Myrcella

Her dream was cold and dark, just like her waking. But it was different. There were candles and torches there. A fire burned in the fireplace, and she could see within her room. It wasn't her room though. The room was so small and cramped, and she was alone. She wore a worn and faded dress with a long black cloak that was too big for her, with a hat and mittens. Outside, it was plainly night time and she could hardly see past ten feet with the snow and just how dark it really was. Figures holding torches were passing by, but she could barely see them, and Myrcella found herself wondering if the problem was just the darkness or even possibly her eyes. In the blackness, she saw a great rising structure. It seemed to almost glow a little in the darkness, reaching high into the sky. Myrcella realized that she was at the Wall, but this was a part of the Wall that she did not know. This wasn't Castle Black, which she had stayed at several times before.

She shivered quietly as she returned over to her rocking chair by the fireplace, wishing she could fall asleep again. She was huddled beneath her cloak and two blankets, but it was still so terribly cold. It was colder than she had ever felt before.

Suddenly the door opened.

"What are you-" she started to say, looking over at the door. A pair of men were there, having pushed it open without knocking or saying a word. "What's the matter with you?"

The men were silent, and instead reached to grab her. "What- Hey!" she said angrily as they took her by the arms.

Myrcella began to struggle. She tried to kick one of the men, but it only hurt her unprotected foot against his armor. She wrestled with them, trying to break free, but her efforts were ended when she heard a crack in her arm, and a strong wave of pain went over her. When she looked, she nearly fainted as she saw it was broken.

Her body went almost limp as the two men began to drag her outside. They took her through the keep, down a pair of winding staircases and past several other rooms, one of which she noticed that there were another pair of guards standing outside of, the door barred and locked from the outside. When they finally opened a door to exit the small keep they tossed her onto the ground like a ragdoll.

Immediately Myrcella began to try and crawl away. She knew in that room were the children, and she had to get to them. They needed her, and she needed them.

But then one of the men grabbed her hair and yanked it, hard enough for Myrcella to scream as he lifted her head up. The other man stepped forward, and took his mailed fist to her stomach, and then to her face. He punched her hard enough to knock out several teeth, which she spit into the snow with a mixture of blood.

Unable to form words or struggle any more they began to carry her again, dragging her out into the center of the yard. She could see more clearly now, her vision better than it ever had been before.

With dawning horror, she saw where they were bringing her. A pyre, where a ring of men were standing around it, each holding a torch, with the only person not in the circle being an undressed woman who wore only red. Even her hair and eyes were red too.

"Tie her up," the woman commanded, and the guards obeyed, dragging her forward and then carrying her onto the pyre itself, where they stood her up and began wrapping her in ropes. Myrcella was too weak to struggle, too weak to fight back as they tied their knots, holding her in place, trapping her. This was her fate, no matter what she tried.

When the men were done, they stepped off of the pyre.

Distantly, she heard a wolf howling. Grey Wind, she thought desperately, seeing the direwolves' great yellow eyes. He was straining against the kennel, trying to come out to save her, but he was trapped, just like she was, caged.

"Ahh," she cried in pain as she tried tugging against the bonds, only to find they were too thick. Nobody in the crowd seemed to be paying her any mind at all now.

"Bring the babe," one of the men said. This man was dressed better than most of the others, a knight and highborn, perhaps a leader of this group, though they all obeyed the red woman.

"Let me go!" Myrcella screamed, surprised at how well she was able to form words.

The red woman turned towards her. "It will be easier if you stop fighting, false princess. When this is done, the Lord of Light will have cleansed you, and purified your soul."

She started to sob desperately. Her bare feet were freezing on the wooden planks, and she was completely powerless.

When the men returned with the babe, all she could hear were its squalls. She didn't know who the babe was, but a part of her guessed it was one of her's. Not Melantha, but perhaps Eddard or Theo or the newborn girl who she had never met outside of dreams. It didn't take long for her to realize that it was in fact a boy though.

