The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon

by Alperez16

Two lives are taken and two not, changing the game forever. Jon Snow is raised by his uncle Benjen to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Rhaella Targaryen escapes to Essos to raise her children and plot her revenge.

8. Many Reavers to Cross

A/N: The letter Jon writes is full of spelling errors deliberately.

Braavos 289 AC.

Rhaella Targaryen.

She'd done all she could to alert the North and now could only sit back and wait for news to arrive. Much though she would wish to see the Greyjoys actually set events in motion that brought Robert Baratheon down, not a single one of her advisers nor her husband believed it possible. Even were the realm not to fully support the Stag, he'd still have more than enough to beat the reavers, Lucerys had said, and she deferred to him when it came to matters of the sea.

Yet as she held the letter in her hand and looked at it for the hundredth time, it was its contents alone that she was focussed on. She'd believed that it would be many years yet until her grandson was told the truth and a part of her worried that they'd made a huge mistake in telling him so soon. So mayhap it was for that reason and that reason alone she'd not yet opened it, even now, hours after it had been placed in her hand. Instead, she'd gone about her day, made her plans, and been with her children and her husband, all while carrying the letter in the pocket closest to her heart.

"It'll not read itself," she said with a small laugh that belied her worries.

Closing her eyes, she opened the letter. Her hands were shaking and her fingers needed to be almost commanded to move. The writing looked as if it was that of a young child's and yet there was an elegance to it that almost made it seem as if it was written by an older hand. Rhaella wondered if her grandson had simply spoken the words and someone else had written them for him and then found she hoped he had not. As she read the first sentence, she began to believe that it was Aemon himself who'd written the letter.

My dearest Grandmother,

I hope this letter finds you well, you and my uncles and aunt. Though I've not known the truth of myself for long, I consider you as much my family as the one that is raising me. I wish you know this most of all. Forgive me if my words are some what jumbled or if at times I make no sense, I want there to be no pre tense in what I say and so I've written them as I thought them. Mayhap in the future letters we share, they'll be less confusing. I also pray you forgive me for any mistake written, as I could not make the Maester correct my letter and didn't wish for anyone else to know what was in it.

My mother, for I consider her that way and have been blessed by the gods to have been gifted two, told me more of the truth after my uncle had told me the beginnings of it. She has told me what it is you wish of me and I beg of you to not hate me should I seek another path. I know not how to be a lord, grandmother, to be a king seems so beyond me and yet, I know it's what is wanted for me to. I ask for time, time to become the man I should be and if needed, the king you wish me to become.

I long to meet you, grandmother. To see you and my uncles and aunts, to share with you my warmest embrasses. I need you all to know that, to know that my thoughts and dreams now involve you all as much as they do anyone. I'm learning of my father, of you and of our House. Our history and what it means to be a dragon who is a wolf too. One day we'll stand across from each other. I'll feel your arms around me, I'll laugh and jape with my aunt and uncles and each day since I've learned the truth, is a day that takes me closer to that one. It fills me with a risolve, with comfort to know I've more family in this world. I pray you feel the same way. I am safe grandmother, safe, well and I am loved. My mother, aunt and uncle, my cousins, even my sworn sword who I belive is thanks to you, I am loved and I am safe. I hope you and my kin are the same.

I love you, grandmother. Though we've not met, I love you with all I am. Viserys, Daenerys and Maekar too. I pray for you all each day at the weirwood and speak of you when I'm alone in the crypts with my mother. I'll write as often as I can, and count the days until we meet.

Your loving grandson,

Aemon.

The tears came unbidden, her soft sobs going thankfully going unheard. She questioned all her choices, all the things she'd done, and rethought most of them. Choices that had been made for her that she now hated and wished had been different.

He should be here.

He should be with his family.

He should grow up with his true family.

She welcomed the thoughts as a grandmother and argued with them as a queen regent. The simple truth was that he was where he needed to be. Had he been with them, then things would be much harder when the time came to make their move. So for now her heart would just have to suffer and hope that he suffered less.

Rising to her feet, she moved to the chest where she kept her most precious things and after one last look at the letter, she placed it there amongst them. Walking from her solar, she nodded to Ser Arthur and made her way to her children's rooms. Viserys slept wrapped tightly in the covers and after she'd kissed his cheek softly, she moved to Daenerys' room. Her daughter slept atop the blankets, her blood that much warmer than even her own, and Rhaella smiled to see her arms wrapped around her egg.

"Sleep, my love, dream those wonderful dreams of yours," she said softly as she kissed her forehead.

It was to Maekar's room that she went next, her son had only recently been moved from her own rooms to his own and had taken some time to adjust to them. Entering to see him lying there, thumb in mouth and with his stuffed dragon in his arms, Rhaella couldn't help but smile. She had feared that Viserys was to be her last, then had been sure of it with Daenerys. To then have another, to bring another child into the world, had been a gift from the gods themselves.

"Sleep, my little prince," she said softly as she kissed him on his warm cheek.

Walking from the room, she tried not to think about Aemon and hoped that one day, she'd get to kiss his cheek too. She believed she would, vowed she would, and there was nothing or no one in this world that she'd allow to stop her from doing so.

"We will be a true family one day, I swear it," she said as she entered her own room and readied herself for bed.

Fair Isle 289 AC.

Stannis Baratheon.

He'd had to play nice with the Redwynes and other Reach lords which he'd liked not. His memories of their feasting outside his walls while inside he and his starved, had never been forgotten nor forgiven. Yet they were on the same side now and so he'd held his tongue. The fleet he led was a large one. Close to one hundred and twenty ships and not a single one of them a match for the Fury. His plan was sound and as they sailed, he felt some excitement deep within himself.

In the Rebellion, through no fault of his own, he'd been besieged and so had played no part in Robert's victory other than in keeping their home from falling into the hands of their enemies. After it, he'd been tasked with taking Dragonstone and capturing the Targaryens and had only managed the former. Rhaella and Lucerys Velaryon had moved far more quickly than any of them had expected. It had led to scorn and ridicule by his brother and would mayhap have led to worse had it not been for Catelyn. Stannis had found out from his goodfather that had it not been for their wedding, then it would have been Dragonstone and not Storm's End that he'd have been rewarded with.

It was yet another reason why he and his brother would never truly see eye to eye. Though it wasn't the only reason for such. Still, as he sailed, as he considered the victory that he was most certain he'd win against the Iron Born, Stannis tried to put his feelings regarding Robert to one side. Long after the Greyjoys had been dealt with, people would speak of Stannis Baratheon beating the Reavers at sea. So for now that was more than enough for him. Yet the gods are cruel and even this was soon to be denied to him.

"Iron Born, my lord." his captain said to him as he sat in his cabin "We've gotten our first sight of them."

Stannis hurried from his room and made his way up the stairs. Grabbing the Myrish Eye from the captain, he looked in the direction that he was directed to and saw the ships for himself. Good fortune had smiled upon them, as not only would those ships not escape him, there were fewer of them too. He counted no more than fifty in total and couldn't believe he'd been so lucky. His one fear had been that his fleet would be scattered by bad weather and that when he caught sight of the enemy, they'd be the ones with the numbers. It seemed to have been the Greyjoys who'd had the misfortune of this happening to them and not him.

"Raise the sails. Fire the signal arrows. Order the attack." he shouted, his orders immediately followed and as he looked through the Myrish Eye, he was pleased to see how quickly the other ships responded.

He caught sight of the Black Betha and was happy to see that Ser Davos was ready to respond. Looking to the Redwyne ships, he felt them to be slower than his own in how they made ready, yet make ready they did. Calling for his squire to fetch his sword and dagger, he forwent his armor. As much as it may protect against a stray arrow or even a full-on fight, should the Iron Born be lucky enough to board his ship, only a fool wore armor at sea. Like it or not, you had a better chance of sinking to the watery depths because of it, than it saving your life from a weapon used against you.

It seemed to take no time at all before the fire arrows were flying and the balls of pitch had been launched. The crew on the Fury was amongst the very first to do both, which he was more than proud of. Ahead of him, the Iron Fleet or the part of it that they'd encountered tried to fight back against them with little success. Numbers, supplies, training, and some unknown reason all combined to make all their efforts fruitless.

Through it all, he stood on deck, and with the Myrish Eye, he looked to his fleet, then theirs, and gave the required orders when needed. He directed ships to attack from the left and right of the Iron Fleet. Ordered others to sail past the battle itself and to cut off any retreat. While the main bulk of his fleet attacked the Iron Born head-on. Stannis gave them nowhere to run to, left them no chance of escape, and sought to end them here and now.

"They're done for, my lord." his captain called out and Stannis nodded as he watched the carnage take place in front of him.

Ships burned and masts collapsed. One or two of the Reavers on the Iron Born ships tried to board some of those who attacked them. They found that not only were the men on those ships their equal but that those men had allies too. For as soon as one ship was boarded, those who did so were then faced with three more. At what point he noticed the largest of the Iron Born ships, he knew not. Through the Myrish Eye, he looked at those on its deck and was certain that he was looking at one of the Greyjoys themselves.

As tall as any man he knew, the Greyjoy was fully armored and wore a Kraken Helm. In his hand, he bore a double-sided ax, and looking to the waters closest to him, Stannis could see that at least one ship had been sunk. Whether that ship was an Iron Born one or one of his own, he knew not. Just as he was about to give the order for ships to join him in attacking the Greyjoy, he saw the giant of a man give his own orders. It was an order for a retreat and though he wished to give chase, he knew that he had to place his faith in those he'd sent to cut off any escape.

Reluctantly he turned away from the Greyjoy and focussed his attention on his fleet and the rest of the battle. Though to name it as such was to raise it far higher than it had truly been. This was for all intents and purposes, a massacre. Stannis could see mayhap five or more of his ships that burned, were sinking, or would sail no more. Five or more, but not quite ten. Compared to the Iron Born numbers, it had been as true a victory as any had ever been won against them. Of the fifty ships that he believed had made up their numbers, less than ten now slinked off. More than twenty would never sail again and he'd wager it would be closer to thirty before the day was done. Of the others, they'd limp back to whichever port he wished them to and no more.

"A grand victory, my lord." his captain said and yet Stannis felt it not.

Five days later.

One ship was all he'd had to truly face himself. The Golden Storm had been foolish enough to dare take the Fury on and had found out to its cost just what folly that was. Aeron Greyjoy had been fished out of the sea and was now held prisoner in a makeshift cell in the bowels of Stannis' flagship. Half drowned and half-crazed, and yet the tales he told were ones that Stannis was so uncertain were true, that he sent ships to see it for themselves.

It had not been some scattered part of the Iron Fleet that Stannis had faced at Fair Isle. Instead, it had been the bulk of what remained of it. In their haste to make ready for war, their ships had sailed in a disorderly manner and it had cost them greatly. Believing themselves only to be in danger from the south, they'd given no thought at all to the north. Something that Stannis could find no fault in. Yet, the true danger to them had come from those waters and had brought with it a reckoning that they had been ill-prepared for.

Stannis had heard the words that spoke of the Northern Fleet's victories at sea, from Aeron Greyjoy at first. Then from the captains of the ships that he'd sent to find some proof of such and finally by the Lord Admiral of the Northern Fleet, Lord Wendel Manderly. More than seventy ships had fallen to the North, putting his own victory at Fair Isle completely in the shade. Other than how put out, this made the Reach lords, he'd have been even more angered than he was because of it.

"The path to the Iron Islands is truly open?" Lord Paxter Redwyne asked as they sat in his cabin.

"Lord Wendel?"

"Aye, Lord Redwyne, it is. Mine own ships have sailed close to the damnable islands themselves. Other than a few ill-equipped longships, their fleet is no more."

"Then the bulk of the fleet should make for Seagard, Lord Stannis." Lord Redwyne said.

"Word needs to be sent first, Lord Redwyne." Ser Davos interjected and Stannis saw the red-headed Lord of the Arbor glare at a man he thought beneath him.

