Author's Note: Update 1 of 2 for today. So we will start with Dorne before seeing what Robb and everyone else is up to.

Oberyn's POV took me a long time to type up and sort out and I am (I confess) still not happy with it. It's not my best work but I really cannot think of how else to do it. Other than that I hope you enjoy the rest of this chapter.

Chapter 15

A Crushed Rose

Oberyn

Ellaria screamed out her joy as she came crashing down from the heights of her pleasure. She sat astride his lap, her body quivering before she all but fell onto Oberyn's chest. She giggled before pressing her lips to his, her kiss full of passion and desire. Oberyn chuckled before he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Their kiss intensified just as a knock on the door interrupted them. Tearing himself away from Ellaria with a grunt of annoyance, Oberyn sat up from the bed and gathered some clothes.

"Prince Oberyn, they are waiting for you," a voice called through the door. Oberyn suppressed a sigh as he poured himself a small measure of wine. He emptied the wine quickly before putting the cup down onto the table where he took it from.

"Very well," he called back, irate at being interrupted. "I shall make my way there soon." Oberyn pulled on some small clothes before turning to the rack where his armour was on display. Ellaria was up and dressed, a simple gown to protect her modesty, and walked over to where Oberyn's armour was.

"You need to get ready quickly Oberyn," she said as she stroked her fingers over the leather of his armour. "You need to be at your best." Oberyn smirked at her words as he wandered over to the armour rack.

"We have time I believe," he said as he wrapped his arms around her and let his hand wander down to her wet entrance. He felt her hand grab his wrist and pull him away.

"Later," she said, "or I'll never allow you to pull your cock out me, and then Doran will not be impressed." She wriggled out of his embrace and walked over to the other side of the room. Oberyn huffed as he took the armour and began to put it on, one piece at a time. It took him half an hour to put the armour on with some help from Ellaria, but when he was done his whole body was covered in hardened leather from his upper body to his feet.

Oberyn walked out of his rooms with Ellaria bedside him with her arm hooked through his. They walked along the hallway towards the training grounds where the fight was to take place. As they approached the door that led outside Oberyn saw his third daughter Tyene approach him with a wicked smile on her lovely face. Her eyes were the only thing that betrayed her mischievousness, and they were wide and alight with glee.

"I hope you are ready father," she said as she stood before him. "Ser Amory seems to be anything but ready. Apparently he had been vomiting a fair bit this morning after having broke his fast, and his bowels were quite loose too." Oberyn suppressed the urge to sigh; he knew that Tyene would slip some poison into Lorch's meal despite him explicitly telling her not to do anything that would lead to Lorch dying. He wanted to kill the cretin himself, but he knew that Tyene would do something that would help him, or at least in her opinion it would help him. Before he could respond a guardsman approached him with a spear in hand.

"My prince, when you are ready," he said. Oberyn nodded his head at the man before looking back at his daughter, who was just standing there smiling innocently. No point in chastising her, he conceded as he walked on to the doorway. The door opened and he stepped outside to the training grounds, where he saw dozens of people, lowborn and highborn alike, gathering in anticipation of the fight. Oberyn walked over to where Doran was sat under a shaded area with Arianne and Quentyn sat on either side of him. Trystane was seated next to Arianne while Areo was standing behind Doran. Oberyn stopped before his elder brother and bowed to him.

"I am ready brother," he said. Doran looked up at him and gave a brief nod of his head.

"We are just waiting for Ser Amory to arrive," he said. "Tyene no doubt slipped in a small amount of poison into his meal. Not a fatal dose, but it was enough to make the man sick. Despite her actions Tyene could well have made Lorch a more dangerous foe to fight. Whatever you do do not let your anger rule you."

"I won't Doran," Oberyn said in reply before looking over his shoulder. "Have you given anymore thought about our terms to the Starks?" he asked as he watched the doors that Lorch would come through when he was ready. After a moment he turned to face Doran to see him sat with a hand stroking his chin.

"Daenerys Targaryen has vanished," he began. "Her Dothraki husband was slain by a sellsword of the Company of the Rose. That group attacked the Dothraki as they were busy getting ready for another attack on some poor village. From what I hear the entire company had been involved; how twelve-thousand men could defeat a Dothraki host that outnumbered them many times over I don't know." Oberyn smirked as he folded his arms and leant his side against the wall. "As such I see no reason to continue with our old plan. There will never be a Targaryen restoration, so our plans have to change. And Stark is not our enemy." Doran looked up at Oberyn and gave him a serious look. "Once this war is over I will travel to meet with Eddard Stark and discuss our terms. Unless he is willing to accept Arianne as a suitable bride for his son we will have to see about betrothing Quentyn to one of his daughters." Oberyn moved closer to Doran and knelt down next to him.

"The eldest girl, Princess Sansa, is about twelve years old, while Princess Arya, the younger girl, is only ten," he told Doran. "If he will allow a match it would likely be one involving Sansa."

"I could go with you father," Arianne said as she leant closer to them. "Let me meet with this Young Wolf and see if I can charm him." Oberyn nearly snorted then as Doran gave his eldest a withering glance.

"Even if you could charm the young man, his father will not take too kindly to you trying to seduce his heir," he said. "Furthermore, with the change in circumstances you shall more than likely remain as my heir. Unless you really wish to become the lady of a lesser House?" Arianne lounged back in her seat with a pout, looking off to the side as she made herself comfortable. Quentyn shuffled in his seat as he looked at his father.

"So where does this leave me exactly father?" he asked. Doran looked at his son and shook his head slightly.

"We shall see what happens in the future Quentyn," he said. "It will do us good to have another branch of House Martell. With his sons King Eddard will no doubt look to establish more new branches of his own House. So we shall see what happens." Just then the crowd let out a roar that drowned Oberyn's ears. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Lorch being led in, swaying slightly. Oberyn looked back to Doran who nodded his head. "We will discuss the terms that we will deliver to Stark later. For now though, go and send him to the Stranger Oberyn," he told him, pointing his finger at Lorch. Oberyn gave his brother a bow before turning and walking back to where Ellaria was stood with Tyene next to her. Oberyn saw his Elia standing amongst the crowd, but thankfully he saw no sign of his three youngest daughters. This is something that they don't need to see, he thought.

As he approached his lover and his third daughter he looked over to Lorch, who was dressed in heavy plate armour, a half helm on his head, and was being given a sword to fight with. He looked pale and sweaty, and his eyes were unfocused. Oberyn shook his head before looking at Tyene who just gave him her usual smile.

"Manticore venom father?" she asked as she held out a cloth and bottle, her hands gloved so as not to get anything on her skin. Oberyn gave a sigh as he nodded his head. Tyene began to apply the poison to the blade of Oberyn's spear, slowly pouring the liquid onto the cloth before gently rubbing said cloth over the blade as if she were polishing it. Oberyn looked at Ellaria and took her in his arms, giving her a passionate kiss which earned him a few cheers. He broke the kiss reluctantly before reaching for his wine cup and taking a drink from it. The Dornish red was sweet, and left a slight sour after-taste in his mouth.

"Remember your promise to me Oberyn," Ellaria said as she stroked her fingers down his cheek. "Do not get careless. I want you back inside me tonight." She leaned up to him and kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear. "I want you to fuck me for the rest of the night, seeing as I won't be seeing you for months." Oberyn gave Ellaria a sly smile as he leant back.

"Maybe you shall find yourself carrying another girl for me," he said in a teasing voice. Ellaria smiled widely as she brushed a finger down his chin.

"Or maybe the gods shall give you a son this time," she said. Oberyn smirked at her as he stepped back to face Lorch.

"We shall see my love," he said. "I find it more than likely that the gods will give me a ninth daughter." A trumpet blared in the background, and the crowd fell silent.

