Song: Through the Valley by Shawn James
Arya
Arya crept down into the shadows, waiting patiently. Her wounds were beginning to heal, but crouching down still strained them. Occasionally, she would bite her lip to keep from hissing in pain.
Admittedly, if she wasn't aware she had a place to go for refuge in Westeros, perhaps she wouldn't be so eager to leave Braavos. But none the less, it had to be done. She had been betrayed, almost killed. This place was never a home for her and now she knew it for sure.
Arya Stark was too proud of her name and identity to ever renounce it completely.
Footsteps echoed throughout the hall, Arya held her breath to avoid making so much as an exhale.
She watched from the shadows as Jaqen noticed the trail of blood, immediately suspicious but following it anyway.
Finally, he seen what she wanted him to see. The face of the Waif, separated entirely from her head and draped over the stone head of another.
As Jaqen was taken with the display, Arya brought forth Needle and approached him from behind, angling the tip of the blade towards his head.
"You told her to kill me," she spoke, informing him of her presence. He turned slowly, having the decency to at least look a little guilty.
"Yes," Jaqen admitted. "But here you are, and there she is."
Arya's chest tightened as he turned and walked forwards until his chest pressed against the end of her sword.
"Finally, a girl is no one."
"A girl is Arya Stark, of Winterfell," Arya spoke proudly, finding it freeing to accept her identity after months of denying it. "And I'm going home."
Jaqen's lips turned up in a smirk, his head bobbing in a single nod.
"Does a girl have a home to go back to?" He asked, raising his eyebrows mockingly.
"I'm going to my sister," Arya dropped her arm and shoved Needle into a holding by her hip. Turning, she walked away from Jaqen - not even daring to look back.
"Are you sure Sansa is even alive?" He called out to her.
"I never said it was Sansa," she muttered under her breath, making her way towards the exit and leaving Jaqen H'gar, once and for all.
-
Fianna
"Are you all set to leave, Paulina?" Fianna kindly asked her wet nurse, who cradled Eddie in her arms as Fianna held Aifric.
They were stood in the courtyard of Baelfort, a horde of people surrounding them and preparing their own horses for leave.
"Yes, my lady, you don't need to keep asking! It's a pleasure to accompany you to help with the twins," Paulina gushed excitedly, the twins had taken such a liking to her. If Fianna was sure that it was safe, she would have left the twins here under her care. But Baelfort wouldn't be guarded well once her party departed, and she couldn't bear to leave the twins once again.
Riding in a carriage was something she despised doing, much like her father had before his health deteriorated so much that he was left with little choice but to.
Grey Wind trotted up to her side, the direwolf was truly humongous now. He had reached his full size a short while after the Red Wedding. If there was room for it, she would have allowed him to travel inside the carriage with her for added protection. But alas, Grey Wind would be running alongside the carriage next to her.
"You're all set too, little man?" Fianna asked Rickon, although 'little' may have been an inaccuracy at this point. He rolled his eyes, huffing and looking up to his good sister.
"Fianna, I'm not little any more. I'm up to your shoulder, for the gods sake," he cussed, prompting her to nip his arm gently.
"Not big enough to swear like a man, that's for sure," she remarked, causing him to cower back and apologise. "Are you sure you want to ride a horse today? I'm perfectly fine with you riding along with us in the carriage."
"I'm too old to still ride in the carriage, Fianna! You promised you'd let me ride my horse today!" He whined, becoming increasingly stubborn as he grew older - much like his brother, she realised.
"Fine!" She accepted, "but if you so much as step a hoof away from the vanguard I'll be tying you to the carriage by a rope and dragging you along behind us!"
"Deal!" He agreed giddily, rushing off towards his horse. "Osha! She said yes!"
"You needn't worry, Fianna," a deep voice spoke from behind her, causing her to turn with a soft smile. "I'll look after your home."
"It's your home now too, that's why," she teased her grandfather, tilting her head up to look at his face as he placed his hand on her arm. Bonifer grinned back heartily, calming her worries - if only a little.
"You may hate your lineage, child," his tone dropped to a serious one as he allowed Aifric to grab onto his fingers and shove them into her mouth, suckling on them childishly. "But only the product of a Bua, Targaryen and Hasty would come up with a plan as ingenious as you have."
