Myrcella

The inn was much quieter than Myrcella was expecting. Only a few guests were lounging about inside, some with food set out in front of them, and others who were just gossiping and discussing with the others.

"And what are your names?" a girl who seemed to be the waiter asked. She was very plain, with small brown eyes and curly brown hair, twenty if Myrcella had to give her an age.

"I'm Kiera," Myrcella said. "This is my husband, Rolland."

"Well met," the girl said with a smile. "Right this way."

Ser Merlon gave Myrcella a nervous glance that she ignored as she started following after the waitress. They were both wet from walking in the rain outside, and did not have much money on them either, though at least they would have enough for a night's stay here.

The waitress led them to a table that could have easily sat four near the middle of the dining area. "My name is Palla," she told them as they began sitting down. "Will you be staying here for the night?"

"Yes," Myrcella nodded. "We'll take two bowls of beef stew."

Palla smiled and then walked over to the kitchen, while Ser Merlon raised an eyebrow at her. "Beef stew?"

"Would you have liked me to order us lamprey pie?" Beef stew was hardly among what Myrcella would consider to be her favorite foods, nor Ser Merlon's, but they could both tolerate it, and it was cheaper than most things at this inn. She lowered her voice. "We're a pair of common travelers, you my husband and I your wife. I'm sure Lord Wyman remembers well the sorts of foods we like to eat."

"No, it's just…"

"Remember, Rolland. We're here for news about the war." Maester Luwin had told Myrcella at least some of what had happened while they were gone, but even his news was very old. Storm's End was under siege, there was a full invasion by the Ironborn in the North, Robb had taken another castle in the west. Things had most certainly changed during the course of their journey, and Myrcella needed to formulate some sort of plan to get back to Robb.

Her sworn shield gave a nod.

They waited for a little bit to get the stew. While they did, they engaged in small talk to avoid casting any suspicion. Nobody seemed to be listening, but they had both learned in King's Landing that sometimes even the walls can hear.

Eventually, Palla brought out their stew, and both Myrcella and Ser Merlon quickly consumed it. The stew was alright, though not as good as stew that they might have had in a castle. Even so, after traveling for so long and eating so poorly, it certainly seemed like a meal worthy of a queen in comparison.

Myrcella made sure to wipe her face when she was done, and looked up at her white knight who was still eating his. Her hair was dyed brown and straightened to mask her golden locks, but even with that she kept her hood up mostly.

More had entered the inn since they had sat down, including a member of the city watch, who she identified from his armor and sword belt. Already she could sense Ser Merlon's discomfort, but she needed to start somewhere, so she rose to go over to the member of the city watch.

"Over here, wench," a voice called as she walked over to the city watchman. "It's me you'll be wanting to take to your bed, not him. You won't even want no payment from me once we're done."

She turned towards him. "I'm not interested in bedding any man here," she said, her voice as firm and dignified as suited a princess. "My husband is over there."

"Then what're ya doin ov'r here then?" the watchman asked.

"I had matters I wanted to discuss with you. Matters for a man of the city watch." She flashed him a shy smile, but his eyes were on her breasts.

"Oh very well then," he said, inviting her to sit down on the cushioned seat next to him. "Give me yer business."

"Yes, ser, I was-"

"I'm no ser."

"Y-yes… What might I call you then?"

"Arnof," the man replied.

"Yes, Arnof, I wanted to speak to you about…" Myrcella caught herself for a moment, unsure what she wanted to speak about. "The horses are outrageously expensive here. A thousand silver stags, I haven't got that sort of money."

If it were Ser Merlon speaking to him, she sensed Arnof would have rolled his eyes and told him to get lost already, but he seemed interested more in her than anything she was saying. "If it's gold you need, I would be glad to provide it for you."

At a price, she sensed. "It's not gold I need or want… I just want to know when prices will go down again. They're all so high because of the war, aren't they?"

"I suppose," he said, his left hand having drifted behind her and now resting on her waist.

"Do you have any news about the war? When do you think it might end?"

"Lord Stannis was beaten in King's Landing, they say by Lord Lannister and Lord Tyrell, led by Lord Renly's ghost. The Battle of the Blackwater, they call it."

Tyrell and Lannister together? Myrcella was worried. "What about our king, the Young Wolf?"

"Well, he's still at war. I've heard men talking about him winnin' more battles. A dozen I think now. He had his second at the Stoney Sept, taking some Reacher lords from the rear. By now he and his new queen made it to Riverrun, I bet."

