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Chapter Seventy-Two: Honor
Davos
They had arrived at the Wall before the men's betrayal. The young Lord Commander had welcomed them personally, he listened to Davos' plea for help, he sympathized with Stannis' army who at the very moment were most likely dying at Ramsay Bolton's hand, he heard the Red Woman's prophecies. But nothing swayed him, nothing changed his mind.
Many of his men already believed that Jon Snow had betrayed the Night's Watch by letting the Wildlings pass through the Wall, by giving them the very land they used to raid. Davos had been at Castle Black for less than an hour and he had already heard them grumbling. Jon would not press his luck, or his men's loyalty, a step further by interfering with the affairs of the realm.
Even if those affairs directly involved his home.
He firmly, though not unkindly, informed Davos that their return to the Wall had been a waste of time. Then he had promised them shelter and food until their departure and sent them away.
Davos had not seen Jon Snow since.
But on the evening of their third day at the Wall, just as he was making the decision that it was time to head south again, back toward Winterfell, to find Stannis if he was still alive, the Red Woman seemed to think he wasn't, he heard the wolf howling. His first thought was that the castle was under attack, perhaps by Wildlings still north of the Wall. But these howls did not sound like warning calls, and they did not stop.
Over and over the wolf called out, it was hard for Davos to even discern where one cry ended and the next began. It seemed almost as if it were one unending cry. The sound was impossible to drown out, and even more impossible not to feel. He could feel it in his chest, settling heavy in the pit of his stomach. It felt like sorrow, deep and gut wrenching, unfathomable heart ache. It felt like anger, and betrayal, and fear. It called out, screamed, for revenge.
And he knew, even as he prayed for any other outcome, even as he rushed through his chamber door as if he would be able to help somehow, he knew.
He knew the only thing that would make the strange wolf cry in such a manner.
And he believed that it would not bode well for anyone residing at Castle Black.
...
He had not been the only one to run outside at the wolf's howls, but he was the first to reach the body, cold and abandoned in the snow. A few men who the Lord Commander had considered his friends arrived too, confused and shocked by the murder of their brother and commander.
The only thing that shocked Davos was that the boy was not there. He followed Jon Snow everywhere, it was impossible to think that he had not been witness to whatever had befallen the young Lord Commander. Had then men imprisoned him? Killed him too and hidden the body? Davos did not know, but once they had moved the body inside he would be sure to find out.
They carried him into the Lord Commander's chambers and laid him down on his desk so that they could get a better look at his injuries. He had been stabbed. Five times by the look of it. Four times in the stomach and once in the heart. The blood on his vest was still wet, though it was no longer as warm as it should have been, it was starting to congeal.
Edd, his closest friend gently pushed Davos out of the way so that he could stand beside the body. One hand fell to Jon's chest, hovering over the wounds, the other to his head, closing the young man's eyes so that he was no longer staring blankly up at the ceiling. His breath came out in gasps, both angry and panicked. As if he was trying to reconcile what he was seeing before him with the impulse to deny it.
"Thorne did this," he growled, finally looking up from his fallen friend, making eye contact with each of the men in the chamber, daring them to argue with him.
"How many of the men do you think you can trust?" Davos asked, stepping forward. There would be a time for anger, but first the men needed to rally together, the ones who were still loyal to Jon Snow, there was a fight brewing at Castle Black.
And they were already behind.
"Trust?" Edd echoed, shaking his head. "The men in this room."
That wasn't very heartening, Davos included there were only four men in the room. Five if you counted Jon Snow's body. "Does the wolf know you?" Davos asked, he could still hear the beast howling outside. Edd turned to him, his brows furrowed in confusion. Davos shrugged, "We need all the help we can get."
Just as Edd was about to head out the door to grab the wolf there was knock on it. All four living men in the room turned toward the door, the Black Brothers drew their swords, ready to fight to the death. "Ser Davos," came the voice of the Red Woman on the other side of the door.
It was a stretch for Davos to say that he trusted her, the Red Woman, but there was very little more that she could do to Jon Snow now. The men sheathed their swords and Edd opened the door so that she could enter.
A strange sort of sadness settled over her face as she walked further into the room, coming to stand beside the desk to look down at Jon Snow's body. She shook her head, denying what her eyes were seeing. "I saw him in the flames," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "Fighting at Winterfell."
Davos felt his eyebrows lift, she had seen a lot of things in the flames, and as far as he knew, not a single one of them had come true. "I can't speak for the flames, but he's gone."
...
When Edd returned with the wolf he brought more bad news. Thorne had called a meeting of the Brothers. He was presiding over it. Sitting in the Lord Commander's seat.
The two other Brothers in the room growled at the news, angry and disgusted that the man who had orchestrated the murder of their Lord Commander would now presume to take his seat. But they were missing the more troubling news, so absorbed in the insult of it all.
"He'll have seen that you didn't go," Davos warned them, watching as the wolf whimpered and walked away from the body, settling itself in the corner of the chambers. The behavior surprised him, he would have thought, especially after all the howling, that the wolf would have stayed at Jon's side. "He will have made it official by now. Castle Black is his. The Watch is his."
"I don't care who sits at the High Table," Edd growled. "Jon was my friend. And those fuckers butchered him. Now we'll return the favor."
The other two brothers were nodding. Davos sighed, beginning to understand why Stannis had named him his Hand. These three men were so angry, so bitter, they weren't thinking. Davos was not a learned man, but even he could see that this would not end well. "We don't have the numbers," he cautioned them.
"We have a direwolf," Edd countered.
