Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

by Alperez16

My take on what a possible Jon Snow show set after season 8 could be.Bloodraven has one last trick up his sleeve before he dies,a contingency in case his doubts prove true.A broken man Beyond the Wall may not be as broken as he seems and as the ramifications of Northern Independence and Bran Stark being named King play out, House Targaryen and its last scion seek to have the laugh.

8. A Call to Arms

Oldtown 306 AC.

The Marsh Lord.

Howland looked over the raven's scroll, the words it contained were ones that he'd waited far too long to read. He'd done as his gods had willed him to, even if it had gone against what he'd wished to do. For more than five and twenty years he'd been the guardian of a secret that had now finally been revealed. So now, as he had done for much of those five and twenty years, Howland again began to argue with himself about the nature of his inaction.

At the Tower of Joy, he'd agreed and then disagreed with Ned over his plan. Wounded, grieving for the loss of a woman taken before her time, Howland had allowed Ned's logic to win over what he felt was true. By the time he'd arrived back at Greywater Watch, Howland had convinced himself that it was for the best. The North couldn't fight another war to put her son on the Iron Throne and the babe would grow up in the loving embrace of his family. More than anything, he'd be safe. He'd live a full and good life. Given the fate of his brother and sister, it was that which had held Howland's tongue and at first, bought his silence.

Howland had then gone about his own life. His daughter was born not long after his return and his son a couple of years later. The wound he suffered during the fight at the tower had pained him for many years and his gods' wishes for him to remain at Greywater Watch, added to the thoughts of a long and painful journey, had only made him even more reluctant to travel and see her boy for himself. So much so that in truth he'd forgotten about Jon Snow. Over the years he'd thought little about the boy raised as a bastard son when in truth he was the son of a prince and princess of House Targaryen. The dragon that was hidden as a wolf.

"Fool that I was," Howland muttered as he looked over the raven's scroll once more before rising to his feet.

He did his best to clear his thoughts as he made his way to where Jyanna and Meera would no doubt be. Walking through his keep, however, it was impossible for him to do so. Memories of days long past once again forced their way into his mind and the guilt he felt at not doing as he should have was once again palpable. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and when he opened them again his head was now clear once more. It was to be but a temporary respite. Though still one he welcomed. Howland found his wife and daughter by the fire in what served as his Great Hall. Not that anyone, even he, would name what was just slightly larger than the other rooms of Greywater Watch, as such.

"Father?" Meera said concernedly as she saw his expression and the note he held in his hand.

"The White Wolf calls," he said simply before he handed her the note to read for herself.

If it was another time and this another place. Had he done as he should have done all those years ago. Then this note would bear words that were written to him and him alone. Instead, they were a general call to arms. A call to the Leal and True. One that declared loudly who Jon Snow truly was and what his life had been. It was one that Howland had already decided to answer no matter what it had requested of him.

For had that not been why he'd finally traveled to Winterfell after so long?

Had it not been her son that he'd sought to kneel to?

Had the gods not denied him that as he and they had denied Jon Snow for years?

"You wish to answer this raven, father?" Meera asked as Jyanna looked at him worriedly.

"My king has called and I and the Crannogmen will answer, Meera."

"What of Sansa Stark?" Jyanna asked.

"I may have given her my oath, but I never gave my fealty," he replied. As he took his own seat by the fire, his thoughts now turned to what exactly he would do and what offer he would make to Lyanna's son.

The dream came to him that night. Dreams once again of days long past. A journey to the Isle of Faces that had led to him growing closer to the Old Gods and his gift being one that he learned much of. Howland dreamt of the fierce girl who stood up for him and saved him from a much worse beating than he received. A girl who then sought to see his honor given back to him and welcomed him as if he was a lifelong friend. Something he'd named himself as even if his later actions did not.

He dreamt of a solitary tower and the three wraiths who guarded it. Of the deaths of those men and one in particular. Then it was a woman's lifeless body and a babe's searching grey eyes. A voice that called out in the night naming him as a craven and a coward for not standing up for the babe as its mother had done for him. For allowing him to be raised as lesser than he was. The voice spoke of his inaction and did so derisively and in his dreams, Howland wept true and full tears.

"Where were you when he was being denied leave to eat with his family because he was named as what he was not?"

"Where were you when he was allowed to waste his life away at the Wall because he knew not the truth of who he was?

"Where were you as his life blood spilled onto the snow?"

"Not by his side."

"Not where you should have been."

Howland woke with a start and jumped up from the bed. He was as naked as the day he was born and covered in sweat. Shivering, he moved to dress and looked back at the bed in relief to see that Jyanna slept still. Walking out of the room, he soon found himself standing on what served as the parapets and looking out over the swamp which looked even more dark and foreboding this night. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of birds cawing and what he believed to be a wolf's howl. The latter was the one he concentrated on as he closed his eyes once more.

His thoughts turned to the day Jojen told him that he and Meera were needed at Winterfell. At the time, Howland had let it be his worries for his son and daughter, not the fact that he'd been needed there long before his son was, to be what he'd led with. How he'd listened to his gods once again and not traveled to the Wall when Ned Stark had lost his head and Robb Stark and his mother were murdered. Not even when he'd heard the tale that Jon Snow marched with a Wildling army to take Winterfell back from the Boltons did Howland offer counsel or aid to the boy. Nor did he me seek him out when an army of dead men marched to end them all. He'd denied him even when the lad rested no more than a few miles from where Howland himself lay his head.

"Why?" he asked the stillness of the night. "Why not then and now? Why was I made to wait?"

The soft footsteps behind him went unheard and the feel of Meera's hand when she touched his shoulder almost caused him to jump over the small wall that he was leaning against.

"By the old gods," he said shakily.

"Sorry father."

"Meera, you should be abed."

"As should you." his daughter replied.

"I find sleep hard to come by." he sighed.

"Those questions do have answers, father."

"Aye, and yet they elude me, daughter."

"Jojen…" Meera took a deep breath, speaking about her brother was still hard for her to do "He said the Old Gods have a plan, father. That we're all but merely their playthings and each of us is faced with a choice."

"A choice?"

"To do their will or not."

"Sometimes I believe things would have been better had I not," he said sadly.

"Or they may have been worse. Who knows the truth of things but the Old Gods themselves? Mayhap had you sought Jon Snow out earlier or sought to interfere then the world would belong to the dead and the only king anyone could swear allegiance to would be the Night King."

"Or mayhap Jojen would yet still live and Jon Snow would never have had to bleed to death or stab his aunt in her heart."

"Mayhap," Meera said and Howland welcomed that she'd not tried to convince him that she was more in the right of things than he was.

"I travel to White Harbor on the morrow."

"No, father, we travel to White Harbor," Meera said leaving no room for question.

After saying his goodnights to his daughter, Howland made his way back to bed and found sleep easy to come by. He woke early the following day and broke his fast with his wife and daughter before then readying himself for his journey. In five and twenty years he'd left the Crannogs but once. That time he'd believed he'd be swearing himself to the same king he now intended to. Only to arrive at Winterfell and find that the king was a king no more. At least in name.

During his brief time at Winterfell, he'd seen that the wolves had long since left that place. He'd given an oath that he'd serve House Stark as he always had, yet he'd not knelt to Sansa Stark nor named her as his queen. Upon his return to Greywater Watch, he'd sent a raven and then a letter to Wyman naming his intent to once again resign himself to looking over his lands and his lands alone. He'd told the Merman Lord that it would take a white wolf's howl to change his mind and that he knew no king but the King in the North who lived now Beyond the Wall. Little did he imagine that it was to be but a temporary sojourn that Jon Snow was on. The Old Gods, once again enjoying their little games at Howland and everyone else's expense. Or so he thought.

Howland gathered his men and said his goodbyes to his wife. Though he was not exactly marching to war, he knew that he and the North were on the very precipice of it. As they climbed into their boats and made their way through the swamp's cool green waters, he swore he heard a voice in his head. A voice he'd not heard since he'd left with Meera all those years earlier. His son's voice. Closing his eyes and blocking any other sounds from his ears, Howland listened to the words that were spoken and smiled upon hearing them.

"This was always the plan, father. This was always the right time." Jojen said as the boat moved through the water and brought Howland closer to seeing her son once again.

Driftmark 306 AC.

The Lord of Tides.

Aurane had watched and waited from the periphery of things. He'd looked on as Westeros tore itself apart and had kept to himself, as much as he could anyway. While his brother had sailed with the Stag, Aurane had sought favor from the Crazed Lioness. Finding some, though not as much as he had wished. He'd gone looking for the coin to buy ships while hoping his looks would be enough to raise Cersei Lannister's interest. Only to find it was still her brother and then later after he'd left King's Landing behind, Euron Greyjoy, that had done so. So instead of gaining ships through his looks and skills in the bedchamber, it was piracy that he'd turned to.