"N-new queen?" Myrcella's voice trembled. "What do you mean?"

"The Young Wolf took a new wife after the bastard princess was killed. Some southern girl. Easterling? No… It would be Westerling, wouldn't it…"

Myrcella had gone pale. If Robb has married another…

"You didn' tell me no name, wench."

Myrcella, my name is Myrcella, she thought, but she couldn't tell him that. She felt his right hand moving towards her breast. "Thank you, ser," she said, forcing herself up, and keeping her voice firm and confident.

He was not pleased by that. "Dumb whore," he cursed. "I gave you what you wanted, now I'll have what I want."

Out of the corner of her eye, Myrcella spotted Ser Merlon rising. She was walking back towards her, when she felt Arnof grab her arm.

Myrcella spun around, and slapped him across the face with her other hand.

"You bitch." His face was red with rage, and others were starting to take notice. He was still holding one of her wrists, and he was much stronger than her, as she tried to recoil away, but his grip remained firm.

"Let me go!" she demanded, slapping at his arm. He had mail on though and it clearly hurt her more than it hurt him. "You have no right-"

Before she or Arnof could say anything else, Myrcella fell to the ground, as she saw Ser Merlon spring into action. The Kingsguard knight had shoved the city watchman to the ground. He didn't have a sword, but was much bigger and stronger.

Myrcella managed to get back onto her feet, as she watched the two men brawl. Ser Merlon was keeping Arnof on the floor, pinning his arm down. She watched him reach down to his foe's waist and take the sword out of his belt and toss it away, before he began to punch the man relentlessly. Horrified, she saw some of the others stepping forward, some even looking like they meant to grab for the watchman's sword.

She was not sure what instinct had come over her, but the next thing she knew, she was rushing forward, grabbing the loose sword, to make sure none of the others would take it, standing by Ser Merlon and Arnof, as Ser Merlon beat the man.

Nervously, she raised the sword, holding it in both hands. She had watched thousands of times as Robb and others trained at arms in the yard at Winterfell, never thinking much of it, but now as she struggled to figure out how to hold it properly, she wished that she had observed more closely. "S-stay back," she told them, her voice wavering.

Thankfully, they did as she said. None of the others in the inn dared to approach.

Unfortunately, she spotted at least two step out of the inn entirely, and began running off when they were outside. They were off to get the city watch.

"Rolland," she said, bending over and tugging on her white knight's shoulder. It seemed that he had knocked Arnof out, the watchmen's face covered in blood, his mouth opened to reveal several missing teeth that had not been there before. "We have to go."

Ser Merlon got up and looked around. The others in the inn were standing by nervously, afraid that the two of them might take their wrath out on them next. "You're right." He looked at the sword she had picked up off the ground. "I can take that," he said, reaching out his hand.

Myrcella gave it to him without a second thought, and then took his hand. "Let's go."

The two of them ran out of the inn and into the street. Ser Merlon still had a bit of the watchmen's blood on him, as they looked around. Nobody seemed to know what had transpired inside just moments before outside, and only seemed confused by their running.

"This way," the kingsguard knight decided, pointing down the cobblestone road.

Together they started to walk briskly down the road, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She realized Ser Merlon had tossed the sword away since he had nowhere to keep it, and walking down the street while carrying a sword like that would only cause people to notice them. Both of them were keeping their hoods up to avoid recognition, but even as they went, Myrcella could feel the cold eyes of everyone who they passed, watching them, studying them.

Eventually they turned and started down a narrow alley between a tanner's shop and a wineskin. At first, Myrcella felt relieved to see there was nobody else down the alley, but her relief was extinguished when she saw that the reason was because the alley didn't lead anywhere. Disappointed, she started walking back to the main road, but Ser Merlon stopped her.

"We should talk, your grace," he said. "Here."

"About what I learned?"

He nodded. "What did you find out? I wasn't able to listen."

"It seems that my family made an alliance with the Tyrells too, and they beat Stannis at King's Landing." How could Robb ever hope to beat an alliance of my grandfather with the Tyrells and Martells? "Robb… He won more battles, but he didn't really say much about them."

"And what else?"

"He… He took a new queen."

"The Young Wolf?"

Myrcella gave a nod. "A Westerling girl, was what he said." She tried to recall all she knew about the Westerlings. There was a Westerling woman who had wed King Maegor and been a queen, but they had fallen on hard times after they had chosen to support King Daemon in the first Blackfyre Rebellion. Even a Westerling knight of the Kingsguard when King Robert had ascended the throne had not helped them much, as Ser Elys had died during the Greyjoy Rebellion and been replaced by Ser Mandon Moore of the Vale.

