A/N: Longclaw: Hope all are safe. We're back with another chapter, and this is a big one.

Be sure to check out my new short story "The Mystery Knight," set in the universe of Empire of Ice and Fire. After all the drama and angst of my other stories, it's a nice, fluffy aside.

BRuh4: Hello, we're back again with another chapter. There's a lot of new themes and ideas introduced in this one. Also, some other surprising things. Go ahead and prepare yourself.

Enjoy.

Chapter 34: Hunger, Death, and Broken Men

Life had been… interesting for Ser Davos Seaworth. Boring yet no less interesting, given what had happened in the last several weeks. Working at the laces of his leather vest over the homespun tunic - nothing but simplicity for the crabber's son, no matter how far he had advanced in the world - he checked out the trimmed visage in the looking glass. It was often said that one couldn't make a second first impression. Whoever said that hadn't met a red priestess.

Locked under confinement in a guest suite for over a week, only when to the satisfaction of Ser Barristan Selmy and Lord Varys that he wasn't here to assassinate the Queen was Davos allowed to leave. Inundated in talks and negotiations between himself and Daenerys - formal all, coached in diplomatic doublespeak and innuendo. Davos had been in enough negotiations to know when all but the continued protection of Jon Stark and commitment not to attack the North or Riverlands houses that had been on the field of Duskendale was still left unresolved. "Wish I had time to negotiate directly with the Dragon Queen," he muttered, but some things couldn't be helped.

A knock on the door found him greeted by the frizzy hair and composed yet a kind expression of the Lady Missandei. "Ser Davos, are you ready?"

He nodded. "As I'll ever be." The Queen had finally granted him leave to visit with Jon, and apparently she sent her translator to escort him. Two burly Dothraki behind them, they began to head across the keep towards the royal suites. "My Lady," Davos began. "Wasn't able to say this to you directly, but apologies for scarin' ya' down in the dungeons."

The translator laughed cheerily. "Water under the bridge, as you say here, Ser Davos." Truly, Missandei had put all enmity against the Hand of Daenerys' enemy when he helped bring Lord Stark back - never in her many years of service had she seen Daenerys so happy. "I do not look forward to facing you as an adversary once more."

"Me neither, and only half because of the dragons." Often he had watched the beasts fly close to the keep. It both amazed and terrified him.

"You have made a good impression on her Grace, Ser Davos." Missandei felt she had a good grasp of the Westerosi title customs… though Grey Worm still struggled much to her amusement. "I share her contention that it is a shame your paths didn't cross sooner, so as to be sworn to House Targaryen."

Loyal but not dehumanizing, Davos didn't feel the need to purge his conscience of kindness to a rival. "Perhaps in another life, it would be the dragon I serve," he smiled. "Fate brought me where I am and I accept it, but can't help but think of something better."

She nodded, looking ahead as they passed through a large hallway. "I used to think of a life where I wasn't in bondage, but such a life would not have brought me here to serve Queen Daenerys." Thinking of the moment Daenerys burned the masters in Astapor, discarding the whip and earning the loyalty of the Unsullied, it was then Missandei realized she was adjacent to greatness. "Never will I make light of the horrors of bondage, but I am grateful to the fates for putting me on a path to lead to her."

"Good way of thinkin' about it, I suppose." For the life of him, Davos couldn't imagine someone actually being thankful for bondage, rape, or other horrible acts - he figured it was the same with his mutilated fingers. "Are you sure that I won't be attacked as I leave?"

Missandei met his eyes once more. "You will carry a Letter of Marque, containing the Queen's personal orders that you aren't to be harmed by a vessel sailing under her banner on your journey back to Storm's End. After that…" She trailed off, need not say more.

Davos didn't need to hear more. "Fair enough." He stroked his beard. "Any chance the Queen would entertain a peace negotiation with Stannis? His Grace is willing to cede Dragonstone to her and recognize her conquests in the Bay of Dragons as a Targaryen sphere of influence…"

"I like you, Ser Davos," Missandei interrupted. "You are an honorable and smart man, so I believe you can answer your own question." She smiled sympathetically but knowingly.

"Couldn't hurt to ask one more time," he chuckled back.

Missandei tensed a bit though. "Ser Davos, might I be direct?"

"If you must."

"We wonder what you might say. When you return to your King."

"The truth," Davos replied plainly. "His Grace deserves to know and I keep no secrets from him."

"The full truth?"

"You cannot expect me to lie," Davos frowned.

Missandei stopped then, he did as well. Her face stayed even as she spoke next, "I had suspected you might feel that way."

Raising his eyebrows, Davos replied, "Shall you be taking me to meet the dragons, then?"

"No. As I said, I suspected as much already."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand," Davos said, shaking his head. "Is there a problem?"

Missandei smiled, and passed by him, "Not entirely." Davos was still confused but followed after her. She continued, "You see, Ser Davos, we believe the truth should have its day. Yet, word of Jon Stark's death isn't something we want all of Westeros knowing. He's back now, and no one needs to know he was gone."

"I can understand you don't want the people to know an important Lord died under your roof," Davos relented. "Still, I cannot lie to my King."

"Yes, I know. But do you think it likely that Stannis would want anyone else to know that his Lord died? Or if he did, that he returned to life with the help of the Targaryen Queen?"

Davos frowned hard, "No, perhaps not."

"We agree. So, tell your King if you must."

Eventually, they reached Jon's door - at least what he assumed was Jon's.

"Lord Stark," called out Missandei, slowly entering - hoping that she didn't find him bare-chested again… or completely bare as happened one time. She didn't complain though. The Queen has good taste. Luckily for her, his dressing down included a loose tunic. Slick with sweat from the strenuous push-ups he was performing on the floor, hard grunts echoing through the chambers. "Lord Stark."

