Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: Good Counsel

Winterfell 302 AC

Tormund Giantsbane.

"How would a giant mistake you as her baby?" Rickon asked curiously.

"Because he looked like a giant's baby?"

"That makes no sense. No sense at all."

"Wait until he talks to you about Sheila…" Lyanna said joining in the conversation they were having.

"Tormund! You didn't? They're only children!" Davos yelled, horrified, while Rickon, Lyanna, Alys, and some of the other child Lords kept mocking the Free Man.

"I haven't said anything to them about Sheila, Onion Knight." Tormund said, shaking his head, his broad smile perhaps clear evidence of the lie he was speaking.

"I heard him tell this story while he challenged a man from House Manderly in a drinking contest. The man didn't like what Tormund gave him." the Umber kid said.

"It was fine goat's milk. You Southerners don't know what's really good to drink."

"It was supposed to be an archery lesson, Tormund." Davos chastised.

"I just said to the Umber lad that unless he is close enough to shoot at the dead fuckers, he would need giant's milk to help him get some strength, or we would all end up as meat for the Night King. Not my fault if they wanted to know how I knew about giant's milk!"

King Pup, as Tormund called him, had asked every able man, woman, and child to try and find a suitable weapon to survive the battle against the dead. While Rickon was skilled with a blade, some like Alys Karstark were deadly with an ax. Lyanna preferred the bow and Ned… Poor Ned would not stand a chance against a boneless wight.

Tormund had to give it to the lad, he was tenacious and didn't want to be left behind, but there were people born to fight and people who weren't, and Ned Umber was definitely from the second batch.

He enjoyed spending time with the little ones when they were sparring or training. There, they were all equals and didn't have to care about the burden of being a Lord, a Lady, or if what they did was proper or not. Rickon especially was different during those moments, being able to talk freely with his subjects and beat up Ned Umber during spars did a lot of good to the lad.

Jon had to explain why they had chosen Rickon instead of him, who was a trained warrior better fit to rule, another Southern thing that made no sense to him. The fact that Rickon was a child made him wary at first, but he later found out that he was just as much of a wolf as Jon could be. The Stark in him was intensified by the way he'd been raised, and that it was by a Free Folk woman that he wanted to honor made Tormund respect the king even more.

Most of the time when he guarded the lad, he would be asked to come inside and to teach him how to fight while being questioned about growing up North of the Wall and on some things that his adoptive mother had told him about. The boy's thirst for knowledge about Northern history and Free Folk tales was even stronger than his desire to fight. The lessons Tormund heard Rickon take with Davos were boring and would not help for survival in real life, but the king in the North was eager to listen to whatever the man was teaching him about the Seven Kingdoms.

He looked around him and almost growled when he saw the woman watching them from afar. He had been sorry for Sansa Stark when he first knew her. The girl had thought she had lost her entire family and had been wed to a bastard in the real sense of the word. Soon enough her facade fell and she began acting snootily toward everyone, especially Jon who tried his best to protect and fight for her. He had understood when she asked before the battle to forget about their little brother. Beyond the Wall, everyone would fight for their own survival. He even tried to explain this to Rickon, who in turn told him a saying from his family.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

"I'm more of a lone wolf," Tormund had said.

"But you survived because you were with the rest of the Free folk, right?"

"I survived because I knew how to fight. Those who didn't got killed, even when being in large groups. You have to think about yourself first. Being with family will not prevent you from dying."

"I know. I just… I thought we were a pack. Father, Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya, Jon… Even Mother. They taught me to stick with family, for it was the only thing that mattered, but it was all a lie. Father left us first and the girls went with him, then Jon, then Robb, and Mother… They left us all alone, Bran and I. And Bran didn't want me with him. He abandoned me too. He sent me to the Umbers and they betrayed me. I know that it doesn't make sense for a lot of people, but when I saw Jon riding to save me on the battlefield, I felt that I mattered, that someone cared about me and it felt… Good… Then I heard that Sansa was alive and what she said about me… It was as if she had killed me another time." Rickon said his lips quivering and fighting tears as he finished speaking the words.

"You're a tough little lad, Rickon Stark. You learned the hard way that life is unfair. but this is the only one we have… Well, except for you and your brother, you lucky fuckers." he said, making the lad chuckle. "You and Jon have been blessed by the Gods. Which ones, I don't fucking care, but what I know is that there are not a lot of people who can have a second chance like you two. So stop hanging onto the past and live your present, King Pup."

"Aye, I'll try. Being a King is a pain though when you want to live…"

"Aye, but you got a lot of kneelers to boss around." Tormund said with a chuckle.

"Fair enough."

"Do you think you could… Ya know… Order the Big Woman to be nicer to me?"

"You mean Brienne?"

"Aye, Brienne," Tormund sighed dreamily as he thought about all the things they could do together.

"I don't think she likes your manners. Maybe if you learned to be… More like her and less… Like you…"

"Like me?" he asked confusedly.

"Maybe try to take more baths, or not to be so intense in fixing her when you eat. It's kind of creepy, you know?"

"I'm trying to show my manliness!" he said puffing out his chest.

"Well stop it! It is gross and uncomfortable to watch you do that."

"And how am I supposed to gain her attention?"

"Talk to her, maybe? But not about the gross things like drinking giant's milk from the giant's tits or fucking a bear!"

"What the hell am I supposed to talk about, if I can't tell her of my feats?"

"You should ask Davos. He's married."

"But you said -"

"I'm ten, Tormund. I know nothing about courting a woman." Rickon shrugged his shoulders as he spoke and Tormund felt he made a decent point, not that he'd allow him to win that easily.

"Isn't that what you do with the Lady Bear?"

"Who, Lyanna? Courting? Eww! No! she's not a woman, she's my friend! She… Eww!" Rickon yelled, visibly disgusted, which made Tormund laugh heartily.

"It sure as hell looks like it!"

"Wait until I tell her what you said. She will kick your ass for that!"

"Who, the little Grumpkin? HA! You both are way too short to beat Tormund Giantsbane!"

The conversation, as usual, drifted to friendly banter, all mention of Sansa soon forgotten even though Tormund hoped he had helped the boy a little.

The Stark Lady was a pain though, constantly trying to give her opinion on things she didn't understand. It was like she was made from a different batch than Rickon, Jon, and those who named themselves lords and ladies of the North. Unlike Rickon, she didn't mingle with them and she clearly despised his kind, which didn't make her well-liked around him. Her time was spent between trying to get the last word during the king's council and whispering with that leech of hers and those who claimed they had won their last battle for them.

Looking at those knights and how they were training, they didn't stand a chance against the army of the dead. Although Rickon had tried to let them know that their little games where they were riding horses with that lance of theirs wouldn't help them win the war, they kept doing as they pleased and Tormund hoped that he would be the one lighting up their asses before they were added to the Night King's army. Or that the wight expedition would make them realize that they were not japing.

He still couldn't believe that Rickon had sent one of his lords to capture a wight. Sure, the man was a fucking idiot, but Tormund had to admit that Rickon had played him well. He laughed internally as he remembered how the Lord reacted when Tormund and Nessa came to escort him. He had thought Rickon wasn't serious, that he would change his mind once he would apologize to him, which he did privately during the night, the coward. Not even assuming his words and owning them in front of everyone.

Unfortunately for the man, Rickon Stark wasn't one to be swayed easily by honeyed words. Rather than softening his heart, the Glover's action made the boy king more determined to see him gone. That he had been tasked to wake the fucker up unceremoniously before dawn so he would travel early made Tormund happier than he'd ever been.

The mood had shifted since the Lord and his men's departure to the Wall. The knights from the Vale knew they were on borrowed time in the North. If Rickon didn't need them to fight against the Dead, he would have already sent them away. The rest of the Northern Lords admired their king's ruthlessness and so they complied more willingly to his demands. They brought part of their food stores back to Winterfell, went on hunts to supply meat with the Free Folk hunting parties. Those that were called the smallfolk shared recipes with some of the women from his clan who had decided to stay until Jon's return. If it wasn't for the bunch of stuck-up cunts from the South, he would have had faith in what Jon had told him before he'd left.

" You'll always have a place to stay here, Tormund." Jon said as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

" I doubt it."

" Rickon respects you and your culture. He will never ask you to kneel and he knows what's coming for us all. Should anything happen, you'll find your number of allies will grow in the North."

" They hate our guts, Jon."

" They'll learn to understand you. They will have no choice, for their King will ask them to. Until then, protect my brother from those who would wish him harm."

" Why can't you kill them?"

" Sansa said we cannot openly do it, even though the man always shadowing her was the one to sold her to the Boltons." his friend's annoyance was clear in both his tone and his expression as he spoke.

