I'm so sorry it's taken so long. My exam got in the way and made me miss a week or two but I'm back now with the longest chapter so far!

I've always thought that some of the magic that Melisandre can do is brushed aside and has been since the shadow baby. In that mindset, my Melisandre here is very, very different to the show one, and she has the potential to be extremely powerful.

Bold speech is High Valyrian.

I own nothing but the OC's.

The morning after he arrived in King's Landing, Robb woke early. The heat was barely tolerable even now for him, and he immediately had to guzzle some water to wet his throat. He stared outside towards the city of King's Landing, barely noticing a large group of people walking towards the castle. He turned back to his chambers and began to put on his full set of armour. Once he felt comfortable, he made his way with his guard down to the training yard. The Stark Lord was the first person there other than a man with brown hair, the Master-at-Arms, Ser Aron Santagar. The Dornishman was polishing his shield, showing the colours of his house.

"Lord Stark." The man said unemotionally. "I was told to expect you here today."

Robb bowed his head slightly. "Ser Aron. Is the King not here yet?"

The knight replied. "His Grace will be resting, Lord Stark."

Robb nodded, swallowing his annoyance at the retort. "Very well. Have you any tips?"

The Dornishman looked Robb up and down. "No." He replied coolly and walked off into the armoury.

Robb felt insulted at the brash nature of the Dornishman, but a voice from behind him made him go cold. "Forgive Ser Aron. He has a mistrust of Northerners due to the end of the Rebellion."

Robb forced himself to bow to the woman. "Queen Mother." He said, emphasising her title. "I am surprised to see you in the tiltyard."

Cersei kept her hands in her sleeves. "I came to talk with you." She admitted. "This… sport. It seems unnecessary for the King to dirty himself when much more important issues are at hand."

Robb didn't react. "His Grace suggested the spar as we couldn't back in Winterfell due to his injury. It would be unwise to refuse him."

Cersei didn't look like she agreed. "I don't know why after all you have done, but my son trusts you and considers you a friend."

Robb clenched his teeth together before responding, his talks with Sansa happily paying off on how to act around King's Landing. "His Grace has understood my reasons for my actions and has been gracious in his mercy."

Cersei took a step closer, staring at the burn scars on Robb's face. "Yes, it seems you've paid the price for your little rebellion." She noted. "Although, if you harm the King today, these scars will pale in comparison."

Robb's face fell into a scowl as he stared down at the Lannister woman. "What will you do, Your Grace? Throw me into the Black Cells as you did my Father? Or will you go one step beyond what you did to him and actually have me executed?"

Cersei was about to retort when a whole host of footsteps could be heard from the direction of the Red Keep. Robb looked up to see the King surrounded by his Kingsguard approaching.

"Mother!" Durran exclaimed. "A surprise to see you here."

Cersei smiled sweetly, and Robb almost vomited at the action. "I came for a word with Lord Stark before your bout, Your Grace."

Durran shook his head. "I'm sure that's all it was." He rolled his eyes. "Ser Balon, please escort my Mother back to her chambers." Cersei looked like she was about to argue, but decided against it, following Ser Balon Swann away from the small arena. Durran turned to Robb apologetically. "I'm sorry about her, she believes me stupid for trusting anybody other than a Lannister."

"She cares about you." Robb said.

Durran laughed. "In her own way I suppose yes. Before Joffrey however she only had room in her heart for him." He stepped forwards and shook Robb's hand. "I must admit, I've been looking forward to this ever since Winterfell."

Robb smiled quickly. "If you hadn't have broken your arm, we would have sparred back then."

Durran smiled, as a squire tightened the black steel plate covering his shoulders and chest that sat atop his yellow leathers. "It was a large deer." He defended himself. He was given his helmet next, and threw it at Robb, who just about caught it. "Those were its antlers."

They were about triple the size of the actual helmet, and Robb was impressed. He handed the helmet back to Durran who placed it on his head, letting the squire strap it. Once that was done Durran was handed a longsword, and Robb noticed the stag's head pommel with the yellow eyes seemingly glaring at him. He was handed a Stark shield by one of his Northmen and withdrew his sword.

"I'm not used to fighting with a one-handed weapon, so this will be good training for us both. A good distraction from the rabble outside also." Durran said, unsheathing the Valyrian Steel.

Robb nodded, admiring the blade. "Where did you get that?"

"Fury?" Durran asked, swinging the blade. "With House Corbray going extinct they had no further need of Lady Forlorn. Queen Daenerys wisely had it remade into Fury." He held his left arm out then, and a shield bearing his sigil was strapped to his arm too.

