Chapter 5

King's Landing

Jon blinked open his eyes and squinted against the rays of golden light that streamed into his and Dany's chambers. He raised a hand to his face, remnants of sleep still making his mind foggy. He felt the stirring of a warm body next to him, and he turned to look at the silky silhouette of skin strewn over his body. Silver hair free of the usual elegant braids she often wore that reached down her back, a wisp of it brushing against his chest.

Her long lashes fluttered ever so subtlety as she slept, and for a moment he was just content to lay here and watch her breathe, the gentle rise and fall of her chest a beautiful sight.

All these years and he still couldn't believe she was his wife. His queen. He didn't think he would ever get used to waking up to this woman.

But even despite the peaceful look on her face as she slept, Jon knew there was something dark taking root in her mind. It kept her distant from him, and he could feel it like a void between them. It hurt that she wouldn't tell him what was bothering her. He had always known Daenerys as a woman of strength, who had a habit of maintaining a wall of ice around her, sometimes even to him. He was probably the only person alive she'd bear her soul to, but even he found himself on the outside of her shell from time to time. And he hated it because he knew it was her way of protecting him, much more than herself.

The dark seed of worry imbeds itself firmly into Jon's heart as he watches his wife sleep soundly with half her body covering his chest. Yesterday at the meeting, he was reminded of how impulsive she can be. How quickly her mind flies to violent and rash thoughts. He didn't want to let his mind go there, to even breathe life into the idea...but he couldn't help thinking that as much as he and many others who love her have tried to suppress that part of her, there still remains a part of the Mad King in her.

…

Samwell Tarly sat at his desk, numerous tomes open before him as he poured tirelessly over them, searching for answers. So far he didn't have much to go on about how to kill this godlike dragon that was supposedly prophesied to return and destroy the world and mankind. Even when he said it to himself it sounded ridiculous. He wasn't sure if he even believed it.

Sure, the white walkers had been a very real threat, there was no denying that. But if they chose to believe in every legend about monsters there would be no more sanity left in the world. There wasn't a lot of research available to him about this Alduin, and anything he had was in old Valyrian and almost impossible to pronounce. Daenerys had tried, but it didn't make much sense to her either, and there seemed to be a passage missing.

Sam sat back in his chair, frustrated. He felt the weight of exhaustion fall heavy on his shoulders. All this talk of Gods and Dragons and the end of the world was a real downer. And he was no closer to finding out how to stop it.

A knock at the door jarrs him, and he realized he had just been about to fall asleep. Wiping his eyes, he quickly fixed himself, expecting it to be Queen Daenerys. No doubt checking on his progress in regards to Alduin, and he would have to face her disappointment. The dragon queen was quite scary when she was angry.

"Come in, your Grace!" he called out, trying to hide the dread in his voice.

"Your Grace?" a voice that didn't belong to Daenerys spoke, and Sam relaxed as Katarina walked in. The young Targaryen favored the better features of both her parents. She was a beauty, with a sharp mind too. Sam liked talking to the young princess. She spoke with the age of someone much older than a girl of fifteen. "I suppose one day I'll have the honor, but today is not that day, Maester Tarly."

"I thought you were the Queen," says Sam as Katarina wanders further into his study, her eyes gazing around his many collection of books.

"Not yet," Katarina says with a playful smile. She looks at him. "What are you working on?"

"Um, nothing important," Sam quickly closes the book he'd been reading and starts to gather them up. "You know, just reading for pleasure."

"Reading for pleasure?" Katarina regards him skeptically. "Surely the Maester has more pressing matters to attend?"

"You have no idea," Sam grumbles, shuffling past her to put away his books.

Katarina watches him closely, memorizing exactly where he puts them. She doesn't quite believe that she'd walked in on him reading the Tales of Beeezlebee.

"You have so many books," Katarina remarks, turning to peruse the shelves. They are covered in dust. Doesn't anyone ever come to clean in here? "Have you read them all?"

"I think that would be an impossible feat even if you lived a hundred years," Sam chuckles from around the corner.

"Did you know that dragons can live to be over two hundred years old?" Katarina asks in wonder. "And that they never stop growing?"

"Quite terrifying if you ask me," Sam shudders.

"I think it's amazing."

"Well you would, wouldn't you?" Sam winks at her and she smiles.

