The Wars Yet To Come

by LottieDot

The Board had been altered, but the Game remained the same. When War ended and peace lay over the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar and Lyanna live and rule with Elia and raise their children. Now 20 years later it is the children of the players of the game that must learn how to play. Vows will be made, promises broken. We will all learn in the Game of Thrones you live or die.

9. Dark Memories, Dark Dreams

A:N It has been forever, I know. But I hope the size of this post makes up for some of it, it was 45 pages in a size eleven font, so in my mind thats a lot of story for you all :) And just a warning I haven't really edited it over as closely I should have. So beware of spelling and grammar mistakes! Other then that enjoy!

"Sister dear what may I ask is wrong?" Loras inquired to Margaery as they stood after the dancing had lulled at the feast and most of the guests had broken into small groups around the hall.

Margaery laughed and it was flat and hallows. She looked around and made sure that no one save her brother was near her. She had not enjoyed the night as she had expected to, or had been told she would by her grandmother and the supposed ally she had thought Arianne to be. Both had told her to make the prince Aegon think all rivals for his affection to look a fool in his eyes, but that plan had proven false. She had tried that by making a tray of wine fall on Myrcella Baratheon before the dancing took place. If anything, that action pushed Myrcella closer to the prince than anything did.

"I think I am done listening to fools." She said to him after a moment of reflection.

"Not all fools I hope." Loras said as he watched his lover across the hall.

"Only the fools who say I must play the game." She said as she took a free goblet of watered wine and sipped it slowly. She had made sure all her wine had been at half strength the whole evening. She had allowed her head to be clouded by words of others. She had not felt the need to confuse her mind more so by a strong drink.

"We all must play the game sister." Loras said with a solemnness he hardly ever voiced.

"Our circumstances differ brother." She reminded him. "I am nothing but a woman. In the things that matter, I still countless then you. Despite your efforts." She said dryly.

"Not if grandmother has her way." He replied just as dryly. "She wants to see me married just as much as you."

"But you have the protection of your sex. Despite the womanly display of strength that has been flaunted at this gathering I have not forgotten it is a man's world we live in. There is nothing for me but marriage and motherhood. All I am good for is to heir at the end of my life. You at least have the skill of battle and the lists to prove yourself." She sipped her wine and found it a sour cup to drink from.

"Sister dear that is because you drink from the wrong glass." Loras drank the rest of his cup and held it in the air for a waiting servant to replace. "You drink from the cup of ambition. You should drink from the glass of your own choice like I do."

"If we were not in this great gathering of perspective in laws I'd splash this glass across your face." She said with a smile while a servant with a tray walked near them. Loras chose a new cup and drank deeply from it.

"But my sister sweet you forget one thing. I am happy with the glass I chose. You are not." He drank deeply and left her to join Renly across the hall.

Margaery stood alone watching the room. Nothing of importance was happening. The only thing to note was that Lady Lysa had caused a scene a few moments ago, that caused the Lady Shrieen to leave the hall. She decided she too would leave; she risked her grandmother's wrath for leaving early.

Margaery left the hall walking in a direction she had not yet taken. She had memorized the path Sansa had shown them when they had been showed their rooms. She ignored that one and had taken another. She felt sadness at the thought of her earlier actions had pushed the other woman from her. Under different circumstances, the two might have been friends. She had honestly likes the Stark girl. If she had not had her grandmother, whispering in her head, things might have been different. Margaery was lost in thought, letting her feet take her where they wanted. She was not aware of where she was until she literally stumbled across a body lying on the ground.

"What on earth!" She shouted as she tripped having to catch herself on the wall. She looked down at the body and fell to her knees. "Lord Robert!"

Robin was shaking on the ground and she did not know what to do. She had never seen a fit like this before. She gathered him in her lap and held his body as he shook. She whispered words of comfort and tried to stroke his head.

"Robin! Baby where are you?" Lysa shouted down the corridor. Margaery felt the boy in her lap shudder a new. This shaking was for a different matter. She looked down at his face.

His face was whiter then parchment. His eyes were red rimmed and he seemed to have no energy.

"Lady Margaery, thank you for tending to me. I have never had a spell that ended so quickly." He said softly.

"You are welcome Lord Robert." She said sweetly.

"Can you help me to stand? I hear my mother approaching. I do not want her to find me this way." There was fear in his voice as the calling and footfalls came close.

Margaery stood and helped the unsteady boy to his feet. She still had no idea what had just happened but she felt strangely protective for the boy after what she had just seen. Having witnessed him mother's treatment of him at the feast and along the road she saw in him, everything she herself felt. His life was not his own to control either.

"Thank you again Lady Margaery." He whispered to her. She gave him a bright smile and he gave her a small one in return. That was when Lysa had discovered her son.

"Baby! There you are. I was so worried. I sent out men to search the castle for you." Lysa reached for him to clasp him to her chest. He somehow evaded her.

"I am fine mother. There is no need to treat me as a baby." He said.

"Robin, what has gotten in to you?" Lysa yelled as she tried once again to clutch him to her. "You are no longer allowed to spend time with those people anymore."

"Excuse me Lady Lysa, but I think your son is old enough to decide these things on his own. And his status in the world dictates he needs to be in the company of other lords. If we take all these things into account you have no saw in his life." Margaery said with a soft smile on her face.

The two people in the hall with her looked at her. Lysa face was matted in a collection of deep colors. She looked as if she would strike Margaery down for speaking out. Robin looked stunned and amazed yet thankful looking as he stood opened mouthed beside her.

"Who do you think you are girl?" Lysa demanded. "I am the Lady of the Vale. I have an entire army at my disposal. You have no right to stand in my way."

"Mother, please." Robin said.

"Shut your mouth child." Lysa screamed. "As for you little slut, you stay the hell away from my son. You will never get your claws into my son or his title."

"No. I can see you wish that all for yourself." Margaery said. She let all her anger fill her words and made her brave. She suspected that the woman before her was not right, her actions proved this. Margaery stood her ground and used her eyes to dare the older woman to hit her.

"You whore. I would watch myself if I were you. Things have happened to others who have tried tootsie my son from me." Lysa spoke with a coldness that sent a chill down Margaery spine. Lysa looked at her son one last time. "Heed me my sweet baby. You are nothing without me."

Lysa stormed out of the hall in a flurry of fabric. Robin leaned against the wall once she was gone. A sheen of sweat broke out over his brow. Margaery walked close to him and placed her hand on his forehead. She was worried about him. Margaery had never seen a person collapse and have a shaking fit that way before. She felt that she should go and find help, but was fearful to leave him.

"Are you feeling alright Lord Robert?" She asked as she handed him a handkerchief.

"I am doing alright now Lady Margaery. You may call me Robin. Robert is a name I do not feel fit to use. I would like to ask you to assist me to going to find either my uncle Edmure or my cousin Bran. They can help me." Robin, who had so bravely stood up to his mother was now looked like the child she professed him to be.

"Here, take my arm. We can walk together." She took his arm and placed it on hers. "This way if anyone finds us together you can say you are assisting me. This place is dreadfully confusing."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a very kind person?" Robin asked when they reached the bend in the corridor.

Margaery smiled. This young boy was refreshing after spending so much time with men who just wanted her to look pretty. Robin was someone she had helped. She had felt as if she was the knight protecting him from a foul creature. She rather liked that image.

"I have been told that a few times Lord Robin." They had made their way to a stairway and started to ascend to the next level.

"Lady Margaery can I ask you a question? I know we do not know each other, but I fear I have no one to ask. I have a feeling you know how to keep a person's confidence well."

"Ask away Lord Robin. Whatever I can do to help you I would like to try." She had a feeling he was going to ask her about how to deal with his mother.

"How would someone in my situation court a lady?" He looked at her eyes and she saw he was deadly serious. He elaborated his question. "You see I have been captivated by the charms of Lady Shrieen. She has a quiet demeanor but she also stood up to my mother as you did. I will admit I find that a very attractive thing. If I did not feel like I had no chance in winning your attention lady I would ask you to be my lady on the spot."

They both laughed as they walked to the Stark families' bedrooms. Neither of them knew which room was Brans but a passing servant informed him he was with his brother and many of the other guests still in the hall. Margaery smiled at the servant and asked if the girl would find either Lord Edmure or Bran and to point the direction to a place where she and Robin could sit and wait. Robin asked the woman for a cup of tea for himself and the lady as well. The woman rushed away to do their tasks. They walked to an alcove the woman had directed them to.

"So Robin tell me what you know about the lady who you fell in love with at first sight." Margaery asked as she settled her skirts around her. She was glad Winterfell was so warm. Otherwise, she would have frozen in her dress.

"I know she is kind and smart. She had a strength in her gaze that makes me lose my ability to speak. I do not think I have said this many words to her as I have with you. I just like her. She is easy to be around." Robin said as he fiddled with the linen square Margaery had given him. "How do I ask to see her more without making a fool of myself? I know you have brothers and one is married. I have been rather sheltered and know not the protocol in going about this."

"First of all just talk to her. You will never find out anything about her unless you ask her. Try with me. Ask me questions." She smiled at him, waiting for him to figure out what to ask. He finally settled on a question.

"How have you been enjoying the weather?"

"It is delightful to feel the chill on my cheeks, but I miss the warmth of the sun on my face. I love summer. Is this cold comfortable to you Lord Aryan?" She was amused he asked her about weather. Her grandmother had always told her if she could not think of questions to ask talk about the weather, fashion or just gossip if nothing else worked.

"We get our share of cold in the Vale. But it is caused by wind rather then true cold. I like this better. It does not cut to the bone as deeply. I am glad I am getting to travel before the long winter comes upon us." He said with a smile.

"I agree my lord. Travel is a gift. We are most fortunate to be able to do so. This trip will give me many tales to tell the children of Highgarden on my return home." She had given him enough information to be able to ask a better question of his own.

"You work with children in Highgarden?" He looked eager to have her answer him. He was giving her his full attention. She smiled at him.

"My grandmother made a children home for the poor orphans of Highgarden when my grandfather was alive. He spent so much time hunting she needed something to keep her busy. I have been helping there for three years now. The sweet little souls delight me and I feel as if my situation and money provides comfort to them. One of my dreams is to see such houses created in all the realms for lost children." She had given him information that was of both a personal matter and a well-known fact. It was a tidbit he could use to get to know her.

"That is very commendable." A servant brought them their tea and said Lord Edmure would be with them shortly.

"I was blessed to be born into a family that could care for me. We have more then enough to help those who are less fortunate then we are. Our families are tasked to protect and guide those who are below us. This is my contribution to it all. I only hope I will be able to find an understanding husband who will allow me continue my work with the poor children. We teach them to read and give them skills so they will not end up back in the gutters where they were left." She sipped her tea and was shocked with herself for admitting the bit about her fears regarding her nameless husband to this boy.

Robin surprised her, placed his hand on hers, and smiled warmly at her. She took this moment to look not at the sickly boy he was but to the man she could see him becoming. He might be handsome if he was allowed to gain weight and muscle. His eyes might clear if he was allowed outside. He was gentle and kind but there was determination in his eyes that looked new and had strong roots taking place. If he continued to get away from his mother, he would become a fine man someday. She smiled knowing that whomever he married when he became of age would need to thank her; despite she knew one conversation and lesson in talking to a woman was not much of a thing in a man's life, but to a woman these things mattered.

"I'm sure that no man will ever be able to stop you from doing something so dear to your heart." He let go of her hand and sat back looking at her. "How did I do Lady Margaery?"

She laughed and this made him look worried.

"You did rather well my lord. Once you figured out what you should do, you took to the conversation. It was very clever." She smiled at him and he blushed. "Now after you have talked to her and know more start to build on things you could do with her. Show her you enjoy the same things she does. Then when you feel as if you are in love ask her father for her hand. You should be able to wed the girl if you do form an attachment to her."

"And that's it? That's how you court a lady?" He asked.

"Of course! Didn't anyone tell you this?" She knew her family had showed both herself and her brothers how to court and be counted. It was shocking that this boy did not know these simple things.

"My mother has kept much from me." He admitted. "I finally understand how much under control I was." He looked truly sad now.

She placed her hand on his where it sat in his lap. She looked at him right in the eyes. She had been schooled for many years to always flatter and lie but with this scared young man she found herself speaking truths.

"Look here Robin. No matter what your mother has done up until now she probably only wanted to do what she felt was best for you. You are now Lord Aryan since your father's death. You must take up that mantel and take this opportunity to learn from the lords around you and from the King himself. Many of the men here knew your father well. Use them to grow." She smiled at him and he took her words to heart.

"Robin, I have only just been able to get away." Edmure said as he walked over to the alcove the two young people sat. He had not seen Margaery before he spoke. He took note of her hand on Robins and how she removed her hand and smiled at him.

"Lord Edmure, thank you for coming so quickly." Margery said. It had taken more than half an hour for him to come to them but he was here now. "I came across Lord Aryan in a state. I fended off his mother as well. He insisted on finding you."

"Is that true Robin? You had an episode?" Edmure demanded as he hunkered down to look closely at his nephew.

"Yes uncle. I think the excitement of the feast did indeed overwhelmed me." Robin admitted slowly.

"You will sleep in my chambers tonight." Edmure said seriously. "Thank you lady Margaery for your assistance of my nephew." He helped her to his feet and she was smiling sweetly at both men when they heard footsteps walking down the hall.

