Read. Enjoy. Review. (The reading and enjoying are for you. The reviews are for me!)
I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.
Just casually editing this while making the husband watch Fifty Shades of Grey because I am, as he quotes, "a very mean wife."
But sometimes you just have to watch a really bad movie.
Chapter Seventy-Four: Never Should Have Left
Tyrion
Once he had gotten over his initial shock at seeing the Young Wolf very much alive, even though by all reports he should have been dead; and after Robb Stark had gotten over his initial desire to wrap his hands around Tyrion's throat and strangle him - they moved a bit away from the fire and the men of the Brotherhood so that they could speak.
The young northman seemed torn between glaring at Tyrion and begging him for news. Tyrion wondered what the Brotherhood had told the young man of the current way of the world, he suspected very little.
He knew the boy had questions of Lenora, but he would not give the answers until he asked. It was the only card he had, as far as he was concerned, to keep Robb Stark's hands from his throat and he would play it as long as he could.
"What happened to you?" he asked the surly young man after several long minutes of silence. "You're supposed to be dead."
Robb shrugged his shoulders, somewhat uncertain, "I was," he admitted, his voice as hard as stone. "For almost a week, the way they tell it," he nodded toward the circle of men around the fire, his face darkening.
It was comforting to know that he did not reserve his ire for only Lannisters. If these men were still alive than Tyrion stood a chance. He wanted to ask more, but that was not the way the game was played. If he wanted information he would have to share some. He had asked his question and now it was Robb's turn to ask one of his own. He wondered if it would be about Lenora, or if the sudden reappearance of her uncle in his life would be enough to make it difficult for the young king to say her name.
Robb nodded toward Gendry, the young man was standing awkwardly between the two groups. Dividing his time between glaring at the Brotherhood who had betrayed him and shooting curious looks at the man who had married his half sister. "Who is he?" Robb asked, his blue eyes still locked on Gendry.
Tyrion smirked and took a sip from the wineskin that Thoros of Myr had given him. "That's not the question you mean to ask, boy," he scolded, smirking wider when the boy winced at the word boy. Though he supposed, being dead and then brought back to life awarded a man the right to be upset at being called a child. "You want to know why he looks like her."
The Stark boy dragged his gaze off of Gendry and turned, leveling Tyrion with a glare. He was not in the mood for Tyrion's games, as much as he wanted the man's information. "Fine, Imp," he growled. "Why does he look like her?"
"Because they're siblings," Tyrion told him with a shrug, as casual as he could be, as if he spoke to dead men every day. "Or half siblings. Like you and Jon Snow." He was still watching the boy closely, he noticed how his gaze drifted back to Gendry, as if he could not keep his eyes off of him. He knew that Robb Stark was not interested in men, he attributed it to Gendry being the closest thing that Robb had seen to Lenora since the Twins. "He's one of Robert Baratheon's bastards," he added, in case the boy was slower than he had been the last time they had met.
Robb nodded, his gaze never leaving Gendry's face, "Did he ever meet her?" he asked, his voice quiet and gentle.
Tyrion's jaw clenched, perhaps the boy did not know how the game was played. It was Tyrion's turn to ask a question, not his turn to ask a second. But he would allow it. "No," he told Robb, speaking just as quietly as the wolf beside him. "I'm bringing him to meet her now." He paused for a moment, not long enough for Robb to ask another question, but just long enough to reset. "What do you remember?" he asked.
His brow furrowed. His blue eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. "We were at the Twins," he told Tyrion, his gaze finally leaving Gendry's face so that it could drop to the hands in his lap, they were clenched tightly into fists, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms, Tyrion would not be surprised if he drew blood. "For Edmure's wedding. Frey would not let me have Grey Wind inside." He shook his head, for some reason, that was important. "Everything was going well ... until it wasn't."
"Until it wasn't?" Tyrion echoed, gently nudging the boy to continue telling his tale. "What happened?" He knew what had happened, but he wanted to hear it from the boy. He needed to know exactly what had happened to his niece and how the Stark boy had managed to escape while everyone thought that he was murdered.
He shook his head, drawing on memories that Tyrion would wager he did not think on very often. "We were separated," he whispered. "I had danced with Dacey Mormont and then the bedding ceremony. We stayed behind with many of the Freys and a few of my men. Nora -" he shook his head, his blue eyes filled with a pain that Tyrion had never felt. If he had ever doubted that the Stark boy loved his niece, he could doubt no longer. "Nora was with Smalljon. I told him if anything happened, he was to save her before he came back for me."
"If anything happened?" Tyrion repeated, his brows furrowed. "You didn't trust your bannermen?"
The ghost of a smile played at the corner's of Robb's mouth. Bitter and rueful. "Nora did not trust my bannermen," he told Tyrion. "And Mother. They spent the ride to the Twins cautioning me against trusting the Freys. I took precautions because of them, and I still managed to lose them both."
For a moment Tyrion fancied that he saw tears in Robb Stark's eyes, but the boy blinked them away quickly and shook his head. "The Rains of Castamere started to play and that was when I knew. I was going to lose Lenora and your father had planned it all." He turned to glare at Tyrion for a moment, but there wasn't much heat in it. It was as if he carried most of his anger and hatred for himself when he told this tale. "I hadn't even thought that I would die," he admitted. "I only thought of her. I remember thinking, this is when I lose her."
"And instead she lost you," Tyrion supplied, not very helpfully.
"She knew," Robb admitted to him. "Before I was struck with the first bolt, she knew. She was already fighting against Smalljon, already struggling get to me." He shook his head again, that same bitter ghost of a smile. "She always was smarter than me in the ways of war."