Starting off with one ship, he now had a fleet of five. As Westeros raged in war and chaos and the Iron Born looked to fight each other, Aurane had named himself the Lord of Tides and ruled over the seas. To an extent at least. Yet he was and always would be a man of Driftmark and so with his fortune made it was to his home that he next set his sights on. Little knowing just what he'd find upon his return there.

A brother who'd fallen and was presumed dead. A nephew who was far too young and somewhat lost in grief. Not to mention that the wars he'd thought he'd left behind, all still raged on. Even if they did so with some new players in the great game. Aurane's first instinct had been to set sail for Dragonstone and to offer his House and his own service to the Dragonqueen. Yet by the time he was ready to do so, Daenerys Targaryen was long gone from the island and it was not to remove Cersei Lannister from the Iron Throne that she had left for. So Aurane had sat, watched, and waited once more. He'd helped his nephew be the man he should be. Monterys he'd found had simply needed family by his side and a guiding voice. Something they both needed now as he looked at the raven's scroll that he held in his hand.

"You think this true, uncle?" Monterys asked him as they sat in the solar at Driftmark.

"Your father never believed that horseshit about Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark, nephew. Nor did I. The prince had no need to kidnap or rape any woman. Where he just to look their way then he could have had any or all of them that he wished for."

"Yet a hidden prince..is that not…"

"Unbelievable." he answered and Monterys nodded "It would be, mayhap. Yet it makes sense too. Why were the Kingsguard at a tower in Dorne while the prince fought on the Trident? Why was Arthur Dayne there? For there was no man closer to Prince Rhaegar than he nor any man more capable with a sword in hand. Your father and I spoke of such things many years ago and neither of us could make any sense of it."

"And now you can?"

"This makes sense," Aurane said looking at the scroll.

Monterys looked at him, his nephew was eager for him to take the lead and help guide him onto the right path. Aurane though wished him to offer up more doubts and questions first. To have his nephew challenge himself more before he simply gave him the answers that he sought. There was no doubt of them supporting Jacaerys Targaryen. They had no bond with the Broken King and Aurane personally felt it was an affront that such a man sat on the Iron Throne. Especially given the man he had named as his Hand.

"He names himself a Kinslayer, uncle," Monterys said, taking him from the thoughts of what Tyrion Lannister had done during the Battle of Blackwater Bay and what it had cost both him and his nephew.

"That he does. Yet in some cases, kin needs to be slain does it not? Given what the Dragonqueen did to King's Landing, what she may have done again, was death not the right and only sentence she should have faced?"

"But at her own nephew's hands." Monterys was aghast.

Aurane had considered this from the moment he had heard of what Jon Snow, Jacaerys Targaryen, had done. A part of him had named the man a traitor and wished him death simply because of their own ties to the House of the Dragon. Another had been incredibly relieved that he'd not yet had the chance to offer his House and his own service to the Dragonqueen before she'd been taken from this world. While the largest part of all remembered what his brother would say when he spoke of Aerys Targaryen. How despite hating Jaime Lannister with all his might, there were times when he'd blamed him not for striking down his king.

"Sometimes there is but only one who can get close enough to deliver the blow, brother."

Placing the raven's scroll back on the desk in front of Monterys, Aurane could see just how keenly his nephew was looking at him. Reaching over to the jug of wine, he poured himself a glass of it and brought it to his lips. The sour taste of it was welcome and it gave him another moment to gather his thoughts.

"Sometimes there is but only one who can get close enough to deliver the blow, nephew," he said as Monterys nodded at his words.

Aurane set sail for Claw Isle later that day. His ship the Seahorse was faster than most and it cut through the waves with ease. He'd allowed Monterys to speak the words and had been most pleased with how firmly his nephew had done so. Their House had always stood with the Dragons first and foremost and would do so once again. It was now time to see if that was true for the other Lords of the Narrow Sea.

The Seahorse reached the seat of House Celtigar in no more than a day and a half. It had been almost ten years since he'd last seen Lord Ardian Celtigar and the man had been old then. However, when he walked into the Great Hall and saw him sitting holding petitions, Ardian looked no different nor older than he had when last Aurane had met him. The Crab Lord was sharp as a tack too and recognized him immediately. Aurane noticed how he nodded to one of his men and within a moment the man had walked to where Aurane stood.

"My lord would like to speak to you in his solar, Lord Waters." the gruff guard said.

"Lead the way."

He was not kept waiting too long and though he could be irascible and sour, it was a smile that he was greeted with when Ardian walked into the solar and took his seat.

"Some wine, Aurane?"

"I thank you," he said as Ardian himself poured him a glass.

"I take it you're here because of the raven?"

"I am. All received one?" he asked as he sipped his wine.

"I would wager so. I've not sent men to find out and I had not expected it to be a visit, but another raven that would come from your House."

"Some things are better said in person."

"That they are. So let's speak our treasonous words together then." Ardian said with a chuckle.

"You name it true?" he asked curiously.

"Rhaegar never kidnapped Lady Lyanna, only a fool would have believed that. As for Eddard Stark having a bastard, while I knew the man not and only by reputation, it never sat right with me. It's the Kingsguard though. Arthur especially." Ardian said and Aurane could have laughed loudly at just how similar their thoughts had ended up being.

"Monford always said that Arthur Dayne was Rhaegar's truest friend."

"That he was. He was his shadow almost. Oh, others guarded Rhaegar but none as truly as Ser Arthur did. It was always most strange that he was at some tower in Dorne and not at the Trident. Until this raven came bearing the news that it did, I've always cursed the man for that."

"Now you don't?"

"Now I don't," Ardian said as Aurane finished the wine in his glass and Ardian poured him another.

"And Daenerys Targaryen?" he asked as Ardian sighed.

"Was her father's daughter and better it was kin than strangers who took her from this world."

"You truly believe so?"

"I wager it was a kinder and cleaner death than any other may have given her, Aurane."

They sat in silence for a few moments, both of them contemplating their next moves. In truth, they had few men to offer to Jacaerys Targaryen and even fewer ships. All they truly had was their fealty and yet that was probably more than enough.

"So we support a Dragon once more?" Aurane asked.

"We do."

He and Ardian spoke of numbers and men, supplies, and how to contact Jacaerys Targaryen. In the end, Aurane was handed a letter of intent by Ardian to be handed to their new king by his own hand. From Claw Isle, it was to Sweetport Sound where Lord Gareth Sunglass was just as welcoming as Ardian had been. He too was more than keen to name himself a true servant of the new king. So much so that he sent his sworn shield, Ser Triston of Tally Hill to bear the letter of intent personally. Lastly, it was to Sharp Point and to Lord Duram Bar Emmon.

When Aurane had last seen Duram Bar Emmon he was a feeble-minded fat boy of no more than five and ten Namedays. The man he met at Sharp Point was anything but. Whether it had been time, events, or some other force at work, the years had been most kind to the young lord of Sharp Point. Gone was the fat and now a body toned by much work in the yard was what Aurane saw. As for the feeble mind, mayhap that had been a mummery of sorts, for Duram was anything but feeble-minded. There was to be no letter of intent for him to carry when he left Sharp Point either as Duram himself wished to travel with him when he did so. Not only that, but Aurane now finally had a place to set sail to as well.

"Oldtown, you're sure of this, Duram?" Aurane asked.

"I am, one of my men spoke to some sailors at Massey's Hook. They had a surprising arrival there a moon or more ago. Davos Seaworth."

"The Onion Knight, for why?"

"I know not, other than the new Lord of Storm's End and he were once close. Mayhap the king sent him to try and bring him to their side."

"Did he?" Aurane asked eagerly.

"I doubt it. The man is a Stag and was close to the Starks too. Given what the king says about the Broken King and the Red Queen, I wager the Stag wants no part of this war. Or if he does it'll be on the opposing side that we'll find him."

"And Oldtown?"

"Was where the Black Betha set sail for."

"Then it's to there we sail too."

"Good," Duram said, seeming most excited by the thought.

With fair winds and no misfortune, they'd arrive there in less than a moon, if the winds were good, far less. As they set sail and left Sharp Point behind, Aurane felt the excitement begin to build in his chest. It was the same he'd felt when he'd set out for King's Landing all those years earlier with a plan in mind. Similar to when he'd set his sights on piracy and gathering the wealth that would make his House strong once more. An adventure with no limits, it's what he had always sought and once again what he was to know. Yet there were other reasons why this one was even more exciting.

Where House Targaryen went so went House Velaryon. The Old, The True, The Brave. Many years earlier he'd set out to be Master of Ships, even one to a queen from a House he hated. Now he once again saw that dream to be not such an impossible one. Even if it was one that would take a war to see come true.

Winterfell 306 AC.

The Red Queen.