The beast would do some damage, but not nearly enough. Eventually it would be killed, and Edd and his two men soon after. "I didn't know Lord Commander Snow for long, but I have to believe that he wouldn't have wanted to see his friends die for nothing."
Edd shook his head, "If you were planning to live to see tomorrow you picked the wrong room," he warned Davos. "We all die today, I say we do our best to take Thorne with us when we go."
Again Davos shook his head, Edd was planning a suicide mission when he did not have to be. "We need to fight," he agreed. "But we don't need to die. Not if we have help."
"Who is going to help us?" one of the other Brothers asked bitterly. "The rest of them were all at Thorne's meeting. Even Olly, and we all know how he loved Jon." He shook his head, spitting bitterly on the floor.
"You are not the only men who owe your lives to Jon Snow," Davos argued, turning his gaze to Edd and hoping that he would not have to spell it out for the man, hoping that he would understand the hint.
Edd stared at him for a moment before he glanced toward the door, south, his gaze darted back toward Davos, he understood. Davos nodded. Edd turned toward his men, "Bolt the door," he ordered. "Don't let anyone in. I'll be back as soon as I can."
...
The Watch waited for one day before they started to make their demands. Edd had not yet returned and Davos and the men in the room would not budge. They would not open the door, they would not meet with Thorne and his men. They would not give up Jon's body.
Thorne's demands - though they rarely came from Thorne himself - alternated between quiet requests, entreaties, promises of mercy and threats, angry outbursts, promises of violence.
And by early evening that day, they were no longer asking anything. They would take what they wanted, whether the men barricaded in the Lord Commander's chambers fought them or not.
That evening Thorne came to the door himself, knocking quietly. "It's time, Ser Davos," he announced, speaking solely to Davos as if he had the power to command the men in the room. "Open the door and the men can join their brothers in peace." Davos did not speak, this was not all Thorne had to say. "We'll even set the wolf free north of the Wall where it belongs," the self proclaimed Lord Commander promised.
A lie.
"Nobody needs to die tonight."
Those last words were both a threat and a promise. No one needed to die, but Davos was sure that everyone in the room would die if Thorne got his way. He turned to the men, grabbing Jon's sword. "I've never been much of a fighter," he told the men as he unsheathed the sword, "my apologies for what you are about to see."
They smiled grimly at him as they followed suit, unsheathing their own swords and preparing for battle. The wolf stood, coming to stand guard over Jon's body and Davos knew, that until the wolf was dead, no one would touch the Lord Commander.
On the other side of the door Thorne gave his men the order to chop it down so that they could force their way in. The man had just succeeded in chopping a small hole in the door when a much louder crash sounded from the courtyard. Thorne's men turned away from the door while Davos turned to the men inside the chamber, each of them praying that Edd had finally returned with as many Wildlings as were willing to help.
They waited until all of Thorne's men had left the hallway outside the chamber before they followed, leaving the wolf to stand guard over Jon Snow's body. When they made it to the walk above the courtyard they saw two dead bodies, one who had been killed with a sword, the other looked as though it had been thrown around by the giant. Many of the men, the ones only tentatively loyal to Thorne had dropped their swords in surrender.
"You're a fucking traitor," Thorne growled at Edd, his eyes sweeping over the band of Wildlings that Edd had led back to Castle Black.
"The only traitors are the men who shoved their knives into their Lord Commander's heart," Edd growled back, his voice like steel.
"For thousands of years the Night's Watch has held Castle Black against the Wildlings," Thorne argued, trying to put himself back on top, trying to paint himself as loyal.
"Until you," the tall red headed Wildling they called Tormund answered.
They gave themselves away then, the men who had followed Thorne and killed Jon Snow. There were six of them, the boy included, who still held their swords, who tried to attack Edd and the Wildlings. They were beaten easily and quickly escorted by Wildlings to the cells where they would await judgement.
Then Edd brought Tormund up the stairs to the Lord Commander's chambers so that he could see Jon as well.
The large Wildling looked down at him for a long moment before he glanced up at Davos. "It took a lot of knives," he whispered, there was a hint of pride in his voice, he was proud of the man who had been stabbed six times before he died. He glanced toward Edd, "I'll have my men gather wood," he told him. "There are bodies to burn."
He turned to leave the room.
Davos glanced down at Jon's body. His chest tightened at the words bodies to burn, he supposed there were bodies to burn. But he was certain that Jon Snow's did not need to be one of them. He turned to Edd, "I'll be back," he told the Brother. "Don't let them touch him until I am."
"Where are you going?" Edd asked.
"To see the Red Woman."
...
He knocked to announce himself before he entered. "I'm sorry for interrupting, my Lady," he told her as he walked into the room.
She barely looked up from the flames she was staring at, he wondered what they told her now. He wondered if they told her anything.
"You interrupt nothing," she told him.
"I assume you know why I'm here," he told her hesitantly. He was not a fan of the woman's magic, but he could no longer claim himself a nonbeliever, not after everything he had seen her do. The woman held a sort of magic, and now he hoped that she would be able to use it on Jon Snow.
"I will after you tell me," came her answer.
"It's about the Lord Commander," he started.
"The former Lord Commander?" she asked, her voice putting a dark emphasis on the word former.
"Does he have to be?" Davos asked, finally getting the woman to look at him.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
She could feel Jaime watching her while the three of them made camp that night, well away from Winterfell and Ramsay's dead men. He had barely let her out of his sight since he and Bronn had found her in the clearing. It had been a fight to get him to allow her to walk into the woods to make water, he had only agreed after she had promised him that she would bring Grey Wind with her.