"A Westerling girl?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Last we had heard, Robb had taken the Crag by storm and gotten wounded." She didn't find it particularly likely that Robb had soiled the girl before the news from Winterfell had arrived, which made her wonder if he had only married the girl because she had comforted him in his grief. Her husband was honorable and brave and everything his father had raised him to be, but he was still sometimes a fool. Her sweet, sweet fool.

Ser Merlon didn't give her a pitiful look that she knew she might have received from someone else. He seemed to understand that she didn't want his pity, and for that she was grateful.

"I-I miss him… H-he needed me to be strong, but I… I wasn't." Myrcella started to cry.

"Princess, you cannot blame yourself for Theon Greyjoy's treachery."

"I can," she said miserably. "I was the one he tasked to rule Winterfell in his stead, to be the Lady of Winterfell. To be his queen. I failed to protect the castle, and I failed to protect our children." At night in her dreams, she could still hear her little Eddard's cries of pain, after Greyjoy had cut his face. Even if he and the rest of her children were still alive, he would still be suffering in pain. Pain that she ought to have been forced to bear. Pain that had been brought on by her folly.

"You didn't fail," he said again. "You're not to blame."

Myrcella shook her head. "Robb needed a wife worthy of queenship. Strong and noble and trueborn." She hoped Jeyne could make a better queen than her. More worthy to sit by his side as he held court, more worthy to give him trueborn sons that would rule the North after him. Whose family wouldn't burn his kingdom to the ground if given the chance.

All she had wanted was for Robb to return home. He could rule the North, with her at his side, as King and Queen, the children all princes and princesses, with Robb having his family safe and together once more. But that dream had evaporated, leaving behind a bitter taste. Now all she could hope for was that she could find her children again. Once she did, she did not know if they could return to Robb, or if it would be best for them to disappear. To die as they supposedly had at the hands of Theon Greyjoy, and be forgotten by the rest of the world.

Robb would never allow it though. If he ever had a hint that they were still alive, she knew he would search to the ends of the earth for them. "I can't go back to Robb," she said, finally wiping away her tears. She couldn't force the dishonor upon him, being openly known to have done polygamy. "Not without the children first."

Ser Merlon nodded. "Then we'll search for them. We'll find where they went."

"How? We can't even stay at an inn without getting into a fight."

Her sworn shield chuckled, and Myrcella was forced to smile a little too. For a moment, she was glad to still remember how to be amused by something. He pointed up to the castle at the top of the hill, rising above the rest of the city. "That's how," he said. "Lord Wyman may not be my first choice as a lord to reveal yourself to, but he can keep things discreet. He can help us search for the children."

Myrcella nodded. She felt some dread at the prospect of ultimately finding her children. Her littlest one, the one she had just born, would most certainly be dead, having starved unless whatever thief had managed to sneak into the crypts without their notice had also taken the children to a wetnurse.

That part still did not make much sense to her either. Her children had been taken by a thief, who had not bothered to do anything to the rest of them, only taking her children, and had gone without a single trace- and had somehow managed to do it without any of them noticing in the moment. All of it still made no sense, but after they had failed to find a hint of them at Winterfell, and Maester Luwin said he had not seen them be taken by the bastard of Bolton or his men, it became clear they must have been stolen by someone else.

"How will we get an audience with Lord Wyman? We're just a pair of common travelers and can't reveal ourselves."

Ser Merlon contemplated the question a little. It took him over a minute to decide what they should do. "We need to go back," he finally said.

Myrcella was stunned. "Go back to the inn? Are you mad?"

"If a fight like this happens with a city watchman, there's likely to be at least a few officers who will be looking for us. I know at least a few of them, and they know me."

"Will they be able to get us an audience with Lord Wyman?"

"Maybe," Ser Merlon said with a shrug. "We'll get to him eventually, but for now the worst that can happen is your Young Wolf learns we are here before we've found the children."

Myrcella didn't like how careless he was being about all of this. "Robb can't know." She couldn't bring herself to face him, knowing that she had lost the children, let alone bring the shame and dishonor upon both of them that they would face.

"Aye, it's best if he doesn't," Ser Merlon agreed. "But risking him discovering us is a necessary price for Lord Wyman's help."

"You don't think we can find them on our own?"