"A fine blade." Robb admitted. "And Valyrian Steel, too. That will be useful in the wars to come, a blade that never dulls."

Durran nodded, and he gestured for Ser Aron to come back in. The Dornish knight checked the pairs armour and weapons, being unnecessarily rough with Robb, before standing between them.

"We duel until a yield." The Dornishman said. "You are using live steel also, so temper your attacks. I don't want any fatal blows. Do you both understand?" Durran and Robb both nodded, and Ser Aron stepped back. "Begin."

Robb stared on as the huge figure of Durran came walking towards him. With a roar, the Baratheon struck downwards, and Robb raised his shield to block the strike before hacking at Durran's left hand side, only to be blocked by the King's own shield. Taking a step back, Robb quickly went for another attack, being parried by Fury twice in quick succession before Robb had to use his shield once more to block the incoming blow. Robb was quicker than his King, and he used that as an advantage, swinging his sword in all directions to try and find an opening. Durran matched him on the defensive however, his shield and sword stopping any of Robb's attacks from hitting his person.

His breakthrough came when Durran's inexperience with sword and shield started telling. The King lunged, his footwork just off, and Robb easily parried the blow. Durran's shield was too low, and Robb whacked Durran's helmet with the flat of his sword. Harmless enough, but it would give the King a headache.

"Keep your shield up, Your Grace." Robb exclaimed. "Or that won't be the only time I ring your head like a bell."

Durran nodded, ducking behind the large shield as they resumed the spar. The King lashed out with his shield, causing Robb to move backwards, blocking the blow with his own circular shield before swords clashed once more. Durran was using more power behind his swings, and Robb was having to be extra careful of how he parried. Finally, an opportunity came where Durran got inside Robb's defences, parrying Robb's shield away and kicking out at the Stark's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Grinning, he got back to his feet.

"Ouch." He said, causing the Baratheon to chuckle too just before Robb came at him fiercely. The Stark swinging his sword from all directions in quick succession, using his speed to back Durran up. He feigned right, and then uppercut from the left, pushing Durran to parry with Fury, but the King's sword was pushed up, leaving Robb a gap to elbow the King in the midriff, before holding his sword to Durran's neck.

The Baratheon stopped in bewilderment for a moment, before his grin returned and he lowered his arms. "I yield, you fucker I yield."

Robb lowered his sword too, as the Kingsguard and Robb's own men applauded the bout. Ser Barristan came and took the Valyrian sword from his liege. "Very good, Your Grace. Although you need to practice on your footwork and skill a bit. You cannot solely win with power with such a weapon."

"Then you can teach me all I still need to learn, Ser." Durran said, loosening his shield and handing it off to the squire before walking over to Robb. "Well, Stark. I thoroughly enjoyed that."

Robb smiled, as the two gripped forearms. "You did well, Your Grace. With some refinement and practice you shall be formidable."

Durran waved his hand in the air. "Piss on that. Unless we're in a formal setting you call me by the name my Father gave me." Robb bowed his head in agreement as Durran flung his arm around his shoulders. "Now come, let us eat before the boredom of a Council meeting takes us by the balls!"

As the swords were clashing in King's Landing the winds were howling and the rain was lashing down on Storm's End. Stefan's Mother had said it was the worst storm that she could remember, but that didn't stop him from making his way to the roof of the Drum Tower to stand in the storm. He felt an odd sense of peace here that he knew he wouldn't get inside the castle as his wife gave birth.

He didn't know how long he stood there, it could have been hours, or it could have been days, but the storm raged on. His only distraction came from behind him in the voice of his 12-year-old brother.

"Are you mad?" The boy screamed over the howling winds.

Stefan grinned, and gestured for his brother to join him. "We have the blood of Elenei in us, Brother. The storm won't harm us!" He shouted back towards the door back into the tower. Davos looked slightly scared but came outside anyway to be assaulted by the rain and wind. He got to Stefan and clung to him. "You know the story of how Storm's End was built! How the Children of the Forest gave Durran Godsgrief aid in constructing the castle! There is ancient magic in these walls and the storm shall not harm us." Davos eased up a bit, and Stefan could see that he relaxed as he stared out, watching the lightning dance across the sky over Shipbreaker Bay. "How is Lady Margaery?" Stefan asked.

"Mother says it shan't be long. That's why I came to get you!" Davos shouted over the wind. Stefan nodded, taking one look out to sea and relishing in the sound of the thunder, before he led his brother inside once more, locking the door behind him. They made their way down towards Margaery's personal rooms. "Have you heard from Shireen?" Davos asked as they walked down the stone steps together.

