A/N HELLO GUYS! First off, thank you all so much for your support and your advice, it means so much to me guys. Secondly, we have exactly 3 more chapters left guys :( thank you for joining me on this journey. Thirdly, there is a lot of talk about ships in this chapter, and a lot of it is pure speculation on my part and estimating. Finally, Saint River you mentioned in your comment about what Melisandre was talking about last chapter. Well, if any of you re-read the story, especially the first few chapters, there is brief mention of a curse on the Legrath house that only one child will be born to each of the Lords. There is the second part of the 'curse', and Melisandre was about to reveal what it was before Everra hit her. It will be revealed in due time, don't worry :) Thanks again guys. Remember to review!

Until next time,

Fionakevin073

Chapter 37

In Kings Landing

Sansa yelped at the pain that coursed through her when the back of Ser Meryn's sword hit her. She stumbled over to the side, clutching at the newly bruised area when he struck again, this time on the back of her left leg. She fell down onto the ground then with a gasp of pain, and glanced up to look at Joffery, who was smirking at her. He had decided to conduct his 'punishment' in her chambers this time around, claiming that his beloved Margaery did not deserve to see such a sight. A tear swam down her cheek, and she wiped at it furiously and braced herself for his next hit.

"Enough," Joffery commanded, and Sansa was careful not to show her relief. Her auburn hair was half-stuck to her neck from sweat and she tucked a strand of it behind her ear, careful not to look too low, nor too high at Joffery. "Hmmm, Ser Meryn?" Joffery asked sadistically, and she could hear his steps grow closer to her, "Now that my uncle and grandfather are in council, dear sweet Sansa, you have no one to protect you." He grabbed a piece of her hair and tugged at it, and she could practically feel his smug smile. "So pretty," he murmured, "How, so very pretty." Sansa's heart was beating furiously in her chest, the echo's of pain long forgotten in place of fear. "Ser Meryn bring me your knife."

Sansa's heart dropped.

In the Bloodlands

Robb let their lips touch for longer than he should have. The first thoughts that course through him were, I missed this; I missed you and then what am I doing? He pulled away abruptly, a gasp escaping his lips as he took a few steps away from her. Everra was regarding him with a carefully concealed expression, and it made his blood grow cold.

"What was that?" Robb snapped at her, his blue eyes widening.

"What was what?" She taunted, her green eyes flashing with something. Robb felt his jaw tighten with frustration, and then his eyes were flashing too. "You just kissed me." It almost sounded like an accusation, as though what she did was something completely out of the blue. Robb could still feel the aftermath of it now, how fire had sprung in his veins and his stomach had tightened. Robb stared at her suspiciously as she didn't answer, and he could see her thoughts running behind her eyes. Thoughts that he could never guess; and in that moment, he was tired of trying too. He sighed loudly, and scraped a hand over his face and muttered tiredly, "You can't just. . . kiss me and make it better."

She raised an eyebrow at him, her green eyes showing just a glint of something that gave him the courage to carry on. "It doesn't work that way," He told her, letting out yet another sigh. There were a few moments of silence before she asked quietly, "Then how does this work?" Robb scoffed at that, and ran his hand through his curls, confusion and frustration crushing into one emotion that rocked him to his very core. "It doesn't," he answered, and then waved a hand between them, "I told you that I couldn't forgive you Everra. And I meant that. I still do."

Her eyes were not soft but they were not cold either, simply a mixture of both that confused him, though he hid it carefully under a defeated mask. He looked away from her to stare at the wall, and it was mere moments later that he felt her hands on his cheeks, and she turned his head to look at her. It was the first time Robb had seen something similar to gentleness in her eyes as she appraised him, and he could feel her hand caress his cheek. "I know," she admitted quietly, her eyes flickering over his face, "I wouldn't expect any different from you." The admission made his heart clench, and though he did miss her, he couldn't be with her. Not now. Not ever, truly, despite the fact that he wanted too.

She pressed her lips onto his in a gentle, chaste kiss and pulled away from him, retracting her hand. Her eyes were unreadable once more, but Robb knew that she understood, and would not pressure him to forgive her anytime soon. "Friends?" He asked, the word slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. She raised both eyebrows at him this time, and her lips curled upward in a rare smile, "As my King commands." Robb let out a hesitant chuckle before the sound quickly dissolved, and the tension between them was fragile.