" And she hasn't cut his pecker yet?" Tormund frowned.

" Politics, my friend. We need his men for the fight to come, and they'll leave if we kill him."

" I hate it."

" So do I, but I have to leave to get the Dragonglass. We need it to win the war against the dead. I will ask Davos to stay also, but I would feel better if I knew you were watching over Rickon."

" Aye, Jon. I'll stay with him until your return."

He'd seen the change, thanks to the boy King, and he'd grown to like some of those people he had despised for so long when the Wall separated them.

The little ones had abandoned the bows for close combat sparring and Tormund smiled watching the boy king. As always, he paired himself with the Mormont girl, and their fierce demonstration in the yard reminded him of scenes he'd seen more than once in his village when a man from his tribe wanted to steal one of the Spearwives.

"Now that's what I call courting, King Pup!" he cheered and laughed when both of them blushed furiously.

"If you don't stop with this courting nonsense, I swear to the Old Gods that I will fucking shoot you right in your fat hairy arse!" Lyanna growled menacingly.

He was about to make a snarky reply when he spotted movement from the battlement near them. The Stark girl was gone, but the shady fucker, Smallfinger if he recalled correctly, was watching them while furiously talking with a girl he believed was a servant. Instinctively, he walked closer to Rickon who noticed the shift of his mood.

"What's wrong, Tormund?"

"I don't know, but stay on your guard."

"Ghost isn't there… There's something going on."

"Your Grace! King Rickon! Men from House Glover were spotted on the road!" a guard yelled as he ran to them.

Rickon ran to the courtyard where his sister was already waiting and he followed the boy with the rest of the children.

"They shouldn't be back already," Davos whispered to him.

"I know. They arrived at the Wall a little more than a week ago. It looks like they rode back as soon as they arrived." he replied annoyedly.

"I do not like it one bit. If Glover comes here empty-handed… Rickon will have to make good on his promise." Davos said, looking to the gates.

"Well, the fucker would deserve it."

They didn't have to wait for long to see Lord Glover entering the courtyard, his smug face getting on Tormund's nerves, but it was Rickon's gasp that captured his attention.

"Meera?" Rickon exclaimed happily.

"Your Grace, I know you said that I shouldn't come back before finding proof of -"

"Meera?" Rickon said even louder now as he ran to the woman standing at the back of the marching men, completely ignoring Glover's words. "Sansa, it's Meera! Meera Reed!"

Tormund frowned as the name sounded familiar to him. The way Rickon and his sister reacted made him think hard about who the woman could be, though it was the name that was pronounced by Sansa Stark next that made him freeze in shock.

"BRAN!"

Dragonstone 302 AC.

Melisandre.

The fire had been the first clue that there was far more to Jon Snow than met the eye, no, that wasn't entirely true. It was the second. Bringing him back had been the first clue and yet even before then she'd sensed there was something special about him. It had been why she'd urged Stannis to bring him to his side and why she'd then tried to do the same. Melisandre now thanking R'hllor for her failure to do so as much as she'd begged him to allow her to be successful at the time. When he'd woken on that table and had breathed once more it had reinvigorated her faith. Not even his words that he'd not seen a thing while dead had been enough to limit the joy that she had she felt in her heart.

During the march to Winterfell and on the eve of the battle when he'd asked her not to bring him back should he fall, she knew she could and would not comply. Each day spent in his company showed her that he and not Stannis was who they needed to lead, yet still, she doubted somewhat as despite bringing him back from the dead, she'd been wrong before. Far too many times she had been wrong and it had cost her so very much, the girl's screams were now added to the sounds of her own when she slept at night.

" Melony lot seven" the words sending a chill down her spine.

" Father, Please, Please Fatherrr." the girl's cries breaking even her shielded heart.

She had needed something, anything to show her that while she had made mistakes, she'd done so in her god's name. There would be no forgiveness in this world for what she'd done to Shireen Baratheon, she had never even sought it. Instead, she'd prayed that when she saw her god's face for true that she'd find his forgiveness and favor then. So perhaps she'd seen more in Jon Snow than she should, the voice in her head would say. Only for the more she saw, the more the truth had become clear. It had been his will and her god's favor that had brought his brother back and his blood that had made the flames rise higher than she'd ever seen them rise before. Not Gendry's blood, Shireen's, Stannis's own, or even Rickon Stark's had contained the power that Jon Snow's did and so now as they sailed to a place that she'd come to many years before, it was to the flames she looked.

"I prayed for a glimpse of Azor Ahai and all he showed me was Snow." she said almost bitterly and yet the smile she wore on her face showed the truth of her feelings.

By the time they reached Dragonstone she was convinced and even seeing the dragons in the air and finding out that Daenerys Targaryen had arrived, didn't change her mind. Seeing how the green dragon seemed to be drawn to Jon Snow only made her even more certain and upon hearing the girl from Naath speak all her queen's titles, Melisandre had responded with her own. The argument it had led to between her and Jon Snow may have lost her favor if he was not starting to believe it somewhat himself.

" What was that all about?" he asked angrily as they stood in the room he'd been given for his own.

" What?" she asked, shaking her head.

" Don't play fucking games with me, I'm not in the mood."

" The Dragon Queen wished to intimidate you by listing her titles and accomplishments, I simply reminded her that she's not the only one to have achieved things."

" The Undying, the Resurrected?" he said glaring at her.

" Is it not true? Are you not living and were you not dead?" she asked and she watched how he flexed his hand, something he did when nervous or when he was trying to hold in his temper.

" It was not your truth to tell." he said a moment or two later.

" But you accept it's the truth?" she asked curiously and saw the small nod he made before he moved on to what really bothered him.

" The Prince that was Promised?"

" I believe you to be Azor Ahai reborn, the Prince that was Promised and the man who'll Bring the Dawn." she said firmly.

" As you did Stannis." Jon Snow snorted.

" I was wrong."

" As you are now." he said, shaking his head.

" I believe not, but more than that, I know you believe it too." she said and for the longest time, there was no response as Jon Snow just paced the room before eventually turning to face her.

" From now on you speak no more on me without my permission, is that understood?" he asked and she nodded "Tell only what can be found out through other means, for I know not who here we can trust and fear the answer to that is no one."

" I believe your fear is unfounded, my princ e." she said to a glare, though a far less intense one that she had faced moments before.

Melisandre had watched as he grew frustrated that the advice he'd given had been ignored somewhat. The Greyjoys and the Dornish had perhaps too many issues with his House and maybe even him himself to accept his words, though the Lady Olenna did it seemed and so she had stayed when they had left. As for the Dragon Queen, she had sought him out more than once and they'd spoken often. Melisandre watched them both carefully as they tip-toed around what was really on either of their minds.

When they were given leave to seek out the Dragonglass it had been a surprise to Jon Snow and yet not to her. The Dragon Queen's interest had been perked by her prince and if only things were different, then it could be something she could work with. Had his brother not been named King in the North then perhaps a match could be sought between them, there was certainly an attraction there and while Jon Snow had been far less sullen and dour since his brother's return, he was even less so when he spoke to Daenerys Targaryen.

Yet it was not to be and so she and Jon Snow along with the Northmen began to work on mining the Dragonglass. Finding such a large amount of it had been a boon and unlike other men in his position, Jon Snow worked just as hard as anyone to gather as much of it as he could. Within a week they'd almost gotten enough to fill the ship and she knew he'd seek to send it to Winterfell once he did so. Whether or not he'd be on said ship was another matter as other than the Dragon Queen, Melisandre felt he'd found another reason to stay on this island. More than once she or someone else had come across him brooding on the cliffs, or so she had thought until today when she finally spoke to him about being there.

"You do that well, my prince."

"Do what?"

"Brood." she said, bringing a smile to his face.

"I've been told so once today already, but I'm not brooding, my lady, far from it." he said and she saw him then, the Green Dragon flew alone and not more than a few hundred feet away from them, and it was showing off.

"You knew he'd be here?" she asked curiously.

"He's always here." Jon Snow said happily and she looked on in amazement as the green dragon then flew over their heads, close enough that she felt the wind from his wings and ducked her own. Only for her to turn to see Jon Snow had not and she swore she saw him raise his hand to touch the dragon as it flew by.

It was two days later that they found the drawings, Melisandre having lost sight of Jon Snow in the caves only to hear the gasp that echoed from a crevice up ahead of them. When she reached him and saw what it was he was looking at she almost fainted. Yet it was the words that Jon Snow said that really made her sure that he was the chosen prince and Azor Ahai reborn.

"I saw these in the fires when you used my blood. All of it, the island, the cliffs, Rhaegal and this, I saw it all." he said his words not spoken in disbelief or in doubt.

