Catelyn Tully Stark

The Northern Camp at Ashemark, 300AC

Ever since realising that she had been losing herself, life had seemed to test her more than ever. The harsh truth that she had not been sticking to the words her House held so dear to their hearts and tried to follow as best they could, only ever straying from them when they had little choice in the matter. Words she had worked to instil in her children. Yet now? It was being thrown directly in her face and she knew nought how to handle it all.

Not much was spoken on what had happened before Jaeron flew to Dragonstone. Hoping he would be successful as not only was it risky it was bordering on stupidity. Yet he was certain, and the timings did work out just in their favour if everything went as planned. If so, he would have a betrothal with none other than Margaery Tyrell. The only daughter of Alerie Hightower and Mace Tyrell, known as the golden rose of the Reach. And she most certainly was, remembering the striking beauty of the younger woman when she had met her after meeting with Renly.

With Dorne somewhat on their side again, the Reach, the North, the Riverland's, and with much of the Westerland's under their control they had a brilliant position. If Jaeron did succeed in taking Dragonstone they would have a foothold close to the capital leaving the throne ripe for the taking on all sides. Of course this was not going to stop the war. The war would not come to an end until the Lannister's were dead or at the very least weakened massively. No, even the latter was too risky for them. Lannister's had a way with their words and they were still the richest House in the realm. Gold talks well despite there never being a voice coming from the metal.

It had been tense in the camp for nigh on a fortnight, and it grated on her no one was saying a thing. How could she just sit back and try to aid when no one was telling her anything? Robb was furious over something, and it did not miss her observant gaze that Jaeron had not even so much as looked at Robb before leaving. Ever since they were boys they had been close. Something which had angered her massively before Ned pulled her aside the day before the boy was made aware to tell her a truth which shattered everything she had known. A truth so dangerous that if it came out at the wrong time would've seen not only House Stark decimated, but House Tully as well.

Family before duty, duty before honour.

The words spinning around in her head as she desperately tried to figure out where she had begun to stray from her values. Had it been when they had found out about Ned? Had it been earlier? Had she fully adapted to the North and had been in denial about it? So many questions, all of which she would not get an answer for. Angering her even more. There was a collective hush in the camp when her nephew had taken off with her uncle and Ser Arthur on Rhaegon. Smiling fondly as she had saw the look of complete and utter terror on Brynden's face for a split second before they were in the clouds heading far south. Knowing that was something she was going to use to annoy him in the future.

It was obvious both boys had a fight, and she had asked people if they knew what the fight was about. No one ever responding to her either because they were sworn to secrecy by one of them or they genuinely did not know. Right now, family meant everything. No matter what, family should always come first. Therefore once her nephew had left, she had went in search of her eldest son to finally get the truth of what had happened from his mouth. She found him speaking to Lord Rickard Karstark and Lord Roose Bolton, the latter staring at her with a look so cold she could've sworn she felt a gust of wind hit the back of her neck. Tensing her neck muscles slightly but otherwise keeping calm and playing it off simply as a chill considering it was a cool night. Compared to the North it was warm, much like the breeze when summer snows fell, but it wasn't normal for the Westerland's.

"Mother."

The word came out a little clipped, confirming he was either angry at her or was angry at something else. Nodding to the two Lord's who walked away not long after, signalling her towards his tent and seeing a map strewn out as usual. Robb was always looking at maps, searching for ways to help speed up the war and to bring an end to everything. Small talk being shared but it was clear both had a lot to speak on, but neither wanted to be the first to speak up. After what felt like an age, she broke.

"Why were you speaking with Lord Roose and Lord Rickard?"

Robb seemed to freeze for a moment before looking down to the map.

"With Jaeron going to Dragonstone, if we are to start moving out of the Westerland's it makes sense for at least a portion of the army to start moving south. Lord Roose suggested Duskendale. Since it's on the coast meaning we are close to Jaeron, but we are also close to the capital."

A chill ran through her again, putting this to the back of her head because it did make sense in her mind. With the Kingdom's behind mostly being their domain they had more than enough protection. It would certainly make what would be the deciding battle easier for them, and that day was drawing closer than she wished.

"Of course, you'll need to run it all by his Grace first."

Robb froze again and this caused a gnawing sensation to form in her gut. Closing her eyes and sighing deeply.

