Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it means a lot. Thank you.

Apologies to anyone who was hoping for a crossbow incident – but I need both Tywin and Tyrion alive.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Journey's End

"Tyrion! Let me in!" Jaime sounded frantic as he shouted through the shut doors of the chamber. But the man himself remained unmoved. He had locked himself in, slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. Even when the unmistakable pounding of mailed fists violently jolted the door, he somehow managed to ignore it. "Tyrion, it's me! It's Jaime!" Desperately, as though Tyrion might have been hit with terrible amnesia, Jaime added: "Your brother!"

After that, all was silent. Tyrion knew he was still out there; no retreating footsteps sounded at all. Jaime was merely biding his time or giving his voice a restorative rest. In the meantime, he drained another bottle of wine and gulped the dregs down. He rolled the empty bottle across the wooden floor of his chamber towards five upright ones, just to see if he could knock them all down. The clatter of them hitting the decks seemed to revive Jaime.

"Joffrey locks himself in his room when he's sulking," he said into the keyhole. "Don't be like Joffrey."

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the obvious manipulation. Still, he caved and climbed unsteadily to his feet to unlatch the door. As soon as the metal clicked, Jaime shouldered his way inside before minds could be changed. He wrinkled his nose against the sour smell and immediately strode across the room to open the shutters on the windows. The sudden influx of bright sunlight made Tyrion wince and throw up one hand to shield his mismatched eyes.

"It burns!" he cried out in protest.

Unmoved, Jaime proceeded to open them to let in clean air. "Enough of this. Enough. Our friends from the North have been sighted approaching the Westerlands. Jon Stark has set up camp just beyond Crownlands. Daenerys Targaryen is crossing the Narrow Sea in ships loaned to her by Asha Greyjoy and the Manderlys. All the while, you're in here drowning your sorrows. This isn't you, brother."

Tyrion's head was spinning. "There's too much blood in my alcohol stream," he complained. "I can barely think straight and you expect me to function on a military level. Go speak to father, if he can stay out of his whore's bed for long enough."

Jaime sagged in dismay as he sat on the edge of Tyrion's bed. "Father has ridden out to Casterly Rock at the head of an army. If you had emerged from this pit at all over the last week, you would have known that."

Had it really been a full week? Tyrion wondered for a moment, then realised he did not care. "So why are you still here? Oh, don't tell me, to protect the King while he peels the skin off living men and watches them slowly die. What sort of an epitaph will Joffrey get, do you think? Aerys is the Mad King. Aegon is the Unworthy. How do you convey flaying in one snappy word?"

Jaime's jaw stiffened, teeth clenched. "You're not funny anymore, little brother."

"Probably because I'm no longer joking," he retorted. "We have nothing left to defend and trying to stop this coming war is only going to waste lives. All our lives."

"Which is why I wanted to talk to you- "

"I've already told you, I have no answer," Tyrion cut in.

"Just hear me out, brother. First, tell me truthfully, are you thinking of leaving us?"

Tyrion lowered his face, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up his scarred face. "After seeing father with- "He cut himself off, unable to say her name or willingly relive the last time he saw her. All the same, the scene played out in his head again. "The only reason I stay here is you and Tommen. If Myrcella wasn't safe in Dorne, she would be another reason. But Tommen is a sweet and gentle boy who deserves none of what is about to happen to him."

Jaime was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the toe-caps of his boots. "You're right. About Tommen, at least. Which is why I want you to go. It's why I'll beg you to go, if that's what it takes. But take him with you and keep him safe."

Tyrion thought on that for a second. Cersei would not like it, just as she hit the roof when the boy was taken to Rosby during Stannis' invasion. But with Jaime onside he could make it work. Better still, Tyrion thought further. "Why don't you come with us? You are his real father – you admit that yourself."

Jaime smiled a rueful smile, his green eyes subdued with regret. "And throw myself on the mercy of the man whose brother I crippled. How do you think that will work out?"

The admission made Tyrion feel like a mule had hoofed him in the chest. Shock and anger suddenly vied for dominance inside him. "It was you!" he gasped, climbing to his feet. Then disbelief came. "If Cersei made you do it, Jon will understand- "

"It wasn't Cersei!" Jaime shot back. "The boy saw us, he had climbed up a tower and he saw us. I panicked, thinking he would tell Robert I pushed him. Before you blame Cersei, know that she was furious with me afterwards."

