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Title Quote:

"Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this? She deserves more than darkness..."
"She was a Stark of Winterfell. This is her place."

Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, A Game of Thrones

The sun shone brightly on Brandon's face, and it felt like centipedes were chewing through his brain. The rank, rancid smell of vomit hit Brandon like a punch in the lung. It was the smell of his own vomit Brandon realized.

Someone had propped Brandon's back up against the frame of his bed. He must have fallen out of it sometime in the night, for Brandon hazily remembered his father tucking him in like a child. It had felt good, the drinking and the crying. Cathartic. It had been a long time since he had last cried like that.

Someone knocked, the sound of bone on wood sending jolts of pain through Brandon's head. His eyes felt as if they might burst and all the colors around looked more muted and more vibrant at the same time.

"Gods, you look like shit, brother!", said Ned from the doorway.

Great, of course it had to be Ned that came to Brandon in the morning. Brandon did not have the patience to listen to his lucky little brother, not today.

"Piss of, will ya? Go fuck your Dornish cunt and leave me be."

Brandon realized he should not have said that when he felt his headache exploding, courtesy of Eddard's fist. Brandon's brother did not even say anything, but his eyes turned hard as steel. Eddard simply stepped up to the curtains and yanked them open. The sun was blinding.

Gods, give me a cloud, Brandon wanted to shout.

"Sorry."

The apology came from himself, Brandon noticed. It sounded hollow. Eddard did not look very accepting, though he did settle on a chair across from Brandon.

"You're even drunker than that day at Harrenhal. At least you were coherent enough to speak and put up a fight back then. Do not go cussing Shara again, ever. Next time it will not end for you with just a broken nose and a dislocated jaw. Am I clear, Brandon?"

Eddard's threat was again spoken in that factual, almost bored tone. It sounded like an oft-repeated platitude from Eddard's mouth, not like the promise of violence that it was. Brandon's brother could be terrifying.

"I understand", was all that Brandon could answer.

"Great that we're clear on that. Don't bother coming for breakfast, I think it better you wait until I'm done. I don't think I can stand the sight of you right now, Brandon."

Emotionless, that was what Eddard sounded like. Brandon hated it. This Eddard did not seem like the Ned Brandon had built snow forts with and who used to go looking with Brandon for direwolf pups in the Wolfswood. And Brandon knew there was only one thing he could do that might set them straight again. Or it might catch him another fist. You never knew with the truth.

"Wait, Ned. I'm not…"

Brandon faltered as he spoke; but Ned did stop on the doorstep. This was the only way they would ever be brothers again.

"I am not as drunk as that day at Harrenhal. The truth is I cannot even remember most of the tourney, and the day Ashara came to my tent I had drunken way more than I could handle and –"

"Don't", Ned growled, no, Ned snarled, "do not make excuses for that day. And especially no excuse as pathetic as a drunken mistake. If you do, I think I will start to hate you, Brandon."

There was fire now in Eddard's eyes, burning with cold purpose and a wolf's rage. His brother had it, Brandon saw. Eddard had the wolf's blood, and it had been forged into a weapon.

"I have never been more low than during that blasted tourney. That day I assaulted Ashara because I was jealous of you, and the drink had robbed me of sense."

Eddard looked at him, and Brandon saw a lord paramount that someday would make Boltons and Umbers cower. But Ned did not leave.

"Explain!"

"When our party left Winterfell for Harrenhal, we collected my foster-brother Willem outside Barrowton. I'd never seen Willem happier, Ned. Willem told me his father had arranged Willem's marriage to Barbrey Ryswell."

Brandon swallowed, yet his throat remained parched.

"And I have loved Barbrey as long as I can remember.

"Did you know, Ned, I once begged father to break my betrothal with Catelyn Tully? I fell to my knees in front of father and I cried my eyes out when he denied me. When we made it to Harrenhal, to the tourney of all tourneys, I drank and fought and fucked to forget it all. And sometimes it worked."

Brandon looked up into Ned's eyes again, still as unrelenting as steel. And Brandon could not censor the scorn his look carried himself.

"That's where we met you again, Ned, and from the second day you were so happy - so disgustingly happy - in love with the beautiful Ashara Dayne, and she was in love with you. Gods, I despised you then."

The steel turned to fog, and all that stared down at Brandon was pity. Brandon hated it, and he hated himself.

"I was drunk when I went up to ask the lady to dance with you. I did not turn sober once during that entire tourney. Have you ever been so wasted that you felt a spectator in your own body? When you seem sober outside, but the truth is that someone else has taken your body? Some that's still you, just without inhibitions and guided only by emotions and whims?"

Ned snorted at that.

"Robert Baratheon is my foster-brother. I do not overindulge, but I've seen every type of drunk there is."

Brandon felt a sardonic smile tugging his lips, but he squashed it before it became visible. He would make Ned angry enough in a second. He'd make Eddard very, very angry.

"Well, that was me the majority of the tournament, Ned. I fucked more than twenty women in the ten days we were at Harrenhal. Twenty-three, to be exact. Then Ashara came looking for you, a day after I'd dropped out from the joust. I was drunk, I was that somebody else, and I was angry… So-. Fucking-. Angry!

"Did Ashara ever tell you what happened in that tent?"

Eddard's jaw tensed and his gaze was cutting, but Brandon braced himself and recounted the day, losing himself in the memory.

Brandon had taken a woman from a minor Fossoway branch to bed the day earlier. He didn't quite remember whether the wench was a red apple or a green apple Fossoway, but when she left, her apple bottom had turned a scarlet red.

