1) So I'm pretty damn proud of this chapter and I think you all will like it. But, if you could all do me a favor, keep an 'oh shit' tally and report your findings in the comments below. It'll be used for research purposes.

2) TRIGGER WARNING: There will be a discussion of Serana's r*pe at the hands of Molag Bal in the first part of Jon's section. It is non-graphic and fairly indirection but I wanted to warn everyone.

Timeline

283 AC/4E 187: Robb Stark is born; (two months later) "Jon Snow" is born.

286 AC/4E 190: Sansa Stark is born; RS-3, "JS"-3.

289 AC/4E 193: Arya Stark is born; Theon Greyjoy (10) arrives at Winterfell; RS-6, "JS"-6, SS-3.

290 AC/4E 194: Bran Stark is born; TG-11, RS-7, "JS"-7, SS-4, AS-1.

295 AC/4E 199: Rickon Stark is born; TG-16, RS-12, "JS"-12, SS-9, AS-6, BS-5.

296 AC/4E 200: Direwolves are found; TG-17, RS-13, "JS"-13, SS-10, AS-7, BS-6, RS-1.

297 AC/4E 201: Robb Stark turns 14; (two months later) "Jon Snow" turns 14; (one month later) "Jon Snow" runs away from Winterfell/appears in Skyrim; TG-18, SS-11, AS-8, BS-7, RS-2.

299 AC/4E 203: Jon Whitewolf sends a letter to Winterfell; TG-19, RS-16, JW-16, SS-13, AS-10, BS-9, RS-4.

300 AC/4E 204: Lord Eddard Stark asks Jon to return to Winterfell; TG-20, RS-17, JW-17, SS-14, AS-11, BS-10, RS-5.

302 AC/4E 206:

Jon Whitewolf receives Arya's letter: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.

1. (Two-and-a-half months later) Jon Whitewolf arrives at Winterfell: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.

2. (Four days later) Robb Stark turns 19: TG-22, RS-19, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.

3. (Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18) leaves for KL with Enzo, Ned Stark, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, and the royal party.

4. (Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18), the Starks, and the royal party are attacked while at the Triton.

5. (Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18), the Starks, and the royal party arrive at King's Landing.

6. (Three days later) the Tourney of the Hand begins.

7. (Five days later) Serena arrives at the Red Keep.

8. (Ten days later) King Robert Dies

Ned IX

Lord Stark,

The untimely death of the king has left things in a state of unrest. Unless we do something, Joffrey will soon sit the throne -an idea I'm sure neither of us wishes to ponder too deeply. I fear Jon Arryn may attempt to stop it on his own to disastrous consequences. But he is not the only one in danger. The Lannisters have no love for me and I'm that they will waste no time disposing of me once they have no one to check their power. You have my support, Lord Stark. Tell me where and when and I'll be there to help in any way I can.

The letter was signed with only a crude drawing of a Mockingjay sigil.

Ned read it over once more and growled, crumpling it into a ball and tucking it away. He'd found the letter had been tucked into one of his boots this morning. He hated King's Landing, hated everything about it, and he hated that every world in the letter was probably right.

The week since his best friend's death had passed slowly for Ned, who moved through the days as if in a haze... just going through the motions. He'd been a lucky man for most of his life; growing up, aside from the loss of his mother, those around Ned had been healthy and strong. For the past nineteen years, he'd been luckier still as his wife had survived the birthing bed five times with little issue and, unlike so many other fathers, never had to bury a single child.

Yes, it seemed as if the gods decided to deal Ned most of his pain in one fell swoop, taking the lion's share of family and friends in just a few short years. Then Jon ran off and he was viciously reminded of how painful it was to lose a loved one. The pain had nearly broken him then and now, with the loss of Robert, it was back -raw and bloody as ever.

"We'll need to have golden drapery installed, of course, and they'll need to be silk," the Queen... or rather the Dowager Queen instructed a haggard-looking servant. "This is to be my son's coronation; I will accept nothing but the best, do you understand?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," the servant replied passively. "And the turkeys have arrived for the feast; the cooks are waiting until the last moment to butcher them until the last moment so they will be fresh."

Queen Cersei shot the man a horribly nasty look, "Turkey? You think I'd serve something so... common as turkey at my son's coronation feast?"

"But-"

"Peafowl, you imbecile!" she shouted. "I ordered peafowl! Now fix it immediately or I'll have you whipped and then thrown out onto the streets!"

Ned rolled his eyes and slinked away so as to avoid being caught up in the woman's tirade, leaving his early morning breakfast unfinished. She'd spoken of little else since the bells at the Sept of Baelor had first tolled to signal Robert's death, irate at the High Septim's instance of adhering to the practice of, in a time of peace, waiting until the previous king had been properly laid to rest before crowning the new ruler.

Even at Robert's admittedly overly ostentatious funeral, the queen had worn a gown than was more gold than black and had yet to cut her hair as was expected for a woman in mourning.

'Mourning, ha,' he thought spitefully, returning to his quarters, folding up some clothing and tucking it away. 'That woman can't even help her own children deal with their father's death, let alone fake sadness herself. Though our supposed future king seems to be following her example, so I suppose that I know now where he gets it from.'

Unlike his siblings, who seemed legitimately sad their distant father who gone, Joffrey had only spent roughly half a day in an odd sort of silence before returning to his regular self; only now he wore smugness and arrogance openly like he never had before, strutting about like a rooster and demanding to be addressed as 'King Joffrey' or 'Your Majesty' despite having not yet been crowned.

Ned had watched on with disdain and worry; no longer did he have the time to carefully maneuver pieces into place to get the golden cuckoo removed from his position before he could take the throne and do even more damage. He had to work fast and hit hard, but how...

"Lord Stark?"

Ned jumped, startled with a hand going for a sword that wasn't there, and turned to see Lord Varys standing at his doorway.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded.

The man closed the door behind him. "A spider goes where he wishes, Lord Stark; you are an intelligent enough man to know that."

Ned scowled, "There doesn't explain why you've come to my quarters."

"Merely to offer you advice," the Master of Whispers said passively.

The Lord of Winterfell was done; he was sick of King's Landing, sick of the lies and the trickery, sick of the deceit and the manipulation. "Than speak plainly and be done with it! I have no time for double-speak! My oldest friend is dead and now I must plan the trip back to my home."

"Excellent, I would recommend you make these plans as soon as possible," Lord Varys nodded approvingly, to Ned's surprise.

"W-what?"

The Lord of Whispers picked up a small stone carving of a wolf, turning it over in her hands. "Am I correct in my assumption that you were initially planning to leave after the coronation?"

If Ned has his way, there would be no coronation at all but he still wasn't sure how to make that a reality but he gave a stiff, reluctant nod.

That spurred the man to continue on. "A little bird has told me that the Queen is planning on publically proposing a marriage between her son and your eldest daughter at the coronation feast."

Ned froze, a public proposal from the new king in front of many other lords and ladies was a harsh move; it would be almost impossible to turn it down without risking royal outrage.

"I believe that she is under the assumption that his reign will be more absolute with a wife by his side," Lord Varys hummed. "I'm sure you're thrilled at the idea; to become Queen is every little girl's dream and, considering Lady Sansa's age and lack of proper betrothal, it will stop all the waggling tounges that have been going on about her."

'Horrid witch,' Ned thought viciously, 'trying to use my own children to control me.'

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he addressed the Master of Whispers calmly. "Thank you for that information, Lord Varys; I will take it into consideration."

"Of course," the man nodded and took his leave. "Have a lovely evening, Lord Stark."

Ned walked him out and watched as the silk-clad spider vanished into the twisting corridors of the Red Keep before hurriedly locking the door. "Sansa! Arya!"

The two girls stumbled out of their shared bedroom; Sansa already washed and dressed for the day with her hair half pinned up and Arya still in her nightgown and looking as if she just rolled out of bed. She gave him a blurry, gray-eyed squint and mumbled, "Whasgoinon?"

"Start packing your things, now," he commanded, "I'm sending you both back to Winterfell immediately."

Sansa's eyes went wide, "What?!"

Ned grabbed a cloak that had been draped over an armchair, tucking it under his arm. "Listen-"

"What about Joffrey?" Sansa cut in, going pale. "What about the coronation? It is happening tomorrow! We can't just leave!"

"Did something happen with Robb or Mother?" Arya asked, now far more awake than she had been just a moment ago. "Is that why you're sending us home?"

"What?" Ned asked, confused. "No!"

Actually, Catelyn hadn't written him a single letter and Robb's had been short, direct little things, so, for all he knew, Winterfell could have been overrun with squishers and he wouldn't know.

"Please don't make me leave, Father," Sansa pleaded. "Please don't! I have to say!"

For once, the two Stark sisters actually agreed on something because Arya piped up with, "You can't send me back! I've followed all your rules! I've got my... dancing lessons; I'm finally getting good at them too!"

Ned fought back a frustrated growl. "This isn't a punishment, for either of you. I am sending you both back in Winterfell for your own safety. I'm staying for now but I'll explain more to you both. I'll be right behind you after I take care of some important business here in the capital."

With his children out of harm's way, he could do what needed to be done. Ned refused to lose anyone else he loved.

"Can't we take Syrio back with us?" Arya asked. "I'm sure he won't mind; he likes visiting new places."

"Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher?" Sansa hissed at her younger sister before turning back to Ned. "I can't go! I refuse to go! I need to stay! I'm supposed to marry Prince Joffrey! I love him and he loves me! I'm meant to be his queen and have his babies! If I don't stay then some other tramp will steal him from me!"

Arya rolled her eyes, annoyed, "Seven hells…"

Her remark got a vicious glare from Sansa but Ned didn't care enough to comment on it.

He laid a patient hand on his eldest daughter's shoulder. "I understand you're upset, Sansa, but a marriage between you and Joffrey would just be ill-fitted. Now, I promise that when things are settled I'll make you a match with someone who's worthy of you, someone who's brave and gentle and strong-"

"I don't want someone brave and gentle and strong," Sansa wailed. "I want him! I want Joffrey!"

Arya giggled at the outburst and what her sister unintentionally said while Ned found himself rolling his eyes, exasperated.