He turns to the bookshelf and taps a finger against his chin. "Let's see here...ah! Take a look at this." He pulls out a large dusty tome with fine leather binding. He hands it to her.

She blows the dust off it and reads the title: The Conquering of Westeros: The dawn of a New Era.

"The story of how your family shaped Westeros to what it is today," Says Sam. "It started with three Targaryens. They had three dragons. Just like your mother once did."

"Now she only has one," Katarina says quietly, glancing briefly at Sam. A shadow seems to pass over his face for a moment, but it vanishes.

"I need to get back to work. But you're welcome to take that back with you. Just be sure and return it when you're finished."

"I will." Katarina holds the heavy book to her chest. "Thanks, Sam."

…...

Winterfell

Sansa woke to the sound of a horn blasting, and she sat straight up in bed, already fearing the worst. Had something happened?

She jumped out of bed and quickly threw a cloak over her nightgown and hurried out into the courtyard. She could see the large wooden gates opening, and her heart pounded in her chest as she waited to see who was on the other side.

Two horses, one with her eldest son Rodrick on its back, and the other one had Odmund. As relieved as she was to see Rodrick returned safely back home from his hunt, her relief was short lived when she got a good look at the soldier. He was covered in blood and dirt, and looked in a pretty bad way. Why wasn't he with Gendry? Oh Gods…

"What happened?" Sansa demanded as they dismounted their horses. "Why aren't you with the others? Did...did something happen to…?"

"No, my Lady, he's fine," Odmund reassured her with a dip of the head, though he winced while doing it. "Both Lord Gendry and Mira are safe, and en route to King's Landing."

"Gods be good!" Sansa breathed in relief. But she could tell there was more to the story. She demanded to know what happened, and Odmund told her of the attack by the Hill tribes while resting for the night.

As she listened, she couldn't stop the fury from gripping her. Those foul excuses for human beings were still lurking about, waiting to terrorize innocent people who were unfortunate enough to come across them. Something needed to be done about them. She was just grateful that her husband and daughter had survived. It seemed her prayers of safe travels hadn't been ignored after all.

"Go straight to the Maester," Sansa ordered Odmund. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it, my Lady," he rasped, nodding to her again before limping off toward the castle.

Sansa looked at Rodrick and was happy to see him in one piece. The large dead boar strewn over the back of his horse was an indicator to who had lost the battle.

"I see hunting was good," she says, a hint of disapproval in her tone. She would never get used to the idea of her son out there in the wilderness, no matter how old or big and strong he got.

"Aye." Rodrick can tell his mother is shaken from the news of the attack and she is just making small talk. He pulls her into a hug, hoping to quell her anxiety. "Father is strong. And Mira takes after him more than you think. She'll be fine, and he'll return to you."

Sansa let out a sigh and hoped he was right. But she knew Gendry had sent Odmund back for a reason. She would be able to get a raven to Jon in King's Landing before Gendry even reached the castle walls. The Hill tribes needed to be dealt with.

…

The Twins

Ludd Frey let out a loud bellowing laugh from where he sat at the head of his table, listening to a story his men were telling of a eunoch. He really did feel pity for the cockless. Was there even a point in living without one?

"More beer!" he barked at one of his servants after draining his dry and slamming the mug down on the table. "Fucking lazy son of a whore...now where were we?"

They are interrupted by Maester Elliot striding into the room, a scroll clutched in his hand.

"My Lord, a raven from King's Landing," he announces.

"What in the bloody hell could the dragon bitch want with me?" Ludd grumbles. He holds out his hand impatiently. "Well, hand it over then!"

"Not the Queen's words, my Lord," Maester Elliot says as Ludd snatches the scroll from him.

"No?" Ludd reads over the scroll. His brows arch. "So..the king sends his warning to keep the peace with the Starks. Ha!" He spits on the floor in disgust to signify exactly what he thinks on the matter. "I'll keep my fucking peace when they're all rotting in the ground."

"My Lord, with all respect," Maester Elliot bows. "We cannot ignore a direct order from the King. And it would not be wise to oppose the only supplier of Dragonsteel in Westeros."

Ludd Frey snorts, reaching for his ale. "Aye, the bloody steel. Yes, yes. They can't use that as their shield forever. What I do find interesting, however…" Ludd glances back down at the scroll and stubs a chubby finger to it. "Is this line here: 'See to it that you deal with the men who threaten Arya Stark, or I shall pass judgement myself.' The men who threaten Arya Stark. Very interesting. Now, how would the King know anything about our plans for Arya Stark? Hmm? Anyone?"

