The Pack Survives

by LordStark5

The year is 302 AC. Westeros is deep in the midst of the War of the Five Kings. One is dead, and another has seen the war turn on him so badly that he wishes he were so. Little does Robb Stark know his family is about to be the subject of a much bigger game though, with them being forced to align with unnatural powers to avoid destruction.

18. The Light of the West

The Light of the West

"By the gods," she muttered, as Maester Creylen explained the news to her. "There is no chance that you are mistaken?"

"No," the Maester said, "we saw the beacon fires lit by Feastfires burning last night. Several men have returned back with wounds from battle. Stark didn't just defeat our men at Castamere, he's taken the whole of Kayce Cape."

Joanna was stunned. "How? Daven said he wasn't going to-"

"He didn't, if the reports are to be believed," said Maester Creylen, "Stark was already there, waiting. He ambushed them."

"Did Daven survive?" Even if she was frustrated with her nephew, she hoped it wouldn't have come to this. "Is he a prisoner?"

"We don't know," said the maester.

Then I will not give up hope, she resolved. If Robb Stark had been capable of sparing Jaime, then he was certainly capable of sparing Daven. "Will Stark march against us now? Will he take Lannisport?"

"It's uncertain, my lady," Creylen answered. "Casterly Rock and Lannisport are still strong… he won't be able to cut through us like the others. He'll need a siege."

And if we're besieged, Tywin will have to liberate us. "What else do you know? Have any survivors made it back?"

"Ser Lyonel has. There's no telling what's become of Lord Terrance and Lord Garrison- we suspect that they fled to their castles. Ser Ulric Stackspear is among the dead, and Myrielle's husband, Ser Jennir…"

Oh poor Myrielle. "Have you told her yet?"

"She was there. Ser Jennir arrived here at the castle during the night, gravely wounded. I didn't wish to wake you, my lady, but he wanted to see Myrielle. He expired while she held him." The maester sighed. "Myrielle is upstairs…"

"And that is where I shall be," she told the maester as she rose out of bed.

"How long will you be with the girl?"

Joanna shook her head. It wouldn't be a question of how long she was planning, but how long Myrielle needed. "I cannot say, maester."

"I've written to your husband, my lady," Maester Creylen said, "gave him accounts of the battle from what we heard, told him what we suspect happened."

So it seems that I will have a letter of my own to write, if the girls are still sleeping. "I'll want paper, ink and wax brought to the girls' room, if you would."

"As you wish, my lady," said the maester with a bowed head.

Myrielle's bedchamber was in one of the exposed towers of the castle, just like Joanna's. As a child, she had been taught that even Queen Rhaenys had been nervous of whether dragonfire could penetrate Casterly Rock, though the truth was there were still parts of the castle that could have been easily destroyed, and the towers were among the most likely.

Myrielle was still soundly sleeping when Joanna walked in, even though something smelled bad. Her younger brother Stafford and his wife, Lady Myranda Lefford had three children together; Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle, the girl who was laying in bed. She was a young woman of nineteen years now, and still rather pretty, despite the cruelty that had been inflicted upon her in the past year. Like her older sister, she had married for love, falling in love with a gallant knight at a tourney only about three years earlier. Ser Jennir was not even a landed knight, so Tywin had been forced to give the young couple a decent tract of land and a holdfast not too far from Casterly Rock to avoid making the match a total waste. Unfortunately, all those plans were now ruined by the war.

She hoped that Myrielle's dreams were sweet. Because when she woke, she'd be met with the much more grim reality of grief. First it had been her mother, Lady Myranda, perishing of an illness just days after they'd gotten word of the Battle of the Whispering Wood and the Battle of the Green Fork. Then it had been her father, Ser Stafford, being killed during the Battle of Oxcross, in a surprise attack by the Young Wolf that shocked them all. After that, the Young Wolf had taken the Crag, where Myrielle's older sister, Cerenna, and her daughter, Sylvia Westerling, were taken captive. Now her husband was dead, and they had no word of the fate of her brother.

Poor, poor thing… Joanna thought, as she looked at the girl. Orphaned and widowed in less than a year, with a child to soon be upon her, and neither of her siblings to protect her. As a child, Myrielle had often looked to the older and bigger Daven and Cerenna for protection from anything, whether they be the monsters of her nightmares or certain stableboys that made her feel uncomfortable or anything else. Myrielle needed someone to protect her more than ever now.

