A/N Hello again everyone. . . Okay, so I figure it's only fair if I address the very obvious issue/discussion everyone had about last chapter; Everra dying. Yikes, it's still kinda hard for me to accept but she is dead. Some of you expressed confusion as to what happened, so here is a little recap. Last chapter, Tyrion and Sansa got married, Roose Bolton died, the old woman visited Everra one last time, and Everra died in front of Robb. Now for understandable reasons, many people expressed shock, dismay and surprise by this and some were unhappy. That's understandable, and if I were in your position I would undoubtedly feel the same way. But for me, when I decided to write this story, I wanted it to be very in the 'game of thrones universe'. Some of you may say I managed it well, others of you may say I did it poorly, I don't know.

But essentially what I'm trying to say was that I wanted this story to be as ruthless and as bloodthirsty as the source it came from. Everra dying was how I wanted to 'accomplish' that. Because bare in mind Everra was not a good person. Sure, she had many, many reasons to be the way she was but that doesn't mean that it excuses her actions. Anyway, I wanted to portray war in a realistic manner, and I hope I accomplished that. And GUYS OMG THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS STORY! Like thank you all so much for all of your support! Also. . . double update! See ya at the end!

(And also, I decided a while ago that if you guys wanted one-shots of the characters in this story, such as a modern AU or a different scenario with the same characters then I would upload it. I recently uploaded one such one shot request from Saint River and would just like to clarify that IT IS NOT a part of the actual Blood Must Have Blood plot. That was just a different scenario one shot that was an idea of a reader. If any of you want to send me some ideas you have, feel free to do so!)

Chapter 40

They said it was a bad idea.

Building a pyre. They said that they should do it after they won the battle, in Kings Landing. In that rats nest they call the capital in the South. Robb could smell the shit from miles away, and they were still a good two days ride from the capital. They weren't even in view of Kings Landing, and they had a constant patrol around the camp, archers at the ready and soldiers blowing through the trees of the forest looking for scouts.

If I am to die, I am to be burned.

The words were clear in Robb's mind and were a constant echo. It was that very afternoon of the morning that—

No, he thought. No.

Clouds had gathered in the sky, as though the howls from Andromache and Grey wind were summoning them closer. The black panther had not stopped howling since. . . it had happened. Grey wind had joined her in her howls of agony, and now the wolf and the panther could not stop howling. Ghost simply whimpered by Jon's side, matching his brother's bewildered and wounded expression. Jon looked as though he could not believe it. As though it were impossible that she was de— gone. Robb couldn't blame him. He couldn't believe it either. Despite him being there, watching her dy— leaving.

I love you too.

The words curled in his stomach, extending up to his heart and wrapping around it and pulling. Pulling his heart lower and lower until Robb felt as though it were no longer there. They were building the pyre. (At the look on Robb's face his banner men— the few that had come with him along with the near ten thousand men— had quickly agreed without question). Robb caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and stood there, staring at himself. He was still the same as he had been this morning, curled up in her bed, eager for her to come back. His curls were still matted to his head, his jaw was still sharp, his lips were still the usual same of pink but his eyes. His eyes were empty. Like all the life had been sucked out of them. He supposed in some way it had, but he chose not to dwell on that.

Sansa. Father. Arya. Mother. Jon. Bran. Rickon. Everra. Uncle Benjen. Winterfell. He closed his eyes tightly and let out a breath, his shoulders tensing. It was at that moment his mother entered the room, her eyes filled with caution, as though he were a wild animal ready to pounce (he supposed he was in a sense; when they tore them away from her it took three men to do it, and even then he had managed to scratch them across the face and elbow them multiple times. All while threatening to kill them in his grief. He hadn't apologised) .

"Mother," he said tonelessly, still staring at his face in the mirror. She seemed to sink to the floor as she sighed, her shoulders relaxing and her features smoothing out. "My son," she whispered, moving towards him. She tried to place a hand on his shoulder but he shifted out of the way, not in the mood for her touch. If he hurt her feelings he couldn't tell, but she accepted his distance with a small nod. There were a few moments of silence before she spoke.

"I. . .I know you loved her," his mother said, as though it were some sort of dark secret. He eyed her with an expression of detachment, his features lacking any sort of emotion. "And I know how hard this must be for you—" Do you? he wanted to snap, did you see father die before your very eyes? Did you feel the blood pouring out of his stomach as you sat there, helpless to do anything? Were you unable to spend the rest of your life with father despite loving him with every fibre of your being? He knew what the answer was but he kept his frustrations to himself. "You will survive this," his mother was saying gently, and Robb tried to mask the fact that he had been too consumed with his anger to listen to what she was saying.

"Mother," he said tiredly, once she had finished. He felt oddly strong now, his stance straight and even as he stared at her. He felt uncharacteristically uncaring about her death at the moment, as though Everra's death suddenly meant nothing to him. Love is weakness, she had once told him, love gets you killed.

Did I get you killed? his heart whispered, but he pushed the thought away, eager for the emptiness to take over. "I have a battle to prepare for," he said stonily, gazing right into her eyes, watching as she blinked with surprise before it converted into seriousness, "And I cannot think about. . .surviving this. I need to worry about surviving the battle first and making sure we win." He let out a breath, as though saying these words was tiring him and told her, "I have a. . . cremation to attend mother. You should join us and show your respects." He then made his way out of the tent, before being stopped b the sound of his mother's voice.

