It's been far too long… I know. There are many reasons for that, but the main 2 being that my day job is a lot busier recently than it is normally so my time available for writing has been lessened, and since January that time has been taken up with an increase in productivity into my unreleased Harry Potter OC fic because of the new game set in that world being released and that world being a lot less difficult to integrate myself into, and the story being a lot less complex than this one so I was able to do more whilst being more tired than I normally am while writing.

Don't worry though, this story will never truly be abandoned. The plan has been completed since my 2-year long hiatus after Chapter 14 so it's literally just a case of turning my few bullet points per chapter into scenes of a quality I'm happy with. I'll get there eventually I promise.

Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this return! I own nothing but the OC's, the actual characters and locations from George's world belong to him and/or HBO.

Robb was focused as he faced Jon in the courtyard sword in hand. A crowd had gathered once again as the two sparred together with more speed and ferocity than was usually seen in the middle of the training yard, but the snows were deepening and the words of House Stark often fluttered through the minds of everybody inside the castle. They had been at it for a couple of hours and both men were tiring, but their practice with the blade was more important than anything else right now.

Once again Robb spotted an opening and pushed through Jon's defence to knock the dark-haired man to his knees. Jon didn't yield however, using the momentum of his fall to fall over, swinging at Robb from down low as he regained his balance, one knee planted in the snow. Robb parried it with ease and pushed forwards, battering Jon's own sword with blow after blow until one was too powerful and sent the weapon out of Jon's hand and into the snow away from him. In one quick movement Robb moved his weapon to Jon's neck, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Fuck sake." Jon whispered. "I yield… again."

Applause rang around the gathered crowd as Robb lowered his sword, using his free hand to help Jon back onto both feet. They hugged quickly before handing their weapons over to Ser Kyle and taking a drink of cold water as the pair caught their breath.

They weren't afforded much of a rest though, as from the gatehouse nearby shouts were starting to be heard, and the main one that caught Robb's ears was. "OPEN THE GATE!"

Curious, the Lord of Winterfell walked over towards the opening gate where he saw two people, a dark-haired woman atop a horse and an overly large man stood beside a cart. He was about to walk away, leaving what he presumed was a trader to Sansa and his Mother, when a relieved voice from his childhood stopped him in his tracks.

"Hodor."

Peering at the large man closer, Robb gasped. He had grown a thick beard and his hair was certainly greyer, but the voice was the same, and the simple eyes of the stableboy looked exactly the same as Robb had known from his youth. He looked at the woman then, expecting to see the Wildling he had spared before quickly remembering her fate at the hands of the Wildling hating Umbers. He didn't recognise her, but still he took a deep breath and went to greet them.

"Hodor!" He called out, catching the attention of the larger man. "Welcome home!"

Hodor grinned. "Hodor." He bowed, before looking slightly saddened. "Hodor."

Robb knew the man well enough to realise it was a display of sympathy, but whether it was for Roslin and Edwyn, or whether it was for his Father, Robb knew not. "My thanks." He nodded back, before his attention moved to the girl. "Forgive me, but I don't think we have met…"

The woman dismounted her horse and quickly fell to one knee. "Meera, of House Reed, My Lord Stark."

Robb felt a chill wash over his body at what that name meant. "Bran…" He whispered inaudibly before remembering himself. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Reed." Meera rose back to her feet and bowed her head, before moving to the cart. Robb had noticed the gathered crowd were staring behind the horses carrying the wagon now, and tentatively he made his way around, hoping he was about to witness a miracle, and not another dead Stark.

Thankfully, as Robb turned the corner of the cart he saw that it was filled with chests and supplies, and propped up against them was the moving and most definitely alive Bran Stark, and stood up beside the cart was the alert and cautious Summer. Robb was struggling to hold back his emotions at seeing the brother he had thought dead for the longest time, and all sense of togetherness went away completely when he heard the words. "Hello Robb."