They looked around the corner of the alcove and saw Lady Asha stomping in the opposite direction to her chambers. The three looked at one another. It was a curious sight to see the lady stomping around the castle, but they all knew the men and women from the Iron Islands did things their way.

"Well I think I have had enough excitement for one night." She smiled at the two. "Lord Aryan it was lovely speaking to you. And if you have any more questions regarding the conversation we shared let me know." She smiled deeply as she walked away.

Margaery walked the same way that the pounding footfalls of lady Asha. She was not intending to follow her; it was just the fastest way back to her rooms. She heard a door slam and hurried away. She had no wish to intrude on another person's personal matters anymore the night.

Asha paced her chamber, her usual impatience and finding herself with nothing to do driving her to walk a groove into the stonework of her guest chamber. She had been impatient to leave the empty spectacle that was the opening feast. Once she had seen her brother downing tankard after tankard in what appeared to be an impromptu drinking contest with the legitimate prince, the golden haired pricks, the blonde Baratheon and the eldest Stark boy she knew she could safely leave. Her only family would be too sloshed to notice her leaving and there was no point in trying to play nice with the rest since the only one it was truly funny to get a rise out of was forced to escort his wizened yet sharp-tongued grandmother to her chamber for the night.

That mummer's outfit she had been forced to wear tonight was discarded on the floor and she was dressed once again as herself: the feel of leather breeches and a loose woolen tunic much more comfortable than those idiotic dresses the rest of these simpering ladies chose to wear. Now that she was, alone she thought of her father instructing her to find her a husband and Theon a bride. Before the uprising, he had always made it clear to her that she could take who she wished to her bed. But that when the time came, she would be expected to wed an Iron man and have strong Iron children. That had been before the sickness. Before the thralls. Before their history and traditions once again sought to make their lives harder. She sat down before the fire, absently glad for the warmth even though the halls and stone were not nearly as chilled as she had thought they might be in this place of frozen plains and colder attitudes. She let herself get lost in memory as she watched the flames twist over the wood.

It still rankled how quickly things had gone straight to shit after her father had called the Iron Fleet to gather, his conviction and his zeal apparent for even blind men to see.

"The time for waiting has come to an end brothers! The land has bled itself and we stayed apart from their foolish war, yet we are now paying the price in gold for their idiocy! I say no more! The time has come to raise our flags proudly so that those green landed lords who hide behind their stone walls may tremble before our strength once more!" Balon had shouted to all the men in attendance as he paced before the throne made from Nagga's bones.

His was face alive and bright with the strength of his belief. And considering how he still cut a powerful figure even if he was past his prime and had deliberately chosen to stand before one of the best symbols of Iron strength their islands possessed, it was no surprise that there was a roar of support from the gathered Iron Islanders. Aerion, her uncle who had become one of the most respected Drowned Men of the Drowned God, and Victarion, her uncle who had always been her father's most reliable adjutant. They had approved of his words and grinned in that way that her father had said could only come from knowing you sought to take from the world something which no gold nor barter could give: the iron will to make your own destiny.

"For too long we have been looked down upon! Disrespected! But I say no more!" He declared, right fist slamming downward into his cupped left hand to emphasize his point.

"The only ones we ever feared were the Targaryen's! And the only reason we feared them were their overgrown lizards! But where are their precious dragons now!" He cried. "Dead for years and torn to shreds by their own idiot masters who never understood that if you wish to kill a man, you don't rely on beasts or other men to do it: you trust only the blade wielded by your own hand!"

His right hand formed a fist over his heart.

"What is dead may never die!" He shouted to them all.

Led by her uncle Aerion, they chanted back to him, their voices shaking the rafters of the Bloody Keep section of Pyke's great-connected island keeps.

"BUT RISES AGAIN, HARDER AND STRONGER!" They echoed before the cheering became a deafening din. It was at that moment that they all knew the Iron Islands were united with them in common purpose.

Asha had stood beside her elder brothers and remembered the glow, the hunger for conquest in their eyes as they watched their father speak. She had felt her pride at being a Greyjoy swell, as she knew they all did. After the other captains and lords had left, she had asked her father to allow her to sail with her uncle Victarion. She had just turned fourteen and wanted to prove herself worthy of carrying on the Old Way of their people.

He had thought for a time about it before answering that she would be allowed to do so. And that if she proved her mettle that perhaps she would be thought of as a captain in a few years' time. Asha's eager grin had carried through the night as she dreamt of the day when she would have her own ship, be the captain and king of her own destiny. For while her brothers had never excluded her from their lessons, they'd always thought it hilarious to joke that it was cute how she was trying so hard to be like the real men. That one of these days, she would manage to grow her own cock if she just believed in herself enough. Their japes began losing their strength the day they discovered that she could tie the best knots out of all of them. She had fought her way into a position where she was no longer thought of as a mere woman, but as an equal.

The night before her father's fleet was to depart Asha walked down the halls of Pyke to do one final check that everything as in order. She went to the room her father called the Library. It held the books and scrolls of all the ships they had stolen over the years. It was a sad representation of what was out there in the world. Her mother's brother had a collection that was far more impressive. She secretly loved going to his keep and reading.

"Theon, what are you still doing awake at this hour?" She chided her brother.

"He is at his lessons. They lapsed since the readying of the fleet." A man replied from next to the fireplace. Asha scowled at him. She was suspicious of this man. He was a Thrall they had captured. He refused to tell them his name, but it was obvious he was educated. Instead of forcing him into the mines, which were proving to be more dangerous with each passing year her father had decided this man would educate his youngest son.

"He has no need for such idiotic things as to learn about the green lands laws and history. He knows all he needs to know. He knows how to pay the iron price to get what he wants." Asha sneered at him. He had thick chestnut colored hair and eyes the color of leaves in fall. If he were only stronger in the arms and back, Asha would have found him attractive.

"Every man needs to know his history." The thrall said. He walked closer to her and whispered so only she could hear. "I know your secret Asha. You read."

Asha glared at him and hater how her face darkened. She had hid her reading for many years. She was outraged that this man, this thrall, could find her out after she had taken great pains to hide this from her family.

"If you value your tongue I would not say that again if I were you." She hissed. "Theon. It is time for you to sleep. We sail at dawn."

"Asha I am not a simple child. I am a man, more so then you. You cannot order me around. Tell her Brown." Theon said looking at the thrall.

Asha spin and looked at the man. A sickly sweet smile bloomed on her face.

"So you have a name?" She asked.

"It is what the lad calls me." Brown said with a shrug.

"I had to name him something. There are too many thralls around me to call him that." Theon said. He yawned. "I hate you sometimes Asha." He walked out of the room and Asha assumed he was going to bed.

She waited for the thrall to leave the room so she could collect the scrolls on tides she had come to collect. She wanted to read it again so she could provide insight on the invasion. The man did not move but walked over to a shelf and plucked the very scroll she wanted and went to sit in front of the fire to read.

"Give me that Thrall. You have no business here without Theon. Go to your mat in the kitchen. You will be needed in the morning." She snapped.

"They won't be sailing tomorrow." Brown said as he opened the scroll.

"There is nothing that could stop us from launching. We will rain down on the lands of Lannister and Stark and bleed them dry." She said trying to sound like her father.

"There is a storm on its way. They will not sail." He looked at her. "You are quite pretty when you are angry, did you know that?"

"Fuck off you asswhipe. Get out of my sight you thrall." She demanded. He stood and passed her slowly. He made his way to the door and turned to look at her.

"I would give my teeth to have you in your bed this night. Give you a proper send off before you sail into battle." He never broke eye contact.

"Get the fuck out of my sight before I run you through." She pulled out the blade she always kept on her hip. It was more a short sword, but to most Iron Men it was a knife.

"I will come to you if you wish Asha." He left her then. She collected her scroll and stormed off to her room.

She lay in bed that night and her mood reflected the storm rolling outside her windows. She was unable to sleep. She tossed and turned all night. When she felt the hour of dawn was near, she dressed and left the room to find her father. She found him before the throne of bones.

"Daughter." He nodded curtly. She saw in that moments he was angry about something.

"Father. How goes the preparations?" She asked.

"We are fucked sister." Her oldest brother said walking in with their uncles. "Father we will be unable to depart this day. The storm is too harsh even for our ships and men to fight."

"The Drowned God must wish us to delay for some purpose we do not yet know." The drowned priest said. "I suggest we offer thrall's in tribute to appease him."

"Make it so. Go to the mines and gather fifty men and women to throw in the sea." Balon said. "We must sail." He pounded the arm of the chair.

"I will do your bidding father." The eldest child walked out of the room with their uncle to collect the thrall's to throw into the sea.

Asha walked out to look out the window. The rain was coming down so hard she could not see the fleet in the harbor. A throat was cleared behind her and she spun to see the thrall Brown standing behind her with a tankard of ale. He offered it to her.

"A drink for you my lady." Brown said with a smile.

"I want no drink from you." She said with scorn thick enough to cut with the blade hidden down her bodice. "I want to be left alone."

"But tonight is the salvation for the fleet. Fifty men and women are going to die tonight. Drink up." He shoved the tankard at her and she had to take it from him. The ale spilled down her shirt and she shoved the man away.

"You stupid fucker! How dare you." She yelled. She punched the man in the jaw and he sprawled down at her feet. "If you ever touch me again I will throw you off the cliffs myself."

Asha stormed out of the hall in a rage. She felt the eyes of the men in her father's court watching her. She had no idea what those men were thinking but she did not care. Asha slammed the door to her chamber and paced the room. She hated the mixed emotions that welled inside her in regards to the sacrifices that were being thrown into the sea. Yet at that moment, she wanted Brown to be among the victims. He had humiliated her in front of her father's men. She wanted someone to pay.

She walked to her dressing table threw the scroll she had been reading hard enough against the wall. It broke the scroll in two. She stopped her angry pacing to look at the broken scroll. It was the parchment she had gone to the library to find. She felt her rage slip away and she picked the scroll up and looked at the two pieces in her hand.

"You sure know how to destroy like the rest of your iron born brothers." Brown said from her doorway.

Asha spun around. Her anger roared back as she saw how he lounger against her door, as if he was master here.

"I told you to leave me alone." She growled as she walked over to him. She raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

"I may be a slave while I am here, but I am still a man. I'm trying things your way. I see what I want and I'm taking it." Brown locked his lips on hers. She wanted to fight him, force him away but she was shocked to find herself kissing him back.

He locked her door and walked them back until they fell to her bed. In a blur they were naked and beside each other. She felt him at her entrance and felt him push at her maidenhead. He paused and looked at her. He was about to ask a question but she just pulled him to her lips and kissed him again. He thrust in to her. She arched her back. It was a sharp pain, but she was used to it. Being iron born made she love pain. As he moved, the pain went away and pleasure engulfed her.

It felt like eternity and a second all at the same time. They moved together. Pleasure broke from her body with a scream. Brown growled in her ear as he found his release as well. They collapsed on her bed and caught their breath.

"Are you sure you are not Iron Born?" Asha laughed when she could talk at last.

"I'm sure. I'm a green land lover." He kissed brow.

They stayed together all night while the storm ridged outside. Asha let the thrall make love to her. He told her of his home in the green lands. Asha had never wanted to leave her home, she wanted to be the king of her own ship, but hearing the way Brown spoke made her want to see this place he spoke of.

"Maybe when I have my own ship I'll take you with me to be my salt wife." She mused as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I won't be here for that. I'll be back home." Brown said with confidence.

"How do you plan on doing that?" She demanded, making him look her in the eyes.

"The same way I got here. On a ship. I know my family is looking for me. I'll be freed." He shrugged. "You can come with me."

"Like hell. I am Iron Born. I have seawater in my veins and iron in my heart. I'm never leaving my home unless it is on my own ship." Asha said.

"We will talk later." Brown yawned. He pulled the blankets over them had kissed her once again. "We must sleep Iron princess. Tomorrow is a big day." She fell to sleep with him beside her. Never before had she slept so deeply.

When she awoke, Brown was gone from her bed. On her pillow, there was a note on it.

The storm still rages. Tomorrow it will break and you will sail. Tonight I will give you a proper send off before you sail to war.

Asha crumpled the page and threw it into the fire so no one would see the words. She dressed in the hope that they would sail that morning. Her sword knife on her hip, the small one between her breasts. Her ax at her back. She placed her warmest cloak around her shoulder and walked to the docks. The storm was still raging but there was a mass collection of people gathered at the docks.

"Still not launching today sis. But there is a ship right off our shore." Theon told her with excitement of youth.

The men brought the ship into the harbor. It was flying Lannister crimson. The men who had boarded the ship were shouting and waving something in the air. A shout of the word of gold rippled in the group and cheers went up all around. With the ship safe in port men rushed on boated to claim their gold. The crew was dragged out among jeering iron men. Asha stayed back and had a death grip on Theon's arm.

"Let me go Asha." Theon yelled. "I want my piece of the gold."

"No Theon. Look at the crew, look at those men. This is not good. They are sick." Asha watched as the crew walked to the keep. They were plastered in sweat and sickness. Blood wept out of their noses. They were passed along from Iron man to Iron man. She kept back. "Back to Pyke Theon."

"But I want to see!" Her brother shouted as she dragged him behind her.

"Fuck that idea out of your head. They carry plague!" She shouted over the wind. She had read the signs of it from her uncles' books. "I must warn father. We must kill them and burn the ship."

