The Wall

Jon Snow

You are a wolf of the North, his brother Robb used to tell him. It wasn't even that long ago. Before he left for the Wall, that is what Robb said to him. The last words Robb said to him. You might be Jon Snow, his parting words were. But I do not care. Your home is Winterfell. You have our blood. The blood of House Stark. His brother said that he was a wolf of Winterfell and that he should never forget it. But his brother was wrong. The two of them were pups attempting to be wolves.

And now, Robb was dead.

And with King Stannis' offer looming over him, Jon felt as if he would soon follow Robb. He couldn't breathe. It was a hard choice he would have to make - between his head and his heart. He could not just abandon his Brothers of the Nightwatch nor could he abandon his sister and his nephew. Inhaling the cold air, Jon could feel his shoulders tense underneath the thick furs of his cloak. As he saw the clouds above him darken, it felt as if his brother was giving him a warning of worse things to come. A storm would soon arrive at the Wall. He thinks of his father then. Standing next to him, wearing the same expression as he did. Solemn.

You must protect them, Jon hears his father tell him. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Running a hand through his damp dark curls, Jon found himself letting out a small sigh. As he was about to leave, a warm moist cloud at his right side caught his attention. It was her. Attempting to ignore her, Jon turns and starts to make his way up the ice-covered steps. The light footsteps continued to follow him though. For the past few hours, the Red Woman wouldn't leave his line of sight. Since dawn, Melisandre had been following him. Orders from Stannis, Jon thought.

"-Jon Snow," The feminine voice called out to him softly, causing him to stiffen.

"You shouldn't be seen without a guard," Jon warns her, turning around to face her. It was usual for the Red Woman to be alone. And he could understand, most didn't want the companionship of a woman who burns people for her God. A lot of the brothers were either eating in the hall or making their final rounds before the shift. So it was just him and the Red Woman. "A woman sighted on the Wall is rare and the Crows that don't like it might take advantage of that. I wouldn't want you to get hurt, my Lady."

"You wouldn't let them hurt me, Lord Crow," Melisandre tells him, a faint smile on her pale face. She reaches up to cup his bearded cheek but Jon takes a step back, moving from her grip. Despite claiming to have her Lord's fire within her, the Red Woman's touch always left Jon cold. Each time she touched him, it felt like a cold pair of hands were gripping his head and holding it tight. "You are much too gentle to let them. You are wrong, Jon Snow. I do have a guard-" He frowned then, no one was there apart from him. "I have a guard in the Lord of Light. It is you who should be worried, my Lord."

"And what should I be worried about, my Lady?" Retorts Jon, his brows furrowing. "Stannis?"

"The King is not your enemy, Jon Snow," Melisandre denies. A scoff leaves his throat.

"He sees Boudicca and Ned as a threat. To see them as such," Begins Jon, his voice cold. "That makes him my enemy."

"No, Jon Snow. He does not wish to harm The Storm Queen and her Wolf Child," The Red Woman said. "I warn you, Jon Snow... do not refuse our friendship. A time will come when you will need me - you will be in grave danger. I have seen you in the fires... you are battling your way through a storm... enemies that smile at you but behind your back... their blades glinting underneath the moonlight. Those enemies. Shall I tell you their names?"

"I know the names of my enemies."

"Some of them," Melisandre tells him, her brow quirking up as the jewel of her necklace gleamed at him. Clasping her hand together, the Red Woman seemed to stare into his very soul. "It is the so-called friends that you keep that you must fear. The friends that sing their praises to you but then curse you behind your back. I see... I see such horrible things, Jon Snow. I see steel and snow. I see darkness and blood... all I feel is cold."

"It's the Wall," Jon replies, his shoulders and jaw tense. "It is always cold. Are you cold, my Lady?"

"Never," The woman said, almost scoffing at the question. "I have the Lord's fire burning inside of me. Feel."

"I don't want to."

