behind her and she turned to face her husband. "I trust your journey was untroubled?" For a moment she though that his pale eyes could somehow see through the layers of fabric she wore to the slight curve of her stomach, then quickly realised that was impossible.

"Yes, thank you my lord," She said, seeing Jaime glancing their way over his shoulder. It struck her that this was the first time he had seen her beside her husband.

"And what of your exploits in the Vale?" He asked. "Were they successful?"

"Yes, my lady, I'd like to hear that too," Loreon had approached, Jaime, Tyrion and Giana in tow. A gaggle of Lannisters. She noticed how Robb tensed slightly at the man's presence - Arya was shooting him a death glare - and realised what a strange collection of people this was.

"That depends what you mean by successful. Petyr Baelish tried to stab me, which wasn't the best of outcomes. But then I got there first," She said, amused by the raised eyebrows and incredulous looks surrounding her. "He's dead and the Vale is in the hands of Elbert Arryn, which I suppose was a good turn of events,"

"Gods, are you hurt?" Giana Banefort asked in concern.

"Some Lannister you are," Jaime muttered, in keeping with his character to everyone here. Robb glared at him.

"He got my arm," Ross shrugged. "Although he was aiming for my stomach,"

"Was it necessary for you to kill him, my lady?" Tyrion asked delicately. "Not that I give two shits about the man, but has this strained connections in the Vale at all?"

"It was revealed that Littlefinger killed Jon Arryn - or told Lysa to put poison in his wine. No one in the Vale was at all sorry to see him gone," There was a collective round of gasps, mainly from Giana, and she continued dryly. "Baelish pushed Lysa out the Moon Door too, so I wouldn't feel too bad for him,"

"Gods," Loreon shook his head. "That was simply meant to be a diplomacy mission, sorry it turned out so... murderous. You'll have to tell the full story later - morale has been low recently, so we used your arrival as an excuse for a feast. I'm sure for now you want to rest,"

"Amabel will show you to your chambers," Roose Bolton said neutrally, gesturing to a nearby maid.

"Thank you, my lord," She said neutrally, a tone she often used around him. She didn't like him, but didn't want him to think she had any strong feelings at all. "One moment," She turned to Arya and gave her a quick hug, to the girl's surprise, although it didn't take long before she hugged her back, clinging on rather tightly. "I'm glad you're safe,"

"Me too," The little girl mumbled into her shoulder before they stepped apart. "I'm glad you're here," Ross smiled a little sadly.

"You'll have to tell me later how you escaped the city,"

There was a certain look in Arya's eyes that promised the road to Harrenhal had not been easy.

"She hasn't even told us all of it," Robb said, grinning though looking rather concerned. "You were wild before, Arya, let alone after living as a peasant boy for over a year. Good thing it was you that ended up escaping, not Sansa,"

"Where is Sansa?" The girl asked.

"At the Eyrie," Ross replied. "The journey through the mountains was always going to be tough, and I thought it best for her to stay there and be safe, then sail north after we take Winterfell back,"

"That was a good decision," Robb agreed. "Though it would've been good to see her again,"

"She's quite different," She warned. "You'll probably like her more," She addressed Arya. "Less giggly, more... stoic. Joffrey was truly awful to her in King's Landing, Cersei too,"

"We've all changed," It was Ren who spoke now. "For better or worse,"


"Morganna," Ross knocked sharply on the door to her daughter's chambers. "It's Mother. Can I come in?"

"No," Came the immediate reply. She glanced at Brienne in exasperation, and the younger woman shrugged helplessly.

"She didn't want me going in either," She said. "Only the maid to bring her meals,"

"We'll see about that," Ross narrowed her eyes, raising her voice. "Morganna, I haven't seen you since King's Landing and from what I've heard you haven't left that room for over a day. Unlock the door or I'll bring a carpenter up to take it off its hinges,"

"You wouldn't," Came the sulky reply, although she seemed to immediately reconsider that. "You would. Fine, you can come in,"

The sounds of the door unlocking could be heard. The girl didn't deign to open the door herself, so Ross turned the handle and stepped inside.

