Read. Enjoy. Review. (The reading and enjoying are for you, the reviews are for me!)
I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.
Well, you guys wanted some Jon Snow, so here he is ...
Chapter Sixty-Seven: This One's For You
Jon
His brothers had not wanted to believe him when he warned them that the wildlings were going to attack. They couldn't see the point, they couldn't understand why they would want to get south of the wall. To be fucking warm for once Jon had thought about yelling at them. But the last thing he needed to do was make a joke out of his warning. He could still remember one of his many conversations with Ygritte, she had made him see the Wall and the Night's Watch differently.
Growing up he had always believed that the Night's Watch was full of honorable men like his uncle Benjen, men that had given up their futures and their lives to guard the realm against whatever was behind the Wall. Wildlings, giants, wights, and the walkers if there were any left. He had believed all of Old Nan's stories about how horrible and dangerous the wildlings were.
His first assumption had been proven to be a disillusion on day one. There were honorable men in the Night's Watch, there was Benjen and Lord Commander Mormont, Maester Aemon, and even Sam when he wasn't being a craven, and so many more. But for every good, honorable man there was a criminal. A thief, a rapist, a murderer who had taken the Black not out of a sense of duty, but to keep his head attached to his shoulders.
Jon had never been so disappointed. Everyone had known what the Night's Watch was; his father, his uncle most of all and no one had told him the truth. No one except Tyrion Lannister.
Given the horrible truth of the Night's Watch, he shouldn't have been surprised when he met the wildlings and realized that they weren't the monsters Old Nan had made them out to be. They weren't some great threat ready to tear the realm apart. They were just like him, just like his friends. They were people. People with the blood of the First Men running through their veins, same as the Starks.
People who just happened to be too far north when Brandon Stark started to build the Wall. It was not their fault. And he could not blame them for wanting to move further south. He might even welcome it, except for the Thenns. They could freeze their asses off and die in that frozen waste land and Jon would have celebrated.
When he came back to the Wall after being held captive the brothers had not wanted to listen to his promise that the wildlings were coming. They thought it was a lie. The wildlings were made up of many different tribes, they had never been united. They would never be united.
You don't know the King Beyond the Wall, Jon had thought to himself. If there was one man who could unite the wildlings, it would be Mance Rayder.
But he had finally gotten them to listen to him. They finally started to prepare for a battle. And it had come, just as Jon had expected.
Though he had never in his wildest dreams expected it to come from both sides.
And he had never realized that it would cost him so much.
...
Two horn blows meant wildlings.
Jon wondered why they bothered to sound the alarm. Mance was burning the tree line and in the glow of the flames, even from the top of the wall, Jon could see the wildlings. All of them.
"Archers nock!" Allister Thorne ordered, his voice calm. "Every one else hold!"
Jon stood quietly behind him, waiting. He was no good with a bow and arrow and even if he was, he was a steward, and Thorne hated him. He would not want Jon to see any glory from this battle. Still, his sword hand clenched, reaching for Longclaw's pommel. The men on the Wall were his family, the only family he had left, but some of the men attacking the Wall were his friends. He couldn't help but wonder, if given the chance to fight, who he would fight for.
To Thorne's left one of the new Rangers tripped and knocked a barrel of torch fuel off the top of the wall. There was a pause, Jon winced, there would come a time, all too soon when they would need that barrel, and now it was lost.
"I said nock and hold, you cunts!" Thorne yelled at them. "Does nock mean draw?"
"No, Ser!" everyone on the top of the wall yelled, everyone save Jon.
"Does fucking hold mean fucking drop?"
"No, Ser!"
"Are you going to die here tonight?"
"No, Ser!" Jon finally added his voice to the others.
Thorne nodded, "That's very good to hear! Draw!"
Before he could order the archers to loose their arrows the horn sounded again, two more times for a wildling attack. Jon thought it was stupid, they already knew the wildlings were attacking, was the horn blower going to tell every five minutes throughout the entire battle? Still, he turned away from the fire on the North side of the Wall and he glanced south. It was too dark to see, but the men down below guarding Castle Black were firing flaming arrows on something - something attacking from the South.
He heard Thorne's whispered curse behind him.
A moment too late Janos Slynt ran from the elevator, "They're attacking the Southern gate!" he yelled.
"Now?" Thorne growled, glancing between the storm of arrows flying from the castle on the south and the large fire and larger group of wildlings to the north. Slynt nodded. Jon could practically hear Thorne's thoughts, he was trying to determine which was the greatest threat. There were more wildlings beyond the Wall, but they would have to get through it or over it before they became much of a problem. The smaller group south of the Wall, it would be easier for them to attack Castle Black and get inside. "I'm going down there!" he announced. "Brother Slynt, you have the Wall."
One man on the Wall is worth a thousand beneath it.
The archers on the Wall stood still and silent, arrows were nocked and drawn, but not released. They were waiting for the command that Slynt did not seem to realize he needed to give them. Thorne turned back around yelling, "What are you fucking waiting for? Loose!"
"You heard him!" Slynt yelled, finally finding his voice and his command. "Loose!"
The arrows flew.
...
The wildlings had no fear of death. And they had the numbers. For every man that fell there were five more to take his place. They were advancing on the Wall, teams with ropes to climb the Wall, a giant on a mammoth. Now that Thorne was no longer there to command him to command the men Janos Slynt was afraid. "No discipline. No training," he said, glancing around the men on the top of the Wall. For a moment Jon thought he was trying to be inspiring, that he was talking about the wildlings. But then he continued. "A gang of thieves, that's all this is. I commanded the City Watch of King's Landing, those men obeyed orders!"