Suddenly sobered, Tyrion's mind raced as he struggled to recall the events of their final days in Winterfell. Years had passed since then and so much had happened. But he remembered coming back from the wall to find Winterfell's library burned by a catspaw assassin. Slowly, he turned to look at Jaime wide eyed with horror. "You sent someone to stab the boy?"

"That was not me," Jaime protested. "I don't know who that was, but it wasn't me. You know I wouldn't do that."

"I feel like I don't know you at all anymore," Tyrion answered. "That boy was seven years old. But I suppose you would not confess to pushing the boy only to lie about trying to finish him off."

The worst part was Jaime did not try to defend what he had done. Even at that late stage, he had hoped there would be some mitigating circumstance, some valid reason for shoving a child off a roof. Something, anything, that could restore Jaime to the man Tyrion always thought he was. But nothing came.

"What's done is done," he said. Such a trite cliché made Tyrion want to slap him. As thought second guessing what he was thinking, Jaime hastily added: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so flippant."

Tyrion drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly to calm his nerves. "So, is this your retribution brother? To stand your ground and die for Cersei and Joff; sacrificing yourself so Tommen and I can make a safe getaway."

Jaime looked wounded. "You make even this sound like a selfish act. Please, Tyrion, do this for Tommen if not for me."

"Tommen will never be King; he is a bastard. Do not expect me to raise armies or flee to the Free Cities," he stated, flatly.

"And I would never ask you to," Jaime assured him. "All I want is for him to live a life away from …. away from all this." He gestured to the room at large, meaning the whole Court. "Somehow, Cersei and I created someone pure and completely innocent. We managed it twice- "

"All right, all right!" Tyrion cut in. "Spare me the self-loathing, please."

Jaime sighed heavily with relief. "Good. I've already squared it with the City Watch. You're leaving at sundown tonight."

Deciding it was best to ignore the presumption, Tyrion glanced up at the open window to where dusk was slowly gathering. "You mean right now?"

"Well …" Jaime tried to look apologetic. "No time like the present."

Exasperated, Tyrion got back to his feet. "And what about Cersei? Does she know about this? What exactly did you tell the City Watch?"

"I told them you're to parlay with Jon Stark and you're leaving in a cart to bring the northern host bread and barley as a gesture of good will. As for Cersei, she's been told Tommen is confined to Maegor's Holdfast. She won't know the truth until it's too late," explained Jaime. "I will deal with her."

Tyrion nodded, despite having half a hundred unanswered questions. Two hours later, headache in full swing, he was ambling through the north gates on a horse drawn cart with Jaime at his side. He was almost late, because he lost his keys at the last minute. He needed those keys badly. Under the roughspun sacking cloth stretched over his "bread and barley" Tommen slept off the effects of a sleeping draught that had been slipped into his warm milk. Ser Pounce, the cat, mewed softly as he curled up at Tyrion's side. At least he wouldn't be completely alone.

Just beyond the city gates, he stopped to look back. The flayed men were still lining the walls of the Red Keep. Some of them had been set alight so they could be seen at night. A nice touch added by Joffrey himself. He waited for Jaime to catch him up on his destrier. No matter what he had done and why, Tyrion refused to leave his brother on bad terms.

"This is it then," he said, once Jaime was level with him. "Goodbye, brother."

Jaime removed his helm and pushed his hair out of his face. He always looked so bloody perfect when he did that, Tyrion thought to himself. The two of them looked at each other, brilliant green eyes meeting is own blue and green mismatched ones.

"You know me, Tyrion. You know what I did and why," said Jaime, with reference to King Aerys. "It means nothing to anyone anymore, but I want you to tell them all the same. Tell them why I did what I did."

"You may be able to do it yourself." He was ever the optimist.

Jaime laughed. "You were always the realistic one. Don't make a habit of denying hard truths now, brother."

"Try to live, Jaime. You never know, it might just work." With that, there was no further reason to delay in the inevitable.

Jaime slapped the horse's rump to get it moving, which it did at a painfully slow rate. "Tyrion, one more thing."

He looked back over his shoulder, his brother getting farther and farther away. "What?"

"I never paid her. She wasn't a whore."

Tyrion had no reply. But Jaime didn't hang around waiting for one. His golden armoured self-turned and walked away.