"I only saw us on the island, Jon Snow. I saw you and me on the island and in the caves and nothing more." she said and he looked at her.

"We need to look again." he said and she nodded eagerly "First we need to show this to the queen, she needs to see what it is that comes for us all."

"Has she believed you up to now?" she asked and he shook his head.

"Then perhaps she will not believe even this, my prince." she said worriedly.

"She must." he said determinedly.

It turned out that she was more right than Jon Snow was, Daenerys looked at the drawings but still didn't believe what she was told. Not even Jon Snow telling her why else would he be here mining something as worthless as Dragonglass seemed to do the trick. The thorny issue of the North bending the knee and Jon Snow's refusal to even countenance such a thing almost leading to an argument that perhaps would have cost them any hope of Daenerys's aid. Yet through it all she'd seen how they'd both looked to each other, both willing the other to make a move that neither of them was ready to make.

Her god worked in mysterious ways though and never was this more clear than when they left the cave. The sight of Lords Tyrion and Varys, the looks on their faces, and the way the dwarf could not look at Jon Snow, all of it making her sure that the news they bore would work out in her prince's favor. So it proved to be true.

"What?" Daenerys asked.

"The ships carrying Lady Greyjoy and Lady Ellaria were attacked. We believe them lost or prisoners." Tyrion said as he looked to the ground.

"Grey Worm, the Unsullied?" Daenerys asked worriedly.

"No word yet, your grace. They'll not have arrived at Casterly Rock by now." Varys said.

"You've lost me my allies, this stupid plan of yours has cost me Dorne and the Iron Islands." Daenerys said angrily.

"The plan was…"

"What, sound, true? You heard what Lord Snow said, what he thought of your carefully thought out plans." Daenerys said looking not at Tyrion or Varys but at Jon Snow "What would you have me do?"

"Your Grace, I…" Jon said, shaking his head.

"I'm losing, do you think Cersei Lannister will give the North aid? I'm asking for your advice Lord Snow, advice that has kept me one ally while others have cost me two." the side-eyed look and the tone she spoke the last words with showing just how far out of favor this had found Tyrion Lannister to be and when the dwarf decided to speak up, Melisandre rolled her eyes.

"Our enemies…"

"Your family you mean." Daenerys sneered before turning back to Jon Snow "I'm asking for your aid Jon Snow, I'll not forget it if it's given." She added her words much different now and Melisandre smiled as Jon Snow moved forward and stood a little straighter.

"Then I am yours to command, your grace."

Winterfell 302 AC

Rickon Stark.

"You should not be here."

These words sank into Rickon's mind as he struggled with his feelings regarding his brother's return. Bran had changed, but Rickon would have recognized him anywhere. His time Beyond the Wall didn't change his features much and for a long time, Rickon had been having dreams of his brother, seated inside a cave and surrounded by roots as white as the Weirwood trees of the Godswood.

"Hello, Sansa." Bran looked exhausted, probably because of the journey, and Rickon was surprised by his lack of expression when their sister hugged him while holding back her sobs.

Sansa's reaction had warmed Rickon's heart. He could feel her genuine relief at seeing another member of their family coming back to them, and part of him felt happy to witness this moment. Things had been tense with Sansa but he couldn't deny that she was making efforts toward him. Seeing her with Bran made him think that maybe he had judged her too harshly.

The surprised look on Bran's face when their eyes met halted his joy to see him alive, and the words his brother had uttered hurt him beyond measure. He found that he couldn't breathe, feeling as if the wound that got him killed had reopened somehow.

"What did you say?" he asked angrily.

"You should not be here. You were not supposed to be alive." Bran said, his voice monotonous and devoid of any emotion.

"Bran! " Meera gasped, horrified, while Sansa threw a worried glance in his direction.

"I need to go to the Godswood. Something is not right. Meera, take me to the Godswood."

Meera smiled apologetically at Rickon as she started to take Bran from the cart, Sansa moving to help her and looking as lost as Rickon felt.

Did his brother just tell him that he should be dead?

"Is it really your brother? Bran?" He heard Tormund say and he nodded, no words able to come out of his mouth. "Come with me, lad, I think you need something strong to drink."

Tormund led him to his solar and handed him a skin as Ghost sat at his feet. Goat's milk was an awful beverage, but as the liquid went down his throat and burned its way to his stomach, he was grateful for the feeling it brought him.

"Easy, there, little Pup! We can't have you drunk today. Jon would kill me if he knew I let you have some of this."

"I'll not tell." Rickon promised, grimacing as he felt the warmth in his stomach. "Thank you for that."

"So, your brother lives… it's beyond belief…" Tormund said more to break the quietness than with any true feeling he thought.

"You don't say."

"It's… Great… Isn't it?"

"I guess it is. He's alive. That's a good thing." Rickon said, his words hurried and unsure.

"You want to deck him, right?"

"Am I so obvious?"

"I am starting to know your moods, King Pup." Tormund said chuckling.

"Did you hear what he said?" he asked angrily.

"I didn't, but judging from your face it was not a good thing."

"He said that I was not supposed to be alive…" the hurt in his voice shocked him, though he much preferred Torrmund's reaction.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Tormund yelled furiously.

"I don't know, but he didn't sound like he was happy to see me."

"Maybe he's heard of your death and it was just the shock talking?"

"Still, that's not a way to greet his long-lost brother." Rickon sighed, feeling the numbing of the goat's milk wash away as the pain resurfaced.

"You're right. It's a shame that he's a cripple."

"Why?"

"Because you can't deck him if he's already down." Tormund said wiggling his eyebrows as he spoke the words.

He shouldn't have laughed at that, truly he shouldn't have, but he did as he then imagined himself trying to hit Bran, his laughter dying down when a knock interrupted the moment.

"Your Grace, Meera Reed asks for an audience with you." He nodded and gave her a small smile when she entered, her eyes darting around the room and showing her discomfort.

"So, King in the North, huh?" she chuckled nervously and his smile grew sheepish. "Do I now have to curtsy?"

"Fuck off!" he said and ran to her, hugging her tightly.

"Look at you now! All grown and a King! Who would have thought?" she exclaimed while making him turn.

"Certainly not me."

"I am glad to see you hale and healthy." she said and her eyes wandered once more around the room. "That's not Shaggydog."

"No, that's Ghost, Jon's Direwolf. He's been with me since my family took Winterfell back and freed me from the Boltons. I lost both Osha and Shaggy because of the Umbers of whom Bran had assured me were on my side." He tried not to sound bitter at the end, knowing he'd failed by the look on Meera and Tormund's faces.

"Oh," she whispered, the implication being clear for her. "I'm really sorry, Rickon. Truly."

"Again, it's not you who should apologize. Summer? Jojen? Hodor?"

She looked away and shook her head, making Rickon's heart break. Hearing the loss of his fellow companions was hard, but that was nothing compared to what Meera might have felt losing her brother. He knew that feeling all too well and couldn't help but want to comfort her.

"Here, woman. Drink this. Looks like you need something strong." he had almost forgotten about Tormund when Meera had spoken, but he was more than thankful for his presence. Meera took the skin and cringed after taking a big gulp.

"What is this?" she asked before coughing.

"Goat's milk. From North of the Wall. Never heard of it?" Rickon frowned when she shook her head. "Where were you?"

"It's a long story…"

"Well, you better start talking if you plan to get some rest soon." he said as he sat on the floor, making her smile sadly.

"I'm sorry for what Bran said to you earlier. "

"You don't have to apologize for him. You're not the one who said it." he said, his bitterness and hurt at what his brother said threatening to come to the fore.

"I know but he's… Changed. There's no better word to say it. He's not the Bran you knew anymore and I feel I am partly to blame for that. If I hadn't brought them to that place…" Meera's sadness was clear in both her tone and expression.

"What place?"

"The giant Weirwood tree. the place he saw in his dreams. The last hiding place of the Children of the Forest and the Three-eyed Raven."

"The one from his dreams?" Rickon frowned, remembering his brother and Jojen Reed talking about traveling beyond the Wall to look for answers. "You found him? And you saw the Children of the Forest?

"I wish we didn't…" she lamented before explaining what had happened when they had separated. The dead attacking them, Jojen dying, then Bran being tasked by the Three-Eyed Raven to be his successor to help the side of the living, which had apparently turned Bran into an emotionless know-it-all.

"He knows things he shouldn't, from the past, the present. He can now see what could come to pass. Every single bit of history from Westeros. He told me about your sister's troubles with the Boltons. He told me of Jon's death and his return to life. About you dying too… But he never saw you coming back, that was why he was troubled." Meera said as a way of explanation and apology for his brother, an apology he was not willing to accept.

"He knew? He knew and did nothing to prevent it?" Rickon asked, feeling his anger grow.