He had no faith in his men. Jon wanted to point out to him that if he had been such a good commander of the City Watch, than Tyrion Lannister would not have sent him to the Wall. But now was no time to fight amongst themselves, not when the wildlings were attacking the gates. He stepped around Slynt, moving closer to the edge of the Wall. "We can't just let them attack the gates!" he shouted, hoping to anger Slynt into taking command again.
Slynt turned to look at him, "The bars of those gates are four inches of cold rolled steel," he told him, as if that would be enough to keep them out.
"Those are giants riding mammoths down there!" Jon pointed, as if they could not all see. The gate would not last long against them. "Do you think your cold rolled steel is going to stop them?"
Slynt shook his head, "Giants aren't real," he assured him, as if they could not all see them from where they stood. "They're only stories used to frighten children."
Grenn watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowed before he turned and walked quickly toward the elevator. For a moment Jon thought that he was going to abandon them, but he should have known better. A second later Grenn was back, "Brother Slynt," he called out, his voice loud and strong. "Ser Allister says that he needs you down below. You're the most experienced man he's got. He says he needs you!"
"Needed below?" Slynt asked. He didn't look at Jon. "Yes," he nodded already turning to run toward the elevator. "Yes." And then he was gone.
Grenn and Edd smiled at him, Grenn nodded and winked. The men on top of the Wall were silent, they all looked to Jon. And then Jon realized the reason behind Grenn's lie. They meant for him to command them. He took a deep breath, thinking about his father and what he would do. "Archers," he called out, his voice did not shake. "Nock your arrows!" They nocked their arrows. "Draw! Loose!"
He had made his decision. He knew who he would fight for.
He had always known.
He was not the boy he used to be, mistreated and ignored by Lady Catelyn, wishing for nothing more than to be anything but a bastard.
He was not the naive recruit who had showed up at the Wall expecting the men to be strong, brave, and honorable.
He was not the man who had traveled with the wildlings; breaking bread with them, sharing stories, laying with one of their women.
He was Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch. And his brothers on the Wall had trusted him with their lives. He would do everything he could to make sure they lived to see the sun rise the next morning.
No matter what the cost.
...
And it had cost him. It had cost him so much.
Thirty men from the Night's Watch. Pyp and Grenn among them.
He felt those two worse than the others. And not just because they were his friends. Pyp had been shot by Ygritte, that death was on him. And Grenn, he had sent Grenn down to hold the gate against the giant. That death was on him as well.
And then there was her, Ygritte, he was sure that she wouldn't have killed him. But he would never know now, Olly had killed her. To protect him. That death was on him as well.
And for what?
They had a thousand wildling prisoners, Tormund and Mance among them. And a castle full of Stannis Baratheon's men.
The rest of Mance's wildlings, the ones who were neither captured nor dead had scattered, separating into their tribes, running from the Wall, just as Jon had known they would.
When Stannis and his men arrived at Mance's camp, having ridden all night from Eastwatch By the Sea, Jon had thought that he would kill Mance right there in the woods. He had thought it mercy when Stannis had brought him back to Castle Black, but as he stood with his brothers now, facing a stake in the middle of the courtyard he knew it was not mercy.
Stannis wanted the Free Folk. He wanted them to fight for him. And for that he needed Mance, their king, to kneel.
Mance Rayder was not the sort of man to bend the knee, especially to Stannis Baratheon. And for that he would die.
Traitors were not burned to death, not since the Mad King, but Stannis Baratheon worshiped a fire god. And Mance would be killed with flames.
It was eerily silent when the prisoner king was brought before the Baratheon king. "Mance Rayder," Stannis greeted him, his voice flat and emotionless. "You have been called the King Beyond the Wall. But there can only be one true King. Bend the knee and I will show you mercy."
Bend the knee, Jon willed him. He had spent months as Mance's prisoner. He liked the man, he respected him, he had learned a great deal from him. No man deserved to be burned to death in front of what was left of his army, but especially not Mance.
But Mance was stubborn and his knee would not bend. "Kneel and live," Stannis urged him when he remained silent.
Mance took a step away from him, glancing around the courtyard, his gaze landing on the Black Brothers, he recognized some of them, Jon could see it in his dark eyes. "This was my home for many years," he told Stannis, his voice thoughtful and calm. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."
And with that he turned away from Mance, waiting for the soldiers to bring him to the stake and chain him to it. Once they were done the strange foreign woman who traveled with Stannis stepped forward, the men had started calling her the Red Woman. A shiver ran up Jon's spine. "We all must choose," she started, addressing the wildlings and the Night's Watch instead of Mance. "Young or old, man or woman, Lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light, or we choose darkness. We choose good, or we choose evil. We choose the true God, or the false." She turned, grabbing a torch from one of the guards, when she spoke again, it was to the wildlings only, "Free folk, there is only one true king and his name is Stannis. Here stands your king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness."
And then she brought her torch to the wood at Mance's feet.
Jon watched as the flames rose, slowly and quickly all at once. On moment it looked like it would take an hour for the flames to take, and the next they were licking Mance's boots. He tried to be strong, his men were watching. But even the strongest man can only stay silent for so long. As the flames began to burn through his clothes he began to whimper. His whimpers became moans. Soon his moans would turn to screams.