Brandon had barely chased the woman out an hour ago when Ashara Dayne cautiously entered his tent, asking after his brother Ned.

"Lord Brandon", he'd heard his name from outside, "Ashara Dayne here. Do you know where Ned is?"

"At the Arryn camp. His friend Robert is terribly hungover after out drinking first Richard Lonmouth and Kyle Royce after. You know him, Ned cares. He'll be back here soon, why don't you wait with me?"

The tent flap opened, and the stunner Ned had wooed at the opening banquet entered. Ashara Dayne had a serene look to her, she was obviously overjoyed. Her smile wasn't all that big, showing only the barest hint of pearl-white teeth, yet her dimples were more pronounced for it than if she had worn a huge grin.

The girl looked half-dreaming, and her movements had an unconscious flow to them. 'Laughing purple eyes' Ned had waxed about her, and Brandon could see it well. Her eyes matched her dress, a silken gown with batik swirls of lilac, purple and lavender.

Brandon had to admit the Dornish lady his brother fancied did not simply have beauty and grace, she also displayed good taste. Ashara Dayne's layered dress accentuated her figure in a way that was seductive without being sultry, a fine balance to strike.

Brandon gestured for one of the fur-covered hassocks that lined his tent and grabbed two cups and a pitcher of ale. The last of the wine he'd drunken two days ago, and now Brandon usually nursed his cup with a mixture of ale and grain brandy. It kept Brandon from thinking, so Brandon kept drinking.

'Thank you', Brandon's guest said as she took her ale, though she pulled a slight grimace as she sipped from her cup. Brandon lifted his own cup to hide a grin. Ashara Dayne's drink was pure Northern ale, but the taste was to be acquired.

"Ned's been talking of nothing but you the last few days, Lady Ashara, I hope you're not just stringing him along for his good looks", Brandon jested, more to fill the silence than for the need of conversation.

Still, Ashara giggled at the jape. It did not sound melodious as some girls tried for, and a little deeper than the usual tone of her voice, but Ashara's laughter rang true.

While Brandon had to admit that Ned did have a striking look when he put on his stern face and his lean frame drew just as many gazes as Brandon's muscular one, Ashara Dayne just looked above anyone's league at the entire tourney.

"I really am thankful for pushing Ned into my arms at the opening day, Lord Brandon, I had not thought it possible to become so fond of another so easily", Ashara said while unsuccessfully trying to stifle her laugh, "but fear not, I appreciate your brother for more than just his outward beauty."

The confidence Ashara held while speaking showed she was aware of her own beauty, yet she did not appear arrogant. Brandon thought there'd probably been scores of bards singing to her beauty at the capital.

And Brandon understood well, the easy comfort one could slide into with that one person. Barbrey. – Barbrey Dustin. Brandon quickly took a deep pull from his cup, and the burn in his throat chased the thought away. Still, the bitterness lingered.

"I believe you, it's something-. Something real. So effortless, and more precious for it."

Brandon heard himself speak the words, and he meant them. Yet, he had not meant to say them. Barbrey and Willem.

Ashara must have only noticed Brandon's speaking, for Brandon was sure his face did not match the light wistfulness of his words.

"Yes!"

Ashara almost shouted her agreement.

"That's it, that's exactly it! You Starks seem to know how to say what you mean!"

Brandon was glad at the distraction, and happy for his brother. Ashara Dayne seemed to feel the same for Ned as Ned felt for Ashara Dayne. A chuckle escaped Brandon as Ashara's eyes found his face again.

"Well thank you, my lady. And please, do call me Brandon. It feels wrong, you calling me Lord Brandon when you are that close with my brother, Lady Ashara."

"Gladly, Brandon. But only if you call me Ashara in return."

Ashara gifted Brandon a smile then, and it was warm and with almost sisterly fondness. It struck Brandon wrong, to get such a smile from her. To be liked because of Brandon's relation with Ned.

Brandon could not help but wonder, shouldn't he be happier? Lyanna always had basked in Barbrey's sisterly affection. If Catelyn would ever show such a smile to Brandon's siblings?

"Ashara, then", he said, feeling hollow. Still, anything to keep talking, anything to keep from thinking. A short burn was on his throat, then Brandon remembered he had to refill his cup.

"Ned is definitely the more gifted with words between us two, everything he says sounds profound. But maybe that is because he talks so little."

Ned. Ned was a good topic to remain on, so Brandon continued.

"Our father always used to say: 'You can reach everything, as long as you can bridge the gulf between intention and articulation.'

"Well, from then on Ned only spoke in the profound. As for me? I don't think father wanted to give me advice on how to sweet talk girls, but he did."

Ashara laughed again, that slightly deeper laugh of hers. Brandon heard another, a throaty chuckle that was almost a rasp, but it was only a bittersweet memory he realized.

Brandon's drink wasn't so bitter anymore, and his cup was empty again. A little more grain brandy in the next cup, and the ghost of a laugh disappeared.

"Oh, Ned can be quite the sweet talker, Brandon. And away from the crowds he isn't that quiet a wolf anymore. I'll even suffer that hateful tree in Harrenhal's godswood just to hear him talking of the stars or his dreams or of us."

At the last admission Brandon almost thought he saw Ashara blush, but surely Ned wasn't that sappy. Was he? Brandon just kept his eyes on the Dornishwomen, his own smirk stretching a little.

Ashara Dayne was definitely blushing.

"Well," the woman said hastily, as if embarrassed, "do you fall into the same effortless fondness with your betrothed, Brandon?"