Finally realizing someone was there, Jon looked up. Hair matted to his forehead as he leaped up - strength and agility coming back to him. "Missandei." He didn't remember her, but Jon had come reacquainted with her more than anyone but Dany and Sam. "The exercise pushes down the pain."

"I'm glad." Dany would not be happy hearing he was still in pain. "Someone's here to speak with you." At his nod, she left Davos a kind glance and stepped out of the room.

There was a moment's silence - both just staring at each other. "Do you remember me?" The older man asked, breaking the silence. "I'm Ser Davos Seaworth."

"Seems everyone is asking me that," Jon said, a bit annoyed. "Truth is, I don't remember anyone. Not fully. I have glimpses. I have flashes of things I've seen and experienced. It's muddled up as if my head is stuck in a thick fog."

"Well, then," Davos cleared this throat. "I hope it clears up."

"I do as well," Jon managed a smile. "Is there something we did together that I might remember?"

"Oh, yes," Davos laughed. "A great many things. We fought alongside one another. Well, I watched you fight and I tried not to get hit. I am Stannis' Hand. So, I was there with you along the way until you landed here."

"I see. Were you there when I was captured?"

"No, my place was with Stannis."

"Why aren't you with him now?"

Davos sighed - even with his mind broken, Jon Stark still had his wits sharp and questions biting. "I was sent to Braavos to hire the Golden Company. Also, Stannis requested I attempt to get you out of this place. Dragonstone. He wished for your return," Davos told him.

"I don't recall what sort of man Stannis was. Not fully. Yet, he was the one to legitimize me?"

"He was. I was there. Saw it with me own eyes, I did," Davos smirked, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Stannis saw an opportunity in you. You were smart to join him. The two of you did a great many things together." When Jon seemed unaware of what he spoke of, Davos continued. "You two fought those evils beyond the wall. Stannis helped you retake your home from the Boltons. As well as enabling you to avenge your brother at the Twins. Stannis trusted you completely. You were rather valuable to him. That's why he wants you back."

Jon looked up at him, shrugging skeptically. "How can you be so sure? Apparently, I lost."

Davos shook his head. "So has he. Quite badly, I might add." From smuggling onions into Storm's End to a large chunk of the Baratheon fleet - and three of his sons - at the mouth of the Blackwater came to mind. He fought to forget his losses… he needed to move forward. "I know he won't blame you, for you did as honorably and as skilled as you could have."

"I can barely remember, so I'll take your word for it."

"It's been said that most people would be better served if they did." Davos chuckled at his own jape, making Jon smirk as well. "As I mentioned, he wants you back."

"Why?"

"You're very valuable to him."

"I understand that. Yet, I don't know why," Jon said, frowning. "He sent you for me. Why? Because I add value for him?"

Davos shrugged, "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me. It's been a long time since I returned to Stannis. My place is by his side," Davos said. "I'd guess he's making preparations for the assault on King's Landing. I need to be there. You should be too. It'd be fitting for you to be with him when he takes the Throne."

"An end to a long journey," Jon said. "That I played a part of. Yet, I don't recall my involvement." He gripped his head with his left hand, skull beginning to pound.

"I know it would mean a lot to Stannis," Davos told him.

"Why should I care what he wants?" Jon snapped. "He sure left me on this island. A prisoner. I don't even have any idea how long I've been here. I…" His voice wandered off.

Davos watched the man he'd come to know, and respect, melt before his eyes. He sighed hard. Then he sat next to Jon on the bed. Wrapping an arm around the boy - an almost fatherly gesture. For Jon, his instinct told him that it wasn't something that bothered him before. "I'm not pressuring you, Jon. Seven above knows that your mind is a jumble as it is."

"Then what are you telling me, Davos?" Jon looked over at him, eyes hollow and filled with inner torment. "The only person I can seem to remember is Daenerys… I don't know what would become of me when I'm removed from that familiarity."

"I ain't askin' ya to do that, but you will never truly come back to yourself unless you take chances. It has to be your choice, though. Duty doesn't matter if you don't remember takin' the oaths." Patting Jon on the back, he stood. "Good luck, Jon Stark. I wish you all the blessings in the wars to come… just hope it'll be peacetime when we see each other again." With one last smile and a tap on the shoulder, Davos headed for the door…

"Davos," Jon called out, stilling him. "Before you go, you mentioned... some evils beyond the Wall?"

He looked back at Jon, eyes wary. "I did."

"Did they have blue eyes?"

"Aye," was his only response. He and Jon stared for the longest time before the Stark nodded, wariness taking him over as well. Davos sighed and made his exit… leaving Jon sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

In another part of the keep, hours later, Daenerys watched from the balcony as the sloop set off from its anchorage. Sails billowing, making course for Shipbreaker Bay. It carried Ser Davos Seaworth, her enemy yet also one of those responsible for saving her love. Regardless of how battered and lost he was, her Jon was nevertheless alive and Dany owed Davos his freedom for it.

She recognized the footsteps behind her. "Ñuha dāria, se vokto melne," one of her Unsullied spoke.

Looking back, Dany frowned. "Skoros nūmāzma zirȳla?"

"Ziry syt ao naejot māzigon, naejot se iēdar." Sighing, Dany followed her guard out of her chambers.

Dany followed her Dothraki as they led her through her castle. Until they reached the open air and the downward winding stone stairs. Even from a distance, she saw Melisandre waiting on the beach. The Red Woman stood out amongst the sand and waves. Why Melisandre had to speak with Dany, she didn't know. Most likely some parting words she'd have to ponder on for the preceding days.