"You should leave first, your grace," she told him, her eyes resting on the door behind him. Robb nodded awkwardly and moved to leave the room before stopping. "Thank you." He slipped out of the room before she could reply.

It was three days later when Everra was woken in the night by a rapid knock on her chamber door. Andromache leapt out of the bed in alarm, and began to growl softly. Everra also got out of the bed fast, and went to the wardrobe to get a robe and tied it around the middle so as to cover herself in only her night gown. She moved towards the door and opened it, and her eyes were instantly met by the flame in Lord Yullian's hand. "My lady I am sorry to disturb you so late in the night but you said to call on you when word came from King's Landing—"

"Say no more until we are in private," Everra stated, and Andromache came up to her side. She moved out of the room hurriedly and the door slammed shut behind her. "Get the King, Lady Catelyn, Prince Oberyn, Jon and the rest of the Northern Bannermen and take them to the council room." She moved to leave before his voice stopped her, "My lady Prince Oberyn is already there."

She whirled around to stare at him and snarled, "Why was he told before me?" Lord Yullian hesitated for a moment before replying, "He received news of his own." Everra frowned at that, and nodded absentmindedly before changing her mind, "Lord Yullian only summon the King, Jon and Lady Catelyn then." She could see him nod in the shadows and just as she began to move he yet again stopped her. "My lady?" It was almost a question now.

"Yes?" she asked, annoyed.

"Do you want my torch?"

Everra nearly let out a sigh at that. "No, Lord Yullian though thank you for your offer." And then she hurried down the hallway with Andromache at her heels in the darkness. Every step made her increase her speed until by the time she had finally reached the last hallway she was practically running. When she finally reached the council room she nearly flung open the door, and barged into the room which was already occupied by two.

Oberyn was sitting in a chair directly facing the door, with Ellaria wrapping her arms around him from behind. Everra saw them both jump at the sight of her, and Ellaria nearly retracted her arms from Oberyn. But what caught her eye was Oberyn himself. His face was unnaturally pale, and his dark eyes lacked their usual arrogant stare. His eyes instead looked sunken into his head, and he looked solemn, sad even. His sight was enough.

"Who died?" she demanded, and snatched the sealed piece of paper off the table. She knew that one was meant for her because it was unopened, something she quickly rectified. As she suspected, it was from Tyrion. Her eyes scanned over the message quickly, and when she reached the end of it her eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and her hands clenched the paper slightly tighter. "My condolences," she offered flatly. She could see Ellaria glare at her in shock and anger from the corner of her eye and so she turned to stare at the elder woman, her face a perfect mask. They stared at each other for a long while, before Everra returned her gaze to Oberyn.

"I take it this means your brother is joining us?" She asked, rather insensitively. Oberyn raised his dark eyes to look into her green ones, and the grief— and guilt— in them surprised her. He nodded numbly, and she could see his throat move when he swallowed. Something occurred to her in that moment, and so she placed the paper carefully onto the table and spoke, "You knew, didn't you?"

Her gaze pierced into his skin. "That's what you meant a few days ago?" she continued, "You knew your brother would join us because your nephew was sent into King's Landing." And then her voice sounded almost surprised, "You let him die." As soon as the words left her mouth Oberyn snapped. "No," he protested vehemently, "I merely thought they would hold him hostage and that would provoke Doran into joining us." His Dornish accent was so thick then he was barely understandable. Everra could have pitied him, if she didn't think his actions were rash and idiotic. "You received our message far longer than you let on," she realised, "You most likely didn't even show it to your brother. You waited until your nephew was on his way to Kings Landing before coming here by boat with your men." To his credit, Oberyn didn't deny it. Everra had to admire his willingness and determination to do whatever it took for his vengeance, but was slightly disappointed by his rashness.

"He wasn't supposed to have died. . .not there. Not. . . not so young," Oberyn muttered, and ran a hand over his face. This was really bothering him, Everra realised, he genuinely feels guilty for the death of his nephew. The realisation did not release her of her indifference but it did make her soften ever-so-slightly. She cast a glance towards Ellaria and asked her politely, "May you give my betrothed and I a moment in private before the rest arrive?" Ellaria looked as though she were about to protest before Everra quickly cut her off, "That wasn't an option." She flushed under Everra's gaze and pressed one last kiss to Oberyn's lips before hurrying out of the room. Everra knew she had to act quickly before Robb, Jon and his mother arrived, and so she strode over towards him and grasped onto his face tightly, her stare piercing into his own.

