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Guys, guys! We didn't celebrate this with the last chapter, but I'll celebrate now. We're at 500,000 words! 500,000! Damn.

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Hollow

Robb

He could taste blood in his mouth. It was warm, and smooth as silk. He licked his lips, savoring the metallic taste. There was blood around his mouth, his tongue flicked out, warm and licked at some of it. It was drying, sticking to his fur. He would need to find a stream to clean it off before it hardened. Behind him a man moved, slowly inching his way across the forest floor on his stomach, moaning with every inch.

He turned, spying the man's insides trailing behind him as he crawled. The man was no threat to him now, but he had been a threat to her. They all had been.

A growl rose in his throat as he lunged forward, jumping on the man and tearing at the back of his throat, only stopping when more warm blood rushed into his mouth and the man stopped writhing beneath him.

These men, for their weapons and battle cries were weak and afraid.

But she hadn't been.

When he had caught onto her scent and followed it into the woods. It had smelled like fear. Bitter and sharp. But when he called out to her, willing her to recognize him - to know him. Her fear had lifted. It was replaced by the sweatier smell of the men's fear, but she had no longer been afraid.

Not only did she know him. But she trusted him.

Her horse had been too fast. By the time he attacked, going after the men that had been at the front of the party she was gone. He had killed as many as he could. And now he would follow her scent back to where they had taken her.

He would not lose her.

He recognized this wood. The smells were the smells of his early days. The plants looked familiar. The soil and snow were old friends under his paws.

And when he found himself on the wrong side of the tall stone walls, he knew them too.

...

His chest was tight when he awoke. His hands were clenched into tight fists. His throat felt raw, as if he had spent the night screaming her name to the sky. And perhaps he had. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to breathe and found Anguy, the archer, staring at him from across the fire. It was almost dawn; a few stars still twinkled in the lightening sky, waiting to greet the sun as it rose over the horizon. He struggled to sit up, the muscles in his back and shoulders contracted painfully, tugging as if they had been in use while he was sleeping.

The corners of the archer's lips twitched for a moment as they stared at each other over the flames. He didn't know what to call it, the man was not smiling, at least not happily, it seemed rueful and bitter. "Where did you go last night?" the man asked softly.

He had to lean forward to hear the question. Even so, the muscles near his ear twitched, as if trying to turn his wolf ears toward the archer. He started, wolf ears, it was a strange thought. He was a man, that was one of the few things he was certain of. He did not have wolf ears. At least not when he was awake. His dreams were another story. And last night's had felt so real. He could have sworn when he woke up that he could still taste the blood from the last kill in his mouth.

He glanced at the archer, the man was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. "I did not go anywhere," he told the archer, certain that he had not moved since he had laid himself down beside the fire the night before.

"Not physically, perhaps," the archer told him, his voice soft. "But you went somewhere. Where did you go?"

The man was going to think that he was touched. Even with that thought, that warning, the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "I was with her."

"With who?" the archer asked, making him say her name. Over the last fortnight the archer had realized that he avoided saying her name. And now Anguy made him use it whenever he talked about her.

His throat tightened. He felt as if he could not pull in a proper breath no matter how hard he tried. His heart started racing, his chest heaved with his effort to breathe. "Lenora," he gasped out, everything calming down the instant he said her name, as if she were a salve or a balm. A medicine for an ailment he had not even known he was suffering from. He hated it, for how weak he would seem, but he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Her name is Lenora."

Anguy smiled at him and nodded, as if proud. "It'll get easier," he told him, his voice soft and gentle. "Especially now that you remember her."

"I remembered her before," he growled out, angry that this man, this stranger would presume to know how he felt, to know that he would one day feel better. This archer did not know how it felt to be in his bones; the archer did not know what it was to feel chained to a body that he barely recognized; the archer did not know how it felt to run free every night, to follow her scent and smell her fear as she was dragged from one keep to another. The archer knew nothing.

He felt his fists clench, for a moment he imagined wrapping them around the man's neck and choking the life out of him. Holding the man by his throat until the light left his dark eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly unclenched his hands. This was not him, it was the darkness, this was not the way Robb Stark felt. "I remembered her before," he repeated again, his voice cracking. "I remembered Lenora before."

"Aye," Anguy told him with a nod. "You did. But you never let her in. You were still hollow. Now you're starting to fill yourself back up."

His gaze quickly darted to the archer's face. For a man who knew nothing about what he was going through, the archer seemed to know a good deal. He had felt hollow, for a long time, ever since he had woken up. He still felt hollow, but each day he felt a little less so. Perhaps he was becoming more himself.

Perhaps one day he would wake up and belong to the name Robb Stark again.

Perhaps one day he would wake up and be the man that Lenora Baratheon had loved again.

The archer understood him in a way he didn't think any of the other men could. He leaned closer to him, watching carefully. "I dreamt I was a wolf last night," he whispered.

Anguy shrugged, he looked unimpressed. "You are a wolf, my lord."

"No," he said, shaking his head, the archer did not understand what he was telling him, he didn't see. "I dreamt I was a true wolf, a direwolf. I was running, attacking men. I could smell her, Lenora, she was there. I had found her. It felt so real. Is that even possible?"

Anguy shrugged his shoulders again, "Who am I to say?" he asked, glancing up toward the ever brightening sky. "The first time I saw you, you were dead, a body that had been washed down the river, waiting for the Stranger. But the next morning you were walking and eating and talking, the same as the rest of us. Who am I to say what is possible?"

...

