So I'm not actually back… not really. But despite still not having written more than 5,000 words in 4 months this chapter has been finished for a while, and so in order to hopefully kick me back into some form of writing mode I decided to upload this and hope that the response can motivate me.

Thank you to everyone for your patience and for the kind words in the reviews and PM's, and I will hopefully be back uploading more regularly soon.

One of the biggest things that Robb was starting to learn about leadership was that plans never often worked exactly as you lay them out. He had marched from Winterfell to rescue his Father and sisters, yet almost two years on he still hadn't seen his sisters, and his Father was dead. His plan to march Northwards was also quickly halted when a pair of riders in the fish scale armour of House Tully arrived at the Twins bearing a letter addressed to Robb, and only Robb. In a short span of time between reading the letter and barking out a number of orders to his guards, the King in the North quickly gathered the few Northern Lords that remained at his wife's ancestral castle to adapt the plan once again.

"My Grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully, is dead." He announced solemnly to the smaller group, filled mainly of the west coast Northerners. "He passed peacefully in his sleep, my Mother writes."

"Our condolences, Your Grace." Lord Glover bowed his head.

"Thank you." Robb nodded his appreciation. "Though this means that I must travel to Riverrun for his funeral. I will take but a handful of guards for speed, and I aim to be back before Howland Reed makes contact."

He could see the nervous faces of his men. Gregor Forrester however was the one to speak up. "And what if he does so before your return, Your Grace?"

"Then Lord Glover has command until I am back." Robb said quickly, looking at his bannerman. "We want to surround the Moat, so if I do not arrive back at the Twins before Lord Reed then you are to begin your march through the Neck but ensure that you stay out of sight of Moat Cailin until Lord Umber attacks, then this group here shall take the Ironborn from the North."

Lord Glover nodded, his face beaming with pride until he had a thought. "What if Stannis Baratheon beats me there?"

Robb thought for a moment, looking at the map. "We have more men than he does, but we should slow his progress nonetheless." He surmised. "Have the Maester send ravens to White Harbour and Dawnforest. Lord Manderly and Lord Mollen can keep his pace slower until we are ready for him."

"Aye." The murmurs sounded around the table.

Robb stood upright, looking around. "I will be leaving within the hour. With any luck I shall be back within the fortnight." He announced. "I have faith in all of you here, but the Neck is a treacherous place. Listen to Lord Howland, he will know the area better than anybody else." He gathered up the rest of his things. "Stay alive until I return, My Lords."

And with that he departed, leaving Galbert Glover to take the lead. The Stark made his way quickly to his chambers where he noticed that a couple of Frey women were gathering his wife's things. "We won't be gone for long, so don't pack too much that the horses cannot carry." He told them, and spotted movement behind the folding screen, and realised that his wife was getting dressed. "And we shall be travelling fast, so make sure you are in comfortable riding clothes."

Roslin appeared, and thankfully her dress was a plain grey one, suitable for horseback. "Do not worry, husband, we are well prepared." She insisted.

Robb nodded, noting that only three saddlebags were filled with Roslin's clothes. "Good. Once Torrhen Karstark has retrieved the Kingslayer we shall be off. My Ladies, you should ensure your things are also ready." He said to the Frey attendants. They all curtseyed and scurried off, leaving the King and Queen alone in their bedchamber.

"You look troubled." Roslin said. "I may not know you well, Your Grace, but I can already tell what it means when your brow is forming that shape."

Robb snorted quietly in amusement. "Soon I will be unable to hide anything from my perceptive Queen." He noted, turning to face the window. "I am worried. Worried that despite knowing I must pay my respects that I am needed elsewhere. Worried at seeing my Mother again after her treason. Worried that in my absence Stannis Baratheon will break my force and leave me both homeless and without an army to retake it…"

He quickly felt a soft hand brush against his arm and turned his head to see his wife had joined him. "You started a war for your family." She explained. "You might feel like you have the weight of the North on your shoulders, but for the moment trust in your men and just be there for your family." She chuckled. "And be grateful that it isn't as large or as fractured as mine."

