Chapter 48: 163 Miles

The King's room was dark. The blinds had all been closed and scented candles set around the room, supposedly to ward off the illness from any visitors. An area around the bed had been cordoned off by ropes to give visitors a decent amount of space between the King and themselves, and only the healers were allowed within the cordoned section.

Stannis Baratheon had effectively taken over as the monarch, as was his duty as Hand of the King. The smallfolk of Fleabottom had all been moved out of the city and the pyromancers had finished preparing for the demolition of the slum, whilst inside the Red Keep the deaths had slowly begun to drop. That all didn't matter to the Hand of the King though when he saw his elder brother lying in his bed shirtless, with small black boils snaking down his arms. His face was red and sweaty, and his breathing was laboured.

"The Demon of the Trident." Robert said, his voice hoarse and pained. "Sat in his own shit, pissing out sweat." He laughed, before coughing heavily. "How are things?" He asked.

"Fleabottom is ready. The Pyromancers are just waiting on the command." Stannis began explaining. "Deaths are down on yesterdays numbers, but they are still in the thousands."

Robert coughed again. "This shouldn't be my legacy." He mumbled. "I should have died fighting these ice demons Ned is so scared of, not like this with half of my city."

"It's not that bad yet." Stannis insisted. He had meant the city numbers, but Robert mistook the statement.

"I'm done for, Stannis." Robert said calmly. "The Maester's know it, I know it. Here, there's some parchment on the desk. Write this down." He commanded. Stannis did as he was asked. "In the name of Robert, of the House Baratheon. First of… you know the damn titles, fill them out." Stannis did as he was asked. "I hereby command that the succession shall be as followed. Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone shall be my heir, to rule until his own death, upon which point he shall follow the laws of succession." Stannis grimaced knowing that the wording meant Shireen would effectively be disinherited from King's Landing, but he copied it down word for word. "Princess Ellyn Baratheon shall be placed under his care to be raised as fully befits her station, before marriage to a suitable match no sooner than her 16th nameday." Robert coughed once more. "Just keep her away from any damn Lannister." Stannis agreed there too and wrote down the official wording. "Her Grace Queen Walda shall remain at King's Landing to raise our daughter. I won't have her sent back to that cesspit of a castle to be twisted by her family."

"She will be treated fairly." Stannis promised, writing the wishes for the Queen too.

Robert nodded. "Use my seal, stamp it." He ordered, and Stannis did as he was asked. "Good, I can't tell you how to rule, you'll do a damn better job than I did I'm sure but see to it that those wishes are seen to."

Stannis nodded. "You weren't a bad King, Robert." He said weakly.

Robert laughed painfully. "Perhaps not in the last year, but before that? I was, and you can't say otherwise and not be a liar." Stannis went to argue, but he couldn't. "I did want to do better though, that bitch… her betrayal forced me to look at my failures." He sighed. "Just, swear to me that you'll look after Ellyn."

"She is family, Robert. She will be well looked after I swear it." Stannis nodded.

"And…" He coughed again. "Stay vigilant. The Targaryen girl and her dragons."

"What about her?" Stannis asked.

Robert grimaced as he moved to sit up slightly. "She'll use my death as an opportunity to cross the Narrow Sea, I am sure. Put an end to her, for me."

Stannis said nothing, and Robert groaned in pain again. "Stay strong, brother. I'll fetch the Maester." He said quietly.

Robert nodded. "And give the Pyromancers the go ahead. Save this city, Stannis. It's up to you now."

Once again the sight of Winterfell in the distance gave Torrhen a renewed burst of energy. After all the time he'd been away from the castle he grew up in he had missed the huge circular towers that stood proudly in the dusk light. Torrhen and his men galloped the last leg of the journey as quickly as they could, coming through the East Gate and stopping inside the main courtyard. Torrhen dismounted his garron and grinned as he looked around the place. His eyes stopped on three women, all holding young children and his grin widened into a toothy one. He saw his son point at him and exclaim "Papa!"

Torrhen briskly moved towards them and embraced his wife fiercely, kissing Mira on the forehead before he took hold of his son, Asher. "My, you've grown!" He exclaimed childishly, placing a kiss on the almost 2-year-old's cheek. Asher grimaced, but Torrhen didn't care as he hugged his wife once more.