She looked like an absolute vision. Her hair shined and the dress was a snowy white that was pristine. Atop her head, she wore her circlet crown, and it only added to the image she wished to portray. Behind her, Jeyne spoke and yet Sansa heard her not. All her attention was on the image she looked at in the looking glass. The poised and beautiful young woman whose blue eyes stared so intently back at her and who promised herself that she'd enjoy this wedding day and the night to come.

Moving from the looking glass, Sansa walked to the door where her guards awaited. Each of them was dressed in bright blue doublets as the grey of her House was far too drab a color for a ceremonial guard. They awaited her command and when she gave it, they and she, began the long walk to the Sept. Along the way, the female servants threw petals at her feet from the winter roses that she'd ordered cut. It allowed Sansa to feel as if she was walking on the very sky itself. She reveled in their stares as she passed them. For she knew full well just how much a true queen she looked.

Entering into the cool air of Winterfell's courtyard, Sansa even enjoyed the chill for once. It kept her even more alert and allowed her to look at the household as the woman curtsied, or tried to, while the men bowed or dropped to a knee. When she reached the door of the Sept, Sansa took a breath to compose herself. She knew there were those who wished her to wed in front of the Weirwood. Yet she'd not allow this wedding day to be tarnished with memories of the other. Besides, this was the wedding she was meant to have. The wedding that had been denied to her or turned into an insult by the husband that she'd been forced to wed.

For the first time in her life, Sansa Stark was making her own choices with no one to gainsay her or go against her. They would not be choices influenced by anything but her own wants and desires. She was a queen. Her husband was to be her King Consort today, and a king in his own right soon enough. Together they already controlled two of the Seven Kingdoms and they would not be stopping there. For Sansa was done accepting less than was hers by right. Nodding to the guard to open the door, she stepped into the Sept and saw Harrold standing waiting for her. Her husband-to-be looked as handsome and dashing as any man she'd ever known and from today onward, he was to be hers and hers alone.

"Her grace, Queen Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North." the herald called out and all eyes turned to look her way as she walked on steady legs toward Harrold.

She felt their eyes on her and welcomed their envy and dare she say it, their jealousy. There were men in the Sept who wished her for their own or for their sons. Lords who she'd seen look at her with lust in their eyes and who wanted her for her body as much as they did for her crown. As for their lady wives or their daughters. They wanted her husband-to-be just as much. It made the smirk on her face become even more pronounced as she moved to stand beside Harrold and then knelt down when the Septon bid her to.

Her maiden cloak was removed and she was soon cloaked in her marriage one. It was one of her own design. A new sigil to represent both their Houses. That Harrold was only too keen to acquiesce to her wishes bode well for their future. A Red Wolf and a White Falcon atop a bridge across a river. Her House, Harrold's, and her Mother's were all represented to show what their union truly meant. They were the bridge between the North and the South, and their joint claim on the Iron Throne would be enough to bring the rest of Westeros to their side. Once they dealt with her bastard cousin that was.

"Sansa?" Harrold whispered softly upon seeing her frown.

"It's nothing," she answered, her voice as quiet as his own and when she offered him her warmest smile, she welcomed seeing his own soon appear.

The Septon spoke words she barely heard and though she wished to turn and look to see how each lord, lady, or their son or daughter was looking at her husband and her, she knew she could not. When she did turn to face Harrold and felt the ribbon be wrapped around her hand, she certainly could not. Her eyes were only on her husband as they readied to speak the words to each other.

"In the light of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and speak the words of your devotion." the Septon said and as one, she and Harrold spoke the words.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

They both moved towards each other and she closed her eyes as she felt his lips touch her own. The kiss sent a shudder through her as she knew that today, tonight, they'd be sharing it and many others. When they moved apart, she heard the cheers and looked out finally at those who'd come to celebrate her wedding day. They were fewer than she wished and yet those who were not here were no friends of hers and would in time be put in their place. Forcing such thoughts away so that she could get back to her enjoyment of the day, Sansa welcomed the offered arm of her husband and allowed him to lead her out from the Sept.

The feast they held was the most extravagant that Winterfell had hosted in years. It was close to the one that her father and mother had thrown for Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister when they'd first arrived all those years earlier. There were countless dishes and some foods that had been held back for this day alone. Sansa ate a little from each of the six and ten courses and sent the rest to various of her most supportive lords. Every so often, she turned to listen to something that Harrold whispered in her ear, and some of the things he said were wicked and wanton. They enflamed that little spark of desire that had been building in her for the days and weeks she'd known him. As did the fact that he drank sparingly and kissed her cheek, ear, neck, and most especially her lips when she offered them to him.

By the time the desserts had come, Sansa was more than ready for her bed. More than keen to be alone with her husband. Even if she still held some worries about that too. She had prayed to the Mother that she'd know pleasure in her marital bed. Hoped beyond hope that when the time came and they lay together for true, it was Harrold and only Harrold that she'd see. That all thoughts of Ramsay would remain hidden in the locked box she kept them in and none would force their way into her head during her wedding night or any of the nights to come.

"Sansa?" Harrold asked, his concern further enflaming the fire within her.

"I'm well, husband."

"Thank the gods, I'd hate for my wife not to be so. Not on this night above all."

Sansa leaned forward to kiss him, a kiss that threatened to develop into one that was certainly not fit to be seen by so many eyes. She whispered huskily into his ear and asked him when they could depart the feast, both happy and yet not by his reply. They would need to stay for a little longer so as to not give anyone any reason to feel slighted. An hour or mayhap two. The politics demanded it of them and Sansa understood that to be true. Even though she wished it was very much not and in some ways, she had hoped that so too did Harrold.

Later when they did actually leave and she'd risen to thank everyone for coming and bid them to enjoy the rest of the night, Sansa found out that Harrold too had wished it to be different. He too had wanted to be alone with her just as much as she had. She had laughed when he told her that he wished they could have said to the seven hells with the politics. That his only reason for not doing so was that in knowing her as he was beginning to, he knew that later she'd have been upset at herself for doing so.

"You truly thought of me?" she asked as she stood nervously in front of him.

"Out there we are a king and queen, Sansa. Though it pains me so, we belong to others as much as we do ourselves."

"We do," she said resolvedly.

"But in here…" she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her towards him "In here, we belong only to each other."

"We do…" she said before her words were silenced.

When he undressed her, she felt her heart begin to race and her worries increase. She was scarred and marked. Her body which should be pristine and perfect was very much not. Harrold looked at her and she feared he'd not like what he saw. Almost to the point of panic, she feared it.

"Beautiful," Harrold said when he kissed her again, his fingers softly rubbed over her scars and Sansa almost wept against him.

She would have if his fingers had not found their way to her breast and weren't doing such incredible things to her hardening nipples.

"Harrold…"

Sansa laughed when he lifted her up and carried her to bed. She lay naked in front of him while he was still fully dressed and before she had a chance to feel some shame at that, her husband began to remove his own clothing. Slowly, sensually, he made it a show for her, and by the time he was standing as naked as she was, Sansa cared for nothing else but the desire and need she felt for him and that needed to be quenched.

"Come to me," she said, and then her own fingers began to explore while his did so as well.

Waking the next morning, she felt a little sore and there was some discomfort. They were welcome feelings though. As had been almost all of those that Harrold had wrung out of her during the previous night. Sansa had found the pleasure in her marital bed that she had wished for. More than once she'd been brought to and then over the edge. Other than some slight awkwardness when he was on top of her, she'd enjoyed every single moment that they'd shared together.

Looking at him as he slept, she hoped and believed that he'd enjoyed it too. He'd told her so when she'd asked him. Had japed with her that he was not so good a mummer to only act as if he did so. Then he'd spoken to her softly about her scars and held her when she'd cried over them. Harrold had said that only that it was by her own hand or he'd have wished to be the one that took Ramsay from this world. He'd then promised her that he'd make sure that no one ever hurt her again and that he'd kill every single person who ever dared to try. Starting with her bastard cousin.

That had led to another act of lovemaking and that one was just as pleasurable as the first. Seeing his eyes open, the bright blueness of them looking up to her and welcoming the kiss she gave him when he did so, Sansa wondered if it was wanton to wish to lay with her husband in the light of day.

"Sansa," Harrold said before he moaned her name in a way that excited her greatly. Her fingers touched his manhood and the feel of it hardening in her hand all told her that wanton or not, they would be laying together this morning regardless "Oh gods, Sansa."

All thoughts of anything else were lost to her as they took their pleasure with each other once again. Harrold then helped her dress when they were done and they walked to break their fast together. Later that day, they sat in her solar and went over their numbers together as they did their plans to deal with Jon and whatever men were fool enough to join him. At dinner that night they spoke of more pleasant and distracting things and when the time came to retire for the night, both of them did so with a glint in their eye.

A queen, a true queen was what she was and she had finally met her true king. Nothing or no one would stand in their way and Westeros would be theirs. Of that, Sansa had no doubt whatsoever.

King's Landing 306 AC.

The Broken King.

