Chapter 17: On This Our Wedding Day (Part 1)

Winterfell 304 AC.

Baelon.

He was on his way to speak to Davos when she found him, her worried look taking him aback for a moment and the fact she could barely speak to him, quickly making his own worry grow. Taking her by the hand, he led her to a nearby room and bid her tell him what concerned her so. Missandei took a deep breath before she could speak the words and Baelon did his best to offer her a reassuring look, even though he himself didn't feel that reassured.

"My queen, she's not herself, Baelon, she's shown an upset that I know not from whence it came." Missandei said softly, her concern for Dany clear.

"How long?" he asked.

"An hour, two." Missandei said, frowning.

"Did something happen? Did one of these fuckers say something to her?" he asked angrily and he was glad that Missandei knew it was not her he was directing that anger towards.

"I do not know, I don't believe so. We went to the Godswood, as my queen wished to see it for herself and she spoke to…"

"Bran, she spoke to Bran?" Baelon said, holding back his snarl and looking on as Missandei nodded nervously "I'll speak to the queen, Missandei, get to the bottom of this. She'll be well, I promise." he said and he saw the relief that his words brought and together they hurried to Dany's rooms.

For now, he let worry be all he felt, worry and determination to clear up that worry. Soon he knew that the anger that he felt building within him would need to be released, but for now, it was better that he kept that in check, or as much in check as he could. It was a hard thing to do when they reached Dany's rooms and he saw both Ser Jorah and Grey Worm standing there with their own concerns clear on their faces.

"She's asked not to be disturbed." Jorah said looking to him, Baelon though could tell by that look that he'd not stop him from entering the room and that he'd actually wish him to, though it was Missandei who spoke and not he.

"She'll wish to see Baelon, Ser Jorah." the young woman said softly.

"Aye…"

He heard no more words that were spoken as he opened the door and entered the room. The sight he was greeted with was one that almost broke his heart. Dany lay almost curled up in a ball on the bed, she was hugging a pillow tightly to her stomach and it was clear that not only had she been crying, but she'd cried herself out. Baelon tried not to let the sounds of her stifled sobs get to him, fighting down the anger he knew that a boy he'd named as his brother once was the reason for those sobs. For now, it was Dany and only Dany that he focussed on and he could deal with Bran and would soon enough.

"Dany, Dany." he almost whispered, his footsteps soft and his movements careful as if he was afraid to startle her.

When he looked at her, he saw how she hugged the pillow a little tighter and refused to look at him. He moved closer and heard the loud exhale of her breath when he took his seat on the bed beside her. She then shuddered and tried to move from him when he placed his hand on her shoulder and it caused him to take his hand away, briefly.

"Dany, I'm here my love, I'm here." he said and his words only made the sobs begin again.

He was lost and felt this was beyond him. Never before had he been the one to comfort someone truly and so he was not experienced in doing so. Baelon worried that anything he did or said would make things worse and yet he knew that he had to do something and so he moved further onto the bed and lay down beside her. His arms wrapped around her and he moved the pillow gently away and though she at first moved from him when he wouldn't allow her to do so, she then moved back into his embrace.

"Dany, I'm here, I'm here." he said as his hands softly rubbed her arms and he kissed her neck.

How long they lay there, he couldn't tell, but he felt her still and then relax, and then she drifted off to sleep. She had exhausted herself, the sobbing, the hurt she was feeling, it had all taken so much out of her that she had exhausted herself and sleep had come not because she wished it or even because of his presence, but simply because of that. Her continued sleep though was because of him being there, as each time she woke, he spoke softly to her and told her that he was there and he was going nowhere.

At what time she woke and got out of the bed or how long she'd been up when he noticed it, was something he'd never know. Only that when he himself woke up it was to find her standing by the window and looking out at the darkened night's sky. He hurried from the bed and moved to her, his arms going around her, and once again he felt her move back into his embrace. When his fingers began to brush through her hair and caress her cheek, he heard a contented sigh and then she moved from him and he looked at her in confusion.

"Dany?"

"We cannot be, I see that now." she said without looking at him "I… I cannot bear children, Baelon, I cannot give you a child."

The sound of her sobs did more to him than the words she spoke, Baelon moving to her and turning her to face him before pulling her tight to his chest. He felt each shudder that she made and then heard her surprised gasp when he lifted her from the ground and carried her to the bed. Once there he softly laid her down and again climbed in beside her, this time the two of them laying face to face and his hand brushed away her tears before softly caressing her cheek.

"Talk to me, tell me what it is that ails you so, let me help, Dany, please, let me help." he said and she shook her head and tried to move from him but he wouldn't allow her to.

Why he kissed her, he knew not, only that it stopped her moving from him, and instead she moved closer to him. He felt her hunger, her need, and it was one he shared and yet after some time, she moved from him once more.

"We can't…"

"Why can't we? Who says we can't?" he asked hoping his raised voice didn't scare her or force her from him.

"I cannot give you a son, Baelon, I cannot further our line. You and I….you're the only one who can see that our House doesn't fall…"

"Dany… speak to me, I beg of you. I understand this not, speak to me, make me understand." he said and she looked at him and nodded.

It took her some time to tell him the tale and though he so very much wished to concentrate on the very last part of it, the part where she said that Bran had made her see why they could never be, he knew he needed to deal with the first part before then. A witch had told her that she was cursed, she'd made her believe that she'd never bring forth a child and though she'd hidden it deep within herself, the thing that had once been his brother had used it to drive a wedge between them. Was he not so angered at Bran and worried about Dany, then he'd almost give the fucker credit for seeing what he wished done.

"I died, Dany. My brother died. Yet my heart beats still." he said taking her hand and placing it on his chest "I swore on oath that I'd wear no crowns, hold no lands, win no glory. That I'd take no wife and father no children and though I did so not knowing my truth, I did so willingly."

"Baelon, I…"

"Words are wind, Dany, that's all they are, wind. Mine spoken in front of a heart tree beyond the Wall, that thing that is no longer my brother's or a witch's in Essos. They are nothing more than wind and you and I, we're dragons, when has wind ever stopped us from flying high?" he said as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips, a soft almost featherlike touch before he moved away from her and smiled when he saw her move with him.

"I don't understand." she said confused.

"I love you, do you love me?" he asked.

"Baelon…"

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Do you want to be my wife?" he asked staring into her eyes.

"Baelon, we can…" he placed his finger on her lips and bid her answer him "I want to be your wife."

