A/N: Hey, all! Sorry for the late update. I've been busy with the continuous job search, the other stories, and going through some personal problems. But I have not forgotten this story nor do I intend to end it without reaching a satisfying conclusion.

For all those who continue to read and stick by this story, thank you all. This is exactly what a writer needs, for even though I write, the response I receive makes it all worth it in the end :D

Robb had not considered that he would be so far from home and still be in a position to determine the lives of many. And yet, here he was standing amongst Barristan Selmy, Tyrion Lannister, and a few other of those in charge of Meereen who were appointed there by Daenerys Targaryen, their queen. I wonder how my uncle and grandfather would see me, if they both saw me helping the ones who help the dragon queen.

But with the men and ships granted to him by his Vhassar benefactor and from the red temple, the situation in Meereen had improved significantly. Despite the overwhelming force that came from the Volantene tigers and the slavers who were following the one calling himself Aegon the Sixth of His Name, the last city in Slaver's Bay that remained in Targaryen control was fortified and they had control of their immediate surrounding areas and access to the sea. The sellsword companies with northern extract had proven most useful, for they alongside the Unsullied helped to bring complete order to Meereen and silence any detractors of Daenerys' cause.

However, no matter how much help he gave, Robb noticed some of Daenerys' supporters began to grumble over how he, a newcomer, was able to exert much influence. Most notable was Daario Naharis, the sellsword who thought so highly of himself and knew what it was be in Daenerys' bed, and he perceived Robb as a threat to how much control he was having. However, the sellsword was wise enough to not openly voice his opposition to Robb, for Grey Wolf would tear him apart. Still, have to keep an eye on a man who is growing too big for his boots.

Unsurprisingly, Robb found himself most comfortable with Ser Barristan. Despite the former kingsguard standing by while his father was arrested and then unjustly executed, Ser Barristan expressed his contrition to Robb and was duly devoted to the defense of Meereen until Daenerys reemerged from hiding. Only fortunate that Ser Barristan found his way here, and told the dragon queen the truth about her father.

Given what had happened the last time he was in Stark custody, there was still tension between Robb and Tyrion. However, he was at least decent enough to acknowledge that the whole incident was not Robb's fault, although he didn't go as far as to blame Catelyn for it. As much as I understand that my mother was at fault, she was still my mother and I will not tolerate any bad words about her.

For Missandei and Grey Worm, they were adept at what they were supposed to do, with the former speaking the common tongue decent enough and Grey Worm being able to understand without a need for an interpreter.

"Lord Robb, our scouts have reported that the enemy is on the march again," the captain-general of the Company of the Rose said. He, along with the captain-general of the Wolf Pack and the red priestess who had accompanied Robb, were allowed to say their piece on the council assembled.

"How many do you estimate?" Barristan asked.

"After cross-referencing his scouts' reports with mine, we are looking at a force of over seventy thousand men, at least a thousand war elephants, and over five hundred vessels, approaching from both the north and the south," the captain-general of the Wolf Pack stated. "As we all are aware, we are facing overwhelming odds from the slavers."

Robb nodded solemnly, just as he did when he fought his own war against the people who took his father's head and made his family flee in separate directions. "But they have not completely surrounded the city. Thanks to my benefactor in Meereen, we are still able to get supplies from the sea and maintain contact with the outside world."

"But that doesn't discount the fact that we have no army large enough to counteract those who follow the one calling himself Aegon Targaryen," Daario pointed out. Despite having a personality that Robb had grown to dislike, at least he was loyal enough to Daenerys to oppose anyone who tried to take her claim away.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Robb asked pointedly.

"We should at least hold out until the Dothraki come," Daario answered.

"No, we shouldn't," Tyrion spoke up. "As much as I admire the fact that Daenerys was their khaleesi, they are hundreds of miles away and cannot help us, not in the disunited state that I hear they are in."

Robb nodded his agreement. Learning about the Dothraki when he was younger and hearing about their status at that moment, he realized that the Dothraki would do more than good despite bringing the numbers that would easily balance out the odds against them. And without Queen Daenerys, it'll be pointless to try to control them anyway, and that is something that I don't need now.

"So we cannot rely on those horse-lords," Robb affirmed. "Which means that the only course of action that we can take is to try and hold our position here."

"And how did that work for you, Stark? You couldn't even hold your own home," Daario had to bring up.

Tyrion, Barristan, Missandei, and even Grey Worm shook their heads. "Must you bring that up now?" Barristan was to first to express his annoyance.