"I've sent word to mine own Lord, Ser Davos." Wendel Manderly said as Davos nodded.

"Ser Davos, set sail at once. Bring this to the king and hand it to him yourself." Stannis said as he handed Davos a letter he'd spent much time writing.

"At once, my lord."

Stannis waited until the Onion Knight had left and waited to see if either Lord Redwyne or Lord Manderly would dare to speak out about him. Neither of the two did so. Though he'd wager that when he was back among more friendly companions than him or Wendel Manderly, Paxter Redwyne would let his true feelings out.

"Ser Davos will inform his grace. Lord Redwyne I leave it up to you to decide how to inform your liege lord. We set sail for Seagard with the tide." he said a moment later, leaving no room for doubt that the meeting was at an end.

Later as he watched the boats take the two lords back to their ships, he tried not to let his animus show. He found he misliked both men but for different reasons. Paxter Redwyne had been amongst those who'd feasted outside his walls, while Wendel Manderly had stolen what should have been his chance to shine. He did not look forward to how Robert would behave or what words he'd speak to him when next they met.

Seagard 289 AC.

Jaime Lannister.

He'd expected to be left behind. Cersei he knew, had asked for it, and had he not been Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, then she'd have gotten her way. Yet he was Lord Commander and to leave him behind while the king marched to war was not something that could be done. Not without shaming him in the process. While Robert wasn't above doing so, Jon Arryn would never stand for it and so he was finally marching to war.

Jaime may have wished for that war to be a far truer one than a fight against glorified pirates, but beggars couldn't be choosers and so he welcomed the chance to prove himself against the Greyjoys. He found he actually enjoyed the march too, or most of it anyway. Robert did his best to shame him on the road and Jaime found a somewhat surprising ally in the Blackfish who stopped it from going too far. The older knight may very well despise him and he certainly didn't respect him, but even he could only put up with so much of the king's antics.

Truly though, it was with the men that Jaime found his comfort. They looked to him to lead, guide, and help them ready for the battles to come. Even more so once they had reached Riverrun and the Blackfish had then been placed in charge of the Riverland's forces. So he drilled them daily. Jaime gave them the benefit of his training if not his experience and by the time they reached Seagard, it was to him more so than to Robert that their men looked. Something he'd not deny made him proud. As did seeing his father's army outside of Seagard itself. The West had come out in force, just as he knew it would.

"Your father's men, Ser Jaime. Will you march with them or with us?" Lord Rosby asked as he rode closer to him than he did to the king.

"I would hope with those I came with, Lord Rosby. Alas, it's the king and not I who decides such."

Marching through the town, he saw how Robert preened and puffed out his chest like a peacock rather than the Stag he claimed to be. He had no doubt that the king was a formidable warrior, to beat Rhaegar Targaryen he'd have needed to be after all. Not to mention there were many tales told of Robert's prowess on the battlefield and the men he'd killed personally. Marq Grafton at Gulltown, Myles Mooton and four other men at the Battle of the Trident, and of course Rhaegar himself. No, Jaime had no doubts about how dangerous Robert could be while wielding his war hammer. Yet still, to his eye, it seemed as if it was the things that surrounded a battle more so than the battle itself that Robert truly reveled in. Being feted, feasted, bedding some starry-eyed wench, and telling tall tales while getting as drunk as possible, all of that more than taking another man's life or challenging oneself in a true and deadly contest. It made Jaime sit that bit straighter on his horse, knowing that in this and in so much else, he and Robert Baratheon had nothing in common.

Turning his thoughts from Robert, he looked to the armies that had come out to support him and he was surprised to see just how large and well-provisioned the Northern Army was. They seemed a match for his father's in terms of numbers and equipment and he knew that would not go down well with Tywin Lannister. Before he knew it, they were through the gates of the Mallister Keep and he, the Blackfish, and Ser Mandon Moore were by the king's side as he was welcomed by Lord Jason Mallister. Jaime looked for his father and saw him along with his uncles Kevan and Gerion, a small nod of his head was then given as his own welcome.

To the left of Lord Mallister stood the Northern Lords and it was one in particular that caught his eye. The long face of the Starks was evident and Jaime wondered if Benjen Stark would be as sanctimonious as his brother had been. He was surprised by the nod of the man's head when his attention to him was noticed and despite not wishing to, he politely bowed his own head in return. Then, he, the Blackfish, and Ser Mandon escorted the king to his rooms and then to the solar for the first meeting of his war council.

A week later.

The king was a fool. He'd always known so, yet more and more as he spent time with him, it had been made clearer and clearer. His shaming of his sister was bad enough at court, to do so here was just mind-blowingly stupid. Or mayhaps arrogant was a better word. How his father kept his counsel on it, Jaime knew not. Though he'd wager there were times that Tywin Lannister imagined Robert falling in the battles to come.

As for his father, he was in a terrible mood every single time that Jaime had been in his presence. The king's actions though were not the cause of it. Instead, it was the actions of the Starks and on these, Jaime had found himself shocked and stunned on more than one occasion. Them coming to the aid of the Lord of Seagard and helping him defeat the Iron Born who attacked his city was one thing. What they had done to the Iron Born at sea, however, was quite another.

"Seventy ships, by the gods what a sight that must have been," Robert exclaimed.

"Lord Wendel Manderly is more than capable, your grace." Benjen Stark replied simply.

"That he fucking is, Seventy, did you hear that Tywin? That's a fair payment for the ships you lost is it not?"

"It is your grace. Though I find myself eager to extract an even larger one from the Iron Born before we're done." his father said, his sneer at Benjen Stark going unnoticed by the king.

"Oh, have no worries about that. I mean to crush them before I'm done. As soon as my fool of a brother opens up the seas to us….Though given what Lord Manderly has done, those seas are almost open as they are." Robert said laughing loudly.

Jaime knew full well how his father felt. It was bad enough that Benjen Stark and the North had stolen his vengeance from him, but they'd earned the king's respect in doing so. Yet it was more than that truly. They had shown up the Old Lion and his father would never accept anyone doing that, certainly not savages from the North. So it had led to growing tensions between his father's men and the men of the North. Fights had broken out, more than one man had died and when the Mountain and his men arrived, Jaime feared it would be an all-out war. Only for the news that Robert had been waiting on to finally arrive.

"We set sail by week's end. Ser Jaime, you'll lead men of the West and some of our own to Old Wyk. I'll have Stannis take Great Wyk. Ser Brynden."

"Your grace." the older knight bowed.

"The lesser island's Ser, I want each of them subdued, you and the Riverlands army should suffice."

"It'll be done as you command, your grace." the Blackfish said with a bow of his head.

"Lord Lannister, Lord Stark, you'll both join me on Pyke."

"Your grace." Benjen Stark said with a bow followed by his father saying the same thing.

Jaime knew that the men of the West and the North would not fight together. To place them so close to each other was to court disaster and yet he held his tongue. Later that night as he was readying to gather the men he'd need to take Old Wyk, he stopped by his father's rooms to find him in an even worse mood than he'd already been in.

"Bloody fool of a man. How dare he."

"Father?"

"The king is to march to Pyke itself with the Northern Army while I and the Men of the West secure the damn island. As if there was a thing on it worth securing."

He knew better than to say anything to his father in full rant and so he allowed his uncles to bear the brunt of the Old Lion's ire. Jaime only spoke again when it was suggested that he take the Mountain and his men with him to Old Wyk.

"I'll not have that monster or his ilk near me. They'll not stain my victory with their disgraceful actions."

"You'll do as I say, boy." his father angrily retorted.

"I'm in command here, father, not you. I'll decide who makes up my forces, me, no one else," he said before storming from the room.

In the end, he got his way. As the ships set sail to bring the Greyjoys to heel, the Mountain was with his father's men and not his own. It was just as well, for had he sailed with him then there was a good chance the monster would find his end on Old Wyk. A large part of him had almost wished to agree to it just for that, yet he could not. He wanted this victory to be clean and untarnished. Jaime wanted the glory and honor that he felt he deserved.

Lordsport 289 AC.

Randyll Tarly.

He was fighting alongside men he'd name as his enemies. Men of the West, Stormlands, and the North. Worst of all, he was fighting for a king that sat on a throne he didn't deserve. That was a bitter pill to swallow and yet swallow it he had. The dragons were no more, or at least they were no more for the now. The future though was unwritten and Randyll knew he was not the only one who looked to the east and saw the beginnings of a new dawn. Firstly though he and his House would need to be around for that dawn and so he accepted the insults, glares, and offhand comments aimed his way. In this, he was far better suited than his liege lord was.

Mace Tyrell was a fool. He'd known it from the first time he'd met him and nothing that the man had ever shown him in all the years since had proved him otherwise. His actions during the Rebellion had at the very least contributed to Rhaegar's fall, if not been the cause of it. While since then, he'd done all he could to ingratiate himself with the Stag who sat on the Iron Throne. It was a pointless exercise. Not only did Robert Baratheon hate the man, but he also respected him not. Even if he did, it was the Lions and not the Roses whose gold ruled the realm. Tywin Lannister and not Olenna Tyrell who was the true guiding light for all that Robert Baratheon did or would do. A man that Randyll would gut as soon as look at, let alone swear fealty to.

They were camped in Lordsport. He and the Lords of the Reach along with the Westerlands forces had been tasked with taking the port city and then the lands surrounding it. They'd done so with little trouble and yet with far more bloodshed than was necessary. Tywin Lannister had been caught by the Iron Born unawares at Lannisport and he was not a forgiving man. So just like the Sack of King's Landing, any who were unlucky enough to be in his army's path, had paid a terrible price. Be they men at arms, women, or children. Even the animals had been slaughtered just so the Lord of Casterly Rock could prove a point. It had not gone down well with some. The Lord of the North more so than any, much to Rnadyll's surprise.

"This is not warfare, it's butchery." Benjen Stark declared loudly at their meeting.

"If you've no stomach for it, Lord Stark, then leave it to those who have." Tywin retorted.

"No man of faith would have a stomach for this. Be that faith mine own or yours, Lord Lannister. This is not the work of good and true men and mine own will not be a part of it. Your grace, the Northern Army will not march with men of the West, not even in celebration." Benjen Stark said as he and his lords stormed out of the tent.

Harsh words had been spoken about the Starks and their men after their lord had left and Robert had allowed them. He'd allowed the Lannisters to ride through the city like conquering heroes and had ridden alongside them. Yet when he'd set off to march to Pyke itself, not a single man of the West was among his army. That not a single man of the Reach was either, was somewhat shameful to Randyll. Not to be left out of what was to come, but to be lumped in with men he cared not for.

For the next few days, it had been skirmishes and not battles that he had fought. There was no glory or renown for them to earn in this war. The Lannisters continued their butchery, with the Mountain and his men being the worst of them all. Rape, torture, and desecration of bodies, there were no limits to the depths that particular monster would sink to. Randyll had even at one point considered riding out with a large force of men to confront the monster amongst men. He'd heard the tales spoken of his princess' death and what had been done to Prince Aegon, and he was aware of who the tales named as the perpetrator of those acts. In the end, he'd held both his tongue and his sword. Heartsbane would not be befouled with the blood of such a man. Not yet anyway.

At night he dreamt of battles to come and of days that he may know in the future. Of a queen that had managed to not only escape, but thrive. Of her son, his prince, his king, or the king of his heart were that but a thing. When he was not dreaming, he attended meetings with his fellow Reach lords. Feasts were held by Mace Tyrell to celebrate the victories won by other men. Jaime Lannister on Old Wyk, Stannis Baratheon on Great Wyk, the Blackfish on Harlaw, Blacktyde, and Orkmont. Even for Lord Manderly at sea, the Merman who'd earned the epithet of The Northern Trident. His liege had even celebrated the things they'd done here, the things the Lannisters and their monstrosity had done.