Tyrion had more he wanted to ask. But once again, it was no longer his turn. He stared at Robb, waiting for the boy to meet his gaze and then he nodded, a silent admission that it was now the younger's turn to ask a question.
"They say that Joffrey and your father are dead," Robb told him, not a question. Tyrion nodded, still waiting for what Robb wanted to know. "Who did it?" he asked after a moment.
"I killed my father," Tyrion told him, admitting what he had done out loud for the first time. "I shot him with a crossbow in the privy."
In spite of the seriousness of their conversation Robb chuckled, low and dark. The sound made a tingle run down Tyrion's spine and he wondered if the young king was regretting that he had not been the one to do it. "And the bastard?" he asked.
"I was blamed for it," Tyrion told him. "Though many also blamed your sister, Lady Sansa." He saw the look of dread and panic settle in Robb's eyes and he was quick to reassure him. "She found a way to escape the city before anyone could get their hands on her. Wherever she is now, it's as well kept of a secret as your return."
That did not assure the young man as much as he had meant it to. Robb shook his head, "Arya's lost, Sansa, Lenora. My brothers are dead, my parents." He stopped talking for a moment, turning toward Tyrion and giving the man a look of complete hopelessness. "How will I find any of them?" he asked, his voice breaking. "And how will I make amends when I do?"
"I hardly think you need to make amends," Tyrion told him softly.
Robb shook his head, "I began this war to keep my family safe," he told Tyrion, his voice heavy. "All I wanted was to keep them safe. And then Father died. And the girls were in the capitol. I thought that by keeping Nora at my side -" his voice faltered. He closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. "and I lost her."
Tyrion could have told him that he thought he knew where Lenora was, but he had one last question to ask. Then their game would be finished. "How did you get out?" he asked. "By all reports at the capitol they had chopped off your head and sewn your direwolf's on in its place." He gestured toward the young man standing in front of him. "Obviously that did not happen."
"I crawled," he told him. "And when I couldn't do that, I dragged myself. Bolton left the door open when he carried her out. All I could think of doing was following her. Getting to her. She needed me. I would not fail her. In the chaos no one seemed to notice. Your father had planned it all to kill me, but Walder Frey was enjoying slaughtering my men too much to realize that his prize was quickly disappearing. I made it out of the hall and to a side door, I did not think that Bolton would keep her at the Twins, I thought he'd leave with her so I dragged myself out of the castle." His voice was distant and hollow, he kept sayin I, but he was speaking as if he were talking about someone else entirely. "The Green Fork was flooded," he told Tyrion. "It had been storming all week, made for a miserable march from Riverrun. I dragged myself out the door and found chaos outside, Frey's men were attacking my men outside the keep as well. Grey Wind was howling in his kennel. I had to get away, that was the only way I could save Lenora. I dragged myself to the river, thinking it would carry me far enough down stream that I could escape the Freys."
Tyrion stared at him, surprised at how much the young man had endured, all the while thinking of nothing but Lenora. "And then what happened?" he asked.
Robb was quiet for a moment, the haunted look in his eyes intensifying. "Nothing," he told Tyrion, his voice sounded dead. "Nothing happened. All I can see is a darkness. I heard nothing. I felt nothing. Everything was black and cold, the only thing I can remember are their faces."
"The Brotherhood's?" Tyrion pressed.
Robb shook his head, "Walder Frey," he told Tyrion, his jaw clenching. "Roose Bolton. I saw their faces. My only thoughts were of revenge and darkness." He paused for a moment. "And then there was a light when they brought me back. Bright and warm, and silver. It was Nora, before I could even remember her name. Before I could even remember my name."
He reached out, grabbing the wine sack out of Tyrion's grasp and taking a swig himself. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice harsh. He brought his gaze to land on Tyrion's face and he stared down at him. "I've answered your questions and now you will answer mine. Where is she? They -" he nodded toward the men around the fire. "They say she's south. But if that's the case why are you here?"
"Because she's not," Tyrion told him, his voice gentle and apologetic. The Brotherhood had had the poor boy believing that he was getting closer to Lenora every day, all while dragging him even further away. "Roose Bolton did not return her," he told Robb as the young man continued to drink from the wine sack, draining it of everything it held. "He kept her north. The last I heard he had brought her to Winterfell."
A strangled noise escaped Robb's lips, something between a groan, a sob, and a curse. Tyrion felt horrible for the boy, but he pushed on, that was not the worst of it, and he felt the boy deserved to know everything. "Little birds in the capitol have been telling stories of a lost princess forced to marry a bastard in the Godswood of Winterfell," he told Robb, quoting the last thing Varys had shared with him. "They say Bolton married her to his recently legitimized bastard in a way to solidify his claim over Winterfell. No news has made its way south since then, but there were whispers before. They say the bastard is a monster."
He made the sound again, this time more curse than anything else. He stood, throwing the wine sack to the ground. "And I've been heading south this whole fucking time?" he growled, turning his glare on the men around the fire. "Because of them?" He shook his head, falling back onto the log he had been sitting on. "I knew it," he admitted to Tyrion softly, his head falling into his hands. "I fucking knew it. And they never listened. They never believed."
He sounded very nearly defeated. Something that Tyrion could not allow. He was going to need the Young Wolf's help. It would not do for him to be so defeated. "It's not all lost," he promised the boy. "You know now. And now you have the means to go get her."
"And how will we do that?" Robb asked, turning his glare on Tyrion. "Are they just going to let us leave?"