Fianna nodded her head in response, still not having fully accepted her background. He squeezed her arm once more before moving along, allowing Tiernan to approach her next.
"It's about time you get to go and fight, isn't it?" Fianna jibed, poking him in the stomach.
"Maybe things wouldn't have gone to shit so many times if you didn't leave me here before," he threw back with a smirk. "You sure you want to do this?"
Fianna looked down to her daughter, who rested on her hip, looking around her curiously. Running her fingers through Aifric's wavy hair, that had grown down long enough to cover her small ears now.
"Yes, I'm sure," she couldn't help but feel excitement. The entire scene had felt like deja-vu to her, mimicking the day when she departed Baelfort to join Robb Stark's vanguard. Just like Robb, Fianna had called her banners and would be gone for a couple of months.
"You know, I was never one for tradition," she brought up suddenly, a glimmer in her eye, "I was the first Northern Queen, the Lord of my house, I mean, for gods sake I got married in my armour." Tiernan laughed at this, shaking his head. "But there's one tradition I would like to follow."
He raised his eyebrows curiously.
"I don't know how much longer I'll be Queen, or if I'll even return to Baelfort. If Walder Frey taught me anything, it's that you can't ever expect to be safe," her voice lowered, filling with sadness. "But while I am," she started, lifting her hand in the air and placing it down on his shoulder. "Tiernan Brady, I name you Hand of the Queen."
His smirk fell, the easy expression he held completely wiping off his face. His eyes immediately began to water, which he tried to hide by clearing his throat and looking away momentarily.
"Well, it's about bloody time," he laughed once, causing her to break into laughter as well.
-
Ike
"That was amazing," Ike exhaled, breathless. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, but realised he was only smearing more blood onto his face.
"I knew you'd like that," Thoros chuckled, panting softly as well.
The group had gotten wind that a small section of the Lannister army had splintered off and were torturing a local village, the Brotherhood were quick to respond, far outnumbering them.
The work they were doing was quite fulfilling for Ike, who was finally able to ease up on some of the self-hatred he had harboured for himself for so long now.
"You done well, lad," Beric clapped him on the back, they had all taken note of Ike's fighting skill, and knew that there was no way he was a mere serving boy.
"So, where'd you learn to fight like that?" Anguy pressed, once again. The man had made it his mission to get Ike's history and background- much to his annoyance.
"Give it a rest, Anguy," Thoros huffed, rolling his eyes and popping the cap off of his flask so he could take a swig. It wasn't often that the image of Thoros wasn't accompanied by a beverage of sorts.
Later that evening, as they sat by the fire, Beric chose to sit next to Ike on the fallen tree log they had set up. Not many people in the brotherhood liked to sit near Ike. Many were weary of him, not that he minded. He'd rather be left alone anyway.
"You know, Anguy pushes you for an answer because we can all see you're burdened by your past," Beric commented casually, chewing on the cooked rabbit meat they had roasted over a fire.
"He might be right, but that doesn't mean I have to share it," Ike replied frustratedly, growing tired of the groups pressure.
"You don't have to, but if you think that none of us haven't done something worse, you'd be dead wrong."
Ike managed a scoff at this, looking to his companion with eyes wide with sarcasm, "believe me, I don't think there's a man here who's done something worse than I have."
TW// mild mention of rape
"Did you rape anyone?" He outright asked, taking Ike aback.
"No," he grunted, insulted that he had asked.
"Then you're not as bad as Janeson over there," Beric pointed his finger towards the heavier man, who was sloppily eating like an animal. "He raped a servant girl when Renly Baratheon called his banners to Highgarden."
"And you choose to allow him to ride with us?" Ike hissed in disgust.
"If he did it again, we made it clear he'd die. Besides, we let you ride with us without even knowing what you had done."
He had a point, Ike realised, sighing dejectedly.
"I killed someone," he admitted, the shame creeping up his neck like a bitter wind.
"That's it?" Beric barked a laugh, "there's not a man here who hasn't killed someone, boy!"
"Not in battle. I... I killed the woman I loved," Ike's voice dropped to a whisper, a lump in his throat. He half expected to be thrown out of the group as quick as he joined.
"Why?" Beric pressed, eyebrows furrowed in question, but not in judgement.