"My Lady." He heard Domeric say formally.

Sansa had Sara in her arms, but she put her younger sister down beside the younger's Direwolf and curtseyed towards Domeric. "My Lord."

Torrhen rolled his eyes at the formality as he handed Asher back to Mira and went to hug his Mother. "Hello Mother."

"I'm so glad you're back." Cat whispered emotionally.

Torrhen pulled away and ruffled Beron Stark's hair. "Beron, you're getting big too!"

"I Lord!" Beron grinned widely and proudly, and Torrhen laughed.

"Where is Robb?" He asked. "I expected him to be here."

Catelyn shifted Beron so he was more comfortable in her arms. "Somewhere between Barrowton and here, the last we heard. There was an issue with Lady Dustin. He should be home soon."

Torrhen nodded, grimacing slightly at the thought of Barbrey Dustin and remembering her screams as he burnt down the wooden castle. Shaking his past horrors away however, he embraced both his twin and his youngest sister tightly to complete his reunions. He did look around for his other two younger siblings that should have been at the castle however, a gesture that Mira noticed.

"Rickon and Robin are studying with the Maester." The Forrester woman explained. "And Arya is…"

"Here." A voice came from behind most of them. Arya had a bow slung over her shoulders and was coming from the direction of the archery range. She rushed forwards to hug Torrhen by jumping up at him and wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "I missed you." She whispered into his ear.

"And I you." Torrhen chuckled, setting her down. "And as much as I'd like to tell you the stories of my adventures here in the courtyard, we could all do with a warm meal."

"Of course." Catelyn smiled. "Come, we've had the cooks prepare something for you all."

Cat gestured for all of Torrhen's men to follow her into the Great Hall, and it was only a matter of moments before steaming plates of food were placed in front of Torrhen and his men. The Stark spoke as he ate, detailing everything from the journey, his talks with Mance to standing on top of the Wall. Arya was enthralled all throughout, whilst Cat just seemed concerned about his safety.

"It was fine, honestly." Torrhen told his Mother for the fourth time. "They only threatened to boil me alive three times I believe it was."

"Four." Domeric said with a grin from beside Sansa. "I believe Ygritte muttered it under her breath once she discovered you were married."

Torrhen snorted and placed his hand on Mira's. "She was an interesting woman, but has nothing on you, my love." He kissed Mira on the cheek, causing her to snort with laughter too.

"By the sounds of it you wouldn't be able to handle her." Mira rolled her eyes, causing the table to laugh lightly.

Torrhen held his hands up in surrender, agreeing with her. He finished his last strip of bacon before stretching out and yawning. I think I'll retire for the night." He stated to the table. "I presume with Robb away I'll be needed tomorrow?"

Cat nodded. "There are a few things that could require your attention Torrhen, as well as some reports from Cley Cerwyn."

Torrhen nodded, knowing that those reports from his own castellan were important to him as the Lord of the Causeway. "Very well, I'll meet you for breakfast." He stood up, picking up Asher as he went. "Are you coming, Mira?"

Mira smiled and nodded politely, rising to her feet as well. "Goodnight." She bid the rest of the occupants of the table. Torrhen moved away first, kissing Sansa on the head as he left the room and the wedded couple held hands as they walked towards their chambers, firstly putting Asher away in his own room.

Torrhen just flopped face first onto the bed when he entered his chambers, groaning happily at the comfort of his feather mattress. "I've missed you." He said to the bed. He felt the mattress shift as his wife sat down beside him, and Torrhen felt her undoing his armour gently.

"You've only missed the mattress?" She asked, causing him to chuckle. Once she had undone a few clasps on his back, Torrhen rolled over and stared up at her face.

"Possibly." He grinned. Mira rolled her eyes and leant down for a quick kiss, her hair tickling his face. She then continued undoing his armour, taking his fur coat off first and then dragging him so that Torrhen was sat upright so she could pull off his tarred black leather gambeson. Torrhen was tired and happily let his wife undress him, enjoying the sensations as she pulled off his boots, his undershirts, and his trousers, until before long he didn't have a stitch of clothing left on him. Mira then lay down on the bed beside him, placing a leg over Torrhen's and kissed him more intimately. Torrhen wrapped his arms around her and sighed contently into her lips. "I've missed you." He whispered.

