A/N: So this is me, sliding this update in right under the door in great haste and at the last minute, because grad school has completely taken over my life. As such, Anne and I wrote the bulk of this chapter today, so we hope it doesn't feel too rushed. Please be sure to let us know what you think!

Also, for clarity's sake - in our story, Imry Florent escaped the Blackwater alive, but injured. So he decided to take up the lordship of the Keep. Enjoy the chapter!

"Pardon, my lord," the maester called. "A raven, from Castle Black."

The Night's Watch? Lord Imry Florent asked himself. What would they want with us?

He limped over to accept the raven from his maester. "Thank you, Maester Omer." Since the Battle of the Blackwater, he had decided to go back home to recover from his injuries, and subsequently took up the lordship of Brightwater Keep, after his brother Axell was burned by that Red Woman his sister Selyse and brother-in-law Stannis Baratheon kept so close. He brushed off the memories. He was an offering to the Lord. All is well.

Curiously, he hobbled back over to his chair - his damn leg still hadn't healed properly since the Blackwater - and opened the seal of the black crow. He had to read the missive three times to be sure he was reading it properly, but when he was certain of the words he read, he leapt up, the pain in his leg now suddenly gone as he rolled it up tightly. "My horse, at once!"

/*/

After Margaery had left his quarters, Jon found himself making more frequent trips back and forth between the training yard and the slightly emptier room. The Lord Commander didn't know what had gotten into him lately when it came to that woman…after Ygritte, he never thought he would be able to look at another woman again, especially not with that same intensity. But there was something about Margaery that kept pulling him back, no matter how much he resisted.

As he was walking back to the training yard, he noticed that there was significantly less activity than the last time he'd come out of his chambers. There were the usual men at their posts, but no one had stopped to talk, or was just walking across the courtyard. Jon frowned, but then had a sneaking suspicion as to where all his men had vanished to. Making a slight detour, he made his way over to the mess hall and found more than a few men actively trying to pretend they weren't listening to Margaery reading to Little Sam. A few - namely Pyp, Grenn and a reluctant Edd - weren't even pretending not to be listening in avidly.

Jon allowed himself a fond smile. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but Margaery managed to attract anyone to her side. These days, even when she was walking alone, it was a rare occasion when someone made a derogatory comment. Of course, that didn't mean that Jon didn't still hear them occasionally, but at least the men had learned that Margaery wasn't someone they could harass without consequence. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing himself to be lost in the stories of Dunk and Egg again, listening to her voice as she cooed to Little Sam...

Gods, he needed a distraction. He turned to go back towards the training yard, and was not surprised to find that Ghost had joined him, even if he hadn't heard the direwolf approach. A chuckle escaped him as he reached down to pet the direwolf. "Still keeping an eye on our guest, are you, boy?" The white beast nosed up against him for a moment, before silently padding off into the mess hall, laying down at Margaery's feet.

She paused in her reading to greet the wolf, turning back to see Jon. He noticed that his heart skipped a little more this time when their eyes met - harder than it ever had before.

Yes, a distraction was exactly what he needed. He resolutely stalked off to find some dummies he could cut to pieces.

/*/

The best thing about the Vale, in Sansa's opinion, was the fact that it had an actual Godswood. Though she'd stopped praying to the Old Gods a long time ago, the mere presence of one of the heart trees was enough to calm her. They reminded her of home, of sitting on her father's lap as a little girl and listening to him explain what it meant to believe in the Gods.

Back in King's Landing, almost no one would bother her when she pretended to be praying. Here in the Vale, people respected her wish for solitude for the most part - after all, she was no one of consequence here - and the godswood provided the only bit of companionship she had, even if it came from the Gods who had abandoned her and her family. At least they didn't try to manipulate her like Lord Baelish did, or make her irrationally angry as Robin Arryn's childish ways often did. And her aunt… well, it was clear her aunt wanted her far, far away from here.

As she gazed up at the carved face in the heart tree, an idea sparked in her mind. Her aunt Lysa didn't want her here, and neither did Sansa want to stay… what if they could both have what they wanted? All she would have to do would be to ask her Aunt Lysa…

Soon, there were approaching footsteps. "Pardon, my lady. Your aunt wishes to see you."

That was convenient, Sansa thought. "Did she mention the reason?" Sansa asked, even as she stood to follow the messenger.

"I believe she wanted to dine with you, my lady," the man replied.

Perfect. All Sansa would have to do was lead the conversation in such a way that her aunt's jealous nature would incline her to send Sansa away. "Thank you," she said.

But the dinner didn't quite go as Sansa had hoped.

As Aunt Lysa talked about how Catelyn had been as a child, Sansa had let her guard down, and had started to relax. Stupid mistake. Just because she was out of King's Landing, didn't mean she had escaped the spider's web of intrigue and lies. She would have to learn that no one cared for her, and no one would or could take care of her but her family. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

"I'm a virgin, I swear it!" Sansa insisted, even as her aunt kept her vice-like grip on her arm. "He loves you Aunt Lysa!" she lied. Lie faster. Lie better, she told herself. "All he says is that I'm stupid! I'm a stupid little girl, with stupid dreams who never learns, and I'm a terrible liar, so I should always tell the truth," she rambled. "And I swear to you that he's never touched me, not once, not ever!"

Lysa's face relaxed ever so slightly as she stood up and pulled Sansa closer. As if her embrace could ever soothe a wolf. "Shh, shh… it's alright, it will all be alright," she said, her voice too smug to come close to being at all kind.