While around him, Tyrion sent ravens, called for aid, and readied an army, Bran remained alone in his chambers sailing the rivers of time. He sought answers to questions that he'd hoped he'd never had to ask. Cursed himself for not acting sooner or dealing with Jon more truly. Bran couldn't even truly remember why he'd not simply sought Jon's head other than he was still acting like a mummer who cared about his so-called brother.

Was it because he feared it was a step too far?

That too many people would seek to stand by his cousin's side was he to be sentenced to death?

Was it fear of Jon himself?

He knew not and it bothered him greatly. As did his lack of insight into what was happening in the realms he ruled over. Each time he tried to look, he'd find his sight limited to things that helped him not. Winterfell, he could see and knew fully what Sansa wished and would try for. Though he'd not known about the Vale which irked him. Bran could see Storm's End and that Gendry had called forth an army. Just as he could which way that army would march when he requested it to. In the Riverlands, he could see his uncle as he rode to Riverrun to send out the ravens that Tyrion and he had bid him to.

Yet the Iron Islands, the Reach, the West, and just as worryingly, the Lords of the Narrow Sea, were all blocked from his sight. In the present at least. Bran could see their past as clear as day. He could sail the river right down to the founding of Houses. Could look at their greatest and worst-ever moments as if he was merely looking out his window at the lands below. When he tried to look into their future, was when things became unclear, however. It was unknown to him, unclear, and though not hidden completely, enough of it was to make him doubt what he saw.

As for his birds, they were useless to him when he tried to look through their eyes at the things he wished to see. Every time he did so, the connection would be severed most violently and leave him in no doubt it had been done with purpose. What that purpose was, he'd not understood at first. Now he knew it was to hide Jon's movements from him. Which brought up some even more worrying thoughts and questions.

How?

Who?

Why?

And could he stop it?

The answer to the first of those was simple enough. There was another who had powers similar to his own. It made Bran think of the Night King and whether or not someone had managed to steal his powers when he fell. Which in turn forced him to look back to the moment Arya stabbed him in his icy heart and see that he and his powers had both left the world at the same time. With that option removed from the table, Bran was forced to look at the man who gifted him his own and he found little joy there either.

He saw Bloodraven in the cave before he arrived. Saw his thousand eyes and one as they sought out him and him alone. Bran could even feel the eagerness that Bloodraven and the Children felt as he neared the cave with Jojen, Meera, Hodor, and Summer. There was no doubt nor sign that Bloodraven sought another or held back and yet, Bran still felt that he had.

"He must have," he said, his voice carrying around the empty room.

As he looked Beyond the Wall, his birds flew high in the sky. They flew towards the Reach and did so from as many different directions as he could manage. More than one hundred of them in total. All of them linked to him, though loosely for now. Bran took one last sail along the river and found himself back at the Wall when Jon arrived after his sentencing. He could see how happy he was to see Tormund and Ghost. Though the air of sadness that he bore was almost coming off him in waves. Following him as he traveled North, Bran was left frustrated when he was only allowed to do so for some time. Something once again forced him from seeing anything of use.

"How?" he cried out in frustration.

The door to his rooms opened and Podrick stepped in, a worried look on his face as he looked in Bran's direction.

"Your grace?"

"All is well, Podrick."

"Of course, your grace. Should you have need of me…" Bran stopped Podrick's words with a dismissive wave of his hand, he'd no time for niceties or care for them most days, today he certainly did not.

Waiting until he was alone once more, he looked not to the past or the future, but to the present. Bran sought out his birds and found to his delight they had almost reached their destinations. Then one by one, he felt his connection be severed and it was almost as if he was been stabbed with a hundred knives.

The bird flew over the sea and towards Oldtown, the Hightower in view as it cut swiftly through the sky. Yet it was not the fastest thing that flew that day, nor the highest. From above the Gyrfalcon swooped, its talons soon tearing through the black bird's flesh before it fell from the sky and saw no more.

Over the lands of the Reach, past the keeps that showed little or no movement, the raven flew lower to the ground than it would usually. It dodged through the branches of the trees, using them and the branches as cover before it then increased its speed once it was free of them. Death didn't come from above, however, it came from the sides and as the black bird turned its head and tried to change direction, the hawk it looked at was not the one that ended its life.

Highgarden awaited and the smell of death fed the raven's senses. There would be good eating to come and so despite the presence inside it bidding it to be wary, its hunger won out and decided its speed. Just as the smell became overpowering, its own death quickly followed.

The boat, there was something about the boat that sailed along the river that it needed to see. In its head, the voice demanded that it fly and fly faster. It demanded that it show it what it wished to see. Close to it, two other ravens flew, their task not to see as it had been bid to, but to offer themselves up and buy it the time it needed to do so. The raven felt it long before it reached them. A sixth sense telling it that danger and death awaited.

It heard the screeches of the two other ravens that flew with it, felt their fear and it reinforced its own. Then it felt only fire as the flames overwhelmed it. An image of red death and a loud roar was the last thing it saw or heard before it was taken from this world.

Bran was in a panic. He felt the pain as if it was a real thing and not just something in his mind. Each severing of the link had hurt, though not in the way the last one had. That pain had felt so real that Bran now looked at his hands, arms, and legs and half expected them to be aflame. To his relief, there was no fire anywhere on his person. He had not been burned, even if he felt as if he had. His birds had been and so his relief was only a momentary thing.

"A dragon. He has a dragon." Bran cried out, "How has he got a dragon?"

Not Podrick nor Tyrion when he had been sent for could calm Bran down. The fear he felt was true and real and one that only the death of Jon Snow would remove. Had it not been for the worried words and even more concerned looks that he was been given by those who served him, then Bran may have lost himself for longer that day. As it was, he could not afford to be seen to lose himself too much and so he acted a mummer and portrayed calm that he felt not.

"Your grace?" Tyrion asked worriedly.

"I lost one of my familiars, Tyrion. An accident, nothing more. Though the severing of the link so suddenly can be disconcerting and causes great discomfort."

"That was all, your grace?" Tyrion asked, his suspicion clear in his expression as he did so.

"Truly. What word on Lord Bronn?" he asked changing the subject.

He was relieved to find there was none. More so when Tyrion told him that he'd sent word to Highgarden to order the man back to King's Landing. Though he did worry if even those ravens had managed to get past whatever it was that stopped his own from doing so. Bran listened as Tyrion told him that he'd sent out word for their army to be raised. He played it off as if this was his first inkling of such. Even though he'd been well aware of all that Tyrion had done or planned.

'If only my insight into Jon was as clear as it is with Tyrion' he sighed.

Bran then went about the day as if it was normal and made great pains to show that he was well. He waited until later that night to once again let his panic overwhelm him. The thoughts that Drogon and Jon were together and they were who he had to face were ones he couldn't shake. Closing his eyes, it was the black dragon that he sought out once again. It was birds far from the lands of Westeros and days not so long past that he looked for and through and for once he was given comfort from his visions. For the first time since he'd truly begun to look for him, Bran found a path to the black dragon. One that showed him where he was now. Drogon was far from here and while it should worry him that it was Volantis he roosted in or that he no longer bore Daenerys' body in his talons, it was the removal of a much bigger worry that he concentrated on. That and the chance to take a dragon for his own.

"Let me in?" he said before darkness claimed him for the night and he awoke the next morning laying on the floor covered in his own blood.

Wiping his nose and calling out for Podrick or anyone to help him back into his chair, Bran wore a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

"I will have you. You will be mine," he said aloud, his words for the black dragon alone. As he was helped back into his chair, his thoughts were on what he'd do with Drogon and how Jon would be powerless against him once he'd made him his.

Stonehelm 306 AC.

The Forgotten Wolf.

He'd never believed it would be him that would lead them home. Not even when he'd heard all the news from Westeros, belated though it was in reaching him. War, an independent North, betrayal, murder, dragons, and dead men. The tales had a little of everything in them and only some of them gave Torrhen or his men a reason to smile. Had the call come from the King in the North, then the Company of the Rose would have added their swords to his. To serve a son of Stark who ruled and took orders not, that had been the one thing that would have brought them back to the lands of their forefathers.

Yet that king had died and while another had been named in his place, that one had not called for them at all. Worse than that, he'd then knelt to the dragons once again. Something that Torrhen and his commanders had cursed him for, at first anyway. Later as the true tales of the battles fought in the North and the enemy they faced had reached them, Torrhen had blamed the man not for kneeling. Some things were more important than a crown, after all. That it had then made him look at the King who Knelt a little differently. Well, that was something that Torrhen kept to himself. As he did the annoyance that even later when a queen was named, no call came for them.

They'd been forgotten by the North. That was the only explanation that Torrhen could come up with and it made him a little bitter to think on it. So he'd resolved himself to it not being him to lead them home and had wondered if anyone ever would. He'd wondered it right up until the banker had arrived and then he and his commanders had listened to a tale that not one of them had ever heard the like of. A tale of a broken betrothal, far too many deaths, and a boy who was far more than any, but one man, truly knew.