They tied the babe behind her on the pyre, and Myrcella felt a new wave of pain wash over her with each desperate cry. "Let us go," she demanded, but nobody seemed to hear her.

Instead, the red woman stepped forward with a torch.

"R'hllor hear us, and accept these two. We offer you these abominations, that you might cleanse their souls, and purify them in your immortal court. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

"The night is dark and full of terrors," the men echoed.

The red woman began to step forward, torch in hand, and gently put it in the pyre beneath Myrcella and the babe. Then the others began to do the same.

It was not long before the flames began to spread, slowly igniting the pyre itself, as the red woman and her followers began to sing and chant.

"Let us go!" she demanded once again, and once again she found no response.

She desperately strained against her binds, found herself looking through her pockets, hoping that she might find a knife there, but there was nothing.

In her mind, she could see a golden knight saving her. A golden knight, with the face of her father, Ser Jaime Lannister.

But then her savior's face quickly changed. It was not her father, but her children's father.

"R-Robb?" she called out desperately.

She saw the maggots crawling through him.

"N-no," she pleaded desperately. "Robb, please… Please…"

"Found you," he said, his voice inhuman and unnatural.

"Robb… This isn't you… You're not… Oh…"

The flames were now licking at her feet, suddenly changing the freezing cold into a burn. "Robb, help us, please."

He shook his head, and then he was gone.

Distantly, Myrcella met the gaze of Grey Wind, staring into the wolf's yellow eyes. "Please," she whispered. "Please." But deep within those eyes, she sensed another presence. There was Robb really, within the wolf. Help me, she thought. Help us.

I can't, another voice said within her head. It was Robb's voice.

Please, please.

We'll be together again, Robb's voice whispered in her head. Just come into Grey Wind.

Desperately, Myrcella searched through her mind, trying to find some way into the direwolf. Robb had always been able to do it so easily, but she must have only done it once or twice.

Follow my voice, Robb said. Here. Here.

The voice was sounding closer and closer. As the flames began to lick at Myrcella's clothes, she no longer felt either warm or cold. Ever so slowly it felt like she was leaving her body, and entering another, until at last she was. As the woman and the babe burned on the pyre, Myrcella Baratheon no longer found herself in any pain. She was more a wolf than man.

Here.

She woke up with a start.

"Princess," Ser Merlon said. "You were screaming."

It took her a moment to remember where she was. She was in the Crypts of Winterfell, not at the Wall. She wasn't burning, her arm wasn't broken, no mailed fist had been driven into her stomach or mouth.

"Are you all right, your grace?" Meera Reed asked.

Myrcella gave a nod, though none of them could see it in the darkness. "I had a bad dream, that's all." Her tone indicated that was all she wanted to say on the matter. "Has Lady Lyarra come yet?"

"No," it was Ser Merlon who answered. "Not yet."

Robb's grandmother had paid a visit to the crypts every morning since Myrcella came to Winterfell, paying her respects to her dead husband, son and daughter. Ever since they had been forced to flee from Winterfell, that had served as their only indicator as to the passage of time, and she had helped smuggle them at least a few things to sustain them while keeping their secret safe. And it was Lady Lyarra who was the reason they were even down there to begin with. When Robb was a boy, she had shown him a small little secret entrance into the crypts within the Wolfswood at the foot of a tree that Robb had in turn showed to her when they were exploring once. After how Theon Greyjoy had cut Eddard's face just to prove a point, Myrcella had known they needed to flee. They had to escape, finding their way to some loyal vassal of Robb's or finding somewhere in the castle that they would never be found while they waited until his loyal men retook the castle, and she, Ser Merlon and the wildling Osha had been able to devise their escape. It had been quite difficult for Myrcella to fit through the passage with her belly, but she had thankfully managed to squeeze through.