A septon stepped forward and began to speak to the crowd then, droning on about the gods showing mercy and justice. As he spoke he called upon the Seven to watch over both combatants, to give strength to the sword of the one whose cause was just, and to punish the guilty accordingly. The septon looked to Lorch and asked him if he would admit his guilt and accept Doran's judgement.

"Just get on with it," he wheezed. After that the septon looked at Doran and asked if he would withdraw his accusations and allow him to go free. Oberyn tried not to laugh at the septon's words as he was required to speak them. He could not stop the snigger that left his mouth, but he managed to keep quiet as Doran shook his head. The septon finished saying his long speech and gave a quick prayer, while Oberyn took his spear from Tyene and gave Ellaria a swift kiss.

"Come back to me," she begged.

"Always," he told her sincerely before stepping forward to meet Lorch. The Westerman staggered towards him, shaking his head in a bid to steady himself. Oberyn started to twirl his spear around him, spinning and waving it around his body. He did this for several seconds, and when he stopped two things happened; the crowed cheered and applauded his skill, and Amory Lorch bent over double and emptied his stomach, vomiting over the ground. Some amongst the crowd laughed at this display, while others looked very disgusted. Oberyn smirked as he watched his foe stand upright. Lorch walked over to him, swaying as if he were drunk.

"Come on," he slurred, sounding like he was indeed drunk. "Come on and... and fight me... me." Oberyn twirled his spear again as he stepped closer to Lorch.

"You have confessed your crimes," Oberyn said as he stopped his twirl. "You have admitted that you were following Lord Lannister's orders. Confess again and I shall make this quick." He knew Lorch would not confess a second time, and he was hoping that it would be enough to provoke him into taking a swing at him.

"Argh, fuck you you Dornish cunt," Lorch spat before launching himself at Oberyn. He raised his sword above his head and staggered forward, taking a swing at Oberyn who danced out of the way at the last second. Lorch snarled at him before slashing his sword wildly at Oberyn, who spun around and thrust his spear at the man, the steel tip sliding across the knight's breastplate.

"Confess," he taunted him. Lorch swung at Oberyn several times, each blow easily parried away by his spear. "Say it. You dragged my niece out from under her father's bed." Lorch thrust his sword at Oberyn's face, missing him when he ducked down and rolled forward. As he stood up Oberyn swung the haft of his spear into the back of Lorch's leg. "You pulled her into the middle of the room." Lorch roared as he tried to stand and hack at Oberyn, but the knight ended up falling forward and hitting the ground. "You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch slowly stood up to his feet.

"Shut up and fight me!" he bellowed as he turned around to face Oberyn. Lorch managed four, five, six swings of his sword, each either missing Oberyn or being parried away by his spear. Oberyn pushed Lorch back with a series of thrusts and swipes, forcing Lorch to step back and slip on the puddle of his own vomit. Lorch nearly fell down, but he kept himself on his feet and made an overhead swing at Oberyn, who simply stepped aside and slammed the blunt end of his spear into Lorch's face. The knight cried out and once again swung wildly, the edge of his sword just parting the air where Oberyn had stood but a moment ago.

"You dragged her from her father's bed," Oberyn said again as he thrust and swung his spear, each of his strikes being clumsily parried by Lorch. "You pulled her into the middle of the room." He slashed the spear tip at Lorch's eye, nearly slicing into it but only scraping his helm. "You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch roared out as he swung savagely at Oberyn, the flat of his blade hitting Oberyn on the arm. Oberyn spun and danced out of the way of the second strike. That'll leave a bruise, he thought bitterly, glancing at an anxious looking Ellaria. I need to be more careful, he chastised himself before going back on the offensive. Lorch charged at him with his sword down by his side ready to lunge, so Oberyn stepped to the right and slammed his spear haft into Lorch's left knee before stabbing the spear tip into his left arm. Lorch howled in agony as the tip tore into the joint of his elbow where his armour afforded little protection.

"BASTARD!" he screamed as he slashed his blade at Oberyn in a bid to remove his head. Oberyn pulled his spear free and ducked under the blow before standing up and pushing Lorch away from him.

"You dragged her from her father's bed. You pulled her into the middle of the room. You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch shouted an inarticulate battle cry as he threw himself at Oberyn, his shoulder slamming into Oberyn's chest and nearly sending him falling onto his back. As he fell he spun his body around and rolled forward, moving away from Lorch. He stood back up to his feet and turned to face Lorch, seeing his spear several feet behind his foe. Lorch took advantage of Oberyn being disarmed and began to swing like a madman at him. Oberyn stood still for a few moment before seizing his chance and running towards Lorch. The knight thrust his weapon at him but at the last second Oberyn slid down under Lorch's attack and went past him, stopping by his spear. He grabbed the haft of his weapon and brought it up in time to stop Lorch's blade from splitting his head in two. The strike put a nick into the haft, but no more. Lorch's strength wanes, he realised, knowing that the manticore venom was doing its job. Oberyn pushed his spear to the side and aimed the steel edge of the spear at the knight's calf muscle. The steel cut into the leather and drew blood, forcing another howl of agony from Lorch. Time to end this, Oberyn thought as he stood up and walked away from Lorch.

"You fucker!" the knight hissed in pain.

"YOU DRAGGED HER FROM HER FATHER'S BED!" Oberyn roared, his voice loud and full of unrestrained anger. "YOU PULLED HER INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM!" he repeated as Lorch yelled as he tried to charge at him but Oberyn stepped around him and slashed his spear tip along the back of the leg, hamstringing the knight and sending him to his knees. Oberyn walked around him and moved to stand five yards from him. He raised his spear and began to run. "YOU STABBED HER HALF A HUNDRED TIMES!" he bellowed out in rage as he slammed his spear down into Lorch's throat, the steel slicing through his windpipe.

Oberyn stood and watched as Amory Lorch gasped for air, his blood erupting from his mouth and the opened throat. The knight remained on his knees as Oberyn held his spear, keeping him upright. He gargled and gasped, and Oberyn saw tears filling the wretch's eyes. A few moments later Oberyn got a whiff of an awful smell, and looking down he saw a small puddle forming from Lorch's knee. He's pissed himself, he thought with disgust. I wonder if he's shit himself too? After a few more moments of struggling Lorch finally stilled, his arms falling limp by his side and his head lilting to the side. With a hard tug Oberyn freed his spear from the dead man, and then the corpse of Amory Lorch dropped forward with a dull thud. The crowd cheered in approval as Oberyn walked over to where his brother was sat and knelt before him. The Prince of Dorne held out his hand and soon the crowd fell silent.

"The gods have made their judgement known," Doran called out. "Now my sister and her children have been avenged. Justice is done." More cheers went up from the crowd then. Oberyn looked up at Doran and saw him give the faintest of smiles. "Rest now, my brothers and sister of Dorne, for tomorrow we march, and bring our fury upon the Lannisters." The crowd continued to cheer then as Oberyn stood up and walked over to his paramour and daughter. He would speak with Doran later on, but right now he only wanted to speak with Ellaria and Tyene. As he approached them he saw Elia was standing beside them, with Ellaria looking at her with a scrunched up face. I wonder who was out riding this morning? Oberyn thought with amusement. He handed his spear to a squire who took the weapon and dipped the tip into a bucket filled with water to cleanse the blade.

"Are you alright?" Ellaria asked him as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Oberyn let out a deep breath before he answered.

"I'll be fine now," he said as he wrapped his arms around his lover, kissing her forehead. He looked at his girls and saw the look of mischief in Tyene's eyes. "Tell me child, what poison did you put into Lorch's meal that made him vomit at the sight of me twirling my spear?" he asked her. Tyene gave a soft giggle as she looked away, as if she were shy. She looked back at him and gave Oberyn a warm smile.

