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Shorter chapter today, but definitely a lot happening in it.
Also ... please don't hate me ...

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Too Late

Cersei

There had been no news from the North, not since the Red Wedding. The Boltons had taken over Moat Cailin and tightened their control over everything between it and the Wall. It was worse now than during the Battle of the Five Kings. At least then there had been spies in the North, Lannister sympathizers willing to send news.

Now there was nothing.

She had sent Jaime north to find Lenora. She had no idea if he made it. She had no idea if he had found her. She had no idea if Lenora was even alive.

She had once believed that a mother would always know if something happened to her children, even if they were far away and out of her reach. She had thought that she would feel it, that she would sense that they were in danger and that even if she was unable to get to them, she would feel the loss of them if they died.

It was a bond. Just like the one that she and Jaime had once shared.

They were once a part of her, all four of them. They had spent nine moons in her womb, listening to her voice, getting stronger every day. They were hers. And even once they were born, there was nothing like the bond between a mother and her child. She was certain she would feel it when it was broken.

She had felt it with Joffrey after all.

So when she sent Jaime after Lenora she was certain that her daughter was still alive. She had to be because Cersei had not felt the loss.

But that was before she had received the news from Dorne.

When she had heard that a raven had come from Dorne she had thought for a moment that it was Myrcella. When the imp had first sent her to Dorne Myrcella had written to her every day, the little girl was so homesick and scared. She was too young to go, and even she knew it, though she tried to be brave and act like a princess should. As she spent more time there the ravens came less frequently, one a week and they told of the water gardens and what she thought of Trystane. She liked him, more than Cersei was comfortable with.

Then the ravens began to come once a month. They were shorter, she was no longer homesick. She was writing because she felt it was her duty as Cersei's daughter and not because she actually wanted to write to her mother. Cersei had not received a raven last month, she feared that her daughter was finally slipping away from her.

Still, she rushed to her chambers when she was told of the raven. She would take whatever she would get from her children. It was what it meant to be a mother.

But something was wrong, she knew it the moment she saw the raven scroll. It was sealed, not with Myrcella's crowned stag sigil, but with the Martell's sun and spear. When she picked up the scroll it was heavier than it should have been.

With shaking hands she broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. A familiar golden necklace fell into her hands. She closed her hand around the pendant as her vision blurred, making it difficult for her to read the words. They didn't make sense. She had to read them three or four times before she could make sense of them.

A fever. Sudden and cruel. Myrcella had been there, sitting in the water gardens, bright and alive. The next day she had a fever. And then she was gone. They hadn't even had time to send her a raven before she succumbed to the illness. They had buried her by the time the raven made it to King's Landing.

"Lies," she murmured to herself as she dropped the scroll on her desk. That was all it was. Lies. She was certain of it.

She called for her hand maiden as she paced back and forth behind her desk, still clutching the pendant. "Send for my children," she ordered the woman without looking up when the young woman entered the room. "Send for Joff, for Lenora, and Tommen. I need to speak to them." The girl began to nod, but then she hesitated, her brows furrowed. "Gods, but you're a slow one!" Cersei hissed at her, finally turning her gaze on the girl. "I told you to fetch my children. I need to speak to them!"

"Your Grace," the girl said, her voice shaking. "I - I c-can't."

"You - you c-can't?" Cersei echoed, cruelly mocking the girl's stutter. "You're useless too then! Why can't you?"

"Your Grace?" she asked, dropping her gaze and speaking slowly. "King Joffrey is dead. He has been dead for many months. And Princess Lenora is -"

"Dead?" Cersei echoed, quietly.

"Not Princess Lenora," the handmaiden quickly told her meaning to comfort her. "She's -"

"Married to a traitor and betraying the crown," Cersei finished for the girl. She nodded. "She's married to Robb Stark and marching south against her brother. She was ungrateful even as a child." She shook her head, "If only -"

"If only what, Your Grace?" the girl asked, she was breathless now. Eager to please, but still too slow for Cersei's liking. She still had not left to fetch the children yet.

"Nothing!" Cersei snapped at her. She shook her head, "If you can't fetch my children, then fetch my brother and my father. I need to speak to them." She nodded, that sounded better. She should tell them first, then they could all tell the children.

The girl's gaze dropped to the floor, "I can't, Your Grace," she whispered.

"And why not?" Cersei snapped at her, her hand closing around the stem of a wine goblet. She lifted it to her lips and emptied the cup in one sip while she waited. The girl did not speak. Cersei sighed as she poured herself another glass of wine. "Why not?" she asked again.

"Ser Jaime hasn't been seen in the capitol for months," the girl whispered. "No one knows where he is. And Lord Tywin -"

"Do not tell me that he has left too," Cersei commanded, her voice soft and dangerous. "He is Joffrey's hand, his duty is to be here and help him rule. Send for my father, now."

The girl looked terrified. As well she should. As soon as Cersei spoke to her father about they should tell the children about Myrcella she would put the girl out on the city streets. She was too slow, too useless to be of any service to the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She would have to go. Cersei turned from her, ignoring her ill-performed curtsy to pour more wine in her glass, she emptied the cup in one long pull. Her back was still turned, pouring a second glass of wine when she heard the door to the chamber shut behind the girl as she left, finally doing as she was bid.