"No, it must be discussed, for how can we trust the fitness of one who lost not only his kingdom, but his crown, his home, and couldn't protect his own family from harm?"

Robb had learned long ago to keep his emotions under control, as lack thereof made him commit blunders such as beheading Rickard Karstark. I am still in the right, but I should have found a more useful fate for him, he thought back. "And what say you? From what I hear, you're just another sellsword whose name would've disappeared into the history books if it weren't for the dragon queen."

Tyrion, unexpectedly, found himself surprised that Robb came up with that response, as did Ser Barristan. As for Missandei, she suppressed an amused smile at Robb attempting to teach Daario a lesson in humility while Grey Worm remained outwardly emotional.

For Daario, he quickly took offense. "At least I'm better than a highborn loser like myself."

"And yet, this loser brought you resources that you have no problem using for your purposes," Robb wasn't in the mood for trading verbal blows, but he felt that someone had to put this overmighty sellsword in his place before he really jeopardized things.

"We honestly could do without you, as our queen will eventually return to us and bring back order and victory in our grasp," Daario was touchingly confident, but he was clearly not seeing the situation as everyone else was.

"Placing your trust in something that isn't here right now," the Company of the Rose leader scoffed. "Our Stark lord might be a loser, but he's not delusional, like yourself."

"And why should I listen to the empty insults of a man whose forebears abandoned their homes?" Daario shot back.

"What did you just say, you little shit?" the leader tightened his fist, which made Daario smile as he went for his weapon.

"I would consider your next actions very carefully," Robb warned before pointing with his eyes at Grey Wind. To everyone's fear, even Daario's, the direwolf was baring his teeth at the sellsword, almost ready to pounce on him. "The last one who drew swords or tried to threaten me in these settings got his fingers bitten off and you're looking at the one who would take pleasure in ripping you apart." Daario kept still, encouraging Robb further. "We're all in this together, but if you think that your history with the dragon queen makes you qualified to speak as if you are above us, you are very wrong in that regard. Now, unless you have something actually useful to share with us, shut your mouth and listen."

Daario ground his teeth, but after seeing that everyone in the council was against him or standing by, he backed down. "Whatever you say, wolf man."

Robb nodded, his satisfaction evident. "As I was saying, our best option is hold Meereen as best as we could. However, we must avoid the situation that befalls anything that is besiege, and that is territory from which the enemy can assault and eventually overwhelm us."

"What do you propose?" Ser Barristan inquired.

Robb glided his hand over the outskirts of Meereen. "We hold as much of territory around Meereen as possible. We conduct a mobile form of defense where we use concentrated force to defend the most critical points while we use light forces to counter any breaches in our lines. In this way, we'll be able to slow down the enemy advance and exhaust them."

"But won't that deplete the resources at our disposal in a gradual manner?" the Wolf Pack captain asked.

"At this point, our best ally is time," Robb said. "With so many of his soldiers away from Volantis, Maegyr will be pressed to resolve his business here so that he can return home. The same could be said of the slave masters, whose only hope for success rest on expelling any presence of the dragon queen from the Slaver's Bay."

"Robb Stark speaks true," the Yi-Tish priestess joined in. "The tigers of Volantis might have obtained support for the war against Daenerys Targaryen, but most of the tiger captains have come with the Maegyrs. Now, should they be away from home for extended periods while the elephants remain in Volantis…"

"The elephants might take control by force since most of the tigers' most able men are here fighting against us," Tyrion caught on while smiling. "So, buying time for us will eventually lead to elephants making a move on the tigers and your Vhassar benefactor might use that to her advantage."

"And the slave masters will start to get exhausted once their hopes for a quick victory have been dashed," Robb added. "Wars are expensive as you all are aware, and they're using their own coffers to pay for the fighting."

Tyrion and Barristan were struck, as the heir to Eddard Stark had grown considerably from the first time that they saw him when King Robert was alive. The Robb they knew previously wouldn't have been so crafty to concoct such a plan.

"But is that not leaving much to chance?" Missandei asked. "We don't know how much time will be afforded to us and we have no way to replenish our forces, even with every able man bearing arms."

"War is a matter of endurance, my lady," Robb told her. "We just have to extend the fighting just long enough for our enemies to crack first. And by employing a mobile defense, we can increase our own chances of survival as well."

"By avoiding costly battles," Barristan thought aloud. "I like it."

"Meanwhile, the slaves will start to see that the slave masters are not in control of the circumstances as they would like to believe and they would soon resist their masters once they are reminded of the alternative presented by Daenerys Targaryen," the Yi-Tish red priestess added.

