Flashback

The port of Maidenpool came into view under the evening sky. As much as he hated to do it, he had to leave Westeros and flee across the Narrow Sea.

Petyr Baelish had lost the game of thrones at the Stokeworth Field. Daenerys Targaryen had landed in Oldtown, and held dominion over the Reach and the Stormlands and was preparing to marching on King's Landing when they struck. The Lannister rule had precious few supporters remaining, and Baelish was going to enter the city in triumph.

He had other reasons too, there was too much evidence of his tracks in King's Landing, and neither the dragon queen much less her advisors had any reason to love him.

He had planned to take King's Landing and bend the knee to Daenerys Targaryen after a show of loyalty, after which he convienently covered his tracks. If any of the Tyrells that were hostage in the capitol were compelled to sing about the murder that they pinned on the Imp, there would be hell to pay, and besides, the Dragon Queen had a strong sense of paranoia that he would not be able to pander to if his feats were known.

All had gone awry when his army of Rivermen and Valemen moved on King's Landing under the false pretext of aiding Cersei Lannister's dying of the Crownlands rose up in revolt against the Iron Throne and some lords even raided his supplies in hopes of delaying his army. He later realized that they had an objective of stalling him long enough, for Jorah Mormont's small army to arrive.

That implacable bear of a knight refused to parley and made his stand on a hill in sight of Castle Stokeworth.

Three times they had charged the hill, and three times they were repulsed. Finally, a company of crackshot archers found him on the battlefield and felled him. With their leader dead, they began to rout and Littlefinger would have finished them had an army of Westermen not struck him in the rear.

Tyrion Lannister was supposed to be somewhere around Riverrun, but as he had later learned in a Duskendale tavern, that he had used barges to cross the God's Eye and slip past Harrenhal.

His heart actually ached at the thought of Harrenhal. Last he had seen Sansa; she had given birth to the new lord of the Eyrie (who was secretly his).

He could never have Cat, but her daughter was even better. She was angry at him no doubt. He had hung the ominous threat of Harrold now an Arryn over her head, and she agreed to sleep with him. He had died anyway not a fortnight later, of an illness that had followed him around since his wedding night.

It was still worth it though, thousands had bled and died including most of her family, so that he could get her with child. She probably didn't want to see him again after learning that he could have made all the difference for Lord Stark. Still, it was worth it. He just wished he could see his son again, but it would be better if Westeros did not know he was the father.

For some reason Sansa liked that hot blooded oaf. Harrold Hardying as he had born, reminded Littlefinger far too much of Brandon Stark with only a light dash of Robert Baratheon which made him even more of a pleasure to snuff out.

As for King's Landing, Cersei Lannister had fallen shortly before the Targaryen supporters entered the capital. It had been said that Cersei had planned to burn down King's Landing on her little brother's army that assaulted the city without the support of dragons. When the Throne Room was taken, both Cersei and Jaime Lannister had been found dead in each other's arms, most likely of wounds they had inflicted on one another.

As he rode down the nearly deserted streets of Maidenpool, he took a glance at the fountain for which the town was named, and he felt himself smile inwardly at his own story.

He bought a room at a waterfront inn, and took a long rest but did not fall completely asleep, he could sleep all he wanted on the ship, and besides there was a bounty on him as if he were some common criminal.

When morning came, he sought out a ship on the waterfront, and found one bound for Pentos.

The cabin fare was reasonable and the captain asked fewer questions than the sailors in Duskendale.

Had it not been for Lord Mooton, he would have gotten away. The lord of Maidenpool who was presently speaking with another captain turned and had recognized him.

As soon his retainers seized Baelish, he knew the game was over. Petyr Baelish was a truly horrible man, of that he made no excuses, but his regrets were still few.

Daenerys

It was still cold in the Riverlands, but the storm had passed, and the sky was much brighter than it was hours before. Now the skies were clear, and it was a decent time for flying.

A good coat, made from the pelt of a great wolf kept her warm as she flew over the charred and frozen countryside. The wolf, to which it had belonged to, had cut down thirteen of her best hunters before the great beast had been felled for the magnificent coat it that now warmed her.

The snowfall had stopped after the storm and the ground was settled like the Seven Kingdoms after the war to reclaim her rightful throne.

Before her was the great ruined citadel of Harrenhal. Within, would be her hand, Tyrion Lannister.

Dany reigned in Rhaegal, telling him to descend on the remains of Balerion's dread. Of her three children, only Rhaegal remained.

Viserion had been killed in Mereen during the battle of Slaver's Bay, taking a scorpion bolt through the eye when Victarion Greyjoy took control of the dragon with his hellhorn. Afterwards the ironmen who made it ashore had been burned to a crisp by remaining children.

Drogon, had been poisoned by the Citadel, such was her folly for not listening to archmaester Marwyn. Of the true culprit, she had learned from Maester Samwell who had gone north after Tumbleton. She rode south, afterwards and burned the Citadel, for no one could cross the dragon unscathed.

She made a spectacular entrance, landing in the great plaza that stood in between the the five great towers of Harrenhal.