They had taken the horses that had once belonged to Ramsay's dead men and when they rode Jaime rode as close to Lenora's horse as he had when she was a child learning to ride a pony. Always within arm's reach, always there to catch her if she slowed down or started to fall. Always there. Just as he had once promised her he would be.
When they made camp both man and wolf stayed by her side the entire time. She appreciated it, after so many months alone, she appreciated the support, but it felt strange. She was no longer used to having someone at her side, worrying about her, trying to take care of her. It made her as nervous as Ramsay's attention had once made her.
Because of that, after supper she found herself walking over to Bronn, the only one in the group that did not seem intent on treating her as if she might break at any moment.
He smiled at her for a brief moment when she sat down next to him and then he turned back to the flask in his hand. Lenora reached out, grabbing the flask before he could have a sip and claiming it for her own. Bronn did not tell her no, but he did turn to look at her, "Are you certain you can handle that, Your Grace?" he asked her, cautioning her with his words as she lifted the flask to her own lips. "This was not made for ladies."
She took a long pull from the flask, wincing slightly as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. This was ale, not the wine she was accustomed to. And it was much harsher than any of the ale her father had drank. But it served its purpose, warming her even as it burned her throat and settled uneasily in her stomach. She took another sip. "I haven't been treated like a lady in a very long time," she told him, her voice dark and bitter as she passed the flask back to him. "And please don't call me Your Grace."
The last person who had called her that had been Ramsay.
Bronn took a sip from his flask and nodded, "I imagine that it's hard," he told her, his voice slow and cautious. She turned, glancing at him. He was being careful not to look at her, as if worried that it would scare her off. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "I don't know much about this bastard, Bolton," he told her with a shrug, finally glancing at her, his light blue eyes dancing over the cuts and bruises that were visible on her face and neck. "But I can imagine that what I see isn't the worst of it." He shook his head, swallowing another gulp from his flask before he held it out to her, offering her more. She shook her head. "It must be difficult," he continued, coming around to his previous statement, "to suddenly be thrown back into a world where people care about you, where they worry about you," he glanced across the fire to where Jaime and Grey Wind sat. The wolf's yellow eyes shown in the fire light, they were locked on Lenora, Jaime was determinedly staring at the sword he was cleaning in his lap. "Where they'd sooner kill themselves than let someone hurt you."
Lenora turned to him, reaching out for the flask again, "You're remarkably perceptive, Ser Bronn," she told him as she took another large sip. She glanced back across the fire, watching the wolf and man. "How did you find Grey Wind?" she asked him, it was a question that had been plaguing her all day but she had not asked it yet. She was afraid to ask. Ever since Roose Bolton had taken her from the Twins she had thought that she had seen the wolf, she had thought it a ghost. But now, here he was, in the flesh. It gave her hope, something that she had learned long ago only led to heartache.
"The wolf found us," Bronn told her, glancing at the wolf too. "In the woods outside of Wintertown."
Lenora shook her head, denying it. It was strange to see the wolf so friendly with her uncle. The last time they had been together the wolf had looked at her uncle as an enemy, but now they sat side by side, not friends perhaps, but coconspirators on the same mission. "What were you doing up here?" she asked in a whisper.
"Rescuing you," Bronn told her, his voice slow as if he thought her stupid. "Of course."
"And what was your plan?" she asked him, laughter coloring her tone. It felt good to laugh at something, anything that wasn't Ramsay. It felt good to laugh because she thought something was funny, instead of out of relief that the bastard hadn't touched her. "A sellsword, a one-handed knight, and a direwolf? Were you going to storm the most fortified keep in the North and fight your way to my chambers?"
Bronn smiled and shook his head, "We were drawing them out. First the Bolton men, then the Lord himself."
Lenora turned to him sharply. "The raids in Wintertown were the two of you?" she asked. He nodded. She shook her head, "They were my uncle Stannis' men. Ramsay told me. Lord Bolton went out in search of the group and was killed by them, that's why Ramsay marched early, he assumed my uncle was closer than the scouts reported."
Bronn shook his head, "I can't speak for Stannis," he told her. "He might have been closer than anticipated. But the raids were us. And your uncle, your Lannister uncle, killed Roose Bolton."
Lenora turned back to watch Jaime, he was struggling as he tried to sheath his sword again. "Why didn't he tell me?" she asked.
Bronn shrugged, "I suspect he feels guilty," he told her. "He did not plan your husband's murder, in fact he did not learn about it until he was returned to the capitol. But when he was brought to Roose Bolton he hinted that there were more beneficial relationships to be had in the Seven Kingdoms than the one he currently held with the Starks. He felt responsible, it was his duty to kill Roose Bolton for you."
Lenora's lips twisted into a bittersweet smile, it was so like her uncle to take responsibility for something that was not his fault. He had done it for years, carrying the name Kingslayer when all he had done was save everyone in the Seven Kingdoms. And now he wanted to do it again, carrying the weight of Robb's death on his shoulders when that belonged to her Grandfather alone. She shook her head as she stood from her seat and moved around the fire to be closer to her uncle. This game of guilt and blame would have to stop.
Grey Wind stood from his uneasy seat, both making room for Lenora between himself and Jaime and crowding into her personal space when she did not immediately sit down. She stood, the wolf now at her side, as she stared down at her uncle. To his credit, he continued to pretend not to be watching her, but his hand had stilled on his blade the moment she stood and started to make her way around the fire. "I thought we were done playing this game, Uncle Jaime," she scolded him playfully, smiling as warmly as she could when he finally lifted his gaze to her face.
"What game, doe?" he asked her, his brows furrowed, his tone serious.