"Then fuck a witch's words or the words of a cunt that wishes to break us apart. Rickon told me that Bran seeks us not to be wed, Bran told me so myself, he made up some horseshit that wasn't worth my time to listen to and he's long since past being someone whose counsel I heed. I was dead and now I'm not, I was a bastard and now I'm not. You were once a scared little girl and now you've very much not. Imagine what we can do together, Dany, you and I, just close your eyes and imagine it." he said and when she did not, he closed them for her, enjoying the sound of her giggle as he did so.

He looked at her face and could see the expressions change and so he moved to her and brought his lips to her ear.

"We've done so much apart, achieved so much. There is nothing we cannot do together, Dany. No curse we cannot break, no army we cannot defeat, and no obstacle that we cannot overcome. I want you to be my wife, you and only you and together we'll bring more dragons into the world. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion will not be the only children you have Dany, not a witch, not Bran Stark, not the Night King himself will prove me wrong in this. Do you believe me?"

"Yes." she said softly.

"Will you marry me?" he said and she opened her eyes as she nodded.

"Yes, Yes, a thousand times yes." she said and he moved to kiss her, feeling her arms wrap tightly around him as he did so.

She wished to lay with him as he did her and yet he would not. Instead, he held her in his arms and spoke to her as she drifted off to sleep. His words were of their wedding, of wishing it to be held as soon as it could be and of the night they'd share once it was. He made her laugh when she asked him if he was truly so eager for them to be wed and to be abed and his answer showed that he was. As she finally slept, he moved from the bed and made his way to the door, quietly so as not to wake her.

"She's better, Missandei, you should go get your own sleep. I'll speak more to you later, but know that she's better and that she'll be grateful to see you on the morrow," he said to a relieved nod and then he was surprised when the woman hugged him before leaving.

The next morning when she woke, it was to find him already awake and looking down at her. He kissed her once more and laughed when she said that she liked being awakened that way and then he heard the knock on the door and opened it to allow Missandei inside.

"Her grace has much she wishes to be done, Missandei, a wedding that needs to be prepared for and one we wish to have most quickly." he said and he found it hard to tell which of them smiled most truly, Dany or Missandei.

"Then most quickly it shall be." Missandei said as he moved to kiss Dany on the cheek and told her that he'd be back later.

Walking from the room, he did so without a smile on his face, and the peacefulness and contentment he'd known but moments earlier were now gone. Instead, it was anger and a sense of purpose that he felt as he moved through the keep and walked out through the main doors and into the courtyard. He was surprised to see him sitting in the chair where he was and had expected it would be the Godswood he'd find him in and yet it suited him far better that he was here. Around him the courtyard was full and he barely heard it when Tormund called out his name or noticed it when Ghost ran to his side, so focussed was he on the boy in the wheeled chair and what he wished to do to him.

He believed he saw a smile on Bran's face, a small smirk that may have been unnoticeable to some and yet very much was not to Baelon. Seeing it only inflamed his anger which was already begging to be let loose and so loose it, he did. Baelon moved to the wheeled chair, his steps purposeful and quick and his intent clear to any who knew him well. Standing in front of this thing that had once been his brother, he took a breath, and the moment he heard Bran's voice, he acted.

"Jon I…"

The hand moved to Bran's neck so quickly that it stopped him in mid-word. Baelon lifted him from the chair one-handed and kicked the chair down to the ground, before bringing around his other hand in a backhanded slap, it would not be the last slap that he struck him with and each one of them was punctuated by angry words as he began to beat the crippled thing with no intention of ever stopping.

"I fucking warned you!"

"I told you what would fucking happen if you interfered in my life again!"

"You think I believe your fucking lies!"

"That I'd allow you to spout them to her!"

"Did you see this in your fucking future? DID YOU!"

Again and again, he struck Bran, his hand crashing into his face and the blood beginning to splatter onto him from here he'd broken the skin. Around him people looked on in shock and in his head he saw images of Ramsay Bolton and the beating he'd given to him after the Battle of the Bastards.

"You think you can manipulate me? Make me see what you want me to see? I fucking told you what I'd do should you try. So call your fucking ravens Bran, call them and see if they can save you or stop you from getting what you fucking deserve!"

He knew he was shouting, that his words rang around the courtyard and that soon people would come to stop him from actually killing this thing that had been his brother once. Before then though he'd ensure that the message was sent loud and clear and that the next time the Three-Eyed Raven thought to play with his life, he'd reconsider before he did so.

"Baelon!"

"Baelon!"

Ser Davos' voice called out and Baelon barely heard it. He did hear the men from the Riverlands as they moved towards him and so he took the hand that he had been beating Bran with and drew Longclaw before turning and facing them.

"You do not want to interfere with me!" he said loudly and the men looked back to where their liege lord stood and then hesitated, even more so when Ghost moved and stood between Baelon and them.

Around the courtyard men and women looked on as he lifted Bran even higher in the air, the bloodied face clear for all to see and for the briefest moment, Baelon thought about driving Longclaw into Bran's chest. It was the sound of his sister, his brother, Arya, and Rickon running to him, and then it was the feel of Tormund's arms as they wrapped around him and the words he spoke to him that more than likely stayed his hand.

"He's not worth it, Jon Snow, you've done enough." Tormund said and Baelon looked from Tormund to Bran and to Rickon and Arya who'd been joined by Sansa before he then dropped Bran to the ground and moved away.

"Someone see to that." he said, his voice full of disdain and he spat down barely missing the crumpled form that now lay on the ground. "Next time no one will stop me, remember that well before you look to me or mine again."

He walked away and past his brother and sisters, a small nod of his head to let them know that he had calmed and he knew that he'd have questions to answer later. Baelon was thankful that while Sansa looked shocked and worried, Rickon and Arya did not and even Sansa seemed torn between Bran and himself. By the time he reached the doors that led into the keep, Missandei, Grey Worm and Jorah stood there, and not one of them looked at him with any doubt or concern, Missandei even offering him a warm smile and a nod as he passed her and headed back to Dany's rooms.

He felt Ghost when he joined him and after finally sheathing Longclaw, he looked to his hand to see the blood that it was covered in, none of it his and it brought a smile to his face that he wore even when he entered Dany's rooms. She lay resting in the bed and so he moved to the bowl of water and began to wash his hands, taking a seat beside her, he then spent the next few hours just looking at her as she slept and waiting for her to wake so they could speak and he could know that she was feeling well.

Later he spoke to his brother and sisters and told them what Bran had done and why he'd beaten him so severely, only Sansa raising an objection and that not for the reasons he would have expected. When it was suggested to him that he take Davos to Cape Wrath as he'd planned to do days earlier, he'd told them, no, only to have Dany too make the same suggestion. Time away from the keep and doing something where he didn't need to be reminded of Bran and what he did, was what he needed, Dany had said and so reluctantly he agreed and did as he was bid.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Sansa Stark.