"Are you going to tell me why you've locked yourself in here?" She asked. "Because if it really is simply because you were denied a horse ride outside the castle, you're more of a child than I thought,"

"It's not that," Morganna glared at her. "Of course it's not. I just wanted a ride to clear my head, away from... everyone,"

"You're clearly angry with me," Ross pressed. "Tell me why, and perhaps it can be sorted. If not, I'll leave you be,"

Her daughter never was one to keep her feelings to herself, and spoke after only a moment's hesitation, though surprisingly she lowered her voice to a step up from a furious whisper.

"Why did you never tell me that I'm a bastard?"

Ross blinked. Shit. She hadn't been expecting that. From her husband, perhaps, Giana Lannister or even Robb, but not Morganna herself.

"Who told you that?"

"Far too many people hinted before I believed it. Queen Cersei told me outright, but I thought she was mad. Not that she isn't. I only realised when the Kingslayer's other sister kept giving me funny looks and started being oddly nice to me,"

"Giana's oddly nice to everyone,"

"Yeah, well," She scuffed her feet on the floor. "It makes sense, is all I'm saying. Why else would the Kingslayer have taken on Ren as a squire? Why would you still be such good friends after all these years? Why do I look almost exactly like the queen and Myrcella, for gods sake? I feel so stupid, for not realising sooner,"

"I haven't confirmed it's true yet," Ross said warningly. "I'd know if I'd lain with Jaime Lannister,"

"Then why haven't you denied it?" Morganna countered, and she had a point. Enough pretending. "And why don't you call him Kingslayer, like every other Stark?"

Ross sighed.

"I've told you before what I thought of Aerys Targaryen," She said. "I'm not going to condemn the man that killed him in front of me,"

"You didn't lay with him out of gratitude, did you?" The girl wrinkled her nose and Ross couldn't help laughing.

"Who do you take me for?" She scoffed, and even Morganna's lips twitched. "That's pathetic. Besides, I had Ren in my arms at the time, one year old. That would be planning a little too far ahead,"

"Then why did you do it?"

"Have you seen him?" The words were out of her mouth before she remembered she was talking to her daughter.

"Mother!" Ross inwardly winced, amused and mortified at the same time, but Morganna was laughing now. "Seriously,"

She thought for a moment.

"We helped each other go through hell. We make each other laugh. There's no games or pretending, no ulterior motives - we've known each other over seventeen years, at our best and worst. He's an arrogant arse, but still held me when Ned died. I don't know what he sees in me, but he could find someone else easily enough, so there's that,"

"You say that like it's still happening," Her daughter frowned. Ah. Was that not always implied? Her expression must've given her away, and Morganna wrinkled her nose again. "Oh. Then why wouldn't you dance with him at the feast?"

"It's bad enough that you look like a Lannister with Stark hair and eyes," She said flatly. "Swooning into his arms on a crowded dance floor is hardly going to help matters. Lord Bolton would have both our heads if he found out,"

"He can't do that," Morganna said, though had grown up at the Dreadfort and looked unsure. "Surely not? You're a Stark,"

"That only means he couldn't kill me outright," She said grimly. "He'd work something out, in the end. Which is why this stays as quiet as possible,"

"Well I'm hardly going to go around proudly proclaiming that the Kingslayer is my father,"

"Don't go too near any of the Lannisters," Ross warned. "You'll have to be very careful,"

"Will that be enough?" The girl suddenly looked rather nervous, an unfamiliar expression on her daughter's face. "Like you said, we look so similar,"

"I hope so," She said, knowing it wouldn't be, very aware of the baby currently growing inside her. "Don't worry. I'll find a way to keep us all safe,"


She left her daughter soon after that, after telling Brienne not to move from outside her door and accompany her wherever she went. The young woman would no doubt do exactly that, loyal to a fault.