Once the new strategy was agreed upon, everyone went about to carry out their parts. But before Robb and the northern sellsword captains went to prepare the troops, Ser Barristan stopped him. "Lord Robb, if only your father and mother could see the man that stands before me. I guess only time was needed to bring out the crafty side of a direwolf."

"Time and pain," Robb reminded him.

"We all go through pain, my lord. But instead of letting yourself wallow in despair, you learned. That's a marking of a great leader, someone that I had wished to see in Robert and knew when I saw Rhaegar Targaryen."

Robb nodded his thanks, but he was perplexed as to why he would compare him to Rhaegar, the one responsible for the rebellion. Probably just him remembering on times he thinks were best, he thought before he carried on.


Khiara sat quietly as Yujin underwent his interrogation, who was currently chained to the ground and had water dripping on his head at random intervals. Prior to his return to the palace, she had removed Yujin's princely title and privileges and had him demoted to a simple commoner, meaning that he could be treated however was necessary for the magnitude of his crimes. Despite being the Princess Regent of the phoenix throne, she had to have that decision approved by the military council, who all simply stamped their seals on the document, including Lord Joon. Good thing he's on my side, for no one can deny his moral upstanding.

For his services, Khiara elevated Joon Kitara as Prince of Kushiro, making him the highest ranking noble in the empire only outranked by those with imperial blood and by the Targaryens, with an increase of his personal landholdings and an income of two hundred thousand silver taels for the maintaining of his princely dignity. Joon reluctantly accepted all of these honors, along with the appointment as Captain-General of the entire imperial army. A modest man who doesn't seek power willingly… he'll definitely be useful in my reign.

Regarding Yujin, he was losing consciousness because Namhee made the unwise decision of allowing Arya Stark to use a firearm. However, they both achieved merit nonetheless and Khiara rewarded the both of them with a lump sum of forty thousand silver taels, several bags of precious stones, and gold plates, which made them both very wealthy on their own. Khiara found herself amused that Arya was dumbstruck by how much wealth she was given, as she went through various hardships and was now reaping the rewards of her endurance. If I promise her that there's more from where that came from, who knows what she'll do for me?

Yujin couldn't die without having a trial and getting executed for high treason, so Khiara had the imperial physician sew up his belly wound. But because he lost a lot of blood, he would die anyway, so Khiara remembered a bloodmagic ritual where she made a small cut on her body, extracted a vial of her own blood, and had Yujin drink it. That ritual would then allow the drinker, in this case Yujin, to hold onto life for a just a little longer. That's all I need.

But knowing that the shinobi had trained Yujin well to take pain, Khiara thought it best to subvert his expectations and decided to have him go through the water chamber. How that worked was that drops of water would fall on his head while he was trained, and the drops would fall randomly so as to avoid the subject developing a routine that allowed him to resist. Khiara had learned that true pain was a matter of endurance, and every man would wear out eventually given time. Not that I'm in a hurry.

Khiara had her meals and tea brought to her down in the cells along with the official business. Arya stood beside her, which should've been an honor for her had she not made her do so for the last eleven hours. Despite rewarding Arya, this was her punishment for almost jeopardizing her plan and it showed from her legs now starting to shake.

"What more do you have to gain from this, Your Highness?" Arya asked as the drops continued to fall on Yujin's forehead. "He's not connected to the Prime Minister and whatever men he had with him are either dead or captured."

"I know that," Khiara sipped her tea. "However, I want to see for myself if what I always thought of him was true."

"What, Your Highness?"

"That despite all of his strength and how he had taken well to the sword, he's a weak man who's been afraid his whole life," Khiara said. "He wouldn't have done the things he did if it weren't for a need to compensate for his shortcomings, which started with him being the son of a concubine and being blamed for his mother's death by my father. And I do intend to see him finally break, for people who undergo this always do."

Arya grunted, but she also looked forward to seeing that happen.

A few more hours passed. In spite of being delirious from his wounds, Yujin finally started to shift uncomfortably. His breathing became more erratic and he started struggle against the chains. "I'll see how long it will take until he starts screaming like a pig," Khiara told Arya. Two more hours had passed, and it finally happened, with Yujin bruising his wrists and ankles with his struggles against the chains.

And now came the secondary reason as to why Khiara wanted to interrogate him. If he died before he talked, Khiara would not be able to find out where his secret coffers were. She wasn't going to incorporate them into the treasury, but rather she was going to adopt the same approach he had, which was to use secret money to fund secret projects.

However, she wasn't going to ask those questions herself, for she left Arya to do that. "I give you the satisfaction, Lady Arya. You may inflict as much pain on him as necessary."

