I'm not going to lie, I needed that break. While I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a long time I just haven't been able to bring myself to write anything, which is why this was updated so late. Thank you for the patience though, and I hope you enjoy this.

I'm also thinking about just focusing on this story for now. I love No Mercy but there are only around 10 chapters left of this story and I'm excited to get to the end to share all my ideas! The number of chapters remaining may change due to the size of Chapter 45 as we stand, which has 14 scenes in compared to my usual 5 or 6, but most of them are really heavy scenes, so I could be pushing on 2,000 words a scene! I'll see when I come to write it though.

On to this chapter now, and I may be mistaken but this is the first chapter that I can recall true magic seemingly being involved. The Red Woman is a lot more powerful here than she often showed in canon so just have that in your mind as you read.

As always, nothing that you recognise is mine. I only own my original characters.

On the bank of the Weeping Water, far to the North of King's Landing, the Lord of the Dreadfort was sat in the Lord's chair after hearing word of a surprise visitor from the North. He noticed the bastard skulking around in the shadows but paid no mind to him once the doors opened.

In strode the heir to Last Hearth, Smalljon Giantsbane, flanked by a couple of Umber men. He walked up to the Throne and stood there.

"I must say, this is a surprise." Roose admitted. "An Umber meeting in secret with House Bolton is sure to raise a few questions in Winterfell."

"Which is why nobody knows I'm here, other than yourself." Smalljon said bluntly.

"Not even your Father?" Roose asked.

The Smalljon laughed. "He's grown weak. I used to respect him above all else, but he's allowed Jon Snow to settle Wildlings throughout the Gift, and it's only a matter of time before they come to our lands in their numbers and do what they've always done. Together we can stop them."

Roose sat back, considering the unsaid offer. He'd always bided his time, waiting for a Stark to slip up so that his House could pounce, and the Smalljon was almost offering an alliance with House Umber. Almost.

"You have no authority to strike these kinds of bargains." Roose told the tall man. "Your Father is still Lord of Last Hearth, and he is still at the Wall is he not?"

"Drinking himself into his grave, so I'm told." The Smalljon grumbled. "If he'd die quicker then this would be easier."

"And my answer would still be no." Roose said firmly. "I am sworn by oath to House Stark."

The Smalljon grinned. "Don't pretend you're bound by oaths, Leech Lord. I know you well enough from the Southern campaign to know that if you had a chance you'd have sold us all out to further your own schemes. The Wildling fuckers are a threat to us all, and they need to be dealt with."

Roose was growing irritated. "Lord Stark has delicately brokered a truce, so that the greater threat can be defeated. I'd implore you to remember that."

"What greater threat?" The Smalljon asked. "How do we know this isn't some wives tale spun by the Wildlings so that they can come South with ease? Stark's been fooled, and it's time that true Northern leadership was shown in driving them back behind the Wall."

Roose shook his head. "The Bolton's and a handful of Umbers against the rest of the North and the Wildlings? I dislike them too, Jon, but I'm not prepared to go against Robb Stark's judgement with such terrible odds."

"Would it be easier with some leverage?" The Smalljon smirked. Roose raised his eyebrow, intrigued, and watched as one of the Umber guards reached into a bag and threw the black head of a very large wolf at his feet. "The youngest Stark boy is in my custody with his nursemaid."

This certainly grabbed the Lord of the Dreadfort's attention. He stood up and walked towards the severed Direwolf head, crouching down to see that it was authentic. "I saw this beast at Winterfell before we marched South." Roose admitted. "What are you doing with Rickon Stark?"

The Smalljon shrugged. "He survived the sacking of Winterfell and figured we were his safest bet, I don't fucking know. My son took him in and befriended him, but I knew that he was the leverage I need to rid my lands of those goatfuckers from the North."

This changed everything. No longer could Roose just refuse and let the Smalljon walk out as if nothing had happened. On the one hand, a hostage was excellent if any action against the Starks were to be taken, but on the other if Robb Stark caught word of this… His mind made up, Roose turned to the captain of his guard. "Arrest him."

"What?" The Smalljon asked, preparing to draw his sword. Quickly however, crossbow bolts flew from both sides of the room slaughtering the Smalljon's two guards, and the Umber heir was surrounded by swords, as Bolton men closed in.