"Amory Lorch wanted quite a big meal to break his fast, so I made sure that he had as much food as he could want," she said. "I may have accidentally poured in a few drops of strong alcohol into the food, as well as having his cup refilled with fortified wine, which he started drinking first as the food was not ready yet." Oberyn looked wide eyed at his daughter, surprised at how he did not see it. That's why he seemed drunk, he thought. He was swaying like a drunk because he was drunk. Oberyn chuckled as he pulled away from Ellaria's embrace.

"Right then, let's go and get cleaned up. No doubt there will plenty of food for tonight." Oberyn walked along with his arm over Ellaria's shoulder and Tyene beside him, heading back inside. He looked over his shoulder at Elia who was looking at him as they walked, her face serious. Oberyn flashed her a smile and waved her over to stand between him and Tyene. His Elia returned the smile and skipped over to him, walking alongside him. Ellaria sniffed loudly and looked at her first daughter, before pulling a face of disgust.

"Seven hells Elia, could you please have a bath before sitting at dinner tonight?" she demanded. Oberyn laughed at his lover's annoyance and grinned at Elia.

"Don't worry my love," he said. "We'll just sit by the windows." Elia laughed at Oberyn's dismissive response, earning him a slap on the arm that Lorch managed to land his sword on. He winced slightly but responded by slapping Ellaria's rear.

"Oh gods, could you two wait until after you are alone?" Elia demanded with a groan, making Oberyn laugh even more.

Robb

The wind blew through his hair as he sat atop his war horse. Robb looked toward the castle in the distance and waited for the occupants to emerge, hopefully to surrender to him. For the last four weeks now Robb has marched his half of the host south to capture castles of the Westerlands, with Lord Jason Mallister leading the other half of the host north and taking the castles of Ashemark, the Crag and Banefort with minimal losses. Robb so far has taken Hornvale, the seat of House Brax, and Deep Den, the seat of House Lydden.

Taking Hornvale was easy enough for Robb as he had both the eldest and youngest sons of Lord Andros Brax as prisoners; Tytos, who was now the new Lord Brax after his father died at Riverrun, and Ser Flement, whose two younger sons were living in Hornvale. Their uncle Ser Rupert was one of the many Westermen killed at Oxcross while their brother Ser Robert had died from injuries he took at the Humbling, so only Tytos had authority over the garrison. After having spoken with the new Lord of Hornvale Robb was glad when he agreed to have the garrison surrender, and twenty minutes after letting Lord Tytos enter his home the gates of the castle opened and the garrison walked out throwing down their arms. After the yielding of Hornvale Robb allowed Tytos's brother Flement to remain at Hornvale along with his youngest son, but Robb demanded that the second son Walder be sent to the Golden Tooth where he would be taken with Lady Lefford to Riverrun to ensure the good behaviour of House Brax. Lord Tytos had reluctantly agreed, despite his brother's protests. Robb did feel disgusted with himself for laying down the demand, but his father had told him to take hostages from the Houses of the Westerlands to ensure their compliance.

Taking Deep Den was not as simple as taking Hornvale was. Lord Lewys Lydden was one of the many lords taken captive by Robb's host at the Humbling, but he had been an uncooperative prisoner. When Robb had the man brought before the walls of Deep Den he told him what was likely to happen if he did not convince his kin to surrender. Lord Lewys just glared at Robb and told him that he would never take the castle. After failing to convince the man Robb tried to negotiate with Lord Lewys's young son Martyn Lydden, but the boy who was only a year younger than Robb had told him that his efforts would be wasted. Robb reluctantly began the plan to assault and seize Deep Den, and after three days of planning he launched his assault. The attack had cost him three-hundred or so men, but the garrison of Deep Den was overwhelmed and put to the sword. Martyn Lydden had been wounded during the fighting but was taken prisoner and held in the dungeons of Deep Den. Lord Lewys was escorted back to the Golden Tooth to be taken to Riverrun while his family became prisoners in their own home.

Now Robb was sitting outside the castle of Silverhill, the seat of House Serrett. Robb and his army arrived at midday yesterday, and had begun to set up the siege lines. Robb sent Olyvar ahead with the peace banner to send word for his wish to speak terms, but a young knight had told Olyvar to leave. Robb had his host completely surround Silverhill and posted roving patrols to keep an eye out for trouble, which he was glad he did; Ser Jasper Redfort who had rode with Robb's host with his knights and men-at-arms had reported to Robb this morning that one of his patrols had ambushed and eliminated a party of Westermen who were scouts for a larger host of three-thousand men. In response Robb sent Ser Jasper with five-thousand men to destroy the approaching host. Ser Jasper returned a few hours later with news of the enemy host's destruction and the death of their leader, who it turned out was a blasted Crakehall. Just how many Crakehalls are there? he thought, grateful that he had sent Harrion and Torrhen north with Lord Mallister's host; Harrion in particular would use the presence of a Crakehall as an excuse to ride off to their castle and butcher the Crakehalls.

After the battle that took place at Oxcross Harrion had become a bitter and cold man, his eyes full of anger. After the meeting before they marched for the Golden Tooth Robb had decided to keep an eye on his friend, worried that he would do something stupid. As it turned out Harrion become a touch reclusive, only speaking to his brother Torrhen in private and only speaking when spoken to during important meetings. Robb spoke with Harrion the day before the host split in two, and was glad he decided to send Harrion and his forces north with Lord Mallister's host; Harrion had made it clear that he would kill anyone whose name was Crakehall, no matter whether they were fighting or not. Such an admission had concerned Robb, but he was not as concerned as Torrhen was. The younger Karstark, who was being called the Boar-Hewer by the men, told him that he was worried that Harrion's anger would get him killed as he had become reckless since their father's death. Robb was not worried about Torrhen because he knew that the younger Karstark would only kill men during battle, but Harrion was a different matter.

Ser Jasper had taken two score prisoners from the host that he had ambushed, including a man with the Serrett peacock on his shield. The man identified himself as Ser Daven Serrett, the younger brother of Ser Jason Serrett who was in charge of the garrison of Silverhill. Their father, Lord Malcom Serrett, had been one of the lords who was taken captive during the war but had unfortunately died from an arrow wound that festered. Before he died Robb was able to speak to Lord Malcom and had promised to deliver a letter to Silverhill in the event of his death; Robb told Ser Daven of this and showed him the letter. The young knight read the letter and agreed to speak to his brother.

Not long after Ser Daven had gone inside a group of men rode out from the gates of Silverhill, one of them holding a peace banner in his hand. Robb rode out to meet them halfway with Dacey, Ser Jasper, Lucas, Smalljon and Olyvar accompanying him along with ten guardsmen. The Serrett party was ten strong, and included a man who looked very similar to Ser Daven in appearance but with an older face; his light brown hair was a few inches longer than Robb's, his grey-green eyes were sharp and alert and his groomed moustache was bushy enough to make a Northman proud.

"Prince Robb," the man spoke when he came to a halt four yards from him.

"Lord Serrett," Robb replied as he looked Lord Jason up and down. "I would discuss terms with you and resolve this without bloodshed." The young lord looked at him sternly, but after a moment he nodded his head.

"Before we begin answer me this. Did my lord father write this letter with his own hand and by his own will?" Lord Jason demanded as he held the letter up in his hand. Robb regarded the letter before nodding his head in answer.

"Aye, he wrote it himself," Robb said. "He had asked me to personally see that it reached you or your brother. Lord Malcom fought bravely and honourably, trying to rally his men after battle was joined. He fell to an arrow and upon realising that the battle was lost he ordered his men to surrender to save their lives." Lord Jason sighed as he lowered the letter and placed it back in his surcoat.

"My lord father always put the welfare of his men first where he could," he said. "It was the one thing that he and Lord Lannister would disagree on." Lord Jason took a deep breath and looked back at Robb. "Name your terms Prince Robb, and we'll see where we go from there." A promising start, Robb thought as he nodded his head and straightened his back.

