Chapter 31

Everra giggled- it was an innocent sound, like that of a normal, happy child. Her green eyes gleamed as she stared across the beautiful landscape, a small squeal escaping her throat. She was at the top of a mountain, her chest heaving from exhaustion, her small frame nearly doubled over but she was happy that she had made it.

She could see the tall looming, red castle and felt as though it could touch the skies. The moat glistened against the dull red of the ground, which has misshapen patches of dying grass randomly placed throughout the area. A peaceful breeze swept over her suddenly and she shivered before quickly beaming at the sight of a tall, beautiful woman with kind brown eyes walking towards her, holding the front of her skirts.

"Bravo little Eve," her mother said, clapping her hands together, a smile appearing on her lips.

Everra giggled once more, before reaching for her mother's hand and squealing, "I did it mother! Did you see?"

Her mother laughed at her words and bent down until she was at her eye level, "Yes, indeed I did my darling daughter."

They stood there, giggling for a while before Everra looked down and frowned at her feet, her green eyes wide with worry, "Mother, my new boots." She lifted her skirts to show her mother the mud stained boots, her hands nearly shaking with fear.

"Shh," her mother said soothingly, "It'll be alright darling one."

"But they were just given to me by Lord Edwin for my name day," Everra muttered, her black curls blowing in her face.

"I'm sure Lord Edwin will not be offended," her mother said brightly, staring at her softly and grabbed her hands in hers, "If anything he will be flattered that his future liege Lady is wearing his gift."

"You really think so?' Everra asked hopefully, her voice small.

Her mother nearly laughed at her words and patted her hair gently, "I know so. Come on, little one, I have one more thing I must give you."

"But mother," Everra exclaimed, "My name day was two moons ago."

Her mother shook her head at her and squeezed her small hand, "It wasn't ready for you then, little Eve."

Everra glanced back at the castle once again, her young face looking suddenly very solemn— too solemn for a child to ever be. She did not move to follow her mother, too captivated by the sight to move.

When her mother realised she was not following her she stopped in her footsteps and turned back to look at her daughter. She walked back to her slowly, a frown appearing on her face once she saw Everra's solemn expression.

"What is it, little one?" she asked, her voice suddenly grave.

Everra gulped loudly and began to fiddle with her hands and muttered, "Is that really going to be mine one day mother?"

Her mother glanced up at the castle, her expression unreadable.

"Yes, indeed it is. It will be, one day," her voice was reserved and for a moment it briefly sounded as though she was speaking to Everra's father.

Everra nearly winced at her tone, desperate for her happy, loving mother to return to her.

"Come along now," she commanded coldly, "Let us move on."

Everra gulped.

One week had passed since Robb and Everra's argument in his tent and time had not made their animosity weaken. They both practically ignored one another at councils, the only time Everra spoke to him with something other than passiveness was when Robb announced that he would participate in the battle. She had stared at him for a few torturous moments before muttering 'As you command, your grace'. It sounded as though she was mocking him, not being submissive. As the look that had appeared in his eyes as she said it spoke volumes.

The time had finally come for them to leave the Wastelands and head to the east, towards RedRun. All of the materials were prepared, as well as the men all that was left was for them to finally leave.

Young bird was not coming with her, she needed someone to remain with the other lords whilst they campaigned for Casterly Rock. He had protested loudly when she told him of her plans and questioned her as to why he and not Jon was staying.

Everra had not answered him and merely stated that though she appreciated his loyalty, her word was final.

Nearly a year had passed since the beginning of the war, the longest year of her adult life. She doubted that any time of her life moving forward would be as long— as torturous as this one. She preferred the freedom of Essos, the exoticness of the lifestyle but that did not mean she would leave her home. In Westeros there was a system as to how everything worked, it may have not been one many wanted to admit but it was a system nonetheless. A system which she knew how to play. Survival.

Everra looked around the empty tent once more, Andromache at her side. Her chest felt like stone, as though the inescapable burden that had been thrust upon her shoulders had finally begun to sink under its weight.

Her green eyes were contemplative as she sent one final glance around the short space, before turing on her heel and walking away. She was bombarded by the sound of horses neighing loudly, the clatter of swords being arranged, along with spears and arrows, the stomping of her soldiers feet. It was the sound of battle, of the stark red spilt on their swords, of the dead bodies beneath their feet, of sobbing mothers, sisters, brothers, fathers and wives. It was the sound of impending death and she welcomed it because that was the rhythm that she knew best.

Sigils of dire wolves and panthers filled the air, a mixture of black, red and blue. Her sword suddenly felt heavy against her leg, the knives up her sleeves suddenly becoming glaringly more apparent. She could hear the distant sound of either Ghost or Grey wind growling and Andromache began to purr back, the purr deepening into a growl. Though instead of sounding like a threat, it sounded as though she was joining them, helping them send off their masters as well as hers.

A slight breeze suddenly filled the air, rustling her hair and whipping through the air. Everything seemed to be heightened, the smell of the air, the colours around her, the sound almost as if her body was absorbing all signs of life that it could in preparation for the impending doom lying ahead. The calm before the storm.

