Part 4
Queen of Westeros

Chapter 33

"Jon," Rickon ran through the halls. "Jon! Jon, hurry!"

Jon heard his brother's screams and thought the worst. For a moment he was glad that he wasn't up in his room and instead was in the hall breaking his fast. Since his brother's return he had to admit that he slept a bit more soundly through the night. Things were starting to relax. He had found a few families who had escaped before the massacre and were hiding in the nearby godswood. They had rejoiced when seeing Jon. And upon seeing Bran and Rickon - it was a sign of blessing from the Gods.

Since it was so quiet lately, he was surprised that he found himself enjoying a nice conversation with Osric, Ronnel and Cedric as they sat at the table, breaking their fast. Onya, a serving maid - a member of one of the families they had found, whose father was a guard at Winterfell - turned sharply away from pouring their water and dropped the picture. Her hands were shaking and her smile was gone when she heard Rickon's screaming.

Cedric and Ronnel were the first to draw their swords and turn towards the doorway.

"Rickon," Jon shouted as the little boy came to halt at seeing the frightened and angered expressions of those in the hall. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Forgive me, brother," Rickon looked down shyly. "I just wanted to show you something," he lifted up his hands and opened it.

The men who were in the hall paused, putting their swords back - as did Cedric and Ronnel. Onya covered her face and slowly started to sob before her father - who had been standing at the doorway - brought her into his arms. He looked at Jon who in return gave the man a nod. It would be hard for a lot of people - including Onya to relax once again. Whatever had happened here, Jon was sure that Theon was going to pay for harming the people of Winterfell.

Beth had entered the hall with Rickon and walked slowly towards the table and began to take over Onya's duties. Jon was about to dismiss her, but she had gone away so quickly, he didn't have the time. And right now, there was another pressing matter to attend to - Rickon.

Osric looked to see that Rickon was holding a raven. He glanced at Jon who slowly took the bird from Rickon's hands. It squawked and pecked at Jon's fingers before Jon was able to get the small piece of parchment tied to the bird's foot. Almost immediately the bird took off and flew out one of the windows - perhaps going to Maester Luwin's towers. Jon opened the parchment and smiled.

"When did you find this," Jon asked his brother.

"We were," Rickon paused and looked away guiltily.

Jon knelt in front of his brother. "Whatever it is, Rickon, you won't get in trouble for it."

Rickon's eyes shifted behind him and Jon turned to see him looking at Beth.

"Beth won't get in trouble, either."

"She didn't do anything," Rickon said hastily before glancing down at his feet. "She was the one who told us not to. But Calon said that no one would know," Rickon replied quickly.

"Rickon," Jon scolded lightly.

Rickon sighed before glancing towards one of the tables with guards on them. "We were sheep," he paused and looked at the guard again, "sheep-shitting." Jon followed his gaze and hid a laugh. He knew what Rickon was attempting to convey. He shook his head and stood up to face Ronnel.

"What," Ronnel questioned when a few other heads turned to him.

Jon chuckled before walking towards him. "You might want to clean your," he paused and shook his head, "your furs in your bunk."

"Why you little shits," Ronnel chuckled as Rickon took off, Calon, Tom and even Beth were laughing. Unlike the boys, Beth stayed put and helped with the duties until Onya had appeared again.

Bran smiled from the doorway and was encouraged to enter by Jon. Bran looked up at Hodor and Osha who pushed the chair in. Jon glanced at the contraption and was sure that Tyrion Lannister had assisted in it - he said that he had a design to help Bran ride. And since he was a Lord's son - Bran would most definitely be cared for in that regard.

"Will you accept it," Bran asked with a smile - a true, genuine smile.

"I do not know."

"Nysa demanded it," Bran replied.

"Aye, she did," Jon nodded as they came face to face.

"She is our good-sister and our Queen."

Jon sighed and shook his head. "I will think on the matter. But there is other good news in here."

"What is it," asked Cedric Forrester as he the rest of them began to stand.

Jon thought a moment about telling them about the legitimization. Instead, he decided to forgo that part. He turned around to face the small group that was gathered there. "The Queen is with child. An heir to the North will be born soon."

The men cheered as Jon glanced down at the letter. Nysa appeared to be happy in the letter, happy to be wed, happy to be with child. But if he knew her like he believed he did, there was a small part of her that wasn't truly happy. Bran had mentioned seeing her and Robb arguing, plots developing around them. The only thing Jon could do was to pray that Nysa would survive.

Edmure smiled and held out his arm for the young Queen to take. Robb and Catelyn had been right. Something transpired the day after his wedding - the day after their attack. Right now, the King had just dismissed Edmure and Ser Patrek from his war council - along with Ser Danwell and a few Frey knights. They were to be in charge of defending the Riverlands, fortifying it should Tywin decide to march on the Riverlands while Robb was capturing Casterly Rock. They had received their instructions and one look from Nysa informed Robb that she trusted Edmure would get the job done.