"You cannot run away from your grief, my beloved son," she said softly, "That is not the way it works. You can't do it."

Watch me, he thought, stalking away from her.

It was raining. Or at least, it just began to rain when they set her body on the pyre. Robb could feel Jon's grief crashing against him in waves, and he shot his brother a glance, watching how his dark eyes were clouded in darkness. There was a small container next to Robb, where her ashes were to be put in until they returned to RedRun. If they returned. Jon glanced up at him, and something tightened in Robb's chest. He remembered vaguely how Jon had looked when they found her dead, how tears had streamed down his face. He looked away from Jon to stare at her lifeless body, and found himself moving next to the pyre, so he could stare down at her face.

She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her raven locks were still the same shade of black he had grown to love, her lips were still a light shade of pink and her skin was still healthy looking. It hadn't gone pale with death. Not yet. But her eyes. Oh how it pained him. Her eyes were firmly closed, and for a moment it looked as though she were sleeping. He would never see her eyes again, never see those brilliant emerald orbs staring at him coldly in the council room. He would never her eyes soften ever so slightly at him when they were in her chambers, naked, with the sheets stuck on their bodies with sweat. The thought gave him so much sorrow— too much sorrow.

"It's difficult isn't it?" Jon asked. Robb jumped at the sound of his voice so close, and turned to look at him, the spell broken. "Yeah it is," he replied faintly, his eyes slowly drifting back to her. "It's so damn difficult," Jon said angrily. Robb would have comforted his brother if not for the dull, steady ache in his chest that had replaced his heart. "She was a difficult person to love," Robb told him, before he was suddenly interrupted by a guard with a torch. "Your grace," he began, "If you are ready. . ." his voice trailed off nervously as Robb stared at the torch emotionlessly. Ready? he thought, how can I ever be ready for this? I'll never be ready, and I don't ever want to be. He took a hold of the burning torch wordlessly, dismissing him with a silent nod. His banner men were standing there, watching but not morning, for what had they to mourn? Robb was the only northman besides from Jon who had lost something when she died, so Robb did not turn to look at them, he looked at her men. At the Unsullied leader, Youngbird, if he remembered correctly, whose face was set in stone. Unsullied follow the one's who own them, he had always known that. Unsullied were loyal to their masters alone. The thought of them leaving because Everra was dead had never occurred to Robb and he cursed himself for thinking it now.

"Robb," Jon said gently, staring at him with those dark eyes, so like their father's, "It's time."

Robb could feel himself nod and grip onto the torch tighter, before slowly, hesitantly, lowering the flame onto the pyre. He took a step back, his arms limp at his sides as his grief spread through his body like a fever. I love you. The flames slowly began to spread over the pyre before slowly yet surely engulfing her in the flames. He stood there, close enough to stare at her face for what felt like the longest moments of his life. You promised you wouldn't leave me.

"Your grace," Jon called out gently, jolting Robb from his reverie, "The council meeting. . ."

"Yes," Robb echoed, dragging his eyes away from the flames, "Yes let us go."

To say the room was filled with tension would be an understatement. Robb glanced at Jon who he presumed looked as equally haunted as he did. The seconds ticked by as they all sat there, and it took Robb a while to realise that they were waiting for him to speak.

"We have lost two great supporters to our cause in the past few days," Robb said, the words lodged in his throat, "Lord Bolton and Lady Everra shall never be forgotten." Robb's heart twisted painfully. He took a deep breath and continued, "But we must move forward. Kings Landing is only a few days away and we need to be on time with the fleet, otherwise this will all be for nought." Robb looked at Jon for a long while and instantly knew in his heart what he must do next.

"Before we left RedRun Lady Everra informed me of who should succeed her should she die." He paused for a moment, judging the expressions on all of their faces. Jon's eyes had gone wide but other than that he seemed resigned to it, unaffected by the revelation. "As it turns out, her mother had birthed another child during the late King Robert's rebellion and that child lived on in the North as my brother Jon Snow. She asked for me to legitimise him and give him all of her titles." All of their faces were blank for a moment, before they nodded in agreement, silent. Robb rose from his chair and faced his brother, gesturing for him to kneel. He unsheathed his sword and placed it onto Jon's left shoulder.

"I," he began, "Robb Stark, the King in the North hereby grant you the title of Warden of the Blood, Lord of the Bloodlands and being the head of one of the great houses of Westeros. You kneeled before me as Jon Snow, you will now rise as Jon Legrath." He gently pulled his sword away from Jon and sheathed it, the tent eerily silent. It was as if nothing had happened, as though nothing significant had just taken place. It started and then it ended. Nothing more. No toast to celebrate, no men to cheer, no servants to gossip. Jon should not be the Lord of the Bloodlands. Not because Robb didn't think his brother was a capable ruler or because he was jealous but because he was all of those things because Everra had died. His brother had become a Lord because Everra was dead and a part of Robb hated him for it, no matter how much he knew it was unfair to blame Jon.