They were still traveling south. For his sake they stayed off the main roads. Thoros had promised him that they would not allow him to be returned to the Lannisters at any cost. "I'll kill you myself before I allow them the satisfaction," he had told him before swallowing a large sip from his flask one night. They walked through the woods, on smaller roads and trails that ran parallel to the main road. Often just wide enough to admit a pair, sometimes they moved in a single file line.

He was walking by himself now, just behind Lem and Thoros. The two ahead of him walked squeezed tightly together on a trail barely wide enough for one man, certainly not for two. They were whispering. He moved closer to them, keeping his face blank in case one of them looked back, but determined to hear what they were whispering about.

"Heard someone on the road yesterday evening saying that she wasn't south. That Bolton had snatched her after the massacre at the Twins and taken her north instead," Lem whispered to Thoros as they walked.

Thoros nodded, he had heard that rumor too judging by the lack of surprise on his face. "Heard that too," he whispered back.

"Then why are we going south?" Lem asked, nodding toward the empty trail in front of them. "If she's north?"

"Do we know that rumor is true?" Thoros asked. "I have been looking in the flames every night, but the Lord of Light will not give me an answer. There's a whole lot of north where Bolton could have stashed her. Especially now that he has control of the Moat."

Lem looked at him, a pointed look, "He'd want to keep her close," he argued. "And everyone knows that he has taken up residence at Winterfell, calls himself Lord of it now. She'd be there too. I'd stake my life on it."

"And what if it's an ambush?" Thoros asked. "What if someone's seen him and they've started this rumor to lure him north only to kill him again?" The priest shook his head. "I did not lose my friend to bring this man back from the dead only to lose him again because you fell for a trap."

"Why don't we ask him then?" Lem asked. "Tell him all we know, everything we've heard. He has a right to know after all. It's his wife, his people, his land. Tell him all of it and let him make his own decision. We have no right to dictate how he lives the rest of his life."

"But we have a right to keep him alive for it," Thoros argued. "Lord Beric did not sacrifice his own life to bring Robb Stark back to send him on a wild chase through the woods. He was brought back because he has a destiny. His destiny is in the south."

Lem arched an eyebrow, "And how likely do you think he will be to play his part when he finds out that his wife is held captive in the North?"

"Might be held captive," Thoros argued, his voice a sharp whisper. "We do not know that she is in the north. Her queen mother would have every reason to want her back in the south."

"And we do not know if she is in the south," Lem countered. "Roose Bolton would have more than enough incentive to want to keep her under his control."

...

"Lenora is at Winterfell," he told them that night as they ate a meager supper around the fire. He didn't look up from his food, he did not want to see the skeptical looks on their faces. He didn't want to see their disbelief when he explained how he knew where she was. "Roose Bolton never sent her south to her family, she is held captive at Winterfell."

It was quiet for a few long minutes, as if none of the men knew how to address his statement. Finally Thoros swallowed a large sip from his flask and leaned forward. "And how do you know that?" the man asked, watching him with furrowed brows.

"I saw her," he told the man, making eye contact so that the priest would understand just how certain he was.

"You saw her?" Thoros echoed, he did not believe him. "And when did you see her at Winterfell, boy?"

"In a dream," he told them, his gaze never leaving the priest. He knew how strange this sounded, how unbelievable it was. He was asking a lot from the men. If someone had told him they had seen something like this in a dream before he had died, he wouldn't have believed them either. But now he was asking them to believe him. "I was a wolf, my wolf. I followed her scent all the way to Winterfell."

Thoros leaned back. "But you said it yourself, boy. It was a dream."

He could remember waking up and still tasting the blood in his mouth. He could still feel the soreness of his muscles, as if he had been running on all fours for the entire night though he had never left his spot by the fire. It had been a dream, yes, but he was sure that it was also real. He glanced across the fire, making eye contact with Anguy, silently asking the man to back him up. Just that morning the archer had told him that anything could be possible. The brown haired man shook his head quietly. He might believe anything could be possible, but he wasn't going to stand up in front of the brotherhood and say that he believed that Robb Stark turned into a giant direwolf every night and tracked his wife all the way to Winterfell.

"It felt real," he told them, defending himself.

"They all do," Tom Sevenstrings assured him, glancing at Thoros to make sure that he should be discouraging him. The priest nodded. Tom glanced back, more sure of himself now. "She's south, my lord, that's where her family is. And that's where we'll find her. I promise you."

A growl began to rise in his throat, rumbling in a not entirely human way. A memory of the dream when he had been a wolf, unable to communicate with anything other than growls and calls. He clenched his fists and forced the growl to die in his throat. Perhaps they were right, perhaps it had only been a dream.

And perhaps she really was safe in the south.

-.-.-.-.-

Cersei

The Tyrell girl was truly horrible. Never in her entire life had Cersei ever met someone who was so intent on making her miserable as the slut from Highgarden. Before Tommen's coronation Tywin had decreed that Tommen and Margaery would be married, but it had not yet been publicly announced. In spite of the pain she had felt when Tyrion murdered her father, Cersei had allowed herself to hope that now that he was out from under Tywin's control, Tommen might listen to her when she dissuaded him from marrying the Tyrell girl.

But she was slower than she had been when she was young. And Margaery seemed more desperate than she had ever been. While she was mourning her father Margaery had cozied up to Tommen and persuaded him to announce to the court that he meant to take her as his wife and queen. There was no going back on it now, no matter how much Cersei misliked the arrangement. Her son thought himself in love with the slut and the court was pleased with the announcement.