"No." His voice was grim. "We are just a man and a woman, with little wealth, and fall setting in. We need Lord Wyman. His riches, his men, his horses, his networks. Without him, we won't be able to find the children, no."

She still didn't like it, but she saw no other option. "Fine," she said, reluctantly. "We'll turn ourselves in."

"I know that you're worried, your grace-"

"-Kiera. My name is Kiera right now."

"I know you're worried, Kiera. But I promise you, we will find them."

"I hope so," Myrcella said. "Come on, let's go back."

It turned out they had not actually gotten that far from the inn. Within a few minutes, they were back, where a dozen city watchmen were milling around now. Myrcella recognized Arnof, seeing the man's face was still bruised and bloody, and she recognized some of the others who had been eating too. She wanted to run away. All her life, she had managed to stay out of trouble, but now here she was, returning to a scene where she had caused a brawl between her sworn protector and a man of the city watch.

"There they are!" one of the fight's witnesses said, pointing over in their direction when they were less than fifty feet away. "It's them, I swear it."

She watched as the guards hesitated for a moment, before spotting them. Immediately, four of the other watchmen rushed forward, hands on their swords, ordering the crowd around them to disperse.

Neither Myrcella nor Ser Merlon moved away as the guards circled them. "Put your hands on your heads, both of you," one of them ordered, and they both did as they were told.

Arnof walked over, being assisted by another man of the city watch. "It's them," he said when he got over to them, without so much as a second thought.

"Take 'em away," the man who seemed to be their captain ordered. "Take 'em to the Wolf's Den."

The Wolf's Den? Did they recognize us already?

Her hopes were dashed immediately, as they were led to the Wolf's Den itself. Outside the city walls entirely, it turned out the Wolf's Den was a prison. As they were put into separate cells and put in fetters, Myrcella felt hopeless as she wanted to say something to get them out, but she remained silent.

"You'll be facing judgement soon," one of the watchmen said as the bars were slammed shut in front of them. He locked the doors and then turned to walk away with the other dozen of city watchmen.

Myrcella walked over to the bed in the corner. Thankfully, she did not start to cry this time, as Ser Merlon sat down next to her.

"What now?" she asked. White Harbor must have been the worst place for them to end up in a cell. Lord Eddard had always gone to do justice himself, judging criminals and performing their punishments. He and Robb always told her it was because they kept the old way, where the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. But Lord Wyman was a fat old man. Criminals were never brought into the castle unless they had been captured there, and they were on the outskirts of the city. She doubted Lord Lamprey would make a personal visit out to the Wolf's Den to see to the justice of two random commoners who had picked a fight with the member of his city watch in a city that must have had dozens or hundreds of criminals even. "We won't be getting an audience with Lord Wyman out here."

"I think we will," he said. "Unless Lord Wyman means to be false to your husband's cause, he will have no choice."

"What do you mean?"

"They'll be back, you'll see."

She expected that they would come soon, but they didn't. For nearly two hours they sat in their cell. Nobody brought them food or water, nor were any guards there to speak with them. After a little while, Myrcella decided to lay down on the bed, while Ser Merlon went to go sit on the floor.

We'll be out of this soon, she tried to tell herself. She would get an audience with Lord Wyman soon, and he would promise them aid in finding her children. Together, they would hunt down the man who stole them from her, and they would return to White Harbor, where they could send a letter to Robb, informing her that they were alive. He would find some way to make it back north, even though the Ironmen held Moat Cailin, and perhaps she could finally make herself of use to him by helping to make a peace with the Lannisters for him, on terms he might find agreeable. It seemed futile, but it was all she could hope for.

Eventually, she heard footsteps of multiple men approaching, and sat up. When they finally stopped, it was in front of their cell. Two of them were men of the city watch, but a third was someone new, a tall, grey-bearded knight who wore rich silver armor.

It was Ser Marlon Manderly, Lord Wyman Manderly's cousin and the commander of the guard in New Castle. In his hands were a golden crown.

"Tell me how you came to possess this," he said at once. "What was this crown doing among your belongings?"

Myrcella rose, finally understanding what Ser Merlon had meant when he said Lord Wyman would have no choice but to give them an audience. She stood and pulled down her hood, revealing her long golden blonde hair to him. From the shock on the captain of the guard's face, she could tell instantly that he recognized her.

"It was made for me, Ser. Tell your cousin, Lord Wyman, that the queen would like an audience with him."

"I'll take you to him at once, your grace," he said. "My apologies for your treatment here."