This was not why Jon had fought to protect Castle Black. This was not what he had lost so many friends for. This is not what the Night's Watch stood for. When they swore their vows each Black Brother promised to stay neutral to the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms. It felt wrong enough to have Stannis at Castle Black, but standing and watching while one King burned another alive did not feel neutral to Jon.
And it did not feel right.
Jon had gone with his Father when he had to execute someone enough times to know that Ned Stark did his duty with strength, and speed, and honor. He did not enjoy it. Mance would burn for hours, and Stannis would have them all watch the entire thing. He was watching now, his eyes never leaving Mance's face.
But Jon would not watch. And he would not leave Mance to suffer or to die screaming in front of his men and enemies. He pushed past his brothers, heading toward where they had stockpiled their weapons after the battle. And with everyone's eyes on Mance, no one saw as he picked up a bow, nocked an arrow, or loosed it. But they all saw it when it struck Mance in the chest, killing him.
And they all knew where it came from.
Both sides had lost many good men. And if this was how it was going to end, Jon wasn't sure if it was worth it.
Any of it.
-.-.-.-.-
Jamie
This was occurring much too frequently for his liking. He wondered how many more times he would have to stand guard over the body of one of his loved ones. He wondered how many more times he would have to stare at the stones that covered their eyes and wish that they were painted in another color. Green rather than blue. He wondered how many times he would be left alone in the Great Sept standing watch over someone he knew with the stench of their rotting flesh in his nose.
Joffrey had been easier than he expected. He had never spent much time with the boy, he had never been inclined to, and even if he had Cersei would never have allowed it. If Jaime spent too much time with Joffrey, someone might have figured it out. She wouldn't have risked it. She barely let the boy near Robert, lest someone question why Joffrey had none of the king's coloring. And so, guarding Joffrey had been much like guarding a near stranger, someone he recognized, but did not know. He felt sorry for the boy, killed so young, but he was not saddened by the death.
Tywin was harder. Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King was no stranger to Jaime. He was his father, a hard cruel man who Jaime had not always agreed with, but family still. He could not guard his body with quiet disinterest. He could not keep his distance. He stared at Tywin, equal parts hating and loving the man. And always knowing that it was Jaime who was to blame for his death.
He hated Tywin for his harshness. He could not remember a time when Tywin had looked at him with kindness or love. Tywin had children because he needed them, not because he wanted them. He took an interest in Jaime when he was a child because Jaime was to be his heir. He turned his back on his son when he joined the King's Guard. He had ordered the death of his granddaughter's husband before her very eyes. He had watched Joffrey's funeral without blinking. He had sentenced his youngest son to death without a moment's hesitation. Jaime would not miss this man.
But he would miss the one he could barely remember. The one who smiled softly at Jaime's mother before she died. The one who sat him on his first pony. He would miss the man who had been softened by Lenora when she lived at the Rock. He could remember him, sitting in his solar with the small girl on his lap, planning imaginary battles and teaching her how to be strong. He would miss the man who went to war because Catelyn Stark kidnapped Tyrion. He would miss the man who would do anything for his family.
But the two men went hand in hand. Jaime could not have one without the other. And as he stood, staring at his father's face, so very much like his own, he realized that all the things he loved about his father were tied with the ones he hated. He had loved Lenora because she was clever and bright and because she worshipped him, and because he could use her for alliances. He had gone to war for Tyrion because Catelyn's kidnapping had been a slight on House Lannister. He would do anything for his family, including murdering his grandchild's husband. And he would leave her in the North because it was not worth the risk to send men after her.
All his life he had felt Tywin Lannister judging him. All his life he had come up wanting. But now he was free of it. Tywin could judge him no more. And Jaime would not have to spend the rest of his life trying to please his father. They were both free.
The bells of the Great Sept were ringing, they pulled Jaime from his thoughts. The funeral would begin soon. But no one had entered yet. He wondered what they were all waiting for. He knew that Tommen was not coming to the funeral, so they could not have been waiting on the king.
The doors opened, he did not turn because it was not many people entering the Sept. Only one.
Cersei.
He stood, silent and still, matching his breath with each of her slow, purposeful steps. It took her almost two minutes to reach where he stood in the middle of the floor. Finally she was standing beside him. She did not look at him, her green eyes remained resolutely on their father's face. "He never wanted you to be a King's Guard," she growled at him, "and yet here you stand, protecting his dead body."
It would seem he was not yet free from judgement, it had simply moved from one Lannister to the next. Unbidden his mind went to the last time he and his sister had stood side by side in the sept. They had been with Joffrey then. She had tried to kiss him. He took a small step away from her, putting distance between them. She was saddened by their father's death, angry even, he could feel it radiating off of her. And when Cersei was angry she lashed out, like a caged lion. If he was not careful she would strike him.
And Jaime was not a careful man. He took a deep breath, "He spent his whole life worried about the legacy of House Lannister," he whispered. "He built it. And he meant it for us. All that to die in a privy. Who will carry on his legacy now?" He glanced toward the doors. "That's what they're all waiting for," he told her. "All of them of them out there. Vultures. They want to see the stones on his eyes, they want to know that he is truly dead. And then they will pick at the Rock and the West like vultures to a carcass."
"And whose fault is that?" Cersei asked him, finally turning from their father's face to fix her green-eyed glare on him. "Who created that carcass?" Jaime did not answer. Me, he thought. "Tyrion is a monster," Cersei hissed at him. "I've been telling you for years and for years you have been defending him, protecting him, siding with him when you should have sided with me!"
"Tyrion is no mons-" Jaime started but she interrupted him.