Even though the War of the Seven Kings was all but over, Stannis was still out there somewhere, biding his time with the men he had left. And the North had shut itself off from the south after the Frey wedding at the Twins. Roose Bolton had stayed in contact with her father just long enough to be named temporary Warden of the North and given Winterfell before he had grabbed Lenora and spirited her just out of Cersei's reach. The riverlands were giving the Frey's a bit more trouble than they had anticipated. And on top of all of it, the days were getting ever shorter. It would not be long before the Citadel sent out their white birds, signaling the official beginning of winter.

There was a battle on every front. Whether it was with man or the cold. And it would do the crown well to have the Tyrells for an ally. One whose self-interest was linked with the crown's own interest. And when winter came the lords and ladies of King's Landing would be more than grateful for the grains that would arrive from Highgarden.

She could see all the benefits of the match, if she forced herself to. But she still misliked it. And she absolutely hated the girl.

Margaery Tyrell might have tricked Tommen, but she did not fool Cersei. Cersei knew all of her games, she had been playing them for far longer. And she would be playing them longer than the girl could ever imagine.

She entered the girl's chambers without waiting to be announced. The girl might be marrying Tommen that afternoon, but she was not queen yet, that title still belonged to Cersei for a few more precious hours. Margaery's ladies were dressing her in her wedding finery, a gorgeous gown of gold brocade with bell sleeves. Her hair a careful mess of honey colored curls tumbling from an antlered tiara. She turned from the mirror she stood in front of, her eyes wide with surprise, but when her gaze landed on Cersei she smiled.

"Your Grace," she greeted as she turned back toward the mirror. She did not curtsy, she did not even nod. She was taking liberties that Cersei would not have allowed anyone else, but the girl was going to be her daughter by law, and her queen.

Cersei pursed her lips together as she moved further into the chamber. She clasped her hands in front of her. "You sent for me?" she asked. Margaery was taking advantage of the fact that she was soon to be queen to be impolite to Cersei, and Cersei would take advantage of the fact that the girl was not queen yet to be just as impolite.

Margaery turned, smiling at her over her shoulder. "I thought it would be nice to invite you to help me to dress," she told Cersei, her smiling tightening a bit. "What with your daughters -" her voice dropped off.

"My daughters?" Cersei asked, arching a brow. She shook her head, "I don't understand."

Margaery's smile did not reach her eyes. It looked false. "Well, with Lenora married to Robb Stark in the North without you. And Myrcella in Dorne, Tommen says that she is to marry Prince Trystane before the next moon's turn. He said that you were not invited to the wedding."

Cersei's jaw clenched, she did not need this stupid girl reminding her of how far away her daughters were. She did not need to be reminded of how long it had been since she had seen them. "And you thought that I would want to help you dress for your wedding to my son?" she bit out, her voice clipped and cold.

Margaery nodded, that pretend smile on her lips again. "Well, you are to be my mother after this afternoon," she told her, his voice gentle, though it had a playful ring to it. She knew exactly what her words would do to Cersei. "And while I can never take the place of your daughters, I had hoped that I might be a substitute of sorts. You were unable to dress Lenora for her wedding, you will be unable to dress Myrcella for her wedding." She turned fully now, holding out the heavy golden dress.

Her ladies smiled and cooed about how kind it was for Margaery to think of Cersei and her daughters on her wedding day. But Cersei's throat tightened as she stared at the girl through narrowed eyes. It seemed a sweet enough offer, a kind one. But Cersei saw it for what it was, a cruel dig about how her daughters were lost to her. She didn't want to be a replacement, she didn't want to be a substitute, she wanted to be a reminder. And she would do so by reducing Cersei to little more than a handmaiden, one who should feel grateful to tie the laces of her wedding gown.

She clenched her jaw as she moved forward, taking the dress out of Margaery's hands. "You are too kind, Lady Margaery," she told the girl, playing the part she was expected to despite this insult.

The dress was already unlaced, she pulled it open wide enough that the girl would be able to step into it and glanced at the brunette, waiting. The girl giggled and shook her head, "I'm sorry," she apologized, as if she had anything to be ashamed for. "I'm afraid that I am so nervous about the ceremony this afternoon that I have lost any sort of sense of balance. Would you mind?" she gestured toward the ground.

Cersei swallowed and shot the girl a glare as she knelt on the ground, bringing the gown low enough that Margaery would have no problem stepping into it. She had not simply been reduced to the role of handmaiden, but almost to chamber maid. Margaery placed a hand on her shoulder under the pretense of needing help balancing; she pushed Cersei even closer to the ground as she stepped into the dress. And then Cersei slowly stood, pulling the dress up as she went.

Margaery smiled at her as she slipped her hands into the bell sleeves. And then the rest of her ladies rushed forward, pushing Cersei out of the way. "Thank you so much, Your Grace," Margaery sneered at her over her shoulder as she was quickly shoved away. "I shall cherish that memory for all my life."

...

Tommen had had no time for her after his wedding ceremony or during his feast. He was too wrapped up in everything; the congratulations of his court, the beauty of his queen, the savory food, and the wine he was finally allowed to drink. He had been drunk after one goblet and Cersei was reminded of how young he was, he was a child still. One that the court was about to bring to bed with a wife.

He had barely left his chambers that first day after the wedding. It was only two days after he had made the slut his wife that he finally made time for her. He called her to the throne room and then brought her for a walk along the outer wall of the Red Keep.