"We'll tell Lenora first," she whispered to herself, pacing as she sipped her wine. It was right, Lenora was the eldest child, and she had cared so much for her younger sister. She would also be able to help Cersei tell Tommen, the youngest boy was still so attached to his eldest sister. The news would come best from her. She could still remember him, the night that Stannis attacked King's Landing, clutching her flower crown in his hand as she told him the story of the little lion in the King's Wood.

She took another sip of wine, "No," she told herself, shaking her head. They couldn't tell Lenora first. She was no longer in King's Landing, no longer with her family where she belonged. She was in the North with the traitor, helping him betray her brother. The girl had always claimed that her family was important to her, but she had married the Stark boy and turned her back on them. "No doubt she will celebrate when she learns the news of her sister," Cersei added, her voice hard as she finished her glass of wine, pausing in her pacing just long enough to refill her glass before she continued.

Lenora was dead to her.

Joffrey then, he would be the first one they would tell, she decided as she took a long sip from her glass. "It's only right." Even if Lenora had still been in King's Landing, it was only right that they tell Joff first, he was the king after all. He should get the news first and then together they would tell Tommen.

Perhaps even Jaime would help. She knew that of all her children, Lenora was her brother's favorite, and she knew that he and Joff would often butt heads. But even Jaime could not hate Tommen, the boy was so soft, so innocent. And so was Myrcella, no matter how much Jaime disliked how the children had come to be, he couldn't blame them, they were innocent. Perhaps he would even feel Cersei's sorrow and heartbreak as he had done when they were children. He had always known when she needed his comfort, maybe he would know now. Maybe this, as terrible as the event was would be what brought him back to her.

She nodded as she drained her glass and reached for the pitcher to pour herself some more. She should have sent that stupid girl for her brother as well as her father. It wasn't Tywin she needed now, but Jaime. He would know how to comfort her.

She would tell her father and then she would tell Jaime. And he would come back to her, as he had once done so willingly. Then they would tell Joffrey and Tommen together. Perhaps they would even tell the boys that Jaime was, in fact, their father. Robert wasn't there to get in their way anymore. The entire kingdom had heard the rumors by now, and half of them still backed the Lannisters and Joffrey. They didn't need to hide it. They could be a family again.

She nodded to herself as she finished her glass. She could see it.

And it was perfect. And golden. And warm.

It was everything she had ever wanted for her life.

And it all came crashing down round her shoulders when the door to her chambers opened and her father's brother, Kevan, entered instead of her father. She turned on him, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "I sent for Father," she told him, her voice cold. "You can do nothing for me."

Her uncle looked at her for a moment, his eyes soft - so unlike her father's, a frown tugging at his lips. He looked as though he felt sorry for her. She did not need his sympathy, she needed him to leave her chambers and get her father. "Cersei," he started, his voice wrapping around her name like a warm blanket. "Your father is dead. He has been dead for three moons at least."

Cersei shook her head. A memory of a funeral cutting through her wine induced fog. It couldn't be. At least not that long ago. Her father couldn't have been dead for that long. "Jaime?" she asked, her voice cracking and breaking around her brother's name.

"You sent him away," Kevan reminded her gently. "To find Lenora."

Cersei's hand closed into a fist at the mention of Lenora's name. The girl was dead to her. And Myrcella was dead. And Joffrey ... "Joff," she whispered.

Kevan shook his head, he opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her that her eldest son was gone too, but he was wrong. Because she could hear him. Out in the corridor, calling for her. He called her mother, his voice soft and gentle in a way it hadn't been since he was a young boy. He was looking for her, he needed her.

She pushed past Kevan, striding toward the door in quick, determined steps. "Coming Sweeting," she called out to her son, hoping that he could hear her. She had not been there when she had lost Lenora. She had not been there when Myrcella had fallen victim to the fever that had taken her according to the raven, but she would be there for Joffrey and Tommen.

He was waiting for her in the corridor. His skin was pale, dark purple bruises under his green eyes as if he had not slept well in weeks. But he was still as beautiful as he had always been. She reached out for him, meaning to grab his hand, but her fist closed around nothing, but thin air. He was out of her reach again, he had moved so fast that she hadn't even seen him.

"Sweeting," she whispered, remembering when he had told her to stop calling him that, when he had pouted and complained that he was a king and he did not need his mother treating him like he was a child. He did not fight her this time, instead he stood just out of her reach and smiled.

She tried to reach out to him again, but again her fist closed around nothing. "I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

Something crossed over his green eyes, a sadness and an impatience. "I'm not here, Mother," he told her, his voice echoing oddly off the walls around them. It sounded hollow. "I'll never be again. You weren't able to save me."

Cersei shook her head, she couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. "I tried," she told her son, emphatically, wishing that he knew just how hard she had tried to save him. "I tried." She could feel tears prickling her eyes, threatening to pour down her cheeks. She held them back, queens did not cry in public.

Joffrey shook his head, no longer smiling. "It wasn't enough," he told her. "You weren't enough. You failed. Just as you failed Myrcella."

"It wasn't my choice to send her away," Cersei argued, defending herself. "Tyrion sent her without my permission. It wasn't my choice."