Everra tensed at the feeling of a cool hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at the man but was taken aback by the sight of Lady Catelyn staring at her. Just as she was about to open her mouth, she looked into the older woman's eyes and understood that this was a conversation to be had in private.

She wordlessly gestured towards the tent she just exited and Catelyn nodded, her eyes grave. Everra stepped into the tent, the sounds from outdoors almost instantly muffled.

Once she had walked to the far side of the tent, she turned to face her, watching her expectantly.

Catelyn's eyes did not falter as she stared at her fiercely, though her hands clasped together in front of her and her thumbs began to twiddle together, a sign of her nervousness.

"My lady?" Everra asked, not bothering to mask her impatience, "You wished to talk to me?"

Catelyn nodded at her, looking down before speaking, "I wanted to wish you well before you left, my lady, riding into battle is no easy feat."

Everra nearly frowned at her but managed to refrain herself from doing so and chose her next words carefully, "While I appreciate the sentiment Lady Catelyn, his grace will be accompanying me into battle, surely you want to be with him instead? After all— forgive me if I appear rude, my lady— he may die, same as me."

Catelyn's eyes lay firmly on the ground and she did not respond to her statement. It was then a wave of understanding hit Everra and she looked at the older woman intently, her green eyes showing nothing of her inner thoughts.

"You do not want him to come, do you?" she asked and the words seemed to awaken the older woman, as she snapped her head up to stare her forcefully.

"Yes," Catelyn agreed, her voice icy, "I don't want him to accompany you to RedRun."

Everra felt a small spark of anger erupt in her stomach as she snapped, "He's not a child any more, he's a king. All of these men have or had mothers and fathers who did not have the authority or wealth to control whether or not their sons got shipped off to war—"

"This is not because I'm afraid of him dying!" Catelyn burst out passionately, her blue eyes wild, "If I were to receive a gold coin for the amount of times my son has been put in harm's way I would be richer than all the houses in Westeros combined. This is not because I am afraid of him dying, I am always afraid of him being killed, every moment of everyday since we went to war with the Lannisters."

"Then why are you here?" Everra asked coldly.

Catelyn deflated at her words, her blue eyes losing their wild gleam and suddenly grew solemn as she spoke, "I do not know what happened that night that Lord Edwin died, though I assume that what I was told was a part of the truth." At Everra's blank gaze she quickly added, "I do not expect to hear the truth of what happened anytime soon, all I know is that ever since that night my son, my firstborn changed. For the worse. When you first came into our lives— into this war I knew that you would change him, I just hoped it would be for the better."

"I have—"

"Don't deny it," Catelyn interrupted, "I saw the both of you the other day, it looked as though you two were moments away from killing each other."

"Every adult has an argument," Everra said finally, still looking impassive.

Catelyn sighed loudly, rubbing at the space between her eyebrows, "My son is acting as though he has something to prove—"

"With all due respect my lady, he does have something to prove," Everra interrupted, "He is the most inexperienced of the leaders in terms of warfare and everything else I might add. Though he has won a few battles, there are many who claim they were mere strokes of luck. He took all of Westeros by surprise with his decisive wins against Tywin Lannister—do not misunderstand me— but those are not enough. He needs to win the war and to do so he must defeat both Stannis and Tywin."

"I am not arguing with that my lady," Catelyn said, her eyes now pleading with her to understand, to listen, "I am merely stating that he's not trying to prove something to them, he is trying to prove something to you."

Everra tensed at her words slightly, her eyes narrowing, "That is not true."

"He will die if he goes to battle!" Catelyn exclaimed, her voice rising, "And then all of this will be over, all of this death and destruction will have been for nought. The north will be ruined, your home will be destroyed, my daughter— my family will be hunted and slaughtered. The northern armies will be obliterated, as well as yours, if he dies and he will. Because he is not acting like the man I know him to be, he is acting like a boy with something to prove and with that comes recklessness. And recklessness in battle comes with death, you know this as well as I."

Everra shifted on her feet slightly, her frustration rising under her skin, "So then what do you suggest we do? Hmm? Stroll up to him and tell him not to go? He'll never willingly stay behind, you know this as well as I do."

Catelyn looked grim as she responded, "Who said it had to be willingly?"

Everra stared at her for a few moments, her eyes widening with realisation, "You wish to poison the King?"

"Not poison," Catelyn insisted, her voice desperate, "Merely subdue him long enough for you to leave."

Everra raised an eyebrow at her and sighed, rubbing a hand across her face, "Well do you have any sort of concoction for you or me to give him?"

Catelyn seemingly withdrew into herself, her back straightening, "No."

"Do you have anything we can give him that might subdue him for a while?"

"No."

Everra straightened her back, her detachment returning, "Then let us forget that this conversation ever took place."

"Nightshade!" Catelyn burst out, her voice pleading, "A few drops of nightshade in his drink shall do the trick."

Everra frowned at her, before asking, "Do you happen to have any on you?"