While the King remained in the hall, speaking with the Northern Lords about news of Lord Bolton and their impending battle, Edmure escorted Nysa out of the room and down to the kitchens. She had been starving, but refused to mention the matter out loud. Robb would have ended the meeting there and then in order to attend to her.

"I wanted to express my gratitude, my Lord," Nysa remarked, "for all that you have done."

"You are the Queen and..."

"I meant about standing up for your Lady wife and those who are kin to her," Nysa interrupted. "For defending Robb and I," she added, "and I'm sure there will be other opportunities that lie ahead."

They continued walking, receiving curtsies and head bows from those whom they passed by. Three guards from Riverrun followed behind them.

"It's rather difficult being Queen," she sighed. "Amazing how quickly my station was lifted in one day and with that everyone expects things of you. I'm sure you feel the same."

The young Lord chuckled. "I only want to do what is right for the Riverlands and for my House," he replied. "I know we did not see eye to eye during our early interactions, but I have faith that you will make an excellent Queen of the Trident as I will make a good liege Lord for the Trident."

"Thank you for your confidence," Nysa added. "Again, I want to express my appreciation for the way you handled your wife and House Frey. There are not many who agree with me about the mercy they were shown. Apparently, I was too forgiving. And now I'm beyond naive for keeping the rest of the male descendants of House Frey alive."

"What did they want you to do? Burn them all?"

"Perhaps," Nysa shrugged. "What are you thoughts?"

Edmure nodded, thinking a moment before giving his answer. "Believe me when we first woke, I wanted to yell at my wife, berate her. I did feel deceived, cheated almost. But there was a look in her eyes, pleading like. She urged me to hear the whole story - her side of the story, too."

"Her side," Nysa asked as they took a turn.

"Although the King had never chosen his bride, she always assumed that it would have been her," Edmure suggested.

Nysa smiled lightly, remembering a few conversations she had with Roslin - one of them being exactly that. "I believe that she and Robb would have got along quite nicely." She looked down and for a moment pictured Roslin as a Queen. "She has a humble personality, coupled with a feminine determination that escapes most Ladies. Yes," nysa nodded, "she would have been wonderful Queen Stark."

Edmure chuckled. "I do not think she would have lasted in the North, though."

The young Queen turned to Edmure to see that he was indeed jesting with her. "She will do wonders in Riverrun," Nysa added which made Edmure nod in agreement.

"Aye, I agree on that matter." He paused their walk and turned to face her. "May I tell you a story I heard as a child?" She nodded. "House Frey wasn't always indecent. According to rumor, they produced fine knights who fought gallantly during any and every tourney. My sister, Catelyn, once said that compassion is like a river. You throw a jagged rock into the river and over time, it will smooth it out. That's how compassion works. Your mercy towards House Frey will smooth out the rough edges. You may not have fine knights as there were in the past, but in time, you'll see the beauty of your efforts."

Nysa smiled at that.

"I kept that in mind, when my wife and I speak - not just about her father, but the rest of her kin as well."

"Good advice," Nysa nodded. "I must say that I am glad that I chose you for Roslin, also. I believe the two of you will be happy."

"Aye, I must say that she is pleased with the alternative as a husband," he smiled at Nysa as she shook her head.

"You truly are a jester. I can understand why you and Ser Patrek are close friends."

Edmure laughed this time. "The young Lords in the Riverlands have to entertain themselves in some manner."

"You and Ser Patrek are married men now," she smiled.

"Aye and it's my wife's job to set me on the straight and narrow," he replied. "Although I am grateful for all that my Queen has done also."

Nysa smiled. "Thank you, Edmure. That means a lot to me."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Your welcome, Nysa." She smiled in reply. "You and I are truly going to learn a lot from one another, aren't we?" Before she could answer, he continued. "Roslin shared with me something very interesting while we were discussing her father's betrayal. She said that he almost told you about Lord Bolton's plot, her father that is. He discussed it with his sons and he knew that many of them felt that you had made your amends."

"That didn't stop him though, did it?"

Nysa's voice was bitter and she could tell that Edmure had flinched at the tone.

"No, it did not. According to Roslin, she had never thought a woman would be able to sway her father the way that you did. You've impressed them - all of them. They're looking forward to a bright future - something that you painted for the young Frey children. You made all of them feel important. Walder Frey saw that."

"But Bolton tempted him," Nysa finished.

"It would appear that he did."

Nysa turned to him, "What do you mean, it would appear that he did?"

Edmure chuckled. "I wonder if Walder Frey was content with having his granddaughter become Lady Bolton." Nysa blinked at that revelation. "You helped to arrange four marriages, two of which were to great Riverlands Houses - House Tully and House Mallister. Not to mention House Frey receives Harrenhal and his granddaughter will be the Queen's sister-by-law," Edmure tilted his head with a knowing smile. "That should have been sufficient enough to trump Lord Bolton's offer. What else could he possibly have promised Roslin's father?"