"It wasn't your choice," Joffrey sneered, ridiculing her. "You were never as strong as you thought you were, Mother. Never as strong as you should have been. You allowed others to make choices for you when you should have been making them yourself. You were weak. And because of that you were unable to save me. You were unable to save Myrcella. You won't save Lenora. And you won't save Tommen."

Cersei shook her head, silently denying her son's words. She couldn't understand why he was being so cruel, but he was wrong. She would save them, her two remaining children. She would start with Tommen. "I'll save him," she vowed, her voice a breathless whisper. "You'll see."

Joffrey shook his head, "You've already lost him," he told her, still sneering. "They've got their thorns in him now and they won't let go. He's as good as dead."

Cersei shook her head again, not denying her son's words, but silently wishing them away.

Joffrey nodded, still ridiculing her. "They do," he vowed to her. "He's no longer yours. None of us are. You're alone now, Mother. Just as you've always been."

He disappeared then, no longer simply out of her reach, but out of her sight. But his words remained, she could still hear them echoing in her head.

He's no longer yours. None of us are.

She shook her head, quickly striding down the corridor, looking for a servant.

You're alone now, Mother. Just as you've always been.

As soon as she found a servant she sent them after Qyburn. She needed him urgently, while there was still time to save him.

You've already lost him.

She may have lost her youngest son, but she would not allow him to die as Joffrey had, scared and choking on his own tongue. She would not allow them to make a public spectacle of her pain.

They've got their thorns in him now.

She'd kill them all, every single one of them. Anyone who had dared to try to take her children from her. The Tyrells of Highgarden. The Martells in Dorne. The Starks in the North. Everyone.

He's as good as dead.

-.-.-.-.-

Tyrion

It took them a day before they began to speak. A day of riding silently side by side, taking turns watching each other when the other looked away. The wolf's brows always furrowed when he glanced at the boy, his blue eyes scanning his tan face, searching for anything and everything that could remind him of Lenora. And the bastard stole quick, furtive looks at the one-time king as if Robb Stark were the sun itself and he would be burned by looking at him for too long.

Each had questions for the other. But both were too nervous, too afraid to ask.

If Tyrion hadn't enjoyed watching them so much he would have said something. But he was enjoying the entertainment and was a bit upset when on the second day of their ride north, Gendry ended it by speaking.

"What is she like?" he asked Robb, echoing the question he had once asked Tyrion. "My sister," he specified, as if it were needed. "What is she like?"

It's not as though she's the only thing the two of you are thinking about, Tyrion thought to himself with a smirk. It seemed that of the two of Robert's children that he knew, only one of them had gotten the late King's mind. And it wasn't his bastard son.

Robb glanced at him for a moment and opened his mouth to speak, before he looked away, closing his eyes as if it hurt too much to speak about Lenora while looking at someone who looked so much like her. For a long moment he was silent, and then, his eyes on the small forgotten side road in front of them, he began to speak.

"Her voice was like honey," he told the boy, still not looking at him. "Clear and smooth and sweet. Always with something hiding behind it. Sarcasm, a jest, a smirk. It didn't simply come out of her mouth, it rang, filling the room. And even when she spoke quietly there was a power in it that made people listen to her, even if they disagreed. It was silvery and at times almost musical."

From behind them, Tyrion could see that both boys were smiling. Robb wore the bittersweet, rueful smile he always wore when he spoke of Lenora and Gendry grinned widely at the small description that the Stark boy had given him. "She sounds nice," Gendry supplied, turning to look to Robb for confirmation.

Robb laughed, a dark chuckle that rumbled its way up his throat. It didn't ring true, it sounded dangerous. "Not always," he warned the boy. "Her words were like her mind, capable of being warm and kind, but she had a sword for a tongue. If she thought you a fool, she would use her words to cut you. And she could cut to the bone."

Tyrion wondered why the Stark boy kept referring to Lenora in the past tense. He opened his mouth to ask, but Gendry had another question, and the boy was faster than the careful, thoughtful lord behind him. "Did she love you right away?" he asked. And then, "Did you love her?"

Robb shook his head, the rueful smile back on his lips, his blue eyes distant. "Neither of us did," he told the boy. "We learned that we were to be wed at a young age, before we truly understood what it meant. When we did finally understand it, we fought against it." He shook his head again, bitter, "We wasted so much time trying to hate each other." He finally turned, his blue-eyed gaze landing on the boy beside him. "Love came in its own time," he told him. "And it came faster for me than it did for her. She was stubborn, your sister, a trait I'm not entirely sure she only got from her Lannister mother." He was quiet for a moment and Tyrion thought that he was waiting for another one of Gendry's questions, but then he spoke again, unprompted. "You look just like her."

Gendry nodded, "She looks like King Robert," he told Robb, as if the young Stark had never seen the king for himself. "Since learning that he was my father too everyone that knows says that I look like him too. The dark hair, the grey eyes."

Robb nodded, "She was strong," he told Gendry, unbidden. He chuckled again and shook his head, "Not strong like a man, she didn't carry her strength in her muscles. It was," he paused, looking for the right way to describe it, "inside. She carried it with her quietly, but I could see it. In her eyes, the way she held herself, what she did. Robert might have been strong on the battlefield, but Nora, she was strong everywhere."