Stefan nodded. "We received a raven yesterday. She's settled in nicely. Her and Beth Rogers apparently love to go swimming in the Trident just by the castle."

Davos scrunched his nose up. "I never liked her. She pulled my hair."

Stefan laughed, ruffling his brother's hair with his arm. "You'll appreciate girls when you're a bit older I'm sure Davos."

"I won't." Davos replied grumpily, causing Stefan to laugh again.

"I'm afraid you will. I've sent a raven to Lord Ralph Buckler, his daughter Alys is a few months older than you and free for a betrothal." Stefan told him.

Davos looked annoyed, before his face melted into one of thought. "Is she pretty?"

Stefan grinned. "I haven't seen her since before we marched on Wendwater Brother, but she looked like she could be comely back then, sure."

Davos looked slightly happier, as a man dressed in Baratheon leathers came running up towards them. "Lord Stefan!" He cried.

"What is it Robert?" Stefan asked the guard named after his Uncle.

"I've been sent by Lady Baratheon. Lady Margaery has given birth, My Lord."

Stefan thanked the guard and rushed down to his wife's rooms. Two Tyrell guards were on the door and immediately let the two Baratheon's inside, where Margaery was lying in her bed, smiling peacefully. Joy Baratheon was stood at her side, and the old Maester Cressen and his aide were folding some blankets.

"My boy." Joy smiled happily, a small bundle in her arms. "Come, come and meet your son."

Stefan stopped in his tracks, before slowly walking around the bed towards his Mother. He stared at the bundle in her arms, a grin forming on his face. "How are they?" He asked.

"We are well." Margaery replied, smiling.

"I'm happy with the health of both mother and child, My Lord." Cressen said.

Joy helped Stefan get his arms in the right place before passing him the baby. Stefan shifted slightly to make it more comfortable for them both. A loud crack of thunder could be heard, and Stefan was preparing for a loud wail from the baby, but he just gurgled, smiling slightly. "A true Baratheon." Stefan grinned.

"He needs a name." Joy told him.

"Ormund! Boremund!" Davos cried from the doorway. Stefan scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

"No, none of them fit him." He replied. He looked towards Margaery and was pleased to see she agreed. "Lyonel?"

The smile on her face made his mind up. "Lyonel Baratheon." She whispered. "Yes, I like that."

Stefan smiled, staring down at his son once more, staring into the sharp blue eyes of the baby boy. "Welcome to Storm's End, Lyonel."

Over the next week, Robb Stark was allowed into Small Council meetings while the other two visitors from the North were only involved when talking about the North. There were still those who doubted the tales of White Walkers and wights, to the obvious dissatisfaction of Robb and Sam. Randyll Tarly was the main opponent.

That changed when a raven from Castle Black arrived. The young Maester Hothar, the man in charge of the ravens, entered the room to hand Durran the message, and the words chilled him to his core.

"What is it?" Stannis asked.

"We need to start moving the Wildlings by the Wall Southwards immediately." Durran said. He handed Stannis the letter.

"Travelled to Hardhome to relocate the women, children and elderly. Ambushed by the Night King himself…" Stannis trailed off.

Mance's face fell. "How many dead?" He asked stoically.

"They only saved 5,000 of the women and children." Durran replied. "The elders helped fight. Jon lost 3 brothers aiding the escape."

Robb swore, and Sam just looked sad. "And now their watch has ended." He whispered.

"That's almost 40,000 of my people dead." Mance replied, angrily. "What are we going to do about it?"

Randyll Tarly leant forwards. "Calm your tone, Wildling."

"This isn't the time!" Robb shouted. "Jon survived?"

Durran nodded. "He penned the letter. He's letting the Wildling's through the Wall as we speak."

Mance was happier, but not by much. "Good. Though I must get back to my people."

Stannis agreed. "Ser Davos will be back in the Capital shortly. He will take us and the host of Dornish prisoners Northwards." He told Mance Rayder and Robb. "Master Tarly, may I recommend heading to Oldtown as soon as you can. Whatever information is there, we will need."

"There is one more thing Jon mentioned." Durran told them all. "Valyrian Steel can kill White Walkers."

The room fell silent. "How many are left in Westeros?" Morton Waynwood asked.

"We have three wielders in this room." Stannis replied. "Heartsbane of House Tarly, Fury of House Baratheon and Ice of House Stark."

"There are two in the Iron Islands." Robb said. "Greyjoy told me about them when I was younger. House Harlaw and House Drumm."