The eldest Stark daughter pressed on with her plea. "Joffrey will be the greatest king that there ever was, great enough that Aegon the Conqueror will just be a footnote in history! Songs will be sung of him, a great golden lion, and I will be his queen! I want to marry Joffrey and give him sons with beautiful blond hair, Father, please don't make me leave!

"The lion's not his sigil, idiot," Arya sneered. "He's a stag, like his father, and I doubt your kids will have blond hair."

"No, he is not," Sansa insisted, all but stamping her foot. "Joffrey is nothing like that old drunk king! He is-"

"SANSA!" Ned thundered, biting his fury back with all his might as he aimed an angry finger at his daughter's face. With a deadly calm voice he growled out, "I have put up with your disobedience and… disrespect for long enough. Now, clearly, you didn't learn a thing from your last punishment so let me be very clear -I am your father and your lord. You will do as I say without question and if I hear one more argument or insult from you than I'll ship you off to join the Silent Sisters. Do you understand me?"

Fury burning in her Tully blue eyes -gods, she looked so much like Cat- Sansa gave a stiff, silent nod.

"Good," he nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening himself. "Go on, girls. Get your septa and start packing your things. I need to speak to your brother before we leave."

Arya gave him a pleading look, "What about Syrio, can he come with us?"

Mind already miles away, Ned waved off the question, "I suppose that is fine, so long as he agrees and can be ready to leave soon."

"Okay," she chirped before grabbing her sister by the arm and dragging her back to their bedroom. "Come on! It'll take a day just to pack your dresses!"

Ned watched them go and, just as the door swung shut, heard Sansa yell, "But it's not fair!"

'No, no it's not,' he thought grimly, 'but life rarely is.'

Jon XIX

"You're brooding again."

Jon gave a chuckle, starting out onto King's Landing as he stood by his open window and enjoyed the brisk, late-morning breeze. "According to some people, that is my natural state."

Serana laughed, coming up behind Jon to give him a hug and cup of tea. He felt her cool lips against his shoulder and smelt the lily soap she used to wash her hair; Jon also felt that the woman was only wearing one of his thin nightshirts.

'Keep your head on straight,' he reminded himself.

"What is on your mind?" Serana asked, still lingering close with one hand gently curled around his elbow.

Jon bit his lip, uncertainty rolling over in his mind. "Just thinking about time and, no matter how long you live, there never seems to be enough to do what you need to. I mean, Miraak lived, if you can call it that, for so long and never accomplished his goals... Which is a good thing, of course, but still..."

"You don't need to tell me that. I was alive for twenty-one years, undead for centuries, and yet only tried a jazbay crostata for the first time two years ago," Serana reminded him. "Something tells me that this is more about the idea of leaving for home with business unfinished and mysteries unsolved."

Serana's words rang painfully true, as they usually did, and Jon gave his quarters a once-over; they were starkly bare, most of his possession having already been taken to the docks to be loaded onto the Bell Singer, Adelaisa's personal ship. Even Sweet Roll and Ghost had decided that they'd rather say on the ship until it was time to leave, preferring the open harbor air instead of being cramped up in Jon's quarters. He paused a moment to be grateful he had such devoted -and powerful- friends before sighing.

Jon just hoped Adelaisa wasn't serious about trying to keep Phantasm.

"I'm at a loss of what to do, Serana," he admitted. "This isn't a problem I can just... stab away. I've been going over the options in my head, over and over again; I keep trying to find a way I can do what is needed without anyone getting hurt but I can't see a way out this time."

"You could always take the throne yourself," Serana offered, cocking an eyebrow.

Jon rolled his eyes, "Don't joke about things like that. It is bad enough that Elisif has decided to make me her heir, I don't even want to think about ruling Westeros."

"Hey," Serana said, turning his face towards her and staring deep into his eyes, "you don't have to do anything, Jon; you don't own this land or it's people anything. Maybe you think you do, maybe you think that you owe it something because of Robert's Rebellion, but you don't. As for your family... 10,000 gold dragons more than pays back anything you might have ever owed them. We could all just leave in two days -you, me, mother, Enzo, and the animals- and never look back. Let Westeros devour itself, you've saved enough people to start living for yourself."

Turning his head, Jon pressed a feather-light kiss into the vampiress' smooth, strong palm. "I think we both know that I'm not one to leave well enough alone."

Serana sighed but smiled softly, "Of course not... That is the thing I love the most about you."

He froze, "...Love? Do you mean as a friend or..."

"You're a smart man, Jon," Serana said with a humorless chuckle, pulling away to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure it's not that hard to figure out."

Jon was a smart man. He'd studied just about every subject known to man, mer, and beastfolk; he also had his fair share of lovers and -occasionally unnerving- love confessions. But this was the one that left his mind whirling; most of the people he slept with he had liked, of course, and been attracted to -hells, he may have even grown to love a few- but, in the end, it was just for the fun of it. This was different.

"Y...you always said that you weren't interested in relationships or marriage," he said, sitting down a few feet away from Serana. "I thought that applied to me as well."

"It did at first," the vampiress admitted, dragging a hand through her hair. "First you were a useful stranger, then you were my friend, and then... I start to feel something more."

'So did I, but, for me, it started almost immediately,' Jon thought to himself. "Why didn't you ever say anything? You had to have known that I... I mean, Enzo says I'm not exactly subtle."

"Because I didn't know how to deal with them!" Serana declared. "Because I can't give you children, something I know you desperately want! Because I'll out-live you! Because part of me is bro-"

The dark-haired woman cut herself off with a hard wince, rubbing her face hard and looking like she was struggling not to tear up. Hesitantly, Jon put a hand on Serana's shoulder and said slowly, "You said that I should live for myself... and someone recently advised me that everyone should get to try to be happy. So, maybe, we could try both of those things... together."

Serana turned to him, glowing crimson eyes surprisingly soft. "I... I'd like that."

Jon let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and his heart skipped a beat. With a reassuring smile, he slid his hand from Serana's shoulder up to cut her face. Then slowly, so she'd have time to pull away, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was a soft, simple kiss; it was more of a kiss shared by nervous young sweethearts than that of two grown adults but it felt right that way."

"Wow," Serana breathed after he pulled back.

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"Good, good," the vampiress reassured. "Could we do... a little more?"

"I'd like that."

So Jon kissed Serana again. Then he kissed her once more. Then he kissed her many more times. Jon kissed her lips. He kissed her forehead. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her jaw. He kissed her neck.

Jon was pressing hot, opened-mouth kisses into Serana's neck, holding the vampiress in a close embrace as she tugged at his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder tight with the other. He sucked on what would be her pulse point, making Serana moan, and smiled into her skin. Feeling bold, Jon began to nose at the collar of the loose nightshirt, running his lips along her collarbone.

"STOP!"

Jon has immediately shoved away, falling onto the floor as Serana bolted up and turning away from him. Getting to his feet, he took a hesitant step forward with his hands raised. "What's wrong? Did I-"

"No no no, it has nothing to do with you!" Serana groaned, arms pulled, and face twisted with regret. "That was... fantastic, I swear. It was just that, when you started to start to go under my shirt, all I could think of was..."

Her voice faded out as Serana crumpled in on herself and slumped to the floor, back against the bed. Jon, very slowly, came to sit by his close friend and dear love. He understood and once again, wished so badly he had the power to take pain and fear and sadness away from others. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything," she waved him off, rubbing her face. Serana sighed and looked away from him. "We've never really talked about...that, have we?"

'That.'

The events surrounding Serana and her mother's transformation into vampires at the hands of Molag Bal was something Jon knew very little and yet all too much about. He'd seen the look of absolute horror, of complete dread, that crossed her face when they'd passed that abandoned house in Markarth; even if Jon didn't know the whole story, that alone was more than enough to convince him to buy the property from old Logrolf the Willful for far more than it was worth -sending the old man off to live with Azzada Lylvieve and his family in Dragon Bridge- and then board it up as tight as possible.

"You said it was degrading, that you didn't want to talk about it," he said. "I wanted to respect that."

Serana let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "You want to know the worst part? It wasn't the pain; I went numb eventually. It wasn't the injuries, those went away after some time. It's not the scars that still haven't healed."

Jon glanced down at the five scars that were still red and raised on Serana's pale tight, like some clawed beast had tried to rip the skin open, but said nothing as she continued.

"The worst pair is that I lost the ability to choose! I lose the ability to choose to lose my maidenhood, to be comfortable with others, to enjoy being touched. After it happened, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for three years; I used to change in the dark so I didn't have to see all the marks Molag Bal left on me! For so long, the idea of being touched made me want to vomit! And now that I have someone I want to be with, I can't!"

Jon didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Serana hated meaningless platitudes and Jon was never one to give them; it was part of the reason they understood each other so well.

"I don't want you to pity me," she said sternly. "I don't want you... committing to me because you feel bad for me. I'm not that selfish."

"Well, maybe I am," he declared. "I don't pity you, Serana. I wish that hadn't happened to you, that you hadn't been hurt like that, but you're one of the strongest people I know. To pity you would be to disrespect that strength and I would never do that. If I say with you it is because I want to be... if you'll still have me that is."

Serana gave Jon one of those... intense looks that were warm and sad at the same time. Then she just laughed and slumped warm against his side. "You really are a strange one, Jon Whitewolf," she said, taking his hand.

They sat in comfortable, blushing silence for a long while before a thought crossed Jon's mind, causing him to let out an amused snort. When Serana gave him a questioning look, he explained through a sneaky grin, "When Enzo finds out, he is going to be unbearably smug; he's been saying how we should just get together for months now."

"Oh, gods," Serana rolled his eyes, "we're never going to hear the end of it, are we? Well, if nothing else now he doesn't have to worry about you sleeping with Sanguine again."

"Agghhh," Jon groaned loudly, covering his bright red face with his hands. "None of you will ever let me forget that, will you? It was just one night, for crying out loud!"

"One night and three times," she teased.

"I was drunk!" he complained. "And how do you know that?"