"You're forgiven, ser. All I ask is that you make sure all the men who knew about the crown are brought to the castle with us."

"Of course, my queen." He turned to his men. "Open their cell. Find Commander Seaward and Captain Jorrel and make your way to the New Castle."

Both of the city watchmen went off, while Ser Marlon tucked the crown away.

One returned very quickly with a set of keys ringing as he did. He didn't fumble with them for very long as he found the one for their cell and moved the barred door to the side, allowing Myrcella and Ser Merlon to step forward.

"Come with me," Ser Marlon said, leading them further into the prison, whilst the other watchman went the other way. They both followed, a little unsure, as he eventually led them past another door to what seemed like a closed off cell, but instead was a long and narrow walkway. Thankfully, the commander of the guard had taken a torch on their way, so that they could see as they made their way down it.

She walked between both knights as they went through it, until they neared the end, where there were a series of worn steps that looked hundreds of years old if she was to judge, only for them to emerge in the Godswood, which was not in the castle itself.

Myrcella lost track of their way, through cellars and secret tunnels and all sorts of other small keeps as they eventually emerged in what she gathered was a private audience chamber of sorts for Lord Wyman.

It was warm inside, the first time she had felt warm in so very long. The floor was covered in rich Myrish carpeting. The walls had rich beeswax candles that were unlit, and a map of the North was painted on a sheepskin hanging above a particularly wide seat. All of the furnishings were quite nice as well, and looked oh so very comfortable to Myrcella.

"You can sit, your grace," Ser Marlon offered, as he used his torch to light one of the candles. After he had lit the candle, he put the torch down to light the rest of the candles, one by one.

Myrcella meanwhile sat down on one of the couches that was not beneath the sheepskin map, and crossed her legs, while Ser Merlon decided to sit down a little further away. She knew how uncomfortable it had made him to be so close to her constantly as they had been traveling, sleeping underneath the same blankets lying snuggled close to each other to keep warm, playing the role of husband and wife. Now they could allow some distance between each other.

Once Ser Marlon had finished lighting the candles, he put the first one back, and then offered Myrcella her crown, which she took. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he promised them as he set off, using the other door into the room.

"I told you we would get an audience with Lord Wyman," he said, gloating a little.

"You did," she sighed and pulled her hood down, this time allowing her hair to fall freely, tumbling down to her waist. Robb always said she had such beautiful hair, but now it was unwashed, unkempt and uncombed. Hardly proper for a queen. She did her best to make it look as nice as she could, and then nestled her golden crown on top of her head and untucked her emerald pendant necklace from inside her clothes. When she was satisfied, she folded her hands in her lap.

"You're still worried?"

Myrcella gave a nod. "It's hard to explain," she lied. She knew Lord Wyman. Lord Eddard had told her he and Lord Karstark had daughters and granddaughters they had been very interested in introducing to Robb, with the intention of perhaps them winning his affections and Lord Eddard's favor in choosing a marriage for him, though he had rebuffed both lords. Later, it had been revealed to be because of her betrothal to Robb, and she was not so sure such a slight had ever truly been forgiven. And now she wasn't even a princess, just a bastard girl of the queen and her twin brother, her children some place only the gods knew, and she believed dead to the whole world. What's to stop him from killing us?

They sat in silence for a little while. Myrcella found herself thinking of her children again, trying to think of happier memories in the hopes of it cheering her up a little. She had sworn not to rest until they were found, and meant to keep that promise.

It was closer to half an hour than a few minutes as Ser Marlon had promised when the door finally opened. The armored knight stepped in, leading Lord Wyman in.

The Lord of White Harbor was just like how Myrcella remembered him. Lord Lamprey was too fat to sit a horse, nearing sixty, with a thick white beard that still failed to cover his four chins.

He struggled across the room, though still was walking under his own power without assistance, and sat himself down at the wide seat underneath the sheepskin map. "I beg your pardons, your grace, for how long it took me to greet you." He carefully studied her, as though he wanted to make sure it was indeed her. "You look as beautiful as you did on the day of your wedding."

Myrcella blushed a little. Perhaps her face was still the same, but her body was not. Birthing had left her stomach covered in stretch marks, and her figure had still not yet quite returned after this last pregnancy of hers, though the lack of food had helped her get rid of most of the extra weight. "Thank you, my lord."

"Last we heard, Theon Greyjoy had killed you and your children and your good-brothers."