"The game where you blame yourself for being the honorable, noble man that you are," she told him as she finally sat beside him, reaching out to take the sword from his hand so that she could slide it into its sheath on her own. Grey Wind sat down to her right, leaning into her, lending her his warmth. She smiled as she shook her head, "You are no more to blame for what happened to Robb, for what happened to me, than you are for killing the Mad King," she whispered to him as she dropped her hand on top of his golden hand.
She did not miss the way he winced when she touched his false hand, as if ashamed. He shook his head. "I left you," he whispered. "Even if I did not play a part in planning that gods forsaken farce of a wedding, I left you. Catelyn Stark set me free and instead of refusing or staying in the woods near Riverrun and awaiting your return. I left. If I had been there -"
"If you had been there you would have been left at Riverrun while our party traveled to the Twins for the wedding," Lenora interrupted him. She loved her uncle, but she would not allow him to wallow in self pity. "If you had been there, Walder Frey still would have sent you back to King's Landing, or perhaps he would have killed you. The Freys hold Riverrun now, either way you would have belonged to a man who was already in Grandfather's pocket." She gestured toward her face, "This is not your fault, Jaime."
He reached out for her face and she forced herself not to flinch away from him. For so long the only gentle hand she had known had been Theon's, it was strange now, to know that she would soon be surrounded by men who would never dream of hurting her. His left hand covered the entire side of her face, cupping her entire jaw line from ear to chin, his thumb brushing lightly against her bruised cheekbone. "What did he do to you, Len?" he asked her, his voice little more than a whisper. "You said he didn't hurt you, but your face is evidence enough that that was a falsehood. What did he do to you?"
She could have told him all of it. Stories of starvation, of humiliation, the whippings, the beatings, the words he had called her while she laughed at him, if only to protect herself with his own humiliation. But it would do neither of them any good. It would only serve to make her uncle feel more guilty for how long it had taken him to get to her, or his imagined part in the entire scheme. And it was over now, Ramsay would never be allowed to touch her again, she was free; the last thing she needed to do was remind herself of a time when she wasn't.
She shook her head and glanced away from him, absentmindedly patting his golden hand as her gaze landed on the fire in front of them. "He caused no serious, or lasting, damage Uncle Jaime," she promised the older man. She turned back to him and forced a smile onto her lips, hoping he would believe it. "He did the worst he could imagine, and I survived. That is all either of us need to remember now."
Jaime shook his head, "I will kill him," he growled. His own words echoed by the growl of the wolf to her right. Lenora dropped her free hand onto of Grey Wind's head and gently scratched the large wolf behind the ears, hoping to calm the beast down.
"You will do no such thing," she admonished her uncle sharply, turning at the last moment to glance at the wolf as well so that the animal understood that her warning was for both of them.
Jaime turned to her, his Lannister green eyes - the ones her siblings had inherited from him - wide, "Lenora," he whispered, his voice just as sharp as hers had been. "You are my niece, and regardless of what you say I need to remember, he abused you. Honor compels -"
Lenora smiled softly and held up her left hand, her palm facing him, a silent signal that she wanted him to stop talking. He did. "Honor compels that he must die," she agreed with a nod. "But it was not you he abused, Uncle. When he dies, it will be by my hand. Not yours."
Jaime stared at her for a moment before he wrapped his right arm around the back of her neck and pulled her closer to him, pressing a hard kiss against her forehead. "Where did you get your strength, doe?" he asked her, his lips still pressed against her skin.
She laughed as she pulled away from him, just enough to press a kiss of her own against his cheek. "What else do you expect from a fawn raised by a lion?" she asked him. "And then married to a wolf?" She shook her head, "I had no choice than to be strong or I would have been eaten alive."
...
She finally asked about her mother the next morning while they were cleaning up their camp, trying their best to make it look as though no one had been there, before they left. She had just finished burying the remains of their fire when Jaime approached her, leading a horse toward her.
"He's not Casterly," he supplied, speaking of the horse she had had to leave behind at Winterfell. "But he's fast and strong."
Lenora smiled as she stepped closer to the horse and raised her hand to stroke his nose. "He'll do," she promised her uncle. They stood for a moment, staring at the horse before she turned back to her uncle. "When you were in King's Landing," she started, the words dragging out slowly, like sap from a tree on a cold day. "You saw Mother?" Jaime nodded, his gaze dropping to her face though he did not say a word. "How is she?" Lenora asked. She shook her head, "I know that Joff's death must have been -" she stopped. She couldn't finish the statement. She hated imagining that it had been difficult for her mother when her monster of a brother had died. She hated living in a world where her mother could miss him.
She didn't need to finish her sentence though, Jaime understood. He nodded, "Your mother handled Joffrey's death as well as she could," he told her. Lenora arched an eyebrow, silently imagining what that meant. Jaime sighed, "She blamed Sansa Stark," he told her, hiding nothing from her. "And when the girl disappeared from the city, she blamed Tyrion."
"Tyrion would never -" Lenora started, then she stopped. This was not news to her, it felt like a lifetime ago, but Roose Bolton had told her this. When he told her that Tyrion had also killed her grandfather. "Tyrion did not kill Joffrey," she told her uncle, her voice full of conviction. "And neither did Sansa Stark." Jaime nodded, he believed her. "But he did kill Grandfather," Lenora continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Didn't he?"
Jaime nodded again, "My fault, that one," he admitted to her. "I was the one that set him loose. I hoped that he had traveled north, to find you. But before he left he killed Father."
"And do you blame yourself for that as well?" Lenora asked, her voice almost teasing.