"He brags! Not to mention he tried to leave his mark on your a-"

Jokingly, Jon covered Serana's mouth to cut her off, causing her to lick his palm and nibble at his middle finger. He jerked his hand back, wiping it on the leg of his trousers, and the two devolved into fits of laughter, falling together. Once that subsided, Jon sighed into Serana's hair, "Speaking of Enzo, I promised to find him in the east courtyard after I finish my meeting with the Tarlys. He wants to take me out into the city one last time before we leave, says he has something he wants to show me."

"Oh right," Serana nodded, "that's today. Well, here is hoping it goes well your new friend can come back with us. I just hope there is room on the ship for him with all of Mother's plant clippings."

"That reminds me," Jon said, rising to his feet and going for his boots, "would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you round up my sisters and bring them back to my room? I have something I want to give them before we leave."

"No problem," Serana shrugged. "I just need to get dressed first."

"Good, now let's cross our fingers and hope today goes smoothly."

"Oh, I can't do this," Sam fretted as he paced back and forth, wringing his hands together.

Jon stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, "Calm down, just keep your chin up and follow my lead; everything will be fine."

Sam shook his head, "You don't know my father."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but, based on what everyone has told me, I've known plenty of men like him and, trust me, they're not that difficult to play. Everything will be alright; if you get nervous that just... picture your father in his smallclothes."

"I don't want to imagine that!"

Jon rolled his eyes, "Then imagine him as a baby or dressed as a woman. Do whatever you must to keep calm and steady; think of your father like he's a horse, he'll bolt if you show fear."

Sam shook his head and opened his mouth to argue when the door to the Tarly's quarters was opened and a servant ushered the pair in.

"Take a deep breath and stand up straight," he whispered to his friend, pinching Sam in the side to stop him from slouching. Then he plastered a broad smile on his face as he came face-to-face with the Lord and Lady of Horn Hill.

"Lord Tarly, Lady Tarly," he greeted, respectfully kissing the back of Melessa Florent's hand and not mentioning when Randyll Tarly didn't offer a hand to shake. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"So this is the winner of the tourney?" the older man asked dismissively, giving Jon a judgmental once over. "I expected someone taller."

The Lord of Horn Hill was a lean, balding man with a short, bristly grey beard and shrewd look in his eyes.

In contrast, his wife was warm and friendly-looking with kind eyes and a plump face. "Your victory was quite impressive, Ser Jon. Though the incident with arm was quite worrying, gave my poor daughters a fright."

"My armor took the worse of it, thank the gods," Jon explained with a smile. "Your son did quite well, too."

"Oh, thank you," Melessa replied at the same time her husband gave a grunt.

"Dickon didn't win," he grumbled, "didn't even get to the final round."

Jon gave a shrug, "Perhaps, but he lost to Sandor Clegane and there is no shame in that, he is an accomplished warrior after all. Maybe your son will be able to learn from this failure?"

Lord Tarly rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Alright, enough with the pleasantries. I was forced into this meeting by that old hag but I refuse to waste any more of my time than I have to, so say what you must."

Jon appreciated straight talk as much as any other man but, at a certain point, it just turned to rudeness. Keeping the smile fixed on his face, he nodded, "Yes, of course. The reason I asked you to meet with is that I thought we should speak face-to-face before Samwell departs with me back to Skyrim."

"WHAT?"

The husband and wife both went wide-eyed and slacked jawed -it was actually quite comical, Jon fought the urge to snicker- at the news.

"Uh... yes," Sam nodded quickly. "Jon and I have become friends over the past few weeks, we share many interests. We were talking about his return to Skyrim and asked if I wanted to come with him. After some thought, I have agreed."

"Th- this is very sudden," Lady Tarly sputtered, eyes already starting to shine with tears. "You know no one in this strange land, Sammy, how will you care for yourself?"

"I have considerable assets and connections," Jon cut in, proud at how Sam managed to steer the conversation. "We've already decided that Sam can stay with me until he can get himself settled, which I will help him with, so that is no issue. Skyrim is a dangerous land though, so I will be teaching him to defend himself."

"Good luck with that," Randyll Tarly huffed under her breath before turning his cold eyes to his eldest son. "So you've decided to turn your back on the commitment you've made to the Night's Watch? Why am I not surprised."

Of a brief, worrying moment, Jon was sure that Sam would collapse in on himself and break under the pressure; but, to his surprise, the other young man took a deep and sat up straighter. "Well, I chose to join the Night's Watch because we both know that life as a lord was ill-suited for me but, now that I've given it some thought, neither would life at the Wall. This way I can explore the world in a way no Tarly ever has before but still leave Dickon free to inherit Horn Hill without issue."

"Oh, speaking of Dickon," Jon cut in, ready to lay down his trump card, "Sam mentioned that you were hoping to find a new sword instructor for him. If you'd like, I speak with Ser Jaime; I cannot promise anything, but perhaps I can convince him to take your son on as a student... if that is agreeable."

Lord Tarly scowled even deeper but Jon could the wheels turning in his head; the chance for his ideal heir to study under one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros was right in front of him and all he had to do it get it was let the son he hated go...

"What a lovely offer; thank you, young man," Lady Melessa said, smiling sweetly. Then her face turned sad and she reached out to clasp her eldest son's hand. "Are you sure this is what you want, Sam? Are you sure this will make you happy?"

It took Sam a moment but, eventually, he nodded, "I do, Mother. It will be hard, going so far always from you, Talla, and the others, but I think this is how I can become my own man. It will be hard, I'm under no delusions about that, but most things in life worth having are hard to get."

"Alright then," the woman said, taking in a deep, shaky breath, "you have my blessing."

The mother and son then turned to Lord Tarly as Jon watched on. The man gritted his jaw, eyes flickering to both of them, and grumbled out, "I see no good reason to stop you, but there are a few more things we need to discuss... as a family."

He then shot Jon a look that very clearly said, 'get out' and the young Dragonborn saw no need to argue, feeling content that this battle was won.

"I'll take my leave then," he declared, heading for the door. "I'm sure you all have much to discuss, goodbyes to say and all that."

Then Jon left the room, triumphant grin on his face.

"Ser Jon?"

Jon opened his eyes and lifted his head from where he'd been leaning it against a stone wall; he hadn't slept well the previous night, too many worries and pressures whirling about in head, and was hoping to rest his eyes before meeting up with Enzo later.

"Lord Varys, is there something I can help you with?" he asked, given the strange man a quizzical once over.

The Master of Whispers had seemed to forgo his usual layers of colorful silken garments for a more subdued outfit of thick dark cloth complete with a hood. He took a step closer to Jon and let his voice drop low. "I just wanted to say my goodbyes for now."

'For now?' Jon cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, so you heard I was leaving soon?"

"I did," the bald man nodded. "We have that in common, strangely enough."

"Is that so?"

Another nod. "Indeed. I've decided that it is time to take a little vacation, perhaps enjoy a bit of time in the countryside. I would usually not do so at such a strained time the kingdom, but things are getting so... messy."

The warm blood running through Jon's blood froze. 'He knows something...'

Swallowing hard, he forced out, "Ah, I can imagine; anything involving a new ruler taking the throne is always... messy. When will you be leaving?"

"As soon as possible, I'm afraid," the Spider replied passively. "I don't want to be in the way when the Queen tries to clean things up. She is so excited for her son to become king, I imagine she'll react poorly to anything that potentially hinders her plans."

Jon gave a stiff nod, the worst-case scenario already playing though his mind. "Thank you for telling me, Lord Varys. I hope all goes well with your journey."

"And yours as well," the Master of Whispers commented as he slunk back into the shadows, vanishing from sight.

"Fuck!" Jon hissed, pushing a hand through his hair as he rolled off the bench he'd been sitting on and to his feet and started toward the courtyard he was meeting Enzo at.

"Jon!"

A hand landed on the young Dragonborn's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks; Jon spun around, hackles raised, and ready to span the neck of his 'attacker.' Thankfully, he wasn't too eager though, as he would have ended up killing a smiling Samwell Tarly.

"Where were you running off to?" the other young man asked, amused.

"I... just have to find Enzo," Jon said, glancing over his friend's shoulder, ensuring himself that Sam hadn't been followed. "What do you need?"

"Uh, nothing... I just wanted to thank you for all your help," Sam answered, confusion playing across his face. "Everything went well, my father has agreed to let me go with you; he is even giving me some coin to see me off. You were right; asking in front of my mother really got to him."

Then he gave a sad sigh, "Mother cried and kept hugging me, talking about how grown up her little boy was. It was hard to see her like that and I regret that I'm not going to be able to see my younger sisters grow, but I'm excited about this new chapter in my life. So, again, thank you."

Jon gave a distracted nod, still looking around -every hair on his body on end. "You're welcome."

Sam gave him a concerned look, "Jon, is everything alright?"

"Oh... yes... of cour-" Jon cut himself off with a deep sigh, shutting his eyes and rubbing his face. 'I really shouldn't, but I can let them stay.'

He grabbed Sam tight by the shoulders and stared him down. "Listen to me, Sam; things have changed and you need to get your family out of the city right now. Don't tell anyone that you're going, don't take anything that isn't of the utmost of importance; just gather your people, get what you need, and get out of the city immediately."

Sam tried to pull away, only for Jon to squeeze his fleshy shoulders harder. "Jon, what are you talking about?"

"I can't explain right now," Jon said, shaking his head. "But I have good reason to believe that everyone is in danger -that includes you and your family. I know it sounds like madness but I need you to trust me right now!"

"I do, Jon. I do," his friend assured, terror creeping into his eyes, "but what should I say to my father?"

"Whatever you need to."

Sam gave a desperate shake of his head, "No, he'll never listen to me... At least not without a good reason."

"Then you make him listen!" Jon instructed. "Say whatever you need to say; I don't care what you tell them -outright lie if you must- but get them out. Can you do this for me?"

There was an audible gulp from beneath Sam's wobbly chin but he nodded. "Alright," he breathed, "alright, I'll do it."

When Jon neared the courtyard, he was greeted by the sounds of Enzo grunting. He rushed forward, desperately hoping he wasn't about to find his friend fighting off hoards of Lannister guards with a rake.

Rounding the corner, he let a relieved sigh when he saw that the grunts were just Enzo wrestling with Nymeria. "Enzo, why are you harassing my sister's direwolf?"