When he returned to his tent after that night, Robbw as unsurprised to find his mother already there with fire in her eyes. What he was surprised to see however, was the vase that contained her ashes sealed and placed on—

"How could you not tell me?" his mother asked angrily, her voice raising. Robb dragged his eyes to hers, his movements sluggish and tired. "Mother," he began quietly, eager to simply rest and put this nightmarish day behind him, "I apologise for keeping this a secret—"

"She was the daughter of the woman your father—" she broke off angrily, pacing around a small space, her cheeks flushed with anger. Lay with. Shamed me for. The women your father loved besides me. Robb understood why his mother was angry, truly, he did, but he was not to blame for his father's mistakes. It was not his secret to tell.

"It was not my secret to tell mother, and the person whose secret it was is now dead," he told her emotionlessly, "I apologise for hurting you, truly I am sorry but all I want to do now is rest, mother. Please. Be angry with me tomorrow." Her eyes softened then as she looked at him, sorrow and compassion in her eyes.

"Yes my son," she said reluctantly, moving out of the tent, "I will speak with you on the morrow."

Robb counted on it.

He remembered the conversation him and his mother had. Their goodbye so to speak. She would remain here with a good three hundred soldiers to protect her, and take her to Winterfell if need be. He tried not to think of that possibility. They were solemn and quiet as they said goodbye, but her words were warm as she whispered in his ear, I love you my son, please be safe.

Kings Landing was just as he had imagined it, it matched all the descriptions he had heard of. They were hiding in the Kingswood, all near seven thousand of them. They had decided that two thousand of them should wait in the Kingswood while the rest hid in the tunnels under Kings Landing, and that the second wave would come when Greywind howled. Robb put Jon in charge of the second wave, though he knew Jon did not like it.

I couldn't save her, he wanted to say, but I can try to save you.

As planned, the small opening for the tunnel was there and open for them, and they slowly moved into the dark tunnels under the night sky. There was only one source of light, only one torch in the tunnels, which was held by a small figure.

Tyrion, he thought, and Greywind bounded off to be closer to the small man.

They talked in small, hushed whispers and it was then that Tyrion—

"And Lady Everra," Tyrion began, the flame lightening his face, "Where is she?"

Robb swallowed the lump in his throat and responded, "She's dead."

Tyrion swore softly in the darkness, the torch shaky in his grasp. "Damn it! I tried to send you a raven about Cersei—"

Robb frowned. "Cersei?" He questioned, "She sent those men to kill her?"

Tyrion shook his head and replied quietly, careful for the men not to hear him in the tunnel, "Cersei acted off her own accord and defied my father's orders. She wanted the both of you dead, thinking it would derail the Northern Campaign and the alliance with the Martells. I caught her sending two sellswords off into the wilderness I didn't know what exactly for but I guessed. The raven did not reach you in time."

"No," Robb said softly, though his voice was as hard as ice, "It didn't."

They were both silent as Robb sunk down onto the floor of the dirty tunnel, his back against the wall. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so now he could make out the shadows of the cramped soldiers stuck in this tunnel. It was truly a miracle that they had all managed to fit in the large tunnel, all five thousand of them, with the other two thousand hiding in the woods of Kings Landing. It was a moment or so later when Tyrion began to speak once more, and it took Robb a moment to realise that he had sat himself beside Robb in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," Tyrion confessed, "She seemed like she was important to you—"

"Thank you," Robb said brusquely, and then paused before asking, "How is my sister?"

"She. . . she is very sad, which is to be expected, Joffery has stopped. . .harming her due to her status as my wife however she is very quiet, very obedient. Your sister is a survivor, your grace. She is very strong, though not in a very obvious way."

"She is a wolf," Robb murmured, his heart heavy in his chest and just as he was about to say something more there was a loud bang from upstairs, and a lot of screaming. Everyone in the tunnel jumped at the sound, the room erupting with the sound of their breathing. "What was that?" He asked Tyrion, his eyes wide as Greywind began to growl beside him.

"That," Tyrion began, "was the sound of someone trying to tear down the mud gate."

Robb let out a breath of relief and stood quickly, unsheathing his sword.

"We must go now," he commanded, his heart pounding in his chest. Everra, he thought, Father, give me strength.

And then they shuffled off into the hell that was war.

When they would later speak of that day in Kings Landing, accounts would vary. Many would say that all hope was lost for the invaders until the King in the North's wolf howled and summoned another two thousand men and his brother. Many would say that the Young Wolf ripped out Tywin Lannister's throat with his own teeth, many said that Oberyn Martell killed him for vengeance, which was true.

(The Volantene also died as well, much to Robb's dismay)

The Young Wolf and the Red Viper killed Tywin Lannister together, and when he died, they had won the battle and with that, the war. They had won the war with songs in their hearts and fire in their bellies that still roared continuously even though their enemies had surrendered the moment Tywin Lannister's body hit the floor.

(They also say however, that when the King was reunited with his sister they both crumpled to the floor curled up together and were very, very quiet)

The realm had suffered greatly under the reign of the golden haired lions, now however. Now was a time for wolves.

It was a few days after the final battle when Robb had Jaime Lannister brought to the Redkeep along with his mother. The reunion between his mother and sister was soul-crushing as they hugged each other tightly in a mess of limbs and tears and whispers and kisses on foreheads and on cheeks on their mother's part. The Kingslayer was covered in a thick layer of dirt, with a bandage on his right hand. Something hot and burning curled in his stomach as he looked at Jaime Lannister, the picture of defeat. He could see Tyrion shuffle on his feet in front of him, from where he stood on the steps leading up to the Iron Throne.

