With work, the Witcher 3 next-gen update and me spending a little more time writing my upcoming Harry Potter OC story, things have really been busy over the last couple of months so I'm really glad I managed to upload on time again. I've got to the point where I really want to get to the end of this story but I also want to do it justice. We've got less than 20 chapters to go, with a couple more really fun arcs!

I don't normally do these as people should know what they are getting in Game of Thrones stories, but if you are at all sensitive to deaths in childbirth be that the mother or the baby, then I would be cautious with the first scene.

Despite this episode falling as my finale to Season 6, some dialogue is borrowed from Season 8 Episode 2. I own nothing, all rights belong to George R R Martin and/or HBO.

The burning of Roslin Stark's body had left a bitter taste for a lot of those residing in Winterfell, but both Jon and Robb had been adamant on the manner of the funeral. The burning of the young and short-lived heir of Winterfell however was a much tougher prospect. Edwyn Stark had been born in terrible circumstances, with Maester Corwin needing to cut the babe out of his struggling mother in order to have a chance of survival. Jon didn't envy his cousin one bit, with Robb having the final say in what the Lord of Winterfell saw as the murder of his own wife. When the pair had been in their cups after the babies eventual sickly death, Robb had admitted that Roslin had been the one to give the command because he couldn't bring himself to do so.

Robb had shut himself away after the funeral, and Winterfell had returned to being a place that Jon wanted to escape from. In her grief the frostiness between the bastard and Lady Catelyn had returned with fervour, and so Jon had taken to staying in the Godswood or training yard with Ygritte, taking his mind off of the loss and his parentage by introducing the red-head to life at Winterfell.

Things came to a head three weeks after the double funeral as the pair sat down in the Great Hall for their breakfast, quietly keeping to themselves in a corner of the room. Jon kept his head down as Lady Catelyn, Rickon and Sansa were sat at the head table.

"This is stupid." Ygritte commented, looking behind Jon at the noble born women. "The gods are cruel we all know this, she can't blame you for this tragedy."

Jon sighed. "She can find a way to blame me for everything when she's grieving, Ygritte. It's fine, I'm used to it. I just need to keep my head down for a time and stay out of her way."

"This is your home." Ygritte whispered harshly. "You went on and on about it when we were in the North, now it seems like you're a scared little mouse in the shadow of a witch."

"Shh." Jon whispered back. "You can't go around saying things like that."

Scoffing, Ygritte leant back on the bench, placing her hands either side for support. "So many rules." She smirked amusedly. "And you truly prefer this to being free with us?"

"I prefer survival, aye." Jon sighed. "And as much as I loved my time there with you, we have more chance of surviving what's coming with Winterfell on our side."

"It's a fine castle, it's true." Ygritte nodded. "Though, if it can fall to a small group of the living then perhaps even thousands of the dead will break through." It was a fear Jon had as well. The time training had also come hand in hand with making plans for Winterfell, and all lines of thought kept ending with a one-on-one fight with the Night King in the hope that Dragonglass also killed it in the way that it did the other Walkers. Standard battles where men thought like men were easy by comparison, but the Night King was relentless and his army unfaltering, a prospect that was giving Jon sleepless nights. His attention was brought back into the room by Ygritte's hand resting on his own. "I have faith in you, Jon Snow."

Jon smiled. "It's like you can read my mind." He told her, placing his other hand on top.

"Mother no!" He heard Sansa say loudly from behind him, but before he could turn around and see what was going on, the doors opened widely and in the doorway stood Robb Stark.

The Lord of Winterfell looked unkempt, his curly hair was wilder than normal and his beard untrimmed and unruly. He was dressed in decent clothes Jon could see, but a keen eye could see that tying his shirt had been rushed and he had mismatching boots on. Nonetheless, it was the first public appearance from the Stark since the funeral, and Jon joined the dozen others in standing up and bowing to his Lord.

Robb took a deep breath and walked over towards the head table, pausing only for a split second to squeeze Jon comfortingly on the shoulder before he took his seat and a pair of serving girls rushed to fill the Lord's goblet and plate up with the days offerings.