"And Dany has Blackfyre." Durran nodded. "Add that to Longclaw at the Wall and we have 5 in our possession."

"Perhaps not." Pycelle said, sitting upright. "During the storming of the Dragonpit, the ancient Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce was lost."

Durran had a thought. "It's a long shot, but if we find it… Ser Morton. Take as many gold cloaks as you can and scour the ruins. I want every inch of the place searched. If anything was to survive, a Valyrian Steel greatsword would."

Ser Morton nodded. Samwell Tarly looked thoughtful. "After the Battle of Tumbleton in the Dance of the Dragons Lord Ormund Hightower died and no mention of their House sword was made again. What if House Hightower has kept it hidden?"

Durran nodded. "I'll give you a letter for Lord Leyton. We need that sword now if they still have it."

"There was another rumour of Valyrian Steel in the Reach." Randyll Tarly said.

"House Roxton?" Sam asked. Randyll nodded, his anger at his son disappearing for the moment. "I thought that was a myth."

Randyll shook his head. "Orphan-Maker existed but was supposedly lost in the Second Battle of Tumbleton."

Durran had been writing the names of the swords down. "So, we have five, two are in the hands of the Ironborn and the rest are rumoured lost."

"It's not great." Ser Morton sighed.

"It's a start." Robb countered.

Durran nodded. "Send a raven to House Roxton, Pycelle. Make it clear that the wielder of Orphan-Maker if there is one is to report to King's Landing immediately."

Pycelle bowed his head. "At once Your Grace, but if I may…"

"What is it?" Stannis asked.

"I've never mentioned this before… because your Father, King Robert, would have been sent into a terrible rage." The old man said.

Durran realised it had to do with the Targaryen's. "What is it?" He repeated his Uncle's question.

"When Ser Brynden Rivers went missing at the Wall, Maester Aemon himself sent back his sword, Dark Sister. It was kept in the deepest vaults of the Red Keep until one day, Prince Rhaegar left King's Landing for the tourney of Harrenhal and took it against King Aerys' wishes." Pycelle explained.

"Rhaegar had Dark Sister?" Durran asked.

"Yes." Pycelle nodded. "But, when he returned to lead the army to the Trident, he didn't have the sword."

Durran was confused. "Then where is it?"

"The most logical guess." Pycelle said, looking nervously at Robb. "Is the place where he took Lyanna Stark."

Robb's face fell. "Dorne." He said coolly. "The Tower of Joy."

Durran leant on his arms feeling slightly defeated, before sitting up again. "Ned Stark tore that down." He recited from his lessons.

"The sword isn't in Winterfell." Robb said. "He would have told me."

"Would he?" Randyll asked. "You were a boy when he came South, and it was true how King Robert detested any mention of the Targaryen's, Lord Stark may have kept it hidden for that reason."

Robb shook his head, but his protest got slower. "I'll head Northwards, Your Grace. If Dark Sister was in the Tower with my Aunt, then there's only one man alive that will know what happened."

"None of this matters if we don't have men to fight on the Wall." Sam argued. "We have a few members of the Night's Watch, and we have the Wildlings."

"You shall have more men, Samwell Tarly." Durran promised. "I want another raven sent out to every House that has lands in my Kingdom. Any man that volunteers for the Night's Watch, their family shall be rewarded. Any prisoner will be given the option of the Wall. I shall personally send 300 of my own men to aid the Wall until this is over, and I will send enough weapons, armour, food and gold for the Watch to arm and feed 2,000 men. This I swear to you on the Old Gods and the New. Westeros shall answer the call."

Durran's task of finding and preparing men to send to the Wall wasn't going well, as he was taken to the White Sword Tower by Ser Barristan. He was led to Ser Jaime's room, and screams could be heard from halfway down the corridor. Barging the door open, he was horrified at what he saw.

His Uncle's torso was stained red with blood from a wound near his shoulder. Durran noticed the blade on a side table, a small dagger that didn't look like it could kill anybody, a stained note was at its side.

"What happened?" Durran demanded to know.

"Ser Jaime was thrown in front of the Red Keep by those Sparrows." Ser Balon explained. "The knife was in his shoulder and the letter was pinned to him."

Jaime screamed again as the Maester tried to cauterise the wound with a hot blade, as Durran was handed the letter.

"Sinner. Sisterfucker. Sinner." He read aloud. "What is this?"

Ser Barristan shifted slightly in the corner of Durran's eye, as Jaime growled. "They ambushed me, Your Grace. I was searching for the barrels, as you commanded…" He began, looking around at the few Kingsguard and the young Maester in the room. Durran trusted them all.