Gendry nodded, taking it all in. After a long silent moment he cleared his throat. "What was it like?" he asked, and then as if realizing that his question gave very little frame of reference he tried again. "When you were happy," he specified. "What was it like when the two of you were happy?"

For the first time since they had found Robb, the Stark boy's smile was neither bitter or rueful. It pulled up at the corners of his lips, reaching his eyes, a dimple crinkling in his cheek. That smile had the power to transform him from someone menacing to someone Tyrion almost wanted to know. It was the smile of the man that Lenora had fallen in love with.

"It was like being home," he told Gendry softly. "Something that came from the inside. It was like my breaths weren't full until she was there next to me and suddenly I could breathe for the first time in my life. Where at first my future had been a vague, hazy outline of what was expected of me, it was suddenly clear. Suddenly full of life, and color, and love. Suddenly it was full of her. I didn't simply want, Nora, I needed her. She was everything."

Tyrion snorted, he remembered feeling that way about Shae, it was unhealthy at best, life-ruining at worst. Robb turned to look at him over his shoulder, his blue eyes narrowing into a glare. "What, Imp?" he growled, the lightness that had filled his voice during his last answer quickly disappearing from his voice.

Tyrion shrugged and shook his head, "I am simply imagining what Len would say if she heard you speak like this about her."

The Stark boy's lips twitched at the corners, he was fighting a smile. "She'd call me a fool," he suggested. "Perhaps she'd tease me and say I had read one too many of Sansa's fairytales." He turned his gaze forward again and shook his head. "Our life wasn't a fairytale," he murmured, Tyrion was unsure if the boy was still talking to him, or Gendry, or perhaps even himself, "but she was mine."

...

The next day Gendry was not as shy with his questions. It did not take him as long to ask. He peppered Robb with all sorts of questions about Lenora.

What her favorite food was?

Did she like to dance?

Did she enjoy reading?

Was she really as good at sword play as everyone insisted?

And on and on they went.

Stark, to his credit, answered every one of the boy's questions with a patience that Tyrion had never thought him capable of. Sometimes, unbidden, he added stories of their time together that Gendry had not asked for.

Tyrion kept waiting for the moment when Gendry would run out of questions, or when one of the answers would be too difficult for Robb. But neither moment came. Before Robb finished an answer, Gendry would already have a new question on the tip of his tongue. And the Stark boy seemed to enjoy answering them. He became more and more the boy Tyrion had met at Winterfell when they first arrived so long ago.

Talking about Lenora seemed to bring him back.

And still, Gendry had more questions. At this rate he would know everything about his sister before they officially met.

There would be no need for an introduction. That thought made him smile.

-.-.-.-.-

Lenora

For the first time since the Boltons had brought her back to Winterfell she enjoyed walking in the courtyard. They had found some of the old Stark banners hidden away. They were dirty, many singed by the Ironborn's fires, there were holes, and some of them were in downright tatters, but they remained.

And the Stark children were determined to make the best of everything.

So they hung them, and Arya determined that they would do just fine until she and Sansa were able to sew new ones. Lenora loved it, remembering the little girl who had once hated sewing with her sister, but now happily sat down for an hour each afternoon to help.

And Sansa, to her credit, no longer ridiculed Arya's stitching, no longer fussed when it wasn't perfect. No longer puffed like a proud peacock when her stitches were neater, faster, smaller than her sister's. Though, on more than one occasion Lenora had caught Sansa quietly ripping out Arya's stitches and redoing them once her younger sister had left to practice her swordplay with Brienne and the Hound, and occasionally Bronn and Jaime in the courtyard.

The girl had no shortage of teachers now. And Lenora knew that she appreciated it. She got something different from all of them. The girl would be heartbroken when they left, though she would never admit it. She was so much tougher than that.

For the first afternoon in a fortnight the courtyard was empty of both Arya's sword play lessons and of carpenters and men working on righting some of the damage the Ironborn had caused to the keep. It was quiet and as she moved across the open space between the main keep and the stables she could hear the banners rippling in the bitter wind.

She turned, keeping her gaze resolutely off the kennels to look at the banners. Her chest tightened, not painfully, at the sight of the grey direwolf on the white field, both back where they belonged on Winterfell's walls.

Unbidden, her gaze fell on the kennels, it was where they had found him - Rickon. They found him shortly after she and Grey Wind had returned from their hunt. Apparently Ramsay had not been entirely honest when he told them that he had not fed his hounds in weeks. Ramsay, for all his faults was not stupid, she did not doubt that it had only taken him a short time to realize his dilemma. If he won the battle against Jon, he would not want Ned Stark's last remaining trueborn son at Winterfell, and if he lost, he would want to hit Jon once more, from beyond the grave, where it would hurt the most. Deep down, she had known that Rickon would not survive, but she had never thought that the monster would go as far as to feed him to his hounds.

There hadn't been much of him left when Jon found him. He had been mauled to a bloody pulp, a mess of bones and innards. The only reason they knew it was him was because before Ramsay had locked him in the kennel with the dogs he had hung a large silver direwolf sigil around his neck. It was still there when Jon found him.