Tyrion smirked, Gendry hadn't been standing still during his conversation with the Stark boy. The younger boy had moved around the fire quietly, just out of sight. Stealing supplies, weapons, quietly leading horses away. Save the two he and Tyrion had ridden from the capitol, and the one he had saved for Robb Stark. Without saying a word Tyrion nodded toward the three horses, "They won't have much of a choice," he whispered as the young man's eyes fell on the horses. "I left the capitol intent on rescuing my niece. It seems to me that you and I might be of like mind."
-.-.-.-.-
Jon
He had never been more uncertain of anything in his life. Not even as a child at Winterfell, unsure of why Lady Catelyn seemed to hate him so much. He had been killed, murdered by his own men, but now he was alive. He had sworn himself to the Night's Watch until his death, but now that he had come back he was unsure if that freed him from his vows. He still had friends at the Wall, Edd and others, but could they really expect him to stay after his own brothers had stabbed him to death. After Olly ...?
His last official act as Lord Commander had been to hang the traitors, the men who had betrayed the Watch and turned their knives on one of their own. Though they had not deserved it he gave them the chance to say their last words, to find a bit of peace before he sent them into the darkness that he knew was waiting for them on the other side.
"You shouldn't be alive," Bowen Marsh told him, his voice shaking. "It isn't right."
"Neither was killing me," Jon answered, his voice cold. He would not allow the man's fear to soften his heart.
He moved past him to Othell Yarwyck, a brow arched, silently waiting. "My mother still lives at White Harbor," Yarwyck told him, his voice was shaking as well, though there was less fear in his eyes. He knew that whatever happened, he deserved it. "Could you write her? Tell her I died fighting the Wildlings."
That was not up to Jon, he would not be the Lord Commander for much longer. It would not be his decision to lie to Yarwyck's mother or not. He did not much care either way. He moved past him, staring up at Alliser Throne, waiting to see what this man, who had always hated him, would say.
To his credit, Thorne held his gaze when he spoke. His voice did not shake, he did not whimper or beg, or ask that after his death his family was shielded from his treasonous behavior. He did not make excuses. He gave him an explanation. "I had a choice, Lord Commander, betray the Night's Watch or betray you. You brought an army of Wildlings into our lands," his gaze lifted from Jon to look at the Wildlings that were still living at Castle Black at Jon's insistence. "An army of murderers and rapers." His gaze fell back on Jon. "If I had to do it all over again, knowing where I would end up, I pray I would make the right choice again."
Jon nodded, appreciating in some strange way, how Thorne stuck to his beliefs. He would still die for them, but at least as far as Thorne was concerned, Jon had not died for nothing. "I'm sure you would, Ser Alliser," he told the older man - the kindest, most respectful thing that he could say for the man.
Ser Alliser nodded, as if he understood what Jon was saying. Perhaps he did. "I fought. I lost." He paused, nodding again to himself. "Now, I rest. But you, Lord Snow, you'll be fighting their battles forever." He lifted his chin then, he had said his peace and now he was done.
Olly was the last, and the most painful. Jon moved to stand in front of him, hesitating for a long moment before he brought his gaze to the boy's face. Olly had meant so much to him, the decision to include him in this horrible line up had been the most difficult. And a part of him knew that if Olly asked, he would forgive the boy. He would untie his noose and let the boy live. But as he lifted his gaze to the boy's face he was met with a look of such anger, such betrayal, that he knew the boy would never ask. He was not ashamed of his actions, he felt no remorse for tricking Jon and leading him to his death. He was still angry. He would die angry and bitter.
Jon nodded to himself, it was no way to go. The anger and the bitterness. But he could do nothing to save Olly now.
He moved away, turning his back on the four and drawing his sword. He stood for a moment, his back still facing them, panting and then he lifted Longclaw and swung it, cutting the rope and yanking the barrels out from underneath the men, leaving them to hang.
He wanted to keep his back turned, it had been hard enough to look at his former brothers, to look at Olly, and know that he would be the death of them. He didn't want to have to watch it. But he could still remember the words he had whispered to Bran so long ago.
Don't look away, he reminded himself as he turned to watch the men. They will know.
He watched them until they were still, until their mouths hung open and their eyes bulged. Olly was the last to die, not heavy enough to snap his neck when he fell. Some of the Wildlings had stepped forward, grabbing the boy's legs and pulling in an attempt to end his suffering early. Jon would be forever grateful to them.
Once he was sure that they were dead he put Longclaw back in its sheath and turned around. Edd was faithfully standing behind him, his mouth set in a grim line as his dark eyes watched the bodies. "We should burn them," he suggested.
"You should," Jon told him, proud when his voice did not shake. He reached back and took his heavy black cloak off, the one he had worn since he had taken the Black. He handed it to Edd, he felt nothing.
"What do you want me to do with this?" Edd asked.
"Wear it," Jon suggested. "Burn it. Whatever you want. You have Castle Black." He started to walk away, waiting until he had finished climbing down the steps from the makeshift scaffold before he continued. "My Watch has ended."
...
He gave himself a day at Castle Black to pack his belongings, what little he had. He did not know where he was going to go, or what he was going to do. His mind alternated between thoughts of making a life among the Wildlings who now planned on farming the Gift, or traveling further into the Seven Kingdoms, searching every corner until he found out what had happened to each member of his family or traveling to Oldtown and finding Sam.
All three ideas seemed equally good and equally miserable.
"Where are you going to go?" Edd asked him the next afternoon as he stood in the Lord Commander's chambers and watched Jon pack.
"I'll go south," Jon told him, that had been what he had been leaning toward the moment Edd asked. If he were to ask again in a minute, the answer would have changed.