"You're right," Nsya whispered. "Why did I not see that? That is what Roslin told you, isn't it? About her father," Nysa prompted.

"She was so sure that he would have pulled back with the gift you presented. Obviously one would question what would be better than four marriages? I hardly think it was Lord Bolton's marriage to a Frey granddaughter."

"It makes no sense at all."

"One thing is for certain, we would have to ask Lord Bolton - when he is found. Unless, Walder Frey can be made to talk," Edmure suggested, "about what tempted him."

"I'll have to ask Robb about it. We still haven't discussed what is to be done with him. He is an old man. I want to say that he won't live long but he's lived this long as it is," Nysa replied.

Edmure nodded. There was no sense in denying that he too had wondered how long Walder Frey would live. The man certainly appeared that he would fall over at any moment. At the same time, he proved everyone wrong by continuing to outlive his sons, grandsons and great-grandsons.

"Roslin had inquired about her father. She doesn't want him to be executed but she understands that something will have to be done."

"I admire her courage," Nysa said.

"Yes, she has an abundance of courage. And patience," Edmure added. "I think that had a lot to do with the way you spoke about me, Ser Patrek and of course your brother and Lady Jeyne. It encouraged them that you had their interests at heart, her best interests."

"I am glad."

"She said that she's never heard such praise spoken about another Lord - one whom her father would often speak ill of," he whispered in a teasing, conspiring tone that made Nysa laugh.

"Lord Frey did mention that he had offered House Tully one of his daughters on numerous occasions."

"He did, he did," Edmure nodded, before deciding to speak of lighter matters. "I think we had a raven die, flying back and forth between the Twins and Riverrun. That's how often he sent an offer."

Nysa nudged him with her elbow as he chuckled. "You jest."

The rest of their walk to the kitchens was quiet - a calm and peaceful sort of quiet. And for that, she was glad that Edmure had changed the topic of conversation to something else so that she could focus on something good and calming. The babe was restless whenever she was restless. And at the moment the flutters in her stomach reminded her that the babe could sense its mother's unease.

Edmure helped her to sit as she called for one of the boys, someone he knew they called 'Hot Pie'. He had seen the young boy in Riverrun. He had become somewhat of a cook for the King and Queen. Edmure also remembered that the young man was a friend to Arya. They had both been in Harrenhal, traveled to Riverrun together. Rumor had it that there were few people whom Arya kept in her close circle - one of them was this young man.

"Two raspberry tarts," Hot Pie set a plate in front of Nysa. "One for you and one for the little Prince."

Nysa groaned in annoyance, causing everyone in the room to stop. "Forgive me," she smiled at them. "Continue on."

"Did you want something else, Nysa? I could make you a good pie," Hot Pie went to grab the plate, but Nysa quickly placed her hand on top of his.

"This is fine, Hot Pie. And I've been dying to get a raspberry tart in my mouth. Thank you." She smiled and Hot Pie nodded, leaving to go and prepare another dish. Nysa turned towards Edmure as he came to sit on the seat next to her. "Robb has everyone calling our child a 'Prince'," she rolled her eyes before taking a bite of the tart, moaning in delight as she chewed on it.

"And you think it will be a Princess," Edmure asked with a smile.

Nysa sighed and shook her head. "I think he might be correct. It could be a Prince. But I just don't want him to get his hopes up if it were not," she replied.

"Robb will be pleased either way. As long as you and the babe are healthy - that's all that matters," Edmure reassured her.

"Thank you," she reached her hand out to pat his arm before turning back to finish the tart. "And what of you and Roslin? Do you think we shall hear about an heir to Riverrun being born soon?"

Edmure chuckled and started to eat one of the fresh loaves that Hot Pie had brought over. "One always prays and hopes for such a blessing."

"Your House appears to have that trait in common, I think," Nysa smiled at Edmure. "Your sister was so quickly blessed with Robb. And Robb and I were so quickly blessed with our own," she touched her swollen belly. "If the Gods are good, they will bless you and Roslin also."

They both shared a smile. Nysa and Edmure went back to eating the food being brought before them. Edmure didn't think that he was hungry, but the young man could certainly cook. The bread had never tasted sweeter. The raspberry tart that the Queen favored was mouth-watering as well. He remembered eating the pork from the wedding. Hot Pie had prepared it differently than what they were all used to. However, he was finding that he liked it done the way that Hot Pie had made it.

"Are you taking him North with you," Edmure gestured to Hot Pie.

Nysa smiled and leaned closer to him. "I think we would need to ask Princess Arya about that," she whispered as they both laughed.