"First, you will yield Silverhill to me," Robb began, "order your garrison to stand down and lay down their arms. Those who wish to return home will be allowed to do so. Those who wish to take the black will be allowed to do so. Secondly, House Serrett will pay half of its wealth to the Riverlands as part of the Westerlands debt to the lands of House Tully and their vassal lords. You will also send a third of your food stores to the Riverlands for redistribution to cover the crops that were destroyed by Lord Lannister's hosts during the sacking of the Riverlands. Lastly, you will deliver a member of your family to be held as a hostage until the war's end to ensure the compliance of House Serrett." Lord Jason looked at Robb with raised brows, his left hand moving from the reins of his horse to grip the pommel of his sword.

"Those are severe terms my prince," the new Lord Serrett said. "I cannot agree to such terms so easily. It is too much. I can send one sixth of my food stores and deliver one of my younger siblings as a hostage, but that is all that I am prepared to do." Robb sighed at this response, shifting in his saddle before looking at the lord in the eye. He kept his face stern and his voice firm when he spoke.

"The only alternative is that I will have no choice but to wrest Silverhill from you through battle," he told Lord Jason. "If I am forced to do that then you will suffer the same fate as House Lydden of Deep Den; your mines will be emptied of all wealth save for a tenth, half of your food stores will be claimed, and you and your siblings will be held in the dungeons of your castle save for the younger members who will be held in their rooms under guard. As the head of your House you will be sent to the Golden Tooth to await transport to Riverrun."

"And what will happen there once you have won the war?" Lord Jason asked in a demanding tone.

"That will be for my father King Eddard to decide," Robb answered. "It will either be the Wall or back home. For you it will likely be back home. Others may not be so fortunate." The lord shuffled in his saddle as he looked off to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. Robb wondered what was going on through his mind right now. Before long Lord Jason looked at him, his face softened.

"I'll be honest with you Prince Robb," he started. "The host that my brother Daven was riding with was my only hope of fighting you off. Obviously that has not worked, so I can see that I am now in a precarious position. I am not so foolish as to force you to storm my castle, that would serve no one, and I can see the way the wind is blowing. We lost the war the day you took Lord Lannister prisoner. I will not see blood shed within my walls, but your terms as I said are severe. I will not have my own suffer but nor will I sit back and accept such terms without fighting, so here is what I propose. You and I will fight and no other." Robb blinked in surprise at that, as that was not what he had expected. "We will fight until one of us yields to the other. If I prove the stronger sword then I'll allow one of my younger siblings to be taken as a ward and deliver one sixth of my food stores to you. If you prove the stronger sword then your terms will stand and I shall accept them." Robb narrowed his eyes slightly at him, taking in a deep breath before he turned to face his companions who all looked as surprised as he felt. After looking at them he turned to face Lord Jason again.

"That is quite bold of you Lord Serrett," he said. "But as you are trying to do the honourable thing and spare the lives of your men I will accept your challenge." The lord nodded his head and smiled.

"Very well my prince," he said. "Then let us meet here in the field in one hour and fight then. It will still be light enough to see what we are doing, and we shall both walk away no matter what the outcome. Do we have an agreement?" Lord Jason urged his horse forward slightly and held out his hand. Robb urged his own mount forward and turned to extend his own arm out. Both men grasped hands and shook, sealing the agreement.

The next hour was spent preparing for the duel with Lord Jason. Robb had word spread throughout the host of what was happening while he checked his arms and armour. He decided to keep the dagger on him but have it visible, and chose to use his longsword and shield. He made it clear to Grey Wind that he would not be needed for the upcoming fight, though his direwolf seemed a little bit put off by that.

"I don't think it'll be well received if you come running in and tear off Lord Serrett's arm should he defeat me," he told him. As he walked over to the field where he and Lord Jason parleyed he was followed by the same companions as earlier. Dacey gave him a respectful nod while Lucas patted him on the arm. Smalljon grinned widely while Olyvar had a nervous look about him.

"Are you certain of this my prince?" Ser Jasper asked him for what must have been the tenth time. Before Robb could answer Smalljon spoke.

"The boy wants to fight his own fight rather than throw away the lives of his men," he said. "Robb has to accept, lest he be ridiculed and named a craven for refusing such an honourable challenge. Either way, we win. Lord Serrett himself admitted that we have already won this war. Just a shame that his fellow lords don't realise that."

"It does make me wonder what Lord Serrett is playing at though," Dacey spoke up, a frown on her face. "Does he intend to land a crippling blow on you Robb, or is his intent as honourable as he stated? I am not sure if we can trust him to keep his word." Robb sighed at her words; although he did not wish to think it he had to admit that it was possible that Lord Jason might try something.

"That is why we will have our men stood ready, just in case," Robb told them. "Should the Serretts try something we will crush them. Let's hope they are not so foolish."

"Well we're about to find out Robb," Lucas said pointing towards Silverhill. Looking over his shoulder Robb saw ten men riding towards him like last time. Lord Jason was with them again, but this time he wore full steel plate armour with the Serrett peacock engraved upon the breastplate. He had a shield and a mace as well as a long bladed dagger strapped to his right hip. Robb stopped walking when he reached the same spot where he was earlier when he and Lord Jason parleyed. The Lord of Silverhill dismounted his horse and walked over to Robb, fixing him with a grim expression.

"When you are ready Prince Robb," he called out. Robb nodded his head and stepped forward, drawing his sword and raising his shield.

Robb walked to the middle of the field and met Lord Jason halfway. He saw the Serrett men gather around, eager to watch their lord fight. Looking over his shoulder Robb saw his friends doing the same, shouting words of encouragement to him. Looking back at his opponent Robb saw Lord Jason bang his mace against his shield, indicating that he was ready. Robb did the same, and the two of them began to circle each other. Robb watched Lord Jason carefully, waiting for him to make the first move. They circled each other for a couple of minutes until Robb decided to feign an attack. He moved forward and raised his sword as if to strike and Lord Jason lunged at him, swinging his mace at his shield. Robb stepped closer to the lord and smashed his shield to the left, intercepting the mace and halting the strike. Robb thrust his sword at Lord Jason, who slammed his shield down to redirect the blow. His attack thwarted, Robb pushed himself forward into his foe in a bid to throw him off balance. Lord Jason staggered back and nearly fell, but Robb did not press the advantage. He let the lord straighten himself up and gave him a moment before attacking again only to redirect his slash to parry the mace as Lord Jason had spun his body around so that the mace came from Robb's right. He was able to parry the strike but the momentum sent him staggering to the side. The lord followed up with another strike but Robb blocked with his shield this time. As he did he saw the shield of his foe racing to meet his helmeted head. Robb had to let go of his shield in order to quickly get away from the attack, which left him more vulnerable. If he gets a good hit then I'm in trouble, he realised as he stepped back. Lord Jason kicked the shield away from them before throwing aside his own shield, much to Robb's surprise. He wants to keep this fight as even as possible. The two of them circled each other again, but this time they only did this for a few seconds.

Lord Jason moved first, lunging towards Robb with his mace up as if about to smash the weapon into his skull. Robb however chose to step back, and when his foe's mace did not swing for where his head had been he knew then that the move was a feint. Lord Jason cursed loudly before he went back on the offensive, swinging his mace at Robb once, twice, thrice before slamming his shoulder into him. The three swings Robb had parried but the shoulder he was not prepared for so he tumbled down to the ground, landing on his back. As he hit the ground he slashed out with his sword, aiming at the leg. Lord Jason jumped back a couple of feet, giving Robb some room to get back up. He had gotten to his knees when the lord struck out with his mace, the blow aimed for his head. Robb ducked down under the swing but he had lost his balance and had fallen again. He landed on his right side, and was expecting his foe to take advantage. When he looked up he saw that Lord Jason had stepped back, giving him room to stand. Is he actually trying to keep this fight even and honourable, or is he lulling me into believing that? he wondered, so Robb decide to take a gamble.