Finally, they had marched out of Harrenhal and left the haunted ruins behind them. It felt like a weight being lifted from Jon's shoulders as he passed from beneath its shadow. But with such a vast host, they were forced to go slow until troops could be siphoned off and sent out to seize lands and fortresses in outlying lands. The Tarlys' and Fossoways were defending the Reach, where it bordered the Stormlands, the North were busy taking the Westerlands and Casterly Rock. The Knights of the Vale were about to advance farther south to secure the Stormlands with Lady Shireen and Ser Davos Seaworth at their head, or at least that was the plan. Jon and the Tyrells were to take King's Landing alone, with forces drawn from provisions of the other houses.

Even as they advanced south into Crownlands, reports of battles came trickling in. Randyll Tarly had engaged his troops in battle at Tumbleton and gained control of the river crossings, securing a safe enough passage to the Stormlands, which was good news for Shireen Baratheon. But it was the Northern campaign Jon was most nervous about. He had not heard from Robb in over a month, until a steward entered their camp as they besieged Antlers, the ancestral seat of House Buckwell.

"His Grace, the King in the North, met with a small band of Lannister men while crossing from the Riverlands into the Westerlands." All eyes in the room were on the Glover steward as he read the briefing aloud. "The force was easily cut down and set to flight, with minimal losses among the Northern host. From Riverrun, they marched directly to Golden Tooth where they again met minimal resistance. Refusing to tarry long, they then made for Sarsfield where they met a host led by Stafford Lannister and Lord Sarsfield himself. The battle lasted for four hours, with the castle being taken after Umber forces caved in the gates with battering rams and assaulting the walls with siege engines. Currently, northern forces with reinforcements from the Riverlands, are marching on Oxcross and will proceed no farther until Tywin Lannister arrives or his grace the King gives the command."

Jon breathed a sigh of relief as he returned to his seat at the table. The Lannister's forces were much too thinly spread and Dorne had not come out for them. Meanwhile, Garlan dismissed the messenger, who vacated the pavilion tent promptly, only to reappear a second later.

"Ser Davos Seaworth and Lady Shireen of House Baratheon to see you, Your Grace."

Jon nodded. "Send them in, please."

He greeted the little girl with a bow, as he always did, just to see the smile on her face. Ser Davos he welcomed with a more conventional handshake. Loras and Garlan made space for them at the table, pulling up vacant chairs.

"Ser Davos, I think you understand by now we cannot support any rival claimant to the throne," Jon said, frankly. "What we can do is see to it that Lady Shireen takes what is rightfully hers as the Lady and heir of House Baratheon. We know King Robert bore no legitimate issue, so Tommen and Myrcella Lannister are struck from his line of succession. Edric Storm is unaccounted for and Gendry Waters is unfit to rule, anyway."

The older man looked crestfallen. In contrast, the girl was still smiling. "Ser Davos can still be my chief advisor, can't he? Even though he fought for my father."

Jon exchanged a look with Margaery before answering her. "Ser Davos followed his king, my lady, as was his duty. If he serves you half as well as he served your father, I'm sure he'll help you become a great and just leader."

"I thank you, your grace," Ser Davos said. "In return for my lady's birth right, my sword and ships are yours for the coming wars. By rights, House Buckwell ought to be supporting my lady so I'll be keen to see what happens when we take this castle."

"Whatever happens here, the Knights of the Vale will ride out with you to take the Stormlands," Jon assured him. "Lord Tarly and Lord Fossoway have already significant gains on the boundary lines. After that, your assistance at sea would come in most helpful, if you agree."

Davos agreed readily. He had already proved a life saver in one infamous siege so Jon did not presume to instruct him on how to conduct the campaign. Especially not in front of the Tyrells, whose siege it was the Onion Knight defied.

"All these years later and I'm still trying to figure out how you got past our ships, Ser Davos." Mace's sentiments dropped into a well of stiff silence.

"Not now father," Garlan whispered in his ear, then turned apologetically to the Knight. "That was a very different era, Ser Davos. We thank you for your cooperation now."

Ser Davos raised a knowing smile. "Black sails, my lord. And a healthy disregard for the rules of nobility."

As Ser Davos left, a breathless knight, flushed in the face, burst into the tent. His tunic bore the sigil of House Buckwell. The sight of him brought an expectant silence to the pavilion, Jon rising to his feet.

"We yield," said the knight. "My Lord beseeches your grace to allow his servants and staff to leave in peace, and that his lady and heir be left unmolested."

Jon smiled as sighs of relief breathed around the room. "Well met, ser. Tell Lord Buckwell we will respect his wishes so long as he bends the knee and swears fealty to Lady Shireen."