In the meantime, Ross found her own chambers and prepared to go down to the upcoming feast. She washed off the dirt of traveling in the basin and changed into a green gown in a much lighter shade than she was accustomed to wearing, with black and silver detailing in the shapes of leafy vines. It also had a larger volume of fabric in the skirts than her typical style, and a higher waistline, to hide the small but growing curve of her otherwise mostly flat stomach.

The dress did the job, she observed in the mirror, running a hand over the barely visible bump and idly wondering if it would be a boy or a girl. She already had two of each, after all. Part of her would rather have another boy, who would be able to defend himself with sword and shield, who she could perhaps name Eddard - or would that be too similar to Edrick? Perhaps a girl then. Eldarra? Not Lyanna. She could never name a child after her wild sister.

Ross was too on edge about being at Harrenhal to enjoy the feast at all. She ate little and didn't dance, only speaking to Giana Lannister and Dacey, who she was seated beside.

"So how did you like being in King's Landing again?" Giana asked. "Well, apart... everything that happened?" A battle, a regicide and plotting a murder. "I heard the wedding was nice," She tried in vain. "Until the king - "

"Dropped dead?" Ross suggested, amused despite herself. "Yes, it was,"

Giana grinned ruefully.

"I always feel like a fool talking to you," She said.

"It's not your fault I'm terrible at conversation," Ross shrugged.

"You talk in a similar way to your son," The woman said. "I quite enjoyed Renan's company on the way to Riverrun,"

"You enjoyed the company of a man who kidnapped you and your son from your bed?" She asked incredulously. "Gods, you must be the Mother incarnate with that much forgiveness? I'd have been kicking and cursing the entire way from Winterfell if a Lannister did that to me,"

"Are you sure?"

That was so uncharacteristically sly it made Ross choke on her drink that she'd just taken a sip from, making Dacey turn around in amused surprise. Giana's laughter rang out as she coughed.

"You - how did - ?" She managed to gasp out, and the other woman just shook her head, placing a finger to her lips for a fraction of a second, and Ross nodded, glad at her subtlety.

They were just serving the first course when she realised that Morganna still hadn't made an appearance. Ross beckoned to a nearby serving boy dressed in Bolton livery.

"Go to my daughter's chambers," She said. "Speak to Lady Brienne and ask her why Morganna hasn't come down to the feast," The boy nodded and hurried away.

He returned some time later to report that Lady Brienne said Lady Morganna did not want to leave her room again. Others take that stubborn child. Ross was not going to stand outside the door of her daughter who was really too old for antics like this and beg her to come downstairs. She left the matter for now, resolving to speak to her again in the morning.

Both Giana and Dacey got up to dance, asking her to join but she refused. Now sat alone, she found herself wishing that Jaime could come and sit beside her again, that they could slip away upstairs and speak properly for the first time in months. It didn't get easier, seeing him in public and pretending to be indifferent. If anything, it was worse every time. Here we are again, she thought, letting herself wallow for once.

It was late into the evening when Ross was approached by a very nervous-looking boy who looked and smelt like he worked in the stables. What was he doing in the feasting hall, let alone coming up to the high table? Not that she begrudged him, it was just odd.

"'Scuse me, L-Lady Bolton," He stuttered. "Sorry but I thought you should know. It's your daughter - I mean, Lady Morganna. She - she's gone,"

"Gone?" Ross sat up even straighter in her chair, looming over the quivering boy. "What do you mean gone?"

"I caught her saddling her horse, Milady," The boy said, looking anywhere but her eyes. "I asked if she should be going out alone but she told me she'd report me to her father - Lord Bolton, sorry - if I didn't help her leave. Beg pardons, Milady, but I don't want to cross Lord Bolton. She's gone outside the castle, all alone,"

For gods sake. Of all the stupid, moronic things for Morganna to do... Quite honestly the only thing that Ross could think of that was more idiotic would be to walk into the feasting hall and proclaim that Jaime Lannister was her father.