The right corner of her uncle's lips turned up and he shook his head. "Your mother would," he told her, his voice soft. "But after that farce of a trial, after everything Father put Tyrion through," he paused, his green eyes distant as he thought back to his short time in King's Landing. "I should have known when I set him free that Father's chambers would be his first stop."
Lenora watched him for a moment before she shook her head. "What have we done to each other, Uncle Jaime?" she asked him, her voice quiet and resigned. "My father hurt my mother because she wasn't Lyanna Stark. Mother hurt Father because he wasn't you. Joffrey tried to hurt me because I stood in the way of his claim for legitimacy. Uncle Stannis and Renly fought each other for a throne their nephew sat on. Grandfather arranged for the murder of my husband and then left me to the devices of his murderers. He and Mother hurt Tyrion because he killed Grandmother. He killed Grandfather because Grandfather tried to kill him." Her voice cracked and she looked away from him, shaking her head again. "My family is a broken mess."
Jaime's hands, both of them, fell heavy on her shoulders, he squeezed her right shoulder with his left hand. "But you are not, Lenora."
"I'll have to return," she told him, looking away from him. "Once we take Winterfell back for the Starks. I will have to return to King's Landing. How will I ever look at Mother in the eye? How will I do that now that I know everything that she has done to tear my family apart?"
Something crossed over her uncle's face, something dark and angry that she did not understand. "You don't know it all, doe," he told her, his voice as dark as his look. "And it's best you don't. But know this. She is your mother, there will always be a part of you that loves her. Love her, but don't trust her."
She watched him carefully, "You don't trust her." A statement rather than a question.
Jaime shook his head, his jaw clenched, "I haven't for almost twenty years," he told her, his voice bitter and clipped.
Lenora wanted to ask why, but Bronn interrupted their conversation. "We should get going," he warned the two of them. "You can talk on the road if you must, but we're wasting daylight now."
She smiled at the brunette man and turned back to her uncle. "It's been many moons since I've saddled a horse," she told him, her lips turning up at the corners, her tone teasing. "Could you lend me a hand, Uncle Jaime?"
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide before his lips turned up as well and he laughed, shaking his head, "Funny Len," he congratulated her. "Very funny. Because I only have one, right?"
-.-.-.-.-
Arya
For the first week the group traveled together peacefully. It wasn't until the second week when the harmony between the two Stark sisters and their guardians was broken.
It began when they came upon a recently abandoned camp a ways northwest of Winterfell. Whoever had made camp in the woods had done their best to hide their tracks, but they had been in a hurry, they left enough evidence that the Hound was able to guess at how many had made camp there. Three, he swore. With five horses and a large dog. And which direction they were traveling. Due north.
He suggested that they track the group.
Brienne had argued. They had no reason to track the group, they were headed to Castle Black, why should they follow a group?
For their supplies, the Hound had growled at her as if the woman knight was touched. "No doubt they have more than we do. It will be a long walk North. They have five horses, we have five riders."
Brienne still said no, it wasn't honorable to steal from fellow travelers. Whoever these three were, they were no doubt in as much danger as their own party, it would be dishonorable to take from them. "What sort of example you must have set for Lady Arya while you were on the road together," Brienne had scolded.
"I taught the girl to survive," the Hound shot back. "That's a fair deal more than you've taught the little bird. She'd be dead by tomorrow if you abandoned her."
Sansa had taken offense to that, no matter how true it was, and she and Podrick had sided with Brienne. They would not track these travelers. They would not steal from them. They would continue their own, honorable path to the Wall.
Sansa had turned then, looking toward her sister and waiting for Arya to voice her agreement. They would all go together and leave the Hound to his hunt. But Arya glanced between the two sides of her party and realized that the Hound was right. He had been gruff while they traveled, sometimes even cruel, but he had taught her so much. Brienne was honorable, and she did not doubt that the blonde woman would do everything she could to get the two sisters to Jon at Castle Black, but this world - it belonged to the Hound. He knew how to survive.
She turned back to her sister and shrugged, "We would get to Castle Black faster if we had horses," she told her sister, pointedly ignoring the smirk that slipped onto the Hound's lips when he realized that she had taken his side.
Sansa shook her head, disbelieving. "Arya," she snapped. "You can't be serious."
Arya nodded, she was. "They probably have weapons too," she guessed.
"And how do you prepose we catch them, Lady Arya?" Brienne asked her, hoping to help the girl see reason. "They are on horseback, they could be miles ahead of us."
The Hound shrugged, "The ride is not an easy or comfortable one," he told the woman knight. "They will stop to rest." He gestured toward the abandoned camp. "They stop at night. If we kept moving through the night, we might catch them."
Brienne shook her head, "We will not," she argued.
Arya turned toward Sansa and made eye contact with her sister, she wanted the elder girl to realize just how serious she was. "I'm going with the Hound," she told her sister. "You can come with me or you can stay with Brienne and I will see you at Castle Black. The choice is yours."
"Arya," Sansa gasped, staring at her sister. "How could you? Those people need those horses. They need their weapons. Father would never -"
It was the wrong thing to say. Arya felt her jaw clench, "And Father is dead," she bit out angrily, flinching at her own words. "He lived by a code of honor that does not work in the world the Lannisters created. It got him killed." She looked away from her sister, ashamed at her own words even though she would not take them back. "That is what I have seen honor do. You might not think that this is honorable, but I know it will keep us alive. And I'm going."
She pointedly lifted her chin, holding her head as high as she could as she turned and stepped closer to the Hound, further declaring her position. She turned to face Sansa, waiting for her sister to do what she always did when she did not get her way, to pout and stamp her foot and cry. She was surprised when for a moment Sansa bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth before she nodded and turned to Brienne, her own head held high. "I will be going with my sister and Sandor," she announced.