"Our father is dead!" Cersei growled at him. "And that horrible creature is out there somewhere in the world, drawing breath, a free man." She took a step closer to him and Jaime knew in that very instant that he did not need to worry about Cersei trying to kiss him by their father's body. Though, she might try to kill him. "Did you set him free?" she whispered.
It was question, at least it was phrased as one. But the fire burning in her green eyes and the clench in her jaw told him that she already knew the answer. He wanted to look away from her, he wanted to hide from the betrayal in her eyes but he looked her straight on and answered. "Tyrion was innocent of Joffrey's murder," he told his sister. "I could not let him die for it."
"So you set him free so that he could murder Father?" Cersei bit out. Her voice was hard and cold. It sounded so much like Tywin that Jaime winced. He shook his head, he had not meant for Tyrion to kill their father, but he should have known. If there was one thing Lannisters knew how to do it was to get vengeance. Lannisters always paid their debts. And Tyrion had owed his father a debt. I should have put him on the boat myself, Jaime realized. I should have gone with him.
It was as if Cersei could read his mind, as if she could see his thoughts playing across his face. She scoffed, "Tyrion may be a monster, but at least he killed our father on purpose. You killed him by accident, by stupidity." She shook he head. "You're a man of action," she told him. "It was what I always admired and hated about you. When it occurs to you to do something, you do it, never mind the consequences. You push a boy out a window, you make a promise to Catelyn Stark you have no right to make, you free Tyrion." She turned away from him, nodding toward their father's body. "Well, take a look, here are your consequences."
She was walking away from him when she paused, "You wanted to know what will happen to Father's legacy," she told him, almost as if it were an after thought. "Uncle Kevan has looked into his will. He would have left the Rock to Tommen, if Joffrey had survived, but Tommen is king now."
"I suppose it goes to Kevan now," Jaime answered softly. "A little old to be inheriting the Rock. But Lancel will be a lucky young man."
"No," Cersei interrupted him. "It does not go to Kevan. Or Lancel. It goes to Lenora's first born son. You see, our father had plans, even when it came to his death. He had planned for the monster to have gotten Sansa pregnant, a Lannister grandchild ruling the North. Lenora's child ruling the West. And Tommen on the throne. We've lost Sansa, the only thing I would give Tyrion is a sword through the neck. And Lenora is held captive in the North."
"Did he have any plans to get her back?" Jaime asked. He had asked his father about her on many occasions, but if Tywin had any plans for Lenora, he had not shared them with his son.
"Not that he shared with me," Cersei told him. "But you will." Jaime raised his eyebrows, unsure of what his sister expected of him. "I'm relieving you of your duty as King's Guard," Cersei told him, not even deigning to look at him. "You will leave within three days. You will not return to King's Landing until you have retrieved my daughter. And then you will go after Tyrion."
"And if I don't succeed?" Jaime asked her, thinking about his golden hand and his weak left hand.
"You better die trying," Cersei told him. "If you return without my daughter, I will hold you personally responsible for Father's death." She turned finally, her gaze dropping to his golden hand. "How do you think you would fare in a trial by combat, brother?"
Not well, and they both knew it.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
"How are you, my lady?" Ramsay sneered in her ear. "You told my mother that you wished to ride out into the Wolf's Wood." He was laughing at her now, she could feel it rumbling in his chest that was pressed so close to her back. She could hear it in his voice, in the way he sneered at her as if they were playing some sort of game. "Is this ride everything you thought it would be? Everything you wanted?"
No. The word came to her lips readily, almost bursting out. But she bit her tongue. She could not let him see how upset she was. How disgusted she was by what she had seen. By what he had done. By what she had played a part in if only because she had been unable to stop it.
She was riding sidesaddle, squeezed in front of Ramsay, his arms framing her body as if he cared whether she fell from the horse. Not that she had not tried. But Ramsay, it seemed, always thought of everything, he always seemed to be one step ahead of her. Her ankles were still shackled. And he had tied her wrists to the saddle horn. If she were stupid enough to try to throw herself out of the saddle she would have only hung from the saddle horn, at risk of being kicked by the horse's legs until he hauled her back up.
She had wanted a ride in the Wolf's Wood and Ramsay had given it to her. Though, he was not about to risk losing her over it.
He leaned closer to her, his chin resting on her shoulder. He was smiling, "It's a lovely day for a hunt, my lady," he told her, turning his pale blue eyes on her. "Wouldn't you say?"
She could hear the girl. Wherever she was in the woods, she was close. She was screaming, each wail pierced Lenora's heart in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. The poor girl was begging for help, for death, for the Old Gods, or the New. And she was never going to get any of it. She would not be able to outrun Ramsay and his men. Or his dogs. He was not going to grant her a quick death. He liked to play with his toys, and he would get double the pleasure out of this one. He'd get to torture the girl, and he'd get to torture Lenora by forcing her to watch it, to play an unasked for part.
He sighed, as if he had never been more content in his life. "The woods sound lovely don't they?" he asked her as the horse charged through the woods, the dogs were leading the way, barking and growling as they followed the poor girl's trail.
"Why are you doing this?" Lenora asked him, her voice a cold whisper as she turned away from the open woods in front of her to look at Ramsay. "Why?"