She had been in tense situations before. She had to stay with a drunk and rambling Cersei during the Battle of the Trident. She had had to break her fast with her Aunt Lysa and Baelish after a night of hearing her Aunt screaming like a banshee on her wedding night. She had to withstand the insufferable meals with the Boltons, when she knew that she would deeply suffer from whatever humiliation would be thrown at her husband by his father afterward.

Yet nothing came close in comparison with the uncomfortable dinner that was taking place in Rickon's quarters at this very moment. Her little brother was on the verge of exploding, as was her sister, and the unemotional battered face of Bran did nothing to help the situation. Instead, it simply reminded all of them of what happened earlier that day, as did their annoying guest.

"How do you feel, Nephew?" Edmure asked, genuinely concerned for Bran while both Arya and Rickon rolled their eyes, knowing what had caused his current condition.

"I am fine, Uncle, still a little bit shook, but fine."

"Shook. Right." Rickon scoffed.

"I cannot believe that the Ba… he did that to you." Edmure said, shaking his head.

"He's had it coming for a long time. I hope you'll know no to shut your mouth when nobody asks for your council." Rickon said angrily.

"How can you say that?" Edmure exclaimed, looking at Rickon with a horrified expression. "Your brother did nothing wrong!"

"Whose brother are you talking about?" Arya frowned.

"Why, Brandon! He was the one who had been viciously attacked!"

"Because once again he meddled in things he shouldn't have." she retorted and Sansa had to agree. Seeing the distraught face of Daenerys and her almost defeated demeanor was enough for her to know that Bran had all but broken her spirit.

"I must say I am pretty surprised that it didn't come sooner with the way Bran announces… disturbing things to everyone he talks to." Sansa said as she took a sip of her rabbit stew, hoping there would have some meat in it that day.

"So you're not going to defend Bran's honor? This… Baelon or whoever he thinks he is should be punished for his insolence!" Edmure declared as Sansa's hand gripped her bowl while tightly to keep her temper in check.

"What insolence? I had tried to smack some sense into Bran myself. Then I almost got killed by ravens." Rickon shrugged nonchalantly.

"All is well, Uncle. I bear no ill-will to Baelon." Bran said. "I understand his frustration and as my siblings say, I have lost the diplomacy necessary to announce things."

"Look at what he did to you! To his supposed family! And all of you act like it is acceptable? Your Mother would be ashamed of all of you, but especially of you, Rickon." Edmure admonished.

That was the wrong thing to say, especially to her youngest brother, and Sansa dropped her spoon, bracing herself for what was about to come.

"Well, Mother is dead, and if she wasn't, then I wouldn't fucking care about what she thinks about what is fucking acceptable or not!"

"How dare you speak of my sister this way? Has the bastard poisoned your mind against your own mother as he has against your brother?"

"Baelon did nothing of the sort. If anything, your sister is the only one who poisoned my mind against her. She fucking abandoned me and Bran to get herself killed at the fucking Twins!" Rickon snapped.

"She was trying to get her daughters back, and to avenge your father!" Edmure protested.

"What about her sons? What about us?"

"She thought you dead! She mourned you, by the Seven! There was not a time she would not think about you and Bran." Edmure said loudly as he defended his sister.

"Thinking about us is fine, but leaving a boy to rule a keep for moons, moons! Without any news from his mother, that is totally messed up." Rickon retorted.

"Rickon is not wrong." Bran said, to everyone's surprise. "She could have come back, yet she didn't. She was afraid of Robb making the wrong decisions and not following her counsel, so she stayed with him and refused to leave when Robb bid her go back to Winterfell."

"See? Even the prick agrees with me!" Rickon said with a snort.

"She thought you safe at Winterfell, she…"

"She was wrong and it almost cost us our lives." Rickon cut their uncle off harshly.

"That's enough, all of you." Sansa intervened. "Uncle, we know that Mother loved us and that she did her best for us, but to recall her memory will not make us act against Baelon."

"Your Mother always believed that he would cause trouble. And trouble he did cause. He has almost killed your brother has he not?."

"Believe me, Uncle, if Bran would have felt in any danger, he would have -" Rickon started but Bran cut him off, showing annoyance for the first time.

"How many times will I have to say that I didn't mean it, to make you believe me?"

"You tell me. You're the one who sees the future. I bet my fucking hand that you knew what would happen with Jon."

"What are you talking about?" Edmure asked, startled by his nephews' bickering.

"Oh, so you haven't heard yet? I thought you would have tried to get to know your nieces and nephews' reputation before meeting them for the first time." Rickon answered, smirking.

"The second, for me." Arya rectified. "I was the one to give him the key to his cage at the Twins."

"Oh, that's right. So, according to people from the Vale, we are monsters and murderers. All of us. Even sweet Sansa over here." Rickon said with a laugh.

"Especially me, you mean?" she chuckled darkly. "For have I not killed their Liege Lord's Regent and caused our dear cousin to die from anger."

"Robin… Is dead?" Edmure stuttered and Sansa resisted the urge to call him out.

Of course, her dear brother wasn't one for diplomacy, particularly when he disliked someone, and he seemed to despise their uncle greatly. Not that she could fault him on that, since he never acknowledged their existence as far as she was concerned. She could still remember her Uncle Brynden's message brought back to her by Brienne and the disgust she felt at Edmure betraying his kin, long before she had almost betrayed hers.

"You really are a shitty uncle. No offense, but you are." Rickon spat.

"I will not let a green boy talk to me this way!" Edmure replied, understandably offended.

"This green boy as you say is King in the North, Uncle." Sansa reminded him curtly.

"He may be king, but he will never unite the North and the Riverlands as Robb did, not with that attitude!"

This revelation piqued Sansa's interest. The mere notion of it reminded her of Littlefinger's plans. Did Baelish have time to put this silly notion of a union to Edmure before his death? It certainly didn't come from Robin, as since her uncle was so oblivious to his death then he surely had no contact with their other kin.

"What care should I have with the Riverlands, if I have to deal with people the likes of you?" Rickon spat.

"Rickon, please, do not let your anger get the best of you." Bran said placidly.

"Isn't the Riverlands part of the Kingdom of the South, Uncle?" Sansa enquired, hoping to be as subtle as possible.

If the look of embarrassment from Edmure wasn't telling enough, the words he'd uttered next were.

"It was. Before I knew of the Queen's plan to marry a bastard."

The growl that came from Rickon and Arya was expected. The one coming from her, however, startled Sansa a little. Baelon was not a bastard, and should he still be her father's son instead of her aunt, well she had long since gotten over the status given by the name imposed on Jon Snow. He was her brother and had done more for her than some of her trueborn siblings.