"I don't know," Ike shook his head, his eyes staying forward. "I woke up and the first thing I see is this man telling me that the woman I loved, the woman I lay with and married, wasn't my woman at all. That she belonged to another and that I had killed her out of jealousy and concocted our entire relationship in my head."
"So... you're mad then?"
"I don't know, I suppose I'd have to be wouldn't I? Because even after two years I'm still not convinced that it wasn't real. I know what it was like to hold her in my arms, to love her, to lay with her."
Beric didn't answer, allowing Ike to reveal all to him and get it off his chest. The hole in his chest ached once more, as it always did when he thought of her.
"You want to know the craziest part about it?" When Beric nodded, Ike continued. "I had somehow convinced myself I was her husband too. A king at that."
Beric chuckled out of respect, but it was clear he didn't find it amusing that much. "Which king? Joffrey Baratheon I'd hope not?"
"No," Ike grumbled, anger flooding his veins at the mere mention of his name - for what reason, he was unaware of. "The King in the North, Robb Stark."
Beric's head snapped over, his brain working a mile a minute as he pulled Ike's words together in his head.
"Wait, Fianna Bua was the woman you loved? The one you killed?" He demanded, Ike suddenly felt sick to his stomach - he knew he shouldn't have mentioned anything.
"No- I, I've got to go. Take a piss," he stammered, standing up from the log to rush out of Beric's wrath. Or run away, he had yet to decide.
"Wait a minute, lad!" Beric called after him, gripping his arm and dragging him harshly back down to the log again. "What makes you think that Fianna Bua died?"
"They told me I had poisoned her," Ike shrugged, bile rising in his throat at the thought.
"But how do you know she died?"
"I seen the blood stains on the ground, everyone hated me at the Twins I had to escape just to be sure I wasn't killed on sight."
"Ike," Beric turned to the side, giving him his full attention. Ike had never seen him so serious, not even when they were in a fight. "I don't know how you're going to take this, but know that I am being honest. Fianna Bua- or Stark or whatever you may call her, she isn't dead."
Ike's initial reaction was one of anger, he had trusted in Beric enough to divulge his past with him, and he was turning it in to a joke.
"Lie to me again, Dondarrion-" he began to threaten, but was quickly cut off.
"I'm not lying, you fool! Ask anyone in this camp, Fianna Stark is the Queen in the North now. She survived the Red Wedding and escaped to Baelfort!"
Ike still wasn't sure if he should believe it, after all, what use would Ramsay have had to lie to him? Didn't he risk himself trying to help Ike escape the Twins? Beric watched as an expression of pain crossed Ike's face, along with utter confusion.
"Who told you that she was dead?" Beric questioned, and Ike felt compelled to answer.
"Ramsay did," he admitted.
"I hope you don't mean Ramsay Snow, from House Bolton," when Ike's expression looked more horrified than ever; Beric took that as confirmation.
"Seven hells, boy. You've been betrayed beyond belief," he let out a huff, running his hand over his thinning hair as he contemplated what to do, or say.
"You're definitely sure she's alive?" Ike's voice rang out, tiny and unsure of himself.
"God yes, lad. She took down the Dreadfort a couple of months back, completely destroyed it."
Realisation hit Ike like a winter wind, his body felt like a sheet of cold ice had been wrapped around it. He hadn't been hallucinating, well, not the first time anyway. Fianna really had been there, and he had ran.
"Tell me now and tell me true, boy," Beric gripped his shoulder tightly, bringing their heads together to drop their voices to murmurs. "Is your name Ike Rivers or is it not? Because if you have any doubt at all in your mind that it's not, you need to say it now."
Ike took a minute to think about it. He was still reeling over the news that Fianna was alive, his emotions were brimming to the top and as embarrassing as it was, he couldn't help but let out a small sob, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.
Ramsay had broken him down to nothing, and he had just accepted it, thanked him for it. The entire time his gut was telling him to be weary, he should have listened. When the name Bolton set an ice in his veins, he should have listened. When he saw Fianna, he should have ran straight for her and ended the confusion instantly, instead of the opposite direction. But he had been a coward.