"Go on, Ser Jaime. Nobody will tell." Durran nodded.

Jaime sighed, and continued. "I was looking through some of the passages and found hundreds of barrels of wildfire. I was shocked at the number and found the nearest way out. They were all under the Sept of Baelor."

"Wildfire?" Barristan asked, horrified.

"The Mad King's final plan, Ser." Durran said solemnly. "He was going to destroy the entire city if my Uncle hadn't have stopped him."

Barristan had to sit down, as his mind worked through the information. "That's why Rossart was Hand… but surely not? He wasn't that mad… yes he was." He sighed, defeated. "I should never have saved him at Duskendale." He growled.

"You did your duty." Durran told him. "The blame isn't yours."

Ser Barristan was grateful for that, as he stood back up and looked towards the injured Jaime. "All these years… I'm so sorry. I should never have judged you so cruelly."

Jaime grimaced as the Maester began sewing up the wound. "The blame isn't yours Lord Commander." He spat out.

Durran wanted to bring the conversation back to what had happened. "So you made your way to the surface."

Jaime nodded. "And after walking a way towards the castle I was set upon by those Sparrows. I was taken to some small room and the High Sparrow himself came and threw these… accusations, at me. Calling me sister fucker, and traitor, and Kingslayer. He said that I had fathered all my sister's children and that the entire city would know what I've done before stabbing that letter to me and marching me threw the growing crowd. That's when I was picked up."

Durran was furious. "These, accusations." He growled for the benefit of the people that didn't know the truth. "Have they spread?"

Balon Swann nodded. "The entire crowd are screaming at the gates trying to get in. We're holding them off as they have no true force, but the numbers were growing when I last checked."

Durran nodded quickly. "Very well. I've been lenient, I've been law abiding, but this is an attack on my own name and I cannot let this go."

"What are your orders, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.

Durran turned to Ser Balon. "Go to the bell tower. Tell them to ring for an invasion to get the people back in their homes. Then grab Lord Tarly and head to the barracks. I want the entire city searched. I want every single FUCKING Sparrow either dead or in chains, and I want the High Sparrow alive!"

The Kingsguard knight bowed and fled from the room, rousing Ser Arys in the process. The Maester excused himself after giving instructions for Ser Jaime to rest, leaving Durran alone with his Uncle and Ser Barristan.

"How does he know?" Durran asked when he was sure he wouldn't be overheard.

Jaime grunted as he tried to sit up slightly. "Littlefinger… they raided his brothel and he had left evidence hidden, but not impossible to find."

Durran swore. "Even from the grave he's still fucking me over." He whispered to himself. "We'll deal with this. I'll have men posted throughout the tower for your protection."

Jaime shook his head. "I don't matter, I can still fight if needs be. Keep Cersei safe."

Durran shook his head. "You'll be well guarded, Uncle." He said commandingly, putting the matter to bed.

"As you will, Your Grace." Jaime said, grimacing as he moved. "I'll just be here then."

Durran and Ser Barristan left the room and walked with pace back towards the Red Keep. They stayed silent for the most part, but as they neared Cersei's rooms Ser Barristan spoke.

"Your Grace… these rumours…"

"When the High Sparrow is captured, he will be executed publicly." Durran interrupted. "I will have evidence that Viserys Targaryen slandered my Mother's good name, and that this is a plot manufactured by House Martell."

Ser Barristan looked uneasy. "Can't we just blame Littlefinger? It was his brothel…"

"We could." Durran sighed, turning around to face the elderly protector. "But this way we cut out a fair amount of the uneasiness that surrounds the Martell treatment. If the people think that this is a plot by the Dornish rebels, then it works in our favour more than blaming a man that's been dead for a year." The old knight didn't like it anymore, and Durran continued. "I understand it's not very honourable, but every so often I need to be more like my Grandfather than I'd like. This is the sort of story that he would tell to benefit the House."

Ser Barristan nodded, as the pair walked on again. "If you don't mind me saying, I still don't like the lies, Your Grace, but I understand the reasoning."

Durran smiled, as they reached the door to his Mother's chamber. "And your council is always welcomed Ser." He said, opening the door.

Inside he saw his Mother staring outside on her balcony listening to the bells ringing and Myrcella was sat down holding little Eleanor. They both turned to face Durran and Ser Barristan, Cersei's eyes widening as she saw he was in his leather armour.

"You're not going down there." Cersei said, trying to be commanding.