But they wasted no time at Antlers. Come dawn they were on the move again, headed toward Rosby. Jon and Margaery led the way, both mounted on destriers as they charged down the roads, inching ever closer to King's Landing. By now, he knew, the Lannisters would be sweating. They set up overnight camps in flat, open ground, fearing no attacks now they had scored their first victories. Then, on the fifth day after Antlers, they slowed to allow what looked like a hay cart to pass. Fearing an ambush, the cart was soon surrounded by men at arms until Jon gave the command for them to stand down. From his distance, it looked to be manned by two children. As he got closer, he could see that the man steering was no child at all.

Jon dismounted, cautious and apprehensive. Behind him, Margaery implored him to take care but he did not respond.

"Lord Tyrion," he called out, still unsure. There was more than one dwarf in the world, but not many missing a nose. It seemed those rumours were true. "Have you come to parlay?"

"Your grace, forgive us for crashing your party. We wondered if you might have room for two more."

Tyrion had hopped down off his cart, leaving the chubby blond boy playing with a cat. He waddled into the arms of the enemy, unfazed by the arrows trained on him. But then, Jon knew the dwarf had had arrows trained on him since birth, both visible and invisible. But the Lannisters' appearance sent a frenzy of whispering down the army lines. Jon held up his hand to try and silence them.

"You may remember my nephew, Tommen Lannister," Tyrion gestured to the boy. "We hoped- "

"Why shouldn't we put a sword through both your hearts right now?" Loras Tyrell appeared from behind his sister's horse.

"Because I can help you and my nephew is an innocent," Tyrion pointed out, hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

The sound of running footsteps sounded from further back, a girl's voice calling out his name. After several minutes of tense standoff, Sansa pushed her way through the gathering crowds with Lady trotting obediently behind her. She came right up to Jon, her face creased in anguish.

"Please, don't hurt him," she pleaded. "Lord Tyrion saved me, Jon. Remember, I told you. He saved me from Meryn Trant and those other cruel men and he never let Joffrey hurt me when he was around."

Jon nodded. She was meant to be headed back to Winterfell with Arya and Lady Stark, only she insisted on returning south at the last minute. Sandor Clegane was close at her back, his face blank as he regarded Lannister.

"In return for protecting my sister, we'll hear you out." It was as far as he was willing to go, for now.

Balerion the ship skimmed the waves as a fair wind filled her sails. The hemp ropes creaked under the strain and great squalls of spray crashed over the gunwales. Daenerys savoured the salt-tang scent that surrounded her, a smell that reminded her of her childhood as she and Viserys fled from city to city. Often they would stow away on a ship not knowing where it was going. Year after year they had lived like that. Always running and always looking over their shoulder.

But Dany wasn't running anymore. Here her journey ended. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the distant horizon, watching as the smudge of land grew and formed before her very eyes. With every list of the ship and billow in the sails, her sense of purpose solidified. She fled the approaching island as a new born babe, unwittingly beginning a hand to mouth life on the run. Now she was back with an army in the belly of her fleet and her dragons circling overhead.

"Dragonstone, my lady." Sam fell into step beside her and pointed. "Welcome home."

She smiled, turning to face with tears welling in her eyes. "My whole life has been leading up to this moment. Now we're almost there."

The fleet plunged through the rolling waters, but not even Sam suffered the effects now. Only the size of her dragons troubled her. They had grown during the voyage, all three of them. But they were nowhere near large enough to engage in battle. Drogon, perhaps, would be able to fly over the walls of Dragonstone, to deliver a fiery message to the occupiers inside. It might be enough of a distraction for them to land and begin their invasion. Time would tell.

In the meantime, Dragonstone loomed huge and threatening on the horizon. Dany had to crane her neck to look up at the uppermost turrets and towers. She could even see the expressions on the faces of the stone gargoyles. The scarlet Lannister standard was draped between the merlons, causing her heart to beat a little faster. Lannister archers watched their approach from the battlements, but they were still clean out of range. Suddenly Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal formed up together, ascending beyond the clouds and out of sight. When they swooped down again they were over the castle itself and the terrified shouts of men rang out over the sound of waves. A river of flame lit up the darkening skies, men in silhouette turned and fled. But plenty of arrows shot through the dusk, aimed at the dragons who swiftly soared out of range again. Only Viserion seemed grazed.

"To the oars!" a cry rang out on every boat in the fleet. "To the oars!"

A drum beat began pounding from every ship in her rag-tag fleet, calling on the oarsmen to take up their duties. Meanwhile, Dany joined hands with Sam and her new translator, Missandei. Now it began.