"Take him to the dungeons. And bring me the Maester. I have a letter to write." Roose ordered. As the Smalljon was forced to drop his sword in pure anger.

The month since Dany returned from Braavos and announced her pregnancy flew by, it seemed. With no Stannis around the King and Queen were thrown into their duties, and barely had time for anything else. Due to this, it took the month for Dany to realise that her Red Woman was seemingly absent from the castle.

It didn't take long to find something however. Dany and Ser Perwyn Frey entered the Red Woman's chambers to find it completely empty. "She never has this fire out." Dany noted, walking towards the fireplace. "Something's wrong."

"Your Grace." Ser Perwyn said, causing the Queen to turn around, and she saw that he was holding some parchment. "It's addressed to you."

Dany walked towards him and took the letter, reading it. "She's gone." She sighed, reading on until she read the last line, and Dany grew confused. "Place this in the fire and understand?" Dany asked nobody in particular. Suddenly though, the fire roared to life. Surprised, Dany ignored the sword being drawn from Ser Perwyn's scabbard and walked slowly towards the flames.

"Your Grace…" Ser Perwyn said warningly, but Dany held her hand up to stop him.

"I'll be perfectly safe Ser." She mentioned, a hand on her bulging belly as she got to her knees and dropped the letter into the fire. Thick black smoke poured from the parchment and spiralled upwards towards Dany, who inhaled it all through her nose. Eyes wide, she stared into the flames as images flashed in her mind.

What seemed like hours to Daenerys, was only a brief second to Ser Perwyn, who immediately dropped his sword as Dany fell backwards, catching her in his arms before she fell. "Your Grace! Are you alright?"

"Yes…" She said hoarsely. "How long was I gone for?"

"Gone?" Perwyn asked. "The letter burned, and blackened, you inhaled it's essence and then fell backwards. You weren't gone at all."

"Impossible…" Dany breathed quietly, before composing herself. Letting Perwyn help her up, she patted her dress down before looking up at the tall Kingsguard knight. "Take me to Cersei." She commanded.

Perwyn was baffled. "I should take you to the King…"

"You will take me to see Cersei." Dany interrupted. "I must speak with her, urgently."

Cersei was certainly surprised when Daenerys came barging through her doors with her Kingsguard protector. Putting down her needlework, she looked up at the Queen. "Your Grace? How may I assist you?"

"Keep guard outside Perwyn." Dany said calmly. Ser Perwyn looked to hesitate, but bowed his head and walked outside, shutting the doors. Dany sat herself down facing Cersei and sighed. "We need to talk."

"About?" The Queen Mother asked.

"Maggy the Frog."

Cersei's eyes widened as her face grew pale. "How do you know that name." She whispered coldly.

"I saw a vision." Dany said. "In the flames, I saw many visions. One of them was you as a child meeting someone called Maggy the Frog."

Cersei glared, and stood up, facing her window. "I don't know what you think you saw…"

"I saw you give her your blood, and I heard her prediction. It came true, didn't it." Dany said softly. "The fight to tear your house usunder, your most beloved falls to thunder. That was about Joffrey dying in the civil war."

"Enough!" Cersei screamed, a tear falling from her eye. "Stop."

"I heard the rest, about your children and King Robert's." Dany said softly. I was shown it, so you would believe me about the rest."

"Get out." Cersei said weakly.

"I need your advice." Dany told her. "You hated King Robert, likely more than Viserys did, definitely more than I do. But Durran still holds him in high esteem, which is why I need someone that knows him as well as I do to help me decide whether I should tell him this."

Cersei turned to face the Queen. "He trusts you far more than he trusts me." Cersei sighed. "I don't know how well I know him anymore."

Dany shook her head. "He trusts you, he just doesn't want to be hurt by you again."

That stung, Cersei thought, although she knew that it was justified. "What do you need to tell him?"

Dany wrung her hands together. "I was shown a vision, a vision of my brother, Rhaegar."

This interested Cersei, as she sat back down. "I fancied myself in love with him." She reminisced. "At the Tourney of Lannisport, I heard we were to be married, which is why I went to see that witch." She spat the last part. "Your Father had the last laugh however, married him off to the weak Martell girl."

"He never loved Elia." Dany said. "He loved another, and she loved him back. He annulled his marriage in order to marry another."