As slowly as he could, giving the impression that he was winded, Robb climbed back up onto his feet. He kept his head down low, but not so low that he could not watch Lord Jason for any sign of a move. Sure enough his gamble paid off; the Lord of Silverhill approached him, raising his mace up. As the mace came swinging down Robb sprung up to his feet quickly and hurled himself at the lord, his left shoulder colliding into his foe's chest. The man fell onto the ground, his mace flying out of his hand with the sudden unexpected impact. Robb watched as the man reached for his dagger, his gauntleted hand grabbing the hilt. As the blade came free Robb swung his sword against the small blade, sending it flying out of the man's hand. Before Lord Jason could even begin to recover Robb dropped down onto his knee and drew his own dagger while bringing his sword down to the lord's throat. The lord grabbed Robb's sword arm with both hands, and Robb brought his dagger to his throat. Looking into his foe's eyes he saw the look of shock which quickly turned to resignation, and he knew before Lord Jason spoke that he had beaten him.

"Yield! I yield!" the Lord of Silverhill called out loudly.

With the duel over (and sooner than he expected it to be), Robb had accepted Lord Jason's defeat and helped him back up to his feet. His own men cheered while the Serrett men looked shattered by their lord's defeat and surrender. Both men removed their helms and stepped apart, and a few minutes later the garrison of Silverhill began to march out. Robb rejoined his own host as they made ready to move in to formally accept Lord Jason's surrender.

"For a moment there I thought you had been winded by the man Robb," Dacey said with a smirk as he mounted his horse. Robb smiled at her as he looked back at the castle.

"So did Lord Serrett it seemed," he replied. "That was my intention, to make him think he could best me easily if he thought I was weakening." Smalljon laughed loudly, slapping Robb on the back.

"You could've fought him for a bit longer you know," he said. "Give the men a good show." Robb chuckled as he looked at his friend.

"I could've, but I wanted the fight done as quickly as possible," he told him. After half an hour Robb and his companions rode through the gates of Silverhill, his men marching in behind him. As he entered he saw Lord Jason standing in front of the door, a respectful look in his eyes while his face was grim. Robb dismounted his horse, Smalljon and Lucas also dismounting, and he walked over to the defeated lord who bent the knee to him.

"Silverhill is yours my prince," the man said. "I will deliver the wealth and food as per your demands, and I shall allow one of my siblings to travel to the Golden Tooth to be taken as a hostage." He spoke humbly, but he did so as a man who had not just been defeated in combat.

"My thanks for your surrender my lord," Robb told him. He let the lord stand back up and looked him in the eye before asking him a question. "You were waiting for me to think you were giving me room to stand up when you were not going to, weren't you?" Lord Jason gave a small smile and a nod of his head.

"I have fought in a tourney once," he said. "It's a common trick during single combat during a melee. Let you opponent think you are giving him a chance to get on his feet, and strike when he is halfway up. Always the best way to catch someone off guard. Though you clearly saw through it." Robb nodded his head in response.

"I had a feeling you were doing that, so I moved slowly while keeping my eye on you," he told him honestly. Lord Jason sighed as he shook his head.

"That's what I get for being overconfident," he said before leading Robb and his companions and lords inside.

An hour later Robb was sat down with Dacey, Smalljon, Lucas, Olyvar, Ser Jasper and Lord Jason inside the castle's great hall. Lord Jason's family was also gathered; his brother Ser Daven was sitting on his left with two more siblings, a brother named Gerold who was about eleven, and a sister named Eleanor who was nine. To Lord Jason's right was an older woman with greying hair, dressed in black; this was Lady Ellen Serrett, Lord Malcom's widow. Sitting next to her was the Maester of Silverhill, a bald man named Filon. Robb and his friends sat on one side of the table while Lord Jason and his family sat across from them.

"Your demands are steep Prince Robb," Lady Ellen said as Robb went over what House Serrett was to give over.

"We have already discussed this mother," Lord Jason spoke, his voice stern. "Prince Robb and I duelled over the matter to determine the price we have to pay. I lost, therefore Prince Robb's demands stand."

"If you had not been so overconfident you would have beaten the boy," she hissed. Robb resisted the urge to sigh. Lady Ellen was anything but understanding of the situation it seemed. "How you fell to a Northman is beyond me."

"Then it'll be beyond you as to how Lord Lannister fell to this same Northman," Lord Jason snapped back.

"Don't you take that tone with me young man," she hissed, and Robb could only watch on as the Serrett's bickered like children. For the love of the gods do not give away your mother as our hostage, Robb thought, wondering if Lord Jason had been intending to give her over from the start.

"That's enough mother," Lord Jason said as he glared at Lady Ellen. "The North are winning this war, we are not. Tywin Lannister is done. House Lannister is done. I cannot see how they can recover from their humiliating defeat." After speaking to his mother he looked over to Filon. "Maester Filon, my lady mother is exhausted from the day's events. Some essence of nightshade may help her get a quiet night's sleep. Daven, would you escort our mother to her chambers?"

"Of course, my lord," Ser Daven answered as he rose from his seat. Lady Ellen looked beyond angry at her eldest son, but she said nothing as Filon stood up and stepped back. When Ser Daven offered her his arm she reluctantly stood up from her seat.

"This isn't over Jason," she hissed as she was escorted from the room. When the door closed Lord Jason let out a long sigh.

"I apologise for that Prince Robb, but my mother is prone to being unreasonable when she is upset," he explained. "Unfortunately my mother gets upset an awful lot. This is a regular occurrence these days." Lord Jason took a deep breath before picking up a quill and dipping it into the inkwell in front of him. "Anyway, moving forward." Robb leaned over the table, his hands clasped in front of him as he looked at the lord as he wrote down their agreement. The Serretts would pay half of their wealth and a third of their food as demanded, which was what Lord Jason was writing down just now. "All we need to do is agree to who your hostage will be. I doubt after that display you'll want my mother as a hostage, although taking her would be doing me a massive kindness."

"Jason!" Eleanor spoke out in a scandalised tone. Robb would have laughed at the nine year old had this not been a serious meeting, but it seemed that Smalljon had no problem laughing. Robb looked at his friend and saw him receive a slap from Dacey. The Umber heir fell quiet and Robb nodded his head to Dacey in thanks. "That is not nice to say. She is our mother."

"And a pain in the arse Eleanor," Gerold responded, earning a smack over the head from Lord Jason.

"None of that language here Gerold," he told his little brother sternly before looking back at Robb. "So as it stands you have the option of taking either of my youngest siblings. Gerold is a bit... vocal, shall we say, but Eleanor is thankfully a polite little lady who remembers her manners, thank the Seven." Looking at Eleanor Robb noticed her rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither is Eleanor," Gerold spat, his voice stubborn. The lord rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Seven who are one give me strength," Lord Jason said before looking back at Gerold. "Do you think you can beat Prince Robb in single combat? If so then you can set the terms."

"Father would never allow this to happen," Gerold snapped.

"Our father is dead..."

"No thanks to these Northman!"

"ENOUGH GEROLD!" Eleanor jumped in fright at her eldest brother's shout. Robb sighed as he sat up straighter and looked at the Serretts. Gerold was red in the face while his brother was visibly shaking with anger. Eleanor looked ready to burst into tears at her brothers fighting. He could take the girl but he felt that that was far too cruel, but at the same time the boy was far too combative and seemed ready to argue all the time. Did you have to give me this hardship father? he thought. Taking children from their families? This is worse than a bloody battle. After a moment Robb looked at Lord Jason.