"We showed the Iron Born that not even in Lordsport were they safe from the righteous justice they'd brought down on themselves." Mace declared loudly as he once again feasted.

Randyll turned to Mathis Rowan who had taken a seat at his table. His old friend bore an expression upon his face that he'd wager that he himself was wearing. It was one of disgust, disquiet, and one like to turn to disgrace if they lowered themselves to the Lannister's standards. Something that Mace Tyrell had the damn gall to suggest just so he could ingratiate himself even more with the Old Lion. He waited until Mathis had poured himself a drink and then finally turned his attention fully away from the High Table. Up there the conversation had turned to how Mace would take Pyke itself and Randyll found himself more than happy to not be on favorable terms with his liege and so not forced to listen to that idiocy.

"I swear it's Ashford once again, Randyll," Mathis said and it truly needed no more than that.

He'd won the day, given Robert Baratheon's forces a bloody nose in the process, and had ended up being the only man who won a victory against the soon-to-be-named Demon of the Trident. In the days, weeks, and even years that had followed that day, his victory had been somewhat stolen from him by Mace Tyrell. Oh, the truth was known well enough, it just wasn't spoken of as often as the lie that it had been Mace who won the day now was.

"Let him claim the Old Lion's butchery as his own victory all he wants. There is no glory in it and much shame."

"Truer words have not been spoken, old friend." Mathis said as he moved closer so he could whisper in his ear "You didn't attend the feast last night, so you may have missed this."

Randyll listened keenly now. He'd not attended because Tywin Lannister was the host of it and he had no wish to see his liege lord whore himself out to the man who killed their prince's family. Even had he not hated Tywin for that, he'd not have gone out of principle over what he'd done here. He may not like the Starks, but he'd give them credit for calling it out for what it was, butchery. A butchery that he wished no part of.

"Speak your words, Mathis."

"Offers of fostering and marriage, Randyll. The fat fool has overstepped his bounds and will face the seven hells when his mother hears of it."

"What fostering?" he asked curiously.

"Young Loras I believe. He seeks him to either be fostered at Casterly Rock or worse still….Named as the Kingslayer's squire."

Gripping his glass so tightly that he feared it may break, Randyll bid Mathis continue.

"As for the Golden Rose, well you can guess who he seeks a betrothal with."

"The Stag would never accept it, Mathis," he said to a nod of the other man's head.

"Indeed. The Old Lion kept his counsel too. He had Tyrell basically begging him for crumbs from his table. It was shameful to see."

"He gave no answer?" he asked and Mathis shook his head to say that he'd not "Thank the Seven for small mercies."

"Indeed."

He was about to ask Mathis if anything else occurred at the feast when his attention was taken by the guard that hurried to the High Table and handed Mace Tyrell a note. His eyes were not the only ones that looked at their liege lord as he read it, nor was he alone in wishing to know the contents of it. Thankfully he didn't have long to wait.

"The King has begun his attack on Pyke. The Greyjoys are soon to fall. Long Live the King." Mace shouted out loudly and proudly and while he repeated the words, there was no enthusiasm in his voice as he did so.

Though he was not a man who drank to excess, he somewhat did that night. Heading to his tent he was fit for nothing else but bed. So when the young boy stepped out of the shadows, it took him more than a moment to see him. That he was indeed a young boy and he was barely of a height with Randyll's waist was the only reason he didn't reach for a weapon and instead allowed him to approach. The note he was handed was taken quickly and then almost as suddenly as he'd appeared, the young boy was gone. Deciding to wait to read it until he was back at his tent, Randyll continued on his way, and once there, then and only then did he look more closely at the note in his hand. It bore no seal and very few words, yet they were enough to bring a smile to his face when he finally lay down to sleep.

Time waits for no man, but it holds its breath for dragons. Victories are fleeting and defeats can be simply retreats. The Leal shall be rewarded and those who are not will suffer for their treachery. Those lost shall be avenged, those who cost those losses will pay and the realm will be righted with Fire and Blood.

Pyke 289 AC.

Robert Baratheon.

He reveled in this. It had been what he'd been born for. Not to wear a crown or sit his arse on a throne, but to ride out and face those who dared to gainsay him. To show them and those who whispered behind his back, that to do so was folly. It was never as a king that his true talents lay, but as a warrior. Something the Iron Born and now finally the Greyjoys themselves would learn to their costs.

Robert had even managed to be political, somewhat at least. Would that Jon had been here to see it, he thought wryly. His Goodfather was a prickly cunt who had taken much issue with the North and its lord. As for Benjen Stark, his own feelings on Tywin Lannister and the lengths he'd gone to in taking Lordsport had been expressed vigorously. Both men misliked each other greatly and Robert had been told that the animus between them had been building up since Seagard. Tywin was unable to accept that the North had done what he had not, while Robert cared not a damn about who cleared the damn sea for him, as long as it was cleared.

By the time they'd reached the Iron Islands, that animus was at a boiling point and so Robert was forced to placate both sides. Tiresome and dull work that it was, he'd handled it with aplomb. Though to his dismay the pat on his back or warm look he'd get from his foster father when he'd done well, would not be something he'd known for moons. Nor ever again would he hear the welcome words that Ned would speak to him, which was a hard pill to swallow. Benjen however, seemed to be a good man and true and far more capable than he'd expected him to be, and yet he was and never would be his brother. Still, he had told him tales of his brother by choice's son, and that for now soothed some of the pain at least.

"He's far smarter than me, your grace. Studious, intelligent, and with a heart as big as any." Benjen said as they sat together at the High Table.

"It's not all studies though surely?" he asked, not wanting Ned's son to turn into a weak lord.

"Not at all. Jon shows true talent with the sword, your grace. So much so that when the chance came for him to be trained by the former First Sword of Braavos, I jumped at it."

"A Braavois?" he questioned almost angrily, knowing full well that was where the dragon bitch and her brood had named their home.

"One dismissed from service because of the Targaryens, your grace. A man who holds the same bitterness against the dragons as you and I do, as Jon does." Benjen said and Robert smiled at that.

It was good that the young lad felt as he did about the dragons. Given what they'd taken from them both, they had a lot in common. While Jon would never know his father, Ned's loss had hurt Robert just as keenly.

"You speak to him often about Ned? Young Jon knows the truth of his father?" he asked to a nod of Benjen's head "And what of his accursed mother?" he spat as he lifted his glass.

"Lady Ashara is well aware of our feelings, your grace. I'll not have the dragons nor her brother spoken of reverently under my roof. Nor have Jon's head filled with anything but the truth."

"Good thing too. For I'll not have any fill Ned's son's head with lies," he said firmly.

It comforted him to hear that his brother by choice's son was been raised right. As it had to see just how capable the North, that would one day belong to him, now was. At Seagard, he'd been told by Lord Mallister of how it was the North who'd come to his aid and helped save the city. While the news had come firstly from Benjen Stark and then from Stannis himself about what the Northern Fleet had done at sea. News that had pissed off Tywin Lannister and shamed his brother in the process. Robert found that he most enjoyed both of those things.

In truth that was the main reason that he'd wished to ride with the Lord of the North and the Northern Army rather than the Men of the West and his Goodfather. Robert wished to see them in true action and see Benjen Stark up close. To put aside his last remaining doubts about the man's loyalty and about his suitability for the role he'd given him. Thus far he'd more than proven himself both but now was the true test. Pyke would fall today, this siege would no longer hold him back and a full-on attack would win him the victory he so richly deserved.

"Your hammer, your grace." Ser Mandon said and Robert nodded to the Kingsguard knight and to his young squire.

He tried not to laugh at the struggle that the young lad was having with it. Robert was sure then that he should have picked some young Stormlands lad and not some weakling from the West.

"Give it here, lad." he shouted as he rose to his feet, the young man almost falling to the ground as he tried to lift it "Make sure you have plenty of wine and food at the ready. It's hungry and thirsty work to take a keep."

"I'll see it done, your grace."

Robert didn't take a look at himself in the looking glass. Vain he may be, but he knew exactly how he looked and so had no need to see it once again. With his antlered helm, his heavy plate armor, and the spiked Warhammer, he felt as if he was back at the Trident once more. He hoped he'd get as much satisfaction here today as he did on that one. It was a forlorn hope he knew. For there was no Dragon for him to kill today. Though he did get an image of someday doing to Viserys Targaryen what he'd done to his brother and it was one that he enjoyed greatly.

"Your grace." Lord Bryce Caron said as Robert approached the area where his commanders were lined up.

"Jon Umber, feel like dining on some fucking squid?" he called out loudly.

"Aye, your grace. I've even forgone breaking my fast so I'd still be hungry." The Greatjon replied and Robert laughed fully.

"Your grace." Benjen Stark said with a small bow of his head.

"Lord Stark," he replied slightly more stiffly. It was not because he misliked the man, more than to name him Benjen felt to him to be doing Ned a disservice somehow.

"All is set, your grace. We just await your command." Jorah Mormont said. The Lord of Bear Island was to be among those who'd lead the Vanguard along with that crazy red priest.

"The Walls are battered enough?" he asked Lord Buckler, who had been placed in charge of the catapults and trebuchets.

"They are and they will be right up until the attack itself is launched your grace."

"Good, then let's go get our dinner," he said to laughter.

Despite wishing to be amongst the thick of the fighting or to be on foot, it was a giant destrier that he made his way to. Atop a hill and some distance from the keep itself, Robert, his Kingsguard, some of the Lords of the North and Stormlands, and more than two hundred men at arms, now watched and waited. The large stones flew through the air and crashed against the walls of the Greyjoy keep. Through a Myrish Eye, Robert looked on as again and again they hit, and then raising his hand in the air, he gave the signal.

The horns blew loudly and as one, a huge force of men moved to the walls. A loud crash rang out and then cheers as the relentless barrage of stones that had been fired at them, finally made the breach. More horns blew out and then through his Myrish Eye, Robert looked on as the first of his men poured through the breach. He could make out Jorah Mormont, Jacelyn Bywater, and there leading them from the front, Thoros of Myr and his flaming sword.

"By the gods, it's fucking glorious," he exclaimed.

He waited no longer. Turning to hand the Myrish Eye to Lord Caron, he nodded and was handed the war horn. Moving it to his lips, he blew loudly, and then he, those with him, and the rest of his army which was just below the hill he was atop of, all began to charge. His war hammer was in his hands by the time he reached the fighting and he swung it as if it was an extension of his arms. One, two, three, and then a fourth Iron Born Reaver soon found their way into their Drowned God's halls at the hands of him and his hammer.

How he ended up on the ground he knew not. He was winded and around him, men raced to protect their king and yet their king needed no such protection. Arrows bounced off his heavy plate and hammer in hand, he readied to take on any fool enough to challenge him. Robert found to his great pleasure that there was more than one.

"GREYJOY. COME OUT AND FACE ME, GREYJOY!" he shouted as another Iron Born fell to his hammer.

There seemed to be no Greyjoy who was man enough to accept his challenge or mayhap he was just too far out of their hearing for them to do so. Ser Mandon arrived and took his place at his back and Lord Bryce Caron along with some of his men soon joined him. After a few moments more of fighting and then it seemed it was all done. Robert looked around for more men to kill and found few if any. He did find his squire and despite Ser Mandon's warnings, removed his helm so he could quench his thirst and feed his hunger.

"None of them would fucking dare," he told the Knight as he swallowed down the cool wine from the pouch before grabbing hold of the bread and ripping a large chunk of it. He followed that with some cheese and more wine and by the time he felt filled, the battle seemed truly to be over.

"Your grace. Lord Stark has reached the inner keep."

"Then we join him. There will be no hiding place for any fucking Greyjoy here today," he said as he put his helm back on and gripped his hammer tightly.

By the gods, it was good to do what he was best at. To fight against men who wished you dead and to deny them the chance to see that was so. It may not be the Trident and Balon Greyjoy was no Rhaegar Targaryen, but the victory was just as sweet. As Robert and those with him moved to join the Lord of the North and to take this keep for true, his thoughts soon turned to the days to come. To feasts, celebrations, to being feted, and to the women he'd bed along the way.