"We were stuck in that cave, surrounded by the army of the Dead. We couldn't send any raven." Meera said defensively.

"How did you get away? How did you manage to escape from the cave?"

"Bran did something… He… He gained the attention of the White Walkers and we had to flee. The Three-Eyed Raven, Summer, the Children… They sacrificed themselves so we could live. So Bran could live. And since it happened, he's lost all emotion. All that matters to him is to find a way to defeat the Army of the Dead."

"What happened to Hodor?"

Meera glanced nervously at Tormund who understood that she wanted to talk to Rickon alone and so left the room, Rickon sure he now awaited outside.

"Remember what Bran could do with Summer? And what he did to Hodor when we were at the mill? The day we saved your brother Jon." Meera asked.

"Aye, the warging." Rickon said, shivering at the memory of the first time he saw Bran force his way into the sweet giant's head. Hodor was completely terrified and Bran… Bran was ecstatic to possess such a power. Osha had warned Rickon about what a powerful warg could do and how getting into people's heads was prohibited.

"He did it more than once. To fight against wildlings, against the dead… Poor Hodor was less and less himself at the end… I… When we had to escape the cave, he warged into him because I told him we needed him to fight. He left him to buy us some time. I… I told him to hold the door, and he did… I saw him… Being torn apart by the dead…" Meera's voice cracked and Rickon instinctively took her hand to give her some comfort, his heart aching both for what she had to endure and the brutal loss of his companion. "Later, much later, Bran said that Hodor was prepared for his fate. That he knew from the moment we fled Winterfell what would happen to him and that he sacrificed himself willingly because he had to be protected at all cost, as the Night King would want to kill him for his knowledge."

"You mean he used Hodor as a distraction, to be killed by the dead?" Rickon asked, dumbfounded by the thoughts of his brother being so callous.

"I… I don't really know, Rickon. But he is the Three-Eyed Raven now, and the first one told me the same bullshit about my brother. That as a greenseer Jojen knew he was about to die out there so that Bran could be the man he is now. I remember all the times Hodor panicked when he saw the dead. All the times that Bran forced him to fight for him… And he didn't even shed a tear ever since we left that cave. Not even when we saw your uncle Benjen."

"Uncle Benjen is alive?" Rickon said, feeling a jolt of shock course through his veins..

"Sort of… He was raised from the dead, by the first Three-Eyed Raven, and just as the dead he cannot cross the wall… Yet. He said he could feel it weaken, the hold the Wall gets over him, and that we had to warn the others about what is happening. The dead are coming, Rickon. For all of us."

He nodded, his head swarming with all the information he'd just learned. That was too much for the King in the North, too much for him to come to terms with and he wished that Jon was here to help him through it all. Thinking of his brother gave him a strength he feared he didn't possess and a resolve he was more than thankful for.

"Are you going to fight with us?"

"I… I need to get back to my family. It's been years and I don't know if they're still alive. We cannot send ravens to Greywater Watch and I need to tell them about Jojen…" she replied softly.

"But you will be back?" he whispered, seeing the conflicted emotions on Meera's face.

"I've faced the dead too many times, Rickon. I… I don't know if I can do it again."

He understood. Truly he did. Meera had spent years fighting for her life, surviving in the harsh conditions beyond the Wall and caring for his brother all this time. He couldn't hold her desire to be with her family against her, not after he'd longed for his own for all these years.

"I have to go. I left him in his old room with your sister and I need to get back to him before he says anything too disturbing to her."

"I'll go with you."

He walked silently with Meera, still processing all that he had heard from her.

"Thank you for taking care of Bran. For bringing him back. My family owes you a lot. Get some rest and I'll make sure you will get home safely." he said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks, Rickon. I… About Bran… He is kind of lost inside himself. With all this Raven's knowledge stuff, he's closed off to the world and… Can be hurtful most times. I thought I'd lost him too, you know, but he reacted to you. The only emotion I've seen since we left that cave was the moment he saw you. Whatever he says, whatever he does, don't give up on him. Maybe you can bring him back? The real Bran, I mean?" she said hopefully.

"I'll try." He said, giving her a forced smile, his conflicted emotions making him unable to swear more.

They arrived just as Sansa walked out of the room, his sister was visibly shaken, and Rickon frowned as she came straight to him and embraced him. He could feel her whole body tremble as he held her in his arms.

"Sansa? Are you… Well?" he asked her worriedly.

"Aye, I'm just…" she looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Bran told me things… He… I'm so, so sorry I didn't believe you and Jon. I'm sorry I haven't been the best sister to you since you came back… I swear to you that I'll try to do better by you. I swear it"

To say that Rickon was shocked by her words would be an understatement.

"What did Bran say to you?"

"He sees… Things… I don't understand how, but he knew things about me that nobody could know… He told me the Long Night is coming and that he needs to speak to Jon. That we need the Dragons to fight against the Night King." Sansa said her voice showing she was still not completely over whatever else his brother had said to her.

"And what did he say to make you think you've been a bad sister to me?"

"That I shouldn't have pushed you to be King in the North. That you were lost and I made things worse for you. That we should have made Jon the King and left you be."

"And what did you say?" Rickon asked, as he took a step back and clenched his fists, trying to rein his building anger in.

"That as I saw it at the time, Jon was a bastard and as a trueborn son of House Stark, it was your right to be Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. I know you didn't want it but I didn't realize before we fell apart how much you needed to live a less burdened life. I see you fight with the wildlings and enjoy spending time with people your age and… I think that with Bran here… maybe we could….."

He cursed himself for having fallen for Sansa's tears. He had thought for a moment that she was being sincere and that she truly regretted her behavior, but he was wrong. Whenever Sansa talked to him, it always came down to the Throne.

"You know, if you want the Crown so much, you could just ask me to give it to you." he snapped.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You haven't seen your brother for years and the first thing you talk about is me being unfit to rule? Do you want me to give it up? To give it to Bran now because he's the eldest trueborn now?" The anger and recrimination in his voice forced her to take a step back from him.

"No, that's not… Bran doesn't want it anyway…"

"So you did ask him! And here I thought you were being nice because you truly were sorry!" he snarled.

"I am!"

"Give it to Bran. Take it for yourself, for all I care!"

"Rickon!"

"I hate you!" he exploded, his tears now falling freely as he ran back to his rooms.

He was tired. Tired of Sansa trying to manipulate him as if he was another political pawn in her game and not her brother that she could speak freely to. Most of all, he was tired of not being respected by her.

He was being honest when he said he would have given her the crown if she had asked it of him. That Crown was tearing their family apart and he hated being king now more than ever. If he wasn't king, he could have left and gone with Jon to Dragonstone and he wouldn't feel this void that was growing in his pained heart. He wouldn't have to endure heartbreak after heartbreak, deceptions after deceptions, and maybe his relationship with his sister could have been better.

He lost himself, he was feeling overwhelmed by his emotions. They threatened to cause him to scream out loud and lose himself some more and it was only that he could feel Ghost nearby that stopped him from doing so. As always the white wolf moved to him protectively, and the Ghost's warmth quickly enveloped him in a comforting way, but it was not enough to heal his heart, not this time.

He was startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to see Lyanna Mormont kneeling in front of him. He looked away, ashamed that one of his council members had witnessed him in such a moment of weakness. Apart from Jon, no one had ever seen him at the peak of his distress.

"How did you enter? I told the guard not to let anyone in," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Ghost opened the door," she answered nonchalantly while scratching his companion's head.

"You traitor," he mumbled to Ghost, who gave him a nonplussed look before easing his head down and resting it on Lyanna's thighs.

"I brought you some stew. You missed dinner tonight."

"Not hungry." he lied.

"The Lords worry about you. Your sister said you were not to be disturbed and then she went to dine with your other brother."

"How nice of her… They're probably talking about replacing me at this very moment."

"What are you on about?" she asked annoyed.

He told her about his latest clash with Sansa. The words were pouring out of his mouth and he found he said much more than he had intended to. Bran's words had done a lot of damage to him, and the fact that both he and his sister didn't want Rickon to be King had hurt him a lot more than he had wanted to admit. Not that he thought he was born to be King or that he deserved the Crown, but he was making a decent go of it with the Council's help. He had been proud of his accomplishments and felt all his efforts belittled by his family, and to make things that much harder, he missed Jon so much.

"Mind if I'm blunt?"

"Is there any time you aren't?" he chuckled bitterly.

"True. They aren't worth your tears, Rickon." Lyanna said shaking her head.

"They're my family."

"You're allowing their opinion to destroy you and all you've done so far. So what if they think you are not fit to be king? You are, and unless they come forward and ask for the Crown to be given to one of them, naught will change. If that ever happens, the Lords will not look favorably on either of them." she said determinedly.