"This will get tongues wagging." Ygritte noted.

Jon agreed, but he looked at her sternly. "He's just had his entire world fall around him and he blames himself." He countered quietly. "Just appearing publicly is a credit. It will take time for him to heal."

Ygritte nodded, but she didn't say any more as she tucked into her porridge. The pair ate in silence for a time, until again they heard the scraping of a chair. Jon turned around to see Robb stood up, looking over at him. "Jon, Ygritte. Join us, please."

Silently, Jon screamed that he had no wish to and he was almost finished with his meal, but he would never turn down his brother in such a setting, and so he stood up and grabbed his wooden bowl, moving over to sit in the seat that was the farthest away from Lady Catelyn without being rude to Robb. Ygritte again sat opposite him.

"My Lord." Jon bowed his head.

"Sansa tells me that you have both been with the castle guard, drilling them on how to fight the dead." Robb said. "How is that going?"

Jon took his final mouthful and gulped before answering. "Well enough. There's only so much we can do having only a handful of us that have even seen the dead let alone fought them, but fighting with fire and spears on the castle walls will be important."

"Aye, too true." Robb nodded.

"They've been teaching me too!" Rickon exclaimed.

Robb grinned, ruffling Rickon's hair. "I am grateful that in my absence, everybody has stepped up." The Lord said softly. "Rickon, your swordplay lessons are more important now than ever. Sansa, your help with taking over some of Ros…" He paused for a moment to catch himself. "Lady Stark's duties hasn't gone unnoticed either. And Mother… you are always so valuable to me." He then looked at Jon. "And the pair of you… I can never thank you enough for coming back and seeing to matters that I should have seen to."

"Robb…" Jon started.

"No, I know what you'll say." Robb stopped him. "I shouldn't rush myself back, I deserve time to grieve. Perhaps if I wasn't the Warden of the North that may be true, but as Father always said Winter is coming, and since the birth I've not done my part."

"Grief affects us all differently, Robb." Catelyn stated. "I had the distraction of war when your Father was murdered and even then my grief almost cost us dearly."

Robb nodded. "And yet I have responsibilities as Warden of the North given what we are soon to face. I cannot wallow in my grief." He turned to Ygritte. "So I wish to spend more time with you, learning all I can learn about what is to face us. Out of all of us inside this castle you will have the most knowledge I am sure."

Ygritte looked to Jon first, who simply nodded. "Aye, I have some." She said, before a warning look from Jon made her add. "My… my Lord…" She added slowly.

Jon was proud of her, but the moment was ruined by a slight scoff from the other side of the table. Angrily, Jon looked back down at his bowl so he didn't react, with only a slight glance at his woman to see that Ygritte was doing the same.

"Mother, that's enough." Robb stated sternly. "Ygritte comes from a different set of rules, and I commend her the fact that she is trying to fit in with our own customs."

"Trying?" Catelyn scoffed again. "Robb… your wife has just died and the pair of them are running around the castle as if they own it! Sharing a bed disgracefully! It is an insult to you!"

"No, it isn't." Robb stated firmly. "I am not insulted in the slightest. We should all take what happiness we can while we are still able."

"There is happiness, and there is acting like a pair of…"

"A pair of what, My Lady?" Jon rose to his feet roughly unable to stay silent any longer, not taking his eyes off of his bowl as his chair was launched backwards. "Forgive me, but I will not allow you to speak of Ygritte the way you were about to unchallenged."

"Jon…" Sansa whispered horrified, but Jon saw satisfaction in the face of his brother in the corner of his eyes and felt emboldened by that, so he forced his angry gaze onto the seething Lady Catelyn.

"How dare you, bastard." Catelyn whispered harshly.

"How dare I? How dare you." Jon countered. "You were about to call us whores, were you not? When in Free Folk custom, Ygritte and I are already wed." He looked to Ygritte then, happy to see a beaming smile on her nodding face.