"You have given Lord Roose the all go to assemble a portion of the army to start marching south, haven't you?"

Her son didn't need to confirm anything with words, his silence being the confirmation needed. Pinching the bridge of her nose as she desperately tried to keep her anger from spilling over the edge like it had done for so long without her even noticing.

"And Lord Rickard?"

"Wants revenge for his sons, but Jaeron will not allow it."

At least her nephew was being sensible, Catelyn thought to herself. But something caught her attention, the accentuation on the will not portion. Robb clearly not agreeing with the decision as she frowned deeply.

"It's the sensible move, son."

"Not the honourable one, though. Father would not stand for such."

There it was. Confirmation of what had happened. For the past fortnight Lord Rickard had ranted and raved on how the King was breaking a promise made to him, but Jaeron was not someone who broke promises. Confusion circling in her mind before a horrid feeling deep within her gut was noticeable.

"What happened, Robb?"

"I promised Lord Rickard I would see him receive justice for the murder of his sons- "

"You did what?!"

Of all the things Catelyn was prepared to hear, that was not one of them. Beginning to connect the dots between everything as a horrifying truth came to light and just why the two boys were not talking to one another.

"It's the right thing to do!"

"Sometimes the right thing to do is not the correct thing to do. Your father did that and now his head is covered in tar atop a spike in Kings Landing. For all we know his body was fed to the hounds or something else as he has not been returned to us. Do you have any idea what you have done? Making a promise behind the King's back is blackmail son."

Robb stood up at this, clearly not wanting to hear any of her words. My boy, what happened to you? She looked to him, seeing a boy of seventeen due to turn eighteen, but right now she was not looking at a boy but a man.

"The men are calling me weak- "

"You mean you did something behind your King's back, intended to use blackmail to get him to agree, then when he didn't you were left stuck between two walls with no way out?"

His face burned red at this, opening his mouth to say something but was either resisting or did not know what to say.

"What happened between yourself and Jaeron? We cannot have dissent in the camp, son. Under any circumstances."

Catelyn only realised now her voice was steadily getting louder, coughing a little into her hand and taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down before this turned ugly.

"I punched him."

Her eyes widened at this, running it through her head before remembering she did see a yellowish bruise on Jaeron's cheek. She had put it down to a sparring accident which was a common thing or perhaps an older bruise from when he attacked Harrenhal when going after the Mountain. Not at any point would she have considered Robb would've raised a hand to him.

"Robb, raising a hand to a King is high treason- "

"Is that all he is now? My King? You were right with your words so long ago, mother. Jon Snow was my brother, Jaeron Targaryen is my King. But right now? Jon Snow is dead. I made a promise, and Stark's hold oaths in high regard, I will not back down on my word."

That horrible gnawing deep in her gut got worse now as the words sunk into her bones.

"You cannot execute Ser Jaime, Robb. If you do so, you take away the only thing that prevents Lord Tywin from bringing his entire force our way. And if you do so, Jaeron will never forgive you. What did I always tell you growing up? Duty before honour, but no matter what family comes before duty- "

"Your House words, not mine. House Stark's words are Winter is Coming. I cannot be weak in front of my men. Have you heard the talk? They see me as a puppy following its master. I am Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North. I cannot afford to look weak under any circumstance. Lord Rickard is on the brink of deserting which will leave us with four thousand less men. With my oaths if he deserted me I would need to execute him. House Karstark are kin to me, I will not become a kinslayer mother. I need to keep him close, and if the only way I can keep him close is to bring him the justice he is crying for, then I will grant him the justice. Ser Jaime will be executed when the moon is at its highest."

He left her then, walking out into the open with not even a guard outside the tent that was how sure they were of their position. Feeling fault deep within at not realising her sons feelings towards it all. She hadn't heard such talk herself, but she supposed that came from the men not wanting to do so to her face. A sudden thought entering her mind now. If what Robb said was true and this was how they saw him, what were they saying about her? Shaking her head as she left the tent towards her own where Brienne was waiting obediently as always. The younger looking to her strangely but not saying anything on the matter as she'd long gotten the hint that Catelyn would speak when she wanted to speak. Right now, she did not want to speak. Thinking everything through thoroughly.