They continued eating their small meal there - enjoying light conversation, speaking about Roslin and of course Robb. And that is where Catelyn found the two of them. She was sent by her son. Robb had been looking for Nysa. They had settled on a plan for Casterly Rock and he wanted to discuss it with her. Edmure escorted both his sister and his good-niece out of the kitchens, thanking Hot Pie for the meal and proposing an offer as cook at Riverrun.

Catelyn replied with the same answer as Nysa. "You'd best ask Arya if she'd allow that."

Sansa and Tyrion were walking in the gardens. Shae was nowhere to be found - something that Tyrion found quite disturbing. He really did come to care for Shae. Suppose it was just in his nature to want someone that he couldn't have. At the same time, here he was walking with his wife and finding that despite not bedding her as a husband ought to have, he did enjoy her company. Sansa was still very young and naive, but she had a real innocence and compassion to her that was endearing.

"So, we are to stay here for a while longer," Sansa asked.

"Unfortunately," he replied, glancing towards her with a small smile. "May I ask where is your handmaiden?"

Sansa clicked her tongue. "She has been behaving rather ill lately," Sansa commented. "I do not understand it. Whenever I inform her that I am to take my lunch with you or we are to break our fast, she disappears." Sansa paused and turned to Tyrion. "I hope you haven't mistreated her in some way or form, my Lord."

Tyrion smiled kindly before clearing his throat. "You may call me Tyrion, Lady Sansa. You are after all my wife." She nodded. Despite that acknowledgement, Tyrion knew that it would take her some getting used to. "I," he paused and shook his head.

What was he going to tell his wife?

That he had bedded her handmaiden?

"This is the first time I've found you speechless, my Lord," Sansa hid a smile and a blush.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her statement. "Which is odd because I have a great many things to say - not just to you, but to others as well."

"I should hope that you and I will come to a point where neither of us keep any secrets from one another," she said softly.

The tone of her voice was pleading, begging for attention. And Tyrion was almost glad that it was he who she had wed and not Joffrey. She surely wouldn't receive kindness from him. And any attention she'd been the recipient of, wouldn't have been the best. Tyrion sighed and urged the two of them to stop their walk, gesturing for her to sit at a bench that had somewhat become 'theirs'.

She must have thought the same for she smiled and sat down.

"Perhaps your handmaiden is upset with me as to regards the wedding feast, I didn't treat you as I ought to have," Tyrion attempted to explain.

"On the contrary," Sansa shook her head. "You were merely expressing your frustration towards the King," she looked down. "I know it was no fault of mine. You said so yourself when we had retired to our chambers."

Tyrion gave her a brief nod.

"And I know you," his young wife paused and glanced down at her lap. "I know that our wedding night, it was your right to," another pause. "You could have claimed me as yours, but you didn't."

Tyrion took a step forward and took her hands in his - a calming gesture that they both seemed to enjoy. "I meant what I said," he reminded her. "I will not share your bed until you are willing. And if you should never," he nodded and looked away.

"You'll need an heir. We spoke about an heir."

"I know we did," he replied gently as he could. "But I will not force myself upon you, Sansa. You've had many choices taken away from you as is. Your father, your mother and your brother," Tyrion added quietly, "they are good people - were in your father's case. You don't deserve the things that have been done to you."

Sansa nodded and graced him with another beautiful smile.

"My Lord."

Tyrion and Sansa pulled their hands away from one another and glanced to see Podrick had rushed over to find him - leaving a few giggling ladies in his wake. Tyrion hid a smirk and gestured for Podrick to step forth.

"Forgive me for intruding, but your Lord father is requesting your presence," Podrick mentioned.

Tyrion sighed before turning to Sansa.

"Go," she urged.

"Pod, will you escort Lady Sansa," Tyrion nodded to his wife. "Wherever she wants to go, the godswood, the gardens, our chambers," he explained. "Make sure she gets there and keep watch over her until she is reunited with her handmaiden."

"Of course, my Lord," Podrick nodded. He held up his arm as Sansa glanced at Tyrion.

She surprised both her and Tyrion when she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek - the scared one. The most adoring blush tinted her cheeks as she pulled away. "Shall I see you for sup, my Lord?"

Tyrion nodded. A warm feeling spreading through him as he watched her stand and take Podrick's offered arm. His eyes followed her figure as she walked down the pathway. Just before she got out of sight, she turned around to look over her shoulder, bidding him farewell with another soft smile.

Nysa ran her fingers through Robb's dark auburn curls as he marveled at the life they had created inside of her womb. He would tap her stomach lightly and watch in amazement as their son would kick in response. Robb was still adamant about their babe being a son - but he told Nysa that he would be happy either way, as long as both she and the child were healthy - just as Edmure had reassured her.

Nysa had worried about whether Robb would be upset if she birthed a daughter instead of a son. She knew the importance of having a son. A son carried his father's name, a son would become King after Robb. Yes, a son was very important. But everyone - Jory, Lady Catelyn, Arya, Gendry, Edmure, Lyra and even Harrion - reassured her that Robb adored her so much that he wouldn't care about the child being a daughter.