"What are you going to do?" Edd asked.
"Get warm," Jon joked.
Edd did not appreciate the joke. "How can you leave us?" he asked, moving closer to Jon and staring him down. "How can you leave me?"
"How can I stay?" Jon countered, an equally difficult question.
"You swore a vow," Edd reminded him.
"Aye," Jon agreed. "I pledged my life to the Night's Watch. I gave my life."
"For all night's to come!" Edd fired back.
"They killed me, Edd!" Jon yelled, turning on him. "My own brothers! You expect me to stay after that?" His decision to leave had come so easily the day before, but now it felt harder. It sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, his chest tightened as he thought it. From the moment he had understood what he was as a child, a bastard, he had thought of nothing else save the Night's Watch. The place where a bastard could hope to rise as high as Lord Commander. These men had been his family. And even though he had killed the ones who had betrayed him, he could not look at them the same way anymore. They were all tainted.
Edd looked as though he meant to argue when the horn sounded. On instinct, Jon grabbed Longclaw as they both turned toward the door.
Once for riders, he thought as he heard the men's cries. The orders to open the gate. They weren't opening the northern gate, but rather the southern one. The riders came from the kingdoms. He followed Edd out of the chambers and toward the courtyard. They had not been expecting any new recruits. He wondered who had traveled so far.
There were five horses, six riders, and a wolf. A large one with grey fur and yellow eyes. Behind him he heard Ghost whimper. He watched as they rode in, the largest woman he had ever seen in front, dressed in armor like a knight. She was followed by two horses. One held a single rider, young and small, her hair red. The other held two women, or rather, one woman and a girl. Both with dark hair, one's cut short, and the other's braided and thrown over her shoulder, escaping from under the hood she wore pulled over her face. Slightly back and on either side of the women riders were two more male riders. A young one with chubby cheeks and armor riding to the redhead's left. And a blonde man, wearing Lannister red and gold armor to the right of the two girls.
The wolf took up the rear.
Involuntarily Jon felt his hand clench into a fist as his eyes locked on the Lannister as the riders continued into the courtyard. The redhead looking around, as if searching for someone. He dragged his gaze from the Lannister and stopped in his tracks when he finally looked at the redhead.
She looked just like her mother. She always had, though now, as her blue eyes sought him out, there was a softer look about her face, one he had never seen at Winterfell.
"Sansa," he whispered as he started to walk down the stairs, forcing himself not to run, lest this were some trick of his mind and she was not truly there.
His steps quickened a moment later when he heard a childish yell. The smallest girl had thrown herself from behind her companion, tripping as she hit the ground. One of the Wildlings in the courtyard moved forward to help her right herself, but she was already standing, rushing toward him on stumbling feet. "Jon!" she yelled as he recognized the impossibly thin sword that was belted around her waist. "Jon!"
"Arya!" he called back, his voice breaking. In the many times he had imagined finding his sisters, he had never in his wildest dreams thought that they would ride to Castle Black to find him.
There were tears in Arya's eyes as she threw herself at him, launching herself into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as her hands clutched at his leather jerkin. Trusting him to catch her. He laughed, tears clogging his throat, their audience be damned. It was just so like Arya. She never did things half way. Everything was done with her whole heart, even reuniting with her bastard half brother leagues away from where she should have been.
He caught her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and squeezing her even more tightly for good measure. She kept saying his name over and over again - half chant, half prayer. Alternating between laughing happily and crying into his shoulder.
"Jon," she cried when she finally unwrapped her legs from around his waist and allowed him to lower her to the ground. They both kept their arms around each other, as if afraid to let go. "Jon! Everything's a mess! He has Winterfell. And Robb's dead. We had to find you! We had to."
At the word we, Jon looked up again, his eyes searching for Sansa. The blonde woman dressed as a knight and the young boy had climbed from their saddles. The boy had helped Sansa down, she was standing no more than ten feet away from him, her hands knotted in front of her, watching him uncertainly.
Jon squeezed Arya one more time and dropped a kiss on the top of her head before he pulled himself out of her arms. He did not let go of her, instead he dragged her with him as he began walking toward Sansa. To his right the two large wolves were play fighting, standing on their hind legs, batting at each other and snarling. There was no bite to it though, no matter how the men stared at them fearfully. This was a game they had played since birth.
He would remind himself to wonder at Grey Wind's survival later.
He paused when he and Arya were less than two feet away from Sansa. She had always treated him so coldly at Winterfell, he thought his heart would break if she continued to do so now. They were all they had left. She watched him for one long moment before she sobbed and threw herself into his arms with reckless abandon, much like Arya. He caught her too, with one arm, pulling her closer to him as he yanked Arya in too, hugging both of his sisters to him as if he could not breathe without them.
He felt Sansa's tears warm on his neck and he opened his eyes, looking toward the last two riders.
The Lannister knight had dismounted and walked over to the last horse, helping the girl down with much care. He had not known her long, but he knew her too, as the dark haired woman reached up and lowered her hood. He was met with warm, silver eyes and a face that was covered in bruises and cuts.
He nodded to her, silently thanking his brother's wife for whatever she had been through to return his sisters to him.
...
Lenora left him and his sisters alone for the afternoon. Not wanting to intrude on their reunion. Apparently she had arrangements to make, horses and medical supplies, and a large cart to send south to rescue a group of men she had left somewhere between Winterfell and Castle Black.
She finally came to him, still dressed in breeches and a shirt, though she had taken off her ill fitting armored vest, after the girls had fallen asleep.
