"Your Grace, there is a raven for you," Sam Tarley told Robb while he was sparring with Jon and Grenn, the three of them teaching the new recruits to fight. "Maester Aemon wants to hand the message to you personally."

Robb nodded and placed his training blade back into the cart and clapped both Jon and Grenn on their forearms before leaving with Sam. "You spend a lot of time with Maester Aemon, don't you, Sam?" he asked Sam as they went up to Maester Aemon's tower. "Have you ever thought of becoming a Maester yourself?"

"Well... not really, Your Grace," Sam answered with a small smile. "I mean... we're gonna need every man we have here and someone's gonna have to help Maester Aemon too."

Robb smiled and nodded. "I understand," he said. "Well, there's always that option for you though. The Night's Watch doesn't only need warriors, Sam, it needs builders and cooks, healers and even accountants. When Maester Aemon passes, everything that he once looked after would fall into into disarray. You'll have to prepare for any... eventuality."

"I know," Sam returned. "But..."

"If it's the payment for your studies, Sam, you needn't worry. I will sponsor every penny."

Sam's expression lightened up immediately. "Do... do you really mean it, Your Grace?" he asked. Studying to be a Maester was no cheap venture. Yes, the Night's Watch would willingly fork out any amount of money for a replacement Maester should Maester Aemon pass on, but, the cost of his tuition alone would have bought many bushels of good wheat and vegetables.

"Every penny, Sam, and nothing less," Robb answered. "You've been a good friend to Jon up here, and it's all I can do to repay you."

"Your Grace... I..."

"Think of it as a brother's thanks," Robb said. "Jon would not have survived without you, Grenn or Edd with that brash, thick skull of his, that much I can see. I am indebted to all of you, truly."

Sam smiled and nodded. They had already reached Maester Aemon's door and he helped him to open it. "In you go, Your Grace," Sam said.

"Ah, Your Grace," Maester Aemon said. "Welcome, welcome. Please, have a seat."

"You can call me 'Robb', Maester Aemon, there's no need to stand on ceremony here," Robb said. Maester Aemon was probably the oldest person Robb had ever met. He was frail and blind, and there was really no need to subject him to any formality at all. "Sam said that you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did," Maester Aemon said. "There was a raven for you that just arrived from Dorne, so I think that it would be better that you were the one who read the messages it carried."

"Messages?" Robb asked. "It carried more than one?"

"One from your sister, Princess Sansa," Maester Aemon said, holding up the first message. "And another from her husband, Prince Oberyn."

Robb furrowed his brow. Why would Sansa send him one message and Oberyn another? He first read Sansa's message, where she told him that she had a vision of Bran and two other children his age being held captive north of the Wall by what seemed like those of the Night's Watch who had gone rogue, while Oberyn had warned him about the overuse of Sansa's abilities. He said that Sansa was taking longer to recover after each successive vision...

"Robb? What's the matter?" Maester Aemon asked when he noticed Robb's sudden silence.

"My brother Bran, he's north of the Wall," Robb said. "Sansa saw him with her Greensight, held in Craster's Keep, but... Oberyn said that the power weakens her..."

Maester Aemon sighed. "Greenseers are rare among humans, even among the First Men, no record of one exists, so no one can know what truly happens to them," he said. "I pray that the Gods are kind to those whom they have bestowed their gifts upon."

"Thank you, Maester Aemon," Robb said. "I really appreciate it."

"No, thank you, Robb," Maester Aemon said. "I was starting to fear that no one would come to the Wall when you answered that raven. You have given the Night's Watch the hope that it needs to live on. We might say that we are removed from the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, but we are indebted to you, the King in the North."

Robb clasped Maester Aemon's hand and said, "It's what I should do, Maester Aemon. My responsibility as a Stark."

"What will you do now?" Maester Aemon asked him.

"I have to get to Bran," he said. "With or without the help of the Night's Watch."

"Go with the blessings of the Gods, Robb," he said. "May you find your brother."

When Robb had gotten back down, the afternoon meal had already been served. "Any news from Papa?" Nymeria asked him.

Robb nodded. "Sansa has had another vision, and it has to do with Bran," he said.

A sigh of relief escaped from the Sand Snakes. "Nym's heard whispers that the Lannisters are sending the Imp to Sunspear. If they cannot find Sansa there, they will march their men to Dorne."

"We won't be able to reach Dorne in time if that happens," Nymeria added.

Robb steeled his expression. Obara and Nymeria were fierce warriors that belied every formerly-held notion about women who took to the sword. They were just as capable as any man. They also loved their family. "No, we won't," Robb told them. "Sansa won't be leaving for Essos anytime soon, don't worry." He stopped speaking when he saw Ser Alliser approaching him.

"When Jon comes, I will tell him my decision about Craster's Keep," Ser Alliser said. "You can join him if you want."

Robb knew that Ser Alliser was waiting for the mutineers to do away with Jon. He knew that the Acting Lord Commander of the Night's Watch did not like Jon at all. Jon had been hand-chosen to be Mormont's successor, he had the support of the rest of the Black Brothers. For the matter, Ser Alliser was not very fond of him either, but it mattered little.