"And this would justify you breaking your vows to Queen Daenerys, to risk earning her ire and directing it towards the North and our family in particular?" she asked frostily. "Do you realize the significance and the implication of your actions?"

"Well, you made her accept the North as a separate entity, and she gave the Iron Islands their independence, so one more kingdom -" Edmure began before she interrupted.

"The Iron Islands are a kingdom on its own because of a deal she struck with Asha Greyjoy in exchange for her help and her ships. And the only reason that Daenerys Targaryen is envisioning the North as a principality, and not a kingdom of its own, is because she is marrying our brother!" she retorted, stressing the last words so it could stuck in her uncle's mind. "You know? The one you keep calling a bastard?"

"He is not your brother." Edmure said dismissively.

"Say that again and I swear to the Gods I will fucking gut you where you sit." Rickon warned.

"You would turn against your Uncle, against your family? You would become a kinslayer, all for this bas… for this boy?"

"Try me." Rickon challenged, pulling his dagger out for good measure and making Sansa shiver at the way he crouched over the table, ready to pounce at their uncle should he dare to do so.

Looking around, she could see Arya acting the same, a dagger already in her hand and showing that she was at the end of her patience. As for Nymeria, who was near the door, she had started walking dangerously towards Edmure. Sansa was also enraged by Edmure's comments, but she was not as short-tempered as her siblings and she knew that threatening the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands would not do.

"I don't think you truly understand our ways, Uncle. Baelon is a part of our family. I'm sure you've heard tales about Rickon being brought back to life." she said and ignored the scoff Edmure threw her way. "It is true. All of it. We owe Rickon's life to Baelon because he never gave up on his family and would not accept his death. He has proven many times the true meaning of Family, Duty, and Honor. Can we say the same about you? Or do I need to remind you about what happened to Uncle Brynden when you gave up on him and gave Riverrun to your enemies?"

Her words seemed to have the desired effect, as Edmure hung his head with shame.

"You don't understand. You don't know how it feels to be a prisoner. They tortured me, taunted me with my son, and threatened his life. I had to do what was needed to be done so that we could both survive."

"All of us suffered, Uncle. Some more so than others. We have another chance to be a family, a real one. You and your son are as much family to us as Baelon is. Now is not the time to ask us to choose between you or him, for we shall unite our forces to defeat what is coming for us, and you will be disappointed by the choice made today." Bran suddenly said and she stared at her brother in disbelief. Was he truly defending them? Was he siding with them in choosing Baelon over Edmure?

However strange this intervention was, it had the effect of changing the room's atmosphere. Sansa was about to lose her temper at her uncle's selfishness and took the momentum to rein it in for the moment. Rickon and Arya were equally disturbed by this turn of events, frowning at Bran as if trying to figure out his real motives, and Edmure seemed to ponder his words before sighing loudly.

"I will never think of Baelon Targaryen as family. But you do, and I lost too much of my family to risk losing you, so I will refrain from talking or doing anything against him." her uncle conceded, albeit reluctantly.

"Thank you, Uncle. This is all we ask. Truly." she said, resuming her meal and sighing delightfully as she found a piece of meat.

They ate in an uncomfortable silence and she was glad to see their uncle take his leave and escort Bran to his rooms. She was not in the mood to humor either of them, and she needed to speak to Arya and Rickon about what had almost happened during dinner.

"That went better than expected, given the situation." Arya sighed.

"No thanks to you two. Who the fuck invited Bran tonight?" Sansa asked and frowned when her siblings looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"You just said a bad word, sister mine." Rickon said and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you do it all the time, and I've been dying to curse Edmure out during dinner, so cut me some slack, will you?" she sighed and continued on her rant. "The nerve of that man. Who does he think he is? 'You don't know how it feels'. Does he know how being battered and raped feels? Does he know how running for his life feels? Has he ever had to look at people that you love and care for as they die before your eyes feels like? He was fucking his wife when the Red Wedding happened and now he thinks he can lecture us about his misery? Nothing he's lived through so far compares to what each one of us had lived through. Being captive. In a cell is a bloody luxury compared to all we've suffered."

"You're starting to speak as a true Northern Lady." Rickon added, smiling wolfishly. "You should have told him exactly what you felt, Sansa."

"I couldn't. Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because I can hold my temper far more easily than you, and yelling at him would be playing right into his hands. It would just give him a reason to hate Jon more than he already did. We have to protect Jon and Dany from any bad reputation or motives that others would see them have. People are wary of Jon now, more so because of what Bran did. It's our role to show them all that the fucker deserved it."

"We should turn Edmure in to Dany for speaking treason." Rickon said.

"We can't. It would be a political nightmare to deal with the execution of the Lord Paramount of the Trident. Both for Jon and for Dany." Sansa said shaking her head before Arya interrupted.

"Then I can -"

"No, there's to be no killing our Uncle while wearing Walder Frey's face, Arya. We can keep an eye on both Bran and on Edmure, and if we think one or both of them are truly conspiring against Jon and Dany, then and only then do we intervene. For now, we do nothing and we try to stay courteous to our dear uncle." she said looking to her siblings, neither of whom seemed eager to listen.

"You're playing politics again, Sansa. You know it always turns nasty when you play politics." Rickon said.

"Who invited Bran tonight? None of you, I suppose?" Sansa asked and both her siblings shook their heads. "This is exactly why I have to play politics again. Bran is up to something. His leaving with Edmure was no coincidence. Can you warg to watch if they're still talking?"

"I can't. He can feel my presence."

"Arya?"

"I can't do it apart from Nymeria." the latter lamented.

"It will come to you, Sister." Rickon said encouragingly while Sansa's heart clenched as she thought about what she could have done if Lady was alive.

Seeing Arya with Nymeria made her incredibly happy for her sister, but it also reminded her of the loss of her companion, and she longed for some of what Rickon, Jon, and Arya had. Sansa truly desired a strong connection with a familiar of her own.

Nymeria came over to her, probably feeling her sadness, and she smiled at the Direwolf while caressing its fur.

"With your leave, brother. Jon's cloak is not ready yet and I want to make sure it is upon his return. Knowing how he is, I am almost certain that the wedding will take place as soon as he lands." she chuckled, making the others laugh wholeheartedly.