To hear him say it now, eased her mind.

And the way he stared at her round shape made Nysa believe him.

The second he found her, he brought the two of them to their room and discussed the plans with her. She agreed with everything - except the part where she would be leaving the Twins. She was too heavy with child to journey back to Riverrun - something that Robb was slightly upset about. He wanted her out of the Twins, wanted her someplace safe.

Robb was about to leave her soon - his plan to besiege Casterly Rock still in place. He wasn't leaving any of the Frey men back with her. In fact, he was barely leaving any men back with her.

Smalljon had agreed to be one of those who did. He vowed to protect the Queen and the unborn child. Should anything happen, he was under explicit instructions to take Nysa back to the North. On Smalljon's mother and younger siblings lives - he had vowed, reminding the North and the Riverlands that Nysa was capable of not only destruction, but life as well.

"He is strong," Robb commented, adjusting his body to a sitting position.

"Still a Prince, is it," she questioned with a smile.

Robb smiled before leaning down to press his lips gently to the side of her swollen belly. "You know that I will be just as happy with a daughter."

"Oh," she lifted an eyebrow at him.

He smirked from his spot, shifting his eyes as they gleamed with mischief at Nysa. "It only means that we would have to try for a son, again and again."

"Mm," Nysa sighed softly before gesturing for him to come towards her.

The rounder she got - the more he began to stare longingly at her belly than at any other part of her. She could have been lying naked in their bed - just as she was now - hoping that he would come to her. Instead, he'd sit down at her side and rub her stomach, whispering little tales to the child growing inside. They had just leaned close enough to press their lips gently to one another when the door flung open.

"My King, a rider approaches," Olyvar burst into their chambers as Robb growled impatiently.

Nysa only giggled lightly before adjusting her gown to hide her nakedness. Olyvar - good man that he was - had the decency to look ashamed and turned to face the other way as Robb climbed off the bed and started to look for his clothes. Once Nysa had tied her gown, she went over to assist Robb in dressing.

"Where is the rider from," Robb questioned as Nysa fastened his tunic, running her hands down his chest to flatten out the garment. He smiled down at her. She always thought of how he should make a good appearance as King.

"We cannot discern, your Grace," Olyvar answered, without glancing back. "He is riding too fast."

"Did we send out a party to greet him?"

"He's already disarmed the first group of guards that went out there. And he has refused to speak to my brother or to Lord Jory."

Nysa gasped slightly. "Did he attack my brother?"

There was a pause before Olyvar responded. "Your brother still lives, my Queen. His injuries - along with the other guards - were not fatal. My brother, Perwyn, wishes to send out more men but they wanted to know your response, my King. He moves swiftly. We need you to make a decision."

The urgency in Olyvar's voice and the description of what was taking place outside the walls of the Twins, made Nysa fumble the fastening. Robb took a hold of her hands and held it tightly in his. There was a slight fear in her eyes as she glanced up at him but he gave her a reassuring kiss before pulling her in his arms.

"How far is he?"

"He should be here any moment, my King," Olyvar replied. "Lady Tyta and Lady Lyra are prepared to shoot him with arrows. They have archers standing their guard, waiting for your order."

"And he hasn't said where he comes from or what his purpose is?"

"No, your Grace. My brother sent me here to know what you want us to do."

Robb sighed before extracting himself from Nysa. "Smalljon," he shouted as the man appeared from outside the doorway - sword at the ready. "Prepare a horse for my wife, my mother and my sister." Nysa tried to stop Robb, pulling him back inside. "If anything should happen, you get them out of the Twins first and foremost. Then, you come back to the fight."

"No, Robb," Nysa shook her head. "What about you? What about your safety?"

"A King is not a King if he does not fight for his people."

"And what about fighting for his Queen," Nysa cried.

Robb rubbed her arms before dropping a kiss upon her brow. He gently moved past her and nodded towards Smalljon. And just like that he and Olyvar were down the hall, preparing to defend the castle against this intruder.

Tyrion set the note down. "I still don't understand what this means," he gestured towards it.

"It means that the Targaryen bitch I had been hearing about is in Westeros," Joffrey slammed his fist on the table before standing. "My father had the right of it. He wanted to send an assassin to murder her. And now look at what's happening," he pointed to the letter. "There's a dragon at the Twins!"

"It could just be a rumor," Cersei attempted to placate her son. "Men will speak nonsense when they have had too much wine or fought in too many battles."

"I want Sansa brought before me to explain this!"

Tyrion chuckled. "Sansa has been here in the Capital for moons. Truthfully, it's been a couple years," he looked at his nephew with a dumbfounded expression. "There's no way that she knows of something her brother had organized with a disgraced Princess that was stuck in Essos."

"What would you know of it," Joffrey marched towards him.