As much as she hated to admit it, Robb did make a valid point. One that Jaeron probably didn't notice. Of course, Lord Rickard could be bluffing, but Northerner's didn't bluff. If he said he was close to abandoning them, he was close to abandoning them. Travel back to Karstark to sit and stew in his anger until the war had been won where it wasn't guaranteed he would be the one to get justice for his sons. Then she thought on the other side of it. Jaeron would not want men with him who were going to blackmail him into doing their own bidding. A King does not bow to every subjects whim. The last person who had been like this had been Lord Tytos Lannister. Father to Tywin, Genna, Tyrek, Gerion, and Kevan. Who had let his subjects use him time and time again to better themselves until two reached farther than they ever should've wished for. And those House's were now extinct.

However, if Robb was true to his word which she was certain he was, it would leave them open to attack. It would considerably weaken the army and would anger the Westerland Lord's. As they were in the Westerland's, they would be prime prey for the lions to pounce on them. As much as wolves were fierce creatures, there was no denying lions were stronger. And if Robb went against Jaeron's orders, it would further be seen as high treason. Her nephew would then be stuck between two walls where duty and family were conjoined into the one. Both sides fighting for dominance. Duty would compel him to denounce Robb which would put most of the North against him. In turn this would put the Riverland's against him as her father had only pledged for House Targaryen because Robb had done so.

No. This she could not permit. It would push her son away but it would be safer for the realm. Prevent a divide from opening where there would be no return. Catelyn just hoped that in time, her son would forgive her for what she was about to do. Heading to Jaeron's tent in his absence and seeing the key for the chains, quickly stuffing it under her skirts so no one would be none the wiser. Waiting patiently until most people had gone to sleep before walking to the makeshift cage they built for Ser Jaime. The man stinking of piss, shit, and sweat. Face sunken in and essentially looking like his skin was tight against his skeleton. Opening the door and stepping inside, Brienne guarding her back.

"Wake up."

For a moment she thought he did not hear her. But then there was a slight chuckle under his breath. Raising his head and seeing his eyes seemed to glow and glitter like emeralds.

"What brings you here, Lady Stark? Come to escort me to my long awaited execution?"

She refused to let the words get under her skin. Walking forward and jamming the key into the lock and watching as they fell from his terrifyingly thin arms from many months of imprisonment. Mayhaps even close to a year, it was difficult to tell with everything that had occurred.

"Brienne, keep him close to you."

The two had discussed on their way over, her sworn shield being extremely reluctant but had eventually agreed. Walking inside with the rope to tie his arms behind his back and hoist him to his feet before leaving the cage. When the hour of the wolf came, she saw Robb come forth alongside Lord Rickard Karstark and Lord Jon Umber who had a sullen look on his face- obviously mislking this just as much as she did. Her son looking to her with utmost anger as Lord Rickard's face went so red she could've sworn he looked like he had replaced his head with a tomato.

"Lord Umber, seize my mother."

Catelyn didn't even fight back. Looking to her son with complete disappointment. Why couldn't he see what she saw? Feeling ropes tying her own hands to her back and being marched back towards the camp, feeling the eyes of many Northerner's and Riverlander's filled with anger.

Stannis Baratheon

On route from Kings Landing to Dragonstone, 300AC

He rose to the surface sputtering, muttering furiously under his breath. When the battle was lost, he had fled with some of his men, hiding in a cave and every time a man walked passed ducking their heads below the water. Which is what he had just done there. He'd been counting in his mind roughly how often the people were coming and going, deciding when the best time was to run onto the beach and take a boat back to his ships- if any of his ships were remaining. As much as it angered him, he had to give the Imp credit. Very clever, and he had walked directly into the trap.

The sound of the wildfire igniting still rang loudly in his ears. His mind playing it back over and over again every time he closed his eyes. Even if it was only for a second. Only once they were all certain no one else was on the beach did they run out towards one of the boats that had been left. Rowing frantically and noticing other survivors doing the same from the numerous caves there were aligning the Blackwater. Trying his best to count but there was not enough time for that. They needed to get to shore, far away from the city before the Lannister bastard or his mother found out. He was a stag, stags often come out below in a fight with a lion. He would not be one of them.