"Surely one of your younger siblings wants to see some of the eastern parts of the Westerlands my lord?" he said suggestively, hoping that one of the two would think of it as going on a little adventure. While Gerold seemed indifferent Eleanor looked up at him with far greater interest. "I'm sure there are parts of these lands that either Gerold or Eleanor would love to see." Lord Jason looked at Robb and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, that would be a good idea," he said. Gerold huffed in anger then and glared at Robb, his eyes full of hate.

"Don't think you can convince me with such a foolish idea," he said. For just a moment Robb thought he was talking to that damned idiot Joffrey. Gerold seems to behave like him a fair bit, he thought.

"If all you are going to do is give us grief I might as well ship you off to the Wall Gerold," Lord Jason said, his voice full of frustration. Robb shook his head. This is getting out of hand, he thought, deciding to make his decision. However before he could speak Eleanor stood up fast, tears starting to leave her eyes as she began yelling at her brothers.

"Stop it, both of you!" she screeched. "I'll go! I'll be their ward or whatever it is I am supposed to be! Just stop fighting both of you!" Robb slumped in his seat as he watched the little girl storm out of the room, crying loudly. Gerold sat down in his seat and let out a petulant groan while Lord Jason turned to face Robb once more.

"Well then," he started off slowly, eyeing his youngest brother who just seemed to be ignoring him now. "It seems we have an agreement my prince."

"Indeed," Robb agreed as the lord went back to writing the agreement down. After a few quiet moments Lord Jason slid the parchment over to Robb to read over. He read it twice before nodding his head, satisfied with the letter. Robb took the quill and added his signature to the letter, with Ser Jasper and Lucas adding theirs after he was done. The letter signed Lord Jason stood up and shook Robb's hand before leaving the hall, an angry Gerold stomping after him. When the Serretts were gone Robb let out a loud sigh.

"What an awful little shit that boy is," Dacey said as she stood up from her seat.

"Aye, he certainly is," Smalljon agreed. Robb looked at his friends, seeing them all stand up and stretch their legs.

"I can understand Lady Serrett's annoyance," Ser Jasper said as he moved around the table. "But I must say I'm disappointed in young Gerold. He should have behaved better than that."

"My brother Rickon can behave better than him, and he's only four," Robb said. "It matters not, we have our agreement. Now we just have to see what else will happen."

Robb led his group outside to the camp where his tent was. He could rightly demand to sleep inside Silverhill but Robb prefers sleeping in his own tent as most of his men have to do when occupying an enemy castle, believing that he should share in their hardships when on enemy land. It's not right for me to enjoy comfort on campaign while the men are all having to sleep out in their tents, he decided when he first rode out.

"Olyvar, go on ahead and check out how the camp is doing," he told his squire.

"Yes my prince," Olyvar said dutifully before running off. As they walked along Robb looked at the others; Lucas was yawning as he walked while Ser Jasper was cringing at a jape that Smalljon was telling him. Dacey however seemed quieter than normal, looking lost in her thoughts. Robb hung back a little bit and then walked beside her when she caught up.

"Something on your mind Dacey?" he asked. The Mormont heir looked at him, startled by him suddenly speaking.

"N... no, no I'm fine," she said. "Just thinking a lot these days." A small smile played on her lips as she looked away. Robb frowned but chose not to ask any further. Whatever it was that was on Dacey's mind she would speak of it when she was ready. Dacey went to her own tent saying a quick farewell to Robb and the others, leaving him and Grey Wind to wander off to his own tent as the rest wandered to their tents. He would meet up with Dacey and the others again later on for their supper before going to sleep, but that was not for another couple of hours yet. He entered his tent and sat down, sighing as he tried to get comfortable. What an interesting day today has been, he mused as he rubbed his hands over his face. He leaned across to the table where a journal lay and picked it up. He opened it to the marked page and read over what he had written last time; details on what was taken after the storming of Deep Den as well as how many men-at-arms lost their lives that day. Robb stood up from his seat with a grumble and put the journal back down before looking for his inkwell and quill. I'd rather be back in that fight I had earlier today than be dealing with this work, he thought as he sat down and began to write about the events that took place today.

Loras

Loras rode his horse hard as he saw Highgarden in the distance. Ser Robar and Brienne of Tarth were right behind him, along with a few dozen other knights that were following. He had lost track of time since that horrible day, when Renly was found dead along with Ser Emmon Cuy. He had been murdered, and everyone seemed to believe that his father Mace Tyrell had done it. He spoke with his father after Lord Tarly had ordered for him to be kept in his tent. The Lord of Horn Hill seemed convinced of Mace's guilt after a bloodstained dagger had been found in Mace's tent, which according to some servant girl was being carried by someone who looked like Loras's father. Loras himself was not convinced at all; he asked his father outright if there was any truth to what Lord Tarly was saying, but Mace looked him in the eye and told him that he was innocent. Loras believed his father when he said that. My father could never betray Renly, he thought. He would only hurt Margaery, and that's something that he would never ever do. Unfortunately most seemed to think that Mace was guilty, especially after a letter had allegedly been found which further proved Mace's alleged guilt. Loras would have asked his father about the letter, but when he heard that it was from Littlefinger he knew that his father was being set up.

Loras did not see Stannis at all that day, but he had seen others who were loyal to him wandering about the camp. Over the course of the day most of the banners who had been sworn to Renly decided to join with Stannis, and so marched to Storm's End to bring a swift end to the siege. Loras would have gone to Renly's body but he had been moved already by Stannis's orders. Loras stayed with his father until Robar and Brienne had appeared and told him they were leaving for Highgarden to bring word to Margaery. He closed his eyes as he remembered his father's words to him.

"You should go Loras," he had told him. "Go home and tell Margaery what has happened. And tell her... tell her that I am sorry and no matter what anyone says I did not do it."

"Come with us father," Loras begged him even as Robar made to pull him out. "If you stay here you'll die. I can get you out of here before Stannis tries to kill you." Mace had smiled at him, a sad smile. His father may well have been a fat bumbling fool at times (though Loras would never say that aloud), but he was a still a father who loved his children.

"Better for me to die than for them to have you as a hostage," Mace had said sadly. Loras had fought back the tears before leaving the tent and sneaking away with the others. They had gotten to the edges of the camp without being accosted by any of Stannis's men, and soon had mounted their horses and rode for the nearby woods.

When they had reached the woods it was night time, and Loras looked back to the camp in the distance. He had sat atop his horse, his hands shaking, when he noticed a large crowd in the centre of the camp. Minutes later he saw someone being pulled into the middle of the crowd, and soon that person was left alone as those who dragged him walked off. Then someone approached with a flaming brand, and Loras realised that it was his father who was in the middle of the crowd. He tried to turn his horse around but Robar had grabbed the reins of his horse so he quickly dismounted and ran towards the camp. Brienne had tackled him to the ground and held him down, telling him it was too late. Loras struggled as he looked up and saw the fire surrounding his father, and before long he heard his father's death shrieks. Loras watched, tears pouring down his face, as his father was burned alive.

After that the journey was just a blur to him. He barely remembered Brienne dragging him back to his horse and telling him he would not get revenge if he got himself killed now. He barely remembered Robar giving him his condolences a few days later. All he could think of was how he had failed those he loved. Margaery... father... mother... grandmother... Renly. Loras held his tears in, willing himself not to break down now. He rode on, barely responding to his companions; every day he woke up, broke his fast, rode his horse, stopped to eat supper, slept. That was his pattern for however many days have now passed. Renly haunted his dreams every night; he was always stood there, looking and smiling as Loras ran to him, shouting at him to move out of the way as a man whose face was blurred raised up a dagger before plunging it down. Every time Loras would reach Renly just as he was stabbed, and then Renly would stare at him with a broken look in his eyes.