She let out an incredulous laugh.

"Of course she did. And how long ago was this?"

"An hour or two, Milady, at least," The boy shrunk under her glare. "Pardons, Milady, I tried to tell you sooner but the guards wouldn't let me in here to pass on a message. Said it wasn't my place to bother you - didn't take me seriously,"

"Fine," Ross tried not to glare at him, it wasn't his fault, although she wanted to have those guards flogged. Although if he says 'Milady' one more time... She took a breath. "Thank you. Take this and enjoy it, that's Arbour gold" She thrust the nearest jug of wine at him and he gaped at her, stuttering his thanks, but she was already sweeping away.

"My lord," She interrupted her husband in conversation, not bothering with niceties. "I've just been informed that Morganna has taken her tantrum to another level and actually ridden out on her horse. Now, alone, at night. Can you have of the Bolton men go after her?"

She herself was going to find Brienne and demand why on earth she had let Morganna out of her sight, let alone out of the castle.

"Foolish girl," Bolton seemed as calmly unbothered as he was about everything else. "She won't have got far. I'll send some guards to scout around the base of the walls,"

"The base of the walls?" Ross raised an eyebrow. "Can you not send groups of men out on horses? She could be miles away by now,"

"I don't want to risk sending men out in the dark looking for an errant child," He said mildly. "We need a full garrison for when Lord Tywin arrives. The horses could break their legs, and there are wolves in the Riverlands,"

"Are you serious?" She asked sharply. "Your daughter is out there alone, in a war-torn land, on a horse in the dark,"

"She won't have gone far," He repeated. "We can send men out further tomorrow. It will teach the disobedient girl a lesson at the very least," Something about this extreme carelessness raised alarm bells in her mind. Does he know? Was he hoping she would in fact be eaten by wolves, so he didn't need to bother killing her himself.

"If you don't send men out, then I'll go myself," Ross' voice was louder than intended, and several people looked over. She didn't care.

At the neutral expression from her husband, and no reply, she turned on her heel and swept away in disgust. She saw Jaime heading towards her from the other side of the room and quickened her pace to avoid him; the last thing she needed was for her husband to see them together.

She searched the entire inhabited wing of the castle but Brienne was nowhere to be found. It was only when Ross enquired in the stables that she found out from one of the grooms that the woman had taken a horse herself and left the castle. No doubt tearing after Morganna after she realised she was missing. Alone. Why didn't she come to me? Why did she lose the girl in the first place?

She wanted to ask her own guards to go out after her daughter, but all but the two that followed her now were all deep in their cups in the feasting hall, she had seen for herself. It would be a fool's errand to send them out on horses in the dark now; they'd likely be found in the morning asleep against the castle wall.

After that, Ross enquired after Ren's whereabouts, only to be told that he had disappeared upstairs with some pretty handmaid about half an hour ago. No doubt Lizzie Lewis had come with them to Harrenhal. Crow would have been very useful in tracking Morganna down, and Ross was fully prepared to interrupt them, had Torrhen Karstark not informed her that her son was also dead drunk as well.

She contemplated asking some of the Northern lords to lend her their men, but simply everyone seemed to be on the verge of passing out drunk. Why were they all so far gone? Was the wine produced in Harrenhal that strong? They hadn't looked like they were drinking more than usual. The Others take ale and wine.

Arya and Nymeria were nowhere to be found, and oddly enough neither was Robb. Apparently Lord Stark had bid goodnight to his men an hour ago and gone upstairs with his Frey wife. Men. If drink didn't take them, women would.

Realistically, she could not go out in the dark alone on horseback.