"Bran is -"

"Not our king. Not for now. And even if the Lords decide to take the Crown from you, which would be a cunt move that I would take no part in, we would remember all the things you've done for us so far."

"I know one or two Lords who would be more than happy to see me fail." he said bitterly.

"Cerwyn is a coward and you've set Glover straight. He respects you much more now than before. The others are with you. Don't listen to your brother. You are exactly where you are supposed to be and I'm certain I'm not the only one thinking the same." Lyanna said looking reassuredly at him.

"Who?"

"Now you're wanting me to flatter your ego?" she said, arching a brow.

"Humor me."

"Fine. Davos, Tormund, Lord Manderly, Torrhen Liddle, they like you." she started and continued with a glare as he was about to point out that she was naming guards and council members. "And Remember your other brother, Jon Snow? The one who foolishly ran into a battlefield alone to get to you and who had the Red Witch bring you back? Don't you think he would be cross with you to hear that you don't belong here? What do you think he would say?" the reproach in her voice was welcomed, where had it been Sansa it would not have been.

Rickon gave her a small smile. He had no need to guess what his oldest brother would say, for he could remember his words every time he went to bed.

" When you're feeling overwhelmed, remember that you are a Stark. Not just any Stark. You are Rickon Stark. Son of Eddard and Catelyn. Adoptive son of Osha. King in the North, Friend of the Free Folk. The best of both worlds."

"Feeling better?" she asked and he could see the worry in her eyes.

"Aye. Thank you for this. And for the stew," he said and she nodded while getting up, smiling when Ghost whined at her leaving.

"Tomorrow? At the yard?"

"I'll be there."

"Oh, in case you got the wrong idea… I brought you food because I wanted you to be well enough so when I beat you it'll be fair and square. It was definitely not courting." she yelled as she walked away, making him and the guards outside laugh out loud.

Dragonstone 302 AC.

Jon Snow.

He had thought it to be a waste of time, firstly because of the pissing contest in the Throne Room, for that's what it ended up being and he felt it beneath him. He'd argued with Melisandre about the words she'd said, or had tried to anyway. The troubling part of the argument being that he was beginning to put some faith in what she said and it made him concerned that he was turning into Stannis Baratheon. Perhaps it was that he missed his brother so terribly that had made her words hit home a little more. Melisandre giving him a reason for why he was here, while in Winterfell just looking at Rickon and being by his side gave him a counter to all that she said.

Regardless it had achieved nothing, or so he'd thought only for the stoic guard who stood by the queen's shoulder to come and invite him to their War Council. Why they wished him there he knew not, but since he needed the queen's help he'd thought better than to refuse the invitation. Leaving the room when he did he felt that his presence had actually achieved something. The plans that had been laid out were so damn foolhardy that he had lost his composure and snorted upon hearing them, which had led to him then having to lay out some of his own.

Once again he felt he was wasting his time here when within a day of him doing so, Yara Greyjoy and Theon along with the Dornishwomen had set sail to carry out the very same plans. To make things even worse and show just how little he'd influenced things, the stoic guard who he'd come to find out was named Grey Worm, along with the Unsullied under his command had then been sent on the fool's errand to capture a keep that would bring them no advantage whatsoever. Were it not for the fact that Lady Olenna had not left and that the queen herself came to see him, he'd have felt even worse than he had been feeling. The Queen found him brooding while he was standing and looking down over the long stone staircase that led to a dock and a ship that he wished so very much to sail back to the North upon.

"You do brood, Jon Snow, it is known as the Dothraki would say." the queen said, wearing a small smirk on her face.

"And who told you that I brood, your grace?" he asked curiously.

"Lady Melisandre speaks most highly of you, Jon Snow. However, her lips while sealed on most things of interest, do loosen occasionally." the queen said and her smirk was still present.

"Then I shall need to have words with Lady Melisandre, once my brooding is done of course." he said and the small laugh she let out was a sound that he wished to hear more of.

"Of course." she said, her smirk turning to a fuller smile now "Lady Melisandre speaks of war, Jon Snow, the same one that you yourself have spoken of. One that you both tell me is more important than the war for the throne."

"One you don't believe in, your grace." he said, slightly annoyed.

"Indeed. This Dragonglass you seek, it's important to you?" the queen asked and he nodded "Then you have my leave to seek it out and mine it if you wish."

"I thank you, your grace." he said with a small bow.

"A reward for your counsel." she said softly.

"May I beg a favor from you, your grace?" he asked as she went to move away.

"Have I not just given you such." she replied and he swore he could see the mirth in her eyes as she spoke.

"Indeed, though that was for the North, this one's for me personally." he said and she nodded for him to continue "I'd wish to send a raven to my brother, your grace. To let him know I'm well and not a prisoner and to perhaps make mention of you."

"You would allow me to read it before it was sent?" she asked leaving him in no doubt that were he to refuse then she'd not allow him to send one at all.

"I would."

"Then you have earned your favor, Jon Snow." she said turning and why he said it he didn't know but the words came out before he could stop them.

"But not your own." he said and she actually giggled, the sound making him laugh a little so contagious was it.

"Not yet, Jon Snow, not yet." she said playfully as she walked away from him, Jon watching her as she did so and wondering how someone so small could have such a big presence about her.

It had taken them no time at all to find the Dragonglass and begin to mine it. His days were spent with his men doing so or going through forms on the beach as he practiced his swordsmanship without actually sparring. Some days he'd find himself drawn to the cliffs and he'd stand and brood as some would say while watching the green dragon as he flew in front of him. At times he swore he'd hear a voice calling out to him or find himself looking down on the sea with eyes not his own. He'd laugh as he saw Rhaegal show off for him, for that was the only way he could describe what the green dragon would do.

Rhaegal's flights were different from the other two dragons' flights and when the dragon would see him, even if the other two dragons were with him, Rhaegal would peel off and end up closer to Jon than he was to his siblings. Melisandre had asked him about it once, had he expected the green dragon to be here and he'd told her that he was always here. It was the truth but not the whole truth as Jon had come to realize over the last few days that the dragon wasn't always here, he was always where Jon himself was.

"Lord Snow." he heard the voice call and he rose to his feet dropping the bread and cheese he'd been eating to the ground.

"Forgive me, Lady Missandei." he said as he picked the food up from the sands.

"Her grace wishes you to join her for lunch. She'll be most pleased to find out you've not eaten." Missandei said as she smiled at him and motioned to the food that he could not now eat.

"I'd be most pleased to join her grace. A moment if I may." he said and Missandei nodded and stood waiting for him while he moved back to the caves and told the men to take their own luncheon and that he'd be back as soon as he could.

He walked beside the translator, her steps more precise than his own and the two large Dothraki guards who were with her and watching him warily.

"You've been with her grace, for some time?" he asked to make conversation.

"Even since she freed me from my master." Missandei said happily.

"Your master?"

"I was a slave, Lord Snow. Were it not for Queen Daenerys I would be a slave still as would the Unsullied."

"Then I'm happy you met her." he said to a warm smile from the young woman.

"As am I." she said emphatically.

"You believe she's a good and true queen?" he asked and she turned to look at him, her face now set in a frown.

"You do not" she said accusingly.

"I know her not, not as well as you, but aye, I believe her to be good and true. Far truer than the woman who sits the throne now."

"I believe her good and true as well, Lord Snow." she said more relaxed now, her expression back to what it had been.

As they walked he felt him and he looked up to see Rhaegal flying over his head, the sounds he made were ones that were he to name them, he'd name them joyful. The smile on his face as he looked at the green dragon did not go unnoticed and when Rhaegal eventually flew away, it was Missandei who spoke.

"He seems happier for some reason, do you know why that is, Lord Snow?" Missandei asked curiously.

"Dragonstone was always the home of dragons, Lady Missandei. Like us all he's happiest when he's home." he said a little sadly as he thought of his own and of those there, of a sister he knew not how he truly felt about and a brother he had no doubts of how he did.

"Perhaps." Missandei said contemplatively.

He was surprised to find the dinner was to be just him and the Queen, Jon feeling slightly nervous as he took his seat at the table and as Missandei spoke some words quietly in the queen's ear. When she then walked from the room, he found himself tongue-tied and knew not what to say. His eyes were drawn to the queen and the skin that was exposed, not too much and just enough to draw the eye and to make him think things that no bastard should ever truly think about.

"Your mining is going well, Jon Snow?"

"It is your grace." he said with a small bow of his head as he reached out to pour himself a glass of wine rather than the ale he'd have welcomed, were he here he may have even welcomed some of that god-awful goat's milk that Tormund was so fond of.