Stannis looked around him as he saw what remained of his fleet. The one portion of his army that was the strongest as Velaryon's were known for their naval prowess. The very reason the Targaryen's frequently had them as their Master of Ships or captains of the royal fleet. He'd need to rebuild everything back again which was going to take years, years in which he did not have. The further out they got the less damage there was, now knowing the wildfire had been placed mainly at the vanguard to cause chaos. And chaos it had caused. Unnatural green flames rising high as ships burned or were blown to pieces. His men being thrown from the force or running as their bodies were alight and jumping into the water not caring if they knew how to swim or not. If he was given said choice, he would rather drown. At least that was quick.

By now, they were close to the back and he sighed in relief at seeing a few hundred men on the remaining ships. At least his army wasn't wholly decimated, which was something at least. Being the first to hoist himself up on deck and looking over everything, spotting some with horrid burn marks on their skin or with just gaping holes from where they had been hit with debris- the wildfire immediately having cauterised the wound. It was a grizzly sight, the sight of war. But it was a common one to see now.

"How many survivors?"

A younger man ran forward, clutching some parchment which they must've been keeping a tally.

"A little more than two thousand, your Grace."

He went quiet at this, letting the figure run through his mind before nodding. What was done was done.

"Any notable deaths to be made aware of? Or anyone unaccounted for?"

It went quiet at his question, noticing now no more boats were rowing their way. Counting approximately fifty ships remaining of the two hundred he had sailed with.

"Ser Edwyd and Ser Bryan Fossoway, the four eldest Seaworth boys, and Lord Monford Velaryon are amongst the casualties. There may be more, but these we know for certain."

He closed his eyes for a moment at this, letting it all sink in. Whilst the Fossoway's weren't that important, Ser Davos was one of his lealest men. The man would not take kindly to four of his sons perishing. Whilst they had sailed on bad terms after he had convinced him not to take the Red Woman with him, he would never forget the man who daringly smuggled in onions during a siege when they were all on the brink of starvation. It was the final name that was spoken that was the worst of all. With Lord Monford being Lord of the Tides and Lord of High Tide, he got his ships. This would leave his infant son Monterys his heir but what good could a six name-day old do? Then again, there was the bastard Aurane, wherever he was.

"We sail back to Dragonstone. There we will regroup and count our losses. Then we will work out our next move."

"There is something else, your Grace."

He spun on his feet to face the young man who seemed to be shaking as if he feared being faced with a wrath. Ours is the Fury indeed. Words that had once belonged to House Durrandon before King Argillac the Arrogant had been slain and Orys Baratheon took over the Stormland's three hundred years prior.

"Theon Greyjoy stole a ship in the chaos of everything. We lost sight of it. We don't know if he's gone west, east, or south."

This one didn't bother him too much. Turning to the men on the ship he was currently on as they set sail for Dragonstone. Selyse wouldn't be pleased her distant Fossoway cousins had not survived, but little pleased her. Not looking forward to seeing her mouse-like face, massive ears, and noticeable moustache. There was no love there, nor was there even affection. Yet he could not bring himself to hate her as she had given him a daughter. He remembered well the moment that teddy bear had been gifted to them. Watching his little girl pick it up eagerly and press it against her cheek whilst spinning happily in circles. Something which had turned to horror when where she had pressed it against her cheek began to turn grey and realising it was infested.

Shireen had cried when he ripped it from her and threw it directly into the fireplace. Ordering Maester Cressen to see to her straight away to see if anything could be done. How many ointments they had tried he had lost count of. The amount of times another Maester had been called and he had been told it would be best to put her out of her misery so she would not be faced with the fortune of slowly turning into a Stone Man. Losing her mind until there was nothing but a monster left. Yet he had refused to do so. Sending for anyone he could think of. He forgot the name of the man who had stopped the disease from festering further now, something he was not pleased to admit. But they hadn't been quick enough to stop the scarring. One side of her face and a part of her neck now coloured dark grey and solid to the touch like it were actually stone.

The first port of call would be to find out who was still loyal to him after a defeat as such. His second port of call would be to legitimise Aurane Waters to ensure the loyalty of House Velaryon to begin building his fleet back up again. The journey back to Dragonstone felt like it was taking weeks and not a little more than a day like it usually did. The winds were not wholly strong which was certainly slowing them down a fair amount. The waters clear and unmoving, watching numerous schools of fish alongside a few eels- a delicacy on Dragonstone. Not one he himself had ever tried as the idea of eating one of those just made him want to gag.