"No." Durran shook his head. "But your life has been threatened, so we are the last line of defence. I shouldn't worry though; the entire garrison is being called to root out these fanatics." Cersei nodded, as Durran stroked Elaenor's cheek briefly before joining his Mother on the balcony. He stared down and could just about make out the waves of Baratheon, Lannister and Tarly soldiers streaming out of the Red Keep and heading towards the city. "They know." He whispered to her.

Cersei looked confused. "Know about what?"

"The reason I declared against Joffrey." Durran said, hinting.

Cersei's eyes widened in recognition. "How." She spat.

"That's not important. But they attacked Jaime. He's fine, he's resting in his chamber." Durran said quickly, seeing Cersei looked worried. "But you can't see him until this has been dealt with. I will not stoke the fire that's already burning." He turned back to the room where Ser Barristan was by the door. "Ser Barristan. We are safe here for now. Can you go and find Varys for me?"

"The Spider?" Barristan asked.

"Yes." Durran said. "I need that evidence we spoke about."

Three days and plenty of spilled blood afterwards, the Dragonpit had yet again been turned into an arena for execution. Durran's forces had swept through the entire city, raiding houses that had been known to support the Sparrows, and thoroughly ensuring that as many Sparrows were arrested as possible. Fighting spilled to the streets, and hundreds of the Sparrows fell to the blades of the City Watch and Durran's own garrison. A couple of thousand had been captured, and a dozen bodies had been hung around the Dragonpit to make an example of, while the others were steadily being prepared to be transported to the Wall.

The High Sparrow himself was known throughout the city, and many of the citizens of King's Landing supported him and were outraged at the arrests, even when an attack on the Kingsguard was known, so the crowd in the Dragonpit was as large as it had been for Viserys, yet the mood was significantly different.

Sat on the dais with Stannis, Cersei and Myrcella, Durran waited until the man was brought towards the block. He looked fairly pathetic, his ragged robes even dirtier than usual, his hair messy and his bare feet caked in dried blood. Ser Ilyn placed him roughly behind the block, facing the peasant rabble. His mouth was bound, as Durran had decreed.

Myrcella squeezed his hand from his left-hand side, and Durran smiled briefly before standing, making himself visible to the entirety of the Dragonpit. Silence fell.

"Today is a difficult one." He called out. "As a firm follower in the Seven, the choice between the law and the faith here has not been easy. Do I forgive the many indiscretions of the group known as the Sparrows as the Seven-Pointed Star has taught me, do I welcome the High Sparrow back to us with open arms? Or do I uphold the law as the Seven have bid me to do, to give judgement where it is required." He pointed towards the High Sparrow. "This man, after being warned numerous times has continued to use his group take the law into his own hands. Murdering your brothers and sisters, mutilating the very meaning of law and defiling buildings because it displeases them."

A few in the crowd continued to shout for the High Sparrows freedom, but Durran didn't let up. "An assault upon the Kingsguard is an assault upon the King, but in such circumstances I could forgive it if the perpetrator confessed and repented. This man has not done the latter, but even then, with a promise of future good behaviour, I could forgive him. What I cannot forgive, is being the conduit of treason."

Varys came forwards at his cue and handed Durran a document. Raising his voice, Durran read from the parchment. "In the name of Viserys, of House Targaryen. I, Oberyn of House Martell do give permission for the plan to go ahead. Go into the city my friend, cause chaos for the Usurper's spawn and prime the city for the Rightful King."

The crowd were stunned silence, before calls of traitor came from a few, and a tomato or two hit the High Sparrow. Durran held his hand up for silence again. "This is but one of many correspondences with the traitors of House Martell proving beyond all doubt that we have been deceived. The Sparrow movement was nothing more than a plot of Viserys Targaryen's, that continued long after his death. For that, I ask you all. How can I forgive him?"

A few murmurs asking for his head were heard, and Durran continued. "He also, on the order of Viserys Targaryen spread the heinous lies that the Queen Mother herself committed treason, and that myself and my siblings are nothing but bastards. To that I laugh. The Gods themselves chose me to win the War of the Four Kings, and no man nor woman can deceive the Gods. I ask you all again. How can I forgive?"

As he had hoped, the crowd were larger in their calls this time, as the majority of them believed his words and were calling for the High Sparrow's head. Durran held his hand up one last time for silence, waiting for quiet to fall. "I agree, even if I wanted to I can't forgive the slander, and I certainly cannot forgive treason, and as decreed by the law that the Sparrows were so willing to break, the punishment for treason is death. Ser Ilyn!"

The roar of the crowd went up, as they cheered the decision. Durran sat back down in his seat and turned to Stannis. "They all wanted him saved a minute ago."