He and Jaime had done their best to try to hide it from her. They both tried to keep her out of the kennel. Jaime went as far as to wrap his hand tightly around her wrist and physically hold her back until she had ordered him to let go of her. Even then he had done so after a long moment of hesitation. Jon tried next, telling her that there was nothing in there that she would want to see. But she was so sick of Jon and Jaime trying to shield her from the unpleasant aspects of war with Ramsay Bolton.

She had lived this. Nothing could shock her now.

Or so she had thought before she entered the kennel. The smell was horrible, even in the cold, Rickon had begun to rot. The sight was worse. But worse than that was the way the dogs growled, the way their eyes locked on her from within their cages, staring at her as if she were their next meal.

Her fists had clenched that day as she walked out of the kennel, just as they were clenched now, her fingernails digging into the scarred and broken palms of her hands. She had walked out of the kennel and ordered that all the dogs be put down, they could not be trusted around men any longer. And then she had ordered Jon to bury Theon. She did not care how he felt about Theon Greyjoy, the boy had been terrible, but he had become a man. And that man had saved her life, only to stay behind and try to save Rickon's as well, surely knowing it would be the death of him.

"Would you have me bury him here or send his bones back to the Iron Islands?" Jon had asked, his voice cold. He was not arguing with her, she took that as a good sign.

"Here," she told him, her voice still a command. "He made mistakes," she continued, her voice softening a bit. "I will be the first to admit it. But he thought he had a choice to make, an impossible one: Stark or Greyjoy. The family that had taken him in, who cared for him, who raised him, and the family he had been born into."

She had glanced past Jon at that point, her gaze landing on Jaime. His green eyes were locked on her face, her uncle knew why it was so important to her that Theon be buried at Winterfell, he knew that the reason she sympathized with Theon was because she had faced the same impossible choice on several occasions during the war. She needed redemption for Theon if she could ever hope for some for herself.

Jon didn't see it, he couldn't yet. He took a step closer to her, shaking his head. "Our father was more of a father to him than his ever was. And he betrayed him. He betrayed his memory."

Lenora had nodded, she would not shy away from Jon's anger, it was well deserved, but she would not let him change her mind. "You didn't see him at the end," she told him. "Ned Stark was still a part of him." Jon had shaken his head, but Lenora pressed on. "He saved me. And then he stayed behind to try to help Rickon. Tell me, that is not something he learned from your father." She paused, waiting for Jon to argue with her, and when he didn't she continued. "I didn't forgive him for everything he did, it wasn't my place, but what I could forgive, I did. You should try to do the same."

She had watched as something lit in Jon's dark eyes. He could see it now, her connection with Theon Greyjoy. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle. He wasn't speaking about Theon, he was speaking about Lenora. "You never had to make a choice," he told her, his voice strong despite its whisper. "You're a Stark. You're a Baratheon. You're a Lannister. You're the best of all three, Nora, never forget that."

"And he was a Greyjoy," she countered, "and a Stark."

They had not spoken about it again, but when Jon's men had found Theon's body, partially trampled on the battlefield he had ordered that the men bury it in the Godswood. Then he had them remove Rickon's body and bury it in the crypt with the other Starks.

That had been nearly two weeks ago and she still could not enter the kennels. She couldn't even look at them without her fists clenching, without bile rising in her throat, without her chest tightening painfully. Without thinking that, perhaps, she and Grey Wind had been too easy on Ramsay. She should have had him whipped, she should have had him beaten, she should have had him broken. She should have injured him, and then sent healers to him, helping him get better just to hurt him again. She should have cut pieces of him off as he had done to Rickon, and Theon before him. She should have flayed him as he had threatened to do to so many. She should have burned him, mutilated him, humiliated him, and prolonged his miserable life for as long as she could. And then she should have fed him to his own damn dogs.

Grey Wind, for all his fury and growling, for the hour and a half it took the wolf to slowly kill him, had been far gentler and cleaner than Ramsay Bolton had deserved.

The next time an enemy's life was in her hands, Lenora would remember Ramsay, and she would not be gentle on them.

She was still glaring at the kennels when she ran into him. She gasped when his hands fell to her waist, a touch too familiar, to steady her. "Your Grace," Littlefinger greeted her, finally dropping his hands and stepping away from her. "I apologize, I seem to have startled you." He glanced around the courtyard, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as his gaze landed on the kennels. "Lost in thought?" he asked, his voice still light and friendly, it made the hairs on the back of Lenora's neck stand up. "I imagine this courtyard is filled with many happy and terrible memories. Which ones were you visiting just now?"

Lenora fought to keep her eyes from narrowing. She did not trust Littlefinger any farther than she could throw him. She did not know why he had arrived with the knights of the Vale at the Battle of the Bastards, and while she would admit that they never would have won without that support she did not entirely trust him. Still, she knew from her experience of watching Littlefinger in the capitol that she was safer if he thought that she thought they were friends. "No memories at all, Lord Baelish," she told him, keeping her voice light and friendly. "I was simply appreciating the sight of the direwolf sigil back on the walls of Winterfell."

Littlefinger nodded, he looked a shade too proud, as if it were entirely his doing. "It is," he agreed. "The keep has come full circle again. It would have been a shame if we had arrived too late and the battle had been lost. What is it the Northerners always say about Starks and Winterfell?"

"There must always be a Stark at Winterfell," Lenora supplied for him quietly.