He wanted him dead. He wanted Jaime Lannister dead.

Cersei sent those men after you, after the both of you. . . I never thought she would succeed.

Robb's hands curled into fists at his sides as he thought angrily, let her know how I feel. The Dragon Queen will kill him when she arrives, will probably have him burnt in front of all of Kings Landing. As if Tyrion Lannister— his good brother now, he realised but that did nothing to lessen his burning desire for vengeance— read his thoughts, he turned to look at him with his mismatched eyes.

"Have Cersei Lannister and Joffery brought to me," he commanded, his voice booming across the silent room. Tyron Lannister moved over to him quickly, his eyes widening. "Your grace we had a deal," he whispered, once he was close enough for only Robb to hear what he was saying, "I spy of you in return for my lands and Tommen and Myrcella and Jaime's safety. You swore you wouldn't kill him." Robb stared at him for a moment, before telling him coldly, "Lord Tyrion I have no plans to sit on the Iron throne. I plan on asking Daenerys Targaryen to return to Westeros. And we both know that she will want vengeance for the man who killed her father. We both know who that is, and we both know that she will most likely have him burnt alive by dragon fire in front of all of Kings Landing."

There was a beat before he continued, "I am going to give you a choice, Lord Tyrion. I will not risk restarting another war by insulting the Dragon Queen and telling her that I want your brother safe. I will not. So here are your options. One, I don't kill Jaime and when Daenerys eventually arrives in Westeros and asks you for him and you refuse you will be killed and lose all of your lands and all remainders of your family will be killed. Two, you give your brother to the Queen and she has him tortured and beaten and burnt alive in a most painful death. Or you allow me to kill your brother here and now, in a quiet, painless death."

There was another beat before Tyrion spoke, "You would be the one to kill him?"

Robb answered without hesitation, "The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword."

Tyrion's eyes were haunted with grief and guilt as he swayed on his feet. A sliver of sympathy made it's way into Robb's heart and he murmured, "You may say goodbye if you wish." Tyron flinched as though he had slapped him, and he was surprised at how affected he looked, the man who was so clever and witty and drunk most of the time. It would be the most difficult thing he would ever do, Robb knew as he watched Lord Tyrion, it would take a man with a lot of bravery to say goodbye to his brother who he just sentenced to die.

"I will," Lord Tyrion said after a moment, "Thank you."

"Lord Tyrion," Robb called out softly, "You are a brave man."

Tyrion's mouth quirked up in bitter amusement, "You are the first to think so."

Cersei Lannister and Joffery were brought up moments later and he moved forward towards the blonde haired woman, fire singing in his veins as he glared at her.

"You killed her," he told Cersei, his voice as hard as ice yet not loud enough for everyone to hear, only them, "And you tore my heart out of my chest doing so. You took her from me."

He glanced towards Joffrey and Jaime and watched as her lips began to tremble and her eyes grew wide with desperation yet she did not beg. She would not beg.

Anger burned his insides, making him want to rip out her heart and feed it to the crows.

Not yet, he told himself, not yet.

"Do you want to know how it felt?" he asked her numbly, his blue eyes detached yet sharp, as though his gaze could pierce through her skin. He gripped the handle of his sword and walked towards Jaime, whom was still kneeling, his eyes resigned as though he already knew his fate.

He tilted his head as he looked at her and could practically feel his mother and Sansa's eyes on his form. He didn't care. By all the gods he did not care for anything accept for the hunger burning through his veins, the savage desire to see all of their heads on spikes.

Her green eyes met his and for a split second Robb almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

He swung his sword with all his might and with one clean stroke, Jaime Lannister's head fell from his body, blood splattering against his bastards son golden hair and on the ground. He could practically feel the sigh of relief that swept through his men as he did but nothing compared to the wounded sound that escaped Cersei's throat. It was as though a thousand knives had just been shoved into her body and Robb felt a small flutter of cruel satisfaction in his veins.

"It felt like that," he told her, his eyes melting into hers.

"Take them to the Great sept of Baelor," he commanded, his eyes never leaving Cersei Lannister, whom had now curled into a tight ball, the animalistic sound echoing throughout the room.

He turned to Lord Karstark and gestured towards the dismembered head, "Do what you like with that." Robb then turned to Tyrion, who looked sickly and pale and gestured towards the headless corpse, "And you may take his bones back to Casterly Rock." He felt his mother and his sister's eyes on him, and so he turned around to look at him; the former's eyes were stern and the latter's were lifeless, if a bit dazed. Sansa had looked like that since they had won the battle; as if she still believed this was a dream. For a moment, his grief for Everra lessened in place for that of his sister; who had been through so much. His self-loathing was great in that moment, and yet he still found himself walking over to them, though his eyes were placed firmly on Sansa.

He remembered the games they used to play as children. Knights and princesses and great, grand rescues. Robb would always be the knight coming to rescue his younger sister from those who wished to hurt her. The games would always be filled with anticipation; would the prince or knight get there in time? Would he save the princess from harm? They all knew that he always would, back then. Robb had come for her now, same as he always had but he had been too late. The monsters had taken his sister and hurt her. He wondered what she thought of him now.