Stannis nodded grimly. "You were very convincing." He said unhappily.

Durran sat back. "I had to, if I had executed him without such a reason we'd have riots on our hands."

Stannis didn't reply, just stared forwards as the axe was raised, and lowered again with pace. Myrcella jumped at the sound of the axe meeting neck, and Durran just held her hand again. He didn't like what he had done, but in a choice between lying to the crowd over such a small matter or letting his family remain in danger, he knew he had made the right choice.

Durran didn't stay long at the Dragonpit after the execution, as he quickly made his way back to the Red Keep's own dock to see off Samwell Tarly and his Wildling girl down to Oldtown. He arrived as the fat Tarly hugged Robb.

"You send anything you find to Winterfell. I mean anything, whether it looks like it's mildly or incredibly important." Robb said.

"I will do, My Lord." Sam nodded, and Robb grinned, as Sam turned to Mance. "Don't destroy the Wall just yet."

Mance chuckled, and the two locked arms in a mark of respect. Randyll Tarly moved forwards then, clearly unhappy at being here. "I once forbade you to head to Oldtown." He said gruffly.

"I am a man of the Night's Watch." Sam said strongly, not looking at his Father. "I am no longer bound by your word, Lord Tarly."

Durran thought he saw the hint of a smile briefly appear on Randyll's lips, but it was so quick he wasn't sure. "Very well. Do your duty and find us something." The Tarly patriarch said.

Durran stepped forwards at that moment. "Good luck, Samwell." He said, shaking Sam's hand.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you for all you are doing for the Watch." Sam said back.

Durran smiled. "Well, it's only me doing a duty that has been lacking for centuries by the King."

"I mean it." Sam said. "All the men, weapons and food… it's sorely needed."

"When this is all over, I want you to keep me updated on the matters of the Watch." Durran told Sam. "I shall not have it fall into the same level of disrepair as we find it in now."

Sam smiled happily, before he stepped onto the longboat that was taking him to his ship and sat down. His eyes widened however, and he stood up again. "Lord Stark!"

Robb walked closer. "What is it?"

"I'm so sorry, I forgot all about this… As I crossed back through the Wall I met your brother." Sam said shyly.

"Well, Jon is a member of the Night's Watch." Robb replied, not understanding where the joke was.

Sam shook his head. "Not Jon. Brandon."

Robb stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. "That's a cruel joke." He growled.

"I… I promise." Sam pleaded. "It's no joke. I met him, Hodor and two children of Lord Reed's at the Nightfort. I gave them Dragonglass to protect them… I tried to stop them going North I really did…"

Robb's hand went to cover his mouth. "You're lying."

Sam shook his head sadly. "Summer was there too."

Robb's hand went through his hair as he gasped. "He's alive…"

"He was." Sam said, stating the tense clearly. "But North of the Wall… it's dangerous."

"Did he mention Rickon?" Robb asked quickly. "Sam!"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "He said… he said that Rickon was heading for Last Hearth. That the Umber's would look after him."

Robb stood back to take it all in. "Thank you… thank you." He whispered.

Sam smiled. "I hope you find them." He sat back down and began rowing the boat out to sea, leaving Robb Stark alone with thoughts of his brothers' whereabouts swimming around in his head.

Meanwhile, in a room in one of the deepest parts of the Red Keep, the Red Woman Melisandre stared into the flames as she had done thousands of times before. As the fire crackled and danced, images became clearer in her head. Red hair on top of a wall made of Ice and a necklace shining black. The scene in the flames then shifted, as a vision that had been shown to the Red Priests and Priestesses for thousands of years played out in the fire. A man shoving his sword into his wife's heart, although this was different. The hair wasn't like Melisandre had seen before, as Nissa Nissa this time had dark hair, and Azor Ahai's was as pale as the moon, and it was snowing.

More images then flew through Melisandre's mind, images of herself covered in snow performing feats she had never seen before. How was this to be interpreted? What did R'hllor need her to do? An hour went by like seconds, and all she knew was that she was needed in the North. The how to get there was a different challenge however, and she while she knew she had some power in her blood, she needed more for the tasks at hand.

Sighing, she got herself to her feet and put on one of her crimson robes, before leaving her chambers and walking over to the Black Cells. She snuck into one of the more popular ones, the room filled with Sparrows waiting to be transported to the Wall.

As the door opened, the faint flame of the torch in her hand showed that all of the faces inside the Black Cell had turned towards her. "Is this another test? Has the Maiden herself come for us?" One whispered hoarsely.