So Ross swept upstairs alone, preparing to depart with herself at the crack of dawn on the morrow - by this point only several hours away - with whichever of her personal guard she could rouse from their beds. She knew she wouldn't sleep, however, even with the mildly comforting knowledge that Brienne was out there looking at that moment.

She must've fallen into a fitful sleep however, as some time later she was woken by one of her guards knocking at the door, saying there was a messenger here from her husband. All the boy had to say was that he wanted to see her concerning Morganna's whereabouts.

Irritated though she was that he was suddenly showing an interest now, and from lack of sleep, Ross could not refute whatever he had to offer, not with the worry still gnawing at her. So she pulled on the nearest dress - a black riding gown with little embellishment - and followed the boy, her guards trailing behind.

As they went through Harrenhal's maze of corridors, staircases and passages, she realised she had no idea where her husband's chambers actually were. The boy seemed to be taking them to the other side of the castle, which did not seem to have many inhabitants, and unease prickled at the back of her neck. The only reason she didn't turn back around and go to her rooms once more was the possibility that he did have some kind of news about her daughter, and the two loyal guards at her back.

Finally they stopped at a door which already had two Bolton men and oddly enough two Stark men stood outside. The boy let her in without knocking.

"What is this?" Ross raised an eyebrow as she entered the room, seeing Robb sat in front of a desk that her husband sat behind. It was only Robb's two guards outside the door, and her own, that made her a little less on edge.

"Sit, my lady," Roose Bolton said, unsmiling. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No," She wasn't sure she trusted the decanter he waved at, and didn't bother with pleasantries, given she was still angry from their earlier argument. "Why have you summoned me here, at this hour, let alone Robb? If it concerns the matter of your own daughter going missing, why did you not deal with that when I asked earlier?" She slowly sat down.

He did not rise to her challenge.

"I recently received a rather concerning letter from Lord Tywin Lannister," Roose Bolton spoke in his usual quiet voice. "I believed it important to share its contents with you both, away from prying ears and eyes,"

"Go ahead, then," Robb was clearly wary of what this letter would say. "All due respect my lord, why would Lord Tywin write to one of my bannermen instead of myself?"

"That will fast become apparent," Why were his very words setting Ross even more on edge? "Lord Tywin has come to the conclusion - not unreasonably - that the young Lord Stark will never accept his grandson Joffrey anywhere near the throne even if he does marry Shireen. Influenced greatly, of course, by his aunt, Lady Rosennis," He inclined his head her way. "Considering the upcoming peace treaty between Lannister and Baratheon... that will not do at all,"

At those words Ross was on her feet immediately, and not a moment too soon. Armed men suddenly entered the room through a back entrance, one of them holding Morganna, a knife pressed to her throat.

"You bastard," Ross shook her head, cursing her own foolishness just to distract herself from the wave of pure dread that ran through her. Of course Morganna hadn't ridden out alone, she really was fine when she had left her earlier.

Roose Bolton had stood up too, quickly followed by a wary but confused Robb.

"What are you - "

"He sided with Tywin," Ross cut him off, cold fear gripping her stomach, and fury too as she looked at her terrified daughter.

"A simple decision to make," Bolton practically shrugged. "Lord Lannister will make my son Edrick and his descendants Lord of Winterfell, and myself Lord Paramount of the North,"

"In return for?" Robb's eyes were narrowed in rage. Bolton simply smiled.

"There are a couple of things I need you to do, my lord," He said. "Comply, and I will let your aunt and cousin live. Refuse, and you all die,"

"Instead of just Robb," Ross finished harshly, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Thinking back throughout her entire life, she couldn't think of a moment when she'd been quite so scared.

Bolton gave a regretful smile, as the sounds of a commotion outside the room met their ears, swords clashing and shouting.

"Right now your guards are being... dealt with by my own men," He said. "Don't think anyone will hear, either - this is a big castle, and the music in the feasting hall is loud. Not to mention how much everyone enjoyed the strongwine,"

He turned to address Robb, who looked like the reality of the situation had just hit him. He had gone from untouchable to extremely vulnerable in a matter of hours.