According to Lady Lyarra, Theon Greyjoy had spent an entire day hunting for them, only to return with their corpses, which were completely burned. After that, Ser Merlon and Ser Wylis had suggested they possibly try and escape, making their way through the Wolfswood to Deepwood Motte, or even trying to make their way south to Cerwyn, but her labor had soon begun putting an end to those notions.

But then when Myrcella had woken for the first time after the birth, her children were gone. Completely vanished. Melantha, Eddard, Theo and the newborn that she hadn't even named had left without a trace somehow.

Myrcella had searched the crypts, shouting for them until her voice was raw, and looking until she passed out from exhaustion. Lady Lyarra had looked around outside, and the wildling Osha had searched near their secret passage, but each had turned up nothing. They had just disappeared without a trace.

Despite all the aches and pains she was still suffering from, she would have kept searching but Ser Merlon had forbidden her and even tied her down to stop her from doing it. She hated how powerless it made her feel.

Somewhere, her children had been taken. Stolen from her. She didn't doubt they were lonely and suffering, needing their mother. All she could hope was that they were taking care of each other while she tried to find them.

A mad part of her wondered if Ser Merlon was behind all of this. If he had snuck the children out of the crypts to some Lannister spy who had been lingering at or near Winterfell so that they could take them back to King's Landing. That seemed quite absurd to Myrcella though. Why Ser Merlon wouldn't also then try to deliver her to the Lannisters, and knowing that without a wet nurse, the little one would end up dying.

Myrcella knew her family was behind this. She just didn't know how.

"Did Lady Lyarra come yet?"

"No, she hasn't," said Ser Wylis. His voice was hard and strong, but had a subtle softness to it that Myrcella had always liked. "It has been longer than it should have been. Maybe when the boys are awake we'll investigate."

"Yes," Myrcella said. Lady Lyarra had never left Winterfell since Robert's Rebellion, and even when sick or ill, she always found a way to come to the crypts. Greyjoy had not forbidden her from continuing to make her visits, which meant something must have happened. She had seemed well the last time that Myrcella had seen her, even thinking that she might possibly have a lead on where the children had been taken, or an idea as to where they went. "Yes, we should… Once the boys are up."

It didn't take long for Bran to wake at least. He began thrashing in his sleep, and Meera Reed tried gently calling to him as he slept. When finally the thrashing stopped and his breathing began to steady, it seemed he had woken.

"Bran?"Meera called out. "You were thrashing, making terrible noises. What did you see?"

"Winterfell. It was Winterfell. It was all on fire. There were horse smells, and steel, and blood. They killed everyone, Meera."

I was burning too, Myrcella thought. But they didn't kill everyone. Just me.

You're all sweaty," said Meera. "Do you need a drink?"

Bran answered without much hesitation. "A drink," he agreed. "How long was I…?"

"Too long," Jojen answered. "We were worried about you."

"I was with Summer," the crippled boy said defensively.

Like Robb was always with Grey Wind. In the crypts, Myrcella had a dream or two like that. She had been inside of Grey Wind, she had felt Robb there too, they were together as one almost, just like in that dream. Myrcella didn't want to speak about those dreams though.

"Too long," the green-eyed boy insisted. "You'll starve yourself as you sleep if you stay for too long. We gave you water and honey to sustain you while you slept, but that isn't enough."

"I ate. We ran down an elk and had to drive off a treecat that tried to steal him." Bran seemed almost proud of himself about that.

"The wolf ate," Jojen said. "Not you. Take care, Bran. Remember who you are."

"Is Osha here?" Bran asked, changing the subject. "I have to tell her what I saw."

"I'm here m'lord," the wildling woman answered, surprising Myrcella a little. "I slept some while you were sleeping too. Can't find anything in this blackness."

Let alone a set of lost children, her voice indicated.

"Osha," Bran said, his voice sounding panicked "I saw Winterfell burning."

"A dream."

"A wolf dream. I smelled it too. Nothing smells like fire, or blood."

"Whose blood?"