Robb nodded, still not quite believing that he could afford to put aside his country for any period of time but appreciating his wife's help. "Thank you." He said to her. "Come, we should go."

He took her hand and began to walk out towards the castle stables, and in a matter of minutes a party of around a dozen departed the Twins, ready to say goodbye to Lord Hoster Tully.

Oberyn Martell was a formidable ally. Immediately after his meeting with Varys, Luke had gone straight to the Dornishman and given him the task of investigating Lord Baelish, and it was barely a couple of days later that the Prince of Dorne was stood inside the King's solar with a stack of papers.

"Please, Prince Oberyn, sit." Luke gestured, pouring out two glasses of Dornish Red for them both.

Prince Oberyn did as he was asked, placing the papers on the desk and taking a sip of the drink. "I am pleased that despite your upcoming nuptials you understand the difference between a good wine and a… mediocre one."

Luke chuckled. "Already Arbor ships are coming into harbour with barrels and barrels of the Reach's finest. I fear the wedding feast will be strictly Arbor. I must enjoy the sourness of the Dornish concoction whilst I can." He took a sip himself. "Though I'm of a mind to send for some Tyroshi Brandy, have you tried that?"

"I have." Oberyn nodded. "It was a bit too sweet for my liking, though I enjoyed many an enjoyable evening drunk on it."

Luke laughed louder this time, nodding. "We raided a warehouse filled with the stuff when last in Tyrosh. I was going to toast Daenerys and Valarra with a case when I got back…" He trailed off, his eyes glaring down at the table as he remembered the horrors that awaited him back at Volon Therys after that raid. "But anyway, we are not here to talk about drinks. You have found something?" He asked.

Nodding, Oberyn began to separate the documents. "These are all from ledgers hidden in the walls of his offices. The books that Littlefinger produced to the Council were often fabricated to a small degree, and he would siphon off a small amount each month for his own gains, bribing guards and officials to do his own bidding."

Luke swore. "How much?"

"He was here for years." Oberyn shrugged. "Thousands of gold dragons by the end of it."

Scowling, Luke took the parchments to read through them. "Bribes to the Gold Cloaks, bribes to the dock hands, bribes to the servants… where wasn't he?" Oberyn said nothing to that. "Is this enough to have him found guilty?"

"Of fraud, definitely. Potentially even of treason by the time we locate his gold, yes." Oberyn stated. "Though of the murder of Lord Arryn, we would need to know the full chain of events and where Littlefinger got his poison from."

Luke knew enough about the Dornishman in front of him to know that there was more. "Go on."

Oberyn smirked. "He had one of his whores travel to Lys. It was supposedly for extra training, though in this girl's inventory she had a small bottle of a white Lyseni wine. The dockhand that checked her things has told me that it was a clear liquid."

Luke had experienced the Lyseni white. It was a sweet drink, too sweet for his tastes, but one thing it certainly was not was clear. "That's the poison." Luke smirked victoriously. "That's the link we need. Baelish arranged for his whore to collect it and bring it back to him. He then gave it to Lysa Arryn, who poured it in his drink."

"I have the whore in custody in the Black Cells." Oberyn explained. "With your permission, I will squeeze every drop of information from her lips."

Luke pondered on his actions for a moment. "This is enough to let the Vale know that we have some information. Leave these documents with me and I will examine every detail before writing to Lord Royce. Find out what you can from the girl, but make sure she lives. We will need her testimony."

"As you say, Your Grace." Oberyn bowed. The Dornishman rose to his feet and took three steps towards the door before pausing and turning back. "There is one more thing… I found a young girl inside one of Littlefinger's establishments. She was Northern and named herself Jeyne Poole, claimed to know Lady Stark."