Once Daenerys neared, she noticed a somewhat blank expression on Melisandre's face. As per usual, yet her eyes narrowed at Dany like never before. The blaring gaze nearly sent Dany backward.

Melisandre nodded her head, "Your Grace, I'm glad you decided to see me."

"I grant people what they desire if it is reasonable and within my power," Dany replied, simply. "It shocks me that you did not go with your Lord Hand."

The Red Woman didn't begrudge her for lack of amity. "He does not command me."

"His King does, for Stannis is your King as well."

"I follow the Lord of Light and his Promised Prince." Melisandre stood beside Daenerys, hands resting on the railing. "Stannis is… not that anymore. Wasn't in the first place, I was wrong." There was a terse silence. "But alas, the Lord's will seeks my absence."

"Where will you go?"

"Volantis."

This did surprise Dany, though she merely raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He does not always inform me of his will."

Melisandre was nothing but cryptic, but Daenerys didn't wish to delve deep in it. "You've certainly earned your freedom."

She smiled softly. "Returning him to the mortal realm was my honor."

"I just have one question." Dany bit her lip. "You brought him back. Do you know what happens to him now?"

"You want to know if his memory will return," Melisandre replied, nodding. "In truth, I don't know. To my limited knowledge of resurrection, yes. The person I knew of, that came back seven times, his memories returned. Yet, also he had said he left pieces of himself behind when he returns from the dead."

"So we can't know for sure?"

"You'll see."

Dany huffed, looking away from her. "He's even more confusing now than he was before he came back. Before, he was easy to read. I knew what he wanted and what he thought because he wore it on his face or just told me over and over again."

Melisandre replied calmly, "There is something about Jon Stark… I saw it when he was simply Jon Snow, a common bastard and ranger at the Wall." Her gaze was pointed to the sea, but she spoke without falter. "He is destined to be the Prince that was Promised… or at least part of that destiny." Her eyes swiveled back to Daenerys. "As do you."

Dany blinked. "Me?"

A nod from the Red Woman. "Aye, you." Melisandre chuckled softly. "Oddly, the original High Valyrian of the prophecy contains a word that doesn't specify the sex… or the number. Prince or Princess or Princes or Princesses… all could be true at once." She sighed. "The Lord sends me premonitions… snapshots of what he wishes me to discover. I must piece them together, and yet often the visions are vague."

"You thought Stannis was the Prince that was Promised," Daenerys frowned. Of this piece of information, Varys never wavered. "Why should I believe you now?"

The gaze of the woman did not falter. "I saw a figure in the flames… no face initially. Just a form holding a flaming sword in the snow. Stannis, I deduced it was him due to the strength of his blood, but it was Jon's face in the flames." She paused, looking deep into Daenerys' eyes. "His is a great destiny, intertwined with yours. And you have chosen that fate by accepting him as your man."

"My man?" While that sounded like a dream for Daenerys, they were nowhere close to that.

"You've grown close with him."

"Perhaps. More that, I've grown used to him." A ghost of a smile teased on Dany's lips.

Melisandre nodded. "Interesting. You don't know how he feels."

"No. Not completely." With his injuries, perhaps she'd never know.

"His mind is broken," the Red Witch replied, a tinge of sympathy in her voice. "There are things he doesn't remember, some things that will never return to him. However, there's one thing... or shall I say, a person that never left him and never will. So important to him that they were the lone thing on his brain before it all caved in."

Dany trembled a bit, pondering her words. "How could you know that?"

"You'd be surprised what I know," Melisandre smiled. "My Lord gives me all the knowledge he desires." She stepped a might closer, "I know your feelings as well, Daenerys. You wonder if your own desires are reciprocated."

"Are they?" Dany asked, a bit breathless. Then chiding herself for being so childish. Jon Stark's grip on her felt invisible most days. Nonetheless, it permeated her every step.

Melisandre backed up then until the waves brushed against her robe as they washed in. Her only reply before stepping into the skiff:

"Ask him."

Pulling back from peeking around the corner of the weathered stone wall, Jaime trotted back towards the Lannister van twenty meters away. Sure enough, Cersei was disembarking the ornate wheelhouse that only she would travel in. "Is he there?"

Jaime helped her down with his good hand, kissing her cheek - there was no propriety needed anymore. Within their ranks, no one could overpower them… at least not with the Mountain standing right behind Cersei, his massive bulk ready to crush all that spoke ill. "He is. Arranged the dias and everything."

Casting her brother a wry grin, Cersei's eyes twinkled with sarcastic mirth. "I honestly never expected for him to show. Perhaps sending that onion fellow always following him around."

"Lord Davos Seaworth is absent, your Grace," Qyburn corrected - one of the few afforded the privilege. "Lord Stannis will be his own chief counsel."

Her smile grew even wider. "All the better, let us treat with my goodbrother." Alongside her brother and surrounded by the finest of her Queensguard and Household Guard, Cersei began her arrival.

The small keep was put to the torch years ago during Robert's Rebellion, one of the many stubborn Targaryen loyalists willing to die rather than go to the Wall. Tywin's men had obliged all of them, but while most ended up being granted to Baratheon and Lannister loyalists… this one was left to ruin. Sitting just off the final part of the Kingsroad thirty miles south of King's Landing, it was the perfect place to hold a parlay. Given Cersei's… lack of punctuality - both accidental and intentional reasons possible - it was the Baratheons that arrived first and set up the raised wooden dias for the two parties to meet.

Stannis and his advisors sat, waiting. He watched with narrow eyes as he spotted Cersei. The gold and gilt of House Lannister disgusting him, only broken by the all-black Queensguard. "Even now she has horrible taste," Selyse muttered beside him.