When she got to the throne room she tried to see her father, but he would not see her. He was to busy with battle plans and counting his new gold. Her uncles were no help either. They both were interrogating the crew. Her elder brothers were with her father. She was powerless to tell them what she knew.

She took Theon to his room and told a thrall to bar him inside. She did not want him to fall victim to plague. She barricaded herself in her room as well. The night wore on and then the first whispers of sickness stared to spread. Every man who had touched those men were becoming ill. The thrall's as well. Asha had ventured out of her room to learn what she could. The ship's crew were all dead. Her brothers and uncles were ill. Many of the thrall's as well, and most of the fleets' crew were sick. She ran back to Theon and would not allow anyone to come to them. They waited a week before venturing out of the room.

She was relieved to discover that the sickness had not been as devastating as she had first thought. Many were dead, but her father, brothers and uncles were spared. She sent a silent thanks to the Drowned God for his favor. She went to her father.

"You were spared." Balon said in a daze.

"Yes father, I took myself a d Theon into his rooms until just today." She said.

He looked at her with a faraway gaze. He saw her but could not see her.

"My fleet is lost." He whispered. "The Drowned god abandoned us the day before I showed the green lords the might of the Iron Born." He murdered as he looked over lists. She looked at what he was seeing.

On the scroll names were listed. Many of them said dead. Men she had known since childhood were listed. Half the men were either dead or too weak to sail.

"When they are well we can sail father." She said with fierce determination on her voice. "Once my brothers are well we can sail."

"Yes. When my sons are well." He muttered as he looked at the lists.

Asha left him. She made her way down to the kitchens she was taken aback at how few thralls were about. For the first time in a week, she thought of Brown. She searched for him. He was there alive.

"Asha." He said when he saw her. He pulled her into his arms. He kissed her brow.

"Brown." She sighed into his chest. "I just saw the list of the dead. How bad was it in the kitchen?"

"Almost all are dead. I locked myself in the wine cellar. I hope are that almost all in the mines have perished as well." He told her. Asha shivered as she thought of all the souls that were no longer alive.

"If they had not been so greedy these people would still be alive." She said.

"I thought that they were just thralls to you?" He asked.

"They were, but now that they are dead I can't think that way." Asha admitted. He held her tighter to him.

"You are a strange character Asha Greyjoy." Brown said with a bitter laugh.

"I have to get back upstairs to Theon." She said to him. She left Brown and took stake bread a d hard cheese back to her brother.

They stayed in his room one more night. While they slept that night, a revolt had started in the mines. The surviving thrall's were fighting the remaining men. Asha woke to fighting in the halls. The revolt had spread to the castle. Once again, she locked her brother his room. She raced to the fighting. The worst of it was at her brothers' sick room. Twenty thralls, men and women both were trying to enter the room.

She shouted and pulled her sword free a d waded over to the mass of people. There was anger and resentment in their gaze as they turned on her. She cut her way to the door if her brothers room. She emptied the lifeblood of many thrall's. They backed away once half of the thrall's were littering the floor. She went into the room and stopped frozen.

Her brothers were in pieces on their bed. She fought not to vomit when she saw what was left of them. Gore was spattered all over the walls. One of her brothers heads was almost completely hacked off his shoulders, the other was sliced opened from groin to throat.

She stumbled back and slipped on a pool of blood from the thrall's she had killed. She landed hard in the cooling blood and vomited. Her head swam and she heard a scream as more men and women were cut down. The sounds of fighting rang in her ears. She did not know how long she sat there. The rebellion was squished three hours later.

Both her brothers were dead. Theon was still alive, as were her uncles and father. The revolt had not spread tithe other islands but word came that the plague had. Death was all around them. On the third day, after the aftermath of the revolt was cleaned up she was told a sickening truth. Brown was the one who had started the Pyke revolt.

Her father was in shock. The news of his sons' deaths had driven him into a deep depression. He did not eat; he just sat next to the corpses of the dead men. A week after the revolt was over on Pyke news of another broke out on the other islands. The fighting was fierce. The men who had survived the plague now were armed and told to fight the thrall's.

The battles lasted for two years. They had no rest. The rebel thrall's were never caught. For months after the first revolt, Asha found herself once again fighting. Her fifteenth name day and come and gone. By her sixteenth name day, she had seen more blood and death that she cared to see. Once again a band of outlaw thrall's were attacking once again. Theon had demanded he come along this time and her uncles said he could learn something. She told him to stick with her. The two rode through the crowds of men who were only armed tithe pickaxes and shovels.

She was lost in the killing. She fought, sliced, and killed, but there was no joy as she had expected there to be. Her father had once told her the Iron Men grew stronger with every death they made in the name of the drowned god. She felt nothing.

She had cleared the thrall's in her path and paused to breath. The she saw him, the leader of the uprising. Brown stood with a sword in her uncles' heart and an ax in the others head. He had killed them both. H looked at her then and took up a forgotten sword from the blood soaked ground. He came to her with dead eyes.

Asha held her ax in one hand and her sword in the other. He walked to her. Theon ran at Brown shouting cursed at the man who was once his teacher. Brown let his eyes flick to the boy. Theon was inches from him. Asha screamed for Theon to stop. She ran as fast as she could. She was less then five feet from her brother when she saw a flash of steal and Theon went down.

Asha froze. Theon lay on the ground. She had not let the anger of everything that had happened enter her mind, but now seeing Theon on the ground, she let her anger escape her. She screamed and ran at him. Her sod met his. She let her anger fuel her. She turned the rage into her arm. They fought hard. Never in her life had she felt the need to kill.

"I will kill you for this." Asha screamed in the man's face.

"You will never kill me Asha. I took something from you." Brown screamed back.

He taunted her with his words. With the way he looked at her. He was laughing at her. He was not even fighting hard. She swung the ax at him and he moved quickly away. He took the opportunity and slashed her with his sword. Her ax arm went numb. She dropped her weapon into the mud. He stepped back.

"Asha do not make me kill you. All I wanted was to be free. I never meant for this all to happen." He said as they circled.

"Then why did you stay?" She yelled.

"I wanted you to come away with me." He told her ae they tested each other's guard.

"I would never go with you. Because of you, my brothers were slaughtered. You just murdered my uncles and my father is now mad. And Theon, your hand killed my last brother." She yelled. She lunged at him. He was not ready for her thrust and her sword pierced his heart.

"Asha." He said as blood slipped from his lips. "I love." She thrust the sword deeper into him.

"Fuck you." She whispered in his ear as she pulled the knife out of his chest.

They both collapsed in the bloody mud of the battlefield. She felt the wound in her arm bleeding. She lay in a pool of blood. The sky turned from blue to grey. Rain started to fall. Asha felt her face grow moist. Her tears started to fall just before the rains started.

"Asha!" A weak voice called. She sat up slowly. Then she saw Theon, searching the bodies for her. He was alive. Relief shot through her body.

"Theon!" Ashe yelled. He came to her and they embraced. The Greyjoy's were not an affectionate family, but in that moment, the two held onto each other surrounded by dead bodies.

They made their way to Pyke and their father and reported the deaths of his brothers as well as the leader of the revolt. In the two years of fighting many of the men had died. A scant few left could fight or fish, let alone raid. Six months after the final battle Asha was with her father before the throne of bones. He had just given her the Captain position she had always wanted, but for a fishing vessel not a raiding ship.

"Thank you father." She said softly.

He grunted and looked down at the table that still held the plans for the invasion that would never happen. He had ignored the islands for the most part since the revolt was stopped. Asha and Theon together tried to run things but they had limited resources. Asha took a step closer to him.

"Father. We need help. The people are suffering because there are not enough men left now. I think perhaps we should ask for aide from the green lords." She said softly.

He spun and grabbed her throat. He breathed rancid breath in her face. "What are our words Asha! Tell me what our words are!" Balon had angrily demanded. In the six months he had clung to the hope that they could still be iron men. He had sent the few ships they had to raid the shipping lines but they were not enough to supply the people of the Iron Islands.

"We. Do. Not. Sow." She croaked. His hands left her left her neck. "But father this is not working. We cannot do this anymore. We cannot stick with the Old Ways." She said.

"Our salvation lies upon the sea. We will provide for ourselves as we always have-" Balon had begun before Asha had interrupted him.

"What do you imagine we have been doing these months and weeks father? That we have sat on our decks with our thumbs lodged firmly in our own arses!" She hissed sarcastically. "We haven't the men to reap and ravage as we wish! Much as it galls me to suggest it, we need crops as well."

"It has been tried time and again Asha." He rebuked her. Through her uncle Rodrick's study they were both well aware of how many times crops had been attempted on Pyke and the rest of the islands only to fail because the soil and the sea and the wind itself worked against them in one regard even if it didn't in another. "We followed the Old Way for a reason. When we forgot it and sought to become like those green lords, we were forced to bend the knee to the dragons. We cannot return to that. Not when we were so close to being as we were always meant to be."

"I know." She concurred sadly. "But as it stands our choices are to live upon our knees or die standing. And I for one am not willing to test whether the Drowned God will allow us to rise if our knees cannot catch the wind."

She knew the Iron Islands would be on their own in this matter. Not only because the other kingdoms might seek to take advantage of their weakened state, but also because they would claim that by practicing their thralldom traditions they had set themselves up for this and so deserved what had happened to them. But that did not matter now. What mattered was seeking to have a girl willing to take the Greyjoy name for her brother. And possibly, she had to swallow her revulsion at this idea, find a green boy who could be used. Used because no boy who pissed grass seed could be truly trusted.

Her frustration boiled over, causing her to pick up a book and throw it at the wall. It gave a dull thud as it hit the wall. It just was not the same as when a knife drove through armor to strike at the man beneath. Far too tame in comparison. There was a knock on her door and her only brother walked in the room.

"I heard a strange sound and wanted to make sure you weren't trying to steal some poor green dolt's maidenhood." Theon drawled as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

"And which one of the grass blooded pricks might I find worth riding?" She muttered sarcastically.

"Renly Baratheon seemed to crave your company all night. I would have guessed you'd have mounted him and see whether you need horsemanship lessons." Theon said yawning.

Asha snorted at that. She felt her scowl turn into a smile. He returned the smile and they both broke into laughter, the very idea of someone as mincing and theatrical as Renly Baratheon in bed a laugh inducing thought.

"Damn it Theon. How can you always find a way to make me laugh?" She asked.

"The gift of a silver tongue rather than an iron one sweet sister." Theon quipped as he came deeper into the room. He stood before his sister and she raised her eyes to look at him.

"Careful now baby brother. If you don't watch yourself, these up jumped jackasses will get the idea we're taking after the Targaryen's." She warned in good humor.

"You wouldn't know how to handle me even if I chose to peruse you." Theon remarked idly, a playful smirk on his face.

"Fortunately for you, I have done already found a wife that would satisfy my bed." He continued.

"Oh?" Asha said. She turned from him and saw a bottle of wine in the side table. She walked over and poured herself a glass. She took a sip, trying not to wince at the cloying sweetness of the drink. She was more used to bitter drinks that had far more kick to them than this fruit flavored water. She suspected what Theon's answer would be but wanted to hear it from his own lips.

"I would seek the hand of Sansa Stark." He said, a small spinning gesture of his right hand telling her to get it out of her system now.

Asha drank the rest of her goblet and really looked at her brother. He was a man grown now, having recently been on some raids in the Narrow Sea before this grand marriage council had been called. She had known she would have to figure out a way to talk House Stark into giving one of their daughters to the Iron Islands. Personally, she felt she would have better luck convincing a shark to graze on wheat, but this was her brother's decision and he would need her support in it.

"That's no small feat you seek to accomplish Theon. Have you perhaps grown into a soft-hearted romantic in your old age?" She queried in mock concern, the real question in her mind being whether he understood what the reason for them doing this was.

"Consider your point made Asha." Theon answered with his usual half-smirk. He stood and began retreating to his room.

"And remember we don't share Iron business with grass grazers. Not even the ones with nice tits!" She called after him.

He simply waved his right hand dismissively as he walked away. She knew he would never actually say anything. At least she hoped not. Though considering some of the things he had done to sample a woman's flesh, maybe she should keep a closer eye on him just in case.

He shut the door behind him, leaving Asha alone with her thoughts again. As she lay upon the too soft mattress, she could almost imagine she was upon the Sea Bitch again and free again. But she was not anymore. To ensure her people's future freedom, it looked as though she would need to sacrifice her own freedom and happiness. She knew it was the right thing to do. She knew it had to be done. But it did not change that she had tasted what life could offer someone like her when she was untethered by restrictions placed by the ignorant. And it didn't ease the ache in her heart when she thought of how all her hard work had led to her being a sacrificial lamb, something to be placed on an altar of marriage and killed so that others might live.

As she turned over in her bed and her eyes caught the moonlight outside, she could not help the thought that crossed her mind.

'What good is the power to make your own choices when no choice can make you happy?'

She heard footsteps outside her room and walked to the door to see who was rushing past her room. She saw Arya Stark running down the hallway as if a kraken was after her.