"Jeyne Poole?" Luke didn't recognise the name immediately, but his eyes widened in recognition as he thought back on his first conversation with Sansa Stark. "Lady Sansa mentioned a friend… have this girl brought to me. At least this is some good news for our Stark guest..." He shuddered at the memory of seeing the fine rug Cersei had made out of the girl's direwolf. "Excellent work, Prince Oberyn."

Oberyn bowed again. "Your Grace." He said before departing the solar, leaving Luke with the stack of papers to comb through.

Arya Stark was confused. After their daring escape from Harrenhal and capture again by the Brotherhood Without Banners, she had almost hoped that finally she would be free to go with her friends and travel back home as she pleased. Hot Pie however had stayed behind at the inn, and then as the group crossed the Trident along the River Road, the Brotherhood split up again. The majority travelled Southwards, taking the Hound with them, whilst Thoros of Myr and a handful of others continued Westwards.

"Where are you taking us?" She demanded to know.

Thoros looked over at her and smirked. "There's no need to build your defences back up. You are in no danger."

Arya scowled. "How do I know that when I'm still a prisoner."

Sighing in exasperation at the number of times he had already told her, the foreigner shook his head again. "You're no prisoner, little lady. We're escorting you."

"Where?" Arya demanded to know.

"Riverrun." Gendry piped up from behind the pair. "I overheard you telling someone when you were pissing."

Arya was at first surprised, and then a grin appeared on her lips. "You're taking me to Riverrun?"

Thoros nodded. "If the war was still on I'd take you to our camp. We'd keep you there for a while and then decide where would be best to sell you too." He admitted. "But the war in the South is over for the moment. The Lannisters are broken and a dragon sits the Iron Throne. Best take you home, child, we'll claim our reward from your Grandfather at Riverrun and be on our merry way helping the people to rebuild their lives."

It was extortion, Arya knew, but at that point she didn't care. "I'm really going home?" She asked hopefully.

"Your Mother is at Riverrun as we speak. As is your Uncle." Thoros explained. "Last I heard your sister was still in King's Landing, but if this dragon king wants further peace she will be unharmed." He sniffed arrogantly. "The Lord of Light has smiled on us all, so yes, I'm taking you to your family."

Arya grinned, before focusing firmly on the road as her horse led her along it. Though a few minutes later Gendry's voice piped up again from behind her. "What about me?"

Both Arya and Thoros turned their heads to look at him. Thoros sighed. "You, I don't know. You're free to do as you wish." He tapped his new chest plate. "Though this is fine work, we could do with a man of your skills in the Brotherhood. You'll have yourself somewhat of a forge, I'm eager to see what you can create."

The thought genuinely saddened Arya, and so she piped up. "You're coming with me, right? To Winterfell. Robb will find a place for you, I know he will. He'll listen to me."

She looked pleadingly at him, but Gendry said nothing, seemingly mulling up his options. When it was clear she wasn't getting an answer Arya turned back to face forwards, her anticipation at being so close to her family almost being dented by the thought of saying goodbye to someone else.

There was never a moments rest within King's Landing. Luke was constantly having to deal with the investigation into Lord Baelish or wedding preparations, and so it was a bit of a welcome break when his evening was interrupted by an announcement of Tully banners had entered through the Gate of the Gods. Luke quickly made his way into the Throne Room to sit on the Iron Throne, with all seven of his Kingsguard stood below and Jon Connington stood to his right. As he waited, he looked around to admire the fully furnished room.

Behind Luke's head was the stained-glass window depicting the dragons from Targaryen history flying around the family sigil, whilst either side of the window hung the dragon skulls of Vhagar and Meraxes. Balerion's own skull rested above the large doors on the other side of the room, whilst in between on the left-hand wall as Luke was looking were the skulls of the greatest of the remaining Targaryen dragons, Caraxes, Dreamfyre, Meleys, Silverwing and Vermithor. Hanging from each of the pillars in the room facing inwards were Targaryen banners, both the crimson family banner and Luke's own golden banner intermittently. The floor had also been completely redone, and instead of the light stone Luke had instructed for a dark marble to be laid, with crimson vines snaking down the room. A golden carpet was also stretched out between the doors and the Iron Throne. It finally looked like his own space and not a Baratheon one.