Silence settles over the table as the men either exchange wear looks, or keep their eyes down on their plates. Ludd slams his fist down on the table, causing a few dishes to fall to the floor and shatter. A few of them jump.

"I asked a damn question!" he bellows. "How does he know about the girl? Someone had better speak, or I'll have all your tongues ripped from your throats!"

Ronald, one of his men with two very large front teeth and a face not even his mother could love speaks up, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. "Apologies, my Lord...i-it was my fault. I was at the Bannered Mare the other night, you see. I'd had a few to drink, you see...my mind wasn't straight-"

"Out with it, boy!" Ludd barks, making him wince.

"I was talking about the Stark girl," Ronald confesses, his eyes darting from Ludd's face to his hands. "And...well...I was overheard."

"You were overheard." Ludd repeats, his voice a low dangerous tone that all his men came to fear. "Overheard...by WHO?!"

Everyone jumps again, even the servant who dropped the plate he'd been cleaning. He quickly scurried out of the room.

"S-ser Bronn, my Lord," Ronald stammers. "Ser Bronn of Blackwater. He was there. He heard me, and he must've been the one to tell the King, my Lord."

Ludd glares at him for a moment, his chest heaving in his anger. Long moments stretched by. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the explosion. But instead, Ludd stood up from the table and began to pace around it, his hands behind his back.

"So if I'm getting this straight…" he says, his tone measured. "You decided to go out and run your drunken mouth about killing Arya Stark where anyone could've heard you. Where someone did hear you. And that someone told the King, and now the King has it in for us. Is that about right?"

Ronald swallowed. "Y-yes, my Lord."

To everyone's surprise, Ludd stops pacing and starts to laugh. Everyone exchanges uncertain glances as their Lord's laughter continues. Then they all start to awkwardly join in. No one is quite sure what is funny, but of Lord Frey decided something was funny, then everyone else had better damn well think it funny as well.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Ludd roars with laughter, clutching his large belly. "You must be the dumbest son of a bitch in the land!"

Ronald's laughter falters as everyone shoots smirks in his direction.

"But I know you weren't alone," Ludd finally says once he's done laughing. He's serious now. "No man drinks alone. Who else was with you?"

Ronald doesn't answer right away. Ludd pulls out a dagger from his belt and holds it to Ronald's jugular. "You answer me boy, or I'll bleed ya, right here at this table."

Ronald's adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. "Pipp and Weaver. They was with me, my Lord."

"That's a good lad," Ludd whispers, patting Ronald's cheek. He takes the blade from Ronald's throat, who visibly relaxes. "The three of you, stand."

Ronald exchanges a nervous glance with his two companions-Pipp, a pockmarked dark haired lad, and Weaver, a big boned lad with a bearded face. They looked as afraid as he felt.

"I said, STAND!" Ludd bellowed, and the three of them stumbled to their feet. Weaver knocked over his goblet with his belly.

"My Lord, we beg your forgiveness!" Pipp pleaded. "We was drunk, we didn't know what we were sayin!"

"Hence why we're in this shit of a mess!" Ludd held up the scroll from the King. "He wants me to punish you three. Tell me, how do you think I should punish you?"

They look at each other again. Ronald speaks, his voice unsteady. "I-I couldn't say, m-my Lord."

Ludd regards the three pathetic men for a moment. Then he says, "Go to Essos. Find the Stark girl. And kill her."

The three of them each looked shocked. Ronalds's eyes widen. Pipp's jaw drops. Weaver just looks confused.

It is Ronald who speaks. "My Lord?"

"And do not come back without her head," Ludd commands. "Do I make myself clear?"

The three of them exchange another glance, and then nod in unison. "It shall be done, my Lord."

"Get on with it then!"

They excuse themselves and hurry from the room, with everyone staring at Ludd in shock. Maester Elliot leans toward him cautiously. "Lord Frey, perhaps that was not wise...King Aegon made himself quite plain-"

"I'm well aware of what the fucking king said," Lord Frey cuts in. "He wants my men punished. Use your heads! Do you honestly think those three idiots will succeed? Either Essos will kill them, or Arya Stark will. Either way, they'll never return here."

Maester Elliot sees the truth in his words and nods. Ludd sits back down at the table and reaches for his ale. "Someone fetch that bloody servant. Tell him to clean this mess."