"Men, horses, dogs, everyone. We have to go see."

The wildling woman was not pleased. "This scrawny skin of mine's the only one I got. That squid prince catches hold o' me, they'll strip it off my back with a whip, and might be he'll find the rest of you too."

Meera spoke up. "I'll go if you're afraid," she offered. "Lady Lyarra hasn't come either… Something must have happened."

Osha gave a sigh, and wordlessly began to work. She began working to light a torch so that she could find her way to the surface, which took some time, but before long, a light could be seen. It was almost blinding just like Lady Lyarra's candles were, and the flames began to reveal everything. Rickon was sleeping at the foot of Lord Eddard's vacant tomb, right next to where Ser Wylis sat, while the Reeds were unsurprisingly sitting next to Bran who lay on the hard stone ground. Ser Merlon was by Osha though, and Myrcella began to wonder if they had been discussing something before she had woken up.

"Little enough left," Osha finally said, breaking the silence as she was looking at their store of food and water. The food was beginning to run low, even with Robb's grandmother smuggling a little down with each trip she paid. Within a few days, it was likely they would be completely out. "I'd need to go up soon to steal food in any case, or we'd be down to eating each other."

"Can I eat?" Rickon asked, with Myrcella noticing the boy had finally woken.

"Yes," Ser Wylis said quietly. He bent over and grabbed some of the food, giving it to the young princling, who ate it. Rickon normally protested eating such food, but in these conditions, it was all they had.

"Is it day or night up there?" Osha wondered.

"Day," Bran told her, "but it's dark from all the smoke."

"M'lord is certain?"

Bran's eyes seemed to change a little in the torchlight, as Myrcella watched him. For a moment he seemed to not even be there at all, and then he returned to the crypts. "Certain."

Osha gave it some thought. "I'll risk a look then. I want the lot o' you close behind. Meera, get Bran's basket."

Rickon seemed quite excited by that. "Are we going home? I want my horse. And I want applecakes and butter and honey, and Shaggy. Are we going where Shaggydog is?"

"Yes," Bran promised, "but you have to be quiet."

Myrcella watched as Meera and Ser Wylis strapped Bran's basket onto his back. Meanwhile, she managed to stand on her own, one of the few times she had been able to since the birth. Her back and legs were terribly sore from sleeping on the hard stone floor for so long, and walking still came with some difficulty, but she was glad that she had recovered at least this much.

Ser Merlon and Ser Wylis took swords from the statues, a precaution in case they needed to fight, and gave Osha and Meera swords as well. Four total, from Lord Eddard, Brandon, Lord Rickard and Lord Edwyle's tombs. The one for Lord Edwyle was badly rusted, at least fifty years old if Myrcella remembered correctly, and Lord Rickard and Brandon's blades had been there for almost twenty years, uncared for, but any sword at all made her feel safer than none.

As they set off, Myrcella felt quite nervous. If Bran was right that the castle was burning (and she suspected he was) that meant they were putting themselves in danger of being attacked by whoever was burning the castle. But another part of her wondered if whoever this was that sacked the castle might have been the one who took her children. It was that second thought that gave her strength as they made their way through the crypts.

Eventually they made it to the foot of the stairway that would take them to the main entrance, though Osha insisted she go alone, and without the torch. So they waited at the foot of the steps as she ascended into the darkness.

Some time later, the wildling finally returned. "There's something blocking the door," she announced. "I can't move it."

There was a look exchanged between Ser Wylis and Ser Merlon, and Myrcella knew both men were thinking the same thing. "We'll have to go together then," she said.

The stairs were narrow and made Myrcella feel so small. After over a moon's turn in Lord Eddard's massive tomb, it was a strange sensation. They walked up the stairs single-file, with the two knights in the lead, and Myrcella in the rear.

When they were finally at the ironwood door that marked the entrance to the crypts they stopped. She could smell smoke from outside, which made it a little more difficult to breath, and she wondered if the others could smell it too.