Arya grinned and dipped her head in gratitude. "With pleasure."

Khiara walked out of the cells to meet with another brother, Kaijin. Both he and Benjen Stark arrived in the capital with their combined armies, for which she rewarded the uncle of Daeron Targaryen with a promotion to field marshal and inducted him as a lieutenant in the imperial guard. For Kaijin, she had to play this carefully, for even though he didn't want to be the emperor, her rivals could still find a way to use him. If I must, I will kill him.

Kaijin was waiting for her in the gardens, where she bid him to sit and have tea with her. "Dear brother, it's good that you are safe."

Kaijin bobbed his head while drinking the offered tea. "And it's good to see that you are well, Your Highness."

"Indeed," Khiara said. "I must say that you've conducted yourself well in the field of battle, although you yourself fought no battles on your way here."

"That is correct," Kaijin didn't deny.

"Still, along with the arrival of Prince Joon Kitara and your armies, the situation in the capital has becoming increasingly stabilized. The Prime Minister and his armies are on the run and our traitorous brother has been captured. While he will undergo a trial, he will receive the harshest punishment possible," Khiara stated.

"The only punishment befitting his crime," Kaijin reminded her.

"Of course. However, I must admit that I am at a loss on what to do with you," Khiara told him flat. "You have our father's blood in you, you are a prince, and you are Commandant of Firearms, so that puts in a very good position to influence the empire's direction. Some might support you, and some others might see you as a threat. And it won't matter whether you seek the throne."

Kaijin was quick to shake his head. "No, Your Highness. I do not want the throne."

"I believe you," Khiara assured him. "But as I said, it might not matter whether or not you want it. I'm not blind as to how people see me and the stubborn officials in court are very likely to resist me by using you as their tool. That is, until we can reach an understanding."

"And what would that be?" Kaijin asked.

Khiara set her teacup down. "If you were me, dear brother, what would you do? And I invite you to be honest, for our family depends on it."

She could see that Kaijin didn't accept her offer to be frank with her, which she approved of since that confirmed to her that he was not stupid. You better have the right answer, she thought.

"From what I know of you, Your Highness, you know which threats are aligned against you and you know how to deal with them, no matter the means," Kaijin began with. "It is true that there are those who would use me, but you can't kill me because that will make your position more unstable since look what happened to Yujin after he killed our father."

Choose your words carefully.

"So how about I… resign all of my positions and go elsewhere?" That was not an answer that Khiara expected. "There is no way for me to surrender my princely privileges, but I can't be a threat to you if I am not in the empire. And since you'll likely eliminate Sumeng, which I honestly have no issue with, you'll be the only one to claim the throne. It's yours and that's not a burden that I wish to have on my shoulders."

Khiara thought about it, and saw that Kaijin was right. If he was to go into self-imposed exile outside of the empire, no can use him for their own gains and her position would be secure. She could also avoid killing him. "But if you choose to leave, what will you do?"

Kaijin shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps I'll live a simpler life, a less burdensome existence. I only became a soldier because I couldn't see myself maneuvering through court and fighting is all I've known. And I am painfully aware that there is more to running an empire than commanding armies."

"But how will you support yourself?" Khiara inquired.

"If I must have gold, I can just sell my skills to whoever wants them," Kaijin answered.

"No," Khiara shook her head. "While I approve of your decisions, there are things that a prince cannot do and being a sellsword is one of them. If you are to leave, I'll make sure that you never have to worry about survival. The world outside of the empire uses gold, so I'll give you enough so that you can live comfortably for the rest of your days."

"You would do that for me?" Kaijin clearly did not expect that kindness from Khiara.

"Don't misunderstand. You have our father's blood and it's only right that you rely on no one beneath our stations. But we will have to have records, so that no one can dispute what we've discussed today."

"Of course," Kaijin agreed.

"I do ask that you do not carry out your plans until the day before I am coronated as the new empress," Khiara requested. "You are still a general in the army, so it's only proper that you take a seat on the military council. It's best that the both of us show a united front for the time being."

"Understood," Kaijin nodded.

"Also, I might have use for you when it comes to the Prime Minister and our brother. As the Targaryens and Prince Joon are here, you and Field Marshal Stark will be the ones that will take charge in cleaning up the remainder of their forces. For that reason, I am appointing you as the new imperial commissioner for justice and direct you to punish the rebels however you see fit. Your jurisdiction will cover the entire empire, although you will mostly be busy in the southern provinces."