It was a familiar walk, one she had taken many times with her children. If she closed her eyes she could still imagine it, it had not been so many years after all. Robert had secured a nursemaid for her, but she did not allow the strange woman to touch her children. She carried the baby Tommen on her own hip, Myrcella toddled along beside her, one hand fisted in Cersei's skirts to help her balance, Lenora and Joffrey running along behind, squealing and giggling and fighting each other with wooden play swords. She had been happy then.

It had been so long since she could remember being happy, but she imagined that it felt very similar to how she felt now, walking beside her youngest son, a boy who had now grown taller than herself. He wore his crown just as well as he sat the throne, he looked comfortable and secure. She had once thought that Lenora was the only child she had not ruined. But now as she looked up at Tommen she thought that perhaps he had escaped her curse as well.

"You look well," she told him as she looped her arm through his, pulling him closer to her.

Tommen smiled down at her. "As do you, Mother," he told her, his voice gentle. His gaze swept past her, looking out over the wall at the sea beyond. He no longer looked as comfortable as he had just a moment before. He looked troubled. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he sighed and shook his head.

"What is it?" Cersei asked him, her brows furrowing. "What is it, my love?"

"Have you had word from Uncle Jaime?" Tommen asked her, bringing his gaze back to her face. "The ceremony the other day was beautiful and everything Margaery and I could have wanted, but I did miss Lenora. I wish that we had waited until Uncle Jaime was able to bring her home to us before the ceremony. She would have loved helping Margaery get ready for it."

Cersei's smile felt tight and stretched as she nodded. "I'm sure she would have," she agreed with her son. "Your sister has always wanted nothing but happiness for you. And even I can see that Lady Margaery makes you happy."

"Queen," Tommen corrected, distracted from his previous thought by Cersei's statement. "Queen Margaery."

Cersei nodded again, "Of course," she agreed. "Queen Margaery." She was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "I have had no word from your uncle," she told him, addressing his question. "Though he told me that he would not send word until he had her. So I think it will be a long while before we hear from him, and then it will be good news."

Tommen nodded, a smile slipping onto his lips. He was as tall as a man, but he was still very much a boy, one who always believed the best. He had no doubt that his uncle would rescue his sister. And now that his mother had confirmed it, he no longer needed to be troubled by it. He changed the subject. "Did you enjoy yourself at the ceremony, Mother?"

She nodded, a lie. She had not enjoyed herself, but she was able to make it appear as though she had. "I enjoyed how happy you looked," she told him, a truth. "And you still do." She pulled him a bit closer, so that he was pressed tight against her arm and her side. "You look very much in love," she told him, swallowing her distaste at the thought. "The first days of marriage are always so blissful."

Tommen nodded in agreement. "And mine more than most," he told her, boasting with a child's confidence. "I am sure there has never been a happier King and Queen than Margaery and myself."

Not one in recent memory at least, Cersei thought to herself. "She certainly is very pretty isn't she?" Cersei asked him, attributing her son's happiness to the girl's looks. She had to be careful, she did not want Tommen to think that she did not like the Tyrell girl, but she wanted to undermine his appreciation of her. If she were careful, by the end of the conversation she would have her son believing that everything worthwhile about the girl was tied up in her looks. And then he would realize that he still needed his mother and her mind to help him run the kingdom.

"Like a doll," she continued, smirking when she watched her son's brows furrow out of the corner of her eyes. "She smiles a lot."

In her earlier days Cersei had smiled a lot too. Though there had always been thought behind her smiles. She was told once that while her smile was as bright as the summer sun, it set men on edge, worried about what she was plotting. Margaery's smiles were nothing like that, they were fake and simple. There was very little plotting and no intelligence behind them. "Do you think she is intelligent?" Cersei asked her son, turning to look at him with a smile and a laugh. "I can't quite tell."

He looked so uncertain now, so unsure of himself. Her laughter softened into a smile, she had won. "Not that it really matters," she continued, about to assure Tommen that he did not need an intelligent queen when he had an intelligent mother.

"Do you ever miss Casterly Rock?" Tommen asked, turning to look at her and interrupting her before she could continue.

"There's nothing for me in Casterly Rock," she assured him. She could not understand why he was asking her that.

Tommen pulled his arm out of her grasp and moved to stand in front of her, blocking her path. "But that's where you grew up," he told her, his voice so earnest that she believed that he believed what he was saying without a shadow of a doubt. "You always told me that you liked the people there better. You said that King's Landing smelled of horse dung and sour milk."

It was her son speaking, her son's words, but it was the Highgarden slut that had put the thought into his head. She knew that. She had to remind herself that the son she had raised would never have even thought to send her away if it weren't for him being poisoned against her by Margaery, and even a bit by her own father before he had died. This was not the boy she loved.

She forced herself to laugh, just one hard chuckle. "Why are we speaking of Casterly Rock?" she asked him, suspicion coloring her tone.

He shrugged his shoulders, still watching her with his sincere green eyes. "The way you talked about it, I always thought that you missed it. That it was your real home -"

"This is my real home now," Cersei cut in. "Where my family lives."

Tommen smiled kindly, but that was not the answer that he had wanted. "I want you to be happy, Mother," he told her softly.

"I know you do," she told him. "I know that, my sweet boy."

"And wouldn't you be happier at Casterly Rock?" he pressed.

You mean that your wife would be happier with me at Casterly Rock she thought as she pressed a kiss against his cheek.