"No," Catelyn admitted, "But I know where we can get it."

Everra walked calmly towards the battered tent, ignoring all the bows she received from the soldiers who noticed her presence. She paused only for a brief moment before entering, her back straight.

She was immediately met with the sound of low groans and moans, blood stained cloth's scattered the floor, along with puss and some severed limbs. It was a sight that many would cower at but Everra did not flinch and merely stood calmly, waiting for the healers attention. When the woman turned to look at her, she did not seem startled or surprised and merely stood and walked towards her.

"I wish to speak to you in a more private place, if you please."

The healer nodded at her and moved to leave the tent with Everra at her heels. They entered a smaller one directly opposite the one Everra originally entered. This one had small vials scattered all over, needles, cloth and skin seemingly covering all of the space.

"As you know by now I am going into battle," Everra started, her hands clasping together, "And if I lose and Stannis captures me. . . my fate will be gruesome as we both know many women caught in battles are. I wish too. . . obtain a substance that will help me if I am stripped of my weapons and my men are killed. I have learned that essence of nightshade should work, should it not?"

The healer nodded at her solemnly, turning around to search for a vial in the clutter. Everra only had to wait a few moments before she placed a small vial in her hand, her head looking downwards.

"Thank you," Everra muttered, clothing the vial in her hands, "Your co-operation is most appreciated.I trust that you won't tell anyone of this discussion?"

The healer stayed silent, her body shrunken into herself, her back hunched. She glanced up momentarily at Everra, her eyes blank and lifeless. Everra noticed the way she swallowed uncomfortably and she felt a tiny sliver of pity form in her throat.

"Your tongue was cut out wasn't it?"She asked bluntly, watching as the healer stiffened but nodded nonetheless.

"Was it Joffrey?"

Another nod.

Everra's eyes narrowed as she spoke, "Thank you."

"Did you get it?" Catelyn asked hurriedly, walking over towards her.

Everra nodded grimly and reached for the vial which she had shoved up her sleeve.

"Can we trust that the healer won't talk?" Catelyn asked.

Everra nodded and replied, "Yes."

Catelyn's shoulders seemed to sag in relief at this, her face losing some of it's grief.

"Remember the plan?" Everra asked.

Catelyn nodded solemnly, her relief vanishing instantly.

Everra swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat, her eyes glancing down at the vial in her hands.

"Three drops?"

"Three drops."

"All right then," she said impassively, tucking the vial back into her sleeve, "We've got a king to subdue."

Everra walked into the tent calmly, her eyes landing immediately on the sight of Robb's back. He was leaning against the table, his shoulders hunched up to his ears and she could hear his distant murmuring.

"Your grace," she announced, clasping her hands together.

Robb jumped at the sound of her voice and turned to look at her, his blue eyes widening in surprise before growing cold at the sight of her.

"You wish to speak with me my lady?" he asked coldly, "I thought you would be preparing to leave as we are leaving quite soon."

Everra nodded at him and took a few step's forward into the tent.

"Indeed you are right, your grace but I thought it would be best if you and I talked before we left."

Robb visibly stiffened at this, his blue eyes growing colder and more bitter with every word that came out of her mouth.

"What do you wish to discuss?" he asked, almost accusingly, "How you are a better ruler than me? How impatient and emotional I am? About how I will be used and played with for the rest of my life. Please, Please tell me what you wish to discuss my lady because I think we've both said everything that needs to be said. I rule my men and you listen to whatever woman or man told you to come and destroy my family."

Everra stood silently as he ranted on, her expression cool yet her eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm not sure what I did could be forgiven by any man, woman or child," she says gently, "But I didn't do what I did because I wanted to be forgiven. I made my choices because I wanted you to live. I know that you don't understand my choices—"

"Then help me understand!" Robb burst out, his eyes fierce. "Maybe if you told me something about you I would understand why you did this. To me, to my father, to my sisters and mother to your brother. Our brother. And I don't want to know as a lover or a friend, I want to know as your King. I have the right to know."

Everra walked up to him, until they were so close their breaths mingled together. She stared him in the eyes, "Your right, you do have the right to know but that isn't how the world works, Robb. Things do not function based on what is right."

"We could die in a few days," he says instead, his blue eyes solemn.

"We could die today," she retorted, "But we keep on fighting anyway."

His lips twitched at this and then she took a step back from him, gesturing towards the table.

"Lets have a drink, shall we?" She said, walking towards the cups and jugs.

"I thought you said you didn't drink wine," Robb commented, his voice still slightly reserved.

"I don't," she replied smoothly, "But seeing as we might be leading our men into slaughter I think a drink won't do us any harm." At this reluctance, she urged him, gesturing to a chair, "Sit down Robb, I'm not going to kill you."

She poured the drink with her back to him and grabbed a hold of the two cups, walking towards the chair opposite his and taking a seat across him.

"Let's make a toast," she suggested, sliding the cup over towards him.

Robb nodded at her and replied, "Lets."

She grabbed a hold of her cup and raised it towards him.