As if she could read his thoughts, she extended her hand out to him, urging for him to take it so that they could walk together to the Great Sept of Baelor. To the place where their father had died. Where all of their sorrow had begun.

Robb took it without a second thought. When they eventually made it to the Great Sept of Baelor, to the very spot where his father was executed, a large crowd had gathered in front of them, all of them cheering for their heads. Did they not do the same for my father? Robb thought, before quickly pushing the thought out of his mind. Dwelling on thoughts like that would not do him any good, considering. . .

He stared at the former King Joffery, who was on his knee's and crying, his face red with effort. No one will heed your cries, he thought, no one will try and help you. He swallowed loudly and removed his arm from Sansa's, raising his hand to silence the crowd.

"Today, two people will be executed. The former Queen Mother, Cersei of House Lannister, found guilty of treason against the crown, adultery, murder and incest. The former King of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the Realm, Joffery Hill. Bastard son of Cersei and Jaime Lannister, guilty of crimes against the crown, treason, murder and tyranny. I, Robb Stark, First of his Name, and the King in the North, hereby sentence them to die."

He heard the sound of a sword unsheathing, and was surprised to find a guard holding onto his father's sword, "Ice". His insides tightened at the sight of the great Valyrian sword and he grabbed a hold of it tightly, it's weight strangely familiar. He was surprised to catch a glimpse of Tyrion Lannister as he moved towards the mother and her son, who were both kneeling on the ground.

"Mercy!" Joffrey begged, "I beg of you!" The crowd roared with displeasure, egging Robb on. Cersei Lannister was silent, as though she were dead already. Robb felt empty, cold. He had dreamnt of this moment, of avenging his father. He had imagined he would feel something, anything, he never expected this voidness in his chest. Joffrey's head was placed down on the wooden block in front of him. Robb paused for a moment before looking at Sansa, whose eyes were stony and calm. They stared at each other for a long moment, before she nodded indirectly, giving her consent.

Robb looked down at Joffery, holding onto Ice's handle tightly. "Any last words?" he asked, his heart beating loudly in his ears. "Rot in hell," the golden haired bastard spat at him, though his eyes were filled with fear. Robb took a deep breath and then slowly lifted his sword and brought it down. Joffery's head was dismembered from his body in one, clean stroke. Cersei quickly followed in a quiet manner, and then his enemies were dead but there was still this hole in his heart, this huge aching gap that he feared would be there until his last day.

He wasn't aware that the crowd had dispersed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned to glance at Sansa, who was staring at him solemnly. He allowed her to tug him around the RedKeep, and before he knew it they were climbing up to the battlements, where heads were stuck on pikes. A lump formed in his throat as they past Joffery and Cersei but surprisingly enough Sansa led him past them, and stopped before a barely recognisable, rotted head.

"Father," he whispered, swallowing uncomfortably. He was barely recognisable, his eyes half plucked out by the crows, his skin rotted to the point of Robb being able to see the bones in his face. He nearly crumbled down onto his knee's at the sight of it, and he barely managed to croak out, "Get him down." His guards quickly hurried about behind him, and Sansa quietly confessed, "They made me watch when he was killed," her voice was so quiet, so haunted, "And then he made look at it the day after."

Robb hugged her tightly as she sobbed, his heart crumbling into nothing.

It took approximately four days to have all those who betrayed his father killed, and with the few remaining lords and ladies of Kings Landing remaining, Robb knew it was time.

"The last Targaryen," Robb told what remained of his council, "Summon her and offer her the Iron throne. Inform her that we will willingly allow her to come over to Westeros and accept her rule if only she accept the North's indolence."

It took a few months for a reply to come back, and then the rest, as they say, was history.

It was a strange feeling, Robb felt, watching the silver haired queen walk to her throne. The throne which he currently stood in front of, Greywind at his heels. He watched emotionlessly as her dragons flew around, drawing gasps from the nearby court. He saw Sansa stand closer to their mother out of the corner of his eye, and his banner men reach for their swords from where they stood below him .

"Your grace," he called out, his voice echoing across the silent hall. Her violet eyes met his blue ones in a fierce gaze, The King of Winter and the Mother of Dragons; ice and fire. He made his way down the steps, and his banner men immediately parted so that he could pass through. "Your grace," she returned, her voice as hard as his own. Robb's eyes flickered to the man by her side, and recognised him as Jorah Mormont.

The man was staring at him right in the eye, almost as if he was daring him to try attack them and die for it. Robb had no desire to attack anyone. Had no desire to see anymore blood spilt. And suddenly he was so tired; tired of killing, tired of living, tired of grieving that he almost collapsed. His tiredness must have showed in his eyes because the violet orbs in front of him softened ever so slightly, and a moment of understanding past between them.

"You want your throne," Robb started, his voice hard yet somehow amiable, "I want my home. If you want seven kingdoms so badly, make the Bloodlands a Kingdom." He made sure not to leave any room for argument. She raised a silver eyebrow at him and shot a glance towards Jon, who was staring at them with a emotionless expression, "I understand your baseborn brother has been legitimised as Jon Legrath, heir to his half-sister's lands?" He could practically feel his mother flinch from somewhere around the room.