-.-.-.-.-

Jon

The dinner hall was crowded when Jon walked in. He could only remember one time in all his days at Castle Black that it had been this full, and that had been when one of the rangers had taken down a bear just north of the Wall and brought it back to be turned into stew. There was no stew now though, only a vote. Tonight the Black Brothers had gathered to vote and name Ser Alliser Thorne the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Jon sat down at a table with a few other stewards as Maester Aemon stood from his seat at the center of the high table and cleared his throat, politely calling for silence from the men before him. "Does anyone wish to speak for candidates before we cast our tokens for the nine hundred and ninety-eighth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"

He had barely finished his question when Lord Janos Slynt stood from his bench, turning not to address the high table, but to the men that filled the hall. "Ser Alliser Thorne is not just a knight," he proclaimed, turning to give the man in question a simpering smile. "He is a man of true nobility." Jon rolled his eyes, he had known true nobility and Ser Alliser Thorne was the complete opposite of it. Jon's father had been truly noble, his brother Robb, Lenora Baratheon, and even Tyrion Lannister had shown him what it truly meant to be noble. It mean to be kind, and just and understanding. It meant to judge people fairly, and to treat them as if they were every bit as important as the king himself. Ser Alliser Thorne had never treated anyone with that level of kindness and nobility. There was no use pretending it now.

"He was acting Commander when the Wall came under attack," Slynt continued. "And he led us to victory against the Wildlings!" Several of the men around Jon cheered their agreement to that statement. "He is the veteran of a hundred battles and has been a defender of the Watch and the Wall for almost all his life." More cheers from the men around Jon. Slynt looked around, daring anyone to argue with him. "He is the only true choice," he announced as he took his seat.

Another man stood, one of the Black Brothers from Eastwatch By the Sea. "Ser Dennis Mallister joined the Watch as a boy," he announced, gesturing toward his candidate. "And has served loyally, longer than any other ranger." The agreement to this statement was not as loud, but Jon could see many of the men nodding in silent agreement to what they heard. "Through ten winters he served. As commander of the Shadow Tower he kept the Wildlings away. We could do no better." Men clapped, a few cheered. Jon banged his cup against the table in agreement. He would rather serve Ser Dennis Mallister than Ser Alliser Thorne.

"If there is no one else," Maester Aemon's voice cut through the noise, "we will begin the voting. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne, the square tokens for Ser Dennis Mallister. Each one of you -"

"Maester Aemon!" Sam interrupted the maester from behind where Jon was sitting. All the men, Jon included turned to look at Sam in surprise and confusion. He looked so scared, so afraid. His fists were clenched around his belt, Jon knew, to keep the shaking at bay. His lip trembled a bit when he realized that he was going to have to speak with the full attention of the Night's Watch.

"Samwell Tarly," Maester Aemon acknowledged. "Go on."

Sam's large eyes landed on Jon. Jon shook his head, he couldn't be sure, he didn't want to presume, but it looked as though Sam intended to put his name forward as a candidate. That was the last thing that Jon wanted or needed.

"Sam the Slayer," Lord Janos Slynt commented sarcastically, filling the silence with laughter at Sam's expense. "Another Wildling lover just like his friend Jon Snow. How's your lady love, Slayer?"

"Her name is Gilly," Sam defended the girl. "Brother Slynt knows her quite well, they cowered together in the larder during the Battle for the Wall." His voice was still shaking, but it got stronger as the men in the hall laughed, this time at Slynt's expense, rather than his own. "A Wildling girl, a baby, and Lord Janos. I found him there after the battle was over in a puddle of his own making."

The laughter got louder. Jon glanced up at the high table, even Maester Aemon was smiling at the picture Sam was painting. He dropped his gaze to the table in front of him when Sam began speaking again. "Whilst Lord Janos was hiding with the women and the children, Jon Snow was leading," he announced to the hall. "Ser Alliser fought bravely, tis true. But when he was wounded it was Jon Snow who saved us. He took charge of the Wall's defense, he killed the Magnar of the Thens; he went North to deal with Mance Raider, knowing it almost certainly meant his own death."

Jon shook his head. He liked Sam; protected him from many of the other Brothers, appreciated his friendship, but he did not like the way Sam was speaking about him now. Sam was making him sound brave and honorable when all he had done on the night of the battle was what he had sworn to do. He was no better, no braver than any of the men in the hall, save of course Lord Janos Slynt. But Sam was making him sound as if he were the bravest one of all.

"Before that, he led the mission to avenge Lord Commander Mormont. Mormont, himself choose Jon to be his steward, he saw something in Jon and now we've all seen it too. He may be young, but he was the commander we turned to when the night was darkest."

The men around him cheered, some even clapped Jon on the back. Jon turned, looking at them with wide eyes. This was not what he wanted. However little support he got would seem like a threat to Ser Alliser. And when he was named Lord Commander, which he would be, it would only serve to make Jon's life at the Wall that much harder.

Ser Alliser himself stood up and cleared his throat, "I can't argue with any of that," he told them, his gaze moving from Sam to Jon. "But who does Jon Snow want to command? The Night's Watch or the Wildlings? Everyone knows that he loved a Wildling girl, he spoke with Mance Raider many times. What would have happened in that tent between those two old friends if Stannis' army hadn't come along? We all saw him put the King Beyond the Wall out of his misery. Do you want to choose a man who has fought the Wildlings all his life or one who makes love to them?"

He was staring at Jon, baiting him, daring him to speak up in his defense. But Jon wouldn't do it. He had not wanted the nomination, he did not want to speak up against Ser Alliser. He dropped his gaze to the table in front of him. After a long moment Maester Aemon spoke, "It is time to vote," he announced.