Cersei was confused, but the cogs turning in her brain worked it out. "Stark…" She whispered, before breaking out into a hearty laugh. "The fool, the great buffoon. He started a war to find his lost love when she wanted another man." Her laughs continued as she poured herself some wine and gave a toast towards the sky. "How about that you giant oaf. The love of your life happily fucking the man you hated so much."

"She was pregnant, in the end." Dany said quietly. "I don't know what happened, but she was pregnant."

Cersei's smile fell. "If she birthed a baby and it survived…"

"Then Durran would still be the rightful King, by right of conquest." Dany shook her head, stopping the thought from forming fully in her own mind.

"It would cause trouble though, and so soon after Viserys." Cersei sighed. "The Spider can never know. Nobody can know."

"I should tell Durran that his Father started the war on false information though, and that Lyanna was pregnant." Dany sighed. "But how would he take it?"

Cersei wasn't sure. "It's inconsequential." She decided. "Durran is the rightful King and he has beaten back all claims. Even if the Stark girl did birth a child, they would have died. Bothering him with this isn't necessary."

"Bothering him with what?" A voice came from the doorway. The two women hadn't noticed the door opening and stood there looking concerned was the hulking figure of Durran, with Myrcella next to him.

Dany immediately stood up. "Durran, we didn't hear you come in." She said quickly.

"I can tell. Bother me with what?" Durran asked.

Cersei swept over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Come, my love." She said to Myrcella. "Let us go and see how the seamstresses are doing with your new gowns, this one is barely keeping together around your chest."

Mycella looked at Durran, mortified. "Mother!" The 14-year-old exclaimed.

Cersei chuckled as she guided her arm around Myrcella's back. "Come sweetling, Durran is a married man now, he knows all about what you're going through." Turning back to Dany, she said. "Do what you think is best."

Dany watched as the door shut, and she turned and poured herself a small glass of wine, downing it quickly before pouring another and offering it to Durran. He shook his head. "Not right now. What's going on?" He persisted.

Dany sighed, and sat back down. "You know the Red Woman, she had these visions."

"She's evil." Durran scowled. "I've just found out that she had the majority of the Sparrows burnt alive, one of the Black Cells is covered in ash. I know you trust her, but I can't have her in my city."

This news shocked Dany, but she had to put it to one side for the moment. "She's gone, she didn't tell me where." She explained. "But when I looked in the flames in her room, I saw things, both in the flames and in my mind."

Durran raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I." Dany threw her hands up in exasperation, leaning back into the chair. "Some things were clear, and some are still just riddles to me."

Durran smiled at the sight of the pregnant woman. "Tell me what you think you saw then, we can try and work through it together."

Dany nodded. "I saw a roaring fire freeze completely."

"Frozen flames could imply the Walkers, or even the Starks." Durran offered.

"I saw a small dragon dancing with a squid."

Durran's smile fell. "The last dance you saw implied Shireen and Edmure marrying, I won't marry any of my children off to a Greyjoy."

Dany grinned at how protective he seemed. "Down boy, we don't know if that's what it means. It could mean a fight, I'm not sure."

Durran pondered on that. "That's true, Balon Greyjoy has been almost silent recently since he was kicked out of the North. I'll get Varys to keep an eye on the West."

Dany nodded, breathing slightly easier. "Why are these visions happening to me." She whispered. "I'm not special."

Durran laughed softly, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his. "You are the most special person in the entire world, Daenerys Stormborn. The last blood of Valyria, the Mother of Dragons. Queen of Westeros and of my heart. Whether this is a gift from the Seven or the Red God is truly real, I do not know, but magic is in your blood."

"I saw a dragon too." Dany said, frowning as she tried to remember. "But it had three eyes."

"You, and our two children." Durran grinned. "Doesn't House Targaryen put a lot of faith into the three heads or something."

Dany shook her head. "Three eyes, not three heads."

"If these were easy to decipher, then the Red Priests of Volantis would rule the entire world by now." Durran rolled his eyes.

Dany thought about her two clearest visions, of Cersei and of Rhaegar. Deciding against telling him about them yet, she had only one puzzle left in her mind. "The last thing I saw… I saw a body in the blizzard, staining the snow red."

This chilled Durran. "Did you see who it was?"

Dany shook her head. "No, I could barely see anything through the snowfall. Just black."