"Why Loras?" he would say. "Why didn't you save me? I was right there. Why did you push me away?" Then Renly would disappear only to be replaced with a broken hearted Margaery, who would sit there on her knees, dressed in black and weeping into her hands. He would reach her and she would brush away his touch.

"WHY?" she would shriek in his dreams. "I LOVED HIM LORAS, JUST AS YOU DID! WHY DID YOU NOT STAY WITH HIM? YOU SHOULD'VE DIED WITH HIM!" Then Margaery would fade away. Then he would see those who have now turned their cloaks, such as Tarly and Caron. They would all look at him as he wandered around; some would laugh, others would glower, but all mocked him for his failure. And then he would see his father. Loras would run to him only to stop and see his younger self, a boy of six playing with a toy sword in his hand, whacking away at his father, who was slimmer then.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be the best knight that the Kingsguard will ever have," his younger self would squeal with childish delight. His father would laugh.

"Yes son, you'll be a fine knight," he would say, then Mace would look at Loras and be the fat jovial man that Loras knew him from recent memory. "And then you'll be a Kingsguard, and you will fail those you love," Mace would say before turning serious. "And you'll be a husk of a man, fighting until you die. Wishing to die. Wanting to just roll over and die." As he spoke Mace would be surrounded by flames that would melt his clothes away before engulfing him. "YOU FAILED US BOY!" With that Loras would wake up from his dream with a start, and the next day would begin.

Now he was riding for Highgarden, the rest of his companions behind him. He saw his family castle loom in the distance, growing larger with every minute that passed. He rode hard, urging his mount to go faster and not caring that the beast was exhausted. He had to get inside his home, he had to. I need to tell them, he told himself. It has to be me. Loras rode, for however long he rode for, and then he found himself before the massive doors of his family's home. Willas was stood there leaning on his cane, Garlan walking from behind with their mother Alerie following.

"Loras?" a voice called out softly. He turned his face and saw Margaery striding forwards elegantly, wearing a dress of black and gold. "Loras, what are you doing here? What's happened?" Loras dismounted his horse and walked forwards, only to stumble and collapse. "LORAS!?" his sister shrieked in horror as he fell. Loras looked up and saw Willas struggling down to him.

"Loras?" he called out, his voice distant as Loras's vision grew dim. "Loras, can you hear me?" Loras tried to talk, but he struggled to form words. Then everything was dark.

When Loras came to he was lying down in a feather bed. His whole body felt incredibly stiff. He opened his eyes and saw that his vision was quite blurry, but he could make out someone on a chair by his bed. His vision cleared slowly, and soon he saw that it was his brother Willas who was sitting there, reading a book. Willas looked up from his book and hurriedly put it down.

"Maester Lomys, Loras is awake," he said to someone off to the side. Loras turned his head to see Lomys shuffling over to him.

"Ah, good to see you awake young man," he said. "I wouldn't try to move too much. You'll be far too exhausted for today at least. For now just relax, and have something to drink." Lomys gave Loras a cup of bitter tasting water, which felt rough on his throat. "Your companions told us that you have not been eating properly for the last few days. It comes as no surprise that your lack of eating properly contributed to your collapse. Some servants will come with some food later on, but do yourself a favour and don't eat too quickly." Afterwards the Maester left the room, leaving Loras alone with Willas, who he noticed was wearing black.

"How are you?" Willas asked him as he shifted himself off of his chair, his cane in hand. Loras shook his head, slowly bringing his numb arm up to try and brush his hair to the side.

"How's Margaery?" he demanded. He was not ready to discuss himself yet. Thankfully Willas took the hint.

"Devastated," he replied. "Ser Robar and Lady Brienne told us about what happened. When they told us about Renly Margaery nearly collapsed herself at the news, but when they told us about father..." Willas trailed off as he looked away, his free hand visibly shaking. "Mother's distraught. She spends every day weeping for father. Just the mere sound of laughter reduces her to tears now. Grandmother has been quiet, but I can see that our father's death has hit her hard too. Margaery has all but locked herself in her chambers. She allows visitors and she eats at least, but she hasn't left since the day you came back." Loras struggled to sit up from the bed, feeling dizzy as he moved. He jammed his eyes shut as he tried to steady himself. After a minute when he felt well enough to do so he opened his eyes.

"How long have I been out?" he asked. Willas sighed as he leant on his cane heavily with both hands.

"Eight days," he told Loras. He limped back to his seat and sat back down heavily, wincing as he did. "Your horse was exhausted, but it managed to survive. I've had her cleaned and fed, and she's secured in the stables. Lady Brienne has chosen to remain here, but Ser Robar decided to leave and inform his father and brother of what has transpired." Willas fell silent then, looking down at his lap before he stood up with a sigh. "Take as much time as you need little brother. When you're able to leave your bed, go and see Margaery."

"She'll hate me," Loras blurted out. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Don't break down. Don't break down, he ordered himself. "She'll hate me for failing Renly. For..."

"Nonsense Loras," Willas said sharply. "She won't hate you. Even if she will deny it you are her favourite brother. She can never hate you. In fact she seems to think that you hate her." Loras looked up at his elder brother then, confused by what he just said.

"Why would I hate her? That doesn't make any sense," he told him.

"She was under the impression that her love for Renly would lead to you hating her," Willas answered him. "I told her otherwise, but I don't think she quite believed me." Loras looked away from his brother then, looking off to the window that gave him a view of the outside world.

"What do I do?" he asked. "What can I do?" He looked back at Willas who was standing by the door now. Willas sighed as he turned to open the door and step out.

"Just rest for today Loras," he said. "When you are well enough, go and see her." Willas closed the door behind him, leaving Loras alone with his thoughts.

After a time some servants entered the room with a couple of plates filled with food. Loras followed Maester Lomys's advice and ate the food slowly, not wanting to make himself ill from eating too much or too quickly. An hour had passed when he received another visitor in the form of his mother. Alerie walked in, her silver hair tied back and her otherwise lovely face was full of sorrow. Her eyes were red from near endless crying. She sat down beside her youngest son and was quiet for a short while before speaking.

"How are you, Loras?" she asked trying to sound cheerful, though he could tell her heart was not in it.

"I don't know mother," he said honestly. "I cannot describe how I feel. I don't think there are anywhere near enough words to describe my feelings. Everything is just... just..." As he trailed off he looked at his mother and saw the tears in her eyes starting to fall. Alerie tried hard to not weep, but she was not doing well at holding it in. "Come here mother," he said as he held his arms out to her. His mother wrapped her arms tightly around him and wept loudly.

"You... you shouldn't have ha... had to watch that," she managed between sobs. "You should... shouldn't have had to watch... your father die that... that way. I... I can't imagine how... how horrible it must've been." Loras tightened his hold on his mother, trying hard not to break down. His mother stayed with him for about an hour, and they talked little. When the hour had passed Alerie left Loras alone. He lay in bed for a long time before drifting off to sleep. Renly continued to plague his dreams, along with his father and the others.

The next morning Loras rose out of bed and got dressed. There were some clothes left behind for him to wear, and they were all black in colour. Loras pulled on the breeches and doublet before making his way down the stairs to the hall that his family used for private meals. He entered the hall and saw that his mother and grandmother were sat down beside each other, with Willas sat on the lord's seat. Loras was about to open his mouth and tell him that was their father's seat, but he stopped himself before he could. Father's gone, he reminded himself. Willas is now the Lord of Highgarden. Garlan was sat to Willas's right, dressed in his armour and quietly speaking to him. To Willas's left was Garth Tyrell, their great-uncle, who serves as the Lord Seneschal of Highgarden. The older man who is better known as Garth the Gross for his flatulence had a stack of papers in his hands and was just standing up. Thank the gods for that, Loras thought.