The garrison stood at attention, and several hundred prisoners were currently being brought out into the open, in fetters. From the look of things, they had not been told soon enough of her coming.

A gallows stood, newly erected in the hardened soil in anticipation of someone's arrival arrival she could tell.

Those present in the yard bowed, as she descended from Rhaegal.

She approached Tyrion Lannister, and bid him to rise.

"Harrenhal is yours, your grace." his replied in a gruff tone, eager to be somewhere else. Where or why, she could not say.

A young wiry man in black ringmail approached Tyrion, just as she turned away, "Lord Tyrion, the hangman is waiting."

The first man was brought forth in chains, he had clearly endured some beatings and unless she was mistaken, his mouth seemed to be sewn shut. It was said to be Lord Lannister's punishment for liars and cheat. Of those who had testified against him during his trail for murdering a false king and his nephew, many had suffered similar fates.

The Imp, as many in the Seven Kingdoms took to calling him, spoke to the man with mocking courtesy. "Lord Baelish, I told you that I always pay my debts."

She strongly disliked Tyrion, but he had handled affairs in King's Landing with great success and brought order to the countryside north of the capitol while she went to war in the Reach. To him, there were weapons other than sword, arrow and beast. He fought wars not with valor, but cruel unpredictable cunning.

She did not personally trust him, but he had no interest in keeping the job longer than he had too. If there was one thing she understood about him, it was his desire to get away from King's Landing.

"You started the wars, and brought choas to the Seven Kingdoms, and now I'm going to put you on the end of a rope as I should have done, when I was Joffrey's Hand."

Dany felt herself frown at the mention of his nephew. That Tyrion was innocent of the murder of the Usurper's alleged son, was public knowledge for nearly a moon's turn. Under questioning, Margaery Tyrell, their false queen, confessed to having poisoned her new husband. She had been taken alive when King's Landing fell. Her grandmother, the Lady Olenna, whose cunning eerily reminded Dany of the Green Grace in Mereen, had also been taken.

For all of her smarts and cunning, she confessed the truth of the matter at Baelor's Sept at the point of a sword. Her grandchildren were spared from his malice, but she was compelled to join the Silent Sisters while Mace Tyrell chose to take the Black.

The realm was in much better shape with the two removed from its rule.

"Do you have anything to say, before I give you to the hangman?"

Baelish said nothing.

"Well, that's dissappointing, I might actually miss your japes, Littlefinger." She let him have his joke, his was a morbid sense of humor. "It's a shame that the Spider is now dead. Had he still been alive, I might have sent him your root and stem." He gave a mock titter. "I suppose that we can bury it somewhere, maybe the Crypts of Winterfell. I'm told that Ned Stark has a statue of his own down there, do you suppose your manhood will be a good peace offering for his vengeful spirit. We're living the curse of those damned wolves right now."

Dany did not fail to notice the unease in Tyrion's voice. She had no idea what was going on in the North, but only recently, she had whispers of demons made of ice ruling the north. Stannis Baratheon, the usurper's brother, was said to have been slain defending Winterfell, the ancestral seat of the Starks against the mysterious creatures.

He and three others were escorted atop the scaffold where nooses were placed around their necks and those whose mouths were unsewn offered their last words.

One, a morbidly obese man, who wore a lordly doublet that sported six silver bells on a purple field, wept like a coward and made a futile plea for mercy. Before he could finish, he was dropped from the platform, and the rope tightened as the condemned made a frantic dance in midair while his body swayed at the end of a rope in a gruesome spectacle.

The second man gave his speech; he was a handsome man, but lean and dangerous as a viper. "I am Lyn Corbray, and I am as guilty as a man can be." He gave a defiant smirk. "My sins and crimes are beyond count. I have murdered men, women and children for joy and taken my pleasure off half the boys in the Vale, but my greatest crime was to fight on the losing side of a war."

The hangman dropped him from the gallows, and Ser Lyn fell to his death, amid the vulgar cheers of the crowd.

The third man gave his speech, which was directed towards her. He had a large beak nose and sported a well trimmed black and pointed beard. Unlike the rest, he did not appear to have suffered any beatings.

"Let no one say that Symond Templeton, the Knight of Ninestars, died a coward. My ancestors are smiling on me now, can Lord Tyrion say the same of his own, can his silver haired whore of a queen say that. No Templeton of Ninestars will ever bend the knee to an abomination born of incest, or the followers of demon faiths she brought to usurp Westeros. you may take our lives, you may take our own liege lord and give him the Imp for a father figure, You can even burn our homes, but freedom will come to the Vale of Arryn."

She could feel her inner dragon waking. How dare this knight call her a usurper. The new lord of the Eyrie would stay as far as possible from these rebels. She had heard that the boy in question had yet to see his first nameday.

The faith militant had declared the boy a bastard due to the validity or lack thereof of a union between the falcons and wolves. She would need to speak with Tyrion soon, and the boy's mother as well.

A few nervous cheers arose from the crowd, but abruptly stopped when the Knight of Ninestars fell to his death and danced under the gibbet like a dying puppet.

Last came Lord Baelish, who had no words to offer, but made a tearful glance toward a well dressed young auburn haired woman in front of the throngs who could have been no more than two years younger than Dany.