He sat down with Obara and Nymeria while the Blackfish went to fetch them some ale. They ate and drank in quiet until Jon came up. "Your foray to Craster's Keep, I'll sanction it," Ser Alliser told Jon. "But I won't order anyone to go with you. Volunteers only."

"Thank you, Ser Alliser," Jon said, before casting a knowing glance to Robb. He started to speak, but everyone was so busy eating, he could not catch their attention. Nymeria took pity on him and cracked her whip high over her head, while Grenn pounded his cup onto the table to catch their attention.

"I'm going beyond the Wall to Craster's Keep," he told his brothers, sworn and half alike. "I'm going to capture the the mutineers holed up there or kill them... I'm asking for volunteers to come with me." Everyone looked at one another in silence. There were some who continued with their meal, unperturbed by his words. "There's 60 miles of wilderness between here and Craster's and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us, but we have to do this. Our survival might depend on us getting to these mutineers before Mance does. They know the Wall, they know our defenses. If Mance learns what they know, we're lost."

Still, everyone was silent. No one spoke, because they knew that what he said was true. There was a strange smile on Robb, one that Jon had never seen before. One that was strangely reflected upon the Sand Snakes as well. It was that look that Father gave Robb when they were growing up. It was... approval, something that he had never received in his whole life.

"If that's not enough," he continued, "then consider this. If the Night's Watch are truly brothers, then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the Watch and he was betrayed by his own men, stabbed in the back by cowards. He deserved far better. All we can give him now is justice... Who will join me?"

Grenn was the first to rise, followed by Edd. Once they rose, many others did too. Even Robb and the Sand Snakes.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Blackfish asked Robb. "This has nothing to do with you!"

"That's my brother out there, Uncle Brynden. What will the world say when the Night's Watch rally around Jon and I just sat here? They're his sworn brothers, I am at least his real one." Robb returned.

"I can't let you come with us, Robb," Jon said. "You're too... important."

"Don't worry," Obara said. "Nym and I will watch over him. We're coming too."

"Thank you, brothers," he said, before his gaze fell to Obara and Nymeria. "And you too, Obara and Nymeria."

They gave him a playful wink, one that he had tried to avoid, giving the rest of them a good chuckle. Robb walked towards him and said, "Walk with me."

When they were in a quiet part of the castle, Jon exclaimed. "You're mad! You're the King in the North. If anything happens to you out there... who's gonna lead your armies?"

"Shh, they'll hear you!" Robb hushed him, covering Jon's mouth with his hand. "There was word from Dorne. Sansa's had another vision. She saw Bran in Craster's Keep with two other children, held there by your mutineers with Hodor. I'm going because there's a chance that we might save him."

"Bran!" Jon exclaimed. "I thought..."

"There are many things that you don't know yet. The world still thinks that Bran and Rickon are dead," Robb said. "They're safer assumed dead, that's for sure. We have to make sure that Bran is alive and have him somewhere safe. If we can find Bran, we can find Rickon for sure."

"Alright, you can come," Jon said. "But you can't slow us down. We wouldn't wait for you if you do."

"Slow you down?" Robb asked. "Perhaps you won't be able to keep up with me."

50000 spears.

Did Dorne really have 50000 spears?

If Dorne really had that many soldiers, how did they feed them all? Unlike the Reach, which was fertile and rich, Dorne was nothing but desert and a few oases between said deserts. Their population was also one of the fewest in Westeros. So how was it possible for Dorne to have such a great army?

Those questions swarmed in Tyrion Lannister's head as the ship navigated through the Narrow Sea from Blackwater Bay to Sunspear. He did not get it at all.

First and foremost, Dorne was well-known to be the most neutral of all regions. They had only fought by the Mad King's side during Robert's Rebellion because of Princess Elia's marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen. If they had a choice, Dorne would never participate in any of the wars in Westeros. However, this time around, House Martell had made the first move by marrying Sansa Stark. For all she was, Sansa was the key to the North and the Martells had the foresight to marry her to Oberyn. What made them do it? He did not know.

What he knew was that Sansa blossomed under Oberyn Martell and that saucy paramour of his. Just shortly after marrying Oberyn, she had become more confident, standing tall in court, a thing which she had never done before. Sansa had always been strong, but she had masked her strength when Joffrey was alive. After she became a Dornish princess, she cast off that mask and even dared to face Cersei head-on openly albeit silently.

A shiver went through Tyrion's spine, if Sansa should ever return to Winterfell. Would she be known as Princess Sansa Stark of the North and of Dorne if that ever happened? A Dornish alliance with the North frightened him, and he knew that it gave his father more than a few goosebumps than he cared to acknowledge. It was why he was on the ship on the first place.

Robb Stark had forty thousand men, and if Dorne did have fifty thousand, it would mean that their numbers would be greater than the current Lannister-Tyrell alliance. Of course, numbers alone did not dictate victory, but Robb Stark was getting more and more experienced and the Martells... genius in war was in their blood.

For the sake of his family's survival, he hoped that everything went on smoothly in Dorne.