"And your brooding?" she asked and he saw the beginnings of the smile on her face as she did so.

"I believe I've mastered it, your grace." he said waiting until she had her wine glass to her lips and then chuckling when she almost spat it out as she laughed.

"Careful, Jon Snow, that may be considered an attempt on my life." she japed.

"Then perhaps we can dispense with the fish your grace, it contains bones you see." he said and she laughed a little more fully.

The meal continued in that vein, neither of them speaking on matters that truly mattered and both of them perhaps laughing more than either had expected they would. He told her the tale of when he'd tried to scare his sister's at Winterfell, of hiding in the Crypts and jumping out while covered in flour and she'd laughed hard and for quite some time. She'd told him of a house in Braavos with a lemon tree and a red door and how she'd had the happiest time of her childhood there and neither of them had taken that onto what had happened to them both much later on.

When she brought up what Meliisandre had said he wished she had not, Jon was not keen on having to explain what had happened to him at the Wall, the betrayal he had suffered, and what that betrayal had done to him.

"Lady Melisandre named you the Undying, the Resurrected. What did she mean by such? the queen asked and Jon sighed.

"I care not for titles, your grace. But perhaps she did so to combat your own impressive list, The Unburnt was it?" he said, slightly changing the subject.

"I believe I asked my question first, Jon Snow." the queen said looking at him and he did his best to hide the smirk that was threatening to appear on his face.

"It's a long story, your grace, as no doubt is your own."

"Then perhaps we need to find the time to tell each other our stories, Jon Snow." she challenged.

"Perhaps we do, your grace." he said before changing the subject and seeing the disappointed look on her face which she soon covered up.

He felt that when the meal ended she was saddened to see him leave and whether that was true or not in her case, it very much was in his. In the days that followed they ate alone and together more than once and she'd even come to the caves to watch him work, claiming she'd come to see what it was he was up to. It was the day after that when he found the drawings and had sent for her. Jon stood in the dark other than the torch he carried as he showed her the White Walkers, Night King, and the Children of the Forest.

"The First Men." he said pointing to men "They banded with the Children of the Forest to face this threat. Just as we must band together too." he said and she nodded before turning to him, her face inches from his own.

"Bend the knee, Jon Snow. Bend the knee and I'll add my armies to your own, my dragons will fight by your side and my men will fight under your command. Bend the knee and…."

"You ask too much." he said moving from her, the spell or whatever it was between them seeming to break almost at once.

"Or you do. What kind of queen would I be to fight for people that have not accepted me as their own?"

"A better one than Cersei Lannister and perhaps it would earn you that kneeling you care for so much."

"You have no idea what I care for. You know nothing, Jon Snow." she said as she turned to walk away, Jon followed after her a moment later as her words resounded in his head and he felt a pain in his heart as he thought back to the look that had been in her eyes just a few moments ago.

What would have happened between them were he not so stubborn or she not so determined, he knew not. How things may have played out had events not conspired to occur how they did, he knew not. The gods, fate, bad luck, stupidity, whatever the reason for the opportunity that presented itself to him, he cared not. After Varys and Tyrion had told her what had happened and she looked at him and spoke, he cared not for what had brought him here. This was a chance and it was one he'd not miss out on. If he could manage to help the queen win this war then he would get to go home and be by his brother's side sooner rather than later, and he'd not be going home empty-handed.

"I'm yours to command, your grace." he said as Tyrion glared at him, and once again, he cared not.

They made their way to the Chamber of the Painted Table, he and Melisandre had been asked to join Tyrion, Lord Varys Missandei, and Lady Olenna Tyrell in the hastily arranged War Council and while the Queen paced around the table, Lord Varys explained to Lady Olenna what had occurred. Jon noticed how she looked at him, her eyes narrowed and he was surprised by the small nod of her head as she did so.

"Lord Snow." the queen said, looking to him.

"Your Grace." Tyrion protested.

"I asked for Lord Snow's counsel, Tyrion, we need not argue further on it." she said firmly and leaving no room for doubt "Lord Snow?"

"As I said, I believe Casterly Rock to be a waste of time. Though I'd not truly expected things to turn this quickly. I cannot tell you what to do, your grace, only what I would do and what I think may happen." he said looking at the queen who was breathing heavily and still somewhat angered and annoyed.

"Which is what I seek from you, go on, Lord Snow."

"Two of your allies have fallen, I believe now they'll try and take the third. Highgarden and the Reach was a target regardless of this and for the reasons, that I've spoken on before. Now I believe there is an even more pressing reason." he said looking to the queen whose eyes were focussed only on his own "To take another ally from you."

"You believe they're already marching don't you." Lady Olenna said and Jon looked to the table and moved closer to it.

"The Ocean Road, your grace. Were it me and I was in Casterly Rock, I'd march my men down the Searoad and then the Ocean Road, I'd head for Highgarden and perhaps meet up with men from the Roseroad." he said showing the two points on the table where it was most likely for the men to meet.

"You believe my family would just abandon Casterly Rock, are you a fool? Your grace surely…"

"You are certain of this, Lord Snow?" the queen asked, ignoring Tyrion and willing him to be so.

"The only things certain in this world are death and love, your grace. All else is just a matter of best guesswork. Were it me this is what I would do, in terms of certainty, I'm as certain as I was that the initial plans were foolish. The Lannister army marches to the Highgarden, your grace. Do with that what you will."

It took until the next morning for what the queen had decided to be made clear. Ravens were sent to Highgarden and men were readied to fly with the queen on her dragon, all three of them would be going with her. She planned to intercept and dissuade the Lannister army from marching into the Reach, to force them to retreat and to damage them greatly in the process. There was no time for men or horses to be brought to bear as the ships would take too long to make it there. Instead, it would be men from Highgarden itself and the dragons that would end this march.

Tyrion Lannister was apoplectic, with his queen, with Lady Olenna who was most pleased by this outcome, and with Jon most of all. Again he cared not. It was his foolish plan that had got the queen into this predicament, it would not be his plan that got her out of it. Jon was surprised to be asked to join the queen as she made her way to the dragons, yet he welcomed walking with her all the same. She was dressed for a fight, almost, her lack of armor concerned him and he told her so, bringing a smile to her face in the process.

"Worried about me, Jon Snow?" she asked, her voice light and yet he felt she wished him to be so too.

"I am, your grace." he said and saw her sharp intake of breath "I would join you were you to but ask if of me." he said and she smiled at that, though she shook her head.

"And what of the war in the North and your brother. No, Jon Snow, this is not my time to fall. I shall see you again and if not, then the war that is to come can have no better man to face it than you."

"I wish you good fortune, your grace." he said and she nodded before reaching out to take his hand, her eyes looking deeply into his own.

"Counsel, Jon Snow, what counsel would you give me for when I win this battle." she asked almost pleadingly.

"Prisoners, your grace. Whatever urge you have, and I say this not because I name you bloodthirsty but I know what it feels like to face men who wish me harm and how in the heat of victory your only desire can be to harm them back. Prisoners, your grace, they are worth more dead than alive, remember this and one other thing."

"Which is?"

"Your safety more than anything else. Battles can be fought again, wars can be won even should you lose the opening encounters. Your army needs its queen." he said and he felt her little shiver before she gripped his hand more tightly and then let it go.

"I thank you, Jon Snow, for your counsel."

He felt him land and before he knew it he'd moved to him. Behind him, the queen and her men had climbed up onto the black dragon's back and though he couldn't see it her eyes were on him as he moved to Rhaegal. Without thinking he took his glove off and reached out his hand to touch the green dragon's head, the feel of his scales against his skin sent a jolt through his body. The sounds Rhaegar made as he softly stroked his head were nothing compared to the ones he made when Jon leaned his own against it and closed his eyes.

"Protect her, bring her home safely." he said and he believed he heard the words in his head, he swore he did.

It was only that night as he lay in his bed unable to sleep that he chastised himself for daring to think a dragon could understand his words. Even when he rose earlier than anyone else and found himself standing on the cliffs looking out to sea, he swore he could still hear those words. Were it not for the sight of black sails bearing a Kraken on them then he'd have spent only the gods knew how long on the cliffs. Yet as he ran to find out who the ship carried it was still those words he heard in his head.

"You need not fear for my mother."

Winterfell 302 AC

Petyr Baelish.

Another Stark. Another freaking Stark.

How in the seven hells do they manage to survive when everything is against them.? First the bastard, then the half wildling brat, and now… Now, the cripple out of all of them!

If the young wolf bitch came back from the dead, Petyr would surely do something he would regret.