Moons ago.

Torrhen looked out from his window and watched the men as they rode in through the gate of their barracks. The banker along with two escorts, which in itself was a strange enough thing to see. Mostly they traveled alone unless they bore a payment or were collecting one. A man from the Iron Bank had little to fear while traveling through any land. As should they be challenged, hindered, or worse, harmed, then the wrath of their employers would be visited a hundredfold on the fools who'd done so.

Noho Dimittis was a man that had dealt with the Company before. A man he liked not and trusted less. Yet one who had always been fair in his dealings with them. It had been he who'd given them the contract to act as their retainers, now that the Golden Company no longer named Essos their home. It seemed that their services were now needed and if he was being honest with himself, Torrhen was glad for the chance to wet his sword once again. For far too long he'd been idle and that suited him not.

He took his seat and waited for the man to arrive. Alone though he was, it would not be that way for long and quickly enough, Brandon and Artos joined him.

"Hugo?"

"Leading the banker in," Brandon said and Torrhen nodded.

Ale was poured, four mugs full and food was sent for, along with wine. Noho had refused to drink the last time he was here and probably would again, but the offer would still be made to him to do so. The banker arrived before the food did and was sitting in his seat while Hugo took his own. A moment after Torrhen had taken the first swallow from his mug, Rickard arrived bearing the food and wine. To his surprise, Noho actually accepted a glass of it when offered.

"Who are we to kill?" Artos asked, breaking the silence.

"No one. Not at our command at least." Noho replied "It seems we need to change the terms of service, Lord Commander. For it's someone else we wish to be able to call upon your swords. Someone we have no doubt that you'll find more comfort in serving than even us." Noho said, the man almost smirking as he took another swallow from his glass.

"Who?" Brandon asked.

"A son of Stark who is the One True King. A bastard who is very much not one. The White Dragon, Jon Snow."

Dragon?

What did he mean Dragon?

Did he not understand who they were?

Torrhen raised his hand to stop the inevitable arguments from taking place. Brandon, Artos, and Hugo all looked to him and bid him silently to speak them for them.

"We follow no dragons," he said firmly.

"Not even one who is as much a wolf as he is a dragon." Noho said and Torrhen bid him continue "What know you of Lyanna Stark?"

"That she was raped and killed by a Dragonspawn." Hugo spat.

"Was she indeed?"

All four of them listened as they were told the truth of Harrenhal. Of a secret wedding and a babe born to a mother who died while birthing him. How that babe was raised as a bastard to protect him from those who'd kill him should his truth be told. They were told of a history that some of them knew. For the tales of Jon Snow and the events in the North had reached them even here in Essos. Then they were told tales they didn't know. Of how after the Dragonqueen had destroyed a city it was Jon Snow who took her from the world.

"Did they honor him for doing so? Name him as who he was and place him upon the throne that was his by blood. Would that was the way of the world and that kin placed value in kin." Noho said sadly.

"If he's a dragon it makes him a Kinslayer," Artos said.

"It does and I doubt he'll name himself any different. Far too honorable was his upbringing for him not to."

"You would have us serve a Kinslayer?" Brandon asked.

"I'd have you serve a son of Stark who ruled and took orders not."

"He's half dragon," Hugo said annoyed.

"Aye, and half wolf too," Artos replied.

"Torrhen?" Brandon asked and all eyes turned to him.

"You say the boy is Lyanna Stark's son? That he's not his uncle's bastard? You name him the One True King?"

"I do. As too does the Iron Bank."

"And his sister and brother who are truly his cousins?"

"Are no wolves, Lord Commander. You know the tale of the Direwolves of House Stark?" Noho asked and Torrhen shook his head, he knew it, as did the others, or some of it at least, yet he wished to see where Noho was going with this and so he bid him continue "On a hunt, Lord Stark, his sons, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow came across the body of a Direwolf impaled by a Stag's antlers."

"A sign from the Old Gods," Brandon said softly.

"One that went unheard," Artos added.

"Indeed." Noho said "They found five pups trying to suckle at their mother's teat. Three males and two females. Lord Stark thought it best to end the wolves then and there, that he was doing them a mercy."

"Kill the sigil of his House, was the man a fool." Hugo almost shouted.

"It was Jon Snow who pointed out that they were indeed the sigil of House Stark. He pointed out that there were five pups, one for each of Lord Stark's trueborn children."

"Yet none for himself," Torrhen said.

"No. He convinced the Lord to allow the Starks to raise them and then the gods showed their favor by gifting one more pup. White, mute, the runt of the litter, a wolf that some may say was fit enough for a bastard. A wolf that he named Ghost. Over the course of their many troubles and travels, each Stark soon lost their wolf. Each of them except one. There are three trueborn Stark children alive in this world. One has set sail on a fool's errand, and two sit on thrones that they have no true right to. Not one of them has a Direwolf to call upon."

"And Jon Snow still does?" Brandon asked.

"No. Jacaerys Targaryen does." Noho stated firmly.

Now.

As the sight of the coast came into view, Torrhen turned and walked across the deck. The fleet was seventy-five ships in total. Sellsails hired to take them one way and one way only. Whatever happened from here, Torrhen doubted any of them would return to Essos. It would be death or the North that they'd know. Though they would know much fighting before then. Making his way to his cabin, he thought about the letter he bore close to his chest. A letter that had been written by a dragon who was a wolf.

Promises had been made and one above all that he and his fellow commanders were only too happy to see. The lands of the Gift would be returned to the North, for the Night's Watch was no more. Those lands would need new lords, or so the letter stated. That and there were no better or truer men that Jacaerys Targaryen could name to rule those lands than those of the Company of the Rose. Torrhen vowed a different vow than the one that had been spoken by Brandon Snow all those years before. He vowed that he, his men, and their descendants would know a different life than those who'd come before them. They would know the lands of their forefathers and would name those lands as their own once more.

Entering his cabin, he waited for the ship to dock and once it had, Torrhen was among the first to set foot in Westeros. Over the next three days, each ship was emptied of all but the sellsails who had brought them here. Camps were sent up and orders awaited. They did not have to wait too long and when the orders came, Torrhen was just as surprised as Brandon, Artos, or Hugo by the messenger that brought them to him. The Gyrfalcon had showed up outside his tent and almost called him to it just that very morning.

"Is that a message it bears?" Hugo asked as he pointed to the Gyrfalcon.

"Aye, it is. Now which of us is brave enough to seek to take it from its leg?" Brandon asked, a half smirk on his face as he knew that Artos hated birds of all types.

Torrhen moved to the bird and removed the note, opening it to read the words and smiling when he did so. Another man may have asked how the Gyrfalcon found them or even worried that their arrival was not as hidden as they may have liked it. Given who had sent the bird their way and that it was he they had come to serve, Torrhen worried not.

"The White Dragon bids us to make for Summerhall."

"Of course he does." Brandon japed, garnering a few laughs.

Torrhen looked most forward to seeing Jacaerys Targaryen in the flesh and to taking the measure of the man for himself. As he did to the battles to come. Lands that were to belong to him and his men were far better to be earned than gifted and the Company of the Rose would earn them. Of that, there was no doubt in his mind.

Oldtown 306 AC.

The White Dragon.

Aegarax was hungry for attention. The red dragon was much like a child who sought a father's love. Each thing it did would be met with a look to Jace to see if he'd seen it. A look that begged for praise and so praise him, he did. When it cooked its own meat, flew for longer than it had thus far, or soared higher in the sky than it had once done, Jace would praise it. As he would with each raven it took from the sky and in this, it was a most diligent student.

Syrax had shown how much she hated these birds of ill omen and Aegarax had watched, learned, and taken note. At times it was almost a contest between them both for Jace's attention and approval. With the red dragon being just that much needier for it than Syrax. In some ways, it reminded him of when Ghost was but a pup or Syrax was still a young chick. Though unlike with either of them, this time he felt an almost ownership of the red dragon. It felt like his child, not just a child. Something that would put him in mind of Dany and how she thought of her dragons and if he'd let it, then he'd be fearful for Aegarax because of it.

So Jace did all he could to not let it. There was no Night King to aim spears of ice and take Aegarax from this world and before his time was done, Jace would ensure there were no scorpions that could harm him either. As Oldtown came into view, Jace closed his eyes and called out for the red dragon, Aegarax quickly answering him and showing him what he'd been up to. The smile came unbidden to Jace's face at the sight of the black birds being covered in flames.

"Better luck next time, cousin." he snarled before extending his arm so that Aegarax could land upon it.

The red dragon trilled once it had done so. Then it almost ran up his arm to take its place on his shoulder. Turning his head, Jace was met with the deep purple eyes of his dragon. A look in those eyes that he knew all too well. Reaching out his hand, he softly stroked the underside of the dragon's snout, hearing it trill loudly as he did so.