"There must always be a Stark at Winterfell," Littlefinger echoed. "And now there are three and a Snow as well."

Lenora bristled at that, she did not like the reminder that Jon was still a Snow, at least in the eyes of the rest of the world. She was going to tell him that evening that Robb had legitimized him, but she worried that it would do little good without proof. "It was very lucky that you arrived when you did, Lord Baelish," she said instead. "Tell me, how did you know that we would need help?"

"Lady Sansa sent a raven to me when Jon Snow first started amassing forces," Littlefinger told her, his voice smooth as silk, his smile tight and cold. "You will remember that I rescued her from King's Landing and brought her to the Eyrie to live with her aunt and her cousin Robin. My beloved Lysa is dead now, but Robin cares deeply for Lady Sansa, as do I, we heard her plea and we could not ignore it."

She was unable to keep her eyes from narrowing now. On their journey to the Wall Sansa had told her and Brienne all about her time in the Eyrie. She knew that Littlefinger had kissed her, that he had shoved Lysa Arryn out of the moon door, that Sansa had helped him by lying about what had happened. She had never understood why the girl had helped Littlefinger, personally she thought that the Seven Kingdoms would be better without him, but now she felt oddly grateful that the man was still alive. Distrustful, but grateful.

She inclined her head, her gaze falling to the ground in an attempt to hide her distrust from him. "It was very fortunate you arrived when you did, Lord Baelish," she told him, knowing that it was what he wanted to hear from her - praise and gratitude. "And so brave, though I suppose if you had arrived later you could have announced that you had arrived to help Ramsay." Her voice was still soft, but there was a steel underneath it that she knew Littlefinger could hear.

The man, to his credit did not seem ashamed by her questioning his honor. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "It would not have done anyone any good for me to arrive at the battle and declare for the losing side. Without Jon Snow's forces, the knights of the Vale would have made very little progress. If we had arrived too late I would have immediately aligned myself with Ramsay, if only to perhaps protect Lady Sansa and Lady Arya."

Lenora nodded, he was saying all the right words, and if he were anyone else she might have believed them. But not him. She forced a smile onto her lips, "How happy it must be to have no skin in the game," she told him, lifting her gaze to his face. "Your actions shape a country, and yet you only act when your best interest will be served."

He bristled at that a bit, "I don't see how it was in my best interest to ride north with the Knights of the Vale. Some of Robin's men could have died. They all would have been safe if we had simply stayed in the Eyre. It was a risk."

Lenora nodded, "But a calculated one," she countered. "I did not read the raven Lady Sansa sent you, but I can imagine what was in it. You could not risk our side winning without your help for fear that she might reveal what truly happened to Lady Lysa. Now could you?"

For a moment he was quiet and then the lord started to laugh. "You are intelligent, Lady Lenora," he congratulated her. "You certainly see more than your father ever did. I see much of Lord Tyrion in you. Your uncle must be so proud."

Lenora smiled as she reached into the pocket that was hidden in the folds of her skirt. She had been carrying this with her ever since she had returned to Winterfell. Until this moment she had not known what to do with it, but now she knew. It was time to return it to its owner. "It's strange that you should mention my uncle, Lord Baelish," she told him, her voice smooth and warm again, betraying nothing. "And I'm glad that you've noticed that I see things. Because this is something that I saw long ago that I couldn't make sense of until now. Perhaps you could help me?"

His chest puffed with pride and he smirked, "If I can be of any service, Lady Lenora, please allow me to help. What is it that you struggle with?"

Lenora kept the smile on her face as she withdrew the dagger from her pocket. It was a beautiful one, Valyrian steel and a gold hilt. One that she had seen and held many times as a child. The dagger that had been used in the attempt on Bran's life. She kept her gaze locked on Littlefinger's face as his gaze moved over the dagger. She had the pleasure of watching surprise color his face, quickly followed by confusion, panic, and finally a calm mask. "This was my uncle Tyrion's dagger," she told Littlefinger as she tried to hand it to him.

He would not take it.

"And what - " he asked, pausing to clear his throat, "what has you so uncertain about this dagger, my lady?"

"It was used in an attempt on Bran Stark's life before all of this started when he lay unconscious after my uncle Jaime pushed him from the tower," she explained to him, though she suspected that she didn't need to waste her breath. "An unsuccessful attempt that left Lady Catelyn suspicious of my family and forced her to travel south to King's Landing to speak to her husband," she paused, "and you."

He looked more uncomfortable now, "I assure you, my lady, anything I said or did for Lady Catelyn while she was in the capitol was to protect her. We were -"

"And to keep her suspicious of my family," Lenora interrupted, she did not have the time or the patience to hear one of Littlefinger's stories about how he had once been close to the Tulley sisters. "You told her that it had been your dagger, that you lost it to my uncle Tyrion when you bet on Jaime in a tourney and he lost. You told her that the dagger had changed hands and from then on out it belonged to a Lannister. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, she was already determined to suspect my family, so she never stopped to question that it did not make sense."

Littlefinger shook his head, he was watching her face, not her hands. He didn't notice when she unsheathed the blade. "I don't think you know what you're saying, my lady," he told her his voice soft and soothing. "You've been through so much as of late, no one could blame you."