Ser Merlon tried on his own, but was unsuccessful. But when Ser Wylis came forward, and pushed with him, together they opened the door, exposing themselves to the world beyond the crypts for the first time in a while.

There was smoke everywhere, and as Myrcella stepped out she was instantly blinded. Despite the smoke clouds and the fact that it was already a cloudy day, the light seemed so bright.

As her eyes adjusted to the smoke, she was shocked by what she saw.

Several corpses were laying on the ground. In the Great Keep, she saw windows were broken, the stone blackened and charred. Several other buildings had collapsed or fallen and everything had been burned.

"I want to go home!" Rickon demanded loudly, which sent a new wave of pain through Myrcella.

There is no home for us anymore, she thought to herself, despairing. "Oh gods," she muttered quietly. The corpses were those of members of the Winterfell household, having been savagely butchered. Several horses were there too, and as they slowly walked from the entrance to the crypts, she found herself more and more horrified by what she was seeing.

"The castle's been sacked," Ser Wylis declared. "Greyjoy must have sacked it when he saw Ser Rodrik and his host had him beat."

"Where are they then?" Ser Merlon asked, confused. "If Greyjoy abandoned the castle and sacked it on the way, Ser Rodrik and his host would have still come to secure the ruins, wouldn't he? Where are they?"

"Maybe they wanted to stay away from the horror?" Bran suggested.

Ser Merlon shook his head. "When your brother returns, he'll want the castle secured anyway. A way to bury those feigned corpses of Greyjoy's at least, and he'll want it rebuilt. Winterfell is his seat. He can't afford to leave it a ruin."

It was always your brother or your husband or sometimes even Robb when Ser Merlon spoke. Never the king or his grace.

Jojen gave a cough, as Myrcella suddenly heard a movement. "Quiet!" Osha hissed at them. Ser Merlon and Ser Wylis both raised the swords they had taken.

Before anything else could be said though, a pair of figures emerged from behind the broken tower. One was black and the other was a very dark grey, lean and tall, the size of small horses, padding along slowly.

"Shaggy!" Rickon suddenly shouted, happily running towards the black direwolf, who started towards the boy as well.

Summer approached more slowly. The great grey wolf licked his master's hand as Bran tried to pet the wolf as best he could from Ser Wylis's back, even with the knight bending down.

Myrcella felt an insane urge to interrogate the wolves. Have you seen my children? Have you smelled them? Do you know where they are? Where they've been? Did you hear them at all? Through Grey Wind she had been able to sense their presence, perhaps Summer and Shaggy could too. Instead she remained silent.

"We should go," Jojen Reed finally said. "So much death will bring other wolves besides Summer and Shaggydog, and not all on four feet."

Osha nodded in agreement. "Aye, soon enough But we need food, and there may be some survived this."

As they made their way around the castle, the clouds in the sky slowly dissipated, revealing the sun. It must have been morning from its position in the sky, which Myrcella did not know whether to be grateful for or worried about. Even with the two direwolves as well as two knights, Osha and Meera, Myrcella didn't think they would be strong enough to face a major threat. Whoever had sacked the castle must have had a significant force.

Everywhere they looked they found more and more ruin. The walls, keeps and towers were all mostly intact, though smashed glass could be found everywhere, and anything wooden had been burned or collapsed. It wouldn't be impossible to rebuild, but it would be quite difficult, she judged.

They tried calling out in the smoke, but received no answers. There were corpses everywhere, a few of which she even recognized.

Most notable though was the Ironmen who they found as they looked. Osha knew some of their names, but they found a few of the bodies of the men who must have sacked the castle too. Dreadfort men.

Their search around the castle was interrupted though when Summer began to go towards the godswood. After a small discussion, they decided to follow the direwolf, to see what they would find there.

Thankfully, the godswood had been mostly untouched. Some of the flames had spread there, but had died out before they could burn the entire area.