…

Essos-Island of Naath

The salty sea water lapped at Rhayana's bare feet where she stood, her toes sunken into the warm sand. The sky was clear, and a deep cerulean blue. The Gods had blessed them with another glorious day. Rhayana knelt down to sift through the sand, in search of more sea shells for the necklace she was crafting for Missandei.

It was nearly finished. She just needed to find the right one. Even though Queen Hestia was her mother, Rhayana had always thought of Missandei as more her mother than the queen. She was a very dear friend to her, and the island felt much less lonely with her around.

Even though Rhayana was surrounded by her sisters and the sky and the ocean, she still felt shut out from the rest of the world. Isolated. She had never been away from the island, it's all she's ever known. She knew there was more out there, because men from distant lands often dared to venture to their island, for one reason or another but mainly to conquer the beautiful women of Naath.

None of them ever succeeded.

Queen Hestia always told Rhayana that she needed to be protected from the rest of the world, that there was nothing but evil outside of their quaint, little island.

"The World is full of monsters, my dear," Hestia had told her when she was a young girl. "And I will protect you from them until the end of my days. Here on this island, you are safe. Here on this island, you have all you could ever need."

Rhayana believed the queen's words, she had seen just how evil the world can be. When the men that once lived here kept them all as slaves. Raped them, broke their souls. But it had been Hestia's dream to free them of that horror, and she did. Now they were free. And Rhayana realized just how lonely freedom could be.

"Ah, found you," Rhayana said to herself, picking up a beautiful molusk shell that had hues of blue and green, perfect for Missandei. Rhayana was just about to stand when something glinting in the sunlight caught her eye. It was a shade of periwinkle, partially exposed from beneath the sand. Another seashell?

Rhayana suddenly felt a strange pull from somewhere deep within her, and she couldn't explain it. But before she could give it another thought, she was digging. She brushed more sand off of it and paused, her breath hitching when she saw what looked like...scales. She resumed digging, her breath coming quicker now, heart pounding. Finally, she managed to unearth the strange thing and held it in her hands. Gods, it was heavy! And beautiful...it was the a mixture of soft periwinkle and deep molten brown, covered in scales.

An egg! But not just any egg...it was too large to be that of any bird that flew around these lands. Rhayana felt something strange stir within her as she gazed at the mysterious egg. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but she felt...joy. Warmth. Like she was meant to find it here buried in the sand on this lonely island. She also felt like she couldn't trust anyone to know she'd found it.

….

Winterfell-Godswood

Talia sat with her back against the weirwood as she had her eyes fixed on the book she was lost in. A tale about a mermaid who couldn't feel emotions until she met a land dweller. She fell in love with him. But couldn't be with him because she couldn't survive out of the sea. He would come out to the shore every day to see her, though they couldn't touch. One day, he stopped coming. And the mermaid was so enveloped with sadness that her heart froze. Her soul wanders the sea, calling out to her lost love.

Tale felt a tear sting her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. She wondered what love felt like. She knew her parents were in love. She could see that Sansa missed Gendry and waited for his return, hiding her anxiety from no one. Talia was young, but she was very perceptive for her age. She hoped her father would come home soon too. She already missed her sister. She knew Sansa missed her brother, Bran. She talked about him so much, and any time she did her eyes would glaze over and she'd have to excuse herself to attend to some duty she'd say. But Talia knew she was going to cry in private where no one could see. Even after all this time, her mother still grieved the brother she lost. All three of them, none which Talia had gotten the pleasure to meet. But she knew from stories of her uncles, that all three of them were brave, just like the wolves their House was known for.

Lost in her thoughts, Talia almost didn't notice that the wind had picked up. She closed her book and glanced up at the sky, her hair blowing around her face. Leaves the color of blood were falling from the weirwood she sat under, floating down around her as the wind blew.

She thought she felt a chilling presence. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. But it wasn't from the cold.

"Talia…"

Talia startled, looking around her with fear gripping her insides. The sound of her name had been faint, she wasn't even sure she heard it. It could've just been the wind. But as she kept looking in the distance she could've sworn she saw a glimpse of dark hair among the trees. Figuring it was her brother Ethan trying to scare her, she got up to her feet.

"Ethan, this isn't funny!" she cried out, irritated. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not going to work so just cut it out!"