Brandon's face fell, at least from the reaction he saw on Ashara's face. Brandon did not particularly feel fondness for Catelyn Tully, and the feelings toward Catelyn Brandon felt effortlessly were anything but fond.

"Tell me, Ashara," Brandon felt himself answer, or rather, felt his mouth move as he heard his own words, "do you believe it possible to feel such fondness for your betrothed when that very betrothal keeps you from a beloved?"

Ashara Dayne seemed reluctant to answer, Brandon noticed between sips, or at least weighing her words very carefully.

"I hope you can, with time."

The words came hesitatingly when Ashara finally spoke, yet she did not stop there.

"And I hope never to find myself in such a position. Yet-"

There was a flash of pity in Ashara Dayne's eyes as her words halted for a second.

"Yet I hope you know that women have less of a choice in their betrothals than men, Brandon. Would it not be worse to keep yourself from possibly growing fond of your betrothed because you blame her for something she has no control over?"

Brandon could not remember ever having felt more devoid of emotion. Ashara broke eye contact first, but still Brandon saw that damnable pity in her gaze. Brandon found his cup empty, as he found his flagon. As Brandon stood to get another, he slowly felt his feelings return, and stronger than ever.

There was a restlessness to Brandon as he refilled his cup, and he noticed that it was almost pure brandy as he drank. Pity. How Dare she pity him? How dare she pity Him?!

Brandon turned around, yet he could not sit. Ashara Dayne did not look comfortable sitting on the hassock anymore, yet she did not stand.

Standing, Brandon was not comfortable doing that either. He walked a little, and that was better. Not good, but better.

The liquid in his cup sloshed a little and spilled over, so Brandon drank to keep that from repeating. Brandon thought of Catelyn, and then of Barbrey. Of Ashara and Ned, and of fondness, and Brandon walked and drank, and Ashara sat silent.

"Ashara," Brandon said as Ashara flinched, Brandon's voice hoarse, "your… effortless fondness for Ned…"

The Lady Dayne seemed to relax, and Brandon was not sure he liked that. What was he asking again? Brandon did not remember, but a question came to him.

"Have you ever felt it for another?"

"No."

Ashara Dayne sat calmer as she answered, contemplating. There was a tender air about her, and again Brandon felt a discordant dissonance. Why was Ashara happy right then, sitting there?

"I've not felt the way I feel about Ned with anyone before. It's…- it's new."

There was a sense of wonder to Ashara's words. Brandon understood her. He yearned for that. Why wasn't Brandon feeling that type of wonder anymore?

"Do you think you could ever feel the same with someone else?"

Brandon did not know where this question had come from, but he saw that Ashara seemed uncomfortable with the question again. Somehow, that did not feel wrong, so he did not mind where the question had come from.

"I-. I do not know. Actually. I do not know if I wanted to, Brandon…"

Ashara faltered, and from that alone Brandon had to smile a little. It wasn't a nice smile, and Brandon had smiled nicely for many girls the last few days.

"I do not like my parents or my siblings the same way, yet I like them as much as each other. If Ned and I cannot-. I hope to take a liking to important people in my life."

Ashara's words were as much an answer as they were not. Some part of Brandon agreed with Ashara. Another part of Brandon simply screamed. Brandon took another sip, yet the screaming got louder in his head, instead.

"What about me?"

Ashara looked at him a little spooked, like a deer that had caught a wolf's scent.

"I do not understand-. Brandon, what about you? Yes, you can like someone else differently?"

Brandon did not know what answer he wanted, but this answer was not it.

"No, Ashara."

What did Brandon want?

"Could you like me as much as Ned?"

That was not really what Brandon wanted to ask, but then again, Brandon did not know what he wanted to ask. At least, Ashara looked anxious now, and Brandon liked that.

"Could you?", Brandon asked as he stepped closer to Ashara, and the Dornishwoman trembled a little. Brandon had to smile at that.

Brandon lifted his cup once more, but it was empty. He turned to set the cup on the table. He had to, because Ashara was before him now, and the table behind him.

When he looked back Ashara seemed smaller.

"Please-"

"Please what?", Brandon said as Ashara shivered beneath him.

Hadn't Brandon been in this position often, these days?

A woman beneath him, looking up, saying please?

"Please don't…"

That was new, but maybe Ashara did not know better.

My, Brandon had to say, she was beautiful. That dress so layered, so enticing.

Why did Ashara not kiss him back? Why was Brandon kissing Ashara?

The first layer came of from Ashara's dress, so that was why they were kissing. But she was not kissing back.

Brandon's hand felt a shoulder strap, so he pulled it as he pressed down from above.

Brandon's other hand found Ashara's breast, but she was not reacting to him.

He grabbed a little tighter, and that drew a reaction. A whimper?

The layers were getting in the way, Brandon gripped into the fabric and pulled, ripped…

The dress tore, and Brandon felt Ashara flinch again beneath him.

Brandon grabbed a teat again, harder. Did he leave a mark? He was not sure. Why was he…

There was a rip in Ashara's dress, and a tear in her eye, so Brandon lifted a hand to wipe it away. Ashara sniffled, cried, and turned her head away from his hand. Why did she turn away from Brandon's hand? Brandon felt angry.

He tried to press down, but somehow Brandon did not feel to steady all of a sudden. Ashara seemed to notice, for she suddenly pushed him. Why did Ashara push him?

Brandon stumbled backwards.

Pain! All there was, was agonizing pain.