It was almost enough to make Arya grin, to realize that for once her stubborn, proper sister had listened to her. But the smile quickly slipped from her lips when she remembered what they were going to do. For all of her bluster, she wanted her father to be proud of her, and there was no honor amongst thieves.
...
It took them two nights to find the group, or rather for the group to find them. It seemed that at some point they had realized that they might be being followed and had sent one of the riders doubling back and around the larger group to scout them out.
The scout found them while they were enjoying one of the few rests that Brienne and Sansa had insisted on and that the Hound and Arya had agreed to. He was quiet, the scout, the only clue that he had found them was the quiet slide of steel as he unsheathed his sword and the dark chuckle when he realized that his would be attackers included three women and a boy.
Arya who had been sleeping uneasily since she had left King's Landing awoke with a start, reaching for Needle only to realize that her tiny sword was not next to her as it had been when she had fallen asleep. She sat up, blinking rapidly as she looked around her group and realized that almost all of them were missing their weapons, only the Hound who slept with his sword still belted around his waist had managed to keep his. Podrick, who was supposed to be keeping watch while the others had fallen asleep, was snoring against a tree trunk.
She turned to study the man who had come upon them like a ghost. He was sitting comfortably in his saddle, their weapons across his lap. His skin was dark, tanned by the sun, and weathered as if he had spent a great deal of his time outside. His eyes were a pale blue, his brown hair wispy and windblown. He was whistling a tune that she was unfamiliar with.
Arya stood, kicking the Hound hard in the ribs to wake him up before gently nudging her sister. It would be unfair to let Sansa be captured while she was sleeping. "You've made a mistake," she warned the man, nodding toward the Hound. "He was once the King's personal guard. He's a very good swordsman."
The man raised his eyebrows and nodded, "I know who he is," he told her, "and I know who you are too, Lady Stark." That surprised her, she swallowed a lump in her throat, wondering what the man intended to do with them. The man glanced to his left, toward the trees around them, she turned too, half expecting to see a larger group of men, but there was nothing there, save shadows. "Well, go on then," the stranger told the shadows and the trees. "Go get them."
Arya thought the man insane, speaking to the trees. It wasn't until the almost glowing yellow eyes had disappeared that she realized they had even been there in the first place. The man hadn't been speaking to the trees. He had been speaking to something hiding in them.
The Hound groaned as he woke up, his groan turning to a growl when his eyes landed on the stranger on horseback. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked the man, making no move to attack him.
Arya glanced between the two men, wondering how they knew each other. The man on horseback smiled as he untied a wine sack from around his waist and threw it toward the Hound. The scarred man caught the sack with ease and didn't think twice about opening it and drinking from it. "Saving your pretty face," the stranger told him with a smile.
Sansa sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she turned toward the stranger. For a moment she looked alarmed, but then she smiled. Arya stared, wondering why everyone in her group, including the now awake Brienne and Podrick seemed so calm around this man who had stolen their weapons and could attack them at any time. "Ser Bronn," Sansa called out to the man, her voice a good deal more friendly than the Hound's had been. "What in the Seven Kingdoms are you doing here?"
The man's answer to her was less teasing than it had been to the Hound. "I was escorting a princess to Castle Black," he told them. "She thought you might want to join her."
"A princess?" Arya asked, walking closer to him and impatiently reaching out for Needle now that it seemed that the man was not going to attack them and that they were not going to attack him. "Lenora? You were traveling with Lenora Baratheon?"
The man nodded, handing her his sword and inclining his head, "Ser Bronn," he introduced himself to her. "Hero of the Blackwater, rescuer of princesses, and, owner of a castle, if that damned Lannister is to be believed."
...
Arya was not certain what surprised her more.
When the princess arrived an hour later riding on horseback, followed by her uncle, covered in bruises and thoroughly excited to see the two Stark sisters. Or the direwolf that was following the princess and her blonde Lannister guard. It was Grey Wind, Arya would wager her life on it, but it didn't make any sense. The Freys had sewn Grey Wind's head onto Robb's body, she had seen it, glimpses of it as the Hound had carried her away from the battle at the Twins.
King in the North! King in the North! All hail the King in the North!
She could still hear their words echoing in her head as they cheered and paraded the body around the keep. But over those joy-filled words, and under them too, she could hear another voice, gasping out his last words.
Tell Queen Lenora that I tried. That I found the key, but it was too late. The wolf ran for the woods.
She remembered now, the night she had been trying so hard to bury and forget, the night she had lost both her mother and her eldest brother. Something about that entire night hadn't sat right. The wolf had run for the woods, but the body and the parade had come from the castle. And the head, during the quick glimpse she had been allowed, had looked too small.
"It wasn't him," she whispered to herself as she watched Lenora leap down from her saddle. The wolf moved closer to her, shadowing her as if he refused to let her out of his sight, even here surrounded by people who would not dream of harming her. "It wasn't Grey Wind," she whispered again, turning toward the Hound for confirmation.
The Hound was staring at the wolf too, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Lenora stood in front of Arya and Sansa, her hands fisted in her skirts as if she was forcing them not to reach out to them. Her brows were furrowed, her grey eyes dark with worry and swimming with tears. Her mouth opened and shut, no sound coming out, as if she had a thousand words she wanted to say and didn't know which to say first.
Arya could understand. Her gaze drifting from the large wolf at Lenora's side to the princess and back. Again and again. She had so much she wanted to say, but she did not know which was the most important.
Sansa was the first of the three young women to remember her place. She inclined her head and sank into a deep curtsy, reaching out and pulling Arya clumsily into one as well, "Your Grace," she greeted, remembering her courtesies as she always did.