"Your Grace…" It was Edric Storm, Robert's bastard, and Stannis' new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He bore his father's brashness and zeal for a good fight, but had inherited a shrewdness from the Florent side - he was Selyse's nephew by her sister, Robert's mistress. It made him… a good sword to have by one's side. "I say we kill them now, end the war here."

Shireen heard that from her perch behind her father and mother. "No, they are being given guest rights." Sure enough, a Baratheon guardsman was offering Jaime bread and salt to give to his sister. As a compromise, while only mere miles from King's Landing, the keep was officially in the Storm Kingdom. "To do so would be an affront to the gods…"

"Quiet," Stannis hissed. "Do you want all of Lannisport to hear you?" Usually never raising his voice at her, Shireen stopped talking. Quieting down. "No. We will proceed with Baelish's parlay, even if it is a farce…" With guest right given, the Lannisters made their way to the prepared seating. Cersei sat first, her retinue after her and guards placed right behind. Perhaps she'll show me a weakness.

"Well," Cersei began, a tiny smile on her face that looked more like a grimace, and her hands folded in her lap. Atop her head was a gleaming crown of gold, one as gaudy in its lion-decoration as Aegon IV's had been in the Targaryen style. "I honestly figured the Dragon Whore would come seeking terms first - dragons aside, staying behind to free smelly Ghiscari slaves implies weakness." Her green eyes twinkled at Stannis. "Forgive me, but I always knew you cared less about such compassion. And I do mean that as a compliment."

His scowl hardened. "Why is it that you make even the kindest words come out as bile?"

Smile sickly sweet, Cersei chuckled. "Sixteen years as your brother's wife. I can't say the same for you." Her grin never changed. "Your wife is too much of a shrew to influence you at all."

Selyse didn't enjoy all the eyes on her. She knew it wasn't her place to speak up. Not at length, at least. "I am but a humble servant. Serving my purpose."

"Have you? Served your purpose?" Cersei asked. Her eyes flitted to Shireen, "I don't see a proper heir here. You've given your husband no heir."

Frowning, Selyse's grip on her daughter's shoulders tightened, feeling threatened. "Seems times have changed. You're a Queen, right?"

Cersei might've remarked something else but Stannis spoke up. "We are not here to speak of my family, Lannister."

Placing her arms atop her lap, the Queen of Westeros - at this point, more accurately the Queen of King's Landing - smirked. "Perhaps not, fun it is to speak of how putrid your house is." She rather enjoyed her former goodbrother's attempts to hide his ire.

Beside her, Qyburn rose. "Lord Stannis," he said in a hoarse voice. "You said in your letters by way of Lord Baelish that you wish to discuss terms of an alliance."

"Aye," Stannis repeated, ignoring the slight. "There's a greater foe out there, and she has three fire-breathing dragons."

"Shame that it wasn't the Dragon Queen that came here." The voice in question belonged to Euron Greyjoy - no one could doubt it was Crow's Eye, his stringy black hair and eyepatch matching the gold and black doublet he wore. "Not only was she far prettier than any of you lot, but I would also have seen my dear nephew again… finished what the Boltons started." He grinned. "Stannis Baratheon in the flesh." Euron eyed him down as a shark would its prey. "You're skinnier than I expected."

"And I expected something of a sorythos ape when I heard of you… perhaps I wasn't far off."

The Crow's eye made to erupt from his chair, only for Cersei to still him. "Shut it, Lord Greyjoy. There will be none of that." A smile. "We are civilized here." Ignoring the scoff from Randyll Tarly and some of the more pious Valemen and Reachmen.

Jaime didn't seem to hear his sister, "This meeting is a waste of time. They've nothing to offer us."

"You'd be wise to listen to what we have to say," Stannis told him.

"For what? We can defend ourselves from you. We have the capital, not you."

"You are nothing, Lannister," Randyll growled. "You can defend no one with one hand."

"You'd be surprised what I can do with one hand," Jaime scoffed.

"Well, you did a poor job at defending my brother with two hands," Stannis added. "I'd hate to see you with one in combat."

Jaime huffed, putting his good hand on his sword. "I'll show you."

"It'd be over quick, child."

"As much as I enjoy the bickering, I'd rather spend the minimum amount of time here as possible," Cersei said, crossing her arms. "Do you have something to offer?"

At that moment, Lord Baelish stood - brushing wrinkles out of his doublet as he walked to the middle of the dias. "My friends, Lords and Ladies, now is not the time for the petty squabbles that so divide us…"

"Get to the point, Baelish," Randyll Tarly barked. The man's unctuous pleasantries may have charmed the skirts of many young maidens that went into his brothels and never left, but he wasn't about to fall for it.

The fact Randyll had used the same arguments as to not falling for his eldest son's attempts to plead as a son loving his father not to be sent to the Wall was lost on him.

Littlefinger rolled his eyes but sped up. "Given the threat that Daenerys Targaryen's dragons bear to the Realm of Gods and men they owe no allegiance to, it would be in the interests of the realm and the people to reach a just alliance and conclusion in our hostilities."

He spoke well. He spoke passionately. His words seemed to take hold in some of the lesser lordlings and inexperienced heirs that had taken over from their deceased fathers and mothers… and yet… "Are you japing us, Littlefinger?" Jaime rolled his eyes. "The day you care about 'the people' is the day I fall into the deepest of all the hells."

"You're already halfway there, Kingslayer." Randyll wasn't shocked that Cersei was surrounded by reprobates as the false Maester, Gregor Clegane - or whatever the fuck he was now - and the Greyjoy brute. But Jaime Lannister always stood out as the original drop of poison in the wretched rule of House Lannister. "Or should I say sister-fucker?"