"I will see that the papers are sent off my lord," Garth said, his voice quiet and respectful.

"Thank you Lord Seneschal," Willas replied, and then the man took his leave, leaving behind an unpleasant odour as he walked away. Loras walked up to the table and sat down beside Garlan.

"Morning Loras," he said quietly. Loras gave a short reply when he was seated.

"I have called for the banners still loyal to us," Willas said. "I will have Highgarden defended if Lord Tarly should turn his attention to us. In the mean time we shall prepare to ride north to Riverrun." Loras looked at his brother then, stunned at that declaration.

"Are we going to put the Starks on the Iron Throne?" he asked.

"No Loras," his grandmother answered then, quieter than expected. "But we need an alliance with them. Under the circumstances I am looking at my other granddaughter to see if she will be a suitable bride for Ned Stark's heir." Loras looked at Olenna with wide eyes.

"Cousin Desmera?" he asked, hating how stupid he sounded. "Would Uncle Paxter accept?"

"We will worry about that later," Willas interrupted them, his voice loud. "For the next couple of days I will have no political discussions in the dining hall. We shall eat our meals here without speaking of any matters of the realm, only when we exit this hall shall we discuss such matters." The hall fell silent as servants brought in food for them all to eat. Loras grabbed himself some bacon rashers and sausages along with toasted bread and a boiled egg, which he ate slowly. After his breakfast he left the hall and walked outside, wandering around one of the gardens. He walked along at a slow pace, listening to the sounds of birds singing and horses neighing. He walked along, not paying any attention to the passage of time. He remembered better times from before King Robert's death; his first time meeting Renly when he was sent to squire for him at Storm's End, learning about being a knight, beating someone at the lists for the first time, and most importantly to Loras his first time in Renly's arms. He remembered everything that he had shared with Renly, all of the good times spent sneaking off to enjoy one another, all of the times spent kissing and cuddling, and all of the intense moments of passion they had when they could get away with it.

Loras cannot remember how he ended up there to begin with, but when he had finally gotten hold of his senses he was standing outside the door to his sister's chambers. Brienne was stood outside in her armour, her left hand gripping the hilt of her sword. She looked at Loras with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

"I'm here to see my sister," Loras told her bluntly. Brienne nodded her head and turned to knock on the door.

"Your grace, your brother Ser Loras wishes to speak with you," she called out. Loras heard his sister's muffled reply, and a moment later Brienne opened the door slightly. Loras walked forward, moving towards the open door, when suddenly he felt Brienne's hand grab his shoulder. Her grip was much more gentle than he expected from her. "We all loved him Ser Loras," she said to him softly. "We all did." She did not need to say who she was talking about, but it still caught him off guard. Any other time Loras would shake her hand off and just ignore the woman, but this time he did not. Instead he looked at the woman in her eyes and nodded his head respectfully. She let him go and he walked into the room.

The door closed behind him as he walked into the middle of the room, and he looked around until he saw Margaery standing by the window. She had her back to him, her soft brown hair was loose and her dress pure black. Loras stepped closer to her, clearing his throat. Margaery slowly turned around to face him, and Loras nearly gasped at the look of utter devastation on her face. Her eyes were redder than their mother's had been, and upon closer inspection Loras realised that her hair was a complete mess. Her brown curls were sticking out in such a way it looked like Margaery had been dragged backwards through a row of hedges.

"Margaery," Loras said softly. He could not say anything else despite wanting to tell her a hundred things. He just stood there with a lump in his throat. Finally he was able to speak again after what felt like an eternity of silence. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Margaery croaked out as tears flooded down her cheeks, and soon Loras felt his own tears fall. After a moment she strode over to Loras and threw her arms around him, weeping loudly into his shoulder as he wrapped his own arms around her. They both stood there, Margaery's sobs muffled as Loras finally gave in to his grief. Brother and sister cried together for the loss of both their father and the man that both of them had loved. They wept for a long time until they both were sat down on chairs by the window, their tears spent. Loras told Margaery everything that happened at the camp; his and Renly's conversation; the discovery of the bodies of Renly and Ser Emmon; Tarly's detainment of their father after the discovery of the dagger and later on the letter; and Mace telling Loras to leave and go back to Highgarden. After he had told her all of that Margaery told him about the letter that Littlefinger had sent. She showed the letter to him and Loras read it several times before he realised that he was right about Littlefinger setting his father up.

"That bastard," he said, his voice while quiet laced with rage. "He set this up. He was hoping for this. If I ever get my hands on Petyr fucking Baelish I'll skin him alive." Margaery's hand grabbed his forearm and gently squeezed him.

"He's long gone if he isn't dead already," she told him. "Not long after we received that letter we heard of Baelish's arrest for murdering Lord Arryn." Loras was surprised by that news. "We also heard that he had escaped from King's Landing not long after his arrest. So wherever he is he'll be far away from here." Loras snorted in disgust at the treacherous lord's escape.

"As long as he is out there he is a threat to us all," he told her. "He can scrounge up money quicker than a whore spreads her legs for a client. We have to find him now."

"And where do you suggest we look Loras?" she asked him. "By the time we get to one place he'll be in another location, and we will have no fewer than ten locations to choose from to try and track him down. All we can do is keep our ears to the ground and our eyes open. For now we should work on ending this war." Margaery stood up and walked over to the window, her arms folded over her chest. She was silent for a minute before she spoke again. "Uncle Paxter will be arriving within the next few days with Aunt Mina and Desmera. When they arrive we will depart for Riverrun and seek an audience with Ned Stark." Loras looked up at her then, confused by this sudden statement. Before he spoke he remembered what Willas said to him earlier that day about riding for Riverrun.

"That's why we are riding north isn't it?" he asked. Margaery looked over her shoulder and nodded her head.

"I will travel there with grandmother, our aunt and uncle, Desmera, over a hundred guards and whoever else I need to take with me as well as the banners of those who have stayed loyal to us," she said matter-of-factly. "The Seven Kingdoms are no more. There will be no one person ruling over all of Westeros. Dorne may well go their own way, and after what happened to Princess Elia sixteen years ago who can blame them. The Riverlands and soon the Vale will only bend the knee to the Starks who already have the North. I can see which way the wind is blowing. Grandmother sees it. Willas sees it. Stannis Baratheon does not." Margaery turned around to face Loras fully, her face set into a look of fierce determination. "He will wage war upon all who refuse to accept his new god. Lord Tarly may now fight for him but he will soon find himself having to choose between the Seven and this Lord of Light. Stannis will have to face much opposition over his conversion, and he will never accept the sovereignty of the Northern Kingdoms. As long as this war goes on people will suffer. I cannot accept that." She stepped closer to Loras and put her hand on his shoulder. "I will not allow my people to suffer because of this war. I will not allow Stannis Baratheon to sit any throne. I would sooner be Queen over just the Stormlands and the Reach than see Stannis try to rule over all the realm with an iron fist." Loras stood up and looked at his sister then, putting both his hands onto her shoulders. The way Margaery was talking just now had frightened him a little bit. He has never seen his sister like this at all.

"I'm with you every step of the way Margaery," he began before taking a deep breath. "But I don't think Stark will be willing to see a Tyrell take the Throne. He does not trust our family, especially as we have no true claim now that Renly is..." He trailed off then, looking away while willing himself not to break down again. "Now that Renly is gone." He looked back as his sister's face and saw her give the barest hint of a smile. He frowned at that, wondering why until Margaery took one of his hands.

"A good thing then," she said as she brought his hand down to her belly, "that I am carrying Renly's heir."

Author's Note: And that's that, with confirmation that Margaery is carrying a little Baratheon.

Next chapter will have a time skip of about a month, and we will go back to Riverrun and see things from Jon's POV before moving on to Sarsfield, where Robb's army will be camped outside of. I'll get the next chapter up asap.