Kaijin was surprised that Khiara would delegate such responsibilities to him, but he was quick to realize that it was her way of testing her trust in her brother. "I will see to it that the criminals are eradicated."

"Good," Khiara nodded. Just then, they both heard dragon roars crack through the sky and looked up to see both Drogon and Meleys flying in circles around each other. Khiara chuckled, for she could see the feelings that Daenerys Targaryen had towards Daeron. But I wonder what her thoughts will be since there are those who have seen the dragon prince naked, including me?


"Come back to bed," the whore urged Ramsay in her usual seductive tone. While he would have taken her offer to tumble once more, he was not in the mood and brushed her off.

"I have important business to attend to," Ramsay answered coldly. But it wasn't anything that the whore did that made him distant from his bedmate. Rather, it was the deteriorating situation around him that was pushing to the very limits of his tolerance. And shockingly, inflicting pain on the servants of Winterfell and having his hounds chase children for no apparent reason were both inadequate in sating him. What good is pleasure these days if I can't enjoy a moment's peace in my home?

Ramsay dressed in his cloaks, for winter was nearing and the North was not meant for the faint-hearted. Walking through the increasingly silent hallways of Winterfell, the very castle that his father took as a prize from his usurpation of the Starks, Ramsay made his way to the solar. Expectantly, he could hear yelling from behind the doors, for Lord Smalljon Umber and Lord Harald Karstark were both complaining to his father on the latest of his failures. This must be interesting.

"Come in," Roose said after hearing Ramsay knock. Upon the entry of Lord Roose's only grown heir, with his Frey wife still not having conceived, he rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. My son has finally decided to join us. I would have thought that you had more pressing concerns."

Ramsay ignored the venomous disdain hidden in his father's voice. "If the houses of Umber and Karstark are both speaking to you now, then whatever I did is of little importance in comparison."

Roose shook his head while Smalljon Umber snorted and Harald Karstark scoffed, but they continued their business. "Lord Roose, you promised to give me three thousand soldiers to help me fight against the wildling shits, all of whom have taken my home. Even after my repeated request, you have denied me that."

"I had more pressing concerns, Lord Umber," Roose answered.

"And what would that be, my lord?" Like Smalljon Umber, Harald Karstark was just about to lose his patience with their overlord.

"As you know, we don't have the means to fight the wildlings. Therefore, I have been in contact with King's Landing and imploring the small council to send an army up north to fight alongside us."

Umber laughed. "You really think that those shits down in that red castle will do that? Fat Robert ignore the north right after we helped him, and you think that given the deaths between our people, they're going to fight alongside us?"

"That's partly your fault, since you chose to declare Robb Stark as King in the North," Roose shot back.

"And it's your fault that you have not considered bloodshed being a factor, which is something that you should understand above anything else. Or has the descendant of flayers forgotten what it meant for bitterness to reign?" Harald joined in.

Roose's eyes darkened. "You better remember your place, Lord Karstark. I extended you my hand since we both had cause against the Starks rule in the North, but this is how you repay me? I even gave you a roof over your head after you failed to defend your home."

Harald gritted his teeth, as the soreness of his defeat by wildlings made his veins partially bulge through his skin.

"What Lord Karstark is saying is that you placed our hopes in the wrong sorts." Smalljon Umber then shook his head in exasperation. "You know what? Why am I even talking to you? You lost your home."

"What did you say?" Roose's eyes widened in anger.

"You lost your ancestral lands to the wildlings, just as we have. You're just as incapable of holding on to what's yours, but that will cause more trouble for us since you are supposed to be our lord."

"I AM your lord," Roose emphasized. "You'd do well to remember that. And while the loss of the Dreadfort has been quite a setback, we still have Winterfell and control over much of the North."

"And yet, the fall of your original castle has opened the entire eastern half of the North to the wildlings. What's more, we barely have enough men and the onset of winter will greatly restrict our ability to respond to the wildlings, who are gaining more ground and still outnumber us multiple times over," Karstark added.

Roose would not have normally allowed these men show such insolence in his presence, as they were the two of most powerful bannermen under his control, he couldn't afford to alienate them. He then turned to Ramsay. "If there is anyone to blame for this calamity, blame my son."

Umber and Karstark turned to Ramsay. "What?"

"Let it be known that instead of killing the traitor Theon Greyjoy as anyone with any common sense would have towards traitors, my son decided to have his fun with him and in the process give him the layout of the Dreadfort. It is possible that Theon, while still a prisoner and my son's personal pet, took in more than he should've and his knowledge allowed the wildlings to breach our defenses," Roose turned to shift the blame to Ramsay.