"Yes," Robb replied without hesitation, his eyes cold as he stared her down. There was a beat before she nodded and held out her hand for him to shake it, "To the King in the North," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Robb took her hand, and did not look away from her eyes— which he wished with all his might were a different colour, the colour of emeralds— and boomed back, "To the Queen in the South."

It was a moment that would last throughout history.

How Robb managed to stumble his way into his chambers late that night he never figured out, all he knew was that Grey wind played a large part in him managing it in the first place. The moment the door shut behind him he nearly collapsed onto the ground, the weight of the world suddenly crushing down on his shoulders. He stumbled over and had to cling onto the bedpost to keep afloat. He felt so empty, so lifeless. He pressed a hand to his chest to make sure his heart was still beating.

He let out a sigh and collapsed back-first onto the bed, and the fall knocked the breath out of him. He felt so alone, lonelier than he had first felt when they put a crown on his head. He stared across the empty space on the bed and tried to picture her there for a moment. He could feel her warmth next to him, could feel the tresses of her hair brushing against his cheek as he moved closer to her, could picture her green eyes— the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. And eyes he would never see again.

As if to remind himself, he cast a glance at the lidded vase on the other side of the room. All she was was ashes now. And ashes didn't do anything except burn. She was no longer her beautiful, cold, authoritative self, no longer her intelligent, brave and cold self; all she was now was what people found in hearths after the fire had burned out. Suddenly he was so angry at her he nearly began to cry. He wasn't angry at her for dying, that hadn't been her fault, but he was angry at her for making him care; for making him love her. For making him feel as though it would be easier for someone to rip out his heart than endure this pain. Scratch that, Robb thought, they already did. But my heart is still burning with grief as it beats on the floor, bloody and broken.

"Damn you," he whispered, his words caused his throat to ache from emotion, and his eyes began to sting, "I love you. Come back."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," an old, unfamiliar voice croaked out from the shadows. Robb jumped off the bed, reaching for his sword an glanced down at Greywind when he hadn't made a sound. His eyes were shut, and he kept on sleeping near the bottom of the bed. "What in the seven hells did you do to him?" he snarled, pointing his sword forward threateningly.

The old woman smiled, and with a wave of her hand candles were suddenly lit, making them more visible. Robb tried very hard to mask his surprise as he stared at the older woman, who looked even older than Old Nan.

"You must be wondering who I am," she murmured, her old voice croaky and worn. Robb lowered his sword every so slightly, but did not answer. "Though I think you have a pretty good guess." Robb felt his anger flare at that and he snapped, "How do you know what I am thinking?"

The old woman laughed at that, her eyes eyeing him with something like respect, "I have many gifts, your grace. That happens to be one of them."

Robb felt his insides drop. "You're the one who told her," he whispered, his eyes widening as his grip on his sword tightened, "You're the one who convinced her to help me, who told her— everything." Robb felt his anger begin to grow inside of him, until it was as tall as the wall and as strong as the winds of winter. "You're the reason why she's dead." It wasn't a question.

The old woman looked momentarily ashamed at the statement, before it vanished completely. "She knew that her dying was a possibility," she replied, averting her eyes from his. Robb felt his jaw lock with rage, and his hands began to shake due to its sheer force. "Except it wasn't a possibility was it?" he questioned angrily, "It was a guarantee. Andromache led her to that gods-forsaken tree. Her own animal—"

"Which she got from me," the old woman interrupted smoothly. Robb gaped at her, cursing detachment to the wind. "Why?" he whispered, "Why would you kill her?"

The old woman looked at him with an expression that said that she sympathised with his loss. "I was given the opportunity to make a choice, your grace. I had the choice to let you die in one. . .option and another option that let you live. There were two different 'prophecies' for each option. One where you died, and Lady Everra never existed, and one where she did exist and you lived, but she died. I made a choice—"

"Did you tell her that?" he growled, "Did you tell her that she was without a doubt giving up her life for mine?" his voice had become shaky, his grief breaking cracks in his anger.

She smiled softly at him, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "The moment she decided to come home and fight for you she gave up her life in many ways. She left Essos, which was arguably her home. She gave up her closest confidant for you, and she gave her army to you and. . . herself. She knew that it was a possibility that she would die—"

"Everyone know's that there is a possibility you could die hunting!" he yelled, "and you do it because you know that there is a possibility that you could live. You denied her that choice!" he pointed at her chest roughly, "That is murder not possibility."

"There had to be a balance," the old woman snapped, her voice suddenly hard and strong, "If she chose to side with the Lannisters or kept out of the war, you would have died. She chose not too, so the gods decided that she had to die instead. Hells, there was even a prophecy about her dying."

Robb stood there silently, watching her with detachment. She softened under his gaze as he stepped back and sat on the bed, his sword slipping out of his fingers and falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

"She died for me," he whispered to himself, his guilt and shame and grief making him feel as though he was drowning. He wasn't aware that she had sat beside him until she began to speak.

"I know this may sound strange," she began, "but in many, many ways you saved her." Robb scoffed at that, scowling, "How?" he asked bitterly, glaring at her. The old woman didn't even look as though she heard what he said.