Maron Greyjoy.

He barely mourned his brother's passing and had little time to do so if the truth was told. While his mother wailed and his brother and sister wore long faces, Maron listened to his father's angry proclamation and made his own vow to the Drowned God. Before his time was done, he'd dine on Greenlander's blood, and should the man who'd taken his brother from the world find himself under his axe, then he'd dine on his too.

Maron knew what the failed attack on Seagard meant, yet he held faith that his uncle would hold the Greenlanders at bay for long enough for them to regroup and press their attack elsewhere. What a foolish notion that had been. When word had come that their ships had been sunk by ships from the North, his father's was not the only loud laughter heard resounding around the Great Keep. His own was just as loud, as was that of most of those who would make the next wave of their invasion force. It was not laughter that rang out anymore. For the truth had been even worse than those first reports had spoken of.

Their fleet had not just been faced and beaten. They'd been dealt what may be a fatal blow by the damnable North of all regions. Something that Maron still couldn't wrap his head around. Still, he'd believed that with the ships remaining to him, Victarion would hold back the Greenlander's forces. Another mistaken belief that the Drowned God had made fools out of him for having. While he'd put it down to his uncle not having enough ships, others spoke far darker words and it was then he'd first heard his father's plans named now as Balon's Folly. He'd liked it not.

"You dare speak of your king in such a way. Do so again and I'll have your tongue."

"Take it. for when the Greenlanders come and come they will, I'll be lucky to keep me cock, let alone me fucking life."

He'd done as he said he would, but took no comfort in that now. Not after seeing the sheer number of ships that had arrived on Pyke and how quickly Lordsport fell. Nor after seeing the true extent of the Old Lion's wrath inflicted upon men and women he'd named as friends. Maron still grimaced at the fate that had befallen poor Alana and though it was never love he'd felt for the girl, she deserved better than to be raped and murdered by men of the West.

As he stood on the walls and looked out on the two armies that besieged his family home, he took little comfort in the fact that they bore the King's own banner and the banners of the North. They may not be the Old Lion's men, but he feared they'd continue on with his butchery and he'd beseeched his father to at least send his mother and sister to safety. Not that he knew where they'd find that safety mind. Yet he'd been denied and told if he wished them safe then he was to hold the damn walls. He was to break the men of the North and the Storm against them and then to go and break the Old Lion and the men of the West too. It was far easier said than done.

Only a fool could not see they were outmatched. Bleed them yes, beat them, no, that ship had long since sailed and fools that they were, they were not aboard her when she did. As he watched the Greenlanders ready yet another attack, Maron offered a prayer to the Drowned God. He prayed for his mother and little Asha, though offered none for his father, Theon, or himself. Instead, he simply asked to be welcomed into the Drowned God's halls and to be allowed to sup at his table. Then he begged that he'd be bathed in Greenlander blood before he breathed his last.

"AHOOOOO."

"AHOOOOO."

The horns rang out and the attack began in earnest. Arrows were fired down at the men below and yet few if any found purchase. Hot oil, burning pitch, and large stones were dropped to no avail. Maron felt the pounding of the stones against their walls and though he'd never have named it possible, he was now sure that at some point they'd be breached. To his horror, he was soon proved right and so he left the walls behind and made his way to the South Tower.

As he ran, he saw a sight that would live with him for the rest of his life. Little knowing just how short that would be. A man wielding a flaming sword was first through the breach and the Northmen soon followed. Down the stairs and to the large force of men below, ax in hand and ready to face whatever fate was to be his, Maron ran as fast as he was able. More and more men came in through the breach and the chances of holding them back diminished moment by moment and yet, he still believed they'd manage it. Upon reaching the men, he readied to give them his words. Readied to give them their orders and then heard the sound of the crash behind him.

Maron never got to speak or even to exclaim loudly at what he saw. His ax never got bloody and no Greenlander would meet their ends at his hands this day or any day to come. It was no Northman, Man of the Storm, or any other man who took his life from him. No glorious final stand or fight would go down in fable. At the end, when death came to him, it came to him by a falling tower as he was crushed beneath the walls of Pyke.

Jorah Mormont.

Was he drunk?

Mad mayhaps?

Brave, Certainly.

Jorah looked at the red priest in disbelief. Thoros of Myr was the first man through the breach and though he was alone and unaided for a few moments, it was the Ironborn who now faced him that were outmatched. He looked on as Thoros and his flaming sword cut down, one, two, then three men as if they were nothing. The sound of his laughter rang out and he swore he saw him raise his wine pouch to his lips before he swung his sword once again.

"Well? What's keeping you? Do you want to live forever?" Thoros shouted loudly and then Jorah, men from Bear Island, Winterfell, Umbers from Last Hearth, and Boltons from Dreadfort. Along with men he knew not, though named as allies still, all raced through the now open walls.

In his hand, Longclaw felt light and the Valyrian steel sang as he swung it through the air. The poorly armored Reaver was no match for either he or his ancestral blade. First his sword, then the arm that held it, and finally his chest all being cut through by Longclaw's downward strike. A fool came at him wielding an ax and he too found himself to be no match for a Bear. Jorah was both reveling in the carnage and fighting for his life at the same time.

All through it, Thoros' flaming sword was never far from his sight. It shone like a beacon and led the way and so when it suddenly disappeared from view, Jorah became worried. Moving to where he'd last seen it and the madman who wielded it, he looked on in amazement as he saw the sword being used for a far different purpose now.

"This is gonna hurt," Thoros said, offering the injured man a swallow from his wine pouch.

"For Fuck's sake do it, lest I die from loss of blood."

Few things in life made Jorah worried or fearful and fewer made him turn his eyes away from the sight of them. Childbirth was one of them because it had cost him an heir and taken his wife from him. A storm at sea, because it oft brought death and destruction and was a fight that in truth you played no part in. Now, here today, he'd found another. The sight of a flaming sword being used to cauterize the wound of a man who'd lost his arm.

"AHHHHHRGGGGGG." the unknown man cried out and drank down a larger swallow from Thoros' pouch.

"There, all better now," Thoros said and Jorah looked at him incredulously.

"Give me my damn ax."

"You'll fight on?" he asked the man in disbelief.

"Aye, I owe these fuckers for me arm."

"Good man Jacelyn," Thoros said and then the red priest and his flaming sword were running into yet another fight.

The injured man was Jacelyn Bywater and when Jorah looked at his wound he was relieved to see it was not the full arm that had been lost but truly only the hand. Together they set off in the same direction as Thoros had and were soon catching up to the red priest.

"Mad fucking bastard," Jacelyn said and yet did so with a fond smile on his face, one that Jorah wore too.

Around them, the battle, if you could call it that, was almost done. Jorah could hear the loud bellow of Jon Umber and as he looked to one of the towers, he swore he caught sight of his aunt Maege and what looked to be Benjen Stark. Bidding his farewells to Jacelyn and Thoros and making sure that they were in the company of good and true men, he hurried to his liege and his kin. There was still scattered fighting going on around the courtyard. Some fierce fighting was going on along the top of the walls but though they knew it not, the Iron Born were done for.

He found Maege with Benjen Stark, Rodrik Ryswell, and Rickard Karstark among others at the large doors of the keep. Not a one of them unbloodied but not a one of them bearing an injury that seemed more than but a scratch. Archers fired at the men in the murder holes above them and Jorah heard the loud screams as those arrows hit home. Axes were being used to break down the door in front of them and it gave him a chance to catch up with his aunt and make sure she truly was unharmed.

"By the Old Gods, you're a welcome sight, nephew," Maege said happily.

"Aye, you too, aunt. All is well?"

"Well, I'm bathed in the blood of Reavers, what could be better than that?"

"Aye, Maege speaks the truth as always. 'Tis good to see you unharmed Jorah. I worried for you when you went through the breach." Benjen Stark said as he reached out to pat him on his shoulder.

"As did I. That flaming sword-wielding fucker has to be mad." Rickard Karstark japed which took them aback, as rarely was the Lord of Karhold so jovial.

"Mayhap just drunk," he said to a loud laugh from his aunt.

"Make Ready." he heard Rodrik Ryswell call out and then the door gave way as men pushed against the broken wood.

The few men who tried to stand in their way were poorly armed and skilled. They were no match for the fierce fighting men and one woman of the North who swept through them as if they were not there. Some surrendered without so much as an angry look aimed in their direction, while a few fought on and tried to make every step they took to be one that cost them blood to do so. Yet they were outnumbered and outmatched and they were not facing green boys of summer but hard fucks who knew what winter truly brought.

They found him sitting on his Seastone chair, his wife and children cowering beside him. He was unarmed and fought them not. This king who had sent other men to fight his battles for him and who now surrendered to Jorah's liege lord, like the craven he truly was.

"Maege, see that Lady Alannys and her children are taken somewhere they'll be safe. Put our men and our men alone on their door. None to see them lest you hear it from me." Benjen Stark said with an authority that belied his years.

"And him?" Rickard Karstark spat.

"I'm sure King Robert will have much to say to Lord Greyjoy, Rickard." Benjen sneered before turning to the rest of them "Best get comfortable, lads, we may be here for some time, let's see if these fucks know how to make a good ale."

Loud cheers rang out and Jorah wasn't the only one who soon stood with a mug in his hand.

"To the North and to its Lord."

"To the Stark in Winterfell."

Pyke 289 AC.

Benjen Stark.

It had not been as he'd expected. His first taste of true battle was far from glorious and the first man he'd killed truly by his own hand in a fight, had not died well. No one had told him that a man shat himself when he breathed his last and that the smell of that was not the worst smell you'd encounter on a battlefield. They'd not spoken of the chaos and the bloodlust that at times threatened to overwhelm you, nor the crippling fear that you'd feel no matter how brave you believed yourself to be.

Those things had all been experienced by him and he'd come out the other side of them a changed man. He only hoped that when he returned to Winterfell and was back in his wife and family's loving embrace, those changes would give way and allow him to become who he truly was once again. Now though, he had other things on his mind. The keep had fallen, Balon Greyjoy was their prisoner, and his wife and children were under their protection. After hearing what Tywin Lannister had allowed his men to do in Lannisport, Benjen would not allow him to do the same here. Thankfully though by the time the man actually arrived, the battle had been won and he'd earn no glory or win no spoils here today.

"The king, Lord Stark," Jory said and Benjen nodded as he left the room he'd taken for his own and made his way to the Great Hall and the Seastone Chair.

While he may have found the sight of Robert on it a far better one than he had upon seeing Balon there, he'd not lie and say he welcomed the sight either. Nor the sight of Tywin Lannister standing by the king's side. Others he welcomed a little more. He may have his own issues with Hoster Tully and his daughter, but he had few if any with the Blackfish. Benjen may hate Tywin Lannister with every fiber of his being and consider his son to be an Oathbreaking Kingslayer, and yet there was something about Ser Jaime that made him somewhat easy to like at the same time.

"Benjen, settling in well?" Robert asked as if it were his brother and not he that he spoke to.

"As well as anyone can in this keep, your grace. I'll not lie and say I wish I was at home in mine own bed though."

"You have the truth of it, Benjen. Pitiful surroundings are these indeed. Fuck, even the wine is shite." Robert said with a loud laugh.

"It's why I stick to ale, your grace," he replied to another laugh.

He knew what this was about and he again thanked the gods for Howland Reed. How he was able to find out the things he did, Benjen knew not, that he found them out, he was most grateful for. Tywin Lannister wished to take Asha Greyjoy back to the West. To have the girl first as a hostage and then as a way to bring the Iron islands under his control. While Benjen understood not why someone would want this pile of rocks, he knew full well what Tywin would do with them should he get them.