Seeking the only place in her home that was truly her own Arya had fled the Great Hall for the sanctuary of her workroom. None of the guests knew where this room was located and that stupid man could not find her here to make her feel a fool again. She let the dress coat fall to the stone floor as she took it off. She left it in a crumpled heap next to the door. She walked to her stool and started to unlace the boots she wore that rode well above the knee. She had killed the stag that had made the leather for her boots herself. She toyed with the idea of telling that to the stupid Stag man of her prowlers at killing stags. She threw the boots over shoulder once she wrestled them off.

Calmer now that she was herself again she turned and looked at her tapestry. She had wanted to present it to her aunt as a gift. Something she could take back to King's Landing. A piece of Winterfell that would be with her always. Now she decided it would be for Jon. It was a scene of the Gods wood with in Winterfell. In the center stood the Weirwood tree. She had spent many hours looking into the old face to memorize it so she could replicate it in her work, and she felt that she had. Arya had worked for hours to find a dye the right shades of blood red and bone white to create the tree.

Around the base and in the forest around the tree there were wolves prowling. Six wolves captured in frozen motion. One wolf, a grey beast with yellow eyes watched it all at the foot of the tree. He was the eldest, the one who watched out for the pack. He was the alpha, with the pack but above the games. Sitting next to him was a wolf who was a smaller softer wolf, also grey with yellow eyes. She sat with a regal dignity that was startling human. One wolf was emerging from the pool at the base of the tree. He was jet black with deep green eyes. He was the most feral of the six. He was watching the alpha and the lady, as if he was checking to make sure they were not noticing him doing something he should not be doing. A silver wolf was laying on a low branch of a tree. He was watching the forest, alert. He had an air about him of weariness. The wolf Arya had agonized making just right stood off to the left of the pack. She was dark grey, almost black with golden eyes. She looked as if she was about to run away, but as she looked over her shoulder at the one who was different them the others. She looked as if she was asking him to go with her, start a new pack. This wolf was different from the rest. He was bigger then the others. Its fur was snow white and his eyes were red. He was looking at the golden-eyed wolf with a wrinkle on his brow.

Arya had almost finished it. She sat looking at the picture and a part of her was sad to give it away, but Jon was pack, they were family. He was a wolf who only had his mother around him. Arya knew that when he departed for the capitol he would hunger for the comfort of pack.

She had watched the way he and his siblings had interacted. They were close; there was no denying that fact. They were as close as she and her brothers and sister. Nevertheless, there was a stillness in the Targaryen's affections that the Starks did not possess. Yes, they disagreed sometimes, but if she ever killed a person, she would go to Sansa to dispose of the body so she would not be caught. Arya had watched enough to know it all came from the first queen. Elia disliked Jon. This made her children pause before displaying total opened love for Jon. This was why she decided to give him this gift. As a reminder that despite him being a prince, he always had a pack who accepted him as his own person.

She had just threaded the next row into her loom when her workshop door boomed opened. Arya spun around to face the intruder with a naked blade in her left hand. Rickon stood in her doorway looking angry and confused. She sheathed the blade in her leg sheath that was strapped to her calf.

"Rickon what are you doing in my workroom?" She demanded.

"I had to escape." He closed the door and leaned his back agonist it. "I think I did something utterly stupid Arya."

She looked at her disheveled handsome baby brother. Then she remembered he would not be the baby for much longer. She felt the string of guilt at the thought. She was excited for her soon to arrive baby sibling but knew of Rickson's resentment to the unborn child.

There was straw in his clothing and his hair was mussed. He had red wine on his tunic and grease on his pants. He never remembered to use a lignin napkin while eating. She took his appearance all in then zeroed in on his slightly swollen lips.

"Rick, what the hell did you do?" Fear and horror flashed across her face. She remembered herself walking into this very workroom with her own lips swollen, uttering the same words to Sansa.

Without her wanting them to the memories flared in her mind. It was probably the wine and her flirting with the men at the feast that made her remember the one time she had been well and truly kissed and what happened directly afterwards.

She had been fourteen and had finally won a victory with her mother. She was finally free from daily lessons with Septa Modena. She only had to go once a week. She had run head long down the stairs on her way to the practice yard when she collided into the chest of her father's ward.

"Arya!" He had yelled when they finally regained their breath from the tumble down the stairs. "I just heard! You get to take proper sword lessons with us now?"

"Yes Dom. I get to fight you in the opened." She smiled at her dearest friend in the world.

"Finally!" He whooped and helped her stand. "I no longer have to lie to your lord father as to where my black eyes and split lips come from."

"Our story of them coming from your man servant were rather convincing." Arya said to him.

"Please don't call him that. We both know he is my half-brother." Domeric Bolton said scowling.

"The bastard is a creepy fucker who harassers the maids and scares even father." Arya shot back looking up into Dom eyes. He was four years older then she, yet they were closer then anyone would have expected.

"Arya." He said in warning.

It all started on their first meeting. It was Arya's fourth name day and they were holding a Festival. Good Northern men might not enjoy tournaments but festivals were different. It was a gathering of all the people of the North to come together. She had been standing with her father in place of honor when Roose Bolton had approached with his son in tow.

"Lord Stark, I've come to ask that boon you offered me four years ago." Lord Bolton had said. Her father just nodded his head for his friend to continue. "I would request that you foster my heir, so he learns the proper way to be a Lord of the North."

Her father had looked at the boy. He was tall and thin. His hair was a light brown and his eyes were the pale blue of his fathers. Arya just looked at him. She spoke with the words of a four year old.

"Why do we need him? He's just another boy." She said.

"Arya!" Her mother had said shocked.

"What? We already have three boys here. Why can't we have another girl? That would be even." She huffed.

"It is our duty Little Wolf." Ned said with a smirk on his face as he got down to her eye level to talk to her. "I am the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell. When one of my banner men comes to me, I must do everything in my powers to help them. Now why don't you introduce yourself to Domenic?"

"Nicely Arya." Her mother added as her father pushed her to the boy.

"I'm Arya. What do they call you?" She asked.

"Dom. My name is Domenic but I prefer Dom." He said with a smile on his face.

"Do you like horses back riding?" She had demanded.

"I do. My father just got me my own horse." He had said with pride. He was six and stood tall as he spoke.

"Lucky. I'm stuck with a pony, and mother makes me ride sideways 'like a proper lady'." She mimicked in her mother's tone.

Dom laughed and leaned to talk into her ear.

"When I come to Winterfell I'll teach you to ride like a man." He pulled back and winked at her. From that moment on they were never apart.

Then when Arya was ten years, old the Bolton Bastard had come to Winterfell as Dom's servant. The castle was all a twitter with gossip. Dom had tried to defend his half-brother when anyone spoke ill of him due to his birth. Arya could respect that, but despite what Dom said, she never liked Ramsey Snow.

"I know, he is your blood. I should be nice to him." She said as she always did when he got ready to lecture her about his brother. "But Lolly from the kitchen said he tried something with her. If it hadn't been for the cooks," she broke off. This was not the first time that Ramsey Snow had acted up. She and Dom had come across him three times in the woods playing with dead animals. He was a creep and nothing Dom said would change her mind.

"Alright. Let's talk about other things." Dom rushed on, not wanting to fight with her.

"Like what?" She asked as they started walking to the yard.

"Like how you are going to beat the snot out of your brothers with a sword." Dom said with a laugh.

"And how surprised they are going to be." She said as she linked her arm with his. They laughed as they watched the sword play in the yard below them.

Her brothers were going through drill with their fathers master at arms. Robb was good, but he was sloppy, Bran only did what he needed to not more to make him great. And Rickon was to wild. He would hack and slash for no reason.

"You are better then them all Arry." He said, using his special name for her.

"That's because I had a good partner." She said, bumping her shoulder into his.

"Well I agree on that point." Dom said smiling.

They watched and commented about the way the boys fought. She could not wait to show them what she could do. After the swords were done, the two went to the stables for their usual ride. The two usually visited the farms closest to Winterfell every day, no matter the weather. Arya grumbled that her father's words of taking care of their people rang in her ears every time she left the castle. Sansa had once told her she took the duty to seriously. No one knew that half the time she and Dom were at work with swords.

"You know I think you should ask your father to bring you a Water Dancer to teach you swords." Dom said as they rode that day.

"Wart Dancing? The Bravos style of sword play?" She asked. She remembered Bran mentioning it once. But he often spoke of things she did not pay attention to.

"Yes. It is better for lean fighters. The great sword is good for hacking, but a Water Dancers sword is better for someone with your body." He said and Arya blushed at the way he looked at her in that moment.

"My body will work for any sword." She said and kicked her horse into a gallop. For the past few weeks, she had stopped thinking of Dom as just a friend but as something more. He was her closest friend, the one she went to when her sister and her fried ds were cruel to her. She and Sansa usually got along fine, but put her in a room with Jayne Poole and she was mean. She had run to him when they had been their meanest and wept on his shoulder. She refused to tell him what had caused her to be so upset.

Jayne Poole had said the only reason Dom tolerated her was because she was a Stark and his father told him to. He did not really like her. Ramsey had said so and he was Dom's servant, so he knew what he was talking about. When Dom demanded to know all she said was that Jayne Pool was a bitch. After that, Dom glared at the girl whenever she was around him.

They rode to the small village and handed out the goods she had made on her loom for the village children and rode back to Winterfell. The next day she was allowed to her first lesson in the yard with the boys. She beat them all.

Her father had been watching and called her over when she was done making his sons look like fools.

"Child of mine, where did you learn all this?" He asked smiling at her. She risked a glance in Dom's direction. "Now I understand." His lips twitched. "Well if you are this good I think Sansa must be taught as well." He walked away to tell her sister his decision.

Every day she would work with the boys and twice a week Sansa would as well. Sansa was not good with a sword, but she was good with a bow, shocking everyone. It was three months into her sword play training when her father walked over to her with a small balding man behind him. He smiled at her and she stopped her lesson.

"Arya I would like to introduce you to Master Forel. He is a Water Dancer who is to teach you." Her father had said. She stood with wide eyes and looked for Dom. He was leaning on his sword smiling. He had talked to her father about this, she knew. She shook her head and looked at her new master.

After her lessons, she stormed to his rooms and banged the door wide opened. He was sitting at his desk writing a letter. He stood when she entered, a smile on his face.

"You had no right to talk to my father about getting me a Water Dancer!" She yelled. "I don't care that he is the former sword of Bravos. You had no right."

"Arya I did what I thought best for you. You are strong but working with the great sword was taking its toll on you. I don't like seeing you suffer Arya." He said with such charity in his voice Arya could not stay mad at him.

"Fine. I will let you win this one, but I still do not like it. Now I owe you something." She said as she sat on his bed.

"No you don't. This was my name day gift to you." Dom said with a smirk.

"My name day is six months away." She said smirking back at him.

"Well then this was my name day gift to me. It is next week after all. I'm going to be sixteen then." He puffed his chest out as he spoke.

"That mea s you'll be leaving for the Dreadfort soon." She scowled. They looked at each other and so many things were left unsaid between them. "And this can't be your gift. I have to get you something."

"Arya I want nothing from you." He said quietly.

"Why not?" She demanded.

"Because. You have already given me the best gift I could ask for." He walked over to her and stood almost touching her. "You have given me everything by being my friend." He reached out and placed his hand on her cheek. Arya's heart beat fast at his touch. He was looking down at her and she saw him leaning down. Arya froze as his face came closer to hers. For a moment all he did was look into her eyes.

He closed the gap and his lips pressed to hers. Arya had never been kissed before. It was nothing like the other girls said it would be. They felt like they matched, like he was something she was supposed to have. It was a soft kiss, and he started to pull away. She felt a need to keep him where he was so she grabbed his tunic and pulled him down to her. They fell back and his mouth did not leave her. He opened his mouth and she did the same.

This time it was a deeper kiss, hungrier then before. Their mouths worked at one another and she felt things she never would have expected to for her friend. She felt what she could only call desire flood her. She kissed him and then felt his hand go to her breast. Her eyes shot opened. He was kissing her with his eyes closed and she suddenly realized what it was she was doing. She turned her head away and gasped for air. She opened her mouth to speak but his lips brushed her throat. She stopped thinking. He trailed kissed on her neck; his hand that was not massaging her breast was tangled in her hair. Against her will, she moaned. He lifted his head and looked down at her.

"You have no idea how long I wanted to kiss you like that." He told her. Despite the panic, she felt she smiled at him. She was starting to pull him back down to her when his bedchamber door opened and Ramsey Snow walked in.

"What is going on here?" Ramsey asked, his eyes glittering as he licked his fist lips.

Dom stood as fast as he could and Arya sat up, straightening her tunic as she did. Neither spoke as they looked at the bastard Bolton. Dom took a step closer to his bastard brother.

"Ramsey I swear this was not what it looked like."

"You don't know what I think this looks like." Ramsey said with a large smile forming on his wormy lips. "What do you think Lord Stark would say if he found out his fostering was found out kissing his beloved 'Little Wolf'?"

"You wouldn't." Dom said, his face going pale.

"Really?" Ramsey asked as he walked into the room, shutting the door. Arya stood and walked to stand beside Dom.

"If you tell anyone what you just saw I will cut you down." Arya threatened. She took a blade from her boot and held it easily in her hand.

"You think I am afraid of you and that knife!" Ramsey laughed at her. "I have seen worse things then that small knife you have there girl."

"Back off Ramsey." Dom said, moving in front of Arya. "This has nothing to do with you."

"That is where you are wrong. Father would be delighted to hear about this. Who knows after I tell him I might even be legitimized." Ramsey said looking pleased.