He smiled, "It's for you, my lady," he told her. "This whole time, since the Frey wedding you've been kept indoors. I thought that you would appreciate some time in the open air, a ride through the woods, a hunt. You've never been on a hunt have you?" He chuckled as he looked away from her, his blue eyes sparkling, "There's nothing like it," he promised. "Absolutely nothing. The dogs, the weapon in your hand, knowing that you are the only thing that stands between killing the beast and it living another day. The smell of the blood in the air, the fear in the animal's eyes. The way the light leaves the eyes at the last moment as the dogs tear into its flesh."
Lenora flinched away from him. She had always known that Ramsay was cruel, she had known that from the first. But this was something she could not understand, a cruelty she could not imagine. He was talking about the young, terrified woman they were following as if she were an animal. As if it were acceptable to ride her down, to hunt her as she ran through the cold woods in nothing but her shift.
"You're horrible," she whispered.
He chuckled, he had heard that. "Not as horrible as you, my lady," he promised her. "The last shot will be yours." She shook her head, she wouldn't do it. He could beat her all he wanted, she would not kill the girl. "It will be," he promised her again. "I promise you, Princess, it will be much worse for the girl if she dies by my hand."
Lenora shook her head, unable to do much more than that. Ramsay's chuckle got louder, darker. "You're caught in quite a predicament aren't you, Princess?" he asked, taunting her. "When we find the girl you have two difficult choices. First: shoot to wound, not to kill - you won't be the one to kill her, but it will be much worse when the dogs get their chance at her. Second: Kill her in one. She won't feel the dogs, but you'll have been the one to kill an innocent girl." She couldn't see him, but she could feel the way he shook his head behind her. "Whatever will you do?" he whispered, close to her ear.
"I could kill you," Lenora whispered, leaning forward to get as far away from the man as she could. "Kill you, grab the girl, and run away."
"And how are you going to do that, my lady?" he asked her, the laughter still coloring his tone. "I'm not carrying a sword or a dagger you could grab. And do you think you're in any position to turn around and shoot me from where you sit?"
He had a point. "How will I shoot the girl with my hands tied to the saddle?" she asked him, turning her head slightly to catch his eye. He might have had a point, but so did she.
"I'll untie you for that," he assured her. He leaned closer to her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his tongue flitting out between his lips to lick along the outside shell of her ear. "I don't think I need to remind you what will happen to you if you try to escape, my lady," he told her, grinning as she shuddered underneath his breath. He nodded, his pale blue eyes locked on her face, "You'll be a good girl," he told her, very certain of himself. "Because you know that whatever you think of doing to me I can think of something much worse for you." He was smirking at her, his eyes sparkling in excitement.
Lenora drew a shallow, shuddering breath. As much as she wanted him to believe that she was brave, that she wasn't afraid of him. It was impossible not to hear the unspoken delight in his words. He could think of something much worse than anything she could plan for him. And what was worse was that he would enjoy it. He would hurt her, torture her, try to destroy her and he would love every second of it.
She opened her mouth, to tell him that he was disgusting, but then she heard it. It started low, an angry rumble that she could feel running up her spine. A snarl that she could hear just above the wind blowing through the trees around them, just below the nervous yapping of Ramsay's dogs. "Did you hear that?" she asked, whipping her head around to glance at Ramsay.
"What?" he asked her. His smirk still rested on his lips, but he didn't look as confident as he had before. Something about her face or her question had unsettled him. "Did I hear what?"
She heard it again, louder, closer but from another direction. Her hair flew into her face as she turned away from the wind and turned to look to her left, her eyes narrowed as she studied the tress around them, looking for it. "It's a wolf."
Ramsay chuckled, though she saw his hand tighten on the reins in front of her. "And I'm supposed to be afraid of a wolf?" he asked her. "With all my dogs and men and a wounded girl out here? I should be worried that a lone wolf with single me out?"
"You should be worried about this one," Lenora promised him as the dogs began to panic. They were no longer tracking the girl, they no longer cared for the smell of her blood. They were yelping and whining. Noisily turning to their master for orders. She doubted that any of the dogs could see the wolf, but they could sense him, she wondered if they could smell him. She wondered if they knew they were no longer the hunters, but rather the hunted.
"And why is that, Princess?" Ramsay sneered.
"Because it's a direwolf."
"There are no more direwolves," Ramsay told her, his voice shaking slightly.
"Wager your life on it?" Lenora asked, her head quickly turning from side to side as she looked for the growling wolf. Her heartbeat picked up, it felt as if her heart was throwing itself against her ribs, trying to break free from her chest. A strange mix of fear and excitement coursed through her blood as the growl changed into a howl, echoing through the trees. She knew that howl. She recognized it. "Grey Wind," she whispered.
"Robb Stark's dog?" Ramsay asked her. "He's dead."
Lenora shook her head, the right corner of her lips lifting into a smirk when she caught a single flash of grey moving through the trees to her left. The dogs moved closer to the horses and Ramsay's men, they knew something was out there now. They were afraid. "You forget, bastard," Lenora breathed quietly, "I have run with direwolves long enough to know the sound of their songs. And this one is for you."
His arms shook as he tightened his grip on the reins. The horse reared slightly onto its back legs, trying to throw its riders off. But Lenora was tied to the saddle and Ramsay was not going to let go of the reins. He turned the horse, back towards Winterfell and its high stone walls. "Forget the girl," he ordered his men, already nudging his horse into a gallop. "Stay here, round up the dogs, I shall see you back at the keep when you're finished."
And then he kicked the horse in the ribs, cruelly guiding it into a gallop.