Ike had always knew that his background was sketchy at best, all of his memories of his life before were either put into his head by Ramsay, or imagined up by his own subconscious. The small memories he did obtain, of a large castle in a cold land, he put it down to his madness.
But Ramsay was willing to lie to him about Fianna, was he willing to lie to him about who he was? Did he use Robb's memory loss to his advantage?
"No," he breathed, eyes still wet from fresh tears. "I don't think it is."
-
Bonifer
"They arrived a few minutes ago, we've been keeping them out, but Stannis demands to talk to Queen Fianna," a guard relayed to Bonifer, as they walked down the winding hallways of Baelfort towards the front entrance.
Bonifer Hasty, much like his granddaughter, wasn't always one for tradition. He was a good soldier, and fought well for whoever he had sworn allegiance to. But he wasn't afraid to bend oaths, like when he had fallen for the Targaryen princess, or when he had left the Baratheons to join his granddaughter.
Bonifer hadn't seen Stannis since the Battle of the Blackwater - and he wasn't eager to again. Bonifer had served four Kings in his lifetime - Robert, Stannis, Joffrey and now Fianna. He had experiences with them all, and each of them had their downfalls. But blood ties or not, Fianna was the one he would bend the knee to. She was compassionate, strong and intelligent. All qualities of a good leader, albeit if a little hotheaded.
When he approached the gate, he sent the word to have all archers on the wall on standby should Stannis make a move.
Bonifer called out for the gate to be raised, just enough to allow him through, and then shut again.
As he walked out to greet Stannis' party, the King had a similar idea - immediately dismounting his horse and walking towards his former Lord.
"Hasty," he remarked, giving him a once over. It was clear he was bitter over Bonifer's newfound allegiances. "I said I would speak to Fianna and Fianna only. Bring her out here, she doesn't need to cower behind her Lord like a little girl."
"Unfortunately, my granddaughter is not home at the moment," Bonifer replied, emphasising his relationship to her. He crossed his hands in front of him, the epitome of calm, while Stannis looked like a ball of fire - ready to explode.
"Well it's heartening to know that family means something to you, when oaths clearly do not."
"I didn't think oaths were still in place when myself and my men were left to die on the shore of King's Landing," Bonifer bit back.
"Where is the Queen then? Has she run into town to fetch herself a pretty dress?" Stannis mocked.
"You speak so little of her, yet it seems to me you came here to ask for her help."
"You know nothing, Hasty. I simply came to make her an offer she couldn't refuse."
"What? Give you her provisions and her men and in exchange you won't kill her?" Bonifer barked a laugh.
"Exactly," Stannis agreed, dead serious.
"Stannis," Bonifer sighed, feigning pity. "That deal has not worked for any other King in the country, and it will not work for Queen Fianna, either."
"That's 'your grace' to you, Hasty," he corrected.
"Not any more, it's not."
"So you mean to turn starving men away because of your pride?" Stannis demanded, growing increasingly angry.
"I can't do anything, I'm not the Lord of Baelfort. But speaking in the best interests of my granddaughter, then yes."
"I'm going to take back Winterfell, kill the Bolton's, and then I'm going to come back here, root you out of your keep and hang you all for treason to the crown."
"My lord," Bonifer remarked cheekily, gesturing above for the gate to be lifted again. "You won't be returning from Winterfell, and if you were half the man you were three years ago, you would know that."
-
Arya
The furs that bundled around her felt warm and itchy, where once they had felt enveloping and inviting.
Arya Stark hadn't realised just how accustomed she had become to the heat in Braavos until she had returned to Westeros. It seemed the further North she went, the colder it got - she couldn't imagine how cold Baelfort would be around now. Her father was right, Winter really was coming.
Deciding to treat herself for the night, she had stopped at an Inn she passed on her journey, for a hot meal and a warm bed for the night.
She was listening to Lannister soldiers who were seated at a bench behind her, eavesdropping as they discussed her great uncle - the Blackfish.
It seemed that Brynden, after fighting mercilessly, had finally regained full control of Riverrun - and the Lannisters were here to intervene.
"The old man will never give it up, the Tullys have held Riverrun for a thousand years, the place is a fortress!" One of the two exclaimed.
Arya contemplated stopping by there instead of going straight to the North, but then thought the better of it. If Lannister soldiers truly were headed for Riverrun, perhaps it best if she stayed well clear enough.