"That will never happen." Dom growled.

"Maybe, maybe not?" Ramsey just smirked. "What are you willing to give me for not telling anyone?"

"Nothing." Arya said.

"What do you want?" Dom asked.

"I want to train with everyone else." Ramsey said lazily.

"Done." Dom said. "Now get out."

Ramsey looked at Arya then and his eyes looked her over, from her toes to her face. She felt her skin shiver as he looked. He left them and she was left alone with Dom. She looked anywhere but at him.

"Arry. Look at me." He demanded. He rarely demanded anything of her so she did what he said. "Arya I'm sorry about my brother. If he would not have walked in, we could have talked. I would have told you that I have wanted to kiss you for so long." He reached for her and she took a step back.

"Dom I don't want things to change." Arya had said.

"They won't." He smiled at her.

"They already have." She bolted out the door and ran to her workroom. Sansa was sewing by the window and jumped when she saw Arya's flushed face.

"Gods Arya! What's wrong?" Sansa set down her sewing and went to her sister. She placed her hands on Arya's shoulders. "Arya you are shaking. What happened?"

"I really messed up Sansa."

Arya looked into her sister's eyes and did not know what to say. She was embarrassed about what had happened, but Sansa had been kissed once before. Maybe she could help her with this.

"Dom. He." Arya could not finish.

"He finally kissed you?" Sansa asked. Arya felt her mouth fall opened.

"How did you know?" Arya asked.

"He is in love with you Arya." Sansa said matter of factly. "Everyone knows it, except you, from the way you are looking at me."

"That's not true! We are friends, best friends. I would have known if he was in love with me." Arya said as she collapsed on her stool.

"He is in love with you. Do you know how I know?" Sansa asked. She was such a gossip. Arya shook her head. "Last year on his fifteenth name day his father wanted him to come home to the Dreadfort and he refused. Because of you. I overheard father telling mother that right after."

"He loves me?" Arya asked in shock.

"Yes. Next week when he is sixteen, I believe he is going to ask father for your hand. It will be your choice, but he will ask, count on that."

Arya was too shocked for words. Dom, her Dom loved her. He was like a brother to her, closer then a brother. He could not change their relationship like this. Not without her knowing. For the next week sue avoided him. She went on her daily rides alone, worked only with her Dancing Master. She spent all her time at the loom when she was not needed elsewhere.

It was the day before his name day and she was at her loom. She was lost in thought. She did not notice the slip of paper under her door until she was ready to walk to her chamber for sleep. She leaned down and knew who it was from despite the fact that it was not signed. She knew his pen style as well as her own.

You cannot avoid me forever Arya. Tomorrow is my name day. I will be leaving day after tomorrow. I need to see you alone. Meet me under the wire wood tree in the woods. We have to talk.

Arya crumpled the paper. She knew she had to see him. He was her friend. She went to bed thinking of her friend and realized she missed him. So the next day she woke him by throwing a snowball, the first of the season, at him as he slept. He sputtered awake.

"Rise and shine!" She crowed. "It's your name day!"

"Arya. You are talking to me. This is the best gift." He said shaking the snow from his hair.

"Well I figured I should forget everything and remember you are just Dom, my friend." She smiled at him. "Come on, get up, and get dressed. We only have one day together."

Dom laughed as she left his room to let him dress. She waited for him. When he did, they walked together to the family dining room for breakfast. Dom was met with embraces from the Stark family. Her mother doted on him like a fourth son, her father as well.

"Sixteen. How kick a." Rickon started to say.

"Yes, sixteen. Cook has been preparing your favorites for dinner tonight. We got a raven yesterday saying your father would be with us tomorrow." Catelyn said.

"I wish he wouldn't." She heard Dom mutter. She winked at him. She alone knew he had no love for his father. On his week visit every year, he always came back angry and moody. It would take her a month at least to get him back to the Dom she knew. His arrival was not something she looked forward to.

"How wonderful." Dom said as he sat.

Breakfast was a normal meal for the family. Bran was lost in a book, Sansa talked with their mother; Robb and their father were talking about management of their lands. They had their studies with the maester and then swords, then her mother made them all bathe. She did not want her children smelling for the name day feast.

The feast was one of the best they had ever had. She enjoyed herself as she watched her family. Dom laughed with Robb. Sansa argued with Rickon, Bran had put away his books and her mother was happy to watch them. Her father walked to her and she hugged him just because.

"My little one." Ned smiled.

"Father." She said with an impish smile.

"Today is a big day in young Dom's life." The family had stopped calling him by his birth name a month after they came to them.

"He is leaving us. It will be different for us all." She said sadly.

"Not so different. Dreadfort is a day's ride away. Less for you." He chuckled. "You will see him again."

"I hope so."

They had dancing that night and she danced clumsy with Dom. She stepped on his feet more times then she could count.

"You are horrible at this." He told her wincing as she stomped on his foot yet again. "Maybe you should have stayed with the septa."

"Shut up." She snarled.

"I don't think I can do another dance. I should go to bed. My father will be here early to take me home." He looked angry for a moment but the look diapered when he looked at her. "This is where I leave you." He kissed her hand and she blushed.

She waited a few moments then went to get a cloak to meet him in the godwoods. She slipped past the guards using her new water dancing skills. She might not have wanted it but she was now glad Dom had talked to her father. She was going to tell him so when they spoke. She arrived first and sat on a rock next to the thermal pool for its warmth. A light snow fall down from the sky. She was watching the snowflakes come down; she did not realize she was alone until she felt a warm body press her back.

"Dom," She started to say but he shunned her and pressed a kiss on her neck. She stiffened. She had let him do this on his chamber but his lips felt funny this time. She tried to pull easy but his Na ds were as strong as a vice.

"You know you like this." A voice hissed in her ear. The person holding her was not Dom. Ramsey kept her pulled to him. She struggled to break free and he laughed. "I see how it is. My brother you will fuck, but not me."

Calm as still water, swift as a deer. Arya told herself and she stopped struggling. She knew she only had one chance to get this right. He pulled back slightly and she felt his breath on her ear.

"I always knew you would see it my way." He laughed as he brought his face to her neck again.

She moved in a blur of speed. She let her body fall to the ground. He lost his footing and she readjusted her grip on his arm so she could use his momentum to fling him over her shoulder. He landed with a thump. She stood and kicked him in the face while he lay stunned at her feet.

"Bastard!" She yelled.

"Arya!" Dom shouted. He was close.

"Arya!" Robb called as well. Touched, she could see touches coming closer. She kicked Ra she in the balls when they came to the heart tree.

"Arya!" Dom was suddenly there, wrapping her in his arms. "I went to the workroom and saw the note. I did not write it Arya. I realized Snow had and I came as fast as I could. Are you hurt?"

"No." She said. She watched as Robb called for guards and their father. She was escorted back to the keep and taken to her fern fathers study. A servant pressed warmed wine into her hand and she sipped it while she waited for her father to come speak with her. She waited for an eternity. Finally, he entered the room looking grave. Robb and Dom followed.

"Are you hurt Arya?" He asked when he walked to her. Gathered her in his arms and held her for a moment.

"No, I'm not hurt father." She said into his chest.

"Good." He sat her back in the chair and called for more warmed wine. "Robb and Dom told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you. Did you invite the boy to meet you in the gods' wood?" He asked her as he stood next her. He was squatting down so he could look her in the eyes.

"No. I thought I was meeting Dom in the forest so we could say goodbye." Arya said softly.

"And you thought going into the woods alone was a wise choice?" Ned asked softly.

"I thought I was going to be saying goodbye to my foster brother. I saw no harm in that. I've gone to the woods alone many times at night." She said with a hint of defiance in her voice.

"I know you have dear." He said kindly. "What happened?"

Arya told him. She told him that Ramsey tried to kiss her and she defended herself. She spoke the truth, omitting only that she knew the person behind her kissing her was not Dom by the feel of his lips on her. She did not want her father to know she had kissed Dom.

"That is a different tale then the boy is saying." Her father said with a sigh.

"He lies." Arya said hotly.

"I assumed as much. He has been locked in a cell. Tomorrow I fear we will have to whip him. I will speak to Lord Bolton about this when he arrives. But he will not be staying within these walls."

"He wouldn't want to after the work over I gave him." Robb growled.

Arya glanced at her brother. His knuckles on his right hand were swollen and bloody. She smiled, knowing she had hurt the bastard first. Robb saw her look and winked at her. Then her eyes moved to Dom. He was standing as ridged as stone. She searched his face for a clue to what he was thinking; feeling, but she could not read his face.

"You have had a long night. I think you all should retire for the night." Ned said as he looked between the three young people.

"Yes ser." Dom said. His voice sounded horse, as if he had been yelling.

"Right. Come along Arya." Robb said to her. She hugged her father once more and walked to Robb. He slung his arm around her shoulder and they left the study. He took her to her bedchamber. Dom had followed silently behind.

"Robb would you give me a moment alone with Dom?" Arya asked.

"Yeah. I have to get my hand looked at. Good move little sister." He said and mussed her hair. He left them standing in the hall. Neither spoke for a long time.

"Arry I am so sorry." He said at last.

"Don't be sorry, this wasn't your fault." She said she reached out and took his hand. He walked to her and enveloped her in a hug.

"It is. If I had never come here neither would he. I can't imagine what he would have done to you if you would not have known water dancing." He said to the top of her head.

"It was because of you I knew how to stop him." She said.

"This isn't time for a joke Arya. He could have hurt you. He is crazy. You know that." He said and she flashed on the memory of finding him in the forest with a scattered mix of different dead animals at his feet while he held the skin of a rabbit to the light. She shuddered.

"I know. I'm sorry." She said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He put both hands on her face and she was looking right into his eyes. "I never want to be that worried ever again. That is why I am leave g tomorrow. I was going to ask to stay, but as long as I am here my father will insist Snow stays as well."

This was the first time she had ever heard him call his bastard brother anything but Ramsey.

"You can't leave!" She said. "I need Yu here. Who will go with me to the villages?"

She knew she was being silly. He was sixteen now, he had to learn how to man ate his father's land. But she could not imaging her life without him there. She held hugged him tighter to her.

"Gods if there was a way I could stay I would Arya, but there isn't." He whispered in her hair. He kissed the top of her head and she felt tears well in her eyes.

"I'm going to miss you." She said with a half sob.

"I'm going to miss you too. But as Lord Stark said, Dreadfort is a day's ride away. We will still see one another." He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled sadly at her. Impulsively she rose on her toes and kissed him softly. They stood there, lips toughing, saying their goodbyes.

When the kiss broke, she went into her room and cored herself to sleep. The next morning came and with it the Lord of the Dreadfort. Her father appraised Bolton of the incident and he agreed his bastard should be whipped. Ramsey snow was lead to the god's wood, feathered to a tree and Ned whipped the boy five times. He was finished but Lord Bolton took the lash and struck his son five more times, much harder then Ned. The boy had not uttered a single cry as the lash struck him. When he was released from the bonds, he turned and smiled at Arya. Her skin crawled at the gleam in her eyes. Shortly after that, the Bolton party was ready to depart.

Dom gave his goodbyes to the Starks and her mother and Sansa cried to see him go. When he walked to her last, her eyes were dry. He hugged her and told her they would always remain friends. He gave her a small kiss on the head. He walked away and then road away from Winterfell.

That had been two years ago. She had not seen him since. Arya sat in her workroom and waited for her brother to tell her what he had done. Rickon was not one fond of silence, so she knew she just had to wait and then he would speak.

"I kissed Shrieen Baratheon in the stables." He said at last. Arya breathed a deep sigh. A kiss was not as bad as she feared.

"Just a kiss?" She asked.

"An argument might have happened before the kiss." He said reluctantly.

"Well I suggest you apologies and hope her uncle and cousins don't find out what you have done. Males are very protective. I know this for a fact." Arya said matter of fact.

"That's your advice? I just apologize?" Rickon demanded. "I kiss a lady, well a d truly kiss her and you say apologize!" Rickon threw his hands in the air a d paced the chamber. "I don't think I can face her again Arya. I don't think I can do it."

"Rickon stop that." Arya reprimanded sharply. "You will apologize, you will face her and you will take whatever she has to say, then you will spend the rest of their visit frying to make it up to her."

"You can be a real bitch, do you know that?" He said angrily.

"Yes I know. You remind me every day. Now fuck off." She said with a smile at him. "I'm almost finished with my tapestry." She turned away from him.

"Thank you Arya. I know you are right, but I don't like your advice." Rickon said from the door of the room.

"If you wanted someone nice to tell you everything was going to be fine you should have gone to Sansa." Arya said over her shoulder. "Now go. I want to finish this."

Rickon left the workroom and walked around thinking of how he was going to apologize to Shrieen in the morning. He was thinking so hard he did not realize there was a person standing in front of him until he had bumped into her.

"Sorry." He mumbled. Then his eyes budged. "Sorry Princess. I was distracted."

"It is alright, Rickon?" She made his name a question.

"Yes Princess." He said uncomfortably. "Not to be rude but are you lost?"

Rhaenys blushed and gave him a guilty look. How she had gotten there, she really did not know. She had spent most of the evening watching the people at the feast. She was very amused with Robb Stark. The young man was very charismatic. She had watched how easy he had mingled with high born a d the common soldiers as well. She had been around many young painted peacocks in her life at court, but this northerner was nothing like those men.