Jaime's eyes developed a sunken look as Cersei's narrowed. Behind, the lords of the Westerlands chafed in their seats. "You are out of line, Lord Tarly."

"No, Cersei." Eyes flickered to Stannis, finally speaking. "It is you who are out of line." Looking at Littlefinger, a flick of his wrist motioned for the Lord to sit down - not noticing the ever so subtle twinkle in Cersei's eyes telling him the same. "Lord Baelish is right. We must put aside our differences to face both the Dragon Queen and the greater enemy."

Cersei snorted. "I always figured it was prissy Renly who'd be seduced by zealotry as this… had the Red Priest they sent have a long cock rather than a sweet cunt, perhaps it would have been…"

Holding equal disdain for the usurper Renly had become, Stannis ignored that comment. Much of him wished Melisandre was here, but he was equally focused. He was the King, he was the Promised Prince. Not the Red Witch. "Here are my terms, goodsister. You bend the knee to me and get Casterly Rock. You pay me one million gold dragons. Your armies fight for me against Daenerys Targaryen, and when I claim her dragons as my own, I will not burn you alive."

There was a silence before Cersei laughed. Not a chuckle of amusement, nor a sarcastic laugh one would use to mock, but a guffaw that almost would send one falling off of their seat. "Oh, gods… you're such an idiot," Cersei choked out, trying desperately to calm herself. "You honestly suspect that you would be able to tame those dragons? You're more deluded than I thought."

"He is the Prince That Was Promised!" Selyse hissed, coming in to support her husband and King. "Born among salt and smoke, destined to wield the flaming sword Lightbringer…"

"Flaming sword?" Jaime interrupted. "Like Thoros of Myr? At least he was drunk enough to carry those damn things around."

"Shut it, Kingslayer," Randyll barked. "State your terms and be done with it, my Lady."

Cersei smirked. "I was going to ask one million gold dragons from you." Indemnities essentially dispensed with, she continued to the meat of her request. "You want Storm's End, keep it. Randyll Tarly wants the Reach… I hated the Tyrells anyway. I shan't punish the Vale for their efforts, since they never fought directly against me." It would be easy to swing the man-child to her side. "You bend the knee to me, and I won't destroy your entire army as I did at Blackwater Bay."

"Like you did?" Stannis raised an eyebrow. "I remember it was the dwarf that did that." He saw Cersei flush red in anger at her brother's name, while Jaime looked… sad? "I expect you to surrender, Lannister," Stannis grimaced.

"I don't much care about what you expect. I don't care about anything regarding you," Cersei shot back. "You can plead all you want. I'll never bow before your feet. You're just as weak as your fat brother. It'd be a shame for me to dirty my dress in your name."

Stannis' hands gripped tighter on the arms of the chair. "You dumb bitch." Cersei's Queensguard in their atrocious black armor leaned forward, hands on their swords. The Stag's men did the same. "You think you can defeat me? Have you seen the numbers at my back? I don't need to tell you how many because you know." He spread out his arms. "You have less than half that I do, but bones below my feet. I offer you a chance at survival and yet you turn it down?"

Cersei scoffed. "Of course I do." She regarded her former goodbrother as a lion would a grasshopper. Beyond bothering with. "I only accepted the parlay to tell you this - rant and scream all you want, a Baratheon will never wear the crown again. Your disgusting excuse for a House will never sit on the Iron Throne again. Come to my gates and see what happens," Cersei said, feeling more relief as the words left her mouth.

"You are crazier than I thought," Stannis said, chuckling a bit. "Madder than the Mad King, yet as stupid as my brother." He smirked at how Cersei flared, the comparison to Robert rankling her. "You actually think you have a chance. I will smite you from this earth. I'll make sure the Lannister name is long forgotten. Dead as your three bastard children, dead as your father, dead as the rest who rose up against me."

Cersei half-laughed. "Try as you might with one leg. You're weaker than Robert was before he got run through by a boar."

Eyes widening, Stannis growled, "When you go back to your keep, savor it. Cherish your time there. Then, cut your throat or toss yourself from the highest tower. If you don't, when I take the castle, I'll make sure you and yours leave this world in the most painful way possible. That dumb bastard in your belly will never see the light of day." Cersei scowled, her eyes shot to Qyburn, wondering how Stannis might've learned about her babe. Stannis wasn't sure, but her reaction confirmed it. "That's right. I know your secrets as well. Your incest spawned another bastard like Joffrey. Luckily, I'll make sure it never has to endure you. Or the shit world you've tried to create for it. It's no life for a child, and that abomination has no place in this world. I'll end it before it begins."

"And I swear this," Cersei began. "When my army outlasts yours. I will serve you with no mercy. I'll see to it your family is ripped limb from limb. Your mutant daughter's skull will be dashed against stone until there's nothing left. Ser Gregor will beat your wife to death before your own eyes. I'll make you watch it all. The bodies will be left in your cell. As they rot, so will you."

Stannis rose, hearing enough. "Thousands need to die because you can't do what needs to be done? Fine. So be it."

"Thousands will die regardless," Jaime spoke up. "I don't see you for the prisoner taking sort of man."

"You compare me to the Dragon Queen?" Stannis scoffed.

"You did burn Olenna Tyrell at the stake," Cersei replied. "Seems you both have a proclivity for burning people."

Stannis smirked, pointing a finger at her, "You'll meet the same fate. Sit upon my Throne all you want. I'll rip you down from it. I'll enjoy watching the skin wash off your face as the flames cleanse you of your iniquity."