"You're a coward," Lenora told him as the wolf in the woods behind them started its attack. She could not turn, and Ramsay's frightened horse had already put quite a bit of distance between his men and the two of them, but she could still hear that first human cry of fear as the wolf jumped. And the sudden silence when the man's throat was torn out.
Even in his fear Ramsay was unable to hide his pride. She felt him bristle behind her, felt him sit up a bit straighter. He did not appreciate being called a coward. "But I'm alive," he told her. "And I will take alive over brave any day."
"Robb would never have run," Lenora told him. It did not hurt as much to say his name now. Something about the wolf in the woods had given her just the smallest bit of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"And he is dead now," Ramsay argued, kicking his horse again, it cried out in pain, but began to run even faster. A reckless, dangerous pace that left even Lenora feeling a bit winded. "So standing his ground did him a damn lot of good."
...
Ramsay lost eight men, half of his dogs, and the girl he had meant to hunt. The rest of the dogs had come tearing toward Winterfell as if the Others themselves were chasing them, the remaining men tripping over themselves as they followed. In the days since the wolf attack the men had begun to question their memories. They were no longer certain what had attacked them. They whispered the word direwolf, but no one would swear to it.
All the same Lord Bolton ordered the gates to be shut at all times. The Wolf's Wood was off limits. Lenora was no longer allowed outside, she was to be kept inside the keep for her safety.
But that did not stop her from hearing the howls. Every night she sat in her chamber, the windows thrown open despite the cold northern air so that she could listen as the wolf moved around Winterfell's walls, looking for a way in.
She had been so certain in the woods that the howls had belonged to Grey Wind. And now, days later, she was no less certain. She had spent so much time listening to the wolf during battles. She knew the way his call would echo in her bones, the quickening beat of her heart was familiar.
It did not make any sense though. She had heard from the Bolton soldiers that they had killed Grey Wind when they killed Robb. She had heard that they had decapitated the wolf and sewed his head onto Robb's body. She had heard that they had paraded their monstrosity around all night as if it were something to be proud of.
Ramsay had taunted her with the idea for months, his eyes sparkling with joy as he explained to her how difficult it must have been to sew the large wolf head onto her husband's neck. Was he lying? Were the men? Or was she so desperate for hope that she was making a direwolf out of a regular one with an irregular bloodlust?
She could hear it again, rising over the wind, a long unending mournful noise. Whatever it was, wolf or direwolf it was alone, and looking for something. Lenora's hands clenched when she thought that perhaps it might be looking for her, searching for her. Robb had once told her that a wolf's howls had different meanings. She had never heard Grey Wind howling for his brothers and sister's, but if she had she was sure that it would have sounded like this.
Grey Wind had long since lost his direwolf pack, the loss of his human pack was closer, newer. What if he had followed her to Winterfell from the Twins? She wanted it so badly that she had to remind herself that it was unlikely. She wanted Grey Wind to be alive because that meant that there was a small chance that Robb had survived as well.
But as much as she wanted it she would not allow herself to get her own hopes up. Even if Robb had survived, most of his men were dead, and the northmen that were still alive had sworn loyalty to the Boltons. It was unlikely that he was alive, and even less likely that he would be able to do anything to help her.
But still, as the wolf howled in the woods outside Winterfell's walls Lenora could not help but feel less alone.
...
"A word, my lady?" a voice sounded from behind Lenora as she made her way toward the library tower. Lord Bolton had finally lifted his command about keeping her inside. She was allowed out in the courtyard during the daylight hours as long as she had an armed escort.
She turned now to see Lord Bolton himself standing in the courtyard behind her. Snow flakes clung to the collar of his fur cloak and Lenora felt her chest tighten as she thought of all the times she had heard Robb remind a man that winter is coming. He had been right, all the Starks were. Winter was coming, and she was alone. She arched an eyebrow at the older man as she nodded, "Lord Bolton," she greeted, her voice as cold as the winter air. "What do you want?"
His jaw clenched, displeased with her impolite question, but it was the best Lenora could offer and he seemed to understand that. He took a step closer to her. "It would appear that I have some bad news for you, my lady," he told her, his voice whisper soft.
She felt both eyebrows lift at that, "And you're to be the one to tell me?" she asked, surprised. "The last time you had bad news for me you let your bastard tell me. He seemed to enjoy trying to make me suffer." She shrugged her shoulder, "It was a pity for him, really, that the news of Joffrey's death did not upset me as much as I think he had hoped."
Bolton's jaw clenched again at the word bastard, he liked that even less than he had liked her rude greeting. "My son, wanted to give you the news as soon as we received the raven. But I told him that it would be best to come from me. You've already lost so many father figures in your short life, I thought this news should come from one of the few you have remaining."
Lenora would have scoffed at Lord Bolton's assumption that he was anything that resembled a father figure to her, but his words caught up to her before she could. You've already lost so many father figures in your short life. She took that to mean that she had lost another one. In three quick steps she moved to stand directly in front of Roose, her hands reached out, clutching at his arm, her fingernails digging through the thick fabric of his doublet. She would have drawn blood if she could have reached his skin. "Jaime?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Her heart stopped beating as she waited for his answer. She barely managed to draw in breath. She was certain that she could handle anything that Ramsay wanted to do to her, but she knew that she would be unable to continue on if she learned that something had happened to her uncle. She had still been so angry the last time she had seen him, but he was one of the few people she had left now. She would sooner kill herself than live in a wolrd where he was no longer there. "Has something happened to my uncle Jaime?"