Joanna knew that duty fell upon her now.

Myrielle was still young at least. She was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and very pretty too, so she wouldn't have too much trouble finding suitors despite her widowhood or child. Normally remarriage would mean giving the child up, but with how small and obscure Myrielle's husband's family was, she doubted anyone would throw a big fuss about it. In time, she'd broach the subject with Myrielle, though for now, the girl merely needed time to grieve and let her heart out.

It wasn't too long until Maester Creylen arrived, with the materials that she had asked for. Joanna soon set about writing her letter to her husband, though the words just simply wouldn't come to her. What do I even want to tell him? Plead for him to avoid as much bloodshed as possible? A report on the battles that just occurred which he probably will get even before my letter arrives? Tell him about Myrielle's widowhood? Explain to him that now we don't have an army at all to protect us? After thinking about it for a while, she gave up. She did feel the need to say something to Tywin, but she couldn't think of anything she'd want to say to him through a letter.

Ultimately, her efforts were mercifully put to bed when Myrielle finally woke up. "Auntie?" the girl called out, with a muffled cough.

Joanna found herself thinking back to the days when she had been carrying the twins, or later when she had been carrying Tyrion. Losing Tywin would have been devastating to her even when she wasn't with child of course, but especially when she was, the idea had seemed especially frightening. "Myrielle," she whispered back.

"Auntie," Myrielle said, her voice sounding weak, "did you hear about… Jen?"

"I did," Joanna nodded. For a moment she expected Myrielle to express some form of doubt or denial, like asking her if it was really true. But then she remembered that Myrielle had been there when her husband had died. "I'm so sorry, Myrie."

Her niece sniffled again, then began to cry. Pained was the best way to describe the muffled sobs. Initially, Joanna had thought of offering to take her to Lannisport, or to maybe tell her a story, or anything else that she thought might take Myrielle's mind off her grief, but then she realized that wasn't what the girl needed at all. She just needed to let out her grief.

"Come here, Myrie," she gently said, patting her lap. Even though she could have gone over to the bedside herself, she wanted her niece to at least get out of bed today.

Myrielle did come, though she kept herself wrapped up in her blanket as she walked over. When it slipped past the girl's shoulder, Joanna realized that she had fallen asleep naked.

"I… threw up last night," Myrielle managed to explain, as she stood in front of her. "I… was too tired to… put new ones on."

Joanna nodded, indicating that she understood. Likely the sleeping draft was kicking in as you were finally taken back to your room. And that would explain the smell too. "Just sit, Myrielle," she said, patting at her lap again, "right here. Right here, Myrie."

The girl let herself down a little too fast. Even though Joanna felt a bit of pain in her lap, she didn't complain as she hugged Myrielle as tightly as possible to her.

"I'm scared, auntie…"

"I would be more worried if you weren't," Joanna replied.

She sniffed. "I want… Reena to come home."

"Yes," Joanna said, nodding. They hadn't heard anything from Cerenna after the Storming of the Crag, and she wasn't sure that things were going to change now that the Young Wolf was in the field again. She brushed Myrielle's golden hair. "I bet Reena wants to come home too."

"Can we get her home?" Myrielle wondered in a weak voice.

No. "We can try." Cerenna would be bound to wherever her husband was, and if the Westerlings had gone over to the Starks as the reports claimed, then Cerenna would be practically trapped. Even in terms of hostages, Cerenna wouldn't be anywhere near as valuable as Jaime or Genna's sons or Kevan's boys or even Daven, if he was still a captive. "We'll try."

Joanna was gentle with her niece through the morning. They sat together for a while, and Joanna listened to Myrielle tell stories of the young man she had loved, which had cheered her up just a little bit. It was obvious that what Myrielle feared the most now was being left behind by all the people she loved, so Joanna made sure that she felt loved.

She took the young woman to take a bath, sat with her as she ate and took her to the sept so that she could pray after all that. Joanna might have taken her to Lannisport to perhaps find activities there which would distract Myrielle, but with the war and the state that Myrielle was in, she didn't think it was a good idea.