"Then-" Melisandre pauses, a faint smile on her lips as she trails back down the steps. "You truly know nothing, Jon Snow."

After her parting words left her red lips, the copper-haired woman gave him a gentle smirk before walking down the steps. In a swish of her red dress, she was gone and left him stunned in her wake. Her departure left his surroundings in an eerie silence that brought a chill to him. Swallowing the lump in that had formed in his throat, a reluctant Jon continued up the steps towards Stannis' quarters.

For as long as he could remember, Jon wanted to be a Stark instead of a Snow. And it seemed his longing for that name was about to come true. However, the name brought him nothing but guilt and sorrow. It came at the cost of his father and brother's life... Jon was not born to be Lord of Winterfell - it was Robb's birthright. Not his. Bringing it up with Sansa earlier, all she did was give him a stern glare that reminded him too much of Lady Catelyn. You would be Lord of Winterfell until Ned comes of age, his little sister had told him. The Warden of the North. You cannot protect us as a crow, Jon. You just can't. But, a wolf can protect us.

Entering the chambers of Stannis, Jon noticed the stoic man sitting in the darkness. All the lighting he had was a small candle providing light to his desk. The room was freezing as a hearth had not been lit. For a man who follows the Lord of Light, Jon remarked to himself. He is cold as the Wall itself. There were scrawls and piece of parchment scattered across his desk. For companionship, the pieces of parchment had books stacked high next to the desk.

"You have decided," Declares Stannis, not looking up from the letter he was reading. "What shall it be Lord Snow? Or is it Lord Stark now?"

"If you lose," Jon begins causing Stannis to still and his piercing gaze met his own. "What will happen? You might not win. It happened once before at Blackwater... what if it happens again? House Lannister holds the Iron Throne and King's Landing. I don't think you will get a good welcoming. The Lannister's won't give up what they think is theirs. And what of Boudicca and Ned? The Lannister's... Cersei is still her mother and Ned's grandmother... she has already lost so much."

"Haven't we all? Besides, I have received news that Tywin Lannister is dead-" It was his turn to still as he stared on at Stannis with wide eyes. "Without him, the Lannister's do not stand a chance. This means that Roose Bolton has lost his greatest ally. In their weakened states, we shall strike. I might not take the Iron Throne but I will get you Winterfell. If I fail to take King's Landing, you will see to it that Shireen finds herself on the Iron Throne. From taking Winterfell, the North will turn to a Stark instead of her."

"And what of the Wall? I am still Lord Commander," Jon said, standing stiffly at Stannis' desk. Having read the letter, King Stannis holds the letter to the flame. The parchment starts to turn black from the flame. "I made a vow to the Watch. The realm needs us... now more than ever. What sort of Lord can I be if I abandoned a vow I took? All those titles... king... queen... lord... lady... It means nothing to dead men. Titles mean nothing. It means nothing if we both die trying to reclaim Winterfell."

"You are not seeing what I see," Stannis tells him, his voice cold as he rose from his chair. "House Stark - a just house so ancient and noble... it will disappear because of House Lannister and Bolton. It will. In the Seven Kingdom's time of need, it has always been the North and its Warden who answered the call. I need a capable Warden of the North... I need a Stark."

"I don't have an army," Jon murmurs. "The men and women in the North are fighting in Boudicca's name. They're loyal."

"When a son of Eddard Stark steps forward to claim Winterfell," Replies Stannis, his voice firm. His hands were gripping the desk, causing his knuckles to turn white. "With the Stark children at his side, watch who those loyal men and women flock to. You should put aside the Ranger, Jon Snow. Let the North say that Eddard Stark fathered four sons and not three."

"I will," States Jon, glancing down at the wolf head on his sword in sorrow. "I want rid of the Bolton's... I have to go home now."

To protect them, Jon thinks. I need to be a wolf.

The Dreadfort

Boudicca Baratheon

She stared.

That was all she seemed to be able to do.

Was stare.