The Northern fleet had proved itself and would only grow in time. Sea Dragon Point would be ready in a few more years and between there and Bear Island, their western coast would be well protected. Yet trade was still to be the lifeblood of the North and Tywin would seek to strangle that trade. Shipments of food from the Reach would sail from Oldtown and the Arbor to one of the Western ports, mayhap in time, they'd even stop off at the Stony Shore. With Tywin ruling the Iron Islands in all but name, those shipments would be plundered, attacked, and harried all the way and it was not something he'd see come to pass. Which meant he had no choice but to do something he'd not wished to do. He only hoped that Barbrey forgave him when she found out about it.

"We must deal with the Greyjoys, Benjen. And to that end…"

"Your grace if I may?" he asked and Robert nodded and bid him continue "Both of Balon's remaining children would need be held hostage, your grace. I'd suggest they be held separately."

"A good idea, your grace," Tywin interjected.

"I suggest that the girl be given to the North, your grace while the boy is sent with your brother when he arrives."

"Your grace, I…" Tywin went to say, Benjen though had caught him by surprise and before he'd had a chance to speak to the king about it. Something that would now serve Benjen and the North well.

"A grand idea, Benjen. Grand indeed. She'll be held under pain of death, however. Hostage to her father's good behavior, not that the fucking squid will keep to his word, but…no matter."

"Should it come to it, your grace, then I'll carry the sentence out with mine own hand."

"He who swings the sword, ah, Benjen," Robert said fondly.

"Aye, your grace. Our way is the old way."

Though he hated what he now needed to do, he knew he needed to. Once he made the offer and it was accepted, which he knew it would be, there would be no going back no matter how much Tywin complained.

"Your grace, though you no doubt like me, wish to return to your home and family, I would beg you do me the honor of traveling to Winterfell. We're closer to here than to King's Landing and mine own people would wish to fete you just as much as any in the land." he said, the plastered smile on his face was one that he knew both Ashara and Barbrey would be proud of, even if they hated the words that were the reason for it."

"By the gods, that's the best fucking idea yet. It's me that would be honored though, Benjen. Long have I wished to travel back to the North to Winterfell. I could see young Jon when I was there too."

"Indeed your grace. I'm most certain that my nephew would be thrilled meeting his father's truest friend." he lied, both at Ned being Jon's father and at Jon's thrill at meeting Robert Baratheon of all people.

"Then, I most gratefully accept, Benjen. I'll even sail on your own ship if you'll have me."

"It'd be a pleasure, your grace."

He caught sight of Howland as he left the Great Hall and the smirk on his face was more than pronounced. The laugh he gave him once they were sure they were alone was a true one too. Jory too was fully aware of the mummery he'd just performed, though he at least had the good grace to make no comment about it.

"Well played, Benjen," Howland said as Benjen bid him farewell and made his way to the rooms he'd placed the Greyjoys in.

Entering the room was to see the same sight he'd seen each time he'd done so. Alannys Greyjoy was a broken woman. She'd lost two sons to Balon's Folly and she knew full well that she'd soon be losing her last two remaining children now too. He'd explained it to her somewhat and had seen how fearfully the children had looked at him when he'd done so. Asha was mayhap two and ten or three and ten, while Theon he'd wager was no more than one and ten. Though she tried to act like the brave older sister, she was clearly terrified and knowing she'd soon be parted from her brother and mother, angered too. Yet he'd just saved her from a fate that she had not deserved. So he felt it for the best if the truth of that was told to her now.

"My lady. The king has made his decision on the fate of your children." he began and saw Asha grip both her mother and brother's hands tightly "Theon is to be held hostage by Lord Stannis, the king's own brother, and will be taken to Storm's End by week's end. Asha will be coming to Winterfell with me. Both are to be held hostage to their father's future behavior, my lady. Under pain of death." he said and saw Alannys' grimace while Theon cried and Asha tried to be brave.

Looking at them, he felt it was wrong and yet necessary that they were being parted. For as much as he felt for them, his own people came first and foremost in his mind and his family even more than they.

"I give you my word that your daughter will be treated well, my lady. If her father keeps to his own then no harm will come to her. On that, you have my oath as a Stark."

Benjen turned to walk away and was at the door when Alannys spoke, her words catching him by surprise and yet not. This was her keep, she was bound to learn things just as quickly as Howland had.

"I thank you, Lord Stark."

"My lady?"

"That it's to the North and not the West that my girl is to go, you have my thanks for that."

"My lady," he said with a bow of his head.

Three days later they were ready to leave. The ships were to sail to Sea Dragon Point and then from there it was but a short march to Winterfell. Robert was bringing so many people with him that their ships were almost overflowing. What he'd expected to be a somewhat comfortable journey, was not not to be as much of one because of it. Tywin Lannister had refused to sail with them, much to his delight. Benjen had made the offer only to have it swiftly rejected and he knew that Barbrey and Ashara would both welcome that. If not so much the offer which had been accepted.

Stannis had arrived and quickly left again and Tywin had set sail and readied to organize a tourney for the following year. One that he'd have no other option but to accept traveling to. He was thankful to have the Greatjon on board, Maege and Howland too, though for different reasons. Maege had seen her nephew knighted by the king's own hand and while she'd cared not for it, she'd been more than proud of what Jorah had done during the siege. The Greatjon drank as much as Robert and kept him entertained with tall tales when Benjen had long since found his bed. While Howland ensured that news had reached Barbrey about who he traveled with.

Feeling the northern wind as it bit, the chill in the air which left the deck for Northmen and Northwomen alone, Benjen spent most of his time just staring out at the sea and waiting for the first sight of snow-covered lands to come into view. When he finally saw them, he rejoiced. For within the moon he'd be back with his family, with Barbrey, Brandon, Bethany, and Jon. He'd be back home again. He only hoped that he wasn't bringing danger to his halls in the process. He offered up a prayer to the Old Gods and then made his way to his cabin, ready for another lonely night in an empty bed, and yet he did so smiling still.

"I'll see you soon, my love."

Ashara Dayne.

She had been worried about Aemon, then even more so when they heard about Robert's desire to come to see him at Winterfell.

Though he seemed to accept the truth with more maturity than a child his age should and managed to play his part in front of his cousins, Aemon had been more reserved and withdrawn ever since the reveal of his parentage. She could see his longing looks towards the crypts and his stilted demeanor towards his aunt and herself. Ashara knew he was still struggling with the concept of her not being his mother, even though she more than once stated that he was her son in all but blood.

"Why?" he suddenly asked when she tucked him in his bed, a thing she had to do more and more these days and which showed he was not truly well.

"Why?" she repeated, confused.

"Why did you agree to be my mother? I understand my life is in danger, but why did you do it?"

"I…"

"I am glad you did, truly, Mother. But I keep wondering…"

"You were a babe, an innocent in the aftermath of the war, and it was my duty as… I had to protect you."

"Because of what happened to my brother and sister? Because I am the next you know what?" he asked frowning and she cursed herself for telling him.

"Regardless of your title, you didn't deserve to die. You still don't. And I will do all I can to protect you from whoever wishes to harm you."

"But…"

"What is it, sweetling? What is bothering you? Are you doubting my love for you?"

"No, Mother. I know you love me, but… Don't you hate me a little?"

"Why would I-"

"You are not happy here. I see the way people treat you. I hear the words some of the Lords say when they think we're not listening. And I hear you cry sometimes in your rooms…"

"Oh, Jon…"

"It is all because of me because your duty makes you say you are my mother."

"I regret nothing," she stated firmly, making the boy look at her with astonishment. "The scorn, the looks… I can withstand it and I would choose to claim to be your mother all over if I had to make the call once again. Do you know why?"

He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears as she caressed his hair softly.

"Because I love my son very much. Because my son is an incredible, sensible, and promising young boy and I am so proud to say I had a hand in raising him. Whether as the Warden of the North or you know what."

"You want me to be you know what, like grandmother, don't you?"

"I do, for this is your right, but I would only agree to this if I was completely sure you were protected at all costs."

"And what if I'm not? What if I don't want to?"

"Then I will make you sure first that you would be, and if with all that you still do not want to be it, then you will still be my son Jon, Lord of Winterfell and the best Warden the North could ever wish for."

He had smiled at her, seemingly content with her answer for that moment, and had since then never asked anymore about it.

Aemon had never been a child craving for hugs and reassurance, yet Ashara found herself giving out more of them since the news of the end of the war and the coming of the Usurper. More than once she had woken up startled by her son's cries as he rushed to her bed, fear all over his features, and that night, the one prior to Robert's arrival was no exception.

"Another nightmare?" she asked, sighing while she moved to make way for him after his little nod.

"He was going to kill me." he sniffled.

"He won't, he'll not get the chance," she stated firmly, hoping it was enough.

"What if he knows? What if he notices I'm not who he thinks I am? What if my Lord face isn't enough and I do something bad? What if he decides he wants to have my head?"

"That will not happen, Jon. Too many people here care about you. Your uncle Ben, Your aunt Bey, Ser Symon, Syrio, Nan, Wylla, everyone at Winterfell…"

"And you?"

"Me above all else, dear. And I and everyone else would sooner kill him than let him harm you in any way," she answered, making him gasp. "You are safe here, son. This I swear to you."

He snuggled against her, looking every bit a frightened boy of six namedays compared to how she and most of those who knew him saw him as every day, a much older child.

"Thank you, Mother. I feel better when I'm with you," he whispered and her heart warmed at his words.

"So you're not cross with me anymore?"

"I wasn't crossed with you in the first place. Just sad to have to sleep without Egg, that is all."

"You understand why it is necessary?"

"Aye Mother. Doesn't make it less hard," he grumbled and she kissed his forehead, chuckling. "I am scared…"

"''Tis perfectly normal to be scared, sweetling. I would be much worried if you weren't."

"Syrio says that emotions can make you die on a battlefield. That I shall need to learn how to control them."

"He is right, too. But this doesn't come easily. That is why you are training, and as far as I know, you're doing quite well for someone your age."

"But it is not enough. I still make mistakes."

"You are not perfect, Jon, nobody is. Why do you think Ser Rodrik keeps training? Syrio? Ser Symon?"

"Because they're afraid? That makes no sense. They look so fearless when they fight." her son frowned, and for a moment his expression reminded her very much of his true father.

"Looks can be deceiving. You cannot know for sure what is in a person's heart unless they tell you honestly."

He nodded absentmindedly and snuggled closer, a sign that he was close to losing his battle with tiredness and was nearing his slumber.

She found herself unable to rest, though, and later that night she walked to the Godswood after making sure her son was well guarded. Behind her, Richard stood silent, their previous conversation about Robert's arrival surely still paying out in his mind.

"You need to leave." she had pressed him.

"I will not show myself to the King."

"Too many remember you, Richard. The King, the Lannisters," she said worriedly, though he frustrated her with his reply.

"That is why I'll stay hidden."

"No. You have to leave."

"My leaving will seem suspicious to the people of the North. I will not take off my helm, nor will I spar with any of them."

"This is not enough."

"Then I will not leave my room."

"How is that not more suspicious than you being away from the keep?" she frowned. "Go to Wintertown. Stay hidden in the brothel if you need to."

"You know very well that is the first place the Usurper would visit, don't you?" he japed.

"By the Gods! Why do you keep tormenting me?" she retorted, sighing loudly to show her annoyance. "Don't you think it is hard enough for me to make sure Jon isn't threatened by only my presence. You would have me add yours too?"

"I… I'm sorry, Ash. I understand fully how anxious you are. I just… I swore to protect you. Both of you. And if you think that my presence will have the opposite effect, then I'll defer to your judgment. After all, you're the mind and I am but the muscle, am I not?" he said, his last words managing to make her smile.

She had to admit that his absence would make her more anxious, as she had over time come to see that she'd relied a lot on him to vent out her frustrations and voice her fears. Still, she had been grateful to see that he had chosen to depart the next morn to prevent Jon from being too distraught before Robert's arrival.

When she entered the Godswood, she was not surprised to find Barbrey there, sitting next to one of the pools and letting her feet dangle in it. It was one of the only places besides the Crypts where both women truly found solace.