"I have to admit I am lost. I was just to warm in the hall." She said with a smile. This you her brother made her heart hurt. She could picture Jon looking like that, if he had grown up in this place and not in the Red Keep. "Could you show me to my room?"

"Erm, I guess." Rickon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He did not know the damned royal protocol for this sort of thing. He just looked at her.

"Are you going to take my arm? It is the proper thing to do in times like this." Rhaenys said with a sweet smile. Gods alive this boy reminded her of Jon when he was this age.

"Right." He held out his arm and she looped hers in his. They walked in silence down the hall. Rhaenys was never one to suffer silences when alone with only one person. That had always been her weakness and her brothers always exploited that chink in her armor.

"So Rickon, tell me about life in the North. I've heard many tales from mother. Is everything she says true? Do the White Walkers really roam North of the Wall?" Those were the stories she loved to hear the most as a child. While they scared her, she could not help loving the thrill that would shoot down her spine, as she would listen to the stories.

"Bran would know better then I would about those stories. He loves thank kind of shit." Rickon said. "Sorry about the shit comment."

"It is okay. I've heard worse." Rhaenys laughed. "You remind me of Jon."

"Jon? I remind you of him?" Rickon asked.

"Well yes. He had a streak of wildness on him at your age." Rhaenys said with a laugh.

"I never would have imagined the stoic Prince Jon being anything like me." Rickon said in a huff.

"Don't be too sure about that young man. I've grown up with him, the way you've grown up with your siblings." She smiled at her guide. "I never would have thought that your sister Arya would be a Water Dancer, yet here we are."

"Alright I'll concede the point there. Arya is different. As much as she is a pain in the ass, she is amazing. Seven Hells if I was ever going to commit murder I'd have her help me stash the body. She is a clever one, Arya is."

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment. Since coming North and meeting Lyanna's family, she finally understood her brother a little better. Jon was a child of Winterfell as much as he was a child of the Dragon. The burden they all carried was heavy but for Jon it was heavy. He was not a summer child, a winter child even; he was a child of war and blood. True Aegon had been born the same year as the war, hells Dany had as well, but neither had been the fruits of the cause. Jon had to wear that burden on his soul from his first breath into this world.

"Jon would be my person to hide a body." Rhaenys admitted. "Is that a Stark trait? Hiding corpses?"

"If you know about the Others, the White Walkers and the wraiths you already know that here the dead may not always stay dead forever." Rickon said. His words were serious, but he was smiling at her as if it was a joke he was letting her in on.

"I don't know much yet. I've just arrived here." Rhaenys said with a smile as they walked down another passage. "But I want to learn everything I can about this part of the Kingdom. You seem like a good story teller."

"I won't be much help with that. I'm the stupid one in the family." He said with a shrug.

"I don't think so. I haven't been able to spend much time with your family, but I do not think any of your family could be stupid." Rhaenys said trying to reassure the young man walking her to her room.

"In a few days you'll learn." Rickon said with a shrug. "You said I remind you of Jon, well you remind me of Robb."

"Really?" Rhaenys took a deep breath and tried to keep her tone light.

"Yes. It must have something to do with being the oldest in the family. Maybe that's why I remind you of Jon?" He said.

"And you don't think you are smart." She smiled at him. "You remind me of Jon in how you act. He was not always somatic, as you call him. He was different when he was your age."

"Shit, does that mean I'm going to be as serious as he is when I reach twenty? If so I'm jumping from the tower, and you'll have to burn my body." Rickon said with a wolfish grin on his face.

"Who knows what you will be like in six years. So no jumping. I'm not up to burning bodies here." She replied as they walked. "Anyway you won't be like Jon."

"What do you mean? Because I am not a prince?" Rickon asked.

"No. Because you do not have two mothers tearing your father apart. Because you are very life is because of a union that caused the most brutal civil war in memory. Your very life is never going to be controlled by others who say they have your best interest at heart." Rhaenys said with a savage edge to her voice.

She remembered when her brother had lost his wildness. Sometimes it came out, but more often than not, it was never shown. It had been Jon's fourteenth name day celebration. Rhaegar had decided that they would have a joint tourney for both his sons that year. Aegon had passed fourteen a few months before, yet he had not wanted a large celebration until Jon was of age as well and they could both be made squires together. Rhaenys had stood in the stands cheering the competitors on when she had heard the ladies of the court speaking around her. She had not seen who had spoken but she never forgot the words.

"All this for a bastard? Even if he is the son of the king, he will never be anything more then a by-blow in the eyes of the seven. And look at the mother, fancies herself a queen." A woman had said.

"Poor queen Elia. She is forced to endure this. She told me herself that the king is only doing this so that northern witch does not ask her brother to call the banners and start another war. If that happened the savage northerners would surly swarm King's Landing and kill the true heir." A second woman said.

"As long as the bastard lives we will not know peace." The first woman said again and then they moved away.

Rhaenys had ran back to the royal box as fast as ser could. Only her mother and grandmother were in the box. The king was with his Hand in a meeting with an envoy from the Free Cities over slaves they wanted returned to Westeros. Lyanna had gone with Dany to watch the mêlée. The princes were with their knights. Jon with Ser Arthur and Aegon with Ser Barrister waiting their time for the joust. Rhaenys stood gasping for air as she let her breath come back to her before reveling what she overheard.

"Rhaenys, are you alright?" Elia had asked.

"Mother." She had panted. "I have just heard the most awful thing said about Jon in the lower gallery." She sucked in more air and finally stood up straight. She looked at her mother, ready to see the shock on her face that Rhaenys had felt at hearing the words spoken about a prince and of a queen. She told her mother what she had heard.

Rhaenys expected to see shock and anger on her mother's face. She had known for many years that things had been starting to change in her parents relationships, yet she had always believing d if there was ever a time when they could help one another they would. That day she was proven wrong. Her mother just sat there on her wooden throne and gave a slight smile before she spoke.

"What dreadful things to say, but many have those feelings. I've heard all this before." Elia said with a shrug. "People will believe what they wish. There is nothing I can do."

"You can tell them they are wrong. It was your idea that father bring Lyanna into the family. You can tell them that. You blessed the marriage and Jon's birth." Rhaenys said shocked at her mother's coldness to her fellow queen.

"They know the story already. Why should I bring myself into a scandal?" Elia had demanded.

"Because we are a family." Rhaenys shouted. Many of the guests around them turned their attention from the grounds and looked at the shouting princess.

"Rhaenys keep your voice down. This is not the place to discuss this. If you cannot remain calm I will ask you to leave." Elia said with a smile so the people around them would not know what was happening in the box.

"But mother." Rhaenys started to say, but her mother stood. Her face was pink in her rising anger.

Rhaella stood then and smiled warmly at them both. She placed a hand on her granddaughters shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"Child this is not the time for this. Come with me while we look at the horses." Rhaella turned and nodded her head to the queen before her. "Queen Elia I am taking the princess to view the horses."

"What a splendid idea. The princess needs a calming activity to sooth her nerves after the excitement of the jousting." Elia had replied smoothly as she retook her seat.

Rhaenys turned with her grandmother to leave the stands. When they were out of sight, she turned to Rhaella with anger blazing on her face. She had not been this angry since she was try years old and her mother had gotten her father to agree to split his time between his two wives and Elia had demanded her children abide by the rule as well. She had wept when she learned that in the evenings she could not be with her second mother. She would be separated from her brother Jon. Now her mother's inaction to defend Lyanna made her even angrier then before.

"Why is she doing nothing?" Rhaenys had asked her grandmother. "She acts as if she is pleased by these lies."

"She is child." Rhaella said as she looked at a stallion in the paddock before them. "She started the rumors."

"She did what? Does father know this?" Rhaenys demanded.

"Your father does not know at this time about the rumors. Elia took care only to whisper into the ears of women. She wanted Lyanna to find out what these witches said, not your father. Elia has forgotten her role in her current situation." Rhaella said.

"Why target Jon?" Rhaenys asked as she paced.

"Because there is no other way to hurt a mother then to go after her child." Rhaella said with an understanding that made Rhaenys not even question her grandmother. "I know you want to do something here today about this my dear, but now is not the time."

"When will be the right time?" Rhaenys demanded. "When the people come to hate mother because of Elia's lies? Or when Jon is attacked and lies dying because the people think he is a threat to Aeg?"

"When your father realizes he needs to do something about his wives." Rhaella said. "You just have to do what you can to show people of the kindness your family has."

Rhaenys did not let go of her anger, just moved it from the front of her mind. She petted the horses; spoke encouraging words to the knights around her and when she felt she could be close to her mother without screaming at her she went back to the box with her grandmother.

Her father had made it to the tourney at last and he sat with his two queens beside him. It was Lyanna's week and she sat with her hand in his. Elia was speaking to Jon Aryan about the meeting the king and he had attended. Dany was telling her mother about the horses she had seen at the trade market. There was a silver horse she was mad about.

Jon and Aegon were standing with their knights waiting for them to take their final tilt. It was the end of them day and the day light was starting to dim around the edges. Rhaenys stood and cheered as her brothers gave their knights their shields and they took their positions.

The flag dropped and the knights galloped down the field. The crowd cheered for their favorite knights. The first tilt ended with both scoring one point each. Jon and Aegon ran to hand their knights their second lance. The men got back in position and the flag dropped again.

Ser Arthur hit Ser Barrister in the helm and the older man hit his opponents shield. Aster the second tilt the score was three to two. Jon shouted over to Aegon as they passed each other.

"Maybe if Ser Barrister had a good squire he would be winning."

The boys were smiling and joking when a voice shouted from the peasant stands at Jon.

"Bastard." The cry rang out. Soon many took it up. Jon stood at his post Wirth the lance in his hand and looked around him. Only a hand full of people were chanting bastard, but it was enough. He looked over to his father and mother. The king stood and walked down from the box with Lyanna at his heels.

Rhaenys stood looking at the crowd and her blood boiled. Her brother's face was red and he looked close to tears. The members of the crowd that had chanted bastard had fallen silent when the Gold Cokes had entered the stand. Everyone was silent when Rhaegar and Lyanna had reached their son.

Lyanna hugged her son and Rhaegar spoke words into his child's ear. Rhaenys saw Jon nod his head and went to stand beside his knight. His once bright face was serious now as he waited for the tilt to commence. The king raised his hand and all eyes were on him.

"Let us finish this tilt. Award the winner. Today is a celebration on the births of your two princes. Honor them for they are the future."

The crowd cheered, but it was not as excited as it had been all day. It was as if they were all holding their breath to see how Prince Jon reacted. He stood tall and proud. There could be no doubt in the mind of the people he did not possess the manners of a monarch. Rhaegar and Lyanna made their way back to their box. Once they were seated, the flag dropped and the two knights ran their horses for each other with thunder sounding as they rode.

Ser Arthur set his lance and rolled his shoulder at the same time. The other man's lance missed him and his own lance landed on the center of Ser Barrister's chest. The tilt was over. Four lances to two. The crowd roared and Rhaenys looked to see if her if Jon was celebrating. He just stood there still as stone. That had been the day that her carefree brother had diapered and his serious self took over.

"I don't have those worries to turn me serious." Rickon said beside her in the present, "I have parents who have decided imam not good enough so they have replaced me with a new child."

Rhaenys blinked slowly at him. She shook her head to move the memory from her mind. She brought herself back to the present.

"The child was not made to replace you Rickon. It is Amway for your parents somehow the world they still love one another. The new child is no reflection on yourself. Why do you feel that way?" She asked.

"It is just how I feel." He said. She knew better then to press the matter. Jon was the same way. He would not explain his feelings until he was ready. She decided to change the subject.

"Will you be going for the ride in the Wolves Wood tomorrow?"

"I haven't decided yet. I have some apologizing to do. Or that's what Arya told me I have to do." Rickon huffed.

"Who are you apologizing to?" She asked.

"Lady Shrieen." He said in a clipped tone. "I seem to have behaved improperly. If Arya says I did wrong I know I messed up."

"Well I hope you can make the lady forgive you." She said. "This hall looks familiar. This is the right corridor I think."

"It's the right one. If I am going to be up at dawn to train, I must get to bed. Goodnight princess."

"Thank you Rickon. I would have been looking for hours for my room," Rhaenys smiled to him. She walked into her room and shut the door.

Rickon walked to the Hall. The music had stopped but the party had not. He walked over to Robb, who was slumped on a table. Rickon took the fill tankard of ale from his limp fingers. Robb mumbled something and Rickon leaned down to hear what he was saying.

"Fucking Baratheon out drank me."

Rickon patted his brother's arm and left him in his drunken stupor. He looked around the room for anyone interesting to talk to but no one left looked like he could stand them. He turned to walk away when he was stopped by a voice around his elbow.

"You my boy are the last wolf standing on his feet at the end of the feast. Impressive." Tyrion said to him.

"Only because I am not a weak bellied fool like my brother." Rickon relied.

"Elder brothers are like that." Joffrey said as he came over with a large goblet of wine in his hand. He took a drink a d smiled at Rickon.

"Older brothers are nasty creatures." Tyrion said seriously.

"And they pile on the shit they don't want to do to us younger brothers." Rickon said.

"Let's make a toast to ourselves." Joffrey said with a smile on his face that was drooping on the left side. "A toast to younger sons."