"No one trusts the Lannisters," she mused quietly. "Whenever a Lannister says something it is often discredited because it came from a Lannister. But what no one realizes is that they are a loyal group, at least to themselves. It is true, the tournament you spoke of, Jaime lost, but you lied when you told Lady Catelyn that you bet on Jaime against my uncle. Tyrion would never bet against Jaime, he's too loyal for that. He bet on Jaime winning, you bet against him. The Lannister dagger changed hands and landed in yours."

Littlefinger shook his head, but she did not give him a chance to defend himself. She was tired of his voice. "You were the Master of Coin, it would have been easy enough for you to pay the would be murderer. But it was a few months later when you truly showed your hand. The man who attempted to kill me had so much gold on him that it could have only come from the king. But it would have been you who arranged the payment." She glanced up at him, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Tell me, Lord Baelish, in all your years playing at politics in Westeros, have you always been this sloppy? Or is this a recent development?"

He never got the chance to answer. Lenora had learned her lesson with Ramsay, to never underestimate an enemy. And she had learned it well. She had gone too gently with Ramsay's death only to learn upon her return that he had deserved so much worse. Lord Baelish would want a trial, where he would speak to everything that had happened to her and how she could no longer determine who was her enemy and who was her friend. He would paint a picture of a terrified and broken woman, who should be protected from even herself. And no doubt, many men would believe it.

He would twist his words and his actions until even she questioned what she thought she had known. He would have someone else to place the blame on, and it would be so well executed that even she might start to believe it. She could not let that happen. And so, while he was distracted and floundering, searching for the right words to use in the situation she used his surprise to her advantage.

Her fist closed around the hilt of the dagger, the metal dug into her palm. As she spun quickly toward him, hitting him and pushing him, stumbling toward the wall. He almost fell and reached out his right hand, stooping slightly to catch himself on the wall and steady his feet. It was in that moment, when he was bent down, his throat lowered that she made her move. She quickly moved to stand behind him and then, without thinking, she used the dagger in her right hand to cut his throat, from below his left ear to below his right.

The Valyrian steel cut through his skin like a knife through melted butter. It cut quickly, smoothly, and deep. His head lulled back as he dropped to his knees, the back of his head resting on her stomach as his pale, panicked blue eyes stared up at the sky above them. Blood rushed from his wound, coloring and melting the snow at their feet, covering her hands and the dagger. It gurgled as he tried to breathe. His hands lifted toward his throat, slow and lazy, he had already lost too much blood, he didn't even have the strength to lift them all to his throat.

She leaned forward, smiling a bit as she moved into his sight line. He didn't have much longer, he would fall to the ground soon. Even if there was a maester with them now, he was a dead man, he could not be saved. But she wanted to make sure that she was the last thing he saw before he fell.

She wanted to ensure that her smile would be the image that sent him to the Stranger, and to whatever the Gods had planned for him now.

Author's Note:

PLEASE DO NOT HATE ME.
I know, you all hoped that Rickon would survive. I know. And I wanted to let him. But if you check back many, many, many chapters you'll see in an author's note that I said that at the end of this story the same amount of Starks would die as in the show. I saved Robb so Bran had to die. If I wanted to keep Rickon alive I would have had to kill one of the two girls. And I could not do that.
All the same, please do not hate me!
If you're still here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for adding this story to your alerts lists, your favorites lists, your communities, and thank you so much for your reviews! You guys are wonderful!

RHatch89: No more fucking Boltons! You are right! But as evidenced by this chapter Ramsay Bolton is capable of reaching out beyond the grave and hurting Lenora even after she thinks she's safe. As for the North crowning the King (or Queen!) of the North, you will have to wait and see! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter!

12D3 Gorillaz: Damn! I thought I was being so sneaky with the Theon surprise! But you guessed it! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one as well! (Hopefully this surprise was a bit harder to guess!)

Average White Writer: I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story! Thank you so much! I'm glad that you're enjoying Lenora. I think she's one of my most favorite OCs I've ever made. Unfortunately, the story will have to end eventually (in about seven chapters to be exact) but I promise that it will all be good!

The Three Stoogies: I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one as well!

RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond: Aww! Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad that the last chapter made it into your list of favorite chapters! And I'm glad that I managed to catch you by surprise! I hope I didn't make you wait too long for this chapter!

Emma Clair 93: I'm glad! Thank you for letting me know!

Guest(1): Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and that it was a worthy distraction from the wait for the reunion. It's still coming, but with each chapter we get closer!

Guest(2): I agree, thank goodness Ramsay is dead! It's just too bad that he didn't die a bit sooner! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter all the same!

purple-pygmy-puff16: You are the only one who guessed that even though I killed Theon I was also going to kill Rickon. Bravo! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!

janaoliver: "Absolute perfection!" That is some pretty big praise! Thank you so much! And I hope that I am able to live up to that in the future! That would have been fun to have Robb show up to see what she had become, but don't worry, when they do reunite Robb will be able to witness the amazing badass she has grown into. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (even though there was no reunion with the littlest Stark).

TheDragonSinger: I know! It hurt to kill Theon. (Honestly, it hurt more to kill him than it did to kill Rickon in this chapter!)