Ramsay seethed, not willing to let the man who treated him like shit for too long to put the fault on his shoulders and he did so while ignoring the glares from the lords of Last Hearth and Karhold. "And what about you, father? What have you done to respond to the wildling army than to sit around in this large castle that you took from the Starks?"

"I haven't seen you complaining about your new accommodations, son," Roose responded with.

"While the Wall was breached and the lands so close to it have been taken," Ramsay continued. "You were too busy trying to sire a new boy in that Frey bitch that you have taken into your bed. Do you really think that I am blind to your intentions regarding her and me?"

Roose gave him a look that said "Of course not," which was enough for Ramsay. "As much as we are amused that the son is finally biting the hand that feeds him—" Umber spoke up, but Ramsay kept talking.

"And as these two men have rightly pointed out, you thought you could get help from the Lannisters, which was the last thing that they would do considering that you also fought against them before deciding to turn cloaks."

Roose breathed through his nostrils. "I only did what any sensible man in my position would have done. It was a losing war after all."

"And yet, the men you saved and spared from slaughter was still not enough to fight off the wildlings?"

That caught the attention of Umber. "What is that about, boy?"

Ramsay smiled gleefully, for he saw his chance at last. "Oh, you don't know? My father sent men to Duskendale by claiming he was under orders of King Robb, but in actuality, he did it because he wanted more hatred against Robb from the Karstarks."

Harald narrowed his eyes while Roose snorted. "That's ridiculous. What are you exactly saying?"

"Lord Harald, I know you loved your brother, Harrion. And you were right to be angry about King Robb causing the deaths of your brothers Eddard and Torrhen. However, did you know that my father sent your brother to die at Duskendale because he wanted one more casualty to finally drive your father to rebel against the Starks?"

Harald glared at Roose. "Is this true?"

"Of course not. The boy is making up lies," he attempted to defend himself.

"You would believe him, the man who lost much already and is not doing anything to gain more?" Ramsay pressed on. "And does the occupation of Karhold and Last Hearth not serve his interests, so that you will rely on only him?"

In all honesty, Ramsay himself wasn't sure that what he was saying had some truth in it. But once his father decided to leave him to the beasts, replace him with a young babe in a Frey womb, and with the lager Umber about to crush him, he decided to spill the rumors his father had worked hard to suppress.

"That certainly does sound like what you would do," Smalljon spit on the ground. "You betraying your own kind just so that you can get ahead."

As Roose saw that Smalljon was believing Ramsay's partially true ruse and with Harald Karstark not about to intervene on his behalf, he steadied himself. Meanwhile, Ramsay walked up to his father, smiling sickeningly in his direction.

"How does it feel, father? You spent all this time trying to supplant the Starks, and you've done little to secure your gains. And now that you've tried to frame me, it's only right that I pay you back."

"With what?" Roose raised an eyebrow.

All of a sudden, Ramsay unsheathed his dagger and stabbed his father in the heart, surprising him despite how the men in the room started to develop ideas of his death. But just after he withdrew his knife from his father's heart and he fell to the ground, he was still breathing and looking up with the widest eyes imaginable.

"How interesting… you are clinging on to life as if it still mattered anymore," Ramsay laughed.

Then, from the side, Harald walked towards Roose's dying body on the floor and stomped on his neck, effectively crushing his throat. As ignoble as his rise in station, Roose was extinguished just as he was about to lose everything.

Ramsay, Smalljon, and Harald all glanced at each other. "Now what?" the Umber lord asked. "You've killed your father, which makes you a kinslayer."

"Now… we get to fight a little more aggressively," Harald suggested. "I've been stuck in this cursed castle for too long. It's time for action."

Ramsay swayed his head to and fro. "Agreed. But we also have to remain around Winterfell. As long as this castle belongs to us, our hold on the North will remain stable. And it's not like the wildlings are of any threat against us despite how far they've progressed."

"But we want our homes back," Umber made clear to him.

"And we shall. Therefore, I shall hand over a few Bolton spearmen to you. You may use them however you wish," Ramsay stated. "In the meantime, I will ask the Ryswells to spare some horsemen to aid you."

Umber nodded. "Well, that's more than what your father gave."

"What about me?" Harald made himself heard.

"How about we lead the Karstark horsemen to raid against the wildlings? It might not be an advance on Karhold, but we have to start from somewhere."

Harald grunted. "As you say so. Better than sitting on my ass."

It was then that they all noticed Maester Wolkan, the replacement for Luwin, who must've seen the door open but was shocked upon the body of Lord Roose on the floor.