"If you don't mind the intrusion, "Jon said stopping as he was walking by the group, "I would like to join in the toast."

"I don't see why not." Tyrion said to Jon. "You may be a prince but I'm sure you get enough shit heaped on you from your brother."

"I get my share." Jon shrugged. "I don't care to have a game of which brother is the biggest prat, so let is toast." He looked at Joffrey to continue.

"Right." Joffrey said as he smiled again. "To the brothers who get it all and to us younger sons who have to fix all the fuck ups our brothers make."

"To the parents who demand perfection and come to is to get it." Tyrion chimed in.

"To having the choice to do what we want because we weren't born first." Jon toasted with a cocky smile.

"To sisters. Without them we'd all be bigger asses then we already are." Rickon toasted. The others looked at him then Jon started to laugh.

"I think your toast was best Rickon."

"Let's not waste the toasts and let's drink." Tyrion said. They put their cups to their lips and drank them dry.

They all stood in silence once they had finished their drinks and looked at one another. Rickon shifted from foot to foot. Jon let his eyes flicker from every face, Joffrey swayed slightly and Tyrion looked into his empty cup.

"Well, this is now strange." Jon said after a long moment.

"You think so as well?" Rickon asked.

"Hell I was looking at the bottom of my glass because I couldn't think anything to say, and I never lose my ability to speak." Tyrion said to the group.

"Sometimes the family hopes for that moment and it never happens. I'm sad to be the only one to have witnessed it." Joffrey said with a belch.

"Maybe tomorrow night we can get him to it again in front of people." Jon said.

"I think we can do it." Rickon grinned at his cousin.

"You think so boy?" Tyrion asked. "I think you'd have an easier time making pig's fly then making me fall silent again."

"I think I could do that. Could I use mechanics to get the pig to fly?" Rickon asked.

"I would not call that making a pig fly if you use a machine." Joffrey put in his opinion.

"If he crafts it I think it would count." Jon said.

"I am sorry to cut this conversation short, but I need wine if we are going to talk about pigs flying." Tyrion walked away from the young men.

"I think we started to act like children and that made him run from us, not the need of the drink." Rickon said.

"Uncle Tyrion does like to drink. So it is hard to say." Joffrey said. He took a step forward and tripped on his feet. Jon and Rickon both reached out and grabbed him.

"How much has he drank?" Rickon asked.

"He out drank your brother, my brother, Greyjoy, boy his uncles and Ser Arthur." Jon said grunting as they dragged the unconscious Joffrey to the table by Robb.

They got Joffrey slumped on the table. They looked at one another and then they broke out laughing. For the first time since the visitors had come Rickon saw what Rhaenys had said, that Jon had a carefree side. He suspected Arya knew that when she dared their cousin to go with her to the kitchen.

Rickon was just about to tell Jon his observation when the side door to the chamber behind the great hall opened and a weary Ned and Robert exited the small room. Jon and Rickon looked to them. In moments, Benjen and Lyanna lift the room in a hushed argument. The cousins looked at one another and both started walking to their parents. Robert saw them first. He cleared his throat and the argument stopped.

"Father Robb is asleep on a table with Joffrey. What should we do with them?" Rickon asked his father, more as a way to begin a discussion rather than out of concern for his brother.

"You can leave my son where he is. Ned I suggest you should do the same with your son. The hour is late and it has been a long day. Tomorrow is going to be another long day as well I feel." Robert said to these around him.

"Robert is right. Let him be where they are." Ned nodded. "Rickon I believe you should go and find your sisters and tell them they should retire for the evening and then go to bed as well."

"Alright father." Rickon said. His father had never sounded so tired in his life. He looked over to Jon who was looking at his mother.

"Jon I think your uncle is right. It is time for us to retire for the night. As Robert said tomorrow will be a long day. You know what Elia has planned for the feast. Why we need to have another one is beyond me." Lyanna said wearily.

Jon and Rickon looked at each other and slowly walked out of the hall. Both walked slower then they should have, in the hopes to hear what their parents were saying. Robert watched the boys walk away and he shook his head to keep the groups discussion from continuing. Only when the two youths were out of the room and out of earshot did he look at the three Starks.

"I know you three would argue until the Long Winter came and covered us with snow, but it is late. We have made a decision and we will hold to it. I am going to tell you three the same thing I told those boys. Depart for bed. Tomorrow will be hell." Robert looked hard at the three Starks before him.

Twenty years ago, he would have been the one in this group to have gone to his horse, gathered an army and marched off to the wall to battle the threat of the White Walkers without a thought. Now that he was older and realized what effects his rash actions could have on others around him he was cautions. While the others had argued as they had over what to do with Benjen's news, he had reasoned for them to sleep on this, one more day might not make a difference. It might give them time to gather their wits and be the rocks in the storm when the others learn of the impending dangers that awaited them.

Lyanna looked at him as if she was looking at a stranger. It was not the first time she jade done so that night. Benjen had even told him that he had changed for the better since they had been together last. Robert took it as a compliment and thanked the man of the Night's Watch.

"Come along. Let us go to our beds. I have a need to hold my wife." Robert looked at Ned and he nodded his head.

"I have that need too. Good night Ben. We will talk in the morning about Rickon." He just looked at his brother. "Lyanna I will be beside you when we tell the king what we now know." He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. "You will not have to be alone in this."

Lyanna stiffened for a moment. But when she realized Ned wanted nothing from her she embraced him back. She tried to pull in as much love from that hug as she could to wrap it around her as she slept in her empty bed that night.

"Thank you Ned. For everything. Coe opening your home to us, for being strong, steady, and constant. Father would be proud of you." She kissed his cheek and left him.

Ned left the hall and made his way to his chamber. He opened his door and saw the shape of his wife already asleep in their bed. He took his clothes off and slid into bed beside her. He kissed the side of her face that was close to him. She signed and rolled away.

Ned lay in bed beside his wife and for the first time in his life, he felt cold. A cold so bone deep that he felt pain. He had not told his wife of what Ben had shown him and his sister. Nor the fact that they would subsequently share this information with Robert. Ben had been adamant in his desire to show the king, but Lyanna had told them they had to wait. She did not want to ruin his good spirits she had said. However, Ned had agreed with his brother that the king should be told as soon as possible.

Lyanna had then proceeded to turn on them. She had said she was queen and they would do as she said. Ever since they were all children, Lyanna could be a stubborn as the thickest skulled auroch when she got it into her head that she wanted things to be a certain way. And being given the authority of a queen/royal mistress/whatever the hell the southern court was labeling her now had done nothing to temper that. Ned had felt his irritation with her decidedly inconvenient burst of childish petulance rise and could see Benjen felt the same. Before their quarrel could erupt into a full-blown row however, Robert had stepped in to try to play peacemaker in order to resolve the argument between Starks. It was seeing Robert Baratheon try to act as the voice of reason more than anything was that snapped them all out of their tempers before they got too out of hand. They agreed that for tonight at least that they had to act as though nothing were wrong if only so they could marshal their arguments and think of a way to convince others of what this was.

It was near the blackest part of the night when Ned tried one last time to sleep, but the child growing within his wife had other ideas and made his beloved roll again. She hit him in the head then turned away again. He rose to an elbow, placed a hand on her swollen stomach and hummed a song he had hummed to all his children. It was a song his mother had sung to him as a child. He felt the babe still and his wife sighed in relief. Despite everything that weighed upon his mind like a ton of masonry, he found himself able to smile as he looked down at her. He silently marveled that this woman in his bed was truly his. They had so many trials in the beginning of their marriage. They had started being strangers forced to marry to fulfill their duty to their families whilst the specter of their first loves hung over their heads and their wedding bed like a mourning shawl.

His brother Brandon for Cat, Ashara Dayne for Ned.

The next day after bedding his wife, he had been marching off to war. Even after he came back north from it, the war and the memories of it had almost torn him apart inside. Cat had done what she could to help him. Comforted him, stayed by his side, accepted his silences and his quiet mourning for what had passed. When at last he had been ready to talk of the things that had burdened him, he vividly remembered he had asked her how she could possibly put up with so much from him. She had replied that he was her husband now. And that meant his burdens were her burdens. For better and worse, they had said. And even if he was not Brandon, she had meant it when she swore herself to him. Her warm silky skin a familiar balm to his soul that he missed even when a lord's business had him from Winterfell on few days he would be forced from her side. Sleep came to him at last, but it was far from restful. He was plagued with dreams that could not decide if they were nightmares or memories.

Ned could tell this was the early days of his rule as Lord of Winterfell even if he could not tell when. When he had first returned from the civil war, he had tried to see every person high and lowborn who came to the door of his castle looking for guidance, for need. But always he felt like an imposter sitting the seat that should be Brandon's, never his. Ned had come back alive from the battlefield multiple times, but in many eyes (including his own), he had lost the war. His sister sat adjacent to the throne instead of Robert Baratheon and he had not even been the one to avenge his father and brother. The dowager queen had been the one to slay the madman who murdered the Warden of the North and his son.

As the messenger came running into the hall, Ned realized with a jolt that this was a memory from three years into his reign as Warden of the North: he thought it was the day that Arya had been born. More sobering, it was also the first time hints of the raids on hamlets and villages on the New Gift had come to his attention. In his dream, it was the middle of the night when he left for the village while Ned distinctly remembered that he had left early the next morning. The village was small and rested near the source of the Last River. The remains of what had once been a quietly peaceful place to live had long since cooled by the time he got there that morning, but in this dream the village was still smoldering as he and his contingent rode toward it. The smell of burnt flesh and spilled blood hung in the air, tickling the back of his throat like a sickeningly sweet confection. The copper scent made everything taste of pennies no matter how little he tried to open his mouth to breathe the frosty northern air.

Ned had not wanted to ride further, not to see tragedy such as this so soon after he had known joy within his own family. But he was the Lord, the Warden, and the Stark of Winterfell. Therefore, he had a duty to his people no matter what his personal feelings. He had failed this village once. He would not dishonor their deaths by refusing to see what had been done.

The flames had burned themselves to embers leaving a red haze to all the surfaces that had not been reduced to mere ash. The largest building in the village was the only one still glowing in this nebulous dreamscape. It was also the one where the smell was the strongest. He walked the husk of the village in a trance as he reached the shell of the building. The doors were still intact and bound shut with a thin layer of frost covering all of it.

That too was different from Ned's memories, for he knew those doors had been broken down and splintered by axe strikes the morning they had inspected it. Apparently, the villagers had thought to barricade themselves inside and so try to save at least some. They had not succeeded in saving anyone that way. The walls had burned town to nothing so his view of the inside was not obscured. What he saw was a horror he had never wished to find in these lands. Bones littered the floor. Twenty at least, all different sizes, none seeming to fit together. He knew even before he had arrived that all who had called this place home had perished in his mind. But to see the dead reduced to bare bones, to know that they had not long ago been vibrantly, vividly alive…

Yet that had not been the worst of it he knew. With a sense of dread, he turned when Benjen called out to him from a row of trees on the outskirts of the village in the memory as he had in life. His brother had been first ranger for almost a year at this point and so was familiar with wildlings as well as their work. But even he had looked grey in the face, though he was a sight better than many of the men who had accompanied them. They had voided their stomach contents in the nearby bushes.

"Look." Was the only thing his younger brother had said as he walked away from the unbearable sight.

Swallowing past the spiky lump in his throat, Ned had looked where his brother had pointed. In the limbs of the trees bodies swayed in the wind. His dream and his memories were clashing severely now, forcing him to blink several times so the shapes in the trees would stop shifting and changing before his gaze. Many of the parts were severed limbs. Blood had dripped to form a river under the bodies. That he remembered from his memory of that day. He could handle the limbs. The bodies that were nominally whole yet horrifically mutilated were more difficult to understand.

He saw three men, all without faces and their manhood strewn among the branches, their bodies blistered where torches has been put to them. Four vaguely female shapes dangled. Ned used the term vaguely to describe them for they were uniformly without breasts with one whose bowels were hanging out of her body, tangled with the remains of a dismembered leg did not appear to belong to any of the swaying bodies. There were bite marks on their flesh that went so deep he could see the teeth imprints from the ground. But the worst sight by far were the children. Six small bodies were in the tree. All showed signs of abuse and things so foul his mind would not let him process it all. He remembered how much of a struggle it had been to maintain his composure in the face of such barbarity. Even now with years between now and the time of this memory, it still made his gorge rise and he found great difficulty in controlling himself. But once he was under control again, he spoke to his men.

"What did this?" He asked.

"Wildlings my Lord Stark." Came a familiar dry voice from behind him.

Ned turned. Standing under the base of a tree some feet away from this macabre display stood Roose Bolton. He had a polite but empty smile on his thin lips that was unsettling considering the aftermath surrounding them all. He pushed himself off the tree and walked toward Ned.

"Our riders found a camp some distance from here. The wildling occupants were found with plunder from the village. When confronted, they initiated violence against my soldiers and so are almost all dead. I do however have two of them if you wish to question them." Roose was standing beside Ned now, his voice almost directly in Ned's ear.

Roose Bolton had always been an uneasy enigma to Ned. Ned knew the contentious history between their families, had occasionally heard his father speak of his own dealings with the Bolton house. It was a bad history but that alone was not enough to condemn him. For Roose himself had always been loyal, always obeyed his father's and his commands without question. There was something to Roose's demeanor though. How even when he smiled like now it always seemed empty and rehearsed, almost mask-like instead of genuine. Ned sighed. He did not need to make more enemies of his banner men and so had to handle this right.