Ignoring all sense of decorum, Robb rushed to his brother and engulfed him in a tight hug. "Bran." He whispered. "We thought you were dead…"

"I survived." Bran said, and for the first time Robb noticed that his voice hadn't changed tone.

Releasing his brother, Robb took a step back, ignoring the tears in his eyes as he allowed Jon to hug Bran instead. Giving them their moment, Robb turned to Malck nearby. "Fetch Lady Catelyn and Lady Sansa." He explained. "Tell them to meet us in the Godswood."

"Aye, My Lord." Malck bowed, rushing away.

Robb then moved to Meera. "Thank you, My Lady, for keeping him safe. We shall send word to your Father immediately, I am sure he will be gladdened to know you are well."

Meera nodded, tears in her own eyes. "May I write the letter, My Lord? I… have some news he would rather hear from me."

Robb agreed, pointing out the Maester's Tower. "Maester Corwin will show you the right raven."

"We need to talk." Bran's voice sounded, and so as Meera grabbed a sword from the cart and walked away to the tower, Robb turned back to his brother. "Hodor, carry me to the Godswood."

"Hodor." Hodor agreed, moving around to pick up the crippled Stark. Robb simply followed along with Jon, watching as they reached the Weirwood tree as Hodor gently placed Bran so he was propped up against the low branches.

Cat and Sansa joined them quickly, with their Mother the first to rush into Bran's arms, gushing with tears as she failed to stumble out words of both apology and joy at him being back safe. It took a little while for her to calm down, but Bran eventually got around to explaining all that had happened to him.

Robb was disbelieving at first, as were all of the Starks gathered. But Bran simply went around and made a mention of private moments that nobody would have known about had they not been there. He mentioned to Sansa a private conversation with Jeyne Poole after the girl had been found in a King's Landing brothel. He shared with Jon something about a cave in the North. With Cat it was a conversation with their Father from before any but Robb had been born, and with Robb, the memory was that of Roslin choosing to attempt to save their son, something that he had only told Jon about.

"So… you have visions." Sansa was the one to say once the information had sunk in.

"I do." Bran agreed.

"What does that mean?" Robb asked.

Bran took a moment. "It means that I am the Three Eyed Raven. And that the Night King will stop at nothing to see me dead."

That caused different reactions. The two women were horrified, but to the battle-hardened Robb, it simply created the beginnings of a plan that he knew he would hate. Looking at Jon, he knew his brother had thought the same.

"No. We will protect you." Cat said firmly, stopping any voicing of Robb's plan. "We'll take you South, to Riverrun…"

Bran shook his head slowly. "I must go South, it is true. But only for a time." He stated. "As we left the cave, I was given something that must be given to the Prince."

That was another thing that Robb's eyes widened in surprise at, and once again he looked at Jon who again had sensed the same thing. "You are to go nowhere any time soon." He said sternly. "We've only just got you back, and Rickon will want to see you too."

Bran simply nodded the once. "Very well."

"Call Hodor back, we'll get you bathed and fed and into your own bed for the night." Robb insisted. "Then we will discuss the future in the morning."

Bran's eyes flashed white for a second, and before Robb knew it the gentle giant was back, picking Bran up and leading him out of the Godswood. Cat and Sansa quickly followed, leaving just Robb and Jon to digest all that they had heard.

"I knew he was there at Craster's." Jon stated through gritted teeth as he kicked some snow away childishly. "I should have followed the trail… joined him."

"If you had, who knows what else would have happened…" Robb said, making sure the girls were gone before he continued. "You heard him, Jon. The Night King will want him dead. If he managed to find their cave before… he may be able to track Bran."

"And we can use that to lure him, I know I thought the same." Jon said quietly. "I hate it."

Robb nodded in agreement. "As do I, but it's something. It's that little bit of predictability that we did not have before." He looked back over at the exit to the Godswood. "And that bit… about the gift for the Prince."