Myrcella had walked the old and worn stone pathway hundreds of times, but now she found herself wondering if this might be her last. No matter what they found or who had sacked the castle, they absolutely couldn't stay there. Jojen Reed was saying something about how there was power in the wood, but all she could think of was her memories in this godswood. It was where she had her first kiss, first held Melantha, where she had been married. So much of her life had taken place in this godswood and Winterfell itself, and now it was a ruined shell.

As they walked into the clearing of the black pool and the great weirwood tree, Myrcella spotted their first corpse. Not a corpse, she quickly realized as they got closer. It was Maester Luwin, and he was still breathing.

The old maester was covered in blood. There was an awful wound in his belly, and Ser Merlon went forward to help sit the Maester up. "Bran…" he said with great effort. "Rickon…"

She stepped more into view.

"Myrcella…" she noticed he was studying her more carefully than either of the boys, taking note of how she was no longer pregnant. "Oh the gods are good… I knew… I knew…"

"You knew?" Myrcella was curious. "How? Did Lady Lyarra tell you?"

"No…" The maester's voice was full of pain. "The clothes may have fit… But the boy that was being passed as Bran… His legs… The muscles… The one passed as Melantha was shorter than my last measures. Poor things… H-how did you vanish into the woods?"

"We didn't," Myurcella answered. "There was a secret passageway that we took in the woods… Into the crypts. The wolves continued after us."

Maester Luwin nodded. "Where are the children? I see you gave birth in the crypts… Did they…"

"I don't know," she confessed, "they vanished somehow. They just went missing after I gave birth."

"How…?"

"I wish I knew." I wish I knew who had taken them. Where they had gone. She put on as strong a face as she could. "I'm going to search for them. I'll find them, wherever they are."

"Good…" the old man muttered. "I… I wish I could say I have any clues, but…"

"Lady Lyarra. She said she thought she had some clue. Do you know where she is?"

"The men that did this… They were Dreadfort men, under the command of Ramsay Snow. He and his men slaughtered Ser Rodrik's host as he attempted to retake the castle, and then betrayed Theon as well once they had access," Maester Luwin explained. "The bastard took the women back to the Dreadfort…"

"Ser Rodrik killed the bastard, didn't he?" Myrcella felt confused. "Reek, he… he…"

"He was a feigned. A clever ploy… Reek and the bastards switched places just before Ser Rodrik captured them, and Theon allowed Reek out of his cell to return to the Dreadfort." Every word Maester Luwin said was bringing him pain.

"We'll need to make a litter to carry him," Osha said.

The maester shook his head. "No use," he said softly. "I'm dying."

"You can't," Rickon declared. "No you can't."

Maester Luwin gave a sad smile. "Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can… die as I please." Then he turned over to Osha and Ser Wylis. "the princes… Robb's heirs until the children are found. Not… not together… do you hear?"

It was Osha who spoke up. "Aye. Safer apart. But where to take them? I'd thought, might be these Cerwyns…"

"No," the old man gave another shake of his head. "Cerwyn boy's dead. Ser Rodrik, Leobald Tallhart, Lady Hornwood... all slain. Deepwood fallen, Moat Cailin, soon Torrhen's Square. Ironmen on the Stony Shore. And east, the Bastard of Bolton."

"Where then?" Ser Wylis asked. "Where do we go?"

"White Harbor…. the Umbers… I do not know... war everywhere… each man against his neighbor, and winter coming… such folly, such black mad folly..." Maester Luwin took Bran's forearm, his fingers closing with a desperate strength. "You must be strong now. Strong."

"I will be," Bran said, dutifully.

"Good," the maester said, with a deal of relief in his voice. "A good boy. Your... your father's son, Bran. Now go."

Osha looked up at the weirwood tree for just a moment. "And leave you for the gods?"

"I beg..." The maester swallowed. "A,,, a drink of water, and… another boon. If you would…"

With a nod, Osha turned towards Ser Wylis and Meera. "Take the boys."