"It was a trick," she explained. "Theon didn't kill us, but some common folk who could pass for us once their corpses were burned and dressed in our clothes, after we had escaped."

Lord Wyman raised an eyebrow. "To here?"

"No," Myrcella shook her head. "We hid in the Crypts, waiting for Ser Rodrik to retake the castle, or… Or until we were ready to flee, but the castle was sacked by the Bastard of Bolton who killed Theon's men, and Ser Rodrik's."

"The Bastard of Bolton? We had been told that it was Greyjoy who sacked the castle and slaughtered Ser Rodrik's men."

"Theon had less than twenty men. He could barely keep the smallfolk in line, let alone fight off an army."

Lord Wyman nodded. "Where is the rest of your party?"

"Ser Merlon and I came here. Rickon was taken with the wildling woman, Osha, to Skagos. Bran went with the Reeds and Ser Wylis beyond the Wall."

"What about your children?"

Myrcella hesitated for a moment. "I… I don't know where they are," she was forced to confess. "When we were in the crypts… They… They disappeared, perhaps a day or two after I had given birth."

"Disappeared?"

"They vanished. I tried calling for them, and… And we searched the Crypts, everywhere, and the castle too when we emerged, but there weren't any signs of them."

Lord Wyman didn't seem to know what to say to that, but Ser Marlon spoke up. "You think they were stolen," he said. "And perhaps whoever stole them might have come to White Harbor."

"Maybe," Myrcella answered. "I don't know, but have you seen anyone come through who resembles them? Perhaps they tried to book passage on a ship to King's Landing?"

"We haven't had any ships set off to King's Landing yet. We only have one that is going to be setting off in a few days. A Lyseni ship. She'll sail from here to Gulltown, then to King's Landing."

"What about Stannis's blockade?"

"He doesn't have the ships for that anymore after the Blackwater, I fear. Most of his ships were blown up by the Imp's wildfire."

Myrcella didn't really want to know the details of what had happened on the Blackwater. She was already lost as it was. "Search the boat, and those who try to board it," she said. "A man or a woman, traveling with three or four children. The oldest is a girl of five, red haired and blue eyes, then a boy of three with auburn hair and a golden streak in it like mine, and grey eyes, with a awful scar on the left side of his face, and a boy of two who has golden hair and blue eyes."

"And the fourth?"

"I don't know if… If the fourth one will have made it… I never even got to see her in light. If they don't have a wetnurse, then…"

Ser Marlon and Lord Wyman nodded. "We will, your grace."

"If they aren't here… We'll have to search the whole North."

"Aye," Ser Marlon said.

"Perhaps I should write a letter to King Robb-"

"-No," Myrcella said at once. "He can't know that I'm here yet. He married another woman while he thought I was dead. If he finds out I'm still alive…"

Neither Lord Wyman or Ser Marlon seemed to understand.

"Without my children, I should stay hidden. I'm just a bastard born of incest without them. With them, I'm the mother of a king's children." Myrcella still had not fully convinced them. "If Robb learns that I'm here, he'll try to come here as soon as possible, even leaving his men behind to do it. And he'll disband his army to have them search the entire countryside in search of the children if they haven't been found by then. I can't have that, I can't have him lose his war… Not for me."

It seemed they finally did understand now. "As you say, your grace," Lord Wyman said.

"Do you know where else they might be?"

Myrcella shook her head. "Perhaps the Dreadfort… I don't know if you have the men to spare for an assault there."

Lord Wyman pondered the question. "With time, I might have a thousand men, more even, that count march to go take the Dreadfort. My men already hold Hornwood, and if he attacked Ser Rodrik's host, that must have come at great cost to his own men."

"Thank you, my lord," Myrcella said, rising. She knelt before him, and put a kiss on his large hand. "I will not forget this kindness from you and your men." The old man gave her a smile as she stood back up again. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she had hope again.

Author Notes:

Hey, it's been a while, but I'm back!

I know it's been a couple of months, but I've still been getting a lot done on the story as a whole. Since I've been working out of order and doing a lot of tweaking to the outline, I do have over 50 chapters completed at this point, but just haven't been publishing too much. Eventually there will come a time where things reach a point where I will have a regular posting schedule, but that day is still far away.

There also have been a few revisions to previous chapters, and I did insert an additional Geralt chapter into the order that wasn't there before (Geralt I, which is set before the two chapters that I had originally posted). Jon I and Jon III as well as Geralt II and Geralt III were rewritten, but if you've already read the chapters, you're not missing too much.