"It's the sword." Jon noted. "Did you see the hilt?" Robb shook his head. "The one Lady Reed took. I've seen that pommel drawn many a time in books on the Targaryen reign. The egg pommel, the winged cross guard, and a single silver crown in the middle of the handle."

"Dark Sister…" Robb's mind was racing as it all started to make sense. "He found Bloodraven's sword North of the Wall."

"And the Three-Eyed-Raven… an old man, older than even Aemon was." Jon continued. "Lord Commander Rivers went missing North of the Wall 50 years ago. What if he never died."

"So Bloodraven was this Raven, and he wants his sword bringing back to his kin." Robb surmised. "But the only kin anybody knows about is in King's Landing."

Jon sighed. "The King has Blackfyre, he doesn't need Dark Sister. And so unless he's giving a sword to Princess Daenerys the next oldest Targaryen is a mere child."

"Prince." Robb corrected. "It was said in the common tongue, not Valyrian where it could mean either Prince or Princess. So it's either meant for Aegon who will not be able to even hold a sword for years…"

"Or me." Jon scowled, turning to face the Weirwood. "But I'm not a Prince, Robb. No matter who my parents are, I'm a bastard."

"So was Bloodraven, perhaps he cares not for if your parents were wed or not." Robb shrugged. "Whatever the case, we can't let Bran go South just yet."

Jon agreed. "No, we've finally got everyone back in the North. It may be selfish, but I want to keep it that way a little while longer."

Nineteen hours had passed between Daenerys Targaryen's waters breaking and the screaming wails that indicated the arrival of the new baby, and very quickly as the new arrival began to cry the congratulations and smiles died, leaving Dany lying in her bed agitated on top of in pain.

"What is it Pylos?" She asked breathlessly.

The Maester appeared from between her legs, a wrapped bundle in his arms. "Princess… you have a son. A bright, healthy, silver haired son."

It was those words that made sense of it all. The smiles died because of distant memories of another Targaryen Princess birthing a Valyrian looking baby boy with a man she was not wed to. She had not voiced it ever before, but Dany had been praying for a girl to spring from her belly to save the whispers that would inevitably follow. "May I hold him?"

Pylos quickly obliged, making his way around the bed and gently handing the small baby to her. "Remember to support his…"

"Support his head, I know." Dany said, more aggressively than she intended. "I raised my niece mostly alone, remember."

"Of course, Princess. My apologies." Pylos bowed his head before stepping away, and for the first time Dany got to see her own child.

He had grown silent, and Dany noticed that her baby's eyes were open as he was staring up at her. "Hello." She whispered, moving a finger to stroke his cheek. She made sure to capture the moment in it's entirety, from his slightly blood-stained silver hair to his eyes, almost a perfect match for her own violet shade.

Minutes flew by as she checked the babe over, indulging her curiosity at the end to confirm that she had indeed given birth to a boy, and as she lay there allowing the midwives and the Maester to run around cleaning up after themselves, her thoughts turned to names.

It proved to be tougher than she thought it would be. Luke had once in his cups told her the names he would like his children to have, but the prospect of Margaery soon having another child made Daenerys think before immediately naming the boy Jaehaerys. Racking her brains, Daenerys tried to think back through history at the names she could pick from, and the names she couldn't. Any Blackfyre name was immediately ruled out, though she could see her alert child as an Aemon the thought a bastard boy being compared to the Black Dragon's youngest twin was terrifying. Other names of her ancestors were either too close to dangerous members of her House, or just didn't fit.

Her thought process was interrupted by voices being raised outside of her door, and Dany was thankful for her Northern knight stopping any visitors. Tiredness soon overcame her though, and after handing the baby back to the midwife, Dany fell to sleep.

It was dusk before she awoke again, and her first instinct was to check on the baby. He looked cosy however in his rest, and a smiling Dany settled back into her pillows, happy to stay there for the next few days. It was only then that she noticed Ser Jorah in the distance, his sword on his lap as he sat down in an armchair.

"You are too good to me, Ser." She said quietly so as to not wake the baby.