Cersei shook her head, anger bubbling to the surface. "And I'll enjoy watching your face as your family is torn apart before your own eyes."

Stannis scowled, sensing this meeting was drawing to a close. He turned to his Queen. "Selyse, take Shireen, and go back to camp."

But the inquisitive Princess had other ideas. "No," she whispered. Being involved for the purposes of learning to rule, but now her father was sending her away like a small child. For someone with the innate Baratheon temper - if usually buried under her sweet nature. "Father, you need to try and negotiate."

Trying desperately not to let his ire at Shireen's disobedience get to him, Stannis doubled down. "Wife, get her back to camp."

"We need peace… father…" Shireen tried to reason further with him. So much death, chaos… no one noticed the Princess catching glimpses of every battle she was close to, every execution she was refused to officially attend. But it weighed on her, shaped her in a direction opposed to her father. "Don't let more innocents suffer."

"Come on, Shireen," Selyse murmured, pulling her daughter away - growing angry at the humor the Lannisters were undoubtedly having at the scene.

"Yes. So be it. Send the prissy ladies away. They have no place here. That worthless wife has no place anywhere," Cersei spouted on. Selyse stopped dead in her tracks, Shireen in front of her. "You had a number of stillborns, didn't you? Seems in order to me for such a weak woman." She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it won't matter in time. Perhaps I'll take your daughter under my wing. I'll teach her how to be a real lady."

Selyse turned and walked past Stannis' chair. No one was in place to stop her. "You dumb bitch!" she yelled. "The Lord of Light will show you who the real King is! My husband Stannis!" Her feet carried her out into the open. Still moving directly for Cersei. "You are the weak woman for challenging my Stannis!"

"Selyse! Come back!" Stannis ordered but she wasn't listening. The Stag Queen kept on. She had a murderous gaze about her countenance. Cersei was a bit startled, pulling a face. Though she was unafraid. In a swift motion, her hand gestured towards Selyse. Before anyone else could speak, a large black form moved in front of his Queen. Ser Gregor Cleagne needed little harassment to take a life. Seeing him, Selyse realized her mistake. Unfortunately, for her, it was far too late.

In a quick motion, Gregor took her by the head with one hand. Lifting her into the air, one thumb pierced deep into her eye. Her screams warbled out in high-pitched, blood-curdling cries. It cut off quickly, all too abruptly. Able to rend well-muscled warriors in their prime, Gregor didn't flinch as he squeezed the thin stick of a woman until her head imploded in his fist.

The whole act began and then ended before most were able to react.

Blood and brain matter splattered in all directions, onto the Mountain's armor and on the doublets and tunics of those in the vicinity. With a wordless gesture, he heaved Selyse's body into the air - landing right in front of Stannis. Her skull emptied its contents before Stannis' feet. The blood pooled, rolling under his boots.

Silence fell, both those on the side of the Stag and the side of the Lion either shocked still or gaping in stunned silence. Captured in sheer disbelief of what they saw. Randyll Tarly covered his mouth with his palm to ward off nausea, Jaime Lannister stared with wide, frightened eyes, and even Littlefinger seemed to tremble slightly. Cersei, on the other hand, smiled brightly and rolled her eyes. "Stupid cunt, I enjoyed that more than I thought I would."

"Mother!" Shireen wailed, walking closer until she fell to her knees. A Baratheon guardsman had the sense to make sure she didn't make the same mistake as Selyse, pulling her back from the corpse as she simply broke down before the entire parlay. Taking it upon himself to remove his Princess out of there.

Stannis was unmoving, complete blindsiding turning quickly to a raging inferno so great that his leg ceased to ache. His eyes lingered on what remained of his Queen. Then he looked up to see Cersei's sly grin. "I'll tear that babe from your belly, then watch you burn," was his only response.

A Lannister guardsman reacted involuntarily. So used to killing defenseless smallfolk for their insults on the Queen, he moved forward out of habit, hand on the hilt of his sword. This drew the notice of a Baratheon bannerman - already on edge as it was from the death of his Queen - leveled his spear and hurled it at the oncoming foe. Skewering him through the heart in a perfect throw, the dead man falling with a grunt.

For the second time, a silence fell over the now ruined parlay. Only instead of the shocked stillness of before, now the tension was so thick that one could cut it with a spoon. Jaime slowly stood, good hand wrapping around the grip of Widow's Wail as he slowly approached Cersei. Around him, the Queensguards drew their blades, surrounding their monarch.

"Stay behind me, your Grace," remarked Ser Edric, standing in front of Stannis. "We will protect you." Slowly, the Lannister guardsmen marched forward, Jaime pushing Cersei back.

"Kill her, nephew," Stannis hissed. "I want her dead." His blue eyes met Cersei's greens, both dark with hate.

Edric would carry out his uncle and King's orders. "For the King!" Greatsword held in two hands, he charged at the head of the Baratheon guards. Cersei's men were barely able to tense up in formation as the two lines crashed together in a chaotic melee. Both had expected such treachery, and thus were heavy in guards while light on actual dignitaries… the natural conclusion erupted here as the lighter Baratheons assaulted the heavily armored Lannister Landsknecht. Slamming into their shields and hacking with axes and swords while trying not to get skewered or bulled over.

The Kingsguard of the Stag - armor, and tunics a vibrant yellow and black of the House of the Durrandon Kings with a flaming Stag emblazoned in the front - aimed straight for Cersei… and by proxy Ser Gregor. Parmen Crane charged directly at him, only for the immense broadsword of the Mountain that Rode to literally cleave through his shield… and then his helm, blood gushing from the stump of his neck. Entering the fray behind, both Edric and Ser Hyle Hunter abandoned their shields and engaged the monster sword to sword.