Jon helped put up the pavilion tent two miles south of Rosby. They had found the castle almost devoid of life, the lord and his men holed up in King's Landing with the royal army. Instead of wasting time on it, they marched on toward King's Landing. It was there, just as they were about step inside their temporary home, that the messenger came running through the camp. The light of his lantern bobbed madly as he crossed the rugged terrain.

"Your Grace," he said, breathless from running. "Daenerys Targaryen's forces have landed at Dragonstone. So far, only one of her dragons has been injured while breathing fire over the watchmen. She comes with eight thousand Unsullied and twenty Dothraki. By morn, she will sail up the Blackwater to meet you in the capital."

Jon thanked the man, dismissing him with a bottle of fine wine as payment for good news borne fast. "We'll have to clear the way for her. So I must have the Red Keep by evenfall."

"I think we can manage that," Garlan assured him. "Now, I think it's time we had a talk with Lannister."

While they waited for Lord Tyrion and Tommen to arrive, their stewards brought out venison and boiled vegetables, served with white wine and small ale for those looking to keep a clear head. However, Jon didn't feel like eating, knowing the battle that lay ahead the next day. Margaery looked at him, worried and paling.

"Darling, you must keep your strength up," she said, nudging a roast chicken leg in his direction.

He took it to keep her happy, then fed it to Ghost while she was distracted by her father.

Having made it to their table in good time, Tyrion was invited to join them there. Beside him sat Prince Tommen, who introduced Jon to his pet cat.

"This is Ser Pounce," he happily declared, holding the creature up for all to see. "I had another cat too, but Joffrey made him disappear."

Margaery managed an indulgent smile. "Really? He's a very handsome cat, isn't he? And next time you see Joffrey, I'm sure he'll be paying back for a lot more than just a vanished cat."

Jon hid his laugh and took some wine.

"Please excuse my nephew," said Tyrion. "But I did warn you he was innocent."

"I didn't realise you meant it quite so literally, my lord," replied Jon. "I remember him from when he came with you to Winterfell. He's a good lad and I would have no harm come to him,"

Rhaenys was innocent too, he thought. So was Aegon and Princess Elia. But no children would be slaughtered in his name. Things would change when he took over.

"Tell me, is Myrcella happy in Dorne?" he asked.

"I think so. Aries Oakheart is with her and he reports that she and Trystane are close," he answered. "Although whether the Martells will be happy to wed their trueborn son to a bastard born of in- "he cut himself off, remembering Tommen close by. "A child born of an unconventional union, shall we say."

That was one way to describe Tommen's parents. "Well, if she is happy and the Martells are happy, I am content to leave her there. She will not be harmed or hunted in anyway."

"Good. Now that's settled, you may be interested to know that it seems your brother has come back to life," Tyrion explained. Seeing the look of confusion on Jon's face, he hastily clarified. "Aegon, I mean. Not Robb, who is very much making his corporeal presence felt in the Westerlands."

"Pardon." Jon and Margaery chorused.

Overhearing what was said, Mace, Garlan and Loras gathered around to get the full story.

"There's a young man claiming to be Aegon Targaryen currently sailing between the Free Cities. Varys knows about him, along with a Pentos' merchant by the name Ilyrio Mopatis. My guess is, they're waiting for you to take King's Landing, dismiss your army and catch you at unawares. It's an age old trick and I wouldn't be surprised if more than one high lord tries it. It was Balon Greyjoy who did it to Robert. But, your grace, forewarned is forearmed."

Jon heaved a sigh. He didn't even have the crown yet and already it was being contested.

"I have a gift for you as well," Tyrion stated, as if trying to take the sting from his previous news.

Warily, Jon watched as he produced a large set of keys from a sack he had had slung over his shoulder. Large and old, they glimmered dully in the pale candlelight.

"When you get to King's Landing tomorrow the gates will be open," he said, handing Jon the keys. "Because they're currently unable to lock the damn things."

A smile spread slowly over Jon's face as he held them up to the light.

"You will still need to take the Red Keep itself, of course," Tyrion added. "But free access to the city should make it easier. If I were you I'd focus on the walls of Maegor's Holdfast."

Loras was unconvinced. "Why are you helping us?"

"Because I want Casterly Rock and I want my nephew granted safe passage home," he replied, frank as ever.