HPuni101: Aww! Thank you so much! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. The confrontation between Cersei and Lenora is going to be fantastic, even without any help from Littlefinger. Season seven did have a bit of lazy writing. And there was a lot of focus on imagined stress between Sansa and Arya that I thought could have been spent on something else. So, no battles, real or imagined, between the Stark sisters in this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, my friend!

Guest1995: Thank you so much for your review my friend! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter (even though it was a bit conflicting!) I've been waiting since the beginning of this story for the chapter when Ramsay got what he deserved. So I am thrilled that you guys have enjoyed it so much. I've been waiting for that scene where Lenora quotes Ramsay back at him for MONTHS!
I like to think that Theon did get his redemption. He helped save Lenora, he stuck around to try to save Rickon, and when Ramsay set him lose on the battlefield he was running toward Lenora, not so that she could save him, but screaming at her to turn back. He knew he was going to die, he was still trying to save her. If that's not redemption, I don't know what is.
As for your request to see a reunion between Lenora and Casterly, your wish will be my command in the next chapter. Had not planned on it, but there is a scene in the next chapter that could easily begin in the stables with Casterly. So ,,, consider it done! And you are right! She does plan to go south. She might run into some friends along the way!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, friend!

StarkTeller: I'm glad that you're jumping for absolute joy! (At least that you were! I hope you still are!) You're very welcome for your special shout out! You deserved it! It was your birthday week! I hope you enjoyed Disneyland, I've never been, I'm on the east coast so I'm a Disney World girl all the way!
And yes! We will see some Tyrion and Cersei POVs pretty soon ;)

PsychoBeachGirl88: I'm so glad that you found this story! Thank you so much for reading it and taking the time to review! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last conflicting chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well! Yes, some of Lenora's soldiers survived, they'll be heading south soon enough!

AnnaB: Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed the multiple POVs of the same situation. I originally thought of adding some more, snippets of what is going on in other places in the Seven Kingdoms, but I decided I wanted to keep the chapter focused on the BotB like they did in the episode. I like to think that it worked out.
I loved reading your review, all the parts that you spoke about were some of my favorite parts of the chapter too! So it was nice to see them so appreciated! Thank you so much! Thank you so much for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! (Despite the scene at the end ... you have to admit, he deserved it!)

Padfootette: I'm glad! I hope you loved this chapter just as much!

rorschachmask27: I tend to picture Lily James as Lenora. She's a natural brunette, and I like to look at pictures of her and Richard Madden from Romeo and Juliet for inspiration.
Though others have suggest Adelaide Kane. Who is a worthy contender.

Damon's Special Reserve: Thank you so much! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Bhk: Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you enjoyed this one as well!

Falcon Lair: Thank you so much! I hope this chapter was just as good!

LunaWolfSunTigeress15: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you love Lenora! I love her too, so it's nice to hear (or read) that you guys love her just as much! I hope that you continue to love her and this story as it progresses!

MaiaofThedas: I think Robert would be proud of her, and that's something that she and her uncle will be talking about in the near future. If he weren't dead he would be pleased to know that his daughter has grown into a strong, brave woman.
As for Myrcella, she did die. But no one killed her, Lenora doesn't know about it yet, but she'll find out soon. As for Gendry ... you know Lenora will legitimize him! As soon as she meets him.
Now that she is officially on the war path the Black lioness will be making a comeback. Thank you so much for your review, my friend! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Alba: I have had my moments of shipping her with Jon as well! There were times when I toyed with keeping Robb dead, but I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. They're meant for each other, the two of them. I couldn't pair Lenora with anyone else.

Gamemaster77: Aww! You reviewed just in time! So you didn't have to wait long at all for the next update! I'm glad that the last chapter had everything that you wanted! That made my morning to read that! Yes please! Let's break it down!
I'm glad that Jamie's section left you with the warm fuzzies. Don't worry, he won't be killed off in this story at the very least! And I hope not in the show either! Though I think it would be poetic justice in a way.
Ah! I love when people quote my story back at me! I'm so happy that you appreciated Jon's point of view and how he saw Lenora before the battle. He cares so much about his siblings, and in turn Lenora, and I am thrill that that is coming through. Jon and Robb's reunion is going to be fantastic. (And it's much closer than many of you think!) You spoil me with your praise about Lenora's ride toward Theon. I'm glad that even though you knew that Theon was dead I was able to momentarily make you think, hope, pray that Theon might live. And I love that you picked up on how Theon was running straight toward Lenora! Screaming at Lenora to turn back. No one else picked up on that. This was Theon's redemption, even in the face of death he was looking out for Lenora. She won't forget that.
Yeah, Ser Justin made it out alive. I like this pretty much made up character too much to kill him now. I appreciate that you noticed the little things like the part where she wasn't sure who her friends and enemies were. It would be less difficult in the south where everybody has different colors. But it was northerners fighting northerners in this one. And as much time as she spent with them and Robb, she's still a bit of an outsider. The moments the lines broke, she would be completely lost.
I hope that you liked this chapter, even if I'm potentially breaking a lot of hearts with Rickon. (And also to a lesser degree Myrcella). Thank you so much for your review and your kind words, I hope I can keep this roll going!

That's all I've got for now, kiddos!
Thank you so much!
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.