A mix of a giggle and a sob escaped Lenora's lips and in a rush of fabric from her skirts she rushed the few feet between her and the Stark sisters and dropped down to her knees, an arm around each of them as she hugged them tightly and pulled them down with her.
"Your skirts," Sansa scolded the princess, even as she wrapped both of her arms around the older woman.
"Fuck my skirts!" Lenora whispered harshly, letting go of Arya for a moment so that she could brush away some of the tears in her eyes before her arm fell back around the younger girl, tighter than before. Arya smiled, she had always liked the princess. "You're here?" Lenora asked, pulling away from them, her gaze landing on Sansa's face for a moment before darting to Arya's and studying her as well. "How in the Seven Hells did you find each other?" She shook her head, "How did you find us? Where are you going? Oh you sweet girls, I am so sorry!"
Arya couldn't imagine what the princess was apologizing for. And she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her lips as Lenora let go of her for a moment to cup Sansa's face in her hands as if to make sure that she was real. "You survived my mother," Lenora was whispering to Sansa. "And my brother. I was so worried about you." She let go of Sansa and turned toward Arya, cupping her face in her hands as well, "And you!" she gasped in a whisper. "Where have you been, you little monster?" Her voice caressed the word monster in a way that made it an endearment and reminded Arya so much of Robb that it hurt. "Everyone said that you were dead, but I knew you couldn't be! You were too stubborn for that! Where have you been?"
Before either of them could answer Lenora was pulling them to their feet and brushing away more tears from her eyes. Arya's gaze fell on the direwolf, it was watching her and Sansa with interest, as if making a decision about them. Arya pointed at it, "Where -" she started before she decided that was not the right question. "How -" but that wasn't right either.
Lenora seemed to understand though, she reached her hand out for the wolf and he submissively walked closer to her, inclining his large head so that she could pet it. "He must have escaped the Twins somehow," Lenora whispered, knowing that she wouldn't have to explain what happened there to either of the Stark sisters. They would know. "He's been following me ever since." She glanced up, her grey eyes landing on Jaime and Bronn. "They found him in the Wolf's Wood outside of Winterfell."
Arya nodded, watching as Brienne approached Jaime Lannister. The lady knight, reached for her sword, unsheathing it. For one terrifying moment Arya thought the blonde woman meant to fight the Kingslayer. It was not a fight that she would be opposed to seeing, but she knew that it would upset Lenora, and most likely Sansa, her older sister had told her how Brienne had found her because Jaime Lannister had sent her out to find them.
But Brienne did not attack, instead she turned the sword around, presenting it to Jaime. The blonde man smiled ruefully though he did not reach out for the sword, "Found them both," he whispered to Brienne, his voice heavy with unspoken pride. "Just as you said you would."
"Because you trusted me to keep your word," Brienne counted, still offering up the sword. "This sword belongs to you, Ser Jaime."
Arya watched, waiting for the Lannister to take the sword, the one that had been made from her father's own great sword. His hand didn't even twitch. He shook his head. "It's yours," he told Brienne, his voice even softer than before. "It will always be yours." His gaze lifted from Brienne and fell on Arya and Sansa, "Or the Stark sisters'" he added, his green eyes sparkling as if he knew that Arya was listening to him. "Though I suspect the eldest isn't one to take to sword play and it might a bit large for the smaller one." He winked at Arya, a ghost of the playful confident man she had met at Winterfell a lifetime ago, "Perhaps she will grow into it."
...
She awoke early, as she had become accustomed to with the Hound. Since joining Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick it was usually she and Sandor who woke up first. And then Brienne and Pod. Sansa was always the last one to wake. But not this morning, this morning when she woke Jaime and Lenora were already awake.
They were practicing from the sounds of it. Arya laid there for a moment, her eyes closed listening to the mix of laughter and clashing steel as the two practiced together.
"You've gotten sloppy, Len," Jaime taunted her, laughter coloring his tone.
Lenora laughed back, "So have you, Uncle Jaime!" she teased. "This is much easier than it should be. Keep the tip of your sword up! Up!"
"I lost my sword hand!" Jaime defended himself, some of the laughter leaving his voice. Still, he did not sound as broken as Arya would have imagined.
"And I haven't held a sword in almost a year!" Lenora countered back.
"Turn sideface," Jaime reminded her. "You're too large of a target."
"And you're too heavy on your feet," Lenora laughed. "Balls of your feet, Uncle Jaime! Balls of your feet!"
She sat up, a smile coming to her lips without her permission. The knight and his niece were standing facing each other, their faces were red, smiles on their lips, and eyes sparkling. Ever since she had heard that Joffrey and the rest belonged to Jaime she had focused on how much the three younger children had looked like Jaime Lannister. But now, as she watched the two of them she realized how much Lenora looked like her uncle.
It wasn't in her looks, she was Baratheon in her coloring. It was in her smile. The way she looked most alive when she had a sword in her hand. It was the sparkle in her eyes as they taunted each other playfully, and the strength with which she moved. She was a stag, or doe rather, with the heart of a lion.
Lenora stepped forward on the offensive, about to start fighting again when Jaime held up his hand, stilling her attack. "What is it?" she asked, dropping the point of her sword toward the ground. "Uncle Jaime, what do you hear?"
"A battle," he told her, his voice quiet. "We've found Stannis and Ramsay."
Author's Note:
Boom! Another chapter in the books!
And good news for you guys! I've been telling everyone that this story would have eighty-three chapters, well this chapter and the next were supposed to be combined. But they were larger than I planned. And so .. you get another chapter out of me and this story.