No response met her words. Ethan and his childish games. She'd show him! She started to make her way toward the copse. She called out to him again, but there was still no response. She searched among the trees and brambles but saw nothing. If he was hiding and trying to scare her…

"Talia…"

She turned her head toward the voice, still faint but she was sure she had heard it that time.

"Ethan, come out!" she called to her brother. "I know it's you, cut this out at once!"

She felt something cold brush her neck from behind and fear made her body freeze. She dared to turn around, shivering, clutching her book like it was a weapon. But there was nothing-no one there.

Starting to feel genuinely afraid, Talia slowly started to back away into the clearing, her breathing ragged.

"Talia!" Ethan's clear voice rang out to her from the direction of the castle. She turned and saw her brother waving to her from far away. "Mother says to come in, supper's ready!"

Talia felt the cold chill of fear wrap around her as she realized whoever she saw in the trees couldn't have been Ethan. She looked once more behind her, and the wind seemed to settle once more.

….

Dinner didn't feel the same without Gendry and Mira at the table. Sansa kept casting looks at their empty chairs ever so often as she ate without saying much. Talia too was rather quiet, still shaken from whatever had just happened in the Godswood. Ryon still chattered on as usual, too young to be bothered by anything. Rodrick eased the mood by telling his hunting stories. Ethan however, could sense that something was bothering his twin.

He leaned toward her. "What's with you?" he murmured.

Talia shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "Nothing, just not really that hungry is all."

"You've barely touched anything on your plate, dear," Sansa says, overhearing them. "Are you ill?"

"No." Talia sets down her fork, her eyes still avoiding anyone's at the table. "May I be excused?"

Sansa nods, worried. But she will not press. "You may."

Talia gets up from the table and goes to her room. Sansa takes a sip of wine and allows herself to get lost in her thoughts again as the voices of her children chatter on. Her thoughts go to Gendry and Mira on the road to King's Landing. She hopes they get there safely without any more trouble.

A knock at the door stirs her, and all eyes go curiously to the door as it opens. Maester Frederick steps in, the chains on his robes rattling. "Lady Stark, a visitor."

Sansa quirks an eyebrow in curiosity. "Send them in."

Maester steps further into the room and gestures for someone to follow. Sansa's brow rises further as Ser Bronn of Blackwater walks in. Bronn was a good friend to Tyrion and Jaime, and had fought beside Gendry in the war for the dawn years ago. He was always welcome in Winterfell, though Sansa wondered as to why he was here.

"Lord Bronn," Sansa stands to greet him.

"My Lady," Bronn nods to her in respect and with a grin. "Though I must ask you not to call me 'Lord'. Just Bronn is fine with me."

"Of course," Sansa smiles at him. "Please, join us. You must have traveled far."

"Aye, I have." Bronn moves to sit down in one of the empty chairs. He speaks a greeting to Rodrick and Asher, who both shake his hand like brothers. "Hello, little Starks," Bronn says to Ryon and Ethan.

Sansa calls to her servant and asks him to serve Bronn some food and wine. She looks at him curiously. "What brings you to Winterfell?"

"Just passing through, actually," Bronn says, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in his wine. "On my way to the Wall, I am."

"The Wall?" Sansa repeats skeptically. "And why would you want to go there? It's empty."

"Is no one interested in history anymore?" Bronn shakes his head. "Just a destination I want to cross off my list is all. And I'm only happiest when I'm on the move. And I want to see if the stories are true."

"What stories?" Ethan asks.

"They say old Castle Black is haunted," Bronn says ominously, his dark eyes narrowed for effect. Ethan and Ryon gaze at him, and Sansa can tell they are hanging on his every word. She rolls her eyes. "The spirits of the men who died there still guard the castle, unable to move on. At night, you can hear them moaning."

"You're scaring them," Sansa scolds him.

"I'm not scared!" Ryon protests.

"Yes you are," Asher teases, nudging Ryon playfully.

"There's nothing there but a rotting castle and a mountain of ice," says Rodrick doubtfully. "You're wasting your time. I didn't take you for a man that believes in ghosts."

"After you've seen the things I've seen, that your mother has seen," Bronn glances at Sansa. "Then you'll believe anything."

No one could argue with that, not even Sansa. Who knew what kind of creatures still lurked beyond the Wall while they had all been so preoccupied with the white walkers? If ice zombies and dragons existed, what else was out there? What magic lie undiscovered in this world they thought they knew? Sansa had no interest in finding out. She was content where she was, with her children.