Roose glared down at her, his pale blue eyes filled with distaste as he pulled his arm out of her grasp. "Your king slaying uncle is alive," he assured her. "I sent him on to King's Landing myself well before the Frey wedding at the Twins. He is safely returned to your family, you have my word."
His statement surprised Lenora. As long as she had known Roose Bolton he had been cruel, but proper. He had never called her uncle Kingslayer, he still called her princess. She knew that his words, king slaying uncle, were meant to hurt her, to remind her of everything her uncle was. But it did something else too, the reminder of the Frey wedding. She took a step away from him now, relaxing a bit now that she knew that her uncle was safe. "You know," she told him, looking away as if the conversation bored her, but watching the older man out of the corner of her eye. "There was a time when every man in the Seven Kingdoms wanted to be like my uncle, but you, Lord Bolton, have come the closest."
"And how is that, my lady?" Roose asked her, his eyebrows arched.
She shrugged her shoulders as she allowed her gaze to land on his face, "You both killed your king. You have earned the name Kingslayer as much as he has, perhaps even more so."
His jaw clenched, his eyes hardened. If he had felt any goodwill toward her when he began this conversation he did not feel it now. "You're uncle Tyrion was found guilty for your brother's murder after a trial by combat," he told her, his voice cold. "The night before he was to be executed he escaped and killed your grandfather before he disappeared from King's Landing."
That gave Lenora pause. Of all the possible outcomes from Joffrey's death, she would have never imagined this. Roose seemed to take her silence to mean something different. He sighed, "If you were hoping that your grandfather would ride north and take you from us, I would put that hope to rest, my lady."
Lenora shook her head, she had not thought that since the beginning. She would have been stupid to hope for it, even more stupid than hoping that Grey Wind and Robb might still be alive. "My grandfather was not a stupid man," she told him. Her voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears. "He would have known that you took me north after the wedding at the Twins. He would have guessed Winterfell. I gave up hope that he would come for me a long time ago."
Roose nodded, pleased with her answer. He turned, preparing to walk back toward the main keep, but Lenora stopped him when she continued speaking. "If I want to escape, I will have to find a way on my own."
Author's Note:
Hello friends! It feels good to be back. Even if this chapter was a bit of a filler chapter. It's setting up for some things, and as much as I hate filler chapters, I have to admit that they are a necessary evil.
And I'm not sure how I feel about Jon's part. I love him and I've been waiting to bring him back into the story, but I don't know if I have a good command of his voice yet. What do you think? Any helpful advice? I'd love to hear it if you have any!
Anyway, regardless of how I feel about this chapter ... how do you feel? I hope you loved it! Or at least liked it! Do me a favor and drop down to that empty box down there and let me know! Reviews are your best bet to get me to update faster so ... go crazy!
Thank you for stopping by and reading. Thank you for adding this story to your alerts and favorites lists! And most of all, thank you to the wonderful beings who have reviewed on the previous chapters. You guys are my favorites! And as always, this update is for you.
Choco-Latte64: Oh my gosh! I AM WRITING ABOUT CAPTAIN AMERICA! (Or specifically Bucky, because I love broken bad boys with a heart of gold, and that's all the Winter Soldier is.) I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and cried with happiness when Tyrion set off North, happy tears are something I very rarely get with this story so it's a welcome change.
RHatch89: Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. Roose is very easy to hate, though I do enjoy playing with both him and his son (as evidenced by this update ...).
Spidey-phd: Thank you so much for your review, my new review friend! I'll admit that I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that I write about a sadistic psychopath so convincingly. I feel like I should be worried. But I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it!
HPuni101: Yes, things are going to start looking up for Lenora very soon. Within the next five or so chapters I think, though don't quote me on that. But first, things are going to get just a bit worse. Thank you so much for your review!
Guest1995: Tyrion and Gendry. I'm really excited about them. Because they're the two characters that are like, least likely to be together. And I've been waiting for their road trip North for a while. And you can safely bet that he's going to meet Lenora. That's the whole reason I had Tyrion walk into his shop after all. Don't worry, there will be hope for Lenora soon, but first ... a wedding.
taterbug0491: I hated how Robb died too. And then to have the characters just kind of forget him. I mean, I get that they've got a lot to cover in a short span of episodes. But they could have had one scene with any of the Stark siblings talking about him. He started a war for them after all. I'm shaking my head because he deserved better. And this story's going to give that to him.
Janaoliver: In the grand scheme of things a Robb and Lenora reunion won't be too far away. But I'd say it's another ten chapters or so. Thank you for your review!
JaxAndCharlieTeller: I've got to play with your heartstrings somehow, after all. Her finding that Robb had saved all of her letters seemed like a great way to do it. I love when my fandoms unite! And yes, the next story I tackle will be a Bucky/OC story. You're completely right though ... the Battle of the Bastards is by far the best episode I have seen. And I'm sincerely hoping that I do it justice when I try to tackle it in only a few short(ish) chapters.
You were right ... Grey Wind is out there. And now Lenora knows it.
The Red Wedding broke me too. Actually that episode was the one that got my mind running down this long road. I think I wrote my first draft of the first chapter the morning after the Red Wedding. I hated it, and I needed to fix it. I was a bit obsessive about it really.