"Gah, you will not best me, mighty beast!" the Ebony Warrior declared, scratching Nymeria vigorously behind the ears as she playfully gnawed at his wrist. Glancing up at Jon, the older man smiled, "I like this one! Ghost is always so serious -which I blame you for-, but she likes playing around. Where can I get my own one?"

Despite everything, Jon snorting in amusement. "Direwolves don't come south of the Wall, ours were an abnormality. Unc... Father-" he glanced around, paranoid someone was watching them "-was always very careful to keep our direwolves away from the regular hounds growing up, not wanting any mixed-breeds running around causing trouble. I tried to follow his example but I think Ghost managed to get a litter on Winter back at Heljarchen Hall; you're welcome to one of the pups when we get back."

"Oh, so we are leaving soon?" Enzo asked. "No more delays?"

"Quite the opposite."

Enzo raised his eyebrows and sat up, prompting Jon to come closer; he crouched down, acting if he was just interested in playing with Nymeria as well.

"We need to leave, as soon as possible," Jon whispered, rubbing the direwolf under her chin. "How soon can you get your things together?"

"I travel light and most of my possessions are already on the ship," the older man answered simply. "What is going on?"

"The details are foggy," Jon admitted, "but I'm willing to bet my fortune that King's Landing is soon going to be very dangerous for anyone that isn't a friend of House Lannister. I'm going to talk with my family, get my stuff together, then get Serana and her mother so we can be on way as soon as possible."

"That is not good," Enzo groaned, rubbing his chin with a pensive look in his dark eyes. "It makes sense though, the Harpy Queen wants to ensure her false gold cuckoo takes the throne with little impediment; she seems foolish enough to shed blood to see it happen."

His friend's words rang true in Jon's mind... in fact, they rang too true. A fresh wave of dread filled his stomach, "And ruthless enough to get rid of anyone or anything that may reveal her secret."

Enzo's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyes went wide. "Fuck!" he hissed, "King Sload's actually children... do you think that she would really-"

"I don't want to risk it," Jon shook his head. "They could be in danger; we need to get them out of the city too. How did the mother's response to you and Lady Valerica?"

"Well, they understandably did not take kindly to some strange man asking about their sons but they took to Lady Poison much better-" Jon gave a brief thought to if Valerica took the time to endear herself naturally or if she just hypnotized the mothers into telling her what she wanted to know; then he decided this wasn't the time. "-and were more willing to work with her."

"Enough to leave the city with us?"

Enzo looked unconvinced, "I do not know... but if they believe their children are in danger than they might."

"Good, good," Jon mumbled to himself, already reworking his escape plan to include these children and their mothers.

"I can retrieve the children from Flea Bottom; they know my face already and should be more willing to listen," Enzo offered, rising to his feet.

"Sounds fair, I'll go collect Gendry, Jon, and Mhaegen," he nodded, already heading for one of the courtyard exits. 'We can't waste a single moment; if we're luck than I'm just overreacting but if I'm not...'

Jon's thoughts were cut off when he and Enzo rounded a corner and nearly bumped into his uncle.

"Jon? Where are you going off to in such a hurry?" the man asked, looking fairly haggard himself. "Actually, never mind. You and your sister need to leave the city immediately; I'm having them pack their things up and-"

"Wait, what? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" Jon demanded, confusion outweighing his relief that he wouldn't have to spend hours convincing the Lord of Winterfell to cut and run.

Uncle Ned shook his head quickly, gripping Jon by the shoulders. "Now is not the time to explain. You all need to get out of King's Landing. It's not safe anymore. I hate to ask but I need you to take your sisters out of the city on your ship and to a friendly port; I understand if you can non personally escort them to White Harbor but just getting them on a ship you trust would mean the world to me."

"Yes... of course, you know that I'd protect Arya with my life," Jon blinked. "But what about you? Are you coming with us?"

"No, I'll be staying for a little while."

"What?" Jon repeated, already having a sinking suspicion on where this was going.

"Look, I can't explain now but-"

"Well, find a way," Enzo snapped.

Uncle Ned gave a frustrated sigh before looking around nervously and waving them all into a small alcove. "Listen, it is very complicated but I have reason to believe that the royal children are not Robert's-"

"You figured that out too?" Enzo asked sounding legitimately surprised. "Huh, you are not as dim as I thought."

"Thank you," Uncle Ned replied, waving off the insult. "How did you two know that the children were illegitimate?"

'Long, complicated story,' Jon thought. Instead, he just shrugged, "None of the three look the slightest bit like the king despite the Baratheon line typically having dominant features like dark hair. It was just simple deduction."

Uncle Ned let out a tight breath, saying mostly to himself. "You can't be the only one who figured that out." Then he shook his head, pulling his attention back to Jon and Enzo. "The Lannisters would do whatever it takes to remain in power; they'll kill anyone that stands in their way, they have before and wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

"I know, including killing Lord Stannis and poisoning Lord Arryn," Jon said simply. 'When did he learn all of this?'

A look of absolute shock crossed Uncle Ned's face, "You knew-"

"Assume we know everything you do and more," Enzo stated.

"I-"

"Never mind any of that," Jon said, cutting his uncle off. "You know Joffrey and the other royal children are illegitimate, what are planning to do about it?"

"Joffrey cannot be allowed to take the throne, there is no question about it," his uncle said seriously. "After you all are safe and out of harm's way, I am going to declare my suspicions. I'm going to do it at the coronation, in front of the High Septon and all of the royal court; by making such a public spectacle, the Faith will be forced to investigate my claims and with all eyes on me, the Lannisters won't be able to discreetly get rid of me without drawing doubt."

'Okay, so he has actually given this some thought,' Jon reassured himself. But still... "Alright, do you have any proof you can present to the Faith or Court?"

Uncle Ned shifted uncomfortably, "No... not quite. There is the children's appearance, obviously but-"

"But that is hardly proof," Enzo pointed out. "Only one of your children looks all that much like you, Lord of Winter. One could easily use the same argument to accuse your own wife of infidelity."

"Do you have anything else?" Jon asked pointedly. "Do you have any idea of who the true father could be?"

"Someone above suspicion," his uncle declared. "Someone the Queen betted on her children not taking after."

"So you have nothing," the Ebony Warrior groaned, rubbing his face.

Jon sighed and gave his uncle a desperate look, "What about allies? Do you have anyone who will back you up?'"

His uncle looked flustered, "Yes. Lord Baelish has agreed to stand with me; Jon and Lord Stannis also had the same suspicion of the royal children's parentage. Their words will hold sway."

Enzo looked incredulous, "So you have a dead man, a nearly dead man, and a man many likely wish was dead? That is very reassuring."

The Lord of Winterfell shot the giant Redguard a scathing glare but Jon just sighed once more, yanking at his curls and feeling disappointed in the man he once admired above all other. "What in the world makes you think Baelish is someone you can trust?"

"I don't trust him," Uncle Ned scoffed. "I trust that he'll put his own self-preservation above anything else; the Lannisters are no friend of his either."

Okay, so there was sense to that but, once more, the Quiet Wolf made the mistake of believing the best in people.

"Littlefinger made his money off of other people's pain," Jon hissed. "If it benefits him than he'll throw you into the fire without batting an eyelash! If you trust him to have your back than he'll use you as a shield! If you let him stand with you then he'll use it to put a blade at your neck! You cannot trust him!"

"Jon, would you just-" the Lord of Winterfell gave a frustrated growled and threw his hands up. "I understand that you think very little of me but I beg of you to trust me on this. Now, I'm going to check to see if your sisters are ready to go. If you think I am capable of finding my way, please meet us at my chambers in an hour."

He then turned to leave... but Jon couldn't let him go.

The paralyzation spell hit his uncle clear in the center of his back, freezing him in his tracks and forcing the man to tip forward, falling to the ground.

Jon knelt by his uncle's side, turning him so he could look into the man's terrified eyes. "I'm sorry but I refuse to let you get our family killed. I'll explain everything later, after I make sure we're all safe."

"Leave your uncle to me," Enzo said, "I will get him to the ship and then go get the children. You go take care of your family and the ladies."

"But you things-"

Enzo shook his head, "I have my sword; my armor, Spector, and anything else of value is safe on the ship. The only thing in my quarters is some clothes, nothing I care about. Now, go on; who knows how much time we have."

'I don't know what I'd due without you, Enzo,' Jon thought with a soft smile as he nodded before crouching down in front of Nymeria.

The bond each Stark child had with their direwolf was an intensely personal thing but -even with this in mind- staring in Nymeria's dark gold eyes, Jon sensed that the she-wolf could understand him.

"I hate to ask this, but I need you to go with Enzo and Uncle Ned," Jon explained. "I know you don't want to leave Arya, but I swear she'll be alright."

Nymeria let out a long, low whine, seemingly unhappy about the idea, before giving Jon a long lick across the face and wagging her tail.

"Yes, thank you for that," he grumbled, wiping the wolf slobber off on his sleeve. Jon gave Nymeria a scratch behind the ears and one final nod to Enzo before turning and hurrying through the maze-like corridors of the Red Keep.

Before long, he came across Jory, Wyl, and Heward who all looked confused yet tense. "Oh, excellent!" he said, skidding to a stop in front of them. "My father wanted me to find you all; That is a change of plans, he is coming with the rest of us. Is everything ready to leave?"

They glanced back and forth between themselves uneasily before Jory gave a nod. "Yes... the trunks are packed up and into a carriage. The horses are ready to go as well, Hullen and Harwin are with them. But, Jon, what is going on?"

Jon shook his head, "It would take too long to explain. Go down and wait with the wagon; I'm worried someone will try to sabotage or stop us from leaving. I'm going to collect everyone; we'll join you shortly."

The older men still looked unsure but eventually agreed.

"Stay safe, Jon. No one wants to lose you again so soon," Jory said, pulling him into a surprising hug before heading out with the other guards.

"You too," he replied. "Be vigilant, I have a bad feeling that things to come."

Jon watched them go, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he saw them all, before continuing on. He had to find Arya, Serana, and the others before it was too late.