He nodded once to indicate he wished to take Roose up on his offer, but not before rebuking him.

"You should not have killed them." Ned admonished as they walked under the starless night, their steps crunching in the frost upon the ground, the eerie blue eyes of the dead within the tree staring at them as they left the tapestry of death behind. "I should have been told before I was brought to this village. It is my duty as warden to see justice handed down."

"With all due respect Lord Stark, their attack on my soldiers cost three good men their lives. I shall have to speak with the widow of one personally, as I knew her and her husband somewhat better than the rest. Forgive me for not being over concerned with showing greater care toward savages from beyond the wall than our own people." Roose shrugged as though Ned's disapproval did not matter one way or the other.

Ned nodded once more to acknowledge Roose's point even if he privately disagreed that there was no other way around violence. "I owe you a debt then Lord Bolton. If you wish, I can deliver the widow her sad news personally." Ned offered as a gesture of peace as they walked toward a gathering of their soldiers whose torches made a bright contrast to the darkness of the cold night as Roose Bolton followed in step behind him.

"With all due respect my lord I shall be the one to tell the woman. Her husband was my solider and I am still her liege lord. It seems only right." Bolton spoke in that detached way that made Ned privately wonder whether the grieving woman would possibly believe he was sincere in offering his sympathies and condolence.

"As you say Lord Bolton." Ned was close to the clearing now, his master of arms was waiting for him. "Rodrick please see to the village. Put them to rest as best you can."

"Yes my lord. Jory will accompany you to the questioning." Rodrick said as he moved back toward the village. Underneath concern for his lord's safety, Ned thought he understood what the older man was trying to tell him. House Bolton had a reputation for using any means to gather information. There was a reason their seal was a flayed man after all.

"Thank you." Ned replied.

They came the rest of the short distance to the small clearing in the woods. Standing shackled to a pole in the center of the clearing two men in furs stood: one yelling insults to the Bolton men who stood guarding them, the other visibly exhausted and seemingly shaken.

"Quiet." Ned's voice of command came easily when he saw them. His anger roiled just beneath the surface, his wolf's blood up and threatening to overwhelm his composure. He wanted to be home with his wife and his children. Just as he was sure, the people who had been murdered here had wanted. He needed answers in order to deliver justice and now was time to get them.

"We've kept them for you sir." One of the guards said unnecessarily as the two northern lords approached.

Ned walked over to the first man shackled to the pole in the ground. They were both rough looking men. This first though had blood dried all over his body, matted into the fur itself while the other was merely dirty and disheveled. Ned remembered the dead villagers and he could feel the urge to use the ancestral Stark longsword Ice on them. It was in the wolf's hide sheath just behind him being carried by Jory. But he resisted the urge, instead folding his arms over each other to resist the temptation.

"Tell me what occurred here now. If you speak the truth and speak it fully, than I swear as the Lord of Winterfell that the justice you meet will be merciful." He told the captives.

The one directly in front of him spat at his boots and was punched in the gut by a nearby guard for his trouble. Jory walked closer to Ned from behind, ready to offer Ice at a moment's notice. The Bolton guard looked closely at the man as if being sure that he would make no more trouble before he moved away. The second man struggled at his bonds weakly. The punched man had not regained his breath before he started laughing

"What does your lordship think happened?" The spitter mocked. "We gutted them like the soft shit stained pigs they was. The pigs with cocks was almost as soft as the ones with cunts. The lil piglets thought that squealing would save them, but when they could not flap their tongues no more they quieted right down. Ah, their silence was music to my ears." He waxed rhapsodic, blue eyes seeming to glow amidst the torches that half shrouded the faces of the guardsmen in shadows around Ned.

Ned gestured Jory closer and drew Ice from its scabbard even as his mind raced. He recalled that in life, the first man had spat at him, claimed that he would never tell no upjumped lordling cocksucker anything before he'd died of blood loss from his injuries fighting Roose's soldiers. Ned singled one of his men to remove the self-confessed murder and rapist from the pole. The decision was simple and straightforward, especially when the likes of this refuse wouldn't last a day at the wall.

"For your crimes against the North and the Realm: I, Eddard of the House Stark, do sentence you to death." The man was pushed to his knees and a rock was hastily pushed under his neck. Ned stood near his shoulder and held the sword with both hands, the roaring wolf atop Ice's pommel seeming to judge him as he did.

"Do it quick then, if you think you have the stones." The man chuckled, coughing once or twice as his lungs recovered from the earlier punch. He held his neck out long so Ned would have a chance at him. Ned did not know what to take from this, why it was happening this way in his dream. As he brought Ice up, the man's head swung toward Ned and his almost glowing blue eyes seemed to burrow into Ned's very soul as he spoke with a voice as coldly venomous and filled with malice as the darkest pits of death and blood that haunted Ned's memories of war and death and destruction.

"You think you are master of this realm when in truth you are naught but an animal, shivering prey waiting for the true masters of this world to awaken. The cold truth of them will strip the air from your lungs; their icy wrath will shatter your illusions of safety and warmth, you pathetic things that play in the light. Even as we speak, your time is coming at an end. For soon, all the lights you huddle around like the weakened mewling curs you are shall go out. When they do, the shadows of the dark shall find you. And just as a dying mongrel cannot prevent the night from falling upon them, there is nothing you can do to stop it." Ned brought the blade down with a shout and allowed gravity to help him remove the grinning head from the body. It landed upon the ground with a dull thud. Blood sprayed out from the cooling corpse even as the blue eyes stared back at him, a bloody and malicious smile upon its visage. Ned turned to the second man. He was just as dirty as the man he had just killed. But this one shook with fear.

"Please don't kill me sir! I-I didn't do nothing to those people! I was just told to watch! I just followed my orders!" The second man screamed as Ned strode toward him, Ice still wet with blood.

"Then tell me who ordered this." Ned demanded.

"I don't know!" He was crying now.

"How very convenient that just when Lord Stark is ready to claim your head for the crimes that you've committed that this is the first we hear of a mysterious master whose orders miraculously absolve you of guilt." Roose idly remarked from among the men.

"I will hear what he has to say." Ned snapped. "Who gave you the orders?"

Ned was very confused and shaken by now. That was not at all how this had gone in reality. The man had refused to speak with him, saying only that he was already dead. Frustrated and at his wit's end, Ned had sent the man off with Roose Bolton to see if his bannerman could get any answers out of him. Roose was successful in prying a name from the man though Ned could not bear to find out how. That name had been the first time Ned heard the words Mance Rayder.

"I don't know m'lord, I don't know! He came to me when I was drunk, he offered me good money. I took it and I did what he said. I met a band of men, guided them here. That's all, I swear it! They butchered the village! Gods help me I stood by for so long and then ran!" He was still crying pathetically. "I'm a craven and a pathetic drunk, but I swear to you I'm no murderer! Please, don't kill me! Please, please, please don't kill me!"

The man was wracked with sobs now, his muddy brown eyes now closed as he seemed convinced that Ned was about to execute him. And Ned was so very tempted. He wanted to be done with this whole sorry business even if it meant to kill this man and ride home. But as always, duty kept him where he stood. He knew he had to look further into this.

"Tell me what the man who hired you looked like." He pushed, testing to see if the illusion of this man would be willing to make up something further or if he was perhaps telling the truth.

"I don't know." He hiccupped. "It was dark when we left town. But he swore he worked for a powerful man. A lord." He looked at Ned beseechingly again. "That's all I know I swear it. Don't kill me, please!"

Ned considered his plea, wondering how he was meant to believe this. But seeing as this was a dream, what harm was there in going further.

"Untie him." He ordered, mind made up. He wanted to see what his dream was trying to tell him.

The first true frown Roose Bolton had ever expressed came to his face as he shook his head disapprovingly at Ned, as though he were a child insisting on getting his way in spite of any problems to the contrary. His men murmured in discontent, but still did what they were told. The man sagged between the two gourds.

"We will continue this conversation in Winterfell. Bind him to your horse Jory."

"Thank you m'lord! Blessings upon your merciful house m'lord!" The man sobbed. He tried to shuffle toward Eddard with his hands outstretched. It almost made Ned feel guilty that he had sent him with Roose in reality.

Roose's cold voice came from Ned's left.

"Stay where you are." It commanded a tone of danger to it that Ned could never recall having heard from Roose in waking life.

The man turned slowly from Ned and a look passed over his face. It was close to terror. He quickly ambushed one of the guards supporting him and drew the sword before charging toward Ned. As he did, Roose stepped in front of Ned's line of sight, driving a dagger that appeared in his right hand into the man's throat before he stepped to the man's left, roughly withdrawing the dagger. The resulting viscera sprayed over Ned's face and part of his tunic as he did, dousing his front in a liberal helping of blood.

The desperate man gurgled as he fell to his knees clutching the bubbling hole in his throat. From behind his hands, only a few words emerged. "Beware…bloody…man" With a final pain filled gasp, he was gone, the light faded from his eyes in the flickering torches surrounding them.

Ned turned slowly to this dream version of his bannerman. Roose stood by the side of the cooling body untouched by the blood with a look of almost contemptuous boredom on his face. Ned couldn't understand for the life of him what was happening in this dream. He kept his voice calm as he spoke to his men, for all who lived in the North were his no matter how they disagreed with his decision.

"Why?" He heatedly asked Roose.

Perhaps it was Ned's dream acting up, but he certainly had not remembered Roose Bolton's lips looking red as though he had recently spilled a blood colored wine on them as he walked closer with an empty smile. His pale eyes looked on as though he were laughing at private joke only he knew the punchline to. Ned would have found it amusing had he thought Roose capable of laughter at all.

"My duty to the North and its people demanded it." Was all he said.

Ned could not bear this dream any longer, especially not when he saw so many faces of agreement among those who held their torches to illuminate the clearing. He turned to Jory and spoke.

"Be sure to inform me of any further developments Jory. If there is nothing else for me here, I have a wife and children who need me." He said. He could almost feel the gazes of contempt digging into his back. A lord leaving matters like this to dote on his family? They would be calling him Tytos Stark soon enough.

It seemed to him the countryside passed in a blur, the environment indistinct now that his dream was bringing him back to Winterfell. He came to the doors of the great hall. He entered with a sick heart and confused mind. He absently looked down at his hand, seeing Ice still in it. It was clean. As it was, he must have cleaned it in the Godswood. This must have been after, reaching the second night of Arya's birth when he had mulled matters over in the eyes of the Old Gods and come away sure that he had made the right decision to trust Roose.

Now it seemed all these years later that his dream was telling him this had not been a Wildling attack: that it was something planned and executed to look like one. The Free Folk had been called many a thing in the lands north of the neck, but among those descriptors 'clever' and 'subtle' had never been one anyone thought to include.

As the sword disappeared from his hand as he walked along the empty moonlit corridors of Winterfell, he felt adrift. He felt himself a young boy who had no more idea how he was meant to rule the North than a maester expected to be a master at arms. He felt a shudder trickle down his spine. The decapitated head of the madman swam before his eyes along with the gurgling craven. They were all trying to tell him something, but were they trying to tell him the same thing? Why this memory? Why now?

As he came upon the nursery, he resolved to enjoy this rare chance at lucid dreaming as best he could and dwell no more in memories of hard choices or regrets he did not know. As the door creaked open, he saw his copper haired wife sitting in a rocking chair before a gently crackling hearth, their newborn daughter in her arms.

"Maester Luwin spoke of the village." She said with sad eyes as their child fed from her breast. "I am so sorry my love."

Ned knelt by her side, feeling as though he had lived seven years for everyone. Sometimes he wondered how his father had coped with what must have felt to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. But as he looked at his daughter and wife together, he felt some pieces of the world fall into something resembling a proper place. He kissed his wife's forehead and looked down at their little girl. Her eyes were scrunched shut as though she were concentrating in her sleep, much like the hounds in the kennel who sometimes twitched as they dreamt of hunting hares as they slept. He smiled at the mop of brown hair atop her head, thinking of his sister who was so far away now.

"Have we thought of a name?" He asked Cat, changing the subject to something more pleasant.

"Arya. I wish her first name to be Arya. As for a middle name I leave it up for you to decide." Cat whispered with a small smile.

Ned thought for a moment before he spoke the answer that his wife had alternately been amused and exasperated by.

"Why not Lyarra, after my mother?" He suggested.

"Arya Lyarra Stark." She grinned, looking down as their new one yawned loudly. "I love it."

A:N Now this was not the planned chapter for this spot. I just felt we needed some more info from the past few years of some characters. I just want to say a huge thank you to two amazing people. One is the most amazing friend I could ask for, NewGirl08. She is always there to talk ideas with and act as my cheerleader when I get stuck or kicks my butt when I procrastinate to long. So great huge thanks to NewGirl. the second person is Mx4. If i need to ask a stupid question or bounce a new plot line off anyone Mx4 is my go to person. The Ned portion I have to admit was my idea format but i didn't write that section. And there are parts of the Asha section that aren't totally mine. Like I said my idea but not all my words. Mx4 is my hero and I have a loss of words on how to say thanks for being a kick ass person and help.

So I don't know when I can post next. I hope I can get on track now that this issue is on the page!

Thanks for reading and remember to let me know what you all think.