"Aye, you did well, Aegarax. They were no match for you at all," he said, to even louder trills.

Syrax landed a few moments later and Jace moved to the rail of the ship's bow to softly stroke her feathers and praise her too. The feel of a wet nose rubbing against his other hand forced him to turn and look down at Ghost and Jace could only imagine the sight he presented when he rubbed his hand over his soft white fur.

"Come, we'll be docking soon," he said as Syrax flew to the door of his cabin and Ghost then moved swiftly across the deck of the ship to join her.

Less than an hour later he was disembarking and Syrax was in the sky and on her way to the Hightower to meet him there. Ser Humfrey's brother Garth was who greeted them and while Jace acknowledged the man and spoke briefly to him, it was left to Malora to tell him more of the battle and its outcome. Ser Humfrey and Sigorn walked at his back, their white cloaks gleaming in the morning light. Jace had been offered a number of other men and more had been recommended to be named to his Kingsguard. Though he'd, for now, refused. While they were good men and true or seemed to be at least, he knew them not. He knew too that he would mayhap need to keep positions open to be offered to some of the other regions of Westeros. Late to the world of politics, he may well be, but they'd not find him lacking in it, not anymore.

'I can't afford to be' he thought as they walked through the streets of Oldtown and towards the Hightower.

Ser Garth walked with his sister. Lady Malora both listened to what her brother said and concentrated on other things. Or so Jace believed given how she occasionally closed her eyes every so often. Tormund, Val, and the rest of the Free Folk may have claimed to dislike how clean and tidy or how full of people Oldtown was, yet each of them was showing their own joy at being back here. Not that they would be staying here too long.

Lord Leyton awaited them when they reached the Hightower and the look on his face when he saw Aegarax was priceless. When Jace bid the red dragon to fly and let loose his flames, it was only even more so.

"Soves Aegarax." (Fly Aegarax) Jace said and within a moment the red dragon was a few feet above his head "Dracarys Aegarax." he added and the red dragon loosed a flame into the empty air in front of him "Mazis" (Come)

At once the red dragon flew to his outstretched arm and made its way back to Jace's shoulder. Again his purple eyes looked into his own grey ones and so Jace praised him once more.

"By the gods, your grace. A sight I'd never believed I'd live to see." Lord Leyton said happily and before Jace could answer, he saw her standing there with an incredible look on her face.

It was more than awe or wonder and for a moment, Jace couldn't give it a name. When it finally came to him, he felt a lump in his throat that took him a moment to ignore. Lady Desmera had been worried about him and the look he saw in her eyes was one of great relief. It surprised him greatly as did his own reaction to it. So much so that even after the lady herself had moved to him and spoken her greeting, Jace stood silent. The small screech that Aegarax let out was more than enough to shake him loose from his thoughts and he offered the lady a small smile before greeting her in return.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Desmera. Good to see you well."

"You too, your grace."

Though he wished to speak more, he had a need to get indoors and so after Lord Leyton told him that Oldtown and the Hightower were his and Jace had bid those who greeted him to rise, they entered the Hightower itself. It was to his room he went first. Jace removed his armor and dressed less as a man ready for a battle and more as a man who would fight one in a different arena. Still armed, he moved to his solar and sent for Lord Leyton, Ser Baelor, and Lady Desmera. When they arrived they were quickly joined by Lady Malora who had left to look to her own duties.

"No doubt you've all heard of the Battle of Highgarden by now?" he asked as they took their seats in his solar.

"We have, your grace. A fine and true victory." Lord Leyton said offering him a warm smile as he did so.

"Lord Jon and Lady Janna have taken up their residence in Highgarden itself and will see to its defenses and the securing of whatever is in its treasury. As for its former lord." Jace looked to Desmera who stared back at him eagerly "He breathes no more." he said and saw the relief on the lady's face at his words.

"We've received the following answers to your offers your grace." Lady Malora said handing him a number of raven's scrolls.

Jace read through each of them eagerly. Stunned and yet not by the level of support he'd received. The West had already begun to move their men to join him. Under Ser Daven Lannister a large force had ridden out from Casterly Rock and was now traveling south along the Ocean Road. Yara Greyjoy had offered up the Iron Fleet and was sailing to Oldtown to speak to him personally. While the Lords of the Narrow Sea had all declared for him and House Velaryon too was sending someone to speak to him. As for the North, House Reed and House Manderly had been joined by House Flint and House Wull. With mayhap the other Mountain Clans to join too, once they'd heard him speak words from his own lips.

He would need to send many more messages tonight and to further work on his plans over the next few days. The Riverlands and the Stormlands would need to be dealt with before he turned his attention to Bran, Tyrion, Sam, and King's Landing. Then it would be the Vale and the North especially, given that it was from the seat of her cousin that his own cousin had sought aid. Jace knew that more and more Houses would come to his side once the truth of his support was known. He more than had the men to do what was needed and it almost made him chuckle as he thought it over in his head. This was no taking back of the North or Battle of the Bastards where he was outnumbered greatly. Far from it.

"We'll firm up our plans in the next few days. Lord Leyton, we should expect many visitors before we march again. Though the day that we march for true draws ever closer." Jace said.

"Of course, your grace. Oldtown stands at the ready."

They spoke then of lesser matters. Or what to Jace where lesser matters. Eventually, he dismissed them and moved to where Syrax and Aegarax were resting. While Syrax perched, Aegarax lay beside the fire, only moving when he felt Jace's presence. Once he did, the red dragon flew into his arms and Jace did finally chuckle as he laid the red dragon down atop his own bed. Just like a babe, Aegarax moved under the covers and made himself most comfortable.

He left a number of guards at the door when he left for his meal that night. Men of the Free Folk along with some men of the Reach who'd bloodied themselves during the Battle of Highgarden. Lord Leyton held a victory feast of sorts and during it, Jace found Lady Desmera looking his way more than once. The lady was only too happy to grant him a dance when he asked for it and Jace came very close to speaking to her about becoming his wife and queen. Only to decide that there and then was not the time and place to do so.

It was later that night after the feast had ended that the opportunity arose. Jace had escorted Lady Desmera back to her room, which he'd been pleased to see was still the one next to his own. After speaking to Ghost, Syrax, and Aegarax, Jace moved to the balcony outside and found Desmera almost waiting for him. In the light of the moon, she looked almost ethereal. The red of her hair looked dark and then bright with each blink of his eye. It sparkled and her eyes were just as alight when she looked at him.

"I thank you for what you did with the Sellsword, your grace. I had feared…."

"Jace," he said looking at her.

"Jace." she smiled.

"I had promised it would not be your fate, Desmera." he said before adding much to his own surprise "You shall not be made wed a man who is not of your choice."

"I am most grateful for it."

"I…"

"Jace?"

Jace took a breath and told himself to stop acting like a green boy. He had little experience with women, true, but he did have some. Once he felt his resolve return, he readied to speak the words, only for other words to come forth.

"I've known and loved but two women in my life. Both of whom died in mine own arms. One to the arrows of the boy who later drove a dagger into my heart. The other to a dagger I drove into her own. Tormund would tell me that I've shit luck with women." Jace said trying and failing to make it a jape "And so mayhap you will forgive me for my words not being more poetic."

"There is naught to forgive," Desmera said softly.

"I know not if there is love still in my heart, Desmera. Whether it's the fear of losing another or something else that threatens to hold me back from feeling that way again. So I both hope for and yet fear love in equal measures." he turned from her to compose himself, then once he did "I am the last of my line, the only remaining member of a House that survived the Doom of Valyria and countless plots and betrayals. As both that and as a king, I have but no choice but to take a wife and bring forth an heir."

"You do."

"I cannot promise I will love whoever is to be my wife, Desmera. I hope I will. I pray I will. But that fear of loss is one fear I'm thus far incapable of chasing away. What I can promise with absolute certainty is that I will know no other woman but the one I wed. I will lay with no other woman other than her and none shall hold a place in my heart above her." Jace looked at Desmera to see if she was eager, apprehensive, or even clueless about what he was about to ask her. He found the look on her face one that was very hard to read" The wish you have to make your own choice as to who you wed is one I respect and one that I believe in wholeheartedly. So I wish you to know that you are under no obligation but to answer only how you want to."

"Answer?"

"Lady Desmera Redwyne, it would be my great honor to name you as my future wife and queen. I would ask you to marry me." Jace said to what could have been a soft smile or a trick of the light.

There was no answer for some time, or at least that's what it felt like to Jace. The stillness of the night made the silence seem everlasting and so by the time Desmera actually went to speak, Jace was sure it was to reject his offer.

"I thank you for your honesty, Jace. I'll not lie and say I had hoped that should the day arrive when a man I felt worthy sought my hand that he'd ask for it far more romantically."