Jon rounded a corner, spied the back of Samwell Tarly, prompted seized him by his collar, and yank him away from the guard he was about to approach. He pulled his friend back around the corner and pressed him against the wall with an arm across his chest. Sam started to yelp, prompting Jon to slap a hand over his mouth and putting a finger up to his own, making the universal 'shhhhhh' motion.

Sam gave a wide-eyed, wobbly nod and Jon pulled his hand away. "Jon, what is going on?"

"What are you still doing in the castle?" Jon hissed, glancing around the corner to ensure the guard was still standing there. "I told you to get your family out of here."

"I- I did," he exclaimed. "It took a bit to convince my father but they listened; I saw them off not too long ago."

"Were you met with any resistance?"

"No," Sam said, giving a confused shake of the head. "One of the guards asked where we were going but Father just told them to mind their own business and then they just waved us through. They're probably to the King's Gate by now."

"Good to know," Jon mumbled. 'The queen may not consider the Tarlys a threat...'

Then he paused as a realization hit him, "Wait, what are you still doing here? Why didn't you go with them?"

"...because I'm going with you?" Sam replied questionably before seeming to deflate. "Unless... unless that isn't the plan anymore?"

"No. No, it's just-" Jon growled and rubbed his face. "Sorry... things are going mad right now and my mind is all over the place. Yes, of course, you're still coming with me. We'll need to hurry, c'mon; don't run, though, that always draws attention."

Jon led Sam through the small, darker servants corridors. Taking them made the trip to the Tower of the Hand much longer -the winding halls snaked there way around the main areas of the castle, designed so that the nobility wouldn't have to see those who served them -but it kept them away from any roving guard patrols.

"Can you finally tell me what is going on?" Sam begged, slightly panting from the half-jog he had to do to keep pace with Jon's fast strides.

"It is a long, weird, complicated story," Jon replied, "but the long-and-sort of it is that the queen's children are almost certainly not Robert Baratheon's and the queen is going to do whatever it takes to ensure her rotten spawn sits on the throne... which includes taking care of anyone she thinks is a danger to that plan."

"You mean she is planning on killing us?" Sam squeaked.

Jon shrugged, "Kill... take hostage... who knows? She may be planning on killing the ruling generation and taking the heirs hostage. I assume the queen believes that she might as well take advantage of having so many members of the nobility in easy reach."

"But could result in all-out war!"

"I don't think she cares," Jon admitted. "Not so long as it gets Joffrey his crown."

Through the corridors, they went quick and quiet as thieves -well, Jon did; Sam wasn't really built for sneaking- and a passageway let them out only a short staircase away from the Hand of the King's bed-chambers.

"Wait here," he instructed. "I'm going to go get Lord Arryn and hopefully we can be gone before anyone-"

"Jon Snow, the Queen has demanded your presence!"

"Fuck," he grumbled, letting his eyes slide from a group of five guards led by Ser Preston Greenfield that was approaching from the left to the ground of three guards led by Ser Boros Blount that were coming up behind him. "Trying to corner me in? Smart."

"Don't compliment them, Jon," Sam hissed into his ear as he grabbed at Jon's cloak.

"Just stay behind me," he whispered back.

"You're to come with us, bastard," Blount commanded, puffing out his unimpressive frame to try and look more intimidating.

'You're failing' Jon snidely thought. "And why is that, Ser Bloat?"

For a moment, Jon thought he heard a snicker from one of the guards but it was drowned out by the nearly-bald Kingsgaurd bellowing, "It is Ser BLOUNT, you uppity bastard!"

Ser Preston took a step forward, trying to keep at least some sort of control over the situation. "Come along quietly, young man; there is no need for anyone to get hurt."

'Gods, I wish that was true.'

"You're right, no one needs to get hurt," Jon said, clenching and unflinching his fists until magic flames began licking his fingers. "Both of you -turn around, take your men, and walk away. Do that and I won't have to kill you."

A chorus of laughter rippled through the men. Sam let out a soft whimper and clenched Jon's robe tighter.

"You, kill us?" Blount sneered. "We outnumber you 5-1 and you have no sword, bastard!"

"An unfair fight," Jon admitted with a nod. "I will try to make your deaths quick though."

Then he raised his hands and shot twin jets of ravenous fire at the men, burning them all alive and melting their pretty golden Lannister armor. Metal was good at keeping you safe on the battlefield but, in a blase, it just cooked you faster.

There was a rush of heat, a series of brief, choked screams of terror, and then nothing. Jon lowered his hands, giving the two piles of burnt flesh and blackened corpses covered by the glistening molten remains of their armor a brief once-over. 'What a waste,' he thought.

The smell of burning flesh and the sight of a charred skeleton with the blackened flesh stuck to the heat-cracked skull of -what used to be- a guard was stomach-turning but Jon had, sadly, spent the past few years learning to get used to it.

Sam, however, had not.

"BLARGH!"

Jon winced as his friend bent over and vomited on the floor, scrunching his nose up at the smell. "There, there," he soothed awkwardly, rubbing his back. "Let it all out."

Sam took a few deep, shaky breaths, stood up, and wiped his mouth off on a nearby curtain. "W-what was t-that?"

"Magic," Jon said simply. "Now, keep up; we need to get Lord Arryn and be gone before anyone else comes."

The other young man let out a confused but amazed gasp, sputtering as Jon pulled him by the arm up the staircase. Jon went to open the door when he became aware of an auditable squelching sound from beneath his boot; he glanced down, eyes widening at the blood that was running down the stairs -the liquid soaking into the dark stone.

"Is- is that blood?" Sam asked, gagging once more at the smell.

Jon didn't answer, instead just kicking the door in -not even bothering to check if it was locked or not.

"Lord Arryn?" he called out, barely stepping into the chamber before reeling back in shock as Sam glanced inside and began throwing up once more.

Blood soaked nearly every surface, bright red sprays painting the ceiling and walls like some sort of grotesque artwork. But even that was nothing compared to the dozen or so dismembered bodies that were scattered around the room.

"Hello, Jon," Lady Valerica said, voice calm and chipper. "Are you looking for Lord Arryn, as well?"

"...yes," he forced out, carefully stepping around a stray arm. "Wha... what happened here?"

The vampiress glanced around the room, completely unphased the gore and viscera that surrounded them even as blood was drying on her cheek. "Oh, I was looking for the Hand of the King to give him another dose of the antidotes when a group of the Queen's men came to collect him as well. When they learned Lord Arryn wasn't here, they tried to get me to come with them. I declined. Could you be a lamb and get me something to wipe my face off?"

'That's obvious. I can't believe it got so bad so fast,' Jon thought grimly as he riffled through some drawers to find a clean washcloth which he damned with -due to the lack of anything else- some wine and gave to her.

Lady Valerica shot him a small smile before jerking her head towards the still retching Sam. "Who is he?"

"He is my friend, Samwell Tarly," Jon explained, tossing his friend the wine bottle to rinse his mouth out. "He was coming back with us to Skyrim anyway but, now that things have changed, those plans have been stepped up."

"Obviously," the woman hummed. "Do you know what is going on?"

"Not completely," Jon confessed, "but I know we all need to get out of here as soon as possible. Enzo is taking my uncle down to the harbor and then will be trying to round up Robert's children. I still need to collect Lord Arryn, Serana, and my sisters but-"

He faltered as an idea dawned on him; Jon turned to Lady Valerica, "Actually, can you take Sam here down to ship? I will meet you there with others as soon as I can?"

The vampiress eyed Jon's pale-faced friend with a deeply unimpressed look before struggling. "I supposed; you just ensure my daughter and little Arya are safe, you hear?"

'Serana can more than protect herself,' Jon thought, somewhat amused, but he nodded. "Of course."

"Alright then," Lady Valerica said, already pushing Sam out of the room and steering him down a corridor. Then she turned and called over her shoulder, "You should check the infirmary for, Lord Arryn."

Jon gave a sharp nod, spun on his heel, and took off once more.

The many intricate passageways for the Red Keep was impressive in many ways; there had clearly been a method in Maegor's madness and Jon could almost appreciate it. He'd spent the past weeks exploring as much of it as possible, creating a map in his head as Vex had taught him, but even now he only had the roughest idea of where he was going. Some of the corridors and stairwells seemingly stretched on for miles while some seemed to go nowhere at all. It was dizzying and somewhat unnerving, not helped by the sounds of yelling and screaming that echoed through the halls.

Heart pounding in his ears, Jon rounded a corner and threw himself into the infirmary; he opened the door just enough to slip through -silent as a mouse- and closing it quickly behind him.

"Jon?"

There was Lord Arryn, frail-looking and pale but on his feet and halfway through the process of putting several vials and books into a satchel, frozen and staring at Jon in shock. Then his old, lined face grew dark and cold. "It's begun, hasn't it?"

"Aye," Jon growled back. "I'm getting you to safety, Lord Arryn. Come with me."

The old man sighed, "You shouldn't have put yourself in danger for me, Jon; I am old and not worth dying for."

'Dear gods, I wonder if that is how I sound to Enzo and Serana.' Jon shook his head, "I'll decide that for myself, thanks. Now, get your things; we need to go. There are guards everywhere."

"I would expect nothing less. Despite my best efforts, over 3/4ths of the castle staff has been bought by the Lannisters -either officially or unofficially," Lord Arryn grumbled. "I just need to finish packing up these items and then we can go."

"I'll get them," Jon stated, striding over and taking the bag from the man's hand. Not caring much for neatness, he swept everything into the satchel as Lord Arryn stepped back and immediately started for the door. "Alright, let's go."

The old man nodded as he opened the door, "There is a secret stairwell that lets out at the sta-gwaarah!"

A thick sword, easily as long as some women were tall, was thrust through Lord Arryn's chest as Jon watched on in horror. An eternity seemed to pass before the blade was yanked back and the limp, lifeless body for the Lord of the Vale crumpled to the ground before being callously kicked away by the huge, lumbering form of the Mountain.

The lumbering hulk's massive frame completely filled up the doorway; Clegane even had to crouch to get through it, closing the door behind himself as his thick armor clanked and clattered. Beneath his helm, the Mountain grinned like a rabid dog.

Jon took careful, measured steps backward, moving in tandem with Clegane's lumbering steps towards him. When he could go back no further, Jon circled to the left as the Mountain continued to mirror him, a dark glee glinting him his eyes.