Hardhome had affected them all. Every man, woman and child had been haunted on the journey back to Castle Black, and none more than Jon Snow. As soon as the majority of Wildlings had passed through the Wall, he shut himself away in his chambers, solemnly dabbing at a cut on Ygritte's cheek from the blade of a wight.

"Keep it clean." He said monotonously, as he washed the cloth again. "You don't want it to corrupt."

"If you say so, Jon Snow." Ygritte smirked, before falling back to a stoic look. "You can't blame yourself."

"Three of my brothers died because I took them to Hardhome." Jon argued. "That was my choice, and they died."

"Aye, and thousands still live because you went there." Ygritte countered, jabbing Jon in the chest. "Thousands live because you took the chance to talk to Mance. We owe you our lives, Jon Snow. Some twice over."

"You don't owe me anything." Jon waved off, turning to his letters. He read that the Hand of the King Stannis Baratheon was heading Northwards with a host of men to join the Night's Watch and was grateful for the good news. "Robb managed to convince the King then." He smiled briefly.

"Aye, and he's offered rewards to the families of volunteers." Jon nodded. "This is good, we can start manning the other castles once enough arrive."

Ygritte grinned sultrily, and stood leaning over on Jon's desk, her eyes looking up to his. "Are you going to send me away, Jon Snow." She teased.

Jon smirked. "I'd keep you here forever if I could." He told her. "Maybe once this is all over, we can see what happens. If we win, there may be no need for the Night's Watch."

Ygritte looked surprised. "I thought you were tied to this place with your oath?"

Jon shrugged. "I broke it in the cave." He chuckled softly. "I don't know. While there's a Watch then I'll do my duty, even if it tears me away from you."

Ygritte leaned forwards and kissed him roughly. "I told you before." She began. "You're mine, and I'm yours."

Jon smiled, remembering the last time she said those words. "If we die, we die." He continued, taking her hand in his, softly rubbing her hand with his thumb.

"But first, we'll live." Ygritte whispered, pushing all of Jon's papers on the floor and climbing on the desk, ready to take the Lord Commander in a way that only she could.

Sansa held her nephew on the ramparts of Winterfell, again looking down on Arya training hard with Brienne of Tarth. Now that Winterfell had for the most part been fully repaired and the mourning period for the death of Ser Garlan had passed, the day that she was due to leave for Highgarden had arrived.

"I hope you remember your Aunt Sansa." The red head said softly to the 9-month-old. She had spent as much time as possible with the heir to Winterfell in the months since his birth, and he seemed to like her more than he did Arya, though Sansa's hair being one of Brandon's favourite things to grab was likely the reason. "I may not get to see you for a long time but know that I'll always love you."

"He will always love you too." A soft voice came from behind her, and both Brandon and Sansa recognised the voice. Turning around, Sansa set Brandon on the floor as he crawled over to his Mother.

"Lady Roslin." Sansa curtseyed quickly, as the woman she was speaking to bent down to pick her son up.

"Your Mother is ready." Roslin said sadly.

Sansa sighed, staring out on the light snowfall filling the air. For the year the ground had been covered white, as winter was soon approaching. "Thank you." She said sadly, keeping an eye in the distance.

Roslin noticed this. "A raven came from White Harbour saying that Robb had arrived at Moat Cailin, but it was only dated two days ago. He was within the Neck for over a week."

Sansa tried not to get upset. "So he won't be here in a week, let alone an hour." Breathing deeply, she kept strong. "Very well, I can't leave Willas waiting."

Roslin had a sad smile, as she gave her sister by law a one-handed hug. "Write often, I want to hear how beautiful the Reach is." Roslin said.

"Of course I will." Sansa smiled, as she looked down at Brandon. "I'll want to hear all about this one growing up."

Leaning down, she planted a kiss on the squirming boy's forehead before the two women made their way down to the stables, where Catelyn had already gathered Sansa's belongings in the cart. Around a dozen soldiers were coming with them to the wedding, but Arya was staying behind as the only Stark in Winterfell, though Roslin was in charge until Robb returned.

"Are you ready?" Cat asked her eldest daughter.

"Were you when you knew you had to marry Father?" Sansa asked.

Cat laughed lightly. "Our wedding was so rushed we didn't have anywhere near the time you have had to think about it. Willas seems a lovely man, with a capable mind. He will treat you well."

Sansa nodded, but didn't reply. Instead she chose to brush her horse as Catelyn commanded somebody to go and fetch Arya, who arrived in moments.