The doors swung open as Luke was admiring the Throne Room, and he was surprised to see an older man in black Tully armour being escorted in by two of his guards. Despite having never met the man, the armour gave away exactly who he was about to speak to. Whistling, he smirked as he heard the flapping leathery wings of Valaxes as the black and crimson dragon swooped down from the gallery to rest on his shoulders.

"You are in the presence of Lucerys Targaryen, the First of his Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm." Jon explained as Ser Brynden Tully came to a halt at the end of the golden carpet.

The Blackfish merely looked into Luke's eyes. "The First Men might disagree with that claim. As might some Andals."

"Perhaps they would." Luke countered. "But I presume you are here to begin the process of enlightening those that would claim separation from my rule."

The Blackfish's expressions gave nothing away. "Perhaps I am. Though having had to sneak past Southern forces camped in my own homeland near the Tully stronghold of Harrenhal doesn't give off the impression that you want to end this conflict peacefully."

Luke nodded, though his immediate thoughts were of how Loras had been beaten to Harrenhal by the Rivermen. "As of right now the Riverlands, the Vale and the North have not bent their knees towards me. I must take precautions where I can, Ser Brynden, to ensure that those regions bend their knees peacefully or by force."

"It can happen peacefully, if you agree to my King's terms." The Blackfish explained, holding sealed parchment in his hands.

Luke nodded for Ser Barristan to go and retrieve the papers whilst also nodding for a servant to step forwards to give the Tully bread and salt as tradition demanded. "I can assure you though that I have no wish to fight the Northern alliance if it can be helped. I sent a force to Harrenhal to take it from the Lannisters, if you beat us to it then that explains why the Tyrell force is simply camped." He studied the grey Direwolf seal for a split second before opening up the letter. "Reparations to the Riverlords affected by the Lannister invasion…" He listed. "Return of Sansa, Arya and Ice as well as the bones of any Northerner that died under Joffrey Waters…" He sighed. "And a host of other demands." He folded up the parchment. "We already sent word to you that Arya is not under our protection and all investigations into her disappearance came back with nothing, so there is nothing I can do there I'm afraid. The other terms we can discuss in more detail in the morning." Luke explained. "For now, a room has been prepared for you in the same corridor as your niece, I am sure you will wish to see her."

"That would be appreciated." The Blackfish nodded.

"Ser Caspor, Ser Taron." Luke called down to two of his Kingsguard. "Please escort Ser Brynden to his rooms and allow him to see Lady Sansa." The pair turned to face the King and bowed dramatically. "I shall call for you in the morning, Ser. We shall discuss this further then." The Blackfish said nothing further, simply excusing himself with the pair of Kingsguard knights and exiting the room. Once the doors slammed shut Luke slumped in the Iron Throne more comfortably and turned to face Jon. "He wasn't even concerned by Valaxes."

"He's a formidable man." Jon noted. "If he wasn't concerned, he would have made a remark against you for trying to force your hand."

Luke wasn't so sure, but he nodded anyway. "Go and speak with Tyrion, Jon. The reparations are a fair request from Stark, I would see an agreement made there between the Lannisters and the Tullys."

Jon nodded. "I shall do so now. You should get some rest though, Luke. Tomorrow will be important. The new Grand Maester should arrive tonight too."

The Targaryen knew that he needed his rest, but he also knew that Jon was only looking out for him and so he simply nodded. "You're right, I'll retire for the evening. Perhaps spend it with Visenya and Dany."

Jon frowned but bowed all the same. "I'll ensure Ser Barristan chaperones. Don't worry, I'll greet Gormon on your behalf." Was his parting shot, causing Luke to snort in laughter at the departing back of his Hand.