But instead of the maliciousness Ramsay had for his father, he showed cold expressions to the maester, who was rightfully afraid for his life. "Ah, Maester. I have task for you. Send ravens to all the northern houses. Tell them that Roose Bolton is dead by his own hand, having decided that the rigors of lordship was indeed too much for him to handle." Harald Karstark and Smalljon Umber chuckled at that, while the maester hesitated. "How did he die?" Ramsay asked with warning.

Wolkan gulped, "He died, by his own hand."

Harald stepped forward. "You're talking to your lord. Use respect."

Wolkan nodded, "Forgive me, my lord. But I have come to bring news."

"What news?" Ramsay pressed.

"Twenty thousand Valemen have landed at White Harbor, with Lord Manderly facilitating them. At the head is a girl claiming herself to be Sansa Stark," Wolkan explained.

Ramsay, Harald, and Smalljon looked at each other with alarm. "This could be a problem," Harald stated.

"You think?" Smalljon exclaimed.

Ramsay, in the meantime, found that his situation had become much more complicated. My father failed to punish those mermen, and now I will have to clean up his mess.


As his spirit entered into the deep recesses of the Land of Always Winter, the one who had appointed himself as the leader of the next coming of the Long Night was currently in a bind. He was digging up whatever corpses he could obtain in the lands north of the Wall, from people long dead to animals that have long been driven to extinction. The hundred thousand wildlings under Mance Rayder would've been a great accelerator to his plans, but someone had to become wise and allow them entry. There was no doubt that he would eventually find the numbers to launch his invasion of the lands south of the Wall, but he suffered a setback and he was running out of time.

A truth not yet known to the larger world, the Land of Always Winter was a place where the earth was connected. But thanks to the desolate nature and frigid climate of this place, no person dared to venture this far north. That proved useful, as those who brought out the first Long Night were able to retreat when they were pushed back. Man had united under a common figure, someone who could command the flames and demonstrated the strength needed to prevent darkness from enveloping the far reaches of the earth. And for thousands of years, the forces of those who sought to bring back the Long Night had been healing, gathering their strength, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

The leader of the race many called "the White Walkers" was merely one of the many that was to reinitiate the Long Night. He had once been a man, a scion of a great house that ultimately pushed the first Long Night back, before he became a tool for those that sought to strike back at man and developed ideas of his own. And now here he was, summoned by the ultimate power of darkness, residing deep beneath the ice and in the cold dark waters on the top of the world, where no living man would ever find it.

He could not plunge into the waters, for that was a realm he was forbidden from entering, and he could only wait for the one to emerge from his home. Blizzards raged in the desolate white ice that covered this place, but that bothered him none. When is he coming?

Then, the ice cracked and collapsed into the cold water, from where a black mist emerged and surrounded him. The sounds made by this mist resembled an eerie exhale, one that could be heard through the blizzards, and this mist was the only form that could assumed, for the physical had been eradicated.

The leader of the white walkers stood still, for this was the very one who wanted darkness to reign and was the very essence of it. This one had many names throughout the world, all with the same meaning. In the east, it was called the Bloodstone Emperor. In Valyria, it was called Balerion. The Andals called him the Stranger, although it thought the Andalic concept a poor attempt to understand it. Many cultures rightly associated it with the underworld, but they also didn't realize that it was responsible for the destruction of the Valyrian civilization and the collapse of the Great Empire of the Dawn. "They dug too greedily and too deep while playing with fire. It was only a matter of bringing back balance," it rationalized.

Quite fittingly, when the mist settled, a figure in a black hood emerged and approached the leader of the White Walkers. "So, you've finally came," it whispered, but it was loud enough. "And you need my help with cleaning up the mess you've made."

The leader of the White Walkers shook his head. "With all due respect, dreaded one, I cannot control the actions of man when they see my subordinates out in the open."

"And yet, you think that makes you less responsible for the setbacks you've experienced?"

"No," the leader affirmed. "Although if you do want your plans to go forward, I need help."

"Has the power I have granted you not been enough to create these subordinates you wrongly blame for your mishaps?"

"You have been most generous," the leader stated.

"And has the time that I bought for you not been enough to heal from the wounds of the mistakes you made thousands of years ago?"

"It's been more than enough, dreaded one."

"And was I not the one who exposed you to the truth of man and the creatures of the world? Surely, having that dragonglass pierce your chest set you free as much as it removed your bonds to the dying world."

The leader thought back to when the Children of the Forest turned him into the form he was forced into, a memory that made him hate the Children as well as men. "You have enlightened me very much, dreaded one."