Mira smirked against his lips. "I thought you might have." She whispered back. She pulled away from his lips and buried her face in his neck. "I missed you too Tor."

Torrhen shifted over slightly so he could stare at Mira's face and smiled softly, kissing her once more. The kiss quickly deepened, and Torrhen yanked her gently so that she was lying directly on top of him. Mira giggled into his mouth as the kiss deepened further. Torrhen's body had been quick to react to his wife, and he shifted them both so that he was now lying on top. The pair were breathing heavily now as they took a quick break from the heavy kissing, and Mira was quick to lift her dress up over her hips so that Torrhen could enter her for the first time in months.

A few hours after Torrhen and Mira had retired to their chambers, Sansa had done the same thing. She closed the door gently and moved to get into her night dress when movement on the bed audibly startled her. She quickly covered herself and turned, only to see Domeric waking up on her bed. "Dom. I didn't expect you." Sansa said, catching her breath.

Domeric rubbed his eyes and sat up, his loose-fitting white shirt almost falling off on one shoulder. "My apologies, My Lady. Your Mother directed me here when I retired." He explained.

Sansa sighed, knowing that she should have expected this. "We are married, it makes sense that you should stay here." She nodded, still standing by her dresser.

"I can sleep on the furniture if you'd prefer." Domeric suggested.

Sansa shook her head. "No, you've been away for a long time and you deserve a good night's rest." She took a few steps towards the bed. "Though, could you move over to the other side… I tend to sleep better there." She felt herself blushing as she admitted that.

Domeric nodded with a smile and shifted himself over, allowing Sansa to get under the covers awkwardly. They sat upright for a couple of minutes in silence, not knowing what to say to one another. Domeric suddenly had an idea, and reached over into his satchel, bringing out the drawing of his new banner. "I drew this while I was away." He told her. "I told Torrhen all about it, he told me I should show you, and perhaps you could make this into a reality." He handed her the parchment, and Sansa looked at Domeric's idea of a new sigil. "I don't want to glorify my families past. I want to be the change that can prove to the world that our version of House Bolton can be respected, rather than plainly feared."

Sansa smiled at him saying 'our House Bolton' and leaned in to give Domeric a quick kiss. "Our House, I like that." She nodded, before looking at the drawing again.

"He also suggested I use this as a surcoat and a personal sigil whilst my Father still lives." Domeric explained."

Sansa nodded, working out the designs in her head. "I'll use the navy material we use for our guard's gambesons." She started saying. "And in the centre I'll put the sword." She leaned over and dragged her finger down his chest, starting in between his pecs and pulling away when she reached the bottom of his rib cage. "There."

"That sounds perfect." Domeric smiled. "Thank you."

"It is no hassle." Sansa shrugged, placing the parchment on her bedside table. "I make all my dresses now, and I've even started to make Arya some clothes." She scoffed. "She's so difficult, they can't be too girly, but if I dress her like a boy then Mother will complain."

Domeric chuckled lightly at the rant. "Your hands are perfectly capable." He whispered to her.

Sansa grinned at the compliment and turned to hug him properly. "I've missed you." She said softly.

"And I you." Domeric replied, kissing her neck. They pulled apart and Sansa began to look nervous. "Is everything alright?"

Sansa nodded, too quickly. Domeric looked at her questioningly and she relented. "I just… I know we're married and now we are expected to… you know…"

"You're not ready?" Domeric asked.

Sansa shook her head. "I'm sorry, I really have missed you it's just…" She didn't know what to say.

"I am seven years your senior, Sansa." Domeric explained. "It's understandable that you would have some reservations."

"I'm supposed to grin and bear it." Sansa said unhappily. "And I've spoken to Mira and Wylla about it and they say that it can be fun, but it's slightly different for them, they're of an age with Torrhen and Robb. They learnt together." She sighed. "I don't know what to do, and I'm scared I'll disappoint."