The closer they got though, the more he felt uneasy. There was a change in the air, and it seemed a few others felt it too as many were fidgeting where they previously were not. Dragonstone was his Seat though. If he could not go there where could he go? Ser Davos' small castle on Cape Wrath? That wouldn't be a good thing, knowing Marya Seaworth would be cursing every god there was when she found out the fate of her four eldest sons. They were good men, if a little cocky at times. Something which was stopped when they were reminded they had once lived in a tiny house in Flea Bottom and had to jump over a river of shit every time they left their home. The younger three had never experienced such, had only known life in a castle.

Then a ship came into view. A thick layer of fog blocking much of his vision and muttering quietly to himself. He had left a few ships behind to guard the island because he was confident no one would take his Seat. Dragonstone was a dreary island with a few small towns where nothing ever happened and a castle so drear it would dampen even the mood of the cheeriest person alive. Then a second ship, and a third. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked to his men. Were they already so close that they could see the ships he'd left? Now, there were about a dozen ships, sighing with relief at seeing the banners of House Velaryon. They were his own. The temporary relief did not last for long though as he spotted a few more ships with a different sigil. Squinting to see through the thick fog and stepping back in confusion at seeing the merman of House Manderly. Why would Manderly's be this far south?

A massive shadow engulfed them then. Many staggering back in fright as they looked to the sky to see what had caused it. But it was to no avail, all they could see was white. Like a cloud had fallen from the sky and they were sailing through it. The shadow flew overhead again, whatever had caused it making the ship shake from the force of the wind it generated. A sound that made him shiver on the spot, a roar so loud it had his ears ringing. There was a clearing in the fog now, a few brave souls including himself looking up to the sky. Then he saw it. Bright silver it was, the rays from the sun bouncing off the scales like a mirror. With wings coloured black and red. It dived down as another shadow appeared, this one a dark blue in colour with swirls of grey. Snapping playfully at one another before flying out of their vision again.

"Please tell me I did not see what I think I just saw."

Who it was that spoke he couldn't put a name to. Probably a random man in his army which given the fact he had no burns to his clothing or exposed skin had not been near the front where the wildfire was ignited. A flash of green flame burning bright in his mind again.

"Unless we're both dreaming of seeing a silver and blue dragon, then yes, you saw what you think you did."

Stannis could not deny it, there was no denying what they were. He'd seen the skulls in the Red Keep on many occasions. Unlike Robert, he remembered they were kin to the dragons. The only reason he had risen against them was because Robert was his brother. A brother trumps a cousin removed in every situation. But dragons had all died out more than one hundred years ago. The last one that had been large enough to ride had been Morning. A pale pink and black she-dragon ridden by Rhaena Targaryen- or Rhaena Corbray as she had wed into said House. One of the twins of the Lady Laena Velaryon and Prince Daemon Targaryen. Half-sister to his own ancestor Viserys II. Yet it was clear that dragons were back. He'd heard whispers that the Targaryen in Essos had eggs but he had not believed it. He knew it could not be her as it would take her many months to travel from Vaes Dothrak to Dragonstone. Who did these belong to? Or had they just been random eggs buried deep in the Dragonmont that had hatched under his nose? Somehow, he doubted such a thing. Many would call him dull, but he saw himself as observant.

Hence him looking around to try and figure out what was going on. Was this some ploy by the Red Woman? It wouldn't surprise him considering what he'd seen her do. But that did not explain the Manderly ships. For a moment he had thought maybe Robb Stark had come to his senses but that did not make sense as all reports placed him in the Westerland's being a massive thorn in the Old Lion's foot. An impressive thing to do, and if he weren't in open rebellion against him he happily would've taken him into his council as a Master of War if he was agreeable. Had the Manderly's betrayed their liege and flocked to him? Somehow, he thought that unlikely. House Manderly were incredibly loyal to House Stark after they had been granted sanctuary when the Gardener King's wanted them all dead for a reason he could not recall. They were close to where they would dock now. The boats being lowered so they could row the remainder of the way. The largest town on the island surrounding them. Once ashore though, he noticed something which angered him massively. Tightening his lips as he spotted banners with the golden rose of House Tyrell and many more with the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.

"Your Grace, should we sail elsewhere?"