"You really think you'll get away with this?" Her nephew wore a stoic expression but he was scared, she knew it. "My wife isn't dead drunk like everyone else. She knows I went to see you," Don't tell him that!

"Dear Marianne has been taken care of," Bolton said, raising an eyebrow when Robb snarled. "I don't mean killed," He looked mildly amused. "We simply threatened her younger sister, the one betrothed to Domeric. She will keep quiet, I promise you that. She already tempted you away from the feast to stop you drinking as much as the rest,"

Roose Bolton turned to Ross and Morganna.

"Tomorrow, Morganna will still be missing, as far as all are concerned," The man said simply. "And I paid a whore to don your cloak and ride your horse, my lady. To everyone else it will look as though you left before dawn with a dozen Bolton men to find your wayward daughter, and missed the tragic news of your nephew's death,"

"Where will I be, dead in a ditch?" She spat at him.

"Locked away safely," He smiled thinly. "You heard that we were going to threaten the new Lady Stark. She's going to take the blame for his murder,"

"No," Robb shook his head. "No, she wouldn't. She can't. How is she meant to have overpowered me?"

"You were asleep," Bolton said almost sadly. "She stabbed you in a fit of crazed jealousy after thinking she saw you bedding one of the serving girls. It will then be revealed that no, it was simply a young redheaded knight who bedded the servant, but horror of horrors, Lord Robb has already bled out,"

To that they could only watch in horror.

"I will send men out to find you, of course, my lady," He continued. "You and Morganna will return, only to find yourself disgraced by the news that your younger daughter is in fact a bastard. I will generously take you both back north with me, however, and spare you both the worst," He smiled slightly, awfully. "Why, perhaps your bastard can even marry my own,"

She had no words to that, only the filthiest, most venomous of looks, though her blood ran cold at the very thought.

There was silence for a long moment, all three of them in shocked, horrified silence. Ross should have expected something like this, should've been smarter, should've been more careful. It was too late now.

And then the room descended into madness.

At a wave of Bolton's hand the men in the room sprung into action immediately. Robb was wrestled to his knees, fighting the whole while, but strong as he might be for a boy of sixteen, there were four of them.

Ross' husband slowly moved towards him, drawing a dagger from his belt.

"Traitor," Her nephew accused hoarsely, Ned Stark's eyes looking out from his Tully face.

"No!" Morganna was screaming, crying, struggling against the two men who held her back. "No, don't, you can't kill him, you bastards, YOU CAN'T!"

They can.

Ross knew how this was going to go already. But that didn't mean she couldn't try.

Two men held her, seeming glad that she was simply stood stock-still unlike her daughter, until she suddenly threw all her strength into pulling away from them. It caught them both by surprise, and she managed to slip out of their grip, rushing with her knife drawn towards the men that held her nephew on the ground.

But she was too late. Bolton slit Robb's throat in a spray of blood before she even reached him.

Her nephew met her eyes as the red line bloomed across his neck, for a moment looking impossibly young. And then he started to choke and cough, trying to take huge gasping breaths but his throat was cut, and Morganna was screaming and crying, but Ross dropped to her knees before him, a high-pitched ringing in her ears.

The guards released him and Robb's weight fell into her arms. Ignoring all the blood, she clutched her nephew tight to her, arms wrapped around his dying body, embracing him like a mother. She still held her own knife in a bloody hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She was muttering almost feverishly into his ear as hot red blood poured down her chest and shoulders, his heart continuing to beat. Robb coughed, and might've been trying to speak, but she knew from experience he would be unable with a wound like that.

And then he went still. Ross held him for a few moments more, her ears still ringing, only for his corpse to be snatched roughly out of her arms.