Jon couldn't bear to let them out of his sight, when Arya had started to yawn he had suggested they take the bed in the Lord Commander's chambers. Sansa had tried to argue, it was his bed, she had told him. But Jon had already picked Arya up and carried his young sister over, tucking her gently into the bed and putting an end to all of Sansa's arguments.
She had knocked quietly on the chamber door and hesitated in the doorway once he had opened it. It was as if she was worried that he wouldn't want to see her. He had smirked at her ridiculous worry and grabbed her arm, pulling her not only into the chamber, but to his chest so that he could wrap his arms around her. She had brought his sisters back to him, the only family he had left. He would never not want to see her.
As his arms settled around her she winced, almost pulling away from him before she took a deep breath, calming herself, and moved closer to him, wrapping her own arms around him. They stood for a moment, wrapped around each other, he could have sworn that he felt her shaking in his arms. But then she pulled away from him, her head turning toward his sleeping sisters, she reached up, brushing at her face. "They've been through a lot to get here," she told him, her voice little more than a whisper.
His brows furrowed as he looked at her. The firelight was dancing on her skin. He could still see the bruises and cuts on her face. There was a handprint bruised into her neck, slashes on her collarbones. "You've been through a lot to get them here," he told her, gratitude seeping into his words, warming them as he looked at her.
The corners of her lips twitched, a flash of a bitter smile before they turned down again. "It was the least I could do," she told him, moving closer to the fire and sitting down in one of the chairs in front of it. "After ..." her voice faded, she couldn't say the words.
Jon followed her, sitting in the second chair and leaning forward, getting as close to her as he could. "You are not to blame for what has happened to my family, Lenora," he told her, keeping his gaze locked on her face, hoping she could read how much he meant it in his eyes.
The ghost of a grimace reappeared and she looked away from him. "What happened to you?" she asked, her voice still quiet. "I heard some of the men talking today. They talk about you like you're some sort of god. One of them told me that you died and you came back to life?" She laughed, short and bitter and unbelieving. "I had never thought the Night's Watch would believe in fairytales."
Jon stood from his chair and grabbed a horn and pitcher of ale from the desk. If they were going to have this conversation, he was not going to do it completely sober. "I'm no god," he told her bitterly as he poured ale into the horn. "But I was dead."
She turned to him sharply, her eyebrows raised. She shook her head, "I don't understand,"
He sighed, he still didn't understand either. He wasn't sure if he ever would. "I don't either," he told her, his voice cracking. And then slowly, cautiously he told her what had happened to him, everything. His time north of the Wall with the Wildlings, how he had let the Wildlings pass through to farm the Gift. She didn't ask any questions, the entire time, she sat beside him, watching him him and waiting for him to get to the part of the story that she was most confused by.
"And the worst part is," Jon told her after he had explained that Olly had tricked him to go to the courtyard by telling him that they had found someone who knew his uncle. "The worst part is that after they stabbed me I couldn't be angry at any of them. I lay in the snow, bleeding to death and I saw their damn side of it. I thought that it wasn't such a bad place to die."
Lenora watched him carefully for a long moment. "They stabbed you?" she asked, her voice slow - making each word its own sentence.
She wasn't judging him, her voice was too soft for that. Her grey eyes had a far away look in them, distant and haunted. She was thinking about Robb. Jon cursed quietly, Robb had been stabbed as well. he hadn't though about that when he told her his story. He hadn't realized what kind of history he would drag up. "Nora," he started, "I'm so-"
She shook her head, silently interrupting his apology. "What was it like?" she asked him. Her already pale skin seemed even paler in the firelight. "What do you remember?"
It was the question everyone asked him if they believed that he had been brought back to life. They all wanted to know what he had seen and heard. He always felt like he was disappointing them, but he had never felt that way so much so as now. He knew she wanted him to tell her that there was some great place that people went after they died, she needed to hear it so that she could imagine Robb there. But he would not lie to her. He sighed, "I don't remember anything," he told her. "It was dark and cold. I was there, but I wasn't. I wasn't anywhere until she brought me back." He paused this was where he always had trouble. He could talk about the men stabbing him, but he didn't like to talk about coming back. "She said that I was brought back for a reason," he shook his head, "I don't know what to do now," he told her, turning to look at her, his brows furrowed, silently asking her what she thought.
She watched him for a long moment, quiet, and then she shrugged her left shoulder, "I suppose you go out there and you find out what that reason is," she told him, her voice soft and gentle.
He smirked, it sounded very familiar to what Davos had told him. Go out and fail again.
She was still watching him, "Have you told the girls?" she asked him, nodding toward the bed without looking in its direction.
Jon shook his head. "I don't know how to yet," he admitted to her. "And even if I did. You brought them here to feel safe. I can't tell them here. It will only make them feel more unsafe than they already do."
She nodded, her grey gaze still locked on his face. After a moment she shook her head. "You are the only person I could hear this from and believe it," she told him, her grey eyes still never leaving his face. "But you -" she shook her head again, finally looking away from him. Tears filled her grey eyes.
He knew what she was thinking. She liked him, she was happy that he was alive. But there was a part of her that was heartbroken. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he had died and somehow come back, but that Robb had been stolen from her and would never return.
"I'm sorry about Robb," he told her, reaching out for her hand.
She smiled ruefully, "You are the last person who needs to say that," she told him, her voice heavy with the tears that still swam in her eyes. "He was your brother."
"And your husband," Jon told her. She looked away from him as if she was ashamed. "Sansa told me about Bolton," he told her, he was careful not to let the anger he felt rising in his chest enter his voice, he didn't want her to think that he was angry at her. "Lenora, he wouldn't blame you for anything."