Brandon crumbled down, the pain still there, Ashara had kneed him in the groin. Why had she…?

Ashara was gone, and the light from the tent flap was bright, and Brandon was on the floor and laughing and crying and screaming and…

Ned entered the tent as in a rage, Brandon felt punches to his face, kicks to his body, and a last punch to his face. His nose broke, and first everything was blinding white from the pain before everything was suddenly –

Brandon looked up at his brother as Brandon's gaze focused again. Ned was watching him through foggy grey eyes, through steel grey eyes, through foggy grey eyes...

Ned remained quiet, but after a second, he came over from his chair and helped Brandon up onto the bed. Ned stayed quiet.

"I am sorry", Brandon said. Brandon felt small, then, but he meant what he said.

"Why did you not say anything, Brandon?"

"Would it have helped anything?" Brandon chuckled mirthlessly.

"If you'd told me at the tourney? About Barbrey? I'd have helped you. You're my big brother."

A small sting returned, a sting of scorn. Yet Brandon kept from scoffing. Ned seemed to notice none the less.

"I know grief, brother. I helped Robert when his parents died. Well, I, drinks and women helped. So, at the tourney you would have had me, Robert, drinks and women. I also would not have been as disgusted with you for over a year, Bran."

Brandon felt the tears in his eyes. Why now? Had it really been that long? Ned had not called him Bran since the tourney.

"I am your brother. You can tell me everything. You know, I'd probably grow into a catatonic chunk of ice if Shara was lost to me. Family is there to catch us when we fall. I'll need you and father and Lya and Ben to keep me going if my Shara is ever gone from my life."

Ned plopped down on the bed next to Brandon, Ned's eyes lost somewhere in the distance on the wall not three meters away from the two brothers.

"What are you talking about, Ned? The two of you are getting wed, you will rule Winterfell together and grow old together. Don't patronize me."

"I'm not", Ned said, and Brandon turned to find his brother looking vulnerable in a way Brandon had not seen Ned before, "Shara is pregnant. I am terrified, Bran.

"What if she dies in childbirth?"

Brandon did not know what to say to that. Ashara was pregnant. Wait-

"I'll be an uncle?"

Brandon only noticed how incredulous he must have sounded by the way Ned started laughing. It did not seem like Ned could stop, and after a second Brandon started snorting, before the both of them laughed until their sides hurt.

"You'll be a great father, Ned."

Brandon could not say more. Women died in their own battles. Their own mother Lyarra had birthed Brandon and all his siblings healthily, only to die to a wasting sickness when Benjen was just four years old.

Still Brandon knew enough of enough women that died in the birthing bed. His friend Willem Dustin never knew his mother, for example.

Ned gave Brandon one of his kind smiles, the ones that warmed you like a hearth. Brandon had not received that smile for a long time. There was hope for their relationship to mend.

"Where do we stand, Ned?"

Without any specification Ned knew what Brandon was asking for.

"I cannot", Ned said softly, "and it is not my forgiveness to give, Bran. But I feel for you. Convince Shara of your sincerity, and you will be welcome in Winterfell when it is my time to rule.

"But do not worry, big brother. I have already been talking with father about your future. You will never have to fear the winter, you are part of the pack."

There was an earnestness to Ned's words that almost had Brandon shedding tears. Brandon did not look at his brother, for he knew his eyes were swimming.

"How do I go about earning Ashara's forgiveness, Ned?" Brandon asked quietly.

"You will have to ask Shara yourself, Bran. It is her you hurt the most"

Ned's answer did not inspire confidence in Brandon. His little brother apparently saw Brandon's despondency, for Brandon though he could hear his brother grinning.

"And I do not think yours to be a hopeless case, Brandon. After all, Shara was the one that sent me to check on you today."

Brandon must have looked ridiculous as he snapped around to look at Ned. The loud grin that Ned had worn turned into a deep-belly chuckle that made the bed move a little.

"It's true, Bran. Last night Shara and I found you tumbled off the bed when we turned in. You were mumbling and crying in your sleep, though we could not discern what came out of your lips. Aside from a steady stream of vomit, that is.

"I had to turn you on your side, just so you don't suffocate. Bran. You are lucky father was tipsy enough to forget to lock your door behind him when he brought you to bed. After I had propped you up, I had a guard posted by your door so you would not choke on your own bile.

"Yet Shara saw how anxious I was about you, so she sent me to check on you myself this morning."

Ned's face seemed warped by fondness then, and his eyes turned almost liquid silver.

"I cannot bring myself to request anything of Shara if it concerns you. Yet even as Shara hates you, she knows I love you, Bran. So, she sent me out on her own."

At that, Brandon's brother got up from the bed and left the room. Brandon remained for a long time, even though his hangover had cleared up during the talk already.

Just three days past Ashara's betrothal had been announced, and already they were breaking camp to venture North. To Winterfell.

It still felt unreal at times, becoming the Lady of Winterfell. Becoming the Queen of Winter. She, a Dornishwoman. Ashara had not imagined that kind of life for her, bound by duty to one place. But Ned would be with her, that part of had not changed.

Ashara still remembered lying under the stars at the God's Eye with Ned, dreaming of wonders far away. Vaes Dothrak. The Bells of Norvos and the Mazes of Lorath. The Godking's palace of Ib and the Shadow City of Nefer. Ashara would never see those places now. Well, maybe Lorath and Norvos, but a journey to Ibben or N'ghai would take Ashara and Ned too far from their demesne.