She was on her feet immediately, backing away from the men, knife in hand and ready. She must've looked like a wild thing, drenched in blood, her hair a mess and the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. They were wrapping Robb up in a thick layer of sheets, they were taking him somewhere, to his bed to frame his wife.

Ross didn't know who to point the knife at. The guards by the door, preventing her from escaping? Those who were currently manhandling her nephew's corpse, having just murdered him before her. The men holding her hysterical daughter? Her own husband, who had given the order for the whole thing?

The door opened then, and she felt a brief stab of hope go through her, foolishly, desperately wishing it was Jaime. But no one was here to save her this time. That hope curdled to rage as she recognised Domeric Bolton. Of course he's a traitor along with his evil father.

She was already crossing the room, catching him unawares. Before anyone had a chance to do more than cry out and step forward, Ross had a knife at Domeric's throat, a thin arm wrapped around his neck, and suddenly the power to do whatever the fuck she liked.

"Let both of us go free," Her voice was surprising steady, cold and completely soulless. "Or I kill your son,"

She didn't care that she had been Domeric's stepmother since he was four years old. She didn't think of how she had seen him grow, how they had shared good memories. She had just watched Ned's boy die and wasn't quite thinking at all anymore.

Perhaps predictably, her husband merely looked bored, nodding at the man who held Morganna. The man tugged the girl's hair back, placing a knife at her throat and stilling Ross' own hand.

"It appears we're at an impasse," Bolton's voice was quiet and calm as ever. "Let Domeric go, lady wife, and you will both live,"

Ross gave a derisive laugh.

"I wasn't born yesterday. Your version of living is being flayed slowly under the Dreadfort. Release Morganna first,"

Bolton raised an eyebrow.

"Cut the girl,"

Ross wasn't surprised but her heart still caught in her chest regardless. She had never felt hatred like it, even for Aerys, when the man obeyed, slicing a thin red line with his dagger down Morganna's arm. To her credit the girl barely flinched, though did wince, biting her lip.

"I'll say it again," Her husband said mildly. "Put down the knife and release Domeric,"

"You killed Robb," She said. "You murdered him in front of me," She made no move to release the young man.

Bolton stared at her for a moment then nodded and her daughter was cut for a second time. Blood was flowing down her arm, her eyes already full with tears after seeing Robb die, which flowed freely down her cheeks.

"Father, this is - " Domeric began but Ross interrupted.

"Enough!" She raised her voice sharply, shaking him and pressing the knife harder to his throat. "Enough. I have no desire to hear a single word from the mouth of another filthy traitor,"

"I - " She felt him go to speak again and cut him slightly in warning.

"Speak again and I'll go deeper," Domeric stopped talking.

"I will not harm your daughter any further," Bolton said, as the man continued to cut Morganna's arm without prompting. "Once you agree to not harm my son. If you go deeper, so will I,"

If anything he looked mildly amused by the whole situation, as though it was a minor convenience. What is wrong with you, you cold, soulless bastard? I have a knife to your eldest son's neck!

"I haven't harmed him," Ross spat. "Stop slicing up a child and perhaps I'll be more inclined to listen," Morganna had a dozen cuts now, blood dripping from her fingers onto the floor.

"That's not how this works," A faint smile touched Bolton's lips. "You let Domeric go free and I will order my man to stop,"

"Mother don't do it," Morganna insisted even as the man cut her arm again. "He won't let us go, not after this," Oh sweetling... Ross wished her daughter hadn't realised that, as she herself had been blocking the thought from even entering her mind and now had to acknowledge it too.

Tears poured down Morganna's beautiful face but she didn't cry out. She must have taken lessons from her mother as she abruptly started to fight once more after feigned docility, so much so that the man holding her fumbled his knife. For one moment Ross thought the girl had done it, that she was free, that maybe, just maybe, they might both get out of this alive.