"To not dying?" She said, watching as a small laugh left his mouth.

"To not dying," he agreed, raising his cup as well.

She watched as he brought the cup to his mouth and slowly lifted her own to her lips, taking a small sip. They watched each other for a moment and Everra knew then that even though Robb might be well on his way to forgiving her, he would never forgive her for this.

He twitched suddenly, his mouth turning into a slight grimace, "The wine tastes different."

"Does it?" she asked innocently, taking another sip from her glass.

"Yes," he said, frowning down at his cup, "It tastes bitter, not sweet as it usually does."

"Really?" Everra commented, "I hadn't noticed."

At this point his shoulders began to slag slightly, his eyes beginning to droop, "Yes, quite strange," he muttered, placing his cup on the table.

"I don't feel. . ." he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

Everra had now moved towards him, crouching down in front of him, "Robb?" she asked.

"It's almost as though someone slipped Nightshade into my wine," he muttered amusedly, looking down at his hands.

Everra did not move.

He noticed this at once, his blue eyes widening with betrayal, "You poisoned me?" he whispered, clutching his throat.

Everra shook her head and reached forward, grasping his hands and clutched them tightly when he tried to pull them away, "Your just going to sleep for a little while."

Thought that did nothing to calm him and he tried to raise his voice, "Guards!" he whispered weakly, struggling to stay awake.

She watched him struggle for a few moments and felt his resistance beneath her fingers begin to fade.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, as she stared into his eyes.

Everra knew in that moment that this was a betrayal that he would never forgive. He slumped down in his seat, unconscious, his blue eyes drifting shut.

She looked at him for a moment, taking in his sleeping form. From his lips to his nose, to his eyebrows she gazed at them all, drinking him in for what she knew might be the final time. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead before rising and knocking her hand on the table thrice.

Catelyn entered the tent, abandoning all of her composure as she rushed over towards Robb.

"How long should we wait here for?" Everra asked quietly.

When Catelyn responded it sounded as though she was far away, "A few more minutes, I think. I sent the guards to go run an errand when you entered the tent, as far as anyone knows I was with you the whole time. And—"

"They would never accuse a mother of poisoning her son," Everra finished for her.

"Yes," Catelyn agreed quietly, gulping loudly, "They wouldn't."

The silence that followed afterwards was unlike anything Everra had been through before. As though her surroundings were shrinking around her, closing in on her so she would be unable to move.

"We did the right thing," Catelyn stated, though it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than her.

Everra did not answer, before walking towards the jug and quietly pouring another glass of wine. She then walked towards the pulled out chairs and pulled out another one beside her own and gave the cup to Catelyn.

"Have a few sips of that," she commanded, "Then place it where the other chair is pulled out."

Catelyn watched her warily as she moved and though she looked reluctant, she took a few sips from the cup.

Meanwhile Everra walked over towards Robb and crouched beside him once more, her eyes taking in his position. She rose until she was at level with his shoulder and then grasped his right arm— his drinking arm— and pulled it upward onto the table, letting it hang there limply. She then moved from his left side to his right side and placed his cup by his limp arm. She grasped onto his hand gently and opened it, placing the cup in his open palm. She then gently let go of his hand, pushing at his arm gently so that the cup rolled over, the dark red wine spilling across the table, onto the ground or on Robb.

She looked at Catelyn, whom had now taken a seat in the pulled out chair, still holding her cup tightly. Everra moved to sit down next to her and muttered, "Perhaps it is time you yell now."

Catelyn nodded and sighed and Everra took one brief moment to prepare herself for the upcoming chaos.

"Guards!" Catelyn yelled, violently pushing her cup of wine onto the table and rushing to Robb's side.

Everra had stood up as well, her eyes widening with false panic.

"Guards!" She yelled as well, rushing to Robb.

"The King has collapsed."

"The attack on Stannis must continue," Everra stated loudly, a few hours after Robb had been found.

All the Lords had assembled together to decide on whether or not to proceed with the attack.

"His grace would not want us to risk the lives of innocents simply because of his poor heath—"

"Poor health?" A lord asked gapingly, "He has been poisoned! Put into a deep sleep!"

"I am well aware of that," Everra replied cooly, "I was there if you do not recall."

Silence ensued before Roose Bolton broke it, "Lady Everra is right, we must leave today as planned."

Everra glanced at him, to find him already looking at her, his blue eyes as impenetrable as hers.

"Aye," Lord Greatjon said, though he looked reluctant.

"Aye," echoed another and another, until only a few Lords had remained stubbornly silenced. Jon looked wary beside her, his face pale.

"Aye," he muttered quietly.

Everra nodded in satisfaction before announcing, "Then I will leave at once. Good luck to all of you, if I do not return."

"The sentiment is returned my lady," Lady Maege Mormont replied, nodding at her.

Everra nodded back in respect and listened as the other Lords returned the sentiment.

"Farewell," she said and turned to walk out of the tent before pausing to wait for Jon, whom had nodded at the Lords and began to follow her.