"So, you're going then." Arya said.

"I am." Sansa replied.

Arya let out a smirk. "I'm almost sorry for you, going South again."

Sansa breathed out a laugh. "It will be better than last time."

Arya's smile dropped, as she looked seriously into Sansa's blue eyes. "If you need help, send me a raven at Moat Cailin and I'll come and help you."

Thinking back to their relationship before leaving for King's Landing, Sansa's eyes brimmed with tears. She caught her sister in a fierce hug, who half-heartedly returned the display of affection. "I will." Sansa whispered. Stepping away, Sansa wiped a tear away with her glove before mounting her horse, and the call to depart was heard.

She stayed in silence throughout the journey that day, and remained silent as they stopped at Castle Cerwyn that night, only politely speaking to the new Lady of House Cerwyn, Jonella, and her husband Beren Tallhart. Catelyn noticed this, and spoke with her as they were getting ready to sleep that night.

"I know it's difficult, and I understand you're cautious about this wedding." Cat said. "But this is a marriage that can have an impact on the North for generations to come, you have always been a dutiful girl Sansa, if the thought of getting married does not make you smile as it once did, then think of what this means for your home. The trade we can gain from this will feed us all for years, and the Tyrell's will be good to you."

Her words had made Sansa think that night, and while all she wanted was to turn around and stay in Winterfell for the rest of her days, she used every lesson that she had learnt in King's Landing and put on a smile.

Weeks after Dany was rocked by the visions came the first visit to the capital for the newest member of House Baratheon of Storm's End. Stefan and Margaery had travelled up from the Stormlands to present Lyonel to court, and after a small feast for the court to welcome the baby Baratheon into the world, Dany and Durran had invited them to their chambers for a quieter drink. Elaenor was quite content playing in the corner with Myrcella, a couple of dolls in her hands, while the four adults were reminiscing about the past.

"It's strange to believe that she will soon be two." Margaery admitted.

Durran nodded, smiling happily at his daughter. "Yes, I remember the day she was born like yesterday. She's the light that kept me going through the Dornish problem."

"I can understand that now." Stefan nodded, Lyonel asleep in his remaining arm. "I'd do anything to keep Lyonel safe."

"It's a shame Lord Stannis isn't here." Margaery said. "We had hoped he could meet his grandson."

Dany nodded. "We do too, but with the news coming from the North it was urgent. I'm sure he'll be back soon to meet this little one." She said, smiling at the baby while resting her hand on her own bump.

"How long have you got left?" Stefan asked the Queen.

"Two moons, I believe." Dany said unhappily. "I just want to meet him now."

"Him?" Durran said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Dany nodded. "We've got our girl, it's high time we got you an actual heir to the throne."

Margaery was surprised. "Elaenor won't be the heir?"

Durran shook his head. "The law states that women cannot be the outright ruler, and in any case she is to marry Robb Stark's son when they are of age, I won't be handing the Iron Throne over to a Stark any time soon. As we stand, little Lyonel here is the third in line for the Throne."

"If there's a throne to come back too." Stefan said, and the mood darkened. "We got your raven about sending men to the Wall, it can't be true, can it?"

Durran nodded. "If you had seen the faces of Tarly and Mance Rayder, then you'd understand. They were haunted, like the very mention would bring the Walkers into the room. We need everybody ready, from Last Hearth to the Arbor."

Stefan nodded. "We have lost a lot of men over the last few years, but the few we do still have are training fiercely. The Stormlands will be ready, you have my word."

Durran grinned at his cousin, but Dany stopped them both. "None of this talk with the children here, please. I don't want to scare Elle." She said, nervously looking into the corner where Myrcella was doing a fine job keeping the toddler entertained. The two men hastily apologised, much to Margaery's amusement.

"My Grandmother would like you." The Tyrell grinned. "Having the King of the Realm on puppet strings."

Durran pouted at the insinuation but joined in the laughter as the four friends caught up further. It was a rare moment when he got to relax with his family, and he intended to make the most of it while he still could.

The Dreadfort dungeons were a horrid place. Throughout history men had been brought here, and very rarely did they ever see the light of day again. The Smalljon was tied to a cross, shouting and screaming at everybody that could hear him. His loud bellows only stopped when the door to his cell opened, and in came Ramsay Snow, flicking a thin knife between his fingers.

"You better let me go." Umber warned."