"No, dear man. I am no maiden, only a humble servant of God." Melisandre smiled, beginning to chant under her breath, waving the flame around.

"Which God?" He asked again.

Melisandre smiled sweetly at the direction of the voice. "R'hllor."

Unease set in the cell, as the sparrows began murmuring about heathens. Melisandre paid them no attention, instead saying her prayer. "By the light of R'hllor, the Heart of Fire and the God of Flame and Shadow. May your heathen bodies rest well, as your minds combine to serve the Lord of Light. Grant him the power needed to strengthen R'hllor's will as the battle creeps ever closer. Lord of Light, through my body let your will be granted. Through my body let your power shine through and assist you in the battle with the darkness. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

As she finished, the torch light hummed, as it flashed brighter intermittently, getting larger with each hum of light. Soon the fire was too large for her to handle, and Melisandre dropped the torch on the ground.

The flame shot out as if pitch lined the floor, and the cell was nothing but burning men and screams as loud as anything Melisandre had heard. She didn't care though, as inside her body she began to feel better than she ever had before. Grinning, she took a step back, the fire on the ground going out where she placed her foot, only to reignite when she moved it again. Opening the door and closing it quickly, she was surprised to hear the screams suddenly stop, as R'hllor had soundproofed the door.

Tapping her necklace briefly, she felt the familiar feeling of power flow through her, as she glamoured herself as a man, before walking into a different cell and sitting down, waiting to be taken to the Wall.

So yeah, a different, more powerful Melisandre. She will be an important player in the end game!

Another Baratheon is born too in the height of a terrible storm. A true Baratheon but with Margaery to bring him up. If I ever think of a plot for a sequel he would be fascinating to write.

Robb knows about Rickon and Bran too. I thought that with everything going on at the Wall, Sam would forget about it, but with it being his last meeting with Robb for a while then it made sense that he would remember.

The Sparrows are done too. I thought that even though it's dishonourable lying like that, Durran was led there with the threats against Jaime escalating, and his Mother being next.

That's it from me this week then! I'll be back for No Mercy again on Thursday, and the next chapter of this story in a weeks' time, where Dany comes back to King's Landing, as does Ser Davos Seaworth.

Reviews:

trollzor69: Maybe, eventually.

Hail King Cerion: I agree that Randyll will only truly accept Sam if he sees him in combat. You were right about the match. I'm not planning on showing Dany in Braavos personally, I didn't feel I could do the negotiations justice.

LunaEvanna Longbottom: There'll be 46 chapters total. As for a sequel, I don't think I'll do one. I'm looking to go beyond the final battle with the Night King in this one and I don't see myself doing more than an epilogue.

Guest (Robb's children): The Treaty of Hayford specified that a Baratheon Princess would marry Robb's heir, so there was never any worry of Robb sending children to King's Landing.

Lightningscar: The High Sparrow doesn't really have any true power except the power of words this time, so while he can be effective, he can't do half as much damage as he did in canon which helps Durran feel dominant over him. I'm glad it was believable. I'm lucky enough to have never had such a reaction, so it was mainly drawn from symptoms and experience with other people's panic attacks. That meeting took place as soon as they got to the Capital, and the sea is known to be colder than the land, so he didn't have time to truly change. The Hawaiian shirts are a fun idea, maybe a gift from the Summer Islands haha! I figured that Durran doesn't really believe them 100%, but the fear in Mance/Sam's eyes and in Robb he has a man where Durran trusts his words, so he is trusting them. I'd think Stannis would know true fear from his time under siege personally, but he was the only one there that could have said that and Durran truly take notice, hence he said it. My thinking for Hardhome is that those stationed there are the elders, women and children that don't fight, and that Jon feels that it's better for them to be shipped Southwards before the warriors in case of an early fight. You were just a bit early about Rickon! But yes, he's alive and will be making an appearance soon. Season 5 was full of promise but the changed Dorne story and lack of Aegon and the Golden Company didn't help considering how major they are currently in the books, but boiling it down to a few chapters was handy, and I think Season 6, or the equivalent of Season 6, is going to take place over 4 chapters before the home stretch towards the end.

Robb vs Cersei: I added a brief encounter for you at the start!

Guest (Samwell): Randyll hates Sam, and Sam is scared of Randyll, so neither really wants to talk to the other. As for your story suggestion no I haven't thought about it, and it's highly unlikely that I'd do such a story.

Iron Bank: No he didn't, he said that the crown were in debt and there was no gold in Casterly Rock and that's why they needed the Tyrells.

Wight Dragon: I don't want to spoil any of the final battle as the plans I have are really exciting. It won't disappoint!