The council meeting took place later that night, and it was pitiful, in Joanna's eyes. Of course, Maester Creylen, Ser Benedict Broom, Ser Damon and Ser Damion were all there, as members of the Household. Ser Emmon was there too, with Ser Lyonel, who had been forbidden from riding out. With two of his three brothers and one of his nephews as captives of the Young Wolf, Genna had insisted that he stay. Everyone else who had been there not so long before had been killed or captured in the recent battles.

Ser Damon, the Castellan, started to talk first. "This is a catastrophe," he announced to all of them. "Ser Daven and Ser Forley beaten… Kayce and Feastfires taken…" He shook his head. "Luckily I did not permit Ser Daven to take a significant portion of our garrison."

Joanna spoke up then. "How many do we have?"

"A hundred," Ser Damon answered, "more than enough to hold the Rock."

"Yes…" Joanna agreed. They only needed a fifth of that to hold back any assault by land, she knew.

"Lannisport's garrison is strong enough to hold back any attacks from the Young Wolf too. We've gained forty survivors from the battle so far, but unless they are wounded, they are to be dispatched there as well," said Ser Damon. "Everywhere else… I cannot speak to the size of the garrison at the Golden Tooth which Ser Forley may have left behind."

"Why must we send all the men to Lannisport?" asked Ser Lyonel. "Might we keep them here to strengthen our own defenses?"

"Our defenses will hold," said Ser Damon, boldly. "Lannisport is larger though, and perhaps they will be able to launch sorties against the Young Wolf if he should dare to besiege it. Every man will count more there than they will here. If we're besieged, we'll have no sorties, just mouths to feed."

"Lord Tywin must be surely coming to relieve us," said Ser Emmon. "Oh, if he does not… I swear, we are doomed. The Young Wolf will…" Ser Emmon Frey was always a fearful man, and unfortunately, Joanna hadn't had the foresight to ask Genna to join them (she was watching Myrielle just now), who would have chided Emmon for that.

"Tywin is coming to relieve us," Joanna promised. And may the gods have mercy when he does. Mercy on the enemies that he channels his wrath against, and the friends who he will be most soundly disappointed by. Then she turned to Maester Creylen. "Has any who shared Ser Daven's council been recovered?"

"One of the captains, Ser Jonos Falwell," the maester nodded. "And Ser Garlan Moreland too."

"Are they well enough to speak here?" Joanna asked.

"Ser Jonos is recovering from wounds and resting know. But Ser Garlan is well."

"He'll do," she said. She remembered Ser Garlan's name as the commander of Ser Daven's outriders.

"If it would please you, my lady," Maester Creylen started to say.

"It very much would," she said, with a small smile of courtesy.

The maester left, with the sound of his chain ringing as he went, leaving Joanna now with just the five knights.

Ser Damion then spoke. "I shall kill the Young Wolf myself, I vow, if he should attempt to come this far."

"No," Joanna said. You fools keep underestimating him, and then act surprised when he turns out to be better than you expected. When will you finally learn? She wondered if Jaime had made the same mistake at the Whispering Wood. But from the stories they'd been told, it seemed as if Robb Stark had caught her son entirely by surprise in an ambush. "He's not stupid enough to dare assault the Rock."

"My lady… where else would he go?" asked Ser Damon. "Lannisport and Casterly Rock are the next castles in his path south… he'll…"

"Encircle us," Joanna guessed. "He'll take the strongholds and castles around us, or he'll strike a new path."

"Why would he not want to take the Rock?" Ser Emmon wondered. "Surely he must…"

"Surely he must not anything," Joanna said, cutting him off. "Robb Stark is preparing for my husband to come west. He's been trying to bait him to come here since the start, getting him out of the Riverlands. All the castles he takes are preparation for that. Undermanned castles that he can take with ease, so that he doesn't have to expend his men, and will prove more troublesome for my husband to wrestle back."

"To what end, my lady?" said Ser Damon.

"Aye," concurred the son. "Why would Stark want to face Lord Tywin here?"

"That… I do not know," Joanna said. "But Stark choses the battles he'll win. He won't attack us. He'll need all the strength he has." That marked the end of their brief discussion. At least until Maester Creylen had returned with Ser Garlan.