Catelyn took a deep breath. "We are not Beyond the Wall here…"

"You married in a Faith of the Seven ceremony, My Lady. That is just as foreign here as how we did it." Jon stated bluntly. "Yet the North accepted you all the same, and your children are considered trueborn."

"Jon, that's enough." Robb interrupted sternly. "Both of you, sit down."

Jon did just that, but Catelyn refused to without letting out more. "You will let him speak to me like that?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes, just this once because it was something that he has needed to do for years." Robb stated firmly. "I love the pair of you dearly, but this animosity between you has been fucking hard work to manage ever since I was a child. Jon has stood by and taken your ire out of loyalty to me, but I blame him not one bit for defending his wife's honour, Mother."

"Wife." Catelyn scoffed again. "You can't seriously think…"

"ENOUGH!" Robb slammed his fist on the table, his face reddening in anger as he roared out, not caring that the rest of the room had stopped their own conversations to look up at the Starks. "That is the last word against them that you will speak, am I understood?"

Catelyn nodded curtly. "Excuse me." She said bluntly, before turning and walking away.

"Seven hells." Robb sighed as he sunk back into his chair rubbing his temples. "Jon, I appreciate that you had built all that up, but never speak to her like that again."

Jon nodded. "I'm sorry Robb. I just…"

"I get it." Robb interrupted as he placed his hand on Jon's shoulder. "She will be furious for a while, and she won't let you questioning her own wedding ceremony go lightly."

"It's a fair point though." Sansa said quietly. "If the Faith of the Seven was accepted here, why can't a ceremony to the Old Gods."

"Because it's not so much a ceremony as a stealing." Ygritte answered. "I didn't say no words, Jon stole me and proved his strength when it came to it."

Jon could feel his blush rising as he stared into his bowl, not sure where to look that would be less embarrassing. "Then I have an idea." He heard Robb say. "Time for a little bit of positivity in these shit times. We'll have a wedding, in our customs, tonight."

"What?" Jon said before he could stop himself. "I… is that…?" He was so perplexed at what was happening that he couldn't think of the right words.

"Aye, let's do it." Ygritte said confidently. "If that will stop the whispers and let us focus on the Others then aye."

Jon couldn't stop the smile that appeared. "You really want this? We don't have to do this just to keep people from talking…"

"I'm your woman, Jon Snow." Ygritte stated. "If this is what it takes for everyone to accept that, then let's do it."

Sansa squealed in delight. "Can I help with the dress?" She asked quickly, and before Jon knew it Ygritte had been dragged away by his sister, leaving Jon there bemused at what had just happened.

He turned to Robb, who had a melancholic look on his face. "Are you sure you are fine with this?" He asked.

Robb nodded. "I can't pretend like there will never be another wedding again. I will miss Roslin and Edwyn until the day I die and will forever wonder if choosing to try and save Edwyn was the right thing to do, but life cannot stand still and wait for me to catch up. Seeing you happy with Ygritte, well it makes everything else seem a little less dark."

Despite all the problems that faced newly appointed 999th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, nothing scared Ser Jaime Lannister more than the young, crippled boy that sat at his desk. The fact that Brandon Stark had appeared at the Northern gate with a large simpleton and the daughter of a Lord wasn't the most surprising part either, but they had returned with Valyrian Steel, and stories of visions and prophecy too.

Jaime couldn't look Bran in the eye, and so he fiddled around with some papers as he spoke. "I'm sorry for what I did to you."

There was a pause, before a monotone voice responded. "You weren't sorry then." Bran stated. "You were protecting your family."

Jaime sighed as he thought back to that time. Life had been so simple, he and Cersei snuck around behind Robert Baratheon's back, making each other feel whole again. Now he was alone, his sister condemned to be a villain in the histories while he froze his balls off at the edge of the world. "I'm not that person anymore."

"You still would be, if you hadn't pushed me out of that window." Bran countered, a statement which Jaime's eyes widened as he morbidly agreed. "And I would still be Brandon Stark."