Ser Jorah rose to his feet and sheathed his blade. "I am sworn to your service, Princess. Not the King's, not anybody else but you."

"Who was outside?" Dany asked.

Ser Jorah took a breath. "First it was Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Rolly Duckfield. Ser Rolly has been assigned to your guard by the King, while Ser Barristan is to look over the mining efforts for a while before reporting back."

Dany sighed audibly. "He shouldn't have sent them away…" She whispered.

"And next it was Princess Visenya." Jorah explained. "She is rather put out that you did not attend supper to see her drawing."

That brought a smile back to Dany's face as she knew all too well how the temper tantrum of the 5-year-old could be like. "I think she should visit me first, Jorah. She should meet her brother."

Jorah bowed. "I will fetch her at once if you are able."

"I am." Dany replied as she shifted herself to sit upright properly.

It took ten more minutes for the doors to reopen, and Ser Jorah re-entered the room with Dany's young niece already dressed in her night clothes, with Dany having had time to have the maids change her own clothes and be settled down with the baby in her arms. "Aunt Dany!" She cried out, though it was a hushed cry, and Dany smiled to herself as she imagined the warnings that Ser Jorah had already given Luke's firstborn.

"My sweet." Dany whispered back, patting the bed for Visenya to come and sit on. "Careful now, I am still a little sore."

Visenya, thankfully, took that to heart as she climbed up and gave Dany the most delicate hug. "Jorah said you have a baby?" She asked.

Nodding, Dany shifted herself so that the baby's head was in the girl's view. "This is your brother, Visenya." She introduced.

Visenya, humorously, scrunched up her nose. "Like Egg?"

Grinning, Dany nodded. "Somewhat, but Egg calls Margaery Mother, while this baby will call me Mother."

Visenya didn't really understand, but she nodded anyway. "Does he have a name?"

"Not yet." Dany sighed, still stuck on that part.

Visenya however, cocked her head to the side and stared intently at the baby, who had reopened his eyes and was staring back up at his sister. It took a few seconds, but Visenya grinned. "Hello Daeron."

Dany was taken aback. "Daeron?"

"Yes." Visenya grinned widely, before explaining her reasoning in a way that made Dany remember truly how smart she was turning out to be. "He's the youngest, and Daeron was the Young Dragon!"

Looking down at the baby, Dany tried to visualise it. "Daeron…" She whispered. "Daeron Waters…" It clicked then, and she knew that the five-year-old had chosen the name perfectly. "Thank you, Visenya. Please meet your brother Daeron."

Gently, and after instructions from the nearby midwife, Visenya was the one holding the newborn boy. It was a sight that made a solitary tear drop from Daenerys' eye, as she knew that despite the obvious hardship her son would face in his life, Visenya would always be there to look after him.

After allowing his Mother to fuss over him after his arrival at Winterfell, Bran took the next day to return to the Godswood. Something had been itching away at him ever since his talk with the Starks, the odd looks between Jon and Robb after his statements had led him to believe that something was going on that he didn't know about. Pressing his hand out to touch the white bark of the Weirwood Bran let his mind filter into the sacred tree, and his eyes flashed white.

Robb and Jon were close together speaking in hushed tones, both sounding out their theories as they discussed Bran, and the correct conclusion of the gift Bran had mentioned being Dark Sister. "Prince." Robb corrected Jon. "It was said in the common tongue, not Valyrian where it could mean either Prince or Princess. So it's either meant for Aegon who will not be able to even hold a sword for years…"

"Or me." Jon scowled, turning to face the Weirwood. "But I'm not a Prince, Robb. No matter who my parents are, I'm a bastard."

Bran frowned as he watched the pair finish up their conversation and depart. He had intended to hand the Targaryen King the sword, explain the message and then depart back to Winterfell, but the urgency and uncertainty in his brother's tones had him questioning his plan. Pushing himself deeper into the Weirwood, Bran's vision changed. This time he was stood on the ramparts of Winterfell as Jon and Robb were once again in deep conversation.