"He knows nothing," Cersei reached for Joffrey with a soft smile. "He's just a bitter, little man," she looked pointedly at Tyrion.

He smiled at his sister before looking towards his nephew. "Little, I may be," he began, "but bitter, I most certainly am not. I have a beautiful and kind wife."

"Your wife is a whore!"

"That is your Aunt by marriage," Lord Varys looked up at Joffrey. "Surely..."

"Joffrey didn't mean it. It was just a joke," Cersei smoothed her son's hand, remembering that Margery Tyrell had done that a few times and gotten her son to relax. It had the opposite effect however, when Joffrey ripped his hand away from his mother's.

"I did mean it. His wife is a whore," Joffrey pointed to Tyrion. "But then again that's exactly the type of women that he enjoys."

"That's quite enough," Tywin came to his son's defense, which made both Cersei and Tyrion puzzled. "We are speaking about the Lady of a great House. And now what Lord Varys says is correct. She is Lady Lannister. From her will come forth the heir to Casterly Rock."

"Father, you don't mean..."

Tywin looked at Cersei, silencing her. Tyrion sat there quietly, thinking about what his father had just stated. Whether it was to quiet Joffrey or not, Lord Tywin had basically announced that his son would become the heir to Casterly Rock.

"We will respect our newest kin," Tywin stated as though it were a law, and something told Tyrion that that was exactly what it was. Whenever Tywin Lannister spoke, it was law. "In the meantime, we will send more men to determine if it is true. That the Targaryen Princess has made her way from the East - though I doubt it."

"Just because you doubt it, doesn't mean that it's true." Tywin looked at his grandson. "I told you that this would happen," Joffrey shouted at his grandfather.

"Joff," Cersei reached for him with a soft smile.

"My father was the only one who thought of protecting the Iron Throne, protecting what is now mine," Joffrey pointed to himself. "And now, the North has that dragon bitch with them!"

Tyrion glanced at his father to see him studying Joffrey.

"You told me not to worry on the matter! That you, my Hand, had already discussed it and the situation had been properly resolved," Joffrey reached for the note, throwing it in his grandfather's lap. "Does that look like it's been properly resolved, grandfather? Does it?"

A tense moment of silence filled the room. For Joffrey to behave in such a manner towards Tyrion was predictable, perhaps even expected. This time it was his grandfather. Cersei attempted to grab Joffrey again - not wanting her son to be subject to another shameful display from her father. Tywin had already done so earlier. Now, she could see what her father had been talking about.

Tywin took the letter slowly and placed it back on the table. "The King is tired. See him to his chambers," he nodded towards Cersei who immediately stood.

"Come along," she cuddled Joffrey. "Let us not dwell on this news. We still have so much more to celebrate. Your impending wedding..."

"I will not be sent away again," Joffrey screamed. "I am the King!"

"Maester Pycelle, perhaps an essence of nightshade to help him sleep," Tywin continued, staring pointedly at his daughter, hoping that she would see the need to reign in her son, immediately.

"I'm not tired," Joffrey pointed towards his grandfather.

Cersei - remembering her recent conversations with her father - took Joffrey's arm in hers. "Come," she urged.

Tywin dismissed Joffrey easily, turning away from him.

In tune, Joffrey looked down shamefully before turning around. Grand Maester Pycelle followed closely behind them. When Lord Tywin gestured for Lord Varys to leave, Tyrion glanced at his father again and saw his father's eyes pinning him in his place. He was to stay. Once everyone had left, Tyrion smirked. Tywin knew a smart remark was going to come out of his youngest son.

"Say what is on your mind."

"You just sent the most powerful man in all of Westeros to bed without his supper," Tyrion couldn't help but smile.

"You're a fool if you think he is the most powerful man in Westeros - especially since I have done it before and will do it again, if he so much as utters another word of disrespect."

"A treasonous statement, Joffrey is King," Tyrion replied. "He has the right to disrespect whom he pleases."

His father smirked this time. "You really think being a King gives him power?"

"No," Tyrion answered. "I always thought armies gave you power. Robb Stark has one, never lost a battle," he tilted his head. "And to show that power, he still lives. Despite what you attempted to achieve there." His father turned his head and blinked his eyes - either feigning ignorance or studying his son. "Oh, I see how this played out. Lord Walder Frey takes all the credit for betraying Robb Stark, slaughtering him at a wedding feast - a wedding that saw his Uncle wed and his wife's brother wed. Isn't that what you informed me was taking place?"

Tywin didn't respond.

"You did. You did inform me of that. Now, Walder Frey is many things, but brave?" Tyrion shook his head. "No, he wouldn't risk it. Especially since you stated that his daughter became Lady to Riverrun, another became Lady to Seagard and wouldn't you know," Tyrion smiled, "a grandson in Harrenhal. Prizes such as those," Tyrion clicked his tongue. "And he'd still betray Robb Stark?"