Not that Ashara wanted to go travelling right now. For a few days already she had spent every morning in the privy, with Ned holding her hair as Ashara vomited. Ashara might have disliked the taste of ale before, but now she downright loathed even the smell of it. And Ashara had never thought she could miss lemon cakes as much as she did now.

The idea to spend almost four weeks in a carriage was revolting. Just the thought of movement was nauseating, if Ashara was honest. At least Ashara had managed to convince her new betrothed and her new father that she was fit to ride as far as the Twins. Seven's sake, Dothraki women rode their horses until they went into labor!

Also, taking a wheelhouse from Riverrun would have necessitated following first the Riverroad and then the Kingsroad. That would not do, they had business to attend to at the Twins after all.

But, best of all, their party would finally split from him.Ashara could not wait for Brandon Stark to finally leave for the south, for Starfall.

Oh, how wroth Ashara had been when Ned had finally cracked yesterday. Her beloved had been a little lost in thought the morning after the feast, just after Ned had returned from his visit to Brandon.

The two days since it had always seemed as if Ned kept an eye on their door, at all times. Waiting. Expecting. Ned had confessed yesterday, waiting for Brandon. Waiting for Brandon to beg Ashara's forgiveness.

Never before had Ashara felt as angry with Ned. She had shouted and raged and scratched at Ned. How dare he, how dare Ned accept this?

At first, Ashara had thought that Brandon already had Ned's forgiveness. Ned had taken her slap without comment. Only when Ashara had voiced her fear, that all was good again between Ned and Brandon, did Ned look shocked. And then Ned had fallen to his knees, clutching to Ashara's legs. He had sworn her, Ned had sworn he had not forgiven Brandon. That Ned would stand behind Ashara in this, against Brandon, always.

And Ned had talked, talked like he did so well. Of hope. Of family. Of healing. Ashara had flinched at that, but Ned knew her. It was not gone. It never was. Just because Ashara had thought nothing of that day anymore, Ned had told Ashara that she still cried in her sleep at times.

Cried, just as she did while screamed at Ned yesterday. Cried, while Ned held her tight until she fell asleep.

Ashara had woken in Ned's embrace earlier, and for all she knew Ned was still asleep.

Ned had talked truths, yesterday. Not sense, but truths. Brandon would be in their lives a long time, and it would be difficult for Ashara to ignore Brandon forever. To ever move past her trauma, if Ashara ignored Brandon forever.

And Ned was truthful when he said he believed Brandon when Brandon had told Ned that Brandon was sorry. Sorry! As if that was it, as if Ashara had been waiting for Brandon Stark to feel sorry for assaulting her, for trying to rape her!

It only had made Ashara hate Brandon Stark again, and that after she had managed to stop remembering Brandon for so long.

Oh, Ashara was incensed, and there was only one person she was willing to take it out on.

Ashara had approached Rickard right after dawn, and after a fruitful talk Rickard had agreed to lend Ashara his most trusted guards. And now there Ashara stood, outside Brandon Stark's door.

Her hand trembled, and Ashara hated it. She did not knock, she decided against it. No, Ashara barged right in, Roland and Garth in her wake. The two guards took their position by the door. As Brandon's eyes fell on Ashara he looked pale like he had seen a ghost instead.

"You fucking coward!" Growled Ashara silently, and she was happy to detect steel in her own voice.

"Wha-"

"Shut up! I did not come here to talk with you, Brandon Stark, I came to talk to you! How dare you?! How dare you say you are sorry? You think that is it, you are sorry, and everything is alright again?!"

"No, Asha-"

"That's Lady Dayne to you, you do not have my permission to call me as if we were familiar!"

Ashara was already fuming, and crying, she noticed. Even as she had sworn just yesterday, promised herself, that Brandon Stark would never bring her to tears again.

"Lady Ashara, please, I know what I did was horrible, and I never-. With anyone-. That is, never before or after have I ever tried to-"

A shrill, cutting laugh escaped Ashara's throat, and Brandon flinched at that. Good. It was clear to Ashara what he wanted to say, but did he really believe – did he have the gall to believe – that it would in any way lessen his crime?

"What, Brandon Stark", Ashara bit out, "should I consider it an honor that I alone was able to drive you to use force to try and get into my skirts? Do you think I should care I would be the only one you almost raped?"

Brandon Stark crumbled at that, his eyes wide and his neck frozen in a shake.

"No, not at all, please, listen, I didn't-"

"No, Brandon, you don't! You do not think, you do not care! You are sorry, you were wrong, you know that, and you have forgiven yourself; is that it? You recognize your mistake, and so everyone else should recognize that is what you did? A mere mistake?"

Ashara was blazing, and for the first time she had seen it, Brandon looked chastised. It galled, and Ashara had to scream on,

"That's it, isn't it? That's exactly it! You have forgiven yourself! That's easy, right? It wasn't so difficult. After all, it's just sex. Everyone does it. You have definitely done it enough, right?

"'I don't think father wanted to give me advice on how to sweet talk girls, but he did. Remember? You get around enough, so doing it once should not be of consequence to anyone, should it? You disgust me, Brandon!"

At least Brandon remained silent at that. Ashara heard the guards shuffle behind her, but she did not care. Gods, Ashara had not imagined this confrontation to feel good.

"I wasn't scared just the once, Brandon, I was scared for months! If someone touched me from behind, I flinched. If a man so much as smiled at me, I felt sick. I could not sleep! I could not eat! I was scared of men I've known all my life, just because of you!