Domeric cupped her chin and made her look at him. "You could never disappoint me, Sansa." He told her. "Yes, I am older. Yes, I have been with a couple of women before, but that means nothing." He kissed her cheek. "I never wanted to marry them, and while our wedding was arranged, I knew from when I met you that I wanted this." He kissed her other cheek. "My Father can hang if he expects me to push you into something you aren't comfortable with."

Sansa smiled softly. "You mean that?"

"I mean it." Domeric insisted, before an idea came into his head. "There is something I can do for you though if you'll allow me to. I swear it won't hurt and it can open you up to the idea that intimacy like this can be enjoyable." Sansa looked confused, and so Domeric kissed her gently, running his index finger down her side starting at her neck and going down her arm. At her fingers, his hand dropped to her leg, still covered by the dress. He ran his finger down the outside of her thigh and over her kneecap. He began gently pulling her dress up until he could feel her bare knee and he traced his finger over it, before running it softly up the inside of her thigh. Sansa tensed up and so Domeric stopped. "If you want me to stop, say." He whispered against her lips. Sansa just shook her head, and so Domeric continued moving upwards slower than before, until her thigh stopped, and he could feel short, coarse hair. He moved across lightly, slowly rubbing until her breath began to hitch and she shifted slightly against her will, allowing him more access. Domeric smirked against her lips and continued rubbing the right spot using just a single finger, easing his wife into their new relationship of intimacy.

The road to Meereen was long, but it was a breath-taking one. The scenery as the small army ventured up the coastal mountains was stunning, and even the relatively homesick Jon was enamoured by it.

"If you keep following that coastline." Dany's voice appeared from behind him. "You'll soon hit the Black Cliffs and Tolos. Further beyond that, and you get to Valyria."

Jon followed the shoreline across the water, but there wasn't any hint of the black cliffs from where they were standing. "Did you ever go?" Jon asked her. "To Valyria." He added at her confused look."

Dany nodded. "I flew over it once, after I lost my husband after the war." Their time together had led Dany to call his other self that, so that she could differentiate the two in her mind. "I wanted to find some sense of belonging after burning his body."

"What did you find?" Jon asked quietly, sensing that this was an emotional topic for her.

Dany stayed silent for a moment, before her icy answer put an end to the conversation. "Death." She sighed once more and turned back to the road. "Come on, we'll be falling behind."

Jon nodded and went to help her up onto her horse before mounting his own, and soon enough they were keeping pace with the majority of the Unsullied forces. They travelled for another hour until the marching stopped.

"What's going on?" Jon asked. He turned to Dany only to see her face turn pale and she had a look of dread. "What is it?"

"They can't, not again." Dany whispered. She kicked Silver into a gallop as they rode between the lines of Unsullied, and Jon struggled to catch her up.

At the front of the army, Ser Jorah and Jory had stopped, staring at a crucified little girl. Jon felt ill, and it took all his willpower to not vomit at the sight of her. "That's barbaric."

"That's just the first." Jory explained, turning to Daenerys. "There's likely 162 more, one for…"

"Every mile between here and the city." Dany finished for him, her eyes growing angry. Jon then heard the cries of the dragons, flying high above them. He put his hand on Dany's shoulder for comfort, happily noting when she put a hand up on top of his and squeezed. "Take her down and bury her." She ordered.

Ser Jorah nodded. "I'll have a squad of riders ride ahead and do the same, you don't need to see this, Khaleesi."

"I do." Dany corrected him. "You will do no such thing. We will march together, we shall bury the children together. Take their collars off and collect them. We shall return them to the Masters of Meereen with a vengeance."

"My Queen." Jorah bowed, as he put the orders into action.

Jon felt Dany squeeze his hand again, and he took her into his arms from behind. "We'll make them pay." He whispered to her.

"This happened last time." Dany said painfully, and Jon knew she was tearing up. "I hoped I never had to see this again." She took a deep breath and turned around in Jon's arms. "They will die, Jon. All of them."

Jon felt uneasy at the statement, but he brought her into his chest and soothed her, watching as the little girl was taken down from her bindings and swearing to his gods that somehow, these children would be avenged.