She walked back to her rooms with the Hound in tow, grateful that he had not left her side and relieved the obligations of the day were over. Sansa had been working on her brother's cloak with Wylla who had been more than happy to talk to her about her aunt's time in the Tower of Joy. To think that Lyanna had been a free spirit who had still enjoyed sewing and crafting as much as sparring with the Kingsguard and that she was a song and tales enthusiast brought a smile to her face. Her aunt was a sort of perfect mix between Arya and her, and it made her wish she'd gotten to know her, which in turn brought her a kinship with Jon she'd not felt before. She hoped her present to her brother would have would made her happy, and that it would be appreciated.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Melisandre.

She strolled through the camps, looking for any sign of trouble to report to Queen Daenerys and King Rickon. People were getting used to her morning and evening walks and she knew where she could and could not go. She didn't get too close to the Dothraki tents, as they feared her too much because of her use of magic. The men from the Reach looked at her warily, as tales of what she did to Renly circulated once more. As for the Westerlands and the Riverlands, it was Arya they watched warily especially since the Northern Lords had made her involvement in the Freys' death as revenge for the Red Wedding known.

She was amazed at Arya's restraint and loyalty to her brother, for Melisandre was certain she would have already been dead were it not for her Prince. The assassin had made her intention and her mistrust clear as soon as she could and the Red Priestess couldn't fault her for that, knowing that she had almost ended the young woman's friend's life.

Their collaboration, fortunately, had nothing to do with Gendry Waters' fate, but thanks to, or rather because of Baelon's request before his departure.

The incident with Bran Stark, as well as the anger her Prince still felt towards the boy, had prompted him to take his distance from Winterfell to clear his mind from all his rage. He took the opportunity of the promise he had made to Ser Davos of reuniting him with his family for it, and while his family understood and encouraged him to do so, Queen Daenerys felt guilty of the whole ordeal.

"Will you watch over my betrothed for me, my Lady?" he asked her and she nodded. "I thank you. I already asked my siblings to do so, but I want to make sure that she has no interaction with Bran."

"I understand, my Prince. I will do as you bid me to."

"I also need you to watch the newcomers for me. Edmure Tully despises me and Daven Lannister hates everyone related to my late brother Robb. We need them on their best behavior and to be ready to fight the Others."

"Anything else, my Prince?" she asked and frowned when he smirked.

"Aye. Make peace with Arya while I'm gone."

"Easier said than done. Your sister is a stubborn little thing."

"I know, but at least talk to her. For me."

"Very well, for you, I will try."

"That's all I ask."

Baelon had then embraced Daenerys and his sisters, before stating out loud that he would be back for his wedding which prompted his betrothed to smile and blush. While Sansa Stark and Missandei had quickly started speaking about what to be done, and soon after he was gone, Arya came to her and suggested their first patrol.

They were both greeted by the Unsullied speaking in broken Valyrian and Melisandre smirked at the young woman's surprised face when she responded in kind.

"The God you served is not the only one using this phrase, Arya Stark of Winterfell. Although it is a way for a Faceless Man to get recognized by others so as not to be bothered in their missions. For the Unsullied as for the priests of R'hllor, the notion of servitude is ingrained in us since our childhood. While they acknowledge your past by greeting you this way, this is also a way for them to remember that their fate is not in their hands."

"Everyone controls their own fate." Arya retorted harshly.

"Is that so? Is that why I am not dead by your hand yet? Am I not on your list?"

"My brother asked me not to kill you." Arya said petulantly.

"Yet had he not asked you to do so, I would still be breathing. I have seen my death, child, a long time ago, at my first initiation by fire after being sold to the temple of Asshai. It has never changed since. Whatever choices I made, whatever wrongs I committed, my end is still the same and it is not coming by your hand."

"Does it make things easier for you? To know about your death?" Arya asked, looking genuinely interested in her answer.

"It does, in a sense. It drove me to my purpose without fear. Even if I knew I would die in Westeros, I left my home and my temple because my Lord gave me a mission."

"Aye, find the Prince That was Promised."

"Indeed. Azor Ahai reborn." she said happily.

"You thought he was Stannis."

"And I was wrong. I did things for him to gain power. Unforgivable things." she said while shaking her head in regret.

"Now you think it is my brother. Will you burn people alive so he could be victorious?" Arya asked angrily.

"Only the dead ones."

"How can I trust you? How can I be sure you're not after my brother's blood, as you wanted Gendry's?"

"I did want your friend as a sacrifice, but I acted on his uncle's request. We both know that my Prince would never ask something of this extent to me."

"I still do not trust you."

"Gendry is alive, Arya Stark. You should enjoy spending time with him instead of trying to find reasons not to speak to him." The Priestess said and shook her head at the glare she received. "I wish I could have loved ones to share my last days with people I could call friends. Cherish the bonds you have, for it makes you stronger."

"You said… Your last days?" Arya frowned, pausing in her walk to stare at her.

"I told you I know of my fate."

"Do you know of mine?"

"I can look into the fires if you -"

"No." Arya cut her off quickly. "I would not be able to focus if I knew. I… There's only one thing to say to the God of Death."

" Tubi daor. " (Not today) Melisandre replied, and for the first time since they met, the wolf girl smiled genuinely at her.

She was glad to see her advice being followed the next day when she looked on from afar as Gendry and Arya bickered at the smithy. He was crafting Dragonglass weapons and she wanted one for herself. She had obviously thought long about it and had to show Gendry a demonstration of force to have him agree to make it for her. Melisandre watched with interest as the smith looked at Arya's retreating face with a bright smile before his whole demeanor changed when he spotted her watching.

"What are you doing here, my Lady?" he asked, visibly uncomfortable.

"Watching you, Ser Gendry. It seems the fire you use for iron melting is not hot enough."

"With the cold weather, it is indeed less than what it should be, and it takes more time for it to melt." Gendry said relaxing somewhat.

"Do you wish my help? I can use my Lord's blessings to solve your problem."

"I would rather not. No offense, my Lady, but the last time you talked to me about fire, you wanted me to go in there to burn, and this is the last place I want to be in."

"I understand, and I would have asked for your forgiveness had I thought you would give it freely. We both know you do not trust me, though I am glad you found your way back to your friend. I would ask for Thoros to help you with the fire." she offered.

"I do not trust Thoros either. He sold me to you."

"We have a common enemy and your role in the fight to come is very important. More important than I thought it was when I first saw you. I know that now."

"So, you will not try to take my blood or to burn me anymore?"

"Only if you ask me nicely." she said seductively, winking and laughing at his shudder.

"Leave the poor boy alone, my Lady!" Thoros' amused voice rang out in the smithy. "As you said, we need the lad, so now is not the time to make his heart stop."

"That was not my intention, raqaros ." (my friend) she retorted with a smile.

"Come, my lady, there are things we need to talk about."