'He enjoys games, I bet, or, at least, ones where he comes out on top,' Jon thought. 'Let's see how much he likes it when I changed the rules.'

When he got Clegane where he wanted him, Jon froze and offered up a vicious wolfish smile of his own. "FUS RO DAH!"

A window exploded, fragmented shards of glass spraying into the air. Infirmary beds were thrown against the wall, their wooden frames imploding upon impact. Any loose objects were blown away and the Moutain was flung into the sturdy brickwork behind him.

Despite the urgency of his situation, Jon felt like playing with his prey. He watched as Clegane started to struggle to his feet with a roar. He let the man get almost to his feet before opening his mouth once again.

"GAAN LAH HAAS!"

The Mountain was overtaken by the power of Jon's Thu'um, falling back to the floor as every bit of his vitality was drained from his body.

"You know," Jon said casually as he crouched by the man's side, pulling off his helmet so he could see Clegane's ruddy face, "I was going to do with poison but I would be lying if I said that I didn't prefer getting to kill you in person."

The Mountain bared is teeth in a fearsome snarl, his eyes burning with hatred, but the man didn't have the strength to speak, let alone fight.

"One of the nice things about killing you this way is that I can tell you why you're going to die," Jon said as he searched around the now demolished room. His eyes fell on a metal candlestick holder and he picked it up, testing its weight and deeming it heavy enough. "If I were in a more heroic mood, I could tell you that your death is compensation for all those you've hurt but I'm not going to do that."

Jon bent over Clegane, making extra sure he was looking the man dead in the eye. "My name is Jaehaerys Targaryen and I am the only remaining child of Rhaegar Targaryen. You killed my family and you are going to die because no one hurts my family."

With one final smile, Jon raised the candlestick holder high and brought it down on the Mountain's head.

Then he did it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again once more until the candlestick holder actually bent from the force of Jon's blows. He dropped it and panted, whipping his blood-splattered face off with the back of his hand as he stared down at the caved-in mess that was once Gregor Clegane's face.

'Shame,' Jon thought, as he felt Clegane's neck for a pulse and found none. 'It was over so quick.'

Then his fingertips felt the thin chain of a necklace. Curiously, Jon pulled it out from under the man's breastplate and stared down at the gold mediation with confusion. It was a simple golden disk with the impression a running hound with its head cocked to the side and whose eyes were made from two small rubies.

It was the rubies that caught Jon's attention; they looked so familiar.

'Where have I seen them before,' he wondered, running his thumb over the surface fo the mediation and staring into the gems. 'They almost look like...'

A sickening realization hit Jon's gut hard, filling it with a cold that was swiftly replaced by a burning fury. Enraged, he ripped the necklace from the Mountain's neck and tucked it into his pocket. 'Of course, he would take trophies.'

Leaving the fruits of his labor to rot on the floor, Jon went over the crumpled form of Jon Arryn and did him the respect of righting his body and closing the man's eyes.

'I'm sorry, Lord Arryn,' he thought sadly. 'I wish I could have saved you. You survived so much, for that to be your end was just undignified.'

Creak!

The sound of the door opening had Jon looking up and into the scarred, mangled face of Sandor Clegane.

For a long moment, things seemed to freeze. The Hound's eyes slid from Jon's gore-splattered face and clothes to the massive stab wound in the center of a dead Lord Arryn's chest to the corpse of his own older brother and then back to Jon.

His face twisted in rage and he thundered towards the young Dovahkiin with hate in his eyes; Jon backed up until he was almost pressed into a wall and start to say something only to be grabbed by the collar and hoisted into the air.

"YOU TOOK MY REVENGE FROM ME!"

Jon clawed at the Hound's hands; he didn't want to hurt this man, he had no reason to, but he almost needed to getaway. He shrugged in the large man's grasp and, out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught sight of one of the blown-out windows.

'That will have to do, guess I'm taking the scenic exit.'

He shot a hand out and grabbed at the Hound's face, digging his thumb into one of the still oozing blisters that littered the man's face. He howled in pain and loosened his grip; Jon seized the opportunity, driving the soles of his boots into the younger -and now only- Clegane's gut and pushing off. The momentum freed him from the Hound's grasp and Jon tumbled backward and out the window.

Through the air and upside-down, he fell -the ground beneath rushing every nearer- until Jon was able to twist himself around and grab ahold of a ledge to catch himself.

Crack!

Jon winced at the surge of pain that flooded his hand and rushed up his arm to his jarred shoulder. 'There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand and I'm willing to bet that I just broke nine of them.'

Ignoring that for now, Jon looked around until he spotted an open window and began climbing.

Jon got back to his room just as he was finishing up healing his shoulder and hand, something the was rendered partly moot when he had to through himself against the door to get it opened. Under different circumstances, Jon would probably find a different way to deal with the problem but he was having a really fucking bad day so he was entitled to a little desperation.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thu-eeeht!

Finally, the door slid open just enough for Jon to slip inside, sparing an odd glance to the couch that been turned on its side and proper up against the door as a barricade.

"Jon!"

Two voices -both filled with relief- called his name and Jon let out a sigh of relief when laid eyes on Serana, who dropped out of fighting stance at the sight of him and let the lightning dancing at her fingertips fade away and Sansa, who stood up from where she'd been hiding crouched beside Jon's bed.

"Thank the gods, you're both alright!" he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"What the hell is going on?" Serana demand, eyeing his bloody clothes. "I was just doing as you asked when we were attacked by guards who tried to arrest us! I killed them, of course, and then we barricaded ourselves in here. I was debating just leaving but wanted to see if you'd show up."

"Cersei Lannister is hellbent on seeing her son on the throne, I guess she wanted to make sure the coronation went without interruption," Jon grunted, stripping off his doublet, leaving him in just a -significantly less filthy- undershirt, scrubbing his face in the washbasin.

Less bloody now, he turned to a wide-eyed Sansa and asked, "Where is Arya?"

Sansa shook her head, "They… they killed Septa Mordane… r-right in front of me."

"Shame," Jon said, trying to muster some sense of sadness for the woman who constantly went out of her way to remind Jon that his existence was 'sinful;' and that he should always remember to be grateful for what he was given. "Where is your sister?"

Sansa swallowed hard, her face pale against her auburn hair, and tried to compose herself. "Arya- she snuck out, said she wanted to meet with her dancing instructor, and ask him to come back to Winterfell with us -Father was making plans for us to return immediately and she was upset about it- but I… I don't know if she made it."

Jon forced the panic the surged down. 'Arya isn't helpless,' he reminded himself, 'and, if she made it to Syrio's house, she isn't alone either.'

"At least she isn't in the castle," he offered, partly to himself and partly to a worried-looking Serana. "I just wish I knew why the Queen decided to make her move today."

A small squeak sounded from behind Jon and he froze before turning slowly to face his distraught cousin.

"Sansa," he said slowly, keeping his voice cold and low, "is there something you want to tell us?"

The eldest Stark daughter looked between him and Serana rapidly, like a rabbit cornered by two predators; her face fell, eyes clenched tight against forming tears.

"I didn't want to go!" she shouted. "Father was making us leave; he wasn't going to let me marry Joffrey! I didn't want to go so I snuck off to see the queen! I begged her to help me stay and she promised she would! I didn't mean for this to happen but I just-"

SLAP!

Sansa felt to the ground, hand cupping her reddening cheek as she stared up at Jon with horrified Tully blue eyes. "Y-y-you can't do that to me!" she whimpered, "I-"

"You STUPID little girl!" Jon roared, overcome with rage and he bore down on the quaking Sansa. "I want you to know that you are just as responsible for the people who die today as the Queen, understand?"

The girl shook her head desperately. "It's not my fault, I just-"

"Take her down to the ship," Jon told Serana, turning his back on his cousin and refusing to even look at her. "Your mother and Enzo will meet you there. I'm going to go get Arya and a few others, it shouldn't take too long."

"This place is crawling with Lannister men, it won't be a quiet escape," Serana noted.

"Do what you have to," Jon instruction. "I don't care about quiet anymore, just survival."

Serana didn't look so sure but gave a reluctant nodded before, after a moment of hesitation, grabbing Jon by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a hard kiss.

"Be safe," she commanded after releasing him.

Jon felt himself blush and let out a huff of laughter before going out of his window. Taking a leap of faith, he could only think, 'Lady Luck, don't abandon me now.'

Valerica of Clan Volkihar I

"Lord Arryn? Hello?" Valerica called out, knocking on the door to Hand of the King's bed-chamber; no one answered by finding it unlocked, she let herself in. "I'm here to give you another dose of your medicine. Please don't struggle again; this doesn't have to be unpleasant."

But there was no one there, the chamber was empty. That being said, the stench of poison still lingered, hanging heavily in the bedding, furniture, and the dirty clothes in the hamper; it was a pungent, somewhat fishy odor. Of course, it was only Valerica's support senses that allowed her to smell it and any moral man would only notice the slightest bit of a bad smell in the room.

Harkon -sometimes out of fondness and sometimes as an insult to her work- had called her his 'Lady Nightshade.' He'd said that she woman who knew poisons like no other.

The title was well earned.

Valerica closed her eyes, took a deep (usually unnecessary) breathe, and let her nose lead her around the room. The bed, the hamper, the lounging area... all obvious hot spot but then... there was two more -a pitcher of water and a bottle of red wine.

The water only to a small sniff to confirm her suspicion -poisoned, of course, but only a relatively minor dose; enough to kill a door mouse maybe, but not a man. The wine, however, positively stank with it!

There was another smell though, barely discernable through the stench of wine and poison, and it was coming from the bottle's label. Curiously, she peeled it off and gave it a delicate sniff -water mixed with plant pulp. How odd...

Deciding to test a theory, Valerica held it up to the light of the window and looked it over. When she spotted it, Valerica smirked -a watermark.

'Is that a bird?'

Before she could think too much on it, the door was flung open and slammed against the wall with extreme force. Valerica folded and tucked the label into the waistband of her skirt and gave a bored look to the dozen or so guards the flooded into the room.

One looked at her and demanded sharply, "Where is the Lord Hand?"