He turned to face the man who spoke, the voice was familiar but his face had an ugly open sore on it from where the wildfire had gotten him. A gaping hole where his nose had been completely burned off.

"We will not. We will land and find out who this new usurper is."

With the command given, they rowed the remainder of the way onto the beach. Many men heavily armed awaiting him. He did not need to wait for long. The silver dragon landing directly in front of him. The beast was so close he could feel the hot breath but he showed no fear on his expression despite feeling like he was about to piss himself out of said emotion any second. Lowering its head and noticing a rider on its back loosening chains and sliding off, another rider behind the first wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard which confused him even more. The one in the white cloak was wearing a helmet which completely covered his face but the other was only wearing light armour. Intricately carved with hundreds of tiny scales with numerous red adornments in the black leather which covered the metal. On his chest was the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. He was young, no more than twenty name-days. With black hair falling to just above his jawline and curling at the ends. Eyes such a bright shade of purple they did not look real. But he recognised the face somewhat. From what he recalled, all Stark boys had inherited their mothers auburn hair, which left one possibility. Why was the Stark bastard on Dragonstone? And why was he wearing the sigil of a House that had wronged his fathers so much?

"I would've wished our first meeting to be more cordial, cousin mine."

There was no malice in his tone that he could tell, but mayhaps he was hiding it well. Wondering why he had named him cousin as Baratheon's and Stark's had never wedded one another. Robert had tried to do so, but that had failed his deceased brother spectacularly as the boy he believed was his son was instead the damned Kingslayer's.

"I find it odd you are calling me cousin, Jon Snow. Does your Lord brother know you are here and wearing the crest of a House so reviled they were deposed?"

A small smile came onto the youngers face as he whistled aloud. The two dragons falling from the sky and landing on either side. Reaching out with both hands to pet both of them lovingly like they were puppies.

"That is where you are wrong, my Lord. Please remove your helmet, Lord Commander."

Confusion was whirring in his head, but he still refused to show such a thing. Two men walking over to tie his hands to his back alongside his remaining men. Knowing now they were all prisoners. Better a prisoner than dead he thought quietly to himself. The taller of the two reached up to grab both sides of the helmet and raise it until it was off. At first, the face did not register. But the moment those equally bright purple eyes that matched the youngers looked at him, Stannis knew.

"Didn't Lord Stark slay you in Dorne, Ser Arthur?"

A ghost of a smile was on the older mans face.

"That would certainly make things easier, would it not? But nay, Lord Howland Reed saved me that day without the knowledge of Lord Eddard Stark."

"Yet you are serving Stark's bastard."

"That is where you are young, my Lord. You can figure it out surely from how old he is. And look at his face again, I believe you will see a ghost."

It grated on him both had referred to him as my Lord. Now Robert was dead and the children he believed were his were not, he was the rightful King by all laws of inheritance. Clearly this boy stood in front of him was another pretender to add to the list. He'd already killed his brother with blood magic, his blood was tainted black from being a kinslayer even if he had not wielded the blade himself. The Red Woman could give him another son with ease should Selyse permit it. But he took the words in, staring at his face again and making guesses at his age now he was closer. Definitely older than someone considered a man grown, though not by much. Possibly eighteen given the fact youth still danced on his face like he had never witnessed the harshness of war.

Eddard Stark had sired the boy during the rebellion. He had headed to Dorne after breaking the siege of Storm's End after receiving an anonymous tipoff of the whereabouts of his beloved sister. The very woman his idiot of a brother had started a war over. Granted, war had been a long time coming. Aerys had earned his title, a man as such did not deserve the throne. Whilst Stannis had not believed the rape and kidnap portion of Lyanna Stark- then the coin dropped. Looking at the boy again and seeing contours in his face he had not seen in almost two decades. The eyes were familiar too, being the exact same colour as Aerys' had been. Whereas Rhaella had lilac eyes and Rhaegar's indigo, purple eyes were only noticeable in those who had the blood of Valyria somewhere in their line. Everything suddenly clicking into place like a puzzle that he had desperately been trying to solve, changing everything he had thought he'd known.

Stannis Baratheon threw his head back and laughed at the sweet irony. Wishing his dearest brother was still alive to be faced with the living embodiment of everything he detested. The men beginning to march him and his men towards the castle.