Meera, Jojen and Ser Wylis began taking Bran and Rickon away as the maester instructed, and Ser Merlon went too, but Myrcella stayed. While they were walking away, Osha gave him water, which he drank deeply and greedily even with all the pain. "Your grace," the man said once he was finished, "you should go too."

"No," Myrcella said. She wanted his advice. "Bran and Rickon will go their separate ways… But where should I go?"

Maester Luwin thought for a few moments. "You need to find your children, you said… Where do you think they went?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "We never found any trace of where they might have gone."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"One…" Myrcella said out of instinct. Even if it wasn't particularly likely, it seemed the most likely option to her. "Maybe… maybe my family had someone close to Winterfell… They somehow managed to track us to the crypts, unlike Greyjoy. And after the birth, they managed to take the children and stole them from the crypts."

"Less likely things have happened," the maester noted. "I can't imagine what else may have happened."

"W-where should I go then? Where would they have been taken."

"I would suspect White Harbor," the maester said, with a great deal of pain in his voice. "If they wanted to kidnap your children for your family's sake, then they would surely want to take them back to your family… A ship… And… if not there… Lord Wyman will be able to best help you search." Maester Luwin gave a hard cough. He had coughed up blood.

Myrcella nodded. "I'll go to White Harbor with Ser Merlon then," she decided. "We'll speak with Ser Merlon."

"You would do best to travel as… as peasants. A man and wife on their way to White Harbor, fleeing the war. The bastard… will be looking for you, and perhaps the Ironborn will be too. And if the Lannisters had men near Winterfell who were able to steal your children, there will likely be others."

"We will," Myrcella thought. One of the few things that they had found in their search of the castle that she had taken was some dye that could darken her hair. She must have suspected that she would need it for something like this.

"And the princes?" Osha asked. "Where should I take them?"

"Bran will need to travel with Ser Wylis… It will be for you to take Rickon, and care for him. Some place… some place the world would not expect."

The wildling thought for a moment. "I know just the place," she said.

"Where?" Myrcella could tell that Maester Luwin didn't fully trust Osha with a matter like this.

"The island where unicorns roam free," said Osha, "Skagos."

Maester Luwin was shocked. "Skagos?" he coughed again, "are you mad?"

"The boy with that big black wolf o' his…. He'll be a god there. The lad's a skinchanger."

The maester sighed. "It would not be my preference… Not at all," he looked down at his bloodstained robes, "but there's nought I can do to stop you either."

"Ser Wylis will decide where to take Bran," Myrcella said. "And the Reeds… They can return to their father, to tell him what happened here." Lord Howland was among the most loyal of Lord Eddard's lords. Surely he would be able to help them somehow.

Maester Luwin gave a smile. "Very good… your grace," he coughed, "You'll… You're a better queen than your mother. Don't forget that."

There's not a woman alive less suited for queenship than Cersei Lannister, she thought bitterly. But she knew that the old man meant well. "Thank you, Maester Luwin," she said instead.

The dying man looked down at his robes again, then back up at Osha and Myrcella. "I… I think it is time now," he said. "You should go now, Myrcella."

Osha turned to her and nodded. "Go now, m'lady. I'll find you and the others when it's done."

Reluctantly Myrcella rose and turned away. Lord Eddard, Jory Cassel, Ser Rodrik, Hullen, Vayon Poole, and now Maester Luwin were dead. Those who had run the castle when she had first arrived were gone. The ones who had raised her were all lost to her. It seemed like they had died with the castle to her. Died with her girlhood.

Now only Robb and her children remained to her.

Author Notes:

Honestly, I don't have a whole lot to say.

I wrote the last 1.5k words while desperately trying to distract myself from an anxiety attack, and so if the ending feels just a tad abrupt and shortened, that is probably why.

Anyways, hope you're all well, and thank you for reading.