"You shall have it," Jon agreed. "But depending on what this Aegon does, I have a feeling you'll be needed in the capital. Tell me, what is happening inside the Red Keep?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I left over two weeks ago. But Joffrey is being taught to skin men alive by your own former bannerman and their corpses are lined up along the walls. So watch out for them. Roslin Frey could already be married to Joff, but she is an innocent in all this. The Freys' may feel affronted by your ignoring them, but they're much more furious about Roslin's ill treatment at the hands of Joffrey. I have a feeling they may switch sides, but don't quote me on that. The Boltons, however, will fight you tooth and nail. Ramsay has no idea that Cersei is planning to kill him if they win the battle." Tyrion paused to catch his breath and formulate his explanation. "The people inside the city are starving. Your reign could get off to no better start than if you came with supplies of bread, clean water, fruit and meats from the Reach."

"We're working on it," Margaery assured him. "I will help distribute it myself."

There was only so much they could plan. Everything rested on the battle. But they were so close to the capital now Jon could almost smell the pits of Flea Bottom.

At dawn, their advance on King's Landing continued apace. But it was where he said farewell to Margaery, who would be kept safe from the fighting in a nearby sanctuary. Before they parted company, they met in the marquee they used for sleeping in. Greeting him with a kiss, she began fixing his armour herself. Lastly, she fastened the steel gauntlets over his hands before reaching for Dark Sister.

"Today, just focus on the battle," she said. "Aegon, or whatever his name is, he can wait. But today you take the realm for yourself."

Taking the sword, he kissed her again. "You stay safe with your mother and grandmother."

She tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Remember, I love you. When battle is at its thickest, wear this and think of me."

He looked down to her wrists, where she pulled out a long strip of green silk bordered with gold. She tied her favour around his wrist and kissed him again. "Come back safe."

"I will," he promised. "You know I will, my Queen."

Outside the marquee, the sun rose sullen and meek over the land. Jon knew it was time to go.

Twenty men had ridden out of the tunnel beside Castle Black. Three months later, only eight of them were returned. Dazed, half-starved and wounded from a skirmish with Wildlings, Theon Greyjoy did his best to lead them safely home. But one more died not long after making it, while Maester Aemon was administering medicine. All Theon could do was watch and feel the weight of his failure increase. The worst of it had happened in the Frost Fangs. A great army of the dead had fallen on them, their arrows and swords useless against them. Now those cold blue eyes, like chips of ice, haunted him wherever he went.

"I saw the dead rise, Maester," he later told Maester Aemon. "Nothing stops them. Call me mad, but I know what I saw. The others can back me up, too. We can't all be mad."

He knew what he saw and he told himself that over and over. When he first arrived at Castle Black the wall seemed so huge, so vast. But knowing that it was all that stood between Westeros and them, it seemed small and insubstantial. Ice melted. He saw the wall weep and sweat every day. He heard it cracking and groaning in the warming air. If it fell, the army of the undead would march into the realms of men. To stop them – people like him. Outcasts and life's failures. Bastards, rapers and thieves.

"Fire stops them," Aemon eventually replied. "Fire, Valyrian steel and obsidian. Needless to say, I don't think you're mad."

A sense of hopelessness closed over him again. "And where do we find that?"

Aemon seemed unflappably calm. "There's places, Theon. All is not lost."

On top of it all, a vast host of Wildlings were marching south determined to find safety on their side of the wall. Tribes too numerous to mention all united under Mance Rayder. Human beings, just like him and the other brothers, fleeing from the same enemy that threatened them all. But if he dared suggest they join forces with the Wildlings, Thorne would have him catapulted off the top of the Nightfort.

"We can't do this unless we get more reinforcements and soon," Theon said, crossing to the turret window to he could see out over the wall. "The southern lords are still warring, many leagues from here. Not even the Starks can help us now."

And would they help him, after what he had done? Surely they would not let the realm fall because of a personal feud. All Theon knew was that it no longer mattered who sat the Iron Throne. If the wall fell, they were all royally fucked.

Thanks again for reading. Reviews would be lovely, if you have a minute.

Well, it was a struggle to make a fast insurrection even remotely interesting so I hope it wasn't too dull or rushed.

Next chapter is basically one big pitched battle taking place in strategic points across Westeros: Robb Vs Tywin in the Westerlands. Dany Vs Dragonstone and Lannisters. Jon Vs Lannisters and Boltons in King's Landing. Finally, after a year of writing, this fic is coming to fruition. Thank you again for your continued support which really helps me keep the faith with this one!