She followed the priest to the Brotherhood quarters, where Lord Beric Dondarrion was waiting for them. That Thoros had been able to bring him back so many times still impressed her, especially knowing that Thoros was not a firm believer of the Red God and had been forced to follow him until he first revived his friend. It seemed that R'hllor was most attentive when his priests doubted him. Melisandre too had almost lost faith until she realized her successful attempt at reviving Jon Snow.

She knew then that he had been someone important for the fight to come, but the extent of his importance was lost to her until the moment she saw him ride Rhaegal. A hidden Prince was not something she'd ever thought of finding in Westeros, yet everything she'd done had led her to him, and to the Wall. She just wished she hadn't had to walk the path she had taken beforehand, as so many people had died because of her.

Shaking her head, she sat in front of the fire, waiting for one of the men to start talking.

"Do you feel it, my Lady? Do you feel the nights going on for longer than the days?"

"I see it, Thoros. Even more, since our Prince left, and I am starting to feel the cold in my bones." she said as she shivered slightly.

"He shouldn't have left. Knowing what is to come, we shouldn't have let him -" Thoros began but she interrupted him.

"He needed to." she said curtly. "And he will be back before the Long Night. Emotions are creating chaos here, first with the reveal of his birth, then with Brandon Stark's attempt at breaking the alliance between the North and the South."

"Any idea why he did that?" Beric Dondarrion asked.

"He said that bad things would happen to the Prince and the Starks should Baelon wed the Queen. That he saw the fate of his family and he is adamant that they will face destruction." she replied.

"Yet he can't see how to end the Night King." Beric mumbled.

"Apparently because he's hiding from him, but there is something disturbing in the boy. Something I cannot figure the truth of." Thoros added.

"The boy had been touched by the Night King before getting away. King Rickon told me so when our Prince was at the Wall." Melisandre explained.

"Do you think he's controlled by the Great Other?" Beric wondered.

"No, but he shall be watched all the same." she answered.

"I looked into the fire to see if he was right. I asked the Lord of Light to show me the fate of Westeros should Daenerys and Baelon marry." Thoros said.

"What did you see?" she asked, curious.

"Nothing, but I felt a peace I've never felt before. Their union is blessed by R'hllor." he replied with confidence, which relieved Melisandre.

"Our Prince doesn't trust Brandon Stark. His powers are dangerous and if he is set on separating them, I fear what Baelon would do to him." she said a moment later.

"What can we do? We do not even know the extent of his powers." Thoros lamented.

"We should ask Rickon Stark about him and them." Beric declared. "He too has some power of his own. If you combine your forces, then you'll be able to protect the prince."

Melisandre nodded and thought about the King in the North's changed since he came back from the dead. He gained in assurance a lot through the moons he'd been separated from Baelon, yet she could feel he was still fragile despite his icy demeanor. Contrary to Brandon Stark, he was driven by his emotions and it troubled her greatly.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Bronn.

When Tyrion had made him the offer, he'd considered it carefully. Had he still been Hand of the Queen and still in her favor, then he'd probably have even come up with a plan to see Jon Snow dead. Tyrion was no longer in favor, far from it and so when he had agreed to give him Highgarden, Bronn had known that he was lying to him. It was something that normally would have led to a man's death. Not for the lie itself but for reneging on a deal with him or not paying him his due. The only reason he'd not killed him then and there was that it served him better to have him alive for now.

Leaving King's Landing and making his way to the North had been simple enough. The sheer mass of men that were doing so had made it easy for him to blend in and though most of them were not men who liked an ale or a bawdy song, it mattered not to him and he'd enjoyed both on the journey to White Harbor. It was upon his arrival there that he saw her again. The Dornish woman who he'd spent many a night spending to since he'd last seen her.

" You want a good girl, but you need the bad pussy."

It had been a strange thing for him, to be so affected by a woman, any woman. True he'd had his share and other people's shares too, but none of them had ever been anything more than a good night to him until he met her. No woman had ever played with him and made him actually look and think about her the way that Tyene Sand had done. That she'd saved his life had played its part too. As it would have been just as easy for her to simply allow him to die. Yet still, he'd thought that once he and Jaime Lannister had left Dorne, that would have been the last he'd ever thought of her and certainly the last he saw of her, how wrong he had been.

Since then she'd been in his thoughts far too often, her face in his dreams and at times replacing the faces of the women he lay with. When he'd seen her in King's Landing, it had taken all he had not to go to her, and seeing her again in White Harbor, it was exactly the same. In the end, he'd not needed to as she'd come to him and the night they shared together and each of them since had been like nothing he could ever imagine. No, that was a lie, he'd imagined nights such as these for most of his life, he'd just not ever truly hoped he'd get to experience them.

"You have not risen again?" Tyene pouted and Bronn laughed as he reached over and took the jug, not bothering to pour a mug and bringing it to first his and then her mouths.

"I'm thinking of the future." he said as he placed the mug back on the table and watched Tyene roll over onto her stomach, Bronn for once not looking at the firm arse or the curve of the small of her back and instead, he stared at the soft features of her face.

"And do I play a part in this future of yours?" she asked playfully.

"Aye, if you want." he said catching her by surprise, something she hid quickly.

"So what does this future entail?" she asked and he told her what the Stark boy had told him, the keep that was his by right of blood and how that along with helping to win this war would be enough to set him up for a far more comfortable life than the one he'd known up to now.

Was this but a few days earlier, then he'd have not mentioned the war at all. Had this been something he'd have known about before coming North, he'd care not about the war against an army of dead men and it would certainly not be a war that he'd be fighting in. if he believed that she'd come with him was he to leave, then it still wouldn't be. Tyene though had made it clear that she was to stay and fight with her sister and the Dornish Army and nothing he could say would change her mind.

Mayhap that showed just how truly she'd bewitched him. The fact that it was her safety even more than his own that he was focussed on. It was a first for him, truly. Even when he'd guarded Tyrion or Jaime Lannister, it was always his life that was the most important one. True he'd risk it for them, but only when that risk was one that gave him a better than even chance of coming out of it still breathing. Even when he'd saved Jaime Lannister from the dragon, it had been with such a calculation in mind, and had he for one second believed he'd have been too late or got caught up in the flames, then he'd have left the man to burn and rode on.

Now though it was different, and for the first time in his life, he cared about someone more than himself. If Tyene was to stay, then so would he, and only together would they leave this place, unless she didn't wish to leave it with him that was. He looked at her face, her eyes closed and her lips pouting as she lay beside him and seemed to be considering his words and his offer, though he'd not truly made her one. How long it took her to speak, he knew not, but every second felt like an eternity to him and so when she opened her eyes and looked at him, he held his breath.