"Rough night?" the Northern lady asked, smirking as Ashara sat unceremoniously next to her.

"Let's just say I'm not the only one who wishes the King's visit over and done with."

"Judging by how many more casks of wine and ale my fool of a husband had me order, I'm afraid it won't be a passing one. How fares Jon?"

"He is worried."

"I feared he was told too early for him to cope with it." Barbrey sighed. "I do not blame Benjen for telling him, but he is but a boy and -"

"Given the circumstances, it was the right thing to do, and were it not for Robert coming, I think Jon wouldn't be so troubled."

"He is scared of being found out isn't he?" Barbrey asked to a nod. "By the Gods, 'tis too much pressure for such a young boy! We… I… I understand why Benjen thought it appropriate to invite the king here, but… It was too early for Jon to be confronted by this"

"As much as I dislike it, I cannot fault Benjen in his reasonings. Robert wants to see his brother by choice's son, and we have danced around his summons for six years. It was bound to happen, and best it happens on Benjen's terms than on Robert's."

"Still… Damn him for putting us in this situation!" Barbrey said angrily, though were she to be asked, she'd wager it was because of worries about Jon and not anger at her husband, that her friend was so on edge.

Ashara smiled and placed her hand over hers. She knew Barbrey cared about her nephew but it was always comforting to see her express her true feelings regarding Jon. The North was so different from what Ashara had known in court or even in Dorne. While the men were renowned for their bluntness and the same could be said about the Ladies of this region, Ashara had been able to see through their behavior an unexpected tenderness for those they cared about. Barbrey was harsh when needed, as expected from the lady wife of the Warden's Regent, and Ashara and the children had more than once tasted her now true friend's tongue lashing. Yet nobody could openly say that Barbrey Stark was a cruel or heartless woman. She just was not one to publically wear her heart on her sleeve, or at least she tried not to.

"I don't know if I can do it." Barbrey declared, sighing deeply.

"Barbrey?"

"This mummery. I have an inkling of how Robert and the rest will treat you, and to think I have a part to play in it, that I have to show disdain for you when my instincts call me to defend you from anyone who will speak badly of you, as Jon's mother…"

"You will find it in yourself Barbrey. For Jon, for your family, as I will find it in myself not to gut the stag when he will stand before me. I will even curtsy if it means keeping Jon safe."

"But I…"

"I know we are long past that, at least I hope so. But I beg you on whatever kinship we found in each other, not to think of me as Ashara for the duration of the King's stay. Think of me as the sister of Lady Dayne of Starfall, the Sword of the Morning's sister, the Dornish whore who seduced a Stark. Whatever hatred you still bear for me or mine, redirect it on me."

"Ashara, I…"

"For Jon, Brandon, Bethany, and the little one here." Ashara insisted, putting her hand on the woman's stomach. "You have to protect them. I am but a casualty to that."

"To think I judged you before… I thought you were not thinking of his well-being… Only a true mother would be willing to endure as much scorn for their child as you have for Jon."

"Aye. He is my son, most of all he is that. And on this, our interests converge. As for others, only time will tell."

"For Jon, I will. But I apologize in advance if I am too harsh. I -" Barbrey said shakily, worried mayhap that her words wouldn't be accepted, which they had been, gratefully.

"I know, Barbrey. I do. You will make it up to me when the time comes to name him or her." she said, touching the swell of her friend's stomach.

"I swear on the Old Gods if you want to give my babe a Southron name, I will -"

"What is wrong with Benedict? or Beldrick?"

"Oh, please."

"Bartimus?"

"Stop it!" Barbey grumbled as she pretended to be annoyed.

They spent the rest of the night talking about babe's names, which soothed both of her worries until the time for them to bid their goodnights to each other came.

The atmosphere was tense in the courtyard when the scouts arrived to announce the upcoming arrival of the Regent and the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ashara had been, to Jon's utter disappointment, relegated to the far back of the line, so as to not be noticed by the king but so as to still ensure her son of her presence. His eyes sought her out more than once and she'd smiled reassuringly at him each time.

Orders had been given by Barbrey to the household so they went out of their way to ignore Jon's mother, as the King would not take kindly for Ashara to be integrated due to her family's stance during the Rebellion. They were orders which they reluctantly agreed to, knowing full well that their Liege would not react kindly to it. Yet they too would perform their own mummery and she swore to thank them later.

Besides Jon who already sported his Lord's face, his cousins and Aunt seemed more than eager to be reunited with Benjen.

The Lord's Regent rode on the vanguard, his tired expression lightening as soon as he saw his family, and it took every ounce of strength that Barbrey had to prevent Bethany from breaking protocol. The procession was long, the Kingsguard riding before the king, and Ashara shivered when she saw Jaime Lannister on his white horse. He had been Arthur's protegee and had then betrayed King Aerys, even though she didn't resent him for that, but she did for Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys' deaths. Anger almost got the best of her when she saw Robert, in all his kingly glory. The Stag trotted forward on his huge horse as each and everyone in the courtyard bowed and knelt to him.

"This is him, isn't it? Ned's son?" Robert said loudly to Benjen, pointing at Jon as two of his pages helped him get off the horse.

"Aye, he is, Your Grace. May I present to you Lord Jon Stark, son of my brother Eddard, and who you so graciously named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace," Jon said, eyes downcast but voice not faltering.

"None of that with me, lad. You can call me Uncle Robert." Robert said with a beaming smile on his face

"Not in public, Your Grace." Jon retorted, shaking his head and making Robert burst into laughter.

"'Tis Ned's lad, alright! Only six namedays and already as dour as his father!" Robert japed, Ashara's eyes on the exchange between her son and the man who'd killed his father, and nothing or no one else was even seen by her.

"I'm sorry, your grace, May I present to you my Aunt Barbrey and my cousins, Lord Brandon and Lady Bethany Stark?" Barbrey actually curtsied while Bran and Beth were too busy watching their father. "Forgive them for their manners, for they have been parted from their father for long and -"

"Oh, yes, yes," Robert said, waving his hand dismissively. "Reacquaint yourself with your family, Lord Stark, and then bring me to the Crypts so I can pay my respects," Robert said to Benjen.

Ashara could see Jon and the rest of the family tense.

"Your respects, your Grace?" Jon asked, frowning.

"Why, to Ned and Lyanna, of course."

"You've just arrived, Your Grace. we've also the matter to the prisoner. Surely this can wait -" Benjen tried to no avail.

"The Crypts. Now. We'll talk about politics later."

Ashara could see Benjen's reluctance to comply and Barbrey's temper rising from the way the Northern woman tensed, yet it was Jon's lordly voice that almost sent her into a frenzy and panic.

"I'll show you the way, Your Grace."

"Good lad!"

"Are you sure, Jon?" Benjen insisted.

"Aye, Uncle. You stay with your family. Come, Your Grace."

She was too stunned by her son's authoritative voice to move. All her instincts were yelling from within that this was pure folly, and judging by Benjen and Barbrey's distraught expressions, she knew she wasn't the only one feeling this way. Yet a glance at her son, who looked straight at her and gave her a reassuring smile, prevented her from following them. Ashara wouldn't have been able to go with or follow them, though. As Ser Mandon Moore and the Blackfish followed right behind the king, she was certain that none of them would let her through the crypts, nor eavesdrop on their conversation.

The only thing she could do for now was to pray to the Seven, the Old Gods, and Mother Rhoyne that everything would go well. That and congratulate Benjen on his well-deserved victory and for coming home safe and unharmed.

Winterfell 289 AC.

Robert Baratheon.

The excitement he'd felt upon seeing the large grey walls only grew once he was inside them. Robert ignored much of the welcome he'd received though, which was unusual for him. Normally he'd revel in it, but as soon as he saw the young lad, he was all he could concentrate on. It was like looking at Ned in miniature. His bearing, his looks, even his expressions were all Ned come again. When he greeted him and looked so dour and serious, Robert had felt he was looking at a specter. Young Jon was a ghost from the past and while Ned had been older and taller than his son when he'd first met him, he was taken back to those very same days as he met the boy again.

When he had wished to be taken to the crypts to pay his respects, he welcomed that it was the young lad who offered to do so. It had been this and him that he'd come here for anyway. He chuckled as they walked to the crypts, for even how he walked reminded him of Ned. As they reached the doors and the young lad told Ser Brynden and Ser Mandon they'd not be allowed inside, Robert found his eyes were only on young Jon's and no one else's.

"We are Kingsguard, Lord Stark, where the king goes we go." Mandon Moore said and though it annoyed him to hear him backtalk Ned's son, he knew he was doing his job and was keen to see how the young lad responded, to see if he had steel in those wolf bones of his.

"Only Starks may enter the crypts, Ser. They are a sacred place to me and my kin. His grace is, of course, most welcome, you and Ser Brynden however are very much not. You stay outside, or none of us enter."

Robert laughed loudly at the balls of the lad, before turning and shaking his head at Ser Mandon and Ser Brynden.

"I'm sure I've naught to fear with this brave young lad at my side, am I wrong, Jon?" he asked and Jon shook his head.

"I doubt there are many things you fear, your grace."

"Ah, true enough, lad, true enough," he said, still laughing when they entered the crypts themselves.

He felt it as soon as the door closed behind him, the chill in the air sending a shiver down his spine. Beside him, the young boy seemed to not even notice and he watched as Jon took a torch and then led him forward. They passed statue after statue, all bearing the long face of the Starks and all armed. Each of them was ready to fight even long after leaving this world and it brought a tear to his eye as he wondered if Ned too would be armed.

Jon stopped at a statue that he named as his grandfather and then another that he named as his uncle Brandon. The young lad offered a silent prayer to each of them. Then Robert felt his breath hitch as he stood in front of Ned's statue, it too was armed and he felt his tears threaten to fall. Had he not been standing with Ned's six Nameday old son, they more than likely would. Again, Jon stood silently and Robert found his eyes soon turned away from Ned and to his son. Jon's eyes were closed and another silent prayer was being offered and it pleased him much to see it so.

"He was my brother by choice, lad." he began when Jon opened his eyes "Never had a man a truer friend or truer brother than he. Would that he was here with us now. Would that I had been with him when he faced that accursed man and his accursed blade," he said and when he saw the small smirk on Jon's face, he reached down to touch his shoulder, the lad had known exactly what he'd meant by his words and had welcomed them, it made him feel good and true to see him do so.

They stood for a moment or two and then he looked to see where she was, her statue at first not being found by his searching eyes.

"Your aunt, lad, where is…"

"She's here your grace."

Jon lit a torch with his own and then she came into view. Robert lost the battle with the tears that he'd been fighting since entering the crypts. That the lad looked away from him, was welcomed as it allowed him to wipe his eyes.

"Did they have to put her here? She belongs in the light. She belongs on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her." he said sadly.

"She was a Stark and of the North, this is where she belongs," Jon said firmly.

"She belonged with me." he replied as he reached up and placed his hand on her cold stone face, "In my dreams, I kill him every night."

"It's done, your grace. The Targaryen's are gone." he heard Jon say and though he was right, he was very much wrong too, for the witch and her Dragonspawn still lived and he'd not rest until they no longer did.

"Not all of them," he said, not hearing the sharp intake of breath that Jon took.

He placed the feather in Lyanna's hand and noticed the petals from the winter roses that had fallen from it.

"Do you come and visit them often, lad? Your aunt and your father, do you come and speak to them often?" he asked softly.

"Aye, your grace. Each day."

He smiled at him and then looked at him more closely. When he grew he'd be a good-looking lad, taking more after Lyanna than her brother in that regard. It was clear even from his small stature that he spent much time in the yard and so he asked him if he did much training, happy to hear he did so each and every day. Just as he honored them in the same way.

"Aye, Ser Rodrik and Syrio both train me as much as I'm able, your grace."