Now there are eighty-four chapters in this story.
So yay! For extra chapters!
Thank you so much my friends for stopping by and reading. Thank you for adding this story to your alerts and favorites lists! But most of all ... thank you for your reviews! You guys are all wonderful!
bellaphant: Yes! I hope you realize how good it makes me feel to hear that I made you cry during the last chapter! That is a huge compliment! So thank you so much! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one as well! (No tears this time! Or maybe tears, that's up to you!)
RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond: I'm happy that you enjoyed the last chapter! Even though it was not the reunion you wanted. Don't worry, that one is coming, I promise! I've got my fingers crossed that you enjoyed this chapter as well!
JanaOliver: Aww! Hopefully the wait between chapters was worth it! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that this one was just as fantastic! As for the Jaime/Robb/Tyrion/Greywind/etc fight against Ramsay ... some of them will be fighting him, but you will have to wait and see which ones! Thank you so much for your review!
RHatch89: Yes, Lenora is finally away from that "fuckety fuck" and on her way to Castle Black! As for Robb's memories, I would assume that now that Lenora is with Grey Wind, he's going to remember a bit more now.
TINABELCHERISMYSPIRITANIMAL: He might still have a crush on Brienne... we'll have to wait and see!
StarkTeller: Oh no! I'm sorry that your super long review got erased! But I'm glad that you stuck around and reviewed again. And I'm even happier that you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope that you enjoyed this one as well!
Different theme songs for different characters, huh? That's actually a really good idea, because different characters feel like certain songs. I should try that next time I sit down to write!
HPuni101: I figured that I had given you guys enough pain that it would be mean to kill Jon and not give you a reunion or two. And I am so glad that you guys enjoyed it! I'm glad that you enjoyed Sansa and Arya's reunion. The show tried to cause drama between them when there was absolutely no reason for it. I tried to fix it with this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
LunaEvanna Longbottom: I'm so glad that you were happy with the last chapter! I hope (even more) that you are happy with this chapter as well! As for your hopes ... Robb might be a bit aways, but clearly the girls weren't that far behind.
Bun: Thank you so much for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Guest1995: That is a good point. With Bran dead, how will they know that Littlefinger was behind the War of the Five Kings. What do I have in mind? Hmmm. You will have to wait and see, won't you? I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one as well, dear!
G1234: I'm so glad that you "love love loved" the last chapter! It means a lot to hear that Lenora's reunion with Jaime brought some tears to your eyes! Be prepared, I imagine there will be a few more tears by the end of the story! Thank you so much for your reviews and support!
Kimberley: Aww! I'm glad that it continues to get better and I hope that this chapter continued the trend! Thank you so much for your review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Falcon Lair: Thank you so much!
purple-pygmy-puff16: I'm so glad that you loved it! I hope that this chapter did not disappoint!
Guest (1): I'm so glad that you're glad that this story is still going! What we're looking at right now is about twelve more chapters, though ... maybe a few more. We'll see.
Guest99: I'm so glad that you found this story as well! Thank you so much for your review! You're perfect!
sltsky96: Oh. My. God! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! And I hope you know how much I enjoyed reading your review. I could feel your excitement! I'm so glad that you are beyond ready for the rest of this story. Because it's coming. You should be ready!
Maddy: I'm glad that you noticed that. Part of me (as the writer) wanted her to throw herself into Jamie's arms and let him take care of her because I knew that throughout the story he had never done anything to betray her or turn away from her. But Lenora didn't know, and as much as I didn't want it, the hesitation felt right. Don't worry about Robb, his next part is coming up in just a chapter or two! (And it's a good one, if I do say so myself!) I so hope that you enjoyed this chapter!
darkwolf76: I felt like everyone was due a happy chapter or two. Me, you guys, the characters. It's GoT so things can't be perfect and happy forever, but they can be for a chapter or two. And you are not the only one who notices the ridiculousness of calling the chapter that starts with Jon dying a breath of fresh air.
I'm glad you ... enjoyed(?) that part of the chapter though. I couldn't keep Olly from helping kill Jon, but I wanted to make it as human as possible. The boy isn't just angry, he's completely broken.
Yeah Arya and Sansa were fluff, but the sisters kind of needed that. And I wasn't about to cause drama with them just for the sake of causing drama. They're allowed to be happy. As for Jamie going along with Lenora's plan to take back Winterfell. I think he realizes that he doesn't have much of a choice. Lenora may be bruised, but she's stronger now than she ever was before. He could tell her no, but she won't listen. Not anymore.
Don't worry, you weren't nitpicky about that part in Lenora's escape. I wanted Lenora to help take part in her won rescue, but I didn't really think it through (no one's perfect, not even me :p) until after I had posted it. Thank you for keeping me honest!
Good prediction for Ramsay's just desserts! I can one hundred per cent say that one of those predictions is completely accurate. But which one? As for your questions, I will try to answer them as best I can without giving too much away. Will Robb and the Brotherhood show up before the BotB? No. But perhaps very soon after.
Don't worry! Robb/Lenora reunion is coming. And it will be good As for the White Walkers, I'm just going to dance around them. But the next story I write ... will be all about the Walkers.
You watched the game with your Grandfather? Nice. Spreading the Cavs love across the country. I like it! I do have some plans for a future GoT/ASOIAF story. It's about Jon post being named KITN. And then, weirdly enough ... there's another one that's a modern AU that I've been playing with during bouts of writer's block which I might publish. So there are a few!
The Dragon Singer: You have finally caught up! Congratulations! Thank you so much for your review!
That's all for now, my friends!
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.