"I think I'd like to be the Lady of Darry." she said softly and her next words almost went unheard by him so happy did her first ones make him "It seems you've risen once more." she said with a small laugh.

After they'd coupled and he'd fallen to sleep, he later awoke to find himself alone in the room and so he rose, drank down the remainder of the ale, and dressed and readied for the day. It was as he was on his way to break his fast that he saw him again, the boy looking at him with that same dead expression on his face and it discomfited him as much as it did everyone else. It made him grab his food and take it elsewhere to eat and it was as he was doing so that he began to think about what Brandon Stark had said to him.

That the boy knew things was something that most agreed on, however, there was something about the nature of what he knew and whether or not he told the truth that had become the source of conversation these past few days. Ever since his brother had beaten him and left him lying in the courtyard of Winterfell, people had asked questions. Not as many about why Baelon Targaryen had seen fit to beat a boy in a wheeled chair as one might imagine either. Instead, it had been questions of why not one of the other Stark's had sought to do any more than the barest minimum to see that Brandon Stark recovered. How they'd then argued with any who dared name Baelon Targaryen as being in the wrong and how not just one, but all three of them had said that "Bran deserved it".

For Bronn, it had made him consider the words that the boy had said to him and to examine them more closely. So much so that when he finished eating, he sought out the one man he'd been avoiding since he'd been told about his father, the one man who actually knew Jonathor Darry and could tell him the truth of the man, Jaime Lannister. He found him looking over the defenses of the keep, he and Brienne of Tarth and Podrick, the latter two not best pleased to see him and soon enough leaving him and Jaime alone as they were tired of his quips.

"You truly have a way with people." Jaime said and Bronn chuckled.

"I don't see too many rushing to be in your company." he replied back to a nod of the head.

"True. The king may have made it clear that I hold a role here now, that I hold his favor somewhat, but that only stops fools from seeking vengeance or justice for some act they blame on me or my house. You saw what happened with the Mountain Man?" Jaime asked and Bronn shook his head "He sought to avenge Ned Stark, only to find that not even his son believed him in the right or me more in the wrong than I truly was."

"The attack in King's Landing?" he asked and Jaime nodded "You were doing it for your brother and it wasn't your spear that struck Stark."

"No, it wasn't." Jaime said shaking his head "Now what brings you to me, other than my charm and wit, for I've no more gold to offer."

"So no castle from you then." Bronn said laughing.

"I own only what you see me wear, Bronn, and never have I been richer than I am right now."

He looked at him unsure what he meant for a moment and then saw it more clearly in his eyes, Jaime was content, truly content, and that was not something most men could ever say or live to feel.

"Your brother offered me Highgarden." he said and Jaime's head almost spun so quickly did he turn to him "All I had to do was kill Jon Snow, or who we all believed to be Jon Snow."

"I take it by your telling of this to me that you've thought better of it?" Jaime asked and Bronn swore his hand moved to his sword as he did so, surprising him a little.

"Aye. Not only do I know what comes for us and that he's who we need to fucking stop them, but I doubt I could take the fucker even if I wanted to. I'm good, he's better, and he's not a man who can easily be snuck up on." he said and saw the smile on Jaime's face.

"Not if you don't wish to face a dragon or a wolf, not to mention the man himself."

"Which I don't." he said to a nod of Jaime's head "But while I may have decided not to follow through before he spoke to me, speak to me he did and I…"

"Spoke to Who?"

"Brandon Stark."

The look on Jaime's face darkened so suddenly that it took him a moment to remember that hadn't been his expression when they started to speak. When he felt his arm being taken and he was moved away from the yard and into an empty room, he looked to see that expression was darker still. He watched as Jaime walked around the room, checking it for something he knew not, and then once he was done, he turned to him to speak.

"What did that little fuck tell you?"

At first, he was about to speak on Darry, but instead, he spoke on what had been said regarding Tyrion and his plans to kill Jon Snow and his own part in it. How to speak up about it would lead to his death and that his words wouldn't be believed. All through his tale, Jaime looked and listened and once he was done speaking, then and only then did he make any comment.

"I'll speak to Tyrion and make him see reason." Jaime said and Bronn nodded "If he does not then I'll speak to the king."

"He'll kill him. You tell him this and he'll kill him."

"Mayhap, but only if Tyrion doesn't see sense, and should he not then he's beyond my help anyway." Jaime said resignedly "I don't understand why Bran Stark would tell you not to speak on it though, why he'd say it would end in your death, it makes no sense."

"That wasn't all he said, he told me that my father was a knight. A man of the Kingsguard." he said and Jaime turned to look at him, his words naming it as even more true than Brandon Stark's did to Bronn's mind.

"Jonathor." Jaime said almost reverently.

"You knew?" he asked to a shake of Jaime's head.

"Lewyn had a paramour but I met the woman and you're not his son. The Bold and Gerold would never nor would Oswell and as for Arthur, not only would he not, but there's no way in the seven fucking hells you're his son."

"What of the ones before then?" he asked and Jaime shook his head.

"No, only Jonathor and Lewyn broke that vow. He was a good man, your father, a good man and true and….." Jaime said before seeming to get lost in thought.

"Jaime?"

"Darry, you're the Lord of Darry, the keep is yours." Jaime said laughing loudly "You got your fucking castle after all."

"Aye, I did." he said as Jaime slapped his back.

"Come let's get drunk, Lord Bronn."

"Tyrion, Brandon Stark?"

"Are both worries for the morrow. We should celebrate your good fortune and I'll tell you tales of your father as we do so."

He'd never wished to know the truth about his father and yet as they walked from the room, he found himself eager for every single morsel that Jaime Lannister was about to serve up.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Howland Reed.

Father…

Howland woke up panting and sweating, quickly looking around his room in a panic. Ever since he'd arrived at Winterfell, he'd had the same dream.

He'd seen a majestic Heart Tree, one as big as the one they worship in the Neck, but this one was surrounded by snow. He knew this was the Heart Tree where the Three-Eyed Raven had rested, as it matched Meera's description, yet he had no idea why he was dreaming of it.

Until he saw him.

Jojen's spirit was trapped there, his sad smile piercing Howland's heart like a burning arrow. The guilt he felt at sending his son and heir to that awful place to die was suffocating and he couldn't bear to see him in his dreams, even though he longed for every single glimpse of him. Jojen had known of his fate and had he known too, yet had he truly known what would happen to his children and to Bran Stark, then he would have never agreed to let them go.

Sometimes the death of one boy was necessary to prevent that of many.

He immediately felt regret for thinking this way when his thoughts traveled to Rickon Stark. That lad was innocent, as innocent as Jojen had been, and he wouldn't have deserved to die.