"In light of all of this, you seek more from me, the one that gave you everything that you have now?" the figure hissed.

"You cannot bring the Long Night back to the east, at least not until Westeros has been subjugated. The people in especially the lands once known as the Great Empire of the Dawn are much too advanced and they are too close to the shadowlands, who do have the power to cause you and I great hindrance. But with the near annihilation of the practitioner groups in Westeros, our chances of success are great over there."

"Ours?" the figure asked. "You speak as if we are equals, when that is far from the truth?"

"My apologies, dreaded one," the leader quickly said.

"And I must say that your wish to conquer Westeros seems a bit tainted, for is that not where you had close ties, and this is only another attempt to take back the home you think you lost?"

The leader stared back. "I have never allowed my ties to that place to affect my judgement."

"Is that so?" the figure asked pointedly.

"I only ask that you take my obstacles seriously. I have been digging as deeply as I can, but there is only so much corpses I can resurrect-"

The figure huffed. "The only matter I do not take seriously, boy, is you. Your problems bore me, and your demeanor is that of a pouting child. More importantly, haven't you learned that you cannot lie to me?"

"I have done nothing of the sort."

"Is that so… my lord?" the figure brought up his past as the lord of a great family, a family that rose to prominence thanks to the efforts of the one they called the Builder. The leader tried very hard as to not let it offend him. "I can see that you are uncomfortable with your true origins. If you were truly interested in the second coming of the Long Night, you would have cut your losses and come east. After all, there are plenty of my assets there already ready to work. They could use someone like yourself."

"Those assets… I request them to be sent to the lands beyond the Wall."

"And why would I do that? They're already ready to strike the Five Forts."

"And if they do attack the Five Forts, they will never advance more than a few miles past it, for the Golden Empire is too organized, possess too advanced weaponry and more importantly have not exterminated their powerful practitioners. I repeat that Westeros is a place where my efforts will be met with more progress. You might accuse me of having a personal reason to go after that accursed land, but must you be reminded of the defeats you suffered at the hands of that wretched spirit, who was so instrumental in ensuring the Lightbringer pushing back the darkness?"

The figure growled. The spirit that he was referring to, which took on the form of a dragon for its true form was incomprehensible to people, had been one of the many agents of creation when the world was coming from dust and that spirit was the last one left. It sensed that spirit was still active, but what alarmed was that it was on the move once more. Whatever that spirit was doing caused the figure great concern, something the leader of the White Walkers was quick to see.

"Such a spirit does not exist in Westeros, so all of your assets will be better spent there." The figure was silent. The leader could tell that it was thinking, so that was a good sign.

"You do realize that since the passing of that red comet, dragons have returned to the world and are growing rapidly? What is your plan for them?"

"May I ask what your plan is, dreaded one?"

The figure crooked his head at the leader. "Perhaps you can be of use to me and our goals might be aligned for once. How aware are you of the sea dragons of the deep?"

"Not well," the leader of the White Walkers admitted.

"There existed many sea dragons. Just as there were those that ruled the skies with fire, there were those that ruled the seas with their sheer might. And I have sensed that there is one left, the biggest one of them all, and long has it been in its slumber."

"But dreaded one, I cannot enter the water, for that is not my domain."

"Only after you are able to breach that wall of ice will your limitations disappear," the figure answered. "But you cannot do that just yet."

"What should I do then, dreaded one?"

The figure sighed. "Just as that dragon spirit was one of the agents of creation, there were those who aligned themselves with me to tear down the creations of light and bring back the natural darkness. I know that one of them is still active deep in the Sunset Sea, but all I can do is connect you to it. After that, you are on your own, for if you use to control that sea dragon, it must be of your own power."

The leader nodded. "I shall wait then, dreaded one."

"Good. Leave me. I shall give you my final answer soon." The leader of the White Walkers left the deep recesses of the Land of Always Winter. "I hope you know what you are doing… Lord Stark."

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it! Robb is helping Meereen withstand the coming onslaught, Khiara giving Yujin his comeuppance before he dies while also extending mercy to her half-brother, and Ramsay killing his father but also messing things up more like in canon (even more so since Roose has no son and the Valemen are following Sansa, their entry made easy since the Manderlys are supporting her).

For the meeting with the Night King and his benefactor (who I made the essence of the underworld), their relationship is akin to Ronan and Thanos. But oh boy, nothing good can come when that sea dragon finally emerges from being dormant (I'll let you all imagine for now what that looks like).

Again, thanks for the support and I shall continue to update!