"Protect the Queen!" bellowed Jaime, more concentrated in pulling Cersei out with his good arm around her waist while the Queensguard surrounded her - swords out and blocking all attacks.

"I can walk myself!" Cersei hissed.

Jaime ignored her. His anger grew and grew as the Lannister forces began to retreat to their wagons, putting up a fighting withdrawal against the more numerous Stormlands and Reach guards of the Stag King. "You had to kill Lady Selyse?" he whispered harshly in her ear once two layers of troops blocked their enemies.

"She attacked me…"

"She was harmless…" Gods, was there anyone his sister wouldn't kill? Me?

The fact it was a question to him said wonders. His eyes lingered on her as they moved away. What was she truly capable of?

"Do not stop!" Stannis bellowed at his men. Watching his Kingsguards beating even Ser Gregor back. Seeing the Lannisters retreat against the attacking Baratheons. Spear meeting axe, longsword meeting greatsword. "Bring me her head!"

"Your Grace… you need to fall back," begged Randyll Tarly.

"You two!" Stannis ordered two remaining guards. "Get my wife's body off the ground and back to the mounts." He'd be damned if the true Queen was left out on the ground.

Randyll was unmoved. Worried the King's leg would give out at any moment. "It's too dangerous for you…"

He turned to him with blazing eyes. "Lead the men! Your King commands it." Randyll grimaced but complied… leaving Stannis unprotected as the Lannisters laid an ambush.

Two of the westermen guards, feigning death, suddenly scrambled to their feet. The line having moved many yards back, they had open ground between them and the Stag King. Swords high, they charged with snarling battlecries.

Warrior instincts kicking in, Stannis drew his own blade. Heart pounding as he parried the wild attacks. His nimble body danced in a sudden gasp of power from the proud fighter he had once been. Knocking one blade back, attacking the other in the fury of his house - Stannis lashed out with a punch before twirling on his good leg to slash at the first guardsman, slashing through his throat. Bloodlust up, the crazed swing of the remaining Lannister was dodged, Stannis running through his chainmail shirt with his sword…

Just as his leg gave out. "Fuck!" Gritting his teeth in the most unbelievable pain, he fell upon the corpse of his attacker - rolling off, trying to get up but finding only agony at even the slightest pressure on the wounded limb. He felt arms grab at him. "Get off me! Back to the fight!" They ignored him, pulling him towards their own camp.

Pressing forward, the hue came to the Baratheon men at arms. "The King retires! Fall back!" Blood up, the herald deflated their anger. In blocs the groups of Stags broke off the attack, falling to the rear after their King - still screaming through his pain that the attack be pressed. Behind, the lions refused to follow, over a dozen corpses left in their wake.

Watching this, Cersei chuckled. "They couldn't even beat me here."

"They will be back," Jaime murmured.

"And Stannis will have to crawl over the corpses of every man, woman, and babe in King's Landing if he wants to take what is mine." At this point, Jaime didn't even hear the difference between her and Aerys...

Hunger.

She'd managed to make the last rabbit last quite a while, but now she just wanted to devour anything she could get her hands on. Berries and crusty bread weren't cutting it. Catching a live game just wasn't easy. Only able to do it a few times. She needed a bow, but no idea how to make one. Attempts were made, but she had nothing to use as a drawstring.

Once, she saw a fisherman use a sharp stick to stab a fish in a river. Tried that too, yet the fish were too fast. After getting her boots waterlogged a number of times she gave up, though the water soothed her feet after all the walking. Which she was doing a hell of a lot more of after selling her horse to buy food - it rankled her but starvation ranked higher on the list to avoid. The man at the tavern close to Raventree Hall offered her three fresh rabbits. She thought that was a terrible deal. So, he threw it a few loaves of bread. She couldn't turn it down.

That food lasted her a long time once she figured out how to properly ration it. Yet somewhere along the way in the Riverlands, she took her last bite of the rabbits. A while after that, her body needed more sustenance. She fought it off as long as she could. That only got her so far. All she knew was to walk south along the King's Road. Once hunger struck her again, she decided to wander off to the right. Hoping to stumble across something edible. The road behind her became distant, more and more trees appeared, looming over her, shading her from the sun. The two saddlebags sung over her shoulders never felt heavier.

That's when she set her eyes on a squirrel. A big black one, scampering up a tree trunk. Her mind flashed back to hot squirrel stew in the Great Hall at Winterfell. For the first time in a while, she wanted to be back there. A small, innocent child with not a care in the world. She froze as she stared at the small rodent. Wanting nothing more than to catch it and kill it. Unfortunately, she had no way of doing that with it in the tree. Her initial instinct was to lob her walking stick at it. She knew immediately that wouldn't work though. Her mind raced with options, none seeming correct.

Even before she moved next, the squirrel raced down the tree, back on to the grassy ground. It's tiny eyes beamed all-around before taking off out into an open pasture nearby. Slowly as she could, she followed it out of the brush. The squirrel sat before her, very close. Gently, she laid her saddlebags down for easier mobility. She drew her blade gradually, approaching with ease. Just when she drew near, right before she struck it dead, a stray arrow flew out of the bushes nearby and killed the squirrel dead. Right in front of her.

She stomped her foot and screamed, "Seven hells!"

Moments later a shriveled up boy came out the trees next to her with a bow in his hands. He wore a leather cap over his head and a woolen cloak over his shoulders. "Oh… didn't see you's 'ere."

"You dullard. I wanted that squirrel. How could've you not seen me getting ready to kill it?"

"I'ms sorry, miss. I…"

"Just be silent," the girl said, holding up her hand. "Listen, I'm taking that squirrel. I don't care if you killed it first."