Jojen didn't deserve it either, but he chose to follow his path and Howland couldn't blame his son for doing what he thought was right. He had known of the threat of the dead, of what the Night King would cause to Westeros should he manage to cross the Wall, and he felt it was his duty to bring the last greenseer to the Three-Eyed Raven.

If only he'd known how it would turn out…

The more he looked at Brandon Stark, the more he heard about his deeds and the more Howland was sure that he was not supposed to be this way. He was to be a servant of the Old Gods, as the crannogman was, and the Old Gods always required their servants to observe and not act unless being asked to do so. The Three-Eyed Raven was someone who witnessed and reminded the world of the Pact between the Children of the Forest and the First Men. He was to be the Guardian of the Memories of their ancestors, the keeper of the secrets of the Old Magic, and he was not supposed to use his knowledge to further his gain, which was what Howland thought Bran was now doing.

He had talked to the young man after the incident with Baelon. Not that he really wanted to, but he needed to understand what had happened for Lyanna's son to lose his temper so completely. Howland had waited for the Maester to leave Bran's side and had then gone inside his room with Meera, hoping that what remained from their friendship would be enough to make him talk openly.

"Why did your brother beat you?" Meera asked bluntly.

"He is not my brother. Not anymore. He has chosen his side today."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I warned him that nothing good would ever come from a Wolf loving a Dragon. He chose not to heed my warning and to follow in his mother's steps. Soon, history will repeat itself." Bran answered, looking straight at him and sending a shiver to his spine.

"It can't be. The Seven Kingdoms are united behind them." he said grasping for something to prove the boy wrong.

"Nothing lasts forever, Lord Reed. If we survive the Long Night, then war will break out because of the dragons' lies. The South will turn against the Queen and my brother, and my family will pay the price for it. Before the battle for the Dawn, a terrible thing will -"

"Stop right there, brother." Howland was startled as Rickon's icy voice rang into the room.

"People need to know what is going to happen." Bran retorted.

"Was Jon's warning not enough? Do I need to threaten you myself so you'll finally stop your fucking games?"

" I'm just looking out for our future, Rickon. For our family."

" Well, focus your energy on looking out for a way to rid us of the Night King. Though I doubt Jon will trust you now that you tried to sabotage his marriage. Are you fucking stupid or do you have a fucking death wish?"

" You need to listen to me, brother." Bran pressed.

" It's already too late. You won't change his mind. He is going to marry her whether you like it or not. If you want me to believe that you have Jon's interests in heart, truly, then let him do what he wants. And if something happens, then you and I will act. Not beforehand."

" You'll never act against Jon if he loses himself."

The words that came out of Rickon's mouth made Howland tense and seemed to get Bran's undivided attention. He heard the sounds, the harsh clicks that some of the Free Folk who didn't speak the common tongue made, yet it was nothing compared to the Old tongue he'd heard so far.

" Is mise Rickon an Stark mac Eddard, mhic Rickard, mhic Edwyle, mhic Willam, mhic Beron, mhic Cregan, mhic Rickon, Mhic Benjen, Mhic Bael, Rí taobh thall den Bhalla." Rickon started and Bran narrowed his eyes at his brother while the latter continued. "Is mise an Rí sa Tuaisceart, sliocht Chéad Rí an Gheimhridh, tá fuil an Mac Tíre agam agus iad siúd a chanann amhrán an domhain ag sileadh i mo chuid féitheacha agus geallaim do na Sean-Déithe go gcoimeádfaidh mé mo bhriathar. Cosnóidh mé mo theaghlach, fiú uathu féin. Ar thalamh agus ar uisce mionním é, mionním é ar chré-umha agus iarann, mionním é ar oighear agus ar thine."

Brandon's expression grew somber and Howland could see that the lad was truly shaken by his brother's words. Mayhaps he'd been troubled by the fact that Rickon knew of the Old Tongue, which wasn't truly shocking regarding he'd been raised by a Wildling for years, or mayhaps it was the words he'd said to Bran. Whichever it was, the new Three-Eyed Raven only nodded before asking them to leave.

" Make sure no one except from the Maester and one servant only goes into this room. Not even the Queen can interact with my brother, is that understood?" Rickon ordered the men guarding the door who nodded in turn.

" Will you come and see me, Rickon? Can I at least see my family? Or will you push me away like he did, when all I care about is the Pack's safety?"

The king in the North tensed then sighed loudly.

" Only if you promise to keep your mouth shut from now."

" Thank you, brother. Thank you for not giving up on me."

Rickon's gaze softened as he glanced not at his brother, but at Howland's daughter, and left the room without any more words.

For days Howland had tried to understand the meaning of Rickon's demeanor. He knew the young king had made a promise to Meera to see if Bran was still worth saving, for Jojen's sacrifice to not be in vain, but he still felt there was more to the story than what he believed.

He walked into the large sparring yard that had been transformed into a training camp, looking at his daughter who was using a trident made of ironwood and Dragonglass to fight against Lyanna Mormont. Howland was glad to see her getting included warmly by the Northern Ladies and surprised to see both the Stark girls and the Queen joining in on one of her lessons. There was not many moments to laugh for Meera since she had come back home and to hear the sound he'd missed so much coming from his daughter warmed his heart.

" Meera was born first, Father. Had we been born in Dorne, she would have been your heir. She deserved to be the heir." Jojen had said to him once and seeing her lead the fighting lesson that day showed it clearly. Howland just wished that Jojen didn't have to die for him to see the truth of it.

"Lord Reed?" he heard from behind and was surprised to see the Queen's advisor. "Are you well?"

"I am, my Lady. Thank you for asking."

"I noticed that you always place yourself on the outskirts of the yard as if you're always on high alert." she pointed out and he smiled, noting her observations qualities. "Should we fear an attack?"

"Not that I am aware of, my Lady. Though where I live, we always are vigilant about our surroundings. So this is a habit that is hard to lose."

"Oh yes, Lady Meera and King Rickon have talked to us about the Neck. It seems like an interesting place to visit." she smiled politely, though Howland noticed the uncertainty in her voice.

"Well, once the fight with the Army of the Dead is over, I would gladly invite you and your Queen to visit Greywater Watch, if you don't mind the humidity of the swamps. Not everyone in the North enjoys it, though it is a place full of wonders." he said and her face lit up at his words.

"I thank you, my Lord. For the invitation and the hope. I look forward to visiting the Keep with my Queen and my… companions. With your leave, I am going to train now. Your daughter is a diligent teacher and a credit to your House. And, she is less scary than Lady Arya." she chuckled and he couldn't help but agree with her words.

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