"Why if you were King…" Robb was whispering.

But Jon countered that quickly. "No." He snapped.

"Think about it." Robb added, a grin appearing on his face. "You perhaps should be. The law of succession…"

"Doesn't include bastards." Jon interrupted, and Bran realised that there was definitely something he was missing. He thought on it as Jon continued speaking, wondering what the pair knew when the conversation filled in the missing gap. "A Prince that caused a war because he wasn't satisfied with his own wife and decided to abduct a Stark." Jon retorted back at Robb coldly.

That was enough for Bran. He pulled himself out of this memory and travelled further back. To Harrenhal and the beginning of everything. Living out days' worth of memories in a short space of time he saw the incident between Meera's Father and the squires, watching on as Lyanna Stark comforted the Crannogman before donning armour and teaching all three a lesson in the lists. He saw the moment she was cornered by Rhaegar Targaryen and Arthur Dayne, saw the rest of their conversations that day…

He moved along the timeline then, watching a long-distance love affair begin with secret letters and promises, before the Stark party left Winterfell for a wedding that would never take place and Lyanna absconded. He watched their wedding by the banks of the Trident, the couple looking happier than Bran could ever think possible.

Bran saw their wedding night, and numerous nights afterwards, blissfully unaware that in their absence the continent had turned on one another and blood was being spilled in the Vale and Stormlands. He watched as the news filtered through to their tower in Dorne via Ser Gerold Hightower, and Bran watched the fierce argument that followed before Rhaegar departed, leaving Lyanna alone under armed guard, barely a couple of months pregnant.

Then he saw the same scene that he had seen with the Three Eyed Raven, as his Father and companions defeated the Kingsguard outside the tower with devastating losses, only this time Bran could follow Ned Stark inside, learning the terrible truth with the dying whispers of his aunt.

"His name, is Aegon Targaryen."

"Bran, come back." Was another voice he heard. Meera's. Reluctantly leaving the past behind, he returned to his body, blinking slightly to see the face of his companion looking up at him. "Your Mother wishes you to join her for supper."

Bran looked around and realised he had been there for a long time as dusk was beginning to fall, and the rumble of his stomach was noticeable. "I shall." He said.

"And your brother wants to know your plans for travelling South." Meera added. "I'll follow you as far as the Neck, but…"

"That won't be necessary any longer, Meera." Bran noted. "Today has been eye opening. I no longer must speak with the King."

Meera looked confused. "But… the Prince?"

"Is here, in this castle." He said softly. "No, meeting Lucerys can wait. I must speak with the true heir to the Iron Throne. I must speak with Aegon Targaryen…"

The Small Council Meetings these days were more about the current placement of soldiers and the number of weapons and supplies each had than about actual ruling, and Luke was growing more and more bored of the talking.

"Lord Tyrion has sent word that 3,000 more men have arrived at Lannisport to add to the Western numbers, but that they need more ships if we want to ferry them all to Seagard in one movement." Grand Maester Gorman was explaining. "Perhaps more, depending on the Ironborn."

The Iron Islands were quiet and had been since Balon Greyjoy had lost his head, but Luke felt happy to keep it that way as it meant they were keeping their promise and had stopped their raiding. "The Ironborn will not attack. Lord Tyrell, how many ships can Lord Redwyne spare?"

Mace Tyrell shrugged. "Without asking him? I know not."

"Then ask him, Lord Tyrell." Jon Connington stated bluntly. "This is not a time for delays."

"Lord Manderly has also written to say that the incoming Dragonglass shipments have increased and new ships are appearing in White Harbour every three days." The Grand Maester explained. "We are expecting Tobho Mott to arrive at Winterfell shortly and he has been instructed to send word on their forging efforts."

"Excellent." Oberyn purred. "We shall need plenty of spear tips for the men of Dorne."

"We shall need plenty of everything." Monford Velaryon rolled his eyes.