"You're not?" Jaime asked.

Bran… or not Bran apparently, shook his head slowly. "I'm something else now."

They fell into a lull of silence for a moment. "What happened up there?" Jaime asked. "Your brother… Jon… he wanted to look for you."

"He was needed here." Bran stated. "As he is now needed at Winterfell, and you are needed here."

"And what about you?" Jaime asked. "Where are you needed?"

Bran looked at the wrapped-up sword on the desk in front of him. "Winterfell, for a time. I must go and show how I am alive. But then I am needed in King's Landing. The sword of House Targaryen must return to Targaryen hands if we are to survive."

Jaime nodded, still struggling to believe that the blade of legend was on his desk. "You may rest here for as long as you need, and a fresh garron shall be given to you for your journey. The snows are growing deeper, Clydas believes Winter will soon be announced." Bran didn't react at all, something which unnerved Jaime even more. "You really aren't angry?"

"I'm not angry at anybody anymore." Bran explained. He cocked his head towards the Lord Commander. "You're worried that I'll tell people. I won't."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did." Jaime said quietly.

"If I tell Robb, he will conveniently forget that all crimes are wiped clean when you take the Black. He will kill you, and then we are one less capable man down for the fight on our hands." Bran explained. "No, I will not tell people, Jaime Lannister. You will live, and you will fight alongside those you once called enemy. You were a hero to thousands before the Rebellion, perhaps that could be the case again."

"I don't care about that." Jaime said quickly. "The lion cares not for the opinion of the sheep."

"That is Tywin Lannister speaking. Jaime Lannister does care, though he pretends not to." Bran continued. "We shall depart in the morning, there is little time."

And with that the boy's eyes flashed white, and a stunned Jaime was left speechless as the simpleton Hodor walked into the room and picked up the crippled Stark, taking him away.

Other than his time in the North, Lucerys Targaryen had spent almost his entire life in the sun. Even during the couple of Winters of his childhood the Golden Company had always located themselves in good weather along the southern Essosi coast. He did not have the luxury of moving now though, and as he stared out at the drab grey skies over King's Landing listening to Grand Maester Gormon drone on about the recently arrived White Raven, the sense of dread that the thought of Winter brought filled the Targaryen.

"Thank you, Grand Maester." Luke interrupted. "But if Winter is truly here, then we cannot waste a single moment." He turned around and faced the Small Council. "We must instruct the Pyromancers that time is short, whatever stock they have must start to be moved Northwards with as much caution as is necessary. We must also write to Winterfell, Moat Cailin will be used to house it all and I need Lord Stark's agreement."

"At once, Your Grace."

"Then send a reminder to all of the Lords Paramount that we need as many fighting bodies as they can muster. The only notice we shall get is when the Night's Watch comes under attack, and I want as little delay as we can get in travelling North."

"The obsidian project is steady, Your Grace." Varys explained. "Lord Karstark himself has written at how pleased he is with the mining efforts."

That was something to make Luke breathe a little easier. "And what of the forging? It's all well and good if we have Dragonglass, but can we fashion it into weapons?"

"My birds take longer to return from the North." Varys stated. "But they have smiths working constantly on it."

Jon Connington leant on his elbows, his brow furrowed in thought. "Send Mikken to Winterfell. He is the best we have in the city and will be more use there than here."

Mace Tyrell shook his head. "And what of our repairs?"

"The Street of Steel is vast, Lord Tyrell." Monford Velaryon rolled his eyes. "There are plenty of smiths capable of stamping a rose into steel. I'm with Lord Connington, send Mikken North and see if his expertise can be of help to Winterfell."

Luke thought it was a wise idea too, and gave his agreement to fund the travel. That was also the last issue of the day, and so soon afterwards the meeting had wrapped up, and Luke made his way back to his chambers.

In the 14 weeks since Aegon's nameday the King and Queen hadn't fought once, and the thought of seeing his wife no longer frustrated or worried Luke, and as such he immediately made his way over to her chambers where he knew she was at that moment, a thought confirmed by the presence of the Red Cloaked Targaryen guards outside of her door. As Luke entered, he was surprised to see Maester Myle there too, fondling Margaery's stomach as she was dressed in nought but her under gown.