All that came out of it, however, was a new cut on her arm that went a lot deeper as the man tried to get a hold on the slippery knife. He cursed, seeing immediately it had done a lot more damage than he intended. Ross' eyes widened in horror at the sight of all the blood now gushing out of her daughter's arm.

"You vile whoreson!" She screamed with more than a little note of hysteria, pressing her own blade harder to Domeric's neck. "You've gone too deep, you've killed her, get a maester, get anyone! ANYONE, for gods sake. Please," She finally broke. "Please, please, I beg you, don't kill her too,"

The look on the guard's face told her that this had not been deliberate. But it was too late. She heard Domeric Bolton give a sharp intake of breath in her arms.

"Mother," Morganna's voice was slurred, scared. "Mother I don't want to d-die,"

She was unable to say a word. Ross' horrified eyes met her daughter's tear filled face and watched as those grey eyes closed and she slowly slumped, a deadweight in the arms of the man who held her, blood still oozing out of her mutilated left arm.

No sound left her lips but her mouth opened in a silent scream. This was worse than losing Brandon and Father, worse than Lyanna, worse than Ned and even Robb. To see her child die in front of her was the purest kind of agony; a feeling she kept thinking she was familiar with, but with each death the world managed to prove her wrong.

"You fool," Roose Bolton had turned to the man with murder in his eyes, but Ross' entire body had gone very cold, pain pressing down on her mind from all sides.

People had accused her before, often mockingly, of catching Aerys' madness. Only now did she feel like perhaps she really had. She would happily burn them all, in that moment, Jaime Lannister be damned.

"My lady, I - " Domeric started to say.

One slash was all it took.

The boy she had known since he was four years old, to whom she had been the nearest thing he knew as a mother, dropped to his knees, both hands clutching the gruesome red line across his throat, just like Robb's. She felt nothing.

The amount of blood on the floor at this point was truly horrific, if she stopped to think on it. She did not.

"An eye for an eye," Ross spoke aloud, voice hoarse and rasping, sounding like it belonged to someone else. She couldn't transfer her pain to someone else, but she could make them feel the same. "A son for a daughter," It broke on the last word.

She let Domeric fall, ignoring the way he choked and spluttered. She didn't even glance downwards as he died. Nor did she look at the body of her youngest daughter, so small and pale as she lay in a pool of her own blood, or at Robb, Ned's son, who lay dead just over there, now wrapped in a sheet. Just stared straight ahead, the feeling of hot blood running down her wrists, the drip of it on the floor.

The entire room, even her husband, stood stock still. From his expression she could not tell what he felt, or what he would do next. So she acted first.

The dagger was still in her hand as she moved swiftly towards him, the only thought in her head being to kill. She was quick, but he was quicker, and had no doubt seen it coming, because in all honesty her next move wasn't too hard to anticipate.

His knife caught her between the ribs and stabbed right through her heart.


Morganna's head was fuzzy, her vision blurred. It took her a moment or two to realise she was lying on the stone floor in a pool of blood. That would ordinarily disturb her greatly, but now she found that she didn't care. She was quite confused. How had she got here again?

Tilting her head took more effort than usual - she was weak, impossibly weak - but she moved just in time to see the dark figure of a lady glide across the room, the silver blade of a knife shining in her hand. A dagger was there to meet her, though, stabbing through her chest.

Morganna felt like screaming but didn't know why. When she remembered a few seconds later, she wished she hadn't.

"M-m-mother?" Her voice was a croak of a whisper, but her not-father's head snapped her way regardless, blade still buried in her mother's chest, a heart that would beat no more.

The man let go of her mother's corpse, and she crumpled gracelessly to the ground.

"She's alive," His voice was calm, contemplative even amongst the gory scene around them. "Stem the bleeding. Someone fetch a maester who's discreet. Qyburn will do,"

Morganna saw the vague shapes of people moving around her, then her vision was reduced to a tunnel and then went altogether. She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep. No more mother. No more Robb. This must all be a bad dream.


...

Thoughts?