"And that's not even mentioning the thoughts that haunted me! What if? What if I had not managed to escape? What if you had managed to rape me? What if I had fallen pregnant, just because you raped me? What if? "

Brandon looked scared now, even. Timid. This? This man had scared her?

"But-. But I-. But you didn't-"

"No! Don't you dare, Brandon, don't you fucking dare! Did you ever think of that? How many Snows do you have running around? How many bastards elsewhere? Do you care to know? Twenty-three women at Harrenhal, that's how many you fucked before I kneed you in the groin, right?

"My mother died in childbed. Two sister I had, two sisters, that died in the womb. I asked Rickard, you know. I asked your father. Sarra. Donnor, Lonnel. Do you even know?"

Brandon only gaped like fish. Sevens was Brandon Stark pathetic. And ignorant.

"Sarra Stark. Stillborn. Your elder sister. Donnor and Lonnel Stark. Your twin brothers, a year younger than Ned. Born four moons early, one stillborn, the other dead within the hour. Rickard even told me where their unmarked graves in the godswood are located."

Stricken, that was what Brandon looked like. This was what Ashara had wanted to see. She kept her eyes on Brandon, not even blinking.

"How?" Brandon asked, after what seemed like an eternity. "How can I ever bring you to forgive me?"

There were tears swimming in his eyes now, but it was not in Ashara to ever feel remorse for Brandon Stark.

"You cannot."

It came out as a hiss. Poison and vitriol kept inside for more than a year.

"You cannot ever make me forgive you, Brandon. But for a start? See to it that you never forgive yourself! Maybe some day, then, I can see you as anything else but a rapist."

At that Ashara turned on her heel, not bothering to spare Ned's brother another glance. The two guards by the door recoiled at the thunder in Ashara's eyes, but they quickly fell in line behind her. Ashara felt all tension leave her body as the door fell shut behind her.

Ashara Dayne did not see Brandon Stark again their party split, and she was glad for it. As she broke for the Twins, high on her horse and straight-backed like never before, Ashara felt like a queen.

And that's a wrap.

An emotional write.
Hah, puns...

This scene was hard. I'm a little proud I brought it to paper at all.
Yet, I do not believe one can ever be satisfied in portraying such a scene properly.
I just do not think I could write it any better.

With that in mind, I am DYING for your thoughts.

Also, the next update is already written, so expect it in around a day.
It's 24 pages in word detailing factions, put together after a request by a reader over on AO3.
... I guess I went a little overboard with that.

Anyways, the main reason updating took so long is that I've been improving the earlier chapters.
Don't worry, nothing is actually rewritten. However, I was an amateur in formatting at the beginning. And pronouns.

What I mean, paragraph spacing up to chapter 10 as of yet has been reworked, and I've replaced tons of he/him/his/she/her/hers/etc. with the actual character names. And I've maybe improved a few sentences. I'll update the docs here today.

In short, there's no need for you guys to reread anything, as the story remains entirely unchanged.
As for new readers, well, lucky you(s).

'til next time,
IncognitoMe

Review responses

BadReader: I know, right? I do not believe anyone has ever purposely created mass inflation, but it would be fascinating. Scary, but fascinating! I do not know how much the poor will profit, though I can see new merchant princes rising. Then again, social prestige in much of Essos seems to be tied more to wealth than to blood. There will be social change, and maybe the continental wars in Essos and Westeros will influence each other, but the blowback to the Westerosi nobility will not happen in a long time. The mass inflation is too far, happens too fast and is too isolated. Also, Tywin still has more gold still…

chm01: …that was actually unconscious. Only noticed when you pointed it out. I'll just pretend I'm smarter than I am and that the name was intentionally planned.

Stonewolf: Thank you for the wonderful comment.

Guest: Thanks

-Black-Riddle-Malfoy: Thanks for the praise :D 'Shitting gold' just always reminded me of the tale of King Midas. I've seen the plot of drying mines often enough, and there's NO part of the books to confirm that. So, inverted. Cersei will be vastly different, as all characters are. We only see her in her youth through memories, and few things are more fickle. I highly doubt I'll ever stretch this AU to reach as far as the timeline of the books, but it isn't impossible. And hey, what is chaos except force applied without direction? Now, power is power. If it's nothing else, power IS chaos.

Second steps thE DUCK: Thanks for the capitalization. Glad I hit the mark.

00-night-eyes-00: Thanks, hope you enjoyed the new chappie.

biolaj1998: Here's my comment to your comment to my previous comment answer section (though not my first comment, DUH!) and yeah, I don't know what to connect onto this start of a sentence… ANYWAAAYS, glad you're enjoying my story and that you're pumped for magic's explosive exit (not sure if it'll feature many explosions, but at least one big one)! Stay tuned.