Ever since her talk with the Targaryen King, Sansa had indeed had more freedom. Two days before she probably would have even considered Margaery Tyrell to be her best friend as the future Queen had made time to introduce her to her family and actually included her. That was until the King had appeared at her door with Jeyne Poole in tow, and for the last two days the Northern girls hadn't even left one another's side to use the chamber pots.

Jeyne was a mess. She flinched at any form of sound and not even Sansa's presence beside her at night could stop the poor girl weeping herself to sleep. Before the massacre it had been Jeyne tending to Sansa's hair and clothes, but now it was the other way around, with the Stark girl taking care not to accidentally touch any place that would upset her.

There wasn't a lot that Sansa could do as she brushed her friend's hair when a rough knock at the door sounded through the room however, and she felt Jeyne tense up in front of her. "Hush now, Jeyne." Sansa whispered soothingly. "It will just be the Kingsguard."

And she was right, as Ser Caspor Hill entered the chambers. "Forgive me, My Lady." The uncouth knight said unusually formally. "You have a visitor."

Jeyne started shaking at that word, and so Sansa kept a hand on her shoulder as she looked and saw an elder man in black scaled armour, the Tully trout on his chest. She broke into a large smile at the sight of him, though she knew they would get no privacy as Ser Caspor closed the door with himself still being inside her room. "Uncle Brynden, I presume."

"My reputation proceeds me." The man noted. "Gods girl, you look so much like your Mother."

Sansa felt herself blush, but she turned to Jeyne. "Go and get yourself ready for bed, Jeyne. Nobody will harm you here I swear it." The Poole girl was stiff with fear, but she nodded nonetheless and gingerly got up and made her way through to the next room where they slept. "Lord Baelish will pay for what he did." Sansa muttered fiercely.

"Petyr did that?" The Blackfish asked, surprised. "I suppose it's been a long time since I saw him myself." He stared down at Sansa. "Less time since I saw your Mother though, she is at Riverrun, waiting for her girls."

That was the catalyst for a tear to drop down Sansa's cheek. "She's ok?" She asked. "I only hear whispers and half-truths…"

"She is fine, only missing her children." Ser Brynden nodded. "I'm afraid I won't be able to take you with me child but know that I am here to end this all if I can. Soon you will be free to go home, I swear it."

It seemed too good to be true. "I hate it here." She whispered, not caring if the Kingsguard heard. "Everyone died… Lady… Cersei turned her into a rug!" She clenched a fist in anger. "I hate them all, Lannisters, Baratheons…"

"Careful child." Ser Brynden hushed, stopping Sansa before she insulted the wrong family. "We can speak plainly again when you are freed. Thankfully this dragon seems to be taking care of you." He looked over at the wall above Sansa's sewing table. "And you're not defenceless I see."

Ice had been attached to the wall for her, and Sansa looked at it with a sad smile. "It's both a comfort and a torture." She admitted. "It's Father's sword, yet Father was killed with it." She sniffed. "Father, Arya, Bran and Rickon. All of them are gone, Uncle."

Ser Brynden shook his head. "Think of those awaiting you girl, think of your Mother, think of your brother. You may even have a nephew or niece to dote on when you return to us."

That thought was oddly comforting to her. "Robb is wed?"

"He is." He confirmed. "And both he and Queen Roslin are eager to have you back with us."

Sansa chuckled, sitting down at a table and gesturing for Ser Brynden to join her. "Please, Uncle, tell me it all…"

And he did, long into the night did Ser Brynden tell her everything that had happened within Robb's camp. She found out the truth of why she was beaten and humiliated by Joffrey, of the fracture in her Mother's relationship with Robb, but the story she loved best of all was the story of Robb's wedding because for the first time since King Robert had died, it gave her hope of the future.

The Baratheon force had made camp in a small, forested area on the west bank of the Last River, and they hadn't even made it an hour before trouble had found them. The scouts had found 4 bodies, dressed in Bolton armour, each with the same make of arrow inside them. Stannis had immediately sent trackers out to follow the murderers trail.