Valerica, thoroughly unamused by his tone, just glanced around the room and then back at him. "I give up. Where is he?"

The man snarled at her lip, "Now see here, by the order of the Queen we are to take him into custody!"

"That is of no consequence to me and he isn't here," she said shortly, "so go away; I am busy."

The elder vampiress watched passively as a second guard leaned over and whispered something into the ear of the leader. Under the clanking of their armor, Valerica heard her and Serana's name, which made her perk up significantly when they turned back to her.

"You must come with us, Ma'am."

"No, I don't think I will be doing that."

The man was started, seemingly unused to being disobeyed. His mouth fell open and he blinked rapidly, "but... you must!"

"No, I will not," she repeated.

Then came the anger. "Don't make us use force!"

"Force you?" Valerica smirked, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh no, I invite you."

The guards charged forward. The power of a pure-blooded vampire flowed through her veins. Then the screams started.

"This is terrible!"

"Yes, as you've said several times already," the woman said, tossing the limp body of another guard to the side as she steered her new charge -Samwise, was it?- through the castle halls. "And, while I agree that it is inconvenient, I must admit that it is nice to stretch my legs again; it has been a while."

Samwise's only response was a horrified whimper which was promptly cut off by the shriek of a young girl.

"What was that?" the hirsute young man asked, a new kind of alarm in his voice.

"I don't know but it is unimportant," Valerica shrugged, peeking down a stairwell to check that it was clear.

"Unimportant? Someone could be in trouble!"

"That is likely," she agreed, "but it is my job to get you to safety, not play the hero."

Samwise gave her a disapproving look and then, though still reeking of fright, drew himself up and rushed off in the direction of the scream. Valerica watched him go, contemplating just leaving him behind; it was of no importance to her what happened to the boy, she didn't know him.

And yet...

'It would make Serana happy,' she told herself.

Then, with a roll of her eyes, Valerica followed, catching up quickly -speed was not the Samwise's strong suit. Pausing, she took a minute to survey the strange scene that was playing out before her.

"Get! Off!" Samwise demanded, his arms wrapped around the neck of a guard from and using his considerable weight to pull him away from a girl she faintly recognized -the one with half of her face made from stone.

'Clearly some sort of medical ailment,' Valerica pondered ideally. 'If the girl died she would be a fascinating specimen to study.'

Another guard was being fought off by a slight man with graying brown who was wielding a coat rack like a weapon, swinging it wildly to keep his attacker at bay. The final of this strange trio was the hairy-lipped woman was slouched against a wall, her hands pressed into a massive slash mark on her abdomen that, even at a glance, Valerica could tell was fatal.

She watched them all struggle with vague amusement for a moment before growing bored of all this tomfoolery.

"Enough!"

With a flick of her wrist, Valerica fell both guards in quick succession with powerful bolts of lightning, ending the fighting. All eyes, even the dying woman's, turned to her with such shook that one would think they'd never seen a bit of combat magic before.

"Are you quite done playing the brave warrior?" she asked Samwise, who gave a dumbstruck nod. "Good, then it is time to go."

"Go?" Samwise gasped, affronted by the very suggestion. "We can't just leave! They-" he gestured to the small group "-need our help."

Before Valerica could say anything, the other woman piped up, her voice low and pained. "Leave me behind."

"Mother, I won't-!" "Lady Selyse, I can't-"

She held up a bloody hand and shook her head, "I'm on death's door as it; I'll just slow you down. Lord Davos, get Shireen out of here; that is all that matters now."

"But-"

"Her wound is fatal," Valerica confirmed grimly. "Even if we tried to move her, she would just bleed out faster."

"No!"

The dark-haired little girl collapsed by her mother's side, taking her hand as the tears started to fill her eyes. "I don't want you to die, Mother!"

"Oh, Shireen, I don't want to leave you either but I doubt either of us will get our wish," Selyse said sadly, brushing the girl's hair from her face before cupping her chin. "Shireen, I know... life has been so unkind to. I know... your father and I were far from the best parents to you... but, if you can, I want you to gain strength from our deaths, not sadness. You are a Baratheon, Shireen, and no one will ever take that from you. Do you understand?"

Tearfully, the girl nodded. "I do. Goodbye, Mama."

"Goodbye, Shireen." The woman stroked her daughter's hair once more and turned her attention to the man. "Davos, I did not approve of Stannis making you Shireen's guardian but now I must entrust you will her completely safety. Protect her and give her all the love I never thought to show her; this is my final order to you."

"I couldn't love her more if she was my own," the man said, "and that will never change. I will proudly serve her until my dying day."

"Good," Selyse whispered before letting out a hard, wet cough. Then she turned to Valerica and look of understanding passed between them.

"Take her away, she shouldn't see this," Valerica commanded, nodding towards Shireen. "I will be along shortly."

With no great ease, Samwise and the other man pulled the girl -now with silent tears running down her face- away, vanishing from sight as they rounded a corner. When they were gone, Valerica crouch beside the dying woman and said, "I could save you, if you asked for it. You'd be different afterward, but you'd be able to stay with your daughter."

"My daughter... She's my only living child and I never did right by her," Selyse sighed, sadness filling every word.

"I have a daughter as well; I used her for my own ends, telling myself it was the right thing to do, and now she doesn't trust me. I'm not even sure she still cares for me," Valerica offered. "But I will never stop trying to right my wrongs with her and, even if she never forgives me, I will never stop loving her."

"If only I had time to do the same."

"You could," the elder vampiress offered once more, "you only need to ask."

"No," Selyse shook her head firmly. "I don't know what you are but I don't want to be it. No, I am ready to die and ascended to the Hall of Light so that I may sit beside my Lord for the rest of eternity."

Valerica gave a hum of understanding, though she was honestly a little disappointed. "Bleeding out can take a long time, you know?"

The woman gave a grim nod, "And if the Lannisters find me still alive they'll do their damnedest to keep me that way -either for leverage on my daughter or to torture me for information. Do what you must, just make it quick."

Valerica put a hand on Selyse's shoulder, gripping the woman's chin with her other. "Your daughter will be safe, I swear to it."

With one final determined nod, the woman closed her eyes and...

SNAP!

Lady Selyse Baratheon's lifeless body fell limply to the side, sprawled on the floor like a discarded puppet. It was a quick end... painless and immediate.

Valerica rose to her feet went to join the rest of her odd little group. Shireen's eyes -no longer crying but still red and swollen- snapped to her immediately. "My mother-"

"Met her end with dignity and no pain," she comforted. "But now we must go."

"I don't know how you intend to escape," the man, Davos, said. "The castle is absolutely crawling with guards."

"Hmmm, it will be harder to fight them off with a child present," Valerica considered, rubbing her chin. Then something caught her eye; she turned and saw out a window where four stone statues of griffins sat perched.

"I have an idea."

Serana II

The older of the two Stark girls smelt like lemon-scented perfumed power; sharp and overt and applied a little too heavily. But, in this case, the overpowering smell allowed Serana's nose to lead her right to the girl.

"There you are," she said, strolling right into the small sunroom where Sanda sat, startling the girl who jumped in her seat in and spilling tea over her hands. The gray-dressed woman who sat with her glared at Serana, giving her tightly-fitted trousers and low neckline a look of open disdain. Serana met the woman's gaze, deliberately rolled her eyes, and glared until the only woman looked away.

"Lady Serana," Sanda said, jumping to her feet then falling into a clumsy curtsy. "How can I help you?"

"Where is Arya?" she asked, brushing off the question. "Jon asked me to find you both; he's leaving soon and wants to give you both something."

"What is he giving us?"

The vampiress gave an honest shrugged, "Going away present? Do you know where your sister is?"

Sanda shifted uncomfortably, glancing ever so slightly at the gray-clad woman. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted reluctantly. "I think she went into the city for something... but she'll be back soon, I'm sure."

'So either to check up on her sword or to Syrio's house,' Serana reasoned, Arya had no reason to go anywhere else. 'She should have waited for one of us to take her.'

Even so, she shot another hard glare when the woman huffed and grumbled under her breath, "Disobientant girl, someone needs to teach her a lesson."

"Alright, I'll get her later," Serana decided to herself before turning back to Sanda. "Come with me, I suppose that Jon will still want to see you."

The girl didn't seem to know how to respond to this, looking down at the floor and to the woman, but eventually turned back to Serana and nodding.

"Lady Sansa-" oh right, her name was Sansa "-this is hardly appropriate," the gray-clad woman fretted. "To be alone with-"

"My brother," the auburn-haired girl argued softly. "I'll be alone with my brother, Septa Mordane; there is no shame or harm in that."

'So she does have some sense of familial loyalty,' Serana noted, a smirk playing on her lips.

With that, they turned to go... only for the older woman, the septa, started to follow them. Serana turned and fixed her a hard look, "What do you think you're doing?"

Mordane froze at her look but huffed once more and drew herself up importantly, "It is my job to ensure Lady Sansa's dignity is maintained so I will accompany her to see her bastard relative."

Serana considered arguing -it wouldn't take much to send the woman away- but decided against it; it was a fight not worth having right now. "Fine," she snapped, "but you have to wait outside; you have no business spying on a moment between family."

The Septa started to argue but Sansa piped up, "That sounds like a fair arrangement. Shall we go along then?"

Through the castle, they went with Mordane whispering in Sansa's ear all the way, trying to talk the girl out of going. Serana overheard everything, her ears as sharp a death hound's, and the things she said made her clench her fists, the beginnings of lightning dancing against her palms. Instead, she focused on the castle and how it reminded her of where she grew up -grand and cold with secrets and histories a plenty- and she hated it just as much.

The hatred was only intensified when the rounded a corner, just a short distance from Jon's quarters, to see three guards in shiny golden armor coming towards them.

"Sansa Stark! Serana Volkihar!" the lead guard called. "By order of the Queen, you both are to come with us immediately!"

Confused but obedient, Sansa began to walk towards the men with Mordane right behind her only for Serana to step in front of the girl and block her path. "What is going on?" she demanded.

The men looked surprised that she didn't immediately obey their orders. The lead guard glowered and repeated, "Come with us, now!"