"This is not the time to mourn, Prince Oberyn. I know you feel guilty and perhaps rightfully so but you can feel guilty later alright? For now, I need you to be the vengeance seeker I've heard that you are. You can't let your emotions get a hold of you, not now, not yet. Do you hear me?" Oberyn nodded and finally— thankfully— she saw the fire return to his eyes, even if his skin still had the unhealthy look of grief. "Good," she reaffirmed, and let go of his face, and walked to the chair where she usually sat.

It was the moment that she sat down when Robb, Jon and Catelyn burst into the room.

"What happened?" Robb asked loudly.

Everra and Oberyn exchanged a quick glance before Everra leaned over and slid the opened letter across the table in his direction.

"Read for yourself, your grace," Everra told him, watching his reaction closely. Robb eyed her for a moment before nodding and snatching the paper off the paper. Jon made his way over to beside Everra, his hair tangled and black circles around his eyes. "Are you alright?' he asked her, quiet enough so only she could hear. Everra regarded her brother for a moment, and wondered whether or not he knew that Robb knew the truth. "I'm fine," she murmured, and turned her attention back towards Robb.

She didn't even glance in Catelyn's direction, though she could feel the older woman glaring a hole into her head.

If looks could kill, Everra thought. Robb's eyes widened as he reached the end of the letter, and he turned to glance at Oberyn, his eyes hooded. "I apologise for your loss." He meant it too. Everra knew he did. Oberyn nodded his thanks but didn't say anything else. At Jon's confused expression Everra clarified, "Prince Trystane is dead."

Shock fluttered through Jon's features and he offered his condolences to Oberyn with a quiet, steady voice. "My brother Doran should be sending more men our way, and more ships." Robb cast Everra a glance, and asked lowly, "How many ships do the Martells have?" It took her a few moments to reply. "Approximately forty your grace," she told him, and then glanced at Oberyn. He nodded absently and murmured in return, "I used most of them to come here."

"Fortunately enough, the Bloodlands are close to the sea but it was only by a mere miracle that those forty ships managed to land here and not be crushed. If the ships from Essos are to come, we either need to build a port— a large one or find somewhere else to dock them because the Bloodlands port is far too small."

"You managed to smuggle 16,000 soldiers into Westeros without anyone noticing," Oberyn said in an accusing voice, "How did you do so without a port?"

Everra cast him a glance and answered roughly, "I did that over the course of six months, Prince Oberyn, I had time on my side. We don't. We've been sitting here idly by for close to half a year, we need to move or they will."

Robb was watching her closely, his face taunt before his eyes widened with realisation. "Lady Everra," he began, and quickly manoeuvred around the room to get a map and unroll it onto the table, "We have not yet heard back from Dragon Stone but it has a large port and it is close to Kings Landing. If we can get Dragonstone on our side then we will have the port."

"The only problem that remains is getting them on our side, your grace. Selyse Baratheon is stubborn, she will very reluctantly join us. We did defeat her husband and practically wiped out his troops in the Battle of the Blood, your grace."

"Precisely," Robb returned and placed his finger on Dragonstone, "She had few supporters since her husband took most of their men with him. The men that he took from Renly are either dead, prisoners or returned home. She is sitting on one of the most strategic castles in the whole of Westeros, and to us, arguably the most strategic."

"Your grace," Catelyn started, her blue eyes dark with worry, "What will you offer her in return for the castle?"

Robb sighed for a moment before replying, "I will make her daughter a princess by marrying her to Rickon."

"The girl is said to be cursed Robb," Catelyn protested, "With grey scale scars—"

"Having scars on her face does not make her a monster," Robb swiftly replied and glanced at Everra and Jon.

"If she doesn't agree?" Oberyn asked, and he looked at Robb with fascination and with a glint in his eyes that indicated he was impressed.

"Then we take it by force," Robb replied.

The letter was written, sealed and sent to Dragon Stone within the hour after Robb's decision, and it was later on that day after they had all returned to their chambers when Robb shared the plan with the northern lords at the council meeting.