She was stronger now from her training, but not strong enough to take on an army.
"Arry!" A voice exclaimed from in front of her, breaking her out of her eavesdropping daze. Her eyes snapped up to see a figure she hadn't seen in years.
"Hello Hot Pie," she greeted, feeling genuine surprise and happiness from the encounter. "Sit down!"
He was clutching a tray of food in his hand, which he set down on the table as he moved to sit across from her.
"Who's that for?" She asked, without giving him a chance to answer. She took the load of bread and the knife from the tray, slicing into it and starting to eat.
She hummed at the taste, her eyes fluttering closed as her stomach was finally being filled.
"This is good," she admitted, eating more.
"The secret is browning the butter before mixing it in the dough, only most people don't do that cos it takes up too much time," he babbled.
"Hm, I'll be sure to do that," she mused.
"You've been making pies?" He asked in disbelief.
"One or two. I'm trying to learn," she admitted coyly.
"I can't believe you're here!" Hot Pie exclaimed happily. "Did you meet the big lady?"
"Big lady?" She echoed, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand.
"The knight, well I think she was a knight cos she had armour on. She was looking for your sister but I told her about you," Hot Pie went on. "She ever find you?"
"She found me."
Hot Pie hesitated before asking his next question, knowing full well Arya used to have a temper. "What happened to you, Arry?"
Arya put down her bread and looked to him, pausing for a moment. It wasn't a story to tell someone like Hot Pie, or anyone really.
"You got any ale?" She asked instead, immediately taking the cup and filling it from the jug after he pointed it out.
Arya downed the entire contents of the cup within seconds, Hot Pie could only watch in equal parts amazement and disgust.
"Where are you heading?"
"Baelfort."
"Why?"
"I heard Fianna's queen now."
"I heard she took down the Dreadfort, killed everyone who wouldn't pledge fealty and then burned the place to the ground. I can't believe she'd do that," Hot Pie rambled, Arya's eyebrows shooting up in interest.
"I'm glad she did. The Bolton's deserve it."
"Maybe," he conceded. "You'll have a hard time finding Queen Fianna at Baelfort though."
"Why?" Arya asked, perplexed.
"Well," he leaned in, looking like a Septa giving a lesson. "I heard that Fianna left Baelfort and she's making her way towards the Twins."
"Why would she go there? Is she going to take it down too?" Arya demanded.
"The exact opposite actually, rumour has it she's going there to marry one of his sons."
Arya stopped chewing her food at that instant, narrowing her eyes at her former friend.
"Why would she do that, Hot Pie? That doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe she needs more men to be able to take down Winterfell?" He suggested.
"But a marriage for an army is exactly what happened last-" Arya cut herself off, a thought coming to her head. Her eyes widened as she left down the last piece of uneaten bread, sucking the crumbs off of her fingers and scrambling to stand up.
"I've got to go," she gushed quickly, leaving the bench but stopping suddenly, clapping Hot Pie on the back. "Take care of yourself, Hot Pie."
"You too, Arry," he replied kindly back, watching her as she dashed outside, straight to her horse and ignoring the fact she had paid for a room for the night.
As she mounted the horse, she remembered something Fianna had told her long ago - about being able to tell directions by moss on the tree.
And with that in mind, she set off further North. Towards the Twins.
-
Not to be dramatic, but the next chapter is probably one of the three biggest chapters in the book(the first being the Red Wedding, the second being the next chapter and the third being Robb's upcoming reunion), in my opinion anyway.
A lot is going on in this chapter, but first and foremost ROBB IS OFFICIALLY BACK BITCHES. He's still struggling with his identity and memory, but he's back and he's coming to find Fianna. Their reunion is.... should I say it? Oh what the hell. It's like four chapters away. Which may seem like a long time, but I'm flying through writing lately because I'm HAPPY with what I'm writing, so it's not long. Don't worry. And after that I promise, no more fucking with everyone - Robb and Fianna will be backstreets back, alright!
And Fianna and Robb's reunion may be a few chapters away, but Fianna and Arya will be seeing each other quite soon.
I dropped a bit of a bomb there with Hot Pie's revelation at the end, so I'm just gonna ask everyone to trust me with this one.