Oberyn simply grinned. "As you say, but none fight fiercer than us, Lord Velaryon."

"So says every man about whichever region they claim loyalty to, Prince Oberyn." Jon Connington stated. "The last update from Lord Stark confirmed that at the current rate we shall have enough Dragonglass for 100,000 men thrice over by the middle of this year. Production is moving along."

"I did have word from Winterfell myself." Varys spoke up.

Gormon Tyrell looked put out. "I have not received further word from Lord Stark."

"That's because this news hails from a little bird, Grand Maester, not from Lord Stark or his Maester." Varys giggled. "The news is that Lady Roslin has unfortunately passed, along with her newborn child. A son."

Luke's heart ached at the news, as his own thoughts turned to both Daenerys and Margaery. "That truly is terrible to hear." He said solemnly.

"We must send our condolences." Monford Velaryon stated.

"Of course, a raven will be sent urgently." Jon nodded. He looked out of the window and noticed that the sun was beginning to set. "And I believe that is all we have for the day, unless anybody has anything further?"

Mace Tyrell then began speaking about the imminent arrival of additional Tyrell soldiers to the city that had been requested to protect the Queen and the children during the planned excursion to the North, though instead of paying attention the King instead had his mind focused on the tragedy in Winterfell. Once the Lord of Highgarden had finished however and no further business was raised Luke rose to his feet, waiting for everybody else to join him. "Then we are adjourned. Until next time, My Lords."

He quickly escaped the Council Room, and as his pair of guards joined him in swiftly walking through the Throne Room, Luke decided he needed to clear his mind. "I will be going to the Dragonpit, Sers." He told the pair, knowing that a fly would help him get his mind straight and stop worrying about anything bad happening to both mothers of his unborn children.

Dinners at Winterfell had been strained since Jon's outburst at Lady Catelyn, and so he and Ygritte had taken to eating in their own chambers until things had calmed down ever since. It was more relaxed, Jon felt, and he could eat and enjoy conversation without worrying about what came out of his mouth too much.

His brother's return to only sit in the Godswood white eyed and unmoving had left Jon unable to sleep however. Apparently Bran was fine, and Meera Reed had explained the process of visions as best she could, yet it was unnerving all the same, mainly because of the experience Jon himself had been through.

The vision of the tower was as fresh in his mind as the moment he was pulled back there, and the terrible secret that followed haunted Jon. Despite his adamant protests he couldn't hide from it or pretend it was a lie as events were leading Jon down a path he had no wish to go down.

A knock at the door was a welcome reprieve, though it stirred the sleeping Ygritte beside him. Kissing her gently on what little of her head was exposed from the covers Jon rose out of bed to open the door, only to see Bran in his new wheeled chair, with Meera behind him pushing. "That looks good." He noted.

"It will make life easier." Bran noted. "I must speak with you."

Jon gulped. "Can it not wait until tomorrow?" He asked.

"No." Bran said simply. Sighing, Jon let them in and closed the door. "Quiet, she sleeps heavily but if she wakes she'll attack first." Meera nodded, though her hand darted to a knife on her belt. It was only then that Jon realised that in Bran's lap was the sword he had spotted the day earlier, being picked up from the cart by Meera. "You know what this is." Bran stated, and Jon noticed it wasn't a question.

"I do."

"And you know part of the truth, about yourself." Alarmed, Jon looked up at Meera. "Meera has my full confidence. She knows more than you do right now, Jon."

That didn't make him feel any better. "What do you know?" He asked her.

"That you aren't the son of Ned Stark." Meera explained. "That you are the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, kept hidden from Robert Baratheon by Lord Stark. That…" She trailed off. "This is your news." She angled at Bran.

Jon looked between the pair for a moment, before his frustrations began to rise. "What else is there? I'm not Ned Stark's bastard, I'm Rhaegar Targaryen's bastard instead. Nothing has changed…"

"Everything has changed." Bran stated monotonously. "Because you aren't Rhaegar Targaryen's bastard at all."