There were three types of tokens now. Triangular for Ser Alliser, square for Ser Mallister, and circular for Jon Snow. Jon cast his vote with a square token, one of the small few who voted for Ser Mallister. The rest of the votes were split between himself and Ser Alliser. It was a tie, as the steward whispered to Maester Aemon.

The blind man stood up, he had not yet cast his vote. His hand reached out, touching the corners and lines that made up the triangular tokens for Ser Alliser. And then he moved one rod over and dropped a circular token.

The room broke out in cheers and yells, men banged their cups against the tables. Ser Alliser's corner was quiet.

Jon Snow had been named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

-.-.-.-.-

Tyrion

"Where are we going?" the boy asked as they rode down one of the lesser used roads that led north. This was the first time the boy had really spoken to Tyrion since he had agreed to travel north with him. For the most part he had been playing sullen and angry.

He did not like Tyrion, he hated Lannisters, not that Tyrion could really blame him. Tyrion did not much like him either, but he had needed someone to travel with, someone to protect him, and King's Landing had long since stopped being safe for Robert's bastards. It was in their mutual best interest to travel together, even though neither could stand the other.

Tyrion turned slightly in his saddle to look at the boy, or man rather for that was what he was. He looked so much like his father, so much like his noble born sister. They had the same dark brown hair, the same grey eyes. For a moment back at the smith's he had thought that he was staring at Robert's ghost, now he thought that he might as well be looking at Lenora's twin brother. They were that similar.

He turned back to the road ahead of them, "You have a sister you know," he told the young man, answering his sullen question in the most round about way he could imagine.

Gendry rolled his eyes, "I have two of them," he corrected. "The princesses. And a brother in the king."

Tyrion chuckled low and dark and shook his head. "You don't have to pretend with me, boy," he assured the dark haired man. "I am as aware as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms that Tommen is no Baratheon King, neither was Joffrey. And Myrcella is as close to a Baratheon princess as I am." He glanced over his shoulder to watch how the young man was taking it. He looked surprised that Tyrion was so willing to admit that his sister had made a cuckold of King Robert. He chuckled again, "Yes," he laughed, "I will admit it. I'm perhaps one of the few people in this entire kingdom who will admit it out loud. You have one sister."

"Lenora," Gendry breathed quietly. "What is she like?"

Tyrion chuckled, "Wondered about her, have you?" he asked.

Gendry nodded. He didn't make eye contact with Tyrion when he spoke, it was as if the boy were ashamed to admit what he said next. "Ever since I found out who I really was," he told Tyrion. "I look like him, no one's told me, but I know. The two Hands and yourself all looked like you were staring at a ghost the first time you saw me."

Tyrion nodded, "I thought I was," he admitted to the young man. "I had wondered who had drugged my wine. You looked exactly like the Robert I had known before he took the Mad King's throne. Just as young, just as confident," he nodded toward the young man's arms, "just as muscled. You have his hair and his eyes."

"And so does she," Gendry agreed. "I've never seen the lady, but I've heard. No one ever dared to name her bastard. They say she is beautiful."

Tyrion smiled. He enjoyed reading, he enjoyed whores, he enjoyed drinking and making fun of people's weaknesses, but he always got an unselfish joy from hearing people praise his niece. While he had very little to do with her looks, he liked to think that he had played a part when it came to the development of her mind. He had helped her learn to read after all. And there had been many afternoons when he and the princess had spent their time trying to outsmart each other with their own made up riddles. "She is," Tyrion agreed. "As beautiful as her mother, though dark and silver eyed like your father."

"And is she kind?" Gendry asked, hesitating a bit with his next question.

If Tyrion had to guess he would assume that the young man guessed that they were riding north to find Lenora. Of course he would want to know if she were kind. He was her bastard brother after all. He would be worried that she would try to have him killed as Joffrey had done, or that she would judge him as the rest of the world did. He nodded, the boy was pretending not to be watching him, but his shoulder's relaxed at Tyrion's silent nod. "She's much kinder than most of this world deserves," he told the boy.

"And why are we headed north?" Gendry asked.

Tyrion started a bit. He had assumed that they boy had some sort of understanding of what was happening in the Seven Kingdoms. But he looked just as lost as his question had suggested. He did not know what was happening, he did not seem to know that Lenora was being held captive in the North. "We're going to rescue her," Tyrion told him, keeping his answer as simple as possible. "After her husband was murdered she was taken captive. We're going to rescue her."

Gendry snorted, "You and me?" he asked incredulously. "A blacksmith and an imp are going to go rescue the princess?"

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders, "When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."

"When you say it any way it sounds ridiculous," Gendry cut in, still chuckling. "She'll be guarded. What use are you against guards?" He shook his head. "You can't fight." He glanced to his side, his grey eyes landing on the war hammer he had taken with him when he left the forge. "I'm good with this, but I'm not my father."

"You will be," Tyrion assured him. "You'll just need some practice." He looked forward again, watching for travelers. If anyone came toward them they needed to move off the trail and hide in the woods. He had no doubt that his sister had sent men after him to bring him back to King's Landing dead or alive. "And I am no good in a fight, but I excel at paying men off. You kill some guards, I bribe the others, and we'll rescue ourselves a princess in no time."

"And then what will we do with her?" Gendry asked. "You can't mean to bring her back to King's Landing?"

"That's exactly what I mean to do," Tyrion assured him, his voice strong and hard. He had given it a great deal of thought in the days since he had left King's Landing. "And we'll put her on the throne."

Gendry turned to look at him, giving him his full attention. "Brother to the queen," he joked, sitting up a bit straighter in his saddle. "I like the sound of that."