"The Braavosi?" he asked, somehow not spitting when he thought of that damnable city.

"An excellent sword, your grace, and one I'm most privileged to learn from."

"Yet it should not be so, Jon, this is not a man who should teach you. It's not what your father would have wished for you. He'd…he'd wish it to be me." he said as he realized what he needed to do.

"Your grace?"

"I want you to be my squire. Come down south with me and I'll teach you how to fight in tourneys. See you earn your spurs and knight you when the time is right." he said as he looked at the young lad who seemed somewhat confused.

"Mother always says that I'm the blood of the North and we do not play as knights and squires."

"Don't you want to see the Red Keep, lad, to test your sword against the great and the good?

"I do, your grace, but I have a duty as Warden of the North."

"Your uncle is your regent and he does a bloody good job at, I may say. What about you come with me and learn how to rule with the one who taught your father? Jon would be most pleased to see his namesake, lad, and mine own son could do with an older lad to look up to.

"I do not wish to part from my family, your grace." the lad said shakily.

"You can visit them at times, Jon, and they can visit you too," he said almost in disbelief that his offer had not been readily accepted. Were it not Ned's lad that he found himself basically debating he'd have been affronted that it was not.

"Can Mother come with me?"

"Wait what?" he said, not sure he'd heard the lad right.

"Will my mother be allowed to come with me, your grace? "

"Your mother is lucky to keep her head, lad. The next time she'll set foot in my keep will be over my dead body!" he said angrily.

"Then no, sorry your grace, I'm not coming," Jon said and walked away.

He wanted to shout at the lad, to grab him and shake some sense into him, and was about to do so when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye, Ned and Lyanna both looking at him and angered though he was, he chuckled.

"He's just as fucking stubborn as you both were." he laughed as he walked from the crypts.

Later that night.

He was deep in his cups, the northern ale far better than the shite from the south. The food, the company, all but the women were better here, Robert felt. Though the serving girl he'd grabbed and had sat on his lap was an exception. They'd feted him like the conqueror he was. Sang songs of victory that though he didn't know the words of, he still joined in with. To his left, Benjen Stark sat as Ned would, and while as his brother with choice, it was at times with a disapproving look on his face, it irked him not. Instead, if anything, it made him sad. For no matter how much he drank, groped the serving girl's teats, or was feted, it couldn't make him forget that Ned wasn't here.

Each time he did, he looked for his boy. The young lad who, as was his father's wont, sat stony-faced and looked as if wished to be anywhere but here. Ned had much preferred when they ate and drank far less formally than a feast of any sort. Robert laughed now as he reminisced about one of the many so-called quiet dinners they'd shared together. With the serving girl now gone to the privy or somewhere he cared not, he raised his mug and took a large swallow of the ale. It was as he was doing so that he saw her trying to sneak out from the Great Hall.

Ashara Dayne, sister of the accursed Sword of the Morning who'd taken Ned from this world. Dragonlover and supporter, and who was the reason why Ned's son would not be taking his place by his side when he left Winterfell. Robert blamed the boy not, angered though his words had made him, he respected the lad for them too. How could he not, he was Ned's son, his brother by choice's son, which practically made him kin. In another life, another world, he would be his nephew for true too, Robert thought as he glared at the boy's mother.

"DAYNE!" he shouted loudly, stopping her in her tracks.

The Great Hall quietened and around him, every eye turned his way, none more keenly than those who sat at the High Table. Robert though was unaware of any of this as he looked at the woman who now walked toward him. Her beauty was almost enough to make him forget the gripes he held against her and her accursed brother.

"Your Grace," she said with a curtsy and he felt a stirring in his britches, one he ignored for now.

"Are you Leal, Dayne?" he began "Can you be trusted I wonder."

"Your grace, Lady Ashara has never shown any sign of disloyalty." Benjen Stark said from beside him.

"Has she not? Every breath the woman takes shows her disloyalty. That she breathes at all when your brother does not, is fucking disloyalty. Would that it had been you who'd fallen, rather than Ned. You and your murdering brother."

"Your grace," Ashara said and so concentrated on her was he, that he didn't see Jon rise to his feet, nor his aunt's arm as he held him back and had him sit down again.

"Would that you gave me even but one excuse to see that head of yours removed from your shoulders. Would that you were anyone else's mother but Ned's Lad." he said as he looked at her disdainfully "When I take your brother's head from his shoulders. When I make him pay for the life he took. You will stand in front of it and swear your allegiance once more. Should I not see the truth in your eyes that day, you'll fucking join him. Now go, begone from my sight, lest I forget who your son is."

He watched her as she walked from the Great Hall, doing his best not to focus on her figure as she did so. Once she'd gone, he returned to his memories and to his ale, grabbing a different serving girl with even bigger teats than the last one. Or maybe it was the last one, he cared not. At what point he found himself out in the cold air of the night, he couldn't tell, only that he stood there with his cock in hand and enjoyed the relief that emptying his bladder brought him. As he turned to walk back inside, he saw the light and like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to it.

The Blackfish said some words that he heard not, his attention instead focused on the window and the light that shone through it. By the gods, it was a wondrous sight, one that he drank in like the thirstiest of men. Never had he seen a body like it before and the cock he'd just put back into his britches rose in appreciation. Before he knew it he was walking to where he believed that room was rather than back into the Great Hall. All thoughts of the feast and serving girls were now gone from his mind and instead, it was the beauty in the window and the need to make her his that he concentrated on.

"Your grace, we shoul…"

"Ah piss on that, Ser Brynden." he laughed as he opened the door and stepped into the room, and walked to join the beauty in the window.

The shriek that came from her was almost as delightful as the teat he'd just grabbed. His other hand moved beneath her skirts as he tried to kiss her. He felt her moving against him and then she began to hit his chest, the blows bouncing off him with no effect. She was playing hard to get, fighting to protect her modesty, and yet he knew the truth. Robert knew that she was like all of them and wanted it just as much as he did.

"Relax Lass, it's more fun that way," he whispered seductively or what he believed to be seductive.

It was when he saw her eyes that he realized who the beauty was and it threw him enough to make him unhand her. He heard some commotion at the door and yet as Ashara Dayne fixed her clothing, he took a step towards her.

"We both know you're no fucking maiden." he chuckled "Mayhap I'll put a babe in your belly and all would be forgiven," he whispered and he swore she was about to strike him.

"Your Grace, Ashara." he heard Benjen Stark say, and then his lady wife moved past him and spoke to Ashara, Robert chuckling as he walked out the door, blissfully unaware of the looks he was given by Benjen Stark, his lady wife or Ser Brynden.

"Come the night's still young," he said to his Kingsguard as he made his way back to the feast.

Winterfell 289 AC.

Ashara Dayne.

Shock and disgust overcame her whole body. How she managed to walk to the halls, she knew not, but when she did she ran to her chamber pot and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Ashara had hated Robert Baratheon with a passion first for who he was and what he'd done, now she loathed the despicable being he had become too. The things he said to her, the things he tried to reduce her to… She was ready to bear all this for Aemon's sake but it didn't make it less hurtful.

She only realized she was sobbing loudly when she felt tiny arms trying to hold her, she couldn't turn around, she would not. For she was too overcome with shame and disappointment at herself to let her son see her at her lowest point.

"I'm so sorry, Mother," Jon said, his small voice laced with sadness. "I'm sorry, 'tis all my fault."

Shaking her head, she wanted him not to feel any guilt at that moment. Robert was the one who had humiliated her, who had made her feel she was better off dead. While Aemon was the only reason she lived, for she would have ended her life already if it weren't for him and his protection.

"I know it is… If only… I think I angered him and he took it out of you because of what I said... I should have just accepted…" he whispered, making her turn instantly.

"Accept what, Jon? What did he ask of you?"

"He… He asked me to come with him to the Red Keep and I refused." he started and her heart stopped beating for an instant.

She brought him closer, feeling that he still held onto something, as he couldn't look into her eyes, and eventually he freed himself from the burden he kept for so long.

To hear that he refused the King because of her was heartwarming as much as it was scary. Neither she nor Benjen or Barbrey had expected the Stag fool's proposal, and it was a mistake she had paid dearly for. Now her son felt guilty for something he had been right to say.

"I got frustrated because he wasn't listening to me. He kept pushing and pushing and when he said that I wouldn't be allowed to see you again, I… Not only had he wanted to keep me away from my family and from the North, but he also would forbid me to see you. I saw it in his eyes. I heard it in the way he talked."

"You did well, love."

"You're unwell because he hurt you, and he did so because of me!"

"He did so because I was his enemy. He sees me as his enemy still. It has nothing to do with you and all to do with who I am. You know he is not the only one, do you not?" she asked and he nodded. "Most of the people of the North think of me this way, except for your family. They tolerate me because I am your Mother and I have learned to live with it."

"I can hear the lords sometimes and I just wish I was old enough to order them to stop." Jon declared, anger clear in his voice. "One day I will, I swear. One day I will be of age and they will all regret the way they have treated you. Even the King."

"Oh, Jon…"

"I can hear you cry, you know? Some nights when you think I'm asleep. I know you're not happy here but you smile through your pain because you swore to protect me."

"Seeing you happy brings out my own happiness, love."

"But I am not happy, Mother. I am not because you are not. And I don't think I will ever be if we stay here." he retorted, each word feeling like a punch in her gut.

"You cannot leave the North, Jon. Your family is here and you have a duty to your people."

"But you don't. You can leave. You should leave."

"Are… Are you sending me away? Do you not want me by your side anymore?" she managed to say, stunned by the harshness of her boy's words.

"I will always want you by my side, Mother. But you are suffering here. I know you miss Starfall and your family. I heard you talk to Wylla about cousin Edric being born, about Aunt Allyria and you're missing them growing up. Mayhaps… Mayhaps it is time for you to go home?"

"Whatever you heard, I cannot leave your side. I will not leave your side," she said determinedly.

"I think… I think it would be better for both of us if you do. At least for a while? I do not wish to part from you forever, Mother. And I would also love to visit Starfall." Jon said, a pleading note in his voice, a wistful one too that she was glad to hear.

"There is no need for me to leave or for us to do so."

"They say people of the North are stubborn, but they do not hold a candle next to a Dornishwoman," he grumbled, showing his annoyance as only a boy of six would.

"Let me guess. It's your uncle's saying." she tried to smile as her heart filled with the concern he was showing for her feelings.

"No, Aunt Bey's. Will you at least think about it, Mama?"

She knew he was trying to appeal to her softer side by naming her this way, but she was not ready to go down without a fight. So she simply said that she would consider it and welcomed the hug he gave her. The tight way he held her showed her just how much he truly cared for her and it comforted her greatly.

A few weeks later.

She had put aside all thoughts of leaving and Jon had stopped even suggesting it, Ashara certain that it would be many years yet before they parted, even briefly. Fate, however, had other plans for her, and as she looked out from the window of the carriage taking her away from Winterfell, her heart was heavy with sorrow for leaving her boy. She only hoped she would be able to fulfill the promise she gave him before they parted.

"'Tis not farewell, my son. My duties may take me far away from you, but I will be by your side as soon as I can. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

"I know, Mother." he had replied, trying to keep his tears at bay. "Tell Lord Dayne I wish my aunt a full recovery, and look after Edric as you would me."

Ashara nodded with a heavy heart and then said her farewell to the Starks. The news she had received from Starfall was rather alarming. Yet it hadn't been her brother's letter that had motivated her to join the woman on her journey, but rather the messages that she had received after the king's departure.

"It seems that our time sitting idly by in the North has come to an end," Richard told her before she opened the missives addressed to her.

"I see… Judging by what the Usurper said during his stay, this could indeed become problematic," she replied.

"When does she want us to intervene?"

"There will be a tourney for the victory over the Ironborn. Probably held at Lannisport."