"You should come with me," Bronn says to Rodrick, taking a sip of wine.

"What for?" Rodrick questions. "To freeze to death?"

"Could always use an extra sword."

"Do you expect to run into trouble?" Sansa asks. "And you want to invite my son along for trouble?"

"No trouble if nothing there but an old abandoned castle," says Bronn, and he turns to Rodrick. "Besides, I know you like to hunt, and you're good at it. My men and I will be needing something to eat on the journey. Could really use your skill with a bow."

Rodrick seems interested now, and Sansa sighs. "It's too dangerous."

"I think I'm old enough to go as I please, mother," Rodrick tells her. His eyes soften, knowing how she worries. "I'll be fine."

Sansa doesn't see the point in arguing, she knows it would be no use.

"Asher, you're welcome to come along too," Bronn offers, and that's where Sansa draws the line.

"I don't think so!" she says sharply. "It's bad enough my husband is away, and you've already convinced Rodrick to go along with this nonsense. Someone needs to stay here and oversee Gendry's duties until he returns."

Bronn nods respectfully to Sansa. Asher seems surprised that she would leave him in charge, but knows she is just looking for an excuse to keep him in Winterfell. So he does not argue.

Bronn claps his hands together, a large grin on his face. "Brilliant! We leave at first light."

…

The next morning, Sansa wakes up and makes sure she is in the courtyard to see Rodrick off as he gets ready to set off with Ser Bronn to the Wall. She finds him saddling his horse and her eyes settle on his sword, its steel catching the sun's rays. She prays that he doesn't have to use it. She doesn't think she could bear it if something happened to him.

Bronn is also in the courtyard, talking with his men. Sansa does a head count. Ten of them. Enough to fend for themselves on the long, cold trek to the Wall and then to whatever mysteries lie beyond it?

Sansa approached Bronn, her hands clasped in front of her. "Do you have enough men? I could send some of mine with you."

Bronn gives her a knowing look. "I expect we have just what we need, my Lady. My men would kill for me, I will not ask that of yours."

Sansa shivers, and she knows it's not from the cold winds of the North. "If anything happens to my son…"

"I'll glady accept your wrath," Bronn says, fighting a smirk. He glances at Rodrick, sharpening his sword. "I've seen him fight. He's strong, and brave like his father."

"His father almost got himself killed on the way to King's Landing," Sansa says with ice in her voice. "Or hadn't you heard?"

"Aye, I heard," Bronn dips head to her. "A damn shame that happened. But he's still alive, isn't he?"

Sansa doesn't respond. She just lets out a shaky sigh as Rodrick starts to head toward them, leading his horse. "Just bring him back safely. Don't go looking for trouble."

"That's what I do best, my Lady," Bronn says, and this time he lets the smirk cross his lips. Sansa resists the urge to slap it off him. If he had a thirst for danger, that was his business. Why did he have to go and bring her eldest son into it as well? He was already reckless with his boar hunting...and Asher...he was worse. Which was why there had been no chance in hell of her allowing him to go. What was it about men always needing to go out and prove themselves?

Her mind briefly wandered to a man she hadn't thought of in years. A man she had vowed to never think of again. And yet his face still intruded in her nightmares, and now in her conscious thoughts for the first time in a while.

Ramsay Bolton. Once had been a Snow. He had been so desperate to prove he was more than a bastard that he'd been willing to kill and succumb to cruelty to do so. It had gotten even him killed in the end. Even in his death, a part of him still clung to the deepest, darkest parts of her.

"Mother, stop worrying," Rodrick breaks into her thoughts, and she sees that he is standing next to her. "You can't keep me here forever. Makes sense for me to see the world, if I am to be Lord of Winterfell one day."

Sansa smiles softly at him, and she resists touching his cheek and embarrassing him in front of Bronn. "I'll worry until I'm dead. Now go. Be careful."

Rodrick gives her a brief hug and mounts his horse. And Sansa watches another of her children leave Winterfell to venture out into whatever lies waiting.

A/N what do you guys think? Will Rhayana find out the truth about who she is? Are Jon Snow's worries about Daenerys justified? Will our beloved Sam find a way to destroy the God of Beasts? What will Bronn and Rodrick find beyond the Wall? Let me know your thoughts and thanks for reading:)