"Is everything alright?" The King asked the pair suspiciously, noticing immediately that they had stopped talking between themselves at the arrival.

Myle looked over to Margaery as he got back to his feet and stepped away from the Queen, the look seemingly for permission which started to grow Luke's anger, but Margaery quickly nodded. The Maester cleared his throat and turned to the King. "Congratulations are in order, Your Grace. The Queen is with child."

Expecting to go into a tirade about unfaithfulness, Luke's anger immediately vanished as his jaw dropped in shock. "You're pregnant?" He asked his wife, moving to kneel before her and place his hands on her stomach in a similar way the Maester had just done.

"It seems so, but it's still early." Margaery insisted. "I have not bled for two moons, so I thought I should check…"

"I shall leave you in peace, Your Grace, Your Grace." The Maester bowed to the pair.

Margaery nodded. "Thank you, Maester."

"I shall return tomorrow with a plan on how we shall proceed, My Queen." Myle explained. "I know you have been through this before, but it can never hurt to be prepared."

"Of course." Margaery smiled, and with that the Maester bowed once more and departed, leaving only the married couple left in the room.

Luke rose back to his feet and moved again to the window. "A baby… I never expected so soon."

"This is what we wanted though Luke." Margaery said, also now back on her feet as she joined him, snaking her arms around his torso to hug him from behind and rest her forehead on his back. "To grow our family, to grow House Targaryen."

"It is." Luke nodded. "But Winter is here, Margaery. We got the white raven today. I cannot promise that I'll be here for the child's early days, I may be away in the North like I was for Aegon."

He felt his wife pause behind him. "What's coming is more important than anything, husband. If that is the will of the Seven then so be it, but we do not know when this threat will appear."

"And that's what worries me most." Luke sighed. "It could be this week, it could be two years from now. This will be a long Winter after all, and in all likelihood it could be my last…"

"Don't say that." Margaery said firmly, pulling on Luke's left side to turn him around so that they were facing one another. "You will return, and you will be here to raise our children."

"I can't promise that." Luke told her, placing his hands on her cheeks gently.

Margaery shook her head, reaching up to grab one of his hands as she moved it to her belly. "You have something to return to, Luke. Remember that."

Jon hadn't seen Ygritte since the declaration of a wedding earlier that morning, although he too had been busy. Robb had dragged him to get his hair cut and his beard trimmed before a trip to the seamstresses to get some fancier clothes fitted into his size and to arrange the marriage cloak. By the time that dusk had settled on them all he felt different, like one of the dolls that Sansa had played with as a child.

The Godswood was picturesque, as the lanterns had been staked into the snowy ground illuminated the red leaves of the Weirwood Tree as well as the gathered household of Winterfell. With such short notice the only noble attendees were those already in the castle minus Lady Catelyn, but Jon preferred that. He had very rarely interacted with the noble guests as a child, preferring to mingle with those that wouldn't judge him for his birth.

Eventually the voices in the Godswood quietened down, and soon the only thing to hear was a pair of footsteps crunching in the snow. As Jon saw Ygritte for the first time since breakfast his jaw involuntarily dropped. She looked exquisite. Sansa had lent her a dress that was far fancier than anything the archer had ever worn before, a striking blue gown with a white wolfskin cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair had been pulled into an actual style too, and Jon wondered if he could see the faintest of powder on her face.

As she arrived in position, Jon immediately took her hand. He could see she looked uncomfortable, but his gaze put a smile on her face before they turned to face Robb, who was officiating.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" The Lord of Winterfell asked.

Ser Kyle Condon had been chosen to give Ygritte away, being of noble blood and having spent the most time with the Free Folk woman in his role as Master-at-Arms. "Ygritte of the Free Folk comes here to be wed, a woman grown and flowered. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Jon took a breath before speaking. "I, Jon Snow. Who gives her?"