"I saw the vision, Bran. I saw Lyanna's… my mother's last words." Jon stated bluntly.

"But you didn't see what came before." Bran added. "You didn't see their wedding, their love for one another."

Jon only focused on one word. "Wedding. You said wedding. He was already wed."

"Targaryen's are different, if they wish to be." Meera stated.

"And Rhaegar wished to be." Bran finished. "All it took was a Septon willing to be bribed to perform the ceremony, and he had a second, lawful wife."

Jon frowned. "The realm would have protested…"

"they would have, had the news spread." Bran agreed. "But it did not, and both died before they could share it with more than one person, Lyanna's brother."

"Father knew…" Jon whispered. "He knew I was… trueborn? That's what you're saying?"

"You're not only the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark." Bran continued. "You're the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne. With the Sack of King's Landing causing your half siblings death, you are his only living child." He picked up the blade carefully, handing it to Jon. "Your name is not Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, Your name is Prince Aegon Targaryen. The true heir to the Iron Throne."

Well it's good to be back! A Winterfell heavy chapter was the perfect one to get me going again after I've returned mentally to the world of Game of Thrones, and it was certainly a big one for Bran and Jon! I really wanted to do the deep dive into Jon's life through Bran's eyes as a way to get Bran to understand the truth, and using certain lines from previous chapters as well as from the show was a good way to do so I feel.

I actually really struggled with the name of Daenerys' baby. Initially I wanted Aemon as a call back to the Dragonknight, but the difference here is this baby is a bastard that is always going to bring around Blackfyre comparisons, so as stated in the chapter naming him Aemon could have been bad. Daeron is close enough to Daemon to be spoken about, but it's also a name that has led to 5/6 'good' Targaryen's in my opinion, and even that one was simply a dreamer that couldn't handle it so turned to drink.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it certainly was nice to get it finished after so long.

Next Time: News of Daeron's birth reaches certain ears in King's Landing while Jon Snow has a decision to make…

Reviews:

RHatch89: I'm sorry for keeping you waiting!

Romulo Targaryen: Thank you! Luke wouldn't pass up the Crown like Robert wanted to, it's not really his nature to abandon his duties after so long of being brought up in the Golden Company. He'll struggle through whatever life throws at him now that he's back in King's Landing and had his moment of weakness.

Lady AstoriaH: I'm not spoiling anything to do with the fates of the characters, but Ygritte certainly isn't useless. She's an important factor in Jon's part of the story and even in canon, had she not died their relationship would have continued on. Luke loves both of them in different ways, and that's the main crux of his internal struggles.

Meraxes56: The long night will be multiple chapters, and in terms of brutality I'd argue that out of all of the versions I've written (semi canon compliant in Black Wolf Rises, 12,000 words in United in Fury, 3 chapters in Black Wolf Reborn and the massive losses the living sustained in No Mercy) this one is the most emotionally hard hitting with multiple named character deaths.

RedSovereign88: I hope it was worth the wait!

zRhN nKlrX: Thank you!

SpartanWolfj6: I absolutely love all the predictions, and you were definitely on the same wavelength with that one! It's very rare that incorrect ones have impacted the story that I've already fully planned out but sometimes an idea is just too good and I have to include it (Loren's mother having a lesbian fling with a commoner in No Mercy a prime example).

Guest (Lemon scenes): I never write explicit sexual scenes, I'll only ever hint at them or end a scene leading into it.

SmokeRhelZP: The point of Valarra was to show early on the type of person Luke was. He was a sellsword, a man that took what he wanted without a care in the world, but he was also somebody that cared a great deal about his Valyrian heritage. Valarra's looks were the main thing that drew him to her but he eventually grew to care for her, while she developed a type of Stockholm Syndrome. She was always a tiny part of the early story, a way to see the Viserys section to its end and give Luke a reason to hesitate before jumping straight into a betrothal with Margaery. If she lived, Luke likely wouldn't have won that first war of Conquest.