"If we take Dragonstone we will have the greatest strategic port for us. The Bloodlands does not have a big enough port and we do not have the resources to begin building another, larger one. If Selyse Baratheon agrees, we will send twenty of the twenty five ships that Oberyn used to Dragon stone and have them parked there. We will wait until the Essosi reply before informing them of sending majority of their ships to Dragonstone."

There was silence in the room before Everra began to speak. "While that is underway, it is time for us to begin to plan for the attack on Kings Landing. Soon enough, we will have the numbers to lay siege on the Red Keep due to Prince Doran's contribution to our cause." She hesitated for only a moment before gesturing for Jon to place the sealed map on the table. "I was given this map when I visited Kings Landing over year ago. This map details all the hidden passages within Kings Landing—"

She was interrupted by a rapid knock on the door, and before Robb could even let him in the guard burst into the room, his face red. He was holding a dark box with a silver ribbon tied at the top in his hands and they all rose at the sight of him.

"Forgive me your grace," he panted, his hands practically shaking as he held the box, "This came from Kings Landing."

Everra heard some of the Northern Lords swear under their breaths, and she and Jon exchanged a terse glance before Robb spoke, "Has anyone opened it?"

The guard shook his head and she could see Robb stiffen. Lady Catelyn's eyes were wide with worry as she hurried over to the guard, "Place it on the table," she commanded and then whirled around to stare at all of them. "Leave us, my lords, my lady."

They all shuffled out of the room without a protest, even Everra.

Robb and his mother stared at that box with increasing anxiousness, yet neither moved to open it. No doubt they both had the same things on their mind; Sansa. Robb had tried within the past few months to not let his worry for his sister occupy his thoughts, and for the most part he had succeeded, if not for rare moments in the night. His mother, he knew, did not share his restraint, and that every waking thought she had was underlined with worry for her eldest daughter, and fear as well.

The guilt Robb felt suddenly increased tenfold and with a quick sigh he moved towards the box, his heart pounding in his chest. "Do you think. . " his mothers voice drifted off into nothing. She sounded and looked as though the weight of the world was on top of her shoulders. He knew what she meant though, if the lump in his throat said anything. Do you think that's her head? Robb didn't know, but he knew he had to find out, even if it killed him to do so.

So he gingerly untied the bow, and his bones felt so fragile he thought they would break from the mere movement. Gently, he lifted the lid of the box and hesitantly glanced down, and what he saw both sent his heart soaring and dropping in his chest. A sound pain escaped his throat, and his mother hurried to his side, breathless. "What is it Robb—" Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the box's contents, and her eyes filled with grief as she lifted a hand to her mouth.

Robb felt bile rise up in his throat as he glared down at the box, and the fury that boiled in his veins was unlike any other he had ever experienced. All he could hear was his heart pounding with the beat of his anger thud thud thud it went. His jaw tightened and his hands curled into fists at his side, and with one last glance towards his mother he strode out of the room, his blue eyes blazing.

He wasn't surprised at the sight of the Lords waiting outside the council room and with a low, angry voice he commanded, "Lord Karstark." The old man turned to face him, and he must have recognised the look in his eyes because he quickly reached for his sword. "Come with me."

He could see Everra's face as he brushed past but in that moment he did not care. All he cared about was the anger running through his veins and quelling all other thought.

The Kingslayer was right where Robb knew him to be. In a cold, small dark cell in the dungeon of RedRun. The sight of the stinking and dirty man did little to lessen Robb's anger, but he had to admit that a small sliver of satisfaction coursed through him at the sight of the almighty Kingslayer.

"The King in the North," he drawled out, his green murky eyes flashing in the darkness. The only light in the room was that of a torch a guard was holding.

"Ser Jaime," Robb returned, his blue eyes like stone. Jaime cocked his head to the side, his tangled hair brushing over the front of his face as he appraised him.

"You look angry," even those words were a taunt, "Aww, are you here to speak to me of your problems? I must admit I am flattered for the offer—"

"Shut up if you know what's good for you," Lord Karstark snapped beside him, his sword withdrawn. Jaime noticed that as well, but he showed no fear in his eyes as he turned his head to look at Robb once more.