Then the rightful King had begun to plan his assault on the nearby Dreadfort. It would be a tough castle to take, but Stannis knew that even the strongest castle was only as strong as its weakest man, and so the long process of working out where that would come began. He had his men clean and repair the armour of the dead Boltons to be used as a diversion if needs be, though that sort of trickery wasn't what he was looking for. Stannis needed a victory and he needed to be seen doing so.

His thoughts were interrupted when a man announced himself outside his tent. "Your Grace. The scouts are back with two men in tow. One of them claims to be Theon Greyjoy."

That caught Stannis' attention. "Send me my wife, and Melisandre." He ordered, before covering up his maps and his plans before the men were escorted in.

One was grimy, covered in mud and blood, while the other was dressed well, and only had faint signs of dirt on his clothing. Stannis stood as tall as he could and stared down at the pair of them imposingly until the tent opened, and in came the two red headed women.

"Theon?" Alys Karstark gasped, before her face shone with rage. "You traitorous…"

"Enough." Stannis interrupted firmly. "Which one is Greyjoy?" He asked her.

Alys pointed at the dirtier of the pair. "Him. I know the other one too, that's Ramsay Snow."

Stannis had heard dark rumours of the Bastard of Bolton from his new Northern banners. "The Tormentor of Lady Hornwood." He muttered.

"And a kinslayer to boot." Alys spat on the ground. "Dom was kind, you spit on all Northerners with your evil, Snow." She accused.

The pair had been gagged, and Stannis was in no mind to hear from either of them. He looked over at the guard holding down Theon Greyjoy. "Take him and secure him. Ensure he is bathed and fed as his station demands. Keep him away from the Northmen, he could be the key to lure the Stark traitor to us."

"Your Grace." The man bowed, dragging Theon Greyjoy away with him, leaving only Ramsay Snow knelt before him.

"Kill him, Your Grace." Alys spat darkly, and Stannis had never seen such venom in the young girls eyes. "Execute him for all to see, he is a plague on the North."

"The Red Kings were still King's, Your Grace." Melisandre added. "Give him to me, and I shall assure you of a victory on the morrow."

Stannis mulled it over and after a short period of silence, he nodded. "Take him, make it public. He is a kinslayer and a murderer, treat him as such." He ordered, not enjoying the glint in the man's eyes as he was dragged out too.

As dusk fell on the camp, the majority of the army had made their way to a clearing on the bank of the river as a pyre had been set up, with Ramsay Snow attached to the wood. Stannis was stood at the front of the crowd, but he was barely listening to the words that the Red Woman had started preaching, instead he just waited for the first torch to be put to the kindling. As the flames began to catch and rise up the pyre, even the screams of the Bolton Bastard failed to register within Stannis' mind, as all he saw was an image in the flames of himself standing atop the Dreadfort, Bolton banners at his feet. His lips curled into a rare smile as he stared into the fire, sure of his coming victory.

I'm not going to dissect the chapter this time, just put out there as usual that I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and to please let me know your thoughts.

Next Time: A Funeral, a reunion, and more wine than should arguably be legal…

Next Time:

Reviews:

DarylDixon'sLover: Jon's ending is bittersweet.

Tony McNucklz: Margaery will definitely understand that if she wants a relationship with Luke then she can't afford to alienate a toddler, nobody wants another Dance of Dragons… We won't actually see the scenes of Oberyn's interrogation. I also don't think I'm going to go down the bastard route for Robin, but I could change my mind. Robb has all sorts of other things going on, which may mean that the two factions converging on Moat Cailin do so at similar times… Theon here has still supposedly burned Winterfell and killed Bran and Rickon, so he will be very valuable to the Starks left alive.

Guest (Winds): No date has been actually announced.

RHatch89: Hoster Tully unfortunately, we're at that point of the show!

Gtopia: You might have done… spoilers! Dorne would freak because she's promised to Trystane. They may be tolerant, but not at the expense of their pride.