"I gave him certain reassurances."

"More than what Robb Stark had delivered," Tyrion questioned. "Do you plan on giving Tommen to one of his daughters?"

Tywin sat there silently.

"No, no," Tyrion shook his head. "You wouldn't do such a thing. Tommen is more valuable than that, I'm sure. Did you promise him Casterly Rock? No," Tyrion shook his head again. Now he was simply mocking his father. "You love that castle more than your grandson, so..."

"He was not the only one I made a bargain with." Tywin smiled crookedly. "You are right. Walder Frey would not have concocted the idea by himself. In fact, it was not even his idea from the start."

Tyrion waited for his father to explain.

"Lord Roose Bolton was to become Warden of the North," Tywin said as Tyrion understood clearly. "He has a bastard son - who he requested would be legitimized. And I had hoped that with Robb Stark out of the way, that would make your son through Sansa, heir to the North. Remember," he nodded to his son, "you would have the North, Cersei the South, and we'd control all of Westeros."

"Unfortunately from where I'm sitting, there still lives an heir in the North," Tyrion pointed to the letter. "You underestimated the Stark boy again."

"Walder Frey does desire marriages. That is easily done. Robb Stark easily maneuvered that. But what Roose Bolton wanted," Tywin tilted his head in response before picking up the letter. "I could give that."

"However, they lost."

"They did," he commented.

"This must mean that Sansa and I aren't allowed to leave," Tyrion asked.

His father shook his head solemnly. "Ser Tytos Brax informed me that many of the Westerland Houses are surrendering to Robb Stark. And that Stark boy will march onto Casterly Rock if he does not get his sister back."

Tyrion nodded in understanding, knowing what his father was revealing. "You may lose Sansa, lose the North, if you release her to Casterly Rock." Tywin didn't need to answer his son's statement, Tyrion knew it to be true. "Do you plan on sending reinforcements?"

"He won't go to take it. Not after the wedding. They'll need to regroup. He may have survived but his ties with House Frey and House Bolton - along with a few others - have dwindled," Tywin reminded his son. "His victory is short lived, I assure you. But there is still much that was lost. Therefore, we'll keep Sansa here."

Tyrion sighed, knowing that Sansa wouldn't like this news piece of information.

"And what of the rumored Targaryen," he then inquired. "What are you going to do about that?"

Tywin went to stand from his seat and walked to where his son still sat. "I may know what is going on."

"Another letter from our King and Queen," asked Cedric Forrester.

"So soon," Osric Umber agreed. "We had just received word that the Queen is with child."

"We have to remember that my youngest brother and the other children said that raven was lost," Jon stated as a few of them turned towards Ronnel Woods and chuckled. "I'm going to assume that it took longer than usual to reach our hands, since the children were preoccupied."

Bran smiled at Ronnel and leaned over the table. "I hope you have forgiven my brother."

"I have, young Prince," Ronnel nodded. "Children will be children, especially the ones from the North."

A smile formed on Jon's lips seeing that Bran was now at ease - the topic of him leaving still hadn't been settled on. Jojen Reed walked in and sat down. He had seen Jojen and Bran discussing a few things in the godswood but nothing was certain - especially the idea of Bran leaving Winterfell.

He smiled while reading the letter before noticing that Nysa's handwriting changed towards the middle.

"Gods," he muttered causing everyone to look at him.

Jon sat down trying to discern what he was reading before glancing towards Bran. There was a confused look upon his face but his younger brother understood enough to know that what was written, wasn't good - it wasn't good at all.

Lord Roose Bolton had betrayed Robb. Whatever his reasons for doing so, it wasn't made clear. Jon sighed and shook his head, setting the letter down and looking up at Osric Umber and Ronnel Woods.

"House Bolton has betrayed our King," Jon said.

"What?"

"How?"

"Why?"

Everyone bombarded Jon with questions as he tried to take a deep breath. They were alive and well - alive at the very least according to what Robb had wrote to him. As for their well-being, that remained in the air. Robb had said that times were distressing and that he'd speak to Jon in person about other matters. But one thing was definitely certain - they had survived a betrayal.

"Lord Bolton and Lord Frey plotted to murder Robb and his Queen during the wedding feast of Jory Cassel, Ser Patrek Mallister, Lord Edmure Tully and Lady Jeyne Westerling," Jon repeated that one sentence from the letter as more shouts were exchanged within the room.

"A wedding feast," someone questioned.

"The Queen's brother and the King's Uncle, too," another person spat. "Shame on House Frey! Shame on House Bolton!"

"Do they mean for us to march on the Dreadfort," Osric jumped at the opportunity.

Bran shook his head and looked intently at Jon. "I think Nysa would want us to stay here, stay in Winterfell. Protecting the castle - our home - is more important than going out to attack the Boltons."

"And what if they come here," Ronnel questioned.