"You here to kill me?" he taunted, a smirk appearing on his lips, "Wouldn't be the wisest thing you've done, seeing as last time I checked my father had your sister—"

"Your son has done a very good job of showing us how much he appreciates her," Robb interrupted with dark sarcasm, "Sending us some of her hair and bloodied skin, very original I must say Kingslayer. It is a wonder anyone in the seven kingdoms thinks there is even a possibility your bastard is not yours."

There was a beat before Jaime replied, "Are you going to kill me now, Stark? Send my head to my father in a pretty little box?"

It was Robb's turn to smirk at him now, and a dark sense of satisfaction seeped through him.

"No," he answered simply, watching the smile disappear from Jaime's face. Robb turned to glance at Lord Karstark, who was red in the face and obviously eager to run his sword through Jaime. Robb knew Jaime couldn't die, but that didn't mean he could not be hurt. He promised Lord Tyrion that Jaime would not be killed. He never said anything about punishment. It was what Everra had whispered to him when he felt like protesting Lord Tyrion's terms. He had not tortured the Kingslayer because he feared they would harm his sister. Now, he knew for sure they were harming her anyway. The thought of Sansa crying and helpless and being beaten sent yet another wave of anger through him and so with a low voice he commanded his guards to unchain Ser Jaime but keep his hands bound as well as his feet. He stepped aside from the door as to signal to another guard to enter the room with a small wooden block.

They dragged Jaime to the wooden block and waited for his next command.

"I'm not going to kill you," Robb told him darkly, "I'm going to take away the one thing that makes you who you are." There was a beat of silence before Robb continued, "Guards, place his right hand on the block." He exchanged a dark look with Lord Karstark and lifted two fingers. The older man did not look happy, but he nodded his consent. This was not the justice he wanted for his sons, but it was the closest thing that Robb could grant him.

Robb watched in silence as Lord Karstark walked up to Jaime Lannister, his sword dangling by his side as he held it in his right hand. Robb observed wordlessly as he lifted the sword over his head, and with one clean swoosh brought it down, neatly slicing off two of Jaime Lannister's fingers. It was so silent a pin could drop and Robb would have heard it, before a loud scream erupted from Jaime's throat. It was more of a scream of shock rather than of pain, Robb noted, before turning around and stalking out of the cell, the sound of Jaime's scream echoing in his ears.

Everra stood in the council room long after the other Lords left, with only Jon and Catelyn for coming. The tension in the room kept on increasing with each passing moment, the only sound in the room being Catelyn's mutters. It sounded like 'my daughter, my daughter, oh dear gods. . '. Over and over until Everra almost began saying it herself.

She cast a glance towards the opened box, and even she could feel her stomach clenching slightly. Jon looked as though he had seen a ghost and as though he were about to be sick at any moment. She felt very tempted to say something, but kept quiet. What would you say? she asked herself silently, What could you possibly say that could make this any better? Everra remembered well the last conversation her and Catelyn Stark had, and she remembered that look in the older womans eye.

The look of complete and utter hatred and anger. No doubt she wouldn't want her apologises. Still though, Everra felt as though she should say something, if not for her own sake but for Jons and Robbs.

Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Robb entered the room silently and did not seem surprised to find them still there. Everra resisted the urge to bombard him with questions and instead kept quiet, recognising that look in his eyes. He sighed loudly and walked further closer towards them, and cast a look of disdain towards the box. "Get that out of here," he muttered towards the guard behind him. Everra watched him soundlessly as he poured himself a glass of wine and sipped at it, before she finally asked, "Your grace, what. . . where did you go?"

A dark look crossed his face before he answered roughly, "I went to visit the Kingslayer."

"Why?" Catelyn asked before she could, her face having a haunted, hollow expression painted on it.

"Punishment," Robb answered shortly.

Everra felt her stomach clench before she questioned him, "Punishment of what kind?"

He looked at her— directly at her eyes and answered without remorse, "I had Lord Karstark chop off two of his fingers."

The relief that seeped through her was large but was quickly downed by the realisation of what this could lead too. "Your grace if Lord Tyrion finds out that you have been mistreating his brother he may turn on us."

"He won't find out," he returned, and took another gulp of his wine, "I'm not about to send him his fingers now am I?"