She still wouldn't look at him, her gaze was locked on the fire in front of them, some of her dark hair had escaped her braid and was laying on her cheek, partially covering a dark bruise across her cheek bone. His jaw clenched, he would have been angry if a man had treated any woman the way he imagined Ramsay Bolton had treated Lenora, but she was his brother's wife, Robb had loved her and Jon had loved her because Robb had loved her.
His brother was no longer there to protect her. It was now up to Jon.
"What did he do to you, Lenora?"
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
"What did he do to you, Lenora?"
His voice rumbled like a storm was raging deep inside of him; it was low and soft and yet it held the power to send chills running up her spine. She knew that Jon would never hurt her, but in that moment he sounded dangerous. His words crashing like a wave through the room until it was the only thing she could hear.
She turned away from the fire, glancing at him. He still held a horn of ale in his hand. She reached out for it. She had not judged him when he had needed the liquid courage to tell her what had happened to him and she would not allow him to judge her when she needed it as well.
He arched a brow at her, but handed it over. "I don't know if you can handle it," he teased her.
She shook her head, "I am the daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister," she told him, smiling bitterly at the thought of her parents. "I have yet to meet a type of alcohol that I can't handle." She was confident, but when she took a sip of the ale she coughed, sputtering as it burned its way down her throat and settled warm and heavy in her stomach, the flask she had shared with Bronn after he and her uncle had rescued her had been the worst she had ever tasted, and this made that taste sweet as honey.
Jon smirked and nodded, laughing. "You'd think after a thousand years the Night's Watch would have figured out how to make a good ale," he told her, reaching for the horn again.
She did not give it up. The ale was awful, but it was all they had. And she needed it. She had not come to see him with the intention of telling him what had happened to her. All she had wanted to do was tell him that she would help him retake Winterfell if he wanted it. But he had asked. And there had been something in his voice that made her consider telling him.
She still hadn't shared it all with Jaime. She wasn't certain if she ever would. He would blame himself for it, internalize it, and spend his life worrying about how he could make it up to her. He would try to fix it. She didn't want him to feel guilty, the only one to blame for her mistreatment was the man who had done it. She didn't want him to fix it. She wanted someone who would listen. And she thought that perhaps, that was what Jon would do. Listen.
It didn't make it easier though.
He seemed to understand that she planned to tell him, and was only struggling with where to start because he did not pressure her. He did not ask her again. He sat beside her, quietly staring into the fire and waiting.
"I should have know that Lord Bolton meant to marry me to his bastard," she told him, her voice cracking a bit. She winced, the last thing she wanted was to sound weak and broken. "Why else would he have kept me instead of returning me to my family? Why else would he have been so focused on legitimizing Ramsay? Why would he bring me to Winterfell?"
"You couldn't have seen it," Jon argued with her. "It is so far outside the realm of expected behavior."
She arched a brow at the drinking horn in her hand and took another swig. "Because murdering your king at a wedding is inside of that realm?" she asked him bitterly. She shook her head. "I should have seen it. Perhaps I did, and I just did not want to admit it to myself. I kept waiting for Lord Bolton to realize it was ridiculous, I kept waiting for someone to come rescue me, I kept waiting for -" she cut herself off and shook her head.
"Robb," Jon said quietly, finishing her sentence. "You kept waiting for Robb."
She nodded, "I did," she agreed. "And by the time that I realized that no one was coming for me. Not Robb, not any of my uncles, not my brother, not my grandfather, not even my mother. By the time I realized that it was too late. I was at Winterfell and completely at the Boltons' mercy."
He watched her, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Didn't you think of running?" he asked her. His voice was soft like silk. He didn't want her to think that he was judging her. He was curious.
She nodded, "I did," she whispered, a distant memory of an ill planned run through the Wolf's Wood. "Before we left the Dreadfort. He caught me." She shook her head, still trapped in the memory of that day. "That was the first time the bastard hit me," she told him. He had hurt her, but looking back on it he had been far more gentle that day than he had been once they were married.
"But not the last," Jon guessed, his dark eyes dancing over her face.
"He was more careful with my face back then," she told him, trying to make light of everything that had happened to her, "I had to look beautiful for our wedding." The look on Jon's face was dark, stormy, he would not take her story lightly. She took another swig of ale before she continued, it was going down easier now, a sure sign that she had had too much. But she kept drinking. "We were married in the Godswood at Winterfell," she told him, the words spilling out of her with more ease now. She hadn't wanted to share her story with him, but now that she was she could not stop it. "There weren't many witnesses, those who lived at Winterfell, a few lesser Northern Houses that were loyal to the Boltons, the children whose lives he had threatened to get me to play my part -"
Jon growled, low and deep in his throat. And for a moment he reminded her so much of Grey Wind that she stopped speaking, turning to look for the wolf. He was curled in the corner with his white brother, his golden eyes fixed on her face, but he seemed calm enough; sure that here, at least, she would be safe.
"Did he ever -" Jon started, his voice fading before he could finish his question. But she didn't need him to finish it, she knew what he meant.
"Force himself on me?" she finished for him since he was having so much trouble. She shook her head. "We were married for forty nights before I got away. And for forty nights he was unable to touch me." She told him how she had cut Ramsay with his own knife on their wedding night, how she had kept him at bay by laughing at him and humiliating him.
"How did you get away?" Jon asked when she was done. He was looking at her differently now. There was still pity in his dark eyes, but there was a sort of respect too.