She did not seem to show any sadness when the man swung at the end of the rope.

When it was over, and their legs stopped twitching, the crowds began to disperse and the prisoners where taken into one of the towers where they must have previously been held.

"What was that knight saying about the Vale?" She asked the dwarf.

"Well, it seems my loving wife had the Lord of the Eyrie in my absense, when she thought I was dead. Now I have her son, and i'm going to foster him myself, bastard or not."

"Is he really a bastard?" Dany asked and got a shrug in response. "He is one way or another. Starks, Tullys, Hardyings, Arryns, none of those houses have members with those eyes. Lady Stark knows who the real father is, especially since Harrold Hardying died mysteriously after inheriting the name of Arryn. She won't say anything though, because she grew up in King's Landing."

They entered the cavernous Hall of a Hundred Hearths as Harren the Black had called it. There were fires though, in perhaps a dozen of the hearths, but she welcomed the heat. "Mayhaps you should she the babe yourself."

A wetnurse brought the babe in question for her too see. The baby was a beautiful thing, and Dany could not help but think about Rhaego, the son she should have had. His hair was a curly Auburn, and the eyes that Tyrion fussed about, were a grayish green. While Dany realized the nessecity of fostering the boy away from the Vale, she felt a nagging voice in her head telling her how cruel it was. The voice was none other than Ser Barristan's voice who was lived on only as a ghost of her past in Mereen.

The baby's name she had learned was Jon.

The Auburn haired woman that she had seen earlier approached with eyes meant for the babe. She gave a smile meant only for the child.

"Are you his mother?" Dany asked even though she knew the answer.

The mother turned and for only a moment saw a look of fear. Then her face was one of cold disdain as she eyed Dany's cloak. The lady looked as if Dany had skinned her pet alive, and maybe she had. It was said that the children of Ned Stark, the man who had banished her bear knight to Essos, had wolves that could grow to be the size of a horse, and the animal that had died for her cloak was at least the size of a pony.

She nodded as if a single spoken word would drive her to tears.

"I am the queen; I can legitimize him for you."

The woman began to cry. "You don't want to help me. You want to take my son, my only son from me. He's only a piece to you, but for me he's so much more."

Dany could not help but feel bad for her, but Tyrion who seemed to read her mind cut off her feelings of pity.

"Cry if you must, Lady Stark. There are some here, even among my own bannerman who see you as a hero for trying to hold Harrenhal against me, while Baelish tried to slip away to Maidenpool and escape justice. I'm not separating you from the boy; you're going to Casterly Rock too, and not as my wife, but as a hostage."

Now she was in a complete state of terror.

"It's funny how the course of life goes," He continued. "I still remember that day when I talked of leaving King's Landing after Joffrey's wedding and taking you for a visit to the Rock. I could never have guessed that things would end the way they did." He smirked at her discomfort, which she was trying her best to hide, "of course, if you hate the rock that much, King's Landing or whatever remains of that shitpile on the Blackwater is still the customary place for hostages.

Dany spoke up, "Lady Sansa, are you still wed to this … man?" Tyrion's grotesque face twisted into a display of annoyance at her deliberate pause.

Sansa Stark only nodded.

"The new High Septon is currently in Duskendale, and if you wish to have your marriage annuled he will grant it. You are free to leave, if you wish."

"As for your son I hereby legitimize him as Jon Arryn by queen's decree. Your son will still be fostered at Casterly Rock, because of usurpers such as those," Dany made a broad gesture towards the gallows where four corpses were being taken down.

Her hand showed displeasure that told her that something important was going to slip through her fingers, but she didn't care, not this time.

A courtier came up by her right, and gave a quick, but graceful bow. "Your grace, Lord Edmure wishes to speak with you."

Dany welcomed the distraction, and followed the courtier to yet another person with auburn hair. He could not have seen more than five and thirty namedays, she decided.

"Your grace," he bowed. "As the rightful lord of Riverrun, I Edmure Tully, pledge fealty you Queen Daenerys, the rightful queen of seven kingdoms."

"Rise," Dany commanded. "Your house neglected its duty to my father, under no threat of harm. But, you have served me well, in bringing peace to the realm, and there is no one more deserving of the Wardenship of the Trident than you. You shall have all that was once Edmyn Tully's."

Dany was conscious of the Riverland nobles who observed. That they approved, was obvious. Naturally though were not happy to to be reminded of her father, and the duty that many had neglected. She had learned to accept that many of the Targaryens were prone to madness, but that did not change her view of the Usurper, Robert Bartheon. It did change her views of some of his dogs however.

"My queen, what do you plan to do about the northerners?" His voice was worried. Edmure Tully was known to have a concern for displaced, and for that he was well loved in these parts.

"What do you mean," There was something she had not yet heard.

She did not need to ask, for a knight who bore a burning tree on his shield, and covered in hoarfrost from a long ride was now facing her. He removed the hood the cloak over his armor revealing his copper colored hair, before took a stiff knee and spoke.

"Your grace, my scouts report that ten thousand Northmen are marching south."