"What's going to go wrong?" Bronn asked him as he moped on the deck the day they were due to arrive in Sunspear. "You'll see the little dove again, nab your niece and her betrothed back to King's Landing and call it a day."

"What if she's not there?" Tyrion asked. "My father will split the army and charge towards Sunspear. What if Robb Stark's actually in the Riverlands, lying in wait for this moment?"

Bronn shrugged. "I wouldn't think so," he said. "The lad doesn't seem to be any sort like your father. If Lord Varys says that he's in the North, he's in the North."

"I don't even understand why the Dornish chose Sansa for a bride," Tyrion said. "Her aunt Lyanna was the cause of Robert's Rebellion and now they parade her niece like a rare jewel."

"You know, you've always liked her," Bronn said. "You're just sore that the Red Viper got to her first."

"I most certainly do not," Tyrion shot back, almost shocked. "She's still a girl."

"By the looks of how the Prince and his paramour held her when they were back at King's Landing? I don't think so."

Tyrion decided that there would be no benefit for him if he continued the conversation. He took a large gulp of wine from his cup and looked towards the sea. He could already see Castle Sunspear. He did not know if his arrival in Dorne would be announced by his father, or if the Martells would be there, or in their famous Water Gardens. With the amount of uncertainty that surrounded them, he could never be sure. The one thing that he was sure of was that Dorne was hot. The air was dry and the sun beat upon them.

"Tell me, Bronn, how would you take Sunspear if you had a great host under your command?" Tyrion asked Bronn.

"I won't," Bronn said. "This place is a fucking desert and the Dornish know their lands. The only way to do it was to make it an inside job," Bronn answered. "Have the Dornish hand Dorne to you."

"That would be the last thing that happened," he said. "Dorne's noble houses are unfalteringly loyal to House Martell. They're so far away from anyone else for anyone to hold sway on them." The Dornish houses also grew rich together with the Martells, foregoing trade with their counterparts in Westeros, but directly dealing with traders in the Free Cities, given their proximities to Lys, Volantis and even Myr. "On the other hand, one reason why they're so close to one another is that they've been fucking each other over in every manner possible that they're practically family."

Knowing that they could well lose their heads if Tyrion had said those last words within the earshot of any Dornishman, Bronn laughed and laughed. "You'll be fine out there," Bronn reassured Tyrion. "In most ways, you live like them too. You drink like them, you fuck like them... You'll practically a brother to them."

"I was actually counting on that," Tyrion said, thanking Bronn for reminding him. "The plan's to go into Castle Sunspear half-drunk, with two beautiful women at either side of me... That's... the stupidest idea I've ever come up with."

"Could've fooled me though," Bronn said. "Ah, don't get your smallclothes in a twist. You've always had a good plan, right? Just go along with whatever you have in that little head of yours and you'll be fine. You've escaped worse things before..."

Tyrion sighed. "That's the thing I'm afraid of," he said. "You see, that's my secret: I never had a plan." He had always, always played things by ear. He was never one to plot and simmer, but was always a reactionary man. In that respect, he admitted that he was more like Jaime and Cersei. Cersei would always look at situations like a chessboard. She would brood for hours and hours, wondering what her opponents' next move may be. The thing about Cersei was that she always guessed wrong. She never could get a good grasp of any situation she was in because she was always on the offensive, never thinking about the motivations of others.

"Well, you'll just have to continue rolling with it, I suppose," Bronn said, looking out into the wide, open water. "Well, would you look at that? These people really do like to have a good time."

"What?" Tyrion asked Bronn, due to his height, he could not see much over the railing of the deck. "What do you see?"

"A man's fucking two girls right there on the beach," he said. "That lucky bastard. I've got to hand it to ya, the Dornish do have their own particular style."

Tyrion heaved a great sigh. He had no interest in what other people did. "Well, I guess we'll be at port soon. I'd best get ready to see the Martells."

"You aren't watching this?" Bronn asked.

"Nope, enjoy the show, though!"

"Alright..."

What Tyrion did not know that one of the girls he saw had red hair that looked like fire, her skin taking a slight copper glaze, a sign that she had been born with very fair skin. Bronn had seen many blondes, many girls with dark hair, but very, very few redheads. The last time he saw one, in all honesty, was during Tyrion's trial by combat, where he swore the Queen would have wanted her dead instead of the Mountain.

But... Tyrion did not need to know that. He would just watch as the show unfolded. It wasn't every day to see one of the most beautiful women in Westeros being fucked by both her husband and his paramour on the beach. Or was it?

HAN: Will Robb and Jon find Bran, Jojen and Meera? Stick around to find out!

I like to think that if Robb really did live to see the end of the war, he'd be the nicest guy to Jon's friends just because they took care of him and stopped him from being killed (that dreaded episode notwithstanding).

I also do like the fact that Tyrion has somewhat of a big crush on Sansa. Shae saw it in the series, Bronn knew it too..

That being said, Bronn was just being naughty.

Enjoy!

P.S: This chapter's pop culture reference goes to the first Avengers film.