"Ser Kyle of the House Condon. Master-at-Arms of Winterfell and heir to Kilworth Castle." The knight stated.

"Ygritte." Robb then turned to the red-head. "Do you take this man?"

Ygritte nodded, looking at Jon. "Aye, I take him."

A few muffled laughs were heard at the bluntness, but Jon didn't care. Robb then cleared his throat to regain the silence before continuing. "Jon, Ygritte. Kneel before the Old Gods and pray to them, and allow them to bless your union."

Keeping Ygritte's hand in his own, Jon did as he was told, kneeling before the heart tree and closing his eyes, thinking a prayer to himself. 'You have already blessed me with a return to life and a reunion with Ygritte. I would like to think that you will bless our union also. Thank you for allowing us a moment of happiness in such dark times.'

He squeezed Ygritte's hand to let him know she was finished, and just a moment later they both rose to their feet again. No more words were spoken for a while as the ritual ceremony continued. Jon unclasped the bridal cloak off of Ygritte's shoulders and handed it off to Sansa so that he could take the cloak that signified their union. Jon had very quickly stopped Robb from thinking down the dragon route, and had instead opted for a very simple white direwolf with red eyes on a black background. He gently draped it around Ygritte's shoulders before standing to her side once more.

"The bride has been cloaked, and the Old Gods blessed. As Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I, Robb of the House Stark, do proclaim you man and wife." Robb said with a smile. "You may kiss your bride."

And Jon did just that. As their lips pressed together Jon thought back on how adamant he had been that this moment would never happen for him, and he heard his wife's voice in his head as he thought back to before.

'You knew nothing, Jon Snow'.

Another late night in his solar had claimed the King of the Seven Kingdom's. With the news of Margaery's pregnancy spreading through the castle he knew that the next few days would be filled with celebratory feasts, and so the King had let his wife handle the preparations for that while he got in one last night of research in. Nothing was happening however, as Luke was instead stuck in his thoughts. In the four years since he had retaken the Iron Throne he had changed a lot from the sellsword captain he had once been, and as he looked back he wondered if he was now more capable of winning the imminent battles as a King, or if the cold and ruthless nature he had held as the leader of the Golden Company would have been better. He looked back to sacking Lys and Pentos, the numerous horrors he had inflicted there, and knew that he wouldn't have gained the support of all of the Kingdom's of Westeros like that, but perhaps he himself would feel more prepared and less anxious about the future, knowing that the life of a sellsword was always about the present.

Sighing, he closed the book that he had been staring at for the past half an hour and moved over to his side unit to refill his wine goblet with some Arbor Red, not returning to his desk and instead standing by the fireplace. While no snows had arrived since the heralding of Winter, the temperature had definitely started to drop and all of the loose-fitting clothing that he had worn in the past had been replaced by a thicker material, and his cloaks had changed too, now boasting fur edges and being larger in size to wrap up in if needed.

A knock at his solar door interrupted the King from his whirlwind thoughts. "A messenger from Dragonstone, Your Grace." Ser Barristan called.

"Allow him in." A surprised Luke called back. He moved over to his desk and sat back down in his chair, watching as the Dragonstone guard entered the room. "This is a surprise." Luke stated, recognising the man from his own time on the island.

"The Princess Daenerys instructed that this letter be delivered to your hands only, Your Grace." The man stated as he held out the sealed parchment. "She stressed the distrust of sending this by raven."

Even more confused, Luke took the parchment and looked at the red dragon wax seal for a moment. "Thank you, Tym. Ask Ser Taron to escort you to a room for you to rest in before you return to Dragonstone." He instructed. The guard bowed his head and departed the room.

Luke waited until the door had shut and the following footsteps had faded before he broke open the seal and unfurled the letter. He noticed that it was Visenya's own hand, large and untrained scribbles adorned the parchment, but Luke's heart felt full as the words were legible, as well as noticing that she was writing in Valyrian. She was talking about the new dragon eggs ecstatically before his warmth fell victim to dread when Visenya asked if one of the eggs could be given to the baby in Daenerys' belly.