"You saved her from herself," she said softly, as though she were talking to a wild animal, "you changed her in so many ways. Many of which may not have been obvious but they were there. She was her father's daughter before she met you. She killed without mercy and was as cold as ice. A few more years, and she would have been just as cruel as her father, what little of her humanity having died out. You reminded her that there was more to life than that. More to life than just survival, your grace. You made her happier than she had been since she was four. The way's you changed her— the things you gave her may have been small, they have have been just cracks on a rock but they were invaluable, even if she never admitted it to herself. You taught her how to love again, your grace. You were her chance at redemption."

Robb was crying now. Tears streaming down his face quietly, though he was overwhelmed with emotion, so much so he couldn't find the words to speak.

"I loved her," he said faintly, before correcting himself in a harder, stronger voice, "I love her." His grief was so strong— too strong. "And now she's gone and I love her."

"She loved you too," the old woman whispered back and for a moment, just for one small moment it sounded like—

"Everra," he said, alarmed as he turned around to look at the old woman, who had vanished into thin air. She loved you too.

Robb realised in that moment that he did not only mourn her. He mourned the life that they would never have together; he mourned the secrets that she had that he would never know; he mourned the children that they would never have. He wondered if they would have had his or her eyes; if they would have his auburn curls or her raven locks. These were all questions that would always be unanswered. Maybe in another life they could have been together but not in this one.

The thought brought him such sorrow.

Robb wanted to go home.

It was very simple to him, really. He missed the walls of Winterfell; how they had made him feel safe at all times. He missed the warm stone beneath his fingertips and the hot springs that caused the warmth. He missed his home and wanted to go back, childish as it may seem.

He told the dragon queen that he would be returning home within a fortnight and mustered up the excuse of his upcoming wedding as a reason for him not to stay for her coronation. He gave her a throne, everyone knew this, and she must have known that he could take it away just as easy. Robb imagined that was why she had agreed and he watched as his men and Everra's (Jon's) began to prepare for the long journey home.

There would be two stops on the way back however. One at the Twins to marry his betrothed— Robb usually tried not to think about it— and another to scatter her ashes at her— Jon's home. It was strange to think of Jon as a Legrath, and he knew that it was even harder for Jon to think of it himself. Jon had always wanted to be a Stark and now he was a noble but with a different name and with a different home. Robb would accompany Jon to RedRun and then return to the Twins. He could practically hear Walder Frey grumble about it from all the way in Kings Landing. He would let Everra go, what little of her he had left, and then return to the Twins and pick his bride and try to move on, like his mother said.

The conversation with his mother might not have happened if not for Jon.

It had been a bright, sunny day, a few days before they left for RedRun and Robb had been surprised to find Jon and his mother in the gardens, talking amongst themselves softly, even if they looked a bit awkward. They shot him a look as they moved away from each other, with Jon reaching forward to pat him on the shoulder, his eyes soft with sympathy.

"I'll leave you two alone," he murmured, and removed his hand from Robb's shoulder and walked away. Robb lifted his eyes to look at his mother, the sun catching her hair in the light.

"I'm so proud of you," she murmured, cupping his face in her hands, "My son. My eldest son." Robb's lips turned upward at her words, and he murmured back, "I can't wait to see Bran and Rickon. And Arya as well." His mother smiled back, her blue eyes light, "I can not wait to see them either," she admitted, her smile slowly fading as she looked at him. Robb glanced away from her then, not wanting to have to deal with her pity.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice soft with maternal worry. "I'm fine, mother," Robb told her, his heart stiffening. I love you too. You saved her in so many ways. You were her last chance at redemption. Robb flinched away from his mother, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"I know it may seem like it now," his mother told him gently, "but you will love again. The sun will rise one day and you will have moved on without even realising it." Robb snorted ungracefully and snapped, "How can you say that?" I loved her. More than I thought I could ever love someone, and you're telling me I have to move on?

"You are going to be married, my son," mother said, "And soon. Your wound will not have healed just yet, and you will be bitter and wish that your wife was her but she won't be. And one day you will be glad for it."

"Not anytime soon," Robb replied, with more snark than he intended. His mother hugged him in return and Robb crumbled in her arms, a single tear dripping down his face. I love her and she's gone.

And then later, after the ache in his chest had lessened ever so slightly he pulled away from his mother with a small smile. "What do we do now?" his mother asked, her blue eyes so like his own, so incredibly blue, and yet her eyes were the blue of a bright summer sky, whilst his were the icy pools of Winter.

"Home," he answered, "We go home."