Tyrion nodded, "But first we need to rescue her."

Gendry shook his head, "If this is really what you want to do, first we will have to find some help. I want to meet my sister, I'm not sure if I'm ready to die for her."

Tyrion glanced at him sharply, "You should have told me that before we started our journey," he scolded the boy.

"I didn't know our purpose when we started our journey!" Gendry countered, smiling to soften the blow.

Tyrion nodded. "Our purpose is to rescue the princess. And then to see her safely put on the Iron Throne." He turned toward Gendry, his brow furrowed a bit. "If we see the death of my sister during that process, I would not be opposed."

Gendry chuckled as his hands clenched into fists, "You and me both, Lannister." His grey eyes took on a bit of a far away look for a moment before he shook his head and found his way back to the present. "I've got a friend," he explained. "She's got a list of people she wants dead. Your sister's name is at the top of it."

"And what sort of friend is this?" Tyrion asked with a laugh. He enjoyed the ridiculousness of one of the common folk making secret plans to kill Cersei, a girl at that.

"A lady," Gendry admitted. "And one I never deserved."

Author's Note:

I'm quite proud of this chapter. I must admit it. And as such I was not nervous about it until the moment I typed that sentence. Now I'm worried that you guys won't like it. It's weird, but the more I like a chapter the more worried I am that I will be the only person who did like it.
And so here I am, hoping that you guys enjoyed this chapter too.
You did, right?
(I'm going to assume you're nodding your heads ...) Good, me too.
As ever, thank you so much for stopping by and reading. Thank you for adding this story to your alerts lists, your favorites lists, and most of all thank you for reviewing! Those more than anything tell me whether or not I'm doing well here.
So keep them coming, you have no idea how appreciated they are.

Padfootette: I'm so glad that you loved the last chapter! Hopefully this update did not disappoint! Thank you so much for your review!

JaxAndCharlieTeller: Yay Yay Yay! I'm back. (And also back again!) I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one too. (More Jon because I love him and I've kept him away for too long. And while I'm still not completely comfortable writing in his voice the only way to get better is to keep trying, right?)
It's totally okay to use the name Lenora if you want to. Maybe just give a little credit to me, I obviously did not make up the name, but I went through a lot of stories to make sure that it wasn't a super overused name. Lenora went through several name changes before I settled on it because I wanted to make sure that it fit in the GoT universe and also fit our girl. But yeah, if you want to use it, go ahead. And let me know when you publish it so I can read it. I'm sure it will be just as good as this one.
I did see the interview! It was adorable!
Yup, I'm a Cavs fan. We're not doing so hot this season, but I've got faith my boys are going to figure it out. Oh no ... Warriors fan? We can be friends until we meet again in the finals, and then we'll see. I can respect Curry, but you guys pulled a trick last year with Durant. His team lost their shot at the finals, if he wanted to get traded to the Warriors, that's fine, but he should have rode the bench until this season. But that's just one Cleveland fan's opinion.
Huh. I guess I never explained that. Good question. I would assume that the Frey men sewed a normal wolf head (remember Arya thought it looked too small) onto the body of a dead man they dressed up to look like Robb. And that would explain why they sewed the head on, not as humiliation, but as a mask. (Think Theon and the miller's boys he burned to hide the fact that they weren't Bran and Rickon.)
The conversation between Catelyn and *gag*Talisa*gag* is one of my favorites in the show. And I thought so hard about putting it in this story, went back and forth over it so many times before I ultimately decided to scrap it. But another reviewer had a thought to bring it up as a flashback when Lenora meets Jon. And while I won't do a flashback, I have an idea about how to sort of work it in. I hope you'll enjoy it when we get to that point!

JanaOliver: I know! It seems so far away! But I promise the reunion will be stupendous when it happens, and completely worth the wait!

Spidey-phd: I love Grey Wind too! And I'm so happy he's alive. I cry a little every time a direwolf dies, so I decided to keep a few of them alive. The girl died, Grey Wind wouldn't have attacked her, but she was injured and in the snow. But don't worry, the rumors of Grey Wind (and perhaps Robb Stark's return) will be spreading soon.

bellaphant: I'm so happy that you enjoyed Jon and Grey Wind! You got more of them in this chapter! And some Robb thrown in for good measure! I hope you enjoyed it!

writingNOOB: I loved writing a scared Ramsay. It gave me enough of a muse that I went ahead and skipped a couple chapters and wrote about another scared Ramsay, this time after the Battle of the Bastards. And let me tell you, it was super satisfying. And I can't wait for you guys to read it!
I've also written about when Lenora meets Gendry and I think you'll enjoy it. She doesn't know him, she's never heard of him. But she'll recognize him. He looks too much like her father for her not to. You caught a self indulgent glimpse of him in this chapter, mostly because I adore him and Tyrion together.

Guest1995: The wedding is closing in (it happens in the next chapter to be exact). But don't worry, Ramsay will not be having his way with her. I can promise you that.
And you are pretty close to the money with your Grey Wind assumption. He will be there when she escapes. And your wish is my command ... ROBB!
Don't worry! I love your multiple reviews. It's a huge compliment because it means that the story sticks in your mind for a while. So not at all annoying. As for who's going to find Lenora first ... you'll just have to wait and see. (Can't give away all my secrets.)
Back again with another review! I love it! And I love your theory about Cersei and the Evil Queen from Snow White. (I honestly love any time that Disney can be linked to any other fandom.) It's something that I hadn't thought about before, but it's a trope that the show seems to be following (and my story too even unintentionally). And I'm thinking there might be a way I can play with it further down the road. Maybe ...

RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Gamemaster77: I'm glad that the last update notification made you happy and I hope that this one made you just as happy. Jon's not going to deviate too much from cannon until after he meets Lenora, mostly because there's some things that have to happen and also because cannon is kind of my security blanket while I'm getting used to writing in someone's voice. Unfortunately he will be killed by his men, but I have a reason for it. You just gotta trust me. (I agree though, fuck Olly).
As for Jaime, he's quietly realizing how toxic Cersei is. You're going to get some insight into what's going on in his head in an upcoming chapter. But basically, the further he gets from Cersei, the more distance between them, the more he's going to realize. Plus, when he's Lenora again, that flesh and blood reminder that Cersei tried to kill her, that's going to come rushing to the surface. As for your theory about Cersei you will have to wait and see. But don't worry, there will be a Lannister brother/Lenora reunion in your future.
"Lenora laying the sass" on the Boltons is my new favorite description of the last chapter. And yes, Roose most definitely spends his days regretting keeping Lenora. He's going to regret it a bit more before the end of this story. (And it's going to be fantastic!)

LunaEvanna Longbottom: It's a bit longer before Robb and Lenora reunite. But don't worry, she's going to officially reunite with Grey Wind very soon. And then everything will start coming together. I promise, you won't regret the wait.

CharlieSamantha: Thank you! You wrote your review on chapter nineteen, and admittedly, there are quite a few chapters between then and now. But I'm thrilled that you've enjoyed the story so far and I hope that you continue to do so!

HPuni101: Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one as well. Things are going to get a bit darker for Lenora, but only a little. Things are going to start looking up for her very soon. I promise. And don't worry, Jaime's going to find her. Thank you so much for your review!

sltsky96: Thank you so much for your review! I'm happy that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that this one also delivered on the enjoyment front. A lot of you really liked Jon, so there's more of him! I agree though, it was past time for him to rejoin the story.

darkwolf76: I'm glad that my writing is still amazing even though it was depressing. I hope that this chapter wasn't nearly as depressing. (That's part of why I threw Tyrion and Gendry in ... they were supposed to show up in the next chapter, but I moved them forward to keep it from being too depressing. And I hope it worked!)
I'm glad that you think that I wrote Jon well. Because there's going to be a lot of him in upcoming chapters, he plays some fairly important roles as far as Robb and Lenora are concerned. And yes, Tyrion was right, the one thing you can't hate Cersei for is her love for her children. But me, being the evil author that I am, am about to start playing with that. Muahahahaha.
None of the characters met up in this chapter, but they will be in upcoming chapters (don't quote me, but I think some will happen in the next chapter or the one after that at the latest). As for your happiness that Ramsay hasn't married Lenora yet, don't hold your breath, I wrote that chapter yesterday.

Danaren Reid: Oh my goodness! Your review is HUGE! I will try my best to answer all of it! But first of all thank you so much for your review! I'm glad that you're enjoying this story. I wrote it in part because of the same reasons you turned to GoT fanfictions. Because I didn't like the way the Starks and other characters (Jaime for example) were being treated and I decided to fix it. The story started out totally selfish and I'm just thrilled that other people are enjoying it.
I'm glad that you like Lenora. Writing OCs is tricky, because some people hate them and it can be really easy for them to become a Mary Sue. So I'm glad that hasn't happened yet.
Better than Cannon? That's a huge compliment and I hope you know how much I appreciate it.
Sansa's path in this story is very light compared to cannon. The worst that will happen to her is already behind her with Joffrey. Lenora is taking the brunt of the darker parts of Sansa's tv storyline. Because I could not do that to a child. I would not.
I'm sorry that you were disappointed that Daenerys won't be in this story. I wouldn't say that I hate her (especially in the later books and seasons) she's just not my favorite. And while I think a meeting between Dany and Lenora would be interesting, Dany's I want the Iron Throne storyline just does not mesh with where I want Lenora to end up at the end of this story, no matter how hard I try.
Robb came back with the help of Beric Dondarrion. In the books he brought Catelyn back as Lady Stoneheart, in this story he died to bring Robb back instead. Obviously Robb is in a better state than Catelyn was in the books. But he will be getting just as much revenge as she did.
I wouldn't count Theon out just yet. He's a coward, but I still have a soft spot for him and I will probably let him redeem himself.
Don't worry, there will be a Stark family reunion. That's one of the points of this story after all.
As for who I have in mind for Sansa. I am a weirdly huge fan of Sansa and Tyrion. Especially in the show, now that Sansa has grown a bit I think she realizes just how good of a man Tyrion was. But I also understand that that is a touchy ship. He's so much older than her and all. And people did not come to this story for Sansa and Tyrion, I feel it would be unfair to shove the couple on them. So there's going to be hints at it, but nothing concrete. I'll hint at it, but ultimately leave it up to you guys to imagine what happens as far as they are concerned.
Lenora will save herself, with some help from others, and as for Ramsay ... I've got something planned for him. It's vengeful and wicked and wonderful.
As for Lenora, I don't know if I would consider her a crossover between Jeyne and Talisa. She's more of an answer to them. I hate both of their characters, and so I wanted to give Robb a woman who I thought was actually worthy of him and out came Lenora.
As for the conversation you want as a flashback, I have an idea for it. I'm going to play around with it for a bit and see what I can do with it. But I would bet that it'll show up in some form sooner rather than later.

And that's all I've got for now my amazing readers!
Thank you so much!
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.