"He left Winterfell to fight Stannis," she told him. "He was so certain that he would succeed, he left a skeleton force behind. The night he left Theon came to my chambers and helped me escape. I wanted him to come with me, but -" she shook her head, still uncertain of why Theon had chosen to stay. She suspected that Ramsay would know that it had been his once faithful prisoner who had helped her. "He told me to head north, to find you. The few men that Ramsay had left behind tracked me, they found me the next afternoon. I was not going to go back. I was prepared to die when Bronn, Jaime, and Grey Wind arrived. I thought they were ghosts. I thought Robb and Grey Wind were there to help me die. Instead it was my uncle, a sellsword, and the wolf there to help me survive."
Jon shook his head, chuckling, "I never thought I would be grateful for a Lannister," he told her, his gaze drifting toward where his sisters still slept in the bed. "But they're here because of you. And you're here because of him."
"And Theon," she reminded him.
He shook his head again, this time he did not laugh. "I will never be grateful to him," he told her, his voice dark and heavy again. "No matter what he did to help you. A little good does not cancel out all the bad."
"He didn't kill the boys," she told him realizing that Sansa and Arya must have left that part out during their reunion. She couldn't think of why they would, perhaps too happy to be with their brother to bring up the bad news. "He faked it, with two peasant boys. Bran and Rickon escaped."
"They're still alive?" Jon asked, turning to look at her with wide eyes.
She looked down at her lap, maybe this was why the girls hadn't told him. She had gotten his hopes up. At best one of them was alive. "Not Bran," she told him, still looking at her lap. Kill the cripple. "One of the smaller northern Houses, trying to curry favor with Ramsay and Roose, they found Bran and brought him to Winterfell. For the first time since the Godswood he let me out of my chambers, brought me down to the hall and gave me just enough time to recognize Bran before he had one of the Karstarks slit his throat." She glanced up at Jon, expecting anger, she saw nothing but regret. "I'm so sorry, Jon," she whispered, shaking her head. "I should have just left them both dead."
Jon shook his head, "No," he told her, his voice firm in spite of the look on his face. "It was good that you told me. I needed to know." His gaze fell to the fire in front of them. "We never should have left Winterfell," he whispered, his gaze darting to her for a moment. "Any of us."
"Where will you go?" she asked him after a long moment.
His gaze drifted to his sisters and then back to her, "Where will we go?" he corrected her.
"That's what I meant," she told him, "where will you and the girls go?" She hoped that he would say he Winterfell back, that was why she was there.
"And you," Jon told her, his fervent gaze never leaving her face. "If I don't watch over you Robb's ghost will come back and murder me."
She smiled softly, Jon had always been ridiculously honorable. Now was not the time for her to tell him that she did not plan on staying in the North, or with him and the girls. There would be plenty of time for that, after they had taken Winterfell back. "There's only one place I can think of to go," she told him, watching him carefully. "Home." She hoped that he understood that she felt Winterfell was her home as much as his.
He scoffed, grabbing the drinking horn from her hand and downing the rest of it in one long pull. "Should we tell Ramsay to pack it up and leave?" he asked, mocking her.
She didn't let it phase her, "We'll take it back from him," she deadpanned.
He stared at her, as if suddenly realizing that she was serious. "I don't have an army."
"I have eighty men," she told him. "They're injured, but on the mend. How many Wildlings did you let past the Wall?"
He shook his head, "They didn't come here to serve me," he told her. "They were free beyond the Wall, they will be free here as well."
"And do you think they will be safe with Ramsay Bolton acting as Warden of the North?" Lenora snapped at him. "Do you think they'll be free?" She stood up, walking away from him. "The least you could do is ask them. There's got to be some Houses in the North that are still loyal to the Starks. Ask them too."
"And if they all say no?" Jon asked her bitterly. "What then? Do we take your eighty injured men and fight with them?"
"If we have to," Lenora answered, turning to look at him.
"Lenora," Jon whispered, trying to get her to see reason.
"Winterfell is your home," she interrupted him, her voice burning as much as the ale had. "It's yours. It's mine. It's Sansa and Arya's. And Rickon's wherever he is. It belongs to the Starks." She stared at him for a moment, hedging her bets. "There must always be a Stark at Winterfell," she reminded him. "You have to fight for it."
"I'm tired of fighting," Jon growled at her, standing and turning to face her fully. "That's all I've done since I've left home. I've killed Brothers of the Night's Watch. I've killed Wildlings. I've killed men that I admired. I hanged a boy! Younger the Bran." He paused, his chest heaving as he breathed. "I fought," he told her, his voice much softer now, all the fight gone from his body. "I lost."
She stared at him, realizing now that he was so much more broken than she had imagined. More broken that perhaps she was. He was afraid. He had the right to be, perhaps, but she could not allow it. She took a step closer to him. "If we don't take back the North, you will never be safe," she warned him, her gaze drifted to Arya and Sansa, "they will never be safe. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for them."
He watched her for a moment, "Why is it so important to you?" he asked her.
She turned away from him, "My family has taken so much from you," she told him. "They've taken so much from everyone in Westeros. It's time I start giving it back." She turned back. "I want you to help me," she told him, "but I will do it myself if I have to."
He stared at her for a long moment, "Gods," he whispered. "You mean it don't you?" She did not answer, she did not nod. She stood, staring at him, willing him to see the truth. He sighed, "Seven Hells," he cursed. "I'll have to help. Someone has to protect you from Ramsay."
She smiled at him ruefully, "Forgive me Jon," she told him, shaking her head. "But I am done letting men protect me. It's time I fight my own battles."
Author's Note:
What? Two chapters in one week? It's been a while since I've done that!
It's because I was so excited about this chapter. And also because you guys are so completely wonderful, I had to give you another chapter before I head off to work tomorrow.