"I'…"

"No matter." Desmera said stopping Jace from speaking "I have no desire to be a queen, Jace. Nor to be wed to a man who loves me not, but.."

Jace laughed a full and true laugh, stopping Desmera from speaking further such was her surprise and confusion at his reaction.

"Forgive me, Desmera. My uncle Ned was oft heard to say that everything before the word but is horsehit."

Desmera laughed as truly as Jace had just done. Longer than even he had and it was a most delightful sound in the quiet of the balcony that they both stood on.

"Your uncle may well have had the truth of things, Jace, but…" Desmera said winking at him as she did so and making him chuckle "I believe you still have love in your heart, Jace, and not all marriages know it at first. My mother and father were wed not at their behest but at the behest of my grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell. Yet they found much love with each other and I believe that you and I could find that as well."

"I would hope that we would, Desmera," Jace said truthfully.

"All marriages should be built at least on hope, Jace. So yes, I would be most honored to be your wife."

He moved to her, his hands touching her shoulders and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. Lowering his head so he was looking directly into her eyes, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her own. Which of them turned the kiss into a much more true one, Jace knew not. The images that he'd feared would go through his mind when he kissed or held a woman in such a way again, did not. Thanks be the Old Gods.

Instead, it was the same images he'd seen during his dream at Highgarden. He and Desmera sitting beside each other in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. Their three children standing in front of them as they spoke of flying on dragons sometime later in the day. They were the images of a future he'd just taken the first step in seeing come to pass. The images of a family that was yet to be. Hope for the years to come that had now firmly taken a place within a heart. A heart that was breaking free from the ice he'd surrounded it with ever since the last day he'd stood in the Throne Room. For Jace knew better than most that not even ice can stand against a dragon's flames.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Forgive me for my absence, but I had a truly terrible holiday period. Firstly I got my second dose of Covid which was far worse and took much more out of me than the first one. Then as I was recovering, my brother passed and I just happened to be the lucky one who found the body. So I've not been in the best place mentally and certainly in no mood to write or think about fics.

It's taken me a few weeks to somewhat come to terms with things and I'm doing much better now, both physically and mentally. I've restarted writing and so while this will be the only chapter of any of my fics released this week, from next week on it'll be back to normal. I'm not sure which fics are next to be updated, probably Dragonverse and Live as a wolf or Dark Prince. But there will be at least two updates next week.

Up Next: Allies converge on Oldtown as a wedding is held before, just like his uncle many years before him, Jace says goodbye to his new wife and leaves to wage war. Davos settles back into his old role and finds it instead to be a new one while Tycho arrives in Dorne with an offer and a threat from the Iron Bank and Jace adds two more men to his Kingsguard as they march to Summerhall and meet up with the Company of the Rose.

Missed reviews:

Anthony r89: The Starks were my fave House too, from the books. The show ruined them Imo, firstly by killing the good ones, then by what they did with those who remained. Ned I However changed my opinion on with every new fic I read. As other than what he did initially with Jon, his actions are questionable at best. I like Robb but I have issues with him too. While Jon has always been my fave character, hence him being my protagonist always.

I don't mind Bran or Arya's arcs in the books, but they became such simplified black-and-white versions of those characters by the end of the show and Arya is almost schizophrenic. She's like a Katy Perry song. She's doing her list, then she's not, then she is and then she's not, it's dumb.

With Sansa, I can see her book character going the same route as the show in terms of plotting, ending up as queen, but at least it being done in a way that makes sense. One where it's clear she cares only for a crown, and I don't mind that. It's the whole, she's so great and everyone should just bow and listen to her BS that the show gave us that I take issue with.

As for the war, yes, I completely agree. It would take time to happen, but it is inevitable. Dorne and the Iron Islands would secede first. Then probably the Stormlands and Vale and within a few years you'd have 7 kingdoms again and over time the same battles that took place before the Targs conquered would be happening once again. The only reason it would occur more quickly would be if there was an extra element introduced, such as Jon offering himself as an alternative as he's doing here.

In regards to the brides, there are no Hightower ladies. The youngest daughter is Lynesse who was married to Jorah Mormont and none of the children have granddaughters. This means that Desmera is the most eligible woman in the entirety of the Reach. She also has links to Olenna since she's her granddaughter, which then links her to the Hightowers and Fossoways among others. A Manderly, Royce, Redfort, Mallister, or Blackwood would all be lesser than Desmera as well. Not to mention that Redfort and Mallister have no daughters/granddaughters, and Ysilla Royce is wed (yes, I could make her not, but it did influence my thinking that she is married to Mychel Redfort) So it really leaves only Blackwoods or Manderly's. The fact is that by the time canon comes about, there is pretty much only Margaery, Arianne, Myrcella, Sansa, or Shireen who'd be higher ranked than Desmera. Here, we've no Arianne, Sansa is out of the question and the other 3 are dead. Trust me, I did a lot of soul-searching before picking Desmera.

I hate naming OCs, it's why I try not to use them. Artos is a common Northern name and so it's one I use a lot. But I prefer to use canon names where possible. So yes, it may be lazy, but no more so than having a dozen Walders within the Frey household.

Yes, Bronn is a certain way, however, there is a difference between being that was as sellsword/cutthroat/sworn shield and as a Lord. In the books, Bronn once he becomes a lord has more to lose, so he's that way with those he can be and not with those he can't. Here, he's complacent because for a year he's been able to be. He doesn't think anyone can muster the force to threaten him and so isn't expecting Jon Snow. The same way as he rode with Jaime, he wasn't expecting dragons or Dothraki. It's not complacency to be caught unawares, it's only complacency if there is a reason you should not be. Remember, he serves Bran too and knows somewhat his powers and not so much that they're on the blink, so again, he has no reason to expect what coming.

Political games are always being played in Westeros. It's one of the defining traits and when it comes to war, they are needed. This is almost spelled out literally by GRRM during the WOTFK and it's the political alliances as much as the actual forces that win the wars. You can't do one without the other. Also, in Jon's specific case, he's learned the lessons of taking back the North. Here, he has no urgency and so more time to do it right.

Jon isn't aware of who Genna may pick, other than she'll pick someone. Regardless of that, none of Genna's children played any part in the RW. So if he can do a deal with Genna despite who her brother was, then it would make him a hypocrite to then deny her son leave to be Warden based on simply his name.

Chapter 7 reviews.

Tsroughs: I don't know which is worse, the fact you still don't know who Jacaerys Velaryon is or the fact that you don't understand a bloody typo.

Orthankg: Thanks so much.

Daryldixon: Really glad you liked it.

Celexys: So very glad to hear that.

Rhatch: So happy you enjoyed it.

Dunk: It very much was. It also was just that, a dream, not really a vision but more the fact that he already knows he is the last of his House and to be king, so he needs to wed, so it's more his subconscious telling him to do what needs to be done, rather than it being the gods. With Sansa, I'm sort of just expanding upon how I think she acted with Dany. When you think about it, she should really have had no chance of deposing Dany, and Dany's strength you could argue was larger than what Jon has now (larger by an even greater degree by what Sansa thinks Jon can gather) so odds wise, she'd look at Jon and Dany, see she's won out over Dany and so think Jon an almost easier opponent in a lot of ways. She also looks at her own position as being much stronger too. So it's both that she beat Dany with less and that Jon has less to call upon than Dany too, which makes her somewhat arrogant basically.

Anya is in slightly a different position. First, her plans were already in motion. Second, because she's unaware of just who Jon already has on his side, she sees a window of opportunity. I'm playing around with the way information travels and how much time it takes for certain things that happen in one region to be known in another. So Anya doesn't know that Jon already has the Reach and others, while she does know that there is a chance he'll bring allies to his side, she doesn't know how many he already has. In some ways, she's sort of playing a Tywin Role here. In that, Tywin was worried about Stannis more than anything else, he worried about what could happen should Stannis gain allies, while also dismissing Robb as an irrelevance. Still, he worried what could happen should the two join together, so he went to deal with, what to him, was the weakest force, before then looking to the strongest, all the while taking potential allies off the board. Well, Anya is sort of doing that in a way, win the war, then the allies will come to her, not Jace. As long as it's done quickly.

We'll see that more with Bran over the next few chapters. Yes, we will be seeing Arya, in another chapter or so I think, certainly by chapter 10. As for the joining up, well Jace understands the nature of war far better than those he's facing, so that's one thing he'll do all he can to stop.

Biohazard: So very glad you enjoyed it.

Supremus: Yes, characters are acting OOC, Jon especially. But this is supposed to be a reaction to things and let's face it, characters were far more OOC by the end of the show than in any work of fiction ever. Gendry owes Davos a blood debt yes, but he also has responsibilities to his people too and other voices to listen to. If his lords don't wish to bow to Jon, then he's left with two choices, fight or stay neutral. However, either comes with its own problems. Firstly, it's certain that Bran will call him to arms and he's sworn an oath to the king, as have his men. Secondly, Jon seeks the deaths of at least two of the Starks, and Gendry is still in love with the third of them. Love trumps most things and Gendry still holds out hope that he and Arya will end up together. That certainly won't happen if he refuses a request for aid from Bran and stands idly by while he and Sansa are killed.