Once she was sure he was joining her, she left the tent, her heart hammering in her chest all the while.

The sun was still high in the sky when Everra, Jon and another ten thousand soldiers left the base camp towards RedRun. The soldiers had grown quiet and fearful, though the Unsullied remained as solemn as usual. The only ordinary sounds was that of Andromache and Ghost, whom had both taken to staying nearby their masters.

It would take them a few days to reach RedRun and when they did Jon would take a thousand soldiers with him to the Blood Mountains and sneak in through the secret passage. Though this all relied on the hope that Stannis had not yet breached RedRun. . . if he had. . . Everra nearly winced at the thought and she clutched the rains of her horse tighter.

Though if she considered her nerves to be bad, nothing could have prepared her for Jon, whom looked as though he had just seen death knocking at his door. She heard him mutter under his breathe constantly and if she listened long enough it almost sounded like a prayer.

Everra almost felt a twinge of guilt when she heard this, knowing full well that Anna would die even if they managed to defeat Stannis. Sometimes she caught herself wishing selfishly that Anna would already be dead by the time they reached RedRun, so she would not have to do it herself and be faced with Jon's grief.

On the Eve before reaching RedRun, Everra lay in her tent, unable to sleep. She remembered her mother's words from long ago, about how RedRun would one day be hers and how her eyes had grown cold and solemn. For one brief, minuscule moment, Everra nearly missed her mother. Nearly missed her kind eyes and gentle words, nearly missed the promise of what she might have been if her mother had not died.

Perhaps she might have been a better person but Everra knew that being a better person in this world meant that you died too soon, murdered somehow by their own foolish delusions.

"Mother where are we going?" Everra asked, giggling.

Her mother's hands were placed firmly over her eyes as she guided her to her late name day present.

"Shh," she said, "We are almost there Little Eve."

Everra nodded and shut her mouth obediently, glad that her mother had grown out of her depression.

Everra knew they were within the castle grounds, could hear the familiar sounds of the blacksmith working, of swords clanging together. Could feel the familiar feeling of the ground beneath her feet as she walked towards her unknown destination. There was another turn as they walked and Everra felt slightly dizzy at being guided somewhere, unable to see.

"Ready?" her mother asked, whispering in her ear.

Everra nodded enthusiastically, excited to be able to finally see her surroundings once more.

"Ready," she said, nearly squealing.

Her mother then slowly removed her hands from her eyes, to reveal a large circle filled with a dark substance, in the middle of one of the back gardens. RedRun was not known for being able to grow crops or flowers easily due to its strange ground and it was only on the extremely rare occasion that anyone managed to see health, earthy soil.

Everra gasped as she noticed it and ran from her mothers arms towards the large circle, her green eyes wide. She bent down on her knees and gingerly stretched out her hand towards the unfamiliar substance and nearly withdrew her hand as she touched it. It felt almost like mud except softer and less wet, almost like grain.

"Mother is this soil?" she asked.

Though she could not see it, her mother nodded and kneeled beside her, gently placing her hands on top of hers.

"Yes, indeed it is my darling."

Everra frowned down at the soil, her head tilting to the side, "Shouldn't there be a tree or a flower in it though?"

Her mother laughed softly, and lifted one of her hands to pat Everra's head, "But there is my darling, there is a tree, though it is very, very little.'"

Everra suddenly looked confused and then bounced excitedly as she spoke, "Are we doing to grow it mother?"

"Yes, yes we are," her mother agreed, smiling wildly.

Everra squealed loudly and launched herself into her mothers arms, saying thank you all the while.

"What kind of a tree is it?" she asked after awhile.

"Your just going to have to wait and see, aren't you?" Her mother replied playfully, "That way I'll know you'll always take care of it, just to see it grow."

"My lady?" Jon asked solemnly, his anxiousness evident. Everra turned to look at him, at his armour and stricken face and felt a fierce feeling grow in her stomach.

"Let us go talk to the men," she said, brushing past him to swing onto her horse.

They were so close to RedRun, to the point where they would separate. A guard would open the passage door for Jon and his men and then chaos would break loose.

Once Everra was safely on her horse, she rode it out to look at the men and among the sea of Unsullied she saw the fearful look of some soldiers faces and in that moment she did not care for what house they fought for or came from, all she knew that some of them would die for her home today.

"All of us on this battlefield are different," she started, her eyes going over every face in the crowd,

"But we have two things that are the same. All of us have killed, some of us have enjoyed it more than most, others have killed less than others. Some of you have wives, others of you do not. Some of you have children, illegitimate or not it does not matter. We all come from different families but we all have one home. Our home. Your woman, your children are being attacked, raped, murdered. I'm not going to ask you to fight for me, I'm asking you to fight for your home. Fight for your men, your women, your children. Show these men no mercy because they won't show you any. For all the blood these men have spilt, of our people," her voice raised into a yell and as she looked into their fearful eyes, a warm, fierce feeling rose in her throat, "return the favour because blood must have blood!"

They yelled in return, their fear momentarily forgotten.