"You cannot go to Lannisport, Ashara. The Lannisters will watch you and Baratheon…"

"Benjen will not let me come with them either. Not after the disaster that happened at our last meeting. And I will not let myself be subjected to this man's despicable behavior either."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"I will travel before the tourney. My goodsister is unwell and my brother wants me to send Wylla back home so she can help take care of Edric. I will leave with her and I will make my move on the way there."

"Will you tell Benjen about it?"

"He may understand and dislike Robert Baratheon even more now, but he is still not ready to push his claim forward. No, Benjen shall stay in the dark else he would forbid me from leaving." she sighed.

"For days you've fought Jon who wanted you to leave. As much as it displeases me to deceive him, you should use it if his uncle starts questioning you."

She had simply nodded distractedly, focusing instead on the first part of the last message she had received.

"My Lady, we are soon to arrive." the guard who accompanied her said, pulling her out of her inner contemplation.

Ashara had thanked him simply and with a smile, hoping her inner turmoil didn't show on her face. The people she had encountered since she had left the North had watched her with more wariness than she was used to, and for a moment she had asked herself if she had done the right thing. She was once again stepping into the great game at an unfriendly place. What if she was unable to do what it took?

It is for Aemon. You're doing it for Aemon.

She took a deep breath when the carriage stopped, mustering all her inner strength to show as much confidence as she could before stepping out of it.

Ashara knew the people she was to meet had been surprised by her sudden arrival. Judging by the presence of the woman she was soon to talk to in the courtyard and by the way she was welcomed, they knew there was more to it than a simple stop to Starfall.

"Lady Dayne, I hope the journey was kind to you." Lord Mace Tyrell said as a way of greeting.

"Indeed, my Lord, and I thank you for agreeing to host me and my retinue at such short notice."

"Why, my Lady, there is no need, the mother of the Warden of the North shall always be welcomed in our keep. Though we do wonder why you chose to stop at Oldtown and then travel here when you could have just traveled on to Starfall."

"Still as sharp as I remembered, Lady Olenna." Ashara smiled, curtsying in front of the Queen of Thorns. "I do have some things to look after, on behalf of my son, before seeing my brother and family."

"At least you are straight to the point. Good." Olenna snarked.

"Mayhaps we should let Lady Dayne settle before interrogating her, Mother." Lady Alerie intervened.

"You're right. Welcome to Highgarden, Lady Ashara." Olenna said as her eyes narrowed while she looked her up and down, the interrogation itself soon to come no doubt.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Ashara speaks to the Queen of Thorns and plans and plots are put in motion. We take a look at Essos and at the lives of the Targaryen children. Robert arrives home to a hero's welcome and then he, the queen, and the rest of the realm travel to Lannisport for a tourney.

For those following my other fics, My name is Daemon and Revenge is a dish best Served Cold is up next.

Missed Reviews.

Lord Hyracith: So very glad you thought so, it just almost begged to be written given Oberyn/Mando's link.

Cadamban: Very much so. Lyanna/Rhaegar is at most the spark, the die however was long cast. The marriages and alliances between the great Houses showed moves were being made, Tywin almost married Jaime to Lysa, which would have been game, set and match. On the naming though, I thought it came into being afterward, that once Robert was crowned it then became his and that it was never actually named before then, but I could be wrong.

They'd not have gone to war over Lyanna, as much as it's claimed to be the reason. Had Brandon Stark not ridden to the Red Keep, then they'd probably not have gotten a rebellion at all. Aerys' actions and what he called for afterward led to the actual starting of it, but I do wonder who knew what about its goals during the time. For example, I don't believe until at least the Trident that Ned Stark rode to crown Robert. I'd imagine he still thought Aegon would be king. But again, I could be wrong.

Either Way, whatever name it went by early on, by the end, and certainly in its aftermath it was only known by one, Robert's. On Aerys, I think Varys whispering in his ear is the reason that he goes to Harrenhal so it could be he told him about the conspiracy, or Aerys' paranoia actually helped him out for once. Or it could be that he was having visions as some suggest in regards t the Burn Them All lines.

Chapter 7 reviews.

The Sphynx: Thanks my friend, glad you're enjoying it, the new chapter of the Jon/Ari story should be up in a week or so.

Celexys: Euron is hard to write and you feel like you need a shower after it, but to get across the crazy of him can be fun too. With Benjen the key thing for me was to show the difference between him and Ned. Ned wanted to protect Robert's claim, there can be no doubt of that in my mind. I'm not saying that he didn't love Jon or want him protected, but he wanted both, Jon safe and no claim against Robert. Benjen doesn't have any ties to Robert, so he doesn't care and it's never even a consideration. His only thought is Jon and so heading off to war, he does so knowing there is a chance he may not come back.

One thing people forget about Ned is that had he died in the Greyjoy Rebellion, then Jon was screwed. Robb and the other children had their mother, Robb would inherit WF, even should something happen to Cat, they had her family. Jon had Ned, no rights and Cat wanted him gone. Now she may not have thrown him out in the street, but with Ned gone, he was gone from WF too, yet Ned took no steps to secure Jon's future even though he was heading to war.

Daryldixonslover: Thanks so much.

Lord of Erebor: I try to do them in some sort of order, in a cycle.

Scarilla: Benjen was just young enough when he took over to know he had to listen to those who may be wiser than him, but he's grown into the role too. I do think Ned had some PTSD or something because he really does nothing to improve the North when you think about it. Even with Jon, he sort of comes up with an initial plan, claims hi, as his bastard, and then leaves it at that until he goes to the Wall. With Barb/Ash, both offer Benjen different perspectives and allow him to be more rounded as a lord. Robert is kind of like that here, he loves taking little digs at Tywin.

Isles: The Tullys were kind of less involved here, Ser Brynden was sent elsewhere, but we'll have his first pov in a bit and it'll be regarding the North. As for the North/West, that's going to be a recurring theme. With Benjen, he's growing into the role he has, and has a lot of help, so we will see him develop over the years.

Ltburtterly: Very much so, but Jon is also influenced by Egg here. His development is much quicker than a normal child, both educationally and emotionally. Each dragon egg affects each Targ differently, with Dany its dreams, we'll see it with Viserys and Maekar soon enough, but with Jon, it's almost making him grow quicker, and mature faster.

Dunk: Glad you liked it. Tywin will not be best pleased about the North as we see here, it'll be something we see more and more of as we go. I considered it with Balon, removing him, and came damn close, but my co-writer and I have too many plans with the Greyjoys and potential plot points that would need to be changed so we want the more canon route, with the addition of Asha as a hostage. I am with you though, it just makes no sense that Robert doesn't punish Balon more severely. What makes even less sense to me is that Tywin doesn't demand even more too. I mean this man never forgives a slight, it's like his key character trait. Yet he doesn't demand the heads of either Victarion who led the attack on Lannisport or Euron who was the architect behind it. It's what I call a Gerogism and ranks right up there with Hoster Tully, who is dying, somehow allowing his heir to be unwed. The man who pretty much forced his daughters onto a grieving brother and an old man who fell out with his own brother because he refused to marry the woman he'd chosen for him, yet dying, he's happy to leave Edmure unwed, really.

I'm not the biggest Euron fan, I think he's built up far too much in the books, so he's more a wreak havoc type of guy here. We'll see him from time to time and I do have an endgame in mind for him. Glad you liked the Benjen reveal, it was exactly that, he's not Ned and so he'd think differently. I also think it's another example that Ned had no intention of ever telling Jon the truth, as he could so easily have been killed while at war. We did consider putting the letter in, but kept it for this chapter, hope you liked it.

Keb: Yes, the Crow's Eye was meant to be creepy and I did wonder if it went too far, but it was a stage setter for him and means I don't need to go that far next time. I'm glad this brought it all together for you, I think it could be something to do with hitting more of the keynotes.

Spstrader: Omg, I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you're recovering well and any little brightness my stories bring you, I'm most happy about. Please rest up and do all you can to heal.

I think Ben knowing stops him from going to the Wall, I just can't imagine him doing so if he knows the truth. As for Jon learning early, I do think that's key in changing Jon's thoughts on it. I mean we saw in the show what learning late does to him. More than anything I think he needs to learn when he has certain people there to speak to about it. As angered as he may be at Ned for lying to him for example, at least if he's alive he's able to speak t him and resolve it, whereas learning after he dies allows for none of that. So on the dragon eggs, there won't be five riders at first. I won't spoil more than to say that not all the eggs will hatch at the same time. With Vis, I think as much as people may say it's already in him, the madness, it is the life he leads that brings it out. Here he has a mother, and a support system and is under no pressure to be king, so it allows a different version of him.

Creativo: Hay tantos buenos nombres para Targs, trato de usar diferentes, pero recurro a Aemon, Jaehaerys, Daeron y Daemon la mayoría de las veces. Trato de que el nombre se adapte a la personalidad que quiero y Aemon aquí se adapta. Sí, nació muerto. Theon tiene un papel interesante aquí, uno que no había visto antes, eso es todo lo que diré.

Irish Hermit: Yes he is and yes he very much will. Tywin is almost predictable in that you know how he'll react to a certain situation so he's somewhat easy to write. He'll not be best pleased about the North and he will try and use the Egg as a thing. So with Jon, Egg influences him in terms of maturity and cleverness. While Dany gets Dragon Dreams from hers and we'll see how the other eggs affect the Targs soon enough. So that helped him to deal with things somewhat.

14omega: You may be right with Jon/Ash, we did a lot of it in mentions and sort of off-screen rather than showing it. To be honest I thought that it had come across as how we wanted it to, that their closeness was a given without their having been a need to actually show it over and over or even much at all. However, it clearly didn't in your case and so I'll hold my hands up on that. Benjen is very much not like Ned, in more ways than one. As he's not just not a quiet wolf, but thanks to Barbrey and Ashara, he can play the game somewhat well.

Lord of the East; Thanks so very much.

Guest: Well a lot of what you ask for is what Rhaella will be going for. Jon will be taking a lot of influence from her as well as others, but she'll be more wishing to bring retribution than Dany ever was. As for Jon himself, we're aiming for him to embrace both sides, to be a dragon when he needs to be and a wolf too, how well that plays out is left to be seen. I agree with you about how kings made sure there was no challenge, but personal experience plays its part too. So would a Jon whose siblings faced that fate and then who rose to bring justice/vengeance to those responsible seek to do the same or be different. It's an interesting question when you really examine it.

On one hand, he'd be the epitome of what he should be worried about. A child survives and then comes back to wreak vengeance and fury on those who took down his family. On the other, he'd never wish to be compared to those who did so and would seek to be better than them. So we'll see.

Anarra: Thanks so much, really glad you enjoyed it.

Lady Octarina: So glad you're liking it. We considered putting him with Ashara, but it almost seemed too easy, and using Barbrey just opens up so many more unexplored paths. I mean we've all seen Ned/Ash done so many times that Ben/Ash would have in some ways just repeated that. Plus for as much as we wanted Benjen to be a bit of a game player, to understand the South, we wanted him to be more of the North. Robert is so not on Ben's Christmas card list, that was even before this chapter.

The marriage thing is such an easy change because it's literally there but for the grace of god. With Stannis, having him happier and content with his life is a big thing and while he'll still have some of his canon resentments, it allows for more to be done with him too. Yes, it does cause an issue with Jon later on down the line, but we don't think it's an irresolvable one. Stannis/Cersei would make Robert/Cersei seem like the marriage of the century wouldn't it lol. Same as Cat/Robert.

We actually debated long and hard about the Blackfish, my co-writer, and me. But we felt that given Cat being connected to Stannis and with Barristan leaving, it would be a logical step. Dany having Dragon dreams almost came by accident as we were trying to consider how each egg may affect each targ and we didn't want to give Jon them, plus it's a nice change to her character and we'll see how it changes her story arc even more as we go. With Rhaella, my thing with her living is that it has to be more than just having Granny or Mommy around. She needs some agency, some actual important role and here with the changes, it allows for that. She's the driving force behind most of the story here, Jon may be the Main Character, but she moves the pieces.