Ser Garlan was a man who Joanna had met several times before, but the most recent had been five years earlier, when he had been the captain of one of the gates at Lannisport. He'd earned a knighthood not long after, and started fighting in tourneys, which had earned him some repute, as had his experience during the Greyjoy Rebellion and Robert's Rebellion before that. He'd been a captain of Ser Stafford's host, and among the few survivors who'd escaped back to Lannisport, where he had been entrusted with command of Ser Daven's outriders. Joanna did not have much faith in the man's experience, no, but for some reason he kept moving up the ranks.

"My lady, sers," said Ser Garlan Moreland, with a slight tip of his head to each of them. "Pray, how might I serve you?"

"You were the commander of the outriders for Ser Daven. Tell me what you saw of the Young Wolf's host," Joanna instructed.

Ser Garlan shook his head. "I didn't get to see the host before the battle," he said. "None of us did, or we'd have fallen back."

Joanna was puzzled. "Ser Daven didn't send out any outriders?"

"No, my lady," Ser Garlan replied. He was only barely of noble blood, but he was nobility, so he was allowed to call her my lady instead of m'lady. "A few might've seen the wolves, but they didn't return. I thought they'd gotten lost or overextended themselves, and we didn't do much scouting beyond Castamere. We were going to settle there first, then attack."

"So… what did you see at the battle?" Joanna wondered.

"Cavalry, all of them," the commander of the outriders replied. "Couldn't get a good look at their numbers… five thousand? More?"

"How much more?" asked Ser Damion, the captain of the guard. "Might they have ten thousand? Twenty?"

"No," said Ser Garlan Moreland. "Maybe a couple thousand more at most…"

Ser Damon was aghast. "The Young Wolf means to fight Lord Tywin with less than ten thousand men?" He shook his head. "Lord Tywin had more than twenty thousand when he left the Rock, and he's not faced heavy casualties."

Stark is bold if nothing else. And perhaps the loss of Myrcella and his children is making him even more reckless than before. Joanna didn't say anything like that though. "Were their seashell banners?"

"Aye, Westerlings and Spicers both had banners in the battle," said Ser Garlan. "Saw the rest of them too, Karstark, Mormont, Manderly, Cerwyn, Ryswell, Umber…"

"Frey?" asked Ser Emmon.

Ser Garlan frowned. "Mayhaps… I don't think I saw their banners on the field."

Ser Emmon looked troubled. "My lord father in his folly sided with the rebels. There must have been Freys."

"I don't recall seeing them," Ser Garlan shrugged. "I didn't pay too much attention to the heraldry during the battle." Too busy fighting, his voice suggested.

Joanna nodded. "We know that Stark has left garrisons at every castle he's taken. Strong garrisons too." Scouts dispatched to Ashemark after Stark had continued northwest had reported that. "Perhaps Stark has more men too?" she wondered. "Another host?" Eight thousand men seemed reasonable to her for how many men the Young Wolf would have brought into the west with him, but it seemed well short of the total he would be looking to face off against her husband with. "Or maybe he means to gather more reinforcements from the Riverlands…"

"May the Seven save us then…" Ser Emmon said, with a quivering tone.

May they save us indeed, Joanna thought. There was a certain irony in all of this, with how Tywin would be coming to rescue them from the Young Wolf. Tywin had always been frustrated with their children. Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion had all proven to be disappointments to him in some way or another. When Cersei's children had been born, Tywin had hopes that perhaps one of them would fare better as an heir, but Joff was spoiled and cruel, and Tommen was too meek and timid for Tywin's liking. It was Robb Stark who was the closest thing to the perfect heir that Tywin Lannister had dreamt of- at least among their line, yet now they would be at war with each other. And it seemed like a cruel choice to have to choose between one of them to win or lose. A cruel choice… but one I already know the outcome for. Tywin was still Tywin, no matter how mighty the Young Wolf might prove to be.

"I must go," she said. She didn't know why she was so resolute on this. "I must ride for Lannisport."

"Lannisport?" asked Ser Damion. "What will you go to Lannisport for?"

"There are conversations I must have," she said. "Conversations I must have alone. I will not have an escort tailing me."

"How will you travel?" one of them asked.

"By myself," she said again. "I will ride there." She looked at them. "I will be gone for several days. On my return, I want your report on what has happened, in full. Written and in front of me. Maps detailing what castles we hold and don't, details on which captains remain to us and which are captives, how many men we have garrisoned at our nearby positions… all." She bowed her head. "Good night, sers."

I'm going mad, Joanna thought to herself, as she retreated to her bedchamber. An old woman has no business riding out alone in a war. But that was just what she meant to do.