Ramsay had a wry grin on his face. "Or what?" He asked.

"Or I swear, you'll feel the wrath of Last Hearth." Smalljon growled.

Ramsay did his best to look worried, before bursting into laughter again. "You said it yourself, nobody knows where you are. My Father could be up there spinning all manners of tales to Robb Stark and nobody could discredit them."

"Father?" Umber asked. "You're the Bastard."

Ramsay's face fell into a scowl at the word. "I am his natural son, yes." He grimaced, flicking the knife again. "And you want to be a bit nicer to me."

"And why is that?" Umber rolled his eyes. "You can't kill me, I'm the heir to…"

"You're a traitor!" Ramsay exclaimed gleefully. "You came here to incite my Father to rebel against House Stark. You are nothing more than a traitor now, Lord Umber." He stepped forwards, and held the thin blade in front of the Smalljon's face. "This blade, it's been passed down from generation to generation of Boltons, and it's severed the skin off of many Starks, Karstarks, Umbers, even a few Greystarks at one point before they died."

Ramsay disappeared behind the Smalljon, who would never admit it, but began to feel some fear creeping into his bones. "Do what you are going to do then." He growled.

"If you insist." Ramsay said nonchalantly from behind, and the Smalljon was suddenly falling forwards, as the binding around his hands was cut. "Do you really think my Father would agree to go against the Stark's in the open like that? You Umbers have no subtlety, you left him no choice but to arrest you."

"Then why are you here?" Umber asked.

Ramsay grinned. "Because you're right. The Starks aren't fit to rule, their decisions have shown that. But in order to take them down, we need to play it smart."

The Smalljon was intrigued. "And how do we do that?"

Ramsay grinned once again, a devilish glint in his eyes. "By making our displeasure public. We go to Winterfell and petition him, once we are refused, we can claim injustice. Many of the North will rally against him once they learn how friendly he's getting with the Wildlings."

I'll admit, at one point this chapter was struggling to reach 3,000 words. A change of some scenes and an entirely different Northern plotline later, and here we are at over 5,000!

Is Roose really going to betray Robb like that, or is Ramsay lying? We'll have to wait to find out, but ideally not too long so I better get my writing act together!

Dany's visions are all important too. I won't spoil anything, but I welcome any and all guesses on what the cryptic ones mean! One should be easy, two are fairly straightforward and the other I'd guess is quite difficult. Here's a reminder of Dany's 'visions':

Maggy the Frog speaking to Cersei

Lyanna and Rhaegar's wedding, and subsequent pregnancy

Flames freezing over

A dragon dancing with a squid

A three-eyed dragon

A body in a blizzard, with blood staining the snow.

Lastly, we have Sansa leaving for her wedding to Willas Tyrell, and Jon admitting to Ygritte that as he thinks the Watch will be unnecessary after the War, he doesn't necessarily want to stay in the Watch forever and wants to be with her.

Thanks again for your patience, and I'll see you all next time!

Reviews:

maifa: Jasper sounds more 'Baratheon' than Casper, but I hope you like the name I've picked out!

Many Faced Mage: The baby won't be named for any living character.

Lightningscar: Thanks for the words, it's been a long time I know but I've needed the break. The next chapter marks the end of Season 5. Honestly, I didn't have a place for him so I just sort of forgot, but he'll be at his keep raping and murdering his own peasants I'm sure.

Guest (nym): The baby is being raised with Targaryen's, in the Red Keep. They won't be an issue.

Guest cont: I know that theory and like it for the books. For this story however, that's not the case.

Guest (apologizing): As I mentioned, I just sort of forgot about the Mountain as he's not a massive part of the story, so he's in his keep. It could be a reason, but he's more duty bound and wants to prove himself. The cell was an accident, he had no idea which exact one she was to end up in, nor where the heads were going to be.

AZW330: The name is a Targaryen one that wouldn't look out of place with a Baratheon in my eyes. As for looks, black hair blue eyes all the way. The whole point about House Baratheon is that their DNA is the strongest out of all Houses, and every time a Targaryen has married into the House, the offspring have been black haired, blue eyed.

Hail King Cerion: I like the idea of an epilogue, I just need a lengthy version to write it. Oh if the idea of brother fighting undead brother is one you like, I have one for the final battle that is even more impactful and will (hopefully) cause some real emotion in my readers.