Glrasshopper: Thanks! And for the bulls, well, I mean, hmmm. Right, let's go rhinos, and Brandon can be the bull. So, Rhino-Ned and Rhino-Shara are going ballistic, and Bull-Brandon is traipsing around trying not to break more stuff, and trying not to get broken further by Rhino-Ned and Rhino-Shara. There. TOTALLY planned, I tell you. (I sincerely hope nobody ever tested the behavior of a rhino in china shop)

Max20.7: Glad the monologues are still within reason in the context of the story. And I mostly agree with your points about the Vale, getting the mountain clans to increase their insurgency is a good action for the Starks to take… at some point. There's a need to stabilize the status quo for Rickard after he achieved his goals. In canon, Robert failed to incorporate the loyalists after he won. Granted, there was a lot of other shit that went wrong during his reign. However, containing a civil war to the Vale would be a difficult endeavor, and the new order Rickard wants to establish would be vulnerable to domino effects or spill over from other conflicts. All new regimes have their growing pains, especially after coups. And hey, we know an envoy of the Sistermen is headed for House Stark, instead of House Arryn. That's already a fission point right there, and might become a delicate thing to handle ;)

kkeenergirl: Glad you like my story, and ecstatic the threads I wove came together for you at the point I intended. That's the way I want to manage my build up and pay off. As for the characters, I'm not promising anything. However, this chapter is the erstwhile conclusion for the Brandon/Ashara/Ned dynamic, and resets the board between them in a way. Take it as a new starting point, and see where it goes :D About the Others, I always planned to kill magic. The how was a question for me. I dislike altering the preexisting canon that is definitely known before the point of Rickard's almost burning. So, Maggy's prophecy was my point of contention, and one of the biggest obstacles for me. I did not want to treat it as if it did not exist, and I did not want to change the wording. In conclusion, I had to think of a way to make the prophecy retroactively redundant. That is where my death of magic storyline started. I know it has been done before (but then again, everything has been done before), however, I'm hoping my own twist on the story will keep you hooked. Stay tuned.

magnus374: Glad you like it, and yeah, it probably would not develop like that. But then again, even economists cannot predict what will happen accurately. They can research causes in hindsight. So, even if my scenario is very unlikely, I will be satisfied as long as it isn't impossible. I agree that I usually do not like the plotline of the "death of magic", but that is because it happens for the sake of the death of magic itself. Here I have used it as a necessity to negate Maggy's prophecy regarding Cersei's future. The prophecy is inherently magical, and I abhor altering the recorded canon for this story before Rickard's burning. Just saying "the prophecy became untrue because it did not fit my story" did not sit right with me. I also wanted to free my story from the constraint of the prince that was promised without denying the prophecy existed. Well. The death of magic was my solution to negate magical elements regarding the future because they are existential to ASOIAF. But in the same vein, the Others are existential, and I did not want to erase them lazily after I had put so much effort into properly eradicating prophecies. I have got a thematic purpose behind the Others' motivation that is a little more meta than the rest of this fic, but I have fallen in love with the plot line I've planned for them. I hope you will, too, once it's been resolved. For so long, continue to enjoy.

red demon161: Glad you found my fic, and happy you revel in chaos just as the rest of us here. The advantages for Tywin with flooding the gold markets in Volantis and Qarth are a) he's still got more gold in the vault than the rest combined and b) the growing unrest in Essos magnifies the effects of his actions around Slaver's Bay, all the while leaving other parts of Essos untouched for as long as Tywin restricts heavy outflow of gold by buying up ships. Plus, Tywin will recoup a lot of gold by selling of the last food reserves, as he alone KNOWS how much he can actually dictate prices. After the turmoil is over, the effect on the global gold market will be diluted as there are a lot of places where the gold can be divested from Volantis to Braavos and from Qarth off to Yi Ti. As for Lyanna, IF she willingly ran off with Rhaegar at the start, she is a lot more adherent to Sansa's dreams of courtly and true love than Arya. Arya is just too young in canon to even think of love and marriages. I'd wonder how Arya would have developed, too, if she wasn't forced to become a fugitive in a war-torn land and ended up as assassin-in-training and emotionally stunted.

Greatazuredragon: Thanks, dude (or dudette)! Imo economics is the most important aspects of most wars because the side that can outproduce the other will have an infinitely greater chance at winning in protracted campaigns. That is in traditional warfare, of course, guerilla wars play by different rules and if the resolution to the war can be achieved before the pre-war stockpile is used up, either side can take away victory. It has been a difficult balance, keeping Tywin as this looming balance while still giving him a greater speaking part in the story. I am happy you still feel awed by the Old Lion. I'll try to keep it up.

Dovack: Glad you enjoyed, but please do not take this thought exercise as a replacement for proper education in econ. I do believe my prof would tear this apart in seconds.

raw666: The thing is, Tywin knows where the excess gold around Volantis will flow into. Food. He'll destroy the majority of the harvest himself and then dictate prices for the rest. And arms. He's facilitating wars in the entire continent. And he's curbing naval trade by buying up ships, so the gold doesn't leave the two epicenters of inflation. At the end, he'll lose some gold, but he'll still have more, and he'll have diversified a lot into property in Qarth and Volantis. And hey, greater equality in Volantis due to slave revolts might increase property value outside of the old city. After all, the people living there ain't slaves no more. Plus, with the political assassinations, a more martial leadership will curb economic infrastructure investments by the Elephants. The plan you propose would maybe work better, but it cannot work fast. Also, Tywin does simply not possess the producing capacity to rival the Essosi cities. He could undersell products, simply not in bulk. And Tywin needs chaos in Essos soon, preferably before war in Westeros starts.