She hadn't been entirely honest with them either. She meant to go further.

Joanna packed the necessary belongings, said her goodbyes to Myrielle and Joy, and she set off then. She rode until dawn almost, and was already well past Lannisport when she stopped to rest herself and her horse for a few hours. And after those few precious hours of sleep, she set off once more.

It took her two more days of hard riding. Luckily, Joanna could be fairly inconspicuous when she needed to be. She didn't wear clothes that gave away who she was, her once beautiful golden brow had long gone grey and white, and her face was old and wrinkled. Only her eyes had been unchanged, but those were not enough to be identified as Lady Joanna Lannister. The only thing she did carry to identify herself was the banner of peace, but she did not even fly that until she had reached the territories conquered by Robb Stark.

And it was on the edge of Kayce lands that she was finally spotted by Stark's outriders. "Halt, woman!" ordered one of them.

Joanna obeyed, with a sharp tug on her stallion's reins. Then she unfurled her white banner. "I come from the Rock," she told them. "I'm here to speak with your king."

After a nervous discussion between the two men who had stopped her, they had finally agreed, though only after they had completed their full patrol. They took her to Kayce then, and presented her to their commander, who she told something similar to, and then they sent her off to Feastfires. In total, that had added another day to her expedition.

Joanna was sore, and barely even able to ride by the time it was done, but she made herself keep going. The war had been hard on all of them, and Joanna had been sitting idly for too long.

The city of Feastfires was usually a festive one. Celebrations in the streets were quite common, and there was always a positive glow in the air. Not now though, Joanna thought as she rode in. The grey direwolf of the Starks hung from the walls and towers now, which had made the city go quiet. She did not know if they were angry, scared or sad here. Perhaps it was all of them at once. But whatever the case, the city was not its usual self.

They led her to the castle in the center of the city, which was where the seat of House Prester was located. And as she did, she took careful note of the Stark soldiers.

It seemed like she had come just before they were going to march out, as all of them seemed to be preparing. She could believe that there were a couple thousand of Stark's men here, but it looked like the rest had already departed, or never been there at all even. Then again, she was no scout.

When they finally brought her before the King, he had not recognized her at first. But he had agreed to speak privately with her (after his men had searched her to ensure she was not wearing any weapons). Then he led her into the quarters he had claimed as his own.

"Why would they have sent you from Casterly Rock?" wondered the Young Wolf.

"Why not me?" she asked. "Just because I'm an old woman doesn't mean my voice doesn't have weight there."

Robb Stark frowned. "Are you…"

"Indeed I am," she agreed.

"Why are you here, Lady Lannister?" he asked. She was surprised by how calm and settled his voice sounded. As if he had found some amount of peace after that terrible, terrible tragedy. "Are you here to offer me terms of some kind?"

Joanna shrugged. She still didn't know why she had come. But she had come anyway. "Terms… I don't think I have the authority for that." She was Tywin's wife. She'd birthed his children, ruled his court, and shared his bed. But there were some powers not even she possessed. "I wished to give you my condolences for what happened at Winterfell, to start. And I suppose, some congratulations on your new marriage?"

He looked at her skeptically. "You came all this way… for that?"

She sighed. "I tried to get my nephew Daven to listen to reason. I told him his plan to take up Castamere was folly, and that you would defeat him there." She stared into his eyes. Pretty eyes. It had been years since she last saw Robb Stark, and back then he had been just a boy. Now she could see the man he'd grown into… the man who her granddaughter had loved so dearly. "I hope perhaps you will listen to my counsel."

"Your counsel…" Robb mused. "What would that be?"

"Don't face my husband in the field of battle," she urged. "You will not be able to stand against him."

Robb shook his head. "I won't surrender to him, if that's what you think, my lady."

"I didn't say surrender," Joanna corrected. "I understand why you fight your war, Stark. You fight to avenge your father, who had no doubt uncovered Cersei's little secret, and was killed for it. I know that."

"Cersei Lannister is your daughter…" Robb said, now a little bit dumbfounded.

"And as her mother, I know her best. Even better than Jaime." Joanna sighed. "My daughter was a fool. And she had to bring her brother down with her… I'm sorry your family has gotten tangled up in this game."