Meera Reed who had been standing in the background chose now to voice her opinion. "He'll never make it pass the Neck," Meera said as they all turned to look at her. She glanced at Jon and smiled. "Your brother - forgive me," she paused, "our King met with my father before he traveled South. The Lords had gathered at Moat Cailin and received instruction on their plan of attack. Nothing can get through the Neck - not from the South."

"The Ironborn are no longer there," Osric commented. "So the castle has been fortified with northern forces. But they may also think that Bolton comes in peace," he looked back at Meera.

"His son was supposed to come here," Cedric commented. "At least that's what we had heard," he turned to Jon.

"Ramsay?"

Cedric nodded.

"I remember you mentioning that," Jon looked at Osric.

"The King had sent men back to aid in recapturing Winterfell. It was through Ramsay that we were told of your brother's fates," he pointed towards Bran and Rickon.

"But there was no recapture," Bran replied. "Rickon and I hid in the crypts when we heard of Theon's plans to murder us. We stayed there - we heard the horns, but Osha said it wasn't safe to come out. So, we stayed hidden."

"Thank the Gods," Ronnel murmured as someone else mumbled in agreement. "Imagine if they had come out. Bolton's son would have Bran and Rickon, while Bolton himself betrayed our King and Queen."

That one statement made Jon think quickly as he and Meera exchanged a look. He turned towards Bran then, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You said that you heard the horns," Jon pressed.

"It's the same thing that the other children said as well," Osric reminded Jon.

"It was a trap," Jon shook his head, realizing what had happened. "That's how far Bolton's betrayal went," he looked towards Bran. "Ramsay came here - those are the horns that you heard. I remember being at the Dreadfort once," Jon paused and thought of the incident he had seen when he and Nysa were but children. "Ramsay said that he enjoyed hunting. He used horns to scare and intimidate the animals."

Jon sighed heavily. What would father have done?

Before he could think on the matter, he looked towards Bran. "What did you say about plots?"

"That they were surrounding Robb and Nysa," Bran answered.

"At first we thought it was only a threat from the Westerlands," Jojen added.

Jon cursed before glancing at Osric. "Lord Bolton probably convinced Robb to send Ramsay back here to help free Winterfell - only he didn't help Winterfell. Then they made everyone believe that Bran and Rickon are dead. Do you know what that would do to your mother," he looked at Bran, "what that would do to Robb?" He shook his head and looked towards Meera. "What would have happened had my brothers gone out when they heard those horns and thought it was a rescue?"

"The Northerners wouldn't have run from a familiar face," Osric replied. "They were happy when they saw us, imagine if they saw a small army from House Bolton?"

"Winterfell has burned because of Bolton's son." Jon bit his bottom lip - the urge to ride to the Dreadfort was strong in him. Ramsay was there. He was sure of it.

As if sensing the change of his mood, Meera stepped forward again. "What does the King and Queen instruct us to do?"

Jon gestured towards the letter. "Daryn Hornwood, Robett Glover and Ser Wylis Manderly are in pursuit of Bolton as we speak," he replied.

"Then, I think it best if we stay here, protect Winterfell."

"I don't know how things are done in the Neck, my Lady," Ronnel stated with a slight snarl. "But Lord Bolton has brought shame to the North by betraying our King. My brother is riding with the King. Osric's father and brother are with the King also. Who's to say that none of them were murdered during this betrayal?"

"I understand that," Meera stood strong and proud in the room full of men. "But the letter already says that the King has sent men after him. We should follow whatever instructions our King is giving us."

"Lady Reed is right," Jon agreed. "Prince Bran is right," he nodded to his brother. "The King and Queen have expressed their gratitude for our actions in ridding the North of the Ironborn and reclaiming Winterfell. They still need us to secure this place for the Queen."

"The Queen," questioned Ronnel.

"Robb doesn't want her in the Riverlands anymore - especially after this betrayal. There's only one place he wants her and that's here - at Winterfell, his home, her home," Jon stepped away from Bran and walked around where the rest of them stood. "Once the babe is born, they'll journey North - back home, back here," he looked down at the table. "He's entrusting us with her safety."

"So, we stay and wait for her," Osric asked.

"If you want to go back to your homes," Jon began but Osric put up his hand and shook his head.

"What I desired was to go to war as well, serve House Stark like my father and his father before him. This," he pointed to the letter, "is a request from House Stark, a request from my King. I will follow."

"As will I," Ronnel nodded his head in agreement.

"I will stay also," Cedric stated. "But what about Bolton?"

Jon nodded and turned towards Cedric. "Send out ravens - Karhold, Last Hearth, Hornwood, Bear Island, White Harbour, all of them. Inform them of House Bolton's betrayal. No one should welcome a Bolton into their castle."

"Do we have enough ravens," Bran asked.

"We'll make due with what we have," Jon answered. "Time to prepare the castle for our Queen."