Jon is bloodthirsty, very much so. He feels wronged and whether or not you believe he was, I think there is enough room within the confines of how the show ended to name it as so. To me, there is no way that Bran can be seen as anything other than evil, Show Bran. Now, most of this is down to terrible writing, his inaction, the timing of the reveal of Jon's truth, etc. Even down to his reasoning for coming to King's Landing. As for Sansa, while the show may have tried to paint her as clever, smart and always right, the simple truth of things is that her actions work far better in the context of her being a manipulative conniver who was willing to do everything she could so she could be queen. So that's the start-off point. With that in mind, then Jon is left with two choices, accept or not. Here he's not. Either way, you cut it, those who ended up in positions of power at the end of the show did so by screwing over House Targaryen in some way. Either with Dany or with Jon himself and well, payback is coming.

Sventhedecoy: Very much so. Benjen going to the Wall makes no damn sense whatsoever. By the time Ned returns to the North, House Stark consists of him, a newborn son, a nephew, and Benjen. No second sons ever go to the Wall as far as I can find in canon, and at the end of the war, Benjen is now the second son. Logic dictates that Ned would have done as you say, but then again Ned does so little to actually strengthen the North and it's one of the reasons why I give him such a hard time in my fics. He's one of the worst Lords ever. Robb actually does more as he's marching to war than Ned did in 15 years as Warden. My other fic, Last Wolf, goes with the idea of Ned actually dying at the TOJ and Robb dying in childbirth. So the North ends up with Benjen ruling it as Jon's regent. It allows for change far more easily than anything that can truly be done with Ned's character IMO. Because the key thing you have to remember with Ned is that he had all the reasoning already, yet did so little. I mean, simply to protect Jon and his family, he should have done more. If Robert had found out then they could have simply walked into the North, yet Ned at no point even considers this. Instead, he's like, the secret will hold. Stupid.

Macdog: Thanks so much, it means a lot to hear you say that.

SupremusWench: I don't mind people having a different opinion than mine. Not all of us like the same setups or plotlines. I do agree though about the show being Cat's wet dream. We have that for those who wish to see the Starks on top and claimed as the good guys. Hell, we even have canon too, which sort of paints them the same way. House Targ got screwed and so for me and my fics, I go the other way all the time.

Mattblack: It's so damn annoying. The worst thing is that they tie themselves in so many knots to explain away what we can all see so damn clearly. Then they get nonsensical in trying to defend the indefensible. We saw it with the two idiots that wrote GOT. Some of their explanations for their dumb plot points were just laughable. "Dany kinda forgot about the Iron Fleet" I mean come on. There are so many examples of modern shows forcing actions to happen that go against either previous ones or destroy a character in order to make it happen, that finding a show where it doesn't happen is like panning for gold.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, that's a big part of it, they can sort of guess but they don't know. I like the idea of them understanding Jon enough to be scared about him.

Guest13: Very well said and you're English is fine. I've always wondered why no one ever brought that up. In other stories, I've had Jon do so, so we may see it here too. But you're spot on, well said.

Lord of the East: Thanks for saying so, glad you're liking it.

Galwitanatitud: So very glad you enjoyed it.

F1gymnast: He very well may do. I also said that Kit did something to annoy them. It could have been something as simple as marrying Rose Leslie (Ygritte) in real life and making them jealous or something, but it's very clear they don't like Kit and very much don't like Jon Snow, to me at least. Seasons 7, 8, and even 6 and 5 all go downhill. As soon as they really divert from the books, we're almost screwed because we're then in the hands of two idiots. I mean, honestly, what changes to the story did they make that actually worked? At any point in the show?

I never thought Dany would go mad and that's where I really took issue. Ruthless yes, and yes she can be very black-and-white in her decision-making, but at no point does she show any actual madness. Even what they tried to suggest were signs, were more signs of ruthlessness than anything else, and those they had proclaiming their worries about her loudest, had also shown signs of ruthlessness too. Dany took no pleasure in killing, Sansa fed a man to the dogs and smiled as she did so, which of those seems on the path of madness? As for Tyrion, where was his compassion when he killed Shae, his father, and was ordering men to be burned alive at Blackwater Bay.

In the hands of a good or even a competent writer, however, you could have played it out in a way that at least made some sense. They should have used the idea of her being with child. Had her go through all the losses and then the loss of a baby once again to throw her over the edge. With Jon, I think having it be his choice to kill Dany, forget about having others speak to him, but have him feel he needed to do it to save her. Where maybe they had a conversation where she said her worst fear was to be like her father or something. Then him just going, fuck the throne and Westeros, I'm going North with the Free Folk. That at least would make some sort of sense, but they wanted to paint Jon Snow a certain way and Dany as a monster, even if it made no sense to do so.

Here I wanted Jon to acknowledge what he did and accept what he thinks it means. While at the same time, having others look at it in different ways, which they more than likely would. There would be some who believed he had done the right thing and others who'd curse him for it, so that needs to be shown. Sam, I think just comes across as the worst friend ever. He tries to use Jon's truth to get his own revenge on Dany, then conveniently forgets Jon's truth during the meeting to crown a king. Logically, Sam should have been pushing Jon there, yet he doesn't and so that shows him for what he truly is, someone who uses people. Davos, yes, he could grovel more, but they've not really spent that much time together as of yet, so we'll see. And yes, more Northern Houses will support Jon both because of who he is, and because of Sansa.

Lady Octarina: It's funny, I keep thinking that there is no more mileage with the later canon, then find a spark of inspiration from somewhere and I'm off again lol.

I'm beginning to think that's exactly what the Jon Show will do. Kit did a round of interviews at the last convention and while you could say that he was simply giving a state of mind for Jon sort of answer, it sounded very much like the show is just going to be Beyond the Wall stuff. Now, hopefully, he just didn't want to spoil too much as of yet, but it did make me think that's how it'll go, and well, they can bloody well keep it. None of us care about Jon beyond the Wall, I don't think. We don't want to see moping Jon Snow, we had enough of that.

It's funny you say that about Visenya and Rhaenyra, as I have stories with Jon with both of them ongoing now. While the Visenya one isn't so much about revenge, it is about her getting more of her due. While the Rhaenyra one at the moment is in its infancy and is about changing her life too, the next book in the Dragonverse will be more full on fire and blood revenge.

With the pairings, it really is the logic of them that gets me more even than the particular lady involved. I mean, I have my faves, obviously, but I usually start off with what Jon I'm going for, what arc he's to follow, and once I've got that nailed own, it's then what lady makes the most sense. Jon going south early = Marge, Jon at season 6 to 7 canon, usually = Dany, etc. Myrcella is an interesting one, though you always have to age her up. I'm damn close to a Jon/Cersei. I can write the basics of it, but it's more a pairing fic than a plot one at the moment, and I need to nail down the plot first.

As for a more Ned/Cat. I'm starting to try to go more that way in some fics. In Last Wolf, Jon/Marge won't be love at first sight or for some time. Here with Desmera, Jon feels incapable of love, so we'll see. Later, I hope to show more complex relationships, (Jon's ones in the Dragonverse will be much more varied) but maybe it's the romantic in me that just likes the idea of it being almost a true love thing. Or maybe it's that romance is sort of where I feel weakest in my writing and so in trying to nail down that right, I've not taken too many chances as of yet. But I do intend to play around some more. Though in the end Ned/Cat found love very quickly too lol.

Oh, we'll see some fun time with Aegarax especially, baby dragons require much attention lol.

Hyokage: Oh Drogon will definitely play a part, this isn't the last we see of him and no, Bran isn't getting him.

Scarilla: Sorry about that with the updates, I need to tie some stories up and try not to have so many ongoing, but unfortunately, my writing style doesn't allow me not to.

Anthony r89:

On Sansa, I work with what we're given. This is who she was at the end of the show, not who she is in the books and Sansa cared more for a crown and its accompaniments than anything else. One look at her coronation is enough to show that. Before Sansa, no Northern Ruler would ever be coroneted that way. Where I've taken some liberties with Sansa is in her and Harrold, but I personally think that Sansa's character comes full circle in the show. She starts off as a girl who wishes for a crown and who does things that harm her family so she can get what she wishes. Yes, she's naïve, but it's what she does. At the end of the show, she does exactly the same thing, except she's no longer the same naïve young girl, supposedly. But her wants remain the same. Well in that case, that too would be true when it comes to who sits beside her and a pretty face would still win out, especially if there was some gain to be had from the alliance.

Jettshay: Your wish is my command.