Bran Stark had unknowingly helped him one time by sowing the seeds of distrust between the Starks and the Lannisters, thus sparking the start of the wonderful chaos that had been the War of the Five Kings. But he had outlived his usefulness and the way he looked at him unnerved him greatly. Yet… Judging by the still sullen look of the face of the King in the North, he wasn't the only one unhappy with the oldest living son of Eddard Stark's presence. He realized very quickly that it could still be of help to him.

He had, of course, suggested Sansa use that fact to bring Rickon back to her fold, to threaten to support Bran if she wasn't given more control during councils, though he had been surprised by her reaction.

"I will not pit one of my brothers against the other to gain more power, Lord Baelish." Sansa said dismissively.

"What do you plan to do, then, my Lady?"

"Wait. I will wait for the Lords to make their will known and I will act accordingly."

The Lords of the North were useless. Bran being the oldest made Rickon a usurper in the law of succession, yet they didn't say anything regarding that important fact. He had his men spread the belief that Bran should take his position as King, but found himself in a stalemate, as most of the Northern Lords didn't want to create more tension between the Stark family. Bran Stark and his unsettling attitude didn't help either.

The boy all but confirmed the ridiculous tales that Jon Snow and the wildlings had recounted, saying that he had lived Beyond the Wall and had seen them himself. How the cripple had survived all this time in such an inhospitable environment and without any help from the wildlings was beyond Petyr's comprehension. How he seemed to know things that he shouldn't made the Mockingbird very nervous.

"My Lord, a word, if you please." Yohn Royce's voice almost made him sigh in annoyance. That man would be the bane of his days if he hadn't more pressing matters to solve.

"Of course, my Lord Royce!" he said, plastering his false smile on his face as he looked at the older man "What can I do for you?"

"Our men are getting restless, Lord Baelish. They wonder, and I must say I do too, why we are still here."

"Why, because Lady Sansa still has need of us! Her cousin's wish was to see her well settled and it seems that it is not the case yet."

"Are you saying that you seriously believe those savages about the war and the dead they talk about?" Yohn said incredulously.

"Of course not, my Lord!" he scoffed. "Neither does Lady Sansa. But there is indeed a war brewing and we have to be prepared. Cersei Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen will come for the North and the Vale, especially since Lord Arryn openly offered aid to his cousin. We need to band together to have a chance to survive."

"Then we have to prepare the Vale also, my Lord. Leave the North to their delusion and prepare against Cersei Lannister." Yohn's agitation was clear.

"This will not do, Lord Royce. I seek to secure an alliance with Lady Sansa in the North."

"But -"

"An alliance, Lord Royce. Between Lady Sansa and the Ruler of the Vale" he insisted. The older man finally seemed to understand what he was implying and nodded. "That is why we cannot leave. Not yet. With the turmoil of the legacy of the North, it will do us no good to put our proposal now."

"I understand, my Lord. I just hope we will have to stay longer than needed."

"So do I, Lord Royce. I find the weather here absolutely horrendous." he said with a small laugh that was not joined in with.

His words seemed to convince the old knight to leave him alone for a while, which relieved Petyr greatly. The last thing he needed was to have the Knights of the Vale complaining, especially regarding his plans for the North.

He cursed Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen for ruining his perfect opportunity to rally the Lords of the North behind him and Sansa. The North was supposed to thank them for getting rid of the Boltons and then make Sansa Queen in the North. Then, as the Riverlands were in disarray since the death of Walder Frey and his get, they would have taken back Riverrun and declared her Queen of the Trident as well. With a swift wedding to Robyn the Vale would have come into the fold and the Reach would have soon rallied to them as the only ones strong enough to bring the Lannisters down. Cersei would have been forced to surrender, for she would stand alone against his and Sansa's forces as Dorne would probably have stayed neutral and parts of the West wouldn't help her after what she had done at the Great Sept.

Now, he had to count on another contender for the Crown of Winter and one for the Iron Throne.

Sansa was pushing her brother to the Godswood and Petyr hoped that his commission of the chair from Maester Wolkan would help him gain favor on the cripple's side, or at least endear him in Sansa's eyes. His attention shifted to the boy king who was treating the poor Umber Lord like a straw dummy, his attitude bringing him back to a fateful day when he almost died at the boy's Uncle's hands. Rickon Stark was a brute like Brandon was and Eddard had been. A fool with no manners and no mind for politics, and Petyr loathed the hope men such as they gave to their people. He had been able to rid himself of two Starks and he couldn't wait to add more of them to his books.

Yes, it was time for something to happen to Rickon Stark. He just had to think of who to frame for this horrible tragedy, which in turn was the trickiest part of his future plan.

He couldn't blame it on a Lord of the Vale, as Sansa would know for sure that he had been responsible. The Wildlings all worshipped the ground that Rickon walked on, and it would be very difficult to hire someone and make them pass as a savage. It had to be someone from the North. He ruled out the Mountain Clans and the pitiful lot who knelt to the Mormont brat. Lord Manderly benefited greatly from Rickon being alive, so it also ruled him out as well.

This left Glover, Cerwyn, and what remained of the fellow houses who fought for the Boltons, the Whitehills, Dustin, and the Lords of the Rills.

He had tried probing those Lords to see what they thought of the situation and found something interesting. While they were not willing to ask for a change regarding their King, they were truly afraid of Rickon Stark. Some of them, like him, didn't think it was a good thing to have a dead man walking and wearing a crown to be the one to lead them in the future. While most of the North thought Rickon blessed by the Gods, the others thought of him as a curse for all of their past sins.

Especially Robett Glover.

It was high time for him to talk to the King since he had now found his scapegoat. He waited quietly for Rickon to finish his spar and tried to approach him nicely, only to be stopped by the redhead savage who protected him.

"You should not be around so many weapons. A man like you could trip and hurt himself. Do you want me to make you trip?" the savage sneered.

"I just want a word with His Grace."

"No." Lyanna Mormont said loudly and drawing the attention of those nearest to them.

He looked at the young lady in surprise while Rickon smirked and walked away without acknowledging him.

"My Lady?"

"You will not say a word to my King. In the North words mean something Lord Baelish, yours do not. Men who use only words are not respected. Have you ever wielded a weapon other than your tongue? I'd wager not, I'd wager you'd not beat me in a spar."

"I did not need words to get to where I am, my Lady. Some people use violence, and you seem to prefer that way, but violence works as long as you have the strength for it. I want to help the North with my intellect and I'm certain I can help."

"Be careful Lord Baelish, for the North Remembers. We remember that you were at the service of those who butchered our families. That rather than sending the woman you pretend to be there for to a House loyal to hers, you brought her to wed into those who murdered our families. I do not know what your goal is, but you will not cow my king with your sniveling words." she spat before following Rickon, leaving Littlefinger dumbfounded and greatly annoyed at her daring attitude.

She would regret her words, he would make sure of that. For now, he had to make Sansa see the growing gap between her and the North. They needed her to be more involved at their side like her little brother was. She had to be seen as a caring ruler who would put aside her southern ways to do what she must for her people. Then and only then would they move accordingly.

Dragonstone 302 AC.

Daenerys Targaryen.

If someone had told her that a Stark would have come to her island not long after she'd returned, she'd have laughed in their faces. Even when she herself had been told that the man who arrived on the Northern ship was a Stark, or to be more precise, a Snow, she'd almost laughed loudly. Only for the words that Viserys had spouted about them over the years to come to mind and her anger to rise as she thought about the Usurper's Dogs and the Wolf Bitch who had bewitched their brother and caused the fall of their house.

So it was with barely restrained anger that she took her seat on the throne and waited for the Bastard of Winterfell to deign her with his presence. Yet mere moments after seeing him she felt that anger dissipate. Her eyes instead looked at him far differently than she had intended. Even when the red priestess beside him dared to try and equate his achievements with her own, it was with those same eyes that she looked at him. Had she not, then perhaps she'd have snapped at him sooner or more truly when they spoke together.

His words should have angered her more and yet they did not. She didn't agree with them and found they greatly annoyed her, and yet she liked that he dared to speak them to her, she more than liked it in fact. Still, it would not do, she couldn't have the North stand against her, and worst of all she couldn't allow or entertain the idea of a Stark King. She needed to bring them on side and make them bend the knee or force them to. Thinking of Jon Snow, she hoped it would be the former. So they had exchanged barbs and sparred verbally and even after she stood alone a few moments later it was with thoughts of Jon Snow on her mind, they would not be the last ones she had. As she found herself taking Lady Olenna's advice and inviting him into her War Council, it had led to arguments amongst her allies after he'd spoken there too.

" Who does he think he is?" Yara asked angrily.

" Dorne will not follow any plans put forth by a bastard wolf, your grace." Ellaria added.

" I fear I do not know, Jon Snow, as well as I believed, your grace." Tyrion said, her Hand sounding petulant and perturbed because his plans had been called out so blatantly.