Stevie Jazz: CAPTAIN AMERICA! (And yes ... Bucky, of course Bucky.) I'm glad you're here for it! I'm glad you're happy about Sansa, there's always a lot of Sansa hate and while I understand it to an extent, I kind of love her (not as much as Arya, but she's up there) and I needed to get her away from Littlefinger as quickly as I could. I didn't like her there! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
bellaphant: I'm so glad that you're excited about Gendry. I adore him. I think he's wonderful and I want him and Arya to go on adventures all over the Seven Kingdoms together. And the show left him rowing for too damn long. And I wanted him and Tyrion to roadtrip. And I wanted him to meet his older sister. And I want so much for him, so I'm really glad you guys are on board!
Guest 4.0: Soon, my friend. Lenora will see Jon Snow again very soon. Think within the next five chapters or so.
Padfootette: Thank you! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you like this update too. It's going to be a bit before Robb and Lenora are together again, but just know that you're not alone. (The author can't wait for them to be together either!)
darkwolf76: So much death went down in that chapter! That is part of why this one became a filler chapter. I needed a break from all the death. So instead I went to play with my favorite psychopaths. After this story I'm going to have to spend a week reading/writing something fluffy and sweet. Or not, I quite enjoy death and battles apparently.
I am really happy that Sansa is out of Littlefinger's grasp. And she's on he way to learning how to be a badass. She's learned a lot from Cersei and Littlefinger, and soon she'll be learning from Brienne, Arya (perhaps), and even from Lenora! It's going to be a party in the North. As for a romantic pairing for Sansa, there's going to be hints at one, but I'm going to leave most of it up to the readers.
Yes, Lenora will be picking up the majority of Sansa's suffering. It is Game of Throne's after all. And I just could not bear to put Sansa with Ramsay, she's a child. Lenora's grown, and stronger. She'll come out better off. As for your questions ... there is another wedding coming up, but there will be no raping. I am, personally 100% against writing rape scenes. So that is off the table, though he might try.
You got to see Grey Wind in this chapter. Or at least a glimpse of him. And some Bolton Red Shirts (Star Trek reference) got a lot more than a glimpse!
As for Tyrion and Gendry. No one would expect them to travel together, and therein lies the magic.
Fcv: Thank you for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Gamemaster77: I'm glad that you're enjoying the plot deviations! There are still some points that will read pretty close to cannon partially because there is no way around them or because I just want to try my hand at them (Battle of the Bastards) for example. But now, a lot of the characters are going on their own paths now. And I'm happy to provide the mystery! Don't worry though, this story will have somewhere between a bittersweet and a happy ending. I'm a sucker for a happy ending, though I refuse to give you guys one that is all sugar sweet and rainbows. I'm thinking a dark chocolate ending instead.
I'm glad that I crushed your hopes with Lenora's escape attempt. The show has this way of giving and taking. For every time that it gives the viewers something they want it takes something else away. And it was always my goal for this story to follow that same sort of pattern. I'm thrilled it's working out and I'm delighted that this is a story that you will reread. That is a HUGE compliment. So thank you.
Don't worry about sporadic reviews! As long as you're still enjoying the story I am content!
HoneyBear94: Hi! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story! And I hope that you loved this update as much as past chapters!
DatMatt: Good to know. I have found my fair share of stories where the author seemed to have lost steam or forgotten and just left readers hanging and they break my heart. And they never even delete the story. I understand writer's block but if it gets to the point where you're not gonna finish the story, delete it so that I know there's no hope, you know? So I refuse to do that to you guys. You might only get two updates a month, but I will finish this story. That's my promise.
I'm glad that Sansa bit did not feel forced. I noticed that on the show too and I hated it. So I knew I wanted her lying to protect Littlefinger and leaving to be in her point of view so that you guys could see her thought process, but more than that I wanted to show her start to grow up before she got to Winterfell so that it wasn't like, "alright guys, I'm the Lady of Winterfell and it's time for me to start playing the game" all in one go. I'm glad it worked out!
Kimberley: Thank you, dear! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one too!
And yes ... I've started a Captain America fic. (Two actually, one for Steve and one for Bucky) though they won't be posted for a bit. I want them to be absolutely finished and just waiting to be edited before I post even the first chapter. But they're coming!
guest: I'm sorry that you hate all those things. But don't worry, Lenora's not going to be raped. And she is most definitely going to hold her own against Ramsay. And also, remember she was raised as a Lannister for her first five years, they always pay their debts.
RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond: Oh my goodness! Three reviews! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story! I do have a question though, how did you find it if you don't watch Game of Thrones? I'm intrigued! And also astounded that you're rereading it while you wait for updates. There is a huge compliment to read that!
As for updating, I used to have a very regular update schedule, a chapter a day for seven days and then a week off and then repeat. I don't do that anymore, mostly because these chapters are huge. But I'm hoping to get at least a chapter out every other week, on good weeks you might even get two! But no matter the update schedule, I can promise this... I will finish this story.
ZiggyHoltz: Oh dear! I am so sorry. But I kind of love the idea that you read it all and spent a moment a bit lost when you couldn't just hit the next button! Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad that you enjoy my writing, and I'm even happier that you're more excited for the character deviations. There's a lot more of those coming your way soon!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And that it was worth the wait!
Sakura19Haruno95: Three days straight? Welcome to the binge reader club, my friend! I think there are like thirty of you running around here these days! I'm glad that you enjoyed it and finally got around to reading it! I hope I didn't leave you hanging for too long!
That's it guys, all I've got for today! I've got to finish cleaning my house because I've got people coming over tonight. Why? Because ... guess what night it is? Cavs opener! You know how I love the Cavs. I've been wearing my LeBron jersey since six am.
I'll be back soon (reviews might make me come back sooner!).
Until then,
Chloe Jane.