I hope you enjoyed it. This chapter has been a long time coming. And I sincerely hope that I did it justice. You'll have to let me know.
Anyway, thank you for stopping by and reading. Thank you for adding this story to your alerts lists, your favorites, your communities. But most of all thank you for your wonderful reviews! They give me life during my ridiculously long work weeks!
RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond: Go Queen Lenora! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one just as much! You were right, their reunion was in this chapter and I hope that I did it justice!
bellaphant: Thank you so much for your review! I'm so happy that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one as well! Things are finally starting to look up for Lenora and co. And Robb too. I'm so happy that everyone is so happy about Tyrion and Robb. I didn't know I needed them in my life until I decided that they were going to meet up and then it was all I wanted. So it's nice that other people like the odd combination as well!
sltsky96: I got you right in the feels? Good! I meant to!
I'm glad that you enjoyed the Jaime/Arya interaction. I had to do something for them because even though Arya is softer in this story than in the series, there is no way she would happily travel to the Wall with Jaime Lannister without saying something. I was terrified that I was going to do it wrong. So I'm glad that it worked out.
BotB is one of my favorite episodes! And I have been excitedly waiting to write that chapter since I started this story. So fingers crossed it will be good!
StarkTeller: I'm glad that Lenora's speech got you hyped! That was the intention and I'm glad that it worked! She was in the dark, a bit lost after everything that had happened to her with the Bolton's, but after the last chapter she has found her purpose again. And I'm really excited for her!
I really like Robb broody and darkish too. I want to keep him like this forever. But eventually he's going to get a bit of a happy ending and he won't be so dark anymore. Until then, I'll have fun with him though!.
You caught the link. Three children who have now grown up and are becoming what they were meant to be.
I youtubed the speech you were talking about. It's really good. Like really good. I know nothing about the characters, but that speech was so good.
RHatch89: Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed it!
Padfottette: I'm glad you loved it! I hope that you loved this chapter as well!
HPuni101: I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. There were some major developments for everyone in it. As for Jaime telling Lenora about Cersei ... he might not be the one who tells her. It might be someone else. Someone that will be a bit more ... gut wrenching.
Yeah. I'm not a fan of Dany so much on the show anymore. I wanted to like her, but she's a bit too much like her father sometimes and I'm not a fan.
Guest(1): Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Guest1995: I'm really excited for when Lenora and Gendry meet. She's been without any Baratheon family for so long that I really cannot wait for her to learn she has a brother.
As of this chapter Robb is officially Northbound. Finally headed back where he belongs and not soon enough. He's allowed the Brotherhood to pull him south for too long.
I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!
JanaOliver: I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! It was pretty jam packed with a lot of exciting things for all of our favorites. And I like to think that this chapter was just as full of exciting things. Hopefully you enjoyed it!
BigWilly526: He is one of the best to have around. I love that guy a lot, so you'll be seeing a bit of him!
LunaEvannaLongbottom: Those are my favorite surprises! The ones you don't know you want in your life until you have them. And then you realize that is exactly what you needed. You didn't have to wait too long for the Stark reunion at Castle Black. I couldn't wait a week to get it out to you guys. I was too excited!
darkwolf76: And like an hour after I messaged you fanfiction stopped being glitchy and I was able to see the whole thing. Thank you so much for your kind words. They really mean a lot! And I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm pretty sure that it is going to go down in history as the best chapter I have ever written. Everything just flowed and connected so perfectly. I don't know if I'll ever top it, really.
I'm happy that I was able to provide you with some inspiration for your story. I know how much writer's block sucks, so I am more than happy that I was able to help you in whatever way I could.
You can make a request and I hope that I was able to fulfill it even a little bit. It always bothered me on the show that they completely glossed over it between Sansa and Jon, but at the same time I can see how they didn't want to eat up too much time showing the same conversation over and over again. But I wanted to show a bit of it between Lenora and Jon. As for Jon and the girls, that will wait until Winterfell. (And perhaps even until Robb makes his reappearance.
Guest (2): Here's me hoping that ignoring studying for you physics midterm didn't set you back too far! But I am thrilled that you enjoy this story as much as you do! I'm right there with you, I wish Len was on the tv shows as well. Thank you so much for your review!
Guest (3): Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Falcon Lair: Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed it!
Bjm: I hope I didn't make you wait too long for the update!
Guest (4): I'm so glad you are happy that Robb is back! I am happy too!
bluefalcon0207: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you are enjoying this story so far and I hope that you continue to do so!
WildThing: Aww! I'm so glad that you're enjoying the story so far! And that you are liking Lenora! It means a lot to me to hear that! OCs are a bit of a risk. I hope you enjoyed the Stark reunion!
Gamemaster77: I'm so happy that you enjoyed the last chapter! I'm glad that you understood how Lenora was feeling when she learned about Stannis. Not that I think she would have done anything to Brienne anyway, but she was too drained to do anything to her. And too tired of all the shit happening in the seven kingdoms to think of anything besides trying to fix it.
Arya would make an excellent addition to the Queensguard! That's a thought! That I really like! As for your question about Sansa and Arya, they do know. I just didn't show that conversation because there were other things that I found more important (which almost seems ridiculous, but such is Game of Thrones.)
I'm glad that you're enjoyed Tyrion, Gendry, and Robb. There's going to be quite a bit of them in upcoming chapters. Gendry and Robb are going to have a lot of questions for each other, you are right about that. I think I'm going to tell that in Tyrion's POV, I can just imagine his sarcastic mental quips as he listens to them!
That's all I've got for now friends!
Thank you so much!
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.