" Unlike any of us here, that man has fought in a true battle and led men in a proper campaign, not counting you yourself, your grace." Olenna said and Tyrion turned to glare at the older women "Not counting that foolishness in King's Landing either, Lord Hand." Olenna said bitingly.

" I held the city.." Tyrion retorted.

" Which is far different from taking one? Who here has taken a keep? Fought men of Westeros and beat them using the tactics it requires to do so?" Olenna said to silence "Your grace, I suggested having Jon Snow present because not only does he know more of the current state of Westeros than any of us, but whatever you may think of him or whatever your Lord Hand may believe, there are few if any who wish to see House Lannister fall more so than the Starks."

" More than I, my lady?" Daenerys asked curiously.

" I said few, your grace. I have no issue with House Stark, unlike Lady Greyjoy or Lady Ellaria. I feel no ownership to these plans and so care not that someone has called them out, unlike the Lord Hand. I tell you this as perhaps the most unbiased source here, I believe that Jon Snow has more of the truth of things than any of us. His plans aren't just sound, your grace, but they are the ones that I would recommend we follow."

Would that she had done so she thought as she shook her head and felt the wind against her face. Dany decided it was time to rest for the night and so she told Drogon to find somewhere with water to land. Less than an hour later she was sitting yards from a stream while a fire was lit by her guards and her children rested. She ate the food made by the Dothraki guards she'd brought with her and found she'd had more of an appetite than she had thought she had. Despite speaking to the men with her, she was mostly quiet and lost in her thoughts, thoughts that once again were mainly of Jon Snow.

Ellaria and Yara had shown their reluctance to listen to what Jon Snow had said and she'd known it was for the reasons that Lady Olenna had told her. The Dornish hated the North and the Starks in particular, hated them for the same reasons that she herself should and did hate them or had hated them, she wasn't quite sure if she could say she still did after meeting Jon Snow. Yara blamed them for all that had happened to her brother and yet on this Dany found herself more in line with Jon Snow's own thinking. It mattered little as Tyrion was right and if she forced them to go with Jon Snow's plans against their will, it could cost her their support. So she had not and now she cursed herself and her Hand for it, as she did for allowing him to send Grey Worm to the West just so she could soothe his fragile ego. Lady Olenna however had practically demanded they listen to Jon Snow's words and so she had stayed while the rest of Tyrion's plan was followed and it cost her almost everything she'd gained.

Laying down to sleep that night, she closed her eyes and was soon thinking of dark grey ones. Dany smiled as she drifted off to sleep with memories of the lunches, walks, and talks she'd shared with Jon Snow and finding herself eager to be done with her business in the Reach so that she could enjoy them some more. He had told her about her granduncle who had served as the Maester at the Wall and it was the first time they'd shared more than words, as he'd been there for her in her sadness when she'd found out that he'd already passed. She had been so close and yet so far from having more family in the world and it had almost broken her heart in two to know that he died alone, or as alone as a man without family could die.

" He was the best man I knew next to my father, your grace. As wise as any, caring and always there to offer words of advice when I needed them and I needed them a lot." Jon Snow said as he moved his arms from her and she felt the loss of them when he did so.

" Did he suffer? At the end was there any pain?" she asked and Jon Snow shook his head.

" There was not, your grace. Would that we all should meet our ends in such a way."

" Alone and without family." she snapped.

" Peacefully and as content as he." His words made her nod his head and listen as he continued "Few of us are lucky to die without regrets, your grace. And while Maester Aemon had some, he had things which gave him comfort too, some things which brought him great comfort."

" Such as?"

" I believe he was happy with what I'd done with the Night's Watch, your grace. That he felt it was in good hands and that the words of wisdom he'd imparted to me had been welcomed and accepted. He was amongst the men that he'd served with for most of his life, while not family they had somewhat become so and I believe he took comfort in that."

" And that's all?" she asked to a shake of Jon Snow's head.

" And you, your grace. You most of all." Jon Snow said and she smiled as she looked at him "Every morsel of news about you, he welcomed it, reveled in it. Each thing he heard you do brought him more joy than anything else ever could, your grace. To know you lived and you were out there, to hear that you lived, you've no idea how much that means. Take it from a man who believed his own family lost, the news that you were not, he took great comfort in that."

" I thank you, Jon Snow, for telling me of my kin." she said softly as she walked away eager to spend time with her children.

She woke up and broke her fast and soon enough they were flying once more. This time they were closer than ever to her destination and despite the fears of what she would find, she felt an excitement too. Here she had a chance to stop something before it happened or to prove Jon Snow a liar and wrong. Even were she not already sure that the man didn't truly know how to lie, she'd still not have believed him to be either of those things. Which in turn meant that it would be battle and the first time she faced off against her true enemies.

As they flew over the Roseroad she saw them, Lannister men marching with men she knew not. Taking note of the sigils and banners they flew, it was past them and to Highgarden that Drogon took her next. Dany finding herself a little awed by the beauty of the keep below her and wishing she had more time to spare to enjoy that beauty. She did not and so it was onward and towards the sea and then she headed north and followed the road. The Ocean Road was what Jon Snow had named it which meant the one she'd seen the Lannisters march on was the Roseroad.

It didn't take her long to find them, the army that marched was larger than the one that came from the other direction and she was sorely tempted to end them here and now. Instead, she stuck to the plan that she had agreed with Jon Snow that she would follow, somewhat at least. His words about prisoners had hit home and should there be any survivors amongst her fallen allies then she needed valuable ones to trade for them. With a last look to the army beneath her, she bid Drogon fly back to Highgarden, and less than an hour later they were landing amongst rose bushes and destroying them. It could not be helped, bushes could be sowed again and roses would grow again, or they would if the keep remained in the hands of House Tyrell.

"Your grace." a large muscled man said with a bow of his head, her guards looking at him warily.

"Ser?"

"Ser Vortimer Crane, your grace. Master of Arms for House Tyrell." the man said and Dany looked around to see many other guards hurry their way, none bearing arms and perhaps more keen to see her or the dragons than anything else.

"How many men can you raise quickly, Ser Vortimer?" she asked.

"To stand or to ride out your grace?" he asked.

"To ride."

"A hundred, maybe two at a push." the knight replied.

"Your hundred best, Ser, see that they're raised within the hour." she commanded.

"At once, your grace.

She was led into the keep itself and marveled at the decorations and the luxury on show. Behind her the guards she'd brought with her seemed almost keen to sack the keep and steal its treasures and was Lady Olenna, not her ally, that would be what she'd bid them do. As it was she had come to save the keep and the lands of the Reach not to pillage and destroy them. The food she was given was eaten heartily by her and the guards, the wine drank only by her guards as she instead drank water and wine to the Dothraki may as well have been the same thing.

When Ser Vortimer came back to tell her the men were ready, she explained what was going on and asked about the sigils she had seen.

"Tarly, Randyll Tarly is riding with Lannisters." Ser Vortimer spat.

"The White Lion, is that the sigil of some branch of the Lannisters?" she asked and Ser Vortimer shook his head.

"No, your grace. The White Lion is Ser Jaime Lannister's own sigil. It refers to his time sullying the white cloak of the Kingsguard." Ser Vortmer made his disgust and disdain for the fallen knight clear.

"And would he allow anyone else to march under it or does its presence mean that Ser Jaime rides with Lord Tarly?" she asked curiously.

"No, Ser Jaime rides with that traitor, your grace, on that you can be sure."

After laying out what it was she wished to do and seeing more plans form in her head, she sent the men Ser Vortimer had gathered to ride towards Ser Jaime and Randyll Tarly. They were the prizes she sought and it would be there that they would be needed.

"What of the other army, your grace. If you and the dragons are occupied with Ser Jaime and the traitors…"

"Have no fear, Ser Vortimer. Dragons fly fast and true and I shall deal with the men on the Ocean Road first. Ser Jaime and Lord Tarly will find no other force marching to their aid and no empty keep for them to sack. The only thing they'll find on their march is Fire and Blood, Ser, and they will find much of both." she said with a small smirk on her face as she nodded to her guards and bid them join the men of Highgarden on their ride.

Walking from the keep she looked to her children who to her delight were all looking her way. She felt they could sense how she felt and that they felt it just as keenly as her. Moving to Viserion she rubbed his golden scales and spoke softly to him before moving to Rhaegal and doing the same to him. Then she moved and stood in front of Drogon and looked deeply into red eyes that looked so much like the fire she was soon to bring.

"Ziry iksos jēda naejot sagon iā zaldrīzes" "It's time to be a dragon." she said and as she moved and climbed up onto Drogon's back and all three dragons took to the sky, she felt more of one than she had ever done before.