After the battle, she took Roose Bolton to the dungeons and demanded to be left alone. Her men wanted to see the North's justice but decapitation was not enough. In her mind, Boudicca knew that a simple sword to the throat would be too quick a death for the likes of him. No, his end would be slow and agonizing. Like the death of her beloved wolf. As she stared at him, Roose Bolton looked up at her. The man's deadly eyes were fixated on her.

"I understand, Roose... I truly do," Boudicca begins, humming slightly as she lets out a scoffing laugh. "We are enemies. We have been enemies ever since we met. For some reason, we just did not like each other but that doesn't mean that we did not understand each other. We did. That means I can understand that you are loathing this. You hate to lose because I don't like to lose either. This must be difficult for you, isn't it?"

The man remained silent and narrowed his eyes towards her, causing her to scowl. Angered, Boudicca landed a sharp kick to his face with her booted foot. A loud crack echoed in the dark cell and Boudicca let a smirk grow on her face when she saw blood flow down his sharp and crooked nose. The gaunt man averted his icy eyes, a sneer making its way onto his face.

"Answer me!" Snarled Boudicca, leaning down to grasp his face so he would face her. As he spoke, the muffled sound of his gag gave her a sadistic satisfaction. "It must be so frustrating for you... not being able to speak. To insult me and call me... what was it again? A stag whore? I would hate it too... not being able to insult the enemies that were holding me captive. You wanted me dead but here I am, stronger than ever."

"Please," The timid voice from behind her said, causing her to turn. "Don't hurt him, my Lady. I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything? That sounds familiar, doesn't it Roose? I said that when your husband took mine from me," Boudicca spits at the heavily pregnant Fat Walda before turning her attention back to Roose, her voice becoming a low hiss. "When I saw him for the first time... I had never seen such beauty before. I finally understood what my father meant. I loved him at first sight. He was perfect; he was kind, he was strong, he was intelligent and loved. So loved. He had a kindness to him that I didn't. He was about to become a father. He was mine and I was his. And you took him from me. You betrayed him. Why did you do that?"

It is silent, besides the sobbing of Walda.

"It doesn't matter now, does it? He is dead and I live... I suppose we chose our own fate... we make our own choices," Scoffs Boudicca. "You must have felt powerful then. Right now, I feel powerful knowing that I get to ruin you. I must admit, you don't look very powerful now. You look rather pathetic-" The man grows underneath his gag. "I don't sleep much. If at all. I sit and think about how I should end those who ever wronged me. How I should end Roose Bolton, the man who killed my husband and played a role in the Red Wedding. I thought about firing arrows at you and then-" Letting her hand trail down his face and neck, she stopped at his bare chest and dug her nails in. "Running my sword through you. That's how Robb died. But, it's too merciful a death... it's too quick... much too quick."

Standing up, Boudicca turns towards the large woman and walks towards her. Looking over her shoulder at the glaring Roose, she kneels down at the chained woman's side. Giving the woman's cheek a rough pat, her hand trails down to the woman's rounded stomach and a small smirk appears on her face. The woman starts to sob and wail for Roose but Boudicca ignores her.

"I thought about doing it to your wife like you did to my husband," Admits Boudicca, causing Lady Walda to squirm and grow hysterical. "I wanted to gut her open like a pig. She's so gentle and stupid, isn't she? To think about seeing her die... it just isn't right. Is it? I suppose it is poetic. We both lose our lovers. However, her child saved her life. The child should not have to die for its father's failure, should it? It's you I want. It always has been you since the very beginning. I didn't want Walder... or Tywin... I wanted you."

The woman sobs again in relief as Boudicca releases her stomach and turns to Roose.

"I hear that you are talented with a knife," She said, a smirk on her face. "It seems we are more alike than I thought... because I do too."