A/N I would like to thank all of you so here we go: 06bromleys, 19irene96, Abena762, Alia-Jevs, AlucardY17, Alyssa1312, Amane-Misa16, Amyb11, AnastasiaIlyina, Angelic Reaper13, AnimeNut47, AnimePrincessRach, Anna C. Black-Potter, Anonymous0786, Apparitions, ArchangelFemme, Arianna Le Fay, ArrowTheaQueen, Artemis Prim, AsgardianDragonRider, Ashley MarieD, AsianGamersRule, Beauitful-Phoenix75, Billie Hale Winchester, Blackhooded001, BloodyCherry7, BlueBell phoenix, BrieKayee, BrighterSky14, Calliope's Scribe, Cap's Best Girl, Ceralyn, CharChar93, ChigUnnie, CryingRosex3, CupcakeLoopy, Cypress98, Dahcheetah, Damn Dude, . 1, DarkReaver724, Daughter of Freedom, Davioedah, Dianasaur22,Dragon nail Polish, Droosh, Dusty Reed, Dwiggy, EMILCE-CULLEN-VULTURI, Eriador12345, ExtremelyShyOtaku991, Fanreader1991, Firelady103, FlammableBatman978, Fredegar, Gabicha, Hadian, Happy-Valley, Haruhi330, , HeuyFreeman, I'm a fire truck, ImaBiteChu, ImagineDaydreams, , Isabela Xavier, ItsukaAkitoLuna, JamalG, Jessboobear, JesssiexDKuroNeko, Jon978892580, Kaerninas, Katiekatexoxo, KeniaHeras, Kiur, KristeenW, Kylria, LSher, Lady-Kiki-Theevilmstermind, Lady kata, LadyXMurderxGates, Leandraviv, leon Krugar, LightFun27, LiliAnn Jackson, LittleMeep, Lizz Black-Malfoy, LoriJane1995, Loverofcolours, madelinexoxo, mage of beginning, mari wollsch, MariosK, Marishkatheunderdog, merlynnpendragon, mickey mireane, mikki88, menthe faye, miss leigh storie, mister polar, moondownx, mrnoobishdude, , nanda gopal, needtoread10, nerja19, nicarmstrong, nicolep1928, nosoulsammy, nuray14, nutty shaggy, orion1327, pandagirl323, peacefulwatchersoul, petalclaw's patricebethporter, phantom- of- light, philoutubes, princessrhaenyra, ptlacky, ptitcoeur 69, publicly, puppylove10121, R.E.W. 4 , raptorqween250, raynieTaco, Red Moon 123, Nedspiderking, RI0tmak3r, roalf, rocknrollsor3z, ronnie22211, roryjones, rose nieman-black-targaryen, royalsweekend, ryuzaki 007, Sachan22, sammayday89, scarletraven3, scarymary54, sea16, seafeudjagger, seekerstf4, seven deadly, sincerlyanopportunist, skydivers, smorze101, soft sheep, something90, stark-ingmad, starkwolf95, starrside, storm sky, sweetsnow01, tanicullen, targaryenatheart, teemitchie, tesainge, that sweet bit, the jaded siren, the realtayler13, the zombie wolf, the bestabe16, thornewood, tusia0095, vexingvipervixen, victoriaether95, vine shadow, vixter9339, whitecherryblossom99, xo bella italiana ox, xxoriginaldirewolfhybridxx, yellow-phoenix25, yusuke kurosaki, yukki, .panteli. , anniearmitage, anti-social-wolf, antica, avergancefanficreader, blakeho123, bluepanther33158, britishteastorm, catonsullivan, chen12493, chyanne200, ciccia96, claudiacameron, crawler123, crystaltear 21, cumminsail, deadlady47, deadtrooper, digipokemon girl 000, dorodrigo, doc130195, drayna, drxmmergirlx, dutchangel1979, ellycup, estallias, fireystorm, franci92, fulla02, gridlocker, gtbmel, heichou, hrpritsng18, idreamtofu, iitrnr, ilikemyattitude, imjustsayin505, ingisned, jafcbutterfly, jarblatz, jealexandra3892, jean d'arc, jman007, josephy 590, josieposie456, kalika89, katyplops, kawiixkisses, kemo9005, kimber77xo, kimson, knightgorshade, koinzall, kvdsouza, ladymay03, ladyres, littleleanjel, lostfeather1, lousideandersen1991. luvudramione, lyrass zaaabooozaaa, m00nbunnie, miketheklym, mimi0992891, momorocks101ful, mpowers045, nabisoo, nathalie174347, nathaliedew98, nazmataz, nightsinsihadow, okaloosa, osito, patty,clark. 792, peinismo, petru969, pifolo, pointlessjourney, purple sky always, rangu, rayman898, royalteas, runwithcheetah24, rya13, salvatoresister887, sheepinkgirl, shereelousie60, sharsnix, skycord1990, slowbrow0609, soup4mepapi, spicyrash, 13, swathy, szirra, taytay4282, thearaouk, thecatclouder, thitbording, tinymurph, trickst3r-97, tyog56, voldyismyfather, whitneygreen48, wierdunusualchick, wildcat717, xLaciex, xxbeautifullyrebelliousxx, xxtoknowhisnamexx, xan-merrick, xchelsmg, .purple. flowersxxx, yyye, zombiexogirl.

And then to all the others who reviewed, Saint River, Marvelmyra, Kimmy, bleedingheart2xlola, to all the guests, rimms, imabitechu, klandgraf2007, ceralyn, cmedina1, figurativelydying, natalie, non, heartofbruce, michael, xxrosexscorpiousxxsaphire1998, aishiteru naru, loveofcolours, jellyfishnamedsquid, king of yawns, dcy, pointlessjourney, anna b. , atp, ladykatherine29, pablo, kblatz, mortzo, the shadow next to you, and finally to Amelia831, who was the first person to review, favorite and follow Blood must have Blood.

Thank you all for this incredible journey!

Until next time,

Fionakevin073