He tried to grab Serana's arm, only for her to smack his hand away and shoot him her own glare. "Don't. Touch. Me," she growled. "Now, either tell me what is going on or leave. Those are your only options."

"That is enough dramatics, girl" Mordane declared, stepping around Serana to stand with guards. "You-" she pointed towards Serana "-have obviously been raised improperly; you must learn proper obedience to authority figures. You need to gwaaahhh!"

Sansa shrieked from behind the vampiress' back as one of the guards plunged his sword into the back of the septa's throat, killing her instantly and spilling blood everywhere. The smell of the delicious liquid flooded Serana's senses and she had to hold her breath, less it get to her.

"Now," the guard hissed, "you both are going to come along without a word or fight, you hear?"

"No," the vampiress said simply, her face cool and blank. "Turn around and leave. This is your last chance to get out of this alive."

"Oh, for the love of... come here, little girl!" One of the men lunged forward and seized Serana by the forearm. She looked down at his hand, looked him dead in the eye, smiled sweetly, then slammed his head into the wall, crushing it and his helmet into a bloody pulp.

There was dead silence as the corpse fell to the ground, armor clattering against the stone floor loudly. Serana glanced at the other two guards, "So, do you still like your chance against this 'little girl'?"

The previously frozen men snapped out of their stupor at her words and charged, drawing their swords -a poor weapon to use in close quarters. Serana kicked one of them square in the chest, sending him flying back, and grabbed the other by his breastplate, tossing him out a window in one smooth motion. The one she kicked got back to his feet but his second wind was cut brutally short when Serana snapped his neck.

That annoyance dealt with, she turned to Sansa and said a quick, "Let's go."

But the girl stumbled back, eyes wide and horrified as she stared that the carnage around them and the blood on Serana's hands. "Wh... what are you?"

"For now? The person protecting you. Now, come on."

With that, Serana grabbed Sansa by the wrist and dragged her the rest of the way to Jon's room, throwing the girl inside before locking it with the key he'd given her and, just for some added protection, propped the couch up against the door.

"We'll wait a bit to see if Jon comes back," she decided out loud, ignoring Sansa's pacing and quiet breakdown. "If he isn't here soon then I'm getting you out of here alone."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," the girl muttered to herself, rubbing her arms. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen to me."

"That is what everyone says," the vampiress shrugged and eyed the door. 'You better get back here soon, Jon.'

"On your feet," Serana demanded, sparing the crumpled Stark girl the smallest glance as she riffled through the few remain pairs of Jon's clothes in the dresser.

"He hit me!" Sansa gasped, still clutching at her cheek. "He hit me! Jon hit me!"

"Obviously," she snapped. "And you should be grateful; I've seen him execute soldiers under his command for lesser betrayals."

"I didn't betray anyone!"

"Fine, lesser idiocies the !" Serana rolled her eyes, throwing a pair of trousers and a tunic shirt at the girl. "Now, quit your crying and put these on!"

Sansa fumbled with the clothes, "These are men's clothes!"

"I know, they are easier to move in."

"Why is that important?"

Serana groaned at the girl's refusal to cooperate, "We're going out the window, you're dress will catch in the wind. Now, put them on!"

Sansa shook her head, "No, it would be inappropriate!"

"How does that matter?" Serana asked thoroughly exasperated. "But, you know what? Fine!"

In one swift motion, she grabbed ahold of the skirt of Sansa's pretty lavender dress and tore a large rip up to the girl's mid-thigh as she let out a shocked gasp. "There! That will help you move better."

Sansa shot her an indignant look, "You can't-"

Serana cut the girl off, "You find that I don't give a damn about anything that comes out of your mouth. I'm responsible for getting you to the ship safety, not for protecting your feelings or dignity. So shut most and listen to me or be killed."

"But-"

Serana's sensitive ears picked up the fastly approaching clattering of metal armor against stone floors and, with a hissed spell, spot a gust of magical ice at the door, freezing it shut. "No more complaining, its time to go"

She grabbed Sansa by the upper-arm, dragging her up and over to the open window. Serana when first, demonstrating that there was a solid ledge only a few feel down and how to shimmy along the wall. "Just don't look down; it's not nearly as hard as it appears."

"But what if I fall?" the girl asked worriedly, looking down at the ground far below.

"Then you will die."

Sansa shrunk back, shaking her head. "No, no. I just can't do this!"

THUD! THUD! THUD! THWACK!

At the sound of an ax hitting the wooden door, Serana seized Sansa by the wrist and pulled her out the window, "You don't have a choice."

It was slow going, Serana was nimble as a cat and had plenty of practice scaling the walls of the castles and keeps but Sansa had, obviously, not. To make matters worse, the not-insignificant wind shear was pulling at the girl's torn skirt which she was struggling the keep down.

This meant that Sansa had only one hand on the castle wall.

"AHHHHHH!"

The girl lost her balance and fell... but only a few feet before Serana caught and pulled her back up.

"I did that for Jon," Serana said bluntly. "I did that for Arya. They'd probably be sad if you ended up a splatter. Pay attention to your footing."

If nothing else, the near-death experience made the girl focus on the task ahead of them and they managed to make their way down a few floors of the castle then to the top of a nearby open-air walkway. Serana instructed Sansa to stay put as she swung herself into the walkway and caught the auburn-haired girl as she dropped down, pulling her inside.

"Where are we?" she asked. "I don't recognize this part of the castle."

"I don't know," Serana admitted. "Shall we go find out?"

Together, the two crept through the halls at one point passing the open door of a washing room. "Wait," the vampiress said, holding her hand up to stop Sansa. She darted inside the empty rooms and retrieved two brown rough-spun hooded cloaks. "Put this one."

Sansa wrinkled her nose but did as she was told without complaint and they set out again, ducking into closets and behind curtains to avoid guards. It was excruciatingly slow going but, eventually, they were close to the exit. So close and yet...

"Get off of me! Let me go!"

"That was Princess Myrcella!" Sansa realized. "She needs help."

Then she rushed off down a stairwell and toward the direction of the screams, leaving Serana to swear and chase after her. 'She chooses now to care about others!'

She followed the girl to a small courtyard where she skidded to a stop, eyes wide at what she was seeing. There were a dozen guards in the courtyard, two of whom had ahold of the younger royal children with the princess being held tight by her braided hair.

Perhaps the biggest though was that Prince -or was it King?- Joffrey was there as well, snuggly swinging around a sword he clearly had no idea how to use around.

"Joff!" Sansa called out, trying to run to the blond young man and only stopped by Serana grabbing the back of her cloak. "Joff, what is going on?"

"Oh, hello, Sansa," the prat said, voice friendly and relaxed. "I wondering where you went; we've been looking for you. Why don't you come over and join us?"

The girl hesitated but started to step forward but froze when the princess shouted out, "Don't listen to him! Run away, both of you! Right now!"

The guard holding on to her gave Myrcella a shake, using her braid to whip the girl's head around, "Shut up, you little brat!"

Instead, the princess swiftly threw herself back against the much larger man which threw him off balance just enough that, when she jolted forward, Myrcella's braid slipped from his hand and freeing her. Myrcella rushed towards the two women, nibbling avoiding the grasping hands of the rest of the guards and coming to duck behind Serana, who shifted into a fighting stance -ready for this to turn bloody.

"That was very naughty, little sister," the Prat Prince mocked, though his eyes showed legitimate annoyance. "You'll have to be punished for that. I have an idea! I'm going to lock you and Sansa here up in the Maiden Vault, then-"

"SHUT UP!" Tommen howled, struggling against his own captor. "SHUT UP, YOU ARSE!"

The blond prince whirled around on his younger brother, "And I think that I'll cut out your tongue, you stupid little-"

A roaring little Tommen managed to pull away from the guard and threw himself at his older brother, grabbing his arm and holding on with all his might.

"Tommen!" Myrcella cried.

But it was too late, the Prat Prince shoved his brother away and the young boy fell back, head hitting the stone path of the courtyard with a sickenly loud 'CRACK!,' blood beginning to leak out onto the ground.

Serana, who heard the sound louder than anyone, also was 'blessed' with hearing the boy's final heartbeats as he died. Then she heard the twin shrieks of Myrcella and Sansa as gasps filled the air as all eyes turned to Joffrey.

The young man was bright red and snarled as he commanded the guards, "What are you doing?! Kill them right now! They attacked me and killed Prince Tommen! KILL THEM!"

The guards hesitated at first but then started to advance on the trio.

'I don't think so,' Serana though coldly. She summoned the lightning to her fingertips and, ruthlessly, she blasted it into the crowd, the blasts of electricity chaining from one guard to another -that was the downside as wearing metal.

They didn't stand a chance.

"Wha.." the monstrous young man gasped, falling back on his ass as he tried to crawl back from the smoldering corpses of his guards. "How..."

"I HATE YOU!"

Little hands tore the danger off of Serana's belt and Myrcella ran forward, jumping on and pinning her older brother down. She raised the up blade, gripping it with both hands, and-

"No, wait!" Serana shouted, rushing towards the girl.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

With every declaration, Mycrella stabbed Joffrey square in the heart -if he even had one- and spraying blood every.

"That's enough! That's enough!" the vampiress said, grabbing the dagger away and pulling the girl off her dying brother. "You've killed him; it's done!"

"No!" Mycrella shouted, "Not until I get him back for killing... Tommen? Tommen!"

She tried to run toward her younger brother but Serana tightened her grip, forcing the young girl to look her in the eye. "Tommen is gone. There is nothing you can do for him. We need to leave right now. Do you understand?"

The princess let out a horribly broken dry sob but rose to her feet.

'Strong girl' she thought, feeling a twinge of pride. Then she looked to Sansa who was crouched beside a nearly dead Joffrey, pressing her hands against the stab wounds in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

Serana grabbed her under the arm and dragged the girl to her feet, "Come on."

Sansa didn't protest, just giving one last desperate look to the dying young man. Serana scoffed, "Do you still think he was your Golden Prince?"

Next Chapter: As blood continues to be spilled in King's Landing, many more scramble to escape. Who will live and who will die?

Out of curiosity, have I ever told you guys were Enzo's name came from? If not, please guess. It'll be +10 Vix points to anyone who gets it right.