She turned to look at Jon, whose fear had vanquished in favour of a steel determination and said to him, "Good luck."

He smiled at her weakly and answered, "You as well, my lady."

In that moment all she saw was her mother's brown eyes, her kind smile and a lump formed in her throat.

"Jon—" she started, her voice catching.

"My lady?" he asked, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"Don't die."

"I'll try my lady," he responded, before turning on his horse and galloping away, waving his hand over his head to summon his men.

That may be the last time you see him again her mind whispered.

They waited in the cold, waited for the fire to light on the tallest tower and as evening slipped into night and the stars seemingly shined stronger and stronger, Everra could feel her hands begin to sweat in between her fingertips. A fear which she had not felt since her childhood nearly overcame her as she waited, along with 9,000 other men.

"Come on Jon," she whispered into the night.

Her eyes scanned the view once more, waiting for that red flame to appear.

He's dead, her mind whispered, they're all dead.

Robb.

She shook her head of her thoughts and scanned the view once more and just as she was about to give up, a small, bright light began to shine from the top of the highest tower and the lump that had formed in her throat quickly dissolved as the flamed moved from right to left.

"He did it," she whispered.

"Soldiers of RedRun, Unsullied, Northmen," she yelled, grabbing their attention, "Attack!"

Her yell echoed off into the night, as both Unsullied, northmen and RedRun men came barrelling down the castle to meet their fate.

Anna, his mind seemed to whisper as he shoved his sword into a man's stomach, blood splattering onto his face. He yanked his sword out of the dead mans stomach, his eyes scanning the courtyard for a glimpse of her familiar yellow hair.

Eleven.

He had not seen her down below in the dungeons where the other women and children had been placed, had not seen her when the guard opened the passage door.

Anna.

At some point in the battle, the gate had been opened and now both armies under the dire wolf and panther sigil fought against those under the stag both inside and outside the castle. Jon swung his sword over his head and skilfully managed to slice another soldiers throat as he stalked forward, another dead body falling to the ground.

Twelve.

He ran down a flight of stairs and glanced back at the castle door, which still remained firmly sealed.

Screams filled the air, of pain and anguish, of power and rage and grief and Jon winced at the awful sound.

Another soldier attacked him and he swiftly dodged to the side, slamming his sword against his.

Right step, left step, he repeated internally, Youngbird's words echoing in his mind, snap, forward step, twirl, stab. The man fell to the ground, lifeless.

Thirteen.

Smoke filled the night sky, the yellow and red flames small but burning. Agonising screams erupted near him and he turned to see a man on fire, running around aimlessly as he burnt.

"Jon," a voice said, grasping onto his shoulder.

"My lady?" he asked in disbelief, grasping onto her hand.

Her usually beautiful face was smudged with blood and a small cut at the top of her cheek. Jon was suddenly aware of his own injuries and quickly grabbed a hold of her hand and ran towards a small corner.

"Are you alright?" he yelled, in order to be heard over the noise.

She nodded at him, holding onto her blood stained sword.

"Have you seen Stannis?" she yelled at him.

Jon shook his head and was about to reply before she yelled, "Move!"

He did, startled and watched in amazement as she swiftly moved forward, her sword swinging to the side. He had never seen her fight in battle before and was amazed at the sight. It was as if she were a panther herself, her movements sleek and smooth— graceful even as she quickly sliced the man's throat.

"If Stannis dies," she yelled at him, "this is all over!"

And with that, she ran from him, her long, pinned back raven locks bouncing on her shoulders as she did so.

Thirty She thought, as the man collapsed in front of her.

She quickly dodged to the side as another man's sword swung forward and she brought her sword up to meet his. They stayed locked together for a few moments before she darted to the side, sliding her sword upwards to slice his stomach.

Thirty one

She whirled around to gaze upon the bloody courtyard, her eyes scanning both the living and the dead to look for the one man she'd been looking for.

No, no, no she thought, as her eyes landed on tall men, short men, tanned and pale but not Stannis.

Never him.

She ran around the corner to a more deserted area of the battle, her muscles beginning to tire from the hours of fighting. She coughed violently, her shoulders shaking from the force. She wiped her mouth as she stared around her and all of a sudden everything came to a slow. She saw men fall to the ground, their eyes still widened with fear even death. She saw the blood of innocent men splatter against the floor and the helplessness she felt growing inside her blossomed.

A cold metal was suddenly pressed against her neck.

"Pleasure to see you again my lady," Stannis breathed into her ear from behind.

Everra stiffened at the contact but did not answer.

She heard him sigh softly before speaking once more, the sword on her neck never wavering, "You could still join me, I was friends with your father he knew where his best interests lay. You should too."

"They don't lie with you," she hissed, slamming her elbow into his ribs and swinging her sword up to meet his.

"You will die," he warned, tightening his grip on his sword.

"We all die," she responded.

And then the rest, as they say, will go down in history.

Jon sprinted down the stairs, his chest heaving with fatigue as he tiredly searched for Anna.