She could see the conflict in Robb's mind. She was certain that he had heard kind things from Myrcella about her, yet at the same time, he had trained himself to hate all the Lannisters. Now he was sitting across from Lord Tywin Lannister's own wife and found her… sympathizing with him. "You…"

"Perhaps if I'd been a better mother, all this would have been averted," she said. "You and Myrcella could be happy together at Winterfell, your father would rule as the Hand of the King, and Cersei… Cersei wouldn't be with Jaime as she has been." Joanna had lived in regret of that for too long. "Tywin will deny it all, I know. I've never spoken to him about Jaime and Cersei's relationship, or their children, but I know he's oblivious. And if he does hear, he won't believe it to be the truth. But I'm not my husband, your grace."

Robb was still confused. "Why?" he asked. "Why would you come to me like this? Your brother died at Oxcross, and your son rots in my dungeon…"

"And you have several more nephews as captives too," Joanna nodded. "Do you expect me to hate you?"

"Yes," Robb Stark said.

"I don't," Joanna said, in a soft voice.

"Because of Myrcella?" he was still obviously confused by all of this. "Because she…"

"She wrote to me often enough. I know how much she loved you. And I know how much you loved her." She frowned slightly. "Losing her must have hurt you even worse than I. I'm old, and will be with her again eventually. All I've lost was a few years when we would have been apart. But you lost a lifetime… and your children as well."

Robb Stark said nothing. He was just too perplexed by all of this it seemed.

"I want you to live so that Myrcella will have someone to remember her. Bury her in whatever crypts you keep at Winterfell, erect some sort of shrine and statue to her… remember her. And pass stories of her on to your family," she explained. "If you've been willing to throw yourself at Lord Tywin with no regard for your own life… I beg you to not do so."

"I…" Robb Stark looked at her, with a bit of doubt in his eyes now. Something he was struggling to tell her.

"What's the matter, your grace?" she asked him.

"Can…" he still seemed to be debating if he should say it or not. "Can you keep a secret for me?"

A secret? Joanna was not sure what to make of that. "It doesn't need to be a secret that you loved your wife," she insisted. "Or… anything like that."

"No," Robb said, "it's not that."

Then what sort of secret would you be giving me? "Perhaps…"

"You need to keep it from everyone, until I have revealed it," he said. "From Lord Tywin, your family, from the people of Casterly Rock… You came here from there, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said.

"You won't go back unless you promise to keep my secret," he said.

Is it that he stopped loving Myrcella? Joanna wondered. Might he tell me of some regret? Something he wished he had done with her perhaps? Or some wish he has? "I promise," she said, now feeling almost as confused as he was.

"The day after I married Jeyne… some hooded man brought my children back. Melantha, Eddard, Theo and… Joanna. Some say it was the Stranger who did it, but… they're at the Crag still." He sighed. "Myrcella and my brothers didn't come though. Just my children."

Joanna remembered her dreams the night they got word of Myrcella's death. Of Myrcella in that cold and dark place, desperately crying out to her children. "Oh no…" she muttered. Her heart got even sadder. Is that what that was? Myrcella on the other side, thinking her children would be with her now, only to find they were missing? Is she like that still? Is she still scared and lonely? Does she know the children are back with their father? Does she wish she could have them in whatever place she is?

"I've already seen one attempt on Theo's life, and Eddard was still recovering from a bad wound when they came back," Robb explained. "Your husband was writing letters to my wife's mother, making arrangements of betrayal. She died by her own poison, but… I can't have word of my children's survival reach your husband. Not until I can know they are safe. He doesn't know they've returned to me yet, but…"

"He will not hear it from me," Joanna promised. But then she shuddered. "Please your grace… take care of them. Don't let them grow up without a father."

Robb crossed his arms. "I'll beat Lord Tywin when he gets here," he promised. "You don't need to fear for my life, my lady."

"You've never faced Lord Tywin in battle before," she insisted.

"And he's never faced me," Robb pointed out. "When I face him, I'll make sure that I'll win."

"And if you don't?" Joanna suggested.

"I won't let that happen," he replied.

Joanna felt sad then. "This is where I can no longer help you, your grace." She sighed. "Please… when you find yourself preparing to face my husband in the field of battle… remember my words. Remember that it is death to face him. For the sake of your little ones… and for remembering Myrcella."

Author Notes:

Thanks for reading!