The subterfuge made immediate sense at that moment, and Luke was instantly grateful for Dany's caution. He quickly got back to his feet and returned to the fireplace, dropping the parchment into the flames and watching as it turned to ash, all the while thinking about what a fool he had been. Once there was no further evidence of any letter, Luke then went to fretting about the messenger and the ship that he came in on. Tym was a good lad from what Luke could remember, but the risk was far too great.

The other Kingsguard knight outside, thankfully, was the ever-faithful Lord Commander. "Ser Barristan!" The King called out, and in stepped the white-haired white cloak. "Get a hooded cloak, Ser. We're going out into the city, and I don't want to be followed."

Ser Barristan looked suspicious, but he simply nodded his head. "As you say, Your Grace." The old man said, following his King out of the room as they both readied themselves for a late night.

At this point I would say that Dany is about 3 or 4 months ahead of Margaery in her pregnancy. The timelines are all a bit skewed, as the Northern part is happening far earlier in the timeline than the Crownlands part but for it all to flow together nicely as one story I needed to do it like this.

The choice to kill off Roslin and their baby was a tough one, but as I'll say in a review response it really does work with how this story was planned out, and of course I took inspiration from Episode 1 and Episode 6 of House of the Dragon. This one though was more like Aemma and Baelon's deaths, with Robb having to make the call without giving Roslin the choice.

I want to also stress yet again that I love Catelyn Stark as a character and I'm in the camp that can see that the only times she truly lashes out at Jon are when she's emotionally compromised. This is one of those times, but it's also the first time since Jon has come back after all of his growth at the Night's Watch and so when it turns to slander against Ygritte he won't sit silently anymore. That was really fun to get into, and I also felt like I was in Robb's shoes a bit trying to let them both let off some steam but also not go too far.

This wedding was perhaps the toughest for me to do as well. As much as the Northern ceremony is simpler, Ygritte doesn't have anyone else around her to give her away, nor is she a noble so some of the phrasing I had to adapt. Ser Kyle was my obvious choice as a stand in given how martial she is. Speaking of Ser Kyle, the seat of House Condon isn't named in the books or on the wiki so I googled it and saw that Kilworth Castle is an actual castle that belonged to an actual House Condon in Ireland.

Back in King's Landing though and Winter has arrived, and with it another baby for House Targaryen! This one will be a dramatic pregnancy though, as Luke has heard the news over in Dragonstone… I figure that it's been 6 months or so for Dany so it's officially too late to hide it, and so she decided to let Luke know in the most secretive way possible, although even then Luke thinks that he needs to silence everybody that knows in his city.

If anybody has any guesses on who these two babies will be then please let me hear them and see how close you are!

Thank you everybody for reading.

Next Time: Luke is torn between protecting his child and keeping the secret, while Jon and Robb have a heart to heart.

Reviews:

1shinChan: That's the opinion that the North has of him at this point.

Guest (banished): Jon's ending in this story is probably the most bittersweet of all, but I'm really happy with what I've come up with for him and think it fits him perfectly.

TehStorm: No she wouldn't pass it off as a random guy getting her pregnant as that would also be a massive scandal and one that Luke wouldn't be able to just brush off, she just won't say anything until she has to. You're right about Margaery though, Luke can't marry Dany as well without restarting the conflict with the Faith, and House Tyrell would join the religious faction which Luke can't afford.

Darbiboi: The kid won't be a Blackfyre, but I'd be lying if I didn't use Daena as inspiration for Daenerys at this part.

SpartanWolfj6: And the drama will be delightful haha! Wow thank you, that's really high praise!

C.E.W: The secret will come out eventually, and it won't be pushed under the carpet I assure you… Unfortunately I did give them a tragedy. I've not often shown the bad side of childbirth in this sort of era if I have at all, and as much as I love Robb Stark, this particular birth is the obvious one in this story to go badly when I look at my completed plan.