"Anna!" he yelled, his brown eyes searching the crowd of fighting soldiers, "Anna!"

He turned around another corner, his eyes automatically landing on the bloody bodies on the ground. A few men were still fighting, though he had noticed that the numbers had shrunk over the hours, rapidly. What that meant he did not know.

He didn't want too.

No

No gods please no

Please

There was a sliver of yellow hair peaking from underneath another fallen corpse. It was long and a woman's he knew this.

His whole world shrunk around him, becoming unbearably small and he couldn't breathe. He felt detached from his body, as though he were looking from above and merely observing what was happening, not feeling it.

He didn't remember how he reached the body but he remembered the pain he felt on his knees as he sunk onto them. His hands shook as he shoved the other body off and—

No

He cried out, his hands immediately reaching down to pull her onto his lap, her dead eyes staring lifelessly up at him.

"I love you," he whispered, rocking back and forth, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The pain was unbearable as it tore through every inch of his body and he yelled in agony.

Make it stop it hurts, he pleaded.

To whom he did not know.

Tears leaked from his eyes as buried his face in her hair.

"I love you," he whispered.

And through the shouts of victory and the chaos around him, Jon did not move. Did not let go of her body and he sat there through the hours, as soldiers and healers came flooding through and he did not move.

He couldn't save her. . .

When Robb first saw the tall, unusually red castle he froze, his fury leaving him momentarily.

He could see fading smoke from here, could smell the burning of corpses, could see the damage to the castle and he felt his heart leap in his throat.

Was he too late? He wondered, Is she dead? Is Jon dead?

He galloped forward towards the castle, his heart pounding in his chest all the while. When they reached the opened gates, he saw some soldiers screaming on the ground in agony and he jumped off his horse, handing the reigns to a nearby guard.

He scanned the area for her, his blinding anger returning ruthlessly.

When he could not find her, he turned around and his eyes landed on Jon.

He nearly winced at the sight of his brothers blood stained face but he was more taken aback by the emptiness in his eyes, the lifelessness.

"Jon?" he asked softly, walking towards him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She's dead," Jon said and Robb's heart dropped in his chest, "Anna she's dead."

Relief fled through Robb and then guilt as he looked down at his brothers face, "I'm sorry."

He meant it as well.

Jon glanced up at him for a moment before muttering, "In the gardens."

"What?" Robb asked, momentarily confused.

"She's in the back gardens, she hasn't left since the battle was won," Jon clarified, his voice dull.

"Jon no—"

"Go," he stated firmly, not looking at him, "I suspected that you weren't poisoned anyway."

Robb cast him one last look, watching as his brother sunk into himself further, before walking up to a guard and asking him where the back gardens were. The guard gestured for him to follow, muttering 'your grace' under his breath and as he walked by Robb saw the dead and the fallen, saw their bloody corpses and with each step his anger lessened.

Something dripped on his face and as he looked up towards the sky and touched the blood on his face, he frowned, before being able to make out a spike with what he assumed was a head.

"That, your grace," the guard muttered, "Is Stannis Baratheon."

Robb's head snapped to look at him, his eyes wide.

"Did Lady Everra. . . " he drifted off, a lump forming in his throat.

"Yes," the man replied, his face suddenly defensive, "She did. It was perhaps the most bloodiest fight I have ever seen."

Robb gulped.

When they reached the gardens the guard suddenly stopped and turned to look at him, his eyes downcast.

"She has not left since the battle was over, she disappeared to the tree and hasn't come back since, your grace. I'm not too sure she ever will."

Robb nodded his thanks and watched as the guard slowly disappeared until he turned the corner, leaving Robb to move forward.

He walked around the bare courtyard, his footsteps slow and ginger, as if he were hunting and trying not to scare his prey. He walked a few step's more and emerged from behind a pillar and nearly gasped at the sight.

He was bombarded with purple— that was the first thing he saw. A tall looming, tree with purple flowers all over. He could barely see the colour of the branches, that were long and thin.

Lavender tree he realised.

Purple flowers scattered the ground and when he stepped forward he could make out a figure.

Everra.

Her back was towards him as she knelt in front of the tree, her head bowed and her hands touching the bark, as if to remind her that she was still living.

He moved closer to her, his heart heavy in his chest and though some of the flowers crunched beneath his feet, she showed no sign of being aware of his presence.

When he entered the circle where the tree grew, he looked up and was mesmerised by the sight. Disbelief growing in his veins.

"The sword is there," she said, breaking the silence.

Robb's head snapped forward to look at her, though her back was still towards him.

"If you want to kill me do it," she said softly and a defeated sigh left her mouth, "I'm not going to stop you."

Robb frowned at her and walked closer, taken aback by her defeated stance.

"I'm not going to kill you," he told her gently.

"Well perhaps you should," she snapped, lowering her hand from the bark.

Robb stood there, shocked for a few moments, not saying anything. Not knowing what to say.

She sighed once more and tilted her head upwards to look at the branches.

"I'm going to tell you a story," she started, her voice softer and more vulnerable than he had ever heard it.