"It was me that kill it," the boy said, coming closer to her. "It's mine."

Her expression darkened significantly, hand tightening around Needle. "Come try and take it then."

The boy noticed her aggression and wisely held his hands up. "You can hav' it... if you want."

"Good," she smirked and picked it up. She tore the arrow out and tossed it before the boy's feet. "You can have that back, at least." Her feet carried it back over to bags, stuffing the poor squirrel in one of them. Bags sung over her shoulders, she prepared to leave. But the boy still lingered near.

His words stopped her, "But how's 'bout I show you something before you go?"

"What do you mean?" she asked him.

He walked away from her, meaning for her to follow. For some reason, she did. They didn't walk far. Emerging out of the woods, the young hunter gestured to something that caused her eyebrows to quirk up. "Ere's my home." A collection of unfinished houses, some mere frames of wood while others only waited for the thatch roofs to complete them. The half-constructed spire of a sept - the largest building here but nowhere near the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing or the houses of worship in Braavos - rested in the middle, someone there ringing a bell. "That's the call to lunch. Yer' welcome to join us."

She shook her head. "That's alright. I better be on my way." Some might take it as modesty, but truth be told she simply didn't want to deal with anyone - it was best that she stay alone.

But the lad was insistent. "Brother Meribald would 'ave mi' stones if I let a young lady go without feedin' 'er. Come on." She rolled her eyes - stomach growling. One meal. One meal and then I'm out.

The people of the settlement were typical smallfolk. Rough and dirty, but all had smiles on their faces and cheers in their hearts as Arya walked among them. Carefree and innocent, even in the land most ravaged by the wars. She didn't understand it - those in Winterfell had never known war for generations and yet a few years under the Ironborn and the Boltons had rendered them almost as hardened as her. It truly baffled her.

In any case, her guide reached someone giving directions for meal lines - clearly a man of authority. "Brother Meribald, I found me a newcomer."

"Oh?" asked the man, suddenly interested. "The more the merrier I say… now where is he?"

"He is a she." Getting closer, Arya studied the man. He had a slight pot-belly, curly hair and beard thick. There was a look of a warrior in him, but one that had softened with age and peace. He reminded Arya of her father in a way - both a good and a bad thing. "And she is me."

A pair of warm blue eyes regarded her. "Such a lovely young lady you brought for us, Dunk. I'm Brother Meribald, and welcome to our home." He motioned for Arya to follow him. "What's your name?"

She hesitated to answer, but decided it couldn't hurt, "Arya."

"Good to see you, Arya," Meribald laughed. "Looking for a new place to settle down?"

Arya shook her head. "No, just passing through." The fewer people knew, the better.

Meribald nodded. "Wary traveler then… the Seven's Blessings to us are yours to enjoy as well."

Countless atrocities had taught her to be wary of such munificence - and yet those same experiences taught Arya to read people. He seemed genuine. "I don't follow the Faith," she finally said.

"Ah, a northerner. Not at all a problem." That did seem to surprise her, not that Arya showed it. "I saw many during my time in the wars - good people, if a bit crude. I find it charming, though."

To this, Arya raised an eyebrow. "Wars?"

The jolly man gave her a small smile, taking a ladle and dipping in a steaming pot of stew. "Aye, I was a warrior once. Fought in the last war for a time, also in the war in the Stepstones far before your time."

Her mind struggled, trying to remember her histories. Arya could care less about what Septa Mordane tried to drill in her, but she always loved the stories about the great battles. "The War of the Ninepenny Kings?" She smiled inwardly at remembering.

"So they called it, though I never saw a king, nor earned a penny. It was war, though. That's what it was… truly doesn't have to be much else. Much death and broken men." He poured a generous helping onto a thick trencher of bread. "It's why I stopped. Too many broken men for my taste… here." He handed the trencher to Arya. "Enjoy."

Almost declining, the heavenly smell that wafted in her nostrils killed any attempt to leave. After weeks of badly roasted rabbits she kept in her pack, the steaming beef in front of her was like the nectar of the gods. "Thank you."

"Such good manners," laughed Meribald jovially. "I like you very much, young lady."

"Yeah… I suppose I like you too." Something about him seemed… genuine. Like the townsfolk. Smiling softly at Meribald, Arya moved to an empty spot at a large table and sat. Barely seated before she dug in with gusto - three spoonfuls in her mouth in less than ten seconds. Gods, it tasted better than it smelled. She forced herself to slow down, savoring each morsel.

Something crashed behind Arya, as if someone dropped a stack of logs. "The fuck?" Arya tensed, hearing a voice she hadn't heard in years. Of someone, she thought long dead. "How the fuck are you still alive?"

She turned and was immediately greeted with the scarred visage of Sandor Clegane, his beard scruffier, and dressed in the clothes of a simple laborer. Ear still missing from where Brienne bit it off. Her eyes narrowed. Of all the people… "I could say the same for you."

A/N: BRuh4: Stannis and Cersei are never gonna come to an accord now. It's to the death.

We used the book version of Meribald, though we would still have Ian McShane play the character (Dumb and Dumber did him dirty).

Longclaw: Hey hey, hows about that? Selyse is dead. The consequences will be many. Arya and Sandor have met each other again. Jon has some things to ponder. Dany too.

Also, there a lot of things flying around for Jon and Dany. If you're wondering, their relationship will come to head... eventually. Sure it's been a minute, if you're waiting for it just be patient. We want it too and we've been waiting for it far longer than you have. A year and three days ago, we published the first chapter of this thing. We've still got a while to go still.

I hope you're with us.

Tell your friends.