PraetorXyn: Glad my story caught your attention. I'd actually say we know little to judge how smart Ricky was, solely because we know how stupid Brandon actually was. I mean, Rickard's connections WERE successful in ousting the Targaryens. I find it hard to believe Aerys would have kept the throne long with Rhaegar dead, King Scab was way too big a liability even for the loyalists. After the Red Fork, Ned Bobby and Jon were in a great position to dictate terms, even if Tywin had not come to sack KL. As for the great maester conspiracy, I'm not saying it doesn't exist or they didn't kill a bunch of women in childbed (they ARE a sexist fraternity, after all) but I doubt you can lay the blame for the DoDs or the storming of the dragon pit at their feet. Just look at our history, ridiculous shit happens all the time. And Westeros is massive! Way too big to be held together by the type of feudal society within. As for how the maesters will feature here, well… you will see. No spoilers. I fully intend to keep Ned as the poet I've build him up as. That just means he will have very few speaking parts and lots of indirect compliments. I love Robb's Return, though I will have to see which road I follow. I'd hesitate to lean into the magical aspects too much for this story. The focus is different. I have got plans for most of my factions, and who does not love the Queen of Thorns? Everything is possible. On the same note, everything is still possible for the Tullys as well. As hinted here as well, in canon Hoster won the bank. He played kingmaker and bound two kingdoms to his family. Catelyn is a flawed character, yes, but she's a great flawed character. I dislike the AO3 app as well, for writing, though, the AO3 website, formatting and tagging system is way superior. A lot more comfortable to write on the computer as well.

Siriusly Grim: Glad to have caught your attention. Continue to enjoy.

Touhara Naoya: Glad you like it :)

mlkoolc86: Thanks for the heaps of praise. I hope I will do it justice in the future. My boy Vicky is very different from canon, but then again, he's not lost a war yet, his brother didn't sleep with his wife, he did not have to kill said wife after and his brothers and fathers are alive. So, yeah. He's different. Writing Brandon/Ashara/Ned is an exercise in nuances. It is a difficult topic, and I do not want to be callous about it. About Rickard's fear… like, my reason behind it is downright banal compared to all the emotional connections you readers see in it… I'd rather not spell it out in the comics, because trust me, it'll seem lackluster. If you're still interested (or anyone else here) send me a PM and I'll tell you the answer, as well as textual hints in the chapter. In hindsight you'll be like "Ooooh, yeah, right!... that's it?". I'll leave the decision to you. The Vale used to be, and might return to, the Kingdom of Mountain and Vale. Shella Whent swore House Whent to House Arryn, it's one of the first hints on the dividing lines Tywin, Rickard and Jon have for the Riverlands, as is Stevron Frey swearing to Rickard. The Mallisters haven't sworn fealty to Rickard. As of now, they're just pissed at the Tullys. You do not hear much from Jon in the political discussion because my character arc for him is centered around the foster-relationship he has with Ned and Bobby. He's competent, I just do not need his voice as he's in league with Rickard. Also, writing conversations with more than two people talking is HARD! I've got my plot for the Other's mapped out already, stay tuned for that. Also, THERE CAN NEVER BE ENOUGH FACTIONS! I do enjoy the internals of all the great houses, and the Lannisters are just a treasure trove for character and power dynamics. And I love my Ned and my Rickard, too! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter.

Moleluv: I actually like Catelyn in the story, mostly because of her flaws. Don't get me wrong, her political decisions are terrible. She is just vivid in her grief. And imo Arya's not the god-send some proclaim her for. I like her spunkiness, but she's a kid, Sansa's a kid, and kids make stupid decisions. Both Sansa and Arya did. As for Tyrion, yeah, he is alive. But, he's like, 8? Canon is unchanged before Rickard did not get burned, the rest is me filling blanks. Things that we definitely know I try to leave unchanged. I have noticed that I've failed three times at that so far, but whenever I find canonical errors in my work, I lay them out if I cannot fix them retroactively.

naia1: I did!

stylo1: Well, Hoster is a shitty dad, Rickard is not. Walder Frey is reaaally creepy, and definitely not the norm, even in the middle ages. In peace-time girls did not get married off THAT young, mortality rates for women in childbed were bad enough. 17-18 was more likely for girls to get wedded BY FAR.

Rake1810: Glad I've got you speechless. I agree on Cersei, too often she becomes the cut-out villain. Don't get me wrong, it's easy to make her into one, and she makes for a good one. But young Cersei? Damn, tons went wrong for her. Imo she seemed a lot like Lyanna, only that Tywin was a lot sterner and later neglectful with her.

arctic-kat: I'm so happy you found this story! It'll take some time before we see Benjen come up, and while I know where I want to take his story, I'm as of yet unsure of his voice. Well, we'll see. Continue to enjoy.

Alphapaladin: My point with Rhaelle is, Dunkan the Small broke his betrothal, Jaehaerys II broke his betrothal, Shaera broke his betrothal and Daeron broke his betrayal. All of Aegon V's children except Rhaelle did, and Rhaelle married Lyonel to pacify the Stormlands after their rebellion. And no, I doubt Robert would have been king, because Steffon Baratheon as king could never have married Cassana Estermont, and the crown prince of Robert's age would definitely not have been fostered out. Aegon V disinherited Dunkan the Small when Dunkan broke his betrothal, yet he did not follow his own precedent when Jaehaerys broke his AND Shaera's betrothals both. That in itself showed the Seven Kingdoms that Aegon did not hold his children accountable for their impunity. It would have been better if Aegon either reinstated Dunkan or named Rhaelle his heir, instead of the mess he left behind. Aside from that, glad you like my story :)

Ruki88: Yours has been the most polite question for updates I've seen so far, and I don't mind polite questions for updates. In fact, I'd encourage them over the ton of messages of "updatez?" Or "is blabla abandoned?" So, thanks to you for answering politely. As for why it's taken its time with the new chapter, I'm currently proofreading the entire story so far (typos, replacing pronouns, grammar, all that). I'm up to chapter ten, and I'll set about correcting those chapters here today. Next proper chapter will take some time, but I've got a faction breakdown I'll put up tomorrow.