With her face pressed uncomfortably against her aunt's stomach, Sansa heard her take a breath to continue. Now was the moment! "I know it will be Aunt Lysa, I promise it will be," she said as determinedly as she could. "I could go to the Wall. My brother is there and I would never bother you again! I don't want to cause trife between you and your new husband." The tears in Sansa's eyes weren't forced; this was what she'd wanted for so long. To return home again, to be in the North with her family again…

As she pulled away, she could see that Lysa looked a little taken aback. "I had thought that-" but the Lady of the Vale cut herself off. Sansa could see the calculating look in her aunt's eyes, and knew that she was about to get what she wanted. "Yes. Yes, the Wall will be a good place for you," Lysa whispered. "A Stark belongs in the North, I couldn't keep you all to myself when your people need you, now could I?"

Sansa sobbed again, grabbing onto her aunt. "Thank you…" she managed to gasp. Over Lysa's shoulder, she was smiling. Finally, she was going home.

/*/

It had been far too long since the Tyrells had retreated back to Highgarden, and Loras despised the inactivity. It had been a month and a half since he last saw his sister, and he had no idea where she was, If she was safe - even if she was alive or dead. Clearly, his grandmother knew something she wasn't telling him, which upset him even more.

At that moment, a frantic horse came charging through the gates. Imry Florent was stirring it on, barely stopping in time to dismount. "My lord!" he called to Loras. "Where is your grandmother?"

"Inside, taking her tea," Loras responded. "You have a message?"

The other lord set his jaw. "I just received a raven from Castle Black. It's to be delivered only to her, and no one else. I'm sorry, my lord."

The Knight of Flowers stiffened. "I assure you, Lord Florent, I can deliver whatever missive you have received to my grandmother." Internally, he wondered why his grandmother would be receiving any message from the Wall, and why had it come through such secretive means?

The other man's features hardened. "I'm afraid I must insist, Ser. You may accompany me, and your grandmother may then decide for herself whether or not the information in this missive is to be relayed to yourself."

As irritated as he was, Loras had to admire Lord Florent's strength of character. Here, in the center of Highgarden, Loras could easily order the guards to seize him or simply take the letter for himself. He was a far superior warrior, after all. But something in the other man's stance told him it would get him nowhere. Lord Florent had always been loyal and he wouldn't disobey him for a trivial matter.

Curtly, Loras nodded and preceded the man into the castle. This was proving to be an interesting day after all.

/*/

These days, it wasn't an unusual occurrence for Margaery to find her throat aching. She read to Little Sam - and by extension, the men of the Wall - every day, and it was starting to get tiring. After she'd seen a glimpse of Jon through the door, she decided that her voice would need some rest, so she ended her reading session at the end of the next page. It left the story hanging somewhat, and more than one man groaned at the open ending, but she wouldn't be dissuaded from taking a break. "The story won't have changed by morning," she said jokingly. Though she looked at Grenn and Pyp when she spoke, as opposed to the room as a whole. The other men still didn't want to admit that they had been listening in. Gilly, who had also joined them as a regular listener, gladly took Little Sam from her so she could put him to bed.

Margaery gathered the book and satchel she'd taken to carrying at all times, and set off outside. She wasn't entirely sure where Jon had headed, but she could guess. The castle's layout didn't confuse her so much anymore. She found him outside, in the courtyard, slamming his sword into a dummy again and again. It had been a quarter of an hour at most since she'd spotted him through the door, but he was already working up a sweat. It reminded her in a strange way of Loras, when she would see him in the training yard. Jon was just as agile, and was quite the sight to behold. He wasn't as handsome as Renly, of course, but he was far more attractive than Joffrey.

Margaery mentally shook herself and forced gaze away from the man in front of her. Why in Seven Hells was she comparing Jon to her previous husbands? Then again, she thought as her eyes found him again, why not? He was handsome, intelligent, and just, though a little too serious and brooding at times. But she'd seen him smile and joke as well. There were more sides to the Lord Commander than she'd managed to unravel. Most men were fairly easy to understand. They all had their vices; women, power, drink… but Jon seemed to be a genuinely kind person. "You are too rare a thing in the world," she whispered to herself.

Then, as if he'd heard her - though that was impossible and silly to even consider - Jon looked up, straight into her eyes. Her breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them spoke as they stared at one another.

But then Margaery became uncomfortably aware of the situation and looked down, clearing her throat. "You look like you can handle that as well as my brother," she commented, before schooling her features and taking a few steps closer.

Jon seemed at a loss for words. "Uhm… Your brother… that's… thank you," he finished uncomfortably.

A thought came to her, then, and before she could think about it too much, she voiced it. "Teach me," she said, completely seriously. She looked fierce, and there was a fire burning in her eyes.

/*/

Jon frowned. "Teach you? How to swordfight?"

"Yes. What harm could it do? If I know how to defend myself, perhaps-" she cut herself off abruptly, like she wasn't sure if she should say what she was thinking.

"Perhaps what?" he asked softly, stepping closer.

She sighed. "Perhaps no one will have to die for me again," she said softly, looking no less strong than she had before.

Jon was struck by her spirit. Here was a young woman who'd hardly been able to bear her own weight when she arrived at Castle Black, and now she wanted to learn to spar to save the lives of the people around her. Gently, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "You have to understand, handling a sword is much harder than it looks. I can't go easy on you if you're going to be good at it."

Margaery nodded. "I understand."

Jon smiled approvingly, patting her shoulder. "Meet me in the armory tonight," he said. Her eyes lit up, and that fierce determination shone through her again. "I want to start you off on something else, though," he said, before she got too carried away.

For a moment, her face fell, but then she nodded. She was curious. "If not swordfighting, what then?" she asked.

Jon seemed to smirk in amusement. "Archery."

/*/

A/N: Be sure to review!