Robb did not say anything and instead sat down a few steps behind her, listening to her talk, knowing that this was what she needed.

"There was once a girl born in a foreign land. In a place surrounded by rivers and markets. She lived in a big home, with rich parents and a little brother and she was happy, content," her voice drifted off for a moment and Robb could see her take a deep breathe.

She then continued on, "For years she was raised to be a perfect little girl, a noble girl, who played the harp and sang and knew dances like the back of her palm. But not everything in her world was perfect. There were men, women and children who did not speak to her, who did not look at her and had strange marks on their faces. Some had fish, others had flies, some had tears and others a circle within a circle and others with a strange hammer. She was raised to ignore these people, to pretend they do not exist and she listened in part because she was a child and in part because she was afraid of the truth."

She paused for a moment, her breath shaky, "She continued to do so for many years, until she was a young girl, just past 10 and six. Beautiful and lively, she attracted much male attention. Sometimes to her pleasure and other times to her displeasure but it was not something she could prevent. Later on, she learned it was something that older men, cruel men noticed. One day, when she was walking in the market's a man grabbed a hold of her and dragged her into a deserted alley to rape her. She fought and fought but she could not fight him, he was too strong and just as she was about to give in, the man fell, dead. Behind him stood a man, a young man with a tattoo the shape of a fish on his face. They stared at each other for a few moments, before she urged him to leave, to run and so he did. They found her later, her parents and friends, shaking but resolved. How come these people whom she pretended did not exist helped her? A man whom could have easily done the same as that man intended to do to her. She resolved to find the man and thank him but she never saw him again."

Another deep breath, "She left her home to travel to a place, far, far away where slavery was no longer allowed. This was two years laters, after years and years of convincing her parents and of training to be a healer. She was eager to heal those in pain, to help them through their suffering and luckily for her she arrived at the beginning of a war. She had seen death before, but not like that. had never heard their whimpers or their screams, had never seen their lifeless eyes, had never felt their chests stop moving. A few months into the war, she met someone. A man of noble birth whose first name, she did not know. He was handsome and honourable and had a sister and a dead brother and father that he was fighting for. And though she tried not too she fell for him. She fell in love with he way he talked, the way he loved, the way he followed his oaths. But he was married, it may have been recent but married nonetheless. That did not stop either of them and they consummated their relationship. As if things were not bad enough, she became pregnant. Telling him was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She cried and pleaded and he took her into his arms and swore that he would look after them. He swore."

She stopped for a moment to place her hands back onto the bark, her voice heavy with emotion.

"And so the months went by and she followed him discreetly from camp to camp, careful to hide her undeniable bump. At one camp she met a man, with black curled hair and wicked green eyes, who eyed her stomach with a wicked sense of malice that scared her to her very core. Her lover told her he was a sick, cruel man whom he had once quarrelled with and left it at that. The war was ending and soon he would leave, she knew this and dreaded it. Each night she prayed to all the gods she knew of to make him stay. She was a good person, kind and good hearted, she didn't deserve this pain. No one did. And so time went on, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy with her eyes and her heart blossomed with love. He was there, the father and though she knew he already had a firstborn, a true born she knew that he loved their son and she pleaded for him to take him. Please, she pleaded, you could give him a better life then I ever could. And so the war ended and her child and her love left. Two months afterwards, she came across the male with the wicked green eyes once more. Saddened and lonely, she allowed him to bed her, the emptiness inside her growing with each passing day. She had heard of the rumours surrounding the man, had heard of his inability to make his lovers with child and so when the first round of morning sickness arrives she is shocked. She tells him and he laughs at her cruelly and for the first time in her life she is truly afraid. She marries him and becomes his lady and is more miserable than she has been in her entire life. The only thing that keeps her going was her child. Her beautiful second child, whom was a girl. She was the only sense of joy in her life that she had. She was beaten, ridiculed and raped every single day of her life for four years. She was a kind person, a good, honest person whom was rewarded with cruelty. Finally one day, not even her daughter was enough. As a present her husband had given her the heads of her dead parents. So one night, she climbs to the tallest tower of her prison which she called a home and flung herself from it and plummeted to her death. She left her daughter with a monster for a father. She left her all alone, knowingly."

Her voice caught in her throat as she turned to look at him, her eyes vulnerable, "Do you understand now?" she asked him.

Robb did not answer and simply leaned forward to lean his forehead against hers.

"Your safe," he murmured.

"I'm tired."

He kissed her gently, before pulling away and tucking her head into his neck as he shifted to lean against the tree. He stroked her hair and whispered, "Go to sleep."

There they sat, Stark and Legrath beneath the Lavender tree for hours to come.

A/N Woah. . . that is by far the longest chapter I have ever written. I hoped you all liked it, I think this is my favourite chapter in this story so far. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING GUYS! YOU ARE ALL SO AMAZING! WE ARE OVER 100 REVIEWS AND 200 FOLLOWERS! THANKS SO MUCH. Until next time! :)

Fionakevin073