Everra could see Catelyn wince from the corner of her eye as well as Jon and for the first time ever she felt as though she could not reach him. As though he were there but untouchable. It was a strange feeling, and one that she hoped to never feel again. Isn't this how he always feels with you? a small voice in her head asked and she shook it away and remained silent. She let out a small sigh and moved to exit the room, but just as she passed by Robb she murmured, "I hope you know what you are doing." And then she left.

In Volantis (a month after the events in the Bloodlands)

To say the man was surprised would have been an understatement. He stared down at the opened letter with wide eyes that carefully supressed the surge of emotions inside him. His black hair brushed against his brow as his dark brown eyes narrowed in thought. I never thought to hear of her ever again, he thought to himself, and stroked his chin. He was busy with the re-election of the triarchs; he had been one two years ago and was expected to be re-elected this year as one of the elephants.

He was little over thirty and considered to be one of the richest men in Volantis as his father before him. At the thought of his father a small pang hit him but he quickly brushed it aside and thought. If she wrote to me she must have written to him as well. His fingers drummed against the desk for a good long while as he thought. "You," he commanded in Valyrian to a nearby slave, "get me some wine." The slave nodded wordlessly and hurried out of the room, his eyes focused on the ground. Looking in the eyes of their Masters meant death, they knew that. Parquello knew it too.

It was hours later and he was still sitting in his study when a guard brought news that he had a visitor. He straightened in his chair and motioned for the guard to bring him in, knowing exactly who it was. Alexius Dahareys is a handsome man, with dark skin like his own but brown hair with a lean, muscular build. He is from the tiger party and though there are rumours of his election into the triarchy, Parquello knew them to be false. He was too young. Not that he had been much older when he was first elected, but still. He was a man of twenty and two.

"Alexius," he welcomed in valyrian, not rising from his chair.

The younger man nodded his respects and returned, "Parquello."

Alexius sat down in the chair across from him and they stared at each other for a long while before he spoke, "Are you going?"

Parquello knew the answer. He had known it since he had finished reading it.

"Yes."

In the Bloodlands

It was the day that Robb received a reply from Dragonstone and he was sitting in his temporary solar, reading the letter with narrowed eyes. They had been receiving much news from letters over the past two months. Everra had gotten news from her people in Essos a little over a month before. Good news.

We know no god other than the Lord of the light.

We know no King but the King of the Iron Throne,

whose name is Stannis.

Signed,

Selyse Baratheon

Everra sat next to him, watching him closely. They had begun acting as they had in the beginning. She as his advisor, and he as her listener. It was easier this way, Robb knew but it felt slightly strange. Slightly awkward. There were numerous times when they were alone or with Jon that he would have this sudden urge to touch her hair or her hands and then jerk back as if he had been burned. It was a strange situation, but Robb knew it was necessary. His scars had not yet healed and his hurts had not yet left him. If she wanted to say something about the arrangement, she never said it nor showed it— not that that was unusual.

He read over the letter once more and handed it over to her, and watched as she frowned. But then her eyes widened in realisation and he asked her "Everra?"

"The lord of light," she told him. Robb stared at her in confusion and raised both of his eyebrows. "Who taught them of the lord of light? Melisandre. We have her, if we can convince her to write to Selyse then—"

"We get Dragonstone," Robb finished, his eyes wide and relief flooding through him. He then let out a small chuckle and jested, "If only we had thought of that two months before."

Everra let out a small amused sigh at that and told him, "Once she see's that it is from her she'll reply a lot quicker."

It was later on that day when Everra was summoned to the front courtyard. "A host of men have been spotted heading for RedRun, my lady," Maester Liwin told her, eyeing the open door warily. Everra commanded Lord Yullian, who was standing next to them, to put archers on the battlements. She exchanged a glance with the Maester and told him, "I will go and greet them if it is who I think it is. Close the doors behind me."

She ignored his wide-eyed concern as she walked out of the gates and stood at the end of the bridge. She cast the front courtyard one last glance before the gate shut, Andromache leaping out at the last possible moment to stay by her side. Everra's heart was pounding in her chest, and a lump had begun to form in her throat. She turned to gaze at the hills above her, where surely enough a host of men including two palanquins came rolling down. She watched with a blank gaze and a heavy heart as they approached her and when the host stopped her heart jumped in her chest.

One of the men exited his palanquin and with the glint of his black hair in the sun her heart leaped to her throat.

"Uncle?"