At that, she let out a scream from the rage she felt and lunged at him. With a dagger tight in her grip, Boudicca straddled his legs and Roose started to struggle. The iron chains held him down and Roose knew he would never escape. To her, he looked like an animal prepared to be skinned. Sitting on his legs, Boudicca looked down at him and began to drink in the traitorous bastard's face while listening to the sound of Walda's terrified screams and his muffled snarls. He made an attempt to fight her off until Boudicca set her knife onto his naked flesh.

Looking at the red nail marks she left earlier, Boudicca followed them and cut a deep vertical line into the man's chest. Stopping at his stomach, she withdrew the dagger before pushing it in deeper. Raising the dagger up, Boudicca stabbed it into his shoulder and sat back. The groans that came from him... it wasn't enough nor was watching the deep line on his front turn a dark red. The dagger parted from his shoulder as she lifted it up and brought it down again. This time, she started to carve into his flesh like one would do to skin an animal. Each time she took a bit of his skin, Boudicca thought of those she loved.

For Robb. For Myrcella. For Catelyn. For Sansa. For Ned.

A wet sound started to fill the air and now, it was the Leech Lord that was doing the screaming instead of Walda. Each time, he kept letting out muffled screams from behind his gag. It had turned into a song for her. As he let out a long, continuous roar from the pain he was no doubt in. Peeling back his skin and muscle, Boudicca stilled and sat back to watch him writhe in agony underneath her. The man's ribs were visible and exposed to her.

"And let us not forget the bastard, Bolton... Ramsay Snow," Boudicca murmured, staring down at him as he tried to compose himself. Leaning down, her nose was almost touching his. "When I get to him... I will put him in a cell quite like this once. He will die in a cell. As will Walda and her child. The three of them will live out the rest of their pathetic lives in cells. I want to watch as your family withers away like your house will... I made a promise, didn't I? I would take away your titles, your lands, and your family. You will be nothing but a name when I am done."

Rising up, Boudicca raised her dagger high and brought it down on Roose Bolton's exposed ribs. It was like watching twigs break and the Lord of Dreadfort gave a violent jerk from the blow she landed on him. After that, she let fury take over her senses and kept bringing the dagger down on his exposed self. His blood had covered her infuriated face. With a scream, Boudicca brought down the dagger for a tenth time before she stopped.

The man's eyes were starting to drift in and out of focus. As she grasped at his ribs and pulled them from his chest, Boudicca leaned down and looked the dying Roose in the eye. Growing closer, the dark-haired woman could feel his final breaths on her face and watched in a sick satisfaction as the life left his ice-colored eyes. Gripping his face with a bloodied hand, Boudicca pulled him up and brought her mouth to his ear. With her other hand, she gripped his heart tight and began to squeeze.

"This is how I felt when he died," Hissed Boudicca, tears starting to gather. "The Stark's send their regards."

Releasing him, Roose of House Bolton took one last breath before he went still. The cell had fallen silent and all Boudicca did was stare down at him. A cry was rising in her throat but this time she couldn't stifle it. Opening her mouth, the sound that came from her wasn't human as she ripped the dagger out of his flesh and started to bring it down to what used to be Roose Bolton's face. All she could do was scream. When she faced Roose Bolton, she followed Robb's teachings. The Starks teachings.

The man who passes the sentence, Boudicca thought. Swings the sword.

She took vengeance for the Starks and the North, for her son and for herself.

A saying, old as her mother's house, whispered to her then.

The Lannister's always pay their debts.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! So I hope this chapter wasn't too graphic and sorry for such a long wait. With my other stories, I am putting them on a hiatus for now until I get some new ideas for them. It's just been one big writer's block for those two stories but I am still continuing on with this one. The updates for this story will be more frequent this year than last year and I hope to at least put out a new chapter or two for my other stories before March.

I would like to thank everyone for their wonderful comments and for reading this story, I still can't believe how many favorites and follows this story got. I am very humbled by it! If anyone has any questions, don't be afraid to leave a message. Thanks for reading. I was wondering how everyone is viewing character development and Boudicca as a character, so leave a message to tell me what you think.